Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga (39 page)

Denny remained silent for a moment and stared at his fellow teacher.
 
"I'm not a violent person, Anse" said Denny.
 
"But I won't shy away from it."

"Like when the Russians invaded."

Denny stared at Anse.
 
Why are you doing this?
 
Why are you so eager to fight, to kill, to spill blood?
 
Denny shook his head.
 

"That place I was in when…when the Russians…I don't like who I became.
 
I don't like what I did, I'm not proud of it."
 
He took a deep breath and sighed.
 
He didn't want to come to grips with his past this way.
 

"Was it necessary?
 
Yes, I think so—but I don't think it's necessary in this situation," Denny said.
 
"I am
not
advocating we start a war in our town.
 
I'm a teacher, not a soldier."

"I'm a teacher too," said Anse.
 
"What's that got to do with anything?"
 

"I've spent my career teaching American history," said Denny, ignoring the jibe.
 
"Trust me when I say I am not a fan of the early American government.
 
My people were slaughtered at the hands of the pioneers."
 
He clenched his fists.
 

"Growing up on the reservation, I was obsessed with fighting and taking back our land.
 
My land.
 
My people's land.
 
This
land," he said, sweeping his arms wide to encompass Salmon Falls.
 
"But I know all about the Civil War and all about the partisan conflict in the Revolution."
 
He glared at Anse.
 
"You have no idea what you will unleash upon your families—your children—if you start a war with Townsen.
 
The violence will not stop at killing the bad man with the gun.
 
Because that man's friends, Townsen's allies, will find out who did it and go to their house, and kill their family.
 
Then it spirals out of control."

Denny shook his head.
 
"I will not unleash that horror upon our town.
 
When I die and it's my turn to be judged, I will stand proudly and admit what I did against the Russians.
 
I did that out of necessity—if I'm to be punished for that, so be it.
 
But I will not be a part of bringing that kind of destruction to innocent children and families.
 
I can't."
 
He looked down.
 
"I
won't
."

"And what if Townsen brings it to us first?" asked Anse quietly.

Denny shook his head.
 
"Well, if that–"

"Because it's already happening, brother."
 
Anse stared around the other faces of the room.
 
"Allen," Anse said, pointing at someone on the far side of the room.
 
"You know what I'm talking about." He turned back to Denny.
 
"When Townsen first took control, Allen was one of the few that stood up and said 'no'.
 
They burned his house down.
 
He lost his son in that fire."

Denny looked at the man Anse had singled out.
 
He glowered at Denny, as if challenging him to dispute Anse's words.

"Whether you like it or not, Denny—whether you want to admit it or not—this is already a civil war.
 
But we didn't start it.
 
Barron started it in Washington and people like Townsen ain't gonna stop 'til this whole damn country is split apart or one side is dead."

Denny sighed.
 
"If I agree to your idea, will you agree to mine?"

Anse looked confused.
 
"What do you mean?"

Denny crossed his arms.
 
"Whether this conflict will spill out into the streets—into open warfare—might be out of my control, I'll grant you that.
 
But would it be so bad to try my methods first?
 
Would it be so bad to take a chance on depriving Townsen of his supplies?"

"Come on, Denny, it's well past that now.
 
You know that—it was past that point when Townsen burned your house down and killed your neighbors.
 
There's no turning back now."

Denny nodded.
 
"Maybe.
 
But are you willing to throw out the possibility that he might end this peacefully?
 
Would you be able to live with yourself in the wake of the aftermath if two thirds of the families in this town died—if all those kids we taught in school are murdered?
 
I couldn't live that—how can you?"

"Because some men need killing."

Denny stared at Anse like a stranger.
 
"What's happened to you, Anse?"

Anse looked down at his hands.
 
"When the Russians came…" he began, eyes still locked on the floor.
 
"I watched them drag my neighbor and his family out of their house.
 
I saw the soldiers running in the street with their weapons and thought it was some National Guard drill or something…"
 
He frowned.
   

"I didn't think…I never thought it was an actual
invasion
…not until I saw Fred and his family lined up in the street and shot like dogs."
 
Anse looked up at Denny then, his eyes red.
 
"When I saw the bodies of his kids twitching in the street," he said, his voice choked and strained, "something snapped inside me.
 
The Russians killed Fred.
 
When Townsen came to power," he continued, sniffing and wiping his face with rough hands.
 
"I saw his men pull my other neighbor across the street out of his house.
 
They didn't shoot anybody, but they held him and his wife at gunpoint while their friends took everything.
 
My neighbor spoke up and got a rifle stock to the face for his trouble.
 
They punched his wife in the stomach and left her gasping for air on the street.
 
That's
what happened, Denny.
 
Townsen is one small step away from doing exactly what the Russians did.
 
He may be the local troublemaker, but he's not stupid.
 
He learned from them—he watched 'em."

"But it's time we learned, too," argued Denny.
 
"We can learn from history.
 
Anybody ever heard of Robin Hood?"

One man laughed derisively.
 
"Really?"

Deputy Griswold stepped forward and all eyes in the room turned to him.
 
"The whole 'rob from the rich and give to the poor' thing makes sense."
 
Deputy Griswold turned and received a few nods from the crowd.
 
"It's a good idea Denny, but I'm not sure how well it'll work.
 
Townsen's pretty well entrenched.
 
And we don't have a King Richard coming back from the Crusades to help us out on this one.
 
We don't know who the hell is in Barron got shot.
 
Nobody knows what the hell's going on in DC.
 
The whole
country
might be in the middle of a civil war for all we know."
 

"Much as I don't want more violence, I think Anse has it right—we need to strike now before Townsen gets too strong.
 
I've had a few run-ins with his men and…" Griswold's eyes focused on the floor.
 
He swallowed audibly, clenched his fists, and carried on.
 
"I lost my family…"
 
He looked up and stared at Denny.
 
"By God, if I'm able to do something about it, I will not let Townsen and his brownshirts make anyone else suffer."

"Damn straight!" yelled someone.

"Somebody needs to make a stand!"
 
The assembled men and women shouted over each other.

Denny raised his hands to regain order, but he could see he had already lost.
 
Those who saw themselves as the protectors of Salmon Falls wanted blood.
 
They needed satisfaction, vengeance.
 
The town had been through too much in the last month and a half.
 
They were at the breaking point.

An immense sadness settled over Denny's heart like a heavy cloak, wet with rain.
 
He knew he'd lost.
 
Perhaps it was best to throw in with them now and help bring an end to the conflict as quickly as possible rather than drag it out.

Denny was about to say so out loud when suddenly he was back in his classroom, on a sunny September day.
 
The room was filled with bright minds, more than a few pranksters, but every one of them good kids in their hearts.
 
How many of them had gotten sick from the flu—how many had died in the last month?
 
How many had starved to death or been murdered by Russians?
 
How many had survived Townsen's reign of terror thus far?
 
In his mind's eye, Denny watched his class dwindle down to a handful.
 

Something needs to be done.

As the men argued and shouted, Denny turned to Deputy Griswold.
 
The senior deputy was accompanied by only one of his fellow officers now.
 
Denny glanced around the room, looking for the missing campaign hat.
 
The third deputy was gone.
 

Denny's heart raced.
 
"Where did the other deputy go?"
 

That single sentence cut through the shouts and conversations like a knife.
 
The cabin fell silent again.
 
All eyes in the room turned toward Deputy Griswold.
 
The law man flushed and looked at his partner.
 
"Where the hell did Evans go?"

The other officer looked behind him and turned back to Griswold.
 
"I don't know, he was right here a second ago…"

"He said something about needing to go take a leak…" muttered one of the men near the door.

Denny shot a worried look at Anse.
 
"He was one of the last ones to get here.
 
We've only been inside for 20 minutes.
 
Why would he need to go the bathroom now?"

"You in the house!"
 

The words shot through the wooden walls of the cabin like a missile.
 
A few men pulled their pistols free of their belts.
 
The ones in back turned and rushed to grab rifles.
 
Denny raised his hand for quiet.
 

"Listen!" he hissed.

"I say again: you all in the cabin!
 
Come out with your hands up and leave your weapons inside!"

The voice of authority was unmistakable, but it wasn't one that Denny recognized.
 
He looked at Griswold, who shrugged.
 
"That ain't Evans…"

"You have two minutes to comply!
 
We have you surrounded!
 
Any attempt to resist will be met with lethal force!
 
Don't make me hurt anybody!
 
I want this to end peaceably.
 
So I say again, put down your weapons and come out with your hands up.
 
You will be taken into Federal custody–"

"Oh, shit!" said Anse.
 
He glared at Denny.
 
"I
knew
this was a bad idea!
 
That's the son of a bitch President Barron sent up here."

"He's the one that killed McDonnell!" barked a voice near the door.

"I'm not going down without a fight!" somebody shouted.

"If George McDonnell can stand up to Townsen, so can we!"
 
Shouts of agreement echoed around the room.

C
HAPTER
31

Skye, Scotland.

Dunkeith Castle.

R
EGINALD
PUT
ON
HIS
most sincere smile for the camera.
 
"I'm glad to hear you are well, my lady."

"Yes, thanks to your advice, my security forces got me clear of the riots.
 
I owe you a great debt, Earl Dunkeith."

Reginald nodded.
 
"Think nothing of it."

"Thank you," the sweet voice said in a soft, low tone.
 
"Is it bad…where you are?
 
In Austria things have gotten worse—far quicker than I'd expected."

This was exactly the opening he'd been hoping for.
 
"My lady, if I may be so bold…" The way she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows encouraged him to continue.
 
"This may seem forward, but have you considered moving from your current location?"