Last Stand: Patriots (Book 2) (8 page)

After arriving back at camp, the men assembled in the command tent. Rodriguez was by the
radio, waiting for them.

“The ETA on that large
convoy is five hours and counting,” Rodriguez told them as they entered. “My contact tells me ten trucks in all.”

“We saw a handful roll into
Oneida earlier today,” John said, “but they looked like rigs to me. Will this batch will be military vehicles?”

“Negative,” Rodriguez
replied, tapping the pencil against his knee. “According to our man in Jefferson City, they should be the same UN type that’s been rolling in these last few days.”

Marshall
drew in a deep breath, which pushed his belly out another few inches. “What do you make of that?” he asked Moss. In spite of Moss’ mohawk and quick wit, it seemed as though Marshall valued the younger man’s counsel.

“We’ve put enough money into the UN over the years,” Moss said. “It’s about time we got something out of it.”

Marshall was smiling as John turned to Rodriguez and asked: “Did your contact in Jefferson City say whether the convoy had an armed escort?”

Rodriguez shook his head. “
He didn’t mention any escort. I’d get on and ask him again, but we only communicate once a day. Even with all our precautions, we can’t risk the wrong people zeroing in on our signal.”

“Best to assume an armed escort is shadowing them then
,” John offered. A map of the area was on the table and he tapped a finger on a spot north of Oneida. “If you want my two cents, I suggest we create a roadblock here, just inside Daniel Boone National Forest along route 27. Lay down some spike strips in case they try and break through.”

“Attack the convoy before they reach the town
,” Marshall said, scratching his bearded chin. “Good idea. How many men do you think it’ll take?”

John looked up with cold determination.
“At least twenty, maybe thirty to be safe. We’ll need to strike with overwhelming force, while also keeping enough people to drive all the vehicles back to base. Just keep in mind, there may be casualties if they put up a fight.”

“I think twenty’ll be more than enough,” Moss countered.
“And besides, what’s all this ‘we’ talk? You’re the new kid on the block and now you’re telling us when and how to attack. Last I remember, Sullivan and I were saving your hide from becoming target practice for the Chairman’s men.”

“I’m not here to tell you
folks how to run your business,” John said. “But every indication we have is that our loved ones are being held in Oneida. And only God knows what horrors they’re enduring. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I intend to do whatever it takes to get them back.”

“We’re all on the same side here, John,”
Marshall said, weighing in, “even if it sounds like some of us aren’t. Every soldier we lose on a mission is someone’s father, someone’s husband. We all want what you want. We don’t mind you coming along and helping out, but what Moss here’s trying to make sure of is that you remember who’s in charge.”

There was a tense moment of silence as John let
Marshall’s words settle in. You didn’t make it in the military if someone in your face got you all riled up. He also understood their point. John was in a focused state and sometimes men took that to mean he thought of himself as their boss. But nothing could be further from the truth. Nothing would make John happier than if none of this had happened: the EMP, the battle with Cain and now the loss of the ones he loved most. The thought of breaking off and going it alone wouldn’t get him very far. His ill-fated attempt to infiltrate the town had brought that home loud and clear.

Through the small group of men assembled around him, John saw Brandon and Gary standing anxiously by the
truck. Gary was biting his nails and Brandon had his arms crossed, his hands buried up into his armpits. Splintering from the Patriots now would only set them further back from their goal.

John put an arm
around Marshall’s shoulder. “I don’t want your job, I just want my family back.”

“Good,”
Marshall said, folding the map and tucking it away. He turned to Moss. “Take Sullivan and gather thirty men. We’ll take eight vehicles along with the technical.” He was referring to the pickup with the twin ARs mounted on a pedestal. “In less than an hour I want the ambush in the forest north of Oneida set and ready to spring.”

For all their talk, it appeared
Marshall had taken John’s advice. John only hoped the plan would work.

Just then a
n image of Diane’s battered face floated up before his eyes. His imagination was getting the better of him, a torturous impulse he’d tried hard to suppress since the kidnapping. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help wonder if she and the kids were all right.

Involuntarily, John’s hand slipped into his pocket, his fingers curling around the si
lver necklace.

Stay strong, honey. It won’t be long.

Diane sat on the cot inside what appeared to be
Oneida’s county jailhouse, wondering how long it would be before John would discover where they were and try to free them. She’d heard shots the other day and looked through the barred windows to see men on horseback galloping in the fields east of town. Not long after, she’d spotted a pair of trucks in the distance and assumed they were part of a group that’d taken a wrong turn. For a moment her heart had leapt with the notion that it was John coming to break them out, only to have that hope dashed when the trucks turned and drove away at high speed.

Sharing a cell with Diane was
Kay Appleby, who seemed to be trying her best to put on a tough exterior, although she’d been crying secret tears ever since being thrown in here.

In the adjacent cell were the kids. Gregory, Emma and Natalie. Apart from a few scrap
es and bruises, they hadn’t been too physically hurt when those men had arrived and demanded they hand over their weapons. But not every wound showed on the outside and Diane was sure seeing Tim shot and killed before their eyes was playing over and over in their heads. At least it was for her and surely for Kay.

At first,
Diane had been upset that John was away when the attack had come, although after seeing what had happened to Tim as he tried to warn them, a bigger part of her was relieved. John wasn’t one to hand his weapons over to anyone and his fate would surely have been the same as Tim’s. She’d learned long ago from John that life was far different than how it was portrayed in the movies. Squaring off against a half-dozen armed men was child’s play on the big screen, but in the real world, it usually meant death.

Diane wrapped an arm around Kay’s shoulder and told her everything would be fine. They were alive and right now that was all that
mattered. Kay nodded, absently, as though her mind were a million miles away.

“Natalie needs you right now,” Diane whispered, aware that Kay’s daughter was watching her mother slowly come unglued.

As strange as it sounded, being put in cells right next to one another was a blessing. It had given Diane a chance not only to keep an eye on Gregory and Emma, but also to reach through the bars and hug them.

Slowly, her awareness returned to her immediate environment.
Coughs and other noises filled the jail. There were other cells in here as well, many packed with men, women and children labeled criminals for failing to obey the edict. A guard was posted outside and if he heard anyone talking, he would often barge in and whack a police baton against the bars, threatening to make you disappear if you didn’t shut up.

S
till, it wasn’t completely clear why they’d been attacked and taken here in the first place. The men who had showed up wearing a mishmash of dark clothing and carrying rifles had mentioned something about a decree from the president. That the country was under martial law and the Constitution had been temporarily suspended. The next thing they’d demanded were the weapons, but by that time, Tim was already dead, likely for blowing the whistle and signaling the alarm.

The truth was, signal or not, those men in black
had been on them so quickly, shouting and forcing them to the ground, that there hadn’t been much of a chance to resist at all. They were like those SWAT teams you’d see on TV—back when there was such a thing—swarming in and barking orders for everyone to get down and lace their fingers behind their head.

The toughest part hadn’t been
seeing them ransack the cabins and then burn them to the ground. That had hurt, but the toughest part was knowing this little slice of heaven they’d designed and built was gone forever.

Diane got up and went to the window. Peering through the bars, she watched as the local townspeople went about their business. She’d come to discover the name of the man who ran
Oneida, at least the title he went by. They called him the Chairman and all she’d been able to gather so far was that he ran the town in some official capacity for the federal government. She supposed the existing mayor hadn’t been willing to implement the harsh measures the Chairman was proposing, because he had also been thrown in jail. Nor was it very reassuring that he’d recently been executed after trying to escape.

Maybe some states
were okay with folks messing around with their Constitutional rights, but not the people of Tennessee, nor a few other states she knew. Was hard to understand then why so many of the folks outside seemed to be cooperating. The alternative, she imagined, was sitting in a jail cell or maybe worse. For someone who was the sole caregiver to children or elderly parents, perhaps the risks seemed too great to stand up for what was right.

Diane turned to see a face peering in through the concave glass portal that separated the cells from
the guard room. Then a terrifying reverberation sounded as the metal door was unlocked and the guard came in.

“She the one?” he asked, pointing his
police baton in Diane’s direction. He seemed to be speaking with someone behind him who was standing in shadow.

A hushed voice confirmed her worst fears.

“Step back,” the guard told Kay, who rose from the cot and stood by the window near Diane.

“Today’s your lucky day,” the guard said and it took Diane a moment to realize he wasn’t about to beat her. “The Chairman would like to have a word with you.”

•••

The guard led her through a series of locked doors to a hallway. Without electricity it was dark, although the building seemed to have been designed to take advantage of the natural light. Up ahead was an office, perhaps one that had once served a member of the jail staff.

Inside, a man sat behind a desk. Diane wondered if he’d been the one in shadow pointing her out to the guard. On the desk was a single candle that threw
grotesque shadows against the walls. The way the man sat in the chair, hardly touching anything around him, the office didn’t appear to be his. Rather it was a secluded place where he could ask her a few questions, figure out if she knew anything useful. At least she hoped that was all he wanted.

“We’ll be fine,” the man told the guard. “Just wait outside till I
call you, Jeffrey.”

Jeffrey closed the door as he
left. The click as it snapped shut left Diane feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here,” he said.

“Are you the Chairman?” she asked.

“The Chairman sounds so pretentious, I know. But it helps to remind people who’s really in charge. Charles A. Morgan’s my real name. You can call me Charles.”
He grinned, a look that was supposed to put her at ease, but that long, thin face of his was doing anything but.

“What’s the A stand for?”
she wondered, trying to distract herself from the sight.

“Augustus.”

Diane almost rolled her eyes, but fought the urge. This guy really was full of himself. He then asked for her name and she told him.

“It suits you,” he said.

She wasn’t sure if he was trying to be flattering, but this whole thing was giving her the creeps. “I’m not sure what this meeting is supposed to be about,” she started. “But none of those people deserve to be locked up. Your men are committing crimes by going around confiscating guns and burning down folks’ homes.”

“I’m acting on behalf of the president,”
the Chairman cut in. “And I’m not the only one. Delegates chosen by him personally have been sent from the capital to every city with a population greater than five thousand. Our objective was to help the local leadership accept and implement the president’s directives. Unfortunately, not everyone saw fit to comply, including Oneida’s former mayor.”

“So you had him locked up
and then killed.”

“
We were forced to make an example of him,” the Chairman said. “But this wasn’t why I wanted to see you.”

Diane had seen other women pulled from the jail cells since she’d arrived and all of them had returned with torn clothes and tears. They wouldn’t say much after that, but it was clear they’d either been roughly questioned or abused in other ways.

“Do you have someone?” he asked.

“Have someone?”

“Are you married?”

“
Yes,” she replied, holding her wedding band in the air. John had the duplicate and they’d vowed to never remove them.

T
here was something really strange about this guy and it wasn’t just the way he looked. It was the way he spoke. Almost like he didn’t belong.

“Of course you’re married
,” the Chairman told her as he rose out of his seat and circled around the desk toward her. He was tall, but John had taught her the bigger they were, the harder they fell.

“I hope for your sake you don’t have any funny ideas
about you and me.”

He grinned again and the tar between his teeth
from years of smoking made her stomach lurch. “A beautiful woman like you should be careful,” he said, casually. “This is a violent world we live in, especially for those with no one to protect them.”

“I can handle myself just fine.”

“I’m sure you can.”

H
e was reaching for her when she grabbed his hand in a pronating wrist lock John had taught her, bending it back until the bone clicked. A squeal of pain escaped his lips as the Chairman’s eyes grew wide with shock and his head connected with the table. He made a bizarre noise that sounded like
biliat
, a word that didn’t make a lick of sense.

She
kicked the seat away and angled her grip, bringing the Chairman to his knees. Looking around, she didn’t see anything nearby she could use as a weapon.

The Chairman howled in pain again and a second later the door flew open. Jeffrey, the guard, saw what was going on a
nd before she could maneuver swung his baton against the back of her skull. Diane saw stars as she crumpled to the floor.

He hadn’t knocked her out, just stunned her enough to let go. Jeffrey
’s hands came down and pulled her up and into the seat. He was getting ready to hit her again when the Chairman stopped him.

“You have guts, Diane. I like that in a woman.
I like it a lot. But if you try another stunt like that I’ll take you out back and shoot you myself.” He rubbed his wrist, rotating it in slow circles. “Put her back,” he told Jeffrey, “and bring me the woman sharing her cell.”