Tread Fearless: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 4) (51 page)

Holt stared at John, again uncomfortable given the circumstances, and scowled. He tried to form an intelligent reply, but nothing came to mind, so he spit on the ground next to John. With the Glock under his leg, Holt wasn’t afraid of the dude with the strange eyes. Besides, he was in command of the situation here.

Being second in command of the “Crew,” was like being the commander. In fact, he’s the one who gave the Crew its name after the mess started. And so far, with his help, they made a pretty good life for themselves jacking passing travelers, especially the fat ones carrying sweet loads of supplies.

Some travelers they let go, but every once in a while they didn’t. It just depended on how they treated Smiley. If they were rude and demanding, and called Smiley names, then they ended up buried in the field: to add another “whoop” to the dirt-bike track, as Smiley liked to say. As for Holt, he was the enforcer, the trigger-puller, or hit-man as he fancied himself.

But lately, Holt thought Smiley’d been playing it too nice, letting too many people drive through without paying the tax, like that big, black SUV, and the fat, fully-loaded dually they passed earlier. He could have met that fool-girl lookout in Sunray any day. But no, he had to do it right then and there. Holt was convinced Smiley was an idiot, a talent waster, and he was already planning to take over.

He agreed it was smart to change their tactics because they couldn’t stop everyone, at least not with the Cactus Posse so near, hovering around like a pack of hungry wolves. Those crazy farmers drove up and shot two Crew members before Smiley even knew what hit him. And if it wasn’t for them knowing most everyone in the town, the Posse would have wiped them all out. That had been a close one for the Crew. For the time being the gang played along - followed the rules and all that – but that was about to change

The Posse was better armed and organized, but not any longer. With their recent prize of military-like weapons taken from the van, the crew could turn the tables on the Posse, and things would be different from then on out. The Crew could run the area any way they wanted, and then maybe Smiley would have another accident, like the one that earned him his nickname, but only this time it would be a permanent one.

John could see the wheels spinning in the young man’s head, so he decided to help him out. “Do you remember that black SUV and dually you passed about thirty minutes ago?”

Holt’s eyes got big and he said, “Yeah? What about it?”

“They’re with me,” said John.

To John’s humor, both men looked around as if expecting to see the vehicles sitting along the side of the road. “I don’t see ‘em,” replied Holt.

“What’s your name, son?”

“I ain’t your son, dude,” replied Holt, and he pulled out the Glock and pointed it at John’s chest.

John didn’t even flinch, and asked his next question as if the gun never even appeared, “My name’s John. Do you have a name?”

“How ‘bout I just waste you right here, old timer?” said Holt.

“Well, you could certainly shoot me if you choose,” said John.

“Say what? You hear this old fool, Jasper?”

“Dude, you just told him my name,” said the driver.

“So what!” Holt snapped, without taking his eyes off John. “I’m Holt. But why are you even talking to me? You crazy or something?”

“Your boss has my friends. I want them back,” replied John.

“Oh, so the dudes in the van . . . they’re with you,” chanted Holt.

“Yes,” said John.

“Well, man, you can talk all you want, but I don’t think Smiley’s gonna give ‘em up,” said Holt.

“I thought you were in charge,” replied John.

“I am,” said Holt.

“Dude! What are you talking about?” interjected Jasper. “If those cars are his, that’s a huge haul. We should report it now.”

Holt motioned to strike Jasper with the butt of the Glock, and Jasper shied away. “You ain’t in charge here.” snarled Holt. He then pointed the gun back at John and with a wave he said, “Step back!”

John complied. Holt stepped out and said, while holding the pistol stupidly close to him, “Spread ’em.” John did as he was told and leaned
against the car to submit to Holt’s hasty pat-down. When Holt finished, he opened the back passenger door and said, “Get in, old man.”

“We should call in first,” cautioned Jasper from behind the wheel.

“Dude! If you don’t shut up I’ll pop a cap in you,” snapped Holt, as he slammed the back door and climbed back into the front.

“It’s, ‘bust-a-cap,’” corrected Jasper.

Holt pointed the Glock at Jasper and said, “I’m seriously considering shooting you in the face right now!”

“Whatever,” said Jasper, and began to accelerate away.

“You don’t think I’ll do it? I will, man. I’ll do it right now! Just say one more word!” challenged Holt.

John watched the interaction with interest, quietly noting the different characters, and deciding how best to use their personalities against them if needed. Holt was definitely the dimmer of the two, and he wondered how anyone would come to rely on him to make any sound judgments. But then again, the leader, this Smiley character, probably wanted to keep an eye on Holt, and making him his second was probably a precautionary measure.

While the two young men continued their moronic debate, John took a moment to slip away and check in on Pete and the boys. He quickly jumped to them. They were still sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room, in the house on the corner lot. Another young man was guarding them with a shotgun.

Like the other homes in the neighborhood, this one was cheaply built. It offered three small bedrooms, a single bathroom, a kitchen, and an open living room. There was no furniture in the house to speak of, at least in terms of normal furniture. A card table and a single folding chair stood in one corner. On the table was a pile of papers, a battery powered calculator, and other, simple office supplies.

A few other folding chairs were set up around the room, but there was really nothing remarkable about the house. It seemed to serve more as a work space than a living space. Even the bedrooms lacked the most basic and common furniture and features found in normal homes.

Two bedrooms were set up with two army cots each. The remaining bedroom, though slightly larger, also had a cot, and three black, plastic footlockers. The house reminded John of a safe-house, or some kind of temporary military barracks.

But what caught his attention the most was the lingering presence of so many dark ones. John could always tell how dark an area was by how brightly he shined. And right now, he was shining very brightly. It wasn’t that he faded or glowed, he believed his radiance remained constant. At least he thought it remained constant, but he was still figuring things out.

To him, it was like the difference between using a flashlight in the daylight, and using it at night. And at the moment, he was surrounded by so much darkness that it made him look brighter than normal. At least it kept the dark ones at bay. He didn’t have the time to deal with them.

Pete and the boys were also shining, but their fear encouraged the dark ones to draw near them. They were trying to feed off their despair and worry, and anxious to dim their light further so they could torment them in earnest. John wasn’t about to let that happen.

He walked up to Pete and touched his head with his hand. Pete was immediately filled with John’s gift of light, and he began to shine brighter. John noticed that Pete actually straightened his back and smiled. John did the same for the boys, and his gift had a similar uplifting effect on them.

John then began to draw energy up from the earth. He quickly formed it into a ball with both hands and released it. The ball of energy moved above Pete and the boys, and from across the room, John spread his hands and the energy expanded in obedience to his desires. Soon, the energy ball entirely surrounded Pete and the boys in a protective bubble. John tapped the bubble with his finger, and it crystalized in place.

With that done, John turned his attention to finding Smiley. He found him out on the lot, working in an open shipping container. The short, wiry, dark-haired man, with a long scar extending from both sides of his mouth, was standing in the container with Adam’s rifle. Light
from a single, overhead lantern illuminated a workbench in front of Smiley as he began to disassemble the rifle.

John saw that Smiley was doing it with skill, and while he worked he explained the functions of the rifle to three men who were with him in the container. John knew without touching Smiley that he was a former military guy, which explained a lot, but he was also curious how the man managed to get the drop on Pete and the boys.

So he slipped backward in time and jumped to the van. John was there in the van when he heard Pete and Adam talking about the broken-down car they just passed. Then, a moment later, they saw a woman walking along the side of the road. They stopped to talk to her and saw that she had a baby girl in her arms.

They all wanted to help the woman, so Pete, against his better judgment, agreed to give her a ride, so she climbed in and sat in the back next to Corbin. She told them she lived in Sunray, a small community just up the road a little ways, and thanked them for their kindness. Pete, caught up in a feeling of charity, agreed to take the woman right to her home.

John saw how his earlier words about non-aggression had influenced Pete’s decisions and behavior, and realized that he was partially responsible for putting Pete and the boys in danger. Picking up a stranded motorist was one thing in the best of times, but doing it after the change was dangerous.

For some reason, Pete entirely abandoned his training and sense of precaution to please John. And when Pete pulled up to the woman’s house and parked next to a silver sedan, she removed a pistol from under the baby and held it against Corbin’s side.

Corbin went rigid with shock, and could only listen as the woman directed Pete and the boys to show their hands. John felt Pete’s anger and frustration at being tricked, and how his mind moved rapidly, considering all the possible options to free himself from the situation.

But he dare not risk the life of one of the boys. He loved them like his own, and said, “Take me instead. Just let the boys go. You can have everything, just let them be.”

Things moved as John predicted from that point forward. Holt and Jasper tied up Pete and the boys and loaded them into the van. When Holt prepared to leave for Smiley’s, the girl wanted to know about her cut of the tax. She pointed out that the van was loaded with food, equipment and weapons, and she wanted her cut now.

Despite the baby in arms, Holt slapped the girl hard. The young woman looked up with defiance and dared him to slap her again. Her gun was up and ready in her free hand. “You pointing your gun at me?” snarled Holt.

“Touch me again and I’ll kill you,” she replied in like manner, and cocked the hammer of the heavy revolver with one hand.

Holt looked at her, then at Jasper, and then back to her. “We’ll be back to settle your cut of the tax,” he said. “Let’s go, Jasper. Follow me in the car.”

John stayed with the van as it moved down the highway, past the warehouse where he stopped to hide the company, and then on to Smiley’s place. He was about to watch the meeting between Pete and Smiley when Jasper started shaking his shoulder. John heard, “Hey, man. Wake up.”

Holt snorted and said as he climbed out of the car, “Stupid old man. Who falls asleep on their way to the tax man?”

John opened his eyes and Jasper reached in to help him out. John thanked him and said, “Nice place you have here,” as he looked around with his physical eyes. It was always a weird transition, going from physical, to spiritual, to physical. It always took a moment to adjust.

Jasper chuckled in reply and said, “Well, it sure ain’t paradise, but we’re doing better every day.”

“By stealing from people?”

“It ain’t stealing,” replied Jasper, as if somehow offended by John’s judgment. “We’re just trying to survive.”

“What do you think we’re trying to do?” asked John.

“Shut up, Jasper! And search him again!” shouted Holt. “I’ll go get Smiley. So wait here with the old fart.”

“Nice guy,” said John. “Sure does yell a lot.”

“Yeah. He’s thinks pretty highly of himself,” said Jasper, as he motioned for John to assume the position against the sedan for another pat-down.

“What are you doing here? You seem like a smart kid,” said John.

“Me and Smiley go way back. And we rode together on the AMA circuit . . . motocross.”

“Oh. Dirt bike racing. Is that how Smiley got his nickname?” asked John.

“Sort’a. He got it from an accident when he was a kid. He tried driving his dirt-bike through a wire fence. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and a wire caught him in the mouth. Paramedics said if it caught him by the neck it would have killed him. He says surviving the accident gave him something to smile about. The name . . . it just kind of stuck.” When Jasper finished the pat-down he said, “Okay. You’re good.”

“He serve in the army?” asked John, as he turned to face Jasper again.

“Smiley?” he said in surprise. John nodded and Jasper asked, “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess. But it’s a common thing these days. Most army guys are survivors . . . like me,” added John.

“You were army, too?” asked Jasper.

“Retired,” said John.

“So you and Jasper have something in common. Maybe that will help.”

“You think?” asked John.

“Who knows?” said Jasper. “Either way, it’ll be interesting to watch.”