Betrayal: Society Lost, Volume Two (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Working their way through town, moving skillfully from street to street, Jessie and T. R. covered each other as they moved in bounds. Along the way, they encountered Peronne’s men at several locations as they searched homes all throughout the town. Arriving just across Avenue C from the courthouse, T. R. and Jessie took shelter in an abandoned block and stucco automotive garage that was in the parking lot of a former Valero gas station. Looking through the small windows in the roll-up door, they could see the courthouse as well as one of the desert-tan SUV’s. Noting the lack of movement outside the courthouse, Jessie said, “And now we wait.”

“I wonder what Jack has in mind,” T. R. thought aloud.

“Yeah, same here. I’m not sure if he didn’t want to tell us for OPSEC reasons, or if he just had yet to figure it out himself. One thing is for sure, though.”

“What’s that?” T. R. asked.

“We’ve got a good idea of who is in Peronne’s back pocket, now.”

“How?”

“Didn’t you notice? Along the way, every time we encountered Peronne’s men kicking doors while looking for whoever it is they’re looking for, they didn’t hit every house. They skipped some for no apparent reason. Odds are, those houses are the eyes and ears.”

“Yeah, Good point,” T. R. replied, agreeing with Jessie’s deductions.

Sitting down on the floor and leaning against the wall in the darkest corner of the room, Jessie said, “You’ve got first watch.”

“Come again?” T. R. queried.

Lifting his hat to look T. R. in the eye, Jessie said, “Look, we don’t know how long it’s gonna take for anything to begin, much less to play out. We’ve got to assume we’re gonna be here for a while, and then whenever it does all hit the fan, that it will take some time to play out. When the situation before you is full of variables and unknowns, you’ve got to proactively manage the knowns. With that in mind, I’m gonna manage a nap. Wake me in two hours unless you feel the need to prior to that, then I’ll take a shift by the window.”

Shaking his head with a grin, T. R. said, “Roger that, Sheriff.”

Looking back up at T. R., Jessie said, “I wish you could still call me that. Just call me Jessie. There’s no sense in dwelling on the past. Hell, there’s barely a future to dwell on.”

With a nod, T. R. turned and looked back out the window, watching the only movement he could see, that of a gentle breeze blowing an old plastic shopping back down the street.
I wonder how long that thing has been aimlessly wandering the world.

~~~~

Riding Brave back to the homestead at a leisurely trot, Jessie could see the smoke emanating from the chimney of the cabin over the next hill. Seeing the smoke from the chimney always made Jessie smile as he returned home. He knew the smoke meant that the cabin was nice and cozy inside, and Stephanie no doubt had something delicious cooking on top of the wood stove.

As Jessie rounded the last bend, he looked around in amazement at the beauty of their mountain retreat, and counted their many blessings. Looking back at his bounty stretched across the back of his saddle, Jessie counted them and said to himself aloud, “Four rabbits and three squirrels. That’ll make a nice change of pace from lamb and mutton.”

Refocusing on the cabin up ahead, now clearly visible, Jessie noticed that both the front screen door and wooden doors had been left standing wide open. Feeling concerned, knowing that Stephanie’s pet peeve was to keep the bugs out and the heat in, he nudged Brave forward, increasing his pace.

Arriving at the front of the cabin, Jessie quickly climbed down from Brave, tied his reins to the porch railing, and went inside. Looking around the room, seeing a fresh batch of homemade biscuits on the table and the teapot boiling over on the stove, Jessie said, “Steph? Sasha? Jeremy? Where are you?”

Walking over the to the bedroom door, Jessie turned the knob and swung it open. To his horror, he saw his beloved family, his beautiful wife, Stephanie, and his loving children, Sasha and Jeremy, all lying on the bed, piled one on top of another, with their throats slashed from ear to ear. The white bedsheets that Jessie and Stephanie had slept on for years, were now soaked with their blood, as it dripped down onto the floor below.

Before he could react, a hand reached from behind the door, grasping him by the throat with a raspy voice saying, “Well, well... Daddy is finally home. Looks like you’re a little too late, Daddy,” the voice said with a dark chuckle as the greasy, unkempt, and rotten-toothed man emerged into Jessie’s view. The smell of body odor and foul, rotten breath overwhelmed him.

Reaching for his Colt in a fit of absolute rage, Jessie yelled, “You, son-of-a-b—!” as he cocked the hammer with his thumb while shoving the barrel into the man’s forehead.

“Jessie! No! It’s me!” T. R. said sheepishly as he watched the cylinder of the old Colt rotate as Jessie’s thumb pulled the hammer back into the cocked position. Looking into Jessie’s eyes and seeing the rage of a madman, he once again said, “It’s me... it’s me, man. It’s your turn. That’s all.”

His eyes regaining their focus, Jessie felt his finger begin to apply pressure on the trigger as he saw T. R.’s face come into view. Quickly pulling the gun off T. R.’s forehead. Jessie could see him shivering with fear. Looking around the room, regaining his composure and collecting his thoughts, Jessie said, “Sorry,” as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Hey, man, are you okay?” T. R. asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm all right,” Jessie said as he attempted to shrug off his emotions. The dream feeling so real to him, both the love of his family and the memories of his tragic loss sending his mind into a dark and violent spiral. “What, what is it?”

“You said to wake you in two hours,” T. R. replied. “It’s that time. I just came over to wake you. Sorry if I startled you.”

“Have you ever felt like you had finally moved on from something, releasing the pain, only to have it haunt you and pierce your heart yet again? I guess clinging to the pain can be a good thing,” Jessie added as he avoided eye contact with T. R. “Pain reminds you of reality. In this world, it’s good to keep the reality of things right in front of you. There’s no room for weakness here. None at all. Weakness is how people like Peronne gain power over the rest of us. How many tragedies has Peronne caused? How many families have lost loved ones? How many children were taken? No, there’s no room for weakness, here.”

Standing up and dusting himself off, Jessie said, “Enough of that. Get some sleep while you still can,” as he walked over to the small, oval window on the garage door, taking his post for the next two hours.

As T. R. lay in the darkest corner of the room attempting to fall asleep, Jessie gazed out the small, dirty window, seeing only the movement of the tree branches as they blew with the gentle breeze. The courthouse itself sat back from the road approximately fifty yards on the other side of Avenue C, with its decorative trees and shrubbery being overgrown to the point that details of the building itself were hard to see.

After about a half-hour, Jessie heard T. R. snort and begin to snore.
Finally, he’s asleep,
he thought as he looked over to see T. R.’s hat over his face, with his arm behind his head for a pillow. Hearing the sound of a vehicle approaching from the west to the east down Avenue C, Jessie’s attention was once again directed out the garage door window as he watched one of the desert tan painted SUV’s arrive in front of the courthouse, now making two vehicles total.

Observing for several minutes, he saw two officers exit the courthouse, climb into the first SUV, and drive away, heading back to the west from where the second vehicle came. Looking at his watch, Jessie wondered to himself,
shift change?

After approximately ten more minutes of watching and waiting, Jessie heard a rumble from the east. Picking up an old, empty oil bottle, he tossed it at T. R., striking him on the leg, startling him awake. T. R. quickly sat up, reached for his rifle, and said, “Wha... what? What is it?”

“Something’s up,” Jessie said, staring out the window. “Something big is headed this way.”

Scurrying to his feet, T. R. joined Jessie by the window and began nervously looking about. Unable to see adequately to the east from the small window, Jessie whispered, “Sounds like a big diesel engine to me.” Pausing to listen more carefully, he added, “Tracks.”

“What?” T. R. asked, seeking clarification of Jessie’s statement.

“It’s a tracked vehicle. Peronne doesn’t have tanks, too, does he?” Jessie asked sarcastically.

“No, just regular street vehicles,” replied T. R.

As the squeaks, clacks, and moans of metallic tracks and a diesel engine drew near, an old, rust-covered Caterpillar D5 dozer came into view. “Holy hell,” Jessie said. “Is that Jack?”

“Sure looks like it,” T. R. replied.

“Better get ready. It looks like the show is about to start.”

As the dozer passed in front of the garage, Jack pulled back hard on the right steering lever, locking up the right track and sharply pivoting the dozer to turn to the right. He then opened up the throttle, lowered the blade slightly, and angled the six-way blade all the way to the left, exposing the right corner of the large, U-shaped blade.

Adjusting his path and blade height, Jack aimed the corner of the angled blade at one of the lower, steel-covered basement windows. Just as bullets began bouncing off of the dozer from a window on the main floor of the building, he jumped free of the machine and dove behind one of the trees on the courthouse lawn for cover.

Just as Jessie started to say something, he noticed the impact of bullets striking the courthouse as if to provide cover for Jack, as he would otherwise be pinned down and alone on the courthouse lawn.

“He’s not alone,” Jessie said, “Let’s go.”

With a nod in the affirmative, Jessie and T. R. watched as the corner of the dozer blade struck the steel-reinforced basement window, shattering the block foundation, knocking the large, steel plates into the basement. The dozer, now unmanned with its diesel engine still running, began to churn its tracks into the dirt, now firmly up against the immoveable, thick masonry foundation of the nearly one-hundred-year-old structure.

Rushing across the street, Jessie made his way to the police SUV parked alongside Avenue C. Once in position, he motioned for T. R. to rally on him as someone continued to pound the courthouse with a high powered rifle from afar, keeping the shooter on the main floor of the building at bay. Joining Jessie behind the SUV, T. R. said, “What’s the plan?”

“We’ve gotta move quick,” Jessie shouted over the gunfire and the sound of the still roaring diesel engine. “Backup should be here anytime. We need to make entry before they get here and shoot us in the back while doing so. We’ll never make it inside taking fire from both directions.”

“I can start this thing,” T. R. said, referring to the desert tan Chevy Suburban SUV. “There is always an extra key in the ashtray for emergencies.”

“Check it out,” Jessie said as he looked to Jack’s position.

Climbing inside the Suburban from the passenger’s side door, T. R. fumbled around, finding the key while keeping his head down low. He shoved the key into the ignition from across the vehicle, turned it, and the engine came to life. Slipping back out of the Suburban, he motioned for Jessie to join him as they both climbed inside.

Signaling to Jack, it appeared as if Jack relayed what was going on to someone via a small, hand-held radio.

“Put this thing between Jack and the building,” Jessie shouted. “Then get the hell out and up against the wall so that the main floor shooter can’t get a line on you without exposing himself to our guardian angel. That’ll give Jack cover so that he can make a move as well.”

“Roger that!” T. R. said as he put the Suburban into gear, released the parking brake, and began speeding toward the building, bouncing over the curb and tearing across the grass toward Jack.

Arriving at Jack’s position, Jessie slipped out the passenger’s side door and moved alongside the rear of the SUV, joining up with Jack. As T. R. made a run for the masonry foundation of the building, Jessie said, “It’s about time you got here,” shouting over the sound of the dozer.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Jack replied. “If you guys hadn’t made it here, I’d be screwed when their backup arrives. Speaking of which, there they come,” he said, pointing toward the west as another SUV sped toward them from a distance.

“Cover. Moving,” Jack said into the radio as the cadence of long-range fire on the building intensified, allowing both him and Jessie the opportunity to make their move, joining T. R. alongside the foundation of the building.

Patting T. R. on the shoulder, Jessie pointed toward the approaching SUV and shouted, “No time. Gotta move. Cover our entrance, then follow.”

With a nod in the affirmative, T. R. worked his way to the dozer’s blade as the tracks churned ominously into the dirt, the blade still wedged firmly into the large window opening with the steel shutters dangling from their damaged hinges. T. R. couldn’t help but think of how bad the timing would be if the dozer suddenly found traction as they worked their way through the opening.
Thank God this concrete foundation is several feet thick
, he thought.