Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga (38 page)

Who the fuck is calling
me
?

He barely heard the response.
 
"Say again?
 
I can't hear you!"
 

I'm being extracted from a battle, you asshole.

"Cooper Braaten?
"

Cooper pulled the phone away and looked at in his hands.
 
It was still in secure mode.
 
"Yeah!
 
Who the hell is this?"

"Derek Alston.
 
I believe you knew my sister…"

C
HAPTER
30

Salmon Falls, Idaho.

D
ENNY
STOOD
BEFORE
THE
assembled hunters in Anse's cabin on the north slope of Morning Glory mountain, just west of town.
 
A motley collection of seventeen hard, mostly bearded faces stared back at him.
 
He wasn't surprised to see a few women in the crowd.
 

Anse had told him there were plenty of widows in town fired up enough to fight back against Townsen.
 
They'd managed to convince a married couple—the Winselms—to attend.
 
Denny hadn't personally met them before tonight, but Anse vouched for them and both sported AR-15s, so he wasn't asking question

Only a few people had balked at meeting this late at night.
 
Denny glanced out the corner of the nearest window into the inky blackness that surrounded the cabin.
 
He'd argued successfully that the cover of night would make it easier for them to slip out of town and also harder for Townsen's men to track them.
 
All but four of the people he'd invited
 
showed up in the end.

On the left side of the group stood the former Sheriff's Deputies, including Griswold.
 
All three wore their winter service jackets and campaign hats.
 
Everyone in attendance came armed.
 
Those with long guns had propped them along the far wall of the one-room cabin.

Denny himself carried more than his tomahawk under his belt this time.
 
The weight of the 9mm Glock he'd taken from the US Marshal
 
was no small comfort.
 
He knew how to use it but wasn't nearly as proficient as he probably should be.

That somber thought brought him back to the matter at hand.
 
"Let me begin by saying thank you all for coming here.
 
Thank you for your patriotism and for your desire to see justice served."

Several people nodded their heads and muttered agreement.
 

"Something sure as hell needs to be done about Townsen and his thugs!" a man called out in the back.
 
More murmurs rippled through the crowd—louder this time.

"I want to say right from the start," Denny said, "I'm not advocating we go in to town guns blazing and kill everyone supporting President Barron."

That drew grumbles of disagreement—especially from those who'd lost someone.
 
Denny was prepared for this and waited calmly.
 
He shot a look at Deputy Griswold, who looked around the room and glowered, but held his tongue.

"Then what the hell are we doing here?" asked a hunter in the back.
 
"I could be out looking for food for my family right now…"

"Food is
exactly
why we're here," said Denny.
 
"I'm not proposing we go on some vigilante killing spree in town.
 
I think Townsen has far too many men in his camp.
 
He's got the food, weapons, and support from President Barron's men—we have to be smart about this."

"Why don't we just attack and get it over with?" asked Anse.
 
Several of the men behind him clapped his back and added their agreement.
 
"As more people start to starve, they'll join him out of desperation."
 

"That's true—the longer we sit and do nothing, the stronger Townsen gets," Denny admitted.
 
He waited for the rumbling to die down again.
 
"Look, waiting isn't easy me either, okay?
 
I'm a history teacher.
 
I hunt, same as you, but that's as far as my desire–"

"Don't give us that bullshit!" said a man in the back.
 
"I know what you did when the Russians came to town—I was on one of the patrols that hunted 'em down in the woods.
 
You're just as capable of killing as the rest of us."

Denny looked at his feet.
 
He knew this topic would have to be addressed before he would get their attention.
 
He'd been trying to forget the past few weeks.
 
He'd barely been able to get through each day without remembering the faces of the men he'd killed.

"I think that was a different situation."

"How?" asked Anse.

Denny stared at him.
 
Anse at least had the decency to look ashamed, but glanced around for support from those nearest him.
 

"You're my friend Denny, but how is this any different than when the Russians came to town?"
 
He looked around, encouraged by the nods of support he received.
 

"Armed thugs show up and kill our people, our friends, our neighbors.
 
Again."
 
Anse glared at Denny.
 
"Townsen took over our town, just like the Russians!"
 

With every sentence, the grumbling around him grew louder.
 
"The Russians were worse than Townsen, that's true—but that doesn't mean Townsen hasn't killed whole families."

"He's right," called out a man up front.
 
"They either shot 'em or took their food for the 'greater good' and let 'em starve.
 
Saw it happen to my neighbors but I couldn't do a damn thing about it because Townsen had six men with rifles with him," called out a man up front.

"It's worse this time," said Mary Winselm, her higher voice in stark contrast to the harsh sound of the men around her.
 
She glanced at her husband.
 
"Townsen's one of us.
 
At least with the Russians, they weren't neighbors.
 
Something has to be done.
 
Now."

Denny reluctantly nodded in agreement.
 
Mary was right.
 
"You're right—but there's one major difference.
 
The Russians were foreign aggressors.
 
Invaders.
 
Townsen and every single person on his side, whether they're from the Federal government or from Salmon Falls, are Americans."
 
Denny let that sink in for a moment.
 
"You're asking us to raise our hand against our brothers and sisters—our friends and neighbors."

"They ain't no friends of mine, not any more!" a man up front yelled.
 
"Townsen and his thugs broke into my house and took all the food I've been saving.
 
Took me years to build up my cache.
 
All that hard work and money I put into my stockpiles to make sure I could provide for my family when the shit hit the fan—it's all gone!"
 
Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth.
 
"They gave me—from my own stash—what
they
said was enough.
 
Took everything else at
gunpoint
."
 
He shook his head, fire in his eyes.
 
"I had to explain to my little girl why the bad men came and trashed our house."
 

"They burned my house to the ground," said Denny.
 
The room grew silent.
 
"They burned my neighbor's house to the ground.
 
Everything I owned is gone, except for the hunting gear I had in my truck."
 
Denny looked around, daring anyone to speak.
 

"All the pictures of my family, my wife, my friends—everything is gone," Denny said, his voice tight.
 
He stood before them with his fists clenched and harnessed that rage.
 

"If anyone in this room understands what you're going through, it's me!
 
I have
nothing
.
 
They took everything for me—you don't think that I want payback for that?" Denny snarled.
 

"You don't think I'd like to walk into that town, wrap my hands around John Townsen's neck and squeeze until his eyes bulged and he gasps his last breath?
 
You don't think I want to look into his eyes and watch as his spirit leaves his body?
 
You don't think I want to make him pay for the crimes he's committed against his own neighbors?"

The cabin fell silent as a tomb.
 
The only sound Denny heard was the blood pounding in his ears.
 
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to regain control of his emotions.
 
"Look, there are two ways to go about this.
 
The first is one I think you all will agree with.
 
We charge down there and kill everyone who sides with John Townsen.
 
Barring that, we take out Townsen and his main supporters."

Most of the men loudly agreed.
 
"I don't see a problem with that," Anse said.

Denny stared at them.
 
"There are more than 50 men, just from our own town," Denny said, waving his arm toward Salmon Falls.
 
"That's not including the consultants President Barron sent with supplies and weapons.
 
How many of us are there?"
 
Denny looked around and did a quick head count.
 

"I see 18, including me.
 
How many of us you think would survive attacking them like that?"
 
He looked at Anse.
 
"They know you—they've already tried to kill you."
 
He looked at Deputy Griswold.
 
"And you too, Deputy."

"Yeah, but they didn't, thanks to you," said Anse.

"That's beside the point," snapped Denny.
 
"We have another option: we change the hearts and minds in town."

More than a few men rolled their eyes.
 

"Really?" asked Anse.
 
"Didn't we try that shit in Vietnam?"

"My old man told me that didn't work out so well for anyone…" muttered someone.

"Let 'im talk," shouted Mary Winselm.

Denny nodded.
 
"You all represent hundreds of years of hunting experience.
 
All of us can live off the land and support our families with the meat we can provide."
 
Heads nodded.
 
He had their attention.
 

"Hunting, trapping, ice fishing—we know how to survive.
 
From what I can tell of who's joined Townsen, they don't.
 
So we take what they have.
 
We raid their supplies, we hunt the land, and we take everything we can find.
 
We provide for the families in town.
 
Those that support Townsen but don't actively fight for him are the people we need on our side.
 
You think they really want to be in debt to that thug?" demanded Denny, pointing toward town.
 

"I don't think anyone down there wants to take food from John Townsen in return for support, do you?
 
What do you think would happen if we could provide food for everyone in town through hunting, trapping, raiding Townsen's supplies?
 
You think they'd still be loyal to him?"

"What reason would they have," asked Deputy Griswold, "other than fear?
 
We may provide them with all the food they need, but Townsen still outnumbers us and out-guns us.
 
Right now he's using peaceful means to get support, leveraging with food and privileges.
 
If we take that away, he'll use violence."

"More than he already does," added one of the men up front.

"That's probably true," Denny replied.
 
"But think about this: By the time he reaches the point where he needs to use violence to keep the town in line, most of the population will have swung to our camp.
 
By then we'll outnumber him.
 
And then—then we can take the fight to him."

Denny watched the emotions play across the faces arrayed before him.
 
Please let them agree…there's been enough bloodshed…

"I don't get this reluctance you have to fight," Anse said.
 
"I've known you for a long time and you've never been an aggressive person, so I'll grant you that," he continued.
 
"But after what I saw you did to the Russians, I…I can't figure out why you're not more willing to help us stand up to Townsen."