Forsaking Home (The Survivalist Series) (15 page)

I pointed at the woman. “What happened to her?”

Ian grinned and pointed at Jamie. “
That
happened to her.”

“Yeah, she took a swing at Jamie, so Jamie delivered a beautiful head butt back to her,” Mike added.

Jamie looked down at the woman as she glared up at her. “Bitch hit me. Bit off more than you could chew, didn’t ya?”

This started another muffled tirade through the tape.

Another motorized sound drifted up through the night. Mike smiled. “Looks like the party is about to start.”

“Is that Sarge?” Danny asked.

“Yeah, he’s on the way in.”

Mel and the girls came out, standing by the door of the cabin with Bobbie. Mel called me over.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re done with their little sneak and peek, and picked up some prisoners.”

She looked at them, eyebrows raised. “A woman?”

“Yeah, she’s got a lot to say too.”

“What are they going to do with them?” Taylor asked.

“Sarge is on his way to get them.”

Moments later, the boat came around the bend in the river and glided up to the bank. Sarge hopped off before it even stopped and came stomping up the hill. Mike and Ted were standing there smiling like the cats that ate the canary. Sarge stopped in front of the three prisoners, his hands on his hips.

“I said bring me
one
,” he barked, shaking his head.

“Ah hell, we figured three would give you three times as much fun,” Ted said.

Sarge shook his head. “Fuckin’ overachievers.”

Mike was leaning against the buggy. “You ungrateful ole prick!” he said with a smile.

Sarge smiled. “Let’s get ’em loaded up. One of you will come back with me, then we’ll send the boat back for the rest of you.”

They led their captives down to the boat, the woman still being difficult. As Sarge was getting her into the boat he looked at her. “Don’t worry, missy, you’ll have plenty of time to talk.” She stopped her mumbling for a moment, then, with her brows furrowed, she started with renewed vigor. Sarge laughed and pushed her into the boat. The other two were loaded up and Mike jumped in with them.

Mike waved at Ted with a big grin. “See you guys later.”

As the boat pulled away, we drifted back to the fire pit. Danny tossed a couple more logs on the fire. Thad brought out the pot with our dinner leftovers and set it on the fire. Mel and the girls came out and sat by the fire too. All the activity ensured no one was going to sleep anytime soon.

“Y’all hungry? We got a little left here,” Thad said.

“Hell yeah. Anything is better than those MREs,” Perez said.

“How was the camping trip?” Jeff asked.

“It was an interesting time,” Ian said.

“So how’d you guys end up with them?” I asked.

Ted pointed at Jamie. “She did it, did a damn fine job too.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Jamie said, waving her hand dismissively.

Ian cackled. “You should have seen her tackle that broad.”

“Ooh, catfight!” Jeff said. Jamie shot him a look.

There wasn’t much of the rice and squirrel left, but each of them managed to scrape together a bowl. Perez was munching away when he asked, “What kind of meat is this?”

“It’s squirrel!” Little Bit shouted.

Jamie looked at her bowl, picking at the meat. “Really? I’d have never guessed.”

“Thad is a magician with meat in all forms,” Danny said.

“Apparently so! It’s really good,” Jamie said as she scraped the last few grains of rice from her bowl. After she was done, Jamie stood up from the table. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat. I’m going to sack out until they come for us.”

“Go to our cabin, you can use it,” Jeff said as he stood up.

Jamie eyed him with suspicion. Jeff held up his hands. “I won’t be in there, I’ll be out here. Promise.”

Jamie looked around at everyone. “Well, all right, thanks.” She went to the buggy and dragged her pack out, taking it to the cabin with her.

“Any of you guys want to get some sleep?” I asked.

They all shook their heads. “Nah, I want to sit by the fire and warm up,” Ian said. The rest of the guys nodded their heads in agreement, so we spent the rest of the night sitting out by the fire. There wasn’t much talk. We just sat watching the flames dance.

Mel woke me up just before dawn. I’d fallen asleep in my chair. I looked around. Thad was still there tending the fire. I was wet from the dew and felt cruddy.

“Why don’t you go in and get some sleep?” Mel asked.

“Nah, I’ll wait. How many eggs do we have?”

“A bunch. They are really starting to lay now. Why? You want to make breakfast?”

“Yeah, I’m going to make some tortillas and scramble up some eggs. Maybe throw in a little pork.”

“I’ll make the eggs if you want to do the tortillas,” Thad offered.

“Deal,” I said.

Thad whipped up the eggs using some of the rendered fat and diced pork. I mixed up the tortilla batter and rolled it into balls, then pressed them out. Using a hot skillet with just a little oil in it I quickly cooked them, turning out about two dozen. Thad had used the big Dutch oven and it was about half-full of fluffy eggs. My mouth watered at the thought of the breakfast burritos. When we set them out, everyone jumped up to make theirs. Even Lee Ann was eager to have some.

“This is
so
good,” Jamie said. “Thanks, guys.”

“Yeah, Dad, thanks,” said Taylor.

Everyone else nodded appreciatively, expressing thanks between bites.

At about eight, we heard the boat coming up the river. Thad looked into the pot—there was just enough for one more burrito. He rolled up the last of the eggs and set it back in the oven to keep warm. We all sat facing the river and watched as the boat glided to a stop at the river’s edge. Mike hopped out and came up to the group.

He stood there with his hands on his hips, looking at everyone. “Look at this bunch of frickin’ nuts.”

“Well, good morning to you too, Sunshine,” Ted said as he stuffed the last bite of burrito in his mouth.”

“Oh, that’s nice, rub it in, dickhead,” Mike said, then looked over and saw the girls. Looking at Mel, he mouthed a silent
sorry.

“What, you hungry? Don’t they make breakfast over there?” Thad asked.

“Not like this!” Perez barked.

“No, I didn’t eat that sh—stuff this morning,” Mike replied, looking at Mel. She couldn’t help but smile at him.

Thad lifted the lid from the Dutch oven and handed Mike the burrito. Mike flashed a huge smile. Taking a bite he held it up. “Thanks, man. I miss the food here.”

“Miss the food here?” I asked. “We don’t have too much to brag about.”

“I know, but you still manage to make something that tastes good with what you don’t have. Believe me, you don’t want to eat the stuff they serve down the river.” He shoved the rest in his mouth.

Ted stood up. “Well, as great as this was, I think we need to be getting back. Let’s get everything loaded up.” He looked at Mike. “What’s the old man doing with those poor souls?”

Mike grinned. “Oh, he let ’em stew all night. He’s going to question them today. Wait till you hear his plan.” Mike started to laugh. “You’re going to love it.”

“Really, do tell,” Ted said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mike wagged a finger at him. “No, no, you’ll have to wait. I want him to tell you. It’s priceless.”

“All right then, let’s get our stuff.” Ted turned to Thad. “Thanks for breakfast, I appreciate it.” Then he looked at Mel. “Thanks, Mel.”

Jamie, Perez, and Ian thanked us all as well. They quickly loaded their gear into the boat. Danny, Jeff, Thad, and I went to see them off.

I waved at them. “Come back when you can’t stay so long.”

Ted gave me the finger, getting a laugh out of everyone.

“Yeah, bring some groceries back when you come,” Thad said.

“Sure, we’ll swing by Publix,” Ian said as the boat began to back away from the bank.

We laughed and waved. But in the back of my head, I wondered if things would always be so happy. Sarge’s plan to invade was going to happen soon, and even though I didn’t know too many details, the sheer size of the operation told me it was going to be dangerous. We could only hope that they all stayed safe.

T
he three prisoners sat on the ground, hands tied behind their backs. Sarge sat on a bucket in front of them, staring at each in turn. The woman’s face was covered in blood that ran from her nose down to her shirt. Both of her eyes were now black from the head butt Jamie had delivered. Her hat was gone now and her red hair hung down over her face in strings. She looked, in a word, miserable.

Sarge stared at her, then looked at the tag on her shirt.

“All right, there, Singer, I’m going to remove the tape from your mouth so we can talk,” Sarge said as he pulled it off with a satisfying rip.

Once the tape was removed it left a clean rectangle on her face, giving her a comical look. Singer blew some hair out of her face, then looked at Sarge. “Do you know who you’re fucking with?”

Sarge looked up at the people gathered behind him. “Do
we
know who
we’re
fucking with?”

Mike and Ted laughed, and Ian had a big smile on his face. Sheffield and Livingston both were expressionless. Jamie had a sly grin on her face, remembering the sound Singer’s nose made when she crushed it.

Sarge looked back at Singer. “Yeah, I think we do. Do you have any idea who we are?”

Singer glanced around the assembly of people. “A bunch of dead men”—she looked at Jamie—“and one dead bitch.”

Jamie’s grin grew into a smile and she winked at Singer. Naturally, this sent Singer off on a tirade of cussing. Sarge snapped his fingers in front of her face to get her attention.

“Look, we’re here to help with the security of the camp. I just need a little info.”

The two men tied beside Singer shared a look, then motioned that they wanted to speak. Sarge pulled the tape from one of them.

“If you guys are here to help with the security of the camp, why are we tied up?”

“We have intelligence that the camp has been infiltrated. We have to be cautious.”

“Bullshit!” Singer shouted. “Don’t tell these assholes a damn thing!”

Sarge looked over at her. “I’m not talking to you.
You
need to keep quiet.”

“We’re DHS . . . you, you, you bunch of
idiots
are under our authority right now! You answer to us, we don’t answer to you!” Singer screamed, then added, “Now untie me!”

Sarge smiled and got up, going inside the command tent. He returned with a pair of socks. Singer looked at them, then back at him. “Don’t even think about it!”

Sarge sat back down on the bucket and smiled. “What? I need to change my socks. You know how your feet get when you’ve been wearing the same socks for four or five days. My dogs are barkin’.”

Sarge looked back at the man he spoke to moments ago while he unlaced his boots. “Like I said, we have to be careful. Now we’re going to see if you’re one of the ones who snuck in. What’s the name of your CO?” Sarge pulled one of his socks off and wiggled his toes. “Ahh, damn, that feels good.”

“Don’t tell him. He’s fishing. They aren’t here to help us!” Singer shouted.

Sarge had his foot pulled up, picking at his toes. Sheffield and Livingston both looked on, uncomfortable with where the situation was.

Singer looked at Sarge as he dug between his toes.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, you nasty son of a bitch,” she asked.

With more speed than anyone thought the old soldier possessed, Sarge reached out, quickly grabbing her bottom jaw and forcing her mouth open. He then forcefully crammed a rolled-up sock into her mouth. Singer gagged and choked as Sarge smiled and ran his finger underneath her nose. Her face turned a bright red, almost purple, veins bulging in her neck.

Almost immediately, Mike shouted, “Holy shit! That’s the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen!” Jamie too was sickened by what she saw. With her hand cupped over her mouth she said, “Oh my God, I think I’m going to be sick.” She turned away from the scene and quickly walked toward the brush. Mike started retching too. Ted shook his head. He knew the old man was capable of doing almost anything, but this pushed the limits.

Sheffield grabbed Sarge’s arm. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shutting her up. She isn’t hurt, she’ll live.”

The two men sitting beside Singer were clearly horrified. There was one more sock sitting there and neither of them had any desire in their souls to find out what it tasted like.

“Mitchell, take that out of her mouth,” Sheffield said.

Sarge swiveled around. “She ain’t hurt,” he said, then looked back at Singer, “but she did shut up.”

Sarge moved in closer to Singer, who was now a real mess. Drool ran down her chin and with every breath through her broken nose snot flowed back and forth.

“All right, missy, I’m going to take this out now. You say one damn word and it’ll be my drawers in your mouth next.” Singer looked up and nodded weakly. “And that applies to you too, gentleman.”

Sarge pulled the sock out. It was followed by an impressive amount of saliva that rolled onto her shirt. Singer spit repeatedly into the dirt. She hung her head and didn’t look up. Sarge looked at the other two men and smiled.

“Gentlemen, I guess it’s up to you.”

“If you guys are here to help, why’d you do this?” one of the men asked.

Sarge looked at his name tag. “Well, Dunlap, it’s like this. We have intelligence that suggests there are elements inside the camp that may be planning to take it over. We don’t know why they want to do this or who they are, so we are a little suspicious.”

Behind Sarge, Sheffield and Livingston shared a look.

“What? Take it over? Who the hell would want to do that, and why?”

The man sitting beside him began to mumble through his tape. Sarge reached over and pulled it off, then looked at his name tag. “What’cha got to say there, Wallace?”

“I can believe there are some that would want to. There’s a lot of people in there that are unhappy.”

“So you understand our need for security, then?” Sarge asked. Wallace nodded. “With that in mind, then, can you help us out?”

“Sure, I’ll do whatever I can to help out.”

“I’ll help too,” Dunlap said.

“Out-fucking-standing, gentlemen!” Sarge said as he stood up. “Let’s get these guys some grub, maybe a drink of water.”

“What about her?” Ted asked, nodding at Singer.

“Leave her ass right where she is, but someone bring her a drink of water.”

“Or some gasoline to wash that funk out of her mouth,” Mike said.

“Ted, can you guys build us a sand table model of the camp?” Sarge asked.

“Sure. Ian, you want to give us a hand? Jamie, you too,” Ted replied.

The four headed off to start building the model. Before Dunlap and Wallace were cut loose, Sarge asked them a few more questions.

“What’s your CO’s name?”

“Charles Tabor, but I don’t think he wants to take over the camp. Hell, he already runs it,” Wallace said.

“I agree, just wanted to make sure my info was accurate,” Sarge said, then waved them off. “Go with these fellas. They’ll get you some grub and water.”

Sheffield motioned for Sarge to follow him into the CP. Once inside, Sheffield fell into a chair, running his hand through the stubble on his head.

“What the hell? Are you just making this shit up as you go?”

“Yeah, that’s not what you told us you were planning,” Livingston said.

“It’s called improvisation. Look, we have very little intel to work on here. But think about it: we roll up and tell old Charles Tabor that we’ve intel saying some of his people are trying to take over the camp and we’re there to help him. Do you think he’s gonna question it?”

“Why in the hell would he believe that?” Sheffield asked.

“We’ve got the map the guys made—it’s very good, like someone inside drew it up. Plus,” Sarge pointed out the tent flap, “those two are going to give us even more info, so we’ll be able to label everything on it. And, I’m going to take their IDs with me, to show him.”

“What the hell is that supposed to prove?” Livingston asked.

Sarge shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll have to see how he reacts to it. It’ll lend credence to the story that there are people inside the camp looking to overthrow his command.”

“I don’t know, this just seems like a cluster fuck in the making,” Sheffield said.

“You got a better idea, Captain? I’m all ears,” Sarge said as he sat back in one of the chairs.

“No, not really. It just seems kinda sketchy.”

“You want to try a frontal assault, maybe a classic pincer movement? We need at least five to one to pull that off and there aren’t nearly that many people here. If this works, they’re going to open the front door and invite us in. I’m going to get ole Charlie to assemble his people and surrender their weapons.”

“How the hell do you expect to do that?” Livingston practically shouted.

“’Cause I’m going to tell him some of them want to put a bullet in his head and we’re there to find them. They’ll lay down their weapons and then we’ll tell him that we’re interviewing the staff. Once we’ve got all the weapons, we own the place. This takeover can be done without firing a shot.”

“You know, Captain, as crazy as this sounds, it may just work. I mean, it really could work,” Livingston said.

“I just don’t want to get any of my soldiers or these civilians killed,” Sheffield said.

Sarge stood up. “Captain, I don’t know what you did in your civilian life, but you are in the army, now more than ever. You’re a commissioned officer at that, you’re going to have to make decisions that
will
”—Sarge emphasized the last word—“get people killed, whether it’s your enemy or some of those under your command. All we can do is plan the best we can to minimize the latter.”

Sheffield nodded his head. “I know, it’s just life is hard enough right now. Adding casualties to the mix will make things that much worse. I just want to anticipate that scenario.”

“You’re right. Life is tough right now, but you’re out here and those poor people are trapped in there. Some of them may want to be there, and that’s fine, but if there’s even one person in there being held against their will, then it’s got to be dealt with,” Sarge said.

Sheffield thought about that for a minute. “How many of my people’s lives is that one person worth? What’s a fair trade?”

Sarge wagged his finger at him. “What’s that you’re wearing there?”

Sheffield looked down. “What? My uniform?”

“Exactly—a uniform, and not a mailman’s or basketball player’s, you’re wearing the uniform of the United States Army. Keeping that in mind, you’re not in a position to decide which missions you will and won’t take. You have no politics. It is up to us to go into harm’s way on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves.”

Sheffield let out a long breath and nodded. “You’re right. Let’s get to it, then. What do we need to do now?”

“Assemble your NCOs. When the sand table is done, we’ll go over it. Then we need to get everyone organized. Everyone needs to be in clean uniforms, as sharp as possible. They have to look the part. Get all your trucks cleaned out and ready too. How are you on fuel?”

Sheffield looked at Livingston. “Low, very low. We have enough to put some in every truck, but not much beyond that,” Livingston said.

“That’s fine, this is a one-way trip. They got fuel there. And we need to make sure we’ve got an NCO in each truck. I don’t want anyone getting trigger-happy,” Sarge said.

“We’ve got that covered. We’ll split the squads up and stick a couple of the civilians in to supplement the ones that are short. I’ve scrounged up enough uniforms for them as well,” Livingston said.

“How about weapons and ammo?” Sarge asked.

“Oh yeah, with that delivery there’s plenty.”

“Good, then let’s get to work on the model so we can get everyone up to speed. Have you picked out your civilians yet?”

“I’ve got a list of volunteers. We picked out a dozen that we feel are up to the task,” Sheffield said.

“I’ll round up the noncoms,” Livingston said.

“Good. I’m going to check on the boys working on the sand table.”

Sarge found the guys out on the road. They had a large area swept clean and were laying out leaves, sticks and rocks to indicate structures inside the camp. Ted was holding the drawing and pointing out where the various things were to be placed. Ian and Mike were arguing over the materials they were using. Jamie was knelt on the opposite side of the area they were working on, shaking her head.

“No, use these magnolia leaves for the tents. They’re bigger,” Mike said.

“What’s the difference? A leaf is a leaf,” Ian said.

Mike snatched up a smaller leaf. “No, it’s not—use the bigger ones!” he snapped as he threw the leaf.

“You two are idiots,” Jamie said.

Mike and Ian both looked up. Mike asked, “What, you got a better idea?”

“Just pick one, jeez!”

“Teddy, you got this under control?” Sarge asked.

Ted looked up. “Yeah, I got it, if these two will stop arguing.”

“Hey! We’re not arguing, we’ve got creative differences,” Mike said as he knelt at the edge of the model.

Sarge chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what you got. Hurry up and get this done.” Looking at his watch, he added, “You got an hour.” Shaking his head, he spun on his heels and walked off.

 • • • 

Charles Tabor sat behind his desk looking at the stack of paper in front of him. His deputy, Ed Mooreland, sat in a chair on the other side of the desk. He was holding a file and tossed it onto Charlie’s desk.

“What do you want to do with those girls?” Ed asked.

Charlie picked up the file and flipped it open. “Well, they admitted to it. The rules say they have to be executed.”

“What about the claims he raped one of them?”

Charlie looked up. “He’s dead, so we can’t ask him, now, can we? Do it tomorrow afternoon in front of a full assembly so they know what happens if they get any ideas.” He tossed the file onto his desk and picked up another from the pile. “We get anything out of those two we brought in?”

“Not yet, the guys roughed the old man up pretty bad, so he hasn’t been questioned yet, and the kid’s been interrogated once. But they strung him up overnight and he got hypothermia, nearly died. I’ll have Niigata take another shot at him once his condition improves.”