John cursed under his breath and thought for a moment. “Hank, getting back into the city and making contact with Sara is going to be close to impossible. Breaking back into Windigo and somehow rescuing Peg would be even harder.”
“No matter what you say, I’ll try to do both on my own if I have to.”
“You’ve always been a stubborn old bastard, you know that? Now I know where Sara gets it from.”
Before Hank could defend himself with a comeback, the night suddenly erupted with blinding light surrounding them. The branches of their makeshift shelter went flying and half a dozen voices from all sides shouted commands for them to show their hands and not move. Bags were shoved over each man’s head and they were thrown to the ground, their wrists bound with flexicuffs behind their backs.
Hank was yanked to his feet and pushed from behind. He tripped over something and fell to his knees, only to be grabbed harder and lifted to his feet. The muzzle of a gun shoved painfully into his ribs and a gruff voice commanded him to walk. He stumbled forward. He couldn’t see anything through the burlap bag over his head. Couldn’t hear anything but the rasp of his own shallow breaths and the footsteps of his captors through the dead leaves.
They finally stopped and heard the noise of a creaking tailgate of a pickup being lowered. Somebody from behind practically tossed Hank into the bed of the truck and he hit his head on the unforgiving steel. The engine started and the truck moved slowly over the uneven terrain of the forest. Hank managed to sit up, but the constant swaying and bumping quickly made him carsick. He desperately wanted to yank the bag off his head and breathe in some fresh air. He took a chance and called out John’s name but was only greeted with another painful jab in the ribs from a rifle muzzle.
Mercifully, the truck finally turned onto smooth pavement and sped up. The wind rushing into the bed of the truck was a relief and helped to cool Hank’s sweaty skin. They could only be going to one place, of course, and that was back to Windigo. Hank felt the crushing weight of depression bear down on him as the miles slipped by. He’d be executed for sure, probably by Hendricks in person. Peg would rot in a tube. John would probably be shot right there as well and Sara would have no idea what ever happened to him. Hank could only pray that the State would leave her alone. Let her live out the rest of her days in peace and hopefully she would find happiness again.
The truck slowed down and Hank tipped over as it made a sharp turn off the pavement and off road again. After a few minutes of driving through the woods, the truck finally stopped and the engine died. The tailgate slammed open and a hand grabbed Hank by the shirtsleeve. His captors pushed and prodded, said nothing, as they briskly moved him along, stopping for a second as a door was opened. His feet hit wooden planks and he was shoved into a chair.
The bag was ripped off Hank’s head and he squinted at his surroundings. John sat directly to his right in another chair. They were in some sort of old shed or shack illuminated by a few oil laps hanging from the wall. The men who pushed the prisoners into the chairs walked around and stood on either side of them. Not soldiers as Hank expected, but two men dressed in old jeans and t-shirts holding rifles.
“One of you guys going to let us in on what the hell is going on?” Sanderson asked.
He was answered by the creak of the shed door in front of them as it opened. An old man wearing denim overalls and a ratty looking cowboy hat sauntered in. Behind him followed a young man wearing black fatigues similar to what the soldiers wore back at the power plant. Instead of crisply pressed and laundered, his were well worn and tattered. He scowled at Hank and crossed his arms.
The old man tipped his hat back and stroked his long grey beard. “Quite a racket out there this afternoon with that helicopter. I hear it ended up in the bottom of a ravine. I assume you boys had somethin’ to do with that?”
“Who are you?” Hank said.
“I’ll ask the questions for now, if you don’t mind. And the big one on my mind is just who you fellas are and what you’re doin’ traipsing around my woods and stirring up trouble?”
“Allow me to answer your question, Hank.” John turned to him. “Meet James Grayson, leader of the People’s Libertarian Militia. The angry young man standing behind him is his son, Holden. That’s just an educated guess since I’ve never seen his picture. His father, on the other hand, is quite the celebrity in my line of work. And if I was still in good standing with the State, my orders would be to shoot Brother Grayson on sight.”
Chapter 20
The guy standing next to the older man in the overalls pulled out a large handgun from behind his back and pointed it at Sanderson. “I knew it! He’s a fucking spook. Who else would be walking through the woods wearing an Armani suit and packing all that hardware?” He took a step forward and leveled the gun in Sanderson’s face. “I say we do ‘em both right now and get the hell out of here.”
Grayson gently took a hold of the man’s arm and made him lower the gun. “That’s enough, Holden. Before you start blasting, maybe it’s a good idea to get a little more information from these boys.” The kid leered at Sanderson before finally putting away his gun.
“You’ll have to forgive my son,” Grayson said. “He’s quick to temper like his mother was. And since we’re on the subject of family, I’ll kindly ask you to stow that
brother
nonsense. My brother was murdered by your employers some years back, so you’ll understand I take offense to be addressed as such. James is fine. Or simply Grayson if you prefer we stay on a last name basis.”
One of the men dragged a stool from the corner of the room and placed it in front of the prisoners. Grayson nodded his thanks and sat down with a groan. “Now then, I’ll ask you again. Who are you boys and what are you doing in my woods?”
“My name is John Sanderson and this is my father-in-law, Hank Reed. Up until this afternoon, I was an assassin for the State and Hank worked in the Windigo power plant. I helped him escape and now we’re on the run. Satisfied?”
Grayson cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “You don’t beat around the bush, Mr. Sanderson. I’ll give you that. And it’s a mighty big hand to play, assuming you’re telling me the truth.”
“I see no reason to lie,” John said. “You’ll keep us hostage and use us as propaganda fodder for your cause or execute us here tonight. Either way, I’m too tired to give a shit, so just cut the crap and get it over with.”
Grayson laughed. He removed his cowboy hat and scratched his bald scalp. “Your son-in-law has quite the silver tongue, Hank. Windigo, eh? Were you a butcher or did you work with those god-awful pods?”
“The pods, but how…”
“You’re looking at a fellow escapee,” Grayson interrupted. “I got shipped there after I retired, same as you. Escaped too, only I didn’t have any help from my kin at the time.”
“No, that came later,” Sanderson said. “He met up with his younger brother and son and it didn’t take long for the three of them to whip up a nice little army. A real magnet for radicals, insurgents, and terrorists. Although the State suspected they called the north woods home, we never could track them down. Every time we got a good lead and thought we had the drop on ‘em, they managed to slip away. Nothing but the subtle remains of a camp left behind.”
“Dammit, Dad,” Holden growled. “I don’t like this one bit. This guy knows too much. I’m telling you, this son of a bitch is leading us right into a trap!”
“Settle down, Junior,” Sanderson said. “All we’re trying to do is get out of the woods in one piece. If you would’ve just left us alone to get a few hours sleep, you’d never seen us again.”
“Enough!” Grayson snapped. “That’s enough from the both of you. I’ve stayed one step ahead of the game all these years thanks to my gut feelings, and right now, I believe you boys are telling me the truth.” He stood up and adjusted his hat. “Perhaps you’re right, Mr. Sanderson. I suppose maybe we should’ve let you be, but what’s done is done. It’s late and I need to get to bed. You’ll stay in here tonight and we’ll see what’s what in the morning.”
Grayson and his son left the shed. The two remaining men cut the flexicuffs off the prisoners and locked the door behind them. A few minutes later a woman came in with a couple of blankets and two bottles of water. Both men greedily drained them. Hank lay down on the hard floor but didn’t expect sleep to come easy.
Chapter 21
The door opened with a loud creak allowing bright daylight to flood the shed. Hank squinted and slowly lifted himself up on one elbow. His last memory of the night before was his proclamation to himself that he’d never get to sleep, but he must have gotten a few hours in. It felt like mere minutes.
One of Grayson’s goons stormed in and pointed at him. “Come on, get up. James wants to talk to you.”
“What about?” grumbled Sanderson.
“Not you, pretty boy. He just wants to see the old man.”
Hank looked at John who simply shrugged and rolled over onto his side. He slowly got up and followed the man out of the shed. Every muscle and joint in his body screamed at him but it wasn’t much of a surprise. They must have walked at least ten miles the day before, not to mention the firefight and helicopter fiasco. Hank took in his surroundings in the light of day as he followed the man. All around him, men and women seemed to pay him no attention as they moved with purpose attending to their morning chores in the camp. Olive colored tents sat in clusters around smoldering cooking fires. Beat up pickup trucks, vans, and a couple of military trucks lined the perimeter. Several guards were perched on top of them armed with high powered rifles and binoculars.
Hank approached a boarded-up farmhouse standing next to an old barn on the verge of falling over. James Grayson sat on the porch in an old rocker, puffing away on a pipe and watching him with a slight smirk. He rose to meet him as Hank reached the porch. “Morning, Hank. Get any sleep?”
Hank looked over his shoulder at the old shed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Slept like a rock, actually. Sleeping on the floor wasn’t too bad but I’d still prefer a bed.”
“Wouldn’t we all? I’ve been on a cot in this old house longer than I care to remember.” He stepped down from the porch and nodded at the man who escorted Hank. “Go on get some breakfast, Steve. I don’t think Hank will give me any trouble.” He winked at Hank and slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go for a little walk. This darn hip is acting up on me again and if I don’t loosen it up now, it’ll be howling at me all day.”
Grayson slowly led him through the overgrown yard to the field on the edge of camp. “I wanted to have a talk with you without our hotheaded kin interrupting us with a shouting match. Your son-in-law said he helped you escape. Care to share the whole story with me?”
As they walked the perimeter of the field, Hank told him about the incident with Hendricks, stumbling into the meat processing plant, and Seamus getting murdered.
Grayson paused and leaned up against a tree. “And you had no idea about John’s line of work before yesterday?”
Hank shook his head. “Not a clue. He’d been some sort of computer support guy for as long as I’d known him. Granted, we’d never been all that close, but I never had a reason not to believe him. And as far as I know, neither did my daughter.”
“I gotta tell ya, Hank. He makes me nervous.” Grayson looked over in the direction of the shed. “I just don’t know if I can trust him. We’ve got so much to lose and morale among my people hasn’t been all that great lately. Some days I feel like we’re hanging on by a thread.”
Hank sighed and shoved his hands in his pocket. “All I know is, he put his neck on the line to get me out of there. Not to mention he killed at least a dozen soldiers yesterday and yanked out his own tooth with my help. As far as I’m concerned, he’s on our side.”
“I wish I could be so sure. Truth is, we could use a man like him around here, that’s for sure.” He nodded at Hank. “You too.”
“Me? I don’t know how much help I could be,” Hank said. “I really just want to try and get home in one piece.”
“You’ve been in Windigo and that’s the key.” Grayson pushed himself off the tree and started walking again. “I’m gonna be straight with you, Hank. We’ve been working on an assault plan for Windigo for quite some time. We aim to take it out of commission for good and save as many retirees as we can get out. The problem is, it’s been a long time since I’ve been on the inside and my memory ain’t as sharp as it once was. I’ve assumed not much has changed as far as the layout inside and the security measures in place. Only our whole plan is based on the fuzzy memory of a senior citizen who has at least fifteen years on you. It keeps me up at night, worrying I’m going to get my people killed.”
“You want me to help,” Hank said.
“Something like that came to mind. A resource like you is too good to pass up. John too, if he’s willing to help us and we can trust him.” Grayson stopped and turned to face Hank. “Now, I know I’m in the position to where I could force you to comply, but that don’t sit too well with me. I’d like to think you’d be willing to help cuz you hate that place as much as I do.”
A large smile spread across Hank’s face and he started to chuckle.
“You wanna let me in on the joke?” Grayson asked.
“Last night before your guys nabbed us, John told me my wife retired early and she’s in Windigo right now. Hell, before you guys showed up, I was ready to storm in there on my own and try to save her. Not only will I help, but I’ll lead the attack.”
Grayson laughed. “I don’t know about that, but your presence will be a great help. If your wife is in there, we’ll do our best to help you find her. You have my word.” His smile faded. “I suppose I don’t have to tell you that you might not like what you find, though.”
Hank nodded. “According to John, she hasn’t even been there a week. I’ll bet she’s unconscious in one of the warehouses. I can feel it. I don’t see why we wouldn’t be able to revive her.”
“We’ve got an RN and a veterinarian here in camp. I’ll make sure they can do what they can to help.”