American Blackout (Book 2): Slaves Beneath The Stars Page 14

“Last question,” Cricket said. “Who’s behind this?”

  “A lot of people,” he mumbled.

  “No, there’s only one.”

  Fritz looked at Cricket like she already knew the answer and just needed the confirmation.

  “Ajax,” the kidnapper sputtered. “A soulless bastard.”

  “Where can we find him?”

  The man flashed a shit-eating grin—he knew he was dead meat—but his interrogators were even bigger pieces in the very near future.

  “He’s everywhere.”

  “Step back, Cricket,” Fritz said. She did, and he drew his Glock and fired at their prisoner, who spent his last fraction of a second confused and pissed off. Cricket shined the light and saw that Fritz had nailed him above the bridge of his nose. Cricket looked at her husband in amazement.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I had no idea you were playing good cop/bad cop.”

  “I wasn’t. Something I had to do before you tore out his fingernails.”

  Neither spoke a word as they returned to the house.

  33

  Spitfires and Losers

  “We’ll need two volunteers,” Cricket said.

  Without hesitation Lawrence and Ann signed up.

  “Good,” Hank said, after radioing the Clines with the news of Lee Ann’s kidnapping and asking for backup at the farm. “One couple waits with the canoes. The other couple gets the children. Two canoes should do the trick, although depending on the number taken, you may need multiple trips.”

  They got their plan from Hank, whose friend, a Hilltop native, operated a canoe livery east of Marietta. With Sister’s help, Hank left the room briefly and returned with a satchel holding four hand grenades.

  “Hanging on to these for the right opportunity.” Hank leaned toward Fritz. “And the time’s arrived. These are from a fellow vet whose son had access to the West Virginia armory after everything went to hell. Fritz, you ever throw one of these?”

  “Yeah, during small-arms training. An M-67?”

  Hank nodded and handed Fritz one from the bag. Cricket moved in closer to inspect the apple-shaped explosive, which reminded her of an awful horror movie she had seen at fourteen, in which a similar-looking fruit-size device would self-open and wreak havoc.

  “A fragmentation grenade in use for a long time. A real killing, mutilating weapon. Fritz, I’m sure you could throw the thing about eighty feet. Cricket, maybe half of that. But that’s no good. Its killing radius is fifty feet. Cricket, unless you can pop it into a vehicle, a cave, a building, or take cover, have Fritz heave it shot-put style. No offense.”

  “No worries, Hank,” Cricket said somberly. “Lee Ann’s missing—my ego’s been shelved.”

  Hank nodded grimly. “Weighs just under a pound, and there’s a four-second delay.”

  Diesel decided to whine and sit on his haunches, obviously taking Hank’s instructions seriously as well. Hank demonstrated for everyone how to hold the grenade, pull its pin, and throw it.

  “Two important things. It’ll be dark, so the chance of hitting something like a tree and it bouncing back into your lap will be even greater. Second—take cover. I imagine you’ll be closer to your target than a hundred feet—which, even at that distance, you could be struck by a fragment.”

  Fritz addressed his wife and his volunteers. “We want the grenade to land within twenty feet of its target.”

  Cricket watched Ann trying to keep her head up, showing no fear, but the craziness and danger of the mission were lunging at her just as Caleb entered the kitchen. Sister Marie reached and missed the boy, who dashed to his mom for a long hug. Ann started crying, and Sister gently steered the boy back to his room, which his father insisted on with a move of his head.

  “I can’t lose my boys,” Ann said. “That’s why I’m crying. I’m not afraid. I’ve had enough shooting practice these last two months. I’m sad because I may never come back to my boys.” Lawrence drew her close, saying, “We’re all returning.” Ann eyed Hank. “Will you and Sister make sure the boys stay safe?”

  Head lowered, Hank made the sign of the cross and said, “You’re all coming back with Lee Ann.”

  Minutes later they were headed down to the river. Cricket reviewed their proposed plan, keeping Lawrence and his wife at the canoes and ready to launch. Fritz went over the when-everything-goes-to-hell plan, and Cricket fired the discussion to another level when she said what she’d do with Ajax once she caught him. “Bastard’s the head of a new slave trade. Makes the drug business look like a shell company.”

  “Cricket, stay focused,” Fritz said. “And Lawrence, you have the watch. Give us an hour.”

  Cricket drove the Barracuda at a speed that invited trouble. She knew that trouble tonight would come as a five-course meal, and the pieces of crap littering the road that she swerved around or hit were only appetizers. Fritz continued his instructions.

  “Position yourself to hit the slavers hard, before they make landfall. Anyone jumps in the water, shoot them, too.”

  “With pleasure,” Ann replied. “Could there be children on board?”

  “We understand this is their first stop. Any doubts, wait until they’re close, then check out the crew and any company.”

  Cricket wound through the streets of Marietta and avoided the noisier sections where bonfires raged and drag racing was being carried on with pre-1970 jalopies. Men and women patrolled the quieter streets, and Cricket acknowledged their vigilance with a nod and an arm shot out the window and a thumbs-up.

  Finally they were on the road paralleling the river, aiming for the eastern end of the island. A couple of times she struck something in the road, yet the old muscle car never popped a tire or dragged some piece of garbage for more than a few seconds, shaking it off with Diesel’s skill for shaking water off a wet coat.

  Cricket kept scouting the island for lanterns or a fire.

  “These monsters have little to fear.”

  “Except us,” Fritz said, cold-bloodedly, turning to Ann and her husband, who were huddled close, holding hands.

  “You’re sure you don’t want to go ashore together?” Ann Davies asked.

  “In the dark, the four of us are likely to shoot each other.”

  “Or make too much noise,” Cricket added, spotting the gravel pit along the river and pulling in, parking among several rows of trees that stretched along the bank.

  Each well-armed, they followed Fritz to the water and to a small dock where they expected to find canoes. The chains locking a rowboat and six canoes had been cut and the property taken. Someone had left an oar.

  The forested island appeared as a tombstone slab suspended between the water and the high, thin clouds. Fritz said, “Hank mentioned that his partner was a real survivalist kind of guy and he had a stash of canoes along a small tributary near a recently downed tree.”

  They soon found it, an enormous maple that had fallen into the river, its branches being swept by the current. No one spoke; they only stumbled in the dark, swore, and immediately excused themselves. Near a large lower branch, Cricket found the tributary and tripped repeatedly.

  She prayed, asking to find Lee Ann. She couldn’t lose this young girl. The abortion of her own child and the loss of Grace were crippling moments. She couldn’t imagine a world without the brightness of the young Lee Ann. Finding four full-size canoes partially hidden by brush, she felt her hope become renewed and her physical strength double.

  Lawrence and Fritz carried the canoes, and the women gathered up the paddles. When both canoes sat in the water and they were ready to push off, Fritz stepped forward and made his final remarks.

  “Keep discussions to a minimum. We’ll glide along the island’s north side and hopefully find their canoes. Then, we’ll go a bit further, keeping their landing in sight and stopping there. We get the kids and head to shore. If we don’t make this landing, head to the road and make a right. We’ll be waiting for you. Remember, strike hard before they make landfall or wh
en several are on shore securing the boat. You’ll know what to do and when to do it. You two are the best.”

  His arms folded, Ann’s husband stood quiet and solemn.

  Again, Cricket saw Lawrence coming out of the rectory of Saint Andrew’s with guns ablaze, saving her and Sister Marie. It had been an extraordinary moment of courage. She felt blessed to have both men tonight, even though her husband had pissed her off with his straight-ahead, well-controlled, can-do style, instructing her like she was one of the men beneath him.

  They paddled quietly. It took Ann a few strokes to learn to dip in the paddle instead of beating the water into submission. A short time later the two canoes glided close to shore.

  No sound or light, and the trees made an unbroken wall along the bank. Both canoes reversed paddling and glided slowly toward land.

  Cricket spotted the rowboat. Even with two adults, the seating would accommodate four children.

  The canoes side by side, Fritz whispered, “Here’s our transportation back with the kids. Whoever arrives first with the kids takes the rowboat. The canoe can still carry a couple of children too.”

  “Let’s find our spot.” Cricket was anxious to start the rescue.

  They crept along using the branches to hug the bank. Cricket kept turning to keep the landing in sight. A fallen tree jutting into the water provided their cover. Canoeing around to the opposite side, they loosely tied both canoes to a heavy branch.

  Big Phil hadn’t felt this proud in weeks: all the children were healthy, and nearly all were blonde. He was especially enamored with a little spitfire named Lee Ann, who talked constantly and asked a million questions. She even recited the words from some Declaration of Something, but it was alien to him, strange-sounding ideas, yet it left him feeling sad, making him think of his children.

  Big Phil had been the father of two boys, and this was the girl he never had and nobody would harm her. The rope he loosely held was tied to a thicker one around her waist. He even let her talk to the children about not being scared. In rapid-fire speech, she had said that these were good men, maybe confused, but not to worry, because crickets were coming to their rescue. Goodness, what an imagination, he thought.

  Once he had them in the rowboat, he and his partner made their way to an island near the center of the river. He had blankets for all the kids, and he had them carry them to their campsite to await a bigger boat to take them to a special place, ignoring their cries that they wanted to be back home with their parents and siblings.

  Once they were settled in and sleeping, except Lee Ann, he decided to have a cigarette. He warmed his lungs and then blew the smoke out slowly, a moment of real satisfaction. Ajax would reward him well for this catch. After that night when the trees had shaken above him and his puny life seemed about to be crushed, he made a promise that if he survived, he’d be the dutiful, perfect servant to a man who had never been a devil but was a god.

  Through the branches he caught sight of something larger than a man, scooting across the limbs, shaking the arms of the tree with the strength of a fierce wind. The thing above had enormous eyes that shined black and sparkled.

  Big Phil dropped his smoke, and Lee Ann told him to be more careful, that he’d burn the whole place down if he didn’t pay attention.

  34

  Slave Boat

  There were no sounds other than the occasional slow crunch of leaves and Cricket’s heartbeat. She screamed to herself that she should have the power to reach out and touch Lee Ann, pull her into her arms. The child felt so close, and Cricket sensed that the darkness broadcast the girl’s emotions just as the night air seemed to transmit sound so well.

  When she and Fritz reached the rowboat, they waited to make sure someone wasn’t sleeping alongside it or had just gone off to the woods to relieve themselves. They waited a few minutes, listening, and then approached it and looked inside. Everything had been removed, including the oars and rowlocks.

  They both scanned the forest ahead and spotted a path that led up a short hill. They had drawn their guns at the boat, and Fritz let Cricket go first. She was quieter, and they both knew she had the better tracking instincts. After reaching an even darker area, she squatted and listened, and Fritz did the same.

  For the first time that night, she was cold even with a thermal long-sleeve shirt under a thin sweatshirt. It was probably near forty degrees and would get close to freezing by morning. That realization collided with a child’s cough.

  Fritz heard it too, alerting her with a light touch on her shoulder. She knew he’d rely on her for the direction. She waited.

  A man’s voice, deep and impatient, made a one-word command: sleep. She looked for a campfire and saw nothing ahead. Not even the smell of smoke from an earlier fire for cooking. She had hoped for some light to distinguish the number of villains and children.

  Fritz expected several, but she believed a pair of monsters would be able to control a group of frightened kids. She took another step and quickly crouched lower when she saw a match flare. The cigarette smoke soon reached them.

  Cricket touched the forest floor. Fallen leaves. Thick and brittle. She started to stand up and felt a light pressure on her shoulder. Fritz wanted them to be still. Silently, she agreed. She could see the trace of the cigarette and in about three seconds could be on top of the kidnapper, but where were the others, and how many?

  She could almost make out the arm of the smoker. Was his back to her, or was he looking in her direction?

  The soft puttering of a small engine, like a teakettle bubbling but never whistling, alerted the two kidnappers. The smoker grunted for his friend to rise and then roughly woke up the children with a couple of words. She couldn’t hear clearly. But the effect made several children whimper, and one cried out loudly, earning a slap.

  Fritz and Cricket started to move when the kidnappers’ flashlights slashed the darkness, ordering the children to hurry, to put on their shoes. Soon the flashlights would be aimed at them.

  Fritz snatched Cricket’s hand and led her to the right, to a large tree to take cover. The kidnappers’ slave boat drew closer to the island, and she prayed that Ann and Lawrence were able to eyeball the scoundrels. She feared they’d wait too long, watch the predators disembark, then panic and spray bullets into the island.

  The kidnappers herded the children with panicked voices of their own. They were tying them together. Cricket heard one young boy pleading that it was too tight. She caught the shadowy form of an enormous owl approach and silently glide along the forest floor. Fritz faced the river and she faced the children, still invisible except for some movement through the trees.

  Fritz leaned in. “Let’s separate. Ten feet apart. I’ll take the lead guy.”

  She nodded. She understood. “At the same time?”

  “Yeah, if we can.”

  The pounding of Lawrence and Ann’s AR-15s began, and Cricket felt like a curtain had been lifted and they were all instantly visible. The couple were doing their husband-wife thing in earnest. The two rifles harmonized with the rhythm of a Gatling gun.

  Fritz shot the kidnapper fleeing for the boat. The dying man howled into the night, and Cricket saw a form colliding with trees and low branches. Fritz kept firing and the man’s screams abruptly ended.

  “I have the kids!” the smoking kidnapper called out. “You want ’em alive? Okay, I get it, you won. You let me go and the kids go.”

  “How many?” Fritz yelled.

  “Five, but I take one with me. Insurance.” He shined a flashlight on Lee Ann.

  “No deal,” Fritz said. “Let them all go now! You go to the boat. We don’t follow.”

  “How many of you?”

  “One,” Fritz said.

  “Bullshit.”

  “I’m alone. Two others at the river took out your pals.”

  The children were loud in their complaints. A few cried uncontrollably.

  “Four coming your way.” The man’s voice shook. “I’ll snuff out th
e one I have if you make a move toward me.” He barked at the children, and Cricket whispered to her husband that she’d go after the kidnapper.

  “I’m right here, kids,” Fritz said loudly. “Walk toward my voice.” Fritz kept talking. Telling them they’d be safe and headed home soon with food and warm clothes.

  Cricket used Fritz’s monologue and the kids’ shuffling through the leaves, tripping in the darkness and crying, to stalk the man. She was only feet away when she saw that the kidnapper had Lee Ann. The man held a rope tied at Lee Ann’s waist.

  Not tall but broad-shouldered, with a big chest and gut, he kept one hand on the back of Lee Ann’s neck and held a gun in the other. Cricket could attack immediately, but just as quickly he’d snap the young girl’s neck.

  The man was glib. “I’ve got no use for the brats. Any of them. Not my thing. I’ll free the one I got once I get to shore. No more surprises.” Cricket, all in black, blended with the pair of trees and low branches she stood alongside. “I got a boat. I’ll go away quietly. No more trouble. Just a few months ago I operated a crane. I was good at it. Think they’ll have use for cranes again? Probably not. People want things—the basics—you know, this guy Ajax… isn’t gonna take kindly to losing these kids. I’m going south. Done with all this. It’s no good. I had kids of my own—the wife took them—said I was unfit…”

  The confession weakened the man, especially the mention of Ajax, his voice cracking. She couldn’t see his features, but he lowered his large head like he again was standing before the judge, hearing his life fall into ruin. Lee Ann was staring at her kidnapper, studying him. A moment passed, and the girl ran straight for Cricket. The man yelled and fired into the air. Cricket couldn’t return fire with Lee Ann bounding like a deer to safety.

  Lee Ann screamed as Cricket roughly grabbed her and pushed her to the ground. She then pumped three rapid shots into the crane operator, and the man fell hard against an enormous pine.