Cascadia Fallen: The Complete Trilogy, page 56
“Well, of course not, Ward. You make me sound like a tyrant when you ask it like that.”
“Then let us do our job. This is not a twenty-person gang in Bartlett. Good people on both sides will die for no reason if we just go in guns blazing. So, please—get back in your HumVee and go home.” He looked over at the major. “We don’t need any more people in charge out here.”
“Nice try, Raymond. You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Sandy countered. “Major—you’re in charge, now,” she ordered.
Adam Matsumoto’s face twisted with irritation, while the sheriff flushed with anger. “Absolutely not! No offense, Adam. This is a county issue, not a state or federal one.” He looked at Charlie. “Reeves! Get her back to her HumVee!” he barked.
“If you like living on the right side of the bars, Lieutenant, you’ll ignore that order!” She turned back to the sheriff. “The Unified Command passed a resolution this morning, giving me the authority to put the major in charge of this operation. Judge Floor approved it. After all, ninety percent of the men out here are his. Step aside, Sheriff. Or get arrested. I really don’t care which!”
Sheriff Raymond looked at all the faces around him. Confused fool needs time to think!
“Judge Floor? You mean the judge who was a county commissioner three days ago?” Sheriff Raymond yelled. He found the whole situation extremely iffy.
“The law is the law, Sheriff!” And that would be me! “Major? What is your plan to arrest Phillip Walker?”
Adam was not happy with the situation. Like everyone else present, he was buying moments, trying to think things through. But she was pressing. “We have people surrounding the entire facility. We’ll enter from here and keep them contained to their own property.” He was lying—he had another plan, but he didn’t want her to know.
There was an awkward silence while Adam thought he was done and Sandy didn’t. “That’s it? Great. Get started. Go on, Major.” What’s the problem with these weak men? We need to wrap this up and be ready for that cartel!
“Director, I’ll need to perform some last minutes checks and tasks. I need you to go wait in your HumVee for your own protection.”
The irony of what the major was doing to Sandy was lost on her. “I’m fine, Major! I’m in charge, now. Let’s get this show on the road!” she said, clapping her hands with her last words like some sort of basketball coach.
“You said the resolution placed me in charge, correct? Specialist?” Major Matsumoto called to a young soldier. “Escort the Director to her HumVee. Ensure the crew of that rig knows she is to stay put until I give an all-clear.” He looked back at Sandy when he said, “For her own protection.”
“Yes sir,” the young lady replied. “Ma’am?” she said to the director, trying to passively push her with a force field.
Sandy glared at Adam Matsumoto, but the frown eventually turned up into a knowing smirk. Good to see your balls finally drop. Don’t try it again…Sandy complied and moved back into the rig she showed up in.
Adam looked at the sheriff. “Why don’t you monitor from the back of the MRAP so she’ll stay out of the way?” The stunned sheriff nodded and moved back there quietly. “Charlie,” the major called out. “Did I hear your friend on the radio say something about talking terms?”
Charlie was confused. “Uh, no…I didn’t hear…” Then he caught the look on the major’s face. “Ooooh—Yeah!” He pulled the cell phone from his pocket.
“How ya doin’, Princess?” Earl asked his daughter. They were on the river, attempting to fish. They still hadn’t caught anything. Earl figured the ash runoff had killed off a lot of them. No need to tell her that. Just happy she’s starting to integrate.
“Alright, I guess,” Piper said. She had opened up to her mother, and even to Conner, about the attempted abduction. She was reluctant to talk to anyone very much.
“Piper, I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be straight with me.”
She had just finished casting. They were floating flies in a quieter pool not too far from their cabin. She finally looked at her dad with tears in her eyes. “Yes, I know it’s my fault,” she said passively.
“Princess…” Earl said sullenly. “I’m sorry that’s what you thought I was going to say.” They fished for a bit more. “Are you mad at me for taking the shot? Do you think I would’ve killed you?” Piper started crying. Earl reeled his line in and set his pole on the bank. “Baby…” he said, at a loss for words. The father and daughter embraced for a bit. “Let’s go up. They ain’t bitin’ today.”
When they got near the cabin, Owen was coming out. “Dad!” he called when he saw them, oblivious that his sister had been crying. “Conner called on the radio. Told me to drag you to the gate.”
“What’s it about?” Earl asked.
“He didn’t say, but he did say to hurry.”
“Alright. Go on in and help your mother, Princess,” he said to Piper. “Big O, could you secure this gear for me?”
“Yes, sir,” the teen said. He got busy, and Earl jumped on one of the quads to scoot up to the gate. When he approached, he could see Conner, Dianne, and Jack as well as two youth. His jaw dropped as he stopped the machine. Before him were two tired, grungy, worried, familiar faces. They had depleted backpacks and one shotgun with them. He almost thought his mind was playing tricks on him.
“Wesley? James? What’s going on, boys?” He looked around, confused. “Where’s your mama?”
James started to sob a bit. The autistic Wesley wasn’t going to cry, but he was rocking at the hips with stress. “Uncle Bubby!” James said, running to Earl and grabbing the big Ranger. That’s when the boy really started sobbing. He was gasping too much to talk.
Earl looked at Wesley. “Wes? Can you tell me what happened?” Wes just added heavy exhales to his rocking and his face crinkled even more. “Buddy, it’s okay if you can’t. Calm down.”
“Bad. Bad. Bad! Bad!” the fifteen-year-old started to repeat. His rocking intensified until tears finally started to come.
Earl dragged James with him and went over to wrap his arms around his older nephew. What. The. Hell. Happened! “James. I need you to calm down, now. What happened? How’d you get here?”
“Th-th-they killed my dad!”
“Who did? What happened to your mother and sister?” Earl was using his entire career in the Army as a foundation of calm, but inside he was exploding. “Talk to me, son. Where?”
“Way east of here!” the boy exclaimed. “Up near the pass. We’ve been walking and hiding for days!” Earl had finally looked at Conner, and his best friend’s face was as concerned as he had ever seen it. James finally composed himself enough to finish. “We were on the way to here,” he said. “We stopped at Grandpa’s first.”
“When was that?” Conner asked.
James looked at him. “Like about two weeks ago.” He looked back at his uncle. “It was going slow ‘cause the Cub got a flat. We were staying on hiking trails south of the highway, mostly. We made it to Snoqualmie Pass about a week ago.”
“Go on,” Earl nudged.
“The trail cuts through some homes and then follows power lines across the mountains. We were quite a ways off from the highway. We came up on a team of horses and a wagon. Mom and Dad made me and Wes hide in some trees a little bit away!” The boy started getting anxious again. “They got jumped by a whole bunch of men! They killed my dad, Uncle Bubby!” The boy yelled, grabbing onto his uncle again. “W-we couldn’t bury him! We had to just leave him there! Th-they took M-mom and Kathy!” he screamed into Earl’s coat.
26
“What?”
Tahoma’s Hammer Plus 25 Days.
“What?” Legion yelled.
“The law and soldiers had to retreat in Seattle last night,” the kidnapped radio operator repeated in his attic dungeon. “Plain as day. They were outnumbered and outgunned. Not only did I hear it on the local freqs, but that is the story being talked about on the HF channels all around the country. I even heard a conversation from South or Central America. They’re talking about it.”
Unacceptable, Legion thought. This is our territory—it’s our time! “How many?”
“No idea, but the cops were guessing at least two thousand.”
Two thou— “What?!” Legion repeated. How is that possible? It’s only been four weeks! Less than, actually! “Keep listening!” he barked at the man and the prospect guarding him. He flew downstairs. “Praetorium! Five minutes!” he yelled loud enough for everyone to hear. Members of the support clubs started scrambling to go let people in the other houses know. Family members were put on lock down. Something bad was going on.
Praetorium. It was sacred to the club. More than a meeting or church, it was where brothers were made and business was handled. Members and invited guests only were locked in chambers—no guns, no phones, no grudges or beefs. If someone had something to say against another brother, it happened there. If a brother was being put “out bad”—kicked out of the club—Praetorium was where they had their club ink skinned off with a knife and lost an eyeball. It was balance—war and peace…yin and yang…heaven and hell.
The chamber wasn’t meant for more than the normal compliment of members and guests, maybe twenty people. With invited club’s officers there were almost fifty crammed in, all with a concerned look. There was a nervous buzz.
“Seal the chamber!” Legion ordered.
The two men closest to the door did as ordered. Legion sat in his big, padded chair, looking over at where Trip and Shorty should be. “I appreciate how you all have rallied, and how we’ve been able to go about conducting business here in the valley.” He looked around. “You all need to keep it zipped when I say what I got to say. Feel me?”
There was a chorus of agreement. The room was heating up with all the bodies, made worse as nerves were starting to swell. Legion continued. “There is a no-kiddin’, two-thousand-man Cartel Army that took over North Seattle last night.” Despite his orders, the room exploded with comments. What? Are you sure? No way!
Legion rubbed his temples for a moment, then picked up the big battle hammer that he kept on the floor next to his chair. Big Mac had been quiet. When he saw the hammer, he plugged his ears. The big chair went flying backwards as Legion stood. Wham! The eight-pound maul came down and splintered the thick, oak table where he slammed it with all his rage. His most trusted brothers were absent, his plans were falling apart, and these knuckleheads couldn’t follow a simple instruction to shut up. It had all added up.
“Quiet!” he screamed. Some of the members of the subservient clubs were not happy being treated like that. Men quieted, but nostrils were flaring and foreheads were darkening with anger.
He looked around the room. If he caught any attitude, the hammer was getting bloodied. “We need to get hold of the others—all of them but the Mexicans. They obviously knew this was comin’. This is real. They had rocket launchers and mortars. Get it?” He paused. They were all paying strict attention this time. “We got one choice. Find the Russians and the Blacks and form an immediate alliance. I’m not even puttin’ this up for a vote! Anyone got a problem with that?” The room was in stunned silence.
“Now’s your chance,” Big Mac said, backing up his state president. “I will personally de-patch any brother who whines about this after Praetorium is over!”
Nobody felt like losing skin and an eye. They all knew Legion was right. If all they were being told was true, it had become a numbers game, and a real shooting war was on the way.
The standoff was entering its fourteenth hour. The sun was starting its November descent and the shadows in the forest were all growing. Phil was coming back from the north perimeter when he got a few texts from the guys at the gate, and from Shay. He learned that some lady had arrived and essentially emasculated the sheriff. He texted back to Shay.
[Phil: “Hang in there, kiddo. You’ll be having company soon. Approaching from the west. You should see them any minute now.”]
He pulled the old piece of tarp out of his pocket and looked at the circular stitching. If this doesn’t work, it’s going to be a bad night…
The mesh network! Still plugged in! Phil had given Charlie access during the stint that he and his family were staying out there. He shot Phil a text, hoping.
[Charlie: “We need to talk. Let me come in. Just me.”]
After a long three minutes, he felt a phone vibrate for the first time in weeks. I knew keeping this thing charged would come in handy!
[Brrrt—Phil: “Meet you halfway down the rifle line. Proceed.”]
Charlie hoped that he didn’t get shot approaching the gate. He had his hands slightly up and walked slowly. Buddy Chadwell unlocked the secondary gate that goes to the rifle line and let him through. Charlie could see a few people lining the trees as he walked down the road. Yikes. He couldn’t help but look at the big log structure that was nearing completion. That’s pretty impressive. Especially the rock fireplaces. He made it to the far end of the structure near the slots for holding targets at the hundred-yard marker.
The bright, blue November day was chilly, especially in the long shadows of autumn. The morning fog had burnt off many hours earlier. Finally, he could see Phil approaching from the north, coming up the cross-range road. He was walking somewhat slow and painfully. When Phil was just a few yards away, Charlie broke the ice. “What’s up with the limp?”
“Hmmm,” Phil mumbled, not expecting small talk. “Been on the prosthetic way too much lately. Think I’m getting a rash. Hopefully that’s all it is…not cellulitis or something worse.” They went silent. “So, Lieutenant, huh?”
Charlie chuckled ironically. “Battlefield promotion, let’s say,” he joked.
“Interesting choice of words,” Phil countered softly.
“Yeah, except I’m not the one comparing this standoff to The Battle of the Bulge,” Charlie replied. “Yes, I’ve read a history book or two.”
“What’s happening here, Charlie? Why does the sheriff want to de-arm us so badly? We’re not the bad guys.”
“It’s not the sheriff, per se, Phil—it’s the system.”
“What does that even mean?” Phil asked, slightly annoyed. He was trying to keep his voice calm. “Systems don’t make decisions—people do.”
“It means that the leaders of the local government during this state of emergency have made a decision to disarm people who commit crimes. We have evidence that you’ve been at two shootouts in just the last few days. You all don’t have to like it—most of the cops don’t like it—but it’s the law.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, pal,” Phil said. “First off, laws are written and passed by legislators, not commissioners and directors. They write codes and regulations—”
“I know, Phil. Semantics and technicalities. We’ve had this discussion a dozen times. I already know what you think. Remember?”
“And secondly,” Phil continued a little more firmly, “any regulations, codes, or laws that are in disagreement with the superior forms of law above it are null and void! Those orders don’t have to be enforced.” They both paused for a bit. “Let me put it a different way. There are something over three thousand counties in the U.S., right?”
“Sure,” Charlie agreed.
“And the top law enforcement official in each and every one of those is the sheriff. He or she has the power to kick the Feds out, if he wants to! That’s what the Constitution’s Tenth Amendment gave us. ‘The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people’,” Phil quoted from memory. “The people, Charlie!”
“What’s your point, Phil?” You can get quite repetitive in your law sermons…
“That the sheriff can decide! It’s that easy! He is the chief peace officer for Slaughter County. Not that FEMA lady!”
“Except he’s more worried about his career than your rights,” Charlie said. “You know that. Besides, there’s a point here you’re not even considering.”
“What’s that?” Phil asked skeptically.
“Like the fact that the gangs are getting ready to run everything. Do you know that a huge cartel army hit Seattle last night?”
This caught Phil off guard. “Well, that I didn’t know. But I am keenly aware of what the gangs are up to. What happened in Seattle?”
“Hundreds, if not thousands, of cartel members wiped out an entire sector of police and Guard near the university,” Charlie explained. “You see—we can’t be wasting time like this, Phil.”
“Perspective, my friend. If what you say is true, you don’t need less armed citizens—you need more! Work with us, Charlie! You know how good the training here is. Find the good citizens in this county and deputize them! We’ll train them!” Phil could see Charlie’s wheels spinning. “Bring the sheriff in here. Let me talk to him.”
Too little, too late, Charlie thought. “Sheriff’s been relieved,” he finally said. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he felt peace would only hold if they were fully honest with each other.
Phil’s face turned red. “By whom?”
“The Unified Command just put the major from the Guard in charge. I don’t think he wants to push this, either, but I’m sure he’ll do it if I fail to talk you guys into giving up.”
“The Unified Command? Or her?” Phil asked angrily. Just then his phone vibrated, and he checked it.
[Brrrt—Shay: “They r here, will spread out @ signal”]
“Problems?” Charlie asked.
“Quite the opposite, my friend.” Phil sent a quick text to Craig Wageman just a couple of dozen yards away. “May I suggest we go into this log structure?” the old Marine said.
“Why?” Charlie asked very suspiciously. “What’s goin’ on, Phil?”
