The Death: The Complete Trilogy Page 21

  “I think you need to leave!” Devin yelled.

  “I’m here to talk with Daryl.”

  “Where’s his son?” Devin asked.

  “That’s why I’m here. I need to make him a deal,” Rivers said as he slowly walked down the drive.

  “I suggest you stop right there,” Devin informed him.

  Rivers did as he said, stopping six inches from a trip wire that spanned the driveway.

  “I have to hand it to Daryl and the rest of you, very innovative. I’m impressed. How can a small group come into my town and pull off what you did the other night. I mean, that was spectacular, truly.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’ll discuss that with Daryl. Have him come out.”

  “Where’s Hudson?”

  “Is Daryl not here?”

  “Don’t think about trying anything,” Devin warned.

  Rivers took another step and stopped not an inch shy of the trip wire. He looked down, smiled, and put his hard gaze back on Devin. “Devin, right? Listen, if I was coming here to have a fight with you, I wouldn’t have wasted my time talking to you, I just would’ve attacked you. I have Hudson, but I want something in return for him.”

  Devin was unclear how to proceed. It was obvious that Daryl wasn’t there, but he also believed Rivers when he told him he didn’t come to fight. He wanted something from Daryl, and he couldn’t imagine what that was.

  “I’ll tell you what, I’ll just wait for him to return,” Rivers smugly said.

  Devin searched for the correct words but couldn’t find them. He had glimpses of saying the right thing, but when he’d ready himself, he doubted the impact they’d have.

  Rivers’ head craned when the distinct engine sound of a Humvee came into earshot.

  Devin breathed a sigh of relief.

  Daryl had received Tess’s communication and immediately made for the farm. He pulled up behind the last vehicle but within a safe distance and jumped out.

  By his body language, Devin could see the anger in him.

  Men in Rivers’ vehicles poured out, guns at the ready, and encircled Rivers.

  Daryl, unafraid of the display of force, marched up as close as he could get and yelled, “Where’s Hudson?”

  “Mr. Jenks, so glad to see you.”

  “Where is he, you piece of shit!”

  “I can tell you with certainty that I know where he is and that he’s quite safe.”

  “Give me my boy back!” Daryl screamed his face red with anger.

  Brianna stepped out of the Humvee; a pistol tucked in her waistband, and walked up beside Daryl, her eyes keeping track of the men’s movements.

  Devin was also monitoring their moves, with anticipation that things could easily get out of control.

  “Daryl, I’m here to strike a deal with you. I have something you want, and you have something I want.”

  Hearing this, Daryl calmed himself; he’d do anything and give anything for Hudson, so now he was all ears.

  “What do you want?”

  “I need to speak in private. Can we do that?” Rivers said.

  Not sure about the request but without much leverage, he agreed, “Sure.”

  Both men walked off some forty feet down the road.

  “I have to hand it to you and your group, Daryl. It truly was amazing what you four were able to do against my men.”

  “Just get to the point.”

  “I know what you have in your barn; I need it.”

  Daryl scrunched his eyebrows upon hearing Rivers’ request.

  “I also need you.”

  “Where do you need to go?”

  “Out of here and soon,” Rivers answered, a fear now came over him.

  “Why, what is it?”

  “I’m nothing in comparison to what’s coming; one of my scouting parties ran into the main force from Turner’s Raiders just south of Lovington.”

  “So that’s it, you’ll give me Hudson back in exchange…”

  “Yes, that simple.”

  “Why now?”

  Rivers looked at him and said, “My team circled around them and went into Lovington or what’s left of it. They found the town ransacked and a pile of corpses in the town square.”

  Daryl wasn’t completely surprised to hear this, the rumors were well known of how vicious Turner’s Raiders were, and after dealing with their own scout team, he knew it was a matter of when not if they’d arrive in Reed. What did surprise him was Rivers’ fear. Did he know something and wasn’t sharing?

  “Stop the bullshit. Why do you want to leave in such a hurry now?” Daryl pressed.

  “Does it matter? I have your son; you have what I need. Do we have a deal?” Rivers said, his voice rising.

  Rivers held the cards, and if Daryl wanted Hudson, he had to make the deal. With the reality of the situation clear, he answered, “It’s a deal. When do I get my boy?”

  “This afternoon, I’ll bring him. Make sure you’re ready,” Rivers said and walked away.

  Rivers and his men drove off in a cloud of dust.

  Devin watched as they sped away, then turned his attention to Daryl, who was walking back towards the house.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Devin asked.

  Tess appeared from the house and also asked, “What did he want?"

  Daryl didn’t stop to answer. He briskly walked by them and down along the side of the house towards the barn.

  Devin chased after him. “What’s going on?”

  “I made him a deal to get Hudson back.”

  “What sort of deal?”

  Daryl input a four-digit code into the lock at the barn’s front door, the lock turned green, he turned a knob on the lock, and removed it. He pushed the large, twelve-foot-high metal doors wide open. The bright late morning sun splashed inside, but it was still too dark to see.

  “We were just talking about your man cave today and what you’re hiding in here,” Devin said. He blinked several times to adjust his vision.

  With a flick of a switch, Daryl turned on a generator, and large overhead lights came to life, illuminating the vast space and chasing away the darkness.

  “This is the deal,” Daryl said, pointing to a small single-engine plane.

  “He wants your plane?”

  “Yes, and me to pilot it.”

  “Where does he want to go?”

  “Right now, I don’t give a damn. If he brings my son back to me, I’ll take him anywhere.”

  “But how far can you get in that thing? It’s a crop duster.”

  “This bird isn’t just any crop duster; she’s an AT-802. She’s a fine piece of equipment. I flew something similar when I was in the Army.”

  “The Army has crop dusters?” Devin asked. He was walking around the bright yellow airplane, admiring how clean it was for being in such a dusty barn.

  “No crop dusters but they have an armed surveillance variant that we flew down in South America for drug interdiction missions.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Devin said.

  Daryl walked up and ran his hand along the side, as if he was petting it, and said, “She’s that, for sure.”

  Tess walked in, surprising them.

  “You have a plane?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I never knew you were a pilot,” Tess said, her eyes glued to the plane.

  “No one ever asked me.”

  “What’s the range on this?” Tess asked.

  “About 800 miles,” Daryl answered.

  Tess had a sparkle in her eyes as her mind ran with an idea. “It’s a two-seater?”

  “Yep, tandem seating.”

  “What are you thinking? I can hear the gears in your mind creaking,” Devin said.

  “You know exactly what I’m thinking,” she shot back at Devin.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, it’ll have to wait. I’ve got to get her ready to go.”

  “You’re going somewhere for the mayor?” she asked.

/>   “I made a deal; I take him where he wants to go in exchange for my son.”

  “That’s it? I don’t understand. Why make a deal now?”

  Daryl stopped his prepping and looked at Devin and Tess. “I’ll make you two a deal as well. While I’m gone, watch over Hudson, and in return I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

  “You don’t—” Devin began to say but was cut off.

  “Deal,” Tess blurted out.

  “Listen, I’ll need some help getting her ready. You guys want to…?”

  “Just tell us what to do,” Tess answered enthusiastically.

  Denver International Airport

  One perk, if you could call it that, of her situation was having a personal chef there ready to prepare whatever she desired. While she enjoyed it, she missed socializing and seeing people. When lunchtime came around, she chose to pass on eating in Horton’s residence and instead visited the cafeteria.

  With a tray in her hand, she exited the line and looked out on the dining hall. Shockingly it was half full; she had never seen so few people there.

  She walked over to the first table she saw and set her tray down. She pulled out the orange plastic chair and went to sit down when her eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar face.

  Needing to talk to someone other than Horton or her team, she grabbed her tray and walked over to see Travis, who was sitting alone, his head hung somberly.

  “Captain, good afternoon,” she said.

  “Hi,” he answered. His response wasn’t what she had expected. He was always such a jovial person before that seeing him clearly sad was a shocker.

  “Is this a bad time?” she asked.

  “No, not at all, please join me,” he said, pointing to the seat across from him.

  “Thank you.”

  He lowered his head and picked at his food.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but is everything all right?”

  He looked up and said, “To be candid, no, it’s not all right.”

  “Do you want to share?”

  “Just a day in the life of a Marine, you could say.”

  “And how would you describe that day?”

  “A Marine’s life, specifically that of a grunt, can be full of boring, uneventful moments, but when all hell breaks loose, those brief seconds or minutes affect your entire life.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “Where have you been, under a rock?” Travis asked.

  “What happened?” Lori asked, genuinely concerned for him.

  Travis lifted his shirt; a large white gauze bandage was wrapped tightly around his stomach. “I’m convalescing till I can go back into the fight.”

  “Were you shot?”

  “You really don’t know what happened, do you?”

  She then remembered him mentioning something about deploying to Camp Sierra, but that wasn’t for a week or more. However, she had been disconnected from everything, having been sequestered in her room, then Horton’s residence, afraid to venture out.

  “Tell me, is everything okay. Are we in danger?”

  “We’re safe here, but there was a major Scrap offensive on several FEMA camps.”

  Lori’s throat tightened upon hearing the news.

  “Is everyone okay?” she asked. Her voice had risen several octaves, garnering attention from nearby tables.

  “It’s so strange; the attacks by Scraps in the past don’t normally result in the killing of civilians. They primarily target government assets and us, the military.”

  “Why am I always the last person to know anything? What was the outcome?”

  “It was a massacre; the Scraps hit the camps with an overwhelming force. When we landed, most of the fighting was over. A few Scraps remained, and they fought fiercely, different than before. It was like they weren’t the same; something had changed.”

  Lori felt faint as the color drained from her face.

  “It was horrible; they had just killed everyone. I led a platoon into a medical tent, and that’s where I got my little present,” he said, referring to his wound. “Luckily for me the shot went right through, didn’t hit anything major. But it was a bloody mess.”

  “Will you be okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine, just pulled off duty till I heal up. I’m just bummed to be away from my men.”

  “Which camps, not Sierra, right?” she asked, suddenly realizing that Camp Sierra could be designated as a FEMA camp.

  “No, Sierra is fine. Camp 7 and Camp 11, both in region eight.”

  “This might be a dumb question, but how come we don’t call places by their names anymore. Like these camps aren’t in states but regions?”

  “Never thought about it, but that’s how they’ve divided up the country. Actually come to think about it, the maps I’ve seen divide it beyond that. In the US they’re called FEMA, but there are similar camps like the one you were in stretching from Alaska down to Panama.”

  “That makes sense; each country is providing relief, and setting up camps seems standard.”

  “No, it’s that the maps don’t reference traditional borders, it shows all of North America and all of it divided into regions like it was under control of one single entity.”

  “Really, I’d like to see that.”

  “Sure, I’ll bring one next time.”

  Lori pondered his comment and asked, “Does it show cities, other designations like that?”

  “Yeah, it shows us here, they call it DIA; then beyond that each region has a city marked, that city houses the relief headquarters for that region.”

  “Does it show Arcadia?”

  “Come to think of it, it does. It’s marked with a star.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange?”

  “What’s that?”

  “All of this, it’s like we’re not Americans anymore. In fact, I haven’t seen an American flag anywhere since arriving here and saw one for a short time at Camp 13, but it was taken down shortly after we arrived. I never thought much of it, but aren’t you and the others here part of the United States government?”

  “Last time I checked, I’m still a US Marine.”

  Lori had already made up her mind that something was amiss; however, she didn’t have anyone to commiserate with. She knew there wasn’t much she could do about whatever grand conspiracy was at play, she just needed to talk about it; that alone would provide her some comfort. A strong temptation hit her to spill everything she had seen and even been told, but it was a risk. Travis was a Marine, and his loyalties would no doubt be to his superiors.

  She looked at her watch and said, “Look at what time it is. I need to get going, work, work, work.”

  “Thanks for visiting, haven’t seen you lately.”

  She stood, tray in hand, and looked down at him. “Just busy. You get well.”

  “Hey, if you get a chance, stop by and grab a drink.”

  “I told you…”

  “I know, but it’s not like that. I have a fiancée I love dearly. She’s out there somewhere, and my CO told me I’ll be able to go find her this summer unless she finds her way here first.”

  Being the ever curious person, what he just mentioned piqued her interest. “How will she find her way here? You leave a note or something?”

  “Exactly.”

  She smiled at him and said, “I hope your fiancée finds her way here.”

  “So join me for a drink.”

  “I don’t drink, but maybe I’ll join you for a water or juice some night.”

  “That’ll be fine. It’s more about the company. Hanging out with jarheads twenty-four seven can be too much, even for a hard charger like myself.”

  She again looked at her watch and said, “Now I’m late. Take care of yourself, hard charger.”

  “See you around.”

  Lori strutted off, happy she had defied Horton and come to the cafeteria. It was refreshing, if that was a good word to use, to get outside of her current reality, if even for a
moment. Coming today was also a test to see how closely Horton monitored her movements. Regardless of the rationale behind it, it was a small way for her to rebel against Horton’s tyrannical control.

  Jenks Residence, Reed, Illinois

  Devin and Tess had been so consumed since their arrival at Daryl’s house that they had never gone farther back onto his property, past one field of corn, to see the runway.

  Daryl owned and operated a crop-dusting business before The Death came, and had been one out of two others in the region who performed this type of work. It had been a family business, one he inherited from his father and took to greater success following his stint in the Army. His time in service came at some personal cost because his father didn’t believe in what he described as ‘the endless wars’ being waged in the Middle East. Armed with only a partial education but a pilot’s license, Daryl applied for the warrant officer’s program and got it. During his eight years in the Army, he spent it deployed once to Syria and once to South America. The United States had become embroiled in operating anti-cartel operations in Colombia. His expertise flying similar aircraft gave him an upper hand in training and conducting his missions there.

  Once The Death came, Daryl parked the plane and hadn’t flown it since. He had thought about flying his family out of there, but, Why? he would ask himself. They had everything they needed and, up until recently, had found their post-Death life relatively secure. Bugging out must always be considered, but when your home is as safe or safer than most, and it’s stockpiled, it’s hard to walk away. With everything that had happened, leaving had now crossed his mind more than once, and with Mayor Rivers abandoning the area for presumably safer places, it struck him again that it just might have to happen.

  The plane had been prepped, tested, fueled and taxied out to the runway. Now all he needed from Rivers was the destination. He hoped it was within the range of the AT-802, which was 800 miles, but wherever it was, he’d figure out how to make it happen. Getting fuel outside of his home base could prove to be almost impossible. If the tanks were housed in the ground, like most FBOs had them, getting the fuel pumped out would be nearly impossible with no power. He had some ideas, but none of them were ideal. Having only the power of prayer, he closed his eyes and asked God to make sure the flight was close so he could return on a single tank.