Desperate Times Three - Revolution (19 page)

“Spit it out,” ordered Ken. “Or you could die, you idiot!”

Bill now had his hands around his own throat as if he were choking. “I’m sorry, I made the sandwich,” he lisped. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I learned my lesson!”

Pops nodded his head and tossed Bill the bottle. Bill guzzled it down as fast as he could pour it into his mouth. When it was empty he looked relieved, but only for a second.

“Get him up to the house,” Pops said, pointing at Jimmy. “Get him some ice cubes. Go on now, the both of you.”

Jimmy followed Bill up to the house, barely able to keep up with him. He was angry at both Pops and Bill. They should be loading up and heading away from here. They were grown men acting like little boys, and that bothered him even though he knew all men acted that way at different times. They just weren’t supposed to do it together. That was how wars got started and that was the last thing they needed.

Five minutes and half a dozen ice cubes later, Jimmy heard the distinct sound of an approaching four-wheeler. He walked to the kitchen window and peered outside. Julie, Ken, and Pops were each on their own machine, and each was pulling a small, rugged-looking trailer. They putted across the lawn and pulled up outside the door where their supplies were stashed.

“That was stupid, Bill,” Jimmy said. “Why the hell did you lie about something so stupid?”

Ten minutes later, their small group pulled away from the house on six weathered Arctic Cat ATVs. There was a deep chill in the air, and thankfully Pops had outfitted them all with winter jackets, hats, and gloves. Jimmy smoked as he rode, following Julie, who rode behind Dunn and Ken. Jimmy couldn’t be sure, but Dunn seemed to be somewhat out of his funk. He hoped so.

They wound up and over hills, across creeks, through tangled woods and swampy bogs. Pops led them slowly down the rutted trail, speeding up when conditions allowed. Bouncing beams of headlamps pierced the blackness where not even a single star was visible in the night sky. Jimmy hated to admit it to himself, but on some level he was enjoying this. Something had been lost when civilization had returned to normal; he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. As bad as things were up at Ken’s place, there was something magical about the time they had spent there. Once again, Jimmy looked over his shoulder and was happy to see that no one was following them.

The ride would take the better part of an hour.

“Hope is a waking dream.” ~ Aristotle

The
cabin
, as Pops had called it; looked more like a giant fort that teenagers had built, at least to Jimmy it did. There were two floors, and the bottom looked like it had been added to, many times over. The front of the shack had been sided with an ancient garage door. “I know she don’t look like much from the outside,” Pops said, waving them inside with his flashlight. “But we’ll be plenty comfortable.”

Jimmy followed the others inside and was thunderstruck at what he saw. Pops walked across the carpet floor and flipped a switch, bathing the room in yellow light.

“Wow,” said Ken, nodding his head in approval. “This is really nice.”

“I built her myself,” Pops said, with obvious pride. “I’ve been working on it for almost forty years.”

The walls were carefully paneled, and the ceiling had been done in knotty pine. Pops leaned over a wall-mounted furnace, and a moment later the front of the unit began to glow with orange flames. He didn’t stop there. He opened a cabinet, and the sounds of old country music began to play softly from unseen speakers. The main room was roughly twenty by thirty, with an eight-foot ceiling. Dated sofas lined two walls; alongside them were mismatched recliners and end tables. The kitchen area was complete with a counter and sink. Pops had installed steel kitchen cabinets that looked nearly as old as he did. A dining room table with two long benches sat just outside the kitchen area. Jimmy joined Julie at the wall. She was studying one of the many framed photographs that hung on the walls. “This must be your wife,” Julie said, pointing to the picture. “She was a beautiful woman.”

“Damn right she was,” said Pops, pulling a brown bottle down from the top shelf of a cabinet. “She was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He twisted the cap off the bottle and raised it to his lips. “Medicinal purposes,” he said, just before taking a substantial swig. He swallowed, grimaced, and shook his head. Without offering the bottle to anyone else, he replaced the cap and returned the bottle to the shelf. “I think we better sleep in shifts. We got two bedrooms, one up and one down. They ain’t much, but each room has a set of bunk beds, and we got plenty of sleeping bags.”

“You guys go ahead,” said Ken. “Jimmy and I will take the first watch.”

“I figured you were gonna say that,” Pops said, nodding his head. “That’s fine with me. Old coots like me need our sleep; that’s how we get to be this age. Look, we shouldn’t have to worry much until it gets light out. I’m not sure what time they’ll get here, but you can bet they’ll be here before lunch.”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Julie, pulling her hair back behind her ears.

“I’m not sure. That’s the crux of the damn biscuit. Could be they’ll send in the local authorities and that would be great. We give ourselves up and take our chances with the system. It’s also possible that the CIA will send in a team of its own.” Pops looked at the floor and scratched his chin. “That wouldn’t be so good.”

“We’ve been in a few scraps,” Jimmy said, clenching his fist in the air. “Bring ‘em on.”

Pops laughed amusedly. “We’d probably never hear them coming. These guys are pros. Killing people is what they do.”

“But, why?” Ken asked, standing up from the bench he sat on. “What the hell did we do to anyone?”

“They’re afraid of you,” Pops said. “I don’t watch no television, it got to where I couldn’t believe a word that was coming out of people’s mouths, but I surf the internet every now and then. The way I see it, you touched a pretty big nerve and threatened their way of life. These guys don’t mess around, if they see a threat, they eliminate it. They don’t want a revolution, they like things just the way they are.”

“I wasn’t calling for a revolution.”

“Huh,” grunted Pops. “Is that right?”

“Well, what if I was? What the hell is wrong with voting these bums out of office and starting with a clean slate? If you want to call that a revolution, then yeah, go right ahead.”

Pops stared at Ken for a long moment, as if he were trying to read his mind. “You’re preaching to the choir, son. Just remember how much money was spent to get those bastards elected. Think about it. You’re stepping on a lot of toes.”

“I don’t give a shit,” said Ken, and Jimmy knew that was true. “Somebody needs to shake things up in this country. It might as well be me. I’m just sick of the bullshit, Pops, that’s all.”

“I think most of us are,” Pops said, waving at the group. “You ladies follow me. You can sleep upstairs. It should be warm up there by now, and the beds up there are pretty decent. Bill, why don’t you see if you can get that young fella into the bottom bunk in there,” he said, pointing to a plywood door.

Surprising them all, Dunn got to his feet and headed to the door. He walked as if he were still learning how, holding his arms out for balance.

Bill yawned and stretched. “You don’t have to ask me twice. I suppose you want me in the top bunk.”

Pops nodded his head and waved Bill away as if he were a mosquito. “C’mon, bright eyes,” he said to Julie. “Let me show you to your bedroom.”

They spent the night like expectant fathers, pacing the floor, lost in their own thoughts. The room was warm and Pops had shut off the lights and lit a candle before turning in. The candlelight brought back memories of Jimmy’s time at the lake house. Three distinct snores rumbled in the next room, and Jimmy wondered how any of them could sleep. Ken, carrying a Remington semiautomatic shotgun, stared out into the blackness for long periods of time. Jimmy wasn’t quite sure of what to say to him. Patty was strictly off limits; Ken had made that abundantly clear. He had become withdrawn, and Jimmy thought it was best not to engage him. Ken would talk when he was good and ready.

The next two hours passed slowly as the snoring continued. Jimmy commandeered a bag of trail mix and munched on that, sipping from a plastic bottle of water. Outside the shack, black had warmed to gray.

“I should have stayed up at the house,” Ken said, finally. “I shouldn’t have dragged you all into this.”

“What the hell are you talking about? We’re already a part of this and we support you. Quit talking like that.”

“I’m tired of all of this running. I just can’t do it anymore. All I want is to see my wife, can’t you understand that? I can’t run for president, who the hell were we kidding?”

“You can’t talk like that. Besides, if they would’ve found you at the house, you’d be a dead man. You wouldn’t be able to help Patty or any of us.”

Ken seemed to think about this for a minute and nodded. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “I’m not going to be able to sleep. Why don’t you curl up on the couch?”

Jimmy was tired, dog-tired. He looked over at the couch and the throw-blanket that covered it. “Maybe just for an hour,” Jimmy said, standing up from the table. He picked up his shotgun and walked to the sofa. “Don’t get any stupid ideas, and don’t let me sleep past eight. You’re going to need a nap, yourself.” He pulled back the blanket and stretched out on the couch. Jimmy closed his eyes, and sleep took him a moment later.

“Jimmy, wake up!” Julie hissed. “Ken is missing. Do you know where he is?”

Jimmy fought through the fog and was suddenly wide awake. “Missing?” he asked. “He was here just a minute ago.”

“I’ve been sitting out here for an hour,” said Julie. “You were out cold. Ken left on one of the four-wheelers while we were sleeping. Pops is out looking for him. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Oh, shit,” said Jimmy, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d take off on his own.”

“You didn’t think,” Julie said, shaking her head in disgust. “You always say that. That doesn’t cut it this time. If you were tired, you should’ve came and got me. I would have sat with him.”

Jimmy had heard enough. He put on one of the camouflage hunting jackets and began to fill the pockets with ammunition. He slung a .308 Marlin over his shoulder and stepped out into the sunlight.

“Jimmy, wait,” Julie called from inside. “I’m coming with you.”

“No!” shouted Jimmy. “Leave me alone!”

“Fine then, go ahead. This is all your fault.”

Jimmy took a deep breath, slung the Marlin over his shoulder and jogged to the nearest of the ATVs. He flipped the latch and disconnected the small trailer, sat down on the seat and thumbed the ignition. Julie was now standing at the door to the cabin, scowling, arms crossed at her chest. Jimmy groaned. After a clumsy three-point turn, he was finally heading back up the trail.

The morning air was already tinged with humidity, and the sun had nearly burned through the thin clouds above. Jimmy pushed the ATV to its limits, roaring up the trail, ducking limbs and splashing across the lowlands. He was angry—angry at Ken for leaving, angry at Julie for the way she had accused him of being derelict of his duties. Mostly, he was angry with himself because he knew that Julie was right. This was on his head.

The trail seemed to go on forever, twisting around trees and across empty fields and through bogs where the trail was so rough that it rattled Jimmy’s teeth. At long last, Jimmy spotted the roof of the old barn through the trees. He cracked the throttle and flew around the sweeping bend and suddenly emerged into the open. Jimmy’s heart sank.

Pops was seated on top of a picnic table on the back lawn, and two ATVs sat on the lawn. There was no sign of Ken. Even from a hundred feet away, Jimmy could see the anguish in the old man’s expression. Jimmy cut back on the throttle and coasted to a stop ten feet from the table. He swallowed hard as he could see the tears in Pops’ eyes.

“They killed my friend,” Pops said, putting his face in his hands. “And his new wife, too. They threw them out the goddamn window. How could they do that? He never hurt anyone in his life.”

Jimmy looked up at the sky and prayed for the right words to come to him.

“And you knew,” Pops suddenly hissed. “Didn’t you?”

Jimmy thought about lying; he wanted to lie more than anything in the world, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. “Jacobs and Dunn told us not to talk about the outside world,” he said. “They were very clear about that.”

“Oh, that makes things better, doesn’t it?”

Jimmy sat where he was on the ATV, wanting to be anywhere but here. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Everything happened so fast. I thought Dunn or Jacobs would tell you about what happened,” he paused and watched Pops circle the table, helplessly. “Have you seen Ken?” he asked. “Have you checked inside the house?”

Pops turned on a dime and pointed at the envelope. “Do you want to know how you give someone bad news, Jimmy? You give it to them straight up. Go on, open that envelope. Everything you need to know is in there.”

Jimmy felt his muscles go limp as he pried himself off of the seat of the muddy four-wheeler. He looked took three steps and noticed that the envelope was flecked with blood. He looked to Pops, but he was already walking up towards the house. Sweat dripped down the bridge of Jimmy’s nose and butterflies filled his stomach as he sat down on the wooden bench. He looked at the envelope and at the angry red stain in the middle of it. Jimmy took a deep breath and picked it up in his left hand, he pinched together the tiny steel clasps and opened the flap. He then pulled out the two sheets of paper that were inside, and out tumbled a severed finger.

Jimmy gasped and nearly leapt from the table. The bloody finger still wore a wedding band and recognized it immediately. The finger was Ken’s.

He turned to see Pops staring back at him from the back door of the house, his head hanging miserably low, his gnarled hands stuffed in his pockets. He turned and shuffled inside the house. Jimmy looked back at the table and retched. After a long, miserable moment, Jimmy carefully picked up the blood-splattered papers and read.

He reread the letter and read it again. He lit up a cigarette and sat down on the green grass. There would be no presidential bid, not anymore. The letter had been very specific about that. They, whoever
they
were, would hold Ken until the day after the election. If anyone breathed a word of Ken’s abduction to the press or the authorities, they
promised to deliver his head on a stick. The finger was to show proof that they meant business.

At the very bottom of the page, there was a short line of black ink that sent a cold chill down Jimmy’s spine.

The line read:
Sincerely, your old friend, Mars.

Rage filled Jimmy like never before as he read the second letter, which informed Pops of Thrill and Katie’s untimely demise. The facts were spelled out with cold precision, and Jimmy had no doubt who had penned them.

Somehow, he had thought that Mars had died out in the Northwoods, that he’d been swallowed whole along with the others who had suddenly vanished without any trace. Jimmy got to his feet and stood at the table. Steeling himself from within, he picked up his friend’s finger and slipped the ring free. He placed the finger in the envelope and walked to the barn. A moment later he emerged with a shovel and walked out back and dug a two-foot hole in the soft earth. He said a quick prayer and buried the finger.

Returning to the table, Jimmy retrieved the papers, folded them up and slid them into the back pocket of his blue jeans. He saw a flash of light out of the corner of his eye and saw Pops emerge from the house. Jimmy sat down and tried to collect his thoughts as the old man made his way down to join him.