Authors: Richard Stephenson
“Stop! I don’t want to hurt you! I’m telling you the truth! It happened just like I said!”
The man dropped to his knees and raised his arms to protect his head. “I’m sorry! Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! Don’t hurt me!”
“Stand up, come on, get up.” Richard let the bat fall to the ground. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Richard heard the telltale sound of a shotgun racking a shell into the chamber. He froze in place and slowly raised his bloody hands.
“Good thing you done dropped the bat. Try anything I’ll cut you in half. Got it?”
Richard knew better than to turn around and kept his hands up. “I know how this looks. This isn’t what you think. Can I turn around and talk to you?”
“No. You’re fine right where you are.”
“Look, you have to let me explain. This isn’t what it looks like.”
“It looks like a drifter rolled into town and trouble followed him.” A set of handcuffs were tossed. “Danny, you stupid fuck, why’d you come up here by yourself? Put those cuffs on him.”
“Shut up, Virgil! How was I supposed to know what happened? My boy said he saw a bum wanderin’ ‘round and I come up here to chase him off.”
“Whatever. Hey, drifter, get on your stomach and put your hands in the small of your back. Stand up, you die.”
“I’ll do whatever you say, just take it easy. Will I have a chance to explain myself?” Richard slowly went down to his knees and then lay on his stomach.
“Oh you’re gonna have plenty of time to explain things to the judge.”
Danny picked up the baseball bat and slammed it down hard on Richard’s buttocks. “Stay your nasty ass on the ground, you hear me?” Danny placed the handcuffs on Richard’s wrists.
Richard laughed. “Judge? You boys got a judge?”
Virgil kicked dirt in Richard’s face. “Damn right we got a judge. Five local towns in these parts formed a militia to protect ours. Been goin’ strong for a year now. Judge’ll be right proud we bagged us two vagrants before supper. Once he’s done with you you’ll actually do some honest work for a change. He puts bums like you to work. I hear they’re working on putting up walls around our fine cities to keep trash like you out.”
Richard spat dirt out of his mouth. “Two?”
“Ain’t you listenin’, drifter? I done said the militia’s protectin’ five towns, not two.”
“You said two vagrants.”
“Yeah, first one’s the reason I come up here. One of his hands all broke up. Said he and his friend were at the church prayin’ when a crazy lookin’ hobo come in all psycho. Said the guy up and stabbed the priest to death and slit his friend’s throat wide open. Said the guy smashed his hand so he couldn’t pray no more and let him go. Now I ain’t no detective but this all looks like everything he described. Watcha say, Danny? Sound about right?”
“Sure looks like it. But this one said pretty much the same thing about the dead guy over there. Said he was the one did the killin’.”
This is what I get for trying to do the right thing. Should have hauled ass out of here.
“The guy with the broken hand is lying his ass off.
I
was in the church with Father Elias and
they
came in looking for trouble. They killed the priest for no reason and wanted to kill me. I have every right to defend myself.”
“Save it for the judge, drifter, I don’t give a shit. Time to go, get up.”
***
While Richard had spent the previous four years in seclusion, he did, however, maintain constant surveillance of what was left of the former United States. Whenever he moved from one place to the other, he made it a point to observe, from a distance, the nearby towns along the way to better prepare himself should trouble follow him, which it often did. With the Pacific States of America and the Unified American Empire relics of the past thanks to the Chinese War, a nationwide or even statewide government could not be found anywhere. It was common to see fortified towns with armed patrols and secured gates monitoring entry. The once great nation had reverted to a vast collection of medieval castles.
In all his time wandering about, Richard had never seen anything close to a collection of scattered towns banding together to form a militia and pulling it off with any degree of success. Such an endeavor required an infrastructure and government of sorts, a small group of people telling a larger group of people what to do. Much like the nationwide government that had collapsed eleven years prior, any time two or more towns tried to band together, corruption and violence led to their downfall. Richard was both curious and terrified to see how these hillbillies managed to keep it together for a year.
“When’s the last time you washed your nasty ass or put on fresh clothes?” Virgil sat atop his horse pulling Richard along behind him by a rope.
“Don’t know, not planning on it anytime soon.”
“That’s disgusting, the fuck is wrong with you?”
“People tend to steer clear of you when you look like I do.”
“Folks might also be inclined to think you’s a crazy person goin’ ‘round killin’ people.”
“Folks like this judge of yours?”
“I ain’t gonna lie to you, drifter, things ain’t lookin’ to go your way.”
Richard was not delusional enough to think this “judge” would care to hear his side of the story. Once the bounty hunter produced the wanted poster to the judge and revealed Richard’s war criminal status, the chances of Richard regaining his freedom would be a challenge.
Time to start planning my escape.
“What happened with the guy with the broken hand? You find him or did he come to you?”
“Enough talkin’, crazy man. Shut up.”
“I just wanna know what lies he told you.”
“I said shut up! I ain’t your friend, you fuckin’ scumbag. One more word and this horse is gonna end up draggin’ your ass the rest of the way!”
Richard had endured all manner of physical abuse in his days but being dragged by a horse was not one of them so he took the warning seriously. The most crucial thing he could deduce at that point was that the bounty hunter had kept his identity a secret. The most likely reason was greed – he didn’t want to share the bounty with anyone unless it was absolutely necessary.
The two men walked for another thirty minutes and arrived at what used to be a large gas station. The pumps had long since been removed and the building had been fortified with iron bars and sandbags. Virgil dismounted his horse and leveled his shotgun at Richard’s chest.
“Get on inside. Walk slow and don’t do nothin’ stupid. Get within ten feet of me and you die. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Morgan! Get your ass out here, boy! Got us a prisoner!”
Richard slowly walked towards the entrance and was greeted by a stocky man in his late twenties. Richard had the amusing thought that they had arrived at a nightclub and this guy was the bouncer. Morgan eyed Richard. “You are one nasty lookin’ sumbitch. We gonna have any problems outta you, boy?”
“I’d like a room with a king sized bed and make sure the mini-bar is fully stocked. You take credit cards? I don’t have any cash on me. After I get settled in send your sister up to my room.”
Morgan laughed. “I like this guy! Where’d you find him?”
“Like you don’t know,” said Virgil.
“Come on, funny man, the penthouse suite is ready for you. I’m sure you’re gonna love it.” Morgan put a firm hand on Richard’s elbow and led him inside. All of the shelving and merchandise had been cleared out long ago to make room for desks and storage lockers. At the center of the main room where the cash registers had once been now resembled a judge’s bench from a courtroom. Richard counted six people walking around and was bothered that not one of them would look at him. It was as though they were deliberately ignoring him.
The walk-in freezer had been remodeled into an impressive holding cell. Richard was shoved inside. Morgan said, “Get some rest, funny man. Your friend there tried to bargain with the judge, wanted to split the reward money they got out on you fifty-fifty. Judge didn’t quite see it that way. Figured we could handle a war criminal ourselves and collect the bounty. What the hell’d you do?”
Richard said nothing.
“Fine, don’t say anything. I think it’s a load of shit, no way you was some big time general.” The door was slammed shut followed by the clicking of locks.
Richard turned and looked at his cellmate. The broken hand he had given the bounty hunter was now the least of his problems. The pool of blood under his head gave Richard serious doubts as to how he was going to escape. Suddenly his odds didn’t seem so good.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maxwell Harris was tired of funerals. Long ago he had given up on developing close relationships with new people. He’d grown to respect a handful of people he had met in the last ten years, but the number of people he truly valued as a close friend was in the single digits. Theodore Forrest had taken the top spot once occupied by Richard Dupree. When the traitor pissed on the memory of Howard Beck and ran off like a coward, Theodore Forrest insisted on being the one to hunt Dupree to the ends of the earth and bring him back to answer for his crimes.
What pained Max the most was that he was now presiding over the second funeral of his dear friend. When Dupree wiped out Theo’s squad over a year ago and his dear friend was presumed dead, Max had held a memorial service for the honored fallen. Now, for the second time, he had to stare out at the faces of the people that looked to him for strength and help them try to make sense of it all.
“I’m sorry. That’s about all that I come up with. It’s really the only thing that can sum up what I’m feeling. I made a mistake by telling all of you that Theo was gone.” Max couldn’t help but look into the eyes of Theo’s widow. “We’ve all spent the past year coping with this grief in our own way and now all of that is for nothing. We have no choice but to start the process again and for that I’m sorry. I should have done better. I shouldn’t have made an assumption about something as important as a man’s life.”
Max continued to look at Vanessa Forrest hoping to see a glimmer of anything. Forgiveness was nowhere on the list. He was holding out for acceptance or even understanding but her stern countenance didn’t falter.
She needs someone to blame and you’re the most qualified it seems. Give her time; she’ll get over it.
Max hung his head and looked to Theodore’s son to take his place at the podium so he could properly eulogize his father.
Max could feel that the widow Forrest had extended as much of her courtesy to his presence as she could muster so Max bowed out and quietly blended his way to the back of the crowd and stood next to his wife.
Elizabeth leaned in and whispered. “What was Theo doing out there?”
“Jesus, Elizabeth! Can we put the man in the ground first?”
“So when he’s in the ground you’ll stop lying to me and everyone? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this now.”
“Part of me hoped you’d finally come clean when you were at the podium just now, but I’m not surprised you decided to stick with the lying coward routine. It suits both of you.”
“Leave Theo out of this!” Everyone within ten feet of the arguing couple looked at them in disgust.
“Do you really think anyone believed the bullshit cover-up story you and Theo dreamed up? Out of nowhere you decide to send Theo on a diplomatic assignment to Florida and on his way back his entire delegation gets ambushed and murdered by outlaws?”
“Richard Dupree is alive.”
Elizabeth Harris had been lied to for over a year and no matter what, her husband had always stuck to the same lie. No matter how many holes she punched in his bullshit story he never wavered from the diplomatic fantasy he and Theo dreamed up. For one of the first times in her marriage, her husband had left her speechless. No witty comeback, no opinion to share, only stunned silence.
Max felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this level of peace. More surprising, he actually smiled. “Theo was surprised I hadn’t told you.”
Elizabeth was overcome with a torrent of emotions. She felt joy for crossing the chasm separating her from her husband. She understood her husband’s deceit came from a place of love and protection. Her fury and hatred for Richard Dupree would have led to her demise long ago if she knew the truth. Had she known Theo’s true mission, nothing would have stopped her from leaving with him to hunt down the traitor. Her husband’s declining physical state prevented him from sprinting more than ten yards so Dupree was well outside his grasp. Maxwell knew the truth would take her from him so the only way to keep her safely by his side was to lie to her.
Elizabeth reached down and squeezed her husband’s hand. At her touch tears welled up in his eyes. “Please don’t leave, Elizabeth. Trust that I have a plan. We’ve sacrificed too much and we’re very close to catching him.”
“How many?”
“He’s killed forty-seven of our people. No telling how many more that got in his way.”
“Are you counting Hal?”
“Of course I’m counting Hal. He’s at the top of the list. Theo’s the most recent addition.”
“All this time I thought when he destroyed Hal that son of a bitch died along with him.”
Max paused and contemplated if it was time for the whole truth. He figured the bombshell he just dropped would take time to process. He would tell her everything soon enough. However, as always, his wife could read him like a book. “Max? What is it, sweetheart?”
Max looked into his wife’s beautiful blue eyes and smiled. “Now is not the time, my dear. We need to say goodbye to our friend. This day is about him, not Richard Dupree.”
Elizabeth Harris felt a renewed sense of trust in her husband and kissed his cheek.
***
After the funeral Elizabeth returned home to prepare dinner. Max still had a job to do. The day-to-day operations of a secured compound never ceased, not even for a funeral. The command center was operated out of two shipping containers laid side by side with doors cut into the walls to connect the two structures. Solar panels lined the top of the command center. Secured to the side of the command center stood a hundred foot antenna for a shortwave radio.