Redemption (9 page)

If Richard had acquired more intel on these people he would try more drastic means to draw them into opening the cell door.  Trying to break down the door or screaming like a madman might lead to a broken arm or a busted kneecap for his trouble and he needed to be whole for whatever came next.  For now, his plan was to stay quiet and observe.

Footsteps could be heard in front of the cell.  Someone kicked on the door.  “Listen up, General!  Step to the back of the cell.  When the door opens you’ll be lookin’ at the business end of a shotgun.  Do something stupid and your foot gets blown off!”

Richard grinned.  “Virgil?  Is that you?  Now it’s just my foot?  Appreciate that.  We friends now?”

“Shut the fuck up and get your ass in back of the cell, General.”

“You got it, amigo.”  Richard stepped to the back of the cell.

Richard could hear locks and clasps clicking and finally the door opened.  “Damn, General, a rottin’ corpse in there with ya’ and I’m pretty sure that’s you I’m still smelling.”

“Let me go and you won’t have to smell me.”

“You’re way too valuable to let go.  Gonna make some serious coin for your nasty ass.”

“You’re selling me into slavery?  That’s not very civilized.”

“Knock that shit off.  You know what’s going on.”

“Not really, no idea what I’m doing here.”

“Well, General Dupree, you can tell it to the judge, he’s ready to see you.”

***

The Honorable Timothy Willock loved his job.  He had never been to law school or worked a single day in the legal profession prior to his appointment to the bench.  The best he could figure he possessed two qualities that got him to his current station in life – he was over the age of fifty and had a college degree.  Timothy believed this rare pedigree could not be found anywhere in a twenty mile radius, maybe a hundred.

Judge Willock never had an issue with self-esteem; he was a confident man that had always been well liked.  However, the god-like respect everyone showered on him was intoxicating.  He lived for it.  Since re-election had never been mentioned to him and no one else showed interest, he assumed it was a lifetime appointment.  That suited him just fine.  If old age or illness confined him to his bed, he would hold court in his bedroom.

Today’s docket was particularly interesting.  An infamous war criminal had been captured in his jurisdiction.  When he read the wanted poster the bounty hunter all but thrust in his face he could hardly contain his excitement.  This idiot had a badly broken hand and had the audacity to make demands. 

“Your honor, I’m here on authority of Denver to bring this fugitive to justice.  I’ve been granted full authority by Maxwell Harris himself to place General Dupree in custody and transport him to Denver.”

Judge Willock mocked surprise.  “Virgil!  You hear that?”

Virgil was seated next to him reading the wanted poster.  He was happy to play along.  “Yes, sir, your honor.  This guy’s big shit, we better listen.”

“Damn right, Virgil.  Maxwell Harris himself!  Wow!  What should we do, Virgil?”

“Not really sure, Judge.  Hey, by the way, where is Denver?”

Judge Willock bellowed out in laughter.  “Oh, best I can figure, a long fuckin’ way from here!”

The bounty hunter panicked.  “Now look here, Judge, we can work this out.  You need me; I know everything we gotta do.  I can handle this whole thing for you, split it right down the middle.”

“Virgil, we need him?”

“No, sir, Judge.  I think we got this covered.”

“Sorry, Virgil says we don’t need you.”  Judge Willock looked at Virgil and cocked his eyes towards the bounty hunter.  “You need someone with a broke up hand?”

“Shit no.”

“Well, we can’t have him makin’ trouble for us and we can’t have people come lookin’ for him neither.  See to that.”

“Yes sir.”

Judge Willock barely heard the bounty hunter’s sobs as Virgil took him away.  He couldn’t take his eyes off the wanted poster.  A hundred pounds of silver would go a long way to build his militia. 

***

“General Dupree, at last we meet.”

“Where’s my lawyer?”

Judge Willock was genuinely amused.  “Virgil, you were right.  This guy is something else.”

Richard was on his knees with two sets of handcuffs securing his hands behind his back.  Virgil was standing over him with a baseball bat.  “Yes sir, your honor.”

The judge peered over his glasses with condescension.  “This is not the old world, General.  I am your lawyer.  My word is law.  I don’t need pesky windbags in here wasting my time.  Are we clear?”

“Not really.”

The judge scowled.  Virgil knew what to do when the judge didn’t look happy.  He grabbed Dupree’s long greasy hair and jerked his head back.  “Mind your manners.”

The judge continued, “General Richard Dupree, you stand accused of a very lengthy list of crimes: espionage, treason, escape, grand theft, and multiple counts of murder.  You have anything to say?”

“Sure I do.  You got the wrong guy, I’m innocent.”

“Of course you are.  Need I remind you, sir, the murder of Father Elias has been added to the list?”

“I already told Virgil here I tried to save Father Elias.  The dead body in my cell is the one killed the priest.”

“General, you are the reason the priest is dead.  You must know that.  I went to high school with Nathan.  He was the last good man in these parts and he’d still be alive if not for you.  Run your smart ass mouth to the contrary and you’ll be spitting teeth.”

Richard knew the judge was right.  He wished he’d have never set foot in the church.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry about the priest.”

“You should be.  Let’s cut to the chase.  I find you guilty.”

Richard had no illusions that he would be given anything resembling a fair trial.  “What happens now?”

“I’ve contacted one of Denver’s allies.  They will be taking custody and transporting you to Denver.”

“After you’ve been paid off.”

“Quite handsomely.  Thank you.”

“Let me guess, Benjamin Black?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.  Friend of yours?”

“Me and Ben go way back.”

“Well, General, I’m glad I could arrange your reunion.  You’ll be leaving with Virgil here within the hour.  Rot in hell.  Goodbye.”  Judge Willock banged his gavel.  Virgil grabbed Richard by the hair and pulled him to his feet.

“Let’s go fuckhead.  Gotta get you ready.”

Richard was led down the hallway behind the judge’s bench to the area in front of his cell.  Virgil pushed him into a folding chair and picked up a pitcher of water.  “Drink.”

Richard eyed Virgil with caution.  “What is it?”

“It’s water, dumbass.  Gotta keep you alive.  Once we hit the road, you won’t be getting a drop.”  Virgil grabbed his chin and forced his mouth open.

“Okay, okay.  I’ll drink, don’t force it.”  Virgil held the pitcher above his lips and slowly poured water down his throat.

As he was pouring, Virgil said, “You see, General, we got the skinny on how to handle you. Your buddy Ben told us how slippery you can be.  Seems like you’re a damn good escape artist.”  Once the pitcher was empty, Virgil pulled a dirty bandana out of his pocket and gagged Richard.  “You won’t be doin’ no talking.  Damn shame really, you’re a pretty funny guy.  Can’t have you playin’ your fancy mind games.  Good ole’ Ben says that’s how you pulled off your last escape.”

Richard was quite proud of his last escape.  Six months prior one of Max’s teams ambushed him while he was picking over a Walgreens for supplies.  While en route to Denver, Richard simply played the fools against each other.  At first they just argued with each other.  Pretty soon the arguments escalated to shoving matches followed by fistfights.  On the third day, all five of the men were at each other throats and no one bothered to look after Richard.  He simply took off running and by the time his captors settled down, Richard was nowhere to be found.

Virgil opened a footlocker and retrieved a musty burlap sack.  “Sorry about the smell, General.  This here’s the bag I use when I hunt squirrels and rabbits.”  Virgil slipped the bag over Richard’s head and patted him on the shoulder.  “Won’t be taking in the sights neither.  Gonna be a boring trip for you.  Reckon you can catch up on some sleep.”

For the first time in recent memory, Richard was not optimistic about his immediate future.  Even in the most desperate of circumstances, he could find some small weakness and exploit it to control his fate.  Decency could be met with violence. Any kindness paid to his humanity could be twisted into an opportunity.   Richard’s humanity had been replaced with a winning lottery ticket that Judge Willock was intent on cashing. 

Virgil reached behind Richard’s head and took a set of leg irons hanging on the wall.  He securely fastened them and laughed.  “Let me fill you on a little secret, General.  You better hope your friend Ben has a cuff key to let you out of this iron ‘cuz I ain’t bringing one.”

Richard was escorted out to the street and lifted up by four men into the back of a pickup.    The sound of horses made it clear how the pickup was making the trip. 

Virgil said, “What’re we waitin’ on?”

“Robbie and Seth are getting the food,” someone said.

“What about feed for the horses?” asked Virgil.

Richard made note of another voice.  “Can’t we just let ‘em graze?”

“No, retard.  I want tight security.  We all stick close together.  Can’t venture out looking for pasture.  Take your stupid ass and get some feed.  Hurry up.”

The next few minutes were filled with silence as they waited for the provisions to arrive.  To his right, Richard heard two of the men whispering.

“How much you gettin’ paid?”

“Why?”

“Don’t make no sense.  Why we gotta split the payday thirteen ways?  Shit, we can do the job with half that.  More money in our pockets.”

Virgil screamed, “Dipshits!  We ain’t even left yet and you fuckers done forgot the most important rule!”

“Damn, Virgil!  What?”

“When you within earshot of the prisoner, don’t talk!  The fuck you say?”

Richard didn’t hear a reply and imagined the two men staring at their feet hoping Virgil would leave them alone.  The two men didn’t need to say anything more; Richard had gathered the most crucial piece of intel he was after – how many trigger fingers were along for the ride. 

Richard took inventory of the situation.    Handcuffs and leg irons with no key, robbed of his sight and the ability to speak, and the grand prize – thirteen highly motivated men to watch over him. 

He might have little choice but to pay Max a visit.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Maxwell Harris had never been one for traveling.  Prior to the collapse of 2027 during his career in law enforcement, his vacations consisted of remaining on the couch playing video games and binge-watching television shows.  The idea of spending his hard-earned vacation days on a beach or a theme park was his vision of hell.  His wife, on the other hand, loved to travel and in her own way considered their trip to St. Louis a sort of vacation.  He was glad that at least one of them was going to enjoy the trip because he certainly was not.  His back, hips, and left leg were in such bad shape that any sensible doctor would strongly advise him not to travel.  The traitor had eluded Max for far too long so if the trip left him paralyzed, then so be it.

Elizabeth had all but emptied their home of every pillow, blanket, sheet, and towel and placed them in the back of a Ford Bronco.  Max did not like being pampered.  “Honey, this is too much.  I don’t need all of this.”

“What you need is to stay here and let me be the one to go.  But we both know that isn’t going to happen so the least you can do is shut up and let me make you comfortable.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You bring your medicine?”

“Yep, all of which expired twelve years ago.”

“You really should stay here.  I promise I won’t kill Dupree.”

“I’m more worried about him killing you and everyone on our team.”

“Your confidence in my abilities is touching.  Thank you.”

Max winked.  “You’re welcome.” 

Elizabeth finished the makeshift bed and stepped back.  “Your first-class accommodations await.  Care to try it out?”  

“Not till we leave.  Once I get comfortable in there good luck getting me out.”

“Good point.  You are very lazy.”

Max rolled his eyes.  “You’re funny. 

“I’ve got everything under control so you might as well get in.”

“Fuel?”

“Enough for the round trip and a little to spare.  Using seventy-five percent of our supply.”

“Weapons and ammo?”

“Twelve rifles, twelve pistols, twelve shotguns.  The M-60 is mounted along with all the ammo we have for it.”

“Food and water?”

“Max.”

“Just answer the question, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth indulged her husband’s incessant need for checklists.  She huffed and answered in a dull monotone.  “Four cases of MREs and thirty gallons of water.”

“Thank you, dear.  Was that so hard?”

“Will you please get in the car?”

“Yes ma’am.”  Max kissed his wife and climbed in the passenger seat and rolled down the window.

“Are you kidding me?  I made that comfy bed and you’re gonna sit up here?”

“Don’t worry; I’ll get back there when I need it.  Let’s get the team up here for a briefing.”

Elizabeth waved over the other ten members of the team.  They all gathered around Max’s window.

“Okay people, listen up.  Some introductions are in order.  We are lucky to have Isaac Lynwood and three of his people with us.  Isaac was responsible for bringing Theo back to us.  One of the last things Theo told me was to trust Isaac and that we could count on him.  I don’t know about any of you, but if Theo vouched for him, he’s one of us.”

“Thank you, Max, I appreciate that.  Whatever you need, brother.  We’re ready.”

Max continued, “This will be just like a recon mission or supply run but a hell of a lot longer.  Four vehicles with teams of three in each.  Open road with high visibility you spread out, tighter roads with low visibility you get closer.  A lot of desperate people out there will do anything to get their hands on this much fuel so watch out for Good Samaritan traps.  That means no stopping for anyone.  You will radio in your fuel status on every quarter mark.  The only bathroom break you’re getting is when we stop to refuel so you better bring a piss jug.  Since we don’t travel further than fifty miles out, we’ll be setting up camp before the sun goes down.  We will not be driving in the dark.  Since Isaac and his people are joining us, let’s go over the rules of engagement.  Someone on foot starts firing, just keep on driving and return fire only it’s needed to get away, otherwise, save your ammo.  If we’re attacked by another vehicle or group of vehicles, you are clear to engage but be mindful of friendly fire and do not stop unless you have no other choice.  I’ll be in the lead so if we come up on any roadblocks, it will be my call.  If a vehicle is disabled, we all stop and form a perimeter around it.  Questions?”