The Last of the Freemen (4 page)

“So, my house used to be your house?” Erin asked as they eased back along the rough road.

“Yeah.”

“Is that all you’re going to say? I’m curious.”

He made no response.

“And... you deal in illegal ammunition?”

“The less you know, the better. Let’s just say, if the shock troops come to snatch their kids, these folks won't be defenseless.”

She pressed her hands to her face and wiped her eyes. “My God. I can't believe this is happening. My only friends are criminals.”

“Forget it for now. You need to be thinking about what to grab, for a few days away from home. At least a few days. And we need to be quick. If they identify you, I don't know how long it’ll take them. So five, ten minutes, I'll help you load, then we’ll get you over to my place. I'll go back and set up the cameras after that.”

She sighed, placed a hand on Hughie’s forehead, and stared despondently out the window. They soon reached her driveway; as he made the left turn to enter, he looked quickly back over his shoulder in alarm.

”
Scheisse!
” he yelled as a police car emerged from concealment in the bushes across the road, lights flashing and siren blaring.

“They found us already?” Erin asked frantically.

“No, this is something else.”  He reached under his seat as his eyes darted around.  “Mrs. Gordon,” he said urgently, “how far would you go to keep your baby?”

“What?  Maybe you were speeding!”

He shook his head. “No.  This is a black-and-red,” he said, noting the colors of the police car. “Not local cops. These are the governor’s men.  They've been working in child abductions.”

“Maybe they’re here to ask some questions?”

The police car came aggressively close to their car’s rear bumper, blasting its horn repeatedly, but Harm continued up the long driveway without slowing.

“How far would you go?” he asked more forcefully, nearly shouting.

“I would do anything, absolutely anything!”

“Good.  Keep that in mind for the next few minutes.”

Another police car of the same description was parked in front of her house, nosed against her own car, and alongside was a black, unmarked van.  Harm drove close before stopping.

“This is why they shut off your car,” he said as two officers, both wearing flak jackets and Stahlhelm helmets, ran for cover at the far side of their squad vehicle; one leveled a tactical rifle at them, the other, portly man, aimed his pistol. The police car at their rear skidded sideways to block their escape, and the driver, a thin man with a mustache, stepped out and directed his pistol at them as well.

“You have to fight them,” Harm said with calm reassurance, “make a scene, a distraction.  I’ll take care of the rest.”  She looked at him in bewilderment as the police shouted commands to exit the car and place hands on their heads. “Follow your nature,” he said quietly, and got out of the car.

An officer from each side approached; the portly one shouted for them to put their hands on the car.

“Contraband milk!” the portly officer said as he looked in the car. “We’ll find out where you got that!” He clubbed Harm over the head several times with the butt of his pistol; Harm stood impassively, keeping his eye on Erin.

The second, thin officer moved Erin to the back of the car and holstered his gun, then stepped behind and frisked her. His hands moved over her chest and remained there.

“Oh God, please don’t do this,” she said with a quavering voice.

“I love this job,” he said with a grin.

“Jim, for Christ’s sake,” called the third officer, who was still standing behind the squad car with his rifle trained on Harm. “Remember we’re not alone here.”

Two people in civilian clothes got out of the van; a slightly built, balding man in his fifties wearing wire-rimmed glasses, and an obese woman with short dark hair and a black leather jacket. The man held a clipboard and kept close to the vehicle, while the woman walked brusquely towards them.

“You cowboys do what you want,” she said flatly. “I’m just here for the baby.”

She opened the rear door and unbuckled Hughie from the safety chair, tucked him roughly under her arm as he started crying, and walked away.

“Put him down!” Erin screamed, and tried to pursue, but was held back by the officer.  She turned in a rage and scratched him across the face; he grabbed her hair and slammed her onto the trunk of the car, then slapped her across the face. As he reached for his baton a shot rang out; he had time only for a shocked glance in Harm’s direction before a second shot passed through his forehead, dropping him dead to the ground.

At the driver’s side stood Harm, throttling the portly officer - now pressed against the car - with one hand, while holding the officer’s Glock in the other. The man flailed helplessly, then fumbled for his Taser; Harm jerked him away from the car and shot him once in the head, then turned to where the short-haired woman had stopped, petrified, with Hughie still screaming under her arm. He aimed the pistol.

“Give the baby back,” he said calmly.

Her jaw dropped but she said nothing.  Erin ran to her, pulled Hughie from her grasp, and had barely stepped away when another shot rang out. As she looked to see the woman on the ground, three more rounds were fired, and the man wearing glasses - who was opening the door to escape into the van - also fell.

Harm ejected the magazine to see how many rounds remained, then reinserted it and walked over to check the target of his first shot, the officer sprawled lifeless behind the squad car, an entry wound below his eye, his rifle still in his hands.

“I think that’s all of them,” he said, looking around as he took the rifle.  “Are you all right?”

“I am,” she said, trembling and clutching Hughie close while dabbing at her mouth.  “I think I have a fat lip, though.”

“You did a good job.  This guy almost had me.  Lost his bead on me when you fought back.  Another second, and I'd be dead.”

Harm quickly checked the van while holding the rifle ready at his chest, then went into the house; Erin was startled to see Harm’s dog bound past, sniffing at each of the bodies.  Bern came upon them soon after at a jog, toting a submachine gun and surveying the carnage.

“Donnerwetter!”
he exclaimed as Harm came back outside.  “This changes everything.”

“So it does.”

“So what now?”  Bern asked as he took the thin officer’s pistol from its holster.

“Mrs. Gordon,” Harm said, “we can help you.  But we have to go right away.  You have just a few minutes to grab what you need, unless you want to find your own way from here. If you want our help, we go now, and you're never coming back.”

Erin nodded quickly.  Harm then looked to Bern.

“Take them in the Buick, once she gets packed. Stop by the barn to change the plates. Use the Pennsylvania ones. Then take the south logging trail out to Hinterwald Road, to the old Eckhardt cabin. Wait there till I come. If I don’t make it, do you think you can remember the way to John Bear’s?”

“Oh, that's been a long time, but I believe I could find it. I never liked him, though.”

“We’ll go there tonight to cross the state line. Leave without me if I don't show by midnight.  Tell them I sent you. Don’t let him scare you. He owes me, even though he’d never admit it.”

“What are we doing?” Erin asked in dismay.  “Where are we going?”

“Away, and fast,” Harm said. “For now, you’ll go with Bern. I have some cleaning up to do.”

“Come, Mrs. Gordon,” Bern called as he went to the front door of her house, seeing that she stood unmoved.  “There’s no going back.”

Erin trembled as she gazed at the wall of photos; pictures of her husband, of the two of them together, and of them both posing with Hughie as a newborn; so many hanging on the wall there in the living room. A few of her mother.  And no way to take them all. In the closets, in the attic, there were her diplomas, shoeboxes full of love letters, the violin she played as a youth. Displayed in the dining room hutch, her grandmother’s antique China teapot; and the etched wine glasses celebrating their first wedding anniversary, which they had taken out every Saturday night for a candlelight dinner. There was too much to leave behind.

“Portable crib?” Bern called from down the hall. “You must have one somewhere.”

“In the closet,” she answered, “in Hughie’s room.”

“Grab a bag, Mrs. Gordon, throw in some diapers and clothes, and we have to go. We can’t beat helicopters and armored vehicles.  They’ll be on the way.”

She went to a closet near the front door and pulled out a suitcase with one hand; Bern hurried past, the submachine gun slung over his back, while in his hands he carried the folding crib and a box of disposable diapers.

“Any medicines that you or the baby need?” he asked as he went out the door.

“No, we’re both pretty healthy, thankfully.” She dragged the suitcase toward her room but stopped; Bern was quick to return.

“I’ll hold the baby so you can work faster,” he said.

“I need to change him.  I think you took all the diapers.”

“Truly, Mrs. Gordon, we have no time. Our lives hang in the balance here.” He gently took Hughie, held him on one arm, and picked up the suitcase. “They’ll take no prisoners,” he said as he headed for her bedroom. “You can change him when we get to the barn, while I'm changing the license plates.” He threw the suitcase onto her bed.  “I know it’s hard, but please be quick.”

She threw up her hands. “I don’t even know where to begin. Where are we going? What sort of clothes am I going to need?”

“Well, I don’t think any dinner parties are in your near future. Bring comfortable clothes, and good, sturdy shoes.  And, if you have any, gold jewelry and the like.”

“I don't have any left,” she said, tossing a pair of jeans onto the bed.  “Except for my wedding and engagement rings.”  Shirts, underwear, and socks flew through the air.

She went into Hughie’s room and grabbed an armful of his clothes, then returned and packed it all into the suitcase.

“Ready to go?” Bern asked.

“Can I grab a few pictures?”

“Of course.  I’ll carry this out.”

She returned to the wall of photos and considered, then reached for a favorite picture of her husband - a handsome man with dark hair, thick eyebrows, and a toothy grin - smiling in the yard not far behind their house, one warm autumn day half a year before. She took one of her mother, and lastly, a picture of Hughie as a newborn. A panic suddenly struck her - Bern was alone with Hughie - and she raced outside.

The old man stood at the side of the car, fastening Hughie into the safety chair. The government vehicles had all been moved, parked with their passenger sides mere inches from the house, and no bodies were visible. Harm stood with a section of garden hose siphoning gas from a police car into a five-gallon carboy he had taken from her kitchen water cooler.

“Okay, let’s go,” Bern said.

She stammered with the beginnings of a question, then thought better of it and climbed into the car. The door was scarcely closed when Bern sped them away almost recklessly, down the driveway, onto the road, and up his own circuitous entryway.  After driving past his house and around the back, he pulled up to a set of double doors at the broad side of an old red pole barn; he left the car idling as he rolled the doors open, and was quick to close them again after he drove in.

There were no animals or tractors inside; three vehicles were tightly parked on the right - a pickup truck, a jeep, and a van. On the left was a walk-in refrigerator and, next to it, a sectioned-off room with a heavy, insulted door that was hanging ajar.  Visible inside the room were multiple video screens showing various locations on the property.

“My God,” she said.

“Just change the baby,” Bern scolded.  “This won’t take me long.”  He went into the room and switched on a light, then returned with license plates and a wrench, before she had Hughie out of the car.

Slinging the diaper bag over her shoulder, she looked around for a clean, level spot.

“In the office,” he said, “there’s a desk. Just push Harm’s things out of the way.”

She entered the room and saw the small metal desk to her left; it was cluttered with newspapers, maps, and a few empty paper coffee cups.  A folded cot leaned against the side. Though she tried to move things aside gently with her forearm, newspapers and a coffee cup fell to the floor.

“Oops!” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bern barked.

“Where should I put the dirty diaper?”

“Right there on the desk.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. This will all be ashes in a little while.”

Heaviness hit the pit of her stomach, and remained while she dressed Hughie. She picked him up and went back to the car. Bern rummaged through a steel storage cabinet at the far side of the office and removed two duffel bags, which he threw into the trunk of the car, then he opened the barn doors again.

“Are we ready?” he asked as he came back.  “Got him buckled in?”

“Almost... There.  We’re ready.”

“Good.  Then we’re off.”

He backed the car out of the barn and they sped away, without stopping to close the doors behind them.