Still a very soft whisper, like he was breathing into the phone. “He’s at the door. Unlocking it. Opening it. Looking in. Backing out and closing the door. I’m stepping into the hall, revealing myself.”
Then I heard nothing for two seconds, then a sound like a whispered exhale. I’d heard that sound before, all morning in fact. While Jim was practicing.
“He’s down and done. Got him while he was drawing his weapon. I’m moving to the room.”
A pause, then, “I’m inside. They’re both asleep.”
That was all he said, and then I heard his and other voices. I heard Jerrod, and Jim shushing him. Heard a woman’s voice being shushed. A few moments later and Jim was back to me.
“They’re both okay. Naked, but okay. I’ve given them both the bulletproof vests I brought. I’ve dragged the man I shot into the room. Relocking the door. We’re leaving. Anyone else moving?”
“No. You’re all clear.”
“We’re going then. We’re at the back stairway, going down to the kitchen. You should get going.”
I jumped up and went, leaving everything behind but my rifle. I was heading out the way I’d planned, taking the route I’d repared. I slipping my own pair of night-vision goggles on, and the hand warmers guided me on my way. While I was moving, I heard Jim’s voice, clearly not speaking to me. “You have any dishtowels?”
The woman’s voice, at a distance: “Yes, but we need to run!”
“Get me the towels, as many as you have,” Jim said, softly but urgently, his voice pitched so as not to invite any argument.
A pause, then, “Here they are.”
Jim, speaking to them: “I’m duct taping towels to your feet. You can’t move through the woods without something protecting them.”
I couldn’t help myself. “You and your duct tape.”
A quick laugh, cut short. “I always have duct tape.”
I was still moving. I hated not knowing if any of the bad guys were up and aware of what was happening, but I felt it more important to be in a position to help if they were than it was to sit watching a screen. I got to Cedar Lane abreast of the side yard where they’d be emerging from the house just as I heard Jim say, again not to me, “Okay, we’ll make a run for it. Head for the gate in the side wall. Is it locked? Do you have a key for it?”
The woman’s voice, fainter than Jim’s: “Yes, and it’s hidden out there. Yes, I can get it.”
Jim: “Then go! I’m right behind you.”
I crossed the main driveway, heading toward the wall, pulling off my night-vision goggles and letting them dangle around my neck. It was too hard to use the rifle with them on. I got to the wall and found an opening in the bushes, a gap that let me see into the side yard. I saw an otherwise naked woman wearing a vest come out of the house, sort of stumbling and awkwardly running. She was followed by Jerrod, also naked but for a vest. They both were having trouble running on the towels taped to their feet. Jim followed them, looking back as he ran across the side yard. The woman got to the gate, picked up a rock and took a key from under it. She unlocked the gate and pulled it open. It gave out a loud squeak.
“Quickly,” said Jim, and the lady stumbled going through. Jerrod was right behind her and had to stop fast so he wouldn’t fall over her. Jim grabbed his arm so he wouldn’t trip, and that was when a man came out of the house through the side door Jim and the other two had used. He had a gun in his hand, and as I watched he brought it up to point at Jim’s back.
This was why I was here, and I didn’t pause. I was ready, rifle up and already aiming at the door, just in case, and as he raised his gun to aim, I pulled the trigger. I hit him just where I was aiming, low in the side. I assumed I’d hit a rib, most likely broken it. He screamed and fell. Jim took a quick look back, then pushed the other two through the gate, pulled it closed, and I could no longer see them.
The man I’d shot screamed again in pain. It was a loud scream. It was loud enough to awaken anyone in the house, and it followed the sharp crack of my shot, which wasn’t suppressed. There were two men left inside, two men unaccounted for, and they most likely were now awake.
Jim had told me to follow after him and the other two as soon as they’d gotten through the gate. He’d said we’d be okay then. He’d said not to wait behind.
He’d also said I wasn’t very good at following orders. He was right about that. As the man I’d shot screamed, I stood still, still aiming at the doorway. And yes, another man came out the door. He, like the other man, was wearing regular clothes. I’d imagined all these guys in suicide vests, and perhaps they had them, but they hadn’t taken the time to put them on before coming outside. The second man glanced at the man on the ground, then looked around to see where the shot had come from. I wasn’t hiding, though with the bushes around me I couldn’t have been very obvious. I was standing by the wall, in the hedge, still aiming. The man did see me and brought his handgun up. But I was already waiting and aiming. I didn’t want him following us into the woods. I shot him in the leg. He went down, also screaming, but then brought his gun back up and shot at where I’d been.
I was no longer there. As soon as I’d seen him fall, I’d ducked below the wall and run. I felt better now. There was still one man who could follow us into the woods, but the other two, even though they were still alive, wouldn’t be chasing anyone.
Crouching just a little, I ran to the corner of the wall, then around the corner and down toward where the gate was. Turning to look toward the woods, I could just make out what looked like a path. It was obviously rarely used because it was very indistinct. That was where I guessed they’d gone. I pulled my night-vision goggles back on, and then I knew for sure because I saw Jim, already into the woods a short ways. He’d waited for me.
“Come on,” he said urgently, just loud enough for me to hear, urging me to join him.
“You go,” I responded. “I’ll follow, but watch your back. There’s one more man. He may be coming. Go! Watch the other two.”
Jim shook his head, obviously upset with me, but then was gone, evidently not wanting to waste time arguing or perhaps realizing how much either the woman or Jerrod or both might need his help. I moved across the yard and into the woods. The trail I was to take was hardly that and almost impossible to see in the dark, though the goggles helped. The clouds overhead had thinned and every now and then the moon would show through. That helped a great deal. But the light would come and go, and instead of my eyes, I used my ears. I could hear the sounds of people moving straight ahead, then bearing left. I followed, but carefully, noiselessly, looking back as well as in front.
I was looking back when I almost tripped. I looked up and saw Jerrod there. He’d stopped. He was waiting for me. Damn! I wanted him safe. Not with me.
I saw Jim, and then he was gone. I guessed he wasn’t going to take the time to argue with Jerrod; he saw him join up with me and then went to help the woman if she needed it. He must have felt Jerrod would be as safe with me as with him. I didn’t believe that at all.
I yanked the goggles off again. They felt cumbersome and unnecessary. I grabbed Jerrod’s arm and kept moving. He stumbled along with me. I kept looking back. Then I heard something. Something behind me. Coming up fast.
It had to be the fourth man. I pushed Jerrod behind a tree and brusquely whispered, “Stay there!”
Then I took a step to the other side of the path and got down on one knee. I was still black from head to foot, and it was dark in those woods. I thought the chance of being seen was about the same as a polar bear being seen in a whiteout.
The moon chose right then to come out from behind the clouds, a providential moon, and in the dim light filtering through the trees, I saw the man. It was the guy from the Burger King. The one Jim had said wanted vengeance. I saw something else, too, something terrifying. He was wearing a suicide vest.
I imagine you’re supposed to yell ‘STOP!’ or ‘HANDS UP!’ or ‘FREEZE’; something like that. In the brief instant I had, that thought seemed whimsical nonsense. Instead, I shot him in the leg. He screamed and went down, pitching forward, his momentum taking him onto his stomach. He didn’t stay there. He screamed again, and this time it sounded more like rage than pain, and he rolled over. He looked at me, his eyes in the moonlight full of hatred. I was all too aware of the explosives he was wearing. As I watched, wondering what to do, the decision was made for me. The man moved his hands, reaching up to his suicide vest, reaching for something I could see attached to the top of the vest.
I shot him again, this time in the forehead, and his arm dropped to his side. His hand had ended up just short of whatever he was reaching for. I was sure it was a detonation button.
It was hard going through the woods, helping Jerrod along, but halfway to where we were going, there was Jim again. I didn’t bother to whisper.
“They’re all accounted for. Not present and accounted for; just accounted for. You killed one in the house, I just killed the one who was looking for you, the brother. The other two are probably back at the house, both will bullets in them.”
The tension in Jim’s posture seemed to ease. He took a deep breath, then said, “Jerrod’s aunt made it to the house okay. She’s inside; they’re waiting for us. I took a moment to call the cops. Not sure they believed me. I told them there were terrorists at the address I gave them and to proceed with caution because these guys are of the suicide persuasion. I didn’t tell them who I was, but they can find the location I called from. I expect we’ll be visited sooner or later.”
We were no longer in a panic, and the remaining walk to the fourth house, our rendezvous, was made without incident. Jerrod stayed right with me. He’d grabbed my hand and held it all the way. When we got there, the door opened before we even knocked, and then we were inside. At that point, Jerrod more or less fell into my arms, and I was in his, too. He was still nude, but I guessed he’d been that way so long he hardly noticed.
His aunt had a bathrobe on, and she was holding one out for him. He didn’t seem to be about to let go of me, so I reached out and took it from her. I’d have it for him when he was ready to put it on.
As soon as we came in, Jim moved deeper into the house, his cellphone up to his ear. He’d already called the local authorities; he’d told me that. Maybe this call was to his boss.
I wasn’t surprised the local dispatcher had been a bit incredulous. I doubted Jim had been in a mood to argue with him. He’d said what was relevant and necessary, then disconnected. He’d had more immediate things to do just then.
Jerrod held on to me for a long time. He looked awful, like he’d lost ten pounds, ten pounds he didn’t need to lose. He’d already been skinny. Now he was gaunt. His color was pale, he was dirty, and it was obvious he hadn’t had a shower in days. His eyes weren’t right, either; they showed how upset, how spaced out he was.
I could fix the dirty and unwashed situation, and hopefully that might start an improvement in his obvious mental distress.
The house owners, an older couple, seemed more than a bit confused and flustered over what had happened so suddenly. Only the fact that they knew Jerrod’s aunt had convinced them to open the door, and that had been shocking enough for them because she was standing there nude except for a strange-looking vest. They’d just been hearing a fantastic story from her when she said, “Oh, here they are,” and opened the door to let in a nude teenager with towels for shoes, towels that were taped to his feet just like the woman had had. The old couple’s bewilderment multiplied as another boy came in with the nude one, this one clothed all in black and with his face and hands covered in black greasepaint. To top it off, he was carrying a rifle, and the odor of burnt gunpowder followed him in. Then came a man wearing a funny looking vest with a handgun tucked in it and showing signs of fatigue. Just the sort of thing anyone might have a problem getting a grip on, but this was an older couple who’d been fast asleep in the early morning hours when the first loud knocking was heard, and they were obviously knocked for a loop by our group.
I asked the woman if I could show Jerrod to a shower, and she recovered enough of herself to nod and say it was upstairs at the end of the hall. I took Jerrod up, and in the bathroom we both undressed. It was easier for him than for me. He only had to drop the vest and the robe I’d finally gotten on him. Then we both worked at getting the tape off his feet. He was pretty ineffectual, hardly getting any tape off, no seeming to understand what he was doing. After I’d finally got both his feet tape-free, I started searching through the cupboards and found a jar of cold cream. I used it to get rid of my black makeup. Then we stepped into the warm shower together. Almost immediately, Jerrod started to collapse, and I held him. He began sobbing, and I realized the extent of the strain he must have endured. It really hadn’t occurred to me how he’d have felt.
I held him, and he sobbed and shook for several minutes. Finally, he got himself under control and was able to stand on his own. I gently washed him all over, then did myself. I shampooed his hair twice. He looked a lot better, his skin rosier. His eyes still looked a bit dazed, but he now seemed to know where he was. He was with me. I think that helped.
I dried him off; he didn’t show any resistance. That was when I realized he hadn’t said a word since I’d seen him. My heart was suddenly in my throat. How badly damaged was he?
“Jerrod?” I said. “Can you speak?”
He looked at me, and I didn’t think he was going to reply, and just as I was getting really scared, he said, “Colt.”
I hugged him. He hugged me back. We stood there like that for minutes. He started crying again, but it didn’t last as long as it had in the shower. I could tell, he’d need time to get over what had happened. At some point, during the time he’d been locked in that room, he’d probably accepted that he wasn’t going to live through what was happening. Then all of a sudden, taking very little time to happen, there’d been Jim and the flight through the woods and the guy with the bomb coming through the trees, and then I was shooting that guy, killing him, and Jerrod had lived through it all. It was going to take some time for him to figure it all out, to come to grips with it.
We went back downstairs finally. We’d been gone for some time. In the living room, the old man was sitting in what I guess was ‘his’ chair, looking sleepy and still confused. Jerrod’s aunt and the old lady were coming out of the kitchen, the aunt still wearing a borrowed robe, barefoot and carrying a tray with cups and saucers, teapot and a thermos. Jim wasn’t there, but I saw an open door into a room that looked to be a den. I could hear his voice but not the actual words coming from there.
Jerrod sat on the couch next to me. Actually, he sat so he was up against me, touching me from my shoulder to my knee. He took my hand again. We were both given a cup of hot cocoa; that was what was in the thermos. The adults all had tea.
We were on our second cup when there was a loud knock on the door. It was quickly repeated, and a voice called out, “Sheriff’s deputies. Open up! Open up! Sheriffs!”
The knocking continued. The old couple looked at each other. Neither moved. The night—or early morning—was becoming too much for them.
I stood up and walked to the door and opened it. I could see red lights rhythmically bouncing off the trees, but the cars were still in the driveway and not visible. In front of me was a man in a uniform with a badge. Behind him were three more officers, two of them with shotguns and the third with his service weapon drawn but not pointed.
The officer in front said. “Sheriff’s department. Is there an adult here?” Then without pause he said, “We’re coming in.”
There was a no-nonsense air to the man, and I decided that not arguing with him was the best thing I could do. I had nothing to argue about in any case. I stepped aside, and all four men entered.
“Who’s in charge here? Whose house is this?” the leader asked.
The two older people looked numb to me. They didn’t answer. I’d never been the shy, retiring type, and I didn’t think the old couple could take much more. Speaking to a loud, insensitive policeman and not knowing the answers to any of his questions wasn’t something I felt they were up to. So, I spoke up. I instinctively don’t like officious types. I’d had too much of them growing up with my dad and brothers. This guy brought back some of the feelings I’d had back then.
“It’s been a long night and these people have all been through a lot,” I told the man. “If you’d lower your voice and speak a little more politely, I think you might get a better response. Barging in and raving at people isn’t going to get you much.”
The man jerked his head back. I guessed he wasn’t used to getting attitude, even polite attitude, in domestic situations. He was used to being the one in charge, used to instant obedience.
“Who the hell are you, and who the hell do you think you’re talking to? Did you have anything to do with the house next door? We found a dead body in the woods and a man down outside the house next door, both having been shot. I need some answers, and I need them now.”
“And what the people in this room need is some sleep,” I responded, speaking in the same angry tone he’d used. “You can get your answers, but not tonight. Nothing’ll change between now and tomorrow morning when we’ve slept and are better able to talk.”
“Bullshit! So you were involved, huh? Okay, I’m taking you into custody. You’ll talk tonight, and so will everyone else. I’m calling for a van. You’ll all be transported to the county lockup.”
This wasn’t going well! I was about to get into trouble with him when Jim emerged from the den, holding his laptop.
He suddenly found two shotguns and a handgun pointed at him. He looked at them, then ignored them and turned to the young officer in charge. I was happy to see one thing: the gun, which had been sticking out of his vest, was no longer in sight.
“Who are you?” he asked the cop.
The officer pulled himself up straighter. “I’ll ask the questions. Who are you? What happened next door? You’re coming in with us. Was all this your doing? In any case, you’re under arrest as a material witness.” He turned to the man with the pistol. “Joe, cuff him.”
Jim smiled. I loved that man! They say ‘cuff him’ and he smiles. Incredible. Then Jim said to the one in charge, “You know who the Secretary of US Homeland Security is, don’t you? Here, he’d like to talk to you.”
Jim handed his laptop, which was open, to the officer. I was off to the side but could see the screen. It had a man’s face on it, which I recognized. The man spoke, and I also recognized his voice. Secretary Randsome Clark had a very distinctive Maine accent. He’d recently given an address, a State of the Nation’s Security address, that had been aired nationally. With his distinctive shock of thick, white hair, he was a figure that just about everyone in the country recognized. Everyone knew his voice as well.
The man on the screen was looking directly at the Sheriff’s Deputy. “I’m Randsome Clark. What’s your name, Trooper?” Secretary Clark asked, and the deputy, almost dropped the laptop. He fumbled it, caught it, and in a much different tone of voice, said, “John Boscki, sir.”
“Well, Trooper Boscki, I want you to hear this. These people are not to be disturbed. They’ve been through a lot tonight and don’t need to be hassled by local authorities. This is a federal matter. The two adults and two young people are to be escorted back to their motel. The homeowners are to be left alone as well. Leave a guard there, outside, but there should be no need for that. Up to you. The four going to town, they are to be left alone once they’re at their motel, but leave a guard at their door with orders to see they’re not disturbed. When they’re able, they’ll phone you and you can visit them and get their report. They’ll tell you what they’re permitted to about what happened tonight. They have the right not to answer any questions they wish to avoid, and they’ll use it. You will not press them for those answers. That will happen sometime later today. Much later! In the meantime, you’re to hold the surviving men you found who’d been shot. Those two men are terrorists, and must be kept secure, under your watch. We want them alive. They have information that is valuable to us, to the country. Make sure they have no way to escape or harm themselves. Be aware that they may be willing to die rather than be caught. The dead man in the woods wore a suicide vest, and the other two men might have the same.”
At that point I saw the deputy go pale. He stuttered a little, then said, “But, sir, we only saw one man at the house. He said he’d been attacked. He said the wound was superficial and that he’d drive himself to the hospital in the morning. He didn’t say anything about another man being shot. He said the people who’d attacked him had fled in the direction of this house. We left him there to come here.”
“You left him alone? You didn’t search the house? You took him at his word? Are you mad?” I could see Mr. Clark turning red. “You knew nothing about who he was, and you left him there? He’s a terrorist. So is the other guy who was with him. Why didn’t you secure him till you had a firm understanding of what was going on? We need those men. We need them alive. We need to interrogate them!”
The deputy opened his mouth to speak, but the words were never heard. Instead, we heard and were shaken by a huge explosion.