Enduring anarchy dark na.., p.9
Enduring Anarchy (Dark Nation Book 2), page 9
“If we have enough men, we could—” Dukes had barely finished his sentence when Bailey waved at him to be quiet.
“Just a moment, Dukes, I wanted Colton’s opinion.”
As Dukes quietly fumed, Colton avoided his gaze and stepped a little closer to the crane. “We’ll never move it with manpower alone. We need to be clever about this.”
“Oh yeah, and what do you suggest? Marine?” Dukes’ eyes had darkened, and his mouth was set in a thin angry line. Colton half expected Bailey to tell him to be quiet, but he didn’t.
“There’s a lumberyard not far from here. I passed it on the bus route every day. If we take some men, we can grab a bunch of logs or posts, use them to roll the crane out of the way.”
Almost spitting as he laughed, Dukes tipped back his head. “Ha! Nice try, but that’ll never—”
“How d’you think they built the pyramids? Stonehenge?” Colton widened his eyes. “You have heard of Stonehenge, haven’t you, Dukes?”
A pinkish heat began to creep up Dukes’ neck. Hicks bit back a smirk.
“Do you have a piece of paper, sir?” Colton asked.
Bailey turned to Dukes and waggled his fingers at him. “Dukes… your notebook?”
Looking like he might explode, Dukes handed over his notebook and Colton leaned on the top of the fire hydrant in front of them. After quickly sketching out what he’d pictured, he handed the notebook to Bailey.
The Chief examined it for a moment before a slow smile spread across his face. “Very good.” He thumped Colton’s shoulder. “Very good indeed.”
Three long hours later, Colton lowered himself onto a bench while Hicks and the others finished the task of moving the crane. Just as he’d planned, the logs had done the trick, but he was paying for his enthusiasm.
The trek to the lumberyard hadn’t been a long journey but it had been a difficult one. Determined not to lag behind, every step had felt like a thousand miles for Colton and his knee. If it hadn’t been for the fact that no one would have taken him seriously if he was wearing it, he’d have longed for Molly’s makeshift splint. As it was, he’d made do with the two ibuprofen he’d taken, which had made little to no difference.
Every now and then, as they had made their way to the outskirts of town, he had allowed himself to pause between strides, take a breath, brace himself for the pain he knew would come when he returned his foot to the ground. Sensing that Colton was struggling, Hicks had walked alongside him. When they’d reached the lumberyard, he’d snuck him another swig of whiskey.
“Pills not helped?” Hicks had asked quietly.
Colton had been unable to reply. Shaking his head, he had allowed himself another gulp of whiskey and closed his eyes. Ten years without booze or pills—one power outage and it had all gone to hell.
Now, as he watched Dukes shouting orders at his fellow cops as if it had been his idea to use the logs in the first place, Colton felt nauseated with exhaustion. It had been years since he’d exerted himself like this, and he couldn’t remember a time when his pain was as bad as it was now.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Debs would have said. “Why do you always have to think about other people before yourself? Are you really so desperate to fit in that you’ll put your own health at risk? What about me, Colton? What about us?”
Colton pushed her voice from his mind. He tried to remember the last time he saw her, but he couldn’t. Was it when she loaded the car and moved out? Or was it when they met for coffee in that depressing little diner to sign their divorce papers? It was all so long ago now that he couldn’t even remember what order it had happened in.
“Excellent idea, Colton.” Chief Bailey sat down next to him and handed him a bottle of water.
“I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more, sir.” Colton took a long drink, felt the liquid soothe his smoke-scratched throat, and straightened his shoulders.
“Nonsense, you’ve done plenty.” The Chief glanced at him and gestured to Colton’s leg. “That an old injury or a new one?”
“A little of both,” Colton replied.
“You’re doing well, son.” Bailey patted Colton’s shoulder. The contact surprised him, but he didn’t move away.
“Thank you, sir.” Colton paused, cradling the water between his hands. “You should make sure you rest, too, sir. The town needs you.”
Removing his hand, Bailey nodded slowly, watching as the cops who’d been moving the crane began to whoop and congratulate one another for a job well done. “The town needs a lot of things. Electricity mainly.” Bailey let out a soft chuckle. “And some goddamn coffee wouldn’t be amiss.”
Colton laughed and laced his fingers together behind his neck. “I hear you on that one, sir.” He was about to suggest that he take a walk to try and locate some in one of the nearby stores when he noticed Bailey sit up a little straighter.
Following Bailey’s gaze, Colton spotted what he’d spotted; a young female officer, out of breath, hair coming loose from its neatly tied braid, waving her arms at Dukes.
Without speaking, Bailey got up and gestured for Colton to follow him. As they approached, they could hear Dukes telling her to calm down.
“Take it easy, Miranda, and tell me again. What’s happened?”
“We….” The female cop—Miranda—sucked in a deep shaky breath. “We were assessing the next section of the train tracks, like you asked, but there are people on board.”
“People?”
“Looters, sir.” Miranda turned to Chief Bailey and put her hands on her hips as she continued to struggle for breath.
“Did you approach them?” Bailey asked.
“No, sir. They’re armed. I left Manning and Pratt on surveillance and came straight back here. I wasn’t sure what our policy is?”
“Policy?” Dukes echoed her as if she was asking a ridiculous question.
“On looters, sir.” Miranda looked nervously from Dukes to Bailey. “Do we try to stop them? Do we have the power to stop them?”
As everyone waited for Bailey to reply, the Chief’s lower jaw twitched. Colton could almost see his mind faltering. He was exhausted. For more than forty-eight hours, the man had barely sat down let alone slept. Cautiously, Colton said, “Sir, I think it’s pertinent to assess the situation before making that decision. Don’t you?”
“Yes.” Bailey snapped out of his frozen thoughts, shook his upper body like a dog shaking off river water, and motioned for Miranda to show them the way. As she hurried in front with Dukes, Bailey nodded at Colton. “Thank you.”
“No problem, sir. Looks like you could do with that coffee.”
“I sure could, Marine. I sure could.”
“After this next crisis is averted, we’ll schedule a pit stop at Starbucks.” Colton laughed and braced his hands on his lower back because, somehow, the pressure eased what was happening to his knee.
“Now that’s a plan I can get on board with,” Bailey replied.
Colton glanced at him. Something about the Chief reminded Colton of his father, except he was softer than Colton’s father. More congenial. More empathetic. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir, what is the policy with looters?”
Bailey clenched his jaw. “Under normal circumstances, it would not be tolerated. But now? In all honesty, son, I have no idea.”
13
COLTON
“It’ll be looters from Southside, sir. Their homes have gone up in flames, so they think it’s okay to steal what they need.” Dukes’ fingers were twitching at his belt as if he was ready to draw his gun and start shooting.
From the shelter of a nearby apartment block, Colton, Hicks, and the others were staring at a partly derailed train car. On its side, but still whole, its doors were open to the sky. A hole had been cut in the wire fence nearby, and they could hear movement inside.
Pacing up and down in front of it, two armed men were guarding the entrance, and Dukes was practically simmering with the urge to confront them.
“Sir,” Colton interrupted. “We don’t know what that train car was carrying. We’ve only just secured the eastern side of the tracks. If it were to go up because someone’s messing about up there, all the progress we’ve made will be lost, but—” he looked purposefully at Dukes, “if we want to keep the townsfolk on our side, we need to avoid any civilians getting hurt.”
“Quite right.” Bailey rubbed his chin, then put his hands into his pockets. “Dukes, take Hicks and Colton. Try to move them on.” Glancing at Dukes’ gun, the Chief added, “Be friendly. Reason with them. Explain to them that we need to secure the tracks in order to prevent any more outbreaks like the one on Southside.”
“Sir? You don’t want to accompany us?” Colton could think of no one worse equipped to negotiate with volatile thugs than Dukes.
Bailey shook his head. “Seeing the Chief of Police barging in is likely to escalate the situation. I’ll hang back with these three.” He gestured to Miranda, Pratt, and Manning. “We’ll back you up if you need assistance.”
“Colton can stay with you, sir. Hicks and I can handle this,” Dukes’ shoulders had stiffened, and he was purposefully avoiding eye contact with Colton, “alone.”
“Colton’s a Marine, Dukes.” Bailey’s patience for Dukes’ bitterness seemed to be wearing thin. “Take him with you.”
Dukes’ neck muscles twitched. His jaw was clenched so tightly he looked as if his veneer might crack. “Yes, sir.”
As they approached the train, Colton allowed Dukes to walk ahead and whispered to Hicks, “We need to keep this low-key. The last thing we want is for Dukes to kick off.” He was looking at Dukes’ gun as he spoke.
Hicks nodded. “Agreed.”
When they reached the open train car, however, before Colton or Hicks could speak, Dukes took out his weapon and began to yell. “Police! Stop what you’re doing. You two, lower your weapons. Those inside, come out with your hands in the air.”
The guards looked at one another but did not lower their weapons.
No one emerged.
On the ground in front of the train, boxes had been piled up, clearly ready to be carried away. Nearby, beyond the wire fence, a horse and cart was waiting.
Dukes moved closer. “I said lower your weapons.” He looked back at Hicks, who reluctantly moved his hand to his holster.
Glancing at one another, the guards finally did as they were told, put their weapons on the ground, kicked them away, and put their hands in the air.
“You’ll regret this,” one of them said loudly.
“Shut up!” Dukes ducked through the hole in the fence, gestured for Hicks to take the guns, then moved closer to the train car. “Fairfield Police! You are surrounded. Come out now and put your hands in the air!”
Colton bit back the urge to intervene, but when a frightened-looking woman emerged from the body of the car with her hands in the air, he muttered to Dukes, “She doesn’t look like a criminal, and these guys did what you asked. Perhaps calm it down, okay?”
“I’ll handle this, Marine.” Dukes gestured for the woman to climb down and stand in line next to the two, now unarmed, guards. Lowering his gun, he raised his voice and said, “Ma’am, we know you’re not alone. Tell whoever’s left inside to come out now with their hands in the air.”
“We only want to talk,” Colton said, finally unable to take Dukes’ incompetence.
“We’re not doing anything wrong,” the woman shouted back, putting her hands on her hips and trying to look as if she wasn’t fazed by Dukes and his gun.
Stepping in, Hicks moved closer and gestured to a warning sign on the side of a tank car. “Listen, guys, there’s flammable liquids on board this train, and I’m sure you’re aware there have been fires in the area. It’s not safe for civilians to be here.”
For a moment, the woman examined Hicks’ face as if she was trying to work out how old he was. Then she turned and shouted back into the train car, “Diego, you better get out here! It’s the cops!”
As Colton, Hicks, and Dukes lined up beside one another, people started to emerge from the train car. Instead of jumping down, they crowded together, standing on its upturned side.
“Jenna?” Colton narrowed his eyes. Jenna Cruz was in the middle of the group, wide-eyed, clearly not comfortable being involved in whatever was happening. “Jenna? You should come down from there.”
Slowly, Jenna raised her hand, offering a small polite wave. She was cut off by a thick-necked man with dark hair who’d pushed his way to the front of the group. Colton recognized him instantly; he was Jenna’s father, the volunteer firefighter who’d offered to lead everyone from Southside up to the school.
“Diego,” Colton called. “Mr. Cruz… there could be diesel on board, among other potentially dangerous products, and we don’t have a full inventory on what the train was carrying. We have teams securing the train bit by bit. We need you to come down so we can continue to do that.”
For a moment, Diego didn’t move, but then he smiled. “Diesel? Good,” he replied. “We need diesel for our generators. I need diesel so I can keep the people of this town safe.”
“Diego, that’s not a good idea.” Colton moved closer, ignoring the way the apprehended guards were staring at him.
Gesturing to a boy who looked no older than the kids Colton drove to school each day, Diego said loudly, “Mickey, go back inside and tell the others to start on the tank cars next. There’s diesel on board.” Selecting another boy, he said, “And you… start siphoning fuel from these abandoned vehicles.”
“Stop!” Dukes’ cheeks were red and his shoulders were shaking. “Stop this, right now. You have no right to be here.”
“We have every right to be here.” Diego Cruz jumped down from the train and strode toward them. “This train is no one’s property. Property and possessions mean nothing now. We are doing what’s right for the greater good. We need diesel for the generators at the school and we need supplies for the people of this town. The people cops like you have abandoned.”
Behind him, up on the exposed, hot metal side of the train, some of Diego’s group were nodding but others looked nervous. The guards who’d given up their weapons slowly positioned themselves behind Diego. The woman followed suit. Then three more men jumped down from the train.
As Dukes squared up to them, Colton assessed each in turn. One had a shotgun; the other two and Diego had holsters containing Sigs that looked a bit too new. Old man Petersen’s gun store had been raided last night—a coincidence? Colton thought not. Three guns and a shotgun vs. Dukes’ and Hicks’ one gun each. Five men versus three men. Not to mention whoever else was still inside that car.
“Abandoned? We’ve been up all night trying to save this town!” Dukes was yelling. A vein in his forehead was pulsing.
“Save it?” Diego moved forward, jutting out his chest and releasing a clap of laughter. One of the men behind him was reaching for his holster.
Colton stepped in front of Dukes and lifted his palms. “Mr. Cruz, I know your daughter Jenna. I was with her on the trip to the prison. I helped her escape.”
Diego narrowed his eyes. His head ticked, the tiniest bit, to the side.
“Diego, listen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but it isn’t safe.” Colton looked around the group and gestured to everyone’s weapons. “I’d also suggest it’s not safe for any of us to be waving firearms around when we’ve been battling gas explosions for the past twelve hours. This is a freight train. We have no manifest. We have no idea what it was carrying, but we know it caused one hell of a fire. You were there. You saw it. We don’t want a repeat of that, do we?”
“Never mind all that,” Dukes cut in. “What you’re doing is illegal. What’s in that train is private property. Whether it’s diesel or donuts, you have no right to take it.”
As Diego’s lips spread into a grin, the men behind him laughed.
Colton closed his eyes; every time he thought he was getting through to Diego, Dukes opened his big mouth and ruined it.
“What a surprise,” Diego drawled. “A cop who’s more concerned with protecting the private property of the rich than caring for the people of the community.” Pointing to the people up on the train car, who were still gathered nervously, unsure whether to go back inside or climb down, Diego continued. “Many of these people have lost everything. They have no belongings. No way to clothe or feed their children. Are you going to do that for them, officer? Are you going to take care of these people? Because if you’re not, then I am.”
Nodding at Hicks to get Dukes away from Diego before he exploded, Colton gestured for everyone to calm down.
“Okay, I get what you’re trying to do here, Diego, but we still can’t risk this train catching fire. So, what I’m going to suggest is that you take what you’ve got here.” Colton gestured to the boxes that had been dragged down from the train. “But no more. Not until we’ve confirmed it’s secure and safe. We’ll do what we can to help you, but you’ve got to help us in return.”
Diego sucked in his cheeks and rubbed his beard, clearly weighing up claiming looting rights over the train versus getting blown up if Colton was right about it being a liability.
Behind Colton, Dukes pulled his arm free from Hicks’ grasp and spat onto the ground in disgust as the younger officer tried to herd him away.
Ignoring Dukes, Diego assessed Colton. Looking him up and down, he narrowed his eyes then eventually nodded. “All right,” he said. “But we will be back.”
As Diego called for his companions to climb down from the train, Colton realized he’d been holding his breath and exhaled quietly.
“Pick up what you can from the ground out here and load it onto the cart,” Diego yelled.
