Going Home (50 page)

“In the boat, Sarge,” he answered, looking out the big door. He could already see the boots of the first guy approaching the door.

“Shit!” Sarge said through gritted teeth as he went into the office door and quickly closed it.

Billy and Tommy were out on the dock going about their business as the three DHS agents approached. When they first approached, Billy stepped onto the boat and laid a sheet of plywood over the SPW. As the agents approached, one of them stopped to look into the boat. He didn’t see the weapon, but he saw the radio mounted to the console. He looked at one of the other agents and nodded to it; the other saw it and gave a nod in return. The two of them walked through the big door to find Don on his stool.

“Ya here to steal some more from me?” Don said by way of greeting to them as they came in.

The agent casually walked up to the counter and laid his M4 on it. “Whose boats out there?”

“Just some boys that came in for some supplies,” Don replied.

While Don and the agent were talking, a man outside on the dock came up to the agent standing in the door and started to talk to him. Doc saw the man pointing to the boats and gesturing through the big door. It was obvious what was going on to him—some sorry bastard trying to garner favor with the DHS thugs at their expense. The agent spoke with the man for a minute before coming inside. He went up to the counter where the first agent and Don were still engaged in a lively back-and-forth. The two of them stepped off to the side for a moment and spoke and then the agent returned to talk to Don.

The agent from the door caught the attention of the other and jerked his head in a “follow me” kind of motion. They started to move out toward the warehouse. The first agent walked back up to the counter and looked at Don. “Where are they? They have an illegal radio in that boat and, from what we were told, weapons. You know damn well all weapons were to be turned in.”

“How in the hell are people supposed to know that? There ain’t no fuckin’ TV or radio,” Don spat back at the agent. “You assholes ain’t helping anyone.”

“We put a radio in town. I think you’re well aware of that. Now I’m not here for a damn debate. Where are they?” the agent asked again, this time with an edge to his voice.

“I told you I don’t know. They went into town, I guess. They dropped off a list of what they wanted and left.” Don rocked back on his stool and folded his arms across his chest.

The agent looked down on the counter and picked up one of the silver rounds. “An’ they paid in sterling? That doesn’t strike you as a little odd? Not to mention you can’t have this either. I’ll be confiscating these.” The agent picked up the other coins and dropped them into his pocket.

Don launched himself off his stool. “Wait a damn minute! You ain’t taken that; that’s mine!”

The agent hit Don in the chest with an open palm, knocking him down. He stepped around the counter and drew his sidearm; he stepped over Don, who was sprawled on the floor. Pointing the weapon at his face, he said, “I can do whatever the fuck I want. I’ll kill your stupid ass if I’m so inclined. You are at the very least guilty of harboring armed fugitives, and for that alone, I could kill you!”

Don raised his hands over his face, trying to shield it from the blast he just knew was coming. The agent continued, “And there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it!”

Sarge was in the little office listening to the exchange just outside the door. He was getting pissed; the old man hadn’t done anything wrong, and he felt responsible for the knuckle dragger that was fucking with him.

“For the last time, where are they!” the agent shouted as he kicked Don in the leg.

From behind the door of the office came a voice, “In here.” The agent looked up quickly and then looked back at the other two who were already moving toward the little room. He stepped over Don toward the office, positioning himself in front of the door. Inside Sarge listened to the boots scuffing on the floor. When he was confident the agent was in front of the door, he took a step back and grabbed a file cabinet to brace himself. The agent reached for the knob with his free hand just as Sarge kicked the door out. The door slammed into his hand, instantly breaking his index finger and thumb; the force of the blow knocked him onto his ass.

Before the other two could react, Doc fired one round that hit one agent in his right ear. He was dead before he hit the ground. Ted took out the second one with a double tap to the back of his head. He too was dead before he hit the ground. Sarge was out and on top of the asshole that was in front of the door. The agent was lying on his back, holding his hand; his pistol was on the ground beside him.

“You can do what you want, huh? You can kill him if you want, huh? What the hell has he done wrong?” Sarge’s voice rose in octaves as he spoke.

Ted and Doc quickly secured the bodies of the other two and began to strip their weapons. The agent was lying on his back glaring back up at Sarge through gritted teeth. “You’re a fucking dead man. You have no idea who you’re fucking with.”

“Oh I know exactly who I’m fucking with. You’re the same kind of asshole I had strung up in my garage,” Sarge said to him.

The agent’s eyes got wider; he looked up at the old warrior standing over him. “You, you’re the one! Ha-ha-ha-ha, you just wait till we get a hold of you. People like you need to learn your place in the world, and we are certainly going to teach you,” he snarled back. Spittle was coming out of his mouth; he was so mad.

“Sarge, we gotta go, man,” Ted called out.

“On your feet, asshole.” Sarge reached down and grabbed the man by his shirt and jerked him onto his feet.

He still had that sneer on his face when he looked over at the bodies of his two compatriots. Then he looked at Ted and Doc. “You must be two of the fucking traitors we’re going to skin alive. The gloves are off, boys. When we catch you, you’ll beg to die.”

“What’s the plan, Sarge?” Doc asked.

Don was back on his feet, although a little shaky. The agent looked at him. “You too, you fat fuck; you’re a dead man.” Don’s face showed the terror he felt; he believed what the man in the black BDUs said to him. He looked at Sarge with fear in his eyes.

“Shut up, dumbass, you’re in no position to make any threats,” Sarge said. He reached out and grabbed the man’s broken fingers and twisted them. He let out a howl of pain. But he wasn’t going down without a fight. With his good hand, he grabbed Sarge’s wrist and rolled it back and away, while he lowered his shoulder and charged into him. The two men fell to the ground behind the counter.

Ted and Doc both ran toward the counter as they heard a yelp of pain. As they rounded the counter they saw Sarge standing over the man with a fistful of the man’s testicles. He was lying there in some serious pain. Sarge gave him one more good squeeze before he stood up. Doc and Ted stood there for a minute looking at him as Sarge straightened up.

“There is only one way to deal with people like you,” Sarge said as he drew his pistol. The sound of the shot filled the empty warehouse. “Get their bodies into their boat and let’s get out of here.” Sarge knelt back down beside the body and pulled the rounds out of his pocket. He stood up and handed them to Don. “I think these are yours. I wouldn’t stick around here if I was you.”

They dragged the bodies of the three agents out to their boat. A small crowd was gathered outside on the dock. The man that had been talking to the agent earlier was there in the front of the crowd. He was wearing a dirty red flannel, the kind that’s lined with insulation. Everyone looked on while the bodies were piled into their boat. As they dropped the last agent into the boat, he stepped forward.

“What do you think you’re doing? They’re with the government. You can’t just go around killing them,” the man in the flannel said.

Sarge looked over to him. “And what have they done for you? They came in there and threatened that man’s life for no reason other than selling some lumber. You ready to roll over and let them tell you what you can and can’t do?”

“If they will provide for us, I am. We need some help. Where the hell is it supposed to come from if not them?”

“Well, you may be ready to roll over on your back and spread your legs, but I ain’t,” Sarge replied.

With that they hopped into the boats. Sarge got into the agents’ boat. “Follow me.” He started the boat and cast off the lines; Ted and Doc did likewise. Sarge headed out to the river and turned toward the west, heading to the gulf. They ran the boats out into the open water of the gulf for about a mile before Sarge kicked the motor out of gear. He stepped back to the fuel tank and pulled the line out of the red plastic tank. Opening the cap he dumped the fuel on the bodies and all over the back half of the boat. From under the console, he pulled an orange Olin flare kit out. Waving Ted over, he stepped back onto his boat and took a handheld flare out and struck it. Tossing the flare into the boat, he waved them back toward the river. As they headed back up the Suwannee, the boat became a ball of flame, thick black smoke billowing up from the slick surface of the gulf.

“What was that about?” Ted asked.

“Sending a message,” Sarge answered over his shoulder.

“I think they’ll get it,” Ted replied.

The trio made it back to the cabin without incident, although all of them kept their eyes on the sky. Once back, Sarge filled Mike in on what went down and made a point to make sure that everyone knew they had just killed three federal agents of the DHS. After that, Sarge laid out the plan on what he wanted built, and the guys all got to work on it.

Thad slept all night in his chair. He never stirred. He woke in the morning to the smells and sounds of breakfast cooking. He clearly smelled eggs and bacon and heard the grease in the skillet popping. But how in the hell did they have bacon? He rose stiff out of the chair and walked into the kitchen. Anita looked up from her work at the stove as he came in. His mother was sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee. She looked up and smiled at him. “Mornin’, son,” she said with a big smile.

“Mornin’, Momma,” Thad said.

He sat down at the table and turned over a cup for himself. Taking up the percolator, he poured a cup of coffee. Anita called for little Tony to come in for breakfast; the little boy came in at a run and sat beside his father, as if it was just another day. Anita dished out some scrambled eggs for the boy and then looked at Thad.

“You hungry?” she asked.

“I’m alive, ain’t I?” he answered.

She smiled at him and returned to the stove. In short order, she was setting a plate down in front of him with eggs over medium, bacon, sliced tomatoes, and a thick slice of bread and butter. Thad looked down at the plate, amazed at what was set before him.

“How did you get all this?” he asked while looking at the plate.

Anita sat down at the table with a cup in her hand. “Ole man Jackson is making salt-cured bacon. I have some tomato plants growing out back in a little greenhouse we made out of some plastic. And your mother made the bread. We don’t have too much flour left, so enjoy it,” she answered.

“Well, God bless, Mr. Jackson,” Thad said as he picked up a thick slice of the bacon.

The rest of breakfast was spent in light small talk, a lot of it with little Tony. Now that he was home, Thad realized just how much he had missed the little guy and his wife and mother. It was the warmest feeling he had ever experienced sitting at the little kitchen table with his family.

Anita asked about the truck—where he got it and how the trip home was. He told her of Morgan and Sarge and the guys that showed up there. He didn’t tell her about much of the trip; he didn’t want to think about it himself. And he knew she couldn’t handle some of what he had done—no, he would just keep that to himself. After breakfast, he would go through the truck, but, for now, he just wanted to enjoy this a little longer.

Over the last cup of coffee, Thad asked how things had been around home while he was gone. Anita told him of the hardships of no power, no news, and not knowing where he was. Even with all that, they live far enough out that they hadn’t seen any sort of trouble. The few neighbors in the area worked together to help each other out. She traded some of what they had extra of for things they didn’t have. With what they had stored in the pantry, they hadn’t gone hungry, although dinners of rice and beans got old at times. Overall, though, things weren’t as bad as they could be.

Thad stood up from the table and looked at little Tony. “You wanna come help me clean out the truck?”

The little boy jumped up from the table, causing it to slide a bit. He ran for the door ahead of Thad; Anita called out for him to put on his jacket as they went out. Thad went to the truck and pulled the pack from the bed and then went to the cab and pulled all the guns out. He laid the rifle and shotgun on the hood. Then he took out the pistols and laid them out as well. Climbing in the cab, he was about to remove the radio to set up in the house when he remembered what Sarge said about not transmitting from the house, or the same place twice. He decided to leave it in the truck for now. Later today, he would go out and try to radio Sarge; maybe he could even find Morgan on the radio.