Holding Their Own: The Salt War (23 page)

The chief, his nose and mouth covered with a handkerchief, examined the three corpses, their personal effects identifying them all as part of Stan’s security force.

“They’ve been here for at least two days,” observed one of the deputies. “Other than that, we would need a full autopsy to determine the cause of death.”

“Well, it’s pretty damn clear to me two of them were killed with a knife, the other guy shot in the chest,” replied the senior lawman. “That’s cause enough for me.”

Hurrying outside to gulp the fresh air, the chief ran into Stan. “What’s all the ruckus about?” the head man asked.

“We just found three of your security people in there. All three died violently. I’m not sure what to make of it just yet. No witnesses… no obvious clues.”

Mr. Gospel pondered the announcement for a moment, reaching a conclusion quickly. “He’s got help, damn it. That fucking Alliance goon has people inside of our town helping him.”

“Could be,” responded the chief. “But why kill those men? Why here, completely on the opposite side of Cartersville from where he’s operating.”

“It doesn’t matter,” came the angry response. “They are among us, and no doubt up to no good. Let’s run every stranger at the park out of town. Right now.”

The lawman became worried about his friend, Stan’s reactions getting more and more paranoid. “If you say so, Stan. But I’ve got to tell you, I think we’re overreacting. We don’t know that these men weren’t slain by a completely independent party. Maybe someone managed to steal something valuable and was trying to get out of town? Hell, for all we know, some of our own people might have begun an uprising.”

Stan’s eyes darted left and right, and for a moment, the chief thought they might roll into the back of his head. “Don’t fuck with me on this!” the man screamed, veins popping out on his forehead. “I’m sick and tired of everyone second guessing my decisions. Get every damn stranger out of this town and do it right this minute! The only people I want to see at our feast tonight are the loyal, happy citizens of Cartersville.”

“Yes, sir,” came the brisk reply, the lawman retreating as quickly as possible, rushing off like a sergeant eager to execute an officer’s orders.

After his adrenaline had a chance to burn off, the chief used the walk to gather his thoughts. Stan was losing control, the signs of a breakdown plain to see.

Moving with a purposeful stride toward the school, the experienced lawman pondered his options. Was it time for a change in management? Was it time for his old friend to have an accident that would force new leadership to be appointed?

His analysis was interrupted by one of his men rushing up. “We’ve got a problem at HQ,” reported the out of breath man.

“What now?”

“A pipe on the roof has burst; the building no longer has water. The second shift will be coming in soon, and they’re going to want showers and food.”

The chief’s first reaction being that someone had executed an act of sabotage against his forces. For just a moment, it flashed through his mind that perhaps Stan wasn’t so insane after all.

After a few questions and answers with his deputy, he determined it was just a maintenance issue and not an attack. Exhaling, the top lawman said, “Don’t worry about it for now. We’ve got new orders to execute. We need every available man in town. Stan has ordered the park cleared out, as well as every non-resident. That’s going to take a while.”

“The men aren’t going to like that,” reported the lieutenant. “A lot of them have been out searching the woods for the last few days. You’re going to hear lots of bitching about Stan’s promise of a hot meal and a little down time.”

An idea then occurred to the chief. “Tell them they can still get a special supper. We’ll just cut in line at the festival tonight and make sure our guys get their share first.”

The deputy was skeptical. “Are you sure Stan is going to be okay with that?”

The senior lawman’s initial reaction was to bark a reprimand at his subordinate, but he held his tongue. “What choice do we have? Not five minutes ago, he ordered me to clear out every stranger in town. I don’t see how we can safely accomplish that and provide security for the festival at the same time. He’ll be okay with it.”

Cory and the doctor finished their task late. By the time the physician was handing over his share of the poison, the Alliance man realized he was going to miss the scheduled meeting with Grim at the fence.

While he was still trying to figure out the next move, Cory heard whistles blowing outside. He ran to the window in time to see several of the security men walking through the streets. “Oh shit,” he said. “They’re on to us.”

But the local thugs passed by the doctor’s house, continuing on toward the Exchange and the park. A nervous looking Victor arrived a short time later, sneaking in the back door like he had just robbed a bank. “Stan has ordered all non-residents to leave town immediately,” he reported. “I think they’re suspicious about something, maybe even our plan.”

“Shit,” Cory snapped. “I better get back to the park and pack up my stuff. I’ll do my best to deliver our little liquid package here, but now with all this going on, it is probably a long shot.”

“It’s okay,” replied Dr. Hanes. “Our scheme will still work even if we only manage to spray the festival food. Do your best, but if it’s too risky, don’t worry about it.”

Cory shook the hands of both men, pledging to see them soon. Tucking the small bottle of poison into the top of his boot, he exited the doctor’s home and made for the park.

As expected, he found the local enforcers bullying the temporary residents of their camps. Moving quickly, so as not to draw their ire, he began folding up his tent and packing the few belongings he’d brought into town with him.

Twice, one of the local goons had passed by, ordering him to hurry up and get out of town. Cory had just smiled, thinking about the man puking up his socks after he consumed the doc’s special sauce.

And then he was hustling for the north gate with the rest of the visitors, everyone grumbling and cussing the town of Cartersville. Cory wished he could have let them know they were better off not being able to partake in the feast, but again, he kept his mouth shut.

And then he was hiking along the same road where the bushwhackers had tried to rob him just a few days ago, wondering how he was going to make contact with Grim and Kevin.

Not knowing what else to do, Cory headed for their camp, not expecting to find anyone there, but not relishing the thought of wandering around the countryside at night – alone and unarmed. If Grim and Cory didn’t show up pretty soon, it was going to be too late to seed the poison in the guard’s headquarters.

It was almost dusk when he approached the abandoned home they’d been using to conceal the pickup. It seemed like a year had passed since they’d left Fort Hood, the four-man team excited over having a new leader and a new mission. In reality, it had only been 10 days, but to Cory’s bone-weary body and exhausted mind, much more time seemed to have passed.

“SAINT, coming in,” he announced to the empty-looking abode that had been home for most of the mission.

He found their truck undisturbed, Grim deserving credit for finding the excellent hiding spot. Cory found the secreted key, right where it should have been, and was soon pulling his weapon and radio out of the cab.

The radio! Grim and Kevin still had their radios!

He flipped on the still-charged device. Keying the mic, he said, “SAINT C to anyone. SAINT C to anyone. Do you read me?”

His heart fell when no one responded immediately. He tried again.

Finally, distant and riddled with static, he received a response. “SAINT C, this is SAINT N. Do you copy?”

Nick! It was Nick’s voice he heard over the airwaves. The boss must be close.

“Roger that, N. I read you.”

“I’m two miles south of camp,” came the response. “I should be there in an hour, if the creek don’t rise.”

“Copy, N. It will be good to see you. If you hear from K or G on the way in, let them know I need to talk to them ASAP. It’s critical.”

“Copy that, C. Heat up some coffee for me, would ya?”

“You got it, boss. C out.”

Grim checked his watch for the tenth time, worry painted all over his face. Kevin and he had been late arriving at the rendezvous point; Cory had never showed. It weighed heavily on the temporary team leader.

He had moved in as close to the blocked street as possible, switching his radio off so as not to give away his position, and save battery time. It never occurred to him to keep the transceiver operational. Cory hadn’t taken his communications device into town, afraid of getting caught with equipment would make him seem like anything but a poor, barely-managing traveler.

Kevin was acting in his usual role as overwatch, guarding Grim’s flank with his high-powered rifle. The combination of their positions would make it nearly impossible for their teammate to slip through unnoticed.

When Grim first spied a group of men walking away from Cartersville, the contractor relaxed. While he had no idea why Cory wouldn’t come alone, the fact that his man was safe eased the stress somewhat.

But Cory wasn’t among the group.

Before he could react, another small band of pedestrians appeared.
What?
Grim thought,
we haven’t seen this much foot traffic since we’ve been here. Something is wrong.

Knowing Kevin had his back made things easier. Rising from the shallow ditch that had been providing cover, Grim slung his rifle around to his back and approached the small group of walkers.

“Howdy,” he greeted, the strange Texas custom sounding weird coming from his mouth. “Have you folks been to Cartersville?”

There were four men, two women, and a small child huddled together as he approached. They did not seem happy or eager to make new friends.

“I mean no harm,” Grim stated explicitly, stopping several feet away and trying to look non-threatening. “I’m just seeking information.”

“Yes, we were just thrown out of Cartersville, stranger. It’s not a very friendly place at the moment,” stated the oldest of the bunch.

“Sorry to hear that,” Grim answered. His concern over his teammate immediately escalating. Still, he did his best to conceal the elevated anxiety. “I was there some time ago, and while they were pretty strict, it was a fair place to hole up for a while.”

“Yes, yes it was,” replied one of the others. “But today, something went wrong. They started rounding up everybody who wasn’t a full-time resident and forced us to leave. We didn’t have time to gather any supplies - barely got out of there with our belongings.”

“Any idea what happened?” Grim questioned, trying to pry as much Intel out of the frightened exiles as possible.

“There’s been a lot of unusual activity lately. They had some man come visiting from something called the Alliance a few days past, and that’s when the trouble started. Ever since then, the local goons have been high-strung and mean as hell. But today… today was really off the charts. They kicked everybody out and were damn rough about it.”

“Well, thank you for the warning. I think I’ll avoid visiting for a while, maybe give things a chance to settle down.”

Grim started to turn, but then remembered something the man had said. “Hey mister, before we part company, did I hear you say something about the Alliance?”