HOMELAND: Falling Down (Part 1 of the HOMELAND Series) (8 page)

“Anybody else hit?”

“Multiple civilians. The place was packed with customers when they hit.”

A woman dashed from the store, her face a picture of terror.

“Over here!” An officer waved her behind a police car.

She ran for cover, but was cut down by a burst of bullets from inside the building.

An officer in full tactical gear crouched by Hank and Gunny. “Assault team’s ready.”

Gunny said, “I know that’s supposed to be your call, Hank, but there wasn’t time.”

“You did good, Gunny.” Hank strapped on his body armor and slung his tactical bag across his shoulder. “Let’s go.” He put a hand on Gunny’s shoulder. “You stay here.”

The sheriff followed his team into the store. Gunfire erupted anew the instant they crossed the threshold.

Hank darted for cover but lost his footing and fell in something wet. He scrambled behind a cash register as muzzles barked and shell casings jingled on the tile floor.

He was covered in whatever it was he’d slipped in. It was sticky and slick as dish soap. He looked down at his hands. They dripped with blood.

He checked himself. He wasn’t hit. Hank followed the red trail around the register to an old man lying in a pool of smeared gore a few feet away. Two more civilians lay wounded in the aisle beyond. One of them was still moving.

Two bandits made a break for the door and were eliminated in short order. Three more retreated behind the pharmacy counter.

“Mask up!” the team leader yelled. Hank grabbed the gas mask from his tactical bag as the assault squad took cover and donned their masks as well.

“Gas out!” A tear gas grenade landed behind the counter.

Two robbers came out choking and shooting. A hail of return fire killed them instantly.

The shooting stopped. One bandit remained behind the counter.

Hank heard the hiss of the grenade, the huffing of his own breath in the mask, the pounding of his heart throbbing in his ears.

Then the coughing started, violent, wheezing, gagging.

“I give up!” a voice gasped from behind the counter. Two hands appeared.

“Come out! Keep your hands up!” the team leader ordered.

A young man, no more than seventeen, in jeans and a dirty t-shirt stumbled into view and was immediately tackled and bound by two of Hank’s men.

Hank said to the team leader, “Clear and secure the building so the medics can evacuate the wounded.”

“Yes, Sheriff.”

He walked to where the two bandits lay, watching his step on the blood-slicked tile. This was the second time in one night innocent blood was shed in his county.

He found Gunny nursing a leg wound.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a scratch. I’m good.”

“I told you to stay outside.”

“A marine always marches to the sound of the guns.”

“I need you, Gunny. I’ll be damned if you go down because of your ‘gung ho’ shit.”

“I’ll try to behave.”

“You better. I’m taking the surviving suspect in myself. Get a doc to look at that leg.”

Hank shoved the young man into the back of his vehicle and tossed the bloodstained body armor and tactical bag into the trunk. He found a dirty towel and tried to wipe the tacky blood from his skin and clothes, but it was no good. He laid the dingy cloth across the driver’s seat and got in.

The prisoner didn’t say a word as Hank drove him to the jail. He remained silent as Hank cuffed him to a chair and began the interrogation.

“Who are you?”

The prisoner stared at Hank, silent as a mute.

“I know you’re not local. Where did you come from?”

More silence.

He picked up a wallet from the table between them and pulled out a driver’s license.

“Brandon, right? Your I.D. says Knoxville. What are you doing here?”

More staring.

“You killed five people tonight. One of them was my deputy.”

The prisoner’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I didn’t kill anybody.”

“They had families. They didn’t do anything to you. You murdered them!” Hank shoved the table aside and grabbed the criminal’s collar, their faces now inches apart. “You killed them just so you and your buddies could get high on goddamn pain pills!”

“I was just supposed to grab the meds! That’s all! I didn’t shoot nobody!”

Hank shoved the prisoner’s chair back against a cinderblock wall. “I’ll see you fry for this.”

“I told you, man. I didn’t shoot nobody!”

Hank resumed his composure. “I don’t give a shit. The D.A. won’t give a shit either, but he might if you tell us where your buddies in the trucks are.”

“They’re not my buddies.”

“Tell it to the judge.”

 “I didn’t have a choice. They have my parents.” He sobbed. “We tried to get away, but they caught us.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know who they are. They just took us. They have my mom and dad. My dad’s a doctor. They made him write a list of meds they wanted. They kept my parents at the hotel and I was supposed to get the stuff on the list. They promised to let us go if I came back with the stuff on the list.”

“The people that have your parents are in a hotel?”

“Yeah. They took it over. It’s outside Knoxville.”

“What kind of medicines are on the list?”

“Antibiotics, pain meds, heart pills. You name it.” The teenager nodded to his jacket. “Look for yourself. The list is in my pocket.”

Hank carefully reached in and pulled a crumpled paper from the youth’s jacket pocket. On it was a list of medicines, most of which he couldn’t pronounce.

The boy said, “We were all scared after the President got killed and the Capitol burned. Everything was so quiet. Then the banks shut down. Everything changed. The Food Stamp riots. The Looting. The killing. It was all over the news. My parents told me not to leave the house, but I sneaked out to the convenience store down the street for some chips and soda. I’d eaten all we had and didn’t know how long the stores would stay open.  It was weird. People were everywhere.  Yelling and fighting. I hid in the shadows. They were robbing anybody they saw, especially anybody dumb enough to go out alone. They were like animals. It was like another country.”

His eyes glazed as his vision turned inward, reliving the events he described. “When I got close to the store, a car pulled up. Some guys got out and threw a chunk of concrete through the window. They went in. I hid in some bushes when the gunshots started. They lit the inside of the store up like a strobe light. The guys came out with their arms full of stuff and sped off. Then more people came. On foot, in cars. More and more of them. They just walked in and took stuff. They picked the place clean, then they turned on each other. I saw a woman shot in the street over a can of beans and left there to die. I just laid there in the bushes. Watching. Shivering. It was so cold.”

The boy took a deep breath before speaking again.  “That’s when I noticed the fires.  Must have been a hundred of them. I could see the glow for miles in every direction. I ran home after that.”

Hank asked, “What about the police?”

“The cops tried to stop it at first, but then gave up and went home. They got families of their own to worry about.”

“How did you end up in my town?”

“Somebody broke into our neighbors’ house. We heard screams. Then shots. No more screams after that. We grabbed food and clothes and got in the car. Mom and Dad have a cabin in Gatlinburg. We were trying to get there, but the road was blocked outside of town. They pretended to be cops. Dad didn’t fall for it. He hit the gas. They started shooting. We went into a ditch. Dad broke his leg.”

The boy’s lip began to quiver. “They pulled us out of the car and took everything we had. They were about to shoot us when one of them found Dad’s hospital I.D. card in his wallet. It saved our lives.”

“Why?”

“Dad is a doctor. They thought it might be good to have one around. Mom and I were the leverage they needed to keep him in line.”

“How did you end up in my town?”

“The list. We came east from the base, hitting every pharmacy and grocery store within a mile of the interstate. Your town was the last stop.”

“You said the others are in hotel west of here. How many of them are there?”

“Twenty. Thirty. Maybe more.”

“Can you show me where it is on a map?”

“Why? What are you gonna do? Arrest ‘em all?  You really don’t get it, do you? It’s gone, man. It’s all gone.”

“What’s gone?”

“Knoxville. Everything. It’s survival of the fittest now. There ain’t no law no more. Hell, one of the guys you just shot at the Walmart was a cop. This is the apocalypse, man. The smart people are collecting all the stuff they can. Guns, drugs, gas, food.” He looked at the badge on Hank’s chest. “That thing don’t mean shit no more.
They
are the law now. You and your town are gone too. You just don’t know it yet.”

Hank gave the room’s only door a knock and said to the deputy on duty, “Put him in a cell.”

“Yes, Sheriff.” The deputy entered and dragged Brandon out of the room.

Hank walked across the street to the courthouse. His office occupied the top floor of the old brick building. Three stories high, it was built in the nineteen-thirties. Hank wondered how the old folks could afford to build such a thing the middle of the Great Depression. Four generations later, the county couldn’t even afford to put new windows in it.

A coal train thundered along the dark tracks on the north side of the courthouse, carrying the black fuel somewhere to the east. Its rumbling bulk blocked Hank’s view of the annex, where the mayor’s office was located. Looking between the cars, he saw that the parking lot was empty and the lights were off. At least somebody was getting some sleep.

Hank returned his attention to the courthouse. The remaining leaves in the massive oak tree that towered over the building rustled in the autumn air. The front lawn was decorated with more trees, illuminated memorials, and an American flag flying high above it all from a steel pole in the center of the space.

His family had bled for this place.

There was a memorial honoring the county’s war dead. It was a polished white stone. The flags of each service branch popped angrily in the wind over it like echoes of conflicts past. Hank’s father’s name was on it. He was killed in Vietnam when Hank was just a kid.

There was also a monument to the county’s fallen police officers. Another, smaller polished monolith. This one had names, too. One of them belonged to his son, Henry.

He touched the name. The cold stone was all he had left of his boy. It was also all Maggie had left of her father.

Yes, his family had bled.

Christmas decorations lined the quite streets of downtown Freeport. Colorful light fixtures in shapes of wreaths, candles, snowflakes, and angels were fixed to every light pole on Main Street. They were up earlier than usual. The city hoped to jumpstart Christmas shopping and boost the local economy with the festive display. It wasn’t working.

Barely a car was on the street. It was like this every night after nine o’clock, even on weekends. Hank surveyed the hardware stores, banks, lawyers’ offices, and the coffee shop. Small town America at its best. This was why he and Betty came back home all those years ago. There may be no secrets in small towns, but there are no strangers either. Hank liked that.

He took the stairs up to his office and pulled a change of uniform from a metal cabinet.

Gunny appear by the office door.

“You look like shit, Hank.”

Hank poured himself a cup of coffee. “So do you.”

“I’ve been shot. What’s your excuse?”

“I thought I told you to get that leg looked at.”

“I did. It’s good to go.” He limped over to Hank. “We finished up at the store. No more bad guys, but a helluva mess. You get anything out of the perp?”

“The gang he was with is out of Knoxville. He said they’re looting up and down the Interstate.”

“Speakin’ of the interstate, we got reports of homemade bombs on I-40 between here and Knoxville.” Gunny sat down and propped his wounded leg up on a chair. “The national state of emergency is bumped up to level three. Banks are still closed, too.”

“Level three? That’ll shut the whole country down.”

“Goes into effect two hours from now. The Feds shut down all interstate, sea, air, and rail travel.”

“That explains why the train was going so fast through town. What about the election? It’s just two days away.”

“Cancelled.”

Hank froze.

Gunny continued, “They announced it a little after midnight.”

“Who called it off?”

“Homeland Security. Said it’s too dangerous right now. They also said to be on the lookout for a group called the American Constitutional Front.”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“Me neither. DHS expects more right-wing domestic terror plots in the next few days.” He held up a binder with the Department of Homeland Security Logo on it. “We’re followin’ the drill. We put a dusk-to-dawn curfew in place.”

“Any word how long it will last?”

“Nope, but if nine-eleven was any indication, I’m guessin’ at least a week.”

“Have we heard from any other counties?”

“Just bits of radio traffic from squad cars in Jefferson County now and then. They sound about like us.”

“What about Knoxville?”

“Nothing.”

“I want all grocery stores and pharmacies closed immediately. With logistics and transportation shut down, we may have to make supplies last.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Show me what a motivated marine can do.”

“Hank.” Gunny’s voice carried the same foreboding note it had the night before at the pharmacy.

“Yeah?”

“This whole thing stinks.”

“I know, but we’ll get through it. This too shall pass.”

“Not this time, Hank. They finally did it. Now we’re all screwed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is the Great Depression, the Kennedy Assassination, and Nine-Eleven all at once. It’s not an accident, Hank. It’s a plan. The sons of bitches have been settin’ us up for years and they finally did it. There won’t be an America no more. At least not the one we know. Mark my words. These are just the opening moves.”