Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (34 page)

“We’re on it, Mr. Pete,” said Corbin. Marcus looked over the edge and added his support, “All eyes are watching Sergeant Major.”

“Well then quit looking at me,” replied Pete, with much less of an edge than he felt. Then, with a heavy sigh, he walked into the kitchen.

“Still no word from John?” asked Jenna.

Pete shook his head. He didn’t want to scare Jenna, but he knew something was wrong. It wasn’t like John to exceed his schedule by a single minute, let alone more than ten minutes. Pete knew John was, almost to a fault, a man of his word. If John said he was going to do something, then he did it. And if John said he was going to be somewhere and at a certain time, he was always early.

Pete began to pace the kitchen and stopped when he thought of something. He looked at Jenna and asked, “Jenna, can you open John’s gun safe?”

“I’ve got a spare key, but I don’t remember the combination. I never have to open it. Why? Is something wrong?” she asked, as she sat the measuring cup she was holding down on the countertop.

“I just have a feeling that we may need a little more firepower,” replied Pete, as he tried very hard to sound casual.

“What’s going on, Pete? Something’s bothering you?” said Bonnie, from the far end of the kitchen counter. She had just sealed up another Mylar bag with a hot flatiron, and looked at Pete with concern, mingled with curiosity

“Trouble,” said Pete, and he began to pace again.

Jenna and Bonnie asked simultaneously, “What kind of trouble?”

Pete stopped and held up a hand. “Wait,” he said. “I need to sit down for a minute and think.” Pete walked into the family room and sat down in John’s recliner. He laid his head back and closed his eyes.

The women looked at each other. Bonnie shrugged and asked. “Do you think it’s something about John?”

Jenna looked at Pete as he sat in the recliner. At first he looked tense and ready to fight, but then, as she continued to watch him, she saw something about him change. He relaxed. It looked like he had fallen asleep, but then he opened his eyes and just lay there. Still, Jenna noticed a change, and wondered what it was.

She was about to ask Pete what had just happened when she felt John standing next to her. She turned, but didn’t see him, and then shook her head in surprise. Then she felt, more than heard, a calming message as it reached her heart, “Jenna, I’m safe. I love you.”

Jenna smiled and brushed newly forming tears from her eyes. She picked up her measuring cup and said, “He’s OK. I know he’s OK.”

Pete stood and walked to the counter. “I do too. John’s fine. He’s safe.”

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” asked Jenna with a smile.

Pete looked at her with surprise and asked, “Why? Did you feel something?”

Jenna nodded, but said nothing more. Pete looked at Bonnie and said, “I know this sounds crazy, but I think John just told me he’s safe, and that the motorcycle gang is on its way,” said Pete.

Bonnie looked at Pete and asked, “Is this another one of those overpass things?”

“Overpass thing?” asked Marissa.

“Exactly,” said Pete. “Well, not exactly.”

“Well what is it,” asked Bonnie, “exactly or not exactly?”

“It’s the same feeling. So yes, exactly, but it was different. I’m just saying that we need to get ready for the gang, and right now,” said Pete.

“OK,” said Jenna. “What do you want us to do?”

Pete just managed to position everyone around the house when the sound of approaching motorcycles reached their ears. The heavy rumbling of bike engines vibrated the plywood panels over the downstairs windows, and chimed the crystal pedals on the dining room chandelier. Pete yelled down from the top of the stairs, “Remember what I said, don’t fire unless I say, even if they fire at us first. Is everyone set?”

“One, roger!” yelled Paul from the kitchen. He was armed with a shotgun and tasked to cover the mud room entrance, and observe the west side of the house. He was also to respond to any breach attempt at the back door.

“Two, roger!” yelled Adam from the alcove. His task was to cover the front yard with Pete’s 7.62 AR. Corbin was also in the alcove and armed with Adam’s 5.56 AR. Marcus was to serve as the ammo bearer, but Pete also gave him a shotgun to cover the murder hole if needed. The three boys were in the safest part of the house when lead started to fly, and that’s exactly why Pete had them there. He already removed the alcove window, but with the biker gang approaching he also pulled down the heavy blanket.

From his position at the top of the stairs, Pete could see over the top of the bunker well enough to see the street and know how the bikers arrived. His position was good for command and control, but he was prepared to engage the enemy, with his scoped M1A, from any of the already opened upstairs windows. He gave Marcus a thumbs-up sign just as the next report came in.

“Three, roger!” yelled Jenna from the master bedroom. She was armed with only her pistol, but more importantly, she was to monitor all activity on the east side of the property. Not long after Darrel tried to force his way into their house, John had taken a Rotozip and cut small openings into a few of the strategically placed plywood panels on the downstairs windows. What the holes compromised for security, they made up for in observation. And right now, that’s what they needed more than anything, observation.

“Roger . . . four!” yelled Bonnie. She had two openings to cover, and both looked out into the back yard. The order was that each person would call out the enemy threats by number when they saw them, but Pete was to decide when and where to engage up to the “fire-at-will” order was given.

“Five, roger!” yelled Abby. She was armed with Pete’s pistol, and it was her job to protect Marissa’s two younger children, Michael and Anthony. Though the pantry was in the center of the house, and built to withstand an F2 tornado, it wasn’t designed to stop a high-velocity bullet, so Pete told them to stay low. But if John’s report was accurate, the biker’s had only one high-velocity rifle. The rest
of their weapons were pistols and shotguns, which shouldn’t reach the pantry. Pete was confident the rock façade on the lower half of the house was more than sufficient to protect them from most of the flying lead. Essentially, he was the only one openly exposed to enemy fire, which was by design.

“Six, roger!” replied Pete for the rest of the group. He was their commander, and the commander was always six. Lastly, he called out to Marissa, “Medic . . . are you ready?”

“Medic, ready,” yelled Marissa. It was her job to care for any of the wounded. Pete wanted her to stay in the pantry with her children, but she wouldn’t hear of it. However, she did hover near the pantry door. Her first aid kit was a plastic grocery bag filled with bandages, tape, a tourniquet, antiseptic, and a few other necessary emergency medical supplies.

“Good. OK, we’re all set,” yelled Pete to the group. “Now remember, don’t let anything they say bother you. They’re going to say a lot of ugly things, but we’re in control. And remember, anyone holding a fire bomb is a priority target. You take the left most target and I’ll take the right. Then we’ll work our way towards the center. Understood?”

“Affirmative,” said Adam. “Are you ready for my report?”

“Yes,” said Pete. “Send it!”

“OK, I count sixteen motorcycles and sixteen tangos,” said Adam.

“And female bikers?” asked Pete.

“Nope. I don’t see any,” said Adam. “Blackbeard is waving around his machete and . . .” The sound of the motorcycles immediately ceased and Adam adjusted his volume in stride “. . . he just dropped his arm. I guess that was the signal for them to stop their engines,” finished Adam.

“Weapons?” asked Pete.

“They’re all armed,” said Adam. “They have shotguns and pistols, but I see the guy with the AR. He’s staying in the back.”

“OK. Keep me updated on that guy’s position if it changes. Do you see any firebombs?” asked Pete.

“No,” said Adam, “but almost all the bikes have saddle bags, so I’m guessing that’s where they might be. Oh wait, someone’s coming down the path.”

“A parlay?” asked Pete.

“A what?” Adam replied.

“A parlay . . . a chat. Does it look like they want to talk?” replied Pete.

“Oh. Yeah, it looks like he wants to talk. He’s holding a white rag in the air,” said Adam.

“I’m coming downstairs. Tell him to stop when he reaches the halfway point on the walkway,” said Pete, as he made his way to the front door. “Marcus! I need you to come down here and handle the door brace when I go out to meet that guy.”

“You want me to lock you out there . . . with them?” asked Marcus, surprised and scared.

“No, but I want you to stand ready to lock me out. Adam, is everyone staying put?”

“Pretty much. They’re standing or lounging against their bikes,” replied Adam. He then yelled, “Halt! Stop right there!” in a surprisingly adult command voice. The biker replied with some comment that Pete didn’t hear.

“What’d he say?”

“He said he wants to talk,” answered Adam.

Pete raised the first brace and unlocked the door, but he didn’t open it. “Adam, keep an eye on the guy with the AR. At the first shots fired I’m running back in, so keep the door open.”

Pete then turned to Marcus and said, “But if I hit the ground, Adam, have Marcus close and brace the door immediately. You got it?”

Adam replied, “Roger, that.”

Pete saw that Marcus looked terrified, so he rested a hand on the boy’s shoulders and said, “Everything will be fine. Just stay calm and keep a level head about you. You’re a Soldier now.” Marcus nodded, but his eyes were wide with fear. Pete knew he needed more reassurance, so he said, “They’re not coming in this house. I promise you that.” He
hugged the boy and said, “Now go get me Abby’s pistol,” as he turned to look out the peephole.

Marcus returned carrying the pistol and magazine in different hands. Pete nodded and said, “Good man. Did you load the ejected round in the magazine?”

“Abby did.”

“Good enough.” Pete slid the magazine home, chambered a round, and then slid the pistol into his waistband at the small of his back. “OK. Let’s do this,” he said, and grabbed his rifle as he stepped out. Pete stopped ten feet away from the man, carefully keeping his rifle pointed at his chest from the hip. He tried to make it look casual, but he could tell the biker knew the threat it posed. Pete eyed the man and asked, “What do you want?”

The man turned briefly to look at his leader, but then he turned back to face Pete. “Is your name, Paul?”

“What’s it to you?” replied Pete, as he pushed the M1A’s safety lever forward, which was conveniently located within the trigger guard. The loud click of the action made the man flinch, and Pete smiled as he rested his finger on the trigger.

“Well, it’s real easy. You give us Paul, and we’ll give you John,” said the man.

“I don’t see John,” said Pete. “Where is he?”

“Oh, he’s safe enough . . . for now. But if you want to see him again you’ll give us Paul.”

“I’ll tell you what, you go get John. You let me see him, see that he’s alive and well, and then we’ll talk,” answered Pete.

The man shrugged and turned around. He walked up to the leader and the two exchanged a few brief words that Pete couldn’t hear. A moment later the leader pointed his finger at two men and motioned them away with a wave. The two men mounted their bikes, started them up, and drove out of the neighborhood. When they were gone, the messenger returned and stopped where he had earlier talked with Pete. When he didn’t speak, Pete asked, “Now what?”

“You’ll see John in a few minutes,” said the man.

“Does your boss have a voice?” asked Pete.

“He’s not a foolish man. He’ll talk with you, but not while you’re carrying that elephant gun.”

“I’ll drop the rifle if he agrees to talk to me,” said Pete.

“Fair enough,” said the man, and he turned to walk back to his boss.

Pete backed up to the house, then slid in through the door and closed it. “Paul, did you hear any of that exchange?” asked Pete when he entered.

“No,” said Paul. “Why? What did he say?”

“They’re willing to trade you for John,” said Pete.

“Crap! They have John,” said Paul, visibly upset.

“It’s OK, Paul, now listen, we’re not trading you for John. It never works that way. I just want you to know what we’re up against. Now I’m confident John is fine, and supposedly two bikers just went to bring him here. But I have a feeling they won’t return,” said Pete.

Paul looked at him strangely, but Pete continued, “I don’t know how I know John is safe, I just do. Anyway, we need to make plans to deal with these guys, and I’m thinking the only thing they understand is violence. I’m trying to arrange a parlay with the leader . . .”

“Parlay?” said Paul.

“A talk . . . I’m trying to arrange a
talk
with their leader. I want to see if I can get close enough to take him hostage,” said Pete.

“What? Are you crazy? That will never work. The guy’s a giant.”

“Well, he’s big, but I think I can handle him. Anyway, I’m going to talk with him and see what plays out. The way I see it, we have about thirty minutes before they return with John, so we have time to resolve some of this problem,” finished Pete.

“OK, but if you get taken out I don’t think we’ll make it on our own.”

“I disagree,” snapped Pete. “You’re more than capable of defending this house without me. But I’m not gone yet. We can do this, Paul.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not afraid, but I am worried for the rest of us,” explained Paul.

“And you should be. These guys don’t play nice. They’re one-percenter’s for a reason. So let’s get into their decision making cycle and see if we can tip the scales in our favor,” said Pete. He handed Paul his rifle and said, “Hold this for me.”

Pete checked the pistol at the small of his back and said, “I’m gonna go talk to this guy again, but I don’t know how it’s gonna play out, so stay alert and keep the door open. If I’ve got Blackbeard as a hostage, remove the second door brace so I can back in quickly. Adam will keep you informed. Got it?”

“Everything,” said Paul.