In the Woods (28 page)

Slader stood at attention, raised an eyebrow. Sweat beaded on his forehead. ‘What kind of question is that? I’m your sector chief.’

‘Our sector chief?’ Josh turned to the group. ‘Slader’s a gosh-darned police captain. Why didn’t any of us realize it before? Slader isn’t one of us. He’s the fricking law – he’s part of the establishment—’

‘That’s not true. This is my home—’

‘—and he represents the government. Why else would he keep telling us to lie low and take it?’

‘I’ve protected us and our interests—’

‘And you’ve told us to do nothing but lie low and write letters to our congressman. Well, we’re fed up, Slader. Finished. Done with you and your two-faced attempts to hold us back. I say, it’s time to stop pussyfooting and go to war!’

Cheers interrupted him. He put his hands up again, calling for quiet. ‘Outsiders have come to take our land. They’ve blown it up, raping it to satisfy their greed, stealing its treasures. They’ve been poisoning us, killing us slowly, one by one, and now they’re picking things up, conspiring, setting off bombs, shooting folks. The only way to stop them is to show them we won’t take it anymore. That we’ll crush anyone who messes with us, starting with the conspirators we’ve got in the hole—’

A low murmur rumbled among the crowd.

‘—and moving onto the rest of the invaders who come here to shatter the earth and poison our water and take our forest.’

The murmur built, gathering energy and density.

‘We have no choice. They’ve pushed us to the brink. It’s time we take a stand and spill some blood. Who’s with me?’

Cheers erupted in a roar. People were on their feet, clamoring around Josh, declaring him their new leader, shouting that they were with him.

The sector chief stood on his crate, watching the fervor. ‘This is wrong,’ he shouted. ‘We’re out-manned. Out gunned. You’re making a mistake.’

No one seemed to notice him.

He looked across the room, searching faces. For Mavis. She lusted for him, could never get enough of him. Surely now, when he needed her support, she would stand with him. There she was – he looked at her, met her eyes.

Mavis bit her lip and turned away, leading her pack of women toward Josh. The captain felt a stab. Took a breath. Raised his chin.

At least Hiram was still at his side. Hiram had clout. He would speak for him, sway everyone, bring them back to their senses. The captain turned to him.

Hiram shrugged, shook his head, and moved aside to make room for Moose and Ax. Unbelievably, they were coming for him, their jaws set and gazes cold.

‘Moose,’ he said. ‘Ax? What can I do for you?’

But they didn’t answer. Didn’t say anything. Just took hold of his arms.

Stunned, the chief stepped off the crate, didn’t resist as Ax and Moose took his gun and led him away. He stood tall, facing them with dignity and poise, but inside he crumbled to his knees, knowing how it felt to be Caesar, betrayed by his closest friends.

Harper climbed down from the pile of cots. ‘They’re coming.’ She scanned the room. ‘We’ve got to do something.’

‘Like what?’ Jim was jittery again, shifted his weight from foot to foot. ‘What do you mean, “they’re coming”? What did you hear?’

‘What are we supposed to do?’ Angela’s mouth dropped. ‘I can’t even walk.’

‘Harper?’ Jim crossed his arms, uncrossed them.

Harper was distracted as she answered. Her mind was on defense. On coming up with a strategy. ‘They’re like a mob.’ She examined the ceiling, the walls. ‘And they want to use us in some war with the gas company or the government—’

‘War?’ Jim bit a nail. ‘You mean like a stand-off? Like in Waco? Are these people in one of those crazy cults?’

‘All I know is they’re angry and violent. So when they come for us, we’ve got to be ready.’

‘But I can’t even stand,’ Angela wailed. ‘What will happen to me?’

Harper pulled the top cot down, turned it over.

‘How can we be “ready”?’ Jim fretted. ‘What are you doing?’

She began twisting the screws that held the cot’s metal frame together. ‘We need weapons.’

‘Weapons?’ Jim stood over her, clucking and useless. ‘You’re thinking of the cots? The spokes? Are you kidding? They have guns.’

Damn. She couldn’t loosen the screws. She looked around for a tool, saw empty chili cartons, water bottles. A blanket. Some bloodstained clips in Angela’s matted hair. She didn’t ask, just went over to Angela, took a couple of clips.

‘Ouch,’ Angela complained. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’ll give them back.’ Harper slid a silver barrette into the slit on top of the screw, turned it like a screwdriver. The screw didn’t move, but the barrette bent. Damn. She needed to slow down, finesse her movements. She took a breath and tried again with the barrette doubled over. Gently. Finally, even though the barrette was mangled, the screw gave way and came loose.

‘Hold this.’ She handed the screw to Jim, giving him a job.

‘So when are they coming?’ Angela sat up on her cot, hugging herself. ‘Now? What will they do with us?’

Harper ignored her, concentrating. The hatch could open any moment.

Angela kept whimpering. ‘You two can fend for yourselves, but what am I supposed to do? I have a broken ankle and I can’t see straight. I probably have a concussion.’

Harper couldn’t take the time to reply. She focused, working the screws.

Jim watched, perturbed. ‘Seriously.’ Jim eyed the trapdoor in the ceiling. ‘Even if you take them off, how are we supposed to fight guns and rifles with a few metal rods?’

Harper didn’t look up; kept working. ‘You got a better idea?’

Jim was silent, shifted his weight to his other leg, watched the hatch.

‘Point is …’ Harper pulled a leg off the cot, handed it to Jim, who examined it, feeling its tip. ‘They won’t expect us to have any weapons at all. We’ll be able to surprise them. If we can get close enough to knock out somebody or take a hostage or get one gun, we’ll have leverage.’

‘And then what?’ Angela asked. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, I can barely move.’

Harper removed another leg from the cot. She held it, examined the end, its rough edges. If she had time, she could file those edges on the concrete walls, make them sharper. But even as it was, if she placed the rod right, aimed it at an eye or a throat, and if she was able to get enough momentum – well, she could make it work.

Angela fretted, Jim paced, and Harper worked on strategy. They would lay the legless cot on top of another one so no one coming into the room would notice it right away. She and Jim would each conceal metal legs behind them and wait for the right moment to strike. But that’s as far as her strategy went because she didn’t know how many would come for them, where they’d be positioned, or how many weapons they’d have. She needed to plan for a variety of possible scenarios.

She was still formulating the first scenario when the hatch opened. Even before the ladder descended, Angela started begging for mercy, crying that she was a widow who hadn’t done anything to anyone. Harper braced herself. They weren’t ready yet, hadn’t discussed a plan. She shoved her metal rods under a mattress, nodded at Jim, signaling that he should do the same. But damn, it was too late.

The ladder dropped into place and someone yelled down, telling them to keep clear. Jim leaned against the wall, stuffed his metal rod behind his back. Boots descended. Harper focused, adrenalin pumping. Josh had promised to make examples of them, to spill blood. There was no choice but to fight, with or without a plan. She took a breath, thought of Hank and Chloe, and watched legs slowly lower themselves down, revealing hips, then a torso. As soon as the guy’s feet neared the floor, before he could grip or aim his gun, she would pounce, grab his neck, and thrust her skinny metal rod into his throat. Someone might shoot from above, but if she positioned herself right, he’d cover her; the guy would take the bullet.

He was almost down. Harper got ready, picked up the metal bar, held it behind her back. Got to her feet.

‘You’ve got a new room-mate,’ someone called from above.

When the guy’s head came through the hatch, Harper took a step back and dropped her stick onto a cot. Taking him down would do no good, and he would be worthless as a hostage. Wasn’t even a danger to them. When he’d descended the final rungs, the ladder got pulled up, the hatch door slammed shut.

‘You all right?’ Harper asked.

When Captain Slader turned around, his eyes were wild and red, and even though he was looking right at Harper when she spoke, he didn’t answer. He didn’t even seem to hear.

Slader slumped on a cot, head in his hands.

‘Captain Slader?’ Angela shrieked. ‘Oh God – did you come to rescue us? Have you called for backup?’

‘Where’ve you been, Angela?’ Jim’s eyes bulged, staring at Slader. ‘He didn’t come to help us. He’s with the Hunt Club. In fact, he’s their leader.’

‘No, he’s not.’ Angela scowled. ‘He’s the police captain – he’s investigating Phil’s murder. Captain? Tell him. You’ve come to help us, right?’

‘I just told you,’ Jim snapped. ‘You were out of it before. Maybe you didn’t hear. Slader’s one of them—’

‘Impossible.’ Angela’s voice went up an octave. ‘I know him. He arrested my ex-husband. Captain, tell him how you took Stan into custody—’

‘He’s head of the locals.’

‘He was, but not any more.’ Harper flopped down, sat on the cot beside Angela. ‘There’s been a coup.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Jim turned in circles, running his hands through his hair.

‘I’m telling you now: Captain Slader’s been ousted. Now he’s just another prisoner.’

‘Oh God,’ Angela groaned.

The three of them gaped at Slader, who said nothing, just stared at his boots.

‘Okay, enough. We’re wasting time,’ Harper said. ‘They’ll be back for us soon. So let’s get ready.’

‘Ready?’ Angela scoffed. ‘How? Fix our mascara? Pray? Plan our last words?’

‘Shut the fuck up, would you?’ Jim snapped. ‘All you do is bitch and whine.’

‘Yeah? Well, why shouldn’t I? In case you haven’t noticed, I have a broken ankle, my husband’s been murdered, and I’ve been kidnapped by lunatics. I guess I have a right to bitch—’

‘You know what? Your husband’s lucky. At least he doesn’t have to listen to you bitch and moan any more—’

A sharp, skull-rattling whistle interrupted them. As Harper took her fingers away from her mouth, everyone spun around and looked at her; even Slader watched her vaguely through glazed eyes.

‘Okay?’ She stood at attention. ‘We don’t have time for bickering or brooding. Captain Slader – or is it chief? Whatever you call yourself – we need your input. I heard what you said to your people before. The part about being stronger when they work together. Well, that’s true for us, too. Each of us alone is powerless, but all of us together might succeed and get out of here.’ She stepped over to the captain. ‘You in?’

As she spoke, the glassiness in Slader’s eyes cleared and his pupils contracted. Slowly, he got to his feet, stood tall, and faced her. Speaking in a soft, controlled tone, he said, ‘Yes, ma’am. Jennings. I’m in.’

The whistle penetrated the cloud around the captain. The little blonde woman had sent the sound flying and, sharp as an arrow, it had cut into his brain. She belted out words and phrases with the authority of an army officer. Isn’t that what she’d said she was? A lieutenant? Well, no matter what her rank was, it didn’t matter; they were all goners. All dead. The locals had become an angry mob, led by Josh who was nothing but a twisted overgrown delinquent. He wondered what Josh would do to his body. Cut it up? Burn it? Put it on display? And how were they going to kill him? Probably hanging. Or they might shoot him. Might line up all four prisoners and do a firing squad.

The blonde woman was standing over him, firing off words. ‘Each of us alone is powerless,’ she said, ‘but all of us together might succeed.’

Wait. Hold on. That was his rallying cry – the idea that even thin sticks, bound together, would be unbreakable. It was true, and this woman understood. She recognized his wisdom even when his own people had rejected and shunned him.

Well, it wasn’t their fault, really. It was Josh. Josh had turned them against him. Josh. He should have locked him up years ago – animal cruelty. Vandalism. The list went on. Better yet, he should have eliminated Josh altogether, should have shoved him into the bog or the lake, held him under. Or shot him dead in his Bog Man costume, exposing his fakery to the outsiders.

But it was no good thinking about should-haves. It was too late. Josh had taken over. Slader kept seeing it happen, again and again. Mavis – hell. How many nights had he spent in her bed? Yet, when he’d needed her to stand with him, she’d walked away. And Hiram, his oldest friend, had turned his back. And Ax – how many times had he let Ax slide for driving under the influence? And Moose? He’d taught Moose to shoot a rifle – helped him bag his first buck. All of them had abandoned him. Annie, Wade – every single one of them. He couldn’t stop listing the betrayals, seeing the backs turn. But now, this little blonde was talking about unity and power, staring at him. Why? What did she want from him? Couldn’t she see that he was shattered? A broken, bleeding corpse of a man? A failure as a leader? What was the point of her repeating his words? His people would rather follow Josh on a suicide mission than follow him and survive. He was finished. His life over.

But the blonde woman was still watching him. Asking, ‘You in?’

In what? He tried to recall what she’d said. Something to do with the stick thing, probably. Unity. Her eyes were bright, expectant. Strong. Yet they met his with a kind of shyness. No, not shyness. Deference? Yes. And respect. She looked at him the way enlisted men looked at officers, the way he deserved to be looked at. As if she wanted his leadership. He glanced around the room at the other faces. They were all three watching him, all waiting for his reply. These people – this ragtag little band of resistance – needed him.

Slader chewed his lip. Remembering his rules: A good leader responded to the needs of his people. A good leader put his personal needs aside for the sake of others. A true leader didn’t dodge responsibility. Clearly, this little group was crying out for his help. For the sake of others, he would have to absorb the shock and pain of his own loss, muster his strength, rise to the challenge, and respond to the call.