Legion of Despair: Book Three in The Borrowed World Series (27 page)

“Looks clear,” Will said. “I don’t see anything.”

“Then hit it,” Gary said. “Keep moving.”

Will pulled onto the highway without incident. Gary came next. He drove slowly and saw the blood-smeared asphalt where he and Alice had encountered the men asking that a toll be paid. He scanned his mirrors and saw each trailing vehicle enter the highway without incident.

“We’re all good,” Gary said into the radio. “Let’s crank it up to about forty-five miles per hour. Will, if you see anything in the roadway, go ahead and stop so we can check it out. We’ve got to watch for traps.”

“Roger that,” Will said.

In a few minutes, they passed the office complex where Gary, Jim, and Alice worked and where Gary had gotten the truck. Immediately beyond it, they passed the armory where people on the grounds stopped what they were doing to watch the convoy move past. Gary watched in his mirrors to see if anyone came out and attempted to pursue them. He had no reason in particular to think that they might, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Any moving vehicle with fuel, any truck that might be carrying food or supplies, could be targeted.

“Alice?” Gary said into his radio. “Anyone pull onto the road behind you?”

“Nope,” she replied. “Highway is clear behind me.”

“Perfect,” Gary said. “Everyone keep your eyes open. Let me know if you see anything concerning.”

They crossed the county line, leaving Tazewell County behind and entering Russell County. They passed through a community known as Belfast, seeing houses at a distance but no one out moving around. The kept their vehicles at the appointed speed, continuing to the open pastures of the Rosedale area. Gary picked up his radio.

“Jim said we might hit a police roadblock at the intersection up here where the traffic light is,” Gary said. “I don’t expect any trouble, but we need to be ready for anything. Even if it’s manned by cops, that doesn’t mean there won’t be trouble. Once we get past this intersection, it’s another fifteen minutes or so to Jim’s place.”

As they approached the non-functioning traffic light, Will slowed. “I can see some kind of obstruction up there,” Will said into his radio.

“I see it,” Gary said. “Looks like a MRAP or something. Slow it down a little.” An MRAP was a military surplus Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle. A lot of law enforcement agencies had been obtaining them since the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan had been slowing down.

“Whatever is going on here, we’ve got no choice but to go through this intersection,” Gary said. “Drive slowly, all of you keep your hands on your steering wheels and in sight. If there’s a cop there, don’t give him any reason to shoot you. We’ll just have to play this one by ear. If we’re cool, he should be cool.”

Gary didn’t know if the pep talk was for his family or himself. He didn’t feel like he had anything to hide, but he still felt uneasy. Just being on the road again, being away from home, brought back all of the anxiety of his journey home with Jim.

Approaching closer, he could definitely see that there was an MRAP sitting beside the intersection. There were concrete Jersey barriers placed through the intersection to slow and funnel traffic through a narrow choke point. They didn’t block the intersection completely, only forced drivers to slow down and go through single-file. From the impact craters on the concrete barriers, it was evident that not everyone had seen fit to comply with the request to stop. There were several four-foot long sections of concrete culvert placed on end behind the Jersey barriers.

Gary tried to understand what the upended culverts were for. He figured it out pretty quickly when a helmeted figure popped up out of the culvert and leveled an Israeli Tavor rifle at his group.

“Easy everyone,” Gary said into his radio. “I’m going to handle this. Everybody stay cool.”

Gary got out of his truck, raised his hands over his head, and stepped to the front of the vehicle. The figure in helmet and goggles followed him with the rifle. Gary couldn’t help but admire the culvert idea. All the man had to do was duck back down and he was surrounded by a barrier that would stop most small arms fire. It was like a rodeo clown ducking into a barrel to hide from the bull. He would have to get a couple of those.

“Are you Travis?” Gary asked.

“Who’s asking?” the man replied.

“My name is Gary Sullivan. My family is in these vehicles.”

“Sullivan,” Travis said, thinking. “There was a Sullivan working at the county offices. Any relation?”

“No, I don’t have any family over this way,” Gary said. “So you
are
Travis?”

“Why would you think my name is Travis?” the man asked. “I don’t know you.”

“My friend Jim Powell lives about fifteen minutes from here,” Gary explained. “He and I just walked back from Richmond together a few days ago. My family and I have had some trouble at home and Jim offered us a place to stay until things get back to normal.”

The man hopped out of the culvert and approached the convoy of vehicles. Gary could see now that the man had a Virginia State Police patch on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Tell everyone to keep their hands visible,” he instructed.

“Already did,” Gary said.

“We’re off to a good start then. Are you armed?”

“Of course. Everyone, including me, is carrying a concealed weapon and they have permits to do so,” Gary said. “Is that a problem?”

“Not as long as they keep their hands clear of those weapons,” the Trooper replied.

“So you are Travis, right?” Gary asked yet again.

The man finally nodded. “I am. Jim and I grew up together. I’ve known him a long damn time.”

“He and I have been friends for about twenty-five years,” Gary said, smiling.

“I never said we were friends, or that I liked him,” Travis said, moving up the line of vehicles and looking inside each of them. “The sneaky bastard always seemed like he was up to something. What kind of trouble did you run into back at your home? Must be bad if you’re bugging out.”

“Looters and thieves, I guess you’d call them,” Gary said. “They kept trying to break into our house. It got to where we couldn’t even go outside without some kind of run-in. Last night they killed my son-in-law in the front yard. We just buried him before we left this morning.”

The trooper nodded, continuing to move along the line of vehicles, scanning both the contents of the vehicle and the person driving it. When he got to Debra’s vehicle, he stopped by the passenger window and stared at Charlotte. Her eyes were swollen from crying and she still moaned with the pain of loss, though exhaustion had sapped some of the fury from it.

“There’s a lot of shitheads out in the world right now,” the trooper said.

“That’s a fact,” Gary said.

“Where did you get the fuel for your trip? It hasn’t been available to civilians for several weeks.”

“It’s what we had at home,” Gary said. “I was out of town when the crap hit the fan and I walked home with Jim. My family didn’t drive anywhere while I was gone. They were afraid to even leave the house. We’re using every last bit of fuel we have for this trip.”

Travis nodded, seemingly satisfied with that response. “One last question,” he said. “Why are you driving a vehicle with Local Government Use Only tags on it?”

That question took Gary completely by surprise. He’d not considered that there may be some fallout from using a public vehicle for his private move. In the scheme of things, it seemed a minor detail. Leave it to a cop to notice something like that.

He decided that honesty was easiest. “Jim and I work at the mental health agency together. He lent me the vehicle. It’s from his division.”

The trooper considered this. “I’m not sure that the law allows him to lend a public vehicle for private use. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure that the law strictly forbids it.”

“Look,” Gary said, “we’re just trying to get moved. The truck is full of my personal belongings. I’m going to take it back once this mess is all over. It’s probably even safer with me than it would be back at the office. You could probably even say that I’m assisting the Commonwealth of Virginia in preserving one of its assets.”

The trooper looked Gary in the eye. He knew BS when he heard it, but he appreciated it when it was used skillfully. “How do I know it’s full of your personal belongings? How do I know that you didn’t steal a bunch of food and fuel from your work? Supplies paid for with public money? You prove to me that it’s your personal belongings in there and I’ll let you through.”

“Look if you want to,” Gary said, frustrated now. “We’ve got nothing to hide. We’re just trying to get moved. We’ve had a really bad night and today hasn’t been so hot either. We just want to get to our destination.”

The trooper slung his rifle over his shoulder. “I’ll take you at your word about borrowing the truck,” he said. “I still need to look in the back. If it’s full of personal stuff and not stolen goods, you’ll be free to go on your way. If I see any property tags indicating that the contents are state property, I’m confiscating the truck and everything in it.”

“Fair enough,” Gary said. “Knock yourself out.”

Gary led the trooper to the back of the vehicle and reached for the handle on the sliding door. The trooper put out a hand to stop him.

“I think I can take care of that,” he said.

Gary raised both hands and stepped back. “Sorry, just trying to help.” He had no idea what he was going to do if this went south. Was he willing to kill this trooper? He wasn’t sure he could do that.

“You can help me by going back there and standing by that next vehicle,” Travis instructed. “I don’t turn my back on people I don’t know.”

Gary did as he was told, walking back and standing by Debra’s window.

“Everything going okay?” she asked.

“I have no idea. This guy is a jerk,” Gary replied. “I think he’s just hassling us because he’s bored. I don’t know what he’s getting out of it.”

“Did you tell him that you were friends with Jim?”

Gary nodded. “Yeah, and I’m not sure that it helped. As a matter of fact, I think it may have had the opposite effect.”

Debra grimaced. “Sorry. Jim can have that effect on people.”

Gary shrugged. There was nothing that could be done about it now.

The trooper’s rifle slid awkwardly from his shoulder as he leaned over to open the back door the truck. He unslung his rifle and propped it against the bumper, threw the heavy steel latch on the door, and tugged on the canvas strap that lifted the door. As the door rose, no one noticed the black clad figure standing in the darkened interior until it was too late.

Travis shaded his eyes to better see inside the truck. When his eyes adjusted and he saw the grinning skull face of the tactical mask, his hand dropped to his pistol and he opened his mouth to say something. It was then that everyone noticed that the masked man was holding a shotgun. The trooper yelled and began to draw his sidearm but it was too late. The skull-faced man pulled the trigger once, then twice, each shot pushing Travis further back.

Despite the mask, Gary recognized the hair. He recognized the eyes. It was Molloy. Somehow he’d slipped into the back of the truck during the confusion of the night. He was planning to go with them to their new home.

Stunned, Gary reacted, crouching beside the vehicle and drawing his Glock. The gunman noticed Gary’s movement and pointed the shotgun in his direction, firing off another round. Gary ducked and the windshield shattered. He popped back up, leveled his Glock across Debra’s hood and fired four times, each shot striking the black figure center mass. He twisted and jerked, dropping the shotgun. As he fell, he sagged to the truck bed, then slithered out the door onto the pavement. Gary stepped out of cover, keeping his gun leveled at the black figure. He saw no movement.

There was a scream behind him. Karen had heard the shot and run to her mother’s aid, finding the shattered windshield and two bodies covered in glass fragments.

“Mom?” Karen cried.

Gary ran back to the car and flung open the driver’s door. “Debra, are you okay?”

Debra rose slowly, glass fragments raining down from her. “I’m okay. Check Charlotte.”

Gary ran to the other side of the car. “Charlotte! Baby, are you okay? Charlotte?”

She didn’t move.

Gary pulled her door open and touched her shoulder.

“Charlotte!”

Karen was helping Debra brush the glass from her hair and out of her clothes.

“Tell me my baby is okay, Gary,” Debra pleaded. “Tell me she’s okay.”

Gary grabbed Charlotte by the shoulders and pulled her from the vehicle. Glass scratched and sliced at his fingers and the palms of his hands. He lay Charlotte on her back and brushed glass from her face and hair. He didn’t see any blood but her eyes were closed and she was unresponsive. Alice was suddenly at his side with Sara. They were watching him in silence. He noticed Will in his peripheral vision, checking the dead man, then joining them also.

“Charlotte, are you okay?” Gary asked, his voice breaking. “Please, baby, are you okay?”

Her face screwed into a mask of pain and a furious scream erupted from her. Gary recoiled from the intensity of it, realizing it meant she was alive. It was like the first cry of a baby, the indication that the child survived birth. He began sobbing. Debra, finally free of glass, came running around the vehicle. She dropped to her knees and hugged her daughter.