Odd Billy Todd (69 page)

“I think they’s up here,” Kent whispered. “Tracks in the dust. Army boots.”

“Shh,” Rob hissed, motioning for Kent to keep going. The other man nodded, and continued his climb, lifting his rifle as he did so. As he neared the top of the stairs, the hairs on his neck rose. He stopped at once, dead still.

“What?” Rob asked, almost in Kent’s ear. Kent sniffed the air, and then looked back at Rob.

“I can smell’em,” he whispered back. “I think it’s time to call in that calv’ry you was talkin’ ‘bout. Reckon we’re walkin’ right into an ambush.” Rob looked at him for a moment, then sighed. Nodding in agreement, he took out his radio, and turned it on.

“. . .answer me right now, or you can forget any reward for takin’ out that shooter!” Big John’s voice boomed through the building.

“Turn that down!” Kent hissed though his teeth, just as they heard a voice at the top of the stairs.

“Now Billy!”

*****

Pete had watched, holding his breath, as the two edged closer to the landing. He wanted them both out in the open, and clear. They had to take them quickly, and then get moving, in case there was someone nearby.

Even as he watched, the front man stopped, and sniffed the air.

Damn he’s good, Pete thought, dejectedly. They would have to take their. . . .

“. . .answer me right now, or you can forget any reward for takin’ out that shooter!”

“Turn that down!” he heard the man in front hiss. It was now or never Pete decided. He leaped to his feet, bringing his rifle to bear.

“Now, Billy!” he shouted.

The two men on the stairs froze for a split second. Kent’s eyes had just enough time to recognize the threat before Pete’s rifle burped a three round burst into his chest. Rob, caught by surprise at the sight of his cousin being shot, raised his own rifle too slowly. Even as he brought the rifle to bear on Pete, he felt something smash through him.

Kent was right, his last thought came in a rush. There are two of. . . .

“Let’s go!” Pete ordered. The two men returned to their ‘room’ and grabbed their gear. As they ran down the stairs, Pete eyed the radio, and grabbed it in one hand, never slowing. He quickly shut it off, and jammed it into his pocket. The two of them hit the street outside at a run.

Right in the middle of a work detail. The two guards were already alerted, and their rifles raised.

Pete didn’t hesitate. He snapped a three round burst into the man to the left, hoping that Billy would be able to take the man on the right.

He didn’t have to. One of the four prisoners grabbed the man’s rifle, wrenching it from his grasp. Without a pause, the prisoner struck the suddenly disarmed guard, still reeling in shock, in the throat with the butt of his own rifle. The guard collapsed choking and gagging, his larynx crushed.

Pete had his rifle on the other three, while Billy covered the now armed prisoner.

“Reckon you better lower that rifle, friend,” Billy said calmly.

“Jesus, it’s him!” one of the other prisoners exclaimed. “It’s the Shooter!”

“Are all of you prisoners?” Pete asked, his rifle still on them.

“Hell yes! But not no more!” Two of them took off, and nothing Pete did or said could stop them. He looked at the man who had disarmed the guard.

“Look we can’t stay here,” Pete told him. “You need to make up your mind what you’re gonna do.”

“I’m coming with you, if you’re still aimin’ to kill these bastards,” the man snarled. “If not, then I guess I’m staying. At least until I can get my sister.”

“What about you?” Pete asked the other man.

“Better’n the alternative,” he shrugged. “I’m game.”

“Then let’s beat feet!” Pete urged. “Billy, site Three! Take the lead, I’ll take drag. Let’s move!” Pete’s command was all they needed. Billy moved out quick, making tracks in a round about way to one of their stash points. Site Three was a larger stash, with ammunition, food, water, and a first aid kit. By Billy’s reckoning it was about nine blocks away.

Moving carefully but quickly, they negotiated the distance in twenty minutes or so, by Billy’s reckoning. During that time, they saw no one, but that didn’t mean no one saw them, and Billy knew it.

“We can’t stay here,” Pete warned. “Someone may have seen us. We need to grab this gear, and get moving again. You two bear a hand. Once we get where we’re going, we’ll get you some food and water.”

The two freed prisoners grabbed the supplies, and then the four of them were on their way again.

“Billy, find us a hole!” Pete urged.

“Workin’ on it,” Billy replied. He led them further afield into the edge of town. After thirty minutes of non-stop movement, they halted in front of an old Brownstone.

“Look’s good to me,” Billy suggested. Pete nodded his agreement.

“Sweep and clear,” he ordered. Billy nodded, and stepped inside, the others following. Billy was already deep into the house, his tactical light leading the way. The windows still had heavy drapes, and the natural light of day couldn’t penetrate them.

Billy moved upstairs, with Pete covering the ground floor. The two former prisoners remained with him. Soon, Billy was at the head of the stairs again.

“Clear,” he called. “C’mon up.” The others joined him on the second floor. Billy was already in one of the front bedrooms, looking out over the street.

“Look’s clear, for now,” he reported. There was a shot in the distance, then another, followed quickly by two more.

“That’ll be your friends, most like,” Billy drawled.

“They wasn’t our friends,” the armed prisoner retorted. “Ass kissing suck-ups, the both of them. Always trying to get in good with anyone who’d listen. Couple o’ guys had worked out a plan to jump the guards, free ourselves, and them two ratted’em out. Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“Ya’ll sit down,” Billy ordered, motioning to the bed. He reached over and took the rifle from the prisoner before he could stop him.

“I’ll just hang on ta this for ya, next little bit,” he smiled. The man started to object, then shrugged, and sat down.

“Who are you guys, and where are you from?” Pete asked. “More to the point, how’d you wind up here?”

*****

It was hot in the valley. Details had been working for two straight days on the fortifications. Even Terry was pleased with what they had accomplished in such a short amount of time.

Three permanent posts had been put in place. Jerry, Ben, and March had gone into town, and managed to scrounge enough cement to pour thick concrete walls and a roof over the three machine gun positions. The top and outside were then hidden behind a log wall, which was then camouflaged with shrubbery and debris. From a distance of fifty feet, even knowing where they were, spotting them was difficult.

They were divided into two teams, one led by Terry, the other by George. They knew the most about this sort of thing, save for Jerry, who had conceded their greater knowledge at once.

“Forty years ago, boys, or near enough it makes no difference,” the old farmer shook his head.

With the three main positions dug along the only three ways into the valley, the teams took to erecting fighting positions along the roads, and constructing the dead fall roadblocks that Terry had wanted.

The fighting positions were layered dirt and log structures, some covered and some not. Meant to provide cover and concealment, they were scratched out anywhere that the terrain favored such a thing, and well hidden.

The roadblocks were simple, and efficient. Heavy logs were banded together with odd bits of chain and cable, whatever could be scraped together, and placed just off the roadways. Longer lines were then run through the woods to the nearer houses, where they could be hooked to a truck or tractor, and then pulled across the road. They wouldn’t stop a determined attacker, but they would slow them down. Which would give the defenders time to prepare.

By the end of the third day, both men were satisfied that the work was pretty much done.

“We’ll need some extra work, along, and we’ll be adding to these, and improving some of them, as we go, but this is a good base to start from. I know we’re all give out, so I’m calling a day off. We all got chores to see to, and we need some rest.”

“We’ll wait a couple days, get caught up, and then we’ll start some real training. Nothing fancy, just familiarize you with the weapons we’ll be using, and some basic tactics that might help us if we’re attacked.”

“Okay, everybody, let’s fall out and head in.” It as a group of tired people that trekked home that evening. George and Terry stayed behind.

“What you think, George?” Terry asked.

“Well, it looks pretty,” George shrugged. “Terry, you know, better’n I do, this ain’t gonna stop a large, determined force. We can hurt’em, but we’ll never be able to stop’em. Not without more people.”

“I know,” Terry nodded, his voice quiet. “But it’s something. We can’t just sit here. And this stuff,” he nodded to a nearby log wall, “makes them feel more secure. That’s worth a lot, right now. They’re scared. This will help settle them.”

“How you think they’re doing?” George asked. He didn’t have to explain which ‘they’ he was referring to.

“No way to know,” Terry shrugged. “But Pete’s smart. Savy. And don’t sell Billy short. The two of'em make a pretty decent team.” He paused, looking over the fields nearby. “I hope they’re taking it to them,” he added. Turning to look at George, he added;

“We can use all the help we can get, right now.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY

“My name’s Reggie Carroll,” the unarmed man spoke. “I was from Nashville, once upon a time. Now, I don’t rightly know where I’m from. Nowhere, I guess,” he shrugged. “I was tryin’ to make do on my own, after things turned bad. Wasn’t doin’ too bad, but about a month ago I got a little careless. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by this bunch. Been here ever since.”

“I’m Dillon. Dillon Branch. Live over near Center Hill Lake. My sister and I were out foraging when they took us. No way to escape. My sister can’t shoot, and there were too many of them. It was either let them take us, or get her killed. I ain’t so sure I made the right choice, now,” he admitted.

“You’re alive,” Billy shrugged. “So is she, maybe.” Branch looked at Billy for a minute, and nodded.

“Who’re you guys?” he asked.

“Name’s Billy,” was all Billy said. “Came here huntin’, so to speak.”

“I’m Pete,” Pete spoke up. “I clean up after him.” Branch snorted in dark amusement.

“You two got this whole bunch jumpin’ at shadows, I’ll tell you that. There ain’t a lick o’ sense between this whole lot when it comes to facin’ real fightin’ men with an even chance. But there’s a shitload of’em. That’s how they get you. Numbers.”

“And trickery, according to what I hear,” Carroll offered. “Little settlement up the way, Weber I think it is, let a man put up with them for a few days. Next thing they know, few days later, he helps this bunch walk right in on them. Took them all without a shot. Made their way into the day care, and threatened to kill every kid in the place, they didn’t surrender. And that snake in the grass had met everyone by then, so there was no way for part of them to stay hidden and see what they could do. He kept a count, and they kept guns on the kids until everyone was accounted for.” Pete looked at Billy on hearing this.

“Well, that’s one question answered.” Billy nodded, saying nothing.

“How many men do they have locked up down there?” Pete asked. “And what for? Are they willing to fight, if we can get them armed?”

“I don’t know exactly how many,” Branch replied. “They keep it dark in the cells. And separated into small groups. As for what for, all I know is what some of the guards have said. Apparently we’re being sold to someone on a train. No idea what for, though for the women, I can guess.”

“This bunch is. . .well, they’re crazy!” Carroll blurted. “Did you. . .did you know they eat people?”

“We heard the rumor,” was all Pete would say.

“It ain’t no rumor,” Branch said thickly. “At first, from what I’ve heard, they did it to survive. Now, they got to where they like it. Been several prisoners go missing of late. No one wants to ask what happened to them. Afraid of the answer.”

“I ‘magine,” Billy snorted. “Don’t blame’em none, either.”

“What are you two doing here, anyway?” Carroll asked. “Are you from the government? Come to rescue us?” Hope filled his face, and Pete almost sighed.

“You oughta know by now, there ain’t no government any more,” Pete told him gently. “None except what we make. As to what we’re doing here, well, we’re buying time. And trying to keep this bunch penned in as long as we can.” Billy frowned, but said nothing. He wasn’t sure they should be telling these guys anything at all. Least of all the truth.

“All two of you?” Carroll asked derisively.

“Been doing okay so far,” Pete shrugged.

“You’ve been doing more than okay,” Branch chuckled bitterly. “Like I said, this whole bunch is jumping at shadows. Including their own.”

“You handled that rifle like you knew how,” Pete noted. Branch nodded.

“I do. Spent six years RA, then went private. Just lucky I was home when things happened. Just as likely to have been in Africa or South America.”

“Blackwater?” Pete asked.

“Hell no!” Branch looked offended. “I’m a soldier. I worked for Black Diamond International.”

“That right?” Pete mused. He’d heard of them. Small outfit, but professional, just like Branch said. “Knew a fella with them, once. Named Pasquallie. Ever run into him?”

“You mean Pascal?” Branch smiled. “Nice trick, by the way. Yeah, I worked for him on my first tour in Africa. Working for the government and the Conservation of Wildlife Fund, believe it or not.”

“Congo?” Pete asked.

“Yep,” Branch nodded. “Helping guard gorillas, and stop illegal charcoal operations.”

“Huh?” Billy couldn’t help it.

“I know, it sounds nutty,” Branch shrugged. “Thing is, the charcoal keeps the rebels there in money. Hell of it is, the people in the refugee camps really need it, but they won’t allow anyone to do it. Not only do the rebels use it, but it’s destroying the forests. Where the gorilla’s live. Hard to care about that when you need to cook, and stay warm, I reckon, but. . . .” he lifted both hands, palms up. “It’s a job.”

“Look, I hate to break into this professional resume swap, here,” Carroll said a bit snidely. “But what are we gonna do now?”

“Well, I’m gonna eat,” Billy shrugged. “Ain’t but MREs, but you’re welcome to share.”

“After the swill they’ve been giving us, I’ll take it and treat it like lunch at Tiffany’s,” Branch nodded.

What’s an MRE?” Carroll asked.

“It’s a delicious supplemental government meal designed for emergencies and military use,” Branch told him straight faced. “Best food you can get outside a kitchen.”

*****

“You lied to me,” Carroll accused, his face making it clear that his MRE, a wonderful selection called Chicken Ala King, was not, in fact, delicious.

“Try some hot sauce,” Branch and Pete said at the same time, then laughed. “Look,” Branch took the envelope, and pulled forth a tiny bottle of Tabasco Sauce. “This is in almost every pack. You can cover up almost anything with it.” Carroll looked suspicious, but applied the sauce and tried again. He nodded after a moment.

“That does help,” he admitted.

“You have no idea,” Pete laughed.

“Look, I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, or anything,” Branch spoke up, “but if you guys ain’t interested in freeing their prisoners, then I’m gonna need that rifle back. I don’t aim to leave my sister in this hell hole for a minute longer than I have to.”

“Cool your jets,” Pete raised a hand. “We’d thought about that, but like your partner said, there’s only two of us. All we’ve been doing lately is trying to keep them off balance.”

“And now?” Carroll looked concerned.

“We’ll see,” Pete shrugged. “We’re gonna have to get a look at the holding area. We’re gonna have to scrounge some wheels that’ll take everyone away that wants to leave. We’ll have to think on freeing the other men first, either to help us free the women, or create a big enough distraction that we can do it. Lot of things we have to plan for.”

“Look, I don’t want to seem ungrateful,” Carroll said, “and I sympathize with the plight of your sister, I do,” he said to Branch. “But. . .I’m not a soldier of any kind, and never have been. I’ve never even fired a gun.”

“How you been livin’, you ain’t able to hunt?” Billy asked.

“What? Hunt?” Carroll stammered. “I. . .I haven’t needed to hunt. I was finding plenty of stuff to live on in Nashville. It’s pretty much deserted these days. Well, there are people there, but not many. Most people fled.”

“You mean there’s still stuff in Nashville?” Billy asked, suddenly interested.

“Well, yeah,” Carroll answered. “Or there was. I don’t know if these idiots took it or not. But. . .almost nothing was touched that I saw. It was almost as if people who had survived were afraid to come into town.”

“How ‘bout that?” Billy murmured to himself. His mind came to life in a wheel of thinking. Nashville would have a lot of the things they needed. There would be fuel, supplies, clothes, building materials, the list was almost endless.

“Billy,” Pete cut into his thinking. “One job at a time, brother,” he reminded his friend gently. Billy nodded, his mind back on the here and now.

“Anyway, like I said, I appreciate it and everything,” Carroll continued, “but. . .I’m not a fighter. I don’t know how. And. . .well, I don’t want to, either.”

“You ain’t gonna last long, like that,” Billy told him flatly.

“What?”

“Things ain’t like they used ta be,” Billy reminded him. “Ain’t nobody gonna fight your battles for ya. You better learn to take care o’ yaself, cause ain’t nobody else gonna do it for ya.”

“I don’t need anybody to take care of me, if people will just leave me alone!” Carroll almost cried.

“Yeah, about that,” Pete smirked. “Case you haven’t noticed, that really isn’t how things are going these days.” Carroll’s face flushed at that, and he stood.

“Well, all I need to do is get home, and I’ll be fine. No more being careless, that’s all. I’ll make sure they can’t take me again. Can you at least give me a ride home?”

“With what?” Billy asked. He was starting to wish Carroll had run off with the others.

“How did you get here?” Carroll demanded. “If you were planning a rescue, surely you made provisions for taking everyone away from here!”

“We weren’t planning a rescue,” Pete rolled his eyes. “Which we told you earlier, had you been listening. We walked here. When we’re done, we’ll walk back.”

“Walk?” Carroll looked aghast. “It’s. . .it’s fifty miles or better back to Nashville!”

“‘Bout that,” Billy nodded in agreement. “Better get someway to carry ya some water. Maybe some food, too. Doubt there’s much ‘long the way.”

“You. . .you could give me. . . .”

“I ain’t a charity, fella,” Billy shook his head. “Like I said, ain’t nobody gonna do it for ya. You head on out, and good luck to ya.”

“I. . .you can’t just leave me! It’s not right!”

“Whole lotta things ain’t right these days,” Billy shrugged. “I don’t recall takin’ ya ta raise. Ain’t my ‘sponsibility. An’ I ain’t aimin’ ta leave off what I’m doin’ ta take ya home, neither.”

Pete listened as Billy told Carroll what time it was, a slight worry beginning to creep up on him. He’d learned a good deal about Billy over the time they’d worked together. One of the things he’d noticed was that when Billy’s drawl and pronunciation began to go downhill, he was getting irritated.

Like right now.

“I demand that. . . .” Before Pete could stop him, Billy was at Carroll’s throat. Or rather his knife was at Carroll’s throat.

“I done heard ‘bout all yer whinin’ I kin stand fer one night,” Billy all but growled. “You need ta stop. Case you ain’t noticed, I ain’t above killin’ somebody.”

Carroll’s face had gone completely white, and his eyes were wide enough to see the edge of his eyeballs. His lips trembled, but he didn’t speak.

“I ain’t carin’ if you ever get to Nashville, hear?” Billy said more calmly. “I got fam’ly I’m worryin’ over, and next ta them, you don’t even exist. Now you got that?” Carroll nodded jerkily.

“Mister Carroll, I think you ought to consider sitting down, and maybe being quiet for a while,” Pete interjected slowly. “My friend here’s kinda on edge, and you’re making him worse. Trust me, you don’t want to see worse.” He looked at Billy.

“Billy, why don’t you let Mister Carroll here sit down, and we’ll see if he can be quiet, huh?” The fire went out of Billy’s eyes, and he removed the knife.

“Just ‘member, you ain’t the only one got pro’lems,” he snarled, and went to sit by the window in the other room.

“That. . . .” Carroll began.

“I wouldn’t, was I you,” Branch shook his head. “That man ain’t playin’. He’ll like as not kill you next time. Hell, I can’t say I blame’im. You really are a whiny little shit, ain’t ya?”

*****

Everyone had taken a day off at the Farms, seeing to their work around their own places. Jerry and Jon had made the rounds in the fields, checking the crops, and working out between them how they would run the harvest. Both agreed that there was not enough grain storage available, and headed over to talk with Ben, who was working with Ralph and George to set posts for the first hay barn. He listened to them describe what was needed, and then went to Jerry’s to see the older man’s corn crib. After looking that over, he confirmed that he could build more storage, but that lumber would be an issue.

“We can use logs, I think,” he told them. “But we’ll need a safe way to seal around them, or critters will eat us out of house and home. What can we use for that, that won’t hurt the grain?”

“Old timer’s used mud,” Jerry shrugged. “I guess we could too.”

“You know, that makes me think of something else,” Ben mused. “We could use adobe bricks to build some buildings. I mean, it won’t be like the one’s they build out west, since we don’t get that kind of dry heat here. But we could kiln’em. Dry’em out like with a big oven.”

“We need to score some lumber somewhere,” Jon sighed. “I know we’ve got some, but it’s pretty good stuff, and we need to hold on to it for building projects down the road. We could use rough lumber for grain storage.”

“We need to build us a saw mill,” Jerry nodded. “We can cut logs and saw our own boards.”