Pilliars in the Fall (2 page)

Chapter 2

The wood cutting itself actually did go just fine. Firewood was at a premium these days and while Clint figured he had enough for the winter, this last load would be the extra insurance that would make him comfortable. His propane supply on the other hand was what he was uncomfortable with. A few years back, he and his wife Kathy had installed a large propane powered generator and had not one, but two, five hundred gallon tanks brought out and filled up. It was a huge initial expense, but for cooking and hot water on top of the other things the generator could power, propane had been a good choice at the time.

He always kept one tank filled as he slowly drained the other. Unfortunately over the last year, propane started to become more and more expensive, and the waiting times for the companies to actually get some of the fuel to come out and fill up his tanks started getting longer and longer. Finally the last local company had shut down, and he wasn’t able to find anyone else to come get his tanks topped back off.

That was the other reason Clint had wanted to get this last load of firewood secured. They would be able to cook on the wood stove easily enough, and that would spare some of the remaining propane. He knew that even drawing a hard line with careful usage, there would be two more people at the house now with the addition of Blake and his wife Danielle, and those two people were not used to this meager and conservative civilian life yet.

They were used to the military lifestyle where what they needed was generally available. By their own accounts, the military was still supplying its troops fairly well, mostly through consolidating the active bases down and pooling resources. The remaining troops who had not yet been influenced to take an early out due to lack of pay and activity, were still living the lives they were used to living back when things were booming in both the military and civilian world.  Clint hadn’t expressed his concerns to me in so many words, but I could do the math, and with the few things he had talked about with me, it made sense.

Our trip for the day had taken us around the far side of town and on up north to an area we used to camp in until more and more developments and single homes had encroached on the wilderness area. It was still a nice place, although we were the type that if we were in the woods, we wanted to be in the woods alone, not waving at every dog walker, bird watcher and horse rider in the state.

It was an hour or so away from sunset and Clint was driving us back on the main road that ran through the area when we started to see lights ahead. He slowed early, managing the weight of the heavily burdened truck and trailer, giving it plenty of time to stop. We could make out a couple of different vehicles with flashing blue and red police lights in front of a short driveway that led to a trailer house. It was a rare enough scene to see multiple cop cars in any one spot, due to the rumors that most of the police force had basically up and quit as the general violence increased right along with the time between paychecks for them.

We were the first to stop on our side and there was a line of three or four cars coming from the other direction that were already stopped at the other end. Before we had been there long enough for my impatience to really rear up, a round brimmed hat and uniform came walking up, presumably to let us know what was happening.

“Hey Brad, what’s going on up there?” Clint called out as the hat came near enough for us to see him clearly in the waning light.

“Hey guys, what are you two doing out here?”

Brad Steindal had been a deputy sheriff in this county for years and we had worked with him a few times when search and rescue was needed in the areas that Clint and I knew well.

“Testing out your great detective work yet again,” I said low enough so that only Clint could hear me in the cab of the truck.

“Shhh,” he condemned me through his own stifled laughter. “Play nice with the fuzz.”

Well honestly we were sitting in front of two cords of wood with our chainsaws on top, was he such a non detail oriented observer and conversationalist that the best he could do was some automatic lame brain question? I wasn’t the biggest fan of Brad’s, although I admit it wasn’t entirely his own fault. Some of it stemmed from my own professional issues with the way most cops around here did stuff. He was a nice guy and a competent officer, but in every interaction we had with him, I was always left with less and less confidence than before.
 

“Some jack-hole shot a city cop out here on a call and is now holed up in that trailer over there. We don’t know how many there are or if anyone else was in the place, so we’re kind of at a stalemate.”

“A cop gets shot and this is all the response there is?” I was genuinely surprised.

"Afraid so, everybody is so short staffed it’s just me and three city guys that came out with blood in their eyes,” he said, then lowered his voice conspiratorially to continue on. “And between you and me, none of us are equipped for this.”

Knock another point off my confidence score card. I hoped we were the only ones he was entrusting this information to.

“How long has this thing been going on?” Clint asked casually.

I glanced sideways at him, knowing that he was starting to get a feel for the situation. I recognized it from the many times him and I had both gathered information together over the years, and I was not surprised by it in the least.

“About an hour now...
and also way too long. The guy isn’t talking and has already popped off a few rounds when we tried to get a radio in to him. Even if we had a land line phone, we don’t have a negotiator or anything,” Brad licked his lips nervously.

“Who’s in charge on scene?” Clint asked
and I closed my eyes, preparing for the answer I knew was coming.

“Well… it’s my jurisdiction, but since it was a city guy that got shot, there’s a sergeant who’s kind of running things. He doesn’t have any more experience than anyone else though.”

“What was one city cop doing responding to a call out here?” I asked, already knowing the answer. The more he talked, the more he divulged, so I kept feeding him opportunities.

“All the agencies have been sharing calls and I was far enough away that the city guy took this one.”

“Alone?”

“Its either share cars to keep the gas budget down and leave areas with no presence, or run with no backup. We just can’t do both anymore these days.”

“How long’s the wait for the active shooter guys to get here?” Clint asked.

”Uh, dispatch told us to handle it. Everyone else is busy.”

“Busy?” I asked, again skeptical of his response.

“Oh yeah, I guess you were out all day and didn’t hear the news. There’s some bad stuff starting up in town, mobs and riots and crap. Protesters breaking stuff, looting, shooting cops… it’s all starting to boil over.”

“Great,” I looked at Clint and knew his mind was now running as fast as mine was, mapping our route and any alternatives to get us back home and avoid any issues.

“Well, do you guys need a hand with traffic or anything?” Clint finally offered politely after a horn honked in frustration in the slowly growing line behind us.

“Are you guys still deputized after that escapee manhunt thing last spring?” Brad asked.

I sighed again in frustration at his ignorance.

“No, civilian deputizing is kind of a one time, situational thing. We don’t need to have temporary badges to light some flares for you though,” I tried to remind him.

“Are you armed?”

“Why?” I cocked an eyebrow, but Clint covertly signaled me to keep my cool.

“Because all I’ve got is my shotgun, and the city guys have two ARs between them. We haven’t had to qual on a range in two years and they don’t seem too confident to me.”

“Well if you are thinking of requisitioning anything from us, and then trying to use guns you are unfamiliar with, then no, we are not armed,” Clint stated matter-of-factly.

There was a reason I really liked Clint.

Besides it was a silly question. Neither Clint nor I were naive enough to go anywhere without the ability to protect ourselves. Plus with food being at a premium, we were not above harvesting a deer or anything else furry really, that we ran across on any day of the week. We currently were what could be described as "well covered" in the firearm department with Clint’s scoped Enfield and 1911, and my underfolder AK47 and .357 revolver.    

“Listen,” Brad stepped closer to the truck window, “the department, hell
everybody
is so maxed out and out of our league these days… you guys're smart and have worked with us before... I might not know how to
properly
handle this, but right now you two create resources that we don’t normally have. The longer this goes on, the more people that are going to get hurt out here. Here, in town, stuff is not getting better and we have to think outside the box.  We need to look at some other options to wrap this thing up so me and the city guys can get back into town.”

“Brad we get it,” Clint said and got a quick confirming nod from me, “but you need to be really clear with what you’re saying. This is outside the regs, I’m guessing outside your authority, and I’m pretty sure it’s outside the law.”

“But it’s not outside our ability,” I added quickly. I was not looking for a fight, actually I wasn’t altogether sure why I was volunteering for anything right now, but I wasn’t a timid person either.

“Lets go talk to…” another series of popping gunshots sounded out and we all looked up just in time to see that two of the city cops had been moving to assault the front door of the barricaded trailer. One of the officers went down on his back with his partner frantically pulling his arm, dragging him back to the relative safety of their cars and simultaneously firing over his shoulder in the general direction of the trailer with his pistol.

Clint opened his door and stepped out and I mimicked his movements on my side of the truck. His rifle was behind the seat and my carbine was in a discrete bag under it. We each grabbed our gear and met at the tailgate. I was slung up and was tucking my shirt into my waist line to gain easy access to my pistol if it was needed, and I noticed Clint was a few seconds behind me in getting his bolt action set up, so I took over for the moment.

“Brad, get these people back a least twice this distance and tell them to stay in their cars. Then let the city guys know that you have two friendlies in the woods…” I paused briefly to look around and get my bearings “…working northeast to southwest. We are going to set up there on that little rise. You see it?”

“I’ve got it,” he confirmed.

“Good, when you’re done with them, make your way to us and stay out of sight. Take charge of this thing,” I finished in a less than grand fashion.

We split up with Brad off running towards the next car in line behind us and Clint and I trotting into the wood line. I hoped Brad was smart enough to only tell the guy in the car behind ours and have him relay the information, and not try to tell them all himself.

“What’d you think?” Clint asked in a hushed tone as we worked our way closer to the rise I had selected.

“What am I thinking? I’m thinking cheeseburger; Tomato, onion, pickles, mustard, no lettuce, no mayo.”

Clint paused and looked at me for an extended second to make sure my head was indeed in the game.

“It’s a standard sniper/spotter scenario. We set up, you get dialed in, I keep my eyes up, and if Deputy Fife back there gives us the go, we go.”

“And you’re okay with that?” he pressed.

“It’s not our first rodeo. Why know and do the stuff we do if we’re never going to use it to help do the right thing?”

“Alright, I just want to be on the same page here.”

“I know. I’ve got your slack.”

I wasn’t some bloodthirsty gung-ho moron and I surely wasn’t taking this lightly, but in the scheme of things, one bad guy in one spot was a relatively straight forward deal. Or so we thought.

Chapter 3

The wet ground was soaking through our clothes and still we didn’t move. Clint was sprawled out in a picture perfect prone shooting position and I was raised up a little more, both to have a good view of the entire area and to be able to react quickly if it was needed. We had been in position for only a few minutes before I saw Brad coming toward us through the trees. I had to wave him over after realizing he was lost and trying to figure out where we were.

“One of the city guys got hit but his vest stopped it. Probably need to get him to a hospital pretty soon though, and there's no ambulances available.”

“And you told them we were here?” I prodded, allowing Clint to keep his focus on his scope and breathing.

“They think they should just open up on the entire place with their ARs.”

“Seriously? Are you sure there is no one else in there?”

“Well no, but they’re pretty mad and we are getting more and more calls to get back to help out in town,” he answered truthfully.

“Okay so what is the plan here, what is it you want to do?” I tried again.

“What do you mean?” Brad asked in the way only a cop can ask an open ended question to which he already knows the answer.

“Do you want to take this guy into custody? Distract and assault for an arrest? Wound and capture? Or are we just going for the quick kill here?” I couldn’t put it more directly than that.

“We don’t have the people for an assault and he’s shooting cops,” Brad said after darting his eyes back and forth. He was unsure of just what the best course of action was, and he obviously wasn’t comfortable being the one making decisions about it.

“Brad you’ve got to say it. Do you want us to shoot this guy?” I almost added "for you," but thought better of it at the last second.

He paused looking for the words. I wasn’t going to let him skate. We were losing precious daylight, but I was going to wait until we heard the right answer. I myself had no moral problems shooting a cop killer, even knowing that the legal ramifications could be huge. I was going to push him to say the words and make it real not just for us, but for him, both legally and morally.

“Do it,” he relented.

“Do what Brad?” I pushed again.

“Shoot him,” he finally stated outright.

Before I broke our eye contact I caught a quick flicker of condemnation and anger for me making him jump through the hoops.

“Alright… stand by.”

I knelt closer to Clint’s side so we could walk through the engagement.

“It’s an easy shot but let’s do this by the book alright?” he said without moving his head away from the gun. Going through a checklist would help him concentrate on the target and not on everything else. This way he could shut his brain down and just perform, and I understood the need for it.

“Range to target... call it seventy yards,” I began. “Wind, nill. Do you want to do a glass breaker?”

“No. Cheap trailer, cheap windows,” he quickly surmised. With a less powerful gun and better quality or angled or multi paned windows, a first shot to break the glass would possibly be needed to let the intended bullet fly into the target unobstructed. Fortunately, this was not the case this evening and it was one more part of the equation that simplified matters for us.

“Call out when you have the target.”

Now we waited. The cop killer inside had been pacing back and forth just moments before and apparently had now stopped. We needed him to move again soon or we would lose what was left of the daylight that was silhouetting him inside the trailer.

Here we were, ready to go and with no target in sight. If the guy just exposed a portion of his body at this range, it would be enough for Clint to shoot, but so far, nothing. Clint’s old scope had a large lens that helped gather the natural light, but if we had to wait too much longer, without an illuminated crosshair, the black lines would be washed out and we’d be out of commission.

The late afternoon had quickly turned to twilight as the sun dropped behind the distant hills that we had been cutting wood in just a short while ago.
 I knew we were getting close to losing our window and before I had to suggest to our friend the Deputy that he have the city guys work up a distraction to get the guy moving again, Clint’s monotone voice called out that he had a target.

“On scope.”

I took one last look back at Brad squatting behind us who nodded his confirmation, then gave the cue.

“Green light.” I worked hard to keep my voice steady and even.

Clint’s body rocked with the gun as the 303 boomed across the short space between us and the trailer. I had been anticipating the sudden noise and shock and was able to keep my monocular trained on the trailer to direct a second shot if it was needed. The blood splashed on the wall across from the window in the trailer told us that a second shot was not going to be necessary.

“Good hit. Target down. Deputy, I’d say your boys should be rushing the place right now, but he’s not getting back up.”

Clint ran the bolt, chambered a fresh round, and stayed behind his scope for an extra couple of seconds to go over his post shot review. Before long, he rolled over and looked up at Brad, “So what happens next?”

“I’m not sure really. There’s some paperwork and all kinds of stuff that we need to… what the hell!” he exclaimed as a quick succession of pistol rounds erupted in our direction from the back of the trailer.

“I thought you said there was just one guy!” I yelled at Deputy Dumbass as he buried his head in the dirt.

Clint racked off one quick round in the direction of this new threat. It was a snap shot, not wild or imprecise, its main purpose was simply to disrupt the shooter just enough to give me an opening to move and engage.

“Incompetent-rookieass-moron…” I continually muttered as my body snaked around the small hill we were on and cleared a small cluster of trees. My AK was up and waiting, as soon as I had a clear shot, I was on the trigger. Four small quick movements from my finger released a burst of rounds, each of them slamming into the upper body of a woman pointing a handgun in our direction.

My cheek was stinging from the recoil that had passed through the cold and hard metal folding stock of the AK, but the sting was imperceptible over my own anger at the situation.

“Everyone check six! Clint on me; you stay here!” I barked and then thought better of it. “Check that, Clint covers us. Brad, stay on my ass and don’t get me shot.” I amended then began moving towards the woman who had stumbled then crumpled on the ground. This was not my place and really one of the officers with a vest on should have been doing this, but I was not going to lose the initiative again.

The woman looked to be in her mid forties a
nd was pretty well drugged out, which was not all that uncommon to find in a low rent trailer in this area. She was also very dead. Even so, I took the precaution to kick the gun away from her as soon as we approached. Brad was standing right on my shoulder and looked like he was going to be sick.

“So you want to cuff her?” I smirked, noticing his demeanor and color.

What can I say? I’m a helpful person, it’s what I do.

Brad almost lost it right then and there, struggling to keep his composure enough to respond when the two city cops came around the other side of the trailer with their guns raised and pointed at us.

“Stay right there, show us your hands!”

“Its alight, it’s us,” Brad answered, but they didn’t lower their guns one inch.

“You! Drop the weapon and get on the ground!” the guy leading the charge challenged me.

“Brad…” I urged vainly for his assistance.

“Drop the gun!” the city cop screamed again.

“We’re all clear here guys,” I said for Brad, hoping the official lingo would get through.

“He said drop it!” the other one yelled at me again.

“Hey assbite, I’m with him,” I jerked my thumb in my friend, the Deputy’s, direction.

“It’s alright guys, he’s…” Brad finally stammered to say, but they were already right in my face and not backing down. I wasn’t stupid enough to fight with them even though I was becoming more and more unhappy, which made me feel a bit more unwilling to cooperate.

“Guys, get your heads together,” I again urged.

It wasn’t happening. I let the AK drop from my hands, but had decided I wasn’t going to take much more of this crap and when the two split up to come at me from both sides in what I recognized as an offensive maneuver, I began to lose my humor with the situation. Again Brad tried in vain to get them to back off; they weren’t listening and not stopping, being more intent on just yelling and closing the distance.

When the first city cop was close enough to me, it was easy enough to side step and kick his knee out from under him. From there, a quick yank across my body on the barrel of the second guy’s gun that was slung tight to him brought his face right into my elbow and he went down with watered eyes and a trickle of snot and blood.

Having his knee buckled out from under him, the first guy’s face was now down level with my knee, and a simple high step into his face sent him sprawling onto his back.

“Fuck it, you figure this out!” I stabbed a finger into Brad’s chest while he stood there dumb and stunned. I had told him that he had better take control of this situation and I damn well had meant it. This was a real mess now and I was not happy. I was also very lucky neither of these guys had simply shot me on the spot.

Thinking it might show some bit of good faith and make the point of just how mad I was, I left my AK on the ground and turned my back on the three stunned officers to walk back toward Clint and the truck. All the while praying that neither of the two would recover enough to shoot me in the back as I walked away.

Clint had packed up his gear and met my stride as I passed the little knoll he had fired from.

“So how’d that go?” he joked dryly.

“Oh bite me,” I rolled my eyes. “Here,” I un-holstered and handed him the .357 revolver on my hip. “I don’t want them confiscating this when they come over here and arrest me.”

“What the heck happened?” Clint asked.

“I don’t know… the city guys are all keyed up and wanted to put me in custody even though Brad, the one guy that is supposed to have the authority and jurisdiction here, said otherwise.”

“Well yeah I saw all that, I mean with the woman, where’d she come from?” he clarified.

“Back door was open. Maybe a girlfriend, or maybe it was her place the guy ran into and she freaked out. All I know is that she’s dead now because they didn’t do their jobs,” I spat.

“You alright?” he asked me seriously.

“My elbow hurts.” I answered and took a big swig of water from a bottle in the truck, then poured some in my hand to rinse the drying sweat from my forehead. Even in the chill late fall air, it felt refreshing... cleansing.

We didn’t have to wait long for Deputy Steindal to make his way back over to us at the truck.

“Well you pissed them off,” he started out, the official tone in his voice more evident now that the situation had been resolved.

“I pissed them off? Screw them, they’re lucky to…” but Clint caught my eye and I stopped mid sentence. I was pissed and quite frankly I didn’t care if their little feelings had gotten hurt. I also knew when to shut up too.

“Besides wanting to arrest you, they want to press charges too,” Brad continued on.

“They put a lawyer in front of me and I’ll beat the hell out of him and them again just for trying it,” I barked back.

Maybe I didn’t know when to shut up.

“Look you could and should be in some real trouble here,” Brad said, finally showing some authority. “But it’s my call so you might want to calm down and watch what you say and how you say it.”

“What’s the plan here Deputy?” Clint nimbly directed the proceedings.

“Dispatch is screaming at us to wrap up here and get into town. Sounds like its escalating and we’ll be lucky if the whole east side of the city isn’t burning down by morning.”

“So we’re free to go?” I pushed.

Brad eyed me up and down for a second as if he was going to reconsider and then finally nodded his consent.

“I need to get statements and reports, but I don’t even know if the crime scene guys are going to come out here tonight, or at all.”

“Well just give us a call when you are ready and we’ll email you our statements,” I mocked.

He knew all to well how spotty phone, power and Internet service had been where we lived.

“Thanks for your help guys, I know this was pretty crazy but you probably saved our lives, or at least mine with that woman. And listen, you might want to look at talking to someone or something. They make us do that in the department after a shooting,” he said, trying to sound wise.

“I took a psych class in college once,” I answered sarcastically. Therapy for this was not something I needed. Probably for a lot of other things, but this I could deal with. “You didn’t happen to grab my AK did you?”

“Um, well, the city guys are holding onto that. Said it was an illegal short barreled something a rather…”