The Alpha Chronicles (21 page)

Diana set off, issuing instructions and consoling family members of the people being held hostage. Much of the food available wasn’t easily transferred from its storage location to the courthouse. There were four sides of beef at the taxidermy-turned-butcher, several bags of harvested wild greens and some boxes of canned goods being prepared for distribution. One by one, volunteers began carrying loads of foodstuffs, and at Diana’s request, left them lying on the ground in close proximity to the truck.

Bishop made for the hotel where the Darkwater contractors were staying. As he zipped up in a borrowed golf cart, he found most of the operators standing outside, curious
at what all of the commotion was about.

Bishop quickly explained the situation.

Deke whistled, “This really
is
the wild, wild West.”

“No shit,” Bishop added, “Any brilliant ideas?”

Deke shook his head, “Hostage rescue is a tricky business, slick. Takes special training and equipment. I know a little bit about the methods, but for sure, we don’t have the equipment. Snake cameras, radios, or cell phones for the negotiator to talk to the crazies - we don’t have any of that stuff.”

The group continued to float a few ideas, but Bishop
didn’t hear anything that had a good chance of working without getting a lot of innocents killed. He thanked the contractors and made for the cart when Deke offered, “We’ve got thermal imagers. They won’t show much through the limestone walls of that building, but they can see heat through glass most of the time. I don’t know if that’s any help.”

Bishop scratched his chin, an idea starting
to formulate. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bishop located Diana two blocks down from the courthouse, the
mayor directing several workers while trying to maintain control of the situation.

“Give me good news,” she said.

“I can’t just yet, but I’ve got an idea. I need some time.”

“Gathering up that much food is going to take a while. I’ve got a couple of the men looking for older guns no one uses anymore.”

Bishop noticed the sides of beef that were being stacked nearby. Each slab of meat was wrapped in thick cheesecloth. Looking back at Diana, he said, “Don’t load those until I get back.

Ignoring Diana’s questioning look, Bishop hustled off in the golf cart, heading back for the
church. He had spied a pair of old stereo speakers in the maintenance shed and made a beeline directly for them. A small amount of work with a screwdriver resulted in successful retrieval of the speaker’s magnet.

The next leg of Bishop’s
scavenger hunt involved his load gear. Bishop carried a flashlight designed with interchangeable settings, one of which was infrared. All the time cursing having only one useful arm, he retrieved some para-cord, and with great effort securely attached the magnet to the body of the flashlight. He replaced the batteries with fresh, recharged units and then tested his device on the metal porch railing.

The next stop was the church infirmary. During his visit to have his wound cleaned, Bishop had noticed a box of chemical heating pads sitting in the corner. Normally used for sore backs or aching muscles, the devices contained small bags of iron powder that when squeezed
, combined with carbon and water, producing heat for several hours. He gathered up the box and headed back toward the courthouse.

Bishop recruited a passerb
y to help him carry the box to Diana. The deacon peered inside and flashed Bishop a puzzled look. “Are you worried the beef has a slipped disc?”

Bishop grinned, and replied, “No, but I do believe those heating pads will show up on
a thermal weapon’s site. They should shine like beacons in the night.”

“I used thermal guidance systems in the Navy,” she replied, “I didn’t know we had anything like that in Alpha.”

“The Darkwater guys have them. I also want to hedge our bet,” Bishop said, holding out the flashlight. “This torch shines an infrared strobe. We need to stick its magnet on the truck some place where it won’t be noticed. The beam should be pointed skyward.”

Deacon Brown looked Bishop in the eye and nodded. “I see what your plan is. You intend to let them out of town with the food and then hunt them down after we have all of our people back. Very good.”

Bishop looked down, disappointment crossing his face. “I just hope Nick and Terri are back soon. I can’t help you chase these assholes down, but at least we should be able to find them. Maybe the Darkwater guys will help with the dirty work.”

Diana put her hand on Bishop’s good shoulder and reassured her friend. “You’ve given us a chance, Bishop. Not only will we need this food back, but we c
an’t have rogue hostage takers roaming the streets.”

Deacon Brown maintained eye contact with Bishop until he acknowledged her words with a nod. She then immediately turned to her workforce and began issuing instructions regarding the heating pads. A few minutes later, all of the chemical devices were hidden inside bags of food, closely intertwined with the cheesecloth wrappings, where their presence was inconspicuous.

Movement from the front of the courthouse drew everyone’s attention as the same man appeared, this time with a different female hostage as a shield. “Listen up! I’ve been watching you gather the loot, now it’s time to start loading the truck. We’ve no doubt worn out our welcome by now.”

Diana stepped forward and announced, “I’m not putting one calorie on that truck until we talk about how the exchange is going to go down. I want my people back.”

“First, you’re going to assign a couple of strapping, young men to pack those sides of beef for us. After that, I’m going to send one hostage out of the building at a time. Each one is going to load his or her share of that food onto our truck. As the loading is completed, I will give permission for that person to return to you. We are going to keep two hostages with us. That way, you won’t get a wild hair up your ass and try to ambush us on the way out of town. I’ll drop off the last of my charge five miles outside of the city limits. You can pick them up at your leisure.”

Diana thought about the terms for a moment before responding. “Agreed. Let’s get this over with.”

Realizing the obvious choices for loading the dump truck, Bishop quickly hustled one of the bulked men out of sight. He explained to the fellow where and how he wanted the flashlight mounted. Bishop turned on the device, setting it to strobe an infrared beam. He handed it over, wishing the deliveryman the best of luck.

The man carrying Bishop’s flashlight made sure he was one of the crew that hopped up into the bed of the truck. As the second side of beef was hefted up, he and another man dragged the heavy load toward the front near the cab. Bishop was watching closely as the two men played it perfectly. The beef seemed to slip from one guy’s hand and land on his partner’s leg. Shouting out, the injured fellow reached for the
edge of the dump-bed and stuck the flashlight between the cab and the front of the steel box. He even managed to stick it pointing perfectly skyward. Mission accomplished!

The rest of the hostage exchange went smoothly, but Bishop didn’t hang around to witness the proceedings. Speeding off again in the cart, he traveled the side streets of Alpha until he found the address of one Mr. Hugh Mills. 

In performing her municipal duties, Terri interviewed quite an interesting assortment of folks, in the hope of assimilating refugees and residents alike into the public works program. One of the most interesting of Alpha’s citizens, Mr. Mills was quite the charmer, in his late 50s, and a widower. He explained to Terri that back in his old Air Force days, he used to fly C-130s all over NATO.

“I hope that husband of yours knows what a lucky guy he is to be hitched to a stunner like you, Ms. Terri,” the old gentleman had told her. “I sure do miss my Janet,” he continued. “You know you just assume that th
e ones you love will always be here.” Recently retired, he had flown a few small commercial stints, avoiding full-time employment so that he and his soul mate could cruise or jet away to exotic locales. But that changed when Janet was killed by a drunk driver. Bishop found the man working in his garden and introduced himself.

Bishop
announced himself as “Mr. Terri” and explained his strategy to the pilot, relieved when the man’s eyes brightened. “Bishop, I’d be glad to pay back the people of Alpha for all they’ve done for me. Besides, I could use a little adventure. I should probably tell you though, I have not flown at all since my wife’s death last year. My heart just wasn’t in it. But without any other traffic around, I should be able to get my bearings pretty quickly. The other issue is that I don’t know what condition my plane is in. I figured it was pointless to walk out to the airport since I didn’t have enough gasoline to get her in the air anyway.”

Bishop invited Mr. Mills to take a ride with him out to the hangar, and his new acquaintance happily agreed to go. The two men hopped into a golf cart and proceeded to the north side of Alpha.

Arriving at the airport reminded Bishop of the gunfight that had occurred on the premises just a few, short months ago. Alpha had been ruled by thugs at the time and he had invaded their turf to scavenge medical equipment to save his old boss. It had been a desperate fight while one of his party had found and readied a plane.

Steering onto the main tarmac, Bishop noted his getaway dune buggy remained right where he’d left it. The engine had suffered too much bullet damage and sputtered to a violent end. Bishop hurried by the converted HUMMER, swiping the dust from the hand-painted logo on the hood as he passed. Ignoring the broken glass and rusting bullet holes, he whispered, “You deserved better,” under his breath.

The remainder of the airport looked untouched. Hugh wasted no time hopping out of the cart and hustling into the massive storage shed where several aircraft were accommodated.

Before Bishop could follow him, Mr. Mills exited the facility, shaking his head. “It’s here and appears undisturbed. All that we need is some gasoline.”

“I can handle that,” Bishop boasted. “I’ve got connections with the city council.”

The two men sped
back to Alpha where Bishop exchanged the golf cart for his pickup truck. His first stop was to find Diana.

“You want to requisition gasoline for what?” Diana asked.

“I want to get one of the airplanes functional and use it to find the devices we hid on that truck. I think we can find our crooks a lot faster from the air.”

“At night?”

“Yup. The contractors have infrared for heat detection, and I have night vision. The welcoming committee had a pilot listed – that’s Mr. Mills standing over there. In the long run I think we’ll use less fuel tracking the extortionists from the air than searching the entire desert in trucks.”

“Okay, Bishop. I sure hope this works. I’ll send men to the church and have them take the spare cans from the mainte
nance shed. We’ll bring them to the airport.”

Bishop spread his hands, “I would put the odds at 50
/50 that we’ll find the thieves. But something you said the other day made me think that having a functional airplane or two wouldn’t be a bad idea anyway.”

“Something
I
said?”

“When you compared our little shindig here to Alaska, it made me think. They use small aircraft a lot there because of the
terrain’s inaccessibility and the often-impassable roads. If we develop airborne capabilities, it could solve all kinds of issues. Medical emergencies, resupply, and security – the possibilities are practically endless.”