THE TRASHMAN (25 page)

The final fifty yards took me nearly fifteen minutes to cover. Carl had taught me a neat trick. Move laterally to your objective to a position where several large trees or thickets lined up between you and your objective and use the natural setting to shield your movement. Another thing was that the eye tends to catch fast movement and to miss things that move with stealth. I used both bits of advice.

At the last thicket, thirty-feet away, I paused to observe the rear of the structure. The blinds at the kitchen window were open, and I could see a white refrigerator against the far wall of the room. To the right of this window, I could see straight through the living room through the window on the far side, and actually saw my van parked near the toll building.

The blinds of the other windows on this side were closed, but I thought I could see brightness behind the one on the far end. I waited for the sun to set. There was definitely a light on inside the room and I knew, because there was no flicker, it was electric powered.

All the time I’d waited, there had been no movement in the kitchen or living room. My thought was a switch had been left on and the solar array was the source of power for the light.

There was no moon yet, and the space between the home and me was nearly pitch black. I left the thicket and mounted the small landing at the back door. I tried the knob but the door was locked. There wasn’t a dead bolt. I pulled my wallet from my rear pocket and removed a useless credit card.

A neighbor had taught me a trick for opening doorknob locks. You hold the card at a slight downward angle and force it between the jamb and the door above the knob. Then you jiggle the door slightly, and move the card down until the edge touches the keeper. You keep a steady pressure with the card on the keeper, and continue to jiggle the door. Most times the card will slip in place behind the slanted edge of the keeper, and each jiggle of the door draws the keeper farther out of the keeper plate.

It took five seconds and very little noise to open the door. The stench of corrupted flesh poured out and I retreated from the building. No living person would willingly be inside the trailer.

I returned to my van and stood by it for a long period of time, listening for any sound that would indicate the presence of someone else in the area. I heard nothing other than the common sounds of the forest. I had found a suitable temporary headquarters for my mission. I decided against sleeping in the reception building even though it was roomy enough, opting for a tent in the woods. I drove my van up the gravel drive and then around to the back of the trailer and unloaded my camping gear.

Tomorrow I would make my first foray into the Clan’s territory.

*****

The following morning I packed for a one-week recon mission. Most of the space in my pack was given to Meals-Ready-to-Eat, energy bars, peanuts and ammunition. A liter of water to supplement my canteen added considerable weight. Since this was a discovery mission, explosives from the supply Carl had provided would not be needed. For weapons, I carried my rifle slung, the .45 holstered at my side, along with my survival knife in its scabbard.

Feeling slightly ridiculous, I slid the handle of a hunting slingshot into a leg pocket of my pants and dropped a few glass marble in with it. When Carl had first shown me the slingshot, I thought he was joking, but when he showed me the penetration power the surgical tubing imparted to the marble when shooting at a blob of Ballistic Gel that mimicked the density of human flesh, I changed my mind.

Another demonstration using a ceramic coffee cup reinforced the effectiveness of the weapon. “How’d you like to take a marble to your forehead?” he asked. I looked at the scattered remains of the cup and shook my head with an emphatic, “No!”

I packed a tarp rather than my tent, which I struck and put back into the van. The last item was my sleeping bag with its waterproof cover. This I strapped to the pack with Velcro fasteners.

As I shrugged on my pack, my watch indicated 7:00 a.m. I hiked toward the road, but turned short fiftyyards and took to the woods, striking a path parallel to the road. My idea was to stay out of sight, but remain close enough to hear vehicles traveling on it.

I was well past the sign indicating the Clan’s claim when I heard the sound of an engine. I closed the distance until I could see the road and then crouched in the underbrush. As before, I saw a jeep with four occupants. This time, I noted one of the men was wearing a navy-blue ski mask instead of black. I wasn’t positive, but I vaguely remembered noticing that before, two-months earlier. If so, it seemed possible that the same men patrolled the route each time.

I noted the time, 9:30, and their estimated speed, 15 mph, onto a notepad from my pocket and waited for the jeep to make the turnaround at the sign. As soon as they passed my position, I continued my journey deeper into the Bradford Clan’s territory.

I stopped for lunch at 2:00 p.m. Sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree waiting for an MRE to heat, I heard the engine approaching again. I went to view the road, and sure enough, it was the same jeep, and one of the men was wearing a blue ski mask. I noted this on my pad and returned to eat my meal.

After burying the packaging of the MRE, I did some figuring. 9:30 until 2:00 was four and a half hours. Assuming the men had no other duties, I took away an hour for lunch, which left three and a half. At 15 mph, they could cover over fifty miles of roadway. I noted that assumption on my notepad, and the fact it would take a huge supply of gasoline to maintain that schedule for any length of time, especially if the patrols went through the night. If so, it would take another crew to man the mission.

I continued on, not rushing myself. Carl figured if the Clan had any military-trained members that it would be possible they would send out foot patrols to scour the forest near their headquarters. Not knowing where their camp was located, I had to assume it could be over the next rise, or in the next valley.

Personally, I thought it would be in close proximity to either Santeetlah Lake or Fontana Lake in order to exploit the ability to fish. But, as Carl and William had drummed into my head, assume nothing. Rely on facts, and the fact was I knew nothing yet.

Close to 8:00 that evening as I prepared camp, I heard the engine again. At the road, I again saw the same jeep with blue ski mask in the rear seat. It was already the 3
^rd
of April, and the days were getting warmer, even up here in the higher altitude of the mountains. It wouldn’t be too long before the warming days made them shed the ski masks.

I returned to my camping spot beside a narrow stream, and spread the tarp to lay my sleeping bag on. After washing in the cold water of the stream and snuggling into the bag, I turned the excess of the tarp on top of me as a barrier against the evening dew.

Three days and nights, I traipsed the woods, following the road. Each passing day saw the jeep timing change reflecting the distance I’d traveled. On the fourth day, well past noon, I smelled wood smoke. Following my nose, creeping stealthily from tree to tree to thicket, I came upon the biggest pipe I’d ever seen. I couldn’t guess the actual height but it was at least ten feet. To the left, the pipe lay on the ground, but supported on concrete pillars, it began to rise until it crossed the road supported by a bridging structure. If it hadn’t been elevated, I would have not been able to scale it. I passed under and came to a point where I could hear voices.

Moving cautiously, mindful of Carl’s presentation about electronic as well as passive warning systems, my progress was slowed by having to scan the ground for trip wires and laser devices, and the trees for surveillance cameras and motion detectors. As I moved toward the people, I could hear speaking. I didn’t see anything of that nature, but in truth, if a device were well hidden, someone could already be aware I was approaching.

Finally, I was within sight of a clearing enclosing a single large structure and two small outbuildings. I could see three jeeps parked in front of the main building, as well as several men off to the left enjoying a game of horseshoes, the clang of the heavy metal hitting the iron stakes driven into the ground giving identity to the strange metal on metal noise I’d heard mixed with the voices.

This had to be an outlying camp strictly to stage patrols from. I counted seven men. Without their menacing weapons and sans ski masks, they looked like ordinary citizens. The memory of the dead couple near the Clan’s sign belied their seeming innocence.

The building itself was a plain, one story, white-painted, square structure with a front porch across half the front centered on an entrance door. I guesstimated the building’s dimensions to be fifty feet by thirty, and it had a metal roof rusted in spots. To the right, toward the rear of the building was a large wood-frame storage shed, also with a metal roof.

I retreated several hundred feet, and circled around to view the rear of the clearing and buildings. Other than several windows, and a door opening onto a set of steps, there was nothing else to note except a thin stream of smoke coming from a stovepipe on this side of the roof. The wood was probably burning in a heater because I’d noted a large propane tank near the right side of the building, as well as a generator sheltered by an open sided metal roof on a square steel frame.

I settled in to observe and wait for dark.

The game of horseshoes continued, with different duos stepping to the line at the end of each game. I learned several of their names from the shouts of encouragement or derision from the men on the sidelines. A man named James seemed to be in charge of the group.

Eventually a man came out and announced dinner. James ordered the men inside. I ate too, noting how low my supplies were getting. I had only three days’ more of food.

At 6:30, all eight men drove away in two of the jeeps. I knew they would be gone a while. I monitored the building, watching for the presence of other clansmen. No one came out and I heard nothing from inside. Even after dark, I saw no lights come on.

It was close to 10:00 when the jeeps returned with only minutes between their separate arrivals.

All the men had flashlights. One of them went to the generator to start it. Moments later, lights came on inside the building, floodlights lit the clearing, and they all went inside. So far, no guards had been posted. I gave it another hour to see if this negligence on the part of James would be rectified. It wasn’t.

I sneaked to the building and made my way around the end to where the generator sat. It wasn’t particularly loud, but loud enough to cover any sounds I might make hoisting myself onto the wooden deck.

Peering through the slot where the plain white curtains came together, I saw there were several men at a table playing cards and drinking vodka. Two men at another table by the far wall were doing something with items spread on the surface. The men playing cards were getting drunk and loud. The two at the table were not drinking. James was one of them.

He was taking apart shotgun shells, pouring the buckshot into a plastic cup, and the powder into another. A growing pile of empty shells and wadding was growing on the floor beside him.

The other man was assembling something with items too small for me to recognize.

One of the men at the card table shouted, “Why the hell you guys doing that in here? You’re going to blow us to hell.”

“Go fuck yourself,” James shouted back.

I continued peering through the window. No one else joined the group in the common area. James finished opening shotgun shells. Using a plastic bowl, he began kneading the buckshot and gunpowder into a white, putty-like substance. I knew it had to be C-4, the powerful explosive Carl had introduced me to.

I found myself wishing the card player would be correct and James would make a mistake and blow them all to hell.

James finished kneading the ingredients and began packing them into a small metal container with a screw top lid.

He said something to the man at the table with him and then loudly announced, “As soon as Billy finishes the detonator, we’ll see how well my bomb works. We’ll blow up the defectives. I guarantee you it kills them all.”

“Well, I ain’t cleaning up the mess. You and Billy want to play games, go right ahead.”

“You’ll do whatever the fuck I say, asshole.”

One of the men stood from the table. “I’m going to take a piss. I’m with Bob. Shooting them is a damn sight cleaner way of killing the niggers than blowing them up.”

That did it. James wanted to play with explosives, well he was about to have an accident. As the man moved to the back door I ducked and shrugged my backpack. I dug through it for the fake magazine Carl had given me.

I’d noticed the man who went to pee hadn’t needed to unlock the door to leave the building. I put my pack on and tried the door. As I hoped, the front door wasn’t locked either. Hoping for an airburst over the table, I pushed in on the bullet at the top of the magazine until it latched into place, counted to three, opened the door, tossed the bomb high in the direction of James and Billy, then dove for the edge of the porch, and rolled to the ground. The second my body met dirt, the C-4 detonated; I was on my back with the pack elevating my shoulders. I watched pieces of the building fly over me, mostly glass. The biggest piece of debris was the door.

I immediately scrambled to my feet and raced to the shelter of the surrounding forest.

I was seriously hyperventilating as I settled into my spot to watch the building. I had just killed or seriously injured seven men. The explosion must have shorted something, because the flood lamps dimmed and went out. Now the building was poorly lit by a pale sliver of the moon.

Minutes later I saw a flashlight come on inside and figured it was the pisser inspecting the damage. More minutes passed as I watched the light move from place to place, and then a man came through the hole where the door should be. He left the porch and went to one of the jeeps. He cranked it, but something must have not satisfied him because he left that one and cranked another. This one must have fit the bill. He put it in gear and drove away toward the main road.