Chương 114

The first truck stopped near the barn. Two men got out in faded camouflage and tactical vests. The older one had a county armband on his sleeve and a pistol on his belt. The younger one carried a clipboard, with a rifle slung over one shoulder.

"Morning," the older one called.

"Nicholas Nowak?" Nicholas did not move.

"That's me." The man stopped ten feet away.

"Order from the County office," he said.

"Every listed able-bodied man in the district reports for duty. Your name is on the list."

"The farm doesn't feed itself," Nicholas said.

"I am not able to leave it." The clipboard man flipped the pages.

"Exemptions require written approval from the County Sheriff. You don't have that."

"I have a living to make," Nicholas said.

"Everyone has a living to make," the older man said.

"Regular boys got pulled south. Roads need watching. Patrols need filling. You'll do your part like everyone else."

"For how long?" Nicholas asked.

"Until you're told otherwise." The older man looked toward the house, then back at Nicholas.

"We got transport. You have ten minutes to say goodbye to the wife and kid."

"Where are you taking me?"

"County office for debriefing." The older man shifted his weight and looked past Nicholas to Louis.

"Who's that?" Louis kept still. Nicholas answered before he did.

"Kin. Helping for a few days." The older man looked at Louis again.

"Name?" Louis wiped one hand on his trousers.

"George Harris." He took out the card Marcus had given him and walked over, his free hand open at his side. The older man took it, checked the photograph, name, and registration, then tilted it into the light.

"North Carolina?"

"Yes, sir." The older man handed the card back.

"Then you're coming too." Nicholas glanced at Louis without turning his head. Louis slid the card back into his pocket.

"I'm not from this county."

"Don't need to be." The man turned the clipboard around and pushed it against the younger man's chest.

"Add him. George Harris. Temporary household male. Nowak farm." The younger man licked the end of a pencil and wrote it down. Louis said, "I can't just leave. I have work here too." The older man looked almost amused.

"You'll do what you're told, same as everyone else. Ten minutes. Go say goodbye." Louis and Nicholas walked back together. Nicholas kept the rifle low. At the house, a curtain shifted. When they reached the mudroom, Rita was already there. She looked first at Nicholas's face, then at Louis's.

"What happened?" she whispered. Nicholas shook his head.

"Duty call. Me and the boy."

"How long?"

"Until relieved," Nicholas said. Rita's hands tightened on the edge of the door frame.

"But—""I know." He set the rifle inside the mudroom, out of sight from the yard.

"Tell the girls to keep their heads down. And stay inside. We'll be back when we can." She did not argue. She touched his arm once and nodded. Louis moved before Nicholas could say anything else. He went down the narrow hall to the workroom door. He opened it and found all five women inside.

"Did the men see any of you?" Louis asked. Angelique shook her head.

"Glads saw them from the barn. We stayed out of sight."

"What's happening?" Donya asked. Louis closed the door and kept his back to it.

"Militia call," Louis said.

"Nicholas and I have to go with them." Gladice pushed off the wall.

"This is ridiculous. I suggest we kill them all and leave."

"Bad idea," Savannah said.

"They have three trucks and radios. We have four pistols and a knife."

"She's right," Willa said.

"Even if we could take them, their command will be expecting them back. They will send more men and search this entire area."

"Then we go now," Gladice said.

"Through the back fields."

"Where do we go?" Donya asked. Angelique crossed her arms.

"We can't run. Not yet. We don't have a vehicle, and we don't know the area. We will get caught." Louis looked at each of them.

"Going with them is the only option." Angelique came to him.

"Where will they take you?"

"County office." Louis kept his voice low.

"Then who knows. Patrol. Roadblock. Whatever they think is needed." Donya looked at the floor.

"How long?"

"No idea." Willa stepped closer.

"You can't let them know who you are."

"I know."

"What about us?" Donya asked.

"Here?" Angelique took her hand.

"We will be fine. Mrs. Nowak will hide us. And we will find a way to get him back."

"How?" Gladice asked.

"We don't even know where they're taking him." Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

"We have the Athena phone," Willa said.

"I can track you. We can coordinate."

"No, you can't," Savannah said.

"If they search you, they will find it. And if they find it, we're all dead."

"She's right." Louis looked at Willa.

"You can't risk it."

"Then how are we supposed to find you?" Angelique asked.

"I will find him." Gladice's jaw tightened.

"If I have to burn every barn between here and the state line."

"We will find a way," Savannah said.

"But not now. Not by getting caught."

"Give me your gun," Angelique said to Louis.

"They will check you." Louis took the M1911 from his waistband and passed it to her. She slid it under her mattress. Savannah stepped closer.

"Listen to me. If they separate you, don't trust anybody. Don't say more than you have to. We will find a way to get you back." He nodded.

"I know. And you all need to be ready to leave if this place becomes dangerous."

"We will be ready." Angelique said.

"Go. Before they get suspicious." Gladice pulled him into a hard kiss.

"You better come back to me, Louis."

"I will." He turned to Donya. Her eyes were wide.

"Louis, what if—""Nothing will happen to me." He took her hand.

"I promise." She nodded, her lips trembling.

"I will pray for you." He kissed her, then looked at Willa. She stepped forward and kissed him quickly.

"Be smart," she said.

"I will." Angelique kissed him last.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too." Savannah watched them all, then met his eyes.

"Don't die," she said.

"I'll try not to." Louis turned and left. In the mudroom, Nicholas waited. Cherish stood near her mother, arms folded around herself, her face pale.

"Stay inside." Nicholas put his hand on Cherish's shoulder.

"And listen to your mother." She nodded. She looked at Louis for an instant, then lowered her eyes again. Louis followed Nicholas out. The older militia man leaned against the first truck, watching the barn door. Louis climbed into the back of the county transport. Nicholas followed and sat beside him. The bench was hard. The canvas roof trapped heat and dust. The men already inside shifted enough to make space.

A farmhand with mud dried to one knee looked at Louis's clean collar, then at his blistered hand, then away. The transport lurched before everyone had fully settled. Louis looked back. Rita stood on the step with the rifle in her hands. Cherish stood half behind her. Then the truck turned at the bend, and the house was gone. An older farmer spoke first.

"What the hell kind of duty is this? I ain't shot nobody and don't plan to start." The younger man beside him shook his head.

"Just grab a gun and stand somewhere. That's all."

"Stand somewhere?" the farmer said.

"I got corn going in the field. You think corn stands itself?" A boy with the cap laughed once.

"They don't give a damn about corn."

"They do when we're all starving next winter," the farmer said. A militia soldier in the front seat twisted around.

"We ain't starving. And we ain't listening to whining. Sit tight until we get there." Louis kept looking back until the road disappeared in dust. Nicholas sat with both hands on his knees, saying nothing. The lane joined a county road. Before noon, the convoy stopped at another farm and took two more men. Louis kept his mouth shut. By the time they reached the militia office, the transport was almost full. The office occupied an old farm supply cooperative at the edge of a small crossroads town.

The old sign still showed through where someone had painted over it badly. A Holy States flag hung from a pole fixed to the corner of the roof. Beneath it, a rough white cross was painted on the brick wall. Men stood in loose lines outside. Some wore camouflage. More wore work clothes. A truck idled by the side lot with crates under a tarp. Inside, the front room had been cleared out. A folding table sat beneath a wall map marked with pins and grease pencil.

Behind another table, two militia men issued weapons from a rack: mostly M16s, a few M14s and pump shotguns. The older militia man from the truck sent Nicholas forward first.

"Nowak, Nicholas." The clerk wrote.

"Age?"

"Fifty-one."

"Prior service?"

"No." The clerk looked up. Nicholas said, "I've had a rifle in my hands since I was eight. I just never wore the uniform." The clerk nodded and marked something in the margin. Louis stepped forward.

"Name?"

"George Harris."

"Age?"

"Twenty."

"Service?"

"No." The clerk wrote it down. The man behind the table tossed Louis a cap, then a white county armband stamped with a red X-shaped cross and an old tactical vest.

"Armband on your left sleeve," said the man behind the table.

"Cap on your head when posted. Vest stays on unless an officer tells you otherwise. You lose county gear, you pay for it." Louis tied the armband around his left sleeve. He pulled the vest on next. One magazine pouch had been repaired with black thread, and one buckle did not match the others. Nicholas tied his armband without looking at it and put on his vest. The weapons table came next. Nicholas received an M14 with a worn wooden stock. He checked the action once and said nothing. Louis received another M14.

The metal was clean. The wood was dark with age and oil. The man set a spare magazine beside it. Louis looked at the rifle. The militia man said, "You know how to use that?"

"Yes," Louis said. The militia man nodded.

"Don't point it at anything you don't want dead."

"Understood. You got spare sunglasses?" The militia man pointed.

"Box over there." Louis found two pairs in a cardboard box. He put one pair on and handed the other to Nicholas. Nicholas took them without a word and slipped them into a pocket.

"Report to Captain Howard for posting," the militia man said.

"He's outside." They joined the others in the lot. A group of men stood in a loose semicircle around an officer with a captain's insignia on a faded uniform shirt. Howard looked around at the men gathered, then at the paper in his hands. The men shifted their feet in the dust.

"Alright, listen up," Howard said.

"Your county needs you. The Holy States need you. But remember you are not soldiers. You are watchers and guards. That means you stand where we put you, stop what we tell you to stop, and call in what you don't know how to handle." A few men shifted in the heat. The captain raised his voice only slightly.

"You see a car that don't belong, you stop it. You see a face that don't belong, you ask for papers. You see a threat, you raise a gun. And if you shoot, you damn well better be right. Mistakes will be answered for. Understood?" A scattered reply came back. A man in a church camp T-shirt murmured, "Amen." The captain glanced at him.

"Save it for Sunday." He looked down at the paper again.

"Each post will have at least one regular with you. You listen to him. He's the one who knows the plan." The captain began to read names.

"Nowak, Nicholas. Carter's Fork checkpoint. You're with Corporal Dobbins." Nicholas stepped forward.

"Harris, George. The same. Report to the corporal." Louis moved to stand behind Nicholas. They walked toward the man indicated. Dobbins had a lean face and a uniform shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He looked them both over once.

"You two will ride with Bill, Terry and me. We'll take the truck. Let's go." Dobbins turned without another word. They walked across the lot to a pickup with the county logo on the door. Dobbins got behind the wheel. Two other men were already in the cab. One was a white-bearded older man, the other was the younger farmhand with the cap from the transport. Nicholas and Louis climbed into the truck bed with their rifles. The engine turned over and the truck pulled out of the lot.

"Do you know Carter's Fork?" Louis asked. Nicholas kept his eyes forward.

"I know where it is."

"Is it far?"

"Twenty minutes from here. Maybe thirty."

"What about the farm? The others?"

"I told Rita to keep them inside." Nicholas lowered his voice.

"And I told her what to do if I don't come back." Louis did not ask what that meant. He watched the road. The truck turned onto a state highway heading west. After a few miles, it turned onto a smaller road, then a gravel lane. The trees closed in, and the road narrowed. After another ten minutes, they reached Carter's Fork. The place was a bridge, a creek, and a road that narrowed after half a mile. Trees crowded in on all sides. A faded stop sign had been there for years.

They set the barrier across one lane and left enough space for a vehicle to pull aside. Corporal Dobbins set the radio on the hood of the truck and tested it twice. Static answered. He nodded once. Nicholas worked without complaint. He moved sandbags, set cones, checked his M14, and took the post Dobbins gave him. Louis did the same with more care and less grace. The farmhand watched him struggle with the rifle sling, then reached over and twisted it free from the vest buckle.

"Thanks," Louis said. The man shrugged.

"Ain't nothing. What's your name?"

"I'm George."

"Bill." They waited in the sun. Vehicles came by once an hour. Most were trucks with dusty beds and farm tags. Dobbins waved them through. The white-bearded man sat in the shade of the truck and said nothing. Then the radio crackled. Dobbins lifted the receiver.

"Checkpoint Four, go ahead." A voice came back, thin and bored.

"All county road watch units are to remain alert for high-value fugitives. One man and multiple women. Name: Louis Collins. Male. Blond. Possible companion of Angelique Bourbon. Brunette. Foreign. Gladice Simington. Black hair. Also foreign. Potential other companions. Vehicles: white van with no rear plate. Possibly armed. Report immediately through county command. Subject is wanted by Montgomery." A fly landed on Louis's wrist. He did not move. Dobbins repeated the description, slower this time.

"Louis Collins," he said.

"Remember it. Blond man. Might be with women. White van. Keep your eyes open." Dobbins looked over the checkpoint. He looked over Louis and moved on.

"You hear that, Harris?" Louis kept still.

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Nicholas stood five feet away with the M14 held low across his body. He glanced at Louis once. Louis adjusted his sunglasses and looked down the road he had been ordered to guard. The M14 in his hands belonged to the men hunting him. For now, he was George Harris with a county armband and a rifle. He stood still and waited for the next vehicle.