The Western Front: Parts 1-3 Part 10

"It's a huge risk."

"I don't want to make the decision here, in the rain, surrounded by a bunch of dead men; that seems like too much of a bad omen. I'll call you later tonight. Did you pick up a new phone?"

"Of course."

"Alright, give me the number. Oh, by the way, you're doing great work."

William climbed on his bike and eased through the cemetery. The ride back would be miserable, but at least it would be short. After several minutes he was on the Arlington Memorial Bridge. The bridge was empty so he straddled the center line aimed for D.C.

He gazed up the Potomac towards the Teddy Roosevelt, but it was obscured by the heavy rain. He still had not gotten used to the emptiness of the city. Before, all of the bridges would have been aglow by the light of the lamps and cars, but not anymore.

After crossing the river, he slowed down for the checkpoint. He flashed his license to the soldier and was allowed back into the city proper. If the nation was at war, D.C. was the green zone. It was an island of stability in a sea of chaos. Of all cities, it was determined to continue on. The checkpoint soldiers were well known for their intolerance of the woes of the rest of the world. And if they were not a strong enough deterrence, then the tanks that loomed behind them certainly were. The security was so iron-fisted that he no longer held protests within the city for fear that even his connections would not be enough to protect him.

He veered north around the Lincoln Memorial and the menacing tanks that flanked it. William took 23rd north to George Washington University and cut through the campus. He turned back south until he reached Quigley's Pharmacy at the corner of G Street and 21st. He parked in the back and walked around the corner to Tonic.

After changing into some dry clothes in the bathroom and stuffing the riding suit into his backpack, he found an empty seat at the bar. He a ordered a Guinness draft before scanning the candlelit establishment and taking in the scene. The elegant bar was filled with staffers, aides and lobbyists, mingling after just another long day at the office. In many ways, not much had changed in the city. As long as you were in the green zone, life was good, all things considered.

As he was enjoying the rich, draft brew, a young walked up and sat down beside him. She took a sip of her cabernet sauvignon and then nudged him with her elbow.

"Well, look who's here," she said.

"Careful, what will all of your friends say when they see you over here with me?"

She laughed, "Absolutely nothing, you know they're terrified of you."

William turned and stared into her eyes. "But what about you? Do I frighten you?"

She laughed again, louder this time, "Oh yeah, sure, I'm shaking in my Jimmy Choos." She feigned distress for a moment, and then continued, "Come on, you know who my boss is, we're practically on the same team."

"He's a rather unique senator, isn't he?"

"I guess that's one way to put it." She paused and sipped her drink. "So what brings you here? I know you only come around when you want my sage advice."

"You know me so well." He sarcastically rolled his eyes as he lifted the Guinness to his lips again.

"Knowing people is my job, it's why I am paid so very well. Now, tell me about the dilemma that's brought you to my bar."

"Well, I've got this project. It's a very important project and I knew the all parties very well. It was a very comfortable scenario-"

She interrupted his vague ramblings and said, "But?"

"Yes, 'but,' things changed. We couldn't come to an agreement on how to proceed. They had a lot of reservations about dealing with me, so they backed out."

She smiled, "Aww, that's too bad."

"But here's where it gets interesting: I've had a new player contact me. I know nothing about him. I don't know if I can trust him, I don't even know if it is a him. He says he can fulfill all of the obligations of the other party, and much more, but I have to play by his rules."

"Enter the dark horse." She smiled. She always enjoyed toying with William. She knew that she intimidated him, and she found it intriguing.

"A dark horse indeed, and I have absolutely no idea what I should do." He motioned for another beer and was promptly accommodated.

She gently set her wine gla.s.s on the bar and placed her hand on his arm. She turned her head and stared at the people in the bar. They were smiling and laughing as they drank away the night while the rest of the world burned. She concealed her resentment well, but he could see a glimmer of it. She returned her gaze to him and said in a whisper, "William, Mr. Arayo can be trusted, but he will not wait long for an answer. I suggest you leave now and call your friend, I believe he should be back in his room by now."

William stared at her incredulously, but she ignored him and swirled her drink about.

He placed a crumpled hundred dollar bill on the bar and stood up to leave. He squeezed through the dense crowd that continued to trickle in from the stormy night. As he reached the front door and turned around to wave goodbye, but she was already gone.

As he stepped back outside into the rain, he retrieved his phone and dialed the man's number.

"Yeah?"

"Where're you?"

"I just got back to my room, why?"

William paused.

"William? Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. So, I thought about everything and, I want you to tell him we're in."

"Are you sure? I thought you were going to take the night to consider it. This is a huge risk, remember?"

"I've considered my options, I understand the risk and I've made my decision. Also, prepare the secondary objective. We'll execute the plan as soon as possible."

Chapter 16.

Clayton Washington County, Alabama Clayton drifted alongside the narrow pier in h.e.l.lcat Bayou and looped his bow and stern ropes around the piles. Another run had not been scheduled for a couple weeks, but he had made an exception. Clay decided it best to leave Moses with Claire for the night. The cur did not usually tolerate strangers in his boat. Clayton had looked back at the porch as he idled away and watched his friend whine and protest the decision.

The grief-stricken mother gingerly stepped out onto the pier with Teddy behind her to ensure she did not fall. Clayton remembered the last time he was there and thought perhaps Deputy Greene should be the one helping her. Clay took her hand and helped her balance as she stepped down into the boat. Her two sons, sixteen and fourteen years old, followed behind Teddy on the pier. Deputy Greene remained on the bank and aimed his flashlight at their feet.

Her husband had been a diabetic before the world had changed. As false stability gave way to uncertainty, it had become increasingly difficult to find the medicines he needed to regulate his condition. When they were finally able to obtain insulin, the periods of extended power outages ensured that it could never be properly refrigerated. Ultimately, it would be ruined by the heat. After months without proper preventative medicines, his health began to decline. His kidneys failed and slowly, over the course of several weeks, he succ.u.mbed to a very painful death.

The slow death of a loving father and husband was unbearable for the young family to witness. The agony he went through near the end had driven their mother into a deep depression. He was the love of her life and a wonderful father, and now they were alone. They had no one else on this side of the river.

The remainder of their family resided not far from Clayton's drop point on the opposite side. He had arranged for several of his contacts to meet him at the usual location and escort the mother and her sons to her family's homestead. His contacts had dutifully agreed; it was the least they could do for one of their own.

Once everyone was safely seated in Clayton's boat, he untied the vessel and pushed off.

As the boat drifted away from the pier, Deputy Greene called out, "Clayton."

"Yeah?"

"Be careful out there tonight."

"Why? What's the word?"

"Well, we've been having some problems over the last week or so and it's getting worse."

"Like what?"

"Mostly home invasions; a few people've been killed. I could be wrong, but I'm afraid it's going to turn up on the water soon enough."

"I don't doubt it. Think it's outsiders?"

"Not sure yet; we've been checking to see if anyone's had family or friends move in from out of town, but so far we haven't got any leads."

"Keep looking, you'll find them. It's hard to cause trouble 'round and stay hid for long."

"Agreed; anyway, be careful, Clay."

"Always do; take care, deputy." Clayton started the motor and slipped on his helmet, before disappearing into the night.

The stars were particularly bright. They caught Clay's attention, and he glanced up occasionally to marvel at them. They sped under gnarled branches draped with Spanish moss. The eerie limbs looked like the frail appendages of some underworld beast. The slough beyond the lake began to narrow and wind more severely. Clayton slowed the shallow-draft boat to a more reasonable pace so as not to frighten the already-grieving family.

He watched as the mother stared blankly ahead into the darkness, unaware of his empathetic gaze. Her boys sat on either side of her. The elder son draped his arm around her while the younger clasped her hand tightly. He admired the boys for their courage. He knew their resilience was all that was holding their mother together. He thought of his own children and hoped they had remembered all he had taught them. He prayed that they were safe and that G.o.d would let him see them again.

Clayton shut off the motor as they neared the mouth of the slough. They sat in silence as he listened for any unnatural sounds, but heard none. He watched as the youngest boy occasionally glanced up at his helmet and goggles. Finally the boy broke the silence of the boat with a whisper.

"Mister Clay?"

"What is it, little man?"

"What're you wearing on your head?"

"That's his night vision," the older brother replied.

"Your brother's right; it lets me see in the dark like a barn owl."

"Cool, can I try it?"

"Joshua," his mother scolded, "leave Mister Clayton alone."

"He's fine Hanna; here you go, Josh." He pulled the helmet off of his head and plopped it onto the boy's. "Try it out."

"Wow!" The boy gazed all about and laughed as he said, "I can see everything!"

"That's right," Clayton replied as the Josh handed it back to him, "it's my secret weapon. Well, the coast sounds clear. Let's shoot across the river and back into the safety of the cutoff. Is everybody ready?"

The boys replied, but Hannah simply nodded. Clayton started the motor again and twisted the tiller throttle as far as it would allow. The boat roared to life and leapt forward as it began to plane across the water. They burst forth at full speed from the slough and flew down the river towards the cutoff.

Clayton squinted in an attempt to discern several objects that were barely visible along the bank in the approaching bend. The closer he got, the more obvious it became as to what they were. He yelled over the roar of the engine to the others, "Hannah, I want you and Josh to get in the bottom of the boat; get as low as you can. Josh, try to keep your mother calm, alright?"

"But-"

"Do it, son; no time for questions. Dale, I need you to come back here with me, okay?"

Dale nodded and complied. He stepped over the dry well to the back of the boat and stood beside Clayton. Clay shouted over the motor again, "Open the dry well and grab some ear m.u.f.fs, it's about to get even louder."

The boy did as he was ordered without question. Clayton looked again and could now see several men in the two boats along the bank. He knew it was only a matter of time.

Suddenly, two spotlights shined from the boats and illuminated Clayton's vessel. Clay turned off his goggles to avoid being blinded and guided the boat by memory and moonlight until he could get away from the bright beams. As they flew past the boats Dale cried, "They're following us!"

The boats were larger and faster than Clay's, but they could never hang with him in the narrow sloughs. Unfortunately, they were still at least a mile from the cutoff. There was nowhere to hide, so Clayton continued to push hard and pray for Providence.

"Get on the gun!" Clayton yelled, "Aim just below the lights so it doesn't blind you. Alternate between the boats to rattle them both; I need you to buy me some time. I'm counting on you, Dale. Your mother and brother are too."

Dale nodded and shouldered up to the fifty-caliber that was resting in the bracketed mount in the center of the boat. He aimed slightly low just like he was told and squeezed the trigger. He jerked the first shot for fear of the recoil. The round sailed wide of the pursuers. Much to his surprise, the kick was mostly absorbed by the home-made mount; all that he felt was the shockwave from the explosion in the chamber.

Being downrange of the huge muzzle flash obviously surprised the pursuers. They certainly had not expected such a forceful response. They began to slalom back and forth to avoid being an easy target for the cannon. Clayton smiled; they were giving him the time he needed. He yelled again to Dale, "That's it! Keep it up!"

Thirty more seconds to the cutoff.

Dale cycled the bolt action and aimed with a new confidence at the second boat. The operators of the lights were having a rather difficult time following Clayton's boat as they were swept back and forth in their evasive motions, so he turned the night vision back on.

Twenty five seconds.

Dale peered down the rifle and slowly squeezed the trigger once again. The hammer fell against the primer and set in motion the explosion inside the round. The spark traveled down the flash hole of the cartridge and ignited the powder charge. The burning gas propelled the seven-hundred-grain bullet forward with a deep resounding, Boom! The bullet spun faster and faster as it traveled along the rifled barrel. It exited the long barrel in a blinding flash and shot forth in an arc towards the second boat. The bullet hit the water mere feet from its bow. The operator panicked and jerked the boat hard to the right, nearly causing a catastrophic collision with his comrades.

Fifteen seconds to the cutoff.

The boats returned fire at Clay and the others, barely missing them. Clay could feel the shots as they pierced the thick night air around him. He ducked as low as he could in the vessel, minimizing his silhouette as much as possible. Dale huddled tightly behind the large rifle and continued to search for his targets. The wide sweeps taken by the pursuing boats made illuminating Clayton difficult, and accurate return fire more luck than skill. He knew that if Dale had frozen in fear rather than engaging the a.s.sailants as he had, they would certainly be dead.

Ten seconds.

Dale was finding a rhythm with the rifle. He began to work the action more smoothly as he fired off a steady volley of rounds between the two boats. He would alternate back and forth, back and forth, at his adversaries. His shots were hitting closer to their marks each time, but the boats stubbornly continued their chase.

One round finally connected with the second boat. The men panicked and slowed as the other boat shot past them at full speed. After several moments, they throttled back up and continued the chase from at a distance.

Five seconds.

Clayton could see his sanctuary rapidly approaching. He swung wide into the middle of the river so that his angle of entry would be straighter and his boat would be easier to control in the narrow strait.

"Hold on!" he shouted as he performed the maneuver. Dale wrapped his arms tightly around the rifle to keep from being slung from the boat. Clayton slowed only the slightest bit as he disappeared into river swamp. The adrenaline rush forced a high pitched howl from deep within him as they were engulfed by the thick canopy.

The predator had now become the prey.

With every additional bend and turn, the distance between the boats increased in Clayton's favor. He could have closed his eyes and navigated the stretch. They had tried him on the open river and expected an easy victim. Alone with only his old friend Moses, he would have been surely overtaken. With the bold display from Dale, however, their ambush had been thoroughly repelled. Now, if they were foolish enough to follow him into his sanctum, they would be his.

A little over half way through the cutoff, he killed the motor and guided them into a cl.u.s.ter of thick brushwood. He urged the three to remain quiet while he listened to the sounds of the boats as they ventured towards him on the dangerous waters. He whispered to Dale to get down in the bottom of the boat and comfort his mother and brother, while he reached for the M1 Garand.