“Zan, I have to give you props, buddy. Taking this barn was a good idea of yours.” He turned and took a good look at the huge structure, laughing at all the horseplay taking place inside as the guys got a chance to take a much-needed break.
“Well, boss, seemed like a good place to chill. Enough room for everybody. How long you figure we’ll stay here?”
“Not long. Sooner or later, we’ll need a bigger place if we want to—”
The second-in-command gestured for quiet, then slowly pointed at the bushes at the side of the door. He then drew his gun. Without knowing why, Nathan scooped his rifle off the ground, trained it on the bushes.
“Come on out, whoever ever you are!” Zan called.
Three heads popped out of the shrubs, faces Nathan didn’t recognize. They weren’t part of the gang, too innocent for that. Two guys—one redhead, the other a brunette—and a woman. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“We’re really sorry!” the woman cried. “We didn’t realize this was your barn!”
A smile eased onto the leader’s face. “Zan, call everybody over! Tell them to stop whatever they’re up to and get here now!”
“Yes, sir!” He shouted into the barn and gathered everybody.
Nathan took slow steps closer to the trio. They said nothing, but the fear on their faces told him this was a chance to have some fun.
Within minutes, the gang had gathered. They were perhaps as many as a hundred strong now. Larger and stronger than before—and also scarier. Nathan gestured for them to take a seat. “Looks like we found a few bandits, guys.”
“We weren’t stealing anything, I swear!” one of them called.
“Shut up!” Nathan answered. He turned to the guys. “Anybody with any idea on how we should handle them?”
A slow chuckle emerged, building gradually into full-on hoots and hollers. He cocked his rifle but stopped when he noticed the eyes of his audience seemed to be glossing over and past him. He turned and saw somebody racing toward them. It was Kyle, carrying a big bag.
“Got this from the hospital!” he announced, breathlessly placing it on the ground.
Nathan took a look—food, medical supplies, battery-operated gadgets. “Nice.”
Kyle went on. “A group of people came into the hospital. They came out of this big Hummer. I think they’re from that compound down the road I told you about.”
Nathan’s eyes sparked to life. “Really? You know that for sure?”
He shook his head. “Well, pretty much. I’ve seen the Hummer there, and one of the guys looked like somebody we’ve seen coming out of that place.”
“We’ll deal with all that later. But for now, we need to figure what to do with our friends here.” He lifted his rifle at the three visitors once again. He turned back to the guys. “Fellas! Which one would you dies first?”
They shouted a variety of answers—some demanded the redhead’s death, others the woman. Or the brunette. He stooped, looked each of them in the eyes. “I think we’ll let the woman live for a while longer.” Seeing her face bubble into horror like that brought joy to his heart. “There’s some fun we might want to have with her before she goes!”
A round of elated applause rose from the men.
Nathan poked the redhead in the chest with his rifle. “You, ginger! On your feet!” He shoved him against the wall of the barn, then slowly stepped back, raising his rifle.
“Wait!” the kid yelled. “We can help you!” he shouted, his voice a terrified shriek. Everybody fell silent.
“Help?” Nathan asked. “What are you talking about?”
“You want to get that compound, right?” the redhead asked.
“Yeah. What do you know about that?”
“We came from that place,” he said. “The three of us. We used to live there.”
He had the leader’s attention. “Keep talking. How can you help us take it?”
“Open our backpacks. Everything you need is in there. We know that place inside and out, I swear!”
Nathan grabbed their backpacks and tossed them over to Zan. “Open these up; see what’s inside.”
The dark-haired one added, “We can help you plan whatever you need.”
He stooped to gaze into the woman’s eyes. “You seem awfully quiet, snowflake. What can you add to the conversation?” She frantically wiped away tears. “Whatever you want, we can help you.”
He stepped away, studied their faces. “And your willing to betray your former housemates. Why?”
The redhead answered. “We were kicked out. We don’t have any loyalty.”
Zan stepped to his ear, quietly said, “A place like that could be nice. I get the feeling it’s well-stocked inside there. Plenty of food, heating, air-conditioning.” He held up some articles from the backpack. It had pictures of the compound’s inside.
Impressed, Nathan whistled. “Nice.” He turned back to the guys. “Sorry, fellas. No execution tonight.”
As they unloaded and headed back to the barn, he turned back to the three visitors. “Okay, talk to me. What can you tell me about this compound, and how can we take it?”
15
Fueled by urgency, Hatfield and the others sprinted into the compound. Cecil said, “I’m gonna get everybody up and in gear. Then we’ll have a quick rundown of how we will proceed once inside the hospital. It should only take a good five, maybe ten minutes. You and your family can hang out in the den till we’re ready. Then we’ll need you, Hatfield, if you’re sure you want to join us.”
“Like it or not, you got me, Captain.”
Hatfield and Jess went into the den, dragging the reluctant kids. Justin and Tami—especially Justin—wanted to peek into the hallway when they saw Cecil barrel inside a large dorm room lined with ten, maybe fifteen beds. “Come on, guys! Our business is in here.”
The den was a large room with a fireplace, a pool table, and a ping-pong table. A black vinyl couch lined the back wall, with a coffee table before it holding a pile of books, magazines, and board games. The ringing of an ear-splitting bell caught their attention.
Justin whined, “Man, no fair! How come I can’t be in their army?”
With a laugh and a head shake, Hatfield answered, “Unless you can talk them into lowering the age of their draft to twelve, you’re a little too young.”
As Tami fumbled through the magazines, sneering her nose at those related to sports and hunting, she found a few novels that caught her eye, then curled into a spot on the couch.
“Tami, I’m not sure they want us messing with that,” Jess said.
Something snagged her dad’s attention. He opened a box and found several old snapshots on top of a stack of papers. After flipping through a few, mostly finding young faces of homesteaders he’d briefly met, he saw a face that caused his face go slack. The pictures fell from his hand, landing in a mess on the coffee table.
His family looked up at him, puzzled. “What’s wrong?” Jess asked.
“Nothing’s wrong at all,” he mumbled, barely able to push the words from his mouth.
He then lifted a picture of five guys. A younger Cecil was one of them, his belly smaller, his beard black. He didn’t recognize three of the guys, but he couldn’t stop staring at the middle-aged guy in military fatigues as he sent a stern look into the camera.
“Who is that?” Justin asked.
Hatfield cleared his throat, then said. “Justin, Tami, Jess. That’s my father.”
Jess grinned, stroking her husband’s arm.
“Cool!” Justin yelled.
His wife pulled closer, spoke softly. “Handsome man. Kind of reminds me of somebody.”