John put an arm around Marshall’s shoulder. “I don’t want your job, I just want my family back.”
“Good,” Marshall said, folding the map and tucking it away. He turned to Moss. “Take Sullivan and gather thirty men. We’ll take eight vehicles along with the technical.” He was referring to the pickup with the twin ARs mounted on a pedestal. “In less than an hour I want the ambush in the forest north of Oneida set and ready to spring.”
For all their talk, it appeared Marshall had taken John’s advice. John only hoped the plan would work.
Just then an image of Diane’s battered face floated up before his eyes. His imagination was getting the better of him, a torturous impulse he’d tried hard to suppress since the kidnapping. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help wonder if she and the kids were all right.
Involuntarily, John’s hand slipped into his pocket, his fingers curling around the silver necklace.
Stay strong, honey. It won’t be long.
Chapter 18
Diane sat on the cot inside what appeared to be Oneida’s county jailhouse, wondering how long it would be before John would discover where they were and try to free them. She’d heard shots the other day and looked through the barred windows to see men on horseback galloping in the fields east of town. Not long after, she’d spotted a pair of trucks in the distance and assumed they were part of a group that’d taken a wrong turn. For a moment her heart had leapt with the notion that it was John coming to break them out, only to have that hope dashed when the trucks turned and drove away at high speed.
Sharing a cell with Diane was Kay Appleby, who seemed to be trying her best to put on a tough exterior, although she’d been crying secret tears ever since being thrown in here.
In the adjacent cell were the kids. Gregory, Emma and Natalie. Apart from a few scrapes and bruises, they hadn’t been too physically hurt when those men had arrived and demanded they hand over their weapons. But not every wound showed on the outside and Diane was sure seeing Tim shot and killed before their eyes was playing over and over in their heads. At least it was for her and surely for Kay.
At first, Diane had been upset that John was away when the attack had come, although after seeing what had happened to Tim as he tried to warn them, a bigger part of her was relieved. John wasn’t one to hand his weapons over to anyone and his fate would surely have been the same as Tim’s. She’d learned long ago from John that life was far different than how it was portrayed in the movies. Squaring off against a half-dozen armed men was child’s play on the big screen, but in the real world, it usually meant death.
Diane wrapped an arm around Kay’s shoulder and told her everything would be fine. They were alive and right now that was all that mattered. Kay nodded, absently, as though her mind were a million miles away.
“Natalie needs you right now,” Diane whispered, aware that Kay’s daughter was watching her mother slowly come unglued.
As strange as it sounded, being put in cells right next to one another was a blessing. It had given Diane a chance not only to keep an eye on Gregory and Emma, but also to reach through the bars and hug them.
Slowly, her awareness returned to her immediate environment. Coughs and other noises filled the jail. There were other cells in here as well, many packed with men, women and children labeled criminals for failing to obey the edict. A guard was posted outside and if he heard anyone talking, he would often barge in and whack a police baton against the bars, threatening to make you disappear if you didn’t shut up.
Still, it wasn’t completely clear why they’d been attacked and taken here in the first place. The men who had showed up wearing a mishmash of dark clothing and carrying rifles had mentioned something about a decree from the president. That the country was under martial law and the Constitution had been temporarily suspended. The next thing they’d demanded were the weapons, but by that time, Tim was already dead, likely for blowing the whistle and signaling the alarm.
The truth was, signal or not, those men in black had been on them so quickly, shouting and forcing them to the ground, that there hadn’t been much of a chance to resist at all. They were like those SWAT teams you’d see on TV—back when there was such a thing—swarming in and barking orders for everyone to get down and lace their fingers behind their head.
The toughest part hadn’t been seeing them ransack the cabins and then burn them to the ground. That had hurt, but the toughest part was knowing this little slice of heaven they’d designed and built was gone forever.
Diane got up and went to the window. Peering through the bars, she watched as the local townspeople went about their business. She’d come to discover the name of the man who ran Oneida, at least the title he went by. They called him the Chairman and all she’d been able to gather so far was that he ran the town in some official capacity for the federal government. She supposed the existing mayor hadn’t been willing to implement the harsh measures the Chairman was proposing, because he had also been thrown in jail. Nor was it very reassuring that he’d recently been executed after trying to escape.
Maybe some states were okay with folks messing around with their Constitutional rights, but not the people of Tennessee, nor a few other states she knew. Was hard to understand then why so many of the folks outside seemed to be cooperating. The alternative, she imagined, was sitting in a jail cell or maybe worse. For someone who was the sole caregiver to children or elderly parents, perhaps the risks seemed too great to stand up for what was right.
Diane turned to see a face peering in through the concave glass portal that separated the cells from the guard room. Then a terrifying reverberation sounded as the metal door was unlocked and the guard came in.
“She the one?” he asked, pointing his police baton in Diane’s direction. He seemed to be speaking with someone behind him who was standing in shadow.
A hushed voice confirmed her worst fears.
“Step back,” the guard told Kay, who rose from the cot and stood by the window near Diane.
“Today’s your lucky day,” the guard said and it took Diane a moment to realize he wasn’t about to beat her. “The Chairman would like to have a word with you.”
The guard led her through a series of locked doors to a hallway. Without electricity it was dark, although the building seemed to have been designed to take advantage of the natural light. Up ahead was an office, perhaps one that had once served a member of the jail staff.
Inside, a man sat behind a desk. Diane wondered if he’d been the one in shadow pointing her out to the guard. On the desk was a single candle that threw grotesque shadows against the walls. The way the man sat in the chair, hardly touching anything around him, the office didn’t appear to be his. Rather it was a secluded place where he could ask her a few questions, figure out if she knew anything useful. At least she hoped that was all he wanted.
“We’ll be fine,” the man told the guard. “Just wait outside till I call you, Jeffrey.”
Jeffrey closed the door as he left. The click as it snapped shut left Diane feeling decidedly uncomfortable.
“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here,” he said.
“Are you the Chairman?” she asked.
“The Chairman sounds so pretentious, I know. But it helps to remind people who’s really in charge. Charles A. Morgan’s my real name. You can call me Charles.” He grinned, a look that was supposed to put her at ease, but that long, thin face of his was doing anything but.