different way. I’m afraid they’ve called in air support.”
Tyrone still sat on their prisoner. “Maybe we should hold out somewhere till daylight.”
“Well, we’ll need a barn or something to hide these vehicles in. Do either of you know the area?”
Tyrone spoke up. “I used to patrol this part of the county. There’s a little hamlet about six miles down the road. It’s got a junkyard. The guy that owned it is probably dead but I don’t know for sure. Anyway, he had a big metal building he used for a work shop. We might could break into that and park of our vehicles in there.”
“Sounds like our best bet. You get in front and lead the way.” Nate ran back to the truck.
“Where are we going?” Brian asked.
Atticus sped by.
“Junkyard.” Nate put the truck in gear and took off.
Deni had a thought. “If they asked for air support, it would’ve been here already. Col. Donovan’s choppers are not that far away.”
“I hear you,” Nate said. “Chances are Donovan knows nothing about any of this. These guys are covert. They may be taking their orders straight from the Pentagon and someone there might be taking his orders straight from the president. This is probably political bullshit. And I’m starting to think the so-called anarchists are also bullshit. Oh, the young punks are real enough, and they’re true believers – but someone has put anarchy nonsense in their heads.”
Brian narrowed his eyes and looked at his father. “I don’t understand. What you’re saying is just as crazy as what we’ve been thinking was going on before now. People have died because of this.”
Nate’s voice grew sharp and cold. “People die because of politics all the time, Brian. War is politics by another means. The number of people murdered in the last hundred years by their own g overnment is higher than the number killed in warfare. And wars are started and waged by governments. That’s not to say I’m against government. Government is a necessary evil, as our Founding Fathers stated many times. But it must be kept small, weak, and inexpensive.”
“I agree,” Deni said. “But a small, weak, inexpensive government is exactly what we have now.”
“But is it really a representative republic?” Nate kept his eyes on the road. “It seems most of those in power in Washington were elected only by voters in the northeastern states, and only a small number of voters at that.”
Deni tried to get comfortable in the seat, which wasn’t easy while wearing her heavy body armor and spare ammunition. “We’re not even certain those guys are Special Forces. But assuming they are, what’s the point of causing trouble around here and getting people killed?”
“That’s what I’m hoping our prisoner will tell us.” Nate saw the little community ahead and slowed, putting a little more distance between them and the cruiser.
They parked in a dirt and gravel driveway at the entrance to th e junkyard, which was fenced off with old roofing tin, so people couldn’t see the junked and crumpled cars, as they drove by. The fence of rusty metal roofing certainly didn’t spare anyone’s eyes any unpleasant sights. Flattened cars were stacked 30 feet high in places and they could be seen over the ratty-looking fence.
Someone yelled from out of the dark, “Who are you and what the hell do you want?”
Tyrone yelled back, “We’re with the Sheriff’s Department or what’s left of it. We need to park our vehicles in your workshop until daylight. We’re not here to arrest anyone or cause any trouble.”
“Tyrone, is that you?” The hard edge in the man’s voice disappeared. “It’s Sam Broker. I guess you didn’t think I survived the plague or the aftermath. But I’m still here. Let me unlock the gate and I’ll let you in.”
Chains rattled. A few seconds later, someone pushed the gate aside on its rollers. A skinny old man in dirty jeans and a brown T-shirt waved them on through. “Come on
Tyrone still sat on their prisoner. “Maybe we should hold out somewhere till daylight.”
“Well, we’ll need a barn or something to hide these vehicles in. Do either of you know the area?”
Tyrone spoke up. “I used to patrol this part of the county. There’s a little hamlet about six miles down the road. It’s got a junkyard. The guy that owned it is probably dead but I don’t know for sure. Anyway, he had a big metal building he used for a work shop. We might could break into that and park of our vehicles in there.”
“Sounds like our best bet. You get in front and lead the way.” Nate ran back to the truck.
“Where are we going?” Brian asked.
Atticus sped by.
“Junkyard.” Nate put the truck in gear and took off.
Deni had a thought. “If they asked for air support, it would’ve been here already. Col. Donovan’s choppers are not that far away.”
“I hear you,” Nate said. “Chances are Donovan knows nothing about any of this. These guys are covert. They may be taking their orders straight from the Pentagon and someone there might be taking his orders straight from the president. This is probably political bullshit. And I’m starting to think the so-called anarchists are also bullshit. Oh, the young punks are real enough, and they’re true believers – but someone has put anarchy nonsense in their heads.”
Brian narrowed his eyes and looked at his father. “I don’t understand. What you’re saying is just as crazy as what we’ve been thinking was going on before now. People have died because of this.”
Nate’s voice grew sharp and cold. “People die because of politics all the time, Brian. War is politics by another means. The number of people murdered in the last hundred years by their own g overnment is higher than the number killed in warfare. And wars are started and waged by governments. That’s not to say I’m against government. Government is a necessary evil, as our Founding Fathers stated many times. But it must be kept small, weak, and inexpensive.”
“I agree,” Deni said. “But a small, weak, inexpensive government is exactly what we have now.”
“But is it really a representative republic?” Nate kept his eyes on the road. “It seems most of those in power in Washington were elected only by voters in the northeastern states, and only a small number of voters at that.”
Deni tried to get comfortable in the seat, which wasn’t easy while wearing her heavy body armor and spare ammunition. “We’re not even certain those guys are Special Forces. But assuming they are, what’s the point of causing trouble around here and getting people killed?”
“That’s what I’m hoping our prisoner will tell us.” Nate saw the little community ahead and slowed, putting a little more distance between them and the cruiser.
They parked in a dirt and gravel driveway at the entrance to th e junkyard, which was fenced off with old roofing tin, so people couldn’t see the junked and crumpled cars, as they drove by. The fence of rusty metal roofing certainly didn’t spare anyone’s eyes any unpleasant sights. Flattened cars were stacked 30 feet high in places and they could be seen over the ratty-looking fence.
Someone yelled from out of the dark, “Who are you and what the hell do you want?”
Tyrone yelled back, “We’re with the Sheriff’s Department or what’s left of it. We need to park our vehicles in your workshop until daylight. We’re not here to arrest anyone or cause any trouble.”
“Tyrone, is that you?” The hard edge in the man’s voice disappeared. “It’s Sam Broker. I guess you didn’t think I survived the plague or the aftermath. But I’m still here. Let me unlock the gate and I’ll let you in.”
Chains rattled. A few seconds later, someone pushed the gate aside on its rollers. A skinny old man in dirty jeans and a brown T-shirt waved them on through. “Come on
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