explosions drowned out the recording and suddenly the sound went to
static. The broadcaster was back but Murphy reached over and shut off the
radio.
“It’s like this
everywhere. It started small, with the riots, and now it’s come to this,”
Murphy whispered. “When they called me up, they said it was for riot duty
downtown—we didn’t last more than a day. We were stupid; we came rolling into
town in our trucks. We put up yellow tape and wooden barriers, like it was some
kind of peaceful protest. At first they ignored the barricades and stayed away
from the roadblocks; then we watched them take down pedestrians and the weak
right in front of our eyes. They ignored us, just staying far enough away so that
we couldn’t stop them. We were ordered to hold; to contain the line… that the
police were supposed to do the arresting.
“After dark, they started
to bunch up together. Their numbers had multiplied. Suddenly they came at
us—not trying to get past us—they actually wanted us ! They would reach
through the shields and snatch people. They’d pull someone back, and they’d
pass them deeper into the mob like a baton. I watched many of my own men
dragged off, and there was nothing I could do to help them. The normal stuff
didn’t work. Tear gas, rubber bullets. Sure, fire hoses knocked them down, but
didn’t stop ’em.
“We fought hard, but we
couldn’t hold them back. By dawn, we were using lethal ammo… but they still
came. We… we were killing them by the hundreds, but they still came and grabbed
us.”
Murphy pressed back
against the seat and took a long drink of water from his drinking tube. He let
out a long sigh. “Just before dawn, orders came to pull back. We loaded up in
the trucks and prepared to move out, but…”
“But what?” Jacob asked.
“I saw them,” Murphy
whispered.
Stephens nodded. “I know,
brother. I saw it too; we all did.”
“What? What did you see?”
Jacob asked impatiently.
“The soldiers—the ones we
lost, our friends. They were back but changed… still wearing their riot gear. They
marched with the mobs,” Murphy said.
Jacob leaned back in the
seat. “This is all bullshit. It had to have been something else. Maybe another
unit, a group you didn’t know about, in stolen uniforms.”
Murphy nodded and turned
his head to look out the window. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
Stephens started the
car’s engine and put it into gear. “We need a place to hole up.”
Chapter
10
The patrol car rolled
slowly down the center of the empty road as Jacob surveyed the small industrial
park that was coming up on their left side. Only a block from the two-lane road
that led to the park encampment, it would make for a perfect hide.
Stephens slowed the car
until it was rolling just above idle speed, then turned into a paved drive that
faced a building with a double overhead door. The wheels crunched as the car
maneuvered over broken asphalt. A large sign at the front of the building
labeled it a commercial heating and cooling sales shop. Stephens eased the patrol
car forward, then stopped it in front of the door—close, but not so close that
he couldn’t turn and flee if need be—then reached down and shut off the
ignition.
“Why here?” Jacob
whispered, still frustrated they were not going straight to the park. He was
growing anxious with worry about his family.
“This building looks solid
enough: only one door in the front, no windows, steel overheads,” Stephens listed
off patiently as he dropped his arm and secured his rifle. He reached up,
popped the dome light cover, and removed the bulb. He held a hand on the door
and used his other to slowly pull the latch so that the door quietly released
under pressure while Murphy did the same on the passenger’s side.
Jacob waited and watched
as they quietly let their doors swing shut. Stephens opened the back door, and
Jacob realized for the first time that there were no handles on the inside
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham