Sundown in Zion
Chapter forty-nine
His cell phone woke Nelson at first
light. He lit his bedside lamp and answered. After a moment he said, “Today? I
thought we had it planned for tomorrow when they would be in church.” He paused
and listened. “How many got away?” He listened again. “That’s not bad for such
a large operation, but even two can spread the word fast. I’ll be there in 45
minutes. Where’s the assembly site again? Perfect,” he said.
Just as he swung from the bed, his
phone rang again. This time his face showed surprise. “Martin?” He listened.
“Spring break? Is it spring already?” This time the caller took longer. Then
Nelson said, “This isn’t a good morning, Martin.” He waited. “I have something
important to do.” He waited. “I know you are close by but I’m just leaving. Go
home and we’ll get together later.” He waited. “Martin,” he said with emphasis,
“I’m sure it’s important but you’ll have to wait. I can’t talk right now.” He
waited. “I can’t tell you. Wait until we meet. Signing off now.” He clicked
phone, pitched it on the bed, and headed for his closet.
The assembly site was the same
material storage area from where Deputy Cassidy had observed the exit from the
hunting club. There was a crowd awaiting him, including the Sheriff, deputies,
and FBI agent Tom Benson.
Nelson exited his truck and walked
straight to Benson. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said, extending
his hand. “To what do we own the honor?”
Benson took his hand. “A little
interstate trafficking,” Before Nelson could respond, Benson said, “Don’t
ask.”,
Sheriff Love interrupted. “I played
hell keeping them from charging the place before you got here. He pointed at a
SWAT team standing away from the rest. Then he acknowledged two men in street
clothes. “That’s Loeb and Leopold from the state police,” he said pointing at
the two.
“Caruthers,” said one.
“Dillard,” said the other.
“They and Efrem Zimbalist here,” the
Sheriff pointed at Benson, “have agreed to give you 45 minutes or until the
first sound of machine gun fire before going in.”
“I just want things to stay intact,”
Nelson said. “They could blow the whole works sky high if they sensed a crowd.”
He was dressed in black with a thick leather belt, also black, around his
waist. He wore black sneakers. It held a holstered knife and cell phone case.
“I plan to avoid contact as much as possible. I’ve had this funny little itch
in the back of my head though,” he said. “You know the kind you get when you
know someone is watching or tailing you? I’ll keep my rear eyes open and my
body well hidden.”
“We’ll apprehend any stragglers
here,” the sheriff said. “We also have a team watching the back gate. Take off
now.” He then said “Wait.”
Nelson had started but turned.
“What?”
“Take care,” the sheriff said, “and
don’t walk down any prepared roads or trails.”
“They taught us that,” Nelson said.
“We didn’t have to learn it the hard way like you guys did.” He pulled a sleeve
back from one wrist and checked his watch. He rolled it back, spun, and took
off running.
Nelson wound his way through thick brush
parallel for nearly a mile. Crouching under a large oak, he checked his watch.
He moved ahead with care until the gate to the camp came in view. Oddly, it was
open. Then the sound of vehicles approaching made him move out of sight and
freeze. A large suburban van appeared moving rapidly toward the entrance. A
late-model sedan followed. Both vehicles were black with heavily tinted windows
preventing any viewing of the interior. They passed and Nelson relaxed.
As the sound died, Nelson moved into
the compound. He skirted the road, looking to where cameras might scan the
approach. A large and meandering concrete block building came into view. Nelson
approached it from behind three other concrete structures of maybe 100 feet in
area. He noticed window highs on the exterior walls covered with smoked glass.
He ignored these and moved to the larger building. The door to it also remained
open. He backed behind one the smaller buildings and checked his watch. Silence
enveloped him.
There were no other vehicles in
sight. Moving slowly and cautiously, he entered the main building by sliding
against the front wall until he came to the entry door. He spun quickly and was
inside. A long hallway led past a living area and several sleeping rooms, all
with open doors as if the inhabitants had left in a hurry. He passed a kitchen
and reached a point where the hallway ended and two other halls intersected. He
looked both ways. Nothing was visible but the empty corridors.
Nelson chose the right corridor and
moved into with his back against the wall. He slid along it looking each way
with sideways glances. At the end of the corridor was on opening with a large
metal door hanging partway open. He eased to the door and looked inside. Then
he stepped quickly into a large meandering open space that circled the two
corridors. Inside the space, tubes, large cylinders and assorted paraphernalia
occupied every space. There were tables covered with containers, tools, hoses,
and assorted paraphernalia. A large stove-type structure with an exhaust hose
leading from it to the ceiling dominated the rear wall. Empty boxes advertising
Don Dilahuty’s Furniture store lay scattered about.
As Nelson surveyed the room, two things happened at once. A dull sound
like the “whoosing” of an incoming artillery round erupted from the far wall
producing heat a strong blast of white smoke. A voice crackled from a speaker
hanging from an adjacent wall. A voice he didn’t recognize for a second sounded
from the speaker as Nelson took the blast of smoke in his face.
“Welcome to my house, asshole,” the voice of Bully Bridges said. “I
promised ‘soon’ and guess what?”
Nelson had dived for the floor at the first sound and the gaseous
smoke enveloped him.
“It’s gonna get hot in a moment,”
the voice over the intercom said. “We’re closing the shop, and as our friend
Dale says, “we’re having a fire sale.”
“You might be having trouble seeing,” the voice of Bridges said. “You
might be gonna die too. I hope your last thought is that a pussy Navy SEAL is
no match for one of God’s own warriors. I won’t be around to watch it. I
figured you might have friends at the two entrances,” he said. “So I walked in
from another trail. I’ll be leaving the same way.”
Nelson moved but ran into one of the empty boxes and nearly fell.
Blinded, he extended his arms and tried to move forward again. Then the sounds
of flames became louder.
“I’m getting ready to leave now. Headed to a happier place.” He
laughed. “Not Heaven, but a happy place where if you got money, there ain’t no
end to the pussy you can get and the fun you can have serving the lord.”
Nelson walked into a counter and the sound of glass hitting the floor
joined with the sound of the crashing of material.
“We’ve had a good run here,” the voice said. “Got go now. Don’t want
to face the charges for killing that little fat bitch you were talking to.
Stupid she was. Said she remembered something and what she remembered could
have caused us some problems. We had our nest made anyway and were ready to
relocate. It wasn’t worth risking a murder charge. So yes, we killed the little
bitch like we beat up your pal. But hey, gotta sign off now. I’ll wait
for a few in case you find your way out. Better hope you don’t, asshole.
Anchors away.”
The sound of the intercom ended, and Nelson began coughing. As the
heat grew stronger, he reached down and pulled away a black nylon covering shielding his belt buckle. He punched the buckle and a piercing sound filled
the room. He turned and the sound subsided. He walked forward until the sound
started again. He swung in an arc until it stopped, and he walked forward,
coughing. Tears streamed from his tortured eyes.
The sound came again, and Nelson swung to his let amidst the now dark
gray smoke. When the sound dropped, he moved forward again. When nothing
happened, he moved forward more quickly. He was swinging in smaller arcs now as
the sound came and went. That let him to a quiet path. He had found the door.
Nelson moved quickly down the second hall he had entered, and using
his buckle, found the first. He turned and started a half run down it. The
smoke still burned, but the heat had lessoned. He ran until he heard the sound
again. With the same swiveling motion, he found the opening and ran through it.
His moment caused him to stumble as he reached fresh air. Using a
well-practiced roll, he landed without harm and rose to his knees. Less than
ten feet away stood Bully Bridges.
“Well, well, well,” Bridges said. “Ain’t we got the war hero here?
This is gonna be some kinda fun. Remember my pals that you fucked up?” he said.
“What’s happening next will be for them.” He moved forward.
Nelson’s eyes weren’t as red and swollen now. Had they cleared, he
would have seen more than the figure of Bully Bridges. As Bridges grew near, a
dark figure emerged from the around the corner of the building. It moved toward
Bridges from behind. Just as Bridges prepared to quick Nelson in the face, the
figure behind him said, “Hey, mister.”
Nelson tried to speak but only coughed. He drew a breath and managed a
loud, “No,” as the figure took a small step. Before Nelson could speak again,
the figure executed a perfect spinning Taekwondo move and a foot slammed into
the face of Bulling Bridges with a force that knocked snot, spittle, blood and
a partial set of dentures more than ten feet. Bridges staggered, turned, and
stumbled past Nelson toward the building’s entrance. He turned to make a stand,
but as he did, a foot came down where his neck met his shoulder. There was a
crunching sound and Brides tried to turn and run. He made it ten feet or so
inside the door before he collapsed into a heap.
Nelson had rolled over to avoid Bridges and was now on his feet.
Wiping a sleeve across his eyes, he looked hard at the figure now standing
before him. “What the hell?” he said.
“I thought you might run into some trouble and need another team
member, Martin Barker said. “Now let’s get out of here.”
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