Fall Out

[The Stig]

“Lehman, you better have a god dammed good reason for this” shouted a clearly irate Senator Donovan. The deep tan and brilliantly white teeth looked odd in contrast to the deep scarlet hue that was seeping into the Senator’s cheeks.

Before Lehman could respond the Senator continued his tirade as he paced in front of the bodies of the men killed the night before. “This farm was protected you numbnut. You knew that. Why on earth you’d chose to knock on the front door, let alone assault it is beyond me. What the hell were you thinking?” Spittle flew through the air to punctuate the Senators anger.

Lehman, doing his best to speaking in short, measured tones, fought to choose his words carefully. “Senator, we had received information that ClarMar Farms was deeply involved in the insurgent activities in the county. That this farm served as an epicenter of the movement. The assault team was simply to retrieve the owner of the farm and bring her in for questioning. Only after the occupants fired on my men did they return fire.”

Anger flashed through the Senator’s eyes as he stepped in front of Lehamn as a drill instructor would yell at a recruit. “You were told to leave this farm alone. Directly by me. What part of that confused you?”

Pulling his shirt tight Lehman continued his losing battle over his emotions. “Sir, again, the evidence indicated there was insurgent activities….”

Before Lehman could finish Donovan’s rage boiled over. “So where it the proof fuckstick? You’ve searched the entire farm and found dick. Where is the proof?”

Lehman stammered, as he knew there wasn’t a shred of proof other then what the girl had given up. Suddenly Lehman doubted his decision the previous evening.

The Senator threw up his hands in disgust. “Stay here Lehman. I’m not done with you yet.”

****

The advance elements of Crutchfield’s forces rolled into Lexington several hours after sunrise. Immediately units rushed to take up predetermined positions on the south and east sides of the city. Their goal was to prepare for any counter attack from the President. This would allow the bulk of the armored spearhead to pass through the town on to their drive south.

As the first units pulled into the Lexington airport, the defenders breathed a collective sigh of relief. The airport would clearly be a major target should the President’s forces choose to counter attack. Worse yet were the harassment raids that had happened the previous few nights.

Last night was no exception. Damage was minimal however, the attacks kept the men on edge. Cargo wasn’t interrupted as the flights from the north had ceased, but the defenders at the airport wanted to prepare for when the flights resumed. The rockets that would occasionally sail in from the woods to the south hindered these preparations. Now that their manpower was boosted, they could finally launch a proper sweep through the area and prevent further attacks.

****

The Senator had worn a path in the dirt as he paced feverously. His impish aide frantically tried to keep pace as the Senator attended to a myriad of important matters in between yelling at Lehman and waiting for any sign of ClarMar Farm’s involvement in the insurgency.

As the day wore on, and the temperature rose, so to did the tension around the Senator’s makeshift command center. Lehman’s fate was looking dimmer as the minutes ticked by into hours.

Just as he was about to give up and throw himself on the Senator’s mercy, an act that sickened him, the radio crackled to life.

A team reported in announcing the discovery of DeMetrie’s compound, the weapons, supplies, and various signs of inhabitation. Even the old farm truck, bed full of junk, that was noted at the scenes of several attacks was found in a garage area.

As the details filtered in the noose around Lehman’s neck loosened somewhat. Even if he was sent packing to a camp, he at least had vindication that he had made the right call.

The Senator took in the reports and asked several pertinent questions before returning the radio to the operator.

Almost with a look of disgust he turned back to Lehman, “Looks like you got the last second stay of execution from the governor.” Lehman was smart enough to simply stay quiet and show no signs of emotion. Now was not the time for gloating.

“Look into it,” the Senator directed. “Once you verify it, run them into the ground. Don’t bother brining them in.” After pausing for a second he turned back to the stunned Lehman, “except Donner. I want her alive.”

Without any farewell the Senator and his entourage returned to their SUV’s and pulled out of the compound leaving Lehman to ponder his second chance in life.

As the SUV pulled out of the ClarMar the impish aide, who rarely interjected himself into the Senator’s business was able to ask about the future of Clarissa Donner.

After several seconds of contemplation the Senator replied in a tone akin to a serial killer before dissecting his prey, “Her? I’ve something special in mind for her.”

****

It wasn’t long before Caddy, Lowry and Reynolds returned to the cave. Their appearance bore evidence to the week they had spent in the field. Tired eyes, sun burnt skin and insect bites all bore silent testimony to the toll exacted on their bodies.

Even the usually jovial Lowry didn’t have much to say.

News of the recent turn of events only served to chill the mood further.

“Ok boys” announced DeMetrie, “Wish we could be bringing you back in for a hot shower, but we have to make tracks. Let’s try to cover some distance before it gets dark. We can slow down and rest more once night falls.” The plan to move during the day ran counter to accepted practice but DeMetrie counted on doing the unexpected to cover their tracks.

A weary grunt was all the reply he could elicit.

Miller, adjusting some of his gear and checking the contents of a pack tried to break the mood. “Look at it this way. If we can pull this off, and unfuck this soup sandwich, you’ll have a story to bore the snot out of people with for years to come.”

“Miller” Lowry piped up, “you’re alright but you really ought to leave comedy to the professionals.”

With a smile he prepared to head out ahead of DeMetrie and his men. Glancing at his watch Miller announced, “Ok, you’ve got your orders. If all goes well, we’ll be on the boats in two days.”

As he walked to the front of the cave Lowry offered up a parting barb, sign that he was regaining his spirits, “I see you’re off to do the light lifting again”. All of the men respected Miller and the risks he had taken in the fight against Donovan’s reign but that didn’t preclude a friendly jab now and again.

“I’m going to get some pie at a diner and take care of something. Don’t be late to the meeting point.” Miller quickly disappeared from the sight.

The four men simply looked at each other as silence fell in the cave.

[The Stig]

Miller slipped into the booth of the restaurant twenty miles north of Lumberton. The old roadside café was clean and impressive during the Eisenhower presidency. Those glory days had long since faded leaving the floor worn, counter chipped and few matching glasses. The service was good and food better, but the diner had the ambience of a bus depot.

Choosing the last booth in the corner, he was able to keep an eye on the door and the rest of the café in a single glance. Old habits die hard.

He was swept by a strange sense of déjà vu as the scene unfolded in front of him. It was at this very diner, in this very booth that Miller had reached out to their first fellow insurgent groups.

It really hadn’t been all that long ago. Less than a year but it seemed to be a lifetime ago. Miller had been here before, in the crushing aftermath of a blown operation a man can choose to wallow in self-doubt or press onward towards the stated goal.

Miller had an uncanny ability to stay focused on the root matter in crisis situations, and this case was no different.

But that didn’t preclude him from being tired. Physically tired. It was more than a lifetime ago when he hugged his baby girl or wife. Even petting his dog seemed to have happened in a different universe.

He willed himself to remember there were important tasks at hand. As he mulled over the hastily hatched plans he and DeMetrie had crafted he kept coming back to one central point: they were now squarely in the Senator’s crosshairs. No longer were they anonymous shadows. Life was about to get particularly hard as the Senator would relentlessly hunt them down.

Their only hope was their plan, and it wasn’t much of a plan at all. It all grew from a kernel of an idea that had been brewing for some time. Miller just didn’t count on the timetable being moved up so abruptly.

As the waitress brought over a piece of cherry pie, Miller awaited his dinner guest.

“Here you go sweetie” she said as she set the plate in front of Miller. “Anything else for you?”

Smiling a smile that belied his inner thoughts Miller simply replied, “no thanks.”

Someone had been passing information to the Troopers, possibly Donovan himself, for quite some time. It was this information that led to the various ambushes on the teams DeMetrie dispatched. It was likely this informant who tipped Lehman off to the existence of Julie Dawson. Men and women loyal to a cause died at the hands of this traitor. Lehman’s lead investigations man had been coaxed to give up the informant’s identity.

No matter how good the pie might have been, it didn’t disguise the fact Miller’s dinner date would not be a pleasant one.

****

In less than a day the majority of Crutchfield’s attack force was staged in and around Lexington, Kentucky. While there were reserve units trickling into town, and the sizeable force still fighting just across the river from Cincinnati, the main core of his troops pulled into town and moved into their various staging areas.

The stop in Lexington would be a brief one. Working steadily through the night Crutchfield’s men prepared to push on in the morning with a goal of heading southwestward, ultimately driving on Nashville. The original plan, that had failed so spectacularly, remained in place. Split the state in two and virtually surround the President’s forces in the Virginia and Carolina’s. From there Crutchfield would mount offensives from different directions. He’d already been given assurances from foreign interests that extra manpower would be available to augment his forces.

As the buzz of activity reverberated throughout the city something odd happened just before sunset. In the haze of the dusk light a flight of F15 fighter-bomber aircraft swooped in and screeched over the Lexington Bluegrass airport. Thunderous explosions rocked the area as men dove for cover and the limited air defense systems struggled to track the intruders.

Long after the roar of jet engines faded into the distance, and the dust began to settle, it was apparent what had transpired. The flight of twelve aircraft, darting in from various directions, dropped a mixture of laser-guided munitions for specific targets and cluster bombs designed to destroy runways.

Control towers, fuel tanks and the electrical generator plant were all transformed into piles of burning steel and debris. Runways were cratered beyond repair.

It was as if someone in the distance guided the bombs onto the target with a long finger.

As Crutchfield’s men surveyed the scene they quickly came to one startling conclusion: in one raid the airport, the only one large enough for the transports required to supply them, had been knocked out of service in one swift blow.

No airports of any size would be available between Lexington and the 150 mile distant Bowling Green, Kentucky. A deviation into Louisville was a possibility but would sap Crutchfield’s forces and disrupt the timetable laid out.

While smaller county and municipal strips existed along the route, and some types of transports could manage the short field operations, none of the facilities were large enough to handle the shear volume of goods needed to keep an army on the march. It wouldn’t be the first time in history an army had been strangled by its supply lines.

They were now totally dependant on the supply line back up Interstate I75 to Cincinnati for supplies. The drive on Nashville would commence as planned, but until the airport could be brought back into service, or Louisville airport captured, that single corridor became their only lifeline.

****

As the sound of jets faded into the distance, Tom Saxon whispered to his men. “Ok, back to the Delta rally point. We barely missed that last patrol and their going to come looking for us again after this last stunt.”

Silently, like ghosts moving through the mist, his small team of men disappeared back into the foliage.

Saxon smiled to himself. He liked helping to blow stuff up.

[The Stig]

I'd like to ask a huge favor of you folks. If you know anybody that had been kind enough to follow my stories at the previous website, please spread the word that they are housed over here. I am back to posting regularly and hope that those who read them previously will continue to enjoy them here.

Sorry for the commercial.

[bacpacker]

Stig,
I went over to the other site and posted the 3 stories being over here. Hopefully it will bring in some new folks to the forum.
There had been a few folks asking about them not too long ago.

[The Stig]

Ok...thanks.

BTW: don't stir up anything over there. I just wanted to reconnect with those interested in continuing the story, not start a turf war.

And FWIW I've got an idea for another installment past Fall Out. Not sure yet if i'll continue it past this installment or not yet. Don't want to run it into the ground.

[bacpacker]

I just posted that I had ran across the stories for those interested and provided a link.

[The Stig]

Miller picked over the remains of the cherry pie and fought to remained focused on the task at hand. Being no stranger to these situations helped somewhat, but the events of the past year had been so outside the norm that he had to mentally check himself to avoid getting distracted. .

Chuckling to himself he thought, “I’m a damn mess, Dink would monkeystomp me”. He missed his friend and partner in crime.

As the last bit of sweet iced tea washed away the cherry taste, and the sweat on the glass dripped onto him, Miller again scanned the parking lot for any signs of trouble. The diner was empty and it was difficult to approach by car without being seen from inside. An old man sat in the booth across the restaurant, nursing a coffee and staring off towards nowhere.

It was a calculated risk meeting the traitor face-to-face. They could just as easily bring a squad of Troopers with them to haul Miller off. Worse yet, it could be a tactic to lure him into an ambush. There were a lot of ways this meeting could go wrong.

But Miller banked on the basic human emotion of greed to keep him from getting in too much trouble. In this case, the greed of wanting to gather just a little more information. Get just a few more tidbits of information. He surmised that Lehman would likely be in hot water with Senator Donovan for the raid on the farm and would be looking to redeem himself. Bringing in Miller was one thing, getting the drop on the entire group was quite another.

Miller was betting Lehman was going for broke and would have the traitor attempt to arrange a situation that would have Miller, DeMetrie, Caddy’s team and Clarissa all in one spot.

What Lehamn wouldn’t realize was that was exactly what Miller intended to do.


****

“Captain, we’re all down for this but isn’t it a bit harebrained?” asked Lowry as the men moved through the pine trees and underbrush.

Not much had been said since Miller left the cave and the Captain outlined the game plan. Caddy, Lowry and Reynolds all sat in silence as DeMetrie calmly detailed the mission objectives, requirements and timetable. They were military men, used to taking orders and trusting their leadership. Lowry and Reynolds had been with the Captain long enough to trust him without question.

Without turning around to address Lowry, DeMetrie replied, “Now’s not the time to decide you’re disgruntled with management.”

The conversation died there as the men kept a swift pace. They had to cover a lot of distance in a short time. They’d already been moving for hours.

“I figure we’ve got an hour march to reach the first objective. We’ll creatively acquire more advanced transportation there,” announced DeMetrie.

Without pause Lowry chimed in, “now there’s something I can get behind: stealing shit.”

DeMetrie grinned briefly as they pushed on through the dwindling daylight.


****

Clarrisa and Klepper chatted as they passed away the time before Miller would return. She had already spent the afternoon in the basement and knew that it would be several more hours before he returned so they could move on.

As the day wore on the realization of her father’s sacrifice grew from a small seed of worry to acceptance of the awful truth. It didn’t take a pronouncement from Miller to understand that Greg and likely Captain DeMetrie and his men had been killed in the firefight at the farm.

She would process and deal with the emotions later, when this mess was over.

After a warm shower to remove the stench of house fire, gunpowder and sweat from seemingly every pore of her body, Klepper was kind enough to make her a hot meal.

“You think you’ll leave with us,” asked Clarissa, as if fleeing from your state to avoid being sent to a camp by a power-hungry Senator was as natural as deciding where to eat lunch.

Thinking for a bit Klepper replied, “no, I don’t think so. Miller thinks I should leave but this is my home. I’ve been trying to get my grandma over from Alabama so she isn’t alone. I can’t leave her behind.”

The cleaning man’s honorable desires spurred Clarissa to think about all she was leaving behind. A father. A business. Employees who would be without a job. All of her belongings and security. Everything.

It would take a long time to accept that life would never be the same.

[The Stig]

“Miller” said Tim Barnes after slipping into the booth, “this is crazy. What is going on?” Barnes’s anxiety level was palatable. The sweat that covered his brow was from fear, more so than the heat.

“Can I get you anything?” asked the waitress who seemingly appeared out of thin air. Years of waiting tables honed her ability to not be obtrusive.

“No, I’m fine,” replied the Reverend turned boat captain.

Miller looked up with his broad smile, “You know, I’m hungry. Bring me some eggs, bacon and toast please.” Turning to his dinner partner, “You really should eat Tim. You’ll need the strength.”

Capitulating, Tim agreed and the waitress left to attend to the orders.

Turning back to Miller in a hushed tone, Barnes continued. “The farm was raided, I haven’t heard from anybody and now a hush-hush meeting? Really, what’s going on Miller? This is getting out of hand.”

Smiling to himself, Miller outlined the events of the past evening. Inexperienced agents typically screw up under pressure. Barnes wasn’t cut out for the sorts of things he had involved himself in.


Miller hadn’t told him about the farm yet, and there was no way he could have known without communicating with Lehman and the troopers. It wasn’t like Miller needed further proof, the lead investigations man had, with some creative prodding, already told him everything.

It had started when Barnes church was burnt to the ground. He secretly placed blame for the event on Miller’s shoulders and was never really able to shake the feeling. The specter of wondering if he had avoided Miller that he’d still be preaching there ate away him.

Every time Miller played the hero and saved Barnes it only fueled his resentment. Being shuttled off to play with boats further reinforced his twisted vine of bitterness. Every time he felt diminished his anger towards Miller grew.

The final straw was when Barnes pieced together that Julie Dawson was Miller’s contact at city hall. Worse yet, one of his men, Lowry, had been sleeping with her to cajole her into acting on Miller’s behalf. When little things the three of them said clicked together his festering resentment for Miller turned to rage.

Barnes simply wasn’t cut out to deal with the cutthroat nature of what was happening around him. His anger boiled over and from there and it was easy for the Troopers to turn him.

So he slowly started feeding them information about Miller & DeMetrie’s plans. The time he spent at the farm made it easy to overhear morsels of useful information. The isolation at the boathouse made it easy to hand off the information unobserved. His information led directly to several of Demetrie’s teams being ambushed and destroyed.

It had been a juggling act to be around the farm and compound enough to pick up useful information, but not so much as to be noticeable. Occasionally, he’d gather a nugget from Greg Donner when the two talked business.

It was all worth it.

Waiting for the waitress to deliver the food Barnes asked, “So what are we going to do?”

Stabbing at a piece of egg that avoided his fork, Miller casually replied, “Tomorrow night you’re going to meet us with a boat. Bring the big one. We’ll saddle up and head up river under the cover of darkness.”

“We’re leaving?” asked Barnes. “Miller I know you hate to lose, but that’s really the best thing right now. Who all is going north? I hope you are evacuating the entire group”

“Oh yes, it will be everybody.”

A wave of relief swept over Barnes face as he realized Miller had already planned on doing what Barnes was prepared to convince him to do.

“Good. Good. I’ll have the boat ready and fully fueled. Where do we meet up?”

Continuing to chase the recalcitrant egg Miller answered, “Don’t worry. I’ll mark a map for you. Let’s do it after we’re done here.”

Barnes suddenly felt more at peace and relieved than he had in a long time. The bitterness and envy that consumed him prompted him to briefly imagine the scene when Miller realized he’d been had. In that brief second Barnes wasn’t afraid.

The two men continued to eat and discuss various aspects of their current predicament as if they didn’t have a care in the world; both of them feeling that they had the upper hand.

Sadly, only one of them really did.

[bacpacker]

I sure didn't see Barnes being involved with Lehman. Nicely Done!

[The Stig]

“Think this will work?” whispered Lowry with a broad smile, visible in the moonlight.

Reynolds merely nodded in agreement as the two men proceeded to break into the four seat, four-by-four truck. As Reynolds set about hot-wiring the truck Lowry unceremoniously dumped the contents out onto the ground.

They were outside stone quarry located far out in the rural part of the county. Figuring their misappropriation of the vehicle wouldn’t be discovered until people reported for work in the morning, it would allow for the four men to be long distant from the site.

More importantly, it would allow DeMetrie and his team to traverse the distance to the rendezvous point with Barnes’s boat in time.

As the last briefcase full of safety placards was dumped onto the ground Lowry quipped, “When I signed up for the Army I knew I’d make money for college but I had no idea this was one of the skills employers looked for.”

“Come on” was Reynolds only reply.

****

“That was a lot easier than I thought it’d be” thought Barnes to himself as he backed his pickup truck out of the diner. As part of Miller’s suggestion, he went to the men’s room for five minutes, at which point Barnes paid the bill and left. That would prevent them from leaving together in the event any prying eyes were watching.

Barnes allowed the pulsating wave of revenge to flow though his body as he slowly accelerated away from the restaurant. He had long ago quit wearing his crucifix and while there was a slight twinge of remorse he had allowed himself to be consumed by the feelings of helplessness and anger that had festered inside him.

Driving for a few miles he found a side-road that allowed him to pullover and out of sight of the main road.

As the truck rolled to a stop he reached into the console and retrieved a small satellite phone. Glancing around he punched a key code into the pad and waited the answer from the other end.

“Go ahead” came the sterile voice emanating from the receiver.

“This is Westone, I need the boss. Urgent.” Even though he savored the revenge on Miller, he always felt a bit silly with these code names and radio procedures.

“Standby” came the emotionless response.

As the seconds ticked by Barnes looked in the rearview mirror as if he expected Miller to drive around the corner any second. “That fool has no idea…..” was all Barnes could think to himself.

He was started with Lehman’s voice came across the radiophone. “Go ahead Westone”.

“Have coordinates and time for rendezvous with entire team” said Barnes somewhat triumphantly.

“Clarify Westone” came the reply.

Barnes keyed the microphone while looking around for a second time. “Entire team, all targets, will be rendezvousing attempting escape from area. I have time and location.”

“Go ahead” again came the lifeless reply. Barnes could never determine if it was a result of the technology or that all the Troopers indeed sounded lifeless.

After he transmitted the coordinates and time, along with a brief description of the plan, several seconds ticked by. Clearly the Troopers were absorbing the information Barnes was handing them.

“Any instructions for me?” asked Barnes with a bit of trepidation in his voice.

Almost without pause Lehman responded, “Proceed with your plans as instructed. Make rendezvous with targets. Will extract you after all targets have been liquidated.”

Without signing off the line went dead.

Barnes replaced the phone in its small compartment in the console and leaned back into the seat to contemplate the meaning of his instructions.

All he kept coming back to was the satisfaction he’d feel when Miller realized he’d been fooled. He could almost imagine the scene of Miller being hauled back to Shelton by the Troopers as he and Lehman gloated over their victory.

He was simply too inexperienced to realize Lehman had no intention of extracting him after the ambush. He would die along side Miller, DeMetrie and the rest.

****

The commanders in Lexington, Kentucky scrambled to top off the thirsty fuel tanks of their armored vehicles. Most of them contained sufficient fuel but the commanders wanted to drive as far as possible before needing another mass refueling. So word went down the line, all over the city, and soldiers sprang into action.

Like millions of soldiers through thousands of years before them, they uniformly began going though the tasks required to ensure they would ride into battle. Bradley Fighting Vehicles, M1A1 Abrams tanks and Stryker wheeled vehicles all over the city were soon being refueled, and in some cases rearmed.

They would be heading out before dawn to make the journey towards Bowling Green and ultimately drive on Nashville.

While the commanders seemed oblivious to it, the soldiers could almost taste the coming fight in the air.

****

“Well, that’s that” said the former Reverend, turned traitor, as he prepared to start his truck.

As he leaned over and searched by feel with his key for the ignition, he was startled by the sudden metallic tapping against the back window glass of the ClarMar Farms pickup.

Startled and whipping around in his seat he could make out the silhouette of a man crouched in the bed of the pickup. While he couldn’t tell who it was, he had a good guess.

“Out of the truck, slowly” came the calm and even toned command from Miller.

As Barnes opened the door the interior light came on and provided just enough light for him to see what had happened. The canvas tarp over the supplies in the pickup bed was pushed back revealing where Miller had hidden.
Still crouching in the bed of the pickup Miller smiled, “Oh, I might have fibbed a bit when I said I was going to the men’s room”.

The Glock pistol, although black, was clearly visible in Miller’s hand in the pale moonlight.

Confusion and fear growing in his stomach, Barnes stammered, “How…how did you know?”

“I didn’t,” said Miller. “I suspected someone was leaking information but wasn’t sure who until I had a little chat with one of Lehman’s men”

For good measure he added, “and your recent phone call sealed it”.

“Miller, listen…” started Barnes but Miller abruptly cut him off.

“Barnes, this isn’t going to play out like the movies.” Miller stayed calmly perched in the back of the truck while Barnes stood helplessly on the ground.

Barnes again tried to say something but Miller again cut him off.

“I don’t know where you went wrong Barnes, but you aren’t getting out of this” said Miller with a cold, even tone. He’d been in this position before and while he didn’t particularly enjoy it, he was more than willing to make sure Barnes didn’t cost any more lives.

As the fear boiled in his stomach he was repulsed by the feeling of weakness and shame. Somehow Miller always made him feel this way. His eyes narrowing to slits Barnes’s consumption by his rage was complete. Gone was the good-natured soul who wanted to help a cause that stood in the way of tyranny. In his place was a man plagued by fear and doubt who allowed himself to be corrupted by anger and resentment. It was a classic tale that had repeated itself throughout the millennia.

“I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you Miller” he spat out. “You ruined my life you bastard. You took my church from me. You just had to play hero and in the process have been destroying the people around you. You aren’t a freedom fighter. You are a terrorist plain and simple”.

Barnes stood seething with the rage that pulsed through his veins. Chest heaving and falling as he suddenly found himself out of breath.

“You done?” was all Miller said.

As he stood in the pale moonlight Barnes continued to feel the hatred for Miller that he had fostered over the past few months. He had entered into a Judas agreement and saw no reason to turn back now.

“You know I’ve told them about the farm in Wyoming” he said, evil pulsing in his eyes.

Before he could say another word the Glock barked out twice in rapid succession. The first round caught Barnes in the shoulder and spun him to his left. In doing so, the second round crashed into his exposed right ribcage and transected both lungs and nicked part of his heart.

As he crumpled to the ground Miller carefully made his way down from the bed of the pickup and walked over to Barnes. Struggling for breath the former reverend looked up at Miller, blood frothing from his mouth.

Unlike the movies there were no final threats, no witty barbs. No last second requests for mercy.

Miller simply pointed the gun at Barnes head and pulled the trigger.

****

After pulling Barnes body off the road and stashing it in a clump of holly trees, Miller used his pocket knife to peal the ClarMar Farms” sign off the side of the truck. Fishing around through the tools in the pickup bed Miller retrieved a screwdriver and promptly removed the rear license plate.

If he got stopped he’d at least have a slim chance of talking his way out of it.

Figuring they were still close enough to civilization for the shots to be heard, and attract attention, Miller felt it wise to depart the area as soon as possible. He had to go back to town to get Clarissa before putting the next step of their plan in progress.

As he drove down the road, on his way to some of the more backcountry roads, Miller couldn’t help reflect over what Barnes said.

Whistling a sad tune to himself he drove on through the night.