Chapter 3

 

 

“Let him go. Take me.” Ben was now about twelve feet from Zac and his abductor.

“I’ll let him go when I’m ready.” They were nearing the transport. “Back off. I ain’t warning you again.”

“Dad, no, go back. He’ll shoot.”

“Okay everyone, let’s just calm down. I can guarantee you safe passage. I’ll even give you an escort, but you’ve got to let the young man go.” Billie still held out his hands in front of him, palms up. “I’m not armed. I’ll give the order and my men will drop their guns, too.”

“You think I’m crazy? I’m going to ditch my insurance policy ‘cause you promise something? I wouldn’t get a mile down the road before you’d sic your posse on me.”

Stay calm. Watch. Keep your mouth shut. Ben’s internal dialogue wasn’t doing much to soothe his frayed nerves. The guy was tall enough so that Zac’s head barely came up to mid-chest. Room for a sharp-shooter to get a round off. But he’d run the risk of a reflex reaction and the gunman would pull the trigger. There was an area—a triangle running from the edge of an eye to the middle of the cartilage between the nasal passages that meant a quick death. A bull’s eye hit in this area produced an immediate kill and negated the flinch reflex. Or so he’d heard. It would take some target-perfect marksmanship.

Suddenly he thought he had lost his hearing. The shot was deafening. But the visual of the explosion and burst of bone and blood spraying outward as the body of the trucker was thrown backwards would never leave him. The police lieutenant prone on top of the SUV was literally dead-on from forty feet; it was a sniper’s shot with probably an F-Class rifle. Billie must have given orders when he first saw what was happening.

Billie picked up the trucker’s gun as Zac hurled himself into Ben’s arms.

“I was scared, Dad, I was really scared.”

“I was, too, son. You’re safe now.” And no more words were needed. Ben just hugged his son to him. Even Billie didn’t interrupt. When Ben looked up, he realized that the NBC reporter was motioning for him to join the TV crew, but Ben declined. It was obvious that the cameraman had captured all the action. He felt certain that they had made the six o’clock news as it was. His comment or even Zac’s wasn’t needed. Zac’s mother, Raven, would be on the phone the minute she saw what had happened anyway. And Julie? She’d be scared to death. He’d call her the minute they were free to go.

But that wasn’t for another two hours. A lot of questions, a lot of paper work. A tow truck finally showed up to take the eighteen-wheeler to an impound. The body was released to be taken to the county coroner’s office back in Gallup. There was a little confusion about jurisdiction, and the FBI would inevitably get involved, eventually. Rules and regs for Indian land could be confusing. Finally, they were released to go. It was after five in the afternoon and they still had an hour of driving, then unloading and setting up a place to live.

Ben had been given a list of items they’d need—all household goods, pots and pans, bed linen, towels—duplicates of everything he and Julie had in storage. They’d set up delivery to occur when they had a place in south Florida. Who knew Ben would need household goods now? And it made him think that IHS wasn’t treating this as a short-term assignment—not just a long weekend anyway. He’d worry about the timeframe later; right now he needed to make certain that Zac was strong enough to put this incident behind him and not suffer any further trauma. PTSD was real and a possibility. Talking now would be helpful in keeping it in check.

 

* * *

 

The ride to camp passed quickly. Ben gave Zac a chance to talk, ask questions or whatever, but he rode quietly, only once commenting on how pissed his mother was going to be and followed up the comment with a grin before he asked if Ben really thought they’d be on TV.

“Yeah, but I nixed the Today show for tomorrow morning.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m just kidding. Even if they called, we’re going to be busy setting up camp for the next week, maybe longer.”

And that turned out to be an understatement.

The tiny dots in the distance grew larger until the thirty FEMA trailers fanned out in front of them. Wasn’t that a dozen more than the chief had said there would be? There was a distinct ‘circle the wagons’ effect to the placement of the temporary living quarters—they all faced six huge white tents in their center; again, Chief Billie said six would be in place, that is, if all of them were hospital tents. The tents had to be able to hold twenty to thirty beds. That would be up to a hundred and eighty very sick people at capacity. At least the tents offered more room than the trailers. Important when bulky hospital beds and equipment were required. The magnitude of it all was beginning to sink in. This was preparation for a worst-case scenario. And that could very well be where they were headed.

According to insignia and the half dozen military-type vehicles to the side of the road, both New Mexico’s and Arizona’s National Guard were the builders of the tent city. Several men were carrying basic items of hospital furniture into the two tents closest to Ben’s truck. All were masked and maintaining six feet of distance between them.

In addition, there were several outbuildings—one marked showers, several others obviously toilets. Had he been warned that the plumbing was really just outhouses? No. Would it have made a difference? No, he was here to help. And it looked like he was getting in on the ground-floor, judging by the flurry of activity everywhere he looked. It appeared that digging was in progress for what appeared to be container septic tanks. Heavy plastic and metal receptacles were stacked to the side of the first row of trailers. The set-up had a feeling of being new, and had a certain lack of permanence. The health care units, tents, in front of him marked a temporary settlement, much needed and well-planned but not set up to last indefinitely. How long would the temporary hospital tents be needed? Ben was certain he wasn’t the only one who wished he knew.

A cluster of hogans, plus wooden sheds—some possibly homes—were about a quarter-mile farther to the west. But that was the beginning and the end of established civilization. A corral and a makeshift building with eight stalls was to the right of the first FEMA trailer marked ‘Office’. He supposed out here horsepower was just that—a way to get around provided by a horse. Someone had graded a makeshift road and thrown some gravel on it. The road crisscrossed in and out between the trailers, the office, and the existing hogans, before meeting the asphalt that they’d driven in on.

“Looks like that’s where we need to go first.” Ben pointed to the office. Four men sat on the steps, one getting up when he saw Ben pull in and motioning for him to park closer to the building and back in.

“This is our temporary storage until we finish the hospital area. We crammed a couple desks in the front here and left the rest of this building vacant for keeping the necessities close at hand.”

“Do you know which of the trailers is yours?” Another man walked forward. “I’d be glad to help you unload.”

“I don’t have a clue.” No one had given Ben the particulars—he’d packed a suitcase, borrowed a truck loaded with hospital supplies, and taken off. Maybe he should have been better prepared. Now he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t purchased some basic household goods—storage or not. It probably wouldn’t have hurt to have doubled up on basics. They might be sleeping on bare mattresses until he could get Julie to unpack what they needed out of storage and send it. Looked like his first job would be to take inventory and make a list. One thing he hadn’t even given a thought to was what they would eat. He’d bet money on the trailer not being stocked. And he’d stake his life on the fact that there wasn’t a restaurant within fifty miles, let alone a grocery store.

“Well, let’s go in and find out where we’ve been assigned.” Ben parked to the side of the office trailer.

“Coming?” Ben turned back to ask Zac.

“I’ll wait here.” Ben nodded. There was a certain security to waiting in the pickup. He heard Zac lock the doors behind him as he followed the man up the steps.