THE QUEST

I leave this rule for others when I'm dead,

Be always sure you're right-- then go ahead.

David Crockett.

“Tell him to go to Hell.”

Response to Santa Anna’s demand for surrender.

We sure liberated the hell out of this place.

American soldier in the ruins of a French village {

1944} quoted by Max Miller

The Far Shore 1945:

The Quest

Chapter One

Looking back I can see the mistakes I’d made. I should have hooked up with anybody but them sorry bastards. (The FEDS) But you see there’s a bit of the rogue in me. I’d seen it too many times, some lowlife being allowed to walk. I had to at least try. It was late 1962, and life was messy for all Americans.

I was just a common joe trying to make an honest living. But them guys that came into our town . . . just flat pissed me off. They called it protection from the scum. What it actually was . . . was extortion.

My twin brother, and I were so much alike in some ways, but were as different as night is to day in others. I was the bastard rebel and he was the one that usually followed the rules.

But rules should be for all, not just the good guys. I do have to tell you, that I do understand that without rules we’d have anarchy. That wouldn’t be good for any of us and it would only serve as a purpose for the government whatever may be left standing, to come in and do a gun seize.

There’s mo telling how many innocent people would be killed, and that would only fuel the anger of the citizens. An anger that in ways would be justified, but as usual some would have their own agenda. You know the type the self-serving assholes that see dollar signs in every transaction they do consider.

I guess that was why my brother became a cop, and I was a roughneck. He moved away from Borger Texas, and I stayed where my heart longed to be.

He married a sweet lady, and I married her cousin.

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He moved to what could only be described as Mayberry RFD, and I stayed in the old neighborhood. The place where I’d learned to fight, and develop the morals, that I’d hoped to pass on to the son I’d one day have.

Before you go righteous on me, let me give you an idea of my morals. Never lie, cheat, or steal. Give a hard day’s work, and expect good pay for that day’s work. Honor your family and friends, but above all else honor yourself. In other words never go against who and what you really are.

Things would have not gone so crazy, had them bastards not messed with my wife’s aunt. I liked the lady simply because there was no backup in her. She ran a boarding house for years, and she’d not let any of them roughnecks get away with any crap.

I was living there when I met my future wife, and then Rob met her cousin. I think the lady knew that I’d sneak a bottle into my room, but since I never caused trouble she’d let it pass.

Then those two men came to see her with their bullshit list of Do’s and don’t’s. She looked them right in the eye, (which was kinda hard since she was only about five foot four) and told them to go straight to hell.

Luck was on her side that day, I just happened to come in at the right time and when I saw them, I knew who and what they were about. I took the fight to them rather than to wait for their personal invite.

I rushed in and broke the first man’s nose, and kicked the second man across the right knee, and choked him down and grabbed a handful of hair and clocked him with a hard right. “You boys had best leave while you still can.” I told em through gritted teeth.

The one that, could still speak, glared at me and cursed me, and of course told me that I’d made the standard very big mistake.

I stood my ground, and then after several seconds of very uncomfortable silence, they quickly and without another word left.

Lady Lane as we called her walked over to stand by my side. “Dobs that was

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not a smart thing to do. They’re going to come after you now, but I guess my own conduct was not exactly at it’s best.” she said as an afterthought.

“Don’t worry Lady Lane, the boys will watch your back when I’m not here. You know how we all feel about you.”

She smiled in that special way that she had. It was kinda like when a kid says the right thing, and brightens up his mom’s day. I guess in a way that’s what we were to her: Her Boys.

“You got enough to worry with.” She said simply. “The job and my niece, and the life that you’re hoping to build.”

“You’ll become part of me when I marry June. She loves you, and if you must know, just in case you don’t NOBODY messes with my family.”

She once again, gave me that look. She certainly had a way of making a man feel a lot taller than he was.

She was to become my aunt in just a few days, and it violated my sense of family honor not to protect her. Rob, and I never really got to know either of our grandparents, but I’d like to think, that at least one of our grandmothers, was as spunky as Lady Lane.

That has to be where I got it from, that take no crap type attitude. I was the one that was always in trouble for fighting, and Rob was the level-headed one. He could walk away and still keep his value of self-worth.

Don’t get me wrong, for Rob was tough, and could really stomp ass when he was pushed. He just didn’t do it as often as I did.

June and I were married three days later, and so far nobody had tried to push Lady Lane or me since that day. I wasn’t fooled for a minute. I knew that when it was least expected, they’d strike out in the usual cowardly fashion that their kind always chose.

Cowards and human nature very rarely ever change.

The friends a man chooses should be used to judge a man. Those that stood

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with me must have been cut from the same cloth as I was. Many of the men had stopped drinking, so to keep a much clearer head. They of course had called in more friends, to help watch over our families. Soon there were about three hundred more people living in Borger. Good people, just a different breed. This didn’t set well with that group of assholes. They were sitting up for a full scale war. Shop owners were sending a few of them to the morgue, but many were just sent with their tail between their legs.

The cops in our town weren’t cowards, but they could only do so much to protect and to serve. It would seem that even back in the sixties the bastards would go in one door, and then give that cocky smile, as they walked out another.

Several very good cops had been killed under very suspicious circumstances. I knew that it was murder, my friends knew that it was murder. Sadly, the other cops as well as the D.A. knew that it was murder. But proving it was murder was another matter.

The bastards were just well connected, and that somebody just always had someway of getting them off the hook.

More and more people, had picked up a gun and joined in the fight for freedom. They’d had their fill of the lowlifes, and they were going to take their town back.

Rob had wisely stayed in his neck of the woods, his wife was expecting their first child. To tell you the truth I was glad that he’d decided to stay out of this one. He was a cop, and that would have made him a target. While I knew with him by my side I’d not fail, I wanted my brother to be safe. I wanted his family to be out of the line of fire. I’d chosen to stay here. It was me, that had chosen to throw down the gauntlet. To this very day I still take full responsibility for my actions in those days. But I’d missed out on so much, I’d missed Rob getting married. Travel wasn’t wise then.

It was open season on pretty much everybody that dared to travel. It also

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wasn’t always wise to carry a gun, even under the circumstances. You know about speed traps, some towns had gun traps. Get caught with a gun and you do time and you also lose your gun.

June smiled as she left the doctor’s office, maybe this would be the right news to brighten up their lives. Maybe even convince her husband to leave this stink-hole town.

In her mind her husband was a good man. Very honorable and loyal. They say all men have a price. But not Dobson Macalister. He’d hold onto his morals and values to his dying breath.

She smiled knowing that she’d just answered her own question. Dobs would never run. He’d beef up security around her, but he’d never run, he’d never hide. In the words of Shakespeare: To thy own self be true.

The men that followed him were very loyal, and then there were the cops, they all liked and respected her husband. They had hired private security for their own families, and they’d worked out a deal for her and the other ladies’ protection as well.

The resistance was growing larger and Texans was once again fighting for their independence. They were fighting organized crime, they were also fighting the law in a very odd sense of the matter.

The laws are supposed to protect, and give the same rights to all. The real enemy would soon raise its head and snarl. Then attack the country.

She knew that if Dobs did run, he would not be the man that she loved. If he hid, then he’d cease to be true to himself.

“No-Way-Baby.” She said with a laugh.

Her man may not be of the rarest breed, nor-may he have a lot of class or style. Style and class, being in the eyes of the viewer. But he was a leader.

That was a rare quality to have, considering the time era. Honor, valor and courage were only something you saw in some John Wayne movie. Duty was also a very foreign concept, for most people. Decency most certainly had many people stumped.

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It seemed like so many wanted to do the things that would define them in a good light but, were afraid of the repercussion of their actions. The people had lost something that was needed, and was slowly being bred out of them. Reprogramming perhaps?

If Dobs’s eyes ever turned dry ice cold, and he got that certain tone got in his voice people knew it was wise to listen. He preferred the direct approach: Broken bones and lots and lots of teeth littering the street.

His exact words cut to the bone, “Subtleties has no place in dealing with scumbags. Lawyers and politicians, are all cut from the same cloth. In the real world a lawyer is the scumbag’s best friend, and the politicians make the laws. It’s an endless circle. It’s almost as if they all want the decent people to rebel.” Blunt and always to the point.

Style and class? It all depends on which side of the fence you’re standing on. Dobs, always spoke clean around women, he hated crude talk around women.

Rob Macalister smiled as he shook his head and then put the evening paper, on the hassock beside his chair. His brother was still the same ole Dobson. Hell-raiser to the max. He was a good man, he just always found himself in the middle of some fight.

As children Dobs would confront the bullies head on. His ingenuity would always amaze the teachers and their parents. One very large boy with the IQ of a rock had forced Dobs into a fight.

Dobs had a sock wrapped around his hand. He stood there hoping that there would be somebody to stop the fight...dream on.

His name was Jeremy Slate and his problems stemmed from the fact that his parents were too closely related. Cousins to be exact. “Hey Dobs after I kick your ass, you can polish my knob.”

“That was pretty good Jeremy, you must have been working on that one all year?”

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The boy gave a low grunt and took a step toward Dobs. “You’d best watch your mouth boy, or I’m gonna make you hurt a real long time.”

“You already are Jeremy your face is killing me. You still falling face first into privy pits shithead?”

Jeremy screamed his rage and rushed Dobs.

His brother slowly relaxed his hand and the sock dropped from the weight of the rock. Dobs stepped to one side and swung with all his might. The rock catching Jeremy flush on the jaw.

Jeremy stood there for a moment, his eyes showing the obvious pain he must have felt. He opened his mouth to speak, and several teeth fell from his badly damaged mouth. His eyes slowly crossed and he fell to the dirt road.

The cheers from the other kids seemed to echo all around them. Jeremy was not liked by even one person. Well except for maybe his parents. (talk about unconditional love) Even good, “ole Reverend Davidson” disliked the boy, and he liked and prayed for everybody.

Regardless of their love for their child Jeremy’s parents just couldn’t in good conscience just insist on justice being served. They’d heard the stories from reliable sources of Jeremy’s depraved acts on the girls at the school, and all his other sick deeds were just endless.

Dobs walked free on that one, and many other infractions.

The Quest

Chapter Two

* * *

If he’d known with clear certainty, that it would not screw up a perfect plan, he’d just get into his old pickup and go help his brother.

A cop on vacation might send the bastards into a tailspin. But with the trouble spreading throughout Texas he didn’t want to leave his wife and newborn son unprotected.

He could feel it in his soul, his twin brother was having fun. He was kicking the asses of the puke, and so far all was well for his family.

There was more than just a biological connection between him and Dobs. They were best friends, and they’d always had the other’s back. They and the group that they had always ran with, had always fought with the same savagery, when protecting each other.

If things had not gone the way they had for Dobs, he was for sure to have become a Preacher. When they were children he was always reading the Bible, and would say daily prayer. But then he began to change.

The big change had come, just after he’d fought the Slate boy. That fight lead to a second then a third. Most of those bully types took his brother’s gentle ways completely wrong. Then push would come to shove...it was almost as

though fate, or God, was stepping in stating very loudly: “No way! Uh-uh. No-way

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in hell are you ever going to preach the word.”

Their father was a mixed combination of his twin boys. Their sister was exactly like their mother. She’d pick up a gun before she’d ever think of picking up a skillet. Rob gently smiled as he thought of his big sister.

Sara Ann had moved to England after she had fallen in love with Sir Robert Clary. This was all long before the trouble. (It was all very proper) She’d stayed with his family while Sir Robert had set about completing certain tasks.

Then-there was their youngest brother Joe. He was the enigma. He was a fighter same as Dobs but he was also very studious. Sir Robert had asked if he’d like to go to England to continue his education. The boy was seventeen at the time. Joe Macalister didn’t have to be asked twice.

Rob wondered what they’d all think about what was going on in the Lone Star State. He knew for certain that Sir Robert was not a stranger to fighting. He’d been forced into a fight with Richard Jamison, when he’d come to Borger, looking for his bride.

Jamison was a large brute of a man, and was also a mental midget. He’d for years told everybody, that he and Sara Ann, were going to get married. He’d also told certain types of people, that he and she had done the deed many times.

He had very brazenly challenged Sir Robert to a fight.

It was certainly a good fight, but Richard was outclassed from the start. While he was carried away by his buddies Sir Robert was standing by drinking a beer. Rob smiled as he repeated the words: “Mine honor is my life; Both grow as one; Take honor from me and my life is done.”

Sir Robert was forever quoting Shakespeare, Lord Byron, and many other men, that he and his family had respected. It certainly made the Macalister’s rethink their concepts of people in England.

Sir Robert was certainly every bit the philosopher. He would talk to Dobs about codes of conduct, family honor, and another codes of honor that a man must abide by. The honor that resides within the heart of a man. The one that will tell

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a man what is right and wrong. When it’s time to walk away, and when it’s time to take a stand. The code of honor, known as The Quest.

I smiled as I thought of my sister and her husband Sir Robert. It had been him, that helped to explain to me what I was feeling. We’d talk for hours on the subject of honor. He’d tell me stories of his family. This was not done to brag I’d

asked questions and he’d answer. He’d usually avoid the subject of his father.

He’d tell me stories about other men of honor that had helped to shape the nation now known as America. Men that took a stand, and even though they’d known, they were going to fall had continued on with The Quest.

I listened in school, but I mostly paid attention to Barbra Wick until I found out that she was a walking sperm bank. But when Sir Robert told me of those men, I felt something click on inside me.

A man has got to be known for something, other than the job he goes to five or six times a week. I wanted to be known for a hell of a lot more.

I also wanted to be a man of honor, like those men Sir Robert had told me about. Hey, I was still pretty much a kid at the time. I had so many ideas and dreams of what made a man.

My Gramps was such a man, and I felt that I’d be in very good company. In his younger days, he too had been a hell raiser. Things didn’t change much when he got older.

Except maybe his patience wore thin a lot quicker.

Sadly Sir Robert left shortly after Grams died, and I didn’t get to see him very much after that.

I have Gramps’s temperament, and so many have cautioned me time and again, that it would be my temper that’d be my downfall. Looking back I’ve often wondered what would I change if I could.

Simple answer: I’d never have allowed my wife to ever join the fight. But she was too much like me, and she would have joined whether I approved or not.

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I’d given her my word to keep our son safe...by all that is Holy, I did that much by God.

As soon as my hand grasped the hand of that government man, I knew that he was not what he claimed.

Just the very sight of this man was like...somebody raking their nails down a blackboard. My first impulse was to knock him on his ass, and then stomp the truth out of him.

But even I know that sometimes you have to mind your tongue and repress certain primitive urges. This man was going to screw up and then I’d nail his sorry ass.

If he cost a member of my team their life, then there would be one less government man.

His name was Baskim. Walter Baskim. His hand was always clammy and after the first couple of times, I refrained from shaking his hand.

“You don’t trust me do you Macalister?”

“If you were a normal joe would you trust anyone from our government?” I asked. “All of this is highly illegal, I was born in the afternoon Baskim but it sure as hell wasn’t this afternoon.”

Baskim shifted his weight nervously. Maybe this was his first assignment, or maybe he didn’t fully agree with what was to happen. For all I know it may have been both.

Then there was his partner.

“The Governor of Texas, himself has asked for us to come here Macalister.”

“Whoop-de-doo. Obviously you’re trying very hard to impress somebody Jennings. I didn’t vote for the son of a bitch, something about him just didn’t set right. In fact nobody, I know voted for him.”

Actually, I nor my friends were very political then. But trust me, it should be the individual, that gets respect. Not the name.

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Governor Clark is highly respected, and those in Washington have never had any reason to question his integrity.”

“They never doubt the integrity of one of their own. An honest politician? Give me a break Jennings...they only exist in fiction.”

I must have got my point across, because both men closed their mouths and that particular part of the conversation was dropped.

“Macalister we’re here to assist you in this matter. But with that little

civil matter over seas, we may be called out of here at any time. I suggest that we come up with a logical solution to resolve this situation.” Jennings replied in a cold tone.

“I agree. The sooner, that we’re rid of you two, the better it’ll be for all of us.”

I didn’t see the smile that crossed Baskim’s lips. Later, I’d be told by one of my people about it. It was half an hour later that the two men left.

“Why do you insist on pushing Macalister?” Baskim asked.

“I have my reasons...those people need to be taken down.”

“That group, the family, or just Macalister?”

Jennings shook his head and muttered hotly. “I’m the senior agent here Baskim. I swear-you ever question me again. I’ll make you disappear,” he snapped his fingers “poof just like magic.”

The young man nodded his head in understanding. He wasn’t the least bit afraid of the older agent. This assignment had a backdoor agenda: he was to rate Jennings’s performance as an agent and his mental stability.

After he made his call to the SAC...agent Jennings, would be taken off this assignment. With any kind of luck he’d be taken out. Jennings had slipped mentally, cracked under the strain. Not many men could handle the assignment of killing.

Baskim was fairly new to the Company.

There were several bastard offspring of that group. While the Company is

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suppose to be prohibited from domestic affairs, there were others that they’d send in. But they were still Brothers of the Company. They’d go by many names over the years.

The American people would be shocked to learn of the things done, supposedly in the name of justice. They’d be appalled to learn what they do to get people to become their agents, the tactics they use to recruit. The bullying tactics, the out and out threat of family members being harmed

At this special point in time, they were called ROGUE GROUP.

They had unlimited power to deal, with certain groups that operated within the United States. They were created in the event that if the American people ever chose to rise up and rebel against the existing government.

They were to wait for that day to come, but in the meantime they’d take out certain little groups that would rise up. They’d send in an agent to assess the situation, then they’d send the order to take out the group.

In later years, the first agent would make the call as to when the group would be taken out. But of course not all groups were a threat.

With the original group there was really no retirement plan. Not in the normal sense of the word. With the knowledge that the agents possessed they’d be too much of a liability. They’d be eliminated.

Many of the unsolved murders if investigated properly could be connected to ROGUE GROUP. When an investigating officer would start to get to close, the evidence would either disappear, or would somehow be considered contaminated.

Anything to protect the secret bastard offspring, created by the government. Scary.

Hence the term SPOOKS.

I had the unnerving feeling that I was being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck was doing a wild dance. I’d learned to pay very close attention to that feeling over the years. I don’t know if I was right in every case...but many times had rang true.

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"He’s good.” the younger agent commented. “He knows that we’re here, he just doesn’t know where.”

“You think he has the gift?” the older agent asked.

“That so-called gift has never been proven to me.”

I turned my head and looked in the direction that I felt the pull. I began to stare at the vehicles and the buildings. Then I caught the quick movement of two men. Two shadowy movements scurrying away.

“Shit! We’ve been made.” the older agent whispered.

“How...how did he do that?” the younger agent asked.

The older agent shook his head and grinned sarcastically, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Asshole.”

Whoever they were, I felt that they didn’t mean me any harm. . . at least not at the moment. I lit up a cigarette and as I blew the smoke the word Spooks popped into my mind.

Now I was really flattered that the US Government, would send Spooks in to check me out. Who would ever have thought, that they’d do something like that? FEDS maybe, but certainly not Spooks. I tried to assure myself

Okay. . . so I’d attracted some real attention.

Now what do I do about it?

I chuckled softly and a young man looked at me surprise in his young eyes. “Sir?”

“Business as usual Jim-Bo.”

“But if they’re who you think they are. . .”

“They know who we are, and they know what we’re doing Jim. If we start slacking off, or if we were to go into hiding, they’ll be forced into rethinking everything they have on us. Then they’ll come after us.

“We keep with our regular SOP, I think we’ll be okay for a while longer. Maybe even long enough, to crush this group of assholes.”

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The boy nodded his head, and rushed over to a group of young men. “Pay up. He ain’t gonna have us back off. I told you so. Oh and Darien, pay up. I was right on our little side bet. He knows that sooner, or later them guys will come to take us out.”

“Shit.” a young man said after he spat a stream of tobacco juice. “Lucky guess.” he said as he gave his friend several bills.

“You’ve got the start of a fan club.” a young woman I knew as Tonya said with a smile. “Did you know that every fifty or so miles, there is another man leading a rebellion? This organization watching us is large Dobs. These groups like ours probably extend way beyond Texas. They want total power and control. If they can’t get it one way they’ll get it another.”

“What exactly is their main objective?” I asked.

“Actually Sir, we know that there are two different groups watching us. Lets call them: Group One and Group Two.”

“Explain.”

“Group One: Is somehow connected with these assholes here in Texas. The other group. Group Two: Is the Good Guys and thing is both groups are with the government. Group two is watching Group One and this other group of assholes, as well as watching us.”

I was impressed, but not surprised at how good the intelligence group of my team was. For a ragtag group of warriors, my team was certainly the best.

“Any suggestions on how we’re to know which group is which?”

“Not at this time.”

This was certainly getting scary. What had we stumbled onto? The two federal agents held little concern to me. I didn’t like them worth a damn, but not many people liked FEDS.

The Term: “Above The Law.” came to mind. But which group was to be considered in that viewpoint? We’d got ourselves involved in a civil uprising, involving our own government and what? Homegrown terrorists? Good Lord. . .

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Two different powers at war with one another. Group Two was clearly the ones that we needed to get word to. They were watching us...Group One were watching us. Both would know our every move?

Intelligence Team was the best. Dobs you’re getting paranoid I cautioned myself. Are you, or are you finally beginning to see what you have refused to see for so long?

I looked over at Tonya and after a moment she averted her eyes.

“Tell me about them Tonya.”

She gave a soft sigh. “For now they’re very impressed with you, not many civilians have that. Group One is known as Rogue Group...not many of them like you. You pose a threat to them, after this is over I’m certain that they’ll be disbanded.”

“What kind of threat?”

“I wish I knew Dobs. Group Two recruited me about six weeks ago. They assured me that no member of our people would be harmed by them. If I hadn’t agreed to join them, there was a possibility that they’d have to acquire the knowledge in a different manner.”

“What other manner?” I asked a very nervous feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.

“They said it would be most unpleasant, something to do with drugs. They had said that they really hoped, that it wouldn’t come to that.”

Drugs? “What have you told them Tonya?”

“Our strengths and those I feel are weak links, our future plans for attacks...Dobs...I never wanted to betray you.”

“How were you contacted?” I asked growing more pissed by the second. My temper was certainly the worse at full boil.

“When I was in town at the newsstand, I saw the man I was tailing go into a door in the alley. No. He didn’t know that I was tailing him. I went to the door and a moment later went inside.”

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“How do you know that it wasn’t a set up?”

“They were too shocked to see me, there were eight of them Dobs. For me to attack would have been stupid. I listened to them, and they listened to me. I felt that they were on the level.”

I took time out to light up another cigarette, “How do you know that they were on the level?” I’d wanted so badly to believe her, I didn’t know what I’d do if it were proven that she was a traitor.

“They gave me information then, and several times since on this group of assholes. Without their help, there were times that I’m certain our people would have been slaughtered.”

My gut instinct then told me that she was on the level. I’d known Tonya since grade school and she was a friend. I knew that if I relieved her of her duties, I’d be putting my team in danger–and if she were a traitor...God how I hated the role of leadership.

Divide and conquer came to mind. No...Tonya was perhaps one of the most

intelligent people, on the team of logistics and intelligence. She’d know if someone was trying to sucker her.

I tried to logically look at the situation: I knew that none of her family could be in a hostage situation. Those that she cared anything about were with us. The others could go to hell as far as she was concerned.

I’d seen her in a few bad situations, and had seen her fight her way out. I smiled as I knew the answer to my own question.

Tonya was a badass, a hellcat and wolverine all rolled into one. She was also a very loyal and good friend, to question her integrity would be like questioning my own.

The Quest

Chapter Three

I knew that Tonya wasn’t anymore a traitor than I was. She’d acted in what she thought to be in the best interest of the team. I’d have done the same thing, and the man I was to appoint as my second would have done it the same way.

“You gonna have me shot at dusk?” Tonya, asked nervously.

“You know better than that,” I said with a shake of my head. “we shoot people at dawn.” I said the last with a grin to reassure her that she was safe.

Her smile spoke volumes.

“Go on about your duties Tonya, and continue to keep me informed.”

She nodded her head and turned to leave, but turned back to face me. “Dobs...thanks for believing me.”

I watched as she turned and ran for the comm center. There was

one last detail, I needed to see to. I saw the man that I was going to appoint as my second walking toward me.

Randy Baker was another member, from the original group that I’d grown up with. He was also the first Black man to join us. Afterward the others joined at an alarming rate.

He’d left Borger, for close to four years before he’d finally come back. He went to work with the rest of us rough necking, and was one of the first to step in, to protect Lady Lane and June.

I’d always felt that it should have been him to lead. He had that special quality that makes a good leader. But, he had said straight out that he’d prefer to

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follow.

“Hey-Randy have I got a deal for you.” I said with a smile.

“I’m not so sure, I like the way you’re smiling Dobs.”

“Ah-Randy my old friend, would I ever do anything sneaky or underhanded? You hurt my feelings when you loose that trusting look.”

“SHIT!” Randy said with a curt shake of his head. “Now I’m really getting fuckin’ scared.”

I fought the overwhelming urge to laugh, “I’ve reached a decision Randy.” I looked at my watch. “In exactly ten minutes from now it’ll be high noon, and at that time I’m going to inform the group to the identity of my second in command...welcome aboard brother.”

Randy jumped a good foot back and yelled like a scalded cat. “No fucking way, are you doing that to me!”

“You’re the best man for the job, and I need you to have my back. Randy. You’re somebody that I’d trust with my life.”

“Shit Dobs...”

I grinned and put out my hand, “As second in command you can also pick our evening meals.”

Randy arched an eyebrow and frowned slightly as he slowly extended his hand, “Tell me why is that to be such a thrill job?” he asked drily.

“We can have soul food every night.” I said with a laugh, as I took off at a dead run with Randy close behind me cussing.

The group shook their heads, at the antics of the two most respected men they’d ever known.

It was to be the weirdest team up in all of history. Randy and I’d gone to school together, we’d chased girls on Main Street, and had even been in our share of street fights. (Always on the same side) But Randy, had changed a bit during the time he was gone. My old friend was now Reverend Randy Baker.

He could and would still fight when pushed. Maybe he was absent the day

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they taught about turning the other cheek, and a number of other classes.

There will be lots of suspicions, and a number of people will be mixing lies with half truths. One was that he’d never been Ordained. But he had been.

He was not one of those loud obnoxious ministers. He’d almost always talk in a soothing tone. But hell-yeah, he’d get on a roll and his voice would rise.

He didn’t wear long robes, nor...had he changed his name to Mohammad LaBamba, or some dumb shit like that. He was a country preacher, that just so happened to be Black.

He was the best friend, any man could hope to have.

This is from a dumb-ass country boy, that felt God would not appreciate the sermons that he’d give. It was a shame that I never at least gave it a try. It would have certainly been different.

Randy had his dark side: He’d get this look in his eyes and that soothing tone would leave. If you were to ever piss him off then all bets were off. He’d just as soon send you to heaven or hell, it all depended on which one was taking assholes that day.

His anger finally died down and he just give me dirty looks. But this didn’t last long either. Our team cheered when I gave the news an hour later than I’d planned.

There was no racial prejudice tolerated within our group. The N word was not to be spoken period. The two men that had spoken it was shown the way out. . .after they had their asses kicked by two very large White country boys.

I’m going to say this: we were a family always watching the other’s back. We’d joke, but a joke is funny when all would laugh.

Like when I wised off about the soul food.

“When those two boys took them rednecks out back, I knew it was all over but the poundin’.” one of the Black men replied. “and they say we’re too emotional. Check out Whitey.”

The room roared with laughter from all.

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It was also very wise to watch what you said to a woman. We didn’t condone nasty comments made to or about women. You may not get kicked out off the team,

but chances were high that you’d get your ass kicked.

Like I said we were a family, and in those days it was wise not to mess with a man’s family.

Honor and family values, were always an issue with us.

“Our man still safe with them people?” Jennings asked.

“Yes. Are you gonna have to be constantly reminded, that this group is not the bad guys.” the woman asked in a firm voice.

“I don’t like my questions being constantly analyzed by you people. FUCK with me, and I’ll make you disappear just like magic.” He said with a snap of his fingers.

“Is that a threat?”

“Move the bitch to the head of the class, she asked the right question.”

“So it was a threat?”

“You keep asking questions like that, and I’ll have you moved to the nearest kitchen. Barefoot and pregnant of course.” he said with a barking laugh.

“Now how would you arrange for me to be pregnant?”

Again he gave the loud laugh, as he grabbed his crotch. “I’ll either get you pregnant, or I’ll fuck you to death.”

Seconds later several armed men rushed into the room with their pistols drawn. “Agent Jennings you’re under arrest.” the woman said in a cold tone.

“None of this will hold up in court and you fucking know it. This was an obvious set-up, and I was only playing along.”

“You know how we work, you’ve already had your trial.” a young agent said as he took a step toward the rogue agent.

“The verdict?”

“You’re one crazy motherfucker, and the sentence is death.”

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The woman shook her head sadly, it was rare for her to have or show any emotions when an agent went bad. But in this case it was close to impossible not to. Agent Jennings had worked with her father, and had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Not to say that her father was a screw-up. Things have a nasty way of sometimes quite suddenly turning to shit, and when it did instead of leaving her father to whatever fate, Jennings, had personally gone in and got her father out.

It had been Jennings that had uncovered, who it was that had compromised her father’s missions... “Shit.” she softly grimaced. The whole thing was a set-up. He was the rogue from day one. How many good agents have died because of him...or how many other bad agents died because they crossed him? How many were sacrificed all in the name of their cause.

Who can she trust? Why should she trust anybody?

DTA.

Her mother had told her long ago, that if life ever felt too shitty who she should get in touch with. That they were both men to ride the river with. But just how in the hell, was she suppose to do that?

She’d been raised in England, and had never been told anything about her mother’s people. Her uncle was just that occasional voice on the phone. He’d gone to England, long about the time that her mother did.

Then came the day of that phone call. A man’s voice had said that her father had been killed in an accident. That his body was shipped to America. Which she found odd, since he was in Ireland when he was killed. Why wasn’t he just sent home?

Her mother in a moment of weakness, and too much brandy told her the deep dark secret. Both her father and uncle, were agents with the Company. There was no accident. He was executed. Her father was listed as a DOD. Dead on Demand.

That they had to examine his remains, just to ensure that it was indeed him that they had killed.

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Then there were the hushed whispers.

Things that was forbidden to be spoken whenever she was near.

She knew that one branch of her family was suppose to be derived from royalty. That somewhere, was a castle complete with servants, and more money than the United States could ever see in twenty years.

The Clary family was never spoken of, and then the few times that a representative from the family, would come by she was sent to her room. She did hide one time and learned that there was trouble brewing. It seemed that Sir Robert had gone to America, on some fool notion to search for his bride.

A woman not of noble blood was to become part of the family. Why did they come to tell her mother of this. Why should her mother even care?

The woman was from Texas...he’d found her.

A Texas woman was to marry into the Clary family. Sir Robert had even brought

her brother to England, to attend school. Was that a coincidence?

She’d heard the softly muttered family name, just before she was caught and then escorted to her room by a staff member. The family name that he was to marry into was. . . MacMasters...McAllen. . .MaCullen...Macalister!

“This is weird, has to be coincidence, I’m remembering wrong, I have to be.”

“Sorry to disappoint you Agent Larris.” the large man replied . “This man’s sister is married to your cousin. We hoped that you’d not make the connection.”

“What kinship is he to me?”

“No legal blood kinship whatsoever.”

Cindy Larris slowly shook her head, “I’m not that close to my cousin. Yeah...we saw each other as we were growing up, but we never really clicked. I never could get use to, that many people kissing my ass.”

The senior agent smiled sadly. He was not to tell Larris the complete truth. It would be a violation. If he did he’d probably find himself to be beheaded.

“What are you not telling me, or should I even bother to ask?”

“You know the drill agent Larris some things can never be told.”

Agent Larris slowly nodded her head, knowing that to ask further questions would be useless. The senior agent, was good at playing the CYA game.

“What do I do now?”

“Business as usual Cindy.” the agent replied using her first name. “Just stay focused and just remember that while this group may appear to be clean...if they were to ever cross the line, you’re either to bring them in, or take them down.”

“I will Dan. Nobody has to remind me of the oath I took.”

The SAC nodded his head, their job was certainly a shitty one.

The Quest

Chapter Four

Sir Robert sat alone in his private study sipping a brandy. Sara Ann had gone shopping for some special reason. The staff was very tight lipped when it came to his wife. They were very loyal to him, but it was different when it came to Sara.

She’d go into the kitchen and help cook and clean, she’d even found out the birth date of Cook, and had thrown her a surprise birthday party. She’d said that the woman reminded her of her grandmother. Lady Lane.

She was always saying please and thank you to the staff. Not to say that he didn’t respect the staff. It was just that she was the first regular type person to do such things. The others had became bitches overnight. Thank God, his Sara wasn’t like that. He had aunts and cousins that he avoided like the plague, they had so quickly forgotten where they’d come from, and had change so quickly.

Joe Macalister was just like his sister, never forgetting where he came from. When he wasn’t studying, he was working his butt off. This was not a requirement, he did it out of a sense of honor.

Joe had known of a certain section of land that needed clearing. He picked up an axe and set about clearing the land. He’d work until his hands bled, but he never once complained. The young man enjoyed hard work and was always on his own personal quest to belong in in an honorable way.

Yes. He’d married the perfect girl there was, her family were very honorable people. They were very true blue to what was right and of course they just so

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happen to be very country, and hillbilly type folks. That was his edge in this. Those before him had all found, and married the girls with the attitude that, they were more than deserving of the gift. That it was somehow their destiny to marry royalty.

He had no grand illusions, he was who he was only because of his birthright. He’d not sweated or worked for what was theirs, and he was the only family member that felt this way.

In his opinion certain other male members of the family should belong to the Asshole’s Club. A club where each member must be voted in, a club where they’re judged by the thickness of their wallets, and of course the shit in their hearts.

Their women should have the England Bitch Contest. He shook his head. “It’d never work, the call would be too close...they’re all first rate bitches.”

The older man smiled as he walked away from his son’s study. He knew his son’s thoughts as well as he knew his own. The boy had grown into a very fine man. They both hated snobs and refused to have anything to do with such people.

While other men of importance talked of their sons wanting to be powerful and men of great influence, Sir Robert always spoke of treating people with respect and as equals.

The older man sighed as he picked up the tray, and went about his duties. Yes. Sir Robert was his son, his son in heart mind, and by blood.

Lady Grace had come to him and had told him of the problem. They needed an heir, but that was impossible, since her husband was impotent. Dead-meat as she put it. He was perfect. The right height, coloring, and eye color.

He had his doubts as to the credibility of the story. He suspected that it was because, Sir Lyle was cruel to her in the bedroom. He’d hear her crying late at night and once he had consoled her.

She’d never told him what happened, and he could never really ask. He saw the bruises on her, and had wanted so badly to take a pound or so of flesh from the bastard. He restrained himself with great effort.

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Sir Lyle had gone on one of his usual business trips if it had not been improper to do so, he’d have told him to fall in a privy pit. Again it took great effort to control his feelings.

Lady Grace came to him that night, and the next two nights. If any of the staff knew...it had never been mentioned. Nine months later she gave birth to Robert.

Close to the end of her pregnancy, Sir Lyle for whatever his reason started to put a beating to Lady Grace. It just wasn’t meant to happen.

Within a few short minutes he had the royal crap stomped out of him by his own personal servant. “Touch her again Sir, and I shall be forced to exterminate your sorry ass.”

Sir Lyle from that point on became the perfect husband. Never raising a hand to Lady Grace again, and certainly never to young Robert. From that point on he spoke very respectful to all the staff. Especially, to the servant that had stomped his ass so easily.

The boy always looked to him whenever he had a problem. It was as though he somehow knew that his father, was not what he pretended to be.

It had been him that the boy came to, when he’d wanted to learn to fight.

He’d been filled with PRIDE, when he learned that the boy had fought three boys who had insulted him. No father, could or should, ask for any more from a son. Love, honor and the deepest respect.

He gasped as he felt a sharp twinge in his chest.

Sir Robert just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was quite a gift that he had. If someone that he had a connection with was hurt or was in some kind of trouble, he always seemed to know.

He’d never felt a connection with Lyle. He supposed that he did love him in a way. But not the way that he loved Jeremiah. The man was more like a father to him, than Sir Lyle had ever been.

He’d taken note of the fact, that his father would always step very lightly

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around Jeremiah. He actually called him Sir, and would say thank you.

It was his father that had set up those tasks for him to do. It was so very

odd. His father was a skinny beady eyed man with a nose like a rat. His features were like his mother’s, but he had a build and coloring like...Jeremiah.

There was but one task left to him. He was to find the family’s darkest secret. The one secret that would forever haunt the Clary family.

Someone you care about is in trouble, get off your ass and do something, the voice in his mind commanded. He stood up quickly and rushed from the room.

He saw that Sara Ann had returned, and gave a smile of relief at the woman as she was sewing on some garment. He quickly went to check on his mother. He found her sitting in the guestroom reading a book. “Anything wrong dear?” she asked.

“I don’t know, I just have one of those feelings again.”

Lady Grace quickly stood up, and rushed to joined her son, she knew that his feelings were real. Her husband always scoffed, “When I was being mugged why didn’t the boy know it?”

Simple: he doesn’t care about you. There’s not a connection with you and Robert. “Perhaps he felt it but thought that you could handle it. You know how boys are with their fathers.”

“Yeah-right! We both know the real reason...”

Both parents had stopped the conversation when the young boy walked into the room. Young Robert got a book from the shelf and left the room. God, how he hated it when they fought.

“He got a goddamn western to read. What’s so wrong with the works of Shakespeare? Next thing you know, he’ll be fist-fighting and drinking beer.” she quickly shook away the old memories.

Sir Robert and his mother rushed from room to room, and finally found Jeremiah on the floor. Robert gave a cry of protest as he rushed to the man’s side. “No, goddamnit no! Come on Jerry, open your eyes!” Robert shouted as his eyes filled with tears.

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The old man slowly opened his eyes, and smiled at the young man. “I guess I’m getting too old...for this work. I guess it’s time for me to...”

“You’re not going anywhere but to the hospital, then back here where I can take care of you.” Sir Robert said as his eyes filled with more tears. “Somebody call for help now! Now Goddamnit!”

His mother quickly crossed herself, as her own tears came.

The older man smiled, and nodded his head. “You’re a good man Robert. Any man should be proud to call you his son...”

The light in the man’s eyes was not as bright, as Robert thought it should be. But the look in the old man’s eyes was not lost on Robert. PRIDE.

“Where the hell is the help!” he shouted angrily as he looked up anxiously to see if anybody was coming to help.

His mother’s soft sobbing reached his ears, as he realized that his oldest friend was gone. He checked and rechecked hoping that there was some signs of life. None. He slowly threw his head back, and cried out in uncontrollable anguish.

Sara Ann rushed to her husband’s side, and watched as he removed his coat and covered the man’s face. She slowly stepped to one side as her husband turned, and glared into the face of his father.

“Son I’m truly sorry...” his father replied trying to hide his true feelings.

“Shut The Fuck Up!” Robert shouted, as he closed his hands into large tight fists. “I’m sick of hearing your voice. Always so condescending.” If only he’d followed his heart then...

“Robert you can either respect me, or you can fear me.”

“I don’t fear toads. You can either get out of my way, or you can go through the last seconds, of your wretched life wishing to Christ you fucking had.”

The smaller man quickly stepped aside, and watched as the larger man left the room. The medical technician team quickly entered the castle and followed the young maid to the room where Jeremiah lay.

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Robert knew that his life was about to change drastically. He just didn’t care about the money or his title, nor, had he ever really cared about such

things.

His father was probably already on the damn phone, calling the families lawyers to have him removed. To have him stripped of his title.

He walked into his bedroom and walked over to look out the large window. In his mind’s eye, he saw the grounds change and he saw a younger Jeremiah playing with the boy. The boy he used to be. His father was either in his study, or in some other room screwing his favorite maid.

He could hear the boy’s laughter, and the deeper laugh of the man. The boy looked up at him, and he could see that the boy had a black eye. “Jeremiah. I wish you were my dad. You listen to me, I mean really listen. You’re never too busy for me. I love you.”

“I love you too son...but your father does have some good qualities too.” the older man said gently.

“Yeah, he goes away, maybe someday, he’ll wise up and just stay gone.” the younger Robert said bitterly.

“Jerry. You never said anything bad against Lyle. You even tried to defend him in your own way, even when he was at his worst. I saw how you’d watch over me and my mother...” Robert gave a sly smile. “I know the family secret now Father...or do I just know part of it?”

“I just got off the phone from the hospital...a Jerry Carter, has had a massive heart-attack.”

“Been expecting that for some time. Ole Jerry. He was one of the best agents we ever had. They say he went sour, but only me and a few others knew the truth. He stayed on to watch over the woman and her son.”

“He was dirty and he left the agency to become a butler for some rich asshole.” the young agent replied arrogantly.

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“How old are you son?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Only after you’ve grown up, will you have enough experience to ever sit in any judgment. You’ll not speak of my friend in such a manner. To ever do so again is a sure fire way of getting your ass kicked.”

“But, I’ve read the file on this agent, all the information states that he was dirty.”

“Yes. It does, and that’s how he’ll be remembered, but he was the cleanest agent I’ve ever met. But he was also very human, he was getting close to the truth on Clary’s partners. But-he fell in love with Clary’s wife.”

“He...he forgot his objective then?” the young agent replied changing his thoughts in midstream.

“The woman was and is still very attractive. Clary was an abusive man, and he’d beaten the woman on several occasions. She turned to Jerry, in a moment of despair, and they fell in love. Sir Robert is Jerry’s son.”

The young agent, stared at the SAC for a full minute before speaking. “He stayed to protect the woman and His Son.”

“Yes. He could not and would not leave the boy, he continued on feeding us information, but at the same time protecting the child. We got several of Clary’s partners, but somebody was really watching over Lyle. The case was unofficially closed.”

“I’m just asking a question, so don’t go psycho on me. Is it possible that Jerry could have been the one?”

“Oh-it’s possible, it’s very possible, but we knew who the traitor was and took care of that person. Jerry retired. Sort of.”

“So, your friend is branded dirty, and you do nothing to correct it.” the young agent snapped back. “You jump down my throat about me dishonoring your friend, but you refuse to clear his name! Talk about a fucking hypocrite!”

The older agent smiled.

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“I blew it, didn’t I?” the young agent replied with a smile.

“We already knew son, you just more or less confirmed it.”

“I was told so many stories. Now, I know the truth and I can’t do a goddamn thing about it.”

“You have to believe me when I say, he didn’t know about you.” The SAC said with a slight shake of his head.

“I know, my mother had told me that much. The big question is this, what are you going to do, now that you know who I am?”

“You’ve played it straight and clean, and you’re a good agent, without any reprimands...” the SAC smiled at the son of his friend. “Let’s just say that this conversation never took place.”

“What about my brother?”

“That’s your call. Hey, as long as you don’t step too far over the line, we’ll all be safe. But remember this Frank, this isn’t the boy scouts, but neither are we killers for hire. Officially, we don’t even exist. You can’t draw any attention to us. We can only cover the tracks of an agent, just so far.”

“I have no plans to go on some killing spree, but there’s much more to all this...I can just fucking feel it.” the young agent said as he stood up, and walked to the door. “this with Macalister is just the tip of the iceberg.”

The SAC smiled as the young man left, “You’ve got your father’s instincts. Now, let’s see if you’ve got his heart.”

The SAC silently thought of the agents in England, those that were posing as servants in the Clary castle. Those that had sworn an oath to Protect and Serve their country. The team of Group Two.

The Quest

Chapter Five

I remember I used to argue with my mother about optimism and pessimism. I’d tell her that sometimes, you just have to have faith. Faith in your own abilities. Just like the old cliche, a single snowflake is very fragile, but look what they can do when hundreds work together.

My point being separate you may fail, but as a team your deeds may be endless. I’d never tackle a group like this on my own, this isn’t like when I went after them trespassers.

Dad talked of that one until his dying day.

Four to one, and I came out on top. They had their rifles and all I had was my grandfather’s pistol. They tried their luck, thinking that a boy would be too scared to shoot.

They just weren’t up to what they had to face.

They turned slightly and their rifles were almost pointing directly at me. I told them again that they were trespassing, and requested for them to leave.

They laughed at the lone boy standing his ground.

The next thing I knew one had his rifle aimed directly at my chest. “Drop your gun boy, or I’ll plant you where you fall.”

That my friends was the wrongest thing to ever say to a Macalister.

It was never clear if the man would have shot me or not. The survivors were just too shaken up to speak coherently.

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My pistol left it’s holster and I continued to fire until it hit a dead chamber. Three men were down two seriously. The one man that had not been hit fell to his knees blubbering. I walked forward and kicked their rifles out of reach.

I could hear the approaching men, and I quickly reloaded.

It was the sheriff, and a few of his deputies.

“You okay Dobs?”

“Yeah, but they ain’t.”

Sheriff Andrews looked at the scene, and shook his head. “Four men Dobs? You faced four men, and came out on top?”

The stench of relaxed bowels assaulted our noses.

“You killed them for trespassing?”

“No-sir. They were gonna shoot me, and I stopped em.”

“I ain’t ever seen anything so fast.” the blubbering man said, as a deputy quickly left to go call for help, I could hear him muttering as he left. Something about balls and brains. Go figure.

“Why did you and your friends threaten the kid?” Sheriff Andrews asked.

“Had no right...was just having a little fun.”

They’d got pretty much the same story from the other survivor. Sheriff Andrews was able to piece enough of the story together to get me off the hook.

Mom had been so worried that they were gonna hang me. I had to assure her that just wasn’t gonna happen. “Mom they don’t hang folks anymore, they’ll just send me to prison.”

I even breathed easier when we got the visit from Andrews. “You a free man Dobs. Judge Roy Allen declared it half hour ago.”

I breathed a hell of a lot easier.

Like I said, this just is not the same as that. They kinda frown on folks taking the law into their own hands nowadays. It just wasn’t the same as it used to be. They don’t seem to want any man to make a difference anymore.

A man could commit a crime, and sometimes walk free.

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But some asshole enters your home, in the dead of night all bets were off. How could any of us know that shit would one day change.

My ordeal back then began the change in the law, Judge Allen was a backwoods law and order type. He came from someplace in Tennessee down to Texas. At first his views were detested and it took three tries before he was finally elected. Then they just flat refused to let him retire.

Looking back he kinda reminded me a lot of James Stewart in that movie “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.” he was very tough-minded but also very fair. He’d used my ordeal many times to make a point. ”Never take odds at face value.” then he’d tell the story of me and the shootout.

That didn’t help my reputation much at all.

Andrews and Allen were both long gone, and all I had was a group of men and women that thought as I did. We wanted an end to the crime in our town. We wanted our women to be able to walk, the streets in some degree of safety.

Times were changing and there were many people that just flat refused to accept that change. Justifiably so. Crime rate was high, and the law just seemed to be sitting on their hands.

I did feel like Stewart’s character: I was a leader for the simple fact that I killed two men all those years ago. I don’t know what would have happened, had I not done what I felt forced to do. Maybe nothing. But just maybe, Rob would be the one telling this story rather than me.

Them FEDS just kept popping into my head, some had come down after the shooting. One had said that he’d have to take my gun, and I told him straight out: “Go To Hell.”

He then told me that we could do this easy or hard. After a few very tense minutes, he left and he left without my gun. Somehow I felt that these boys weren’t like them boys back then were. You can tell by the eyes. The others didn’t have that hungry look, this group...this group worried me. I’m not saying that they were dirty. But I do believe that they had very little regard for the rights of honest

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people. That they’d do, whatever they felt just to meet their objective.

Including killing women and children.

We’d taken control of a little community west of Borger, just a few miles

from the old drive in. It was surrounded by a six foot high stucco wall, we felt that should we ever have to defend our homes it would give us at least a chance.

What was so odd, was that the creeps had began to slack off. I got to where I could spot a fed a block away, and those people seemed to be everywhere.

Downtown Borger, looked like a damn Spook convention. The donut shop was closed down and the building was taken over by the FEDS. They had tried to strong-arm, “Old Lenny Schwartz” into closing his gun store.

That was when I developed a lot more respect for the Jewish people. Ole Lenny was seventy at the time and was a small frail looking man. He always wore baggy pants and suspenders and a white shirt. He told them very bluntly to go to hell.

Personally, I think it was that scatter-gun in his hands that convinced them. It sure would’ve convinced me. Lenny was ornery and as dangerous as a striking cobra. I really like that old man.

I told my people, to keep a very careful watch on Lenny.

I have no idea who actually brought him into our group, I just know that one day I looked across the compound and there he was. A week later, I saw him without his shirt and I saw the tattoo on his forearm. Them goddamn numbers.

I know that I had nothing to do with that horror, but I felt sick and guilty for what had happened to him. He quickly put his shirt on and asked me what he could do to help.

“Are you adjusting okay, Mister Schwartz?” I asked.

“Call me Lenny. I remember you. You used to come into my store and look around then you get all excited, and run home and get your papa.”

“Yes sir. I liked guns even back then.”

“You need guns for some of your people...if you send some of your toughest guys to my store, my helper will give them what they need.”

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I smiled and nodded. “How did you know?”

“I look around Dobs and I see. I also see that your people care for all people that just want to be free. Did you know that I once shot a robber?”

“No sir.”

“He come into my store, and wanted money and guns, I was sitting on my stool, and as I stood up I picked up my gun. Shoot him dead.”

That was one story that, I most certainly hadn’t heard about. “What happened? The cops and all.”

The old man smiled. “They didn’t want no part of me. They knew the man was bad said so as he was carried out feet first. They tole me not to worry.”

I motioned for a young man, and he rushed over to me very quickly. “Johnny get a couple of boys and go to Lenny’s store... Lenny how will your man know it’s okay?”

“I’ll send a note with you people.”

“Lenny has offered to supply our people.”

The young man grinned excitedly, “No Shit! Thank you, Mister Schwartz.” Johnny said as he rushed off to get the help he’d need.

“He’s a good boy.” Lenny said softly. “He will learn though, first time he has to kill, the first time a buddy dies.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say. I’d killed before and I remember how I changed after that. So many people began to look at me differently, and many others avoided me. I was still a kid back then, and grown men were calling me sir.

“You know I speak the truth.” it wasn’t a question. “I remember when you were forced into that...problem. They gave you no choice.”

“I may have lied, maybe I just wanted to see, to see what it felt like to kill someone.”

Lenny shook his head firmly. “No. You not like that Dobs. You always a good kid, and you grow to be a good man. The eyes are the mirror to a soul. Your soul is

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an old one. You always fight, I see no evil in you.”

Johnny came running back up to us, and Lenny pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Give this to my help, they will see to your needs.”

After Johnny had left, I lit up a cigarette. “You already had that written. I didn’t even know for certain, that I was going to ask you for help.”

“I already decided to offer help, you and your people helped a tired old man. Food and a good place to sleep, they came in and didn’t like seeing me pushed

around. Brought me here...nobody did that for my papa. I see him beat to death. He spit at tank, and soldiers beat him.”

I tried to swallow but the lump just wouldn’t stay down.

“I run as fast as I could but they caught me. They talk of doing very bad and evil things to me. I don’t cry, I spit at them. That night a young soldier come and get me, he give me a gun and tells me to go. He says he cannot allow harm to come to any child.”

I felt the tears as they began to roll down my cheek. I’d heard some of the horror stories in school. But they never affected me the way it did when, Lenny told the story. First hand I guess.

“They catch me again, this time they brand me like a calf. That same young soldier save me again, but this time he goes with me. He has other children hidden, he pay money to men and we all come to America.”

I didn’t know what was wrong with me, here I was the leader of one of the most powerful forces in Texas, and I was moved to tears by the story from an old man.

“You see Dobs you are good man, only good men, will cry for deeds done long ago. You cry for a boy that is now an old man, an old man that talk too much. Any man can kill, but how many men can cry?”

When I was a little boy I was told the story of real survival. My great aunt had told me of her voyage on Titanic. The rich had thought that they had more of a right to survive than children. She never spoke the name of the rich man, but to

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this day I still think it was John Aster. She spoke of a man making certain that she and her sister, along with other children were safely in a raft.

She’d sometimes loose her temper when she dealt with those holier than thou types. She’d ask, “You think you’re better than Aster.” then leave the room.

The soldier that Lenny had spoke of, and the man that my aunt spoke of knew what was at stake. They could have saved their own asses, and then just gone on with life. But they’d chosen to do what was just and right in their hearts.

I wondered if some person in the future, will view us in the same light as I was these two men. It still goes back to what Sir Robert had tried to teach

me: Mine honor is my life; Both grow as one; Take honor from me and my life is done.

“What were you thinking just then?” Lenny asked.

I told him.

He smiled.

Cindy Larris just could not believe the order that had been sent to her. Her first thought was that she’d deciphered the message wrong.

She rechecked her work and it read the same.

All part of the job she reasoned. Sometimes you may be told to do something very distasteful, something that goes against every moral thought in your being.

Then other times...you may have to remind yourself not to enjoy your work too much. This was not to be.

She was ordered by whatever means necessary, to infiltrate the rebel group and then take out Dobs Macalister.

It was a presidential order.

“This is wrong,” she muttered. “Somebody is giving orders, and signing the president’s name to them.”

Dan Parker chose that time to walk into the hotel room, that they were using as their CP. “Dan we have a problem.” the agent replied and handed him the orders.

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Dan calmly shook his head. “Let’s run this backwards, it would be close to impossible for us to infiltrate that group. They’re entirely too paranoid...too cautious is a better phrase. To kill or even attempt to kill Macalister, would bring about a full scale war. His people would declare war on the Organization and on us.

“This is not an order from the President agent Larris. The President has no knowledge of our existence, we’re the safety net, so to speak. In other words when or if all else fails.”

“Then who did send this?”

“Somebody that wants us to screw up, and set in motion a full scale civil war. The American public is very disgruntled with the current form of government.

Macalister’s group is doing what others only talk about doing.”

“Actions being right or wrong, do they really have the right to do what they’re doing?”

The senior agent smiled, “Having doubts Cindy?”

“No...no I’m not having doubts, I’m trying to look at it from the point of view of the jury. These people have violated the rights...the constitutional rights of people.”

“What about the rights of the average honest joe, that have been violated by the Organization? I have a theory on what is going on, and as soon as I get a few more facts clear, I’ll let you know. Oh-and by the way: There won’t be any day in court for this group.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It’s part of the theory, but by the time it’s all over the rebs will be above the law. Totally untouchable by anyone.”

They knew that for however long or short a time this is to last there will be those that remember that the people don't have to live in fear of the criminals. That they can fight back and that the bad guys don't have to win.

Ever!

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* * *

“I think it’s time to get the women out of harms way.” I told my group. “Maybe even send them out of the state.”

“You know your wife is going to buck those orders.” Randy told me in a serious tone.

“Yeah, I know, but it was agreed by all, that if I ever felt that it was getting too dangerous, I’d be the one making the call if or when the women would be sent someplace safe.”

“You’re making that call now?” a young man asked.

I thought for a moment and then sighed. “Yeah, I’m making the call.”

“I’m going to surprise you Dobs, by not arguing.” June said with a smile. “You and I haven’t had too much of a chance to talk for the past few days. I’m pregnant.”

I looked at June and I could feel the excitement growing inside me. “Then it’s firm. You pick a destination, and tell only Randy. He’ll see to it that you get there.”

“You don’t want to know?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to know baby, but to protect you and our child, I don’t want any knowledge that can be tortured out of me.”

“It’s getting that bad then.” it was not a question.

“Yes baby, it’s getting that bad.”

June came to me and we embraced for a long moment. I picked her up into my arms and took her to our bedroom. I had no ideas, or suspicions of what was to happen. Fate had just came aboard.

The Quest

Chapter Six

Amarillo Texas

The young detective stared at the man, seated at the table eating something that looked like it had already been chewed. There was something about this new group of people that had come to his town.

They were just entirely too smooth for his tastes. He and a few of the other officers had began a loose surveillance on the people. He reviewed what he knew about them. They were German, and each man and woman had diplomatic immunity.

There were FEDS all over the place. If these people were suppose to be untouchable, why were the FEDS here? Very curious.

The waiter nervously walked over to the large man. “Officer Stokes, Mr. Borga, sends this wine with his compliments.”

Boris Stokes was a very large man with great strength, just the look from his deep brown eyes, could scare the shit out of some perp. “Take that shit back, and tell Borga to kiss my ass.”

The waiter was clearly frightened and could only stand there looking foolish.

Boris promptly stood up, and took the bottle of wine, to the German’s table.“Neville I know you’re not in my town, just to drink shitty wine. Whatever, it is...I’m going to find out, then I’m going to make your life a living hell.”

One of life's little pleasures as a cop was that you could take certain liberties and tap dance around certain things.

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“Boris may I call you Boris? Good. I guess you’ve forgotten the little meeting with your DA. You cannot arrest me, detain me, or even question me.” Borga replied with a smug smile.

Boris smiled. “You may refer to me only as Officer Stokes. I never said I was going to arrest you, detain, or question you. I said I was going to make your life a living hell.”

Borga was clearly shook, but quickly regained his composure. “I’m sure there are laws against harassment Stokes.” he replied as he picked up his glass of wine, and brought it to his lips.

Boris shook his head as he turned to walk away. “Enjoy the wine shithead.”

Borga went into a wild coughing spree, as those at the table began to talk rapidly in German. One young man seated at the table glared in the direction in which Boris had left. All it would take was for one cop to throw a monkey-wrench into the works, then they’d really be screwed.

The technology that they’d brought was worth millions. If this officer Boris Stokes were to ever find out what was being planned...

Their immunity only protected them from arrest, and detainment. A cop like Stokes wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought. “Goddamn psycho.”

Rob Macalister watched as the men brazenly walked across his posted property. It really was the principal behind it all. The land was posted, and they had more than likely cut the fence.

It never failed: For some reason the shitheads, would always cut the fence rather than climb over. Then he’d have to go hunting his milk cows.

He picked up his rifle and went to his saddled horse. He swung up into the saddle and turned the horse in the direction of the men. Another thing that never failed was, the assholes would want to argue. He’d grown very weary of having to explain the law to a group of simpletons.

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A man shouldn’t have to explain the why of it. Posted Means: Stay The Fuck Out!

A friend of his was told by a judge, that he’d have to put his hybrid down. Some fool had ignored a No Trespassing sign. along with his Beware of Dog sign.

The fool broke into his house, and found a sick woman. Being the type of man he was, he proceeded to do the unspeakable. He was stopped by the family pet. A very large half wolf and half collie.

The pet tore very large chunks of flesh from the man, before the woman called him off.

She called the sheriff and held a gun on the man until help arrived. When asked why she hadn’t called for an ambulance, she replied. “After he raped me, do you think he would have called one for me? I ain’t Sister Nancy. He was very damn lucky that I even called Max off, before calling you.”

The fool of a judge ruled that what the woman did was cruel and inhuman, and that the dog known as Max was to be destroyed.

The woman and her husband muttered in unison “Kiss my ass.” as they left the courtroom.

It wasn’t the fault of the owner, if some lowlife got bit by the family pet, or shot by the owner after breaking into a house.

Six months later after a full recovery, the lowlife broke into another home and was shot dead by a twelve year old girl.

No-charges were filed. New judge of course the other judge was debenched.

The Sheriff had gone out to the couple’s home to carry out the order. (Not that it was ordered for him to do so) He took two deputies as witnesses and took the dog over the hill. One shot was fired. Two days later the Sheriff brought, a dog to the couple. A dog that bore a remarkable resemblance to Ole Max.

Rob rode up to the men his eyes continually searching for any stragglers. “You boys ignored the posted sign, now I’m certain that you won’t ignore this rifle. You hit the river bed, and don’t come back onto my place.”

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“We have diplomatic immunity against your laws.” one man replied smugly.

Too smugly, for Rob to ignore.

Rob knew who the men were. He’d heard the other officers talking of a group of men and women with immunity from the law. No traffic ticket no detainment.

Plain Nada. That wouldn’t go for very long with the APD.

“I really don’t give a fuck about your immunity, your country, or any rights that you feel you have. On this land I’m God, as well as the law, and your bullshit immunity is not recognized here.”

The men were clearly shaken and there was something about this man that sent a clear warning: Fuck with him and you’ll die. “Sir as soon as we hit the river bed, you’ll not see or hear from us again. We tried our luck and you caught us.”

Rob nodded his response.

As the men walked away, one man whispered angrily. “Why did you allow that piece of shit to run us off?”

“Because if we’d tried to take him, he’d have killed us all to the very last man.”

“Then his own law would have dealt with him.”

“A lot of good that would have done us you moron.”

The man fell silent.

Bill Wilson smiled as he watched his wife cook supper. Though she was eight months pregnant, she still insisted on cooking and cleaning.

Bill had once suggested that he could get somebody to come in and help her. That she had no business working so hard.

Wrong move.

“Oh-you’d like that!” she snapped. “Get some sweet young thing to come bouncing around here. You can just fucking forget that one Mister Big Shot Detective.”

“Honey, the person can also be a sweet elderly lady, that needs help because

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of a fixed income.”

“I never knew you to like em old. . .Bill. Tell me the truth, are those wrinkles a road map to the hotspot?”

Bill shook his head in wild amazement. His father-in-law was right: Carol had become her mother. He’d told Bill the horror stories of how her mother was during her pregnancies. Each more horrifying than the first.

“Well then why don’t I help you with all this. I know you don’t like men in your kitchen but...”

“You’ll screw up my whole system.” Carol replied sharply cutting him off.

“No. I won’t I’ll just stand there and watch I promise.”

“Then what good will you be? Typical man, so goddamn useless, you stick to law enforcement and I’ll handle the complicated parts of life.”

“Anything you say dear.” Bill replied as he picked up the paper. He never said the right thing, if he said, “I love You.” She’d lay into him accusing him of screwing his partner. Yeah right, he liked Fred, but not that much.

If he tried to tell her about his day, (Something she’d always felt deprived of) he was suppose to ask for the tenth time since coming home, “How’s the kid?”

That scenario could also go the other way.

Carol smiled as she stepped into the living-room. Bill was such a good husband and provider. She walked over and pushed the paper aside, and sat in his lap. “I’m sorry, that I’ve been such a bitch. It’s these damn hormones.”

Bill smiled as he put his arms around his wife. “Honey?”

“Yes.”

“On our next kid, we’re going to adopt.”

The baby chose that time to kick.

That got the couple to laughing.

The one thing that Carol had agreed to was to keep supper simple. She made a quick salad, and baked some potatoes and threw a couple of steaks in her grandmother’s old cast iron skillet.

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Bill was surprised, when she asked if he’d mind clearing the table. She had the makings of one of her bad headaches. He smiled gently and filled her pitcher of water from the fridge and got her settled into their bed.

“Just clear the table, and rise the dishes off. I’ll wash them tomorrow.”

“Okay baby.”

Bill stood and watched over her until she fell asleep. She was truly the best thing to ever come into his life. When she wasn’t pregnant, she was the sweetest lady on earth.

He went into the kitchen and got himself a beer, and took a long drink. He sat the can down and cleared the table, and drew some dish water. He washed the dishes and put them in the rinse water.

He started to put them in the drainer, but stopped himself. Why risk world war three? He pulled the plug and wiped the counters down and picked up his beer.

Still cold, he thought with a smile.

The phone rang and he quickly silenced it.

“Detective Wilson?” the heavy German accent asked.

“Yeah, who the hell is this?”

“Tell your boys to back off my people.”

Bill felt his blood pressure begin to rise. How the hell did this asshole get his number? “Call the station, to enter your complaint shithead.”

“You should never curse the man that holds your wife’s life in his hands.”

Bill dropped the phone and rushed down the hall, pausing at the hall closet to get his pistol. He cautiously entered the bedroom. He’d always preferred the direct approach, he flipped on the light.

The bed was empty.

His heart became alive with panic. “Carol! God, Please-No!”

He heard the sound of gasping from down the hall, and rushed to the bathroom. Carol, was hunkered over the toilet upchucking.

“My curse for being such a bitch earlier.” she said with a faint smile.

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“Oh baby, you scared the shit out of me.” Bill, replied as he pulled a washcloth from the cabinet. He wet it with cool water and handed it to his wife.

“Who was on the phone?” she asked weakly.

“Stay in here, until I get back.”

He walked over and picked up the phone and listened. The bastard was still on the line, or...the connection hadn’t been broken. “You stay the fuck away from us.”

“I do hope that her being sick, isn’t anything too serious. Maybe it’s the water.” a very cold laugh followed.

“You Goddamn Sick Fucking Bastard!” Bill shouted just before breaking the

connection. His hands shook slightly as he dialed his in-law’s number. He had to get Carol to safety, and that was the best place he knew.

“Dad. I need for Carol to come there for a while. You know the rules, no I can’t just yet.” He looked at his watch. “I’m going to take her to the hospital then straight there. Just a check up. Dad, don’t let her or mom, out of your sight for even a minute.”

He broke the connection, Carol would be covered as soon as he got her to her parent’s place. That place was a fucking fort, and her father’s people were all ex-military.

He was covered. The one thing that was dead certain as well as consistent was The Brotherhood.

He went to the bedroom and picked up the water pitcher. It was an off color, not enough to be real noticeable at a first glance.

“Motherfuckers!” he muttered as he rushed back to Carol. She was on the floor unconscious.

He checked her pulse and breathing everything appeared to be normal. He went and got her special bag for the hospital and carried Carol, and the bag out to the car.

Stay professional, don’t think, don’t feel.

“Bullshit!” he said in a loud voice. “Borga! I’m gonna fucking kill you, and

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I’m going to enjoy every fucking minute of it.”

Bill carried Carol into the hospital and shouted for help.

In an instant he was surrounded by doctors and nurses. He was forced to stand and watch helplessly as Carol was placed on a gurney. “I’m gonna fucking kill you Borga. Best count on it.”

The Quest

Chapter Seven

“I don’t know what she took it was mixed in with her water.” Bill said in a calm voice.

“From what we can tell, it was a powerful sedative, the baby and your wife are okay. We’d like to keep her overnight and if all goes well, she can go home first thing in the morning.”

Bill nodded his head, “What kind of security do you people have here?”

“Bill this is a hospital, if she were the President, the security would be tripping over themselves. But this is Amarillo Texas, not fucking Washington DC.”

Bill shook his head in disgust, “She is to be treated just as if she were the President. You get some goddamn security and you do it now. If you’re a praying man. . . you’d best pray nothing happens to her.” Bill replied in a hard tone.

“That sounds very much like a threat detective.” a nurse said in a smug voice.

“Lady I’d never make threats, that’s a clear warning.”

“Bill what’s wrong here.” a familiar voice from behind him asked.

Bill turned around and looked into the face of the large Black reverend. “Randy. God, am I glad to see you. That bunch got into my house and doped Carol’s water. It was a warning otherwise she’d be dead. I need some security here to

watch over her.”

“Give me just five minutes partner, and I’ll have somebody here. I’ll stand

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guard over her until they arrive.”

“Detective. Don’t you think that you should be the one to watch over her?” the nurse asked. “This man is not qualified to be anybody’s bodyguard.”

“I trust him and he stays.”

“What the nurse is trying to say is: that he isn’t welcome in this hospital.” a doctor replied. His contempt and hatred, coming through loud and clear for the Black man.

Bill smiled and it looked like a wolf baring his teeth. “Doc, whatever problem you people have with Randy, you need to get over it. He’s going to watch over my wife, and if any of you give him any shit, I’ll know, then I’ll bust your ass for obstruction.”

Neither the doctor or the nurse had anything to say to that.They didn’t like it, they didn’t like the Black reverend, but they were far more scared of Bill Wilson.

Randy smiled as the familiar voice of his friend came on the telephone. “Dobs got a situation here at the hospital, an old friend of mine has his wife here. That certain group of people got into his house, doped his pregnant wife’s drinking water. No, she’s going to be okay, he needs somebody to guard her. Well, me for now. Detective Bill Wilson. No. He isn’t like any normal cop. Trust me partner I know for a fact...thanks, it’ll not be forgotten.”

Boris Stokes poured himself a drink, (His fourth straight shot of 100 proof hooch) he was not taking the pressure of Borga and his goons very well. Over the past few days he’d beaten three perps, and busted up two known hippie’s drug houses. He was now enjoying a nice fat suspension.

Brenda slowly stepped out onto the porch, lately she didn’t know what was going to set him off. Her face was still bruised from the backhand he’d given her two days ago. “Boris supper is ready.” She cringed suspecting what his response was going to be. He didn't let her down.

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“Feed it to the fucking dog, only a goddamn animal can digest that slop.”

She kept her temper in check, and went back into the house. Next time he puts a hand to me...she flinched as the screen door slammed shut. A second later Brandon began to cry.

“Shut the hell up you little bastard.” Boris shouted angrily. “Shut up, or I’ll give you a reason to cry.”

She felt a blind hot rage race through her body. She ran to the bedroom and picked up his pistol, and quickly went to Brandon’s room. “Mommy’s here honey.”

“You shut that little bastard up, or I will.” Boris, slurred.

“I think you need to leave Boris.” Brenda said in a dark and low voice. “I’m sick of your drinking and your abusive ways.”

“Ahh-baby. I don’t hit you as often as you deserve to be hit. But maybe you need a reminder, as to who is to be feared in this house.”

Brenda Stokes smiled, as she gently touched her son’s face. “Are your balls really that small? It takes a very small man, to beat on a woman or a child.”

She glanced up and saw Boris’s, reflection in the window, his expression would have been worth a photo. In an instant he was rushing across the room in a blind rage.

She turned and cocked the hammer back to the pistol. “Come on big man keep coming.” Brenda taunted.

Boris froze in his tracks, he’d never seen that look in his Brenda’s face. “Baby, this isn’t you. Give me the gun and I’ll forget all about you pointing it at me.”

“Boris you fucked up when you backed me into a corner. You ever touch me again or you hurt my baby. . . I’ll Fuckin' A kill You.”

Boris couldn’t believe the words he’d just heard. He slowly backed away and as soon as he got into the hallway, he turned and left his family. A usual act when he wanted sympathy. He went to the nearest bar and finished what he’d began at home.

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He was just a college student, and thought that he’d relax a bit by having a few beers. His only crime would be that he was from Germany.

Boris glared when he heard the accent, and finished his drink. “Hey-boy! What are you doing in my country? You go and tell Borga, that Texans don’t run from pieces of shit like him.”

“Sir I don’t know any Borga, why don’t I buy you a drink, and we can talk. You’re obviously upset about something.”

“Talk.” Boris shouted. “You want to fucking talk!”

Several people wisely left the bar, the enraged man was just too fucking big to even try to handle.

The bartender stepped into the back room and called the police. He grabbed up his ball bat and boldly walked up to the large man. “Boris you need to leave. You can’t just come in here and threaten people.”

“This ain’t none of your damn business Slim.”

“The hell it isn’t, this is my bar, I own it. On the streets you’re the law but in here you can consider me as God. And the first commandment here is: Don’t Fuck With Slim.”

Boris smiled arrogantly.

The young student stayed and watched the slender bartender. Logic screamed for him to get the hell out of there, to run and never look back. But his heart told him to stay. If the bartender wouldn’t press charges, maybe he could help this extremely large and very troubled man.

What kind of psychiatrist would he be, if he just turned his back on this man? What kind of man would he be? No better than those that beat or abuse the mentally ill.

“You don’t need to worry Boris. . . may I call you Boris?”

“I’d rather you didn’t, you some kind of a moron? You could have left without any serious injury.” Boris, said with a vicious smile.

“Boris don’t force my hand.” Slim cautioned. “I’ll bust you up if you make a

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move on him.”

“I’m a doctor, well I will be a doctor there’s no need for violence here.”

“Look Doc I know you’re trying to help, but you don’t know shit about the real world. Whatever you’ve been taught may work in theory, but this man will kill

you.” Slim said in a cold tone.

The young man had to admit, that it was the coldest smile he’d ever seen.

Several officers entered the bar, and slowly approached Boris Stokes. “Boris are you having an off day? Slim could you get me and my friend a beer please.”

Slim slowly nodded his head.

“Sir you need to leave. We’ve got this matter under control.” the officer said to the young man.

“I’d kinda like to stay.”

“Get The Fuck Outta Here!” Boris shouted. “Jesus H Christ! I’m not gonna feel charitable all goddamn night!”

The young man didn’t have to be told again, he ran out of the bar leaving his briefcase behind.

Boris smiled and shook his head. “Not too bright is he?”

“Studying to be a shrink.”

“Should have told me sooner, I know it as sure as I’m standing here: One day those people are going to put the blame of why assholes break the law at the feet of Mommy and Daddy. Mommy didn’t hold him enough, or she didn’t breast feed him. Daddy whipped him too much, or didn’t play catch with him enough. Horseshit!”

Each officer knew the truth. A truth that would one day be swept under the rug. A lowlife is the way he is, because that is exactly what he wants to be.

They’d busted young people for theft, only to find out that they came from middle class homes. They felt for some of the kids, Kids that felt that they were forced into a fight. Kids that didn’t have nicer clothes, but they still had pride. Kids that felt they were forced to defend their parents.

Several years ago there was a boy that was a repeat offender.

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His father was part of the Brotherhood, but wasn’t exactly likeable. He had a real problem with kids, and controlling his anger in general. They knew he was dirty but didn’t know just how deep the dirt went.

The boy’s only crime was fighting. He’d defend his father, and almost never lost a fight. One on one, sometimes two to three on one. He was never arrested, out of professional courtesy they’d calm him down then send him home.

They pulled over one evening to talk to the boy and found that he had been beaten...severely beaten.

“I guess Dad didn’t like the fact that I walked away, instead of beating the shit out of that kid.”

That was all it took, they took the kid to the hospital, and sent other officers to the boy’s home. They arrested the father and took great pleasure in escorting him to the car in handcuffs.

A neighbor came out and glared her hate at the large man. “You taking him in for what he does to his son?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“He beats him with whatever he can get his hands on, it don’t matter what it is. The boy tries not to cry out, but sometimes the pain is too much. The boy will sometimes fight back, and end the fight. Somebody needs to take that boy in and teach him to love.”

“Yes ma’am somebody does, it’ll be up to the state now though.”

That had been eight years ago, Matt Black had become a very fine young man. A man by the name of Darry Frank had fought and won custody of the boy.

The boy had already been sent over seas to fight in that bullshit little police action as they called it. The Officer shook away the old memories. Boris was under a lot of pressure, and even though he knew that didn’t make it right, he felt that Boris would never really harm his wife and kid.

“Boris lets get you to the Safe House, so you can sleep this off. Maybe by tomorrow night Brenda, will be calm enough to talk this out.”

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“I scared her really bad this time–she actually pulled a gun on me.”

Suddenly all went silent.

“I believe that she would have used it too. I was out of control, and she thought that I was going to hurt the baby...hell I was going to hurt him. His crying got to me, he’s been sick the past few days. I guess his tummy-ache came back.”

The officer helped steady the large man as they walked toward the door.

Boris Stokes should not be a cop, the man was dangerous. For Brenda to be forced to pull a gun, something was very wrong. She just wasn’t the type to pull a gun. Brenda was a very sweet and gentle lady. Somebody was gonna have to do something. Maybe they’d talk to the captain, and get Boris put behind a desk.

Yes. Something was going to have to be done to stop Boris Stokes. Goddamn sadistic bastard.

As if I didn’t have enough to worry with, now I had agreed to send some men to Amarillo to be bodyguards to some cop’s wife. If Randy says the cop was a straight shooter then the cop was clean.

Somehow I just knew that all this was leading to something very big. Maybe not tomorrow, next week, or even next month, but somewhere along the lines all hell was going to break loose.

To think all I wanted, was to live a decent life. To have a good woman, and to have children that any man would be proud of. To try and give them all, the better things in life.

I never wanted to be rich, or to have false respect from any man. Shit. Life never goes the way you want it. If it did then Susan would be in HOLLYWOOD, Peggy would be a centerfold model, and Darren would now be called The Queen of Independence Day. (He may still have a shot at that) I’d be sitting at home drinking a beer, waiting for June to rub my sore aching muscles.

No. Nothing ever goes the way we want it to. The way things stand now, I’m

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not even going to be there, to see my son come into this world.

June had told me that yes, it was a boy, and that he’d be strong, brave and intelligent just like his father. “On your lonely days, you ain’t been seeing the mailman have you?” I asked with a grin.

“No way! That man’s as ugly as they come, now the pool cleaner is...” She then made a growling sound as she patted her chest.

“Baby there are no pools in our neighborhood.”

“Is too.” she said with a pouty look.

To me that had always made her look more sexy.

“He’s out there working right now, working next door to the Henderson’s.”

“Baby that’s a side street.”

“Go Look!” she challenged.

I stepped outside and walked to the corner, and saw a very large man with a beer belly standing knee deep in a hole filled with water. His pant’s had worked down just enough to give show sizeable butt crack.

I went back to the house, and June was standing in the hall laughing. “Ain’t he hot?” she asked as she fluttered her eyes.

The echo of her laughter faded, and she vanished right before my eyes.

Yeah-if things went the way I wanted, my wife would be here. Not God knows where, because she needed protection from this group of assholes. Protection that she needed because of me. If I hadn’t let them get to me-if only I had kept my temper in check.

And if my aunt had wheels she’d be a wagon.

There is a preset destiny, for each man, woman, and child. I’ve seen people stabbed and shot, that survived. I’ve seen men fall ten feet and die, I once saw a little boy hit by a car. He was knocked five feet in the air and ten feet back. He landed on his feet, staggered back two feet and fell on his butt.

At the time I’d thought this kid is dead, he just don’t know it. He got to his feet, rubbing his chest. Not one tear, it had to have hurt, even the fear

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should have brought tears. He surprised us all.

“Shit! My old man hits harder than that, and he’s far more scary when he gets pissed.” he’d told the growing crowd.

Today that kid is a grown man, and is one of the best cops I’ve ever met. He’s been shot something like four times, and has been stabbed twice. I just wish that the brother of his guardian angel would peek in on June from time to time. Father Frank had once told me: “When it’s your time, it’s your time, you can’t hide from death.”

Shit! Why was I thinking like that? I had promised June, that this bunch was not even in my league. That we’d win this battle and I’d hold her in my arms again. The thought kept nagging at me though: I was going to loose. Oh I’d take some with me, but in the end I was going to loose.

What was I thinking, when I started this crap shoot? What? That we’d actually make some kind of a difference-that we’d show these assholes that we weren’t going to take anymore of their shit.

I asked my friends to put their lives on the line. . . to risk their lives to end this. I know they’re all grown men and women, and made their own choices. But did I have that right?

A kid of one of the new people walked up to me as I sat there thinking. “Is it okay if I talk with you sir?”

“Sure,” I said with a grin. “have a seat.”

“Everybody says to leave you alone, when you’re off thinking like this. That you have a lot on your mind.”

I was trying to remember the boy’s name. The group had grown, and I hadn’t met everybody just yet. But I was certain I’d been told his name.

“. . . you’re worried that some of the group are going to die.”

“You’re very astute,” I said with a grin. “I was wondering if I had the right to ask any of them to risk their lives.”

“The way I see it: Many of them would have joined whether you’d asked them to

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or not. Some would have still waited for the invite. They all have one thing in common sir, they must all love their freedom. I don’t think they’d be here if they didn’t.

“I remember learning about the men of the Alamo: Men from all over came to fight for Texas freedom. Men who didn’t have anything to gain, but everything to loose in the end. They heard the call, and came to fight. They fought because they believed in freedom, they fought because they were men of honor.”

“But from the start, this was my fight. . .”

The boy shook his head, “You only think it was your fight, it was the fight of everybody you see here. You’re thinking with your heart, and I think that makes you a good leader. You won’t send your people in needlessly, you want to win

with a minimum loss of our people. You’ll be cautious, that’s what will help us to win this. But you’re never too cautious.

“You’ll not sit on your hands, because you don’t want to be responsible for deaths. You’ll do what is right, and our people will follow you to the very end.”

Jeff Bragon. The boy’s name is Jeff Bragon.

“You really are a bright kid.”

“You just needed somebody outside the forest to show you the trees.”

Damn bright.

“Yeah I guess I did at that Jeff.”

The boy gave a boyish grin.

That didn’t help matters, he should be off playing ball, or getting into some kind of mischief that boys his age get in to. But his talk did help.

I watched as the boy ran off, it just wasn’t right. That boy shouldn’t be here, none of these children should. But where else could they have gone?

Many had become orphaned, because of this. Their parents had refused to bend, and had been killed. Jeff was a unique child, he was very bright. But he also knew when to fight, and when to walk away.

The men that had killed his parents were going to rape his sister. He found

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his father’s pistol, and slipped through the house as silently as possible. He’d paused long enough to turn on the gas in each room.

He quickly stepped into the bedroom, and gut shot one man, and shot a second just above the knee. “You let my Sister go, or I’m gonna fucking kill you all!”

“Boy you had best give me that pistol, or I swear I’ll make her scream.” one man said in a cold tone.

“She should have done that the moment she saw your ugly face.” Jeff, said as he cocked the hammer back. “Sis get your clothes on and get over here by me.”

The men stood back looking at the boy holding the pistol in his hand. There was something about this boy, the cold look in his eyes told them that he would definitely pull the trigger on them.

Simone quickly pulled her top over her head and rushed to her brother. “Let’s go Jeffy.”

The boy stood silently looking into the eyes of each man. He wanted to remember the look each man had. Evil. Pure fucking evil.

The boy backed away and grabbed his sister’s hand, as they ran to the back door. “What’s that smell...” Simone asked.

“Shut The Fuck Up, and Run!” Jeff ordered.

The brother and sister ran out the back door. Jeff turned and fired into the kitchen window. The house erupted into a massive ball of flames. The brother and sister were knocked off their feet,

Jeff quickly rolled to rest on one knee. “Sorry ass Bastards!” he muttered bitterly. “That one was for you Mom and Dad.”

Simone looked at her little brother as though for the first time. “Jeffy you okay?” she asked nervously.

“Yeah I’m okay...none of them...you know?”

“No. They never got the chance, what are we going to do now?”

“I parked the truck down the street, we’re heading out to join up with Dobs Macalister. We’ll be safe there.”

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Kid had a lot of guts. Dobs thought. His parents had been taken from him. He was very pissed, and he’d been able to save his sister...a ten year old boy took out four grown men.

There were probably other horror stories from other children. Maybe they didn’t have time to think like Jeff had done. Maybe they didn’t have the instinct. Why did some have it and others not?

The large man watched as the leader of their group sat and chain-smoke cigarettes. He’d been fighting little wars like this for most of his life. He was of Cajun and Italian descent. His mother’s blood being the dominant. He was a fighter for justice.

His name was Louis Reapher and he’d been a hell-raiser for most of his life. Never giving in, and certainly never allowing himself, to be considered just one of the crowd. He was tough minded but fair in dealing with people: Keep your hands and your petty thoughts to yourself. You’ll find that you live longer and healthier. Fuck with the wrong person and you can get your ass handed to you.

He’d heard of the growing rebellion and Louie didn’t wait for a personal invite. He showed up with close to a hundred Black men, women and children.

He’d seen how the White people were treating the Black people, and it didn’t just enraged him, it down right pissed him off.

The first time he saw a redneck attempting to assault an elderly black lady, his Cajun temper hit full steam. Her crime? She’d not stepped off into a puddle of mud to allow him to pass.

He told the police straight out: “Any man that puts his hands on a woman deserves to be horsewhipped, and any man that closes his eyes to trash like that shithead deserves the same treatment.”

The officers were very understanding and caring to Louie’s feelings. They showed their concern for his rights, the entire time he was being booked.

Louie spoke in rapid Cajun French, as they closed the cell door. “What did you say?” an officer asked.

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“I said you and the justice system can kiss my ass.” Louis replied with a smile. “That was sugarcoated so as not to offend your young idealistic views shithead.”

The officer was trembling with rage as he unlocked the cell door. “Now I’m going to make you scream, you Cajun fucker.”

Louie pretended to look scared, “Oh my-my, the officer is gonna shoot liquid law goo up my ass.”

“What!”

“I didn’t think they allowed your kind to wear a badge.”

“What do you mean my kind!” the cop demanded.

Louie smiled and fluttered his eyes. “You know what I mean sweet-stuff.”

The cell door was opened and the cop pulled his nightstick and attacked.

Louie huddled into a corner, and covered his face and head as best he could. Many of the prisoners began to yell, for anyone to come and help.

Several officers rushed into the area, and found the young officer beating the unarmed man. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do whatever it was I did. Just don’t let him hurt me anymore.”

“He. . . he tried to say that I was a goddamn queer!” the officer said in a shaky voice.

“He went after him after the cell door had been shut.” a prisoner called out. “He let mere words get to him, he never was in any danger.”

“Get this man cleaned up.” the sergeant shouted to another officer. “Goddamnit Jenkins! I’m tired of cleaning up your fuck ups. This time I’m going to feed your ass to the Captain.”

Louie smiled at the officer and fluttered his eyes.

“Sergeant this man is scamming you. He ain’t hurt...”

“Did he also fake the beating you were caught giving him?”

“No. . . he pushed me into it.”

“I don’t think that will stand up in court, you better pray that you have a

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good lawyer.”

“May I make an offer?” Louie asked.

“What kind of offer.”

“Drop the charges against me, and I won’t press charges against him. From what I understand, the police don’t need this kind of heat on them, at this particular point and time.”

“You assaulted a man.”

“In a fit of anger for his actions against a near blind and deaf elderly Black woman. I. . . only used my hands and feet. The officer here used a club.”

The young officer rushed up to the hard-nosed officer “Sergeant. The captain says to let Mister Reapher go, all charges have been dropped.” the young man said in a hushed whisper.

“Did he say why?”

The young officer nodded his head. “Yes sir. He said Lewis is redneck bigot, and that someday, somebody is going to do far worse, than just kick his ass.”

“Did he say anything else?” the sergeant asked drily.

“He wants to see you, and the sack of shit that assaulted Mr. Reapher. His words sir.” the young officer replied with a smile. He was enjoying this. “He told me after wards, that no officer in this department was going to act in such a manner.”

“You little weasel.” the officer growled.

“Careful. You don’t want a third, assault charge filed against you.” the young officer taunted, nothing was being done, but...

“A third?” the sergeant asked nervously.

“He tried to rape a young woman two nights ago, he would have done it had I

not pulled my pistol, and threatened to shoot him.”

The prisoners all fell silent, their crimes ranged from criminal trespass, to drunk and disorderly. Okay. So they’d broken the law, but they’d never done an act of violence.

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“Is this true?” the Sergeant demanded, forgetting exactly where they were.

“She was some hooker and the talk got a little out of hand.”

“Bullshit! Sergeant, she was a teenager, just barely sixteen. I pulled over because I recognized the car. She’s a good kid as well as a good friend of my brother Jimmy. She told me what he’d asked of her. Wanted her to suck him off.

“Jimmy made me promise to take care of this, since I was there and saw it, I’d already followed SOP that night. Yeah, I went over your head and straight to the Captain. I didn’t want another so-called misunderstanding to be swept under the rug.”

“You mentioned me in the other matters?”

“I sure as hell did. I have a good feeling that life as you know it is going to come to an end.” the Officer said with a smile.

“Fucking Weasel!” the sergeant muttered.

The young officer smiled as the two men left the area. “You did that on purpose, said all that in front of the prisoners.” Louis said with a faint smile.

“By the end of the day, they’ll be civilians. Whatever happens then is their own damn problem.”

“You got a streak of meanness in you as cold as ice.”

The young officer lead the larger man, down the hall out of hearing distance of the other prisoners. “That one officer is quite large, aren’t you worried that he may come after you?”

“If he does he’ll pay the price.”

“Oh?”

“I’d kill him as surely as I would a rabid dog, thing is I’d feel sorry for the dog.”

Many people really were changing and depending on one's perspective the change was for the better. In some ways the people really were trying to bridge the gap between the races. Now if only someone can get the wrong types on all sides to shut the hell up.

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Randy knew that he was losing sight of who he was and why he’d been sent in. He knew that this group was basically harmless. They wanted their neighborhood to be as close to crime free as possible. He’d been with the Company for a very short time, and maybe he still had a lot to learn. But he was a good judge of character. He’d known many of these people his whole life. They were all good men and women.

If anybody should be arrested, it’s those that wore badges in this little shithole town. He knew for a certain fact who was dirty and who was going to fall. Many of which were his own people. The Company had been compromised.

The Quest

Chapter Eight

Borga smiled as he read the report, that had just been handed to him. His numbers had tripled in just the past week. His people should be very pleased with him.

Now if only something could be done about the cops in this town, they’d blatantly ignored the fact that he was above their laws. They defiantly followed him around town, and they’d get businesses to hold his shipments.

Maybe he should start sending out messages, nothing deadly just yet. Just a few subtle warnings, to remind them as to just who is in charge.

Just a little something special to scare the bastards, a friendly reminder. If a cop’s family is marked, they usually fall in line. Many even become quite useful, anything to keep their family safe.

There were still a few cops that concerned him: Boris Stokes, Bill Wilson, and Rob Macalister. Fear just did not exist in either man. Stokes, was on another suspension. Deservedly so, the man was a barbarian.

Wilson must be made out of ice. The man showed no fear, and it would seem that his family was untouchable.

Macalister had told his men straight out that he didn’t believe in their immunity. That on his land he was God, his men had told him that this man was dangerous. Probably even more so than Stokes or Wilson.

It would seem that the whole town knew what he was in to. Some had actually embraced his concepts, they’d been paid well for their help, those that didn’t

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would be dealt with very soon.

If someone could help him to get to Stokes, then most of his problems would be over. Those that say it was best to fear Macalister were fools and fuck ups.

The man was miles out in the country, away from any possible help. He’d just deal with him at a later date. It would have to be something very special.

That other Macalister, the one that was leading the rebellion in Borger. That was the one that was to be dealt with right now. The man was costing him too much money, and in all likelihood could screw up a very carefully made plan.

Those that were paying him would not excuse failure, he could count on either a bullet, or he could possibly disappear forever.

Yes. It was very ballsey to be on these people’s payrole, to actually make plans, as well as to work with them. Who’d ever think that they would plan such an act. That president will be very sorry that he ever crossed Rogue Group.

Had I known that in a off way, we were all to play a role in history, I would have played my role better. If only, I’d had the foresight to realize that all of the happenings, in our little town was just a smokescreen.

So many people and so many deaths, and our own government right in the middle of it all. I’d never trusted anybody that spoke the words: “But we’re here to help you. You need to trust us.”

I’d rather take my chances with a rabid dog.

The one consistent thing in all our lives was our growing numbers. The press gave us some attention. But now with us being a small country type community, they too were country folks. They didn’t judge us in the paper, they spoke out vocally.

She was the first female to work as a reporter, actually she was freelance. Her name was Sally Ann. It took just one look for her to see, that we’d taken in orphans, and the elderly for her to swing her allegiance to our side.

Sometimes all it takes is for people to open their damn eyes to see. To actually see and stop being so damn judgmental.

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Having her with us did complicate matters just a bit, but she had a lot of clout with a certain politician. Who we later learned was her uncle.

She played it straight with us from the start, God only knows what she’d expected to find in our compound.

The boys came in from their little mission of Lenny’s store. “We had a little trouble, but nothing that we couldn’t handle.”

I noticed two new faces and shook my head. They were Lenny’s employees. “Okay let’s hear it.” I said in a low voice.

“The FEDS decided to try and stop us, they fired first. We did try to reason with them sir, but they just weren’t into small talk.”

“How many did they loose?”

“Eight. But sir, I don’t think they were. . . I mean there was something about this group. They weren’t trained like the other FEDS. They came straight ahead, and we took em out. We brought the two employees, because we feared for their safety.”

“Explain.”

“Just a feeling sir, nothing real tangible.”

Recruitment. They’d gone to recruiting. They were getting smarter and more cautious. Why-let their own men die, when hero-wannabes can fill that gap.

Group One may also be getting desperate, whatever was in the works may depend on the group as a whole. If they loose too many of their own people it would become a very large cluster fuck.

Okay, so the bad guys were attempting to grow a brain, how much more shit can get piled on the already growing mound? If they recruit experienced soldiers we may have a problem, but what soldier would ever do such a thing?

They had sworn that oath to support and defend the Constitution, to defend the country against all enemies foreign and domestic. The enemy was clear, and it was obvious that it wasn’t us.

I could only hope that the people joining the ranks of the enemy wasn’t

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mercs. If they were then we were going to be in trouble. Mercs have no honor and will kill women, children, the elderly and disabled.

But what could be so important? As a leader in some ways I was at a disadvantage. I had no idea as to how corrupt certain members of our government could actually be. Or how to counter.

Our government is based on fear. John Adams had said: Fear is the foundation of most governments. How true those words were to become for our own country, there were people being forced into bankruptcy by an uncaring government. The IRS having far more power than ever intended.

Agents will one day having the power to enter a home, and kill every living being inside, men, women, children, and babies. Even small inoffensive family pets.

The power to kill. To be so far above the law, that even God Himself would seem powerless. But like the Bible says: To all things there is a season. There is a time to loose and there is a time to kill.

Time is very strange thing, twenty to thirty years isn’t all that long. If a man or woman is thirty then they are still considered young. But thirty years in prison can be a lifetime.

In time people may actually see that some laws are wrong, they may even fight to regain what was suppose to be theirs to begin with. The right to run the government the way they feel it should be ran.

There may even come a time when the life expectancy of the lawless is shorter than that of a cockroach. But those days are probably way down the line, probably sometime in the next millennium, if ever.

If the lawyers and crooked politicians have anything to say or do about it those days will never come to be.

The Quest

Chapter Nine

Sir Robert and Sara Ann packed up a few belongings, and took one last look at the castle that had been their home. It had been their choice to leave England, and to return to America, the staff was sadly waiting for them at the door.

“Goodbye my friends,” Sir Robert said softly. “I shall miss you, and I’ll always have warm thoughts of you all.”

The chauffeur smiled sadly as he hugged the young man, that he’d known since the man was just a toddler. “Goodbye Sir. I must say, chauffeurs rarely get the chance to feel like family rather than just a paycheck to be paid.”

The entire staff nodded their heads in unison. They were a very tight knit group, and they knew the why of this departure. They also knew that Sir Robert was also going back to America out of a sense of honor. There was something big and evil happening there, and his family was going to need his help.

The young man was no coward and nobody could ever accuse him of being one. Anyone that did would be made to look the fool as Sir Robert kicked their ass.

The young family was probably leaving for good, no return, and probably very little contact. But they would still know most of what was going on in their lives, and that would be something at least.

Lyle was a. . . to use an American expression, the man was an asshole, as well as a complete dickhead. He was not liked by anyone. The dogs didn't even like him, they growled at him and one even squated and pissed on his foot.

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Sara Ann smiled as she hugged Cook’s neck. “Thank you for being part of my life. . . I’ll miss you, and I do love you.”

The older woman smiled as the young woman hugged her, she slowly put her arms around Sara Ann. “I love you too Miss Sara.”

Joe Macalister came in from his work out in the field, he paused at the laundry to remove his sweaty shirt, and to rinse the sweat off. The young maid rushed up to him her eyes wide with panic. “Mister Joe! Sir Lyle, has gone crazy. I fear for the missus.”

Joe rushed toward the sounds of the angry voices. “And just like magic here comes the great Joe Macalister. I want you out of here as well Macalister, the bastard brother is no longer welcome here in my home.”

Joe nodded his head, “I’ll be packed and out of here today Lyle.”

“Since when did you stop, addressing me by my proper title?”

“The moment you started acting like a total ass. Lady Grace are you okay? Do you need me to contact Sir Robert?”

“No. But thank you Joe. No need in worrying him. . . Lyle knows not to lay a hand to me.”

“I Demand To Be Addressed By My Proper Title!” Lyle shouted.

Joe smiled as he turned his back to the smaller man, “Are you certain? I wouldn’t trust that little rat face motherfucker any further than I can throw him.”

Joe, knew exactly how and what buttons to push to antagonize Lyle, and he was purposely doing that. The smaller man was a coward, and was the type that would attack a man from behind.

He would pick up a sword and stab a man in the back, and claim that he ran it through from the front. Lyle, was totally lacking in honor and royalty or not nobody would ever bow to him, in fact he’d probably be removed from his place of honor very soon. The rightful heirs were soon to take what was rightfully theirs. Truth was the Clary’s did not actually have any royal blood in their veins. It was

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a deal made many years ago to protect the rightful heirs of the throne

“He’s too big a coward Sir Joe totally lacking in honor.”

“All the more reason to watch our backs when around him.”

Lyle was shaking with rage, at the slurs against him.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Lady Grace replied with a sigh. “He really shouldn’t be trusted. Jerry, always said he was a little weasel.”

“Maybe it would be best if you were to pack a few things, and go to America with us.”

The two maids smiled as they walked down the stairs with two suitcases. Joe’s personal man servant smiled as he walked up to stand beside Joe. “I took it upon myself to pack your belongings sir. Except for the clothing I laid out on the bed. The flight does not leave for another two and a half hours.”

“I want them out NOW!” Lyle shouted.

“The limo will be waiting for you and Lady Grace.”

“Goddamnit! I’m your employer, and I’m ordering you to throw them out!”

The man servant smiled and winked at Joe before turning to face the loud little man. “Save yourself some healing time and just shut the fuck up.”

Joe smiled. It was probably the first time in history that a servant in Merry Ole England had ever told his employer to do such a thing. Lyle, took a step back, and looked at the man servant as though for the first time. “Call security.” Lyle ordered.

The two women stood their ground.

“I gave you a direct order.”

“Here’s an order for you,” the taller of two replied sweetly. “Go Fuck Yourself.”

Lyle shook his head in confusion. Just what was going on? He was Sir Lyle Clary. He boldly went to the phone and punched out the number. “I need you to get up here. Well to see to it that these people are removed from my property!”

“Lady Grace and Sir Joe?”

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“No Santa Claus and his faggot reindeer.” Lyle shouted.

“Sorry, but we don’t take orders from you anymore.”

Lyle was shaking so badly that he had to sit down. He had a feeling that he

knew the answer but he had to ask. “Who do you take your orders from?”

“No one. We quit.”

“What!” not what he expected.

“We quit. But as a special favor to Lady Grace, we’re sticking around to take her and Sir Joe to the airport.”

Lyle hung up the phone and turned and looked at the staff. “Will somebody get me a drink?”

No one moved, his world was crashing down around him, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Joe Macalister had changed since coming to England, he was no longer that young boy. The long hours of working in the fields and the woods had added heavy muscle to his frame. Listening to Lyle rant and rave constantly had added fire to his heart.

He knew that there were people that had to preform services like that of the staff. But there was no call to be rude to them, to ever treat them less than human. It was never right to ever show disrespect to them or people like them.

Lyle had once told him that he did not have to say thank you to them when they were in performance of their duties.

A young woman had once burned her hand very badly and Lyle had refused her medical treatment. Joe then took it upon himself to take her to the hospital. He’d even paid the bill out of his own pocket. When Lyle found out he fired the young woman, Lady Grace promptly rehired her of course.

Yes. Young Joe was very much attracted to her. She was very beautiful and her Irish accent drove him crazy. Joe smiled as he went back to the kitchen, “Lydia! Lydia McQuay!”

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The young blue eyed blonde haired girl smiled as she stood up from the table. It would seem that the kitchen staff had also decided to strike.

“I’m going back to America.” Joe said softly.

“I’ll miss you.” she said sweetly fighting her own emotions.

“You don’t have to miss me.”

The kitchen staff suddenly chose that time to find something to do. But made certain that they could remain within earshot.

“I want to miss you, don’t tell me what to do.”

It was an old game that they played. Lyle had always tried to dictate morality, and Joe had told him to put a sock in it. That was one thing he could not rule over, that and a person’s emotions. Since then it was a game that the two young people played.

“You could always come back with me. . . of course you’ll have to marry me first. Just the very idea of living together won’t set too well with my mother.”

The girl smiled and quickly turned around to face Joe. “What the hell took you so long?”

The cook smiled and dabbed at his eyes, “It’s about bloody time he asked her. I thought I was going to have to take to hosing them down.”

The staff cheered as Joe, took the young woman into his arms and gently kissed her lips. Lady Grace smiled as she went to the phone to make a call. She’d had a feeling that Joe Macalister, would not leave the girl behind.

He may not have been born of noble blood, but the young man had more honor, and decency than anybody she’d ever met. He was ever bit the gentleman, and lived by a very strong code of honor.

He may have come to England as a boy, but he was leaving as a man. That is the true goal of any man, to find his own path and to decide for himself as to what makes a man.

Lady Grace, knew that the young man’s parents would be very pleased with the person that returned to them. The man that Joe Macalister had become.

The Quest CH.9/PG.76

The agents that were working in Sir Lyle’s employment felt that it was about to come to an end. They had developed a fondness for Joe Macalister. The young man could have become a real asshole. But stuck very close to the morals taught to him.

Four of the agents had wondered, what would have happened had Joe ever lost his temper and made a grab for Lyle. They were Sir Lyle’s personal bodyguards.

The man was an asshole, but they were suppose to protect him. It had taken a lot of finagling to get them into a position of such importance.

Yeah. They’d have to stop it, under protest of course. They knew that he was

connected to a lot of crooked shit back in the states. It was also very possible, that he was getting fat off that growing matter in southeast Asia.

The bastard was dirty, and they were the Cleaners, they’d been invited to come there to find what they could. But of course, they could not arrest, or in anyway punish the man. Nor, was he to be extradited back to the United States.

Then what good were they? If he were to be punished it would be by his own country. If it were anybody but someone like Sir Lyle, it would not have mattered. But for it to be a very prominent member of their country, it must be hushed. No one could ever know that Merry Ole England, also has a problem with scumbags.

It can happen in the best of families, but of course the truth behind the big lie would soon be revealed. The Clary family, had no royal blood in them. They had been pulled in years ago as decoys to protect the actual Royal family. But that problem had been taken care of, the last of their enemies had been seen to.

They had been buried in a very deep hole.

The Clary family was going to go to America, and blend in and become westerners. The very Idea of them becoming Americans was not so bad, they could handle it.

It would be kinda col to become like the rest of their family, to say Howdy and Ya'll. It was going to be a hoot with that accent though, and not many people no mater how they tried would be able to keep a straight face.

Yippee Ki Yay England!

The Quest CH.9/PG.77

Agent Larris was in the fancy office in Austin Texas. Her usual arrogance was very evident. “It’s going to hit the fan.” Agent Larris said. “I don’t know when, where or to who. These folks in Texas, have really pissed off a lot of people, the attitude has shifted.”

“Agent Larris are you certain that you’re not just looking so hard to find some little something, that you’re not just inventing a situation?”

“I’ve been an agent too long to fall for that!” Cindy Larris fired back. “I can see that, you’re going to ignore this matter, until several hundred people are killed!” she finally paused to take a long quivering breath. “There are children involved. . . FUCK IT! My resignation will be on your fucking desk by the end of the day.”

The young woman walked out of the office wanting so badly to have beaten the

shit out of the man. He was a bureaucrat that was just trying to cover his own ass. If he didn’t give the order to act then he could never be held accountable.

There was yet one other possibility, one that she’d tried desperately not to even think about. To do so could be considered as heresy: How deep was this situation? Just who on their team was involved?

Back to the laws of the jungle: No one is above suspicion. All is guilty until proven innocent. There’s someone on their team that’s dirty. Now, to find the bastard, before it’s too late. Time to engage the Old New Rule: Trust No One.

When it comes to the laws of survival, one can only trust themselves, and if possible one other person. Always trust in God, but trust in yourself that you will do what is needed to be done.

Larris was still green, but knew enough to see that not everything is always as it seems. Even if what you see appears to be clearly defined, it doesn’t always mean that’s the way it is.

Some people are very good at covering their tracks, and even better at laying down a false trail to someone else. This thing was getting bigger, and was about to get very dangerous. She wasn’t Susie Homemaker. She doesn’t bake cookies or even

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brownies.

She goes in and accesses the situation, reaches her contact and follows orders. It was getting to the point though where some orders were ridicules, as well as just plain wrong.

There are times that if you don’t question the order then you’re a damn fool. Yes, some of those orders given are only to cover the asses of self-serving dunderheads that somehow received the right amount of votes to get elected.

To think what she sometimes thought was probably the most human thing any agent ever does. But if they were to ever act on those thoughts would probably get them life under the blade of the guillotine. Talk about the being under the sword of Damocles.

Might be right but would also be so very wrong, and the cost would be unacceptable. She had no choice but to follow orders, no matter how wrong they were. They would and could be viewed as a treasonous act.

When it comes to the government of the united States it's actually up for grabs as to what they may consider as a wrongful act. Say or write your thoughts about someone who is thin skinned and they could take you to court and then you file for bankruptcy. Defend yourself against an attack and just because you might be a better fighter the courts may see it in favor of your attacker.

Bad guy breaks into your home and gets bit by the family pet you could wind up being responsible for their medical bills. Never mind the fact that they broke into your home to rob you and do some unspeakable act upon a family member.

Larris knew that it was bad, and she knew that it was only going to get worse. Yes the people were pissed and they had every right to be pissed, but to rebel like they doing was only going to get innocent people killed, and then there will be the lawsuits from the bad guys or from their family.

Today and even years from now it will always seem that the bad guys will always have the upper-hand. Yes, she knew it was wrong but what could she do? What join the rebels and then go into deep hiding, fake her death to avoid arrest?

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Amarillo:

The young man had been injured early in the game and had been sent home. Something he couldn’t understand since his injuries were not all that serious. Maybe it’s because this is about to come to an end. He thought logically.

War hasn’t been officially declared, and they’re going to get our guys out of there. It really isn’t our business anyway, some say that it’s nothing more than a internal civil war. Our government is calling this a police action. Bullshit! Something is in the wind, something very bad.

It will never be truly be over, and our own government is up to something, and being the USA it’ll be something dirty. Look at how many treaties they’d made and broke with the Indians.

But then again: It was the Indian’s own fault. How dare they be on our land before we could get here. Dibs were called. Hey, maybe the Indians were just keeping it warm for us. You Think?

The biggest crime syndicate was the government, they justify their actions by saying, they knew what was best for the people. By the time the people could or would wise up, it’d be too late.

The US government was too big and too powerful to combat.

They call it paying your taxes. Paying your dues.

Yeah-right, try the term extortion.

Pay us a fair share of taxes (set by us) or spend eternity in financial ruin. Many call it hell. All it would take is for two or three thousand people to say: “Go Fuck Yourselves.”

Their philosophy would take root, and it would spread like a wildfire.

Matt knew that all it would take: Is for the American people to ban together. To fight back against crime, and actually start shooting the lawless bastards. To tell the government to fuck off. Until that happened they were all screwed.

The people had every right to get pissed and to do the unthinkable and to rebel. They had the right to send a list of grievances to the government. Right?

The Quest CH.9/PG.80

The young couple had just come back from their honeymoon and had gone and

retrieved her pets from her best girlfriend. A very large temperamental Siamese, and a toy poodle pup and of course the ever popular pit bull. “They’ve become best friends.” The young woman said with a smile. “Zeus and Winder play chase, and yes it’s very playful. They sleep together and even eat out of the same bowl.”

John Simms laughed and shook his head, “Life as we know it is over when dogs and cats become friends. Especially when it’s that cat, even my pit bull decided to make peace with him.”

“Zeus is very gentle,” his wife said with a smile defending her pet. “He just has a little problem with authority. He thinks he suppose to be in charge.”

“Jenny. The cat waits until his prey is asleep, and then pees in their face.”

“What about Slugo? He sits on the other animal’s heads and farts. It’s a domination thing with him, he even laughs after wards.”

Dana laughed at the exchange between her two closest friends, this was very mild compared to when they really got going. In fact one concerned citizen had called the cops, thinking that they were about to kill each other. It took some fancy talking to get the cops to understand that they had no such intentions.

In fact their play fussing always had a way getting their blood up.

“Slugo calls em the way he sees em, he knows that basically Zeus is full of hot air. He barks a lot as if to tell Zeus to: Can it.”

“My friends though I’m truly enjoying this deep, intellectual conversation I have some pressing matters to see to. Things that I’m truly looking forward to. A deranged killer has promised to drive an icepick into my skull.”

“Let’s just go home and tame the giant anaconda.” John, said with a mischievous laugh. “We'll be back a little later for Slugo.”

Dana quickly put her hands to her ears, “Now that topic is one I could really have avoided hearing.”

The young couple laughed as they gathered up the two pets. “Thanks again Dana.” Jenny said as they walked out the door. “We owe you one.”

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The young woman smiled sadly as her two closest friends pulled out of the drive. “You did real good in getting them in and out of here.” the man said. “You actually saved their lives.”

“Why them? They pose no threat to you or the government.”

“And they never will, people like them will be stopped before they can ever rise to power. The rebellion will never be.”

The young woman felt only a moment of intense pain as the man slit her throat. He smiled, in a very perverse sense of sexual satisfaction as the woman’s blood sprayed his face and chest.

“Did Dana seem to be acting a bit odd to you?” Jenny asked.

“Odd? You’re asking me if a woman that mooned the audience during a Shakespearean play was acting odd?”

“They were falling asleep.” Jenny reminded him.

“She certainly woke them up didn’t she?” John asked.

They both shared a quiet laugh, but something was still nagging at Jenny’s mind. She suddenly knew what it was, it was something Dana had said: A deranged killer had promised to shove an ice pick into her brain.

Dana hadn’t even liked the movie Psycho, she didn’t like movies like that, nor did she make jokes about them. “John. I pray that I’m wrong, but I think that somebody was in there with Dana. Somebody she didn’t want to be there.”

Then she told him why.

John felt the hairs on his neck tingle, his wife was right. Why hadn’t he picked up on that? “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll call the cops and tell them our suspicions. Then you can call her and try to keep her on the line until the cops arrive.”

“And what are you going to be doing?” Jenny asked sharply.

“Hopefully. . . not having to save her life.” John said softly.

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

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“Don’t worry about me baby.” John, said gently. “Remember my grandfather raised me, and the first thing he taught me was to never be a fool. I’ll go armed, and if we’re right. . . I’ll just shoot the fucker.”

He was shocked at the horrified look on his young bride’s face. “John! The cops will arrest you. They put people like that in prison, remember what happened

to your grandfather.”

“Have to tell you about that sometime. Okay-baby, if we’re right I’ll give the bastard one chance to surrender. ONE CHANCE! After that all bets are off.”

“You sound as though you might be looking forward to doing. . . whatever it is you’re going to do.”

“Let’s just say that nobody in the history of my family has ever taken any shit. I’m not about to be the first.”

John put up a warning hand as he pulled into the driveway. Did the curtain in the den just move? May have just been, the wind from a cracked window, and it could also have been the result of Slugo farting.

“Stay put!” John said in a firm voice. “Whatever happens keep out of the house. If I’m not back in five minutes, get the hell out of here, and go call the cops.”

“John. . .”

“Just do as I say!” John said using a tone she’d never heard him use before. “With any kind of luck,” he softened the tension with a smile. “Dana just left a window cracked, and that’s what moved the curtain. Just do as I said, do I have your word?”

“You have my word.” she replied softly true fear in her eyes. She watched as her husband slowly approached the house. What could possibly be going through his mind? It was as though he’d suddenly flipped a switch and became a different person.

He paused long enough to pull up the thick two foot piece of re-bar out of the ground from beside the porch. She shuddered at the expression on his young

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handsome face.

Yeah she’d keep her promise, the promise she’d made before God and their friends and family: To never ever forsake him, if she ran away then she’d be betraying him. If something was wrong then they’d face it together.

She opened the door: I Jenny take thee John to be my husband, I swear before God and all present that I will love, honor and protect you. I will stand beside you always in sickness and in health, and for better or worse until death do we part.

“If you’re going into battle, I’m going to be there to have your back babe. I refuse to take hell no for an answer.”

Her two pets sensing that their master was about to endanger herself jumped from the car. They ran toward the house and then into the backyard.

“Cowards.” she whispered.

John smiled as he sniffed the air and detected the slightest scent of aftershave. Stupid bastards. Definitely plural. One wore cheap aftershave and the other avoided soap, and one had recently had a drink of whiskey.

Ya’ll picked the wrong house to rob assholes. He mused.

The body stench of the unwashed man assaulted his nose, and John quickly spun around and drove the rod, into the pus gut of the large man.

The man slowly sank to his knees, his eyes wide with shock. “You kilt me.”

“Damn sure did.” John, whispered in a ice cold tone. “Where’s your buddy? Answer me you fuck!”

Her husband’s tone sent a shiver through her. Jesus. What kind of man had she married? His tone was void of any emotion. It was as though somebody, had suddenly turned off, the master switch that controlled and made, John, who she thought he was.

She was frozen with fright, as she heard the slight whisper of a footstep behind her. She silently cursed herself and the fact she’d screwed up so early in the game.

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“Keep quiet and he’ll live.” the man whispered.

Jenny nodded.

“You two just got married?”

Again a nod.

“You want a long life together, you do as I say, when I say.” the man said as he ran a hand over Jenny’s body. “Goddamn you got a nice set of tits. Maybe I’ll just keep you for myself.” the man said as he ripped her blouse open, and buried his face in her ample mounds.

She’d never been in a situation like this before. Her mother had never been too bright, she’d told her that if a boy tried anything, to tell him: “No! I’m not

that kind of girl.”

Her father had taken her off to one side and whispered in her ear the real facts of life. It was reflex for her. She drove her knee into the man’s crotch, and as he staggered back she swung the knife edge of her hand, and caught the man on the side of the face.

That was all the edge the animals needed. Zeus quickly jumped onto the man’s head and began to claw at his face and eyes. Slugo appeared and savagely bit into the back of the man’s leg, taking the man down to the floor.

John rushed forward just as Slugo, seemed to bark a command to Winder the toy poodle. John watched in confusion as the small dog attacked the man’s crotch.

Zeus screamed as he bit and clawed the man’s face and throat. John looked into the frightened face of his bride. His anger almost at the danger level when he saw her torn blouse.

Winder gave a hard tug and the man screamed in pain and fear. Slugo gave another command and the two smaller pets backed off. The man was jerking and twitching as the pit bull sat on the man’s head. He jumped up and raked his hind legs and pranced and barked.

“I’ll be damned.” John muttered. “Little bastard, does laugh.”

Then there was a silence as the blood poured onto floor.

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“John let’s just get the hell out of here.” Jenny said in a suddenly calm voice as she tugged at her husband’s arm.

John took a closer look at Winder, and paled as he shook his head, he felt hot bile rise in his throat.

“What!”

“You really don’t want to know.” John grimaced.

“Is Winder okay?”

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

“What is he eating?”

John composed himself and grinned. “That guy’s dick.”

Jenny barely made it outside before going to her knees and becoming violently ill. Several neighbors came running over at the sight of, Jenny upchucking. “What just happened in there?” a large man asked.

“Some bastard, just tried to rape Jenny.” John said calmly.

“Call the cops man, don’t just stand there.”

“Won’t do a damn bit of good. He and his partner are dead. I killed one and our pets took out the other one.”

“John you’re obviously in shock, we need to call the cops.”

“NO! Listen up people, the shit has hit the fan in Texas. At least one of those men was a FED. We’re getting the fuck outta here.” John, replied coldly. “If you people are smart you’ll leave too.”

Several people nodded in agreement and rushed off to pack.

The Quest

Chapter Ten

Several resistance groups had formed in Texas, their numbers ranging anywhere from sixty to one hundred and sixty. Many would fall in a very short time due to poor training and lack of any real leadership.

Punks and other assorted crap-heads would also join under one flag so to speak. But Texan’s have never been the type to take shit from anyone for any certain length of time.

The punks would fall, and many of them falling by the very victims that they’d terrorized over the years. There would be no mercy shown.

Texas, was just mere days away from being under Siege.

Ranulf Black looked over the remaining members of his group, out of seventy people there were only six people left. He felt sad and lonely sitting by himself. They did not blame him for the deaths, but he sure as hell did.

They’d forced the role of leadership upon him, and instead of running away he chose to fight beside them. They were simply outnumbered, but not outclassed. They sent a great number of the bastards straight to hell.

Raping-child murdering bastards! Each and every one of them that they’d killed deserved it. It was bullshit to believe that the person’s environment helped charted a destiny. “I live in a real shitty neighborhood man, that’s why I raped and killed that woman.”

Good and decent people can come from really bad neighborhoods and a shitheads can come from the rich side of town.

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The neighborhood has nothing to do with it. Bullshit! You did that crap because you’re a fuckin’ low-life. He and his team all came from the same neighborhood, the really crummy neighborhoods were always stereotyped as the place where creeps and shitheads were born and bred.

They’d come from such a neighborhood, but had never been in trouble with the law. They just didn’t have a ton of money.

Not even one of them had even had so much as even a traffic ticket. They’d worked hard all their lives, and strived for the Great American Dream.

Now their friends and families were dead, killed by the punks and strangely dressed men in black. He’d personally seen a little old woman shoot a creep point blank in the chest. Then saw a man in black take her head off with a shotgun.

One of his team members chopped the man to bloody bits with a machete, as he cried for his grandmother.

Bloody Goddamn Bastards!

That seemed to change Rockne Walker, the very large warehouse worker. Rockne had also had his own dream. He’d trained everyday once he’d realized his dream, he wanted to be the heavy weight boxing champ of the world.

Then his parents died in that fire and somebody had to look after his grandmother. Then this would happen and that would happen, something always got in the way of his dream. Then he was just too damn old.

But he loved kids and worked with them down at the youth center, he never once turned any kid away that wanted to train, nor did he ever neglect his sweet but very strict grandmother.

His dark eyes once danced with laughter and rascality, sadly now they were dark with hate and rage.

Then there was Zeke and Zack Muldroe, the two brothers that had came home from a double date, only to find that their entire family had been murdered by the black clad men. The brothers picked up their ball bats (the only weapons available

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at the time) and bashed the murderer’s heads in.

Two of the bastards were about to rape their ten year old sister. She was past the point of feeling anything, her head had been bashed in.

The cops were fairly certain they knew who the men were, but at the time they were totally powerless to do anything except take statements. It had truly sickened them to view such scenes like those at the Muldroe house.

It wouldn’t be long, and payment in full would be expected to be paid. The people of the neighborhood would come collecting.

Woya White had roamed the darkened streets, for several hours after three men dressed in black had ripped her clothes from her, and had tried to rape her. She’d slit the throat of one man and then managed to get her hands, on one of their guns and killed the other two men.

She was bruised, naked and was very disoriented when Leilani Spencer found her. Leilani had come home to find her husband and three year old son had been murdered.

Both had been shot in the back of the head, the woman had left her house in a blind rage, crying and out for blood, but at the time what she’d found was Woya.

Vengeance would be so sweet, vengeance would be swift and very final. For her man and her baby, she would kill every goddamn one of those bastards. Her man was a very good man, the very best...her baby, little Byron was only three years old.

Goddamn Them All To Hell!

Ranulf put his face in his big hands and wept.

That sinking feeling of impending failure, had returned and he just didn’t know what to do about it. He was the family screw up, the one that would make mistakes, all because he’d let his emotions rule his actions.

He knew that he’d make a very lousy cop, because he’d shoot some lowlife rather than arrest him. Many fail to see the problem with that, a cop is paid to protect and to serve. He shoots the bad guy, and quite suddenly all the problems are over and done with. Right?

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Wrong.

The lowlife deserves the same rights as anyone. Sad, but very true. A rapist can be caught in the act, but according to the law he has the right to a trial by a jury of his peers.

One hundred and fifty people can stand back and watch some bastard kill a

child. Why, that many people would just stand back and watch is beyond anybody with a brain. The point being is: that many people can see the crime, and then some scumbag attorney can still get the bastard off.

In some neighborhoods, a hundred and fifty people just standing around, would be called a mob. And mob law rules, in other words nobody saw or knows a goddamn thing. They take care of their own.

I saw the cab pull up and I slowly walked toward the sidewalk, there was something about the three silhouettes that was very familiar. The first person to get out was a very stocky man with very broad shoulders.

I took two more steps forward.

The second man was tall and even though dress in jeans and a tee-shirt he still looked very refined.

I felt my heart quicken. Joe and Sir Robert! Then I saw the familiar form of my sister. “Sara Ann!” I shouted as I ran toward the three people. I froze for a moment when I saw the second woman.

The first one to take hold of me was Joe, the boy had grown into a mountain in width. He took me in a bear hug and bounced me around. “What’s matter big brother don’t you say hi to me any more?”

“You’re too goddamn ugly to hug and kiss. Let me go, you’re breaking my fucking ribs!”

Joe laughed and let go, and I almost fell on my ass, Sir Robert had to grab hold of me to help steady me. “He did that by chopping trees, and clearing the land. Little dim-wit was moving boulders by hand.”

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Sara looked first at me, and then began to look around, as though looking for someone. “She’s not here. Things have gotten bad here Sis.” I looked again at the very beautiful younger woman.

“I’d heard that it had. But ...” she said with a shake of her head. “Why didn’t you get in touch with us?”

“You guys were safe, and that’s all that mattered. Besides I’d opened up this crap-shoot. I didn’t want to involve more people I loved than I actually had to.”

“We’re here now, and that’s all that matters,” Sir Robert said firmly. “family is what is important...honoring one’s family.”

There was something very different about him.

I took hold of one of the bags and we all walked to the house, that feeling of an impending fuck up was gone.

Sir Robert grinned, at me as I blew the dust off the bottle and poured us both a double shot of Jack. “I haven’t touched it since you guys left Sir Robert.” I said with a grin.

“Let’s get one thing cleared Dobs, can it on that, Sir Robert crap.” he smiled knowing the unasked question that was on my mind.

“Excuse me?”

“Sit down please and I’ll explain.”

“So, that fancified little fart has come back, I never did like him or any of the Macalister family.”

“Why? What did they ever do to you, to make you hate them so much?”

“They think they’re so much better.”

That statement went right over the heads of the men that were present. “I don’t understand, the Macalister’s be the first to show up when there’s trouble. They’ll be knee deep in shit and mud heping whoever needs hep. They be out there workin’ in the wind, sun, rain and snow, how can they think they better?”

“I’ll explain it so’s that even a moron can understand it: Their daughter

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married into royalty, they started looking down their noses even more. Heping Folks even more.”

“Maybe they didn’t want people to think what you’re thinkin, or maybe they didn’t want to loose sight of where they came from.”

“You see it’s morons like you, that I’m trying to get my point across to. They were looking down their noses at us, feeling sorry for us because their family was moving up.”

“That’s a damn lie!” the man shouted. “People listen to me. Stop and use your own minds. Long before their daughter ever married they were heping. After she

married, did they cause the change in the weather? I’m so sure that they suddenly had high connections.”

There was a low murmur among the crowd.

“Pete after that twister took the roof off your barn, they came and heped you didn’t they?”

“Yeah, they did.” the man replied.

“Tim after that bad storm, and your herd got scattered to hell and gone, who was the first to show up?”

“The Macalister’s.” the man said firmly.

“This man is so goddamn jealous that he can hardly see straight. If he’d not married his first cousin and produced such a hideous halfwit, Sir Robert might have looked twice at her.”

The crowd roared with laughter.

“The Macalister’s are not the enemy. Who is it that’s leading the rebellion? A Macalister. Trust me, use your own commonsense and just leave it alone.”

The Quest

Chapter Eleven

* * *

“So you actually gave it all up?” I asked, as the shock still circling in my mind. It was kind of a hard thing to grasp if you stop and think about it. Everything...

It wasn’t just that he’d told his father to got to hell. No sir. He gave the man directions, and what to kiss once he arrived.

“That was never me Dobs, we weren’t actually the heir to any of it. Maybe in some roundabout way we were kin, but way-way down the line. Besides having people kissing my ass, because of some title wasn’t right. I want respect because of what I stand for.” He finished his drink and smiled. “Now tell me of this rebellion you’ve started.”

I refreshed our drinks, and lit up a cigarette, I studied the glowing tip for a moment. Then I began.

The family was all here, and I was almost looking at it like it was going to all go in our favor. That we had a better than average chance of winning this thing. I wish that Joe had stuck around, I kinda wanted to hear his imput on what I was doing. Sometimes you need someone that really knows you to be the one to say: “What The Fuck were you thinking.” Or To Say: “Count me in too big brother.”

It’s called getting the straight facts no matter where they go. Facing up to the reality of how others may look at you and your actions. Just because you happen to think you're right don't make you you right.

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Joe Macalister brazenly walked into the bar and ordered a double shot of Jack. He smiled as he caught sight of the familiar faces of the Dempsey’s. They’d always considered themselves to be the tough guys on the block, and went out of their way to prove it.

They were just bullies and everybody knew it, they were the type to pick whichever side that could or would, offer the most power.

Right or wrong never being an issue.

“Macalister. We heard that you’d finally grown a set of balls and returned. But we never knew that you gone crazy, what are you doing in our bar?”

“Bar is owned by Bull,” Joe replied without turning around. “Not by slime like you.”

The silence in the bar became deafening, as several men left. But many others downed their drinks, and removed their coats, in their minds it was time to pick a side. The Dempsey’s had aligned themselves with the German, and promises were made and a few gifts exchanged. Gifts in the way of young girls.

Not a bad trade, help take out anyone with the name Macalister and you can write your own ticket. But of course the German, wasn’t even in town, some said he was directing things from an undisclosed location.

Those with any sense knew that the cowardly bastard was hiding, he was getting fucked over from at least three different fronts. Quite possibly four. He was attacking women and children, all in the name of his call to war.

But he was being hit back and he was now running scared.

The Dempsey’s stood up smiling, this was what they were paid for. Kick some ass, and then later fuck some ass. Payment in full.

The sound of chairs being pushed back was very audible.

Bull viewed the scene and for a moment started to make a call. “Fuck it.” he said bitterly, as he reached for the ball bat from under the bar. “It’s time.” The large man smiled boldly, as walked from behind the bar, and walked over to stand beside Joe. Several other men walked over and took their place beside the two men.

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The Dempsey’s froze for a moment, it wasn’t that they were scared. They were the Dempsey’s by god, and just their name was enough to make most grown men piss themselves. It was who had decided to join up with Macalister.

Men that they’d grown up with, men that they’d stomped ass with. Men that they'd committed extremely sick acts with, involving that Irish man’s sheep. But then again they were passed out and never actually saw them do anything.

Joe smiled, as he stepped forward and hit the older Dempsey, with a hard right sending the large man to the hardwood floor. “Let’s cut the chitchat and just fuck these assholes up.” he said with a faint smile.

He kicked the large man on the side of the head sending him into darkness. He turned and grabbed another Dempsey, and drove his fist into the man’s throat and as the man sank to his knees, Joe glared down at him.

The town knew that the Dempsey’s were into all sorts of sick perversions. As well as many other criminal acts, nothing had ever been proven, and the way things were, they probably never would be.

One memory had always stayed with Joe: He knew and his family knew it was the Dempsey’s but proving it was most tricky. Nobody had seemed interested in justice. “It’s just a dog Joe. You can always get another one.” was the reply from the law. “Let it go.”

“Let it go? Like Hell!”

Years ago he’d gone to that same bar, and boldly walked up and slammed a ball bat into the balls of the Dempsey boy. Several men had quickly jumped to their feet and grabbed the boy, a very pissed off eight year old boy.

Young Joe Macalister, smiled savagely as the boy lay on his side puking, he pointed a shaky finger at the Dempsey boy. “Someday soon, or maybe in later years, you can expect to die by my hands you cowardly SONOFABITCH!”

The boy had said it with such conviction that it caused a few men to cringe.

They each knew that someday the boy will try to make good on that promise.

The Dempsey’s had been ordered off the Macalister’s land the day before

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then had gone back and killed and skinned their dog, they’d hung the skin outside Joe’s bedroom window.

Joe’s lip curved up into a wolf like snarl. “Ain’t payback a bitch!” Joe asked as he savagely kicked, the man in the face knocking him back pinning his legs beneath him. The second oldest Dempsey son lay dying making all sorts of disgusting sounds.

The doors to the bar opened, and the people that entered could not believe the scene before them.“Federal Agents! Everybody Get On The Goddamn Floor!” a man shouted.

The bar fell into a loud silence, and nobody was doing as they were ordered. The men all defiantly stood their ground. This of course didn’t set well with the FEDS. The loud obnoxious sound of gas escaped from Dempsey.

“Do you people have a hearing problem? I said to get on the floor.”

“Actually you said: Everybody get on the goddamn floor, it would appear that none of us cared for your tone. Say pretty please, and maybe we’ll listen to you.” Joe said with a straight face.

A Dempsey laughed at the words. “For a Macalister he does have a bit of class.”

This from a man that years ago, had skinned a dog and hung it outside a little boy’s bedroom window.

“Macalister? You any kin to Dobs Macalister?”

“He’s my brother.”

“You and I’ll talk in a moment.” the man said as he looked at the bodies.

The agent calmly walked over, and looked down at the body of Kit Dempsey. He’d read the file on the Dempsey’s before even coming to town. They were trash, and the type not many people would miss.

They were bullies and cowards, truly sick motherfuckers. The very type that would always choose the wrong side of the war to fight for. One of the so-called bad ass uncles had been sent to San Quentin, for the rape and murder of a young

The Quest CH.11/PG.96 mother. Upon his arrival he’d walked up to an inmate and told the medium size man, that he was going to be his bitch. That he was going to wash

his socks, his shit stank underwear, and suck him whenever the mood struck him.

He put his hands on the man’s shoulders and forced him to his knees. “You can suck or be fucked.” Dempsey said as he pulled his penis from his pants.

The man smiled as his hand went to his sock, he then whispered something very low as he pulled the blade from his sock.

“What was the sweetness? Can’t hear you with your mouth full.”

“I’d said. You BE FUCKED!” Then with lightening speed he then sliced and diced Dempsey’s privates into several very small pieces.

The guards and other prisoners all swore that they’d never heard anything. No cries, no pleas.

Price you pay dude. . .when you rape and kill. . . the price is paid in full, and on demand. Particularly, when your cell mate is your victim’s father.

That was the story of the Dempsey’s, they took and would always continue to take until somebody took them. On this day two more members of the family ceased to be a problem.

The FED smiled as he lit up a cigarette, and then offered the pack to Joe. “This can work to both our advantage, we wanted those two out of the picture anyway. My-uh my friends are talking with those left in the bar.”

“Why don’t you cut to the chase, you’re wanting to cut a deal. This was murder, and that’s the way it’ll be viewed-unless.”

“Highly intelligent, as well as a highly skilled fighter, you work with us, and I might be able to forget certain things. You scrub my back and I’ll...”

“Let me set this straight for you. You can expect all you want for a Macalister to scrub your back, all you’ll get from us is the request for you to kiss our ass. I’ll take my chances in court.”

The agent was clearly shocked. Just the thought of prison usually scared young men like, Joe Macalister into submission. The ones that had some spunk

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usually lost it, after a session behind closed doors, or a couple of days in a cell with certain types. “Don’t push your luck boy.” the agent warned.

Joe got nose to nose with him, “Be sure Not To Push Yours.” Joe replied in a cold tone.

The agent swallowed hard as he watched the extremely large young man walk away. Jeeze, when did he start sweating that badly, and since when did he get the trembles and shakes.

He refused to acknowledge the answer that was brewing in his mind. No-way in hell. Not no, but hell no. It could never ever happen. That was preposterous.

He was a highly trained experienced field agent, he had a gun and Macalister didn’t. He was trained in at least seven highly deadly forms of self-defense. “It must be someone dancing on my grave.” He reasoned.

No, it was very obvious, to even a moron what had happened. . . the highly trained experienced field agent had pissed himself.

It would have been hysterically funny, had it all not been so serious. The FEDS were actually looking, more and more like a pack of incompetent asses. They couldn’t even solve the problem brewing in Texas. What made them possibly think they could protect the nation?

The pinheads outside of Texas generally known as the press, insisted it was a group of radicals. Not a one had even bothered to come to Texas to investigate. Hearsay worked, and all other stories were quickly killed and had been lay to rest.

It seemed the other states, had all solved their problems and life had gone back to a degree of normalcy. Texas stood alone.

The Quest

Chapter Twelve

She was called “The Borzoi” Translation: Russian Wolfhound. She could speak several different languages and dialects, and was perhaps the most deadly agent extant.

If there was a certain type of person, that the government wanted stopped, and they didn’t much care how it was done, they’d called upon her services.

That list had become endless.

She had defected from Russia to the United States ten years ago. That would put her in the employment of that government agency at the age of sixteen. (Another Bastard Offspring)

“Put in a call to Borzoi.” The SAC told his secretary.

Adeline Garridan stilled the phone.

“Yes. I’ve heard of your problem, and No. I don’t think I want to involve myself in this one. You know that you can’t run that con on me any longer. The last time I was called upon, I made certain arrangements to ensure that. Yes, of course you had to try. Repeat that. ”

The last two words were repeated.

She smiled as she hung up the phone. I know what you’re going to attempt. I know the routine as well as you, but you’re going to fail. You’re going to find that task, a lot harder than you could ever have imagined. She thought silently. As well as painful.

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She went to the hall closet and got her bag. It was identical to the one that she carried when she went to work out at the YWCA, with the exceptions of the contents of course.

She knew the SOP and knew that somebody would be watching and tailing her. As soon as they saw her leave, somebody would enter her home and leave a few of their usual nasty surprises. She’d marked herself for termination.

She had certain rules in her profession, she didn’t take assignments where children, the elderly, or the disable, could be hurt or killed. But her first rule was: Never to be coerced into taking on an assignment.

The government was getting entirely too big and powerful, that was the key reason she’d retired. Now all fuckin’ bets were off.

Yes, most certainly, the US government was becoming a very large and ugly monster. Something that the Founding Fathers, would shudder at if they were to see. Many of the rules applying only to the population and not to those in power.

They’d create programs, that the American people would never approve of, then as technology would progress, their toys would become more expensive. Of course, the people would get taxed out the wazoo to pay for something they had no knowledge of.

But of course the people had been told, that it was of vital importance to study the mating habits of the killifish.

It said something about mosquitoes, and then something about the bite of a female mosquito causing illness or death. That this fish could be used in the control of the pesky insects.

Control? Oh-okay. . . whatever. Oh-Thank God, we’ve got Big Brother to watch over us. Yeah-right! Okay-so what bimbo needs an abortion now, or are we going to have to take care, of another little bastard for the next eighteen years? Shit! Just introduce the john to a goddamn rubber.

No-wonder dad, wanted me to grow up to be president, so much pussy and so little time. I’ll have be sure and send some his way.

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Certain groups, held very little concern for the average joe, and just wanted more and more money from the people. They're now wanting to know every intimate detail of a person’s life.

Of course if that person’s life didn’t fall into what They had felt was appropriate, they’d ruin that person either financially, or by publicly assaulting their reputation. Either way. . . the person was history.

In most people’s eyes, he was quite possibly the best president that America had ever had, and would ever have. Most is pure conjecture as to why he was to be killed. Maybe he had pissed off the mob, or maybe it was because of the trouble in Viet Nam.

There is the strong possibility that a request had been made by some government wheezier and he’d refused. Something that they were willing to kill over. Maybe he’d found some deep dark secret.

The possibilities were and are still endless.

Had the Borzoi, agreed to the assignment, she would have been asked to pull the trigger on that fateful day.

Asked yes.

Agreed to do.

Never.

She’d never formally met the president, yet, she deeply admired him, and had even requested six months earlier, to be on the team to protect him. They’d all laughed at the very thought of a woman protecting the Man.

“She’ll stumble on her high heels, and probably push him into the bullet.” one agent had said with a sarcastic bark.

“Go fuck yourself.” she muttered.

“I don’t believe I heard you, what was that?”

“I said, Go fuck yourself, or would you prefer Kiss my ass?”

“I’d love to baby among other places.”

Several agents had quickly left the room, if there were no witnesses, then

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what could be proven. Primrose was about to get a taste of the Russian shit-storm.

Agent Primrose was not a well liked man, he was a sexist as well as a racist. His time with the agency was growing short.

Very Short.

It was unclear as to what actually happened in that office that day. Primrose claimed, that she hit him with some object from the desk. That he never got off a punch. Lie number one.

She’d caught him off guard. Lie number two.

If that were true then why were her hands bruised, and why did she have a bruise on her cheek?

She’d offered her womanly assets to him, if he’d help her get on the team to protect the president. Lie number three.

The other agents had smiled, when they had learned that agent Primrose had left the office wearing his balls as earrings. The Borzoi had acted so quickly that no one had time to react. Her foot snaked out several times and the agent hit the floor in pain.

“Tell the truth, and I’ll tell how to stop the pain.” the Borzoi said in a cold tone.

Between the puking and the gasping, Primrose then told the truth as to what had happened. His words were: “My mouth overloaded my ass, and she called me on it.” She stood there with a smile of satisfaction on her lips, as he told the same story, that she’d told in private to the SAC.

The SAC smiled and shook his head.

“Okay, now stop his pain,” another agent said with a grimace. “that’s making me sick.”

She smiled and shook her head, “All I did was rack his balls, wait about another ten minutes and the pain should end. His tolerance of pain must be very low.”

“Then it was a trick, anybody, will say what you want to get the pain to

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stop. I insist that his statement be stricken from the record. It was given under the assumption, that she could make the pain go away.”

“Horseshit! She said she’d tell how to make the pain stop, which she did. Anybody with a brain would know that the pain, from a groin shot would end in a matter of time.”

The SAC knew that the woman would never stay, thing was she was their best

agent, and now she was about to be history. History being the keyword.

The order would come down for her to be terminated.

The fact that she was Russian was the key issue, there was trouble brewing in Russia and the fact that she was a defector clearly showed that she was not to be trusted.

Within the next few months three teams would be sent to kill her, they would be sent back in body bags. With a little help from her friends in the Company she would go underground, she would later save the life of a very important politician.

When asked what could be done for her she replied: ”Call off those goddamn hit teams, they’re not good enough, and I’m tired of killing those I’d once thought of as friends.”

The order was sent.

Adeline smiled coldly, as she set the last of the surprises, surprises that she was not suppose to have. But if one has the knowledge and the means anyone can build a very lethal bomb.

When you’re on the shit-list of certain groups you say: “Fuck the rules.” And then you do whatever it takes to survive.

Her home was in the country far away from people. She’d never wanted any innocent person to die in an attack against her. She’d made certain that her nearest neighbor was far enough away, so not to suffer any loss of life.

Her land was posted and surprisingly most people obeyed the posting, she’d planned for this day down to the letter. It truly was fool proof.

The Americans were total fools and fuck-ups. They’d trained her, and now she

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was going to use that training against them.

By the time it was all over the Borzoi, would finally cease to be. She would finally be free.

What was it Doctor king had said? Free at last, Free at last, Thank God Almighty Free At Last.

That speech will go down in history as one of the most famous speeches ever made. It can and should be a guideline and a dream for all people of all t he races. Maybe someday the people will see that we're all of one race: The human race.

She shook her head knowing that it will probably never be.

The Quest

Chapter Thirteen

I could not believe the number of people, that had gathered to answer the call for freedom. Sure we’d have to cull the herd some, I knew that some of these people were hardcore assholes.

Some were the type, that were just waiting for the opportunity to kill, to kill for whatever reason that may pop into their sick little minds.

My family was safe and that was all that mattered, Randy, had seen to that. . . but, Randy was acting so weird these days, almost as though something weighed heavy on his mind.

He would stay in his quarters usually with the radio on, but not really ever listening. Like I said, he was acting very weird, my thoughts of course were that it must be the weight of leadership, I had placed on him.

But then I quickly nixed that thought, Randy wasn’t the type to give into pressure. Entirely, too damn tough and strong-willed.

I was sitting in my quarters, when I got hit with the news that any leader hated to hear. There was a traitor. Caught in the act, of contacting the FEDS.

Security would be bringing him in, the man had put three of our men down, and the backup team, had to hit him pretty hard to subdue him.

To anyone else it would have been obvious who was being brought in. Which shows once again, that I had a lot to learn. The four man security team, brought in

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the large black man, and roughly shoved him into a seat. “Randy.”

“It’s your own damn fault Dobs, you trust entirely too much.”

“Cut the tough act Randy, I know you too well, let me save your life.”

Randy looked at the security team then back to me. “Send them away, and I’ll talk to you.”

I motioned with my head, and team left the room. I then took the only other key to the cuffs from my belt, and removed the handcuffs. “You want a drink?”

“You see what I mean Dobs? Do you? I betray you and you remove my restraints and offer me a drink. I’m a federal agent.”

“I see. What have you told them about us?”

Silence.

“Randy what have you told them?” I asked again patiently.

“Nothing. I’ve only told them enough, just for them to keep me here. In fact I’ve pretty much only collaborated, what they already knew and suspected.”

I poured us both a drink, and gave Randy his. “Which is?”

“That your group is basically harmless. In other words: No real threat to the government or the nation, Dobs this is big. There are groups popping up all over. Groups that if not stopped could cause unspeakable harm to our nation.”

“So you were sent in here, only to assess the situation.”

“Yes.”

“What kind of damage, did you do to the security team?”

“They’ll have a few bruises, maybe a few will have headaches. But I didn’t use any death tricks, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I nodded my head. “If I don’t do something about this, then what respect I do have would be right out the window. Forgive me old friend, but until I know that you can be trusted. . . you’ll be placed under arrest, and held in the old jailhouse.”

“You’d be a fool not to Dobs, you’re doing the right thing.”

God how I hated the role of leader, I truly fucking hated it.

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* * *

Kendall Wolfe stood on the porch of his parent’s house wondering just where the hell everybody could be. They were suppose to be here waiting for him. He checked his watch for about the fourth time in a ten minute span.

He saw the neighbor Emily across the street pull into their drive, and he quickly averted his eyes. He’d had his chance with her and now she’d never look his way twice. She now had a kid, and he sure as hell didn’t need a ready-made family, he’d played that game before and lost.

No. He didn’t actually loose, he was still alive. That had been that bitch’s goal in the first damn place. . . to see him dead. She was a psychotic bitch that had randomly picked him out of the phone book.

He shook away the old memories, she was now dead. Dead because he’d killed her. The physical scars had healed. Forget about her man! The knife wound to his chest. You put a bullet in her fucking head. She’s dead! Let the dead stay fuckin’ dead.

“Kendall are you okay? You seemed to be a thousand miles away.”

He looked into the eyes of the young blonde and slowly smiled. “Yeah I was just thinking about something. You haven’t by any chance seen my family have you?”

“Not since this morning, you don’t live here anymore do you?”

“Uh-no. I don’t. I’ve got my own place across town, do you think your mother may have seen them leave?”

“Maybe. Why don’t you come over and we can ask her.”

Never look twice. . . huh-pal.

Kendall looked around, and slowly nodded his head, and then walked with the attractive blonde across the street.

He’d only spoken with her mothera few times since way back then, and that was only in passing. She’d married and he was pretty certain that her last name was something french.

“Mom, you remember Kendall.”

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“Yes, of course, have a seat Kendall.”

English accent. Something, he’d always liked about the lady.

“I just needed to ask if you saw when my parents left.”

The woman seemed deep in thought for a moment. “Oh-they left out of here quite early. I was surprised to see them with boxes of canned food and several jugs of water. They also had lots of guns.”

“Damn!” he muttered with a shake of his head. “It’s hit the fan.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asked.

“The town has fallen Em, surely you’ve kept up on current events.”

The young woman’s face paled. “I knew it was getting bad, but I never dreamed it was getting to this point. Mom we’ve got to get out of here, Where’s Farrell?”

“Out back playing.”

Emily rushed to the back door and hollered shrilly for her son. Moments later the young boy was inside the house, and Kendall noticed that the boy was covered in dust and sweat.

“Mom pack a few things we’re getting out of here.”

“No. I’m staying put.”

“I have no time to argue with you, Kendall, please tell her just how dangerous it’ll be for her to stay behind.”

“Ma’am, it would be very wise for you to leave, the looters and other versions of crap-heads are sure to surface.”

“My husband will come here, and if he doesn’t find me. . .”

“Mom he’s going to expect for you, to do what it takes to survive. That means leave and go with us.”

Us? Which us?

“Kendall can you carry her?”

“Yeah, I suppose I can, where do you want me to carry her?”

Emily looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. Which her mom had already done, her husband had been gone for years. She’d just never accepted it. “To your

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truck of course.”

“Ah-yes . . . good plan,” Kendall replied sarcastically. “and just where am I to take you?” He asked as he felt the jaws of the trap trying to close.

“Wherever it is you’re going, I know all about you Kendall you’re a survivor. I’m sure that you’ve already made a plan.”

“Yeah, but it sure as hell don’t involve you.”

“You’re not the type to go off and leave anyone behind, it may seem that I’ve forgotten about you, but I know all that there is to know. I know that you’re still a fighter. . . I know more about you than you think. Now will you please take us with you. . . will you please help us to survive?”

To say please had to be the hardest thing for the young woman to ever say. She was very spoiled, and was used to always getting her way. She was use to her female favors always getting her all that she wanted.

Kendall slowly smiled. “Yeah. . . I’ll take you with me.” he replied softly. The entire time thinking that he was a damn fool. Another time he’d have taken full advantage of the attention being thrown at him. Shit maybe he was getting soft.

“Here’s the rules: I say jump you jump. Don’t ask any asinine questions, you just do what I say, when I say, and we all might come though this alive.”

“Agreed.”

Farrell took that time to speak up. “Kendall if you’re in love with my mother then why are you being so mean to her?”

“What makes you think that I’m. . . in love with your mother?”

“A person would have to be blind not to see that you are, but even then, a blind person would be able to sense it.”

The older woman suddenly entered the room with a small bag, and Kendall and Emily both wondered when she’d left the room. “What are we talking about now?” she asked matter of factly.

“The fact that Kendall is in love with my Mom.”

“He finally told her huh. . . well it’s about bloody time.”

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Kendall became aware of Emily’s eyes upon him, “We need to head out now!” he said in a firm voice.

Em smiled secretly as her mind took her back ten years ago. Their families were friends, and they enjoyed the company of the other. They shared the same beliefs that if-when America, ever fell, then it would be best to be in a group of like-minded people.

To be with people that had knowledge of survival, and little regard for those that did not follow the simple rules of life.

They’d have their parties out in the country, and enjoy good ole fashioned picnics. Okay, so on that particular day they should have paid closer attention to the weather. It was cold and the sky didn’t look all that pleasant.

But they figured if they did get snowed in they’d be pretty well set. They had plenty of food stored and they were going to have the stew. Mulligan stew some beer, and maybe some cheap wine. Nobody was going to be driving home that night anyway, so if somebody were to get schnockered nobody would have a wreck. It was up to her to get Kendall and take him out to the party site. His birthday wasn’t until Sunday, so this was to be quite a surprise for him. She picked him up from work, and waited while he showered and changed clothes.

Using his words: “I smell beyond ripe.”

They got into the car and made two stops, Kendall bought a bottle of Jack Daniels. Then they went and bought some Barb-Que and some southern fried chicken from everybody’s favorite eatin’ place. “UNDERWOODS.” That was the only place in town, that could put everybody to shame.

The weather wasn’t too bad at first, but about six miles out it turned into an ice storm. Em pulled over not wanting to risk going any further, both had agreed that it would be wiser to just go back to town.

They pulled over to wait until the storm broke.

Em started to cry, and with Kendall being a man, he honestly didn’t know if it was something he’d done, or if something else was actually wrong.

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He gently took her into his arms, “Hey kid calm down, it’s just a little ice storm.”

“Yeah, but this was sssuppose to be special, a surprise birthday weekend for you. That’s why every–bbbody is out waiting for us.”

Kendall smiled. Leave it to his family to plan such an event, okay they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. If the weather broke and they could get home, he’d call a buddy of his and borrow his truck and he’d get them out there.

He continued to hold Em in his arms, crying women always made him uneasy, he never knew what to say, or what to do.

“JJJerry wasn’t happy with me being ttthe one to come after you, he tthinks you’re after mme.”

“Makes sense,” Kendall said with a smile. “you’re a very pretty girl.”

The car missed a couple of times and then died.

Em shook her head and quickly pulled away. “No-no-no! Don’t do this to me!” she shouted as she tried to start the car.

Nothing.

“It’s fucking dead! Kendall, the goddamn car is dead! How are we going to get out of here!”

“First things first: you need to calm down.” Kendall replied gently as he looked in the backseat. “Okay we have blankets, and we have food. We’re not in that bad of shape.” he said not real sure of exactly where they were, but he knew that he needed to calm the girl.

“What if somebody crashes into us because of the ice? We’re going to fucking die!”

“No, we’re not going to die. There’s a shack right over there, we gather what we can and we leave a note in the car. Somebody will come looking for us, find the car and the note and then find us.”

Em smiled knowing that as long as she was with Kendall Wolfe, she was going to be safe. Kendall wrote a quick note and then they gathered up the food and

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blankets and the bottle of whiskey and left the car.

Kendall tried the door, it was either locked or stuck.

He used his shoulder to force it open, and got Em inside and quickly shut the door. He used his lighter and found a sting to a light and gently gave it a tug. The small shack was suddenly filled with light.

In one corner was an old fashion heating stove, and in another was a large supply of mesquite logs. There was a small twin bed, that had a mattress that had definitely seen better days.

“We get a fire going and we can be set nice and cozy, until somebody comes for us.” Kendall said with a hopeful grin.

He checked the stove and found a rat’s nest inside, and after making sure that the valves were all open he got the fire going.

“You think somebody else ever uses this place, somebody that may not like us being here?” Em asked.

“They’ll only complain once.” Kendall replied as he pulled the pistol from beneath his coat.

“Should have known you’d be armed, your family never goes out there without a gun. . . even in the winter.”

Kendall flipped the mattress and found the other side to be in even worse shape. “Looks like it’s the floor for both of us.”

Em smiled, chivalrous to the end. “Wouldn’t it be better if we combine our body heat to stay warm?”

“Mesquite burns hotter than any other wood I know of anyway, this shack is small and shouldn’t take much to heat. No, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Kendall never noticed the look on the young woman’s beautiful face.

They heated the chicken on the stove and drank Dr Peppers. Kendall preferred Pepsi or at least a Coke. Dr. pepper tasted like carbonated prune juice to him. But hey when that's all there is to drink you either drink it or do without.

Hey it didn't taste too bad with a triple shot of JACK.

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Neither had any idea of the temper, that was brewing back at the family camp site. “He’s taking advantage of the situation, they got stuck somewhere and they’re...” Jerry’s face flushed and he quickly left out of the room and went back to the restroom.

“That man has some serious problems.” James Wolfe replied.

“What do you mean?”

“He starts bitching about them being alone, and then heads for the can. I need not tell you what he does in there.”

“Forgive me for being ignorant, but what does he do?” Starla Jennings asked feeling a bit foolish.

Jenny Wolfe rolled her eyes and whispered in the woman’s ear.

“That’s Disgusting!” Starla almost shouted the words.

“One weekend he got picked up for being drunk, and the boys probably would have just taken him home. But he began to talk crazy, so they took him to the city’s bailiwick. They were forced to observe him as he-uh-masturbated.”

Starla felt a sick feeling begin to grow in her stomach. This was the man her daughter was involved with. If he was a mental. . . “why did they watch Sarge?”

“Anytime a prisoner behaves in such a manner, he’s isolated from the other prisoners and observed. They’ve seen everything from masturbation to a few eating their own feces.”

Starla grimaced. “So he’s a fucking wacko.”

“That’s a gross understatement.” Jenny replied simply.

The Quest

Chapter Fourteen

Kendall knew that the young woman was scared, hell he was scared too. He was just better at hiding it. Anything could happen, they could be stuck there for days. Judging by the sounds of the weather it was turning into a bitch of a storm.

They were in pretty good shape, and even if they couldn’t leave and they needed food, he could get that. Water was no problem, they could melt snow and ice.

He’d plugged most of the holes, in the wall with clumps of the mattress. The thing that worried him was: he had a limited amount of ammo. If they were to need it beyond hunting for food, there might be a problem.

He smiled, “If you’ll make our pallets, I’ll go out and answer mother nature’s call.”

He couldn’t understood the smile she gave him as he left the shack. The weather was getting worse, and it seemed to him that the falling ice was actually being thrown by a large angry child.

He quickly did his business and got back to the shack, he entered and found Em gone. Moments, later she too came back in. “I figured I’d better go too.”

“In the future, let me know, you could have got turned around out there. Hell I almost did.”

Em gave a soft laugh. “I saw you almost fall, it’s very slick out there.”

Kendall couldn’t even recall almost falling, but it really wasn’t all that

important. He figured it was some game she was wanting to play.

“You really made the ice-chips fly off that tree.”

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Kendall felt his face grow hot, and he quickly avoided looking into her eyes. Jesus. Just how close was she? Why didn’t he sense someone that close by while he was out there?

Simple answer.

It was too goddamn cold to worry about that at the time.

She smiled up at him as she pulled the blanket back to the one and only pallet. “Kendall,” She slipped out of her clothing and knelt down and patted the bedding. “You don’t really want to sleep alone do you?” she asked her voice thick with passion.

What? Is this a trick question?

She was beautiful, her body perfectly flawless...

He smiled as he went to her.

“It’s just somebody that needed to get out of the storm. I saw a car slide off the road before I turned off. I’m sure that’s all it is. I can’t even see worth a shit out there now, so how could they see the house?”

“Who knows what they’re doing out there.” the woman persisted.

“If they’re smart they’re getting warm, they should be okay, I haven’t used that stove in a couple years, but it worked fine then.” the man replied growing very tired of the prudish ways of his very large wife. Twenty years ago...whoa-Baby! Today. . . well shit!

“What if they’re having premarital sex? This land is called the Lord’s Will. We do as He wants it done.”

“Woman I’m not about to go down there in this shit storm, and ask to see a goddamn marriage license. If you’re so fucking worried then go down there yourself. Some folks needed to get out of the storm, and we’re letting them have the use of our shed. It is the Christian thing for us to do, and we’re doing it. So either go down and check things out for yourself, or shut the fuck up about it.”

“You never talked to me like that.” the woman replied her eyes wide with

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shock.

“I am now. I’m so damn sick of you constantly talking of The Lord’s Will and your fucking rules.” the man snapped.

The rule was: No foreplay, no stimulation, for either party. Just get on then get off. What a goddamn bore.

She took a long quivering breath, as she was suddenly filled with burning sexual excitement. “Well here’s a new rule: Take me to your bed and do thy will.

He shrugged his shoulders. What the hell man, beats whacking off in the shower. That shit got old and very fucking boring too man.

The young couple was stranded for three days, and in those three days they fell in love. Actually the love was already there, they’d just always found an excuse to ignore their feelings.

Both had been burned, and they both had began to safeguard their hearts with great care. It was always much safer to date some looser, to just go with the next obvious doomed relationship.

After the ice storm came the snow. They still felt that someone would surely come for them. The car was sure to be bogged down. And even if they were to make it to the car, it was still a dead issue.

Both were more than just a little red faced, when the weather finally broke, and they found that they were only a hundred yards, from some rancher’s house.

They decided to risk trying to get back to the highway. By now the roads would be being traveled and maybe they could catch a ride into town. Besides the rancher may not like the fact that they’d used his shack.

They were found by the family as they were returning, both were evasive when asked, where they’d stayed during the storm. They’d become even more so, when asked what they did to pass the time, and what they’d done to keep warm.

Of course Jerry just wouldn’t let it go. “If he made you do anything that you didn’t want to do, it’s considered as rape.”

“Nothing like that happened Jerry.” Em replied with a shake of her head.

The Quest CH.14/PG.116 “Baby I’ll understand if he got you drunk, and then took advantage.” Em tried to hide her smile, but failed miserably. “You and he fucked it was not lovemaking.”

“Watch your mouth Jerry.” Kendall warned.

“At least we know how they stayed warm.” James, whispered to his wife.

“Don’t talk ugly.” his wife warned with a smile.

“Pull this fucking van over right now!” Jerry ordered. “I’m going to kick his goddamn ass.”

The senior Wolfe smiled as he pulled the van over. “You’re gonna try boy, but you’ll fail royally, Do yourself a favor and faint now, and save yourself some real pain not to mention the humiliation.”

Jerry was a bigger fool, than anyone gave him credit for. He began by screaming in Kendall’s face. Calling him a low-life, and a sorry ass son-of-a-bitch.

Very stupid thing to say and do.

Kendall yawned. “Could you speed this up, the past three days with Em, have about done me in.”

Jerry then made the biggest mistake he ever could’ve made. He screamed his rage and slapped Kendall across the face. Very big mistake. Kendall probably would have just toyed with him maybe scare him into a sense of sanity. But now. . .

Now all bets were off.

Kendall quickly lost his usual amused look.

Em refused to watch, she knew that Jerry had it coming. . . but she just couldn’t watch Kendall pound the man. She clearly heard the sound of a fist striking flesh followed by a grunt of pain.

The fight was over just like that, Kendall walked over to the van and retook his seat beside her. Jerry wasn’t moving, she watched the still form for a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief when the man slowly got to his feet.

He walked over to the van and got in. “It’s over, you can have her. I could give a shit, but I don’t. When we get to town though, I’m pressing charges against

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you for assault.”

That was all the senior Wolfe needed to hear. He pulled over and calmly got out of the van and went to the other side. He opened the door and jerked the man out of the seat. “You can walk to town then. You issued the challenge and got your ass whipped boy. Now, you’re talking more garbage. Start walking shithead.”

That was the beginning of the end of the friendship, in Starla’s eyes both

acts were barbaric. Jerry had problems and did not deserve to be treated the way he’d been. Okay. So maybe the friendship wouldn’t end completely. . . but it would never be like it was before. If she had any say at all, Em would also stop seeing Kendall. He may be a good boy, but he’d goaded poor Jerry with that one remark.

Yeah, the get together days were to be no-more. “Perhaps Farrell should be told.” Emily whispered softly.

She felt a light tug at her arm, and she shook away the old memories. She felt the warmth spread up into her face. “Mom, what did you mean by perhaps I should be told?” Farrell whispered.

Kendall cautiously glanced over at the woman, there was always the suspicion of some big secret being kept from him. All those years ago, Emily had suddenly decided to not ever see him again, and shortly there after he’d gone on to those other things.

Things that even his parents were never privy to, he knew that his father had his suspicions. He was always the rebel and would in all likelihood die a rebel’s death. By way of an old friend James had became aware, that his son had left the country. It had also been made known that Kendall had gone to work as a merc.

Judging by the scars on his chest and back, the story of him being injured had not been exaggerated. From what he did know Kendall had killed twenty-five men in a forty-eight hour span, in order to rescue seven members of his team.

His contact had told him, the things Kendall had done during that forty-eight hours. It still sent ice shivers down his spine. Things that normal men, would never have thought of their child ever doing to another human being.

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He knew that one of the female members of the team had been raped. Kendall had caught up with the bastard, and had used piano wire to castrate the him.

He’d then taken the severed penis, and stuffed it down the rapist’s throat and stitched his mouth closed with the same wire.

He’d broken one man’s back, and crucified him upside down exactly six inches over a slow burning fire. The man could do nothing but scream, until the pain peacefully took him.

He slit throats, and gut shot a few, and had used a machete on several. To confirm each kill he’d take the right forefinger. The worst of all things done, he left the bodies for the beasts.

The one man that betrayed them deserved a death befitting a traitor. Kendall had known that he was acting on his own, but his team had been taken and the traitor had left him for dead.

Their own leader had set them up, and it was up to him to take him down. The man was running scared, and he knew that it was Kendall that was stalking him. Expertly stalking him and leaving nothing but a trail of dead bodies.

Soon another would join the list of the dead.

Kendall had the never quit mentality.

Those that had done the recruiting were getting very nervous. Kendall (The RabidWolf) was working on a personal agenda. Revenge. They needed to know exactly who was involved and just how deep the betrayal went.

His team had been betrayed, and he was acting on pure rage. He was a good man, but he still needed to learn, to not to act on his more basic emotions.

If he lasted that long.

If they couldn’t stop him, then they just may have to send someone in to cancel him. They needed information, not confirmation of dead traitors.

They were doing some serious house cleaning, it was a slow process, but it was still very effective. The transformation was just about complete.

The contact had told him that Kendall had come very close to being taken out.

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A special agent was able to get to his son, and stop him before he made the final kill.

Actually, it did take a lot of restraint for both men, not to take the rogue bastard out. But considering what was actually at stake they did restrain themselves. Lots of restraint.

His emotions were jumbled, a mixture of pride and fear. His son was as loyal as any man could ever be. But Kendall had been born a hundred years too late. It was that trait that could get him killed.

His contact was an old friend that he’d grown up with and they were more like brothers than just mere friends. The man had known Kendall his entire life, and that had been his edge to getting through to him. He had also had a hard time digesting the things Kendall had done to the traitors.

It had been during one of these conversations that Em had overheard and learned of the life Kendall had chosen. She’d once had a heavy crush on his son, and this would only enticed her even more. Rekindle the old spark maybe.

What was it ten years ago? Yeah-exactly ten years ago that Kendall and Em, had been trapped in that old shack. It was obvious what had happened during those three days. He was certain that Farrell was nine fixing to be ten.

He shook his head, as the old argument tried to resurface. No way in hell, could the boy be Kendall’s son. Both had dark hair that would lighten if they spent too much time in the sun. Both had blue eyes that could turn to a steel blue, whenever they were angered. Coincidence! Spent three days together.

Like mother like daughter she too had married some french fucker saying that they were so-so much in love. But the bastard took to beating her and the boy, and it had been Farrell that put an end to that.

Rolled him up in a sheet and then beat him with a bat, broke both his arms and both his legs, knocked out half his teeth, and broke the man’s nose. He then called over to the house and told what he’d done. His mother was in the shower, he could still hear her crying. “Got tired of him hurting Mom, somebody had to stop

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it, so I did, so now you can come over and arrest me.”

If he hadn’t known the kid, he’d swear that it was a challenge being offered. The boy didn’t say, “I hurt him and he needs an ambulance.” The boy didn’t give a jack-shit about that. Same exact attitude as Kendall would have.

Can that be bred into a person? Is it possible for a child, to be born with the seed of contempt toward certain types of people?

He was expecting to see a slap mark or two on the young woman’s face. What he saw sickened him, the bastard had to have used his fist in order to mark her like that. Her right eye was swelled shut, and her beautiful face was bruised and swelled. He had to force himself to stay professional.

The boy sat holding the bat, and stood up when he saw the uniformed cops

approach him. “I suppose you’re here to take me in, I changed my mind. Nobody,is taking me anywhere except to the hospital to be with my Mom.”

“Son you need to put that bat down.” an officer said in an authoritative tone. Not noticing Sarge approaching them.

“I’m not your fuckin son!” Farrell snapped. “You can just kiss my white rebel ass.”

The officers looked at one another, but stood their ground. This was after all just a child, a child with a very foul mouth, and a very bad attitude. They could handle him easy.

“Guys back off stop being part of the problem. . . Farrell do you trust me? We’re friends right?” the older Wolfe said firmly.

“Yes,” to both questions.

“Okay, you’re making people very nervous holding that bat.”

“Just want them to know where they stand, or that if they try to take me in where they’ll fall. He. . . beat my mother with his goddamn fist. . . if these boys are so concerned about justice where were they when she needed help.” the tears begin to form in his young eyes.

“She was begging for someone. . . anyone to help her, I didn’t know she had

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the cops on the line at first. I picked up the phone and a voice said, You kids need to stop playing on the phone. . . stop playing on the phone.” he repeated the words softly.

The officers shifted their feet nervously, and avoided looking at the larger man. “Son you really need to drop that bat.” one said as he took a step forward.

“And you need to go fuck yourself.” Farrell muttered in a cold tone raising the bat up waist level.

The large man stepped, between the officers and the boy. “Get your asses to the station now! You touch that boy, and that fucking bat will become the least of your worries.”

The officers nodded their heads and backed off quite quickly. “The Dark-Wolf” as he was called was quite large, and had never minded too much if he had to color outside the lines.

Meaning if you fucked with him. . . your career can R.I.P. asshole.

The Quest

Chapter Fifteen

He shook away the old memories, as he heard the truck coming down the road. Yeah those genes can be passed down from father to son. Farrell had those genes, because he’d passed them to Kendall. So the chain continues, he’d been fooling himself all these years.

Farrell was his grandson, he was a good boy, smart and was on his way to being something pretty great. Just like his father. His son Kendall was a rebel, and wore that title like a badge of honor.

Kendall would pick a side, and stick to his choice, no matter what the cost. He would never leave anyone, behind without knowing the truth. He was dangerous when pushed, and if he were to ever go after a person, sooner or later that person was very dead-meat.

Kendall smiled, as he stepped down from his truck, father and son stood looking at one another. They were a team, partners if one wished to use that term, one would always had the other’s back.

But they also knew to trust the other, to use commonsense and save their own ass.

“Dad. I can safely say it has hit the fan.”

“Told you.” the older man said, with a grin and held out his hand, he quickly cut his eyes to Farrell.

Kendall gave a knowing smile and shook his father’s hand, “Okay, you were

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right.”

The older Wolfe looked at his hand and wiggled his fingers. “Uh-I believe you’ve forgotten something.”

“You gonna hold me to that! Come on Pop, that’s a lot of money.”

“Never knew you to welch on a bet.”

“Okay alright. Shit!” Kendall, said with a serious look on his face, as he pulled his billfold. “Never knew you to be so hard up for money.”

“Principal of the matter son.” the older man turning slightly and giving his son a wink. A gesture that was lost to the others. “Never bet more than you can afford to loose.”

“Is he going to do, what I think he is?” Em asked her mother.

“What is it you think he’s going to do?”

Em shook her head, and started to step forward, but stopped herself. Hell it was now time. Maybe-even an hour passed time. Farrell loved and respected Sarge, who better to tell him.

The older man walked over to Farrell and smiled down at the boy, he carefully unfolded the bill and removed a small medallion.

“This once belonged to my father, after he was killed it was given to me by my grandfather. The bill is the same bill, that my Dad, had it wrapped in. I gave it to Kendall, when he was just about your age to safeguard. Now I’m giving it to you.”

“Sarge. . . I appreciate the gesture but shouldn’t that go to Kendall’s son. . ?” The reality of his words hit him and he turned and looked at his mother.

She smiled through her tears and nodded.

The boy took the medallion and upon instinct kissed it, and carefully wrapped it back in the bill. He pulled his wallet and carefully placed it inside.

He and Kendall, had done the same thing when it had been given to them. Both men fought to repress the shudder that tried to rear up inside them. They both failed.

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The boy hugged the larger older man, and then went to his father. Kendall looked down avoiding the eyes of the boy, he was for the first time ashamed of his

acts. Things he’d left undone.

“You’re here now, that’s what matters to me.” the boy said softly as Kendall, knelt down and took the boy in his arms.

“I’ll make it right-I swear to it.” Kendall replied firmly.

Rob Macalister put down his binoculars and calmly rubbed his eyes, just some guy and his kid meeting for the first time maybe. Nothing to fear there, the valley was filling up, as more and more people were wanting out of the city.

It wasn’t really any safer in the country, it’d just take a bit longer for the after effects of the shit to hit you, once it hit the fan. Well the shit had hit the fan. It was over except for the splatter effect.

It wasn’t even a war in the regular sense, the state of Texas, was just doing some major house cleaning. Actually, it really was much more like, they were giving the state an enema.

The good people of Texas were just once again, letting it be known that they would always fight for their freedom.

Rob was fairly certain that those, up on that ridge were the Wolfe family. Good men, the type that when push comes to shove, you’ll find that the men, as well as their women-will make a stand.

If it really got bad, some of the families may actually have to band together. Many would be welcome at his place, but there was some that he’d probably shoot on sight. How could anyone pick this time to act on some racial bullshit?

It was really getting bad, many of the Black families were running away. Just leaving in the dead of night, with what they had on their backs, and whatever they could carry. It was either that or, have a band of rednecks come in the night and burn them out.

The law was of little help, the Black people barely had the right to breathe

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the same air as a White man. So what good, would it have been for them to call the law? Many of the cops were just as stupid and racial, as those the complaints would have been filed against.

The holdouts would certainly be welcome at his house, any man that believed in freedom, and was willing to fight for it, would always be welcome.

He’d never turn away a family with children, unless they practiced prejudice and hate. He’d find it hard to do, but he’d not have that kind of people in his home or around his family. Yeah-he was prejudice.

He was prejudice against those that would hate without just cause, or because of skin color, or a chosen religion. Those were the people that got under his skin, to hear them go on and on about it, was enough to make him want to pull his pistol and shoot every goddamn one of them.

The only thing that stopped him was. . . well-right now it was against the law. A law he was suppose to have sworn to uphold. Sometimes he really hated being a cop,

At times it was hard to know the good guys from the bad guys. Things are not always what they seem. A man may find it necessary to kill, and by all rights it may even be a clean shoot. But a jury may think otherwise.

Who in the fuck was the law protecting anyway?

Certainly not the good and decent people, he had a bad feeling, that it was only going to get worse in later years. He thought about the large Black man, that had brought June, to them. Reverend Baker? That man was as much a reverend, as he was a pacifist.

The last asshole that got in his face would strongly object to that. Just two more months, and then the bastard would be able to start eating solid foods again.

He should never have told him to go fuck himself, when he was told to leave his posted property. Actually that wasn’t what got his jaw jacked, he’d gotten too close to Rob, and had told him what he was going to do to him and his family.

None of it was really to Rob’s liking.

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Rob had never known, or suspected, that there was a darkness inside him until he broke that punk’s jaw.

He’d always taken such pride in the fact, that he played it straight. Many of the cops did, they weren’t all bully boys. They were to protect and to serve, that’s not to say that some didn’t abuse their power.

That’s when the FEDS would come in and check things out, and this Randy Baker was most definitely a FED.

He’d been around enough of them as a cop, that it had become second nature to spot them. But Baker wasn’t like any agent he’d ever met, Baker seemed to have-seemed to have a conscience.

That was very confusing, in order to be a good agent one had to be almost subhuman. Totally void of all human emotions, never know when you might have to kill a woman, or even destroy a house where there may be children. Ice-cold and evil.

He could never prove it, but he was certain that they’d killed one family, and to cover it up by having the house destroyed. It was just one of many government fuck ups, and they had to cover their asses.

The American people, could never know that they’d made a mistake and killed innocent people. He was one of the first officers to arrive, and he saw the bodies. He saw the three month old little girl with her head bashed in.

He went out to call in and to throw up, as soon as he was clear, the house blew up. Everything was fucking destroyed, the FEDS came in and conducted their investigation, and claimed they found nothing out of the ordinary. Probably a gas leak. How unfortunate for those poor people.

The baby probably died in the explosion, they claimed that they’d found a life-like doll with the head crushed.

Bullshit. He touched the child, he had her blood on his hands. He knows what a goddamn human body feels like, (a warm body) compared to some fucking plastic doll.

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The deaths of that family, was a very touchy subject with him. He knew that it was a conspiracy coverup on the part of the US government. But proving it was a difficult matter.

Two weeks to the day another house was hit. The strange thing was the similarities in the addresses. The first house was on Taylor street, and the second house was on Tyler. They both had the same street number.

The occupants of the second house were all killed by gunfire, they were a bunch of lowlifes, and Rob felt that they were the target to begin with. A mistake was made and then covered up, by destroying all the evidence of what they’d done.

When he got too close, he started having trouble with records of payments on the land he was buying. While he was getting that in order, his evidence was given to the FEDS so that they could conduct a much more through investigation.

Of course, all that got misplaced.

He got the other problems worked out, a temp had misfiled his payment records. “So sorry, for the inconvenience.” (Sucker)

He’d more or less expected something like that to happen, he trusted no one to be clean. He made copies of all the reports, and had them placed in box at the bank. But he strongly felt that he probably should back off. For the time being anyway.

Who knew what they’d do to keep it quiet, if they’d do that to a three month old baby, what was Killing a cop and his family to them?

This was all somehow tied in, with that deal his brother was into. He could feel it. But he’d be damned if he could figure it out.

The Quest

Chapter Sixteen

The agents sat in the cabin drinking coffee, and smoking cigarettes, the door opened, and the two agents entered the room. Cindy Larris and Dan Parker.

Dan grimaced at the small number of agents that were in the room seven. Seven men were all that had come in. Jesus. He knew it was bad, but he never thought it was this bad. The country was certainly in deep shit.

“Okay-people, it appears that you are it you all know why you’re here.”

“Dan is this just to revamp the Company, or is it also about that family that was killed six months ago?”

“Both.”

“We going to deal with them, the way we would any other scumbag, or is there going to be trials and all that liberal shit?” the same man asked.

“We’re known as the Cleaners Paul, not the goddamn Boy Scouts. What they did was so beyond sick, they’re no better than the rest of the trash. I could buy the possibility that a mistake was made, I mean Taylor and Tyler, and the street numbers being the same. But they weren’t suppose to go in and kill anyone that had been a direct order.”

“I know who crushed the baby’s skull,” Richard said softly. “and that son of a bitch is mine. I don’t want to hear no goddamn bullshit either.”

“Here’s the rules people, we all know who is dirty, you find them and you take them out. There’s to be no bodies found.”

“What about that other group?” a young man asked.

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“I’m not sure of your name son.”

“Daniel.”

“Daniel with any kind of luck. . . that other group will pick a side.”

“Pick a side sir?”

Dan smiled and lit up a cigar. “Yes. Pick a side, I have a feeling that this shit-storm, is nothing compared to what is coming our way. We’re going to need every advantage possible.” he smiled and blew the smoke upward. “Recruitment.”

That’s the way of the government, they recruit, they entice, and they even force a person to join their ranks. There are ways they can do this: They can threaten, promise excitement, adventure, or kidnap and subject a person to certain experiments they feel that they have perfected.

Of course in later years they’ll deny that there ever any such programs known as MK-ULTRA. Mind control. The very idea that they could take a normal person and with a word or phrase change them into a stone cold killer.

That’s comic book stuff, that’s how some writers make their living by writing such things. They’ll go on and on denying it, swearing that there is no such program. Maybe they think it doesn’t count if they had their fingers crossed.

When it comes to the government they know of no boundaries, if it’s to meet a goal then that's what they’ll do, and any and all innocent bystanders are just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Collateral Damage

But of course when they go about addressing the public, they raise their voices in outrage and swear that this outrage will not go unpunished.

Yes. The government, is a very perverted organization and they have zero compassion for the people. They just want to keep their power they stole by falsely representing themselves. They must remain powerful and in charge, how else can they keep their godlike powers to pick and choose who gets to live, or who has to die.

The government hates the writers of the world because they challenge the people to think, some encourage them to have free thoughts. They all must be stopped.

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* * *

Things are really getting sticky these days, I haven’t even had much time to write in this journal. I figured if the worst were to happen, at least my family would know where my thoughts were.

I do think about them a lot more, than I probably should. I should try to stay focused on the problems at hand, but more and more people just keep coming in. Some of them, I’d personally like nothing more, than to send packing.

Goddamn redneck racist assholes. If I knew I could get away with it, I would have shot them, and dropped them in a very deep fucking hole.

Work has taken sort of a backseat, I still draw a paycheck and the pay is damn good. In fact, I’m now drawing two hundred dollars more a week. I found out today that the boss is behind us one hundred percent, that there also never was any problems with equipment. We’re on the payroll as his personal army.

Told you I hadn’t had much time to write, for the past few weeks we’ve all been sort of laid off. But our wages have still been being paid.

Foreman said that the boss was pissed at himself for being so shortsighted and not seeing this coming. So until, the problem was fixed, we’d all still draw our wages.

One of the men came in about ten minutes ago, and told me what he’d learned. Our so-called boss is paying us fighting wages, he has put a bounty on a selected group of people. It would seem that they’d grabbed his daughter, during one of our campaigns, she was able to escape. Now all he wants of us is for us to fight, and we can continue to draw our wages.

Do I feel ashamed for taking money for such acts. . ? Not one damn bit. I’m taking care of my family, I send some to that bank we’d discussed and I keep putting money back. There are also places that we can go to if we’re hungry.

Places that are under orders to feed us, and to see to our needs, one of the men got hurt. . . hurt bad. Luckily he made it to one of the safe houses and some young Italian lady took care of him.

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Her husband had been killed, by a group of men claiming to be government agents. I guess that's highly possible, there are agents everywhere. Some of these assholes I wouldn’t trust any further than I can spit, and since, I never took up the disgusting habit of chewing. . .

What’s so damn confusing is, these guys know who we are, but they’re not arresting us. Baby, it’s almost as if, this is what they want us to do.

I’m getting one of them bad feelings. . . you know the one I’m talking of. We’re either being set up, or we're being used for some sick purpose, and I feel powerless to stop it. Am I even suppose to stop it? People are dying, good people.

People we used to run around with, I’m pretty tired. Before I go, I may as well tell you: Marty Simms, was killed today, he died most bravely, and with honor and gave his life most honorably, saving kids-Goodnight baby.

I felt like such a shit, yeah, I was still fighting a no name war. Everything I’d written in my journal was the truth, the truth as far as I took it. Fate is as strange as a man’s passion.

I was the injured man, that had made it to the house of the woman. Yes, her husband had been killed. A woman (A girl) I’d met so many years ago. At first I had no idea who she was. But soon. . .

You’d be surprised at what you can do to a person, to try and break them. A civilized person just don’t think of such sick acts. Things like using a hot pair of pliers, to rip out a person’s fingernails, or breaking fingers and toes with that pair of pliers. Or. . . how about breaking an ankle or a wrist with a pipe wrench.

Either her man really didn’t know anything, or he was one very tough bastard. He never told them anything, he’d made his wife hide in the little crawlspace in one of the closets.

He knew that they’d either kill him straight out, or they’d torture him to death. But they’d rape her and make her pain last for days. She really was a very beautiful woman, and her spirit was as strong as she was beautiful. Men like this,

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would preform acts upon her, and make her do things just to break her.

But they never did find her.

They hung her husband in the barn after they’d whipped him, they then torched the barn with him and the barn animals trapped inside. Some of the other men tore the house apart, looking for anything that they could use.

Then all sounds went silent.

She’d stayed in the crawlspace two extra days, wondering why her husband had not come for her. They’d put jugs of water in the crawlspace, planning for the what-if day. That was all she had for those days in that crawlspace.

In her heart she knew that her husband had to be dead. He would have come for her, her mind was just refusing to acknowledge that possibility.

In the late afternoon of the second day she finally came out knowing that she needed to know about the fate of her husband. That and the fact that she desperately needed a shower, two days and no restroom. . . you figure it out.

She’d known all along that there had been a fire, she’d been able to smell the harsh aftermath of it through the air vent. Thank God, the vents had been hidden by some brush, or they might have investigated and found her.

She found what was left of her husband, and sat down in the yard and cried for him. Cried for his courage, in protecting her, for the children they’d never have, for the life they’d never have.

They’d never even had a honeymoon, his job had pulled him away on their wedding day. She’d never understood why he didn’t tell them to go to hell, that he’d just gotten married.

Instead he packed a small suitcase, and picked up a small bag that he kept in a hidden panel of the hall closet. He paused at the door, “I promise this is the last one baby, after this. . . I’m a farmer. They kinda got me by the short hairs. I gave my word, and it was the only way I could retire.”

She’d really not wanted to, but she understood why he needed to leave. Why he had to leave. All he’d said about his employers was: “No sane man would want them.”

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The day he returned was the day he was killed, he had been gone for over a month without so much as a phone call. . .

Murdered the same fucking day he returned.

She went about her place armed, she wasn’t going to hide again ever, anybody that came there with evil intent, she’d just bury the fuckers in Specters Valley.

The first decent man to come to the farm, if he’d have her she’d leave with. Who’d ever thought it would be me? My wound was bad but not quite as bad as I’d first stated. I was shot in the upper right shoulder, it was five to one and I got four. Not too bad of odds I guess. I’ve had better, and certainly had worse. That last asshole just lost the stomach for the fight and ran.

I showed up at her place, and as soon as she saw me, she knew who I was. She smiled as she approached me. “My name is Ann, Mr. Macalister.”

At first I figured that she’d seen me in town, but at the same time there was something very familiar about her. “Call me Dobs.”

She was very pretty, long black hair, and dark eyes. Have you ever noticed that every person has a certain scent? Some scents are strong and some are just barely noticeable.

Her scent was even familiar. . . very alluring.

She smiled at me as she cleaned and dressed my wound. “You don’t remember me do you?”

“I have to be honest,” I said with a smile. “I’m trying to remember where I know you from.”

She gave her best pouty look, which made her even more sexy. “I’ll try not to be too offended,” she paused knowing that it was driving me crazy. “Dobs, we met at a retreat in the country. . .”

My mouth must have fallen open, because she smiled as she gently pushed my chin up. “Shit.” I whispered.

“I’ll try not to take that personally.”

“Uh-no! I mean you’ve changed, I always knew that you’d be a very beautiful

The Quest CH.16/PG.134 “Wasn’t I at least pretty back then?” she asked with a smile.

“You’re kidding me right? You were the prettiest girl at the retreat.”

“Do you remember what happened?” her eyes dancing with a wild mischief.

“How could I forget, you’re the reason I-we got sent home, who’d thought that they’d really enforce that bullshit rule?”

Oops I think I speak too much I did wrong but it felt very right.

“Well, you know why.” she said hoping that her plan didn’t backfire, she just wanted to be out of there. She knew that Dobs really was a good man, a really damn good man. He was into that honor crap.

Okay maybe honor wasn’t all crap, it’s just that the man used to reek, of always doing what was honorable. Always standing by a friend no matter what, never, leaving a friend behind. He’d even made a friend by going into a shit-storm. What was so amazing was no one had made a move to stop the fight, those that were in charge just stood back, and watched as he beat the older kid senseless.

In this case she’d just use her womanly persuasions to get him to take her with him. Charm him, feed him, and seduce him, anything. Whatever it takes, give him plenty of free pussy, until he gets you to safety, is a very small price to pay. She never thought of just asking him to please help her.

Just doing what the Bible, said to do: Trying to do some of that begettin’. But best be forgettin’ about too much beggin’.

“Neither of us did much of that,” she said softly as she ran a hand over my chest. Her fingertips pausing on an old wound. “You always were the warrior.”

She’d bewitched me years ago just as she was doing now.

I could feel the heat of my body rise a few degrees, the raging hot burning in my loins, as I turned to look into the face of my old love. I smiled as I picked her up into my arms, and carried her into the house and into her bedroom.

Suddenly it was as if I were fourteen again, and the woman that I was undressing was sixteen. It was hard to tell where one kiss ended and the next began. She cried out softly, as she pulled herself onto his hardness. Her mind went

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wild.

The laws of morals and right held no meaning for either of them.

She felt the first orgasm rip through her, and she cried out and bit deep into his shoulder. Dobs belonged to her, they were meant to be.

He fought like a savage, those words seemed to echo in her mind. He’ll be one of the chosen, he has what it takes. We’ll give him the girl to be his. The words echoed again.

Nice reward. She’s a virgin.

She could recall being naked and strapped down on a table, and a woman touching her inside with a metal stick. Though her mind was fuzzy, and she could see Dobs on another table beside her.

They’d given them some kind of a shot, the thought came to her, but she couldn’t make her mouth work. She could almost place the aftertaste that the shot had left in her mouth.

They were cleaned up and dressed, they left the strange room and rode in the elevator going up. The air in the elevator seemed to helped to clear their heads. They were given a small paper cup of orange juice as they were going out the door. The strange buzzing in her head slowly stopped.

Sweet Mary, how long does this man last? She asked herself, she’d lost track of the orgasms she’s had.

They’d walked away holding hands and went into the woods, nobody had made a move to stop them. Other kids were either kissing and fondling, or making love in the open.

The experiment was a success, if you stimulated a certain part of the brain, you could control the selected person. Right now, it was just safe and harmless sex. The girls were given a shot, to avoid pregnancy.

She felt Dobs climax. Then for a very long moment, he lay shuddering on top of her. The same thing had happened back in the woods, her breathing came in shudder gasps. She knew what was to be. . . he then began again.

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In the woods they’d kissed and fondled, he Kissed and suckled her breasts, and then just worked his way down. She’d never experienced such pleasures as those he’d given her.

She cried out in passion as the orgasm took her she was his and only his. You’ll never fully give yourself to anyone was the final command.

She cried out as he took her in the woods, and she left her nail marks on his back. She belonged to Dobs, and he belonged to her, they were meant to be forever. That was their promise.

The experiment was a success.

That was their goal to find out just how far they could take it. They turned a boy into a fighter with greater skills than normal and bounded two people forever.

The Quest

Chapter Seventeen

“Where the hell can he be?” the young man asked, his voice full of panic and concern.

“He needed to get off by himself.” the young woman answered. “He’s okay. If you were surrounded by idiots all the time, that needed you to think for them about everything wouldn’t you go off to be alone first chance you got?”

“But he’s our leader,” The young man replied. “he’s suppose to be where we know where he is at all times, what if we needed him?.”

The young woman sighed. She now knew what the men meant by Dobs needing to get away. That he was mentally drained, always being asked to do this or to do that for someone. Yes, to literally do all the thinking for everyone.

She was only a TL (Team Leader) and her authority while extensive was still limited. She couldn’t transfer anyone out just because they’d developed an unhealthy fond attachment to Dobs Macalister.

She knew of women that would give him their bodies, if only he’d ask them. But he wasn’t like that. He could have any woman in camp that his heart desired, and never sleep with the same woman twice.

He was true blue to his wife and would never be untrue to her, he loved her that much. He wasn’t homely, he just wasn’t handsome, his face held a mystery. It could be hard and totally void of emotion one minute, could go completely silent.

Then it could seem like. . . he wanted to say or express something hidden

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deep within his heart. Just like when he’d ordered the release of Randy Baker.

“If anybody has a goddamn problem with it, they need to either live with it, or they can come to me, and we’ll discuss it, then they can gear up and leave. The road to hell is that way!” He said with a sharp wave of his hand.

A very hard man.

Loyal only to his family and friends, many believe that once you become his friend, you’re a member of his family. Then you’re among those that were marked. That was why he avoided allowing himself to get too close.

Just another way for the man to protect his team, a man that would walk through the fires of hell for family.

June Macalister sat alone in the darkened room, the tears had just suddenly began to fall, and she couldn’t seem to stop them. She thought she felt something slip away from her, just moments before she awoke. Her first thought was that Dobs’s luck had finally ran out.

She placed her hand upon her chest, and found her heartbeat and then found the extra heartbeat. In their private moments they’d discovered that there was an extra heart beating in her chest. “It’s my heart.” he told her. “If you’re ever worried about me just find your beat then find mine, then you’ll know that I’m okay.”

The doctors had never been able to explain it. It wasn’t the baby’s heart, this has showed up after she and Dobs had first confessed their love for the other. There was probably a rational explanation for it, but their theory was the best so far.

She knew that this really didn’t prove or disprove a damn thing. But it did offer some degree of comfort, he’s very human, just flesh and blood, with all the strengths and weaknesses of any other man. His strengths are in some ways much more powerful than others.

He. . . he may have just fallen off the fertility wagon. Why did anything have to be wrong? Why are you doing this? You just woke up and you can’t go back to

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sleep, nothing is wrong. Not one goddamn thing!

The extra heartbeat grew stronger and even more rapid. “This is weird.”

Though it was a bit cool she could feel the sweat forming on her body. “What the hell is happening?” she whispered.

Then she felt a slight discomfort just seconds before her water broke. “Rob! Edith!” she cried out with a startled cry.

She saw the lights in the hallway come on, and the sounds of one or both people coming to help her.

“Edith get those old sheets out of the hall closet, I don’t know how close we are to the miracle, but we’re close.” Rob said with a smile.

“Where is Dobs?” June asked her voice growing with panic. “I want Dobs here.”

“He’s away June. Remember?”

“Bastard!” she shouted. “Made damn sure he stuck around for the fun, but bailed before it was time for me to birth his son.”

“Edith I think maybe you should. . . do this.” Rob said as he slowly backed away.

“Why?”

“Think about it, she’s a bit pissed at my brother. My Identical Twin brother, she may decide to get violent.”

Edith laughed as she shooed her husband out of the room. “Big tough cop, faces outlaws, Germans, and other shitheads, but afraid of a woman giving birth. Jeeze! What a wuss.”

Rob quickly left the room, and tried to think of what Edith may need, he went into the kitchen and put on some water to boil. He had no idea if it was really needed, but they always say boil water in the movies. “Shit! What am I thinking?”

He left the water to boil just in case, and tried to figure out just exactly where Dobs could be.

Sheets were already torn into strips, in case they ever needed bandages. He stood close by just in case Edith called for him.

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He could hear her talking to June, in a soothing tone. Thank God, she’d taken a few nursing classes. Mostly a class on life saving skills, but she went a few steps further and volunteered at the hospital. She came home one night, and just kept looking at her hands.

When asked what was up, she smiled and said: “I helped bring a man back to life.” She then went on to describe to him what a human heart looked like.

A few nights later she’d come in, and told him that she needed to be alone for awhile. (A child hadn’t made it) He tried to help but it only made matters worse. “Okay-so I’m human, mister ice cold cop! I can’t help it, when a person sees what I saw. . .” she looked up at him with very hostile eyes, “you need to cut me some fucking slack!”

He backed way off.

She then got very drunk.

Rob slept on the couch in the nursery, and took care of the baby all the hours of the night.

The next morning he was up long, before the alarm and quietly slipped in and turned it off. He quickly showered, and dressed for work and made the coffee and some toast.

The sounds in the next room increased, and he smiled when he heard the sound of the baby crying.

“Put a little bit of ice in the water, that I’m sure is too hot by now and bring it in here. We need to clean the baby, and June up.”

Rob slowly went into the room, and June smiled at him. “Sorry about before.” she said weakly.

“That’s what you’re worried about, you just brought a new life into the world.”

“Uh-Rob, the water.” Edith, said in a firm voice.

“Is she properly covered?”

“Jeeze! Just put the damn water down, and get out of here!”

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“June smiled and gently patted her cousin’s hand. “Dobs would be the same way if it were you. Both are gentlemen, but both are also heroes. He’s playing it down, and giving this one to you.”

She hated to admit it, but June was right. Rob wasn’t afraid of June smacking him in anger. June had all the help she needed right now. If the need arose, Rob would do what was needed, to save both her cousin and the child. But for now, this moment did belonged to her and June.

I slowly pulled away from Ann, not really or fully understanding what had happened. I knew that I’d just. . . I just couldn’t understand why. The room smelled heavily of sex, and I honestly felt unclean. I went to the bathroom and got into the shower. I tried not to think of June, but her face just kept popping into my mind.

I knew that within the next few moments Ann would get up and come and join me. All during the night as she’d snuggle closer to me she’d whisper that now I was

her’s.

The shower curtain opened and Ann stepped in with me, I tried to fight the sensation, but even before the battle began I knew that I was going to loose.

I took her into my arms and we both became like two frenzied animals fighting desperately to dominate the other. A fight she lost.

She gently pushed me away, and slowly sank to the floor of the shower. “Get out of here and leave me alone. I need to be alone for a minute.” the old memories flooding her mind.

I stepped out and took a robe that I assume belonged to her husband and left the bathroom. Before I left, I could hear her crying.

Jesus. What have I done? Did I somehow loose control and force her? What have I allowed myself to become? I sat down on the foot of the bed, the scent of sex still heavy in the room, and to be truthful it was making me ill.

I went over and opened a window, and then I quickly dressed, I had to get out

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of that room. If I wasn’t there when she came in, then maybe I’d be able to control myself better.

I went straight to the kitchen, and started a pot of coffee. I looked at the problem from reverse maybe, I’d just been without June too long. Maybe, I was lonely and didn’t even know it.

I shook my head knowing that was just an excuse, I was trying to justify my act of adultery. I knew that it was pure bullshit. It was bullshit because, I’d been close to female members of my team while they were in various stages of undress.

Not a damn thing happened.

It isn’t something that a man writes about, not if he’s a gentleman that is. Hell, I’m not even so certain, if gentleman is the term I’m wanting to use. Maybe I’m not just, some sorry son of a bitch. Perhaps, I’m just a real bastard after all.

Ann came into the kitchen in her robe, and sat down across from me. Our eyes touched, and softly held for a moment. She smiled softly, then her eyes suddenly averted from mine all together.

“Exactly what happened to us yesterday?” I asked, without pulling the punch.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, and still avoided my eyes. “If I tell you, you’re going to have to listen, and not just hear.”

I nodded.

“My parents are the ones that put it together, they figured out that something wasn’t quite right with the story told to them.”

“You mean about what happened to us at that retreat.”

“Yes Dobs. . . those people worked for the government, they wanted kids there to test a theory.” she paused to let her words sink in.

“What to see if they could start a mass orgy? Come on Ann, this is movie stuff.”

“Where do you think they got the idea? Perhaps, it was already a thought in

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their sick minds. Get strangers to engage in sex, then who knew what else they could make a person do.”

In a sick way it did make sense. “So what happened to us then was a form of brainwashing. But what about here and now?”

“My parents found this much out, after going home some of those kids committed suicide. Others were locked up for their own protection as well for the protection of others, they suffered from severe mental disorder, very severe.

“Whatever it was they did to us they never undid. The shrink that treated me found all this out, he did his best to undo their damage. You see, they couldn’t just undo it all not without tipping their hand.

“He put in a backdoor so to speak just in case, it ever started again. I think somehow that door was reopened, perhaps by something said or done.”

“But what about me? I was never treated.”

“You sure about that Dobs? Consciously, you’d have no real knowledge of the treatments.”

“So you’re saying that every time. . . I see you or hear some key phrase I’m going to want to make wild love to you.” I asked sarcastically.

“It could be anything that triggers it Dobs. There isn’t much telling what they put inside your mind.”

I noticed that she finally looked me in the eyes, and I could actually see her weaken. She moved closer to me and her scent entered my mind. I could feel us tearing, at each other’s clothing and the urge for us to make love on the table was powerful. The voice inside my head seemed to scream at me it’s her scent. That was what attracted you to her in the first place. “Scent.” I muttered.

“Sent. Sent what?” she whispered as she pulled me closer.

“No. It’s your scent.” I stood up and moved away from her very quickly, my head began to clear, and the sudden sexual arousal left me as quickly as it came.

I turned my back to her, and I could hear her retying the sash to her robe. “What were you thinking, as you looked into my eyes?” I asked.

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“That your eyes reminded me of two soft pools, both warm and cool at the same time. That the only way to appease the heat in my body...was to allow your eyes to seduce my soul.”

Damn. If she was right, those bastards were good.

Perfect plan, control thoughts control emotions, make a person loose their focus on what they should be concerned with.

The Quest

Chapter Eighteen

Dan Parker shook his head angrily, and threw the file across the room. Agent Larris walked in just as the last of the paper was floating to the floor. “Are we throwing a temper tantrum?”

“Do you know who Dobs Macalister? He was born Dobson Alexander Macalister.”

Cindy shook her head, “Sorry, am I suppose to know that name, outside of this case that is?”

“Back in the 50's a certain German scientist came up with a plan a very sick goddamn plan. Mind control. He felt that if the brain could be stimulated, then the subject could be controlled. They put out an order for a certain type of kid to be sent to their camp.”

Cindy slowly sat down in the chair in front of the large desk. “I’m not going to like this am I chief?”

Dan took a long quivering breath. “They got hold of several kids and preformed their sick little experiments ...”

The more she listened to the sick details the more sick she became. It was pure perversion and it was also very twisted. To do that to anybody was sick enough. . . but to do that to kids was the sickest thing ever.

Thing was they gotten away with it, some of those kids committed suicide because of what was put in their minds. God only knows what may still be lurking deep inside the minds of those still alive.

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Sir Robert paced the living-room of Dobs’s house, he paused lit up a cigarette, and looked at the picture of Dobs as a young man. The look of defiance burning in his young eyes, the boy had grown into a hell of a man.

A true man of honor.

All the talks that he’d had with the boy came to mind, Dobs, was always full of questions. He’d known that even then, that there was something different about his future brother-in-law. Different as in the way of being very special.

Who would have ever thought. . .

His in-laws were almost always gone, always going to see this relative or that one. They had accepted him and had stayed out of what they’d figured to be destiny.

In those days Sara was the one that was always looking after her brothers. It was out of honor that he’d taken Joe with them to England. Rob and Dobs were old enough to see to themselves, and there was that uncle that was to look in on them.

Now the boys were grown, he tried to contact the uncle, and then tried to contact the cousins, that his in-laws were suppose to be visiting. There was something very wrong here. That was no longer a working number.

He called the operator and she tried the number. . . this time there was an answer. Odd. Very odd. They were out. . . camping out to be exact.

The person he talked to was the daughter of the cousin, she’d get word to them by way of the general store. “What. . . oh I’m home from college it's kinda embarrassing I flunked out.”

He tried the local uncle again, and on the fifth ring there was an answer. “Been working out back, never knew I had to check in with you Robert.”

“Sorry sir, I didn’t mean for it to. . . sound that way. Dobs is missing. His personal team are even worried, as well as his second in command.”

“Dobs probably just needed some time off to himself. Even as a kid he’d sometimes go off and hide. Call me when it’s actually something really important.” The connection was broke quite rudely.

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There was a hell of a lot more, to all that was now happening, and Robert knew it. Nobody, seemed overly concerned that Sara’s parents hadn’t called in days, and this so called uncle was acting like an ass.

He could suddenly feel eyes on him, and he turned and saw the young man set a

tray down. Something was very familiar about that. “Can I help you?”

“No sir. I thought you might be hungry and thirsty, I know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.” the young man replied with a smile.

Robert stared for a moment, he’d seen that smile before, and he could almost place when and where.

“I know you’re worried about Dobs, but not taking care of yourself will not help matters.”

“I’m not sure that we’ve met. Robert Clary.” he said as put out his hand.

“Ben Wilson.” the young man replied as he took the offered hand.

“Well Ben, around here no man waits on another. Thank you for the gesture, but in the future see to your needs, and the needs of your woman and kids.”

Ben smiled taking an immediate liking to the older man, he noted that he was a bit gruff, but at the same time, the type not to pull his punches.

They’d said in a coded message that TSHHTF. He was one of the newest and youngest agents, and had the least amount experience. They’d actually told him to hunt a hole, and to wait until the danger had passed. Yeah-right. He left England, and came to the states.

This was going to take seasoned agents, and even then there were no guarantees that they’d succeed. But he was going to try.

He went straight to Texas, and bummed around for a short time, and soon teamed up with a small group of survivors. “I’ve heard of a man by the name of Macalister that’ll help you. But you’d best straight with him, or you could get your neck stretched.” he said to the group after they’d rechecked their rations. Exactly three days worth. If they didn’t eat lunch.

Since there were children with them, they’d have to figure something out.

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Something real quick.

A young woman smiled secretly, the talk had become grossly exaggerated. But it had cut down on those that just wanted the free ride, and those that would try to infiltrate their ranks, in order to destroy them from within.

This group would stand. She especially liked the young man Ben Wilson. He was. . . different. He ate very little and always made certain that the children ate. He’d stand his watch, and always took the Zombie watch. Midnight to dawn.

They had people watching him, and many of the others to make certain that they were what they appeared to be. Four men were found to be part of a hate group.

They were eliminated.

Ben had checked out nothing shady, at times wanting to be alone. Nothing real unusual there. Many people were like that, he did his job, never complained and brought back his share of meat.

But still the office of trust was vacant.

He’d won their trust completely, when it was him that had caught one of the men in the act of a late night radio call. He knew of the man only by reputation, and the bastard also fit the description of a man wanted by several agencies. He’d befriended the man, and when he’d caught his new friend in the act was able to very convincingly have a combination of hate, rage, and the hurt look of betrayal in his eyes.

“What would you do with them Ben?” he was asked.

Without so much as a pause, he spat on the ground and replied: “I’d put em against a wall, a tree whatever and shoot the fuckers.”

“We have no knowledge of any crimes they may have committed. They tricked us, but should that act cost them their lives?”

Ben took a deep breath and nodded his head in submission. “You’re right. I just can’t get over the fact, that he slipped right under my radar. I guess my pride is a little hurt.”

The group nodded. His response his emotions made perfect sense, no-man likes

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to be made to feel foolish. Ben was finally in the club.

Now he was now in the camp, and was close to Robert Clary. “I’m sorry sir. Habit I guess. I used to work at this one restaurant, and the higher ups insisted on being treated like royalty.” Not a lie.

“No man should ever expect to be treated in such a manner,” Robert replied harshly. “he should consider himself lucky that anyone thinks of him at all.

Ben smiled “Job didn’t last real long, but long enough I guess. When I get nervous, I revert back to those days.”

The higher ups were assholes with a god complex and treated everybody like shit. Hence the reason the job didn’t last long. He refused to bow or kneel.

“Sit down please.” Robert replied taking an interest in what the young man may have to say. “Why are you getting nervous?”

“Since Macalister disappeared there has been talk, I heard some of the older people talking. . . they seem to think that maybe one of the newer people may be a traitor.”

Robert nodded. He’d heard the same talk, it was pure bullshit, and he and Randy both knew it. The older people were just becoming paranoid.

“I figured if I toed the line, even more so no one would have a reason to point a finger my way.”

“Relax Ben. Nobody, is going to point a finger your way. Dobs, is just being himself. He has his reasons for not being here. It’s my guess, that we’re all going to have a good laugh at the reason.”

The young man seemed to breath a sigh of relief, and even managed a smile.

“Why didn’t the restaurant job work out?”

“I was living away from home with these people, that were into this really weird religion. I played the game so to speak, just so I’d have a roof over my head. They didn’t buy much food, in fact they bought only enough for them. I was hungry and got caught eating a leftover steak, that and the fact the bosses thought they were mightier than God.”

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Robert smiled sadly. He’d never been forced into anything like that. But there were many who had.

“The boss said that he was going to take it out of my pay, make me pay for a steak that was suppose to be thrown away. . . I told him to go fuck himself.”

Once again the truth. The owner was, and is still a first rate asshole. An asshole that had to have his ass handed to him.

Robert frowned at the words spoken by the young man. Not that he thought that the young man was lying. The story sounded very familiar. “What happened after that?”

“Told me I was fired, to get out of his place. I laughed and told him he was a goddamn idiot. I asked him, what part of Go Fuck Himself didn’t he understand, that I’d just quit.”

Robert then knew where he’d heard the story. Jerry, had been told by an older staff member about a young man that had been screwed over by some big hotshot

restaurant owner in Texas.

Jerry’s reaction was confusing. “That sorry ass bastard never did have any goddamn sense. He’ll get his comeuppance one day.”

Robert smiled, as he suddenly remembered the rest of the story. “You knocked out his two front teeth and then had to use a cast-iron skillet, to defend yourself against his punk-ass sons.”

Ben returned the smile, did he detect a note of approval, for what he’d done? “Had to even the odds in my favor.”

“You did real good, that bastard recently lost a good deal of his money, when it was learned about some of his side ventures.”

“Oh.” the young man asked with a very sarcastic grin.

Robert noted that the smile had contained just a slight hint arrogance, and was positive that he’d seen the smile before.

“Bastard was as crooked as a snake, somebody recently made a call to the FEDS and blew the whistle on. . .” Robert looked at the young man, and slowly smiled.

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“Uh-huh. Sneaky little. . .”

“Somebody had to even the odds,” Ben said. “but my hands are clean on this one, I wish I could accept credit, but I really am innocent.”

“I have a feeling, you’re about as innocent as a fox in a hen house.”

Lenny had the sinking feeling that something was wrong for quite some time. Some of the new people were just too good to be true. Their stories were just too perfect.

He was an old man and who was going to listen to him? Dobs would. But Dobs had disappeared. Maybe Randy would listen. . . if he could only get in to see the man. Something was way off, the man was always just too busy to see anyone right then.

He’d left countless messages but he felt. . . no! He knew that the man hadn’t even been given the messages. Someone on staff was dirty, and he was going to find the bastard. He’d find and expose him, and make him pay very hard.

He’d set the trap, and get the leader of the new people, over to his cabin. Maybe, just maybe it could also lead him to Dobs.

James Dutmore’s time was to be numbered in a single digit, with any luck it would be minutes instead of hours. Lenny smiled coldly as he sent the word, and just like that the trap was set. This was something he was going to enjoy immensely.

It was high time for things to start moving.

The Quest

Chapter Nineteen

James Dutmore went over to the cabin, knowing full well that the old man didn’t like or trust any of those in his group. He as well as his team were small time, and his instincts, told him that the group they’d linked up with were a very highly dangerous group of people.

There was one woman that seemed to go out of her way to avoid him, she had the markings of an assassin. Her movements told him that she was very good at what she did. Her bland expression told him she could kill without feeling.

Then there was Macalister’s people themselves, those people were good at what they did, and they had taken to the woman’s group almost immediately. His people were being carefully watched they may have to abort.

They were just a group of friends, that had taken a page from Macalister and felt forced to make a change in Texas. In the beginning they’d wanted to make a peaceful change.

They had yet to even give themselves a name, thinking that they’d just be known as the good guys. For any group of people regardless of color, will take just so much, of being told how they’re to live their lives.

This group felt that most of the blame could and should be placed at the feet of the minorities. Wanting full compensation for things that happened to their grandparents and great grandparents.

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Okay-it was wrong to enslave them. . . but why should anybody today have to pay for something, that they had absolutely nothing to do with? Quit harping on it, and leave it the Fuck alone.

Certain others feel that the rest of the blame should be dropped at the feet of the government. The government never once reminding the minorities of their proper place. . . and then taking the appropriate steps to keep them there.

They were free. . . and they should be happy with that much.

Stupid assholes. Don’t they know how easy it could be, for it to just happen all over again? Their group would never do anything like that, but there were some hate groups out there that were fully capable of attempting to do just that.

Think again buddy. Never again in America.

Let freedom ring. Always and forever.

No man, will ever again enslave another race, not as long as there are people like Dobs Macalister and Randy Baker left alive.

Lenny had gone as far as to say, to the new man. “You got these people fooled, but you don’t have me.”

“Sir?”

“Loose the innocent act, I know who and what you people are. My people have been gathering info for many years.”

Okay, so the old man had more brass and balls than he figured on. Cunning old fucker. “Lenny, may I call you Lenny? Good...”

“Mr. Schwartz.”

“Excuse me?”

“Only my friends and family call me Lenny, my family is either dead, or they're scattered to the winds. My friends are a just limited few, asshole. You, you’re not worthy to be shit-paper in my bathroom.”

James felt as though he’d been slapped across the face. Which he had in a verbal sense anyway. It was a gift Lenny had. If he liked a person his words took on a peaceful tone, and his eyes spoke what the mouth didn’t say.

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If he felt nothing but ice, his words could cut and his eyes sear the wound close. If he were to tell one to get fucked, that person would feel extremely violated, and the sudden need for a very long hot shower.

“Best watch it old man, I may take offense. Dobs isn’t here to save you, and that stupid nigger that he left in charge isn’t smart enough to figure anything out.”

Lenny had lived a long life, and he had faced greater threats than this one man, and he was still very much alive. He smiled and snorted. “Your time is growing short Dutmore.”

James felt his temper snap and he lunged toward the man, he saw the sudden flash of steel, and felt the intense pain as the blade cut deep into his chest.

His drove his fist into the old man’s chest, and as he fell back he watched as Lenny fall to the floor. “Die you old fuck. Ain’t nobody gonna stop us. . .”

Moments later two members of his team entered the cabin. “Best get you patched up James we’ll clean up here.” Tim Duncan replied as he looked down at the old man.

“Better hope nobody figures out what really happened here. Lot of people liked that old man. Dobs will personally lead the hunt on us.” Larry Simms said in a low voice.

He didn’t like what had just happened, he didn’t even know that Dutmore was going to kill the old man. Talk. He was just going to talk, that was what Dutmore had said he was going to do.

“I take it you don’t approve.” Tim said, as James slipped out the back door.

“No, I don’t approve, he was a nice old man, and James killed him in cold blood. It’s goddamn fucking wrong.” Larry said in a tight voice.

“Is this going to become a problem?”

What’s so wrong with this way of life Tim? They just want to be left alone. If they want to rub elbows, with different races why should it concern you or James. Everyone of these people are really nice folks.”

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Tim frowned at the words, spoken by the man he’d once called a friend. He nodded his head and began the clean up. This was not a problem that was just going to go away on it’s own.

“Tim listen to me: We can go to Randy, we can tell him what James is up to man. We had nothing to do with this, but if you cover this up, and it’ll be like you approve of him killing Lenny.”

Tim suddenly spun around and tried a sucker punch, but Larry was expecting the move and easily blocked. The two men stood staring at one another, hate burning in their eyes. “You’re a dead man Larry. Whether you talk or not, you’re going to die.”

“I’ll be waiting for you Tim, unless of course you ain’t got the balls to do

it yourself.” Larry said with a faint smile, as he backed away. He looked down at the body of Lenny. “he didn’t deserve to die like that, I swear to the Almighty that I’ll be setting things right.”

“The Almighty!” Tim snorted. “A month ago you were an avowed atheist.”

Larry smiled, “God may forgive you and let you into His kingdom. Be sure to tell Him, who sent you there, and if you have to write it, spell my name right you stupid illiterate sack of shit.”

“It must have been his heart,” Randy said sadly to the other two men in the room. “he wasn’t in that good of health.”

“This isn’t going to set well with Dobs he loved that old man.”

“Do what you can to find out the truth, and then let me know.”

“You think it may have been something else?” the doctor asked.

Randy looked around the small cabin. Yeah, that was highly possible. Lenny wasn’t a complete slob, but his place was never this clean. Somebody had taken great care, to clean or to cover up whatever had actually happened here.

“Just please take care of him, and report only to me, don’t send any reports or news by anyone else. You personally come and tell me of your findings.”

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“Yes sir.”

They both had been hearing the odd clicking sound for the past ten minutes. Randy was certain he knew what it was, he’d heard that sound many times. It was the same sound that a tape recorder made when the tape ran out.

He traced the sound to it’s source, and smiled grimly as he took the recorder. It was well hidden. Why? Why would Lenny hide a tape-recorder, unless he recorded something special. Someone saying or doing something...

Larry watched as the large Black man left the cabin.

As long as Ann wasn’t too close to me, it would seem that whatever was done to us lost it’s punch. I still wanted her, but I didn’t know if that was all in my mind or in my heart.

If I got too close to her, I just knew that I wanted her, her scent seemed to always echo somewhere inside me. Roses. Yeah, that was the scent.

She was a very attractive woman, and could bring out those primitive thoughts

in any man. But, whatever they’d done to us, had not lost it’s effectiveness.

“Maybe it’s something in the laundry soap.” she said in a hopeful tone. “It’s the same mom always used even back then.”

“We need to find the source, I can’t go through life getting turned on every time I’m around you.”

Ann smiled, “I’ll try not to take that personally, I’ll go and get the soap and let you smell it.”

“Is it somehow scented with flowers?”

“No.”

I shook my head, “It’s the scent of flowers that drives me out of control.”

“What if, we just went our separate ways?” Ann asked. “I can wait for you to send someone after me.”

“I could also use my radio, but we’d be in the same camp, what if we were to loose control there?”

The Quest Ron Carey/CH.19/PG.157 “In a very sick way, this is a good line of defense: Fix it so that a person is either so repulsed, or so aroused by another that they don’t dare go around them.” Ann replied thoughtfully.

“Not if they’re strong that is, think about it Ann: If a person isn’t so strong and they give in. . .”

“They’d rape or kill whoever was to get in their way. But not everybody can be under mind control. But it could explain many of them. That good church going kid, that all American type suddenly snapping.”

A very crazy idea came to mind, no that was entirely too unrealistic. “Dobs that’s a very half-baked idea.”

“What?”

The wind seemed to shift, and the aroma of roses assaulted my nose. I took a step toward her trying to fight the sensation. “That those that don’t give in are part scoundrel to begin with. They can fight it because of some hidden strength.”

She turned to face me, and took a step toward me. “Very polite way of saying they’re part bastard, and part son of a bitch. But they have to have something else, inside them to help balance it out. Something called compassion.”

“Compassion should be considered a strength too Ann. It’s a very powerful emotion. It gives a person the option of helping another, or to show sympathy for

those who may be hurting, to kill or not to kill.”

“How can killing be an act of compassion?” Ann asked a very horrified look in her eyes.

“If an animal, has been hit by a car and is suffering, isn’t it an act of compassion to end the pain?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Wouldn’t it also be an act of compassion, to also kill some scumbag-rapist rather than allow him, to get hold of another woman or even a child?”

“Dobs. . .”

“Yes.”

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“Maybe you’re onto something.” she said with a faint smile. “If we were any closer, we’d be doing the vertical tuck and roll.”

The strong scent of roses was in the air, and I was actually able to combat it.

“Are you feeling anything?” I asked nervously. It made me a bit uneasy actually asking this woman, if she was turned on, or if she was getting turned on.

“Nothing-I can’t handle.”

I sniffed the air and then smelled her neck, and the urge to throw her to the ground and attack hit with a violent fury.

“What are you doing?” she almost shouted. Then she looked into my eyes and passion almost overtook us both.

We both turned away at the same time.

“This is just great, I don’t even like sex that much,” Ann said with a straight face. “and yet here I am needing you like I need air.”

“Could have fooled me.” I said with a smile. “June used to complain that I wasn’t normal. She’d heard somewhere that all men ever thought about was getting some then getting some more.”

“Maybe we can force it out of us, just keep going and maybe it will run it’s course.”

The secret lies within us. I looked down at my left hand, and thought about the ring that was suppose to be there. I was suppose to be with my wife. Not here, and certainly not with this woman. I could feel the pressure building within my chest. I should be there holding my son, dreaming about what kind of man, he’d grow to be. Not wanting to make love to this woman.

Make love?

Shit!

Love had nothing to do with it.

I could feel myself growing angry, highly pissed at myself for being weak enough to allow this to control me. I’d once began to read a sex book that a buddy

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of mine had found.

It was sick and disgusting, and I’d hated every turn of the page, but I just couldn’t seem to put it down for some reason. The pull that I felt when I looked at Ann was the same thing.

I finally threw the book into the trash pit and burned it, I couldn’t do that to Ann. But I couldn’t leave either. Whatever, it was they’d put inside us wouldn’t let that happen.

Nobody was going to believe any of this crap, oh wow, many years ago me and this woman had been brainwashed, and now every time we get too close to the other we’re overcome by sexual desire.

Just leave and don’t look back, that’s what you’re thinking. It may or may not work. Think about this: I catch the same scent on another woman, and then I attack her. . . this is even scaring me.

Is that even possible? Could that actually happen, or can perfume scents be different on other women? Is this also part of the programing? To make the subject become so paranoid, that they’re afraid to move or to act.

There are worse desires I guess, at least Ann has the same ones as I do.

Anger. Focus on anger, a small voice beckoned me.

June would never believe any of this crap. How could I ever expect her to? My pregnant wife. . . pregnant? “Ann, what precautions are you taking to keep from getting pregnant?”

“Me? What about you? Why is it always the woman that has to focus on prevention? You men are a damn joke, you get your jollies and then run. A friend of mine had a guy tell her that he ate too much pepper and it made him sterile. Bastard never did live up to his responsibility.”

I had to push it, and I couldn’t tell her why. I knew I was on to something.

“Well Annie men can’t take the pill, you broads can. Now I’m asking you, are you on some kind of birth control?”

“I suppose you think any woman, that isn’t sexually active should be on the

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pill just in case.”

“Never know when the big urge might hit them.” I replied sarcastically. “A man shouldn’t have to worry, if she’s going to show up someday with some little bastard, expecting him to help.” the words left a very bad taste in my mouth, and I hated myself for the words I was speaking.

But it was working.

“Oh-that’s real nice, I didn’t see you trying too hard to restrain yourself from getting into bed with me. Don’t worry! I won’t screw up your happy home. I’d never want anyone to know how low I’d sunk.”

“Didn’t sink as low as I did, usually one has to pay for the services you provided.”

Her eyes blazed with anger, and for a moment I thought I’d pushed too hard. “That last one hit below the belt,” she said softly. “but it was very effective.” she said with a shake of her head.

“You sure?” I asked.

“Trust me. . . you’re most definitely the last man on this planet, I’d ever want to sleep with.”

I grinned my response most men would have been deeply insulted. “Haven’t changed emotions have you?”

“You didn’t die in my bed, so I guess you’re gonna live Dobs.”

The Quest

Chapter Twenty

The members of “Rogue Group” sat around the table in the small cabin. The wheels had been set in motion, and even if they wanted to stop it. . . it would be close to impossible. Not to mention very deadly for them to attempt to even try.

The man was destine to die, and it was meant for him to die in front of millions. The plan would work. That group of kids from that 50's retreat had helped to prove it would work. Only two out of the twenty had come out of it.

Since then they’d improved on the treatment, now there was no way for the subject to fight it. It was also close to impossible to reverse. But not completely impossible. After this was dealt with, they’d then deal with Dobs Macalister.

How could one man screw up a perfect plan? How could one man get so many people to join him. The man was very close to being paranormal. He had that special quality that drew people to him, that made people want to follow him.

The experts said that it was because he was a rebel, always speaking his mind, and always ready to back it up. That he’d say and do what other people only thought about doing. Things that most people would never in a hundred years say or do.

But people who thought as he did, were coming forward and joining him. In the beginning he was a very small minority. Totally insignificant. Now he’d grown into a real major pain in the ass.

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All over the country there were people taking a stand of some sort. Little things that may appear to be small but were anything but small.

One young man shattered his supervisor’s jaw with a hard right. He then called another supervisor, and then waited five minutes, and called the cops. They all showed up at the same time.

“If you will check him you’ll find that he has five one hundred dollar bills under his shirt. He said that, Ya'll were coming up exactly five hundred dollars short. The deposit bag is already shut up in the office and locked in the safe.”

His boss shook his head, and told the officers to take the manager in. “I gave Tank full authority to act in the company’s best interest. In fact my exact words I believe were: I know that somebody is dirty, I want you to be my eyes and ears. Be certain of the facts, and then do whatever it takes to keep that person from leaving.”

Tank breathed a sigh of relief at the blatant lie.

“Anything wrong sir?” an officer asked suspiciously.

“No sir. Everything is okay, my father was afraid that the story wouldn’t be the same, and I’d be the one left holding the bag.”

The officer stared for a moment then smiled. “I know you don’t really expect me to believe that?”

“By way Sergeant, Captain Davidson is my old. . . father.”

The officer also knew the story that was always kept out of the reports. Steve (Tank) was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then he’d loose his temper and bust a few heads. It was getting pretty damn tiresome, sweeping up the teeth and mopping up the blood after the boy. Then having to make certain that his name stayed off the reports.

How would it look, if it were made known that a certain police captain’s son to be less than perfect? That he had a problem with his temper, they’d want to put him away. He didn’t have a problem that called for that.

Too bad what he did have wasn’t contagious.

The Quest CH.20/PG.163 He had a syndrome known as FYIDGAS. (Fuck You I don’t Give A Shit) I don’t give a shit, about the rights of punks that prey on innocent people. I don’t give a shit, if the law likes or dislikes my actions. I don’t give a shit, if those twelve assholes on the jury say my actions were criminal.

To protect and to serve. To protect and to serve whom, the innocent or the

slime? He’d seen the maggots get busted, and then six maybe seven months later they’re back out on the damn street.

A very good friend of his was raped, she was beaten and brutalized, and that motherfucker said that she asked for it. That she asked him to do that to her, that was what got her blood going.

HORSESHIT!

He’d watched as she and her fiancee tried to pick up the pieces of a shattered life. Her man didn’t blame her, but he was still a man and didn’t know what to do. When he tried to hold her, that was when she didn’t want to be touched. When he tried to give her some space. . . that was when she needed to be in his arms.

The law let the bastard go.

They Let The Motherfucker Go!

The reason why? Because her mother was an ex-whore, they felt that it must run in the family.

The bastard turned up dead, and their investigation on his death, was much more extensive than the one conducted for the rape. They had to find out who it was that did those horrible things to that poor man.

All living things die, his parents had recently died in a car wreck. . .

Must have been something that ran in his family. . .

The news of the horrendous death hit the streets, and many spat in the gutter and replied: “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”

Since it was a homicide investigation Steve was brought in. “I wasn’t there, but I’m sure the bastard was drunk, just like he was the night he spent with

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Darnell. He must have been drunk and just fell on the machete.”

“Seventy times. . . somehow I don’t think so.” the investigating officer replied sarcastically.

“Okay, so he was also a moron.” Steve, replied with a smile.

It was just another way of Steve Davidson, thumbing his nose at the law. They knew it had to be him, but there was not one shred of evidence to confirm their suspicions.

The officer tried for over four hours to break Steve’s story but the man never faltered. The girl he was suppose to have been with at the party confirmed his story, as did the other thirty witnesses from the same party

The case was never officially closed, in later years all evidence and files would vanish from the police station.

Tank along with countless other men and women, would join in the fight for Texas Freedom. They would be considered among the Founding Fathers by those in the Company. The men and women that had decided to take a stand for their beliefs.

They would never be read about, in any history book, nor would their deeds ever be discussed by presidents in speeches to the nation.

Their tactics and ingenuity would be recorded and studied. Theirs would be the foundation, in which certain organizations would base their philosophies on.

In their line of work, it would be wise to understand certain facts in dealing with the enemy. You either Kill or you’re killed. Dying may come with the job, but at least die with honor. In other words: you take as many of the bastards with you as possible. Go Down Proud if You Must Fall.

Yes, by all means take out as many of the enemy as possible, then those on your team will have fewer assholes to deal with. Take out their storage areas, and make life as unpleasant as possible.

There are no niceties in dealing with the scumbags. You either kill the bastards, or put them so far from daylight, that all forms of comfort are unseen, and completely out of their reach.

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There are to this date, people that are presumed missing, that are in such a prison. They pissed off the wrong people, and are now as they say. . . history.

Never give in. Never allow them to see one sign, that any of those frivolous emotions even exist inside you. Compassion and all of those other corn-ball types of emotions that they’d failed to show during the actions of their crimes don’t exist within you either.

Soon even some of the actions of this group, will leak out and will cause disgust to many of Americans. Too harsh a punishment for a scumbag. Well Boo-hoo, and Fuck You Too.

One group would try pointing out that a certain percentage of those killed were Black. But what they’d fail to point out is that in the beginning, an even larger percentage of the punks, that were killed during the first two weeks were White.

His plans had gone from bad to stupid, then to complete shit. Borga could not

understand how the cops, and insubordinate groups of citizens could have grown so powerful and so large so fast.

They must have been underground all this time. He reasoned, that was the only logical explanation. He made a mental note to personally shoot his intelligence officer. This mission was rapidly turning to complete shit, and there was nothing that he could do about it.

What was so bad he’d lost contact, with his people in his homeland. Without them backing him, he could and in all likelihood would loose his immunity. The local cops would love that.

There wasn’t anything wrong with the radio. . . it was almost as if they were either being ignored, or his people were just no longer there.

“Send out the assault teams. Attack their towns, start with their schools and churches and nursing homes. I want to hear about lots and lots of dead bodies. If I hear of another failure, I will personally shoot those responsible.”

His voice was steady but it had an evil ting to it, he was losing his grip on

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his sanity.

The woman fought back the sick feeling in her stomach. This is one Really Sick Fucking Cowardly Bastard. Takes a brave person to attack, or to make war against children, and the elderly. Not to mention those that may be in the churches.

She knew that he was standing by watching her for a reason, she was under suspicion of being a traitor. If she didn’t comply Borga would personally shoot her in the head.

In the short time she’d been here, she’d actually grown to like America. The people were not at all like they’d told them. They’d been lied to. Now, she practically had a gun to her head, and she was to order the deaths of little children. Babies!

One group had welcomed her into their church, she learned of the teachings of Christ, and though she’d been taught to hate and despise all forms of Christianity, she’d wept at the acts done to such a wise, as well as a very kind and gentle man.

She gave the order first in German, then in Spanish. Then she smiled faintly as she set the dial. Please God. . . please let me get word out. I cannot allow little children to be killed, I cannot allow them to kill anymore of your people.

She spoke in perfect English. She gave the order to attack the cities and be certain that the schools, and churches were to be the main targets. She tried her

best to sound cold and merciless as she gave the order to also attack the nursing homes.

Borga smiled as he walked away. The woman had passed his test and she had more than proven her loyalty. Now, he’d simply sit back and wait for the fun to begin. He was the sickest man to ever set foot in America. In later years there would be some that would run a close race in the sick department.

The Quest

Chapter Twenty-one

The young radio operator shook her head in shock. It was a warning clear and simple and she knew it. The voice was familiar to her, she’d heard it many times before. It had warned them then, just as it was warning them now. She hit record and made a dub.

She made a note in the log, and sent for her supervisor. It was standard SOP, and was as natural an act as breathing. She waited for a replacement then went to speak to the large man.

“Sir it’s happened again-that same person sent us another one of those warnings. This one is more frightening than any of the ones I’ve ever heard before, and sir, I finally think that I can place that voice.”

The supervisor perked up at those words. “Who is she, or who do you think she is?”

“She gave her name as Ingrid Roth, she came here several weeks back. I remember her mostly because, she was making goo-goo eyes at Dobs. She was particularly interested in the children, and about how many were brought in daily by our patrols.”

James seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, “I remember that woman. She stayed very low-key and claimed, that she was looking for. . . her brother no her sister.”

“Actually-sir it was her sister’s son, she gave some story that her parents

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had been raising the boy, and that in her heart felt he was her brother.”

“You think this one is real?”

“Honestly, I think we should treat it as such, she has warned us before and it paid off to listen. I also think that this woman is about to be in very deep shit. If they were to ever find out that she’s betrayed them. . .”

“What do you suggest we do?” the large man asked already knowing the answer.

“We send out Recon Patrol. She’s got to know that sooner or later, her luck is going to run out. Maybe she knows that she’s already pushed her luck too far, and has got to gone from them.”

James smiled their team was perhaps the best in the area. It was clear that for some teams, intelligence had taken a nosedive. Those people were the ones that were cook’s helpers, or helped the medics in some small way. Anything but combat. They were all good people and had a good heartbeat, but they were either very stupid, or just didn’t have the sense the Good Lord gave a goose.

Jana Davis was one tough lady, and he knew the she could and would always follow the rules to the letter. She’d come to them a few months back, after a Recon Patrol had found her. She’d been hiding for several days from a group of Borga’s men.

One woman with no combat skills, had out maneuvered skilled assassins. She’d pushed her fear aside and allowed anger to take it’s place. She began digging punji pits, and setting trip wires.

Surprise being her best weapon.

Those maneuvers had saved her life, until the recon patrol caught up with her. Since then her first response to all counter measures had been “Send out Recon.”

The forces under the direct command of Dobs Macalister was growing more powerful with each day's passing. The other states wondered just what was going on in the Lone Star State. But no one had gathered the courage to venture to the Rebel State.

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Texas stood proudly alone. She had fought for her freedom from Santa Anna and during those thirteen days, one hundred and fifty men held their own against thousands.

Never giving up, or even thinking of giving in. The fight for Texas the fight for Her freedom had to be fought and won. Now a new evil has rose from the shit pit and a new battle is being fought.

So now once again Texans continue the fight, because they all held onto their beliefs that all men should be allowed to live free. They did not feel that their sacrifice was in vain, they knew that there would be men to follow. They would take up the gauntlet and continue to carry the fight forward to the bastards.

Anything would be better than living on your knees, it was unclear if they originally took the quote from Roosevelt, or from Zapata. For in later years both quotes would be used by Texans if The Quest for freedom were to ever again arise.

Emiliano Zapata: Men of the South! It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt: We too, born to freedom, and believing in freedom, are willing to maintain freedom. We, and all others who believe as deeply as we do, would rather die on our feet than live on our knees.

Men and women that were not part of the actual army went to work daily. They also did what they could to help the Texas forces. Many worked reloading, others mended uniforms and tents. If there was work to be done. . . a Texan was busy doing it.

They wanted their freedom, and they had to help in some way to fight for it. Mostly it was the elderly that had stayed behind, any person over a certain age was in some way a soldier for Texas.

They did so with honor and pride. They had a dream, and though it would be short lived. . . the fires would never die. Freedom is never free, If blood be tbe price of admiralty, If blood be tbe price of admiralty, If blood be the price of admiralty, Lord God, we ha' bought it fair! Thank you Mr. Kipling

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Randy shook his head sadly, as he listened to the tape with the security team. “Goddamn merciless bastard! You hunt him down and bring him back alive. Gather up those of his team, and find out the truth. . . I don’t care what methods you use.”

The security team quickly jumped to their feet, and left the tent almost stumbling over each other. “I have never seen him so pissed.” a young man said as he tried to light a cigarette with very shaky hands.

“Son. That ain’t nothing. Wait, til we bring that bastard in, cause when a man is yelling mad, a person might stand a chance. But when a man becomes silent, and turns all ice-cold inside, then a person ain’t got a prayer and you might need to start to worry.”

“Is he close to that point now?”

“A Good Texas Two Step Away.”

“Duncan screwed up when he killed Lenny, is Randy gonna save him for when Dobs returns?”

The older man smiled, “Vengeance for Lenny, is that what you think Dobs would want?”

The young man was thoughtful for a moment. He wanted to answer the question correctly and not appear to be a fool. “Those of us that have chosen to follow Dobs know the risks. Dobs and the other leaders must maintain discipline, and even may have to appear to be uncaring, when they obviously have other feelings on the matter. In the matter of Lenny: Dobs would want us all to know exactly what his feelings are on the subject.”

There was now a small gathering around the young man. “What would those feelings be?” a woman asked.

“That while we may all know the risks, there is a difference in dying in battle, and a cold blooded murder. Whether he’s here to see the justice or not, he’d want us to carry on with our usual SOP. . . We Fry The Fucker!”

The crowd murmured softly then cheered loudly.

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The older men smiled. “I’d say he got it right on the first try.”

“Exactly.”

“Absolutely.”

Randy stood back and listened to the exchange of the men. He let them vent their anger, knowing that it was what was needed at the time. The new kid was trying very hard to be accepted.

The young man knew the score, and had it pegged just about right. The long weeks had turned to even longer months, had turned many of the team to ice. The kid was even colder at times.

He had guts and was already a good leader, he just needed more confidence. Put him around people in his own age bracket and he did well, but around older people. . . “Matt will grow out of it, I’d bet my life on it.”

The boy had a family in the making, and this war wouldn’t last forever. Then he could settle down, and just be a husband and dad.

The Quest

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was the weirdest sensation I’d ever experienced in my life. It was like I’d come off of a very long drinking binge. The scent of sex still hung heavily to my clothing, and I honestly think that Ann felt the same way as I did.

“We need to get cleaned up and move out.” I said. “You go first.”

“Maybe we should go together, to make sure it worked.” she said doing her best to avoid my eyes.

“Ann sooner or later you’re going to have to look at me.” Even as I said the words, I once again had that odd feeling that I was trapped in the middle of one of those sick pervert books.

“What if it didn’t work Dobs? How long can any man resist a delicious piece of candy?”

“Is that what it’s being called these days?” I asked.

She blushed and turned her back to me, “I was trying to make a point Dobs. It was a metaphor.”

“Let’s get cleaned up, we have a few days of travel ahead of us.” I said with a shake of my head. Women. . . I’ll never understand them if I live to be a thousand. I heard the convoy of trucks and turned and saw Robert and several other men and women pulling up.

“Should have known it was a woman.” Robert said with a smile.

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I went to the man and shook hands with him, and then took him by the arm away

from the group. “Robert you remember how you taught me about honor and all that other stuff?”

“Yeah, of course. That’s how you got into all this.”

“No. . . I think that part was predestined.” I then told him of what had happened all those years ago, and brought him up to date of what had happened since.

“You’re kidding me right? No. . . you’re not kidding, you wouldn’t kid about something like this. Worse things could have been done to you. Lots of people are just going to be glad, to know that you’re alive.”

“We have to be sure though Robert.”

“Of course can’t have you attacking each other.” he turned his head and fought the urge to smile.

“I’m pleased to see that you can find humor in this.”

“I’m sorry Dobs, I really am. But who would ever have thought that anyone, would ever come up with such a plan? To magnify a person’s. . . sex drive and then use it as a weapon.”

“The goddamn government!”

“It’s a proven fact: That men and women once past a certain age can control those urges. As teens they generally succumb to the primal urges and. . .”

“Robert I already know all about that, now I really need to know, with the information I’ve given you will this work?”

“Very little is known about the mind, but if they can put a program in, then yes they’d have to have put a backdoor in. A safety net so to speak, then-they can release the subject, and walk away clean. Thus leaving the subject to face responsibility for their actions alone.”

I stood there for a moment as some dark thought tried to work it’s way forward. It seemed that it was hitting a block. “Robert what could they program a person to do? Anything. . . that they normally wouldn’t do?”

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“Like I said very little is known about the human mind. If the programing is powerful enough, then-yes they could have the subject do almost anything.”

I was getting a bit perturbed and Robert knew it.

“I keep almost getting this. . . thought to complete itself. But then it hits a stonewall and then. . . it’s gone. Robert. . . the Book people are. . .” a sharp pain rammed into my eyes. “Book People are. . .” a sharp pain shot through my head. It felt as though, a very large sharp needle, was being rammed into the back of my head.

Robert reached out and took hold of my arm, “The Book People are what Dobs?”

“Huh? What the hell are you talking about?” The pain in my head increased and tried to drive me to my knees.

“You spoke of those, you called The Book People.”

My heart began to race, and I felt a blind panic. “I can’t talk of them Robert. They’ll come for me. . . they’ll come for everyone I have ever loved. They’ll either kill them, or take them away. Nobody ever returns when they come for them.”

“Are they the ones that did this to you?”

“Yeah. They wanted me and Ann to. . . to do it. We somehow were able to fight. They don’t much like it when one of us can actually resist. We found the secret again. . . Robert. . . Jesus Christ! The pain is growing worse.”

“Okay-little brother, let’s talk of something else.”

“What? What can we talk of that will be safe?”

“How about Borga?”

The pain was almost blinding, and I grabbed out in an attempt to avoid falling. I felt a set of very strong hands take hold of me, and ease me to the ground.

I heard a familiar voice strong with emotion as it called out. Then the voice seemed to be speaking to me. “Hang on buddy! We’ll figure this out, I fucking swear to it.”

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Robert then used his radio, and I could make out the words evac and chopper. I don’t know how long I lay there, but I was aware of the men that suddenly began to work on me.

I opened my eyes at one point and saw the sad eyes of Ann, I tried to speak, but I couldn’t get the words to form on my lips.

“Snail Tim Nutting.” I shook my head knowing that my words had come out wrong. I had to try again. “Snail Nutting.”

“What is he trying to say?” Ann asked, as she took hold of my hand. Her eyes pleading with me to fight.

“Not sure. He’s suffered a stroke of some sort.”

“Is he going to make it?” Ann asked.

The two medics looked at each other, and refused to comment.

“Goddamnit! I asked you a question. Is he going to make it?”

“We don’t know Lady. Please go up front, sit down and let us do our work. If he has a chance, it stands with us doing our job, not talking to you.”

Ann left me and I could hear her talking to Robert. “It did work, but only to a point. I still love him. . . even after all these years I still love him. He was a hero even back then, a leader, they couldn’t take that from him or make me not love him.”

“Of course they couldn’t Ann, he’ll find his way back, then we’ll find all their dark little secrets. Then the payback begins.”

I closed my eyes and saw June’s face, and I felt at peace.

The forces of Borga was sent to take out the families in the area known as Valle Ov El Perdido*. Their main objective was kill Robert Allen Macalister. Make his death long and loud.

While you’re at it take out those families who has land that surround the Macalister’s. They've started ordering us off their land, don’t they know that we’re above the law?

*Valley of the lost

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The several families, whose homes surrounded Rob Macalister’s knew that the only hope for their survival, was to join forces. It was either that or die.

Among the first to realize that there was strength in numbers was the Wolfe family. They saw the forces coming straight at them from the river and they knew that they were in for a bad time. There hadn’t been any rain for several days and the river bed was dry. They were also vulnerable from the south end as well as the west. Up until a few months ago that would have been unlikely. The family that had once owned that land, was a very unruly bunch. The middle son especially.

They didn’t hold with trespassing, and unless you were a friend (Which many were not) you trespassed if you put one foot on their land. You were met with cold stares and pistols. That middle son was one man that was born a hundred years too late. He’d just as soon fight you as look at you. He was fast with a pistol and was very deadly. He may not have been the smartest one of the bunch, but he was the one

the one you’d want to have on your side, if or when the shit-storm ever hit.

Kendall was well hidden as he watched the hills, and as much of the lower valley as possible. He froze for a moment, was that a movement in the valley? He watched the area and nothing moved.

His eyes scanned the area and he caught the movement, somebody was trying to make their way to them. It may be one of the German’s men, or it could be somebody needing help.

He heard the soft whisper of footsteps. “It’s started. Borga has declared all out war on certain people and their families.” Emily whispered softly.

“Kinda figured it would go that way.” Kendall whispered.

“There have been several confirmed kills Kendall, entire families have been wiped out. Children and even the family pets. Of course the press is calling it a series of tragic accidents.”

“To do otherwise would mark them for death as well. Go tell my Dad that we’re about to have company, and tell Macalister to get his family into the shelter.”

Emily didn’t waste time asking fool questions, she left quickly and quietly.

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Whoever it was trying to get to us, were about to be in a bad way. Kendall had spotted at least four men trying to close in.

In a matter of minutes the men of Perdido Valle were ready for war. They’d not asked for this little war, they’d not asked for this German fucker to come to their country. But by God they were going to end it.

This was their country, and they weren’t going to give it up to Borga or anybody else. Texas was the rebel state, and they were going to live up to the codename given to them and their state.

Be it in Texas or any of the other forty-nine states, those with any sense, know that you can’t always just sit back just waiting for help that may never come.

Sometimes you have to fight to save your own ass. All the bullshit legalities be damned. Yeah, you can do that, or resign yourself to being forever fucked.

The policy of the United States is: Never to give in to the demands of terrorists. This was a direct threat and it was going to spill over, and very soon every American would suffer.

It was up to the small handful of Texans to once again fight for freedom. To carry on the same beliefs as the Founding Fathers of Texas had began. There was to be one big exception in this battle: If they were to loose. . . the entire country was fucked. There was to be no quarter shown for the enemy, or asked for by their fellow combatants.

If you’re the enemy then you should prepare for your own death. Take up arms against the Texans then you are the enemy, and no self-respecting Texan would ever allow you to live.

Face it Shithead: You’re History. The law may not be able to do shit to you. But the citizens can sure as hell deal with you.

Your cowardly Diplomatic Immunity is not recognized by the people of America. You come here with intent to do harm to their country and you will be met with lead and sabers. They will either send you to hell or back to wherever the hell you came from. Best get packing asshole.

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Bill Williams along with several other officers had left their badges behind. This was not a legal police operation, this was now junkyard dog rules, and the very biggest meanest dog wins.

The German’s forces was attacking certain families in small numbers, the people were dying, and nobody was doing a goddamn thing to stop it. Many of the officers had just flat refused to show up for duty.

They weren’t cowards, they had not been targeted by Borga, nor had their families. They stayed home and kept their heads down. They moved their pets inside, and just hoped for the best. Hoped that their Brothers would understand.

Understand that they had also sworn to love, honor and protect their families. How can you leave your family, when your child is crying because he’s scared? Your wife is trying to be brave, but you can clearly see the fear in her eyes. To hell with it.

If they want your badge after this, then they can have it. Your family comes first man. Why should you go out there and risk your neck, for a bunch of maggots that call you Pig, and all sorts of other vile crap?

Go ahead and say it.

Kiss My Ass.

Bill didn’t feel anger toward those, that had not shown up for duty. His family was safe, and he was alone, if he died then it would just be him. But he wasn’t going to die. He was going to live long after this mess was over with. He’d survived too many other conflicts to be done in by a shithead like Borga.

Things are never as bad as they seem to be, even Boris had changed, and Brenda had gone back to him. He’d cleaned up his act, and they’d even given him his badge back.

Stan had left the force a few months after his wife had been killed. Things hadn’t been as bright and rosy in their marriage as everybody thought. Both had their faults, and had agreed to end the marriage.

He did grieve over the death, he wasn’t totally heartless. He just didn’t

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love her the way a man should love his wife. He’d thought for certain, that he was going to live the remainder of his life alone, then that Russian woman showed up.

Bill was suspicious of her from the start, and ran several background checks on her. He finally hit pay dirt, he took the information to Stan.

Stan had of course confronted her and she leveled with him. Okay-he to had done some things he wasn’t too proud of. He could get pass her past deeds, but she must never again lie to him, and she had to tell him everything. Old things needed to find closure.

Bill firmly believed that it was to be a very short lived love affair. He felt that there was something even darker in her past. New things were beginning, and right now he felt. . . alone.

The Quest

Chapter Twenty-Three

Who was he to interfere anyway? He had done exactly what any true friend should do. . . and now the rest was up to Stan. He had gone to see Boris several times and found that the man was actually very likeable.

They’d spoken several times, and had sworn to the other that if the worst should happen the survivor would protect the other’s family.

Bill actually felt better after making the pact with Boris. The man was a mountain, and had more than his share of guts. Neither man would ever just roll over and give up. But the odds did have a very shitty way of changing without notice. Now it was time to go and take out the trash.

Boris had done his best to change, he loved Brenda and his son Brandon. Brenda, had told him that she was pregnant with their next child, and he was very pleased.

He’d opened the bottle and poured them both a tall glass of the chilled beverage. “Relax baby, it’s apple juice. I gave you my word, and this time, I plan on keeping it. I’ve been sober for almost two months.”

A little lie, but she didn’t have to know.

“I’m proud of you Boris.”

“When this problem is over and done with, I want to start working on certain little projects. This has got me to thinking that the shit can hit at any time, our family will survive.”

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Brenda smiled admiration shining in her eyes. Boris had done a one-eighty, and if he stayed clean and sober, they’d have a very long life together.

“What kind of projects?”

“I’m not real sure I can explain them accurately, I’ve heard about them over the years, it will have to be done on the Q.T. But trust me in the end it will all make perfect sense.”

It kinda irritated her when he did that, he’d start a conversation then he’d pull that crap, “You wouldn’t be able to understand it, I’m not sure I can explain it accurately.” Simple translation: You’re a woman and you’re not smart enough to understand.

Here’s one that needs no translation: Fuck You Boris. You sorry son of a bitch. . . you’ll never change.

“I know what you’re thinking Brenda, and baby you’re wrong. I may be able to explain the purpose of what I’m wanting, but I don’t know how to build them. This will have to be done very quietly, and over the course of the next dozen or so years.”

“Then give it your best shot, I just may surprise you.”

Boris took a deep breath and did a slow five count, he had to try to learn to control his temper. The department’s shrink had told him that. If he wanted to stay a cop. . . he had to learn. If he wanted to hold on to his family he had to learn.

Maybe-later he could slip away for a drink, to one of the bunkers that had already been built. He had a bottle of Russian vodka hidden there. “Okay, here goes.” he said with a smile.

Boris was in no way a genius level anything, he had his own ideas of how things should be, and that was that. At times he came across as a complete jerk, because he had the idea that his thoughts were the only ones that should ever be considered as logical. His thoughts on law was what was to be considered legal no matter what. Yeah Boris Stokes was a jerk.

To be blunt he was a complete asshole.

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Bo Stokes slowly looked around at the surroundings before he climbed down from the train. He was the family’s only outcast, unless you count the member that was hung in the late 1800's for murder.

A crime he did not commit.

He’d known all along who had done the deed, but went to his death with a curse on his lips. Knowing that his sister would be safe. Knowing that if the only so-called witness were to speak up after his death, it would mean a noose around his own neck.

Beaumont Stokes died at the age of forty, leaving behind a wife and a son. The son grew to manhood married and had a son. He took one look at his son and gave him the name Beaumont.

“Why would you name him after an outlaw?” His wife had asked.

“Number one: He wasn’t an outlaw, he died because of a lie. His sister killed that banker’s son. The Bastard had raped her and Beaumont showed up after the fact. He heard the two shots and ran inside the house, saw his sister huddled on the floor naked with a gun in her hand.”

“Why didn’t they just tell the truth?”

“Because the sister and the son, had been seeing each other. The entire town knew it. The banker wanted the land and felt if they were to marry, the land would soon become his, if something tragic were to happen to her. He later sent his two sons to deal with sealing the fate.

Susan learned the truth and ordered them off her land. The brothers felt they had nothing to loose, so they were going to rape her. Only one had managed to do that.”

“The other bastard ran, while Beaumont got her out of there, and the law showed up and arrested him, then tried and convicted him. He kept his mouth shut to protect Susan from hanging and the fact that she’d been raped.”

“Yes. My grandfather was a very honorable man.” her husband said with a smile on his lips.

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“Okay-what gives? Tell it all now buster!”

“All that is true. The rape and who actually killed the banker’s son the trial everything.” he chuckled softly. “But what isn’t known is this little fact: Susan and two of her cousins broke Beaumont out of jail at the last minute. They beat the shit out of the other brother, chained and gagged him and put the hood over his head.

Two well known Marshals explained that because of his cursing and spitting had forced them to gag him. No need for all to see that, they had to work him over so. . . they had gone ahead and put the hood on as well.”

“They hung the banker’s son!”

“Yeah. They hung the bastard. Nobody ever asked why the son wasn’t at the hanging. They all felt that he just couldn’t face the fact his brother was dead.”

“How do you know all this?” his wife had asked suspiciously.

“We’d go and visit relatives, and I’d sit and listen for hours to one tell stories.” again the smile.

“I hate it when you smile like that. Tell it mister!”

“Tell what dear? Tell you that the old man, that told me the stories was Beaumont Stokes. Yeah, I grew up hearing real stories from a real live gunfighter. He had other sons from other women who had taken his name. Chances are there are many of his descendants all over.”

“Tell me about it Pop.” Bo muttered bitterly. “Some real low class, and some that are just pure ass.” I’m the black sheep of the Stokes’s family and yet I’ve never been in jail, I work from place to place. I don’t want to put down any roots. Who the fuck needs em?

He’d heard about the branch of the Stokes family that lived outside of Channing. He’d also heard of the trouble that had been brewing. Like his great grandfather he had a skill, but he’d never hire out that skill to family.

He wasn’t a lowlife.

But if he could just get a roof over his head, maybe three square meals, he’d

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work sunup to sundown for them. If needed he’d use that skill to cull the herd down. Blood being thicker than water.

Besides he’d heard about the German, and none of what he’d heard was to his liking. Drugs and prostitution? What kind of a sick fucker forces kids into that?

A goddamn lowlife. He smiled as he answered his own question.

He was thirty years old, and after his parents were killed he just started drifting. Anything was better than boarding school, or living with that one aunt.

Woman always smelled like mothballs and stale whiskey.

He lived with her one week, and then left. The woman was just too gross. She’d walk down the hall and fart and dribble. She’d always do this when he had friends over to study. And once when he had a girl over. Old hag was suppose to be at Beulah’s snapping peas, and canning pickled okra. Came home to see if he wanted to go over and watch them.

Yeah right, like any kid would ever want to do that.

There was an invention called toilet paper, but she always insisted on using corncobs. Then the night she got into the shower with him to conserve water was it man.

She was just three hundred pounds of wrinkles. Absolutely gross. He ran screaming from the stall, peeing himself as he ran down the hall into his room. He quickly dressed then packed and left.

He shook his head and smiled at the woman, that stood before him. “Lost in very deep thought, I’ve been talking to you for ten minutes.” the woman said sarcastically.

“After the first two, you should have taken the hint.”

“I never.”

“Probably never will, I know you won’t with me.” Bo said with a smile. Jeeze, what a town. Just hit town and already some bitch is talking garbage.

“My husband, will settle this.” the woman shouted angrily as she stormed away.

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“Best hurry down that aisle lady, you ain’t getting any prettier, and the clock is still ticking.”

The large officer that walked up to him shook his head sadly. This was the part of the job he hated most. The guy was just a drifter, and probably a real nice guy. But when the mayor’s wife is mayor is unhappy and everybody else is unhappy.

“Son can I see some identification please.” Bill asked.

“Sure officer.” Bo replied, as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Lady, you exchanged words with is the mayor’s wife. I know her and I know she probably insulted you first. Hell-I know she did. But. . .”

“There a law against freedom of speech in this town officer? Is this town above the constitution. Did I make a wrong turn, and somehow wind up in some other country?”

Bill wanted to smile and laugh, there was something about this guy, that made him want to just walk away. “Beaumont Stokes. You any kin to the Stokes’s family that lives near here?”

“That’s why I’m here to find that out if I am, and hopefully they’ll need a hand on the ranch, I’d like to hire on. If I may.” Bo held up his hand and slowly reached into his inside coat pocket, and pulled out a little black book.

Bill could see that it was worn from years of use.

“Boris and Brenda Stokes. An aunt told me that they lived near here, and that they should be the only Boris and Brenda in the area. But I’ve heard that one before with other names.”

“They’ll be the only ones. Tell you what. . . why don’t I give you a ride out to their place. Keep the dragon bitch off your ass for a little while longer.”

“Sure, it’s no bother.”

“None at all. Besides it’ll keep the mayor off my ass for a good hour or two. We're suppose to arrest anybody, that gives Precious a hard time.”

“Precious? Is that an endearment, or is that her name?”

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Both men got into Bill's unit, and Bill resisted the urge to laugh, “When she was born and about three hundred fifty pounds ago, her father took one look at her and gave her that name.”

Bo did an all over body shiver.

“You okay?”

“Yeah she reminds me of an aunt I used to have. Maybe that’s why I was so sarcastic to her. I do that sometimes without meaning to.”

“It’s something to do with repressed memories. Did she abuse you in some way?”

Bo seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, “Yeah-she was one sick bitch. One extremely very Large sick bitch.”

Bill arched an eyebrow. Maybe this guy was a fruit-loop. Why didn’t he do a pat down before doing this?

“You were saying about your aunt.”

“She was just twisted, I don’t think she ever had a man look at her twice. I swear she had to weigh close to three hundred pounds. She used corncobs to wipe her ass.”

Bill turned and looked at the man to see if he could detect any deceit. He couldn’t.

“After my parents were killed in a car wreck I was sent to live with her. I was twelve. I was there maybe a week, and I was taking a shower. She comes and gets in with me. . . scared the piss out of me literally. I ran down the hall got dressed packed and left.”

Bill slowed down and pulled over, Bo’s first thought was that he was about to be put out. That the cop thought he was a nutcase. Bill started laughing, and opened the door and had to get out of his unit.

Oh fucking great! I finally tell the story, and the guy-a cop I tell it to laughs his goddamn ass off.

Bill walked around his unit several times trying to compose himself. He’d

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catch sight of Bo and he’d start laughing again. He finally got a grip on himself and got back into his unit. “Sorry but I can just see you running down the hall leaving a trail. Your aunt yelling: I need you to shave my armpits junior, mama is very pleased to have you here.”

Bo sat there for a minute thinking that the cop was a nutcase. Why did he accept this ride? Why didn’t he take a better look at the name tag?

Bill went into another laughing spree, and Bo just shook his head, and muttered a low curse. The humor of the words were still taunting him, and he finally gave in and joined Bill’s laughter.

The Quest

Chapter Twenty-Four

Both men were more relaxed after the laughter ended. Bill found out that the man wasn’t all that much older than he was. He also learned just by listening, that the man also shared many of his own views concerning the law.

“When did you find out about the gunfighter being in your family?” Bill asked. Boris had told him the story as far as he knew it. Meaning the story from the history books.

“I guess from the time I was old enough to understand. I always wanted to be a gunman. I wanted to be just like my grandfather. You know one of the good guys. You can imagine my disappointment when I learned that would be impossible.”

“How old were you?”

Bo smiled mischievously, “Quite a blow, it was just last year.”

Bill turned his head sharply, “What!”

“Just kidding.” Bo replied, quickly realizing that with this officer you didn’t spring things on him, while he was driving a lot of curves.

Almost made him leave a trail in his seat.

“I was ten.”

“You’re a Stokes alright, you’ve got that same wicked sense of humor.”

“I hope that’s a compliment.”

Bill remained silent as he turned off the paved road. “Boris had a drinking

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problem, I hope he really did get it under control. He damn near lost everything, his badge, his family. . . everything. If he starts up again, don’t try to be a hero, don’t get creative. You call the station, and tell them you need help, and what is wrong.”

“I’ve been around those types before. . . I have no desire to try to be a hero. I’ll just be me.”

Bill noticed the hard glint in the man’s eyes, and for a moment he thought of aborting the idea of hooking Bo up with Boris. No, he won’t do anything stupid. He seems to have a good head on his shoulders. He isn’t the type.

Just what is the type, the usual silent voice asked. Anybody can loose control and kill. Remember that one kid?

Yeah he remembered. The two friends that were just horsing around. They’d been drinking and one got mad, in one rapid moment one buddy lay dead, his neck at a funny angle.

Then the manhunt began.

He didn’t want to go to prison for an accident, but of course the law had other ideas. Two years later they’d tracked him to a cabin up into the mountains of New Mexico. The rambunctious group of lawmen, then blew the cabin up and claimed that they got him. But, there was always just something very fishy about that whole story. Another one of those cases where deals were made. . .

The large house suddenly loomed up before the two men. “He build this himself?” Bo asked, thinking that the place looked like Norman Bates’s house.

“Uh-yeah mostly I guess.” Bill replied as he gave the horn three short blasts. The house was even creepy to him.

Boris came out and stood for a moment, then smiled. “Come on in Bill. We got the coffee on.”

“Wait here a minute.” Bill said in a low voice. He got out of his unit and approached the large man. “Is everything okay Boris? Brenda and Brandon okay?”

“Yeah-Bill all is well. If you don’t believe me go on in. . . if you don’t

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trust me you can cuff me to something.”

Bo watched very confused.

Brenda chose that time to come outside, Brandon close behind her. Bill walked over to the woman, “You and Brandon okay?”

“Yeah,” Brenda replied with a puzzled look. “Everything is going pretty good these days. He hasn’t had a drop and we’re talking more, he really is trying Bill. He can still be an asshole at times, but he was that way before I married him.”

Bill smiled and felt relief wash over him. Had there been one mark on Brenda or the child, he’d have arrested Boris on the spot. He’d heard it all, “Officer, I’m clumsy that’s all. I slipped and he tried to catch me and popped me under the eye.”

How can a woman ever make excuses for a bastard like that?

Love, blind loyalty?

Yeah-he could see how a woman, could feel those emotions for the man that did those things to her.

“Boris got a guy here with the same last name as you, he checks out. Needs a job for awhile, and I remembered you saying that you were going to be doing some things around your place.”

“What’s his name?”

Bill smiled “Beaumont Stokes. Prefers to be called Bo though, pretty good size ole boy. I’d adhere to that request.”

“Bring him on and I’ll decide later on if I’m to hire him, if I don’t like him, I’ll send Beaumont packing.”

Bill rolled his eyes. Boris was going to be an asshole, he could feel it. Bo would try really hard to take as much as he could and then. . . Boris would push the right button.

Bill motioned for Bo and gave a silent prayer. Bo stepped out of the unit and walked up to Boris. He stood a head taller and was in much better shape than Boris.

“Boris Stokes.” Boris replied as he offered his hand.

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“Bo Stokes.”

“Not exactly true is it? Bill, told me your name is Beaumont.”

“It is, I’ve introduced myself as Bo for so many years it’s a habit. But yes, my Christian name is Beaumont.”

“You ashamed of that name, or is it the name Stokes?”

Bo looked first at Bill, then at Brenda. He knew that Boris was trying to bait him, and he wasn’t going to bite. “Neither. I’ve made my own way in life. People find it hard to believe that I’m named after a notorious gunfighter, much less that he was my grandfather.”

Boris smiled, he could understand that. He’d come across men with the same name as a low-life, and they’d taken some variation of the name. “I guess I’d do the same, if I was named after that sorry ass bastard.”

Bo felt the muscles in his neck tighten. This was a very bad mistake, this man was dangerous. He wore a badge, and he was a bully and a coward. He was a wife beater, and in time would probably seriously abuse his children.

“Bill this just isn’t going to work out.” Bo said in a calm voice. If you’d just get me back to the highway, I’ll leave this area of Texas.”

Boris laughed, and Bo knew that the laugh was taunting him to do something stupid. He’d done some foolish things in his life, but he wasn’t that stupid.

“I think that would be best.” Bill replied honestly.

Brenda stepped forward, “Bo please forgive Boris, he’s an asshole and he wears it like a badge of honor. There are somethings that need doing around here, and if you don’t mind working for a woman. . . Boris knows where he stands on certain matters, and what will happen if he crosses me.”

Bo smiled and started to step forward. “Boy, you think twice before taking her offer. This is my land, it’s in my name. She has no claim to anything out here. Besides only a complete idiot would ever work for a woman.”

Bill looked up at the sky, thinking you put your foot in it this time Boris. Best shut the hell up buddy.

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“Where do I put my gear ma’am? Be glad to be working for you.”

Boris walked off rather quickly, Bo noted the fact that the man looked as though he were pouting.

“It isn’t much but there’s a room in the barn off to the right.”

“Long as I’m out of the weather, is all that counts.”

“That fucker won’t last,” Boris muttered hotly. “his kind never does, I’ll run his ass til he drops.”

Brenda smiled, and gave Bill a wink, and mouthed, Thank You.

The orders were sent out, and the band of Texans, could almost hear Borga laughing at them. The reports were coming in faster than they could read them. Posts were just suddenly going silent. People that they’d thought would be their best hope were now confirmed as dead.

Members of the Wolfe family were confirmed as dead. James and Jenny Killed while on patrol. A large number of men lay in ambush and had killed the husband and wife.

Rockne Walker along with, Zeke and Zack, were killed during an attack, only days after joining the Macalister’s survival group. Joe Macalister and his young bride Lydia, were caught in an ambush.

Jeff Leighmon and Simone were cut to ribbons by machine gun fire. That loss hit hard, and they knew that Dobs would want everything from justice to vengeance done.

Justice being in the heart of the wounded.

Randy Baker was killed when his CP was blown up in a cowardly night raid. Carol Wilson was killed and her body burned beyond recognition. Bill became silent and very withdrawn, and deadly.

Robert Clary and his wife Sara were both killed by a car bomb, the perp and his three man team were caught and shot on the spot. Lyle Clary boldly bragged of their deed, and was quite insistent to the very end, to be addressed by his proper

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title.

He received a “Fuck You!” and a well placed 22 to the back of the head. His team’s throats were cut. So much for titles.

Ann sat silently in the waiting room, introductions were not needed, she knew who the woman with the child was. The woman had an aura about her.

June stepped into the room, her son was sleeping in the hospital nursery. “Ann.”

Ann quickly got to her feet, “How is he?”

“Resting. The FEDS have their top teams studying his blood, and it looks hopeful. One had said that he recognized the culture whatever that is exactly.”

Ann smiled and sat down and took hold of her hand, to hide the fact that it was shaking, like a leaf in a hurricane.

“They need to get a sample of your blood, I understand that they did the same

thing to you.”

“Will it help Dobs. . . or is it to just check me out?”

“Both. . . Ann, whatever happened wasn’t real, it was a program. One of those FEDS said that it was like a computer program. I never knew they could get a computer to do anything like that. But all it was. . . was a program. They said his mind shut down because he resisted and it was like his mind blew a chip.”

Wasn’t real? Dobs was a hero even back then-before they did the programing. He was a rebel long before those butchers ever got hold of him. They simply enhanced what was already there. He made love to her, because he wanted to.

“I suppose you’re right. It just felt very real at the time. It was him that came up with a way to fight. I just thought that you’d want to know that.”

Why did she say that?

She knew the answer. Because she loved Dobs Macalister and she knew that he loved only this woman. He could never love her, it was all a lie. What they had wasn’t real, and never could be. That was why he was here-in this hospital.

He fought so hard not to do, what the programing told him, that his mind and

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body had shut down. Why? Was she that hard to love? She felt the buzzing return, and the room began to spin and blur. She calmly stood up and started to walk away.

“Ann you don’t have to leave, they say he’ll be awake very shortly. It’ll be okay if you want to see him.”

“I don’t need your goddamn permission for that! If I want to see him I will. . . if I want to go in for one last ride I will.” Ann slowly put her hand to her head, as the pain shot through her skull. “I’m sorry. I don’t know-why I said all that.” Ann shook her head like a big shaggy dog, and rushed from the room.

June jumped to her feet and rushed after the woman. It’s the programing, she reminded herself. She’s resisting and the same thing is happening to her. If she knew for certain it was anything but. . . she’d kill the woman in a heartbeat. She had to protect Dobs and their son Bill.

Yes, by all means, Billy had to be protected, none of this horror could ever be allowed to touch him. It must be put to rest forever.

Billy must not grow up in this way of life. But still she noticed things.

Young Billy. His eyes already held a wildness, and his little twisted smile, spoke of a future that would be filled with mayhem. Just like his father. Would this war still be going on when Billy, grew up? Would he have to also join in the same fight?

Somehow she knew that young Billy’s war, would be completely different. She stopped and looked around. Ann had vanished and there was no way in hell, she was going to pursue her. She’d get word to the base and let them know about her.

She’d heard about the deaths, and the vengeance extracted by those that followed Dobs Macalister. The bastard that had killed Lenny was still at large, but it would just be a matter of time. Their people were the absolute best, and they never gave up.

The FEDS were even on their side, which was weird enough. She thought they were only on their own side. They were fighting harder than ever to help Dobs. It was almost as though. . . he was the key to some deep dark secret.

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She went to the nursery, and stood silently watching her son as he lay in the bed. He was a good baby, and rarely even cried. When he was hungry, he’d just give a look like he was trying to say, “Feed me now, or there will be trouble.”

Dobs would get a kick out of that one, she thought for a moment then went to her child. “Let’s go see Daddy. Hell, they’ve tried everything else. What could it possibly hurt?”

Billy Macalister chose that time to kick and smile excitedly.

The Quest

Chapter Twenty-Five

What could possible be about to happen, that could possible devastate the entire Country? That was the only clue. Gerald Smyth shook his head and tossed his glasses onto his desk, he was a journalist not a detective.

The rules were clear: Do not involve the police or any federal agencies. You do and it will be you that suffers the tragedy. The voice that spoke to him had a German accent, and he wasn’t anybody’s fool. He knew of the little war between that German and the Texans.

If he were a few years younger he’d be there fighting in that war himself. He’d covered other such stories, from a conservative view point and was branded as a traitor by other reporters.

Perhaps a bomb in a certain place? The pentagon, the White House? No. Wait just a damn minute. The president. They’re Going To Kill The President! Remember: Devastation of the entire nation. Kill him in front of millions. A televised murder.

Jesus H Christ!

The war with the Texans was simply a smoke screen. Get the President to come to Texas, in a desperate plea for Macalister to end the war, and then kill him in front of millions. But of course the rest of America would never know the true reason as to why the president was really in Texas.

No one knew for certain what was really taking place. Those Texas press morons, had stopped reporting about the war long ago, so naturally the rest of

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America, just assumed it had ended. It was getting to be old news anyway.

The phone rang and he silenced it on the third ring. “Smyth.”

“Have you figured it out yet?”

“I’m closing in, you guys are slick, I’ll give you that. You don’t give a person much to work with.”

“How Hard Can It Be To Figure Out?” the voice shouted, the pitch rising in anger. “Devastation! We’re going to fucking kill. . . oh-ho-ho clever, but you already had it didn’t you?”

“Just trying for confirmation.” Gerald replied as he quickly wrote down his suspicions. He had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to live throughout the night. He quickly folded the paper and put it inside his inside breast pocket of his jacket.

“Have you soiled yourself yet?” the voice asked followed by the usual sarcastic laughter. It was as evil sounding as any sound he’d ever heard

Gerald’s own voice went stone cold as he spoke, “Little bit advice shithead: Why. . . Don’t. . . You. . . Go. . . And. . . Suck. . . Your Mother’s. . . Ass.”

The laughter stopped.

“Knowing your intent on making this work, how long do I have to get out of here?”

“Ten Seconds. Clock starts, the moment you stand up, been a good game Smyth. See you in hell.” The connection was broke.

Gerald looked at the door and then down at the chair. There was no way in hell, that he was going to get out in time. He was going to die, the president was going to die, and those German Fuckers were going to win.

A hopeful smile slowly spread across his lips.

Not very bright, for a group of asswipes, that are planning on killing our president. He thought as he used his feet to roll the chair toward the door.

He slowly opened the door, and wheeled himself out into the hall. “Now all I have to do, is go through life in this goddamn chair. Wouldn’t be so bad if Alice,

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had got me the color I’d requested.” He grimaced at his attempt at humor.

If he let the pressure get to him, he’d need a fresh pair of pants. Sadly his spare pair was in his office closet. Screw that.

As he looked out into the hall, he took a deep breath and wondered if he’d told his wife, just how much he really does love her that morning before he left for work.

He crossed himself even though he wasn’t Catholic, and jumped to his feet and ran down the hall and dove out the window. He hit the parked car, and felt the air leave him, in a heavy whoosh. His mind wanting his mouth to shout out: “I beat you motherfucker!”

The explosion rocked the entire building, and his body obeyed but one order. He quickly rolled off of the car, his body hitting the ground hard, as he then rolled over and over, out of the way of the falling debris.

He lay in the alley his mind trying desperately, to accept the fact that he was still alive. He began to laugh as he got to his feet. “Beat you Motherfucker.” He looked up at what was left of his office building, and shook his head.

He knew that he needed to get to the FEDS, and to get a call to his wife. The moment she heard about this, it could cause her to have a heart attack. That was meant literally. She had weak heart, and that was why he’d gone on to reporting the news rather than making it.

She was one of those rare special women, that would come along but once in a lifetime. She’d saved him from the biggest threat he’d ever known.

Himself.

He’d been borderline alcoholic, and it seemed that he had a death wish. He was a high-risk taker, and did whatever he could to avoid being robbed by the shitheads.

One would be robber actually had a gun to his head, and told him: “I’m gonna kill you. Don’t matter if you give me the money or not. . . I never liked you, and I never will.”

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Gerald gut shot him through the counter.

The store had six customers inside and they all said the same thing: Gerald turned ice cold when he spoke the words: “Why wait shithead? Just do it, don’t just fucking talk about it. Do it. You ain’t got no fucking balls without that gun.”

The sound of the hammer being cocked backed caused them all to jump. Then the

explosive sound, and then there was the sudden sound of a body hitting a display, followed by the shrill screaming of the would be robber.

The customers all in unison found their courage, looked up and saw Gerald, standing behind the counter with a pistol. His eyes dry ice cold. They all told the police that. . . That was when they were the most frightened.

The robber lay screaming for help, and Gerald calmly opened the register and took out a dime and called the police. “Yeah Betty, this is Gerald. How’s David and the kids? Good-good. The Chevy running better now? Gotta remember to check that oil. Can’t really complain too much. . . well except for the dumb son of a bitch that just tried to rob me. What the hell do you think I did? I shot the bastard. Send Dan and the boys. Huh-Naw by the time ambulance got here they’d be useless. Huh-cause I gut shot the bastard that’s why. Betty, you really-really need to calm down, if you’re going to work in such a position of importance.”

That company decided then that two things were to happen: One. Gerald Smyth, would have a job for as long as he wanted one. Second. He must be moved to the more troublesome area of town.

They had quite a chain of stores started, and this was the one store that in five years time had never been robbed. Gerald had no real control over the fact, that some punk had decided to rob their nice clean little store.

But he’d baptized it in the blood of the wicked, they put him in as a permanent fixture, at one store then the trouble started. It started slow then grew into a cancerous tumor. He then had to extract it. . . a sawed off shotgun usually worked.

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The whole time he was becoming somewhat of a hero, he’d never noticed that his wife was becoming ill. Fear gripping her heart always wondering if, when the phone rang if it was going to be news of his death.

It was a small town, and they’d yet to come down on clerks carrying guns. The city commission did have one meeting. A meeting that was insisted upon by a certain group of people.

Of course it was the crybaby losers, that had called the meeting. Nobody really there on the behalf of Smyth.

Gerald was there and faced his accusers. “I do this to stay alive.”

“You kill people.” the speaker spoke sharply as she put on her reading glasses and was shocked at the number. “Seven to be exact.”

“Only those that were trying to kill me lady.”

“Other clerks don’t carry a gun, so why should you?”

“Because, I’m also a member of Hutchinson County Sheriff’s department. We can if we so choose carry a firearm at all times, we never know when a crime is going to be perpetrated by some maggot.”

“You sound as though, you hope for that occurrence.” a weasel faced little man replied. “Do you enjoy your job Smyth.”

“If there are no further intelligent questions.”

“I asked you a question Smyth, and by God, I demand that you answer me.”

“The wind must have shifted, would somebody shut that window please. Picking up the stench of the dump, and old man Peterson’s stockyard.” Gerald replied fanning the air.

“You goddamn son of a bitch!” the man shouted.

A low murmur of voices grew louder in the small room.

A guard walked over and shut the window, but it was in fact an excuse to move closer to the loud mouth man. He was now twenty-five feet away.

“We have rules here Kendricks. No-profanity, and no insults, and when you address a man you address him properly.” the chairman replied stalling for more

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time.

“This whole thing fucking stinks, you people think I can’t see what you’re doing? You’re a dead-man Smyth, you’ll never hear the goddamn bullet that ends your worthless stinking life.”

The man turned as if to leave and slowly moved his hand down to the little book rack. The meeting hall was at one time the very First Baptist Church. (Hence the no profanity rule) The guard knew what was going to happen as well as the town council.

Gerald’s body tensed ready for the sudden move that was to come. He hoped for two things: That he didn’t stumble, and that the guard didn’t miss.

The would be mobster then came up with the pistol, that his boys had placed there sometime during the night. Gerald jumped to his feet and dove for cover. The town council also hit the floor. The guard pulled his pistol and under direct fire, (Sort of) the mobster was shooting at Gerald’s last position) shot the man between the eyes.

The ruling was simple: Gerald was an officer of the law, therefore he could and should carry his pistol, with him at all times. Since he is an officer at all times, and not just when he wears the uniform.

The council knew it was bullshit, so did the department. But it was a very weird time in Texas history. After the first shooting they decided to make him a deputy, to cover his ass, as well as their own. His was always listed as an officer involved shooting.

His wife had her first heart attack that day, when the town gossip called and told her what had happened. Lucky for both a very good friend of both was with her, and got her to the hospital.

Gerald then made a promise to both God, and to his wife. He’d quit the job at the store, and go to work at the newspaper. It was to be a step down in the excitement department, but it’d keep him out of danger, and his wife calm. He stayed a cop, let’s not get too crazy.

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Thing was Gerald was a fighter. He couldn’t help himself. His body was always reacting, before his brain could ever comprehend what was being done. He now was back in the hot-seat, and had to do what was right. To hell with making the news, and reporting the news. The president was in danger, and it was up to him to stop the bastards.

He went to the nearest payphone and started to make the call. What am I doing? I have nothing, and all they’ll do is list me as a nutcase. Because that is what I’ll sound like. I don’t know who, is going to do what at what time.

They’ll arrest me, and say that I blew up my own office building. I have to get more facts, then I can go to the FEDS, maybe they already know something is up, and all they need is a little more information.

. . . and maybe they don’t know squat, and they’ll consider this a direct threat to the president. And who will they come after? Me. Because I’m the one that called them. Cop or not. There are very few intelligent good guys, but an ample supply if morons.

Okay. . . I need to get home before Ginny, hears of the office on the news, he hailed a taxi and got in and looked at the driver. All his instincts were flashing warning signals, as he told the driver an address.

“Looks like you’ve been in a riot.” the driver said.

“Feel like it too, somebody decided they didn’t like some office building. I was passing by when it blew up.”

“Shouldn’t you have waited for the cops?”

“Naw. They don’t like me, think I’m dirt and hassle me ever chance they get. Let the fuckers learn the facts on their own.”

“Kind of a rough neighborhood, good place to get mugged. What were you doing here this time of night, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Some reporter was going to pay me a C-note for some information about a dirty cop. Guy never showed up, I was walking past this one building, just trying to stay out of sight of the cops when the building blew. Chunk of brick hit my

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shoulder, I’ll get the whore to look at it. She’ll charge me extra, but it’s better than a hospital where they’re sure to call the cops.”

The driver still wasn’t sure if the passenger was the reporter or not. He fit the description, but so did about fifty other guys. The story sounded legit, and the address was in the neighborhood where certain types went to seek medical attention. . . as well as to get a piece of ass.

Had to be legit, the man looked too rough to be a reporter.

The Quest

Chapter Twenty-Six

It was coming down the wire, and of course the entire state of Texas knew it. The German and his men were on the run, and the diehard Texans, were closing in for the kill.

The Texans had sworn that there would be no trials, no appeals and no deals. The government wasn’t going to screw this one up. They’d had their hand in enough screw ups over the years. This was one cry for justice that was going to be answered promptly.

It was to be dealt with by real live people, and not by some bureaucrat that would keep them at arm’s length for days at a time. Then leave them with nothing but a shit-load of promises that were absolutely worthless.

“Borga is either well hidden, or he’s among the dead from that last assault.” the young soldier said as he accepted a cup of coffee.

“Until we see a body, we’re to consider him still alive and still very dangerous threat.” the TL replied.

“Is it possible that this is his way of surrendering? He doesn’t want to go to prison, so maybe he’s backed off and he’s going to leave us all alone.”

The TL smiled at the young soldier, it was a good thought. This kid should be out there chasing girls, maybe playing some football in an old field with his buddies. He shouldn’t have to be here ready to die for his freedom.

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The rest of the country, was totally clueless as to what was happening in Texas. A civil war was actually being fought, an invading army had come in and tried to take over, and they were met by the ever growing resistance forces.

That forces grew into the most powerful army Texas could ever hope to have. They were also the only hope that Texas, could ever hope to have.

Hundreds of good people had been killed all in the name of freedom. The State Capital had all but turned their backs on Texas. Texas was the Lone Star State. They’d stood alone before as they were now, in their minds the question was being asked. Were they to be the next Crockett, Bowie, and Bonham? Already dead?

“Wish that were true son. But Borga came here with a plan, I don’t think it was just to kill a few hundred people then move on. He came here with an agenda, and he hasn’t fulfilled that plan yet.”

“Why has the government not sent in help for us?” the boy asked. “This is their job, and it has been dropped in our laps to deal with. Our friends and family are the ones dying. My parents were killed by men in black, and Borga’s men don’t wear a set uniform. I’m in this until I find those responsible.”

“And then. . .”

“After I kill the fuckers. . . I’ll move on, maybe go see some of my kin, and see if they’ll let me stay with them. Finish school, and maybe try to make something of my life.”

The older men watched as the boy slung his rifle and walked out of the tent. Neither man speaking for several minutes.

“He blames himself,” a young woman said softly. “he wanted to go out to some party, he felt that after such a really hard school year he was owed that much. He and dad got into a big fight. He’d been out all day putting in applications for a summer job. Dad had been drinking, he felt that much was owed to him after a hard day’s work.”

“Can see both sides to that story.” the TL replied softly

“They pushed each other and the front door was kick ed open, and all these

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men stormed into the house. Dad yelled for him to get us the hell out. He tried. . . Lord knows, that boy tried. A man in black hit him from behind, but he was able to stay on his feet and fight back. He was able to get down the hall, only to fall over mom’s body. He got to the bedroom and was able to get the girls out the window. He turned and fought, and killed a man in black, took the bastard’s weapon and joined the girls.”

The men stayed silent, they could pretty well guess what had happened, but let the girl continue.

Tears began to roll down the girl’s tanned cheeks as she spoke, telling a story that she’d promised herself to never tell anyone. “A shot rang out and Sally fell like a rag doll, and just tumbled for a moment. It was so odd to see her roll like that. Sam turned and saw her laying there and he totally lost it, he began firing back blowing those men to hell and gone.”

“But we thought you were. . .”

“No.” the girl said softly. “Sally was my best friend, we were just always together. Best friends ever since we started school, Sam grabbed my hand and called me Sally, said there was nothing he could do for Nancy. I’ve just never had the heart to tell him. I know his mind is messed up, but that knowledge could really send him over the edge. I had just always called their folks mom and dad.”

“But what about your family? Somebody has to be worried about you.” the TL said as he lit up a cigarette.

“No. . . I had Tim run a check, my family was killed the same night as Sam’s. Kinda ironic. . . Sam, had saved my life and lost his family, I was saved and gained a. . . brother.”

The last of the remark was not lost, on the four men and two women. It was quite obvious, that Sally/Nancy was in love with Sam. Sadly she’d probably been in love with him for quite some time.

That was not their concern though, they were there to fight a war not play matchmaker. But still there was the mental stability of the young soldier, that

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would eventually have to be dealt with.

Sam smiled sadly when he saw Sally walking to her tent alone, and quickly went to her side. “Need to talk to you Sis.”

“Okay Sam come on in.” Nancy replied sadly. It wasn’t all that long ago that

she and Sam had embraced, and kissed for the first time, they were going to go to that party, and then those men showed up.

Sally had been helping her with her hair, and had even let her borrow one of her nicer dresses for the party.

“Sally something is very wrong with me, I think it would be safer for you to go to one of the other camps, you need to get as far from me as possible.”

“Why?”

“I’m seriously sick. I keep thinking about you in an unnatural way.”

“Sammy you’re not sick, it’s perfectly natural.” Nancy said with a hopeful smile, as she stepped closer to the boy.

“Sammy? You never call me Sammy, only Nancy ever calls me. . .” His eyes lost the hidden glaze and he slowly smiled. “Nancy! But that means it was.” The tears began to fall down his cheeks.

“You did everything you could to save us Sammy, you got us out of the house, and those bastards were hiding waiting for us.” Her own tears began to fall and the young couple embraced.

“I left her behind. . . like she was some animal on the side of the road. She deserved more than that. Goddamn them! Goddamn their black souls to hell! My parents, my sister dead just minutes apart. Dad was right. . . life isn’t a party. Life never meets anyone half way. If you’re going to make it in this world, you’d best get off your ass and get moving.”

“It wasn’t your fault. How were you suppose to know, what was going to happen? You didn’t know half of what you know until we hooked up with these people. Your family would want you to survive, they’d want you to keep going. Leave the party and join the force.”

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“Huh? I don’t get you.”

“I don’t believe I’m saying this: You have it in you to be a good soldier Sammy. This isn’t real soldiering, get with the bad boys and end this. . . so we can have a real life together.”

Sam smiled as he gently kissed the warm lips of the girl. Nancy smiled as she put her arms around Sam’s neck and saw the TL’s standing at the tent opening. She

mouthed three words: It’s okay now.

“Time to end this baby, time for Borga and his fuck-brains to die and go to hell.”

“Do it. Then it’ll be time to start our lives together.” Sam spent only a few more hours with Nancy, before leaving her tent. The entire camp knew who was seeing who, and many were disgusted at the thought of the boy staying in his sister’s tent.

The TL’s quickly put the rumors to rest, and for many there were questions that were then answered. The sadness in the girl’s eyes whenever she’d look at the boy, and the way she’d sometimes look at him was never quite sisterly.

Then there was the fact that they didn’t look anything alike. All had assumed one either had a different parent, or maybe one was adopted. Now it all made sense.

Sam geared up and went to a jeep. He looked around the camp, and then smiled as he looked toward the tent belonging to Nancy. Okay, so he’d journeyed into goof-ball land for a short time. Hell, it could happen to anyone, now he was back and he was going to put an end to as much of this crap as possible.

If the bastards were still around. It was believed by some that the German and his fuck-brains had pulled out of the area. Too many people wanting to put lead

into Borga’s shit filled heart. There was talk that his objective had been met, and he’d left Texas, with a laugh on his lips.

Those with any sense knew that this campaign was far from over. Something very bad was going to happen, and there just may be no stopping it. Talk was that there was about to be something to happen that was going to devastate the entire country.

The Quest Ron Carey/CH.26/PG.209

3 Miles West of Dallas Texas

Penny’s Roadside Motel

Matt smiled as his son played with the green dump truck, it had been a gift from his parents to the boy, and just so happened to be his favorite toy.

He’d fill it up with gravel and push it around and then hit the little lever and dump the contents. Then he’d go and get a load of dirt. He’d work until he had a fairly decent road built, then he’d pull out the logs that his dad had made and would build a house.

“The kid is going to be a contractor.” Matt, bragged to an older man. “He’s only two and look at how well he works, the other day he had a crew working, and lost his temper and fired them for piss poor work. Those were his words. He then had to fight the foreman, and I stood there and watched him stomp a mud-hole in his best friend’s ass.”

The older man leaned forward, and spat a stream of tobacco juice. “Don’t hold with violence, or those that promote it. Best teach that kid to solve his problems another way. Why would you just stand there and watch anyway?”

“It wasn’t that much of a fight, mostly wrestling moves, he humiliated the little creep more than anything. Foul mouth, and a thief just like his father. I’ve had to go to doing a pat down before the kid leaves the house.”

“Sounds to me like you and your kid, need to widen your circle of friends.”

“That’s why I’m here, I’m suppose to meet a guy here. I have the skills needed, and I’m sure the money won’t be an issue. Then I can get me and my family out of that hell-hole.”

“Money is a good start young feller, but be sure to hang onto your morals. Lot of people wanting others to do some really weird shit these days. Just look at our little war, still brewing here in Texas. That German thought he could roll right over us Texans. We sure taught him the art of war.”

“Thought you didn’t hold with violence.” Matt said with a smile, remembering that his wife, wanted them all away from the actual war zone.

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“Where’d you get a fool notion like that? Comes a time when a man has to kill a snake. Buddy of mine. . . we were like brothers, got hisself bit on his dick by a diamondback. He knowed that he was gonna die, we were buds but not that kind of buds. He asked me to do but one thing for him.”

“What was that?” Matt asked, not sure if the old man was joking.

The old man shook his head and looked at Matt as though he were an idiot. “To Kill That Goddamn Snake!” the old man shouted. “You ain’t too bright are you son?”

Matt shook his head relieved to see the truck pull into the parking lot. “I guess not sir.”

The man got out of his truck and gave Matt, a hard look, then glanced toward his room. “Johnny, come on son.” Matt called.

“I don’t want that little bastard in here while we talk.”

“Then we don’t talk,” Matt, replied coldly. “and I don’t give a fuck who you are, never speak of my son that way again.”

“Just keep him under control.” the man replied coldly.

Matt felt very bad vibes from this man, he was like pure ice, and that meant only one thing: The man was a hired killer.

The man handed Matt a folder and watched as he opened and read. “You’re Fuckin Nuts!” Matt shouted. “No Goddamn Way Am I Going To Be Part Of This!”

The man smiled as he looked toward Johnny. “You might want to rethink that answer.” He pulled a rifle out from under the bed. “We need a backup shooter, and you’re to be it.”

“Go Fuck Yourself.” Matt replied.

Young Johnny walked over and smiled as he touched the rifle. “Bang! Bang!”

“Never touch that!” the man shouted. “It’s loaded. You could hurt someone.” The eyes had softened then suddenly hardened.

“You tell them I said no.”

“They’ll come after you and your family.” the man said coldly.

“Impress upon them that will be a very fatal mistake.”

The Quest

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The assassin was livid at the arrogance of the man. If he had it in him, he’d personally grab the man’s kid and make him scream his final minutes. But for some reason that very thought was repugnant to him.

He could kill most anybody that got in his way, but he couldn’t just kill this child. He posed no threat to him or the mission, that is exactly what it was to him: A Mission.

There were two other men that he was to contact, if they refused then they would be dealt with by the other. It would not be his concern if they refused. But he would advise them of the dangers of refusal.

He really hoped that they wouldn’t refuse, their families would be marked and these people rarely ever backed off. This guy Matt Walker was an exceptional man. He was a warrior and he’d never rest until they were all rotting in their graves.

Oh he’d keep his mouth shut, he loved his son too much to go flappin’ his mouth. But these other two men. . . they worried him.

The assassin stopped off, and ate at Uncle Rudy’s Barbecue, and got sick to his stomach late that night. He was able to place a call between visits to the restroom.

“God only knows what I really ate. Damn Texans, will barbecue almost anything. . .” He dropped the phone a rushed for the restroom not quite making it.

The Quest CH.27/PG.212 The listener grimacing at the sounds of the stone cold assassin throwing up. What seemed like an eternity the man came back. “I’m not going to make to the other contacts anytime soon. I don’t know how long. . . you’re gonna have to send someone else, if you’re dead set on it being done by tomorrow.”

“Okay-just hang up you’re making me sick with all that retching. I’ll go myself, besides they’re not too pleased with you right now anyway. They wanted Matthew Walker in on this, you should have grabbed his kid, and forced him.”

“Yeah, and he would have snapped my neck, before I got within two feet of that boy, besides I don’t hurt kids.”

The listener smiled grimly: That is one fact that the people will never know for certain. As we speak your entire life has been put on scramble. Nobody, will know exact fact from pure myth. All the people will ever know is that: You Lee Harvey Oswald killed President Kennedy. That is all anybody will ever need to know.

He should never have crossed Rogue Group. When we ask for something to be done, then it is to be treated just like God Himself made the request.

Had he just gave the order for those people to be taken care of, who was going to miss a few hundred people. Cults were popping up all over the country, they could have told the country that it was a mass suicide.

The lambs would have believed it, because that is just how pathetically predictable the nation had become. The government says it so, so it must be fact: There is no Area 51, there is no civil war in Texas, and while we’re at it God doesn’t exist.

They could have culled the rumors of a civil war in Texas, had he just given the order. But he decided to play brass balls and now he had to die.

It was a very cleverly devised plan, set in motion by a certain invited group from Germany and the government of America. They would not fail, they never had in the past. Though it was only a rumor even among their own people. Another presidential assassin may have been part of Rogue group.

John Wilks Booth: “The South shall rise again.”

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But all assassins die one way or another. Be it decreed by the courts or by the Chosen. Perhaps by some simple twist of fate. Nasty things have a way of happening to those that are sent to do the dirty work of the cowardly.

Then there are those that are just too well connected, those that are too powerful to be reached. They just bull ahead and continue to kill and destroy lives. But as the Bible says: To all things there is a season.

Hunting Season for the Rogues is now open.

“Listen up shithead! You just walked passed a No Trespassing sign, and then you compound your fuck-up by speaking to me like we’re old friends. I don’t want to hear nothing but the sound of your sorry ass leaving.”

“Stokes. I think you might want to reconsider. . . we have your family.”

Boris’s smile was very cold, “You won’t have them for long.” He replied as he lunged forward and hit the man with a hard right, he heard the sickening crunch of the man’s jaw and neck breaking.

He turned and ran to his truck and drove back to his house, just in time to see three men leaving very quickly. He jumped from his truck and ran into the house. “Brenda! Goddamnit Brenda! Don’t do this to me baby. . . Please be okay.”

He heard Brandon cry out and he ran to the nursery, he smiled as he saw his wife gently picking up their son. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah-Bo told me to come into the house, and to get into the thickest room.”

He still didn’t like Beaumont Stokes, but the man worked hard and had some knowledge in what he wanted. He was also a good fighter, it was a good idea to send her to the thickest room.

He’d always called it the nursery or the middle room. But as soon as Bo refereed to it as such, he went and looked the room over. It really was the best room for defense. They’d do a few more modifications to the room, for should there be a future for the Stokes’s family the house would be their only hope.

The one thing he didn’t like about the man was the way he’d treat Brenda. Of

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course she’d eat it up, knowing that it was pissing him off. Bo was was a con-artist, no man was that much of a goddamn gentleman.

Brenda was his wife, and it was up to him to protect her. Not some self-appointed white knight gun for hire, he’d best just keep away from her, and keep his dick in his pants. He’d be very happy to rid the world of another scumbag.

Plenty of places to bury people like that, and nobody would ever be the wiser, or even care. Besides who would ever question a cop? He pulled his gun and gave it to his wife. “Anybody besides me comes in shoot them. I mean it baby, you shoot the fucker, and I’ll bury his ass deep.”

“Boris what’s going on?” Brenda asked hotly as Boris rushed out.

“Bo! Where the hell are you?”

“Boris! Get the fuck down! Men on that ridge.”

Boris hit the dirt, and quickly took cover. “How many?”

“Four, possibly five. I sent Brenda into the house as soon as I saw them closing in on the house. Man I thought. . .” He bit off the words knowing that they were useless. He knew that Boris was jealous, and always thinking that he was after Brenda.

Had Boris been in the right frame of mind, he’d have seen the men. Now they were pinned down, and fucked to the max.

The large group of Texans gave shouts of anger as they drove forward across the fields, crushing many of the troops beneath the wheels of their trucks. The men and women armed with shotguns, and rifles caught German’s band of screwballs off guard.

Borga’s dream was totally falling apart, and the Texans, were now back in control of their state. There was no way in hell that they were going to allow some shitball to come in and fuck with their lives.

Bo smiled as he watched the Texans, take the members of Borga’s troops down. It was just about over. Whatever had been in the works had failed, they had not

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been able to get to Boris’s family.

Who cares who the actual heroes were, all that mattered was that Brenda and Brandon, were both safe. He saw the dark trucks heading toward the house. “Wow! Took you fucks long enough.” What if. . . he shook his head not wanting to play the what if game. The Texans had done the job, that the US Government had failed to do.

Now the real fun would begin.

The government of the 60's was by far the worst it had ever been, and with liberalism taking a firmer control of the people’s mentality, it was going to get worse.

The asinine questions and acts would soon really begin. They’d start by wanting to disarm the Texans, and they would kill any that opposed them. They wouldn’t care if there were children around or not. They’d just make some bullshit excuse. . .Then End of Story.

Many of the Texans, just couldn’t shoot a man that had dropped his weapon, and sat down with his hand behind his head. The FEDS shook their heads as they jumped from their vehicles. This was not what they’d expected.

“You people need to drop your weapons, then and back away from them.” an agent shouted.

“And you need to go fuck yourself.” a woman shouted back.

Cindy Larris and Dan Parker had strong suspicions that there were still members of Rogue group inside the Company. They just didn’t know who all was on their side. There were still a few that they knew for a fact that they could trust.

“You and your fresh mouth need. . .”

“Need what?” a large man asked. “You people took your sweet goddamn time about getting here to help us. We sent for help months ago, now you’re here and you point your guns at us.”

“This is getting out of hand.” Cindy said as she slowly lowered her weapon and put her other hand out.

She wasn’t the SAC, but somebody had to save these people, Dan would back her

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up when the time came.

“Agent Larris are you crazy! Do not lower your weapon! Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, I heard you Sid, you always did have a very loud mouth. These people are not the bad guys, and you fuckin’ know it. Stand down all of you. NOW!”

“Do as she said!” Dan said cold tone. The order had come down from the chain. He never liked it when he had to test an agent, these were people that he’d trusted with his life many times, and they’d never failed him.

Cindy Larris had just made the grade as far as he was concerned. She most certainly wasn’t one of the Rogue Pukes.

Bo and Boris were standing side by side (not by choice) and were carefully

watching the agents. Something just wasn’t right, there were dirty agents in this crowd. The man and woman standing side by side were certainly clean.

The band of Texans stood their ground, refusing to drop their weapons. They also picked up on the same vibes, as Bo and Boris. But who was dirty and who was clean?

Several of the agents slowly stepped to one side. “You people are under arrest. Either you drop your weapons now, or we will open fire.”

Their answers were making themselves quite clear.

“Sid! Stop this bullshit now!” Dan shouted. “Don’t make us fire upon you!”

“You’re the traitors! You and this miserable excuse of Texas rebels. America, will not fall because of you. We will never surrender to you or anybody else. Whatever happens here today, will only mark the way for a horrific war, that will either destroy the remains of America. . . or help rebuild.”

“These people are crazy.” a woman whispered, her voice carrying further than she intended.

“KILL THEM ALL!” the Rogue agent shouted.

It seemed to Cindy that a hundred guns opened fired all at the same time. Maybe it was that many. She felt something slam into her shoulder, and saw the

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Texans surround her and Dan.

Dan was hard hit in the chest as was another agent, the Texans, shouted their fury as they overwhelmed the members of Rogue group. She saw where several members of Borga’s group had also joined in the fight.

For several minutes it was hand to hand, men and women pulling knives and pulling machetes, screaming as they began cutting and chopping the Rogue group to bloody bits.

She felt a pair of hands grab for her, just as she was losing consciousness. “I got ya.” the voice just barely heard above the roar of gunfire. She looked deeply into the blue eyes of a gunman.

He was handsome but not in a pretty boy sort of way, he was also solid as a rock. His hands were big and his arms thick from years of hard work. She felt herself being lifted into his arms, and she felt herself slide into peaceful unconsciousness.

He had never thought of his acts as being heroic, they were just things that needed doing at the time. He gently carried the woman to safety, he had seen Boris take a round to his shoulder but the large man looked more amused that someone thought he could be stopped by a single bullet.

How much more fucking pathetic can these morons get?

Bo carried the woman to the group of Texans that appeared to be medics and gave the woman to the people. “Make sure she makes it, or I'll come a collecting.”

Bo was huge and his attitude at that time told the medics that it would be wise to adhere to his orders. They were in no way cowards and they had also been in countless firefights, but there was something about this man that was frightening.

The battles were winding down and the Germans were running for their lives and it was close to being all over except for the arrests as well as the burials. The overall death toll was going to be into the thousands. Good and decent people killed as well as sick and twisted assholes would be found slaughtered.

The real revolution has just begun.

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* * *

Gerald had always been somewhat amused at the large sign in front of the police station. The large figure of a man in uniform with his service revolver pulled.

Over the years the weather had worn away at the pistol and now it was just a large rusted spike sticking out of the cop’s hand.

Many people had tried to get the city to remove the figure saying that it wasn’t safe. But contractors had inspected the figure and pointed out it would take hurricane winds to topple the three thousand pound figure.

Nothing like that has ever happened here, and never will.

“What if somebody were to get impaled on that spike?”

“Yeah-right! How the hell are they going to be fifteen feet in the air? Reality check you twit: People can’t fly!”

Gerald was in an irate state of mind, as he tried to force his way into the police station. “Do you idiots even know who I am? Jesus H Christ! I need to talk to somebody with a fucking brain, and I need to do it now!”

“What seems to be your problem Mr. Smyth?”

“So you know who I am.” Gerald replied sensing a flood of relief.

“Put your ego on hold Sir. What do you want?”

“There is going to be. . .” The squealing tires turned the heads of the police and Gerald had time to mutter a low curse before the car hit him.

The force knocking him five feet back, and ten feet in the air impaling him on the large metal spike of the sign. The officers had instinctively dove for cover, and when they came up they saw Gerald’s body shiver once and then go lax.

A course whisper dying on his lips.

The driver had tried for a quick escape, but one quick thinking officer had shot out his back tires, and another already had the man on the ground and cuffed.

Several of the younger officers, were doubled over being sick, and the older officers were quickly taking control of the matter.

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“Anybody hear anything he might have said?” an older sergeant shouted. “Jesus Christ! Will somebody call a fucking ambulance!”

“I’m not sure Sarge.”

“What aren’t you sure of?”

“The words I thought I heard. . . actually the only word I thought I heard.” the young officer swallowed hard, as Gerald’s bowels and bladder relaxed.

“I’m waiting.”

“It sounded like he might have said. . . Assassination.”

The older officer stood looking at the young officer. The squealing brakes, screams and confusing and this young officer thinks he might have heard the word assassination. But whose assassination? “Son are you sure?”

“No sir. But I can’t think of any other word, that even sounds close to that word. That’s what frightens me right now, I doubt that it’s the Mayor, he’s not worth a bullet or the energy it would take to kill him.”

The older officer grimaced at the fact, that the young officer spoke so candidly in front of the public. Right or wrong, he should mind his tongue.

“But in a few days the Governor, will be right here in this town.”

“Surely they wouldn’t.” the older officer replied, his eyes wide with shock. He quickly pulled the young man out of hearing distance of the crowd.

The young officer shook his head, and looked up at Gerald’s body.

“Jesus.” the older cop breathed. “We have to do something, but we can’t cause a panic. We don’t want him to think that we can’t handle some two bit hoods that are going to try to kill him.”

The young officer frowned as the older cop walked away. Something just wasn’t setting right, this was just too neatly wrapped up. He had a feeling that this wasn’t over by a long shot.

The older cop came back and smiling, like he’d just solved the problem of world hunger. “Talked with a few of the older boys, we’re going to beef up security when the Governor arrives. Our people will not let anyplace be unaccounted for. If

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we haven’t personally checked it then it’s to be considered unsecured.”

“Ah! Good plan.” the young officer replied sarcastically. “Do you honestly think, that they’re going to let any of us within ten feet of the man? Let alone trust us? That’s why they have people that are paid to watch out for him. They see any of us poking around an area, and trust me they will see us. They’ll believe the part about an assassination attempt. But it’ll be us that gets burned.”

The sergeant hated to made to feel like an idiot, and he had a hunch that the young officer had enjoyed doing so. “What do you suggest then smart guy?”

“I have no fucking idea! But I know your plan has got to be a very lame. Somebody smarter than us had better be told, so that a plan of action can be made. Somebody very important is going to be killed within a few days unless we can figure this out.”

“We already have figured it out, they’re going after the Governor. The only other person of any importance would be the President, and the security around him is the very best. Totally impenetrable, and nobody, would ever risk that. It would be a suicide mission.”

The young officer felt a cold shiver run down his spine. What if that was it? The war in Texas had brought out a lot of kooks and nut-balls. Then there was that German. He’d never been caught, and what if that was. . . too damn many, What If’s. Damn!

The Quest

Chapter Twenty-Eight

June had paid Dobs several visits, and there were times that they really seemed to be making some progress. They had refused to allow her to take her son into see his father. It may hurt him more than it would help, they’d told her.

She finally got her belly full and walked up to the door with Billy. “Ma’am I can’t let you take your child in there.” a nurse said in a firm voice.

“Can they treat broken bones, and the bodies that are really fucked up at this hospital?” June asked in a cold tone.

“I beg your pardon.”

“If you don’t get the hell out of my goddamn way, the doctors are going to spend the next few weeks, putting your sorry ass back together.”

The nurse noted the fact that, June Macalister’s eyes held a certain fire. A fire that told her to back off, and to just shut the hell up.

“Give your husband my best.” the nurse said as she quickly went to the nurse’s station and sat down.

June smiled as she opened the door, “Honey, you’re about to meet your father, and I want you to be on your best behavior.”

Billy gurgled and kicked and she walked up to the bed, Dobs smiled as he looked up into the woman’s eyes. “Hello. . .wait I know you don’t I?”

“Dobs this is your son, his name is Billy.”

Dobs stared at the child for a moment, and a smile spread across his lips.

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“Hey Champ. Glad, to finally meet you at last. . . I’ve been kinda laid up but.” The sharp pain forced it’s way through his head and crossed his eyes for a second.

“Dobs are you okay?”

“Yeah-yeah. What was I saying? Oh-yeah. But you and I are going to have a lot of good times.”

The puzzled look was still behind his eyes, and she knew that at any moment he could go away again. Come on God. Please, let him come back to us, he’s a good man. He was only doing what he thought was just.

Billy chose that time to gurgle and kick.

“I thought that maybe you could preform some kind of magic. I must really be something to think that. A real nutcase.”

Billy gurgled again, and kicked and gave his little snort of a laugh. Dobs smiled as he looked up and the blank look seemed to be trying to fade. June was too busy trying to keep from crying to notice.

Billy leaned forward and stretched for the man in the bed, he rarely wanted to go to anyone. He’d flirt with women from a distance, and made faces and noises back to men, but he’d never wanted to go to a stranger.

Dobs reached out and took the boy, and lay there with him propped up on his legs. Billy began making all sorts of sounds, and Dobs was grinning at the boy.

This may be as good as he’ll ever gets. June thought sadly, as she watched the father and son play.

“Da-da tthrth.”

June froze not sure if she’d just heard what she thought the child had said. He wasn’t old enough to be forming real words yet. But it sounded like. . .

Dobs smiled brightly and began to laugh, as he held the boy up over his head. Billy laughed back, and began to jabber some words that held no real meaning.

June looked at her husband’s face and saw the tears rolling down his face. His eyes were alive, with wild laughter and relief.

“Dobs? Is it really you again?”

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“Yes Baby. I am and I’ll never leaving either of you again.” The room seemed

to come fully alive with the laughter, and shouts of relief.

The nurse jumped to her feet, and rushed to the room. “Need, I remind you that this is a hospital? I knew I should never have let you. . .”

Dobs smiled and stood up. “Nurse Frankenstein I presume.” he said as he bowed in a gentlemanly fashion still holding Billy.

Other way, June mouthed, and motioned for him to turn around.

My mistake, he mouthed back, and turned and bowed and gave the snooty nurse a full shot of his ass.

The nurse opened her mouth wide, and then closed it very quickly as she rushed from the room. Once again the room came alive with laughter.

“Welcome back Baby!” June said with a smile as she held her husband tightly in her arms. She looked upward and mouthed two words. Thank You.

Billy watched his mother look up, and he slowly cocked his head to one side and smiled. He began to kick and laugh as he stretched out a hand as though to an unseen hand.

“What is he doing?” Dobs asked as he noticed his son reaching upward.

“Playing with his special angel.” June answered with a smile.

Borga smiled as he sat behind the old desk of the office he’d taken as his own. It was an old dilapidated warehouse by the old 6th street underpass. From what he’d been able to figure out the place had been a holding area for the printers down the street. The damn Americans were so foolish, they actually thought that he’d left the area, he was going to but not just yet. He had some unfinished business to see to.

Dobs Macalister. Those other fools would wait, wipe one ass at a time. He had his escape planned, and his next operations set to go. But Dobs had caused him so much trouble that he couldn’t just leave without killing him and everybody he loved.

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His contact at the hospital had got word to him, the man was to make a full recovery from the programing. How was a mystery, the nurse that was on duty when the miracle occurred wasn’t talking. She was just thankful that he was off her floor.

There was no entries as to who had come to see him, or if they’d tried some wonder drug. He doubted if the Americans had that kind of knowledge. They were years behind them, in the field of germ and bio-tech medicine. There was one remote possibility: Dobs was one of the few people that had a gene that could combat the virus.

That somehow under extreme circumstances a sudden change in body temperature or even emotion. But it has to be of natural origin, it can’t be done by other drugs. To do so could result in the death of the subject.

The gene is so carefully hidden, that normal testing would never find it. The curing process happens so quickly, that even if they had the technology to study closer, they’d never be able to catch the gene.

It isn’t just something that can be easily caught in blood transfusions. A person would have better odds of being struck by lightening four times in a roll. That was why it had gone undetected, when they first checked Dobs all those years ago. Who would have thought that he’d have been able to resist their programing in the end.

Then there was that woman Ann, she too was able to fight them. How? What were the odds of two people having the same gene, being in the same area? A million to one. Unless they were kin, and that wasn’t too likely.

Borga slowly smiled and stood up and walked to the door and yelled for the guard. “Send someone to find that cunt Ann, I don’t care who you send, just send someone. If I’m right then. . . then I’ll have the bastard.”

Borga threw his head back and laughed insanely. His mind had snapped long ago, but battling Dobs Macalister and his team had driven him completely over the edge. Then of course Stokes, and Wilson had only added plenty of insults to injury.

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The Texans had kicked the shit out of his people and to make matters worse the minorities had helped to kick his ass. In his mind they were inferiors and yet they had fought just as savagely as the White men.

The people had joined forces and past hates and grudges were forgotten. They were all Texans and they were going to go down fighting. The next round maybe they could figure out how to get the minorities to revolt, and kill the Whites. The Blacks still had hate inside them and the Mexicans were still pissed at their defeat from the Texans. Yes, there will come another day.

Dobs would be the first to admit, that his victories were more luck than skill. His team were just a group of good ole boys that had more than their share of a mean streak in them. They were fighting for their freedom, and they had pulled out all the stops.

The counterparts in the other areas, had done their share of damage. But it had been Dobs that had started the war and had lead the way to freedom. He was the most hated man in Texas, the most feared, and at the same time the most loved.

As the brutal war raged on in South East Asia-while Americans were fighting a war that they destined to lose. (Thanks to the shithead politicians) Texans were putting the finishing touches on a certain German.

Many Texans had already gone on to serve in that other war. They loved Texas and loved freedom, but they also loved their country. If they could kick the ass of the German, then they could go over and stomp the shit out of the opposing force, and be home in no time. Who Knew?

Many of those brave men that had served with Dobs had left and enlisted or had received their notice. Slowly Texas, was being left unprotected, but Borga had suffered too many loses and needed to rebuild.

His own country had sent the word for him to return home, he of course refused and was soon branded as a criminal in his own country, and all his

diplomatic rights were revoked.

The Quest

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The US government in their infinite knowledge, had no idea or complete knowledge of Borga’s activities. In other words, they were totally clueless as usual. Even then they liked to thump their chest and pretend to be something much larger than they were.

Many of the Texans came to refer to them as The PUFFERS. But how do you show the American people, that their government is full of shit? They wisely decided to leave it alone. They’d left them alone while they fought the German, so they’d leave them alone in this.

While many respected the president, they wondered if the man had been told that the war with the German was over. He was coming to Texas for various reasons, but each was a smoke screen for him to talk to Dobs Macalister about ending the war once and for all.

The people needed to focus, on what was going on over seas, there were a number of other things taking place, and this matter must come to an end.

No, of course not the man had not been told.

Why? That was the burning question on the minds, of many of the remaining members. They were even going to fly Dobs and anyone of his choosing to Dallas, to personally meet with the Man.

Yeah, and maybe even arrest him, or have him kidnapped or perhaps killed. Lots of luck boneheads. Somebody would be there, but certainly not Dobs Macalister.

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He was still too weak to fight back, and would be too easy prey. But since, you no doubt know, what he looks like. A very close second would have to do.

If he were willing.

He was.

Though she had been wounded Cindy stood with Stan beside my bed, they were both still amazed at my unique healing powers. “They think that you can’t be killed, the remaining members of your team that is. Some think you to be supernatural.”

“It was touch and go for a while there.” I said with a short smile. “Trust me, I had one hell of a headache for a few days afterward. I can feel pain, and if I can feel pain I can die. I’m not super anything, I’m just a man.”

“Dobs your brother is going to Dallas in your place.” Stan said softly. “Your people feel that something is up. . . and to be truthful so do we. Borga is still out there as is many of his people. We think that the Company has been compromised. Agent Larris and I are the only ones that have feelings on this next matter. We think that the Secret Service may have also been compromised.”

I was sitting propped up and I stared, at the two agents for a full minute before replying. “Then that means that the President is unprotected.”

“Yes.” Cindy replied. “Dobs. . . there’s more. We have reason to believe that Borga, may know where you are. If we’re right, then they’re going to come after you. They won’t care about your little boy, your wife or any other innocent they may be near. It’ll be worth any risk, as long as they get to kill you.”

“What do you suggest?” I asked. “I don’t think, you’re just telling me this to pass the time of day.”

“Let them think you’re dead,” Stan replied. “With any kind of luck they’ll go away, we’ll put security around your family, and they’ll be safe.”

I knew what they weren’t saying, and I had to hear them say it. “Say it all.” I said firmly.

“You’ll never go home again.” Cindy said in a low voice that sounded, as

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close to being sad, as an agent probably ever gets. “It won’t be such a bad life Dobs: You’ll work for the Company, and it can be arranged for you to look in on them from time to time.”

“That’ll be like almost reaching the point of an orgasm, or even worse getting caught in the short stroke.” I replied crudely. Something I did when I was extremely pissed.

“Nobody asked you to start the war.” Stan replied bluntly.

“No-nobody asked!” I shouted. “But where the fuck were you and your people? Probably pumping the neighbor’s cat, anything but doing your goddamn jobs. Somebody had to stop that bastard. . . now you tell me this is the only way to keep my family safe. You fuckheads! You miserable goddamn fuckhead sons of bitches!”

Both agents backed out of the room and stood silently listening to the enraged man vent his spleen. “I think he took that rather well.” Stan replied as he lit up a cigarette.

“He’s half right about one thing Stan. . .at least one of us is a fuckhead.”

Cindy could actually feel a degree of what Dobs must feel. He loved his family and wanted them to be safe, he loved them like he’d never loved anyone before. He started a war, thinking that all would go well.

Yes, he knew the risks, he knew that there were going to be people hurt and killed. That was one of the rules of war. But soldiers were suppose to be able to go home not to go into hiding.

Borga was the criminal, and had they done their job. . . instead they had purposely stood back and let the civilians do the fighting.

Dobs was right. Fuckheads! The assholes that sat behind their desks like some kind of prima donnas. The same ones that got where they were by some other means, but certainly not by hard work. They certainly were not field agents.

They had left-wing ideas as to how to deal with the crud. No chance for survival for the agent. One Fuckhead had actually said: “We have hundreds, no thousands of men and women wanting to work. If an agent falls, then another will

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step up. Rules will be followed.”

One agent had replied: “Then you try sweet talking the next shithead into giving up his gun. Better yet, get on your knees and suck his dick for all the good it will do you. If that bastard wants to kill you, then that bastard is going to kill you.”

“What is it you’re saying?”

“That even one agent in a body bag, so that another person can be hired is too big a price. A smart person will either shoot the fucker or had better hope his insurance pays his family.”

“You’re on notice mister!”

“You’re on notice mister!” the agent mocked back. “Fuck You!” he replied as he pulled his pistol and shot the desk jockey between the eyes. “Hey! Whose spose to take this fuck’s place? Send in the next victim.” he said as he boldly blew at the smoking barrel.

Sadly they sent that agent to the nearest mental ward. He’ll probably never get out. . . not in this century anyway.

The three men had taken their assigned positions and watched as the convoy of vehicles made their way down Elm Street on the northwest corner of Elm and North Houston Streets, at the western end of Dallas Texas. They each had their rifles that had been placed by Rogue group.

It will never be disclosed exactly from what direction the fatal shot came from or which rifle actually fired the shot. Even the men themselves had no idea if their rifle held a live round or a blank. They sighted in the back of the president's head and pulled the trigger. The three shots were fired at the same exact moment and sounded as one.

Two of the men made their escape undetected but one man had been caught and was named as the shooter. He was identified and the nation fell into a hushed silence as they waited to hear if the president had only been wounded, or if he was dead as the first report had stated.

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When she was hit at the shootout, she was pulled to safety by a for real gunfighter. It was 1963 and here was a gunfighter at the shootout. The few remaining members of, Rogue Group, were rounded up, and confined at the same jailhouse, that one some old cowboy claimed Billy the Kid had spent time in.

That she didn’t know anything about. Yeah, Billy may have been in Channing Texas. But if he was thrown in their jail, it was probably on some bullshit charge. From what her grandfather told her The Kid tried to stay out of trouble, but trouble did it’s best to always follow him.

Beaumont Stokes had been one of the gunmen of the west. He’d gone by so many other names, that people never knew just when he was in their town. Unless, somebody recognized him, he just moved on as some drifter that had been called.

Now here was a man going by the same name, and with the same affliction.

Lightening fast hands. It had been Stokes, that had saved her ass.

The moment that she’d looked into his eyes, she knew what it must have been like for Dobs, when he met first June. Love at first sight was suppose to be for the movies, and those books her mother reads. But. . . maybe not always so.

Bo as she found out he liked to be called was a very gentle man. He’d been forced to treat her wound, and stayed with her until her people arrived. Hell he could have left at anytime. But he didn’t. The medics were too shaken by him as he demanded for them to treat her.

She made damn certain that he wasn’t among those that were grabbed by her people. Boris Stokes had also stood by the young man. Now she knew. She knew why Dobs had been so enraged.

She found certain things very odd, things that she remained silent about. The number of children in the Stokes’s house didn’t quite match number that she’d been told. Thing was Stan knew something, but he was being very tight lipped.

In the backrooms other stories began to circulate, stories of an affair that Boris must have had, his mistress had became terminally ill and sent their son to live with his father.

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Brenda must really love the man to put up with that. To actually raise her husband’s bastard child by another woman. Love will do that to some women the town would later reason.

It was either that time, that would finally hushed the talk, or the fact that Brenda had told one group of busybody old bitches. “Byron is my son, I ever hear of you or anybody in this town, call him Boris Stokes’s bastard I’ll come looking for you.”

Her report was to be a strange one to be sure.

Bill Wilson had left the force and had gone to work for the Company. It would seem that all was coming to an end. That there was to finally be some closure to this whole damn mess.

Dobs had agreed only to her, that the best thing would be for him to die.

“Maybe let it slip that one of Borga’s men actually made it into my hospital room.”

“How do we do that?”

“There has got to be at least, one dead body that no one has seen or claimed. Let security go lax in this room, supply that body to be me. Then have some unknown agent show up and shoot the assassin. But of course it was too late.”

“What about your wife? She’ll want to see your body.”

“Body was just too badly mutilated, and it would be too much for her to see.”

“You think the German will buy that? Sounds a bit wild don’t it?”

“The lone assassin was dying anyway, and was popped up on stolen painkillers, and only God knows what else. It was being kept hush-hush for security reasons. He killed the guard and made his way to my room. He found me alone and killed and mutilated my body.”

Cindy smiled and shook her head. “I like the way your mind works.”

“I find no pleasure in being sneaky when it comes to my wife. But it would seem that I have no choice. . .for only them, would I ever live, kill, or die. Not many people have that.”

For the first time in her career Cindy Larris felt like a shit. This was a

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good man, and they had no right to do this to him. “Would you explain that?”

“A Person must be willing to live. Really live life to the fullest. To experience all of the wondrous beauty God has given us. A person must know death, and they must also face death. They must acknowledge the time to kill. Any who threaten or poses a threat to your family must never get the upper hand. You take them out of the game as early as possible. Living and killing are both made difficult, and easy at the same time. If a person can pick and choose his time, it should be at a time that will be the most good for his family, his country and his God. There are times when some force may think they have their prey in check, only to find they are in checkmate.”

Cindy felt a cold shudder flow through her body, was that a message to her? A warning to. . .

“An enemy is anybody that threatens my family Agent Larris. I have never heard you speak in such a way. I don’t think you would make war with children, but if I were you I’d hunt a very deep fucking hole.”

Cindy slowly nodded her head, she knew what was coming, there was only one way to be caught in this mess, and she had no intentions of being caught in the shit-storm that was coming. She still had a chance at life.

Too many others had tried to avoid being pulled in but had failed. They were all either dead, or serving a life sentence with the Company. When they got their hands on you, it was for life. But the reorganization would change all that. Rogue Group was dying a very slow death.

Thing was there were still agents out there recruiting for their cause. Which lead her to believe that something very dark and evil was trying to grow larger.

“I never wanted to harm you or your family Dobs, I’ve nothing to do with what is going on.” She knew that she’d just broke the golden rule. But she felt that

somehow she was no longer part of that group. She just might have a chance at a life maybe even with Bo Stokes.

“I never really thought that you were, but with these people my family is now

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marked. I’ll have to follow through with the plan until I can work something else out. Promise me something Larris: That no matter what my family will be looked after.”

Cindy smiled softly. She was all for looking up Bo and then the two of them just disappearing. But she knew that she couldn’t, she owed this man more than she could ever admit to. “I swear it.”

A nurse chose that time to enter the room, tears in her eyes. “I think you should turn on the TV. Something very bad has happened.”

The television was turned on and Cindy and Dobs, listened as the strained voice spoke. “President Kennedy has been shot. . .”

Cindy slowly moved her hand over, and gently took Dobs’s hand into her own. The voice of the speaker suddenly muted.

“Jesus.” Dobs muttered. “Why? Who would. . .”

“Rogue Group. Borga.” Cindy replied as the tears began to roll down her cheeks. “He’ll never stop, they’ll never stop. You think it’s over? You’ll never be able to hide your family. Nobody will be safe.”

The Quest

HOW SWIFT THE YEARS:

I once thought of duty as honor-then I knew honor as duty.

Unknown:

To die with honor when one can no longer live with honor.

John Luther Long

Madame Butterfly 1897

Uncommon valor was a common virtue.

Chester William Nimitz

Of the Marines at Iwo Jima May 1945

The Quest

The UPDATE

The violent overkill began after the assassination of the president. Many more of the residents of Texas were found violently killed, in their homes and in old abandoned warehouses. Due to the graphic nature of the murders it was believed that a cult had risen.

But of course those with any knowledge lawful and unlawful knew who was doing it and exactly what was going on.

It was known as retribution time.

Borga was just letting the Texans, know that he was still very much alive and he was not going to forget about them. The entire state of Texas, now had a blood debt, and it would be paid.

It didn’t matter if the person was a man, woman or child.

So many lives had already been destroyed, and many lives had been lost. Sweet precious lives that would never come back. Lives of young children, of the mothers that had tried valiantly to protect their children.

Only to have some cold-hearted bastard, slit the throat of the child and the hot spray hit the face of the mother as she died.

Authorities would later find mother and child in some field, or in old warehouses. Always written in the blood were the words: HE’LL COME BACK! HE’LL NEVER FORGET!

The horror had only begun, and there would always be more and more blood.

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Many of Texas finest tried to put an end to the horror, but they always hit a stonewall. The nation was still reeling from the assassination of the president. Most of the press concentrated on that story. Few of the reporters, that actually had a heart and soul wrote on the murders.

As it can be well guessed, those stories were few.

Damned few.

Officers like Boris Stokes had tried to keep a close watch on his family. He knew that their time was coming. He’d played a role in pissing the German bastard off.

Bill Wilson now had nothing more to loose. He felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest. He’d be seen visiting the graves. One belonging to his wife, the other a much smaller grave belonging to his son. His only son. His bitter words could be heard. “I swear upon my soul, I’ll make it right.”

Rob Macalister, had never made it to Dallas Texas, there had been an anonymous call that prevented that. He was taken into custody at the Amarillo airport by FEDS and held for hours. They’d held him without telling him of any charges, without due process, or a phone call. That call would have cleared up the matter in seconds.

Had they also followed up on the call, they could have saved the president. The caller gave them Rob’s description and told them his name was Lee Harvey Oswald. That he was on his way to Dallas Texas, to attempt to kill the president.

Of course after the assassination they still held him, but became very nice and polite. Meaning they gave him a glass of water, and let him use the toilet. One agent thought he recognized him and made a call.

In less than an hour there were many, many officers in the airport. There was also with them a very important lawyer. A man that would later become the governor of Arizona. Rob went home, with the weight of defeat, heavy on his very broad shoulders. Borga had finally won. Their president was dead, and so were many of the people of the rebellion. Dobs was dead. Killed by one of Borga’s hit-men in the

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fucking hospital. June. . . sweet June, just disappeared one day. A woman’s body was found later, and all indications lead them to believe that it was her. Young Billy. . . now it fell upon him verdict known as the sins of the father. A small body was also laid to rest.

No fanfare no big parade for the fallen brave people that had risked their lives to keep freedom strong in Texas. The order came down for the incident to never be spoken of and the name Borga to be never spoken aloud.

His wrath will never be appeased and the death count will grow, many unexplained deaths, and unsolved murders will be unofficially credited to Borga. Over the years there will be very few victories for the rebels, they will for the most part go underground and wait for the time when they must once again fight.

The Quest

Chapter Thirty

* * *

We're of the name Macalister, now many people respect the name, and some are fearful of the name. It was dad that won the attitudes for our name, for many years he was a cop in the local Texas town.

He’d put the cretins behind bars, that had scared the hell out of the people in our Texas town. He’d received commendations by the Governor for bravery, these he’d just throw in a box and forget about them.

I know he joined a long list of other officers, that either gave their lives in the line of duty, or was fortunate enough to come out alive. But to this day he can still kick like a mule, and punch with the force of a sledgehammer.

I helped to a degree in the building of the family name as did the others. I tell you this not to brag, but to set the legend straight.

They came to us in the early spring of 75, I know this to be true cause my father was in the hospital. He had smoked for years, and the cancer had taken hold of him. The they I'm talking about was two Labradors. A mama and her pup, both black as coal.

They showed up while I was waiting for my grandmother to come after my little brothers, and my sister. We had no idea, how long dad was going to be in the hospital, so she was going to look after them. This was going to free me to do the things around the farm.

The kids came running in all excited, I told them to quiet down. If you

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really know kids, you'll know they don't like to take orders from a big brother. I stepped outside to see what they were all excited about, and to shut them up. (I was getting a headache.) Thankfully they quieted down.

The mama dog walked over to me, waggin’ her butt instead of her tail. I have to admit she was beautiful. The pup had a messed up lip, it looked to me like some sorry bastard had kicked him in the mouth.

I knelt down and looked at the mama's teeth, I figured her to be not more than three years old, the pup, was about six months old. My first thought was: I need to get rid of these two dogs. With dad being sick, it was going to be hard enough caring for the livestock and putting food on the table for us.

We all heard the horn honking and the kids ran to Mamaw, to tell her about the new dogs. She took one look at the dogs, and gave me a knowing look. I knew what she was trying to tell me, and I nodded my head in agreement.

Mamaw took the kids inside, to finish packing their clothes, while I ran the dogs off. To tell you the truth, I hated to do it. I guess I wasn't as grown up as I thought, I was only fifteen and deep down I wanted to keep them too.

I was talking to the dogs, telling them to be on their way, when I heard Mamaw yell. Something in her yell made ice run down my spine. I ran back to the yard, being sure not to make too much noise. I could hear the men talking.

"We want food lady don't try anything cute." one said in a very dark and evil voice.

I couldn't quite see their faces, but what I did see made me mad as an agitated bull. I could clearly see the red mark on Mamaw's face. The one that had spoken, grabbed my youngest brother, and stuck a gun to his head. The mama dog growled low, I gently put my hand on her nose, and whispered for her to be quiet.

I pulled my pistol and worked my way behind the two men.

Mamaw saw me first, I'm not real sure, but I think she smiled.

The pup bolted and ran snarling and growling, he jumped and caught the man in the center of the back knocking him roughly to the ground. They fired a shot at the

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pup and just missed him by inches as he ran around the house. If it hadn’t been so serious I’d have sat down and had a good laugh. But it was deadly serious.

My family was always worried about my sense of humor, among various other things. My temper was usually at the top of the list.

I cocked the hammer back, "Back the hell off. Now!” I said as I stepped into view.

They were mad clean through, and they were glaring their hate directly at me. "Ya'll okay?" I asked my family.

They nodded that they were.

“Which of them bastards done that Mamaw?” I asked my anger growing hotter by the second.

"I'm okay Bill." she said as she rubbed her cheek.

Little Joe was about as spunky as any six year old, I had ever seen. He picked up a rock and threw it at one of the men, "He done it Billy. He done it!"

I walked up to the man, my pistol still in my hand, "So you like to hit on women?" I said in a low voice. "Son-of-a-goddamn bitch!" Quick as a snake, I punched the man in the mouth, knockin’ him flat on his ass. I felt as big as a mountain knockin’, that big bastard on his ass like that with only one punch.

I quickly fired a shot at his friend's feet, "That was a reminder that I still have this. My first instinct, is to gut shoot the both of you, and feed you to the hogs. You're lucky I'm feeling charitable today, I'm just gonna send you to jail."

Thing was I was serious. I wasn’t just trying to put a scare in them. In my family’s eyes I was weird enough, without giving them even more ammo to use.

I heard Mamaw gasp, and the kids yelled, then I felt a heavy whack to the back of my head, the last thing I remember was my pistol bucking in my hand.

I have no idea how much time had passed I awoke to the cold damp cloth on my forehead, and Mamaw's gentle touch on my face, "Bill come-on honey wake up." she pleaded. I remember I muttered a curse, then I heard her voice again, "Bill, please

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wake up!"

I opened my eyes, somehow Mamaw had gotten me into the house, and on the sofa. "What happen?" I asked. The look in Mamaw's, eyes told me I had failed, in protecting them. "Mamaw what happened?" I asked again, as I tried to sit up. But suddenly wishing that I hadn’t tried that so fast.

"They took the babies." she said softly.

I could see the tears rolling down her face, "You killed one of them Bill, that big lab ripped the throat out of another."

I was standing by then I was still a bit shaky, "Need to call the Sheriff’s department." I said, as I reached for the phone.

She gently put her hand on my arm, "They cut the phone lines." She said bitterly. Her eyes telling me there was so much more to all this.

I felt sick, and my head felt as if it was about to split wide open. " Maybe you could use the car and. . ."

"They shot up the tires, and the engine block." she said cutting me off.

I put my hand to the back of my head, and looked to see if there was any blood. There wasn't. "Do you know how to use a radio, Dad set one up in the back room."

Mamaw nodded her head, "You gonna be okay?" she asked.

I slowly nodded my head, and she rushed to the back room. I hated deceiving her but I felt this whole mess was my fault. I calmly went to my parents room. I reached under the bed, and pulled out the wooden box.

I gently caressed the pistol, with the ivory grips, I opened the cylinder and loaded the 44 with the shells from my belt. I walked back to the living room, and paused looking at the family photo before leaving the house.

I went out to the barn and saddled Dad's horse, Ricky. I knew I’d need a horse that wouldn't tire as quickly as mine. I called to the Mama dog, "Okay girl, I need you to help me find them." I said quietly.

She whined softly then barked. I swung into the saddle just as Mamaw came out

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to the barn, "Bill! You can't do this. This is a matter for the law."

"No ma'am," I said in a firm voice. “them are my brothers and my sister-Dad wouldn't wait for the law, so neither am I. Besides, it was me that failed in protecting my family. . . now it’s me that’s gotta set things right again."

She stepped aside as I rode Ricky out of the barn, "Bill." She called out softly.

"I gotta set things right." I said once again. "Come-on girl." I called out to the lab. I turned and looked at the pup. “You stay here boy, take care of Mamaw.”

Mamaw stood and watched as I set out to do a man's job, I didn't know it until it was over, but she had smiled, and had said a prayer for me.

I had no idea what I was going to do, when I found the men that took my kin, but I knew I would not return home without my family.

The mama dog seemed to understand my needs, she would stop from time to time and sniff the ground, and then change directions. Being on foot they made good distance, at first I thought the mama dog may have been on the trail of a rabbit. Then I saw my sister's scarf, on the branch of a mesquite tree. "Okay-Lizzie, way to go kid." I said excitedly.

"The kid has a lot of guts." The deputy said to Lady Lane. "Those guys that took the children, are career criminals. They were with a group from the prison, working not far from here. They saw their chance and killed a guard. . . caved in his head."

Mamaw looked from one deputy to another, Knowing that they weren’t telling everything. But then again neither was she. "Bill isn’t exactly your average fifteen year old. . . he reads a lot of westerns, and some may think he's not quite right in the head. But he's a good boy."

"We'll keep that in mind ma'am, have you contacted the parents?" a deputy asked.

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"Yes. I got word to them, but they don't know that Bill, has gone after the children."

"Someone will tell them. . ." the deputy replied softly.

Lady Lane knew of a few other people that would also have to be contacted. People that she’d hoped they would never have to see again. Boris Stokes, Bill Wilson and a very selected few.

Nothing had been said, but that old feeling was burning inside her gut. This wasn’t just a by chance prison break. This was another message from him. It was just his way of saying that they were all still very much in his thoughts.

The last time was when Brenda Stokes was killed. There were other little incidents. Little things that people thought were just tragic accidents.

But those with half a brain knew exactly what it was.

Borga.

God. Would they ever be rid of that evil bastard?

Not if the system continued to lean further and further to the left.

It never mattered anymore if a person caught somebody red handed committing a crime, Some shithead lawyer could get them off the hook, with a lot of double talk, or asking the homeowner if they had a problem with people of a different race.

“You must have since these boys happen to be Black, and you’re pointing a finger at them.”

“I’m pointing a finger at them because they’re the ones I caught in my home.”

“They were taking a few things because they were hungry, and they were going to sell the stuff to get food.”

“No, they were stealing because they’re fucking lowlifes!”

The judge banged his gavel to quieten the courtroom, and to tell the man to watch his language.

It just went from bad to worse, the punks were somehow made out to be the real victims in the matter, being poor is not a crime. They were not hurting anyone.

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All across the country it just got worse. Punks were suddenly the victims no matter what the color of their skin. “Hey, your daughter should not have been wearing tight jeans, that drew attention to her behind, and my client noticed and that was why he attacked her. It is her fault that this happened. Her fault because she fought back, if she’d just gave it to him, it would have been over.”

Yeah well, fuck you and the system too.

Nobody was ever going to be safe ever again, the system was failing and those running for office were just as bad as the criminals. Always an excuse to get the vote to stay in office, to ignore the victims and to place the entire blame on society.

It was becoming so sinful for hardworking people to have so much more because they worked their asses off to get it.

The poor should be coddled at all times, they must get the free ride no matter what it costs the hardworking people.

The Quest

Chapter Thirty-One

I never will figure out, how them boys made such good time, herding the kids the way they were. It was getting dark, and I didn't want to risk an injury to my horse, so I made a cold camp.

I stripped the saddle from Ricky, and rubbed him down with grass, I waited a spell to let him cool off, then I led him to the spring to get a drink.

I lay down on the ground, after I staked out Ricky, I was thankful I was alone except for the animals, cause I was close to tears. The mama dog came over and laid her head, on my chest and whined softly. I’d failed, failed my family, and failed myself.

I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out some jerky, and gave the dog a good size chunk, and ate some myself. I concentrated on just swallowing the juice, as I patted the dog's head. I fought valiantly against the tears, with the dog's head on my chest I was soon asleep.

I awoke the next morning to a light rain falling, I rose stiffly and saddled Ricky, and called to the dog. Then we set out again in the light rain, and the wind that was sure to pick up.

By midday the rain had stopped, but the wind had picked up with a violent fury. It was all I could do to stay in the saddle, I knew I needed to find shelter. I smiled as I saw the old dilapidated barn in the distance, so I held on as tight as I could and made for the

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barn. Mama dog running hard and fast with me.

The main house was run down badly, and the barn wasn't in much better shape. But it would at least provide some shelter, for me and the animals.

Judging by the direction, the outlaws were taking, I knew exactly where they were heading. It was called Echo Canyon, back in the 1850's several people were held hostage up there.

The law went in, and there was a big shootout, and there were no survivors. Our area had many legends, many of which the younger people didn’t know what to believe.

There was still hushed talk of a war, a war that had been fought in Texas for freedom. But if asked the adults would have a sudden case of amnesia. There was no records at the courthouse, and certain buildings had been burned down. Namely Grand News House.

I explored the barn and found a nest of rats, and as disgusting as it sounds, I knew that I was looking at my next meal. I didn't want to risk a shot. One: I didn't know how close, I was to the outlaws camp. Two: I may need all the ammo I had, for the big fight.

I’d already decided that the only ones that were going to come out of this alive were me and my kin.

I stood there staring at them rats, and they were staring back at me. I was hungry, and they were to be my meal, all I had to do was to make a kill, I know it sounds gross, but I’d heard of folks eatin’ worse.

I cut my eyes slightly and saw a shovel, I slowly reached over and grabbed it, and began bashing in the heads of the rats. I killed four of them rodents, and set out to clean them, I checked for parasites and found none. I gave two of them to the mama dog, which she ate in quick bites, even though they were quite large.

I built me a fire in the dirt floor, and made a spit and cooked the remaining rats. I said a quick prayer and ate the rats, to me they tasted a bit like rabbit. Ma would have freaked, had I told her that part. You know how moms are: Always wear

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clean underwear in case you’re in an accident. Which is a bit of a joke, if you get my drift.

The wind continued to pick up, and then the rain came, from what I heard it was the worst we’d had in decades. Even with the protection of the barn (Which wasn't much) I still got soaked to the skin. The rain continued through the night, and when I awoke the next morning I knew I was in trouble.

I could hear the roar of the river, it was one of my few mistakes that I made on my search. To make matters worse, I felt feverish, and sick to my stomach. I forced myself to saddle Ricky, and I climbed into the saddle. I whistled for the mama dog, who had to go relieve herself. And we made our way to the river.

The river was swollen and the waters looked rough, but it was the only way to get across. I carefully tied myself to the saddle, then I called to the dog. I helped her up into the saddle with me. Ricky didn't like this much, but after a few minutes I got him under control. I goosed him, and he bolted into the river, like he was shot from a cannon.

My thoughts were to my family, Pa who was fighting for his life, and didn’t need this to worry with. Ma who needed to focus all her thoughts to only Pa.

The kids. . . I knew they had to be frightened, and wondering if I was alive or dead. They had to know if I was alive, I’d be coming for them for it was my way.

Not to be a hero, but because it was out of a code of honor that I’d always felt. You can mess with me all you want, I might forget about it. But never mess with my family.

I should explain this: I know folks look at me differently, I also know that the times are changing. There’s times I wish, we could just shoot all the lawless bastards. Enough is enough already. Right? Sometimes you take a stand, and other times: This Is Where The Cowboy Rides Away.

We were half way across, and I was thinking this is a piece of cake, that was when trouble hit. The waters got even rougher and I felt myself slipping off the saddle. I was hanging onto the dog for all I was worth forgetting to hang onto the

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horn.

Fear clutched my chest, and I heard a wild scream as I felt myself slip into red darkness. I don't know how many times I went under, or how much of that red murk I swallowed.

I’d passed out and when I came to it was daytime, I was covered up and I felt a very soft hand caressing my face. I saw a girl’s worried eyes staring down at me.

I could see the small fire, and a man squatting by the fire. My hands were under the blanket, and I checked my pistol, it was still there.

I slowly began to rise up, I felt hands trying to push me back down, "Easy there." her soft voice said. "You had a rough time out there."

I knew her voice and I also knew her scent.

I don’t say that to be disgusting or nasty, when you’re a kid and the smells around you are usually dung, you remember sweet smells. Not perfume but scents.

"Where's my dog, and horse?" I asked in a hoarse voice.

The girl smiled, as she pushed me back to the ground, "They're fine, the dog came to our camp, and got us to follow her. Your horse got you out of the river, and stood waiting for us, that was pretty smart tying yourself in the way you did. But it was very stupid to even try to cross the river."

The man came over and knelt close by me, "You think you can handle some stew boy?" he asked roughly.

I nodded quickly and slowly sat up, and I took that time to check things out, I could clearly see Ricky staked out not far away. The mama dog saw me sitting up, and rushed to my side. She licked my face, and whined softly. "Yeah girl, I'm okay." I said as I patted her head.

The man returned with a bowl of stew, he wore an annoyed expression on his face, "What’s a boy your age, doing out here in no-man's land?"

I studied on the question for a moment, as I took a mouth full of stew, "I'm hunting the men, that took my brothers, and my sister." I said between bites of

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stew.

The girl looked to the older man, a worried expression on her face. "I told you, them boys looked out of place with those kids."

I dropped my bowl, and jumped to my feet, "When did you see them? Which way were they going?" I asked impatiently.

"Yesterday before the storm hit." the girl answered. "They seem to be going to Echo Canyon. If they actually do get there you'll never find them."

"I'll find them." I said sternly. "Thank you for the stew, and your kindness. Could you get word to my kin?"

The large man knew that it would do no good to try talking me out of anything. The girl nodded, and looked to the man, who also nodded his head.

"My father is in the hospital in town, Name’s Rob Macalister, tell em I'm on the trail, and I'll be bringing the kids home."

The man hailed me and gave me his saddlebags, and a canteen "There will be things in there to eat, and perhaps to help you out."

I looked into the face of the girl, "I’ll see you at the next dance Joanna. Save a spot for me on your dance card, and maybe I’ll even be the one to buy your basket at the Box Social.”

Joanna smiled and as she took a short step towards me, her father Joe smiled as he gently pulled her back.

I gave a quick wink, and called to the dog, and just like that we were gone.

Me the dog and Ricky, rode most of the day, and traveled a little bit after dark. I made a dry camp and settled in for the night, the mama dog suddenly rose, and growled, I pulled my pistol and waited.

"I'm friendly, it's me Joanna." the voice called out.

"Come-on in." I said in a low voice.

Joanna came into my camp leading her horse, "Thought I could be of some help." she said with a smile.

Avoiding the real reasons I told her: “Go Home! I don’t need any tag-along

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girl. You’ll slow me down, and get in the way. . .” I stopped when I heard what sounded like the beginning of tears.

If she knew the real reason. . . it would put very crazy ideas in her head, and I’d be in more trouble than I could handle.

"Do you realize what I'm going to do, when I do find them bastards that took the children?" I asked in a hard voice.

She slowly nodded her head, "Yes. . . and it don't bother me none. They’ll be gettin' what they deserve."

"When we pull out, we will go for hours before we rest, there won't be any fires to keep warm. There will only be cold camps." I said hoping to discourage her. She looked very pretty, but I’d figured her to be way too soft for what was ahead.

She smiled as she nodded her head. Damn! I thought for sure she'd turn-tail

and, head back to her father. But as I really thought about it, I knew I couldn’t just send her away now. What if they were close and caught her? Then it would be on my head. Dammit! I’m too young for all this shit. Too damn young to be responsible for this many people’s lives.

I went to sleep, with my dog beside me, and a girl a few feet away from me. I knew that when this was over I’d see her at the next dance. But that one weird kid Jerome Slate, who would bully anybody that came within ten feet of her. I’d decided that was going to end as far as I was concerned. If I had to. . . I’d meet him over in Carter’s field.

I awoke with a pressure on my chest, thinking it was the dog, I patted where her head should have been. To my surprise, it was Joanna's arm, and we both came up off the ground, like our pants were on fire.

"I got cold, so I moved over here by you." she said with a shy smile.

I just nodded quickly, I turned my back to her and asked her to go tend to the horses. I told the dog to stay with Joanna, while I went to see mother nature.

When I returned the horses were ready to go, and the camp hardly looked as if

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anyone had even been there. We ate a very quick breakfast, of biscuits and ham, the dog had caught a rabbit, and was eating right there with us. If this upset Joanna, she never said a word.

We mounted up and rode for several miles, before I said anything. "What did your father say about you coming with me?" I asked.

"I knew he would be against it, so I waited till he went to send your message, and then I took off." she said with a grin.

I shook my head in disgust. Girls do the most illogical things, her father would figure it out, and send out the mother friggin’ Marines and the US Marshals, thinking that I’d returned, and just took his daughter away.

"Of all the stupidest stunts!" I almost shouted. "Do you know, what he's going to do, when he catches up with us?" I knew I had hurt her feelings, but right then I was so mad, I wasn't thinking right. "He's gonna want to geld me. Christ!Come-on!" I shouted.

Even the dog seemed to give her a dirty look. Maybe she did.

I was in so much deep shit that there was no hope to ever shovel my way back to the top. Hunting bad guys, and now I’d be dodging a pissed off father. DAMN!

The Quest

Chapter Thirty-Two

We ran the horses at a full gallop for several more miles, before we slowed them down to a walk. "I'm sorry Bill." she said softly. "I'm almost sixteen, and I've never really been on a date, the Socials don’t really count. I don't even know many boys. . . I like you. You're like the heroes I read about in my books."

I smiled to myself at that, I never thought about me being any hero. I was just doing what needed done. Pa would never even think twice about doing these things, so why should I.

All my life, I’d heard the hush talk of the Macalister family. Talk that was never spoken in our home, our name was well known and very respected. That’s all I ever wanted: To have respect by my own makin’ not by entitlement of someone else's past deeds.

"Okay." I said softly as I honestly tried to understand her reasoning, and I think even to a degree I did. “Hope you like our first date.” I said with a smile.

I saw her smile slightly, and then nothing more was said.

Now if my older brother were here, none of this would have happened. Darrell was in the Marines, and he was as tough as nails, and he was a no nonsense type man.

He was forever telling me: not to be so wild and ornery. He’d told me once that there was some actions, that were just totally unacceptable in our society

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today. I just wonder, exactly how he would be handling this situation.

Sure as heck...wouldn’t be no candy-ass operation.

The special military helicopter, had just landed at the Thomas Jefferson airport. The large well-built officer was surrounded by the reporters. To tell you the truth any other time he would have eaten up the media, and spat them out. (Darrell Macalister hated the press.) They wanted a new top Macalister story.

"Captain Macalister, are you going to go after your brother, and help bring the fugitives to justice?" a little mouse-face reporter asked as he shoved his way through.

"Captain Macalister, do you think it’s right for your brother to make himself judge, jury, and executioner?"

Darrell turned to face the reporters, "I'm only going to answer the first two questions, then I want you people to get the hell away from me." He thought about his younger brother for a moment then he smiled. "To answer both questions. Yes, on both accounts." Darrell, forced his way through the net of pushy mouthy totally annoying press, and made his way to the waiting car.

Lady Lane firmly stood her ground, in her hands was Dobs Macalister’s old double barreled shotgun, the pup by her side snarling. "You people have no business here! The land is clearly posted: NO TRESPASSING. I take it since you are reporters, you can read and understand English. But for the sake of argument, maybe you can read this." She replied as she fired a shot over the heads of the reporters.

She smiled then softly chuckled as she watched the reporters scatter, and run for their vans. I have to admit it: My family is quite ornery when pushed by morons and complete idiots.

Edith Macalister sat at her husband’s bedside holding his hand, her eyes moist from the tears she had cried. The strain over the past few days had been

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almost too much for her to stand.

First her husband’s surgery, then her babies being taken away, the only glimmer of hope that she held onto was her son Bill. She realized he was only fifteen, but he had the determination of a bulldog. Her heart ached when she’d heard his last words, "I failed to protect my family, I gotta be the one to set things right."

Rob Macalister slowly opened his eyes, and looked into the face of his wife. "Edith." He said softly, as he gave her hand a light squeeze. Edith smiled as she leaned, over to give her husband a hug.

"They been found yet?" he asked softly.

Edith slowly shook her head, "Still no word, Bill is still out there."

"Good boy. . . you know he's gonna kill them. He is his father’s son, even in prison. . . Borga has a good reach, our boy is probably gonna need a good lawyer."

“You think it’s him too.” Edith asked softly.

Rob and Edith heard the commotion outside the door, then the sound of a fist striking flesh. Seconds later, the door was opened. "I got but one question, anyone up to a helicopter ride, back to the place?" Darrell asked with a grin.

Joanna and me had pushed the horses at leg breaking speeds, to get to the canyon before dark. The mama dog, finally caught up with us, when she made it into our camp, she gave us very dirty looks. "Won't be long now." I said with a grin. "Ole Mama dog, here will pick up the scent, and then we'll take em."

"Is that her name? Mama dog." Joanna asked.

"No...she don't really have a name yet." I said, suddenly realizing the dog needed a name. I studied for a moment, "I think she looks like a Sherry. Yeah! Ole Sherry Berry." I said with a laugh.

Joanna shook her head, and muttered something intangible, but then she too but then she too had to laugh. It finally occurred to me that I had not, looked in the saddle bags, that Joanna's father had given me I then took a looksee, there was

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some leather tongs, a burlap sack. I smiled as I picked up the spyglass, it was very old, and in mint condition.

I imagined myself being able to look through it, and actually see the children back at home. But unfortunately this was reality not some fantasy.

I scanned the trail ahead and saw nothing to indicate, the children were even close by. Then I checked our back trail, and saw no sign, that we were being followed. For the moment we were fairly safe.

We made our camp and settled in for the night, Joanna, wanted to talk while we ate our meal, I really couldn't blame her that canyon was weird. The old timers claim that the dead, walked it at night. That even during the spring and summer, the nights would get freezing cold.

We were both exhausted from the hard day’s ride so after we ate we pulled out our bedding. It was Joanna's idea to share the blankets and use each other's body heat to stay warm.

I really didn't see anything wrong with this. For the years to come pa, would tease me about this, saying I took advantage of the situation. We slept throughout the night, in each other's arms, and awoke to a freezing wind. Legend had it, this meant the spirits were angry, my first thought was, we messed up by sleeping together.

But soon the wind died down, and the sun was beginning to rise over the horizon. Neither of us ever spoke of the incident, we were not ashamed it was just too damn spooky.

We quickly got our gear back on our horses, I knelt down and patted Sherry's head, "Okay girl, find the kids." I said softly. She barked excitedly, and took off at a dead run.

The large man knelt down and checked the slight impression, in the earth. It had not taken him long, to pick up the trail of his daughter and the boy. He smiled softly, as he mounted his horse, he knew he could trust the Macalister boy.

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He’d talked to the boy's mother, and she’d assured him that Bill was a good boy and that he’d protect his daughter. He rode hard and fast toward Echo Canyon.

He knew that the kids were at-least, a good day’s ride ahead of him, but something told him he was going to be needed. He began to push his horse, he also knew that all this was due to the war Texas had fought against Borga not so long ago.

Borga was one sick bastard to go after children, Bill Macalister wasn’t the real target, as far as Borga knew the boy was dead. The surrounding towns had gone mute over certain facts from those days.

Many of the heroes from back then were either dead or useless drunks, maybe one or two had actually moved on. Moved away was more like it.

"The problem with Echo Canyon Captain, is it is over fifty miles long, and thirty miles wide. The over growth of trees, won't be of any help. . . the chances of you finding them are something like a million to one." the pilot said grimly.

"You just fly this damn thing, and keep you opinions to yourself!" Darrell said angrily. Hold on kids. . . hold on Billy-Boy. He thought silently.

Sherry Berry had changed her course several times in the past hour. Just when I was about to call to her, I smelled the smoke. I put my hand up to silence Joanna from speaking out. I patted my leg to call Sherry Berry.

I dismounted and motioned to Joanna to stay put, and to keep the animals quiet. I silently worked my way through the underbrush, and stared into the clearing. I saw at least five men in the camp.

I felt my heart leap into my throat, when I saw the kids. They were tied up, and were placed next to a large boulder, and on either side of them was a thick set of trees.

Sneaking into the camp now, would have been suicide, I knew I was going to have to wait. Then it would be up to either God, or fate who lives or who dies.

I silently went back to where I’d left Joanna and Sherry Berry waiting. I

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mounted Ricky and motioned for them to follow me. We rode for a couple of miles, before I spoke, "They're in that camp, now we play the waiting game." I said in low voice. "Tonight we take em."

Joanna seemed to know to keep her distance from me, I guess, she knew I was psyching myself up, for what I was going to do. I have to tell you, I didn't really know just how, I was going to be able to take them bastards out.

I've been hunting many times. I knew how to make a good kill, for I always took home my share of fresh meat. To this day I don't know everything I did that night.

"I'm telling you. . . I got a bad feeling about this night." the outlaw told his friends. "I think we should move on. . . we don't have to do them kids, we could leave them here, someone will be along, and take them home. Fuck Borga!"

"What's the matter you afraid of the boogeyman?" a large outlaw asked with a laugh.

"You’re a fuckin’ idiot, I can feel it in the pit of my stomach, if we stay here tonight we’re all going to die."

The other outlaws found this to be very funny, and began to razz the outlaw as they passed the bottle.

One outlaw smiled exposing black stumps of rotting teeth, as he staggered over to the children "Tonight my little chickie." He said as he pointed to Lizzie.

"What's the story?" the large outlaw asked as he nodded his head toward the outlaw.

One outlaw giggled as he took the bottle, "Let's just say this Banger loves children. I never knew him to hold off so long."

The large outlaw shook his head in disgust, He was the type of prisoner, that would gladly kill the person that would harm a child. If Banger did try anything with the girl he’d kill him. He had children of his own, and several nieces and nephews that he truly loved. He’d never dream of harming a child. He was just too

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damn lazy to get a real job. Hitting small stores and gas stations was so much easier.

Then this deal with Borga came up, sounded like a good way to escape and get enough money to get really far gone. But it had turned into such a major cluster fuck.

Joanna and I sat and munched on biscuits and drank from the canteen, it seemed like we waited forever for night to come. We forced ourselves to wait another hour past dark, before we made our move. The plan was plain and simple: Joanna was to wait until she heard my signal, then she was to come into the camp, and get the kids out. I was to be the only one to do any killing.

We left the horses picketed, and walked in on foot. It was a stroke of luck that Sherry found the rattler. Joanna called softly to her while I got a long stick and caught the snake. I quickly put it in the burlap sack and used one of the leather tongs to tie the sack closed.

Mom would seriously rethink: He's such a good boy thoughts if she knew what I had done.

"What are you going to do with that?" Joanna asked softly.

I grinned and I could only guess that she got the message, cause she shuddered and stared at me strangely.

I paused for a moment, and picked up a couple of sticks about three inches long. I pulled one of the thongs from my belt, and tied one end to the middle of one of the sticks. After making certain it was secure, I repeated the procedure with the remaining stick.

I wrapped my weapon around the handle of my Bowie knife, and picked up the sack, and slapped it against a boulder. Joanna was looking at me as if I’d lost my mind but she remained silent.

We silently made it to the outer edge of the camp, and we listened to the sounds from the camp. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim light of their

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campfire. Then I went in.

I quickly opened the sack and rushed past, the first sleeping man. I dumped the rattler onto the man's chest, the snake slithered across his face, and sunk it's fangs deep into his neck.

The man had awoken and began thrashing about, screaming as the camp quickly came to life. The poison doing the work for me, the man fell silent as death took him.

During the confusion I rushed up behind another man and I quickly pulled my choker, and wrapped it around his throat. I gave it a few quick twists forcing him to his knees. I quickly pulled my Bowie knife and shoved it deeply into his back, and gave it a twist. I let the man fall to the ground, and pulled my knife free.

God how my hands shook, but there was no turning back now. I was pissed off and I was in kill mode, and those fuckers were gonna pay.

The Quest

Chapter Thirty-Three

I saw one of the outlaws pick up a rifle, he was shaking so bad it would have been a miracle for him to have hit anything. I quickly pulled my 44, and shot him in the chest. "Now!" I shouted as I spun around to head for the children.

I could see the children, one man was holding Lizzie, "Come-on boy! Come get little chickie!" he shouted.

"Let her go!" I said hotly. "I promise you now, if you don't, you'll die harder than your buddies."

The man laughed his response.

To be truthful I never did see Joanna or Sherry come into the camp, I heard the snarling and then I saw the flash of black. Then I saw Lizzie fall to the ground, as Sherry attacked the man. For a moment, I watched in mute horror as she tore the man to bloody pieces with her powerful jaws. I forced myself to move and I managed a smile as Joanna joined me.

I quickly cut the children free, "Come-on let's move!" I shouted to them. For once in their lives, no one gave me any lip.

I was feeling pretty good about myself, maybe too good as we ran into the clearing. I was young and over confident and had grossly underestimated the remaining men. The large man smiled as he blocked our escape, "You're really good for a kid."

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He said in a low voice. "You killed em all. . . you and your dog, I'll make a deal with you: you let me go, and I'll let you live, I’ll not tell Borga about you."

That hushed whisper. The look that passed between the kids was not lost. They knew something. Something very dark and evil.

I shook my head in disgust, "I can do one better. . . I can kill you too, and we can all walk free, and Borga can go fuck himself."

The large man smiled his teeth were yellow, and the smile made him look more sinister, "Just like your father, more balls than brains. You think you can take me in a fair fight boy? I've killed men twice your size, without even trying. Yeah, you got the gun, and you got that dog, but do you have what it takes to kill a man with your bare hands?"

I never took my eyes off the man, as I spoke to the children, and Joanna, "Nobody interfere. Keep Sherry off him."

I know that it was very foolish to even try to fist fight. . . a man that looked like Mount Rushmore with fists. But I wanted to take everything he had, and then to crush his throat with my bare hands. "A fair fight is for the ring. Out here asshole it’ll be just you and me." I said as I dropped my gunbelt.

The two of us circled one another for a moment, it was as if we were waiting for the other, to throw the first punch. I saw him throw a right, and I blocked with a left, and punched him in the mouth.

I followed with a series of combinations, driving him back, I saw his eyes begin to glaze over, and I felt victory, within my grasp. But I had been in enough fights, to know not to get too cocky, but I was so sure, he had been all talk.

He was suddenly able to blocked my blows, and hit me so hard I fell to the ground. "Enough play boy! Now I kill you slow." he said as he lunged for me.

It was more a reflex move, than that of a skilled fighter, I kicked out with the heal of my right foot, driving it into his groin. His face went suddenly white, as he sank to his knees, I jumped to my feet and rushed him.

Joanna and the kids watched the death fight in mute horror.

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I hit him with a beefy forearm across the face, and slipped in behind him. I got him in a choke hold, and quickly jerked his neck to one side. I heard the snapping of his neck as he went limp. I released my grip and he fell to the ground, his head at a funny angle.

I could feel my heart beating heavily in my chest, I was sure everyone could hear it, for some reason this embarrassed me. I wasn't sure what I was suppose to do next, so I just stood there for a moment looking and feeling very foolish.

It was Joanna that came to my side first, "That was the best fight, I’ve ever seen." she said with a faint smile.

My brothers and Lizzie rushed to my side, and wrapped their arms around my waist. Russ smiled as he looked, at the larger man. "You really did it! I thought for sure, that you bit off more, than you could chew."

For some reason my hands started to shake, and then my body followed. I couldn't seem to stop. Joanna took me into her arms and spoke softly to me. I don't remember half of what she said, the rest of the night is a blur. All I can tell you is what I was told.

As we were walking the children to the horses, Sherry started acting strangely growling, and snarling. Then suddenly, there was a very large black wolf that just appeared out of nowhere. I felt the fangs bite deep into my arm.

I screamed out in total fear as I began to fight for my life. I pried the powerful jaws open, and tried to push the wolf off of me, but I was too weak. For a moment I’d given thought to giving up. Then I heard a voice saying: “You don’t quit. You don’t know how to be a quitter. Fight You Big Bastard. Damn You Fight!”

The wolf and I rolled over and over on the rocky ground, I tried to get my arm wrapped around his throat, and I felt the fangs bite deep into my arm again. I screamed out as I began to pound the beast with my fist.

The one question I had in my mind was “why?” Why had this wolf attacked me. Rabid. Sweet Jesus Christ! The fucking wolf was rabid.

The children were screaming and crying, I saw Joanna rushing forward with the

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rifle in her hands.

I pushed the wolf back and drew back my fist, and suddenly there was an explosion and a force knocked the wolf away from me. Then all was quiet.

It was the scariest moment of my life, I had no idea if I was even still on my feet, or if I was dead on the ground. I just felt very light.

“I didn’t fail this time Pa.” Did I actually say the words or did I just simply will them?

I felt hands touching me, and I could hear the sounds of someone crying. I thought I'm dead, this is what it is like to die. I felt myself floating up higher and higher, my only thoughts were: Are the kids still safe? What about Joanna?

They say I was in and out of consciousness, for many days.

They also said that I’d re-fought every battle several times a day and night. I also had some very weird dreams. Or I think that they were dreams. Maybe I was just out of it, or maybe I’m truly crazy. . . then again maybe the light of truth came to see me.

A man had come to visit me in the darkness. He’d just hold my hand and talk to me about fighting the big fight. That fighting the good fight was forever in my blood and soul.

The fight for life was most important now, that I could never give up or give in. That I’d come too far, that my time was much further down the road.

It was a full week later that I was fully conscious, and the first face I saw was Joanna's. "I must be dead. . . I'm looking into the face of an angel." I said with a smile.

"You really know how to scare, the people that love you." she said as tears welled up in her eyes. "It was touch and go there for awhile. If Darrell hadn't showed up when he did. . ."

Now I was really confused, "The wolf?" I asked in a shaky voice.

"Rabid. Daddy showed up just in time and shot it, you put up a good fight but you were weak from the lack of food, and fighting the outlaws. You hadn't been

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sleeping enough. . . Sherry knocked the wolf off of you, and daddy shot it. Darrell showed up in the helicopter and brought you in."

I remember I was going to ask her about Sherry Berry, but I fell asleep again. When I awoke again my parents were in my room, my mother was caressing my face, and there were tears in her eyes. "Ma. . . what's the matter?"

"Oh. . . someone I love has been very sick." she said with a faint smile.

Hey Champ!" My father called out cheerfully. "I hear you really stomped some ass out there." he said as he wheeled himself over to my bed.

"Pa what's going to happen to me?" I asked in a hushed tone.

"No one can give an exact location, of the outlaws. The D.A. said without any bodies nothing can be proven." he said with a grin. "It has rained a few times since you came here, and with all them wolves. . ."

“Pa it was a fluke about that wolf, it must have just wandered up from New Mexico.” It suddenly occurred, to me what my father was saying, or not saying.

As if to prove his point, he turned on the television. The newscaster was a very pretty young woman. I'd say about twenty-five.

"What in the world coming to? Fifteen year Bill Macalister went into no-mans-land, and rescued his young brothers, and sister from five escaped convicts. Bill Macalister went deep into Echo Canyon, with only his wits and a young friend, and rescued the children. District Attorney Harry Wilson, feels it would not be in

the state's best interest for charges to be filed against Bill Macalister. America has cheered for the young hero, but for now America holds it's breath, as Macalister's life swings in the balance."

I looked at parents, "I don't fully understand. What exactly did she mean by all that?"

My mother stifled back a laugh, "Stop teasing the boy, and tell him." I noticed an odd look that passed between them.

More secrets, more lies and half-truths.

Very typical.

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"Son you're not just someone that rescued members of your family, you're a hero. Both The Governor and the president has followed the story very carefully. A full pardon has been signed for anything you may have done out there." Dad said the last part with a full smile.

I nodded my head in acceptance, I felt a slight shudder, as I remembered the events of the past, "Sherry Berry?"

Both my Parents laughed,"Sherry Berry? Sherry Berry, is just fine." They said in sync. "Waiting for you to come home."

I nodded my head. “Who is Borga and why is he after our family?”

My parents looked at one another, “Borga? Never really heard of him. Must be some nutcase son.” my father answered.

I held up a warning hand, “Someday you’ll have to come clean.”

It was two days later, I was in the car heading for home, I was silently willing my mother to speed it up. I wanted to see my dog and hug her neck, from what I had been told she was the one that helped Joe Mills to get the killing shot.

As we pulled down the dirt road I saw a strange pickup, and a man about forty squatting down talking to Sherry. Mom came to a quick stop and even though I was still in pain I was out and running. Sherry saw me and broke away from the man, the silly dog knocked me down, and slurped my face, till I thought I was sure to drown.

The man called to her but he called her Sabath, "So you're the young man, that Sabath teamed up with." he said with a grin, as he extended his hand.

"Yeah, I'm the one," I replied hotly. "just who the hell are you, and what do you think you’re doing here?"

"Bill Macalister! You apologize!" My mother said in a hotter tone than I’d ever heard her use before.

"Let me guess! You're claiming SHERRY belongs to you. Where's your proof? Show me the papers, cause you ain't leaving with her till you do."

The man shook his head sadly, "They were lost in a fire. . .Sherry as you call her pulled me out. My wife died in that fire." He replied close to tears.

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"Son, I'm not here to try and take your dog, I'm moving away and I can't take her with me. I sent away to Austin for copies, I had my attorney draw up these papers I'm giving Sab. . . Sherry to you."

I stood there in shock as he signed the papers, "She's the best dog you could ever hope to have." he said with a grin.

I read and signed the papers, feeling like a real asshole. He took his copy, and got into his truck, "Mister I'm sorry, for the way I acted. . . it’s just that she and I. . . well we're a team she saved my life."

"I know." he replied softly. He leaned out, and gave my face a light slap. "Just take good care of Sherry Berry, and her pup." he said with a grin.

I looked to my mother then the thought hit me, "Please wait. . . what if I made a gift of the pup to you? He's a part of her and I guess in a sense, he’s a part of you. He’s just as good as his mama is."

The man smiled brightly, "I'd like that."

It was two hours later Jim Sweet pulled out with the pup, I still felt bad for the way I treated him, he told me not to worry about it. He shook my hand, and told me, it showed him the dog would be well cared for and very loved.

My brothers and sister looked at me in a different light, from the moment I got home. They knew just how close I’d come to dying, in order to bring them back home. They offered to do my choirs just so that I could get more rest.

I smiled and said. “Don’t worry none about me, it’s gonna take one hell of a

powerful force to stop a Macalister.”

That comment stopped them all cold.

Darrel walked up to me and smiled as he sized me up. “Yes.” I replied with a smile.

“You did good little brother, you done damn good.”

“But I thought that it was you that said. . .” I began with a sarcastic smile. “Yeah-it was either you or your exact twin that said I shouldn’t be so ornery. Wasn’t that you? I could swear. . .”

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“Smartass.” Darrel said with a shake of his head.

I took a couple of steps backward, “You know what really burns my butt? For my big brother not to be able to make up his mind. Are you proud of me or not? Calling me a smartass isn’t exactly a wonderful endearment. Come-on now make nice call me an asshole.”

Darrel turned and looked toward our parents. “He’s going to be impossible to live with. You guys know that. How about I avoid the Christmas rush, and put him out of our misery now?”

I could hear my parents both laughing, and Sherry Berry was running in circles barking her head off. Or was it possible she was also laughing?

He’ll never get pass my dog I thought as I tried to outrun Darrel. “Try it Jar-head!” I shouted as I sprinted.

That dog. . . Sherry Berry turned traitor and tripped me up. Darrel caught me to keep me from busting myself up, and held me down and gave me a wet willie. Sherry helped him by slurping my face.

The laughter the rang out the most was Pa’s.

Hey, I was alive my family was alive, I had a dog all of my own and a girl if I just asked her to be mine. Life was just so sweet.

The Quest

Chapter Thirty-Four

You know something: There’s a lot of things good in this world and a lot of things equally bad. There is still plenty of good people in the world, one of the guys I’d gone to school with came to see me.

We were never really buddies but if we saw the other at a Playday we’d talk. A Playday was where the kids would show their skills as far as riding and roping.

His name was Byron Stokes, he was one of the good guys you know. He wasn’t a bully, and he always talked to people with respect. He was the type of guy that anybody would be lucky to have as a friend. Perhaps I was luckier than I thought.

His father had a serious drinking problem, and liked to take it out on his family. I’d see Byron with a battered face. This was when he was just a kid-a child. Again hushed talk.

What a lowlife. Anybody that would do that to a kid should be horsewhipped. I got my share of butt-bustin’s but never like what I saw was the results of Boris Stokes.

Byron rode up on his horse, which was odd, because he rarely ever rode a horse anywhere. “Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked.

I was almost fully recovered, and nodded my head. He saddled Ricky for me, and he grew strangely silent. My first thought was that he’d got a bad beating.

I’d told Pa about what was going on. He asked if I’d ever seen it happen. No,

I’d answered. Has Byron ever told you that his father hurts him. Again the answer

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was No. Unasked unanswered questions really suck.

Without proof he’ll walk, and if it is happening it will get worse. What good will that do Byron? It sounded kinda lame at the time, but after I grew up I learned how the law worked.

Me and Byron rode in silence for a while, then he spoke. “Billy a friend of mine wants to talk to you about something, I have no real idea what it’s about. Going to meet us here shortly.”

“Who is this friend?”

“You really went after them convicts and killed them?”

I nodded my head, “I had no choice, they had my brothers and my sister.”

“What was it like? I hear that some get sick after they kill that first time.”

“I never did, maybe something is wrong with me, I didn’t feel anything at all. Do you ever feel remorse after you step on a cockroach?”

“No, they’re nothing.”

“That’s how I felt about them men I killed.”

Byron nodded his head, and seemed to be deep in thought for a moment. “Maybe that’s it then.” he whispered.

“Is there a point to this Byron?” I asked getting a bit nervous. I’d heard and read that once you. . . did what I did even nice guys may want to try you.

“Just getting some advice from someone who has been there. I have a very good friend that. . . well lets just say that he does what you did. I can’t stay a kid forever, and I have to think of a much better possible future.”

“When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as I child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” I said softly.

Byron smiled brightly. “That’s exactly it my friend those are the thoughts brewing inside me. Kinda jumbled, but that’s it.”

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“Whenever in doubt turn to the Bible, the answers are there.” I replied returning the smile.

“You gonna be a preacher when you get out of school?” Byron asked.

I could tell that he was kinda shocked, I had the reputation as a bit of a hell raiser, and here I was quoting the Good Book.

“No way. Too many rules. . . maybe that’s not the correct response. I’d backslide too much and my temper would get me into trouble. I try to follow the Lord’s word as close as possible, but like it says: For all have sinned and fallen short in the eyes of God. I may have messed up on that one a bit, but I think I hit it close enough.”

I should tell you that since the trouble, I rarely get too far from the house without my pistol. I should say Pa’s pistol, for some reason, he told me to keep it. That I was worthy of having it.

At the time I had no idea what he was talking about.

There are still times that I’m not for certain that what is happening around me is real. To tell you the truth: To escape the reality of my actions, I wanted to believe that maybe I’d got a head injury, and I was in a comma. That all this was just one very long intense dream.

But just like the biblical quote I’d told to Byron. I was no longer a child, and I no longer thought as a child. The moment I pulled a pistol and killed all innocence vanished forever.

I remember we both dismounted our horses, and I was checking the cinch on my saddle. Byron was pulling out two bottles of sarsaparilla.

I heard the slight whisper of movement, and I turned slightly and took the leather tong off the hammer of my pistol.

“Relax it’s probably. . .”

Jerome Slate smiled as he stepped into the clearing of the trees. “Macalister time we had a talk.” he said as he slowly brought his rifle up.

“You crazy or something?” Byron asked. “Put that rifle away.”

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“Is this your friend?” I asked with a shake of my head.

Byron looked like he was truly insulted, “Hell Fuckin’ No!” he said hotly. “Billy! You gotta believe me on that. This shithead and I are not friends, pen-pals, or anything but total strangers. I don’t associate with shit.”

I smiled at the expression on Jerome’s face. Anything that he’d say to the

contrary would be a lie.

“Ah Byron, how can you say that after we set this up?”

Byron was shaking with rage, and started to take a step forward. Jerome’s rifle stopped him real quick. “Goddamn Fuckhead!” Byron said in an ice cold tone. “Put that fucking rifle down and try either one of us man to man.”

“I don’t think so. Either of you could clean my clock and yawn while you do it. I heard you setting this up and decided to take a chance. Billy, you’re to back off. Joanna is my girl. Back off or I’ll kill you.”

“That’s what this is about.” I said with a laugh. “Sorry can’t do that.”

“I mean it motherfucker. . . I’ll kill you here and now, agree to step aside and I’ll let you live.”

I forced a yawn. “Go fuck yourself.”

Byron whispered to me that somebody was coming. I nodded my head, I’d already heard them. In fact it was more than one person coming in.

It was at least four people coming in from two different directions.

The first man to come in was Jeremy Slate, Jerome’s father. I’d only seen the man in passing and knew only what the town had said about him. He was a complete cuckoo bird.(that was their choice of words) That somewhere along the lines he and a Macalister had fought, and he’d got his ass kicked royally.

“You ain’t kilt this piece of shit yet?”

The other group of people entered the area, and for a moment I was very confused. The man looked like Pa, but at the same time nothing like him at all. His face was harder, and the eyes seemed colder.

The woman. . . there was something very familiar about her, I’d seen her

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before.

The other man I had no idea who he was.

“Slate, I should have known you’d still be trying to cause trouble.” Pa’s lookalike said in a cold voice.

“Dobs Macalister, I knew that you were still alive. Wait til everybody hears that I was right.” Jeremy said as he pulled his coat back exposing the butt of the pistol.

“That suppose to impress us?” the woman asked.

“My boy is a very big disappointment, I sent him to kill that little bastard. After I kill the two of you, I’ll have to do it myself.”

The third man shook his head sadly. “I really hate it when you’re right Dobs. Federal agents Slate!” he said in a cold tone.

That must have meant the same as fire. Both the Slates opened up, Byron had hit the ground and I felt my pistol bucking in my hand.

I saw my first slug tear off the side of Jerome’s face, and the second punched a hole in his chest. The other two men and the woman opened up and Jeremy Slate hit the ground with three slugs in his chest.

“None of you will ever win. . . Borga has other plans.” he muttered.

I stood there and watched as the man slowly closed his eyes and die. The man and woman stood back as their partner slowly walked over to Byron. “You okay? You get hit?”

“No. I’m just fine.” Byron answered coolly.

“Good cause Bill, would personally shoot me, if you’d got hit in this,” he looked my way. “okay, lets you and I go for a walk.” He said softly.

The couple slowly walked up to me, and looked me over, I felt like I was a show horse at an auction. “Do I pass inspection?” I asked in a cold tone.

“Sorry Billy,” the woman said softly. “it’s just been a very long time since either of us have really seen you.”

“So I take it we’ve met before.” I said drily.

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“He’s got the Macalister’s winning personality.” the woman said with a slight smile. The man took a deep breath and then I saw him smile, the hardness seemed to vanish completely, and he honestly did look just like Pa. Well except for the scar on his cheek.

“What we’re about to tell you, is going to sound really off the wall. All we ask is to listen with a very open mind.”

I nodded. Something told me that all the questions were about to be answered. All those hushed whispers I’d heard all my life. . . that these two people were the key, and in some way I was the door.

“I need to get somebody in here to clean this mess up,” the agent said as he

looked up at the sky. “I hate goddamn clean ups.”

“Exactly who in the hell are those people to him.” Byron asked.

“Let me put to you like this: They are the same to the other. Both a past, the present and a destiny. Never speak of this Byron. Agreed.”

Byron thought for a moment then nodded. “Agreed.”

It was the deepest conversation I’d ever had in my life, I listened with a very open mind as promised. There were a lot of questions answered, many that had always been there in my mind. There were also many that I just hadn’t thought of yet.

There was so many thoughts racing through my mind, and there were now plans that I wanted to make happen. I knew what I was capable of doing, once I got it set in my mind to do them.

There were also paths that I really didn’t want in my journey. I know that we each control our own destiny, some think that it’s a preplanned thing. But here’s what I think: We choose what we are to do, we may not always like the things we have to do. At times we may have that feeling of hopelessness and that it’s the only way out, but we still choose what we do.

I want only to have a good and fulfilling life, one where at the end of my ride I can go without shame. Yeah, I’d also like to fight the battles no sane man

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would ever take on..

That’s part of being fulfilled.

That way when I go to the gates of heaven or hell which ever is to be my fate, I can say: “I had one hell of a ride, and if you load her up in the chute I’d do it all over again and do it the same way.

I do wonder if all this is my own ego, or if it’s something I was born with. If somehow it’s hereditary. I was never the quiet kid not really, I usually was raising a fuss in some way or another.

That was better than just accepting things at face value, or because some teacher said it was so. They only know what is in the books, they weren’t there to see it happen. I always wondered: Books were only written by man, and wrote only what was told to him. How do we know they weren’t lied to. What if they left out important details that define events a different way. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?

THE QUEST

BEGINNING END

* * *

It was two years later, I was coming back from seeing Joanna, I had developed very deep feelings for her. She would look at me in a way that could make me really nervous. I‘d damn near broke my nose during one of those times.

Hell of a place to put a door.

Her parents knew of our feelings for each other, and thankfully they didn't seem to mind. I rode Ricky home Sherry was running ahead of me, barking, and playing. I was eighteen, and I had decided to ask Joanna to marry me. I had saved money, from hogs and from doing other work here and there. I knew we could make it.

Mom and dad, met me at the fence, something told me there was trouble. We walked around the property, for about an hour, my chest felt like a ton of bricks was trying to crush it.

It seemed even with my mother working in town, and with my dad's pension the farm was going down. I offered my money to be thrown into the pot, anything to help save it, but my parents smiled and said no. They each hugged my neck and started to walk off.

"Now wait just a damn minute!" I shouted. "We didn't come all this way to loose it all, we can tighten our belts." I said angrily. "This is our home and I'll be damned, if I give up this easy! I want me and Joanna to raise our children out here. We can all work as a team and keep the farm."

My parents smiled knowingly, as they walked back up to me, "You sure you want to do this?" my father asked already knowing the answer.

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"Damn straight!" I replied.

For the first time mom didn’t give the standard lecture, that I needed to clean up my mouth. She looked at me the same way she did when the doctors said I was going to make it. Yeah, I remember that much. Some things are private between a parent and a son.

A first beer the first time you defend your dad, against some jerk, and the day you get on the right road to becoming a man. That’s the road where it all changes.

I’d only thought that I’d became a man the day I went out to save my brothers and sister. I’d merely got on the right highway, I became a man the day that I said

those words to my parents.

If a man is judged by his heroes, then judge me by those that I have: The men from the Alamo, the men that fight for our freedom in the armed forces, and those that wear a badge. And yeah my dad.

You might also add that everyday nobody, that will act on the God given right to take a positive stand. That particular nobody that will flat refuse, to take any crap off those self-righteous shitheads in our country.

I really should tell you about the talk me and those two people had. I call them those two people cause. . . well I don’t know what else to call them.

They answered all my questions and suddenly it all really made sense. They said that they’d never stopped loving me, that they had to do what they did to keep me safe. They also told me of a few other people, who will have their lives turned upside down one day.

They asked me to not say anything, and I had agreed. They were actually pretty likeable type people, and I found out where I got some the spunk from. I guess I jumped before I told you some facts. Dobs and June were my natural parents.

They told me of the war that had been fought here in Texas, and told me of their part and of Mamaw’s part. They said that dad had even played a role in Texas freedom. A very positive role.

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They admired the way I handled myself with a gun, Dobs also told me that one day the liberals would try to take them from me. My response must have brought back some memory. “Yeah Right! Tell the stupid fucks to go to hell.”

Dobs looked back toward the area of the shootout. “You got any qualms about taking money on wanted men?”

“Depends on their crime. I do have some morals, but I’m not a fool.”

“That father and son duo were wanted by the Company, they really didn’t specify what condition they had to be in. It’s a sizeable amount of money Bill.”

“What was their crimes?”

“Like today, setting people up, and then killing them.”

“Hold on to it for me, I have a feeling we’re going to need it.” Like I’d told them. I do have morals, but I’m no fool.

The Quest

Chapter Thirty-Five

* * *

It was just a small deception, but it also depends on your perception of right and wrong. We pulled the farm up using the money from them two traitors.

Dad got a loan from the bank, and bought another fifty acres, and the loan got paid back very quickly. We have since then added another hundred, and fifty acres.

There are some things that a man’s family, just don’t need to know. We all do things that are sometimes a bit distasteful. Then again I try not to enjoy some of my deeds too much. When I do agree to do something I remind myself: You do have a choice Bill.

Today Joanna and I celebrated, our tenth year of marriage, it has been a little over three years, since I put Sherry in the ground. She died at the age of fourteen. I'm thankful my children, are growing up, with her last son, Max. He has already proven himself many times to be as game as Sherry.

Little Joe is of course all grown up, and is about to start a family of his own. He somehow had been able to lay claim to one of the descendants of Sherry's pups. I guess it wasn’t too hard.

From what we could find out, the pup has pit bull and wolf in it. The pup is jet black, same as Sherry, and just as intelligent. He named the pup Solomon. But he’ll answer to Boogeyman, the pup does seem to have a demon streak in it.

Just as I was leaving my parents, an old beat up truck pulled up. Something

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told me that life around the Macalister’s spread, was about to get to jumping again so I stuck around.

Little Joe (who isn't so little anymore) got in the man's face. "Yeah that's my dog, what about it?"

"Your dog came over to my place, and urinated, on my wife's bottles of colored water!" the man said belligerently.

I walked over to try to smooth things out, but the guy was just itching for trouble. I was just hoping that the man wouldn’t loose his brain, and do something we’d all regret.

"Okay Sir, let me get this straight." I said with a straight faced. "These bottles of colored water are suppose to keep dogs out of the yard, and from pis. . . ah-urinating on the flowers."

"That's right!" the man shouted.

"Don't seem to work does it?" I replied, as I broke up into laughter.

The man balled his hands into fists ready to loose his brain. The look on his face was priceless, he slowly looked down. Boogey had hiked his leg, and urinated, on the man's leg. I sure-nuff could not contain myself. "Maybe you should strap them bottles of colored water on your legs!" I shouted as he and his wife got into his truck and peeled off.

I looked over at Little Joe, and he looked at me, then we studied the sky for a moment. It started as a chuckle, and then we both broke into uncontrollable laughter. Boogey was running around barking his head off. "That dog has a real mental problem." Little Joe said, as he wiped away the tears from his eyes.

We’d both just fully composed ourselves, when we saw the large truck coming down the road. I knew who it was and I turned to Joe. “Could you go on up to the house?”

“Is this bad news Bill, why do you always send us away? Let me stand with you for once, you’re my brother, and brothers should stick together. Hey always in good times and the bad times we ride together.”

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I smiled and nodded my head. Hell, maybe it was time for me to stop facing some things alone. To stop trying to always protect the people I love.

I’d only seen the man a few times, and he was an okay guy. Dobs and June had spoke of him many times. Never a bad word was ever said, and I never had a friendship like they’d described.

In fact they’d told me, “If you ever really need a friend, you get in touch with this man. He’s a very good friend Bill.”

The man looked at Joe, and I spoke first. “It’s okay Bill, he stays.”

Bill nodded. “I’m here to inform you that Dobs and June were killed a few nights ago. It’s for real this time son.”

I slowly nodded my head, and turned away. “How?”

“Still working out all the facts, but it’s been confirmed as to the who. You just met them.”

“Colored water man?” I said as I turned to face Bill.”

“Yeah. They just got set up in the area, one thing is for certain. . . they get their funding from Borga.”

Joe shook his head. “Borga.” he softly whispered. “Are we ever gonna be free of that bastard?” Joe shook his head as reality sank in. But being Joe he had to ask. “Why are you here telling Bill all this, and just what do you expect him to do?”

“That’s entirely up to him.” Bill replied honestly.

“Bill it really isn’t your fight. . . let them handle it.”

I shook my head as I looked first at Bill, then at my brother. “It’s always been my fight Joe. It started with a Macalister, and I guess it ends with a Macalister. Don’t play the secret games anymore little brother. I know the truth.”

“We did it to protect you, not to deceive.” Joe said as tears welled up in his eyes.

I smiled and gripped his arm. “There was never any doubt little brother.”

“What are you going to do?”

The Quest CH.35/PG.280

I walked to my truck and pulled out my gunbelt, and put it on, and tied it down for action. I then took the 30-30 from the gun rack. I checked the rifle to make certain it was still loaded. I took the tong off the pistol, and checked the old ivory grip Smith and Wesson 44.

“Do? I’m going to do what I do best. Bill, tell them to send the money for this one to my usual charity.”

“Kinda figured that.”

“He’s going to kill them?” Joe asked in a hushed tone.

Bill waited until after, I’d fired up my truck and drove away, before replying. “No son, he’s going to bring them to justice.”

End.

Finished First Rebel or Hero Drama