John Gilstrap - Threat warning

So, they kept walking.

By five-thirty in the morning, they were on the edge of a familiar clearing. The sun was just turning the eastern sky orange when Sam Shockley’s farm came into view.

Boxers stopped at the edge of the clearing and motioned for the others to join him. “I think we should move around this,” Big Guy said. “I don’t like wide open spaces.”

“What, you think they’ve set up an ambush?” Jonathan asked. Hearing the words stated aloud made them sound ridiculous.

“Can you think of a better place?”

“That assumes a lot of advance notice,” Jonathan said. “Even we didn’t know we were coming here until forty minutes ago.”

“It’s on the straight line between where we were and where we’re going.”

Gail asked, “How would they know where we’re going?”

Boxers made that growling sound that signified frustration. “I’m just sayin’,” he said. “It’s not a big leap if they track the truck we left back there.”

Jonathan thought it through. He was as much about managing risk as the next guy, but it would add an hour to their trek if they skirted this huge plot of land, and there’d still be a lot of day left to be managed.

“She’s good people,” Jonathan said. “Her husband’s on deployment, she lives there all by herself with her daughter. If there are bad guys in there, it’ll be against her wishes. So I figure we owe her a security check.”

Boxers gave him an impatient glare. “You know, Dig, sometimes I think you spend nights awake just thinkin’ up more creative ways to get me killed.” That was Boxers-speak for Whatever you say. He rose.

Jonathan rose with him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But just in case I’m wrong, I’ll go first. You and Gunslinger stay here.”

“I want a new name,” Gail said again. “And we’re not staying anywhere. What is that, a hundred yards out in the open?”

Jonathan eyeballed the distance. “Maybe a hundred fifty. But she knows me. I think she trusts me. They don’t know anything about you two.”

“How do you want to handle it?” Boxers asked.

“I’m going to go to the front door and knock,” he said. “I’m going to check to see if Sam’s okay, and I’m going to give her a heads-up about her truck. When I get to the door, I’ll give you the word to advance.”

“Unless there are Army of God crazies in there and they cut you down before you get halfway,” Gail said.

Jonathan considered it a good sign that she was still worried about him. He said, “If there are bad guys in the house waiting-which is a huge, steaming pile of if -then they’ll know that I’m with others. If they see me approaching alone, they’ll hold their fire so as not to draw more from you two.”

Boxers put his hands on his hips. “You know that’s utter bullshit, right?”

Jonathan beamed. “I thought it sounded good, though.” He started toward the clearing. “Wait for my command.”

He closed the distance casually, as before, not wanting to draw unnecessary suspicion. Of course, unlike the last time he approached the farmhouse, he looked far less like a lost hunter than a trained gunman.

He allowed the muzzle of his M4 to point harmlessly toward the ground, while his gloved hand remained on the grip, his finger close to the trigger guard. He kept his eyes planted on the windows of the little house, and on the corners, where snipers might lie in wait. He took comfort in the knowledge that Boxers and Gail would both be watching with digital magnification. If something looked bad, they would tell him. In fact, there was a better than average chance that they would shoot whatever looked bad.

A hundred fifty yards goes by fast at twenty-two hundred feet per second.

When Jonathan closed to within the last twenty yards, he became concerned that no one had yet appeared in the windows or on the porch. His only experience with the Shockley family to date was that they were early risers, and very attentive to their surroundings.

So, where were they?

He pressed his transmit button. “I can’t tell you why, but I’m not liking this,” he said. “Advise the instant you see any movement anywhere.”

Jonathan climbed the three stairs to the front porch and walked to the door. He knocked.

No one answered, but scuffling sounds from the inside indicated that people were definitely at home. He radioed, “I hear people inside, but there’s no answer.”

He knocked again.

Jilly’s voice shouted, “Mama, can we be home yet?”

Jonathan smiled. The stealthy, secret-keeping child had yet to be invented. He heard footsteps, and then the sound of a chain being stripped from its track on the door. It opened a few inches, and there was a very nervous Sam Shockley. She tried to smile, but she wasn’t good enough at deception to get her eyes involved.

“Mr. Harris,” she said. “What a pleasure to see you.”

Bullshit. There was no reason for her to be anything but bothered to see him. She should be ragging his ass for coming by again at all after trying to steal her truck.

“Mrs. Shockley,” he said. “I came by to make sure-”

“We’ve got a runner out the back door!” Boxers shouted in his hear.

“Shit!” He spun and headed for the stairs. He pressed the transmit button. “Gunslinger, clear the house.”

“Don’t hurt her!” Sam yelled. “She doesn’t mean any harm!” She took off after him.

Jonathan cut to his left at the bottom of the steps and dashed around toward the back of the house. There he saw a woman in a plain woolen coat in a dead run across the scrubby harvested corn field.

“Target acquired,” Boxers said in his ear.

“You!” Jonathan yelled. “Stop or we will shoot!”

She started running faster.

Jonathan took off after her, and he knew without looking that Sam Shockley was close behind. In his peripheral vision, he saw Gail sprinting across the field toward the house to clear it of any lingering bad guys. He pressed his mike button. “Give the runner a wide lead, Big Guy. I want to stop her, not hurt her.”

Two, three-round bursts split the peace of the morning before Jonathan could even let up on his transmit button. Dirt kicked up in front of the fleeing girl, directly in her path. She slid to a stop, hesitated and started running again, prompting two more bursts from Boxers’ weapon.

“Next time we hit you!” Jonathan yelled.

The woman stopped again. As Jonathan closed the distance that separated them, his weapon at the ready, she made to run again.

This time, Jonathan fired the warning shots. From this distance, the muzzle blasts would be near-deafening, and as he’d hoped, that was all the convincing she needed. From the back, he wouldn’t have even known she was a she. Her hair had been cropped short, and she wore a stocking cap pulled low.

“Hands straight out to your sides,” Jonathan commanded. “Fingers splayed wide.”

Sam Shockley caught up with him and pulled on his vest. “Don’t hurt her,” she begged.

Jonathan pulled free and pointed his weapon inches from her nose. “Step back, Mrs. Shockley. Do not interfere.”

She blanched and took two steps back. Behind her, Boxers was lumbering across the field to join them.

Jonathan returned his aim to the woman who’d fled. She stood as if crucified, her hands perpendicular to her body, elbows locked. “Our intent is not to hurt anyone,” Jonathan said. “But if you make me, I will.” He paused while Boxers arrived. “Now turn around.”

His jaw dropped. It was her again: the one from the bridge and from the basement. All the toughness was gone now, entirely replaced by fear.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she said.

“Are you armed?”