My sister passed in July and as she was a voracious reader, I wrote this for her. And let me be clear, I AM NOT advocating violence of any kind against any LEO's. I respect and admire them as much as our military. This is only a story.It is a dark one, but I was not feeling too bright at the time.
It is complete and I will post a chapter or two a week (there are seven) after a little more editing.
As always, any and all suggestions are welcome.
30C
index.
M.Asbury
Copyright 2017
Dedicated to my sister Cynthia Bess(Nin)
You left us way too soon.
I
Bemis paused halfway up the hill and took a quick glance behind him. Something had spooked him. Although it wasn’t hard nowadays. He was always spooked.
He decided to catch his breath before cresting the hill. He had been moving steadily since noon-only pausing once to eat a light lunch. Light lunch. That was a laugh, like he had a choice.
He squatted, trying to keep his butt out of the snow. After resting this way for only a few seconds, his legs began to hum with inactivity. It felt so good, he gave up and just sat down, leaning against a large walnut tree. He had sat down in two inches of snow, but he didn’t care much, he was soaked to the skin anyway.
He shrugged off the small book-bag that had once belonged to his son and placed it in his lap.
Tied to the exterior of the book bag was a sleeping bag with a foam pad. This was Bemis’s house, or had been for almost four weeks anyway.
He reached in his shirt, got out his canteen and looked around. All he had seen for the past week was ambient light. He had not seen the sky in seven days- and there were no shadows. At twilight, there were faint shadows and even sometimes then you really had to look. It just suddenly got dark. There was enough light to see, but everything was cloaked in grey. The sun was still doing its job, but it was nowhere to be seen in the deep winter sky. Judging from the detail he could make out on the canteen, Bemis figured he had maybe ninety minutes until dark. He would have to find a place to stay for the night soon. He scanned three hundred and sixty degrees, listening closely, watching intently and he heard no noise, other than a rustle from an errant wind whipping through the stark branches.
In all his forty-three years, Bemis had never in his life felt so alone. So completely and utterly alone. It scared him a little, because he was getting to the point now where he did not care. But he still had his wife at home and she needed to know what happened. She was the only thing that kept him going. Bemis was very tired.
He swallowed the last of the water from his now empty canteen and began filling it with snow. That done, Bemis placed it in his shirt, shivered, picked up Grady’s book bag and stood up, brushing the snow from his worn and now completely butt-soaked tan Carhartt pants.
Bemis took several more steps and after two deep breaths, crouched and slowly made his way to the top of the ridge.
When he was near, he lay down and slowly inched his way to the crest. Surely this would be it. Bemis thought feverishly, I don’t think I can go much further. His stomach fluttered and he peered over the crest. There weren’t any tents or shacks, just three boulders, each capped with a slight dusting of snow. He gave the area a final scan, looking for danger but seeing none, stood up slowly, brushed the snow off himself and walked down the hill, his eyes already searching for the next one. They have to be behind a hill, right? He thought. I mean where else could they be? I know I am headed the right way.
After crossing the small ridge past the boulders, Bemis came to a flat, wide gravel road a hundred feet or so from the tree line he just exited. It seemed to be fairly well maintained. It had been plowed of snow recently, in the last week or two anyway- since it had not snowed since Bemis had gotten away. He could even still see faint tire impressions. Bemis looked left and then right. After one more glance each way, he slowly began walking left. East, he thought. He hoped.
Bemis walked in a tire track. This was where the snow was the lightest. He would pause occasionally and listen for vehicles, afraid a vehicle would pull up behind him. After he had walked ten minutes or so, he thought he seen a large building directly ahead of him in the distance. It looked to be tan colored, but he couldn't be sure. He crouched quickly. It was at least a quarter mile away, but he took no chances now. Still crouching, he headed back to the tree line, duck -walking as quickly as he could. He then disappeared into it.
Twenty-minutes later, Bemis came to within thirty feet of a large faded grey building. It looked to be a 30’X80’ pre-fabbed steel building, but a very high quality one. Bemis got as close as he dared and stopped, crouching behind a Sweetgum tree. It was getting close to twilight and he had seen no lights burning on, or in, the building. He watched and listened a few more seconds, for that was all he could spare. He considered walking back into the trees and sheltering somewhere for the night, then get a good look in the morning- what there was of that anyway- but he needed to know. He had not slept in a man-made structure in sometime, and the lure of sleeping off the ground and maybe even finding something to eat was too great not to investigate. Plus he was tired. So very tired. He slowly stood.
II
Thirty-three days earlier.
“Ok, after we stop in the next town-”. Bemis began.
“Ahh, man.” “We stopping again?” Grady- Bemis’s fifteen-year-old son- said with agony.
“If we don’t stop now, we’ll have to come back out to get the ice, grub and bait.”
“I know, I know.” Grady said resignedly. He brightened slightly. “Just a couple things though right?” “Quick?” “In and out?” Grady asked hopefully. “Think we’ll get there before dark?”
Bemis grabbed his phone from the dash and looked at the time. “Should, with about an hour to spare.”
“Cool.” Grady lifted his phone in front of his face, glanced at the screen then put it back in his pocket.
Colleen. Bemis thought with amusement.
“You keep checkin’ that thing.” “ Expecting a text?” Bemis asked distractedly reaching for the CD player to skip a track.
“Yeah.” “Can’t figure out why she hasn’t texted me back.”
“Well, better get it all figured out now, because once we get there-“
“Yeah. I know.” “That’s why I need to hear back now.”
“So what’s the deal?” Bemis asked, skipping yet another track. It was a new CD.
“Well, I asked her out to see the new Expedition movie. Expedition III- Durward’s Last Stand. It’s coming out next week and she hasn’t texted me back, so I don’t know if she-“
“Wait.” Bemis glanced sideways at his son. “You asked her out via text?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Holy Crap son!” “That is not how you….” Bemis’s voice trailed off as they crested a small rise.
“Crap, another one?” “Whats the deal anyway? “Bemis said with unmasked annoyance. “Thought this was all over with.” “We’re like a hundred miles south of Engleburg.”
“Colleen’s dad says it won’t let up anytime soon.” Grady said proudly. “He’s a Federal Police Commander you know.”
“Yeah, I heard that.” Bemis said, rolling his eyes.
“Lame.”
Grady was referring to a state of panic gripping most of the country for the past two weeks or so.
According to CNN,Fox and MSNBC; it had all started nine days earlier: A coordinated effort by several alleged ISIS cells had targeted three US cities; Atlanta, Chattanooga and Boise.
In a span of twelve hours, there were six fire bombings directed at six Post Offices and four DMV’s. Fifteen police cars nationwide had been attacked; three with weapons, the others with Molotov’s and the like. Graffiti had been sprayed on several police and federal buildings, most of which stated the superiority of Islam.
But-according to some of the blogs Bemis read fairly regularly- it was not as bad as they reported. Nowhere near. As a matter of fact, most agreed that it all boiled down to a lone Syrian refugee upset at losing his job at a small law office in Boise. He walked into his ex-workplace with a shotgun and wounded three before being dispatched by a security guard. All of the other ‘incidents’ were blown way out of proportion by the mainstream media.
The newly-elected first female President of the United States decided to mobilize The National Guard and then, utilizing members from various law enforcement agencies, created the first ever Federal Police Force to try and find the remaining members of the terrorist cells. Madam President Obama, was applauded by the left saying that she was making the country and it’s citizens safer, while others said that the people that were being detained were not terrorists at all. Bemis had read that anyone that was on any federal watch lists-which included citizens that were NRA members, all CCW holders, militia members and any others that the administration labelled ‘extremists’ were looked at very closely. He wasn’t sure he believed it all though.
Bemis slowed as he approached a US Army National Guard soldier rolling down his window. He turned down the CD player.
“Good evening Sir.” Said the SSG as Bemis stopped the Dodge.
“Sergeant.” Bemis said curtly, already holding out his driver’s license and registration.
The Sergeant, whose name was Pickering, took Bemis’s offered info and glanced at them quickly, eyes scanning the photo, name, birthday and address of one Bemis Shogren. His attention then was on a small tablet strapped to his wrist.
“Where are you headed?” He asked coolly while typing furiously, eyes unreadable behind his Oakleys.
“Lake Stafford.” “Campground.” Bemis said.
Sgt. Pickering turned his head towards the slide in camper in the bed of Bemis’s truck and quickly back towards the cab and Bemis.
“Anyone in the camper sir”?
“Not unless there’s a stowaway.” Bemis smiled.
Sgt.Pickering did not smile.
“Mind if we verify that sir? “He asked professionally.
At this, two soldiers that must have been standing his blind spot, took two steps forward. They suddenly appeared in his side mirror. The maneuver had its desired effect. He was scared.
While Bemis was ****ed at what was sure to be a violation of his rights, and what was an unwarranted search, he knew that it was in his best interest and better in the long run to let them check, he nodded and said; “Of course Sergeant, let me open it up for you.” Bemis started to place the truck in park.
Sgt. Pickering quickly grabbed Bemis’s shoulder. “That won’t be necessary sir.” He said.
Bemis relaxed slightly and placed his hands back on the steering wheel.
“Thank you for cooperating.” Sgt. Pickering said removing his hand and handing Bemis back his license and registration. “Proceed approximately three miles ahead and pull off the road at the flashing yellow sign and shut off your engine.” “Someone will assist you there.” “Move along.” “Have a nice evening.”
Sgt. Pickering stepped away from Bemis’s door waving his hand.
Bemis drove on, dreading what was coming.
They had set up at what appeared to be an old semi-weigh station, running alongside Route 25. Route 25 was a well maintained two lane that ran the length of the state. As he drew near, Bemis seen three generator-powered light trees each positioned beside three sectioned off areas of parking lot.
There were three colors. Inspection Area Red, the sign said. Then there was an Inspection Yellow. And lastly- Inspection Area Black. There was a vehicle parked in the Black space but no one was around it, the doors, trunk and hood open.
In front of the three inspection areas, directly across from Bemis’s yellow space, were three Federal Police pursuit vehicles and one black Dodge Charger.
Three Federal Police and two men wearing suits with blue coats stood in a small circle by the vehicles.
“Oh, this is not good.” Bemis said softly to himself. “ Not good at all.”
A Federal Police broke off from the circle and walked briskly up to Bemis’s door.
“Good evening, Sir.” “Please place the vehicle in park with the e-brake engaged and step out.”
“My son-“
“I apologize sir.” He said impassively. And with no sincerity at all, Bemis thought. “Everyone must exit the vehicle.” Bemis noticed that as he said this, the two remaining Federal Police Officers and the FBI guys or whatever they were-turned and faced Bemis’s truck.
“Yes officer.” Bemis replied as calmly as he could. He turned to Grady as he placed the Dodge in park and turned off the ignition. “You heard the man.” And softer Bemis said, “No sudden movements.”
Grady’s eyes widened. Bemis slapped Grady’s shoulder softly while unbuckling his seat belt. “It’s not a big deal, but these guys might be a little nervous.” “Let’s not do anything to make them any jumpier.” “Cool”?
Grady nodded. He was a good kid and definitely not stupid. Bemis was a proud dad.
Bemis reached for the door handle and as the door began to swing open, he noticed that one of the three Federal Police moved forward quickly and stopped by the headlight on Grady’s side of the truck.
“Is there anyone else in the truck Sir?” The Federal Police asked, head tilting to the camper in the bed. “A friend or spouse maybe?”
Bemis shook his head no and looking in the officer’s eyes said, “No sir.”
Bemis-who had a cousin in the FBI and a close friend who was a town Fed Cop-always told him to:
A, never lie to law enforcement. Most can tell when you are-as they deal with liars every day, all day and they do not like it.
B, look them in the eye when talking to them, not to establish authority or some macho crap, but rather; to let seem see that you aren’t lying to them.
C, let them know they are in charge. Swallow your pride- but swallow it just the same, because they are in charge.
The Federal Police Captain looked at Bemis, nodded slightly and, “May I see your license and registration please?”
“Yes.” “Registration is in the roof console.” Bemis had a habit of putting everything back where it belonged. His wife said it was OCD, but Bemis was starting to forget where he put stuff-so he put everything back where it belonged
The Captain nodded and took a half step back.
Bemis leaned on the seat and opened the small drawer between the sun visors and pulled out the registration.
Holding his registration, as Bemis reached for his wallet, Bemis noticed the Federal Police by the headlight had now moved from the headlight to the passenger door and stopped.
Bemis pulled out his wallet and extracted his Driver’s License . Behind that, was his concealed carry license. Noticing it, Bemis realized that he had forgotten to tell the National Guardsman a checkpoint earlier that he was carrying. He felt his face slowly drain of blood.
Bemis quickly glanced at the Captain-who was now typing on his own wrist tablet- and held out his license. He wondered when he should tell the cop he had a Kimber Ultra Carry in .45 ACP on his hip. His mind worked feverishly. He realized he should have told them at once, like he had at the previous two checkpoints. They also had him pull off to the side and after conferring for ten minutes or so, they let him go, but this stop had a different vibe. These boys were not here to protect him, he felt, but quite the opposite. I gotta tell him now. I waited too long already. Bemis opened his mouth to speak.
The Federal Police and the two ATF agents on site knew Bemis was coming. Previous checkpoints had been instructed to allow Bemis to proceed until he arrived at a location where the proper facilities were available. Bemis Shogren; age 43, was designated as ‘subversive’ by the ATF and DHS.
Bemis did, in fact, belong to the NRA. He belonged to no militia, but he was a CCW holder and his name showed up often in the NICS database. Bemis suffered from ‘Blue Steel Disease’ and as a result had filled out many background check forms over the years. There is no cure. One treatment, however, suggests getting a larger gun safe.
Grady shut his door gently and began walking towards the front of the truck, glancing back as his dad leaned in the cab. The Federal Cop watched him closely.
Probably getting the registra- Grady was thinking when his phone vibrated.
Hurriedly, he reached in his coat pocket- already formulating his response depending on Colleen’s answer. He heard shouting and looked up to a Federal Police standing in front of him raising his pistol. Why is he aiming at me? Grady thought distractedly. Those were his last thoughts.
“Officer-”
Bemis’s first word had barely escaped his mouth when he heard shouting on the passenger side of the truck, he turned to see Grady by the front fender.
“GUN!” The Fed Cop had shouted, then drew his weapon and fired three rounds into his son’s chest. Bemis seen the tufts of smoke as the rounds penetrated.
Grady stood for a moment with a confused look on his face, then collapsed, his phone tumbling out of his hand when he hit the ground, dead.
The screen was lit with Colleen’s answer.
Mayb Wats n it for me? LOL
index. Short Story
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