“Peter,” came a voice exactly like Barb doing an impression of an FBI case agent. “Is this a secure line?”
“Don’t worry,” came Jackery’s voice. “I got things under control.”
“I got your earlier message when you sent the ‘wrong number’ code phrase. Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“The crowd was close to rioting, but I took care of that. Even the sheriff was shaking in his boots.”
“Are you ready for us to send in the helicopters?”
“Not yet. The losers are useful tools. They don’t even know they’re being used.”
“Are you certain you’re not in any danger?”
“They’re simple creatures,” he said. “Boys really. Probably grew up without fathers. I just fed them the words they’ve always wanted to hear from a man: ‘I’m proud of you, son.’ Once I did that, the rest of it was easy.”
“All right. We’ll await your signal.”
Click.
By the time what he’d heard sank in, it was too late for Jackery to react. He was swarmed by enraged men surrounding him, men who were never far from anger on their best day, and who were suddenly having their personal version of the very worst day possible. A flurry of fists knocked him to the ground, where he was certain he was about to be stomped to death. He curled his body as best he could, waiting for the first boot.
It never came. Instead, a voice sounded above, like the voice of God—if God were the grizzled militia commander.
“Get this piece of shit on his feet,” he said.
Rough arms pulled Jackery upright and dragged him to stand before the commander, who looked him up and down and spat a huge gob in his face. With a militia member holding each of his arms, Jackery didn’t have a hand free to wipe his face, surely the least of his problems, but the one he felt the most keenly in the moment.
Around them, chaos swirled as the prospect of an FBI raid turned the crowd into a mob.
“Let’s take him to the pole,” said one of the men holding Jackery. “The firing squad’s already set up.”
The grizzled commander seemed to be giving this proposal serious consideration when the radio crackled to life again, and the voice of the judge issued forth.
“This operation is hereby canceled. All duties and assignments are revoked. Prepare for immediate evacuation. Grab all your possessions and hit the road.”
“What about the fucking rat?” yelled someone in the crowd.
“We’re going to give him a trial and then take care of him. Anyone who wants to, can stick around an extra half hour to watch.”
#
Inside the grocery, the guards abandoned their posts and headed for the nearest exit. The true sheriff’s deputies like Toby, seemed lost, standing around with dazed looks on their faces. The handhelds crackled to life again, and the acting sheriff’s voice came on.
“All guarding assignments are canceled,” she said. “You can use your squad cars to drive your neighbors back to their homes. Or you can leave town in your own personal vehicles. Anyone who leaves will be considered resigned from the department. This will be my last command as sheriff. I hereby resign and wish the rest of you luck. I’m out of here, and I hope I never see Dixon again.”
Spontaneous applause broke out among the townspeople in the store. The door to the rear section swung open and the “troublemakers” walked through, rubbing their wrists where the cuffs had been.
“You did it,” said Danita to Barb.
“Is it really over?” said Danita’s mother.
“The invasion part is,” said Barb. “Jackery’s still a threat.”
“You can’t be serious,” said Julian, jumping into the conversation. “You essentially tied him to that post out there and loaded the rifles. He’s a dead man walking.”
“A crafty one with unimaginable resources at his disposal,” said Barb. “We can’t bury him quite yet.”
#
As Jackery watched helplessly, the parking lot emptied out, and with it, his beautiful plans and dreams. Soon there were a mere dozen or so men around. By then, the townspeople had started to filter out from the store. Some of them took the sheriff up on her offer to have deputies drive them back to their houses and farms. Others stood at a respectful distance, staring at the spectacle of him, their nemesis, in the grip of the very monsters he’d brought to their town.
Someone untied Westford from the pole. He stood with the dazed expression of someone who’d literally dodged a bullet. He took in a huge breath, his eyes gleaming as if seeing everything for the first time. When he caught sight of Jackery, he frowned in puzzlement before breaking out in a wave of helpless laughter. Jackery couldn’t blame him. The irony of their abruptly switched positions must have been beyond delicious.
“Bring him over to the court,” said the grizzled commander.
“Can’t we just shoot him?” said one of the men holding Jackery. “We all heard what he did.”
“That’s what corrupt governments do,” said the commander. “We’re better than that.”
“What if he signals for the feds to come?”
“How? Mind reading?”
“What if there’s a satellite watching us right now?” said the man.
Everyone paused for a moment to give this possibility serious consideration.
The commander shook his head.
“That would be NSA,” he said. “We’ve got friends there who would warn us. If any of you are feeling too scared to stay, go ahead and hit the road. Me, I figure half an hour to do the right thing won’t make any difference.”
Some of the men looked like they really wanted to leave, but they were torn by the implication it would mark them as cowards. Jackery could see them try to balance the fear of arrest against the fear of losing honor. In the end, with only one exception, honor won out.
The remaining men watched as Jackery was dragged to the table where Westford had been sitting minutes before. The commander stepped over to stand behind the other table. The judge was already seated up on the flatbed.
“Court is once again in session,” said the judge. “Is the prosecution ready to present its case?”
“Yes, your honor,” said the commander.
“You may begin.”
“What about me?” said Jackery, waking from the stupor the sudden turn of events—not to mention the beating—had put him into. “Don’t I get to be ready?”
One of the men flanking him smacked him hard on the back of the head.
“Show the judge some fucking respect,” he said.
“Your honor,” Jackery managed to get out while waiting for his head to clear.
“What is it you’re requesting from the court?”
“A lawyer,” said Jackery, quickly remembering to add, “Your honor.”
The judge frowned, clearly irritated. “Who do you want?”
Jackery twisted his head, scanning the crowd. He looked past the remaining militia members and studied the townspeople. Every face was cold to him. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but there wasn’t a shred of mercy to be found anywhere. Still, he kept looking—partly to stall for time and partly in search of a miracle.
Wonder of wonders, that’s exactly what he found.
#
Barb, Julian, and Danita, along with her parents, crossed the threshold of the grocery doorway and out into the afternoon sun. They joined the townspeople, who were looking around at their town as if seeing it for the first time. Beside Barb, Danita suddenly lit up. She ran over to Maria Sanchez. Danita and Maria hugged each other like drowning victims rescued from the deep.
Barb walked over to join them.
“Thank you so much,” Maria said to Danita, wiping away tears.
“Don’t thank me,” said Danita. “Thank Barb. I mean Ellie.”
Maria gave Danita a confused look and then turned to Barb.
“Barb gets the credit,” said Barb, preserving the charade even though it was no longer strictly necessary. Better safe than sorry. “I’m the lowly assistant.”
That seemed to satisfy Maria. She turned her head toward the clump of militia members surrounding Jackery.
“What’s going to happen to him?” she said. “Not that I have any great liking for him, but…”
“He brought this on himself,” said Barb. “Whatever happens is out of our hands.”
Danita gave Barb a “that’s bullshit and you know it” look. Barb responded with her most innocent smile. Toby wandered up to them. He looked like nothing so much as a little lost lamb.
“I don’t know what to do now,” he said. “Susan’s not my boss anymore, so I guess David is again. But he’s just standing around and not giving any orders.”
“How can you worry about that when a man is about to be murdered in front of your eyes?” said Danita.
“What can I do about it?” said Toby.
“Whatever, Toby.” She turned away from him. After standing for an awkward moment, he wandered off.
Sensing Danita’s mood, Barb slipped away, heading over to where Jackery was being stood up in front of the militia court. She wound her way through the loose crowd of onlookers until she had a front-row view. Stripped of his charisma, Jackery was even smaller and more unassuming than she remembered from that day in the Denny’s. Looking at him now, you’d never know the extent of the misery he was willing and capable of inflicting on the world.
She felt someone come up beside her. She turned, and there was Julian. As he studied the scene in front of them, she studied him. She knew that he’d been inside countless courtrooms in his career and seen plenty of amoral prosecutors and corrupt judges, but she could tell the charade taking place here offended him—probably more than if they’d simply tied Jackery to the pole and shot him.
“Are you going to let this happen?” he said to her.
She considered offering him an excuse or moral rationalization, but they were too good of friends for that. He deserved the unvarnished truth.
“Yes,” she said.
At that moment, Jackery’s head turned in their direction and his eyes landed on Julian. His brow furrowed slightly as if he were at a cocktail party and had just bumped into someone he vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. Then recognition came, and a look of desperate relief filled his face. He pointed to Julian.
“I want him.”