Chapter Three: Arm and Armor

Ryan lay on the floor of the saloon with Eli’s head resting on one shoulder and Laurie held close to his other side by his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. She was clutching the blanket in a death-grip.

There was a single candle still lit on the round table, where Matt was sitting watch and trying to decode the third paper they’d found at the station while the rest of them tried to sleep. Ray and Tina were huddled on one couch, Geoff and Griffon were on the other side of it, Caiti was sleeping with her head in Jack’s lap on the other couch, and Gavin was curled into an anxious ball next to Meg, who was sitting up and holding Lindsay, very far from asleep.

Without thinking about it, he placed a kiss to Laurie’s forehead; she stirred, but didn’t wake. He couldn’t get the message out of his head; the dried, cracking Rules written on the wall, the pools of blood in the hay, the spent shell casings he found, the look of complete revulsion on Gavin’s face when he saw no Michael and plenty of blood, the scream the Brit let out when he realized the worst probably happened, how desperately they all had to hold him back and force him to calm down, everything. Ryan turned his head and studied Gavin’s face, noting the relaxed lines and unwrinkled eyebrows, the… peacefulness of his expression while he slept. He remembered vaguely hearing something about children sleeping to cope with emotional trauma; it was a trait that some people apparently retained in adulthood.

Meg was combing her fingers absentmindedly through Gavin’s hair, eyes obscured behind candlelight reflections in her glasses. She gave him a reassuring half-smile, a quick message telling him that she was okay, albeit a little shaken up. He heard Matt shuffle the papers and drop his pen in frustration.

He was reminded of how well his wife knew him when she groggily whispered, “You’re not asleep yet.”

So she did wake up.

“No.” he answered.

“I know you’re worried, but your aim will be off if you’re tired.”

He kissed her forehead again. “Yeah, I know,” he sighed.

“Try to sleep, then. Matt’s looking out so Eli’s not in danger.”

Ryan’s arm tightened around his son and Laurie craned her neck up to kiss his jaw. He closed his dry, stinging eyes, relishing the love and worry he was lucky enough to share with her before drifting to unconsciousness.

On the other end of the room, just outside of Ryan’s awareness, Matt angrily shoved the knife he’d used to cut up some apples into the smooth wood of the round table, slowly pushed his chair away to avoid making a noise, and stood, stretching his arms upward and emitting a yawn to accompany the cracks and pops in his back and shoulders. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Meg raise her head a little in a gesture asking him if everything was okay. He closed both hands together next to his head in a symbol of being tired. With the hand she wasn’t carding through Gavin’s hair, she pointed to herself and mouthed, do you want to switch?

He shook his head.

She made a matter-of-fact face and held up one finger to tell him to pause, carefully leaning Lindsay on the sofa’s edge without waking her, gently replacing the leg under Gavin’s head with a cushion, crawling out of her little space, and stepping carefully around Ryan and Co. to take a seat at the round table.

Matt sighed and sat back down opposite of her.

Scribbling quickly on a sheet of scrap paper Matt was using to decode the letters, she asked, any luck?

He presented the code to her for examining.

TTBBQM IVU Q IU,

PQLE I MZL KWIB,

I BNNIA VQ UH PVIL

VLI I BMWVBA QV HU PWIBB

“I think it’s supposed to be a letter shift,” he whispered. “It’s a code that works by writing out the alphabet and then shifting all the letters up or down by a number; it would make this kind of gibberish.”

“I’ve seen them used before by Gavin. Have you tried it yet?” she asked.

“Yeah, up and down by one, two, and three, but I think the letters are scrambled or something.”

“It’ll take forever if you keep randomly guessing what number to shift it by.”

He shrugged. “So what do you think I should do? All we can do is randomly guess.”

She disagreed. “Think of a number significant to Geoff; this is directed at him, after all.”

“He was a Bounty Hunter for twelve years,” Matt recalled, “that could be significant.”

“Okay, that’s a great start!” she gleamed, “You get to work on a shift of twelve backwards; I’ll do a shift forwards.”

They worked diligently under the candle-light, running through the twelve shift, eight shift for the number of years he’d been working at the saloon, fifteen for how long he’d lived in Rooster Teeth, eleven for how old he was when he took down his first rodeo bull, and got nothing. They were three sheets of paper and near-microscopic writing into decoding when Ray appeared at the table, startling Meg, and suggested they try nine �" for how old Millie was.

“How did I not think of that?” Meg grumbled, face-palming.

“Probably because you’re tired as f*ck,” he noted.

Ray was faster at coding because of he’d been a Tracker for longer than Matt, so he worked both a forwards and backwards shift by himself, while Meg and Matt went into the kitchen to grab something to eat.

“Want anything, Ray?” he asked.

Without looking up, Ray told him to get a glass of water.

Meg leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest, heaving a sigh. Now out of Gavin’s earshot, she voiced her worries about him.

“I’ve never seen him so upset.” She started. “He’s strong as f*ck �" my Gavin is strong as f*ck, that’s why he was Geoff’s personal Tracker at the age of twenty �" but, do you know how hard it is to see him like that?” she turned to Matt, who was already in listening mode as he set out their massive pot of coffee on the stove; if he was going to make coffee, he’d make it for everyone. “He’s not a crybaby! He’s not weak! Yeah, he might jump out of his skin if Arya hops on his leg when he’s not expecting it, but he’s not a f*cking coward! None of us are!”

“He still isn’t a coward, Meg,” Matt interjected, tired eyes fluttering closed momentarily.

 She shoved her hair away from her face angrily. “I know he’s not!” she hissed, “It’s just… it’s hard to… he-he-”

“Shouldn’t ever stop smiling?” he finished without looking at her.

“Yeah…” she mumbled. “I don’t want to sound like a weakling or cry in front of him, but I feel so… useless! I can’t do anything while sitting her in the saloon twiddling my thumbs, saying ‘oh, I get what you’re feeling!’”

Matt chuckled.

“What?” she seethed.

He peeled his eyes open and met her gaze so she knew he was being serious. “You, Meg, along with all the other women under this roof, are the strongest person I’ve ever met. People walk around the world while dragging around a cage holding all their personal demons, and as their problems increase, so does the cage’s size-”

“You’ve told me that before!”

He held up a hand to silence her. “Some people, however, are fortunate enough to have wheels on their cages, so no matter how big they get, they’ll never be at a standstill. You created the wheels on Gavin’s cage, just like Tina made the wheels on Ray’s cage, just like Griffon made the wheels on Geoff’s cage, just like Caiti made the wheels on Jack’s cage, and just like Lindsay made the wheels on Michael’s cage. You are not just ‘a woman of the Sunny Gang;’ you and the other women are the Sunny Gang.”

“‘Behind every great man is an even greater woman,’” she quoted.

“Yes. Despite everything that people said about you and Gavin not working, you two have been on the moon. You both have a ‘never say die’ attitude that is fortified by your relationship. Who gives a f*ck if you cry? Who gives a flying f*ck if all you can do is say ‘I understand?’ It’s a lot more than most people do! You will never not be a strong, independent woman! Nothing will ever change that!”

“But what do I do to help him deal with Michael’s… Michael’s-”

“Rule seven,” he cut her off in a warning.

She sighed again, raking her fingers through her hair and massaging her temples, nodding definitively to dismiss the conversation. She switched off the stove under the forgotten coffeepot, picking up an array of empty mugs that Millie had decorated of each of them and placing them on a tray, intending to pour out the servings at the round table. “I just want Millie and Michael back,” she muttered, making to carry the tray.

Matt grabbed it before she could, being met with a puzzled look from her.

“I tend to spill a little bit of coffee when I carry the pot,” he admitted. “And also, Ray’s water.”

Ray was sitting at the table with his glasses in his lap, rubbing his eyes in frustration while Meg darted back in to grab cream and sugar. He’d scribbled furiously over an entire sheet of paper already, and made several circles around words that actually made sense.

“Hey, you got it!” Meg congratulated when she peeked over his shoulder.

Ray scoffed. “I got something. Not quite sure what it means, though.”

Meg began reading the circled words. “Little, man, red, stone, throat, and staff? Huh?”

“My thoughts exactly. It’s a riddle of some sort: ‘little man I am, with a red coat, a staff in my hand, and a stone in my throat.’ Maybe Geoff might know what it’s supposed to mean.”

Right on cue, Geoff said, “I heard my name.” He was stretching his legs on the couch, squinting at the grandfather clock.

“Yeah, Geoff,” Meg replied, repeating the riddle. She gave him his mug of coffee and then proceeded to wake up everyone else and give them theirs. They tossed meanings around for a while, coming up with object after object, person after person, and place after place that mean absolutely nothing to Geoff. Griffon, Tina, Lindsay, Ryan, and Caiti were still pretty out of it, having not slept all that well, and Eli was still out for the count, wrapped up in the blanket the Haywoods had shared throughout the night. Meg sat down next to Gavin, welcoming the arm looped around her shoulders.

Suddenly, Geoff stood up.

“What?” Matt asked.

“Cherry,” he wondered aloud. “The riddle is referring to a cherry.”

“What the f*ck does a f*cking cherry have to do with all this?” Ray hollered, slamming his empty mug down on the round table. “I WORKED THIS THING FOR FIVE HOURS FOR A F*CKING CHERRY?”

“You have got to be kidding me…” Gavin shook his head.

Geoff patted his shoulder. “No, no, it’s not bullsh*t. I think I know where Michael is, little buddy.”

The Brit, Ryan, and Griffon woke up fully in a heartbeat.

“You do?”

“Yeah. Joel said someone’s outside of town, right?”

Everyone nodded.

“I know where,” Geoff smiled, “And I can almost guarantee that if it’s who I think it is, Michael’s there.”

Gavin winced. “But… all that blood!”

“There were two different contributors,” Matt reminded him, “So it’s entirely possible Michael’s still alive.”

“Well, we have to go now, then! Michael probably needs us!”

“Hey, Geoff,” Ray interpolated, “I don’t know if it means anything, but the code was an alphabet shift, nine forward, and there was another random word that doesn’t fit anywhere: Backdoor.”

This time, Geoff clapped his hands together. “It’s him! It’s definitely him, and he’s got Millie!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Geoff!” Griffon held up both hands. “Who’s got Millie? And what is he doing to her?”

Geoff opened his mouth to say something in response, but instead turned to Gavin, asking him to bring his box of papers from the gun safe in the kitchen. He handed his coffee to Meg and scrambled up immediately.

“Close off everything,” he instructed, “I don’t want a sound or sight to escape these walls.”

They closed all the blinds, locked the upstairs door, drew down the curtains, and hung a blanket up over the saloon door to completely obscure it, stuffing rags and tea towels into gaps in the window frames to prevent a sound from escaping. Gavin, meanwhile, returned with rather heavy-looking steel box held shut with a combination lock.

“Gather round everyone,” he said,” I don’t want to talk too loud.”

A look of recognition crossed Griffon’s face when he pulled out a red file folder that had the name “Burns” scribbled on it.

“Way back when I was a Bounty Hunter, the law stated that Bounty Hunters had to be in groups of two or three in order to operate instead of a Hunter and a Tracker team, like the law today says,” he started. “Any Hunter that didn’t follow the law or wasn’t registered to operate on their own was picked up by Washington and thrown into the Security Alliance for the International Narcotics Tracking Program, or SAINT Program, if they didn’t want to go to jail. It was founded and designed by some dude ages ago to combat the high level of illegal drug trafficking in the southern American border; they took the best Hunters they could find and systematically paired them together to make a Hunter-Tracker team that would then be assigned one person in the illegal narcotics trade to keep tabs on. The Tracker almost always found some way to infiltrate the supplier’s ranks as an undercover, and keeping their names quiet so that they could keep infiltrating meant that the public had no idea who they were or that they even existed �" and I’m pretty sure no one still knows about it �" and instead praised the Hunter, making him or her the center of attention.”

“You were in this program?” Tina questioned.

“Yep. I was yanked onboard with another Hunter �" who became the Tracker in our pair �" by the name of Michael ‘Burnie’ Burns. The first runs we had were with smaller drug dealers in Alabama and Georgia while we scraped the bottom of the barrel to get information on the head of the whole operation. Because we managed to undercover bust nineteen cartels without ever being made for it, we took point when we had to take down the king of the narcotics trade: Adam Ellis.”

Ryan chocked on his sip of coffee. “Wait, The Hornet?”

He nodded.

“You took down that guy?”

“We both did,” Geoff admitted, flipping through papers. “Burnie has this strange ability to remember things for days on end and write them all down in shorthand when he was in a safe location, so SAINT thought it made sense to have him as the undercover in Ellis’s operation for about six months; in that time, he ran drugs all the way around the country, worked as one of his best attack dogs, and checked in with me at a small cottage outside of town. He’d pick off a number of cherries from the tree in the backyard of the cottage to denote how close he was to a bust on a scale of one to ten. He’d leave them in a flowerpot next to the backdoor of the house-”

“The code,” Ray noted.

“Exactly. About four months into the case, he told me about a threat made to Griffon, who was pregnant at the time. We devised a code that corresponded to each of our families: a letter shift that matched the age of the person who was taken, a secret phrase that corresponded to the person, stuff like that. For my family, the phrase was ‘backdoor’ because we needed something immediately and it was the only thing that came to mind.”

“But why would Burnie know anything about this?” Gavin asked. “I mean, you got the guy, right? So how does he know any of this?”

“Have you noticed how the drug trade suddenly went up again?”

Laurie spoke up this time. “You think he escaped?”

Geoff nodded. “That seems like the case. And if he did escape, he’d want Burnie back because he was his best guy to run the drugs. You see, Ellis never found out how I got him.”

“I would’ve found out about The Hornet escaping prison, though,” Jack said. “Unless it was an inside job.”

“What do you mean?” Ray asked.

Jack began to explain. “For that last few months, convicts have been escaping left and right from large penitentiaries, seemingly from right under the nose of the guards. I tried opening up an investigation across Texas to see if I could pinpoint the problem, but Hullum shut it down, told me that he’d put me away if I continued investigating.” He pulled out his wallet. Next to him, Caiti seemed to be paler than she was a few moments ago. “I continued investigating on my own and went down to Houston PD to gather some more information; I was attacked and detained down there for a week.”

“Why didn’t you tell us any of this?” Matt demanded.

“Because I was given a warning,” Caiti mumbled. “I walked outside one morning to water my flowers when a man tore through on a black Quarter Horse and threw a stone at me. It hit my knee and had a note tied to it.”

Jack presented a wrinkled strip of paper to Geoff. “‘Worse will come. Stay out.’” He read.

“I stopped pursuing it immediately.” Jack admitted.

“Geoff,” Griffon gaped, “Didn’t I…”

“Yeah,” he nodded, an angry wrinkle forming between his brows, “You were also hit with a rock by some guy on a Quarter Horse.”

“So this isn’t new?” Lindsay pressed.

Geoff returned the paper, explaining, “No, it’s the signature of another one of Ellis’s best attack dogs, Blaine Gibson. Powerful son of a b*tch liked killing people by hitting them in the head with rocks. His warnings were aimed at the knees to make it hard for people to run; then he’d take a huge chunk of rock and slam it into someone’s head, killing them almost instantly.”

Caiti’s eyes were wide as saucers, her mouth turned down in a look of pure disgust. Jack saw her and instantaneously hugged her close, smoothing her hair down to comfort her.

“Do you really think all the criminals bailing was an inside job? It’d have to be a huge operation to make that fly.” Matt clarified.

“It has to be; there’s no way twelve criminals could just escape the Texas state penitentiary; the only place more armed and guarded is Guantanamo Bay. I wanted to peg Hullum for it because he wanted me to stay off the case so badly, but I was too worried about Caiti to say anything.”

“Wait �" Meg, wasn’t the inn up for sale?”

She nodded. “Hullum bought it. For twelve thousand…” �" a look of horror crossed her �" “Six hundred dollars…”

“That’s it!” Gavin declared, standing up, “If Ellis escaped and is reassembling his army, Hullum has to be in on it! There’s no way those two aren’t connected! We need to go talk to this Burnie guy now.”

“Arm and armor, guys.” Ryan ordered, “Geoff, take point on this one; you know what’s going on.”

He agreed. “Ray, grab your guns and grenades, Laurie, get your med kit and put on a bullet vest; you’re coming with us in case he’s hurt.”

She nodded and ran upstairs.

“Matt, you’ll take charge should we get into a fight, so get your gear and knives.”

He bolted behind Laurie.

“Ryan, get a bullet vest on and call anyone in the Tracking circle who can provide us some backup.”

“Got it!”

“Jack, do you have any guys at the station that you can still trust?”

He nodded, “I’ll make a few calls.”

“Lindsay, Meg, you two need to arm and armor as well, just in case the fight comes to the saloon. Keep your ears peeled for any hint of what might be going on in the town. Let’s go!”

.....

They wrapped themselves and the horses in blankets and tarps to protect them from the horrendous rain pelting them as they exited the south side of town, off a beaten path and towards a strip of trees separating the desert from the hilly underbelly of coastal Texas. It was a ways from town �" an hour or so by galloping horse �" through a good chunk of forest littered with tree branches, whole fallen trees, rocks, vines, bushes, and the like; because it was so undisturbed, there wasn’t a track carved into the forest, so it made it much harder for the horses to navigate between trees; the task was made a little easier, however, from the lack of rain falling through the trees so they could actually see where they were going. Geoff was the first to see the cottage. He held up a closed fist to signal them all to slow down and approach cautiously.

It was a single floor, small enough for two �" maybe three �" people to live inside. The roof had peeling shingles of three different red shades, covered in leaves and twigs that stubbornly clung to it despite the rain. The chimney looked like it had been hit by something large and was bent at an awkward angle to the front; a ratty bird nest was tucked under the bend, shielded from rain. The porch had an old rocking chair and a three-legged table on one side and a potted cactus on the other. A peeling black metal fence covered in thorny vines that were thick enough to hide sharp arrowheads of the fence ran all the way around the perimeter, protecting a massive cherry tree in the backyard from the wildlife.

Geoff hopped off and jogged to the porch, calling for Burnie to open up or he’d kick the door in. Before he could even knock, it swung open. He was met with the familiar half-grin of Burnie Burns, the other half of his former SAINT Program Bounty Hunter team. His hair was kept in a neat pile of brown curls at the top of his head and smoothed down and away from the rest of his face on the sides. He still had the same glasses from eight years ago, a thicker rectangular black frame that perched on his straight nose. He’d trimmed his beard to be closer to his face than eight years ago, a change that suited him, even if it made him look less like a drug-runner.

“Took you long enough,” he said, extending both arms for a hug.

Geoff didn’t reciprocate, but instead asked, “Where’s my daughter?”

“Not here, but she’s okay.”

Geoff looked about ready to scream.

“What about Michael?” Ryan asked, cautious of this Burnie character. “He’s a Jersey fellow, about as tall as Gavin,” �" he pointed to him �" “curly hair, glasses.”

 “Yeah-he…” Burnie stopped, dropping his tone to almost inaudible. “You might want to come inside,” he suggested, holding the door wider for them. Ryan looked at Geoff with uncertainty, but the latter entered the cottage, bringing a worried Gavin with him. Ray shrugged and followed, but kept his hand on his holstered gun. Ryan curled a protective arm around Laurie and also entered. He was immediately assaulted with the smell of too many flowers, rubbing alcohol, and a hint of rusting metal, all of which worried him deeply about the state of Michael.

“It smells like blood in here,” Laurie whispered as they followed down a hallway.

He murmured an agreement without moving his lips.

The “living room” was a couch, an assortment of chairs, and floor cushions, all of which looked like they belonged in an eighty-year-old woman’s house. Burnie directed them to sit down, but they all independently refused.

“The man’s room isn’t big enough for all of you,” a woman spoke up from another hallway. “I’m Ashley, by the way.”

“His name is Michael, Ash,” Burnie corrected. “He’s one of Geoff’s friends.”

Laurie piped up, “Let me see him; I’m a vet, so I can patch up injuries.”

“Burnie already took care of that; he’s pretty darn good at patchwork, too, but come right this way,” she replied, “It’ll do you some good to assess him since you know him better.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll come along,” Ryan asserted in more of an ultimatum than a suggestion.

Ashley smiled. “Sure!”

Once they were out of earshot, Ashley slowed down, muttering quickly under her breath. “Burnie brought him here yesterday and set up a clean environment as soon as he could. I’ll warn you: he’s not in good shape. He took and dished out one hell of a beating �" evident by his knuckles �" so he’s got more than a few bumps and bruises. Burnie also thinks he might have a skull fracture near the top of his head and definitely knows he has a serious concussion, so he’ll be out of the front lines for almost a month.”

“I can guarantee you that Michael will push himself in half the time,” Ryan jested.

Ashely looked at him with wide, serious eyes. “No… Michael will be out for a month. He took four bullets; three others grazed him.”

“What?” Laurie gasped.

“Both his legs and his right shoulder are broken, and the last bullet hit his hip and got wedged on the outer part of his pelvis. Poor baby was barely breathing; luckily, one of Burnie’s friends from college is a doctor and set up some oxygen for him. He also managed to pull the bullet out of his pelvis without putting him through major surgery.” She stopped outside a door, putting her hand on the handle. “He’s in here. Be careful what you say; even comatose patients can still hear sometimes.”

Ryan and Laurie both nodded.

Ashley opened it and stepped aside.

Michael was lying on his back, covered loosely to the waist with white linens. His face was indeed bruised badly under faintly-red bandages wrapped around his head. He had similar bandages coiled around his shoulder and neck, his waist, and his hands, which where stained darker than everything else. His breathing was slow and even through the oxygen mask, an uncomfortable-looking piece of plastic that covered his nose and mouth, held in place by an elastic strap that curved around his skull just above and below his ears. Through distortion in the linens’ fall, Laurie could see that his legs were clearly plastered from the knee down and were being held in place with pillows to prevent his legs from rolling.

Ryan was the first to speak. “Any idea who did this?” he asked.

Burnie appeared behind them, stating, “No, but whoever it was, they’re messed up really badly; I found a tooth embedded in his knuckle.”

“Ugh,” Laurie retched.

“I don’t want Gavin back here,” Ryan continued, “not until we know exactly what’s going on.”

“What’re you going to tell him, sweetie?”

He shrugged. “That Michael needs rest right now or something. I’ll figure it out, but we can’t afford to be down another one; not at this time.”

They were lead back to the living room, where the rest of the gang had settled down. Laurie sat down next to Geoff; Ryan sat down between her and Gavin, patting the lad on the back reassuringly. Gavin gulped and looked at him worriedly.

“Michael needs to rest right now,” was all he was willing to say.

Gavin, clearly unhappy with the response, nervously picked the numb spot of his face, an area near the side of his jaw that he frequently plucked clean of beard hair when he was nervous, bored, or silently angry. As Burnie cleared his throat, Ryan lowered Gavin’s arm so he wouldn’t continue picking.

“Did you have something to do with the Stables, Burnie,” Geoff asked, “Matt’s determined that there were at least two bleeders. One of them was no doubt Michael; I have a feeling you know about the other.”

Burnie laughed. “Yeah, I do! It was old Porkie!”

“Pig’s blood? You used pig’s blood?”

“Yep.”

Geoff was bewildered. “Why?”

“I had to make it look convincing. I even left the coded message for you guys before I brought him back. I think the attacker wrote the message on the walls, though.”

“What happened?”

“I’m going to guess you guys don’t really know what’s going on,” Burnie started, “so let me take you back to the beginning.”

“How important is this?” Geoff asked. “I know your love for a good camp-fire story.”

Burnie smiled darkly. “Pay attention. This is all relevant. Do they know about SAINT?”

Geoff nodded.

Ryan stopped Gavin from picking again.

“Three months ago, I caught wind from Gustavo Sorola, a former SAINT Bounty Hunter, about a series of prison breaks across Texas, Louisiana, Georgia, Alabama, and Oklahoma; a number of very high-profile targets we took out in the initial SAINT raids had found some way to worm their men into the system and release them over a period of six months. Because the prison breaks were over state lines, no one managed to connect the dots until Gus started investigating an attack on him, in which someone tore through his neighborhood on a black Quarter horse and tried hitting him with a stone-”

“Gibson,” Geoff growled.

Burnie nodded, “Yeah. He thought he’d been made, so he relocated to Austin and opened up an investigation at the Texas State Penitentiary to figure out how he escaped. Get this,” �" Burnie leaned in closer to the group �" “he’d been let out on parole for good behavior.”

Ryan interjected this time, “Wait, I was at the trial! He wasn’t offered parole in his sentence!”

Burnie held up his hand. “I know. When Gus pulled the file, he noticed the handwriting on the sentence documents was different from the court documents, so he tried contacting the judge. He found out that the judge took a different name and got a job as the warden of the penitentiary! His handwriting on the release form matched the sentence documents!”

“So, he wrote the sentence?” Geoff asked, to which Burnie nodded again, “Then who was the other person who wrote the rest of them?”

“The actual judge.”

Everyone was confused.

“The man who wrote the other documents was the actual judge in the trial; Gus found out he’s been killed, his identity was stolen, and the identity thief changed his fake-name to get into the penitentiary.”

“What was his second fake name?” Ryan inquired.

“The handwriting was illegible.”

“Does anyone remember what he looked like?”

Burnie held up his hand. “Yeah, and here’s another strange thing: a man matching the same description but with different names was a warden at all five states. He had black hair, light eyes, thin-framed, rectangular glasses, and a Boston accent.”

Matt jumped in his seat, slamming his fist down on his leg. “Geoff, that’s Kdin! That has to be Kdin!”

Ashley jabbed Burnie in the arm, “That’s what he said!” she exclaimed, “That’s what he said when I was changing his dressings! I though he was saying ‘caved-in,’ or something like that, but he was saying Kdin!”

“That would explain why he reacted so badly to the doctor,” he mused, rubbing his chin, “dark hair and glasses may have set off a defensive response.”

“That f*cking son of a b*tch!” Matt growled, “I knew I should’ve thrown his a*s in jail for attacking Aaron!”

“You couldn’t have known anything, Matt!” Ray spoke up, “It’s not your fault!”

“I could’ve prevented this if I had just listened to my gut!”

“Then it would’ve been someone else!” Ray growled. “Listen to yourself! Do you think Kdin would’ve stopped at anyone if he had the audacity to take down Michael? No! He’s a monster, we all know that �" we’ve all known that for years �" so blaming yourself for his f*cked up head is not going to get us anywhere! Be grateful it was Michael and not anyone who couldn’t handle it, because if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t have given half a horse sh*t about catching him!”

Matt stood and started yelling. “Of course I would, you sh*tbag! I’m not an a*shole!”

Ray also stood, clenched fists down by his side. “Motherf*cker, you’re the one with the whole ‘it’s my fault’ complex!”

“Enough! Both of you!” Ryan hissed, silencing both of them. “Sit you’re a*ses down!”

Ray plopped back into his seat. Matt remained standing, glaring at Ryan. Without looking, the latter gritted, “Now.”

Matt seated himself.

“So where’s this all going?” Geoff asked once the air was cleared.

Burnie hesitantly carried on. “From what we’ve been able to track, the original drug ring is reassembling rapidly �" it probably has already �" and Ellis isn’t stopping at anything to get his hands on his drugs again. I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere close to the station, but I heard of Michael getting taken down, so I brought him here and sent off a signal to you. Also from what I can gather, Ellis took Millie from you to back you into a corner to begin with, said something about ransom money-”

“That’s what Michael was bringing him,” Gavin interrupted. “A full thirteen grand in a black bag.”

Burnie looked surprised. “Wait �" he has the money already?”

Geoff nodded with narrow eyes. “Yeah, and the inn at Rooster Teeth was up for sale for the last month and no one bought it. Matt Hullum, our mayor, bought it yesterday for twelve thousand six-hundred. News about it broke when we went out looking for Michael.”

Jack continued Geoff’s explanation. “I tried investigating the break outs myself, but I was forced to shut it down because I was getting heat from Hullum. He told me to stay out of his business. He’s also been on the down low with the whole inn situation; he forced Meg out of it in the first place by bogging her down with false debt.”

“He doesn’t want anyone on the first floor either.”

Burnie was rubbing his chin again.

“On top of that,” Matt added, “I had a contact in the town tell me that someone was trying to shut up a lot of people and that he doesn’t trust Hullum.”

 “Where’s Sorola now?” Jack asked, “I’d like to see if we came up with the same conclusions about the prison breaks.”

“He’s been taken hostage. I’ve been trying to find out where he might be without tipping anyone off, but I’m getting nowhere. His wife is incredibly distraught.”

“And where is she?”

“SAINT protective custody,” he pointed towards the south, “Down that way, I suppose.”

“Would she have his notes?”

Burnie shook his head again, “It’s no use; it doesn’t matter what the notes say. Bottom line is this: Ellis has managed to assemble the largest army possible from this part of the woods, he thinks he’s got you guys backed into a corner, and one of his men has made himself very much known. Our best bet is to get inside the group.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Gavin angrily requested.

He turned to Matt. “You’re the new one in the group, yes?”

He nodded.

“And Millie knows who you are?”

“Yeah… where’re you going with this?”

“Does Kdin know you’re part of the gang?”

“… No, but we got into a fight a few days ago. I mean, look at my face!”

Burnie began smiling. “Who won?”

“Uh, me, I guess?”

“Good, you’ve already proven yourself to be an able fighter. You’ll be our mole.”

“What?”

“I know Ellis is planning a meeting at the inn in thirteen hours. All I know is that Millie will not be at the inn; she’ll be under heavy guard at Red Bull; extract Millie, and then take out Ellis-“

“Take out Ellis?” Geoff screeched, “We’re not a hit squad!”

“I know that! But when we get Millie back, do you think he’s just going to let it slide? No! He’s going to straight-up murder you’re a*ses!”

“And what, the other guys in the group will just let us waltz on out of there once the bullets start flying?” he yelled.

Burnie slapped his palm on his forehead. “No, idiot… listen to me! Everyone else in Ellis’s squad are recruits; they’re not dangerous as individuals-“

“Except for Blaine Gibson,” Jack chimed in angrily. “The guy could’ve killed my wife!”

Burnie met the furious eyes of Jack with unprecedented calm, a storm of his own brewing behind a mask of serenity. Behind him, Ashley placed a hand gingerly on his shoulder, giving it a shaky squeeze. With segmented, controlled words, he answered to Jack, “I. Am. Going. To. Take. Care. Of. Gibson. Myself.”

Around the room, everyone fell silent. The storm reminded them of its presence with a rumble.

Burnie continued in the same tone of voice, “I can introduce Matt as my plus-one to Ellis and put him on station-patrol; half of you are going to covertly follow him there. The other half will be outside the inn. Inn team’s only job is to eliminate Ellis. Millie team’s only job is to extract her, drop her off at a safe location, and book it to the inn for backup.”

“Don’t we have to worry about Kdin recognizing him? He might get suspicious.” Ryan asked.

Burnie shook his head. “He knows better than to call me out or roll on me.”

Geoff’s eyebrows rose. “Does that have anything to do with… that incident?”

“It has everything to do with that incident.”

Ryan looked at the mustached man for an explanation, but got a “don’t ask questions” expression from him.

Gavin made a time out symbol with his hands. “Guys, how should we set up? And how do we know Millie won’t blow the whole thing when she sees Matt?”

“I’ve had a chance to talk to her already; she knows to stay quiet if she sees any one of you guys.” Burnie said.

Laurie whispered, “Atta girl.”

“Other than Matt being the insider, we’ll need three gunners: a sniper, who’ll also be the spotter, on high ground in case things go awry, and two gunners on the ground to provide suppressing fire while Matt bails with Millie. The situation will make like Matt had no idea that hit was going down, so he’ll play dumb and while everyone is busy with the two gunners, he’ll run with her. When Millie is dropped off, someone will need to hold the fort to keep her safe, and if things go to sh*t at the fort, that someone will need to know where to run to-“

“I have a great backup location in mind, so I can stay with her,” Ryan said.

Burnie nodded. “You also have the most firepower, from what I hear, so putting you on Millie team is a good idea. Ray is obviously going to be the sniper; no question there, and Jack can be the second gunner; his shotgun skills might be needed-“

Geoff bellowed, “Oh, f*ck, no! I’m going to be there for the extraction!”

“Geoff, you need to be reasonable,” Burnie talked over him. “You’re a good gunman, I know, but you’re targeting skills in a full-on lead war are what we need. You and I are going to gut the inn, just like in the old days, and flush out Ellis when our backup arrives.”

The frustrated father exhaled an exasperated sigh. Burnie isn’t wrong, he thought. No one else would be able to pull him out of the inn like us. He nodded stiffly, twisting his wedding ring around and around his finger.

“What about the women still at the inn? They might get attacked.” Laurie asked, reading Geoff’s thoughts.

Ashley spoke up this time. “Diverting them to a safe location might be a good idea. Also, because you’re a vet, meeting Millie at the drop of location would also be a good idea, just in case she’s �" God forbid �" got… a few… scrapes or bruises.”

“I’ll get the women out of the saloon,” Gavin volunteered.

“Guys!” Ray interjected. “We’re forgetting about Hullum! What do we do about him?”

“He won’t be at the meeting, so we’ll need to find him. Ellis would know where he is.” Burnie said.

“I’ll kill that son of a b*tch,” Geoff muttered under his breath. “My daughter and then Michael? No. no, you don’t get to go to prison for that. You don’t mess with my family and get to go to prison.”

Burnie stood. “Then let’s make that son of a b*tch sorry he knew your name.”