Coldfall Read online

  The FBI had come to where we were staying. Separated us for an interrogation, though they called it an interview. Mom had demanded a lawyer, but was told we didn’t have the right to one. Not yet. Not when the investigation involved terrorism.

  I don’t know what they asked Mom. We didn’t see her for nearly two days and when she came back she wouldn’t talk about it. But she was defeated. Beaten. That much I could tell.

  Tanya and I had each endured our own sessions with the FBI, but they seemed to only be going through the motions by the time I was brought in. There were lots of questions at first about what I knew. What could I tell them about my father’s subversive activities? What did I know about his involvement with the militia? Who else was a member? What were their plans?

  I’d lost my temper toward the end of the interview. Screamed at the agents that they were wrong. My outburst landed me in a pair of handcuffs that weren’t removed until I was returned to my mother.

  And the whole time this was going on, they were tearing our place apart. We’d gotten word a few hours ago that we could go home, so here we were. Sitting in a beat-up Ford truck staring at our broken front door.

  Anger surged through me and I slammed the gear shift into Park and jumped out of the truck. Mom was already yelling at me in a panicked voice and I heard one of the back doors open, but I didn’t care. Charging forward, I began screaming at the two agents.

  “Why did you have to do that, you motherfuckers? The goddamn door wasn’t even locked!”

  They stepped apart and the older of the two raised his palm toward me as I reached the bottom of the porch steps.

  “Easy, son. You don’t want to spend the night in jail.”

  I didn’t care. Noticed, but ignored his partner sweeping his jacket to the side and placing his hand on a holstered pistol. Blood pounded in my ears and all I wanted was to inflict the pain I was feeling.

  Strong arms suddenly wrapped around me from behind and despite my head of steam, I was spun backwards and landed face down in the dirt with a body on top of me. I began to struggle, but whoever it was had position and leverage and I couldn’t break their hold.

  “Joseph, stop. Please!”

  My mother’s voice, but I kept fighting, trying to break free.

  “Cut it out, Joe. Don’t give the bastards an excuse.”

  Tanya whispering in my ear, her hair brushing across my face. Tanya? She was the one who had taken me down and was keeping me pinned?

  “Get off me!” I yelled, struggling harder now that I knew it was a girl on my back.

  But it didn’t matter if it was a girl. I wasn’t gaining anything. She had an arm snaked in front of my right shoulder and across the back of my neck, bending my head forward and rendering my strong arm useless. She also had both of my legs in some sort of scissor hold and I couldn’t use them to fight.

  “No!” she whispered in my ear again. “One of them is ready to pull his gun. Your mother needs you. Stop fighting!”

  Her words slowly reached a more rational part of my brain and with a sigh, I ceased struggling against her hold. Tanya gave me almost thirty seconds to calm myself, then quickly released me and moved away. I turned over in the dirt and sat up.

  The two FBI agents had come off the porch and were standing on either side of me at a respectable distance. Far enough that I couldn’t lunge for either, but close enough that it was doubtful a pistol shot would miss. I was panting, my hands shaking slightly as adrenaline burned out of my system.

  “You should just stay where you are for the moment, son,” the older agent said.

  “I’m not your fucking son!” I spat.

  “Joseph, that’s enough,” Mom said in a quiet voice. “Mary doesn’t need to see this.”

  Her words had the same effect as if I’d been doused by a bucket of ice water. All desire to fight disappeared. Turning my head, I looked at the truck to see my little sister watching me through the windshield.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said softly to my mother. “I’m sorry.”

  She stepped forward and brushed disheveled hair from my forehead. Her touch reinforced that I wasn’t the only one dealing with Dad’s death.

  “Why are you still here?” she asked the FBI agent. “I don’t want you here. Please leave my property. Now!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said after a short pause.

  Reaching into his jacket, he brought out a folded paper and stepped forward, extending it toward my mother.

  “This is a claim form. For the damage.” He tilted his head toward our house. “There’s a mailing address on the bottom. Fill it out and send it in so the Bureau can reimburse you.”

  Mom stared at him without reaching for the document. He finally shook his head and dropped it onto the ground near my feet. Keeping his distance, he circled around me, then got into the Suburban with his partner. The engine started and they drove away, back tires spinning in the dirt, engulfing us in a cloud of dust.

  Chapter 8

  The inside of the house was even worse than I expected. Floorboards had been torn up, furniture overturned and the cushions ripped open. The contents of every closet had been removed to be tossed about haphazardly and there were even multiple holes smashed into the walls with hammers. In the kitchen, glassware had been taken out of cupboards and piled onto the counters, nearly half trickling off the edge to smash into shards on the floor.

  We stood there, looking around in stunned silence. Well, all but Mary. Without a word, she began picking up towels and sheets that had come from a linen closet and folding them as best she could with an eight-year-old’s short arms.

  “This is bullshit!” I said to no one in particular.

  Mom didn’t say anything, just walked into the kitchen, broken glass crunching beneath her boots. She moved a cracked serving tray aside to put her purse on the counter, then began carefully stacking the surviving dishes onto the shelves where they belonged. After a moment of watching, Tanya stepped forward and started helping. Shaking my head in frustration, I began righting the toppled living room furniture and doing the best I could to shove stuffing back inside the damaged cushions.

  Several hours later, we had done as much as could be with what we had. Broken glass was swept up and all the debris from the walls being broken open had been removed. As I hammered the last nail into a split floorboard, a shadow passed over me and I looked up to see Tanya watching me work.

  Getting to my feet, I gathered the tools I’d brought from the workshop and pushed out the front door. It groaned as it opened, but I’d done the best I could to reattach it. Not perfect, but at least we had a door. I was heading across the yard when it groaned again and I glanced over my shoulder to see Tanya trotting to catch up.

  “I filled out the claim form for your mom,” she said, falling into step with me.

  “Thanks.”

  We walked twenty yards in silence.

  “Are you mad at me?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Twenty more yards went by as she stared at me.

  “What?” I finally asked.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was afraid they would hurt you. Maybe even shoot you.”

  I shrugged, not sure what to say to that.

  “Look,” she said, stopping me with a hand on my arm. “I can’t lose anyone else right now. Okay?”

  I turned to face her, prepared to unleash verbal hell for having been made to look like a fool, but the expression on her face shut down my impending tirade. We stood like that for a long time, neither speaking as we looked into each other’s eyes.

  “How the hell did you do that?” I eventually asked.

  She shrugged but didn’t answer. I raised an eyebrow and stared at her until she sighed and began explaining.

  “My dad was a SEAL. He decided a long time ago that no one was going to mess with me unless I wanted them to. He’s been training me since I was in fifth grade.”

  “Your dad was a SEAL?”

  She nodded.


  “Mine was in the Marines,” I said. “A Raider.”

  “I know,” she said, surprising me. “Our dads met in Iraq.”

  “What?”

  I was shocked. There were maybe two or three times I’d ever heard Dad mention Mr. Meadows and it had only ever been in regard to ranching. Why had he never said anything?

  “You didn’t know?” she asked, frowning and tilting her head to the side. “They were friends, Joe. How’d you not know that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I did know, but wasn’t going to admit it to her. Dad didn’t talk about the war. Ever. Sure, I always knew he’d been over there, but I didn’t know what he did. He was a Marine, so I just figured he did, well, Marine things.

  “What you did back there,” I said. “Can you teach me?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Sure. If you promise not to get pissy about a girl kicking your ass.”

  She softened the comment with a smile. Probably the first genuine smile I’d ever seen from her.

  “You surprised me. That’s all,” I said with an embarrassed grin.

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she teased, then we fell silent.

  Before it could get awkward, I started walking again. Tanya came with me and I wondered what was going to happen with her. She was an only child and both her parents were dead. Neither of them had any family. So, at the moment, we were all she had. Was she going to stay with us?

  We were both seniors and would be graduating in a few months. I turned eighteen in a few weeks and would become an adult. That meant I could go anywhere I wanted. But what about her? How old was she? I didn’t even know.

  “When’s your birthday?” I asked.

  “I turned eighteen the day our dads…”

  I stopped in my tracks and turned to her.

  “That was your birthday?” I whispered.

  She nodded, quickly turning away. But not before I saw a tear leak out of her eye and begin to make a trail in the dust on her face. I was reaching out to touch her shoulder when I heard the sound of an approaching car. Turning, I saw a bright red Jeep coming fast and sighed. Sarah.

  She was my girlfriend and I should have been happy to see her. But I wasn’t. I had talked to her a couple of times on the phone while we were at my mom’s friend’s house, but I hadn’t seen her since that morning at school.

  The vehicle came to a sliding stop a few yards away. I caught a glimpse of Sarah and her best friend, Bethany, before I was blinded by the dust cloud kicked up by their arrival. They stayed inside until a breeze cleared the air, then both doors popped open and they got out.

  Sarah’s hair and makeup were perfect and she was wearing a short sundress. High heeled boots that were made to look distressed caused her to wobble slightly in the dirt as she walked toward me. The boots were the style of the day and I’d always thought they were sexy as hell when she wore them.

  I was surprised to realize I was focusing on them and was actually offended. My dad, the hardest working man I’d ever known was dead and here was Sarah wearing something that probably cost more than he had earned in a month. It wasn’t the money that bothered me, it was the idea that her boots would survive about five seconds if she had to do real labor, but she wore them like a badge of honor. She had no clue what an honest day’s work was.

  Bethany, cut from the same cloth, leaned her hip on the Jeep’s fender and stared at her phone, tapping the screen before looking at me.

  “You got Wi-Fi?” she shouted.

  “No.”

  She shook her head, looked around and got back into the Jeep. I could see her leaning toward the middle to play with the radio.

  Sarah walked directly to me, but her eyes were locked on Tanya. She started to stretch up to kiss me, pausing when she got a good look at my dirt and sweat stained face.

  “You need a shower!”

  “Been working,” I said, hoisting the tool bag in my hand.

  She ignored it, gave Tanya another long stare then faced me.

  “There’s a party at the river tonight and my parents are gone until the weekend.”

  She smiled the way that would normally have me panting, but it did nothing for me. I looked down at the ground and shook my head.

  “Can’t make it,” I said quietly.

  I looked up when Sarah didn’t respond. Her hands were on her hips as she glared at me.

  “Why not? Because of her?”

  My mouth fell open in shock and I felt the blood rising into my face.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Tanya asked. “You really think he’s in the mood to go to a party?”

  “Was I talking to you, bitch?” Sarah asked without looking at her.

  Tanya took a step forward and I quickly moved between the two girls before Sarah got her ass stomped into the dirt. At the moment that wouldn’t have really bothered me, but I didn’t need the problem.

  “Sarah, you need to go,” I said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  The last part was automatic and I had no idea if I really would or not.

  “Are you for real? You’re going to stay here with her when you could be at the river with me?”

  I shook my head, unable to deal with her immature jealousy. She’d always been controlling, but I’d never seen this side of her personality. Or maybe I had but had chosen to ignore it because of her other attributes.

  “Now, Sarah. Go now!” I said, surprising myself at the firm tone in my voice.

  She gaped at me for several seconds before spinning and stomping away to her Jeep. The engine revved, then she spun a circle, the tires spitting dirt at us as she rocketed away. Tanya and I stood there, watching the trail of dust speed toward the horizon.

  “What a bitch,” Tanya said. “You could do better.”

  “Hmmph.”

  Turning, I resumed my path to the workshop. Soon, Tanya was walking at my side again.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to butt in to your business.”

  I looked at her to see if she was sincere or just trying to calm the waters. Her apology seemed genuine.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry she treated you that way. There was no reason for it.”

  “I’m used to it,” Tanya said with a sardonic laugh.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you used to it?” I asked.

  “I don’t care about any of the things that I’m supposed to. I could care less about music and awards shows and whatever the latest trend is. I don’t even use Facebook! I’m different. I know that. That makes me odd, which means I’m an easy target for girls like Sarah. And their boyfriends. Remember what you called me the morning… well, that morning?”

  I looked at her and frowned, trying to remember. Finally shook my head.

  “Freak. That’s what you called me. Because I was just sitting there minding my own business.”

  Now I remembered and was aghast that I’d actually done that. Sarah rubbing off on me?

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” she said, giving me a hard look. “Just because I don’t feel the need to act like a brainless, spoiled bitch doesn’t give you or anyone else the right to judge me.”

  There was some venom in her voice that I wasn’t sure she was aware of.

  “You’re right and I really am sorry. I guess… I don’t know. I just didn’t know you. But I shouldn’t have done it.”

  “Just don’t do it again or I’ll have to hurt you,” she said, smiling.

  We had reached the workshop by this time, moving inside. The FBI hadn’t trashed this place like they had the house. There was no point. It was four simple walls with tools hanging from hooks, a workbench with a couple of partially assembled electric motors and a small black and white TV sitting on the end.

  Dad had been a big football fan and as fall deepened into winter there wasn’t as much outdoor work that
needed to be done. This was when he would spend a lot of time in the shop, repairing and maintaining equipment. And watching football.

  The small set was connected to an antenna he’d climbed up and mounted to the top of a tall windmill that pumped water into a stock tank. Despite pleas from both me and Mary, he’d steadfastly refused to get satellite service. He didn’t want us growing up with all the crap that was poisoning America’s youth. His words, not mine.

  So, we had four broadcast channels that came in well enough to watch, if you didn’t mind missing every third or fourth word of the dialogue in a show. I’d always believed that as soon as Mary and I were grown and gone, he’d install a satellite dish for football, if nothing else. And I’d been planning to make a visit home just to give him a hard time about it.

  Lost in my thoughts, I looked around in surprise when the TV screen flared to life. Tanya had found the grease covered remote. It took a few seconds for it to warm up, then a snow filled broadcast of the evening news came on.

  We were looking at a large room with three long folding tables loaded down with weapons that looked like they’d come from a military armory. Twenty or so men stood behind them, some in suits, others in police uniforms as a woman spoke into a cluster of microphones mounted to a podium.

  I started to turn away, uninterested in the news, but froze when I saw the ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

  FBI holds news conf about Meadows’ Militia

  “Turn that up!” I said, but Tanya was ahead of me.

  We stared at the TV in utter disbelief as the woman’s voice grew loud enough to hear.

  “…eapons seized from the Meadows ranch. As you can see before you, the quantity of weapons is significant and posed a real threat to law enforcement. With several former special forces members among the ranchers, they were not only better armed, they were better trained.”

  “Did your dad…?” I breathed, unable to look away from the screen.

  “No! A couple of pistols, a rifle and shotgun for hunting. I’d have known if…”