Chapter Three: Deputized

Some when along the way, we had been disconnected from the 911 operator. No surprise there. I dialed again and the same shaky voice answered. I gave my name, and the voice hesitated, then said, "Hold on, I'll get the sheriff."

A gruff voice spoke. "Sheriff Reynolds, speaking. Please restate your name and the nature of your emergency."

I identified myself again and then gave him a summary of the situation up to the present.

He replied, "Mr. James, you may have run into two felons who escaped while being transported to the penitentiary in Sioux Falls, and they are very dangerous. BUT we have a situation here, and I'm afraid I have no one to send. Probably wouldn't get there in time to be much help anyway."

He continued, "This sounds crazy, but an hour ago we had a crash landing of some sort, and every deputy, marshal, and state trooper we have is headed southeast of you to deal with the mess they caused there. We don't know much, but we think they are Sa'arm, and the local marshal, state patrol captain, and I were just leaving to set up a joint command post."

I was shocked they were getting so far, so fast! Then he asked, "Do you have any prior military service?"

I answered in the affirmative, and added that I was still a reserve commissioned officer.

Then he asked if I was armed. When I again responded affirmatively, he replied, "Listen! What I can do is swear you in as a special deputy. That wouldn't help outside my county, but my friend Marshal Pope will also swear you in as his deputy."

This time I was stunned, and my guest's jaw dropped.

Marshal Pope came on. "Okay – I want you to use your cell phone to record this. You may need it. Ready?

"Before I swear you in, we have instructions. One, minimize your risk. Two, if you catch them in the act, forget about Miranda Rights and do what you need to. Three, with all the Swarm activity north of us, I'm thinking you are going to be called to active duty as soon as someone gets off his lead ass and finds you.

"Until then, I want you to consider yourself my deputy-marshal-at-large. You are not to be a vigilante, but you are going to be 'the law' in the 'old west' style. Four, I would continue somewhat further south if I were you, then head east. Rapid City is already crazy congested – take care!"

My head was swimming, and then they each swore me in. Damn! They both gave me their cell phone numbers and hung up.

"We don't have a lot of good choices here," I said. "The routes south and north are uncertain and likely chaotic and dangerous. We just don't know what is going on. I do have enough food and water in the Sienna, for at least a couple of weeks. We could find a place to hole up around here for a while – even this cabin."

Rachel looked me in the eyes and declared, "I want blood, deputy. Lots of blood! You accepted the job, now do your duty."

Okay. The lady was pissed. For that matter, so was I – big time.

We decided to make a quick return to my Sienna and gather all the gear necessary for an extended hike with probable overnight camping. I hated to spend the time, but we decided we would be of little use disabled or dead.

With no probable need for stealth, the return to the road was quicker than the trip to the cabin. At the faster pace, snow squeaked and crunched as we walked. We were able to talk, but were limited somewhat by travel on the narrow trail.

Rachel talked about her life with Jack, how she met him, how he wooed her, and how they loved each other. It spilled from her, and I listened.

They were high school teachers at the same school. He taught English, and she taught physics and advanced mathematics. She giggled, and then choked up when she described blending their salt and pepper approaches to life.

When we reached our vehicles, we (she) continued talking while we chose and packed clothing and our gear. We took the sleeping bags but not the tent. I had two army ponchos with poncho liners, so we took them to use as ground cloths. I packed a set of camp pots and utensils but not the camp stove.

We were roughing it. Well, maybe. There were cabins after all. Then I moved the Sienna further down the road, locked it, and disabled it again.

We checked each other and then were off.

All together, we probably lost something over an hour returning to the cars and packing. It was an early dark, but the filtered light was enough for our adjusted eyes to follow the path.

The snow had stopped for a while, and was now mostly six inches deep. That helped us follow the killers' tracks, but made the going slower and somewhat treacherous. Clumps of snow dropped from trees as we walked.

Our boots still crunched as we walked along, and knowing our prey was probably a good distance ahead, we talked with low voices.

Knowing Rachel probably needed to air out her feelings, I encouraged her to tell me more about herself.

"I just turned twenty-seven last month." she started, "and have been teaching near here since I got my masters four years ago.

"I told you that Jack and I met where we teach and were married two years ago. He was a sweet, kind man and an excellent teacher. I hurt now, but I think it will be terrible later."

She held in a sob.

"I grew up an Army Brat. Dad was stationed in Germany, England, and Japan and all over the good old USA. By the time I finished high school, I had attended more schools than there are grades. Luckily, I'm pretty smart, and the military schools had good teachers. I went to college on a National Merit Scholarship and had a dual major in physics and education. With a grant and an assistantship, I was able to go straight through to a masters in education."

The snow was still holding off; the wind was low; and we were making steady progress.

"I'd guess," she speculated, "that you are curious about my statement that I know rifles and pistols." I nodded and she continued. "You may have seen the old movie 'Iron Eagle' where an Air Force Brat learns to fly jets in simulators." I nodded again. "Well that extreme is almost certainly bull, but it is true that we brats can have access to a lot that civilian kids would NEVER see.

"I joined the Army-sponsored junior rifle club while dad was stationed in Munich, and I had my own .22 target rifle before I was in junior high. I was in the Scouts - and not the cookie selling type either. I was bootlegged in with the boys. Several of us girls hiked, camped, and learned outdoors skills with the best of them. You haven't lived until you've spent a late fall weekend camping in the Bavarian Alps!

"Back to guns. Once a brat like me demonstrates competence and responsibility with light caliber weapons, our fathers tend to model the civilian 'take your daughter to work days.' Only with me, it morphed into 'take your kid to the range day.' Over the years I've fired BARs, the old M-1s - rifle and carbine, and I'm qualified 'expert' on the M-14, M1911, and several iterations of the AR-15 and M-16. I confess that I was somewhat of a gun geek."

I laughed. Then she turned the tables, "So just who is this Michael James - other than White Knight and rescuer of distressed damsels?"

I was silent. How in the hell do you match someone like this lady?

"I'm a Georgia boy, son of a veteran. I grew up near Fort Benning, so I know a little about your kind of upbringing. Dad was already out by the time I came along, so my version is the civilian one.

"Dad had me shooting almost as soon as I could hold a rifle. We did a lot of target shooting, but we fished rather than hunted. I was on my high school's rifle team and did well. I never knew exactly how, but Dad had access to all sorts of military weaponry, and we fired everything he had. One of his buddies had a range out in the country and ran a small business selling reloading and shooting supplies. He may have been Dad's source, but I only suspected ... .

"We hiked and camped a lot, too. Not so much in the mountains though.

"I went to the University of Georgia in Athens on an ROTC scholarship. I majored in Journalism - which by the Army's twisted logic - made me a shoo-in for the Signal Corps. By their definition, that's a combat arms assignment, but it really wasn't so much. I spent a year in Korea as a communications officer for a missile battalion, a year in Germany as a signal company commander, and was an instructor for the Signal Officer Advanced Course when my knee was screwed up in a car wreck.

"I can hike pretty far at a reasonable pace, but I no longer held a 'picket fence' physical profile. The Army was drawing down, so I was given a medical discharge. I had started on an MBA at the local university, so I used my GI Bill and finished up.

"Before my MBA was done, the Army started ramping up again, and they hired me back as a civilian instructor - same job, no uniform.

"I have to tell you, as a product of college ROTC, my training in small-unit tactics was very limited, but I know my way around field communications. In our current situation, I wish it was the other way around.

"Mom and Dad moved up here while I was still at UGA. Dad died a two years ago. I took an indefinite leave last spring and came up here to help Mom through a terminal bout of cancer. Until Mom died, she was pretty much my whole focus, and I ignored the Swarm landing in Canada. I was just starting back to Georgia with a van full of 'inheritance' when I pulled over to pee and found you."

Her turn for silence, then, "I think we are well matched for this task, Michael James, well matched indeed."

I had to agree.