Dog Days of Summer (Damned of the 2/19th Book Four) - Finished

Fear and a Phone

Centralia, Washington

United States of America

11 August 1986

2235 Hours

John's brothers had shown up earlier in the day, after John had called them from a phone booth and given them directions. They'd offered to take the three women back with them, but all three of them had refused, preferring to stay with us until everything played out.

They were all angry over what had been done to them, to us, and I realized that the Matrons had screwed up royally. Times had changed, especially over the last 20 years, while most of them were already adults, and many of them did not understand just how much the world, and the people in it, had changed.

The Bomber boys had headed back to help Amy-Joe and Mary-Joe guard my sister. They'd mentioned that a lot of men had come in, badly busted up, the night before or early in the morning.

John and my handiwork.

We'd dropped the girls off at the motel by the I-5 onramp in northern Centralia, paying cash for the room. The guy behind the desk had given me a knowing, leering wink, at the sight of four women and two guys getting a room. I'd done nothing to dissuade him of his presumptions, instead just grinned at him, then walked with the girls to the room.

That would keep them out of trouble.

Leaving them behind meant the farm was compromised, but there was nothing there any more that I needed that bad. It could be abandoned and it wouldn't damage our plans in the slightest. I still had three more boltholes before I had to go to tertiary sites.

It had served its purpose.

The girls ran the risk of being captured, and even though they had offered to go with us, we had told them it would be better if they stayed behind. Nancy had made excuses about them keeping an eye on the gear we left behind, about having them as a reserve, and about needing them ready to patch us up if we came back busted up.

Lies, but lies that kept them out of the way of what was about to happen.

They were noncombatants.

Now we were standing at the side of the truck in the parking lot of a Taco Bell, smoking cigarettes and watching what little traffic was on the streets go by. John was drinking a beer, same as Nancy, but I was drinking Orange Crush.

"I like this feeling." Nancy said suddenly, tossing her empty beer bottle into the back of the truck and grabbing a ginger-ale out of the mixed case of soda in the back. She popped the tab while John finished the swig of beer and I raised an eyebrow.

"What feeling?" John asked.

"That everything's about to come to a point." She grinned, the scar on the side of her face twisting. "I love the feel of the sharp end."

Bomber chuckled and she elbowed him. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"You're not my real dad." John answered. Nancy stuck her tongue out at him and I laughed.

"We gonna do this in order?" John asked.

"Barring any surprises." I told him.

"They're gonna realize pretty quick that you're working your way through a list." Nancy said. A cop car went by slow, then sped up once it was a ways past us.

"Right, which is why we skew targets at those two points on the list." I explained. Again.

Both of them nodded.

"You know, I'm Texan." John started.

"No shit?" Nancy chuckled.

He made a face at her and continued. "Before this, the idea of striking directly at wimmen' would have raised my hackles." He took another swig of beer. "But now, hell, I never thought women could be like that."