Preface Part 2

Sgt Johns stepped out of the police station into the early morning hours. The cool humid air seemed to wake him up a little as he inhaled deeply then started to trot across the sidewalk and street towards his waiting cruiser. The dispatcher had interrupted his filling out reports with something about trouble at the border crossing. He figured it was probably nothing more then wanting him to back up another bust. While he hated having anything to do with the prima donnas of the borders, it was still a chance to get out of the office and from those never ending reports telling the captain yet again nothing had happened of any importance. Maybe tonight he would get lucky and who ever was being busted would try to escape. It would be good for him and the Douglas Police Department to get some credit for once on the border.

The noise of an engine down shifting brought him up short and made him look down across the circle in front of the Police Station. A large black tractor and trailer was turning off U.S. Highway 191 and then turning onto the drive leading up to the police station. His interest was drawn even more to the large black flag with the skull and crossbones attached to the top of the semi cab and blowing in the wind. “What the hell?” he thought to himself. He stood and watched as the truck moved down the street and slowed to a stop in front of him. The black vehicle and trailer reflected the lights from the street and building behind him.

“Hey!” he shouted as he waved his arms and trotted towards the truck trying to get the drivers attention. The dark windows made it impossible to see who was behind the wheel of the vehicle. He had just reached the door and was planning to pound on it to get the driver to open it when a chain rattling sound from the trailer brought him up short. Taking a step back he looked but it was hard to see. It almost looked as if several panels had been slid up on the trailer’s side but he could not quite tell for sure. Then he saw movement as several black cylinders seemed to be partially pushed out from the openings. He squinted his eyes to see them better. They almost reminded him of the barrels of cannons that’s he had seen in a pirate movie or….

“Oh Shit!” he yelled to no one as he dove away from the truck and to the ground. No sooner had he hit the asphalt when a blinding flash and a deafening roar filled the night. Pain struck his head as the explosion hammered his ear drums leaving a loud ringing in his ears. Still it was not enough to mute a second then a third explosion as the cannons fired. Looking up he began to think this was some sick assholes idea of a prank. The old train depot that had been converted into the police station and given a fresh coat of paint seemed intact. With a forth explosion near by he could see a circular projectile strike the side of the building leaving a dark black hole in the stucco and concrete. He was not sure how many there were as after the forth firing as he was suddenly lifted in the air and hot air struck him and tossed him across the street. When he finally stopped rolling he was already unconscious.

Inside the cab of the truck, the driver watched and smiled as the remaining cannons fired into the police station. Each shot would puncture the concrete building leaving a hole where it had hit. A few seconds later the wall would explode outwards in flame and cement shrapnel. He could hear the fragments bouncing off the truck but it did not seem to phase him. Then it was over. The entire front of the police station was now in ruin with fires burning brightly inside. He could sense movement on the other side of the truck but did not bother to look and see what it was. Instead he reached down and grabbed the shifter as both his feet began punching the gas and the clutch. With a slight lurch the truck began to move around the circular drive way and back to the street, away from the burning police station. At the end of the intersection of the street and highway it turned and disappeared into the city.

Sgt Johns woke groggily and in pain on a metal floor. It was to dark to see, but the movement of the floor told him that he was in a vehicle. His ears were still ringing and the smell of burned gunpowder filled his nostrils. He rolled slowly over to find a metal wall near him. Standing up he found his feet did not want to easily support him. Then with a sudden lurch he flew back into the wall, hitting hard and knocking the breath out of him, before being launched the other way and rolling till he hit something hard and metal that seemed to move from his impact. Groaning in pain he reached out to what he had hit and found it hot to the touch. He was in the back of the truck. Instinctively he reached for his gun, but found his holster had already been removed.

At first all he could hear was the creaking of the trailer and the idling engine of the truck towing it. Then a new sound could be heard getting louder. He recognized the sound immediately from pulling over enough of them in the summer months. The rumbling motors of Harley Davidson motorcycles could be heard outside and moving around. Then the sound of the trailers lock bars being moved caught his attention. He quickly ducked down when the door flew open spilling the bright lights of several bikes headlamps into the trailer. He was having difficulty seeing the shapes moving around outside but knew if he was going to escape that now would be the time. Bolting out from behind the cannon he raced towards the door and leapt into the night. He knew he was in trouble when he felt a vise like hand grab him by his ankle. His body’s forward momentum was arrested causing his upper torso to swing forward and down. The impact shattered teeth and sent an explosion of pain through his head.

“Now, now, what have we hear?” said a voice with a thick accent. “Hey boys, this rabbit thinks it can run!” Loud laughter erupted from several voices around him. Sgt Johns tried to place the accent; he knew he had heard it before but where? And who were these men acting like pirates? For a moment his brain tried to light up the proverbial light bulb. Then he knew. He had heard the accent from movies, in particular any movies that had pirates in them.

Before he could fathom another thought Sgt Johns was grabbed from behind and easily lifted and tossed back into the trailer. He rolled to a stop and lay there in pain. A sudden grating of metal on metal pounded through his head making him involuntarily reach up and clasp his hands over his ears. Several shadows walked up the ramp that had been pulled out and passed by him with out as much as a glance. They immediately began pushing the cannons to one side and securing them to make space and keep them from rolling around. As they did this, two bobcat skid loaders climbed up the ramp into the trailer dragging several ATM machines behind them with chains. As they moved to the back, the motorcycles were driven up, their engines getting even louder in the enclosed trailer. Finally several men climbed in carrying sacks and pushing terrified men and women before them.

Sgt Johns could hear heavy footsteps approaching him and turned his head to look at the man coming towards him. The man stood a good six feet tall and seemed muscular in the leather biker outfit he was wearing. A long black beard and shaggy long hair held back by a blue bandana stood out starkly against his very pale face. Sun glasses made it impossible to see the man’s eyes but he was sure they were focused on him as the man kneeled down next to him. The man reached down and grabbed the name badge on his shirt and looked at it a moment before letting it go and looking back at his face.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Sgt Johns.” Said the familiar voice.

“Please let the others go.” Stammered the sergeant. “They have done nothing wrong. Take me as a hostage instead!” The man lifted his head and let loose with a mirthful deep laugh.

“Hear that boys. Mr. Lawman thinks we be taking hostages!” he shouted over his shoulder. The other men in the trailer laughed with him for a moment before he turned to look back down at Sgt Johns. “No one be a hostage here Sgt Johns. We just be filling our larders for the journey ahead!” A cold chill went down Sgt Johns’ spine causing him to physically shiver at the man’s words. Then the doors to the trailer closed and the world around him went dark.