Resurrection America Read online

  Keefer narrowed his eyes, looking Rick up and down as if just seeing him for the first time. “Marines always were a pain in my ass.”

  Rick ignored Keefer’s show of knowledge about his background. He almost let a Oorah slip, but instead just stared the man down.

  “Fifteen million and I get three days,” Keefer said. “Anything sooner and it goes back to ten. The town gets out of control once it finds out and it’s on you. The money goes away. All of it.”

  Rick assumed the money was off the table if the town blew up either way, so he didn’t feel like he was giving anything up. He knew he couldn’t tell anyone, not even Bertie. If she knew then she’d call off the festival and march right up the hill herself. No, he’d have to keep this secret. What difference would two days make? “Agreed,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Keefer shook it, and when he did, he pressed the stack of cash into Rick’s hand. When Rick pulled his hand away, there was ten thousand dollars in it.

  “Down payment,” Keefer said. “Do with it what you want.”

  Rick weighed the money in his hand. “Really?”

  “Sure,” Keefer said, his tone saying he’d known all along Rick could be paid off. “It’s all yours.”

  Rick bent the paperclip back slightly on both the front and the back of the wad of bills. Then, with a quick movement that made Keefer flinch, he chucked the money at the fence. When the paper clip hit, the money exploded into a ball of spark and flame, sending tiny fragments of paper money into the air like confetti.

  “Oorah, asshole,” Rick said. He turned and walked back to his Blazer, a smile spreading across his face. He might have to do business with the man, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  He climbed into the Blazer, brushed the glass from his seat and cranked the engine. When he looked up, he saw Keefer standing right where he’d left him, feet firmly planted, arms at his sides, hands slowly flexing open and closed. It looked as if he was thinking about running after the Blazer and ramming it like a bull. Even from twenty feet away, Rick could clearly see the man’s face and the unbridled anger burning there. Rick had seen that expression more than a few times, usually in combat right before someone did something stupid that got them killed.

  As Rick threw the Blazer in reverse, the rush he’d felt at his little ethical stand with the money faded away. Keefer’s eyes bore into him and left him wondering if he’d made a huge mistake. Whoever Keefer really was––Rick didn’t believe for a second he was some corporate operations manager––one thing seemed certain. He wasn’t a man you wanted to piss off.

  As Rick drove away, he figured his last stunt had blown that in a big way. In one morning, he’d discovered a high-security outpost thirty minutes from his office that had been erected without his knowledge, discovered the mine jobs were going to be forever carried out with robots, lost his only deputy to a bribe and then agreed to lie to everyone in town about everything he’d seen. On top of that, he’d made an enemy of the man who seemed to hold the future of Resurrection in his hands.

  And it was only eleven o’clock. It was gearing up to be a shitty day.

  5

  Hank Keefer watched the Blazer drive down the mountain, small dust devils kicking up from the rear wheels. He slid his jaw back and forth, grinding his teeth. God, he would have liked to have stepped out from the part he was playing and just beat the young sheriff to a pulp right then and there. He’d come close, mentally justifying that it would have been good for his men to see that their leader hadn’t lost his step. But that was reaching, and he knew it. A missing sheriff would mean search parties and calls down the mountain. No, this was better. The situation was contained and they were still on schedule.

  The sheriff was no more than an ant under his boot. If he had the time later on, he’d enjoy paying the man back for the disrespect he’d shown. Meanwhile, he had important work to do.

  Hank took a deep breath and let out some of the tension in his neck and shoulders. When he turned around, the men in protection detail already had the gate open and were in positions on either side of him, facing out to the surrounding forest as if they expected to be attacked at any minute. These were good men, hand-picked by Keefer himself for both their loyalty and their dedication to the cause. He knew being out in an exposed position with an armed man had made them nervous, but they were professionals. If the sheriff had tried to lay a hand on Keefer, he would have been put down.

  Keefer walked through the gate and the men followed. A hum filled the air as the electricity was pumped back into the fence once the gate was closed. He turned and looked at the wall stretching in either direction, pleased with the progress of the operation.

  The plan had always factored in discovery by the locals during the construction phase. In fact, they’d gotten away with it longer than expected. Using only back access roads that hadn’t been driven on in years, and keeping everything in stealth mode, had cost more and stretched the process out, but the anonymity had been worth it.

  They were so close to being operational that he’d started to think they’d be able to get through construction completely without being discovered. The arrival of the young deputy that morning had been an unwelcome turn of events, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

  Keefer turned and looked over the rows of trucks lined up in the yard, all scrubbed and looking good. Mechanics worked on a few of them, but he knew from the reports that these were routine maintenance checks. Beyond that were the old mine buildings, mostly empty shells with broken windows, and half-covered with bushes and creeper vines. They’d set up shop in the most intact building for office space, and rolled a few trailers onto the site too. But that was just for show in case there were aerial photos from a private airplane or a drone. The real headquarters of the operation was a few thousand feet below ground, safe and sound.

  The only disappointment from the morning was that the radio jamming had failed, allowing the deputy’s call to get through to the sheriff. Communication control was an essential part of the operation and their first test had been a failure. The man responsible was an expert in the field, the best available, but he’d gotten sloppy. Three weeks of working without discovery at the mine had made the team complacent. Now with the Boy Scout sheriff out there as a wild card, Keefer knew he had to tighten up his ship. It was almost game time, and they couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

  Carlos Estevez, his number two at the mine, walked out of the office building and met him in the middle of the yard.

  “You let him go,” Estevez said. It came out as a statement, but there was a question buried inside it. Keefer raised an eyebrow.

  “And?”

  “The guy didn’t want the money,” Estevez said. “Goddamn Boy Scout. You trust a guy like that?”

  Keefer didn’t like the tone in the man’s voice. “We had options with him. He didn’t see what that deputy did. It was your men he saw outside the fence, let’s not forget that. This is your mess I’m cleaning up.”

  Estevez didn’t flinch at the reprimand. He looked at the road where the Blazer had disappeared. “Lot’s riding on what we’re doing up here. Makes me nervous having someone like that running around, especially when we’re this close to being operational. Would have been better not to have any loose ends.”

  Keefer looked the man over. Estevez was thirty years younger and better looking than he’d ever been despite the ridiculous tribal tattoo swirling up from his neck to his jawline. A weight room junkie, Estevez was a beast, walking with his arms out from his sides because of his bulging muscles. Still, Keefer had seen him on the sparring mat doing martial arts, and his thick arms did nothing to reduce his agility and speed. He wondered how the fight would go down if the younger man ever challenged him physically.

  “He won’t tell anyone,” Keefer said. “I know men like that.”

  “Seems risky.”

  Keefer clenched his jaw. He wasn’t used to explaining himself to anyone, and it was hard for him to all
ow it. The only reason he did was because he had an unsettling feeling that Estevez had a point. Removing the sheriff wouldn’t have been hard. With a single hand motion, it would have been done. The deputy’s fate had been an easier decision to make because after what he’d seen, there was no letting him go. But once they’d explained what they were doing, once they gave him a little tour inside the fence line, he’d been an easy convert. The voice mail he’d left the sheriff had even been the kid’s idea. Easy.

  But the sheriff was different. And now Keefer was thinking that maybe he’d made a mistake letting him leave.

  But what was more unpredictable: The fallout of a sheriff gone missing, or a man with a five-million-dollar incentive to keep quiet for three days? Not that Resurrection would ever see any of that money, but the sheriff didn’t know that.

  “This was always built into the contingency planning,” Keefer said. “We’re lucky we went this long without being discovered. Let me worry about it. You have your own timeline to meet. And your own men to control.” He turned and walked toward the mineshaft entrance, a half-circle hole in the rock face that looked like something out of an old Western movie. Rusted railroad tracks led from the yard and disappeared deep into the opening. Work crews were affixing a massive metal door into the side of the tunnel, sparks flying from several welders operating at once.

  “We’ll be ready,” Estevez said, a half-step behind him.

  “Hmm …” he said, letting the younger man feel his doubt. “It’s times like this that I miss your dad. He was the best operations man I ever worked with.”

  Keefer suppressed a grin as Estevez’s muscles clenched under the man’s thin sweater. He expected the reaction since the young man was forever trying to escape his father’s shadow, but he also meant what he said.

  Alejandro Estevez had been his right-hand man through a career that could have filled multiple books of memoirs. It was on his deathbed that he’d convinced Keefer to take his son into his confidence on the plans the two of them had developed after so many years of watching America rot from the inside. The younger Estevez hadn’t hesitated when given the opportunity to join the cause and had proven himself capable over the last two years, even if he did forget his place from time to time. While he’d meant to put his second in command on his heels a little with the comment, Keefer had found himself missing his old friend as he neared the finish line of the project that the two of them had dreamed up together. The project that would make right all that was wrong with the world.

  “We’ll be ready,” Estevez said. “You can count on it.”

  Keefer nodded. He looked to his right where a line of trucks shielded another car from view. He walked in that direction and felt Estevez follow, now a full step behind him. It was a simple act of submission, but Keefer took note of it. They reached the driver’s side of the vehicle, a police car, and stood in front of the blown-out window.

  “We’re doing important work here,” Keefer said. “The most important work imaginable. To save the world, sometimes you have to be willing to do the unthinkable.” He pointed inside the police car where Deputy Manny Garcia’s bloody body slumped over the wheel, the back of his head splattered against the passenger seat. “Take the good deputy here. He would have helped, said he was willing. But we can’t risk newcomers. Why can’t we risk newcomers?”

  “Can’t be trusted.”

  “Right, can’t be trusted. And when you don’t trust someone, sometimes you have to make the hard decisions about them.”

  “I’m on board,” Estevez said. “Anything you say. You know that.”

  “Yes,” Keefer said, crouching down so that he was staring into the open eyes of the dead deputy. “But next time you question one of my decisions, even in private––”

  “I didn’t mean to––”

  Keefer held up his hand, his eyes never leaving the deputy’s face. Estevez fell silent.

  “Just never make it so I have to make a hard decision about you,” Keefer said. “Are we clear?”

  “Crystal,” Estevez said.

  Keefer reached out and pushed the dead man’s eyelids closed. “Then go get my mountain ready. I want to be operational by this time tomorrow.”

  Estevez turned on his heel and hurried toward the mine. Keefer smiled and patted the deputy on the shoulder. The body slumped to one side, the movement exposing the dead man’s forearm and his US Marine Corps tattoo.

  Keefer’s smile disappeared. He stood up and walked back to the mine, picking two men for burial duty. Whether he knew it or not, the soldier in the police car had been sacrificed so that his country might live. The Marine deserved a decent burial and Keefer would make sure he got one.

  6

  Rick drove down the mountain in silence. His phone had again lost service and the radio gave nothing but static, so he really didn’t have a choice in the matter. Even so, he wanted the silence. He needed to think.

  The shock of hearing Manny stuttering and stammering as he explained he was taking a few days off work had turned to anger. He’d given the guy a chance when no one else would. Put his own neck on the line with the town to give a fellow Marine a place for a soft landing. And how had Manny repaid him for the effort? He’d taken a ten-thousand-dollar bribe and probably headed out to Vegas.

  Rick had a mind to call in the squad car as stolen and put out an APB on the son of a bitch. Halfway down the mountain, he’d convinced himself that tough love was exactly what his deputy needed. A Chevy Impala with a law enforcement shield and the words RESURRECTION SHERIFF painted on both sides would be spotted within an hour of him putting the word out. Maybe less if Manny was on the freeway. He’d be pulled over, cuffed, read his rights and tossed into holding until Rick went down to get him out. Lesson learned.

  But by the time Rick was on the outskirts of town, he’d settled down a little. He knew that Manny, like all recent vets who’d spent time eye to eye with the Jihadis, was always a few clicks of the dial away from losing it. Some junior highway patrol officer trying to put the Marine in handcuffs could easily spin out of control and the result would be an altercation Rick wouldn’t be able to clean up with a few phone calls.

  Besides, he was going to have enough on his plate when CZ Corp finally made their announcement in town. The money would help, but it wasn’t going to placate some of the die-hards in town. The fifteen million at stake gave him some leverage though. If enough people knew the money was tied to how calm things stayed, then the town leaders, especially Bertie, could use that fact to pressure the troublemakers to control themselves. The money would go a long way to helping the town get on its feet again. That was thirty grand for every man, woman and child in town. Not life-changing money on its own, but Rick had listened to Bertie’s wish list enough times to know that the money would make a big impact on the town in her capable hands. He imagined the job training program she could put together. Maybe even lure a company or two from Denver to set up telecommuting centers. Without the money, his brain knew what his heart refused to admit. Resurrection wasn’t going to make it.

  As he pulled into his small town, he felt like he was looking at a terminal patient doing the best it could not to give up hope in the face of an incurable disease. It was a pity because the bones were there for a great city. The founding fathers had been nothing if not confident when it came time to lay out the town’s common spaces. Unlike other small mining towns in the surrounding area, which had packed downtowns with clapboard houses crammed together as close as possible, Resurrection was designed to live up to its name and be the center of rebirth for the entire area. The original owners of the Resurrection Mine directly above town saw this spot as a future county seat, maybe one of the leading cities in the state eventually. As such, they parceled out an oversized square park bounded on three sides by streets and a ring of storefronts. On the fourth side was city hall, an impressive granite building with columns and a dome. Putting on airs, as Rick’s mom used to say. More like dressed for a party that never
happened.

  One look at the shuttered businesses and vacant buildings with broken-out windows and peeling paint told the real story. The mine had petered out in the 1950s and so had the prospects for the town. Rising gold prices, and advances in mining techniques that made it more cost-effective to extract the mine’s low-grade ore, reopened the doors every now and then, but this was always short-lived. Then a real boom came when Genysis, America’s leading tech company, paired up with the University of Colorado that was running experiments in a deep lab, using the natural shielding properties of a half mile of solid rock.

  But that run only lasted four years. Once they developed shielding technology that replicated the effect of the mine, they moved out and closed up shop like the corporate a-holes they were. Rick had seen it coming a mile away, but that hadn’t made him any less mad about it. Everyone in town got hurt when Genysis left, a fact he had to remind himself of when he felt like complaining about his own personal loss in the deal.

  After Genysis, the town and its people slowly slipped into disrepair. The buildings were in need of a paint job and the citizens in need of more than a monthly check from the government. Rick admired President Mayfield and his Get America Working Again program, but his GAWA initiatives sure weren’t reaching up to their little hamlet nestled in the Rocky Mountains. In the end, Resurrection was no match for the hopefulness of its name. The running joke was that a resurrection always needed a death to get the process started, and the town was certainly fulfilling that half of the equation.

  The overworked shrink who ran group counseling for vets at the VA had argued that Rick had created an unhealthy link between the town’s survival and his own. Maybe, but he didn’t care. Thoughts of home had pulled him through hell and back. He wasn’t about to let it slip away.