Chapter 26 Cam #2
Rod assured them that if the charismatic and powerful Slains leader was out of the picture, his men would argue over who would take charge, and his younger brothers wouldn’t be able to keep the rest of the rough men together. Nor were his nephews or sons old enough to be a threat.
Bobby wasn’t old enough yet to command respect, even if he was ruthless enough.
Maybe someday, but not for a few years. Shelby too might hold some men, but after years of ignoring women, she might struggle for authority.
Many would drift away to find another stronghold or someone looking to pay for muscle.
Anyone remaining would have to focus on sustaining themselves and planning for the winter, rather than expanding.
Killing John Slains could probably buy a decade, maybe two, of peace.
Mayor Winters, Captain Wilson, and the Council had serious reservations, but they’d agreed that killing one man to end a war that could drag on and kill hundreds made sense.
Though for a good cause, discussing the plan had left a vile taste in his mouth.
Still, shooting John Slains seemed the lesser evil, and Cam couldn’t fault their logic.
The captain had recruited Dave as their sniper because of his military experience.
Though rusty, he was their best chance, and without batting an eye, he’d agreed to take the shot.
Cam glanced up, watching the fast-moving clouds.
He didn’t like the look of the sky with its greenish haze—a color out of nightmares.
In the distance, thick black clouds stretched out, appearing to touch the ground to the south across the river.
He shifted uneasily, checking other directions, noting the wind had picked up, too.
Across the former schoolyard, hanging from a rusted flagpole, flapped the faded, tattered remnants of an American flag.
Tumbleweeds raced across the cracked parking lots, pushed along by the increasing wind, carrying random bits of debris and clouds of dust.
A serious storm was brewing. Since his experience last fall, which led to his fractured ankle, he gave the weather more respect than previously.
He’d only seen clouds like these once before, despite the extreme weather caused by volcanic ash and dust in the atmosphere.
That time, there had been a tornado, one with funnels that had destroyed one of the deserted towns near xTerra.
Some buildings had been left untouched, others reduced to slivers and scattered rubble.
To his left, forked yellow lightning crackled in the charcoal sky, and distant thunder rumbled.
He tugged the collar of his jacket higher, trying to keep the cold at bay.
The storm front was still several miles out and might pass to the east. Driving home might be rough, but at least they had a roof overhead right now.
Still, he hoped John Slains would arrive soon so the waiting could end.
Cam and Dave had set up inside a large, two-story house on the hillside overlooking the old high school, across from where the Slains had fortified a semi-permanent camp for their men, guarding the southern highway and the bridges across the North Platte River.
The Slains’ compound, where the family lived, was along a smaller, less-traveled highway near Bill.
Somewhere difficult to access without being caught by his patrols.
Rod reported John had the locals trained to inform him if anyone new or unusual came through town.
That tracked with Robin and Kory’s information.
Drawing John to this location would be easier than trying something closer to his stronghold.
Shooting him on his home turf was a last resort, only coming into play if he failed to show today or the attempt failed.
Cam returned his attention to the ground, scanning the roads through his binoculars again. With luck, this wouldn’t take much longer, and they could split.
Over an hour ago, Rod had driven into the camp below, mixing with the dozen men stationed there while he awaited the leader. As soon as he arrived, he sent a message through one of his former men that he’d like to speak to the Slains’ leader about renegotiating Bobby and Daisy’s betrothal.
Cam couldn’t help but worry about Rod. He’d taken the most dangerous job, going amongst his former comrades after sending an inflammatory message to John Slains requesting an audience. If the meeting went to hell, Rod would be trapped.
Would the Slains leader be suspicious of his request?
Powerful men often were, though Rod assured Cam that he and Amanda had moved out of the compound in good standing without burning bridges.
Still, Rod had left the rest of the Slains to deal with xTerra, and it hadn’t gone well.
The leader might be annoyed, but he shouldn’t hold Rod accountable for that failure.
Rod may have distanced himself from the Slains since his move, but he hoped not to be blamed for the shooting today.
With their expansion, the Slains had many enemies, so John would always be a target.
Rod had been confident he could sneak away in the chaos and rendezvous back at Fort Robinson without a problem.
Filled with restless energy, Cam couldn’t hold still.
Hearing a repeated banging outside, he wandered to the window facing the back lane to check the cause.
An unlatched gate at the neighboring home was bashing against the house as the wind increased.
The street below remained empty. They’d parked Cam’s electric SUV in the garage, out of sight.
After the shooting, they needed to vacate the premises in a hurry.
He returned to the front window, staring out through his binoculars.
He spotted a puff of dust in the distance and focused on its movement along the road.
Headed this way and closing fast. His heart rate picked up.
As it drew closer, he made out a jeep headed south toward the parking lot and the target area. John Slains should be on board.
Until a month ago, Rod had been on his side, his most trusted minion. Rod’s appearance today hadn’t been expected, but it also shouldn’t cause alarm.
Cam glanced across the second-floor room to where Dave peered through the scope of his rifle.
“You ready? Jeep’s coming.” Dave had a clear line of sight to the camp below, and they’d found the perfect window with slatted blinds to help them maintain concealment while they waited.
Dave’s rifle was propped on the sill of the open window.
“Yeah,” said Dave. “I got it.” His voice was flat and monotone in his concentration. He kept his eyes fixed, gazing into his scope. He rested his finger on the trigger but otherwise remained motionless.
The jeep parked next to the five vehicles already in a row in front of the empty high school. An average-looking man with dark hair stepped out of the front passenger seat. From the way those around him showed deference, this must be John Slains. Rod met him at the jeep’s door, blocking their view.
“What’s Rod doing?” said Dave. “He’s in my line of sight.”
Rod stayed between Slains and Dave’s shot, his back to their position. The two men crossed to the opposite end of the lot to speak on their own.
“Rod’s still in the way.” Dave’s finger remained on the trigger, and his voice was even, not showing any frustration. Biding his time for the perfect shot.
The two men spoke for a couple of minutes. Twice, Rod shook his head. He may be trying to put off the occupation of Fort Robinson for longer. A semi-legitimate request and a valid reason to have a meeting. Cam’s blood chilled. Maybe Rod was playing both sides.
Without warning, John Slains pulled a pistol from his holster. In one motion, he shot Rod. The sound echoed below as Rod dropped to the ground.
What the fuck? Cam shook his head, his voice too loud. “Holy shit. Do you have a shot? We can’t stick around.”