Chapter 10:-
How could this have happened again? How could he have let his town down again?
His radio flared to life as Ben ran back up Main Street, dimly aware of the sounds, the smells of the aftermath, of Michelle and two of his deputies following after him.
"Sheriff? Sheriff are you there?"
"I'm here, Vince, go ahead?"
"What the hell's going on, Sheriff? I got people dead and dyin' up here. Whole place is in a goddamn mess."
"You got casualties up there? How? Aren't you on Roosevelt?"
"Roger that Sheriff. Blue SUV exploded on the corner of Roosevelt and Main." Somehow reporting the details seemed to have brought Vince back under control. "What do you want me to do Sheriff?"
"Just give me a second, will ya Vince? We got a situation on Main Street as well." He clicked the radio off, staring at Michelle, staring through Michelle. "There was another device."
"Where?"
"Top of Main Street." Ben ran his hand across his face. His stomach lurched again and he started to cough, dry rasping hacks tearing at the back of his throat. He hunkered down, breathing deeply through his mouth. Trying to find control from somewhere.
"Oh Jesus." Michelle covered her mouth with her hand. Thinking of the people she had asked Ben to send up Main Street. "Oh Jesus."
Vince's voice broke through their thoughts. "Sorry Sheriff, but things are gettin' hard to handle up here. I need some help."
Even over the radio, Ben Franklin could hear the screams.
Or where they just an echo of the screams on Main Street?
"Sheriff?"
He ignored Vince's panicked voice. "I have to go. I have to be there." He stared at the wreckage, at the ruins of Main Street. "Vince is a good man, a good cop, but he's not up to this." He made no move to go. "What the hell am I going to do?"
The screams grew louder, the flames burning hotter and brighter.
"Ben."
Michelle's voice, cool, calm, professional, cut through his panic, giving him back his control, his balance. She could deal with this, could help him deal with this. She would know what to do.
"What do I do Michelle?"
She put her hand on his arm, pulling him to his feet. "You have to be seen to be in charge, Ben. Go to the top of Main Street, take control." She looked around. "Is there a hall or a church nearby?"
"Why?"
"You got a lot of wounded here, Ben." So many wounded. "We need somewhere we can treat them. Is there anyplace nearby we can use?"
Ben thought for a second. "Lincoln Memorial Church. We can use the hall there."
"Okay, I'll get things set up. Send the wounded down there. I can treat the minor injuries at least. That'll free the hospitals up a little." At least that way she could do something to help.
Every time she thought she had dealt with her guilt her memories something happened to fling a match on the embers.
"I'll send Roe with you." He nodded at a young deputy, staring open mouthed at the chaos. "Don't think he's going to be much use to me."
"Thanks." Michelle started to turn away, then stopped. "Good luck Ben."
She could hear his breathing as he got close to her. Could smell his aftershave and his sweat. She almost smiled.
"I was expecting you before now Michael."
"What have you done?"
Her laugh was bitter. "I don't know Michael." She ran her hand through her hair. "God help me Michael, I don't know what I've done." She closed her eyes, remembering. She could almost feel the cold wind, the rain against her face.
It was then that Sinead Loughlin realized she was crying.
"Do you still miss him?"
"Do you still see his face?"
"Of course I do."
"Yes. Every night, before I sleep."
"He was just a child."
"Just a boy."
"He had nothing to do with anything."
"He just wanted to play football with his friends." Hunte was crying as ell, his voice shaking with his grief. "For God's sake, Sinead, he just wanted to play football. He didn't deserve to die like that!"
"What about Niall, Michael?"
She turned around to face him, hands curled into fists. Lost in her memories, remembering her brother, how he looked the last time she had seen him alive.
"What did he do to deserve that, Michael? To deserve what you did to him?"
She flinched as memories of his body flood through her head.
"What did he do to deserve to die like that?"
There were so many wounded.
"I need to talk to the Sheriff!"
Michelle sighed, checking the crude bandage she had wrapped around the man's wrist. He had the same glazed expression on his face, the same glazed expression as everyone else she had treated.
She was doing everything she could, but she knew it would never be enough.
Her words echoed through her head. "Get those people out of here!"
She had been so sure that she had done the right thing. So certain and yet she had been wrong again. And once again, other people had had to bare the consequences of her decisions.
"Where's Ben? Lady, I need to talk to the Sheriff!"
Michelle blew a strand of curly hair out of her face. She stripped off her gloves, throwing them onto the increasing pile in the centre of the hall. At least supplies and help had arrived before Ben had sent down the first of the wounded.
Where was he?
"Lady, I don't know who you are, but I do know that you sure as shit aint no deputy. Where is the Sheriff?"
"I don't know, sir." She pointed at the steady stream of injured people arriving behind him. "But we got a lot of people that have been hurt here, so I just need you to move on."
A steady stream of injured. And these were just the ones that hadn't been too badly hurt.
She tried not to think about the ones that had been seriously injured.
Michelle rubbed at her temples. Her headache was back with renewed ferocity, along with all the other aches and pains she thought she had banished.
Ben Franklin walked into the Lincoln Memorial Hall/
The man ignored her, bounding to his feet with a spryness that belied both his age and the amount of complaining he had done about his injuries. He ran across the hall. "Sheriff!"
Michelle followed after him. She needed to talk to Ben as well. She needed to know. Needed to know how many people she had helped get killed.
Ben stopped just inside the door. "What is it Aeron?" One of his deputies, his white shirt stained with blood, came across and handed him a bottle of water. Ben glanced at Michelle and gave her the bottle. She opened it taking a cooling drink. "Things are kind of fucked up at the moment. I don't really have time to listen to you complain."
He coughed and Michelle quickly handed him back the bottle, knowing how raw his throat would be. He managed to smile in gratitude.
Aeron drew himself up, maintaining his dignity, despite the bandage on his arm and the dirt and dust streaked across his face and clothes. "I'm so sorry Ben."
"What?"
"I saw her." Aeron was weeping now, the teats winding clean patches down his cheeks. "God help me, Sheriff, I saw her just before the thing exploded."
"Saw who?"
"Paige. I saw Paige and Rose outside your office, just before..." Aeron broke off, unable to continue.
Michelle watched the water bottle fall from Ben Franklin's hand in slow motion.
"I did my job Sinead."
They were circling each other now, looking for a weakness, an opening.
"He was just a boy, Michael." She paused to spit at his feet. "You're no different from me." Sinead laughed, taking delight in seeing the blood drain from his face. "You're nothing but a killer. A killer with a badge."
"You killed my son."
"You shot my brother. Shot him and left him to die."
"You killed my son."
"I didn't mean to! He was a casualty of war. You shot Niall in cold blood."
He pointed his gun at her with a shaking hand. She grinned at him, her hands creeping around her back. Reaching for her own weapon, hidden at the small of her back."
She had always known that it would come to this.
Two sharp retorts rang out in the early Nevada morning.
"...of explosions in Nixon, Nevada...."
"....fatalities...."
"....second attack on the town in a matter of days..."
"...no group has yet claimed responsibility for either of these attacks, the first of which claimed the life of Charles H McGarrity..."
It had worked beautifully.
Nicholas watched the emergency services struggle to cope with both attacks. Watched the town struggle to cope with a second assault.
Everything, the alliance, the risk, the insult of working with someone who supported the enemy, everything, it had all been worthwhile.
He looked around the side street and threw the trigger away, wiping his hands on his light trousers. He walked down Memorial, away from the scene. Listening to the agony he had helped to inflict.
"They should hear what we have to suffer, and all the world does is bleat about how unfairly those bastards are treated."
He took another look around, wondering where Sinead was.
"Probably long gone from here." He shrugged. "Like I should be." Suddenly he panicked. What if she had been arrested? What if she was doing a deal to keep herself out of prison?
What if she threatened the entire alliance?
Then he saw them.
Two of Nixon's deputies, their white shirts, still bright underneath the unforgiving sun, despite the dirt and the dust on the them. Nicholas had seen the expression on their faces before. Back home, under similar circumstances.
One of the deputies took a step towards him, stumbling with pain and exhaustion.
Nicholas took one look at them, at the badges on their shirts, at the weapons by their sides.
Then he turned and ran.
He was standing alone outside when Michelle found him. His back to the church hall, head bowed, smoking a cigarette. His clothes were dirty, stained with smoke, sweat and blood. Idly she picked at her own clothing, wondering how dirty she looked.
"Hey."
Ben looked around, his hands shaking. He tried to smile and gestured with the cigarette. "I haven't smoked in over a year."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I stopped when Paige found out she was...." His voice trailed away and his smile faded. He took another drag from the cigarette and dropped it to the ground, grinding it viciously beneath his boot. "Has there been any word?"
"Nothing yet, but there's more people coming in all the time..."
"That's bullshit Michelle. You don't believe that any more than I do."
He was right, she hung her head. "I'm sorry Ben."
"You know what gets me? The last time I talked to her, Michelle, I lied to her. She asked me where I had gone and I was with you and I LIED TO HER." He turned towards her, talking a step in her direction, his fists clenched.
She backed away from him, giving herself room to move, room to use her agility. "That's not fair, Ben. I didn't ask you to come to my room, I didn't ask you to kiss me and I sure as hell didn't ask you to lie to your wife."
"Sheriff? Sheriff you there?"
Still glaring at her, Ben snatched the microphone from his shirt. "I'm here, Reid. What's happening?"
"Am in pursuit of male suspect, late twenties, Caucasian, dark haired. He's not a local, Sheriff. I've never seen him before and he sure took off in a hurry."
"That sounds like Nicholas."
Ben nodded in agreement. "Where are you Reid?"
"On Memorial."
"On my way." He switched the radio off and pulled his gun from its holster. "Come on."
Michelle dialled Michael's number as she ran after Ben, holding her gun, ready in her other hand.
Listening to his phone ring.
How could this have happened again? How could he have let his town down again?
His radio flared to life as Ben ran back up Main Street, dimly aware of the sounds, the smells of the aftermath, of Michelle and two of his deputies following after him.
"Sheriff? Sheriff are you there?"
"I'm here, Vince, go ahead?"
"What the hell's going on, Sheriff? I got people dead and dyin' up here. Whole place is in a goddamn mess."
"You got casualties up there? How? Aren't you on Roosevelt?"
"Roger that Sheriff. Blue SUV exploded on the corner of Roosevelt and Main." Somehow reporting the details seemed to have brought Vince back under control. "What do you want me to do Sheriff?"
"Just give me a second, will ya Vince? We got a situation on Main Street as well." He clicked the radio off, staring at Michelle, staring through Michelle. "There was another device."
"Where?"
"Top of Main Street." Ben ran his hand across his face. His stomach lurched again and he started to cough, dry rasping hacks tearing at the back of his throat. He hunkered down, breathing deeply through his mouth. Trying to find control from somewhere.
"Oh Jesus." Michelle covered her mouth with her hand. Thinking of the people she had asked Ben to send up Main Street. "Oh Jesus."
Vince's voice broke through their thoughts. "Sorry Sheriff, but things are gettin' hard to handle up here. I need some help."
Even over the radio, Ben Franklin could hear the screams.
Or where they just an echo of the screams on Main Street?
"Sheriff?"
He ignored Vince's panicked voice. "I have to go. I have to be there." He stared at the wreckage, at the ruins of Main Street. "Vince is a good man, a good cop, but he's not up to this." He made no move to go. "What the hell am I going to do?"
The screams grew louder, the flames burning hotter and brighter.
"Ben."
Michelle's voice, cool, calm, professional, cut through his panic, giving him back his control, his balance. She could deal with this, could help him deal with this. She would know what to do.
"What do I do Michelle?"
She put her hand on his arm, pulling him to his feet. "You have to be seen to be in charge, Ben. Go to the top of Main Street, take control." She looked around. "Is there a hall or a church nearby?"
"Why?"
"You got a lot of wounded here, Ben." So many wounded. "We need somewhere we can treat them. Is there anyplace nearby we can use?"
Ben thought for a second. "Lincoln Memorial Church. We can use the hall there."
"Okay, I'll get things set up. Send the wounded down there. I can treat the minor injuries at least. That'll free the hospitals up a little." At least that way she could do something to help.
Every time she thought she had dealt with her guilt her memories something happened to fling a match on the embers.
"I'll send Roe with you." He nodded at a young deputy, staring open mouthed at the chaos. "Don't think he's going to be much use to me."
"Thanks." Michelle started to turn away, then stopped. "Good luck Ben."
She could hear his breathing as he got close to her. Could smell his aftershave and his sweat. She almost smiled.
"I was expecting you before now Michael."
"What have you done?"
Her laugh was bitter. "I don't know Michael." She ran her hand through her hair. "God help me Michael, I don't know what I've done." She closed her eyes, remembering. She could almost feel the cold wind, the rain against her face.
It was then that Sinead Loughlin realized she was crying.
"Do you still miss him?"
"Do you still see his face?"
"Of course I do."
"Yes. Every night, before I sleep."
"He was just a child."
"Just a boy."
"He had nothing to do with anything."
"He just wanted to play football with his friends." Hunte was crying as ell, his voice shaking with his grief. "For God's sake, Sinead, he just wanted to play football. He didn't deserve to die like that!"
"What about Niall, Michael?"
She turned around to face him, hands curled into fists. Lost in her memories, remembering her brother, how he looked the last time she had seen him alive.
"What did he do to deserve that, Michael? To deserve what you did to him?"
She flinched as memories of his body flood through her head.
"What did he do to deserve to die like that?"
There were so many wounded.
"I need to talk to the Sheriff!"
Michelle sighed, checking the crude bandage she had wrapped around the man's wrist. He had the same glazed expression on his face, the same glazed expression as everyone else she had treated.
She was doing everything she could, but she knew it would never be enough.
Her words echoed through her head. "Get those people out of here!"
She had been so sure that she had done the right thing. So certain and yet she had been wrong again. And once again, other people had had to bare the consequences of her decisions.
"Where's Ben? Lady, I need to talk to the Sheriff!"
Michelle blew a strand of curly hair out of her face. She stripped off her gloves, throwing them onto the increasing pile in the centre of the hall. At least supplies and help had arrived before Ben had sent down the first of the wounded.
Where was he?
"Lady, I don't know who you are, but I do know that you sure as shit aint no deputy. Where is the Sheriff?"
"I don't know, sir." She pointed at the steady stream of injured people arriving behind him. "But we got a lot of people that have been hurt here, so I just need you to move on."
A steady stream of injured. And these were just the ones that hadn't been too badly hurt.
She tried not to think about the ones that had been seriously injured.
Michelle rubbed at her temples. Her headache was back with renewed ferocity, along with all the other aches and pains she thought she had banished.
Ben Franklin walked into the Lincoln Memorial Hall/
The man ignored her, bounding to his feet with a spryness that belied both his age and the amount of complaining he had done about his injuries. He ran across the hall. "Sheriff!"
Michelle followed after him. She needed to talk to Ben as well. She needed to know. Needed to know how many people she had helped get killed.
Ben stopped just inside the door. "What is it Aeron?" One of his deputies, his white shirt stained with blood, came across and handed him a bottle of water. Ben glanced at Michelle and gave her the bottle. She opened it taking a cooling drink. "Things are kind of fucked up at the moment. I don't really have time to listen to you complain."
He coughed and Michelle quickly handed him back the bottle, knowing how raw his throat would be. He managed to smile in gratitude.
Aeron drew himself up, maintaining his dignity, despite the bandage on his arm and the dirt and dust streaked across his face and clothes. "I'm so sorry Ben."
"What?"
"I saw her." Aeron was weeping now, the teats winding clean patches down his cheeks. "God help me, Sheriff, I saw her just before the thing exploded."
"Saw who?"
"Paige. I saw Paige and Rose outside your office, just before..." Aeron broke off, unable to continue.
Michelle watched the water bottle fall from Ben Franklin's hand in slow motion.
"I did my job Sinead."
They were circling each other now, looking for a weakness, an opening.
"He was just a boy, Michael." She paused to spit at his feet. "You're no different from me." Sinead laughed, taking delight in seeing the blood drain from his face. "You're nothing but a killer. A killer with a badge."
"You killed my son."
"You shot my brother. Shot him and left him to die."
"You killed my son."
"I didn't mean to! He was a casualty of war. You shot Niall in cold blood."
He pointed his gun at her with a shaking hand. She grinned at him, her hands creeping around her back. Reaching for her own weapon, hidden at the small of her back."
She had always known that it would come to this.
Two sharp retorts rang out in the early Nevada morning.
"...of explosions in Nixon, Nevada...."
"....fatalities...."
"....second attack on the town in a matter of days..."
"...no group has yet claimed responsibility for either of these attacks, the first of which claimed the life of Charles H McGarrity..."
It had worked beautifully.
Nicholas watched the emergency services struggle to cope with both attacks. Watched the town struggle to cope with a second assault.
Everything, the alliance, the risk, the insult of working with someone who supported the enemy, everything, it had all been worthwhile.
He looked around the side street and threw the trigger away, wiping his hands on his light trousers. He walked down Memorial, away from the scene. Listening to the agony he had helped to inflict.
"They should hear what we have to suffer, and all the world does is bleat about how unfairly those bastards are treated."
He took another look around, wondering where Sinead was.
"Probably long gone from here." He shrugged. "Like I should be." Suddenly he panicked. What if she had been arrested? What if she was doing a deal to keep herself out of prison?
What if she threatened the entire alliance?
Then he saw them.
Two of Nixon's deputies, their white shirts, still bright underneath the unforgiving sun, despite the dirt and the dust on the them. Nicholas had seen the expression on their faces before. Back home, under similar circumstances.
One of the deputies took a step towards him, stumbling with pain and exhaustion.
Nicholas took one look at them, at the badges on their shirts, at the weapons by their sides.
Then he turned and ran.
He was standing alone outside when Michelle found him. His back to the church hall, head bowed, smoking a cigarette. His clothes were dirty, stained with smoke, sweat and blood. Idly she picked at her own clothing, wondering how dirty she looked.
"Hey."
Ben looked around, his hands shaking. He tried to smile and gestured with the cigarette. "I haven't smoked in over a year."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I stopped when Paige found out she was...." His voice trailed away and his smile faded. He took another drag from the cigarette and dropped it to the ground, grinding it viciously beneath his boot. "Has there been any word?"
"Nothing yet, but there's more people coming in all the time..."
"That's bullshit Michelle. You don't believe that any more than I do."
He was right, she hung her head. "I'm sorry Ben."
"You know what gets me? The last time I talked to her, Michelle, I lied to her. She asked me where I had gone and I was with you and I LIED TO HER." He turned towards her, talking a step in her direction, his fists clenched.
She backed away from him, giving herself room to move, room to use her agility. "That's not fair, Ben. I didn't ask you to come to my room, I didn't ask you to kiss me and I sure as hell didn't ask you to lie to your wife."
"Sheriff? Sheriff you there?"
Still glaring at her, Ben snatched the microphone from his shirt. "I'm here, Reid. What's happening?"
"Am in pursuit of male suspect, late twenties, Caucasian, dark haired. He's not a local, Sheriff. I've never seen him before and he sure took off in a hurry."
"That sounds like Nicholas."
Ben nodded in agreement. "Where are you Reid?"
"On Memorial."
"On my way." He switched the radio off and pulled his gun from its holster. "Come on."
Michelle dialled Michael's number as she ran after Ben, holding her gun, ready in her other hand.
Listening to his phone ring.