He glanced at his watch. “Dylan. Are they here?”
“Not yet.”
Colby looked back as a firing squad of militia stepped out in front of the three, getting ready to dish out old-time punishment. There was no more time to waste. He had arrived expecting violence, expecting to open fire on them, but doing that now wouldn’t serve them. It wouldn’t help his mother.
“Take this.” He handed his brother his Glock.
Dylan looked dumbfounded. “What? No. What are you doing?”
“Playing a different card.”
“No, Colby. Wait.”
“There’s no time. We’ll have to do this another way. If it fails, then do whatever you need to.” Dylan nodded, getting on the radio. The others had been told from the get-go that if it all went south and he didn’t survive, to take the head off the snake. Without a captain, without a lieutenant, the rest would fall.
He’d seen it before.
That was the way most of these groups operated.
Many disbanded when the spearhead was broken.
Colby elbowed his way through to the front of the crowd, hurrying. He had to assume Hank had dropped the ball, pulled out at the last minute, and returned home. It must be why he wasn’t here now. He should have known better.
“STOP!” Colby bellowed, arm raised.
Those around him looked on, confused.
He had to believe they wouldn’t shoot him outright. A stray bullet shot into the crowd would cause pandemonium. It could hit an innocent. A death without cause. Love or hate them, the people of Humboldt wouldn’t live with that. They would turn on the militia and after all he’d gone through, Evans wouldn’t risk that.
As he broke through the crowd, militia pounced. They brought him to the ground and began a pat-down. He was unarmed. The people would see it. For this to work he had to be. It was a risky move but he knew he would be frisked.
“Don’t do this, captain. This is not the way,” he said, raising his voice so those at the front of the crowd could hear.
“Colby Riker?” the captain said, quickly stepping off the platform and making his way over with a smug grin spreading. “It can’t be.” He scanned the crowd as if expecting to see others. “I figured you’d attack. I was expecting violence.”
“These people deserve a fair trial, not an execution.”
“The community will decide that.”
“My mother has done nothing wrong. I was the one responsible for the death of your men, not her.”
Strangely, he heard a few yeses from the crowd. Not all of them were on the same page as the militia. That’s why they’d asked what his mother’s crime was. They wanted to be sure. They were the jury, and like any good jury, they wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if they knew they’d punished an innocent.
Evans chuckled. “Brave. I like that.” He looked back at the three. “Oh, I get it now. You want a front seat?” He snorted. “Well, I can give you that.”
Evans leaned forward and whispered into Colby’s ear. “Tell me, seriously, did you really think showing up here would change anything?” He chuckled. “And to think, you didn’t even try to attack.” He laughed. “I heard you Rikers were tough sons of bitches! I’m disappointed.”
Evans turned to the crowd, lifting the megaphone to his lips.
“This man before us is Colby Riker. The one responsible for the death of three of my men. But praise the Lord, he has seen the error of his ways and turned himself in for his crimes. Miracles truly do happen.”
He was pandering to the religious.
Murmurs spread. Heads turned. Were they waiting for his response?
“The only crime I have committed is not killing you sooner.”
He could have shouted that he wasn’t at fault but Dan’s words had little effect when he’d done so. Instead, Colby was killing time. Trying to draw out the execution in the vain hope that maybe, just maybe, Hank was out there, watching, waiting to see Colby demonstrate a willingness to sacrifice himself for a Strickland.
Soldiers kept his arms behind his back, pushing his head forward. “Don’t I get some last words?”
The captain turned, looking astonished. “What?”
“Last words. Don’t I get them?”
“Of course. What do you want to say?”
“Let me speak to the people.”
He whispered into his ear again. “You already have, they’re not listening.”
“Evans, you know as well as I do that some of those people will be wondering if you are just making this all up. Lying to forward your cause.” Evans sneered, contemplating it. Colby continued, “It would go a long way if they heard it from me.”
He chuckled. “Too late.”
“They deserve to know the truth.”
“Yes. Yes, they do. And I have told it.”
With that, he gestured for his men to take him up to join the others. He was placed beside his mother. His eyes scanned the faces in the crowd, searching for the Stricklands. Where are you?
His mother immediately tore into him. “Colby, what the hell are you doing here? I told you to go home. You had a chance. God, you never do what you are told.”
“Yeah, and maybe for once that will work in our favor,” he replied.
“Favor? What are you talking about? Look at us. We’re about to…”
He was listening to her rant as a soldier took out zip ties to secure his wrists. At the same time, his eyes ticked from left to right out across the outside of the perimeter.
Come on. Where are you?
Then he saw it.
It caught his eye. Movement. Sudden.
It happened fast.
One by one militia soldiers dropped. Quietly. Like an invisible wave rolling over each one. No gunfire. No cries. So no one turned. All he saw were startled faces, their mouths turning into an O, their eyes widening, then they vanished out of view. Down they went. Below the crowd. Out of sight.
“Okay, let’s get this done,” the captain said, waving for his three guys to get into position. “I’ve grown tired of these people.” The lieutenant, standing by
