Marcus returned to Arthur’s compound, empty-handed, his face still streaked with dirt and humiliation. I knew Arthur wouldn’t let it go. His pride was too brittle, his need for control too absolute.
Two days later, just as dawn was breaking, I saw it. A plume of thick black smoke rising from the east side of my property, near the old timber barn. It wasn’t an accident.
“Sarah!” I called, my voice sharp. “Get ready. We’re moving.”
My daughter, Sarah, emerged from her room, her face tight with worry. She had seen the smoke too.
“Dad, what is it?” she asked, grabbing her emergency pack.
“Arthur’s moved beyond paper,” I replied, checking the action on my rifle. “He’s hired an off-grid crew. They’re trying to smoke us out.”
We quickly packed what we needed. I directed her to a hidden cave system, a secure, old refuge I’d prepared years ago, deep within the forest that bordered my land.
“Stay there,” I instructed, my eyes meeting hers. “No matter what. I’ll come for you.”
She nodded, her jaw set. She knew the drill. This wasn’t her first time seeing the syndicate’s shadows.
As Sarah disappeared into the dense undergrowth leading to the cave, the fire at the barn began to rage, sending more smoke billowing into the crisp morning air. It wasn’t just a barn they wanted to burn; they wanted to burn me out, drive me off the land.
But the smoke was a gift. It provided cover.
While Arthur’s trackers would be focused on the fire, thinking I was trapped or fleeing, I moved in the opposite direction. I used the swirling gray haze, thick with the smell of burning wood, to mask my own movements. Every step took me deeper into the ancient pine forest, heading not away from the danger, but directly toward Arthur’s heavily guarded compound.
They thought they were cornering a frightened old man. They were wrong. I was coming for answers, and the Krenshaw Tactical Compound was where those answers were buried.
+ There are no comments
Add yours