Chapter 22

Jerry Donavan made Deputy Griggs’ death as painful as he’d promised. Afterward he unceremoniously dragged the deputy’s carcass into the woods so the scavengers could pick his bones clean. After disposing of Griggs’ corpse, Jerry and his grandfather sterilized the area. Jerry would never use the site again, so they even brushed away his tire tracks.

Jerry figured that the Sheriff’s Department would look for Griggs near where his car was abandoned with the keys still in the ignition. Jerry and his grandfather wore gloves when they were in the car and were careful not to be seen when they dumped it in the national forest.

The two Jerichos were back in the Chaney Hollow house by two in the afternoon. Jerry struggled to control his temper after Griggs’ revelations, but he called on his training and experience to turn his anger into a cold calculated calm.

Lola was waiting for them when they got home. She had changed her traffic stopping outfit for jeans, a flannel shirt, and hiking boots. Hatchett raised his eyebrows at her new look.

“I’m in this now, so I figured I’d dress like you all,” she said.

Hatchett just shrugged.

“You always look good to me, Baby,” he said, “now tell me how you are so familiar with the deputy’s pistol.”

“My father is a retired State Police Captain up in Morganton. He carried the same pistol and taught me to shoot it when I was seventeen. He said I might need the skill while I was in nursing school. I don’t carry anything that big, but I still carry a hammerless Ladysmith .38 in my purse,” she replied.

Hatchett shook his head in wonder.

“You went to Nursing School?” he asked.

Lola nodded, “I am a Registered Nurse. When I’m tired of dancing I’ll go back to it,” she said nonchalantly.

While Hatchett was once again being amazed by his girlfriend, Jerry was calling Cindy Rivers at home. His worst fears were realized when Cindy’s mother said she wasn’t home.

“She was called in to work,” Missus Rivers said.

Jerry worriedly called the Sheriff’s Office and got the results he didn’t want when the dispatcher said no one there had called Deputy Rivers in to work. Jerry asked about Sheriff Thompson and was told the Sheriff was at a weekend Law Enforcement Conference in Huntington.

“The Chief Deputy is in charge this weekend. Do you need to talk to him?” the dispatcher asked.

Jerry told her no, hung up the phone, and turned to face Lola and his grandfather.

“I think Rick Thompson has Cindy at the mine,” he said.

His grandfather said, “Okay, so what are we going to do about it?”

Jerry replied, “I’m going to get Cindy and then I’m going to clean out that rat’s nest. It would be best if you two stayed here to avoid any consequences.”

Hatchett shook his head in the negative.

“I’m in this all the way, Son. They murdered my family, too,” Hatchett averred.

“I’m going, too,” said Lola.

At a look from Jerry and his grandfather she explained.

“Cindy will need someone to take care of her while you two are busy, and that someone needs to be another woman.”

Hatchett nodded and Jerry reluctantly agreed.

“Okay, but you keep your head down and stay out of trouble. I don’t need to be worried about you, too,” Hatchett said.

Jerry couldn’t make a plan without knowing the situation at the mine. So they drove up to the top of Pitchfork Mountain on the old logging road. Jerry drove his truck and Lola took her rented Catalina. The idea of taking two vehicles was so they’d have a way to get Cindy to the hospital. They left Lola’s car at the edge of the logging road just out of sight right where the rutted track exited the highway. There was no way they could take the car on that rutted dirt track. The three of them rode up to the spot where he usually parked, and then he and Hatchett crept down to the hide site overlooking the mine. Jerry’s blood ran cold when he saw Cindy and two other girls pulling a train on the picnic tables below.

Jerry gritted his teeth but forced himself to scan the area looking for weak spots he could exploit. The compound was much better defended now. There were three men armed with M-16s standing guard in the area around the picnic tables. Also, the Sons of Satan had dragged two of the old mine flat cars to either side of the gate. The cars were flipped on their sides as expedient barricades. A biker armed with an M-16 was standing behind each. It only took him a minute to come up with a plan. He tapped an equally angry Hatchett on the shoulder, and they slipped back to the truck.

“Bring the shotgun, Papa, and the .45. I’ll need you to watch my back. Lola you will need to get two other girls as well as Cindy. You are going to need more than the dress you packed. I have a couple of shirts in my camper, put them in your backpack. Make sure your pistol is loaded and handy, just in case you need to protect yourself,” Jerry said.

Jerry made sure he had all four M-14 magazines loaded then slapped one into the magazine well. He made sure the weapon was on safe and jacked a round into the chamber. Hatchett fed five rounds into the Winchester Police 1200’s extended tubular magazine, pumped a round into the chamber and then pushed another round into the tube.

Jerry handed Lola a couple of shirts that she stuffed into her backpack. She put Griggs’ .357 into the top of the bag and slipped her small Ladysmith .38 into her back pocket. Then she pulled a fancy ski mask out of her backpack. The mask was red with white circles around the mouth and eyes and a white pom-pom on top.

At Jerry’s inquisitive look she explained, “I bought this after the time with the motorcycle guy, just in case. Isn’t it cute?”

Jerry led the way down to the hole in the mine fence behind the electrician’s shed. He kept them in the wood line and out of sight of anyone in the compound until all three were inside the overground bushes on the inside of the fence. Jerry pointed towards a shallow drainage ditch about twenty feet in front of them.

“I’ll go first while you cover me, Papa. Once I’m in the ditch I’ll signal for you. Then Lola you’ll come last after we both are in it.”

When both Lola and his grandfather acknowledged him, Jerry started low crawling towards the ditch. Hatchett looked back at Lola. She was tense but had a determined look on her face. She saw him looking and gave him a tentative smile.

“Take care of yourself, Big Daddy,” she said softly.

Hatchett nodded and whispered back, “You too, Warrior Woman.”

Hatchett watched over Jerry until he reached the ditch. Jerry went unnoticed, as the bikers’ attention was on the picnic tables. Jerry took a covering position and signaled his grandfather forward. A minute later Hatchett dropped into the ditch next to his grandson. The ditch was deep enough to give them cover and concealment. It ran diagonally to within a hundred feet of the tipple house where it joined a shallow ditch running from the side of the manager’s office and another from the locker and bath building.

Jerry turned and gave Lola a nod. The scariest part of this for Jerry was when Lola was exposed. He sighed in relief when she squirmed into the ditch next to Hatchett. Lola frowned and rubbed her chest.

“That hurt my boobs Jericho. Tonight, you will need to kiss them better,” she whispered into Hatchett’s ear.

Jerry overheard the whispers and gave them both an eye roll.

“I’m going to move up the ditch and find an overwatch position. When I’m in place I’ll kick things off and hopefully scatter them from around Cindy and the other girls. You two need to move to the closest covered position you can find. When I give you the signal, run up and grab the women and then find some cover. Papa, you need your eyes on a swivel to cover the women, okay?”

Hatchett and Lola nodded their understand and Jerry crawled further down the ditch. Hatchett led Lola in the opposite direction until they were flat in the ditch 20 yards from the captive women. When Jerry saw them in position, he eased his head over the lip of the ditch and picked his first target. As much as he wanted to start with the rapist, instead, he took careful aim at the closest armed guard.

The rifle shot rang out and echoed off the looming mountain as the guard dropped like a rock. He was dead before he hit the ground as the bullet tore through his chest. Jerry didn’t bother to watch the biker fall as he shifted his aim to the next closest guard. This one was a hundred and fifty yards away on the far side of the tipple house. The man turned just as Jerry fired so the 7.62 round hit him in the right shoulder. He cried out, dropped his weapon, and fell to the ground clutching his arm.

The second shot galvanized the bikers into action as they all scrambled for cover. The last roving guard tried to run toward the manager’s office, but Jerry cut him down just as he reached to building. Jerry swung around towards his grandfather.

“Go!” he shouted.

Lola jumped up and sprinted toward the stunned women laying on the picnic tables, pistol in her hand and ridiculous ski mask on her head. Hatchett followed her at a slower pace as he scanned the area for threats. Lola reached the picnic tables and called out.

“Which one of you is Cindy?” she asked.

Cindy, sprawled on the middle table, waved her arms weakly. Lola hurried over to her, pulled off her backpack and dug out the dress.

“Can you put this on and walk?” Lola asked.

“Maybe,” Cindy slurred, “I feel really strange. I didn’t want to do any of this, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Cindy shrugged on the dress as Lola tried to revive the other two young women. She had one of Jerry’s shirts almost on one of the girls when Hatchett blasted a biker coming around the corner with a pistol in his hand. It took three agonizingly long minutes to get clothes on the other young women. The last girl was washrag limp no matter how hard Lola slapped her. Lola tucked her Ladysmith back into her pocket.

“We’ve got a problem, Jericho. You’ll have to carry this one and lead Cindy while I help the other one.”

While Lola and Hatchett were at the picnic tables sorting out the drugged women, Jerry was trying to look in every direction at once. His vigilance allowed him to pick off two more bikers when they poked their heads out of a doorway and a window of the tipple house. By now a few bikers were returning fire. They hadn’t found his exact location, but they were chewing up the area with indiscriminate gun fire.

Jerry slapped in another magazine and glanced over towards the picnic tables. He was wondering what was taking them so long when he saw Hatchett throw one of the women over his shoulder, the .45 pistol in his free hand and Cindy holding his belt and staggering behind him. Lola was holding up the other woman as she walked backwards holding the shotgun pointed at the tipple house.

By now some of the bikers were firing out of the tipple house windows at the escaping women, kicking dust up all around them. Jerry took out two of the bikers in the windows and the rest ducked out of the line of fire. Finally, the women and his grandfather made it to the ditch. Jerry heaved a sigh of relief when they slid out of sight.

Jerry fast crawled down the ditch where his grandfather, Lola, Cindy and the other two young women lay. Hatchett was peeking over the lip of the ditch while Lola was working to revive the three rescued women.

“We’ve got to get out of here before these assholes get organized,” Jerry said and Hatchett agreed.

“Let’s move down to the cut in the fence. Then you can cover me, and I’ll get the girls into the brush. Then I’ll fire them up while you move,” the older man said.