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Mack grabbed Burt by the front of his robe. “Who is Adam Frinton?” he pushed, locking eyes with a wasted corn farmer who would spend his final moments cowering like a kicked dog. “I want answers or you're a dead man!” Brenda slammed her gun up against Burt's back. “Talk.”
Burt gulped. He had watched Mack gun down Brian with his own eyes, and he knew one of them had put Bob down. “Look, I’ll tell you everything I kn—” A single bullet from out of nowhere ripped into Burt's brain before the man could finish another word.
Mack grabbed Brenda and yanked her back into the diner as Burt's body slithered down the wall. Wilson ran after Mack. As he did a bullet tore into his right calf. The man cried out in pain as his body crumpled to the dry, cracked alley dirt. Brenda reached out a strong hand, grabbed Wilson by the hood of his robe, and yanked the man into the diner just as another bullet sank into the wall beside the man's head.
Adam Frinton gritted his teeth and looked at the diner through a sea of corn with vicious eyes.
Chapter 4
“Alright!” Mack shoved Wilson into the walk-in cooler, “this is your jail cell!”
Brenda stepped in front of the cooler door and fixed Wilson with a hard stare. “Talk,” she ordered, holding her Glock 17 at the ready.
Wilson stumbled into a metal shelf holding a few boxes of old tomatoes. “Adam Frinton is a killer,” he managed to say through chattering teeth.
“No cult?” Brenda asked.
Wilson shrugged his shoulders. “Adam pretends to be this prophet. He knows stuff about everyone in town, stuff people shouldn't know.” Wilson clutched his shoulders, like he was hugging himself to relieve his terror.
“What else happened,” Mack ordered Wilson in a hard voice that mirrored his vicious eyes.
“Adam Frinton knew stuff about everyone but me. He couldn't answer the questions I asked, told me to shut up. But he knew everything about Brian. And Cody, Ken, George, Burt, Bob, Melvin… all the guys. All the land owners, if you catch my drift. Tried to tell Brian that… then Brian beat me into a pulp.”
Brenda glanced over her shoulder at Mack. Mack was staring at Wilson, reading the skinny toad like a book. “So this is about stealing land?” she asked.
“Land is already stolen. Adam Frinton had all the guys sign over their land to him. Well, sell their land to him for pennies is more like it. He promised all the guys that if they sold their land to him that he would make them all kings, reward them for their loyalty.” Wilson tried to step forward but Mack shook his head no. “It's cold in here.”
“You're wearing that robe, punk,” Mack snapped. “Keep talking.”
Wilson knew Mack was bad news. Mack was a tough cop from the big city. Wilson was a coward. “Adam knew stuff, like I said. He made all the guys believe he was a real prophet. The guy even knew stuff about the little boy's old man. Only, the guy refused to sell his land. Frinton had Brian and Ken drag him out into the corn… they killed him.”
Mack reached forward and slammed the cooler door shut, locking Wilson inside. “We're looking at a covert operation of some kind.”
“Seems that way,” Brenda agreed, locking her eyes on the back door. “We have a sniper on the roof. Can't risk going back outside.”
Mack checked the M-16 he was holding. “They won't try to burn us out of this diner. The fire can spread to the other buildings and turn the corn into a sea of fire. The corn is dry from the heat. One spark would do the trick.”
“Are you suggesting we light the corn on fire?” Brenda asked without taking her eyes off the back door. “Whatever you decide I'm with you.”
Mack shook his head. “Not yet,” he answered Brenda, looking up at a flimsy sheetrock ceiling. “We need to try and pick off our targets one by one.” Mack lowered his eyes and called Josh back into the kitchen.
“You gonna put me back in the cooler?” Josh asked, easing into the kitchen.
“No,” Mack stated. “I need you to stay out front where I put you and scream as loud as you can if you see anyone trying to get into the diner. Brenda will be right here.
“Where are you going?” Josh asked.
“Up. Now get back out front, son.” Josh looked at Mack with confused, scared eyes, then did as he was told.
“If we burn the corn right now, we won't get far,” Mack told Brenda, handing her the M-16 he was holding. “We can try to escape into the corn fields on the opposite side of the road, but we would be running blind, and if the fire spread, we could end up trapped. Plus these local guys probably know these cornfields like the back of their hand.”
Brenda watched Mack step up onto a flimsy wooden table and yank a sharp pocket knife out of the front pocket of his trench coat. “I'll watch the diner,” she said as Mack began cutting into the ceiling. Small pieces of sheetrock began striking Mack in his rough face.
He worked on cutting a hole in the ceiling he could fit through. After clearing away enough sheetrock, he put his pocket knife away, grabbed onto two solid wooden rafters, and hoisted himself up into a hot, tight crawl space. Old plywood covered the bottom of the roof, nailed down to weak two-by-fours. A simple shingled roof lay on top of the plywood. Mack poked his head back down into the kitchen. “Hand me that kitchen knife.”
Brenda spotted a sharp kitchen knife laying on the floor. She grabbed the knife and extended the handle up to Mack.
Brenda focused her eyes on the back door. Adam will expect us to dig in. He won't expect us to attack.
