Closing her eyes in contentment, Sierra slept.
Cory Holliday cleaned his gun almost by rote. He’d been able to disassemble and reassemble any kind of weapon in under ten seconds by the time he was eight. His dad had made sure of that.
Many people would say that Cory had a tough childhood, but he didn’t really see it that way.
His father had been in the Marines, had given his all to his country…and then he’d been kicked out without a second thought. Dishonorably discharged. For some bullshit charge that the government had never even been able to prove. When he’d come home, he was no longer the proud man Cory remembered. He was bitter, angry, and vengeful.
After his dad was sent home in disgrace, the goal for the remainder of his life was to show the world how corrupt and abusive the military really was. He’d passed his hatred on to Cory. Teaching his only son to hate the government as much as he did.
If his father was still alive today, Cory knew he’d be proud of him. Proud to stand by his side, to participate in what he had planned for the brainwashed soldiers stationed at Fort Hood, and everyone who lived and worked in the area.
Cory was more than ready to move on to the next part of his plan. The Strong Foot Militia had been in Killeen for a few weeks. There were several dozen of them who’d made the journey, taking turns picketing outside the main gate of Fort Hood. Cory loved seeing the discomfort and even fear on the faces of soldiers, contractors, and family members as they entered and left the Army post.
While the main group was camped just outside the city, Cory had handpicked ten of his youngest, loyal, ardent followers for a more important mission. The actual reason they were in Killeen in the first place.
The eleven of them were holed up in an abandoned house at the moment, which had gotten very old. They’d scared the closest neighbors bad enough that no one would dare call the cops. But this place wouldn’t make the kind of impact they needed. No—they needed a larger house. A fancier one, preferably occupied.
One that would make everyone cringe in horror when it blew up.
And they needed bait.
Cory knew it wasn’t as simple as just taking over some random person’s house. No, they needed a reason for the reporters to show up. For the military to take notice and do their best to take it back. Cory and his group could egg them on, force their hand. Make them use deadly force to end the siege. Just like they’d done in Waco. The country had been horrified at the government’s actions during that siege, and Cory wanted a repeat of the event.
He was ready to die for the cause. As would his followers. In return for their sacrifice, he needed to make sure the country was watching. Seeing firsthand how out-of-control their government had gotten. Everyone needed to witness their murder—then, and only then, would the citizens of this great country finally have the blinders ripped from their eyes. They’d rise up against the tyranny they’d been living under without even knowing.
But again…they needed bait. A highly decorated and respected soldier to dangle in front of the military community. Dare them to try to rescue one of their evil own.
Cory had been watching and waiting for the right person as they picketed outside the gates of hell, otherwise known as Fort Hood. It needed to be someone with a high-enough rank that the brass would care about losing. A private or someone else equally expendable wouldn’t do. He and the others had been following soldiers home for days now, and they’d yet to find a house that would work for their plan. They were all too small, in crowded neighborhoods. Too crowded for Cory and his men to control the situation effectively.
They just needed to be patient. Eventually they’d find the perfect soldier. Maybe someone with a family. Kids always ramped up everyone’s emotions.
“Pass me another joint,” Adam called out.
Cory sat in the back of the room, continuing to clean his rifle, simply an observer as Sam, Cameron, Rob, Adam, and Zeke smoked pot.
Brody, Alan, Tony, Luis, and Kevin were on duty at the moment. Standing outside the Army post, mingling with other Strong Foot members, harassing anyone who went in or out. If they could gain more followers with their protests, great. But newcomers wouldn’t be involved in the master plan, nor would the rest of their group. The dozens of members who’d come to join the protest…but couldn’t be trusted to carry out Cory’s will.
The ten chosen men were from their home base of San Angelo. They were all young, several were high school dropouts, and most were easily managed with the promise of free drugs. Even they didn’t know his ultimate plan, but they didn’t have to. They were true followers. They’d do what he said, simply because he said it.
Putting his rifle on the floor, Cory grabbed the small bag of pot beside him and walked over, handing it to Adam.
“Thanks, man.”
Cory nodded and walked back to his spot against the wall. He picked up his rifle once more, continuing his methodical work. Once they found their mark, they’d go to the storage unit he’d rented a couple months ago and collect the rest of their arsenal. The RPG and other weaponry would show the US Military that they were serious—and force them to fight back with the same strength.
Smiling, Cory sat back and closed his eyes. Soon. All his hard work would come to fruition, and his father would be avenged. They just needed to step up their game and find the perfect place and bait. Then the fun would begin.
Chapter Sixteen
“If you get overwhelmed, just let me know and we’ll leave,” Grover said.
Sierra smiled over at him. It was Sunday, and they were on their way to Lucky’s house for a get-together. The original plan was to meet at Doc’s, but as the ladies worked out the details on their group chat, the venue had changed to Lucky’s place.
“I will.” She didn’t bother to say that she’d be fine, they both knew that might not be the case. As much as she enjoyed being around others, she’d learned in Colorado that it was more difficult than she’d thought it would be. Her therapist had reassured her being in large groups would get easier, but for now she was taking things one day at a time.
Even though she’d planned on going back to her apartment Saturday night, she’d fallen asleep on Grover’s couch instead. They’d gone to her apartment early in the day and unpacked more of her boxes, but she’d eventually wanted some fresh air. She and Grover went back to his property, and she’d helped him with some yard work, using the riding lawnmower—which was a new experience for her—while he used the weed eater.
Grover had made them another amazing dinner and then turned on Cheer on Netflix, something he claimed he’d never watch on his own, but he thought she might enjoy it. Sierra didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep, but was vaguely aware of being carried up the stairs and cuddling into Grover’s side. It wasn’t until waking this morning that she realized she’d once again stayed the night at the farmhouse instead of her own place.
And Trigger had been right. Gillian had initiated a long day of texts in their group chat, about what time everyone was planning to arrive, what everyone might want to bring. It felt nice to be included. She hadn’t participated in the conversation much, but she’d loved hearing the ding each time a new text came through.