Tripwire - Cover

Tripwire

Copyright© 2021 by UtIdArWa

Chapter 17

KOIN News is saddened to report the on-duty death of one of Salem’s finest. Officer Frank Strickland was responding to a report of a domestic assault when a semi-truck and trailer struck the patrol vehicle he was driving. The investigation for the incident is still ongoing, but the truck driver remained on the scene and has tested negative for intoxicating substances. Officer Strickland is survived by his ex-wife and two children. The whole news crew at KOIN wishes to express their sincere condolences to Officer Strickland’s family.

In other tragic news, a family in the Salem suburbs were victims of what appears to have been a murder, suicide. Lester Stockdale is reported to have murdered his wife and son and then turned his weapon on himself. Family, friends, and neighbors were dumbfounded at the overnight tragedy. Mr. Stockdale was said to have been an avid outdoorsman who enjoyed camping, fishing, and hunting. Family members were stunned at the news and described Stockdale as a quiet yet friendly man.

George Kidman was seated at his kitchen table, eating his breakfast, when the TV announced the news reporting the deaths of Strickland and Stockdale. He sat open-jawed as the information slowly sunk into his mind. Then, finally, he jumped up from the table, startling his wife, and bolted from the room. “George? Honey, is there a problem?”

George didn’t say anything but ran into his home office and slammed the door shut. When his wife tried to enter, the door was locked. “George? Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Kidman was desperately trying to log onto his computer. When he was finally able to get online, he immediately went to a special program and pulled up an encrypted E-Mail server. But, unfortunately, there was only one message that had arrived 2 hours earlier.

The sender information was a code name for a field agent. George couldn’t remember which one. The subject was the only item, “Checking in.” There was no message.

“Damnit,” George swore to himself. Then, thinking for a moment, he composed a message. He then sent it to all the recipients on the mailing list. Thirty people were on that list. Some were hard-core members. Others were just associates and hangers on. The message was the emergency scatter order.

Not surprisingly, it was early in the morning. There was no immediate response. Instead, George got up and paced around the room several times. Each time he passed his computer, he would check the inbox.

After 30 minutes, there had still been no incoming messages. George, frustrated, decided to go ahead with his regular morning routine and get ready for the workday.

As he walked out of his office, his wife was standing there, tears in her eyes. “George, Honey, What’s the problem? You’re scaring me.”

“Don’t worry about it, Louise. It’s nothing that affects you or the kids. Just something on the TV that startled me.”

“Is it about that Cop? I seem to remember that name. Somebody you’ve worked with?”

“No, No, No, nothing like that. Honest Louise, it’s nothing you need to worry about. I’m going to get ready for work now. I’ll tell you what, Tonight I’ll take you out to dinner, just the 2 of us. See if you can find a babysitter for the kids. Check with your sister. God knows she owes you a favor or two.”

There was still concern in Louise’s eyes. “OK, Honey, I’ll do that. But you be careful today. I’m scared for you. It always seems like these disasters happen in threes.”

“Poppycock, Louise. You have nothing to worry about.”

George kissed his wife on the cheek and started his morning routine. After showering, shaving, and brushing his teeth, He pulled out the equipment to test his blood glucose levels. His doctor had become concerned that George might be developing diabetes and had him start checking his levels every day.

He had everything set up, except for the lancet. When he checked the box, it was empty.

“Louise, did you pick up some new lancets at the pharmacy?”

There was no response, and George was about to go looking for her when he noticed a new box sitting off to one side. He opened the box and found a fresh supply. These were different from the ones he usually used. A different color. But the shape was the same. When George checked, they fit the injector he had. Shrugging, He loaded a new lancet in and positioned it on his fingertip.

When he pressed the release, there was the expected momentary sharp pain. Except this time, it seemed a bit more intense.

Before George could consider that fact, his vision started to blur. His tongue started to swell, and his throat tightened. He didn’t notice losing his balance and falling.

As the curare that had coated the lancet needle sped into George’s cell’s, He had no idea that at the level he had just injected himself, there was nothing that could be done to save him. Or that in sending out his earlier mass e-mail to all the members of his anti-government militia group, he had targeted all of them to a similar fate.

Louise didn’t find George’s body until well after rigor had started setting in. By that time, the drug he had injected was already flushed from his system. His death would be reported as a natural heart attack.

That first week at the line shack was nice. At least it was nice for everybody else. I had spent several winters there, and it was all old hat to me. Granted, I wasn’t on the working end on the job anymore, but it gets repetitive once you’ve seen all the sights.

But we still had fun. I took Jim out and started teaching him how to fly fish. Once Suzy had caught her share of dinner, she lost interest and started browsing the plants and herbs. Lance worried me. He didn’t seem to have any interest in the situation at all. He spent as much time as he could running down the batteries watching TV.

I quickly had the basic’s down for Jim, enough to get him started. I say started because any true fly fisherman will tell you, there is always something new to learn. That is half the fun.

I also started teaching him about bushcraft. I wasn’t quite sure how much he knew or what he did know that was worthwhile, but he seemed to enjoy the time.

Suzy even took some time to teach him a little about cooking. It gave her an excuse to do some open-fire cooking on the firepit, which she enjoyed as much as the rest of us.

After a week, I took my morning sip of coffee and was badly disappointed. It wasn’t only that it was decaf. It was also freeze-dried.

Suzy saw my look and said, “Sorry Matt, that’s all we have available. But, unfortunately, we’re also low on beans, rice, flour, and bacon.”

The source of this story is Finestories

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