Goon - 20. Chapter 20

Micah really, really hated having a white Christmas. The snow was falling as he drove to the airport and he was just glad that the flight should be landing right about now. If it had been any later, the airport would have been closed, especially since all the regular commercial flights were finished for the day.

“With the absence of the odd high pressure ridge, snow flurries are being reported as far south as Florida.” The news announcer on the big red truck’s satellite radio sounded far too cheerful for Micah and he pushed a button to change it to another station. Green Day sounded so much better blasting out of his speakers as he finally pulled up in front of the General Aviation building. He could see the jet sitting on the tarmac, and several figures huddling near the plane’s belly where a hatch was opened.

“It’s fucking freezing here!” Corey complained as Micah met him at the fence. One of the flight crew opened it for Corey, who hugged Micah before they turned to get his luggage loaded. “Jesus that thing really is huge.”

“Just three bags?” Micah asked as he took the two larger bags from the crewman who nodded at him before turning to trot back to the plane. They would want to take off and get home before the snow closed the runway and they missed Christmas with their families.

“I figured you could spend some of that money Mom gave you on filling out my cold-weather wardrobe.” Corey said as they reached the side of the truck. Micah easily flipped the luggage over the rim of the bed while Corey frowned. “Hey, that’s genuine…”

“Oh shut up and get inside.” Micah said with a grin as he tossed the third bag over the edge and then got up on the rail to open the passenger door. Corey was wearing a good warm trench coat with a sock hat covering his red hair. Micah kissed him as he gave Corey a hand getting up and into the cab.

By the time he had gone around to get into the driver’s side, Corey had already managed to mess up the GPS navigation system, turn the radio station to some sappy pop station on the satellite dial, and had the heater blasting at full power.

“How the hell can you stand it here, it’s so damn cold!” Corey complained as the door shut and Micah buckled up. “It’s a good thing those tires are so big or we’d probably never make it to your place.

“I’ve missed you too, Corey.” Micah said as he put the truck in gear and pulled out of the aviation terminal.

“I don’t get why we had to come up here for Christmas instead of you staying at the house.” Corey complained, but he had a smile on his face.

“Just be glad the parents decided to let you come anyway.” Micah said with a sigh. “You know they’ve been all pushy and overprotective since the whole false arrest thing and that bad media that Kilgore orchestrated.”

“I can’t believe she’s really dead.” Corey said with a slightly awed tone. “How do you think they got someone inside to do it?”

“What? You don’t think it was a suicide?” Micah asked with a hint of sarcasm showing through his voice.

“I don’t think anyone believes it was a suicide who actually knows what went on.” Corey said. “As for the public, well who knows if anyone really believes the whole ‘undercover to flush out corrupt government officials’ story, but if blaming things on Bush has worked for the past four years, I imagine it’ll work for this one.”

“Well, it’s not all that much of a story.” Micah said. “Most of those people were put in those positions while he was President, whether he was part of the plan or not.”

“I just want to go back to school and relax.” Corey said as he settled back into his seat. Micah agreed with his words, even if they would have to deal with a team of ten Lupo Security agents now living at the school. There were two in the truck behind him who had followed him from the house and were now following him back home.

“What about spending the next week with me?” Micah asked, putting a bit of pretend hurt in his voice.

“It’s going to be torture.” Corey groaned. “We’re stuck in a house together and there’s no way we dare have sex. I’ve wanted you to take your turn fucking me and there’s no way we’ll be able to do that here, and no way that we can risk going that far in school.”

“You should have faith in me by now.” Micah said smugly and enjoyed the look of surprise on Corey’s face.

“What did you do?” Corey asked with baited breath. Micah was already hard as a rock under all the layers of clothes, and had been since Corey said ‘fucking me’. At least when they got out into the cold the weather should cool him off some.

“Mom insisted you stay in a hotel room downtown.” Micah said with a sigh.

“So you’re going to sneak away?” Corey asked hopefully. Micah tried to concentrate on the road. It was wet, slippery and very dark out there. Up ahead it looked like an entire section of street lights had failed, probably because of frozen power lines. In this stretch of road, the snow was piled nearly five feet high.

“No.” Micah drew out Corey’s anticipation and smiled at the frown he saw flit across his boyfriend’s face.

“Okay, stop teasing me and get it over with.” Corey said with a groan and Micah grinned widely.

“Security won’t be split up and they insist we both stay under their watchful gaze at all times.” Micah told him and Corey chuckled.

“That’s perfect!” Corey laughed. “She won’t want me spending the night and security won’t let you stay there while I’m somewhere else.”

“She got pissed and demanded they bring in more agents, but then she refused to cough up the money for it and gave in after insisting we have different rooms.” Micah laughed. “I’ve got two rooms reserved for us at the Bell-Vue downtown. We’ll go there after hot chocolate and all that stuff with Mom and Dad.”

“You’re calling him ‘Dad’ again, huh?” Corey noted, referring to John.

“Yeah, he and I are getting along a lot better now.” Micah said with a sigh.

“Well good.” Corey said and Micah was pleased at the sound of approval in his boyfriend’s voice. “I’m glad he’s come around to see how special you are.”

“You’re going to give me a swelled head.” Micah warned him.

“I hope so.” Corey laughed. He reached over to grab Micah’s crotch and Micah squirmed in his seat. That was when he noticed the flutter of movement and his body reacted before his mind had even processed what he’d seen. His foot smashed the accelerator at the same time that his hand pushed away Corey’s before going back onto the steering wheel.

Several things happened at one time, and Micah barely had time to process everything. His large tires spun out with the sudden torque before finally digging into the slick roadway and propelling them forward at the same time that he yanked the wheel hard to the left. It was only the fact that his truck was so damn high that he had even been able to see the movement, and the missile that streaked out of the shoulder launcher missed the tailgate of his swerving truck by less than an inch. It smashed into the road behind him, finding the hard surface of the roadway a fine target for its armor-piercing warhead.

The 1980’s vintage LAW rocket punched nearly a foot into the roadway before it exploded, sending chunks of dirt and asphalt into the air. The second rocket hit its target, who hadn’t the second of warning that Micah had gotten, and slammed right into the passenger cabin of the SUV. It exploded, killing both of the men inside and converting the SUV into a shrapnel-throwing fireball. Micah’s truck was perforated by flying metal and asphalt even as Corey began screaming at the top of his lungs while scrambling for his cell phone.

“Where are we?” Corey demanded as he dialed 911 on his phone. Micah was turning out the truck’s light at the same moment, hoping to take advantage of the dark street at the same time that small arms fire began hitting the vehicle. His wheels were big, more than easy targets for the gunman, but they were also run-flat tires, and he could go as fast as 50 mph even with them all shot up.

“Vine, just past Middlefield!” Micah replied in an excited tone. “There’s a pistol under the seat.”

“Fat lot of good that’s going to do.” Corey shot back. “Yeah, we’re under attack! We’re on Vine, just past Middlefield, heading south on the road. Gunmen on the side of the road attacked with RPGs and assault weapons. NO! What do you mean is this a crank call? Hell fucking no, look at the name on my caller ID. Yes, Howard, does that ring a bell?”

“Duck down.” Micah ordered. Physics was their friend, and he saw the flash of light far behind him. The truck was already shuddering as he accelerated past the recommended 50 miles per hour, and he hit the brakes for a split second as he saw the flash, sacrificing speed for maneuverability.

“Shit, they’re firing again!” Corey yelled into the phone. He had seen the rocket flash. “I am serious, woman! What the hell is that, RPG-7?”

“LAW.” Micah answered as he swung the truck to the left, letting the tailgate fishtail and then pushing it back to the right just before they hit the snow bank. “Tell them we just passed Old Rowan and there’s a damn light-anti-tank weapon sitting in the snow bank on the side of the road. “Corey, drop the phone and get behind the wheel.”

“What are you doing?” Corey demanded as Micah unbuckled his belt, leaving the phone open on the seat behind him. Micah had reached under his seat and pulled out the 9mm Beretta under his seat, and the four spare magazines, sliding them into his pockets while chambering a round and flipping the safety off.

“Drive south and don’t stop until you’re behind a police line.” Micah growled, grabbing Corey hard and smashing their lips together. He broke the kiss, slid the door open and jumped into the bank of snow on the side of the road. Corey did what Micah hoped, cussing at him before taking off at top speed. Micah was committed, and his leaving in the truck would be a decoy that might keep him alive.

He would have preferred an assault rifle, or better yet an RPG of his own, but all he had in the truck were pistols. Getting more than that was difficult as hell for a sixteen-year-old kid, but he made fervent promises to himself that he’d manage it if they survived this. He was calm, far calmer than he should be as the sound of an approaching vehicle got closer.

If they’d kept their lights on, he might have hesitated, but the SUV he saw approaching had no lights on and was going far faster than was safe. He stood on the top of the snow bank to get a better aim, and was satisfied to see the driver start to react to his popping up so suddenly. His first three bullets smashed into the windshield, at just the right angle, and the driver was hit.

Most likely he had on body armor, and Micah didn’t expect the powerful 9mm bullets to kill the driver. That only happened in movies. What he expected, he got, mostly because he knew Wyoming winters better than these men did. Most combat in the last few years happened in desert country, and these men were unaccustomed to modern roads in the middle of winter with snow falling.

The SUV was going too fast and the driver’s initial reaction to Micah’s appearance had been bad. The top-heavy vehicle was already unbalanced and the driver’s reaction to bullets smashing through his windshield and hitting him made it worse. Even if Micah’s shots hadn’t killed him, they did cause him to lose control and Micah had to duck as the vehicle rolled over, heading straight for him.

He managed to dodge it, if just barely, and had to shake his head to regain his bearings as it continued to roll past him. Luckily they weren’t yet in the populated area of town or there’d be houses and civilians getting hit. Instead the truck came to rest not more than ten feet from Micah, and the doors began to open. Micah had choices to make, and he chose his own safety over any other considerations.

The next three rounds he fired took the first guy out of the SUV in the head. They were dressed in black gear, and showed up wonderfully against the white backdrop of snow, as Micah was sure he did as well. Three more bullets went into the driver-side window where the driver was struggling to get out of the vehicle that had come to rest on its now-flat tires.

Unfortunately, the men on the far side of the SUV were able to get out without being directly in Micah’s line-of-fire, and he was running again, heading to the nearby telephone pole that provided his best chance of cover. One of the attackers was a damn good shot. Micah grunted as the man’s bullet grazed his left arm, penetrating the heavy winter coat that he’d paid over $1,800 for, and causing warm blood to flow down his arm.

“Get him!” One of the men’s voices shouted as Micah reached the pole and went flat to minimize his profile. There was no use trying to fire through the SUV and he didn’t bother. “Watch out for the other one!”

“Surrender!” Another male voice shouted. “You can’t hope to survive! There are four of us?”

“Three, mother fucker.” Micah said as he saw the shifting of shadows under the SUV. His sixth round hit its target, shattering one of their ankles. Cursing the numbness creeping up his left arm, he released the empty magazine and put in a fresh one, giving him fifteen more rounds. A Beretta 9mm could hold more than fifteen, but storing more than that in the magazine weakened the springs too much and caused too many gun jams. Two fewer rounds was a reasonable trade-off to make sure you had a magazine capable of firing fifteen when you needed it the most.

“Get him!” The man on the ground shouted, his pale face giving Micah a hint of where to aim. Three rounds silenced him forever, and now he could hear the cursing of the men as there was the wail of sirens in the distance. The men shifted their stances to hide behind the tires, and although he could hear the murmurs of voices, he could not hear what they were saying.

“Shit.” He mumbled as his cell phone rang. A shot rang out, hitting near him, and he moved to get more cover behind the very, very thin telephone pole. At least they were using pistols. The rifles they’d used earlier were either out of ammo or still in the vehicle, out of easy reach. Then he saw it, and he smiled before taking very careful aim.

This SUV had its fuel tank on the driver’s side, and his first shot hit right below the round cover where it was fueled up. Four more shots in rapid succession and in a very tight pattern, one foot directly below the cap followed, and he could hear the men cussing louder. His next round struck sparks into a flow of fuel, or maybe fumes. Whichever it was, the result was a little disappointing. The SUV didn’t explode like you saw in the movies.

It only flew about six inches above the ground, and flames shot out of the back end only. Still it was enough and there was one flame-covered figure running, and Micah put four rounds into him before he could roll and put out the flames. One more man was standing there, and Micah was able to look him in the eyes for a split second.

The flames made him look young, but he was probably in his early twenties, having just finished a four-year hitch in the Army, or maybe one of the other services. There was fear in his eyes and Micah almost felt sorry for him, right up until the man began to raise his weapon. Micah’s last three rounds hit in a triangle pattern right above the bridge of the man’s nose, and he fell boneless to the snow.

That was when Micah vomited, and then collapsed sobbing into the vomit-covered snow.

“Good shooting, Jericho.” Three hours later, the Sheriff’s words almost caused Micah to puke again. He was sitting in the Sheriff’s office with the man, holding a cup of coffee and trying to take sips of it as his stomach rebelled. It was the sixth time someone had said that to him, and he’d have almost preferred to be in the jail section instead of the Sherriff’s office, seated across the desk from him and with the door closed behind him.

The only good thing was that no one had even hinted at slapping handcuffs on him this time.

“Just doing what I was trained to do.” Micah said and the Sheriff shook his bald head. He looked tired, and irritated at being called out of his warm home on Christmas Eve, but he didn’t appear to be blaming Micah.

“I think I might send my boy to that school of yours if this is what they produce.” The Sheriff said with a grunt. He had a file in his hand. “Five to one, they’re armed with anti-tank rockets, machine guns, and pistols. You have a 9mm pistol and an unarmed, unarmored big red fucking truck. At the end of the night, you walk away with a graze wound and they are all dead.”

“We lost our security escort.” Micah pointed out. “Two men.”

“Taken out in the first seconds of the ambush, an ambush you spotted.” The Sheriff replied and Micah bit back the comment about running convoys in Afghanistan. He wasn’t the man who’d done that. Nor was he the man who would even want to do that again. He was sick and tired of killing and being shot at.

“All five of these men are ex-Army, Special Forces.” The Sheriff continued. “According to what we’ve pulled up, they were employees of De Security, a company I believe you’ve heard of before.”

“Yes.” Micah said. The Senator must have shared some details that weren’t quite public knowledge.

“Are you going to be okay, son?” The Sheriff asked with concern. “I’d think you’d be a little better at handling this. It’s not the first time you’ve killed someone, at least.”

“No, but maybe it’ll be the last.” Micah said. John had come to the station, and was still sitting out in the lobby. Micah’s mother had flat refused to come, and refused to let John bring little John with him. She’d made it clear Micah could stay at the hotel tonight, and shouldn’t bother swinging by tomorrow for presents. John had told him she was afraid, but would get over it eventually.

“Trouble does seem to find you.” The Sheriff laughed coarsely. “I remember a time a few years ago when I was worried about having to arrest you for a reason like the one your birth father was arrested for all those years ago.”

“Yeah, a whole bunch of people seemed to worry about that.” Micah said as he grimaced again.

“I’ve been on the phone with the US Marshal Service.” The Sheriff continued, speaking as if he was about to give him bad news. “They will have a pair of men here in the morning to take care of you. As I understand it, you’re being put under their protection from now on.”

“Damn.” Micah murmured with wide eyes. “There goes any hope of ever having some alone time.”

“I’ve been told to tell you it’s not the full Witness Protection program.” The Sheriff said with a smile. “You can’t exactly make the son of a US Senator disappear, and making his boyfriend disappear is just as hard.”

“You don’t seem bothered by our being gay.” Micah observed.

“You have heard of Matthew Shepherd, haven’t you?” The man asked and Micah nodded.

“Yeah, of course.” Micah said aloud.

“I’m not going to have another case like that if I can help it.” The man growled. “Now, why don’t you get out there to your boyfriend, and I’ll add my hopes to yours that you never have to shoot anyone again. Listen to the Marshals. It’ll be their job to help you with that.”

“How did you…” Micah asked and the man smiled at him again. It was a warm, fatherly smile, full of compassion.

“I’ve seen the look far too many times in the mirror, son.” The Sheriff answered and Micah nodded at the man, hoping the man would see the respect he had for him.

“You’re not in handcuffs.” Corey said in a teasing tone as he sat down on a bench between his boyfriend and his stepfather.

“Don’t tease him like that.” John chided Corey. “You doing okay, son?”

“Yeah, Dad, I think I am.” Micah said with a sigh as he leaned back against the wall. They were sitting here for their protection, surrounded by three deputies, trying to pretend they were busy while they sat guard duty on Christmas Eve instead of home with their families. Actually, according to the clock on the wall it was now Christmas Day. “How about you?”

“I’m good.” His father said.

“I’m good too, if you care.” Corey said with a little smile. Micah returned the smile with one of his own and took his boyfriend’s hand. One of the deputies gave them a sidelong glance, but no one said anything.

“I do care.” Micah said gently. “You know that.”

“It’s Christmas.” Corey said with surprise as he looked at the clock.

“There’s a bike sitting at home waiting for Santa to get there and put it together.” John said with a chuckle. “Santa had hoped he’d have an elf or two to help him put it together before John Junior woke up.”

“You don’t need to stay, Dad.” Micah said with a sigh. “The Sheriff will keep us here until the Marshals arrive. He said we’re going into some kind of protection program.”

“British boarding school.” His step-father said and Micah frowned. “Sorry, while you were talking to the Sheriff, I was on a conference call with Senator Howard and the Marshal that’s going to be in charge of keeping you two safe. They’re arranging you to spend the next year and a half at the same boarding school that their royal princes went to years ago. They say it’s safe and is use to handling large security details.”

“Damn.” Micah said with a frown.

“Yeah, sounds like they’ll know how to keep us out of trouble too.” Corey groaned. “I tried to protest, but Dad said no way. Huntsville just isn’t set up to handle the security needs. He also said that with the British gun control laws, it’s harder to get weapons in there like they used.”

“I won’t have my guns there like I did here.” Micah pointed out and Corey sighed.

“Here we go, 2^nd Amendment argument again.” Corey laughed.

“You boys have this argument often?” Micah’s step-father asked.

“Not often, just twice at school.” Micah said with a sigh. “Dad, go home and work on that bike. We’ll be okay here and the Marshals will bring us by before we leave tomorrow. If we’re still welcome, that is.”

“It’s your home, son.” John said firmly. “You’re a Jericho, and you’ll always be welcome at home.”

“Thanks.” Micah said, hugging the man tightly to hide the tears in his eyes. He wasn’t afraid for Corey to see him crying, but he didn’t want the deputies to see the tears. Even if they didn’t think it made him weak, he didn’t want to break down in front of them, and he feared the tears just might lead to that.

“Be strong son.” John told him in a firm, gentle voice that helped Micah reclaim his shattered control. He was surprised when their hug ended and John hugged Corey too before leaving. It was a level of acceptance he’d not hoped for in either of his parents, and it touched his heart.

“I like that man.” Corey said as John Jericho left.

“Yep.” Micah agreed, taking Corey’s hand back in his. He wondered if he’d ever get his gun back, but that was actually the smallest of his worries. “You know it’s me they were after, right?”

“Same as the helicopter kidnap, but I’m sure they weren’t going to spill any tears if they got me too.” Corey said. “My father was every bit as much a part of their downfall as you were. Give them a clear shot at me, they’ll shoot just to hurt you and the old man.”

“You might be able to stay at Huntsville if you wanted.” Micah suggested.

“You fucking kidding me?” Corey asked with wide eyes. “Are you trying to dump me so you can sleep around with a bunch of snobby British boys next year?”

“I’m not the slut, remember?” Micah said with a wry smile. “You’re the one with the habit of spending the night in strange rooms.”

“Not since I met you.” Corey retorted and snuggled up against Micah, who put his arm around Corey’s shoulders and held him tight against him. It felt good to be sitting there like that, no matter the location. He’d never let Corey in that close to him in that other future life, and he’d been so damn stupid to reject this.

“I know.” Micah said gently, reassuringly. “I’ve never doubted that at all.”

“You better not.” Corey murmured, thumping Micah’s thighs. “I’d have to teach you the meaning of honor and fidelity all over again.”

“I was such a fool.” Micah laughed to himself.

“You’re talking about in that other world.” Corey stated. “The future where you and I weren’t a couple, where you kept rejecting me.”

“Yeah.” Micah admitted with a sigh.

“I feel so sorry for that other me.” Corey said softly. “He never got to know the real you, the Micah Jericho you are now, the one you always had the potential of being.”

“I feel sorry for both of them” Micah said. “Maybe it was such a horrible world where we weren’t together than this all happened just so we’d be a couple.”

“Now that would be an example of Manifest Destiny!” Corey said with a laugh.

“Oh god, I hate that part of history.” Micah groaned. “Those bastards in the Industrial Revolution were so damn full of themselves. They thought their own shit was golden.”

“You know, the more you look at the people who did this to us, like Linda Kilgore, the more you see that they’re like those robber barons of the Industrial Era.” Corey stated sadly.

“Only, well we’ve got more laws protecting us now.” Micah said.

“For now.” Corey agreed. “Unless they get someone like Kilgore elected.”

“Well that’s not going to happen now.” Micah said with a grin.

“Nope, thanks to you.” Corey said.

“Hey!” Micah protested. “You helped!”

“That’s me, plucky sidekick Robin at your service!” Corey chuckled and Micah began to blush. “What? What’s got you blushing?”

“I’ve got this image of you in a Robin outfit, on your knees while I’m in a Batman suit with the codpiece removed.” Micah said as quietly as he could. Corey broke out into laughter, and Micah soon joined him, ignoring the looks of Deputies who were rolling their eyes at the ‘typical teenagers’. Micah squeezed Corey against him, glad his life was going to be relatively calm, and even happier that he was going to be able to keep Corey.

Live was good, once you stepped out of the shadows and acted instead of just watching everything.