Chapter 11 (part 1)

Through his binoculars, Max saw the small building a few hundred yards ahead and allowed himself a fleeting moment of triumph. The two vans had come to a stop outside of this small shack but the bus had kept driving into the desert. Assuming that the men inside the vans were more important than the passengers aboard the bus, Max slowed the dirt bike to a crawl and then killed the engine altogether. He set the bike down on the desert floor and hunkered down beside it. Then, lying on his somtahc, he brought the binoculars to his face and watched as events unfolded.

He saw two men remove a single body from the back of one of the vans. Within a few seconds, Max saw that this was the body that had been clubbed with a tire iron. He also saw that this man was still alive. He was obviously groggy, but was able to walk with a little urging from the two men that hauled him out of the van.

Once these three men were inside the shack, Max continued to look in that same direction, making sure no one came outside to take guard duty. The fact that the bus had kept driving out into the desert was a bit puzzling, but Max was sure that this was where he needed to be if he wanted any suitable answers.

Taking another look around with the binoculars, he felt sure that there were no guards anywhere around the odd composition of shacks. He slowly got to his feet, holstering the binoculars around his shoulder. Now that he no longer had the steady drone of the dirt bike’s engine in his ears, every single movement he made seemed impossibly loud. He winced with every movement, afraid that he would somehow be found out.

With extreme caution, he quietly reached down to his gun holster and withdrew his Smith and Wesson .9mm. It was his own personal gun, not the service weapon he carried on his hip while on duty. This way, if things got out of hand, he could not be traced to his service gun. It seemed like an overly cautious approach to the night’s events, but Max didn’t want his fellow officers to find out about his ongoing investigation.

From time to time, Max was sickened at the knowledge of the Shinoe Police Department’s leniency and allowances granted to the men involved with the bus and their horrid practices. Of course, there were only certain members of the force who were aware of it; he had been on the force for five years now and he still hadn’t been filled on what they knew.

But that was okay. Max was certain that he knew much more than anyone on the Shinoe Police Department. Hell, maybe it was wrong to be angry at them for hiding this dark secret. He’d been keeping secrets of his own for quite a while now, so who was he to judge? He was just as guilty for hiding the acts and, as a result, the deaths of countless innocents.

Holding the .9mm in his right hand, Max hunched over and trotted closer towards the shack, bringing the binoculars to his eyes once more. He saw no guards posted anywhere along the perimeter of the building. The lack of security made him feel uncomfortable, as if there were hidden eyes spying on him from somewhere in the night.

He approached the two vans and took cover behind them. He looked into both of the vehicles and saw that their interiors were spotless. There was no trash, no papers, no signs of their foul play. Taking a moment longer to hide behind the vans, Max craned his neck out from behind the rear of the van closest to the shack.

Both windows along the front of the shack had been boarded up. Still, through a few miniscule cracks in the boarding, he could see faint traces of light from inside. They came dancing through the cracks in the boards like knives into the heart of the night. Once again checking the immediate area for anyone who might be outside, Max quickly left the cover of the vans and headed for the front door.

When he approached, he cocked his head forward, listening for anyone who might be inside. Standing by the building, the night seemed darker than ever now; he felt like he was walking on the moon, solitary and alone, rather than in the deserts of New Mexico. As he concentrated, he realized that he did hear someone speaking from behind the closed door and boarded windows, but the voice was too faint to be heard properly. A few seconds later, as Max remained perched at the door, he heard a slight scream from inside.

Shuddering from the sudden cry of pain, Max stepped back a bit, his gun aimed at the front door in case anyone came out. When it was clear that no one was coming out, he reclaimed his place by the front door, rigid in the shadows. Now as he listened, he heard a single chanted word.

“Amen.”

This was followed by the obvious sounds of a scuffling of some kind. Max thought of the man that had been taken out of the back of the van and imagined that he might be trying to escape now, hence the frantic sounds of movement from beyond the closed door.

Irritated at his lack of vision, Max went over to the window to his right. It had been boarded over from the inside, but there were a few minor cracks that he managed to peer between. He could just barely see two shapes, then three. They were moving around frantically for a moment and then a bit more relaxed. Narrowing his eyes to peer through the crack between the boards, Max finally managed to see the scene for a moment.

There were three men, one of which had a headful of disarrayed white hair, forcing a fourth man forward and away from the central large room of the shack. They were moving this fourth man into a hallway and as Max watched, the four men rounded the corner into the hallway and then disappeared from his sight.