Retribution Road by Jon Coon (e reader comics .TXT) 📕

tugged at her heart until she realized Emily was on the porch struggling to get the tattered screen door open.

“Mom, I can’t get this door. I think—”

“Who are you and what do you want?” a metallic voice boomed from hidden speakers.

Emily jumped and nearly fell backward down the porch steps. Carol caught her and stepped up to the door. “I’m Carol Evans, ah—Carol Bright. Tom Bright’s daughter. And this is my daughter, Emily.”

“There’s a stairwell under the south end of the porch. Come down and I will open the door for you. Leave any weapons and cell phones in the whiskey barrel.”

Carol looked down at Emily, who nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Which way is south, Mom?”

Carol looked at the sun and tried to imagine a sundial and the rotation of the earth in relationship to the sun. “I think it’s that way,” she said, pointing toward the trees where the ATV was parked. They came down the steps, and when they got to the end, discovered a recessed, short tunnel leading to a door that looked like it should’ve been on a bank vault. They followed instructions and put their phones in the barrel and then the door pinged and popped and swung open as some sort of mechanical drive operated two large rams on the inside.

A young man, early thirties, with unkempt, shoulder-length, sandy-brown hair and Coke-bottle glasses appeared in the doorway. “Hi, I’m Jimmy, the duty tech geek. People call me Jimmy the Geek. But I’m not sure the ones who do are my friends. Please come in.”

“What is this?” Carol asked.

“We call it The Last Resort. It may be the coolest bomb shelter of all time,” Jimmy answered. “Except maybe the ones in Virginia for the president and all the politicians.”

As they followed him and their eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, they saw TV monitors, at least twenty, from access points and observation points strategically located all over the property.

“Wow,” Emily said. “That’s cool.”

“We monitor the ranch 24/7, and there are living quarters here for thirty of your family and our staff. We have filtered water from the lake and our own septic system. Your dad really did it right. If you were wondering why he wanted you here at the ranch after Paul was taken, this is it.”

“You know about that?”

“We don’t know everything, but what we don’t know generally isn’t important.”

“What else can you do here?”

“You mean in addition to hacking almost anything, including several satellites and government computers? Oh, not much.”

“Where did the money come from for all this? Dad doesn’t have resources like this, does he?”

“You need to ask him about that. But I’ll tell you this, your dad has a lot of very powerful friends, and when they decide to do something, it’s Texas style and it’s never half-assed.”

Tom landed the Bonanza at Puerto Aventura and taxied to a waiting hangar. Once inside with the hangar doors closed, they unloaded the pelican cases and luggage. Pelican cases in one truck, luggage into a rented red Mercedes convertible. Thirty minutes later, they were at the hotel. Tom checked them in while Gabe tried and failed to get the pronunciation of the hotel name to come out right. After all, X isn’t a letter Americans use to begin many words. The hotel was opulent, and their suites were even more so. Travertine floors supported handcrafted, gloss-varnished cedar furniture, which held enough booze and snacks to feed a rock star’s entourage. Bathroom fixtures were gold and the towels and linens suitable for Buckingham Palace. Gabe felt completely out of place. Tom, on the other hand, made a point of downplaying the entire affair.

Tom flirted shamelessly with the girls behind the counters, making several inappropriate suggestions, and left hundred-dollar tips for fifty-cent services. After a $200 dinner—each—they adjourned to the bar, where things got serious. After too many drinks, Tom was approached by a stunning, dark-haired woman, and within ten minutes it was obvious what her intention was. Within twenty minutes the happy couple was headed back to Tom’s suite, arm in arm, with his hand noticeably lower on her backside than was appropriate.

Gabe was left sitting in the bar, drinking his fourth four-ounce, ten-dollar Coke, wondering how this lunatic could be the same man he’d admired and respected back in Texas.

Chapter 16

OUTSIDE THE “LAST RESORT” ON the gravel to Diamond Jack’s paddock in the ATV, Emily was full of questions. “Why does Grandpa need a bomb shelter? Who were all those men? Why were there so many TV monitors?” Her agile mind was overwhelmed with the revelation of the bunker. Unfortunately, Carol had nothing but good guesses for answers, and as she tried to reason out sensible answers, she realized there was nothing sensible about what they had just seen. Her father was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

On the far side of the lake, they came to the aluminum gate. Carol jumped out and opened it, waited for Emily to drive in, and then closed it behind them. They crossed the sanded track to the second gate and repeated the process. In the center of the pasture, three hundred yards long and fifty wide, stood a small open barn with stalls for four. Carol took a small, high-frequency whistle from her pocket and blew twice. Diamond Jack, a twenty-three-year-old, nearly black quarter horse with a white diamond blaze on his forehead, stepped from the shade of the barn, tossed his head proudly, and trotted to Carol with the energy of a colt. Jack made his presence known with a bit of prancing and playful dodging and then planted his muzzle in her stomach with obvious affection.

“Hello, old friend,” Carol said while rubbing his neck. She kissed his forehead. “You’re still the best,” she whispered. “There will never be another as wonderful as you.”

“Just how many shows did you two win, Mom?”

“All of them, honey. Every single one. At least in Texas, and those were the only ones that