I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen Lane so... so angry, and yet so restrained.
It was difficult to describe his exact state. Sitting at the head of the table in our church, it was very evident that the rage he was feeling was genuine and palpable. One only needed to look at his bowed head to recognize the fury encased in him.
But unlike before, when he had launched that near-fatal strike against the Saints, he now seemed like he was trying to prevent a slip of the tongue or an emotional reaction that would inevitably result in action and violence.
“Brewskis... that cannot be allowed,” Lane said, trying to keep his voice in control. “It’s one thing if they attack us. We’re known enemies. I get that. But this... this is unacceptable.”
No one else at the table was speaking right now.
“We need to figure out a plan for retaliation,” Lane said, but then he caught himself as if he felt that he had said too much—for it was no given that everyone in the room had our best interests at heart. “We need... when cooler heads prevail, we need to plan something. A slash of a motorcycle tire is just the first step toward something much worse.”
“Agreed,” Axle said.
Heads around the room nodded.
“Patriot, you sure you didn’t see anything?” Lane asked.
“No,” I said. “I could tell you who the two guys were that were in the bar, but other than that, I couldn’t tell you who slashed my tires or how or when. I can only tell you that they left, I walked outside, and my tires were destroyed.”
“So, could just be a coincidence?” Axle asked.
That immediately raised the red flag in my mind. Why would he ask that? And for that matter, why had he been so ready with a tow truck? Maybe that was a “coincidence” as well.
“What do you mean, Axle?” Lane said, the curiosity in his voice quite obvious.
“I want these guys dead as much as you do,” he said. “But we cannot start a needless battle. It will burn the city of Springsville down if we try something so audacious in response to something that turned out to be nothing. And to be frank, I don’t think it was nothing, but we have to gauge our reaction carefully.”
He was right in the sense that it was possible.
But he had been the second member of the Reapers to see the tire slash. He knew that it wasn’t because of a rock. He knew only a knife could have done such a thing.
I couldn’t help but have the highest amount of suspicion raised right now. Axle may have thought he was looking cautious, but to me, it just looked like he had made a critical mistake. Even his hedging at the end had not dissuaded me of my concern.
“I agree with you on one point,” Lane said, trying very hard to sound even-keeled. “We should not make any rash decisions. For now, we will go ahead and put this to the side. But I want everyone in this room to start brainstorming ideas for how we can retaliate come Thursday. We cannot let this slide. Dismissed.”
With the bang of a gavel, the group stood. As usual, I hung back. I tried to watch Axle in my peripheral vision, seeing if he acted any funny way, gave any sort of signal.
Nothing.
But he’d already given plenty enough.
As soon as Father Marcellus, the last remaining officer, left, I stared right at Lane.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he said.
“Yes,” I said. We didn’t need to say it out loud. “But Lane, you have got to be careful. The way that you are acting, the way that you are carrying yourself? That’s the kind of thing that’ll draw suspicion from certain people. That’s the sort of thing that will get you blown before you have the chance to do things your way.”
Lane fell back into his chair, folding his arms. We both would have liked nothing more than to have called out Axle in the middle of the meeting, but we didn’t have enough evidence yet, not even anywhere close. We needed further proof before we slammed such an extreme allegation down. Otherwise, we were both dead.
And while Axle was probably the spy, there was still the possibility that he genuinely wanted to be careful and could have believed it was the act of some rebellious teenager.
“What would you do?” Lane said. “You were in the military. You probably had to conduct attacks in retaliation for different things. What sorts of things would you do?”
The answer was immediate—it was the sort of thing that got drilled into our heads very early on, an attitude that was less attitude and more religious belief.
“Default aggression, man,” I said. “When in doubt, be aggressive. Don’t be stupid, but be aggressive. Take it to the enemy.”
I knew what that phrase meant. At its core, it meant be aggressive not so much in violence but in determining the best course of action. Don’t wait for intel to show up—collect your own. Don’t wait for an opportunity to strike—create one. Don’t wait for the enemy to retaliate—set up a trap for him.
