Minutes passed that felt like hours as Owen, his sister, Pastor Joe, and the farmhands battled the fire in the front yard. What had started as three small explosions was now one big raging blaze. The arcs of water from the garden hoses were barely making a dent in the flames.
Jensen and Kenny briefly disappeared and returned with a pile of shovels. They frantically started digging a trench between the fire and the farmhouse. Pastor Joe ran and grabbed one of the shovels.
Owen hurriedly handed off his hose to Jen and joined them, picking up the last shovel and slamming it into the ground. While he dug, he prayed for their collective safety—and if things got worse, for Halle to know when it was time to abandon ship and make a run for it with the boys.
Sirens blared in the distance and grew closer. A fire engine roared up the driveway, spraying gravel. Men leaped from the truck, hauling hoses and heavy rakes toward the fire.
An ambulance and a patrol car wailed onto the scene, lights flashing. The combined efforts of the first responders soon had the fire under control. They extended the trench to contain it. Not long after that, the flames ran out of grass and brush to fuel them. Here and there, small sections continued to smolder, and residual tendrils of smoke rose from them, but the danger was past.
It was a close call. If the firetruck had taken any longer to get there, it was doubtful the farmhouse would’ve remained unscathed. The damage amounted to about an acre of scorched ground. The grass would grow back. If it didn’t, Owen could sow new seed or lay fresh sod. Neither would break the budget.
He texted a quick update to his higher-ups at Lonestar Security. Then he took a knee to give thanks. The Lord had been merciful to him, his family, and his farm staff.
When he lifted his head, Rex was standing there. “The sheriff would like to have a word with you.”
Owen stood and let out a weary breath as he faced Luke Hawling. The sheriff was pale, which might have something to do with the burn scars disfiguring one side of his face. No doubt the smoke and carnage around them were triggering unpleasant memories. A few years ago, he’d nearly been burnt alive in his living room. From what Owen understood, the arsonist had never been caught, and the case had grown cold.
The arsonists who’d attacked Garrett Farm were also at large, but Owen had no intention of letting the case grow cold. He shook Luke’s hand, knowing unfinished business like that would forever haunt the man. He could see it in the young sheriff’s eyes.
To his credit, Luke made no reference to his past trauma as he surveyed the blackened yard and strewn remnants ofthe feathered army of robots. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Owen lifted his filthy hat to run a hand through his hair. His front yard looked like a scene from a dystopian movie. “Where to even begin?”
“At the beginning.” Luke watched his deputies scurrying around the scene, bagging the downed mechanical chickens. “I’ll admit I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“That makes two of us, Sheriff.” Owen described how the chickens had descended on Garrett Farm before the wedding ceremony, and the volley of bullets that had followed. “It’s a miracle we’re alive.” He pointed upward.
“Amen to that, brother.” The sheriff took notes, then plied Pastor Joe, Rex, Jen, and Jensen with the same questions about the bizarre ambush. Afterward, Luke and Rex briefed the federal liaison on the case about the incident. It was not yet clear what the Feds’ next move would be.
Owen, who’d stayed close enough to eavesdrop on their teleconference, was beyond ready to see them make some arrests.
“You alright, sir?” A paramedic jogged up to him with a bottle of water.
“Thanks.” Owen glared in the direction of Aspen Farm. Would anyone be held accountable for crashing his wedding and trying to burn Garrett Farm to the ground? “I’m just tired of being kept in the dark.” The effort it took to string so many words together with a dry throat made him convulse in a coughing fit. When he caught his breath, he uncapped the bottle of water and downed it.
The paramedic took the empty bottle from him and replaced it with a full one. He lingered to take Owen’s vitals and perform a quick medical examination.
“I’m fine.” Owen finally escaped the guy’s clutches and returned to Luke Hawling’s side.
The sheriff was on his phone again, speaking excitedly. When he disconnected the line, he caught Owen’s eye. “One thing’s for sure. This will be a one-of-a-kind story for the grandkids someday.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.” Owen glanced toward the house, surprised Halle hadn’t yet reappeared with the boys. There was no way she’d missed the sirens and mayhem taking place in the front yard. Then again, the twins might be too traumatized to return outdoors just yet. He needed to check on them.
As he pivoted toward the porch, he stumbled over another one of the robotic chickens. He gave it a vicious kick. “I hate to admit it, Sheriff, but I didn’t even notice we were dealing with fake chickens until they attacked us.”
“Being distracted on your wedding day is understandable.” The sheriff used the toe of his boot to nudge one of the metallic remnants strewn like shrapnel around them. “Not sure I would call these fake.”
“What would you call them?” Owen was too mentally exhausted to get into a spitting match over terminology. What he needed was to lay eyes on his family and make sure they were okay.
“Military-grade weaponry.” His supervisor’s voice wafted his way, stopping Owen in his tracks.
He spun around and found Rock Hefner limping up to him, leaning heavily on his cane. His bum knee was a souvenir from his Army days.
“Please tell me you’re kidding!” Owen’s gut tightened at Rock’s expression. He wasn’t kidding.
“I wish I were.” Rock used his cane to point at thenearest downed robot. “If there’s a bright side to any of this, we finally have the proof we’ve been waiting for.”
Unfortunately, much of it had been destroyed. Owen glanced over at the sheriff for confirmation. “Does that mean…?”
