She looked in the first one and saw a hayloft that stored boxes and equipment. It was too dim inside to tell what the equipment was or read the boxes. There was no hay, grain, or anything for animals.
She scurried to the next rust hole and got a parallax view inside the barn. She could see some of the ground floor, which was brightly lit with fluorescent fixtures. She went to the next rust hole and got a sharply-angled view of the front of its ground floor.
The barn door was open wide, and men were carrying boxes out. She counted five of them. She didn’t see Novak among them, but a few of the men had on ballcaps and he could’ve been one. She couldn’t see anything else. She had to get closer.
She walked farther, turned the corner, flattening herself against the side wall. The men couldn’t see her because the side wall was situated beyond its center door. Still, her heart was leaping out of her chest.
She crept down the hillside, feeling her way along the wall in the darkness. She ran her fingers along its side, flaking with rust. She could hear the men’s voices inside the barn but couldn’t make out what they were saying. She kept going a quarter of the way down the wall, then a half, then three-quarters. There was a large rust hole, and she put her eye to it, shocked at the sight.
The ground floor looked like a huge office. Rows and rows of laptops and 3D printers sat on folding tables. There were scores of workstations and chairs, empty now, each with its own bin of black plastic pieces. Chunks of black plastic overflowed wastebaskets. Wires plugged into surge protectors snaked across the floor. Boxes and trash lay everywhere. A large table with a bank of laptops stood at the head of the room, with bins of plastic guns.
My God.Julia realized that she was looking at a gun factory. This must be where they’d made the ghost guns. She’d discovered a massive illegal gun-manufacturing operation.
Horrified, she watched as men picked up boxes from the barn, carried them to the truck, and loaded them. The boxes had to contain guns, and the men were taking them somewhere for delivery or even for use. The five men must’ve been involved in printing ghost guns, but they couldn’t have been everyone who did. There were dozens of workstations in the barn.
Julia’s mind raced. She formulated a plan. She could hear the men talking but she had to know what they were saying. Once she found out, she could get back to the car and find a phone to call 911.
She told herself to wait until they were finished loading the truck. They had to go at some point, and then it would be safe to get back to her car. She couldn’t leave now because it was too dangerous. Even opening her car door would make the light go on and draw their attention.
She wished she knew what they were saying. She needed to get closer. She flattened herself against the wall and made her way down the hill, running her fingers along the wall. She got as far as she dared, almost all the way to the front. She could hear the voices. She didn’t need to look inside because the action was outside.
One of the men hopped in the U-Haul and drove it a short distance away from the barn. Its head and taillights cast light around the men, who were grouping around a pile of wood, debris, and junk that the truck had hidden from view. The lights switched off when the truck parked, plunging the area into darkness.
One of the men shouted, “Okay, light it up, Pat!”
Pat.Julia realized Patrick Novak had on a backward-baseball cap, facing her on the far side of the pile. He bent over and lit the wood. The men hooted, hollered, and cheered, then started passing out beers.
Flame began to flicker in the pile, and one of the men poured gasoline on the fire. Others threw wood and cardboard from boxes. The bonfire burst into a conflagration, its orange and red streaks sending off tendrils of smoke into the night.
Julia couldn’t leave her hiding place yet. The blaze illuminated the hillside next to the barn. The men were in constant motion, drinking, cheering, and partying. She’d have to wait until their celebration was over.
Finally the men began to settle down, their laughter and hootingsubsiding. Julia thought the party was over, but the men began to assemble near the bonfire, forming a line in front of a bald man holding a cardboard box.
Julia scrutinized the man’s profile. It looked familiar, then she recognized him, with a shock. It wasMcKenna. She flashed on the photo she’d seen of him with Novak and Shoemaker, then the online headshot from his realty business. He was older and bald, but it was definitely him.
McKenna faced the men like a commander directing his troops. “Men, this is it! What we’ve been planning for, for so long! It’s almost dawn! Today, we strike!”
“Hell, yes!” “We’re in!” the men cheered, their black silhouettes frightening against the fiery orange of the conflagration.
“For far too long, we watched the corruption of the powers that be take our hard-earned tax dollars and line their pockets! The government is run by the billionaires and the corporate class that suck the blood out of your body and the bodies of your wives and children! You hear me, men?”
“Yes!” “We do!” “We’re sick of it!” “It’s payback time!”
“We watched politicians turn this country into a whorehouse. Any government not of the people, by the people, and for the people is rotten to the core. We can’t take it anymore. We won’t stand by while rich scum destroy what’s rightfully ours, this great country of ours. It’s about to end, am I right? We willendthem!”
“Yes, yes!” It’s over!” “Time’s up, fuckers!” “White men, fight back! White men, fight back!”
“Men, who’s country is this?”
“Ourcountry!”
“I can’t hear you!” McKenna bellowed. “Whose country?”
“Ourcountry!” the men responded, shouting louder.
“Yes,ourcountry! Men, we’re the tip of the spear, a new, nativist movement blazing a path, leading the way! Now’s the time to lay down our calling card. To make known our presence and ourwill. Today’s the beginning. Today we accept the mission! Our movement is the Two-Fifty Brigade! Two-Fifty! USA!”
“Two-Fifty! USA! Two-Fifty! USA!” The men cheered.