by Steven Smith
Tom nodded his head and gave a small smile. "Stuck in the office again.”
He looked at Christian and Mike. “You guys better bring me back something nice."
Jim chuckled. "What do you want them to find out?"
"The normal stuff," said Tom. "Numbers, weapons, supplies, leadership quality and cohesion, demographics, indications of any internal conflict, communication or alliances with other groups, whether they have any Murphy's stout."
He looked at Mike. "Information from the travelers could be very important. If they've come across half of the country, they should have an idea about what's out there as far as organized groups, river crossings and any shreds of remaining or reconstituting governments."
"How far is it from here to South Carolina?" asked Bill.
"About twelve hundred miles," Mike answered.
"This could be one of the first steps to reuniting the country," said Jim.
"And maybe even starting to reconstruct it," said Bill.
Christian looked at Jim. "Is that the road we really want to go down?"
Jim took a sip of his bourbon. "Well, that's probably what's going to happen, regardless of what we may want. If it were up to me, I might just keep going along the way it is, but people aren't like that. People want to be with people, and that means constant expansion and interaction, both for business and personal reasons. The best we can do is to be involved at the beginning so that we see what's happening as it happens and try to have some influence on the decisions being made."
"Do you think it will go back to what it was before, as far as the form of government?" asked Bill.
Jim considered that. "I think some will want it to and some won't. The original intent of having individual sovereign states was a good one. The people of each state could decide for themselves what laws and form of government they wanted to live under, and if somebody didn't like where they were, they could move to another state or even beyond the authority of any state. The evolution of federalism pretty much destroyed that."
"That's true," nodded Bill. "The concept of having a number of governmental laboratories by which differing models and policies could be tried and tested was pretty much swamped by a continuously growing federal government and its central planning. The system of taxation and federal laws that directly applied to individual citizens instead of interstate relationships eventually made individual states and their governmental structures all but unnecessary. Local representative government remained in only the most inconsequential matters, and the people were removed from having their intended and rightful influence on a government that was supposed to serve them."
He paused. "Sorry, the professor in me came out for a minute."
Jim shook his head. "Don't be sorry. You're exactly right. And it's something we need to keep in mind as things progress."
Jim looked at Mike. "This is probably one of the most important things for us to know - how things are developing across the country. Whatever the travelers can tell us will be valuable. If you make the trip back home, you'll be able to see it and make a determination for yourself."
He paused, looking at his leader of scouts. "And if you decide not to come back, I hope you'll find a way to get some information back to us. I'd appreciate it."
The group was silent, the implication of what Jim had said hitting home with each of them. Finally, Christian spoke.
"We'll leave in the morning."
22
The morning was filled with excitement. The send-off for each major scout expedition was an event, but this one seemed special in some way, possibly because it was into the city that most had felt was little more than a wasteland. The previous probe had indicated differently, and this one would determine exactly how different the truth was than their presumption of before.
Five full scout teams were going on this one, accompanied by a box truck containing a gift to the city group and a tractor-trailer for possible salvage opportunities that would meet up with them outside the contact gate. Since the roads were known to be clear, all scouts rode on motorcycles or in pickup trucks in order to make the best time.
"It almost seems like a party," said Bill as he walked up to where Jim was watching the convoy form up.
Jim nodded. "The excitement of the unknown." He looked over at Bill. "Is Tracy going on this one?"
"Yep. Every time she goes out, I wish she wouldn't." He shrugged. "But she loves it."
Jim smiled. "Mike says she's one of the best. He told Christian he doesn't know what he'd do without her."
Bill nodded slowly. "That's what I'm afraid of."
"What do you mean?"
"In case he decides to make the trip back home and decides to stay."
Jim thought for a minute. "Yeah, I'd hate to lose him. I'm sure she'd miss him. They've gotten pretty close, haven't they?"
Bill looked at him. "You don't know?"
"Know what?"
Bill smiled. "They're getting married. I'm going to be a grandpa."
Jim pushed his hat up and shook his head, looking toward the lead truck where Mike and Tracy were just getting in.
"Nope," he smiled. "I always seem to be the last to know."
"You'd look cute in a cowboy hat," said Tracy, studying Mike’s profile as he drove.
He looked over at her. "You think so?"
"I know so," she said, her eyes twinkling. “You should get one.”
He shook his head. "I don't know. I've always been more of a cap kind of guy."
They had left the compound and made it to the highway heading north within twenty minutes. Now, the convoy had reached speed and was headed into the city.
"Maybe I'll get you one. Would you wear it?"
He looked at her and her eyes captured him as always. "I don't know that I could say no, but I think I'd look stupid."
"Does Jim look stupid?"
"No, but he's a cowboy kind of guy."
"Does Christian look stupid?"
He shrugged. "No, but he's kind of like Jim."
"Did the Rangers look stupid? Or Sheriff Freelove?"
He shook his head.
"They looked kind of cool, didn't they?"
He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess. I just can't see me wearing one."
She turned back to look out the front, putting her feet up on the dashboard and smiling. "I'm going to get you one."
Mike smiled as he looked out the windshield and settled into the drive. Tracy had been a fireball since the first day he had met her on the side of the road with her parents, and although the harsh realities of the past year had brought out her strength and intelligence, it had done nothing to dampen her mischievous spirit. It was a different personality than what he was used to in women, but he liked it.
The day was mild and the roads were clear as they retraced the route Alex and the other scouts had taken on the previous probe, and they soon found themselves slowing down to stop at the church on Ward Parkway the scouts had stopped at before making their final approach to the park.
Seeing Christian and Alex get out of the pickup in front if them, they got out of their vehicle and walked up to where Alex was spreading a street map on the hood.
Alex traced his finger along a section of the map. "The park is right up here. We went on backstreets before, but since we don't want to sneak up on them, we can just go up the parkway to 55th Street and go straight over."
Christian looked at the map, then at Mike. "We'll leave four teams here with the semi. We don't want to look like an invading force, and they can secure the church in case we need a fallback position."
Mike nodded. "You want me to stay here or go with you?"
Christian thought for a moment. "I’d like you there, but stay here for now. If things go sideways for some reason, I want you leading the cavalry in to help. If we find that everything's okay, I'll send for you."
Mike nodded again and gave the signal for the team leaders to form on him.
Christian turned to Alex. "Put up t
he flag and get the music ready."
Alex folded the map and stuck it in the glove box, then stepped up into the bed of the pickup and picked up a green, white and orange flag on a pole. Securing it with wire and duct tape to fly above the back of the cab, he tested it to make sure it was stable and jumped back down out of the bed.
"All set."
Christian looked over to where the backup teams were pulling into the church parking lot and entering the building to secure it.
"We'll have to leave the big rig on the parkway," said Mike, walking back toward him after giving directions to the team leaders. "If we pull it onto a side street, it'll be tough getting it out and turned around in a hurry if we need to."
Christian nodded. "We'll head on up. Give us two hours to get an all-clear back to you. If you don't hear from us, come get us."
"Will do. Good luck."
Christian and Alex got back into the truck and pulled into the center lane heading north, followed by two other pickups carrying the rest of the team.
"Ready for some music?" Christian asked, inserting a CD into a portable player and placing a magnetic speaker on the roof.
"What kind of music?"
"Irish rebel music," Christian replied, looking at the CD case. "The Wolfe Tones. The first one is called The Soldier's Song."
"Where did you get that?"
"Jim. He has quite a selection."
Alex looked over at him. "He has some kind of different interests, doesn't he?"
Christian laughed and shook his head. "You have no idea."
It took them less than two minutes before they saw the blue Chevelle parked across 55th Street to the right of the parkway. Alex slowed down and looked at Christian. "Weird, huh?"
They came to a stop about fifty feet from the Chevelle and watched as one man walked toward them with his hand up while a second man covered them with a rifle from behind the car.
"I don't remember his name," said Alex, nodding toward the man approaching them, "but he seemed like a good guy. Fireman, I think."
The man came around the driver's side and looked in. "Hey, Alex, right?"
Alex lifted his hand in greeting and nodded. "How ya doin'? A couple of my bosses wanted to come up and meet you."
He smiled and hooked his left thumb up at the flag flying over the cab. "The big boss thought the flag and the music might keep you from shooting us first and asking questions later."
The man laughed. "Well, it worked. Do you know what song that is you're playing?"
Alex shook his head. "Nope. Jim just told us to play it."
The man laughed again. "Tom's not going to believe this."
He lowered his head and looked across at Christian. "Who've you got with you?"
Alex nodded his head toward Christian. "This is our second boss, Christian Bell."
The man nodded at Christian. "Mr. Bell."
Christian nodded back. "Christian is fine. Alex tells me you all have quite a set-up here."
The man shrugged. "We do what we can. Would you mind waiting here while I send word back to Tom that you're here?"
Christian nodded. "No problem. It's not raining on us and nobody's shooting at us, so we're fine."
The man laughed again. "Good deal. It won't be long."
They only had to wait a short time before a red Studebaker pickup came from the direction of the park and stopped next to the Chevelle. Three men got out and talked with the first sentry, who then walked over to Christian.
"Tom said to bring you all in," said the man, "but he'd like the truck to stay here."
Christian looked at the truck, then back at the man. "Well, it's kind of a gift Jim sent to you all. Not the truck, but what's in it."
The man looked at the truck. "What's in it?"
Christian smiled. "You might want to look for yourself."
The man looked at Christian warily, then motioned for one of the other men to join him and walked to the back of the truck. Unlatching the door, he rolled it up and looked inside.
"Holy, moly," he said, seeing what was in the truck.
He looked at the other man, who nodded, then rolled the door shut and re-latched it.
"Alright," he said, smiling at Christian. "I don't think Tom will mind that coming in."
He cocked his head to the side. "Follow us."
They followed the Chevelle east toward the park, the Studebaker and its occupants remaining at the sentry point, drove around the park and soon entered a semi-circular drive off of Wornall Road that had served as the main entrance to the park. A group of men waited for them on the steps of a long, pillared concrete pavilion.
The Chevelle pulled to the curb in front of the pavilion and they pulled in behind it, shutting off their engines.
Getting out of the pickup, they followed their guide up the steps to the group of men.
As they reached the top of the steps, a man stepped forward and held out his hand to Alex.
"Alex, we didn't expect to see you again so soon."
"Hi, Tom," said Alex, taking the extended hand and nodding at Christian. "This is our number two, Christian Bell. Christian, this is Tom Mahoney."
Mahoney held his hand out to Christian. "Good to meet you. Alex has told us a bit about you all."
Christian took the hand. "Alex told us about you, too. Said you had a good set up." He looked around. "I see he was right."
Mahoney shrugged. "We're making it so far. Finally got things settled down a bit."
He looked at the truck, then at the sentry who had led them in.
"We checked the truck, Tom," said the sentry, smiling. "It's okay. It's something they've brought for us."
Mahoney looked at the sentry. "Not a wooden horse full of Greeks, I hope."
The sentry chuckled. "Not hardly."
"Jim wanted us to bring it to you," said Christian.
Mahoney looked at Christian closely, then at the sentry. He nodded. "Well, let's take a look."
They walked around to the back of the truck, where Alex unlatched the door. Christian noticed that Mahoney stayed off to the side with his hand close to the pistol on his belt.
Alex rolled the door up to reveal the Indian motorcycle mounted in the middle of the cargo box, held firmly in place by ratchet straps.
Mahoney stared in surprise for a moment, then looked at Christian. "You're bringing this to us?"
Christian nodded. "Alex's team found it in a garage when they were up here and brought it back. Jim said to bring it back to you since it was in your area."
Mahoney looked back at the motorcycle, shaking his head and smiling. "Well, I’ll be darned."
"That was good," said Christian, setting the fork on his plate and pushing his chair back a couple of inches.
After unloading the Indian, they had completed introductions between the groups, sent back for Mike and Tracy, then Mahoney had taken them on a tour of the park before lunch.
"Better than good," said Mike. "I'll be back."
Cindy Mahoney laughed as she got up from the table. "You've got a standing invitation. You come whenever you like, and don't wait for my husband to ask."
Mike smiled. "Okay, I won't."
Christian looked at Mahoney. "How did you all make it here? It must have been bad."
Mahoney looked at his plate for a minute, then nodded his head slowly. He looked around for wandering children before he spoke.
"It was. Worse than bad. There was a lot of dying and a lot of killing. We were able to come together here and make it through." He paused. "Most of us anyway. Not all of us."
"We had always assumed that the city would implode, and the people here would try to make it out to the country," said Mike.
Mahoney shrugged. "It did. It imploded and exploded. Like nothing you could imagine."
He paused again, trying to find the right words. He had never tried to explain it before to someone who hadn't been there. Finally, he just shook his head.
"There's no explaining what happened. It's be
yond explaining. People died, killed each other and killed themselves. The nights were filled with screaming for the first couple of months, then replaced by fires."
He looked into the distance, remembering. "It was hell. Just hell. That's all."
Christian waited a few seconds in case Mahoney continued, and when he didn't, asked, "How were you all able to make it?"
Mahoney took a drink from a large F.O.P. mug. "We knew each other. A lot of us grew up together or belonged to the same organizations or churches. A lot of us were cops or firefighters. We knew the city and where everything was, so we went and got what we needed and established a stronghold here."
"Did you have much trouble?" Mike asked.
Mahoney looked at a large man sitting next to him starting on his third sandwich. The man wore a sleeveless black t-shirt that revealed massive arms and matching Celtic cross tattoos on each shoulder and upper arm. A scroll on the right one read Shaughnessy; the one on the left, O'Brien.
"Had a bit," said the man around the large bite he had just taken, "But we've been taking care of trouble in this town for a hundred years. This time, we took care of it our way and it'll stay taken care of."
Mahoney smiled. "Danny is our chief of security. He has a good team that got things under control around here pretty quick and kept the worst stuff at bay until the worst stuff was gone. Things have been quiet for a while."
Are there any other groups in the city that you know of?" asked Christian.
Mahoney nodded. "The city to the east of us is run by a guy they call Force. He's an ex-con some of the guys knew before he went away, but he's done a good job taking care of his territory and his people. He controls everything east of Troost, which is a street, up to the river. He has that area in better shape than it was before the crash, so we have no problem with him. We do a little trading with him and think of him as our eastern security.”
"One guy runs that area?" asked Christian.
"He's a very effective guy," said Danny. "He made rules and enforced them. There are a lot fewer people over there than there were before, and the ones who are there obey the rules."
"How about outside the city?" asked Mike.