“Changing the subject, we need to try to recruit one or two of those doctors. We’ll need to think up something to offer them. I’ll add them to the call list before I call the president. Then I’ll cut the phones.”
“What are you going to say to that douchebag?” Johnny G asked. Roscoe scrunched up his face a moment and then thought of an appropriate response. Johnny G laughed loudly.
Chapter 43 – Thanksgiving at Marcus Hook
Unlike Mount Weather, the people of Marcus Hook had a lavish Thanksgiving feast planned. This was the first Thanksgiving they were not dependent on Mount Weather for food supplies and they wanted to celebrate their quasi-independence.
This Thanksgiving was somber though. Ringo was a likeable man, and everyone considered him a friend. There were the usual whispers from people who liked to play armchair quarterback, but mostly everyone chose to mourn Ringo’s death by getting drunk and high and reminisce about the good times.
During this, Roscoe and Johnny G gathered up the Fitzgeralds and led them to a table in the back, away from the crowd.
“I got an extra space heater under the table to keep our feet warm,” Roscoe said and then held up a large jug of wine. “This’ll keep our bellies warm.”
“I like the sound of that,” Trader Joe said and held out a glass.
Roscoe did the honors and filled everyone’s glass. Riley used the diversion to move her chair closer to Johnny G and subtly placed a hand under the table and down in his nether regions.
“Is this Mount Weather wine?” Trader Joe asked.
“It is. We grabbed a few jugs during our visit,” Roscoe said. “I’d like to make a toast.” He held up his glass. “Here’s to lost friends and to new beginnings.”
“Salut,” Trader Joe said.
The other four joined in and turned up their glasses. Johnny G refilled his and passed the jug around.
“Now that everyone’s thirst is quenched for a few seconds, let’s talk about our future trading post,” Roscoe suggested.
“Yes, let’s do that,” Trader Joe said. “My son and I had a long talk today while travelling to Atlantic City. By the way, everyone there said to tell you two hello and a few of them were inquiring if they could get some more fuel.”
Roscoe acknowledged with a nod. “How are they doing?”
“Not too good. They lost four of their own to a zed attack last week.”
“The cold weather has them hungry,” Little Joe remarked.
Roscoe thought about that as he took a drink of wine.
“They used to have some folks that were good sailors. They were always stocked with fresh seafood,” Johnny G said.
“I don’t believe that is still the case,” Trader Joe said. “They looked pretty pitiful if you ask me.”
“Yeah,” Little Joe agreed.
“Poor diets, poor hygiene. But we can talk more about them later.” The older Joe paused, set his glass down, and pulled out a couple of folded-up pieces of paper from his pocket.
“We have created a contract for you men to look over,” he said. “It is written in double-space so that we may add conditions, if necessary.”
He slid it over to Roscoe, who donned his bifocals and began reading. He read for a minute before looking up and passed the paper over to Johnny G. Riley read it along with him. After a moment, he looked up at Roscoe and gave a slight nod.
“I think this is all doable, but I do have a couple of questions,” Roscoe said.
“Fire away,” Trader Joe replied.
“Item number three states that you want no legal constraints. What exactly do you mean?”
Trader Joe looked to his son, who answered.
“Like we mentioned earlier, we may engage in some forms of business that were once considered illegal,” Trader Joe said.
“We understand,” Roscoe acknowledged. “As long as people, especially children, are not exploited, we are agreeable.”
They discussed several finer points and conditions, and there were several clauses added into the contract. The first jug of wine was soon empty and the second one was being opened.
Roscoe held up a finger. “I think we almost have a complete contract, but there is one final item we need to address and put in here.”
“What’s that, Mister Roscoe?” Riley asked.
“I’m glad you asked, Riley. Because we want this business to have a rock-solid reputation, we must have a manner in which disputes are resolved.”
“What do you suggest?” Little Joe asked.
“I propose an arbitration process for disputes,” Roscoe said.
“I could go along with that,” Trader Joe said. “The arbitrator would need to be a neutral third party though.”
“Yes, they would. I don’t have anyone to suggest currently. Perhaps we could make it an elected position.”
Trader Joe instantly shook his head. “I’d rather it be an appointed position, and in answer to your question, I’d like us to decide who is appointed.”
Roscoe considered what Trader Joe said. “Alright, I would normally ask my friend for an aside to discuss this, but I see no reason not to talk about it while sitting here with you. Transparency will be paramount, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Absolutely,” Trader Joe replied and peered at Johnny G. “Thoughts, Johnny?”
“It can work,” he said. “The outside vendors and traders will be the real problem, but if you can keep them in line, I believe it will work.”
“Are you committed to helping us?” Trader Joe asked.
Johnny G felt a slight squeeze on his thigh from Riley. He glanced over at her. She smiled sweetly.
“I am,” he said.
“Alright, I’m speaking for the Fitzgeralds when I say we are committed as well.”
With that pronouncement, he reached out and slid the contract over to him. Taking out a pen, he signed his name at the bottom. He then slid the contract over to Little Joe, who did the same. Eventually, the contract was signed by each Fitzgerald, Roscoe, and Johnny G. The deal was sealed with another toast.
“Here’s to the future Marcus Hook trading post,” Roscoe proclaimed. Glasses were clinked and everyone drank.
“What’s this you guys are celebrating?”
They looked over to see Irena and Hermione walking toward them. She sat beside Trader Joe and Hermione stood there awkwardly before Little Joe got up and dragged another chair over.
“Have I missed something?” Irena asked.
“We are formalizing terms and conditions for the new trading post,” Trader Joe said with a cheerful smile.
Irena seemed surprised and gave him a puzzled expression. “You’re going through with it?”
“Yes, absolutely. Why wouldn’t we?” Little Joe asked.
Her expression quickly changed to feigned indifference. “Oh, I just thought you guys were going to do it somewhere else. I personally like that it’s going to be built here.” She smiled now and gave Trader Joe a kiss on the cheek. He in turn beamed at her.
Roscoe and Johnny G swapped a subtle glance. Irena then picked up Trader Joe’s glass, took a sip, and grimaced.
“It’s no Mouton Rothschild,” she quipped.
“What’s a Mouton Rothschild?” Riley asked.
“High-end French wine, honey,” Irena said. “I used to date an oil billionaire. We drank nothing but the best.”
“Oh,” Riley said.
Irena waited for Riley to ask for details. Riley instead sipped her wine and smacked her lips in approval.
“I like it,” she said.
Irena scoffed and then turned to Trader Joe. “Are you still going to modify the soccer stadium?”
“Yes, we are. It’ll take some work, but we should have it up and running by springtime.”
Roscoe was now feeling the effects of the wine and grinned broadly. “This is going to be a significant, historic achievement in Marcus Hook history.”
They talked and drank late into the night. At midnight, Johnny G cal
led it quits and stated he was headed to bed. Riley did not bother with subtleties now and left with him arm in arm. The wine had made her more passionate than usual and Johnny G was feeling amorous as well. If Jimbo were to have witnessed them, he would have described their act of lovemaking as going at it like jackrabbits. After, they lay entwined in each other’s arms.
“There is something I need to tell you before I nod off,” Johnny G said.
“What’s that?” Riley asked.
He summarized the meeting with the president and his orders.
“Can he do that?” she asked.
“He thinks he can, but we’re not going to go along with it.” He paused a moment. “The thing is, he was tipped off about our plans of the trading post before anyone else even knew about it.”
“Really?” she asked.
“The only people who knew about it were you, me, Roscoe, your father, your brother, Irena, and Hermione. We didn’t do it, neither did Roscoe, your brother, or your father, and I don’t think Hermione cares one way or another. So, that leaves Irena.”
He felt Riley fidget. “That’s weird. Why would she do that?”
“I’m not sure. There is a rumor that she and Gil had messed around back last year, so they might be closer than any of us know about,” he said.
“I didn’t know that. I bet dad doesn’t know either. So, you and Roscoe are going to ignore his order?”
“Yes, we are, both orders,” he said.
“Wow. What do you think the president will do when he finds out?” she asked.
“I’m not really sure, but here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to break off our association with Mount Weather, and when I say we, I mean Marcus Hook.”
Now Riley turned on her side. “Holy shit, really?”
“Yes, really,” he said.
“Gil is going to be pissed,” she surmised.
“No doubt about it,” he said in agreement.
“Won’t he try to do something?”
“It’s highly probable. Some of them will suggest a diplomatic response. He’ll probably send a message filled with threats and ultimatums, and then order something more direct and forceful, but we’re going to take preemptive measures.”
Riley listened keenly as Johnny G explained the elements of Operation Betrayal.
“The biggest amount of work will be creating the roadblocks. After we get everything in place, we’ll make an announcement to everyone living here. Anyone who disagrees can leave if they want to.”
Riley smiled. “I’m not leaving.”
“Good,” Johnny G said with his own grin.
“My brother and father will stay too. Is there anything we can do to help?”
Johnny G smiled slightly. “If you want, you can help us confirm Irena is the one who told VanAllen about the trading post.”
“Oooh, this sounds like fun,” she said. “What do you want to do?”
“Create some ruse to be with her tomorrow; can you do that?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Good. Right now, there are only a few people who know about Operation Betrayal. Roscoe, me, you, and a couple of others. I’m taking my crew out right after breakfast to block the roads. Roscoe is going to disable the phones. An hour after breakfast, I want you to get her alone and reveal the secret of Operation Betrayal. Tell her everything, especially tell her we are going to disable the phones which will cut off communications with Mount Weather. And then, you’re going to let her in on another little secret.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“If she’s the spy, she is going to want to tell VanAllen everything as soon as possible. That’s when you tell her about the short-wave radio hidden in the closet of my office that is tuned to the Mount Weather frequency and that you can call them anytime you want to.”
“Ah, I see now. If she’s the spy, she’s going to want to use the radio,” she said.
“Yep. Now, as you know, I keep my office secured. You’re going to tell her this, but then you’re going to let her in on another little secret about the spare key I keep in my dresser drawer.”
“There is? Oh, I see where you’re going. I’ll tell her I know about the key and we can use it to get into your office.”
“Yep, exactly.”
Riley gave a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry, she’ll think I’m her best friend before the end of the day.”
“Good. If she’s not the snitch, she won’t care about the radio, and if she is, she’s going to talk you into getting access to it.”
Riley scoffed. “I bet she can’t wait to get on that radio.”
“Good. Make her think you’re being unwittingly duped. If I know her the way I think I do, she’ll insist on doing the talking. You go along, but make sure you remember everything she says.”
“And report it back to you,” she said. “Okay, I can do that. I’ll kill her then if you want me to. Dad will be upset, but he’ll get over it when I tell him why I did it.”
“Let’s not go to that extreme,” he cautioned.
“Why not?”
“She may be a snitch, but it’s nothing extreme enough to kill her over. Besides, we may be able to use it to our advantage and have her unwittingly pass along bogus info to VanAllen.”
“You’re going to mushroom them,” she said, chuckling at her brother’s earlier reference. “So, we’re never going to have anything to do with Mount Weather again?”
“I think things will iron themselves out by the time the trading post is open,” he said.
She snuggled up against him. “If you say so, but if you change your mind and want me to kill her, let me know.”
Chapter 44 – Fred and Nikki Return
Fred would never say it out loud, but when the gate to his driveway came into view, he offered a silent prayer of thanks to the good Lord. He was cold, his legs and hips hurt from the long hours in the saddle, and he was hungry. He glanced over at Nikki. She looked miserable, but to her credit, she had not uttered one word of complaint. She caught his glance.
“We made it,” she said and tried to smile.
Fred did not respond, not even a micro nod. Approaching the gate, he stopped Aisha and swung a leg over. He was so stiff he almost fell when he dismounted. Nikki pretended not to notice. While Fred held onto Aisha, attempting to steady himself, Nikki slowly dismounted from her horse and almost fell too. She looked over to see Fred holding onto a stirrup and stretching. She did the same to work out some of the stiffness.
After a minute, Fred unlocked the gate and swung it open. Nikki led Leeroy through and waited for Fred, who did the same with Aisha. Locking the gate, the two of them awkwardly mounted their respective horses and walked down the long drive to the house. Rachel exited the front door at their approach and ran over to Fred as fast as her pregnant body would allow her.
“Get down off those horses and come inside,” she exclaimed.
She then yelled for Sammy, who came hustling out a moment later, pistol in hand. Seeing Fred and Nikki, he holstered his weapon and jogged over to them.
“Help me get them inside,” she ordered.
“No, take care of the horses,” Fred rasped out.
Sammy looked to Rachel for guidance. She nodded at the horses before grabbing the two of them around the waist and escorting them inside.
“Alright, you two, off with your boots and coats, and go sit. I’ll fix some tea.”
“Water for me, please,” Fred asked.
“Me too,” Nikki echoed.
Rachel nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. She came back a moment later with two glasses of water, went back into the kitchen, and returned with a plate full of sausage and biscuits. Nikki croaked out a ‘thanks Rachel’ while Fred gave her a nod. Rachel responded by running her fingers through his short hair.
After a few minutes of silence, the two of them were feeling much better.
“This is good,” Fred said. “You’re a great cook.”
“Hell ye
ah,” Nikki agreed. “But I’ll be honest. In about ten minutes I’m going to find somewhere warm to sleep for the next ten hours.”
“Yeah, you two definitely need to rest, but tell me what happened first,” Rachel demanded.
Fred spoke between bites and told her everything in short, perfunctory sentences. Nikki added the color commentary by waiting until Fred would pause and then adding detail to whatever Fred said. Rachel watched the two of them talking and realized they made a good team.
Zombie Rules | Book 8 | Who The Hell Is That? Page 25