Avalon- The Construction

by L. Michael Rusin

  Those who participated in the fair were very conscious about cleaning and packing up at the end of the event. They had a good thing going, and no one wanted to see it come to an end. The unwritten rule dictated:

  “If you make the mess, you clean-up the mess.”

  At work or play people adopted the new manner of living and enjoying life. There was no TV, no movies and only the occasional radio. People made their own entertainment. They erected a small stage at the fair and lit it up with lanterns. After the small booths closed, some performed in plays and short skits during the evening.

  In homes, people once again gathered around board games. One gentleman made them from old cardboard boxes and India ink, drawing and coloring by hand. Chess and checkers were popular, and tournaments flourished. The people worked hard and played equally as hard. Baseball was very popular and so was touch football. Someone suggested a rodeo and it quickly became popular as well.

  ◆◆◆

  The governor was lost in his thoughts. Contemplating all that happened and how quickly the people had adapted to their new manner of living, he realized that, in many ways, it was better than before the war. Back then, people didn’t have time for each other and now they seemed to look forward to each new gathering. Every time something new was scheduled, the participation was staggering.

  At all of these events, alcoholic beverages were strictly banned. If you were caught by one of the roaming Rangers, your privileges to attend any other event was suspended. It made for a better environment all around. No fights, no bravado events, just fun.

  Marcy, the love of his life, came into his office.

  “Whatcha thinking about, Governor? Things could be a lot worse.”

  He looked into her blue eyes and thought about the first time she had come to his office asking for a job. He fell in love with her immediately. They walked down the aisle a year later, and she looked beautiful in her gown. He wore his only suit, a dark blue one. He bought it in San Francisco all those years ago when he attended a law enforcement conference. It was a little tight, but he wore it anyway.

  He didn’t need a lot of clothes these days; he considered his sheriff’s uniform adequate. He was the County Sheriff twenty-four hours a day, so why have a lot of clothing that he would never use or wear? Now that he was the governor, he wondered, what does the governor wear? Well, he was told he could wear both hats, so for the time being, he would be the sheriff.

  He looked at her lovingly.

  “I was thinking about you, my love.”

  ◆◆◆

  At Gold Nugget, Slasher was listening to a report from one of his men,

  “Yes, it’s true. They set up a bartering system and they’re in the process of developing a new system of money. They published and posted a list of the value of things. Labor, chickens, pigs, horses and so forth. But I hear they’re coming up with something new all the time. We’ll just have to wait and see what will be.”

  “Whatever it is, we’ll just have to counterfeit it, won’t we?”

  “They’re talking about the death penalty for counterfeiting, Slasher. I’d walk slowly on that one. Remember, those farmers warned us, we won’t be getting any more chances.”

  Slasher leaped to his feet and screamed at the man.

  “Don’t ever come in here again and tell me what to do! We will do what I say we will do. Now get the hell outta here!”

  The man turned and scurried out the door. He jumped on his motorcycle and made his way out of town, heading east towards Fitch. He wasn’t about to stretch a rope for Slasher, or anyone else. No sir, he wasn’t going to be part of that game. As a carpenter, he could make cabinets and furniture, build a house from scratch, or any number of things; and that was exactly what he was going to be doing from now on. To hell with the bikers.

  A life of crime wasn’t in his cup of tea, anyway. These people could turn on their own at the drop of a hat. He saw it, especially when Bone Breaker was alive and running things. He wanted more stability in his life. Maybe he can find a woman and have a couple of kids and build his own home for them.

  Yes, indeed. That was what he wanted. The wind blasted him in the face as he rolled on the power. He felt as if he couldn’t get away from Slasher, Gold Nugget, and the rest of it, fast enough.

  Next stop for him was his and his yet to be life mate.

  He liked that little town.

  As he sailed past the watch tower, the town of Fitch was notified.

  After arriving in Fitch, he was set up in an old cabinet shop near the end of town and started working immediately. Most of the wood he sawed was all by hand; labor intensive but a labor much appreciated by those who needed his expertise. Two weeks into the job he was one of the first recipients of the initial fifty-thousand-dollar loans. He was elated. He immediately began remodeling and renovating an apartment for himself and hopefully a nice woman later on.

  Chapter 28

  Den of thieves

  Slasher was pleased. Shops were being set up, and craftsmen were coming to work. A surprising assortment of different occupations were beginning to bloom like a field full of flowers after a spring rain. There were metal smiths, carpenters, mechanics, and much more.

  They simply hung up shingles or some other identification to let people know they were open for business and what they could do for them. There was no rent to pay because the original owners of the space were dead. At least, that’s what everyone believed.

  A new owner would soon come forward, however. The city owned the land and all properties, and they made that information known quickly. The mayor was head custodian of all that was in Gold Nugget. He and his men were preparing to cash in on the harvest.

  Shop owners were told they needed a business license issued by the mayor’s office. There was no charge for this official permission to be in business; not yet. They would soon pay through the nose, but the plan was to let them become established before assessing an outlandish fee in the city of Gold Nugget.

  Needed raw materials were at a premium and had to be scrounged. Items such as old cars and trucks were needed for spare parts to get the better vehicles up and running. It became a common sight to see a team of horses pulling an old car toward Gold Nugget. Animal fat was necessary for candle making, and oil had to be found to keep lanterns lit after dark. Working without electricity was a challenge for everyone.

  The streets were dark at night and other than a few fires that were lit in fifty-five-gallon barrels along some of the streets, darkness prevailed. It was easy to melt into the darkness for some. Life was becoming difficult for the tenants and residents of the small town. After a couple of weeks, some more of the residents stole into the darkness of night and disappeared.

  Initially, people were excited about having jobs and something to occupy their time. The word was out that if people didn’t work or contribute in a positive way toward the betterment of the town, penalties would be levied. Most of these bikers and drifters scoffed, but when food became scarce, it was apparent that some of them wouldn’t be eating regularly. The more affluent among them like Slasher and his people ate like pigs.

  Some traded among each other, but there wasn’t much worth trading these days. Prostitution became a thriving business and in a matter of weeks, several strains of venereal disease spread like a prairie grass fire. It was an epidemic that few had experienced; even in the slaving days.

  In desperation, many of the bikers formed small gangs and left Gold Nugget on their bikes to strike out for greener pastures, taking their women and the few children with them. They ventured out for easier pickings and to get away from the dictatorial reign of Slasher and his boys. Those who remained maintained their gardens and kept a few pigs and chickens on the small plots of land they simply moved onto and squatted on.

  The biker gangs were lazy, and for most practical reasons, preferred not to work, but to live by their wits and by guile.

  Raids became the new threat to a few small homesteads in outly
ing areas where people had believed they were safe once again and therefore did not remain as diligent as they once were. They were taken down effortlessly by the renegades. Word reached Fitch.

  ◆◆◆

  As Mike and the governor began to hear stories about biker gangs swooping down on people and either killing them or simply taking all of their food and belongings, it became apparent something had to be done about it. Some of those who lost their possessions drifted into Fitch. That was okay in the beginning, but Fitch didn’t have the capacity to find work or provide food for the numbers of people who were finding their way there. The population of the town was just about at maximum. It wasn’t that they didn’t have room; they didn’t have the food to feed them. They were just getting back on their feet with the growing themselves. It was still months away before being able to support so many new people was going to be possible.

  The key leaders decided the Militia needed to be activated at full capacity. They contacted all of the men and women in the two areas of Fitch and Avalon. They had been training to come to Fitch. The word was spread by a series of gyro-copter trips with the scattering of leaflets.

  Once the word went out, they came from small towns in the south and over toward Bishop. Men came on horseback, and each had, at a minimum, one sidearm and a .223 rifle. The initial group numbered a hundred men with a hundred-fifty horses. Some of the applicants led a horse or two with them as they came into the town.

  “I think we should be able to contain these renegade bikers with these resources. What do you think, Governor?”

  “Humph! I knew it was a mistake to let them off with no more than a warning. Now we have to finish what we should’ve done right from the start when we had them in our grasp.”

  “We had to give them enough rope to hang themselves.”

  Mike replied evenly.

  “And now that they’ve done that, they will put their own necks in the nooses. That said, my reports say these gangs are not directly associated with those at Gold Nugget. Mr. Cobb has been very adept at appearing to keep his name clean, though I have my suspicions.”

  The governor was angry. He didn’t like having to jump through all these hoops because of a handful of miscreants. His experience in law enforcement had jaded him about criminals and the criminal mindset. He believed that a criminal thought process was constant, “It was a lot easier to steal than to work.” His idea of justice was not difficult to understand. Catch them, give them a fair trial, and then hang them from the nearest tree!

  “Mike, we have to put a stop to these people, and we need to be ruthless about it. In the old days when a posse came across cattle rustlers, they simply hung them shortly after they were caught. I see no reason why we shouldn’t go back to that concept. It worked then, and it will work now.”

  Vigilante justice wasn’t going to be the game plan if Mike had anything to say about it. And he was going to have his say…

  “Look, Bob, you’re going to have to start acting like either a governor or a sheriff. You cannot talk out one side of your mouth one minute and then the other the next. Make up your mind. Which will it be? Are you, the sheriff or head of the state?”

  He paused, he didn’t wait for an answer.

  “You have to set the example for the rest of the people. If we allow our people to act like criminals who carry the weight of the law behind them, I see nothing but trouble brewing.”

  Mike was irritated, and it showed in the tone of his voice and his body language. He wasn’t the kind of man anyone would want to get angry.

  Bob Waters recognized the look.

  “I’m sorry, Mike. Of course, you’re right…again. We can’t have people riding out of here hanging people without a trial. I stand corrected. What would you suggest?”

  Mike looked at his friend and realized he had hurt his feelings. He spoke in a softer tone.

  “Sheriff, Governor, we need to get our armed men out there and put a stop to this business of people preying on others. I suggest we make sure they can’t get away with it any longer. We may not stop all of it, but we sure as hell can put a stop to most of it.”

  Bob Waters knew his friend was right.

  “Mike, there’s a lot of territory out there. When do you want to start?”

  Mike’s fists tightened into a ball. He slammed a fist into the palm of the other hand.

  “We know where it’s coming from. I suggest we focus our patrols around and near Gold Nugget. Since we need to trust those men, we’re sending out to police the area, we have to put honest men in charge. Men who are level-headed and can think logically. We need men like Randy Stewart, and a few others just like him.

  The governor nodded.

  “We’ll get some good men out there. How soon do you think you can get them organized and sent out to where they can start getting results?”

  “In another two or three days.”

  “Let’s get at it, Mike.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Men, and women, you have an important job to take care of,”

  Mike stood before the hundred or so men and thirty or so women who gathered here.

  “We need to make our area safe for our people. Everyone should be able to come and go without fear. Right now, there’s a group of scum out there killing and robbing again. It will be your job to bring those killers and thieves in to Fitch to face a jury or to deliver old time justice on the spot.

  “What I mean by that is this, if they are caught in the act red-handed, then string them up to the nearest tree.

  “We have to take a hard stand, people. We cannot abide by what is happening to the poor hapless people out there simply trying to survive. If we catch them in the act, they’ve convicted themselves to hell. We don’t have the luxury of a prison, all we have is the sheriff’s jail here at Fitch. We also don’t have an abundance of food to feed a bunch of worthless derelicts.”

  Mike stood there and waited for his words to have an impact. It was hot. The weather was becoming unseasonably warm for the end of May and flies were being pesky. The tails of the horses swished at the bothersome insects. Occasionally a horse would stomp a foot. Mike stared at these men with pride. They were all trained, and some were fully trained police officers, but these men and women had gone through the Militia training and they were going to put their lives on the line to protect their fellow citizens. He respected that.

  “I do not advocate vigilante justice. Weigh your options before acting. Once a man has been hanged, we can’t bring him back, so make damn sure you’re right before you do anything. However, do not hesitate to do your duty. We don’t have prisons as you all know, we don’t have people to watch over thugs once there arrested.

  “In some cases, hanging will be justified, but let’s not be judge, jury, and executioner without a fair trial if we can help it. That will be conducted among you. Your captain will make the final decision. I also suggest that anyone under the age of eighteen not be hanged. You have my utmost respect for making the effort to protect the rest of us. You are a living wall that will defend every man, woman, and child in the area, so please, be careful. We don’t want to lose any of you to these bandits, but we will put a stop to these raids.”

  Mike saw a look of determination on the faces of these brave men and women. They were tackling a job that wasn’t going to be easy. He suspected there were several pockets of these marauders operating independently of one another. He didn’t think they were smart enough to have organized in light of the beating they were given by Fitch and Avalon. If they could just stop a few of them, the rest would probably stop or move out of the area.

  “You’ll be split into four groups of twenty-five men and women. Each group will carry enough food and water for about ten days. You’ll then return, and another group will replace you. As other groups are formed and outfitted, they’ll also take up positions patrolling the areas surrounding Fitch.

  “Avalon will, as always, depend on its own resources and people for protection. The
men in charge of your Company’s have the authority to make decisions for the group. Follow their orders. Use common sense in all that you do and don’t take any unnecessary risk. You will all have radios, so stay in constant contact with Fitch. Remember, ten days out and ten days home. Stop this mess.”

  The men and some of the women separated into their groups of twenty-five and rode off to their designated areas.

  “That’s an impressive sight, Mike. I can’t remember the last time I felt as proud of anything as I do those men and women.”

  “Yes, Governor we’re about to make a change to our culture and I think it’s going to be a positive and substantial change.”

  Chapter 29

  The Patrols

  Randy Stewart was designated as Commanding Officer of the entire Militia. His group had been out for several days, and much like the others, had a wagon pulled by two horses that carried food, water, cooking utensils, bedding, tents for the men and women, and feed and grain for the horses.

  A .30 caliber machine gun was mounted on a tripod and several cases of ammunition were loaded on board. There were several cases of .223- and 9-mm cartridges, as well. A pickup truck carried extras and was designated as a “sprint vehicle” to be used if they absolutely had to get someone or something to places unknown quickly.

  Caroline ensured that each group had a complete medicine chest, and enough bandages and medicine to treat most serious wounds. Each group also was attended by a fully trained medic. They would never be more than a week’s travel from Fitch. In a pinch, such as a gravely wounded person, they could dispatch either Caroline or Roger out to the group quicker or send the wounded person back by way of the “sprint” pickup. In a dire emergency there was the main highway to be used as an airstrip and an airplane would arrive.