by Glen Tate
Al shrugged again. “Not much would change. We would still have to wait in line for flour and potatoes. Gas would still be scarce, or for sale by the gangs. Crime would be out of control. Small business would be impossible. It would be a lot like things are now, but maybe a little better because we’d be used to it by then.”
Al had a good grasp of the situation. One didn’t need to be politically minded to understand the political effects of things. A person could be like Al and just know that things would suck if the current people stayed in charge. That was about all the politics someone needed to know. Luckily, most Americans had Al’s common sense. But, like Al, they were just shrugging and trying to get through another day. They didn’t have any grand plans about fixing the problem.
“So, Al,” Grant asked, “what happens if the Patriots win?”
“Well,” Al said, “that will take a war, for one thing. That will suck. People will get killed, including lots of Patriots, like you,” Al said with a smile.
Al thought some more and said, “The food will stop flowing, at least from the government, and at least for a while until the Patriots can get things back on track, if they can. That’s an open question. How do you fix this place?”
“Long term, what happens if the Patriots win and fix the place?” Grant asked. He was giving it one more try.
“We get America back,” Al said. “My grandkids have a chance to live in a free and prosperous country, like I did.” Then Al smiled slightly and nodded slowly. Bingo, Grant thought.
“Yeah,” Al said. “We get America back.” Grant decided to try to get a commitment from Al.
“Isn’t that worth fighting for? For your grandkids?” Grant asked.
Al thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess. But it depends on whether I’m fighting on the side that can win. If not, I’m just getting myself killed, for no reason.”
“What would you need to know about the Patriots to know that they are going to win?” Grant asked.
“I’d need to see some victories,” Al said. “I’d need to see the Loyalists crumbling. I think the Loyalists are big talkers and have lots of stuff on paper, but once those Freedom Corps dicks and corrupt cops and scared nineteen-year old soldiers who are in the National Guard just for the free college actually start getting shot at, I wonder if they’ll run. That’s what I need to see: Loyalists crumbling.” Al thought some more.
“Oh, and one other thing that I would need to know,” Al said. “And that’s whether the Patriots can run things better. I don’t want the new guys to suck as bad as the old guys—or maybe suck worse. I hate politicians and I need to know—I need to see with my own eyes—that the Patriots are getting things done and taking care of people.”
Grant couldn’t resist. “You mean like feeding people, schools, a library, postal service, guards, beach patrol, police, court system…”
“… and a newspaper,” Al said with a smile, obviously onto Grant’s mild bragging. “Yep,” Al said, “what you guys are getting done out here tells me that it can be done, but I’d need to see things squared away in the whole country like they are here.”
Grant nodded. He realized that Al was like the majority of Americans. They basically wanted the Patriots to win, understood that it wouldn’t be easy, and would wait to throw in their support until they saw the Loyalists crumbling and that the Patriot way got things done. Speeches wouldn’t persuade them. Winning, feeding people, and acting fairly would. This is why it was so important for the Patriots to lead by example, to do things right, and to not abuse people.
Resist revenge. That’s why you’re here.
That was one of the most powerful messages yet.
That’s it! Grant thought. He was out here not only to help get Pierce Point through the Collapse, but to try to prevent Patriot atrocities against Loyalists.
Yes. I will help.
There was that indescribably calm and confident feeling. Grant couldn’t lose. He had help.
“Al, I might need your assistance, secretly. You OK with that?” Grant asked, suddenly surging with confidence.
“Depends,” Al said. Predictably.
Chapter 180
Dealt a Historic Hand of Responsibility
(July 8)
After talking to Al, Grant spent the rest of the afternoon with the guards. He wanted to know exactly how things were going there. How their spirits were, how organized they were, how well they were armed, how their communications systems worked. He was very impressed. Dan was an amazing leader.
Around 5:00 p.m., a truck came down from the Grange with dinners. Grant helped serve the food and then helped pack up some supplies that needed to go back to the Grange. He hopped a ride back there.
When Grant got to the Grange, he saw Drew, pulled him aside and asked, “Can you get me the home address for Al VanDorn?”
“Sure,” Drew said as he looked at the plat map. He told Grant the address and Grant looked at the map and sketched out a crude map of the surrounding area on a napkin. Drew didn’t even ask why Grant might want Al’s address.
A few minutes later, the Team rolled into the Grange. They’d been training all day at the Richardson House and were tired and hungry, like the day before. After letting them settle in, Grant grabbed Scotty.
“Call made,” Scotty whispered. “Guests coming tonight at dark.”
“Does the Chief know?” Grant asked.
“Way ahead of you,” Scotty said with a smile.
“You know, man,” Grant said, “the girls can’t be over tonight when the guests are there.”
“Oh, I know,” Scotty whispered. “And it sucks. But I’ll do it for my country,” he said with another smile. “Besides, I’m tired. Two days of this training. We’ll be up late tonight with the visitors. I need some sleep tonight.”
“Ha!” Grant said. “Feel my pain. The pain of an old guy. You never thought you’d turn down lovin’ just to sleep, did you?”
“Never,” Scotty said. “Now I know how much it sucks to be one of you old dudes.” In two weeks, Scotty would turn twenty-three.
Grant started to eat dinner with the Team and the Crew. Scotty was telling them that they needed some sleep tonight and that the girls needed to take a night off. Everyone agreed, except Wes.
“C’mon, guys,” Wes protested, “just because you’re tired pieces of shit doesn’t mean I have to suffer.”
Then Scotty mouthed “Ted” to Wes.
“Oh, never mind,” Wes said. “I could use a night off.”
Scotty saw one of the girls serving food in the kitchen. “I’ll break the news to them,” he said as he got up to talk to her.
While Scotty was having his conversation, Grant saw Lisa getting dinner. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” Grant said. “I’m going to eat dinner with my girlfriend.” Grant joined her, as she was sitting down with the other medical people.
“May I join you?” Grant asked Lisa.
“I guess so,” she said with a slight smile. He could tell she was tired.
He asked her about her day, which consisted of a lot of work for the medical team. They were hampered by a lack of medical supplies and the lack of transportation. They couldn’t go out to see people, except in emergencies when it was worth the gas. People had to get patients to them in the clinic, which was hard to do. They had to find a ride or walk. Everyone was realizing how much they had taken transportation for granted before the Collapse.
The Grange meeting was very short, and Rich came into the Grange at the last minute and announced that he had no updates. He asked if anyone had anything that needed discussing. No one raised their hands. “Good night,” he said. People started leaving.
Grant talked to some people for a while, while Mark waited around to take everyone back to Over Road. Drew and Lisa got into the extended cab of Mark’s truck and the Team, including Grant and Chip, got into the bed for the familiar ride home. There wasn’t much chatter on the ride back, as people were tired.
They pulled onto O
ver Road and there was Gideon on guard with his borrowed AK-74. He waved them through, but was looking at each person in the truck to make sure everything was OK. He was an outstanding guard. They were so lucky to have him out there.
Everyone slowly piled into their cabins. The Team was dragging their gear a little bit. Grant really looked forward to seeing Cole and Manda. He missed them. He didn’t know if he would ever adjust to this new schedule that didn’t allow him as much time with his kids as he’d had before the Collapse. He had worked his tail off before the Collapse, but it seemed like he was working even more now, even though he didn’t have a traditional “job.” Now, surviving was his “job.”
When Grant and Lisa opened the door, the kids came running up to them, like they did when they were little. It was heartwarming. Grant and Lisa asked them about what they did that day. They told stories. Ellen described how well Cole was talking recently. They spent the next two hours…being a family. Grant was even home early enough to tuck Cole in.
“Thank you for tucking me, Dad,” Cole said with a great big smile. Grant melted.
“You know, Cole, that I want to tuck you every night,” Grant said. “But sometimes I have to work during tucking time.”
“I know, Dad. You’re keeping us safe,” Cole said.
Grant melted again. He started to tear up. Cole might not be able to talk well, but he knew what was going on.
For those two hours of family time, Grant wasn’t thinking about war, supplies, politics, or medical care. It totally vanished from his mind. It was like he was a different person. Grant was about to say he was like his old self, but he realized that wouldn’t be exactly accurate. He was like his old self in the sense that during family time he wasn’t a judge and organizing a guerilla band, but his old self didn’t appreciate his family as much as his new self. His old self cared more about his career; his new self-appreciated his family. Those two hours with the family were the best of both worlds: his old self having the time to hang out with the family, and his new self-appreciating it.
After tucking in Cole, Grant went downstairs. It was dusk and would be dark in about a half hour. He wanted to see if Lisa was available for…the perfect end to the day. He was too late. She was asleep. Dang. Oh well. She needed the sleep.
Grant sat down on the couch in the living room and, for the first time all day, enjoyed silence. He had been talking to people or listening to them since the early morning. He just soaked in the silence until someone knocked at the door. He unholstered his pistol out of habit, but didn’t point it at the door or put his finger on the trigger; he was fairly sure whoever was at the door was OK because they would have to get past Gideon first. And assassins didn’t usually knock.
Grant got up and, as he was walking toward the door, asked, “Who is it?”
“Chip, man,” Chip said. “You’re needed. No crisis or anything. Just a meeting.”
Oh crap. Back to work. Grant really wanted to go to sleep with his family. For the first time out there at Pierce Point, Grant really wanted everyone to go away. He was feeling tired of the nonstop everything.
As Grant was walking toward the door to leave the cabin, he realized he needed to quit whining about having to go to work. He was about to meet with Ted and Sap and try to convince Rich and Dan to approve the use of Pierce Point as a guerilla training area. This was important stuff.
Grant suddenly felt guilty. He had been playing with his family like a devoted family man while he was hiding from them that he was going to meet with a rebel Special Forces official to plot the overthrow of what was left of the government. He was voluntarily joining a war that he could theoretically sit out. He was risking his life and putting the lives of everyone at Pierce Point in danger, and doing it behind their backs. What kind of father and husband does that? And then acts like nothing is happening?
I do, Grant thought. I’m the kind of father and husband who has been dealt a historic hand of responsibility, and who will play the hand to the best of his ability. As Grant approached the door, he realized that he was repeating in his head the previous struggle to decide whether to join Special Forces Ted’s unit. He had already decided. He didn’t need this loop running in his head. It wasn’t helping him do what he needed to do.
When Grant opened the door, there was no one there. He looked outside and saw Chip walking over to the yellow cabin.
“C’mon, man,” Chip said impatiently. He was nervous about the meeting and wanted it to go well. Chip knew what was at stake.
“It’s not dark yet,” Grant said in a loud whisper so he wouldn’t wake Cole, who was upstairs in the loft. It was dusk, but not dark.
“Rich and Dan are here for a pre-meeting with us,” Chip said.
OK, that was worth getting him for, Grant thought. He walked over to the yellow cabin. On the way over, Gideon nodded at him as he continued to scan for threats. Grant walked into the cabin to see the Team, Rich, and Dan.
“Thanks for coming, gentlemen,” Grant said.
“No problem,” Rich said. “This is kinda important.” Dan nodded. Rich and Dan seemed more relaxed and open to this proposal than they had been when Grant first sprung it on them earlier that morning.
Grant realized that he called this meeting so he needed to get it started. “Well, everyone knows why we’re here. Rich and Dan don’t know Ted like we do,” Grant said, gesturing toward the Team. “And Rich and Dan haven’t had the benefit of already hearing from Ted and Sap like we have.”
“Sap?” Dan asked.
“Oh yeah. He’s Ted’s buck sergeant,” Grant said.
“Here’s our bottom line,” Dan said, looking over at Rich. They had obviously met before hand and had worked out the terms they would ask for. “We don’t want any attention coming to Pierce Point because of this. We don’t want our happy little community to be a military target of the Loyalists. As I told you, Grant, I’ve seen full-scale military weaponry used on fixed targets and I’ve seen what it does to human beings. We have no defenses against rockets, mortars, artillery, helicopters, or, God forbid, air strikes. The Loyalists have this hardware and would use it in a second against a guerilla facility. Then they would probably make sure they got all the guerillas by destroying everything in Pierce Point—civilians and all. That’s how it works in the real world.”
Grant didn’t appreciate that “real world” comment. He thought he was doing a pretty good job of navigating through the “real world” of a collapsed America, but Dan’s opinion was important and Dan deserved respect.
“Understood,” Grant said. “I don’t want that to happen either. Obviously, this plan will only work if we have some assurances that Pierce Point won’t be bombed. That’s what our guests will talk about,” Grant said, hoping they had some answers to Dan’s very valid concerns.
“Our other bottom line,” Rich said, “is that we don’t want our guards or you guys poached by the SF guys. We need to keep some defensive capabilities here.”
“Another valid point,” Grant said. “And it is something Ted can address.” Hopefully, Grant thought. Grant knew that the Team was joining Ted’s unit, but he would let that fact come out later in the conversation.
“While we’re waiting for Ted,” Grant said to Rich and Dan, “we should fill you in on how we know him and why we trust him.” The Team spent the next half hour talking about how they met Ted, how he helped train them at the range, and how devoted Ted had been to Oath Keepers since the beginning. They told Rich and Dan about the briefing they had from Ted on the Free Washington State Guard’s Special Operations Command there in Boston Harbor. Rich and Dan seemed impressed. They had not heard how weak the Loyalists were. The idea of having a semi-open Patriot Special Operations Command so close to Olympia was intriguing to Rich and Dan. It meant the Loyalists were far weaker than they had thought. If the report about Boston Harbor was true, which was a big IF in their minds, they could more easily see how they could win this thing. They trusted Grant, but expected descriptions of
things to be slanted in favor of the Patriots.
“No offense to your friend Ted,” Rich said, “but I’m gonna need to see this with my own eyes. I’m not betting several hundred lives at Pierce Point, including mine, on your friend telling you something.”
“No offense taken,” Grant said, even though he was a little offended. Not really offended, but disappointed that Rich and Dan didn’t just accept his judgment. Grant and the Team had signed on with Ted’s unit without verifying the Boston Harbor situation. Was Rich saying that they were stupid for signing up without verifying things?
Rich was right, Grant realized. Trust but verify. Especially when your life, your family’s lives, and the lives of several hundred neighbors are on the line.
Scotty’s radio crackled. It was the Chief. “Guests arrived.”
Dan looked at the radio and asked, “The Chief knows about this?”
“Yep. They come by boat,” Bobby said.
“Who else knows about Ted?” Rich asked. He was getting concerned.
“Don’t worry,” Grant said, even though he was a little worried, too. “Only the people who have to know so they can make beach landings and meet with us. That means the Chief, Paul, and Gideon, and the people in this room. I haven’t even told my wife. I’ll wait until the last minute before I destroy my marriage,” Grant said very flatly. He wanted everyone to know how committed he was to this.
“I’ll go down and bring them up,” Ryan said, grabbing his AR.
“I’ll join you,” said Bobby. He was tired, but meeting your Special Forces liaison on the beach wasn’t something you got to do every day. The young guys on the Team were a little more star-struck by Ted and Sap than the old guys were. The “Ted project” was a young sheepdog’s dream.
While they were waiting for their guests, the men in the yellow cabin talked about little things at the Grange. Chip talked about how his Grange guards were working out and Grant told Dan how impressed he was with what he saw of the gate guards that day.