Roland: Reluctant Paladin

by N. C. Reed

  “Good point,” BD allowed. “Brick hasn’t come back,” he added softly. “We got a few back, all wounded but one. This kid laid an ambush for ‘em, apparently. Brick went on, but since we ain’t heard from him, I’m forced to assume that he ain’t comin’ back.”

  “We did get most of the prisoners back,” he continued. “Over half. Had to shoot a few of them, but you know what they say. No omelet without a few broken eggs.” Manny just nodded. The Boss didn’t wax philosophical often, and when he did it was a bad sign.

  It was also a good idea to listen patiently.

  “We’ll let them get settled. We plan, we watch, and when they’re not expecting it, we strike back. Hard, and permanent.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Things are tense. I was looking through my things and found this stupid journal, and realized I haven’t updated it in a long time. I never seem to finish what I start.

  James is still in ‘surgery’. No one reading this will know why, I guess, but short story, he and I rescued some people, and James got shot protecting them, while I thought I was leading all the bad guys away. Turns out there were more bad guys than we thought.

  There’s a doctor from town who’s patching him up. Seems like a good woman. I might see if she wants to join our group, if she doesn’t have one of her own. Be nice to have a doc around. There’s a nurse, too, that was in the group James led away from the bikers. She’s been a big help. Seems to like James, too. We’ll see, I hope.

  Wilson is talking to the others, getting their story. I really don’t know anything about them except that one man is Mack’s Uncle, Tom. He’s a tough old man, I know that. Good fella to have around, I’d say.

  We could be attacked at any time. We’re a man down, now, and that’s bad. I wish we had just a

  few more guys, but we don’t, so ...we don’t. That’s just how it is.

  Maria and I seem to have reached some kind of understanding. She just out and declares she has feelings for me and floored me. It wasn’t until after she had gone that I remembered Gran Fuller’s statement about the girl with coal black hair. Her description fits Maria to a tee. I still don’t believe it. And even if it is, so what?

  I’m not a good man. I try to be, but ...but I’m not, that’s all. She has to see that, and when she does, she’ll get over this. . .thing, and forget it.

  I hope that we’ll still be friends when that happens. I do enjoy not having to worry about her knifing me in the back-

  Where in the hell did that dog come from...?

  -

  “Whose damn dog is this!” Roland shouted, as the Lab roamed the halls. No one answered, though a few people did come to see what the shouting was about.

  “I haven’t seen a dog,” Terri shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “Me neither,” Deena repeated the motion. “Maybe Ralph found him?”

  “Where is Ralph?” Roland asked. “Why haven’t I seen him today? Or for a while, in fact,” he added, trying to remember the last time he’d seen the kid.

  “He’s probably in his ‘lab’,” Terri rolled her eyes. “He’s set up shop in one of those buildings out back, always running off there, usually carrying something that he hides from everyone else, like he’s a mad scientist or something.”

  “It is a little weird,” Deena agreed, though she didn’t sound quite as condemning.

  “I’m gonna have a look at that,” Roland murmured. “One of you find out where that damn dog came from!”

  “Haven’t seen it,” the two replied in unison, then giggled. Roland looked at them for a second, and then just walked away. The two teens looked at each other, shrugged, and returned to whatever chores they had been doing.

  Roland slipped out back, and took a look around. He hadn’t been out here in several days to amount to anything, since he’d been gone. Nothing seemed out of the...

  Ralph came running out of one of the outbuildings, legs pumping as hard as they would travel.

  “Duck Mister Roland!” he called, and then hit the ground. Seeing that, Roland dropped to the pavement just as the roof of the small building tore apart, smoke billowing from the hole.

  “What in the hell?” Roland got to his feet. “Ralph, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Uh, sorry ‘bout that,” the teenager got to his feet, dusting himself off. He avoided looking Roland in the eye.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Um. . .well, see. . .it’s a surprise. Yeah! That’s it! A surprise!” Ralph’s comments seemed to gain steam as he convinced himself.

  “Well, it worked,” Roland told him flatly. “What, exactly, are you doing?”

  “I’m tryin’ to help,” Ralph sighed. “Might’s well show you, I guess,” he sounded dejected. Waving for Roland to follow, he led him to another shed nearby.

  “Shouldn’t we put out that fire?” Roland asked.

  “Nah, it’ll be okay,” Ralph shook his head. “Ain’t really no fire, no way. Just smoke and whatnot. Ain’t nothin’ in there to burn.”

  “The shed might burn,” Roland replied, voice heavy with sarcasm.

  “Nah,” Ralph repeated. “I always soak the wood with water before I try anything new. Will have to patch that roof, though,” he said seriously. He opened the door to the other shack, and led Roland inside.

  “What is all this?” Roland asked, looking at the various jugs, buckets and barrels scattered around the small building.

  “Bombs,” the boy replied calmly, walking through the maze.

  “Bo. . .what?!” Roland screeched.

  “Relax, they ain’t armed,” Ralph told him. “They’re just mixed is all.”

  “Ralph, tell me, right now, what you’re doing,” Roland said, his patience at an end.

  “Told ya, I’m tryin’ to help,” Ralph answered. “These here is for when the bad guys come.”

  “Wher. . .how, did you learn to do this?” Roland demanded.

  “Oh, my grandpa taught me,” Ralph waved the question away. “We made homemade stuff all the time for beaver dams, stumps, that kinda thing. It’s pretty easy.”

  Roland rubbed a hand down his face, trying to square away ‘it’s pretty easy’ and ‘homemade’ in his mind.

  It didn’t work.

  “What have you done?” he demanded again.

  “They’re fuel oil and ‘monia,” Ralph told him. “See, you take some fertilizer and mix that real careful like with...”

  “I know how to make ANFO!” Roland almost roared. “How do you know how?”

  “Oh, well if I’d known that, I’da asked you to help me,” Ralph grinned. “I never thought about that. As to how, I just told ya. My grandpa taught me.”

  “Good old grandpa,” Roland sighed. “He teach you anything else that. . .my God, what am I saying?” he asked no one. “I’m losing my mind.”

  “Anything what?” Ralph asked.

  “Never mind,” Roland almost shuddered. “This is. . .more than. . .what did you think you were going to do with these?”

  “Well, I’m gonna set ‘em up ‘round the school, cover ‘em with rocks and broken glass, and other odds n’ ends, then when the bad guys get here, and get close to one, I’ll blow ‘em up!” Ralph’s enthusiasm was disturbing.

  Very. Disturbing.

  “What made you think of this?” Roland asked. “And why not tell someone. . .ask, someone, before you started it?”

  “Well, ever’ one was busy, and I really didn’t have that much to do, and I wanted to help, but I ain’t really able to help like James does ‘cause I’m still just a kid, and so I got to thinkin’ how I could help, but then...”

  “Jesus, Ralph, the short version,” Roland begged, rubbing his temples.

  “Oh, well, the only thing I could think of was this, that I knowed how to do. So, I did it.”

  “You sure did,” Roland sighed. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”

  “Oh, it ain’t that bad,” the youngster waved the comment away. �
��Took me a while to get the ratio just right, but she’s perfect, now.”

  “Took you...” Roland stopped. No sense in asking something he might not want to hear, anyway.

  “Well, you know, if you want it stronger, you kinda got to...” Ralph started.

  “No, don’t tell me,” Roland held up a hand, forestalling the explanation. “I may not can take it,” he sighed. “Ralph, you could have been killed, or killed someone else, doing this. It’s incredibly dangerous.”

  “Wasn’t no danger o’ that,” Ralph insisted. “I been doin’ this since I was a kid, I told ya. Long as you’re careful, and don’t get into a hurry, its fine. So anyway, there was a torch in the maintenance shed, and I been usin’ it to cut up them old cars that we pushed away. I used the pieces to make some ugly lookin’ spikes to tape to the outside of the bombs. I figured out I can put the spikes and other shrapnel on the bombs in a two hundred seventy-degree arc, and that gives me a directional mine so to speak. I leave the empty arc aimed in our direction so we don’t get hurt when we set ‘em off.”

  “Now, about settin ‘em off,” Ralph went on. “I stripped the electrical wirin’ from them cars, and spliced that together, but it wasn’t enough. I found a roll of thermostat wire in the janitor’s storage though, and that’s even better, but it still left me short. So when I came across two rolls o’ speaker wire I got to wonderin’ if that would carry enough charge to set things off, so I was runnin’ an experiment with that when ...well, I kinda used more magnesium than I really needed for that, and I had a small charge set up to see if it would ignite, but really it was a little too much, the way I mixed it, and, well, that’s what happened when you was on your way out here,” the boy finished.

  “But it worked!” he started again before Roland could say anything. “So now I got enough wire to lay all the charges but now I got another problem, ‘cause I need to disguise ‘em somehow. I was plannin’ on paintin ‘em, and hidin ‘em as sort of a landscaping kinda thing, only, well, I ain’t got enough paint in the right colors, and I didn’t figure a purple bomb would really hide all that well, so now I got to figure somethin’ else out.”

  Finally, mercifully, he stopped.

  “Where did you get magnesium?” was the safest thing Roland could think of to ask.

  “Oh, them two cars I used had mag wheels,” Ralph replied. “I used a hacksaw to cut ‘em up, and boy wasn’t that a job! and then used a grindin’ wheel to real careful scrape the pieces into dust, and I put that in the bottom of all the containers I used to make the bombs. The electric spark lights the magnesium, and then the magnesium sets off...”

  “I get it,” Roland held up his hand again. “I get it,” he repeated, almost as if trying to convince himself. “Ralph, I...” Roland stopped. He really didn’t know what to say.

  “So, Mister Roland, since you’re here, can you mebbe help me figure a way to hide these things so’s the bad guys won’t see ‘em. I’d like to really surprise ‘em!”

  Roland looked at the teen, fighting to keep a look of incredulity off his face. Ralph apparently realized exactly how dangerous his project was, which no doubt explained his reluctance to allow anyone to see or know what he was doing. And, it seemed, he had done his work well.

  It scared Roland that Ralph had managed to accomplish all this without adult supervision, or without him, Roland, knowing it.

  On the other hand, Ralph had done something that none of the adults had thought of. And in doing so had demonstrated that he knew how serious their situation was and had the intelligence to take on something like this on his own. And get it done.

  Was this the shape of the world to come? he wondered. Kids having to grow up so fast, so violently? Having to do things like this to survive?

  There was no help for it, he decided. He’d seen this in many a third world country. He’d never thought to see it here at home, where things were supposed to be different. But here it was and there was nothing for it. Not anymore.

  “Sure, Ralph,” he managed to smile. “I guess I can help you do that.”

  The joyous look on Ralph’s face made Roland both sad, and happy.

  And he didn’t know which was worse.

  -

  Doctor Kingston stood back from the table, stretching. They were finally finished.

  James had taken three pints of blood. She wasn’t sure that he didn’t need more, but his color had returned, so she had stopped. The only way to give him more would have been to know his blood type. She was grateful, and amazed, that there had been three people in such a small group with O-Negative blood, and all had given him a pint of blood and perhaps a little more.

  It would be enough, she thought. James’ wound hadn’t been that serious. Painful, it would be sore for days, maybe a week. Had he not lost so much blood he would already be limping around.

  The blood loss was much more serious. That kind of loss placed an enormous strain on the body’s system. James was still out, but he wasn’t in a coma and that was an excellent sign. With the physical strain he had been under, and the morphine, his sleep was completely normal. His breathing was normal now and his pulse was strong again. All signs were very good and she was confident that he would be on his feet soon.

  “Ladies, I think we can deem James done,” she smiled. She noted that Melissa looked extremely relieved, but didn’t comment on it. Melissa also looked exhausted.

  “Melissa, time for you to look after yourself for a while,” Kingston ordered. “Get some food, get a shower, and get some rest. Don’t argue,” Kingston cut the other woman’s apparent objection. “You’re at the edge of exhaustion. All you’re going to do is make yourself sick, and this young man will need you to look after him as he heals.”

  Melissa blushed at that and Kingston fought off a smile. She had meant that he would need Melissa’s nursing skills, but. . .whatever made people happy.

  “We can recruit someone to sit with him around the clock,” Angie promised. “I’ll see to it at once, in fact. All of us need a break.” With that she stepped outside, returning with Terri.

  “Hi,” the teen smiled at the older women. “Is James gonna be okay?” she asked.

  “Yes, dear, he is,” Kingston smiled. “But we need to have someone monitoring him until he comes around. Would you mind?”

  “Not at all,” Terri shook her head. “James is a great guy, and he’s risked his life to protect us more than once. He’s. . .well, he’s our big brother,” she grinned. “Always hanging around, standing guard, protecting us. It’ll be nice to do something like that for him for once.”

  “Thank you,” Angie grinned, then turned to Melissa. “Come on,” she ordered. “I’ll show you to the showers, get you some clothes, and find you something to eat. Then you can rest.”

  “All right,” Melissa nodded dully. She realized now, as the adrenaline wore off, that she had about gone her distance.

  “I’ll see about checking over the others,” Kingston informed Angie. “I might as well give everyone at least a brief physical while I’m here. Maybe we can get someone to start collecting medical background, too.”

  “Oh, Deena would be perfect for that!” Terri informed them. “She’s like an organizational genius!”

  “Deena it is, then,” Angie agreed. “I’ll find her while Melissa showers.

  Kingston left the room as the others decided how to proceed. She would check the others, but first she wanted to stretch her limbs, and see some more of this place.

  -

  Jesse woke up groggy. He looked at his watch from habit, and realized he’d slept for almost three hours. He jumped up.

  Or at least he started to. His legs complained so loudly that his ‘jump’ turned into a desperate struggle to gain his feet. Legs that were still very rubbery carried him shakily toward the cafeteria. It was coming on to dusk, so he figured there would be something eat.

  As he staggered toward the mess, a voice behind him spoke.

  “Are you all right?” the
woman’s voice came to him over his shoulder.

  “Fine,” Jesse nodded, without looking. He didn’t recognize the voice, but there were a lot of new people in here today. “Just a little sore.”

  “Do you need any help?” the silky smooth voice asked. Jesse turned, about to tell whoever it was that he was good, thanks, and go away. Politely of course.

  Whatever he would have said died on his lips, however, as he got his first look at Doctor Jennifer Kingston.

  Kingston was tall and athletic with long hair, and beautiful gray-green eyes. Very wonderful eyes, Jesse decided. Kingston’s full lips parted in a smile.

  “I’m Jennifer Kingston,” she held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mister...?”

  “Fuller, ma’am,” Jesse was suddenly on his best behavior. His very best behavior. “Jesse Owens Fuller, at your service,” he said, and lifted her hand to his lips briefly. She blushed at bit at that, but didn’t take her hand back.

  “I’m a doctor,” she told him. “Sheriff Wilson brought me here to see to James, the boy who got shot.”

  “Then I’m in your debt, Doctor,” Jesse said firmly. “And I assure you, James is a man from head to foot. He did a soldier’s work today, all on his own.”

  “I see,” Kingston nodded. “And what happened to you?” she asked.

  “I, uh. . .well, I’m the one who found him, ma’am,” Jesse explained. “I ran with him over my shoulder for a good while, and my legs, they don’t like that very much, so they’re complaining. Loudly.”

  “Better get those stretched out, then,” she advised, smiling again.

  “I intend to, as soon as I’ve eaten,” Jesse smiled in return. “Speaking of which, can I offer you dinner for saving James?” He held out his arm to her.

  “Why not?” she replied, and took his arm. “It’ll give you someone to lean on, at least, won’t it?”

  -

  “We can cover them with grass,” Roland suggested, looking at the various sized jugs.

  “Won’t work,” Ralph shook his head. “Thought about that, but the grass’l die in a few days. What happens they don’t show up soon enough? For that matter, we need to disguise ‘em ‘fore we set ‘em out, case they’re watchin’ us.”