by Glen Tate
They had about half of it left, but Grant’s quick calculations were that it wouldn’t last through the whole winter; maybe just about through the winter, but not until spring. Grant searched for solutions.
Drew still had some cash, although almost no one was taking it. Grant had some guns and ammo he wasn’t using (the butter knife guns). They hadn’t been using FCards because, up until this point, they hadn’t needed to. Maybe between the cash, guns, and starting to use FCards, they could stretch their stored food to spring. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully.
Chapter 225
“I Brought Friends”
(Late October)
Guard duty at the Delphi Road exit was becoming more interesting. Outsiders were increasingly coming down Highway 101 and trying to find food and security in the country. There were not waves of human refugees or anything like that. It started out as just a few people coming up to the gate each week, then increased to a few each day, followed by a dozen or so each day. Despite this increase, the vast majority of people in the Olympia area were still staying in their homes and getting their FCard food.
The guards could usually turn back people from the gate simply by telling them to move on. A few times, they had to show force by chambering a round from a shotgun, which was a universally understood sound. One guard would keep his shotgun unchambered so he could rack it when necessary to persuade people.
One time, however, this did not work. A group of five rowdy, and probably high, young men and two women arrived at the gate right after dark in a van. They taunted the guards. One of the rowdy men pulled out a pistol and started running toward the guards. They cut him to pieces. It was loud and violent. He was hit so many times it was impossible to identify him when they were done. His friends ran back to their van and sped off.
Most of the guards who fired the deadly shots hated doing it, though a couple of them really enjoyed it. It was understandable why the guards, who were normal people during peacetime, had turned into people who enjoyed shooting bad guys. The guards spent the day thinking about all the dirt bags out there who were trying to steal their stuff and hurt their families. They wanted to take out the “zombies,” which was what they had started calling the people coming up to the gate.
The guards who enjoyed shooting the man were rotated off the front line. The leaders of the Delphi Road guards didn’t need people starting a firefight just because they enjoyed killing people.
The other guards, the ones who reluctantly killed the “zombie,” were not exactly pacifists. They realized that it had to be done. There was no way they were going to let just anyone come into their relatively safe and well-fed community.
The night after the shooting, Brian Jenkins, one of the WAB POIs hiding out at Prosser Farm, was waking up in the dark RV he was sleeping in with some other guards. It was the last day of his week-long guard stint. He had been sleeping when the shooting happened. He was glad he didn’t have to kill anyone.
In a few hours, Brian could go back home to the Prosser Farm and be with his family. He was surprised by how quickly the farm felt like home to him. The former lobbyist got his boots on and grabbed his rifle.
Suddenly, the alert went off. People were scrambling around and yelling. Someone was at the gate. “Vehicle! Vehicle!” Brian instantly wondered whether this was the van coming back to avenge the death of their friend.
He flew out of the RV and took up his position. He fell down because he was trying to run in the dark. He was lucky he didn’t hurt himself. The stinging on the palm of his left hand where he hit the ground added to the adrenaline of the situation. He was worried he wouldn’t be able to hold up his rifle and do what might be necessary.
Brian had never killed anyone. Every time the alert went off, he wondered if that would be the day he would have to kill someone … or be killed himself. It was an unusual thought for a former white-collar guy like him.
Everyone scrambled to their positions. Brian could see some headlights flashing on and off until they went off completely and just the yellow running lights were on. The vehicle was idling. Brian wondered if the vehicle was getting ready to ram the gate.
There was a silent standoff for about a minute; a very long minute. The guards stood there and watched the vehicle idling with its running lights on and then the bushes started rustling. They all knew who it was.
Some of the pickets—the forward sentries who were hidden in front of the gate—came back. “It’s a van,” they said.
The guard commander, Ned Ford, yelled to the guards, “The van ain’t even trying to sneak up on us. Could be a diversion.” Ned had been an infantryman in Vietnam and had vivid memories of ambushes and tricks that got people killed. He was determined that nothing like that would happen here on Delphi Road.
The headlights flashed again and the passenger door opened. It was drizzling and dark so it was hard to see anything. A person with his hands up was walking very slowly toward the gate.
They shined their big light on the van and saw the outline of the person. The bright light not only allowed them to see but, as an added bonus, blinded the driver so he couldn’t ram the gate.
The person got closer. About twenty yards from the gate, the person yelled. It was a woman, not a man as they originally thought in the dark. “It’s Carly. I’m here for Ben.”
Ned had been expecting this. A young woman named Carly had come to the gate back in the summer and Ben, one of the guys staying at the Prosser Farm, said to let her in if she came back. It was important. That’s all he would say.
Ned had a hunch that Ben was a wanted Patriot and that his covert visitors were doing something important. Ned would do anything he could to help the Patriots, after what had happened to his daughter.
“Proceed,” Ned yelled. “But the van stays put.”
Carly nodded. She motioned to the driver to stay parked and kept walking slowly with her hands up. Way up. She was nervous.
Brian came up to Ned. After Carly first arrived, Ben told Brian, Tom, and Jeff about why she came. Ben and Laura had decided that he would go with Carly to a new hideout where he could be the interim governor when the time was right. The plan was that the WAB guy who was on guard duty during any given week would greet Carly and then go get Ben. It was Brian who was on duty this week. Ben was packed up and ready to go on a moment’s notice.
“I got this,” Brian said and Ned nodded. Brian surprised himself with how calm and confident he was.
“Carly, it’s Brian,” he said. Carly nodded and kept walking slowly with her hands up. It was hard for her to see with the light shining almost directly in her face.
She got about five yards from the gate. Brian slung his rifle, a 30-30, and walked up to her.
There was enough light to see her. She had lost weight and looked fantastic. Brian was so glad to see one of his favorite WAB staffers safe and sound.
“Welcome, Carly!” He said as he hugged her. Brian had honestly expected all the other WAB people who didn’t make it out to the Prosser Farm to be dead or in jail by now. Seeing her was a sign of hope that they might get through this.
“Awesome to see you, Brian,” Carly replied. She was very excited, but still very nervous about all of the guns pointed at her.
Brian motioned for the light to be turned away from them. Carly got her composure and said, “Let’s go off where we can talk privately.” When they were far enough away from the other guards, she looked like she was going to ask someone to marry her.
“So?” she said with great anticipation.
“So?” Brian asked. “What?”
“Ben,” she said. “Is he going to do the new job?”
“Oh, yeah,” Brian said. “He’s in.”
Carly jumped up and down. She was part political genius, part guerrilla fighter, and part excited twenty year-old girl.
“Awesome!” she finally said after she stopped jumping up and down. She suddenly got very serious.
“Okay,” she said. “Here’s the pla
n.” She pulled Brian closer and whispered. “The original plan was to take Ben and his family to a safe place with all of us. But,” Carly looked ashamed of herself, “I kinda told a few people at the Think Farm where you guys were. I’m so sorry!”
Brian felt his face get hot. Right after they came out to the Prosser Farm in May, Brian was terrified of the authorities finding them. Now, almost six months later, he realized that the Loyalists didn’t have the resources to hunt them down. Besides, he trusted Carly, and he trusted John Trappford’s organization, which was now being called the “Think Farm.” Her admission didn’t make him as mad as he thought it would.
“That’s okay,” Brian said. He would rather she hadn’t told anyone, but Carly probably had a good reason for doing so. Let’s hope so, he thought.
“I told them,” Carly said, “because the Think Farm might not be as safe as your place. We have a couple dozen people there and we have some concerns that the Limas know we’re there.”
“Limas?” Brian asked. Was she talking about beans?
“Loyalists,” she said. “Or ‘Legitimates’ or whatever they call themselves. You know, the phonetic alphabet? L is Lima. The Ls? You know. ‘Lima’ a military term for the Loyalists.”
Brian and the rest of the WAB people had been largely cut off from the outside world. They didn’t know updated things, like the term “Lima.”
“So …” Carly paused, “I told them about your setup at the Prosser Farm. I described it and the guards here. They agreed that Ben and his family would be safer at the Prosser Farm than moving them to our place, which might be compromised. And, you know, not putting all the eggs in one basket. We want to spread out our people.”
That made sense to Brian. He had to trust Carly. Besides, he had thought numerous times, the odds were that they’d get caught at some point. He was ready to die if he had to. He wasn’t ready for his family to die, but he had resigned himself to the fact that he probably would.
Carly pointed to the van. “I brought friends.” She smiled, but it was a nervous smile, like she was hoping for Brian’s approval.
Now Brian was getting nervous. Carly had told people where they were hiding and now “brought friends”?
“Carly,” Brian started. He was going to say “I don’t think this is a good idea,” but she cut him off.
“They’re former EPU,” Carly said.
“They’re all former EPU, I should say,” she continued. “They left the State Patrol when things got too corrupt for them.”
Brian still wasn’t convinced this was a good idea. He started to say so, but Carly cut him off again.
“They’re led by Russ’s dad!” she gushed. She paused for his reaction and then jumped up and down.
“Russ Finehoff?” Brian asked. Russ was a good guy and a fellow conservative or libertarian, or whatever the hell the Patriots were. Brian recalled that Russ’s dad was in the State Patrol and was in the EPU. Russ would always tell stories from what his dad saw. Stories about rampant corruption, including extravagant and disgusting parties with drugs, prostitutes, and anything else the partygoers wanted. Well, Brian had to admit, maybe Russ’s dad was OK.
“Who else is in the van?” Brian asked.
“Former EPU troopers handpicked by Russ’s dad,” Carly said with excitement. She was very proud of how they had put together this plan. It had taken weeks of preparation.
“Who are they?” Brian asked.
“Well, there’s Jerry Schafer, Mike Turner, and Christina Espinoza,” Carly said. “And Russ’s dad, Brad. All solid. All Patriots. All experienced EPU. They want to guard the new Governor—Ben!” Carly started to jump up and down again.
Seeing Carly jump up and down, Brian wondered whether she and her slightly immature enthusiasm was being used by the Loyalists to find the WAB families and kill them. This would be the way to do it. Have a team of assassins drive right to the Prosser Farm in a van.
Brian realized he couldn’t make this decision—which could get them all killed—on behalf of the WAB families. This decision affected all the families, so he needed to consult with them.
“I’m sure they’re fine, Carly,” Brian said, which wasn’t how he really felt. “But I need to talk to Ben.” He almost said Tom, too, but he didn’t want to let on that Tom was at the farm in case Carly was being used by the Loyalists. “And,” Brian continued, “We need to decide if we want to let several well-armed strangers, who happen to be former high-ranking government employees, come to our hide out.”
When Brian put it that way, Carly realized that it was kind of unrealistic to think Brian would just welcome the van load of agents to drive right up to where his family was hiding out.
“Okay,” she said, feeling deflated. This great plan they worked up might be failing. She wanted Ben to be the governor. She wanted to be out at the Prosser Farm with all her WAB friends. She wanted to be in on the history they would be making out there. For the next hundred years, school kids would learn about the first governor of Free Washington hiding out on a farm with a small group of brave advisors and guards. Carly would be part of that story. She would be part of history.
“I’ll go back and talk to Ben and the others,” Brian said. “You guys need to hang tight for a while; an hour or two.”
Carly nodded. She was devastated. This plan wasn’t working.
“If this plan makes sense for our families, we’ll do it, okay?” Brian said to Carly. He didn’t want her to be so sad, but he didn’t want his family to get slaughtered, either.
“I’ll go back to the van,” Carly said, hanging her head low.
Brian nodded. He motioned for her to come back to the area where the rest of the guards were.
“Hey, Ned, our guest here is going back to the van and they’re going to hang out for a while. I need a ride back home to talk to some people.”
Ned nodded and arranged for a little car that didn’t use much gas to take Brian back to the Prosser Farm. When Brian arrived, everyone was asleep. He nonchalantly got Ben, Tom, and Jeff into a room and told them about Carly and her “friends.”
“It’s risky,” Jeff said. His family would also be killed if the EPU agents happened to be assassins, so he had a big stake in this decision. Not to mention, he’d have to feed and house the agents.
“But, so is hiding out here,” Jeff admitted. “I mean, we’re about ten miles from Olympia. We’re not bulletproof out here. We could probably use the expertise of the agents in defending this place.” Jeff was also thinking that if the Patriots—assuming the van load of people were Patriots—thought this was important enough to send the van then it must be important. Jeff wanted to help the cause.
“I dunno,” Tom said. He wasn’t a very trusting type. He saw all the risks. He had always thought that Carly was a little immature, despite being a great intern. He could easily see her being tricked by the Loyalists. “I’d rather not have anyone out here.”
“But they already know where we are,” Brian said. “Carly told them. Probably not our exact location, but this van drove up to the Delphi Road exit. They could easily find out that a former WAB staffer owns a farm out here. They can get us any time they want.” Plus, Brian didn’t say, the Loyalists probably had a few operational drones with missiles. They still had a few operational helicopters, too, so the Loyalists didn’t even need to drive up to the gate to attack the Prosser Farm.
The realization that the Loyalists could attack them any time they wanted was sobering, especially to Tom who thought they might be more anonymous out there than they really were. “If the people in the van are trying to kill us, they’ll have a tracking device on them. So even if we killed them at the gate,” Brian said, not believing that he had just said that, “they’ll easily send a bigger team to come and get us.” The room was silent. They couldn’t believe they were actually having this conversation.
“Then again,” Brian said, “I find it hard to believe that with all the shit the Loyalists in our state have to deal w
ith now, like feeding a couple million people who are about to revolt, they’d take the time to recruit Carly, set up an elaborate ruse using Russ Finehoff’s dad, and then send four agents on a mission to kill a bunch of women and children.”
Brian wanted to say, “C’mon, guys. Let’s not flatter ourselves. We’re just some trade association staffers who the politicians don’t like.” But he didn’t. Because he knew they were more than that. Rebel Radio, now being distributed by copied CDs, was fueling the resistance. They knew that from all the graffiti Dennis reported seeing when he went into town.
It was silent for a while as the men thought over this very important decision. Ben left the room and came back with Laura. He told her what was going on. They had already talked and jointly decided that Ben would agree to be the interim governor.
“I need to quit just thinking about myself and my family,” Ben said. He looked right at Laura and said, “Sorry, hon, but it’s true.”
She nodded. She knew he was right.
“It’s bigger than just us now,” Ben said. “It’s a real chance to fix this state. To stop all of this.” Ben looked very serious and then said to Laura, “Hon, we’ve been looking for a sign that we’re supposed to do something.”
Laura nodded in agreement.
“Do you think this is the sign?” Ben asked, already knowing the answer. She nodded again.
“We’re in,” Ben said as he looked up toward Tom, Brian, and Jeff. “Life is full of risks right now,” he said. “But the one risk I’m not willing to take is sitting around and missing out on putting this state back together. And, for some weird reason, that means me being the interim governor. Let’s do it.”
Tom nodded slowly. And reluctantly.
Jeff simply said, “Yep.”
Brian gave a thumbs up. He wanted to talk to his wife about this, but realized that domestic tranquility could not have a veto over an important security decision like this. He’d just have to deal with the domestic consequences, if any.
“I’ll be back,” Brian said, doing his best attempt at an Arnold Schwarzenegger impression from Terminator. He was trying to relieve the serious mood. It didn’t work. As Brian left, everyone was quiet, like they were waiting to see if they would die in the next hour or two. It was a fair question.