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by David C. Waldron


  “He did an incredibly brave thing tonight. I have an idea what his motivation was, but I won’t go into that. I also plan on reading him the riot act and you will all probably hear me scream at him sometime tomorrow until I lose my voice, because it was also reckless, dangerous, irresponsible, completely unplanned, and borderline stupid.” Chuck flinched at each adjective she threw at him, but stood there and took it because she was right.

  “However, none of those things take away from the fact that it was brave, and Sheri is back, and I really couldn’t be happier.” Mallory’s eyes were shining now as she stuck out her hand.

  Chuck went to shake it and was startled to be pulled into a hug, and the applause started up all over again. “If you ever do anything like that again,” Mallory whispered through a smile into his ear, “I will start by letting Ramirez and KB come up with something appropriate to do with you when I find you.” Apparently she’d shut the microphone off before she’d said that. Chuck shuddered.

  “Yes, First Sergeant, I mean, no, First Sergeant, I mean, it won’t happen again. Promise. I have something to stick around for now.”

  “Outstanding, Mr. Turner, I’m glad to hear that.” Mallory looked over at Sheri and winked. Sheri was all smiles. I sure hope that lasts and I’m guessing that smile means he got there in time. Good deal.

  The third key the MPs tried worked and the handcuffs came off, and Sheri found herself doing what every newly un-handcuffed person did in every movie ever made, rubbing her wrist, even though it didn’t hurt. It was just, what …instinct? Verify that you were free, check to see that the weight wasn’t there anymore? See that the irritant was in fact gone? She didn’t know, and as soon as she realized she was doing it she immediately dropped her hands to her sides.

  “If you two would come with me, I still have an operation to plan. Although it no longer needs to go off by tomorrow morning, I’d still like it to. And since both of you have at least been there, I’d like to have you two included in at least the initial planning stages.”

  Making their way back to the command portion of the base was by no means quick, with all the well wishers and residual crowd, but it wasn’t as slow as the first few steps away from the truck had been.

  Evidently Mallory had distributed a brief statement to be passed on by the “block moms” about the incident, and it was sinking in that Pete was dead and not just ‘not going to be a problem anymore’. They even encountered a few whoops and ‘yee-haw’s’ on their way back to the command tent. Chuck sincerely hoped that was more a case of pent up frustration and nerves than anything else. He knew that he, while relieved, certainly didn’t feel giddy about the situation.

  The usual suspects were already in attendance when they arrived, and in the relative quiet of the tent, he realized that Mallory and Sheri had been carrying on a conversation most of, if not the whole way back. “I’m gonna have to keep an eye on that,” he thought to himself. “The last thing I need is Sheri getting advice on how to keep me in line from Mallory.”

  “Jackson, Halstead, who’s going in?” Mallory asked.

  Jackson replied first, “First Platoon, First and Third Infantry Squads will be covering the east approach to the town. They’ll be going in heavy so they can either be using AM or Satellite. We have no recon at this time, so we have no idea what to expect as far as resistance or capabilities in the town.”

  “Second Platoon, Second and Third Infantry Squads on the western approach to the town will be supported by Fourth Platoon, First Communications and Third Medic Squads split evenly between the east and west ends of town,” Halstead had the next group. “Like Jackson said, we don’t have any recon yet, and while Sheri and Chuck where only there for a short time, and Chuck was only there after dark, we’ll take anything they can give us that will help prior to committing anything.”

  “All right then, I’d like to begin with you, Sheri, if you’re ok with that?” Mallory asked. At a nod from Sheri she continued. “If you could start with everything you remember about the town, including layout, number of occupied buildings, number of people, anything that you can remember could be useful.”

  Sheri told them everything she could remember about the drive into town, descriptions of people and buildings, numbers of people, and anything she could remember that Pete had told her. The fact that there were some technically-savvy people there, but that they didn’t seem to be in charge was interesting.

  When she was done, Chuck went through the same process, filling in any blanks that he could, although he hadn’t been doing nearly as good a job cataloging information as Sheri had. She just seemed to be a natural at this. “I did notice that although there were supposed to be a number of homes with power, only four of them had lights on when I came into the town and when we left. I don’t know what that means, if anything, but knowing what I do now about how many have power, I just found it interesting.

  “I also didn’t encounter anyone outside, which I was grateful for at the time, but it seems more than a little odd now that I think about it. I’m pretty sure I remember seeing a couple of curtains move, but I didn’t see anyone outside--nobody. No one challenged me getting into the town; we were able to get Sheri’s stuff out of the Mustang without incident. Nobody even yelled after the gunshot,” Chuck grimaced a little when he said that. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was starting to come to grips with the fact that he’d shot Pete. He had a sneaking suspicion he was going to be violently, noisily sick in the very near future.

  Sheri grabbed Chuck’s hand and stepped into what could have become an awkward silence, “I mentioned it to Pete, but at the time I thought I was just trying to piss him off to leave me alone. The three guys that were nominally in charge, or at least that were in the group that came to meet with Keeler and I, didn’t act like they were happy to have Pete around. They certainly didn’t act deferential to him--not in front of me. I’m not surprised that they didn’t come to his defense or make any effort to stop us.”

  “Ok then, we aren’t going in with guns blazing, but now that Pete’s out of the picture, we need to talk to these people. I’ve got a couple of suggestions…”

  …

  After about thirty minutes of discussion, it was obvious that Chuck and Sheri didn’t have anything more to offer, and Mallory called for a break. “Sheri, have you had anything to eat? I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before, but do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m good. Pete actually brought back the ruck’s from the Humvee and I had a #5. The adrenaline is wearing off though.”

  “I think we’re good then. If either of you thinks of anything else that you feel would be helpful, let us know though, k?”

  “Roger that,” Chuck said with a small smile.

  They both got up and walked out of the tent, and by mutual assent took each other’s hands as they left.

  The first awkward moment came as they were approaching the more-or-less civilian side of the base where both Sheri and Chuck had their tents. They were still holding hands while they walked, Chuck on the left, Sheri on the right, and they each proceeded to walk in those directions towards their own tents when the time came, each assuming the other was coming with them. Neither of them, however, let go.

  They didn’t actually get to the point where their arms were sticking straight out before they looked at each other, but it was obvious that they were headed in two opposite directions. Sheri was the first to blush, but not by much, and then they were both giggling, and then they were chuckling, and pretty soon they were sitting on the ground laughing, all without saying a word.

  After a couple of minutes it was Chuck who asked the question that both of them had had written all over their faces while they blushed. “So, um, ma’am,” just not eloquently, “I absolutely didn’t mean to presume anything, not at all, really, but um…”

  He was saved from terminal embarrassment by Sheri launching herself from her sitting position at him and bowling him over. “Your place is fine
, big guy,” kiss, “although I really am tired,” kiss, “and this is all so sudden,” kiss, “and that’s all you’re getting tonight,” kiss “Now let’s go get some of my stuff.”

  Interlude Four

  Societies, communities, and civilizations are different things, and people post-event were finding that they weren’t necessarily complimentary sides of the same three-sided coin. Not every group of people who’d had the presence of mind to get out of town early had an ethical leader in charge of their group. Not every town that had been sufficiently removed from a population center had been sufficiently prepared to provide for itself long term. Not everyone who had a plan to keep civilization intact had a society or community with which to surround themselves, and not every society that remained had civilization at its core.

  What remained of the U.S. Government, for example: the President, Vice-President, Cabinet, fifty-seven Senators and one-hundred and fifty-three Representatives from the House, had a plan to keep civilization intact. They had a society that numbered less than 2,500 people, however. Without a much tighter command and control network and the ability to communicate with more than just a handful of military entities, there was no hope of implementing the plan on the books. They did have a society, though, and it did have almost 2,500 people. Those people were currently located at an Air Force base, and they were doing as well as anyone could expect to be doing under the circumstances, they just weren’t running the country anymore.

  There were other societies and communities now, too--some not more than one-hundred miles away from where the President currently called home. Many wouldn’t have been at all opposed to what the former U.S. Government would have proposed had they been able to hear it, but they couldn’t, and so they went their own way. One group of less than three-hundred people, just up the road, would continue to farm on their land, milk their cows, gather the eggs from the chickens, and slaughter the pigs. Simply put, they would continue on as they had been for the last couple of generations, if a little slower now that it was all done by hand.

  Of course there were other groups, calling them a society really would be going too far, who were nothing more than roving bands of modern-day marauders and land pirates. Their only concern with civilization was that it seemed to have come to an end. If they happened to encounter it they would take advantage of it as long as it lasted, feast on the corpse until even that was gone, and then move on again. They couldn’t really be said to be anarchists as many of them didn’t even know what anarchy was. They were just hooligans who’d finally gotten a free rein.

  There were the rare groups, however--true communities—which, regardless of their size or location, were determined to maintain civilization. They were few and far between but they did exist. In Massachusetts, a group that came to be called the Freemen finally proved they weren’t all wacko’s and established law and order in an area that encompassed almost 4,900 square miles and had towns begging to be brought into the “Freemen Coalition”. In San Antonio, Texas, using the Alamo as the center of operations, a group calling themselves the New Texas Rangers kept a rough circle sixty miles wide peaceful, orderly, and civilized. The Freemen did it with 1,800 people; the Rangers started with only two-hundred and eighty-five.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Just as the sun was peering over the horizon, fourteen fully loaded, combat ready Army vehicles came roaring into Gratefille from both the East and West sides. As Mallory had said, there were no guns blazing, but Humvees and LAVs are not quiet at the best of times, and when you deliberately downshift, they can wake the dead.

  It took about three minutes for the newly reinstated leadership of the town to present themselves in response to a very politely phrased request, albeit phrased at a fairly high decibel level, at which point parlay could begin. Everyone from the “meet-and-greet” was there--from the town, that is. Neither Sheri nor Sergeant Keeler was present. Sheri wasn’t there since Mallory had put her foot down and declared this a purely military operation as the security of the base was entirely the province of the Guard. She’d been tempted to use the excuse that Sergeant Keeler had been the only one physically injured until Halstead had reminded her that Pete had slugged Sheri in the back of the head as well, just not left any permanent marks, which both cooled her down and pissed her off all over again. Keeler wasn’t there because he wasn’t quite seeing straight yet and, frankly, in his shoes, Mallory wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have just shot all six of the “front men” and been done with it. Screw permission, forgiveness was usually easier to come by and required less paperwork.

  “Before you say anything, we’re going to get a few things out of the way,” Sergeant Jackson began. “My name is Sergeant Jackson and the first thing you need to know is that we are, I am, pissed. Sergeant Keeler is, and I say is because he is still with us thankyouverymuch, under my command, he is in a squad in MY platoon. That means you dicked with one of MY boys. I don’t care who threw the rock. I don’t care that he’s dead. No, I take that back, I do care that he’s dead. I’m glad HE is dead but the point is MY boy was there because of YOU people. YOU people are DIRECTLY responsible for what happened to him yesterday. Period. End of discussion.”

  The group as a whole flinched at every capitalized word, and they were very obviously capitalized when Jackson said them. He let the silence hang for a few seconds before he continued, “All of that aside we are not here for reprisals.” The group from the town visibly relaxed at that and the two women let out a slow breath. “I’m not done, and I’m still not happy. This isn’t The Hague, you aren’t on trial, and I think we all know that the, well, mastermind certainly isn’t the right word, but the individual ultimately behind yesterday’s joke of a meeting is no longer around to be a thorn in our sides.”

  “Our sole purpose for being here is to find out just what yesterday’s little production was all about and what it was supposed to accomplish. We aren’t going to take anyone back to the base and water board them and we can’t and won’t force anything from anyone but today won’t go like yesterday. Is that understood?”

  After a few seconds and a few head nods Jackson just couldn’t help himself, “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

  A chorus of ‘Yes, sir’ and ‘Yes, Sergeant’ was the reply. “At least I know you heard me. There’s a reason we have a protocol in the military and not all of it is to stroke the Officer’s egos. So, just what was yesterday all about, anyway? And I’m not talking about the little drama that got resolved last night, because we’ve already been told that you didn’t have anything to do with that so save the ‘righteous indignation’ and ‘moral outrage’ for some other time. I’m talking about the waste of time, energy, man and woman hours, and resources--not the least of which is the fuel which could have been either saved or put to better use.”

  The townspeople looked at each other for a few more seconds and then the oldest one of the bunch, the same one who had originally stood up to Pete the afternoon before, took a half step forward and became spokesperson for the group. “Frankly, we aren’t entirely sure. Pete was keeping his cards close to the vest, what few cards he had left, and I think he was making things up as he went along. He started out drinking and in just a couple of days started smoking weed like it was cigarettes. I know that he wanted us to get as much information about you all as a group as we could but without committing to anything, and then try to set up another meeting-- outside of that, not much else.”

  “I think he had some grand design that only he knew all the details to, and like I said, I doubt he was playing with a full deck there near the end. He was threatening people for no reason, swinging his dick, trying to act like some combination magnanimous ruler and cruel overlord, and nobody had the guts to call him on it or stand up to him after the first day. I think that’s when he snapped, actually.”

  “What happened the first day?” Jackson asked.

  The old guy ran his hands through his hair and looked over at the sunrise through partially closed eyes
for a couple of breaths before he continued, “The first morning, when Pete showed up, he pulled in here in that hotrod of his about 10:30. He’d apparently been listening in on the CB, since we’d been using it to communicate with each other since Friday after the power went out. He had that ridiculous antenna on his car that let him pick up from farther than he could transmit and he’d evidently been driving around, listening to the signal as it got weaker and stronger, sort of a poor-man’s triangulation, trying to find a population center that wasn’t falling apart outside of Nashville.”

  “So he pulls in and asks, fairly politely, who’s in charge. We don’t have a police station in town, we were covered by the county; and we don’t have a Mayor, we had a City Council. He drives over to the Municipal building, where the library and City Council are--and the one remaining councilman was, since the rest took off within a couple of days of the power outage-- and asks to speak to him. When Mike comes out he doesn’t think anything of the fact that Pete’s wearing a gun as there’s probably ten or twelve people in town doing the same. Too bad, because after Pete asks if Mike’s all that’s left of the City Council and Mike says yes, Pete hauls off and shoots him. Bang, right there in front of the library.

  “There were a half a dozen people there who saw it, including me. Didn’t bat an eye at the time, just turned to us on the sidewalk and said ‘I’m in charge here now. You all might want to run along and let everyone know, and if I see anyone else with a gun in town, they’ll end up just like Mike here. No questions asked.’ Then he turned around, got a good look at Mike, turned green, and threw up all over himself--didn’t even make it to the bushes or the gutter.”

 

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