Renewal 8 - War Council

by Jf Perkins

  On the second floor, he found the usual collection of bedrooms, bathrooms, and closets. He quickly identified what he thought was Junior’s room by the nasty collection of equipment in the room. He, or possibly his father, had gone to great lengths to keep women from becoming too boring. When he heard footfalls on the stairs he made a rapid decision and slid into a closet in the most generic looking bedroom he could find. He hoped he had not completely misjudged the character of the Junior Dragon or he would be face to face with the kid in moments.

  The Dragon’s house may not have had endless electricity, but it had running water. Kirk knew this because he could hear the shower, and Junior’s surprisingly pleasant singing voice. He took the opportunity to look around. A line of white-uniformed servants could be seen out the bedroom window, taking the gear from the truck and carrying it out to a shed in the back. Steam was beginning to rise from the vents and the laundry mystery was solved. From the other side, two more were riding bicycles down the driveway, no doubt rounding up the Junior Dragon’s lieutenants. As the shower shut off with a thunk of copper pipe, Kirk got back into the closet and prepared to wait.

  He didn’t wait long. Vehicles approached the house. Heavy feet walked up the pavement and knocks sounded at the front door. Within an hour, the series of sounds dwindled to the point that Kirk was sure a meeting was about to start. From his survey of the first floor, he had a fairly good idea of where such a meeting would take place. Kirk stepped smoothly to the mostly likely bedroom, hoping that he wouldn’t encounter one of the small army of servants. He stretched out on the carpeted floor and laid his head on the vent. He was sure that no central air remained to start up and spoil his hearing. He could hear voices below, but not clearly enough. He moved to the next room and tried again. Better. He could hear every word being spoken in the room downstairs.

  The Junior Dragon did him another favor by running the presumably innocent servants out of the house before the business meeting began. Kirk could relax and enjoy the show.

  It started with some stilted, bullshit ritual based on the Brotherhood of the Knights of the White God. He knew from Charlie Bell’s report that the Junior Dragon didn’t believe a word of it, but from what Kirk could hear, Gary was well practiced and playing it to the hilt. Then came a one-sided and patently false version of events in Coffee County. Kirk expected no less, but he had to fight the urge to butt in and give his side of the story. By the end of Junior’s account, his men were restless and agitated. It was a good performance, and it was working. Gary presented his plan. Kirk listened carefully. He wanted to memorize every detail. It wasn’t hard to remember. Kirk could have written the whole thing on a paper napkin. In essence Junior said, “Round up everything we’ve got, drive up to Coffee County and kick ass.”

  Simple enough, and to Kirk’s ears, stupid. Sure, there would be a bunch of white-robers attacking Teeny Town, but unless they came up with a little more subtlety, Kirk could simply treat the whole battle like a shooting gallery. No way could it be that easy. In the end, the Junior Dragon gave his men two days to get ready. They would leave on Friday morning, three days from now. That was all Kirk needed to know.

  A cautious man would have waited until everyone cleared out before making his move, but Kirk had not made his reputation on caution. He checked his gear, got to his feet and strode across the upstairs landing. He ran down the stairs, his feet becoming a blur, and looked to his right as he made the first floor. He yanked a teargas canister off his vest and lobbed it in a perfect arc into the meeting room. The canister bounced twice on the long table, spewing smoke by the second bounce. All eyes in the room followed the natural path, watching the smoke bomb spin to a halt. By the time it occurred to anyone to look for the source, Kirk was gone.

  He dropped two more smokers on his way out to the garage. He was old enough to remember hot cars from the old days and was sorely tempted by the Italian sports cars, but there were too many unknowns in that path. He jumped into the truck, and found the keys waiting in the ignition. Idiots... The truck squealed like a dying pig as he punched the throttle and backed out of the garage. It didn’t stop squealing until he was halfway to the road. The cattle gap rattled his teeth as he swung the truck in a hard scrubbing turn onto the highway. He looked back up the hill, to see if they had mounted a pursuit yet. Maybe they went out the back.

  Ten minutes later, he sat high on a hill, watching the Dragon’s men sail by at high speed. They assumed he would head back to Coffee County by the obvious route, and that’s the way they went. Kirk smiled an evil smile for two reasons. One was he had knocked the whole Dragon clan off balance before the show even began, and two, Kirk was heading for Murfreesboro.

  Chapter 8 - 11

  We were exiled to the barn. Mom was determined to save the fragile psyches of Eugene’s former prisoners, and if that meant having us living in the barn, so be it. Sally was of a different mind, and she was not shy about saying it. “The only way to get back these women back to normal is to get back to normal. Back on the horse, so to speak.”

  Mom argued each time, and Sally let her get away with it for a few days. In the meantime, Sally showed her disapproval for the method by spending more time with us. In particular, she took every opportunity to speak with Arturo, just like before, when she had taken every opportunity to teach my sister about growing plants. We weren’t too worried about it either way. The weather stayed relatively warm. It wasn’t like the same time last year, when the sky had become dark and the wind had turned bitter cold. That had happened at the time of the year when we were supposed to look for a cool stream to float with the currents and hide from the heat.

  We had plenty to do while we waited to get back into the house. Bear developed a new pattern of following us wherever we went. He had appointed himself our personal guard and we were glad to have him. No one could approach without encountering the massive threatening bark that the dog could generate from deep down inside. He was also good at catching rabbits and bringing them back in pristine condition. Well, except for the dog slobber...

  We unloaded the hay wagon into the bottom floor of the barn. Dad and Arturo had already removed the farm implements from the back section and placed them under an open shed roof. If Mom had been involved, it would have taken much longer. She would not stand for the mess we made in our haste. With only men at work, it was enough to get everything off the wagon so we could use it again.

  We started gathering hay up at the Carroll’s old place. Kirk and Dad and I would ride the wagon and keep watch. Arturo was on permanent driving duty, as long as his leg hurt. The funny thing was, we weren’t hearing much about that leg anymore. His limp seemed more like a habit than a physical limitation. Since he was good driver, no one made a point of the change. Bear would trot alongside if the day was young, and if he was getting tired, he would bound up onto the wagon and ride along with his tongue flapping in the breeze. We made sure that he got a drink of water every time we did. It seemed like he was happy to have a job to do.

  Arturo became a very skilled hand with that hay spike. Within two days, we had disassembled all the hay walls around the barn and carried them back to our new place. We took a tall teetering load of the square bails from inside the barn, leaving almost nothing inside except the original barn and the holes we had dug to survive the winter. Before we wandered the rest of the Carroll farm for loose round bales, Dad took Kirk and me on an armed hike to Eugene’s old camp. It’s probably a good thing we did, because it was no longer empty. Eugene was telling the truth when he said there were more men, or less likely, someone else had simply moved in after our skirmish.

  Either way, the camp held a pair of new tents, two trucks, and around a dozen men. They had dug some defenses on the river side, which led Dad to believe that they were still fighting with the cannibal clan across the river valley. That was fine with Dad. As long as they kept fighting each other, they wouldn’t bother us. By the time we got back to the barn, Arturo had loaded the last of th
e round bales from the vicinity of the barn, and we headed home for the evening.

  Sally had an old turkey, named Tom of course. She said she kept him around because he was a better watch dog than Bear. Jimmy was sure it hurt Bear’s feelings to hear that. It was more likely that Bear enjoyed hearing it, because these days, it meant he was going to get a hug from the sympathetic little boy. The turkey had been around long enough, Sally said, to know that things were different, and that’s why he went crazy one day. He went after the red haired girl the day we were loading that hay, and that night when we got home, Tom made an excellent pile of turkey sandwiches.

  We men - and I was losing the ironic sense of myself that went with that term - sat around in our loft that night, munching on sandwiches and enjoying the feeling of the end of a hardworking day. The kerosene lantern cast a pleasant glow on the hay that was now stacked neatly in the loft.

  Arturo handed a third of a sandwich to Bear, who inhaled it without even pretending to chew. Arturo yanked his hand back to safety and said, “David? Should I feel bad about Juannie?”

  There it was, right out in the open, a subject we knew was there but was never mentioned.

  Dad chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and tossed his sandwich to Bear, just for the pleasure of watching that gigantic head move so quickly to catch it. “Well, Arturo... Are you sure you want my opinion?”

  “I need your opinion, David... Need it,” Arturo replied.

  “Not to get all mystical like our new friend, but I think you know the answer already. I also think you have some rules in there that won’t let you admit what you know to yourself. I’m not saying anything bad about your rules either. They make you a good man.”

  “Thank you, David, but no matter how I look at it, I just keep going around in circles. That’s why I need your help.”

  “All right, Art. Here’s what I think. I think you are taking responsibility for things that were completely outside your control. Juannie was your wife, not your child. Any man who thinks he can control what his wife thinks, says, or does is fooling himself. Believe me, I know. I’m sleeping in a barn with a perfectly good bed 150 feet away.” Dad smiled to remove the sting of what he was saying. “In your case, and mine too if I’m honest, you take responsibility for everyone around you, when it just never works out that way. If you could have convinced Juannie to work as hard as the rest of us, she might have done it, but only when you were there watching her. If you could have explained the hard realities of our new lives, maybe she would have picked herself up and gotten to work. If you could have convinced her that all of us cared even though we had no support for her behavior, maybe she wouldn’t have walked out into that blizzard. But none of that was in your control. You tried. We all tried. Many times. She couldn’t make the shift in her thinking that it takes to get by in this new world, and you know that. You tell me what else you could have done.”

  Arturo opened his mouth to speak, made a halting noise and closed his mouth.

  “Exactly,” Dad said. “I tell you if any one of us could have done it, we would have, but we couldn’t, and neither could you. Does that make you responsible for what happened? Not to me. I can tell you exactly what would have made you responsible. If you had supported her behavior, even if you did all the extra work she demanded just to keep her happy, then I would have held you responsible, because she would be sitting here today waiting for someone to draw her a bath and feed her a meal. Lucy would still be watching your son full-time, and Beth would still be trying to convince Juannie to get off her ass. Not your fault.”

  Arturo looked down at his fingers rubbing slowly in circles around each other. Dad picked up another sandwich. Enough words had been exchanged to last for the night. We sat quietly until everyone had eaten their fill. Dad reached over to douse the lantern, and Bear curled up by Tommy and Jimmy. He settled with a huff of breath, followed by a long sigh.

  I’m not sure what Arturo heard that night, but I know that when we left the barn in the morning, his limp was gone.

  Chapter 8 – 12

  When Kirk arrived at the Attorney General’s office, Charlie Bell’s secretary had explicit instructions for anyone from Bill’s community. She sent Kirk right over the Charlie and Judith’s house. He struck the brass knocker several times, and Judith Bell opened the door. She turned her head at an angle and said, “Let me guess. Your last name is Carter.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m Bill’s brother, Kirk.”

  “Well, call me Judith and come on in. We’ve got lunch if you’re hungry.”

  “Thank you, Judith. I would appreciate some lunch. It’s been a busy day.”

  “Charlie, Mike! Kirk Carter’s here!” Judith called into the house.

  Charlie bounded down the hallway like a Labrador Retriever. His hand was out before he was within ten feet of Kirk. “Kirk! Hello. It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you. Come on in. Let’s have some lunch.”

  “Thanks, Charlie. I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

  Charlie gestured and scooted back to the dining room. He took his seat and waved Kirk to an empty chair on his right. A younger man sat to his left. “Kirk, this is my son, Mike. Mike, this is Bill Carter’s brother, Kirk.”

  “It’s an honor, sir.” Mike said.

  “Everyone calls me Kirk, please. You look at lot better than I expected.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting better every day. Getting fat, too, living around here.” Mike said with a smile.

  “I can see how that would happen,” Kirk replied, taking in the catfish, slaw and hush puppies that someone had just placed in front of him. “I’m glad you’re recovering.”

  “Me too. I’m going nuts, just sitting around all the time.” Mike said.

  “I’d trade with you for about a week, I expect.” Kirk gave a wry smile, knowing he would feel the same way. He began to fork pieces of fish away from the bones.

  “Well, eat up,” Charlie said. “I want to pepper you with questions, but my wife will throw me out if I don’t let you eat first.”

  Judith glanced at Kirk and said, “And my daddy said you weren’t trainable, Charlie.”

  “He was right. I still leave my drawers on the floor,” Charlie said brightly.

  “One of your many talents, Husband.”

  Kirk enjoyed their arguments as he ate. He understood from watching his brother that every sniping comment actually expressed a long and comfortable love. Very quickly, he announced his surrender by setting his cloth napkin on the table.

  “Can we get you some more, Kirk?” Judith asked.

  “No, thank you. I’m quite stuffed. Delicious,” Kirk replied.

  “You know... No offense, but from the stories, I expected something different from Kirk Carter,” Charlie said.

  Kirk smiled and said, “When I was ten, we went to see the circus in the old arena in Nashville. They had dancing bears, and trained tigers. Right now, I’m just dancing on a ball in the circus. I’m trainable too.”

  “Touché,” was Charlie’s reply. “So, what brings you to the ‘Boro?”

  “I just came back from Columbia. Snuck in on the back of the Junior Dragon’s truck, listened in on a war meeting, and had to leave in a hurry.”

  “Damn! I’d like to know what they feed you boys from Coffee County. Balls of solid steel down there,” Charlie said with a low whistle.

  “I hear that we’re not the only ones,” Kirk shot back with a knowing look.

  Charlie got the message and exchanged quick glances with his wife and son. “So, what’s the word?”

  “Dusty’s program in town was cut short. The Jenkins and Dragons picked him up, tortured our location out of him, and dumped him on our front door. He didn’t make it.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry,” Charlie replied as Judith gasped and held her hand over her mouth. Mike just looked angry.

  “That was early yesterday. We were ready for something to happen, but we kinda missed that possibility. Bill’s pretty pissed at himself,” Kirk e
xplained. “Anyway, we retaliated last night. John Hall led a team to the Jenkins place, took the entire place and roughly a hundred men out without any real problems. He came away with two prisoners and two... uh, prostitutes. I was watching Wyatt and the Junior Dragon at the time. Wyatt most likely has everything he needs to get the other families in the fight, so I followed Junior. We have no idea what kind of force he can bring to bear. Still don’t, as a matter of fact.”

  “Sounds pretty bad,” Charlie responded.

  “Hopefully, the prisoners can give us a little more. In the meantime, I did manage to learn the general battle plan. The main reason I came here is to tell you that if you can raise the men to do it, you might want to think about heading down to Columbia this weekend. We’ve tweaked their noses hard enough that it sounds like they are going to leave the place wide open while they come after us with everything they’ve got.”

  “Kirk, if I could raise those kinds of numbers, don’t you think it would be better to send them to you?”

  “That’s what I said to Bill, but he’s always looking at the larger picture. It’s a kill-two-birds situation. If we can keep them busy long enough, you can take back a big chunk of the state and save two counties full of people. If we can win, then Coffee County is under control when it’s over. Personally, I’d take all the help we can get. I’m selfish like that.” Kirk took a sip from his water glass.

  “So, not only do I need to raise an army in three days, I need to decide what to do with it,” Charlie said. “Tell it to me straight. How good are your chances?”

  “Not bad, really. They’ll have the numbers, but we’ll have better fighters, better tactics and a whole lot of nasty surprises we’ve been cooking up for years. My most pessimistic view is that we’ll win, but it will be costly. My most optimistic is that we’ll cut them apart before they even lay eyes on Teeny Town. It really depends on what they do. So far, they’ve been stupid, but you just can’t count on stupidity.”