by Mic Roland
Landers got out of the passenger side. Haddock stepped out of the driver’s side.
“Oh, hello, Simmons,” called Landers. “Didn’t see you up there. How are you…oh, I see you’re ready for…anything.” Landers smiled.
“Seemed like a good idea,” said Martin flatly. “What can I do for you?”
“Yes. That’s good. Cut to the chase. No pussy-footing around. Just read the bottom line…”
Martin wondered when he would run out of catch-phrases. It was clear that Landers was ill-at-ease with whatever his business was. That made Martin keep a grip on the carbine.
Haddock broke the phrase log-jam. “You might have heard that the school ran out of propane last night.” Martin nodded. “So, we’ve been trying to get all the people who were in the shelter placed in homes.”
“And,” Landers had recovered. “You were saying how you had an empty…well, you didn’t actually say you and an empty room, but when you were saying that the old lady from your church died, well, it was almost like saying you had an empty room.” Landers held a wide, guilty smile, like a boy delivering his best dog-ate-my-homework line.
Martin did not like the nervousness. No one is nervous delivering good news. He decided to hold his peace and let the two selectmen play their hand.
“We got almost everyone placed,” Haddock said proudly.
“Yup,” chimed in Landers. “Almost everyone.”
“Even that family of seven. So, now it’s down to just the last couple. That’s pretty good, huh?”
Martin remained silent.
Haddock motioned for whoever was in the backseat to come out. It was Dunan and his wife. Martin felt his spirits melt. They WOULD be the last ones placed, he thought. Who would want them?
Margaret emerged from the front door. “Martin? I heard talking. Who is this?” She saw him with the carbine slung forward. “Martin.” Her hoarse whisper was half reproach for having the gun ready in front of guests, and half a call for what’s-going-on-here?
“Hello Mrs. Simmons,” Landers called out. “It’s a fine day, eh?”
Martin’s non-verbal caution inclined Margaret to stay quiet and let the fish have more line.
“Yes, well, the reason we’re here is that the shelter ran out of fuel last night. We’ve been placing the families in various homes that had room. We only had this one couple left, Adam and Trisha Dunan. Their house is on Peachtree Circle, but it’s too cold…and, well, we heard that you had an empty room…now…and so we thought…”
For a moment, Margaret seemed to mirror Martin’s guarded demeanor. Her Christian charity got the upper hand, however. “We do have an empty room…now, but…” Her pioneer woman pragmatism was still in the game. “But we don’t have enough food for the people we have now, let alone two more.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem,” began Landers enthusiastically. “The shelter ran out of fuel, but it was not out of food. In fact, the town’s food pantry had a fair supply on hand, so…” Landers moved around to the back of the minivan and lifted the hatch. He pulled out a big box filled with boxes and cans.
“We don’t want this to be a burden on anyone, so we also brought a supply of food too.” He held a broad smile.
Martin still did not like it. His only experience with Dunan was at Monday’s meeting. It was brief, but hardly encouraging. Margaret, ever the skeptical bargain hunter, must have wondered why the large box of food was part of the request. She hesitated.
Landers gave a little nod to Haddock, who also walked behind the minivan. “Actually,” Haddock said, “They come with two boxes of food.” He held up a slightly smaller box.
They come with? The Dunans sounded like kitchen appliances with accessories. Martin still did not like the deal. Food or no food, he had his fill of strife in his home. Margaret, however, was softening at the prospect of two boxes of food.
She stepped beside Martin to whisper. “I don’t know who they are, but, they come with two boxes of food.”
“I know,” Martin whispered back. “But he’s the guy I told you about that started the fight. I don’t like it.”
“…and I am really not in the mood for any more people in my house,” Margaret said. “But, Martin, two boxes of food like that might get us another month of timeline. Another month.”
Martin tried not to sigh, but he did. The Dunans were an unknown variable, though suspect. The boxes of food were a known element and important. The calculus said take the deal. He looked at Margaret with resignation. She smiled.
“Okay. We’ll take them in,” Martin said at last.
“Great. Great!” gushed Landers, obviously relieved. “This really helps us all out a lot. I can’t thank you and Mrs. Simmons enough.” He walked up the steps to hand Margaret the box of food. Haddock set his box on the rock wall beside the steps. The Dunan’s each took two suitcases from the back of the minivan.
“If there’s anything you need, Simmons, just come up to Town Hall. We’re all in this together, right?” Landers and Haddock both got in the minivan quickly and drove away, rather like someone drives away after dropping off a dog at ‘the farm.’
The Dunan’s stood in the driveway like shipwreck survivors on a beach. They smiled awkwardly at their new hosts.
Margaret’s hostess instincts began to warm up. She waved them up the steps. “Well come on in, you two. My name is Margaret. That’s Martin. Come on in. I’ll show you to the room.”
Martin tried running the variables through the calculus again. Maybe he made a math error.
Trouble Nearby
“We really can’t thank you enough,” said Adam. He tore off a strip of flatbread and chewed it rapidly. He reached across the table for the water pitcher.
“It really is nice of you,” said Trish. “It was bad enough when we had to leave our house, but then to have the shelter close on us too! We didn’t know where to turn.”
Martin recalled Adam’s announcement to go move in with his mother and wondered why that part of their saga had been omitted.
“Well, we do want to help out people in need,” Margaret said. “After all, Jesus did say, ‘whatever you do unto the least of these, you do unto me.’ “
“That is so true,” said Adam, still chewing. “So true.”
“So. Adam, Trish,” Martin tried to sound casual and diplomatic. “It might not need saying, but just in case, I’ll say it anyway. Everyone in this house is contributing to what needs to be done. This isn’t some gulag salt mine, but neither is it a vacation resort.” Martin was recalling the shouting match at the Friday meeting and Peter’s cautions against pampered princes. “This is still my house…and Margaret’s. We have our rules for getting things done, which aren’t just because we like bossing people around. The rules are for the benefit of everyone in the house. Understand?”
“Oh we don’t want to be a burden on you,” said Trish. “You just show us how you want us to help around here and we will. We want to pull our weight. Right Adam?” Adam nodded, but could not speak for having stuffed in another strip of his flatbread.
“That’s good to hear,” Martin said. “There are chores to keep the house going for everyone’s benefit. There’s firewood to haul in.”
“Oh, I’ll do that,” said Adam.
“And water to haul up from the well.”
“I’ll do that,” chimed in Trish.
“There’s also watches to keep,” added Martin. Adam and Trish looked at each other, as if expecting the other to give them a hint of what that meant. “We have someone awake and outside — at all times — to keep watch. That’s why we call it ‘a watch’.”
“Ohhh,” they both said in unison.
“With you two, there are now seven of us. That means we can have six four-hour watches, with a seventh person as relief in the rotation. With each of us having just have one watch per day, it won’t be as hard on any of us. The six-hour watches were starting to wear on us all.”
“Okay, so what do you do on a watch?�
�� Adam asked.
“Mostly listen for the sound of anyone approaching. Then…”
Susan’s voice crackled through the walkie talkie on the counter. “Hey, there’s something going on at the house down the road. Come quick!”
Martin had his 9mm in his pocket already. His carbine was propped in the corner. Dustin jogged to the gun safe for his shotgun and shell belt. Martin set Margaret’s pistol on the kitchen counter. “Keep an eye out back and toward the bridge. Blow your whistle if you see anything you don’t like. Understand? Anything.” Margaret nodded, cleared the action and reinserted the magazine.
“Trish, you stay here. Do whatever Margaret tells you. Judy, be out on the deck listening and watching the woods. Use your whistle if you see anything sketchy.”
“Adam. You come with us.” The three men rushed down the front walk and out to the road.
“Susan. Give me the walkie. Stand here by the mailbox. Keep an eye up the road and up the meadow. Blow your whistle if you see anything suspicious.” Susan nodded with a worried look.
They jogged fifty yards or more until Martin gave the signal to slow down and approach more carefully. The pause gave Martin time to realize that he had done it again. He had rushed off to help someone before thinking once about what, exactly, he expected to do.
Was there any real trouble, or was Nick just raising his voice at his kids again? That was a familiar sound, and this did not sound quite like that. If it was trouble, how many bad-guys were there? He had no idea. What if there were ten of them? What if they all had ARs or AKs? What good would a small carbine and a shotgun do against that? Martin had picked a fine time to start raising questions. They were nearly in sight of the house.
Raised voices could be heard from the Oldham’s house. Nick’s voice, though muffled, was one of them. The other male voices were strangers. Martin had Dustin and Adam behind him, single file, near the brushy edge of the dirt road.
Between the trees, Martin could see that there were three men on the porch of the Oldham’s house. The storm door was closed, probably locked. Nick was visible inside, gesturing rapidly. Two of the men were heavier-set with thick arms and the broad backs of men who regularly enjoyed large meals. They were armed. One had a handgun. The other had a deer rifle of some kind. They were not pointing them at Nick, but had them in their hands nonetheless. The third man was small and wiry. All three had the same mustache-goatee combo. Voices were raised and did not sound friendly. Exact words were not clear.
Dustin tapped Martin on the shoulder and pointed further up the road. Between the trees, he could see two women bundled up like Russian peasants. They stood near the end of the driveway. Behind them sat two shopping carts filled with various bags, boxes and rolled up tarps. They had not seen Martin’s group approach. Their attention was fixed on the porch.
Seeing only five strangers — and only two of them armed — was almost reassuring, at least, when compared to Martin’s pessimistic imagination. Two strangers with guns versus himself and Dustin with guns was a workable scenario. Martin knew Nick had a couple guns, though not what kind. The two women did not have any weapons visible. While they might have them hidden in the bundles, it seemed less likely. If the group’s goal were to intimidate random homeowners, displaying overwhelming firepower would make more sense than keeping it concealed.
Martin signaled for Adam to stay behind a maple tree near the road. He seemed happy to comply. With hand signals, Martin told Adam to keep watch on the road behind them and shout if he saw anything. Adam nodded and gave a thumbs up. The five strangers might be all there were, or they might not be. Martin might not have a plan, per se, but what plan he did have, was to not be surprised.
Dustin took up a position behind the telephone pole at the corner of the Oldham’s yard. It was scant concealment, but a good position. Martin went a bit further to take up position behind an old oak near the middle of the frontage. He could see the porch across the front lawn and could keep an eye on the two women at the end of the driveway.
“We’re only talkin’ a little food is all,” said the man with the deer rifle. “That’s all. Then we’ll be on our way.”
“We haven’t eaten in days,” said the man with the pistol. Martin wondered at that statement. The man’s physique suggested that his ‘personal reserves’ had not been tapped into all that much. “You gotta have a little you can spare.”
Martin could hear Nick’s booming voice through the storm door glass. “We don’t have any food to spare. I told you that ten times. I also told you to go away. Now get lost!”
“Hey man, we’re just trying to be friendly like,” said the wiry man with no gun. “You’re the one copping an attitude. You really shouldn’t be giving people attitude, you know. It’ll be better for everyone if you just chill out and share a little of what you’ve got. That’s all we ask.”
Nick added some profanities to his refusal.
“Oh hey now, don’t go and get all hostile, Mr. Homie. That’s not safe. There’s five us out here, and only two of you in there.”
That was it for Martin. The begging had crossed the line into threats.
“Count again,” shouted Martin. He slid the safety off. The men spun around to face the road. Their eyes darted left and right to find the source of the voice. Martin remained behind the tree, so they could not see him. The two women could, however, and pointed at Martin. For his part, Martin had the carbine at low-ready in case the women pulled out anything. The two women wisely chose to stand still and slowly raise their hands.
Dustin made sure his shotgun barrel was visible. The goatee-men noticed. Adam repositioned himself behind the maple tree. Whether it was a deliberate effort to make his feet visible from the porch, or simply Adam fidgeting, it was handy timing.
“Whoa, hey now,” said the rifle man. “We didn’t mean anything. We were just asking for a little food.”
“Yeah, we’ve been walking for days. We’re really hungry is all. We don’t mean any harm or anything.” The men had moved off the porch, cautiously eyeing Martin, Dustin and Adam’s positions.
Emboldened by the turn of events, Nick and his son Teddy stepped out onto the porch. Nick had his deer rifle. Teddy had a small handgun. “I told you guys to just ship out, and I mean it. We don’t have any extra food.”
“Please hold your weapons high, gentlemen,” shouted Martin. “Where we can see them, and hold them by the barrels, please, gentlemen. Thank you. That’s much more friendly. We do all want to be friendly-like.”
“Aren’t you going to take their guns away?” Dustin whispered.
“Would you give up yours?” Martin whispered back. Dustin scowled. “I’m not looking for a fight here, just to get them out of here.”
The three men and two women turned their shopping carts around and pushed them up the road. The small wheels were not suited to the rocks and loose sand of a dirt road. It was obviously a lot of work to get the carts trundled back to where the pavement began. Martin stayed by the oak to watch them. They continued east on the highway, looking back periodically.
“Hey man, I really gotta thank you for showing up when you did,” said Nick. “That was perfect timing. Those guys had me spooked, I gotta tell ya. It was not gonna go well.”
“Glad we could help,” said Martin. “We heard something going on, so came right over. That bunch did sound like trouble. Probably just enough of them to outnumber a lot of households. Speaking of numbers, they said there were just two of you.”
“Jess and Heather had all the kids downstairs hiding. I wasn’t about to tell them there were women and children in the house. I did NOT like the look of those guys.”
“Are Jess and them okay?” Martin asked.
“I think so. Scared as all get-out, but not hurt.”
Dustin, Adam and Teddy stayed outside to watch the road and make sure the goatee bunch did not double back or try anything like a flanking move. Martin went inside with Nick to see how the women and children were. The women
were more rattled than the children, who had turned the event into extreme hide and seek.
Martin noticed empty meal wrappers around the fireplace: wrappers to FEMA meals. It looked like the family had eaten the whole box in one sitting. He could not recall seeing Nick or Jess in the line Wednesday. “So, Nick, how are you guys set for food?”
“Oh, we’re pretty good,” Nick said with stiff nonchalance.
“Come on, Nick. Really.”
Nick’s brave pose collapsed. “Yeah, not really. Jess was gonna go shopping Saturday, but the thing hit on Monday. So, we were already kinda low. Margaret’s been really good about giving us a little now and then.”
“She has, has she?”
“Oh, nothing big,” said Nick, “just a little, now and then, for the kids, you know.”