by Ian Daniels
“We actually might be able to do something about that,” Tiffany said thoughtfully and retreated back into the house for another load of stuff to be loaded and moved.
“You might want to be careful with that,” Breanne cautioned once she was sure Tiffany, and everyone else, were really out of ear shot and we had started walking back towards the trucks.
This was really not something I was in the mood to talk about, especially with her right now, but it looked like I was going to have to.
“I know, its just old habits with her, really meaningless… but I do know the problems this type of thing could cause,” I looked around again to make sure we were away from prying eyes and brushed a thin streak of hair away from her face. “We are just barely hanging on in a fragile enough society and this type of thing could tear a group apart.”
I chose the words deliberately, trying not to ramp up the very dangerous game being played between us. The air was electric and to give in to the ever growing indulgent temptation would have been not just easy, but justifiable.
It wasn’t as simple as saying this was something I wanted or didn’t want, it wasn’t as clear cut or defined as that. I was as much of a victim as she was of succumbing to the situation we found ourselves in. Neither of us could deny that there was a connection between us, but the bigger picture of her family, my friends, played a more important part in everything than listening to our own selfish desires... like possible happiness.
Only a relative maturity that belied the situation itself kept us in check. We were each able to look into the other’s eyes, smile, and shake our heads in resigned understanding. We had come to the silent consensus that although what was going on was possibly just the result of a victim of circumstance, what we wanted was not to be in this lifetime. “Maybe in the next one though,” we said to each other silently.
For the next hour we helped pack and load and were inside trying to make a list of what the empty houses had, so as to not bring any extra items, when we heard a sudden long stream of expletives coming from the front yard.
“Drew’s back,” I said without looking up from my pad of paper.
“Should we go out there?” Breanne asked with her eyes still closed. She was sitting on the floor with her head back against the wall, arms draped lazily across her bent knees, and taking advantage of the small moment of peacefulness.
“I wouldn’t,” Derek peered through the drapes of the front window.
Chapter 19
“You guys got lit up just a few miles from here?”
I had pulled RJ aside to talk with him privately away from all the others. I was hoping to glean a little, for lack of a better word, “better” information, than what we had been hearing and seeing.
“Yeah and I wanted to get your take on it. There was nothing with an address or anything else on it in their car. They didn’t have any supplies to speak of, and we didn’t find anything fresh at any of the neighbor’s houses, so I’m trying to figure out where these guys came from. You and Stan, away from the others, haven’t seen anything like these two before, have you?”
“Not for a long time. We killed some guys that were headed up to the Burke’s place a while ago, back when people were still using the roads, but it’s been six months since we’ve seen anyone walking, riding, driving… anything. Before that, we had to turn some families and groups away, and there were a few that thought they could push their way in, but we’ve been alone out here for a long time now.”
That somehow jogged my memory and I dropped my backpack to unzip the top pocket and retrieve the little notebook I had been scribbling in on the drive here.
“I tried to write down the stuff we saw when we came through that little dinky Wilcox rest area town, and I wonder…” I paused as I checked my notes, “nope, nothing on a little blue VW. Course that doesn’t really mean anything. They had to have followed us out here. There’s just no other reason they would be exploring this far out.”
“Um, can I ask you why you are out here?” RJ’s question surprised me.
“What do you mean?” I sincerely wasn’t sure what he meant, or worse, where he was going with the question.
“Well from the sounds of it, you guys are set up pretty well back at your houses, why risk it all to come all the way out here?”
“I grew up with these guys,” I answered truthfully. “Derek and I played ball together and were drinking buddies until he left to go fight fires.”
“And you knew Tiffany too?”
“Sure, Sydney too. It’s a small town and we all went to school together more or less. Tiffany and I had some of the same classes and we hung out a little bit, but not a big deal,” I downplayed.
“So what’s the deal with you asking her about me then?” RJ finally broached the subject.
“Oh that, I wanted to know your experience and what type of guy you were,” I answered, again being completely truthful.
“Why didn’t just you just ask me then?”
“Mostly because I don’t know you, but I do know her… and I trust her,” I told him frankly. “Have you ever asked a combat vet if they suffered from PTSD?”
He cocked his head to the side and waited to see where I was going with this, and probably getting ready to punch me right in the jaw too.
“Well I don’t figure that waiting till I’m out in the field with someone is the time to find out for myself,” I finished my thought. “If you ask a guy if he suffers from something, he’s either going to lie to you, or get pissed off, and one way or the other, I didn’t want to find out the hard way.”
“The field?” He asked, picking up the one important nugget in my little spiel.
“I’m thinking about taking off on foot from the convoy on the way back towards the farms to check out a few places. If I decide to do it, would you be up for the trip?”
“Dude no offense, but I don’t know you either. I’m not going out in the woods alone with someone I don’t know… or trust.”
“Exactly, and I’m glad to hear it,” I said, again answering the question of why I had been talking to Tiffany about him. “I feel the same way, but really it would be an easy and low key hike. I kind of want to check out a few spots, specifically a family I used to know, and then maybe get lucky and shoot a deer or something on the way back to meet up with everyone else.”
“Just what was it you did before all this anyway? Army?” He asked me, starting to warm to the idea.
“I just shuffled papers for work most the time,” I tried to sound indifferent, testing to see what he would take on faith and what he needed an answer for.
“Oh so a REMF POG?” he said with exaggerated loathing.
“No, I never served.”
“Oh come on, you obviously have experience, who were you with?”
“Look, let’s just say I played a lot of paintball okay?” I joked one last time.
His look told me that if I wanted his help, I was going to have to give him something more to go on. “How well do you know your post war history for the last fifty years or so?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You know about Korea, Vietnam, both Iraq’s… maybe even Bosnia, North and South Africa, the Latin American conflicts… well nobody ever really hears what happens after the main force troops leave those places.”
He thought about it for a moment then replied, “And that’s where you come in?”
“That’s where the guys that I used to run around with came in… in a manner of speaking.”
“Agency spook then?” he again summarized.
“Hell no, those guys screw up just getting us into wars, and they don’t give a crap about what happens after.” Or so I had read in a book one time... “We did some stuff with mostly the Sheriff's and Border Patrol but played with some Marshall’s, a little Homeland Security...”
“So what, like mercenaries?”
“No, mercs are psychos, and they got paid a hell of a lot better. It just ended up th
at I was someone that the different departments could put to use. We did some instructing and went to a couple different schools, and then when the locals or other agencies needed us, we rolled in and helped out… quietly.”
“And I’m guessing that Stan doesn’t know any of this does he?”
It looked as if RJ was starting to get the picture and put some of the puzzle pieces together.
“No, I’m still just some delinquent high school punk in his eyes, but that’s between him and me so if you could keep this to yourself, I’d appreciate it,” I confided in him and got us back on track. “Anyway, I haven’t decided yet on dropping out and scouting around or not, and I haven’t mentioned it to the others either… so if I do and you want to tag along, keep your gear handy.”
The open campfire that evening was a bittersweet event. The meal of fresh fish and grilled vegetables from the garden was excellent, and the stories were mournfully cheerful. As Tiffany had hinted at earlier in the day, somehow, someway, a quart of pure moonshine from a mason jar was offered to anyone willing to partake and subject themselves to it.
Most everyone from the Meehan family shared an account of growing up out at this house. Even Stan told some heartfelt and moving anecdotes from the kid’s early lives. There was a loll in the conversation when Tiffany broke the quiet with a question to the group.
“Can anyone here play the guitar at all? I found Sydney’s guitar in her room today, does anyone know how to play?”
“Jake? Drew? You guys feel up to it?” I asked of our resident ex (wannabe) rock stars.
The two took turns needling for a while and tried singing some, but surprisingly to even his own family; it was Stan who seemed to be the most talented. He strummed a few notes and it took me a second to realize that I recognized and remembered the song he was playing. I’m sure it was just blind dumb luck, but the song he was playing strangely captured some of the strife I had been going through for the last couple days.
His fingers stumbled when my voice joined in the song, my eyes staying fixated, staring into the fire. He caught up and kept going until I finished the part of the song that I knew the best.
“You know Johnny Cash?” he looked across the fire at me.
“Nope, but I know Dave Matthews,” I antagonized him.
Actually I knew them both and had never really known why it was that the song Long Black Veil had always spoke to me like it had. It was an old duet from Johnny Cash’s days about a man wrongly accused of murder, and unwilling to defend himself to keep secret the affair he and his best friend’s wife were having.
Once finished, I kept my eyes down, hoping it wasn’t obvious that I was avoiding eye contact with anyone else around the fire. It was time to toss another log on the fire and another wall across my psyche.
The next morning was an early start for all of us. We had a lot left to finish before we could head out on the road and I was doing a final walk around the property to see if there was anything else that I thought should be included in the move. Just down the hill from where I was surveying, I saw Sandy coming up from collecting the morning’s eggs with Stan trailing not far behind her. I continued walking to meet them half way, when something behind the garden shed caught my attention.
“Sandy, please tell me that is what I think it is,” I asked when she got closer.
“Of course it is; we’re Irish,” she said easily, as if the statement was an all encompassing answer to any non-notable question.
“Does it work?”
“Sure, but we haven’t used it for a while; couldn’t spare the potatoes and sugar and stuff,” she answered.
Stan had caught up to us now and was standing close by, listening in.
“If we have the room, we have got to take this with us. It would be huge for trading or just … we have got to take this with us,” I told them excitedly.
Sandy gave me a motherly good natured look, and said simply, “I’ll see if RJ and Derek can get it moved before we get the animals loaded.”
Then leaving Stan standing beside me, she continued walking up the little hill.
“You guys have a still.”
The possibilities this opened up were making me want to jump up and down. Stan the hard line, disapproving father and retired Air Marshall stood there studying me in all my wonder for an extra moment, then shrugged and repeated his wife’s answer of “We're Irish,” then followed Sandy back to the house with her basket of eggs.
It took another five long hours until it looked like we may be ready to get on the road… in another hour. I was personally glad that as we got ready for the return trip, I wasn’t being bombarded with questions and I had a little time to myself. I had my map and notepad out and had been examining the routes to get to the other places that I had wanted to explore ever since we started out on this trip the first time around.
“You still want to break off from the herd?” RJ asked as he walked by my spot on the grass where I was leaning against the side of the old farm house.
“I think so. It looks like everyone is pretty squared away so I shouldn’t be missed.”
“Well if you still want the company, I’m in,” He informed me.
There was a solid tone in his voice that spoke to his history as a professional soldier.
“Good deal, let’s go let them know.” I got up slowly from my spot and walked over to the trucks where everyone was busy with the final loading.
“Alright, everybody listen up and gather round, plans have changed… new mission,” I said, tossing my jacket across the hood of Drew’s 4runner, then laying my AK74 on top of it. “We convoy to this point here,” I indicated an intersection on the map of a side road with the main one that we would be traveling on, “where RJ and I will drop out by foot, and you guys continue on the planned route.” Then looking towards RJ, “Gear up for a good six day lurp, meet here in twenty to go over the details.”
“You got it,” he confirmed.
His confidence was music to my ears and I felt a welcome rush of excitement and energy flood through me.
“You’re not coming back with us?” Breanne asked as she pulled my attention to her. “When were you going to tell m…us?”
“I just did. There are a couple of places I still want to check out while we are out this way, like that trading post we passed, and there was one other family I used to know along the way too. With RJ along, I’ll be better off than I have been in years. Plus you’ve got a lot more important stuff to worry about now.”
“Like what?” she asked, taking a few steps away from the others.
“Like getting your convoy home. This is your gig now. You need to get with whoever you want to work with as your Second and set the route, positions, shooters, check your fuel…”
She didn’t look overwhelmed, but she didn’t look too pleased either.
“I don’t know the first thing about…” she tried to argue, and I cut her off.
“Sure you do. Just do what I did, or if you have a different way that will work better, then do that. Whoever you have backing you up just has to do what you did for me. Now you might want to get everybody moving if we’re going to get out of here at a decent time. Don’t worry, you and I’ll talk again before we head out… you’ll be alright.”
I wasn’t trying to intentionally distance myself or place a barrier between us, but we each had a lot of important stuff to attend to and not much time to do it in. Our vacation was coming to an end and she obviously knew it too because she jumped into action and started getting her people organized. After one last look between us from across the yard, I moved off behind the garage to get my personal gear in order.
My pack was already set up for this type of thing so it only took a few minutes to make some final adjustments and to check my food and water.
“I thought you said no to camo?” Jake inquired when I returned after changing my clothes.
“I said you didn’t need to wear any, I do,” I joked.
It probably
sounded a little more harsh and egotistical than I meant for it to, but I was trying to get into the zone for a long recon and I still wasn’t in a great mood for answering needless questions.
I had on a simple pair of rip stop type pants and a matching tee-shirt with my jacket over the top. My normal ball cap and backpack rounded out the attire. Separately, nothing was all that camouflaged. But layered together, the patterns worked quite well at breaking up my features. All I was trying to do was blend in a little better; I wasn’t too worried about my outline. This wasn’t a sniper’s stalk; it was a hopefully unseen walk through the woods.
“Oh and before I forget,” I reached into my bag that would be going back with the trucks, “You still up to date on running a Makarov?” I tossed a small leather holstered pistol over to Tiffany.
She was standing close by and caught the small package easily. The little polished nickel coated gun shined in the afternoon sunlight as she lifted the flap and withdrew it, ejected the magazine, thumbed the safety off, and checked the chamber. I could see that she hadn’t yet lost her touch of handling the Russian pistol that she had first started shooting with me years ago.
“Wow, I’ve missed this little thing.” she quipped almost to herself.
From under my sunglasses I could see her father’s conflicting emotions. Stan still had a lingering disapproval of his daughter’s old unruly boyfriend, but it was what it was. Even being out of practice, I was sure Tiffany could use a pistol to protect herself if needed.
She came over and gave me a light and quick, but still very meaningful hug of thanks and whispered a few quick words in my ear before getting back to loading her stuff in the Jeep. Thankfully, only a few people saw the exchange, and RJ was not one of them. I didn’t need any jealousy cropping up in his mind.
“Pissed off father figure coming your way,” Julie clued me in under her breath a few minutes later.
Her, Jake, Cary, Andrew and I were circled up and going over the last minute details.
“Can we have a word?” Stan asked sternly from behind me.