299 Days: The 17th Irregulars 2d-6

by Glen Tate

  In that moment, Grant had an overwhelming sense that he had some things to tidy up before he went off to war. He felt like he had to make some arrangements now in case he didn’t come back. He knew what he needed to get in order before he left.

  “There’s talk, Jordan, about a ‘rental team,’” Grant said. “You heard about that?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jordan said. Good to see that he was honest. Grant halfway expected him to play dumb.

  “The rental team is not for you, Jordan,” Grant said. He looked Jordan right in the eye and said, “Trust me. The rental team is not something you want to do.”

  Jordan stared at Grant, not knowing what to say.

  Grant continued, “Promise me, Jordan—and promise Manda, too, right here and now, that you will stay on the gate guards and not join anything else.”

  Jordan was bewildered, but would have agreed to anything Grant said that day. “Yes, sir,” Jordan said.

  “Promise us,” Grant said politely. “Please promise us.”

  “Sure,” Jordan said. He looked Grant right in the eye and said, “I promise, Mr. Matson.”

  Grant breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. Grant had now done what he could to make sure Manda had Jordan around in case Grant didn’t come back.

  Jordan and Manda couldn’t figure out why this promise meant so much to Grant, but they trusted that he knew something they didn’t.

  “In a few months,” Grant said to Jordan as he put his hand on Jordan’s shoulder, “you’ll thank me for this. So will Manda.” And, Grant didn’t say, Manda’s mom will, too.

  Jordan nodded. Grant could tell that all this seriousness was creeping out Jordan and Manda. It was time to have fun again, Grant thought.

  “How fast can you put ten rounds into that tin can?” Grant asked Jordan as he handed him the 10/22.

  In a few seconds they had the answer; pretty damned fast.

  “Nice shootin’,” Grant said to Jordan. This was high praise, and Jordan knew it.

  They went back to the Sparks’ house and Grant made sure to tell Jordan’s dad what a good job Jordan did. Grant pulled Jordan’s parents aside and asked them if it would be OK if Jordan became a gate guard. They were fine with it. They were happy, in fact, to have the youngest gate guard come from their family. They were impressed with how Dan ran the guards and looked after them.

  “Hey, Manda, you remember how to drive, right?” Grant asked.

  “Yeah,” Manda said. “Kinda.” She had taken driver’s education class and had her learner’s permit just when the Collapse hit.

  “I can drive, sir,” Jordan said. He’d had his license for a while before the Collapse.

  Grant realized what an opportunity he had. “OK, Jordan, could you drive me to the gate and then drive Manda home?” Trusting Jordan with his daughter and his car. That was a bonding experience.

  “You bet,” Jordan said. He felt like a man today. Grant handed Jordan the keys. Grant could feel the symbolism in that.

  Chapter 211

  Immigrations Report

  (August 1)

  Jordan drove Grant and Manda to the gate. To give Jordan the full measure of respect, Grant volunteered to ride in the backseat and let Manda sit up front with Jordan where they felt like grownups.

  Jordan wasn’t a perfect driver, but he did OK. It was the first time he’d driven in months. The guards didn’t recognize the Tacura and a few of them slowly shouldered their weapons, but didn’t aim at the car, as they drove up. Jordan felt like a million dollars driving a car, with his girlfriend at his side and Judge Matson sitting in the back seat.

  Jordan slowly brought the car to a halt and then put his hands out the window to show the guards that he was unarmed. That was a good idea so Manda did the same. Grant was impressed that Jordan thought of this. That showed some judgment.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Grant said as he got out of the car. All the guards recognized him and lowered their weapons.

  “How’s it goin’, gentlemen?” Grant asked them. “Hey, is Dan around?”

  Someone ran to get Dan. While they were waiting, Jordan and Manda got out of the car. Jordan knew a few of the guards and was talking with them. They knew his older brother, Jeremy, who was a guard, but working the night shift. Jordan was introducing them to Manda.

  Dan came up and said, “Hey, Grant, nice to see you. What’s going on?”

  Grant pulled Dan over by the car so no one else could hear.

  “Dan, I need to ask you a favor,” he said in a hushed tone.

  “Sure,” Dan said. “What can I do for you?”

  “My daughter’s serious boyfriend,” Grant said pointing toward them, “Jordan Sparks—Jeremy Sparks’ younger brother—said he wants to join the ‘rental team.’”

  Dan rolled his eyes. Young men and their dreams of military glory, he thought. He’d seen it too many times.

  “Well,” Grant continued, “I’m not too keen on that, so I needed to make him a deal to make sure they didn’t elope or some other crazy shit.”

  Dan nodded. His kids were grown up but he remembered worrying about crazy eloping, too.

  “So I told him I would ask you to give him a try out for the gate guards,” Grant said.

  “How old is he?” Dan asked.

  “Seventeen in a couple of days,” Grant answered.

  Dan slowly nodded. “Does he know guns?”

  “Yep,” Grant said. “I went out shooting with him today; .22s. He did fine. He’s been hunting since he was little.”

  “Judgment?” Dan asked. “Does he seem mature?” The last thing they needed was another Ethan out there.

  “Yep,” Grant said. “I trust him with my daughter.”

  “That tells me everything I need to know,” Dan said. He furrowed his brow and said, “You know, he’s a little younger than I’d like so I’m giving him preferential treatment by letting him try out.”

  “Understood and appreciated,” Grant said. “You can create a junior varsity for him if you want. Your call.”

  “OK,” Dan said. “Young Mister Sparks gets a try out. No guarantees, though, that he makes the guard, even if it’s the JV squad.”

  “Also understood,” Grant said. “Thanks, man,” he said as he shook Dan’s hand.

  “No problem,” Dan said. They walked back over to where everyone else was. Dan was talking to Jordan and making arrangements with him for a try out. Jordan and Manda were thrilled.

  Grant saw Al and went over to him, as he had been meaning to talk to him for some time. He wanted to see if any walk-ons were coming by, which he should have done earlier, but he was so tied up with things at Marion Farm.

  “Hey, Al, how’s it going’?” Grant asked. They shook hands.

  “Pretty good,” Al said. “What brings you here?”

  “Needed to talk to Dan about a try out for a young man,” Grant said. “So, how are things going with immigrations?”

  “Good,” Al said with pride. He knew he had been doing a great job at the hard, and often unrecognized, task of screening people wanting to come in. He was glad that people like Grant recognized the importance of the job.

  “How many new people recently?” Grant asked Al.

  “Four,” Al said. He looked at this clipboard. “A family of four. The dad is an Army medic who’s AWOL. The mom is a mom with two little kids, who are adorable. They’re Mormon, so a Mormon family here took them in.”

  “How did they get out here?” Grant asked. If they were Mormon, they presumably had lots of contacts who would take them in. This made Grant curious why they chose Pierce Point.

  “They’re from Utah, believe it or not,” Al said with a smile. “He was at Ft. Lewis and said things were too hairy there for him and his family so they left. They came out to some Mormon family in Frederickson, but that family was gone from their home. Just vanished. He said things were getting pretty rough in town, especially for Mormons. People in town were saying that the Mormons had food stored up, so the m
edic and his family left and were heading here to meet up with the Mintons here, when their car broke down.”

  “An Army medic, huh?” Grant said, trying to hide his obvious joy at this find. “When did they get here?”

  “About two days ago,” Al said. Grant realized he should have been on top of this. He was slacking. He needed to step up his game. There was a war going on. Important things were happening, and at a quickening pace. Grant needed to treat his Pierce Point job more seriously. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

  “Where are they now?” Grant asked. Al told him where the Mintons lived.

  “I left a note for you up at the Grange,” Al said. Grant hadn’t had time to read it. That made him wonder how many other important Pierce Point matters had been slipping through the cracks.

  Al lowered his voice and said, “This medic guy, Nick Folsom, would be great for the rental team. A no-brainer.”

  “Al, I have been too busy to tend to this properly,” Grant said. “But that’s going to change. When you get a perfect,” Grant looked around to make sure no one was listening, “rental team candidate, have Dan get me on the radio. I need to come down here and meet them. I can take care of the hand-off to the rental team, personally.”

  Al nodded. “We spend most of our time turning people away; probably a hundred so far. They don’t have skills. We spend a lot of time interviewing them. We try to detect BS stories, like this one guy who claimed he was a machinist. We got a guy here who is a real machinist and could tell in five seconds that this other guy was making it up. One other guy claimed he was a dentist. He didn’t know what a ‘molar’ was when I asked him.”

  Al looked out at the gate and said, “The hardest part is the kids. Families will come here with little kids. We have to turn them away. We feed them and give them water to take with them. We treated one little girl’s dislocated arm and then we sent them on their way.”

  “Are people showing up hungry?” Grant asked.

  “Kind of,” Al said. “Not starving. Hungry, maybe in the sense that they haven’t eaten in a day or two, but that’s pretty rare. They’re traveling, so it’s harder to eat on the road. There are no restaurants anymore. There is a soup kitchen at a church in Frederickson. So if you’re in town for a while, you can eat. But not on the road so much. Most of the people we’re seeing have food in their vehicles.”

  “So they’re coming by vehicle, not on foot,” Grant asked.

  “Yep,” Al said. “There have been a couple people just walking down the road. One was a hippie chick—bad idea to be a female alone out here, but it’s her life. The other was a deranged homeless guy. Everyone else comes in cars. They stop at the gate to see if we have gas to sell, which we don’t. Surprisingly, lots of them stop to use the bathroom. We don’t want to go through all the hassles of bringing them in the gate if we don’t have to, so we hand them toilet paper and show them the bushes. They thank us profusely for the toilet paper.” Another thing modern Americans took for granted before the Collapse.

  Al thought some more. “A few people, like the Folsoms, have their vehicles break down and walk up. We try to help them fix their vehicles, but only if we can. We’re not diverting a group of our guards to go walk a few miles down the road with some wrenches to find out that a computer in their engine is shot.”

  “How many broken down vehicles are you seeing?” Grant asked.

  “A handful,” Al said. “There is almost no traffic on the road anymore. A couple vehicles an hour. Nothing like it used to be before all of this.”

  “You keep up on any epidemics, right?” Grant asked. “I mean if there’s some disease going around, you’re ready to screen people coming in for that?”

  Al nodded. “I’m no doctor, but we have a plan for that. There’s always a medical person here at the fire station. We have a little quarantine area and are working on having a bigger quarantine area inside the gate for more people. We’ll be using a couple of parked RVs for that. They’re the perfect for quarantines.”

  “Good,” Grant said. Disease was a big concern, and would especially be so when winter arrived. Grant didn’t want to think about how bad it would be then. He knew that disease killed more people than bullets in conditions like the Collapse.

  Grant shook Al’s hand. He had a medic to go recruit.

  Chapter 212

  Your Country — the Real One — Needs Your Help

  (August 1)

  Grant went over to Jordan and Manda, who were chatting with the younger guards. “Time to go, guys,” Grant said. He threw Jordan the keys and Jordan grinned. All his friends thought that was very cool.

  Grant opened the front passenger door for Manda. “Thank you, Daddy,” she said. He was treating her like royalty today. She deserved it. And Grant may not have much more time with her. At a minimum, he’d be very busy. At worst…he wouldn’t be around at all. He wanted to get as much good times in with her as possible.

  Grant got in the back seat and told Jordan they had to go visit someone on the way back. Grant told Jordan how to get to the Minton house where the Folsoms were staying. Al had thoughtfully drawn Grant a map, which he gave to Jordan to see if he could read a map. It was another test that Jordan passed.

  The family that the Folsoms were staying with had a nice house. A dog was barking and a middle-aged man came out with a shotgun. Grant didn’t recognize him, but the man recognized Grant.

  “Judge Matson, what can we do for you?” the man asked as he lowered the shotgun.

  “Could I talk to Nick Folsom?” Grant asked.

  “Sure,” the man said. A minute later, a young guy in his early twenties came out. He had black hair and was average looking in every way.

  “I’m Nick Folsom,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  The middle-aged man also came out and said, “We have some lunch for you if you’d like.” Perfect, Grant thought. It was always easier to get to know someone over a meal, and Grant needed to get to know Nick quickly and make some key decisions about him. Besides, Grant was hungry.

  “Sure,” Grant said. “Mind if my daughter and her boyfriend join us?”

  “No problem,” the man said. He extended his hand, “I’m Jay Minton.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jay,” Grant said. “I’m Grant Matson.”

  “Oh, we know,” Jay said. “We’ve been to some of the Grange meetings.” Grant felt like a mini-celebrity. His first thought was that any credibility he had from his Grange work could be used to recruit Nick into the unit out at Marion Farm.

  The families assembled for lunch, which consisted of sandwiches on homemade bread. They were really good. The Folsom babies, ages one and two, had just gone to sleep. Nick’s wife, Rita, looked tired. She looked young to be a mom. Then again, Nick looked young to be a dad.

  They made small talk. The Mintons had been in Pierce Point for about five years. They had moved here from Colorado. Jay’s job as a store manager took him to this area. He used to work in Olympia at the mall, but his store closed about a year ago. They had been living a simple life since then. They had enough to eat and did OK, but it was definitely a much less extravagant life than before the Collapse. They were getting by in a different way than they were used to, but getting by. Grant didn’t ask, but he suspected the Mintons were living on the one year worth of food Mormons were supposed to store up.

  In the course of the small talk, Grant had a favorable impression of Nick. He was a young guy who joined the military to get some college money. He went into the combat medic field because he wanted to go medical school, but the Collapse ended that. That gave Nick a personal motive to get things back to normal, Grant thought. Nick’s dreams had been destroyed.

  Grant wanted to know two things about Nick. First, his politics. Given that he was Mormon and in the military, the odds were pretty good that he wasn’t a socialist. Second, would Rita let him go off to war? That was a biggie. Grant could relate to that.

  “So, what do you guys think about this who
le situation, if you don’t mind me asking,” Grant inquired after a while. He didn’t have all day to beat around the bush about politics.

  “Totally predictable,” Jay said about the current situation. He described all the insane regulations and taxes imposed on his store before the Collapse. He described how the police wouldn’t do a thing about the ever-increasing shoplifting. Then it became violent crime in the parking lot of the mall. Pretty soon, it became too dangerous for his employees to go to work.

  “I realized about a year ago that this was absolutely inevitable,” Jay said. “So we…” Jay paused. He didn’t want to say how prepared they were and how much food they had.

  “…did some commonsense things,” Jay said. “Glad we did.”

  “What do you think will happen next?” Grant asked. Jay was silent. He didn’t want to say it. Neither did Nick.

  Fair enough, Grant thought. He walked into their house and was asking them if they were waiting for a revolution. He recognized that he needed to respect their privacy a little more.

  “Well,” Grant said, “I think there is going to be armed trouble.” That got their attention. They were thinking the same thing. Grant knew there were two directions to take the “armed trouble” talk. So he chose the safe route.

  “You know, gangs,” Grant said. “That’s why we have a pretty amazing gate guard and a beach patrol. And our internal SWAT team, which I’m fortunate enough to be a nominal member of. I’m the old guy they let hang out with them.” That got a few smiles. Grant was warming them up to the topic of “armed trouble.” The topic of gangs was always the way to ease into the topic of fighting the government. If people accepted that fighting was necessary because of the gangs, the next logical step was fighting the biggest gang of all: the government.

  “Nick, what did you see at Ft. Lewis?” Grant asked. He was cutting to the chase. Normally, he would have taken a few visits to get to this topic. But he didn’t have time. He didn’t want Nick to get too settled into the Minton house. And he needed a military medic out at Marion Farm right then.