I radioed Eddy, “Bring up the truck fast, we got wounded here.”
Eddy came zooming up and almost ran us over. Jumping out of the truck, he ran over to see who was hurt and started to sob when he saw Big Dan dead. He asked, “What happened?”
Only Mike knew what happened and he did not reply. Sammy was in pain and shock and didn’t speak one word. He was going to pass out from the loss of blood. Eddy tied a rope around his arm right above the wound to stop the blood flow.
We loaded Sammy and Big Dan’s body into the back of the truck. It was a sad day, the first time anyone in our compound had been killed.
I asked Mike, “What the hell happened? How did those guys sneak up on you?”
Mike answered, “I have no excuse. We were playing cards and were tired. Dan had a bottle of whiskey and we all had a few drinks. We were listening to music. You know how boring it is doing guard duty.”
I gave him a disgusted look and radioed to our HQ, “We are on the way back. Sammy is wounded with a bullet through the arm and Dan is dead. Have Doc and Amy ready to treat Sammy.”
A long time ago Big Dan was married but his wife died in a car accident. They had no kids so Dan had no one to call family but us, his friends. He moved here from Ohio where he sold cars. We would honor him for his sacrifice.
Mike wanted to resign as a team leader and leave security altogether.
He told me, “I need to step down. I feel so bad about Dan.”
I said, “Mike, listen to me, you are a good man; you made a mistake but it was not all your fault. I believe that when your time’s up, it’s up. We need your skill and leadership, it’s imperative to our security. You are a key man and I think you will be more careful in the future. This is life and death here, just like being in a war. Hell, you could get killed from a snake bite. I don’t need to preach to you, a 20-year Army vet. I just ask that you handle Big Dan’s funeral and bury him at sea. First, get back to work by picking two replacement men then get back to the bridge asap because as we have no guards there now. Also dump the scumbags’ bodies into shark channel.”
The shark channel is what we call the water that flows between the two islands because if you try to swim across it most likely Bull sharks will attack you. Bull sharks are the most aggressive sharks around, they’re even worse than Mako and Great Whites. I know of at least three people that have died swimming in that water.
Speaking of snakes, we had rattlesnakes and rats everywhere. Sometimes if we saw a snake we’d kill it, skin it, gut it and eat it. You have to be careful when cutting off the head not to let the fangs touch you or it could mean death. You need to take the head and throw it in the deep water or bury it so no one else comes in contact with this demon. It tastes like chicken. Yummy! Snakes are good to have around as they eat the rats and mice, so we don’t kill many.
A while back I killed two snakes that somehow got onto my patio. We have little Pigmy rattlesnakes, which have no rattle and are about 12 inches long but resemble a big rattlesnake. When I first saw the snakes they looked like sticks lying there and were not moving. I looked closer and they coiled up and struck at me. Only poisonous snakes do that. So I took my flat-bladed shovel, cut off their heads and threw them in the water. I worry about my wife and little dogs. The dogs do go after snakes when they see them but not close enough to get bit.
Big Dan had a short funeral with a 21-gun salute the same day. We need to get rid of bodies fast here, with the oppressive heat, as we don’t have freezers big enough to store bodies. Mike started out the funeral talking about Dan; they had been friends for 20 years, like most of us living here. Then others stood and told their own, sometimes funny stories of times they had spent with Dan. Dan was covered with an American flag as he was a true American patriot. Everyone was there except for the sixteen people who were on guard duty. Most of us cried as we put his body on the boat to be buried at sea, as was his wish. Robbie and Eddy took him out to sea about a mile, weighted down the body with concrete blocks, and slid him overboard with a prayer.
Everyone is buried at sea here because we have no room for a cemetery and don’t want dead bodies buried near us. The coyotes will dig them up and eat them. Coyotes pose a danger. They came here in the year 2000. They are fast, smart and eat anything, even people, but they usually try to make easy kills of rabbits, cats and dogs. We try to shoot them on sight but they are elusive and roam mainly at night. One ran down the middle of the street in broad daylight the other day and it went by so fast most people didn’t see it.
Tommy, Robbie, and I went back to the main bridge after the funeral. It was about 2 pm and so hot you could cook an egg on the blacktop road. You always sweat here; there is little relief from the heat and sun. Your clothes stick to you and are drenched in sweat. You find some shade and try to stay cool. The slightest breeze is a welcome relief.
To my surprise Rick was not there but Bill was, with nine security people. Bill is the Association’s Secretary and not much of a fighter because he is too clumsy. He used to be a computer programmer. He even has trouble loading a gun, but he can shoot one fairly well. He has a good eye.
I asked Bill, “Where is Rick?”
“Rick went home. He did not feel well and ask me to take over. Nothing has happened here, all is quiet,” Bill replied.
I said, “Thank God. Have you seen any gang members?”
Bill answered, “Yes, a few came down the road in a car but did not challenge us; they stopped about 300 yards down the road and then drove away. Maybe they decided to leave this area altogether.”
“I have only slept one hour in the past two days. I am tired, hungry, and need a garden hose shower. If anything happens, radio me,” I told Bill.
“Tommy and Robbie, you coming with me?”
Tommy said, “Yeah, Dad, we need to discuss our next action plan.”
I replied, “After I eat, shower and have one of Eddie’s beers.”
Robbie said, “How about we come over around 6 pm? I’ll go tell the rest of the Board to meet at 6:30 pm in the bar.”
“Ok with me,” Tommy said.
I replied, “Ditto.”
I went back to my home and my wife, Hemmi, cooked up some fried fish and made a salad with fruit, and green beans, all grown right here. I ate four fish fillets and drank four beers. Even warm beer tastes good. You get use to it.
Hemmi is an excellent cook and also a great shot. She shoots her Ruger 22 caliber flat slab stainless steel, six-inch barrel target pistol, with a red dot scope. She can hit a golf ball almost every time at 50 yards.
Hemmi asked, “Everything ok now? I was worried about you not eating and being gone so long. What I am going to do if you get killed like Dan?”
“Honey don’t worry, I am not going to get killed if I can help it,” I replied, in an effort to put her at ease.
I gave her a little kiss on the cheek and asked, “What did you do today?”
“Nothing new, just picked lettuce, fruit, and cleaned fish for dinner. Oh, I helped Doc Scott and Amy fix up Sammy at the clinic. That was intense but he will be fine. It was a clean hole through his arm. He may lose some movement, however.”
I commented, “Well, at least he is alive and he will be relieved from security duty for a few weeks, but his wife won’t be happy having him around the house all day.”
We both laughed at that comment.
I never let Hemmi take security guard duty as she has no experience in gun battles; she does not have the proper training. But if she had to, Hemmi would kill to protect our family.
Most of the time Hemmi hangs around with Amy; they either work at the medical clinic, garden, or are busy cooking a meal for the family. They tend to the more or less everyday life necessities, as well as spend time teaching the small number of kids we have here, the youngest being ten years old. We have three teachers who instruct the kids on freedom, the Bill of Rights and the Constitution. In addition, we teach them reading, writing, math, history, fishing, hunting and farm
ing. An old-fashioned education never hurt anyone.
We do have some good points besides the sun and clean air; for one thing, food is fairly easy to obtain. We have orange, lemon, grapefruit, avocado, and coconut trees, which yield a lot of fruit for about six months out of the year. We have many gardens and grow all varieties of vegetables, enough to feed everyone here and more. Great fishing is right off shore, or further out in a boat if you want bigger fish. You name it, we fish it. We have 20 fulltime fishermen, as we need about a pound of fish per person a day. For 500 people this is 500 pounds, meaning each man needs to bring in 25 pounds a day. Actually, it is not so hard to catch 25 pounds of fish as one grouper is usually up to 30 pounds. King fish and snapper can run 15 pounds. We smoke fish and grill it over an open fire. We have rabbits, squirrels, and birds to eat. The only bird I like is dove and we have a lot of them, for some reason. They taste like chicken.
Speaking of chicken, one day a chicken farmer arrived in a truck loaded with chickens and the necessary equipment to build a hen house. He also had a couple of roosters for breeding. He asked if he could join our group and in turn he would supply us eggs and chickens. This chicken farmer loves his chickens. The chicken farm is located in NO MAN’S LAND as the birds make a lot of noise and need room. Chickens can be dangerous. Close contact with them brought about the bird flu years ago in China. People living and eating with a bunch of chicken excrement nearby is not healthy. Now we eat eggs almost every day and sometimes a fried chicken. We draw numbers to see who the lucky ones are that get the chicken. The coyotes are always after the chickens so the pen is guarded.
I told Hemmi, “I’ve got a 6:30 meeting.”
Just then Robbie and Tommy walked in and asked, “You ready to go?”
I put my Glock in my hostler, grabbed my AR 15, and kissed Hemmi goodbye saying, “See you later, I will be home tonight.”
My decision was to leave the gang alone for now. The gang just lost another eight men, bringing their force down to 20 or 22 people. They had no food and sooner or later they would have to give up and leave for greener pastures. I explained this to Tommy and Robbie and they agreed with me. The plan would be do nothing for now. We just lost one man and one was wounded, we needed to rest.
Tommy replied, “Today we can recuperate but tomorrow I want to do another recon to verify if they are still there.”
I thought, Oh no! I remained quiet as did Robbie while we drove to the meeting.
Everyone was at the meeting except Rick.
I asked, “Anyone seen Rick?”
Doc Scott answered, “Rick is sick, he was a fever, I think he has malaria so you are in charge for now.”
“I had malaria, or may still have it. Give him some quinine water and that will put the bug into remission,” I told the Doc.
“Really, that will cure him?”
“No, it will not cure him but he will feel better right away and it may save his life. Make sure he drinks a quart of it.”
The Doc left the meeting to search for tonic water. Doc Scott is a trauma surgeon and good at fixing bullet wounds and broken body parts, but not good at diagnosing a disease.
Bugs are everywhere and at night we are eaten up by the mosquitoes. There are 3,500 different species of mosquitoes. They can carry all kinds of nasty bugs that will kill us if not treated. Years ago I did contract malaria when I went to Southern China. The mosquitoes bit me and about a week later I started feeling like I had a fever. My muscles and joints ached. I went to the Mayo Clinic and they confirmed that I had a low level case of malaria, a less dangerous strain. To combat malaria you need to drink quinine, also called tonic water. For some reason this puts the disease into remission. When it comes back you drink some gin and tonic. You need to drink about a quart of tonic water to get it back into remission. The British discovered the use of quinine in the late 1890s; hence, when stationed in an area with a malaria problem they would drink a gin and tonic every day.
In the old days the county would spray to kill the little bloodsuckers, but not anymore. They can drive a man nuts buzzing around looking for a tender place to suck blood. You need to wear long-sleeve shirts, pants, and a hat with netting to protect your face. Everyone gets bit. Standing water puddles are their breeding sites. To keep them at bay at night we start wood fires and the smoke helps. Problem is the smoke gives me a bad headache. I go to my screened-in porch and sleep there free from bugs and snakes. It is cooler than sleeping in the house.
“I call this meeting to order,” I said. “We will discuss what actions we should take against the so-called gang. Does anyone have a suggestion or idea?”
Bob asked me, “Whatever happened to the Rangers?”
“I don’t know, maybe they were delayed. We can’t count on the Rangers for help, so it’s up to us.”
Tommy jumped in saying, “I propose we do nothing tonight, just keep our guard up and everyone stay at the ready. Tomorrow night I will do another recon but I need a volunteer to go with me. My Dad has done enough. I need someone young, fresh and ready to go.”
Anyone can attend the meeting and speak up at anytime. From near the door a voice called out, “I will go with you, Tommy.”
It was Carlos. He came here from Puerto Rico years ago and was in the Army for four years.
Tommy said, “Great, then it is Carlos and me.”
My son-in-law, Jim added, “I’ll go too, you may need extra eyes.”
“Great,” Tommy said. “Jim, Carlos, and I will make up the team.”
I stated, “With no further business, the meeting is adjourned. Beers for everyone.”
Jim is a great shot. He pulls guard duty but his main job is making repairs to equipment, cars, boats—you name it, Jim can fix it. Everyone relies on him as our Mr. Fix-it. I am lucky to have such a great son-in-law. I call him Jim Bo.
I know Carlos and he is a good, brave man. He is Catholic, loves God, and prays continuously. He and his wife Sandy are freedom lovers and hate when the government tells you what to do. I was ok with Carlos going with Tommy, but I also had another idea which may be better.
I will tell them about my new idea later as I need to rest now.
APRIL 20, 2025
The sun is up and it is another hot day. Hemmi cooked me eggs with smoked fish and cut up some oranges. Simple, but good, healthy food. I put on my bulletproof vest, my Kydex hostler, and Glock. I grabbed my AR 15 9mm carbine and an AR 15 H bar rifle chambered for 5.56 NATO rounds with a 4X lowlight scope. It is good for 500 yards.
My wife asked, “What are you doing today?”
I told her, “We have another recon tonight. Tommy, Jim, and Carlos…maybe I will go along. But I’ve got to go to the bridge now, see you later.”
She commented as I walked out the door, “Be safe you big dope!”
“A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. Bye, I love ya,” I said softly as the back door closed behind me.
As I approached the bridge everyone was looking down the road, with ten men on guard duty. Jeff was in charge overnight. The guard had just changed at 7 am, but some of the guys still hung around and were also looking down the road.
I asked Jeff, the team leader, “What’s going on?”
Then I looked down the road and saw a car about 100 yards away. That’s what everyone was watching. I asked out loud to anyone, “How long has that been there?”
Plumber Greg said, “It came sometime in the night, no one saw it approach.”
I said, “Is everyone blind, sleeping or what? How can you let a car sneak up and get that close?” This car would throw a whammy at the recon for tonight unless we learned more about it.
No need to tell you what Greg the Plumber does. He is a good person and helps anyone with plumbing problems, from fixing broken water lines to unclogging drains. He has no military experience and sometimes makes quick decisions and judgments that could put him and others in danger. Greg is a hard worker and you can trust him to get any job done, plus he keeps his word.
Greg replied, “Duh, you think so?”
No one here knows much about explosives. This was a dangerous situation. I looked at the car through my rifle scope trying to discern wires or telltale signs of a bomb. It appeared to be just an empty car. I thought, This seems to be a Trojan horse, we need to be careful.
I radioed Tommy, “Wake up and bring the Cobb 50 to the bridge right away, we have a situation.”
“Yes, Sir, be right there,” Tommy replied.
Twenty minutes later Tommy arrived with the Cobb and saw the problem. The car’s motor was pointed directly at us. I said, “Tommy that could be a car bomb. What do we do about it?”
Tommy said, “I can shoot that car from here and start it on fire. If there are any explosives in it the fire will cause them to go off.”
I said, “Great, start shooting.”
If we didn’t get rid of this car it would render our recon by land impossible and we might have to conduct it by boat, which is risky because any time you are on the water you are an easy target.
Tommy chambered a round into the Cobb.
The Cobb 50 BMG is a 50-caliber rifle, shooting a Browning machine gun round that can go through steel, even an engine block. It can enter through one side of a car, come out the other side, and kill someone. The BMG has a muzzle velocity of 1,900 miles per hour or 2, 800 feet per second. The BMG bullet is ½ inch in diameter and nearly four inches long. I call it the Superman Bullet. The Cobb is a semi automatic rifle, built just like an AR 15 but bigger and has a ten round magazine.
TOCABAGA (Revised Edition) (Book #1 of The Tocabaga Chronicles) Page 5