by Reed, N. C.
“Yeah,” Greg sighed. “Makes you long for the good old days.” He rummaged through the desk and then the filing cabinets. Gordy could hear Greg muttering to himself but didn’t turn to look. While the jail seemed empty, looks could be deceiving.
“Okay, let’s go,” Greg said. Gordy turned to see Greg moving toward him while carrying a black canvas bag with SHERIFF emblazed on it in tall white letters.
“What now?” Gordy asked.
“Evidence locker,” Greg told him. “There may be some things in there we’d like to have. Also, we kept our ammunition in there since it was secure. If Peyton didn’t hand it out, then there’s likely a good little stash in there.”
“Awesome,” Gordy whispered. The two moved back the way they had come, then branched off the main hallway to a trio of doors. One was a meeting room, another labeled as a locker room. The third had no name and had a far heavier door.
“Nice door,” Gordy remarked.
“Yeah,” Greg nodded, looking for the key on his ring. “Funny thing is, it’s just the door. No one knows it, but the walls around this room are just plain old sheetrock walls. A determined intruder could get inside there with little difficulty.”
“That seems kind of senseless,” Gordy mentioned.
“Welcome to government operations, kid,” Greg snorted as he finally found the key. Inserting it in the lock, he turned it a complete revolution before Gordy heard the lock disengage.
“They didn’t scrimp on the lock,” Greg laughed, opening the door. The two stepped inside and Gordy got his first look at an evidence locker. There was a rack of long guns, several handguns with tags on them and….
“Dude, is that a sword?” Gordy asked, his voice betraying his incredulity.
“It is indeed,” Greg nodded without looking up. “Taken from a guy chasing his drug dealer down the road for shorting him on a deal. Damn thing is the real deal, too. I just assumed it was some kind of display thing or a reproduction, but it’s apparently the genuine article. Japanese katana, I think is the word. You see them on television a lot.”
“Wow,” he finally said. “You guys end up taking some weird stuff from people, man.”
“You have no idea,” Greg agreed. Moving to the back, he clapped his hands together.
“Yes!” Sitting in front of him were several boxes of ammunition. Around him, the shelves were filled with tagged firearms and edged weapons.
“Go get Heath,” he told Gordy. “Tell Zach to back the rig into the door as close as he can. We need to hurry. We need to take this stuff if we have to sit on it on the way home.”
“Got it.”
-
“The trucks are carrying as much as we can safely load on them, sir,” Flores reported. “We did find one trailer that will hitch behind one of the trucks, and we are currently loading paint and brushes along with other supplies on it. I estimate we will be finished with it in ten minutes or so. After that, we can move on your say so.”
“That sounds fine, Lieutenant,” Adcock nodded. “Let me know when we’re ready to move.”
“Sir,” she nodded before returning to her detail.
“Looks like you managed to get the starch out of her uniform for a little while, anyway,” Clay mentioned.
“I still don’t understand what’s driving her,” Adcock admitted. “She’s not been like this a single time before.”
“Well, she-,” Clay stopped as his Hummer returned, pulling into the parking lot and right up to where he stood. Zach had the turret aiming toward the rear, but the men inside showed no signs of being followed.
“You guys okay?” Clay asked as Greg got out of the front passenger seat.
“Never better,” Greg nodded. “You guys about finished?”
“Just on the edge of it, yeah,” Clay nodded.
“Got back just in time, then,” Greg smiled. “We’ll just wait in the car, dad,” he slapped Clay’s shoulder before sliding into the back seat of the Hummer.
“You guys known each other long?” Adcock was grinning.
“Grew up together,” Clay nodded. “The two of us and Jake Sidell, the man whose shop you guys use as a campsite over on the interstate, went everywhere together. Painted that water tower, among others,” he pointed to the tower in the distance. Adcock looked at it a minute before taking a small pair of binoculars from his gear and focusing on the tower.
“Does that say Katie?” he asked finally. “With a heart over the letter ‘I’?”
“Yup,” Clay nodded. “Got the idea from that Joe Diffie song. John Deere Green really does show through just about everything.”
CHAPTER THREE
Construction began the next day since the weather was pleasant and holding. Layouts were done for two barracks buildings, one for the soldiers to the east of the Troy farmhouse, and one on the hill, to the west of the square. That dorm would be constructed as a two-story defensive position, with blockhouse style corner towers featuring second story cutouts for rifles. The building would also be given a second outer wall made of roughhewn four-by-four logs cut to size by the wilderness sawmill.
To the east of the square of buildings on the hill, a series of six new cabins were also staked out. The four room cabins would feature three bedrooms and a sitting room. Tenants of those cabins would use the facilities in the square for their personal needs. Occupancy for those cabins had not yet been assigned.
A single cabin was being constructed on the old Troy farm, not far from the main buildings, for Evelyn Lacey. The Goat Lady, as she was now known, needed room to work, and to be near to her animals. The cabin would be outside the of the main pasture and allow roughly five acres for her goats to roam and graze. The cabin would give her room to work as well as have room for her two dogs when it was necessary to bring them inside. Allowing her the cabin as both living quarters and workspace eliminated the need for providing her with a workshop somewhere else. The fencing panels saved from her old home would serve as a night pen to help protect the goats from predators and would also contain a small barn built just for them.
Ronny had already leveled the ground where the buildings were going to be erected, so once the lines were run and the stakes driven, it was time to start. Normally, they would have used small gravel to produce a level ground effect and provide extra stability, but that wasn’t possible now. Instead they would use crushed limestone, which the Sanders’ land had in abundance. Once the limestone was leveled across the base of each new building site, water was sprayed over it very lightly, which would cause the limestone to harden slightly and hold together. By the time they were finished with the last cabin, the initial work on the soldier’s barracks was already dry and ready for construction to begin.
It was at times like this that Clayton realized how much the loss of Franklin George really hurt the farm. The old man had been cantankerous, but he was an excellent carpenter and knew how to build a fireplace as well. Constructing a fireplace that would draw well was almost a lost art. Two of Adcock’s men had some limited experience in the field, and Clay hoped that would be enough, as he himself knew nothing at all about laying rock or building a working chimney.
The soldier barracks would feature two rooms at the front of the building and two more at the rear. The rest of the building would be a true dorm, with cots or perhaps merely sleeping bags on the floor for the soldiers to sleep in. The rooms to the front would be for Sergeant Gleason and for use by visiting officers, in this case primarily Lieutenant Flores, while the rear two would be used for storage, and to give the soldiers a room to gather and play cards or other games, and pass the time.
The dorm on the hill would be for the young women who had completed their initial training and wanted to serve as part of the defense for the farm. This would free up the space that had been vacated to give them room initially, including the bunkhouse that had originally been constructed for the guys. Between the new dorms and the new cabins added to the hilltop community, the decision was made that there wo
uld be no future additions to the square, as their facilities were stretched as far as possible.
The lady’s dorm, as it was immediately dubbed, would have two storage rooms on the ground floor, but otherwise be an open dorm. The upper floor would have the blockhouse towers and serve as a defensive platform, but also give the young women some recreational space to themselves.
Had the farm tried to do all this alone, it would have taken weeks and been winter before they were finished. With over fifty soldiers assisting, some of them with at least some experience in construction, things moved much faster.
“Reminds me of that group that builds houses and stuff,” Mitchell Nolan mused as he took a break. “Remember the one? Where was it again?”
“Cote d’ Ivoire,” Tandi replied before taking a long pull from his water bottle.
“Yeah, that was it,” Mitchell snapped his fingers. “I wonder how they’re making out. I mean after the lights went out and all.”
“They didn’t have any lights to begin with as I recall,” Tandi was shaking his head slowly. “A generator they ran ever so sparingly for the clinic and the radio. Nothing else. I suppose they should be doing as well as they ever did unless someone new moved into the area. We didn’t leave anyone behind to give them trouble.”
“Where was this?” Adcock’s voice came from behind them, the Captain having slipped up behind them as they relaxed.
“Just a village we were talking about,” Mitchell shook his head negligibly.
“Doubt you’ve heard of it,” Tandi agreed. “C’mon, man,” he nudged Mitchell. “We need to get back to work.”
“Coming,” Mitchell replaced his own bottle and hurried to catch up to the medic as they returned to help with the building.
“Something I can help you with, Captain?” It was Adcock’s turn to be surprised as Clay walked right up behind him.
“No, just overheard them talking about someplace they had been before,” Adcock shook his head. “Of course, they’re all about as forthcoming as you are with information like that,” he snorted.
“Any of us asked where you’ve served?” Clay asked, though not in a challenging way.
“No, you haven’t,” Adcock agreed. “I get it. Off limits conversation. Can’t help but be curious, that’s all.”
“There’s nothing you don’t already know about us that would help you, Captain,” Clay said formally.
“Well, there had to be a reason someone suggested you train the new recruits,” Adcock replied. “That’s not something you just toss out there to random people.”
“No, it isn’t,” Clay agreed. “And you already knew we were training our own people here, as I recall. Just like Dawson is in Jordan, for that matter. We aren’t going to turn just anyone loose with a firearm.”
“Clearly not,” Adcock nodded. “You’re running a very streamlined organization here, Clay. It’s one reason I wanted to work more closely with your group. There are plenty of survivalists out there running around dressed like mall ninjas. A lot of bark and not much bite, for the most part. Those who do have some bite only have it because they had the money before things went to hell to invest in a lot of impressive hardware and plenty of ammo. A lot of them should have bought more food, I think, but none of them seem to be starving, so far.”
“Sounds somewhat like the group from Huntsville,” Clay mentioned. “They had a good, solid setup, but wasted it. Misused their resources and ended up as nothing better than bandits.”
“Yeah, Dawson showed us where they had planted them all,” Adcock said slowly. “He mentioned that your group did most of the heavy lifting.”
“Did he?” Clay laughed slightly. “That would be the first compliment he’s paid us in some time, I imagine. But he’s right in saying that. We did.”
“There aren’t many groups around that have their own armored vehicles,” Adcock noted.
“I suspect not,” Clay said calmly. “One of my late friends had an in with a surplus dealer. We bought them through him.”
“I don’t imagine he sold you that M2.”
“If there’s something on your mind, Captain, just say so,” Clay said easily. Too easily for Adcock’s peace of mind.
“Nothing on my mind so much,” he shrugged. “Just making small talk.”
“I suggest we change the subject,” Clay smiled. “Isn’t this weather nice?”
-
Gordy watched Flores running around, snapping out orders even though she knew next to nothing about what was going on, and shook his head. He and Zach were unloading a stack of four-by-four boards they had sawed to go on the outside of the lady’s dorm.
“She really thinks she’s all that, don’t she?” Zach mentioned, wiping the sweat off his brow with his shirt.
“Don’t she though,” Gordy replied with a nod. “She gave me and Greg hell in the hardware store, wanting to know what we were doing and what we were getting. Greg reminded her that he was probably the only lawman left in the county, which made him the senior civil law enforcement officer around. They’re supposed to be supporting the civil authority, not ordering them around. He said she might be bucking for a promotion, though how that would work I got no idea.”
“Whatever she wants, she thinks yelling is the way to get it,” Zach chuckled. “Got some impressive lungs on her, I’ll give her that. Hear her screeching all over the farm.”
“Who?” Vicki Tully’s voice came from behind them. The two teens were long since over being jumpy and merely turned to look at her.
“Hey, Vic,” Gordy grinned. “We were just talking about the General over there,” he jerked a thumb in Flores’ direction.
“Yeah,” Vicki looked as if she’d bitten into something sour. “She’s something else, alright. She seemed okay at first, I thought, but I honestly haven’t been around her much.”
“Clay said the same thing,” Zach told her before Gordy could. “Seems like maybe three days ago, she had a change of attitude. No one seems to know why. Maybe she’s trying to impress somebody?”
“There’s nobody to impress anymore,” Vicki shrugged. “From what little I’ve heard the others say, most of the command structure didn’t make it out of Nashville. Tried to ride it out there, for whatever reason, and disappeared. I’m sure there are other pockets like theirs around the state, and around the region for that matter, but without communications, it will take years to have any real organization back. It will be slower as we run out of gas or as the working vehicles we still have begin to break down. Once we’re riding horses as our primary method of transport, you can forget any kind of real cohesion. Damn shame,” she shook her head slowly. “With just a little initiative, they could have saved most of the gear and had everyone assembled before the lights went out. What a waste.”
“Any of them said anything to you about going with them?” Gordy asked.
“No, and there’s no reason to,” she replied at once. “This is where I belong, and where I intend to stay. That crowd won’t treat me half as well as you all do. This is home for me, now.”
“Good,” Gordy smiled. “We’d miss you.”
“Absolutely,” Zach agreed, still watching Flores hound her subordinates. “And I can’t blame you for not wanting to be part of that,” he jerked a thumb toward the group once more as he turned to face her. She was studying him closely, as if trying to gauge if his words had more meaning than they appeared.
“Well, we better get back,” Gordy said into the silence. “It’s just us and Titus, and we got a long way to go still. They want enough of these,” he slapped the beams, “to surround this place.”
“Makes a good defensive barrier when you add it to the rest,” Vicki agreed. “You guys be careful.”
“You too.”
-
“What’s the deal between you two, man?” Gordy asked once he and Zach were on their way back to the sawmill.
“What do you mean?” Zach asked.
“Well, sometimes it seems like you tw
o are right on the edge of maybe making up, and others it seems as if you barely know one another.”
“Don’t know what to tell you, man,” Zach shrugged. “This was on her, far as I’m concerned. She kept pushing me, wanting me to have a breakdown or something because I had to shoot people or whatever, and I wasn’t having one, so she just pushed harder. Said she was trying to ‘help’ me,” he made an air quote. “Only I didn’t think I needed any help, so that just confused the shit out of me, and she wouldn’t give me a straight answer and, well, I finally had enough, man.”
“I can see where that’s a problem,” Gordy agreed. “I take it you tried to talk it out?”
“More than once,” Zach nodded. “It was always a circle, coming back to she wanted the truth, and wanted to help me. I told her the truth and that seemed to just make her that much more determined that I needed help. It got to where it was constant, man. Even on the little free time we had, it never let up. I don’t need that kind of shit, man. I really don’t.”
“And what was this terrible truth?” Gordy asked.
“That it didn’t bother me to shoot the people who attacked us, I guess,” Zach held his hands up in a gesture of helplessness. “I’m apparently supposed to be emotionally crippled after having killed people while defending other people, and or this farm.”
“Really?” Gordy’s eyebrows went up at that. “I don’t think any of the rest of us are having that kind of problem.”
“Yahtzee,” Zach made a finger gun and shot it at Zach. “And neither am I. Which, apparently, is a problem. It’s a problem that I don’t have a problem. Get that?”
“Man, that is some convoluted shit, right there,” Gordy was shaking his head.
“My brother,” Zach nodded.
“So, has she changed any since you guys went your separate ways?” Gordy asked, steering the truck through a gate that led to the pole barn where the wilderness mill was working.
“Some,” Zach nodded. “It’s almost as if us not being together anymore has made her loosen up with that ‘help you’ crap,” he shrugged.