“Maybe, but it'll be stretching us I think.”
“See what you can come up with. Try to focus primarily on .308 and 30-06.”
“Are those the best guns to use for this stuff?” the Bishop asked.
“Not in my opinion. But they're absolutely capable, and you're bound to have a few hunters who have spent some serious cash on really good rifles. They seem to be the most popular calibers, so they're the ones you can most likely get the most ammo together for.”
“I'll get on it the minute I get home.”
“Look,” Mike continued, “be sure your guys stick with as much of the same ammo as possible. If they use one hundred and fifty grain Remington ammo during one practice session, and then one hundred and sixty-five grain Federal the next time, they don't stand a chance of learning long range shooting. If the ammo isn't consistent, they'll never get consistent enough to build any real skills.”
“Bishop,” Mike said, unsure if he should really continue. “There is one other option for getting good guns and ammo together. I've been monitoring the Guard's radio pretty closely. There's going to be a weapons supply truck coming through tomorrow night. I don't know it's route or what exactly they're carrying.”
“You want us to take it?”
“I can't tell you to do that. I don't know what you guys are ready for. Talk with your men and decide for yourself. The truck is due in at 1:10 am tomorrow. I'd expect it's going to look no different than any other supply trucks to hide it in plain sight.”
“If we can take this truck, will you come fight with us?” the Bishop asked firmly.
“No!”
“We really need -”
“I said no!” Mike stood up more straight. “I've got four women, six kids, soon to be seven, and a lot of the needed food supply to keep safe. I'll help with gathering information and planning. I'll keep doing my radio recordings. But don't ask anything else of me.”
Mike turned and walked off to get in his truck.
Taylor grabbed the Bishop's arm to briefly talk to him by herself. “Hey, I'll try to see if I can bring down a book on our next trip that teaches a lot about long-range shooting.”
Bishop Christensen seemed relived. “Oh that would be wonderful, Taylor! As long as it doesn't cause problems between you two.”
“Nah, he's not going to get mad at me. And I'd bet he'll agree loaning a book is okay.”
“Any help we can get is great,” he said, patting her on the shoulder.
“I'll try to talk to him about finding a way that he would feel is safe for me to help train a few of your guys, but no promises on that.”
“Thank you, Taylor. You better get going before he gets mad at me for holding you up.”
At dinner that night, Taylor told the others about what the Bishop had said, and what he'd asked of Mike. Mike ate silently, his expressionless face making it known he didn't want to talk about it. To his surprise, they were actually encouraging him to do more to help the resistance. If not actually serving as a long-range shooter, then at least trying to train a few other men. Out of pure frustration, he finally spoke up.
“Look, I've got a lot on my mind, and enough responsibility already. I'm already going to feel guilty if people get killed fighting back. And I've got to keep this ranch safe. That starts with keeping a low profile.”
“A low profile?” Stacy said in a mocking voice. “Mike, your alias is the name on everyone's tongue. Your voice is the one everyone is following. Are you really encouraging people to do something you're not willing to do yourself?”
He had heard enough. Mike got up and walked out to the barn to be away from the others, hoping to go back in after they were asleep. Jessica gave him about thirty minutes alone before joining him. She was once again there to help calm him down, and trying to give him another one of her pep talks. But this time his mind was set. He wasn't joining the fighting.
Later the next day, Mike was out at his radio station listening in again to what the Guard was doing. He was hoping to identify a pattern in their supply shipments, but it was totally erratic. Nothing was ever delivered on the same day or at the same time from week to week. He had a feeling the Bishop was going to try to take that weapons truck that night, and was hoping to make it easier to seize other supply trucks. But this was apparently going to require a last minute operation, and with Brad yelling for him to come eat lunch, it was something he'd have to work on plans for later.
When he came out of the barn, Brad was holding keys in his hand. “Mom wants you to go pick up Amy and the kids and bring them up here for lunch. Can I drive?”
“You want to drive, huh? Well, not while we've got other people riding along. And I think it'd be better to start you off in the S-10, not the Suburban. Maybe we can get you some driving time in later though son. I think you're big enough.”
Jessica and Mike went for a short walk after lunch together. “Jess, we've got to figure out what to do about Amy and the kids. It's spring time, and they don't seem all that eager to leave.”
“Do you want them gone?”
“I don't know. I guess I don't really care much either way. I don't want her thinking anything weird if we ask her to stay, you know? I like Brad having all the other kids around.”
“Well, then maybe the best thing to do for now is nothing. If they want to leave, they can, and if not they can stay.”
Mike simply nodded his head, agreeing with her.
Everyone, including Amy and her kids, all went down for the food drop the next day, as Bishop Christensen had asked them to. He had his grandsons and five other families with him for a grill-out and social gathering. Mike wasn't particularly happy to be there, but he was glad the ladies and kids all enjoyed talking and playing.
While the Bishop cooked up BBQ pork from a hog he'd been given, he had the other five men trying cautiously to get Mike warmed up to the idea of training them. Taylor stayed by his side to try and help him stay calm. She did her best to answer most of their questions about long distance shooting, since she'd been training since her early teens, and she loaned them the book The Ultimate Sniper, by John Plaster. Mike barely said a word, feeling like he'd been tricked and cornered by the Bishop.
As they were finishing eating, Bishop Christensen called out to Mike and Taylor. “Hey, can you two walk over here with me for a minute. I've got a present for you,” he said with his usual big goofy smile, as he headed over to his own truck.
They followed him around as he opened his camper shell. “Holy shit!” Mike yelled at the top of his voice, getting everyone's attention. “You guys did it? I... I didn't hear anything on their radio this morning about it.”
“This is all yours,” the bishop said with a big smile and a sense of pride.
Sitting there in the bed of his truck were two Barrett M107A1 rifles sitting on top of several tightly packed boxes full of .50BMG rounds.
“That bag in the back is full of extra magazines too,” he said. He was holding his head high, proud that he had apparently impressed Mike. “I'm not going to stop asking you to join the fight, but even if you don't, these should do a lot to help keep the Paine Clan safe up there.”
“Bishop, this is an awesome gift. But don't you think you and your men need it more if you're going to fight the Guard?”
“Don't worry about that. We kept six of these, and this is only about a tenth of the ammo for them we got. We got a few dozen M4's with over a hundred cases of 5.56mm rounds as well.”
“Wow! You guys really did score,” Mike said.
“Saint George was only one stop on the truck's run. We got it's manifest, and this shipment was intended to supply ten different stations around the southern half of the state.”
Taylor finally broke her silence, after staring in awe at the guns. “So, so this is mine?” she asked, picking up one of the rifles.
“That's yours young lady,” the Bishop affirmed, patting her on the shoulder.
Taylor held on to her rifle the rest of the
day, absolutely giddy over knowing it was hers. When they got home, they unloaded a few boxes of ammo into the barn, then Mike told the others he wanted a few days to himself and would be up at the cave. Finding himself in such a social setting, and so unexpectedly, was mentally hard on him. Especially on top of everything else that was going on.
Chapter 13
Death & Life
Mike returned home from the cave three days later. All the kids were out playing a game they'd made up, similar to baseball. The ladies were all sitting on the porch watching the kids, talking and laughing.
“Hey!” Taylor almost squealed as she ran up to give him a hug.
“We were starting to wonder if you were ever going to come back,” Stacy quipped.
“Of course I was coming back. It's my home isn't it,” he replied with a smirk.
“Sure, Mike, you keep telling yourself that,” Jessica said as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Hey, um, we've got something we were wanting to talk to you about,” Amy cut in. “I've been thinking about me and the kids. And we'd like to stay up here at the ranch with you all if you're okay with it.”
“I already told her to consider that house hers,” Jessica added.
“Welcome to the family then, I guess,” Mike said.
“Well, we want to stay, but we'd really like to at least go visit Bethany's parents and my brother, just once. I guess to try and find some closure finally,” Amy continued. “Stacy said she'd be willing to drive us over there for maybe a two or three day visit.”
“Well, okay. I guess so,” Mike replied. “We'd need to put a small transfer tank in the back so you've got enough gas for the trip. And I want both you ladies, Jason and Steve all armed, just in case.”
“We've already got that done. Everything is ready to go,” Stacy said. “We wanted to leave immediately so we could be back in time for her to help Taylor deliver the baby.”
“Wow, okay. Um -”
“They'll be fine, Mike,” Jessica said, grabbing his hand. “They need this to help them really move on.”
“Okay, then I guess you all better get going soon so you can make the most of the time,” he said.
“Mike, Brad wanted to go too,” Jessica added. “Amy said she'd love to have him along. I'm a little hesitant, but I think it'd be good for him to get out a little bit.”
He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I guess. I think it'd be good for him too. Plus, the boy's a hell of a shot. Tell him he can go if he takes the little .22 pistol and his .223.”
Amy didn't care much for the idea of sending Brad with his guns. “You want to send a ten-year-old out armed like that?” she asked.
“Damn right I do. If you do encounter a problem, that boy is at least as good of a shot as any of you, if not better than all of you put together.”
So they all piled in to Stacy's Suburban and headed off to visit Amy's family. Mike, Jessica and Taylor saw them off. The three of them stood watching, slightly nervously, as the others disappeared behind a trail of dust.
“So what are we going to do for three days with no kids around?” Taylor asked.
Jessica had already been thinking about that. “It's warm enough to enjoy being outside, so my big ass is going to strip down and burn under the sun.”
Taylor liked the idea of getting a tan and said she was going to join her.
“I've got new toys waiting to be played with!” Mike said with a big grin.
He had enjoyed his makeshift .50 caliber rifle for years, but it never had the consistency that a high end rifle would. His .300 Win Mag and his .270 were both exceptionally consistent rifles that he had spent a good deal of money on. But he never could make himself spend the money that a Barrett would have cost him. He was eager to test them out and see if they were as well built as he'd dreamed of.
After a few hours of firing off rounds, Mike was both happy and sore. The recoil on these was a lot softer than his old .50 caliber, but after two hours of shooting, his shoulder was really feeling it. He wasn't going to go back out the next day. But he was extremely pleased with the performance of the new rifles, and his own steadiness aiming a full mile down the canyon.
He got back to the house to find Taylor standing at the grill, pulling three large steaks off onto plates. The afternoon breeze had certainly cooled things down a lot from the warm afternoon they'd enjoyed. Taylor had done a terrific job on dinner, with fried cabbage and some peas on the sides. They then laid blankets out on the floor to play a game of Monopoly. Mike insisted they were cheating, but didn't care. He was enjoying watching them be silly, like girls having a slumber party.
“I hope it stays warm the whole time they're gone,” Taylor said as she laid there staring at the ceiling.
“I hope it just stays warm, period. I'm sick of the cold,” Mike remarked.
A hundred miles west, Steve, Jacob and Stephanie were getting to see their grandparents for the first time since their parents had died. Dale Westen had called Scott to let him know his sister was down from the mountain, and Scott invited them all to come stay at his place just outside Modena.
Scott Burdick had a little five acre farm that he lived on with his wife Gerri. They couldn't have kids themselves, and adored their nieces and nephews. Amy used to visit frequently before the crash, and Bethany almost always came with her kids too so they could visit her parents as well. So Dale and Scott knew each other well, and both had always been as much a part of the kids lives as they could be from so far away.
There was a lot of sadness that first night at Scott's house. They took turns to, one at a time, each tell the others about a happy memory they had with those who had died. Stacy was able to answer a lot of questions Dale and Scott both had about their final moments, and about the ranch they were living at, though she did avoid Dale's several attempts to find out where it was located.
The next day was mostly happier for everyone. Trisha and Gerri were excited to fix everyone a big breakfast. The previous evening had seemed to really bring them all the closure they were seeking. They spent the day playing games of croquet and badminton and generally having a good time.
Dale and Trisha both made numerous remarks throughout the day about their grandkids coming to live with them, and not going back with the others to the ranch. Scott was still thrilled to know that his sister and the kids were safely hidden at the “Paine Ranch,” as he called it. They all mostly ignored Dale's and Trisha's comments, but as it came closer to dinner time, Steve decided someone needed to say something.
“Will you two please stop?” he said, raising his voice and making his annoyance clear.
“Excuse me?” Trisha seemed surprised by her grandson's comment.
“Stop. We're not coming to live with you. We just came down to visit, and all this talk is making the trip not as fun.”
Dale reacted angrily, as he'd been planning for months to take in the kids the first chance he got. “Steven Hepworth Jr.! Don't you talk to your grandmother like that.” He calmed himself down slightly and continued. “Son, I know you've been through a lot. I can't imagine losing both your parents and your little brother like you did. But you're still a kid, and you don't get to make this decision.”
“Grandpa, I love you. But the decision is already made. We're going back. And if you want us to come visit again, you'll stop.”
“Boy, I'm not letting you go back up with those strangers on the mountain. You're family, and you're staying with family.”
“That's right. I am staying with family,” the young man replied firmly. “Aunt Amy, and Jason, and Anna, plus Jacob and Stephanie. We're all family. We've all lived together our whole lives. We all went through this together. And we're all going back tomorrow together.”
Dale looked to Scott, hoping that he would help try to make them all stay.
Scott tried not to grin as he took Steve's side. “You don't want to look at me in this Dale. I agree with Steve. As much as I want to have them all here, I love them enough to want wh
at's best for them. And if Amy, Steve, and Jason say going back is what's best, then I support them.”
Dale was fuming mad, and Trisha was crying as if they'd all just died. Dale turned his anger on Stacy. “You better tell me how to come up there to visit my grandkids!”
“Sir, I'm so sorry for all you've been through, but I cannot do that. You wouldn't -”
Dale jumped out of his chair in a rage. “Listen here you little bitch! Tell me -”
“Sit down and shut the hell up!” Brad stood and said in the loudest, most stern voice he could. Dale looked at Brad angrily, but calmed down immediately seeing the young boy pointing a pistol straight at his head.
It was dead silent, and the tension in the room was thick. “Brad. Look at me, Brad. He's not going to hurt me. Everyone's calmed down now,” Stacy said, putting her hand on the gun to lower it.
Seeing the gun lowered, Dale began sobbing. Brad was strangely calm and poised. Stacy put her arm around the old man. “We'll do the best we can to keep you in touch with the kids, and make arrangements to visit whenever possible. No one wants to hurt your relationship with them.”
“Why can we not come see them?” Trisha begged. “We'll just follow you home.”
“Ma'am -” Stacy started to say before Brad bluntly cut her off.
“Lady, if you try that, I'll shoot out your tires so my daddy doesn't shoot you for following us.”
“It's just like the Bishop told us when they came to tell us about the others not making it,” Scott reminded Dale. “Thomas Paine is going to shoot first, and identify later.”
Crashed: The Death Of The Dollar Page 14