Half Past Midnight

by Jeff Brackett

  He raised his eyebrows. “Maybe you don’t realize just how many people look up to you nowadays. You’re an example to them. You and Ken and Megan.”

  “That was over two years ago!” I laughed. “There have been a lot of other fights like that since then.”

  “Not like that one.” Jim shook his head. “You forget who the investigating officer was. I know what you three went up against.”

  He pointed his finger in my face before I could open my mouth. “I know that you never faced them all at once! You’ve told everyone who’ll listen, over and over. But I also know that when a known killer held a knife to Megan’s throat, instead of panicking or breaking down, you and Ken worked out a plan to distract the bad guys. And instead of panicking or breaking down, Megan killed the guy with his own knife!”

  “Ken did the shooting and drew their fire,” I protested, “and Megan killed the guy. All I did was throw a smoke grenade and run. Of the three of us, I was in the least danger of all.”

  The mayor took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Leeland, you’re modest. I can admire that. And it ain’t false modesty, either. You’re good people, and I thank God for sending you and your family to Rejas. But this ain’t the time for it, so shut the hell up, and let me tell you a couple of things about yourself!

  “First, Ken told me that plan was yours, and I know you’re the one that trained Megan. And you forgot to mention that fight at the end. Billy told me you took him and his three buddies before they ever got off a shot. Everyone in town knows about that. I made sure that story got around. It was great for the town’s morale.

  “Second, that karate shit of yours has spread to where at least two thirds of the folks in town are either training with you or some of your students. You’ve given them the knowledge, not to mention the courage and confidence to defend themselves against armed bandits. That means you’re at least indirectly responsible for saving the lives of a good portion of the population here. Yet you insist on being treated as ’just one of the guys’ outside of class.

  “Third, you and your forges have helped keep Rejas from sliding back into the Stone Age. I know you get a lot o’ help from Brad and Mark, but the idea was yours. You’re the closest thing to an expert we have on post-D survival, but you won’t head up any of the committees, even though we’ve asked you over and over. Instead, you insist on being an advisor. You’re one of those people that knows a little bit about a lot of things, and that’s what we need now.”

  Though others had told me these things in the past, I still felt embarrassed when a conversation took this turn. So of course, I did what I always did. I tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “So you’re saying I’m a know-it-all?”

  Jim threw up his hands. “I give up. I try to get some help, and all I get are your lame-ass jokes!” He stood and headed for the front door. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

  “Wait, Jim!” I jumped up and went after him. “I’m sorry, I just… I get uncomfortable… I mean…” I fumbled for a second. “Look, let’s just forget about what a wonderful person I am, okay? You stop telling me about it, and I’ll stop denying it. Meanwhile, I’m happy to help any way I can.”

  Kelland stopped and turned around. Then, he nodded and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

  We shook on it.

  As we returned to our seats, I asked, “Why me? Modesty aside, what makes you think I can help you with this one?”

  “Cheryl suggested you. The first person a man talks to is his wife, least that’s how it is with me. But she told me I should come talk to you. That you had a way of makin’ folks see things they already knew, but didn’t know they knew, or some shit like that. Nowadays, I don’t even know what she’s talkin’ about half of the time. Ever since she started takin’ your classes.”

  He beamed with pride. “Too late to stop her now, though. She’d probably beat the hell out of me if I tried.”

  He was probably right. Cheryl was one of my better students, one of the few who truly understood that the system I taught was more than a method of self-defense, but also a way of looking at life and attacking its problems. She had shown a lot of faith in me, sending Jim like that. I didn’t want to let her down.

  I thought for a moment. “Come take a walk with me.” I walked to the back door and waited.

  Kelland stared at me for a minute, then grinned. “Oh hell, this is gonna be one of those school lessons she was tellin’ me about, ain’t it? One of those walks where you make me ’see the light.’ ” He waggled his fingers and rolled his eyes.

  “You know, if you would come to the classes ever so often…”

  He shook his head. “I got no time. Every time I turn around, somebody wants me to decide how we’re gonna do something, or when we’re gonna do something, or if we’re gonna do something. I barely got time to eat, sleep, and occasionally take a piss.”

  “I get the picture.” He was nothing if not eloquent. “So take a break for a minute and walk with me. I want to show you something.”

  He stood and smiled. “Lead on, O Great One.”

  We walked out back, and I led him to the shelter in which we had lived for nearly two weeks. There, I began my “lesson.”

  “I planned a long time before the bombs ever fell about what I would do when and if it ever happened.” I leaned over to open the blast door. “I learned all I could about the effects of radiation, how to build shelters, air filters, water filters, anything related to nuclear warfare. And I learned to prepare for the worst. The way I see it, if you’re ready for the worst that can happen, you can handle anything less with no problems.”

  He looked down at the shelter. “Looks like a lot of work went into this.”

  “Yeah, it did.” I descended to the fourth step and flipped a toggle switch just inside the entrance. Twelve-volt automobile bulbs came to life inside. “Come on in.”

  Jim descended the rough wooden steps into the shelter, and his eyebrows arched. “This is pretty impressive.”

  “Like I said, I tried to learn all I could.” I led him down the short corridor lined with simple wooden shelves and benches. “When we first built this, the lights ran off three car batteries that we kept charged with a hand-powered generator. Now we’ve wired in the waterwheel generator, and we’ve got enough power to run just about anything we want, either in here or in the house.”

  As if on cue he asked the question I was waiting for. “So, if you’re so hot on always being prepared, why are the shelves all empty?”

  “Because of you, Jim.”

  “Me?”

  I smiled at having so easily caught him off guard. “Remember when you questioned me on the night of the Kindley mess? You called me a selfish S.O.B. and said you suspected we had a stockpile of provisions that Rejas needed.”

  “I never said any such thing!”

  I stared at him silently until, finally, he amended, “Well, not in so many words.”

  “If you recall, it was shortly afterward that we brought a van full of supplies to the town stockpile.” We reached the end of the tunnel and turned the corner into the tiny little alcove where we had put our five-gallon toilet during our confinement. At the end of the aisle were wooden stairs similar to the ones we had descended at the other entrance. I stopped just before them and continued my talk.

  “It occurred to me that if I didn’t bring them in, and things got really bad, people would eventually come after them. And if things didn’t get bad, and the town prospered without any help from us, we could probably count on being known as ’the bums that sat there nice and cozy while the rest of the town had to struggle.’ Also, we figured it wouldn’t do much good for us to live through a nuclear war, if we just had to watch everyone else die. You convinced me that it was better to survive as a town than as a family.”

  He was silent for a moment as he thought my analogy through to its logical conclusion. “So you’re tellin’ me that I need to give up all we worked so hard for, because it’s better to survive
as a country than as a town?”

  “Not exactly.” I reached down, grasped a latch under the bottom stair, and lifted. The stairs rose as a single unit, hinged and counterweighted at the top, to expose a hidden room. Our clan, in which we included Ken and Cindy, had worked long and hard to keep it secret. The mayor’s jaw dropped in astonishment when he saw the room lined with fully stocked shelves.

  Given a choice between good will and selfishness, I usually tried to compromise. I briefly wondered if his mouth could possibly open any wider. I guessed I could find out if I really wanted by simply telling him about the other two stashes hidden nearby. Nonperishable food items, weapons, ammunition, and tools. “I never said you needed to give up everything,” I told him.

  It took several minutes for him to stop laughing long enough for us to begin planning.

  Chapter 12

  August 16 / Year 3

  Dans cite entrer exercit desniee,

  Duc entrera par persuasion,

  Aux foibles portes clam armee amenee,

  Mettront feu, mort, de sang effusion.

  The army denied entry to the city,

  The Duke will enter through persuasion:

  The army led secretly to the weak gates,

  They will put it to fire and sword, effusion of blood.

  Nostradamus — Century 9, Quatrain 96

  We still had eight tankers in town. The USR amp;D team confiscated half of our sixteen trucks, so the others had been busy for the last two days moving our gasoline and diesel supply back into some of the gas stations in nearby towns. Seventy-five percent of the food stockpile was now hidden in attics, buried in backyards, or otherwise stashed away. Many of our general supplies were cached as well. When our visitors arrived, no one would have any reason to suspect that we had any more than a modest surplus of anything.

  So Thursday morning saw most of the people of Rejas lining Main Street as if in anticipation of a parade. I stood with several of the ad hoc committee heads in front of City Hall, all of us decked out in our Sunday best.

  Of course, hard work and hard times had reshaped most of us so our Sunday best hung off of us in places where they had once been tight and fit snugly in places where they had previously been loose. The so-called honor guard for the visiting representatives of the reviving U.S. looked more like a group of cleaned-up hobos than official representatives.

  The tension poured through the crowd as word radioed in from the roadblock stations. The convoy was headed into town. It was strange, the disparity of emotions I felt at the sight of all of those military vehicles and uniforms. After all the time I’d spent wondering what was going on with the rest of the country, there was a feeling of relief in knowing that at least a fragment of our government had survived and was struggling back to life. Many of the townspeople must have felt it as well, for as those Humvees rolled down Main Street, they cheered and clapped. American flags appeared in the hands of many.

  I smiled with the others, but my smile was strained, as were those of many of the committee members. We were the few people in whom the mayor had entrusted the knowledge of how much the government’s struggling reemergence was likely to cost us, if they got their way. And from the looks of things, they had enough troops and hardware to make sure they got their way.

  As the Humvees pulled up to the steps of City Hall, Mayor Kelland stepped down to make nice to the muckety-mucks unloading from the first vehicle. I had never been good with uniforms. Belt rankings, I understood, but chevrons and pips were foreign to me. So I strained to hear the introductions as “Captain Brady” shook hands with Mayor Kelland. Brady stood a lanky four inches over six feet and, judging from the way his uniform hung on him, he had been through some pretty lean times recently. Looking around, I noted that none of the other uniforms fit any better. I heard a distinct Boston accent when he introduced himself as the personal aide for “the general.”

  It seemed a tank had broken down on the way into town, and the general had elected to oversee the repairs personally, but would follow at his earliest opportunity.

  “Meanwhile,” the captain said, “I assume the ladies and gentlemen standing so patiently behind you are persons of some importance, or they would be out with the rest of the crowd.” The man was smooth, a born diplomat.

  “’Course, Captain, I’d like to introduce you to my emergency committee heads, and chief aides.” Jim led the way over to us. I noticed how he exaggerated his country accent, playing the bumpkin. “If it weren’t for these people, Rejas would prolly be a town full o’ dead n’ dyin’.”

  It was Captain Brady’s turn to make nice; he shook hands with each of us. As he introduced us, Kelland had a little comment about the individual contributions we had made. “This here’s Leeland Dawcett. We didn’t exactly see eye to eye when he first got here, but he’s shaped up real good. He’s a survivalist and has helped us hang on by the skin of our teeth.”

  Captain Brady’s eyes seemed to bore into mine for a moment, staring intently, as if trying to memorize my features. “Mr. Dawcett. Your name sounds familiar. Ah, yes! One of the truckers last week mentioned you in relation to… town security, was it?”

  “No sir,” I replied. His question seemed ingenuous enough, but his gaze made me uneasy. Up close, he reminded me less of a diplomat and more of a bureaucrat, a definite step down on Darwin’s ladder. “Well, not exactly. I’m an aide to Ken Simms, who is in charge of town security.”

  His brow furrowed as if he were trying to recall the conversation. Finally, he shrugged apologetically. “That must be it.” He looked at me for another second, as if he wanted to say something more, but evidently changed his mind. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Dawcett.” And the mayor moved him on down the line, leaving me to wonder what was going on.

  After the final introductions, Jim turned to the captain. “If you like, Cap’n, folks have put together a little spread in your honor. I’m sorry there ain’t enough for all o’ your boys at the table, but we have got a bunch o’ volunteers that’d be proud to feed one or two of the good ol’ U.S.A.’s fightin’ men.”

  “That sounds very generous, Mayor. Thank you very much. Just let me return to my vehicle for a moment, and I’ll tell my men.”

  “Sure thing, Cap’n. How many men do I need to make arrangements for?”

  “Two thousand, nine hundred, seventy-six, when the general gets here with the rest of the troops.”

  Jim stood silent for a second, astonished into rigidity. Then he nearly fell down the steps as he rushed to catch Captain Brady. “Twenty-nine hundred? You’re bringin’ twenty-nine hundred troops into town?”

  Brady turned back to the mayor. “Closer to three thousand, actually. Is that a problem? I’ve got more than fifteen hundred with me now. The rest will be here within a few hours.”

  Our intrepid mayor stammered as the rest of us tried to decide whether to be shocked at the number of armed troops coming into town, or amused at the stunned look on Kelland’s face as he rapidly scanned the large number of Humvees, trucks, and armored personnel carriers he had allowed into Rejas.

  Finally, though, Jim managed to regain his composure. “Well, honestly, Cap’n, I hadn’t expected that many mouths. I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but I don’t think we’ve got enough to feed that many.”

  Captain Brady laughed and clapped Jim on the back. “Not to worry, Mayor. My troops all carry their own rations. All we ask is a roof and some civil company.”

  The mayor managed to look relieved and nodded. “I think we can manage that much at least.”

  “Well, then, on behalf of my men and the general, I thank you, Mayor.”

  Brady went back to his vehicle and got on the radio. A few seconds later, men began pouring out of the vehicles.

  The men were divided into pairs, two soldiers to each of four hundred fifty families, with the remaining troops stuck watching the convoy and supplies. Our dinner proceeded as planned. Brady and his aide joined the “Emergency Committee”
heads for a dinner in the City Hall cafeteria-barbecued chicken, egg salad, squash and eggplant casserole, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, sweet potatoes, and acorn bread with butter.

  Captain Brady eyed the food with a smile. “I see you folks are doing well. I haven’t seen a spread like this in quite some time.”

  We had anticipated his reaction, had in fact debated on the idea of fixing such a meal. Many felt we should present a more poverty-stricken appearance, but the majority had argued that it would seem more suspicious if we didn’t try to make a good impression to the first sign in two years that the U.S. still existed. Each item on the menu had been carefully planned.

  Kelland launched into his explanation of the food. “Yes, sir. We found out that chickens don’t seem to get radiation sickness as easy as other animals. ’Course you have ta cook ‘em a might, to make sure you kill the salmonella.”

  Captain Brady blanched a bit at that, but Jim continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “An’ when you got chickens, you got eggs for egg salad. Different folks around town got a few gardens for veggies, and one of the hunter’s wives came up with this acorn bread. Here, try some.” Projecting the image of a country bumpkin trying to impress a superior, he pulled a piece off of the end of a loaf and handed it eagerly to the captain.

  “Yep,” he drawled, “we pulled out all the stops fer y’all’s visit.” The act was perfect. His apparent pride in the food made it seem that the meal was something extraordinary.

  Brady’s smile diminished, even more so when he bit into the bread and discovered just how bitter acorn bread tasted. “Delicious,” he lied. “Is the rest of the food so good?”

  “Well…” The mayor hesitated. “I’ll admit it ain’t all that good, but then again, some of it’s even better!”

  I noticed that Brady’s smile suddenly seemed more forced than it had been.

  The meal went fairly well, with all of us eating dry, stringy chicken slathered with spicy barbecue sauce. “My own recipe,” Jim bragged as Brady gasped and downed half a glass of blackberry mint tea. There was overcooked squash and eggplant, mealy tomatoes, and overripe cucumbers. The hard part lay in convincing Captain Brady that this was a special treat-without any of us getting ill in the process.