“Ambitious and arrogant little bastard aren’t you?”
Kirk smiled. “There’s work to be done and I’m the best guy for the job.”
“When do you want to start?”
“I was thinking tomorrow. I need some food and sleep.”
“I’ll send our supply master to your quarters in the Methodist church, tomorrow morning. He’ll get you started… Boy, I sure hope you can back up all the shit you’ve just said.” The sheriff said.
“Don’t worry about my end, Terrance.” Kirk said as he turned to go. He paused as he began climbing down the guard tower ladder. “Say, did the electricity bring back hot showers?”
The sheriff smiled. “Yeah, we got the town’s water system working again last week.”
Kirk nodded and made his way to the bottom of the tower. He found his guards waiting for him. He had seen the Methodist church on their walk this morning. He began walking in that direction, leaving his guards to catch up.
The Sheriff looked over at Charlie and then gazed out over his town. He had an uneasy feeling about Kirk. The man struck him as arrogant and smart. He’d run into his type before. He had little doubt that Kirk would do what he set out to do. He just had his doubts that the man could be controlled, a loose cannon. He guessed it didn’t matter as long as he delivered. He turned around and looked west, over the river. He tried to imagine several thousand men charging the town, using buses to batter the gates. In a way, it was too hard to picture. In another way, the aftermath of such an event was easy for him to picture. It was just too scary.
Chapter 28
Kirk walked out the First Methodist Church and turned toward the courthouse. His mind wondered over the last two and a half weeks since they had arrived in Celina and what a busy time it had been. Although it had taken a few days to ram it through the city council, the sheriff had delivered on his promises to give Kirk manpower, horses, and weapons to develop scouting teams. He had even gotten the work assignments for the rest of the family. Lucy thrived under the tutelage of the nurse that had inspected them at the quarantine building.
As it turned out, Nurse Baker was the wife of Will Baker, the man who had first let them into town and one of the men who had volunteered for Kirk’s scouting teams. The Will was a prior Marine and took to the training much better than Kirk’s other volunteers. From Kirk’s observations, the guy would have made a good force recon troop in the corps. The scout training progressed well. He taught and drilled his men on ambush techniques, staying hidden in the surrounding countryside, basic horsemanship skills, proper radio call signs and codes, basic knife combat, and basic hand-to-hand combat techniques. Kirk had even set up a firing range of sorts using two more air rifles he had acquired and the one that Clay had. He set up dirt bank with a pellet trap so that the men could practice their shooting skills with the air guns without having to waste real ammunition. It wasn’t the same as shooting a real rifle, but the basics of breathing, sight picture, and squeezing the trigger were close enough. Of course all of the training was too much to be fully absorbed in just a little under three weeks, but the volunteers were learning fast. Clay, Leesha, Jimmy, and Will were ready to go out on their own. The others would be ready in a couple more weeks. That’s what led Kirk to the courthouse this morning.
Kirk mentally ran through the update that he planned to present to the council regarding his scouting teams and their progress. Kirk remained skeptical about how much power the town council held. The sheriff, the mayor, a couple of holdovers from pre-collapse offices such as sanitation and water, the three church leaders, and a few of the larger landowners made up the council. When Kirk had arrived in Celina, he assumed that the sheriff had taken over as the town’s authority and directed all major responsibilities. From what he had been able to gather, that was how it happened immediately after the collapse; however, after the first month of the crisis and everything seemed to be secure within the town, the sheriff had formed this new council and delegated many responsibilities to them. Kirk felt torn. Even though he and Terrance didn’t get along, Kirk realized that the sheriff was a good man and had the right intentions by giving the power back to town representatives. Kirk just felt he had jumped the gun on transferring authority back to a group. It was too soon to open up the town to the weaknesses or internal power struggles, posturing, and indecision that came when people shared power. It wasn’t that Kirk favored a dictatorship; but one could make a strong case that it was the strongest government to deal with a crisis. Well, it’s done now. He’s going to have a bitch of a time getting the power back. Kirk thought as he walked into the courthouse.
The meeting was underway when Kirk walked into the room. Garry Smith, the town’s supply chief, gave him icy glances as Kirk took a seat towards the end of the meeting table. Kirk didn’t blame him. He had created a lot of work for the man. Not only had he taken fourteen of the town’s better horses for scout uses instead of possible farming and maintenance uses, but he had snatched up seven of the town’s few CB’s and walkie-talkies. This left a few of the normal guard positions without a radio. Garry hadn’t been happy when Kirk suggested that they could use old telephones from people’s houses and set up field lines. It wasn’t that much work, but it was something else that had to be done on top of everything else. Kirk had convinced Mr. Pae to assist in the project. Pae had devised a simple system powered by twelve volt converter that ran from a central switchboard to all of the guard positions. Mr. Pae and Scott were working on restoring the town’s regular telephone capabilities, but something had been damaged at the town’s electronic switchboard when the power went out, and they hadn’t been able to repair it yet.
The sheriff also shot him cool glances. One of the conditions that Kirk had made was that he would command the scouts. The sheriff hadn’t liked that. Again, Kirk didn’t blame the guy, but he found it hard to give a shit. As far as Kirk was concerned, this town was far from secure. He thought about how well Lucy, Sherry, and the rest of the family had taken to this place. While it was far from perfect, Kirk felt that this was where he was supposed to be. He wasn’t a superstitious man, nor did he ascribe to the whole fate idea. But the coincidences that led him here: his mother’s funeral, the chance meeting of the Scott and the family, and the detour forced by the attack Owensboro, gave him the feeling that this was his new place in the world. He would be damned if he didn’t do everything he could to protect it.
Kirk sat as several of the other town council members droned on about their projects. It wasn’t that Kirk didn’t care. He was distracted by his plans for later that afternoon. He felt the small band of metal in his pocket. He had agreed to help one of the town’s more aged residents with their garden for the rest of the summer in exchange for the small gold ring. It had taken him several attempts to find one in the town’s market. Most people weren’t selling such trivial things as rings now. They held on to them, hoping that when some sort of currency returned, they might be valuable again.
“Mr. Chandler,” the mayor said, “we’re ready for your update.”
Kirk gave his update in a curt, professional manner. He relayed that he now had three teams ready to go and the rest would be ready within another two weeks. The four concealed watch posts overlooking the most likely approaches to the town were complete. Kirk estimated that if a large group approached on foot, the town would have a couple hours of warning. He laid out a plan to send scouts to patrol a fifteen mile radius around the town and suggested that they might send some teams on longer missions in the future to investigate conditions in towns surrounding Celina. The council had few questions when he completed his report. He answered them quickly and left the room.
Kirk looked at his watch as he waited in line for food. He hoped he wouldn’t be late. The workload at the hospital had been slow for the past few days. He had asked Sherry to meet him on the north end of town, by the horse pastures overlooking the river. Kirk moved up to the next place in line where he handed the serving woman two food t
okens. She handed him two small rations. The size of the rations bothered him, not because of the small amount of food, but because of the dire circumstances that they represented. He couldn’t wait for the harvest and to see full rations again. That would represent a major milestone in the town’s long-term viability. He knew that so much could still go wrong between now and then, but he tried not to dwell on it, reminding himself that today would be a happy day.
Sherry sat on the blanket Kirk had requested she bring to their picnic. To him, she was the embodiment of beauty. She sat, reclined on one arm, the blue dress she had acquired at the market spread around her. The breeze caught her blondish-red hair, causing it to caress her face. The blue sky, broken by white clouds, teamed with the green mountains beyond the river to frame her in a way that Kirk doubted any master painter could capture. Any nagging doubt that lingered disappeared as he sat next to her.
Kirk laid out their small rations, and they made small talk as they ate. Once they were finished, the couple lay back on the blanket and watched the clouds float by. Kirk rolled over and propped his head on his hand. “You and the family seem to be doing well here.”
“Yes. We are. Lucy is enjoying the hospital work. I’m glad that they assigned me to work there with her. Did I tell you that she may have found herself a boyfriend?”
“No. When? We haven’t been here that long.”
Sherry giggled. “One of the local boys who is helping out with the farming. He’s sixteen. A little old for her if you ask me.”
“What the… anyway. What makes you think he likes her?” Kirk asked.
“He keeps coming in for the simplest of things. The most minor scrape or cut and he’s in there to be treated. He tries to wait in Lucy’s section and gets all frustrated when we make him go to another section. I think he’s trying to get up the courage to ask her to dinner one night.”
“You think this kid is hurting himself just to have and excuse to come to the hospital and get a chance to see her? Dumbass.”
Sherry was a little surprised to see Kirk take such a protective stance. “Oh, it’s not that bad. Just minor scrapes and such. I think it’s sweet… in a weird way. Besides, I think he’s afraid to just openly come up and talk with her.”
“Why’s that?”
“You.”
“What do you mean ‘me?’ I don’t even know the kid.”
“True, but everyone knows that you and I are together. You’ve already built a formidable reputation around here. You just come in, talk to the sheriff like he’s just another local yokel, and convince the council to give you people and resources to set up your little scouting teams. Everyone’s seen how hard you work those guys and knows you’re teaching them to kill. All of that doesn’t exactly make you the most approachable guy in town.”
“I still don’t get it.” Kirk said. “What’s all of this got to do with the kid that likes Lucy?”
“He thinks you’re her dad or stepdad. I think that’s why he’s been afraid to just come out and ask to spend time with her. He’s afraid you’ll beat him up or something.”
“I…well….” He sat up and pulled Sherry up to sit with him. “Stepdad, huh? Well, I guess that’s as much of a lead-in that I’m going to get.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We all seem to have really found something here. Even your dad seems to have come around. Clay and Leesha are doing great. Jimmy’s on his way to becoming a good scout and has made plenty of friends here, even with the older guys. Everything seems to click here. I’ve even found myself thinking of this place as home since we’ve been here. I really can’t think of anywhere else to be. This place, it can be a place for new beginnings, a place where we can put the pieces of everything back together if we can make it secure.”
“I want this to be a new beginning for us as well.” Kirk continued as he shifted to one knee. “We’ve been through a lot these last couple of months, and I’m afraid we’re going to go through even more in the coming months and years. Now, I know it hasn’t been too long since you lost Jan, but I have to tell you how I feel. Whatever happens in our new home, I want to face it with you. I know we got off to what has to be one of the weirdest starts of any romance, ever.” Kirk removed the small ring from this pocket. The tiny diamond set in the center of the thin band sparkled in the bright sunlight. “Sherry Jenkins, will you marry me?”
Sherry’s hands flew to cover her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes. She sat there for a few moments, not saying a word, tears sliding down her face. Kirk was unsure of the response. The last time he had done this, over a decade ago, his wife had said yes immediately with a huge self-satisfied grin on her face. Finally, Sherry nodded, her hands still covering the lower half of her face. Kirk reached up and gently pulled her hands away from her face. He cupped her left hand and slid the ring onto it. It was too big for her finger to make a good fit, but it worked. Kirk began to speak, but Sherry cut him off as she embraced him, cupped his head in her hands, and kissed him. He tasted her salty tears as they kissed and she forced him to lie back down. They were hundreds of yards away from the closest person. Kirk half folded the blanket, covering them as they celebrated their engagement. The Methodist minister married them the next day, the rest of the family and his scouting volunteers standing as witnesses.
Chapter 29
While a meager celebration for the Fourth of July lifted the spirits of the Celina’s residents, one of its previous residents found himself following a starving group of religious zealots down a state highway in southern Kentucky. Samuel Frost had been among the first refugees to reach Celina. His wife and brother had accompanied him on his flight from Nashville as the food dwindled and the people turned on each other.
Things had been pretty good in Celina before his wife had convinced Sam and his brother to help her create fake food chips. They hadn’t been hard to counterfeit. If only she hadn’t used so many of them to purchase things at the town’s market, they wouldn’t have been caught; but no, she had to go on a spending spree, using more chips than anyone could have earned. When he thought back on it, she had never been exceptionally bright. It hadn’t taken the sheriff very long to figure out who had committed the crime. He carried out swift justice, banishing all three of them almost nine weeks ago.
They had entertained the idea of trying to sneak back into town, but decided against it. Most everyone in town knew their faces since they had been tried in public view before the courthouse. No, going back was not an option, since more than a few of the town’s residents thought they should be killed for their crimes. They had struck out east, trying to find a new home.
Sam’s brother had been the first to go. A week after getting exiled from Celina, he stepped on a cottonmouth. The wound swelled and the pain became so great that his brother couldn’t move. Sam had tried a few home remedies like applying a tourniquet and cutting the wound open to let the poison spill out, but nothing helped. A couple days later, his brother died, screaming in pain as the infection and poison raced to see which could destroy his body faster.
Sam’s wife had lasted for another three weeks after his brother. The lack of food and the cool night’s had gotten the better of her. She developed a cough, fever, and diarrhea. She languished for the better part of a week before passing in her sleep. Sam, now alone and starving, had made it to a town that let him in. He had been in Barbourville, Kentucky a little over two weeks when the Prophet showed up with his ragged group of followers. They had been harmless at first, just making a lot of noise and begging resources from the town. They made small camps inside the city wherever they could and preached their message. People tried to help them at first, ignoring the preaching and proselytizing of their leader’s message. Many found his message blasphemous to existing Christian doctrine. Even after all his time with the group Sam wasn’t sure if he believed in what the Prophet said. Some things fit along with what he had learned growing up in Sunday school. Other things just seemed crazy.
&nbs
p; The Prophet was a short, skinny, bald man in his later forties. His black, bushy eyebrows framed his almost black eyes and amplified the effect of his pale, shaved head. He wore a dirty, white bath robe for clothes. The Prophet preached that he had been chosen by God to lead a group of God’s new chosen people, the New Jews, west to the Mississippi River in order to fight and defeat the forces of Lucifer in an Armageddon-style, last battle. The Prophet claimed that Mosses and King David had delivered this message to him from Jesus Christ himself. It was the Prophet’s burden to travel the land, collecting the broken people and leading them to the Messiah and victory in the last battle. Sam could never quite decide if the man was a raving lunatic or truly spoke with the power of God. All he knew for sure was that the world had gone to hell in a hand basket and that this Prophet guy spoke with heartfelt conviction. For Sam, that and the promise of something better in an afterlife, was all it took. He joined the cult on the tenth day they had been in town.
Things began to turn nasty when some of the Prophet’s two hundred or so followers got caught stealing food from the town’s shared resources. The town’s mayor and the police chief tried to arrest the men, but the Prophet sheltered them. When the town’s officials confronted the Prophet, they underestimated the effect the preaching had on the town. Many of their friends and neighbors defended the Prophet. The town split between people who hated the cult and wanted them gone and those who had, or soon would, join the cult. The end result was messy, leaving many people dead. The cult burned the town after they scavenged the place clean. Their group now numbered over four hundred as they marched west toward the final battle.
Life in the New Jew congregation remained bleak, even with the addition of the scavenged resources. They marched from town to town, converting who they could. They never turned away a person who would swear fealty to the Prophet, and through him, God. The Prophet led prayer at least three times a day. Every evening before the camp slept for the night, he delivered the same sermon, proclaiming himself as the way for humanity’s salvation by leading the chosen to victory. The group shared food, as well as every other resource. The Prophet claimed all property and distributed it to his children as he saw fit. Usually the distribution came in the form of a watery soup that barely sustained them. Everywhere he looked, Sam saw the emaciated bodies and hollow, empty eyes of his fellow converts.
Fifty Falling Stars Page 46