Resurrecting Home

by A. American

  “Fresh pig meat and salt? Hell yeah!” Dylan said.

  “We don’t get much meat. We stay close to home here, trying not to be seen,” Gena said.

  “I tell you what, how about we keep you in meat for some of your harvest?” I said.

  “I’m in, for damn sure. We can certainly keep you in veggies,” Dylan said.

  “Well, you can’t keep us in veggies. We’ve actually got a pretty big group with several kids and a bunch of adults—we would probably run you dry. But anything will help and fresh fruits and veggies will be more than welcome. Do you like liver?”

  “Oh yeah, liver and onions is terrific,” Gena said.

  “I tell you what, we’re going to run home and come back with some things to trade. We may have some other folks with us, if that’s okay.”

  “Fine by me,” Gena said.

  “I have to ask you guys . . . not trying to be a smart-ass, but why are you showing us all this? I mean, it’s dangerous to be so open these days,” I said.

  “You guys seem all right. You came to the gate with your rifles slung over your shoulder, so it’s not like we caught you sneaking around the yard. Plus you won’t take anything without a trade, so that says a lot about your character.”

  I smiled. “I think you’re nuts, but I like you. We’ll be back in a bit,” I said and set the bottle on a small bench.

  “Take it for the road, just bring it back. Not so easy to find bottles at the moment,” Dylan said with a wink.

  Chapter 4

  When are the buses supposed to arrive?” Sheffield asked Livingston.

  Livingston looked at his watch. “They said around one or two, barring any delays. I expect to see them in the next hour or so.”

  “And where’s that old man and his band of misfits? He should have been here already.”

  Livingston laughed. “I think he travels to the beat of a different drum.”

  “Yeah, you got that right. Different isn’t even the word.”

  “I’m just glad he’s on our side. Could you imagine dealing with that sumbitch if he was after you?”

  “There’s a scary thought,” Sheffield said, shaking his head.

  “What’s a scary thought?” Sarge asked as he stepped into Sheffield’s office. Sheffield had taken over Tabor’s old haunt after relieving him of command of the camp.

  “Speak of the devil,” Livingston said as he reached out to shake Sarge’s hand.

  Sheffield looked at his watch. “If you can’t get here on time, get here when you can.”

  Sarge shook Livingston’s hand. “You seem to forget, Captain, that I am retired, and time in retirement is a relative thing. Besides, the show ain’t started yet.”

  “You bring your crew with you?” Livingston asked.

  Sarge nodded as a means of response. “Yeah, they’re outside. Mikey’s out there trying to get into Jamie’s pants.”

  Livingston sat in one of the chairs occupying the ancillary side of the desk. “Good luck with that,” he said with a snort.

  Sarge lowered himself into the other chair. “Ah, gives the boy something to do.”

  “How’s the hip?” Sheffield asked from across the desk.

  Sarge patted his side. “It’s getting better every day. I figure another week and it’ll be back to normal.”

  “That’s some good news.”

  “Them DHS boys know they’re going on a road trip today?” Sarge asked.

  “We’ve tried to keep it quiet, but we’ll see soon enough,” Livingston said.

  “I’ll be glad to be rid of them, personally,” Sheffield said.

  “I bet, where are they going?” Sarge asked.

  “Frostproof. There’s a larger camp there, actually set up as a detention facility. Command wants them there,” Livingston replied.

  A petite brunette stuck her head in the door. “Main gate just called, said the buses are pulling up now.”

  “Thanks, Corporal,” Sheffield responded. Looking at Sarge, he said, “Let’s get the show on the road. I’m ready to be rid of these bastards.”

  “Ain’t that the truth!” Livingston shouted. “Also, gentlemen, we need to talk. I got orders today to close the camp,” Sheffield said.

  Sarge’s hairy eyebrows seemed to climb up his forehead. “Really? I didn’t think they’d have the stones to do it.”

  “I questioned their reasoning, but they made it clear: we are not in the refugee business. We’re to close the camp after the DHS boys are out of here.”

  “We’ve already started demobilization,” Livingston said.

  “Good. Close the camp, put them on the road. It ain’t your job to take care of ’em. Your goal was to liberate, and you did,” Sarge said matter-of-factly.

  “I asked where they thought they would go. I told them we can’t just put them out on the road,” Sheffield said.

  “How the hell are you going to take care of them? You got supplies coming in?” Sarge waved his arm, sweeping the camp. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Cut off support—you need to look out for your own. Hell, we’re living off that river ourselves. You guys aren’t feeding us.”

  “I just don’t know if we can do that,” Sheffield said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what these people would do without our support, not to mention we already have a bunch of civilians we’re taking care of: all the family members of our guys.”

  “Shit, it’s not your prerogative! Besides, you’ve got orders. You have to take care of the families of your men—if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have any troops. These people will be fine. Look at Morgan and his bunch. They’re getting by. Sure, they aren’t living the high life, but they aren’t here begging at the door either. Times are tough, times are hard, kick their asses out of the yard.” Sarge smiled at his little rhyme.

  Sheffield was shaking his head. “You really are a mean ole bastard, aren’t you? You got any compassion for people?”

  “Sure I do, plenty of it for people who help themselves. But I can’t spare a shit for those who won’t. That’s what was wrong with our society before things went to hell. Too many people thinking they were entitled or owed something just for being born. The only thing each of them is owed is the chance to try.” Sarge stood up. “Hell, this was probably the best thing to happen to this country. If we come out of it on the other side, we’ll be better for it. The playing field’s been leveled. Everyone pretty much went back to square one.”

  “Not everyone was set back to zero. Your buddy Morgan and his friends got all sorts of stuff most people don’t have. He didn’t have to start from scratch.”

  “Because he planned ahead. And you really have no idea the kind of shit he went through just trying to get home to his family. When he showed up at my place he was nearly dead. But he ain’t sat around on his ass crying poor mouth. He’s out there making a go of it. Everyone over there is. Hell, they’ve got quite the little community going on now.”

  “He’s right, Captain. Plus, we’ve got orders,” Livingston said.

  “So you want to put everyone out? You’re taking his side?” Sheffield asked.

  “I’m not taking sides, it’s just a simple fact. Our obligation is to maintain our force and provide security. I don’t think we should be responsible to take care of everyone. Hell, half these people around here don’t want to lift a finger now. The DHS made them work, so they did, but now that we’re here and not pushing them around at gunpoint, they aren’t so keen on helping themselves or helping us help them.”

  “Did they give you any reason for closing the camp?” Sarge asked.

  “Their reasoning was pretty simple: they can’t provide enough supplies to us to support a few hundred refugees. The colonel said now everyone is essentially a refugee, so people are just going to have to take care of themselves. I don’t agree with it, but that’s what I got.”

  “So where are you guys going?” Sarge asked.

  “Back to the armory. They want us back there as soon as we can m
anage,” Sheffield replied.

  Sarge stared at the floor, nodding, thinking it over. “So I assume they have some sort of plan for you guys.”

  “Yes, they do, but I don’t know yet what it is. I was just told to get moved and stand by.”

  “I can hardly wait to hear what it is,” Livingston said sarcastically.

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I agree with them. These folks need to take care of themselves—you can’t do it for them,” Sarge replied.

  “What do you think these people are going to do? Where do you think they’re going to go? Some of them are from as far away as Gainesville. How are they going to get back?” Sheffield asked.

  “Again, not our fucking problem. They’ll have to figure it out. If it makes you feel better, load ’em up with some supplies—food, water, and the like. Then it’s up to them, not us.”

  Sheffield’s face flashed with anger. “We’ll worry about this later. Right now we’ve got a job to do, so let’s get to it.”

  The three men left the office to find Ted, Doc, Mike, and Jamie hanging out around the Hummer out front. Sarge and crew got in theirs while Sheffield, Livingston, and Jamie got in the other. Mike followed Jamie as she drove through the camp.

  “This should be fun,” Ted said, riding in the back with his elbow propped on the open window.

  “I just hope it goes smooth,” Mike replied.

  “It’ll be all right. If they start any shit, putting a couple of them in the dirt should take care of it,” Sarge added.

  The Hummers stopped in front of a couple of tents ringed by Guardsmen. Four buses sat off the main road into the camp, doors open, with their drivers and security milling around. There were also two Hummers, one in the lead and one at the rear of the column. Both of these had belt-fed weapons mounted to their turrets.

  Sheffield stepped out of the Hummer and looked around. Seeing Ian, he called him over. As Ian approached, Sheffield asked, “Everyone ready?”

  Ian nodded. “Sure thing, boss. We’ve broken them up into four groups. The guys at the bus will cuff them up with flex cuffs as they get on.”

  Sheffield nodded. “Do they know what’s going on yet?”

  “They know something is up, just not sure what.”

  “You pass the rules of engagement along?” Livingston asked.

  “Everyone’s clear.”

  “What’s the ROE?” Sarge asked as he came up to the group.

  Sheffield looked at him. “No shooting unless absolutely necessary. That applies to you guys too,” he pointed at Mike, Ted, and Doc.

  “No worries, boss man,” Mike said with a grin. Doc held up his hands in mock surrender.

  “All right, Ian, get the first bus up here and let’s get ’em loaded,” Livingston said.

  Ian nodded and turned to face the buses. Whistling, he waved an arm at the lead bus. The bus quickly began to move up toward the tents where the DHS personnel were being guarded.

  “I’m going to sit here and enjoy the show,” Sarge said as he leaned back against the hood of Sheffield’s Hummer.

  Jamie followed Ian to the tent where Perez and several Guardsmen stood at the entry.

  “All right, Perez, let’s get the first group out,” Ian said.

  Perez nodded and opened the door, telling one of the soldiers inside to bring out the first group. The soldiers outside formed a loose cordon to the door of the bus. Soon the DHS folks were walking out, looking unsure of what was going on. The lead agent asked the obvious question, “Where are we going?”

  “Don’t worry about it, just head for the bus,” Perez said.

  “This is bullshit! Where are we going? What’s going on?”

  Soon they were all shouting questions. Sarge was grinning as he watched the proceedings. The old man looked over at Ted. “Teddy, go get them bastards moving.”

  Ted and Mike quickly started to move toward the action. “Roger that, boss.”

  “What are you doing?” Livingston asked.

  “LT, this shit is going to take forever if we don’t get them moving. They just need to know you guys are serious.”

  “We said no shooting,” Sheffield said, pointing at the knots of civilians that were still gathering to watch the proceedings. “We can’t risk a firefight with all these people around here.”

  “Don’t worry, Captain, they aren’t going to shoot anyone. Yet.”

  Sheffield and Livingston both looked back to the bus, unsure of what was about to happen.

  As Ted approached he heard one of the DHS agents. “We aren’t going anywhere until we know what’s going on. Where are you taking us?”

  Ted stepped through the soldiers. “Shut up and get on the bus! It’s the only time I’m going to say it.”

  The agent looked at Ted. “Or wha—” He was cut off by the pop of Mike’s Taser. The agent immediately went rigid and fell backward. None of his fellows bothered to catch him—they actually stepped aside, allowing him to hit the ground.

  “Anyone else want to know what’s going on?” Ted asked.

  The suddenness of the action startled the other agents in line, their only reply the silent shaking of their heads.

  Ted pointed to the stricken agent. “Get him on his feet and on that bus.” Ted looked at Mike. “Leave those in him until he’s cuffed up.”

  Mike looked at the man he’d just tased. “Let’s go, Princess.”

  Without any further complaint, the agent moved to the bus, where the security personnel secured his hands behind his back with the flex cuffs. The others were all likewise secured and the bus was quickly loaded. It pulled forward to allow the next in line to pull up and the process was started again with the next bus.

  Sarge was laughing to himself. “Told you boys. He didn’t shoot anyone.”

  Neither Sheffield nor Livingston replied, they simply watched as the next two buses were loaded without any further incident. The fourth bus pulled up and the process was started for the final time. This one would carry the officers and any deemed troublemakers. Early on they had been segregated to keep them from instigating any trouble with the rank and file agents.

  Charles Tabor was the first to come out. He looked around, scanning the crowd. When his eyes landed on Sarge, Sheffield, and Livingston, he was incensed. Sarge tipped his hat sarcastically as Tabor waited to be cuffed up, his trusty sidekick Ed right behind him.

  Next up was Singer. When she came out, Jamie patiently waited for her opportunity to make eye contact. As usual Singer had that same miserable look on her face, as though she perpetually smelled shit. Jamie shook her head. What a miserable bitch, she thought. Singer squinted against the intense afternoon light. When they locked eyes, a slight smile cut Jamie’s face as she winked at her. Singer’s sneer morphed into a snarl of sorts, which only brought Jamie more pleasure.

  As these priority prisoners were being led toward the bus, Calvin and Shane walked up to where Sarge was reclining against the front of a Hummer.

  “How’s it going, there, Linus?” Calvin asked.

  “Fair ta middlin’, how’s the ribs?”

  “Getting better. Would be a lot better if I were at home, though.”

  Sarge stood up. “I was going to ask why you’re still here—I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

  Calvin nodded toward Sheffield, then replied, “They told us we were free to leave, but it’s a long walk, and in my current condition, it’s just not possible.”

  “Plus we don’t have any weapons. Ours were confiscated when we came in here, and now they’ve gotten mixed in from when they did the inventory a few weeks ago,” Shane added.

  Sheffield let out a long sigh, exasperated. “I’m sorry. I told you guys I don’t have the manpower right now to go checking for your specific hardware. Like I said, as soon as we get rid of these guys, I’ll see what I can do.”

  As they were talking a group of four civilians moved toward the front of the bus. Livingston saw them and called out, “Jamie, get them out of there.”
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  Jamie approached them, pointing her weapon in their general direction. “Move away from here, now, please,” she said in a stern voice.

  The four men looked at one another and began backing away. Jamie turned her attention back to the last group to be loaded. When the first of the group was about to be cuffed, Tabor shouted, “Now!”

  The group suddenly erupted, each of them grabbing the nearest Guardsmen and trying to take their weapons. Jamie quickly moved into the fray, striking one man in the face with the butt of her M4. She was tackled from the side, going down hard. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that sneer and the red hair.

  At the same moment the four civilians who had been ordered away from the bus broke into a sprint, running toward the brawl now taking place. Sarge stood passively, analyzing what was going on. He saw the four men running toward the melee. Calmly drawing his .45, he fired an offhand shot at the lead man, striking him in the abdomen. The man crumpled on the ground, his comrade who was trailing behind him, falling on top of him. The other two paused for a moment, the shot catching them off guard. Looking around they saw Sarge, pistol leveled at them. Hesitating for a moment they looked at each other, and then turned and took off at a run, leaving the other two behind.

  Shane and Calvin were stunned by the suddenness of what was going on. At the bark of Sarge’s pistol, Shane looked over to the two men on the ground, one obviously wounded, the other getting to his feet. “Son of a bitch!” Shane shouted.

  Sarge looked at him. “What?”

  Pointing to the man getting up, Shane shrieked, “He’s one of them!”

  It was Niigata, unmistakably, even though he was wearing civilian clothes. Shane’s face twisted with hatred at the sight of his torturer. Sprinting up to him, Shane went to deliver a kick. It was a clumsy effort, which Niigata caught, raising Shane’s leg over his head and delivering an open-palm strike to Shane’s groin. Shane let out a groan and fell to the side. Taking advantage of the hit, Niigata started to rise to his feet. But before he could stand upright another shot rang out and the dirt between his feet erupted. Niigata looked down, then up to see Sarge holding a leveled pistol at him. While confident of his skills, he knew there was no way he would outrun a bullet. Niigata surrendered, raising his hands and lowering himself to a kneeling position.