Becky walked away, and Scott went to his knees before the bricks, and the simple cross behind them.
He didn’t speak aloud to Joyce. Perhaps later on he might feel comfortable doing that. But he wasn’t quite there yet.
Still, in his mind, where only he could hear the words, he expressed his love for the woman and the sorrow he felt for her passing.
He admitted the feelings of guilt he had for not being with her in her final moments. And he apologized for not being able to save her.
Mostly, he relived in his mind some of the good times they’d had together.
Becky was right. It was therapeutic. He felt much better as he started to walk away.
The last thing he told Joyce before he turned to leave was that he loved her, and that he’d be back again.
And he meant it. He’d make a point to stop in anytime he was in the neighborhood. He appreciated Becky, and her making him go through this exercise. Perhaps because she had been there herself, she seemed to know exactly what he needed.
Scott found her at the nurse’s station, filling out paperwork, and thanked her for her efforts.
“I guess nurses heal the hurting in a lot of different ways. Thank you for that.”
“Yes, we do. But we tend to give special attention to the people we care most about.”
He hugged her, promised to come back the next day or two, and asked if it would be okay to pick some wildflowers to place on Joyce’s brick next time.
“I think she’d like that,” Becky said.
She watched him walk away.
She hadn’t wanted it to be this way.
She’d loved Scott almost from the beginning. But she never told anyone. She just accepted that Scott belonged to Joyce and that was that. She’d have lived her life alone if the war at the compound hadn’t happened, and accepted that as just the way it was meant to be.
Now she wanted to run to him, and scream out her love to him, and make him see that they would be good together.
But something told her no. She wouldn’t disrespect his memory of Joyce.
She’d give him time, and some space, and maybe eventually he’d see it himself.
-46-
John Castro parked his police cruiser at the end of Baker Street and hopped over the line of abandoned cars that blocked him from entering. The fact he had a prosthetic leg didn’t slow him down a bit.
Every single resident of the street was gathered at the picnic tables under the old oak tree. The adjacent house had its garage door up, the kids excited in anticipation of the movies they were about to watch.
John was kind to the group, as he was for many other similar groups in this and surrounding neighborhoods.
It was John who’d provided the big screen television, the DVD player and the generator to run them both. And a microwave oven to boot.
He’d taken them from the home of a dead prepper he’d come across a few weeks before. He and his new rookie, Jake, had been doing body collections, and walked into a suburban house in the northwest part of the city.
They could tell by the smell emanating from the house that there were decomposing bodies inside, so they weren’t surprised when no one answered the door.
They also weren’t surprised to find the door was slightly ajar, and that there were bullet holes in it.
Neither was particularly unusual in the city they now lived in.
The scene inside the living room told a story, as they often did.
A man, dressed in camouflage, sat dead in a leaned back recliner, a half eaten MRE in his lap. He was shot once in the back of the head. Possibly an intruder who snuck up on the man after he’s fallen asleep in his chair.
But more likely shot by someone who lived there. A partner, perhaps, who he thought he could trust.
A fatal mistake, to be sure.
John would never know the reason why. Perhaps they had a falling out. Or his partner went mad. In any event, it wasn’t a murder-suicide scenario. There were no other bodies in the house.
John knew immediately the man had been a prepper. The camouflaged clothing, the AR-15 rifle on the floor at the side of the recliner, and the MRE told him that much.
And the fact he appeared to be watching TV when he was shot told him something else. This was a prepper who’d been able to save some electronics. He probably had a Faraday cage in the garage.
After they took the body out to the street and added it to the pile, they went back for some further investigation.
The television, a DVD player and a microwave were all plugged into a power cord leading to the back porch.
On the back porch they found a three thousand watt generator. John opened the gas tank and stuck his finger inside.
As he suspected, the tank was dry. The man had been watching television when he died, and the generator kept running until it ran out of fuel.
John had the rookie look around for a gas can to refill the tank and fire the generator back up. Then they checked the television, the DVD player, and the microwave. Just to make sure John’s theory was correct and they still worked.
They didn’t want to load everything up and take it all to a new home, just to find out it was worthless.
The microwave and DVD player fit nicely in their squad car’s trunk. They placed the generator on top of the truck’s lid and tied it down with rope.
The huge television was a bit trickier. They had to be careful not to break it. So they found two single mattresses from what had once been a kids’ room. One mattress was laid on top of the car, across the light bar and resting on the generator. They laid the television on top of the mattress, and placed the second mattress on top of the television.
Then they tied it all down.
In essence, they made a television sandwich.
In the back room of the house they found a closet full of boxes of MREs. John wondered why the killer left them behind. Perhaps it was an intruder after all, who didn’t know about them.
In the end, it didn’t really matter. They wouldn’t do the dead man any good.
“Let’s see if we can stuff them all into the back seat,” John told his rookie. “We can distribute them to some of the infirm or elderly people around the neighborhood who are having trouble scavenging enough food.”
As they were loading up the MREs, a fire truck pulled up to burn the piles of bodies.
A strapping young fireman stepped out, observed the monstrosity that John had made of his police car, and laughed.
“Playing Santa Claus again today, John?”
John smiled and said, “Hey. It’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it.”
When they’d left the dead man’s house that day, their patrol car looked more like a moving van.
John had laughed when his rookie grumbled, “I feel like one of the Beverly Hillbillies.”
That had been three weeks before. He’d delivered the items to Baker Street, to add a little bit of normalcy to the group’s lives.
And in the three weeks since, the residents of the street had started a new tradition.
After a long day’s work, they gathered each evening around sundown to crank up the generator and watch a couple of movies together.
They’d taken several couches and recliners from the surrounding houses and placed them into the two car garage. They packed them tightly during the daytime, in case it rained. And just before movie time they moved some of them into the driveway so everyone could watch the movies in comfort.
Rhett said to John, “Why don’t you stay and watch movies with us? We’ve got Forrest Gump and Rio Bravo on the schedule for tonight.”
“As much as I’d like to, I can’t. I just wanted to stop in to see if you’ve elected your block leader yet. The city’s trying to compile a list of all the leaders so they can disseminate information about the plague and municipal repairs and stuff better.”
Rhett and Mike looked at each other.
“Gee, John, we haven’t given it much thought. Want u
s to take a vote real quick?”
“No, that’s okay. Just bring it up at your morning get together. I’ll stop back by tomorrow. My shift’s over and I want to get home. I will take some popcorn for the road, though.”
“I’m sorry, my friend. We don’t have any popcorn. We’ve got some potato chips that are only slightly stale, if you’d like some.”
“That’s okay. Enjoy your movies. I’ll stop back by tomorrow.
The following night, John came back to Baker Street, just as he promised.
This time he opened his trunk and took out a case of microwave popcorn.
The kind with extra butter.
And this time he was greeted by Rhett and Scarlett.
“Last night you told me you had no popcorn. I could have said something, but I let it fly because I was tired and wanted to get home. But darn it, I had a craving for popcorn all night long after that, and we didn’t have any at the house either.
“That’s the main reason I brought the microwave along with the television. You can’t build a movie theater without the capability to make popcorn. It just ain’t civilized.
“There are a hundred and forty four packages in this case. That should last you awhile. Let me know when you need more and I’ll deliver.”
“Thanks, John. We’ve been craving popcorn too. But where in the world did you get it?”
“From the Sam’s Club on Kendall Street.”
“But isn’t that looting? And aren’t you a cop?”
John made a face.
“No, it isn’t looting. The city council passed a referendum three months ago, stating it was no longer a crime to take edibles and comfort items from retail establishments, trucks or freight trains. They basically applied the eminent domain laws to seize everything and keep people from starving to death. You guys didn’t know about that?”
“No. It’s the first we heard of it.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Communication is one of the biggest problems we’ve always had. Until now, there just wasn’t a good way to spread the word about things like that.”
“Until now?”
“That’s why the city is asking for the name of a block leader for every street in the city. The police will have a list of them, and when we need to spread important news, we’ll be tasked to go street to street and tell the leaders. It’ll be up to the leaders to make sure everybody on their block gets the word.
“Which is the second reason I came by here. Have you guys elected your block leader yet?’
Rhett said, “Yes. We did this morning. By unanimous vote, it is Scarlett.”
Scarlett beamed.
“Yep. It’s me. There’s a new sheriff in town, and I’m gonna whip this city into shape. Or at least this block. I’m gonna crack the whip. Chop chop, suey suey and all that stuff.”
John raised an eyebrow and looked at Rhett.
“Looks to me like you may have created a monster.”
“Well, what can I say? She’s way meaner than anyone else. Everyone was afraid if they didn’t vote for her she’d beat them senseless.”
Scarlett acted offended.
“Na-uh!”
A voice behind them said, “Uh huh!”
Scarlett turned around to see Andy walking up and adding his two cents.
She said, “Help a girl out here, John. They’re ganging up on me.”
John smiled and said, “Hey, keep me out of this. I’m afraid of you too.”
She stuck out her lower lip and pretended to pout.
“Fine! I’m gonna go make some popcorn and eat it all myself. You stinky old boys can’t have any of it!”
Rhett called behind her, “And how old are you again?”
She lifted her hand in the air and showed him one of her fingers.
-47-
The city council of Kerrville hired two deputies from the posse Tom had joined to rescue Amanda Nowak. They were sent directly to the Sheriff’s Office to meet with Tom and receive their marching orders.
Tom was confident that their heads were in the right place and that they wanted the job to keep the peace, and not to administer vigilante justice. Tom believed that authority and might should be meted out when appropriate, but never overused. He hated rogue cops, or lawmen who used their badges to bully others.
“The council tells me they’ll hire a new assistant within the next couple of days. They’ve got a couple of girls who are competing for the job, and Jim Colson tells me that both of them are capable.
“Once she’s on board, she’ll sit here in the Sheriff’s Office during the days. Officially she’ll be a dispatcher, even though we have no working radios. We’ll call her a dispatcher because it sounds better than secretary. She’ll field complaints and information from the public.
“I’d like for you two to start contacting the citizens. Systematically, a house at a time. Be sure you wear your uniform and announce yourself as you ride up to each ranch house. I expect some residents will still be skittish and suspicious, so if there’s any indication someone may think you’re a threat to them, just turn and leave them in peace. We’ll try again later, after word gets around that we’re back in business.”
“What do we tell them, sheriff?”
“Tell them we’ve got the department up and running again. If they’re having trouble with outlaws or looters, they should tell you, or visit our office during normal business hours and file a report.
“Tell them the city is still hiring, and that if they want to apply for an office or a deputy position to go see the personnel office at city hall.
“And tell them we’re here to help them in any way we can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Paul, you take the west side. Dave, you take the east. It’s a lot of ground to cover, I know. Take good care of your ponies and don’t overwork them. We’ve got several good ones in the stable, so you can switch them off from day to day. We’ll meet here each morning, an hour after daybreak. We’ll compare notes on where everybody will be, so if anyone needs backup we’ll have a rough idea where to gather. Two quick shots means you need help.”
Paul said, “Okay, Sheriff. I’ll start on Holcomb Road and work my way north.”
“And I’ll start on Highway 121 and work south.”
“Good. While you two start your rounds, I’m going to the farm implement places on I-10 to see if I can find some dry batteries.”
Deputy Paul gave Tom a puzzled look.
“I’m going to spend the next few days trying to get a couple of the patrol cars running so I can get you guys off horseback.”
His first two deputies rode off in different directions, and Tom hung a handmade sign on the front door of the Sheriff’s Office.
OUT DOING SHERIFF STUFF
WILL RETURN SOON
The Sheriff’s Office was on the town square in Kerrville, directly across the street from the courthouse, and next door to the county jail.
The jail currently had no residents, but would soon, after the city council hired a few more deputies to help Jim Colson run it and a judge to issue arrest warrants.
Tom tipped his hat to a couple of women walking down the sidewalk toward him, thinking they were just out for a stroll.
“Are you Sheriff Haskins?”
“Yes, ma’am. Yes I am.”
The younger of the two women held out her hand.
“I’m Dawn Hawkins. The city council just hired me to be your day shift dispatcher. They said I should get right over here and get started.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, let’s go back inside.”
He looked inquiringly at the older woman, who explained, “I’m Debbie. I’m Dawn’s mom. I just thought I’d walk her to work on her first day.”
“I’m happy to meet both of you. Shall we go back in?”
“Oh, I’m not here to meddle. I’ll be on my way. Please be gentle with my Dawnie. This will be her first job, other than cashier at the Dairy Queen.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m
sure she’ll be fine. She’ll be off at five p.m. if you’d like to come back and pick her up.”
“Oh, I’d like that, and thank you.”
Tom smiled as he watched the woman walk away. Dawn looked at him and said, “Please don’t mind her, Sheriff. She still treats me like I’m twelve. I’ll do a good job, and I’ll be the best dispatcher you’ve ever had.”
Tom chuckled.
“Well, that won’t be a tough thing to be. You’re the only dispatcher I’ve ever had so far. Let’s get you started.”
They went back inside and he showed her to her desk.
“Now, then. Right now we’ve only got one working radio, and it’s my own personal one. It’s set on the frequency of the compound where I’m staying with friends.
“I’ve got some friends who work for the San Antonio Police Department. They’ve got a guy down there who’s a whiz at electronics. He was able to take all of the SAPD’s radios and replace all the burned out stuff inside them to make them work again. He’s working on six radios for us, as well as our base station, and they should be ready in a couple of weeks.
“In the meantime, we’ve got a major communications problem. Have you ever used a ham radio before?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay. That’s what this is. It was taken from a dead prepper on Farm Road 40 and wired into our antenna. It’s set on the same frequency as the one in my compound. Don’t mess with the frequency, it needs to stay right where it is. You’ll hear some chatter occasionally, but just ignore it.
“If you need me for any reason, call on that radio. Whoever answers, tell them you need to get ahold of Sheriff Haskins. They will call me on my handheld radio and will relay messages back and forth.”
“Yes, sir. What are my other duties?”
“Any time someone comes in the door wanting to fill out a report or file a complaint against somebody, give them one of these forms to fill out. Have them be as thorough as possible, especially when it comes to descriptions of the people who have wronged them. And be sure they put their address or directions to their house so I can come and see them if I have any questions.
An Undeclared War (Countdown to Armageddon Book 4) Page 17