by Ian Daniels
"You done?" he asked harshly and reached his hand down to help pull me to my feet again. It was the first time he had ever hit me. I didn’t like it.
"Oh yeah, I'm done."
I didn’t really blame him for the cheap shot, although I did think it was pretty stupid of him. I knew he had developed some delusion of being a throwback cowboy who didn’t put up with anything and it was okay to pop someone in the mouth. To me, it was a joke of a facade, knowing that it was a veiled cover, adopted to make up for whatever else it was that he wanted to be, but naturally wasn’t.
I knew that and still I had pushed him. Having a best friend was hard, but maybe my guilty conscience was looking for a little punishment too and apparently he was the perfect one to dish it out for me.
Chapter 13
“People coming up that might need shooting," Danielle joked fatalistically and nudged me awake with her foot. After another hour and a half of walking, mostly heavily lost in thought, I had laid down to grab a quick cat nap and recharge my energy, and my nerves, while we took a lunch break.
"What? Who? And where?" I asked her and then opened my eyes.
"That way," she pointed. "The guys are already on their way to check it out; about a hundred yards from here."
"How'd you find them?"
"Went looking for potty spot and saw their movement on the next hill over."
"And you didn’t just shoot em?" I smirked, playing into her new found embrace of pessimism.
"Funny. No, I could see them but they’re too far out for me anyway,” she looked down at the little M1 Carbine in her hands.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, grabbed my gear, and followed Danielle in the direction she had pointed. A minute later we found Clint snuggled up to the scope on his SMLE and Blake lying prone and looking over the top of his FAL through binoculars. As I joined them, the two looked over at me slinging up in my AK74, Clint with an almost proud expression, and Blake with a quizzical, dismissive one.
“Will that even do anything from this far back?” Blake asked in a hushed voice, ignoring our most recent altercation and returning to the previous debate of assuming that the little AK with a reputation of inaccuracy could not hang with the big guns.
I ignored him for the moment and just continued to get settled into a good position I could shoot from if it was needed. Seeing this, Clint answered for me.
“I’ve seen him and that gun do stuff I didn’t think was possible. If he shoots, it’s for a reason,” he defended me, also giving a nod my way in a small apology for wondering if I was up for the job back at the trailer shooting.
Blake still stared at me unconvinced so I added my own style of answer to his questions that I was frankly getting tired of.
“What? You don’t think an ice pick to the brain will rearrange somebody’s day?”
Looking out over the field I caught just the tail end of a small group headed slightly parallel and thankfully away from our own line of travel.
Clint lifted his head away from the scope and rose up to retrieve his pad of paper and map. "Group of seven. Camo, long guns, only three had packs. Short range patrol maybe," he quickly summarized.
Looking over his shoulder I saw him take a compass bearing on their direction, then draw a line on the map. The line pointed in the general vicinity of a place I knew all too well. There was only one road and on it lived my friends the Parvishs. The road also connected to the church we were headed towards, although it was about a mile from their house.
Clint looked up at me and I let out my breath, again not having a better answer than to just keep doing what we were doing, no matter how badly the deck continually stacked up against us.
"Okay, you guys stay on this line. I'm going to bird dog them just to be nosey and see where they're headed and what they're up to out here," I announced to the others.
"Say what?" Blake whispered back even though the group was clearly out of earshot.
"Looks to me like we’re all going to the same place anyway, but just to be sure I want to get a handle on who we’re out here with," I told him.
Clint looked slightly unsure at first and then nodded his agreement.
"Stay in radio contact and meet up... here in an hour," I checked my watch and pointed to a flat patch of ground just outside the church area.
"I'll come with you," Blake volunteered.
"I got this one. One guy can stay out of sight easier and if they see me, it's only me and not all of us. Shouldn’t be an issue though," I concluded and finished the granola bar I had been munching on.
I didn’t want a repeat of Blake's slip up with the four kids from the other day and maybe more over, I just wanted a little time to myself.
Fifty minutes later I had peeled off from the group's path which had veered away from the church and met back up with the others. I had only loosely followed the group, giving myself plenty of distance and basically paralleling their movements since we were all headed in the same direction anyway.
After linking back up with Clint, Blake and Danielle, we hunkered down just within earshot of the church, listening to the distant hum coming from a big power generator.
“I think we found out where our buddies in camo were headed,” Clint said from under his parka hood.
"I'm telling you there's no way. They hooked off to the west and this group was already here," I defended myself.
We had stopped on a small rise just out of a thin tree line and were watching the activity at the church. For thirty minutes now we watched the arrival of the church goers. Of special note were the figures that the patrons merrily greeted who were standing outside the entrance to the church's main doors. Clint slowly lowered the binoculars from his eyes and made another note on his pad of paper.
It was Sunday today, or so I was told, and it looked like the church was still attempting to hold late services. That was normal enough, even admirable. The unusual part was how they were doing it with armed guards present. It seemed like all the people were free to come and go at will, as long as they used the front door, so it was hard to know what exactly to make of the scene.
We had counted five “guards” in all, but those were just the ones we could see. It was pretty easy to guess at who was who. There were families, some dressed in their normal formal church attire and others dressed down a bit in work clothes or bundled up against the cold weather, then there were the guys in camouflage with long guns slung on their backs.
"Well then the alternative is that there is a good sized group that we keep running into separate parts of," Danielle summarized.
I put my little monocular up to my eye, looking for one more thing before I was ready to make my recommendation on us just getting the heck out of there.
“Everyone is leaving their guns at the door,” I pointed out.
The few people who did walk up to the church that were openly carrying a firearm were intently watched by the official guys with guns until they got up to the entrance. Then, at least from our vantage point, each one seemingly voluntarily turned their gun over for safe keeping before entering the glass front lobby door.
“Probably just local guys running security, looks legit enough,” Blake thought out loud.
“Good, then you can go test it and see how friendly they are,” I supplied helpfully.
“Why are we here again?” Danielle’s question wasn’t off base, but it was close enough to complaining that it irritated me and I could feel a small headache coming on.
“I’ve got friends here that have a lot to offer and I’d like to get set up with them at least on some radio channels so we can help each other out,” I reminded her unnecessarily.
“Friends that you haven’t heard from in months and nobody else has heard from in weeks. And armed guards fit into your plan too?” she pushed again.
“Obviously they don’t or else we wouldn’t be here lying on the freezing ass ground, scoping them out with high powered rifles,” I said, relieving a bit of my irritation.
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“You still want to go in?” Clint asked, getting us back on track.
“I don’t know. Henry and his boys are pretty dang squared away. If there was a problem, they would’ve rallied the troops. And also, they are definitely the type of people we want to be around during all this,” I reasoned against my own pessimistic view.
“Okay, so let’s go say hello,” Clint directed. “I say just two go in at first. Two is non-threatening and easy to explain. Four of us armed up is a show of force. Whether the guards are legit or not, you want to look as non-threatening as possible. The other two can cover you from here.
“You know, the husband wife tandem usually looks pretty non-threatening. Blake can behave himself long enough in a church I think,” I offered hopefully.
“Oh no you don’t, you are going in. You’re the one that knows the people here,” Clint said, although I could tell he was trying hard to contain a smile.
It was true; I knew a lot of the church members. The problem was I was only on good standings with about a quarter of them and I sure as hell didn’t want to run into my ex-girlfriend or her parents.
“How about the old man and nice young girl approach?" I made one more pitch, which at "old man," Clint’s lone middle finger came up in my direction.
“Okay,” I sighed in defeat, “Danielle, it’s you and me. We’ll back track a little to come up from the other side over there,” I pointed. “Go nice and easy, guns slung, wave and smile… and if anyone asks, you’re my deaf and mute sister. Got it?”
“Yeah thanks,” she muttered unhappily.
“Radio check?” I spoke into my push to talk microphone that was still connected to the little hand held radio in my pocket. I had the line running inside of my jacket to be as concealed as possible but Blake and Clint would be able to hear everything I wanted them to hear, and as before with Blake and the Road Warrior Kids, they could relay information and direct us as needed.
“Copy,” they each replied in turn.
“Alright… shit. Let’s go,” I said, finally unable to stall any longer.
We eased back off the little hillside and worked our way around the other side so as to appear as though we were walking in from a different direction and not point right back to Blake and Clint’s hiding spot. We had been on our feet for hours but after laying still in the cold, it felt nice to get our legs warmed up and moving again.
By the time we got around to the side and walked up through the open meadow, I had a big suspicion that our efforts to conceal where we had come from were unnecessary. No one even looked once, let alone twice at us, until we got up to the concrete pad at the main entrance of the church.
“Good morning folks,” a nice older guy acting as a door greeter offered us a cut sheet of paper that was serving as their itinerary and bulletin for the day. He was dressed in a suit under a heavy coat and his gray hair contrasted with his rosy checks and nose. I didn’t recognize him, but I hadn’t exactly been much of a regular here lately.
“Once you check your firearms in, feel free to go on inside and get warmed up. We’re running a few minutes late today but there should be something warm to drink before services get started,” he told us.
“Oh we’ll probably just keep these with us if it’s all the same, I'll definitely take you up on a cup of coffee though,” I said, making sure to sound happy and carefree and actually feeling encouraged about the prospect of caffeine.
But boy did that simple statement get the attention of the two camo clad guys with rifles now in their hands that were standing just off to the side of the entrance. One was not quite middle aged, good sized if not quite as big as I was, and had a nice looking M1A. The other was young, maybe out of high school, and couldn’t have been taller than five foot four or weigh more than a hundred and forty pounds. He had a long neck, a closely buzzed hair cut under his black knit watch cap, and one of those gangle tooth things that you had trouble not staring at. He was also holding a shiny Mini-14 to compliment his canvas web gear and there was a short tomahawk on his belt where a pistol normally would have been.
“It’s not all the same… sir,” the older one walked a little closer to where we were standing.
They had both swiveled to squarely face us and were doing their best to look official and threatening, but they had a small problem, I wasn’t easily impressed or intimidated.
“Hmm, yeah well, good for it then. Have a nice day guys,” I yawned and continued to walk casually towards the door with Danielle thankfully right in step with me.
“Sir please stop right there!” the older of the two directed at me a little louder this time. “There are no un-authorized firearms allowed inside the church.”
“Un-authorized?” I repeated, still trying to hide the ridicule in my voice. Danielle cleared her throat noisily to let me know I wasn’t doing a very good job.
“If you two want to go in, you will leave your guns outside,” The younger and smaller guard said. Where it came a little more naturally to the older one, I could tell the kid was having to try hard to look and sound menacing.
“Under whose authority?” I asked the older one, ignoring the little guy who was now glaring at me.
“The Captain of the Lightfoot Brigade Militia, and the elders of this Church,” he answered in a straight forward manor, as if that information should impress me.
“Well we aren’t under his command, but I like the idea that you guys can’t carry your guns inside... your safety is on backwards.” I told the kid who quizzically looked down at his Mini-14, momentarily distracting him and giving me enough time to get through the front door.
“Stop right there!” the older one commanded, bringing a few extra heads swiveling around inside the lobby to see what the commotion was.
“Oh for the love of…” I started to say and then noticed that the guy had slapped his M1A up to his shoulder and had it trained on my chest.
“DO NOT MOVE!” the younger one yelled, his voice cracking slightly.
My hands were still at my sides and within reach of the pistol under my shirt but the guy with the M1A had me square on and at twenty feet; it would be a Sunday Church Miracle if he were to miss.
“We are just here for the service and to visit some friends. We aren’t going to be any trouble,” Danielle interjected gently. “If you don’t want someone besides yourselves to have a gun, then that’s your prerogative, but we aren’t here to cause any problems."
“Look, we’ll clear them if it’ll make you feel better, but our property stays with us,” I offered, still keeping my hands in a neutral spot least the two militia bad asses get jumpy.
“That’s not how it works,” the big one said stubbornly.
“Well it is how it works this time,” I stated and very slowly moved to release the magazine and eject the round from the AK slung on my back. “If you don’t like it, I suggest you go find your Captain. In fact, you probably ought to do that regardless. I’d like to meet the man who has authority over me,” I mocked.
The two of them looked back and forth at each other a few times then lowered their guns slightly, if not completely. I slipped the magazine and single round into my back pocket, feeling very aware of how empty my AK now was.
“Go ahead, this guy isn’t going to let us go anywhere, are you little fella?” I reassured the big one as Danielle cleared her throat at me again.
The M1A toting camo guy whispered something into the ear of his miniature counterpart and then disappeared down the hallway to go find someone to give a report to. I was shaking my head slightly in annoyance and amusement when a friendly and warm voice spoke up behind me.
“You just love ticking people off don’t you?”
“Hey Grant, been a long time,” I turned around and shook the bearded man’s hand.
“Danielle this is Grant, the best lumberjack you’ll ever meet,” I introduced the two with a laugh. The perplexed kid with the ranch carbine aimed at my lower back was momentarily forgotten as I recognize
d Grant’s friendly face.
“How’ve you been?” I asked, honestly happy to see him.
“Oh I’ve been getting along just fine. The kids and grand kids moved up here last month and are shacked up with me at the house so it’s a little tight, but we’re warm and happy to all be together,” he replied. “Hey, you aren’t here with the family are you? I thought they moved?”
“Moved?” I didn’t hide my surprise. “If they did then they didn’t tell me. Guess I'm not surprised that they didn’t… but no, we were just in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop in and say hi. I was actually hoping to catch the Parvishs. Have you seen them around?”
“Oh,” he replied eyeing Danielle with a not quite approving glance. Maybe showing up with a new woman was not going to help my image here very much. “No, I haven’t seen any of them lately, but they're usually late anyhow.”
“Grant, what’s with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum over there?” I nodded my head towards the entrance. “You guy's been having enough problems out here that you need armed guards?”
“A few weeks back we had some people come through and try to rob the kitchen. There were a few gals working in there, getting ready for a potluck for the next day. They were just desperate and hungry and the girls offered them some food freely, but they freaked out and shot old Prudence Crane when the old bat wouldn’t give up the potato salad she had been working on,” he shook his head sadly.
“These boys are from one or two towns over and had some family, a cousin or something that used to attend here. They showed up the next day after Mrs. Crane died. The way I hear it, their family had moved on a while before. They helped with the burial and have been helping us out here ever since.”
“And no guns allowed? Pastor Bill is a shooter; I’ve shot clays with him out behind the church... what made him sign off on something like this?” I asked slightly stunned.
“Pastor’s gone, got called out to another congregation. Church board is running things these days. You’ve been gone a long time,” he answered with a hint of good old fashioned religious guilt thrown in at the end.