by Rounds, Mark
“Did you hear what happened to that lawyer, Taylor,” said Grieb as they settled down to eat.
“Nope, what did he do this time?” said Chad.
“It’s not what he did. Apparently, some gang banger tried to blow him away.”
“Is he OK?” asked Chad with alarm. His life would become much more complicated if Clinton wasn’t running interference for him. Not to mention that he liked the guy and was grateful for the help with his son’s issues.
“He is quite alright,” said Clinton as he came up behind them.
“I am glad to hear that,” said Chad relieved. “But what happened?”
“I am apparently too predictable,” said Clinton as he sat down with his coffee. “I was headed out to my car this morning to go to work and a beat up, rusty red Ford Mustang with no plates and no muffler roared up to my driveway and the passenger took several shots at me.”
“Must have been a poor shot,” said Terry laughing.
“Actually no, he fired five times and four of them hit me.”
“You look pretty spry for a man with four bullets in him.”
“I said they hit me, none penetrated. I have worn a Kevlar vest since I was a junior prosecutor for Richland. Seems I made some enemies in certain less than savory circles. When I began to return fire, they took off. I think I hit them but …”
“You returned fire?” said Grieb with alarm. “Since when did you start packing?”
“Since Desert Storm,” said Clinton with a light air. “Remind me to tell you how I won that war single handedly and personally punched Saddam Hussein in the nose.”
“I’ll pass,” said Grieb as he got up to leave. “No one ever said working here would be boring.”
“Speaking of which,” said Clinton after Terry had left. “I’d like you to go look at my car. I think it might have been damaged in the shooting.”
“Sure,” said Chad, “though I am not a professional mechanic, just the shade tree sort.”
“Come, come, everyone knows about your obsession with that 68 Camaro you drive only on really sunny days.”
They left, went outside to the parking and in the parking lot, far from the building. Then they knelt down to inspect the fender of Clinton’s immaculate Mercedes.
“Clinton, I can’t see anything wrong with this,” said Chad after peering at the fender.
“Don’t get up,” said Clinton as he pointed an imaginary blemish. “The car is perfectly fine. The only bullet that wasn’t lodged in my vest is stuck in my garage door. But I wanted to talk you for a moment without arousing suspicion. I think you and I have made an enemy. This shooting is not a left over from my days as a prosecutor.”
“Who would do such a thing?” asked Chad trying very hard not to let it show. “The only enemy I have made recently is Macklin. He’s a jerk but I don’t think …”
“Chad, you do statistics and you are damned good at it. I do law and I have dealt with bad guys for a while. I recognized one of the shooters. He is a gun for hire. He has spent some time in the state pen, has a drug problem, and he is too stupid to do anything else with his life. He is just the kind of guy someone like Macklin, who knows almost nothing about criminals, would hire.”
“But Macklin is a cop?!”
“Homeland Security special agents are more analysts and coordinators than law enforcement experts. Sometimes things are not as they seem. My sins as a prosecutor are old news. The real bad ones are still in jail and the others have bigger axes to grind. I have mulled this over and I think Macklin is up to more than just the government’s business.
“I recommend that you drive home by different routes. If you shoot well, have a gun in your car. Watch your family. I recall you served for a while in the Air Force. I could be wrong but I think he is up to something and we are in the way.
“There, I think we have stared at this fine automobile long enough. I’ll walk you inside.”
May 13th, Thursday, 09:12am PDT
Heather Tunney was in the WinCo Foods outlet off of Columbia Point Drive in Richland. Since her layoff, she had been helping Dave Tippet acquire more things on his list and spreading the purchases around so that folks didn’t think they had enough supplies to be a target. The shelves in all the stores were starting to get bare as more and more people began stocking up.
In her cart were two cases of bottled water, a case of black beans and another of American Beauty pasta along with a gallon of milk, assorted fresh vegetables, and a dozen eggs as cover. She also had an Italian sub for her lunch. She loved the darned things and her exercise addiction meant she could eat most anything she wanted. She was still thinking about when to move up the hill to Dave’s house when her turn came at the checkout counter. She missed the first remark from the young man behind the counter.
“I am sorry,” said Heather. “I was thinking of something else, what did you say?”
“Ma’am, I can’t let you buy two cases of bottled water. Store policy is one per customer. We don’t have that many left.”
Dave, Mary, and Heather had discussed what to say when this happened as it was occurring more and more. Their plan was to act nonchalant and agree with whatever the store personnel said. There were no items on their list that individually rated creating a scene.
“Oh sure,” said Heather taking one of the cases and putting it on the conveyor. “I do fun runs and we were planning for Fiasco in Pasco Duathlon. We needed some for the water stations but we can do cups just as easy.”
“Thanks ma’am,” said the young man looking relieved. Apparently some of the customers had not taken kindly to purchasing limitations.
The front door banged open. A large man was holding onto the hand of very scared young girl. Heather with a start recognized the girl as one of Ginger’s classmates and the man was her father. He didn’t look healthy as he was pale and sweating. It reminded her all too clearly of the father of the bride who went down at Bookwalter’s last week.
“Daddy, let me go, you’re hurting me,” said the little girl plaintively, whose name was Lindsey Talbot she remembered. She squirmed and tried to get away but her father had a death grip on her arm.
Heather remembered her and her father from a PTA meeting at the beginning of the term. The Larry Talbot she met at the PTA meeting had been a shy, gentle giant of a man with a ready smile.
The young man behind the counter had pulled out his cell phone. Clearly he had instructions when someone came in like this. But even if he got the police, it would be ten minutes at best before they got here. Heather was worried about the young girl, if her father was infected like the man at the wedding, it wouldn’t be too long before little Lindsey was in danger. If he left the store, there would be no finding him. Heather put on her best customer face and smiled.
“Hi Mr. Talbot,” said Heather brightly, I remember you from the PTA meeting in September. Hi, I am Ginger’s mom.”
“I am so hungry,” said Talbot as with difficulty, he focused on Heather. “My wife is … sick. But I need food!”
“Well, you have certainly come to the right place for it,” said Heather. As she got closer, she realized that he smelled like spoiled meat. “Why don’t I take care of little Lindsey while you go …”
“Noooooo!” wailed Talbert. “I have to watch her ... my wife said.”
“Of course she did,” said Heather. “But remember when Lindsey came over to our house for Ginger’s birthday party and sleep over? She was a nice, well behaved girl. You should be proud. I just wanted to talk to her about a surprise party for Ginger. Could she chat with me while you shop?”
“Um … I don’t know … can’t think so good … my wife is … sick …. I ‘m so hungry.”
Heather reached into her shopping cart and pulled out her sub sandwich and offered it to Larry. Without saying a word, he grabbed it with both hands, and began eating it, plastic wrap, Styrofoam tray, and all.
Heather took the moment of distraction and grabbed Lindsey and pushed her behi
nd her shopping cart. She caught the eye of the older lady behind her who nodded, took Lindsey and walked back toward the bakery. Lindsey was frightened and confused, but she went with the flow.
The sandwich did not last long, perhaps thirty seconds, but it was long enough. Lindsey was out of sight. Once out of sight, Larry seemed to have lost all awareness of his daughter and began pawing through Heather’s cart for more food. He began drinking the milk from the carton and crunching the carrots without taking time to remove them from the cellophane. Heather abandoned the cart and retreated down the aisle. She wasn’t going to be a hero for a hundred dollars’ worth of groceries she hadn’t paid for. As she retreated down the aisle, she heard the front doors slam open and the telltale whine of Tasers getting ready to be deployed.
Chapter 7
May 13th, Wednesday, 07:30 pm PDT
Dave Tippet pulled into his driveway. It hadn’t been a very good day. He had been out trying to gather more things for his survival shopping list, but his truck was mostly empty. There was no ammunition to be had, save the two boxes of rather elderly 30-30 that he had picked up at a gun shop. There were no firearms to be had at any price. He had gathered three cases of water and small quantity of canned goods. With bulk commodities, had had done a little better and had managed to acquire two fifty pound sacks of flour and a twenty-five pound sack of split peas. He had also acquired a couple of propane tanks and one jerry can of gasoline. Not much for a whole day of shopping.
He began unloading the truck and silently cursed his bad hip. All that sitting and then trying to shift that full gas can from ground to the truck when he had loaded it hurt so bad that he had had to sit in his truck for fifteen minutes at the service station until he could drive. He saw Connor in front of the Strickland’s house and he waved him over.
“Connor, could you unload this stuff for me and put it in the garage,” said David. It was all he could do not to gasp as he got out of the truck.
“Sure, Mr. Tippet,” said Connor. “Ms. Tunney is over at our house with her kids. She wanted to talk to you. She didn’t look so good.”
Dave groaned inside.
“Now what?” he thought irritably.
“Right, tell her I’ll be over in five,” said David trying to sound chipper.
He went inside his house and looked longingly at his couch. Getting off his feet would do wonders. Instead he went into his bathroom and took three Aleve. He had some prescription pain killers but they made him feel groggy and sleepy. He also grabbed his cane. He didn’t normally need it but it had been a hard day and he was hurting.
“Dave are you OK?” ask Mary when he came to the door.
“The hip is grinchy is all,” said Dave.
“Could I get you some wine? Heather, Chad, and I are having some.”
“Please.”
“Dave, I need to carry a gun,” said Heather before David could sit down.
“Well that’s not beating around the bush,” said David easing down the couch, glass of wine in hand.
“Stop trying to be funny and listen,” said Heather and then she related her story.
“The worst of it is,” said Heather as she finished her story, “is what the little girl told me as we were waiting for the police to question us. She said that her Mom had gotten sick first and her dad had tried to not tell anyone out fear that they would take her away. He got bit trying to take care of her.”
“How awful,” said Mary.
“It’s worse,” said Heather as she drained her glass. “The mother is just barely lucid. She was tied to her bed at home. Her last cogent request was that her dad should take care of Lindsey. Poor Larry Talbot was very ill himself but apparently he kept his daughter safe for three days as he got sicker and sicker. They ran out of food which is why they were at WinCo. This poor little one saw it all.”
“Who is taking care of her?” asked Mary.
“She is with her grandparents, who are as shaken up as she is.”
“This is what I was afraid of,” said Chad.
“How so?” asked David sipping his wine.
“Folks are now trying to disguise the face when they become infected. There is now a stigma attached to the disease. I suspect there will be lynchings before we are done.”
“Before I go out again, I want a gun. I will not be in a situation like that again. That poor girl was scared to death and all I could think of to do was give her Dad my effing sandwich!”
“That was still pretty quick thinking,” said David. “But I think these shopping trips are about done away, There is little food and what is out there is being rationed. I am surprised it hasn’t been confiscated or sequestered or whatever it is they do.”
“The subject was broached today at our meeting today, but as usual, the Homeland Security guy didn’t want to cause a panic.”
“We are going to need to continue to live off what we can buy on the market,” said David, “and stay away from our supplies as long as we can but we don’t need to do anymore wholesale shopping. From here on out we will go in pairs or more and at least one will be armed. I have a weapon for you to carry Heather, a little Glock 27 in .40 caliber, but we are going to have to get you up to speed with it.”
“I’m ready to go to the range now,” said Heather determinedly.
“You are,” said David, “But I can hardly stand right now. I hate to be a bother but my hip …”
“I am sorry,” said Heather going to his side. “I was just thinking of my troubles and not about …”
“It’s OK,” said Dave smiling. “Give me half an hour on the couch and I’ll be fine.”
“The last time you had the cane out like this,” said Chad, “you got all macho, mowed the lawn and went down for two days. I’ll take Heather out.”
“I have another favor to ask of you Dave,” said Heather, “and I am not sure if now is a good time.”
“Hey, as long you ply me with wine, I am a happy camper,” said Dave.
“I think it’s time to move out of my condo. There might be people in my building that are infected. The kids can’t stay cooped up all the time and there are still things I can do to help out but if you aren’t feeling well …”
“I am more than happy to see you move in. The added bonus is, since I am on light duty for a while, Chad and Connor will do all the heavy lifting.”
May 15th, Friday, 08:44am PDT
Chris Vaughn had developed the habit of showing up at the hospital around 7:30 am with coffee and scones. As usual, he brought plenty and included the nursing staff in the ICU so he was a welcome individual. The cop at the door was gone. He knew from the grape vine that his friends and every uniformed cop and reserve was patrolling and looking for folks who were infected.
“Hey,” said Amber.
“Hey yourself,” said Chris as he sat down. He handed her a berry scone and the latte she usually drank. He settled back with his cup of drip coffee and maple bar. He was still a bit of a cave man in some ways.
“What are we reading today?” asked Amber.
“Well we finished the Roosevelt biography and I wanted a little variety. Have you read Lord of the Rings lately?”
“Not since junior high when the movies came out.”
“Then you are in for a treat. I have here in my hands, the 50th Anniversary Boxed Edition that includes maps, over fifty illustrations and the fully corrected text. By that I mean all the words are the ones Professor Tolkien wrote, not some copy editor.”
“Awesome!”
“This was a gift from my mom when I got my Master’s degree.”
“You, a Master’s?”
“Don’t look so surprised. When I got divorced, I was at loose ends. I started an MBA program, you know for promotion? Well, I am stubborn and I finished and mom knows my geeky side.”
Just then the theme from ‘Firefly’ played on his phone.
“Vaughn here,” said Chris into the phone with a wink at Amber.
“Yes Lieutenant.”
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br /> “Yes sir, I can be there at 1:30.”
“Is the investigation complete?”
“I see, so exactly what is this limited duty?”
“Right, I’ll be there at 1:30.”
“Bye.”
“What was that all about?” asked Amber.
“Apparently, I am going back on limited duty tomorrow.”
“Oh,” said Amber looking sad for a second. If Chris hadn’t been looking right at her, he would have missed it. Then she was chipper and upbeat.
“So what about the investigation?”
“Well, there have been three shooting incidents this week. The lieutenant says that if this keeps up, it will be just him and the dispatcher on patrol. The prosecutor and the department have made a deal and all shooting investigations will go in front of a panel with a judge, the officer’s supervisor and the Assistant DA. If it looks like a good shoot, you will be on ‘limited duty within a week.”
“So what is the limited duty?”
“I get to find out when I go in this afternoon.”
“I suppose that means I won’t see you as much …”
“Well, I will have a day job but I have enjoyed this. Most folks I talk to, don’t read much and don’t think about what they do read. I suppose there isn’t much to think about in Sports Illustrated …”
“Or Cosmo.”
“Yeah, I’ll take you word for it on that. Anyway, what I am spooling up the nerve to say is that, if you’ll have me, I’ll keep coming after work or whenever my schedule will allow. Your company pleases me.”
“I’d like that. But at least take some money for the pizza and coffee and what not that you keep bringing up here. I am still getting paid last I checked and I am not doing anything with it.”
“Amber, I live in a little two bedroom apartment with a TV, a computer, too many books, an old truck, and a collection of firearms. I can afford it.”
“You know what we sound like?” said Amber with a giggle.
“Like two junior high kids trying to go on a date?” said Chris sheepishly.