by Joe Nobody
Nick met his gaze, “No, nothing whatsoever. It’s just that I’ve been thinking about giving Grim his own team. According to all reports, he showed leadership above and beyond during events at the Plantation. He was creative and inspirational, taking charge, and saving lives.”
Bishop didn’t react for a bit, instead choosing to inhale a chest full of the smooth, blue smoke. It gave him time to gather his thoughts and form a response.
A mixture of emotions flooded the Texan’s head. While Nick’s words didn’t come as a surprise, Bishop hadn’t expected the topic to come up so soon. Grim had definitely earned a promotion, Nick’s description of the old contractor’s heroics during the battle in Mexico actually a bit understated.
That, however, didn’t mean Bishop wanted to see his team … a unit he had worked so hard to mold and prepare, dissolved. Losing his second in command would mean practically starting over.
Yet, Grim deserved the opportunity, and the Alliance needed all the help it could get.
Finally, Bishop exhaled and sighed, “I hate to see him go, but you’re right. He’s earned the right, over-performing time after time.”
Nick, noticing his friend’s pause, asked, “Why did you hesitate? Is there something I don’t know?”
“No, of course not. I just hate the thought of breaking in a new guy. That’s all.”
Nodding his understanding, Nick patted his friend on the shoulder. “We’ve had a lot of qualified applicants, including a few from Sheriff Watts’s department and the military at Fort Bliss. I’m sure we can find someone who will put up with your bullshit.”
“If he accepts,” Bishop brightened. “For the last year, Grim’s been grumbling about retirement … about hanging up his gun belt and taking up gardening. He might not want a command.”
An image of Grim, the battle-hardened, gruff, old warrior, crawling around in the dirt on his knees while pulling weeds, made Nick burst out with a chest-deep laugh. “That will be the day,” he rumbled. “I can just see him selling tomatoes from a stall at the market. God help the first customer who questions the quality of his organic veggies.”
Bishop had to admit, the vision was both funny and unlikely. Still, Grim had been talking about retirement a lot, and the warrior would have to fill his days with something if he hung up his Kevlar vest. “What team are you thinking of offering the old coot?”
Nick, sensing the glimmer in his friend’s eye, sighed. “Yours. SAINT One.”
A bolt of shock shot up Bishop’s spine, the Texan going steel-rod stiff at his boss’s declaration. “Did I do something? Is there something wrong?”
Again, Nick patted his friend on the shoulder. “No, of course not. You are one of the best men I’ve ever had the pleasure of serving with. The Alliance could you a legion of guys like you.”
Frowning, Bishop’s voice was a mere whisper. “So, you want me to retire and become Mister Stay at Home Dad? Turn in my carbine for an apron? I’m too old to be of use anymore?”
The big man’s laugh was genuine, “Absolutely not. You’re one of the best men in a tight situation that I’ve ever seen. The Alliance can’t afford to have that wonderful talent sitting on the sidelines, and quite frankly, you’d probably lose your sanity in short order. What I want you to do is take charge of a new program Diana and I have been formulating for the last few weeks. I want you to become the dean of a new school of sorts … institute a training program that will gradually transform the SAINT teams into the folds of law enforcement.”
Nearly overwhelmed by it all, Bishop just sat and stared at his boss with a blank expression of puzzlement. Nick took his friend’s posture as a sign to continue. “The Alliance will have every community in Texas integrated with the government within the next six months. We have eight SAINT teams working the last few outliers in the east and south. Sheriff Watts, on the other hand, is begging for the government to shore up law enforcement’s capabilities. As of right now, the council is listening to the regional governors and hearing the same basic need. Civilization is upon us; the need for the SAINT units is declining while our local police force needs bolstering. A new era is dawning.”
Bishop abruptly stood and began pacing, his mind racing to digest everything his superior had just stated. Nick braced for an outburst of anger, anticipating his comrade to protest with vigor. Shouting. Foul language. Stubborn pride. It never materialized.
Instead, the Texan returned to his seat with a calm expression of contemplation. With a sly grin, Bishop responded, “I suppose the next thing you’ll tell me is that I need to learn about search warrants and bone up on the reams of case law from the old days? Are you asking me to memorize the Miranda Rights? Do I need to buy some handcuffs? I not a cop, Nick. I suppose I can understand the need, but I’m not the right guy for something like this.”
Nick, stunned by the solid reaction, sat in silence for a moment, the now-forgotten cigar dangling between his fingers.
“What about Mexico?” Bishop continued with an even tone, “I’m just curious about the council’s thinking on the subject. Is the Alliance going to send these new SWAT teams into a situation like that?”
“No,” Nick answered, finally coming out of his trace. “That category of problem will become the responsibility of a Special Forces group we’re assembling at Fort Hood. Diana wants any foreign involvement to be part of the military’s responsibility.”
Bishop shrugged, “I’m a buggy whip. Me and the teams, we’re all buggy whips. We’re outdated. There’s no place for us anymore … no need. That’s what you’re saying – right?”
Nick understood the analogy. “No, Bishop, that’s not what I’m saying. This is a reorganization, not an elimination or any sort of punishment. We’re making progress, and we need to adjust our methods and manpower to keep up with the times. This is our new political reality. The original Alliance of West Texas isn’t just a group of small towns anymore. Houston and Dallas are part of the mix. Cities like Austin, El Paso, and San Antonio need rule of law to a far greater degree than we’re providing. The mayors and governors of those areas are clamoring for a judicial system and law enforcement beyond what currently exists. Diana has to deliver.”
For a long, uncomfortable pause, Bishop just glared at Nick with cold, hard eyes. For the first time since dropping his bomb, Nick began to worry that perhaps he had misjudged Bishop’s mindset. The head of Alliance Security knew the Texan didn’t like change, understood his friend was a creature of habit and operated within the repeatable discipline of daily routines.
Still, Nick thought his offer to come in from the field and teach a new generation of young men dedicated to making the world a better place would be something of an honor. He said as much. “I’m not offering you this post as an end of career reward. You’re not being put out to pasture. This is a critical initiative for the Alliance and the people of Texas. Maintaining law and order is going to become the greatest challenge of the recovery. We have businessmen wanting to drill new oil wells, restart manufacturing, and entrepreneurs screaming to expand new industries. The political pressure on Diana and the council is tremendous, and if she doesn’t listen to the people, then our government is worthless. Two years ago, our job was to bring towns and cities into the fold, to knock tin pan dictators and local strongmen on their asses, and to keep the fledgling Alliance safe from external threats. Now, that is all changing. The SAINT program worked well … it was what we needed … but now we face a different, more civilized set of issues. If we don’t address this evolving need, the recovery will stall … or fail.”
“I respectively disagree,” Bishop responded with a matter of fact tone. “Part of the reason why the recovery has progressed this far is because the government has gotten the hell out of everyone’s way. There are no permits or endless regulations. No one misses revenue agents, tax codes only a lawyer could understand, or layers of bureaucratic bullshit hindering every move. Has everyone forgotten about the collapse? Didn’t the hell we endured count
for anything? Didn’t we learn any lessons from why society failed the last time?”
Spreading his hands wide in frustration, Nick countered, “We both know there were a lot of reasons why society deteriorated, and I know you’re not so egotistical as to believe for one second that you, or I, understand half of them. Men like us … we don’t get to make the policies or laws, we enforce them and protect the people who are brilliant enough to steer us in the right direction. It’s been that way since the days of Jefferson and Hamilton.”
“I know people,” Bishop replied, slicing the air with a dismissive wave. “People crave freedom, independence, and their God-given liberties. I know you and Terri both think I have too much of a libertarian slant on things, but I’ve met hundreds of survivors who finally feel like they are in control of their own destinies. Going back to the old ways is a mistake as far as I’m concerned. Yes, we need rule of law, but a limited, minimalist government is what a lot of folks appreciate about the new Texas.”
“That’s not what the polls say, my friend.”
“Sometimes great leaders must go against popular opinion and do what is right,” Bishop countered.
Nick sighed, knowing the debate was going nowhere. While he was pleased that Bishop seemed to have his famous temper in check, he also knew that there was no way they would resolve the issue tonight. “Why don’t we change the subject? You can take a few days and think all this over, and give me your answer later.”
It was Bishop’s turn to spring a surprise, “There’s no need. I’m already sure. Thank you, sir, but I decline. I’ll be in your office first thing tomorrow to hand in my letter of resignation. It’s been an honor serving with you.”
With that, the Texan turned toward the door, intent upon leaving. “Bishop, wait … please,” Nick pleaded.
Again, Bishop surprised his friend. “It’s all cool, Nick. I knew when we formed the SAINT teams that it was a temporary solution. I’ve understood that what everyone calls, ‘civilization’ was on the way back in. That became clear when I had to get a new driver’s license. I’m not mad, or hurt, or pouting. I just need to find a place in this new reality.”
“I thought I was offering you a great place?” Nick replied.
Like his friend a moment before, Bishop knew there was no possibility that the two men were going to agree. “Let’s not ruin what has been a great evening. We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, okay?”
Shrugging, Nick reluctantly agreed. “You’re right. We could debate all this for hours, and it wouldn’t do any good. Just promise me you’ll talk all this over with your better half before you turn in your resignation.”
Nodding, Bishop smiled politely. “You got it.”
Both men came into the kitchen to find the girls sitting at the table, deep in conversation. Both women knew instantly that something was very wrong.
“We need to head home here in a bit,” Bishop announced. “All that great food and my advanced years are making me tired.”
Fifteen minutes later, after a few attempts at uncomfortable conversation, Terri signaled Diana that perhaps they should call it a night. Bishop’s neutral expression confirmed that something was clearly off. “Thank you for dinner this evening, ma’am,” Bishop offered. Two seconds after that, he was out the front door.
Diana and Nick exchanged questioning looks, both saying, “What the hell just happened,” at the same time.
Nick’s face flushed with frustration, “That didn’t go so well. I offered Bishop that new job, and he took it badly. Then, like an idiot, I let the discussion go off on politics, and that made things worse. I think he is really, really pissed at me about now.”
Shaking her head as if Nick should know better, Diana said, “Tomorrow, I’ll stop by their place and mend fences. You, sir, are not always the most eloquent person in the room. Maybe he just took what you said the wrong way.”
Bishop made for the house at a very brisk pace. Terri, struggling to keep up, tried to make small talk. Her husband was polite but guarded.
The couple covered the distance quickly. After making sure the sitter was home safe, Terri found her husband at the kitchen table with pen and paper. “What’s wrong, Bishop?” she asked softly.
“I’m a buggy whip,” he mumbled, scratching a line of ink on the white sheet. “Nick is rearranging things and phasing out the SAINT teams. I need to find a new job.”
“Diana said he was going to offer you a promotion. I take it you didn’t care for the job description?” she said, pulling out a chair beside him.
“It’s not so much that,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “It’s the justification for the whole thing that has my panties in a wad. Nick and Diana are putting politics and her reelection first, above everything else, and I don’t like it one bit.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”
“No. Nick made it pretty clear to me … basically saying that I should accept the new reality of the Alliance. He said the SAINT teams, and what they stand for, are no longer necessary or acceptable.”
“And?” she asked, tilting her head to draw him out.
“And I never thought I would hear words like that coming out of a man like Nick. He, of all people, should know they are making a huge strategic mistake. The recovery isn’t as far along as they would like to believe. Worse yet, it feels like they are abandoning the values and concepts that got us this far and are now catering to the elite, wealthy people from the major cities back east. I guess a man and his gun aren’t going to have a place in this new world order.”
“Bishop! Stop this. Why are you taking such a hardline stance?”
Turning to her, he seemed more hurt than angry. “Because I love the Alliance and what it has become,” he said in a whisper. “I know I can’t control this. I’m just one man. Worse yet, it wouldn’t be right for me to take a job that I didn’t believe in. It wouldn’t be fair to accept a paycheck when I would only be going through the motions. I need to find a new job.”
Terri sighed, nodding her head in understanding. She realized Bishop had been out of sync with the recovery for a long time.
Her hope had been that he would adjust. He was the one always preaching and teaching about being adaptive, about utilizing what the world threw at you to overcome any obstacle.
Watching him continue to write out his resignation letter, she remained in quiet contemplation. Now wasn’t a good time to broach the subject of Diana’s offer to be her campaign manager. That could wait. Maybe he’ll change his mind by the morning, she prayed. Sometimes a good night’s sleep makes all the difference in the world.
Chapter 3
Bishop woke early, his mind still reeling from the previous evening’s conversation. Glancing at his watch, the Texan frowned. It was 5:30 AM, way too early to wake Terri.
Sneaking out of bed, he was careful to be quiet while preparing for the day. No need to disturb her, he thought, stalking around the bathroom. She needs her rest.
It occurred to Bishop that his skills still had some value. You can penetrate an outlaw’s lair without being detected, he mused. Getting dressed without disturbing your wife isn’t a bad thing.
He checked on Hunter, finding his son’s cherubic face resting in peaceful oblivion. Next came breakfast, two apples and a cup of Pete’s mystery coffee. Where is he getting this stuff? The Texan pondered, sipping his brew. Just another of the universe’s mysteries that may never be resolved.
While he recharged his caffeine supply, Bishop recounted the conversation from the previous night. Since Nick’s announcement, little else had been on his mind.
Staring down at the letter still resting on the kitchen table, Bishop whispered, “You need to stop whining and find work. You’ve got a wife and kid to provide for. They come first.”
You need to think. Where do you do your best contemplation? he asked himself. At that early hour, inspiration struck. The ranch! The mountains! It was time for a hunting trip. He needed to check on the camper any
way. Hell, if things went badly, the family and he might have to move back into their motorhome.
Grabbing a clean sheet of paper, he quickly scribbled a note for Terri. “Going to check on the homestead. Might head up into the mountains for a quick hunt. See you this afternoon. Love, Bishop.”
Now motivated, Bishop was a whirlwind of silent activity. In minutes, he packed a rifle, ammunition, and the other kit necessary for a trek to the high country. Most of his gear was already prepared for a hasty departure, and for a moment, the Texan felt the pangs of uncertainty. “You’ve kept this equipment ready for an emergency SAINT mission for years. Now, that’s all coming to an end. What are you going to do? Can you reinvent yourself?”
Shaking off the foreboding thoughts, Bishop loaded the truck and was out the door just as the sun began to peek over the horizon.
There wasn’t much traffic in Alpha at that hour, a fact that the Texan appreciated. Becoming the capital had transformed the once-cozy town. Not only had the berg experienced an amazing growth spurt, but it was also a prime destination for those having business with the Alliance. The locals tolerated the tourists for the economic benefits, but secretly cursed the congestion they often caused.