by Joe Nobody
It had been Terri who had navigated the potential minefield, forcing every member of the ruling body to keep the long term needs of the Alliance at the forefront of their thoughts. “We’re falling into the same trap that plagued Washington for years and eventually led to the downfall. We already have lobbyists. Let’s learn from that lesson and not repeat the same mistakes,” the pregnant woman had demanded.
Diana reached into her briefcase, producing a single, typewritten page. “We have complied a list of items, all having some value with our ongoing projects. Most of the list involves initiatives to increase our output of food and electricity. If you have access to these items, we hope to produce an even larger overage. That extra food could save thousands of lives. Provide us some of the tools, and we’ll deliver the goods.”
The four men from Washington huddled over the single copy provided. While they read, Diana watched their faces carefully, naturally looking for reactions to the document. She was entertained by a wide-ranging display of emotion, most of it negative.
The undersecretary dismissed the list with a wave of his hand. “Every community in the country is desperate for these same items, madam. If we had access to what you’re asking for, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
Mayor Brown ignored the initial rejection, “Surely the government of the United States can come up with some of those items.”
General Owens, again acting as the voice of reason, responded. Scanning the paper, he began reading a few of the entries out loud. “Valves, electrical wire, various chemical compounds… I’m afraid my colleague is right, Miss Brown, those assets are in high demand and short supply.”
“And the rest of the list, sir? Are you telling me there is no fertilizer available? What about medical personnel and supplies – did all of the doctors and dentists die in the collapse? You are asking my people to sacrifice, and yet you appear to be unwilling to do so yourselves.”
The undersecretary wasn’t having any of it. “You are nothing more than greedy capitalists trying to extort from those who desperately need what resources are available. Even if we did have these items on hand, every single asset is being utilized to help the rest of the country.”
Diana grunted, the smirk on her face condescending. “You mean like the 300 plus tons of supplies we just impounded… supplies that were being transported so that the army could move against us… come in and take whatever people like you believed we could do without.”
There was no convincing the man from Interior. His expression was dismissive, throwing Diana a look as if to say, “You wouldn’t understand.”
General Owens, however, was the ultimate authority at the table. He smiled at the mayor of Alpha’s point, conceding, “There may be some items on this list we can produce, if the value of exchange is fair. However, the first step is the return of the supply convoy your people seized.”
Diana wondered if the two most verbal of her visitors were intentionally playing some sort of good-cop, bad-cop game that had been agreed upon before their visit. Dismissing that train of thought, she managed a smile at the general and replied, “Again, we are willing to sit and negotiate a mutually beneficial agreement, but I don’t have the sole authority to commit to any bargain. I’ll assemble our council tomorrow if you gentlemen would like to stay and see this through. More to your point, General, we would be willing to return the confiscated supplies once an agreement has been reached.”
Owens was clearly disappointed in the response. “I will contact Washington and report on today’s meeting. I was hoping additional escalations could be avoided, but now I’m not so sure. We’ll be back in touch, one way or the other.”
The visiting delegation from Washington left to return to Fort Hood, their faces solemn.
After the Humvee was out of sight, Diana turned to Nick, “What do you make of that?”
The big man rubbed his chin, “At least they are willing to talk. I think that’s a positive sign.”
“It wasn’t a good start, that’s for sure.”
“It’s progress,” Nick observed. “What’s the phrase the politicians used? Cautiously optimistic? That’s what I am… cautiously optimistic.”
Chapter 3
West Texas
June 14, 2016
Terri, true to her word, took the entire week off. The effort was forwarded in no small part by Bishop’s feigned forgetfulness, sneaking his wife’s laptop out of her overnight bag before leaving Alpha. The recovery period was necessary for the new mom, partly because she needed a break, but mostly because the news that Washington wanted to work something out gave her a little time. At minimum, there would be talk before war.
As word got around, all of the citizens of the Alliance exhaled, the burden of war lifted from their shoulders, at least for a while. Bishop wasn’t so sure, but kept quiet, not wanting to spoil the bonus to what had already been their best time together.
The couple spent those heady days getting to know the newest member of their family, relaxing in the gardens and shopping in the market.
On the second day of their hiatus, the doctor stopped in to check on mother and child. After a quick examination of both, he commented, “Time to complete an official birth certificate, that is, as official as any paperwork is these days. Have you two decided what are you going to name the baby?”
It wasn’t a new topic, but a subject both mom and dad had discussed numerous times before the infant made his debut. They had reached an agreement – if the baby were a girl, Terri would choose the name. Dad would choose if the child were a boy.
Despite that understanding, neither parent wanted to risk offending the other. Terri had helped Bishop narrow down the choices – two names she would willingly embrace.
“Hunter,” replied Bishop, looking at his wife to judge her reaction. “I’ve always liked that name.”
The doctor, wise to the intricacies of domestic relationships, didn’t write it down until Terri had nodded her acceptance. Hunter it was.
The child didn’t seem to care what he was called, as long as Terri provided timely meals.
“He’s just like his father,” she noted, cradling little Hunter while he nursed for the fourth time that day. “Fascinated with boobs.”
“That’s my boy.”
On the third day, Terri announced she was suffering from cabin fever. “Walking the hotel halls allows me to stretch my legs a bit, but I need fresh air and a real walk. I’ll be a little slow, but I’m going to get mean if I don’t get out of this building.”
Bishop wasn’t sure Terri’s strolling outside was such a good idea, having witnessed the amount of blood and pain involved in childbirth and mindful of the natural twists and turns to the paths in The Manor’s gardens. Terri, as usual, prevailed. Betty served as babysitter while Bishop stayed close to his mate, still unsure of his wife’s equilibrium.
The next day, she declared “retail therapy” was in order.
“Okay, I’ll stay here with Hunter.”
“Why?” the new mother had inquired.
Bishop was nervous about the step. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be taking him outside?”
“He’s got to go out eventually. He seems healthy enough. Go find a stroller if you don’t want to carry him.”
Shaking his head, Bishop replied, “He doesn’t weigh anything. That’s not my point. I worry about… about germs and such. You know, it is not like we can just head down to the corner drugstore if he gets sick these days.”
Terri took her husband’s hand and squeezed lovingly. “He’ll be fine, Bishop. We’ll keep the sun off of him, and he’ll love it.”
And so it was decided. The trio ventured forth on their first excursion as a family.
Hunter was an immediate celebrity. When the family exited the front doors of The Manor, a wave of silence swept the market, all heads pivoting to see what the fuss was about. Moments later, a single soul started clapping, and the applause spread up and down the busy street. Bishop turned to his wife
and whispered, “I know it’s been a while since they’ve seen me, but this is a little over the top.”
Terri, despite having recently given birth, proved she could still punch with considerable force, her husband’s arm receiving the impact.
Then there was what Bishop later coined, “The press of flesh.” People, anxious to see the baby, began approaching from every direction, eventually forming a tight ring around the proud parents. Terri lost count of the hugs, cheek kisses and well wishes she received. Bishop must have shaken at least 50 hands. Hunter proved himself a charmer, opening his blue eyes and simply being cute.
Eventually, the bedlam subsided, and the couple started their tour of the market. They hadn’t progressed more than 20 steps when Betty’s scorn rang out above the hum of activity. “What are you two doing?”
Terri turned, smiling at her friend. “We decided to get out and about for a bit. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, I thought you were going shopping without looking at your gifts first.”
“Gifts?” Terri asked, throwing Bishop a questioning look.
Betty nodded, “People have been delivering baby gifts for two days. I’ve got a lobby full of toys and clothes on one side. A stroller, car seat and playpen line the other side with barely room to navigate to the front desk. Sheriff Watts even dropped off two cases of disposable diapers.”
Bishop was embarrassed by it all, every corner of The Manor’s common room stacked with boxes, some even adorned with wrapping paper, bows, and ribbons.
“Oh my,” Terri’s reacted. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Well, you can leave it here for a while, but I’m going to need my lobby back eventually.”
Bishop glanced down at Hunter, “You’re only three days old, and already you have accumulated more stuff than I have. Way to go, kid.”
After scanning the collection, the couple returned to the market, meandering here and there – simply enjoying the day. At one point, Terri engaged in a political conversation with a group of ladies selling handmade cloth, the product of a local loom. Bishop, bored with the topic, excused himself and decided Hunter was old enough to visit his first saloon.
Pete, as usual, was behind the bar. The smile that broke out across his face when Bishop and his son entered was brighter than the sunlight that flooded through the open door.
“Two beers,” Bishop teased.
“Coming right up,” Pete responded, never missing a beat.
“Actually, I’d love a cup of coffee if you have any. I think my friend here is fine.”
There were few patrons at the early hour, most taking advantage of Pete’s secret coffee stash. All of them abandoned their steaming mugs, moving to catch a view of the bundle Bishop protected in his arms.
After pouring Bishop’s order, Pete demanded to hold the community’s newest citizen. “After all, Terri said I was going to be the lad’s godfather. We should get acquainted.”
“Support his head,” Bishop joked, finally handing Hunter over.
Pete grunted at the instructions. “I’ve held more infants than I can remember. Support his head, indeed.”
The mayor of Meraton abandoned his duties behind the bar, instead choosing to give his new godson a tour of the facilities. Bishop sipped his joe as Hunter made the circuit; each neon sign, window and table a point of interest and deserving a softly voiced explanation from the proprietor.
Pete was in a back corner when Terri came hustling inside. “Where’s our son?” she inquired immediately.
“I don’t know. I thought you had him?” Bishop teased, trying desperately to keep a straight face.
The effort failed, but Terri played along, responding in her best western twang. “I thought I’d find you here… you… you no good bum. Here I trust you with our firstborn child, and what do you do the first chance you get? You sneak off to a saloon. You go out drinking! Mr. Mayor, I believe we may have a case of ‘contributing to the delinquency of an incredibly tiny minor.’”
Bishop’s snort quickly turned into a full blown chuckle, his wife matching the laughter. Pete appeared, cooing at Hunter who seemed no worse the wear from his adventure.
“Hi, Mom,” Pete greeted, happy to see Terri up and about.
Terri held out her arms, but Pete hesitated to return the swaddled bundle. “Now don’t be in an all fired hurry there, missy. I’m bonding with the boy. Letting him know he’s got friends in high places.”
On a roll, Terri couldn’t resist. “He already knows that, Pete. Betty has been smothering him with kisses for days.”
Bishop, delighted not to be the butt of the joke for once, snorted out a mouthful of coffee and then tried to laugh and choke at the same time.
Good natured as always, Pete tried to pretend insult, but just couldn’t pull it off.
The mayor cradled the babe in the crook of his arm, continuing the tour of the establishment until Hunter began to fuss. “He’s probably hungry… again,” Terri said, checking the diaper first. Finding no need for a change, Terri glanced around until she spied a dark corner. Retrieving an extra receiving blanket from the bag for modesty, she announced, “I’ll be back in a minute, boys. I’m going to feed this bottomless pit.”
The next day brought the arrival of Uncle Nick and Aunt Diana, as they introduced themselves. After Bishop’s naming of Pete as the godfather, Terri had asked Diana if she would fill the corresponding maternal role. “I’d be honored,” Diana replied, “as long as I get all the snuggling I can handle.”
And so the couple spent their weeklong retreat showing off their new addition to countless visiting dignitaries and friends. Visitors came from all over the Alliance, including Mr. Beltran, DA Gibson and a host of others. Bishop was convinced the kid was Senate bound, based purely on his early political connections.
“I’m more exhausted than before our little every-four-hours alarm clock arrived,” Bishop noted as he packed up as many of the gifts as would fit in the truck.
“I know what you mean. I anticipated that having a baby would leave me a smidge tired. Hunter is easy compared to the demands of his social calendar. I look forward to a little private time,” agreed Terri.
“I can’t wait to get back to that punishment Nick calls a training class. The good Lord knows I need the rest,” Bishop snickered as he piled a playpen on top of the mounting kiddie booty.
The drive back to Alpha was the most quiet the new parents had enjoyed since the birth. Even Hunter appeared to agree, the steady lull of the truck’s movement encouraging his lids to fall before Meraton faded behind them.
Alpha proved only slightly more reserved than Meraton, the couple finding more gifts stacked inside their living room after entering the house. “I wish everyone hadn’t spent their hard earned money on us,” observed Terri. “We already had everything we really needed.”
“They wanted to give something back, Terri.”
“I know, I know… but still. You are going to have to enlarge the west wing of the ranch to accommodate all these goodies, my love. How are you with architectural drawings?”
“At least we know the mayor of Meraton personally. Should help us get a building permit without too much hassle,” Bishop joked. “Seriously, Terri. All that work you have been doing with the Alliance is resurrecting the region’s hope of a somewhat normal existence. I’ll figure out something for little Hunter’s mounting pile of stuff; you just keep rebuilding a future in West Texas for our son.”
Alpha, Texas
June 18, 2016
The weight room at the university hadn’t been looted, per say. Someone, no doubt starving, had ransacked the extensive facility probably looking for protein bars, but the equipment had been left intact. Once the content of the lockers and gym bags had been cleaned up, a few of the men had taken to visiting what had quickly become known as “Club Apocalypse.”
Bishop was having a good day at the club.
His pre-collapse job in corporate security had demanded a high level of
conditioning. Guarding oil company executives and equipment in some of the world’s most dangerous places wasn’t a career for the weak or slow. Because of this, he was well aware of what his body was capable of, as well as its limits. Before the terrorist attacks, he had considered himself the equal of any professional athlete as far as being fit. It was just part of his job… a part he enjoyed immensely.
Then everything went to hell, a general lack of caloric intake prohibiting exercise. Adjusting the weight-pin on a machine, Bishop recalled those lean days. After society fell, it was less than two months before he noticed how loosely his clothes were hanging from his frame. It wasn’t long after that before his wardrobe became downright baggy. For both Terri and him, body fat became a thing of the past.
It wasn’t just the volume of food available. For months, a well-balanced diet wasn’t part of the equation. Filling your stomach didn’t necessarily translate into eating healthy. Fresh fruits and green vegetables were often in short supply. Lifting weights for pleasure or training was absurd when there were barely enough calories for a body to survive. Energy was better invested in hunting and gathering more grub.
In the last few months, all of that had been reversed. Not only was Bishop eating well, but his convalescence had resulted in less physical activity. Hearty meals, combined with the fact that people weren’t shooting at him every day, resulted in a gradual weight gain and lack of tone. Time to exercise his body.
And today was a good day.
Pushing hard against the weight-bar for the final set, he was happy with his progress. For some of the routines, he was back to pre-collapse performance. For a few of the endurance exercises, he had set new personal bests. Membership in Club Apocalypse was proving beneficial.
The sound of the doorknob interrupted Bishop’s mental victory lap. Looking up, he nodded as Deke entered the room.
“I thought I might find you here, Slick,” he greeted.
“What’s up, operator?”
“How’s the shoulder?”