Avenging Home

by Angery American

  “Well, I hope we weren’t interrupting anything important this morning,” I said.

  Baker nodded at Scott. “Just his beauty sleep.”

  Sarge snorted. “And he needs it from the look of that pumpkin on his shoulders.”

  “Hey!” Scott said. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you if don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all?”

  Sarge smiled. “Where do you think I got my sparkling personality from?”

  Thad laughed. “You was raised by a rabid dog?”

  Sarge pointed at Thad and shouted. “I’ll have you know the test for rabies came back negative!” He winked and added. “Now, where were we?”

  I told Baker and Scott to follow me and took them around back to the transformer. Leaning against it, I said, “This is the transformer for the plant’s controls. I figured this would be the best place. But if you guys find a better way, by all means, go for it.”

  Scott looked the piece of equipment over and said, “It probably will be, but we’ll take a look around just to make sure.”

  “Then we’ll unhook the trailer and leave it here,” I said.

  “How are you going to keep someone from stealing it?” Thad asked.

  “Once we start work, we’ll be staying here with a squad to provide security. But for now, we may just drag it back to town at night,” Baker said.

  “Whatever blows yer skirt up,” Sarge replied and smiled at Baker. Her only reply was to roll her eyes and shake her head.

  “Alright then. We’ll leave you two with it,” I said.

  Sarge looked around and asked, “Where’s that snot-nosed student of yours?”

  “He’s back at the armory finishing up a little job. We didn’t need him today,” Scott said.

  “You don’t need him unless you need a doorstop,” Sarge snorted.

  “Don’t be so hard on him. He’s a good kid. Smart too,” Baker said.

  “Glad he’s your problem,” Sarge said. “You guys ready to go?”

  Thad nodded and headed for the tractor while we walked over to the truck and disconnected the trailer. Fortunately, the jack on the tongue of the trailer was stout and had handled the load with no issues. When Thad drove around to join us, Baker saw the legs hanging out of the bucket and nearly shouted. “What the hell is that?”

  Sarge looked over and flatly replied, “Oh, that. That’s just roadkill.”

  She looked at me for more, but I waved her off. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him eat it.”

  The look on her face made me laugh. It almost looked as though she thought the old man capable of it. We said goodbye and left. The field Thad and Cecil were working wasn’t far from here, and we needed to get him over there. As we headed up nineteen, Sarge pointed at a couple of guys on the side of the road at a small tote-the-note car lot. They were messing around under the hood of an old station wagon of some kind. They stopped their work and looked up as we passed.

  “Probably trying to get it to run,” Sarge said.

  “Or scavenging parts,” I replied.

  As if to reaffirm the fact there were still machines in operation, a motorcycle passed us heading back towards Umatilla. Neither of the two riders wore helmets, and the passenger was trying to manage a large bundle of some sort. It looked like pictures and video I’d seen from places like India and Pakistan where the motorbike was the primary form of transportation for many. And people would load them with all sorts of junk that would cause a state trooper an immediate erection.

  At the field, Cecil was already at work. He had a plow connected to his tractor and was out cutting rows. Another plow sat waiting for Thad’s tractor. Seeing us pull in, he took off his hat and waved. We pulled over to the plow and waited for him. When he completed the pass he was on, he came over and shut the machine down.

  Looking at the bucket of Thad’s tractor, he cocked his head to the side and asked, “What’s his story?”

  Sarge glanced over and said, “His story is that his story is over. Found him on the road. Someone beat the hell out of him.”

  Cecil walked over and looked in. Letting out a whistle, he said, “They damn sure did.” Then he looked at Sarge. “What are you going to do with him?”

  Sarge shrugged. “Bury his ass somewhere.”

  Cecil looked out over the field. “I’m sure we got a spot out here that’ll work.”

  I was struck by the casualness of the conversation. Here was a dead man that we’d found on the road and tossed into the bucket of a tractor. We then drove all over the country with the corpse before ending up here where Cecil just took it in with no more surprise than if it were a dead cat. Contrasted against how things worked in the Before, it was stark.

  There would have been a road closure with highly skilled people coming out to examine the body and looking for evidence of the crime. The body would have been inspected by the medical examiner, who would determine the cause of death. The body would then be kept in a cooler until the family was notified and arrangements were made. Then someone in a big Cadillac would show up to take the body, covered in a nice velvet blanket, to another building. And there it would be cleaned, dressed and placed in a box.

  Elsewhere, someone would lay a slab of granite on a machine and punch in the appropriate words, and the machine would forever etch into the stone the words that would sit for all eternity over the grave of this man. Family and friends would gather as a service was held before the box with the body in it. And then it would finally be lowered on small winches into a hole dug by a machine. The exposed dirt would be covered with cheap green indoor/outdoor carpet so as not to upset anyone with the reality of the situation. Once the bereaved had departed the burial site, the machine would return to fill in the hole.

  There were so many moving parts. So many people and machines involved. Now, one tractor and a couple of men. Nothing more. And hardly any notice, and certainly no surprise. Not for those that found him or those that would intern him. But maybe this was the better way. It was certainly closer to the natural way. But then we couldn’t really use the natural way of just leaving one where they fell until nature took its course. As much for health reasons as for the fact that no one wanted to see a body in public any more now than before. Though I would imagine that there were millions lying where they fell. Or rather their bones. But the killing and dying was by no measure over.

  “You get anywhere on your help?” I asked. Cecil had an expression that reminded me of my grandfather. His chin would drop to the chest and folds of skin would show around it, and he’d smirk as if to say, what do you think. He did it now, but said nothing. “So we’re going to have to find you some bodies then?”

  Cecil smiled and pointed at the bucket. “Not more of this.”

  Sarge snorted. “Hell, Cecil. If you want live ones, we’ll get you live ones!”

  “They would be more productive,” Cecil replied.

  “Shit Cecil. Worms gotta eat too!” Sarge shouted and slapped the hood of the truck. “You need anything before we leave?”

  “I just need some able-bodied people what aren’t afraid of hard work.”

  I walked around to the driver’s side of the truck and said, “They can get over their fear.”

  Cecil grinned. “Make ‘em too tired to be scared.”

  As Sarge climbed in beside me, he added, “Pain is just fear leaving the body! You know, like when that bear scared the crap out of you this morning.”

  “Yeah. Well, me one. Bear None.”

  Sarge laughed. “True. That thing is going to be good eatin’!”

  I drove up to the armory and parked. Looking back at Perez, he was still asleep. “Hey, Perez! We’re here.”

  He sat up groggily and looked bleary-eyed out the window. He started to cough, and I quickly jumped out of the tru
ck. Sarge also exited the truck with haste and looked back. “Damn it, Perez. You get me sick, and I’ll beat your ass!”

  Perez gave him a dismissive wave. “Yeah, yeah.” Smiling, he added, “Wouldn’t be hard right now.”

  Perez extracted himself from the truck and slung his weapon as he trudged towards the clinic. I followed Sarge into the armory to talk to Sheffield. We ran into Livingston first and told him we needed to talk. Livingston pointed us towards the conference room and went off to find the Captain. Sarge and I went in, and I dropped into a chair. Sarge, of course, went to the head of the table and took a seat.

  I was shaking my head. “You just can’t stop screwing with him, can you?”

  Sarge swiveled the chair back and forth. “It’s only right that the smartest man in the room be sitting here.”

  I was shaking my head when Sheffield and Livingston came into the room. “What’s up, guys?” Sheffield asked as he took a seat. I was surprised he didn’t say anything about the seating arrangement, considering the earlier pissing contest between these two.

  “We need to come up with a plan to hit those assholes at the Elk’s Camp. My guys did some recon out there, so we know where everything is. This is going to take a coordinated effort to get rid of these guys,” Sarge said.

  Sheffield was drumming his fingers on the table. “How many people do they have?”

  “Over a hundred.”

  “Holy shit,” Livingston said. Then he looked at Sheffield. “I don’t like those numbers.”

  “No doubt it’s going to be a hell of a fight, but we’ve got to do it. They shot up the market in Altoona and bombed the one here. They’ve hit us a couple of times. We have to take them out,” Sarge said.

  Sheffield nodded. “We do. But I don’t want to lose half my people doing it.”

  “Nor do I, Captain. I want to bring Mike and Ted up here and go over the lay of the land and come up with a plan. I’ve got some ideas, but we need to talk about it,” Sarge said.

  “We definitely need to discuss it,” Sheffield said.

  Perez made his way to the clinic and walked in. He found Doc and asked where Jamie was. Doc looked at him. “You still look like shit. Come in here and let me check you out.”

  “Fuck it, Doc. I’m fine. Believe it or not, I’m better than I was. I just want to check on Jamie.”

  Doc eyed him for a minute before giving up. He knew Perez wouldn’t cooperate. “Alright. But if you start to feel worse, let me know. Come on. She’s over here.”

  Doc led Perez over to a curtained treatment area. Jamie was sitting up in a bed and smiled when she saw Perez.

  “Hey, Poppie!” She said with a smile on her face.

  “Ola chica. How are you feeling?” Perez asked.

  Jamie shrugged and lifted the gown she wore to expose a bandage around her abdomen. “Not bad, considering. These docs here are pretty damn good.”

  “Good. I’d hate to have to shoot a bunch of doctors.”

  Jamie smiled. “You here to take me home?”

  “If you’re ready, I’m willing,” Perez replied and sniffed loudly.

  Jamie cocked her head to the side. “You look like hell. You alright?”

  Perez chuckled. “Thanks for noticing. I’m fine. Just been sick.”

  “So you want me to come home to take care of you, huh?” Jamie asked with a smile.

  Perez shrugged. “Somebody’s got to do it.”

  Doc cleared his throat. “You should stay here another day or two.”

  Jamie looked at him. “Why? They’re not doing anything to me. I can sit at home as good as I can sit here.”

  Perez looked at Doc. “Yeah. Besides, you’ll be there.”

  “Whatever. I’m ready to get the hell out of here anyway.”

  “Okay. We’ll get the guys up here and start working out a plan,” Sarge said.

  “Let’s move on to the farm. We need labor. Have you guys talked to anyone around here?” I asked.

  Livingston shook his head. “No. We were leaving that up to Cecil for the most part.”

  “Cecil said he wasn’t having any luck. We need people out in the fields if we want to grow any food over there,” I replied.

  “I guess we need to wander over to the park and see if we can get any volunteers,” Sarge said.

  Looking at Sheffield, I asked, “You got a bullhorn?”

  “Actually, we do,” Livingston replied, and left the room.

  “You going to go over and see if you can those people to work out in the sun breaking their backs for no pay?” Sheffield asked.

  I threw my hands up. “How do these people expect to eat? We’re going to grow this food for everyone. And if you don’t contribute, you won’t eat.”

  Sheffield drummed the table with his fingers again and smiled. “Good luck with that.”

  Livingston returned with the bullhorn and set it on the table. Sarge picked it up and hit the trigger, speaking into it. “Does it work?” The thing was loud and caused everyone to flinch. Sheffield gave him a look and shook his head.

  I picked up the bullhorn and walked out. Sarge followed me, muttering something about I gotta see this. I walked down to the park and up onto the stage of the clam shell. The park was crowded with people either offering trades or looking for them. Plus, there was the usual assortment of people just hanging out. I guess with no job and nothing to do, a lot of people just didn’t know what to do with themselves.

  Looking at the bullhorn, I said, “Here goes nothing.” and I pulled the speaker trigger.

  “Hey, folks. Can I get your attention for a minute?” I gave people a minute to wander closer, or as was the case with a number of them, at least turn their heads. “We’re starting to plant crops outside of town. We’ve got a big section of land tilled and plowed and we’re ready to start planting. But we need help. This food is for all of us, so all of us need to pitch in. If you would please step up over here, we can get transportation and the like organized.”

  I waited to see what sort of response I would get. I was met with silence as the crowd looked around at their fellows. They did move closer and start to mumble amongst themselves. After a minute, a man stepped up.

  “So what do we get out of it?” He asked.

  “You get food. How about not starving to death?” I replied.

  “Well, seems like this farm would happen with me or without me. If I didn’t work, I could just wait for someone else to do it and then still get my share, couldn’t I?”

  “What share? You wouldn’t have a share.” Keying the horn again, I said, “If you do not contribute to the farm, you will not be given food. There is no freeloading. You wanna eat, you work.”

  The man smiled. “That’s what I wanted to hear. I’m in.”

  And with that, several others came to the edge of the stage and said they wanted to work as well. There were still many out there that made no move to offer up their labor, and they began to congregate and talk amongst themselves. After a moment, one of the group stepped forward.

  “How can you expect us to spend every day working on this farm? We still gotta eat. It’ll be months before any of those crops are ready. How are we going to feed ourselves today?”

  Using the bullhorn again, I answered the man. “No one needs to be out there every day. Two or three days a week for a few hours will get it done if everyone pitches in. We’re not wanting to work anyone like a slave. But the simple fact is we need people in the fields; and if everyone just does a little, then we can get a lot done. We’ll provide transportation out and back and water kegs at the farm.”

  The statement was met with more nods and even more people came up and offered to help. There were still a few holdouts, but there always will be. Hell, if you were giving away sacks of money, some
one would complain they were too heavy.

  Sarge stepped up and crossed his arms. “That went way better than I thought it would.”

  I laughed. “No shit. I didn’t expect it to be this easy.”

  Keying the horn again, I said, “Anyone going to the farm needs to be at the armory at seven tomorrow morning. We’ll have trucks ready to take you, and get your names and info then.”

  As we walked off the stage, Sarge started to laugh. I looked at him and asked what he thought was so funny. He slapped his leg. “There’s going to a damn mob at the armory in the morning. Sheffield’s going to be pissed.”

  It made me laugh. “Yeah, he probably will be. Let’s go tell him so he can’t say we didn’t warn him.”

  We were mobbed with people when we came off the stage. Questions were hurled at us by a dozen or so people. I put my hands up. “We’ll try and answer your questions tomorrow. Just know that this is for all of us.”

  We pushed through the crowd and made our way back to the armory. I saw Livingston as we came through the gate, and called him over.

  “You’re going to have a crowd here in the morning about seven. We need to have trucks ready to take people to the farm. You also need to establish the security detail for them while they’re out there. I don’t think we need overnight security yet; but when crops start coming up, we’ll need it for sure.”

  Livingston looked over at the park. “Wow. I didn’t think you’d get any takers.”

  “Hunger will do that to a man,” Sarge said.

  Livingston smiled. “If they’re hungry, maybe they’ll work then.”

  “They’re going to have to,” I said.

  Livingston nodded. “I’ll get it put together. We’ll be ready.”

  We left and headed to the clinic to check on Jamie. We were intercepted by Shane with the PD. “Hey, Morgan. I got a guy over here that I need to talk to you about.”