by Hunt, Jack
“Hell no! That’s not happening!” Joe bellowed. “You’re not taking my gun.”
The crowd erupted in an uproar and again he had to call the meeting to order. Cathy smashed the gavel as hard as she could while he raised his voice, hands outstretched. “Please. People. Give me a moment to explain.” He took a deep breath, then a sip of his water before continuing. “We can’t have just anyone charging around with guns. Under ordinary circumstances, sure. Some laws govern such things but under the conditions we are facing, the last thing we need is people getting trigger happy.”
Ted, a local hunter who had been of great service to them over the past few weeks, taking out groups to bring in meat, stood up. “I can appreciate what you’re saying but you need to understand you are trying to go against the Second Amendment. I’m sure the militia would have something to say about that.”
“It was the militia who suggested it,” a voice said from the back of the room. The crowd parted and sitting with his legs crossed was Lieutenant Elijah Hale. Dan hadn’t seen him enter. How long had he been there, observing, enjoying the show? He rose and walked down to the front. “We are here to protect you and we believe in every citizen having the means to protect themselves, however, two of our guys were shot yesterday by locals.” He eyed them all. “That’s right. Those weren’t outsiders.”
That was the first Dan had heard about it.
“I wonder why,” Ted said. “Could it have anything to do with trying to control us?”
“What you see as control, we see as a form of protection.” Elijah glanced at Dan before looking at the rest of the crowd. “Now, the sheriff here is faced with the uphill climb of providing service to you all but many of you don’t even reside in Eureka. You live outside, in the smaller communities. That might have worked a month ago, it doesn’t now. We can’t help you there. We can’t protect you there.”
“You did before.”
“Yes!” Dan said, supporting Elijah. “And they did a damn fine job of it from what I hear but that was before many officers left their positions to take their families to the FEMA camps.”
“Ah whatever, we’ll protect our own.”
Elijah nodded. “Sure. Maybe you will. But if you can’t, then what? Are you going to come into town and bellyache at the next meeting? Throw fists? Blame the sheriff here for your inability to follow a few simple requests? Because people, that’s all this is. A month, two months from now, you might be able to go back to your homes but in the interim, it’s easier for our group and the remaining few officers to distribute supplies, and protect you if you are all within a small vicinity instead of spread throughout the county.”
“And if we refuse?” Ted asked.
“Then you refuse.” Elijah shrugged. “But don’t expect handouts. There is a cost to delivering these supplies, and one way or another, you all will pay.”
And with that said he walked back through them all without fear.
Was that a threat? It could have been taken as one.
Dan was quick to clarify, hoping his words didn’t rile them up further. “Thank you, lieutenant. What he is trying to say is that we have your best interests in mind. Look around you. Over the past two weeks, have you not been fed? Have you not received clean water? Meat, fish? Aren’t you still alive? Now no one is going to force you to hand over your guns or move into town if you wish to remain outside, but if you wish to continue getting supplies, that is our request as it makes things easier. That’s all.”
“And how is it easier having our guns in your hands?” Hank said. Oh no, Dan thought. If there was anyone who could stir the pot, it was him. “Or is this just a way of controlling the masses?”
“I meant safer.”
“Did you?” Hank retorted with a chuckle.
Dan was at a loss for words. It hadn’t been his idea. Captain Evans had suggested it. They said it would offer his men additional ammo, and reduce their risk of being shot. “Well…”
“I’ll address that, sheriff,” the lieutenant said, rising again from his seat. Dan breathed a sigh of relief and took a few steps back. “Hank Strickland, right?” Elijah asked.
“That’s right.”
His gaze bounced from him to Martha across the room. One of the questions they’d asked after bringing in supplies was who might be a problem. They wanted to know who the threats were if any would arise. Dan had told them. If anyone was liable to cause a problem it would come from the Rikers and the Stricklands. He’d gone on to provide some backstory of their history then pointed them out in their last meeting.
“Tell me, Mr. Strickland,” Elijah said, walking out into the midst of the room, hands clasped behind his back. He showed little fear, unlike those in the community who knew Hank’s reputation. “Do you or any of your kin serve the community?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know — serve at the checkpoints, hunt, do something which adds to this community.”
There was a moment of hesitation. “I loaned my ATVs. So yeah, you could say I have done my part.”
“That’s very generous of you. But that’s not what I’m asking. Do you serve this community in a way that requires you to have firearms and ammunition?”
“It’s my right as a Californian. And from what I hear, militia upholds those rights.”
“You are correct. However, like food, ammunition is limited. We don’t have an arsenal to draw upon. So where do you think is the next logical place we would get ammunition to protect you and this community? Chew it over. Take your time.”
He was condescending but Dan liked it.
Hank smiled then quickly turned the tables on him. “I’ll answer that when you answer this. What war are you fighting that requires ammunition, lieutenant?”
“Rounds are required to protect this town at the checkpoints if and when threats arise, and trust me, Mr. Strickland, threats are arising.”
“Well, you come see me when you are out of ammo, until then I think I will keep my hands on what I have. I’m sure I speak for the rest of us.”
Elijah smiled.
A few jeers and nods from others in the room caught Dan’s eye. Prying weapons or ammunition out of the hands of people in this county would be a hard task. They didn’t trust each other at the best of times. Elijah glanced at his watch as if he was expecting someone. Dan stepped forward and over the next ten minutes continued to address issues, answer questions and elevate the locals’ fears. As he was doing that, the door opened and one of the militia stumbled in, held up by none other than Captain Benjamin Evans. His arm was looped around him. Two more militia guys followed, rifles at the ready. “Where the hell is the doctor? We went to the hospital and they said she was here?”
A hand shot up among the people. “Over here.”
“I need this man looked at.”
Doctor Esther Tanning elbowed her way through the crowd, waving to a few others who helped pick the man up and carry him out. Out of breath, Captain Evans took a seat, his hands covered in blood. He was sweating and out of breath.
Dan stepped off the small stage and made his way over. “Captain, what happened?”
He took a second to catch his breath. Evans wiped his bloody hands on his fatigues. He hadn’t spoken to him in about a week. “My men were going door to door, alerting everyone to the new rules of moving into town if they wanted to continue to get supplies and protection. A group of raiders managed to kill some of those posted at the south roadblock. The county is under attack.”
Dan looked up at Elijah, who stepped forward and placed a hand on Evans’ shoulder. “Any casualties of our own?”
“Two.”
Elijah nodded then looked up at Hank.
“You asked me what war we are fighting that requires ammunition. Does that answer your question?” Elijah said.
Chapter Five
Hank could smell bullshit from a mile away and it was being slung at him from all sides. He sent Seth and some of his other boys to perform surveillance on t
he south roadblock, find out what went down from those in the area, and speak to anyone who might have witnessed this so-called attack. Not sticking around to hear the rest of Dan’s horseshit, Hank mounted his horse and headed home to make some drastic changes. He could sense trouble, he’d seen it coming the moment the militia showed up with trucks full of supplies. Who in their right mind would do that for others unless they had an end game?
Upon entering the house, he barked orders like a commander in chief.
“Ruth? Get whatever you need, we are heading back up to the farm.”
“What?”
He charged into the bedroom, not stopping to talk to her. Time was of the essence. He figured they had maybe twenty-four hours before the militia showed up making demands. He’d seen the look on Dan’s face, that gullible moron. He’d bought into the attack, hook, line, and sinker. Not him. He could tell a lie from a mile away.
“Hank. What are you talking about?”
He was fishing through the closet. He pulled out a suitcase and began slinging clothes into it. “We should have done this sooner.”
Ruth got in his way, pressing a hand to his chest.
“Hank. Would you stop for a damn minute and tell me what is going on?”
“The militia. Dan. A cock and bull show. That’s what’s going on,” he said, slipping by her and collecting a few more things.
“And?”
He stopped, shirt in hand. “They’re planning on coming here and removing our weapons.”
“What? Why would they do that?”
He tapped the side of his head like a mental patient. “Think, Ruth. Think about it. It’s a helluva lot easier to control people if they can’t fight back. So you make up some horseshit story about the county coming under attack and Dan falls for it like a gullible moron.” He stopped again, noticing that she looked confused. He took hold of her arms. “Listen. Don’t worry about it. Just get what you need, and we are heading up into the hills and staying at the farm. It’s where we should have gone since day one.”
“But everything we need is here. Besides, they’ve already been here asking for us to move closer to town. And now you want to move farther out?”
“Yep.”
“And supplies?”
“We’ll get what we need from the land, and the rest we’ll hunt for.”
“Hank, there are some supplies you can’t get from the land. I’m certainly not wiping my ass with corn on the cob!”
“Listen to me, Ruth. You might have to. So buckle up! Until I have a better idea of what is happening, I don’t want you going down there. The Rikers have the right idea. Stay up in the hills. Ain’t no one coming up there who isn’t ready to lose an eye or two.”
Ruth stood in the doorway, arms crossed, face puzzled. She’d opted to stay home instead of going with him to the meeting. “I’m telling you, had you been there tonight, you would understand.” He walked over and took hold of her again. “You trust me, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then don’t ask me any more questions. We head up to the farm, and stay there until I know more.”
“You’re worrying me, Hank.”
He hugged her. “Everything will be okay,” he said, looking over her shoulder, realizing that he couldn’t guarantee that. A storm was coming and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be caught in it.
Seth arrived by horseback in the small community of Benbow, two miles southeast of Garberville, with his brother Derek. After suffering the wrath of his father two weeks ago over the attack on Miriam Riker, he was trying his best to earn his way back into his father’s good books. Luke had always protected him from his father, standing between them, taking a few of the slaps that came his way, but now he was gone, he had to face the music.
After climbing onto the roof of Benbow Historic Inn, he brought high-powered binoculars up to his eyes. He scanned the Frank Belotti Memorial Bridge that stretched across the South Fork Eel River, a fast-running river that snaked its way through the lush redwood forest.
“You know, I think they should blast that bridge and bring it down,” Derek said. “At least that way, it would make it harder for raiders to get into the county.”
Without taking his eyes off the bridge, Seth replied, “Derek, I do wonder about you some days.”
“What?”
“The county is huge. If these idiots think they can keep desperate people out with a few roadblocks, they deserve to be attacked.”
“How so?”
He brought a hand up to his face and groaned. “Anyone with a lick of sense that wants to pick this county clean isn’t going to enter via the main stretch.” He sighed, wondering why he bothered to explain.
“They would if they are driving.”
He lowered his binoculars slowly, his brow creasing. “If you want to break into a home you don’t bother kicking in the front door, you go around and look for an open window, or smash glass. The same applies here. They would enter through the hills on horseback or ATV. The smart ones would enter via the bay. No, I think dad’s right. Something about this doesn’t add up.” He brought up the binoculars again. He noticed those manning the checkpoint were militia only. They also didn’t look as if they were under attack. One of them was smoking a cigarette, calm, relaxed; another leaning against a vehicle, drinking a beer. The other four standing behind the concrete barriers glanced downriver, looking as if they were shooting the breeze. “Wasn’t Carl Stevens posted here?” he asked. Derek nodded. Carl was a local. Benbow had a minuscule population of around 300. Like Alderpoint it didn’t offer much in the way of amenities, a grocery store, an inn, and the rest was residential homes dotted throughout.
“Let’s go down and see what these a-holes have to say,” Seth said, shuffling down off the roof on his ass. Back on their horses, they rode to the checkpoint, eager to see how they’d respond. There was no attempt to pretend they were preparing for another attack, and yet one of them put up a hand to slow them.
“Where are you heading?”
“Nowhere. Just roaming. You guys had any trouble?” Seth asked.
“A little.”
“Hmm. Anyone injured?”
“No.”
The moment the soldier said that one of the others tapped him, leaned forward, and said something in his ear, and he turned back to Seth. “A couple of guys were injured.”
Seth struggled to hold in his laughter. These were terrible liars.
“That’s too bad. I hope they pull through. Well, thanks for your service.”
They turned their horses and rode away. He cast a glance back and a couple of the militia were still watching them.
“So?” Derek asked.
“You heard what the captain said. Two were dead. Not injured. Let’s go see Carl.”
They made their way into town, following Benbow Drive around to Riverview Drive. Seth knew Carl only through his brother Ricky who’d attended the same school as him. The few times he’d met him, he’d always been respectful toward the Stricklands. He figured if anyone would give him a straight answer, it would be him.
Ricky and Carl were outside their home, their heads under the hood of an old sedan, as he dismounted. Ricky glanced out. “Seth? What are you doing here?”
“Figured I would drop by and see how you’re holding up.”
Ricky was a string bean fella, all bones and teeth. His clothes hung from his frame like they were still on thin hangers. A meth addict through and through, he looked as if he only had a few years left before that shit ate away at the rest of him. Carl on the other hand was quite different — three years older, and his belly protruded over his belt, peeking out from a black T-shirt. He had thick greasy hair that was the result of spending too much time fixing cars and forgetting to wipe his fingers before he ran them through his hair. He was taller too, with a wispy black-and-white goatee that he hadn’t shaved in over thirty years. He was wearing a Metallica T-shirt, jeans, and a thick plaid shirt over the top. They had a small sola
r generator providing power to a handheld light that was hooked above the hood.
Seth and Derek looked under the open hood at the mangled mess of wires and machinery. “Sorry to hear about your uncle,” Carl said.
“Thanks.”
“What can I do for ya?”
“You volunteer at the south checkpoint, don’t you?”
“That’s right,” he said, taking out a pack of cigarettes and offering them one. Seth took one and he lit the end. “Shitty job, but hey, if it gets me a box of supplies at the end of the week, I can think of worse ways to spend my time.”
“Yeah. Right. Were you meant to be on today?”
“They came by and told us we weren’t needed.”
Seth nodded and took a hard pull on his cigarette. “Did you head home?”
Carl frowned. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?’
Derek asked, “Have you heard any gunfire?”
“No.”
They didn’t live far from the bridge. If there had been a shootout between raiders and militia, they might have heard something. “So you’ve been helping for…”
“Two weeks.”
“And in that time have you seen anyone approach?”
“No, we’ve seen lots of people leave for the FEMA camps but that’s it.”
“No refugees entering?”
“Nope. Why are you asking?”
“Heard there was an attack down here.”
He laughed. “Bullshit. It’s been quiet all day.”
“You think you would have heard it from here?”
“Possibly. Though, I haven’t been outside all day.”
Seth looked under the hood again, shifting the conversation away. He didn’t want to make a big thing out of it, especially as Carl tended to spread rumors. “You trying to get this going?”
“Trying would be the word. The damn computer chip is fried. The rest works well but unless I can get some parts I figure we’ll have to return to using horse and buggy.” He laughed. “I saw you guys had ATVs, what’s the deal with that?”
“My old man kept them in a Faraday cage.”