by D A Carey
“So what now? We just go hide in a cabin somewhere?”
“Kind of,” Dwight said as if he were teaching now. “The value of a community has always been in the combined efforts of those who are part of it. A single man can defend himself and possibly his family. A clan can defend a few dozen or a hundred people at most. A village or community can defend much more. A confederation or nation can defend so much more again.
“A single man, family, or clan expends all its efforts just to keep the family safe and fed. When your defenses are strong on a scale that only a community can support, then you have the luxury to focus on art, science, religion, education, and those types of things. We in this country have long forgotten those are luxuries and not rights.”
“I think I get what you’re saying,” Liz said.
“At whatever level you can have a common goal or belief system, you can have a strong defense and eventually a safe place to grow and develop all those other things I just mentioned,” Dwight said. “In the Army, a squad can defend each other because we’re all on the same page. As a single family, you often have a common belief, and that’s easy to align on. However, you spend most of your time defending and none on building. At a clan level, you can still have a pretty common belief system, and just a few people can be spared for education, religion, or art. At a village level, you can go further and create charity and deeper religion or art or education. At a national level, you stand on the shoulders of giants and can create huge advances in art, education, learning, and so forth. Nations live and die in the course of history because in our pursuit of advancements and leisure we always lose the virtue that got us there. That begins the rot from within. It takes decades and sometimes centuries to die. But die it does, then another nation is born to take its place.”
“That sounds pretty much like what I’ve heard before by the same man who told me about things our founding fathers planned for. He talked about how this nation would fail when people lost their moral compass and their Christian-based dedication to service and doing something for a higher and better cause,” Liz said.
“By the way,” Dwight asked, “who told you all that?”
“Vince’s uncle. Dave Cavanaugh.”
Andy and Dave nodded in unison, “Makes sense.”
“So what’s going on with the radios?” Liz asked, changing the topic.
Andy and Dwight continued scanning the area around them while they spoke. “Not much, actually,” Andy answered. “We decided beforehand that a couple of push to talk clicks on the button means I’m checking in and all is clear. Three is an acknowledgement that I heard and I’m okay, all is going according to plan. In that case, Vince doesn’t need to know where I’m going or anything that I’d have to put in words for others to hear. He just needs to know I’m all right and the plan is still good and vice versa. If something hot is going on and we need to talk, we’ll hold down the push to talk button for a moment and talk in fragments or code we understand so anyone listening in won’t know what’s going on or who is broadcasting. Speaking in the clear on these handhelds units is a last resort.”
It wasn’t long before a different series of radio breaks followed what was obviously a locked open push to talk button. She could hear Vince whisper to Junior to stay in the truck and be ready to get going fast. Then she heard a door open and someone get out, followed by what sounded like a huge amount of gunfire and an explosion, then more gunfire. Pretty soon an engine in the distance raced for a moment and then it shut down. More gunfire, and a few moments later the car door shut and two clicks on the push to talk. Andy responded with three clicks before setting down the walkie talkie with a chuckle.
He kept on driving as he muttered under his breath, “Yeah, he’s hard to kill.”
***
It was getting dark when Andy maneuvered the SUV through a cluster of industrial buildings to a nondescript building away from the others. The building appeared as if it hadn’t gotten much use even before the recent chaos. Andy stopped in front of a large industrial overhead door, opened it, and ushered them all inside, and closed the door behind them. He and Dwight set up a watch schedule for the observation spots. After that was done, Andy unloaded some supplies and called for volunteers to help get some food ready. For now, they would be either eating cold food or something that could be warmed on Sterno cans.
“Why can’t we have a larger fire?” Carol asked. “We’re cold, hungry, and scared. A fire would help a lot.”
Liz was happy that Carol was coming back around. She’d been so shell-shocked after Jennifer’s death, the horrors they witnessed at the Waldorf, and the trek through Chicago. Liz was worried about her.
“In the dark, a fire can be seen through cracks and windows very easily,” Andy said. “The smell of food travels even farther than the glow of a flame under certain conditions. We’re still in danger. We just made it out of the worst part of Chicago safely. Let’s not push our luck.”
“Okay,” Carol said. Liz was glad she didn’t push it.
When Liz got a moment to talk to Andy away from the others, she wanted to unload a bit and get his reactions. “I can’t believe we made it all the way down Cicero and out of the city. I suppose this is old hat to you soldiers.”
Andy chuckled. “None of this is old hat. We’ve all fought overseas. Those cities were tiny compared to Chicago, and we had clear rules of engagement. I’m not saying it was easy. It wasn’t. This is home, though. It’s our country. We don’t know who’s a threat and who isn’t, and that’s a stressor that makes this much harder.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“Most people don’t. We’re trained to kill, and we totally understand that power. It’s a heavy burden to carry. People like Vince and Dwight carry it a lot heavier than people like me. Although it weighs on all of us.”
“I guess I understand,” Liz said, still somewhat confused.
Andy paused a moment to gather his thoughts. “We passed a dozen ambush sites today as we headed south. Every time we did, you got a little bit scared because you’re just starting to learn about combat. You were watching for people hiding with guns and evil intentions. You wondered who was a threat and where it was coming from. Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. Keeping your head on a swivel and identifying threats is a good way to stay alive long enough to learn more. Dwight, Vince, and me all know we can survive through most of the worst of this. The rest of you and the bad guys aren’t trained like we are. Of course, there is always the possibility of a bullet with our name on it, an event we couldn’t plan for or dodge, or an overwhelming force. We don’t spend a lot of time thinking about that because soldiers get used to living with that early in their combat careers. It sucks, yet it’s a constant buzz deep in our consciousness that just is.”
Liz nodded, understanding dawning.
“What gets a lot of men like Vince and Dwight is the awesome power and responsibility that comes with looking at those people we pass and wondering if today we’ll kill some of them. No matter how correct our choice or righteous our cause, we still know we could be taking away a husband, a father, or a provider. Did we judge properly? Did we need to kill? That’s a heavy load to live with.”
“I get it,” Liz said.
“Not totally you don’t. The thoughts I just shared are the deadliest thoughts a soldier can have for him and his buddies. So when a soldier stops to think and not react, he’s lost his edge. He gets killed and gets a buddy or two killed with him. So we react, and later when things calm down, we pray we chose well. Then we live with what kind of man we are for killing without pause.”
“Wow!”
“It’s easy to kill when you know for sure your life or your friend’s life is in danger. By the time you know for sure you need to kill, it’s usually too late. It’s instinct to kill quickly before it can be done to you, a split-second decision to choose when to unleash the dogs of war and when to run or negotiate.
“I observed around a hundred people as we passed today. I had those thoughts. Who might I need to kill? Who wasn’t actually bad but was desperate to feed a sick or hungry child? Maybe I’ve lost my edge. A lot of soldiers do at some point in their career. I’ll have to see tomorrow or the next day. Hopefully my brain didn’t feel the threat was imminent and allowed my mind to wander. You can’t know what it feels like on the inside to see all those people we’ve passed mile after mile and live with the weight of what I might have to do and then live with the guilt of having those thoughts because I might get a buddy killed by having them and hesitating. Every chokepoint or potential ambush spot we went through, I feared for them as much as for us. I kept praying, ‘Please God, just let us through. Put fear in their hearts so they choose an easier target.’” Andy took a shaky breath.
“That’s scary,” Liz said. It was odd for her to hear the normally playful Andy be so serious.
Then Andy let out a huge smile. “And here we are safe and sound, hidden away with food and friends! See? It’s all about small victories.”
“Well, Dwight doesn’t seem too happy, and Vince isn’t here yet.”
“Dwight carries the weight of some hard stuff with him. None of us truly know what all he’s seen and done. He signed up for this gig to get back home and protect people. I think he hopes all this will redeem him somehow. He doesn’t talk about it much.”
“What about Vince?” Liz queried.
“Vince is worse. He thinks he can control everything because he’s so good and has had so much success. That’s the worst kind of delusion. No one can talk him out of it, though,” Andy said soberly.
“Why talk him out of it?”
“Because if you think you can control it all, then every person you kill, every soldier that doesn’t make it home, becomes your fault. I trust Vince with my life. People tell stories about how good he is, but no man is perfect. He carries the weight of every person he’s killed, every mission that wasn’t perfect, and every solider that didn’t come home like an anvil around his neck. He doesn’t focus on all the people that lived because of the good choices he made. He needs to think about how many more would have died if someone else had led. If he doesn’t get over that, it will cripple him emotionally. I hear it came close a few years back.”
“What about Ellie and Kate? Can’t they help?” Liz asked.
“I wasn’t around him then, but men talk. He was just too involved in his own issues to let them help back then. He’s a little better now. A woman has to have a life too, though. Ellie needed to move on, and she did. She gets him, and I think a part of her feels disloyal for moving on. Deep down, Vince understands and knows she did the right thing. That still doesn’t make it easier.”
Respite
“We sleep safely at night because rough men stand ready to visit violence on those who would harm us.”
- Winston S. Churchill
<< Vince >>
Vince had mapped out the safest route back to Peotone. The rest should have already made it there. Miraculously, no one reported any need to fight heading south on Cicero. It was like an angel riding on their shoulders considering all the damage and crime they passed. Now wasn’t the time to let down their guard. Peotone had seen violence too, and there were bad people and hungry people everywhere. Vince was driving, and he’d asked Junior to ride shotgun. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Junior; it was that he hadn’t worked with him before. Blacking out the headlights to a small slit was dangerous. While you could see directly in front of you, peripheral vision was severely limited. Vince was more experienced and confident in his skills to drive under those conditions.
As they approached Peotone, Vince hoped they were past the worst of things. When he began seeing fields, barns, and less destruction, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. They covered the last few miles to the warehouse in the dark with only the slits of blackout lights. The building was near where they stayed on the way up, and there didn’t appear to be anyone else around. His first choice would have been to keep the group going until noon that day, then try to find a building that hadn’t been used for a while with a good field of view. But they were tired and had made good time getting out of Chicago and needed a chance to regroup. Dwight, Andy, and the main group were already at the warehouse waiting for him and Junior.
Vince liked the building Dwight chose; his instincts were solid. The building was a weed-covered cinderblock building with a metal roof and glass windows that had been painted black many years ago. The roof sagged some, and Vince didn’t know how Dwight was sure he could open the doors without a chain and a tow truck. It sat back off the road among a large industrial compound that didn’t appear as if it had been used in years. He gave it a cursory onceover as he approached and mentally planned to do a more detailed scout after they were settled in. Although Dwight could have done the scout, that was the kind of thing he preferred to do himself. It settled his mind.
The Dollar General store near the warehouse was now not only looted but burned out as well. The good news was that there didn’t appear to be anyone near it and not many places left to hide.
Vince picked up the walkie talkie. “Give me two flashes of light and open the door.”
“Roger,” Dwight responded.
When he got inside, he liked the ability to get deeper in the building and position the vehicles in a way to help conceal light or sound. Vince got his SUV parked in the warehouse, and everyone gathered to ask questions. He spoke to the group while focusing directly on Andy and Dwight. “I want to scout a bit and make sure I wasn’t followed and no one saw your light.”
The civilians didn’t understand why he wanted to go back out. Junior and Andy nodded. Dwight merely gave another, “Roger.”
“I know it’s not easy, but you all need to try and get some sleep,” Vince said to the group. “We need to be back on the road between two and three in the morning. It comes fast. You all need your rest.”
“Vince, two AM is early. It feels safe here. We’re all tired and stressed out. Can’t we get a few more hours’ rest?” Liz said.
Vince shook his head before she even finished speaking. “We’re still too close to Chicago. This safety is an illusion. If hoodlums find this warehouse, we’re boxed in. This can be a trap as much as a haven.”
“Okay,” she replied, her voice betraying her weariness.
“Besides, it’s like I said before, we have our safest period of travel between about three AM and noon tomorrow. That’s when the thugs are sleeping off the previous night’s binge. They’re lazy in general, and that’s the best time for us to be on the move. We need to make the most of it.”
Malcolm nodded. “I agree.”
“Keep this in mind,” Vince cautioned, “while Andy, Dwight, Junior, and I can fight, I have you all to think about. For now, I’d rather run than fight, because in a fight anything can go wrong.”
It wasn’t lost on Vince that the body language of others in the group improved when Malcolm agreed with him. Malcolm had natural leadership, and people responded well to him. That might come in handy down the road.
Vince slid out into the darkness on foot through a small side door to surveil the avenues of approach from the shadows and see if they were followed. He was at home in the dark. It was a place to let his mind find a peaceful spot and be in control of his circumstances. The darkness covered him like a blanket. He stayed close to the building and let his mind almost subconsciously sift through the sounds of the night, wind blowing across loose tin roofing, critters digging through garbage, cats fighting in the distance. They were all normal sounds and allowed Vince’s mind to relax. Had there been some movement, sound, or shadow that didn’t fit in with what was natural for this place, he would have been on instant alert. It had been a stressful day, and this was a good way for him to relax and take stock of the day and himself, alone and in the dark.
<< Liz >>
Most of the people around
Liz were trying to relax. There were pallets of blankets and people in different states of rest. The concrete floor had a thick layer of dirt and dust, leaving most people to find a spot in the cars or on a table or work bench. It was easy to tell there was very little sleeping going on. As tired as everyone was, they were filled with bundles of nervous energy, most of all Dwight. He was like a caged cat, silently pacing from window to door and back in the warehouse. Andy was just the opposite. As soon as he lay down, he was sound asleep, which Liz confirmed by the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest.
She was sitting next to Junior on a wooden pallet covered by cardboard and blankets, her back against a car. Both were tired, yet neither could sleep. “What happened back there when you and Vince stayed behind?” she asked quietly. “We heard shots and an explosion. It was hard to tell if all the shooting was from you two or what was going on.”
“Oh, man,” Junior said with an expression that was an odd mixture of awe and weary acceptance. “Vince is the real deal. It was spooky how calm he was. I’ve seen Special Forces men in my career and some very good ones. I’ve seen men who may have been stronger or better in hand to hand combat. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that level of dead calm and drive toward a mission in a man’s eyes, though.”
Junior glanced over at Liz’s face to see if she was getting it. It was hard to describe an emotion, especially like Junior experienced when seeing Vince in action. “He actually set a trap for those thugs…only me and him against them. He had no idea how many there would be. It was like we had them outnumbered, not the other way around. We needed to stop them or else. He planned it and didn’t show any doubts at all. I don’t think he needed me or even cared I was there.”