by Lopez, Rob
“What’s happening here?” said Connors as he arrived at the edge of the ten acre forest clearing.
A platoon of militia lay in a line under the trees, rifles aimed toward the house. A single man lay by a gravel track, about a hundred yards into the meadow. He was screaming and clutching his leg. Another man, a militia member, was crouched farther in against the wall of the chicken coop, ducking low to keep his head below the level of the roof. Clutching his rifle, he kept glancing toward the screaming man, but it was clear he was afraid to move.
“It’s a standoff,” explained Parson. “We had a squad escort the tax assessor to the property, but the owners got into an argument with him. They wouldn’t let us inside to inspect the armory, either.”
“Armory?”
“It’s a prepper community. We think there’s about three families here, with maybe some in-laws or friends as well. They’re well armed, and in the shootout, the assessor got hit. The platoon had to retreat, but we’ve got one guy stuck there. Got another couple of guys wounded behind you, but we’re treating them now.”
“Did you tell them who we were so they didn’t just mistake you for bandits?”
“We made it very clear who we were, sir, and, well, that just seemed to piss them off even more. They said they don’t owe the state nothing and demanded we get off the property.”
Connors checked the house out with binoculars. “Doesn’t look like they’ve got a way out of there. We could wait. Tried cutting off their water supply?”
“It’s hidden, and they’ve got a periscope and a gun position in the roof with an arc of fire over the back. We couldn’t stick around for a better look.”
“Seems like they have themselves a very well-protected property.”
“Yes, sir, they do. And I wouldn’t count on a siege, either, as I’m pretty sure they have a good stock of food. Besides, I don’t want to wait as I’m worried about our assessor. He’s hurt real bad and I don’t know how long he’ll last.”
“If he’s got the energy to yell like that, he ain’t hurt so bad, or he would have bled out by now. Have you tried a parley under a white flag to get them to see sense?”
“Yes, sir. Nearly got my head blown off. They don’t want to talk. I’m thinking maybe if you’ve got some smoke grenades in your arsenal, we could lay a screen to retrieve our men. Then maybe we can let the situation calm down and find another way to communicate with them. Maybe negotiate.”
Connors gave him a look. “Sure we can communicate with them.”
He turned and walked back a few yards to where Leon and Taft had set the mortar up.
“Level the place,” he said.
The first round looped high into the air and landed behind the house, sending up a cloud of dirt. The second round landed in the middle of the roof, ripping it open like tinfoil.
*
Lou sat at his desk in the middle of his construction supplies yard, reappraising Rick.
“You’ve got balls,” he signed, interpreted by Farah.
“If that’s all I had, I wouldn’t be very useful.”
“You beat the raiders.”
“They’re gone.”
“You drove them out?”
“No. They’re gone. In the terminal sense.”
“And you brought two of our women back.”
“This is where they live.”
“I have to say, I didn’t think you could do it.” Lou leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard. “And now I suppose you want something in return.”
“Doesn’t work that way. I want to invite you to attend a summit.”
Lou laughed noiselessly, his shoulders shaking. “A summit? Like world leaders?”
“Community leaders. I’d like to invite you and others to Old Fort to discuss where we go from here. I want to propose an alliance.”
“And what have the others said?”
“I haven’t asked them yet. You’re the first.”
“Like I said, you’ve got balls. Am I to understand that you’re going to be the leader of this alliance?”
“That’s not how it works either. The alliance will be whatever everyone wants it to be.”
“And if I say I don’t want to go?”
“I can’t make you, but what’s the harm in coming? Hear me out, take part in the discussion, and if you don’t like it, you leave. It’s pretty straightforward.”
Lou tapped the table for a minute before launching his hands into another flurry of signing. “And if I join an alliance, I guess I’ve got to commit my people to something.”
“That’s generally how an alliance works.”
“That means a commitment from you too.”
“It does. We’ll haggle out the details at the summit. If you come.”
Lou scrutinized Rick, like he was trying to figure out a hidden subtext. “I’ll take it under consideration,” he signed.
“Okay. We meet at the Old Fort Railroad museum in five days. Noon. I’ll leave it up to you if you want to be there.” Rick got up, taking back his Glock from the table and holstering it. “We arrived in two vehicles. We’ll leave in one. The other one’s yours.”
Lou cocked an eyebrow. “A gift? Or a bribe?”
“Take it anyway you want. It’s surplus, and it gives us a means to stay in touch. At least until someone figures out how to fix the radios.”
*
Dee looked out from the deck adjoining the mobile home. A plastic chair in the fenced yard was almost obscured by waist-high weeds. A rusty satellite dish rocked in the breeze on its loose mounting. The windows of the home were grimy, and Dee couldn’t see inside too well. Bonnie, one of the women rescued from the raiders, refused to even enter the house.
“I don’t feel safe here anymore,” she said in a self-embrace. “I don’t know if I can come back.”
“I understand,” said Dee. “I’ll go inside if you want, see if I can get some of your things.”
“I don’t want them. They’re not my things anymore.” Bonnie pushed her dark hair from her face and chewed on a finger nail. Her gaunt features were tense, the skin pulled tight over the cheekbones. “They took everything from me, you know? They invaded and violated it. And me. It’s not my home anymore. I wish they’d burned it. I wish …”
“It’s okay,” said Dee. “You can stay someplace else. Somewhere with more people.”
They were on the edge of the Ashworth community here, by the road that snaked through the hills before descending to the abandoned streets of Marion.
“I don’t want to be with people,” said Bonnie. “It was people who did this to me. I want to be alone but … I don’t feel safe anywhere. Is this how it was for you?”
“It was.”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“I know.”
“Goddamn it, I want to cry but I’ve got no tears. It’s like I don’t want to let them out.”
“You’re afraid that if you open up, you’ll let in the pain.”
“What is there for me now? I don’t want this. I … I can’t live like this.” Bonnie put her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. “I got too many memories. I grew up here. I, like, played right here as a kid. I can see the other kids. We used to run around. I can see them now. And I can see the raiders coming to the house …”
“They’re gone now,” said Dee. “They won’t be coming back.”
“They’re all gone. Everyone I grew up with.” Bonnie took a deep, halting breath. “I can’t stay here.”
“Then don’t. Come on. We’ll find Phoebe. You can shack up together.”
“She’s got her folks …”
“It’ll be okay. They’ll understand.”
“But will they? Does anyone understand? I’m going to be just some freaky woman to them. Promise me you’ll stick around. You get how it is. Please. I don’t want to be alone.”
Dee took Bonnie’s hand. “I’ll come visit. I’ll visit you all.”
Bonnie gripped the hand tight. “You
have to. Promise me you will.”
“You know I will.”
“I don’t.”
“You do. We’re in this together. Show some grit. I know you’ve got it in you.”
Bonnie laughed mirthlessly. “Sure. A real southern gal.”
“You’re not alone. Jacob and me will always be here for you.”
Bonnie smiled and stroked the baby’s face.
“Phoebe’s pregnant,” she said.
“She told me.”
“Her folks are going to go nuts when they find out.”
Dee sighed. “We’ll support her the best we can.”
“I haven’t talked to her about it. I can’t.” Bonnie gazed out across the hills. “This is so screwed up. What kind of future have we got?”
Dee was quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure.”
“Who’s going to take care of us?”
Dee’s eyes flashed annoyance. “We take care of ourselves. And each other.”
Bonnie glanced at her and grimaced. “I’m sorry. I’m just on a pity trip.”
Dee softened. “It’s okay. I … I get like that too. But it doesn’t help.”
*
Rick and Packy waited with the Blazer on the interstate ramp.
“You didn’t have to give them the Plymouth Road Runner,” said Packy sulkily.
“You can’t keep them all,” said Rick. “We ain’t collecting.”
“Yeah, but not the Road Runner. Why didn’t you give them that sorry-ass pickup? It was only a Ford.”
“Doesn’t matter. There’ll come a point when we’ve salvaged all the fuel there is to find, and every vehicle we’ve got will be useless.”
“That depends how good you are at salvaging. Me, I’ve got my eye on supplies that will last us a while.”
“In a few months, all the fuel will have gone bad, and then what?”
“I got stabilizer I can add to it. It’ll work.”
“And when you run out of stabilizer?”
“What is this? A competition to see how much of a downer you can put on things? We adapt, man. We made it to the moon. I’m pretty sure we can keep a crappy Ford moving. Innovation: that’s what it’s all about.”
Rick gave him a doubtful glance. “That ain’t adaptation. That’s dreaming. Nobody’s making stuff anymore. All we’ve got is the technology left over from before the storm. Most of it is useless and the rest is finite. Nobody’s drilling or mining or cooking stuff up in a lab. Once we’ve used it up, it’s gone.”
“Wow, this is a military mind speaking. You’re a professional pessimist. Everything’s dark and depressing to you, and you’re always expecting trouble. It’s how you’re trained, you see? Now I grant you, it’s a useful skill when it comes to killing a ton of people. That ain’t a job for no optimist. But you gotta have some faith in us entrepreneurs. If you don’t dream, then all you’ve got is, well, what you’ve got. You can’t make nothing new if you don’t imagine it first.”
“I’ve got a useful fact for you: most entrepreneurs fail.”
“Yeah, but the ten percent, man. That’s where it’s at. Hell, maybe even less than ten percent. That small number of pioneers and entrepreneurs have brought humanity a long way. We have literally dragged your average Joe into modern times. We can do it again. You’ll see.”
“Well, this average Joe ain’t convinced.”
“Oh, you ain’t average.”
“No?”
“Nah. Some people have to work at being so miserable, but for you it just comes natural. You’ve got talent.”
“Thanks.”
“Not the kind of talent I’d want, but hey, to each their own.”
“We can’t all be happy flowers, Packy.”
“Jeez, at least make the effort.”
Dee appeared, walking down the ramp with her baby, a faraway look on her face.
“Now that is one unhappy flower right there,” said Packy. “Hides her beauty behind broken petals and is forever lost to the world.”
Rick glanced at him in surprise. “You getting all poetic now?”
“Everything I do is poetry,” said Packy carelessly as he moved around to the driver’s side of the car. “It’s a groove.”
As Dee got into the vehicle, however, Rick noticed something artificial about Packy’s studied indifference to her. Like maybe he preferred to look at her and talk to her but somehow couldn’t.
They drove back to Round Knob in silence. Life in the compound had taken on a more placid air, with children playing by the lake and volunteers helping Chuck plant a vegetable garden. Most of the Bergen Mountain community had opted to move into Camp Grier, led by Doug. Sally and Harvey also chose to stay there, running a new medical center and taking care of the last typhus patients. The people who opted to come to Round Knob quickly filled the cabins and houses secluded in the woods, much to Packy’s consternation, who had to share his palatial new digs. Rick reinforced the roadblocks and built two new OPs to overlook the valley, but after the victory over the raiders, people were starting to relax, focused more on securing food and fuel stocks than worrying about security. Rick had led a couple of patrols into the hills, looking for signs that fugitive raiders might be regrouping, but all he found were young deer and an angry black bear protecting her cubs. Apart from advisory notes for some of the less experienced hunters, no more intel was gained from the patrols.
Rick mounted the steps to the lodge where his and Scott’s family lived. It was a big, luxurious building and could have easily housed more people, but so far nobody complained about Rick and Scott taking it.
Not to their faces, anyway.
Rick preferred it for its vantage point, but Lauren had already fallen in love with its homely touches.
“You know, I can just see us sitting in front of the hearth this winter, swapping stories by the fire, roasting chestnuts, all that stuff. Can’t you?”
“Uh huh,” said Rick absently, laying his rifle on one of the many couches in the long room. The raiders had carved their names into the exposed roof rafters, and the polished wooden floor was heavily scratched, but apart from that, they hadn’t beaten the place up too much. At least not until Rick and Scott had come along to add a few bullet holes to the paneling. Surprisingly, not a single pane of glass had been broken.
Lauren, carrying a basket of washing, stopped to watch her husband sink into a chair.
“Are you ever going to relax?” she said.
“I am relaxing,” said Rick, staring at the wall.
“No, I mean really relax. Like, not planning stuff all the time.”
Rick turned to her and saw the washing basket. “You should leave that for April. I need you to organize the watch rotas.”
“It’s been done. And I’m giving April a hand. Have you given some thought to perhaps living a normal life?”
“A normal life?”
“Sure. You’ve got two children. And a wife. We’re entitled to your attention too. You’re still in campaign mode.”
“Until this is over, I have to be.”
“And when’s this going to be over?”
Rick paused. “I don’t know.”
“The raiders are gone, Rick. Everyone’s settling into routines, prospects are looking good and you’re still out fighting a war. Even Scott is spending more time with his family.”
“Don’t lay that on me.”
“It’s my job to lay it on you. Nobody else is going to tell you. You’re like a four-star general to them. Or worse, a machine. I’m not your master sergeant. Or your secretary. Open your eyes and start paying attention to what’s happening right here, not out there on some imaginary front line.”
“No need to get like that. I’m not blind.” Rick tried to think up some example of how in touch he was with community matters. “I’ve noticed that Packy’s got the hots for Dee.”
“Oh you have, have you? That’s old news, honey. All the single guys in the compound have been eyeballing Dee for days now. Did you
know that Red’s teaching Josh how to tan and stitch raccoon hide, so he can make his first coon hat? Did you know that Lucy Jane, the girl that Lizzy is playing with right now by the lake, doesn’t have any parents and is sleeping in a different house each night? And she hasn’t bathed in months? Do you know the Clement brothers are building their first whiskey still, and that while Chuck is planting vegetables, they’re fixing to grow marijuana instead?”
“That’s all …”
“Irrelevant to you. I know. Until you factor in the Yorkins.”
“Who?”
“Exactly. You have no idea who they are. John Yorkin is friendly with Chuck but hates the Clements, and he’s threatened to bust up their still. He has a fourteen year old daughter named Grace, and Josh might get interested in her, seeing as she’s the only girl near his age around here, but John’s pretty protective of her. Like, insanely protective. Potential conflict there. And Lucy Jane has lice, and a knitted sweater she refuses to take off because it was made by her mother and it’s all she’s got left of her. She’s a walking infestation, which is why she gets moved from one house to another. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg of all the stuff you don’t know.”
“You’re better at that crap than me.”
“I’m not asking you to take over. I’m just saying you need to quit zoning out. You’re becoming distant again.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“That’s my point. How much of that is necessary, and how much of it is because you can’t switch off and stop being a soldier?”
Rick frowned in disappointment. “I told you I wasn’t blind, and I’m not stupid either. I have been giving this some thought, but I want to make sure we’re secure enough to be able to relax.”
“And you think that day will come?”
“Yes I do. But first I want to secure alliances with other groups so that I know we’re not alone. After that, I’ll happily punch John Yorkin in the mouth if he steps out of line.”
Lauren smiled in amusement. “I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t need to be that drastic.”
“Whatever. Just let me finish this, okay? If we do it right, it will be worth it.”