by Tara Ellis
“Sir?” Walsh asked, confused.
“It’s imperative that we have the continued support of both the Army and Marine commanders,” Montgomery said, irritated he had to explain the obvious. He would personally oversee Dillinger’s handling of Mercy, and it was clear that the geneticist could better serve them in Montana. “We’re going to the Duke Ranch,” he announced. “It’s time we paid a visit to Command Center Two.” Perhaps he’d leave Walsh there with the doctor as a show of his continued presence.
Smiling for the first time that day, Montgomery headed for the door. He had some packing to do.
Chapter 11
TOM
City Hall, Mercy, Montana
Tom made sure he was already seated before everyone began arriving. He knew his size could make him intimidating, and that wasn’t how he wanted to control the meeting. Patty somehow managed to have fresh coffee and some sort of pastry to offer as a breakfast already spread out on the table. Something Tom would have never thought to do. He still had a lot to learn.
Bishop’s voice was rising again so Tom shot him a cautionary glare. While he appreciated how he’d started things off by explaining the second radio and news about the Duke Ranch, Bishop wasn’t handling the pushback very well. Maybe, if he had given the town leaders the full story, there wouldn’t be so many questions.
Tom didn’t say anything when Bishop failed to mention his military background, or how long he’d really been using the radio. However, he planned on having a long, detailed conversation with the guy later that night, back at the ranch. Tom wasn’t going to accept any more excuses. It was time for the full story. On everything.
“Let him talk,” Tom finally said, interrupting Bishop as he attempted to argue with Gary. He was annoying, and had been going out of his way to cause trouble, but he was still a councilman. Gary also had a legitimate point that others in the room were likely thinking, and just not saying. It was best to get it all out in the open.
“Right,” Gary fumbled, clearly not expecting Tom to encourage him. “Well, okay. I just can’t help but wonder if Tom is what’s best for Mercy right now. Would Dillinger even be motivated to come here if it wasn’t for his interaction with you and your group at the FEMA camp?” he asked, looking pointedly at Tom. He gained confidence as he spoke, his voice rising. “And how about the detailed map you left for him at the Duke Ranch, which literally showed him exactly where to go!”
Tom shifted in his seat and bit back his initial reaction. He hoped no one noticed how he was clenching his jaw, or how he was sitting on his hands. “What do you want me to say, Gary? That this is all my fault? Fine, if that’s what it’ll take for us to move beyond it. It’s all my—”
“No.” Patty stood as she spoke, sounding harsh. Waving a hand in the air over her head, she made a grand motion to include everyone in the room. “We’re not doing this. If we start sitting around this table, pointing fingers and blaming each other for everything that goes wrong, we’ll never get around to doing something about it!”
It was still pretty early in the morning, and Tom had noticed a couple of people in attendance had begun to look distracted. Patty definitely had a way to snap everyone back to attention and he was glad she was on his side. She may have handed off the torch for running the town but she continued to be very much an influential figure.
“Is this Dillinger guy coming sooner than he would have?” Sheriff Waters said as Patty took her seat. “Maybe. That doesn’t mean the military wouldn’t have come knocking eventually. And I don’t see how we can blame Tom for another man’s actions. If we’re looking for someone to blame, I think we should start with whoever gave the order for those outlaws to attack us. Or, how about whoever’s pulling the strings behind Dillinger?”
“He’s right.” Paul pushed his chair back, the scraping sound underscoring his words. Everyone looked at him in surprise. Tom knew he was Gary’s best friend and he was the last person anyone expected to speak out against Gary, or in support of Tom.
Standing, Paul looked down pleadingly at Gary, who was seated next to him. “You know how much I’ve lost. As much or more than anyone in this room. Gary, I saw Tom yesterday.” Turning from his friend, he stared at Tom. “I heard those first shots from my place and rode over as fast as I could. I don’t know what I could have done to help if I’d gotten there sooner, but…well, I still went. I got there a few minutes behind y’all, and things were already under control. I saw Tom fighting those men,” he continued, addressing the rest of the room. “I saw a man willing to do whatever it took to save his family, his farm, and his town. So, I say let Dillinger come. Tom dealt with him once before and I’m sure we can all figure out a way to successfully deal with him here in Mercy, too.”
As Paul re-took his seat, Tom cleared his throat. “I appreciate that, Paul. And while I understand your concerns, Gary, I also think the sheriff has a valid point. I might have inadvertently sped up our clash with the military, which I regret, but it was coming nonetheless. They want our cattle. Not just mine, either, but all of ours. They want our crops, our medical supplies, and our farms. They want our town, regardless of who’s here.”
“What are we going to do about it?” Mr. Sullivan asked. Tom sighed inwardly in relief. Another bullet dodged and they seemed to be moving on to more solid ground.
“Get as much information as we can,” Sam answered as he stood and went to the white board. He was obviously in his element and Tom smiled appreciatively at his friend. Sam already had several things written out on the board in preparation, which he addressed one-by-one as he spoke. “First, Caleb and Bishop will both spend extra time on the radios, trying to make contact with other FEMA shelters and military bases. Our hope is that Dillinger might be acting on his own, without any direct orders. Or, if he does have orders, we might be able to get someone else in a higher position to oppose it. Second, we were successful in our interrogation this morning with the, umm, prisoner. He confirmed the outlaws were acting on behalf of Corporal Dillinger and that their primary objectives were to take the cattle and attack the farm. Third, we propose that tomorrow we use the city barbeque and Fourth of July celebration as a time to inform the town as to what is and has been happening, and to request volunteers to act as our own form of city guard.”
“Who’s going to train them?” Dr. Olsen didn’t look convinced, though Tom was relieved to see that most of the others in attendance were nodding in approval of the plan.
“I will,” Sheriff Waters replied. “I have military as well as some SWAT training. Bishop has offered to assist me, and I know there are several other veterans living in Mercy, including Caleb.”
Caleb gave a salute to the sheriff from his spot at the end of the table. “Yes, sir. Over twenty years in the Army. I imagine I still recall a thing or two.”
Several more gestures of approval, including Fire Chief Martinez and Councilwoman Betty. Tom wished Danny could have been there, but his mom insisted that no one wake her that morning. She had opted to stay behind with her and the kids, so they could all get back to cutting the hay. They had four people from town voluntarily standing guard, plus the radios were working again, thanks to Tane and his quick repair job. Tom didn’t think he could stomach being separated again if they didn’t have the ability to communicate.
“I feel better knowing we have a plan,” Al commented, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. The gas station owner frowned as he pointed at Sam and the board. “I’m just not so sure it’s a good idea to be throwing a party tomorrow, considering everything that’s going on.”
“Actually,” Melissa said, looking more optimistic. “While I’m not a psychiatrist, I know enough about mental health to say that I think it would be good for everyone to go forward with the barbeque. It’s one of the few constants we’ve had to look forward to. Not to mention the fact that a whole lot of people are lacking in getting enough protein. Everyone needs to eat, no matter what else is happening.”
“And I think it�
�s an appropriate celebration,” Patty added.
“I think it is, too,” Tom said, finally standing. As all eyes turned in his direction, he offered a silent prayer that he’d choose the right words. He wasn’t all that good at speeches; physical confrontations were more his thing. “The Fourth of July is all about celebrating our independence. It might come across as a little ironic to be making a recruiting speech during it for the possible need to go up against our own military, but it’s about maintaining Mercy’s freedom. The God-given right to not have your freedom or property taken from you, no matter who it is that’s trying to do it.”
When no one challenged him, and even Gary looked as if he might agree, Tom was encouraged to continue. “This afternoon, I’ll be overseeing the slaughter of one of our cows so we can all come together tomorrow, as a town, and celebrate our continued survival. The only way we’re going to succeed is by doing it together. Now, I’m certainly not looking to pick a fight with our military. I think we’re all in agreement that our goal is to protect Mercy, and to look for a way to work alongside what remains of our country in a way that benefits everyone, while ensuring our continued freedom.”
Bishop was the first to clap, and Tom’s initial reaction was to frown at him. However, as one person after another joined in, and then began to stand with Tom, he understood that something important was happening. Something that went beyond giving a speech to make people happy. It was a truth and a common goal that they all shared. It was about more than simply surviving. It was about thriving as a community, together, because they were all a part of something bigger than themselves.
Tom found himself compelled to join them and was caught up in the applause until the sounds all merged into one.
Chapter 12
RUSSELL
Mercy Parish, Mercy, Montana
Russell set his pack on the wooden chair next to the small kitchen table and placed a bag of beef jerky inside, on top of the other things he’d already packed. His bike was hidden up near the spring, something he’d managed to accomplish the day before when everyone was distracted by the attack on the ranch. Not that he really cared if anyone knew he was leaving; he was free to depart Mercy whenever he chose. He simply preferred to avoid questions, and drawing any sort of attention to himself would limit his ability to move around unfettered.
A rare look of discontent crossed his handsome features as Russell recalled the conversation with Ethan and Chloe from the day before. It was rather unfortunate, but the boy had a way of drawing out his curiosity. He simply couldn’t resist evoking the desired reactions, even though it could potentially disrupt the façade he’d been successfully presenting. Russell scoffed at himself as he gathered the last few items lying on the table. It didn’t matter anymore if someone found him odd. After tomorrow, Mercy would be nothing more than another memory. One stop among many along Russell’s route.
He paused to examine the Glock, badge, and nametag belonging to Deputy Rogers. If he had to take on another persona again, Russell would certainly opt for the role of a police officer, instead of a pastor. He decided pastoring required too much patience.
An urgent knocking at the back door disrupted his thoughts, and Russell quickly stuffed the gun and other objects into the backpack before going to answer it. Hovering on the porch, looking somewhat lost, was Councilman Gary.
“Gary,” Russell said without a lot of enthusiasm. “What brings you here?”
“I need to talk to you,” Gary pled, literally pushing his way past Russell and into the kitchen.
“Have you come to confess your sins?” Though irritated by the intrusion, Russell still found the groveling worm to be amusing.
Gary waved a hand absently, completely missing the satire in the comment. “No, no. You were right about the leaders of this town and how they have their own agendas. Something needs to be done about Thomas Miller. Patty has him wrapped around her finger and how no one else sees he is nothing more than her puppet, I’ll never understand. Please, Father,” he continued emphatically. “People might listen to you.”
“Why don’t you call me Russell, since we seem to be such dear friends.”
“O-Okay,” Gary stammered, wavering in his resolve at the realization that Russell wasn’t taking him seriously. “I thought you were one of the few here who saw clearly what Patty’s been doing. Now, things are even worse with Tom. He acts like he’s John Wayne, here to save the day, when all he’s really doing is bringing more misery.”
“Yes, Tom,” Russell muttered. Gary was right that the man had a superiority complex, though perhaps not completely unwarranted. Ethan bore a close resemblance to his father, and they both reminded Russell of his own brother. Was that why he found himself so intrigued by the boy?
“Did you know the Pony Express station may have been attacked?” Gary was asking. “Now some corporal Tom got in a fight with is probably going to turn Mercy into a FEMA camp and of course, Tom wants to fight him instead.”
Gary had left the door open in his haste and a gust of wind found its way inside, snuffing out the candle on the table. As the smoke rose and Russell tuned out the other man’s incessant dialog, he compared Ethan’s features with what remained of the memory of his younger brother. It was a mistake.
The kitchen faded, to be replaced with the small attic room of his childhood, heavy with the smell of burning candles. “Edelweiss” was playing, the tune clunky and erratic as the player’s teeth bounced over the plastic disc.
Daniel was there. A constant pest even though Russell was exceptionally cruel to him. He was particularly persistent that day in trying to get his older brother’s attention, and had entered Russell’s room knowing he would pay dearly for it. He told Daniel to go away. He had warned him. But instead, the ten-year-old did the one thing he knew would make his big brother react. He snatched the blue plastic disc from the player and stood there holding it at the top of the stairs, a grin on his face.
Russell didn’t remember being mad. Instead, he’d felt a calm unlike anything he’d ever experienced as he approached his younger brother and without comment, shoved him down the stairs. The house was old and the stairs were steep, and Daniel’s small body appeared to fly for the briefest of moments as he toppled head over heels, to land in an unmoving heap at the bottom. That was where their mother discovered him, dead, several hours later. Russell was sitting on his bed, listening to Edelweiss over and over again. Russell was just twelve years old, and it was the first time he’d taken a life.
“Father?”
Russell blinked, his mind still drifting in the dark, stuffy attic room.
“Russell?” Gary’s voice rose as his concern grew over the blank stare and unresponsive nature of the priest. Reaching out, he grabbed at Russell’s arms to give him a shake. “Are you okay?”
Russell reacted to the physical contact as if he’d been touched with hot irons, jumping back and colliding with the chair he was standing next to. The backpack toppled over and onto the floor, some of its contents spilling out and clattering across the wooden boards.
His head slowly clearing, Russell was at first simply annoyed with both himself and Gary. He didn’t welcome the imposition of either the visit or the memory it had provoked. The lapse of control was a rare occurrence and not something often witnessed. It seemed to be happening more often since coming to Mercy. Another compelling reason to leave.
Gary still stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, glancing back and forth between the floor and Russell. He didn’t understand what had the idiot so baffled until Gary knelt down and pointed at the gun on the floor.
“Wha-what’s this?” he stuttered, looking up at Russell, his eyes wide.
“The road is a dangerous place for anyone to be,” Russell said evenly, and then sighed when Gary continued to go through his things. Really, the man was getting to be an increasingly maddening nuisance.
Ignoring the beef jerky and two pairs of rolled-up socks, Gary chose to pick up the police badge
and nametag. “Deputy Rogers,” Gary read aloud as he stood with the curious evidence in his hands. “Why do you have this?”
Russell smiled warmly as he reached out and gently removed the gun from Gary’s hand. Tsking, he shook his head as he stepped around the other man. “Oh, Gary.” Moving to the door, Russell closed it firmly before turning around, the smile gone from his face. “I really wish you hadn’t seen that.”
Chapter 13
ETHAN
Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana
Ethan rested his arms on the top rail of the lodge-pole fence and leaned against it. Sam sat next to him, balanced on the pole with his feet resting on the bottom pine railing. They were both scrutinizing the butchering of a cow that was taking place nearby.
The location had been carefully chosen to make the transportation of the meat easier. They were a fair distance away from the barn and main field, and next to the road leading into the ranch, so the wagons could be pulled up close. There’d been a brief debate about simply leading the cow all the way into town before shooting it, but in the end, his dad determined what he thought was the best way to go about it.
Fortunately, the weather was cooperating for the time being. Ethan was getting used to the unpredictable nature of it though, so he knew the currently innocent-looking clouds scattered to the east could easily morph into something entirely different by nightfall. He sniffed at the air, and was comforted that it at least smelled the same, a mixture of dry grass, cow dung, and good ol’ Montana dirt.
Brushing some of that dirt from his hands, Ethan was thankful to get a break from cutting the never-ending hayfield. He’d been pleasantly surprised earlier when Sam arrived back from the town meeting just before lunch, with a group of volunteers to help speed things along. Ten of them in all, which was more than enough manpower to finish the harvest by the end of the day.