Fire From The Sky | Book 9 | Brimstone

by Reed, N. C.

  “What?!” Lowery seemed outraged by the reply. “What do you mean we're not as capable as the rest of you! He can't be more than eighteen-,”

  “Nineteen, actually,” Zach interjected, but was ignored.

  “- and I am a grown ass woman with three years of jiu jujitsu under my belt!” she finished hotly. “And I did just finish your damn training program a few days ago!”

  “You finished basic training, yes,” Xavier agreed simply. “Congratulations, by the way. Well done. And speaking of your heretofore hidden talent in the Brazilian martial arts, what rank are you?” he inquired.

  “How do you know it's Brazilian?” she demanded without answering.

  “Your use of an arm-bar take down, while unsuccessful, smacks of it,” Xavier replied. “The Brazilian practice is primarily based on grappling and submission holds. Your immediately going for such a move after failing with your surprise spin heel kick made it evident what form you study. How far have you advanced?”

  “I'm ranked purple belt,” she replied. “Was up for brown before the world melted,” she added.

  “Then how did you manage to get into the situation you were in?” Xavier asked, curious.

  “You may or may not know it,” she replied sarcastically, “but martial arts aren't much use against a machine gun.”

  “That is very true,” Xavier nodded. “I take it you surrendered, hoping for a chance to apply your skills and escape at a later time?”

  “Yes,” her head actually moved back an inch in surprised at his question. “I did.”

  “Excellent planning,” Xavier complimented her. “Never waste yourself on a lost cause. Escape and evade if you can, and if not, stay alive and look for a way to do so later. Well done,” he complimented her again.

  “Thanks,” Lowery replied, her anger melting in the face of the discussion.

  “Quite welcome,” Xavier answered. “Now, with that done, do you wish to join us, or just keep watching in anger?” he asked, almost but not quite taunting.

  “What happened to me not being as capable as you are?” she demanded.

  “How do you think we got that way?” Xavier asked in way of reply. “We worked at it. Just like this.”

  She studied the two of them. She hadn't had much contact with them since her arrival at the farm, though she did know that the two of them were the primary reason she was not still in a cage in Peabody. Or much worse.

  She refused to show it, but Xavier Adair was absolutely terrifying with his overly polite manner while seemingly always ready to strike a killing blow from out of nowhere. But his 'apprentice'...

  Zachary Willis was still just standing there, training knife in hand. When she looked at his face, he was looking back, perfectly still. He didn't move other than breathing, waiting on her to speak or move.

  Like a predator. Waiting for its prey to make a mistake.

  “You two are scary,” she finally admitted.

  “Why?” Zach's face finally showed the slightest emotion, twisting into a small frown. “What did we do?”

  “Do?” she looked almost shocked at the question. “Neither of you has to do a damn thing! Just your presence is fucking terrifying!” she blurted without thinking.

  “I don't get it,” Zach's frown didn't go away.

  “You seriously don't realize it, do you?” she demanded, looking closely at him.

  “I think this is a discussion best left for another time,” Xavier smoothly intervened before Zach could reply further. “My offer is still available, by the way. You're welcome to join us.”

  “Promise not to hurt me?”

  “No,” both replied at once without a trace of humor. “I'm afraid that the way we train in private does, sadly, often lead to injury,” Xavier continued sole. “But the more you sweat, hurt and bleed here, the less you do it out there,” he pointed toward the interstate. “Train the way you intend to fight. Fight the way you trained. Remember that if you forget everything else I've said.”

  “Have either of you ever hospitalized the other one?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

  “Only overnight,” Zach shrugged.

  “True,” Xavier agreed. “Never more than overnight for observation.”

  “I know, deep in my heart that I'm going to regret this,” she said finally. “But what the hell. Sure. Teach me how to kill people and break shit.”

  “I kinda like that better,” Zach said. “Kill people and break shit? Instead of things?”

  “Hardly fitting for polite company, but it does have that backwoods charm to it, doesn't it?” Xavier shrugged. “Very well, Miss Lowery. Here,” he tossed her a rubber training knife she hadn't seen until that second. She did manage to grab it from the air.

  “Defend yourself,” Xavier said. Before she could react, Zach had her on the ground, disarmed, his practice blade at her throat. She looked at him in shock, but his expression had never changed even as he had put her on the ground. There was just nothing there to see.

  “Welcome to the real classroom, Miss Lowery,” Xavier told her. “Again.”

  -

  It was amazing what a little peace could do for people. A year ago, that would have seemed ridiculous, but after the world stopped moving, it became an eye in the middle of a huge storm.

  The Sunday before the first street market in Jordan rolled around, and Clay and Lainie made their way down for dinner in Angela's outdoor dining area. There were some raised eyebrows around the table as the two showed up, but his mother's smile was megawatt.

  “I'm so glad you came,” she hugged him tightly.

  “Me too,” he lied slightly, since he still wasn't sure he'd be glad. The two took seats as everyone gather around. Clay noticed Ally moving a bit more carefully as her belly swelled.

  “How you doing, Ally?” he asked.

  “Is that a trick question?” she looked at him over the table, though her small smirk took the sting from her statement. “Honestly, I'm better than I have any right to be,” she shrugged. “At my age, and with the modern world gone, I'm amazed. Patricia has taken great care of me,” she smiled at her sister-in-law, “and I've been careful. I don't have any real right to complain,” she concluded.

  “You look good,” he smiled. “Got that whole 'glowing pregnant woman' vibe going for you,” he winked, and she laughed.

  “Always a charmer, ain't you, little brother.”

  “He makes the effort sometimes,” Lainie agreed, nudging his shoulder with her own.

  “Okay, that's it,” Angela set the last platter on the table. “Daddy, if you'll say grace we can eat.”

  -

  With the meal over, Clay was at a loss as to what to do. Should he stay and visit, should he get up and leave, or what? His mother had been nothing but polite during the entire meal and desert, peach cobbler no less, and his family seemed genuinely happy to see him there. He noted that Sienna Miller had joined them alongside Jake and his daughter. He caught the big mechanic's eye and raised an eyebrow along with a nod at the copper haired solider. Jake shrugged ever so slightly and grinned just as faintly, showing his happiness. Clay was happy for his friend.

  Another friend was Greg Holloway, who was sitting midway down the table with Talia Gray at his side. This was a new development as far as Clay knew, so he didn't say anything. He knew from Jake that Greg had not enjoyed the best luck in the romance department, so Clay silently hoped that this time would be better. There were no proprietary cues between the two as yet, so they were apparently still in the exploratory stage of their relationship.

  Samantha Walters was nearly a shadow she was so close to Gordy, and Clay fought a laugh at that. They made a cute couple, and Gordy was a much better match for the tiny cowgirl than Clay would ever have been.

  “Clay, how many are going to the market tomorrow?” Gordon startled him out of his ruminations. He turned to the head of the table to look at his father.

  “I don't know yet,” he admitted. “A lot of people have expressed interest
, and we've already drawn lots for the security detail here at the farm, so I guess from everyone else, just whoever shows up at the pad.”

  “How are you going to carry everyone?” Greg asked.

  “If we have to, we can use the ODB,” Clay smiled as he said it, referring to the Olive Drab Bus sitting in their growing vehicle park. It had been an almost automatic nickname for the vehicle. “But we'll allow passengers in the Ghost as well. We'll be using it and one of the armored Hummers to escort the bus.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Greg agreed. “What time?”

  “Eight o'clock,” Clay replied. “Market starts at seven, I think, but I figure with it the first day, it'll take them a little bit to get straightened out. We should get there just as they get the kinks out.”

  “Also, a good plan,” Greg agreed. “I'm interested in seeing how they handle it all.”

  “Me too,” Clay agreed. He turned to his mother.

  “Are you going, Mom?”

  “I'm still considering it,” she replied. “I would like to go and see what's available, but more importantly, for me anyway, is to see how people plan on paying for things. I expect barter to be the primary exchange, but I'm wondering what will be considered more valuable. It should be an interesting experiment.”

  “It will be,” Leanne spoke up from down the table, folded against Heath Kelly, who looked extremely uncomfortable as Ronny sat across the table from them, giving Heath the occasional glare. Just for good measure, he assured Alicia when she complained. Father's prerogative.

  “Everyone will have something they think others want, which means they will place a high value on their goods,” Leanne continued, ignoring her father's behavior. “That value will only come down under two conditions.”

  “First,” Leon took over, “will be a lack of trade. If the vendor isn't getting anywhere, that means the medium for trade will change, or be reduced in hopes of stimulating sales. Or trades in this instance.” Clay hadn't even noted that Millie Long was sitting with Leon, and smiled just slightly. Good for the twins.

  “Second will be when someone comes along with a trade that the vendor wants worse than he wants the price for his or her goods,” Leanne finished. “Haggling will be the story of the day, I'm sure. I hope they've considered that and have their constables ready for that,” she made a little face at the thought.

  “Well, I'd like to go and see, but I think I'll wait for the next one,” Gordon said from his place at the head of the table. “I don't really have any needs, and I expect tomorrow to be a crowded, shoulder shuffling affair, which I really don't have any desire to participate in. I'll just take a day off and rest tomorrow, I think.”

  Clay looked at his father and hid a frown. He'd missed it before, but his father looked tired. More so than at almost any time since things had changed so dramatically. He thought about asking his father if he was okay but decided against it. If Gordon was having a problem, he might not want it known.

  “Well, all anyone who wants to see what's happening has to do is be at the pad at eight,” Clay repeated as he stood. Lainie stood beside him a second later, ready to follow him.

  “I think we're going to head home,” he announced. “Dinner was great, Mom,” he smiled at his mother. “Loved that cobbler, too,” he added while rubbing his belly.

  “Here's some to take home,” Angela surprised him with an airtight container with two very generous servings of cobbler locked inside.

  “Nice,” he drew the word out as he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thanks again. We'll see everyone later.”

  “Good night,” Lainie smiled as she followed him out. The first thing they noticed was a very slight chill in the air.

  “Early fall, I guess,” Clay shrugged. “Nice, though,” he added as Lainie laced her fingers between his.

  “It is,” she nodded. “Good excuse to have a fire,” she said teasingly.

  “It is,” he nodded. “We might have to see about that. But it's a better excuse to huddle under a blanket while we sit outside and look at the stars.”

  “You got me there,” Lainie agreed.

  “We can always eat this delicious pie,” Clay added.

  “I was already convinced, but I'll take the incentive,” she laughed. “It's a date, Cowboy.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  In the end, they had to use the ODB, as the pad had a large group of people assembled well before eight. An armored Hummer with an M240 machine gun would lead the procession, followed by the bus, one pickup (in case something needed to be hauled home) and then a four-wheel Cougar with an M2 machine gun. It seemed perhaps a little heavy, but there was never any way of telling what might happen these days.

  At eight o'clock, the small convoy pulled away from the farm for the short run to Jordan. Clay had taken eight people for security duty, intending to let them swap out, with four on duty at any one time to guard the vehicles. Everyone was encouraged to go in pairs or more, and never be separated from the group if they could help it. Women especially were encouraged not to be alone or out of sight of the others, just in case the crowd was more than the constables in town could handle. Other than that, there was just a reminder that the group would load up to return to the farm at two in the afternoon, and not to be late.

  The trip into town took roughly a half-hour, and as Clay anticipated, the small street market was still in a slight state of disarray as vendors worked to settle into place. The street was already crowded as people from all over the area had come to see what would be offered, and what it would cost.

  The arrival of the farm visitors drew a lot of attention, but it didn't last. The vehicles themselves had long since become familiar, and no one bothered to go and gawk. People streamed off of the bus and gathered in a group as Clay reminded everyone once more about trying to avoid dangers.

  The first security shift was Zach Willis on the M2 aboard the Cougar and Mitchell Nolan behind the wheel, Tandi Maseo aboard the M240 on the Hummer and the more or less recovered Shane Golden in the driver's seat there. Kandi Ledford was not part of the security detail, but had accompanied Shane, and would wait with him until he was relieved to see the market. The relief would be Gordy Sanders, Kevin Bodee, Curtis Montana and Greg Holloway. Talia Gray had also accompanied Greg Holloway, and Samantha Walters had come along as well, so the two of them would likely add themselves to the security detachment.

  “Have fun, but be safe,” Clay warned once more before everyone wandered away to see what they could see.

  “Shall we?” he extended and arm to Lainie, who ran her own through his and smiled.

  “Oh, let’s do.”

  -

  In all honesty, Clay hadn't expected to find anything at the market he wanted. He had brought a handful of silver coins and one gold one just in case. He had two pistols, a rifle and a shotgun in the Hummer, all taken from dead enemies, along with a supply of ammunition for each. He figured if he found something he really liked they would get him a long way in a trade.

  He and Lainie were roughly half-way down the line of small booths when Lainie stopped short. Clay had taken one step and tried to take another before her arm stopped him. He turned back to see what had caught her eye and saw her looking at a booth with small bottles of lotions and several bars of soaps.

  “Oh, I want to look at those,” Lainie almost whispered.

  “Well, let’s go and look,” Clay told her. The two walked over to the small booth, waiting as someone in front of them bartered for a bar of soap. Once that person moved on, they stepped up, looking things over.

  “Good morning,” a small framed, middle aged woman smiled at them. “Let me know if you see anything you like.”

  “What are you accepting as forms of payment?” Clay asked, more from curiosity than because he wanted any 'Goat Milk Health and Beauty Aids', as the sign above them read.

  “I'm trying to be flexible,” the woman shrugged. “As long as it's something I can use, then I'll try to trade for it. Food items
, certain oils and fruits, things like that.”

  “Oh, this smells heavenly,” Lainie was inhaling a bar of soap.

  “Good choice,” the woman smiled. “Apple pectin and peach pectin combined with dehydrated goat's milk and coconut oil. It lathers well and is good for your skin.”

  “What do you want for it?” Lainie asked. “I don't know if we have anything with us we can trade. We could run back to the farm for some kind of food items she would like, couldn't we?” she turned to Clay, sounding for all the world like a little girl in a store.

  “We can't just-,” he started, but the woman interrupted him.

  “You own a farm?”

  Clay turned to look at the woman, who was now studying him carefully.

  “Yeah,” he nodded.

  “How big is it?” she asked, head at an angle as if calculating something on a black board.

  “Little under four thousand acres, give or take,” Clay replied honestly. It wasn't as if everybody around them didn't know that.

  “We need to think about trying to make some kind of deal with her, Clay,” Lainie told him. “If she can make soaps, I mean. The lotions and other stuff are nice, I admit, but soap?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Well there goes the bargaining,” Clay said wryly, resisting the urge to laugh. “I suppose we could try and make some kind of bulk deal, if she's up to it.” He turned back to the woman.

  “You're the ones who pulled up in the military rigs, aren't you,” she stated rather than asked.

  “Yes,” Clay nodded. “They're escorts for the bus carrying our people.”

  “That's a lot of people for a farm,” she noted.

  “It's more of a community these days,” Lainie told her. “The Sanders' Farm.”

  “Really,” the woman sounded very interested in that. “I suppose that makes you Sanders, then?”

  “Yeah,” Clay nodded. “I'm Clayton Sanders.”

  “My name is Evelyn Lacey,” the vendor replied. “Nice to meet you Clayton, and. . . .” she looked at Lainie.

  “Oh, I'm Lainie Harper,” she introduced herself, taking the offered hand. “Nice to meet you, too!”