Fire From The Sky | Book 9 | Brimstone

by Reed, N. C.

  “The zealot,” Clay replied at once. “Criminals can usually be reasoned with, though not every time. There's no reasoning with a zealot.”

  -

  Kurtis Montana was watching the ground as he rode, letting his horse pick his way through the rocky and uneven land they were searching. His eyes were always moving, covering the same spot three to four times in the amount of time it took for his horse to ride past it. It let his eyes see the ground from slightly different perspectives.

  Kurtis had learned to track as a young teenager, following older men who had to hunt and kill predators, and had to hunt and occasionally shoot rustlers. He had learned out in the wild how to tell what had come and gone, and when.

  No one noticed Kurtis stop except Gleason. The older man pulled out of the group and rode slowly back to where Kurtis was squatting down, studying the ground.

  “What have you found, son?” Gleason asked quietly.

  “I don't know what kind of shoes this guy might be wearing,” Kurtis didn't look up at the soldier, “but a man with slick soled shoes slid off this little shelf right here, not more than three days ago.”

  “How do you know it was three days?” Gleason asked.

  “It rained four days ago,” Kurtis got to his feet. “Wasn't a downpour, just a gentle little rain. But it was enough to let him slip and slide down this little rise, here. It ain't rained since, either. This slide is still pretty much undamaged. That means it didn't rain on it except when it was still wet.”

  “You got good eyes, son,” Gleason complimented. “Deputy!” he called to Bronson. “We may have a lead, here!”

  -

  “Boy, I don't know where you learned that, but you're a hell of a tracker, I can say that,” Bronson told Kurtis as he studied the slide. “I rode right by that, and I call myself a hunter.” He looked down at the bramble and shrubbery that ran for as far as the eye could see in the hill country.

  “There is no telling where that idiot is, out there,” he said softly. “And you can forget getting the horses through that mess. If we want to find who did this,” he gestured at the slide, “we're gonna have to go in there on foot. And that is gonna purely suck.”

  “Definitely,” one of the soldiers agreed.

  “Let’s head down to where they are,” Bronson pointed to the other group, visible in the distance. “I really don't want to go in there,” he added softly.

  -

  “The truth is, if he ain't dead or dying, he'll be back in town in a few days at most,” Bronson told Adcock. “Heading into that brush is asking for a man to get hurt, and there's no way to take a horse in there without it hitting rocks. I doubt a horse could make it through, to be honest.” He looked at Greg Holloway.

  “He's burrowed up in a den, just like an injured rabbit,” he told his fellow deputy. “We'd need a ton of luck to find him at all.”

  “He's right,” Kurtis was nodding. “That bramble is as thick as anything I've ever seen. If he's out there in that, he's lucky he's not already snake bit.”

  “No kidding,” Bronson agreed immediately. “Copperheads are still out, and we killed a four-foot rattler yesterday about a half-mile back into town.”

  Captain Adcock was not liking what he was hearing, and neither was Clay, but it didn't seem to matter. In the end, there was nothing to do but abandon the hunt for now.

  “What are the odds we've spooked him away?” he asked softly, looking around him.

  “He's got no reason to think we're looking for him,” Greg pointed out. “If he doesn't think he's done something wrong, then he's got no reason to run. For all he knows, if he can see us at all, we're hunting game.”

  “Even with us along?” Adcock asked.

  “Especially with you along,” Bronson fielded that one. “We'd be more likely to help you get game than give you anything we already have of our own. No offense,” he added with a 'what can you do' gesture of his hands out at his waist, palms up.

  “None taken,” Adcock promised. “I don't blame you. We are trying to trade for or buy fresh foods or livestock, but we're not seizing anything from anyone. None of us are.”

  “So, we're back to town, then?” Clay cut in. “If we're not after him, then we shouldn't be talking about him like we're after him, in case he can hear us.”

  “Excellent point,” Greg agreed. “I suggest we head back. We all need a break and some water. And we'll have to head back, soon.”

  “Why?” Bronson asked.

  “We need to be back in camp before night,” Adcock answered that one. “We're not experienced riders and being on pavement is hard on the horses as it is. I'd like for us to be done by dark.”

  “I see,” the deputy nodded. “Then Greg's right. We need to head back. By the time you let your horses rest and you take a nature call, it will be time for you to head back. I'm sorry we couldn't find the little weasel.”

  “We'll locate him eventually,” Adcock replied softly. “Let’s do head back. I need to have another word with your mayor before we leave.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The group returned about twenty minutes before twilight, enough light remaining that they were able to make it into camp with no problems. Lieutenant Flores was waiting for them near the center of camp. Clay didn't bother to stop and hear what she had to say. This wasn't his command, which meant it wasn't his business. He and his group took the horses to their picket area and began caring for them. Clay was finishing a rubdown on a second horse when Adcock approached him.

  “Things were quiet here while we were gone, but elsewhere, not so much,” he looked grim. “We got a radio call from the Major while we were in town. A scout patrol found a small town that should have about thirty-five hundred people, but has maybe two hundred and fifty. That alone would be strange, I suppose, but those who are left are preaching that crap about being worthy and what not. One mentioned that those who weren't worthy were, and I quote, 'purified',” he raised his hands in an air quotes gesture.

  “Well, that's not creepy at all,” Clay sighed, rubbing his face.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Adcock agreed. “The Major also asked if you would be willing to consider allowing a small team to winter on your farm,” he added, somewhat hesitantly. “He wants to try and have a small presence in several areas in the region to respond to what he called 'local events',” Adcock again used air quotes.

  “How small are we talking about?” Clay asked.

  “Likely a squad with an extra fire-team,” Adcock replied. “I'm guessing, you understand, but probably someone like Lieutenant Gillis, supported by an experienced NCO and then call it four fire-teams. Probably less than twenty, for sure.”

  “I honestly don't know if we can feed so many extra people,” Clay answered truthfully. “I do know that we absolutely can't put them up. Like I said before, we're literally sleeping atop one another in some cases. It's one of the things we're hoping to alleviate in the next few months, weather and criminals allowing.”

  “They'll have their own food and shelter,” Adcock assured him. “If you all choose to let them table with you on occasion, that's your decision and I'm sure they would appreciate it, but they'll have MREs with them as well as pre-thermed squad packs. And the smaller version of the tents we used here. They'll stand up to the winter just fine, and they're heated. The only thing I would ask is allowing them to use your shower facilities a few times a week, since they won't have one that will really be adequate for winter use.”

  Clay mulled that over, but it simply wasn't something he could decide on his own.

  “You plan to have a presence in Jordan, too?” he asked, stalling for time.

  “We hope to,” Adcock replied. “I've also asked Mayor Seward for the same thing. We're trying to spread out for the winter. Partly hoping we can buy or trade for at least some supplies to sustain us, but mostly to try and be on hand to help in the event there's trouble.”

  “I don't think you have enough junior officers or senior enlisted
for too many of these penny packets,” Clay observed.

  “It won't just be my group,” Adcock informed him. “I think the Major will try to keep one company sized response unit together, and spread the rest over the area we're trying to cover. I expect him to have commanders like me be responsible for a particular district, or maybe county if the population is large enough, keep a platoon sized response unit and then make occasional spot checks on the penny packets, as you called them. Our resources aren't bottomless, and this lets us use our fuel more efficiently. Meanwhile, we'll have to start trying to buy or trade for horses, I'd imagine,” he shook his head with a wry grin. “From horses all the way up to Abrams and Brads, and then right back to horses. Life really is on a wheel, ain't it?”

  “I'll have to run it by the others, first. I can't make a decision like that on my own,” Clay finally told him. “I don't personally have a problem with it, so long as whoever you choose to be on the farm can keep a handle on the men with him. Or her. I don't need any kind of problems that a full squad of soldiers could cause. I have to wonder, though,” he added thoughtfully, “if you're wanting to place men in Jordan, why are you interested in keeping someone at the farm? We're not near anywhere that Jordan isn't.”

  “Truthfully?” Adcock was frank in his reply. “We need outfits like yours to do well. Better than well, if possible. You may not have the resources to help us now, but if we can establish a way of paying for fresh foods and meats, then maybe you can plant more next year. We've encountered a handful of other operations like yours spread throughout the area, and are in the process of negotiating the same thing with them. We've got to have resources to try and keep our people working. Some of them have families that we're also responsible for. Right now, we're using a state park that had an inn, cabins, and group lodges to billet families in.”

  “From among those people we've managed to gather a decent size group of people with skills we needed to start our own, much smaller operation. Gardens, making use of naturally occurring foods in the area, using orchards that few others seem to use. We don't take all of anything, mind you, leaving some for others no matter how badly we want it. We've also managed to start a much smaller livestock operation, with a handful of breeding stock to try and build us a herd over the next few years.”

  “All that while still trying to keep the peace,” Clay mentioned. “Most people would just pull their horns in and sit quietly.”

  “You didn't,” Adcock pointed out. “You've left your farm more than once, or even twice, to try and do the right thing, even though it's not your job to do. We're supposed to be doing this. The fact that we're no longer getting paid or being supported doesn't relieve us of that responsibility. Sometimes I'd rather it did,” he admitted. “But the bottom line is that someone has to do this, and it was our job from the beginning. Not everyone has shown up, and I suspect that those who haven't already, never will. They've either elected to take care of their own, which I fully understand, or else. . .or else they're simply not able to report in at all,” he settled for saying.

  He left unsaid that the reason they were unable to report was that they were likely dead.

  “This whole thing is really a mess, isn't it,” Clay said suddenly, his voice low. “Almost a year gone by and we're still feeling the effects of the disaster. I've warned my people all along that this was our new normal. Not to expect things to ever go back to the way they were. But knowing it's coming and seeing it arrive are two vastly different experiences.”

  “We'll feel the effects for years to come,” Adcock agreed somberly. “There was a time where only the strongest and most hardy of people survived. We eliminated that for the most part, at least in first world nations. But the tools we needed to do that are gone, now. The support structures that enabled us to do that are gone, and you're right. We're unlikely to see them return. I've already seen children that died from starvation because there was no way for their parents to feed them. Others who will be stunted in their growth by malnutrition.” He paused, looking away into the growing dark.

  “People with the hollow-eyed look of zombies who are just trudging along, trying to get from one day to the next. When they see us pull up, you can see them light up for a few minutes, thinking the help they expected last winter has finally come, late though it might be. I hate seeing the look on their faces when they realize that we can't actually help them. It's like. . .watching them fade away all over again,” he sighed. “I hate it,” he almost whispered.

  “Of course, you do,” Clay clasped Adcock's shoulder in solidarity. “You're supposed to stop things like that. And when you can't, it's as if you've been stabbed in the heart. Or in the back,” he added darkly. “But if you keep letting what you can't do get to you, you aren't going to make it, man,” he warned. “You can't do it.”

  “I'm aware of that,” Adcock agreed, his eyes flashing for just a second at being 'lectured', but the fire faded as quickly as it appeared. “I am,” he repeated, his tone losing its edge. “If I were anywhere else, I wouldn't think a thing about it, other than to note that I can't help. But among our own people, it's different. For perhaps the first time, I can really, actually, understand how men in some of the other nations I've been in felt when they were trying to keep bad things from happening to their people. I always thought I could before, to be honest. That I had enough empathy to understand what they were feeling. What they were going through. I'm realizing now that I didn't.”

  “It's a shock to the system,” Clay agreed. “Seeing here what we saw so much of, elsewhere. And worse, knowing there's not a hell of a lot you can do about it. We've done all we can for those around us, and maybe a little more than we could afford to,” he admitted. “Some of that I argued against, I admit. Even now I still think it was a bad decision. I'm not sorry we did it, I have to also admit. I just think, from the standpoint of our own well-being, it was the wrong move. But ultimately, I'm responsible for well over one hundred people, many of them children. I can't afford to let sentimentality dictate my actions. I have to think of what's best for all of us, not just what I'd really like to see done.” He suddenly seemed to realize how much he was talking and stopped. Straightening, he looked at Adcock.

  “I'll discuss this with the others when we get back,” he promised. “I expect they will want more information, including knowing who you'll expect to put there, before they'll make a decision.”

  “There's no hurry at the moment,” Adcock admitted. “Winter is a ways off, anyway. We'll be moving to see what the situation is in the town the scouts found. Try to investigate and see what happened. It's actually over in Alabama a short way, I think, but jurisdictional lines are a little faded, these days.”

  “Everything is, these days,” Clay agreed. “Everything.”

  “We'll camp here again tonight,” Adcock said as he turned away. “Escort you back first thing in the morning, and then be on our way.”

  -

  The Guard convoy made sure that Clay's trucks got safely back as far as Jake's truck stop the next morning. The soldiers paused to refuel from their tanker truck before they headed south on their next assignment. Having returned Dawson and Draper while the Guard refueled, Clay and the others were headed home before they departed. Adcock made a fast trip into Jordan to talk to Picket during the refueling, probably about basing a squad or so of soldiers in town for the winter. Clay wondered what the answer would be, but didn't dwell on it, nor stop to ask.

  Both Draper and Dawson seemed very pleased with whatever their discussion with Seward had produced, but Clay didn't bother to ask what it was. It didn't concern him, or his people.

  Once the horses were off loaded and cared for, Clay told the others to take the rest of the day off and then headed for his small office. He found Jose Juarez waiting for him on the pad.

  “Have a good trip?” he Jose inquired.

  “In the sense that we didn't have trouble, yeah,” Clay nodded. “We also found that there's a guy that's been trying
to hawk that worthy message in person in Lewiston, though he isn't doing well.”

  “Folks not interested?” Jose asked.

  “Folks beating him senseless,” Clay corrected. “Goes way beyond not interested. At this point, assuming there really is an army of God or whatever, I'd lay wages that the guy is gathering intel for whoever would be responsible for enforcing the worthy edicts, or whatever they call it. It's apparently already happening in other places.” He filled Jose in on the information Adcock had provided the night before.

  “Damn,” Jose was shaking his head slowly by the time Clay finished. “That's worse than the criminal element, really. At least you can get a criminal to see reason, once in a while.”

  “Said the same thing myself, more or less,” Clay agreed. “For the moment it's not an issue for us. That said, it could become one in a relatively short period of time. And with that in mind, we have to consider a request from Adcock's CO.” He laid out everything that the Captain had shared with him. When he was done, he sat back in his chair, studying his friend.

  “What do you think?”

  “I'm automatically inclined to refuse, honestly,” Jose said thoughtfully, staring off into space as he thought the idea through. “We don't really know these people, and there's very little actual trust established between us, for the moment anyway. Adcock talks a good game, but one good meal and a joint exercise in public safety is not nearly enough to establish the kind of trust we need for something like that.” He brought his focus back to Clay.

  “He said Gillis would be in charge?”

  “Actually, he said someone like Gillis,” Clay clarified. “Not the same thing. It could well end up being people we don't know anything about at all, and haven't even met.”

  “If it were Flores, and then either Maxwell or Gleason backing her, I'd be a lot more inclined to consider it,” Jose mused. “Flores is young, but she's smart, too. With Maxwell or Gleason to ride herd on the enlisted, I'd have far fewer doubts about things going well. The thing is, having maybe twenty men in close proximity to some of the people that have been so traumatized by what's happened over the last year... I think it's just asking for trouble. Begging for it, really.”