Original Work The Unwelcome Sign

+1 on withdrawals.

What happened to "fat boy" after he got tied up and loaded into the back of the truck?

Whynot

 

I'm thinking that "fat boy" just might be a weeks supply of dog food…soon!

 

Before Lyle could continue, Jacob and Leslie came back into the room. I'd seen them slip out a few minutes earlier but didn't say anything.
Lyle stopped his narration and I shot them a questioning glance.
“We went to check on Lardo. You sure you want to just leave him tied up in the car?”
“Is he uncomfortable?”“He is, to hear him tell it. And he wanted a drink.”“Did you give him one?”
“No Zed, we didn't give him anything, just made sure he was still tied up good.”
“Well”
“Well?”
“Tied up well. Sorry, the grammar nazi came out.” I smiled at them but they just gave me blank looks that I took to mean that I was spouting dumb adult stuff and that they would suffer in silence.
“He's not on his belly, is he?”
“No, on his side.”“Good. Check on him every ten or fifteen minutes. Don't let him lay on his stomach. Get us if you need him moved. We'll have to put him somewhere else before too long.”
I answered the question they were dying to ask, but wouldn't. “Positional asphixia”I knew that would go over their head. Before I could fill them in, Denise took over.
“If a heavy person is placed face down, laying on their stomach, their belly will be pushed up against their diaphram, making it difficult to breath. The diaphram isn't strong enough to push up against all that weight and they slowly suffocate themselves. We saw it a few times in the ER, when cops arrested heavy suspects and put them in the back of their cars face down. Drugs were usually involved too.”
“So let's not let that happen. Cool?”
They both nodded and found seats where they could listen to Lyle's story.
“As I was saying...” Lyle gave the two youngsters what was supposed to be a withering look for being so rudely interrupted. However, he'd known Leslie for years from training on the range, so his attempt at intimidation was seen for what it was and failed, with both of them lapsing into silly grins.
The grin slid from his face as Lyle came back around to his subject. “So things were getting ridiculous, total chaos, people going nuts, acting like fools. They had no respect for authority. You'd try to stop them from looting and they'd just look at you, daring you. They knew we weren't going to start shooting for looting a store, and there were too many of them for the few of us to try and arrest.
So we gave up. Most of us hunkered down Zone HQ waiting for orders. Some officers went AWOL. We didn't know if they just weren't reporting in, or if they'd been hurt, or worse.”
His voice trailed off for a moment. Lyle took a deep breath and started again. “We were listening to the radio and it was just getting worse and worse. Officers calling 10-43, but there wasn't any back up available. Most of them gave up and pulled back when they realized they were on their own.”
“Most of them?” Leslie asked, wide eyed at the story. Lyle just stared at the floor and shook his head.
“Some of the officers couldn't disengage. They got surrounded, overwhelmed.”
“Oh...” The implications hit Leslie and he realized what Lyle was going through.
“What about the national guard? Why didn't the Governor call them out?”
“Yeah, about that. The Governor's gone. He skipped town with his family and body guards. Took both of DPNR's speed boats and as much stuff as they could cram in them. The National Guard is deployed, but just around key points, mostly on the east end. Looks like the commander doesn't want to over extend his troops.”
“Doesn't hurt him that there aren't any housing communities on the east end.”
My comment caught Lyle's attention. “You ain't lying meh sohn, made his job a whole lot easier. And that's why our commander told us to split. Kirwin Terrace is just by us and more and more people were out there just watching us. They were getting bolder and bolder. You could see they were getting ready to test us, see what our response would be.”
“They were going to attack an armed police building?” Dr. Shoemacher hadn't thought it through.
“Naw, they wouldn't have shot at us, nothing like that. They would have had dozens of women and children come in and overwhelm us. Start taking stuff and running away. What could we do about that? Shoot unarmed kids running away? No man, when the commander saw which was this was going he did the best he could. Have us divvy up what we had on hand and get it out of there.”
“How long ago was that?” I wanted to know. “A week or so ago. I'm losing track.”
“Did you go home? Wish you'd come here earlier.”
“Well we tried.”
“You tried?”“I knew you lived somewhere over here on the northside, but not exactly where. We came over here looking for you and actually found you. You drove by and we turned around and followed you, but you took off. You know you drive like a maniac, right?”
“That was you, that night? Sorry, I didn't recognize the car. What happened to your Jeep?”
“We drove around looking after you lost us, but meen see you nowhere. I lost the Jeep early. I filled it with stuff from the Zone and went home. Dumped it off and then went to go get Jennifer. I'm glad I did because I zigged when I should have zagged and ran into a road block. By the time I saw them it was too late. They shot the heck out of my Jeep.”
He gave me a long look.
"Cat, meen know how I didn't get shot. But I was thanking all the work you had us do around vehicles. I got low and got out, heading for the back of the vehicle. I heard feet pounding the pavement and I dropped to the ground and put rounds under the car at the two guys coming for me. Trust me, meh sohn, you don't want to get shot in the foot or ankle with a .223, nah brother.” He shivered, recalling the sight of shattered little bones. I got away and then made it to Jennifer's on foot. We waited until dark to load her car, and then left just before daylight. We made it back to my house OK. Like I said, we came looking for you early on, because we'd always said I should come here if there was trouble, but I never took it seriously, so didn't think to ask exactly where you lived.”
Juice couldn't take it. He'd been quiet long enough.
He sucked his teeth. Loudly. “Chuppps! Meen know wha kinda po-po you does tink you be, cahn e'en fine a man house, meh sohn.”
Leslie wasn't far behind his dad. “yeah da mohn, wha kina stoopidnes es dat?”

Lyle crossed his arms across his chest and got a hammed up a pouty face, and tried to look angry and hurt. He actually managed to pull it off long enough that Juice and Leslie to feel bad and they started to feel like they had pushed the kidding too far. When Lyle saw their looks change he lost it, blurting out a laugh that caused them a moment's consternation, before they too, where laughing. The tension of Lyle's story, which we could all relate too, was broken and soon all of us were laughing at the silly antics of our resident clowns.

As the laughing subsided and we gathered our breath, I caught Jake's eye and nodded to the door. He nodded in return and left, Leslie right behind. “What can you tell us about Threeballz? You must have dealt with him”
Lyle got serious again, at my question. “He's a real piece of work, that one. Bad dude. He got his start in gambling and soon moved into drugs and then girls. Nothing doesn't happen at Kirwin Terrace that he doesn't have a part of.”
“He from here? What about the Bloods afiliation?”
“Born and raised. But he lived in the states off an on in his teens, as his mother moved to be with various men. That's probably where he got hooked up with the Bloods. We hear about some of representatives from stateside that come down and visit now and then, but we've never got anything on any of them.”

“Nothing there, or lack of trying?”
“Bit of both. You know how the department is.”
I nodded my understanding. “So how much of a threat is Threeballz to us here? We've had several attacks by his people so far. Do we need to worry about more?”
“I'm not going to lie to you Zed, I don't really know. He's hungry and used to getting what he wants, however that needs to happen. He's also great at seizing opportunity. I don't know if he's targeting this area specifically, or you just got lucky, but one way or another, him, or more likely, his guys, will be back.”
The room broke out into mumbling at that as everyone started talking to each other. I let it go a minute until it got too loud. “Ok guys, let's rein it in here.”
The noise subsided and a few seconds later I had everyone's attention again. “Nothing we didn't already know, or suspect. I think it's obvious that we need to keep up the defensive work we've already started.”
“Remember what I told you about being a”
“I know,” I cut off Mr. Johnson, “I'm going to be talking to you all about being more 'strategic', tomorrow or the next day, after we've had a chance to talk to Manmountain out there. I can assure you that I'm tired of being reactive.”“Zed! Zed!” Leslie came running in. “Fatso isn't breathing!”

 

…time to build a big outside fire and cook the fat toad! I'm thinking…dog food is a must! Enjoying the story…and don't pay any attention to me…I'm just kibitzing.

 

So, I went to the 'survival reading room' and noticed all this stories with big read header that says "recommended".
The Unwelcome sign doesn't have one.
What's up with that?

 

It has 31 pages worth of recommended so far. keep writing and we will keep reading.

Whynot

 

Understood. Thanks for the answer.

 

Don't forget to render that lard bottomed toad down for grease to make soap out of…haven't heard of any pigs in the story so gotta go to the next best source…lemme see heah; lard for soap, wheel grease, long pig for dog food, bone meal for the garden…and tan that great big old hide for chair bottoms…no need to waste; did I mention saving the scalp for 'brillo' and sheet? ;-) Loving every word of the story!

 

Most of us ran out to the Jeep to find Jacob standing in the open door closest to fatass' head. Denise got there first and pushed him out of the way and checked for breathing.
“Quick! Get him out of there and on the ground!”
We performed a very credible version of a Chinese Fire Drill as we tried to get his immense girth out of the back seat. Some pushed, some pulled, and then finally, like a cork from a bottle, the last bit of resistance was over come and he landed, non too gently, on the ground.
“Gethimoffgethimoffgethimoff!” Leslie tripped and fell over backwards as we landed our whale, who ended up pinning Leslie's legs beneath his torso.
We rolled Big Fellow off of Leslie's legs, eliciting a sharp shriek of pain, indicating that he'd been hurt.
He'd have to wait.
Denise directed us to get Gigantor on his back, tilted his head back and checked his breathing. She shook her head, as much to herself as to us and started chest compressions.
Juice pushed her out of the way when he saw that her slight build wasn't having much effect on Humungaloid's ribcage. Juice out-massed her by a bit more than two times and had a welder's arms.
“Oneandtwoandthreeandfour.” When got to sixty he paused. Before he could do rescue breathes, Fiona had the CPR mask in place and did the job, sitting back on her haunches after performing two.
Juice got back to work pumping, with Fiona following with the two breaths. Both Fiona and Denise got worried looks when there was no response from the second interation.
Instead of putting his two intertwined hands back on the center of Globbert's chest, he reared back and came back down with the mother of all hammer fists. His ham of a hand made a meaty thunk and yielded immediate results. Fatman's eyes flew open and he gasped a large breath, coughed a couple of times and started breathing.
“Quick! Get him on his side!” Denise took back over, directing us to getting our beached whale into the 'rescue position'.
Leslie moaning brought our attention to him. He was sitting up, back against the rear tire, holding his right knee between his hands. Fiona left Denise to Slobbodon and went to Leslie.
I knew his injury wasn't too bad when I caught him looking down Fiona's shirt. Jake caught the look too, and didn't seem to happy about it. I gave him a good natured elbow in the ribs.
“You can't blame him, they do look pretty nice.”
Jake blushed but wasn't too embarrassed to respond, “they're real firm too!”
“TMI dude, TMI. I'm a married man!”
“Don't worry, I won't tell Sadie.” Jacob gave me a cheeky grin
“After twenty five years you don't think she knows I check out every bod I see? I got in serious trouble for it on our first date.”
“But she married you anyway?”
“Yeah, well, I have a great ass.”
“Talk about too much information!”
Dr Shoemacher joined Fiona in checking Leslie's injury. Nothing was broken, but his knee had been torqued pretty good. They taped up the knee to immobilize it and Juice helped Doc get him to his feet and back inside where he could sit and put his foot up.
“What are we going to do with him, now?” Dupont nodded toward our captive who was sitting, propped up against a tree. I had duct taped his hands in front of him, we couldn't get his arms close enough together behind his back.
I taped each finger to it's mate on the other hand. He'd break his fingers if he struggled too much to get free.
I looked at him thoughfuly. “He may be the answer to my prayers.”
“How so?”
“Sadie and I have been mighty worried about how we were going to feed our pups. Two full grow Dobermans can really put away the chow.”
Blobasaur went nuts, trying to get free, until the 'pop' that we all heard and made us all cringe. He wailed at the pain caused by the finger he just dislocated.
“You can't do that man! You can't feed me to your dogs!”
“Well sure I can son. The only question is whether you are alive or dead when they start.”
“Fuck you! Fuck you, you muddaskunt! You best let me go. When Threeballz finds out about you, you're all dead motherfuckers! Dead! You hear me?!”
I let him rant, while I made a simple noose in a length of paracord. Before he realized what he was doing, I had it around his two index fingers, which were bent unnaturally and so showed which was the dislocated one.
He howled when I snugged it tight. I gave it a little tug and was rewarded with another cry of pain. His breathing was rapid and shallow and sweat broke out on his forehead.
“What a little bitch. It's just a finger.” He started to say something but I showed him that I was about to twitch the cord and he shut up.
“Pain's not as much fun when it's you on the receiving end is it? How much pain did you inflict on the little girl that owned the backpack I found in your car?”
“She's not feeling any pain now, big man. Not when we were through with her. I didn't even know she was dead for a while, she'd stopped making noise for a while and I thought she was finally enjoying it.”
The ringing in my ears grew to the point where I thought my ear drums were going to burst. I didn't know anger could do that to blood pressure. Before it could, Denise stepped past me, smoothly drawing her pistol.
Realization was a bit slow so I couldn't stop her from shooting. I did manage to hit her arm enough to put her bullet just past his ear. The muzzle blast messed up his right eye pretty badly and blood started trickling out of his ear.
Served the bastard right.
I kept the gun deflected while I argued about his value. Putting my mouth next to her ear I told her that she could have him when we were done. That calmed her down and she reholstered her pistol.
Pulling her by her shoulders, I handed her off to Dupont, who overcame his shock at the awful revelation long enough to take charge of her.
I turned back to our prisoner. “I don't think she likes you very much.”
“Bitch tried to OWWW!”
I pulled the cord at 'bitch'. This guy was slow at the conditioned response game. Pavlov's research would have been set way back if he had subjects like this to deal with.
“Listen. I just saved your life. I'll continue to do so, but only as long as you have value to me. Understood?”
He didn't say anything.
“Or I could give you back to the young lady. She's a combat vet and an ER nurse. She's seen plenty of gruesome things so you can imagine what she would like to do to you.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to know about your boss and his set up.”
“He'll kill me!”
“He's not here. We are.” I pointed over my shoulder. “She is. Threeballz isn't your concern right now. Help me, and I'll give you some food, a gun, and a bit of money and send you on your way.”
He looked up sharply at that, hope clear in his expression.
“You'll let me go?”
“Sure. Why not? I don't want you here. Tell me what I want to know and your on your way. Don't, and I give you to her.”
He looked at me, and then at Denise and started talking.

 

Hope will out…the hope of fools. Nothing quite like a fat toad looking for new life and not seeing the hangman by his side…yes, be getting there…and I'm guessing he's related to the three balled toad…let the imagination run wild, the game is delivered.

 

Day 16 – Friday
“Boooom!.....clang”
“3 o'clock, five inches”
I ran the bolt quickly, trying to get it to be an automatic, reflexive action to the rifle firing. I hadn't spent much time with bolt guns in my life, but my work with pump action shotguns translated to some degree.
“Think it was a bad wind call?” Jacob asked from behind the spotting scope. It had once done duty watching bikini clad (or less) girls on passing boats, but was now being used by Jake to call my shots.
I loaded the bipod, pushing the rifle forward against it slightly, trying for the same pressure as on the last shot. “Could be. Wind might have shifted slightly in the draw. Still, five inches at eight hundred yards, ain't half bad. Let's see if we can do better with this one.”
I let my breathing settle and checked my feet. I have a tendency to dig in my toes and push forward a bit on firing. I called it 'pre-ignition push', but a less generous sort might have said I was anticipating the recoil.
I watched my heart beat reflected by the movement in the reticle of the scope. When it got down to the sixty beats per minute range, which was slow enough for me to shoot during my respiratory pauses, I started planning to take the next shot.
“Wind?”
Without taking his eye off the spotting scope he said, “same, five to six knots, half value, left to right. Watch the gusts.”
Jacob's spent much of his life on sailboats, first on his parents' and then in competitions racing Lasers and Hobie Cats. This gave him an an uncanny ability to read the wind. Last night I'd lent him my dog-eared copy of Major John Plaster's “Ultimate Sniper”, hoping to put that ability to use in a different field of endeavor.
Last night, after an initial interview with Kilimanjaro, and with Mr. Johnson ragging on me about being reactive, an idea started to form in my head. Thus the crash course on sniping for Jacob. Or, at least the Spotter portion of the equation.
I was just about to put the final pressure on the trigger when I saw the foliage bend a bit more than normal. I held off while the gust passed and at the next respiratory pause, broke the shot.
I watched the twelve inch steel plate that I'd set up swing from the impact of the bullet, through the rifle's scope. “Clang!” the sound of the hit reached us a moment later.
“One o'clock, one inch. Nice shooting, Zed!” I painted a two inch diameter circle on the target and Jake just told me that my shot was one inch off of it. Slightly high and slightly right.
I opened the bolt that I'd worked after the last shot, even though the magazine was empty, and started picking up the empty brass from the previous shots.
“That's amazing shooting! I had no idea that you could hit something that small from so far away.”
“I'm no precision shooter, but I know how to work a trigger and apply the basics. From what I've read, the trick to long range shooting is accurate range estimation, reading the wind, and consistency.”
I picked up the small notebook from where it laid next to the rifle and added some notes to the ones I'd already put in this morning.
“ There are ballistic charts and I have a ballistic computer on my shot timer, but there is no substitute for actually shooting your rifle and ammo at the actual ranges you expect to shoot at. Especially seeings how we are shooting up hill”
“So? What difference does that make?”
“Plenty. One of the things you need to consider is the angle of the shot, either up or down from your position. It will change your point of impact quite a bit from a horizontal shot.”
“Really? Why?”
“Basically because it's not how far the bullet travels, but how long it is exposed to the Earth's gravity.” I paused to think of how to explain something that I had a tenuous grasp on my own self and was reminded of the saying “Qui docet, discet”
“You taking geometry in school?”
“Last year.”
“Well, think of a right triangle. We're at the base, shooting up along the hypotenuse.”
“Ok...”
“The hypotenuse is the actual distance the bullet travels. But the base of the triangle is the portion of the Earth, and its gravity, that is effecting the bullet, which is a shorter line.”
“So, the bullet would hit like you were shooting at a closer target.”
“Yes, pretty much. I have an imperfect understanding of it, but that's the basic idea.”

We'd set up on the look out spot on the hill between my house and Jacob/s to do our shooting and put the target way up on the hill, at the upper switchback on the road above the first chicane. It occurred to me that someone here, with this rifle, could support the defenders at the upper road block.
We came down off the hill and found the patrol group ready for us. A quick glance at my watch showed that it was 9:00 am, so we were right on time. While Jake and I had been working with the rifle, the rest of the group had been making sure the work details knew what they were supposed to be doing for the day.
I swapped out the model 70 Winchester for my Colt's M4, put on my soft body armor, and slung my pack onto my back. I bounced up and down on my toes a couple of times to settle it in and tightened the straps.
The rest of the group were kitted up and ready to go. Lyle had done pretty well from himself when he took stuff the armory at his command. He had enough plate carriers with rifle rated plates for Juice, Leslie and Jacob. They had them set up, full of spare magazines and med kits. They all had day packs on too, and looking at them, I worried about how they would handle the hike in the heat.
Sadie was outfited almost identically to me, with soft armor and and AR. Fiona was a different matter. She was dressed sensibly, with light but solid hiking boots, Merrils if I didn't miss my guess. Above that cargo shorts and a low cut tank top with a button front shirt open at the front, with the tails tied at her waist. She was showing enough midriff for me to see that she had a belly button piercing.
I nodded at the pack at her feet. “Any first aid items in there?”
“Yes Zed. Besides a gallon of water, I have two bags of saline with starts. I was going to pack more, but I checked and each of you is carrying pretty good trauma gear. I also have sunblock, aloe, baby powder, neosporin, and mole skin.”
She was thinking of common hiking injuries like sunburn, blisters, and chaffing, besides sever trauma. Smart girl.
“I also checked to make sure everyone had a change of socks.” I raised my eyebrow at this unexpected pronouncement.
“Lavelle clued me in.” she explained.
“Cool. Alright guys, drink as much as you can get down you right now and let's hit the road.”

 

All right now…where did you hide/put the fat toad?

 

We stopped at the upper chicane and met with Dupont and Lavell, Work was going apace on the defenses, and the two of them pointed out some of the new things they though up.
“You mentioned being able to come up with a surprise for anyone using that big rock as cover” Lavell reminded me.
“Yeah, I have a couple of things in mind. Speaking of which, go through any first aid kits you have laying around here and get me the cold packs out of them.”
“What do you want them for?”
“Ever hear of tannerite?”
“Sure, I've watched plenty of youtube videos of guys shooting it. Looks like fun.”
“I think we can fabricate it. If we can, think you could use it?” I grinned at him.
“Hell yes!”
“I have a couple of other things in mind, I'll work on them when I get a moment.”
“Don't wait too long, we don't know when the next attack will be.”
“I hear ya. You going to check on Manmamoth later?”
“Yeah, we'll look in on him while you're gone. Alright if I question him?”
“Sure. Anything you can get out of him is a bonus. He talked to me quite a bit last night. I'll go over it all with you tonight.”
“Be safe out there.”
“We will. Back soon. We'll stay in comms as much as we can. We should be back around four or five. If we're not back by five, talk with Stan about what you want to do. Wilford and Daniels can send the drone looking for us if needed.”
We finished climbing up to the main road and once on the level we stopped and took turns readjusting our loads and making sure boots were snug. It was eerie walking on the road, for a number of reasons.
While I've driven this way a thousand times, I'd never walked it, not once. You get a different perspective on foot, at a walking pace, than you do, isolated in your car, moving at speed. I was hoping moving slower and being exposed would let us become aware of trouble before it found us.
I took lead to set the pace, trying for an easy two and a half miles per hour. Something we should all be able to keep up for the duration of the trip. I looked back to check the group and make sure they were doing as they should. Sadie was three yards back.
“Nice day for a walk”
“Sure is. And I'm really enjoying the scenery.” She made it obvious that was looking at my butt.
“Stop that!” I pretended to be outraged “I'm going to have to file a complaint of harassment.”
“You just said ass.” she did a credible imitation of a Beavis laugh. Leslie, right behind her joined in.
I chose to drop it and looked at the rest of the group. They were maintaining pretty good separation, except for Fiona. Juice was fourth in line behind his son, and Jacob was ten feet or so beyond him. Fiona was walking next to Jake, talking to him. A proper distance back from them was Lyle who was spending half of his time walking backwards, checking six.
Lyle frowned at Fiona and I started regretting letting her come along. Nothing to now but be a leader.
I waved Jacob forward and he jogged to the front of the line. He actually looked relieved to be away from the talking, knowing it was interfering, but not confident enough to tell her to stop. It was easier if I was the bad guy.
“Yeah Zed?”
“Take point, you have better eyes and ears than I do. Stop us as soon as you hear or see ANYTHING. Cool?”
“Cool” A fist bump took the place of a salute. I stopped walking and he kept going, AK at the ready, head on a slow swivel. I let everyone else walk by me and took the rear to spell Lyle for a while.
We were making good time, walking on the smooth surface of the road. I noticed, here and there an intrepid weed growing up through a crack in the pavement, and wondered if the road would become so disused that Mother Nature would start to reclaim her lost ground.
We passed a few houses but saw no people. In the distance we could smell fires, the good, clean, wholesome smell of a wood fueled cooking fire. Occasionally we would hear, some ways away, chopping or hammering.
I didn't know if the people in the houses close to the road were just hiding out, afraid of the armed group, or if they had moved from such exposed places. I didn't want to think of the other reasons that these houses might be vacant.
We'd walked a little over half of the three or so miles to where the Frenchies had their road block. I switched with Lyle and he took the tail end charlie position while I picked up my pace and walked up to the front of the line. While everyone was still moving well, they were all perspiring pretty heavily.
“I've got point, just fall in behind me.” Jacob just nodded and did as I asked. I was looking for something in particular that I thought was in this area. Another hundred yards up the road I found it.
The gut started up the hill to our right, passed under the road and continued downhill to the left. I lead the group off the road on the uphill side. Guts, being frequently deluged by run off, tend to be free from undergrowth and strewn with boulders. We'd be able to see some distance and have big rocks for cover.
I lead us up the gut about seventy five yards, beyond causal observation from the road.
“Ok, take five. Juice, keep watch for a couple of minutes then I'll spell you.”
Juice looked around for a moment and settled on a spot that would give him a good view of the road, with a couple of boulders for cover. He dropped his pack and kept his rifle in his shoulder.
“Powder?” Fiona held the bottle of Johnson's baby powder in front of my face. “it'll feel good on your feet. You aren't getting any blisters, are you?”
“Don't think so, but the powder's a good idea.”
I set my pack down and pushed the M4 around to my left so I could get to my feet. The air felt great on my feet. I could see where my calves were swelling slightly and the boots were preventing it from going further down. Gravity's a bitch.
I took the proffered bottle and sprayed some in each boot, each sock and some directly on my feet. Putting my socks and boots back on, my feet felt much refreshed.
I stood and turned away from Fiona, unbuckling my pants. I dropped them far enough to spray some powder in the crotch. I was expecting a comment, but Fiona didn't say a word, taking the powder back from me and going to the next person with it.
“Car!” Juice warned in a loud whisper. We all froze and then quickly slid behind the nearest rock. We watched the road and seconds later three black SUVs drove by, heading in the direction we'd just come from.
Waiting a half minute, nothing else happened. We were far enough off the road that I wasn't worried about them seeing us. They were moving too fast.
Lyle said it first. “Looks like the Governor's vehicles”
“Wonder where they're going?” Sadie pondered.
“I don't know, but I can't say's I like it. I don't get a warm and fuzzy feeling about them being out here. Let's move out, but we need to listen close in case they return. As with any vehicles, as soon as we hear them, get off the road as quick as you can. Uphill side if possible. Being still is more important that being entirely out of sight and don't stare at them as they pass.”
“Why not?” Fiona questioned.
“People can feel when they're being stared at.
“You've never had a creeper staring at you? You get shivers out of nowhere and you look around and there he is?” Sadie added.
Fiona nodded and shrugged her shoulders in acceptance. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I've been on the receiving side, never thought about being the one doing the staring.”
We cautiously made our way to the road and warily stepped onto its surface, straining our hearing. I had Jacob take point again, and stayed in the rear with Lyle, taking turns walking backwards, mouths to aid our ears. After a quarter mile we started to relax, at least as much as we were before seeing the SUVs.
I was wondering what it meant that they were up on the Northside of the island, something I'd never seen before. My mind wondered as I considered the possibilities. Despite all the various scenarios my imagination came up with, it kept coming back around to Carol's ties to Government House and the hoard of food she'd got from them. I sincerely hoped that I was wrong.
I snapped out of my worrisome reverie as we neared the intersection called “Four Corners”. I stopped the group before the final turn that would have put us in sight of it, and lead them off road to a small clearing.
“Four Corners is a natural control point, so we need to proceed carefully. I'll take Jacob and scout ahead. Wait here, shouldn't be more than ten minutes.”
We left our packs with them to make it easier to move through the bush. We paralleled the road, about five to ten yards in, taking it slow, carefully playing limbo to get around brush, rather than move them out of the way which is more likely to catch a watcher's eye.
Sweat ran down my forehead, stinging my eyes. I blinked to clear them, not wiping them with my bandana, much as I wanted to. While harder because of the bush, the distance traveled was shorter as we 'cut the corner' of the curve that hid the group from sight of the intersection.
I could start to see the intersection through the branches and slowed, and stopped, and moved very deliberately, crouching behind a large mahogonay tree that had blown down in one hurricane or the other.
Compact binoculars came out of the pack and I checked the position of the sun to make sure they wouldn't send a reflection that might give us away. I used the brim of my hat to shade them anyway, being a belt and suspenders kinda guy.
There was indeed a road block, or should I say four of them, one for each road. This was a big operation and was well staffed. I started counting and came up with twelve people, all but two of them men. While there was scattered camouflage, most were wearing regular clothes and they were armed with a wide variety of weapons, from Mini-14s, to bolt action rifles, and a mix of shotguns.
I studied faces and thought I recognized a couple of Frenchies that I was aquainted with. I watched and read body language to gauge their mood. They weren't relaxed, as you might be after standing guard duty on a boring post, but instead were a bit agitated with a fair amount of serious talking between each other. Considering that the black SUVs had come from this direction, they must have dealt with these people. Acutally, these guys would have had to let them through.
I got the impression they weren't entirely thrilled about it. But then, maybe I was reading too much into a situation I didn't really know anything about.
Too much time spent people watching and making up stories for the people I was studying.
Sweeping the binoculars to the right I saw three people having an animated conversation. One of them was tall and had his long red hair in a tight braid all the way down his back.
“Wait for me. I'll signal if it's cool to come out. If it goes loud, go back to the group and let them know what you've seen. Tell it to Lyle and Sadie in particular.”
I didn't wait for an answer but rose slowly and tried to melt my way out of the bush. I was standing on the road surface, fifty yards away before anyone saw me.
My rifle hung from its sling and my hands were at my sides. My sudden appearance was the cause of some consternation, but I just stood still and waited.
The redhead turned at the commotion and saw me as its source. Guns were starting to come up, but not all the way, as they weren't sure of what to make of the guy standing in the road.
Knowing I had his attention, I slowly took my hat off with my right hand and scratched my head with my left.

 

Ah, the 'social' encounter, bon, bon mon amie'

I smell a trade coming…fat toad to the new folks who are hunting him and his crew for depredations upon their community…and the rape of that little girl…perhaps some milk goats for the soon to be 'Frenched!' toad…with maybe a return trade with some soap and grease from the 'friendly' rendition…be thinking here…exciting story, and when will the gasoline ever run out(?).

 

Hmmm I'm wondering if the Island's Governor will meet a .45LC Governor or Judge?

 

A large smile spread across George's face and he headed towards me. I met him half way and we shook and did the chest bump/hug that is become the hip, main stream way of men to greet each other.
I've adapted and adopted, but still miss a simple handshake.
“Zed! Good to see you! Everything safe?”
“You too, George, you too! Hey, I've got some people with me, can I invite them over?”
“Your people? Yeah man, of course.”
I turned towards the bush and shouted for Jacob to go back and bring the rest of the crew up via the road. George and made small talk while we waited for the rest of my people to join us. When they did, we took a few minutes making introductions, although many of the Frenchies, who were fishermen, knew Juice, from working on their boats. He was universally well liked, so the camaraderie and good cheer lasted a few minutes.
Meantime, George and I wondered over to the side to talk. Of course I had something on my mind.
“Did three black SUVs come through here a short while ago?”
George got a sour look on his face. “Yup. Bastards. Government goons throwing their weight around. Two cars stayed back and a bunch of heavily armed guys came out and aimed their guns at us. The one if front pulled up and a couple more guys came out with their guns.”
“Military or police?”
“Oh, police. I recognized a couple of them, even though they were wearing masks and helmets. You can't hide how you walk. They told us to drop our guns.”
“Did you?”
“Hell no. We weren't ever pointing them, but we weren't putting them down neither. They looked in the front vehicle and told us again, but we still didn't. I guess they didn't want to press it, they kind of shrugged and looked back in the car. After a few seconds that fellow Grey got out of the back.”
“Jean Grey? The governor's spokesman?”
“Same one. He was acting all in charge.”
“Yeah, that's Grey alright. Loud mouth, in charge kinda guy.”
“And you can't tell him nothing.”
“I know. I had him as a student way back. He wouldn't listen to a thing I said. Damned if he wasn't an awful shot.”
“Probably just as well.”
“Probably. So, what'd he want?”
“He was asking a whole bunch of questions. How many people were here and what we were doing for food, and if our guns were registered. He tried to tell us that there was martial law and we needed to turn in our guns, but he wasn't very convincing, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, not while he was around anyway. He might get hurt if someone objects. Did he say anything except asking questions?”
“He wasn't giving anything away. We asked what was going on, he didn't know. We asked who was in charge. He said the government was still running things.”
“Funny, I heard the Governor ran away.”
“Yeah, we heard that too. Got in the DPNR boats and took off.”
“Same story I got from two different sources. I heard that Grey is running things, at least as much as he can.”
George turned his head and spit. “Monkey trying to grab all ah deh banana dem”
I laughed at his switch in dialect. “I also heard the National Guard has shut off the east end of the island and is consolidating power there.”
“That's true. We lost a boat to them. One of our fishermen pulled up to the Red Hook dock to see what was happening and to see if he could sell his catch. He had some restaurants as customers from way back. Army guys met him and impounded his catch and his boat. Drove him to just past the armory where they have a road block and let him go. He had to walk home from there.”
“He's lucky he made it.”
“Lucky? He was so angry no one would mess with him.”
I changed the subject. “You having any problems with gangs?”
“Not too much lately. A little early on. We found a few groups had put together their own road blocks and we combined, here at Four Corners.”
“So the people here are from different groups?”
“Well, different neighborhoods. We discovered we were all doing the same thing and figured doing it in one spot made more sense.”
“This intersection controls a major ingress to the northside.” I agreed. “Anybody doing anything at the east side? Say at Mafolie, or the other end of St Peter Mountain road?”
“That's why we're not having any trouble anymore, we got that end blocked off too.”
“Armed about the same, are they?”
“Had to make do with what we already had.” He looked me and my people over. “You guys seem to be doing OK.”
“We've had some luck picking stuff up after battles. It looks like the gang members have government weapons. I'm not sure how they got them.'
George's face clouded up. “How we going to fight against that?”
We're going to have to work together. I'll see what we can do to help. You're defenses can be improved dramatically, and we might be able to free up some weapons for you.”
“Not sure what how we could pay for that.” I knew he would be too proud to take a handout.
“Having you guys here is a big plus for us. It's good having solid security here. It's in our best interest that it is a strong as possible. Besides that, I'm sure you've got some stuff we might be interested in trading for.” I shot him a grin and slapped his upper arm companionably.
We moved back over to the main group of people. While George and I had been talking, I'd watched Leslie using a sling shot to get a line into a tree. Juice attached a J-pole antenna and hoisted it aloft and connected it to his handheld marine radio.
“Base this is Alpha, do you read?” Juice repeated himself once more before he got a response.
“This is Base, Alpha, we've got good copy. Status?”
“We're at our destination, everything if fine.”
I walked closer and held out my hand. Juice gave me the unit.
“Base, this is Alpha actual. Have you had any visitors?”
“No, not that I'm aware of. Trouble?”
“There are three black SUVs running around the northside. Mr. Grey and some government enforcement people, probably cops and/or governor's security detail”
“How should we handle?”
“Cautiously. Warn Ess and have him tell Dee and Ell.” I was kicking myself that we hadn't worked out handles for Stan, Dupont, and Lavell. “It'll be their call as to how they handle things.”
“Roger that. I'll tell them”
“Grey is asking questions about population and food. They should be ready for that.”
“Understood.”
“Actual out.” I handed the unit back to Juice who signed off and set the radio down. I turned back to my people. “We should probably head home. I'm worried about Grey.” I turned to George. “We're having a bit of a shin dig tomorrow afternoon. Why don't you stop by, we can talk more about this, and If you can rustle up some tuna or mahi, I might have a gun or two to trade you.”
“Deal! Can I bring some people?”
“Sure. I didn't expect you to travel by yourself.”
“How do we find you?”
“Head out west on King's Mountain road. I'll have someone out looking for you. Around noon?”
“Done. See you then.”
We said hasty good byes to those we'd just met, while Juice put away his equipment.
Shouldering packs and tightening them down, we left the road blocks. I took lead and set a bit faster pace than the one we took coming in, anxious to get home.

 

Home again, home again, higgedy jig…it's time to question the big fat pig…!

 

Great story @Zengunfighter, thank you!

 

Thanks!!! I'm luvin' each chapter you post... Keep on keepin' on!!!