Original Work The Unwelcome Sign

Yeah, ya got me hooked…do love a good story, I do! It's fun to anticipate and make guesses…comments, etc. Please do keep it up. (Isn't it about time for them to hear 'some' news from the mainland…or is the news silence?)

 

We made it back in good time, although tired and soaked in sweat. We didn't take any breaks on the way back, drinking water as we walked. No one complained, I think they all felt my sense of unease and wanted to get back as much as I did
.
We dropped down off of King's Mountain road into our road and made our way down the hill. We came around the turn that exposed us to the upper chicane and stopped so they had a chance to register us and check us out. I did the hat off, head scratch thing and a moment later a person behind one of the cars stood and waved us forward.
Frantically.
We jogged up to the roadblock, the best speed we could manage.
“What's up?” knowing what the answer would be.
“Zed, three SUVs came in here, full of cops and a guy from the government. He demanded to be let through. They out gunned us and were officials, so we let them.” He looked at me, worried that he'd done the wrong thing. I set his mind at ease.
“It's cool. You did the only thing you could. How long ago did they enter?”
“About forty five minutes or so. Not quite an hour.”
“Shit. We'll let's go see what they want.” We started walking again. The guard called after me and I stopped, turning towards him.
“Um Zed?”
“Yeah?”
“They were asking about Carol.”

 

I smell snake sheet…John the 'cop' been trying to take charge using the dead traitor…maybe time to seize some newer SUV's and sheet.

 

“May I have the radio?”
Juice dug into a pouch and handed it over.
“Base this is Alpha Actual. Sit rep.”
Daniels came back, “Alpha, I sent double U up to Ell and Dee to let them know what to expect, right after you called. I haven't heard anything back yet. Over.”
“Roger that. Actual out” I handed the radio back to Juice.
“Well, that was helpful.”
“Funny we didn't see Lavell, Dupont, or for that matter, Daniels, up top.” Juice verbalized my thoughts.
We were still a few hundred yards out when we heard the shots. An eight or nine round burst from a subgun. It stopped us in our tracks.
“Jake, Leslie, Sadie! Split off and head around the side road. That sounded like it came from Carol's house. Come up behind the house across the street from her's.”
Sadie started to say something but I cut her off. “I know you want to come with me. This might be about you. I'd rather that you were backing me up, than being the focus of attention. Now go!”
We gave them thirty seconds head start, thirty long seconds that was hard to bear, just standing there, while we didn't know what was going on. There had been no further shots.
I didn't know if that was a good thing or not.
The three of us set off directly towards the sound of the shots. Juice and Lyle were strung out behind me. We stayed to the edge of the road as much as we could. Turning the corner to Carol's street, I could see the SUVs parked in front.
“Lyle, stick close to me, Juice hang back ten or fifteen yards.”
Lyle was tight lipped and looking grim. He was looking at the same thing as me; two groups facing each other, half of them well armed police suited up like SWAT. I didn't envy Lyle, who worked with these people and would have to make decisions as to where his loyalty lay.
I wasn't too worried about it, knowing him as I did, but felt bad, because I very deliberately choose him to be with me, for the fact that he was a police officer and had worked with these people. I was hoping it would give me and edge, and they might hesitate because of it.
Getting closer, I could start to read the body language. The two groups formed two semi-circles, separated by just a few yards. They were obviously keyed up, weapons in the ready. Two men stood in the center, one in civilian garb, the other it full battle rattle.
On the ground in front of them lay the body of Detective Johns. The stunned silence of his shooting was wearing off and words were being exchanged. I couldn't make out what was being said, but I could figure it out. The situation was winding up again and guns were starting to come up.
“Yo!” A short, sharp greeting to interrupt everyone's OODA loop. Everyone turned at the sound of my voice, and guns lowered perceptibly. They watched as Lyle and I covered that last few yards separating us.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” My greeting went over like a lead balloon. Dupont and Lavell stood on the other side of Johns' body, Dupont looking a little sick, Lavell's expression unreadable. I made a note to not play poker against him. And reminded myself that he was a combat vet. A couple of other of our neighbors flanked them, half of them armed. But not as well as the officers on the other side.
“What are you doing here, Zed?” Grey asked.
“I live in the neighborhood. Who shot Johns? And Why?”
Grey seemed reluctant to answer, and didn't seem that happy to see me. The large man next to him took half a step forward. “I did. He wasn't cooperating.”
“We're shooting people for not cooperating?” I looked at Grey, who wouldn't hold my gaze.
“Things are different now.” I turned my attention back to the shooter. He was tall, and his dredlocks were incongruous to the SWAT outfit. “The Governor has declared marshall law” I could here the mistake in his pronunciation and filed the data point. “You all are going to have to turn your guns over to us.”
I let that last go for the moment. “The Governor left the island.”
“He left me in charge” Grey proclaimed.
“You aren't anywhere in the list of succession, so how do you figure you're 'in charge?”
The big guy took another step closer, taking the beginning steps in the monkey dance of ritualize combat, trying to intimidate me. I didn't recognize him, and I knew most cops, if only by sight. I was starting to get a clue as to who this guy was.
“We say he's in charge, that's all you need to know.” I played a delicate game here, balancing between not backing down like a little bitch, but not being aggressive enough to push the monkey dance any further.
Grey took over. “We have some questions. We gave Carol food for safe keeping. We need it back to distribute to the people.”
“I thought it was for her to distribute to her neighborhood. That's what she told us.”
“Not anymore. Like I said, things are different now.” Big man responded.
Time for another shot at the OODA loop. “I don't recognize you. Been with the PD long?”
The pause was very brief, but noticeable. This man wasn't use to having his authority questioned. Despite the costume, I was getting the impression he was in charge and Grey was just a figurehead. A puppet. A quisling.
“The government needed volunteers when the trouble happened. A lot of police deserted their posts.” It came out of Grey as a wheedling whine. Poor bastard was looking for justification.
Standing in the hot sun, we were all perspiring. Heat is one of the triggers of aggression, and I knew it was building. I would have liked to get us all into the shade, but didn't know how to pull that off. Big man pulled a red handkerchief from a pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow, giving me the last clue I needed.
Before I could figure out what to do with the information, Grey cut back in, trying to reestablish his importance. “Do you know where Carol is?”
“Johns wouldn't tell you?”
“He didn't tell us anything. He told us we should leave.”
“Really? Huh.” I scanned the area, just keeping up on the situational awareness, realizing I was pretty well focused on the confrontation, and wanting an update. I noticed a group heading towards us. Stan and Denise were in the lead, Wilford's lever action was noticeable on his shoulder. Several other people were behind them. My quick scan showed that the government people had noticed this group approaching also, and their nervousness was obvious in their quick glances and shifting of weight from foot to foot.
I turned my attention back to Grey, ignoring Big man.
“So John's didn't say anything. What did you want to know?”
“Where's Carol? She was my, the Government's representative for food distribution in the area.”
The last conversation I had with Johns came back to me. “Speaking of where people are, do you know where Mrs. Quinn is?”
“Why would I know that?” The answer came to quick and his cheeks reddened. Him I'd play poker with.
“Last place she was seen was Government House. Thought you might have seen her.”
“No, no, she never came to Government House. Don't know where you got that information.” So now he was lying to me. He didn't need to. She wasn't killed there, as far as I knew, her death was committed by criminals. So why did he feel he had to lie?”
Big man was getting impatient. “Just tell us where Carol is. You don't want me to think you're not cooperating, do you?”
I stared at him for a moment, just to the point where it was uncomfortable. “My wife killed her after she threatened my life.”
He hadn't expected that answer, that much was evident in his long pause to think it through. Not so much that she was dead, but that I so nonchalantly admitted how it happened. Grey, used to being in front of reporter's microphones, was faster on his feet.
“Your wife killed Carol? Where is she? She's under arrest!”
“No she's not.” Staring him down was child's play. Stan's group had joined us, off to the side. I didn't know if it was planned or not, but they spread out and found places of cover.
“Fuck that white bitch! Where's the food?” Big man showed what they were really interested in.
“Don't know. Johns took charge of it after Carol's death. And we can't ask him.”
“You trying to be funny?” Big man leaned forward trying at menacing. He was pretty good at it. I'd guessed he'd had plenty of practice.
“Just stating the facts.”
“This is Carol's house. We'll just go in and look.”
“No.”
“What?!”
“No.”
Grey, seeing where this was going, and standing in the middle of the killing ground, tried to be reasonable. “It's the government's food. We need it to help people.”
“No.”
“You're refusing to give us the food?”
“I don't know where the food is. I don't care. But you can't come in here and gun down our neighbors and do whatever you please. No.”
“Who's going to stop us?”
“Really? We going to play this game? Look around. You've seen the defenses.” I looked at the other officers, one by one. “You know who I am, and what I do.”
Some of them looked at each other and I saw more than one almost imperceptible nod. “You start anything, you're not getting out of here. That the way you want to play it?” I worked hard at a neutral look, as if I was unconcerned. I was still working on my understanding of Shinigurai.
There was more shuffling of feet and looking from one to the other.
If it had just been Grey and the regular officers they wouldn't have been leaving by now. But getting Big man to back down was another thing. It just wasn't in him. I was contemplating the fallout of me shooting him, and whether I could even pull it off, when the decision was taken out of my hands.
A blur passed by Big Man's ear, close enough he could feel it passing, and then the arrow thunked into Carol's front door, quivering slightly.
Big man's eyes widened and he looked wildly over his shoulder but couldn't see where the arrow came from. Sometimes it takes something unussual to break the train. So unexpected as to be hard to process. He took a step back from me, quartering towards where the arrow originated. He followed it up with another one.
I stood my ground, not wanting to break the mood of the moment, or give him something else to focus on. His eyes went back to the arrow. He looked at me and I knew he realized the arrow was meant to miss.
If Jake had fired his AK, it would have resulted in a mass of contagious fire. The arrow was just the thing to get inside everyone's OODA loop. The archaic nature, the very visible reminder of silent death from a distance, took over everyone's imagination.
“Y'all should probably leave now.” I gave a gentle push. A couple of the police by their cars opened doors and looked to see if it was ok to get in. Grey, spell broken by my words, started walking backwards to the SUVS. Then it was just Big man left staring at first me, then the others. I was proud to see that everyone meet his gaze, not an easy thing to do.
Then he too, moved to the cars. He didn't feel the need to face us, or wanted to convey that he'd dismissed us and was unconcerned, so he turned and walked away from us.
He stood by his open door for one last stare, then got in and they drove off. Lyle took a step closer to me. “You know who that was?”
“Yup. Threeballz.”

 

The Game of... Stones.
Becomes a game of bones,
but skills to gather and are honed,
no one left, with which to phone.

Bullies, gangstas, gubmint gruf,
have their own game, make a big huff,
but good men know, all kinds of stuff,
its in the eyes, you ain't so tough.

 

That was a great chapter @Zengunfighter, you never disappoint!

 

Mystery of the moment…where, I say WHERE…is that fat toad? Probably related to 3balls!

 

I was trying to figure out how he could get freed by Threeballz. It was my intent when I sat down to write this section, but it just didn't happen.

 

You sure don't want to keep him around for a pet…the boy ain't hardly 'house broke' but he could become an abject lesson for 3balls…maybe nut him ouit, blind him and cripple one foot before putting him on the path to 3balls and home…maybe. Or just do the right thing and shoot him, better yet, hit him in the head with a ball pean hammer and save on the ammo…there are dogs to feed…and soap to be made…and his worthless hide would make some fine chair bottoms. (savage you say? nay, it be part of the play…life's play complete with torments and tempest.)

Once 3balls was shamed and then allowed to leave 'peacefully' as it were…there is nothing that can keep him and his kind/ilk from coming back with a vengeance…need to build some 'tank traps' that will disable some or all of his vehicles; indeed, at this point the wise thing to do is put a "price" on his head (literally) because that is what he will do to you. Lovely target rich environment…so many targets, so little time!

 

Goodness Keith...I'm surprised that there's not an iron maiden for the poor chap to play around inside.

 

Perhaps a nice bottomless chair over a giant bamboo sprout…nothing is too 'good' for the toad…iron madden would be a waste of resources…folks gonna be here a while, resources are precious and scarc…though they are a long way from mining rebar out of concrete to make swords, etc.

3balls is full of hate and venom…always a good thing in an enemy that wants to kill you and all the better if he/it is mad as well. (Be proud of your enemy(s), there is nothing half way about them…they intend to destroy you; all of US!)

I'm thinking a shot through the hips for 3balls…one that doesn't kill but cripples him/it for the rest of its already miserable life…and besides folks naturally hate that which they fear maybe make it an accident with one of his own doing the deed! Maybe a well placed shot that blows his balls off, all 3 of them…now, that might just be a bother to him/it.

 

Common…man, I need a fix…I gots me on a jag for this story.

 

“I can't believe they let these guys in here!” Juice vented his anger and frustration and his fear.
“What were they going to do? Two people at the road block against people from the government?” Dupont reasoned.
“I need to talk with my people and debrief them. We need to reevaluate our responses to these sort of things. One problem, they didn't blow the horn. I need to find out why. Dupont and I didn't know these guys were here until they were already at Carol's.”
A cough and a moan broke our attention away from the recriminations that flew in the wake of Grey and Threeballz pulling away. Denise ran to John's side and started checking him. He'd lain so quietly through the whole confrontation we all assumed he was dead. Especially after hearing the burst of submachinegun fire that he'd received.
“Help me get this off!” Denise had cut his shirt away, revealing that John's had been wearing soft body armor under it. Lavell cut the velcro straps and pulled the top panel off. I picked it up and examined it.
It was seriously deformed in several places. Looking more closely I found three .40 bullets imbedded in the Kevlar, starting at about where the liver would be, another over the heart and the third would have impacted a couple of inches above his left nipple. They formed a neat diagonal line stitched across his torso, ending in...
“He took a hit to the clavicle. It's broken. I'm not sure if the subclavian artery has been hit. Doc's going to have to check.”
“Right. Let's get him to HQ.” Lavel took over transport, getting Johns on a poncho with six people grabbing parts of it, they moved off to Jacob's house.
“You going with them?” Jake asked
“In a minute. I want to check something.”
Moving to the front door, movement of the curtain in a window caught my attention. I tried the front door and found it locked. I knocked and waited and received no answer. I knocked again.
“It's Zed! I know you're in there. Open up. It's OK.”
I heard the lock being turned and the door opened a crack. 2 sets of eyes peered at me, one low, one at about my height. “It's OK, really. Please let me in.”
The door opened, revealing a thirty something woman with a small child hanging on to her legs.
“Mrs. Johns?” I made a leap of logic.
No response. She just stared at me.
“Are you Mrs. Johns? Your husband is still alive and is being taken to a doctor.”
That broke the dam. The tears that had been held in check by fear, let loose, preceded by a gasp. I eased past her, into the house, and taking an arm, guided her to a nearby chair and sat her down. The child, a young boy of about three or four, followed and stood in front of his mother. The protective instinct overriding his natural fear.
I let her cry, and when the sobbing showed signs of slowing, I offered her a drink of water from my bottle.
“Will he be alright? I thought they killed him?”
“I don't know. Doc's looking at him now. We have to give him some time and then ask him. Can you tell me what happened? Why you are here in Carol's house?”
“It's that damned food! Could you ever believe that food would cause such trouble?”
“Yes ma'am. I've seen it before. It's a shame isn't it?”
“Johns was trying to figure out what to do about all the food. He didn't know whether to take charge and keep handing it out like Carol, or to give it all away at once. But he felt responsible for it, so he move us in here to guard it. Stubborn man. He wouldn't even let us have any of it. I had to cook from the food we had at home.” She pulled a hanky from a pocket,blew her nose and wiped her eyes.
She took a deep breath that visibly steadied her and she continued. “ Then those men came, saying they were from the government. Johns told me to stay in the house and he would talk to them.”
“What did they want?”
“That Mr. Grey wanted to know where Carol was.”
“What did he tell them?”
“Not much. He said she was dead.”
“Didn't Grey want to know how?”
“Oh sure he did. But Johns just repeated that she was dead.”
I let out the breath I'd been holding and let go of a little shudder that had been trying to break free, wanting to release the built up tension.
She noticed my relief. “Don't worry, Mr. Zed. Johns stuck up for you. He may not have said so, but he thought you were doing right by the community.”
“I wished I'd known.”
“He'd thought maybe he'd gotten off on the wrong foot, and so he just stayed out of the way. That's Johns. He's a good man, but stubborn and quiet, and not prone to dealing with personal problems.”
“What happened next?”
“I felt better when I saw that Mr. Dupont and Lavell and couple others came up and stood alongside Johns, but even I could see they were still outnumbered. Well that's not the right word, is it?” She looked at me.
“Out matched? Out of their league?”
“Yeah, more like that. Those men coming in here with their shiny black SUVs and dressed up like some kind of soldiers with all them big guns. It was very intimidating.”
“It was meant to be, ma'am, it was meant to be. It says a lot about your husband that he stood up to them. Especially before the others arrived and it was just him.”
The pride was evident and she gave a sad half smile. “Sure. But look what it got him.”
“So what happened? What lead to the shooting? If you are up to telling me.”
“There was this big man next to Mr. Grey. You could tell he was getting angry. Impatient. He said he didn't care about Carol, although he used another word for her. He wanted to know where the food was.”
“What did your husband and the others say?”
“The others didn't say anything, they looked at Johns waiting to see what he would say. Johns said that the food belonged to the community and was going to stay here for the people.”
Mrs. Johns started crying again, but kept up her narration. “That's when they shot him. Just like that. 'Braaaaaap!' The big one just brought his gun up and shot Johns like it was nothing. Johns didn't even have a chance to defend himself.”
“I'm so sorry. I feel awful.”
“Wasn't you that shot him.”
The guilt wouldn't let me keep my mouth shut. “Yeah, but it was me that put him in charge of the food. If I hadn't done that, your husband wouldn't have gotten shot.”
She shot me a sharp look, eyes narrowing. I prepared for the recriminations I knew she was going to throw at me.
“Johns was real impressed that you put the food in his care, when you could have kept it for yourself. You didn't shoot him, that big bastard did. Don't you go thinking it's your fault.”
“Yeah, well, I appreciate you saying that, but I still feel bad.”
“If you want to feel bad that my husband's been shot, fine, but don't feel responsible for it. Now, can you take me to see him?”
I walked Mrs. Johns over to Jacob's house. The door to the treatment room was closed and Mr. Charles was sitting on the couch in the living room, feet up on a hassock. Fiona came from the kitchen with a drink for him and tucked a blanket around his legs.
“They kick you out?”
“Yeah, something about getting my lazy ass out of bed and someone else needing it.” His smile turned to a consoling frown, forehead furled as his gaze met Mrs. John's. “I'm terribly sorry about your husband, ma'am.”
“Is there any word?” She looked from Charles to Fiona. It was the later that responded.
“It's early to know for sure. The doctor is in with Denise and they are still examining him and deciding what they need to do.”
“Will he be alright?”
“He was still alive when I was in there a few minutes ago. As long as they are still in there, it means they are still fighting. We'll have a better idea soon. I know it's hard, but just sit tight and you'll get word soon.”
“Can I go in and see him?”
“Honey, that's not a good idea. It's a small room and they are trying to keep things clean to prevent infection. You'd get in the way and possibly contaminate the area. You'll be able to see him soon. I tell you what, why don't you come into the kitchen and help make some tea. I think there might be some cookies in there too.”
Fiona smiled at the little boy, who's expression changed like a switch had been flipped, at the mention of a sweet treat. Who knows how long it had been since he'd last had one.
I watched Fiona lead the two to the kitchen and made my way to the corner of the room that had been set up as a communications area. It was getting pretty crowded, and as I approached I could see that they were gathered around a display screen watching an aerial view from the hexacopter.
“Is that live?”
Wilford turned from the display. “Not quite, but close. Just brought the 'copter back in. I thought we should see what's going on with those government people.”
“Smart. So whatcha see?”
“They took off out of here pretty fast. Like they were pissed. They turned right when they hit King's Mountain road.”
“Hmmm...thankfully the Frenchies won't have to deal with them again. But where are they going? Not back to Government House. Wrong direction.”
“That IS the right direction for Kirwan Terrace.” Lyle offered.
“True. Can't imagine Grey would be thrilled to go there.”
“I wonder who's in charge there? Grey? Threeballz?” Dupont wondered
“That might be in flux, but my money's on our friend with the extra gonad”
“One way to find out.”
I turned to Lyle. “How's that?”
“Ask Fat and Furious”
“Sounds like a plan. We had a pretty good talk last night, but now I have an entirely different set of questions to ask. Any, that's for later. Check the defenses with me?”
“Yessi, mi boi. Lead the way boss.”
“I hope you went easy on the people who were on guard.” Lyle, Juice, Leslie, and Jake had walked up the hill to the first chicane and were sitting in Dupont's back patio, enjoying the cooling breeze coming in off the ocean.
“I was Zed. Walking back up here gave me a chance to think about it. It was a lot to ask two inexperienced people to do.”
“Did you find out why they didn't blow the horn?”
“They were caught off guard. The SUVs didn't know about the road blocks and so came around the turn at full speed and ran right up to the chicane. And the guard recognized them as the Governor's vehicles, so he thought it was OK, that they were good guys, here to help.”
I frowned in thought. Juice picked up the thread. “Most of these people are used to the government helping them in one way or another. Besides the obvious, you know, like calling 911 for help, or pulling over when you see lights in the rear view and hear the siren. You also have the people that work for the government, and those that get government assistance.”
“Exactly. And we are all programmed to submit to the government” I continued the thread, “We know we have to pay taxes and fees, and get permits and licenses.”
“I get it” Lavell ducked and covered his head pretending to sheild himself from our assualt of logic. “Like I said, I went easy on them. Not their fault. But.”
“But, we have a whole in our defenses big enough to drive an SUV through.” I finished for him.
“Three of them” Juice just couldn't help himself.
“The problem wasn't one of physical defenses but of psychology.” I wrested the thread back from Juices' bad joke. “We need to get our people prepped to deal with a wide variety of problems.”
“What we need before that” started Lavell
“is a set of ROEs” finished Lyle.
“Understood. Not only rules for when to engage with force, but how to handle lower level situations.”
“Like what?” Leslie's curisity outweighed his shyness and out paced his own though process. I wasn't going to let that slide.
“You tell me. What other situations might our guards have to deal with?”
“I don't know.” He started off with the typical teenage disclaimer “Uh, maybe somebody looking for someone living here, like a relative?”
“Good. What else?”
Jake wasn't about to be left out and his need for grown ups' aprobation was as strong as any youngsters. “People looking to trade with us. Or who need our services.”
“Yeah, like we probably have the only doctor and nurses in the area.” Leslie piggy backed on Jake's response.
“So should the guards just let those people through? They're not a threat, right?”
You could tell it hadn't occurred to them.
“Well, ummm, what if they were spies?”
“Or saboteurs” Jacob wasn't to be out done.
“So you get my point. Let's brainstorm this tonight and see if we can't come up with some solid guidance for our people”
“Can I ask a stupid question?”
“Do you ever ask any other kind?” I was proud of myself for managing to hit the softball Juice pitched me.
Why are we leaving the chicanes open? When was the last time anyone needed to go through there?”
“Besides the three government SUVs? We went out the last couple of days.”
“But that was just once a day. It's not like it would be a hardship to leave a vehicle in the opening and move it once or twice a day. And I'll bet we use it less and less as we go forward.”
“Point taken. Why don't you bring your truck up here when we get back.”
Juice stage groaned and slumped his shoulders under the burden that I'd just imposed on him. They he brightened, dug in his pocket, pulled out his keys and tossed them to Leslie. “You like to drive boy. Here's your chance.”

 

Unnn….yeah, man! I be getting better already…gimme me more…no….more! O'h…now about that fat toad…be coming around soon with 'words' from the other side? I can't wait…cause he be lying and sheet and stuffffn!

 

I can't wait until they castrate old three ballz...

 

I'm imagining his head on a pole by the front gate…maybe decorate it with some old tin can tops and chicken feathers…n sheet!

 

They be doin' a three ball ballectomy!!!! LOL

 

Still no word from the mainland…imagine that! EMP maybe, silence, no cn, no word broadcast from a satellite or rerun of "The Lucile Ball I Love Lucy Show." Nothing shaking in the sky overhead…no fly over of ET, et al., and sheet.