Original Work The Unwelcome Sign

I be thinkin' de same.

 

I just don't trust Fiona...

 

Maybe Jacob will tone her down; being the young buck that he is and full of piss and vinegar!!!

 

I'm thinking that p & v be not de problems! ;-)

 

When you finally kill that serpent please shoot her in the mouth like Bunchuck did the Cossack officer in Quiet Flows the Don. The image of that backstabber's teeth flying out of her instrument of destruction just has the spray of Justice to it. I like her as much as Doc Holliday liked Johnny Ringo.

 

No, tell us what you really thing…Johnny Ringo? Indeed!

 

Maybe even less.

 

I woke up in a panic, groggy, having overslept, realizing the sun had been up for quite a while. Slowly it seeped into my consciousness that it was OK, that I didn't have somewhere to be or something to do.
It had been a month, so I was out of practice, I'd kinda forgotten what I was supposed to do with a day off. I did have one urgent piece of business so I got up, relieved the pressure, went downstairs, checked on the pups, went back up stairs, climbed back in bed, snuggle up to Sadie, and fell back to sleep.
The first of the day's many visitors showed up at a respectful nine am. It was Denise, come to check on her patient. I went down to the kitchen and made coffee for the girls, giving them some time alone.
The coffee can was almost empty so I went to the pantry to get a fresh can. We had just under two dozen cans left on the shelf. While I put the water on I thought about how long that would last. We were good for a while, but eventually we'd use the last of it. Where would we get more?
Now that we had a chance to breath, we could put more effort to finding out what was going on in the states. Even so, the coffee we were using was from Santo Domingo, several hundred miles to the west. Conceivably we could sail there and trade.
But what did we have that they would want? Dollars probably wasn't an option. As I gathered the coffee mugs, sugar and milk, I thought of all the other things we would be running out of, and potential places we could get them. The powdered milk reminded me that some of the trading could be done locally. I'm sure there were a few cows on island. If somebody hadn't eaten them in a moment of shortsightedness. We needed to look into this.
Ugh! I just couldn't shut down for just one day, could I? I shoved thoughts of the future out of my head, trying to put it into 'day off' mode as I brought the girls their coffee. The exam seemed to be over and they were just chatting, so I set the tray down and let them have some girl time.
I sat on the deck and popped the top on a cold can of Coke and took a long, deep glug. Pure heaven. Like the coffee, we had a bunch of it put aside. And like the coffee, we'd run out eventually. I stopped myself right there, chiding myself for my inability to relax.
I worked on my breathing and concentrating on being in the moment. I enjoyed the gorgeous view for a few minutes and then closed my eyes to remove that sensory distraction. I felt the cool trade winds caress my body, I expanded my consciousness, listening for the sounds around me, the breeze through the leaves, a snatch of a conversation brought to me by a vagary of the environment, monotonous repetitiveness of someone chopping wood.
It worked because I don't know how long I'd been sitting there when Rudi put a cold nose in my hand to gently wake me from my nap. When it didn't have the desired effect, he whined quietly. My baby crying brought me back from the depths of dreamland.
When Rudi saw that he had my attention he took a couple steps towards the driveway, stopped and looked over his shoulder to see if I was following. To see if I was picking up on his attempt to bridge the canine to human communication gap.
Hands on the arms of my chair I leaned forward and levered myself up. Rudi seeing progress ran ahead.
Jacob was approaching the gate. Rudi had timed it perfectly, getting me up in time to reach the gate before Jake had to knock, or call out.
Rudi sat and I gave him some pets. “Good boy! Rudi's such a good boy!”
Rudi quivered almost imperceptibly at the dual doggy goodness of his dad's love and a visitor.
Rudi got his share of attention from his good friend Jacob and sniffed him for news of the neighborhood. Jake had a smile on his face as he stopped and bent over the better to give Rudi his full attention. Loco wasn't to be left out, vying for her share of attention.
“What can I get you? Water? Coffee? Coke?”
“You still have Coke? Is it cold? That answered my question, so I fished one out of the fridge turned cooler and brought it out to him on the balcony. The delight on his face at the first sip was worth the cost of the now precious commodity.
We sat and talked and I couldn't avoid the future anymore. I just tried to keep it in small, manageable, short term chunks. We discussed his employment and what his duties would be. Both his pay and his job description were to remain flexible because things were still in flux. He promised to do his best for me and I reciprocated. We shook to seal the deal, a purely traditional token. We had a bond that only those that have held each others lives in their hands can share. We knew trust wasn't an issue.
“So. What was that yesterday?”
“What was what?”
“That thing with Fiona. She was acting her normal self and then you put her in her place. I wasn't expecting that.”
“Yeah, I don't know. We really do care for each other. It you know, just started out as fun. But it's turned into more than that.”
“I get that. But the way you put her in her place. I wasn't expecting that. And it was she liked it.”
He colored a bit at that. “We were fooling around one afternoon and I got a little rough. She liked it and encouraged it. Turns out that she likes to be dominated.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Her being all bitchy? She's pushing buttons, acting up, daring someone to do something about it. She wants someone to do something about it.”
I shook my head in wonder. “Well, I'm glad you got that figured out.”
“Did hurt that we studied “The Taming of the Shrew” in Ms. Flower's English class last year.”
“Ok Petrucio. So, you sure about this marriage thing? I don't see what the rush is. Seems like you're in for a rough ride with that filly.”
“Aren't those the best?” He gave me a stupid grin. Which I returned.
“Yeah. Well. Anyway, I'll stand up for you, you know that.” I wanted to say more but I'd learned long ago to not try to talk people out of doing something they really want to do. They'll do it anyway and resent you for it. Eventually I'd actually learned to act on that knowledge.
I asked Jake to run a couple of errands and sent him on his way. A quick check on Sadie showed that she was resting again so I left her be.
Back on the balcony, I managed to pickup my nap where I left off.
Mr. Charles showed up an hour or so later. He brought a basket full of produce from his garden. Including some flowers. We hugged and chatted for a few minutes before I took him up to see Sadie, the real reason for his visit. After a couple minutes I could see the conversation was going to revolve around food, especially the status of the crops and plans for the future.
Stuff I had no interest in. I left them to it and puttered around. I worked on my gear which had been pretty well abused for the last couple of days. Guns detail stripped, inspected, cleaned, reassembled, tested and reloaded. I had a bunch of empty mags that needed to be stuffed and my pack was a jumbled mess. I upended it on the floor and started from scratch. The pack had developed a couple of holes that I don't remember inflicting on it.
Those got patched and then the contents got inventoried, cleaned or replaced as necessary. I was just about finished when Rudi let me know we had yet another visitor.
Lavell was my last visitor of the day. He apologized for intruding despite my asking Jacob to send him by. We discussed various security issues and settled on some basics. Our patrols would continue, as would our exchange training program with the Frenchies. The damage to our defenses needed to be repaired and we came up with some ideas for up grades. I delegated Lavell to handle to operation details and we would meet daily to discuss them. Then he came to question I dreaded.
“What are we going to do about the prisoners?”
I didn't say anything.
“We could put them to work.”
“Slave labor?”
Lavell shrugged unconcerned, which struck me as odd considering the history his dark skin spoke of.
“We're feeding them. We might as well get something out of them. Unless you had other plans.” He lifted an eyebrow in implication. I sighed.
“I don't guess letting them go would be a good idea.” I said, rather than asked.
“They know a lot about us now, and what message does it send?”
“Yeah. No, I get it.” I nodded in agreement. “We could hold a trial? Let the community decide their fate.”
“You want to go down that road?”
“No. And not just because of the can of worms it would open regarding governance.”
“No?”
“I'm shuffing off my duty.”
Lavell waited.
“I'm tired of having to do the Hard Thing.”
“I'll do it. Or, I'm sure I can find someone else to do it for you. Happily”
Now it my turn to wait.
“No, huh? You can't do it all, you know.”
“I'm not. I just gave you a bunch of work, didn't I?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. And there are some things you don't lay on someone else. I'll handle it. Give me a day or two. I'm pretty played out, psyche-wise”
“Let me know what you need me to do.”
“I will. Like I said, give me a couple days. I'll figure out how I want to handle it.”
The rest of the afternoon and evening were ours. I got Sadie out of bed and propped up in a chair on the balcony. Some fresh air and watching the sunset would do her some good.
I got the family fed and then it was bed time again. This time we managed to make it all the way through the movie.
The following days followed the pattern set by the first. Plenty of rest, interspersed with visits from various people. I should have expected it, but was still surprised when people stopped by with food. They asked after Miss Sadie's health and thanked us both. I managed to keep my foot on the neck of my embarrassment and receive both food and thanks with grace.
After a couple of days I started getting restless and left the house for short periods of time. Jacob's house was only a couple hundred yards away and I started meeting Lavell and my team leaders there.
On Wednesday Juice came to the HQ with a list in his hand. He had a proud smile on his broad face. “You ready for my report, Oh Glorious Leader?”
I threw and easy to dodge cuff at his head. “Knock off the Glorious Leader stuff, this isn't North Korea.”
“President for life?”
“Do I look Haitian?”
“Umm” he stuggled for a moment then used his fingers to comb his hair forward and to the side, put the tip of his left index finger under his nose and threw his right arm up at an angle, straight. “Furher”
“There'll be a furor if you don't cut it out.”
“Ok Boss.” He grinned his contagious grin that endears him to everyone.
I let out the theatrical sigh of one long suffering and put upon. “Whatcha got for me?” I pointed at the notes. “Who'd you find to write that for you?”
“Yo mama!”
I groaned. I should have seen that one coming a mile away. We found seats and he handed me the paper. It was a very detailed listing of weaponry. I scanned it briefly then looked at him.
“Give me the Cliff notes version.”
“Leslie and I have gone through and done a preliminary check of everything we picked up. We've done cursory function checks and we are pretty confident that what we says works, actually will.”
“Ok” I accepted his caveat. “Give me the numbers.”
“We have a hundred and seventeen long guns. Mostly AR s, but fair number of Aks, a couple more of those UMPs, a couple dozen shotguns, mostly pumps, but a few autos. Benellis.”
I nodded for him to go on.
“A hundred and fifty four pistols. They run the gamut. There is everything in there Lot's of Glocks, but Berettas, Smiths, couple Colts, Rugers, and then the crap, Taurus, Kel-Tec, Lorcin, etc. “
I nodded again, not particularly excited.
“Ammo? That's what we need. We blew through a lot of what we had. And I'd love if our people could get some live fire training in.”
“Going through the bodies netted us some. Each 'banger had a couple hundred rounds on them. So that's around twenty, twenty five thousand rounds right there.”
That made me feel a bit better. “That's a start.”
“I'm glad I asked you to let me go up on the road. That's where the cars were. And that's where the mother lode was.”
I perked up at that. I waved for him to continue.
“Going through the cars we found a bunch more ammo.”
“Got a number for me?”
“How's a hundred for a number?”
I raised an eyebrow and waited.
“Don't like a hundred? What about a thousand? What if the hundred had a thousand behind it?”
“Is this your convoluted way of saying we now have a hundred thousand rounds?”
“Yup!” proud of himself.
“Ok. Cool”
“Cool! That's it? We have a hundred thousand rounds of ammunition and all you can say is “cool”?”
“Oh, I'm glad to have it. But at current numbers, that's only like two thousand rounds per person of those actively involved in our security. I'm glad to have it. No question. But it doesn't give me the buffer I'd really like to have for training. But I'm being ungrateful. Thanks for grabbing all of that. I appreciate it and we are much better off than we were. No question.”
That molified him. Then the grin came back.
“Now what?
“We also found some other stuff”
“Other stuff?”
“A couple of grenade launchers.”
“Seriously?”
His grin slipped just a little. “Yeah, bad news is they are thirty seven milimeter.”
“Police, not military then.”
He nodded.
“Grenades?”
“Some less lethal, a mix of rubber buckshot and bean bag, OC, and smoke.”
“Ok, I'm sure we can use them.” My mind flashed over the various uses we could put those rounds to.”
“Where we keeping all of this?” I was suddenly concerned with pictures of munitions mounded all through Juice's place.
“There's a small house just over there.” he gestured through the wall of the living room of Jacob's house.
“It has a family in it, doesn't it?”
“It does, but I talked to them. There's a larger abandoned house up on Armstrong street. I offered to help them move. There current place is too small for them, it's only three rooms and they are a family of six. Too small for them, but perfect for us.” He started warming to his subject.
“Its got concrete walls, poured, not block! We can turn one room into an armory and the other into something for the guard force. Put in some bunks, some other stuff to make the guards comfortable. It's close to the lower chicane which is a plus.”
“Ok, makes sense, you have my blessing. It's your baby, run with it.”
Juice acted like he'd won a prize rather than a bunch of extra work. Hey, if he was happy, I was happy.
By the end of the week I was taking walks through the entire neighborhood. I received greetings ranging from cordial and polite from the older folks to enthusiastic and excited from the younger generation.
The mood was much lighter than it had been anytime since the start of the trouble. People were out and about, spending all their time in their own neighborhood, with their own neighbors, rather than leaving every morning and coming home again at night, strangers in their own community.
A mood of industriousness was infectious. People were figuring out this new normal and their places with in it. I found myself at the bar and went on in. Dr. Shoemacher sat at a table with Denise. I waved as I crossed the room toward the bar. They waved me over so I changed course.
A waitress quickly appeared to take my order. She brought my coke, can beading with condensation a moment later. I paid her with a couple of my last zeds, still not completely comfortable with the idea of my likeness on currency.
We chatted easily, the conversation light. After a while Doc steered us around to the subject of visiting the farmers on the west end of the island. I agreed that it was a good idea and that I'd arrange for it to happen soon.
I was sure that we had taken a lot of pressure off of them by eliminating the gang threat. But it was only a matter of time before something else came up. They were to valuable a resource to be left alone. I would rather they were allied with us, than someone else, or worse, abused by another group.
We'd have to have a planning session with all the players to go over it. I pictured the island in my mind and the position of the farmers. They were isolated on the west end, only one road in or out. I tried to picture what our help to them would look like. A satellite outpost of our security people to protect them? Patrols extending that far out? Could we, through strategic alliances and growing our community, take over control of this whole section of the island?
I had some ideas, but I needed to get some other heads involved. Sooner rather than later.

 

Thank you Sir...

 

Yessser ree…an all dat sheet…can we please go toad hunting now and mush up some vermin…maybe make 'porters' out of de captives and give them, well some of them, titles like 'boy' and such? Really, whatever past and name they have or had the memory of it must be 'worked' out of them…and the more they handle the dead bodies of their own the better. Slavery is an ok thing if practiced correctly and with decent intent…just don't do what my ancestors did and start breeding them so you have more 'value' in what you own.

 

Meetings became a big part of my life. Oh joy! It started with daily meetings with my team leaders, getting reports on what they were doing and what they should be doing, and grew from there. While food wasn't my department directly, I had to know where we stood. We were moving out of being responsible for feeding everyone, but I still need to have an idea if enough was being produced.
This isn't the way I wanted my life to run so I took a cue from my time in the corporate world. We had a big meeting Sunday night, recapping the the previous week, and deciding what needed to be done and who would do it in the week coming up. I'd meet with the team leader briefly during the week to check on progress and see if there were any problems, any impediments to progress.
This system worked well. Everyone knew what to expect and what was expected of them. Time frames were in place, and checked on frequently enough to keep the procrastinators out of trouble.
The first of these meetings was held the first Sunday after the battle. Life had settled down and we had a chance to breath, a chance to reflect, a chance to look forward. Jacob's living room was packed and we had to cram extra chairs wherever we could.
We started by establishing where we stood. Doc Shoemacher reported on the health of those injured in the battle, and the state of his supplies after treating the casualties. While he wasn't wiped out, it was a concern. I recalled Denise using honey on my wound.
Lavell gave us a run down on the security side of things. Our people were in good spirits and he had new volunteers coming in everyday. Our defenses were fixed up to previous standards. Patrols were going out in both directions. Keeping our relationship with the Frenchies going, and showing the flag and making contacts with people in the areas outside of our neighborhood. Training was continuing, both at home, and with the Frenchies.
Mr. Charles reported on the state of the crops. His own and those on the abandoned farm land. There was some predation, either goats or deer that would have to be addressed. Protein was an issue, but he had some ideas about that.
We heard from Juice how we were doing on weaponry. He repeated what he'd told me earlier, with a bit more detail.
A report on the overall condition of the community came from Mr. Dupont. He repeated and reinforced much of what I'd seen as far as people adjusting to their new situation, the feeling of relief after the battle, and that there was an overall felling of hope.
I gave an overview of the aftermath of the battle. We'd wiped out the gang that had been threatening us directly, the Kirwin Terrace Crips, with very light cost to ourselves. We didn't have exact numbers of enemy dead, between those obliterated by the blasts, and some that might have crawled off the road and died in the bush during the fights on the road, we couldn't know for certain. Best guess was between a hundred and twenty to a hundred and forty. I mentioned that I'd interviewed the prisoners and their information led me to believe that the Kirwin Terrace community was basically unguarded and that their Orland Harris Court allies were hurt. They'd sent fifty of their 'bangers to fight against us.
We knew where we were. Now we had to figure out where we were going. I changed up the order a little bit. Lavell told us of his plans for expanding and reconfiguring our fighting forces. There was some question about incorporating the Frenchie forces into ours, but that brought up questions of command and control. It would be best if it was one unified force, but who would command it? We decided to continue as we were, training them and encouraging them to adopt the same organization as us so that if we needed to work together, we could do so seamlessly.
Dupont headed up the debate about the future of the community. We were in a transitional period. Originally we came together and provided the basics for the community, food and security. Now that people were adapting to their new lives and stability was provided, we had to re-examine our, the 'government's' role in the community. Did it continue to dominate, or did it back off and give more autonomy and authority to the individual. The debate went on for a while and it was no surprise that it was heated to the point of acrimony on occasion. I myself had mixed feelings.
We tabled the discussion for future discourse.
Finally I gave the floor to Doc Shoemacher. I had met with him and a couple other folks earlier in the day. I wanted them all on the same page on this next topic.
He brought up his desire to go to the farmers on the west end to talk to the elders about medicinal plants to supplement his dwindling stocks of medicines. Mr. Charles picked up the thread saying that he would like to compare notes on crops and growing techniques and possibly share or trade seed stock. Mr. Johnson brought up the farmers' desirability and vulnerability to outside groups and we should look into helping them in that regard.
This was an easy sell, helped by the preperation we'd put into it. It was easily decided that we would send a delegation to the farmers for all of the reasons stated. Lyle's team would accompany them for security and to provide me with inteligence on their return.
That decided, I brought up my interview with the prisoners. Kirwin Terrace was basically undefended, with only a handful of 'bangers, those who were unfit for the battle, left to keep an eye on things. I brought to the floor the question of what to do about it.
Some of the questions were should we finish what we started and totally erase any trace of the gang's presence there? If we were going to expand our reach, it made sense strategically. There was the food warehouse. Should we do anything about it? If we controlled it, we controlled the project. This is where the discussion got real heated. The morality of using food for control was argued at length. This was another subject that I had mixed feelings about.
Letting the debate run for a while, I eventually reeled it in. Bottom line, we didn't have enough information to make a good decision. We tasked Lavell to put together a reconnaissance team to gather the intel we needed to know what direction we should take. They'd leave late the next day and be gone for two days. This was a time sensitive matter and we'd probably already waited longer than we should have.
Having hashed over things as much as was productive, I got a motion to adjourn which was quickly seconded.
As the meeting broke up and people started heading for the door, I pulled Virgil aside.
“What's up Zed?” He was tired and worried I'd ask him something that would keep him from going to the home he was ready for.
“Quick question. What time does the tide go out tomorrow?”
The relief was plain. A part of me felt bad, mourning the loss as my status had changed from 'friend' to 'boss'. He didn't pause to give me an answer.
“Ebb will run around two am, then again around one in the afternoon. You have a boat I don't know about?” he asked with a smile, knowing me for the landlubber that I am.
“Nope, sure don't. But thanks, that's what I needed to know.”
The next morning Lavell and I met and interviewed the prisoners one last time. Lavell asked detailed questions about layouts, and who was on guard, and had them draw up maps.
I asked them more strategic questions like how the rest of the housing community felt about the gang, if and how much loyalty they had, how much of it was genuine and how much a matter of going along for survival. It was tricky teasing out useful answers to questions they hadn't considered before.
Motivating them to talk to us hadn't been hard. Their spirit was totally broken by the absolute trouncing they'd taken. These were a group of bullies used to dealing with cowed victims, with the occasional drive by shooting over a turf dispute. They confirmed that my decision to keep the leaders alive during the fight had been correct. A number of times they'd wanted to give and and go home. They argued that they could try another time, and be better prepared.
Shocka put those thoughts down, hard, shooting a couple of the 'bangers to make his point.
Being made to clean up the battlefield completed their breakdown. Picking up pieces of the homeboys you'd hung out with all your life can be demoralizing. We actually treated them with respect and after the beating we'd given them, they didn't know what to think about that.
I guess they figured they didn't have anything to lose, so might as well talk to us. A couple of them just wouldn't shut up. They were like puppies trying to please the big dog. We milked them for all they were worth, Lavell and I taking copious notes that we could go over and compare later.
A glance at my watch told me it was coming up to noon. We wrapped up the our interrogations and rounded up the prisoners. I told them we had a work project for them and loaded them into the back of Juice's pick up truck. Lavell rode shotgun while I made the short drive down to the beach.
We got them unloaded and hobbled arms and legs. They didn't even object at this point. On the eastern part of the beach is a large collection of rocks. I marched them over there and had them pick up as large a rock as they could carry and bring it out into the water. There was a small, narrow channel from the beach to the ocean, and I had them deposit their loads on the edge, building a primitive stone quay.
They wanted to set up a bucket brigade, but I wouldn't let them. As a group they had to get a rock and as a group they had to deposit it. Lavell watched a short distance away while I directed the placement of the rocks.
Thirsty, I pulled a plastic bottle from a cargo pocket. The 'bangers looked at it longingly but didn't say anything. I finished it up and threw the empty bottle in the ocean. It bobbed as waves passed under it, keeping its place relative to the shore.
The work continued, the 'bangers trudging through the sand, wading into the water, placing their rocks, waiting until everyone was done, then going back for another load. They worked their way out, starting in ankle deep water, calf deep water turning moving up to their knees.
I watched as they made their trips, back and forth, reminding myself of who they were, what they'd done in the past. What they were going to do to us. And what they would do in the future. The crimes committed, the pain inflicted. I pictured rapes, and robberies and murders.
Approaching with another load they stumbled out into the water, following the easier footing of the channel, shuffling until they got to the spot where they could place their rocks.
The bottle was gone. Then I saw it, twenty five yards out. Still bobbing as it rode the waves.
I shot the 'banger closest to the shore first. Pivoting at the hips I took the second before he had a chance to react to the first shot. I fluffed the third shot, the 5.56,mm bullet digging a furrow in his scalp above his ear. I continued the pivot, driving the red dot to the next head. Frozen with realization, he presented no challenge and went flaccid as the rifle round took him at the top of his spine. The last 'banger, farthest from the shore, splashed awkwardly, trying to get away. I didn't know where he thought he was going.
He probably didn't know either. I went for the easy solution, three rounds in the center of his slowly receding torso. He flopped face down, bobbing like the bottle.
Swinging back around the third banger had turned to face me, hand to head, in and effort to stem the bleeding. He looked like a calf who'd lost his mother. I tried to picture him raping a child as I shot him in the face.
Frank came to visit, two days after the battle. He was worried about how vulnerable we were. Pointing out that all of our defenses were oriented around the roads, he argued that we could be infiltrated from the bush. I agreed. It was something that had been bothering me too.
When you are doing risk assessments you look at what could happen, what's likely to happen, and what are the consequence of what happens. In security, it helps to think like an attacker. So early on, I asked myself, “if I was attacking the neighborhood, how would I do it?” the answer concerned me, because it involved infiltrating flankers.
But when I looked at it from what was likely, an attack by urbanized gang bangers, I figured, correctly it turned out, that the biggest threat was going to come from the roads.
At the time I only had the resources to deal with one threat vector. Now that was covered, Frank and I set out to work on the others.
An overlook which had a view of the beach below and the surrounding water was identified and we contracted with a man to build a observation post there at the cost of one good pistol and two crappy ones with a box of ammo each.
Lavell worked the new position into his guard rotation.
That left infiltration from the bush. Frank and I spent a few hours each day identifying existing animal trails around the neighborhood and with judicious use of machetes, opened them up to be even easier to travel on.
This might have seemed counter intuitive, why would you make it easier for someone to sneak into your home?
But the reality is these trails would serve to funnel any interlopers, limiting the areas we would have to patrol. Sure, people could avoid them and go through the bush, but that's not the way people work. They pick the easy way. Always. Unless you are dealing with a highly motivated professional force.

When we were done I'd have Lavell incorporate the trails into the patrol rotation. Another upside of the trails is that it gave us the oportunity to use it to move around the neighborhood other than on the road. Might come in handy if we needed to flank and attacker or escape the community if the road was blocked.
A day after I let the tide take our our trash, Frank and I were at HQ getting ready for our day's work on the trails. I'd left Sadie at home with the pups. She was feeling much better and other than some aches and pains, especially when she moved wrong, she was good as new.
One of the Blue team members ran through the door and up to Frank and I. It took him a moment to catch his breath. We waited as patently as we could wondering what had him so excited.
A final breath and he started spitting it out.
“A boat! A boat came in below and landed!”
“Ok, How many people?”
“Two. It was a small boat.”
“Were they armed?”
“All I saw were pistols. But they did have back packs on” he amended. We got a description of the two intruders, where they had landed and which direction they were headed. Frank and I consulted for a moment, deciding which of our trails we should take to head them off.
Decided, we swung our packs on our backs, slung our rifles, ran chamber checks and headed into the bush.
End
Book I
The Unwelcome Sign.

 

Outstanding!

Thank you Zen for a great read.

 

Awesome zen. Thank you! Book 1? That hints that there will be more we still dont know what happened to put them in this situation

 

WOW! Thanks.

 

I could have killed him off, but I think Keith would have missed him.
Besides, I think we'll have use for him in Book II.

 

Lmao book 2 cant wait

 

Shish…my damn pantaloon pockets be wearing thin over d wait n sheet! ;-)

Good tie up Zen…and good lead into the next story…and plenty of room from the mainland and other foreigners…make that furrnrs and sheet!

 

2 with backpack packs are the 2 he got in the beginning

 

Great story. I await Book II.