An Unwelcome Development

Amen! ;-)

 

I don't know...
Catching up, reading the comments, had me on the edge of my seat.
Was my thread going to devolve into internecine warfare?
Or get highjacked by Gilbert's hijinx?
Stay tuned.
Same Zen time, same Zen channel...

 

OH!
By the way!

Gots a little sumtin',sumtin' for y'allz.



The Ford F-350 looked like a late model, not that I've been keeping up on the latest developments in the truck world. It was obviously well cared for, being spotless and gleaming. Alphonso got out, climbing down from his tall perch in the cab. He took a moment to buff out an imaginary dirty spot on the front fender, waiting for me to make the first move.

I walked over and introduced myself to him and told him what I had planned. When he realized that he'd have access to fuel, he was all smiles. We worked out a deal that was mutually beneficial, both of us happy with our bargain. You could tell he loved his rig and had been depressed that both of them had been taken off the road. Now it beckoned again and he was anxious to be off. We loaded up, a combination of work crew and security people. Today we were going to start integrating the people from both our communities. The workers would help Mr. Charles with the garden plot and the security people would be plugged into our teams at home for further training.
On the return trip, Alphonso would bring more people from our community to help out here. They had developed expertise that would be useful. Additionally everyone would benefit from interacting with other, new people. On a number of levels.
There was an air of happy expectancy. Think 'kids going on a field trip'. These people, used to being mobile at a moments notice, had, in the last month, been stuck at home. Cabin fever writ large.
I looked the group over, sitting on the bench seats in the back of the open truck. I was greeted by a few expectant faces, ready to get on with it, but most were lost in the moment, bantering excitedly with their seat mates, happy to be going, doing.

Climbing up and into the passenger seat, I settled my gear, taking time to make sure my rifle and pistol were free, unencumbered in case I needed them quickly. The truck's AC was heaven. Alphonso looked at me. I gave him a nod and we were off.

The ride was uneventful, in that we didn't run into any trouble. We saw some people here and there, in their yards, some working, some, not. A few waved, though many just watched us drive by, the only thing moving was their head as their eyes tracked our progress past their property.
Their property. I wondered how many were renters, and if now, in the new reality, if they didn't actually own their homes and land. Who's to say otherwise? Where were the owners? In the states? Across island?
That thought was cut short as a person ran towards us, waving. I didn't get a 'threat' vibe, but did a three sixty scan anyways. That came up empty, and finished on Alphonso who looked a question at me.
“No, keep going. Just slow a little. But be ready to haul ass if needed.” He nodded and complied while I rolled down my window. As we drew near, the man was by the road, still waving, wanting us to stop. He wasn't frantic, or overly emphatic.
“We'll be back!” I yelled out the open window as we passed. The puzzled person stepped back
and Alphonso put his foot back into the gas. It was a scene that would repeat itself twice more before we finally turned down into our road.
Curious people desperate for word from outside. I wanted to talk to them, to engage them, get them onboard. But first, I need to get my truck load of people delivered and productive.


Lavelle took charge of the security trainees, while Mr. Charles gratefully received the laborers for the community garden. Both of them gave up some of their seasoned, experience people, who got on board the safari for the return trip back to the housing community. They exhibited a mix of excited anticipation, looking forward to getting out of the neighborhood for a while, to see something new, tempered with some trepidation at leaving the relative safety of our homes behind their defensive measures.

Our last stop was at Jacob's house. Doc Shoemacher had given me a list of items to bring back for his new clinic. We also needed to pick up Daniels and his eye in the sky.
I mounted the stairs to the porch and stopped on the second to the last like I'd run into a wall. Mark Shaffley stood in the open doorway, leaning against the jamb.

He managed to keep all but the very slightest bit of a self satisfied smile off his face. Pushing off the frame he stepped toward me, hand out stretched, welcoming smile plastered on his face.
“Zed! I love what you've done here!” He used his left hand to gesture broadly, indicating the neighborhood. I stared at the subgun slung in front of him. One of the HK UMPs that we'd recovered from the 'bangers. “You've really got these people organized and working hard for you.”
There were a few people nearby. They'd stopped what they were doing, interested in the interaction. Here was their leader, meeting someone who'd presented himself as an old friend. A story they had no reason to doubt. They were probably perplexed when I ignored the proffered hand and replied curtly. “They're working hard for themselves, not for me.”

The smile slid slightly, but he shored it back up. “I'm glad to see that you made it through OK. Sadie's alright?” He already knew the answer to that last. It was meant to sound sincerely concerned, ingratiating. I didn't have the time, nor the inclination to play games.
If that's what they were. I started second guessing myself. Maybe he was sincere? Maybe I was letting his previous actions cloud my judgment. Was I being petty? Vindictive? Unfair?
Then I saw the row of scratches on his face. They were fading, but gave my resolve a boost.

“How long you staying?” Trying to convey the idea that he should think about moving on.
“How long is who staying?” Fiona appeared in the open doorway.

Mark and I both shifted our attention to her. I didn't answer. I didn't want to deal with her, didn't want to have to explain myself to her. How she was dressed topped off my disinclination to talk to her. Somewhere there was a set of well used scissors. A pair of jeans had been sacrificed to create a set of booty shorts that not only were highly abbreviated, but also were tight enough that they had to be left unbuttoned, flashing a patch of purple panties.

A tee shirt had met a similar fate, cut so it draped off her breasts, the bottoms of the twin globes barely visible. I might not have liked Fiona very much, but I was surprised at her lack of self respect.
I met her gaze and she grinned, a subtle sly smirk at my inability to hide my own disapproving frown. Turning back to Mark, who obviously liked what he saw, I managed to catch her wink out of the corner of my eye. I reappraised the self respect thing. Fiona was playing to an avid audience. Thoughts of what she hoped to gain followed that train of thought, and I didn't like the direction those tracks were laid.
I was suddenly glad that Jacob wasn't with me.

I'd let the initiative drop. Shaffley was quick to pick it up. “I dunno. I don't have anywhere else to go. I've been helping out 'round here, trying to make myself useful. A productive member of society.” He punctuated the last with a boyish grin at the cliché. Smooth. Well practiced. I'd seen it used before. But it was still effective, and chipped away at my feelings of mistrust, making me second guess them.

“Mark's worked real hard at straightening up and rearranging Jacob's house.” Fiona corrected herself, “Headquarters.” At that, I walked past her, through the doorway she was still standing in, managing to avoid contact with the body parts she put in my path, angry with myself for being so easily manipulated.

Looking around, I saw Daniels in the corner, leaning over the drone on the desk in front of him. A quick glance showed that there had indeed been work done. The place was neat and orderly. The communications area had been expanded slightly, with a number of improvements obvious even by my quick glance. The general impression was of business-like efficiency.

Daniels saw me, smiled wide, (did I note some relief?) and we crossed the distance between us quickly. The bro-hug lasted a bit longer then normal, just long enough for him to whisper, “be careful”. As we separated, I watched his eyes move past my shoulder. Mark and Fiona had entered behind me. It was hard to miss the play on Daniels's face. Concern chased by dislike.

“Isn't it SO much better?” Fiona enthused. She spread her arms and spun around, encompassing everything. My eye followed and I started noticing details.
“What's that?” I was looking at the most obvious change. A platform had been constructed, a sort of dias, eight or ten inches above the normal floor level, on which sat a solid desk and chair.
“A work area for the administrator. I guess that's you. When you're here.” Dig, or threat, I wasn't sure which I was hearing in Mark's voice. He continued, disrupting my thoughts. “I've been using it temporarily. I think you'll like what I've done.” He pointed at a large sheet of paper tacked up on the wall behind the desk. I instantly recognized it as a map of the neighborhood.
A well done piece of work. All the houses were drawn in. I noticed that they were various colors. There was a legend at the bottom, but I was too far away to read it.

“Cool.” I actually thought it was. “Seems like a lot of work and use of resources to make that platform.” I tried to keep that neutral, not accusatory. I think I was successful. Mark's reply led me to think I was. Or he had good control of his emotions.
“Several people thought so too. But it delineates it from the rest of the room, as separate, a different department of your headquarters if you will.”
“Hmmm.” I let that drop. For the moment. “And the map?” Daniels, standing behind the pair, looked at me and minutely shook his head. I didn't get much of a read on that.

“Mark's an incredibly gifted organizer!” A bit much as far as I was concerned, but Shaffley seemed to take Fiona's gushing at face value. “He's gone through the entire neighborhood, talking to everyone, taking notes, and putting it all together here.” She paused for a brief breath, starting again before anyone else could jump in.
“Now he knows, now we know,” she seemed unaware of her slip, “who lives where, how many people in each home, what each person can do, what food or other goods they have.”
I watched Mark for clues, for what wasn't being said. A micro expression of minor annoyance was replaced by a fleeting flicker of worry. He gathered himself.
“Mark's even getting a feeling about how people how things are going, how they..”
“How they are getting along and what we can do to help them.” I don't think Mark's finish to the sentence was the same one that Fiona had in mind.
I looked between them. What was Fiona playing at? One thing she's not, is stupid. On the contrary, she's a clever woman who is socially astute from everything I've seen in the past. So why was she going on and on, telling me things that would make me concerned about Shaffley?

I caught her studying me, the over enthusiastic girl gone, replaced by the coolly calculating chick I was familiar with. Without missing a beat she turned her attention to Shaffley, shooting a hip which giggled her breasts just so. He blinked, his OODA loop momentarily flummoxed. I grabbed at the reins that Fiona had just tossed my way, wondering at the machinations.

“That's going to be useful. No doubt. I'd just be careful to not be too intrusive into people's business.” I tossed Shaffley a softball, wondering if he caught the implied threat.
“Absolutely! No, I was just trying to organize things so the neighborhood can run efficiently. We don't have the resources to waste like we used to.” He said reasonably.
“That's certainly true.” I agreed, not looking at the platform in front of me.

 

Dang…you're finally back…almost dried up my imagination trying to tell a tale based on past events and sheet like dat n stuff. ;-)

Thank you for returning to Zed's story…I've been having fun as a 'sideshow' until you showed back up. And some folks here have been getting a bit pieved about my anxiety over that change purse…;-)

 

great

 

Keith, don't quit on your story just because Zen showed back up...Keep it going; ya got me hooked!!!

 

What am I? Chopped liver?

 

Dang, chopped chicken liver is good with some onion and schmaltz n alls dat sheet & stuff! ;-)

Gotta go, it's time to kill somebody!

 

LOL.. Not chopped liver in the least!!! While you were gone I would check at least twice a day to see if you added more..Keith started his story and I kinda got hooked on it too!!!! Both of you are doing a great job!

 

Keith should start his own thread.

 

He already has!!!

 

Zen inspired me in his absence…Zen b d arteese heah bouts & alls dat sheet n stuff. ;-)

 

Whew...
<big sigh of relief...>

 

Waiting, waiting, waiting…waiting for Zen! ;-)

 

A very loud truck horn interrupted our conversation. Alphonso was getting impatient. Daniels took his que, shouldered first his pack, then his rifle, grabbing the drone last, and was out the door, thankful for the distraction that eased his escape.

This was a very unsettling and unsatisfying place to leave things, but I needed to be off. I watched as Mark picked up his own pack and threw it over one shoulder.
“You're not coming with us.” I hated that it came out partially a question.
“What? Oh. No. I have to get up to the church. I promised Mrs. Smith to help her with a few things. She's glad for a extra pair of hands, seeing her husband is away with you.” There was a subtext there but I couldn't decode it. I stored it for later examination.

Fiona pressed the box of supplies that the Doc wanted into my arms. Her eyes gave away nothing, neutral. There was a slight resistance as I took the weight of the box, her eyes flickering down to the box, then at Shaffley, ending with me, and all of that with no hint of expression.

“He hits her, you know.” I didn't know, but I wasn't surprised at Daniels' pronouncement. “I guess she likes it. She eggs him on, taunting him.” Alphonso stared straight ahead, but I could tell he was listening as hard as he could. He didn't have to work that hard at it, Daniels was sitting between us.
“Is it sexual?” the safari driver fidgeted at my question. Daniels nodded. “Yeah. They try to hide it, well, at least he does. Fiona doesn't seem to mind who's watching. The hitting part anyway. It's like foreplay, you know?” He looked at me to see if I could fathom such an aberration.

I leaned forward so I could see Alphonso past Daniels. “Stop up here.” I pointed and he nodded. I was out before the truck came to a complete stop, sliding down from the high seat, away from the distasteful conversation. I stood at the edge of the road, looking for a a moment, transported back to first one day, then another.

Closing the distance I reached out my hand, tentatively, until I finally made contact the wood warm in the sun. The broken rifle at the top of the Vee was out of my reach, but as my eyes swept it's length a smile broke out at the memory of my proud Buffalo Soldier and his reaction to being given this rifle.
My gaze moved to the broken stock, my memory moved to the scene of his body, clutching the his rifle by the barrel, reduced to using it as a cudgel when, rather than running out of ammo, he ran out of time to reload. He died well, standing his ground, surrounded by a ring of dead enemies.
I sank to my knees and closed my wet eyes. Thoughts, pictures, came to my mind. I looked and let them go, to be replaced by another. The frightened face of a child running for cover, a mother's uncertainty, the burden of her children weighing heavily. Determination keeping panic at bay, knuckles turned white where they grasp a weapon. Tired pride after a hard day's work. An arm around a shoulder in camaraderie born of teamwork. Smiles shared between friends, all the myriad cares momentarily forgotten.
And lastly the hope.
Face after face filled with hope, realizing that there very likely will be a tomorrow.

“Thanks Wilford, I needed that, my brother.” the whisper was barely audible as I opened my eyes and looked at the rifle once more before getting to my feet. During my reverie, Daniels had come up next to me. We shared a sad smile, a handshake sealing an unspoken deal, a hug bridging two humans needing connection.

The rest of the safari bus' passengers had stepped down quietly and joined me, the Vee shaped monument invoking their own reflections.

“Mount up!” I broke the mood, shattering the spell, as we shifted mental gears, our spiritual needs tanked up for the moment.

I kept my promise.
I asked Alphonso to slow down as we neared where we'd seen the man anxious to talk to us. He heard us and repeated his arm flailing antics until he was sure we were stopping. He shot questions at us, not giving us a chance to respond before hitting us with another. “Did we know what happened? Did we know what was going to happen? Who was in charge? Was food and supplies available? What were things like around the island? Around the world?”

I gave him his head and let him gallop. He obviously had that bottled up inside since the beginning and needed to get it out. When he ran out of steam I answered as much as I could, bringing him up to date as I knew it, although there were plenty of holes and I was giving him the Cliff Notes version.

Food was high on his list of concerns. While he wasn't fat, he wasn't showing signs of starvation either. Looking around his house, the mango, papaya, and banana trees were healthy. Turns out that he had been doing pretty well supplementing the fruit from his trees with food he'd put away for hurricane season.
That would only take him so far, and he was worried about what he he would provide for the shy eyes that watched us from the corners of windows.

The day was running away from me as I thought of the other folks along the route that I wanted to talk to. I'd already tied up the truck load of people several times, I, we, couldn't afford to waste anymore of the day.

My way out stood in front of me. I enlisted the man's aid to spread the word. He agreed to walk to the projects after we left, talking to people along the way, giving them the same information that I'd just imparted to him. I felt it was safe enough considering that we'd taken care of the gang problem.
I hoped I was right, looking at those little sets of eyes peering at me.

In return, he'd get a ride home at the end of the day as we bused our shift workers back to their homes, as well as a bit of food for his trouble. Once there, he was to find Gracie and for all intents and purposes, give her his resume', even if it was verbal.
Hopefully, others along the way would join him. Considering that Alphonso would be making the round trip between the two neighborhoods twice each day, he could pick up workers along the way.

Now that we had our very own bus line, I spent the rest of the trip wondering if the market would support it, or if 'government' would have to subsidize it for the good of the community. The libertarian in me hated the idea of propping up what should be able to stand on it's own. On the other hand, it was important enough to me, to the community that I was certainly tempted to use pubic money to provide the service.
Now all I had to do was find public money.

Alphonso slowed enough that I could yell at the other couple of people who ran to the road as we passed, quickly telling them to expect a herald from the east. He only had a two or three mile walk, but I expected he'd be doing more talking than walking. Hopefully he'd realize that he need to get people to walk along with him while he talked.

I had a moments concern when I saw the strange vehicle at the compound. Then I saw the bean pole with the ginger french braid. I relaxed when I saw it was George, but his presence brought up a whole 'nother set of questions. I shunted them to the side. I'd hear about them soon enough, no need to speculate.

We dismounted and didn't have time to mill around, or even stretch muscles before Gracie and Kiko came over and whisked away the workers. I had just enough time to tell her about the potential new arrivals before she turned and led the others to the tasks she'd lined out for them.

Lyle took our security people under his wing. I should have been doing some training with them, but delegated it to him, briefly outlining what I'd had in mind for the day's evolutions.
George had been waiting patiently to one side. He saw his chance and moved up, only to have Doc rush up demanding his supplies, oblivious to the rude interuption he'd just caused to a valued friend.

I got Doc squared away and led George away where we could talk, after sharing a hearty handshake.
“So what's up? You're a long way from home? How'd you know to look for me here?” In reality he was only about five or six miles from his place. A quick jaunt down the road last month. Now it was a big deal. Not just because of the expenditure of fuel, but the exposure to potential trouble.

“They didn't tell you?” He looked surprised
“Tell me what? Who?”
“I stopped by your home. Went to your headquarters looking for you, I though if you wasn't there, they'd know where you was.” I nodded my head at the reasonableness of that.
“Who'd you talk to?”
“New guy. Shasta? Shimmler?”
“Shaffley?” I offered, various emotions churning.
“Yeah, Shaffley. He was a bit weird at first”
“Weird?”
“Like he didn't trust me or something. Daniels vouched for me, then he eased up. Too much.”
“Oh?”
“All of a sudden he was my best friend. Asking all kind a question, then telling me all the thing he been doing. It was all too much, you know?”
“Trying too hard?”
“Exactly. But eventually he told me your were here. You just came from there, no?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he tell you I was looking for you?”
“Why indeed.”
“He said you were great good friends and that you'd worked together.”
I snorted. “We did, sort of. I brought him on as an assistant, and mentored him, helping him build a career. He's smart, sharp, personable. It worked well for a while.”
“'Til he wanted to be boss.” I looked at George sharply. It wasn't even a question. He was sure enough to phrase it as a statement.
“He couldn't stand not being the head man. So he wanted to start his own thing,”
“Competing with you, after you'd helped him along?”
I nodded. “Which would have been fine. A compliment to me, really. But he was just underhanded and crappy about how he went about it.”
“So what's he doing at your place? Isn't he embarrassed?”
“Probably, but I imagine that he's hoping that it's been long enough ago and with things changed, that I'll just let it go.”
“Will you?”
“I don't know.”

 

;-)

 

“So now you know more than you ever wanted to about my tale of woe. What brings you out here? Not that I'm not glad to see your smiling face.” My mind started leaping from one conclusion to the next and my heart started to sag. “Is everything OK? Family? You haven't been attacked, have you?”

George stood with a half amused smile, watching, waiting for me to come up for air. He took his cue when I finally gave it to him.
“Everything is OK with us. We haven't had no trouble since you finished off dem gang bangers. No, it's been nice. Quiet.”
That made me feel a bit better, but there was still something going on. I guess George was going to make me work for it. He was probably trying to get me to slow down and pace myself.
I took a deep breath. He gave his approbation with an imperceptible nod. I started again, more slowly.
“I'm glad to hear that. I haven't gotten a report in a few days, I've been a bit busy here, but what I'm getting is that our security people are training well together. Is that still the case?”

He nodded deeply, deliberately, and slowly. “Yes.” Looking around the compound with great interest, I realized I'd been rude. And he'd been very patiently and gently letting me know. I mentally hit myself in the head at my cluelessness.
I wasn't clueless, obviously, part of my mind rationalized, just tired and distracted. The result was the same, I argued back.
“Can I show you around? Get you caught up on what we've done here?” George nodded, not in acceptance of my offer, but that I'd made the offer in the first place. Well, maybe the third or forth place. But he was gracious enough to let it go.

For the next fifteen minutes we strolled the neighborhood, inspecting everything from the outhouses on skids to Doc's satellite clinic. We ended in the warehouse, where we sat and were joined by Sadie. She'd brought refreshments, something I hadn't considered and made to leave, looking at me as she was doing so. I looked to a spare chair and back to her, all she the invitation she needed.
George and Sadie chatted for a few more minutes while I contented myself on sipping one of my carefully hoarded cokes. As I did with everyone I drank these days, I wondered what I'd do when they ran out and what I could do to push that day back as far as possible.

Evidently we'd reached the point where George was satisfied. He looked at Sadie, then me. “The Arabs need your help.” he started, with no further preamble.

He watched for my reaction. I didn't have one for him. We looked at each for a few seconds until George looked away and started talking. “We've been trading with them, almost from the beginning. They got plenty of stuff, but nothing fresh, not any more. So we been bringing them fish, and trading it for stuff we need.”

I nodded, not needing to say anything and not having anything to add at this point. I figured we'd be doing the same before too long. We'd just been busy with other stuff. And we didn't share a common border like the Frenchies did.

George continued, “Everything's been going good. Good for them, good for us. Or so we thought.”
“What do you mean?” Sadie'd been listening intently. Now she prompted George . An effort at guiding the conversation as much as to get clarification. He looked at her, re-orienting, he nodded to himself, understanding where he needed to go and continued.
“The Arabs didn't say anything, not until this morning.”
“Say anything about what?” Sadie expressed the impatience I was feeling. George was taking the long way around, but he wouldn't be hurried or diverted from the path he'd set.
“Early this morning I was about to go out and check some fish trap when Louie came and found me.” The name didn't mean anything to me, but I just worked on keeping up with the narrative


“Louie tells me some Arabs want to talk to me and they in a hurry. I went up to meet them at the eastern road block. There were three of them, but I only recognized Mohammed, you know, from the store up by you.” I nodded my recognition. George continued.

“I wanted them to tell me what they wanted but they talked about small stuff for like fifteen minutes until they got down to business.” I worked at keeping my irony grin inside as I explained, “Arabs are one of those cultures that have to make small talk before they will discuss business.” I made the mistake of looking at Sadie who looked like she was about to bring up Georges' own rambling meanderings before getting to the point. I looked up, closed my eyes, gave the slightest hint of a shake of my head.
George didn't seem to notice and plowed ahead. “Turns out that the National Guard showed up.”
Uh-oh. “At their road block?” Like us, the Arabs had constructed a defensive position to prevent or at least deter attack. “How many? How were they armed? Were they surprised at finding their way shut off?”
I got a gaulic shrug in response to the last as he started answering the first. “Twelve men, in three hum-vees. They didn't seem happy to be stopped. A couple men from the middle hum-vee got out and came forward.”
“Did the soldiers seem alert? Did they put out dismounts to provide flank security?”
“I don't know.” George was apologetic. “I didn't know to ask that kind of stuff.”
I shook my head to say “don't worry about it”
“Why didn't they come here with you?”
Another shrug. I realized I was impeding progress so I sat back and waved him on. George's eyes wandered up and right as he found where he'd left off. “the leader of the National Guard
told them to let the soldiers pass. They were told no.”
I took a chance on interupting again. “how many Arabs were there?
“Not too many, I don't think. Like four or five. Anyway the next thing, the leader is telling them they know they have food and the National Guard was going to take it so they could pass it out to the people that needed it.”
“I'll bet that went over well. And the Arabs were outnumbered, probably out-gunned too.” George nodded agreement. “So what happened?”
“The National Guard was about to push forward, to push the cars in the road block out of the way. The leader was still on the ground, where he'd been talking with the Arabs. One of them pulls a remote control, like from a TV, out of his pocket. The leader gets real quiet I guess. The guy with the remote points to somethings on the side of the road. Some big pipes aimed at where the hum-vees were.”
I imagined the guard troops eyes getting large as realization took hold. Especially for those that had spent any time in Iraq in the last decade. “IEDs?”

George nodded, one of his trademark face splitting smiles starting to take hold. “Dem boys mash those hum-vees into reverse and hit de gas, meh sohn!” as the story got more exciting, he reverted more to a local dialect. They tear assin' down deh street, dey not waiting for dere leader. He and his boys running after, trying to catch them up.”
We all three of us were laughing at the mental picture. George managed to continue. “They finally turn around, heading in deh right direction. Dat gave the leader and deh others time to catch up and get back in.”
“Bet they took off fast then!” Sadie offered the obvious scenario. Only to be met with a suddenly serious George shaking his head. “Nah meh sohn. Dat leader have some stones. He made his driver turn back around and drive back. They stopped just before they get to the bombs. He gets up in that thing in the middle...”
“The turret” I offered
“The turret, and yells to the Arabs. He tells them they have a week to turn over their supplies. Next time the guard comes back there will be a hundred of them with heavy weapons. If they don't give them up voluntarily, the Guard will take them. He also said the Guard would do an full inspection to make sure they weren't holding anything back.
One of the Arabs asked if they could keep enough stuff to feed their families. The leader told them no. They would be treated like everyone else and get their food and supplies from the governement warehouses.”"
“Government?” Sadie asked.
“I think he meant what's going on over on the east end.”
“IEDs, huh? Where did they get the stuff to make them?” Being Palestinians, it wouldn't be out of the realm of possiblity that there was a bomb maker among them. Stuff to make the bombs was a different matter.
George's smile returned. “They didn't”
“Huh?”
“They didn't make any bombs. Those were fake. They were bluffing.” He laughed at that . I shook my head, admiring the audacity, and the cleverness of playing off on the well known reputation of their people.
The timeline was next to grab my attention. “A week, huh? So that gives them seven days?”
George got a funny look on his face. “No. Only three.”
“Three! I thought you said a week!”
“It was a week. Four days ago. The Arabs waited four days before coming to me.” He still had that funny look on his face. I wasn't getting the whole story. Although it was bad enough as it was. Those guys were screwed. Then I made a mistake.
“So why did they come to see you? To warn you that you might be next?” I was thinking aloud, then made the next connection, “And you came by to give me a heads-up, to warn us?”
I was confused when George shook his head instead of agreeing with me.
“No. No they sent me, because we are friends and they wanted me to ask you something.”
“What?” I asked, knowing I wouldn't like the answer.
“Will you help them?”

 

;-)

 

I could feel Sadie looking at me. She'd support me, either directly, or by telling me that I was making a terrible mistake. I had my inclinations, both emotional and rational, which leaned in one direction. Wouldn't hurt to get some input.
“What do you think?” I looked at my wife, who considered how to answer. It didn't take long.
“Better to deal with it at their front door, than ours.”
“But it's not our fight. Do we want to go pissing off the military?” I've always fell into the role of Devil's Advocate easily.
“How isn't it our fight? It might not be our fight today, but you know they aren't going to stop there. Do you want to give up what we've worked for?”
She already knew the answer to that, I didn't have to respond, so I reiterated the second part. “Do we want to tangle with the military? They are probably better armed and trained than we are?”
“Do we have a choice? Other than giving in? Besides, are they actually 'The Military' anymore? Or just a gang of thugs? I'm not saying one way or the other, but we don't know much about what's going on out there. How things are going.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, other than the story we got when Frank and Virgil escaped. We really could use better information, couldn't we?”
“When do we leave?” I didn't miss her use of 'we'.
“Now. As soon as we can get organized.”

We walked George out to his truck. His people had been watching for him and came over, not needing to be told. He'd take off and warn his people of our arrival as well as telling the Palestinians that we'd be there soon.
A round of warm handshakes and George and his people mounted up. I slapped the truck twice as a final good bye and they were off.

“What do you need me to do?” Ready to be doing, Sadie watched while I thought for a moment. “Tell Daniels not to unpack. Find Jacob. Tell him to hand off whatever he's doing to someone else and to pack for an overnight.”
“You think we'll need to stay there? I guess I better put something together for us.”
“Food and water mostly. No, I'm hoping that we're in our own bed tonight, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared. And.” Sadie watched me while I hesitated. “And just because you and I aren't spending the night, doesn't mean that Jacob and Daniels aren't.” Sadie shrugged and nodded, taking my orders at face value. I hadn't had a chance to tell her about my visit home yet, and why it might be better if Jacob didn't go there just yet.

Standing out on the loading dock, making a mental list of the things I wanted to bring with us, and the instructions I needed to give to those that stayed behind, my eyes wandered over toward the project across the street. My thoughts were focused on my lists, so it took a moment for the scene my eyes were taking in to catch my attention. I watched a scene that I'd seen countless times and initialy it brought a smile to my face. A small, cute, little dog, was trying to get a equally small, cute, little child to play with it.
Chihauhau, golden retriever, pitbull, and shepard, combined to make a mutt we locals called a 'coconut retriever'. This little bitch was on the small side, about twenty five, thirty pounds. She was exhibiting classic 'let's play' body language; bringing its head and chest down almost to the ground, wildly waving tail stuck way up in the air. A leap, the front paws slapping as they came back down.
It reminded me of my own pups, making me miss them. The child was also a girl, about four or five. She stood, uncertain, hands in tight, at shoulder height. The pup came in, sniffed, and waited. The play drive overcame the uncertainty and the girl, shy, reached out a hand. The dog allowed itself to be petted, then rubbed herself down the girls side, her hand running down its back as it passed.
Ending up in front of her, the pup bounced up and down again, drawing a grin from the girl, a last pounce ending with it's paws on her shoulders. The girl struggled to keep her balance under the unexpected weight. Face to face, a long tongue lashed out, lightening quick, planting a sloppy, slurpy doggy kiss smack on the little girl's mouth. This was rewarded by a shriek that started off surprised and ended delighted.
The dog grinned, proud of itself and dropped back down to all fours where it got some more pets. A hand on either side of the neck buried in the ruff, she kissed it back, right on the nose. She was rewarded by a yip that started off surprised and ended delighted. The little girl, down on her knees now, wrapped her arms around the pup's neck and gave a terrific hug.
The dog put up with it for a few seconds, then her wiggles became understood and the little girl relinquished her hold reluctantly.
Who knows when she last had a hug like that.
The mutt pounced, spun, pounced again, letting out excited little yips. I was smiling openly now, enthralled at watching a budding friendship take root.
The playful dance continued, but the dog was casting wider circles now, looking for something.
There!
She grabbed a stick, snatching it up from the ground and giving it a little worrying shake, then brought to the girl and dropped it, sitting expectantly. When there was no response, the pup picked it up and threw it down at the girl's feet again. The third time was the charm and the girl finally tweaked to her part in the game. Picking up the stick she threw it, awkwardly.

The dog was after it like a shot, grabbing it almost as soon as it hit the ground. Another shake and a couple seconds later it was delivered back at the feet of the dog's playmate. An age old game between two species that had turned symbiosis into love.

As I watched, the game shifted subtly. Each time the dog would drop the stick a little further away from the child. First she only had to take a step or two to reach the stick. This soon turned into half a dozen.
The playful pair were a hundred yards away at this point. It took another moment for the unease that had started building to make it's way to the surface of my consciousness. I took a few steps in their direction. This turned into a run as the dog lead the girl around the corner and out of my sight.