An Unwelcome Development

- `1SZ1S JH

Oops! This is what happens when you spill coffee on a MAC wireless keyboard…drats had to go to the NEX and get a new one today….now Zed wouldn't have that problem…because, wall, hail…just because (the damn electricity got shut off n all dat sheet & stuff) ;-)

 

Dad nabbit Zed, u ask fo d trubles n alls dat sheet n stuff! Take what you can carry and burn the rest…savages will always be savages no matter how tame their parents b actin…n all dat sheet n stuff! ;-)

 

Thanks Zen!

Rancher

 

Zelda and Sadie made quick work of going through the rest of the people in line. The crowd of around twenty milled about in the shade provided by the eaves of the building while the three of us conferred.
I looked over the lists, quickly scanning work experience. There were quite a few men with construction experience, but no contractors. No surprise really, as a contractor wouldn't be living in a housing development.
Among the women there were several house keepers from nearby hotels, a couple of cooks, and to my delight, a nurse!

“What's our next step?” Zelda was ready to get moving. Considering half the day was gone, so was I. I thought quickly, running the priorities through my head.
“Sadie, take half of the construction workers and have them start putting together a barracks.”
“Anywhere in particular?”
“You pick, middle building would probably be best. Figure on being able to house thirty to fifty people. There's a furniture shop and a construction company, use what you need.”
“I'm authorized to use whatever I need?”
“Yes. Within reason. If theres' a question, find me so we can have an argument about it.” I gave my wife a cheeky grin.
“I don't know why. You always realize I'm right after all.”
“Protecting my fragile ego's all. And for tradition's sake. That's the way we've done things for two decades, why change now?”
“No reason, I guess.” Getting in the last word she went to get her crew sorted out.

“Zelda, take the nurse and two of the construction guys and continue fixing up the clinic. Get a waiting area, and a few examination rooms, storage, office, that sort of thing.”
I scanned the yard until I spotted Stan and yelled to get his attention and waved him over. While I waited I turned my attention back to Zelda.
“Not a great turn out, considering that there must be a thousand or more people in there.” I nodded my tilted head in the direction off the projects.
“People's going to wait to see which way this goes before the get involve. And some's too sick to work. But you just wait, we'll have more soon, soon as they see how this goes.”
Stan came up and I held a palm up, asking him to wait. “Sick? How so?” I had my suspicions.
“Lot's of folk have diarrhea. Can't keep anything in and they get real weak. We lost several children and older people.”
“Sewer system stopped working, didn't it?” I was so used to having my own water and septic that I forgot that town depended on the Power and Water Authority to provide those basics to life
“Yes, several weeks ago. It's been a mess, especially before anyone figured it out and the toilets started filling up.”
“So what are you doing for water and sanitation?”
“The units have cisterns, although a couple must be broke because they empty. We pull buckets of water out for washing and cooking.”
“And sanitation?”
She didn't want to look at me, somewhat embarrassed. “Well, most folks use a bucket for their number two, and they just urinate wherever they be.”
I suppressed a shudder. I knew what town smelled like after a week of Carnival, I could all too well imagine the sour reek of the projects after three or four weeks of a thousand people peeing everywhere.
“And the contents of the buckets? Where does that go?”
“There's a gut at the edge of the property. Most people dump their buckets there.”
“Most?”
She shrugged. “Some people just disgusting, you know?”
I did know. I put that on hold for a moment. Stan was waiting patiently. Waiting meant he wasn't getting anything accomplished.
“Stan, two things for right now. First, introduce yourself to the woman that have cooking backgrounds and get them set up to feed all of the people here. Second, I'd like you to start inventorying the food stored here. Cool?”
“Cool. No problem Zed. When do you want to eat?”
“After work but while there's still light.”
“Got it.”
I handed him the clipboard. He scanned it, getting the names he needed, handed it back and moved to the crowd. He located his cooks, and was soon moving off with them. I turned back to Zelda.
“Change of plans. We have to address the sanitation issue or we are going to have more problems than we already do.”
“Ok. How do we do that?”
“We need to provide a proper place and way to deal with the waste.” I could see her starting to interrupt we so I hurried on. “And we have to enforce the use of these facilities. That'll be up to you.”
“Me? You want me to make sure people are using whatever facilities you are going to put here?”
“After what I just witnessed, yes. You have more credibility that I do. You're going to be in charge here, at least for a while.” she looked at me sharply at that last. “And that's the sort of thing you're going to be responsible for.”
“I can't be everywhere you know. People going to do things I not going to see.”

I tilted my head sideways and looked at her.
“I suppose I can delegate, can't I? Will I have security people to help me enforce the rules?”
“That's better.” I smiled at her. “You had me worried there for a moment. Yes, of course. You can't do it all yourself. I'll leave it to you to organize things the way you want. We are here for advice and assistance. Ask and we'll do what we can for you.”

She seemed relieved at that. I looked at the crowd of waiting workers. “What's the number of the main or central building?”
“There's the community center.”
I cleared my throat as a well recognized attention getter. They quieted and all turned to me. “We're going to need digging tools, shovels, picks, and bars. Also basic construction tools. Hammers, saws, nails, that sort of thing. What we'd need to build a basic shed. Gather what you can and meet us in front of the community center.”

I looked at the clipboard and found what I was looking for. “Charleswell?” I asked the crowd. A slender man of medium height stepped forward. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him and you could see his abs through his thin tee shirt.“I'm Charleswell.” The clipboard had him down as a plumber and handyman.

“Stay for a moment. The rest of you, I'll see you in fifteen minutes.”
The crowd moved off, and I approached Charleswell. “You have some experience with plumbing?”
“I do.” He wasn't offering anything extra.
“I need a plumber. You want work?”
“I do” he repeated his sparse reply.
“I got a couple things.”
“Why should I work for you?” Not angry. But not friendly either.
“Simple answer is because you want to eat. I imagine you have family that you want to feed too. Am I right?”
A nod was all he'd give me.
“The complex answer is that you should work for me because I'm the best chance you have of surviving. I want to help you. Not because I'm Mother Theresa, I'm not. I assure you. I want to help you because it helps me. If you're doing well, then I'm more likely to do well. You cool with that?”
He stared at me in that blank way that some people have developed to deal with authority when they've spent a life with little to no social power.
“Look. You don't have to trust me. Why should you. I'm going to have to earn that. I get it. Give me a day, then re-evaluate. Talk to Miss Zelda when I'm not around.”
He blinked and looked over my shoulder.
“So, will you give me a day?” I held out my fist.
“Yeah man. I'll give you a day.” He looked a my fist, and waited long enough to make me think about pulling it back, when he finally bumped it.
“So what you need for me to do?”
“We need to get you guys hooked up with water and sanitation. Would you scout out this facility first and then the housing community? I want a report on how many cisterns there are, what shape they're in, how much water we have, if the catchment systems are working. There's a construction company in the last building. Take a look at what's in there and let me know what's useful for getting water and dealing with waste.”
He'd been looking over my shoulder the whole time. When I finished talking, he met my gaze for a moment and then, without a word, headed off. I assumed to tackle the job I'd given him.

“Talkative fellow. Kinda hard to get a read on him.”
“He'll be alright. He don't say much, but he's a good man. Stands by his family.”
I was going to interject some pithy sociological observation but managed to hold my tongue. I switched to a safer topic. “So let's find a place to put some poopers.”
Zelda chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Zed, you never made it past your seventh birthday, did you?”
“You been talking to my wife?” I deadpanned. She broke up at that, cackling whole heartedly. She put her hand on my forearm, support and connection in one. I looked down at that hand, several shades darker than my deeply tanned forearm and was mindful of the symbolism.
Support and connection.

We surveyed the property and identified the initial locations of the outhouses for the housing community. Man wasn't really meant to live with so many in such a small place. Sanitation was always a problem in cities until the advent of clean water coming in and dirty going being readily available.

Going through the history stored in my head I thought of how waste was handled previously. Throwing your night soil out into the gutter was not a solution I was going to put up with. The health issues are something we were in no position to deal with. And why should we? We know better. We should be able to deal with our waste properly.

I seemed to recall that some cities had wagons that would collect waste from houses every morning. To do what with? Dump it somewhere? Could it be used as fertilizer? My mind continued with the process of making connections. Could human manure be used directly on crops? Where there health issues? I thought there might be but just wasn't sure. My brain took me a step further remembering an article on waste processing, getting clean water out the far end of the process, while using the manure to help plants grow.
I paused there a moment. Where had I seen that article? Magazine? Internet? I couldn't tease it out and had learned enough about the way my brain works to know better than to waste time trying to force it. It'd pop out the answer in a little while.

Having identified the locations, Zelda and I walked back to the community center, where we met a crowd of folks armed with a variety of tools. A quick calculation showed we'd gained a few hands from the ones that had left the yard a few minutes ago. That was encouraging. The word was getting out. I searched the faces looking at me. Most were blank, not willing to give me anything to go on. A few were openly skeptical. That was to be expected. I'm an outsider, geographically as well as racially. I'm going to have to earn these people.
Several were hostile, unhappy that I was here. I didn't know the reason, but could probably guess fairly accurately. One way or another, I was betting those people had ties with the gang that so recently was in charge here. With a change in the power structure, so went a change in these people's stature. No one would be happy about that.

“Good Afternoon” I went formal in my greeting and received some muttering in return.
“You don't have to like me. I often don't like myself. And you don't have to respect me. That'll have to be earned, if at all. But I do expect common curtesy.” I looked at all the eyes that would meet mine.
“Let's try again. Good Afternoon.”
I received a much better response, though it was hardly earthshaking. Baby steps I told myself.
“Zed! Boi! Izat you for true?” I turned to the voice which came from a short heavy fireplug of a man, the dredlocks that shook free from the tam as he jogged towards me, flowing out behind him. A long barreled pistol in an Uncle Mike's nylon holster flapped at his side. I was glad to see that he still had his six inch Colt King Cobra. Actually I was glad to see him in general, and for more than one reason.
We embraced warmly, as friends that have been out of touch during trying times would.
“Kiko, I am so very, very glad to see you! You OK? Family OK?”
He got a sad look on his face and I kicked myself for saying the wrong thing, though I wasn't sure what that was.
“We lost Shona a couple weeks back.” That was his youngest, a bright young thing who's trademark was purple ribbons in her pigtails.
“Ah no! Brother, I'm so sorry. Sadie will be heartbroken to hear it.”
“Miss Sadie is OK?” Kiko grabbed the change in direction of the conversation like life preserver. I nodded. “Yup. She's over there, helping get things organized. She'll be happy to see you.”
“I can't wait to see her!”
“You might be talking a different story when she puts you to work.” We both laughed at Sadie's legendary efficiency and her disdain for loafers.
“Dat was you done take over deh warehouse?” Kiko changed track.
“Yeah, before anyone else could. We were a little late, but its in our hands now.”
“Whatchu plannin' on doing wit it?” His tone was curious. Nothing else there that I could detect.
“I'll fill you in on it more soon, but we'll be turning it over to you guys, soon as we get you up to snuff. I'm counting on your help.”
“You know yo does ha' dat already. Anytime, you just tell me wah yo need.”
I was aware that the crowd that was initially surprised at our meeting, was now getting antsy. Use them or lose them.
“Let me get these guys started and we can talk some more.” We hugged again quickly and Kiko stepped to the side. Before I could start, he jumped in, addressing the crowd.
“This heah is Zed.” He poked a thumb in my direction. “We done been friends for donkey yeahz, check? Zed's as good a man as I know. 'e allays done right by me. Treat 'im righ' or yo sorry rass goan deal wid me, heah?”

Kiko took a half a step back, indicating the floor was mine, and moved over to Zelda where he started talking to her quietly.
“Folks, there's a lot we need to get done here, and we are already way behind on some of it. My people are here to help, not take over. We'll be working with you to build you up.”
“Wha' fo'? I was interrupted by one of the previously skeptical faces. “Why you wan' hep us fo'? You jus' goan take what you can and lee' us on ah own.”

Kiko took a step forward but I waved him back. “I'm now angel. I do like helping folks, always have, but truth be told, I need you strong. It helps me if you and your neighbors can look our for yourselves. And that's why I'm here. Why we're here. We want to help, but we need you also. Does that help?”
I didn't get a reply, but I didn’t get an argument either. I'll count that as a win.
“First thing is security, and for now, we've got that covered. You'll take that over for yourselves soon enough. Next is food and water, and there's enough of that for a little while. You'll have to earn it though.” I cringed as the words left my mouth and I waited for a retort, but there wasn't one. I wondered if I should be worried about that.

“Next is sanitation. From what I understand you've suffered from some sickness and I think a lot of it is the result of poor sanitation. We're going to fix that now. We're going to build a series of old fashioned outhouses.” That met with some groans.
“Yeah, I know, not ideal, but really not much more inconvenient than what you are doing now and a lot cleaner. It'll be worth it for healthy children.”

“Miss Zelda is going to take you to several spots we've identified and have you start digging. I need a couple of you with carpentry experience. I'll show you plans. Cool?”
I didn't get any response, and didn't expect one. Zelda moved off and she was followed by most of the people and that was all the response I needed.

Kiko stayed behind and three of the men came over to us. I put a fresh sheet of paper on top of the clipboard. Paper. Something so inexpensive and readily available that we thoughtlessly wasted it. Just another item whose value had changed overnight.

“Ok guys, here's my idea.” I sketched a basic one holer with one addition. Another hole outside the structure. Just a hole with a lid. One of the men remarked on it.
“Wha' deh udda hole fah?”
“A lot of people are using buckets inside, right?” He and the rest of them nodded and the lights came on.
“So deh people dem pour dere buckhed in dah hole, nah inside.”
“Meks sense meh sohn. Uddawise ayo mak a heap a mess inside ah dere!”
We all chuckled at the cut.

“Exactly. It will be easier to dump the buckets and someone could be inside using it the toilet while someone else dumps.” They broke up at my pun. Potty humor crosses all cultural boundaries.

“You can geh concrete? We ahn gah none heah.”
“Concrete? What for?”
“Footers meh sohn.” He looked at me like I was retarded.
“Ah. Yeah. No footers.” I sketched on the bottom of the shed. “Runners”
“Runners? Lak on deh sled? Wha ah we? Cool Runnin's meh sohn?”
“Yeah deh mon! We be the VI Olypmic gold medal winnahs fo' de outhouse bobsled event!”
They were laughing so hard I could help but join them. All of us with some version of a vision of someone sitting on the pot, in an outhouse, going down a Bobsled track.”
The laughing slowed a bit. We were at that roller coaster point where we'd almost come to a stop, but a slight push would send us down the next precipice.
“I don't know. Probably should be the brown medal.”
My lame excuse at adding to the humor sent us into a relapse, more evidence of the pent up stress, rather than my comedic abilities.

We managed, slowly, holding sides in stitches, and wiping tears with the backs of our hands, to pull ourselves together.
“The runners.” I took a breath. “The runners are so we can move the outhouses. The holes are going to fill up quickly. We can dig new ones and move the house over it.”
“Weh goan runowda yard 'fore too long.”
“Yup. We are. And that's where Kiko comes in.”

 

Composter/digesters are the answer to the human waste problem, easily built and the microbial bacteria produce methane gas that can be collected and used much like propane to cook on or run machines; there is an old UNESCO book on the subject and an article in the third edition of John Shuttleworth's "Mother Earth News" printed back in the late 1960's. The process kills bad organisms…making the digester waste safe to handle and use on crops. After WW-II this was popular in rural areas of Western Europe and elsewhere…and still used in Asia and probably a lot of other areas in SA. The system uses human and agricultural waste, farm animal waste, etc., and while labor intensive Zed be having d labor, slaves, n alls dat sheet n stuff! ;- )

 

Thanks for the update...

 

To all my faithful readers, I wish you and yours a Wonder-filled Christmas!

 

Merry Christmas , Zen!

 

Thank you Zen and Merry Christmas to you and yours.

 

Merry Christmas everyone… ;-)

 

Merry Christmas to you and your family @Zengunfighter!

 

Merry Christmas to all the monkeys around the world!

 

Thank you and Merry Christmas Zen

 

And may we find peace in the New Year...

 

Merry christmas every one

 

It was kind of ragged at first. Nobody done this before, and we hadn't worked together before. It would get smoother as we went along.
A couple of men were detailed to get materials from the construction company across the way. One of them had a ridiculously chopped and lowered Mazda pick up truck and offered to use it for hauling materials for the promise of some gas. I was skeptical of how much of a load it could carry, the suspension so low already, but I had limited choices at the moment.
Materials out of the way we went to the first site to start digging. The people stood around waiting for direction. More people came out of their units, curious, this being the most entertaining thing all day. They kept their distance, and when work commenced, none of them came forward to help.
I did some quick figuring in my head to come up with dimensions for the hole, then using a shovel, removed the top layer of grass and dirt along the perimeter so they'd know how wide and long the hole should be.
I handed the shovel back to the person I'd borrowed it from and they set to it. A couple would loosen the dirt with picks and bars, stand back and a couple men with shovels would remove it. At first they were scattering the spoil all over, whichever direction was easiest. I directed them to make a neat pile so it would be easy to fill in as we went.
Just as I finished up explaining my reasoning, the crowd of spectators, which had grown to fifty or more, parted, exposing a woman of indeterminant age, holding a shapeless sagging bundle.
She walked directly up to me and handed the burden to me in such a way that I didn't have any choice. I held out my arms automatically to catch it. The smell hit me first. Sickness.
I was holding a wisp of a child, befouled at either end, wrapped in a thread bare blanket.
“Please sir! You mus' hep mah baby, no? Ah dun evah ting fo' she Ah does know, but deh po' chile, she woan geh bettah.”
The child was radiating heat that I could feel through the blanket. I figured her to be four or five, but I doubted she weighed more than twenty five pounds. Without thinking, I handed her to Kiko, and keyed the mic with my now free left hand.
“Mary, Zebra, how copy?”
“I can hear you fine Zebra.” Maria's voice came back strong and clear.
“Relay a message. Two items. I need Doc here soonest, bring what he needs for dysentery. Second, have Daniels come with the doctor and have him bring his toy. Over.”
“Doctor, dysentery, Daniel, drone. Got it.” I could hear her grin over the radio, evidently pleased with her alliteration.
“Tell them to hurry. Zebra out”
I turned back to Kiko to find his tears falling on the sad little bundle he cradled between his arms. Great move Zed, give a man who'd just lost his young daughter another child on death's door. I held my arms out to take her back but Kiko held her a little closer and shook his head, looking me in eyes.
“Dis lil' one must not die.” He held my gaze. She seemed pretty far gone to me, and I hated the idea that Kiko would lose another child, even if it wasn't his. She'd established surrogacy in his heart, if not his mind.
“Doctor's on his way. Let's get her to the clinic and get her cleaned up.”
That was enough for Kiko who started marching towards the storage facility. I wanted to stick around for the building of at least the first outhouse, but that didn't look like it was going to happen. I took a deep breath, accepted that I can't control everything and followed after my friend.
“Zebra, this is Mary.” I keyed the mic while struggling to keep up with Kiko, who despite his short legs, was covering some ground.
“Go for Zebra.” I got out between breaths.
“Doc wants to know why you think dysentery rather than cholera?””
“First thing that came to mind, over.” I didn't really know the difference I realized.
“He asked if there was a fever?”
“Yes, patient is burning up, over.”
“I'll relay that information.”
“Do they have an ETA? Over.”
“Leaving here in five or ten minutes”
“Roger that. Thanks Mary. Zebra out.” That meant they'd be here in a half hour at the most. I caught up with Kiko as he neared the gate. A couple of Lyle's men were guarding it and moved from where they'd been standing in the shade over to the opening.
They saw me and immediately moved to open it. That's when the rifle boomed.
It came from up the hill. As I looked, another shot was fired, and a third followed about three seconds later. The guards let us in and rushed to close it behind us.
“Sounds like your boss is getting some. Get to your position and watch your sector!” I turned to Kiko, “C'mon” I yelled at him as I started jogging toward the clinic. Halfway there a fourth shot was fired. I wanted to know what was going on and I had to get Kiko and his charge taken care of. Talk about overload.
I was reaching for the mic on my shoulder when the call came in. “Zebra, this is Foxtrot. Over”
“Go Foxtrot”
“Lima just engaged a car full of gang bangers. He took out the driver, and one other. Vehicle is stopped. It's a red Fourunner. ”
“Distance?”
“Seven fifty, maybe eight”
Lyle must have crammed some more cartridges in the Winchester because it fired again, walking all over Frank's transmission.
“Seven hundred and fifty to eight hundred yards? Over.”
“Affirmative.”
“Just the one vehicle? Over.”
“Affirmative” Frank got out just before Lyle sent another round down range.
“How did you ID them as a threat?” I didn't want us shooting up good guys.
“Several were hanging out of the windows displaying AK s. Lots of red, including on the antenna.”
“Keep 'em pinned if you can. We'll see if we can get a prisoner. Over.”
“Will do. Foxtrot out”
Hearing the shooting, Sadie'd come out of the unit she'd been working in. She came running over to see what was going on. I could tell when she recognized Kiko.
She slowed and walked the last couple of paces.
“Kiko! I'm glad you're Ok!” she looked at me. “What's going on?”
“Lyle stopped a car full of 'bangers. He's got them pinned.”
Her attention moved to the bundle. “Come on! Let's get your daughter in to the clinic.”
Kiko started to correct her but I interrupted him. “Doc Shoemacher is on the way. Get her cleaned up best you can, get her ready for him. Go!”
That jostled them to action and Sadie took Kiko's elbow to get him moving in the right direction. Then they were both jogging in the direction of the clinic.
Stan and Juice were running towards me. Stan got there first and we waited a couple seconds for Juice before I started. Lyle's rifle barked again.
“Get two of your men each and meet me back here. Lyle stopped a car of 'bangers and we need to finish them. Go!” I gave them the same prod that Kiko and Sadie got moments earlier.
I ran over to the Excursion and checked it out. No puddles of fluids under it and it fired right up. I got back on the radio. “Foxtrot, Zebra. We're coming out in the Ford to mop up. Over.”
“Understood. We'll support from here. Over”
“How many 'bangers left and what are their locations?”
“There was five to start. Lima got two. Rest exited the vehicle on the far side. Still pinned there. Last few shots has been Lima keeping their heads down. He could put rounds through the car to flush them if you want. Over.”
“Hold on that last until we get there and I have eyes on. Zebra out.”
Frank double clicked his mic in response.
Stan, Juice, and the other four people gathered around. I checked their gear quickly, saw I had two southpaws and pointed them out. “You and you, passenger side doors, front and rear. Rest of you can sit wherever. Lyle stopped a car, red, Toyota Fourunner with five bloods. Three are left and pinned on the far side of it. We're going to finish them.”
“You want prisoners?” It was obvious that Juice would just as soon kill them all.
“If we can safely. I'll ask them to surrender. We'll see how it goes. Any other questions?”
“How do you want to deploy?
Stan looked at Juice. “Deploy? When did you become GI Joe? Deploy? Seriously?”
Juice just shrugged his shoulders. “How would you say it?” tossing the ball in Stan's court.
“Deploy” Stan grinned at Juice's sour expression, and missed ducking for the sweaty rag that Juice flung at him.
“Now that we've got the clowning out of the way... We'll play it by ear. Don't know what we have to work with. We'll decide on the fly. So if you don't mind, get in the damned truck.” I let the harsh tone convey my seriousness, but only until they looked suitably chastened. I knew the playing was a manifestation of the stress. It was only a few hours since they had to fight to take the warehouse facility. Now here we were again, going up against people that wanted to kill us.
Before too long we needed to increase our fighting force so we could spread the load of missions out. And I'd have to figure out what to do about the PTSD that was sure to crop up. Not just from the fighting, but all the other horrible things people were witnessing and experiencing.
We were in for a whole lot of crazy if we didn't nip it in the bud.
I cranked up the Ford and waited for windows to get rolled down and people situated. The lefties on the right side of the car were able to comfortably poke their rifles our their windows, the righties following their lead on the left. The rest of the team was in back, tailgate left down, prone and aiming out the back.
Pulling the lever into gear I swung the large SUV around. The delivery truck that the 'bangers had been using was in my way. I started to put it in reverse and take another bite on the turn to get around it, but put it all the way into park, opened the door and got out, a new plan quickly forming in my head.
“Out! Come on! Let's go!” My commands were met by puzzled looks and faces not well pleased. People tend to get settled into a path and don't like to have it interrupted. Even if you can show them a better way.
I jumped in the driver's seat, started it and drove it over to where sand bags were being filled. I back up to them and had the roll up door opened before my crew made it across the yard to me.
“What are you doing?” Stan demanded, caught between grumpy and unsettled.
“Now what?” Juice whined. The rest of the team, not being as familiar with me, refrained from giving voice to their thoughts.
“I'm trying to keep you guys alive. You all cool with that?” I moved to the back of the truck and grabbed a sand bag and lifted it into the back of the cargo area. The team members followed and each grabbed a bag which quickly settled into a more efficient bucket brigade.
Every half minute or so, the long gun would bark. Not hearing from Frank, I assumed it was just Lyle doing his job, keeping the gang members pinned.
Everybody tweaked to what I was doing and the reasoning behind it. I didn't need to explain the change of plan, nor the superiority of it. Soon we had a row of sand bags from one side of the box to the other, three feet high. We re-packed the boxes of supplies that were already on the truck to hide the them. Looking in from outside, all you saw was a thigh high load of food.
“Juice, take shotgun, rest of you in the back.” I watched as they got behind the sandbag barricade and test their firing positions. “Stay down until you hear the horn. Then open up.”
Juice and I saddle up and seconds later we were leaving the lot and turning towards where Lyle had the bad guys pinned down.
“Lima, Zebra. Over.”
“This is Foxtrot, Lima's on the gun. Go” Duh. I needed to keep things straight in my head.
“Roger that Foxtrot. We have the panel van with a special cargo on board. Have Lima toss a round or two towards them now, then reload. We'll wait a few seconds for him to do that and get back in position. We should finish them, but Lyle needs to be ready to clean up any garbage we miss.”
“Understood Zebra. I'm reloading for him so we only be down five or six seconds.”
“Got it. Send 'em. Zebra out.”
A second later the '06 spoke, and again, four seconds later. I hit the gas, spinning the wheel to bring the ungainly van with the heavy load onto the main road. “One hundred and one, one hundred and two.” I counted out loud as the truck slowly gained speed. “One hundred and three, one hundred and four.” This had to look like a panic move on the 'bangers buddies' part. We couldn't give them time to puzzle it out.
“One hundred and five,” the speedo was topping thirty miles an hour and I kept it there, the Fourunner a hundred yards a head of us. Juice and I hunkered down as far as we could behind the dashboard.
“A hundred and six” we were coming up on their vehicle when a 'ting' on the truck's sheet metal was immediately followed by Lyle's rifle. Juice and I looked at each other. He shrugged, “adds to the realize.”
Well, if anyone was going to shoot at us, I was glad it was Lyle.
I let up on the gas as we came up even with the SUV. Not wanting to bury my guys in sandbags I couldn't stop too quickly. Juice cracked his door and putting on his best West Indian accent yelled to the men hiding, “Ayo, geh yo ras in heah now!”
Judging the momentum at a safe point I stopped the truck quickly about twenty five yards past the 'bangers' position. Looking in the side mirror I watched as three men left the cover of the Fourunner. Two of them sprinted towards the familiar truck, while one was limping badly, trying to keep up. I laid on the horn and less than a second later all Hell broke loose. The five guys in the back opened up as one. The first two, closest 'bangers were shredded, while gimpy was ignored. He reacted quickly, eyes comically wide in surprise, pivoting away from us.
His one eighty continued as Lyle's 168grain jacketed hollow point missed its mark, punching him in the shoulder and continuing his turn all the way back around until he was facing us again. The first two gang members were down by now and Gimpy had all five of my men's undivided attention.
His ungainly, ballistically aided turn unbalanced him and he toppled over. Somewhat surprisingly, everyone held their fire.
The sudden silence was not complete, snicks and clicks and clacks as the team took care of their rifles, making sure they were fully fed. I watched the side view and no one, not even Gimpy, was moving.
“Foxtrot, Zebra. We're dismounting. All clear? Over.”
“All clear from what we can see Zebra. Over.”
I looked at Juice as I pulled the Krink around, checking that the selector was down by feel. “Come around the front and join up on me.”
He just nodded and complied, quickly skirting the engine compartment. I led off, moving to the back of the truck, using it as cover.
“You guys stay in there and cover us. We'll check it out.” I tapped on the body with the palm of my hand to punctuate my order.
The first two were very obviously dead, both with parts of their heads missing. Important parts. The third was still alive, panting, quick and shallow. Shock setting in. His rifle was on the ground and we moved it away from him. Taking his pistol from his waistband and finding no other weapons, Juice used large cable ties to secure him. He needed first aid, but we had more important things to deal with first. And I wasn't even sure we'd waste time trying to help him.
Done, Juice joined me and we eased around the Fourunner, I sliced the angles just like it was a building. Before I'd made my second cut, Juice dropped down on the ground, extending his rifle in front of him, aiming under the SUV. The three shots he fired sounded odd, muffled yet reverberant, like clapping your hands in an large empty drum.
I wasn't expecting the move, but Juice had covered an opening I'd forgotten about. Sloppy. Rifle at the ready, I moved laterally until I could see all three bodies. They were done. Sightless eyes are hard to fake.
“What was that about?”
“What?” Juice played innocent.
“That shooting.”
“I could see all three. I made sure they were dead before you exposed yourself. What were you doing moving up so quick on an unknown threat?” He countered.
Good point. Rather than answer I ignored him and started going through the bodies, salvaging anything of use.
Stan and the other four climbed out of the truck and he set them up in defensive positions. Something I should have done. I was suffering from a cranial rectal intrusion, just aware enough to know it, but still in the denial stage. I wasn't ready to admit to myself that I was screwing up even though the awareness of it was creeping past my ego.
We loaded the bodies and the wounded prisoner into the truck, and rather than spend time now, going through the 'bangers' Toyota, I got in it, to follow along behind Stan and the others in the truck on our way back to the storage unit. The truck barely started moving before it was stopping again. Juice jumped out, ran back to me, and got in the passenger seat. As soon as the door slammed shut, Stan was off, me right behind.
“I don't know what's going on, but you need to get your head out of your ass before you get someone hurt.”
I tried to ignore him, staring out the windshield and making a point of being situationally aware by very obviously checking the side view mirrors.
“I'm serious as a heart attack Zed. I don't know what's going on, but you need to fix it. People are counting on you.”
I wasn't ready to let go yet. “What? Because I made a small tactical error? I got a little ahead of myself approaching the SUV?”
“Are you really going to do this? That was a small thing. There was the lack of planning getting us ready for this. Shown by the fact that at the last minute you had us change everything.”
“A better idea occurred to me. I shouldn't have adjusted? How does that make sense?”
Juice sighed. “If you hadn't been so quick to run out there in the first place, if you had taken a few more minutes to plan, you wouldn't have gone off half-cocked and done things right in the first place.”
“Things are never perfect!” I was starting to get angry. And I wasn't ready to admit that I was angry with myself, so Juice got it. “If you wait until things are perfect you'll miss your chance! I don't know what your problem is! Haven't I always taken care of you? Haven't I always pulled things together?”
“Bingo!”
“Bingo what?”
“Bingo, that's exactly the problem. All you've had is success. You think you can't fail. It's effecting your judgment.”
“Is it? Or maybe I really do know what I'm doing!” I knew I was being stupid but I just couldn't stop myself.
Juice took a moment, giving us both a chance to breathe. “Listen, we owe you so much. You've done amazing things for us. I hate to think where we'd be if it wasn't for having you working for us.” That was more like it, I thought. Except I knew there was a 'but' coming.
“With what you've accomplished, you now have some very loyal people. People that will do what ever you say, whenever you say it. That's an incredible responsibility.”
“You think I don't know that? You don't think I'm reminded of that every time I see Jacob, see a twinge of pain when he moves the wrong way? Knowing that I almost got him killed?” It was a good thing I was angry or the tears would be flowing. We were almost to the storage facility yard and I didn't need anyone to see me that way.
Juice knew his window was rapidly closing and tried to wrap things up. “We need you dude. You know we're here to help you. Stop trying to do it all yourself and let us help you. We all love you man. You can count on us to help, all you have to do is ask.”
I turned into the parking lot a little rougher than needed, the sudden rocking knocking the back of Juice's head into the side window. A small petty thing that I instantly regretted.
“Sorry.” I said weakly.
“I know.”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see that he was still turned towards me, the concerned expression unchanged by the contact with the window or my ego.

 

O'k…that's a good start; I'm in! Now, really…Zed be needing some roving rangers to just go and take out the enemy wherever de toads b fond uf hiding!

 

Been waiting for this Christmas present, THANKS Zen

 

Thank you Sir...

 

A late Christmas present. Keep on writing.

P.S. Is poor Keith very going to get his coin purse?

Whynot