Original Work The Unwelcome Sign

'Tribalism' becomes the operative word…and let's face it, barbarism can be fun too…let the games begin as it were. A race war is developing in the story and there is no going back, merely a microcosm of what is happening everywhere in the US…right now. When your uniform becomes the color of your skin, etc., you know that desperate times prevail indeed…again, not necessarily a bad thing, there are after all honorable and respectable ways for groups to deal with each other…so, let's face it…diversity is dead.

 

I pulled Denise aside as she was leaving our impromptu meeting. “We're still on for your first aid class this afternoon?”
“Sure are. I've got the curriculum worked out and have put together some kits to hand out. They are pretty primitive, and I probably don't have enough for everyone, but it's a start and people will see what's in them and be able to put together their own, once they see what goes in them. And how to improvise and how to use the items is more important.”“Cool. I'm thinking you start right after lunch break, say at one o'clock?”
“Suits me, I'll be ready. Where do you want to do it?”
“Come on up to the top chicane. I'll figure out a location this morning.
”Denise went on her way and I found Sadie, who was getting the garden group together. They had been working on the abandoned plot over the past few days. Most of the potatoes had been harvested, and they were working on getting the rest planted in what ever seed was available. I got Sadie off to the side for a moment so I could talk to her. “You Ok working by yourself with these people?”
“Yes Sweetie, I'll be fine. Sandy's going to be with me today, she'll have my back. And I've got a good group of folk working with me. None of them liked Carol all that much. I've actually heard plenty of grumbling about what she's done, so I don't think there will be any problems. Once we get to the plot I'm going to tell them what happened. If anyone has a problem with it, they can leave. It'll be fine.”
“OK sweetie. You know to be careful. I'll see you at Carol's at noon.”I gave her a kiss good bye and left her to get on with her day. “I've got a job for you.”
“Sure Zed, what's up?” Jacob asked with his usual enthusiasm. “I'd take it as a personal favor if you would keep an eye on Sadie for a little while this morning. She's going to tell the people working with her about Carol's shooting. I'd like there to be someone I can count on to make sure she's alright.”
The pride was evident when he realized he was the person I was counting on. “Do you think there'll be any trouble? That someone would hurt Sadie?”
“No. I don't think so, or I wouldn't let her go, or I'd go with her. No, I think everything will be OK, but I just want an insurance policy.”
“Just call me Lloyd. Lloyd's of London.” he said with a cheesy British accent.
I chuckled at his bad joke. “OK 007. She said she was going to tell people straight off, first thing. If there's an issue, it will probably be right then. So I don't think you have to hang around all morning. Maybe just an hour or so. Use your best judgment. Oh, and I think you should stay out of sight. Cool?”
“Sure. No problem. I'll come find you when I'm done. I'll head out now to get there before them and find a place to hide up.”
“Good man.” I clapped him on the shoulder as he left, passing me on his way to the garden plot. I walked up to the upper chicane right after meeting with my folks. I was pleased to see that Dupont and Lavell had the crew working on the defenses. They were down in the gut working to make things better for us, and worse for any attackers. A huge effort was made to eliminate places of cover as much as possible. One group was working on the bush. Clearing it to make an open killing ground and taking what they cut and cleared and moved it to create a barrier to make it difficult to pull off a flanking maneuver. That was something we hadn't done, and I made note to have our people work on it. Dupont and Lavell were over by a group of large rocks in the middle of the gut. I went to join them.
“Good morning!” I smiled as I approached.
“Morning.”
“Morning Zed” “I'd say these are too big to move.” I sat on one of the rocks.
“We were just discusing that.” Dupont responded. Lavell was looking from the rocks to the chicane and then to the observation post. “You have a plan, don't you?” I grinned at Lavell. “Well, I would, if I had a claymore or two. It's always good to have an obvious place of cover for the enemy to go to when they are under fire. As long as you have a surprise to leave for them there.”
I looked up hill from where I sat, looking at the terrain. “What about another fighting position there.” I pointed, “A person there could rake this position with flanking fire.”
“True. I thought the same thing. And it may be our only choice.”
“But...”“It's a not too big a deal, but that position would be fairly far forward of the rest of our positions. I don't want to leave someone hanging out in the wind, possibly vulnerable to a counter attack.”
“Go ahead and put the position in. Try to give them as good an escape route as possible. Meanwhile, let me think about what we can do as far as surprises.”
“Ok, that wasn't too bad. Let's do it again” A chorus of groans met my last remark. We had spent the last couple of hours going over quick reaction drills for the upper chicane. Three long blasts of the car horn was the start signal. Lavell's team would run from a staging area to their positions around the road block. Key people in critical positions had long guns, the rest had their pistols. The group went back to the starting point and waited for the car horn. Three honks and they were off again, finding their places more quickly and surely.
We went over the best way to use the cover provided for them, and had them dry fire at make shift targets that we set up on the road. The car horn sounded two short and one long and half the people shifted to secondary positions where they could engage targets in the gut, as in response to a flanking maneuver. Two quick beeps were repeated several times. Half the people shifted from their positions and fell back to hastily prepared positions that I hadn't noticed before.
Lavell had been busy. This must have been his idea as we hadn't discussed it. As soon as those people were settled a whistle blew from over to my right and the other half of the group still at the barricade moved back quickly, past the first people and to another set of positions. These varied from trees to cars to rock walls. Some were left alone, others had been modified to provide better cover.
“Well, I'm impressed.” I shook hands with Lavell. “You've taken what I started and run with it. I like the fall back positions. We should look at bringing them all the way down to the lower barricade.”
“Yes sir. And we need to two groups to work with each other.”
“Agreed. First we need to figure out how we can support you up here. This is the first line of defense, we should have as many people here as possible so even a large group can get past.”
Jacob came trotting up to me, which reminded me of something I was thinking about earlier. He greeted Lavell with a fist bump. “Everything Ok down below?”
“Yeah, no worries.” He looked a question at me.
“No problems up here. At least none anyone is talking about. Hey, I've got an idea you might be able to help with.”
“What's that?”
“I noticed you were into model rockets.”
He looked a little embarrassed, like maybe rockets were part of a childhood that he was trying to leave behind.
“Well, yeah, I was.”
“Please tell me you still have some supplies, especially the igniters”
That caught his attention, and his enthusiasm was piqued. “Sure, yes. I've got a bunch of them. Couple of dozen anyway.”
“Great. Can I have some?”
“Of course. You don't have to ask that. What are you going to do with them.”
Lavell was tracking. “Make some surprises” The thought left a smile on his face.

I met Johns at Carol's house. I arrived around 11:30 and he was inside the food storage room, clipboard in hand, taking what I assumed was inventory. He stopped when he heard me enter the room. “Morning”
“Morning Zed.”'
“I see you're taking a tally of what's here.”
“You know, it's incredible. I can't believe what she had in here. And she was being so tight with it. There is months of food, enough for everyone. I've been running some preliminary numbers to get a handle on it.”
“Well, none of us know how long this food has to last. So it makes sense to be careful with it.”
“Oh, I get it, but that's not all of it. I found another stash.” I backed out of the room to let him out and followed him to another room. The door to the downstairs bathroom was closed. He opened it to display stacks of food, so much that there was barely room for one person to stand just inside. “I've found other stashes like this throughout the house.”
“How? How did she end up with so much food?”
“I found Carol's phone. Of course there's no service, but I checked the history. There were a number of calls to the Governor's chief of staff, Grey and to Mrs. Quinn.”
“Jacob's mom?”
“Yes. The last part of the call history is interesting. Carol called Ellie and right after that, Grey. Shortly after that there are half a dozen calls from Ellie to Carol that were unanswered, one right after the other. Like she was desperate for Carol to pick up. It's sort of strange that she didn't, because a few minutes after that she received a call from Gray. It was a short one. Less than thirty seconds.”
My mind tried to process the information. Did it mean anything? Was it important? So these people called each other? So what?
“I found these” Johns handed me the clipboard. I flipped through the papers. The inventory wasn't Johns, as it was computer print outs. On government letterhead. The last sheet of paper I came to bore the Governor's letterhead and was signed by Chief of Staff Grey. It authorized the transfer of large amounts of food to Carol. “What's it mean?” Maybe Johns wasn't such a bad detective after all.
“Not sure. I'm still trying to work it out. But something was going on. I don't know if I'll ever have enough of the pieces to get a full picture. But it sure stinks to me.”
“So Carol was up to something? What?”
“Like I said, I don't know. But I don't like what I see. I need to think about it.”
“What do you make of the letter from Grey? Do you think we need to worry about it?”
“We might. Grey certainly knows there is a lot of food here. Lord knows who else knows. The people that gave it to her certainly.”“Lovely. Why do I all of a sudden feel like I'm standing on ground zero of a target range?”
“How are your defensive preparations coming?”
I didn't answer right away, thinking. Before I could respond, Johns asked another. “Those rifles that the gang bangers had, did they come from the government?”
I said a bad word.

Carol's shroud wrapped body lay next to the grave that Sadie and I had dug the night before. She was starting to swell and I was anxious to get her in the ground. Sadie, and most of the rest of my group showed up a little after noon. “Thanks for showing up guys.”
“We're here for you, not her.” Stan said, pointing at the package.
“I know, and I appreciate it.” I thought about the conversation I just had with Johns, I wanted to share it, but what did I know, really? Maybe I'd bring it up later.
“When are you going to bury her?” I shrugged my shoulder before answering Sandy.
“I don't know. I'll wait a little longer to see if anyone else shows up to pay their respects”
“Who's going to show up?” Fiona asked. “I don't know, I figure she must have had some friends.”
“You really think they would show up with you guys here? You don't think you might intimidate them? I started to get mad, then realized she was right.
“I see your point. I was sticking around because I was taking responsibility for seeing that she was properly put to rest. But I don't need to be here. Sadie and I will head home for a while. I'll come back just before we get back to work to put her in the grave and bury her.”
“We'll handle that Zed, you've done enough. Rest for a little bit.”
“Thanks Stan. I'll take you up on that.”
I took Sadie's hand and we walked back to our home.

 

Glad to have you and your great story back...thank you again for sharing!

 

“I can't do this anymore.” Sadie and I were sitting on our porch. It was lunch time but I had no appetite. The dogs sensed my mood and shoved wet noses into my lap, under my hands, knowing that petting them would make me feel better.
That was the theory anyway.
“I know Sweetie. You've taken on too much. You're trying to help everyone. You can't do it.”
“I'm trying to help us. We need those other people. I guess it didn't occur to use. Maybe we were naïve, or just hadn't thought it through. We set ourselves up to deal with this sort of thing, but we need other people if it's going to work”
“We've talked about this before. We've talked about other people that would be good to have working with us.”
“True, but we were thinking about specific people. People that aren't here. And even if they were, it wouldn't be enough. I don't know what to do here. I feel like it's all too much and it's getting too big for me to deal with.”
“Me. I. That's the problem. You can't do it all. You need help. You have to let others do the work.”
“I thought I was doing a pretty good job of delegating work and responsibility. We've got a good group of people working hard, and with little complaint.”
“Except for Fiona. She's always got something to say”
“It annoyed me at first. Now I actually appreciate it. I have to stop my initial reaction of being angry and actually listen and think about what she says. Right now I think of her as my 'slave in the chariot'.” I smiled at her confusion.
“A Roman emperor, while riding in his chariot at a triumphal parade, had a slave riding with him, whispering in his ear; “you're only a man.” There's probably some irony in having a slave who's job it is to keep you humble, but I'm too brain tired to tease it out.”
“Seems like a waste of a slave to me. He could be doing the laundry or the dishes.”
Sadie tried to keep a straight face, but it didn't last long. The corner of her mouth twitched with the smile that threatened to jump out. Watching the tiny quiver set me off. Next thing I know, we're both holding our sides, tears rolling down our cheeks, trying to catch our breath.
“That wasn't really that funny.”
“It wasn't funny at all” Which set off another paroxysm of laughter. The dogs, heads at an angle, looked at us as if we were nuts.
I'm quite certain they were right.
“That just shows how close to the edge we are.”
“I understand, Sweetie. The stress, the worry, the long days, the poor sleep is bringing our emotions to the brink.” Sadie trailed off. I'm sure she was thinking about last night.
“Well, I'm glad we got that out. I feel better, how 'bout you?” Sadie nodded her head quietly. I stood and held out my hand. She took it and I helped her up, into my embrace.
“So, no one showed up?” Sadie and I got back to Carol's house to find that the body was gone and the grave filled in. Stan took off his hat, wiped his brow, and leaned on his shovel.
“Actually, a couple of people showed up, but they were interested in food, not Carol. Johns talked to them.” I looked a Johns who's sweat soaked shirt indicated that he had helped in the burial.
“And one woman came over to the grave right after we got the body in it. We thought she'd have something to say but she just spit on the body.”
“Yeah! She hawked up a big old lougie! Ouch! What?” Fiona's elbow was just returning from it's incursion into Jacob's ribs.
“Alright, that's done with. Let's clean up and head up to the upper barricade. I think we should all attend Denise's trauma care class. See you up there in fifteen minutes. Oh.” I made sure I looked at each of them in the eye. “I want to thank you for this” I nodded at the grave. “And for all the hard work and support you've all put in. I need you to know I appreciate it.”
“We know. You keep telling us.” Stan pretended to be exasperated.
“Yeah, well, get used to it. I ain't about to stop now.”
“Ow! Ow! Ow! Gaaa! It hurts! It hurts!” Denise quickly put the last turn on the windlass before securing the tourniquet while Childs thrashed on the ground in obvious distress.
“A properly applied tourniquet will hurt.” Denise looked up from her patient, to the students crowded around her. “If the patient is conscious and you aren't getting this type of reaction, then you aren't applying it tight enough.”
“Once you have the bleeding stopped, then you can apply the hemostatic agent. We have a limited amount of Quikclot, but there are some alternatives that we can use. Cayenne pepper, sugar, tobacco, and tea leaves are some of those items. They have astringent properties and also promote clotting by soaking up the water in the blood.”
“So just pour some sugar in the wound?” one of the student asked.
“For it to work, it has to be in direct contact with the bleeding vessel. That's why the gauze is so effective. You can stuff the wound full of it and it will keep direct pressure on the bleeder and help keep the agent in place.”
“What if you don't have a clotting agent?” asked another student.
“Direct pressure still works. Get something in there, directly against the vessel. Even if it is a piece of t-shirt”
“Oh my God! Won't they get an infection?”
“Probably. Look. It would be best to use clean, sterile materials, especially now that we don't have access to normal medical care. But if you die from blood lose, you won't have to worry about infection, will you?” the student shook their head at her answer.
“Once that's done, we need to seal it up and put more pressure on the wound.” Denise pulled out one of the Israeli Battle Dressings that I keep for training and showed it to the students.
“This is a pressure dressing. Which is a fancy name for a bandage. It has a sterile pad that goes over the wound, an elastic band to provide tension, and a pressure bar to add a little bit more push on the wound.
“Once again, we don't have very many of these, so we have to improvise.” Denise used a pair of EMT shears to cut up a t-shirt. “We can actually get everything we need out of this shirt.” She then demonstrated how to make a tourniquet with the cloth, making sure they knew it had to be at least and inch and a half wide so it wouldn't cause tissue damage when it was cranked down.
“You can use smaller strips to pack the wound. If its available, you could smear the cloth with honey and sugar before you cram it in the wound bowl.”
“Honey?”
“Yup. It has antibiotic properties and will help keep the sugar on the cloth. Finally you can use this as a pressure bandage. Put a pad of the cloth over the wound and then start wrapping. Find a rock or other object to put over the wound as you wind the bandage to provide a little more pressure on the wound.”
Denise finished tying a square knot in the material and gave the 'wound' a pat.
“Now we can check our work.” She took Childs' shoe off of the leg that had the tourniquet on it and pressed on the nail of the big toe.
“We can see if we've interrupted the blood flow by checking perfusion. Press on the nail and see how long it stays white, before the color comes back.” She pushed several times so everyone could see.
“Now check on yourselves, on you finger nails. See the color comes back immediately?”
The students all nodded.
“Now try it on someone else.”
There was some shuffling as people partnered up.
“Ok. So what have we learned? What's the first priority of trauma care or first aid?”
“Make sure the scene is safe.”
“Safe from what?”
“Everything. Anything. Bad guys, to the environment. Could be a fire, or a chemical spill.”
“Good. What next?”
“See if they are bleeding”
“before checking if they can breathe?”
“You told us that a person can live without breathing for five or six minutes, but can bleed to death in three.”
“Ok, you found bleeding. What else do you do?”
“Look for other wounds. The one you found may not be the worse injury.”
“Nice. Good job!”
“The patient is having trouble breathing, what do you do?”
Before anyone could answer the horn blew three times. Time stood still for a moment, people looking at each other. I met Lavell's eye and shook my head.
He took a deep breath and bellowed, “MOVE! It's not a drill! GO! GO! GO!”

 

I was halfway to the chicane when I heard the gunfire in the near distance. That must have been what triggered the alarm. A red Toyota pickup slid around the sharp turn which brought it into view a hundred yards away. The tires screeched in protest and for a moment I thought it might topple. The driver fought the fishtail, bringing the truck back under control. “FRIENDLYFRIEDLYFRIENDLY” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT!” I was relieved when I heard the command repeated by others. Juice's truck was almost to the barricade when another car came around the turn. As soon as they saw the truck again, they resumed firing, three guys hanging out the windows, only the driver not shooting. “ssssszip! Ssssszip! Ssssssszip!” incoming rounds are very distinctive and you know instantly what they are. “Ting...ting,ting...ting” rounds hit the cars that formed the road block. Everyone was hunkered down. I took a deep breath and did something stupid. I stood up and waved my arms to get Juice's attention. He picked me up right off, being the only fool standing up. I waved him in and got back down and behind my rifle. No one seemed sure what to do, so I gave them a clue. Putting the red dot of my Aimpoint on the lower edge of the windshield, I started pumping rounds into the where I hoped the driver would be. That had the desired effect and everyone else opened fire. It was like the car was getting sandblasted as a hundred or more bullets hit it in just a few seconds. I don't know if it was mine, or someone else's shot that got the driver, nor did I care. The car slowed and pulled to a stop, nosing into the slope of the hill. Amazingly, the two guys in the back seat seemed unscathed and they scrambled out the rear window. One lost his nerve and made a run for it. Three or four of us fired at him and he staggered under the blows and fell after taking a few more steps. More people would have shot at him, but most of them had empty guns, having shot their wad when the car came at them. Juice had managed to snake his truck, which was laden down like something out of the Beverly Hillbillies, through the chicane. He had the presence of mind to leave it blocking the exit so no one else could follow him through. He and Leslie got out and staying low, found cover behind the rear car in the road block.I turned back to the shot up car and the remaining bad guy. I couldn't see him. I guess nobody could as he wasn't attracting any fire. Aiming at the concrete as far under the car as I could, I carefully fired five shots in a fan, hoping to skip them off the pavement. Nothing. I tried again. On my third shot the bad guy launched forward, grasping his shattered ankle. He was writhing in pain, but didn't seem to have any weapons on him. I did a three hundred and sixty degree scan, to make sure I wasn't missing anything. “Juice!”“Yeah?”“Just the one car?”“Just the one.”Keeping my eyes on the bad guys as he lay there in obvious agony, I did a tac load, swapping out a fresh magazine for the partial in the rifle. The partial went down the front of my shirt. I did a chamber check and tapped the forward assist without even thinking about it as I stood and made my way to the path through the chicane. It was a tight fit past Juice's truck. “Jake! Stan! On me! Lavell! Cover! Keep your people cool.”Rifles at the high ready, muzzles just below our sight line, we carefully approached the car. It was impossible to see through the windshield, crazed and milky from the many hits it took. We were crouched over, knees bent, trying to be small. A hand motion to Stan, put him in front of the car. Jake and I kept moving around to the right, towards the driver's side. I cleared the inside of the car just like a building, by slicing the pie. There were two people in the car. Well, their bodies were in the car. It was plain the passenger was not a threat. Both his eyes were resting on his cheeks, hanging by their optic nerves. That didn't happen from a frontal shot. I'll bet one of his buddies shot him the back of the head. Friendly fire, isn't. The driver wasn't moving, staring straight ahead. I thought he might have been playing possum until I touched his left eyeball with the muzzle brake of my rifle. Nope, he was gone. We approached the wounded guy. He was very much alive and very unhappy. He gave it away when he called me a skunt. I held my muzzle pressed his forehead, pinning his head to the ground while Jacob searched him for weapons. “He's clean Zed”“Thanks. Why don't you and Stan check on the one up the road.”They moved off and I turned my attention back to the fellow on the road. “Where you from?”He responded with another string of profanity. I responded by grabbing his good ankle and dragging him behind the car. While I might have been holding onto the good one, the bad one didn't fare to well during the drag. He screamed and bit his lip till it bled. Out of sight of the barricade, I found his weapon, an AR identical to the others. I cleared it and set it out of his reach. “Where are you from?”He just stared at me, until I reached for his bad ankle. “Savan! Savan!”“Bullshit” He tried to kick me with his good leg but he hurt himself more than me. “You're from Kerwin Terrace”“If you done know, why'd you ask?”“Trying to set a base, so I know when you're lying and when you're telling the truth”“You some kind of cop?”I ignored the question. “How many of you are there?”The hesitations was shorter this time. The fight was gone. ““I don't know man, I never counted”“Guess”You could see him struggling with it. “You want gang members? Women too?”“Whoever can fight”“I don't know, maybe eighty or a hundred. Maybe more. And we keep getting more in everyday.”“Who's the boss man?”“Threeballz”“What?”“Yeah man, you heard me. Because he's got more stones than anyone. Nobody stands up to him. Not and lives man.”“What's he look like?”“Big dude. He's like six four, five, and built, Threeballz is always working out. It's like he can't stop. It's like a shark.”I just looked at him. “You know, how a shark gotta keep moving? That's Threeballz and working out, if he's not pumping iron he's pumping something else.”“Hair?”“He keeps his head shaved man, but he has a full beard.”“Anything else you want to tell me before you go?”He got a confused look which turned to understanding as the tip of the bowie entered just below his ribcage, angled up. Surprisingly he didn't have anything to say, just weakly tried to push my arms away. After a few seconds he gave up and laid back, and let death come.

 

Wet work is good…too much ammunition being wasted…now, time for some real killing, community service work if you will.

 

Ah, the face of the enemy...
Threeballz, this would make a good Kevin Costner movie...

 

then again....he could just actually have three balls......NSFW If You Want To See What It Looks Like To Have Three Testicles, Here's Your Chance

In any case...I think Zed and his associates will be doing a little ball tearing in an episode of so.

Keep up the good work Zen.

 

Thanks Zen. Glad to have some more excellent reading.

 

Dogs have to eat, commercial dog food is lacking soon…Homo-jerkey for the pups, maybe a 3ball treat for a reward…let reality soar, the diversity folks are running out of food…and drugs…I envision some good reading ahead.

 

Well done, no rest for the Honest or Wicked, high Octane all the way. I'm enjoying your story very much.

 

I shuddered involuntarily when I pulled the blade out, the bad guy's body reluctant to release its hold, the edges of the wound dragging at the blade. It finally slid free with a sucking sound, wet and sticky.
I knelt over the body, knife in hand, feeling sad and sick and let down. Wiping it on his clothes I resheathed it.

Killing with a knife has an intimacy that lovers would understand. The French even call an orgasm, 'the little death'. You share a moment, as you look into each others eyes, knowing what's coming, being in each others intimate space. The tip meets initial resistance and then parts the flesh as it sinks deep.
Your partner has a look of surprise as they are entered. You struggle against each other feverishly, trying to put off the end, until acceptance is reached and your intimate submits to their fate and their exertions slowly subside and they are left spent, lying there, unable to move. And like just like sex, death has its own particular smell.

Reaction set in and I felt my gorge rise. Retching, my breakfast was deposited next to the body, adding to the intimate smells of fluids that were meant to be contained in the body. The release was over quickly, and I was glad I didn't have to contend with the dry heaves. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and rose on unsteady legs.

Juice handed me a water bottle. I drank too much, too fast, as if the water could do more than just wash the foul taste from my mouth and the rawness from my throat. “The other one dead?”
“Yup.” Juice unslung an AR for me to see. Jacob had a new pistol in his belt, an ubiquitous Glock. “This was mostly what he had that was worth anything.”
“Ok. Thanks for backing me up.”
“No. Thanks for saving our asses. They got onto us about a mile away. I hated to bring them in here but I didn't know what else to do.”
“I'm glad you did. I've been worried about you.” I gave him a big man hug, the one with the three pats on the back for timing, to keep it from getting creepy.
“You don't know how glad I am to see you. One, because I was worried about you, and two, because I need you here.”
“You got problems?” Juice pointed his chin to the chicane. “Looks like you have things well in hand and people are working together.”
“We'll fill you in later. Right now we need to get you settled in and I need to talk with my people.”

 

Yes, wet work can also be like a quickie, fast, deep and mostly over, no shame, no regrets…and certainly no apology.

 

I would have interrogated him more - but that's me, his lie's can tell you a lot about your adversary's state of mind. I've been on the receiving end of sleep deprivation limited food and water boarding in military training.

 

Sometimes it's best to start killing the enemy no matter what they do or say and keep it up until they are defeated or 'sue' for peace…then finish killing them. This is an island community with no outside world contact and none likely coming from the looks of things, a simple study of Polynesia pretty much tells you what must happen…next!

 

Awesome chapter @Zengunfighter ! Tremendous piece of work! Thank you again for sharing it!

 

“People, that was well done. All of your work paid off. We responded quickly and had the defenses in place that let us handle this attack with no problem.”
When we walked back to the road block I verified that no one was injured, other than a couple of scrapes from getting into positions quickly. Now I wanted to pep them up while talking them down from the excitement.
“Were we getting attacked? Seems like they were after the people in the truck. They brought the attackers to us.” This, from one of the people that I hadn't yet learned their name.
“These 'people' are good friends of mine, and we are lucky to have them here.”
“More mouths to feed” I couldn't see where that came from.
“True enough, but they will more than make up for that by what they bring, not just in material, but in ability.”
“Is that Juice? And Leslie?” Dupont asked
“Sure is.”
Dupont looked at the people around him, most of whom were his neighbors. “Juice is good people. And I've know Leslie since he was old enough to hang around his dad's shop. Juice is a bang up machinist. He's done a lot of work for me over the years, always treated me well and did first class work. I'm glad to have him with us.”
“Juice has been training with me for most of a decade, and Leslie for about two years, so we are getting seriously trained trigger pullers. They both also have experience working with new shooters, so we can really push the firearms training.”
The hard looks softened as the crowd realized that they were gaining valuable skills and experience. “Once again, you did great. We got early warning, the horn worked to get the word out, and you all responded quickly. I'd like to meet and do an after action review and go over this with you. I also know you're probably a little shaky right now. That's natural, as your bodies fight the aftermath of the adrenaline dump. So let's take an hour. Walk it off, stretch, shake it out. Drink. Water that is” that brought some chuckles and a couple of good natured groans. “If you can manage a nap, cool. We'll meet back where we were doing the training. After the meeting, let's take the rest of the day off. And I think we can find the makings of a barbeque to welcome Juice and Leslie and give you a chance to meet them. Last thing people, take a moment to check your weapons. Do so safely, but make sure that they are in the condition you want them. See you in an hour.

I asked Dupont and Lavell to stay. Juice introduced himself and Leslie to Lavell and Jacob. Leslie being of an age with Jacob, they gravitated to each other, and I was glad that Jake had someone his age to hang with. “We need to clean this up. Let's go through the bodies and car to see what we can use. Then I think we should load the bodies in the car and tow it out of here.”
I dug in my pocket for my Jeep keys and tossed them to Jacob, and looked at Juice. “Why don't you have Leslie drive Jacob down to my house and they can bring my Jeep back to do the towing.”
“Keys are still in the ignition, kid” Juice smiled at how fast the two teens turned and ran for the truck. Driving still being a big treat at that age.
The contents of the car worried me. There was none of the loot that we'd seen in all the other cars. Besides the one AR that was a match to the others we found on the gang members from the earlier attack, there were two Rock River Arms Ars with 11.5” barrels and three position selectors, and an .40 HK UMP, just like the VIPD's Special Response Team were issued.
The trunk revealed more troubling treasure. Five metal ammo cans filled with 5.56x45 green tip, and two cases of .40S&W. Not FMJ either, but Speer Gold Dot, which is what the SRT used. The clincher was the pair of plate carriers with “POLICE” patches on the back.
While I was happy to have the equipment, and even more so the ammo. I was concerned about how these gangbangers came to have it in their possession. One of my very best friends was on the SRT. I hadn't heard from him since the start of this mess and I was getting a sinking feeling. I sure wished he was here with us. We finished cramming the bodies in the back of the car.
Standing, stretching to get the kinks out of our backs from moving heavy, unweildy weights into tight areas. “You thinking what I'm thinking?”
“If it's that it's a bad thing that they have cops' guns, then yes” Juice was massaging his wounded arm.
“Not just what's there, but what's missing.”
I'd caught them off guard. They hadn't looked at the negative.
“So, what is missing?”
“loot”I helped along the dawning comprehension. “Every other vehicle that we've seen that the gangbangers were using, were filled with stuff they'd taken from homes. Not this one. Why?”
“Because they hadn't had time?” Dupont made the obvious suggestion. “they had just left and hadn't had a chance to rob anywhere?”
“Because it wasn't their mission.” Leave it to the military man to make the connection. “They were on a scouting mission.”
“That's my take.” I agreed
“Think they're looking for us?” Dupont didn't like that scenario
“Possibly. More likely that they were looking for the missing group that we dealt with the other day.”
“Hey Juice.” He looked at me. “Did you see an SUV on the side of the road with gang signs painted on it?”“ Yes, but just barely, these guys were already chasing me at that point.”
I let out half my breath. Lavell spoke what I was hoping, thinking. “If they picked you up before you got to the SUV, then they hadn't found it yet. And that's probably what they were looking for.”
“Why? What's with the SUV?”
“They came in here and attacked us a few days ago. We took care of them and moved everything away from here, just like we are doing now. This gang is out of Kerwin Terrace.”
Juice swore. “That's right by SRT's headquarters.”
“Yup.”Juice got quiet. He had friends in SRT too.

Jacob drove up in my Jeep, Leslie riding shotgun. I waved him into position, then the six of us manhandled the car around so it was facing the right way.
We tried to start it, but I guess it had taken one too many rounds, and one had found something important. She cranked, but just wouldn't catch.
Jacob backed the Jeep up and I pulled a tow strap out of the carrier on the tailgate and quickly had it connecting both vehicles.
“Who's going to go? You don't have room for all six of us.” I got the impression that Dupont wasn't keen to go, which was fine.
“Lavell, you cool to go?”
“Let's do it.” He'd picked up one of the RRAs and did a systems check.
“That bolt sounds dry to me, brother.” I opened the hood of my Jeep and pulled the dipstick. It provided enough Mobil 1 to lube the important bits. Putting the mag back on and running the charging handle sounded much better. “Can you keep an eye on these things while we're gone?” I indicated the pile of weapons and ammo to Dupont who nodded in agreement.
Taking the front panels off of the Jeep's hard top was the last preparation before leaving.
“Juice, drive, Lavell shotgun, boys, get in the back. I'll steer the towed car.”
No one had anything to say and quickly assumed their places. Juice gave me a questioning thumbs up, which I returned. The brake lights came off and he slowly eased forward, taking up the slack in the strap. It went tight and then stretched a little before I finally started moving.

 

At this point I'm expecting one or more infiltrators to come in and try to snatch a 'hostage' and some 'real' shit hitting the fan…too much nice, nice…so far. (really enjoying the story, wish I were a writer as well).

 

It was obvious Juice had towed a car before, allowing me to do most of the braking for us, to keep the strap tight. We didn't see any other vehicles on the way. We arrived at the area where we left the other car and Juice gave me enough room to pull in front of it. Throwing the gear shift to park, I grabbed my bag and rifle front the seat next to me. Unclipping the strap from the front of the car, I looped it around the spare tire on the Jeep, not wanting to take the time to unhook it and stow it properly. Juice was just getting in the back seat with the boys, leaving the driver's door open for me. I jumped in, right foot hitting the brake pedal, right hand running the lever to Drive, I had the vehicle moving before I was fully seated. I wanted out of there. I got the Jeep turned around and myself settled in seat. I snugged up the lap portion of the belt and got the seat back from where Juice had it. Accelerating smoothly up to about forty five, we'd made it about a mile from the drop. We were almost to the turn off to our road when a white import sedan came up on our tail. It seemed familiar to me, but I couldn't place it. “We've got company” Lavell used the mirror to confirm what I'd said while the guys in the back tried to turn to look, somewhat hampered by the tight confines of the rear seat. “Hang on. I'm not going home with them behind us.” I reached down and hit the button, turning off the traction control. I needed to be able to do things the computer wouldn't want me to. I blew past our turn off, needle reaching fifty. A little trail braking got me through the easy right and I had just a second to stand on the brakes, scrubbing ten mph in the all too brief straight, easing off as I hit the entry. The wheels let me know they were unhappy, as they screeched to the apex. Accelerator went to the floor as I unwound the steering. A quick look in the mirror showed I'd gained seventy five yards or so in the turn, but they were making it up, the Jeep loaded with five men not being much of a challenge acceleration-wise. Paying too much attention to our pursuer, I left it too late, not having enough room for the straight line braking. I carried too much velocity into the next turn, an constant radius left. I stayed on the brake too long, too hard, and the rear drifted out on me, putting the car into an oversteer skid. Turning into it quickly, she responded and came back around. I met her, unwinding the steering in response and giving her a pause to let the suspension go neutral before applying anymore inputs. She didn't need anymore. I do love stiff suspensions. I'd made up some of the distance I'd lost on the last straight. Luckily that was the last one for a while. There wasn't much I could do about the lack of ponies, but I could sure work on out driving the son of a bitch.

 

Zengunfighter you have a great eye for detail. This really adds substance to your writing. Thanks
GB