Original Work The Unwelcome Sign

Ok then... I guess you'll continue ON?
As an aside, you have made Zed human... introduced frailties and made the story more real. All of us have second thoughts, but a warrior cannot afford them, at least, not when the battle is joined. Second thoughts, for a warrior are the 6 P's... Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance.
But, to know that Zed is just like the rest of us, is heartwarming, and gives the story a depth few authors can reach down and grab ahold of.

Ok, now enough with the cry baby crap...

 

Still reading and wanting more.

Whynot

 

Great story!!!

 

I'm still here, and reading.

 

I have been enjoying your novella...as undoubtedly many others have also.

 

dear zengunfighter...this is a GREAT STORY.love.john

 

Loving every minute of it. Waiting for every new chapter like Christmas morning.

 

I'm hangin' in there like a hair in a biscuit!!! Keep up the good writing...

 

Sorry I don't write too often I only have dialup at home right now I'm at a place with WI-FI so I can write this reply to you,please keep up the excelent work!! I've read many stories (print & online) and you'res is up there with some of the best ( in my opinion ). I've had to download the last few posts so I could read them later offline. Please don't stop writing!!

 

When was the last time you though about getting dressed? Oh, you might think about what you're going to put on, but you don't think about the act of dressing, you just do it. You've been practicing all your life, so you're pretty good at. You've achieved mindless mastery.
Until you lose the use of one hand.
I pulled my pants up with my left hand and then fumbled around until I got the snap to take, then get the zipper up.
You can look at a person's belt and tell if they are left or right handed. The end of the belt will point to the support side of the body. So a righty's belt end will be on the left.
What do you do when you're a righty with only a left hand? I thought about more than I should have and decided that I was a temporary lefty and started threading my belt in on the right, feeding the holster and mag pouches on as I went. I deleted the right hand holster and substituted a double mag holder in its place.
Threading the end of the belt through the buckle, I fidgeted around until I managed to figure out how to pull tension on it and get the bar through the hole.
Thumb at the top of the back strap, fingers wrapped around the slide. Squeezing my hand together pulled the slide back far enough that I could do a chamber check. Letting the slide forward, I pushed on the back of the slide with my thumb to make sure it was fully in battery, and snicked the pistol into its holster.
I did a half dozen dry draws to make sure the holster was in the right place and to put it in my mind that the pistol was in a different location.
I've trained to use long guns with either hand only, but it was always less than optimal. Looked like I was going to be a pistolero until my right arm healed. My mind's eye furnished me with an unbidden image of the black line up my arm of blood poisoning, of a swollen, greenish-yellow gangrenous arm, and on to a stump.
I physically shook my head to rid it of those pictures, the ancient, superstitious part of my brain believing that thinking about it would bring it about.
Being relegated to pistol use only, I switched out some of the mags in the pouches from the normal capacity to the thirty two round 'happy sticks. They had to go into the holders on my sides, they stuck up too far for them to be comfortable on the front of my body.
Easing my injured gingerly though the strap, I managed to get my back pack up an on my back and headed out the door.
“You!”
Fiona ran at me as soon as she spotted me. I instinctively brought both arms up to protect me from the blows she was raining on me. One made contact on my wounded arm, the resulting pain dropping me to my knees.
“You bastard!” The flurry of fists continued, mostly on my shoulders and back as I knelt crouching on the floor of Jacob's living room. Springing forward, I hit her knees, knocking her off her feet. I scrambled on top of her and managed to gather up both her wrists in my left hand.
“Stop! Stop it! NOW!” I yelled into her face at the top of my lungs trying to break through her OODA loop. The last 'NOW' got through to her and the struggle to punch me subsided.
It didn't last long.
“Get off of me!” She started bucking, hitting my back with her knees. I moved back on her legs to stop the blows to my back. When she stopped, I struggled to my feet.
I almost made it.
Fiona timed her last kick well, kneeing me in the crotch. I fell over on my side, curled in a ball of pain.
“Bitch!” Sadie had been outside talking with someone about the gardening. She heard the commotion and came running in just as Fiona was getting to her feet. Seeing me on the ground she knew what had just happened. She grabbed a handful of hair, pulling her head back, her body almost off balance.
Sadie was bringing her arm back for a punch when Daniels and Sandy intervened, separating the two of them. They glared at each other, then Sadie shrugged free from the restraining hand and helped me to a chair.
I was finally starting to breath again, the pain in my arm and the center of my body, retreating to a dull ache.
“What's wrong with you?” Sadie spat at Fiona, who pointed an accusing finger at me.
“He almost killed Jacob! He's just a boy!”
“He's old enough for you to screw!”
“That's different!”
“Is it? Is he a man, or not?”
“Stop it. Please.” I managed to croak out, which pulled their attention from each other to me. “I came over here to check on him. How is he?”
“He's still alive. No thanks to you!”
“What's his prognosis?” I tried to ignore the attitude.
“He's in critical condition, but stable.” The door to the treatment room opened and Dr. Shoemacher came out. “I've done all I can for him at this point. He needs to rest. Being young and in good shape are on his side. Infection is my biggest worry. Speaking of which, come in here so I can look at your arm.” He turned and went back into the room and I followed.
He closed the door behind me. I moved up to the side of the bed. Jacob looked small. Pale and frail. “Has been conscious at all, since he's been back?”
“No. Thank God. Rest is critical right now. Being unconscious, his body can work on that without interruptions or distractions. Here. Sit.” He changed the subject to me. I sat where he indicated and waited while he checked my vitals.
“BP and heart rate are up.”
“Not surprising, considering.
“No. No, I suppose not.” He shut me up by sticking a thermometer in my mouth. Gingerly, he held up my arm and carefully cut away the dressing. Peeling the last little bit away, the gauze stuck a little to the wound, plastered there, not by blood, but by dried pus.
The area around the wound was black and blue, the edges of the wound itself was red and slightly inflamed. Doc pressed his glove covered fingers around it. I winced while runny, watery pus ran from the hole in my arm.
He sniffed at the wound and crinkled his nose at the result. Pulling the thermometer from my mouth, he frowned when he looked at it.
“What?”
“Your starting to run a fever.”
“What? I don't feel hot.”
“It's only one hundred right now. The area around the wound it hot too. Have you been taking the antibiotics I gave Sadie?”
“Yeah, I sure have.”
“Let's up the dose a bit.” He rinsed the wound out and packed it with antibiotic ointment before covering it up again. “This gets checked and changed every four to six hours until I say otherwise. And you need to rest and take it easy.”
“I don't have time to take it easy!”
“Wanna lose the arm?”
That shut me up.
“Then you need to rest and give your body a chance to fight that infection.
I stood and moved closer to the bed where Jacob lay, wan, a lock of hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. I reached out, but stopped half way. Not sure if I should touch him. Not sure if I deserved to.
“It's OK. It's good for him to have contact.”
I let my hand complete it's interrupted journey and brushed the wisp of hair back to join the rest, repeating the movement, and then leaving my hand on the top of his head.
“I'm sorry. I screwed up. This shouldn't have happened. I got you hurt..”
Doc came up and stopped me. The touch is good. The negative vibes aren't.
I nodded my understanding and dropped my hand from Jacob's head to his hand, picking up the one closest to me. It was cool and dry. I held it while I watched him. He seemed to be breathing easily and his face was relaxed.
Giving his hand a final squeeze I set it back down on the bed gently. Looking up I saw Fiona had opened the door quietly and was standing in the doorway, looking at me.
I turned from the bed and walked to the door, Fiona dropping back to let me past.
I picked up my pack to put it on.
“Where do you think you're going?”
“I need to talk with Lavell, Sweetie. I need to know what's going on.”
“He can come down here to talk to you. You're going to sit outside, put your feet up, and not move. You hear me?”
“Yes Sweetie.”
I walked to the front door. “Daniels, come and talk to me a moment.”
He followed me out and waited patiently while I settled in and Sadie fussed over me.
“What can you tell me?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want to know?”
“Is the drone showing anything?”
“No. Everything's been quiet.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Lavell took a patrol out early this morning. They should be back by now. Juice, Leslie, Stan, and Lyle are all at the upper chicane.”
“Has there been a threat?”
“No. They're just being careful, with what happened yesterday.”
“What's the general mood of the people?”
“I'm not sure I'm the person to ask”
“It's all right, just your general impression.”
“People are worried, but hell, they've been worried right along, ever since this started. They were hopeful when you went out, but now they don't know how that went, so the speculation is running wild. Everything from you and Jacob wiped out the gang bangers to all you did was make them angry and they are going to attack us.”
I brooded on that for a moment. I guess I couldn't blame them. Hell, I didn't have the answers to those questions, and I was there.
“Has anyone talked to Fatumpkin recently?”
“I don't think so. He's being fed, and he's constantly bitching because he says we're not giving him enough to eat. He says he's in pain from hunger.”
“Good. That'll give me an edge when I talk to him.”
A group of people was coming down the hill, the noise of their footfalls drawing our attention. They looked hot and sweaty but had a bit of a spring in their step. They came on, and when they reached the edge of Jacob's property, they split, Lavell detaching himself from them when he saw me and heading my direction.
“How you feeling, Boss?”
I let the title go. “Beat up, sore, on edge and my arm aches plenty. Other than that, I'm good. You?”
“Better than you, by the sounds of it. Listen, I knew you'd want intell, so I just led a quick patrol over to the Frenchies to debrief them.”
“Did you? Thanks, that'll be useful. What did you find out?”
Lavell looked around quickly. “You want to wait for everyone, or do you want me to report to you first?”
“Give me watch you got. We'll need to have a meeting later. I'll go over the broad strokes and you can fill in the blank spaces if needed. So have a seat and spill it.”

 

Thanks Zen, you just made my evening.

 

Lavell set his gear on the ground next to him, used his shemaugh to wipe the sweat off his brow, and flopped in a lawn chair next to me, punctuating it with a “whew”
“So, what did you find out there? Where did you go?”
He took his time getting some water down his throat, and deflected with a question of his own. “You OK? How's the arm?”
“I've been better. The arm really aches, but I can manage.”
He finished another swallow and made a show of screwing the lid of his water bottle back on.
“How's Jacob? I stopped in this morning, early, and couldn't find anyone to tell me. Doc was in with him and I didn't want to disturb him.”
“Critical, but stable, as of a few minutes ago. Infection is the main concern at this point.” I hung my head, distressed at the reminder of my protege’s condition.
“You think you're the first leader to lose one of his men?”
I didn't respond. I didn't have anything to say. And I wasn't in the mood. If you ever can be in the mood for having someone criticize your actions.
“Listen” He paused, and didn't continue until I raised my eyes to his. “I'm sorry. I know it sucks. I know he means a lot to you. And you may lose him. You need to be ready for him to die. But he ain't dead yet. You two did some good work.”
I cut him off. “Good work? I thought getting rid of Threeballz would make us safer. That it would stop the attack that we knew was coming.”
“You did!”
“Someone else picked up the reins as soon as Threeballz was down. He'd probably been waiting for his chance at the leadership for who knows how long? Probably even before the beginning of this crap.”
“You need to pull yourself together. Before people see you this way.”
“What way?” I snapped.
“Like a whiny little bitch. They need a leader. They are depending on you. They take their cues from you.”
“Well, then they're going to be disappointed. I've let them down and they'd be better off with someone else.”
“Gaaa! I'd slap you if it wasn't such a movie cliche'. Wake up, Zed! You're our leader. Like it or not. Doesn't matter how you got the position. You have the people's respect.”
“I'm sure there are people that don't like me.”
“Not the same thing. They can hate you, that's fine, as long as they respect you. And they do. But not if they see you acting like a little bitch.”
I didn't respond, just stared off into the bush. Lavell let the moment go for a few seconds.
“So, you ready for my report?”
I nodded unenthusiastically, knowing that accepting his report meant I was accepting the continued leadership.
“I took a group out on patrol this morning. We went out to the western Frenchie road block at Four Corners.”
I snapped a look at Lavell. He got the implicit questions.
“It's really not that far, and I think we need to patrol that far out every day.”
“Probably, and in the other direction too, something we've been neglecting. But it's a drain on our resources.”
Lavell grinned and nodded to himself, obviously self satisfied. I guess he was proud of himself for drawing me out.
“So what did the Frenchies say?”
“I wanted to get an after action report. You guys took off quickly to get Jacob back here, so we don't really know what happened.”
I got quiet, remembering the desperate events of the morning. Was it only yesterday?
“How many gang bangers do you think you took out?”
I thought about it, then answered slowly. “Threeballz, and a guy that was trying to spot us with binoculars at the mansion. Then there was the fight in the gut, one...two..three” I ticked them off in my head as I pictured the fight in my head.
“I doubt the booby trap hurt anyone. I don't know the count at our last ambush site. There was too much going on and a lot of them were pretty far away. I know of four or five for sure.”
“Fourteen”
I just looked at him.
“The Frenchies figure you and Jacob took out fourteen of the gang bangers at the ambush. That's not counting the ones that they took out when they arrived. That was another six. And you managed to take out one of the group of the flankers. With your pistol, I guess?”
I answered with a cross between a shiver and a shrug.
“So, let's see, you killed the leader of the gang at his house, then eliminated another two dozen of his group. That's huge!”
“Was there a short, large guy? Reminded me of a fire hydrant.”
“I didn't see the bodies so I don't know. Why?”
“He's the one that took over when I dropped Threeballz.”
“I don't know. Didn't know to ask. We'll check on our next patrol. But damn, you took out the leadership and twenty five of the gang members. That has to have hurt them. Rendered them combat ineffective.”
“You're thinking in terms of modern warfare, where thiry percent casualties would do that. I think the gang is still dangerous.”
Again with the self satisfied smirk.
“I don't like being played.”
“What?” He shrugged his shoulders, holding his palms up. I just glared at him.
“Ok, Ok. I needed your head back in the game. I agree, while you kicked their asses, they are potentially still a threat. And sooner, rather than later.”
“We need to talk to the Pillsbury Dough Dude, get a better handle on numbers, then we'll know what kind of damage you did to them. That'll help us plan.
“Agreed. Look. I know you're upset because of Jacob. I get it. Believe me, I get it. But we were under direct threat by that gang. Something needed to be done.”
“Did it? Maybe we should have waited for them to come to us. The defender has the tactical advantage.”
“You don't believe that. Taking the fight to them was perfect! Now they know they aren't safe. You've rocked them back on their heels. And if they'd come here, I guarantee that more people would have gotten hurt. Stop beating yourself up. Answer me this; if Jacob hadn't been hurt, how would you feel about the mission?”
I looked him in the eyes for a moment, then back to the formless green background of the bush and pondered his question. I was surprised that someone took control of the gang so quickly. I was not expecting that. But we had hit them where they live, and Jake and I had whittled their numbers down substantially. Whether or not it was enough to prevent an attack, if they did come, it would be with much reduced numbers.
“Alright, I'll buy that. Now, tell me, what else did the Frenchies have to say?”
“They picked up a lot of equipment from your battlefield. They figure a lot of it belongs to you. They have about two dozen long guns. Mostly Ars, but some UMPs and Aks mixed in. Bunches of pistols. Lots of ammo.”
“Let them keep half of it. I like the idea of the people on our flanks being well armed. We need to train them up on them. A lot of them are goat hunters, but have no experience with this type of weaponry.”
“Ok. We'll deal with that tomorrow. Oh! I've got another piece of information, but this isn't about the Frenchies.”
“I hope it's some good news. I could sure use something to cheer me up.”
“I'm not sure if it's good or bad.” I looked at him expectantly and he continued. “Several people came out of their houses to talk to us as we went by. They wanted to talk to us.”
“That's never happened before.”
“No. They were too scared before. But they watched us go by. After a couple of times I guess their curiosity got the better of them and they felt safe enough to make contact.”
“So, what did they want?”
“Lot's of stuff. Information. They wanted to know what was going on, locally of course, but what had caused this.”
“Makes sense, with no contact with anyone else they have to be dying to know what's happing.”
“I'm not sure I'd use that term, but yeah. They also wanted food.”
“Once again, not surprising. They looking for handouts?”
“They don't know. They know they need to eat, but don't know what to do about it.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Nothing really. I pushed them off and told them we'd get back to them.”
“You did, eh?”
“What they were really looking for was security. I think that's what really brought them out to talk to us. We're obviously not cops, but we look like we know what we're doing, and that we can take care of ourselves.”
“Ok. And?”
“They want us to protect them.”
“What?”
Lavell shrugged his shoulders. It was above his pay grade.
“They want us to protect them. How are we going to do that? We can barely protect ourselves!”
“Just relaying what we saw and heard on the patrol, Boss.”
“Alright, sorry for jumping down your throat. Did you promise them anything?”
“Do I look stupid?” He smiled at me to take the edge off the remark.
“I can't stop saying the wrong thing, can I?” I smiled back, holding up my side.
While my initial reaction was strongly against the notion, now that I'd had a moment to think about it, I started to see the possibilities. Possibilities which turned into opportunities.
“Anything else I should know?”
“About the patrol? No, that's it.”
“What about our defensive position?”
“Pretty good, and getting better every day. We keep tweaking the positions, and the training program is ongoing. Moral could be better.”
“How so?”
“You went out on a big mission and come back shot up with Jacob severly wounded. Everybody knows that. They either saw you came in, or talked to someone who did. What they don't know is if you accomplished anything and if we are safer or in more danger.”
“Start spreading the word then. Let them know what went down.”
“No sir. That's your job. They need to hear it from you. Sooner is better than later.”
“No pressure, eh? Thanks.”
“That's why I'm just a sergeant. Motivation for me is a boot in the ass. I never was any good at that cheer leading stuff.”
“Are you accusing me of being a pom-pom wielder, sergeant?”
“Sir! No sir!”
“Cut the shit. I get your point. I'll speak to the folks soon. Will you have a little talk with our resident Blob about the gang numbers and let me know what you find out?”
“With pleasure. How long we keeping him around, anyway?”
“Don't know. I don't guess he'll be much use, much longer. Not sure what to do after that. Well, you handle that, and I'll work on what I'm going to tell people. I appreciate the report.”
Lavell got up to leave, reaching down for his gear, he shrugged into it.
“Lavell?”
“Zed?”
“Thanks”
“For what?”
“Just...Thanks.”
He turned and started walking, raising a hand in a combination of good bye and your welcome. He was a bit slow turning though. I saw the grin start before he'd turned all the way away from me.

 

Great story @Zengunfighter. A very interesting and entertaining read!

 

Communications is and always has been the key to command…and we do be getting some words heah…yes, words to build on; awesome.

 

Ok, we've established that you have an audience greater than FIVE, but, they are mostly cowards unwilling to pop up out of the weeds and give you your due.

The Way of the Warrior; know thy enemy, but first, know thy self.

 

I walked up the hill to the upper roadblock. Lavell was running people through various drills, getting them ready to defend the neighborhood. Scrambles to man the barricade, getting into various pre-made fighting positions, to fire and maneuver to deal with flanking threats, to fighting retreats. I watched for a while, pleased with the progress. The people were moving well, with little wasted motion or time.
I was also glad to see that they took to the training with good attitudes. They were hot and sweaty, but were doggedly determined. It was obvious they new the importance of what they were doing.
Lavell saw them starting to lag on the last drill and realized he shouldn't push them any further. “Take a break people! Get something to drink.”
They congregated around the water cooler, a five gallon jug wrapped in cloth that was kept wet. The evaporation cooled the water about ten degrees, enough to make it much more refreshing.
When they'd all gotten their fill, and settled down into little groups, I moved up. I got water from the same cooler that they had, even though my water bottles were full, and took a long drink. I noted that the conversations had slowed and stopped as more and more people noticed me.
When I had everyone's attention I moved in front of them. “People, you've done a great job here! Outstanding! The defensive works and your tireless training put us in a much safer position in what has become a dangerous world with new rules.”
I noticed people coming out of nearby houses, coming to listen, and I paused a moment for them to join us.
“I hate that this is even necessary. I wish things were back to normal. I miss being thankful that it's Friday, and grumbling because it's Monday.” That brought chuckles and some whispered joking amongst the group.
“But we don't always get what we want, do we?”
“No.”
“Amen, brother.”
“You've got that right”
“So what do we do? Sit back and complain? While that's the easy thing, it also doesn't get anything done. And nobody's going to do it for us. Nobody's coming to save us, take care of us.”
“And you've demonstrated to me we can take care of ourselves. I can't tell you how proud I am of you all. Difficult circumstances bring out the best and worst in people. We've all seen that, before, right? Think back to some of the hurricanes we've been through.”
“Uh-huh”
“That's right”
“And this horrible situation has brought out the best in us. We are providing for our own defense, and our own food. It's been a struggle, but we're managing. We've met some serious challenges, and there will be more ahead. Can I count on you to help me meet them?”
The crowd, which was growing bigger, responded positively. I looked at the faces of the people. They were hot and tired and worried. But they were also proud and resolute and determined. Struggle and hard work build character, and that was what I was seeing.
“We've met several attacks to our community already. There may be more in future. Most, if not all, of those attacks have come from one place, the Kirwin Terrace gang. What's worse is that they have merged with some government forces. Mr. Grey and some police officers have thrown in with them. They have gotten arms and ammunition from government stores.”
There were groans and murmurs of concern.
“It also seems that Mr. Grey, and to some extent the government, although I'm not sure to what level, gave out food to certain people to store, to stockpile. Our own Carol was one of those. Most of you know that story.”
People were shaking their heads and making short, angry comments to each other. I let them go for a minute until they settled down and were ready to pay attention to me again.
“That was bad enough, but the head of the gang, a man going by the nickname “Threeballz'” That brought a round of snickering. “He found out about these stockpiles and decided he wanted them for himself. He came here a couple of days ago and Detective Johns bravely stood them down, at great cost to himself.”
“How's he doing?” someone in the crowd interrupted me.
“He's on the mend, but it will be a slow road. He and his family could use your thoughts and prayers.”
“Could they use a hand? Or some food?” Sounded like a different person.
“I'm sure they could and that is nice of you to offer. See me after and we'll talk about it”
“While we scared them off, I knew it was just a temporary relief. I knew they'd be back. And I didn't want you to have to deal with that.”
“We're not scared of no gang bangers!”
“That's right!”
“We kicked their ass before!”
“We did. You're absolutely right. But that was only a few, and they weren't expecting a fight. If Threeballz and his men came back, there would have been fifty of them, all well armed, and knowing a little of our lay out here. We probably would have won. Probably. But we would have taken some casualties. So I took the fight to them. I thought if I took out Threeballz, it would solve our problem. That was probably naieve of me, but there you have it.
Jacob and I went out and I shot Threeballz from a distance. Man did that stir up a hornet's nest! We barely got out of there alive!”
“We heard about Jacob, will he make it?”
I took a big breath and let it out slow, looking at the faces as I did. “It's in God's hands. When I left to come here he was in critical but stable condition. He sure could use your prayers.”
Jacob put his life on the line for his neighbors. He and I fought off the gang bangers that came after us. We ran a fighting retreat, hitting them and scooting, until we couldn't out run them anymore. We set up an ambush to hit them as hard as we could. It was our 'last stand'.”
I paused for breath and for effect. The crowd was transfixed, spellbound. Everyone loves the underdog fighting against impossible odds. From Thermopolyae to Dien Ben Phu, we are amazed at the bravery of those who stood in the breach to stem the tide. I was banking on that history.
Two car loads of 'bangers attacked us and Jake and I held them off. Taking the drivers out first and putting out a withering fire we kept them pinned. One by one we eliminated them. We just put paid to the last two when the gang members in a third SUV flanked us. Jacob was hit immediately, a bullet entering the armpit area that wasn't covered by his armor. He was knocked over immediately.”
there were gasps and expressions of sympathy at that news. I held up my injured arm.
“I took a minor wound at the same time. Things were looking pretty grim, and I started thinking that was it. I'd gotten Jacob and myself killed and hadn't finished the job we'd set out to do.
“But we were rescued. Some of our people, joined by our French amis, caught the flankers in the rear and wiped them out to a man.”
I had to wait more than a minute for the cheers and hub-bub to settle down.
“Do you want the good news first, or the bad?” I couldn't get a consensus, so I went with my preference.
“The bad news is that the gang bangers are still out there. They still know we're here. I don't know if we bloodied their nose badly enough that they will leave us alone or not. But tomorrow, next week, or next month, they're going to be back.”
The crowd grew sober. One person remembered, and called out, “What's the good news?”
“We kicked their asses! We took out their top leader, IN THEIR OWN HOME!” Again I had to wait for them to quiet down. “We cut their numbers in half, about equal to our numbers. We also captured more weapons and ammo. A couple of days ago we were under direct threat from a large, well armed gang of criminals. We've hurt them badly, we've put them on the defensive. We are in a much better position than we were.”
I paused again for all of that to sink in. I had their attention. There was no talking, just expectant faces watching me.
“It's not over people. We need to keep working. We need to keep training. We need to be ready to fight. We won't let them victimize us! We won't let Jacob's sacrifice be in vain. We will win! ARE. YOU. WITH. ME?”
“Yes!”
“ARE. YOU. WITH. ME?”
“YES!”
I held their gaze, looking each one in the eye. One by one. Connecting. Bonding.
“May God bless us all”
I turned and moved away, and started down the hill, back home. Lavell caught up with me.
“They needed that.”
“God but I hate doing it.” staring at the ground ahead of me as I walked
Lavell looked at me quizzically. “But you're good at it.
“And that's why I hate it.”

 

"God but do I hate having to wait for the next page…"

 

The mark of a true leader, is the man born to it, yet hates its necessity.
Integrity is linked to ... humility.
We could use more of that in places like DC, but, funny, that place attracts nothing but threeballz types...
PS: You'll have to excuse me... I'm a little (hmmm, a lot.) pissed off right now at the Feds, in particular the VA.
Deceitful bastards.. Zed, kill em all and "let God sort 'em out."

 

Zen, I joined this site to write this reply. My YouTube account has been messed up since Google decided to harass everyone who didn't want to merge their YT accounts with a Google account or I would have messaged your account on YouTube to tell you I have been following your story avidly for months. A member on another forum (not a survival forum) turned us on to your work. I know one rather talkative fellow in this thread is a member there. I don't plan on posting anymore as I'm a misanthropic type who is fundamentally opposed to most people surviving anything so take massive amounts of encouragement from this one. I truly hate joining anything or making my presence known so my joining and posting should be a measure of how much your writing is appreciated and anticipated.

 

Welcome to SM Tywin. Tyrion has also noted your presence. Motivational Poster Thread (warning content) | Page 450 post#4497.

I'm having a GOTs marathon this evening with my younger sons.

Appreciate your support for Zen.