Original Work The Unwelcome Sign

Here's another 3000 words. It'll have to hold you through the weekend.
I took the bag of food from the guard and handed it to the wife. “This should help for a couple of days. Go on home, look for the patrols. I'll send a message by them to let you know what we can work out. OK?”
The husband nodded his thanks and wanted to shake my hand, which I did, hurrying, hating even such a small delay. Turning to the guard, “Keep on your post. Stay alert, just in the off chance the boats are a diversion or an attack comes from two locations.”
“Yes sir, I'll do my job. Count on it”
“I know you will.” I clapped him on the shoulder, wincing because I forgot and used my right arm. I ran down the hill, tough enough under normal conditions, but each time a foot hit the ground, it sent a jolt of pain through my arm. Holding it in front of my chest helped some, but made running awkward.
We left the lower, first chicane empty for lack of people to man it, relegating it to a fall back position, but it was still all set up. I scrambled into the observation post and hit the button for the car horn. Within a handful of seconds a person who had been working nearby showed up. She had a pistol on her belt, not one of the people equipped with a rifle.
“What's happening, Zed?”
“boats down below us, not sure who they are. Stay here and man the OP. When others show up, send the people with rifles to my house.” I pointed up the road, in the off chance she didn't know where that was. “keep the rest here until we know more.”
I was surprised to not see anyone at Jacob's house as I ran past. The alarm should have brought them out. Then I realized that they probably knew about the boats before I did.
Rounding the bend I could finally see my house. Still no evidence of anyone, not even the dogs. Through the gate and across the yard, I entered my house and could see through it to the balcony, which was crowded with people. Stan, Lyle, Wilford, and Denise were all there. The dogs were the first to notice me, with Sadie picking it up from them. She turned to me just as I came out on the balcony.
“What's going on?”
“I saw these boats come in a few minutes ago. I ran to Jacob's to get someone to tell you. These guys came back with me.”
“Who is it? Can you tell?”
“I think It's Frank in one boat but I'm not sure.”
That news lifting my spirits. I'd been worrying about him and his family, even if that worry was buried under a pile of other concerns that took precedence. I pulled the binoculars off a nearby peg and scanned the boats below.
They were at the entrance to the cove, bobbing in the waves, not making way. Yes! Frank was in the first boat I looked at. His wife and son were there also. Frank was leaning over the transom, examining the engines, which would explain why he wasn't moving.
Switching to the other boat, I saw another sight to make my heart glad. Virgil and his family. What was strange was Virgil too, was checking his engine. I noticed that he kept glancing up nervously, out to sea.
Frank was doing the same. Looking a little closer, I started picking up more detail, like the bullet holes in the plexiglass windshield in front of the center console.
“There! Look!” Stan was point to the east, where a third boat was approaching. The binoculars brought it ten times closer to my eyes and I could see half a dozen well armed men in uniform. U.S. Military.
“I think that's National Guard.”
“I hope they got the people that attacked Frank and Virgil.”
I watched as they narrowed the distance to my friends, who stopped working on their engines and picked up their rifles. Virgil's wife ran to the stern with her own rifle.
Frank gave a quick glance up towards us. The distance was three hundred yards, but I waved anyway, figuring Frank's phenomenal vision would pick it up. I don't know if he did or not, as he hunkered down between the twin engines, sticking his M4's barrel between them.
Turning my attention to the third boat, five of the men brought their rifles up. I saw the flash of the muzzle blasts and then the sound reached me. They were shooting at my friends! At women and children!
I was shaken out of my temporary inaction by the return fire from the boats. The National Guard had opened fire too early, at around three hundred yards. Shooting at one moving object while you are moving, at distance, is pretty difficult. I was relieved to see that they were only armed with M4s. Just one M240 would have made this a very lopsided fight.
I was just about to tell my folks to open fire when Sadie's rifle barked.
“Whoa! What are you doing?” Denise yelled. “Those guys are National Guard!”
“And those are our friends they're shooting at.” Sadie looked up from the stock of her rifle at Denise. “Nobody shoots at my friends if I have anything to say about it!” Having said her piece, her cheek went back on the stock as she took aim and fired another careful round at the National Guard boat.
That seemed to over come any objections anyone had and they brought their rifles to bear, using the railing as a brace to steady their aim. I didn't have my rifle, and didn't want to take the time to get it. I wouldn't be very effective one handed anyway.
The National Guard boat was six hundred yards away and two hundred feet below us. Our .223s could reach, but it was a stretch. Using the binoculars I could see our impacts on the water, several feet shy of the waterline.
“You're hitting low!” I yelled above the firing. “Raise up four or five feet!”
The Guard boat was now less than a hundred yards from my friends. That was probably a mistake. Almost simultaneously one guardsman pitched over backwards, while another dropped his rifle, his right arm dangling uselessly at his side. Getting that close to Frank and Virgil's rifles wasn't a smart move. Not only were they crack shots, they'd spent the better part of their lives on the ocean, it's movement second nature to them.
We seemed to have found the range, and I could see more and more bullets impacting the boat. The guardsmen finally noticed that they were taking fire from the land. The helmsman looked right at me. I don't know if he could actually see us at this distance, but he swung the boat over in a tight turn. Time to run away.
“Aim for the pilot!”
I watched as the helm got chewed to shreds. The pilot hunkered down as best he could. He was relatively safe from Frank and Virgil's fire, but not from ours. We poured round after round down into the boat.
The pilot flinched as a bullet found him, then again, and again. He tried to hold on to the wheel as he sank down, pulling it round into a right hand turn before finally letting go.
There seemed to be only two other men moving on the boat. One died as he tried to take control of the helm. The other kept scrambling around the center console of the boat as it turned, trying to stay behind it and out of our fire. I suppressed a giggle as it reminded me of a nursery rhyme. “all around the mulberry bush...”
That worked for a couple of revolutions, but he'd forgotten about the other boats. On the third circle, Frank had a shot, and he took it.
The guardsman jerked as the rifle bullet struck him. He looked down at the hole in his chest, then over to Frank's boat. Even at a distance I could tell that he thought it was an unfair thing for Frank to do.
We stopped firing and stood, stunned. We'd just killed a bunch of National Guardsmen.
“I hope there was a very good reason for doing that.” It wasn't a stretch to think that Denise would have issues shooting at people that wore the same uniform that she had.
“Those are our good friends. Beyond that I trust them, those men were shooting a women and children. What good guys do that?” Sadie reasoned.
“The women and children are the only thing I have to go on here. I hope we haven't made a terrible mistake.”
“Hey! What's he doing?” Stan pointed at Frank's boat, just in time for us to see him hit the water in a shallow dive. He surfaced and started stroking towards the guard's boat.
“I'm guessing he's going to use that boat seeing as his and Virgil's are dead in the water. If they don't get them under tow soon, they'll end up on the rocks on the point.”
“Since when does the National Guard have boats?” Stan wanted to know.
“They don't. Navy won't let them. And we have the Coast Guard and Customs and Boarder Protection for seaborne work around here.” Lyle replied as he switched out a partial mag for a full one.
“Looks like a civilian craft.” I watched as Frank approached the boat, staying out side of it's turn until the time was right, then, as it past, swimming inside the circle. “How's he going to pull that off?” Stan voiced what we all wondered.
Frank tread water, watching, spinning around to keep the boat in view. After a moment he'd come to a decision, and he slowly stroked out toward the inside diameter of the circle.
The boat was making about fifteen knots. I figured out what he was going to do. It was risky, but if anyone could do it, it would be Frank. The Guardsmen were obviously not boaters, and they had left the bumpers dangling over the side of the boat.
The craft passed within five feet of Frank as he bobbed patiently, turning, judging the distances. As it came around again, he made on large effort, swimming hard and at the last minute lunging upwards.
The bumper slid from his grasp and we all groaned out loud, half expecting him to end up sliced to ribbons by the twin screws.
Instead, he was suddenly being dragged through the water. We lost sight of him for a moment as the boat in its turn hid him from view. When he reemerged he was fighting his way up the rope that had been dangling next to the bumper.
Thank God for landlubbers.
The water was spinning him around. Hard enough to pull yourself up a rope, the resistance of water flowing past you at fifteen knots wasn't helping. But hand after hand, Frank pulled himself up the rope. As he got more of his body out of the water, the job got easier.
We let out a collective breath we didn't know we were holding when he finally heaved himself over the gunnels and flopped onto the deck exhausted.
He didn't stay there long, recovering quickly, he picked himself up and stepping over bodies he made his way to the console where he pulled the twin throttles back to idle, and put the transmission into neutral.
The boat rocked in the seas as Frank checked all the bodies. He stripped them of gear quickly and one by one, dragged them to the transom. Running back to the bow he grabbed the anchor, dragging its ten feet of chain and the anchor line behind him. Wrapping the line around the ankles of the first body, he heaved overboard. I noted that he did it on the far side, out of view of the other boats. I assumed he didn't want the children to have to see that.
Each body got a wrap of rope before going over board. The anchor went last, hopefully to keep the bodies under long enough for the ocean to take care of them.
That done, he found a bucket and sluiced out the majority of the blood, the scuppers running red. Finally he returned to the center console and reengaged the transmission and eased in some throttle.
The boat returned to its circle. I watched as Frank turned the steering wheel, but the craft didn't respond to the helm. I'm afraid one or more of our shots damaged the steering.
He moved back to the engines and pushed on them, the muscles in his back bunching with the strain. They moved a little. He redoubled his efforts and was rewarded with move movement. When they were almost straight, he went back to the helm, shooting a worried look over his shoulder. His boat was less than fifty yards from the western point, and the sharp rocks lurking just under the water, ready to tear the bottom from a boat. The two knot current was pushing them relentlessly towards them.
Putting one engine in reverse, and the other forward, Frank used the engines to turn the boat towards his family. Once the bow was pointed correctly, he put them both forward, alternating the throttle from one to the other to make steering corrections.
As he neared his own boat, his wife, Leia, stood by with a line. Frank put the engines in neutral as he neared to twenty feet, the current pushing the closer. Frank was looking into the water around the two drifting boats, the look of concern visible even at this distance.
At fifteen feet, Leia felt confident to throw the line. She waited too long. As the rope left her hands and sailed toward Frank, the boat ran aground on the rocks, the sudden change in motion knocking her from her feet and she disappeared from my view.
Running the line around a cleat, Frank put the throttles in reverse. Nothing happened and he moved the throttles further, the propellers digging in, pulling the stern down. The boat moved, and then some more, and then was free.
Leia reappeared, holding her head for a moment, but then waving that she was OK. That didn't last long.
Looking down she shouted to Frank who brought the two craft together so he could look. At this point I could see a couple of inches of water sloshing around Leia's feet.
Looking from the deck to Virgil's boat, drifting seventy five yards off, he made a decision. Throttles back in, he pulled his damaged craft next to Virgil's. With engine steering only, it was quite a feat of boat handling.
As the crippled craft came up to him, Virgil stepped nimbly across with a line, making it fast. Frank joined them and they frantically started moving stuff from it to the other boat.
Twice Frank had to abandon them to go back to the guardsmens' boat and pull them a bit further from the looming rocks.
Done, they cast the damaged boat loose and worked on towing Virgil's boat to shore. We'd all been transfixed by the drama that unfolded in front of us. Our reverie was broken by the barking of our dogs. I went to the yard to look and found members of Lyle and Stan's teams outside the gate. I gave them a brief rundown on what had happened and told them to meet us at Jacob's.
“Ok guys! Showtime's over. Lets get down there to the beach a give those folks a hand.”
On the way to Jacob's I had a chance to think. It was obvious that our friends brought a bunch of stuff with them. We'd need vehicles more than bodies and I didn't want to leave our neighborhood undefended.
“I think it's best if most of you stay here. I'd like to reinforce the upper chicane. Stan, how 'bout you take your team up there? Lyle, hang loose here, ready to move if anything develops. Put a person up on the knoll to keep an eye on the ocean.”
“Are you expecting more trouble?” Wilford asked
“Sure. I don't know if there's another boat out there. If there is, we'll need back up on the beach. Or maybe there's a ground element of the Guard that's followed along inland.”
They all grew grave at the though of dealing with a National Guard unit.
“That's unlikely, but let's be ready for it. Denise? Why don't you drive Doc's pick up and I take Juices and we'll head down to the beach and collect our friends.”
“Yeah, I saw that woman take a fall. I'd should check her out.”
“Is that all you're bringing?” I knew that tone from Sadie. I was messing up somehow.
“Yes. I don't want to take too many people away from here in case they are needed.”
“You don't think it's important to get Frank and them off the beach as quick as possible?”
“Well, sure, but I figure between me, Denise and those guys already there, we can load the trucks quickly.”
“Says the one armed man.”
Being a stubborn old bastard I tend to ignore things that get in my way, even physical limitations. It hadn't even occurred to me. But she was right. And some of it was driven by me being anxious to see my good friends after all this time.
“Ok. Change of plans. Lyle, your crew comes along, Sadie, grab one of our jeeps for extra room. Wilford, take a radio and get up that hill. You see anything at all out on the water, you give us a shout.”
“Yeah Zed.” He ran into Jacob's and was out a moment later with two radios. He tossed one to Lyle, then headed up the hill behind Jacob's house.
“Ok people, let's mount up!”
That's not too much of a cliff hanger, is it?

 

Do you really have to take the weekend off

and leave all of us hanging...lol

 

No, no, no! We'll all drown…probably in our tears….

 

Would you guys like some cheese with that WHINE?

 

Good stuff Zen, it just moves right along. However, I don't know what's worse; the suspense in the story or the suspense waiting for the next chapter.

 

It's all good; and, yes! I will have a bit of Gguerrer cheese…because I love to whine! (I was at COSTCO yesterday and they have a fancy wine selection so I checked out the old family vintner; Mouton Rothschild Cadet…they had a bottle for about $1,200…damn, good thing I gave up drinking.) Now, back to the story…and we still have a fat toad to cook! ;-)

 

Never heard of that particular cheese... would a couple slices of American do?

 

Cheeze be good, de smellier de delicious Amen! Maybe they can use the fat toad for crab bait in a crab/lobster pot…be thinking here and hell, lobster much better to the palate than long pig…but neither is kosher. ;-)

 

Whoohoo! Another landmark passed. 200,000 words! 201,406 to be exact!
Frank and Virgil had managed to beach the boats by the time we made it down to the beach. They both grabbed rifles and took cover when they heard our vehicles, until they recognized Juice's truck and my Jeep.
They relaxed and stood up, then vaulted over the sides of the grounded boats and made their way towards us. I jumped out and ran to meet them, giving them quick hugs.
“Thanks for the supporting fire! That was a close thing!” Frank smile didn't quite cover the worry.
“Yeah man, of course. I'm so glad to see you! I'm sure we all have questions, but I think we have more pressing issues at the moment. Is there anyone else after you?”
“No, don't think so. We took out the first boat that came after us. I don't think there's any more.”
“Cool. Ok, Let's limit our exposure here. Let's get your things loaded quickly.”
I'm normally leery about driving on the beach because it's too easy to get stuck, but time was of the essence. I found my tire gauge in the glove box and let the air out of the tires until they were down to ten pounds. Tossing the gauge to one of Lyle's people and had them do the same to the other vehicles. The soft tires would provide better flotation on the sand.
I shifted the transfer case in to four low and locked the axles and maneuvered the Jeep right up to the boats. Frank, Virgil and their wives handed things down to our crew who quickly filled the Jeep. Applying careful throttle, to keep the tires from digging in, we swapped the Jeep for first one, then the other pick up trucks.
Ten minutes later we stood around the now empty boats. I sent the vehicles with Frank and Virgil's families up the hill.
“What do you want to do about the boats?” Virgil was solid, but a worrier. Good traits for a man that spends a good portion of his life at sea.
“I suppose we can't just leave them here, can we?” Frank sighed.
“If the Guard sends anyone looking for us, they'll see them, and I don't want to lead any trouble at your doorstep Zed.”
“Are any of them salvageable? You know Juice is here, right?”
“Sure, but that would take time and equipment. Do we have the time? Frank's boat is a loss, my outboards took rounds. And you shot the shit out of the controls of the other boat. I suppose we could swap out its engines for mine and get one good boat out of it.”
I tried to weigh the pros and cons of having a boat available versus the time that we'd be exposed. And where would we keep it?
“Screw it. Let's scuttle all of them. I hate to do it, but I just don't see we have much of a choice.”

The hard part was making the decision. Once that was done, it was just a matter of using the Guard's boat to pull the other two out to deeper water. Frank and Virgil got the boats rigged for towing. I stayed out of the way. Being one armed is bad enough, being one armed on a boat adds several degrees of difficulty.
The two of them stripped down to shorts and left everything on shore with me. Except for his rifle.
Frank's boat was still on shore, the other two rafted up to it. Virgil and he climbed aboard and made their way to the tow boat. Virgil took the helm and fired up the engines. Once they were running smoothly Frank went to the bow and fired five rounds of .308 from his Patriot Ordinance AR into the deck. Water sprang up from the holes as soon as they appeared. Moving to the back, he put another five rounds into the deck near the transom.
Safing the rifle he hopped into the middle boat, Virgil's, who flinched at each of the ten shots into his baby.
Frank pulled the mag and tossed it at me. I caught it and put it on his pile of gear. Making a show of running the charging handle, checking the chamber, and pulling the trigger, he threw the rifle at me.
He set up the throw well and I managed to not muff the catch.
Virgil engaged the transmission and bumped the throttle. The lines pulled taut, squeezing the water out as the tow boat took the strain. He had to give it full throttle before Frank's boat reluctantly released it's hold on the beach.
Virgil adjusted the throttles until the line of boats was aimed for the North Drop. Just as they cleared the entrance to the cove they climbed onto the gunnels and made clean dives away from the boats which continued on their way without them.
They surfaced thirty feet away and started swimming for shore, body surfing the breakers when they could. A few minutes later they stood next to me, dripping, as we watched the forlorn sight of the three doomed vessels getting smaller and smaller until we lost them to sight.
Using their t-shirts to wipe as much of the sea water off of themselves as they could, they got dressed, shouldered their packs, picked up their rifles and we headed off up the hill.

We spent the afternoon getting our new comers settled in. We found them some empty units in the condos down below our house, where Denise and Fiona were staying. We managed to find two large units on the north eastern side that would catch the tradewinds and make for comfortable living without the need for air conditioning.
Once everything was carried in, we left them alone to start setting up and settling in. They'd meet us at Jacob's for dinner and they could tell everyone their story on time, at the evening meeting.
Anxious to see my friends I arrived at Jacob's house early. I chatted with Daniels for a moment about the latest drone run, which had come up empty. He'd taken the initiative and run it out over the coast to look for any evidence of searchers out on the ocean. I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him for his work.
I noticed the door to the clinic open and hesitantly headed in that direction. Looking through the door I saw Doc Shoemacher helping a pale Jacob stand up.
I rushed the last couple of steps and entered the room, my heart suddenly glad at what I was seeing.
“Jacob!”
Jacob was facing the door as I came in, but Doc had to turn to face me.
“Hey Zed.” He was drawn and weak, but still managed a grin when he saw me.
“How are you doing?”
“He's doing better.” Doc answered for him. “I'm in the middle of examining him. If you'd close the door behind you as you leave I'd appreciate it.”
Doc's rebuke did little to dampen my spirits. Jacob was awake and able to get out of bed! He must be getting better! I didn't realize how much that had been weighing me down. I'd pushed it under the surface so I could get things done, but now I felt physically lighter. I pulled the door closed gently and the lock snicked into place quietly. I resolved to pump the doctor for more information later.
Dinner went well. It ran long as there was a lot more talking going on than normal, as we got caught up. When everyone had their fill and pushed back from the table, we adjourned to the living room, anxious to hear what our friends had to say.
“At first it was a good thing.” Frank started. “Before the crime got out of hand, and as soon as the commander at the National Guard Armory realized that the police weren't capable of handling it, he deployed soliders to set up road blocks. At first it was just down the road from the armory on the west, and the other side of Red Hook on the East.”
“they blocked off the intersection up the hill from them. That and the roadblock at Red Hook totally controlled access to that area. If you didn't live in the area, you didn't get in. Period.
Considering what was going on, we were all glad. It had an instant effect on the crime that was going on. They put guards on the grocery store and gas station. Unfortunately they closed them. Nobody could buy any food or gas.”
“What did people do? They must have needed food and other things?” Sadie asked.
“You could go to the Armory and register. Give them your name, how many family members, where you lived, and some other information. Then they'd give you some food. MREs mostly.” Frank answered.
Mean, Virgil's wife added, “We didn't do that, which is why we're here. But I talked to a couple of people that went through the process. You had to fill out a questionnaire asking all kinds of information like what you did for work, what skills you have, how big your house was, if you had a generator or off grid power. very detailed information...”
“They also wanted to know if you have guns.” Virgil finished.
Frank picked the thread back up. “The Armory became a rallying point, and more and more guardsmen showed up. Some cops too. And that was when the first problems showed up. The guardsmen and cops were welcome additions because we needed the manpower to maintain order.
But they didn't come alone. They brought their families with them. Their extended families. Sometimes showing up with fifteen or twenty people. The armory quickly filled up, and when it did, they went through their records and found people with bigger houses and forced them to take in these people. Families of three or four all of a sudden had six or eight people living with them. Total strangers. You were out numbered in your own home.”
“People put up with that?” Sadie was amazed because she couldn't picture standing for that.
“Some didn't at first. They were dragged out of their houses, taken to the roadblocks and told to leave and not come back. They were told that it was an emergency and that those who were more fortunate wouldn't help those in need then they didn't belong in that community.”
Leia had been quite until now. “We were continuously told we need to work together, to help those less fortunate. I'm all for that, but they were forcing us to do so at the point of a gun.” she gave a little shudder. “I couldn't imagine being forced to house so many people in our home, and to give up what we've worked so hard for.” I struggled with the irony. Leia was a new agey/karma kween. While she was a good person and had some redeeming points, she had a rather utopian left leaning view of the world. Reality had bitch slapped that view right out of her.
“We managed to avoid some of this for a while because we were set up to take care of ourselves, so we didn't have to go register. This kept us off their radar.”
“Not for long.” Vigil interrupted Frank. “People were encouraged to give up information on others. If you saw your neighbor hoarding or doing something else that didn't benefit the rest of the community, you could bring that information to the authorities and they'd reward you with food, or maybe even a treat.”
“Treat?”
“At that point some people were really jonesing. It was amazing what some people would do for a bottle of rum or a candy bar.”
“We convinced Virgil and Mean to move in with us for a number of reasons. We did the move over the course of a week, so as to attract as little attention as possible. People were really paying attention to what everyone else was doing. It was hard to get away with anything.”
“The worst was the people asking us for help.” Leia said. “Frank has a bit of a reputation as some that can take care of himself, so we had friends coming over asking for help. Food mostly. We said we didn't have anything to spare but they didn't believe us. They got really pushy. We had to stop cooking so the neighbors wouldn't smell it. Some of them actually threatened to turn us in if we didn't help them. These were our friends!”
“As more and more guards and police came in, the commander was able to push his boundaries outward. To the east he moved out to Smith Bay, getting a couple more gas stations and Merchant's Market, the food wholesaler. The the west, he moved out to Food Center and the two marinas there. They set up command posts in these new areas, places for people to register, to distribute food out of, and to base guards. A few days later they had the people and organization they needed to close the loop. The pushed out east and west until they met at the Mall.”
“So they got Plaza Extra supermarket?” I was curious, figuring I knew the answer. Frank confirmed it. “They got it, but it was too late, it was mostly empty. They did get the Kmart and some furniture stores. You don't seem surprised.”
“I'm not. The convenience stores were empty too, weren't they?”
Frank looked at me sideways, “How'd you know?”
“I talked to a couple of the guys at our local store early on. They saw the writing on the wall and knew the government was about to seize their stuff, so they moved it.”
“Where? Where would they put all of that?” Then he answered his own question. “That compound on Skyline.”
“Yup. So it seems like the Guard had things pretty well sewn up.”
“On the land. They controlled the port at Red Hook and three other marinas and they restricted people from coming and going. Some people slipped away, but day by day it got harder and harder to do.”
“Did anybody try to come in from the British Virgin Islands, or St. John?”
“A few tried, but most were turned away. A boat from Her Majesty's Customs Service came over and they were taken in to see the Commander, but I don't know what that involved.”
“They patrolled the harbor and marinas, but you can't stop all traffic. People have been smuggling here for centuries. But if they catch you, you are dealt with harshly.”
“What were they doing for food? That's a lot of people to feed.”
“Not as many as you might think. That area only has one housing community and when it was taken over, a lot of people left. The gang bangers weren't going to live under military rule. The rest of the area has a fairly low population density. With our threat of hurricanes, they had a large stock of MREs, and they were forcing fishermen to go out every day. They kept their families under guard in case they got any ideas.”
“They didn't want people to leave?”
“Not useful ones like fishermen. If you don't have a skill like that, they find other work for you. If you want food, you have to work.”
“As it should be.”
“Well, until you are forced to do it, and don't have any say in what it is you're doing. They found a bunch of seed at the three hardware stores they in their area. People are being forced to farm the land. By hand.”
“You stayed there for a while. What decided you to leave. We've talked about this many times before. You knew you were always welcome here.”
“Like I said, at first it looked like a good thing. We were the safest place on the island. We didn't have much looting, and that was just early on and got shut down quick. And when things got worse, as they tightened down, we thought it would just be temporary. Then the longer we waited the harder it became. But finally my old partner showed up, Jason. When I told him we couldn't help him, he threatened to turn us in. He said he knew we had food, and guns and ammo. That was it. There was no way we were going to turn in our guns. So we decided we had to make a run.
“We loaded up our vehicles with all the important stuff. It hurt to leave all the other things behind, knowing our homes are going to get picked over. Food, clothes, guns, ammo. That's what we took.”
“At two in the morning we drove our vehicles down to Vessup and left the girls with them. Virgil and I kayaked over to the marina, cut our anchor lines and towed our boats out of the entrance. Virgil worked out the timing and the tide was going out, so while it was slow going, it wasn't as hard as it might have been.”
“Clear of the entrance we got on board and started up the engines and idled around the point, once there we ran flat out to Vessup. We ran with no lights, that was interesting, but we made it without running aground or hitting any rocks.”
“We nosed up to the beach and the girls drove the trucks right out to us. We were abandoning them, so it didn't matter if they got stuck or soaked in salt water. That made loading much easier. Loaded, we cast off and idled away from shore.”
“False dawn was just starting and we hadn't been discovered yet. Our luck held until we crossed the mouth of Red Hook harbor. Someone must have seen or heard us, either at the marina or at Vessup, and reported us. Maybe a guard. I don't know. But there were a bunch of guards at the marina looking out to sea. And there we came.”
“No need to be quiet anymore, so we hammered down, bringing the boats up on plane. A boat in the harbor headed our way. We ran, and we had a good lead. But we were more heavily laden than our pursuer, who was joined by another boat further back. We made it past Magen's Bay and Hull, but the first boat was slowly gaining. By the time we hit Dorthea they were only a thousand yards off.”
At Njeltiberg the distance was down to four hundred yards and they opened up on us. The first volley was short, but they could see the bullets striking the water so they adjusted their aim upwards. Now we were getting hit. The girls took the kids and laid down in front of the consoles. Virgil and I grabbed our rifles and crawled to the tansom to use the engines as cover.”
“It worked, we didn't get hit, but in trying to, they hit our engines instead. Our boats lost speed as the motors shuddered and sputtered. The helmsman of the guard boat, seeing victory, pushed the throttles all the way forward. Virgil and I concentrated our fire on him. I'll tell you, there's a substantial difference in what a .308 will do to a boat compared to a .223. The console was getting chewed up and the driver was doing a good job of ignoring it. He really wanted us. But a lucky shot connected and I saw his head snap back in a spray of pink.”
“Bad timing, as they were coming up on the point of Caret. His lifeless body crumpled, dragging the helm over hard to port and they hit an out crop of rock at about forty knots. The boat disintegrated pitching the rest of the crew overboard.”
That last bit worried me. “Did anyone survive?”
“Doubt it, but it's possible.”
“We'll need to look. First thing tomorrow.”
“So we'd taken care of that boat, but we were now dead in the water, with the second boat coming up. And that's where you guys came in.”

 

I'm b tinking dat formerly fat toad gonna die from krul an very unusual punishment and being hog tied up too long, left to starve in some hole in de ground…yes, I b tinking…what a story…I've paid good money for books that weren't half as good; now, can we kill that fat toad off so's I can b forgetting about him…please? ;-)

 

I too have paid good money for books I was disappointed in...
including at least one well known author...
this writing is excellent, the story is gripping, the tension is palpable, and best of all, the characters are believable...
too many authors, get in a hurry to meet some asinine word count goal. This affects their story badly. Zen, congrats on over 200k words... but don't worry about it, some of the best novels are just that... long, and when they're done, its time... but, it appears, we have a new enemy on the horizon...
(while you consider a fitting comeuppance for The Blob.)

PS; Question, what is the deal with the Florida hurricane icon as the ladies name???

 

huh. That's strange. Virgil's wife is M e a g h a n. g h a seems to be the problem.
gha?

 

Now, the important point…we need picturee! Really, I'm not kidding; back when I was a kid, just before christ was born, all of my Edgar Rice Burroughs books, Tarzan, etc., had Franzeta (sp) prints included in the text…it's a clever trick for a 'work of fiction' and could be used similarly when this book goes to print…I especially want to see a picture of the fat toad hog tied in his pit! (I know, I invented the pit….) Story is going great, keep it up…much too early for any good news…if ever! ;-)

 

Wish Zed's crew had kept a boat, but seeing that their no safe harbors I can under stand. Maybe they could lure a boat like the Pirates used to do with some trickery. Keep up the good works.

 

If only there was a way to let the Guard know about the gang's stash of food at the warehouse.....

 

Never strengthen an armed and dangerous opponent unless you have a plan of killing them…we wouldn't want the gang bangers (nice euphemism don't you think…for toads?) to surrender to the 'guard, and then join forces with them, corrupting them from within while adding to their food supply and learning how to bring an organized force into battle, and etc.!

 

Saturday Day 24
We grabbed a quick breakfast, donned our packs and then hiked down to the beach. It was just Frank, Virgil, and me. We couldn't really spare anyone else. Nothing had washed up on the beach, which was a good sign.
We picked our boulder strewn way along the right arm of the cove out to the point. It was slow going over the rugged uneven terrain. Once at the point we could see the rocks hidden just below the surface, extending twenty yards into the Atlantic. There was no evidence of the boat that hit. It must have broken up thoroughly and the current must have taken anything that floated.
Frank stripped down to his board shorts and pulled mask, snorkle and fins from his pack. Easing into the water he swam towards the rocks. He went back and forth in a grid pattern for a few minutes.
Then he jack knifed and dove. A minute later he surfaced and swam back to us. When he could stand he showed us three M16s.
“Keep them in the water til I get back. There's some more stuff out there. Most of the boat is there, in about twenty feet of water.”
He swam back out and resumed his search. I looked at Virgil.
“Keep them out of the oxygen so they don't rust as fast.”
I nodded. One of those pieces of information I forgot I knew.
Waiting for Frank, I played my binoculars out over the ocean looking for any wreckage or bodies. I didn't see any from this vantage point. The current flows westward, so I looked at the left arm of the cove. There was some white material that I couldn't make out.
I left Virgil to help with Frank and hiked over to the other side. I found several pieces of the first guard boat. Fiberglass sections covering foam for flotation.
I started pulling them out of the water. The smaller pieces I tossed inland. Some of the bigger pieces I had to drag out of the water. Only having one and a half arms didn't make the job any easier. My right arm was on the mend, but I still only had about ten percent use of it.
Pulling the biggest piece, knee deep in the ocean, I lifted it and discovered it had been covering a corpse.
He was in pretty bad shape, being in the water for a day, and rubbing on the rocks hadn't done anything to improve his pallid, bloated self. I grabbed an ankle and pulled him through the rocks until he was on shore. He'd need to get buried soon.
As If we didn't have enough work to do already.
Having done what I could on this side, I headed back to the others. Frank was on shore by the time I got there. He had a big satisfied smile on his face.
“Being metal, the guns sank pretty quickly. They were all pretty close to each other.”
“How many?”
“Six of the AR s. I didn't find any pistols.”
“Ammo” I was hoping.
The smile got bigger. He was pleased with himself. He moved his back pack revealing his treasure. “I found four ammo cans. They were two heavy to swim with so I had to walk along the bottom. That's what took so long. I found the guns quickly and they were easy to move. Hiking those cans was a beast. I did two trips, a can in each hand. Had to get air four times on the first run, did it in three on the second.”
I just looked at him and shook my head and smiled back. If someone came along and made that trip with only two breaks for air, Frank would work on it until he did it in one. He was the embodiment of cheerful competition.
He knelt and opened one of the cans. The rubber seal had done its job and the bright shiny cases winking in the sun were bone dry. 5.56x45 Green tip. Hey, I'll take it.
There was more there than I wanted to carry up the hill, so Virgil retrieved my Jeep, a shovel and a pick. We buried the body well above the high water line, and moved the bright white pieces of the boat into the bush, covering them with brush.
When we got back home we set a couple of gallons of water to boil on the stove. While we waited for the water to get hot we stripped the rifles down and put the smaller parts like all the components of the bolt carrier group. Flushing with boiling water did a great job of washing away the salt, but it evaporates immediately.
Every part got rinsed several times, then coated with a heavy layer of Mobil 1 oil. We'd keep them out for a day or two to see if we missed any salt. I was glad to have another half dozen rifles and the ammo to run them. We'd finally have enough rifles to equip every one in our four fire teams, with several left over. And the ammo meant we could do a bit more live fire training.
Dry fire is good for building basics, but every once in a while you actually have to toss some lead down range.
I made my way to Jacob's, anxious for an update, my spirits uplifted at the sight of him standing, up out of bed. Walking up to the door, I was met by Doc Shoemacher who was exiting as I was trying to enter.
We did the 'you're in my way' dance and finally came to an agreement. Stepping back, I let Doc out. “Where ya off to, in such a hurry?”
“Good afternoon to you, too.” Doc riffing off of my penchant for polite greetings.
“Sorry. Afternoon.” I grinned, “now where are you off to, in such a hurry?”
“Going to make my rounds. Check on Charles, a couple of other folks with lesser complaints, but first to check on Detective Johns.”
“Mind if I tag along? I haven't had a chance to stop in and see him since he was shot. Is he up to seeing people?”
“He should be, if it's just for a few minutes. He's doing well, as far as I can tell. I'm operating on guess work more than normal, not having access to the resources, the testing, the laboratories, that I'd normally use. One thing that's concerning me is antibiotics.”
Doc stepped off the porch and started walking, I fell in beside him. “How so? Are we running low?”
“With what you and the Johnson's and I have, plus what we've recovered from houses, we started with a large supply. But in just three weeks we've had four major injuries. Considering that a course of treatment is a week or two, while we have quite a bit now, that could change very quickly.”
“Any ideas? Alternatives?”
He shrugged, “Alternatives are a possibility. Any chance we could head out to Fortuna?”
“To the farmers?”
“Well, sort of. Some of the older folk there know the medicinal properties of the various plants. Some of which might be good for treating infections.”
I thought about what a trip like that would entail, picturing the drive out there in my mind. There was only one road in to the Fortuna and Bordeaux areas of the island. They are very isolated, very small communities on the western end of the island.
It was strictly residential and very small farms of an acre or so each. Only one small store, and no housing communities. The population had a heavy sprinkling of Rastfarians, who lead a back to basics life style. Like the Amish but with better music and a big spliff.
I recalled that there was a government program offering homesteading opportunities to veterans. I didn't know how many took advantage of the program, but I'd have to assume some.
Veterans have a tendencies towards being armed. No matter what path their military careers took, they all started out the same, with basic training. I wondered what they've been doing for the past twenty some days? Circled the wagons and set up some sort of defenses, like we had?
Very Likely.
Had they any ties, any communications with the National Guard? That stuck out as a big question mark. Doc brought me back from my musings.
“So, do you think we can go out there?”
“I was just considering it. Getting there should be pretty safe. I just don't know what kind of reception we'd receive.”
“You don't think the gang bangers haven't already hit them? They'd be pretty easy pickings, I'd think.”
“Ever here of the 'Maroons'?”
“Sure. Weren't those the escaped slaves that lived in the bush in remote areas, successfully fighting off any attackers?”
“Yup. And I guarantee they know about them too. Lot's of those people are proud of that history and have studied it thoroughly. I wouldn't be surprised to find them emulating the Maroons.”
I also told Doc about the possibilities of having to deal with veterans.
“So we shouldn't go?”
“No, we should. We have no idea what's going on over there. So we need to check it out, we just need to be careful.
That hashed out, I changed the subject. “It was good to see Jacob up yesterday. How's he doing?”
“He's weak, beat up, but on the mend.”
“He was standing, that's good, right?”
“Sure, but it was only for a few moments. It's important to get patients up on their feet as soon as possible. Even if it is for only a short time. So don't read too much into it. He still has a long way to go, and he's not entirely out of the woods.”
We were getting close to Johns' house and I wanted to know what I was dealing with. “How's his shoulder doing?”
“It's going to take a while for him to build that bone back together. At least two months. As many as four.”
“How's his family coping?”
“Fine. They're getting a lot of support from the community.”
“How are they handling that he was shot? And the stuff that's happened afterward?”
Doc looked at me sideways, appraisingly. “Trying to get a feel for the reception you'll get at the Johns' home?”
'Well, yeah. It'd help me plan my approach.”
“Approach?”
“What I'm going to talk about, and how I'm going to talk about it.”
I didn't get a chance to get an answer. We'd arrived at the Johns' and there were a few people about outside.
A teen boy was the first to see us and he ran in the house. The others politely returned our greeting as we entered the yard, but they didn't pick up the conversation that we'd interrupted. There was a brief awkward pause, and then Doc started asking after everyone's health. This broke the ice and people shared what little afflictions they'd suffered and how they were treating them.
A few moments later the door opened and Mrs. Johns appeared. She had a smile for the doctor, but it left her face when she saw me. Uh oh.
“Mr. Zed, Doctor Shoemacher, won't you please come in? John's is in the living room.”
Doc gave her a brief hug as he passed her. She held out her hand to me and I took it and shook. It was a warm, strong hand and she knew how to shake. Holding my hand she looked me in the eye, holding the look for a couple of seconds. I'm not sure what she was looking for, but she released my hand and said, “Johns has been wanting to talk to you.”
“I'm sorry I haven't been by earlier to check on him. I feel bad about it.”
“You're here now. Go on in.” I entered past her a couple of steps and then waited for her. She closed the door and led me to the living room. Doc was already at work, checking vitals. Johns was sitting in an overstuffed recliner, covered with a light weight blanket.
“Good afternoon” I opened.
“Afternoon Zed. Thanks for coming by.”
“I was apologizing to the Mrs. for not coming by earlier to check on you.”
He shrugged, a motion limited to one side of his body. “Don't worry about it. I know you've been busy. How's the arm?” He nodded, indicating my bandaged right arm. “Did you get that going after Threeballz?”
Being stuck in the house, Johns only had a second or third hand version of the mission Jacob and I had been on. While Doc puttered, poked and prodded, peered and sniffed at his patient, I went over the details of our attack and retreat.
“So Threeballz is dead?”
“I don't know for sure, but I tagged him hard three times. Hard to live through that under normal times. So I can't say for sure, but I think so.”
“Good. Thank you.”
“I didn't see that I had much choice. He had to be stopped before he came back.”
“I agree. And you did good.”
“Did I? I'm not sure we accomplished what we set out to do and I darned near got Jacob killed doing it.”
“Sure you did. You bought us time. If you hadn't shot Threeballz, don't you think he would have been back already?”
“Yeah. He would have been back the next day. I'm sure of it.”
“Well, there you go. You bought us a week we didn't have. Even if he IS still alive. If I know you, you haven't been wasting that time, have you?”
“No sir, I haven't. We haven't.”
I took a few more minutes to update him on the cooperative alliance we had set up with the Frenchies, the training we were doing for them, the patrols, and the forward observation posts.
Doc finished up his examination and declared that Johns was indeed on the mend, and complimented Mrs. Johns for the care she was giving him. He took his leave and he and the Mrs. left the room as he talked to her about treatment and things she should be looking for.
Johns watched them leave and then turned his attention back to me. “I'm glad you stopped by. Thanks for the reports, it's hard being stuck in here and relying on others to keep me informed.”
“Sure. You're welcome. But so far I've done all the talking. When I arrived, your wife said that you wanted to talk to me.”
Johns shifted in his seat, trying to sit up a little straighter. “I do. I wanted to talk to you about the food.”
“What about it?”
“Well, you gave it over to my keeping.”
“It wasn't mine to give.”
“Don't be coy. You know what I mean. If you wanted to keep control of the food yourself, you could have. Who would have stopped you?”
“Seemed like the thing to do at the time.” I said, somewhat lamely.
“Oh, it was a clever move. No question.” He smiled at me moving the statement from accusation to compliment. “But I'm not in a great position to guard, administer, and distribute it.” He looked down at this wrecked clavicle.
“So what can I do to help? I don't really want to deal with it myself.”
“like I said, clever.” another grin. “First off, I'd like to just discuss with you what to do about the food stores. Once we know that, administering it should be fairly easy.”
“Easy will depend on what the plan is. I assume you have some ideas?
He nodded.
“Well, let's hear them.”

 

Alright Zen! Thanks.

 

Thank you for the latest chapter, I was in need of a Zen fix!