Original Work The Unwelcome Sign

We'll find out more of what's going on in the next couple of books.

 

Frank and Virgil were waiting for us by the time Doc and I pulled up in his truck.
We took a moment to fill them in on the details of what we knew and then they hopped in the bed.

When they were seated I hit the gas. Driving out of the neighborhood we only saw a couple of people, the rain keeping most people indoors. The ones we saw waved and stared after us. The novelty of seeing a moving vehicle combined with it carrying armed men, held their attention until we were past.

We lost a few minutes while we moved the vehicle out of the upper chicane and talked with the people manning the position. Lavell had doubled up so there were four people there. We updated them with what we knew, told them to stay sharp, and to expect us back fairly soon.

The drive to Four Corners only took a handful of minutes. I drove as quickly as the wet roads allowed, slowing as we neared the intersection, not wanting to get shot by the guards there.

We pulled up and dismounted. Stan and George met us and showed us the wounded men. Doc Shomacher immediately went to work on them, starting with triage. He declared the man shot through the liver to be unsaveable. Stan, or someone in his team had patched up the gangbanger that had been shot in both legs. After a quick going over, he declared the work good and moved to the third prisoner, who'd been shot through the upper right of his torso.
Doc stood and looked at Stan, then me. “How long do you want them to live?”
“At least long enough to get some answers.”
“Then you didn't really need me. These men have been patched up well enough to live long enough for your purposes.” I could see the internal struggle the Doc was going through.
“Thanks Doc. I know this isn't what you signed up for.”
“Do what you have to do. Whatever happens to these scum, they brought it on themselves.”
Catching George's eye, I looked at the prisoners, Doc, and tilted my head. He got the message. He took the doctor gently by the elbow and led him away. “Have you had breakfast yet? Mrs. Berry makes amazing omelets.”
I watched the retreating forms as George led Doc Shoemacher to a nearby house. Doc might have said he was cool with what was about to happen, that didn't mean I had to subject him to witnessing it.
I turned my attention to the three men in front of me. The liver shot man writhed and moaned horribly.
I stood over the prisoners, frowning. They looked back at me defiantly. Working on keeping my expression the same, I deliberately drew my pistol and without hesitation shot the terminally wounded man in the head. His body jerked once, twice, and slowly relaxed, a quivering hand the last thing to go quiet.

Chest wound maintained his defiance, but leg wound was equal parts shocked and unsure.
I made a show of looking at them both, then addressed Chest Wound. “Who sent you?”
“Fuck you!” he spat back.
Calmly, with no wasted motion, I brought the pistol back up and shot him in the face. The bullet hole on the bridge of his nose made him look a bit cross-eyed.

Pistol back down at my side, I repeated my question to the only one left to hear me. Leg Wound was much more accommodating.
“Shocka. It was Shocka set us.”
“Why?”
“To see what's what. You know, like do a recognizance”
Inwardly, I grinned at his misuse of a word that was probably in more common usage within his peer group.
“Why?”
He looked away and shrugged his shoulders. I knelt down in front of him, using the slide of my pistol to turn his head back to make eye contact.
“Why?”
“Shocka will kill me!”
“And I won't? Shocka's not your immediate concern, son.”
He remained reticent, having drawn his personal line in the sand, having found some remnant of a backbone, he stared at me, refusing to answer.
Pistol keeping his face in place, I reached down with my other hand and searched around until his eyes told me I'd found the right place.
I dug my thumb into the bullet hole in his thigh. His eyes opened impossibly wide and the scream he let out had the neighborhood dogs howling.
I kept pushing until my thumb was knuckle deep. His scream turned into hyperventilating
“This looks like an exit wound” I said as much to myself as to him. I looked up to where Frank and Virgil stood, watching as if looking for conformation of what I was about to say.
“If you had an exit wound on the front of your leg, which way would you be facing?”
Virgil picked up on it. “Away from the fight. You were running away, weren't you?”
Leg Wound looked quickly up at Virgil. “I was looking for cover!”
Virgil looked at me, “If you were Shocka, and this was one of your soljahs, what would you think?”
“I'd think I had a coward working for me.” I looked back at LW. “You can't go back to Shocka. He'd kill you. Or worse.” His face told me he knew the truth of my words. “So you might as well help me out.” I pulled my thumb out of the wound and wiped it on his pants. Frank handed me a bottle of Purell from his pack. Setting my pistol down, I used it liberally. Who knew what blood borne pathogens this bastard was host to.

Picking my pistol back up, I put the barrel between his eyes. He watched, transfixed, until my trigger finger left the frame and traveled to the trigger.
“Waitwaitwait!”
“Wait what? What am I waiting for? I'm done with you.”
“If I tell you more, everything I know, will you let me go?”
“Where will you go? Can't go back to Shocka.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Don't wanna die just yet”
I pretended to mull it over. “Ok. Talk.”
“Then you'll let me go?”
“Sure.”
He searched my face for signs of sincerity. He seemed satisfied.
“Whatchyou want to know?”
“Why is Shocka after me?”
“You killed Threeballz”
I was surprised at that. “Why does he think that? Could have been anybody.”
LW favored me with a look like I was an idiot. “Who else would it have been? Shocka ain't stupid. He can figure things out. How many people coulda made a shot like that? And right after Threeballz pays you a visit? Nah man, Shocka knew it was you.”
“You'd think I did him a favor, getting rid of the top guy, so he could move up.”
“Oh, so what, you're not a threat to him anymore? Besides, you have stuff he wants.”
I sighed. “All we want is to be left alone. That's all.”
I got the 'are you stupid' look again. He didn't even bother answering.
“So what's Shocka planning?”
“He's going to attack you guys. We was gathering information so he could plan.”
“How many people does he have?”
“Doan know exactly. Say around a hundred.”
“A hundred? How's that possible? You only had around forty a week ago, and we've killed a few of those.”
That earned me a sharp look, though whether it was that I knew how many people they had, or the admission to killing some of them, I wasn't sure.
“Shocka made an alliance with OHC. They goan help. For a cut.”
The mention of the notorious housing community worried me. “A hundred huh? How are they armed?”
“Shocka's people all have AR s. They got them from Grey. Don't know for sure about the OHC posse. I know they had some AK s come in from Venezuala. That was only about a dozen though. I guess the rest would be a mix of stuff. That's one of the reasons they're coming for you.”
“For guns?”
“Sure. Lot's of people know you is a gun man. And you got some guns from our boys.”
“When's this attack going to happen?”
Another shrug. “I'm just a soljah. Shocka doan tell me his plans. Soon, though, I'd expect.”
I stood back up, slowly, my body complaining about kneeling down. I stretched, and kneaded my leg muscles to get circulation moving again. I holstered the pistol that I'd forgotten was still in my hand. Pulling a water bottle from my pack I took a drink and walked around, giving myself a chance to think.

An attack was imminent. Maybe today, but probably tomorrow. Next day at the latest. I made a series of decisions and then returned to the group. Getting in the truck, I cranked it up and backed it up next to the prisoner.

“Load him up. Those bodies too.” Men hurried to comply.
“You said you would let me go!”
“And so I will. Relax.”
Bodies in the truck, the men looked at me expectantly.
“Frank, Virgil, come with me. Rest of you, we'll be right back. Be ready to go home when we do.”

I drove off down to the OP on Solberg, the scene of the battle. Stopping, I talked to Lyle to let him know what I was doing. Then I drove past the OP a hundred yards and stopped the truck. The three of us pulled the bodies out of the truck, grabbing limbs and tugging until the bodies hit the pavement. Leg Would was last. We weren't much more gentle with him.
We left him on the road, next to his dead compatriots and got back in the truck.
“Hey! You said you'd let me go!”
“I did. Go. Fly away little birdie.”
“I can't walk! What am I supposed to do?”
“Not my problem. I did what I promised. Speaking of promises, if I ever see you again, I promise to shoot you right in the head. Understand?”
LW nodded, miserably. We sat in the truck and watched. After a few minutes LW made his decision and started using his arms to crawl back down the hill he'd come up only a couple of hours before.

We stopped again at the OP and talked to the men, telling them what we'd learned. To a man, their visages became more and more serious, more and more determined. These men would stand.
I took Lyle aside. “We're going to get hit. Soon. I'm going to work up a plan. Meantime, you are only a delaying force. Got it?”
Lyle nodded. “Understood.”
I reinforced my point. “Anyone comes up here, stop them if you can, delay them if that's all you can manage. Do NOT make this a last stand. Do NOT let yourself get overrun. Fall back to Four Corners before that happens.”
“Yes sir. But don't we need to keep these gang bangers away from our homes?”
“We do. But we are out numbered. We are going to have to make some trades. I'm going to go figure out what that will look like. Meantime, I need you to keep your team intact. I need each and every one of you.”
“You can count on me, Zed.”
“I know it.”
We did the clasp hand/one arm hug thing and parted. Back in the truck, Frank, Virgil and I headed back up to Four Corners. Stan's team climbed in back, to the truck's bed. I stood, arms crossed, elbows resting on the edge of the bed and surveyed the weary faces.

“You done good.” That got everyone's attention. I gave them a quick rundown of what I'd learned from LW. “I'm proud of what you've done. You stopped a reconnaissance attack, saving lives and preventing the enemy from getting any useful information about us. All with no loss to yourselves. Well done. Well. Done.”
The tired faces sprouted grins and proud looks. They looked at each other and bumped fists.

I stood from where I'd been leaning on the truck and dug in a pocket. Pulling my now full hand out, I held it palm up and opened my fingers, revealing a small pile of coins. From their reactions, it seemed that this wasn't the first time they'd seen Zeds.

I handed them out, two to a man. “First two rounds are on me!” This brought a cheer and another round of fist bumping and good natured chatter. “Don't over do it. Have a couple to unwind and then get some rest. We're going to need you rested and ready to kick ass!” The cheer started as a growl and grew. Looks turned serious.
I looked at Stan, who was obviously proud of his team. “What's the first thing you're going to do, before you go to the bar?”
“Clean and check our gear!” one man reply and was echoed by a couple other.
“Good man!” I slapped the side of the truck with my open palm and headed for the driver's door. I'd barely had it open when I heard my name being yelled from the road block.
I looked up to see one of Lyle's men running toward me. He slid to a stop in front of me. “It's the western OP! They're under attack!”
“You're in radio contact?”
“Yes sir!” he nodded.
“Tell them we're on the way. Tell them to fall back rather than get hurt. You got that?”
“Yes sir!” he nodded.
“Go!”
He turned and ran for the radio. “You heard that.” I yelled at the back of the truck. “Lock and load! We're being probed!”

 

Being probed…hmmmm! Sounds, well kind of sexy if you know what I mean in a violent kind of way…O'h yes, time to rock and roll, de musik be coming down de rode and all dat kinda sheet!

 

Thanks Zen.

 

Zed be wasting a lot of heads hear…I mean, really! There were three fence post decorations just dumped out on de rode and sheet. Buzzard bait and no buzzards…whazz wid dat? ;-)

 

thanks...

 

Glad you are back, I really missed your writing...A great story!

 

Just found your site day before yesterday and started reading. Keep writing, it's some of the best I've read in a while and I read about 3 books a week (published?). Now I have to remember to leave the computer to run get food, bring it to the desk and keep reading (I'm really hoping it goes on for like another 17 years, barring wrol or teotwawki).

 

The men in the back hunkered down, using their free hands to hang on while they braced themselves with their feet. I tried to find the right balance between speed and not flinging my passengers out of the bed, not wanting to strew them along behind me.
Frank, feet braced on the floor, back against the passenger seat, had his window down and his M4 pointed out the window. Virgil was between us, also braced against my slaloming through the curves, trying to stay out of my way.

We stopped just shy of the OP, around a curve, out of sight a couple hundred feet away. We could clearly hear gunshots, the difference between outgoing and incoming obvious even at this distance.

Picturing the area in my head, I recalled our two positions on either side of the road with the escape trails leading back to our area.
“Frank, take half the group and go to the right side OP and reinforce them.”
He exited the truck wordlessly, nothing needed to be said. He quickly had his men moving.
“Let's go!” I yelled at the remainder and I led them up the left hand path. The shots got louder as we neared, rounds whipped past us, buzzing angrily, snapping twigs that got in their way. We crouched as we ran, willing ourselves to be smaller targets.

We heard the rate of fire pick up from across the road, Frank's group reaching their OP a head of us. The enemy rounds directed at us slackened as the gangbangers directed all of their attention to the increased threat.

Recognizing the opening, we didn't need any further invitation. We sped up and moments later slid into the OP, startling its occupants. My men quickly found protected positions and opened fire.
“Zed! Glad to see you!” A woman looked back at me, lifting her head from her rifle. I looked past her and got my first view of our opponents.
There was an older Ford Explorer sideways in the road. Further down the road were two other vehicles. Two bodies lay in the road in front of the Ford. At least two more people were using it as cover as they fired at our position. There were some muzzle flashes from the bush on either side of the road.

“What happened?” I yelled over the gunfire.
“They came up quick, that one car some distance in the lead. Jonesy, on the other side, was on road duty and motioned for them to stop. They did, but they came out aggressively with guns.
We lit them up, giving Jonsey a chance to get to cover. The other cars stopped back where you see them. People got out and came forward, doing a good job of using cover.
We got those two when they first got out, I think we've tagged a couple others, but I don't know how many or how bad?”
“How many enemy total?”
“Maybe ten left” she didn't hesitate with the answer.

It was a stalemate at this point, both sides in good positions, trading ineffective fire. My people were operating as they had trained, putting out well aimed, deliberate shots, well spaced out to save ammo. The bad guys weren't getting hit, but they knew they couldn't move, either.

The gang members weren't so disciplined, most of them pushing their guns over or around cover and firing a bunch of shots before withdrawing their weapons again. The closest were the pair behind the Explorer, about thirty yards distant. The rest were spread out fifty to seventy five yards away.
This fight would go to the first to take the initiative. This OP was on the uphill side of the road, putting us in the better position for a flanking maneuver. I got the attention of the men in my group and told them of my intentions. They responded by performing tactical reloads and chamber checks, tapping themselves around their bodies to ensure important gear was where it should be.

We built the OP s across from each other, making it easy to see from one to the other. I looked over and saw Frank watching me, patiently. I pointed at my chest, and then circling up and around the hill, then at him, finishing by moving my open hand, palm down, back and forth over my head.
Frank nodded and I gave him a moment to relay my commands to his folks. I watched as they performed the same ammo management routine that my people had just gone through.
Seeing that they were ready, I looked at Frank again, holding up my fist palm towards him. I shook it once and raised my index finger. Again and my middle finger joined the first. A third and final shake and my ring finger came up.
Frank gave his command and everyone in his OP opened up on the enemy, putting out the most furious fire of the fight so far.
“Go!” I lead my group, minus the two original people manning the OP, out from behind cover and up the hill, trying to make some distance before we were noticed.
Fifteen or twenty yards up the hill I found a terrain feature that let me parallel the road. We ran along it, crouched down, hoping to remain unseen. Our luck held evidenced by the lack of incoming fire directed at us. Within seconds we were even with the main body of the attackers, but some distance up hill from them.

We quickly assumed positions behind rocks and trees and I gave my people time to aquire targets. I scanned back and forth between their positions until I saw them all looking to me, waiting.

There was a stout fellow bellow me, some thirty yards distant. I aimed down at him, putting the red dot of my sight on the side of his head, just at the top of his ear.
Thumbing off the safety sent a twinge of pain up my partialy healed arm. I ignored it and concentrated on working the trigger. Straight back, slowly increase the pressure...
“Boom!” The rifle barely moved in recoil, allowing me to see the dense cloud of pink matter blow out the far side of my target's head. His head snapped to the side and he collapsed.
My people opened fire on my shot. Of the ten, we took six within as many seconds. Several, unthinking, paniced by the unexpected attack, left their cover to get away from our deadly fire. Frank's group took immediate advantage of that exposure.

Another handful of seconds and it was over.

We all paused, taken by the sudden quiet. Slowly the spell was broken as first one, then another and yet another person took care of their weapons. I followed suit, exchanging my partial mag, even though I'd only fired to the one shot, more out of habit that actually thinking about it.

My left hand moved back and flipped the selector back to 'safe', remembering the pain of the previous attempt to operate it. Then it slipped around the front of the magazine well, closing the dust cover before resuming its previous position on the fore arm.

“FRANK!”
“YO!”
“Send some people to check it out. We'll cover from here”
“You want prisoners?”
“No”

He'd anticipated my order as there was no pause before he and three other people moved forward, rifles at the ready, butts tight in to shoulders. Two covered while two moved. They'd reached the first body and Frank pumped a round into it's head. The process was repeated as they moved down the line.

They were three quarters of the way through when one of the bad guys jumped up and ran. He managed three steps before the two people providing cover hit him several times each. He stumbled, like he'd stubbed his toe and fell face first.

“Clear!” Frank and his team had made it all the way back to the cars. We picked our way down the hill and joined him.
“Collect the weapons and ammo and anything else useful.” I called out as I moved to where Frank was. He and his people were going through the cars to see what they contained.
“That was easy.” Frank greeted me. I frowned at his words.
“Yeah. We'd positioned ourselves well, and were well prepared. But we were lucky that we were already out, in a vehicle, staged and ready to respond. If it had been these four by themselves, things might have gone differently.”
“But we were prepared. We were ready, You've done a great job here, Zed.”
I shrugged off the compliment, sincere as it might have been.
“Yeah. But are we prepared enough for what's to come?”
Before he could reply to something we couldn't really know, I redirected with a question. “Find anything useful?”
“Some ammo and other odds and ends in the cars. Nothing serious. Should we check with the rest of the crew?”

We left the cars and walked back over to the road in front of the two OP s where our people were staging the gear we'd recovered. I wasn't surprised to see a bunch of AR s identical to those we already have. Frank bent over to pick one up, examining it.
“Military?”
“Yup. I was thinking National Guard when they first started showing up.”
Frank shook his head. “No way were they letting anything go. Not like this.”
“That's what I figured after hearing what you guys had to say about what's going on over on the east end. We also recovered some UMPs and Glocks, so these AR s probably came from the police. Part of that DOD program to get military surplus equipment into law enforcement's hands cheap.”

“That's the last of it, Zed” The woman from the OP reported, a name finally popped into my head from the murky depth's of my memory where people's names go to be lost.
“Thanks Maria.” She beamed, happy that I knew who she was. “Do we have a final count?”
“Ten rifles like these AR s, two UMPs, a dozen assorted pistols, several thousand rounds of ammo, a bunch of spare mags.” Again, without hesitation.
“no food or water?”
“We found some water bottles but not many. No food.”

I looked from her to Frank who said what I was thinking. “They weren't planning on staying out long.”
“Hit and run. Just a probe.” I paused, thinking. “But they stuck around and put up more of a fight than the other group.” I let that hang. Maria picked it up.
“I don't think they were expecting us to be here. They got themselves into an ambush and got pinned down. They would have had to expose themselves to escape.”
“Different leader, more willing to fight?” Frank offered.
I mulled it over. It felt like there was more to it, but I couldn't tease it out.

“When are you supposed to get relieved, Maria?”
“ One o'clock”
That was several hours off.
“You and your people cool 'til then?”
She stood a little straighter. “Absolutely!”
“Cool. We'll give you some of this ammo. We'll load it in mags for you before we leave. You OK for food? Water?”
“Yes sir. We're good to go. The extra ammo will be gratefully received.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. I counted out eight of them and handed them to her.
“Buy your people a couple of rounds when you get off duty. Then get some food and rest. We'll need you sharp before long. I took a couple of minutes to give her a quick run down on what had happened at the other OP over by Four Corners.

“So you think this is a prelude to a full out attack?”
“I do.”
“Good.”
I looked at her, surprised.
“We need to settle this. Those bastards will continue to plague us. We need to wipe them out. I might not know much about military matters, but Lavell was telling me that we are better off being the defender rather than the attacker. So if they are coming to us, well be ready.”

I was glad to see her determination and hoped it wouldn't end up being misplaced or mispent. Anyway, it was time to go. We had much to do.
“Thanks for what you did here. You and your people did very nice work. Make sure they know I appreciate it.”
“Thank you sir.” She couldn't hide the grin the praise brought out. “And thanks for the drinks!” She held up the hand holding the coins bearing a caricature of a mustacioed gunfighter.
“What should we do with the bodies?” Virgil inquired. Stan and his team stood around after finishing up collecting all the equipment.
“Leave them there!” one of the men suggested
“They will smell and attract vermin.” Maria warned.
“Load them in the truck and we'll dump them further down the road.” I settled it.

We drove a half mile past the OP, and stopped on a stretch of road some distance from any houses. The men threw the bodies on the ground, trying to touch them as little as possible. Frank and I dragged them, one by one, to the side of the road, propping them up with their backs to the bank, as if they were all sitting next to each other. Soon there was the macabre sight of a dozen men sitting by the side of the road. Their faces were all distorted to one degree or another by the coup de grace shots from the clean up crew.

That done we headed home. It was only mid morning, and I'd already had a full day. And it hadn't even really started yet.

 

Thank you Sir...

 

Bingo!

 

Doin' great, keep up the good work!

 

Wow! That woke me up and started the day right…love them group gatherings, family sort of thing! ;-)

 

More like 5,000. Dedicated. Readers. Reading. And. Re-Reading. But hey, who's counting?

 

Time for a bounty on toads…say 3 Zeds for a head…or pair of ears and left hand ;-)

 

Glad to see another couple of chapters.

 

Burning a lot of gasoline on this project; need to introduce a Diesel burner…burning rendered toad fat and such;-)

Yes, I'm enjoying the read…even when some words must be left out.

 

This story is very much enjoyed and appreciated, Zen.

 

We could use the toad brains all cooked up and sech to tan their rotten hides…brain tan! Of course, folks keep blowing them all over the road and bushes…so all we get is raw toad hide ;-)

 

And here's a little something for your weekend...
Returning home, I gathered a planning group together at Jacob's house for a working lunch. Dupont and Johnson as my gray haired elders, Lavell, Stan, Juice, as my team leaders. Doc and Denise to cover medical issues. And Sadie and Sandy on the logistics side of things.
It was a somber group that met, gathered together in Jacob's living room. I related to them everything that had transpired, the two attacks at the OP near Four Corners, and the most recent probe at our western OP. I covered the information that Leg Wounds had provided, deleting the details of how it was obtained.
“So that's it then, they're coming for us.” Statement, not question from Mr. Johnson.
“Sure looks that way” Mr. Dupont concurred.
“Isn't there anything we can do to prevent this?” Doc asked. “Give them some of the food? You'd think they'd rather get some of it without having to fight for it, rather than taking losses in a fight, to get all of it.” He looked around for support, which he didn't find.
“Guess you never read “Dane Geld” was Mr. Johnson's reply.
“Never heard of it.”
“A poem by Rudyard Kipling. He rightly points out that if you try to pay your enemy to go away, you are insuring that he'll be back with more demands for payment.”
“Let's take the fight to them.” Stan offered.
I was about to answer, but saw Lavell had it. “We are outnumbered four or five to one. We are in no position to attack them.”
“But we don't want to fight them here, do we?” Sandy was uneasy with the prospect. “We're stuck here, with our backs to the ocean. We have nowhere to go if we are losing the fight.”
Sandy was starting down a bad road and needed to be turned around, quickly, before she took anyone with her.
“First, we're not trapped. We have an exit out to the east if we need it. But we won't. It won't get to that point.”
“How can you be sure? The odds are against us.”
“No. No they aren't. The numbers are against us, but the odds aren't”
She looked at me for an explanation.
“Sure, there are a hundred of them, and only thirty or forty of us. But we have some serious advantages. We are better trained than they are, better prepared, and better motivated. Those are huge advantages that more than make up for the numbers.”
Dupont, ever the realist said, “That 'thirty or forty' number is a bit misleading isn't it? That's all of us, not just the people on the teams. Many of them just have pistols.”
I looked at Lavell, who took his cue. “We have five teams, lead by myself, Lyle, Juice, Stan, and Zed. They each have four members, so we're looking at twenty people that are our core. They are well armed and we've got them trained up pretty well. The daily patrols are helping, not just with training, but in building team cohesion. The teaching they are doing for our allies is helping too.”
Lavell, paused for a moment, but there were no interruptions, so he plowed ahead. “We have another eighteen people that are sort of part timers. They're doing other things to support themselves, but are willing to put in some time each day to help. I've put them on our static posts. The upper chicane, and the western OP. They've been trained to respond quickly to the chicane if the horn blows, basic marksmanship, and the elements of moving and providing covering fire.”
He paused again, so I prompted him. “How are these eighteen armed?
“All of them have pistols, all semi autos with high capacity magazines. They all have at least one spare magazine. Those are their guns, that they keep and maintain. We have a couple of shotguns. They stay at the roadblock and are shared, used by who ever is on guard duty. Everyone has a basic understanding of how to use it.”
Lavell had a question for me. “Are any of the weapons we just picked up available?”
I'd already thought about it, so I was ready with an answer. “You can have four of them, I have plans for the others.”
He nodded, at least partially satisfied. “Cool. That at least puts a long gun into the hands of everyone standing post. Just so you know, I've trained everyone on how to operate an AR and AK. They don't have much time on them, but they can run one if it's available.”
“Shades of Stalingrad” Mr. Johnson couldn't keep help himself. Everyone looked at him to expound on his cryptic statement. He continued once he had his audience. “The Soviets at the German siege of Stalingrad, didn't have enough rifles for all of their soldiers. Instead, they issued each soldier with five rounds of ammunition and sent them into battle, there to pick up a discarded rifle from a soldier who'd been killed.”
I kicked myself for not preempting his history lesson, as I saw the gains I'd made with Sandy's confidence, wiped away.
“Only difference, professor, is this time, we will be picking up the enemies rifles, not our own.” I countered, hoping my gung-ho pronouncement regained lost territory.
I looked back at Lavell. “Thanks for the report. Get with me after the meeting and I'll see if I can get your people some more spare mags.”
He nodded and I moved on, setting my sights on Doc Shoemacher and Denise. “Doc, we're going to take some causalities. What position are you in to deal with them?”
“I've been thinking about it since our visit to Four Corners this morning. You know, I'm kind of amazed by that.”
“How so, Doc?”
“Well, we had three attacks, two at one OP and one at the other, and none of our people got hurt.”
I quickly knocked on the wooden armrest of the chair I was sitting on. “Damn Doc, don't jinx us! Part of that was preparation, and part of it was luck. We can count on preparation, but luck can go the wrong way for even the best prepared person.”
“Oh, I get it, Zed. I understand, just saying that we've done well so far. But yes, we may take casualties in what's coming, so we're taking some steps to deal with it. Right now Fiona is working in an abandoned house near the lower roadblock, setting it up as an aid station. We don't have enough room here for more than one or two injured people, and there's just too much going on for it to be conducive to providing care.”
So that's where Fiona was. I'd been wondering, not that I missed her. “Sounds good Doc. What else you got?”
“We're going to set up my pick up as an ambulance. I've got a couple of people working on making some stretchers using pillow cases and some saplings as poles. Figured to leave a couple at the upper roadblock and two in the truck.”
“Good work Doc. When will you be finished with all of that? Do you need a hand to complete it?
“Nah, we're good, I think. Should have it all done by dinner time.”
“Cool. Denise, you have anything to add?”
Denise got out of her chair and stood where everyone could see her. I knew most of what she was going to say, so this was mostly for the benefit of the others.
“Beyond the initial first aid training I gave everyone, I've gone through and given refreshers to everyone. Rehashed what they'd already learned to give them some repetition for retention, as well as giving them practical exercises so they could practice. Self aid as well as helping others.”
She continued here report, “Thanks to Zed breaking into his own supplies, every team has one purpose made tourniquet. That's not enough, obviously, so Fiona and I have made up our own versions so people don't have to improvise and have something ready to use.
Same thing with the Isreali bandages. Every team has two of them. We've improvised more with Ace bandages, maxi-pads, and small wood blocks to act as pressure bars. Every person under arms has a self aid kit including these items. Questions?”
Nobody had any and she sat back down.
“Sadie, Sandy, what should we do about feeding people while this is going on?”
They looked at each other. Sandy nodded and Sadie stood. “We'll keep the kitchen going like usual for the people that are still depending on it. We've got plenty of MREs, we've been giving them to the guys going out on patrol. We can keep doing that, maybe give them a couple of days' worth to keep with them. In general, we're doing OK overall, between the stockpile, the gardens, and the seafood we're getting from the Frenchies, we'll be OK. We're sustainable for the near term anyway. We'll need to run some projections and make some decisions, but that can wait a week or so.”
Sadie was just sitting down when Mr. Johnson spoke up. “Well, we have a pretty good idea about what the threat is, and what we have in place to deal with it. Zed, can you tell us 'how' we're going to deal with the threat? Do you have a plan, or are you going to play it by ear?”
“Sure I've got a plan, but you know the old saying about plans and their not surviving contact with the enemy, so we're going to have to play some of this by ear. Being flexible and ready to switch gears and exploit openings when they appear.”
Johnson nodded. “Sure. I get that. But what's your actual plan?”
I met his gaze. “I'm going to trade with him.”
“You're not leaving me here!” Sadie wasn't happy with me. We'd concluded the meeting a short while ago, after I'd laid out the details of my plan to trade with the gang bangers. Everyone had been given their assignments and they'd all gone of to do them.
Mine was to take a group to Four Corners. I needed to talk to the Frenchies and reinforce that position. Sadie want to go with.
“Sweetie, it's going to be dangerous. It's going to be a fast moving situation that I'm going to have to respond to quickly. If I'm worried about you, that could get in the way of me doing my job.”
“You're worried I'll get hurt or killed?”
I nodded.
“And you admit you might get hurt or killed?”
Again I nodded my agreement.
“Then it makes absolute sense that we're together. Where would you want to be if I was hurt?”
“Right there with you.”
“Why don't you think I'd want the same thing?”
I didn't have an answer for her.
“Do you think I'll hold the team back? That I can't hold up my end?”
“No Sweetie, it's not that at all.”
“I know it's dangerous. One, or both of us might get killed. I don't want to be somewhere else when that happens. And I might be able to prevent it. Don't you want my support? Have I ever failed when I was backing you up? In anything?”
I sighed. I knew before I started that this would be an argument I wasn't going to win. That I put it out there was just pro forma. It's true that I'd be worried about her, and it might be somewhat distracting for me, but having her along would have more positives than downsides. She could tell from watching me for a quarter century that I'd given in, before I had a chance to say it.
We checked our gear one more time before putting it one and heading out. We'd fed the pups and gave them some extra loving, and closed the gate behind us. Sandy would feed and care for them if we were delayed for any reason. Still, it hurt, seeing their sad expressions as they watched us walk away, knowing we might not see them again. I hoped they'd be well taken care of.
We walked in silence to Jacob's. I was glad to set down the chainsaw and my pack while we waited for the rest of the team to assemble. The saw would be awkward to carry and I knew I'd come to loathe it, but we wouldn't be carrying it the whole way and it would be worth the effort.
Denise was already on Jacob's porch when we got there. She and Sadie talked quietly. I wasn't in the mood. The door opened and out walked Jacob, fully kitted out. He was pale and had lost a lot of weight, mostly in muscles not used. Being slender, he couldn't afford what he'd lost.
I smiled to see him and greeted him warmly, dreading what came next. We bro hugged, somewhat awkwardly with the rifles slung in front of us clanging together and threatening to get tangled.
“Good to see you doing so well!” I opened
“Thanks Zed.”
“Doc know you're up and active?”
Jacob looked away. “He's been encouraging me to get up and move around.”
I smiled at his half truthful evasion. I knew where he was going, and moved to head him off.
“We'll I'm glad of it, because I need you. You've been slacking off for long enough.”
He visibly swelled at that and damned if his color didn't improve. He'd been worried about how I'd receive him and was relieved. Now to deflect him carefully without damaging the gain we'd just made.
“I've got a serious job and I don't have anyone else that can handle it. You up for it?”
Jacob smelled a trap and was getting ready for a let down. “What is it?”
“Does it matter?
He gave me a one shoulder shrug. Time to treat him like a man.
“Look. I know you want to come with us. I want you to come with us. When I went hunting Threeballz, who'd I take with?”
We both knew the answer, so he didn't say anything.
“But dude, you're not in shape yet. So as much as you want to come along, and as much as I want you to, it just doesn't make sense. And I'm not kidding, I've got something else for you, that's just as important. Cool?”
He looked me in the eye and took a steadying breath. “Cool”
Frank and Virgil showed up a couple of minutes later. If they were surprised to see Sadie, they didn't show it. Actually, having known her for a decade or more, there was no reason for them to be surprised.
We set off up the road. I held my hand up against the horizon. Five fingers between Sun and horizon. It was going to be tight, we'd probably come into Four Corners just after sundown.
We were making good time, despite the ungainly chainsaw. Frank, Virgil and I took turns carrying it, switching often, so no one was unduly burdened.
A mile out I found what I was looking for and called a halt. Taking the saw from Frank I pumped the bulb, set the choke and pulled the cord. The Stihl fired right up and it made quick work of what I needed done.
Ten minutes later we were back on the march. We repeated the process twice more in places that lent themselves to our plans. And as I predicted, the last stages of twilight provided just enough illumination for the guards manning the Four Corners road block to watch me take my hat off and scratch my head.