Original Work The Unwelcome Sign

Now to return home running a gauntlet - you could give the ( Walking Dead ) a run for there money!

 

We stood in the yard of Doc Shoemacher's house, not too far from the first gangbanger that the Doc shot before we arrived.
“You guys are like the cavalry” said an obviously relieved doctor as he shook hands all around.
“Timing is everything” I replied with a smirk.
“When you all get done with the tearful reunion, we should get moving”
I looked at Juice. “Hey, we were having a moment here!” we grinned at each other. Funny how you silly you can get in stressful situations. I guess it's a coping mechanism.
I tossed Leslie my Jeep keys. “Why don't you guys bring our vehicles around. Sweetie, do you mind keeping watch?”
Sadie looked at the Doc's house. “How about from up there?” She nodded at his upstairs windows and looked at both of us.
“It's OK with me.”
“Good call Sweetie. Doc, start loading your vehicle. We can put stuff in our vehicles too. We won't be coming back so bring everything you want.”
Sadie and the Doc turned to go inside. I turned towards the corpses. I walked over to the first one that the Doc had shot in his yard. I bent down and picked up the pistol from near his outstretched hand. A Taurus 9mm. Pulling the mag out, I racked the chamber, ejecting a cartridge. I picked it up and put it in the magazine and put it back in the pistol.
I started to reach to go through the corpse's clothing, when I stopped and reconsidered. I swung the pack off my back and set it on the ground in front of me. Opening the first aid pocket, I grabbed a pair of nitrile gloves and put them on.
No need to pick up Hepatitis or what other crap these guys might be carrying. I checked his belt line and pockets, coming up with several small bags of marijuana, some cash, and a crappy Pakistani lock back folding knife. The gold chains around his neck and wrists came off.
He had one of those backpacks where the drawstings are the carrying straps. Rather than wrestle it off of him, I cut the straps, trying first, unsuccessfully with the Paki folder, then resorting to my Bowie.
Dumping the contents revealed a partial water bottle, a magazine, probably for the Taurus, a partial box of 9mm ammo, some small ziplock bags with white powder, and some other odds and ends of no consequence.
Finished, I looked up as Doc Shoemacher came out with an armload of his belongings which he loaded in his vehicle. Glancing up, I saw Sadie, barely. She was standing several feet back from the window, in the shadows. She could see out, but it was difficult to see her.
Juice and Leslie pulled up and double parked where the gangbangers' cars were. They started helping Doc load his belongings.

Moving to the front of the SUV, I picked up the AK, cleared it and checked the body for useful items. I repeated the process six more times. I laid out all of the guns; 2 AKS one of which was a sweet Yugo underfolder, a Mossberg 500 shotgun in 12 gauge, and eleven pistols varying from a Springfield 1911 to a 9mm HiPoint.

I also had quite a pile of drugs and gold jewelry.

Going through the vehicles turned up some more ammo and drugs, and in the back of the SUV quite a few cases of canned food and bottled water. Someone was planning ahead. The other nice thing the SUV had was a 12volt DVD player. The kind with two screens that attach to the headrests of the front seat to keep kids entertained. They got pulled and put on the pile.

The most ridiculous thing I found was four large flat panel TVs crammed into the back seat of the smallest of the two sedans. Guess he didn't get the memo about the power being out. Or chalk it up to 'hope springs eternal'.

Having piled up everything of use from the vehicles I pause for a moment. My eyes rested on the car keys lying on the ground. Did we want the cars? Nah, I guess not. Hmmm. Gas and batteries might be useful.
Running over to our Jeep I pulled the tool kit out of the back and brought it over to the cars. Within a couple of minutes the batteries joined the growing pile of stuff in the yard. I didn't undo the terminals from the battery posts, but rather used diagonal cutters to snip the leads as far down as I could.

I selected a large philips screwdriver and hammer and put them on the ground near the rear of the SUV. Juice and Doc were both in the yard, one going, one coming.
“Hey, Doc, you have any gas cans around?”
“I have one, but it's empty” he answered
“I have one for my dingy in the back of my truck”
“Cool. Where's your's Doc?”
“In the shed around back.”

I walked back to the shed and retrieved the gas can, a five gallon model. There was funnel handy, next to it. Glancing around I noticed there were some garden tools hanging from the walls. And what might have been seed packs in a box on the workbench.

Back at the SUV, I pulled the floor mats out and laid them on the ground by the rear bumper. As an afterthought, I found a fallen twig, snapped off a couple of inches and sharpened one end like a pencil.

With everything I needed close to hand, I took off my shirt and got on my back and shimmied under the back of the SUV. The gas tank was right above me. With the funnel in the gas can nearby, I put the tip of the screwdriver at the lowest point of the gas tank and used the hammer to punch it through.

I 'knew' it was safe, but it still gave me the willies. I hit the driver a little harder with each shot. The metal dented and then finally gave way, the screwdriver punching all the way in to the handle. A small amount of gasoline started to drip down the handle. Now the fun part.

 

I got the gas can as close as I could and then pulled the driver out. As the gas started streaming out, I slid the can under it so the funnel could catch it. A fairly small stream, it would take a minute or two to fill the can. I got Juice's tank ready for the switch.

His was a mobile tank for dingies. It was designed to take out of the boat and go to the gas station to fill up. It held five gallons and was fairly flat, only about four or five inches high.
The first can was full, so I switched them, pushing the first out from under the car. As the second one became full, I got the twig ready. Pulling the tank out of the way I crammed the twig in the hole to seal it. A drop or two came out before it swelled to seal the hole.

I shimmied back out and took the cans and started filling our vehicles. Five gallons in our Jeep, five in Juice's. And then back under the SUV to continue the process.

The SUV was a piece of cake compared to the low ground clearance sedans. If we'd had more people with us we could have just tipped them up on their sides to access the gas tanks.

Doc's can was too tall to fit under the cars, so the process was slowed by having to only use Juice's tank. Still, gas was too precious to waste. It was worth the effort. By the time I drained the last car I had filled up all three of our cars and had ten gallons in the cans.

Surprisingly, all three cars had been almost full. Which made me think that this gang had access to gas somewhere, somehow.

Done with the gas, I helped the other three moving Doc's things. His vehicle was full and we were packing ours next. Finished at last we stood in the yard around the pile of things from the gangbangers. I picked up one of the AKS and handed it to Doc. I was about to ask if he was familiar with them when he pulled the mag, ran the bolt and checked the chamber.
“I love Aks!” he had a great big smile on his face.
“Well, you needed a rifle. Merry Christmas. To the victors go the spoils as the old saying goes. Let's take turns picking from the guns. I made five piles of jewelry about as equal as I could. Pick from them also. I've got plans for the food and drugs if that's alright with you?”
Everybody nodded as they eyed the goodies. I ended up with the underfolder AK, and the shotgun, Sadie grabbed the 1911 and a little Ruger LCP in .380ACP. I watched as she checked that it was loaded and then slipped it into her back pocket. It was good to know she had a pistol that would be easy for her to always keep on her.
“Now, guys, the question is, what do we do with the bodies?”
“Should we bury them?” asked Leslie sincerely.
“We could burn them.” his dad added.
“Both of those would require a lot of work. Burying them is really out of the question. With the family across the street, that's twelve bodies.” Sadie was nothing if not practical.
“Won't leaving them around spread disease?” asked Juice.
Doc replied, “that's actually a misconception. Diseased bodies can spread disease, but healthy bodies, not so much. They do smell and attract animals though”
“This is just the beginning. There are going to be many more bodies before this is over. We can't handle them all. I think we just need to worry about sanitation in our neighborhoods. So I vote we leave them as is.” I looked to see if anyone had anything to add.
They just stood, staring. I think they were getting a picture of what the future was going to look like.
“Next question. Do we go through the house with the dead family for useful items?”
“It doesn't belong to us” It was good to see that Juice had instilled strong morals in his son.
“No, but who does it belong to? We killed the people that killed them. If we aren't entitled to it, who is? Some of this stuff in the pile that we just picked from might have come from that house. Is it OK for us to take it?” I didn't get an answer to my question.
“If we don't take it, someone else will, someone who doesn't have any right to it either. Might as well be us. We earned it” You could see Juice working through the logic.
While Juice and Leslie watched the vehicles from the same window as before, the rest of us went through the house quickly. The food was all gone, as was the jewelry, not that that was something we were interested in. The bathroom yeiled perscription and OTC drugs, toilet paper, various hygene supplies and towels. I filled several boxes with books and games from the bedrooms. The older boy's bedroom is where I hit paydirt. A telescope on a tripod and a pair of Motorola FRS walkie talkies.
We met in the living room. “most of this stuff we wouldn't think twice about in normal times. But not knowing if we can ever get something as simple as garbage bags or bed sheets, makes me want to take everything. There's no more going to K-Mart for cheap Chinese products”
We all looked at Sadie and understood the impact of her words.
“There's plenty of mundane things we could take, but we are running out of space and we've left Stan alone plenty long” I reminded them. I saw eyes widen as they remembered the scene when we left that morning.
“Well, let's go then” Juice headed for the door and we all followed.
“Listen” I stopped them before they got in their cars. “Let's go home a different way. Instead of King Mountain rd, let's take Ships Bay rd. It's a little bit more roundabout, but we should get used to using different routes. We'll lead off. Juice, you want to take the tail?”
“You know I like tail” was his smartassed reply.
We drove to the end of the neighborhood and hung a left towards Ships Bay. The good news was we wouldn't have to worry about someone setting up and ambush on the road we drove in on.
The bad news is we didn't know what we'd find on this one.

 

Both the Doc and I lived on the Northside of the island. It's rural, with some areas zoned for agricultural use. Traditionally it was populated by 'Frenchies' a term that used to be derogatory, but has since lapsed into acceptability. Frenchies are descendants of French Hugenots that fled their country's persecution centuries ago and fled to the Caribbean. Many settled on St Barts. Several groups moved to St Thomas a number of generations ago. One group settled on the Northside and made it their own.

These are fiercely independent people who fend for themselves. Predominantly by making a living from the sea. They supplement fish with goats that they have seeded the small outlining islands with, and various crops that thrive in our climate and soil. Guava, mango, papaya, and of course coconuts.

Being insular and clannish, they tend to solve 'problems' in their own way. When I first moved here a bit more than two decades ago, there was a common story of a Frenchie girl getting raped. The rapist was found, killed, his genitals cut off and put in his mouth, and then hung by the neck from a tree. Probably in that order.
His body hung there for a week or more. Neither the police, nor the family were brave enough to claim the body.

Hunting the goats requires guns, so many of them are armed. Some of them even legally. And most of those have passed through my firearms classes, or have seen me on the range. Which was fortunate considering that I didn't have time to stop a safe distance from the roadblock that was cunningly placed just around a blind turn.

I came to a quick stop, my bumper not ten yards from the two cars parked crossways in the road. Two very weathered men of indeterminate age, both armed with rifles stood behind the roadblock. A quick glance in the mirror showed Doc and Juice right behind me. No backing out of this one.

The pair manning the roadblock snapped their rifles into their shoulders. Sadie and I reflexively shrunk down in our seats. I contemplated grabbing my rifle and rolling out my door, when I heard a voice from the bush about thirty feet to my left.

“Zed? That you?”
I raised up to look, not seeing anything at first. Then first a rifle barrel and a face, and then an elbow and a shoulder appeared from behind a boulder.
“Hey George” I greeted the now familiar face. Tall, rail thin, with a long red hair done in, you guessed it, a french braid, came out of the bush and walked towards us.
He came up to the window and looked in. “Afternoon Sadie” he smiled at her.
“Afternoon George. That boulder have a broken lock?”
He laughed. George and his brother were locksmiths and Sadie threw them quite a bit of business from her property management company. Well, at least she did before whatever it was happened.
“Good job on the roadblock dude” I complimented him. “I didn't stand a chance. You having any trouble up here?”
“No, and we don't plan to. Where you coming from?”
I told him about our morning.
“Good to have a doctor. Mind if we come by if we need him?”
“No man, you're good. Just be careful coming in. By the way, we're monitoring marine channel 18 if you need to talk to us.”
“Cool man. How you fixed for ammo?”
“I've got some, whaddya need?”
“We're Ok at the moment, I was thinking about later.”
“Understood. We can probably work something out in trade.”
“Sounds good.” Just then he took off his hat and scratched his scalp with his left hand. Which was a lightbulb moment.
“That!”
“That what?”
“That'll be a sign we can use. Us good guys. Take off your hat with your right hand, scratch your head with your left. If something is wrong change it. Just take off your hat and don't scratch, or use the wrong hands. Make sense?”
You could watch the wheels turn. A moment later the cogs fell in place.
“Yeah, I can see that would be a good idea. Just have to be careful about who we show it to.”
“Yup. It's like a secret handshake, but can be seen from a distance. It'll help when we're dealing with people we don't know. Eventually we'll have to start trading with each other, after things settle down.”
“I'll pass it on to our people. Good people only.”
“Good people only”
“Good seeing you. Let's stay in touch”
“Channel 18. Good seeing you. Keep your head down and stay safe brother.”

George waved us through the road block. The cars were staggered so you could weave between them very slowly so they wouldn't have to move them. And we were on our way.

 

“Stan, you gotta copy?” We were nearing our neighborhood and I'd been getting more and more worried the closer we got. “Stan, can you read me?”
“Hey Zed, how'd it go?” I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding.
“We had some trouble, but we're all OK. How about you?”
“Same here. I'll tell you about it when you get here. What's your ETA?”
“About five or six minutes.”
“See you then.”

Our little convoy turned into our neighborhood. We stopped outside of Stan and Sandy's house and beeped the horn. Sandy looked out of a window, saw it was us and came out the front door. I was glad to see Stan's 9mm AR in her hand.
“Just wanted to let you know we were back and Stan will be able to come home shortly.”
“Thanks Zed. We had a little to do while you were gone, but we took care of it. No problems.” Sandy's smile twinkled with mischief.

“Can't wait to hear about it. We'll have him home to you soon. Thanks for lending him to us.”
“You're welcome. Glad to help.

Carol and Johns were standing in her yard, guards sitting in their chairs by her door. They came over to the street, Johns standing in it, forcing us to stop.
“What's all this, then?” Carol demanded.
“None of your business Carol” Sadie shot back.
“It is my business, as President of this community”
I leaned over towards Sadie where I could see Carol. “Tell Johns to move, we would like to get home, we've had a tough morning killing bad guys and rescuing good guys. I'm ready for a nap, or I might get cranky.”
Carol's eyes widened and she leaned away from us. “You killed people?! You're not serious. You're joking, right?”
Sadie answered, “What do you think is going on out there Carol? Eight gang members were trying to kill the doctor behind us in the middle car. That's after they killed two children and raped their mother while they made their father watch, tied to a chair. So yes, we killed people.”

Johns had moved over to where he cold hear and caught the last part of the conversation.
“If you shot people you need to report this to the police.”
“I just did. Oh wait, it's been a while since you've reported for duty, hasn't it?”
While he sputtered trying to come up with an answer, I drove past them, Carol looking daggers at us.

Coming up to the Quinn's I noticed their cars were still missing. Jacob was in the yard, bow in hand, quiver over his back. He ran over to us, I stopped and rolled down the window on Sadie's side so we could talk.
“Have you seen my parents?” He was obviously distraught.
“No Jacob, we've haven't” Sadie answered
“They never came home. I'm really worried about them. Why wouldn't they come home? There must be something wrong! I need to go help them! Will you give me a ride to go look?”
What do you say to that? Ugh. I deflected.
“We just got back and we need to unload all of this. I'll come and talk to you about this a little later, OK?”
He nodded and turned back to go sit on his porch. Poor kid. The not knowing must be eating him up.

“Macie still isn't home.”
“I don't think she's coming home.”
“I wonder what happened?”
“We'll probably never know. She might have gone to stay with other people, family or friends.”
“And leave her dog?!”
“You know some people are like that. Abandon their pets in normal times. And these aren't normal times. And it's possible that something has happened to her.”
“I'm going to bring that poor dog some food and water.”
“We need to think about that.”
“Yeah, you're right. Whatever we give that pup is food we're taking away from our babies.”
“Might be best to just put it down. But I don't want to think about that right now. Why don't we give it a little food today. We can decide tomorrow. Maybe Macie will come back.”

 

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Stan met us at the gate. He had a silly, yet self satisfied grin on his face. We gathered round and he gave Doc a hearty handshake.
“Good to see ya, Doc! Glad you made it here OK”
“Me too. These guys got there just in time!”
I jumped in, “We'll tell you all about it in a minute, but what happened here? I've been worried ever since we left.”
The grin returned to his face. “Well, I took your advice and climbed up to the look out spot with the binoculars and watched for a while. You weren't gone more than a few minutes when Carol, Johns, and one of the security guys headed this way.
I didn't really want to deal with them, so I figured that I needed a distraction. I called Sandy on the radio and told her to step out into the yard and fire a bunch of rounds in the air.”
He looked at me. “Don't worry Zed, she aimed out over the ocean.
I nodded and gave a thumbs up, and he continued. “I was watching them the whole time. They froze when they heard the shots. It was funny! They were like statues. Then they started talking, then arguing. I think Carol wanted Johns to go check what it was and he didn't want to.”
We all gave a chuckle.
“So what did they do then?” prompted Leslie.
Carol stomped off. Johns looked this way for a moment, then he and the other guy left too.”
“So they never made it here? They didn't try again?”
“Nope” again with the grin.
“I'm surprised they were outside when we came through,” said Juice “I would have figured they would be too afraid to come out of their houses.”

“Well, that happened just after you left, which was quite a while ago. They did stay inside for a long time. About an hour ago I saw Carol stomp over to Johns' and bang on his door. She argued with him some more and he finally got in his car and drove around the neighborhood a couple of times. I guess he gave the all clear after that.”
“Phew! Good thinking! The best fight is the one you don't have.”
There was a round of congratulations and fist bumps, then we took turns filling Stan in on the rescue mission.
“I sorta wish I had gone with you, and I' real glad I wasn't” he said when he heard our story.
“Yeah, I'll be watching reruns of that in my dreams for a while.” I replied. Everyone got somber at that point, contemplating the morning and what it implied for the future. Not wanting them to dwell, I broke in. “Let's leave Doc's stuff in his and our cars, but we need to unload Juice's so he can head home.”
“Where do you want this stuff?” Juice asked. I looked at Sadie who shrugged, “We don't really have a good place for it.”
“it's just temporary, I have a plan. Let's just stack it up in the living room for now.
Finished shifting Doc's belongings from Juice's truck, it was time for them to leave.
“I hate for you to drive home alone.”
“If you followed me, then you'd have to drive home alone.”
“Any thought about moving?”
“Where would we go? And we have a cop as a neighbor.”
“True, and a good one, not like ours. Would you reconsider if I came up with a place?”
“I might. I like the idea of being around friends.”
“Yup, and it will become more and more important as we go along.”
Stan walked over. “Give me a ride up the hill?”
“Certainly”
I shook Stan's hand as he climbed in the back of the truck. “I noticed Sandy had your rifle when we passed. You don't have a pistol for her, do you?”
“No, I never managed to get a second pistol registered.”
I reached around behind me and pulled a S&W MP9 out of my belt and handed it to him.
“Thanks for yours and Sandy's help today. I appreciate it. I've got a holster and spare mags for it, I'll drop them off next time I see you.”
“Awesome! Thanks Zed! You know you don't have to do this.”
“I know, I know. I can spare it and you guys need it. It does all of us good for Sandy to be armed.”
“You guys ready?” Juice started the truck. I banged on the fender, stepped back and watched them drive off.

 

Sadie came out of the house with a jug of water and a bowl of dog kibble. Doc Shoemacher followed. We went over to Macie's apartment. The dog set to barking when we got close, jumping up to see over the railing, nearly strangling itself.
It continued to bark until Sadie set down the food. Then it plunged it's snout in and started gobbling like there was no tomorrow. While it was distracted with eating, Sadie filled the waterbowl.
The Doc and I came over to where the dog could sniff us when it was done eating. It looked at us a moment and then went back to eating. I looked at it a bit closer, some sort of terrier mix I guessed. That's not so bad, terriers are brave, big hearted working dogs, despite their small size.
“You like dogs, Doc?”
“Why sure. Growing up we always had dogs.”
“Good” I replied, which earned me a quizical look. Going closer to the apartment, I looked in first one window and then another. Everything was neat and orderly. Nothing out of place.
“I don't think she's coming back”
The dog was allowing Sadie to pet it while it finished the last of its food. “why do you say that?”
“She didn't pack, everything looks like she was planning on coming back. Something's happened to her.”
“I think you're probably right. What are we going to do with the dog?”
“Well, that depends on the Doc.”
“Me? Why me?”
“I'm thinking this is your new home. If you want the dog, we'll figure out how to keep feeding it. If not, most humane thing we can do is put it down.”
“Yeah, we can't just let it go, that wouldn't be fair to it” Sadie looked down at the pup that was now curled up at her feet.
“You think I can move in here? What about the woman that lives here? That doesn't seem right”
“Well, we can give it another day or two, but I think she's gone. Dead if she's lucky. You might as well move in. Who else is going to use it? Worse comes to worse and she comes back, we move you back out and appologize. Give her something as rent. But I really don't see that happening.”
Doc was peering in the windows and looking around the yard. I could see him picturing living there, coming to terms with it. He was warming to the idea.
He sat down in a lawn chair on the porch and snapped his fingers. The dog raised it's head and looked at him, head cocked at an angle.
Doc patted the side of his calf, that had the pup up and walking over to him. Giving the doc a good going over with the sniffer, smelling the familiar scent of our dogs on his legs and condescending to having it's head scratched. Its turned in place twice and plopped down, laying across Doc's feet.
“Looks like you have a friend” I grinned.
“Looks like a girl, do you know it's name?”
I looked at Sadie who shook her head, “Nope, guess you'll have to give her a new one. That is, if you're staying...”
“Let's give, what her name, Macie, another day, then I'll decide”
“Cool, guess it's the couch for you tonight.”
“A better prospect than I had the way my day started out.”

 

“Hey Doc, give me a hand jockeying these vehicles around.” All three of our cars were outside of gate, parked one behind the other on the easement road in front of our gate. We moved the two full ones inside, all we had room for in the drive. The last Jeep, mine, I backed up to the gate, facing out, the way I usually park.

“Hey Sweetie, I'm going to take Doc up to the look out for a while. Wanna come?”
“No, you boys have fun in your fort, I've got things to do around here. You eat Spam Doc?”
“Well, sure. I'll eat Spam and be glad for it. Thank you.”

Binoculars around my neck and rifle in my hand we left the house. I looked back at Doc.
“You forgetting something?”
He stopped with a worried expression on his face. He patted his pockets and his pistol and then the light came on. He ran back in the house and was back in a second with his AK.
“Sorry, I'm not used to having a rifle.”
“It's a pain in the ass, but get used to keeping it with you as much as possible. The pistol should always be on you. No exceptions”
“After this morning, you don't need to tell me twice.”
We climbed up the short knoll and settled in. Everything seemed quiet.
“Good view from up here. These rocks would give good protection, wouldn't they?”
“Yeah, Sadie and I were thinking of building an observation post here. You can see a lot of the neighborhood from here” I handed him the binoculars. “You can follow the road up the hill, almost all the way up to King's Mountain road. You can especially see the switchbacks.”
I could see the Doc following the progress of the road as he moved the optics in a zig-zag pattern.
“People have to slow down on the switchbacks...” Doc was thinking of the tactical implications.
“Yup. That's the time to hit them. The furthest one is about 800 yards away. The closest is just under 200.”
“You have anything that can hit out at 800?”
I frowned, “Not really. I have a 20” heavy barrel upper with a 3-9x Leupold scope on it for my AR. I guess I could make hits at 800 but it would be a real stretch and the bullet wouldn't have much ummph left at that point.”
“We need a bigger gun”
“We need a bigger gun” I agreed.

 

The sun was starting to set when I remembered my promise to go visit Jacob. I stood, stretching. “Hey, listen, I need to go check on that neighbor kid that I talked to on the way in. You wanna come along?”
“Sure, good chance to see some of where I'm going to be living.”
We made our way off the knoll and down to the easement road and walked to the Quinn's house. Jacob was sitting on the porch, looking forelorn.
“Hey Jacob. How are you doing?
He didn't answer at first, just kept looking at the floor between his feet. I was just about the try to fill the awkward silence when he spoke.
“Will you help me find my parents?”
Shit. What do you say to that? His parents took stupid chances in dangerous circumstances, unprepared to deal with them. Now this kid wanted me to fix it. And it was probably too late to fix. If we went looking for them we'd put ourselves in danger, and for what? It's unlikely that we'd even find them, let alone find them alive.
I looked at Jacob and read the hope and expectation and fear fighting for dominance on his face. Poor kid. How do you say no to that? But how many times do I put me and mine at risk for others?
“Look. It's too late to do anything tonight. Let's talk about this tomorrow morning and decide what we can do then. OK?
Jacob looked away and didn't answer. It's obvious that's not what he wanted to hear.
“I'll be back in the morning. Goodnight Jacob.”
Still no response, so we turned and walked away.

Walking back to our house, Doc veered over to Macie's. “I wanna check on the dog, make sure she has enough water”
I just smiled to myself as I followed him.
“So, you going to help that kid find his folks?”
“Lord, I don't know. I don't really want to. I don't know exactly where to look, and I think it's a waste of time. But how can I turn down his request?”
“It's a tough one alright. If you go, I'll go with you.”
“Thanks Doc, I appreciate it. Let's see if supper is ready. I'm hungry enough to eat a horse made out of Spam.”
“Hey! I like Spam!” he grinned at me.
“Lucky for you.” I grinned back.

Sadie had done a bang up job on dinner, Fried Rice with Spam, using some veggies from her garden and rounding it out with powdered eggs. None of us spoke much, mentally and physically drained from the events of the day.
Everybody hates moving.

 

After dinner we moved to the porch where we could let the tranquil ocean calm us and let the trade winds blow our troubles away. At least that was the theory. Then I had to go and spoil it.
“Jacob wants me to help him find his parents.”
“Are you going to?” Accusation, disapproval, dread, women can inflect so much in four little words.
“Don't know. Don't want to. But how can I not?”
“It's not your problem!”
“No, no it's not, is it? But you weren't the one he was asking.”
“You want me to go tell him no? I will.”
“No, I'll do it.”
“You're going to go anyway, aren't you?”
“I don't know. It's a foolish idea, so much can go wrong. But how do I tell Jacob that I won't help him find his loved ones?”
“Well if you go, I go.”
I was about to argue, but I got the Look, and kept my mouth shut. I can be a slow learner, but after two and a half decades some lessons sink in to even the thickest skulls.
Sadie set Doc up with everything he needed for a comfortable night on the couch, and we all turned in. I was worried that I would have trouble falling asleep, but that wasn't the case.


Day 7
I woke with the dawn, feeling stiff and tired. I slept, but I don't think it was a good sleep. I started puttering around, getting my day started, the normal routine morning tasks made more difficult by a lack of electricity and having a house guest.

Whether it was the smell of coffee, or the sounds of me scrambling some powdered eggs, I don't know, but Sadie and Doc came into the kitchen. Coffee. It was the coffee. I poured a cup for the two of them and shoo'd them out of the kitchen.

We enjoyed a quiet breakfast, watching the start of another beautiful day. I cleaned up the breakfast mess, did the dishes, wiping them dry, and finally, I couldn't put it off any longer.

“I'm going to go talk to Jacob now.”
“I'll come with you.” Sadie wanted to give me support to make the hard choice.
“I'll feed Tonya. I saved some of my breakfast”
“Who's 'Tonya'” I asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to kid Doc a bit, who was looking kinda sheepish.
“I thought I would call the dog Tonya”
“Sounds like someone's in love” Sadie picked up the kidding
“Hey, I've got to call her something.”
Sadie handed Doc a cup of kibble. “Give Tonya my regards”

“Do I have to wear the body armor?”
“It's not very comfortable, is it?”
“It's hot, and it pushes my holster down so it rubs against me.”
“I guess not. We're only going to the neighbor's house.”

There was no question about the rifles. Not after yesterday. We picked them off the rack, slung them and did chamber and safety checks, and headed down the street.

Doc headed off to Macies and his new love, while we continued on to the Quinn's. Unlike yesterday, there was no sign of Jacob. I called his name and after not getting an answer, when up to the front door. I was going to knock, but stopped when I saw the note.
“I'm going to go find my parents. Don't come looking for me.”
Sadie came up next to me and read the note. “Well, that solves that.”
“Yeah, I suppose it does, but it makes me feel pretty shitty.”
“I know Sweetie, I know.” She rubbed my back, “We can't save everyone”
“Knowing it, and living with the knowledge are two different things.”

We turned and stepped off the porch, heading over to Macie's. Doc was playing tug of war with Tonya. Neither noticed us approach.
“You two seem to be hitting it off.”
“You think it's OK for me to move in here?” He looked first to Sadie, who didn't answer, and then to me.
“I think so. I think somethings happened to Macie and she's not coming back. And if she does, you move back out. We can pay her with some food or something else she needs for the trouble. But I really don't see that happening.”
That seemed to remove the doubt from Doc's mind.
“How do we get in? When can I start moving?”
“I'll get some tools, and right away.”

I used a 3' crowbar to spread the door frame away from the door enough for the tongue of the lock to be free of the mortise. This allowed me to swing the door open with a minimum of damage. Most contractors don't secure the frame properly to prevent just the sort of thing I just did. When we had a chance, we could pull the trim from around the frame and anchor it more securely.

Tonya ran past me, and sniffed everywhere, found a rope toy and jumped on the couch with it. We all entered tentatively, dealing with the idea that we were invading someone else's space. I've had numerous occasions to go into other people's houses when they weren't there, when I worked as a handyman. It always gives me the creeps until I get used to the space. I could tell the other two felt the same.

They'd get over it.

 

We brought our vehicles over and started unloading them. Poking around I found the lid to the cistern under a throw rug in the bedroom. I fashioned a handle from some cord and two short pieces of stick, one of which was pushed through the 1” opening in the lid, the other to act as a handle to lift the heavy 2' square piece of concrete.

Shining my flashlight down into the hole showed that it was at least three quarters full. I got down on hands and knees and stuck my head inside to get an idea of the dimensions. About ten feet deep, and twenty by thirty or so. Mucho agua.

I found a bucket with the cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink and tied a cord to the handle. Now Doc had all the water he could use.

Everything shifted from our cars, and showing Doc how to deal with water, it was time for Sadie and I to let Doc get used to his new digs.

“We'll check in later Doc”
“Hey, listen, I really appreciate your help.” He shook both our hands. “Really. If you two hadn't come by yesterday, I probably wouldn't have made it.”
I just shrugged it off, “I was just being selfish. Now I have a doctor as a next door neighbor, and another trigger puller, to boot.”
“You need anything, you let me know. I owe you. Big time”

Sadie and I had barely walked back in the door when it hit me, “Damn, we haven't checked our traps!”
“I hope we haven't doomed another chicken to mongoose food.”
I let out a big sigh, “It's just too much. I feel like we are always behind, always reacting to things. We need to get in front of the situation”
“Hard to do, when we don't know what the situation is, day to day. It'll get better once we establish new routines.”
“Yeah, people don't realize how much routines make life easier.”
“But being in a rut isn't any good either.”
“You're right, you're right. But I liked my rut. It was comfortable.” I shot Sadie a wink which she returned with a smile.
“I'm going to go check the snares down below. How are the chicks doing?”
“Fine. They seem to be settling in. I wish we had more feed for them. I hate using our wheat berries on them.”
“Add chicken feed to the list...” I said over my shoulder as I headed out the door.
A few moments later I found out why our chicks were still OK. Both snares held mongooses, and the mangled, now fly infested body of the baby chick was still in place.
The mongooses were obviously dead, being stiff, so I removed them from the snares and reset them. A mongoose dangling by the tail in each hand, I brought them back into our yard.
Loco and Rudi had been following my progress with great interest. “Sit!” Which they both did, instantly, focused intently on the varmints “Wait!” the drool valve was fully open. “Rudi.....OK.” Rudi came over and gently took a mongoose from my hand and ran off to find a quiet place to enjoy it. “Ok Loco,” she ran up and got hers, and ran in the opposite dircection from Rudi.
That should take care of dinner.

Back inside, I washed up in a bucket on the porch. Sadie handed me a towel. “How'dya do?”
“Got two. Reset the snares, Fed the pups.”
“Good! What about the chicken trap?”
“Let's take a walk up to see Mr. Charles. By the time we're done visiting with him it should be dark and we can check the trap.”

 

Mr. Charles was in his garden, weeding, when we arrived. I was pleased to see him facing the street while he was working. He noticed us coming and stood, stretching with hands in his back. I was also glad to see his revolver riding on his belt.

“Goodnight” Sadie and I chorused.
“'night” he responded. I don't know why, but 'good night' is used as a greeting, rather than as parting words here in the Caribbean. It felt awkward to use it that way for many years. It was much harder to get used to than driving on the lefthand side of the road.
“How's the garden going?” Sadie was examining the various rows, neatly laid out.
“Fine, fine. A bit more work watering it, now that I have to haul water by the bucket. Hard part is protecting it against pests”
“Yeah, I have to be constantly on the lookout for those damn green catipilars!”
“Not talking about bugs, Miss Sadie.”
“Carol and her crew been back?” I asked.
“Two legged pests. They'd ravage my garden if I let them. Pick it bare. And then what would they do, after that?”
“These people don't think that far ahead, Mr. Charles. So what happened?”
“Miss Carol and that goon of hers came by this afternoon, asking for more food. I had a little extra that I couldn't eat, so I gave it to them. They told me it wasn't enough.”
“It never is.”
“I told them I was glad to help others with my surplus, but I would decide what was enough. I put my hands on hips and didn't say anything else. Don't suppose it hurt that my hand was next to my gun.” he smiled, big.
“I don't know what's going to happen there, with their demands. It's going to get worse, as food is harder to come by. I don't see anyone doing anything to help themselves.”
“They're helping themselves alright. To my crops!” despite the pun, Charles was angry. “Somebody needs to do something about the uppity Miss Carol, acting all high and mighty, knows what's best for everyone. Something needs to be done.”
“What should that be?” I said, feeling him out.
“Don't know.”
“What are hearing from other folk? Is she making other people mad? Or do they support what she's doing?”
He paused to think a moment. “Couple of people I've talked don't like it one bit. But most folks thinks Carol's savior of the community. There's also some talk that some people are holding back, and not contributing even though they have more than they need.”
I shot Sadie a look. This was a dangerous development. Sadie turned to Charles, “any people in particular?”
“You can figure who it is. Same people that take exception to what Carol's doing.”
“Yeah, those of use that have planned ahead and take care of ourselves. Damn! This could very easily get out of hand.” I frowned, thinking. “We need to come up with a plan to deal with what is going to become a big problem soon.”
“We should all meet to discuss this.” Sadie looked at Charles “We'll get Stan and Doctor Shoemacher to be there, can you talk to the people that you think are on our side? Get them in on a meeting?”
“Well sure, I suppose so. When and where?”
“Sooner is better. Tomorrow afternoon?”
“That's Ok with me, would you like to meet here?”
“If you don't mind, you are centrally located.”
“No, I don't mind at all, would two o'clock work?
“Sure. We'll be there.”
“So Sadie, see anything you like? I've got some sugar cane starts put aside for you.”
Sadie was in heaven. She and Charles wandered off into the garden, talking. I called after them that I was going to head up to Stan's to let them know about the meeting. Both waved without turning, signafying that they heard me.

 

I'm hoping that at some point, walking up this hill will get easier. Happy dogs greeted me at the gate, with Stan not far behind. I told him about the meeting and the reason behind it.
“I think you're right, we need to figure out what we're going to do about this. I hate reacting to things, I'd like to get out in front of it.”
“exactly.” I agreed, “And not just the short term food issue, we need to be thinking longer term and we need to think about security too.”
“I thought Johns was taking care of security?” Stan said half jokingly
I didn't bother answering, just gave him a “What? Are you kidding?” look, which he answered with a crooked grin and a shrug of his shoulders.
“What? He's a cop. I thought he'd have the security situation all sewn up.” he was smiling broadly now.
“Yeah, we couldn't haven't gotten a good cop as a neighbor, could we?”
“Speaking of good cops, have you heard from Lyle?”
“I haven't. I texted him early on, but haven't heard anything since this started. I'm concerned. I'm sure he would have stayed on duty as long as possible. He may still be, for all I know.”
“It's tough not knowing what's going on. Is the government still functioning?”
“I have no idea. Probably in some manner. I heard that the Governor split and his PIO was covering the fact that he was missing.”
“That's quite a power vacumn. Somebody's probably stepped in to fill it.”
“Probably. But who? And good guy or bad? And what exactly do they control? It wouldn't surprise me if local leaders have taken control of their neighborhoods with the lack of police presence.”
“You mean like Carol?”
“We live in a remote, middle class area, where a 'Carol' can push her position as president of the HOA. I'm wondering what's going on in the housing communities. There was local power structures in place there before this happened, barely contained by the law. What's happening now that the leash is off?”
“I don't want to think about it.”
“Me either, but we'd better. At some point we won't have a choice. What were you saying about reacting to things?”
“Oh, I agree. I'll see you tomorrow then.”

I walked back down to Mr. Charles in time to see him and Sadie coming out of the garden, both of them laden with green growing things. Charles handed me a plastic rack, like the kind soda bottles are shipped in, now doing duty as a plant carrier.
“You take care of these for Miss Sadie now”
“Jeez! Didja give her half your garden!” I gave him a grin.
“Naw man, just some things I can spare. Fair trade for what she gave me the other day.”
I looked at Sadie, “Did you two have a good time?”
“Oh yes. Mr. Charles has an amazing garden. He's growing things I've never been able to get to grow here. He's giving me some great tips that I can't wait to try.”
Turing my gaze to Charles, I asked, “If you had the room, could you plant a bigger garden? I mean, do you have the seeds or starts or whatever for a bigger garden?”
“Well sure. Got plenty of seed put back, and can always propogate other plants. Whydya ask?”
“Just wonderins all, just wondering. Anyway, you done pestering Mr. Charles and ready to head home?” It's amazing how a woman, despite having her hands full, can still manage to gouge her elbow into your ribs.
We said our good byes and trudged towards home. Well, I trudged. Sadie was boyant with her new found plant wealth. We came to where our chicken trap was placed and decided to check to see if we had any luck.
Twilight, not as dark as I was hoping, but we were here and I didn't want to come back out later. Setting our plants down, we entered the bush, moving quietly. Soon we heard a clucking, which became more agatated as we got closer.
When we got to where we could see the trap, the chicken was putting up a full fledged ruckus.
Good news, we had a chicken in the trap. Bad news, it was, what's that saying? “Angry as a wet hen.” This one wasn't wet, but she sure was angry. More likely scared, actually. We neglected to bring a sack with us. I unslung my rifle and pack and pulled my t-shirt over my head. Squeezing into the opening of the trap, t-shirt stretched between my two hands, I tried to corner the hen.
Chickens have much better turning radius' than humans. Especially those in their mid 50s. I was hunched over, arms out in front of me, trying to corral the chicken. Several attempts resulted in the chicken zigging while I was zagging, and it getting past me.
This dance went on for a couple of minutes. On my last try, the hen ran right between my legs and saw the opening. I spun and lunged after it, tripping and falling face first, chicken just beyond arms reach as she scambled through the entrance of the trap.
Right into Sadie's arms.
We got her wings pinned against her body and shoved her into the t-shirt, her head sticking out one of arm holes. Immobilized, she calmed down remarkably.
Checking the snares, I found the reason why this chicken was still alive. One of the snares held a mongoose. One very alive, very pissed off mongoose.
It had managed to get on of its front legs in the snare which prevented it from strangling it. It saw me and started hissing angrily. These little guys are nasty little predators. They take on Cobras and win. What chance did I have?

 

Looking around until I found the right size and shape, I armed myself with a stick stout enough to do battle with a viscious varmint. We circled each other warily, him hampered by hopping on three legs and tethered by a steel cable. Me by arthritic ankles and dense bush.

I struck thrice, hitting the ground with the stick each time. We stood back, taking each other's measure. Shooting him would have been much simpler, but I didn't want to attract that kind of attention.
“Use another stick”
“Huh?”
“Use another stick to pin the wire down so he can't move.”
Which of course proved to do the job. Once pinned in place it was easy work to club him to death.

The closer you are to what you are killing, the more it affects you. Bomber pilots and artilleriests rarely see the death they cause. Even guns give you some stand off. Using contact weapons brings a real intimacy to death.

I freed the poor little bastard's bonelessly sagging body from the snare and quickly reset it. I put my pack and rifle back on, picked up the mongoose by the tail and joined Sadie as we walked home.

“You going to give that to the dogs?”
“I was planning to.”
“Can we use it to feed the chickens instead?”
“Will they eat it?”
“Probably, chickens will eat a lot of stuff, but Mr. Charles gave me an idea I'd like to try.”
“Sure. What's that?”
“Take a bucket, drill a bunch of holes in the bottom big enough for bugs to fall out of, and suspend the bucket about a foot or so off the ground. We take carrion and kitchen scraps and put them in the bucket with some straw or grass on top. Flies get in and lay eggs, larva form and fall out on the ground for the chickens to eat.”
“Sounds easy enough. Should probably set it up down wind, eh?”
“Yeah, I imagine it won't smell great. But we've been worried about what to feed them.”
“I was wondering how they would get along with the dogs? The entire yard is fenced and would keep them in. They could scrounge the whole yard for bugs.”
“We could give it a try. Train the pups to leave them alone. We'll have to keep the feeder where the dogs can't get it.”
“A seperate enclosure for just the chickens, but they come out into the yard sometimes?”
“I think that makes the most sense.”

Back at the house, we fed the pups and ourselves a late dinner and climbed into bed, tired from another tough day.

Ever wake from a dream utterly and totally relieved? The ones that are are so vibrant and realistic you think it's real? And things are Real Bad? The stituation gets worse and worse and finally you can't take it anymore and you wake up, sweaty, heart racing, with a dawning awareness that it was just a dream and you sag back down, drained and relieved?

Yeah, well, after the second one of those in a row, I got up, used the bathroom, padded around downstairs checking on things, patting the sleepy pups to reasure them, and then back upstairs. Looking down at Sadie showed she had been having a similar night. Bedclothes jumbled from her moving around, wrestling with whatever her dreams were throwing at her. She was twitching slightly, obviously in a REM state, and not a good one at that.

I brushed a lock of hair back from where it was stuck to her forehead with sweat. She stiffened at first then visibly relaxed when I continued to stroke her head, smoothing her hair. I readjusted the sheets, fluffing and cooling them and kissed her temple. She murmured and smiled a little.

I slid in on my side as gently as I could, and spooned with her, the contact reassuuring to both of us. Moments later I was asleep.

 

Day 8
“Hey, check this out!” Sadie was in one of her garden plots. I handed her a hose.
“Go on! Try it!”
Sadie squeezed the lever and water came out, just as you'd expect.
“You've got the water running?”
“Yes ma'am! No more pulling buckets out of the cistern.”
While Sadie was tending her garden, I'd spent the morning plumbing the 12volt DC water pump into our system. This was our first time we'd had a block of time to work on things around the house. Sadie used it to catch up on her neglected garden. I managed to get not only the pump installed, but the pannels set up, and the batteries and charge controller wired.

The pannels were just propped up at the moment, a temporary arrangement. I'd have to build proper stands for them at some point. I needed to go through the 'junk pile' as Sadie called it, and see if I had enough materials to build a frame. If not, I'd have to figure out how to source them.

Sadie and I had an ongoing two and a half decade long battle. I'm a hoarder, and she can't stand clutter. We'd come to an useasy understanding over the years, but I still struggled to throw away something that might have some conceivable use some time down the road.

A couple of weeks ago, it was 'clutter'. Today it was a resource.


It was nice to take a regualar shower again. With the normal plumbing system in use the on demand propane water heater was again in service. A shower is a simple thing, just one of the many things we take for granted, that we don't miss until it's gone. Not only do I like being clean, a shower refreshes the spirit. A simple piece of normality restored, gave us a much needed shot in the arm.

All cleaned up, Sadie and I slung packs and rifles and headed up to Mr Charles' house for the meeting. There were several people there when we arrived, and a couple more came in right after us. We exchanged greetings with those we knew, and introduced ourselves to those we didn't.

Two I was happy to see were Nibbs and Paco. Nibbs was on the volunteer rescue squad and worked security gigs. He'd been in a couple of my classes over the years. A large fellow, topping three hundred pounds, but solid in the way large black men can be. Smart, sharp, and solid, he had a good reputation as a man to have with you in a fight.

Paco too, had a couple of decades in the rescue squad, owned his own auto parts business for a number of years before the economy and big boxes killed it. He'd moved on to managing businesses for other people. He hadn't been through any of my classes, but was a an avid shooter.
Wayne walked in the door a moment later. I'd know him almost as long as I've lived here. He owned a very small gun store in the '90s. Running a small business is difficult enough in and of itself, add on strict gun control laws, which restrict your market make it all but impossible. The ones that stay in business have to diversify into other areas.
Around the same time that the store was floundering, he became a Rastafarian with equal measures of 'back to the earth' and 'conspiracy theory' mixed in. He supported himself and his family by farming, selling his produce. No easy feat.

Stan and Sandy rounded out the people I knew. There was half a dozen others that I had never met before. Mr Charles went to the front of the room and got everyone's attention. When they quieted he started. “Good afternoon everyone, thanks for coming. Zed came up with the idea for this meeting, so I'm going to let him start. Zed?”
I should have been expecting it. Who else would run the meeting? I wasn't looking for a leadership role, I really just wanted to be left alone and don my own thing. But the reality was someone had to do it. I had let Carol go without check, and look where that got us.

“Good afternoon everyone” The group murmered a reponse. “I know about half of you, and hope to get to know the other half better in the coming days. I've talked a little bit with a few of you about the situation we're in, but not in any organized manner. We, Mr. Charles and I, called you all together so we can talk about what we are facing, try to figure out how it is going to effect us and our families, and make plans to deal with it.”
“Isn't that what the homeowners association should be doing?”
This came from one of the people I had introduced myself to earlier. I struggled for a moment and came up with it. “Mr Widmore, right?” He shook his head in the affirmative.
“Well, yes, Mr. Widmore, they should. And they have done so as far as a short term approach to food. And Detective Johns is supposed to be handling security. But I think they are falling short. I don't think they are looking long term.”
“Oh they're looking alright! Looking at my garden!” Morton, if I recalled from our brief handshake before the meeting.
“The Food Committee has been a little heavy handed, haven't they? If you're here at this meeting, I'm guessing you have many of the same concerns as I do.”
“Shouldn't we be talking about this to the Homeowners association? It seems like we're going behind their backs” again from Widmore. I looked a question at Mr. Charles, and he just shrugged.
“We will, but I wanted to meet first and come up with some solid ideas and then present them to the HOA.” That's not quite what I had in mind, but as far as I was going to say at this point.
“How many of you have been aproached by Carol and her crew?” Everyone raised their hands. “How did you like the way you were treated?” the group started murmuring, and talking amongst themselves.
“Carol's been doing a good job keeping the community fed. No one's been going hungry. And we haven't had any break ins or other attacks. You might not like it, but Carol's keeping things together!” Widmore again.
Charles cut in, “they come over here demanding, not asking, for 'donations' of my food.”
Wayne picked it up, “Right? They act like we owe them. I've been struggling all these years. Did they ever support me? Ever buy my produce? My eggs? No. They get them cheaper at the grocery store. They just drive by my stand, looking the other way like I don't exist. Now they want to know me!” he glared at Widmore.
Widmore returned the glare. “not everyone is as fortunate as you are. It's the Christian thing to help those in need.”
“How much did you contribute?” Wayne asked. He didn't recieve a reply.
Wayne continued, “Has anyone offered to help you in your garden Charles?” Charles shook his head. “Me neither. These people want what we have and don't do anything to help. How is that right?”
Widmore kept up his weak case, “not everyone can work, or knows how to work in a garden”
The discusion was starting to get heated, time to reign it in a notch. “All of you have valid points. I wanted us to get together to discuss the issues so we can present them to Carol. Make sense?”
A round of head nodding.
“As far as the food issue, You guys are saying you could use some help. I think that's fair. People don't have regular jobs to go to, they should be able to help out. I've got a question for you. How many people do you think your gardens can feed?”
Wayne looked thoughtfull for a moment, then shugged his shoulders. “Full time? Just a handful. I'm only working about half an acre.”
“Bout the same for me.” Charles added.
“So between the two of you, maybe ten or fifteen people?”
They nodded in reply.
I looked at the group. “Any idea how many of us are in the community?”
“Define the community? Where do we draw the border?”
“You know, that's a real important question. Which I guess covers food and security. What do we consider OUR community? Where do we draw the line? The further out we go, the bigger the problems get.”
“What kind of problems?” Widmore asked
“More people to feed, bigger borders to secure.”
“But more people to help and more land to grow on.”
“Correct. Finding the balance is the key. Bottom line is we are back in medievel times without the centuries of experience that they had to figure things out.”
“Medievel times! That's ridiculous!”
“Is it?”
“Well of course it is! We're not barbarians! We're civilized.”
“They were civilized too, back then, just in a different manner, that made sense for the situation. We have the advantage of being able to learn from them. Successes and mistakes.
But that's where we're at. With the current situation, large central government doesn't have the reach, doesn't have the ability to control things at a distance. When was the last time any of you saw a police car? So contol, civilization, will have to be scaled down to more a more managble size. Politics is about to get very local.”

 

I could see my words shook them up and they all were thinking about what I had said, and the implications for the future. Stan tweaked to it first.

“So we're going to have to set up our own political structure, locally?” he looked at me. I nodded in reply.
“What does that mean exactly?” from Wayne
I was about to answer, but saw Stan had it, and I let him go. “It means that we are on our own. That we are responsible for providing everything for ourselves that the government provided for us. Safety and security foremost.”
“Foremost, yes” I stepped in, “but schooling, infrastucture, trade, treaties, etc. Other groups will form, and we will need to deal with them. Not all of that, right away, but we need to consider them, and plan for it, so it doesn't get ahead of us.”

“So what does all of this have to do with Carol, and Mr. Johns, and the homeowner's association?” Nibbs, who had been quietly taking this all in, finally spoke up. “Are you saying that the HOA needs to become our government?”

“Well it already is, in a very limited form. It is the closest level of government to us. They don't have much power or responsiblity, but they do promulgate rules for the good of the community and take care of infrastructure problems like making sure the roads are passable and the bush is cut back.”
“They steal my hard work just like the government, that's for sure!” A few chuckled at Wayne's outburst.
“They sure have, and I'm sorry to say, which ever way this goes, there will be more of it. Government needs money to run, so taxes are unavoidable. The key is to make sure everyone has a say, so it is representative. So you don't mind paying your share.”
“Everyone should have a say? Even those that don't work?” Surprisingly that came from Widmore. I refrained from bring up the obvious, to a room full of people that were die hard democrats.
“And there are people that don't belong here! Some toursits that were staying down at the condos that got stuck here.”
“More things for our government to consider. Who is a 'citizen'? What are the requirements for citizenship? Do we let other people move here? Who?”

I didn't want this to be all my idea, so I looked at Stan. Stared at him actually, until he got the message.

“It's pretty obvious to me that we need to reorganize the HOA. So we should figure out what that organization should look like, and then call a meeting and propose our ideas. Make sense?”

He looked around and met everyones' eye until they nodded in agreement or said yes.
“Well, let's get started. I guess we need to figure out, first off, what form our govenment should take.”

That started a conversation that lasted until well after dark. It was often contentious, but by the end, we had a pretty good framework to start with. Now it was just a matter of presenting it to the HOA and seeing how Carol and Johns would react to it.

As the meeting broke up, I took Mr. Charles aside, “That Widmore, he's going to go straight to Carol with this, isn't he?”
“Probably. Is that a problem?”
“How do you think she'll react to what we've done today?”
It was obvious he hadn't thought that far ahead. He was so wrapped up in planning for the future, that he forgot that we already had a power structure, poor though it might be, in place, and that they might see this as a threat to their standing.
“Doesn't she have a right to know?” He said, sincerly.
“You have a lot to learn about tactics and strategy” I gave him a smile and a friendly thump on the back and realized that what I just told him applied to me too.

 

Dr Shoemacher accompanied Sadie and me on the walk back home. It was a pleasant evening, quiet, with the moon providing just enough light to walk. We were coming up even with the Quinn's house when Sadie stopped dead and said, “What's that?”
I followed her gaze to the Quinn's porch where I saw a large dark shape that didn't belong there. I got my rifle into my hands, crouched down and looked around. Sadie and Doc copied me.
“Can you tell what that is?” I whispered, looking from one to the other.
“Looks like a body” Sadie nodded her agreement with Doc's pronouncement.
“I was afraid you were going to say that. Stay here, I'll check it out.”
I eased up to the porch slowly, rifle at the ready, trying to not let the lump take all of my attention. Ten feet away, the moonlight was strong enough for me to make out that it was Jacob laying there. Pushing the rifle around back, I finished my approach, coming in from his back, near his head. He was laying on his left side, curled up in a ball. His quiver of arrows was still on his back. He didn't have many left.
I called his name and got no response. Putting fore and middle fingers against the side of his throat, his skin was still warm, and after a couple of seconds I found his pulse.
“He's still alive. It's Jacob” I called to Sadie and Doc who joined me at the porch.
Doc took over, “Help me get him on his back. And give me some light” We cut the strap of the quiver and gently turned him on his back while Doc held Jacob's head.

I dug in my pack and came out with a headlamp that I handed Doc. He put it on and started his examination. “He has numerous contusions, scalp is lacerated, and there is a small amount of dried blood on his lower left pants leg. that's all I can tell right now. Can we get him to my place?”
Doc and I carried Jacob between us, Sadie picked up his bow and arrows. She opened the door to Doc's place and held it for us as we entered. Doc indicated the dinning table when I asked where he wanted Jacob. Laying him down gently elicited a moan, the first noise he'd made since we found him. We started removing his clothes so the doctor could do a thorough examination. As I pulled up his tee shirt I saw the butt of a pistol sticking up out of his waistband.
Starting to remove it, Jacob's eye's flew open and he grabbed my wrist. Hard.
He looked wildly around him.
“Easy Jacob, you're OK. It's Zed. You've been hurt and a doctor is going to check you out.”
“That's MY gun!” was his only reply.
“No problem Jacob. It's your gun. I'm just going to put it right here next to your bow, OK?”
He raised his head enough to see where I put his weaponry and then fell back, exhausted by the effort, and lapsed back into unconciousness. We finished undressing him and Doc continued his examination.

“Scalp wound, various bruising, especially around the ribs, and a through and through puncture in his left calf”
“Gunshot?”
“Probably. Looks like a non expanding bullet, I'd guess from a pistol because there is very little damage. Doesn't even look like it's bled much.”
“So why's he out like a light?”
“Combination of factors if I had to guess. He's dehydrated, some blood loss, various injuries, shock, and he's just plain exhausted. Help me get these wounds cleaned, I think the scalp could use a couple of stitches. I'll leave the gunshot wound open to drain, just bandage it for now. I could run an IV for the dehydration, but I'd rather save it, if we can get him to drink orally.”

We spent the next hour or so tending to Jacobs wounds. My eyes kept drifting over to the pistol setting next to his box, wondering how he ended up with it.

 

Day 8
“After you left that evening, saying you'd be back to talk to me the next morning, I realized I was on my own.” Jacob was sitting up, eating his second helping of dehydrated scrambled eggs while sitting at the dinning table that ten or twelve hours ago had served as an examination table where his wounds were worked on.

The guilt I felt must have shown because Jacob quickly went on. “I don't blame you, really, it's cool. If I waited til morning for you, you probably would have taken me to go look, and thinking about it that evening, I changed my mind and didn't want to ask you to do that. So I just took off on my own.”

“Well I still feel bad, like I let you down. I've been worried about you ever since we found you'd left. Truthfully, I didn't think we'd see you again. I'm glad you made it back. Not just glad, but impressed. And by the shape you were in when you got back, you ran into some trouble.” I was afraid to ask about his parents.

“Would you mind telling us what happened? What you saw? It's important to know what's going on out there, news has been pretty limited.”

Jacob held the plate up to his mouth and used the fork to slide the last few crumbs of egg into his mouth. Setting the plate down, he started.

“I left real early that morning, way before the sun came up. I couldn't sleep anyway so I started gettting ready. We didn't have much food left but I found a few granola bars and I refilled a couple of water bottles from the cistern.
While I was in the kitchen I noticed the knives. I picked out the biggest, sturdiest one. Put it in my belt but then worried that I'd hurt myself, so I made a cover for it with some cardboard and duct tape.
We don't have a gun, so I brought my bow with me. I felt kinda funny with it, even on my back. I thought people would laugh at me when they saw it.
Walking up to the main road was a real work out. I run track, but not uphill. Mom said she was going to Government house, so I headed east on King's Mountain road until I got to Four Corners. There was a road block there, on Paul's Mountain road. Bunch a Frenchie guys hanging out. They didn't want to let me through, so I dropped down Sunberg into town.
My calves were burning from walking down hill, but other than that it was Ok. I didn't see hardly anyone. Seems like everyone is hiding away in their homes, afraid.
At the bottom of Sunberg I started seeing people. A lot of people. All the Santos were hanging out in front of their houses, or on the street. They were all watching me. I felt like I was a piece of meat tossed in a cage with a bunch of lions.
I just kept walking, looking straight ahead. I tried greeting the first couple of people I saw, but they just ignored me, staring at me. Maybe they were checking out the bow. You don't see too many people walking around with bows these days.
I thought about taking it off my back and stringing it, but didn't. I just felt too funny about doing it.
I got down to Main Street Ok, and then had to decide which way to go to Government house. You know, a couple of weeks ago, mom would be deciding which way to go because of traffic, you know? Which way would be fastest, have the least traffic.
Now I'm trying to decide which way is safer. I could stay on Main Street and probalby see more people, or go out to Wharfside and the waterfront. Fewer people, but wide open.
I chose Wharside and walked the block from Main Street. Coming out to where I could see the harbor was weird. Most of the boats were gone. You know there's always a bunch of sailboats, and motor yachts anchored. Now there were only a couple of broke down sailboats. A couple didn't even have masts. There was one sport fishing boat that looked OK, and I wondered why it was still here.
There wasn't any traffic, and I only saw a couple of people on the waterfront, fishing with hand lines.
I turned left and walked towards Government House.
Those six or eight blocks were spooky man. It really weirded me out. Ussually Wharfside is full of cars in all four lanes, there's tourists all around, taxi drivers yelling, now, nothing.
The only other people I saw were on the roofs of the jewelry stores. Those stores were OK. Other stores had doors and windows broken in and were just trashed. I didn't get too close to them, but could see the damage from where I was.

One man fishing had his kids with him. Two little girls and a young boy. I went over to talk to him. The children made me feel like it was safe. He said that the government food centers were shut down. They said they were out of food, but he thought maybe that wasn't exactly true.
The boaters left days ago, realizing things were going to get bad and would only get worse. The ones he talked to said they were going to go south. I pointed to the sport fisher and he said they were out of fuel. A Puerto Rican family owned it, they'd come over for the weekend and got stuck. They were trying to figure out how to get food and fuel. Nobody wanted their money.
I asked about the police and he said there were no police. He hadn't seen any for days. Not patroling anyway. He seemed to think some were sticking with the government, probably because they still had a stash of food and they were protecting it.
He said he heard the National Guard were sticking close to their armory. They've sealed off a small part of the east end and aren't letting anyone in. You can leave, but you can't get back in.
I told him I was surprised he was out here fishing, wasn't he worried someone would take his fish or hurt him or his kids? He got this grim look and lifted the front of his shirt. He had a gun stuck in the front of his pants. He told me someone tried to, once.
That made me nervous, so I told him good bye and left. I kept walking along the waterfront for a while. Until I saw the bodies.
I don't know if they all died at the same time. There were four of them floating in the corner by where the dingys tie up. Some were more bloated than the others, so it was probably the current pushed them there.
I was about even with Government Hill so I left the waterfront and headed the two blocks inland. At the base of the hill the road was blocked off by two police cars and there were six cops standing behind them.
They pointed their guns at when I got closer and told me to stop. I told them I was looking for my parents and that they were coming to Government House to see what was going on.
On of them knew my mother. He said she showed up but wasn't allowed in to see anyone. She left after a while.
They remembered my dad coming there but they wouldn't let him in the road block, so he drove away. The road up Government Hill is one way, so I walked around to where it came out on the other side. There was another police road block on that end. They had let my mom out, and they saw my dad too. He asked what direction she took when she left and they told him left. They said he went that way too.
So I walked that way. I'd barely gotten away from the road block when I started seeing people sitting and standing around on the street. They all stared at me. I guess they didn't see thin white teenagers with bow and arrows walking down the street very often.
I tried to be friendly, saying good morning, but no one would talk to me. They turned away when I looked at them. Then I got to Hospital Ground.
Smoke was still coming up from the ruins of a couple of wooden shacks. There probably would have been more ruins, except most houses are masonry these days. There was broken glass everywhere, and empty bullet casings were scattered everywhere.
At first, I didn't see anyone, but it felt like I was being watched. You know that hair standing up on the back of your neck feeling? I thought about taking my bow off my back and nocking an arrow, but I was worried I might look like I was asking for trouble.
As I walked along, looking at the houses, I started seeing signs of people. Looking out of windows, they were staying back in the rooms, which is why I didn't see them at first. It was easier once I knew what to look for.
I'd walked about two blocks into Hospital Ground when I saw my dad's car. I was immediately happy, but as I got closer it was obvious something was wrong. The glass was all broken, the tires and some other parts were gone. I reached the car and looked inside but it was empty. I looked around and saw a stain on the sidewalk. I guess it was blood. It left a trail into a space between two buildings.
I didn't want to look. I really didn't want to go.
But I did anyway.
Just between the buildings was my dad. Well, his body. He was dead. I guess for a while. He was laying face down, bloody everywhere. I couldn't move. I just sort of sat down.
I was sitting there for I don't know how long when I heard a noise. It was a window opening in the house on the right. I looked up and this old guy asked me what I was doing there. He wasn't mean or anything, more like worried, or scared. I told him that was my father lying there. He said he hadn't seen or heard anything. He didn't know anything about my mom, either.
Then he asked what I was going to do with the body. That I couldn't just leave it there.
What was I going to do? I couldn't do anything with a body. But he was right, I couldn't just leave my dad there. Then I looked at the car. It reminded me of something I'd read once about Viking funerals. I started laughing. I couldn't stop. The laughing turned to crying. I finally didn't have anything left.
That's when I got up and went to my dad. I turned him face up. I guess they hit him mostly in the back because his face was mostly OK. Grey, but not all gross. I grabbed his wrists and started pulling him to the car. I opened the back doors and pulled him in as far I could from one side, then ran around to the other side and pulled him the rest of the way in.
I had no idea how to light the car on fire. I looked in the glove box, but there wasnt anything in there. I got out and looked around. Just a little way down the sidewalk I found a lighter. One of the disposable ones. I tried it and got a little flame, but it went out and I couldn't get it to light again. But it sparked OK.
The sparking made me think of spark plugs. And gasoline. Maybe if I had some gas I could get it to light with the spark. But how was I going to get gas?
I opened the gas filler and smelled gas, but I didn't know how to get it out.
I sat down again and got a bottle of water out. I took off the top to get a drink and fumbled it. The cap went on edge and rolled under the car.
Great.
I crawled under to get it and noticed the gas tank. Could poke a hole in it? Would it blow up if I did? I remembered my science teacher showing us that gas wasn't that flamable. He took us outside and threw lit matches in a cup and they just went out.
So I'd have to poke the hole where there was some gas, at the bottom.
I took out the kitchen knife and tried to poke it in but it wouldn't go. I found a fist sized rock and used that as a hammer. It was awkward, but I finally got the knife in the tank without blowing up.
I pulled the knife back out and gas started pouring out. I didn't think leaning over it trying to light it with a spark was a good idea so I stopped and thought for a moment.
There had been a hankerchief in the glove box so I got that and wrapped it around a stick I picked up. I soaked it in some gas and stepped away from the car and tried to light it.
I sparked and sparked and sparked and it wouldn't catch. Then I tried on a frayed area with some threads loose. They turned brown and smoked and then lit up the rest of the cloth. I tossed it in the pool of gas which went up with a kinda 'whoomp!” sound. I was maybe a little too close. I singed the hair on my arms.
“Bye dad, I love you” I said to the burning car, my throat was so tight I couldn't breath and I know now why they say the heart is where love is, because mine hurt real bad.

I picked up my things and started walking again. I didn't want to, but I had to.

I found my mom. I wish I hadn't.

 

I walked up to the next intersection and saw her car down the side street. I wonder if my dad knew that he was so close. Probably not.

I went up to mom's car. I had a moment of hope as I got closer, because I could see her sitting behind the wheel. But she wasn't moving. When I got to the window I could see why. She'd been shot in the head. She was also naked. Her hair was dirty and she had bruises all over her. I looked away, but it was too late. That's not the way you want to remember your mother.

A guy called to me from the nearest house. He asked me what I was doing there but he didn't really want to know. I didn't answer him. He started taunting me about my mom, saying really nasty things. Things he had done to her. He said he would do them to me too.

He left the window to come outside. I wasn't scared, not really. I was angry and sad, and just kinda empty. I got my bow off my back and nocked an arrow and waited. When I saw the door open I drew back. He opened the door all the way. He had a pistol in his hand, down at his side.

He seemed real surprised when he saw me with my bow. He was even more surprised when he looked down at his chest. Well he tried to look down. His chin hit the arrow sticking out of the bottom of his throat.

It was funny watching it, sorta slow motion, as his face went from confidence, to surprise, understanding, and anger. The anger one got me moving. As he raised the pistol I was running, trying to get behind the car. I probably should have been there in the first place. I'll know better next time.

I almost made it but I felt a slap at my leg just before I heard his gun go off. He fired a couple of more shots at the car, while I tried to get another arrow on the string.
Then he stopped shooting and I heard him fall. I risked a peek above the door and saw him face first at the bottom of the porch strairs.
I wanted that gun! I got lucky that time, but I didn't like the idea of bow and arrow against gun.

I ran over to him. Well I tried to run over to him. After the first step my leg hurt real bad when I moved it. There wasn't much blood. Hardly any, but man did it hurt to move it. I kinda hobbled to the body. My arrow snapped off when he fell. I probably didn't want to try to pull it out of him anyway.

I kinda fell, collapsed to my knees and started puking. I didn't have much to throwup, but it kept coming anyway. I finally sat back and wiped my mouth and eyes. I took a sip of water and spit it out to get the acid taste out of my mouth. I was afraid to drink any because I thought it would come back up.

I started worrying that I had been there too long, so I picked up the gun and was about to leave when I thought I should check him. If this was yesterday, no way could I have done this. But after dragging my dad's body I guess I was getting used to it. I found an extra clip in his pocket. He had some weed, a pipe and a lighter. I took the lighter and clip. He had lots of gold jewelry but I didn't feel right taking it.
Then I thought about my mother. And what he'd done. He made the mistake of moaning and moving, trying to turn over. This whole time I thought he was dead. I scabbled a couple of feet away, holding the pistol in front of me, shooting at him as I was scooting away from him on my ass. I hit him inthe face. His legs drummed on the ground a few times and I puked again.

I started off scared but now I was pissed. Pissed at what he'd done to my mother, pissed that he taunted me, pissed that I killed him, pissed that I was scared. It was like something switched in my head. I felt the anger build and build. I got up and grabbed a nearby stick and started beating him with it. He was already dead, but I didn't care. I wasn't beating him, I was beating my fear with that stick.

The stick broke about the same time as my fear. The anger was gone too. I was just cold. I pulled all the gold jewelry off of him, and stuffed it in my pockets. I thought about going into the house he came out of, but I didn't know who else might be in there. I looked around and still didn't see anybody, but how long would that last?

There was a column of thick black smoke from the otherside of the block where my dad's car was still burning. I guess that shouldn't be a surprise, I started it only a few minutes ago. Seems much longer.

Using the lighter I took off the dead guy it was much easier to get mom's car lit up.
I put the pistol in my belt, pack on my back, and an arrow on my string and strarted walking home.

The shaking started about the time I was clearing Hospital ground. It started in my hands and fingers, then up my arms. My legs started vibrating and it was getting harder and harder to keep walking. I saw a gut up ahead where I could get off the road. By the time I got there, even my head was shaking.

I flopped down and just spazed out. I was hyperventalating and just couldn't stop shaking. It took me a minute or two to get a drink of water, and I got more on me than in me. That helped. I saw the granola bars when I went into the bag for the water. I hadn't had much to eat lately, and I had thrown that all up. I took small bites and chewed them a lot before swallowing. When that stayed down, I ate somemore. By the time I was done with the bar, I was pretty much done with the shaking.


“Damn, dude, that's rough” the Doc sympathized. Human contact can say what words can never hope to convey. I went over and gave Jacob a hug. At first he was just limp and didn't respond, afterall he didn't know me very well. After a few seconds he did respond, bringing his arms up, putting his head against my shoulder and sobbing a few times.

I patted him on the back and released him before comfort turned into creepy. “I don't know what to do. Everything is messed up. I've lost everything. What's next? What am I going to do? Where am I going to go?”

“Jacob, I can't imagine what you're feeling. The loss you're going through. I'm amazed at what you did. You showed courage, determination, and loyalty. You did horible things because they needed doing. You didn't hesitate. You didn't leave it for someone else. Few people can say the same. You stepped up son.”

I couldn't tell if he was buying it. He just sat, slumped, staring at the floor. I thought he was too young to have the thousand yard stare. Still, there it was. But I was completely sincere. What he did was nothing less than amazing.

“Listen. I'm serious here. I'm totally impressed with how you've handled yourself. I know things suck and you are hurting. You'll always hurt. But every day it will hurt less. You just got to keep going. You've already shown me that you can.”
“Why? What's the point?”
“Because, that's what we do. It's what we've always done. Get up, brush yourself off, accept help from your clan, and keep going.”
“I don't have a 'clan' anymore!” he shouted at me. Good. Anger is better than sulking, wallowing in sorrow and self pity. It was a good sign that he was coming up for air.
“I would be proud to have you in my clan, Jacob, such as it is. I'm building it now, and I need, we need good people. We need to look out for each other, support each other or we'll never get through this”
“Through this? Will we ever go back to the way it was?”
“No. No it won't. Even if everything goes back to normal, things will have changed. We'll all be different than we were. We'll be scarred, but we'll be stronger.”

Jacob didn't say anything, but he wasn't staring at the floor anymore. He was sitting upright and he was looking out the window. Maybe picturing the future. Before that could lead to the wrong places, I broke back in.

“I'm going to need your help. Can I count on you?” He turned to look at me. His eyes searched mine, I'm not sure what he was looking for, but after a moment he gave a small nod.

“Good. You're going to need our help too. We need to figure out your living arrangements and how to feed you. What else can we do to help you?”
He turned to look at the pistol next to his other things. “Can you teach me how to use that?”
“Absolutely. When do you want to start?”
“Now.”