Deputy Keith Millwood gave a short bark of laughter at the last comment.
“Looks like Private Mendoza has you pegged, Mike. You might as well go park up there and we’ll get this mess cleared up,” Millwood announced with a gesture to the parking lot. “Mrs. Hardin, why don’t you go on inside? I wanted to talk to your husband anyway, so I’m happy we bumped into each other. And don’t worry about your pistol. I understand.”
With both Staff Sergeant Hall and Deputy Sergeant Millwood looking on, my sister-in-law squared her shoulders, gave Corporal Cansler a withering glare, and marched into the makeshift front door of the hospital. Mike and I shared a look, and I gave him a little nod of acknowledgement as he started the truck and went to park.
Turning slightly, I caught sight of one bullet hole, and then another, puncturing the sidewall of Mike’s truck bed. Keith Millwood caught my glance and followed my gaze.
“Seems like you boys are still making friends and spreading good cheer,” he commented with another little smirk of a grin.
“We got jumped south of Woodville the other day,” I explained, nodding at the truck. No way I was going to admit we’d been driving something else at the time.
“Yeah, I heard about that. Was what I wanted to talk to you and Mike about. And I heard you guys were on the scene of that shooting at Tractor Supply too. Like I said, even back in school, you two were always right in the middle of whatever what happening.”
I paused, having to think back.
“Shit, Keith, that was months ago. I’ve been in so many fights since then I almost forgot what you were talking about.”
“Seriously?”
I stopped to think, then realized I needed to edit a little better. Then ticking off on my fingers, I counted out the actions I would admit to, or were on record.
“Attempted kidnapping from the clinic next to my office, then the shootout at Wilson’s Feed Store. Then this thing south of Fred. So yeah, we get around.”
“Are you looking to get in the family business?” The deputy poked me where he knew it would do the most good.
“Low blow, Keith. You know that was from a side branch of the family,” I replied with a bit of a growl, but it was clearly fake. In school, the idea that one of his classmates might be related to a famous, or infamous, Texas gunfighter had tickled Keith Millwood’s fancy, but I’ve shown that John Wesley had been a distant relation at best.
While we chatted, the Staff Sergeant who’d intervened had finished talking to his men and was now standing at Keith’s shoulder as I finished my retort.
“What’s this about family?”
“First, thank you for your intervention, sir. I’m Bryan Hardin, and the big ox coming across the parking lot is my little brother Mike,” I said by way of introduction, sticking out my hand.
“You don’t ‘sir’ an enlisted man, and I’m Ben Hall,” the older soldier said as he shook. “Now, what’s this about the family business?”
“Well, I’m a lawyer by trade, and I can assure you my family has given me no end of hell about that, and Mike is a school teacher. No, Keith here is just giving me shit about a distant relative.”
“So mean he shot a man just for snoring? That the one?”
“That’s the story, anyway.”
“Well, come on in and have some coffee,” Staff Sergeant Hall offered. “I’m sure you want to know what happened here, and it sounds like Keith here wants to pick your brain about something else as well.”
By the time Mike joined us, I could see his earlier anger had receded, and he was looking at the three of us as we stood on the sidewalk and chatted like old friends.
“No boom?” Mike asked, and Keith barked that hard laugh of his.
“No boom, Boomer,” Keith replied, and then Staff Sergeant Hall had a curious look on his face as I laughed with my brother and old school friend, but I promised to explain once we had our coffee.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“They hit just after midnight,” Hall began, then paused to sip at his coffee as we sat in the cramped security room break area.
I was surprised when the National Guard non-commissioned officer escorted us back here instead of to the hospital cafeteria, but apparently Keith’s endorsement of us as good guys carried some weight. In addition to Staff Sergeant Hall and Deputy Millwood, we were joined at the table by a young soldier dressed in fatigue pants and a brown t-shirt, his arm in a sling. Hall introduced the new man as Corporal Gaudette.
He was African-American, fit as hell, and had his hair cut so short it looked like a Mohawk. I noted a scar at the corner of his left eye that caused the lid to droop just a touch. I’d bet some asshole tried to stick him with a nickname like Sleepy for that and then got his ass kicked for his trouble.
“Had a smaller contingent go for the two guards we had on roving patrol while a larger force tried to take the two men on duty at the front desk. They got a bullet in one of our patrollers, got them pinned down, but the tangos didn’t have their timing quite right.” Hall paused again for another sip. “Of course, we heard the shooting and our team on the desk was already set up. The attackers didn’t count on running straight into a SAW.”
Hall paused again, casting a look in my direction, and I nodded before speaking.
“Squad Automatic Weapon,” I said. “Probably an M-249. I wasn’t in the service, but Mike did eight years in the Army. Got out as a buck sergeant before he went to school to be a daycare worker.”
“Daycare worker?” Corporal Gaudette asked, speaking for the first time.
“I teach, or taught, high school science,” Mike explained in an aggrieved tone. “Physics and chemistry. Bryan got tired of listening to me bitch about some of my less motivated students and claimed I was just an overqualified daycare worker. Some days I agreed with him.”
“Sorry, gentlemen, didn’t mean to get us sidetracked,” I apologized. “I take it, from your description that this wasn’t an isolated incident, Staff Sergeant Hall?”
“You’d be correct, Mr. Hardin. We’ve had gangs trying to take over hospitals in several locations. As you might guess, their targets are the pharmacies.”
“They’re hitting the trucking industry pretty hard too, so I’m guessing the hospital is already hurting for resupply,” Mike volunteered. Hall gave him a look and Mike shook his head.
“Marta didn’t say anything. We don’t talk much about our work. I guessed it because of the gangs already raiding delivery trucks, and the fortified truck stop we saw while driving the other day. I’m thinking the next step is traveling in convoys with military escorts.”
I noticed Mike didn’t say where he saw the truck stop, and the staff sergeant didn’t ask.
“That’s been discussed,” Hall conceded, referring to the convoy theory.
“I’d imagine you’re pretty stretched with all the violence on the border, but I was expecting to see regular Army units step up and take over the convoy role at least, now that Texas has been added to the Emergency declaration.”
I felt intent eyes on me from all around the table and I shrugged.
“Guys, it’s on the radio. Anyway, Keith, you said you wanted to pick our brains about what happened south of Fred. How’d you even hear about that?”
Keith cleared his throat, suddenly a little self-conscious of the staff sergeant’s attention shifting to him.
“Bill, I went to school with these boys about a hundred years ago,” Keith explained. “I was in Mike’s class, but the school wasn’t that big, so everybody knew everybody. Anyway, I was talking to one of the deputies from over in Woodville yesterday, and he told me about what happened. I heard them mention it was reported in by a traveler from New Albany named Hardin, and I knew had to be these two who did it.”
“And?” Staff Sergeant Hall prompted, getting a little testy at the delay.
“Sorry. Seems Mike and Bryan happened upon a house in the process of being raided. They killed all the raiders, gathered up the injured in the hous
e, and took them into Woodville for treatment. Like it was no big deal. Killed near on twenty of the bastards, and neither one took a scratch.”
That got a look of surprise from both the staff sergeant and the quiet corporal. I waved at Mike, letting him tell the story. He gave the report like he was back in the Army, quick and to the point. He also explained that it had only been fifteen raiders, in two groups, and mentioned the help we’d received from the homeowner.
That’s where Keith picked up the story.
“The bag of wallets Bryan gathered up was helpful, but the real paydirt came from examining the insurance papers the investigator found in the glovebox of one of those trucks,” Keith explained. “Gave a local address, and when the Tyler County deputies went out to check, they found six more raiders set up there and the family all dead.”
I nodded sadly. Mike and I figured as much. They needed a base in the area, after all.
“I hope they got all of them,” Mike said seriously.
“I heard they did. Might have been more still out foraging, but the deputies weren’t in a position to stake out the place too long from what I gathered.” Keith paused. “I hate to say it, but I wish that hurricane had done a better job of taking out the trash.”
“Harsh,” Corporal Gaudette murmured, but he didn’t have anything to counter Keith’s statement.
“Anyway,” Keith said, changing the topic. “I wanted to advise you that in forty-eight hours, the travel ban will be back in effect. Since you guys live in Albany County, Mike, your wife will need to use that placard as a pass to get to and from work. Also, I’m advising you that given the increasing violence we’re seeing, you might want to consider escorting your wife when she comes in, or having someone else with her, at least.”
Mike nodded, then explained how Marta was usually carpooling with another nurse, a neighbor. Mike didn’t say who, and Keith didn’t ask. It wasn’t necessary, and if Keith needed to know, he could ask.
“I think we’ll need to up that,” I said, jumping back into the conversation. “These raiders are filtering out from Houston, moving closer to our area, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we started seeing some out of San Antonio as well. If we can, Mike, I’d suggest one of us rotate through as escort for the ladies.”
“You might see if your sheriff would be willing to help as well,” Keith added. “Since most of the medical needs for New Albany are being met by this hospital until you get that clinic back up and running, Sheriff Landshire might be amenable to organizing a bus service. I know there are three other hospital staff members who are also commuting every day.”
Mike started to say something, but I cut him off with a look.
“We can talk about it. Now, if that’s all, we should be going.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Keith replied, a little too fast. He seemed to have been the only one who caught my glance to silence Mike. “I just wanted to give you an update on what happened the other day.”
As we had already finished our coffee, Mike and I made our farewells and got up to leave. Deputy Keith Millwood rose when we did, saying something about walking us out. All in all, after a very rocky start, I thought we’d smoothed things over here and had picked up more information than even the Guard wanted to share with us.
Mike stuck his head into Marta’s department on the way out, got a peck on the lips from his wife and a quick update before we took the stairs back down to the ground floor and made our exit. I’m sure Mike picked up the crowded halls and the heavy security presence, both Jasper County deputies and armed and uniformed National Guard personnel at every hallway intersection, and I was happy to have Keith with us.
Once outside, I drew in a deep lungful of fresh air, free of the antiseptic scent of hospitals, and noticed the rain had resumed once again.
As we drew near the truck, I gestured for Keith to stop and Mike hung back expectantly, curious I’m sure to see what I had to say. Keith seemed to expect it, though.
“Thanks for helping defuse that situation earlier, Keith,” I said by way of starting the conversation. “Mike and I are both pretty much on edge these days, and I shouldn’t have pushed things with the guards. We should’ve just gotten Marta back in the truck and driven away.”
“What? And miss work? What would her doctors have to say about that?”
“Keith, I know we weren’t close or anything like that in school, but I always thought of you as a straight arrow and a good guy. Are you still that same person?”
Keith looked at me. Looked hard, before his indignant replying.
“Just what are you getting at, Bryan? Are you asking me if I’m dirty? This is Jasper, man, not Houston or Chicago.”
“Landshire is dirty, Keith. That trip to Kountze the other day was to check in with an old friend. He’s a retired Texas Ranger, but don’t let the retired part fool you. He’s still tied in with the old boy network and he knows stuff. Landshire has been under scrutiny for a while, and the Rangers were about to take a run at him when this earthquake stuff all started.”
I heard Keith suck in a breath. In Texas, if you were in law enforcement and bent, then the Rangers were who came knocking on your door.
“Now with the hurricane,” I continued, “I don’t know when they’ll get around to it. I just wanted to give you a heads up, and a warning. Don’t turn your back on any of his men. There’s been some recent hires that look more like hoods than lawmen, and I have no doubt he’s planning something.”
“What’s he done that’s got you so nervous, Bryan?”
Looking to Mike, I wondered how much I should say.
“I don’t know the details, my friend, but he’s rumored to be tied up with drugs. He’s been careful to work through certain underlings, but I’m pretty sure he’s at the very least been turning a blind eye to shipments coming through the county. That was before, but now, I’m worried he’s gotten more ambitious. At least one of the county commissioners might suspect what’s been going on, and he has a history of butting heads with the sheriff. That shooting at the Urgent Care Clinic I mentioned, the intended kidnap victim turned out to be that county commissioner’s favorite niece.”
Keith looked to Mike for confirmation, and my brother just tipped his head ever so slightly.
“Shit, Bryan, you do manage to find a way to keep things interesting. I’ll be sure and watch my six, but should I pass your warnings on to anybody else?”
“Your boss probably already has an inkling,” I allowed, as Jasper County Sheriff Julian Stringer had been in office for nearly thirty years, and he knew where a lot of the bodies were buried when it came to East Texas politics. “Just watch yourself. I think Lieutenant Bastrop, the new investigator over there, is trustworthy, but I wouldn’t bet my life on it. Just try to avoid any interagency operations is my best advice.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. You two try to keep your heads down and don’t let Mike build any more exploding volcanoes.”
We shook hands. Keith’s grip was solid and slow to release as if he expected to never see us again. After the last week, that was a definite possibility, I somberly realized.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The next week passed in a blur, culminating in the finalization of the sale of Mike and Marta’s dream home and resulting in a wire transfer into my business account as we had arranged. In the meantime, the whole farm shifted into gear, moving Nikki and Pat with their kids, along with Charles and Mary, into the old but refurbished Bonner place. The house had just enough bedrooms to accommodate everyone, since Rachel and Hunter were getting to an age where they needed their own space. Mike worked closely with Charles to get the wind turbine set up for some backup power, but they were hoping the Co-Op electrical service stayed up, since we didn’t have enough turbines or batteries to run the whole house. More batteries were on order, but the backlog threatened to stretch for weeks.
At the same time, we started logging out some of the timber over in the already storm-damaged grove of trees on the o
ld Bonner property in preparation for erecting the second greenhouse. With the gardens all but drowned from the rains and our numbers increased, we needed production scaled up to match the consumption. In truth, we knew from our previous efforts that it would be some time before the second greenhouse began producing in any volume, but Beatrice reasoned the sooner we started, the sooner we would benefit. And yes, Mike did find cement for the floor and foundation that would cure in the rain.
In addition to getting the full slate of horses purchased, Mike made arrangements to have an addition built onto the existing horse stalls, giving us proper stables and a dedicated tack room. While Mike was handling the construction, all hampered by the rain and wet conditions, I turned to the Yellow Pages and Netfeed to locate enough hay in bales and in squares to see us past winter and through an unproductive spring planting. I knew the nutrients in the hay became depleted over time and in response, I leaned heavily on nutritional supplements for not just the horses but for all of our livestock to help bridge the expected gap.
For some of the supplies we needed, the fuel and delivery surcharge, an added fee for the merchant to help defray those costs, sometimes exceeded the per item expense. This was a recent addition, amended into the Emergency rules, and even though the extra charges hit us in the pocketbook, I quietly applauded whoever it was in the Department of Commerce who pushed the change through and got the president to endorse it. This was something the Federal government grudgingly approved to help combat black market dealings, and the change helped stabilize costs. Only a week into existence and still a bit spotty in its application, this meant merchants might have a better chance of staying in business.
On top of everything else, we added to our rotating schedule to provide security for Marta and Dorothy as they made their commute to and from work. Of course, the ladies protested, but after our close call on the highway leaving Ft. Worth, Marta was more subdued than Dorothy. Together, the three of us decided not to share the details of that part of our trip, though Pat did sit down with us for a debrief over what happened. After listening carefully and taking a few notes, Pat told us we were lucky that any of us survived, and then he started discussing alternative solutions. That was an eye-opener, and Pat promised to spend more time, somehow, on working up our planning skills.
Tertiary Effects Series | Book 2 | Storm Warning Page 24
