by Steven Smith
He got up, picked up his drink and walked to the window where he looked out onto the commons. "I've been tossing around an idea in my head for a while. I want to put enforcement in the hands of a rotating panel of citizens. The panel will rotate every month so that everyone will have responsibility but will know that they will soon be off the panel. That way, nobody sees themselves or others as separate from anyone."
"Sounds interesting," said Christian. "But what if some don't want to or can't do it? You said yourself that not everyone is cut out for it."
"That's one of the reasons I want to do this. Remember how people who couldn't do our jobs were always trying to tell us how to do them?"
Christian chuckled. "Oh yeah."
"They felt they could do that because they knew they would never have to."
Christian nodded. "Like you always said, those who don't know how, trying to tell those who do know how, how to do it."
"Exactly. This way, everyone is going to have the opportunity and responsibility to step up and show what they've got. Those who won't, can't or who abuse their authority will be exposed and their position in the community diminished accordingly, while the position of those who do step up and do it properly will be enhanced. Everybody gets to show who they are right in front of everyone else."
Christian smiled. "Brilliant. So, what do you want me to do?"
Jim turned around, took a drink and smiled. "You're going to oversee everything. I'm retiring."
12
Jim cut a thick slice from the bacon block and laid it in the large cast iron frying pan. The sizzle brought a smile to his face and memories of life before the change to his mind.
He had always liked starting the day with a traditional breakfast of bacon, eggs and biscuits, something he and Kelly had enjoyed together before the collapse, and he enjoyed it even more now. The one thing he had missed during the first months had been real, cured bacon, but now that they had finished the smokehouse and perfected the curing process, he indulged himself even more than before.
He sliced the rest of the block, putting the first strips into the pan while laying the rest to the side, then lifted the lid on the Dutch oven to check the biscuits. Judging that they needed a couple of more minutes, he replaced the lid and concentrated on the bacon. The aroma started to rise from the pan, and he thought about what he had told Christian the night before.
Things were changing. The first year had thinned the population of those who were not prepared or resilient enough to survive and now new dynamics and social alignments were developing. The suggestion made by Mark Freelove and the other sheriffs was a good one, and he had no doubt that the same thing was happening across the country. The main question in his mind was to what extent did he want to be part of a cooperative group or confederation? Just as each rule or law limited personal liberty, so too did each agreement between groups limit the autonomy of each member group, either by prohibition or requirement. It was through just such agreements that the individual states had given up much of their sovereignty to the federal government and the United States had relinquished much of its own sovereignty to the United Nations and other international organizations.
He thought about both Washington's and Jefferson's warnings against foreign entanglements. Although the other groups were neighbors with seemingly similar backgrounds and beliefs, he knew how quickly things could change when people were involved, and he had no intention of putting Stonemont under the influence of any other group or agreement.
He checked the biscuits again and, judging them to be done, laid the lid aside, removed the biscuits to a cooling rack and threw a tea towel over them to retain the heat and moisture.
Turning again to the bacon, he turned each rasher once more to get the grease even, then forked them onto a wire rack and laid more strips in the pan.
"I guess I'm late, huh?"
Jim turned to see Christian stepping up onto the veranda. "Bosses are never late, so you must be right on time. Grab a cup of coffee."
Christian walked to the rocket stove on which the large enamel coffee pot was staying hot and filled a mug, then looked at his uncle suspiciously. "Okay, are you ready to explain this boss stuff? I know you're not retiring."
Jim turned the bacon strips and turned around, a sly smile on his face. "You think I'm kidding, huh?"
Christian looked at him warily. "I think you're telling me part of the story. What's the rest of it?"
Jim lifted the coffee pot and topped off his cup, then set the pot back on the stove. "Things are going to start getting more complicated and we have to be ready."
He took a sip from his cup. "Up until now, I've been both the visible leader and the hammer. That needs to change. Things are going to get more complex as we start dealing with other groups and we're going to need a more layered leadership."
"Layered?"
Jim nodded. "We need the appearance of more complexity in our leadership in order to deal with the developing complexity of working with or aligning with other groups."
Christian took a sip of his coffee. "You'd better keep going. I'm not sure I'm getting it yet."
Jim turned the bacon strips. "Did you ever buy a new car?"
Christian shook his head. "My dad always told me that buying a new car was stupid. You said so, too."
Jim chuckled. "That's the truth. How about a used car?"
Christian nodded. "Sure."
"From a dealer?"
Christian nodded again. "Once."
"Do you remember how the salesman became your friend while you looked at it, took it for a test drive, then went back to his little cubicle with him?"
Christian chuckled. "Yep."
"You started talking price and you made him an offer, at which he kind of shook his head, made a funny face and said that he didn't think they'd go for it."
He turned the bacon. "You kept talking, and if you didn't raise your offer, which I hope you didn't, he finally shrugged sadly and said he'd go talk to his sales manager and see what he could do."
Christian laughed. "Sounds like you were there."
Jim shrugged. "I've bought cars. Anyway, he left you sitting in his little office with nothing to look at but the keys to the car and the paperwork he'd already started while he went and talked to his buddy the sales manager about golf, their wives, the game last night and how much they thought they could get out of you.
“When they figured you had stewed enough, he came back in shaking his head and saying that he'd done everything he could, but they wouldn't go for it. He told you that he really wanted you to have the car, so even though they wouldn't come down on their price he had done some fancy talking on your behalf and gotten them to throw in some miracle undercoating and some other things for no charge, bringing the cost of the car itself down to right about what you offered."
Christian laughed again. "Did I tell you that story?"
Jim chuckled and shook his head. "Didn't have to. I've seen it." He turned the bacon. "They do that to keep you guessing, to put layers between you and the final decision-maker, so you're not dealing directly with who you're really dealing with. And all the while, your friend the salesman is the sales manager's spy on you. If you make the deal, you think the salesman worked on your behalf, you thank him, and you give his cards to your friends telling them what a great guy he is. If you don't make the deal, you're ticked at the sales manager, not your new friend the salesman who did everything he could for you and will mail you some cards from the next dealership he works at telling you that he can get you a great deal on your next car."
Christian shook his head. "Did you used to sell cars?"
Jim laughed and lifted the strips of bacon out of the pan, adding them to the wire rack and putting five more strips in the pan. "I need you to be the operational face of Stonemont. The layer between me and most of the people we'll deal with from here on out. You did a good job when I was down for a while, and you'll do a good job at this. You'll be my representative wit
h all of the authority that comes with that."
He looked at his nephew. "You'll be the hand they see. I'll be the one they don't."
13
Alex stood in a second-floor window looking across Ward Parkway at the enormous church on the opposite side of the divided boulevard. It's light-colored stone, red tile roof and large stained-glass windows seeming to sparkle in the sun, setting it apart from the trees over which it towered and the houses surrounding it.
They were in the fifth house they had entered so far. They had found bodies in three of the houses but the other one had simply been empty - abandoned but showing no sign of looting or vandalism. Food was still in the cupboards, indicating that the family had left before running out of food and had not returned, and there were no signs of a rushed or frantic departure. It had seemed the same in this one.
Like the houses, the furnishings were expensive and so was the food. The other abandoned house had an undisturbed wine cellar and three had safes they were unable to open. Their next point of interest was the church, which Aaron had suggested as a possible defensible position.
Aaron had returned with his squad at sunrise and had given his report before eating a scout ration bar and hitting the sack in the Country Club clubhouse.
They had diverted their original course when they smelled smoke and headed east from Ward Parkway on 55th Street in order to stay on high ground, finally arriving at a large park where they held up, watching and listening until it was time to head back. They had heard sounds during the night, though none they were able to identify, but they did determine that the smell of smoke grew stronger as they moved farther east.
Now, Alex was watching the area around the church in preparation for their approach.
"All clear, boss," said a scout coming into the room behind him. "There's a cool old motorcycle in the garage and some guns in a wooden cabinet in the den. Some food, too."
Alex turned around to look at the scout. "What kind of guns?"
"Shotguns and rifles that we can see. There are a couple of drawers that are locked."
"What kind of motorcycle?"
The scout shrugged. "It looks like a Harley, but it says Indian."
A smile spread slowly across Alex's face. "No kidding?"
The scout shook his head. "No. Do you know about them?"
Alex nodded, still smiling. "Oh yeah."
"Well, we're clear here. You want us to bring the guns?"
Alex thought for a minute. Leaving guns behind went against their SOP, but they didn't need them and lugging around the extra weight would just make their current task more difficult. He shook his head. "We'll pick them up on the way back. And the Indian."
"Okay. We're ready when you are."
Alex nodded and turned back to the window, hearing the scout leave the room and go down the stairs. He scanned the street again, seeing no movement, then looked back at the church and saw a thin wisp of black smoke in the distance. Looking at the church one last time, he turned and left the room.
The first two scouts sprinted across the first roadway, taking cover in a small stand of trees in the median and scanning the terrain surrounding the church. Seconds later, a second pair joined them, then a third pair. After several minutes of surveying and scoping the windows and surroundings of the church and nearby houses, the first pair sprinted across the second roadway to take positions on each side of the massive main doors, being replaced by another pair coming from the house to the median position. The process was repeated until eight of the scouts were positioned at the front doors, one was in a position across the street from the church on the south side, another on the north side, another to the east and one remaining at the median position.
Finding the front doors locked, the squad split into two four-man pods, one heading clockwise and the other counter-clockwise, testing doors and windows as they circled the large building in opposite directions. Meeting at an alcove at the rear of the building, Alex broke a glass pane in an old door, and they gained access into a narrow hallway.
The building smelled musty, but without the smell of death they had anticipated, and they made their way down the dark hallway past several empty rooms to a large industrial kitchen. Commercial ovens and stovetops lined one wall, deep stainless-steel sinks lined another, and a long stainless-steel prep table ran down the middle of the room. Flattened cardboard boxes were stacked in a corner and a large room marked Storage and filled with shelves stood empty. Pots, pans and other cooking implements hung neatly but dusty from overhead racks.
They left the kitchen through double swinging doors into a large hall filled with tables and chairs with a stage at one end.
As in the kitchen, everything was neatly arranged as if awaiting the next event. Racks of extra chairs stood along the far wall, stacks of Bibles and hymnals sat on a long wall shelf and the wide serving window from the kitchen stood open as if expecting to be used at any moment.
They left the hall through a large doorway into a reception area, then ascended a flight of wide, grey marble steps to a richly appointed ante room that gave access to an equally appointed transept that looked out onto an immense sanctuary. The towering stone nave dwarfed the rows of red velvet cushioned pews, and tall stained-glass windows painted the room with a myriad of rich colors. The scouts looked around with a combination of watchfulness and awe.
"I've never carried a rifle into a church before," said Alex quietly.
"Things change," shrugged the scout next to him.
Alex nodded slowly, still marveling at the beauty of the building. "Yeah, they do. Go by twos and check the place. If it's good, we'll bring the forward base here."
14
"I want to keep our area as small as we need to in order to keep our borders tight but expand our influence and information-gathering as wide as possible."
Jim, Christian, Mike, Tom and Bill had gathered in the den and Jim leaned forward from his seat on the couch to trace an area on a map with a black marker. "We will secure this area; highway 68 on the north, highway 152 on the south, highway 69 on the east and highways 7 and 169 on the west."
He marked several spots on the outline. "Louisburg, Paola, Osawatomie and Lacygne are on the borders of this area. Within the borders is ample land appropriate for both row crops and livestock, as well as large tracts of woodland. It contains a number of oil and gas wells and several miles of the Marais Des Cygnes river. Essentially, it has everything needed for self-sufficiency."
He leaned back on the couch. "I've gone over this already with Christian, who will be taking care of an increasing amount of our business outside Stonemont while I sit around and goof off."
"Finally slowing down?" asked Bill with a smile.
Jim chuckled. "Yep. I've got you guys to do all the work. Now, I can hang around, play with the kids and think deep thoughts."
He turned to Tom. "We're going to set up trading posts just inside our borders next to each of the towns I mentioned. They will be stocked and supplied from our central stores, staffed by scouts, and will serve multiple functions. The first will be commercial - to establish trade with those towns and the surrounding areas. Developing relations with those areas is important.
"The second will be to serve as outposts. Being staffed by scouts, they will be forward posts, either observation or operations, as needed. The third will be as information collectors. The scouts assigned to these posts will appear to be nothing more than merchants and traders. They will be armed, which will seem normal, but they will wear regular clothing, keeping their gear out of sight unless needed."
He nodded at Mike. "I've already discussed this with Mike, and he will choose the teams to staff the posts, each team containing several female scouts to give it a softer feel and better chance of establishing communications with the women of the area."
He looked back at Tom. "The posts will be stocked with things people might want but can't get anymore, as well as having a small eating area. This should draw the locals and, a
s it becomes more widely known, people in the surrounding area. Hopefully, it will help us establish good relations with the locals and, just as Jamestown does, generate information about the dynamics of the area."
Tom nodded. "How soon are these posts going to be up and running?"
Jim turned to Christian. "I'll let Christian answer that."
"Mike has scouted those areas and has selected several appropriate locations at each one," said Christian. "We're in the process of seeing which ones are not on owner-occupied land, then we'll make a decision. As soon as we make a decision, we'll build the post, which should take less than five days. Then, we'll send a truck to stock it. All-in-all, we hope to have them open within a month."
"That's quick," said Bill. "Only five days to build a post?"
Christian nodded. "Your wife designed them and said it should only take about three days, but we're going to allow five. Each post will be built of cob and logs, have a large room for the store, two sleeping rooms, a compost toilet, a shower, and a corral in back. We're going to be sending our best construction crews to get them done fast."
Tom nodded. "I like it. It allows us to learn about the area and the people by becoming a part of it. There's no better way."
"And it does it in a way that is completely voluntary and cooperative, which is important," said Mike.
Jim got up from the couch and walked to the bar to retrieve the pitcher of sweet tea.
"These will just be the first such posts," he said, returning to the table and topping off Bill and Tom's glasses. "Mike already has teams scouting locations to the west of us."
He topped off Mike and Christian's glasses, then his own. "Freelove and McGregor are good men. I'd hitch my wagon to theirs with no problem."
He set the pitcher on the table and sat back down on the couch. "I imagine the others are too, but I don't know them, and the best way to get to know somebody is to do business with them."
