“A lot of this is stuff we took out of Landshire’s vault,” I finally explained. “Again, not stuff we want to get caught with right now, but we also don’t want them to end up in anybody else’s hands. Other stuff, well, we just need to keep out of circulation for awhile.”
“Are those…”
“Yeah,” I confirmed, following her gaze. “Hand grenades. Look but don’t touch for now. Mike has a training model he can teach you with later.”
“Where on Earth did you come up with grenades?”
“Would you believe the sheriff had some crazy things in his secret stash?” I asked, trying to project innocence. I stripped the canvas sleeve off the first long gun, reaching down to deposit the rifle into a free slot on one of the racks, then repeated the process with the last rifle and finally dropped the crossbar into place.
“Uh, sure, we can go with that,” Nancy replied with a droll flippancy that hinted I might be in over my head.
“Why would you need to keep some weapons out of circulation, as you said?” Nancy asked, and I could tell this was intended more to change the subject than real curiosity.
“Have you ever seen a movie about the organized crime, and hear the phrase, ‘that gun’s got bodies on it?’ When warning another character to drop their piece in the river, I mean.”
Nancy nodded, biting her lip, her expression growing suddenly serious in the deep shadows. “I know Nikki had to kill some guys at a gas station on her way here. Is her pistol stored in one of these boxes?”
“That is entirely possible,” I allowed without giving her actual confirmation. “No good would come of it, if somebody were to run ballistic comparisons on some of these, but that’s all that needs to be said. Like I mentioned, some of these guns have bodies on them.”
“And you’ve got things down here it wouldn’t do to be found by any search warrant,” Nancy continued.
“Yes. Frankly, Landshire had way more in the way of guns, cash and drugs than we expected. Old Bernie was either way more tied up in the drug trade than we ever suspected, or our former sheriff was already taking out gangs outside the county.”
“Why didn’t you just dispose of the drugs, then? Aren’t they a huge risk to have around? I can’t see anybody here being big druggies anyway,” Nancy stated, and I just shook my head.
“Look, I’ve never been a user but in my mind, the War on Drugs was nothing more than a huge fundraiser for law enforcement and a way to keep minorities down. Most drugs are just poison, but think about it for a moment. What about pot? What about all the prescription pain killers?”
“What about them?” Nancy asked carefully, like she was negotiating a mine field. Maybe she was worried she might be seeing a new side to me.
“Nancy, when Sally was shot, what did Pat and the nurses give her?”
“I don’t know. Antibiotics, something for shock…” Nancy started, then paused before continuing, so I finished the thought for her.
“And pain meds of some sort, right?” I asked.
Nancy nodded, slowly at first, then faster.
“You think our own people will need those painkillers down the road, don’t you?”
“Sheesh, Nancy, I already needed painkillers when I bruised those ribs,” I explained. “Over the counter stuff, but still. When the supply chain runs out, I won’t be able to run down to the pharmacy and get a prescription filled, and that’s assuming I can find a doctor to write it.”
“That’s why you have so many books on herbal remedies, right?” Nancy asked, and I could almost hear the gears turning.
“That’s a big part of it. I’m just glad Mike dropped the weight so he can get by without his high blood pressure prescription for the time being.”
Kneeling, I switched off the small lamp and muscled the door shut on the contraband, then used the magnet in my pocket to reset the lock. Standing, I took a second to flip off the miner’s light I was wearing, plunging us into shadow only broken by the faint glow around the hatch. We stood awkwardly in the dark for a moment, and I reached out, placing my hands gently on Nancy’s shoulders more by feel that anything else.
“Nancy, I’m just scared to death one of us, especially one of the kids, is going to develop diabetes or something like that. Type Two diabetes is somewhat treatable with diet and exercise, but we aren’t set up to make insulin. I mean, we probably can do it, but from a practical standpoint, Nancy, someone with Type One diabetes is likely to die in the coming months. You need to understand that people dependent on prescription drugs aren’t going to be getting them after awhile.”
“It’s going to get that bad, you think?” Nancy asked, but it really wasn’t a question.
“Yeah, that’s the way the indicators are pointing. We’re already seeing breaks in the grocery supply chain, and desperate people are doing things out of character as they begin to figure out the old status quo is a long ways from returning.”
Nancy nodded at that, and leaned into my embrace, tucking her head under my chin.
“I hear about the growing lawlessness out there, and I can see it in folks’ faces when I’m working out in the field. That’s why we work in teams now. And I followed your advice and make sure I don’t go anywhere without my pistol.”
The idea of Nancy being in danger left me cold, and I wanted to say something about that, but I bit my tongue instead. Despite my desire to swaddle her in bubble wrap, Nancy was tough, and getting tougher. Nikki was overseeing her pistol training for now, but based on my sister’s reports, Nancy was ready to move up to varsity and start taking classes with Pat.
“Yeah,” I managed to mutter, “even that drug thug I managed to talk to seemed to be saying their gang was worried about what is going to happen.”
“Bryan, folks aren’t just desperate, they’re terrified about what happens next. You’ve mentioned what you call ‘normalcy bias’ before, where people are convinced things will get better and whatever disruption they are dealing with is only temporary. But, what happens when they figure out the government isn’t going to bail them out this time?”
I paused, making a show of rubbing my chin in pretend contemplation, something that I was almost certain Nancy couldn’t see, but the gesture gave me an excuse to release her arm. I didn’t want her to think I was getting too clingy, after all.
“Well, I think the technical term is ‘batshit crazy’ but I might be a bit off on my calculations,” I finally replied.
“How’s that?”
“I was sure we’d have zombies by now.”
Nancy took a moment to digest my words, then slapped my arm, hard as she tried not to laugh at the absurd comment.
“You’re terrible, Mr. Hardin,” she scolded, and then turned to climb out the hatch back into the mechanical room. I followed her, wishing I’d left my headlight on as I studied the way her jeans clung to her shapely rear in the near dark.
“I’m just as bad as you want me to be,” I quipped back, taking the rungs of the short ladder in stride as I followed closely behind and then paused after emerging into the larger, better lit space, lifting the invisible door back into place and resecuring the lock.
“Okay, that’s fair. I do have more questions, though.”
“Go ahead,” I prompted.
I still don’t know why you call it the Deep Freeze,” Nancy complained.
“That’s easy. A deep freeze is designed to keep things on ice, like this stuff. Plus, when we were kids, our parents had a huge freezer in the garage. When our father had one of the cows butchered, the freezer would be full to the brim, but over time, the contents dwindled down from usage and one of us would practically have to crawl inside to get the last package of hamburger at the bottom.”
“Just like you have to do here,” Nancy finished the thought for me. “I still can’t believe you managed to install all this right under Wade’s nose without him tumbling to it.”
“We just dug out the space, mostly,” I explained, giving more detail than I ever had in
the past. “The install crew that came with the modules did most of the donkey work. Hooking up the generators, showing us where to bury the extra tanks and all that. It actually helped that the shelter is adjacent to the basement rather than taking up any of the square footage. Once Wade was done with the house, we just needed a concrete saw to cut out that short passageway behind the stairs and install the outer submarine style door. Not easy, but Mike, Marta and I managed to get it done on a weekend when Nikki and Pat were over for a visit.”
“But all this…”
“Was installed much later, and over a couple of years. The only other major item I wanted to acquaint you with is over in the bunkhouse side of the shelter.”
I watched as Nancy made a slow turn, almost a pirouette, as she regarded me with one eyebrow cocked in such a way that nearly took my breath away. The lithe, cat-like motion resulted in highlighting certain assets, reminding me once again that Nancy Prentiss was a world-class hottie masquerading as a heavy equipment operator.
“You have something to show me in the bedroom, Mr. Hardin? Are you still trying to work your wiles on me?”
Nancy’s smile took my breath away, and as I was captured by the azure fire in those blue eyes, I nodded my head like an empty-headed fool. Clearly, her earlier dark mood was beginning to dissipate. Nancy Prentiss was made of sterner stuff, and her diamond core was shining through under pressure.
She had a beautiful, heart-shaped face, with high cheekbones and a perfect nose, and her neck was long and elegant, reminding me of a blonde Audrey Hepburn. Men noticed this, of course, they’d have to be blind not to. Nancy worked hard to de-emphasize the effect, wearing little to no makeup and keeping her hair cut short and efficient. Her practice of wearing heavy denim painter’s pants and thick flannel shirts at work prevented the casual observer from realizing the spectacular form under those layers, but I’d been around her enough to realize that if she so desired, Nancy could have made her living as a model. Dorothy had mentioned such in passing, but after her assault and the ensuing turmoil in her life, the last thing Nancy wanted was a spotlight pointed in her direction.
I thought about her old college boyfriend and made a mental note to kill him slowly if he ever entered into what Mike and Pat referred to as our ‘Area of Operation’. Sure, I would be murdering Lisa’s biological father, but somehow, that idea didn’t bother me in the slightest.
Finally shaking off the glamour of her gaze, I managed to string my words together.
“I…I was going to show you the other thing that we had installed that week when Wade and Dorothy were on vacation. The escape tunnel. Entry is through the back wall of the women’s dormitory.”
Nancy faltered, then recovered with a wry grin that looked more ‘girl next door’ than ‘hot pinup girl’ but even in this dim light, she still managed to push my buttons.
“Damn, I thought that was some kind of code for your secret love shack, but you really did manage to surprise me once again. How in the heck did you pull that off?”
“Come with me and I’ll show you, once we seal this place back up. Then we can see if the lava lamp I installed in my secret love shack is still working.”
Nancy blushed prettily at my words, but she also listened carefully as I walked her though the process of locking down the antechamber leading to the Deep Freeze. On our way out of the mechanical room, Nancy picked up on the stash of MREs and sleeping bags lining the metal walls of the chamber. Like the secret room below, all of the available wall space went into shelving and storage.
“Just so you know, there’s no way out of the shelter on this side, but we also designed that next room above the Deep Freeze as a secret hiding place in case the shelter was breached and some of our people were cut off from the exit.”
“I find myself repeating my words, but again you surprise me. In the old days before a meteorite killed a quarter of the world’s population, I’d worry you and your family were paranoid,” Nancy began, and I knew exactly what she meant.
“And now you’re worried if we are paranoid enough?”
Nancy’s strained smile was all the confirmation I needed that my words had hit the mark.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I want to bring you guys on board as reserve deputies,” Bastrop announced without preamble, just as soon as his butt hit the chair.
We were sitting in the kitchen, sipping coffee while the acting sheriff looked over the reports we’d stayed up late to assemble. Of the four involved in the shooting from the day before, only Sally gave a verbal statement when Bastrop stopped to visit over at the Husband’s first. I sat there with my sister, as Mike and Pat both decided it was a good idea to double up on the escort complement for this morning’s hospital run. They were also escorting Sally in to have her wounds checked out by an actual doctor, and not someone just pretending to be one.
The house felt strangely empty with Beatrice once again on security room duty and the kids all upstairs watching a movie with Nancy. I’d tried to get her to sit in on this meeting, but she’d declined. I wasn’t sure if that was because she wanted to spend more time with Lisa or to avoid listening to a repeat of the fight. Or maybe it was something else.
Much to my relief, Maddy and Cece didn’t put up a fuss when I asked them to spend the morning over at the Bonner house, helping Mary and Charles set up the cistern system we would use there for capturing rainwater from the roof gutters. Just because we were still receiving a small amount of daily rainfall didn’t mean that would always continue, and Mike worried that we might see a drought after the rains finally stopped. Billy had been scheduled to help, but with Sally being wounded, we all agreed he needed to be there for his mother.
Whether or not Bastrop actually knew of our involvement in the elimination of his predecessor, none of us in the know wanted to rub his nose in it. Hence, getting the two former Ag Extension Agents out of the house.
“Sheriff, while we are all honored at the thought, I don’t think that would be feasible,” I replied, trying to avoid the entanglement. The actions of the day before reinforced our sense of vulnerability, and we were lucky to have survived that fight with only one serious injury.
“Bryan, we’re thin on the ground, and I’m afraid there’s going to be more instances like yesterday.” He made the announcement in a tired monotone, and I wondered if we weren’t the only ones getting by on little sleep today. “The Department needs more eyes and ears out in the rural areas, and I want to swear you in as a reserve sergeant. You and I can sit down and line out areas of responsibility later, but I’d really like you to take the job.”
“Why not Mike, or Pat? Hell, Sally, once she’s healed up, would be a better choice than me. They’ve all got combat experience. They’ve all led men in battle.”
“Two things, Bryan. What the heck do you call what just happened? That was a battle, right there. Okay, an ambush, but you handled yourself fine from what I can tell. I’m reading the reports right now, but I already heard about it from Mrs. Dwyer.”
“Then you should know if any of us should be placed in a leadership position, it should be Pat. He ran the operation from start to finish.”
“Yes, I got that. Nice after-action report from Mr. Parker, by the way,” Bastrop replied, holding up one of the typed sheets. “Somebody might think he’s written one or two of them in his day. I’m confident he ran your fire team as well as any sergeant could, and while it was a small fight and almost completely one-sided, that’s exactly what we want. Never give the other side a fair fight. This isn’t really law enforcement, Bryan. This is about survival.”
I liked the attitude, but I still worried about the blowback, not to mention the other very real demands on our time.
“So?”
“So, I don’t know Patrick Parker. Nobody around here does. He might be Billy Badass, but we’ve already got too many new faces in the Department for the locals to feel comfortable.”
That was a fact attributable to his predecessor, but it di
dn’t change the truth.
“I’m not local, Sheriff,” I protested, but he held up a hand to stop me.
“I’m not either, Bryan. Point is, people in this community know who you are. You earned some serious respect points with what you and your brother did at the feed store, holding off those bank robbers. You’re a local business man, and an officer of the court. You can do the job, what there is to it, without upsetting the people who live here.” Bastrop gave a sigh and chuckled mirthlessly to himself. “Hell, Landshire did more to hurt himself in the public eye by recruiting those out-of-town thugs with badges of his than anything else he pulled. I’ll not make that mistake.”
“We did okay against a bunch of asshats one step up from gang-bangers,” I conceded, wanting to avoid any more discussion of our late, unlamented sheriff. “What’s the second point?”
“There’s a quiet little memo that’s been circulated in law enforcement circles,” Bastrop explained, growing more serious and his tired eyes turned sharp. “Hasn’t been reported in the news, and never will be. Seems our governor wants to recruit all the prior service guys he can get his hands on into the State Guard.”
“State Guard? What?”
The news caught me by surprise. “I thought they were strictly disaster relief and recovery? They don’t carry weapons and certainly aren’t a combat branch of the state government.”
“There’s been a bit of a shake-up in Austin,” Bastrop explained, then yawned even with the caffeine coursing through his system. “With the Texas Army National Guard being federalized, they are effectively out of the governor’s chain of command. And their orders are to prepare to march on the border to engage with hostile Mexican troops and aligned insurgents. The governor wants some force capable of being a backup in case the situation spirals further out of control.”
Tertiary Effects Series | Book 3 | Bite of Frost Page 8
