“You can, and you will,” I retorted with feeling in my voice. “If we are going to secure the neighborhood, we are going to need to have you working even before that collarbone is healed. Ground security is right up your alley, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Sally admitted, “but that was a lot of years ago.”
“Like riding a bicycle, and Pat and Mike will be there to help. But we need someone to oversee it, work up the standards, and to run the show. You up for that?”
Sally looked up then, and her years seemed to fade as she gave me her fiercest momma bear grin. “Anybody tries to get in here, and we will fuck them up.”
“That’s what I want to hear,” I replied as I headed for the door. “We are a team, Sally Girl, and we’ll keep plugging along until you get back to us, you hear?”
We would give her time to recover, but over the next few weeks, I could imagine Sally taking on the role of running the defense of our growing community, while Pat continued to play sergeant over what amounted to our rapid reaction force. Since some of the locals knew me, I would be the figurehead, but it would be Patrick Parker who would direct our small group of deputies, and I was fine with that.
I had to get the family ready for the fall we knew was coming. If acting as a reserve deputy helped in that goal, then I was willing to play ball. If this sheriff turned out to be no better than his predecessor, then I would deal with that as well. I’d killed one already, so what was another, if that was the cost of keeping my people safe?
The drive back home was quiet, punctuated only by low comments as Mike and Pat discussed their plans for the following day. I sat with Nancy, holding her hand except for when we reached the field gate and I jumped out to open it for the SUV. The rain, really a light mist, felt chill on the exposed skin of my hands, and I reminded myself to keep my gloves on me as part of my kit from this point forward. I estimated the temperature was down into the forties this night. Though we hadn’t experienced a repeat yet of the snow, but I could tell the weather had definitely changed. Despite what the calendar might claim, we were definitely well into winter.
Once Mike had Marta’s SUV parked in the garage, we trooped back over to the back door and proceeded to divest ourselves of our gear. This took a little coordination, as we all had muddy boots and damp jackets to deposit, and I volunteered to see to the boots later. I might not be up to doing the ‘spit shine’ job that Mike and Pat still practiced, but I could knock the bigger chunks off and run a cleaning rag over the tough, weatherproof material. Then, all it took was a drop of the deodorizing mixture Beatrice cooked up into each open boot, and the job was done.
Keeping our boots clean and functional seemed a small thing, but I’d come to realize that in combat, victory sometimes came down to winning at the small things. After Mike and Pat both cited instances in the past where they could actually smell the enemy by the stink of their funky body odor, and after Pat gave his speech about troops incapacitated by a nasty case of trench foot, I decided we could and would avoid those issues. We kept our bodies and our clothes as clean as possible, including our boots, and we took turns maintaining our boots and other gear.
Pat took it a step further, banning the use of scented soaps and deodorants in the field. He also took charge of maintaining the body armor and plate carriers we all used so they didn’t carry a locker-room stink with them. Bad hygiene had all kinds of negative effects, but to me, getting yourself shot seemed to be the biggest one by far.
“You be sure and get the insides clean, you hear?”
Mike’s mocking voice drew me out of my musings as I finished with wiping down the backs of my boots, and I mimed throwing the filthy rag at his face before responding.
“I got the boots, now you can sweep the floor. How’s that for a trade?”
Mike picked up the broom before I’d even finished the last word, reflecting his thoughts on the matter. As Mike swept, I stepped over to the corner and used a sliver of soap to wash up in the tiny shop sink, taking the time to get my hands really clean. Again, Pat’s lectures on adequate hygiene stuck with me.
“You going to have a talk with Charlie when you get back from town tomorrow?”
I sighed, thinking about young man. With his skillset, Charles could be a valuable asset to our endeavors, but he seemed fixated on heading home to a job that no longer existed, in a town that was no more than an expanse of flooded foundations and chemical spills beyond the worst Superfund site.
I’d listened to the reports from others, conveyed over the HAM network, of the polluted coastal plains from New Orleans all the way down to Corpus Christi. Though the damage seemed less than what had destroyed Houston, no one had any idea when survivors would be allowed to return. Eyewitness accounts, carried back by homeowners with more guile than sense who evaded the military cordon along the coast, painted a grim picture. No power, no running water, and nowhere to start repairing the infrastructure. I thought about the combination rice paddies and crawfish farms around Winnie and shivered. Just what we needed-giant mutated crawfish crawling out of the swamps.
“You think he’ll stick? I know his mom’s gone, but maybe he’s reconnected with his father?” Mike asked, and I didn’t know what to tell him. The fast-acting breast cancer that had claimed Charles’ mother three years ago came as a shock to the family, and to the best of my knowledge, his father had been out of the picture since Charles was still in elementary school. About the only other family he had was his aunt, and she lived out of state.
“We will have to see. I like him, and you know how I feel about Mary, but I can’t see trying to keep things secret around here from our own people. Nothing says he can’t go back to work for his old company later, or move back down when the time comes, but if he’s going to stay here, we need to know he’s got our backs.”
“You thinkin’ about asking him to join the team?”
Mike didn’t have to specify which team he meant. Whatever you wanted to call it, the four of us worked well together, and now we were down a person. Sally was already being missed, and we didn’t have a lot of options to choose from on that front.
“I don’t know. You think he can hack it?”
“No, I don’t,” Mike plainly stated. “He can shoot, and he might do okay on home defense, but I just can’t see him going on the offense. That’s why I voted he stay home when we went after Landshire.”
Mike’s response didn’t surprise me. I shared a similar belief. Going on the offense meant hunting down threats, and shooting them from ambush if that was necessary. Some people had a killer instinct, but I just didn’t see that in Charles.
“We need another body,” Mike continued. He cocked his head at me. “Nikki?”
“She could probably handle the physical side, and we already know she’ll drop the hammer,” I said, smirking at the last words before the inevitable frown twisted my lips. “But we can’t use her in any high risk jobs, and you know it.”
And right there, we bumped our heads against the unspoken rule. Nobody plans on getting shot or killed doing what we needed to do, but the threat was there. Sally got off extremely lucky in a sense. Yes, the bullet missed her body armor, but it could have just as easily been a lethal hit. We couldn’t take Nikki, not because she was our sister, but because there was no way we could risk those kids losing both parents because we had a bad day in the Apocalypse. That was the unwritten but very real rule.
“We need more shooters,” Mike concluded, and I couldn’t disagree.
“I’ll talk to Charles tomorrow after I get back from town, and we will see about Wil’s friend.”
“We still need more bodies. More shooters, so think about it,” Mike reminded. “Times like this, I really wish Bart had made it out alive.”
“You don’t know he’s dead,” I chided. “Anybody else from your old days you can think of who might fit in here? I know Pat is thinking hard on names as well.”
“Been awhile since I was in,” Mike conceded, then his face tw
isted. “I lost track on so many, and some others that I did talk to, lived on the West Coast.”
“Yeah, well, think on it. We’ve secured enough supplies to feed fifty people for two years, but that doesn’t help if we can’t defend ourselves.”
Mike’s grimace turned into a grin as he tried to lighten the mood with his parting shot.
“Why did it have to be a meteorite? I was so hoping for zombies.”
Really?” I asked.
“You know,” Mike continued. “The slow ones. Not those sprinters like in that British movie with the renegade soldiers.”
“You really have put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”
Mike shrugged.
“Man’s gotta have a hobby, you know.”
With that bit of insight, I decided it was well past my bedtime. If I dreamed that night, I couldn’t remember the details.
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning, the meeting with Sheriff Bastrop turned into a bigger thing than I expected as the county judge, Alan Peterson, was waiting there for us in the sheriff’s office, along with Buddy Cromwell, the former New Albany chief of police. After Sheriff Lanshire’s death and the promotion of Bastrop into that role at least until the next election, the decision to roll the city police into the larger department just made sense. Now, Buddy served as the Acting Sheriff’s second in command, with the rank of Captain, and there was speculation Buddy might run against Bastrop come November. If they were all still alive come November, I might have to think real hard on who to vote for.
“Bryan, Wil, Patrick, come in and have a seat,” Sheriff Bastrop offered, and we acquiesced, finding the other two men already waiting in the office. He glanced around, as if looking for something, or someone. Then it clicked.
“Mike and Wade are on a job this morning,” I explained. I stopped, then realized these men might need additional information. “They will be discussing our concerns regarding the future security at the hospital, what with the Guard pulling out.”
“Good deal,” the sheriff replied. “Not even sworn in yet and already doing the work needed. Now, under Texas law, I need to do background checks for reserve deputies, so I’ll need to get some information from the three of you. Given the circumstances, the Judge has decided the waive the issuance of a bond for any reserve deputies for the duration of the emergency.”
That was a relief. I had my checkbook in my pocket, after reviewing Local Government Code 85, and familiarizing myself with the requirements for reserve deputies. Not an area of the law I ever had to research, but I had taken the computer discs from my office including the ones with the appropriate sections of the Code, so looking them up was only a matter of a few minutes on my computer the night before.
Anticipating what he would require for the positions, I withdrew a neatly folded sheet of paper from my shirt pocket and handed it to the sheriff as soon as he finished speaking.
“There’s all the information you’ll need to run the background checks for our people. That includes Wade and Wil here.”
I’d included the Social Security numbers, date of birth, and Texas driver’s license numbers for those of our combined group that volunteered for duty as a reserve deputy.
“Be careful which database you use for Patrick,” I cautioned, and my brother-in-law gave me a pained look but didn’t correct me. When the sheriff gave me a hard look of his own, I had to shrug.
“Master Sergeant Parker here was with 3rd Special Forces out of Ft. Bragg,” I explained, “and I suspect he has a higher security clearance than just about anybody in the room. I also think he did some work for one or more of the alphabet agencies before, or maybe after, he entered civilian life, but that is strictly speculation.”
“No felonies or misdemeanors involving crimes of moral turpitude, Master Sergeant?” the sheriff asked, picking up a pen from the desk as he asked the question.
“Please, call me Pat. And you have met my wife, Sheriff? You think…”
“Fair point, Pat,” Bastrop replied with a chuckle as he drew a line through one entry on the sheet before looking at me, then shifting his glance to Wil.
“You three ready to be sworn in, provisionally, and take effect once I run these checks?”
“Yes, sir,” we replied in unison, and the sheriff did just that, administering the oath.
For Pat and Wil, it was probably old hat, since they’d already taken an oath to protect and defend the Constitution. For me, it felt very odd, since I hadn’t done anything of the sort since passing the state Bar and being admitted as an attorney. Honestly, I don’t even remember what the old oath entailed, but this one resonated inside me. That bastard Bastrop, I thought, for making me feel responsibility like this.
After he finished, the sheriff signed three forms, provisionally making us all reserve deputies, and then he asked Buddy to help Pat and Wil find the promised equipment. He’d go ahead and run Mike and Wade’s information and get their approvals in the file. Buddy seemed happy playing tour guide, but when I stood to leave, Sheriff Bastrop gestured for me to wait up.
“I mentioned your interest in the Fitts property to Judge Peterson,” the sheriff said by way of introduction to the topic. “If you don’t mind holding on, I think the Judge may have a few questions.”
“No problem, Sheriff. Your Honor,” I replied, paying my proper respects to the county judge.
County Judge is an odd position. In Texas, they preside over the commissioner’s court, not a regular courtroom, and they are essentially the elected chief executive for the county, along with the county commissioners who act as the legislative branch, if that analogy holds. The county judge and the county commissioners work out the budget for the county, deciding where to spend the tax dollars and how. I knew at least some of the commissioners were cozy with our late, unlamented sheriff, but I didn’t know for sure where Judge Peterson had stood with the man. Let’s be real careful, I cautioned myself.
“I read your statement regarding the attempted takeover of your homestead by Sergeant Bailey, and now, you and your friends and family successfully defended the Husbands from another bandit attempt. I would think these activities would spread your assets very thin, and yet here we find you not only volunteering to help protect this community but also seeking to expand your holdings. Most interesting.”
Since there was no question in there, I kept my mouth shut.
“Tell me, Mr. Hardin, if you hadn’t been able to bluff Sergeant Bailey and his men into leaving, how would you have handled the situation?”
“Killed them, then called the sheriff,” I replied, no hesitation in my response. “If they would have persisted in their efforts, they would have been no better than these bandits we fought the other night.”
Judge Peterson blinked, suddenly at a loss for words. Whatever the Judge had been expecting, my response clearly hadn’t been on his radar.
“Just like that? I mean, the sergeant and his two deputies are well-trained and by all accounts, vicious opponents. What they did to the sheriff and the men at his house…” Peterson stopped, and seemed to suppress a shiver at the memory. “And why couldn’t you do that with these men in the woods? Bluff them into leaving. Into abandoning their approach?”
“Your Honor,” I replied while the judge recovered. “We had the luxury or running the sergeant and his bully boys off. We simply had more men, men willing to do violence to protect their home. The night before last, we had no way of bluffing those men off. They had the numbers and they were at least as well armed as our team. There was no route to a peaceful outcome.”
“And that brings me back to the Fitts property. Why do you want it?”
“Your Honor, are you familiar with the term ‘attractive nuisance’ in the legal setting?”
I knew Judge Peterson was a pharmacist by trade, not a lawyer, but the term may have come up in discussions with the county attorney.
“Ah, yes. If I understand where you are going, you feel the vacant house next to y
our neighbors will continue to attract unwanted attention to your neighborhood, correct?”
“That’s correct. I want to pool funds with my family and purchase the property, then rent it out to a trustworthy family with the stipulation they watch our backs.”
“And I take it Wade Husband and his family are on board with this idea?”
“Yes, sir. Wade thinks it’s a fine idea. So does Ethan and Wil Huckabee. He’s married to one of Wade’s sisters and they are living at Wade’s after their house was damaged in this recent string of hurricanes. Wil’s a former Marine, and his advice has been invaluable.” I explained, then expanded on my explanation. “In fact, Wil said something about defense in depth, which he had to explain to me. Means being able to engage an enemy, and having several layers available to retreat and maneuver your forces. Like I told the Sheriff, I listen to what people like my brother, Wil and Pat say. They’ve been there, done that. I have to rely on the History Channel for my tactical training.”
“And yet Terry appointed you as his sergeant,” Peterson observed. “I trust he explained the politics behind that move?”
“Absolutely, sir, and I agree with the Sheriff’s reasoning. Last thing we need are more outsiders muddying the waters here,” I replied, sensing where the county judge was going. “I’ll be the figurehead, and I will follow orders.”
I was careful not to specify who’s orders I would follow, and fortunately, the county judge heard what he wanted to hear and was willing to move on.
“Have you spoken to your other neighbors about this idea, Mr. Hardin?”
“No sir, not yet. And please sir, call me Bryan.”
“Okay, Bryan, I think we can work something out. If you get approval from your neighbors. Will that be a problem? And any reason why you haven’t broached the subject with them?”
“That would be the Lovetts. No reason, really. They’re nice folks. Raise horses, and we’ve bought a few from them.” I wanted to add, ‘I haven’t shed blood with them like I have with Wade’s people’, but that sentence died before reaching my lips. Keeping secrets was hard, dang it. None of us would talk about that night outside our circle. Instead, I went with a safer alternative. “I just wanted to see if this was even possible, first, before raising the idea. They shouldn’t complain, since those bandits could just have easily targeted their house by mistake instead of Wade’s.”
Tertiary Effects Series | Book 3 | Bite of Frost Page 11
