Fire From the Sky: Friendly Fire

by N. C. Reed

  “I'm Cliff Laramie,” the older man next to him stood. “I drove a fuel truck before all this started. Matter of fact, I did that for Shane on the way here, too. Like Sienna I'm a decent shade tree mechanic, though not as skilled as she is, especially on the military rigs. My wife and I divorced three years ago when she traded me for a wealthier model,” he smiled to take the sting from his words. “So, it was just me when Shane found me and my dead fuel truck on the side of the road. Offered me the chance to join them and I jumped at it. Luckiest thing to happen to me ever, to be honest. I appreciate the chance to join him, and to be a part of your community.” As he sat down a young woman dressed all in black, including her make-up, stood up. Her long black hair trailed down her back, held in check with a band around her head. She was clearly of Asian decent. Probably Chinese, Clay decided.

  “My name is Millie Long,” she spoke English without any accent. “I'm a hacker for the most part, which is not in demand these days since most computers are deader than Abe Lincoln. But I am a fair hand at electronics and can repair and build things like circuit boards. Again that's not overly useful at this point. My only hobby was ham radio, and yet again that isn't much use since my equipment was fried when the sun burped on us. Shane found me foraging for food and needed someone to monitor radios for him, lucky me. And I mean that. If not for him and the rest, I don't honestly know what would have become of me. I don't like to think on it, truthfully.”

  “You were a ham operator?” Deuce asked from down the table. “Anything else along that line?”

  She looked at him for a few seconds, as if weighing whether to reply or not.

  “He's part of our radio room crew,” Clay told her, hoping to head off a problem.

  “Oh,” Long seemed to relax at that. “Uh, yeah, I used short wave to . . . well, for a lot of things,” she shrugged. “I have a little experience with long wave because it was something my parents used in Taiwan to talk to mainland China. It's limited though. I'm also familiar with side-band and FM equipment, the FM not as much as the rest, and I can build equipment, too.”

  “Awesome,” Deuce nodded. Long noticed the girl beside him doing the same thing.

  “I'm glad you approve,” she couldn't help add, and noticed that rather than get angry, the two grinned wider.

  “I think we can find a place for you,” the girl, Leanne she thought, said. “You’ll fit right in with us.”

  “Great,” Long said dryly, but couldn't help smile at the two. “I’ll try to be useful.” She sat down, feeling somehow odd at the exchange but unable to decide just why that was. The last man in their group was standing. A tall, graying black man with the look of a strong but gentle soul. Despite the fact that he was probably in his fifties, his arms were heavy with muscle that could only be earned in labor rather than reps in the gym.

  “My name is Moses Brown,” his voice was a rich, pleasing baritone. “I wasn't sure what I could do for you until we got here and I saw your operation,” he said to Clay. “I'm a butcher by trade,” he said and Clay found himself smiling back.

  “Hot damn,” Ronny Tillman said, getting an elbow from his pregnant wife.

  “Language,” she warned. “You've got to break that habit.”

  “Like I said, I'm a butcher by trade and have been for twenty years,” Brown continued. “I started in slaughterhouses and then managed to hire on with a grocery that wanted a butcher's apprentice. I had opened my own shop about five years before the calamity hit. I have to admit I ain't got much in the way of a hobby, especially after I opened my own place. Hopefully I can be useful in some way when you don't need meat cut. I can drive a rig, so I guess that's a talent, at least. And I can drive a tractor a little, though I don't know if I could help you farm an outfit this size,” he admitted.

  “If you can drive at all, it helps,” Robert fielded that one. “We're working more land than we did before the CME and harvest will be here before you know it. Glad to have you.”

  “Thank you,” Brown bowed slightly. “I am glad I could make the trip. Shane needed a driver and . . . well, I didn't have any reason not to take the offer, to be honest. That's how I ended up here. It's a pleasure to meet all of you, even under the circumstances. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to be part of your community.” He sat down and people up and down the table looked around. Mattie Simmons was sitting with Abby and Sam, and slowly stood up, towering over the table.

  “Most of you probably know me, or at least know my folks,” her voice wasn't weak exactly, but it was subdued. “I went to University of Memphis on a double ride in volleyball and basketball. When the sun did whatever I was in Houston at an away game. I was trying to walk home when Shane and his group stopped and offered me a chance to join them. I . . . when he told me where they were going it was like a literal sign from God. There was no way they could know where I was from, right? Anyway, I had walked I really don't know how far, and here was a chance to ride home, maybe, and at least be safer than I had been in a month, so . . . I took the chance and joined them.” She looked then at Shane, who flushed ever so slightly but hid it well.

  “And he brought me home,” Mattie finished and sat down.

  Before anyone could speak, the door opened to reveal Leon. He hadn't wanted to sit through the entire thing, but had agreed to come down and be introduced to the group as a whole. He leaned heavily on his staff, Janice no more than a hand's width away. Brick followed them inside, closing the door behind him. Clay was about to call out a welcome when he heard a chair scrape on the floor. He turned to see Xavier Adair on his feet, facing the approaching trio as if he expected trouble. That was odd, but it was the look on his face that shocked Clay.

  Clay had known Xavier a long time. Years. But even in combat he had never seen much in the way of facial expressions from him. His smile was wide enough, but empty. He simply seemed incapable of expressing emotion on any meaningful level.

  But right now his face was almost a snarl as he looked toward where Leon was approaching. A look of savage anger that finally matched the person he knew Xavier to be. But where in the hell could he have run across Leon before? He turned to ask, just in time to see Brick stop dead in his tracks, stiffening like a dog that had seen a rival in his yard.

  Oh. Shit.

  “Hell is wrong with you?” Leon growled over his shoulder, then did a double take when he saw the look on Brick's face. He turned slowly to see the object of Brick's displeasure with a matching look on a smaller face. No less savage; just smaller.

  “Oh,” was all Leon said as he navigated out of the way, Janice going with him. She knew something was wrong, but not what. Her attention was focused on 'Mister Leon' not falling and hurting himself.

  Both Brick and Xavier took two steps toward on another before stopping short, as if remembering where they were.

  “Xavier,” Brick spoke first, his voice brittle.

  “Byron,” Xavier's voice wasn't any better.

  “Far from home,” Brick said.

  “As are you,” Xavier nodded.

  “I see you're as dainty as ever,” Brick's smile was . . . ugly. Clay had never seen such a look on his face before.

  “I see you've maintained your girlish figure,” Xavier gave as good as he got.

  “I had no idea you were part of this group or I would have made sure to welcome you properly,” Brick kept that same frigid smile on as he spoke.

  “I assure you had I known you were here my own arrival would have been much different,” Xavier agreed. “I was sure you would still be plying your trade for whomever could afford to pay you. I never expected to see you in such . . . small, circumstances.”

  “Things do change,” was all Brick said in reply. Suddenly he seemed to realize that everyone was staring at them. He looked at Leon, who was watching him closely.

  “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said. “Apologies for interrupting,” he added to Clay before turning to leave.

  “Tu ne devrais pas partir sur
mon compte, frère,” Xavier sounded mocking as he spoke, almost taunting it seemed. Brick froze as soon as he heard whatever it was Xavier was saying. He turned very slowly, his face a mask.

  “Es muss wirklich das Ende der Welt sein, damit Sie mich so ansprechen,” he almost whispered. And with that he was out the door, leaving a stunned crowd behind. Xavier turned to face them, his face once more the mask of affability that he usually wore.

  “What the hell was that?” Shane demanded before Clay could.

  “Nothing,” Xavier shook his head. “An unwelcome and unwanted surprise. Nothing more than that.”

  “Bullshit,” Shane once more beat Clay to the punch.

  “Later, if you please,” Xavier looked from one to the other. “I'd prefer not to discuss my business in front of everyone like some common hawker.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Clay nodded. He looked quizzically at the Old Man, who just shrugged.

  “Hell if I know,” Leon admitted. He made his way to the head of the table nearest the newcomers.

  “I'm Leon Sanders,” he told them without fanfare. “Most just call me Old Man, and I answer to it just fine. I'm Clayton's grandfather and part owner of this outfit with him and my son. We tried to lay in and be as prepared as we could for all this, but we're as human as the rest and we missed things. We also miscalculated on some people. Took in people that we maybe shouldn't have. That happens in times like these. They say you don't really know a man 'til you see him desperate. Reckon that is true, and we done seen it first hand. I'm willing to bet you done have as well.

  “We're making it, but I ain't gonna lie; it's hard. Ever single person on this place works at least two jobs, and some more. That don't mean an eight hour shift, mind you, but there's a lot to do, and it has to get done, plain and simple. While things ain't like they used to be, we have managed to save a good bit. We know that ain't gonna last, though, and we're trying to prepare for that, too.

  “Clayton probably told you, but if not, here's the layout. We got the place on the hill, the family homesteads, and Clay has this place. We got an orphanage on the hill made up of kids we took from a grade A sum'bitch who was using them to trick us. One of the little fellas had a broken arm that my granddaughter-in-law had to re-break in order to set it right. We're maybe not the best folks you’ll ever meet, but damned if we’ll tolerate shit like that. The women among their crowd that had their own children are looking after the orphanage and trying to make good. We're giving them the chance, the rest is up to them.

  “We been attacked three, four times at least,” he looked at Clay, who nodded slowly. “Lost a man or two, got a few still injured,” he indicated Corey Raynard who still wore his sling.

  “You live here, don't doubt it will be hard. Living off the land ain't never been easy and I don't image it ever will be. Just a fact. This place will feed us if we work and take care of it. We got water, we got crop land, and we got stock. We can make it. But you've done learned on your trip here that there are them that are just waiting to take what you work for. There's a trench out yonder,” he pointed east, “full of people who tried to take this place already. Room for more as needed. Be prepared to defend this place. If you ain't, and you're able, then we don't need you. That ain't being rude, it's just cold hard facts. We got too many people now that can't defend themselves, most especially all these young ones. We can't coddle an able bodied adult who can defend themselves but won't. Don't expect you to go out fightin' anywhere else, just expect your help defending the place. No more or less than all of us, me included.

  “Despite everything I had to say just now, we're glad to see you, and to have you here,” Leon's breathing was becoming labored as he spoke and Janice looked concerned. “I hope I ain't made you feel otherwise. I know Clay sets store by you boys,” he looked at Shane at the rest of Clay's teammates sitting near him, “and I assume your judgment of the people you brought along is good. I’ll keep assuming that until I'm proven wrong.

  “We can't afford no infightin'” Leon told them. “We work and stand as a group, or we fall that way. So far we're standing. You're welcome to settle here, so long as you help us keep standing. I know you had a hell of a trip and Clayton has already said you won't none of you have any duties of any kind for a day or two. I'm making it three days from today. We've covered this long, we can manage a few days to let you rest. I would imagine it won't truly hit you until tomorrow that you've rode along the edge of hell to get here. When it does, you’ll need a minute. You’ll have it.

  “I hope to get to know you all as things move on, but as you can te . . . tell, I ain't always well, so I'ma have to cut this short. Welcome to the Sanders' Ranch.” With that he patted Janice on the arm and they started for the door. Zach ran to open it for them, holding it until they stepped out and then following.

  “Well,” Clay broke silence. “That, ladies and gentlemen, was the Old Man, in all his glory.” Gentle laughter rolled down the table from old hands and new alike. “He's had a respiratory problem that won't hardly leave, so he gets a bit short of breath at times. Don't always know if it's a curse or a blessing,” he snorted.

  “Clayton Sanders!” Angela scolded while everyone else laughed.

  “He'd say the same thing,” Robert chuckled, earning him a glare from his mother as well.

  “All right, you heard the man,” Clay brought the meeting to a close. “Three days’ rest and recuperation. Just what the doctor ordered. Relax, rest, recover. If we have an emergency we may have to call on you for help, but otherwise, just take it easy. Like Leon said, you've earned it just making the trip. And we're glad to have all of you join us. That's it.”

  Slowly the assembly broke apart as people gradually levitated to those they wanted to speak to. For Clay and Shane, that meant Xavier Adair.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?” Leon growled as Brick drove them home on the golf cart.

  “Ghost of Christmas past, Leon,” Brick said calmly. “That's all.”

  “That's all my ass,” Leon shot back. “You two looked like you was about to square off in a Roman arena.”

  “Wouldn't be the first time,” Brick said without thinking, then winced.

  “Is this gonna be a problem?” Leon wanted to know.

  “Almost certainly.”

  ***

  “You wanna tell us what the hell that was all about?” Clay demanded as he and Shane cornered Xavier outside.

  “Not particularly, no,” came the unruffled reply. “Suffice it to say had I known he was here, I would not have made the trip. That's all.”

  “That's all my ass!” Shane shot back, unknowingly echoing Leon's own sentiments. “We roll in here, new to the area, and I have to find out the hard way you already had a run in with someone here?”

  “I have already said I was unaware of his presence,” Xavier pointed out. “And our 'run in' as you refer to it was long ago. I've not even seen him in years. I had held the fondest hope that he was dead.” His voice took on a wistful note neither had heard very often. Never was it a good sign.

  “What?” Clay was shocked to say the least. “What the hell could you have against a bartender from a strip club?”

  Clay didn't know what he was expecting exactly, but booming laughter from Xavier Adair was not it. Not at all.

  And truthfully, it was a scary laugh.

  ***

  “Brick, we can't have no kinda trouble around here,” Leon said. He had held off on any more discussion until he was seated in his house, oxygen mask over his face. “Now what the hell is going on between you and him?”

  “I'm afraid it's an old and long story,” Brick answered. “And one I don't feel like discussing this evening.”

  “Well just when do you figure you’ll feel up to it, then?” Leon demanded. “‘cause from where I stood, it looked as if the two of you couldn't wait to tear into one 'nother and go for blood.”

  “That is not an inaccurate summation,�
�� Brick nodded slowly. “It would in fact not be exaggerating to say he is quite possibly my greatest enemy,” his voice was almost a whisper.

  “And how in the hell would that have happened?”

  ***

  “A bouncer?” Xavier was almost crying with laughter. “In a strip club! Oh, had I only known that earlier!”

  “Well, that's how I met him,” Clay informed him. “Working for the Old Man as security for a club he owned in Nashville.”

  Xavier's attitude changed abruptly, his laughter dying away as he straightened.

  “He worked for your Old Man?” he asked carefully.

  “Yeah,” Clay nodded. “He ran the club on the floor and my girlfriend managed the business end of it. Old Man carried me up there when I got home. Actually I was going anyway to pick up some freeze-dried foods and Leon decided he wanted to go and offered to pay, so . . . Anyway, Leon owned the place so we could hide the truck inside and there was an apartment upstairs we stayed in for the night. Why?”

  “Oh, Clayton,” Xavier actually sounded as if he pitied Clay. “You need to have a very long talk with your grandfather before I say anything else. And you need to have it somewhere Byron can't hear.”

  “How do you know his name like that anyway?” Clay asked. “I don't know how long it was before I heard of him as anything other than Brick.”

  “After you talk to your grandfather, Clayton,” Xavier was shaking his head. “And do not do it in Byron's hearing. Fair warning.”