by Glen Tate
“No need to be sorry,” John said. “It’s practical. Besides, I never understood $5,000 coffins back when we had $5,000 to waste on such things.”
“Any thoughts on a place for a cemetery?” Grant asked, realizing how serious this whole thing was. With so many people cut off from their medications, like Mrs. Roth, Grant was afraid several people would be dying. Planning a cemetery would force the community to confront that reality.
John thought. “There’s a vacant lot on top of the hill overlooking the water. It’s right off the road leading here, so people could stop and visit graves. I don’t know who owns it, but it’s been vacant for years.”
Grant suggested they could figure that out by using the map with the lot numbers.
“If it’s owned by someone who hasn’t made it out here yet, they just donated the land,” Grant said. Of course, to be the good Patriot role models they were striving to be, Grant would make sure that an owner of the land who could actually be located would be compensated for the land by the community. They could make sure some of the deceased’s property went to the people who owned the cemetery property. Something like that: simple, but fair.
As Grant walked back down to the cabin, he realized that he needed to get to the Grange, but he didn’t want to use all the gas that Mark’s truck would burn. He had walked home from the Grange a few hours ago, been up most of the night, and was coming off a buzz. It wasn’t exactly prime strolling conditions.
When Grant got back to the guard shack, he asked John, “Hey, anyone around here have a bike or something?”
John thought. “Oh, yeah, the Sharpes up on Covington have a couple of mopeds. Their teenage kids ride them around in the summer. Would you like me to introduce you to them?”
“Yep,” Grant said. “I might need to borrow them.”
“Sure,” John said as he motioned for Grant to follow him. Grant, who was wearing his tactical vest and carrying his AR, would not force the Sharpes to give up their mopeds, but he sure hoped they would. A moped was a perfect way for one person to get somewhere using very little gas. Grant thought that he should have got one for his preps. With gas prices going up like they had, moped prices went up, too, since so many people were riding them to save money. Oh well, you can’t prepare for everything. Someone in Pierce Point would hopefully loan the security guys the mopeds they needed. It wasn’t exactly badass to patrol on a moped, but it beat walking.
The sun was fully up by now. It was beautiful. During the walk, Grant noticed deer paths and fruit trees that he usually missed when he drove past them.
They got to the Sharpes’ house, which was up on the hill overlooking near where he had made the CB transmission. A dog barked and a man came out and waved to John. He introduced Grant to Mr. Sharpe (John had forgotten his first name) and Grant explained why he needed the moped.
“Sure,” said Mr. Sharpe. “We have two. My kids like riding them, but I’m not sure where we will get the gas for them now. They go a week or so on a gallon of gas, but even that gallon is hard to come by now. Besides, you guys are protecting us,” Mr. Sharpe said to Grant. “My neighbors said you guys were a SEAL team. Is that true?”
Grant laughed. “No, sir. The only seals I’ve been around were in a zoo, eating fish that a trainer threw at them.” But Grant didn’t want Mr. Sharpe to think they had no security, so he added, “But we know how to use these things,” he said, pointing to his AR slung across his chest.
“Great,” Mr. Sharpe said. He was glad to have well-armed guys around who seemed to be nice. A friend of John’s must be an OK guy.
“Happy to help,” Mr. Sharpe said. “My oldest boy is eighteen. He’s driving me crazy just sitting around like he is. Can you guys put his lazy ass to work?”
“You bet,” Grant said. “Have him come up to the Grange today and we’ll get him a job.” They talked about the skills his son had, which weren’t too many, but he knew guns, so it looked they had found a new guard for the gate. John assured Grant that the eighteen year-old Sharpe boy was a good kid.
Mr. Sharpe went into the house and brought back two helmets and two keys. “There’s probably a half tank in each. You know how to use one of these?” Grant had ridden one in college.
After showing Grant all the controls, which weren’t many, Mr. Sharpe said, “Hey, John, you can ride the second one to wherever you need to go. They’re yours. When things get back to normal, I’d like them back, and please repair them if you break them.”
“No problem,” Grant said. This would be the first donation for Drew to record in his records. “A guy named Drew will be coming by sometime, not sure when, to record your donations here. We’re keeping track of who’s contributing to the community. Thanks again.”
Recording contributions seemed like a good idea to Mr. Sharpe. It made sense to give people credit for what they’re doing, like he was by donating the mopeds.
Mr. Sharpe waved and went back in the house. John and Grant put the helmets on and got on the mopeds to head back home.
As they came down Over Road toward the guard shack, Chip gave them the thumbs up and smiled at the mopeds. The noise of the little engines brought the Team out of the yellow cabin. They were smiling, too. Their transportation problem had just been solved.
Most people were already eating breakfast by the time Grant and John got back to the cabin. Breakfast was oatmeal or pancakes. Grant chose oatmeal and added hot cocoa mix to it, a combination Grant learned in Civil Air Patrol that they called “chocolatey-oat goodness.” Grant liked pancakes better but, by choosing oatmeal, he was stretching their limited amount of pancake mix some more. Eileen had been thinking the same thing about the pancake mix and asked Grant if she should start using the biscuit mix in the morning to make biscuits.
“One of Mary Anne’s friends is a bee keeper and offered us honey,” Eileen said. “That would be great on biscuits.” Grant’s mouth literally started watering at the thought of real honey on biscuits.
Tammy was at Grant’s cabin for breakfast and updated everyone on what was happening at the power company. She had to leave soon to get to work, but said, “The director said some federal people came by and told him that we might need to consider cutting off utilities to various places. It almost sounded like the shut offs were political because the feds said the FCorps would be telling us specifically who to shut off.” Everyone was shocked. They hadn’t prepared themselves for the loss of electricity. In fact, they’d got pretty used to having it as the one stable luxury during this entire catastrophe.
“My boss,” Tammy continued, “said that he wouldn’t shut off anyone, not now, and not with everything that people are dealing with. The Feds left. My boss told us not to shut off anyone, not even if they hadn’t paid their bills. Which is funny because no one is paying their bills.”
Tammy, who had heard about the mopeds during breakfast, turned to Grant and said, “Guess who has a full tank of gas, courtesy of the power company? If you have a hose, I have the gas for the mopeds.” Tammy could also get diesel by driving to work in Mark’s truck, which ran on diesel, and filling it up every week, or so.
John said, “I can siphon off some. I have some gas cans to put it in. Just so everyone knows, these cans are reserved for moped gas, OK?” Everyone was fine with that.
It was time for the Team to go up to the Grange for the day. They went to the yellow cabin to get into their gear and kit up, which included their tactical vests with ammunition magazines, a Camelbak water bladder on their backs, a small trauma first aid kit, a flashlight, extra batteries, and miscellaneous things, like gloves, sunscreen, and a shemagh, which was a Middle Eastern scarf that had multiple uses.
Chip, who had also been up most of the night, would stay behind and take a nap. So would Grant, who was feeling his age after staying up all night and walking a few miles with guns, ammo and a good buzz. A nap would freshen him up.
Manda was overseeing Cole and Missy in the after-breakfast cleanup. After that, they were goin
g to the “Pirate Cave,” which was a little cove in the bank along the beach. Then it was sweeping the decks of the houses and cabin and seeing if Drew needed any errands run. At Pierce Point, “errands” meant walking a piece of paper to a neighbor’s house or going over to someone’s house and telling them something. The kids would also pick up pinecones and put them in garbage bags for winter fuel. It took them about twice as long to do things as it took adults, but that was fine. They were occupying themselves and getting some things done, which made them feel helpful.
Although the kids were useful to the adults in their new roles, they also couldn’t let education go by the wayside. Mary Anne, the retired teacher, had been thinking about this and had planned to attend the Grange meeting to ask if the community wanted to start up a school in the fall, but Mrs. Roth’s death had interrupted that.
After Lisa was ready to go to “work,” Pow came over with his kit on. They were ready to go, so they piled into Mark’s truck. They waited a minute or two and then Lisa got into the cab. Grant felt that there was something so civilizing about letting a lady ride up front.
As they were pulling out, Pow looked at the guys in the back of the truck and said, “Beats the shit out of selling insurance.”
They went up to the Grange where Lisa met up with her medical team and they started going over how to turn two rooms of the Grange into a medical clinic. They kept saying, “What we really need is some…” The list of things they needed was long.
Cindy, the former renal nurse who knew all the nurses and others at the Frederickson Hospital, decided that they needed to go on a run into town to get medical supplies. She talked to Rich about how to do that safely.
The day’s plan for the Team was for them to patrol the areas around the Grange first. This would get the Team out to meet people. Ryan would come with them; he was a local guy who the residents would probably know.
Ryan was starting to fit into the Team. He was a combat vet and his skills could be used on the SWAT part of the community’s security force. More than his experience, though, was the fact that he was a quiet and calm professional. He wasn’t a gung-ho brute; he was a sheepdog, like all the other guys on the Team.
Rich realized that he would need Drew, who was back at his cabin, to go out with the Team to take down information on each lot number. Grant wasn’t at the Grange, either. They would need both of them. And Chip wasn’t there, either.
“Grant and Chip are taking a nap,” Scotty told Rich. “They did guard duty last night.”
“At the gate?” Rich asked. He knew who was on guard duty at the gate and it wasn’t them.
“Nope,” Scotty said. “At our guard shack on Over Road.”
Rich took that as a sign that things weren’t totally secure in Pierce Point. He wondered how many others had internal guard stations. That would be Rich’s goal: make things so safe that people didn’t need their own guards. Everyone, or mostly everyone, was armed in their homes, so that would stop lots of crime.
Rich could see that Ryan and the Team were fusing. He pulled Ryan aside and asked if Ryan wanted to work with the Team.
“Sure,” Ryan said. “They’re good guys. They don’t have my level of skills, but I don’t think they’ll get me killed.” Plus, Ryan really wanted to do the “door bustin’” work and it looked like the Team would be doing that, so he wanted to be with them. Guarding the gate bored him.
“You don’t have an AR, do you?” Rich asked. “I haven’t seen you with one and I would imagine now is the time to carry one if you had one.”
“Nope, no AR,” Ryan answered. He pointed to his pistol belt. “Got my Beretta, just like the one I had in the Corps.” Ryan had a 92F in 9mm.
Rich motioned for Pow to come over. “Hey, Pow, what if Ryan worked with the Team?”
“Sure.” Pow said. “Great idea.” Pow liked having a combat-experienced Marine along. Ryan would bring up their skill level and offer some great training. And he seemed like a good guy.
“Sounds good to me,” said Ryan.
“Ryan needs an AR. You got any extras?” Rich asked.
“Yep. Each of us has an extra AR or AK,” Pow said with a smile. “Which you like; AR or AK?”
“AR,” Ryan said. “AKs are for the people who used to be trying to kill me. Kinda puts a bad taste in your mouth.”
“OK, I have an AR for you,” Pow said. “I probably have some odds and ends to set you up with kit. I’ll hook you up when we get back to the yellow cabin at the end of the day.”
“Thanks, man,” Ryan said.
Rich pulled the Team, which now included Ryan, together and described how they would go down the road in front of the Grange and start meeting people in each house. Just to introduce themselves and let people know that they could call on them. Grant and Drew, once they got there, would come with them and take down information on each house. They’d find out how many people lived there, their names, any special needs, like medical conditions, whether they had a CB or other radio, and whether they had any equipment that might be useful to the community, like the mopeds. The Team would also ask if the homeowner had enough food, but wouldn’t pry and ask how much food they had.
“Don’t push the equipment or especially food topics,” Rich said. “I don’t want to spook people into thinking that we’re getting a shopping list together for us to loot.” He was glad Grant would be along, because Grant seemed to be a master at this kind of person-to-person level of politics. And he was the brains behind the idea of using the lot numbers as a census and inventory.
Rich noticed that “his” people like Dan were blending together easily with the Team into one working group. Rich was giving instructions to the Team, the Team had blended Ryan in, and Grant would be carrying out Rich’s plan, which was based on Grant’s idea about the lot numbers. They were working together seamlessly, after only a few days. Rich was so glad Grant and his friends had come to Pierce Point. They, in turn, were glad Rich was out here, too.
Ryan went off with the Team and showed them some infantry moves. The Team had been introduced to these basic movements by Special Forces Ted, but had gotten rusty on them.
The Team’s tactical training was more geared at SWAT things. In their training, which had been on a short-distance civilian gun range, bad guys were at short ranges; typically a room away or one house away. While most of the Team was oriented toward short-range SWAT purposes, Pow was an amazing sniper, and could provide long-range fire with his .308 bolt gun. Grant had no idea how he trained himself. Maybe he got some one-on-one training at a long-distance range from Special Forces Ted.
Ryan’s military training was different than the Team’s. His was trained for bad guys being hundreds of yards out. He was also trained to have tools like grenades, machine guns, and even artillery and air support. They didn’t have any of that in Pierce Point, but between Ryan’s military training and the Team’s tactical law enforcement skills, they were a hell of a force. At least, against meth addicts and untrained gangs. Ryan knew what would happen if they went up against a real military unit.
After about two hours of leisurely paced training, they heard the whine of mopeds. It was Grant and Drew. Chip hadn’t come; he had the day off after a night of guard duty and was sleeping.
Rich used the CB to tell Grant to bring Drew and what they would be doing. Drew had never ridden a moped. Life during the Collapse was full of new experiences for everyone. Drew picked up quickly on moped riding but was a little scared, though he tried not to show it. He was the old accountant guy; he would be patrolling around with the Team today. He didn’t want to emphasize to the young guys that he was old and not exactly a gun fighter. He was honored to be asked out into the field with these guys. He “forgot” to tell Eileen that he would be patrolling with well-armed men. She would deal with it when she found out. Welcome to life after the Collapse. That meant your mild mannered accountant husband might be patrolling with an amateur SWAT team. This was the “new normal.”
&n
bsp; Rich was carrying out Grant’s idea for the lot number project and realized they needed a name for it. It would be a “census.” That sounded harmless and it reinforced the idea that Rich and the volunteers out there were…well, governing. “Governing” in the sense of solving community-wide problems with people who voluntarily wanted them to solve them; not the old kind of “government” which stole just about everything and bossed people around.
A man on a bike rode up to the Grange. He was in his fifties with graying and thinning hair. He didn’t have a pistol, which looked a little weird.
“Oh, hey, it’s Pete.” Rich yelled, “Over here, Pete,” and the man came over to them. Rich introduced everyone. “This is Pastor Pete,” Rich said. “He has agreed to do Mrs. Roth’s funeral.” They all shook hands.
Rich and Pastor Pete talked about the funeral service at the Grange. Pastor Pete seemed a little apprehensive, not about using the Grange, but about doing the service. “I’m not really an ordained minister, or anything,” he told Rich. Pete had studied theology on his own. He knew a lot about it, but had no formal training.
“That’s OK,” Rich said. “You’re our clergy out here.” This was another part of the “new normal” after the Collapse: people with no formal training were doing lots of jobs they technically weren’t qualified to do according to the pre-Collapse laws. But, most were doing a great job, despite the lack of credentials, which made everyone realize that pre-Collapse America required too many formal qualifications to do simple things. It made sense to have qualifications to do heart surgery—but to cut hair? The Collapse was the “do it yourself” era again in America. Like it had been up until the past fifty or sixty years.
“Hey, you want to start church services here on Sundays?” Rich asked Pete. Rich hadn’t been to church in years, but with all that was going on, wanted to get back to it, as long as it wasn’t preachy church. He knew Pete wouldn’t be like that.
