by D A Carey
“Why?”
“The professor has a sadistic streak. If you show a mean streak too, he’ll warm up to you. If you don’t, he’ll become suspicious. That’s the culture here. I don’t know why I’m telling you this; I’m taking a risk in doing so. Go join your family and get your food. I’ll find you in the garage in an hour or two. I’ll have the paper and pen you need and a couple of other guards to go through the garages so you can make your rules and roster.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“And do me a favor. Don’t get too friendly around the other guards. We’re going to have to kick some people around in there, and if you make me look bad, I’ll have to knock you around a bit too. Fair warning.”
“Got it.”
<< Cindy >>
When Luke returned to their parking spot later in the night, his face was ashen. He’d seen a lot of violence and despair. Sergeant Penders had turned into someone he didn’t know as they’d gone through parking garages. Luke saw hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people living in squalor. While they didn’t yet have the emaciated appearance of war-torn countries, it was obvious they weren’t bathing or eating enough, most were confused, and many depressed.
The other guards with them walked into the living spots as outlined by the parking lines, shoved people around, and went through their belongings. Sometimes they would fondle a wife or daughter right in front of the husband or father as if daring him to react. These people knew that a response would earn them a beating or a chance at being shot. Sergeant Penders went right along with them and was rougher with the men than the others. Luke noticed he didn’t abuse the women much. Once when Luke opened his mouth to say something, Sergeant Penders gave him an imperceptible shake of the head.
“What did you do?” Cindy asked, angered and horrified. If those men could do that to others, they could do it to her and her daughter.
“This place is like some government-run ghetto with wardens,” Luke answered. “If I want to get some semblance of power, I need to come across like them. I pushed and shoved some, yes. I hate myself for doing it, and at the same time I’d hate myself more for not doing anything I could to ensure that you don’t get subjected to what those women did.”
“I love you.”
“That wasn’t the worst. There is another thing I can’t get out of my head.”
“What could be worse?”
“The kids. They had groups of kids becoming bullies and carrying out directions from the guards. A lot of it was just for the guards’ amusement, like getting the older kids to beat a grown man who couldn’t fight back while they watched.”
“That’s terrible.”
“It gets worse. When we were out of earshot of other parkers, the kids would come tell the guards secrets for chits.”
“What were they telling? And what’s a chit?”
“They’re using old casino chips as chits, rewards for doing something they want. Chits can be exchanged for candy or a smoke, or if you have enough, some time in the comfort room.”
“What’s the comfort room?”
“I’ll tell you later. This whole bully and reward system is like some Machiavellian behavior modification program. I hate what it’s doing to these kids. I saw some inform on their own friends and family just to get chits. The guards are talking about assigning them ranks within their own gangs and giving them bigger things to do.”
“That’s chilling.”
Luke and Cindy held each other close and sat for a few minutes while the children slept near them.
“What’s going to happen to us?” Cindy asked.
“I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you all safe, even if that means being a bit of a bully to other men. In the meantime, we’ll move to a better living spot tomorrow. They told me I could kick out anyone who had a spot I wanted. I had planned to only choose from the empty spots. Now I believe this will be a good opportunity to prove I can be as much of a bastard as them. I’ll find two spots in a corner that have walls and enough ventilation to see out and get some air circulation. We need to think about a spot for a small stove or fire, too.”
“Surely we’ll be out of here before it gets that cold.”
“I don’t know, hon. It doesn’t look good. It’s like Vince used to say…it’s better to plan for the worst and hope for the best. Tomorrow I’m going to find some shipping pallets and cardboard so we can get the kids off of this concrete floor. If I shimmy the pallets to level them and we cover the pallets with enough cardboard and blankets and hang some sheets up, we can make a cozy spot here.”
“I trust you. Those are good ideas.”
“They aren’t all mine. I saw it in a lot of the parking spots as we were rousting people today,” Luke said grimly.
“Remember, we’re in this together. These kids are our number one concern. You and I both will do whatever we have to for them and to keep them fed and safe.”
Cindy’s level of intensity with her last statement took Luke aback for a moment.
<< The Professor >>
The professor finished reviewing the pages Luke had written up during the tour through the garages and cleaned up after.
“Thank you, Sergeant Penders and, umm…?”
“Luke Whitner, sir.”
“Luke, this is good. We can keep people protected and centralized and maximize our forces. Additionally, I like that it gives us a way to evaluate these ‘floor coordinators,’ as you call them, to see who can take on more important roles in the camp.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sergeant Penders, how did Luke respond with the other parkers?”
“He fit right in, sir. Took charge and kicked some ass. He may not have won many friends among the parkers, but he did what needed to be done.”
“Good, good. Like, I have some other tasks for you later if you’re up for it.”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“Okay, on to other business. Sergeant Penders, I need you to find me a diesel generator maintenance man. If you can’t find one from among the parkers, instruct the roving DHS units to find one.”
“Yes, sir.”
“These generators are running a little odd, and our people don’t know any more than how to add fuel. As you know, we only need to run them a few hours a day. They are critical for the elevators to keep spotters and radio equipment on the roof and some of the more critical supplies stored on the higher floors and refrigeration for the food and wine.”
Walking back to the garage, Sergeant Penders filled Luke in about the logistics of the FEMA camp. In this part of the country, FEMA and DHS were moving equipment and supplies via river barges, which were cheap and easy to protect. When the barges came, they had a lot of diesel fuel for the huge hotel generators, food for the parkers, comforts for the leadership, as well as DHS troop changes, weapons, and ammunition. There were faster ways of travel, but the barges were safe, comfortable, and cheap to operate. It was easy to add a hotel barge to the string if they were moving certain people.
While Sergeant Penders didn’t know what was going on in other parts of the country, he’d been told by the men from the barges that they supplied cities such as Pittsburg, Cincinnati, Louisville, and sometimes St. Louis. They’d also heard there were other routes on the eastern seaboard, Mississippi River, and the Great Lakes. There was talk of moving west up some of the rivers that emptied into the Mississippi River.
By this time, Luke believed he could trust Sergeant Penders enough to ask more about the comfort rooms. He insisted they were all voluntary, if you could call the promise of less food and terrible living conditions for not working in the comfort rooms voluntary. Many of these women were hungry and without options. The same held true for a few of the young men. Some of the other FEMA leaders had a penchant for that type of thing. Luke was more and more convinced these people were masters at intimidation and control; however, that was a thought he dared not shared with Sergeant Penders.
For the people who weren’t required f
or the comfort room, there were a hundred other tasks that needed doing to keep a camp running. There was laundry, food preparation, and maid service work. The professor even planned to grow gardens on top of the towers and garages. While gardening was easy, climbing thirty floors of steps to get there wasn’t. They wouldn’t waste valuable fuel and generator time on garden workers and parkers.
Sergeant Penders shared that the basement held detainee cells. Some were occupied by simple looters, others by subversives. As far as Luke could tell, the “subversives” were preppers or people of opposing political views or those who opposed the professor’s management style.
“What will they do with those people?” Luke asked.
“Some won’t ever see the light of day. A few might be shipped off with the barges for questioning elsewhere. Most will work hard labor.”
“What kind of hard labor?”
“The professor has an idea to knock down unneeded buildings around the Galt House and garages to create a kill zone in case we are attacked.”
“Does he actually think we will be attacked?”
“Probably not by anything more than hungry citizens. He has to keep the dissidents too tired to cause problems and in fear of his wrath. This accomplishes both.”
“How can they knock down huge buildings without explosives and heavy equipment?”
“Very slowly. It doesn’t matter, though. This is more about keeping the men busy and worn out until they’re done.”
“Done? How many buildings do they have to knock down?”
“Not until the buildings are done, Luke, until the men are done.”
That last comment gave Luke pause.
“The plan is to march the men up the stairs to the top floor with acetylene torches and sledgehammers to cut and knock until debris falls on the streets below. That debris will be used for defensive barriers and to extend a jetty into the river for the barges.”
“So this is a long term operation.”
“Yes. I thought you saw that, and that’s why you made yourself useful.”
“I guess I did. It’s only that the immensity of it all is overwhelming. Don’t they worry that a lot of men will get hurt or killed?”
“That’s the plan. They’re supposed to be so worn out that they can’t plot against the professor, and if an accident happens, no one can claim we set up execution squads. It’s sure a damn good deterrent for not going along with the professor’s plans.”
“Is he the top guy?”
“I don’t think so, but I couldn’t tell you who is. There are more big wigs up in their rooms eating, drinking, and whoring like some Roman orgy. The professor is the only one with enough of a sadistic, narcissistic streak to command the peons, and he is rapidly moving up and taking control. I know that they get direction from back east, and occasionally one of the higher ups stops in here for an inspection. In any event, the professor has plenty of power and ambition. It doesn’t matter whether you want to move up in this camp or avoid him, it’s best to keep that in mind.”
Trust is Earned
“Difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. The human spirit is to grow strong by conflict.”
- William Ellery
<< Christy >>
“Do you think Vince is in on it with Big Jim?” Mary asked. “Do we dare trust him?”
“Let’s keep an eye out for a while and see what happens. Perhaps we can try talking to Liz as if we’re starstruck. It’s a risk, yet one I feel that we need to take.”
“What about the other lady with Liz? She looks okay.”
“Yes, but she rarely comes out of her room and looks shook up. I would be scared to trust her not to say anything.”
Mary and Christy took turns trying to get close to Vince and Liz. However, Big Jim’s group of loyalists kept running interference between them and anyone they didn’t completely trust. Seeing an old Ford Bronco being loaded with supplies convinced Christy she didn’t have much time.
She walked up bold as you please and said, “Vince, my name is Christy Kerr, and this is my wife Mary Cahill. I’ve met your uncle and am a big fan. I’ll cut right to the heart of it. We want to head east with you. I know it will be tight, but please allow us to go with you on this trip.”
Big Jim stepped between them. “There’s no need for that. The Bronco is full. They’ve already got four people in it. We take care of our own here. Christy, you know we’ll help you and Mary here with anything you need. I didn’t know you weren’t happy here.”
“It’s not that at all,” Christy said. “Everyone has been great. It’s that Mary has family back east, and we’re terribly worried about them.”
“Then we will find another way for you,” Jim said a little testily.
Christy turned back to Vince. “Please. It’s crucially important. We’ll scrunch over and take up very little room. Mary is going mad with worry. We can’t possible wait another day and don’t want to deprive Big Jim of another vehicle.”
Liz stepped in before Jim could reply. Something about Christy reminded her of Carol. “Vince, please let’s take them,” she said. “I want to help someone for a change.” Liz had seen Christy and Mary looking at her the day before from a distance, talking in hushed tones between each other. She was used to being noticed, but this was different. It was obvious to Liz that something was wrong and these ladies needed her help.
Vince cut his eyes to Big Jim. “It’s settled then. We only have to move some supplies to the roof rack to make space.”
<< Vince >>
Leaving Turk-Town, Vince chose to take Highway 16 to Highway 46 and stay north of San Antonio.
Christy and Mary were curiously silent. The few times Liz tried to engage them in conversation, they merely exchanged small talk, and Christy said, “Let’s focus on putting some miles behind us.”
A few miles before reaching the town of Boerne, Texas, they saw a mid-eighties Ford truck parked alongside the road and a man in boots, jeans, a uniform shirt, and cowboy hat standing beside the truck, waving them down. Vince stopped about half a mile back and asked Junior to step out with his rifle and cover him as he approached the man. When Vince got within a few feet of the man, he said, “Can I help you?”
“Yes, sir. I’d like to go with you heading east.”
“I’m sorry, we aren’t headed east. We’re only going a few miles to stay with friends. I have a couple of armed men back in the truck, and we don’t have room for passengers,” Vince lied.
“No. You’re Vince Cavanaugh and you’re headed east with Liz Pendleton, a couple others from your group, and two refugees from the Turk-Town camp back on Medina Lake.”
“How do you…?” Vince eased into position to go for his hidden gun.
“Now hang on.” The stranger raised his hands in the surrender gesture. “I told you all that to let you know I’m on the level and cut to the chase.”
“Keep talking.”
“I’m one of three security men your uncle and Levi Goldman sent down here from Colorado. I know you’ll want to verify a few things before you believe me, but trust me when I say you aren’t safe and that men are trailing you and trying to find me as well. If I can follow you until we make some distance and camp, then you can test me all you want or tie me up or whatever you’ve a mind to.”
Vince trusted his judgment, and this man appeared to be on the level. Moreover, what he proposed didn’t put his people at much more risk than they already were. Vince only paused a moment before responding, “Get in your truck and follow us. If you get any closer than a mile back, we’ll shoot. If you have a problem, flash your lights.” Then Vince turned and walked back to his truck without even waiting to see if the stranger responded.
They made good progress after that. True to his word, the stranger stuck behind them almost exactly one mile. While sometimes that meant they lost sight of him, Vince was always careful to allow him to catch up when he took a curve or made a turn.
The route planned for them by Cly
de and Big Jim was to head toward New Braunfels on Highway 46 and circumvent the heart of the city by taking 337 to E Common Street, which later became Highway 1102 or Hunter Road. Highway 1102 was a good route because it was a smaller road that ran parallel to I-35, which would attract more predators. The risk would come when they approached San Marcos and Texas State University. Instead, Vince made a gut choice to head north on Highway 281 before getting close to New Braunfels. At Hamilton, they turned east on Highway 22. As dusk was approaching, Vince found a wooded spot for camp and pulled over.
The stranger stopped his truck a hundred yards back on the road. Vince walked back to the stranger’s truck, the safety strap undone on his drop leg holster, leaving the Glock within easy access to his right hand. He opened the passenger side door, got in, and instructed the stranger to pull the truck into a covered spot near the Bronco, yet not too close.
“Okay, go ahead and talk,” he instructed.
“My name is Gary Canfield. Me and two other men were sent down from Colorado by your uncle to establish a security presence here. I actually trained under Levi in Colorado. Before that, I was an Army Ranger.”
“Did you know Levi in the Rangers?” Vince asked.
“Levi was Israeli Special Forces, even though he’s from New York. Everyone knows you and he get along well, so I expect you’re only testing me, which is fine. However, if you let me finish telling my story, it might go faster.”
Vince nodded. “Go on.”
“It was me that inspected the Faraday cage when we stored the radio and satellite equipment that they now say doesn’t work. They’ve been doing some suspect things around here that I don’t think your uncle would approve of, so the ruined radios kind of come in handy. They have a cathouse and have been giving exempt status to ranch workers who are little more than indentured servants and to ladies working their cathouse. Clyde says this is all voted on legally through the charter process. It looked sketchy to me.”
