by Glen Tate
“Thanks, Wes,” Grant finally said. He wanted everyone to know that he—the guy most troubled by this decision—was OK with Wes’s actions. . “It had to be done.”
“Had to,” Ryan said.
“Yep,” Pow said.
“He tried to turn us in,” Bobby said. Scotty nodded.
“Whadd’ya do with the body?” Grant whispered.
Wes shrugged. “Just left him there.” Wes paused. “Musta been a break in or something. Snelling had nice stuff. Someone probably wanted to steal it, and knew that he wasn’t armed.” Wes smiled at that last part. He had been counting on the fact that Snelling wasn’t armed.
As the Grange appeared, Grant started thinking about how they would explain this to the crowd. Everyone would suspect Grant. He would have to lie to everyone and deny any involvement. Then someone would find out. Grant would be a liar and his credibility would be destroyed, although he hardly cared about his image. He was more concerned about the diminishment of his ability to get things done at Pierce Point.
When they got to the Grange, Grant motioned for Rich and Dan to come over. Grant found Chip, too, and the four of them went out to the parking lot, where Grant broke the news. They all just nodded. It was anti-climactic.
The Team ate dinner together as usual and tried to talk about meaningless things just so people didn’t realize how quiet and serious they were.
The Team Chicks came over and had dinner with the guys, which lightened the mood considerably. Whispers of much sex later that night were exchanged. Wes was hugging Kellie so hard it looked like he might hurt her.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked him.
“Tough day,” Wes said. “That’s all. Things are fine.” Wes looked her up and down with a gleam in his eye and said, “What’cha wearin’ tonight, darlin’?”
She whispered something to him and he smiled.
The meeting that night had all the usual reports. Things were going well; the community was humming along; things were tough but people were pulling together out of necessity. Rich listened to the reports and marveled at how much better off they were than the sheeple in Frederickson.
Grant kept waiting for Snelling’s wife and Abbott to burst into the meeting and accuse him of the killing, but it didn’t happen. The meeting broke up early and everyone went home.
The ride home was a lot more upbeat than the ride there because the guys were talking about the Team Chicks.
Grant had this overwhelming urge to go to Snelling’s house. He realized this was stupid, but he wanted to go to the scene of the crime. He thought others might have a similar urge so he said to them, “Everyone just stay home tonight. We’ll deal with the reaction to this tomorrow.”
Scotty’s ham radio crackled. It was the Chief. He said that a small boat carrying two people had left Pierce Point. The boat left from area right around Snelling’s cabin, going at a high rate of speed and heading toward the inlet into the sound. The Chief tried to catch up with them but had no luck.
“There goes our problem,” Grant said. “Good luck filing a police report. Take a damned number.” He was relieved. Snelling’s wife, and hopefully Abbott, had gotten the message and left.
Grant slept well that night. He had already gone through the mental process of wondering if the police would arrest him, like he had when he shot the looters back in Olympia. From Rich’s description of the FCorps guy being too busy to care about a report of a POI at Pierce Point, there was no way the cops would even try to come here. What cops?
Grant realized how much better Pierce Point would be without those Loyalist whiners. They were the only people getting in the way of making it a completely Patriot community. There were some of Snelling’s friends still out there, but they probably wouldn’t say much now that their leader was…no longer around.
After a restful sleep, Grant woke and got ready for work. He was anxious to find out how the news of the “break in” and sudden departure of Snelling’s wife and Abbott would be received by the community.
The Team assembled in Mark’s truck and went to the Grange. No one said, “This never gets old” or “beats the shit out of selling insurance.” Not this morning.
The Team Chicks stayed behind. Gideon needed the night cabin to sleep in after his guard shift, so the girls who spent the night in the night cabin with their boyfriends went over to the yellow cabin with the other girls.
Wes was the first to speak on the ride to the Grange. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I’m glad I did it. Son of a bitch was trying to get us killed. I’d do it again. I probably will have to.”
This was a relief to everyone. If Wes was OK with what had transpired, then there was no reason they shouldn’t be. And that part about probably having to do it again was important for them to hear. They needed to be mentally prepared for more death and knew this was the first killing of probably many.
Grant said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about Snelling as some kind of tragedy. It isn’t a ‘tragedy.’ The only tragedy is that he was alive in the first place. People like him, those with power, who steal from everyone and then cry about being the victim. We’re doin’ what we have to do, gentlemen. Be proud that you’re steppin’ up. We don’t have to enjoy this. But we have to do it.”
Grant immediately thought of his Grandpa who didn’t want to go to war, but had to. It was Grant’s turn to do nasty things that needed to be done.
The guys nodded. Some smiled. They were stepping up and could be proud about that.
As they pulled into the Grange, they could tell that something was up. The place was abuzz.
“Did you hear? Todd Snelling is dead!” someone yelled.
“His wife and Abbott are gone!” someone else said.
“They were probably having an affair and Abbott shot him,” Rich said. “That happened all the time when I was on the force.” Good one, Rich. Good one.
“She left a note about the Team killing her husband,” another person said.
“Ha!” Dan said. He pointed to the Team and said, “If they wanted someone dead, you’d all know about it. It would be very clear and messy.”
Rich said, “Well, I’ll go out and look at the scene, but a wife and another man fleeing? Pretty sure I’ve seen this before. The wife and Abbott are probably in each other’s arms right now.” Perfect.
The crowd discussed the apparent murder of Snelling by Abbott – or maybe the wife – and their apparent affair.
Grant made arrangements for Snelling to be buried. He talked to Pastor Pete about adding Snelling to the weekly memorial service. Grant felt a little dirty misleading a pastor into thinking he cared about Snelling, but this was war. This was one of the many things he was doing that he didn’t want to.
The rest of the day, Grant worked as usual at the Grange. The Team went out and trained with the Crew at the Richardson House. Things were surprisingly normal. The routine was not disrupted.
At lunch, Lisa sat down next to Grant.
“Pretty shocking about Snelling,” she said.
“Yeah. What have you heard?” Grant asked, which was not a good thing to ask. He worried that he sounded a little defensive.
“I mean his wife killing him and running off with another man,” Lisa said. “Hey, that gives me an idea,” she said with a smile, before biting into her lunch. They ate together, as if discussing Snelling’s death was normal daily chitchat.
Later that day, Grant talked to Rich about renaming the newspaper. “Now that Snelling and his fax machine are no longer a problem, do we really need to change the name?”
“Yes,” Rich said. “I told Winters I was in charge and that it would happen. I want those FCards and that bus, and I don’t want to fight them if I can avoid it.”
“OK,” Grant said. “Changing the name might de-escalate the Patriot thing after Snelling’s murder…at the hands of his wife,” Grant said.
“What should we rename it?” Rich asked.
“How about the ‘Pier
ce Point Truth’?” Grant said. “Same content, different name. The ‘Truth’ is more universal than the ‘Patriot,’ anyway.”
“Sure,” Rich said. “Guess that makes the first and only edition of the ‘Patriot’ a collector’s item.”
Chapter 192
Banging at the Door
(July 14)
“I’ve never, ever been happier,” Kellie gushed to her mom. “He’s so perfect. He’s everything,” she gushed.
Kellie’s mom, Sheila, was so happy for her daughter. Sheila had been worried about Kellie who had seemed so depressed. There was no future for kids anymore. This Crisis, or Collapse, or whatever people called it, meant Kellie would never have it like Sheila did. No college, house, car, or spending money.
Kellie had a boyfriend in Pierce Point, that Ethan kid. Sheila wasn’t impressed by him. He was a typical boy, and Kellie never appeared too interested in him. It seemed more like Kellie wanted to have a boyfriend so she’d have someone to go places with and do things.
Sheila understood why Kellie didn’t seem to take boys too seriously. Kellie’s dad was a drunk and had smacked them both around before he left. Sheila was dreading Kellie discovering boys and bringing home some loser, like her dad.
And then Wes came along. He was a great kid. Well, man. He was on the Team, which the Pierce Point residents took very seriously. He was respected. The Team members were brave young men who protected everyone. They were so polite and always helped people. Sheila remembered the first time she saw Wes. He was helping an older lady carry some heavy bags of rice. It didn’t hurt that Wes was handsome and had that cute Southern drawl. He was perfect for Kellie.
The few times Kellie brought Wes over, Sheila had been very impressed by how much of a gentleman he was. “Yes, ma’am. No ma’am.” Holding the door open. He was the kind of man Sheila wished she had met years ago instead of Kellie’s dad.
What Kellie didn’t tell her mom, because it was obvious and she didn’t need to, was that sex with Wes was amazing.
“You know what he said, Mom?” Kellie was nearly yelling. “He said he wants to get a place with me! He has to get permission from the Team first because they are trying to stay together all the time to deploy or whatever. A place with me!”
Sheila had never seen her daughter so happy. It was like an announcement of an engagement.
Being Wes’s girlfriend made Kellie a “Team Chick,” which held an enormous social status. Those girls were fabulous. They had become her closest friends. Instead of sitting around worrying about all that was happening, they were taking life by the horns and actively doing what they wanted. Being a Team Chick was an adventure.
“I feel like I can help him by being there,” Kellie said. “I can be there for him. I love that. I love it, Mom. I feel like it’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Sheila realized that her daughter was madly in love. Good. Wes was a great boy. A gentleman. A real catch.
“I’m so happy for you, honey,” Sheila said as she gave Kellie a big mom hug, the kind of hug only a mom can give. They danced around the kitchen for a while.
“See!” Sheila said, crying with joy, “Not everything is horrible. Some things work out, Lil’ Kel-Kel,” which was what Sheila had called Kellie since she was a little girl.
Then someone knocked at the door. Assuming it was Wes, Kellie ran to the door. She stopped in her tracks and ran back toward her mom.
It was Ethan. He was furious.
“Let me in!” Ethan screamed. “I need to talk to you!” Kellie and Sheila were terrified. They froze.
Ethan kept pounding on the door. He sounded crazy and mad. Kellie and Sheila thought he would break the door down.
Sheila ran into her bedroom and got her .38. Kellie ran into the room behind her. She loaded it as quickly as possible. Her fingers felt weird and clumsy, like her hands were cold, but they weren’t. It was the adrenaline. She couldn’t make her hands move, in the one moment that she needed them to. Finally, she got the gun loaded. Sheila locked the bedroom door.
They knew Ethan could easily kick in that flimsy bedroom door and its tiny little lock. They had gone from one of the happiest moments they’d had recently to the scariest, in about five seconds.
The pounding stopped. Ethan yelled, “I know about you and him. I know all about it.” He realized he was crying and felt humiliated. Would he turn that humiliation into action or run away like a wuss?
It was silent after the pounding stopped, and Kellie and Sheila waited in the bedroom for a minute or two. Kellie’s tongue was all tingly and she felt like she was floating a little bit. She felt stronger than ever. She knew she could run faster than ever, but she was terrified, as she sat there waiting for Ethan to break in and for her mom to shoot him, if she could. Maybe her mom would miss. Ethan probably had a gun because he was a guard. He probably had one of those big guns.
Kellie looked at her mom and whispered, “Are we gonna die?”
Sheila mouthed back, “No,” and pointed the gun at the bedroom door.
Another minute or two passed. It was still silent. Maybe Ethan is pouring gasoline on the house, Sheila thought. Maybe he was getting in through the garage. Had she locked that door? Sheila couldn’t remember. Kellie and Sheila were listening for any little creak or tiny sound. They jumped when the refrigerator went on and started humming.
Another minute or two went by; still nothing. If Ethan was breaking in or starting a fire, he sure was doing it quietly. Given how upset he was, and that he was crying, Kellie wondered how he could be so quiet out there. She expected to hear him sobbing, but she didn’t.
Wes would protect them, Kellie thought. Ethan was like Kellie’s dad; all angry and crazy and trying to hurt them. This wasn’t the first time Kellie and her mom had been hiding in a locked bedroom, but this hadn’t happened since Kellie’s dad took off.
This time was different, though. Her mom had a gun. She had purchased it right as everything was going crazy before the Collapse and crime was so high. Kellie was glad her mom had that gun. It made things fair. If a big man was trying to come after you, that little gun made it fair.
Was this too good to be true? Sheila wondered. Maybe Ethan had left. She hadn’t heard him for at least five minutes. If he were out there, he would have made some sound by then.
“I think he left, baby,” Sheila said to Kellie.
“Maybe he is coming back with a gun,” Kellie said, sobbing. She had been holding back the tears because she didn’t want to make any noise, but hearing her mom talk, even at a whisper, released the stifled cry. So the tears came flying out. Kellie couldn’t control her crying. “Maybe,” Kellie said, “he is going to drive his truck through the house. Maybe…”
“Stop,” Sheila said sharply. “You’re making things up. You’re scared. We need to get out of here. He’s not here now. He would have made some noise. If we can hear the refrigerator, we could hear him. He’s not here now, but might be coming back. We gotta go.”
Kellie was terrified of opening the bedroom door; she was safe as long as it was closed. She looked up at it. He could be standing right outside the door and be waiting for them to open it. She was convinced that Ethan was standing outside that door and smiling, silently waiting for them to come out.
“No,” Kellie whispered. “He’s right outside the door. Waiting for us. Probably with a knife from the kitchen.” Kellie thought about what it would feel like to be cut to pieces with a kitchen knife.
“You’re not thinking straight,” Sheila whispered. “He hasn’t made any noise. We have to leave.” Sheila slowly stood up and kept the gun pointed at the door. She needed to lead now. Kellie would follow.
Kellie cringed. “No. He’s outside the door,” she said out loud.
“Shhh,” Sheila said. She was slowly walking toward the door. Kellie was cringing behind the bed.
Sheila put her left hand on the door knob and had her gun in her right hand. She slowly turned the knob.
Ping!
/> Kellie jumped and started screaming.
“It’s just the lock on the door,” Sheila said. That screaming had given away their position, so Sheila might as well talk at a normal volume. Besides, talking normally might reassure Kellie that Ethan was not in the house.
Sheila wanted to show Kellie that Ethan wasn’t outside the door, so she confidently opened the door.
Nothing. No one.
“See,” Sheila said. “Nothing.” Sheila realized that saying that was the jinx in every horror movie. Once a person said that, an axe would come swinging through the air. Then Sheila felt stupid for thinking horror movies were a good predictor of what happened in real life.
She walked through the door, gripping the gun so tight that her hands were hurting. The sweat was making it slippery, but she had a firm grip. A very firm grip.
Sheila started walking slowly through the house, opening every door and slowly peeking in each room. She went around each corner, pointing the gun and exposing as little of herself as possible, like she had seen in the movies. She was amazed at how much she was moving like in the movies.
A rhythm was developing. Pointing the gun around a corner, moving a little bit, swerving around the room and swinging the gun around the whole room in case anything was in it. Looking behind herself and quickly moving to the next room. Doing the same thing, at the same pace, just like in the movies.
Finally, Sheila was in the living room, which was at the other end of the house. The front door that Ethan had been banging was still closed and locked.
Now Sheila had to check the garage. For some reason, she was extra scared and cautious opening the door from the house to the garage. She looked and it was locked. Thank God.
She started to open it slowly so that if he were in the garage, he’d have plenty of warning and would maybe make a noise, so she would know to start shooting through the door.
