by John Grit
She tilted her head inquisitively. “Such as?”
“In ancient times, ground copper mixed with water to make a paste was used as an antibiotic. It was applied to the wound.”
“Oh.” She reacted in a way that told Nate she had already dismissed his suggestion. “I remember reading about that early in my training. I don’t think anyone has used that method in hundreds of years. It certainly was not taken seriously in class. There are many old remedies that even under these conditions I would consider malpractice.”
Nate shrugged. “If I had an infected wound, I would try it in a heartbeat.”
“Yes. Well, desperate people do desperate things.” Though a tall woman, she had to look up as she talked to him.
“Honey is another natural antibiotic. We were taught that stuff in the army.”
“To use in a survival situation,” she added.
“And what would you call this?”
“Hell on earth,” she answered, “if my clinic is filled with wounded tonight. Wounded we can do little for. Have you watched people die, people you cannot help?”
“Like everyone here, I’ve lost loved ones in the plague. I have also lost many friends to violence in the last year.”
Brian and Kendell came back with a shopping cart loaded with pharmaceuticals. Doctor Brant eagerly dug into the boxes. Her eyes devoured the labels. Her forehead wrinkled. “Well, desperate times…”
“If someone is dying, it is certainly worth the risk of using this old stuff,” Nate said.
Doctor Brant put a box back in the cart. “I certainly do thank you for your effort. Many items here have no expiration date and will be a great help. The syringes for example. I will get this to the clinic right away.”
Nate turned the cart around for her. “Have you used a week solution of carbolic acid on open wounds? I’m sure you have read about doctors of the past using a weak acid solution to clean the wounds and their hands. One pioneering doctor even kept a mist of weak acid sprayed continuously in the air of the operating room to help prevent infections.”
She appraised him with a renewed respect. “Yes of course we doctors have studied the pioneers of medicine and know of such primitive methods. They did work well enough to reduce deaths from infection by a great degree. Did they teach you all that in the military?”
“No. I read it somewhere.”
Chesty nodded to a man standing nearby. “Help Doctor Brant get this cart to the clinic. Then give them any help you can. Stay there all night and protect the clinic. Find someone to go with you.”
The man grabbed the cart. “I will take my son with me.”
“Fine,” Chesty said.
Nate spoke to Brian and Kendell. “Go get the shopping cart with the guns and ammo in it.” The two jogged up the aisle and disappeared out the door. Nate spoke to Ramiro. “I would like some of the .308 ammo I gave your men back. I will exchange it for the ammo we found in the back office.”
“What is the purpose?” Ramiro asked.
Nate moved to a table against the wall and took his pack off. “I know where my rounds shoot. I have no idea where the rounds in that shopping cart shoot in relation to my sight settings. At long range, that can make a fatal difference. I would rather be shooting my own ammo and hitting what I shoot at.”
Ramiro’s face broadened with a smile. “I see.” He called his men forward and told them to give back Nate’s ammunition. They were confused at first until Ramiro explained.
When Brian and Kendell brought the shopping cart in, the men dug into the ammunition.
“Do any of your people need the guns and ammunition in this cart?” Nate asked Chesty.
“Many are unarmed and many who are armed are low on ammunition.” Chesty squeezed himself between two of Ramiro’s men and dug into the shopping cart.
Ramiro raised a brow and gave Nate a questioning look.
“Wait until Ramiro’s men have taken what they need,” Nate said.
Chesty stepped back. “Sure. My wife could sure use a box of .38s.”
“Take a box,” Nate said. “I doubt many of his men have a need for .38 ammo. I have not seen too many revolvers among them. There probably will be plenty left after everyone gets a box.”
Chesty dove in and grabbed a box of +P hollow points.
Nate stepped close enough to speak low and have a somewhat private conversation with Chesty. “I would guess you have your wife in a safe place tonight.”
Chesty listened and nodded. “As safe as any.”
Nate whispered in Chesty’s ear. “We can stop them before they reach the downtown area. We can kill them before they ever leave their little gang headquarters or at least bloody them so badly that they damn sure will not want to tangle with us again tonight or any other night.”
The crevices on Chesty’s face deepened. “I’m willing to listen to anything you have to say, but you might as well say it to everyone else at the same time. Deputy Samson may be your first ally.”
The deputy had been examining the map for many minutes, while everyone was talking. He looked over his right shoulder. “Chesty, I think your friend there may have the best idea so far. I don’t like looking for trouble, but in this case trouble will be coming to us tonight. I think the best place to ambush them is on the road just far enough away from their hangout they can’t hear the gunfire. We wipe out there assault team, then we move in on the warehouse. I’m not thinking we can take it. The price would be too high. What we can do is more damage and maybe put the fear of God in their asses.”
“Now you’re talking.” Atticus grinned and scratched his bald head. “Punks like them can dish it out but they can’t take it. Last night’s crimes against our children prove to me there’s no living in this town as long as those punks are on this side of the county border. Christina deserves justice, and she’s not likely to get it from anyone other than us. How many more girls and women, how many more teenage boys have to suffer and die before we put a permanent stop to it?” His face changed from anger to melancholy. “Billy needed a trip to the woodshed, but he damn sure didn’t need murdering. He was bad, but not in their lowlife class in any way. They had no business killing him. Now it’s time for them to pay their debts on this side of hell, afterwards, it will be the devil’s turn to extract payment.”
Nate looked at the map. “Anyone here know what is across from the entrance to the warehouse parking lot? It looks like woods on the map, but this map is not exactly high quality, and the scale ratio does not allow for any detail.” Nate turned from the map and looked at the faces looking back at him. “We need a topographical chart of that area. Barring that, I need to question anyone who has firsthand knowledge of the warehouse and the surrounding area.”
Tyrone raised his broad shoulders and bent backward to stretch his aching back. “I’ve been there many times before it all went to hell. Used to patrol the area. There’s a little shack that was abandoned years ago just a couple hundred yards west of there. There’s an open farmer’s field behind it and more fields beyond that. So there’s little cover around the shack.” He put his finger on the map, showing Nate, who stepped closer to see. Tyrone stepped out of the light coming in from the stained glass windows. “There’s plenty of cover over there.” He moved his finger a fraction of an inch. “Lots of trees and woods.”
“All along here?” Nate ran his finger along the side of the road on the map a half an inch.
Tyrone nodded. “Yes. Plenty of cover for hundreds of yards.”
“How many acres of woods? I don’t want to find myself in five acres and surrounded by open field. I need ingress and egress.”
“Oh no, man, there are thousands of acres of woods there to hide in, except around the shack.”
Nate gave up on the poor quality map and turned his back to it. “Has there ever been a case of these people setting up booby traps that you know of?”
Tyrone shook his head and frowned. Nate searched the faces around him. No one spoke. Chesty said
, “Oh God, I hope not.” He rubbed the stubble on his face then added, “They have not done anything like that yet.”
Nate looked at his son, as if he were talking to him alone. “We better expect anything, including booby traps.” He directed his attention back to Tyrone. “What about the other side of the road and the perimeter of the warehouse property? I want to set up a sniper hide. Maybe not tonight, but later, if they do not pack up and leave.”
Tyrone’s brow furrowed “You’re putting yourself deep into our troubles. How come? Justice for a girl and boy? To help people you barely know?” He stood with his feet apart and stared at Nate. “How much of what’s in that warehouse do you want?”
“Christ, Tyrone.” Chesty’s voice echoed in the church.
“It’s living in this world that makes me so distrustful.” Tyrone continued to stare at Nate.
“Ramiro’s people do have hungry children at home,” Nate said. “I’m sure they would be grateful for any food you give them.”
Ramiro started to speak, but he caught himself and remained quiet.
Tyrone’s face did not soften. “As long as you ask.”
Nate heaved his massive shoulders and sighed. “We didn’t come here to take. Scavenge yes, but not steal.”
“I can’t see where these people deserve that, Tyrone.” Chesty looked embarrassed.
“The situation is like this,” Tyrone said. “We will run out of food in about six or seven months, unless we take that other warehouse. We’ve been living on short rations, trying to stretch out our food, hoping help from the government would get here before we starve. As a last resort, some of us thought we might try to take the other warehouse from the gang, but we all knew that would be our last, desperate act. So we don’t need outsiders coming in with their own self-serving plans.”
“So you’re thinking what?” Nate did not wait for an answer. “I’m trying to talk you into taking the warehouse so we can get some of the food? Even if that were true, so what? If some of us die taking the warehouse, I think a bag of beans is poor payment.”
“Yes.” Chesty crossed his arms. “I would like for you to spell it out in plain terms so we can get back to planning for tonight. We don’t have much time, so make it short and straight to the point.”
The crowd had been silent, hanging on every word, now several people spoke up. A rising murmur echoed in the church. Atticus broke in. “If you know something we don’t Tyrone, spit it out. We have work to do. There’s killers a coming at us in a few hours.”
Tyrone hooked his thumbs in his belt. “I’m just saying we don’t know these people, yet Nate here has become our chief war counsel all of a sudden.”
Something washed over Nate’s face that chilled those who saw it. Brian whispered in Kendell’s ear. “Look out. My dad’s mad now.”
“What I was offering you is something I don’t appreciate seeing spit on. I was offering to put my life and the life of my son at risk to help you. I really would like to know what the hell you think is more valuable than that. These people, who came to town with me, are nearly every friend I have left. They too, were offering to risk their lives to help you. And you stand there and spit on it as if I’m a used car fraud trying to sell something.” Nate looked around the room and settled his gaze on Ramiro. “I don’t know how you feel or what you’re going to do, but Brian and I will stay in town tonight. They can forget about me helping them take the warehouse or run the gang out of town. We promised Chesty we would be here to lend our rifles. Well, we’re here. But the warehouse is their problem.”
Ramiro nodded. “I agree. We will help to protect the town, but that is all.”
Atticus spit on the church floor. “Well, confound it! We need these people, Tyrone. It ain’t like you to be such an asshole.”
If Tyrone were not too dark already, his face would have turned red. “It just seems too damn pat, them showing up like this. Hell, the National Guard promised us six months ago they would be back in a few months with food and medical supplies.” He looked disgusted. “The Guard never shows up but they do.” He pointed at Ramiro and Nate. “They’re here for the food. They won’t admit it, but that’s what they’re here for. We need the food in that other warehouse to buy us more time. Maybe the Guard will show up tomorrow. Maybe the Guard is never coming back. Then again, they just might come back a week or two after we’re all dead from starvation.” He looked at Nate, nodding slightly, his eyes two ice-cubes. “Sure, we could use their help. But not at the expense of ten percent of the food.”
“And where did you come up with that figure?” Nate asked.
Tyrone swept his eyes around the room. “I see quite a few of your men here. I don’t know how many more people you have back at your farm, but I would bet what you brought with you is only a small fraction of the number of people you left behind. If you help us take the warehouse, it would be no surprise to me if you demand a large part of the food.”
Ramiro kept his eyes on Tyrone as he spoke in Spanish. His men moved toward the door. “We demand nothing from you.” Ramiro spoke to Nate. “We will be with the trucks.”
Kendell looked at Chesty. “You guys just stepped in shit. Because of him,” he pointed at Tyrone, “more of your people will die, and you might not ever get that food now. Ramiro and the others are good people. They and Mr. Williams could have helped you take that warehouse.” He turned and walked out of the church.
Chesty spoke to Nate. “If you’re still going to help us protect our people, we could use you at the park and the golf course. We’ll have all the main roads blocked, and the side roads will be guarded. They’re not likely to get through the park in trucks because of the trees, but they can go in on foot. The golf course is a different matter; they can just drive right across it.”
Nate clenched his jaw and looked at his son. He turned to Chesty and nodded. “Do you have any radios with good batteries? We need to be able to communicate and coordinate our efforts.”
“They’re probably afraid we will steal them,” Brian quipped.
Atticus coughed and looked up at the ceiling.
“We have three working police radios,” Tyrone said. “They’re sheriff department issue.”
“It would be nice if we were able to have one of them to call for help if we need it.” Nate took one last look at the map. Before, he had paid little attention to the area of the golf course and park, since he was not planning on being stationed there. The golf course is wide open. We will need long-range rifles there. Rifles heavy enough to disable pickups. He gripped his M-14.
Chesty rubbed his forehead. “There is no way we can protect everyone, they’re too spread out. The perimeter is too damn big. The line too damn long. There are too few people to keep the perimeter tight. Hell, some families live outside the perimeter, and they won’t abandon their homes.”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Atticus said. “We’ve already been through all that. Tyrone put the kibosh to it. We have to deal with what we have and not what we could’ve had. We don’t have the time to wish in one hand and shit in the other and wind up with nothing but a handful of shit.”
Brian smiled but kept quiet.
“Well,” Chesty said. “We need to send people out one more time and try to get everyone behind the perimeter lines.”
“I will need you at the ambush,” Tyrone said.
Chesty checked his wristwatch. “Yeah well, someone needs to stay here and supervise. If they get by your ambush, there will be nothing between those animals and our people. I want to be here.”
“Okay,” Tyrone said. “But I need to pick the men who come with me. I figure fifty will do it.”
Chesty flinched as if he had just been shot at. “No way we can spare fifty.”
Tyrone threw his head back and closed his eyes. He stayed that way for three seconds. When he opened his eyes he looked at Chesty. “It will be suicide with fewer than twenty.”
“Fine.” Chesty motioned toward the door with his h
ead. “But get going now. You have to go over whatever plan you come up with, with your men and then you’ve got to get the hell out there and get set up.”
Tyrone looked straight ahead when he passed by Nate. “Don’t forget to give Nate one of your radios,” Chesty said.
Tyrone stopped and pulled a radio out of its carrier on his belt. He looked Nate in the eye. “I’ve got a man at the roadblock you passed through when you came into town. If he calls for help on the radio, let Chesty or someone know about it. Send one of your people to sound the alarm if something happens before I get to the other radios I have at home.”
Nate took the radio and turned the volume up just enough he could hear. “I will.”
Tyrone took three steps and stopped again. “Atticus, you coming with me?”
The old man smiled and rubbed the gray stubble on his craggy face. “Why are you asking? You know I’m coming. Might it have something to do with the fact you’ve had your ass on your shoulders today and made the rest of us look bad?”
Tyrone blew a lung full of air out of his broad chest and rolled his eyes. “Are you coming?”
Atticus patted his jacket pockets. “Thanks to our visitors, I have fresh buckshot to pepper the asses of a bunch of lowlifes that need a damn good killing bad. Of course I’m coming. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He took off in a rush, passed Tyrone, and talked over his shoulder. “Stop wasting time let’s get the hell out of here.”
Tyrone stepped up his speed. “You should have taken one of those pumps. That damn double-barrel is obsolete.”
“So am I, Tyrone. So am I.” Atticus disappeared through the door with Tyrone close behind, but his voice could still be heard. “Just call me the obsolete man.” He tried to adapt his impromptu lyrics to an impromptu tune. “Just caaall meee the obsoleeete maaan.”
Several people in the church laughed.
Brian said, “That old guy reminds me of Mr. Shebang.”
“Yep,” Nate said. “People made fun of his last name, but nowhere near as much as he did.”
