by Glen Tate
Tammy started crying. Again. She left the room.
Mark was looking out his window toward the water. It had been days since Paul went missing. Mark would sit there with his binoculars and think he saw Paul several times a day, but no one would go and try to rescue him. He would scream and insist that someone go out and get Paul and bring him back.
He came to believe that there was a plot by the Chief and Grant and the others to make people believe that Paul had been lost, but he was still alive.
At first, people thought Mark had temporarily snapped, which was understandable. But he didn’t come out of it and then it got worse. The details of the “plot” to hide the fact that Paul was alive became more and more bizarre.
Tammy, who had just lost a son, now also had the tragedy of her husband going insane. She had lost her husband too, in a sense. That boating accident had claimed two lives. Tammy was holding it together pretty well, but after days of Mark’s insanity, she couldn’t take it any longer. She and Missy started staying at a friend’s house.
Grant and the others were afraid that Mark would become violent. He hadn’t so far, but if he really believed there was a plot to keep his son from him, he might try to hurt people. Gideon, whose guard shack was between Mark’s house and the other cabins on Over Road, was told he could shoot Mark if Mark came out of his house with a weapon.
This forced a very difficult decision for the community. Should Mark be committed to the mental ward? He no longer left his house so he was not at the Grange meetings. They decided at one of those meetings to take Mark—forcibly if necessary—and commit him. After taking him, they would have the formality of a commitment trial, but everyone knew the outcome.
The decision was made to have the Team take Mark in. They didn’t want to do it; Mark was their friend, but they knew that it had to be done. One day, the Team went over to Mark’s house to give him an “update” on the search for Paul. (The search had long been abandoned.) When they got in, Wes and Ryan charged toward Mark at full speed and knocked him to the ground. The other guys fought the kicks and punches and, after accidently breaking Mark’s arm, put some zip ties on his arms and legs. They let him scream and flail around for about forty-five minutes until he tired himself out. It was horrible to watch a good man be hog tied and scream like a lunatic. Mark kept screaming for Paul to come and help him. It was the worst forty-five minutes the Team had experienced in their lives; far worse than the raid on the meth house. This was just watching the punishment of a damaged man who used to be such a wonderful person.
When Mark finally stopped flailing, Tim gave him a shot, which put him out. They took Mark to the mental ward. While he was still out, Lisa set his arm in a splint and put on a makeshift cast. It was a minor fracture. That afternoon, Grant held a five-minute trial. They empanelled a jury and Bobby described what had happened earlier that day, which was enough evidence. Mark would be committed. He would get regular medical care, but they had no mental illness medications for him; not that he actually had a mental illness. Mark would either snap out of this or would be insane for the rest of his life. It was unbelievably sad. A second life essentially lost from the accident.
There was a third life lost too: Missy. She had lost her dad, Paul, and now her grandpa. She thought her grandpa was mad at her for her dad being gone. She assumed that must be why grandpa was always yelling and screaming.
Missy quit talking. She would sit by herself for hours. She had shut down. She quit eating. Tammy had to force her to eat. One time, in total desperation, Tammy pinned Missy down and tried to shove food down her throat. That’s when Tammy knew this wasn’t working. Her little granddaughter might starve herself to death.
A fourth victim was Tammy. She was handling the tragedy better than Mark, but that wasn’t saying much. She busied herself with all she needed to do for Mark and Missy, and at her job, which she still was doing. She visited Mark, as horribly difficult as that was. She would spend all the time she could with the silent Missy, which was also horrible.
Cole started coming over to see Missy. He could tell that she was sad and would just hang around with her. He wouldn’t talk to her and she wouldn’t talk to him; they would just be in the same room together for hours without talking. They could think their own thoughts and not be bothered.
Cole helped Missy. He would occasionally break his silence and tell her when it was time to eat. She would eat with him. He started calling Missy “Lil’ Sissy.” After Cole got Missy eating on a regular basis, he would roll a ball to her. She would roll it back. Then they’d roll it back and forth. Cole would ask Missy to play, which she would, though not always. Sometimes she just wanted to sit there silently all day, which was OK with Cole. He didn’t mind the quiet.
It didn’t take very long for Cole and Missy to become like brother and sister. They had their own language worked out. No one else could understand them, but they understood each other. Grant would hug Cole every time he found out how much Cole was helping Missy and say, “You’re a good, good boy, Cole.” Cole would say, “I know, Dad. I want Lil’ Sissy to be happy. She’s my friend.”
Tammy would cry every time she saw how Cole was helping Missy. They would be tears of happiness. Her wonderful little granddaughter might not be lost forever. An autistic boy may have saved her.
Cole was doing even better now that he knew he was helping Missy and that no one else could. He had an important purpose. He was needed. He wasn’t the “kid who didn’t talk much” who needed help himself. He was helping someone else. Cole’s confidence and comfort with himself went way up. He realized that he was different than other people because of his talking. But he also had a skill no one else had. He was the only one who could help Missy.
Cole was very proud of himself. All the grownups told him what a great job he was doing. He would talk at dinner about what he and “Lil’ Sissy” did that day. It was unheard of for Cole to talk about his day at the dinner table. Not anymore.
Paul’s death and Cole helping Missy was a good example of how things were during the Collapse. It was ninety-nine percent horrible, and one percent good, but the one percent good made up for a lot of the ninety-nine percent horrible.
Blessed, Grant thought. The people of Pierce Point were blessed to have each other around. All those people out there—many of whom, like Cole, were the weak and needed help themselves—were helping each other. They would survive this nightmare by the blessings of having each other.
Chapter 236
“Lt. Matson”
(November 30)
Tony Atkins was cutting trees down at Marion Farm with a chainsaw. He hadn’t used one of them in quite a while; probably since he was in high school. He was twenty-six years old with black hair and a thin build. He had his whole life ahead of him.
Tony had been a computer technician for the cable company in Olympia until about a year ago when people quit paying their cable bills and he got laid off.
Tony was a “gun guy” and had always been a Patriot. He had a “Don’t Tread on Me” sticker on his truck before the Collapse. That sticker had gotten him a lot of crap after the pre-May Day terrorist attacks, which were—of course—blamed on “Timothy McVeigh types.” There was never any proof the attacks were from “right wingers,” but the media persisted in speculating that “militia tea party” people had done it. Most people believed the media back before the Collapse, which meant that having a “Don’t Tread on Me” sticker caused many to think Tony was a terrorist.
As a result of that sticker, right before the Collapse, Tony got reassigned from his computer job because he was now a “security risk.” His new job was going out and being an on-site troubleshooter. Crime was through the roof and the company prohibited him from carrying a weapon even though he had a concealed pistol license. He would have liked to quit, but he had one of the only remaining semi-decent jobs that were available.
In the end, he never had to decide whether to quit because he got laid off. Some of Tony’s co-workers—withou
t “Don’t Tread on Me” stickers—held onto their jobs for another few weeks, but eventually they got laid off, too.
A few days after he got laid off, Tony’s truck was vandalized, which was when he decided to take the sticker off. He decided to lay low and try to ride out the Collapse, though that became impossible.
Tony soon got in touch with some friends who were also Patriots. Before he knew it, he was at Boston Harbor being vetted to join an irregular unit. He ended up with the 17th.
He was glad to be in the unit, which was very squared away. Like many of the members of the 17th, Tony had no formal military training, but he quickly learned everything he needed to know. They were just irregular troops; they didn’t need to be commandos.
Tony had grown up in Lewis County, a rural area to the south of Olympia. Growing up out there, he’d learned how to use a chainsaw. He was cutting firewood at the Marion Farm. They had a big woodstove in the barn. That was all the heat they had, but luckily Washington State winters weren’t bitterly cold.
One cool morning at the farm, Tony was cutting a tree and suddenly, the saw jumped up and hit his leg. There was an explosion of red mist and he heard the most horrifying noise: the blade hitting what sounded like bones.
Tony wondered what was going on. He looked down at his left leg and saw it hanging there by some muscle. He could see his leg bone. A split, woozy, second later, Tony realized that he had cut his leg. Then the pain hit. It was the worst thing he’d ever felt. Then everything went black.
The other soldier cutting wood heard Tony scream, came running over and quickly applied direct pressure while someone got Nick, who rushed over and applied a tourniquet. Tony was going in and out of consciousness at this point. He was delirious.
Nick realized that he needed some real medical attention or Tony would die. Ted and Nick had planned for an injury that was so severe that they needed to go to the Pierce Point medical clinic. It would risk their cover, but saving a soldier was worth it. Besides, the “rental team” story was widely known out at Pierce Point. They would just play along with the “rental team” story and get their “rental team” member some medical help. Everything would work out fine. That was the plan.
Tony was rushed to the medical clinic at the Grange. Nick had stopped the bleeding, which was good because Tony was perilously close to dying from blood loss. Nick didn’t have the equipment to amputate, which he hoped wouldn’t be necessary, but it likely would be. At least it was something they could do at Pierce Point. They had saws and rubbing alcohol.
It was raining and almost dark. Not night-time dark—it was 2:00 p.m.—but dark gray and pouring rain. It was typical late-November weather in Washington State. It was hard to see in the rain and low-light conditions.
When a strange truck came speeding toward the Grange, Chip and the guards scrambled to defensive positions. They clicked off their safeties. A couple more yards and they would open up. They had sticks with fluorescent surveyors’ tape set up fifty yards from the parking lot boundaries. If a strange vehicle crossed the fifty-yard line without stopping, the guards were authorized to open up. Shoot the driver and then concentrate on the engine block.
Nick was in the bed of the truck with Tony. Don, the RED HORSE guy, was driving dangerously fast.
Don, who had never been there before, could start to see the Grange and the guard shack. He had been speeding, which was a good thing since Tony was on the verge of bleeding out. But then, in an instant, it flashed through his mind that the Grange would be guarded. He realized he was quickly approaching the guard shack. The next instant his mind said, “Friendly fire.” He went from full speed to sudden stop in an instant.
When he stopped, they were at about one hundred fifty yards and closing. Chip put his hand up, which was the signal for don’t fire. When his arm dropped down, that meant shoot to kill. Knowing that this was not a drill, Chip started to let his arm go down. He tasted the adrenaline on his tongue. Someone was trying to ram the Grange. Whoever was in that truck was about to die; they’d sort out the details later. Everyone in Pierce Point knew not to charge up to the Grange. Everyone knew what the flags at the fifty-yard line meant.
Suddenly, the truck’s headlights flashed on and off, which puzzled Chip. Were the lights a signal? He kept his arm up.
As he was flashing the headlights, Don saw the guards pointing rifles at the truck. He thought, for a split second, that he was going to die by friendly fire. How embarrassing. Of all the ways to go.
Nick jumped up from the bed of the truck and, with his hands up, screamed “Medical emergency. We need help.” He kept his hands way up and then yelled, “Cornhuskers suck!”
Chip yelled to the guards, “Lower your weapons. They’re friendlies.” He turned around and made sure every one of the guards were no longer pointing a rifle at the truck.
“Come on in!” Chip yelled and motioned for the driver to pull forward. Don did. He, too, could taste the adrenaline on his tongue. He had almost been shot.
Nick came running up and said, “We have an injury on the rental team.” Nick had been told to keep the “rental team” cover story going no matter what, even though Chip knew exactly where Nick and the truck had come from.
“Cornhuskers suck” was a code phrase Ted had worked out with Chip. The two were longtime friends and Ted was from Oklahoma. Ted, a University of Oklahoma football fan, hated the rival powerhouse team, the Nebraska Cornhuskers. Ted told Nick the Cornhusker code phrase when they planned for getting a wounded or ill soldier to the Grange. As Ted was fond of saying, “We have a plan for everything.”
Chip signaled and one of the guards ran into the Grange to get the medical team ready to go. He waived the other guards toward the truck to help move the injured person into the Grange. By now, people were pouring out of the Grange to see what was going on.
The guards ran up to the bed of the truck and looked inside of it. Tony was a mess. There was blood everywhere. The bed of the truck was coated with a thick crimson red liquid. The rain was diluting it and carrying it away in little streams.
Tony was going in and out of consciousness and occasionally screaming. He had a tourniquet on, but his lower leg was being held onto the upper leg by a splint made out of branches. It was primitive.
They rushed Tony into the Grange. The medical team, led by Lisa, started to work on him. They kicked everyone out, except for Nick.
Pretty soon, the guards and the bystanders started looking at Don. He was in Air Force fatigues. Only about a third of the soldiers in the 17th wore military fatigues. Ted encouraged those who had military fatigues to wear them. This “military look” emphasized to the unit, especially the former civilians, that the 17th was, indeed, a military unit. An irregular one, but a military unit nonetheless. Looking and feeling like a military unit highly increased the likelihood that they would act like one. Instead of like a gang or mercenaries.
Don usually had a name tape that said “Wash. State Guard” where the “U.S. Air Force” name tape should have been. The plan was that if anyone from the unit had to leave the farm, they would remove the “Wash. State Guard” tape. The guards at Marion Farm would make sure anyone leaving the farm did so.
Don was glad that the Marion Farm guards remembered to grab his “Wash. State Guard” name tape. Thank goodness. It would have been hard to explain to the Pierce Point people why a “rental team” had “Wash. State Guard” on their uniforms.
Don had never seen these Pierce Point people before. He realized that they had never seen him, either. He was a stranger in a military uniform. It was time to start the cover story.
“Hi, everyone,” Don said casually. “I’m with some contractors around here. We don’t really talk about what we’re doing, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention that I exist.”
More stares. Chip came up and said to the onlookers. “This guy doesn’t exist. He and his guys are making Pierce Point a bunch of money, which means more food. That goes away if people know they exist
. Did you enjoy that turkey dinner? Ever wonder where the money came from? Want another turkey dinner? Then don’t blow this cash cow. Got it?” People nodded a little. They trusted Chip, so if he said things were okay and these guys didn’t exist, then they didn’t exist.
Don realized that the more he stood there on display, the more people would see him. “I’ll wait in the truck,” he said.
“Good idea,” Chip said. He had been thinking the same thing.
Now that things were secure, Chip went into the Grange.
Then he heard something terrifying.
“Lt. Matson! Lt. Matson!” Tony was screaming.
No one in the Grange, except Chip and Nick, was supposed to know that Grant was a lieutenant. Grant was only supposed to be “Judge Matson.”
“Lt. Matson!” Tony screamed again.
Chip looked at Lisa. She shot back a scowl at him. Her face seemed to be saying, “So, my husband is a lieutenant in something? He never fucking told me.”
Chip gave Lisa a puzzled look, as if to say, “I have no idea what that delirious guy is saying.” Lisa wasn’t persuaded. She had heard little things that there might be a Green Beret unit or some crazy thing like that out on a farm in Pierce Point and that the “rental team” was their cover story.
Now it all made sense. Grant being away all the time with “the Team.” Grant acting weird all the time like he was hiding something from her. And Grant had basically stopped talking about how to prevent the government from doing what it was doing. Lisa had thought that he had come to a conclusion about what to do to stop the government, but just wasn’t talking about it. “Lt. Matson” explained everything.
Lisa refocused her attention on saving the patient. Nick had done an amazing job of stopping the bleeding, but the leg had to go. Unfortunately, they didn’t really have any proper amputation equipment. And they had very little pain killers.
They decided to use a hand saw. It was grisly. Lisa had never done that before. None of the nurses or EMTs had, either. They gave Tony as much pain meds as they had, waited for them to take effect and … started sawing.
