Broken Tide | Book 3 | Maelstrom

by Richardson, Marcus

  Cami pushed those thoughts aside as she saw the look on Sheriff McIntyre's face. He stood by his squad car—which sported several fresh bullet-sized holes across the front quarter panel—and drank from a bottle of water.

  "Afternoon, Sheriff," Cami said in greeting.

  "Mrs. Lavelle.”

  "How are you doing?" Cami asked as she folded her arms.

  The sheriff paused, the bottle only an inch from his mouth. He looked at Cami and smiled. "You know, since all this started…what, a week and a half ago? Two weeks?” he asked with a shake of his head. “All the days run together. You're the first person to ask me how I'm doing." He smiled, took a drink, and sighed. "Thank you for that. You just reminded me that there’s still some humanity left out there."

  The smile on Cami's face faded. "It's that bad, huh?”

  The sheriff shook his head and put the empty bottle on the hood. "Worse. I came across a house today full of..." He looked at Amber, then back at Cami. "That…nevermind—probably shouldn’t be talking about an active investigation, anyway."

  Cami stepped forward and shot a glance at Amber. "Sheriff, if what you’ve seen might affect me and my family, I'd appreciate it if you shared what you know. Things are bad enough as it is, I don't need to be jumping at shadows in the middle of the night when we’re armed all the time—I’d hate to shoot somebody by accident."

  "I'd hate for you to do that," the sheriff said. "Not so much because I'm worried about the trespassers, mind you, there’s nothing left of the judicial system to get you in trouble over that. I'd be more concerned about your mental well-being after shooting somebody that didn't need shootin’.” He crossed his thick arms over a bulletproof vest that stretched his uniform to the breaking point. "I've seen some pretty sick stuff in my time as sheriff," he said somberly. "Not as much as the boys from Charleston, but we get our fair share of twisted crimes out here in the sticks.” He glanced at the construction work wrapping up for the day at Marty's place. "That right there’s proof positive. That's the difference between this neighborhood and some others I've seen. People ain’t got the guts to stand up and say enough is enough. Yet.”

  "You mean more neighborhoods have come under attack?" asked Cami. “Like us?”

  The sheriff nodded. "Unfortunately. Up in Greenbrier, got word last night that some unsavory elements were causing trouble. We went up and checked it out, didn't see anything, and I don't have the manpower to spare a handful of deputies to sit around all night.” He took off his cowboy hat and mopped his brow. “There's too much going on across the county—between medical emergencies and fights in grocery stores…the ones that still have any food that is…my men are stretched to the limit. That's not takin’ into account the men who’ve just up and quit. Can't blame them," he said more to himself than Cami. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “If I had me a young wife and child at home, I'd probably tuck tail and run, too.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Cami asked.

  He looked up at Cami and his eyes, tired and bloodshot, expressed a level of pain and anguish she'd rarely seen in another human. "I'm about at my wits end,” he exhaled. “I haven't had a good night’s sleep since this all went down," he said with a gesture toward the construction on Marty's house. "And then we find Greenbrier today practically burned to the ground. We couldn't even count the bodies. The houses were still too hot..." he said in a choked voice. He punched the hood of his car and turned away.

  Cami stepped closer and got a whiff of smoke from his uniform. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Sheriff…you're only human. Don't blame yourself for what these animals are doing. You’re only one man—you can’t stop everything.”

  He nodded and tossed his wide-brimmed hat on the hood. "It's kind of you say that, but it is my fault," he said. "When all this went down, word got through from the county board to release nonviolent prisoners from the detention facility. I fought tooth and nail over letting anybody out, but they overruled me.”

  “Well, that’s on the politicians—” Cami began.

  “And I went along with it,” McIntyre said with finality. “Instead of taking it to the next step and actually sending my deputies out to make sure no one got out, I threw my hands up and turned to more pressing matters. And what happened? A typical bureaucratic nightmare. Somebody fat-fingered something on one of the forms and next thing you know, half the county prisons completely emptied. Everybody got out, from people with overpaid parking tickets to a handful of murderers. Even a couple guys doing federal time and just passing through.” He looked off into the distance. “If I had pushed back harder…”

  “They might've tried to remove you from office or done something else equally stupid.” She put her hands on her hips. “The politicians were determined to let those guys out—this wasn't your fault. What's done is done—now it's up to you to maintain control." Cami looked at Amber, then back at the sheriff. “So, you have to tell me what we can do to help."

  The sheriff glanced at Cami and grinned, then looked at Amber. "Your mother's a special lady, you know that?"

  Amber smiled broadly. "I sure do, sheriff—I don't know where any of us would be without her. She's kind of taking care of most of the neighborhood."

  The sheriff nodded and leaned back against the squad car. "Well, that's why I'm here, honestly. I got some grim news that probably shouldn't be unexpected."

  Cami took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "You're here to tell us that we’re on our own, aren’t you?”

  The sheriff's shoulders slumped. "I surely hate to say it, but you're right. I'm doing all I can. But between officers going down with wounds—John Parks was killed last night in a scuffle over on the county line. His death’ll be hard to bear—he was my right-hand man for the past ten years.”

  Cami put a hand in front of her mouth. "I'm so sorry…did he have family?"

  The sheriff sniffed. "Thankfully no. John was a…well, he was a lone wolf. But my pack is going to be significantly less useful without him. What I'm trying to say is that I'm going to have to reduce my patrols."

  "We've noticed that you haven't been by as often in the past couple days,” Amber said.

  "And I apologize for that," the sheriff said to Cami and Amber. "I'm doing the best I can, but you folks look like you got things in hand. I doubt those dirtbags would’ve lasted much longer the other day, even if me and my boys hadn't shown up when we did."

  "Well…it would've been a near thing, but I think you're right. We probably have the numbers to take them out, but we don't have any way of maintaining control of the neighborhood. We’re too disorganized, and we don't have an effective way to communicate. I mean, Marty's got his ham radio..." Cami shrugged. "But that's about it."

  The sheriff looked thoughtful for a moment. He scratched the stubble on his jaw and smiled. "I might not be here in person or send any deputies to come check on things, but we can still maintain radio communications through that rig Mr. Price has. But you're right, that won't be enough to patrol the neighborhood if you're doing it on your own. However," he said as he opened the trunk. "Me and the boys were thinking about how to reduce the pressure on us, and we came to the conclusion that the more communities out here like Bee’s Landing that can take care of themselves, the better we can serve as a countywide quick reaction force.”

  “What’s that?” asked Amber.

  The sheriff looked at her. “When you get into some serious trouble you call in the cavalry and we can roll in guns blazing. But we’re only effective if we come in as a coordinated unit. If I've only got one deputy that can come to help, it’ll just be a matter of time before the bad guys realize they can pick off communities and leave the entire county undefended. And I guarantee you, them boys in the city ain’t gonna be here to help," the sheriff said as he dug around in his trunk.

  Cami looked at Amber, who shrugged. "So, what are you suggesting we do? I mean, the homeowners association tried to organize us last week, but that kinda fell apart once those
thugs showed up. Most people are afraid to come out of their homes now—the only ones willing to help Marty on the repair work are pretty much hunters and outdoorsmen. Everybody else is in hiding."

  “They’re afraid to come out because nobody has cell phones anymore,” Amber added. “We can't send text messages and check on each other—we have to actually go out and walk down the street. And now that people have actually attacked the neighborhood, nobody wants to take the chance that they're going to be the next one mugged."

  Cami looked at her daughter and smiled sadly. How she wished that Amber hadn’t been the first person to be mugged in the neighborhood. "Honey, if there was any way that I could take back what happened—“

  Amber stared at the sheriff, her face set in stone. “Mom, it wasn't your fault."

  "I may not be able to be here in person,” Sheriff McIntyre said, “but I can definitely help. Take these.” He handed Cami a big black duffel bag.

  She smiled at him, then looked down and unzipped the heavy bag. Inside she found eight sets of two-way radios, all marked with Charleston County Sheriff's Office. Extra batteries and chargers added to the weight of the bag. "Sheriff,” she began, “these are great but…once the batteries die, how are we supposed to recharge them?" She hated pretending to have no means of independent power. The fact that she had to lie to the last true lawman in the county was only poured salt in an open wound. Cami looked down at the radios. Maybe it was time to come clean with the sheriff…

  "Well, for the time being, find somebody that has a generator—“ began McIntyre.

  “We have a gas powered generator," Amber said. She blushed under Cami's withering glare, then put her hands in her pockets. "We don't use it much."

  The sheriff smiled at Amber, then nodded at Cami. "Don't be sorry that you're smart enough to know when to be quiet about things, young lady. Times like these, your mother's likely right—you don't want to charge these things out in the open. The only people you can trust are the ones that’ll have your back in a firefight. How many of them," the sheriff said with a jerk of his chin toward the half-dozen people that clambered over Marty's house, "stood with you when you were under attack?"

  "Well..." Cami said with a shrug. "None of them. They didn't know—they were on the other side of the neighborhood. Marty helped, of course, and Mia..."

  The sheriff grunted. "But they're here now and no one else is. That ought to tell you something, too. Trust who you can, but always be vigilant. I've seen neighbors turn on each other in an instant the moment someone runs out of food." He shook his head. "It's a crying shame, but it's a fact of the new life we've got." He reached up and slammed the trunk shut. "But, it is what it is. So, take that as a gift," he said with a nod toward the bag Cami held in her hands. "And put ‘em to good use. Organize your people—I think y'all are halfway there. You're certainly a lot further along than most of the other neighborhoods we’re patrolling. If Greenbrier had had half the sense you people have, there might be some folks still alive up there today."

  “Are there any threats that you know of nearby?" Cami asked.

  "Nah,” the sheriff said with a shrug. "Most all the nasty business is down closer to Charleston. We’re not seeing too much of that leak out into the countryside…yet. Just this business up in Greenbrier. There was another mess not too far from here a couple days ago, right around the same time y'all got hit. But it wasn't nearly as bad as Greenbrier. If it's the same group..."

  “Could it be?” asked Cami.

  The sheriff exhaled and shrugged. "If it is the same group, they could be moving away. But, who knows? They could be roaming around out there in separate groups...I just don't know. Without communications, I'm relying on what my deputies can see and hear, and what they pick up from people who flag ‘em down.”

  "What about the ham radio?" asked Amber.

  “It's good for relaying information, but we’re mostly getting rumors from outside the state. All kinds of bad stuff going on out there." He shook his head and picked up his hat from the hood. "If I was you, I'd make sure Mr. Price stays safe. He's gonna be real important in the coming days and weeks. You got anybody else in the neighborhood that knows how to run a ham radio?"

  Cami and Amber looked at each other. "Not that I know of," Cami admitted. "Why?"

  The sheriff squinted at Cami. "How old is Mr. Price?"

  Cami swallowed. “Uh…”

  He nodded. "Put them radios to good use, Mrs. Lavelle. You can call us if you need us—just see Mr. Price. But I can't promise you how fast me or one of my men can get here. I also can't promise that we’ll be able to do anything if we do get here in time. We’re just spread too dang thin. But if you can hold out on your own for a while, I have a feeling most of the bad seeds out there are going to weed themselves out. Seen a lot of bad guys catch the wrong end of a home invasion lately."

  Cami shook her head. "I don't know anything about organizing…” She looked at the sheriff. "What am I supposed to do?"

  The sheriff walked around the car and opened the driver’s door, then leaned on the roof. "Be yourselves. Just talk to people—if you've got enough sense to survive so far, then you got enough sense to lead people. Look at what you're doing over at Mr. Price's house. That didn't just happen because these people decided to come over and help. They saw you take a stand, and they saw you take charge. You've already got the beginnings of a good group. Use it."

  "But, what about the homeowner’s association?" Cami asked quickly. "They're trying to go door-to-door and take all the supplies that they declare essential. Is there something that you can give me that I can show them…so that we can—“

  The sheriff grinned at her. "Have they…been able to take anything from you?"

  "No, but they tried," Amber blurted. "Mom put a shotgun in their face and they backed off."

  The sheriff laughed. "I'd say that’d be a lot more effective than any piece of paper I can give you. Like I said, there's no judicial system—all the courts are shut down. There ain't no lawyers out there, no judges hearin’ cases. You're on your own. Much more of this, and we’re going to be seeing some frontier justice spring up. I'm not one to embrace the past, but sometimes things just got to get done. You ever heard of the Regulators?”

  Cami swallowed. She wanted no part in taking the law into her own hands and enforcing frontier justice. "Sheriff, we’ll do our best. I want you to know, you and your men—any of then—will always find safe haven here. I don't care if we don't end up setting up a neighborhood watch patrol or whatever…you need anything, you come to my house."

  The sheriff tipped his hat. "Much obliged, ma'am. That means a lot. I just hope I don't have occasion to take you up on that offer." He slapped the roof of his car. "Now, if there's nothing else?"

  "I think I know who was behind the attack," Cami blurted.

  The sheriff cocked his head and waited.

  "I think it was Harriet Spalding. She lives across the street there," Cami said with a nod toward Harriet's expansive lawn.

  The sheriff turned and glanced over his shoulder. "Nice digs."

  Cami shrugged. "Her husband was some big shot banker down in Charleston. She's kind of a..."

  "Pain in the butt," Amber supplied.

  The sheriff barked a laugh. "What makes you think she had anything to do with the attack?” he said with a gesture at Cami's bullet-riddled house.

  "Well…” Cami began, “she's in charge of the homeowner’s association, and just the day before the attack they had tried to confiscate our stuff."

  The sheriff nodded. "Was she there for the attack?"

  Cami frowned. "Well, no…but a few of the board members were, and—“

  McIntyre tipped his hat back. “Did anyone say they were there because she sent them?"

  "Well…not exactly…”

  The sheriff sighed. “In normal times, I might be able to do something for you—file some paperwork, ask some questions, that kind of thing. Generally, make a nuisance of myself to t
he point that she backs down.” He sighed. “But I'm afraid empty legal threats are just that now. I can file all the papers I want, but there's no judges—Charleston’s gone—and there's no lawyers to back me up with subpoenas and restraining orders. If I tried to do something and it backfires, then that's the end of any perceived authority I have. I don't know if that's worth the risk. You seem to have handled it on your own already—I'd say when the time comes…you'll know what to do."

  "Sheriff, I'm not gonna stand by and let people steal the food that I've painstakingly acquired to help feed my daughter in times like this."

  The sheriff looked past Cami and Amber at the two houses and the blue tarp that covered Marty's roof. "No, I don't imagine you will." He slapped the roof of his squad car again and smiled. "You ladies stay safe, y’hear?" He nodded, took his hat off and sat in the driver’s seat. The door shut, the engine started, and then he was gone.

  Cami watched the patrol car as it navigated the final bend and disappeared toward the neighborhood entrance. A dreadful silence settled on them, punctured only by the drone of cicadas in the surrounding trees. Cami turned and looked at Amber. "Things have to change around here, huh?" asked Amber.

  Cami nodded. "I don't know if it'll be for the good…and I don't know if it it'll make things better or worse…”

  "It's all right mom," Amber said with a smile. She turned and walked down the driveway toward home. "I have faith in you."

  Cami stood there in the street, the sheriff's duffel bag clutched to her chest. She looked up at the achingly-blue sky overhead. A few more hours and the sun would slide toward the horizon and paint the sky in pastel oranges and pinks. Another glorious late summer evening lay ahead of them.

  "I just hope other people might have faith in me too…”

  Chapter 5

  Spalding Residence

  Bee’s Landing Subdivision

  Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina

  Darien stared through the binoculars and frowned. The Lavelle woman was definitely up to something. He’d just watched her have a ten-minute conversation with the sheriff that had ruined his plans the other day.