Dark Days of the After (Book 4): Dark Days of the Enclave

by Schow, Ryan

  Clay narrowed his eyes further, his reaction tempered, but only by a hair. “Of course,” he said.

  Man or not, ally or not, he was now the Sheriff standing before a pack of admitted murderers. Then again, what he didn’t say was that he’d killed so many people in Afghanistan, he’d lost track of the body count. And what he sure as hell would never admit was that he no longer had the capacity to care. Looking these people in the eyes, standing there before them, he felt the enormousness and ferociousness of their souls. Perhaps getting his brain broken in the war was more of a gift these days than a curse.

  Cooper finally scratched some dirt over his turd, sniffed the coated pile, then wandered forward and started poking around Clay’s boots. The pup then lifted his head and went face-first into the unmentionables, his nose working overtime.

  Clay pushed the dog’s head away, then slid his hand under Cooper’s snout, scratching him lightly and smiling down at him. He was looking down at the dog, but he was thinking about these people. They might be as friendly as the pooch here, but they sure as hell weren’t showing it.

  “Where are Skylar and Ryker?” he asked.

  “Hunting,” Logan said.

  “Looking around, it seems y’all would fare just fine if Five Falls and every last soul burned to the ground.”

  “You talking physically or emotionally?” Stephani asked.

  “Maybe both.”

  “This is our land,” Connor said. “Our home.”

  “You have each other, your weapons, chickens it looks like, gardens, bees and shelter. That’s more than most folks.”

  “It is,” Orbey said. “Not that I’m enjoying where you’re going with this.”

  “I have a community to care for,” Clay explained. “We need leaders, people who know what they’re doing to show some of the others who don’t. I’m not thinking about you personally as much as I’m thinking about the community as a whole.”

  “Everyone wants something, Clay,” Harper said. “Or should we call you, Sheriff?”

  “Who exactly did you kill before all this?” Clay asked again.

  “Just those who needed killing,” Stephani said, answering for her friend. “One guy was a rapist, another the world’s largest asshole, and another a future problem we eliminated early on account of the douchebaggery coming out of his mouth.”

  “Well that’s good,” he reasoned, his nodding head a gesture of agreement. “This should make keeping order around here a lot easier.”

  “Our last Sheriff couldn’t find his dick with both hands,” Connor admitted.

  “Plus he was weak,” Logan added.

  “So I heard,” Clay replied.

  “But you’re different,” Orbey said, smiling for the first time. “I think I speak for us all when I say we see it. We see you. And that means we feel comfortable leaving law enforcement and things like justice and recrimination to you now.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said, grateful for the breathing room. “But y’all don’t look terribly comfortable with me just yet.”

  “We’re tending to our injuries,” Connor said.

  He didn’t look injured at all.

  “Hemorrhoids aren’t injuries,” Orbey said under her breath.

  “It’s a strain, problems with the blood vessels, and it feels like an injury from, you know, getting involved,” Connor argued, not quiet about it.

  “Nevertheless,” Clay said, “I’m going to be holding a community meeting in the Five Falls park. We’re going to need people like you there, people who seem to know about long term survivability. Is that something you’re up for?”

  “What’s in it for us?” Stephani asked.

  “Excuse me?” Clay said.

  “She just wants a date and maybe a chance to forget all this crap,” Logan muttered from the porch swing. Stephani’s face got red, but she didn’t deny it.

  “You want me to take you out?” he asked, confused.

  “Only if you ask me nicely,” she replied with a grin, “and only if you’re half a gentleman.”

  He shook his head, then turned and said, “This afternoon, ‘round three o’clock, that’s when we’re meeting. I hope to see you there.”

  And with that, he turned and headed down to the Blazer, the pup keeping stride with him until Stephani called him back. Turning, looking over his shoulder, Clay laid eyes on Stephani once more. Even though she was a hardened woman, and a Madigan, she’d saved his life, so maybe he owed her a date. But did he want to spend his personal time with her?

  He kind of thought he might want that.

  Later that day, the residents of Five Falls gathered at the rather large community park. There Clay and Boone took turns summarizing emergency escape plans should they have another invasion like the one they suffered at the high school. It started with having an alternate location they could bug out to as a community, something Clay said he and Boone would be working on. When people voiced concerns for their safety, he reassured them that Noah and his security force would be taking measures to both close and fortify the town’s borders.

  “People can still get in,” one angry man said from the otherwise rapt crowd.

  “Unless all of us shut ourselves into one location, which is impossible, there will always be holes,” Clay said. “Our job is not to stop every single threat, it’s to minimize the threats to the best of our capabilities, and deal with those that slip through the cracks. This is why continued vigilance is critical to our survival.”

  “That’s not good enough,” one woman shouted.

  “You’re free to leave then,” Clay responded, his tone cold. “Or perhaps you have a better idea? If so, I’m all ears. How do you propose we move forward, ma’am?”

  People turned to look at her, as if waiting, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Continuing on,” Boone said, taking over after an uncomfortable moment of silence. “This new world won’t be easy. And for that reason, this is not a time to ask what someone else can do for you, or even what you can do just for yourself. It’s time to think about us as a community.”

  Clay stepped in and said, “Good communities aren’t selfish, needy or weak. They don’t throw temper tantrums, gossip like school children or whine about how hard things are. We know they’re hard. We know you’re scared. And we know that this might not be over.”

  “If this pep talk is meant to reassure us,” one man said, “it’s not working.”

  “My job is to reassure you of the truth,” Clay said, his tone stern and direct. “Your job is to understand you have two choices. Stay and work hard, maybe even fight to defend the town, or take your family and leave. What you do is up to you. Does anyone have any other questions? And I’m not talking about complaints couched as questions.”

  “What if we don’t know how to protect ourselves?” one woman asked.

  “And what if we run out of food?” the young man beside her asked.

  “We have people who will help you with gardens, and people who will show you the ins and outs of hunting safety,” Clay responded. “We also have fishermen, tactical specialists for self-defense and people who can assist you in preparing your homes for a powerless world. Beyond that, we will have neighborhood reps, three per neighborhood, whom you will elect today.”

  “If no one has any objections,” Boone added, his voice carrying, “we’d like to do that now.”

  No objections arose.

  “Alright then,” Boone said. “We have five distinct neighborhoods. Everyone in these neighborhoods needs to branch out and gather together as a group. From there, you’ll have half an hour to elect your three representatives. These will be your conduits to those selfless individuals who will help educate us both individually and as a community. Please do that now.”

  After the five neighborhoods selected their leaders, these fifteen representatives stepped forward. Clay asked them to quickly select a spokesperson from each neighborhood. When this was done, he handed the five of them a workin
g walkie-talkie.

  “The Unidens have a range of fifty-miles and rechargeable batteries,” Clay said. “You will need to make sure they are always charged.” Everyone nodded in agreement, allowing Clay to continue. “The fifteen of you will serve as the inner circle for our future town gatherings, crowd management and security both in difficult times and quiet times. In quiet times, people conspire, they whine and complain among themselves, they begin to tell others how they think things should be. This is the time you’ll need to be leaders, and to do so, you will need spies.”

  “What do you mean?” one of the women asked.

  Clay never thought he’d come back to Five Falls, let alone serve as its Sheriff. He felt a bit out of sorts not knowing these people’s names, or really anything about them. Yet he was supposed to garner their trust? Lead them? Leadership required an equal exchange of both faith and trust, two things he had yet to either give or garner.

  “We have a lot of work to do as a community,” he announced to the fifteen, all the eyes on him in that moment. “I’d like to address the town, and then I’ll dismiss them and we’ll talk about how to keep a lid on things while we rebuild our community structure.”

  “Everyone seems fine, all things considered,” one of the fifteen said.

  “Yeah, but I’m about to kick the hornet’s nest, just to see what’s what,” Clay said. “Whoever creates an issue is who you’ll need to watch. Keep your eyes on your people.”

  If he was ever going to lay down the law, or flush out the dissidents, it was when everyone was together.

  “I’d like to tell you that we are safe for now, but the truth is, we are not,” Clay announced to the masses, confidently projecting his voice the way he did back in Afghanistan, the way Boone had earlier. “We don’t know when we’ll be hit again, if ever. But if we should meet that challenge again, we will do so as a community that is both prepared and unified.”

  Heads were nodding in agreement.

  So far, so good…

  “I don’t want to be the kind of Sheriff who has to keep order when one of you gets drunk and decides to be an asshole, or beat up your neighbor or your wife. And I certainly don’t want to be the guy who has to hunt you down because you stole someone’s things. I realize there will be hunger, fear, need, desperation. And as a community, we will address that.”

  “So we’re supposed to share our stuff with folks who didn’t get ready for this like us?” someone asked. This was a forty-something man he didn’t know. He wasn’t hostile about it, just unclear on his role, and perhaps a bit taken aback by Clay’s suggestions.

  “I’m saying we need to assess our neighborhood situation,” Clay said. “That’s why you elected three leaders from each neighborhood. The fifteen of them will meet with those of us looking to serve the overall community in creating viable solutions for long term survivability.”

  “The lights are coming back on, aren’t they?” an older woman asked.

  “I wouldn’t plan on it,” Clay said, finding the woman who asked the question.

  “So what happens if someone steals our stuff?” This question was from a gentleman Clay recognized, but for the life of him, could not put a name to.

  “They will be dealt with,” Clay said.

  “By you?” a teenage girl asked.

  The questions were now coming in fast, each more laced with emotion than the last. He felt his control of the conversation quickly slipping away.

  “By me,” Stephani said, stepping forward.

  “And me,” Logan said, joining her.

  Skyler then stepped forward with Ryker and said, “And if not them, then by us.”

  This quieted everyone.

  “The law can only do so much,” Ryker announced. “That means as of now we’re operating on mob rule. I can only speak for myself, here, but if you take the low road while we’re trying to live together in harmony as a safe, productive community, one of us will hunt you down and deal with you. And after we wash your blood off our hands, whatever you have left to your name will be divvied up among the community, which is why stealing people’s stuff is counterproductive to your survival.”

  “You don’t expect us to live in fear, do you?” the woman who asked about the lights coming back on asked.

  “Living in fear is no real way to live,” Ryker said. “If you don’t harm anyone else, or steal from them—or worse—you’ll have nothing to fear from any of us, or the Sheriff. But if you act out of turn, then you better pray to God you can run really fast, because if you get caught—and you will get caught—I’ll see to it personally that you get what’s coming to you.”

  This stirred up quite a ruckus, and soon everyone’s eyes were on Clay, demanding answers for these bold, if not insane statements. Clay held his hands up, gestured for everyone to calm down and be quiet.

  “I cannot protect this community alone,” Clay announced. “So if you’re caught breaking the law, you will do so at the cost of your life. We either survive together or we fail working against each other. I intend for us to survive. Good behavior and a spirit of cooperativeness will allow us to thrive.”

  The noise levels rose and some people walked away completely, but the fifteen members remained steadfast, all eyes and ears on Clay.

  He expected this.

  “We need an assessment of provisions,” Clay said to the fifteen. “You’re all responsible for making sure your people have water, food, shelter and medication. It’s going to be cold, so take stock of firewood and blankets, and make sure everyone has operable fireplaces. Also, I don’t want sick people living alone, and the elderly will need advocates. Any questions?”

  The fifteen nodded in unison.

  “Before we conclude,” Boone loudly asked the masses, “does anyone have any questions your neighborhood reps can’t answer?”

  No one said anything, which gave him a visible sigh of relief.

  “Alright then,” he continued. “Your designated reps will gather you in a group later today, the time and place to be determined by them and by you. They will address any additional questions or concerns you have.”

  As they watched the masses depart, Clay looked for potential turncoats among them. These were the men or women who wouldn’t agree with his approach, or Ryker’s direct threat to their lives. He’d find them soon enough. He only prayed he’d get word from his reps first rather than a bullet in the back.

  Ryker, Logan, Harper, Noah and the Madigan clan joined them, as Clay had hoped they would. To the fifteen, he said, “If any of you have a problem, you call me on the two-way and I’ll call one of them.”

  “So they’re your hit squad?” one of the fifteen asked, looking at what Clay now thought of as the Madigan Militia.

  “I thought we’d already established that,” he replied, slow, measured.

  “Oh, I’m good with all that,” she said, raising a hand like she understood. “It’s just, one of the women under my charge seems like she’s gonna be a problem. Patty Drake. She was a mouthy twat before all this began, but now she’s found a new gear. At least, she was acting like that when the reps were being chosen.”

  “Are you wanting to know if we have a problem roughing up or killing a woman, if things get bad, maybe out of hand?” Ryker asked.

  She nodded.

  “I don’t have a problem with that,” Skylar said.

  “Neither do I,” Harper added.

  “That’s all I wanted to know,” the woman said, seemingly comforted by the reassurances. Looking at the two ladies, the woman smiled; neither Harper’s nor Skylar’s expression changed. Stephani, on the other hand, gave her a supportive smile.

  “All it takes is two people to step out of line,” Ryker said. “After we give those two the beating of a lifetime, or a dirt nap if necessary, we will effectively stifle any rebellion, which should usher in community compliance.”

  “Or a coup,” one of the fifteen said.

  “This is a possibility,” Clay agreed, not even blushing
. “Let’s blow up that bridge if we come to it. Until now, we work toward peace and stability.”

  Just then, a man’s voice came over Noah’s walkie-talkie on a private channel. “We’ve got a problem, bossman.”

  Everyone looked over at Noah as he picked up the two-way and said, “Say again, over.”

  “They’re here,” he said again, panicked.

  “Who’s here?” Noah asked.

  Clay had a sinking feeling in his gut. He looked at Boone whose eyes were fixed on the old man.

  “The Chicoms,” he said. “Giant convoy. They’re hauling something huge, a generator, I think. It’s fricking huge.”

  “We’ll be there in a minute,” Noah assured him.

  “They’re stopped in front of the old convoy,” he said, breathless. “They’re looking at the trench now. They don’t look happy.”

  Noah looked at Clay and they both looked at Boone.

  “Let’s go,” Boone said.

  The three of them got in the Blazer and high-tailed it to the I5 border where they’d fought and won an earlier battle. When Boone drove up to the trench, the three of them were met by armed Chicoms.

  “That’s a step-up generator,” Boone said, slowly stopping the truck on soft brakes.

  “It’s probably for Washington’s nuclear power plant,” Noah said.

  When they got out of the truck, the leader of the convoy said, “Who did all this?” He pointed to the trench, not the mass of roasted Chicom vehicles.

  “We did,” Boone said.

  “You don’t have authorization to dig here!”

  “Actually we do,” Clay said.

  “By whom?”

  Slowly, Clay grabbed his crotch with one hand then pointed to it with the other and said, “This is where all authorizations come from.”

  Noah gave a little chortle; Boone just frowned at him. Clay wasn’t one for cracking jokes, but he was making a valid point. They weren’t going to be pushed around.

  “Do you understand what we’re doing here?” this Chicom asked, hopping down into the trench and crossing the divide. He had one of his men help him up the other side. Boone reluctantly lent a hand and pulled him up.