by A. American
Satisfied it was far enough out, he got out the big bowie knife that Morgan had given him to cut some branches to cover the truck with. Once he had it covered enough, he looked back toward the house. The cache that he had made out in the woods behind the house was to the south of him, and he was going to try to find his way to it. Thad used the knife to cut a small trail to the cache site. That way if they had to get to it in a hurry they could. After about an hour of cutting his way through the bush he came to the fence. He had overshot the cache site and walked down the fence until he found the tracks from the truck.
Finally locating the cache, Thad started back out toward the Scout again, cutting a trail. After about twenty minutes, he cut his first trail and connected the two to make a good trail to the truck.
Thad was in the kitchen drinking a glass of water when Anita came in. He told her what he had done and why and what he was going to do with the pigs to save on the feed. As he was talking to her, her eyes suddenly got wide.
Anita pointed to the door, “Out! Get outside and take your clothes off!” She ordered.
Thad looked at her, “What?”
“You got ticks all over your coat! Get outside and get them clothes off, then you need a bath. You ain’t coming back in here till you do.”
Thad looked down at his coat and saw two ticks on it. He started to reach up and pick them off, but Anita slapped his hand.
“Out!” She shouted and pointed to the door.
• • •
After getting Mike’s jaw cleaned and sewed up, Doc had him lay down on one of the cots. Don was still on the floor raising as much hell as he could in his trussed-up condition. Sarge pulled him upright in his chair and started to untie him, making clear he wasn’t in the mood for any of his shit at the moment. Ted was still up at the head of the little creek, keeping an eye on the back door. Once Don was untied, Sarge went outside and sat down in one of the chairs on the little deck. Doc found him sitting there with his head in his hands.
“You all right, Sarge?”
Sarge looked up and said, “We shouldn’t have gone in there. That was a dumbass stunt and it almost got Mike killed.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, man, it was just a sneak ’n’ peek. It shouldn’t have been a big deal.”
Sarge looked up at Doc and said, “But it sure as shit turned into a big deal, didn’t it? I should have known better. These assholes have been jerking off for years thinking about what they would do given the chance. We aren’t dealing with a bunch of ragheads from some third-world shithole.”
“Maybe not, but since the shoe is now on the other foot, why don’t we take a move from their playbook? I mean, we’ve known since Vietnam you don’t win this kind of fight going head-to-head.”
Sarge sat there staring at the old worn boards under his feet, and after a moment he stood up and put a hand on Doc’s shoulder. “That’s a damn fine idea, son. No more head-on shit. We’re going to be like hyenas biting the lion’s ass every time he ain’t looking. And I promise you one thing: I won’t ever put anyone in position like that again if I can help it.”
Doc laughed. “Shit, Sarge, we’re all big boys. We know what can happen. All of us have been down range. Let’s just make it hurt.”
Sarge smiled and gave Doc a nod. “I feel like a beer, want one?”
“Sure, why the hell not.”
Sarge went to the back of the old shack with Doc in tow. Kneeling down on the deck, he pulled a string out from between two boards and pulled up a milk crate full of Bass. Doc started to laugh, and over his shoulder, Sarge said, “If that fat fuck inside had found it, there wouldn’t be any left.” He took three of them from the crate and lowered it back into the water. He handed one to Doc and went around to the front and opened the door. Don was sitting in a chair, staring at the floor. “Hey,” Sarge barked, and when Don looked up, Sarge threw the bottle to him. This brought an immediate smile to Don’s round face. Sarge shut the door and went back out to the deck and sat down.
“You think Ted can come back?” Doc asked.
Sarge was taking a pull on his bottle. “Yeah, go get him.”
Doc climbed into one of the boats and headed down the creek to get Ted. Sarge sat back down in his chair to finish his beer. It wasn’t long before Don came out the door with an empty bottle in his hand and an expectant look on his face. Sarge looked up at him and said, “What?”
Don looked around the deck. “Uh, you got any more?”
“That’s it for today, my friend,” Sarge said, then turned up his bottle and drained it.
“One beer? What the hell good is that?” Don whined.
“As good as it gets,” Sarge replied as he stood up and headed for the door. He went inside to check on Mike. Mike was still on the cot asleep. Doc must have given him something, Sarge thought. He pulled a chair over to the side of the cot and sat down. He was sitting there with his hands folded and his elbows on his knees when Ted and Doc came in.
“You all right, boss?” Ted asked as he came through the door.
Sarge looked back over his shoulder and said, “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Don’t blame yourself, boss. Shit happens; at least we’re all still alive,” Ted said.
“How’s he doing?” Doc asked, coming over to kneel down beside the cot.
“Sleeping like a baby,” Sarge said as he stood up.
“Yeah, an ugly fucking baby,” Ted said.
Sarge looked down at Mike, then back to Ted, “You ain’t shittin’. The best part of him got smeared on some Charmin.”
Ted started to laugh, and without looking up Doc said, “Damn, you guys are hard. He can’t even defend himself.”
“Yeah, Doc, you should be warned: don’t pass out around the old man or you’ll wake up in some bad shit,” Ted said.
After Doc had finished checking on his ward, he, Ted and Sarge sat at the table. They discussed their options, how to harass the DHS goons while limiting their exposure to them. They came up with a number of ideas, all of which had varying degrees of risk and complexity. IEDs were considered the safest way to engage their enemy, but triggering was the problem. They didn’t want to accidentally harm civilians, so if they went that route they would have to use command-detonated devices.
The next-best consideration was sniping. Sarge had his M1A and could drive tacks with it out to nearly five hundred yards. This would eliminate the civilian casualty issues but ran the risk of being engaged by a flanking force or a sweeping action after the initial engagement. The last thing they talked about was basic ambushes. It was agreed that this could be a viable tactic on select targets. Single vehicles or small groups were deemed acceptable targets. Anything with armor was out, as was anything with a large security presence. Air cover was an absolute deal breaker; if air cover was ever present, then whatever action they were planning was to be abandoned. The colonel had told them they were working on a solution for the air issue. It was the key: they had to assume air superiority for their plan to work.
“Have you guys heard anything on the radio from Morgan?” Sarge asked as the conversation was winding down.
“No, not a word. Mike and I were just talking about him yesterday wondering where he was and what was going on with him,” Ted said.
“Is the computer still hooked up on the other rig?” Sarge asked.
“Yep, it’s listening. Nothing yet.”
“Well, keep listening,” Sarge said.
The group wasn’t going to do anything until Mike was mobile again, so they had to find other ways to occupy their time. Sarge decided he was going to wash his clothes. When he said this to the two guys, they said they wanted to wash theirs as well. Sarge told them to follow him outside and he would show them the laundry facility. Sarge’s laundry facility consisted of a big old galvanized washtub, one of those industrial-size potato mashers and a bag of the ch
eapest laundry powder he had been able to find.
Out on the deck, Sarge dumped his dirty clothes in the tub, scooped water from the creek with a bucket and poured it in. Adding a scoop of powder he started to pound the hell out of them. “And you don’t need much powder either,” Sarge said as he was working the masher. When he was done, he put them in a mesh laundry bag and hung them in the creek for the “rinse” cycle.
Ted and Doc just stood there and watched the whole presentation, and when Sarge was done Doc said, “You gotta be shitting me.”
Sarge looked up. “Well, just run into town and hit the laundromat, then.”
Both Doc and Ted did their clothes the same way, and when they were done there were three bags of clothes hanging off the deck in the creek. Doc said he would stay outside on watch for a while, so Ted went in to find Sarge messing with the radios. He had a set of headphones on and was scanning the bands to see what he could hear. Ted knew that the old man was taking what happened to Mike hard and he wanted to get him outside for a little while. He suggested the two of them go fishing and after a little prodding, Sarge finally agreed.
Both of them were wearing civilian clothes when they got in the boat. Sarge had the SPW lying in the bottom of the boat covered with a tarp, and they both had carbines and sidearms. They weren’t going to go far, just up to the mouth of the creek where Sarge said he always caught big channel cats. For bait they had a can of SPAM. That and couple of poles and they were in business. Sarge asked Don if he wanted to come, but to his surprise he didn’t. After all that bitching about being stuck in the cabin for so long and he turns down a chance to get out. Figures, Sarge thought. Sarge told Doc to keep an eye on him, and he and Ted headed up the creek for a little fishing.
They anchored inside the creek, keeping close to the bank to try to provide as much cover as possible. The two of them sat and fished for a while, and the fishing was pretty good. In fewer than two hours, they had eight nice cats in the live well. Sarge decided they had enough, and they headed back for the cabin. As they pulled up to the shack, Sarge was pissed not to see Doc.
“Where the hell is he?” Sarge growled as Ted tied up the boat. He went to the door and threw it open. Doc was kneeling down on the floor, and Mike was beside him.
“What the fuck is going on in here?” Sarge barked.
When Doc looked back, Sarge could see they were leaning over Don, who was sprawled on the floor. The little shack had a strange smell, something antiseptic.
“He found that shine we took off them pirates; he drank two pints of it straight down,” Doc said.
“Holy shit, I forgot all about that shit, where was it?” Sarge said.
Mike looked up, his bandaged jaw preventing him from speaking, and pointed to the shelf under the little kitchen sink.
Chapter 14
The next morning I got up and had breakfast with the girls. This was going to be their first encounter with fried mush, and I was extremely interested to see how they would take it. I was in the kitchen when they came in, and the smell of bacon filled the room. Mel was still asleep; this would be her introduction to the dish as well. Last night before going to bed I had taken a few minutes to boil up some corn meal, the first step in making fried mush, and put it in the fridge before going to bed.
There was a twelve-inch cast-iron skillet on the old Butterfly stove, and I had dropped two big spoonfuls of bacon grease into it. Cutting slices of the boiled cornmeal about a half inch thick, I laid them into the grease, and they landed with a satisfying sizzle. I lightly browned both sides and then took them from the grease and put them on a paper plate, glad I had stocked up on those. Lee Ann and Taylor came in. Taylor loves bacon, and I knew the smell of it drifting through the house would get her out of bed.
As she came into the kitchen she said, “Mmm, bacon.”
“Not quite, but just as good,” I replied.
Lee Ann walked over and looked at the plate, “What is that?” she asked in her best disgusted-teenager voice.
“It’s fried mush,” I said with a shitty grin on my face.
“There is no way I’m eating that,” Lee Ann said.
I knew that was coming and probably shouldn’t have told her what it was called. I took a piece from the paper plate and put it on another, then drizzled honey over it. “Here, just try it,” I said, handing her the plate.
She took the plate and eyed it suspiciously, looked at Taylor and said, “You try it,” and handed her the plate.
Taylor took the plate and smelled it. “Smells like bacon,” she said, then picked up a fork and cut a corner off and stuffed it in her mouth. A huge grin spread across her face. “Tastes like soap,” she said, which is a running joke in our house for something that is good.
Lee Ann had a look on her face that said she didn’t buy it, but took the next plate I prepared. Then I made one for myself and started to eat. She finally took a bite, “Hey, that’s pretty good. What is it?”
I told them what it was and we all had a second piece. By now we were making enough noise that Little Bit came out, rubbing her eyes and dragging Bobby Jack, her stuffed monkey, behind her. Bobby Jack was a constant fixture with her, it was one of those stuffed animals you go to the mall for. Go in the store, pick out a carcass and then they stuff a tube up its ass and pump it full of polyester foam. I guessed if kids ever really thought about that process, the bear shop would have gone out of business. I felt a sudden pang for the stupid stuffed animal shop. The world that had supported something so far removed from keeping your family safe and feeding them was gone. And for all its flaws, I missed it.
She came over to the island and climbed up onto a stool. “What’s that?” she asked, looking at the plate.
Before I could say anything, her sisters shouted, “It’s mush!” Anything they could do to try and torment her.
She gave them both a look then asked, “Is it good?”
The girls finished off what was left on the plate. Fortunately I had put two slabs aside for Mel and I went into our room to see if she was awake. “You up?”
From under the covers came a muffled reply. “It’s cold, did you start a fire yet?”
“Yeah, the girls are sitting in front of it now. I made breakfast and the coffee is ready,” I replied.
As she pulled the covers off her head she asked, “When are you going to get that stove set up in here?”
This was on her constant “nag” list. I had the wood stove but had never gotten around to putting it in our room. I guessed I was going to have to break down and do it.
“As soon as I get some time. I have to help Danny get some water going at his place and I have to take some stuff to an old lady at the end of the road who’s having a hard time. Maybe tomorrow if nothing goes to hell today,” I told her.
“What are you taking and who is it for?”
“The old lady that has the forty acres down past Danny and Bobbie. She’s been eating cat food, so I’m taking her some of the venison from last night’s deer and some other stuff.”
“Miss Janice? She’s been eating cat food?” Mel had a look of disgust on her face.
“Yeah, can’t imagine it either,” I said.
“Don’t give away too much. We have three girls to take care of.”
“Yeah, I had that talk with Mark last night.”
A chorus of “Danny’s here!” from the living room let me know that he was here to help pull the pump. I walked into the living room as he came in with a “Yo,” his standard greeting. Little Bit jumped on him and he picked her up and played with the monkey for a minute, then set her down.
“You ready?” he asked.
“I was just heading out. Let’s get this thing broke apart and see what we can do at your place,” I said.
We went out the sliding glass door into the backyard. “What the fuck, man, you kill another one?” Danny said whe
n he saw the skinned deer hanging from the tree in front of the shop.
“Yeah, Meathead jumped it last night and I dropped it. I wasn’t looking to, but it was running right at me. Let’s cut a quarter off for you guys when we’re done.”
Danny just shook his head. “People are going to hate you.”
“Let ’em hate. We’re taking a quarter to Miss Janice down the road from you too. We’ll have to bone that one out and cut it up for her, though,” I said.
“She out of food?”
“Been eating cat food,” I said.
“Shit!” was all he said.
It took us about fifteen minutes to pull the pump, when I installed it I had used unions for both connects to make replacing it easier. I carried the pump out to the Suburban and when I came back around the house, Danny was already cutting the deer up.
“Thank God it’s winter, I don’t know what we’re going to do in the summer. Damn sure won’t be able to hang ’em like this,” he said.
We worked together to cut a quarter off for him, then we cut a front shoulder off and carried it over to the cleaning table. Working together, we cut all the meat from the bones and put it in freezer bags, making sure to cut all the pieces small. When that was done, we wrapped Danny’s hindquarter in some butcher paper and loaded it in the truck with the freezer bags.
Danny headed out on his Polaris and I drove the Suburban. On the way down to his house, Mark came out of his drive in the Mule. Danny stopped in the road. I stopped behind him and walked up to Mark. He and Danny were shaking hands when I walked up.
“Hey, Mark, you heard anything about the old man?” I asked.
“Morning, Morg. He’s still at the doc’s house. He’s keeping him there. Doc said the wound is healing, but he’s still worried about infection.”
“How much of the leg did he lose?” Danny asked.
“Doc managed to save it just below the knee. He still has the joint, not that it will do him much good. I think the prosthetics industry is probably closed now. He did say that tourniquet you put on saved his life.”
