Free State Of Dodge

by Javan Bonds

  Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Daddy was right; it’s already happening. “Why are you going to confiscate guns? Nobody has been shot,” Jackson asked without even planning to speak and tried to hide the alarm in his voice.

  The guardsman looked him squarely in the eye and said in the same emotionless tone in which he had been speaking since he had arrived, “I did not know this. We are not enacting martial law to end violent crime in the area but to prevent it.”

  That sounded reasonable, but Nazi laws had sounded reasonable until they started cramming Jews on trains. Jackson was freaking out. He knew he needed to go see his dad; he just needed to think up a good excuse to leave. He said the first thing that came to him. “I got you. I reckon I’ll run to the house. I was just excited when Redstone called me and said the cavalry had arrived. I’m gonna stop by the grocery store and see if they have any Copenhagen left. Does your wife need anything?” He looked at Redstone, and even though Redstone knew he didn’t dip anymore, the grocery store was the only place of business he could think of near the pawnshop.

  Redstone sarcastically said, “Yeah, pick me up a gallon of ice cream.”

  They both knew there wouldn’t be any ice cream in freezers, which had been powerless for over a week; Jackson meekly smiled even though his eyes were screaming. He stepped forward to shake his friend’s hand and quickly stepped back to make his way down the hall and to the exit as he said, “I’ll look, man. See you.”

  “See you,” said Redstone as Jackson disappeared into the hallway. He knew where Jackson was really going, and he would’ve gone with him if this Sherman dude weren’t there.

  He was almost through the door when Sherman asked, “There’s a grocery store in the vicinity? We’ll need to procure foodstuffs from there as well. We have vouchers as payment.”

  Of course they had damn vouchers for this and everything else they wanted. This stupid bastard had not done his homework, and Redstone said without turning around, “We’ll get on that tomorrow. I’m going home and going to bed.”

  The guardsman rushed to say, “You forgot to leave the ke—”

  Redstone stopped him as he exited the room and turned with his finger outstretched. “On the desk!” He wanted to end the sentence with “dumbass” but decided it might not be good idea to insult their new military governor.

  “Very good, sir. We’ll get set up here, and I’ll see you tomorrow,” the guardsman said as Redstone opened the front door.

  “Yeah, whatever,” he said as he shut the door behind him. He thought about going over to the pawnshop but found that sleep was more important. He probably wouldn’t know what to do anyway. He just hoped the Pikes had everything under control. As he fell into his truck, he thought about calling Jackson but knew he would not answer because he was in so much of a hurry.

  ◆◆◆

  From the moment Jackson passed the grocery store entrance, he began frantically tapping his horn and continued doing so until he was in front of the pawnshop. Since it was summer in Alabama, almost every occupied building’s front doors were open, because there was no electricity. Old Ben was standing in the open door with a confused look. When Jackson’s truck was almost in the middle of the parking lot, he slammed on the brakes, threw open the door, jumped out, and made a beeline for the door and his father.

  “What seems to be the problem, young man?” asked Old Ben in his usual melancholy tone.

  “Come on, and you can both hear it!” Jackson yelled to him as he met him at the door and ran past him. As he entered and made his way to the bar, he saw that his father was sitting on his stool at the far end, squinting through his glasses as he worked on a pistol. “Daddy!” Jackson yelled as he closed on his father’s position, which he immediately knew was overkill because the store was quiet enough for his father to hear him whisper from outside.

  Without looking up from his work, Jeff sarcastically asked, “Can I help you, sir?” Over the past few years, Jackson and his father had discussed how to inconspicuously warn the other over the airwaves of any kind of emergency that would require them to get home right away. They had decided on a phrase that had been used by Dodge High School students for as long as anyone could remember to signify that they would not be in this town after they graduated and would make something of themselves, even though most still lived in the county if not the town. Jackson wished he could have texted his father the phrase as he left town hall. But even if he had been able to, he was afraid his father would head straight home, and he knew that Jeff would probably want to load up guns and ammunition before it was all confiscated. Not knowing what else to say, and figuring it would get Jeff’s attention, Jackson said, “Get out of Dodge!”

  This instantly alerted Jeff, who looked up with raised eyebrows, placed the pistol on the bar, and stood. “What’s wrong? Is your mom OK? Are you OK?” Jeff rapidly fired questions at Jackson as his son caught his breath.

  “It’s happening just the way you said,” Jackson said between gasps as Jeff gave him a quizzical look.

  Old Ben walked from behind Jackson and said in a confused tone, “Slow down, young man. Start from the beginning.”

  Jackson, who was still breathing hard, gave a thumbs-up and stepped to lean against the bar. He inhaled and began. “The National Guard is here, and they are going to start taking guns.”

  “Why did they come out here? Why not just stay in one of the larger cities?” Jeff asked.

  Jackson straightened and continued catching his breath. He had not run that fast since his senior year of football and honestly could not remember the last time he had run at all. “They said because this is a centralized location or something.” It actually made complete sense; Dodge was about eight miles from each city. Everyone in Dodge already knew this, and Jeff gave a slight nod to say he understood. Jeff was about to ask another question, but Jackson cut him off before he could speak. “That don’t matter. They’re bound to start scouting around, so we ought to get the hell out of here!”

  Jeff’s hands remained on his hips, as if he would rather stand there and argue about why the military was there (and with old Ben there, he would be able to do that for days) but decided that flight would be a lot smarter than fight in this situation. He dropped from his attack stance and thrust his finger to each objective as he barked commands. “Jackson, start grabbing rifles and take them out to my truck.” He gestured to a stash of paper bags beside him and continued. “Mr. Kennard, start filling these bags with ammo, and then we will work on the pistols.” As his son started moving toward the racks of long guns, Jeff thought of something and quickly said, “Wait! Leave a few of the bolt actions and twenty-twos, and we will leave some stuff over here to make it look as if we didn’t just pack up and run.”

  Jackson nodded his head in the affirmative, and old Ben moved to get the top bag off the stack.

  There were not an excessive number of firearms or amounts of ammunition left in the store, because business had become steadier since the crash than it had been in over a year. So it did not take them more than twenty minutes to load up all the guns. And besides, most of the .22 rifles, bolt actions, rare-caliber guns and revolvers, and some ammo, had been taken. The bed of Jeff’s truck would not even be close to full. He threw a tarp over the pile of materials, made sure it was tied down in each designated spot, and, without looking from his path to the driver’s door of his truck, he spoke to both other men just as Jackson came around from the back corner, where he had finished locking up the store.

  “Jackson, follow us to the house,” Jeff said. After Jackson had replied in the affirmative, Jeff continued. “Mr. Kennard, if you would ride with me, I’m sure my wife would enjoy your company, and you would be welcome to stay with us as long as you like.”

  The Jedi Master thought about it for a moment and started walking to the passenger-side door. “That is hospitable of you, Jeff. I accept, and thank you for your offer. With these newly arrived fascists, my lectures will undoubtedly lead to my incarcerati
on, and I would love to see Mrs. Pike again.”

  It surprised Jackson at first that old Ben had not referred to his father as “young man,” and he almost laughed aloud when he realized the Jedi Master had referred to his father casually and his mother formally, just like everyone else. This was one of those extremely rare moments when Jackson could see past all of the legends that had been told about the old man and could see him as an average person.

  They all reached their respective vehicles, opened their doors, and climbed in. Old Ben rode shotgun with Jeff, and Jackson waited for his father to lead him out of the parking lot. They took the back way home.

  CHAPTER 13

  July 15

  THIS BASTARD MAY not have done his homework on the area but only because he was busy reading up on this damn kid, whom he knew more about than the kid’s own mother: his birthday, his entire immediate family’s birthdays, everything about his high school, the other stupid yokels he associated with, and hell, even which girls he liked. He would not have doubted that some of these girls were cousins with the kid, but he had not more than glanced at reports on the extended family, and he wasn’t really worried about the breeding habits of these Podunk rednecks. When the target had miraculously escaped and Sherman had been tasked with studying and finding him, he had begun devouring information he thought would be pertinent to the DHS.

  He had gone through so many names, he would have to stop and think just to remember the one he was born with, and he was so used to using fake names that hearing “Sherman” would get his attention before his real name. He did not want to be in the National Guard, but his identity and the identities of the agents unloading the trucks had been a squad of National Guardsmen who had recently been killed in Afghanistan, so it would not be difficult to attach their pictures to these names. Sherman frankly did not give a shit; he just wanted to hurry up and either kidnap this target or put a bullet in his head, so he could get out of Deliverance-ville.

  After he had read up on him, Sherman knew the first thing the kid would do after he escaped was make his way home. Why did the stupid cousin fuckers believe that home was the safest place to be? Sherman would show him it wasn’t. This pushover of a sheriff or county cop or whatever the hell he was would be easy to manipulate, and Sherman was hoping to be out of this hillbilly state within the week.

  He had not met the mayor yet, but he knew that even if he wasn’t the retard the cop was, anyone could be manipulated with threats or bribes. When one of the other pretend guardsmen entered the room, delivered Sherman’s briefcase laptop, and set it in the middle of the desk, he stood rigid at attention and barked, “Sir, we are going to—”

  Sherman interrupted. “Cut the Full Metal Jacket shit, Sergeant Alvarez. Nobody here cares about your acting skills.”

  The other agent relaxed, dropping his hands to his sides but keeping the same stony stare on his face as he relented. “Understood, sir. We were planning on bringing most of the food into the room across the hall, use this room as our CIC, and use the room with the attached bathroom as our barracks.” The other agent looked to the wall left of him and said, “There is another large room on this side of the hallway, where we can sort confiscated materials.”

  “OK then,” said Sherman. “Tell a couple other agents to set up one of the generators, so I can get on the network to get some more information.” He gestured to the laptop on the desk.

  ◆◆◆

  Redstone sat up in bed and looked out the window, seeing the moon through the blinds and knowing he could not have been sleeping for more than a couple of hours. Why was he awake, anyway? It pissed him off when he randomly woke, and tonight he was ten times angrier. Something had to have awakened him. He listened for any reason and could hear voices. It was his wife and a man. The conversation sounded calm, but why would his wife be having any male visitors in the middle of the night? Was she cheating on him? His sleep-deprived mind was searching for answers as he slowly came into consciousness. That’s it. I’ll walk in there, shoot her boyfriend, shoot her, and then come back to bed.

  He grabbed his pistol from the nightstand, where he had been keeping it the past few nights, and walked to his bedroom door. He paused as he reached for the doorknob and could hear his wife laughing about something her boyfriend had just said. He gently turned the knob, eased the door open to make no sound, and walked down the short hallway to the living room. He had already played out the scene in his barely conscious mind: he would walk around the corner, ask what was going on, and, after she admitted this was the real father of her child, he would put three or four bullets into the guy. And after she jumped up and declared her hate for Redstone, he would double tap her and go back to sleep.

  As the barefoot Redstone snuck around the corner wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, with a pistol at his side, the man looked up at him. Redstone immediately thought it was weird, because his wife didn’t like older men.

  “Jackson told me about your new friends,” said Jeff, seemingly unsurprised by the pistol. Redstone was immediately embarrassed at the thought of Jeff and Whitney as he came to his senses and realized Jeff had come to see him.

  It must be pretty late. “What time is it?” he asked as he walked around the recliner and fell into it.

  “It’s only nine thirty!”

  Redstone just sat there blankly, and when his sleepy mind did not come up with a response for a few seconds, Jeff smirked and continued. “So when is the sleepover?”

  Redstone wasn’t used to being the butt of the joke, since he always had some smartass come back. And hearing Whetstone snicker at his expense seemed to wake him up. “Friday night. We’re going to have pillow fights and watch Grease. You should see if your mom will let you come over.” Redstone leaned back with a smile, satisfied that he had leveled the playing field.

  Whitney let out an exaggerated sigh, and Jeff looked on the brink of exploding with laughter. His demeanor almost instantly turned serious as he asked, “And what about this martial law deal?”

  Redstone leaned forward, clasped his hands, and said, “We ain’t talked about that too much yet, but they want me up there in the morning. Something about ‘decisions of this magnitude’ and shit.”

  “So who all is going to be up there tomorrow?”

  “They’re pretty much making me show up, Bobbie Jo will be there because she thinks she has to know about everything, and Webb.” He paused and raised his eyebrows, as if he needed to state the obvious. “Oh, and them Peace Corps dudes.”

  Jeff raised his face to the ceiling and said with a hint of a grin on his face, “Well, once they empty the pawnshop, I ain’t got no guns to give them.”

  Redstone’s face cracked with a smile as Jeff looked at him. He knew they had cleaned out most of the guns, and what was left would not have been worth taking anyway. They had been added to Jeff’s stash, and the Pikes were as close as family to Redstone. His lips were sealed.

  Before Jeff could continue, Redstone said, “I don’t think these retards know there’s a pawnshop. Hell, they didn’t even know there was a grocery store here until we told them.”

  Jackson must’ve skipped over some things, because Jeff looked genuinely surprised at this. “If I was going to set up camp in a disaster area and stay there for a while, I would learn a little bit about the place first.”

  Redstone shrugged and grunted out a sound that was similar to “I don’t know.” Even though he had not given this subject much thought, he knew Jeff’s mind was already working and would probably come to a conclusion before Redstone made it back to bed.

  Jeff stood and glanced at his watch. “I reckon I’ll get on. Mrs. Pike might lock me out of the house again; us old people go to bed pretty early. Just pay close attention at your meeting tomorrow, and let me know what they’re planning.”

  Redstone mentally shivered as he stood, trying to get the image of Jeff and Mrs. Pike in the same bed out of his head. He stepped forward to shake Jeff’s hand and automatical
ly said, “See you.”

  Jeff said, “See you. Maybe next time you have company, you can put on some pants.”

  Redstone sheepishly laughed as he looked down from Jeff’s sarcastic grin, and he could even hear a quiet giggle from his wife, who had lost interest in the conversation faster than his oldest kid would have started reading again.

  Jeff gave a final wave as the screen door bounced shut behind him. Redstone stopped at the recliner to grab his pistol and turned to make his way back to the bedroom and God’s perfect gift of sleep. He said to his wife without looking at her, “I’ll remember that.”

  She blew air through her cheeks to tell him she would laugh at him anytime she wanted, and she was not scared. She gestured with her hand, as if to shoo him back to bed, and even though he was pissed that he had just lost some pillow time, he was going to rip all of the joys from the next nine hours he could.

  CHAPTER 14

  July 16

  OH MY GOODNESS! It took her a few seconds to realize what the sound was, being as it was a rare noise lately: a car horn. Linda ran to the front door, looked through the screen, and saw a police truck parked in the road, the driver repeatedly blowing the horn.

  “Well, you see anything?” The mayor asked his wife.

  She responded, “It’s the police truck.”

  “It’s probably the Stone kid. Just ask him what he wants.”

  Without electricity, all Alabamians with a lick of sense kept their doors or windows open during these dog days of summer. The Cobb family wasn’t a house of morons, so Linda had only to unlatch the screen door and push it open. “Yes, officer?”

  Redstone told the mayor’s wife there was really no need for her to talk so loudly. Without power or much gas, there were almost no modern machines in operation, so she probably could have whispered, and Redstone would have heard her through his open window. He had stopped pressing the horn and said at a normal volume, “Where’s Webb?”