by Mark Tufo
“Did you say something Paul?” Dennis asked. He was bringing up the rear, making sure some super zealous Stop and Shop guard wasn’t on patrol this far out.
“No, nothing, my friend,” Paul said as he slowly shook his head.
Whoa, Dennis thought, he almost looked like the old Paul I used to know, for a second anyway. Albeit a tired one, but my old friend nonetheless.
By the time they hit the banks of the Walpole Stream, any chance of surprise had been crushed; not that that had been the plan, anyway. A guard on the roof spotted them, on their old stomping grounds. A sharp pang of longing for the old times almost made Paul’s steps falter. The guard appeared to be speaking into a walkie-talkie, most likely warning the guards ahead of their advance. The three crossed the stream in silence. As they started through the dense undergrowth, a voice, amplified through a megaphone, began to speak.
“Go away! Don’t bother coming this way! All intruders will be shot!” The voice stopped, as if in anticipation of a response. Dennis had been about to tell Paul that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea when Paul finally did respond.
“Don’t shoot!” Paul yelled through the bush. “We came here to trade.”
“Trade? What do we have to trade?” Dennis mumbled to himself.
“You have nothing we want! Go away!” the voice boomed.
“I think you’ll be mighty interested in this,” Paul yelled but not so loudly because they had walked a lot closer to where the dense brush stopped and the back alley of the supermarket began.
“If you come through those bushes, we’ll shoot!” the voice threatened, although it also quavered with a little doubt.
“If you shoot us, then you will surely miss out on what I have to offer,” Paul said as he stepped out of the brush with both of his hands raised up in the air.
“Get the rest of them out here with you,” the supermarket leader said as he leveled his weapon at Paul’s chest. Dennis and Dewey stepped out of the undergrowth almost at the same time. Dennis took quick note and noticed at least eight well-armed men with all of their weapons pointed directly at them. Even if they were crappy shots, their numbers and positioning were far superior.
“We’re dead men,” Dennis said sideways to Dewey. Paul walked directly up to the leader with his right hand outstretched. Dennis wasn’t sure if the man would shake his hand or just blow it off. Most of the guns were now trained directly on Paul, as if it were some sort of elaborate trap.
“Don’t bother with the handshake, son. They don’t mean much these days,” the leader said. Paul stopped short, the smile rapidly fading from his face. More guards came, hauling ass from around the corner. There had to have been at least fifteen of them now and they all looked pissed off; probably because they had to run to get there.
Old National Guardsmen, Dennis figured. They had some idea of what to do with the weapons but no discipline when it came to personal management. Most of them looked like they were trying their best to clean the store out before the weekend.
“Alright, if you won’t take my hand, at least take my deal,” Paul said.
“I’m listening, son, but it doesn’t look like you have much to offer.”
“What I’m offering is beyond value, sir. I’m offering you your lives,” Paul said matter-of-factly.
“Our lives!?” the leader laughed. The rest of the posse followed suit. “What are you? Some kind of religious fruit? Are you one of those born-again fucks? Did you come here to spread the word of God? Have you looked around, you dumb ass? God’s nowhere to be found!” the man angrily shouted.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Paul said as he put his hands up. “I mean your physical lives.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sonny. So you had better get to the point real quick. From where I stand, I have eighteen or more fully automated weapons pointing at you and your little party. The only reason you’re not dead yet is that it’s been a little slow around here lately, and we were looking for a little change of pace. So if you want to breathe a little while longer, and keep your body in its present condition, you know, free from bullets and all, then you had better go right back to the bowl you were smoking, or tell me what you want before I say no!” As the man yelled, veins began to form along his brow and his cheeks blazed red. A few more armed guards ran around to see what all the ruckus was about.
“I want the store,” Paul stated as if he were asking for fries with his hamburger. The leader began to laugh almost uncontrollably. Dennis figured when he stopped laughing, the bullets would begin flying.
“Well, I’ve got to thank you, son. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while,” the man said as he wiped some laughter tears from his eyes. “Whaddya think, boys? Should we give him the store?”
One of the guards on the roof yelled down, “Sure, why the hell not? They seem like nice enough kids. Our families don’t really need the food and shelter anyway.” That got the leader going again. When he stopped, his face became much more grievous.
“See, son? Therein lies our dilemma; our families and friends are in that store. That store is our lives. If we were to just hand it over to you, we’d be sealing our fates and it’s not really the type of fate we’re looking for. So I’m going to tell you one last time, take your two little friends and go back to the wacky-tabacky you’ve been smoking and maybe we’ll throw you a box of Twinkies.”
The same man who spoke earlier stood up and grabbed his belly. “Ah, I’m sorry, sir, I finished those off Monday.” That earned another round of chuckles from the men, but the leader was through. Something in this kid’s eyes made him nervous and he just wanted him out of here.
“Sir, before I leave,” Paul said, “could you tell me how many men guard this fine establishment?” Sweat started to form under the leader’s arms; something was wrong but he wasn’t quite sure.
“Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but we have around fifty armed guards.” That was an embellishment, times two, but he wanted to make this punk kid as nervous as he was.
“Oh! So you have about twenty to twenty-five men back here, which means that you have another twenty-five men up front. Sounds like you’ve got the situation well in hand.” For the first time, the leader took visual inventory of all of his men. Then it dawned on him, this was ALL of his men.
“Lenny, who is guarding the store?” Cold panic settled in the pit of the leader’s stomach.
“I-I-I thought Burt was?” Lenny stammered.
“Burt’s right next to you! Go check on the store, NOW!!!” the leader screamed. He didn’t need a bullhorn anymore.
“Don’t worry, sir, they’re being well taken care of,” Paul chimed in. Ice formed in the leader’s stomach as he slowly turned back towards his adversary.
“What do you want?” the leader asked slowly and softly, anger and fear coursing through his veins.
“I told you. I want the store,” Paul said matter-of-factly.
“If you harm anybody in there, I’ll kill you. If this is some kind of joke, I’ll kill you, if…”
“Calm down, Mister. Nobody’s hurt and this isn’t a joke. Right now, I have about sixty armed militia in your store as we speak. Now, I’m going to only ask you once. If I don’t get the right answer, I’m going to press this little button and people in the store will start dying.” Paul produced a little, hand-held device, no bigger than an old Atari joystick. It had a large red button on the top with Paul’s thumb poised right over it.
“This is a radio-controlled device. Don’t worry; it’s not attached to a bomb, the receiver is attached to one of my men in the store. You see, he has a little box with a light on it, if the light goes red, he knows it means something went down out here, and he’s to take the store by force. If it doesn’t light up, everything’s cool. Are you with me so far? Good! So put down your weapons, now!” Paul yelled.
The leader was in shock. He had been in command for so long, he had no clue how to take an order.
Katy, I’m sorry I let you down, the man thought to himself. For an instant, Paul thought the man might be suicidal, but the moment passed with no lead flying.
“Put your weapons down!” The man shouted as he bent over to place his M-16 on the ground gingerly. “Sonny, if this is some kind of bluff, then you sure are some kind of poker player.”
“Sir,” Paul said with calmness overtaking his previous anger, “this is no card game, and I’m not bluffing. Now tell those two men on the roof to lower their weapons because I am beginning to lose my patience.”
The leader couldn’t figure it out. Paul’s eyes never left his own, yet he was still able to ascertain that the détente wasn’t over yet. This kid was dangerous and he had no desire to test him anymore.
“Harry! Burt! Put down those weapons now! I won’t say it again. Or I’ll shoot you myself!” the leader shouted.
“Corporal Jackson! Get the troops out here and keep these men company. This fine gentlemen and I are going into the store to talk business,” Paul said as he put his arm around the leader and headed towards the front of the store.
Corporal Jackson turned back towards the woods they had departed only moments earlier. “Bravo platoon! Front and center!” he shouted. And, as if by magic, forty or so well-camouflaged and heavily armed men came out from their hiding spots. All of their weapons were fully trained on the slack-jawed Guardsmen. The leader looked up at the roof with disapproval flashing across his face, as if to say, how could you let this force sneak up unnoticed?
Harry and Burt quickly looked at their feet, as if they were the most important things on the planet. Dennis was in as much amazement as the conquered. He had walked mere paces away from the majority of them and hadn’t noticed a thing.
“Paul, how much training did you do up there in Vail?” Dennis asked as he ran to catch up to his leader. Dennis’ respect for Paul had just grown by leaps and bounds.
“Enough, Dennis, enough,” was Paul’s answer. “Corporal Jackson,” Paul said as he turned his head around.
“Sir,” came the quick reply.
“Safe the weapons and redistribute them back to their former owners.”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
The leader was hoping that just maybe they would live to see another day. The three men rounded the corner to the front of the store as if they were longtime friends and not enemies that, only moments earlier, were about to blow each others’ heads off. The leader saw that Paul was not bluffing. There were well-armed and well-disciplined men standing guard over the huddled masses in the store. The people were frightened, but otherwise unharmed. The leader’s wife looked up from the boy she had huddled in her arms. His heart sank. If he had done anything wrong that would incur harm to his family, he doubted if he could ever forgive himself.
“Sir, I don’t even know your name,” Paul said as he moved a pace or so away. That broke the man's locked gaze with his wife.
“Dom… Major Domino of the 12th Brigade, Massachusetts National Guard,” the man said as he squared his shoulders to the new usurper.
Dennis was just now catching up, trying to process how in the hell Paul had pulled this little mission off. He knew about the rat-sniffer incident, but this was pure genius.
“As you can see, Major, we have no interest in harming any of you. If that had been our purpose, not one of you would be standing.”
“You don’t understand, Paul… Is it Paul?” the major stammered.
“I prefer ‘Colonel,’ Major. Colonel Ginson of the 1st United Earth Marine Corps.
“I’ve never heard of them, Colonel.” The major had a difficult time labeling this kid as a colonel, but he sure planted a whammy on him.
“Don’t worry, Major. You will,” Paul said as he surveyed the survivors who sought refuge in the supermarket. They were mostly old and young, but they all could still serve a purpose. He caught himself doing that more and more; everybody became a pawn in his game. How could he use this or that person to his utmost advantage? And as for sacrificing a pawn now and again, well, that was part of the game too, wasn’t it?
“Colonel, surely you are aware that if you take this store, we won't be able to survive?” The major thought he might be whining a bit and he despised himself for that; he was thinking of his family though, who depended on him for their safety.
“So, that pretty much leaves you with no options, does it not, Major?” Paul replied.
Anger began to flush up through the major’s collar, but before he could begin his outburst, Paul interjected, “So that’s why I am going to offer you an option, Major.”
“I’ve got a feeling that this really isn’t an option.”
“Sure it is. You have the option of leaving here like a band of gypsies and hoping that the next supermarket down the road opens its arms to strangers, much like you did for us.” Paul quickly gazed at the major’s eyes. Shame registered all over them. So much for Sunday school teachings, the major thought. “Or,” Paul hesitated to gauge the man’s reaction.
“Or? Don’t leave me like this. You know you have us over a barrel.”
“Or you join us,” Paul replied as the man snorted.
“Join you? And your band of merry men? That’s pretty funny.”
“Good enough,” Paul said without a hint of being bothered by the slight. “Your men and families are welcome to all the food you can carry, but no shopping carts.” Paul turned to his men. “Get them up! Help them get some food and get them out of here.”
His men began to help some of the older people up.
“Wait!” the major shouted, bringing the men to a halt.
“What is it, Major? You’ve made your choice,” Paul said as he turned.
“Ah wait; I may have been a little hasty in my reply.” Paul completely turned to face the major. “What are your terms, if we stay with you?”
“Every one of your men, you included, will be demoted one rank. I will assign an officer to take command of your squad. You will obey his every command as if I issued it directly. If you cannot abide by these terms, or you disobey any command, I will cut the lot of you, women and children included, from this place.”
“Do you mind if I consult with my men, Colonel?”
“Not at all, Major, but please make it quick. I don’t generally like to be out in the open for any extended amount of time. If any of your men do not like this new arrangement, they are free to go, with as much food as they can carry. You have fifteen minutes Major. Sergeant Bolito, please round up the supplies that I requested earlier.”
“Sir, right away, sir.” The sergeant and a couple of men peeled off from the main group and headed towards the pharmacy for medical supplies. Paul was inspecting the store like a conquering invader, surveying his spoils like from the days of yore, when the major came up behind him.
Paul kept his back to the major, as he inspected a can of Dole pineapple. He peered at it intensely, as though if he stared at it long enough, it might yield all the answers he sought. Paul was tense; a lot hinged on the major’s decision, but Paul did his best to maintain the cool façade he had adopted since the whole, bloody mess began. Without confronting the major, since he feared that by turning to face him, he might give away his true feelings, Paul asked, “Your decision, Major?”
“Well, I can’t say it was easy or unanimous, but call me ‘Captain’.” Paul let out a barely audible sigh of relief.
“And what of the split decision, Captain?”
The newly demoted captain almost rethought his decision. Demoted by this snot-nose, he thought. It was going to take a little time before he got used to it. He had to look out for his family and friends now though; pride be damned. “Uh, there are five of my men who do not wish to stay, C
olonel.”
“Do they have families, Captain?” Paul still hadn’t turned to face him.
“Three of them do, sir. Two just have wives and one has two kids.” Paul’s face twisted in agony. Had the captain stepped to the side, he would have seen the pain that contorted his features.
“Very good, Captain. See that those departing personnel are allowed to take with them all that they can carry.”
“Very good, sir.” The captain began to turn to say goodbye to some of his men.
“Captain, one more thing.”
“Sir?” The captain said as he turned back around.
“Ask them one more time.” This time Paul couldn’t hide it; pain mingled into his words, nearly strangling him. The captain didn’t understand his concern but he vowed to follow all commands.
“Sir, They were pretty adamant in their decision. I don’t see any of them changing their minds.”
“Captain, please just ask again. Thank you.” Paul walked back down the aisle, effectively blocking any more conversation on the topic.
“Very well, sir.” The captain turned to obey his order. Alarms began to softly chirp in the back of his mind but the captain could not begin to understand why. He shrugged it off to nerves.
Twenty minutes later, the five men, two crying women and one screaming baby looked like a shoplifter’s dream. Cans of food jutted out of every pocket. They looked like walking convenience stores, Dennis wondered where the Slurpee machine was. Even a couple of the younger babies’ clothes had beef jerky poking out. One baby was gnawing on the other end. His mother quickly grabbed it, fearing if the baby dropped it, she would be unable to retrieve it without spilling half of the booty she was carrying. The men shook hands with their friends and saluted their major. The women were hugging and crying.
“Sergeant Bolito!” Paul yelled. It wasn’t necessary; the sergeant was less than ten feet away, but Paul’s emotions were close to the surface at the moment.
