Fire From The Sky (Book 5): Home Fires

by Reed, N. C.

  “It's not that we don't have enough people,” Clay said finally. “It's more complicated than that,” he struggled to explain it in a way Leon would understand. Brick helped him out.

  “There is a difference between quality and quantity,” the big man told Leon. “Ten men with the training and experience Clayton and his commandos have, armed as they are now, have the potential to fight as much as ten times their number and be victorious. They would take losses no doubt, but they would most likely achieve victory, especially if fighting on their own ground from dug in positions. It isn't about numbers as much as the quality of the numbers.”

  “Yeah,” Clay nodded. “Thanks Brick. That's it exactly. We've got too many people who can't defend themselves. If everyone here, or at least most everyone anyway could defend themselves then we'd have a better chance. But we don't have that. We can't trust those women,” he pointed toward the cabin area, indicating the orphanage, “not to turn on us, so we can't arm them, even just to protect the kids. See what I mean about net loss? Not only are they useless, but they take away from what we do have.”

  “I see,” Leon nodded. “I get it. What did we do with the youngsters over at the Troy farm?” he asked.

  “We fortified the basement and three of the women stand on defense while the other two watch the children. One of them just had a baby herself so she can't really do much else, anyway. And someone has to watch them.”

  “But she can shoot if she has to?” Leon said and Clay nodded. “So, she's not this. . .net loss you're talking about. She's working, but in a pinch can help defend the basement and the children.”

  “Got it,” Clay nodded.

  “There has to be a way to change all this around,” Leon muttered. “Think, boy! There has to be a way to change up the way we're doing things. We have to find it.”

  “Leon, don't forget about harvest time,” Clay sighed. Leon still wasn't really seeing. “We’ll need constant security while we're running the harvesters. One man with a rifle on each machine plus at least a two-man roving patrol. And remember, that's in addition to everything else we have to do. If Holman is smart, and I'm pretty sure he's at least crafty, then he will wait until we're hip deep in grain before attacking us again. Why take the farm before the crop is in? Let us do all the work and then grab the benefits.”

  “Yeah,” Leon said, unhappy. “We need more people,” he muttered.

  “I don't know where we would get them,” Clay admitted. “Not people we can trust, anyway. And I doubt you've thought about it, but I don't see how we can trust the surviving Webbs, either. For that matter I'm not sure we should let them stay once Luke and Sam have healed. They need to tend to their own knitting, I'd guess.”

  “You really think we couldn't trust them?” Brick asked. “After what they've been through?”

  “You could maybe,” Clay nodded. “Me? No chance in hell. While they might not see you as a target, you can bet they will me. By the time Luke and Sam are on their feet John will have filled them full of the shit he's shoveling already about me not wanting to help and this and that and whatever else. And he's extending that to the whole damn family by the way,” he looked at Leon. “Just so you know.”

  “So, no,” he looked back at Brick, “I don't think we can trust them. Jasmine and Daisy will likely be useless in any kind of fight at this point, they've both been so brutalized. And Miss Deborah,” he shook his head sadly. “I hope and pray she recovers, but. . .I just don't see it. She may wake up but I've seen head trauma like that before. It... it changes folks.”

  “So, it does,” Brick agreed. He had seen it too, but didn't bother to say so.

  “Look,” Clay stood up. “Let me get with Pancho and see what we see, okay? I'm not promising anything,” he held his hands up. “And if we can make things work then. . .if we can work around this then people here have to change with the times, Leon. Have to. If they don't, we won't make it. Not with how all this has been shot to hell like it has been. Understand?”

  “I understand,” Leon nodded. “Let me think on that while you see what can be done. Get back to me once you have and we’ll go from there.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  -

  “So, does this mean you're back?”

  “I didn't say that,” Clay shook his head. He had found Jose in Building Two with Janice, listening for radio traffic on known military frequencies.

  “Well, it sounds like you're at least thinking about it?” Jose said, or asked. Or both.

  “I'm looking at things. . .I'm trying to see how we can make up for all this damage,” Clay settled for saying. “We need more people… people who are able,” he stressed, “and we need more shooters. If we can't get them then we're living on borrowed time now.”

  “I agree,” Jose nodded. “Been thinking the same thing. Webb hurt us, worse than he knew. There's no way he didn't tell them everything he knew about us, and that's a lot.”

  “Had that same thought, myself,” Clay nodded. “No use worrying over it ‘cause we can't change it. So, we change what we can. We trained everyone in the basics on the rifle, right?”

  “And pistol, and then in very basic tactics,” Jose nodded. “Very basic,” he stressed.

  “Okay,” Clay exhaled deeply. “We need to see who we can weed out from there to put through the real thing and train them up to be useful in an attack.”

  “Makes sense,” Jose nodded slowly. “Hadn't thought about it, to be honest,” he admitted. “I was thinking about people who would be trained already.”

  “And if we could get a few… a few we could at least semi-trust, that would be awesome,” Clay agreed. “Meanwhile, we need to try and help ourselves. Here's the deal, though,” he held up a finger. “We're looking at harvest, Lord willing and the natives don't rise, in about four months. We got that long to get it done, assuming we don't get hit again in the meantime, or suffer some other major disaster.”

  “That's a good bit of time if we use it properly,” Jose said.

  “It is, but we can't do it full time because there's a ton of work that still has to get done around here,” Clay reminded him. “We’ll have to do it in shifts, I guess, or groups. Maybe call them squads or something. Fire teams. I know that Greg mentioned he had paired people up originally based on who they worked with most, assuming that was who they would be near in case of attack. That's a good idea, but his original plan is now fully shot to hell with so many people gone. So, we're back to square one there. Meanwhile, people will have forgotten things. We're essentially starting from scratch, other than weapons familiarization.”

  “True, but we at least know most of the people a little better now,” Jose pointed out. “That has to help.”

  “Possibly. First, let’s get with Greg and Vicki and see who we can all agree can maybe go further and do more.”

  -

  “The twins are out,” Clay said at once. “They aren't that good with a rifle anyway, and they can't drive anything bigger than a golf cart without killing it. And we literally can't spare them.”

  “That applies to the Hardy girl, too,” Greg reminded him. “She's some kind of walking repository of knowledge or something.”

  “She is spooky,” Jose agreed. “Mention something and suddenly she'd spouting off information at you so fast you can't react to it.”

  “So, all of them are out, and we agreed already to no one under sixteen,” Clay was marking off names. “We can add Olivia Haley, assuming she can pass a physical and maybe a mental eval. Beverly has been talking to her, so she would know if she can hack it or not. She’ll have to put on some weight.”

  “That's the truth,” Vicki sighed. “Every time I see that girl I just want to make her sit down and eat a sandwich or something. I swear you can count her ribs through her shirt.”

  “Mom says she's always been very slender like that, but the winter made it worse,” Clay agreed.

  “I know you and your niece have issues, but I'm pretty sure she's solid,” V
icki continued. “Strong and a good shot.”

  “She has discipline issues, but I think those are under control. She is very intelligent when she's not being an idiot or a spoiled brat and she can drive literally anything,” Clay nodded, surprising Jose and Greg both. “Lainie can do it,” he added, trying to keep the reluctance from his voice.

  “I'm pretty sure Amy is good for it, assuming she's sure her daughter is safe,” Greg mentioned. “But you will play pure hell getting Jake to do it, other than just protecting the building or what have you. He's in the same situation as Amy, parent wise, but. . .since Katey. . ..” he trailed off, unable to put his thoughts to words.

  “We’ll hold off on him for now,” Clay sighed. “Truthfully, Jake is pretty important too. He's not only our best mechanic but he's a builder. He can put almost anything together.”

  “Samantha Walters can do it, assuming she can pass the physical,” Greg continued. “She may not look it, but she's a hunter. Deer, turkey, waterfowl, you name it. She's just. . .small,” he shrugged.

  “Gordy's been working with her some on shooting a handgun,” Clay mused. “Yeah, assuming she can pass the physical. If nothing else she can probably qualify to man the tower. She is apparently a hell of a rifle shot.”

  “She is,” Greg nodded. “Got the trophies to prove it.”

  “Marcy George is borderline on age, but Gary Meecham said she could deal,” Clay mentioned.

  “She did well in class,” Vicki nodded. “She's a solid kid. Not a risk taker, but not hesitant either.”

  “Sounds good,” Clay made a check by Marcy's name. “Teri?”

  “Hesitant, but more from unfamiliarity with firearms than anything else, I think,” Greg said.

  “I agree,” Vicki nodded. “And she's very smart.”

  “That might be a disqualifier, since she's the closest thing we have to a vet, going to be more and more important as things move along.”

  “Something to consider,” Jose sighed and Clay marked Terri with a question mark.

  “Nathan, Kaitlin's son,” Jose said. “He's a good, strong kid with a good head on his shoulders.”

  “I haven't seen much of him,” Clay admitted.

  “He's been working around the place,” Jose nodded. “He was most of the labor getting the basement set up for them. But, he's quiet and doesn't get around much. Works like a horse though, and able bodied. He did pretty well shooting, too.”

  “Okay. What about Ellen?” Clay asked.

  “Did well in class,” Greg nodded. “She's strong, obviously, and she's plenty tough. Quiet and not assertive, so don't look for her to take on any leadership roles, but she can definitely handle a rifle and obviously drive. With her strength,” he looked at Vicki, “she might be a good candidate for a 'forty-nine’, too.”

  “Hadn't thought about it, but yeah,” Vicki nodded. “She could handle a SAW just fine, I imagine, with a bit of training and familiarization.”

  “Might do well with other systems as well,” Jose added cryptically, but didn't elaborate.

  “Martina?” Clay asked.

  “She can,” Jose nodded. “But remember her and Beverly are already standing guard in the basement shelter.”

  “True,” Clay marked them off as already assigned. “We still need to get them the training, though,” he added.

  “She can likely do it,” Jose nodded. “Don't know about Bev. Have to ask,” he shrugged.

  “We will. Alright then,” he perused the list once more. “Anthony Goodrum. . .just turned sixteen,” he sighed at that.

  “He's an excellent shot, but shy,” Greg said. “Timid even. But he can put lead down range in fine fashion.”

  “He can,” Vicki agreed. “Good head for tactics when he's taught. Asks good questions, too.”

  “Good enough for a trial run, anyway,” Clay nodded. “Remember, we're not necessarily looking for field grunts here,” he reminded them. “We are looking for people who can and will man defensive positions and help fight off an attack. And let’s be real about it from the start; we all know that means losses are possible, if not probable. We need to plan for that. I don't like it any more than you do, but this is just how it is.”

  “Nothing we can do except acknowledge it,” Greg agreed. “Everyone else needs to as well.”

  “What are we doing about the Webbs?” Vicki asked.

  “How do you mean?” Jose asked before Clay could reply.

  “Going, staying, helping, what?” Vicki rattled off. “Two boys and a girl are hale and hearty right now. Two men will recover eventually, though I can't say about the two women. And Miss Deb,” Vicki shrugged. “She wouldn't be on the list even if she was one hundred percent. But what about the rest?”

  “It's a gray area right now,” Clay admitted. “There's no doubt that Joshua Webb hurt us bad, in more ways than one most likely. At least one Webb is carrying a strong dislike for my family in particular and probably everyone here in general. I’ll be honest here. If it were up to me they'd be gone as soon as they were able, Miss Deborah aside. But it won't be up to me. So, I don't have an answer for you. I promise as soon as I know one, I will let you know what it is, though. All I can do.”

  “So... we need to treat them as potential problems?” Vicki asked for clarification. “I mean right now we're treating them just like we did when they lived here, is the reason I ask. We need to know if that's changing or has changed or. . .whatever.”

  “For now, treat them as neutral,” Clay decided. “They aren't part of the group but they're not declared enemies, either. I’ll try and get some kind of answer as soon as I can. I just don't know,” he admitted.

  “Fair enough.”

  -

  “Sure,” Lainie nodded. “I'm surprised we weren't helping already once we had been trained.”

  “This won't be like what you did before,” Clay warned. “This will be real training. Down in the dirt, crawling and shooting and jumping and carry on. Day in and day out for months.”

  “Sounds exciting, except for the part where you get shot at when it's over,” she made a funny face. “Look, we can't just sit here. I've been expecting it. I'm good to go.”

  “I don't care for it,” Clay admitted.

  “My brave Cowboy,” Lainie hugged him. “Always protecting me when he can.”

  “Please take it seriously when it starts,” Clay asked her. “It's fine to joke now, but not then.”

  “Don't worry, I will.”

  -

  “No.”

  “Jake, I'm not talking about gearing up and going on patrol or doing anything off the farm,” Greg told his huge friend. “But we have to be able to protect this place. That means you need more skills than you have now, Jake. We all need this. If I get my way, eventually all the kids will be getting training. Not like what we're talking about now, but rudimentary firearms instruction and basic safety protocols. Things that will make it easier for them to train up when they're of age.”

  “Training kids to be soldiers,” Jake muttered.

  “No, Jake,” Greg shook his head. “Training kids to be survivors. Huge difference. This is a whole new world, brother. There are no rules other than dog-eat-dog. We can't raise our kids not knowing how to defend themselves. It's not right.”

  “Last time I looked you ain't got any kids,” Jake shot back.

  “I hope to one day,” Greg shot right back. “I don't always want to be alone, man. Just. . .things don't never seem to work out for me, that's all,” he shrugged. Jake instantly felt bad that he had said anything.

  “Sorry man,” he slapped Greg on the shoulder. “Shouldn't o' said that. I just. . .I can't stand the thought of my little girl having to learn all that.”

  “Jack won't be little forever,” Greg reminded him. “She has to grow up and we have to grow old, assuming we get to. You can't cripple her future just because you don't want her to 'have' to do something. The world the way it is now dictates what she’ll need, man. And right now, this is h
ow it is.”

  “I know,” Jake sighed deeply. “Fine. I’ll do it. I said I'd help protect this place anyway when Clay invited me out. Hell, it was my second home when were kids anyway, wasn't it?”

  “That is was, my man.”

  -

  Gordy sat listening to Abby and Sam talk about training and fought not to frown. He wasn't worried about Abby, she could take care of herself for sure, but he was concerned about Sam. She wasn't tiny, but she was on the small side, and to say that kind of training was physically demanding was like calling a candle a heat source. It was technically correct, but you had to squint to see the similarity.

  “What's wrong with you?” Patricia asked him quietly as she sat down beside him at the kitchen table.

  “Nothing,” Gordy assured her, albeit poorly. “Why?”

  “Gordy,” Patricia smiled at him sadly. “I can see it in the way you're holding yourself, not to mention your eyes. You're afraid for her,” she almost whispered.

  “Yeah, I am,” he admitted. “I think. . .I mean I don't know. . .that is, I do know, but I'm not. . .dammit,” he muttered, looking at the table as his face turned red.

  “I know,” his mother patted his hand softly. “Been there, done that, sweetie. You think you know, but you can't be sure, but you need to sure, but you're not sure how to know you're sure, it just keeps repeating over and over in your head, echoing around in there, doesn't it?”

  “Every day,” he nodded.

  “It will get better,” she promised. “You just need more time, that's all. There's a reason we always say 'take your time',” she added as she got back to her feet.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Gordy sighed, standing up as well. “You going to the clinic?” he changed the subject.

  “Yes. I need to check on Deborah and I'm pulling a four-hour shift on watch.”