The Directives

by Joe Nobody

  Bishop nodded at Grim, who pulled away the knife and gave the kid a gentle shove towards his friends. He immediately reached down and grabbed the discarded rifle, working the bolt until it was empty. He handed the weapon over and growled, “You can have your ammo back tomorrow – if your stupid ass lives that long.”

  Jimmy took the long gun and stepped closer to his friends. They started backing out when Bishop stopped them. “Wait. I was telling the truth. We’re really here to help. Can you have whoever is in charge meet me at the edge of town just after daybreak?”

  “That would be my uncle, Shane,” Jimmy responded. “He’s been the big dog in Riley since the mayor died. I’ll give him the message.”

  Bishop nodded, and then added, “Jimmy, tell him there are more of us than just the two you see here. Advise him not to get any clever ideas. Even if he got lucky, and took out my team, hundreds of other men would follow, and they’re not nearly as nice as I am. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir. I do. I’ll tell him.”

  Bishop and Grim watched the threesome fade back into the night, the cat’s eyes indicating that they followed the same path out as they had used coming in.

  “Do you think that was a good idea… letting them go so they could warn the others?” Grim asked.

  Bishop grunted, “You’re always such the optimist, Grim. That’s what I like about you.”

  “You may be right; you may be wrong. You’ve given away the element of surprise, and I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

  Bishop stared off in the direction of the town, knowing Grim had a valid point. “Our purpose is to save people, Grim. Not wipe them out. If we wanted to bulldoze down that village, then you’re spot on. But that’s not what we’re here to do. Besides, I don’t think shooting the youth of Riley would endear us to their leadership. We didn’t have many diplomatic choices here.”

  “That’s why you’re running this show,” Grim responded, his voice friendly. “I lost all my tact and social graces years ago. Besides, that kid was skinny as a beanpole. He only had three shells in a rifle that holds five, and the bolt didn’t feel well oiled, so I don’t think we’re up against a well-tooled fighting machine. Least I hope not, because now they know we’re coming.”

  The weeds were approaching Jimmy’s waist as he crossed the yard. For a moment, he recalled the smell of freshly mowed grass, a chore that once commanded most of the lad’s Saturday mornings. “Maybe there are some positive aspects to the apocalypse,” he mused.

  The flickering light from the kitchen window answered his next question. Shane was awake, probably cursing up a storm over his lack of cigarettes. In the morning, his mood was always foul without his nicotine-induced, tobacco fix. In the evening, it was the lack of beer that elicited yet another string of curses. The thought evoked a grunt from Jimmy. There hadn’t been any smokes or brew for over a year, and still his uncle bitched and moaned about it almost every day.

  “Shane, it's Jimmy. Coming in,” he yelled halfway across the yard-turned-pasture. These days, it wasn’t good to surprise anybody.

  He entered the back door and leaned his rifle against the wall. Before he could say anything, his uncle spoke up. “You’re back early. Did you guys get a hog already?”

  “No, we ran into some strangers before we even got to our hunting spot.”

  Shane immediately went on alert. “Everybody okay? What strangers? Where?”

  The answer came rushing out of Jimmy’s mouth. “We heard their truck down by the old Wheeler place. We tried to sneak up on them, but they caught us. This guy… his name was Bishop or something like that. He said he was a Texas Ranger and was coming to Riley to see if we needed help. He wants to talk to you at the edge of town after the sun comes up.”

  Shane held up his hand to silence his nephew. Drawing a pistol from his belt, he peeked out the blinds toward the backyard. “Are you sure they didn’t track you back here?”

  “Shane, they had no reason to follow me. They had plenty of food and gas cans in the back of their truck. I think this guy was telling the truth.”

  “Do ya now?”

  “They could have killed us easy. One of them got the drop on me from behind. He had his knife right here,” Jimmy said, pointing to his neck. “But they let us go. Even let me keep my rifle. If they were raiders or hobos, they wouldn’t have let me keep the gun.”

  Shane had to think about that statement for a minute. The kid had a point. “How many of them were there?”

  “We counted two, but Bishop said to tell you that he had more men – just in case you had any thoughts about being… what was the word? Oh, yeah, ‘clever.’ I believe him. They had bulletproof vests and battle rifles. When the big guy had a knife at my throat, I felt a bunch of clips on his vest.”

  The older man started to ask another question, but then paused. After another glance out the window, he began pacing the kitchen floor.

  “What type of truck did they have?” he finally asked.

  “It was just a regular looking, pickup truck. One of those newer models with two rows of seats. There was a camper shell over the bed, but the tailgate was down. That’s where I saw all the supplies and gear.”

  “So it wasn’t an Army truck or a Humvee?”

  “No. But… the truck was clean, Shane. That’s how we spotted it so easily. It sparkled in the starlight, chrome wheels and all. It looked brand new. Who squanders water washing a pickup? Who would waste the soap?”

  “Did they wear uniforms?”

  “Yes, but I couldn’t tell what the patches said.”

  Again, Shane began pacing, his hand scratching the full beard at his chin.

  “Go and roust the Herbert twins. Then go over to Walt’s place and have all of his clan meet me at the gas station. Rustle up as many of the rats as you can. Hurry now. Have them come quick. I’ll be waiting for our visitors at the Shell station. Have them meet me there.”

  “What are you going to do, Shane?”

  “Go on now,” the older man snapped, not wanting to admit he didn’t really have a plan. “There’s no time to gab. Get going.”

  Bishop’s earpiece sounded with Kevin’s voice. “I have a clear field of fire all the way to the brick building to the east. I can cover you as long as you stay between that structure and the gas station.”

  “Got it,” Bishop responded. “How secure is your position?”

  “I’m up in a tree with Cory patrolling around this little slice of woods. There are 500 meters of open field on all sides, so no one can get close to us. We’re secure.”

  “Okay. So this is going to happen just like we practiced. If Grim and I go prone, start shooting. If I drop my hat, start shooting. If you see people trying to sneak up on us, or a large number of armed people trying to flank us, I need to know. Other than that, you will have to use your judgment. You’ll do fine. Good luck.”

  “Yes, sir. My dad told me before we left that I was to make sure you got home okay. I won’t let you down.”

  Funny, Bishop thought. Nick said the exact same thing to me about you.

  The sun had fully cleared the horizon, announcing what appeared to be a clear, sizzling hot day. Glancing at Grim, Bishop questioned, “Are you ready?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  And with that, the two men began hiking toward the distant berg.

  Bishop had selected a chest-rig full of magazines for this first encounter. With a blowout bag (medical kit), 12 full pillboxes, and fighting knife, his choice of kit wasn’t good for anything other than combat. A Camelbak full of water and small bag of jerked beef were his only survival supplies.

  Grim took one side of the road, Bishop the other. Taking the lead, the ex-contractor stayed 10 feet in front of Bishop, eating up the distance with a steady pace.

  Ragweed, grass and a variety of overgrowth bordered the two-lane state highway leading into town. Bishop didn’t like it, but they really didn’t have much choice. Kevin, their over watch, would have seen anyon
e setting up an ambush. Or so he hoped.

  The foliage began to thin as the two approached the first buildings, Mother Nature a little less successful reclaiming the concrete and asphalt associated with sidewalks and vacant lots. Bishop was glad, their vantage improving with every step.

  A pre-collapse atlas from the library in Midland Station had given the team a good indication of the community’s layout, the primary residential section on the far side of downtown. Riley had one main street, two churches, three gas stations, one school, and a handful of small businesses.

  The first structure along their route was the Shell station, a weather-faded sign advertising DVD rentals available in the convenience store.

  “I wonder if they have that latest Sci-Fi blockbuster out of Hollywood?” Bishop asked Grim.

  “Funny.”

  The Alliance men managed another few steps before a warning sounded from ahead. “That’s far enough!”

  Grim stopped his forward progress, turning his head slightly so Bishop could hear his low words. “So much for our over watch.”

  Walking up to parallel his teammate, Bishop remained on the opposite side of the road. He couldn’t help but sneak a quick scan of the landscape for the closest cover. “We just want to talk,” he yelled back in the general direction of the challenger.

  “Then talk,” came the reply.

  Bishop hesitated. Standing exposed, unable to get a visual on the town’s spokesperson wasn’t the dynamic he had in mind. He decided to establish control. “I like to look a man in the eye when I’m talking to him. Come on out; we only want to have a conversation.”

  Kevin’s voice sounded in Bishop’s ear. “I’ve got two men with rifles moving on your right, 400 meters away. They are making for that church.”

  A figure appeared from the station’s corner, a younger man, perhaps in his mid-twenties. He was bone thin and filthy, worn clothing hanging from sloping shoulders. He had an SKS rifle across his chest, with what looked like an old belt serving as the sling.

  As he slowly stepped closer, Bishop examined the dark shadows under the guy’s eyes. Stringy, greasy-looking hair rounded out the appearance of a man who wasn’t having the best years of his life.

  “The two men on your right have made it to the church,” Kevin reported. “I have a very clear picture. They’re younger than I am… maybe 12 or 13 years old.”

  Bishop didn’t acknowledge Kevin’s report, instead addressing the man at the gas station. “My name’s Bishop. My team and I have been sent here to see if this community needs help.”

  “Sent by who? The government? The Feds? The Army?”

  Bishop smiled at the man, trying to heed Terri’s advice about being friendly. “There’s been a new, local government formed. We call ourselves the Alliance. Most of Texas south of here is part of this new group. Together, we have been able to establish stability within our area that we believe others need. We established trade, giving folks access to food, medical care, security, and much more. So we are spreading out, town by town. Neighbors helping neighbors. What’s your name?”

  “Shane. I’m kind of the default honcho hereabouts.”

  “Well, Shane. It’s a pleasure to meet you. What’s your status here in Riley? How many people are still around?”

  The local ignored Bishop’s questions, instead firing one back of his own. “How do I know you’re not just another raider or highwayman? We’ve had our share of fast talkers show up. All of them… every single one was a con artist, thief or murderer. Why should I believe you’re any different?”

  “You shouldn’t. I’m not asking you to, at least not at first. Like I told that young man this morning, we only want to talk.”

  Shane shook his head, the expression one of confusion more than disbelief. “If you’re what you say, why didn’t you just roll into town with food and soldiers?”

  “We’ve found that can be very dangerous. Some places don’t want help. Some towns are controlled by men who don’t want any outsiders around at all. We aren’t invaders, Shane. We’re your fellow citizens and friends. We’ve found it best to show up with a few men, just enough to protect ourselves while establishing contact and communications. If that goes well, then I can send a message and start helping your town integrate into the Alliance.”

  Kevin’s voice interrupted. “Bishop, I have two more armed men approaching from your left. They are 250 meters out, riding bicycles and working their way toward the Shell station.”

  Grim didn’t like it. Turning away from the man directly in front of them, the former Darkwater operator took a knee and raised his weapon, scanning for the new arrivals Kevin had just reported. The move made Riley’s honcho jumpy.

  “What’s he doing?” Shane demanded, backing away and raising his own weapon. “You said you just wanted to talk.”

  “Settle down,” Bishop said calmly. “We have a sniper watching over us. He’s spotted some men over by the church and two others coming up behind you. My partner is just being cautious.”

  Bishop regretted the use of the word, “sniper,” wishing instead he’d said “lookout.” Shane was clearly freaked out, his gaze darting across the horizon, trying to find the hidden shooter. All the while, his near-panic legs were pumping backwards.

  “Shane!” Bishop commanded, trying to halt the local’s retreat. “You’re fine. We are not going to hurt you. Chill out.”

  But it was too late. Without hesitation, the town’s representative turned and fled, quickly disappearing around the corner.

  Bishop walked over and took a knee beside Grim, trying to keep his eye on the distant church and the gas station at the same time.

  “Damn it! I hosed that up royally. That one word freaked that guy out. Sniper. What was I thinking?”

  Grim shook his head, “Don’t be too rough on yourself. That dude was about as skittish as a Bible salesman calling on a whorehouse. Did you see how thin he was?”

  Bishop nodded, “Clearly they aren’t eating well. Did you catch a whiff of the body odor? I don’t think we have to worry about them sneaking up on us.”

  The two Alliance men stayed put for several minutes, holding out hope that Shane would rethink his withdrawal and reappear. Kevin’s voice came across the airwaves, “I’ve got more movement back in town. They’re being careful now, staying in the shadows and scampering around. More guys on bicycles heading your way.”

  Grim wasn’t happy. “I don’t like this. We’re too exposed. Terri will kick my ass if I let you get shot out here in Bumfuck, Texas. Let’s head back to the truck.”

  Bishop had to agree. “Let’s do it.”

  The two men executed their egress, each covering the other in a maneuver called bounding, one leapfrogging past as the other covered his movement. Twenty minutes later, they were back at the truck.

  “Kevin, we’re back at base camp. Any more activity inside the city limits?” Bishop broadcast.

  “Not much. I finally got a good angle on two more of the riflemen. They were young like the others – maybe early teenagers. One of them wasn’t much taller than the rifle he was carrying.”

  Bishop considered the report for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. Weren’t there any adults in Riley? It would surely make his job easier if there was someone a little more seasoned to deal with. Maybe the older men are staying back, waiting to see how things go down, he reasoned.

  “Stay put for 30 more minutes. If you don’t see anything new, come on back in. They know where we are, so I want to move before they build up enough courage to come and visit us. We’ll head to site B.”

  Grim shook his head in disgust. “It took me almost an hour to set up all those cat’s eyes and trip wires. Now I have to do it all over again.”

  Bishop smirked at his friend’s griping. “Old age getting to ya, buddy? This apocalypse is hell for guys like you, huh? Serious lack of ibuprofen and Absorbine Jr.®

  “Screw you, sir.”

  “Would I be the first blonde you ever had?
”

  Both men chuckled at the response.

  Grim got serious again, scanning the area and then heading off to retrieve the team’s early warning devices. “I’m on it. Make sure our observers report in via radio before they come rambling through the woods. I wouldn’t want to shoot one of them by mistake.”

  “Roger that,” Bishop acknowledged. “I’ll go with you. No sense in just standing around here.”

  Still trying to catch his breath, Shane leaned against the building that once housed the post office. The sound of footfalls caused his head and rifle to jerk up in the same motion, but he quickly relaxed – it was only the twins.

  “What happened,” one of the boys asked. Shane could never tell them apart, but it didn’t matter.

  “They saw you guys coming in,” he hissed between breaths. “Next time, be more careful. You could have gotten me killed.”

  “How did they see us? We stayed in the weeds,” the other said.

  “They claimed to have a sniper. That might be bullshit, but somehow they knew you were coming in.”

  The sound of wheels rolling over gravel grabbed their attention, several more boys with rifles riding in from the north. Jimmy was leading them.

  The reinforcements helped Shane settle down and regain his composure. “They claim to be Texas Rangers, but I’ve never seen a cop who wore an Army uniform like that. Their equipment all looked military. I think they’re just a bunch of looters, hoping we’ve got food or guns or stuff.”

  “What are we going to do?” asked one of the boys, his dirty face filled with fear. “My older brother got shot the last time the raiders came by. My pa got killed the time before that.”

  “Your pa died of the sickness, Willy. He went plum crazy like the rest of them did,” one of the others challenged.

  “He did not!” the smaller kid shouted back, shoving the accuser.

  The other boy threw a punch that missed, and a few moments later, both were rolling around on the ground fighting.

  Shaking his head in disgust, Shane reached down, pulling one and then the other up by the belt. “Stop it! Both of you… stop it right now. We have very dangerous men nearby, and it’s no time for fighting. Now knock it off, or I’ll kick both of your scrawny asses.”