by Reed, N. C.
“I know,” Greg sighed. “I feel guilty about that, too,” he added softly. “At first, I couldn’t because I was shot up and nearly dead, but after I healed…I should have been out doing something.”
“All by your lonesome?” Sienna asked, her eyebrows raised. “Even Texas Rangers usually had help, Greg.”
“Well, I admit that my one foray into lone enforcement didn’t end so well,” Greg shrugged. “Okay. Assuming Clay is good with it, we’ll take one gas powered Hummer, and one diesel, and that little MRAP we captured from the bandits posing as soldiers. For a while, we’ll patrol with one of the Hummers and the MRAP, just to be safe. We might also talk him into letting us use one of the Guardians, I suppose,” he added thoughtfully. “They’re meant to be patrol vehicles.”
“Yeah, in a war zone,” Sienna reminded him.
“What do you think this is?” Greg asked her.
“Point.”
-
“Sure. Whatever you need or want.” Clay was instantly agreeable to Greg’s request.
“Really?” he looked at his friend with suspicion.
“Of course,” Clay nodded. “I promised Adcock and Whitten we’d support you, and I’d do it anyway for you, so no problem. Your new deputies will be safer in those rigs than in a car, anyway. How are you going to mark them?” he asked.
“We’ll use some of the white paint we took from town, probably,” Sienna replied. “We do have a little bit of gold flake we can use for the stars on the doors and hood. I think there’s enough of it, anyway. Then the word ‘Sheriff’ along the sides, front and back.”
“Sounds like you got it worked out,” Clay complimented. “Anything you need me to do?”
“No. We just need to find someone who can paint better than we can.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Greg decided he needed to head into town and discuss things with Mayor Pickett and whoever was heading the Constabulary there. So far as Greg was concerned, Jordan was the new seat of the Calhoun County Government, which presently consisted merely of him and the people he had sworn in as deputies.
Everyone needed to be using the same playbook, however. Plus, Greg was going to need a jail of some kind, somewhere, and people to guard it.
He and Sienna decided to ride into town that afternoon, before they met with the people who had been sworn in. At the last moment Talia Gray asked to go, as did Amanda Lowery. Greg saw no reason to deny their request and allowed them to tag along.
The four of them made the trip to Jordan with the women chatting amiably while Greg drove. The town was looking better every time they made it in, and Greg was glad to see it. This might well be the only area of Calhoun that was going to make it. Time would tell.
“Hello, Sheriff,” Pickett smiled as Greg walked up to the older man. “Funny as hell, this is. I was telling one of those fellas out at the farm back some time ago that it was a shame you weren’t still around. That you’d make a hell of a Sheriff, and here you are Sheriff.”
“Here I are,” Greg managed to smile a little. “I will admit that it’s a responsibility I don’t particularly want, but I did swear an oath, and I’m as healed up as I’m going to be.”
“So, what brings you to see me, today?” Pickett asked.
“I’ve got a few people who agreed to sign on as deputies, and I’ve got some gear,” Greg told the older man. “But there are some issues that we all have to face. First and foremost is that Peabody is pretty much ruined. While there are some structures still standing, it’s more or less a ghost town. I visited the jail while scouting the town, and from the smell Peyton didn’t open the cell blocks. I decided not to, either. I can’t imagine how we could clean that.”
“Probably can’t,” Pickett agreed.
“Jordan is the only other town in the county worthy of the name,” Greg noted. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s going to make Jordan the new County Seat. The County government will be settled here from now on.”
“Except there ain’t no county government,” Pickett replied.
“Except that,” Greg nodded. “There also isn’t a tax base to pay for a jail, or for guards. There’s no court system to haul people in front of when they misbehave, either. We, as in this entire county, are going to have to start from scratch and rebuild. On top of that problem is that we’re under martial law for the time being, which means elections are suspended. We can’t elect or appoint a county executive or mayor or have county commissioners either. Towns like Jordan can do as you all have and elect mayors, of course, but anything above a local government is going to have to be appointees filling offices at the direction of the regional commander.”
“He seems okay,” Pickett interjected.
“I think he is,” Greg agreed. “That was our impression, and I think I’ll go with it until he makes me change my mind. I don’t like being appointed ‘Sheriff’ over much, but I am apparently the last surviving civil law enforcement officer in the county, and that does count. I did swear an oath, so I’m going to uphold it if I can.”
“The problem being if you can,” Pickett nodded his understanding. “Well, I certainly won’t oppose Jordan being the new seat of government, but since there’s not much if any government left, I don’t know what good that will do, at least in the short run. And like you said, we got no tax base now, so no way to pay for services we need.”
“I am open to suggestions,” Greg admitted. “I also need to talk to whoever is heading your constables. We have to be on the same page. The Constitution forbids the suspension of habeus corpus unless we’re in an insurrection or enemy invasion, neither of which has happened. Well, that I know of, anyway. But that does mean that we’re going to need some kind of civil court authority. While martial law can include military adjudication, it won’t in this case because there’s no one to do it. So, we’ll have to have at least a judge, or maybe a magistrate, to decide if someone should be locked up.”
“Which leaves us with the problem of who that will be,” Pickett exhaled, rubbing his face. “And that opens a huge can of ugly worms, these days.”
“Big time,” Greg agreed. “I take it you haven’t had anyone appointed here, yet?”
“Haven’t needed it, thankfully,” Pickett shook his head. “A few drunks, a few fights, a bit of stealing here and there, but mostly it’s been things we could straighten out with talk and mediation. That won’t last, I imagine, but it’s holding for now.”
“So, who can we depend on to act as a magistrate?” Greg asked.
“The only person I know of for sure that’s still around is Edwin Stamp,” Pickett said. “You know him?”
“Didn’t he used to be an attorney?” Greg asked.
“He did,” Picket nodded. “He was semi-retired for years, since probably before you started working for Pepper. He would take work here and there, but usually just small things, as favors. He was always a straight arrow so far as I know. Knows the law very well. We could ask him. All he can do is say no,” the old man shrugged.
“That’s true,” Greg sighed. “Well, since I have no idea how to fix the tax base or jail issue, this at least looks like a problem we may can solve. Let’s go see Mister Stamp.”
-
“You’re talking about trying to rebuild an entire justice system, young man,” Edwin Stamp commented once Greg was finished explaining the situation.
Stamp was a distinguished looking old man, with iron gray hair and an air about him that spoke of dignity. Greg could picture him as a magistrate without difficulty.
“We can’t rebuild everything, sir,” Greg shook his head. “We don’t have the resources, or the way to get them. What we need is just a way to maintain order when necessary. If someone is out of line far enough that we have to take them into custody, then we’ve got to have someone review the case to see if it’s justified that we hold them. And, if it’s necessary to try them, then we need someone to sit in judgement. We can’t possibly worry about the petty things we used t
o do before the lights went out. No more tickets for speeding, running stop signs or running red lights.”
“That is very true,” Stamp chuckled deeply. “I can see what you’re saying, Sheriff, and I don’t disagree. Let me have some time to think on it. We can likely find a way to restore at least a minimum of order. I agree with Mayor Pickett that our good fortune is unlikely to last forever. In the meantime, if you find yourself needing a magistrate then I will agree, at least on a temporary basis.”
“Thank you, sir,” Greg rose, extending his hand. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s us who should appreciate all you and others like you are doing, Greg,” Stamp shook his head. “While most of us sit around with our heads in the sand, you’re trying to rebuild, even in the face of such incredible odds. All of you are the kind of people who made this nation what it became, son. Keep at it. We all depend on it.”
“We will, sir.”
-
“I need a mission into Peabody again, Clay,” Greg said that evening when he returned home.
“Okay,” Clay said at once. “What for? I mean, just curious,” he added.
“I need to go back to the office,” Greg told him. “There will be gear and supplies there that I left behind because I didn’t need them then. There are also law books, procedure books, criminal files and so on. Things I’ll need in order to maintain a new Sheriff’s office. We need to be able to educate everyone who ends up being a deputy, for starters. I need uniform patches if I can get them, and Pepper may have some vehicle decals laying around that we haven’t used. They’ll be for a car or an SUV, but we can alter them to fit one of the vehicles we’ll be using.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Clay agreed. “When do you want to go?”
“Tomorrow,” Greg replied. “The sooner we do it and get it over with, the better. I thought I’d take one of the gun trucks, too. Not for the firepower, but to haul anything we find. I figured while I was there, I’d check for fuel left in the in-ground tanks around town. If it’s there, then we can pump it out and use it. I actually thought we might try to rig a solar pump somewhere in Jordan for vehicles in use by the county.”
“That makes sense, so long as someone will be there to guard it,” Clay mused. “You should think about what building in Jordan would make a combination office, jail and depot. If Whitten comes up with any kind of support for you, you’d need a place for it.”
“I figured I’d do all that here, other than the jail,” said Greg. “But I don’t have to.”
“Oh, I don’t mind you doing it here,” Clay promised. “I was just afraid you’d not be able to use anything we have here for that. You know you’re more than welcome to do whatever you want, man. You’re practically a Sanders yourself, you know,” he laughed.
“I always was, wasn’t I?” Greg laughed with him. “Alright. Maybe I’ll try to build a small office somewhere over near the soldier barracks. Something I can use as a depot and even maybe an apartment for myself.”
“Warm milk getting to you?” Clay smirked, and Greg flipped him off.
“So, you just want some privacy, then,” Clay didn’t stop. “Don’t blame you for that. Go for it. There’s still a small solar rig we took from that Huntsville group. We had it as a spare, but it’s not being used right now. We can find a gravity tank for the fuel and put it over there, and Shane and his crew brought a working tanker. I don’t know if it can take fuel out of the ground the same way it put it in there, but I suspect Cliff will know. It’s his truck, I think.”
“We can use a battery pump, so long as we’re careful,” Greg told him. “Very careful,” he added. “And I don’t know if anything will be left, so much burned in the fire. That’s something else I’ll do tomorrow is take a look around and see what’s left. We may as well strip everything that no one else is using. I’ll assume if they were going to use it, they would have gotten it by now.”
“Honestly, I’d say that’s a fair assumption,” Clay sighed. “I wish it was different,” he said softly. “I knew this would be bad, man. I did. But I never imagined it being like this.”
“No one imagined Peyton being on the take, either,” Greg shrugged. “Everyone knew Pepper was crooked as a snake and just planned for that. Peyton, though, he was a straight arrow on the surface. I don’t know when anyone has ever surprised me like that, man.”
“Any of us, all of us can be fooled, my brother,” Clay clasped his friend on the shoulder. “Remember he fooled Gordon and Leon both. You weren’t alone.”
“True enough,” Greg nodded. “Well, I want to leave at sunup. I don’t want to be in town after dark. There’s too much damage there. It’s a risk to the people and the vehicles.”
“Take your new deputies,” Clay suggested. “Let them get their feet wet. Ask anyone else you want outside of more of the security team. You’re taking over half of it as it is.”
“I will,” Greg promised. “Thanks, Clay.”
“I told you we’d support you, man,” Clay waved it off. “If order can be restored, so much the better for us, here. We’ll miss having you as our very own lawman, though,” he grinned.
“I have a feeling I’ll miss that too, very soon,” Greg didn’t smile back.
-
“Those, too,” Greg pointed to a shelf of law books along the wall of Pepper’s old office. “Though I don’t know why the hell he had them. He never followed them, that’s for sure.”
“Are you sure we need all these?” Gordy asked, curious. “I mean, a lot of these laws are going to be for things that no one will care about or that don’t apply, anymore.”
“That is true, but it’s also a good example to use in establishing what to do going forward,” Greg agreed. “I’m amazed this building didn’t go up in the fire. We’ve lost a great deal as it is. I want to save what we can.”
“Cool,” Gordy nodded as he began boxing books.
“There’s a lot of gear still here,” Sienna noted, stuffing duffel bags full of said gear. “I take it your old boss didn’t believe in giving stuff out?”
“Not really,” Greg replied. “He bought what he had to in order to convince the county commissioners that he needed a better budget, but saw no reason to ‘spoil’ us, as he put it. Though he did give me the vest that saved my life,” he added. “I mean, I would have bought my own if I had to, but the one he got me was top of the line. Probably what kept me alive.”
“Sounds rough,” she said quietly. “There were odd and end uniforms and patches and what have you that I threw in. I figure we can put the patches on BDUs if nothing else.”
“Me too,” Greg nodded. “I’m headed out to the garage to see if there were any decals he hadn’t used yet. If there are, it would save a lot of time if we can alter them to fit the new vehicles they’re going on.”
“Okay. We’ll finish up in here.”
-
“Well, that looks almost official,” Clay joked as he stood back and examined the Hummer’s new identification.
A large gold star, an emblem to match the badges worn by the deputies in fact, now adorned both doors of the two Hummers that Greg had chosen for his new job. The decals identified them as part of the “Calhoun County Sheriff’s Office” and had the state seal in the middle. The word “Sheriff” adorned the front of the vehicle in white, and across the back.
There had not been another decal for the MRAP, so a large, five-point star was taped off across the hood and painted with gold flecked paint, while white “Sheriff” decals were placed on the sides and back. The MRAP would not be used as a solitary patrol vehicle anyway, so it was decided that should be sufficient.
“Well, it more or less looks official, anyway,” Greg shrugged. “Better than what we started with.”
“Cheer up, man,” Clap slapped his friend’s back lightly. “If you live long enough, you’ll have to do it by horseback, anyway,” he grinned.
“Very true, if I was gonna be Sheriff that long,” Greg nodded. “I have no su
ch intentions. Besides, as soon as any sort of civil authority reasserts itself, you know the first demand will be ‘free and fair elections’, and I will not be running for office.”
“You should at least consider it,” Clay told him. “It would be good for the county, and for us as well. I’m not saying you should take one for the team,” he raised his hand to ward off objections. “I’m just mentioning it as something that would definitely work in our favor as we get on our feet.”
“What are you planning?” Greg asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Come see me on the patio when you’re done,” Clay replied rather than answer. “We’ll talk then.”
-
“One of the things Leon talked about was being able to get some kind of economy going again as soon as possible,” Clay said half-an-hour later. He had poured the two men a glass of ice water as they sat alone at the tables before Building Two.
“That would be great, but I don’t see a way to do that, right now,” Greg agreed, taking a drink of water.
“Not right this minute, no,” Clay sat back. “But it needs to happen sooner rather than later, I think. So far, this whole ‘commune’ thing is working for everyone, but if the street market taught us anything it’s that people are tired of being broke. Tired of not having stuff.”
“Well, I agree, mostly, but even if we had money, which we don’t, no one would want to accept it for anything of value right now. I remember when I was planning for disasters, everyone was ‘buy gold, buy gold’, talking about how it was the only thing that would have value. And while gold may hold an intrinsic value, people have to want something for it to really be worth anything. There are a lot of things right now that are rarer and more sought after than gold or silver. Food being at the top of the list, but followed closely by clothing, shoes and blankets.”
“All absolutely true,” Clay agreed. “And yet, people are also starting to make things. It’s small things right now, but it will grow. It has to, because whenever there’s a demand, someone will step forward to fill it. Just how people are, and that’s all over the world, not just here. Take the Goat Lad-, uh, Miss Lacey,” Clay caught himself. “She makes soaps and lotions and cra-, er, stuff, from goat’s milk and oils and fruits and shi-, other items,” he resisted the urge to look around and make sure no one heard his near slip. “Those are things people, especially women, will want. Do want, as my own trading and moving and building has shown,” he reminded his friend.
