by W. B. Martin
“Julie seems really excited about the baby. How are you feeling?” Paul started.
“Contentment. The last few months have been very stressful for me, not knowing what happened to Mary. And Isaac going off to fight,” John said.
The two brothers floated along lost in their thoughts. They checked the women occasionally and they appeared to have been talking the whole time. Girl issues, Paul thought. He wished he could dwell on the simple things in life sometimes like his brother had decided to do. And from the looks of things, the woman in his life enjoyed escaping for a short while, also.
Finally, the takeout and Paul’s Caprice loomed up on the left. Amanda pulled on her oars. Paul swung the stern of the boat toward the river bank and pulled hard to make the beach. He slid his raft in next to Amanda’s, bumping her boat a little.
“Hey, can’t you drive that thing any better than that?” she exclaimed.
“Looks like you two were busy the whole time. You didn’t happen to notice the Golden Eagle flying over, did you?” Paul queried.
“We were busy. We have to get Julie ready for her big day. Plans at the ranch need to be adjusted. These three will need more space to develop as a real family,” Amanda answered.
Poor John. Now he and my parents will have to deal with all the confusion, Paul thought. Well, John had said that he was happy to be settled at the ranch.
Paul untied his waterproof ammo can and retrieved his car keys. John did the same and handed the old truck keys to his brother. Paul and Amanda would drive up to the put-in and retrieve their second vehicle. John and Julie could lie in the sun while the rafts and gear all dried. They would have it all packed up when the shuttle returned.
The ten mile river trip required a twenty mile drive up and back. The dusty gravel road was slow as it negotiated around the hills above the river. Paul took the sharp turns slowly and it was a good forty minutes to the truck. Another forty minute drive back was needed as Paul drove the old truck. His dust cloud kept Amanda covered as she followed him.
Swinging down the last curve, they crested the rimrock about two hundred feet above the bridge over the Boise River. The takeout beach lay just to the east of the bridge. Paul looked down and knew instantly that something was wrong.
John stood over what looked like two people lying in the sand. Julie was tight by John’s side trying to disappear into his armpit. Paul accelerated as best he could down the grade. Sliding to a stop in the gravel, he jumped out with his H&K 9 mm semi-automatic handgun in his hand.
Running over to John, he stopped short. There was no rush. What had happened was definitely over.
“Whoa Brother. What is going on?” Paul asked.
“Not much now, but it was pretty exciting about thirty minutes ago,” John answered. Julie looked up from her hold on John. She was crying.
Amanda pulled up behind the truck and jumped out. She ran to Julie and grabbed her. The two walked behind the Caprice so they didn’t have to look at the grisly scene.
John explained that about ten minutes after the two had left, he heard movement behind the bridge abutment in some bushes by the river. The hair on the back of his neck stood up at the noise, and instinctively he cracked open the ammo can for easy access.
His fears were confirmed when two very large filthy men came out from under the bridge. They were over six feet tall, and even with the hard times, they both still had fairly big guts. They approached John and Julie, sort of friendly like, asking if they might have some extra food.
“But from the leer they were giving Julie, it wasn’t food they were thinking of. And from the looks of their clothes, they had been out foraging for a long time,” John added. “I watched their hands but neither of them had a weapon. But I was suspicious of the loose shirts hanging out. It didn’t look like just fat stomachs.”
“What did you do?” Paul asked. They were both staring down at two large bodies lying on their backs. Each one had a huge hole just about dead center in their chests. Blood oozed out and was already drying on the shirts from the heat of the sun.
“I kept my hand very close to the ammo can. Then they asked if I had any spare money so they could go into town and buy some food, still acting nice and friendly like. But they continued to stare at Julie,” John answered. “Of course Julie was still in her swim suit, I’m sure that drove them crazy.”
John explained how he told them to stop right there and he would check for some spare money. But they kept on coming forward, never wavering in their stare at Julie.
“I said I needed to check my wallet and pointed at the ammo can. Instead I pulled out the .357 Magnum. Their stare quickly changed direction and intensity. I told them to stop. The one on the right then pulled up his shirt to reach for this,” John said as he lifted the man’s shirt. Still in his waistband was a black revolver.
“Looks like he didn’t get far,” Paul offered.
“I shot them both where they stood.”
“And good shooting, too. Couldn’t have hit center mass much better myself. Good job,” Paul said.
“What? That’s all you’re going to say? There are two dead men in front of you and you’re discussing shooting abilities. What kind of country am I stuck in?” Julie yelled as she stormed around the Caprice to confront the two brothers. Amanda was right behind her but didn’t show similar disdain. Paul noticed that. Good. A keeper, he thought.
“The kind of country where people know how to survive, that’s where,” John answered, a strain of anger in his voice. “You have no idea what was about to happen. Without this weapon, I would be dead right now, you’d be tied up for future things you don’t want to know about. And they would be waiting for my brother and Amanda to return so they could dispose of them the same way.”
Julie shrank at the outburst. The past months had been terrible, but she hadn’t been personally involved in any of the bad things. She had been safely down on the ranch away from the chaos. Now, chaos was in her face, and she didn’t know what to do.
“We need to make things real clear here. You were raised with the liberal East Coast way of life. Well, that life is gone. Those people are all dead. Killed by their own vanity that the world wasn’t a dangerous place. That they could ‘just get along’ with everybody.” Paul stood off to the side. John was cranked up now. “Well, this is the West, and we were raised to take care of ourselves and those around us. And that there are dangerous people all around and only a thin veneer of civility keeps them from turning into monsters.”
Amanda stepped in and took the now hysterical Julie in her arms. She gave John ‘the look’ to inform him that was enough.
“Come on, Brother, let’s load up.” Paul broke John’s stare. A stare that wasn’t really at anyone in particular. John refocused and bent to the task of folding up the rafts.
When all the raft gear was packed in the pickup truck, the two brothers stopped and stared at the two bodies. “What are we going to do with them?” John asked.
“We’ll load them up and take them to the sheriff in Mountain Home. He can depose of the trash.”
At over two hundred pounds apiece, the brothers, with a great deal of effort, loaded the two bodies. By the time they were done, both were sweating profusely. The legs of the dead men were hanging over the open truck tailgate.
“I’ll take the lead with the two women in the Caprice so they don’t have to look at our load,” Paul said.
Pulling into the County Courthouse, John backed the truck up to the door to the sheriff’s office. Paul came over and the two of them muscled the dead men out of the pickup. As they did, a crowd gathered.
The door swung open and out walked ‘Big Bob’ Caldwell, Elmore County sheriff. He had been sheriff for what seemed forever, and knew the two brothers well.
“What do we have here?” ‘Big Bob’ bent down and rolled the bodies face up. The crowd gasped at the two large holes in their chests, but also at who they saw. “Well, I’ll be. Herman and Harvey have finally met their
fate.”
Paul and John looked quizzically at the sheriff. “Herman and Harvey? You know these two?” Paul asked.
“Know them? I’ve been trying to track them down ever since they showed up after P-Day. They got out of Boise, where they were already infamous, and thought the hunting would be better down here.”
“What have they been hunting?” John asked.
“Women, food and alcohol. Maybe not in that particular order, mind you. So who did in the Pointkowski twins?” ‘Big Bob’ asked.
“They’re brothers?” John asked.
“Identical twins. You can’t tell? Look at them.”
John and Paul finally studied the faces and realized they were identical. “Well, I wasn’t watching their faces much. I was holding on their chests I’m afraid,” John answered.
“And good work, too. Almost dead center. If you want to change careers John, let me know. I have deputies that would have emptied an entire clip and still would have missed.”
“Is everyone totally callous? Two men are dead. They were human beings, too, and loved by a mother somewhere. What kind of people are you?” Julie demanded.
“Who’s this?” ‘Big Bob’ asked. “Whoever you are, lady, I can take you to the graves of twelve people that can refute that there was any humanity left in these two. And if you want, I can show you the black and white pictures upstairs of the condition we found the women in. The men were lucky, they died quick. Oh, did I mention the three children that ran into these two. Their pictures will definitely reinforce that belief you seem to have in the goodness of all people.”
“It’s OK, Sheriff. She’s upset. She’ll be fine as soon as we get her back to Bruneau,” Amanda said.
“Anything else we need to do, Sheriff?” John asked.
“Stick around and let the town buy you drinks. That’s about all I can think of.”
“Some other day maybe,” John answered.
The four got into their vehicles amid loud clapping of the crowd. The drive out to Bruneau was long and quiet. Finally Amanda said, “We need to stay and make sure that things will be OK between John and Julie.”
“I can’t. You know I’ve been invited to return to Cheyenne a week early to meet with Professor Lars Lundquist of the von Mises Institute. He contacted me this week and may have a compromise position to our Convention deadlock. I have to go,” Paul offered. “But you can stay the week and help Julie. I’ll meet you later in Cheyenne.”
Chapter 21
Mt. Tongariro, North Island, New Zealand
The month since the first American infantry troops had shown up had been hectic for Noel and his great-grandfather. As the official liaison team assigned to help the Americans coordinate activities with the Kiwi troops, they had been always on the move.
Noel continued to carry their personal gear, while his great-grandfather fought old age to show himself capable of his duties. Noel could tell his great-grandfather was struggling, but would never show the Yanks that a Kiwi in his eighties wasn’t able to keep up with any young stud from America.
Together they had reconnoitered the land in front of the Kiwi defensive line. Except for the initial probes south, the Indonesians seemed content to consolidate their hold on Auckland. They had pulled their troops back into a defensive position after running into Kiwi resistance. Refugees continued to pass through the Kiwi lines daily as the invaders forced the issue of ‘move or die’. The Indonesians had come to stay, and were moving into now vacant farms and businesses.
The Kiwis were fighting for their existence. With over two hundred million Indonesians before ‘the Pulse’, they had sufficient numbers of people to displace the four million New Zealanders. Luckily, the news of the American arrival appeared to have been missed by the Indonesians. Noel felt that the longer they were in the dark, the better.
“Word is that all elements of the 24th Division are in place now. We have orders to move north and close with the ‘Indos’,” the Kiwi Commander said. “Major Smith, as New Zealand Commander of this sector, I have overall command. But I would ask you to be tactical commander. You Americans are providing the bulk of our attacking strength and the New Zealand government has asked all its area commanders to relinquish control over the coming fight.”
“Thank you, Commander. We will work with the liaison team to make sure both armies work together,” Major Smith said. He looked at Noel and his great-grandfather as he said it. Noel gave the major an approving nod. GG snorted loudly.
“Right then, we’ve worked out our plan. Let’s close with the ‘Indos’ and show them whose bloody country this is,” the Kiwi commander said. His other officers mumbled their approval of finally moving out. We’ve been sitting on this mountain pass long enough, Noel thought.
Major Smith walked over to the communication tent and picked up the phone. He was soon in touch with Supreme Headquarters in Palmerston North. After a brief discussion, he hung up.
“Move out,” he ordered.
Noel picked up his personal gear and threw it over his shoulder. His great-grandfather handed his personal gear to Noel and followed the major and his staff out of the tent. It was a crisp fall day in the Southern Hemisphere. Noel was glad to be moving down to a more temperate climate. Winter approached the Desert Road, and he didn’t relish spending a cold snowy season stuck in the trenches here.
Lake Taupo and Rotorua beckoned and both had a milder climate, being at a much lower elevation. And both had numerous hot springs. Not only hot springs, but hot lakes and hot rivers covered this highly active geothermal area.
Refugees had reported that the ‘Indos’ were stuck in the Bombay Hills south of Auckland. They had been observed digging a defensive zone. Why hadn’t they captured the area that lay between them and us? Noel wondered.
Between Lake Taupo and Auckland lay some of the best farm country in New Zealand. The Chinese had recognized this and had spent billions buying up the agricultural land before the Pulse. Now, the Kiwis needed to secure this land to grow the food next summer to sustain the rest of the country.
Noel joined the column as the American and Kiwi troops marched out. The few vehicles running would be reserved for moving supplies up. When Noel’s units met up with the railroad from Wellington, then supplies would flow more easily to the forces defending the center of the island.
* * *
Noel reached the outskirts of Hamilton and imagined how his great-grandfather felt. He was tired. A week of forced marches had brought the troops even with what had once been New Zealand’s second largest city.
The units to the west of them had formed up on their left shoulder. Troops had been moved up from the East Cape and crossed the mountains. The flat farm land around Ngatea was now secure.
The Bombay Hills lay about 20 km in front of the Kiwi position. As a natural barrier protecting Auckland, the American Commander had decided that he would hold the line short of the ‘Indos’. To attack troops dug into hillside positions, proper preparation was required.
“What the bloody hell are we digging in for? The ‘Indos’ are over there. You Yanks love your shovels. Why don’t you bloody well use those fancy rifles you brought?” GG admonished. Noel had resigned himself to his great-grandfather’s rants. So, it appeared, had Major Smith. Noel noticed that he didn’t even look up at the insults anymore.
“Noel, we’ll let our supplies catch up to us here. And get a little reconnoitering of what’s in front of us,” Major Smith said.
“Yes, Sir. You need us for that?” Noel asked. He needed to get some rest, especially so for his great-grandfather.
“No. You and GG sit tight. We’ll get our scout team on it.”
“‘Bout time they scouted something. Been a bloody walk in the park. I could have put a baby in a pram and made better time than you blokes,” GG hurled back. “And that would have counted the breaks to change the nappies.”
The major was back on the field phone giving orders. The phone offered more security than the radio. New
Zealand Telecom worked hard to provide basic service and had reverted to mechanical switching, like everyone else in the world.
Suddenly the air was ripped apart by the roar of two jets dropping down over the Bombay Hills. Noel ducked instinctively as the jets turned and flew right over Hamilton.
“First signs of a recon flight. The ‘Indos’ are slow. MiG 21s. Hmmm.” Major Smith picked up the phone to report the fly over. “Yes, Sir. We’ll keep under wraps until we’re ready. Roger that.”
“Headquarters wants a change of plan. No Americans on any recon. Only Kiwis. They want our presence here to be a surprise,” Major Smith said. “Commander, if you could put together a scout team.”
Noel gave a look to the Kiwi Commander indicating his desire to join the recon team. He wanted to see the invaders up close. They had been in the field for months now and hadn’t even seen one.
“If it’s OK with Sergeant Illingworth, go check with him,” the commander offered.
After Noel found the Kiwi sergeant, he got his answer. “Hell no,” Sergeant Illingworth said. “I know your GG means well, but this is a job for people that can move fast.”
The sergeant had seemed open to the idea of having Noel on the team, until Noel’s great-grandfather showed up and announced that he went everywhere Noel went.
Much arguing ensued, until GG essentially pulled rank. Sergeant Illingworth was one of the many that had turned out to fight when Connor Leffingwell had headed off to war. Noel knew his great-grandfather held sway with all the military men in their area, and he now used that influence.
“OK, but if you can’t keep up, I’ll send the two of you back. No bloody screw-ups now,” Illingworth said.
