by John Chapman
When 3rd Troop’s Bravo team pulled into view of the Giant Eagle grocery store, they were surprised to see an orderly line of about 100 people formed at the main entrance. “What the what?” Trent asked. Andy Card, a Sebring cop and former Army Infantryman who had walked the 20 miles from Sebring to the range last night, who was manning the M249 in the turret of the MRAP, yelled down, “Hey, do you guys see this?” Trent yelled up, “Yeah.”
Ernesto brought the huge combat vehicle to a halt in the far northeast corner of the Giant Eagle parking lot. Trent grabbed his binos from his assault pack and started glassing the store. All of the folks he could see standing in line looked cold, but they seemed to be bearing the wait well enough. A lot of them were holding or sitting on bicycles. Trent told Ernesto to pull up to about 50 yards from the doors, next to the building, and to park facing north so Andy could pull overwatch. After Ernesto got the MRAP positioned and shut down, Trent told Andy, “We are going to go see what’s up. I’m leaving you and Ernesto here.” Andy said, “Roger,” and Trent told the four assaulters in the back, “Let’s go.” They exited the MRAP, formed up into a loose diamond, and walked up to the main doors, all eyes in the line watching them closely.
When they got to the door they were met by a very thin guy with a big mane of white hair, wearing a Giant Eagle polo shirt, who was holding a Mossberg hunting shotgun with a Realtree camo stock in the crook of his arm like a bird hunter. As he approached the man, Trent could see his nametag said ‘Bill, Store Manager’. “Good Morning Bill.” Trent said in greeting. Bill looked Trent and the Bravo team assaulters up and down, taking in the full view of the men carrying rifles and wearing plate carriers with ‘POLICE’ on the front, and ballistic helmets. After a moment Bill said, “Hello. I assume you guys are from the government, and you’re here to help?”
Trent laughed and said, “No sir. We are just out checking on folks and saw the line. What’s the plan here?” Bill chuckled and replied, “You can call me Bill. Well, after the lights went out we were able to seal up the store. Most of us slept here last night. This morning, I figured we have food people need, so when folks started coming around, we decided to open up for the day.” Trent said, “That’s awesome Bill. Are you charging people for the food?” Bill shook his head, “No, hardly anyone has cash, and I’m not sure paper money is worth anything right now anyway. Besides, none of the credit card machines work; so we are limiting people to four perishable items, thawed meat or a cooked chicken, veggies and bread mostly. After they make their selections we do a simple IOU and have them sign it.”
“That’s a great idea Bill,” Trent said, “Thank you for distributing the food. It’s a good idea to get rid of the perishable stuff. Why let it rot if people can eat it now.” Bill said, “Exactly. Most folks can cook on their gas grills, and some houses still have gas service, so they have a way to cook it. We are not letting anyone take anything canned or shelf stable for now. I figure the fresh food will be mostly gone today. We still have gas service so the ovens in the bakery and the rotisserie chicken cooker still work, so we are cooking our asses off, baking bread and cooking our stock of chickens.”
Bill stopped talking as three people came out of the store, each with two plastic grocery bags. Trent noticed they each had a whole chicken in one bag and a bag salad and loaf of bread in the other. Two of them got on bicycles they had left outside. Bill passed three more customers into the store after they parked their bikes. When he was done, he turned back to speak to Trent, “I only have three employees to escort people, so we are doing three customers at a time. Anyway, I figure by the time we are out of fresh food the frozen stuff will have thawed, and we can start distributing that. I’m saving the shelf stable foods for last.”
Trent nodded, impressed with Bill’s leadership and organizational skill. He said, “Well, this crowd looks calm, but sooner or later you are going to have issues with people trying to force their way in or robbing these folks after they leave. Also, people are already looting and burning buildings over in Second Ward, and I’d imagine that crap will make its way here later today. I can’t leave anyone here now, but I am going to put in a request to assign a team here for security as soon as possible. You’re doing God’s work here Bill, we need to do what we can to keep you going until the store is out of food.” Bill nodded and said, “Thank you. I’ve only got six people here, including me, and this one shotgun one of my stock clerks had in her truck.” Bill then lowered his voice and said, “She only had three rounds of birdshot for it, so it’s mostly for show.”
Trent raised his eyebrows and said, “Well, that’s something I can help with. Do you know how to use an AK?” Bill nodded and said, “Yeah, I got some trigger time on one when I was in the Marines, in a foreign weapons FAM course.” Trent got on the radio and said, “Knight Three-Bravo-Two, Knight Three-Bravo-One.” Ernesto said, “Go ahead.” Trent replied, “I’m sending someone back to the truck to grab one of the spare rifles and some ammo. One of the AK’s we captured last night. Have one ready for them please.” “Roger that.” Ernesto responded. Trent pointed at one of his assaulters, who turned around a hauled ass back to the MRAP.
When he returned with the AK, three magazines, and one of the cheap vests they’d captured last night, Trent had him hold the rifle so he could transcribe the serial number into his notebook. No one had said anything about it, but he figured David or Bones would want accountability for all the captured weapons at some point. When he was done, he handed the rifle, vest and magazines to Bill and said, “This should work a little better than that duck gun. I have no idea if it’s zero’d. If the blood stains on the vest bother you just shoot some spray paint over them.” Bill chuckled and said, “Thank you! I was pretty worried about having to shoot someone with this mallard slayer. I’ll use the stains to remind me this is a new world.” Trent nodded and asked, “Do you need to use the bathroom or anything while we are here?” Bill said, “Oh my goodness yes! Thank you. I’ll be right back.” And was gone like a shot.
While his guys watched the door, Trent took a minute to walk up and down the line of people waiting to get in. He answered their questions about what had happened (“We think it was an EMP”) and what was going to happen now (“We all pull together and do what we can to help each other recover”). People started getting out of line to listen to his answers, so he waited until everyone gathered around and raised his voice so he could be heard, “Folks, my name is Trent, and I’m a Police Officer here in Alliance. We don’t know exactly what happened, but we think we were hit with an electromagnetic pulse, which fried the power grid, most vehicles and our long-range communications networks. We are pretty sure this is a nation-wide event. The city is getting organized to help, but we need everyone to try the best they can to help themselves and their neighbors. It’s only been about 20 hours since the event, so we are still scrambling, but we are moving as fast as we can. We need your help. We are Americans, and we help one another in times like these.”
Trent could see a lot of people nodding their heads and murmuring agreement, and continued his impromptu speech, “Right now we are trying to secure the area around Walmart to be our base of operations for the recovery, and the plan is for it to be open for business tomorrow morning. If you can help in some way, please come there and check in. In the meantime, take care of your families and your neighbors. 911 is obviously not working, so please use your best judgment and handle your own security for now.” He paused and tried to think of anything else he could say, then Trent remembered the water treatment plant. He continued, “The Water Department has been working hard, and managed to stabilize the water supply and sewage treatment. Your tap water at home is safe to drink and your toilets will still work, and as long as we can find fuel it will stay that way. Please conserve bottled water in case something else goes wrong.” The crowd made understanding noises.
Someone in the crowd asked, “Any idea where we can get medications? I’m not out yet but I will be in about a week.�
� Trent said, “I’m not sure. I know we are working on plans for medication, but I don’t have an answer for that.” He heard an “OK, thanks.” from the crowd, and decided it was time to wrap this up before he said something stupid. Trent said, “Folks, I hate to cut it short but we have to get moving. Thank you for your calm and understanding. We have to help one another through this, and you folks taking responsibility for yourselves goes a long way. Thank you.” Several people said, “Thank you,” and “Thanks for your service,” as the crowd broke up and got back in line.
When Trent got back to the main doors he saw an older man in a Vietnam Veteran hat standing with Bill and chatting with the team. Bill said, “Trent, this is Harry. He and I see each other at the VFW a lot. He wants to help me run the door, and I could use a hand. Any chance you have another one of these commie rifles for him?” Trent smiled and said, “Absolutely Bill,” and shook Harry’s hand. When Trent turned to ask an assaulter to go grab Harry a gun, he saw one was already jogging to the MRAP.
Once he came back with another AK and some mags, and Trent wrote down the serial number, he said, “We have to take off Bill. You and Harry should make a plan to get the employees out of here if things get out of hand. The food here is important in the short term, but your lives are worth more long term. Be smart please. We will check on you as much as we can.” Bill gave a curt nod and said, “Understood. You guys be safe out there. I think this thing is going to get bad soon.”
Once the team was mounted up Ernesto pulled out of the parking lot to head to the hospital, while Trent wrote some notes about the situation at Giant Eagle. When he was done he looked up at Ernesto and asked, “You ready to do the hospital thing again?” Ernesto grimaced and said, “No, but it needs doing. I feel like we abandoned them last night, but I don’t know what else we could have done.” Trent replied, “I know what you mean. We showed up, shot some dude, and left. I hope they’ve gotten things under control.” Ernesto said, “That’s the key in my mind bro. We can’t do everything, even for the hospital. These people have to help themselves.” Trent shrugged and replied, “Everyone is going to have to harden up. Personal responsibility is back in style.” Ernesto nodded and said, “We’re all we got Bro.”
Chapter 21
Eastern Avenue SW, Ward 4
Alliance, OH
“I should have sold my Bitcoin! I’m out like $57,000. This apocalypse is ruining my hustle!” Anson Cross complained bitterly to Kyle as he drove the lead vehicle in the two-vehicle up armored HMWWV convoy towards Judge Morris’ house in south Alliance. Kyle sat in the passenger seat of the HMWWV trying to tune Anson out. Taking a bullet to the helmet the night before in the Walmart fight had gotten Anson put on light duty for the day, making him miss 1st Troop’s mission to Camp Ravenna. But after examining him, David declared him ‘fit for driver duty’. Kyle quoted David to Anson earlier at the FOB when he’d told Anson he was driving for 3rd Troop’s Alpha team on the Judge recovery mission. “How is ‘fit for driver duty’ even a thing? I think he made that up,” Anson said. Kyle’s reply was simple, “Ya’ think? Get your gear and get in the Humvee.”
As they turned the corner onto Eastern Avenue from Stark Drive Kyle knew something was wrong. As soon as they crossed the apex of the right-hand turn, Kyle could see three bicycles laying akimbo in the street in front of Judge Morris’ house, on his right only 30 yards or so away. As the HMWWV completed the turn, and the Judge’s front yard and home were exposed to his vision, he saw two hood rats standing on Judge Morris’ lawn. Both were over six feet tall, and both were armed. The guy closest to Kyle’s direction was wearing a red beanie on his head, a gold colored jacket and black pants that sagged below his butt, and was holding a black long gun Kyle didn’t recognize. The second dong was wearing a black puffy jacket and similarly sagging pants, and was armed with an AK. Neither one of them were pointing their rifles, but that didn’t matter. They didn’t belong there, and whatever their purpose was, it was bad.
By the time Kyle processed what he was seeing Anson had brought the HMWWV to a screeching halt. The assaulter on the belt fed above Kyle’s head was yelling at the two dongs on the Judge’s lawn in his cop voice, “Drop your weapons and get down on the ground!” Kyle would have just burned them down, but the cop on the machinegun was a young Akron SWAT cop who was still making the mental transition from cop to assaulter that Kyle had made about an hour into the crisis.
Before Kyle could tell the Akron kid to mow the two of them down, a 5’1”, 90-pound ball of fury, who Kyle recognized as Ward 5 City Councilwoman Shimla Musk, came running out from the side of Judge Morris’ house, waving her arms and yelling something no one in the HMWWV could understand. Luckily for Councilwoman Musk, the kid on the belt fed hesitated again. Kyle grabbed the kid’s leg and said loudly, “Hold fire unless one of those dongs gets sideways.” The kid replied, “Roger.”
The vehicle commander in the second HMWWV, 3rd Troop’s Alpha team leader, Ken Branch, saw the armed men and directed his driver to pull up on the left side of the lead vehicle, giving them two machineguns on the scene without making the Judge’s home the backstop for their rounds. Kyle managed to get the up-armored HMWWV door open, reminding him he needed to start lifting weights again, and calmly spoke to the irate Councilwoman, “Shimla, what the hell are you doing at the Judge’s house, and why do you have these guys with you?”
“Screw you Kyle Wilson!” Musk began. “You racist cops are killin’ my people in Ward 5, takin’ advantage of this disaster to kill as many black folks as you can before the Army gets here! I come over here to get Judge Morris to make ya’ll stop, but that cracker ass cracker too scared to come on up out his house! I brought these young black men to protect me from yo’ genocide!” Kyle remembered all the times Shimla Musk had insulted the police in general, and the Alliance Police Department in particular; the ‘no’ votes on contracts and equipment requests, the resolutions in support of cop killers, the constant drumbeat of ‘community activism’ targeting specific officers who were just trying to do their jobs.
Kyle seriously considered just shooting her. Shimla Musk was very close to being ‘caught in the crossfire’ as his team engaged the two armed men they came upon in Judge Morris’ yard. No, Kyle stopped himself, I’m not a savage. Instead, Kyle just said, “Shimla, you must have gotten some bad information. Our guys have only fought back when attacked. You need to leave and go home. Ward 5 needs you to lead them through this crisis. I am here to take the Judge to see the Mayor. I am sure the Mayor will let you know when he can gather a quorum of the City Council. That is the proper forum for your concerns, not in Judge Morris’ front yard.”
Councilwoman Musk screamed in response, “No! I demand you take me to the Mayor right now and stop all police work until the City Council meets and issues you orders!” As she spoke, her two goons moved up to stand on each side of her, keeping their guns pointed at the ground, but making it obvious they were ready to shoot it out. Kyle looked up at the sky and closed his eyes, letting out a long breath before responding, “Councilwoman Musk, that is not going to happen. I suggest, for the last time, that you take your ‘guards’, get on your little bicycles, and pedal on back to Ward 5.”
As Musk was formulating a response, Judge Morris quietly stepped out onto his front porch, which was located on the left side of his house and out of the line of fire from the HMWWVs. He was dressed in Carhart pants and a heavy tan hunting jacket, wearing a large backpack, and carrying an M1A. Kyle knew the Judge could shoot, they practiced High Power rifle together in the summers. Judge Morris spoke, using his ‘judge voice’, “Shimla, take your thugs and get the hell off my lawn.” Musk startled when she heard the Judge’s voice, and spun around to yell at him. The Judge also startled Shimla’s hood rat on her right, and he spun around and brought his rifle to his shoulder. That was all Darren, the assaulter manning the machinegun in the second HMWWV, needed. Already sighted on the thug on the left, Darren simply pressed the trigger of his Mk46 for two sh
ort bursts, sending nine rounds of high cyclic rate 5.56mm fire into the dirtbag. He went down like a puppet whose strings were cut.
Before Musk could react to her nephew’s death from a terminal case of stupid, Judge Morris raised his M1A and shot her other nephew in the head. After the heavy 7.62X51 round plowed through the center of the dong’s head, it struck the second HMWWV in the armored right-front quarter panel and careened off into space. Councilwoman Musk stood frozen in horror, covered in her two nephews’ blood, and unable to form a coherent thought. Judge Morris stepped off his porch and walked to her. He stopped about 12 inches from her and said, “Shimla, go home. You are out of your depth. The City is in a state of emergency, and your position on the council means very little right now. The Mayor is in charge. If you foment unrest in Ward 5 I will have you arrested.” Musk continued to stand perfectly still and did not respond.
The Judge shrugged his shoulders at her lack of response and walked to Kyle. They shook hands and Morris said, “Thank you for coming to get me Kyle.” Kyle replied, “My pleasure Sir. Where is your wife Sir?” The Judge looked down and said, “I don’t know Kyle. She was on a plane headed across the Atlantic Ocean when it hit. I fear the worst.” Kyle put his arm on the Judge’s shoulder and quietly said, “I’m sorry Sir.” “It’s God’s will Kyle, I just have to deal with it.” Judge Morris said sadly, then continued, “On the bright side, I can cancel the three felony domestic violence warrants I issued for Shimla’s nephew, Tareek Musk, last week,” motioning with his head to the thug whose brains the Judge had just used to fertilize his lawn. Kyle sighed and said, “Well, there is that Sir.” as he opened the back-passenger door for the Judge and motioned him into the vehicle.
