by Chris Hechtl
“Leave his radio,” Harris ordered.
“Dude,” Wex said.
“If he doesn't report in they will not like it. They'll come in guns blazing. You want that? Leave. The. Radio.”
“Fine,” Wex said in disgust.
Shane nodded to a pair of guys with military haircuts. “Sorry about the base,” he said.
“Base?” one of the guys said.
“March. Fell the other week. We got as many out as we could. Most of your unit has been air lifted out now.” Which was true, Drummans had sent a second set of Sea Stallions in yesterday to pull another one hundred people out. All soldiers of course. Only the single men and women went however.
The two guys looked at each other for a moment. “Um, thanks,” one said quietly.
“We've got about a thousand dependents and a couple of hundred air force people left. A couple of shooters like PFC Mateo Hernandez too.”
“You army?” the guy on the left asked.
“Marine. Former. Now I run the mall,” he said.
“Dude's a mall cop,” Wex snickered. His crew laughed. Shane shook his head letting them have their fun. He gave Harris a long look.
Harris was like an old broken down lion with barely a tooth left but still wanting to be in charge. However the hyenas obviously ran the show.
They marched through the area and into the school. He tried not to let them know he was looking around. He was not really impressed with what they had. Trash was everywhere. There were a lot of people, and not many were looking at him with a friendly face, not many at all.
They made their way into admin and he snorted softly. Harris turned to look over his shoulder.
“Been a long time since I was called into the principal's office here,” he said.
“You...”
“First graduating class,” Shane said with a smile.
“Really,” Harris said amused. Shane shrugged.
They made their way through admin. The ceiling was messed up; he could see stained panels and wiring hanging here and there. “Power out?”
“No shit,” Wex said.
“We've got generators.”
“Yeah, not enough of them going around,” Harris said.
“We're making them. Making a lot of them for people. They are great for electric fences too. We're trading them if you’re interested.”
“Yeah man, till you run out of gas,” Wex said with a sniff.
“We can get more. We're siphoning gas,” Shane said. He wrinkled his nose when he saw the liquor bottles and broken glass in the room. Papers were everywhere. Some were crumpled up. In one corner there was a basketball hoop taped to the wall with a pyramid of crumpled paper balls under it.
“Someone's been productive,” he said. He looked at them. “So which of you sits behind the big desk these days?” he asked.
“You know what, shut the fuck up man,” Wex snarled. He kicked some papers and left.
“Don't make him an enemy,” Harris warned him. “You want to get out of here alive.”
“I'm not the enemy. I keep telling people that. We're here to work together.”
“Yeah well, it’s ugly here.”
“It's ugly everywhere.”
After a long pause a woman came in and nodded. He looked her over. She was in a filthy business suit. “Council woman, glad you can be here,” Wex sneered.
“I take it this is your troika?” Shane asked indicating the three of them. “Or four,” he nodded to the military guy who followed the woman in. It was annoying that they didn't introduce themselves.
“Hurry up with your pitch man so we can boot your ass out of here. Then you can go crawl up someone else's ass, where you belong.” Wex said dryly.
The others looked at the gang leader but didn't say anything. That was something right there, Shane thought trying to relax and not snarl. The clowns really were running the show. Great.
“I'll make this short. March has fallen. So has the hospital and most of the major places in town and the surrounding area. We're holding strong. We're turning Towngate into a fortress.”
“We're doing the same here,” Harris said cautiously.
“I saw that. We're trying to coordinate with the different groups of survivors. Work with exchanging intel about the aliens, advice on how to survive, trade, and keep communications and roads open.”
“So?” Wex asked snidely.
“So, this is a gift.” He ripped open the Velcro pocket cover and pulled a flash stick out. He held it up for all to see and then handed it to Harris. “Sixteen gigs. Intel on the aliens. Stuff to use to survive. That sort of thing. I get a new one every week so that's only a few hours old.”
“All we need to know is how to fucking frag their ass. Which we can do any ole time,” Wex drawled. “Just takes a big enough gun.”
“Unfortunately those are in short supply. We picked up some Vulcan guns and ammo from the base but the guns are messed up. Our machinists and our armorer said its going to take time to get them sorted out.”
“So?”
“So, no; heavy weapons aren't for trade. I'm betting for both sides. Same for food and water for obvious reasons. Let's get that off the table now.”
“Sounds like you ain't got jack man. Let's drop kick his ass, I've got better things to be doing.”
“Wex, tone it down,” the military guy said with a sigh. Wex gave the guy a look.
“Kiss it Gonzales.”
“Unfortunately I've got a population around eighteen thousand right now so we can't spare food. Right now the only food item we're making and trading is yeast.”
“Eighteen thousand? Shit man he's full of it,” Wex said to the others. “No fucking way. No way. Now I know you're lying.”
“Yeast?” the woman asked softly.
He decided to ignore Wex. “Yeast. For making bread or beer or other things. We've set a lab up and they can make it by the vat. You can use it with flour or to make beer. Same for algae, but that stuff is nasty. Mushrooms will be next probably. That and maybe chicken eggs and chickens.” He shrugged. The first crop of mushrooms had come in the other day. More were being harvested daily but they didn't have enough to export. Yet.
“Yeast. No sale,” Wex sniffed. The others looked disappointed.
“Well, we also have generators,” Shane offered, looking at the others.
“Generators? Big whoop.”
“Power is in short supply,” the woman said. “How...” she cleared her throat.
“Here,” he took his canteen off and handed it to her. She took a sip and fumbled with the cap.
“Power. We're converting vehicle engines into generators for power. Right now there are plenty. And plenty of gas. With power you can electrify fences, use power tools, the works.” He carefully didn't add using a washing machine. All of them were pretty rank. Obviously they didn't have a working washing machine or showers.
“What do you want in trade?” Harris asked.
“For the first one I was thinking your AV equipment. If its still any good.”
“AV?” Gonzales asked.
“Audio Visual. You've got a working studio around here somewhere. I remember from when the school was built. Cameras and equipment, most of it a decade out of date I bet, but my IT people can put it to use. We've got a growing media channel. On the web at least.” He shrugged. “They want to expand to broadcasting. I tried to get them to shoot for HAM radio and such but they've already got that worked out. Gabe, that's my IT guy, wants to head up the hill with the big M on it to what's left of the antenna farm and set up a system.”
“Huh,” the woman said softly. She nervously dry washed her hands. She nearly knocked the canteen off the desk so he picked it up and put it back on his hip.
“That all you got?” Wex tisked.
“Wind turbines, some light tools... We've got flame throwers and air guns as well. Some plastic explosives and RPG rounds but they are in limited numbers. Also a few other things. If you saved your
brass we'll take it four to one. Used brass I mean, exchange four used brass for one ready to use round.”
Gonzales looked thoughtful. He started to open his mouth but Wex spat. “Pass. That it?”
“It's a start,” Shane said looking at him. “Do you have something else in mind? We've got construction equipment but its committed to our own defensive works. I can get a team out to help you design your defenses.”
“Why?”
“Another set of eyes to plug any gaps that might have been missed. Also to help exchange ideas on how best to kill the aliens.”
“Fuck that man, you ain't getting a look at our shit,” Wex snarled. Gonzales looked reluctant but then nodded.
Harris sighed. “What about the generators? Gas or diesel you said?”
“Shit man, ain't worth crap. Once the gas is gone we'll be screwed.”
“A diesel engine can run on veggie oil. Used veggie oil can be turned into bio-diesel,” Shane explained patiently.
“I suppose you've got a crew working on that too?” Harris asked.
Shane nodded. “And farms, schools, as well as training. We've got a council aide there too. A pain in the ass named Rubix.” He looked at the woman. She blinked and then shook her head.
“You can keep him,” Harris said, looking from the woman to him. “We don't want him.”
“We've also got a full hospital now. We took in the county people. Those that survived,” he said lightly, giving Harris and Gonzales a look. Both men flushed and looked away.
“Sorry,” Harris said lamely after clearing his throat.
“So what man, parasites, who needs em,” Wex said.
“Not everyone can use Tequila as an anesthetic man,” Gonzales said shaking his head.
“Every man for himself. If they can't keep up, then shut up and hide or I'll pop a cap in their ass to put them out of my misery,” Wex said. “We don't need any more stinking parasites.”
“I heard you are claiming this end of town?” Shane asked, looking at Harris and trying to change the subject. “As your jurisdiction?”
“Yeah man, that's right. You want to make something of it?” Wex asked, chin out, arms crossed. He had Shane's Beretta in one hand. Shane realized the idiot had the safety off.
“I'm just trying to get a feel for the ground rules. Lay it all out on the table so there aren't any misunderstandings.”
“Chill Wex,” Gonzales said, giving the guy a look.
“You chill. He ain't one of my homeys dog,” Wex snarled.
“Neither am I,” Gonzales said with a glare.
“Easy,” Harris said, hands out in between the two guys. “Let's not fight.”
“Agreed. Save it for the aliens,” Shane said.
“Shut it,” Wex snarled.
“I think we need to break this up,” the woman said softly.
“Okay,” Shane said. “I've got a couple of blocks to hit today anyway,” he straightened and nodded. “Just to be clear you are saying this is your territory and you stay on your side and we stay on ours? How big a territory? I don't want my people running into yours by accident.”
“Rancho Belago,” Wex said. He looked at the others. Harris nodded. The woman gave a jerky nod. Gonzales looked grim but nodded as well.
“Fine,” he winced but hid it. His jaw clenched. Rancho had the best stuff in the city; it was the newest part after all. “We'll stay out of your territory. It goes both ways though. Stay out of ours then,” he said with a frosty tone. He turned his attention to the military group. “Gonzales do you want me to report to higher? Let them know you're alive?”
“You can get through to...”
“We've got full net like I said. President and some of the media are still broadcasting. If you've got power you can turn on a radio and listen if you want. I can trade you a radio too.”
“So what. Same shit different day,” Wex growled.
Gonzales however was more interested. “You're in touch with higher?”
Shane nodded. “General McGrath, army I think. General Drummans was in charge of evacing the March group after we pulled them out. I spoke with him yesterday before he sent a pair of Sea Stallions in to evac a hundred soldiers.” That got the military group's attention. He heard a little muttering in the hall. “A Colonel too, with the air force. Another General coordinating and quizzing the groups that are on the radio net but I forgot his name. Yes, we've talked to higher. Still no word from FEMA yet.”
“Those twits,” Harris sighed. “Can't find their way out of a box.”
“To be fair we're kind of swamped,” the woman said softly.
“Everyone is. Still their job,” Harris said. He opened the door. Shane followed him out. Wex brought up the rear with Gonzales. The last he saw of the woman she had one hand rubbing at the opposite bicep and she was biting her lip. Hard.
“Nice meeting you ma'am. Good luck,” he said waving a hand.
“Shut it man. Real ladies’ man here,” Wex said. A girl came over sporting a purple bandana, piercings all over her face and a short knotted just under her breasts. She popped a lollipop in her mouth and looked him up and down. She came over and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Miss?” Shane asked, suddenly off balance in more ways than one.
“Want me to rock your world soldier boy?” she asked. Her hands wandered South of his belt line. He became distinctly uncomfortable.
“Pass ma'am. I'm married. Kept man,” he said with a forced smile.
“Your loss,” she said with a disgusted look as she disengaged. She turned away. Wex was glaring. She gave him a smirk and bump and grind as she walked off.
Shane tried not to dash his eyes. Damn the woman had about a gallon of perfume on. Perfumes plural. His eyes itched something wicked. He looked away.
At the barricade he turned to Harris and Gonzales. “If you ever change your minds let me know. We're on the radio net and we're monitoring the guard channel.”
“We won’t, split man before I cap your ass,” Wex said, cocking the gun.
“Speaking of which?” Shane turned. “My gun? And knife?” He knew he was pushing it, but he wasn't going to leave here without the Beretta at least. He wondered if any of these idiots had watched Jericho or any of the post-apocalyptic movies and shows before invasion. Obviously they couldn't figure shit out.
“What gun?” the gang banger asked. His posse laughed. “Oh you mean this gun?” he put the barrel to Shane's temple.
Shane froze, locking eyes with Gonzales, then Harris. Both of them stood frozen.
“Knock it off Wex. Now,” Gonzales said quietly.
“Or what?”
“Or the guy pointing a bazooka at us will let rip,” a guy said, looking over his shoulder to Shane's team. He didn't sound at all happy. In fact he sounded a little shaky all of a sudden.
Wex looked and froze. Two more team members had RPGs out and another had pulled out the ma deuce. Another had a sniper rifle out and was resting on the top of a truck ready to fire. He could see the laser pointer right on Wex's chest. He was pretty sure the others did too. The entire team was shaking down to rock and roll. The gang bangers were suddenly frozen.
“It's not a bazooka it's an RPG. We make them,” Shane said conversationally. He was sort of glad Kyle had insisted on not including the plans to them on the flash sticks. Damn glad now. The last thing he wanted to do was to upgrade these yahoos. He could see they were going to be a serious problem down the road. Hell they were right now.
There was a long silent stretch as the standoff held. He turned to Gonzales who was sweating a bit. So was Harris for that matter. Both were staring at the team.
“You've got to love professionals,” Shane said quietly. “We know how to get things done,” he emphasized. That seemed to hit Gonzales.
“Yeah right,” Wex scoffed. “Gun's mine man, call it a port fee,” Wex said, disengaging the hammer and putting the gun away by shoving it behind and somehow into his drawers. “You want the knif
e man, bend over. I'll give it to you,” he said.
A girl playing with the knife with the tip of her finger cackled nervously. “I'm for that, what say you soldier boy? Wanna play?”
“Pass,” he snarled. “I can make another. Wex, don't ever, and I do mean ever come across the line. Got me?” he asked, eyes flashing.
“Fuck off man,” Wex said. “Take a long walk before I cap you now.”
“Don't call us, we won’t call you,” he snarled, walking off. His back itched, it felt like they were about to shoot him at any time. He kept walking, trying not to hunch his shoulders.
“Damn fools, he said jerking the door open.
“Takes all kinds,” Bobby said, still holding the RPG out of the sunroof. “And it takes one to know one. Dude, Jen is going to spank your ass when we get home.”
“I know,” he said climbing into the truck. Slowly the standoff was easing as both sides backed down. His motorcycle riding scouts were already revving up and turning around. Mick nodded as he passed him.
“Let's go,” he said to Horatio, climbing in. “Team cover, fall back by twos to the next intersection then we'll move on to the next objective.”
“That was too close,” Bobby said, handing the RPG down and then sitting down. “I'm guessing they said no?”
Shane grimaced as he changed channels. “Rancho Belago is now a no go zone. Keep one block away from it at least,” he said keying his mike to full broadcast. “I want a confirm from all team leaders. Repeat, Rancho Belago is a hot no go zone. ROE is fire if fired upon in that area. Mall six out,” he said clicking the mike off.
He turned to Bobby as the other team members sounded off over the radio net. Most were asking questions. “That answer your question?” he asked. “It'll be a cold day in hell before we help them again. Pass that along,” he growled. “Now let’s get something productive done.”
...*...*...*...*...
When they pulled into the mall he hid a sigh. All the department heads and all the team leaders and quite a bit of other folk were there patiently waiting for them. He was pretty sure why.
“Reception committee,” Bobby commented.
“Hopefully this one isn't as hostile,” Horatio said. “From the look of your wife though, I don't envy you man,” he said giving Shane a look.
