by Ian Daniels
“Well you pissed them off,” he started out, the official tone in his voice more evident now that the situation had been resolved.
“I pissed them off? Screw them, they’re lucky to…” but Clint caught my eye and I stopped mid sentence. I was pissed and quite frankly I didn’t care if their little feelings had gotten hurt. I also knew when to shut up too.
“Besides wanting to arrest you, they want to press charges too,” Brad continued on.
“They put a lawyer in front of me and I’ll beat the hell out of him and them again just for trying it,” I barked back.
Maybe I didn’t know when to shut up.
“Look you could and should be in some real trouble here,” Brad said, finally showing some authority. “But it’s my call so you might want to calm down and watch what you say and how you say it.”
“What’s the plan here Deputy?” Clint nimbly directed the proceedings.
“Dispatch is screaming at us to wrap up here and get into town. Sounds like its escalating and we’ll be lucky if the whole east side of the city isn’t burning down by morning.”
“So we’re free to go?” I pushed.
Brad eyed me up and down for a second as if he was going to reconsider and then finally nodded his consent.
“I need to get statements and reports, but I don’t even know if the crime scene guys are going to come out here tonight, or at all.”
“Well just give us a call when you are ready and we’ll email you our statements,” I mocked.
He knew all to well how spotty phone, power and Internet service had been where we lived.
“Thanks for your help guys, I know this was pretty crazy but you probably saved our lives, or at least mine with that woman. And listen, you might want to look at talking to someone or something. They make us do that in the department after a shooting,” he said, trying to sound wise.
“I took a psych class in college once,” I answered sarcastically. Therapy for this was not something I needed. Probably for a lot of other things, but this I could deal with. “You didn’t happen to grab my AK did you?”
“Um, well, the city guys are holding onto that. Said it was an illegal short barreled something a rather…”
“Oh bullshit! It’s a standard under folder and completely legal! Good thing I didn’t have something really scary looking with me. Are they really keeping it?”
“Afraid so. It was used in a shoot…”
“That you said isn’t even going to be investigated!” I argued back.
“You punched out two cops! You might want to take your losses on this one,” he recommended hotly, losing that cool demeanor he seemed to have so suddenly found a just a minute ago.
“I didn’t punch anybody and I want my gun back, or at the very least their names, badge numbers, and a receipt,” I had no cards left to play and we both knew it.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Yeah I’ll bet. Let’s just see how fast I come running the next time one of you guys needs help.”
Brad held up his hand and pressed a finger to his ear to better hear the report coming in over his radio.
“I’ve got to go. You guys be careful getting home, and thank you again for your help,” he said shaking Clint’s hand.
“Should I just throw my spare mags through their windshield as we drive by so they can at least shoot the thing they’re stealing from me?” I asked Clint as he started up the truck and closed his door.
“Let's go home,” he replied as easily as if we had just been stopped for a minor inconvenience like a flat tire.
Chapter 4
It was a both a short and a long drive back to Clint’s house, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Clint was as cool and collected as ever, but I knew that he was not taking this lightly. He wasn’t exactly a talker under normal circumstances, and now just being in each other’s company was therapeutic in a way. I quite honestly didn’t have any thoughts or struggles I was dealing with. If I had to do a premeditated act, or even if I had seen it coming at all, then my heart would have still been thumping, my stomach would have been twisted and aching, and my head buzzing. A quick and decisive reaction on the other hand was relatively easy for me to justify.
We were a few weeks into a new stage of the long meltdown that most people thought was an apocalypse. I personally saw it as the universe's pendulum, swinging back to the other side. We as a people had been living in such excess that had built up in a relatively short period of time, and it was all too much. It was too quick and too unsustainable.
A few saw it coming, most didn’t. Even when people realized how the over-abundances had incurred very little in the way of penalties, not many of them had prepared or done anything about it. They may have been the more dangerous ones; those who knew we were living on borrowed time and had enough fortitude to take what they needed when they needed it, instead of building a foundation in their lives that would be a solution, if even just a partial one.
I was one of the few that saw it coming and did something about it. It wasn’t like one day I just woke up and started preparing; it was a way of life. I lived nearly all my life in the country. We had winter storms and summer droughts. There were layoffs and car repairs, a person needed to be able to manage those things to maintain their lifestyle, let alone their very existence.
I knew that when some people heard news of a super volcano or asteroid, or peak oil or global warming, they freaked out and prepared for those certain events, I prepared for the general curves that life will throw which you can actually do something about. Really, no matter how deep your bunker was, it wouldn’t stop the impact of a global population eradicating meteor, so I didn’t see much use in freaking out over the thought of one.
I paid attention to the news and saw other countries and natural events, and more importantly, how people reacted and responded to those events. I learned early on that history repeats, and to take note of those things which could notably impact me and my life. If a country’s currency or economy collapsed, depending on the system they had in place and the lifestyle, there were either riots or adaptations. Likewise, with natural disasters you couldn’t predict an earthquake, flood or wildfire, but you could do some things to help insulate you from the effects of them. It wasn’t crazy, but it wasn’t commonplace either, and to that extent I didn’t make a big deal over having a few things put back to help me come out the other side if adversity should come my way. I didn’t make a big deal over it because it wasn’t a big deal to me. Apparently, I was one of the few.
Also uncommon was a person my age already having been educated to these facts and developing the principles and an attitude to go with it. I was just a few short years out of college and had lived a pretty busy life so far. I was a former tall skinny kid that wasn't all that great at anything until I finally learned to put my mind in gear. After a normal high school career of generally screwing around, I screwed around some more in college.
I had never really had much of an aptitude for education, although I loved learning. The nights I generally spent partying with friends or getting into trouble. Then between class and work, I would spend my days at the gym working out, playing basketball, or on the shooting range. I did all that when I wasn’t enjoying the outdoors with my friends, or more preferably, on my own.
I was always a loner. Never the weird, nerd with long hair and trench coat, just a quiet person that didn’t like lots of noise and stupid people who seemed to somehow flock together and become louder and more stupid. I had many good friends, but time and time again I found myself on my own and liking it that way. Friends, then family, women, they all seemed to go one after another. My ideals about what I was seeing in the world got me started on a steady path, and Clint took me with him. He didn’t do it out of pity or a perceived need that I needed to be looked after; he did it because I was a like-minded friend. Together we watched as the dominoes leaned, then fell, bringing us to where we found ourselves today.
Cl
int was already well established in this lifestyle and just being around him prodded me along. He never once pushed or shaped me, just let me make my own decisions, and mistakes. Clint was simple and refined, and I was maybe a little rough around the edges, but I could learn and perform, so the partnership worked.
The little rural town that we lived in was just like any other small town. Normal life, decent people, schools, a movie theater, parks, a small college, low crime rate... we lived in middle class rural America. But life gradually got tougher and tougher. The roller coaster had its ups and downs which toyed with people's spirits. When it finally leveled into a steady decline is when the middle class went away, and people started to forget about the America part too. We weren’t at the bottom yet, but it sure seemed like we were trying damn hard to get there.
People no longer stole to steal, they stole to eat. Enemies became friends and friends took the opportunity to exact vengeance on enemies. There were stories of useless stupidity like a guy killing his long time friend to get to his friend's wife. Stuff that people figured was acceptable to do now that everything else in life sucked, so why not? Kids were no longer precious attempts at the future, but used instead as urchins and thieves. Society's rules had changed. Laws were ignored more than ever and morals right along with them. With all that happening, it was said that we still had it relatively good here in our little town.
It took longer than in the big cities, but we finally got our very own desperate people digging through trash cans to find food. With the bad weather coming, it was only going to get worse. Dirty faces looked at you longingly or with contempt. The bad off hadn’t bought new clothes in the last year, the worse off wore layers of ragged clothing to protect their starving bodies from the freezing temperatures at night.
New beggars who once turned their nose up at the homeless were now uneasy people, unsure of how to act or what to do with themselves. Small packs of angry youths that just looked they were ready to mob and destroy their surroundings in a riot at the drop of a hat waited... for nothing. The turmoil from the bigger towns made its way out in TV and radio broadcasts for those who could still watch and hear such things. Those images imprinted themselves into people's minds before their power got cut or their landlord kicked them out. People already on the edge took what they saw others doing and followed suit, focusing their anger and helplessness on anyone who would listen or not defend themselves.
This was how the majority of people lived now and I was thankful when we finally pulled up to Clint’s driveway, way outside of town and away from the insanity. I jumped out to open the gate and he pulled the truck and trailer through. Clint and his wife Kathy had lived on this land for more than thirty years, and for the last week I had been residing on and off again in the back bedroom. It was the same bedroom that I had slept on the floor of as a little kid countless times during sleepovers with Blake. Now instead of getting pizza and video games ready, Kathy was working hard to prepare the house for Blake and Danielle’s arrival.
Clint had done his own preparing long before this last week. He, as did I, felt that a little extra work now could pay off greatly later. To that end Clint and Kathy always had plenty of firewood, a sizable garden, and enough food in the cupboards to keep from going hungry. Clint was also a do-it-yourself type of guy whether it came to building a garage, working on cars, putting together a generator to power their house, or his real passion of tinkering with guns. He was an expert in the field of amateur gunsmithing and rarely had to have someone else help with a project. His skills were those that came from years and years of experience and it showed. While not classically or even formally trained, he was like the farmer that grew up and grew old working on the farm and never had to take a class to be told how to do it.
The issue that was currently weighing heavy on Clint’s mind was that we were late into the year, which meant our normal heavy winter weather was coming soon. Firewood he had stored, but the last of the propane companies in our area had closed up shop, leaving him without a refilled tank. This wouldn’t be such a big issue if the line power was reliable out where he lived. A few years back when we lost power from a wind or snow storm, it would take the crews a few days to a week to get it restored, and that was before the cutbacks and layoffs. If we got hit with a decent storm and a tree fell on a line now, there would be no telling how long it would be out.
With no solution for that in sight, we could only do the best with what we had. In a few days time we would be whole again. Clint and I were going to meet the train that would be carrying Blake and Danielle here and we could all enjoy the misery and uncertainty together.
Chapter 5
“Hey man, good to see you! Love the beard!” Blake dropped his bag on the ground and attempted to pick me up in a big bear hug. His wiry six foot tall frame was thin, but he was strong.
Blake had never been powerfully built like I was, but his slight frame belied his actual abilities. The guy had lean muscles that were toned for true strength, not bulk that aided in force and power like mine had grown to be. What he lacked in muscle definition he made up for in mental determination. He might have always been one skinny little SOB, but I would never be dumb enough to try to wrestle with him.
“How was the trip?” Clint asked, shaking his son’s hand and then offering a hand to Danielle at the top of the platform steps.
“Terrible,” she answered, putting the strap of her carry-on bag in Clint’s waiting hand then jumping down to the platform on her own. A woman without means, she was not. “Hot, smelly, cramped, long…” she started listing the inconveniences of train travel until Blake cut her off with a laugh.
Danielle first quickly gave Clint, then me, a big hug and smile. This place wasn’t her true home, but she loved it and all of us, as if she had lived here her whole life.
They were both bundled up against the cold and discomfort of the train. Blake had his Army issue insulated parka on, and Danielle I curiously recognized had on a nice Air Force issue jacket. She told me later how she had traded it with a friend because the Air Force jackets always seemed to fit a woman better than the Army stuff did.
“We made it through okay but the faster we get our bags, the faster we can get out of here. You guys didn’t say it was this cold here already!” Blake pulled the two sides of his coat in closer and blew on his hands.
“This is balmy, you’re just too used to the sun and sand I’m thinking,” I supplied, to which Clint agreed and then added his own sarcastic opinion.
“He must just be getting soft.”
“I’ll show you soft...” Blake started in on us but his attention got sidetracked by some commotion in the line of people waiting to board the next train. “Hey, is that Jack?”
I turned around and found that the source of the noise was some pompous lady in a long white jacket and boots to match, pointing her finger in the face of a middle aged Mexican man that both Blake and I had known while growing up in town.
“Let’s go get your bags,” I said over my shoulder to Blake and started walking in the direction of the yelling lady.
“The baggage car is over here,” I heard Danielle say behind me.
“I think it’s going to be time to go soon,” Clint’s voice then advised her.
My jaw was set and I was already angry at what I was hearing, so when the lady kept on with her tirade, my disposition did not improve.
“I just left to go get my other bags and then I come back to find this grease ball, border hopping, apple picking, wet back, spic has cut in line!” the formerly rich lady was spitting racial slurs as fast as she could think of them. She was tall for a woman, slender, and too well dressed, which made me know her type right away.
“Ma’am, people are getting on the train, the line must have moved,” Jack was trying to explain. “I’m sorry you got out of line, but I didn’t cut.”
He was sounding friendly and helpful, but I could see our old friend was hurt by her words.
“I can see
you are frustrated as we all are, but there is plenty of time for us all to get on the train. There’s really no problem here.”
I glanced around quickly and other than other regular people gawking at the scene, I saw no security or cops anywhere on the platform. Crap.
“You are the problem here! Its people like you that started all this; brought us all down to your third world standards!” the rich white lady was yelling with her finger still inches in front of his face. Jack’s palms were out trying to calm the racist barrage being directed at him, but she was on a roll and not easing up.
He might have been a five foot tall midget, but the guy had worked his butt off every day of his life and had been a high school wrestling coach to boot. He could have handled any bar fight with ease, and he was also way too nice of a guy to verbally put her in her place. I wasn’t.
“Hey lady,” I approached briskly, “back off!”
I heard the steps of heavy boots behind me and knew that Blake was right on my tail for support.
She paused just long enough to see that I was one of “her people” and tried appealing to the white pride I was supposed to have.
“I’m sick of these slime ball greasers having their way with everything, thinking there’re no rules because they're in some gang!” she proclaimed loudly and half turned to me. I didn’t stop my momentum when I reached the small crowd and bulled right through the line of people to meet her face to face.
“Hey man you can’t just…” I heard someone say, then the voice stopped short as Blake reached whoever it was that was trying to get involved. I had seen before the look that I knew he must have on his face, because whoever the interloper was, they shut up very quickly without another word as soon as he reached them.
Getting right in the lady’s face, I raised my voice loud enough that I was sure everyone in earshot could clearly hear me.
“I have lived here my whole life and this man was here before you or me. It wasn’t immigrants that took us down; it was white assholes like you! Elitist, arrogant, self-righteous, entitled pieces of shit with no sense of personal responsibility. That’s what brought us to where we are! Not the hard working, law abiding families, no matter where they came from. And where the hell are you from? How long have you lived here? What have you done for this town? This community? This country?!”
