by Glen Tate
“Oh, hey, it’s Pete.” Rich yelled, “Over here, Pete,” and the man came over to them. Rich introduced everyone. “This is Pastor Pete,” Rich said. “He has agreed to do Mrs. Roth’s funeral.” They all shook hands.
Rich and Pastor Pete talked about the funeral service at the Grange. Pastor Pete seemed a little apprehensive, not about using the Grange, but about doing the service. “I’m not really an ordained minister, or anything,” he told Rich. Pete had studied theology on his own. He knew a lot about it, but had no formal training.
“That’s OK,” Rich said. “You’re our clergy out here.” This was another part of the “new normal” after the Collapse: people with no formal training were doing lots of jobs they technically weren’t qualified to do according to the pre-Collapse laws. But, most were doing a great job, despite the lack of credentials, which made everyone realize that pre-Collapse America required too many formal qualifications to do simple things. It made sense to have qualifications to do heart surgery—but to cut hair? The Collapse was the “do it yourself” era again in America. Like it had been up until the past fifty or sixty years.
“Hey, you want to start church services here on Sundays?” Rich asked Pete. Rich hadn’t been to church in years, but with all that was going on, wanted to get back to it, as long as it wasn’t preachy church. He knew Pete wouldn’t be like that.
Pastor Pete’s eyes lit up at the suggestion about him starting regular church services out there. “That would be great. Really great.” He paused. “This is what I’ve been waiting for; a chance to have a church.” He caught himself, “Not like I wanted all this to happen, of course.”
“Of course,” said Rich.
Grant and Drew arrived at the Grange on their borrowed mopeds.
“A motorcycle gang of lawyers and accountants on mopeds,” Bobby said, pointing at Grant and Drew. “We can fight off bad asses like this.” Everyone laughed.
Rich introduced Grant to Pete. Grant starting thinking about how nice it would be to have a church at Pierce Point. It would bring the community together even more. And, because Rich told Grant that Pastor Pete was not a “Bible thumper,” it was unlikely that the church services would divide people.
Grant hated to admit what his next thought was: politics. Having church services would be good for the governance out there. People would meet—voluntarily—over something other than shifts for guard duty or taking turns cooking in the Grange kitchen. It would bring back a sense of normalcy out there. Actually, since most people in Pierce Point didn’t regularly attend church, it could be a new thing for many people; a community thing. Plus, Pastor Pete could perform functions that all societies needed: funerals, weddings, deathbed counseling, giving hope to those grieving after the loss of a loved one. This was important. Surviving wasn’t just about food and water. People needed a society to thrive.
A truck drove up from the direction of the gate, which was a few miles down the main road. Dan got out of the cab and came over.
He met Pastor Pete, who he recognized but didn’t really know. Dan said, “Oh, great. We have a chaplain. My guys and gals out at the gate—and soon to be on the beach patrol—could use a chaplain. They can’t get to church and…well, with what’s going on, they could use it. We all could. I know I can.”
Dan added quickly, “Of course, it’s totally voluntary.”
Pastor Pete said, “Oh, of course. It doesn’t work when you force things on people. I have some counseling training so I won’t approach everything from the religious standpoint if that’s not what people want. I’m just a guy people can talk to.”
Perfect. Grant was determined not to let things needlessly start dividing people. There would be enough of that coming. Fights over food, work, everything. They didn’t need religion to be added to that. Or race, or anything else. They needed to get through this together.
The Grange ladies started serving lunch. It was early for that, but Rich explained that they would be going out in the field to do the census so they had to eat now. They sat down to eat more good stuff; this time made by a different crew than the day before, but one that could cook just as well.
While they were eating, Grant asked if anyone out there had a copy machine and paper. One of the ladies, Barbara, said her husband was a realtor and had a home office where he made fliers. He had a good sized copy machine and boxes of paper. Grant asked if he could talk to her husband sometime because he had a special use in mind for the copier.
“I’ll have him come by tonight for the meeting,” Barbara said. “His name is Ken. Ken Dolphson.”
“Thanks,” Grant said. He had to find out Ken’s politics. If Ken was a Loyalist, he probably wouldn’t want to do what Grant had in mind for that copy machine.
Lunch was over, and the Team headed out on foot to the houses nearest to the Grange. Drew rode along on a moped in case one of them needed to get back to the Grange in a hurry if the Team were called out to go do some SWAT work. He’d be the escort. Rich and Dan headed to the gate while Pastor Pete stayed behind and worked with the ladies on the funeral plans.
Bobby asked Ryan if they should just walk down the road or be a little more “tactical” by thinking about cover. Grant was glad that Bobby asked Ryan, instead of him or Pow. It showed that the Team was looking to Ryan for leadership on questions like this. The Team was, after all, a group of civilians with no combat experience. Walking up on houses was more of an infantry exercise and something Ryan knew well.
“Nah,” Ryan said, “just walk down the road. We have no reason to think people are trying to shoot us.” He added, “But I’m glad you’re thinking of these things.” Grant was glad Ryan answered this way because he didn’t want the residents to think the Team was sneaking up on them. They were a resource, not a threat.
Houses seemed to be about a quarter mile apart. The Team wished they could just drive to all the houses, but gas was tight right now. Some of the residences had fairly long roads leading to a house or occasionally a mobile home and some were hidden in the woods.
Ryan approached each house slowly, yet loudly. Many houses had barking dogs. Some dogs were loose, which was a problem for the Team.
Ryan would do the knocking. Pierce Point residents might recognize him, but they certainly wouldn’t recognize the Team. Also, Ryan didn’t have an AR yet, which made him seem like less of a threat. The last thing they wanted was a friendly fire incident from a panicked homeowner.
Once someone answered the door, Ryan would introduce himself and then the Team. They would chat with the homeowners. Pow, Bobby, and Scotty would casually look around for anything interesting. Grant told them to pay attention to any bumper stickers on cars because they could give clues about politics. Wes, the former equipment rental mechanic, was looking for equipment that might be useful. Drew and Grant would fill out information on clipboards.
Most people were very glad to see them, especially the ones who hadn’t been to the meetings at the Grange as they hadn’t seen too many people in several days. They had been cooped up in their homes watching TV and worrying. The nice, well-armed young men knocking at the door represented law and order. Grant and Drew weren’t exactly young, but they added a sense of supervision to the Team. The Team regretted having eaten an early lunch because most people were asking them to come in and eat.
Grant was doing his best to figure out people’s politics, but he wasn’t pushing it. The most he did was ask what people did for a living. If they were government employees, he would stop the political probing. There was a good chance they were Loyalists. It wasn’t a certainty that government employees were Loyalists, just a better chance. Grant felt weird obsessing about politics like he was—what kind of snoop comes onto a person’s property to look at their bumper stickers? But he knew that politics was important. Pierce Point would either be a divided group of people just getting by, or a Patriot stronghold. He was working hard to steer it in a definite direction.
About half of the people volunteer
ed to do anything they could to help. The other half just greeted them and gave out basic information. They weren’t very talkative, which was understandable considering that well-armed strangers were asking questions in a time when there were no police.
A few people seemed like they might be problems in the future. One older lady was wildly incoherent, likely off of her medications. Finally, they had to leave her house because they couldn’t understand what she was saying. Something about her cats.
One place was a definite red flag. It was a very rundown place, which wasn’t the problem because about a quarter of the places were rundown, and the people in them were usually perfectly fine. But this house had the lights on and it seemed like people were home. However, no one answered the door, even after repeated knocks from Ryan. Whoever was inside did not want to talk to them.
“This is one to watch,” Grant said to Ryan, who nodded. Grant made a note of it in his records.
Time flew by. It was 5:30 pm. They had to walk back about a mile and a half to the Grange. The meeting would be at 7:00 p.m. and Grant was hoping to meet the realtor with the copy machine.
“Let’s head back,” he said. The guys were getting hungry despite all the snacks they were given by residents.
Grant was holding up better than he thought for an old guy who had only a few hours of sleep. Once again, he thought about how important it was to be in shape. It was one of the most important preparations he made.
The Grange and the tasty dinner inside seemed like heaven as the building came into view.
Grant saw Lisa in the parking lot taking a break. She waved at him. It reminded Grant of when he would visit her at work when she worked in a real hospital.
“What a day,” he said to the Team as they got to the parking lot. He felt great. This was what he was supposed to be doing. He loved these guys and his wife was out there now. They were the perfect people in exactly the right place.
Chapter 111
No Government Needed
(May 11)
Grant was tired, but his job wasn’t done. He wolfed down another fantastic home cooked farm dinner that consisted of steaks of some kind, probably deer, baked potatoes, and applesauce. Dang, these ladies could cook. What a lifesaver. Grant’s stored food at the cabin, as good as it was, wouldn’t last too long with all the guests he had. He realized, despite his best efforts, that mutual community support and growing food is the only way. Food storage is a vital necessity, but isn’t enough for a long-term situation.
As he waited for the meeting to start, Grant could feel that the intensity was building up at each meeting. Each day, there were more and more political issues, like persuading the community to accept ideas such as the jail and judge. Grant could sense that each day, his opponents, guys like Snelling, were caucusing among themselves and coming up with reasons to oppose him and Rich and everyone else.
Grant, who was normally a polite and diplomatic guy, knew that he needed to have an edge in these meetings. The residents were looking for a leader; a passionate and even forceful person to follow. However, “forceful” could be taken too far; the residents were rightly afraid of a dictator or a hothead taking over. Therefore, passion needed to be tempered with reason and logic, and even humor when possible. Sharp words, calmly spoken, were how to win this fight.
And it was a fight. Pierce Point could easily become a jumbled homeowners’ association of weak and indecisive committees that couldn’t agree on having guards, and therefore, inadvertently, letting criminals walk right in. Grant imagined that was exactly what was occurring at his old neighborhood in Olympia, the Cedars.
The Grange meetings were serious business. Politics—persuading people to do the right thing—could very easily be a matter of life and death. Politics can get whole communities killed just as easy as bullets. In fact, often the bullets kill a community because politics broke down. That was certainly true of the former United States, or “FUSA,” as everyone was starting to call it. People quit doing the right thing, and things broke down. The bullets flew. Pierce Point was a mini version of America. They would either do the right thing out there, which was following the Constitution and being decent to each other, or they would break down and the looters would walk in and slaughter everyone. Politics was serious business.
People were filing into the meeting; mostly familiar faces, but some new ones. It seemed like more and more people were venturing out of their homes and finding rides to the Grange to see what was going on.
This was good and a challenge at the same time. It was good that people were viewing the Grange meetings as the place where community decisions were made. It was a challenge because it meant more people with different viewpoints who needed to be persuaded. Not bossed around—that didn’t work—but persuaded. In a larger crowd, there would be more Loyalists. Oh well. That’s the job Grant had been given and he would do his best.
The first order of business was Mrs. Roth’s funeral. Rich introduced Pastor Pete. They discussed the funeral and picked a date for it, which would be the next day at 10:00 a.m. Without embalming fluid, sooner was better than later. The group agreed to Pastor Pete’s idea for a cemetery. It would be the vacant lot overlooking the water. Grant silently wondered if it would be big enough. He imagined that there would be plenty more people dying soon, but he didn’t want to say that out loud. He suspected others were thinking the same thing, however.
It was good that the community was working together on a governance issue like a cemetery. This was one of the first tests for the group, and it was going well. The next test that night would be the church services. Would that divide people?
Pastor Pete asked if the community wanted regular church services. They did. Some asked what kind of church. Pastor Pete described it as non-denominational. “I know that we have people of many, many different denominations out there. There are plenty of things we all agree on. That’s what the services will be about. Anyone can talk to me at any time about this and I will make sure to listen. I want people at church, not to drive them away.”
Dan described how Pastor Pete would also be the chaplain of the guards and beach patrol. Pastor Pete added that he would be happy to counsel people and would officiate at funerals and—he said with a smile—“hopefully weddings, too.” Many people in the crowd said they weren’t exactly “church people,” but were looking forward to attending on Sunday.
Rich then motioned for Grant to come up. Rich whispered, “Should we tell them our idea for the jail and judge?”
Grant whispered back, “Might as well.”
Rich said to the audience, “OK, we have a proposal for you on a vital community matter. A jail and a judge. We have been very fortunate over the past few days to not have any crime, at least, that has been reported to us. That will change. While people protecting their homes and property is the main defense against crime, the guards and Team will likely be catching people, and the question is what to do with them.”
“Shoot ‘em!” someone yelled out. Some people laughed.
Rich didn’t laugh. “That’s not going to work for some things, like small thefts,” Rich said. “I don’t want to live in a place where a kid stealing a can of gas gets executed for it.” The crowd was quiet. The “shoot ‘em!” guy probably felt a little embarrassed.
Rich continued, “But, on the other side of the spectrum, I don’t think we want all the bells and whistles of the current…I mean former legal system. It was pretty good at letting criminals go over and over again.” Rich let that sink in. He wanted there to be a little “shoot ‘em!” sentiment in the crowd, just not too much.
“So,” Rich said, “we have a proposal to have a simple—simple—set of laws out here. Stealing small amounts, and we’ll define those and open it up for debate, would result in jail time. Probably a shorter jail time. Everyone in the community would know who the thief was, which is fine if it means a safer community. Stealing larger amounts would result in more jail time. People in jail would work,
of course. We don’t want to give them an incentive to sit in jail and get free food. The community would need to feed them, so they’ll need to work for their meals.”
“Feed them?” someone yelled out.
Rich snapped back, “Yes. Feed them. We’re not animals. We need to come out of this with our humanity intact. If we start shooting each other over little things, we might as well be living in Frederickson or Olympia or, God forbid, Seattle. Anyone who wants that is free to go.”
It was silent. Grant thought that only a respected former law enforcement officer like Rich could have the credibility with the crowd to say this. Grant thanked God that Rich was there.
“Now, for serious crimes, like rape and murder,” Rich said, “well, we will shoot ‘em.” That got some applause from the crowd. “Maybe hang them. We can decide that. I’m leaning toward hanging. It makes much more of a statement than shooting.” More applause. Everyone in that meeting was afraid of rampant crime. They were afraid that the old way of preventing crime—formal police and courts—was over with. They craved a new solution to this problem.
Rich motioned for Grant to come up to the front of the room. “Grant here, who was a lawyer,” it was funny to hear that in the past tense but it was true, “has some ideas on how to do all this. Don’t hate him because he was a lawyer,” Rich said with a smile. Rich wasn’t just cracking a joke; he was communicating something important: you may hate lawyers, but you need one now and this one isn’t a piece of crap like most are.
Grant knew this was an important presentation. There was a lot at stake. He got up to the podium and started off, surprised by the wave of calm he felt in himself. He was strangely confident. He was going to nail this.
“My basic plan,” Grant said, “is, one, simplicity, two, the Constitution—the real Constitution, not all the made up stuff they’ve come up with lately—and, three, transparency. Here’s what I mean,” he said pointing one finger up to show the number one.
