by Gideon, D.
Preacher nodded and smiled a little himself. “You need help doing it?”
“I don’t need help, but it’ll go a lot quicker.”
“Tell me what to do.”
Night had finally fallen, but this time it was anything but quiet.
Thomas’ truck pumped out music. People milled around, some talking by the burn barrel, others sitting on the grass in little clumps here and there. Once the first few had showed up and saw the water contraption, then gone hurrying home to get their own containers, the crowd had steadily grown. There were milk jugs and soda bottles lined up waiting to be filled by the hose’s new outlet at the edge of Cathy’s yard. One woman had brought a little radio flyer wagon with six milk jugs in it.
A strong, warm breeze was blowing through, catching the sparks from the fire and raining them out onto the sidewalk now and then. Dotty and Bill walked among the crowd, chatting people up and thanking them for coming out. There wasn’t any food, but there was plenty of good will and camaraderie.
Preacher sat on the sidewalk across the street, well out of the glow of the fire. From here, he could see both houses, all of the people, and the street in both directions.
He wondered if any of the people here tonight making nice had enjoyed a fresh chicken dinner back at their home. No one had seemed to be paying attention to the backyard, or had made any moves to go back there. But it was possible that one of the people here had been the one to take three of Dotty’s chickens.
They won’t be taking another one.
The latest song ended and Thomas stuck his head into the truck to pause the CD. Preacher wondered how much longer the truck battery would last. It wasn’t like they had the extra fuel to let the truck idle and build that charge back up. He sighed.
Not my truck, not my problem. Worry about what you can control.
Bill made his way to the burn barrel, the stack of census forms in his hand. He held them high and called for everyone to gather around him. As people came near, he handed them each a few of the forms. There was lots of murmuring and shuffling around as they waited for everyone to get close.
A slim figure walked out of the dark and lowered herself to the sidewalk beside him. She pulled her hair from her ponytail and bent her head forward, ruffling the locks free with her hands. When it was all fluffed out she flipped it back, tilted her head back to the sky, and sighed.
“Not joining in?” he asked.
“Nah,” Ripley said. “Too many people. Besides, I’m sore. All that going up and down stairs last night wore me out.”
“At least we got finished.”
She nodded and leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “You think anyone saw us moving the food?”
“Not in the rain.” After Frank and his posse had left, they’d all scrambled to get the stuff in the yards back into the houses. The rest of the day had been spent putting the houses back together. The assholes had pulled out drawers and dumped them on the floor, flipped the mattresses off of the beds, pulled clothes out of the closet and dropped them in piles. Then they’d walked on those piles. Furniture had been moved, pictures pulled off the wall...it had been horrible, watching Dotty walk through it.
When she’d finally finished picking her way through the destruction and they’d uprighted the kitchen table, she’d told them she wanted every scrap of food out of the house.
They’ll be back, she said. And they’ll look harder. We can’t leave anything for them to find.
Once night had fallen, he and his team of college kids had started the leg-killing chore of bringing the food up out of the cellars, sneaking it across the street, and tucking it away in the cellar of the Cobbs’ house.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming this evening,” Bill called out. “When a community comes together, good things happen. We’re living in dangerous times. We’ve got tyranny right on our doorstep. How we choose to handle that will determine how much more tyranny we’re subjected to. What we allow is what will continue.”
Preacher heard a door shut. He squinted down the street, but couldn’t see far. The cloud cover was too heavy. After the past few days, he was surprised it wasn’t raining again.
“What I did today, some may consider a crime,” Bill continued. “I don’t see it that way. As far as I’m concerned, these papers that we hold in our hands were filled out and handed in under duress, and are a severe invasion of privacy. And as you may have seen yesterday, some of them were filled out by force.” He held up a sheaf of papers paper-clipped together. Preacher had seen it. It was Dotty’s census sheet, with multiple pages of inventory listing attached. The Millers had one just like it.
“Dan’s in his yard,” Ripley said, straightening. “I don’t see Cathy.”
“She left this morning. Haven’t seen her come back,” Preacher said. Now that Ripley had pointed it out, he could see the man standing by the bushes bordering Dotty’s yard. All last week, Dan had been meeting up with Thomas right about the same time Preacher was leaving to get firewood. But since the Sheriff had called off the roadblock a couple days ago, Preacher hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the man. Ripley unfolded herself and got up; Preacher stood up with her. Marco was in an upstairs bedroom watching over the gathering with some firepower, but if trouble happened, he’d have a hard time getting a clear shot.
“Like many of you, I took an oath once upon a time: to defend and uphold the Constitution of the United States,” Bill said. “And beyond that, I took an oath to a higher power to guide, protect, and defend my fellow brothers and sisters. Taking this information back for all of you from the hands of tyrants fulfills both of those oaths.”
The two of them crossed the street and wove through the crowd as there was some scattered applause. Ripley headed towards her parents; Preacher took up a position right behind Bill and Dotty.
“Now I could have just burned these myself, but you know how we church men are about symbolism and rituals,” Bill said, smiling. There were chuckles from the crowd. “I thought it might help for everyone to be involved; for us each to do a little part in taking back some of our power and declaring our dissatisfaction with how things have been here lately. Maybe give us an opportunity to speak, and be heard, so that we know we’re not alone. Would anyone like to say a few words?”
“I would,” Seth said, holding up a hand. He stepped closer to the light of the fire. “I just want to say thank you to everyone who came out yesterday and stood witness while the city’s new police force tore apart our house. Without you there, things probably would have been a lot worse for myself and my family. Thanks to all of you, we’re not sitting in jail...or worse. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
The crowd shifted around a bit and a man Preacher didn’t recognize, that looked to be in his mid-fifties, stepped forward. “I took an oath, too,” he said. “And I’ve had to watch every year as this state stripped more and more of our rights away. There was nothing I could do about it. Voting sure as hell didn’t help; all our votes are erased by the DC rats living across the bridge.” This got a lot of murmured agreement and a few calls of damn straight and no kidding. He continued on. “But this is happening right here, in our town. If any of you here ever took an oath, I want you to please think about that. Think about it long and hard. And if you decide you’ve had enough, come talk with me. I’m at the big brown house up there-” he pointed up the street-”with the white fence. Even if you didn’t take an oath but you’re of a like mind. Stop by anytime. Anytime. I mean it.”
Preacher looked over the crowd, watching Dan. As this last fellow finished his statement, Dan moved forward into Dotty’s yard and crossed to the edge of the crowd.
“Heads up,” Preacher said to Bill, and both the little man and Dotty looked up.
“Dan?” Dotty said as Dan wove his way through the crowd. When he stepped into the firelight, Dotty gasped.
Dan sported one hell of a black eye. It was all puffed up and multi-colored. He looked down at the burn
barrel, then back up at Dotty and Bill.
“I’d like a couple of those,” Dan said, and his voice came out a bit raspy. “I know what’s been going on and I don’t support any of it. I want to help.”
Bill pulled some sheets out of the clipped inventory and handed them to Dan. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “You can definitely join in. Looks like you might need some help yourself.”
Dan made a noise halfway between a chuckle and a snort, and then visibly winced in pain. “Let’s just say not everyone agrees that what’s going on has been bad.”
“Did Cathy do this to you?” Dotty asked. “Do you need help? Someone to stay with you tonight?”
“I wouldn’t subject anyone else to this,” Dan said. “If she finds someone at the house...no. I could maybe use some new locks for my doors, if anyone has an extra laying around.” He looked around, blushing furiously but seeming determined. “The house is in my name. She can be the one to leave, if she hasn’t already.”
“I know where there’s some locks,” Preacher said. “I can bring them tomorrow.” There were at least a dozen different door locks tucked away in Teddy’s storage barn.
The man who’d pointed out his house put a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “I’m Wade. My kids moved out years ago and I’ve got two extra rooms. You come stay at my place tonight. Tomorrow I’ll come down here with you and we’ll get those locks changed.”
“I’ll help,” Preacher said.
Dan blew out a breath and wiped a hand across his good eye. “Thanks guys. I really appreciate it.”
“Okay,” Bill raised his voice and looked out over the crowd. “We’re all in this together. Come on up and let’s get this done. A revolution starts with just one spark, and we’re going to have a lot of sparks tonight.”
With that, he dropped his handful of papers into the burn barrel. A cheer went up. Seth leaned forward and dropped in the thick stack inventorying his family’s life. The applause kept going. Dan crumpled each of his pages into a ball and tossed them in, one by one.
“That didn’t go the way I expected,” Corey said behind him.
Preacher looked over his shoulder and stepped back. At the barrel, people were moving aside to let others come up and make their contribution to the fire.
“It’s good, though,” Preacher said. “Takes a lot to ask for help.”
Corey nodded. “Yeah man, I get that. I’m just thinking now we won’t get to see the crazy woman have a royal fit on her front lawn over the water.” He grinned.
Preacher cracked a smile.
A heavy engine sounded at the end of the street and rumbled their way. The crowd’s applause died down more the closer it got. After a minute, the Guard’s familiar MRAP pulled to a stop in front of them and a stern-looking man--the same Sergeant who had harassed them earlier in the week--leaned an elbow out of the window.
“Curfew is at sundown, and the City has an emergency rule about people gathering in groups larger than three,” he said. “Do you people realize how much trouble you’re in?”
Dotty
Dotty grabbed Bill’s arm as he stepped in front of her.
“Sergeant, we’ve had this conversation before. The Constitution says that we the people have the right to assemble.”
“And we’re on private property,” Dotty said. “My private property. These people are my guests.”
The Sergeant killed the engine on the big MRAP and got out. He waved a hand at his men and the two that were hanging off of the back got down to join him.
Bill went to the edge of the yard to meet them; Dotty followed close behind. She wasn’t about to let him do something as foolish as she’d seen before. Preacher started to step forward, but she shook her head at him. He settled back against Thomas’ truck with a grim expression. Seth separated from the group and shadowed her.
“There’s veterans in this group,” Wade called out. “Whatever you’re about to do, you’re doing it to your brothers in uniform.”
“You’re not doing yourself any favors, bud,” the Sergeant said. “We’ve been having more trouble from the vets than from the civilians lately.”
“Well I’m one of those veterans,” Bill said, “and I’m the church leader for this group. I assure you, sir, that we mean no harm.”
Dotty couldn’t help but notice that the man behind the big gun on the top of the MRAP had turned that long barrel to point towards her yard, and all the people standing there. Her grandkids were in its line of fire.
The thought made her blood run cold.
The Sergeant took off his little hat, crumpled it in his hands, and stuffed it into a pocket. Behind him, the two men who’d jumped off the back stared over his shoulders, weapons ready.
At least they’re not aiming at anyone. Yet.
“Sir, by law I’m required to follow the Governor’s orders. He’s set down a curfew from dusk ‘till dawn for the duration of this recovery effort.”
“And just how long is that supposed to last?” Dotty said. “We all know this isn’t going to be fixed anytime soon. We know the power grid’s down across the country. We could be at this for years.”
The Sergeant’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced back at one of his men. “If you got that information from any of the National Guardsmen that have been supporting this town, I’d like to know what their name was,” he said. “That’s privileged information.”
Dotty huffed. “We knew that before you and your men ever arrived. The whole town did. The regional head of Dominion Power announced it at a town hall more than a week ago.”
Bill nodded. “It’s the truth. Everyone standing here knows. Everyone up at the Rec Center knows, or has at least heard. Whether or not they believe it is another story.”
The Sergeant rubbed his hand over his face and let out a deep breath. He turned back to his fellow soldier again. “You believe this shit? The Mayor’s had us prancing around like we’re sitting on some big secret, and the whole town already knew.”
The soldier behind him shrugged. “Seems about par for the course,” he said. “Guy’s a dirtbag.” He paused a mere second, then added “Sir.”
The Sergeant turned back. “Okay, level with me. What else do you know?”
Dotty and Bill looked at each other. Dotty shrugged. She couldn’t think of anything she shouldn’t know.
“I know that a large amount of forms, containing the City’s unconstitutional search information and ‘census’ info given under duress, has gone missing,” Bill said.
Dotty squeezed Bill’s arm. He reached over and patted her hand. Foolish man. He was going to get himself court-martialed, or jailed, or whatever it was they did to military people.
“Is that so?” The Sergeant said, and this time he grinned. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer tyrant. Err...guy. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” He looked over the crowd and thought for a moment.
“Let me get this straight. You all are a group of civilians and former military, who claim to be peacefully assembling, past curfew and despite the ban on assemblies, is that correct?”
“Correct,” Bill and Seth said at the same time.
“On private property as guests,” Dotty put in.
The Sergeant nodded. “And as a whole, the group of you are refusing to disperse as ordered?”
“Yes,” Bill said.
“Damn straight,” Seth said. There were various sounds of agreement from the crowd.
“My grandkids are in that crowd, Sergeant,” Dotty said. “Are you going to fire upon them?”
The Sergeant frowned at her. She jutted her chin out and stood her ground. It was the elephant in the room--or in the street, she supposed--and she wasn’t going to ignore it. If it was going to happen, she wanted the kids warned enough so they could try to run.
“No ma’am,” he said. “I’ve been given orders to do so, as have all of my men. But we’ve discussed it, and we came to the conclusion that we have a duty to disobey unlawful orders. We are not willing to fi
re upon civilians.”
“Oh thank God,” Dotty said, bowing her head. Her knees felt weak. Behind her, she heard sounds of relief from the crowd.
“So it seems we’re at an impasse,” Bill said, smiling and spreading his hands. “We refuse to leave and you refuse to take action. If we had any beer, I’d offer it to you, but all we’ve got is some boiled river water.”
The Sergeant scratched the back of his head and rubbed the top of his crew cut. He was sporting a bit of a smirk again.
“I’ll have to get a rain check on that beer,” he said. “Maybe some other time we can sit down and trade war stories. But there’s no drinking on duty.”
“Like that ever stopped anyone,” Wade called out. The Sergeant grinned and pointed his way. He turned back to Bill.
“Well then, I guess I’m going to have to load my men up and move on down the road,” he said. “It’s our last tour through the town, anyway. The rest of our platoon is busy dropping tents and packing up.”
Dotty was confused. “But why? And what will happen with the meals for the people at the shelter?”
“We’ve off-loaded all of the remaining MREs, and we suspect there will be another shipment of those in a week or so, from another unit,” the Sergeant said. “As to why, we’ve got orders to pull out. We’re moving across the Bay to help guard the nuclear plant at Calvert Cliffs.”
“Is someone threatening the power plants?” Seth asked.
The Sergeant blinked at them, brows pulled together. “Wait. You know the power’s out for good but you don’t know about Michael?”
“We’ve overheard talk of a Michael,” Bill said, “but we’re still unsure as to who he is.”
The Sergeant looked shocked. “Michael isn’t a who. Michael’s a what.” He turned to the soldier behind him and waved his hand. “Get me the tablet.”
The soldier sprinted over to the MRAP and dug around in the cab for a minute. He returned with a tablet that looked like it was armored enough to survive a nuclear blast, and the Sergeant tapped and swiped the screen a bit. Finally he turned it around to face them, showing a map of the United States with a long, teardrop-shaped blob stretching from the coast of Texas to Delaware.
