Fire From the Sky: Brotherhood of Fire

by N. C. Reed

  “I told you this would happen,” Clay's bitterness reached a new level. “Now get those cattle off the trailer. Some of these hungry folks can take care of them from there. We are leaving. Now. You're driving.”

  For once Gordon didn't argue and moved to open the trailer. Angela, temporarily cowed by her son's outburst, loaded up without further comment, Brick closing the door and then standing guard over it, waiting for the rest to be ready to go.

  Once the cows were free Gordon walked to his son's side with Gordy trailing and keeping a watch around them.

  “You drive,” Clay told him without preamble. “Gordy, you're in back with me.” He turned back to the redhead and his 'gang'.

  “Any of you tries to take us, stop us, or hurt us, I kill you. Think I'm playing, try me. I ain't got much restraint or patience to begin with and you used it all up just now.”

  “Ready,” Gordy called from where he was already in the back of the truck. Brick had squeezed into the back with Angela, still protecting her as Clay had asked. Gordon had the truck started and ready. Clay waved him forward and simply rolled into the back as the truck passed him. The redhead thought to take advantage of that instant and tried to lunge at the truck only to hastily back away as a three-round burst of rifle fire chewing into the pavement at his feet. He and the others looked up to see a grim-faced Gordy, rifle leveled and ready to fire, watching them intently.

  “That was unfriendly,” the teen said grimly even as the truck picked up speed. “You don't wanna be unfriendly, Mister.”

  Before anyone could protest or answer, Gordon had the truck out of the parking lot and they were on their way home.

  -

  “We heard gunfire,” the radio crackled as the truck drove past the waiting Hummer. It swung easily into position behind the truck even as the radio added, “Sierra Romeo?”

  “Whiskey Golf,” Clay replied. “Tell you at the barn. We're stopping at the edge of town so we can get inside. Cover us when we do.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Here, dad!” Clay slapped his hand against the side of the truck three times and his father slowed, eventually stopping at the very edge of the small community. Clay and Gordy bailed out then.

  “I'll take shotgun, you take the driver side back,” Clay ordered. “That has one of us covering each side.”

  “Got it,” Gordy said easily and slid inside. Gordon had them moving again as soon as the door shut.

  “Now what happened?” Angela demanded, her temporary speechlessness now gone.

  “That bunch we faced off against had demanded we leave the truck and walk home,” Clay told her. “I did my best to reason with them, but they had decided since they needed it, they should have it. Insisted on it in fact, claiming since there was more of them, they could just take it.” He paused before adding; “Also said they'd need the truck to come collect our 'weekly contribution'.”

  “Our what now?” Angela's attitude changed all at once. “Did I hear you say 'weekly contribution'?”

  “Yep,” Gordy replied to that one, eyes never leaving the window as he maintained his watch.

  “Well,” Angela sat back, her face lined with anger. “The nerve! Here we are helping all we can and they have the gall to say something like that?”

  “I shouldn't say it, but. . .I told you so,” Clay sighed heavily. “I told you all how things would change. And this is after less than a month. Imagine what things will be like in three months. Six. Bad as today was, it's nothing compared to what's coming.”

  Not even Angela argued this time. It was a quiet ride back to the ranch at that point.

  -

  The news of what happened at the church settled on the people at home in different ways.

  “Sooner than we expected, but only just,” Deuce mused.

  “The fire is a contributing factor,” Leanne added.

  “And the organized violence in your county seat,” Jonathon Jackson contributed. He was now officially the twins' sidekick. The Dynamic Duo had become a trifecta. They were still working on a new nickname.

  “I find it hard to believe that people we've known all ou-” Alicia started to argue but her nephew cut her off gently.

  “Aunt Alicia, I saw it. We didn't do or say anything to lead this on. They saw something they needed and didn't care that it belonged to someone else. Just decided to take it.”

  “Just like those three at Greg's place,” Clay nodded slowly, still in thought. “They had laid claim to everything in the neighborhood, no matter who owned it. From the impression I got, that included not letting people take their own things if they decided to leave.”

  “Commune rules,” Jonathon said softly. “Socialist thinking. Everyone takes from the collective, but everything also goes back into the collective. Next step would be Communism, where a central power makes decisions for everyone, including who gets what's needed and who doesn't.”

  “Good luck thinking that will work around here,” Leanne snorted. “But I agree that is the likely pattern. And judging by how quickly this has happened, it might be progressing a lot faster than normal. Next, we should have some kind of 'committee' coming here to confiscate or commandeer our cattle and food, in exchange for ration coupons or some other drivel that we can exchange in Peabody for our 'fair share' of our own food.”

  “History lesson and psychobabble is fine, but what should we be doing now?” Gordy asked. “You didn't see it, but I'm telling you right now that bunch is ready to do something bad. Had they been that ready to fight when they were in Peabody, they might still be in Peabody.”

  “Mob violence tends to aim itself toward those who still respect the rule of law,” Clay pointed out. “They won't attack the real problem because they're afraid of it, so they attack someone they think won't be violent in return and just wait for the cops to get there.”

  “Well, that's just stupid,” Robert Sanders snorted. “Man ought to be willing and able to protect his family regardless of what he thinks about society or violence or anything else. I don't like violence for the sake of violence myself, but I 'll be damned if I'd sit by and watch my family endangered, let alone get hurt.”

  Patricia smiled and took his hand in hers, saying nothing. Her action said everything there was to say.

  “So, the question of what to do is still there,” Leon the Elder got the discussion back on track. Before anyone else spoke, Abigail burst into the room, face contorted in a combination of fear, anger and apprehension.

  “Is it true?” she demanded. She didn't call anyone's name, but looked directly at her Uncle Clay.

  “Is Samantha Walters one of the girls being held by that bunch of animals?”

  Clay just sighed. His long day wasn't over yet.

  -

  “What?” Angela was shocked. “Samantha's in trouble?”

  “That's what Greg said,” Clay nodded. “She's one of several younger women that have been gathered at the old shoe factory. Apparently, it's become their base of operations.”

  “What are they doing that for?” Angela asked just ahead of Abigail. Clay looked at them ruefully until they 'got it'.

  “Clayton, you have to stop this,” Angela said quietly, looking at the table.

  “Mom, there's nothing I can do about it,” Clay replied calmly. “They control the entire town and there are a lot of them. Numbers count after a while. I can't-”

  “You can't leave Sam there!” Abigail objected. “You have to rescue her!”

  “Abby, this isn't a movie or television show,” Clay kept his voice gentle. “These guys defeated an entire town. We don't have the numbers to take them on, not on their own ground. I am truly sorry that Samantha's in trouble, but there's nothing I can do. We'd be lucky not to kill her by accident, and there's no telling what our own losses would be. And while I have nothing against Samantha, she is not my concern,” he added bluntly. “She's not part of this family. While it pains me to say it, it's still true.”

  “She's my friend!�
� Abigail yelled. “My best friend! You have to help her!”

  “Abby, I don't have a way to do that,” Clay remained calm despite the emotion in the room. “There aren't enough of us. I wasn't kidding about that when I said we'd be lucky not to kill her by accident in a firefight to free her. And besides that, what do we do with the rest of them? While no one would object to bringing Samantha here to live, or at least I don't think they would, there are more being held there than Samantha. Assuming we could free her, do we leave the rest behind?”

  “You could take them to the church in Jordan,” Angela pointed out. “They wouldn't turn them away. We would have to donate more food to them but we can do that as well.”

  “No,” Leon shook his head, surprising everyone. “I'm not against trying to free the Walters girl, but we've already given too much away. You forget that we had extra in case of a bad harvest. Well, that's all gone now. If we don't have a good garden next year as well as a good crop year, we'll be hurting by next winter.”

  “We've got reserves for just such a shortfall,” Angela reminded him.

  “For us,” Leon nodded. “Not everyone else. And no, I'm not changing my mind,” he broke in before Angela could say anything. “That's threatening to take food from my great-grandchildren, and that is absolutely not happening. Period,” his last word cut off yet another reply and the others fell silent.

  “So that's it then?” Abigail was about to boil over in fury. “It's inconvenient so we can't help my friend? A friend that really liked you, Uncle Clay?”

  “It's not an inconvenience, it's just not something we can manage, that's all. This is not my fault, Abby,” Clay told her. “I didn't make this happen.”

  “You know, if you had just gone out with her instead of hooking up with some night club floozy, she might have been here when this happened!” Abigail screamed at him and Clay was on his feet in a flash, his eyes full of rage. Abigail recoiled as if she'd been physically struck when she saw the change that came over her uncle. Her eyes went wide as she finally realized what she had said.

  “Uncle Clay, I'm so sorry-” she began, but he was already moving for the back door of his mother's home.

  “Save it,” he told her quietly. “And remember this the next time your 'friends' need my help.” And with that he was out the door and gone, storming away toward his own cabin.

  “Abigail,” Leon the Elder said softly, his voice hard. “Perhaps you should go somewhere and get your mouth under control.

  “I…I didn't mean it,” a tearful Abigail stammered. “I didn't.”

  “Then why say it?” Gordy asked his sister. “Lainie has done nothing to deserve that, other than getting with Uncle Clay instead of your friend.” He stood slowly, sadness on his face. “I got work to do,” he told the rest and made his way out in silence.

  “I just wanted him to help Samantha!” Abigail began to regain some steam thanks in part to the barbs flying her way. “I don't have anything against Lainie!”

  “Sounded like you did,” Leon the Elder replied flatly. “None of it deserved, either,” he added. “Lainie spent a lot of money helping us lay in supplies for all this. Over one hundred thousand dollars as I recall,” he added thoughtfully. “Including an entire truckload of supplies and equipment for this farm and a lot more in fabric and other essential supplies. What was it Samantha Walters contributed? Or you for that matter?” Leon's voice was scathing to say the least, his eyes flinty and hard.

  “That's not fair,” Abigail muttered, her head lowering even as she turned to her parents and grand-parents for support.

  “Don't look at me,” Gordon told her calmly. “You said it, you own it. That I'm aware of, that young woman hasn't done a thing to earn any dislike from anyone in this family. Aside from you of course,” he couldn't help adding.

  “Abigail, there was no call for you to say something so crass,” Patricia surprised everyone by speaking. “It wasn't just uncalled for, or rude. It was hateful.”

  “It was still true,” Abigail retorted, though without heat. “If he had shown interest in her, she might have been here, safe, when all this happened.”

  “Doesn't matter to you at all that he didn't really like her that way, does it?” Gordon asked her. “Clayton was supposed to do what made you and your friend happy and not himself. That it?”

  “Abby, dear, you're in a hole here,” Angela said finally. “Best you stop digging, don't you think?”

  Realizing she wasn't going to get any support, Abigail stormed out of the room herself, the back door slamming as she took her anger out on her grand-parents' house. Silence reined for a moment before Robert cleared his throat.

  “I'm sorry,” he told the rest of his family. “I'm sorry you had to hear that.”

  “Wasn't you that said it,” Leon the Elder replied. “Not for you to apologize for. She's a grown-up. She wants to be treated like one, she needs to act like one.”

  “I agree,” Gordon nodded. “If Clayton says he can't do it, then we have to believe that. He hasn't hesitated to do anything else that needed doing, even if he didn't agree with it. Up to and including taking food to the Baptist church. And he was dead-on right at how that would go, too,” he added with a sigh.

  “Maybe we could let them have one vehicle?” Alicia said. “Just to-”

  “And when they come by here in our own truck for our 'weekly contribution'?” Gordon asked even before his father could speak up. “What then?”

  “Our what?” Robert frowned.

  “They said they would use the truck to collect our weekly contribution,” Gordon repeated. “This was after several demanded to know why we didn't bring more since what we gave them wasn't much for so many.”

  “We can't support all of them!” Robert's exasperation showed in his speech. “We were just helping them get by until they get organized!”

  “Uh huh,” Leon the Elder nodded slowly. “I was just as in favor as anyone of helping, but we should have expected this. Clayton did expect it, but none of us really listened.”

  “Well, it's too late now,” Gordon said, trying to get things back on track. “Bottom line is, we aren't going to give someone a vehicle they can use to rob us blind or to demand that we surrender our own food to them. As it is we can expect people to start meandering this way for handouts at best, and outright thievery at worst.” He rubbed his face and sighed. “It seems that even doing our Christian duty comes at a price.”

  “For now, we need to make sure everything here is ready for whatever eventuality we face,” Leon the Elder said to the rest. “Sooner or later we will absolutely have visitors. And you can bet that some of them will be violent.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  -

  Having left his parents' home angry, Clay decided to walk a bit and cool off before going home to face Lainie. She would be able to tell he was mad, and demand to know why. He wasn't very good at lying to her and the last thing he wanted was even more bad blood between and her and a member of his family.

  He found himself heading over to the other farm to see Greg Holloway. He hadn't taken the time to let his friend know they had managed to secure his belongings anyway, though he imagined someone would have told him by now.

  Kaitlin Caudell was working the clinic area when he got there and smiled when she saw him enter.

  “How is he?” Clay asked after exchanging greetings with the nurse.

  “He's resting but awake,” she told him. “He's much better today. He's strong and was in good health so that was a big help. Fortunately, there were no broken bones so that will speed his recovery. He 'll be making it around before you know it I'm sure. In the meantime, he's tired of lying there,” she chuckled.

  “Yeah, he's hyperactive a bit,” Clay nodded. “Okay to visit him?”

  “Sure,” she nodded. “He should be awake.”

  With a nod of thanks Clay ventured into the room where Greg was being kept under observation. He found the deputy gazing at the ceiling as if his thoug
hts were a long way away.

  “I'd say you have a lot on your mind but we both know your mind can't carry that much,” Clay said, jolting his friend from his daydreams.

  “Hah, hah. You so funny,” Greg replied, waving with the arm that wasn't bandaged and help to him with a sling. “You look pretty tired,” he added, getting a good look at Clay.

  “Hell, I am tired,” Clay sighed, taking the chair next to Greg's bed. “Been a hell of a day, starting with that big ass portable closet you call a safe. Where in the hell did you get that thing?”

  “Now see, most people would have asked where I got the stuff inside it, first,” Greg smiled. “But not you.”

  “I know where most of it came from,” Clay snorted.

  “Well, I got the safe from Tractor Supply,” Greg supplied. “The shipping container I got from Ralph Jenkins' father-in-law. He owns a shipping company and sold it to me at his costs plus delivery.”

  “Nice,” Clay nodded. “Well, in case no one told you, we brought everything you had. Your effects are in the room we gave you, though Mom may want you staying with them since they've got room. Once you're done gold-bricking here, anyway,” he sneered.

  “Just because you Army types are all chair warmers doesn't mean the real warriors are too,” Greg gave as good as he got. “I appreciate it man,” he added more seriously. “No telling what would have happened to my place while I was gone.”

  “Well, about that,” Clay sighed. “Thelma and Louise dropped by and made loud noises about anything in your house belonging to the neighborhood. Mom expects that Louise will go back and burn your house down now that we're gone.”

  “Probably,” Greg nodded ruefully. “Not my house though,” he smiled a bit. “I was renting it from old man Morris. No idea if he's still alive, but he is a tough old codger so if there's a way, he probably is. I see him again, I 'll let him know who to thank for that bonfire.”

  “We found out they set up a shelter in the big Baptist church in Jordan,” Clay continued. “Wouldn't nothing do but for my mom to load up a bunch of canned food and make Dad gather up two cows to take down there. Soon as we got there some guy tried to truck jack me. No sooner had I dealt with that than a group led by some redhead punk tried to strong arm me out of my truck. Been a hell of day, amigo.”