by Joe Nobody
“They all suck! And I was so full of bullshit pride and worthless patriotism, going to defend the honor of the United States of America.” Mr. Beltran paused, the memories flooding his mind. “You know as well as I do, all that BS means nothing. It wasn’t long before all I cared about was the men serving next to me. It wasn’t flag, or God, or country. It was the 18-year-old kid trekking through the rainforest with me. The grunt eating dirt and drinking in lungs full of cordite smoke. He’s what mattered… and nothing else.”
Mack turned and faced his mentor, nodding. “Yes, suh, I do understand.”
“It’s just like the ranch,” the boss continued. “All that matters is the people here. If we don’t take care of each other, no one will. Nobody will give a shit. There won’t be any rescue or miracle; we’re responsible for our own survival.”
Mack nodded his agreement and watched as Mr. Beltran turned and stared back at the big map. The foreman wasted no time and moved to point at a spot on the northeast boundary of the property. “Here,” he announced. “We found the herd grazing in this region. The one carcass was in the same general area.”
The old rancher rubbed his chin, studying the depicted area. Mack moved out of the way, as Mr. Beltran raised his arm. There’s only one way in and out of that section. I think we’ve solved our mystery. Someone from Fort Stockdale is using my herd for a grocery store.”
Mack followed Mr. Beltran’s finger and raised his eyebrows. “That would make sense, suh. We’ve not heard much from up that way for months. Anyone left in the town has to be getting desperate. What do you want to do?”
Carlos turned away from the drawing and stared at the wall of honor. The fact that many of the displays represented accolades awarded posthumously didn’t escape his attention. He turned back to Mack and announced, “We don’t want to start a war. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, and until we’re for sure, I want to tread carefully. Besides, feeding our animals is a higher priority right now. Without some feed, we can hunt down rustlers all we want, and it won’t do a bit of good.”
Mack only nodded, waiting for the boss’ orders. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Mack, I want you to assign two men to follow the herd. They are to observe and scout only. They are not to engage, and I want you to make that absolutely clear. I’m going to take a couple of the boys and head to Meraton in the next few days. Maybe that bartender everyone keeps talking about has heard of some grain or other food source. You’re in charge while I’m gone.”
Mack didn’t like the idea. In a tone tempered by respect, he objected, “Suh, I would prefer if you let me or one of the other men go into that town. That’s a dangerous place, and a successful man such as yourself might be a target. It hasn’t been that long since we lost a man there to bank robbers. There have been shootouts, dopers, and all kinds of riff-raff roaming around that place.”
Mr. Beltran nodded, secretly warmed at his employee’s desire to protect him.
“I’ll take a couple of the boys with me, Mack. Get Slim and Butter – they’ll keep me out of trouble.”
“Yes, suh.”
Fort Bliss, Texas
January 23, 2016
The third week of the Moreland presidency brought about more changes for both Bishop and West Texas. The elimination of the last artificial object from Bishop’s body was one such monumental event. The couple celebrated the absence of the restraint pinning his left arm against his chest by slow dancing around the room while his wife hummed a waltz. Bishop’s rehabilitation had progressed well, helped in no small part by his and Terri’s long afternoon strolls around the base. The only remaining visible sign of his injury was in his hesitation to use his left side. The doctors and physical therapist had promised that condition would improve over time.
During this period, the couple enjoyed more one-on-one time than ever before, meandering hand-in-hand and chatting about whatever came to mind. Bishop’s first conversational priorities had been his wife’s mental well-being. He had quizzed her repeatedly about the ordeal she had endured, always listening with great intensity. Once he had assured himself that Terri wasn’t badly scarred, the next consuming topic of discussion had been the baby’s condition. The base hospital had performed an ultrasound on the fetus, resulting in a good report. The electric shock of the Taser hadn’t impacted the unborn child in any measurable way. While the doctors couldn’t guarantee the prognosis, their comforting words eliminated some of the couple’s concerns, but not all. Like all expectant parents, they wouldn’t be for sure about the condition of their firstborn until the baby made an up close and personal appearance.
Terri didn’t tell Bishop everything about her experience as a hostage, at least not at first. She knew her husband well. While Bishop’s protective nature often made her feel secure, his physical condition warranted a gradual exposure of some details. Her communication was throttled by visions of the thin stitches next to her man’s heart, those scrawny pieces of life-saving thread always at the forefront of her mind. Her measured disclosure of the facts wasn’t all for Bishop’s sake, however. While the visible signs of her beating were long gone by the time he regained a lucid state, Terri’s psychological bruises remained. When she finally revealed the full story, her mate remained silent, eyes focused on an empty point in space. Terri knew the lack of external reaction was a façade, cold waves of fury resonating from her husband and chilling the air.
Eventually Bishop exhaled, lowered his head, and spoke. “Terri, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I would give anything to change what happened.”
“It’s okay, Bishop. I’m fine now. There wasn’t anything you could have done. A lot of people are suffering through worse - every single day.”
“I guess I should focus on the fact that we made it – that we’re still together.”
Terri nuzzled her head into the crook of Bishop’s neck and sighed. “That’s how I’m coping with it all. That’s really the important thing to me. I want to be with you forever.”
The next day dawned with the doctors telling Bishop it was time for him to leave the hospital. The surprise news left the pair with a difficult decision about where to go. Bishop was uncomfortable heading back to the ranch one handed, and Terri wasn’t quite ready to return to Meraton. They finally decided on a short vacation to Alpha, hoping Nick and Diana wouldn’t mind two recuperating guests.
During the dismissal process, one of the staffers relayed the message that the base commander would like a word with Bishop before he was transported off base. The request wasn’t unexpected.
The couple entered General Westfield’s reception area a short time later. They found the same protective major, busily administrating the commander’s affairs. Unlike previous visits, the officer didn’t project any attitude toward Bishop, promptly escorting the two into the main office without incident.
“Our paths cross again, Bishop,” began the general officer while extending his hand. Nodding at Terri with a smile, he added, “Ma’am.”
“Good morning, sir. I was told you wished to have a word?”
With a hesitant glance at Terri, the general opened his desk drawer and produced a small brown paper bag. “I’ve got something of yours here, Bishop. I’ve been keeping it for you.”
Bishop peeked inside the bag, locating his knife and scabbard. The act of kindness made him smile. “Thank you, sir. I have a long history with this steel.”
“I know, Bishop. The Colonel has entertained me with stories about some of his prior work. Your name drifted into a few of the tall tales.”
Terri was curious, “How’s the recovery going, General?”
Westfield’s response surprised the couple. The normally stoic officer grimaced and responded, “Not well. While there isn’t any threat of additional infighting, the operation to focus all available resources on the Mississippi delta isn’t progressing as planned. A few of the cities along the Eastern Seaboard erupted in violence as the military pulled out. What little of thos
e communities that are left aren’t happy with the feds focusing the vast majority of their resources elsewhere.”
Bishop could understand the unrest. According to the last information provided by the Colonel, the military was barely keeping order in some of the huge population centers. Pulling those troops out in order to jump-start the nation wouldn’t be a popular decision. Still, the heartland was the only place that had all of the necessary resources of nuclear power, transportation, agriculture, and fossil fuel refining. From Bishop’s limited perspective, the plan was a good one. Get the center of the country functional again, and use that as a base to spread the recovery east and west.
The general continued, “What is truly disturbing is the level of causalities being reported. Starvation, disease, and civil unrest have taken their toll. Some estimates claim we’ve lost over 40% of the population.”
Terri inhaled sharply, covering her mouth at the shocking figure. “That’s over 140 million people, General. That’s unbelievable.”
“It’s just an estimate, but believable. There’s simply not enough food. The northern states have experienced a hard winter so far, millions of people trying to survive without heat or fresh water. The president is trying to get a crop in the ground this spring, but we won’t realize the benefit of that until harvest time. I fear that number of casualties could grow considerably by then.”
Suddenly Bishop felt his problems were insignificant compared to so many. The general wasn’t done. “I know we are burying over a 1,000 bodies a week out in the desert ourselves. El Paso won’t exist in another 12 months. Things are worse across the border, I hear.”
Terri was still trying to comprehend it all. “General, surely there are other sources of food. What about fishing or the millions of head of livestock?”
“There’s precious little fuel being refined. So far, a single nuclear power plant has been restarted, and it’s only generating at 30% capacity. Without fuel, the fishermen can’t work. And even if they could, there’s no way to transport the product to the cities. I’m going to begin rationing here at the base today. We’re running short of fuel, food… hell… just about everything. My battalions in Phoenix and Denver are barely receiving enough resupply to feed themselves, let alone the few million people left in those towns. According to my commander in Arizona, the nightly funeral pyres can be seen from 10 miles away. I’m bringing them home next week before there isn’t enough fuel for them to return.”
Bishop didn’t know what to say, looking down in silence. After a brief pause, the general continued. “Bishop, I’m sorry, but I can’t fly you out of here. Surface transport via a couple of HUMVEEs is the best I can do right now.”
“Thank you, sir. That is most kind. A ride to Alpha would be appreciated.”
The base commander rose from his chair, a clear signal that the meeting was concluded. After shaking hands, Terri asked one more question, “General, what will you do when the food runs out here at the base?”
“That’s a very good question, young lady. I wish I had an answer to that.”
Alpha, Texas
January 23, 2016
The migration to Alpha was in full swing when Bishop and Terri arrived via HUMVEEs. The two coyote brown military transports caused quite a stir among the people waiting to enter town. After a few moments, the men staffing the northern entrance to Alpha waved the Army drivers past. As they entered town, the couple was shocked at the changes since their last visit to Alpha only a short time ago.
There were a few cars on the streets, most trying to navigate the blinking traffic lights and rusting relics that still littered the pavement. Storekeepers were sweeping piles of glass and other debris from the sidewalks while other men covered broken windows with sheets of plywood. Squeals of delight drifted from a nearby park as youngsters commanded the monkey bars and jungle gym under the watchful eye of their mothers.
“We leave town for a few days, and Nick messes things up,” Bishop commented.
Terri grunted, unable to tear her eyes from the miracle that was Alpha. “Are you sure these soldiers didn’t take a wrong turn? What happened to our favorite ghost town?”
Even the military drivers were impressed with the scene unfolding before them, one man asking his sergeant if they could stay in town overnight and see the sights. Eventually, Bishop and Terri were dropped off at the courthouse where they found Alpha’s “First Couple.” Bishop was being carried to a waiting medevac helicopter the last time Nick had seen him. The big man was so happy to see his friend alive, Nick’s eyes watered up, and he turned away. Bishop was polite and didn’t comment, his throat being a little tight as well. Anyone who had been watching the two would have been touched by the brief, but telling hug the two men shared, each slapping the other on the back to signal its end.
“I was going to ask if you would mind hosting a couple of tourists,” stated Terri, taking in the flurry of activity, “but it looks like there might not be any rooms at the inn.”
Diana smiled and hugged Terri. “Of course you two can stay here anytime you wish. We’ve got plenty of space.”
Almost an hour passed as the two couples caught up on the events of the last few weeks. Nick assured Bishop the wounded man’s truck and weapon were safe and well cared for.
“My dad always made me fill it up when I borrowed his pickup,” teased Bishop. “I assume you have topped off the tank?”
Nick and Diana were still using the church as their quarters, and it was decided Bishop and Terri would join them there during their stay. Most of the congregation had moved back into their own neighborhoods after the siege had been broken, and the religious compound seemed almost deserted and tranquil in comparison to the couple’s previous experience there. Diana remarked that the sanctuary had reclaimed its peaceful persona and now was most often visited by new arrivals to the community as a site for quiet reflection in a world askew. Additionally, the mayor shared her plan to repurpose a few of the Sunday School rooms for her self-reliance skills training.
“Well, we want to help out with the reconstruction,” Terri declared. “We will pull our weight and help with the workload.”
Bishop nodded at his restricted left arm, adding, “If there’s anything a handicapped guy can do, I’m willing to try.”
Nick grunted, “Oh, come on now, Bishop. That little old injury to your ear isn’t all that bad. Besides, you have another perfectly good ear anyway. And you know, most folks your age expect to lose hearing as they get a few years on them. Don’t worry, my friend. We can still find some way you can help out around here.” A smirk flashed briefly on his face before the former operator’s serious expression returned, and he continued. “Wait! I got it! You can help with the quilting bee at the library. No one really talks there anyway, so your missing ear won’t be an issue there. How are your sewing skills?”
Bishop smirked and cupped his ear. “Could you repeat that, sonny? I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded almost like you said you were denying me access to those close-in parking spots?”
Bishop, tired from the journey, headed off with Nick to find, “any comfortable horizontal surface.” Terri felt a strong urge to be out and about, a victim of hospital-induced cabin fever. She decided to get a feel for Alpha’s new popularity, keenly interested in how the town was handling the boom. The greeting she and Bishop had received as they entered the community sparked her interest in discovering how Diana had organized the processing of new arrivals.
“It’s a work in progress,” commented Diana. “We interview each new settler about what they did before the collapse. We document what type of skills and education each person has. Then we match folks with housing, municipal projects and self-reliance training. We are still refining how this procedure works.”
“What kind of improvements are you working on?”
“I don’t really know all of them. After our electric grid came back up, we were flooded with people approaching us with new ideas for our reconstruction and reorganiz
ation. One group is working on cleaning out two of the school buildings so we can start classes again. Another family solicited help converting their taxidermy business into a butcher shop. And believe me when I tell you that we need a butcher yesterday. Plus, we have teams taking inventory of abandoned buildings while other crews are listing the contents that haven’t been looted. This flurry of activity makes it difficult to keep track of what everyone is doing so that we can effectively match people to jobs.”
“How are you feeding everyone?”
“Pete is sending vendors our way. When merchants don’t sell all of their goods in Meraton’s market, he suggests they drive up here and trade with us. So far, the church has been buying all the food we can get from those suppliers in addition to two of the local ranchers who are providing beef and chicken. We’ve planted over a dozen gardens, but it will be a while before they produce. Hunters have been bringing back the occasional deer, and we have two teams who have been foraging the local forests for anything palatable.”
Terri thought about the organization for a while as the two women strolled up and down Main Street, waving to friends and noting the progress.
Terri said, “Diana, I want Bishop and me to pull our own weight. He’s limited in what he can do, but maybe we can help you keep track of some of the initiatives you are organizing.”
“Sounds good to me. I find myself completely overwhelmed by the workload. I’ll take any help I can get.”
“I want to get going first thing in the morning. Where do you suggest I start?”
After pondering Terri’s question for a moment, Diana pointed toward the courthouse lawn. “Meet me up here in the morning, and you can work with one of the welcoming teams. That’s really our most important job right now. Maybe you can figure out a way to streamline the whole mess.”
After a quick breakfast, Terri rushed off to the courthouse and found Diana already hard at work.
