by Joe Nobody
The sheriff was skeptical. “I’ve no interest in helping a self-appointed king. When you say mayor, was she elected?”
“Yes, and we intend to have more elections soon. Even the sheriff will be elected in our town,” Terri answered.
Sheriff Watts nodded toward the car. “Who else is with you and the mayor?”
“We brought along security. It’s far too dangerous for two women to travel alone these days.”
The tall lawman considered this new information for a few moments and then waved to one of his men standing by the entry. “Let them in. It won’t hurt to talk.”
As the deputy moved to unlock the gate, Watts turned back to Terri. “I’m going to allow you inside to talk this over. Your men can come in as well, but no weapons. You have my word that no harm will come to any member of your party.”
Nick whispered, “No fucking way,” but Bishop reassured his friend.
“I believe him, Nick. Besides, they have so many guns in that place we wouldn’t be able to do much anyway.”
“I don’t like it one bit, but if you say it’s cool, then I’ll go along.”
Terri proceeded to step back to the building with the sheriff while Nick pulled in the car and parked. Bishop left his weapons in the back seat, soon to be keeping company with Nick’s rifle and pistol.
Terri turned and indicated Diana, “Sheriff, allow me to introduce you to Deacon Diana Brown, mayor of Alpha, Texas.”
“Ma’am,” Sheriff Watts responded as he offered his hand and tipped his hat.
Introductions were completed, and then everyone entered the building. It was immediately clear that strangers were extremely rare as the occupants of the facility stared to the point of rudeness. “You’ll have to excuse us, folks. There haven’t been any outsiders inside this building in almost seven months.”
Watts elected to give Diana’s group a tour. The huge warehouse was occupied by row after row of floor to ceiling shelving, many of the units full with cardboard boxes and wooden containers. One wall was lined completely with enormous commercial freezers that had once stored hundreds of pounds of frozen food, including several sides of beef.
“We’ve now consumed the contents of three freezers. There are five left. After we use up the food inside, we convert the space into a community area of some sort. We have a school, theatre and music room. This place echoes badly, and the freezers allow for the night owls to gather without disturbing everyone else.”
During the walkthrough, their guide disclosed that there were 110 people living inside the distribution center. “We had 40 law enforcement officers who brought their family members with them to begin a fresh life here. One of our citizens nicknamed our new home ‘Wallyworld.’”
As the group meandered through the cavernous interior, Sheriff Watts pointed out this and that. The tour finally ended at the rear of the facility where a playground had been erected, and a garden had been tilled. “One of the tremendous advantages to settling here has been the availability of critical items stored inside the building. While the warehouse was never designed for long-term occupancy, its stored goods have allowed us to maintain a certain level of civilization. We know our food will eventually run out, and we all crave the flavor only fresh crops provide. Our biggest issue with the garden is that none of us were blessed with a green thumb, and the harvest has been a disappointment.”
The tour proceeded to the front of the building where a cluster of offices had been constructed. “There’s a conference room up here. I suggest we talk inside.”
Bishop and Nick remained quiet for the most part, playing the role of hired security to the hilt. Both men were amazed at the organization and the thought that had been invested in developing the community. At one point when they were alone, Nick whispered to Bishop, “I wouldn’t leave here if I were them. They’ve got it made.”
After everyone had taken a seat in the conference room, the sheriff looked at Diana and asked, “So you said someone told you of our location? I’m curious how that individual knew we were here.”
Bishop spoke up, deciding honesty was the best policy. “That would have been me, sir. A few days ago, one of your deputies had an encounter with someone in the desert to the west of here - right after a rather large diversion occurred up on the ridge. I was responsible for that. My apologies for any inconvenience, sir.”
Anger flashed for just a moment behind the sheriff’s eyes, but it passed quickly. For a few seconds, Bishop thought his confession might have been a mistake, but then the leader of Wallyworld snorted and looked down. “You caused me to lose a night’s sleep, young man. We thought the entire world was going to roll down that ridge and kill us all.”
“I had good reason, sir. I was operating under the direct orders of the President of the United States. Your signage and warnings precluded me from approaching, so I took action on my own. Is the man I encountered in the desert okay?”
Sheriff Watts almost smiled, the corners of his mouth rising just slightly. “Yes, no casualty but his ego and a few bruises. In a way, your little show was a good thing. Up until that point, we were getting lax and complacent.”
Diana interjected, “Sheriff, we can offer a community - housing, soon-to-be schools, electrical power, and most importantly, a healthy social environment. You have done a fantastic job here and are maintaining a quality of living higher than anyone else we’ve encountered, but you have to know it can’t last.”
The older man nodded. “I know; the subject is something that haunts us daily. We continue to burn fuel and consume food that can’t be replaced. My people are comfortable, but this place isn’t a home. This lifestyle isn’t how anyone wants to live long-term, nor is it a good setting to raise children.”
Nick spoke up. “Sheriff, why don’t you load up a few carloads of your people and come visit Alpha? Spend the day outside these walls and just walk around the community. See for yourself what we’re doing. After that, drive on down to Meraton and visit the market there. Have a seat at Pete’s, wet your whistle, and shoot the breeze with the locals.”
Diana continued, “Our towns aren’t perfect. We welcome refugees and stragglers, but some of those folks are troublemakers or potential problems. We need professional, even-handed police officers. Men and women who are trained on how to deal with situations fairly and competently.”
Sheriff Watts nodded his understanding and then looked at Nick. “I’ll call a meeting and let everyone know why we allowed strangers in the building today. I’m sure rumors are already making the circuit. We’ll take you up on that offer, young man. I’ll load up a group of folks and declare a vacation day.”
Terri smiled broadly. “We look forward to having you visit, Sheriff. If there’s any way you could let us know when you’re coming, we might be able to organize a barbecue.”
Nodding, an unusual look crossed the lawman’s face. “Is there a functional church in either town?”
Deacon Brown glowed at the inquiry. “Why yes, there is. We just had a beautiful Christmas service. You and your people are always welcome – regardless if you take us up on our offer or not.”
Watts smiled, “How about we come calling Sunday? My wife and I would welcome hearing a good choir and God’s word. I know it would renew this old soul of mine.”
Diana stood and offered her hand. “So, we have a date then. Services start at 10 in Alpha. Ask anybody for directions to the church. We look forward to seeing you, Sheriff.”
Diana stood at the church’s door, shaking hands and greeting everyone as they left the service. It had been another packed house, with extra folding chairs required to house the worshipers. The fact that over 40 law enforcement officers and their families had attended made her Sunday morning even brighter.
While she was hugging babies and grasping hands, Diana noticed all of the visitors from Wal-Mart were huddled in one section of the pews, apparently having a private meeting. Eventually the line of parishioners dwindled, and the elders were almost th
rough cleaning up after the service. Diana decided to let the visitors have their privacy and found Nick on the front steps talking with Terri and Bishop.
“Are they still in there having a meeting?” asked Terri.
“Yes. I thought I’d let them have their privacy. We’ve presented them with quite the dilemma, I’m sure.”
The door behind the deacon opened abruptly, Sheriff Watts and his people exiting quietly and filling the front steps.
“Diana, we would like to take a tour of the town, if that’s all right with you. My deputies are interested in seeing some of the available housing. Some of our folks with young ones would also like to discuss what the town’s plans are for a school.”
Smiling, Bishop stepped forward and said, “I’ll be happy to give a tour of the school. It’s not far, so we can just walk over if you wish.”
Nick volunteered to give a tour of the downtown business district, including the courthouse, police department, and jail. Diana added that everyone was welcome to wander around on their own as they wished.
A few minutes later, Bishop left with several moms and a few fathers in tow, the group laughing as they began the short trip to the school building.
Sheriff Watts hung back, waiting until his people had scattered with their tour guides. Diana approached the tall man and asked, “You’re not interested in seeing the town, Sheriff?”
A friendly look filled the man’s eyes, “I saw everything I needed to see this morning during the service, Miss Brown. I’m a professional people-watcher… in a way. No offense, but my eyes were on the town’s people more than the pulpit. I saw what I needed to see in their faces. You’re doing a good thing here, and I personally want to be a part of it.”
The lawman’s statement brought a smile to Diana’s face, “Why thank you, Sheriff. That makes me feel good inside.”
“I’m not a dictator, Miss Brown. I can’t order my people to leave the safety of the distribution center. I won’t do that. You’ve sold me, and I believe most of my people, but I’ve got to let them make up their own minds.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way, sir.”
Terri cleared her throat and looked down shyly. “Sheriff, when you gave us a tour of the distribution center, I noticed a truck full of deer corn. It was backed up to the dock, but the trailer looked completely full. Are you folks using that feed?”
The lawman shook his head, “No, we’ve not been able to find any use for it. You can’t eat it. We’ve even tried to make bread out of it, and that experiment failed badly. Right now it’s just sitting there taking up space.”
“If I were to offer you a trade… say 10 sides of beef for that load of corn, would you consider it?”
Watts thought for a moment before answering, “I don’t see why not. As long as you had the truck to haul it off. We haven’t started any of those diesel motors in months. I’m not sure they’ll run, and we’ve drained all the fuel out anyway.”
Terri stuck her hand out, “We have a deal then, Sheriff. In a few days, you’ll be seeing a truck coming up your lane. Please do not shoot at it. It will be me coming to deliver the beef in exchange for the corn.”
The sheriff nodded, “Okay, I’ll let the boys know. That brings up a good point. How should we communicate? I don’t want any accidents on either side.”
“Do you have HAM radio capability?” Diana interjected.
“No, no we don’t. The radios in our patrol cars are short range without the tower. We’ve found CB radios inside the center, but nothing long range.”
Diana rubbed her chin for a bit before brightening. “How about plain old white flags? Will you honor a white flag?”
Again, it took Watts a few moments to consider. “I suppose so. We’ve not had any trouble for months, with the exception of your husband, ma’am. I’ll give orders to honor a white flag.”
A few hours later, the lawmen and their families gathered again on the church steps, the general mood upbeat and positive. As soon as everyone was accounted for, Sheriff Watts passed the word to everyone to load up into their cars.
Goodbyes and waves filled the air as the sheriff approached Diana. “We’re on our way to Meraton to see the market and talk to the mayor there. Afterwards, we will want to talk things over for a day or two. I’ll send word as soon as we’ve reached a decision.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. You and your people are always welcome in Alpha, even if you decide not to join our community. Please come back to our services regardless of what you decide.”
Tipping his hat, Sheriff Watts strolled to the lead patrol car and began what was a long convoy of vehicles out of the church’s parking lot. Diana, Nick, and Terri stood and waved until the last car was on its way west.
Chapter 8
Midland Station, Texas
February 3, 2016
Lou’s earplug sounded with a crack of static followed by a transmission. His gaze dropped to the floor as he listened in silence, his index finger pressing the tiny device tight into his ear. “Hold them there,” was his response after the report had finished.
The security man turned to Mr. Lewis and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir.”
A glance from the nearby desk gave Lou permission to continue. “We have Dr. Prescott with a fully loaded sedan, his wife, and daughter at the west roadblock. They’re trying to leave.”
Cameron looked up from his stack of papers with a questioning expression. “What exactly does the term ‘fully loaded’ mean, Lou?”
“All of their personal belongings are packed in the car, sir.”
“I see. Inform your men that I request a word with the good doctor. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Lou transmitted the ‘request,’ and then called for additional men to escort Mr. Lewis for the trip. In a few minutes, a black SUV exited the parking garage at the headquarters building and proceeded on the cross-town excursion.
Cameron rarely traveled through this section of Midland Station, his rapt attention on the surroundings passing by his window. It would be easy for the eye to be drawn to the destruction. Entire blocks of homes burned to the foundation – evidence of a fire department that could no longer respond. Several automobiles were overturned, their rusting frames surrounded by piles of blackened ash and pools of melted plastic – a symptom of rioting that the local police force couldn’t contain.
Mr. Lewis had seen all of those sights a hundred times before, and they held little of his attention. His examination focused on the people, and the prognosis wasn’t good. Rail thin and grungy looking citizens were visible here and there, most of them shuffling along with stooped shoulders and distant gazes. The images reminded Cameron of the black and white newsreels from WWII - footage of disheveled, defeated refugees fleeing a conquering army.
The comparison pushed Cameron’s mind to another analogy from that same war – the citizens of Midland Station bore an uncomfortable resemblance to the films of concentration camp survivors. Dark, sunken eyes that didn’t focus, atop skin and bones bodies that ambled about with no vigor or purpose.
Exhaling loudly, Cameron turned away from the SUV’s window glass, and concentrated on the back of Lou’s head in the front seat. Despite removing the visual, his mind couldn’t ignore the image. Most of the problem was hunger. Adequate nourishment would go a long way to improve people’s lives. But Cameron knew it was more than that - hope was evaporating in Midland Station.
Calories were critical, but people also needed the chance to progress – to improve their lives. Hell, he thought, I’m sick and tired of the whole ordeal, and I’m eating quite well.
His analysis was interrupted by the slowing of the SUV, a signal they had reached their destination. Lou and the security team exited the vehicle first, scanning for trouble and doing their job before opening the door for their charge. Cameron stepped out, immediately surprised by the scene.
A line of cars, wagons, bicycles and just about every other method of transportation imaginable was wai
ting to leave Midland Station. Frowning, Mr. Lewis scanned the exodus, intrigued by the ingenuity of the transportation and the attitude of the travelers. Bundles of clothing were secured to makeshift carts being towed by bicycles. The few automobiles were stuffed to capacity, trunks overflowing with bags and personal items - lids held down by strands of rope or yards of duct tape circling the bumper.
Some people carried their earthly possessions on their backs, enormous hiking packs bulging with content. One couple simply pulled along wheeled suitcases as if they were traveling through an airport.
But there was something else – something beyond the creativity of transportation.
These people carried themselves differently, he realized. While they were still thin, heads were held higher, and eyes were brighter than the people Cameron had just passed by in the town. There was a hint of purpose in their step. Optimism, thought Cameron, The word I would use to describe these people is optimistic. They’re looking forward to something – thinking about the future.
Mr. Lewis’ gaze focused on a car that had been pulled out of line, a security man and driver standing by the hood having a conversation. With his ring of security tightly around him, Cameron moved closer, his presence drawing attention from everyone in the area.
“Hello, Danny,” Cameron said to the driver, “I was quite surprised to hear you were leaving town.”
Dr. Daniel Prescott wasn’t embarrassed, but pretended to be. “I’m sorry, Cameron. I should have stopped in and said ‘Goodbye.’ It seems like you’re always so busy, and I didn’t want to be a bother.”
“A bother? My best friend from high school - the town’s most respected physician - a man I’ve always considered trustworthy, is leaving town and doesn’t even send me a note?”
Shaking his head and looking down, Dr. Prescott responded with a quiet voice. “I was concerned you’d try and talk me out of it, Cameron. Or worse yet, forbid me to….”
