by Reed, N. C.
“One day when you boys is grown, stuff like this won't be so hard,” Jake chuckled at them.
“One day when you're old, you'll be needing someone to help you get down the stairs, and then we'll see how hard it is,” Titus mumbled.
“Yeah,” Kade nodded beside him as the stake they were working on finally gave way, both boys nearly taking a tumble at the abrupt loss of resistance.
“What was that?” Jake placed a hand to his ear. “Couldn't hear ya over all that whining!”
“Everybody thinks they're a comedian,” Titus brushed dirt and rust off of himself as he and Kade moved to another spot. Jake laughed as he kept pace with Brick on the next set of rails. Behind them it was Gordy and Zach, working across from Darrell Goodrum, who had not yet stopped complaining about his being 'forced' to be there. No one was much listening at this point.
Jake had to admit that things were moving a little faster than he had anticipated. Kurtis Montana and Cliff Laramie were even now levering the fifth rail onto the truck as Titus and Kade readied the sixth one to be lifted. They hadn't set any kind of hard number of rails before calling the day a success, and Jake intended to keep loosening rails even after than had the truck loaded. If they could have another load prepared to pick up tomorrow, then it would be an easier day for sure.
He could see a Hummer standing guard down the track, back toward the road, a machine gun pointing back the way they had come. It said a lot about the state of the world that a simple work party needed so much protection. But it did, and that was just a plain fact that Jake could do nothing about.
Shaking his head, he got back to work, lest Brick gain a lead over him.
-
While Nate Caudell and Vicki Tully covered access to the crew, Mitchell Nolan and Corey Raynard had cleared the track ahead, and then moved forward to the old factory building the tracks led them to.
“Ever been in there?” Mitchell asked, looking at the graffiti covered building. Windows were broken all down the sides of the long building, and the window areas of the entrance way were boarded up with a heavy chain between the handles to try and keep trespassers out.
“Long time ago,” Corey admitted. “Used to be a good place to come and hang out. Drink, mess around with girls, stuff like that.”
“Normal guy stuff, then,” Mitchell grinned at the teen and got a matching grin in return.
“Yeah. Lot o' times people would organize sleep overs inside,” Corey told him. “Tell bullshit ghost stories and stuff like that. We'd light the place up with lanterns and bug candles and then drink beer until we all went to sleep. That was 'fore most of us even had a license, though,” he added.
“What happened after that?” Mitchell asked.
“We got jobs and started dating girls for real,” Corey laughed. “I did hear some nerds were coming out here to play D&D, Dungeons and Dragons,” he clarified with Mitchell frowned, “but that never was my kind of thing. I was chasing girls,” he laughed again.
“Like Terri Hartwell?” Mitchell change the subject suddenly as Corey went to take a drink from his canteen. Water spewed everywhere as Corey coughed and sputtered.
“W-what?!” Corey demanded. “What made you say that?”
“No secret how she always manages to be where you are, kid,” Mitchell shrugged. “Pretty sure she likes you.”
“I doubt a college girl like her would be interested in me,” Corey scoffed, though Mitchell could see his neck growing red beneath his collar.
“Never know these days,” Mitchell shrugged. “Look at Vee and Zach.”
“Yeah, look at them,” Corey snorted. “That's trouble I can do without, man.”
“Are you sure you know what happened?” Mitchell asked. He wouldn't tell anyone else's business, but he would try and make sure no misconceptions or rumors were spreading.
“Not my business,” Corey surprised the older man with a shrug. “If Zach wants me to know, then he'll tell me, I'm sure. But I could see how she was starting to treat him. Like he was a kid and she was his guardian or something. While we may not be all grown up like the rest of you, we ain't babes, neither. And we've gone out of our way to prove our worth and pay our way, too. Last thing any of us needs in someone trying to take our parent's place. We're fine like we are.”
Mitchell listened without comment, agreeing with Corey for the most part.
“Never hurts to have people who care about your wellbeing, Corey,” he said when the teen fell silent. “Not everyone has that.”
“Caring about your wellbeing is one thing,” Corey shook his head. “Trying to steer you a certain way is another matter entirely. None of us is dumb. We can see what's happening just fine, and we saw that, too. Zach maybe ain't the most congenial feller you was ever around, but he's a good friend to have by you when you need one, honest and steady as the day is long. If she can't see that, well... that's her loss, I reckon.”
“You think there's anything inside there worth taking?” Mitchell changed the subject again, pointing to the factory once more.
“Not a thing,” Corey replied at once. “Whatever was in there that still had any value was stolen long ago. Nothing but an empty shell now, unless someone has moved in there since all this started. Which a man shouldn't just rule out, these days,” he added.
“That's true,” Mitchell agreed. “Well, if someone is there, it's not our place to run them off. We're just here to protect our work detail.”
-
“Give my offer any thought?” Greg Holloway asked as Talia Gray stood before him.
“Why is it so important to you?” she asked him, head tilted to one side with one eyebrow raised.
“I already told you,” Greg shrugged. “We're always looking for good people to work on our teams, especially in security. You took to the training here without a bit of trouble. What I'm offering would be a degree of difficulty higher, to be sure, but I'm confident you could do it. We're thinking of building a new squad and I think you'd be a good asset to our team, assuming I'm right and you can handle the training.”
“Why me, though?” she pressed. “Plenty of other people here, some with actual military experience. Why not ask them?”
“How do you know I haven't?” he replied with a question of his own. “Look, if you aren't interested just say so and I won't ask you again. You said you'd think it over, and I said I'd check back. This is me, checking back. Say no, and I'll get out of your hair. Problem solved.” Greg was beginning to be irritable over her continual questioning. It wasn't that she was asking questions, she'd be foolish to go into something like this blind. It was that she was asking the same questions, over and over.
“I'm just trying to figure out why you asked me, and not someone else,” she more or less repeated, though phrasing the statement a slightly different way.
“You know what?” Greg decided enough was enough. “Don't worry about it. It's obvious you either aren't interested, or else you think there's some nefarious reason we're asking. So, consider the offer withdrawn and enjoy being a peace officer here in Jordan. You earned that title and you've done well at it. If you'll excuse me, I've got other people to talk to.”
“What?” Gray was suddenly more attentive. “What does that mean?” She actually seemed surprised.
“Just what I said,” Greg spoke over his shoulder as he moved away. “You aren't the only one here I've spoken to. It's true that I did have high hopes that you'd accept, but at the end of the day, it's still just a job offer. Or it was. Have a good day!” He waved to her before turning completely away.
Behind him, Talia Gray was still trying to catch up to a conversation that had gotten out of control before she ever realized it.
-
“None of them?” Sienna asked two hours later.
“Nope,” Greg replied. “You?”
“Nah,” Sienna shook her head. “I'm not sure it's a bad thing, either, to be honest,” she added.
“Why?” Greg was interested in her reasonin
g.
“Let them shoulder their own burdens for a while,” was her answer. “They defended the town, but would have lost it without us, and they know it. They're substantially better off now than they were even a month ago, and we're the reason. Living and working with us should be a privilege. There are a lot of perks that go with it. People who have to think that hard to decide, we don't need. They'll always be looking over their shoulder at what they left. I admit there were a couple guys we could have used, guys that did really well during the attack. But we'll get by fine without them.” She paused but had to ask.
“What about Gray?”
“I withdrew the offer,” Greg said simply, surprising her.
“Really,” she drew the word out. “Might I ask why?”
“Too much hem-haw and not enough substance,” Greg explained. “She kept on with the 'why' until I got tired of explaining it. I think she thought I was trying to get her to move out to the farm for personal reasons, to be honest,” he added after a moment of thought. “I've given her no reason to think that, before you start,” he pointed an accusatory finger at her.
“I said nothing of the sort,” she held her hands up in a sign of surrender. “I'm just surprised.”
“I'm really not, when I think about it,” he shook his head. “She was reluctant to take the Constable position, remember? I asked her to consider joining because she had done so well in the training. I should have remembered her initial reluctance. She's smart, tough, and she did well in both the physical challenges and on the range. That was my basis for asking her, and I didn't factor in her apparent squeamishness. And, like you said; it's her loss.”
“That's the spirit,” Sienna slapped his shoulder. “How much longer you want to hang out before heading home?”
“No reason not to head back now that I can see. There aren't any problems, and they no longer really need our help, so this was more or less a courtesy visit, anyway.”
“Should we see Dawson first?” she asked.
“Might as well,” he nodded after thinking it over. “He might have something to say. He was busy when we got here this morning. Let’s give him a yell and then head in. I'd rather be at home.”
“Me too!”
-
“So, what's this about you poaching my best folks?” Dawson asked with a grin as Greg and Sienna walked into his tiny office.
“Changed our minds,” Greg shocked him. “We're not convinced we need any of them, to be honest. Those we've spoken to were wish-washy at best, and we don't need that kind of attitude, frankly speaking. And they do seem like good people, so you won't lose their help here in Jordan. Our manpower needs are shifting so we were going to try and put together a new chalk to make sure we could keep helping out the way we have been. We've decided now to recommend that we scrap that idea and just cut back on operations away from Home Plate.”
“Does that mean you wouldn't help us out if we were attacked?” Dawson asked quietly.
“We will if we can, just like before,” Greg promised. “But there are only so many of us, and we have other responsibilities. We left our own homes and dependents uncovered to come here last time. We aren't going to do that again. The risk is just too high. Hence the plan to form a new stick for deployment. As it stands now, Sienna and I have decided that we aren't going to be able to find enough quality people for that, so we'll have to scale things back to fit our needs. It's a hassle, but it's doable. No sweat.”
“I hate to think we couldn't count on you guys in a pinch,” Dawson stated.
“That's a pretty harsh statement for someone who wouldn't be standing here at all if not for our help,” Sienna didn't quite growl at the militia commander. “If the situation were reversed, could we expect to see your militia show up to defend our homes?”
“We don't have armored vehicles,” Dawson managed not to stammer at having his minor condemnation turned on him.
“You have trucks a plenty, now, and no one says you have to have armored vehicles to show up and give us a hand with defending our homes, 'in a pinch', as you put it,” Sienna wasn't letting him get away with that. “Anyway, this is a moot discussion. It's clear you wouldn't support us if we needed you to, and it's just as clear that our idea about training a new squad isn't going to take flight, so here we are. We didn't stop by to get your approval of our dispositions, either,” her voice hardened. “We wanted to check and see how things were going and if you needed any help. But if you've got time to sling attitude at the people who put you back on the map, I'd say you got things pretty well under control.” She turned and walked out without waiting for a reply from the red-faced Dawson.
“Well,” Greg sighed dramatically. “I guess that will about do it for the fly-bys,” he used an old movie line that he'd always loved. “Looks like we're all done here,” he slapped Dawson's sleeve lightly. “Good job, there, pissing her off. It's actually pretty difficult to do, but you hung in there like a trooper and got the job done just fine. Good luck!” He turned and started to leave, whistling.
“Wait a minute, now!” Dawson exclaimed. “You guys are too damn touchy!”
“No, we're just out of patience and tired of carrying everyone else's water,” Greg assured him. “I think we'll spend our time looking after ourselves for a while. I'm sure you guys can do fine. But do call us if you need us. Assuming we have the manpower to spare, we will honor our end of the mutual defense agreement, even knowing now that you probably won't. See you,” he waved and then was gone.
He could hear the sound of something hitting the wall and assumed that Dawson had thrown something in anger. Tough. He'd get over it.
It was time for everyone to show a little respect where it was due. That crack about how Dawson would 'hate to think' that the farm wouldn't provide promised support was a low blow and while he hadn't shown it like Sienna had, it had pissed Greg off, royally.
He was more than ready to go home. That was a funny thought when he realized that he had called Jordan home for over three years before the lights had gone out. Now, it was the Sanders' ranch that was home.
And Greg was in no way sorry about that.
CHAPTER FOUR
Daisy Webb had been walking the road to the west of the farm for three weeks, going further and further each day in an effort to build her strength back up. She had urged Jasmine to do the same and accompany her, but Jasmine was still very skittish of being out of sight of the buildings around the farm. Daisy of all people could sympathize with that, but she was tired of letting fear dictate her life. While she wouldn't condemn or even question Jasmine's choice, she wasn't going to sit idle any longer.
For a while following the attack on the Webb homestead, Daisy had just been numb. While able to realize what had happened to her, she had managed to compartmentalize it in such a way as to separate herself from it, at least for a time. Doing so could have eventually damaged her mental health, but fortunately for Daisy, Beverly Jackson had refused to let that happen. Thanks to her intervention, Daisy had managed to draw out what had happened to her, and eventually deal with it in a way that left her in no way healed, but at last able to begin healing.
These walks were therapeutic for Daisy, both physically and emotionally. As she walked briskly along the fence rows, she worked the mental exercises Beverly had given her to help with breaking down her anger, her fear and her revulsion at what had taken place.
First had been her anger at her husband, Micah. Anger for blindly following his father despite the urging of his own wife, hell, even his own mother, not to do so. Rather than listen, Micah had followed Josh Webb 'back home', and Daisy had gone with him as she had considered herself bound to do as his wife. That decision had cost Micah his life, and had cost her, Daisy, something similar, if not worse in some ways.
Next was her anger at her father-in-law, Joshua Webb. That was much more difficult to deal with. Joshua Webb had been a stubborn jackass who refused to see anything he didn't want to see or hear anything he didn't want
to hear. When Mark Webb had died defending their homes on the hill, Josh decided that his death was somehow the fault of the Sanders, specifically Clayton and Leon Sanders.
Daisy didn't consider herself an expert in military tactics by any means, but she could certainly see that placing a terrified sixteen-year-old boy in the hole with Mark to face Lord only knew how many attackers hadn't been the best plan made that day. So far as she could see the fault begin there, other than the original fault of the greed of the people who had ordered the attack to begin with.
But Josh had refused to see anything but what he wanted to see. In his grief, his anger, which he had directed at the wrong people, Josh had made a very poor decision and had led his family into a position that had little or no chance of being defensible.
Daisy acknowledged at that point that she had the option to refuse to leave, and hadn't exercised it. She had tried to convince Micah to stay, for the two of them to remain here, even if it meant separating from his family. She had known it was a doomed effort from the start, as Micah and the others Webbs would never willingly be separated from one another, but she did try. Micah had, of course, flatly refused to entertain any notion that his father was making a mistake. He himself didn't blame the Sanders for what had happened, but was not going to argue with his father's decision.
Daisy had wished a thousand times since then that she had simply refused to go with them. That she had remained here, on the farm, where it was at least marginally safe. Certainly safer than returning to their homestead which was in no way easily defensible. If she had, it might not have changed what happened to the others, but at least she would not have... would not have suffered as she had.
She wrapped her arms around her at the memory of the vile things she had endured, refusing to allow the tears that threatened to fall. She had cried enough and she refused to do so any more. She had allowed her desire to be faithful to her husband to place her in a situation where she could be so abused. That kind of blind faith had ruined an entire family, left them shattered and broken, with only a handful unharmed, at least physically if not emotionally.
