Fire From The Sky | Book 8 | Hell Fire

by Reed, N. C.

  -

  “No, there was no misunderstanding,” Sienna said at once. “Mister Dawson here made several insinuations that all but called us liars and oath breakers. I don't like that, so I left.”

  “I did congratulate him on managing to piss her off,” Greg chuckled. “Hard to do in my brief experience, but he did a good job.”

  “Now see, that right there,” Dawson's face went red. “That's just what I'm talking about. I don't need that kind of attitude thrown at me when I'm trying to make sure we aren't having problems!”

  “Speaking of attitude,” Greg leaned over the table just a little, “you're in the wrong place to be throwing it around, ain't you?” His voice was quiet, but held a clear challenge.

  “This ain't getting us nowhere,” Pickett showed his own bit of temper. “You promised to help us if we was attacked, and now these two,” he pointed to Greg and Sienna, “have reneged on that deal! I want to know why!”

  “How have they done that, Mayor?” Clay asked calmly, waving Greg and Sienna into their seats.

  “They said they wouldn't come to help if we called them because we didn't want them recruiting from our people!” Pickett growled.

  “Every word of that's a lie other than them not wanting us trying to get recruits from town,” Sienna growled right back. “We left town with the understanding that if we had the manpower available, we'd be there if we were needed. And that was after General Dawson here,” she jerked a contemptuous thumb at the militia commander, “pretty much said we would not get any assistance from town if we needed it!”

  “I never said that!” Dawson shook his head. “I just said we didn't have armored vehicles!”

  “And I said you had trucks that could get people out here in the event we were attacked and you didn't even bother to agree that you could and would move people to assist us if we came under attack.”

  “And all we said,” Greg cut in, “was that without our being able to develop a new team, we'd have to scale back our operations away from the farm so that we could guarantee the safety of our homes and families. I also mentioned it was a hassle, but still doable, and threw in that we'd still honor our part of the agreement, even knowing now that you wouldn't.”

  “Gentlemen,” Clay cut in before things could get further off course. “We've helped you a great deal over the last two or three months. I think even you have to agree with that. Food, weapons, communications, medical supplies, gave you the lion share of what was recovered from that prepper compound... I could go on, but I think I've made my point. We've tried to help you in every way possible to put Jordan back on her feet and get her ready for what's coming. And it took you less than a month to get pulled down into petty political horse shit. Trying to jockey for position, whether it's with each other or against us or whatever. We're not going to play a game like that. We don't have the time or the patience for it, to be honest. Yes, we were going to try and recruit maybe a dozen good people from town to swell our ranks and give us another team to respond to crises in town or anywhere else in our immediate area. We apparently stepped on your toes in doing so. Sorry about that.”

  “Since we cannot depend on you for manpower, there is no choice but to scale back our own operations in the field from this point forward. This farm not only feeds us, and so far you, but it's also our home. That means we will not be leaving it unprotected in the future, no matter how urgent other needs around us may be. As has already been noted, if we have the manpower, rest assured we will lend a hand wherever and whenever we can, but that always depends on the needs of protecting our homes and loved ones first. If you were to call us when we already have an operation running in the field, then the answer would be no, unless that operation could reach you in time.”

  “That's not being petty or selfish or anything else other than practical. No one else is protecting our homes or families. You clearly would not leave your homes unprotected to assist us if we were under attack, even though we already did just that to assist you, if you'll recall,” Clay raised an eyebrow at that, a subtle reminder of the battle that had been won only with their help.

  “I don't know how things devolved to this so quickly,” he sighed. “I thought when you got rid of those troublemakers that you truly meant to make a meaningful agreement with us, and that the two groups would be able to work together, helping one another along. We've given you a great deal of valuable equipment, supplies and even food without mention of payment now, or in the future. Apparently, that was a mistake, as you now seem to believe that we somehow owe you our help.”

  “We don't. We never did. Your people are eating vegetables that our people are going without, in an effort to feed you and care for you until your crops, planted with our help using seed we gave you, come in. Now I'll ask you, one time, does that sound as if we haven't been there when you needed us?”

  The two men from Jordan were red-faced now, after the dressing down from Clay. The worst part was that neither could think of anything that would defend them in this position. Both had grown accustomed to the help and backing of the Sanders and had begun to take it for granted. To their detriment they could now see. Pickett was the first to speak.

  “I have to say we owe you an apology,” he almost murmured. “None of this was meant this way, and shouldn't have gotten to this point.”

  “No, it shouldn't have,” Clay agreed. “There was a lot of argument against helping you at all,” he reminded them. “Several people feared that if we helped you, you would later turn on us. With the behavior coming from town in the recent weeks, I'm not sure their fears weren't well founded. Now, we might can start off with you explaining exactly why you are against us trying to recruit help from Jordan. You're clearly not shorthanded. There's well over a thousand people there now, I believe. Closer to two thousand, even.”

  “They were trying to take some of our best people!” Dawson spoke for the first time since Clay had taken over.

  “Well, who would you expect us to recruit?” Clay asked him, almost laughing. “Hell, who would you recruit? I recall you straining rather fine even when you were desperate to get rifles on the line against the attack that was coming. Why would we ask for anything less than you did?”

  “But those were people we depended on!” Pickett chimed in. “We need them!”

  “That's fine,” Clay nodded. “We aren't going to be asking them anymore, as I understand it,” he looked at Greg and Sienna, both of whom shook their heads.

  “There,” Clay smiled. “Problem solved! No more trying to recruit new people from your little fiefdom. Your serfs are safe with you. We'll look to other pastures and see what can be found for us. I had thought that if we could train and outfit a group recruited from Jordan that would be ideal, since we were trying to build a rapport with you and would be trying to assist you in times of need. Clearly, I overstepped in thinking that, for which I apologize. We had decided already to look elsewhere, however, so that should solve the issue nicely I believe. Are you happy with that?”

  His voice was open, even friendly, but it had a tinge of mocking sarcasm to it as well. One that neither man from Jordan missed.

  “So, you'll just make a deal with some other town, then?” Dawson asked.

  “No,” Clay shook his head. “No, I think this experience with you has proven that such 'deals' are not going to be beneficial to us at all. In all things in our dealings with you, Jordan has come out on top. Equipment, food, supplies, even vehicles and fuel. All of it went to you, including weapons we had saved to use as trade goods. Weapons we gave you freely and which we asked for nothing in return. I had assumed this would make us friends and leave us on good terms, but I've been wrong many, many times before so... once more shouldn't surprise me.” He stood abruptly, signaling he was finished with the 'meeting'.

  “Were there any other issues you wanted to discuss today, gentlemen?” he asked.

  “Please don't. Let’s leave things like this,” Pickett asked. “Yes, we both let things
get to our heads. There's a lot of pressure in trying to get things as close to normal as we can, and I, at least, don't always manage it well. And I'm prone to anger like this when I think someone has wronged me. I don't have to be right to show that anger, mind you. I just have to think it.”

  “I'm not that prone to anger, but I am prone to feeling challenged, and I felt challenged,” Dawson wasn't nearly as apologetic. “You walked into my office like you owned it and started in on me without warning.”

  “That's another lie,” Greg said easily. “We walked in, you made a wisecrack about our taking your best people, and we told you then, straight out, we had changed our minds, and your people were safe from us, so to speak. You were the one who tried to make it into a challenge, with shit like 'I'd hate to think we couldn't count on you when we needed you', and other helpful bullshit just like that. Sienna told you right then that was awfully big talk for someone who wouldn't be where he was without our help. We already helped you, but you were standing there acting as if we somehow worked for you, and needed to clear what we did with you. Sienna told you straight out that we didn't answer to you and hadn't stopped by to get your permission about our dispositions, but to see if you needed anything. Now did I leave anything out or misrepresent anything that was said in your office, Mister Dawson?” Greg's smile was wintry. Dawson's face was red again.

  “No,” he grated. “That sounds about right,” he hated to admit.

  “Sounds to me like the problems are on your end,” Clay told Pickett, and by extension Dawson. “I guess I should ask are we still welcome in Jordan? I don't want any kind of trouble, anywhere. If you guys don't want us there, whether it's talking to others about moving here or trying to trade or whatever, just say it. We'll honor whatever you say, since it's your town. If we aren't wanted then we won't come around.”

  “I can't see any reason for you not to be welcome,” Pickett admitted.

  “Me either,” Dawson agreed. “Even if there are problems between us, that shouldn't carry over to everyone else.”

  “Are there problems between us?” Clay asked him. “Have we worked them out to your satisfaction or not? Do we still have problems?”

  “Not on my end,” Pickett shook his head. “This has all just been something that got out of hand due to anger and bad judgment.”

  “No, there's not a problem,” Dawson agreed. “I jumped the gun and said a lot of shit I shouldn't have. Had no right to say, either,” he sighed. “You guys saved our bacon, and no matter what else may happen between us in the future, that fact is just the plain, hard truth. We owe you, not the other way around.” He stood, followed by Pickett.

  “I won't object any more if you want to try and gather people from town to work for you,” Dawson told them.

  “No, I don't think we'll do that,” Clay surprised them. “It's obvious that way leads to ruin. We've just seen that. I think we'll just stick to visiting and maybe offering to trade a little when we can, if we have something worth trading. If someone asks about coming out here, we'll explain that the town leaders aren't comfortable with it, and leave it at that. No mention of all this arguing need be made.”

  “That'll make us look bad!” Pickett objected.

  “We're not going to be caught up in something like this again, Mayor Pickett,” Clay stood firm. “I really, honestly wanted to have a good, open agreement with you and Jordan, but after this,” he shook his head, “I just don't see it happening. We'll keep to ourselves for the most part and that should keep down any difficulties in the future. We had scheduled one more delivery of smoked beef, sometime in the next few weeks, I think, so we'll send that in and after that I think we'll go our separate ways for a while. After things calm down, we may can try again. Maybe with some time to cool off, everyone can work together so all of us can have it better. Have a good day, gentlemen.” Without waiting for either of them to speak, Clay stepped into Building Two, leaving the two visitors with Greg and Sienna.

  “And that's it?” Pickett asked them, looking from one to the other.

  “I guess,” Greg shrugged. “With the Old Man gone, Clay is in charge now. Whatever he says is what happens.”

  “Gone?” Pickett looked shock. “Are you... is Leon Sanders dead?” he asked, his voice hoarse suddenly.

  “I'm afraid so,” Greg didn't have to act sad, because he was. “Near as they could tell he had a heart attack. He was sitting on his porch when it happened. He'd been in declining health for a while.”

  “I am truly sorry to hear that,” Pickett remarked sadly. “Please extend my condolences to the family if you will. I knew Leon a long time.”

  “We will, and thank you,” Greg nodded.

  “I'm sorry I... I made such a mess of things,” Dawson managed to choke out.

  “So are we,” Greg didn't give the other man any slack. “It will have an adverse effect on the people here, knowing things aren't as good between us as we had told them earlier. It helped us to feel less isolated.”

  The two men from Jordan flushed again under such an indictment but didn't reply. They simply nodded their acknowledgment and returned to their vehicle. Greg and Sienna waited until the two were back on the road before sitting back down.

  “Could we have handled that better?” she asked, looking over at the Marine.

  “Probably,” he nodded. “If you mean what happened in town, anyway. I admit that Dawson pissed me off, too. If you hadn't let him have it, I would have. Probably a blessing it was you, really. I'd have been worse, I'm sure. Being a local, I'd probably have said something really insulting.”

  “Surely not,” Sienna affected a shocked look. “Not you!”

  “Ha, ha,” Greg replied with a grin. “You're so funny!”

  “All my friends tell me that,” she nodded.

  “Well, all three of them can't be wrong,” Greg deadpanned.

  “What!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Why are we doing this?”

  “Because there's a plant there they need for the medicinal garden and they can't get it anywhere else,” Clay said for the third time. “And if any of you are thinking you don't want to go back there, then imagine how Daisy is feeling right now,” he added, tired of answering the question.

  Clay, Mitchell, Tandi, Gordy, Zach, Heath and Kurtis Montana were all geared up and ready for the trip. One Hummer and one four-wheel Cougar would be used, with Daisy in the Hummer. In the event they were engaged, the Cougar, with Mitchell, Zach, Heath and Kurtis would cover the Hummer so it could escape. It was Kurtis' first time out since he'd finished his training, Clay and Jose deciding it would be a good run for him to get some experience on.

  “This must be some plant,” Zach murmured to Gordy.

  “I'd say so,” Gordy sighed.

  “Do not make any references to what we found when we went there last time,” Clay warned. “Daisy Webb has been through enough as it is. Keep your mouth shut about it. Understand me?” There was a chorus of agreement to his orders and Clay nodded, satisfied. As he finished, he turned to see Daisy coming across the pad, Seth Webb following her with an arm load of gear to be used in cutting and gathering what they needed.

  “Lay it in there, Seth,” Clay pointed as Tandi opened the rear hatch area of the Hummer. Clay opened the door for Daisy, allowing her to climb into the rear compartment and settle in. Seth stood back, clearly worried about his sister-in-law. With Micah dead he supposed she wasn't his sister-in-law anymore, but... family was family in his book. That meant Daisy was family.

  “We'll take good care of her,” Clay promised him. The teen nodded and then turned, headed back the way he had come. Everyone scrambled aboard their ride and soon they were on their way.

  -

  “And there they go,” Leanne sighed as she watched from the tower behind her grandparent's house. Beside her, Samantha Walters was watching as well, but only for a few seconds. With Heath and Kurtis both gone, she was on tower duty again today. Leanne had joined her for her own re
asons, though Sam didn't mind the company.

  “Yeah,” Sam spoke quietly. “There they go.” Gordy was in that convoy as well, and she didn't like it one bit. But there was exactly nothing she could do about it, either.

  “I don't know how you stand it,” Leanne sighed, sitting back in her chair.

  “Because I don't have a choice, sweetie,” Sam replied simply. “It has to be like this, and there's nothing else to say or do. So, I buck up and put up as my mother used to say.”

  “Sounds like something the Old Man would have said,” Leanne snorted delicately.

  “May have come from the same place,” Sam laughed lightly. “So, has Heath kissed you yet?”

  “Wha-that's-I'm not-who said-,” Leanne sputtered to get out a full sentence but failed to do so and finally stopped.

  “So no, then,” Sam grinned.

  “No,” Leanne finally agreed, arms crossed beneath her breasts in a semblance of a pout. “Most of the time we've gotten to spend together has been right here, except for that first night at Leon's night club. The way things have been lately, he's had to work every day or night. Or both.”

  “I'm sorry,” Sam commiserated. “Gordy and I get very little time ourselves. I do like you do, though, and spend what time I can with him while he's working. For us, it's when he's checking the herd or riding the fences. We just have to make do with what we can get, that's all.”

  “How did your picnic go?” Leanne asked. “When Gordy got back from the Greer place?”

  “It went very nicely, thank you,” Sam's face reddened but she didn't stammer. “I appreciate you loaning me your player. It really made it nice.”

  “Maybe I can do something like that with Heath,” Leanne mused, looking off into the horizon. “A picnic, I mean,” she hastened to add at Sam's grin.

  “It's a good way to spend time together,” Sam agreed. “If you both can ride, go for a horse ride. It's fun and it's cheap, too. Doesn't take any fuel, other than hay or grass,” she chuckled.