by Reed, N. C.
“I'd imagine that's true, too,” the older man nodded. “As to the market, we hadn't really thought about the days or hours, other than it being in the light,” Pickett admitted. “I suppose we could leave it open at all times, though. Every day, I mean, not all night and what have you,” he clarified.
“Would this be booths along the street somewhere in town?” Ronny asked. “Or were you going to try to put it inside, somewhere?”
“For now, it will be outside,” Pickett replied. “Come winter, we may need to try and move it indoors. We're working with building owners like Doreen here,” he indicated Milligan with a nod of his head, “to rent space for vendors in their store fronts. That would be a deal between the vendors and the owners, mind you. The town itself won't play a role in that, other than trying to negotiate for it to happen at all. Once we get things set in a way everyone can live with, then the town's part of it will be done.”
“Again, that sounds like a good plan,” Robert commented. “It lets you keep the market running year-round, and it allows the building owners to profit from the use of their space, too.”
“It would be safer for tradesmen like myself, as well,” Gary agreed. “To have a permanent place that could be secured at night.”
“If we're going to see anything like a return to normal, we have to get an economy going,” Pickett declared. “That has to be one of our priorities. For me, it needs to rank right after safety and security, and food and shelter. It doesn't do any good for people to be trying to work on things if there's nowhere to sell their goods.”
“True,” Ronnie mused. “But you're not just talking about Jordan. Or not just Jordan and the farm, I should say.”
“No, I'm not,” Pickett agreed. “We need to spread out a bit and try to make some contact with the towns around us. We haven't done that until now, so we don't have any idea what shape they're in. Could be they're in the same way as Peabody went for all we know. But if not, then we may can get some trading going back and forth. Establish a system of moving goods even if it means using horses and wagons.”
“What towns do you have in mind?” Gordon asked carefully.
“Right now, just Lewiston,” Pickett replied. “I admit I'd be shocked to find they did any better than we did through the winter, but you never know. Lewiston is a lot bigger town than Peabody was, and had a good bit of manufacturing. We may find them doing alright, or we may find them burned down like Peabody. The only way to find out is to go see.”
“Have you sent anybody to have a look?” Clay spoke for the first time, having been determined to stay out of this talk.
“No,” Dawson shook his head. “We wanted to make this a trading mission rather than anything else. We wanted to have representatives from town and from the farm to go and speak to whoever is in charge down there, assuming anyone is. If they have any manufacturing or other production going, then someone has to be in charge of it, somewhere. That's who we'd need to talk to.”
“So, who are we talking about going?” Gordon asked. “That sounds like a trip that could turn dangerous with just a word or two. I know, or knew, a few people in Lewiston, but I have no idea if they made it through the winter or not. Hadn't had any word of any kind from there at all, to be honest.”
“Neither have we,” Dawson agreed. “That's why we wanted to send a delegation of sorts to see if we could work something out. That's where you come in,” he added, looking at Clay. Startled, Clay stood up from his slouch against the wall.
“Me?” he sounded as astonished as he looked. “I don't have anything to do with this stuff. I drive a tractor, sure, but that's it. I don't do any trading, or even know where to start!”
“I wasn't talking about the trading,” Dawson said pointedly. “We need you and your vehicles to safely carry the people who will do the talking to Lewiston and then bring them back.”
“I'm not so sure that's a good idea,” Robert interjected, looking at his brother. “I don't mean that against you, Clay. It's just that, if we're trying to get on the good side of whoever is in charge around Lewiston, or at least whoever is managing to manufacture goods there, maybe rolling up in a military convoy isn't the best way to do it?”
Dawson chewed his lower lip for a moment as the others remained silent.
“I admit, I hadn't thought of it that way,” he said finally. “I was just trying to think of a safe way to get people to and from.”
“Lewiston had a Guard contingent, too, as I recall,” Gary mentioned. “They may have some heavy gear of their own. Be a real bitch to try and head there for trading and start a small-scale war between people who ought to be working together.”
“Also, a problem,” Dawson sighed. “And here I thought I had planned so well,” he shook his head, chagrined.
“There's nothing wrong with your planning so much,” Clay said quietly. “It just needs tweaking a little. If we don't use vehicles, or at least military vehicles, what would be the next best way to go into town?” he asked the crowd in general.
“Either horses, or walking,” Robert replied. “It's thirty miles, give or take, to Lewiston, though. That's a long way to walk or sit a horse either one.”
“True,” Clay nodded. “But nothing says we can't trailer the horses to withing two or three miles of town and then ride in from there. Or walk either,” he shrugged. “Ms. Milligan, can you ride a horse? Or you, Mister Draper?”
“I haven't ridden a horse in years, but I used to know how,” Milligan admitted.
“I can ride, though I'm in no way proficient at it,” Draper added.
“So, we either need to think of something else, or else make sure everyone gets some time in the saddle before heading out,” Clay mused aloud.
“You thinking about doing this?” Robert asked, looking at his younger brother.
“This isn't on me,” Clay shook his head at once. “I am not in any way an authority figure or a trading expert. Man asked me to help get people safely to and from a particular point,” he nodded toward Dawson. “Assuming you four decide this is something we should be involved in, then I'll do it. If you decide we won't, then it's a moot point, anyway.”
“But you think we should do it,” Gary Meecham stated more than asked.
“You ain't listening,” Clay was shaking his head again, faster this time. “I am not a part of this decision. I will do whatever I can to help you guys with whatever decision you come to, but I will not be part of the decision-making process, here. I've had to do plenty enough of that as it is, and I go nothing to trade with, anyway. As to the idea, sure, I think it's a fine idea to try and establish some kind of economy again. There may be all kinds of opportunity in Lewiston for you guys to take good advantage of. I honestly don't know. I ain't been to Lewiston in a long time,” he finally declared. “Since 'fore I joined the Army,” he added in a mutter.
“I was there when the radio announcement hit,” Ronny recalled. “It was a madhouse then, for sure, but we left right away and came straight home.”
“Lewiston had a good-sized police force, as I recall,” Robert's look was calculating. “And Gary's right about their Guard detachment. I don't know the exact outfit, but it's part of the 278th, I do know that. They may have vehicles similar to Clay's, and will almost certainly have military grade weapons.”
“You're saying they might be a threat?” Pickett asked, frowning at the idea.
“I'm saying they may have made it through the winter much better than we did, and in good order,” Robert replied. “Peabody didn't have a Guard detachment to depend on, and we all know how good and honest our law enforcement was,” he snorted in derision. “Lewiston may not have had to face that particular problem when things fell apart. So, they may have done better.”
“You know,” Gary Meecham spoke up again, “if they did do better, and I'm not saying they did or didn't, doesn't it seem like they would have reached out to some of us by now?”
That statement was met with silence around the group. Gar
y waited a minute before speaking again.
“I, uh, didn't mean to kill the conversation, here,” he said cautiously.
“Just the opposite, I think,” Dawson was shaking his head. “You've just given us all something else to think about. Why haven't they reached out to us? Even just a cautious probing action if nothing else? Or even a messenger on horse or a bicycle?”
“It does bear thinking about,” Pickett sighed, rubbing his face. “I never even considered it.”
“Neither did I,” Doreen Milligan agreed. “And I honestly thought I'd looked at this from every side.”
“Didn't occur to me, either,” Draper admitted with a shrug. “I just assumed they did okay and that was that.”
“They may have,” Gary gave a shrug of his own. “I have no idea one way or another. I just… if they had all that, and they did okay for themselves, would there be any reason for them to reach out, to use my own words?”
“Lot of farm country there, and livestock, too,” Pickett mused. “Admittedly there's a lot of people there, compared to here, but not enough that the food growing in the area couldn't feed them all. But harvest was already in when the lights went out.”
“A lot of their farmers store their grain,” Gordon spoke for the first time in several minutes. “Some to use as silage, others to sell later, hoping the price climbs. Lewiston is still a rural community, just larger than Peabody or Jordan, so you can bet a lot of people would have canned food for the winter. Assuming they had good leadership and were willing to work together, they could have made it. It would have been difficult, but they could have made it.”
“Well, I think the idea of 'reaching out' needs to be tabled, for now,” Dawson said, raising himself up from where he had been leaning on the Hummer, perhaps in unconscious imitation of Clay leaning on the building. “That done, we should try and decide about what we do ourselves. I should say you all should do that,” he amended. “I actually need to borrow Clay for a few minutes on a different matter if he doesn't mind.” He looked at Clay.
“Sure,” Clay agreed readily enough. Their past problems aside, Clay had no real animus for the other man. “Let’s take a walk.”
-
“So, what's on your mind?” Clay asked as the two walked slowly down the drive.
“Originally, nothing,” Dawson admitted. “That remark about Lewiston caught me by surprise. I wasn't worried when we came out here. In fact, I was kinda hopeful. Now, I ain't so sure.”
“You mean about them having a Guard presence?” Clay asked, and got a nod in reply.
“I honestly know almost nothing about the Guard or Reserve either. I never served with them overseas or trained alongside them here at home. What could they have there, and who would be able to use it?” Dawson asked.
“As to what they could have there, according to Tully, every armory will have a company's worth of small arms and enough ammunition, generally, to outfit that company for initial contact. Other than that, it depends on the unit. They could have everything from a few armored Hummers to an Abrams tank, or anywhere in between. Let’s get Vic and let her tell us what she knows.”
-
Millie looked at Leon as the two eased back inside. They had stopped listening when Clay and Dawson had departed.
“I hadn't thought of any of that,” Leon said, shamefaced.
“None of them had either, you know,” Millie reminded him.
“I'm-,” he started, but then stopped short, face reddening a bit.
“Smarter than the rest of us?” Millie teased. “You don't have to be embarrassed about that, Ace. It's easy to see that you and Leann, and JJ too, are head and shoulders above most of the rest.”
“Not you, though,” Leon semi-objected.
“Me, too,” she laughed lightly. “Sure, I'm plenty smart, and the stuff I know about, I'm as close to an expert as you can find out here, I guess. Well, besides your uncle, anyway. But as smart as I am, and I am smart,” she stressed, “I'm not nearly as smart as you guys. So, stop being embarrassed to say it. You're smarter than most of the rest of us.” She paused before adding; “So what?”
“What do you mean, 'so what'?” Leon looked confused.
“Leon, no one is going to think of everything,” Millie tried not to sound overly exasperated. “Not even you or your sister. And, not to hit a sensitive spot here or anything, but you are just sixteen. There's a lot of things you aren't going to think of simply because you've never experienced them. Same with me, she shrugged. “I'm a little older, but not enough to matter.”
“What do you mean, exactly?” Leon asked. It wasn't a challenge, just a request for information.
“Well, have you ever had to think about paying utility bills?” Millie asked. “Or going grocery shopping?”
“No,” Leon admitted.
“Well then, why would you think about Lewiston, wherever that is in the world, having a National Guard detachment? Anyone in your family in the Guard?”
“No,” Leon was beginning to see her point. “I get it. Okay, so I'm excused for missing that. But what can I do, can we do, to learn a bit more about Lewiston?”
“Other than going there, which we are not doing,” Millie pointed a black painted nail at his nose in warning, “nothing.”
-
“They're not a full troop,” Vicki Tully told Clay and Dawson. “They're a detachment, I think from D troop, but... don't start me to lying. I can't really remember. If I remember right, they're scouts, so there may be a Brad there for training, but they would use Hummers and MRAPs in the field, so that would be the bulk of their vehicles, I'd imagine. They should have a pair of heavy trucks, and call it a half-dozen Hummer trucks, but,” she held up a finger,” remember that a lot of our equipment didn't come back from the Middle East when we did. We left our equipment behind for the unit taking our place and were supposed to be issued new gear when we got home.”
“Which I bet didn't happen,” Dawson raised an eyebrow.
“Man wins a cookie,” Vicki nodded. “Now, all of our small arms came back with us, and they would certainly have restocked munitions that were supposed to be kept on hand, assuming that hadn't already been done. And just because my Troop didn't get new gear on time doesn't mean Lewiston hadn't already gotten theirs. That's a different Squadron from where I was, so I don't know.”
“How come you went all the way to Columbia instead of going to Lewiston?” Dawson asked, curious.
“Well, for one, I go where I'm told to go,” Vic laughed. “For two, after my EOD training, I was sent to an Ordnance troop. I know folks who drive for hours to drill, though, so Columbia wasn't a big deal.”
“Hours?” Dawson really had no knowledge of the National Guard.
“Pilots especially,” Vicki nodded. “Our choppers are spread all over the state in penny packets for training, but for some guys it was still a long drive. But you can't just leave a fully operational Blackhawk or Apache at any old airfield,” she grinned.
“No, we wouldn't want that,” Dawson laughed. “Well, so we know a bit more, but not much. Would this Detachment have a company level armory, or just enough for themselves?”
“Good question, and I don't honestly know, for sure,” Vicki admitted. “But I'd err on the side of caution with that one. With all the emphasis on Homeland before this happened, it would be very possible that they had a full load out. Another thing to remember is that the scout outfits are usually too far out in front for support from other outfits. I have no idea if they have any Gustavs or Stingers, but if they could get their hands on them, you can bet they'd have them. All alone like that, way out in Indian country, you will trade, steal or bargain for anything you can get that might keep you alive.”
“Yeah, I know that's right,” Dawson nodded grimly. “We were usually sent out in platoon detachments to outposts when I was in the Sandbox, but we always tried to have at least one LAW for every fire team. They were damn handy for taking out cave snipers.”
�
�Exactly,” Vicki was nodding. “Anyway, I hope that helps. It's all I really know about them. Well, other than to remind you that if I'm remembering right and they are scouts, expect them to be tough. They take it seriously. Know what I mean?”
“I read ya,” Clay nodded, grinning. “Thanks, Vic.”
“You betcha,” the bouncy trooper saluted before moving away at a job.
“She's kinda... energetic, ain't she?” Dawson noted, watching her go.
“Bundle of it,” Clay agreed. “And always ready for a fight, too.”
“Well, I don't know whether to feel better or worse,” Dawson admitted. “But I'm leaning toward better. However, I'm also having images of a town full of idiots, or worse, zealots, with a company sized weapons armory at their disposal.”
“You'd know it by now, I think,” Clay disagreed. “Think about it. That bunch from Huntsville running around everywhere, and then that outfit that hit you guys before coming out here? If Lewiston was into that kind of thing, they'd have been here by now.” He was silent for a few moments, thinking. Before he could speak again, the sound of people running came to them, and soon a line of eight women in shorts and tee shirts went by, all huffing with a rucksack on their back and a rifle in their hands. Tandi Maseo was running with them, backwards, yelling a cadence when he wasn't screaming encouragement.
“Who are they?” Dawson asked, turning to look at Clay.
“Women we found in cages in Peabody,” Clay left out the details. “They don't want to be victims again, so they decided to learn to fight. We're teaching them to fight.”
“How many people do you have out here trained like that,” he nodded to the disappearing group of women as they moved up the hill and out of sight.
“That's need-to-know,” Clay said flatly. “And you don't.”
“Sorry,” Dawson held up a placating hand. “You're right. That was out of line. I was just curious, though, I promise. The reason I asked was that I've been thinking maybe we could have some joint training sessions. Maybe get used to working together.”
“Are we working together?” Clay asked him, eyeing him closely.
