by Reed, N. C.
“That's a sound move,” Clay agreed, getting to his feet. “I need to go over to the radio room.”
“What for?” Greg asked him, curiosity on his face.
“We aren't the only people wanting to know what's going on in Lewiston.”
-
Two hours later, Clay, Adcock and Greg Holloway were talking to Clint Dawson and Clem Pickett.
“Yeah, I'd like to ride in with you,” Dawson nodded eagerly. “Even got a horse and saddle,” he declared proudly. “We did what your sustainment expert said and got to moving around some. Found several stock animals that were unattended. We ended up with a small herd of cattle, a few sheep, seventeen horses and a dozen saddles. Lot of gear with that, too. That's one sharp little gal, she is,” he nodded firmly.
“She is, indeed,” Clay agreed. “So. Who else among you would want to go? We have horse trailers to carry probably, twenty-six horses or so, when it's all said and done. I'd recommend we go with less than that or else we run the risk of looking like an invader. The Captain is taking the equivalent of two fire teams. I'm taking Greg, and probably my nephew and one of his friends. I want them to be able to look for some people that went missing in the Peabody fire. That's twelve. You make thirteen. Who else you got in mind?”
“I don't think Doreen can ride, but Ben can,” Dawson was considering. “What about you?” he asked Pickett.
“Too stove up,” Clem shook his head. “I'd love to go and see, and maybe if this works out I can, but not on a horse. Sorry.”
“Why not just leave it as me and Ben, then,” Dawson shrugged. “If we can make a contact or get started on some kind of arrangement then we can always go back and hammer out details then. That makes fourteen. Couple big trailers can carry us all.”
“True enough,” Clay agreed. “I suggest we wait until day after tomorrow. Give things a chance to settle down. We can ride up there tomorrow afternoon and set up a small camp. We might get lucky and someone want to talk to us there. If not, we can ride in the next day and see what's what.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Adcock agreed.
“Good with me,” Dawson nodded.
“We'll pick you up tomorrow at around noon,” Clay promised.
-
“I want to go!”
“Not happening,” Clay was already shaking his head as three different women spoke in unison. Lainie, Abby and Samantha all three were all but jumping up and down.
“Why not?” Abby demanded before the other two could speak.
“We have no idea what we'll find there,” Clay explained. “No idea what conditions are like or who might be in charge. Until we know what things are like down there, none of you, none of the women here at all, are going. If they're doing anything similar to what was going on here, then anyone we take down there would be at risk. That's a risk I'm not willing to take.”
Not even Abby had an argument for that one as all three nodded solemnly, their excitement at the news now gone.
“I'm taking Gordy and Zach so they can check and see if any of the boy's families made it down there,” he continued explaining. “Also, Gordy is hands down a better horseman than I am. I'm thinking strongly about taking Kurtis as well, just in case we do have horse trouble. We have eight national guard troopers who will be riding our horses, so anything could happen. Having the two of them along will let Greg and I worry about who's in charge and whether or not we can deal with them.”
“That makes good sense,” Gordon nodded slowly. “Who else are you taking?”
“That's it, from here,” Clay replied. “Dawson and Draper are going from Jordan. They have their own horses now, and saddles as well. We'll pick them up tomorrow and trailer their horses down with ours. We're going to Adcock's last camp and set up there, then we'll ride in the next morning, assuming no one makes contact with us tomorrow evening. I'm hoping we can have peaceful contact tomorrow, to be honest. I'd a lot rather talk to them ahead of time as to ride in unannounced.”
“You're taking a risk either way, but that would be better,” Gordon agreed.
“I need to make sure we've got our own horses and those picked out for Adcock ready,” Clay mentioned. “And I need to talk to Kurtis.”
-
“Sure. I can go,” Kurtis Montana said simply, once Clay explained the situation.
“Remember, we have no idea what we may find there,” Clay reminded him.
“That's true about anywhere these days, I'd imagine,” Kurtis shrugged. Clay couldn't argue that point.
“Bring along whatever tools you think you might need to take care of the horses,” Clay settled for saying. “You and Gordy will be responsible for that. The two of you are likely the best horsemen in the group, anyway. I have no idea if Dawson and Draper can really ride that well, but they're using horses of their own that they found. We're taking eight for the guard troopers to ride though, so you guys pick out eight good horses and saddles for them to use.”
“We run a risk of losing them you know,” Kurtis said quietly. “Having them taken from us,” he clarified.
“I've thought of that, too,” Clay admitted. “And, if it happens, then we'll probably end up in a shooting incident. I have no intention of being victimized for just trying to see if anyone is alive down there, and seeing if they're interested in trading with us or Jordan. Adcock is looking for a representative of that stupid ass doomsday guy on the radio, too, so we got that to look forward to.”
“Reckon there's one down there?” Kurtis asked, grinning.
“Might be,” Clay shrugged. “They're supposed to be working this way, according to what Adcock has been told. If they are, then Lewiston is really too big to ignore. We'll find out I guess, assuming we get into town.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dawson and Draper were waiting when Clay pulled into Jordan at eleven forty-five. They were holding two good looking horses, one a black mare with strong lines and the other a tall, broad chested gelding with a paint coloring. The two men at least knew enough not to have saddled the horses, so Clay hoped that was a good sign.
The horses were loaded quickly and the two men settled in to the back seat of the quad-cab farm truck after stowing their gear in the trailer's front compartment.
“Good looking horses,” Kurtis complimented from the front seat. Gordy and Zach were waiting for them at Jake's with another truck and trailer carrying the rest of the horses.
“We found them grazing along the road,” Dawson shrugged. “I have no idea who they belonged to. I assume they escaped from a pasture after not being fed, but that's just an assumption. We'll probably never know.”
“How long to get to this camping spot?” Draper asked, ignoring the horse talk.
“No idea,” Clay admitted as he took the road back to the interstate. “We're going to wherever it was that the Guard troops camped last. Hopefully, whoever came to look them over last time will want to talk to us.”
“That's a lot of hope,” Draper commented. “Lot to ask for, walking up on a company of soldiers.”
“That's true,” Clay agreed. “And it isn't much of a hope, really, just a small one. I don't expect it to happen. I figure that unless we're extra lucky, we'll have to head in blind, on horseback.”
-
It took three hours to reach the spot where Adcock and his unit had made camp, and there was a new roadblock waiting for them when they got there. Adcock's men cleared it easily and began to set up their camp. Clay and the people with him unloaded the horses and picketed them inside what would be the ring of the camp, keeping them safe from predators, two legged and four. By the time he, Gordy and Kurtis had rubbed the horses down, watered them and given them their feed, the camp was established.
“Nice,” Clay commented, seeing the Temporary FOB package set up. Rigid structures supported by compressed air ribs that would house their entire group in relative comfort, even in adverse weather.
“It's old equipment, actually,” Adcock shrugged. “Some of the
first ever deployed over in Iraq, I was told. I remember we used an upgraded version of this for an actual base when I was there in 2015 on TDY. They really are a huge step up. Never thought I'd more or less call one home, though.”
“Where are you from, Lake?” Clay asked quietly. He'd never asked, and Adcock hadn't volunteered the information.
“Nashville,” the solder replied just as quietly. “I left ahead of the howling mob. It was just me, so there was no one to worry about leaving behind. I reported to the armory at Murfreesboro because they were the nearest one where I found another soul. I guess they made the call out before the storm hit. I reported in and was put to work.”
“Who's in charge?” Clay wanted to know.
“Major Andrew Whitten, at the moment,” Lake informed him. “He's the S-3 for the 168th MP Battalion. He worked out of Dickson but lived just south of Nashville since he was active duty. Technically he's in command of all of Middle Tennessee, but since we don't actually have control of Middle Tennessee, he's trying to concentrate on the problems he can fix, and guard against something awful happening.”
“Like an army of doomsday zealots invading?” Clay gave a grin that was more of a grimace.
“Exactly.”
-
“Okay, there's someone out there,” Kurtis said calmly as he sat around a tiny fire with Clay, Gordy, Greg and Zach.
“Yeah,” Clay mused without looking around. “Night birds and insects stopped about five minutes ago, and haven't started back. Whoever it is, they aren't getting along with the night too well.”
“Moving too fast,” Kurtis agreed. “They aren't as skilled as they believe, or else they're in a hurry.”
“No way to figure how many of them, is there?” Greg more or less stated rather than asked.
“No,” Clay agreed. “Could be just one. Once any of the birds stop, all of them do. Kinda like a bird dog honoring another pointer's set. He can't see the birds, but he'll point to support the dog that can.” Lake Adcock walked up to their small camp just then.
“Someone's out there, watching us,” he said easily.
“We know,” Clay assured him.
“I'm wondering how to proceed,” Lake admitted. “Do I call out and try to talk, or just wait and see what they do?”
“Six one-way, half-dozen another,” Clay shrugged. “You can speak to them and see what happens, or you can wait them out. If they're planning to attack, they'll wait until most of us are asleep, most likely. If you let them know you're aware of their presence, then they may retreat.”
“I think other than coming to talk to us, their retreating would be the best case for us,” Lake pointed out.
“Works for me,” Clay didn't offer an opinion. “Your rodeo, Captain. We're just the clowns,” he smiled in the fire light.
“Better get your barrel then,” Lake grinned back. “I'm about to poke the bull.”
-
“This is Captain Lake Adcock, Tennessee National Guard,” the PA was turned down low, and while it seemed to boom across the area, it was relatively quiet compared to normal. “We are not here to cause trouble for you so long as you aren't causing trouble yourself. We're trying to make contact with as many places as we can to evaluate what is going on around the area. We're also investigating the presence of certain agitators who may be working for a para-military force that is intent on trying to occupy this area. If you would like to speak with us, please do so. Come forward to the Hummer with the lights on and we can speak. So long as you make no threatening moves toward us, we will return that courtesy.”
After two minutes, Lake repeated the same message again, word for word, though anyone listening could tell it wasn't a recording.
“Movement front!” someone called calmly. Clay motioned for everyone to stay still as he looked at Greg.
“Might be someone you know,” he mentioned casually.
“I suppose I could go and see,” Greg agreed, getting to his feet. “Keep my seat for me,” he told Clay over his shoulder as he headed toward the Hummer himself.
“Will do,” Clay agreed, turning away from the fire to look outward. Seeing him do that, the three boys copied his move, facing outward and allowing their eyes to get the echo of the fire out of their vision.
“We stay put,” Clay said softly. “This may well be a ruse to let them try and steal the horses, or maybe the trucks. Could even be the prelude to an attack. Keep your back to the fire and your eyes and ears open.” He eased his hands to his ears to place his electronic hearing protectors in, and the three teens copied that move as well. They could still hear, but the ear buds would close off a sharp, loud sound to protect their hearing. A sound like a gunshot, for instance.
They sat for a long time, watching the outer edges of the camp's back. Clay saw some of Lake Adcock's men doing the same thing, with Lieutenant Flores and Sergeant Gleason quietly supervising. Twice during that time, Clay was certain he saw movement beyond the camp, and once he could hear movement as well, but no one tried to enter the camp, and no one shot at them. Clay took that last one as a good sign and a win.
After what seemed like half the night, Greg came slowly back, kneeling beside Clay as he watched out into the dark.
“One guy,” he said softly. “We aren't really friends, but I do know him. He's on watch, as they call it. Essentially a night watchman for this area. He wanted to get a look at us before he reported in. Lake talked to him, warned him we'd be riding into town in the morning, and that we were not looking for any trouble. So long as the town was peaceable, we would be as well. I mentioned that Jordan wanted to talk to anyone interest in trading goods and services, and mentioned that you might be interested in the same thing. I think that, more than anything, made the guy agree to go and report we're coming in peacefully.” He paused for a moment, and Clay looked at him, frowning.
“What?”
“He said there is a guy in town that's been spouting off about the worthy this and the worthy that,” Greg told him grimly. “According to him, the guy's had a tough time. No one wants to hear his message, and he keeps getting the shit kicked out of him. He says the guy more or less crawled off day before yesterday and hasn't been seen since, but that's not unusual. He mostly does that to lick his wounds and then return. The guy had been doing his best to stir trouble, but so far no one is buying.”
“So far?” Clay asked. “Does that mean he might in the future?”
“Bronson doesn't seem to think so,” Greg shook his head. “That's who the guy is. Van Bronson. Worked for the city for a while before becoming a deputy. We'd meet every now and then when there was trouble along the county line.”
“Wait,” Clay held up a hand. “Van Bronson that was a professional wrestler when we were in high school? That Van Bronson? The one who tried to wrestle Jake?”
“That's him,” Greg chuckled. “I used to remind of that incident every now and again, just to needle him a little.”
“Not you,” Clay scoffed. “Surely not you.”
“He takes it okay,” Greg shrugged. “No one else has ever been able to lay him out, so there's no shame in Bronson losing to Jake, either. Anyway, like I said, he's going to tell Seward, that's the mayor in town, Marvin Seward, that we'll be coming in tomorrow morning.”
“Trust him?” Clay asked.
“Not as far as I could throw him, nowadays,” Greg replied at once. “Back in the day, yeah. He was a good deputy so far as I knew. The few times we worked together he was as straight as an arrow. Lot of water under that bridge since then.”
“That is true,” Clay nodded as Lake Adcock walked up.
“We'll head in as planned in the morning,” the Captain said. “I think the man was on the up and up, but the only way to really see is to go and actually find out. He said all the right things, and promised nothing, which he shouldn't since he's not in charge. Had he guaranteed our safe passage and so forth, we'd know he was lying, since that shouldn't be a promise he could make.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Clay nodded. “We'll make ready in the morning. What time do you want to head in?”
“I'd prefer it be full light before we go,” Lake replied. “I'd really like to see what's around us as we go.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Clay agreed. “Sounds as if the night has decided everything is okay,” he added when a whippoorwill started singing toward the front of the camp.
“Does sound that way,” the soldier agreed. “We'll set double watches, just in case. Good-night, gentlemen. Sleep well,” he added with a grin as he moved away. Clay laughed lightly as he rolled his sleeping bag out back from the fire a ways. The others followed suit, and soon everyone was sleeping, all of them with whatever precautions they normally took.
Tomorrow might be a long day.
-
“Man,” Gordy groaned as he got to his feet, stretching his limbs. “I'm getting too old for this crap.”
“Bitch, please,” Clay grunted as he got slowly to his own feet. “You're like, twelve. Wait until you've got a few more years on you.” He had almost said 'wait until you've been shot a couple of times', but remembered in time that Gordy had already enjoyed that honor. The memory made him look carefully at his nephew, noting that Gordy was gently rolling the shoulder that had taken a bullet some three months ago. Gordy caught him looking and dropped his arm.
“Just sore,” he assured his uncle. “Imagine it will be from now on,” he added.
“Probably,” Clay agreed. “Don't overdo it.”
“I'm a hundred percent,” Gordy promised. “Just sore is all, like I said.”
“Okay,” Clay didn't belabor the point. Gordy should know what he could and couldn't handle, after all.
Kurtis and Gordy saddled the horses the soldier would use before saddling their own. Lake and the men and women going with him examined the horses as if they knew what they were looking for, checking cinches, bridles and reins before mounting. Two had some difficulty getting aboard, but once they did, seemed to sit a good saddle, as the saying went.
Dawson and Draper, who had enjoyed the hospitality of the soldier's group tent the night before, arrived just in time to saddle their own mounts, having ignored them until that point. Gordy and Kurtis shook their heads at the callous disregard for the animals well-being, but remained silent. Clay noted that with his own silent approval. That wasn't their problem, and they didn't try to make it theirs.
