Fire From The Sky | Book 9 | Brimstone

by Reed, N. C.

  “I thought the same,” Clay nodded slowly. “Then, there's the fact that while they're eating field rats, we'll be over here eating high on the hog, so to speak. That's almost sure to cause a problem, eventually. But I don't know if we can afford to feed that many extra mouths. I won't lie to you, if we could feed them, then so long as you got what you wanted in terms of the personnel, I'd be tickled to have them here. Another fifteen to twenty well trained and experienced shooters would let us make this place a lot more secure.”

  “It also lets them know what kind of gear we have, too,” Jose argued. “I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

  “There is that,” Clay agreed. “I've thought about that, too. And there's no real way to hide everything for the entire winter. For that matter, others have already seen them and will talk, sooner or later. They would eventually see at least the vehicles if nothing else. Might well try and demand we turn them over come spring time.”

  “Which we will not be doing,” Jose said firmly.

  “Which we will not be doing,” Clay confirmed. “We'll try and have a meeting on this soon. As soon as we can, but there's no immediate hurry. They won't be going into camp for a while yet. Still, I don't want to wait too long.”

  “You want to do this, don't you?” Jose studied his friend closely.

  “I think I do, but at the same time I don't,” Clay made a gesture of helplessness. “There are advantages and disadvantages, not least of which is being on the controlling power's good side. Having them owe us a favor is in no way a bad thing,” he pointed out.

  “No, it's not,” Jose agreed. “I'll consider it both ways, myself,” he stood. “More shooters is usually a good thing in times like these.”

  -

  “I'm not so sure this is a good idea.”

  While it seemed to be the general consensus, Kevin Bodee was the one who put it into words.

  “Before we decide whether it's a good idea or not,” Clay raised a hand to quiet the murmurs in the small gathering, “I want us to review everything that would be attached to this in any way. First of all, can we afford to feed twenty extra people for the winter?”

  “I thought they had their own food?” Alicia both asked and stated. It was not a challenge, as it once might have been, but a request for clarification.

  “They will,” Clay confirmed. “That said, two things to consider. First, we could buy a lot of good will with a few meals over the winter. Second, the food they're eating is designed to last for years, but it's also trail food. Rations they need while on the move. If we can let them save that, it's a big help for them. They aren't making them anymore. Once they're gone, they're gone.”

  “I thought we weren't going to take anyone else in,” Angela said quietly. “What happened to that?”

  “We aren't taking them in, mom,” Clay clarified next. “They would essentially be wintering here, in camp. Much like the campaigns of old. Wars are fought in good weather, with garrison life or camp life in winter. Lake's CO is trying to spread his people wide in an effort to cover as much territory as they can. They don't have a bottomless fuel truck, either. They have to be as sparing as possible with it. He mentioned that they'd be back to using horses one day soon, just as we're starting to do. Considering that most of them are from an armored cavalry unit, he thought it was the height of irony. And it is, when you think about it. As he put it, all the way from horses to tanks, and then back to horses. A full cycle.”

  “Anyway, come spring they would rejoin their reformed command and return to their work,” he finished.”

  “Twenty people is a lot,” Lainie mused out loud. “But we purposely built a large cushion into our food preservation, as I recall. I don't know if it's that large a cushion, though.”

  “It depends,” Alicia offered. “It depends on how many actual meals we're talking about. We'd need to know exactly how many people, and for exactly how long, or at least as close as possible. For instance, we could easily feed them for a month and be okay. We might have to do as Dee mentioned,” she indicated the other woman with a nod, “and slaughter a cow or two that we didn't want to, but it can be done. As long as we're not doing serious damage to our herd or our stores, it's not a burden we can't manage.”

  Alicia's statement showed just how staggering her transformation had been since the disaster had struck. It had happened even before she had learned she was pregnant again, and had continued to evolve after that.

  “Clayton, what are the advantages and disadvantages of having these soldiers on the farm?” Gordon asked. “Aside from the food use, I mean,” he waved his hand as if to push that argument aside. “What good does it do us for them to be here, as opposed to their not being here?”

  “Probably the best question to consider,” Clay nodded. “The advantages are fairly straightforward. An extra fifteen to twenty shooters to defend this place,” he held up one finger. “Lake's CO will owe us a favor, assuming he's the kind of man who considers such things.” A second finger joined the first.

  “We can establish a lot of good will, at least among the soldiers who are stationed here,” he raised a third finger. “And that good will can translate into a much a better relationship with the people who are or will be the managing authority in this area as things become more settled. Hopefully we'll begin to see a return to at least some organized law. Lewiston still has it in spades, actually, but they didn't go through the war that Peabody did. Peyton's involvement in organized crime made Peabody vulnerable to that kind of violence, whereas Lewiston was more fortunate in that regard.”

  “As to disadvantages,” Clay continued. “First and foremost, it will allow them to see at least some of our hardware. There's no realistic way we can prevent them from at least getting a look at our vehicles. It's possible that they would demand we surrender them, which we will not be doing, to quote Poncho. They may also get a look at our armaments, which, to be honest, are a lot more powerful than what many of you have yet seen. Again, they may try to force us to surrender them, and again, we will not be doing that.”

  “There is also the idea of having fifteen to twenty men in camp near some of the people on this farm who have been through so much trauma,” Clay said finally. “While Lake mentioned that many of his men had their families with them in their base camp, I wouldn't expect to see any of those particular men show up here. It's more likely to be single men, and women, instead. Single men and single women, in large groups and in close proximity, will normally end up with people pairing off, even if it's just for stress relief,” he spoke frankly.

  “These aren't normal times,” Beverly Jackson noted firmly.

  “Right,” Clay agreed completely. “While there are a number of unattached females here, they are unlikely to respond favorably to being approached in any manner, let alone one that includes any form of physicality. I suspect that no matter who the senior NCO is, he or she will not be able to completely contain the behavior of young soldiers who may well view this place as their equivalent of being on leave all winter after months of active duty.”

  “Which means we'll have to do it,” Brick said from the back of the group. Several people turned to look at the big man, not even having noticed him being present.

  “Which means we will have to do it,” Clay confirmed with a nod. “Now, I am not saying we would have any trouble at all, let alone anything serious. Dad just asked for disadvantages, and that may possibly be one.”

  “Otherwise, we're looking at the difference of our standard of living as opposed to other people's. We've got it really good here, folks,” Clay reminded them. “That's not by accident, and we don't have anything we haven't earned, but it's still going to strike some the wrong way.”

  “Like Don Draper's attitude when we met to talk about the trade day,” Gary Meecham noted.

  “Exactly like that,” Clay nodded quickly. “And a good example. Despite how much help we've been to Jordan, there are still people harboring resentment toward us for nothing more than
having what we've worked so hard for, for so many years. For our family, for so many generations. And I have to admit, I'm getting tired of hearing it,” he added.

  “I think we all are,” Robert agreed with his younger brother. “I admit I had a lot of this figured all wrong, and that was one of the worst mistakes I made, right there. Thinking people would still be reasonable. Clay warned me over and over, as did others, and I ignored it. No, that's not accurate,” he corrected himself at once. “I didn't exactly ignore it, but I didn't want to believe it, which is almost as bad. The results are pretty much identical.”

  “I think by every objective standard, we've done our Christian duty and more,” Angela agreed with her sons. “Just because I think we should do something else, or something more, doesn't mean that I don't think we've done enough. It's just my automatic response to try and help. At my age, habits like that are pretty much set,” she smiled faintly.

  “I think all of us wish we could do more, Mother,” Gordon patted her hand gently. “Clayton, weighing the advantages you just pointed out against the disadvantages, which can you say outweighs the other?”

  “The advantages,” Clay replied at once. “It's a fact that the people in Jordan, especially people like Dawson who is former military, already know we've got the MRAPs and at a minimum heavy machine guns. They've seen them, and they've seen us in them. If Adcock doesn't know that by now, he will someday soon, even if it's just a casual conversation and not someone who wants to cause us trouble. But, the one disadvantage may be a trump card, and that's the effect their presence may have on the people here on the farm who have already had a rough time. I have no way to know or even guess at what that effect might be.” He looked to Beverly Jackson, who raised an eyebrow at him.

  “You know, if you wanted me to make an educated guess about that, a little warning would have been nice,” she told him, though her smile robbed the words of any sting.

  “Poncho was supposed to tell you,” Clay lied at once.

  “What?” Jose perked up. “What did you just say?”

  “What do you think, Beverly,” Clay ignored Jose's sputtering. “Best guess, even if it's off the cuff.”

  “There is no one-size-fits-all answer for that,” she informed him. “Each person is different. Each person experienced things in different ways or to different degrees. Each person has their own coping mechanism, some of which are stronger than others. There is no way to fit everyone together like that and make a pronouncement of how they will react to any given stimuli.”

  “Well, what if we look at it from another angle,” Greg spoke for the first time. “Who would be most likely to have an adverse reaction to their presence?”

  “Adverse reaction?” Clay looked at his friend with mock surprise. “Where did you learn that?” Greg didn't even look at Clay as he flipped him the bird, but continued to concentrate on Beverly for her reply.

  “Any of them could be triggered by it, if the right conditions are met,” she said after a few seconds of consideration. “But, consider what they have done since they arrived here,” she continued. “All of them have completed an intense training course and are now heavily armed and able. For that matter, they're still training. Many if not most of them decided to pursue that training because they were determined to avoid any sort of victimization ever again. It may well be that the presence of a large group of strange, armed men will trigger the exact opposite reaction you expect. They could actually turn aggressive. Violent, even.”

  “Hadn't thought of that,” Greg admitted, sitting back into his seat. “We're thinking of them as fragile flowers. We might be doing them a disservice here,” he looked at Clay. “And inviting trouble by doing it.”

  -

  “You really do invite trouble, do you not?”

  Xavier was looking down at Amanda Lowery, who had just tried to catch Zach by surprise, jumping him as he came out of the big barn behind the Sanders' homes.

  She was now flat on her back with a very real knife across her throat as the teen looked down at her with about as much emotion as if he were picking up litter.

  “That was stupid,” Zach told her softly, releasing her and getting to his feet. Neither offered to help her rise as she got to her feet and dusted herself off.

  “Well, I thought I might take you down like that,” she admitted ruefully.

  “Why is that so important to you?” Zach asked her, his head tilting a little to one side as he studied her.

  “It just is,” the woman almost snarled. “I'm tired of losing!”

  “There is no losing,” Zach replied before Xavier could. “There's no winning or losing when we're training. There's just learning. Improving. That's all.”

  “Well said, Zachary,” Xavier clasped the younger man's shoulder. “Miss Lowery, I believe you are under a false impression concerning our actions, here. This is not a game. There is no hierarchy of prizes. Everything we do is designed to make us better at defending this farm and the people who call it home. There is nothing else. No medals, no prizes, no awards.” He paused as he studied the look on her face.

  “Your emotions cloud your thinking,” he told her flatly. “I am somewhat surprised that a person who has your training would not be able to master her emotions. Especially when engaged in an training exercise such as ours. I surmise that your instructor did not instruct you in the arts of mediation at all?”

  “Of course, he did,” Lowery replied. “I was very well taught, actually. I'm just competitive. That's all.”

  “There's nothing here to compete for,” Zach was the one who answered her. “Just survival.” With that he started for his dorm at Building Two, nothing else to say.

  “What is wrong with him?” Lowery asked quietly, watching Zach go. “For that matter, what's wrong with you?” she looked at Xavier, only to find him studying her intently. She watched as he seemed to consider his answer, something he didn't usually do. She could almost see it when he came to a decision. Just a slight change in his expression, and his eyes.

  “Do you know how to feel sympathy, Miss Lowery?” he asked her politely.

  “Of course,” Lowery nodded. “Does he need sympathy?”

  “Are you, Miss Lowery, capable of feeling empathy for another person?” Xavier continued as if she hadn't spoken.

  “Putting myself in their shoes? Yeah,” she replied when Xavier nodded once. “I can do that.”

  “And are you capable of emotions other than the anger, jealousy and frustration that you have demonstrated when dealing with us?” Xavier's tone was slightly mocking, but only slightly.

  “Of course, I am!” Lowery replied hotly. “What does that have to do with him!” she pointed to where Zach was disappearing around the row of trees that lined the Sanders' driveway.

  “He, is not, capable of those things,” Xavier said slowly, drawing the sentence out as if trying to make sure all the words registered on her. Lowery stared at him for a moment, caught by surprise.

  “Say what?” she finally asked.

  “You, Miss Lowery, were born with the ability to not only have emotional reactions to outside stimuli, but also with the ability to note and react to that stimuli because others do. That last one is what we call empathy. You see others react to something, and you share in that reaction. A very human thing to do.”

  “Not all people are capable of those things,” Xavier continued. “Not all people are able to associate the suffering of others with suffering of any kind at all. And before you begin to think he simply doesn't care about other people or their misfortunes, know that there is a marked and notable difference between a lack of caring, and an absence of the ability to even consider caring.”

  “You're telling me he's a psycho?” Lowery said softly, as if Zach might hear. Xavier actually laughed softly at that, shaking his head slowly.

  “The education system in this region must be truly appalling,” he said finally, more to himself than to her.

  “Miss Lowery, a person suf
fering from psychosis is, by definition, lost from reality. Literally living in their own little slice of the world. Does anything about Zachary, or perhaps myself, give you the impression that we are somehow suffering from such a malady? Does our behavior fit that description in any way?”

  “You're scary,” Lowery said flatly. “I know that.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am,” Xavier admitted. “As is Zachary, especially when provoked. And trust me on this; you do not want to see Zachary provoked. And you are avoiding my question,” he raised an eyebrow. “Does our behavior, scary or no, fit the description of someone suffering from the malady of the brain known as psychosis?”

  “Not the definition you gave me, anyway,” her reply screamed reluctance even as she gave it.

  “If you wish, visit the group who runs the Operations Room, and ask them for the definition,” Xavier suggested as he began walking away. “Particularly, speak with Janice Hardy. She has quite the active mind and will certainly be able to answer your questions.”

  -

  “Oh, sure,” Janice replied, smiling brightly. “Psychosis is a serious mental illness, such as schizophrenic disorder, characterized by defective or lost contact with reality, often with hallucinations or delusions. That's from Webster. Would you like to know what the Encyclopedia Britannica says?”

  “No,” Amanda Lowery tried not to show her shock. This was turning into a hell of a day. “No, I don't need anything else, thanks. I appreciate your time, Janice.”

  “Of course!” the blonde smiled happily. “I'm always happy to help!”

  -

  “So, not psycho,” Lowery said an hour later, having looked Xavier up to talk to him again. He was sitting on the porch of the house where Janice lived, in fact, with a glass of tea.

  “Indeed,” was all he said. “I do believe we have pursued this particular discussion as far as is needful or necessary,” he continued after a moment of quiet. “I can see nothing more to be gained by continuing it. Let this discussion work in your favor, Miss Lowery,” he stood as he spoke. “Stop trying to compete with Zachary, or me, or anyone else. Stop competing, and start training as if your very life depends upon how skilled you can become. As if the life of the person next to you depends upon it. Because in the world we now find ourselves in, it does. Good day,” he smiled as he walked into the house, leaving her sitting on the porch steps.