We Go On (THE DELL) (5 page)

Jim and Dave turned and started to leave. "Oh no. Not
you two. You two stay!" I said. They both stood there, heads down as Kat
walked past them and shut the door. I sat back down and let the time drag out.
Just watching them. It was obvious it made them uncomfortable.

Finally, Dave spoke up. "I'm sorry, we should have…”

"Shut up Dave,” I interrupted. "Number one; I will
not have my two assistants arguing in front of the group." I looked at Jim.
"Jim, if you disagree with my decisions you can quit. You are free to take
your family and leave the compound anytime."

The startled look on his face told the answer to my
ultimatum. "I can't take my family out there alone. You said we could
always come to you with concerns, voice our opinions," he said.

"That's right, in private. We never argue in front of
the group. In front of the group we present a unified front." I paused and
shook my head. “We discuss issues in private and decide on a course of action
and then we
all
support that course."

"But … but what if I don't agree?" Jim asked.

"We've been through this. The majority decides a course
and I have the final say. You don't always have to agree with the decision; you
just have to support it in front of the group," I answered.

His face screwed up. "But this was wrong. It goes
against our rules and you have no proof they were responsible. I have a duty to
oppose a decision if I think it's wrong," he blurted.

I was on my feet in an instant. I grabbed the necklace off
the desk and threw it at him. He caught it and looked at it. "That's
Nancy's. That's all the proof I need. I took it from around the neck of the man
you are so worried about," I said.

"H-he could have taken it off her after she was dead,"
Jim stammered.

I exploded. I was right in Jim's face and he leaned back to
get some space. I started yelling. "You weren't there. You didn't see what
they did to her. I did. You called her and Mike your friends. That son of a
bitch had her locket with her son’s picture in it around his neck. He deserved
what he got." I stepped back from him and tried to calm down.

I turned and walked back to the desk then faced him again.
"Jim, it was my decision. I'm not asking you to like it. I'm telling you,
you can either support me in front of the group or you can't. If you can't you
are free to quit but I'm in charge here and if you stay, you are going to do
what the fuck you are told."

I let that sink in for a moment before I continued.
"There are people out there that live on the misery of others. They were
shit before the Event and they are still shit. Nothing changed for them except
fewer consequences. Every decision can't be made by committee. Some have to be
made in the heat of the moment and that's what I did this morning." I took
a couple of deep breaths. "Jim, I'm asking. Can you continue to support me
and keep our discussions in private?"

He thought a moment before he answered. "Yes, I'll
support you. You've gotten us this far but I have to able to voice my opinion.
I can't help it, I think this was wrong. The rules apply to all of us,
including you."

I sat down in the chair by the desk. I thought about how I
wanted to respond when Kat spoke. "Jim, you're right the rules apply to
all of us but all the rules don't apply all the time. That's what we call
extenuating circumstances. So if you break a rule but there's a valid reason,
then you really didn't break the rule."

Jim looked thoughtful a moment. "You think this was the
right decision?"

Kat answered without hesitation. "I can't imagine what
went through everyone's mind out there. Seeing a friend, seeing Nancy and Mike
like that, yes, I think it was the right decision."

 I couldn't have been prouder of her.

Jim looked at her. "And you aren't just saying that
because he's your husband?"

I wanted to punch him then.

"No, that’s my real opinion … as a lawyer."

Jim nodded his head. "Okay, I'll keep my mouth shut.
Can I go now?"

I nodded and he headed for the door.

Just as he reached for the knob I said, "Oh, Jim."
He turned to look at me. "If you ever call me an asshole again, I'll cut
you up in little pieces and hand feed you to the Stinkies."

He turned and headed out the door fast. I think he believed
me.

Dave still stood in the center of our room. I looked at him
and he had a big smile on his face. "Why’re you smiling?" I asked.

"Jim is such a pussy. You needed to...” he started.

I cut him off. "Shut up Dave."

He stopped and looked at me. "It's not like I'm pleased
with you either. You're my number two. You’re in charge of security and
everything else when I'm not around. You know better."

He started to protest and I held up my hand to stop him. He
closed his mouth and I continued. "First you engaged in an argument with
Jim in front of the other group members. You know how he is. Jim is a good man
and is good at his job here, organizing and keeping the group running smoothly
but he is much more suited for a boardroom. He will never be comfortable in a
meeting where our main topic of discussion is how many people did we have to
kill today and how are we going to dispose of the bodies. He's just not. I've
accepted that and I use him where his strengths lie and I use you the same way.
Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," was the only response I got.

"I'm responsible for the safety of everyone here, not
you, not Jim, just me. Every decision I make I worry about. Is it right? Will
it get anyone hurt or killed? And when I make a decision I don't need the
people I have helping me run things around here… you Dave," I pointed at
him to emphasize the point, "…getting the group stirred up."

I could tell from the look on his face, this time he
understood. "You're right, Scott."

"So, I should never expect to have this problem
again?" I asked.

"No. I knew better. I just lost my temper. As soon as
Jim started I should have grabbed him and headed up here to you. By the way,
sorry for barging in like that."

I nodded. "I don't expect you to be perfect. We make
mistakes and we are all under a lot of pressure. That's why I need you to keep
a cool head. Especially you. We have on hand about four days of food and water.
We depend on the foraging parties to survive. If everyone is scared and refuses
to go out on the supply runs, in four days we start to starve. How long can we
hold things together then?"

"Not long. I get it. Today was just another day, no big
deal. Handle it and move on but I made it a big deal when I started arguing
with Jim."

I smiled and nodded. I really liked this kid, well, he
wasn't a kid. Dave was twenty-eight when the Event occurred. He was thirty-three
now. He'd done two tours in Afghanistan and was as cool in a fight as anybody
I'd ever seen. That's why his acting this way in front of others had pissed me
off so badly. I knew what he was capable of and expected that from him all the
time. That's a lot of responsibility to put on someone and I knew I should go
easy on him. Problem is we can't afford easy.

"Okay, let’s move on," he nodded.

"How did Mike and Nancy get separated so badly that
this happened?" I asked.

Dave looked uncomfortable; I know he felt responsible for
them. We had talked about this several times since they had gone missing. I
know he had taken out three security teams looking for them but had never found
a trace. "I don't know. I know that's not an acceptable answer but it's
all I've got. I went over the route the foraging party took out and back that
day with Jim and Arnold Jablonski. Arnold led the party that day. He showed me
every turn they made and told me he had gone over the route with everyone
before they left that morning and before they started back. He said Mike was
the driver and was there both times he went over it. I drove that route forward
and back. I looked down every side street. The road you guys were on this
afternoon was nowhere close to where they should have been. No one can tell me
when they got separated or how. I just don't know, Scott."

"Well, something happened out there. We can't afford to
have it happen again. I want you to look at the procedures again. Tighten up on
the drivers. When they go over the route make them recite it back so you know
they have it. There should have been a gun truck behind all the vehicles in the
convoy. How did they slip out of line unnoticed?"

Dave nodded. "I know. I've asked that same question.
Either someone’s lying or they were asleep at the wheel," he said.
"I'll start doing the route brief myself for every party. I'll go over
procedures for disabled vehicle recovery and what to do if you get lost."
He thought a moment. "It would be a lot easier if we had more hand held
radios. Each vehicle should have a radio and do frequent radio checks. Even if
they get lost we can talk them back to the convoy or find a way to them."

"Good idea, Dave. Who was in the trail vehicle that
day?"

"Danny Reasoner was the vehicle commander for the tail
end gun truck. He's a good kid and I mean kid. He's eighteen but I've never had
a problem with him," Dave answered.

"Eighteen, seems a little young to be in charge of a
vehicle out like that?" I respected Dave's opinion, that's why he had the
job but something bad happened out there that resulted in the death of two of
our people. One of which was a loss we couldn't afford. Nancy had been a nurse
and any person with medical training was worth two of me and I was determined
to find out what happened. Danny Reasoner seemed like a good place to start.
"How did he act when you talked to him?"

"Like you'd expect, I guess. Sorry it happened.
Couldn't figure out how it happened. Said it would never happen again. Like I
said, he's a good kid and isn't a problem like some of the others," Dave
explained.

"Okay, I want to talk to him," I said. I could
tell from Dave's face that upset him. "I'm not saying you don't know how
to handle these men and women. I'm just saying he might say something to me he
wouldn't or couldn't say to you."

"Fine. Where do you want to talk to him? I'll find him
and send him you’re way."

I was about to respond when the radio on Dave's hip came to
life. It was the watch tower by the main entrance, tower one. Dave answered and
told them to go ahead.

I heard, “We've got a problem down here. You might want to
get here kind of quick.”

"Can you give me any more detail?" Dave asked.

“Yeah, a Road Gang. About ten vehicles pulling up across the
road from the gate. They don't look happy,” was the reply.

Dave and I looked at each other. “Let's go!” I said.

I grabbed my rifle off the desk and kissed Kat on the cheek.
Dave headed out the door as I followed. My wife threw a "be careful"
at me as I started down the hall. To myself I thought, be careful, yeah, that's
going to happen, but I knew what she meant.

I caught up to Dave as we started down the steps to the main
warehouse floor. When we hit the bottom of the stairs, Dave yelled he'd meet me
outside at the trucks; he had to go get his rifle. As we split up, I paused for
a moment to look around the big open floor of the warehouse.

We had been very active trying to get things set up to not
only be comfortable but safe. Dave was in charge of security and as part of
those duties had established procedures for what he referred to as Force
Protection. He said it had been a big part of living in Afghanistan for two
years and it had kept them safe. He was diligent and before long we had
procedures for alert status. Green’s for normal activity and no problems. Other
than the obvious zombies trying to eat us while we were on the verge of
starvation.

Yellow’s up a notch and for when there’s a threat but
nothing had happened yet. Red was bad. Red’s for when the shit had really hit
the fan. Dave assigned everybody duties and places to be during each of the
alert status. Some people were assigned to work in the Aid Station; some were
assigned to be stretcher bearers in case of wounded. Some were assigned to our
kitchen area to prepare meals for those on watch or patrol. We had people who
took the kids to one of the safe areas and kept them all together, though most
of the able bodied people were assigned to augment the security force. 

We couldn't harden the entire warehouse, it was just too
big. Dave had built safe rooms inside the warehouse and protected them with
sandbags we had scavenged from military convoys and the bases we searched.
Sandbags are great. They’ve been around for centuries, low tech, and effective.
Fill them with dirt, stack them up, and you have a bunker that small arms and
shrapnel can't penetrate. So basically, he created bunkers inside that the
noncombatants could shelter in if there was a fight. He also built several
positions around the perimeter so the security force had protected areas to fight
from and had even lined the guard towers with sandbags to help protect those
guy's. Dave's philosophy was that Force Protection’s an ongoing endeavor and he
had his people make improvements on our facility each day.

I stood at the door to the outside as Dave caught back up to
me. I stared out over the floor, looking at all of our people going about their
normal day, well as normal as things could be now. On the floor, kids ran
around playing and adults talked or worked on projects. I looked at Dave. "Think
maybe we need to go ahead and sound yellow alert?"

Dave looked out over the floor and I could see his thoughts.
What would happen if bullets started ripping through the thin sheet metal sides
of the building while all these people were standing around unprotected? He
looked back at me. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea." He ran off to
pass the word on the alert.

I took one last look around and headed out the door, happy
about stepping up the alert status. Kat's place of duty during emergencies was
the Aid Station. Doc Groves wanted her to help him even though she had no
medical training. His reasoning was that she was smart and he didn't have to
tell her every step to make. I was glad because the Aid Station was one of the
places we had hardened with sandbags. I knew it was selfish to upgrade the
alert status just so Kat could be in a safe area but if anything happened it
also meant the majority of our people would be in protected areas.

I approached one of the gun trucks as its crew clambered
aboard. Dave must have called them as he went to get his rifle. I climbed into
the seat as Dave came out the warehouse door. I heard the alarm inside sounding
yellow alert as the door shut behind him. He opened the rear door on the
driver’s side and said ‘let's go’ as he climbed in. Our vehicle lurched forward
and started for the gate. The other two trucks fell in behind us and I keyed my
radio and told everybody to lock and load. I could hear the 50 cal. gunner in
the turret working the action to make the big machine gun ready.

I looked over at our driver; sweat ran down his face and
from his expression, I could tell he was nervous. I tried to lighten the mood. "Hey,
it can always be worse."

Dave stuck his arm up between the driver and me, pointing
out the windshield. "It’s worse," he said.

We were nearing the gate and I could see what he pointed at.
Sparta Pike, a four lane divided highway ran in front of the gate. On the
opposite side from our warehouse lay a large tree lined field that was part of
the Wilson County fairgrounds. Barns and pavilions used during fairs and animal
shows sat back from the highway about two- hundred yards and big open fields
ran from the structures down to the edge of the road. Trees grew in lines along
the border and in clumps throughout the grounds giving the area a park like
appearance. Of course, after five years of no maintenance, the grass was over
grown and the place generally looked un-kept.

Behind the trees growing along the highway was a group of
about fifteen assorted vehicles. Pickups, old cars, even a few military type
vehicles and all loaded with armed men and a few women. They were unloading
from the vehicles and spreading out to take positions behind any cover they
could find. I saw heavy weapons like our 50 cal. mounted on a few of the
vehicles.

As we pulled to a stop in front of the gate, I looked back
at Dave. "You're right. It's worse." The driver looked at me; I could
tell from his new expression he didn’t appreciate my candor. I told him to be
ready and he nodded.

"Might as well get this over with," I said, and
opened the door stepping out into the cool evening air. It wasn't dark yet, but
the sun was definitely going down and the temperature with it. I looked around
at our defenses and could see all of our security people strung out along the
barricades and over turned semi-trailers. The gunner in the watch tower by the
gate had the stock of his weapon in his shoulder and looked ready. I nodded
more to myself than anybody else, thinking we have trained for this. Dave has
gotten them as prepared as is possible.

Dave joined me on my side of the truck and we exchanged
looks. He didn't say anything and neither did I. There wasn't much to be said
at this point. Our people were in position and the bad guys were about one
hundred and fifty yards away across the highway. With all the fire power aimed
at each other across the road, if everybody started shooting it would be a mess
for both sides.

I knew I needed to de-escalate this situation but I wasn't
holding out much hope. That's the one thing you can count on with the Road
Gangs. They aren't much for backing down or reconsidering once their blood is
up. I started toward the gate and Dave fell in beside me. I stopped and looked
at him. "Dave I want you to stay with the heavy gun truck."

"Fuck that! I'm not letting you go out there
alone."

"Dave, I really need you to stay with the truck."
He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked. "Look, I've got to go
out there and try to talk to these bastards. If shit goes bad, I need you
directing the 50 cal. to save my ass. Besides, if I get dinged, you have to
take charge. Both of us can't go out there. I need you here."

I could tell he didn't like it but he saw the logic in my
thinking. He nodded and went back beside the truck. I heard him telling the
gunner to make sure he covered me. Even though I knew Dave watched my back and
that every gun we had was currently aimed across the road, I still felt exposed
as I turned and started back toward the gate.

It's a funny feeling walking into what you already know is a
killing ground. I've bluffed my way into several tough places just by acting
badder than the guys I confronted. It used to work well when there had been
consequences for shooting a cop. Now though, I knew the crew across that highway
didn't give damn if I was a cop or the Pope. If it wasn't for the guns we had
pointed in their direction, they would have already opened fire. It's a funny
feeling, kind of like being told your fly’s down on a day you skipped wearing
underwear and realize it's been a couple of hours since you last went to the
toilet. Exposed.

There wasn't anything to do but to do it. I walked right up
to the center of the gate and stopped, put my hands on my hips, and yelled
across the road. I asked what they wanted and that I would talk to whoever was
in charge. Silence. That's not at all what I expected in return to my
challenge.

In most feudal societies getting elected Boss is not a
matter of popularity, charisma, or education. All of those characteristics
might help but the one that puts a guy on top is intimidation. The little
scrawny geek might know everything there is to know about survival, battling
zombies, or re-establishing society but nine out of ten times it's the six-
foot-four-inch, 250 pound monster with the twenty-inch biceps who gets elected
leader. I'm kind of the exception because I'm none of those things. I think I
got it because nobody else wanted it but they wanted somebody to blame when
things went wrong. Anyway, the rougher the crew, the rougher the Boss has to be
and this bunch looked rough.

I got exactly what I expected. A man, and I use that term
loosely. He looked more like a grizzly bear in jeans and sleeveless shirt, had
broken away from a group of four to five others clustered around an old red
Chevy pickup, and made his way toward the edge of the road. He carried a sawed
off shotgun and his size made the 12 gauge look tiny. He had to be close to
seven-feet in height. The full beard and shaggy hair added to the bear-like
appearance. He stepped up the edge of the road and stared back at me.

I thought to myself, he looks like a reasonable guy, I can
talk to him. Then the other side of my brain kicked in with, ‘yeah, right.’
Either way, I had to do something and “I'm Scott, can I help you?” was what
came out. I sounded like a door greeter at Wal-Mart, I could have kicked
myself. So I followed up with, “Jeez, you're a big guy. Where do they get
enough food to feed you?” I knew if I looked down, I'd find my balls rolling
around on the ground so I kept looking straight ahead at the giant I tried to
intimidate. Maybe if I asked him about his ensemble. I thought the green
baseball cap clashed with the red check pattern of his sleeveless shirt. I
heard Dave groan in the back ground. Not an auspicious start.

Man-bear continued to stare back at me without answering. I
figured this was a good time to re-group, so I put on my best cop face and
asked, "What do you want?"

You know how sometimes when you look at a guy and you try to
figure out personal things about him and then when you find out the truth
sometimes it doesn't match up? Like when you meet a great big guy and it turns
out he's got this squeaky little voice and you think to yourself, well, that
ain't right. Well, that didn't happen this time. His voice came out a deep
baritone that perfectly matched his appearance and I had no problem hearing him
across the distance of the four lane road, even though he wasn't yelling.

"You-ans killed my cousin, Markey. I'm gonna want
whoever’s responsible."

Succinctly put, I thought to myself. Not a Rhodes Scholar
but capable of complete sentences. Yeah, I can talk to this guy. "You’re
going to have to be a little more specific. We kill a lot of people," I
answered back. I felt sure I already knew who he meant, I am a detective,
remember.

"Sun up tomorrow or we's gonna come in there and take
everybody." With that, he turned and walked back to the pickup. At least
he's not long winded, that's the reason I don't care for preachers or
politicians.

I felt kind of silly standing there at the gate with nobody
to talk to, so I walked over to Dave. Dave, my ever present critic said,
"Great opening, 'Can I help you?' Good job Emily Post." I had to
remember to better explain the leader- subordinate relationship to Dave when we
had time.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I thought the 'we kill a lot of
people' thing at the end was a nice touch, though."

"I'm not sure. Were you trying to scare him or piss him
off? Cause I think you pissed him off."

"Really?" I asked. "I thought he looked
scared. He looked like he was shaking when he walked away."

"Na, that’s just all that body hair moving around under
his shirt," Dave replied.

I laughed, one of the reasons I liked him so much. No matter
how bad the situation was, he could find something humorous to say. But we had
a problem and it was time to get back to business. Dave saw the mental shift in
my face. "Okay, what now?" he asked.

"Well, it's obvious we aren't going to give up any of
our people. Besides, it's me they want and I'm not going to just go with
them." I paused, deep in thought. I needed time to think about this. I
knew the decision I had made earlier was what had gotten us into this but I
also knew I wouldn't have done it differently if I had it to do over again. I
knew that we had enough firepower to take on this group but it would result in
casualties on our side. I hoped to find a way to avoid that. Do I take
preemptive action or wait for them to make the first move? I had always been
proactive rather than reactive. Proactive lets you make the decisions, choose
time and place. Reactive means you're dancing to someone else's tune.

Could I find a way to get us out of this without firing a
shot? I had till sun up to find it. "Dave, keep everybody on alert but
keep them quiet. No accidents. I don't want someone to accidentally throw a
shot across the road and start a war. We've got some time and I need to think
about this. I'm going back to the warehouse. Meet me upstairs in the planning
room at midnight."