The Guardians (5 page)

Ollie walked into the room and said, "Well hello Gentlemen.  How are things over on your little piece of the world?"

"We can't complain about a thing Sir.  How are things going in the livestock business?" Evan replied.

"Mostly OK I guess," he said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. 

"Mostly?" inquired Mildred with a concerned look.

"Well, it may be nothing, but there are a few head of cattle I can't account for.  They may have slipped through the fence somewhere, or maybe I missed'em in the count.  I'll count'em again tomorrow," he said trying to dismiss his concerns as nothing to worry the others about.

"Why don't Evan and I patrol the full length of your fence with you while we are here to see if there is a place they could have gotten out?" Jason said.  "We came all of this way, we might as well help."

"I appreciate it, but that would take too long today.  Some of it would have to be done on foot since there is a bit of a mud bog that the tractor can't get through right now.  I'll count'em again tomorrow and we'll worry about it then if need be," Ollie answered with an insistent tone.

"Do you have a gun you take with you into the field?" Evan asked.

"I keep my shotgun on the tractor.  That's all I've ever had a need for around here," he said.

With that being said, Evan rotated the paddle holster holding his .45 caliber Springfield Armory 1911 that he had on his strong side, freed it from his belt, and placed it on the table with the muzzle pointed in a safe direction.  He then did the same with his double mag pouch that was on his weak side, and placed it on the table as well.  "Keep this with you at all times.  Have it on your side so that if you step off of and away from your tractor you won't be away from your gun for even a second," he said.

"Oh nonsense, you keep that, you need that more than me," Ollie replied in protest.

"Trust me, I have more than this.  It won't be missed.  Just don't sell it on eBay or something," Evan said jokingly.

"E what?" Ollie asked.

"Oh never mind.  That was just a bad bygone technology joke," Evan replied.  "So anyway, it's settled."

"OK, fine," Ollie said.  "So back to the other business at hand.  How is the confederacy going?"

"Confederacy?" asked Jason in a confused manner.

"Oh don't get wrapped around the axle on what you learned in school about the civil war.  A confederacy is a loosely formed alliance.  We all share a common goal, but stand as individuals.  So we, as in our trade and barter group, are a confederacy of sorts."

"Oh that," Jason replied.  "Well, we have twelve of the fourteen surrounding properties on board."

"Who are the two hold-outs?" asked Ollie.

"The place just off of Big Ridge road that has an old run down farmhouse with a few double wide trailers set up out back is one.  The other is the Murphy place a little on down the road from there.  That is, I assume it's the Murphy place as that is what the mail box says," added Evan.

"Well, that first one you mentioned is Frank Muncie's place.  I believe he died a few years back.  He was a rough ol' feller, but was overall a decent man.  His boys however, which should all three be in their thirties or so by now, are a different story.  Frank just didn't raise'm right.  He just let'em do whatever the heck they wanted all their lives, and needless to say they didn't turn out to be worth a damn.  Frank Jr., the oldest, was in and out of jail by the time he was eighteen.  Mostly for theft and petty stuff.  Once the other two boys got old enough though, the three of them together went bad in a hurry.  Word is they got into sellin' weed, and from there got into pushin' prescription pain pills and such.  Them ain't the kind of fellers you wanna be doin' business with anyway.  Now the Murphy's on the other hand, that concerns me.  What exactly happened there?" asked Ollie.

"We didn't even get to the front gate," Jason said.

"Yea, we drove our ATV's toward the front gate and someone fired a warning shot over our heads followed by someone yelling from the inside of the house to get the hell out of there.  We didn't want to get into it with anyone, so we just complied and moved on," answered Evan.

"Hmmm, well I don't know what to think about that," Ollie said as he just looked down to the table with a concerned voice.  His frustration and concern was evident from his demeanor.  "Well, let's give it a day or two and then go pay them a visit.  If I'm with you maybe he won't go off half-cocked."

"What's the situation over there that's got you concerned?" asked Jason.

"Issac Murphy and I go way back," Ollie answered.  "He and I grew up together.  We've lived here all our lives.  He's a good man, but his wife passed on about five years ago and he didn't take it well.  They had been married pretty much since the dinosaurs roamed these parts.  He was just never the same without her.  He went from being a friendly ol' coot like me to being a cantankerous ol' hermit.  Still, it doesn't seem like him to pop a shot off at someone though, unless they earned it of course.  I guess I just haven't given much thought as to how he must be gettin' by out there by himself since the collapse.  I feel like I owe it to him to go and check on him.  For ol' times sake."

"Well, we would be glad to escort you out there," Jason said.

"I don't need no damn escort!  I'm not helpless!  I just need someone to ride shotgun," snapped Ollie,

"Oliver!  Mind your manners!" interrupted Mildred

"You're right Dear," he sheepishly replied.  "I'm sorry boys.  There has just been a lot to digest lately and I let it get to me."

"Don't worry about it Sir," replied Jason.  "We would be glad to ride shotgun for you."

"OK, let's not get all mushy here, back to business.  So other than those two, what are we looking at as far as this barter system goes?  Who's got what?" Ollie said changing the subject.

Evan dug a piece of paper out of his pocket and began to sift through what was written on it.  "Well, you have cattle.  We have offered up security services as well as pick-up and delivery services for anyone who doesn't feel comfortable traveling right now to make their trades.  This of course requires payment in fuel to make the delivery, as well as some extra for our use back at the Homefront, or possibly a small share of the load.  The Brooks Farm has general vegetables and such for trade.  That could come in handy for lots of folks.  The Dean's still have their dairy up and running to feed themselves, but say they can ramp things up to produce butter and some basic cheese products.  They can also produce milk, but aren't quite sure if the logistics of delivery would work out.  Jimmie Lewis has been the local moonshiner around here for a while and has a stockpile of shine.  He says he can fire it up and produce more if he can get the corn and sugar, but what he has will last a while.  Even for the people who don't drink, it could be used for an antiseptic or cleaner."

"Or dragster fuel," added Jason jokingly.

"Yea, you joke but you're not that far off base.  That stuff can be used for all kinds of things," replied Evan.   The Skidmores have chickens and pigs to trade.  Lloyd Smith says his family will start breeding some of their egg laying chickens soon and will have plenty of extra eggs.  He also has a good-sized garden and his wife is into canning, so he says they can also trade canned produce for winter use.  Bill Duncan used to grow tobacco, but switched to corn this season.  He says he has a bunch ground up into corn meal."

"That's it for food, but that's a good start," Evan continued.  "Other than food and our services, William Bailey has offered woodworking and carpentry services.  He also has an old saw mill he can use to rip logs into boards.  Charlie Blanchard owned the hardware store in Del Rio.  He says he has a bunch of various nuts, bolts, nails, screws, tape, wire, and such that he could use for trade items.  His brother Toby Blanchard has a junk yard of sorts with cars, equipment, appliances, and more.  He said all of that could be used for parts and pieces for trade.  Linda Cox had an alterations shop, so she has all of the fabrics and threads needed to make and or repair clothing.  And last but not least is Daryl Moses.  He's been into frontier days reenactment stuff with old muzzleloaders, long bows, animal traps, and stuff like that.  He got so into it and wanted to be so correct to the period that he started making black powder from scratch, the old way, using a mixture of saltpeter, charcoal, and sulfur.  He was into flintlock muskets, so he makes it in FFG and FFFG grades."

"That could be some handy stuff, added Jason.  "Heck you could reload old hi-capacity case cartridges like .38 special, .45 Colt, .30-30, .45-70 and just about any other cartridge designed before the end of the 1800's with that stuff as long as you had a bullet mold and primers."

"Not to mention blowing out old tree stumps, or heck even bombs if a fella' needed it," added Ollie.  "Sounds to me like our little confederacy is off to a good start."

****

Chapter 5: Nightmares

There was a noise just outside the front door.  They could not see what was there due to the power being out.  Their flashlight batteries were all dead by now, so the young boy's grandmother lit a candle and handed it to his grandfather to go and see what was going on.  He did not believe in having guns in the home, so all he had for protection was a cane that he occasionally used when his hip pain was flaring up.  The hip replacement that he had received a couple years back had been giving him trouble over the past few months. 

As the boy's grandfather crept into the living room to see what was going on, his grandmother led him to the utility closet and said, "Here son, hide in here until your Grandpa or me says it's OK to come out."

The boy just nodded and did as his Grandmother asked.  The neighborhood had been getting more violent as each day passed.  Not only because people were running out of their basic supplies, but it was also becoming clear that the police or any other sort of authority was not coming to fix things anytime soon.  Several of the neighbors had been robbed over the course of the last few days, so they knew it was just a matter of time before they had to deal with the people migrating out of the inner city.

The boy sat quietly in the darkness of the utility closet.  Sounds were all he had to paint a vision in his head of what may be going on in the house.  He could hear his Grandmother whisper, "What is it?"

"I don't know.  I thought I heard whispering and some shuffling around the door, but it seems to be gone now," his Grandpa replied. 

He sat there in total silence for the next few minutes, trying his best to hear anything at all in the other room.  Then he heard his Grandpa say, "I think they are gone."  No sooner than he heard those words, he heard a violent crash and his Grandmother scream aloud.  Several loud male voices came running into the room yelling profanities and racist remarks as he heard thump after thump and his Grandpa wailing and moaning.  He heard his Grandmother run by the closet towards their bedroom, slam the door, and lock it behind.

"What were you gonna do with that cane ol' man?  Where you gonna try and hit me with it?  I'm gonna beat you to death with your own cane you stupid ol' fool," shouted one of the strange men.  He heard the sound of something swinging and thumping over and over again as the man yelled, "Hit me with it now fool!  Hit me with it now!"

Several other men walked past the closet where the boy was hiding.  He was now wedged behind the water heater, shaking in total fear as he heard the horrific sounds coming from his grandparents home.  He heard another crashing sound and screams from his Grandmother as she was dragged past the closet towards the living room.  When they got her to the living room he heard her scream, "You killed him!  You killed him you bastards!" as her words fell into a deep and sorrowful cry.  He had never heard so much pain in a person's voice.

He then heard a smacking sound as one of the men yelled, "Shut up bitch!"  He could hear the sounds of tearing clothes as his grandmother sobbed painfully.

A few minutes of a muffled struggle went by and one of the men yelled, "Hurry up, it's my turn."

"I'll be done when I'm done," another voice said.

He could now hear footsteps coming to the closet.  He tensed up in total fear as he heard the knob on the closet door begin to turn.  The closet door opened and a bright flashlight shined in the boy's face followed by a large and dirty hand grabbing him by the arm.  A voice from the figure in the darkness said, "I've got a young one!" as he pulled the young boy from the closet.

Peggy awoke to the sound of Zack screaming down the hall.  She ran out into the hallway to find that Griff and Jason had also heard the screams, and had come running with their pistols at the ready, just in case it was an intruder causing the commotion.  Griff was the first to arrive at the boy's room as he had been up to stand watch that night.  Jason followed closely behind, having been awoken by the screams.

They ran into the young boy's bedroom to find Zack in his bed under the covers kicking and screaming, "Get off her! Get off her!"  Zack, being the smallest of the three boys sharing the room, was sleeping on one of the two bottom bunks.  Peggy ran to him, pushing Griff out of the way and sat on the bed next to him.  She put her hand on him to wake and comfort him.  As soon as her hand touched his back he flinched violently and then awoke to see that it was only his mother and not the intruder in his dream.  He climbed into her arms sobbing saying, "They wouldn't stop, they wouldn't stop!"