299 Days: The Community (14 page)

Rich Gentry was making full use of the terrain he had been given. He had a half dozen well-armed and organized men. His hardest task was administrative: keeping track of who lived there and who their guests were.

As Mark’s convoy approached, Rich went up to greet them. He recognized Mark’s truck and the others in his group, but he checked them out in person, just to be sure.

“Hey, Mark, how were things in town?” Rich asked, knowing that all the other guards and everyone else would be interested in the answer. Rumors were flying like crazy. Who had gas and what things cost was a topic of constant conversation.

“Slippin’ a little,” Mark said. He described the surcharge and $200 limit at the grocery store and that gas was now $15 a gallon. He described the limits on ammunition. He didn’t mention the Mexican grocery thing since, technically, brandishing a rifle like that was illegal. Why tell an ex-cop that your friend just committed a crime?

“You have any additional riders from when you left?” Rich asked.

“Nope,” Mark said, glad that Rich was thinking of things like that.

“There’s a meeting tonight at 7:00 at the old Grange hall,” Rich said. The Grange was a farmers’ association that saw its heyday in the 1950s. They had buildings for meetings throughout much of rural America, especially in the West. Most of them were pretty rundown, since few Granges still met. They had a cinderblock building painted white in the middle of Pierce Point. The tiny Pierce Point Church rented it on Sundays, which is how the Grange paid the utilities. The building was run down, but always had a fresh coat of paint on it and was clean. A few elderly farm families took great pride in their Grange hall.

“I’m not a homeowners’ association kind of guy,” Mark said. “What’s the meeting about?” As if he didn’t know.

“Security,” Rich said. “We want to get some guards and patrol volunteers together. You and,” Rich pointed to the trucks driven by the Team, “your young friends are welcome. Bring John, too.”

Rich noticed the CBs they had. Those would be extremely handy to have. Rich was initially surprised that the authorities were allowing CBs to operate. There were probably all kinds of protests being planned with CBs and every other means of communication.

Rich, who was an active Oath Keeper, knew that CBs would eventually be used by the Patriots. Why wouldn’t the government jam the CBs? Then Rich realized that the truckers needed CBs, and the authorities needed the truckers. CBs meant supplies got to where they needed to be, and preventing the unrest that came from the population not having supplies was more important to the government than preventing people from communicating for anti-government purposes.

“See you at 7:00,” Mark said. He was glad that an old Marine like him could help out. He was really glad the Team was out there. He thought how much better they were squared away than the people in Frederickson, let alone what Olympia must be like. He didn’t even want to think about Seattle.

Rich waved them through, but he still looked into the trucks as they went by. He noticed the chicks and chickens Mary Anne had. Someone thought this little crisis was going to last for a while, he thought.

They pulled up to the Over Road guard shack. Paul was there with a shotgun and Chip had an AR. They waved them in. Everyone parked and started unloading the goods. They were telling everyone the stories and describing what they got. The chicks and chickens got the most attention. John started planning to build a coop.

Grant was disappointed that they only got $200 worth of groceries, and no staples, although, the jam and syrup would come in handy for the biscuit and pancake mix they had. Calories were calories. That was funny, Grant thought. He was thinking of food as calories now.

There was a smell; a BBQ. Chip had started it up around noon. Paul got some frozen salmon out and they were ready to cook it up. Everyone was hungry, especially the milk run crew. They realized that all the stress suppressed their appetites, but when the stressful event was over, their appetites quickly returned.

They ate and planned out what to do that afternoon. They would build a coop and inventory each household’s supplies. People were taking guard duty without being told; it was just something they instinctively knew to do. Everyone would meet back for dinner at 6:00 p.m. and then go to the meeting at the Grange.

Cole was the only one without any chores. He was enjoying it out at the cabin. His whole family was there and his sister was taking care of him. No school. That was the best part. He was in regular classes, but school was hard for him. All those people talking to him and making him talk. He wanted the quiet and to only be around people who knew him.

Grant realized that Cole also had to work, even though he had a disability. It would be good for him and everyone else would appreciate that Grant’s son wasn’t getting any unfair breaks.

“Come here, little buddy,” Grant said to Cole. Grant motioned for Manda to come over and join them.

“Yeah, Dad,” Cole said.

“We all have jobs out at the cabin. What could be a job for you, Cole?”

“Playing?” Cole said with a smile. He wasn’t dumb. He just couldn’t talk too well.

“Nice try.” Grant looked around. There were pinecones all around. They would burn nicely. It was May now, but would be cold in a while. They would need things to burn. “You can pick up pine cones. I’ll show you where to put them. We can use them to burn for heat in the winter.”

Cole nodded. He was happy to have a job.

“One thing, though,” Grant said. “You can’t leave the gravel road. You can’t go past the guard shack,” Grant said, pointing to the shack, “without your sister or one of us grownups. Got it?”

Cole nodded. It was so much easier to nod than to talk.

“OK, pal,” Grant said. “You can do a little bit of pinecones every day. You can still play, but just not all the time. Once the pinecones are done, we’ll have you do other things.” Grant thought about Cole gathering up all those apples that just fell onto the ground in the late summer. That was past the guard shack, but Manda could go with him. Armed, of course.

Cole would be the little gatherer. He could also run messages throughout the Over Road cabins. He couldn’t relay messages because his verbal skills were so low, but he could tell people to come to a certain cabin and talk to someone, or he could deliver a note. That kind of thing. Cole and Manda would also make beds, clean bathrooms, sweep, dust, and vacuum. They would set the table, wash dishes, and cook some meals themselves. They would also cut and stack firewood. They would assist with canning and dehydrating food.

Grant realized that Cole and Manda, the upper middle class suburban kids, didn’t really have any chores back at home. They sure would out there. It would be good for them. And it would be a real help to the grownups. The kids were open to doing chores. They both realized that their help was needed.

One thing the grown-ups would need to talk about was school for the kids. Abstract learning—calculus, comparative literature—would have to wait a future time. At least they wouldn’t be wasting their time with what passed for history before the Collapse. Grant had called it “Anti-American Studies.” It was pure indoctrination with no educational value. Out here, with no school and probably no internet or text books, they could maintain what the kids already knew with refreshers on the basics. Luckily, a year ago Grant had picked up an encyclopedia set for next to nothing. That had tons of great knowledge in it and it made for interesting reading for grown-ups when there was nothing else to do.

Grant realized how lucky they were that the kids were sixteen and thirteen. They already had a good chunk of their education. A makeshift school or semi-organized home schooling would be a topic for the next neighborhood meeting.

Dinner that night was deer steaks and some leftover salmon from lunch. Mary Anne and Eileen made biscuits. Everyone seemed to be getting along well. People were sharing things and offering to help each other. Grant hoped it would last.

“Time to get to the meeting,” Mark said, looking at his watch. Grant thought it was good that Mark was taking leadership on some things, like the meeting. It was also good that Mark, who was well respected by the Pierce Point full-timers, would be representing them at the meeting. John was liked, but not as well known. He and Mary Anne kept to themselves more than Mark and Tammy.

Grant thought about what to wear. That was such a pre-Collapse thought: dressing right for a meeting. But he didn’t want the Team to come across to the full-timers as too “military.” That would be a threat to them. The Team was wearing 5.11s and earth-tone t-shirts in colors like green, brown, and tan. Not camouflage, thank God. Actually, they didn’t have any camouflage, except for some outerwear. Their day-to-day clothes were 5.11s and similar things. They looked like military contractors. That was actually OK, Grant thought. Let the full-timers know that they have some skills—but not too many skills. Grant would wear 5.11 pants, but with a hunting t-shirt with a Mossy Oak camouflage pattern. Mark had hunting pants and a regular t-shirt. John had jeans and a hunting shirt. That was how guys out in rural areas dressed. Hunting clothes were a “two-fer”: clothes for hunting and for everyday wear. They only had to buy one set.

Grant needed to talk to the Team about the politics of the situation. This first meeting with the full-timers would be key. First impressions were everything, especially when the stakes were as high as they were right then.

Grant tagged along as the Team finished dinner and headed to the yellow cabin to get ready to go the meeting. He motioned for Chip to come with him. He didn’t want to have the political discussion in front of Mark.

When the Team was in the yellow cabin, Grant said, “Hey, guys, could I talk to you for a minute?” They looked like something was wrong or they were in trouble.

“Everything’s cool,” Grant said, “I just need to go over a plan with you. This meeting tonight is a big deal. It’s the full-timers’ first impression of us. We might scare them. We’re very tactical and they’re a little more on the duck hunter side.” Grant didn’t think his description was entirely accurate; these country boys were far more effective fighters than one might think. Grant wanted to compliment the Team and, at the same time, draw them the distinction between them and the full-timers.

“We are way better trained than these guys and way better armed,” Grant said with a “no duh” tone. “I don’t want them jealous of us or thinking we’re a threat to them. Remember, people aren’t sleeping, they’re afraid, and men are more aggressive during times like this. They might be looking for a reason to hate us. Now, at the same time, they need us and our gear, so they’ll probably be cool. Regardless, I did lots of big meetings at my old job and know how to handle these situations.”

The Team nodded. At some level, they were all thinking the same thing about easing into it with the full-timers. Watching Mark and Rich interact at the gate showed them that the Team was part of the larger Pierce Point security force, not a separate little unit.

“Here’s my approach,” Grant said, “Let me know if you agree. I think we should be ourselves. We are good at this tactical stuff. We don’t need to hide that, but we should respect the full-timers, especially their leaders, like this Rich guy who was at the gate. He’s an ex-cop. Mark said he quit about six months ago because of all the corruption. Mark is a leader, too. We need to take the lead from them, but we can be open about the fact that we know our shit. Let’s face it; we will end up being the SWAT team out here. But, we don’t need to throw it in their faces. Let them come to the conclusion on their own that we should be doing that shit.”

The Team nodded some more. “So I’m thinking that we go there tonight with just pistols showing,” Grant said. “Don’t even bring ARs.”

“Seriously?” Wes said. “What if we can’t trust these guys? I mean, I think we can, but I don’t want to take any chances.” The Mexican grocery store incident earlier that day had him thinking that long guns were pretty nice to have in an argument.

Grant thought about it. What he wanted was that the full-timers wouldn’t see a group of military contractor-looking guys show up with tricked out ARs. “How about if we keep the ARs in the truck?” Grant suggested.

“That will require one guy to stay with the truck and guard the ARs,” Pow said. “Hell, it would probably be a good idea to have someone doing that for all the cars there.”

Good point. “Sure,” Grant said. “Let’s do it. You can bring ARs, but keep them in one truck. One of you can stay with the truck. When it’s time to introduce ourselves, someone run out and get the truck guard.” Grant knew that specific duties instead of vague “somebody be the guard” plans were best.

“Who wants to guard the truck?” Grant asked. Bobby and Scotty raised their hands. They hated meetings.

“OK, Bobby it is,” Grant said. He looked at Scotty, “His hand was up slightly faster,” Grant said with a smile. He wanted to foster healthy competition among the guys on the Team. It kept people on their toes.

“I think you guys are dressed OK,” Grant said, looking at them in 5.11s and earth-tone t-shirts. “Here’s my idea on that. We can be a little different with 5.11s and that kind of thing, but no camo right now. That will freak them out. They might think we’re militia whackos. We don’t need that impression. Camo should be for outerwear when we’re going out to do something or are hiding in the woods. And by ‘camo,’ I mean military camo. These guys wear hunter camo, which is always going to be OK for us, it’s just that I don’t think you guys have any.” The Team nodded. They viewed hunting camo as “duck hunter” wear.

Grant went on, “Maybe after we have their confidence and respect, we can start wearing whatever we want, but that will take time. Do you guys think I’m crazy about this?”

“Nope,” said Pow.

Grant pointed to his own hunting camo tee shirt. “I will wear some hunting camo to kind of blend in with these guys.” They chuckled.

Grant pointed to Chip who had Carhartt jeans and a black tee shirt. “I think it’s great that Chip is wearing his working-man clothes, which is all he has.” Chip laughed. Chip never dressed like a “tactical” guy, even though he had all the tactical skills in the world. At his age, Chip would dress any damned way he wanted. And with all the guns he usually worked on, he needed clothes that he could get oil on and that wouldn’t rip.