299 Days: The Visitors (29 page)

Sap was the most down-to-earth Wisconsin kid anyone would ever meet, but he was calculating algorithms in his head as he was talking to you about ice fishing. And he could do all this after forty-eight hours of hauling heavy gear without sleep.

As Ted and Sap worked on a plan to start a guerilla unit near Olympia, Chip’s radio reports to Ted made it clear that Pierce Point was more than just a place where some guns were stashed. Chip’s reports about the services springing up at Pierce Point led the command staff to think maybe Pierce Point could do civil affairs for other places. That’s when it became time for Ted and Sap to go out to Pierce Point and see if the civilians Ted knew out there wanted to join up.

“That went well,” Sap said to Ted as they were walking back down to the beach.

“Uh huh,” Ted said, not wanting to discuss operations until they got back into the boat and away from any ears that might be lurking on the beach.

They got back down to the beach where Paul was guarding the boat. The Chief had gone out patrolling.

“Come back and see us real soon,” Paul said.

“We probably won’t get back out to these parts,” Sap said, trying to throw off Paul. “So, what’d you see this evening?”

“Nothin’,” Paul said with a smile. Sap had a good feeling about Paul.

Ted and Sap put their rifles and kit into the boat. They talked to Paul about the tide and the winds. He told them about a rock pile near in the water that might be submerged in this tide and then got on the radio to the Chief and said, “Green team out for a cruise. Brown team out.” Paul implied he was the “brown team” to make it sound like they were using colors to differentiate their own teams. That would lessen any meaning from “green”—as in green beret—that someone listening might notice.

The Chief’s voice came on the radio and said, “All beach patrol will allow a small vessel to pass out of the inlet and into the sound. Training craft.” That was as good of a story as any. No one listening to the radio would find this remarkable. It was a beautiful evening. Warm, with clear skies. At 8:30 p.m. it was just starting to get dark. They wanted to get back to Boston Harbor before it got pitch black. It was a short ride, about twenty-five minutes.

“So what did you think of those guys,” Ted asked, as Sap steered the boat just like he was on a Wisconsin fishing lake. Ted hadn’t talked the Pierce Point guys up too much in case they turned out to be a disappointment. He had only said that he knew them well and they seemed like very good initial candidates for an indigenous fighter unit. But that was it.

“Very impressed,” Sap said. “Better than a tribe of totally untrained goat herders like we’ve worked with before,” he said referring to the last overseas mission he and Ted were on. “They speak English, which is a nice change from our usual situation,” he added.

“Who do you think the leader is?” Ted asked, already knowing the answer but looking for input.

“That Grant guy,” Sap said. “He’s a consensus leader, but he’s clearly the leader. That Pow guy, the Korean, he’s a tactical leader. A sergeant type, but he’s young, so not a father-figure sergeant. The other three young guys are solid. They’re not mall ninjas. That Marine, Ryan, should be good. The old guy, your friend Chip, is good, too. A very decent start out there.”

“How about the government services they seem to have up and running?” Ted asked. Green Berets didn’t just talk about the “gun stuff”; there were lots of other components to an effective indigenous unit. “A library, postal service, and a makeshift court?” Ted said. “A food hall, an Ag department, a couple squads guarding the gate with an Air Force Security Forces guy running that? Taking down a meth house with an amateur SWAT team? A newspaper? A frickin’ newspaper? Called the ‘Patriot’ and everything? What a solid base of operations. You think they will get the Undecideds to come over to our side?”

“Hard to say with certainty,” Sap said, “but I think they have all the foundations laid for at least most of the population to support them. If they can feed and protect people, and the former government can’t—and we know they can’t—then probably people will side with us. I worry about the Loyalists they identified. Grant didn’t want to eliminate them. That’s a sign of a weak leader. He hesitates to do what’s necessary. He’ll need our guidance on that. We can always take care of the threat ourselves,” Sap said.

“Roger that,” Ted agreed. He had been thinking the same thing. Ted would give Grant a chance to do it himself. If Grant choked, the green team would take care of business. They would use that as a teachable moment for Grant, showing him what needed to be done and shaming him for not doing it. This was standard for how they dealt with wavering indigenous leaders and the elimination of collaborators and spies. But, Ted had to admit, they’d never had to do it against Americans. That was new.

“What do you think about Grant doing civil affairs for battalion?” Ted asked Sap. “Battalion” referred to the special operations group at Boston Harbor.

“It’s highly unorthodox,” Sap said. “He’s not trained. But, hell, no one’s trained for these things anymore. All our civil affairs nerds are still back at their Loyalist jobs so we have no choice. He has a track record out here in a little place. Could he replicate that in a bigger place? We could see. But he’s better than nothing.”

Ted decided that he’d recommend to Lt. Col. Hammond that Grant serve as the civil affairs officer. No one had expected to find a civil affairs person in a group of hillbillies. It was an unexpected find.

Ted and Sap were getting near their destination. Boston Harbor was a few miles north of Olympia on the water, a tip jutting out into Puget Sound with a big marina. It was a very strategic location that the Loyalists hadn’t figured out. They never expected the Patriots’ special operations command to be operating semi-openly in a little town so close to their state capitol. But they were; hidden in plain sight.

Boston Harbor was an unusual place in western Washington: it wasn’t full of left-wing kooks. For whatever reason—probably all the military people who retired there from nearby Ft. Lewis—Boston Harbor was actually pretty conservative.

Another factor was that right before the Collapse, the state environmental department declared that most of the homes on the water in Boston Harbor needed to be removed to save some snail. The locals didn’t appreciate that too much. Tensions between the government employees living there and the private sector residents ran very high. Early on in the Collapse, the leaders of Boston Harbor told the Loyalist public employees to leave. They threatened to burn down Loyalists’ houses. The Loyalists got the message and left in droves. They could live safely in nearby Olympia with their government colleagues. There were far too many arsons for the authorities to investigate. The Loyalist authorities didn’t have the time to worry about little Boston Harbor. They would let those right-wing nut jobs run their own little community.

So the Patriots did. Given how close they were to the capitol, which was still firmly held by the Loyalists, the Patriots were careful not to overtly strut around Boston Harbor with Don’t Tread on Me flags. There could be some remaining Loyalists who might rat them out. But the comings and goings of so many military men and women and their civilian friends was an open secret. The other open secret was that the Loyalists lacked the resources to do anything about it. They had big populations to control in the cities. That was all they could do. No one cared about Boston Harbor.

It was almost dark as Ted and Sap were pulling into Boston Harbor. They had left Pierce Point just in time. They slowed down as they got to the floating checkpoint. That was a “fishing vessel” that was really a Patriot naval observation post. Sap got his radio and called in the appropriate code. The response came back that they were cleared to pass. They were going slowly now.

As Ted and Sap pulled into the Boston Harbor marina, Ted said to Sap, “Let’s go tell Lt. Col. Hammond about the good folks at Pierce Point.” Sap smiled.

Chapter 167

Lives, Fortunes, Scared Honor

(July 3)

After Ted and Sap left the yellow cabin, there wasn’t a lot to say. The Team was pretty much silent. They all realized the magnitude of the decision they’d just made. But…they also realized that they had a date with some lovely girls. They’d earned that. They were single and in their twenties. Some things were more powerful motivators than the gravity of life-altering decisions.

Grant knew that he needed to take care of his guys. A good leader does that. He remembered the scene from
Apocalypse Now
when the commander of an American unit rewarded a brave helicopter crew by saying into the radio, “I’ll get you a case of beer for that one.” That’s what you did. You took care of your guys.

“Hey, you gonna text those girls?” Grant asked the Team. Phones came flying out and fingers and thumbs texted furiously. Smiles abounded.

“Not a frickin’ word to them, understand,” Grant said. They all nodded. “Seriously. Ted can, and will, kill you. He’ll kill your girlfriend for good measure.” Grant wasn’t kidding and they knew it.

“I’ll ask Gideon if a couple of you can have the keys to the night guard cabin,” Grant said. “He’ll be working tonight so he won’t need it.” The guys were glad that Grant was thinking of things like that for them.

“Roger that,” Pow said. “Who wants to join me in the night guard cabin?”

“Hey, ask the girls if they have any hot moms,” Chip said. He wasn’t kidding.

“Or grandmas,” Scotty said. Everyone laughed.

These guys had never been closer than they were right then. They had just signed their lives away. They would be together in the one thing that brought men together more closely than anything else: a small unit that was sure to see action. They would be brothers in arms for the rest of their lives. There was no closer bond. The hot chicks on their way weren’t even a close second.

Grant and Chip wished the guys success in their pursuits that night. They left the yellow cabin. Then Grant remembered something.

“Those guys have protection?” Grant asked Chip. “I don’t want my Team to be disabled from some disease.”

Chip nodded. “Roger that. Taken care of. I have a small supply,” he said with a grin. “Thought I might need them, but…those brothers need them more than an old guy like me. If those girls keep coming over, we’ll need to get some more or figure something out. I dealt with this in ‘Nam,” said Chip the former supply sergeant. “We came up with some workarounds.”

After they had gone the few yards to Grant’s cabin, Chip kept going down Over Road to the Morrell’s cabin where he stayed. He pointed back to the yellow cabin, shook his head, and said, “Kids.”

“Yep. Like we used to be,” Grant said. Chip just nodded and headed down the gravel road toward the Morrell’s and Grant started walking toward his cabin. For the first time all day, he realized how tired he was. What a day. Talking to dozens of people, organizing tons of things, and joining a Patriot guerilla unit. Could he be more tired?

He walked into the cabin and saw Cole and Manda getting ready for bed. Lisa was there and so were Drew and Eileen. There they were. His whole family. Safe and in one place. Happy and loving each other. Things were perfect.

And he had just pissed it all away.

He signed up to join a guerilla unit. Those wonderful, beautiful, and loving people in front of him…that’s what he was sacrificing. They would never approve of what he’d done. They would never understand. Lisa would kick him out of the house if she found out. He’d never see Manda’s wedding or Cole’s various milestones in life. He’d never grow old with Lisa. He’d never see a happy scene again like this with all of them together and warmly welcoming him.

“Lives, fortunes, and scared honor.” Grant remembered that phrase from the Declaration of Independence. Signing it meant the Loyalists would hunt the signers of the Declaration of Independence down if the Patriots didn’t win. So, by joining the Patriots, the signers were giving up their lives, fortune, and sacred honor.

Well, it’s my turn now, Grant thought. My life. That’s probably going to be sacrificed. My fortune. Yep. That had already happened; his house in Olympia was probably burned down by now. My sacred honor? That, too. Polite society, like his pre-Collapse friends, had been told he was a terrorist and a murderer. Many thought he had abandoned his family. Now there was a very good chance he would lose his family by leaving for war or maybe they would disown him. So he was sacrificing his life and everything in it, most importantly his family.

This was the second time he’d had these thoughts. The first time was when he left Olympia without his family. He went through the horrible emotions of thinking about life without his family. He worked through the mental process of saying, “I might be ‘abandoning’ my family, but here’s why I have to do it.” When he left Olympia, he had already realized that he needed to do certain things and that one of the sacrifices he needed to make was his family. He didn’t want to do it, but that’s why it was a sacrifice.

Today, when he signed up with the Patriots, was the second time he thought through the process of abandoning his family. This second time was actually harder than the first time. Grant thought it would be opposite—that it would be easier to come to these conclusions as time wore on because it was no longer a foreign concept.

But, the second time was definitely harder. Probably because he’d already gotten his family back once after he thought he lost them. Grant remembered hearing those car wheels on the gravel road the morning he got his family back. Seeing his wife’s Tahoe, and then seeing them get out and run up to him. He remembered realizing they wanted to be with him. He remembered being so happy he couldn’t speak. He’d gotten a second chance to be with them. To be a husband and father. A second chance.