Holding Their Own: A Story of Survival (17 page)

Bishop turned to the other men and said, “Fin
d me something to cover her up with - hurry.”

He kept talking to her in a cal
m, steady tone and unhooked the canteen from his belt. He poured water on his hand and slowly rubbed some on her lips. She showed no reaction.

One of the men ran up with a sleeping bag
that he had scavenged from the van’s belongings, and Bishop covered her up. This seemed to affect her, and she stirred for a second.

Bishop considered the men and said, “This lady
is in shock. We have to get her out of here. Grab some of her clothes, and go get her purse up the street. We will carry her back with us. Stay where we can see each other all the time. Whoever did this might be back.”

Bishop ran to the back of the SUV and found two suitcases with wheels
, the kind people pull through airports. He had a length of Paracord, an extremely strong rope, in his kit and used it to tie the two suitcases together. Then, using his knife to cut rods from the two fishing poles still in the back of the SUV, tied them on for support. His creation reminded him of Rita’s gurney and that, of course, was its purpose.

He
carefully lifted the woman and carried her to the makeshift gurney. The group proceeded back to the neighborhood, pulling the victim and keeping an eye out for trouble.

As
they returned, a few of the neighbors who were outside dropped what they were doing and  came running to help. Bishop turned to one of the men and said, “I think we need to block the entrance to the neighborhood. I’m going to pull Terri’s car up on one side, but we need another car to completely block the street.”

“I got it
,” he replied and hurried toward his house to bring a second car.

Bi
shop explained how they had found the woman and a little bit about what she had most likely endured. A neighbor lady just shook her head. She walked over to the small crowd that had gathered, issuing orders for the victim to be moved inside. Bishop handed the neighbor the woman’s purse, and she quickly located the woman’s ID. “Her name is Brenda Mitchell. She is a R.N. Supervisor at Houston General,” she said.

Terri came running up and gave Bishop a big hug
. She had been waiting by the window for him to return.

“Are you
okay, Bishop?”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar. You are not,” she stated flatly. Something in his eyes made the hairs on her neck stand on end.

“Why did you ask if you already knew?”
he said way too sharply.

“Bishop?”

“Terri, I want you to start keeping your pistol on you all of the time - understand? And I mean
all
of the time. Don’t take a piss, don’t cook, and don’t even sleep without that pistol within reach. Please, Terri, I mean it.”

“
Okay, Bishop. Was it that bad, baby?”

“It was
that
fucking bad. I want you to go get your pistol. Then I want you to go up and down the street and knock on everyone’s door. We need to have a neighborhood meeting in the cul-de-sac at 7:00. It will have cooled off a little by then.”

Bishop checked on the victim and saw that she was being well taken care of
. The ladies got her to drink something, and her eyes appeared more focused.

Bishop then headed to the house for
Terri’s car keys. He had siphoned all of the gas out of her sedan for the generator but figured there was enough to get it the short distance to the entrance of the subdivision. He was right.

He then went to his garage
to retrieve the wheelbarrow. Of course the tire was flat because he never used it. But after working the hand air pump, he threw in a shovel and started toward Roger’s house. He picked up the lifeless body of the gas thief, dumped him in the wheelbarrow, and covered him back up. He turned around and started down the street toward an empty lot in the back of the neighborhood.

As he pu
shed the wheelbarrow down the road, he started thinking,
what a morbid sight I must be, something never before seen in this neighborhood, not even at Halloween.
He thought about shouting, “Bring out yer dead! Bring out yer dead!” like an old movie he had once seen. That thought, combined with the stress of the entire situation, made him laugh. The realization that he was pushing a body down the street and preparing to dig his first grave made him stop and wonder if he were losing it mentally.

Someone ye
lled, “Hey Bishop, hold up!” and he instinctively turned around to see who it was. A couple of the men were walking along behind him carrying shovels and some other items. “We’ll help,” one of them said grimly.

It took them almost three hours to dig the hole
. There had not been a serious rain in Houston for weeks, and the lot had been hard packed in preparation for building a house. They were all soaking with sweat and had sent for water twice. When the grave was about four feet deep, they had had enough and dropped the body inside. As they started to fill the hole, one of the men began to hammer and made a small cross out of scrap lumber. “What was his name?” he asked. Bishop had put the man’s wallet in the blanket before throwing the body in. “Just write ‘Looter,’” was all he said.

They had just finished when Bishop looked at his watch
. Entombing the body in the parched Texas earth had taken longer than he thought, and it was almost 7:00. As the burial detail meandered back, they could see a crowd had already gathered.
Damn
, thought Bishop
, no time to take a shower
.

Neighborhood meetings had become commonplace after
hurricanes. When the power was out for extended periods, everyone had seemed to naturally gather in the big, open cul-de-sac. Cookouts, social meetings and even the serving of a cold beer had occurred.

In the rare ci
rcumstance that the group had to solve a problem or make a decision, the tradition was for each household to speak for five minutes, in order by address number. Everyone knew this gathering was one of those meetings. At a little after seven, the first homeowner stood and cleared his throat.

Bishop and Terri lived at number 27, almost in the middle of the pack. As Bishop stood and listened to each speaker, he realized this meeting had been a bad idea. The speakers seemed to fall into two main groups, those who were convinced that everything would be back to normal soon, and those who had zero idea of what to do. Most people had enough food for the time being, and the water was still flowing. Almost everyone was worried about having enough gasoline for the generators, and two people were running low on critical medication.

Later, looking back, he realized he must have been quite a sight to see when it came his turn. He was still wearing his load gear and carrying his rifle
. He was soaking wet with sweat and had blood from the shooting victim on his shirt and vest. His ensemble was complete with a healthy coating of dirt from the afternoon’s grave digging session. 

When it was
their turn, Terri smiled as Bishop stood to address the group. His neighbors were gathered in a circle of lawn chairs, surrounded by tables covered with bottled water and an assortment of snack crackers. He passed her his rifle, cleared his throat and began to speak.

“I want to
begin by apologizing to you all for my appearance. It has been an
interesting
day. I want everyone to know what I believe we should do and why I think it is the right course to take. To begin with, I believe that local government has ceased to exist. On Cypress, a very main street, we found dead bodies this morning that had been there at least 10 hours. We haven’t received any mail for days. Has anyone seen a police car cruise the neighborhood recently? Has anyone heard a siren? A fire truck? An ambulance? “

Bishop looked around to see that everyone was either shaking the heads “no” or looking down at the ground. He continued:

“I believe we are on our own, at least for a while. None of us know what is really going on out there. I have been listening to the radio on and off for days trying to get news of the outside world. There is nothing on the air but marching band music. Here is what I suggest we do. First of all, we should take an inventory of anyone in the neighborhood that has medical training. We should set up our own little clinic right here on this street.”

Bishop heard some whispers and saw some heads nodding
in agreement.

“
We are in danger from looters and other predators. I recommend we establish our own neighborhood watch so that we have some security. Finally, I think we need some sort of organization, like a council. There will probably be a lot of very difficult decisions facing us in the coming weeks, and I don’t think it’s practical to vote on every issue. There are 49 homes on this street; I suggest each block of 10 addresses elect a representative. That would give us a council of five. Everyone should agree to abide by the decisions of the council. Lastly, I believe it would be a good idea for us to have a regular meeting here every night. Thank you.”

As soon as Bishop
sat down, everyone else started talking all at once. He sat next to Terri, and they held hands as he wondered how long she would be able to tolerate how badly he smelled. As if she could read his mind, she reached over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Most of the remaining speakers agreed with Bishop’s ideas, and a few had other thoughts to offer as well.

It was not long before it was completely da
rk, and the residents of the neighborhood were in their homes, revisiting the events of the day. Bishop told Terri he wanted to take a walk and check the neighborhood’s roadblock.

As he approached the two cars blocking the entrance, he noticed something was not right
. As he got closer, he smelled gasoline.
Fuck
, he thought, and pulled his night vision off of his vest.

Bishop had been a strong believer in Night Vision Devices, or NVD’s, since he had first used
them in the Army years ago. The security personnel at HBR were all issued their own monocles or goggles. Bishop had selected a monocle that he could either hold to his eye like a spyglass or mount on his rifle to be used with the regular optics.

He turned on the NVD and held it up to his eye
. The darkness suddenly turned into a green, alien landscape. He could see everything very clearly, and while Terri’s car appeared exactly as he had left it, the other vehicle had a growing dark spot under its gas tank. Someone had recently spiked the tank and taken the gas.

Bishop mounted the
little night vision scope on his rifle and raised it up to a ready position. He slowly moved around the cars, prepared for trouble. Being alone, his progress was very deliberate and methodical, as he scanned in circles so that no one could sneak up behind him. He worked his way around the cars and out onto the street. As he looked down Cypress both ways, movement caught his eye. He saw three men, all with rifles slung over their shoulders. They were carrying jugs and cans.

The
optic on the rifle gave him a pretty clear indication of their distance. They were just over 600 meters, or about seven football fields away. While he knew he could scare the hell out of them, the chances of hitting them at this distance were very low. He considered chasing after them for a second, but decided that was unwise. He wasn’t so worried about the three to one odds. He was more concerned about what else he might run into on the way there or the way back. Bishop decided he would send them a message and brought the rifle up to his shoulder. He elevated the crosshairs to about 60 inches above their heads to compensate for the bullet drop and was slowly squeezing the trigger when he heard a car engine behind him. He lowered the rifle and scrambled to some bushes at the side of the road.

He saw a light coming down Cypress, but it did
n’t appear to be headlights. The light would come on for a few seconds and then go off for a bit. Whatever it was, it was moving very slowly. Bishop brought the rifle up so he could look through the NVD. It did not take long before he could make out a pickup truck, and in the bed of the truck were several men. He could also see rifle barrels. The driver was not using his headlights for some reason. The men in the back had flashlights, and it looked like they were searching the sides of the road at the same time as trying to provide the driver enough light to steer the truck.

As it got closer, Bishop could see why they did not use the truck’s headlights – they had been shot out
. Through the night vision, he could see that the windshield and hood were full of bullet holes as well.
These boys have been busy
he thought. He backed further into the underbrush next to the road and went prone. He did
not
like this situation at all. There were at least six of them, and he had hardly any cover that would stop bullets. Besides the bad odds, Bishop did not want an encounter with these guys as they had already been in a fight or two and were not likely to run. He had decided to let them pass and hope they did not see him, when he heard one of them shout, “Hey! Look at that! Look at the pretty thing over there.”

Terri had gone looking for Bishop when he didn’t come back right away. She smelled the gasoline and heard a car engine and decided to see what was going on. She had just gone around the cars when a flashlight beam hit her directly in the eyes and caused her to look away.

The truck sped up and came right at Terri
. She started to take a step back and run, but realized she wasn’t going to make it and froze. The pickup braked and stopped about 20 feet from her, and she could see the outline of several men hopping over the sides of the bed. She reached toward her back pocket and remembered she did not have her pistol.
Oh hell
, she thought,
Bishop is going to be so pissed
.

Bishop
had a clear mental picture of what was happening before the truck ever stopped. He got up and moved out of the bushes as fast as he could. He was moving toward the truck as the men came pouring out of the bed. Bishop’s stomach knotted when he heard one of the men say, “I like this street. This one is prettier than the one last night. Let’s have some fun again!”

He knew if they got close to Terri
, he was going to have an even bigger problem. He raised the rifle to his shoulder and yelled, “Terri! GET DOWN! NOW!” Before his lips had finished his warning to her, his finger started pulling the trigger.

She heard a shout and
was startled for half a second as shots were being fired. She half-knelt, half-dived to the pavement and covered her ears.

Bishop had the advantage of
both night vision and surprise. His first and second shots hit two men directly in the chest, and both went down instantly. He did not have an angle on the others as the truck blocked his view. He dropped to a knee and started laying fire under the truck, hoping to skip the bullets into the men on the other side. He sensed, more than saw, another one fall. One guy managed to rise up over the bed and loosed two shots in Bishop’s general direction, but they were not close. Bishop saw the driver’s door open and a leg stick out. He put three shots into the door, and the driver slid to the ground. He was moving toward Terri, wanting to get between her and the truck. As he quickly walked toward her, he punched rounds into and around the truck. He was about four steps away from Terri when he heard his bolt lock open. He was empty. He hit the magazine drop button on the M4 and felt it fall out. He reached to his chest and pulled out a full magazine, but dropped it on the ground in haste. He reached for another and managed to slam it into his weapon, when one of the attackers rose up and let spray several shots. One of them hit Bishop in the chest. He remembered falling right on top of Terri, and then a small, black circle appeared in his vision. He couldn’t get his breath, and his brain would not control his body.

The
men were not sure if they had hit anyone, and it took them seconds to regroup and muster the courage to stick their heads up. Terri was jolted when Bishop fell on her. She didn’t know who it was at first, but then recognized his rifle. Her hand was right next to the pistol on his belt, and she unsnapped the holster and pulled it out. She kept whispering, “Bishop? Are you okay?” while trying to watch for the men shooting at them. She rolled him off of her and felt him breathing. Her hands ran up and down his body in the dark, feeling for blood. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and the outline of one of the attackers approaching. She flicked the safety off the pistol and pulled the trigger, but only heard a soft click.
What in the hell did he teach me to do
, she thought. She finally remembered and worked the slide on the big pistol. She pulled the trigger again, and it roared. She pulled the trigger three more times quickly.

The remaining attackers decided they had had enough
. They slowly backed away, then turned and ran.

When several men from the neighborhood finally came
to the rescue, Terri was still on the ground holding the pistol. She almost shot one of them by mistake. They helped Terri off the ground, and two of them picked up Bishop, who moaned and cursed when they grabbed him under the arms.

Bishop’s head started to clear
, and he found himself lying in the grass. There were all kinds of people standing around with flashlights shining on him. He felt his chest where the bullet had struck but didn’t feel any wound. Terri was beside him and held up his body armor with a bullet stuck in it. She said, “This saved you, but it hit you right in your bad ribs. I think you are going to be sore.”

“Are
those bastards gone?” he said weakly.

“Yes
. The men are down at the entrance checking around. It’s going to be okay. You saved me.”

“Where the hell was your pistol
, Terri?” he said, before closing his eyes.

He was having dreams of being u
nder a waterfall, the cold water felt great. He woke up in his bed and tried to sit up. His ribs protested, and he decided that could wait.

Terri came into the bedroom with a cup of coffee. She sat it down beside him and just smiled
. He looked at her belt and noticed she had her pistol tucked inside it. That made him smile. He then felt down his body and confirmed he was naked. He smelled his armpits and realized he was squeaky clean. “How did I…” he started. Terri interrupted him, “Cindy and a couple of the women helped me clean you up. We wanted to check that you were not hurt anywhere. You smelled awful, Bishop. All the girls thought so.”

“Great. The first time I get naked with more than one
woman, I can’t remember it; and I stunk to high heaven. That’s just great.”

“Don’t worry
, hun. We had plenty of fun without you.”

Bishop just moaned and rolled his eyes
.