Holding Their Own VII: Phoenix Star (15 page)

After the convoy had passed, Mr. White refocused on Eris.
“Yes, you both performed well, but these are different times, a different place... we must adapt. I find myself in a position where our tradecraft is viewed from an unforeseen perspective, and I feel it worth reengaging your services to make sure there aren’t any breadcrumbs left behind.”

Eris clearly didn’t like it, but had to admit Mr. White was correct.
They had never operated on US soil before; rarely were American casualties required for any operation. The fact that Mr. White was even discussing the situation was astonishing to the operative.

“I want you and your partner to go to Memphis,” the spook continued, handing over the typical envelope. “
Your instructions, travel arrangements, and necessary documents are all included in the package.”

Eris nodded, “Yes, sir.”

Instead of walking away, Mr. White stayed put – a fact that rattled Eris even more. “You need to be aware that there are competing operations in progress. I’m talking about interference above and beyond any efforts by JAG or the military to investigate the occurrences in West Texas.”

Glancing around to make sure no one was nearby, Mr. White continued, “You are authorized to eliminate anyone interfering with your activities. Is that clear?”

This was most unusual, and Eris couldn’t answer right away. Side agreements were strictly forbidden. If the envelope didn’t spell out the operational parameters, he didn’t execute squat. “Sir, are those instructions clearly spelled out in here?” he asked, holding up the parcel.

“No, and I don’t want to hear
one morsel of shit about it!” White exploded. He inhaled deeply, gathering himself before continuing, his expression and voice becoming emotionless. “You’re bordering on insubordination young man. As I said, things have changed. This is a different time and place. We must adapt and overcome.”

Nodding, Eris mumbled, “Yes, sir.”

Mr. White looked the operative up and down, his eyes like ice, his voice colder. “Don’t let me down,” he hissed, and then pivoted abruptly and strolled off.

Alastair had been watching the exchange fro
m across the street. “What’s up?” he questioned after catching up with his partner.

Eris recounted the conversation, including the side orders and Mr. White’s odd behavior.

“This is another fine mess you’ve gotten me into,” Alastair teased.

Crawford, New Mexico

July 30

Terri found a comfortable spot to play with Hunter on the tailgate of the truck. She found herself constantly amazed at how quickly he was learning, every day bringing a new motor skill or cognitive development. The day was bright, but temperate, and a slight breeze made the pickup’s bed as good as any playground she could imagine.

She was so wrapped up in peek-a-boo that she didn’t notice the engine
sound until the source vehicle downshifted, the change in tone drawing her immediate attention. Playtime stopped, much to Hunter’s dismay.

Her first instinct was to pull
the baby tight to her chest, scanning their surroundings. Whatever had rolled into town hadn’t sounded that close – but still. After verifying no threat was imminent, she put the child in its papoose and grabbed her rifle.

“Bishop… Bishop, wake up. We’ve got company. I heard a motor,” she warned. Her husband must have been exhausted because he took far longer to roll out of the bunk than normal. Despite the need to rub the sleep from his eyes, he was up and moving
less than a minute later.

“What did you hear?” he asked as he pulled on
his armor and vest.

“It sounded like a truck of some sort. I think it was over toward the business district, but I can’t be sure.”

“I’ll go check it out.”

“I’m going with you,” she protested. “We already had this discussion once.”

Bishop shook his head, “What if Hunter cries at exactly the wrong time? This is different, Terri. We
know
there are people around now.”

“I’ll hang
back,” she countered. “I’ll only stay close enough to keep you in sight. That way, if things go badly, I can help… like all those other times.”

His wife’s reminder that she had saved his bacon more than once caused a grimace to flash across the Texan’s face. He hated it when she did that.

That leverage, plus the fog of sleep still affecting his reasoning caused him to agree.

“Okay, but stay back and under cover.”

“Gotcha,” she replied, kissing his cheek as he made to exit the camper.

While she waited for his footfalls to fade into the distance, Terri looked down at Hunter and smiled. “Come on, kid
do, I’ll teach you how to save your dad’s backside.”

Terri was right-handed
. Before leaving their temporary home, she made sure Hunter’s rig didn’t interfere with her shooting position. A spare mag of ammo fit snugly in one back pocket; her 9mm resided in its holster on her hip. She made sure Hunter didn’t need changing before reaching for the door’s handle.

Carrying a baby and a long gun posed a unique set of problems. Entering a potentially dangerous situation while caring for an infant wasn’t a natural act. As she rounded the mall’s corner, she tried to
reassure herself by thinking about her species’ history. What did the pioneer women do with their children when the Indians were attacking? What did the mothers of the Middle Ages do when the barbarians were at the walls of the castle?
They probably fought with the children on their hips
, she concluded.
They didn’t have any choice
.

She loved Hunter so much, always experiencing an overwhelming urge to protect her child. The dichotomy occurred when situations arose where it wasn’t black and white how best to ensure his safety. If something happened to Bishop, she and the child were screwed. If something happened to her, she thought Bishop had a better chance of surviving alone with the boy. If anything happened to Hunter, she didn’t know if she could carry on.

Yet somehow, it didn’t seem right to just run off and hide every time a threat appeared. She seriously considered taking her baby and moving away from the motor noise, finding some place to huddle quietly and shield her child.
That’s shortsighted
, she reasoned.
We all need each other to survive. We have to stick together.

“All for one… one for all,” she whispered to Hunter, amusing herself with the old television cliché. “That’s going to be our new creed. The more the world shits on us, the tighter our family will be.”

She couldn’t stalk like Bishop. Her recovering post-partum weight, the unbalanced Hunter, and her rifle prohibited graceful movement. She decided she would walk like a normal person, traveling back just far enough to keep an eye on her husband and staying behind cover wherever possible.

Her first stop was a utility pole in front of the mall. From there, she paused, watching Bishop as he scurried, crawled, ran
, and scrambled toward the business district. She had to admit the man was fast, moving with such determination and focus. It was like watching an athlete.

It was only a few blocks to downtown Crawford.
After giving Bishop a head start, she began walking down the sidewalk as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Her husband had instilled an important habit, however; Terri’s eyes were always looking for the closest place to hide if someone starting shooting. A flash of hesitation darted through her mind as she progressed down the street. She prayed her Kevlar vest would stop bullets from reaching Hunter, pausing for a moment at the thought. The fear passed, and she kept going.

Rounding a slight bend in the road, she detected movement in the street ahead, and it wasn’t Bishop. She cut hard left and ducked behind the church’s sign.

Peering around the stone frame, she identified an old school bus parked right in the middle of the main drag. It was painted a faded blue and looked to have been old even before the collapse. There was a string of people exiting the vehicle, a younger man standing next to the door and helping the passengers down the steps.

Terri raised her rifle, thankful Bishop had insisted she learn how to shoot with an optic. Making sure the safety was on before pointing the weapon at the new arrivals, she found the 4x magnification significantly improved her view.

“Crawford First Baptist Church,” she whispered, reading the lettering along the side of the bus. She then scanned the exiting throng.

If it weren’t for the two men standing guard on the edge of the crowd, the scene would have looked like any church bus unloading paris
hioners on a Sunday morning. Older ladies clutching their purses milled around, mixing with younger parents trying to keep their energetic children from straying too far.

The two sentries appeared to be the only ones worried about anything,
their sunglasses constantly scanning the area, trying to protect the group under their care. Terri couldn’t tell for sure what they were, but the rifles on their shoulders looked similar to Bishop’s military-style weapons.

“He’s even got me using that word now,” she whispered to Hunter. “Who cares if you say
‘gun’ instead of ‘weapon?’ Everyone knows what you mean.”

Terri then tried to locate Bishop, but couldn’t find him. She was sure he was close to the bus, but out of sight. “He’s studying them,” she informed Hunter. “I wonder what his move will be.”

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Over the murmur of the gathered congregation, Bishop’s voice rang out. “Hello there! Could anyone give me directions to the Crawford Chamber of Commerce?”

Terri almost giggled at the greeting, the humorous
remark stopped short by the guard’s reactions. Both men stepped forward, their weapons coming ready at their shoulders.

The man helping the passengers disembark reacted as well. Terri watched as he began waving his flock back to the cover of the bus. “Flock,” Terri observed. “He’s the minister
; he’s in charge.”

“I’m coming out now,” Bishop’s voice rang again. “I mean no harm and want no trouble. Please don’t shoot me.”

After giving the armed men a chance to digest his words, Bishop appeared around the corner of the post office, his weapon hanging loose and his arms in the air. She noticed he didn’t wander far from the structure.

The preacher moved forward, stepping between th
e now nervous security men. “Who are you, and what do you want?” the man demanded.

“I’m only traveling through,” responded Bishop without hesitation. “I arrived last night and needed to catch some sleep. Your bus’s motor woke me up.”

“Well then be on your way,” responded the gruff voice of the older guard. “You’re on private property, and travelers aren’t welcome here.”

Bishop took a step forward, the smile on his face obvious through Terri’s optic. So was the guard’s reaction to her husband’s move – his rifle adjusted to point directly at Bishop’s chest.
Terri surprised herself, centering her red dot on the man’s head. She flicked off her safety, but kept her finger away from the trigger. Her eyes squinted, zooming in on the man threatening her husband. She concentrated on his trigger finger, deciding she would kill him if it moved.

“Now that’s not friendly at all,” responded Bishop, halting his advance. “If I wanted trouble,
partner, I would have just cut you to pieces before showing myself. Are we going to play alpha-male games right from the get-go?”

“Dean,” hissed the preacher. “Settle down… he’s not done anything to us.”

The padre stepped between the menacing guard and Bishop, the move intentionally causing Dean to move his rifle off target. “My name is Boyd Pearson, I’m the minister hereabouts.”

“My name is Bishop,” came the calm reply. “My family and I are traveling from West Texas. We’re on our way to Utah.”

Boyd and the guards looked around. “Family?”

Bishop chuckled, “Yes, sir. I would guess my wife has you in her crosshairs about now. We’re as nervous as you folks, given the state of the world
.”

That statement caused Boyd to scan his surroundings, looking for the stranger’s family. The guards did the same, their weight moving to the balls of the feet, knuckles tightening on their rifles. Bishop studied the preacher, trying to judge the man’s reaction while facing danger.

Having given up on locating Terri, the minister looked at the two armed men and nodded. Both lowered their weapons, Dean slower than the other man. Returning his attention to Bishop, Boyd said, “You have my word as a man of God that we’ll not start anything, sir. It would probably help matters if we didn’t feel vulnerable, however.”

Bishop took a moment to ponder the man’s words. Terri knew her husband, the telltale tilt of his head an indication he was thinking it through. “Okay,” the Texan finally announced. Then, without taking his eyes from the two armed men, he raised his voice. “Terri, it’s
cool. You can come in.”

“Just like that?” Terri whispered to Hunter. “Just like that he wants me to walk into that situation? I think your dad’s getting soft in his old age, kid
do.”

Terri rose from behind
the sign and began casually strolling down the street. Despite the apparent truce, she never stopped looking for some place to hide.

As she got closer to the now curious onlookers, one of the women huddled next to the bus said, “She’s got a baby! A little baby! Look
how cute!”

Hunter broke the spell of distrust, the lad’s diplomatic abilities far exceeding his father’s. Despite the harsh looks from Dean and his co-sentry, three of the women began walking to greet the
approaching mother and child. Before long, there was a crowd gathered around the newborn. No one seemed to notice the AR15 hanging from Terri’s shoulder, nor the pistol on her hip.

Before Bishop could say a word, Hunter was out of his papoose and being snuggled by one of the gals, his mother busy answering
a flurry of questions. “How old is he? What’s his name? Where was he born?”

As
the women-folk were busy ogling the infant, the preacher approached Bishop and extended his hand. While the two men shook, he glanced back at the baby review and explained, “We’ve not had a newborn around for a long time. I can’t think of a better ice-breaker.”

“He invokes that re
sponse a lot,” Bishop teased. “That’s why I bring him along. He lets me handle his light work.”

Boyd looked at Bishop’s rifle and kit, a smirk crossing his face. “Somehow, I get the impression you handle a little more than
light
work.”

Ignorin
g the comment, Bishop indicated the town with a wave of his arm. “I’m dying of curiosity, Reverend. What the heck happened here?”

Grunting, the preacher answered. “We were running out of water. The town’s pumps were electric
, and when the electricity stopped working, they stopped pumping. We hooked up a backup generator for a bit, but then it became clear that our fuel supply was finite. Everyone came together and agreed it was time to lock up and move to Camp Pinion.”

“Camp Pinion?”

Grinning, the padre pointed toward a distant mountain. “The Boy Scouts of America built a summer camp up on that mountain a few years back. It sits of the shores of a nice lake, has some solar power and plenty of wood from the surrounding forest. We take a deer now and then, and there are plenty of rabbits around. The fish are delicious. We assigned the cabins and moved in.”