Fire From the Sky: Hostile Fire Read online

  “Yeah, actually, I could,” Darrell nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. “I can't do everything out of them, but there is a lot of stuff I could make from that kind of steel. Leaf springs aren't tool steel, but they are usually quality material for the most part.”

  “Awesome,” Deuce nodded, writing furiously. “We've got an interstate full of cars that won't ever move from where they are under their own power. For that matter, we've got a small park of trucks over on the western edge of the ranch that we've had to move after we've been attacked. There would be springs and sheet metal and what not on them we could use. Well. . .can you use stuff like truck fenders, if they're steel and not fiberglass?”

  “Sure,” Darrell nodded. “Older model trucks had more steel in them than the newer cars do. I should go check them out.”

  “I'll get you some help,” Deuce promised. “You don't need to go alone. Probably not all that safe, not to mention it will be snakey. Give me thirty minutes and I'll see what I can do.”

  -

  “Well, it's not easy by any means, but it's fairly simple and straightforward,” Jake Sidell replied, looking down at Deuce. “What do you want it for?”

  “We can use that steel to make tools, Darrell Goodrum said,” Deuce told him. “He says it's usually pretty good steel.”

  “Well, yeah,” Jake nodded slowly. “It is, actually, now that I think on it. And thick, too. There would be a lot that could be done with that. Good idea, kiddo,” he ruffled Deuce's hair. Mostly because he knew the kid hated it.

  “Stop, man,” Deuce ducked out from under Jake's massive paw. “I'll ask Uncle Clay to cut loose a couple more guys to go with you and Darrell and you guys see what you can do. We're supposed to be building down like this while all our gear is still working.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Jake nodded. “I'll gather up a few tools we'll need and wait here. Remind Clay we'll need a truck to haul our plunder in.”

  -

  “Meecham's, huh?” Clay mused. He had already sent Titus Terry and Kade Ramsey to assist Jake and Darrell. “That's about the same distance as going to Sam's place,” he estimated.

  “Give or take, I guess,” Deuce nodded in agreement. “But it's right on the interstate, too,” he added.

  “Is he any kin to Gary Meecham?” Clay asked, thinking of their resident gunsmith.

  “Uh. . .I dunno,” Deuce had to admit. “I honestly didn't think of that, either,” he added.

  “No one can think of everything, kid,” Clay smiled at him. “Not even you guys. You do more than enough, though. I promise. I can check on this.”

  “Cool. I'll start on something else, then.”

  -

  “My uncle,” Gary Meecham nodded at Clay's question a half-hour later. “Well, great uncle, really,” he added. “My dad's uncle. Why?”

  “Thinking about going to see if he has any stock left, and what he'd want to part with it,” Clay replied.

  “Well, I gotta warn you up front he is not the most sociable of people,” Gary frowned. “And he will squeeze a nickel until the buffalo burps, too. You can expect him to ask for whatever he thinks the market will bear if he actually has anything left.”

  “Well that doesn't sound like Leon at all,” Clay snorted, causing Gary to laugh out loud.

  “Yeah, those two are peas in a pod,” the gunsmith agreed. “Nowadays, though, money ain't really any good. I'd take some of that smoked beef, a case or two of canned veggies and maybe one of fruit, he loves peaches for example, and assuming that someone has Jessup's distillery running, take him a couple gallons of that. He was never a drunkard, but he does love a stiff drink.”

  “Sounds like a plan then,” Clay nodded, already going over the list of what he would need in his head.

  “Want me to go along?” Gary asked.

  “If you want to, sure,” Clay agreed at once. “Might help to see a friendly face, right?”

  “I doubt it,” Gary's voice was laced with humor. “Still, he might come nearer to being helpful if you have someone he knows with you.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Clem Pickett, newly appointed/elected/drafted mayor of Jordan township, or what remained of it anyway, examined his surroundings with both hope and trepidation. The hope sprang from the help they had received of late in the form of supplies, help in planting a crop for themselves, training for a new police force and for a pair of medical personnel that had received medical supplies to help in treating injured and sick within the town. After months of nothing, the help they had gotten in the last several weeks had seemed like a gift from heaven itself.

  The trepidation came from his firm belief that things simply could not continue to be so good as they had been in recent days. No trouble makers, no trouble at all in fact, and everyone cooperating in a way that hadn't happened since before the storm had taken out the power. He looked around him and saw people actually smiling. Granted it wasn't everyone, but it was still something. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anyone smile in this town. It was a strange thing to see anymore.

  He liked it.

  People in town were walking along together, talking and even laughing on occasion, also something he'd not seen since things went south. People still had the gaunt look of the hungry, that was true, but it wasn't as bad as it had been and was in fact improving steadily as fruit trees began to bloom along with various other wild plants. Older people like himself that knew what could safely be eaten and what couldn't had helped teach the younger generations what they could eat and what should be left alone, information that was in short supply in the 'modern' world.

  The supply of smoked beef coming from their 'friends' was helping as well. Pickett was certain as he could be that the Sanders family was responsible for that beef and likely for the canned vegetables and fruits that had accompanied it. There was more beef than anything else, which was not surprising since the Sanders would almost certainly have more meat to spare than anything else.

  There was still some minor grumbling in town, mostly due to the communal kitchen that had been established with the supplies given to them by their 'friends'. A few die-hard idiots were convinced that someone might get a spoonful more than they did and were determined not to let it happen, but for the most part the town had accepted the communal kitchen and the reasons for it without much grumbling after the first day. It would be a stretch to say everyone got plenty, but they did at least get enough. After weeks and months of almost nothing, 'enough' was more than welcome to ninety-nine percent of the town. The handful of grumblers were consistently shoved to the side by everyone else and now were watched carefully by the new 'constabulary' as they had begun calling themselves.

  All in all, things were miles and miles better than they had been just a month ago, Pickett decided. All that 'good' simply added to the unease that Pickett was feeling. He was all but certain that the other shoe was bound to drop, and when it did, he was moderately confident that it would land squarely on the town, if not him personally.

  He should never have allowed them to plant the 'mayor' title on him.

  Sighing at the inevitability of future problems, Pickett slowly made his way to his 'office' at the old city hall. Which was also the old everything else and now housed everything but the kitchen itself, which was in a small strip of buildings across an alley from the city hall building. As he drew nearer, he could see the line of people already gathered to lodge complaints with him about everything from the power being off to why they couldn't get some kind of grocery store opened. It seemed that a little taste of 'better' was all it took for some people to return to demanding things return to the way they had been. There were times he had to wonder at the intelligence level of many of his neighbors. Too many of them seemed to be having trouble grasping the concept that they were now living in a new 'normal', and the old ways weren't coming back. At least not in their lifetime.

  “And definitely not in mine,” Pickett grumbled aloud, leaning a little heavier on his cane t
han he normally did. “I am too old for this shit,” he shook his head. He looked at the line and had one more thought before he got within hearing distance.

  “At least if the other shoe did fall today, I wouldn't have to listen to all this whining.”

  After that came the whining.

  -

  “This is a patrol car left from the Sheriff's office from before the Storm,” Greg told Talia Gray and the other Constables gathered around the two marked cars. “While you can use it, I suggest you do so sparingly. Fuel is precious and when it's gone there won't be more that we know of. Maybe some shine or something of a similar nature, but I doubt we'll see more actual gasoline. If you want some advice, walk your patrols unless the weather is purely horrible. And slow rain isn't horrible.”

  “The equipment is pretty much the same as it was when I was using one, other than we've removed the first-aid bag and given it to your medics. You already have the shotguns and other equipment with you. This car has a working radio, however, and had two hand-held radios. This will improve your communications abilities quite a bit.”

  “Through other means,” Greg continued, “I have secured three more hand-held radios along with two chargers. We've brought you a small solar operation that will allow you to keep them charged, and I will go over the dos and don'ts of using the equipment in just a bit. But for now, just know that each patrol will be able to have a radio with them, and that your 'office' will be able to dispatch you with a radio we removed from an unmarked car and placed there.”

  “Communications are incredibly important in this line of work,” he told the assembled team. “You've seen how the lack of modern communications has affected ordinary everyday life, so you can imagine how much more that would apply to your new line of work. Being able to call for help, or to be called for that matter, can and often will be a matter of life or death. For you, for your partners, for the people you're trying to protect. Believe it or not, the radio is often the most important piece of equipment you have. Treat them well and try to protect them from damage. I honestly don't know if we can get any more of them, ever.”

  “Now that your training is almost complete, we're looking to open an office for you,” Sienna took over. “After speaking to your mayor, we decided to combine the Constabulary, good name by the way, and the medic services into one group. Since they are currently working on getting the fire apparatus working and putting together a working fire department, they will soon be added to the group as well, making one Emergency Services Department for the entire town. The fire department and EMS will probably each be given one of the hand held radios to allow them to communicate with your office and with you, leaving you guys with three. That is one per team even when you're doubling up, plus a spare. As Greg said, please do your best to protect them because it's doubtful we can ever replace them.”

  “Radio regulations will be very relaxed since we no longer have to worry about FCC rules, but I would suggest you memorize the codes we used with the SO simply because it allows you to communicate more clearly and more quickly,” Greg spoke again. “It's just easier, so long as you've sufficiently memorized the codes. If you have them down pat then you'll use them without hesitation when under pressure, and be able to interpret them when others do so.”

  “Mayor Pickett is looking for people to man your new office and serve as dispatchers,” Sienna added. “No idea who they will be, but I'm sure he'll find the best possible fit for you. Now that you're ready to start patrolling, it's also time for you to start looking out for people to recruit to your team. You will know people better than we do, and now you have an idea of what's needed to do the job. After speaking to the Mayor, we've settled on your force ultimately having as many as twenty members if that many can be found. Working in pairs, with at least two teams per shift, that can overlap so that normally there will be at least six people on duty at any given time. But remember,” she raised a hand with a finger pointing skyward, “that's in the future. Right now, it's just the eight of you. One pair working at the time, or perhaps pairs overlapping. That will have to be up to you to decide.”

  “You keep talking as if you won't be here,” Talia Gray said suddenly.

  “We won't be,” Greg nodded his agreement. “Our work is pretty much finished at this point. We will still be visiting every couple weeks to finish your technical training, but it will be up to you to keep up your PT and practice what we've taught you so far. We'll have other work to do in other places. Who knows? We might have a new Constabulary set up somewhere else soon. I don't know where we'll be next or what we'll be doing.”

  “But remember that we can hear your dispatcher's radio most of the time,” Sienna reminded them. “If you get into a real bind, we may be close enough to help out. That isn't certain and you shouldn't count on it, but it is possible. We'll always try and support you if we're close enough to do so in time. We're also responsible for our own security, though, so don't forget that.”

  “One last thing,” Greg told them. “You're going to have to decide on a rank structure among yourselves. Someone will need to be in charge with each patrolling pair and also someone in command overall. Ultimately your Mayor will be the authority figure, but he will need someone to head up the peace officers. Better for you guys to decide those things if you can so that you're comfortable with it. I will add this to all of you,” he cautioned. “Whoever you pick, give them your support, assuming they're willing to do it. Don't ask someone to take responsibility and then criticize them behind their backs. Not cool. And in no way fair. You guys ultimately have to depend on one another in this. You can't do that; can't build the trust you need in this kind of work if you're too busy back-stabbing one another.”

  “There's been enough of that.”

  “We also have a surprise for all of you,” Sienna smiled brightly at them. “Step back over to the bus and line up at the rear door. You may remember we asked all of you for your sizes the last time we were here? Well, we brought all of you two sets of the BDU uniforms we wear. This is a one time thing, mind you, since we won't ever have this gear again to give out, but you deserve it. Hopefully we'll have the same gear for new recruits, but don't promise it because we just don't have any way of knowing if we can deliver.”

  “For you guys, though, we did. Consider it a graduation present from us. Now head on over and grab your gear!”

  -

  “We need to lay on two operations in the next couple or three days,” Clay told Jose Juarez. “First is a work party over to the interstate to salvage materials from abandoned vehicles left there. Spring steel, metal fenders and so on. Darrell Goodrum and Jake Sidell will head that up, but we need two or three more for labor and we need at least three on security with enough firepower to cover them and let them get away if they come under attack.”

  “Okay,” Jose nodded, scratching a note to himself. “What's the other one?”

  “We need to make a road trip back up the highway toward where Sam lived,” Clay replied. “There's a small steel yard up there and we want to go and see if he has anything left, and if he does can he be traded out of it. That will need to be a stronger force and that also means that we need everyone else here on the ranch while that convoy is gone. We can't be spread too thin.”

  “True,” Jose nodded. “Lets plan to do that salvage tomorrow?” he asked. “I can set up the Guardian that Jake and Sienna have finished reworking to stand guard. Meanwhile I can put together a package for the trip to this steel yard. Figure one truck with the flatbed and two escorts?” he asked.

  “That should work. Figure three per escort vehicle and two in the truck. Ask Ellen if she wants to go, I guess, and Tandi can ride with her. Otherwise give it to Thatcher and send Laramie with him.”

  “Will do,” Jose promised. “I'll have it set up for day after tomorrow. Wait,” he paused, thinking. “What are you taking to trade for the steel? Do we need another vehicle for that? Hauling it on a flatbed might not be the best plan.”
r />   “Hadn't thought of that,” Clay had to admit. “It's Gary Meecham's uncle that owns the yard, and he's going along. He and I can drive a pickup truck with the goods in back. For that matter, we can take one of the trucks we've taken in battle and if we need to, we can leave it there as part of the trade. We won't unless we have to, but if it's one of those trucks, we won't miss it.”

  “Good plan,” Jose approved. “I'll set it up.”

  -

  “You're taking the Guardian along with Zach and Wilcox to guard a salvage operation tomorrow out on the interstate,” Jose told Kevin Bodee. “You guys are there to stand guard, not help out, so stay sharp and let the work crew do their thing.”

  “Who's in charge of the work crew?”

  “Big Jake and Darrell Goodrum will be running that,” Jose replied. “They're looking for usable metal from the cars out on the highway. Leaf springs, truck beds, fender wells and so on. Anything they can turn into tools. Might find some tires that ain't dry rotted, that sort of thing. Whatever they're doing, you guys remember that you're there to guard, not to work.”

  “Will do.”

  -

  “The work crew for tomorrow is set,” Clay told Jake later on. “Besides you and Darrell it will be Roddy Thatcher, Cliff Laramie, Seth Webb, Titus Terry, Kurtis Montana and Moses Brown.”

  “Ronny would be a better choice than Mister Brown,” Jake mentioned. “Ronny's at least ten years younger, and I know for a fact that he can tear down a car almost as fast as I can. I doubt Mister Brown has done much of that as a butcher. Not a complaint, just a suggestion.”

  “Not a bad one, though,” Clay said thoughtfully. “I'll see if he has anything going tomorrow. If not then I'll ask him to go along. But even if he goes, leave Brown on the list. Another pair of hands is always. . .handy,” he winced at how stupid that sounded.