“How much?” Bennington asked.
“How much a gallon?” Rich responded.
“For cash? Probably $100 a gallon. I’ll go see.” Bennington got out of the truck and talked to the Mexican man running the station. Bennington came back.
“Yep. $100 a gallon,” Bennington said.
Rich got out Drew’s envelope of cash. He pulled out $1,000. He counted it out to Bennington.
“Ten gallons for this gentlemen,” Bennington said to the Mexican man.
Rich started to get out of the truck to get the gas cans and pump the gas. Bennington stopped him and said, “Nope. No self-service. We’d hate for people to ‘accidently’ put in more gas than they paid for. Not worth dying just because you put in an extra gallon, know what I mean?”
It wasn’t like Bennington to talk like that, Rich thought. It didn’t seem natural for a decent guy like Bennington to say such a thing.
The Mexican man put in ten gallons. Both gas cans were full. Bennington smiled at Rich. That was the Bennington he knew. Not the “you’ll die if you put in an extra gallon” side of Bennington that Rich just witnessed.
Rich liked Bennington and also knew that he needed to get along with him for the sake of the people at Pierce Point, so he decided to keep talking to him, even though Bennington didn’t seem very chatty today.
“We’ll be back soon with the FCard forms and start shopping in town,” Rich said to Bennington.
“Yep,” Bennington said. “We’ll take you back to the city limits and get you the forms.”
The trip back to the city limits was uneventful. When they got back to the city-limits roadblock, Bennington returned to his car. He checked the trunk. The ARs, magazines, and case of ammunition were still in the back. Bennington was never concerned that his truck would get robbed while he went into town with Rich. All the Blue Ribbon Boys and even the FC knew that stealing from Bennington—and ultimately from Commissioner Winters—would be a very bad idea.
One of the FC handed Rich a stack of FCard forms to take back and fill out.
“How many are there?” Rich asked.
The FC shrugged. “Dunno,” he said. “Enough. Fill these out, and if you need more, come back.” The government had no idea whatsoever who had FCards and didn’t really care.
After all the horror of the trip into town, Rich was exhausted and didn’t feel like talking, but he thought he needed to say something to Bennington as they departed.
“Hey, man, thanks for everything,” he said.
Bennington nodded. He didn’t say anything. He was deep in thought about the biggest decision of his life. One that very likely would cost him his life. Bennington had decided to go through with his plan. And hopefully Rich would be part of it.
Chapter 136
It’s Not Just Guns and Gardening
(May 14)
Rich was still exhausted, mentally and emotionally, from the trip into town. So was Cindy; she just looked out the window. She had stopped crying and she just felt cold and dark.
On the way back, Rich kept thinking about the graffiti that said, “I miss America.” He couldn’t stop thinking about how that summed up everything. Everything.
Ryan was also deep in thought. After a while, he couldn’t take the silence and had to say something. “Did you catch all that?” he asked Pow in the back of the truck.
“All of what?” Pow asked.
“The guards, the layout, the locations. All of that,” Ryan said.
Pow was relieved that Ryan had been thinking the same thing he had. Pow didn’t want to admit that he had been thinking for some time now that surviving in Pierce Point was great, but they should be ready to hit back at anyone hitting them. Pow had gone from thinking purely defensively to offensively. The two were related in this situation.
“Roger that, brother,” Pow said. “Roger that.”
Ryan smiled. These UCG—“untrained civilian goofballs” as the Team called themselves—were pretty good at this, despite a lack of formal training.
Ryan fished out two small notepads and pens from his kit. He handed one to Pow.
“Here,” Ryan said. “Write things down now, while they’re fresh. Draw maps. Put it all down.” It was a little too bumpy in the back of the truck to write, but Pow started jotting down the important points he’d follow up on later, when the truck stopped.
“Thanks,” Pow said. This was a lot more than shooting on the range with his buddies. This was sketching out maps of enemy facilities. This was getting bigger.
When they were a half mile from the Pierce Point gate, Heidi Copeland, the “comm chick,” heard a crackle on the CB set to channel 11.
It was followed by a whispered voice on her CB. “Company. Rich truck. No one following,” said the voice. It was Sniper Mike somewhere out there in the woods.
Heidi replied, “Copy,” meaning she understood the message. She didn’t talk much to Sniper Mike, just acknowledged receipt of his messages. Mike had his volume turned down all the way, but still there was no need to send out lots of sound from Mike’s radio. She would hate for him to get caught because of her.
Heidi radioed Dan on the daily use channel, which was 27 that day. They rotated it each day. “Fred One return,” she said into the CB.
“Roger,” said Dan. “Fred One” was Rich’s radio call sign. They just made up “Fred One” for Rich. Dan consciously didn’t want to get “too military” with call signs like “Eagle One” or “Alpha One.” It seemed overly dramatic for what they were doing out there, which was just surviving. Dan knew that the guards and Team would be taken a lot more seriously by the residents if they kept it simple and low-key instead of “playing Army.”
That being said, there was plenty of military structure out for the guards, the Team, and beach patrol. There had to be. They had to maintain discipline and be effective. But it would be easy to overdo it if they weren’t careful. Remember, Dan kept telling himself and the others, we’re just here to get through this. We are not a military unit and we’re not trying to be. Guarding your neighborhood is just temporary until things return to normal. “Winning” at this means there is no longer a need for guards. Or radio code names.
Rich came up to the gate. He waved and a guard ran up to open the gate. Rich pulled into the volunteer fire station.
He looked at his watch. It was 12:15 p.m. He was hungry and Mrs. Roth’s funeral was at 2:00 pm, but it was time to get some work done. He had to brief Dan and Grant on what had just happened. He asked Heidi to get Dan, Grant and the rest of the Team there.
Cindy was still sitting in the cab of the truck. She didn’t want to get out. She was frozen.
“You OK?” Rich asked her.
“Oh. Huh? Oh, yeah,” she said. She had been zoning out so hard that she was nearly in a trance. She had been thinking so hard about all that had happened and the nearly empty hospital. The diapers in the parking lot. Little Tony. She needed to snap out of it and get to work.
“We’ll get you and the new supplies up to the Grange,” Rich said to Cindy. She nodded.
Rich realized that Cindy knew some things that shouldn’t spread around Pierce Point. Like the fake fifty Marines and dozen contractors, and the awful conditions in town.
“Cindy,” Rich said to her in the privacy of the truck cab, “you saw and heard a lot of things in town that can’t get spread around. Please don’t talk about them.”
Cindy nodded. She seemed to have snapped out of her trance and was listening.
Rich went over all the things Cindy shouldn’t talk about. The bribe, the five squads of Marines, the corruption, and the lack of a real hospital. “We don’t want people in here to lose hope. Highlight the positive. We’re going to fill out FCards, that kind of thing. They…”