“We’ve got bigger issues than those bozos,” Jeff continued. “Half of our own men are falling apart. I’ve got men pretending to be sick and staying in bed all day. I’ve got other men moping around barely doing their jobs. I have one guy who didn’t show up for drill yesterday because his dog got something in its eye. Yesterday, we were running react-to-contact drills in the forest, and we found Brad Townsend’s seventeen-year-old kid with his pistol in his mouth getting ready to blow his brains out. I’ve never had to deal with men suffering from a case of Blue Mondays like this before. Can somebody please fix this before I have to start shooting people for dereliction of duty?”
“They’re depressed,” Walter Ross interjected. “It’s a horrible world.”
“Of course they’re depressed,” Jeff fired back, “but I’m about fifty percent convinced that we’re being probed by a serious enemy force. If even one guy on perimeter duty misses someone sneaking across the line because he’s butt-hurt over God ordering up the Apocalypse, we’re all going to die.”
“What makes you think we’re being probed?” Walter Ross asked.
“That group of Hispanics we killed the other day. They had a couple of radios on them. And they weren’t using them to listen to AM 440 Mexican Radio.” The implication settled heavy on the group.
Jeff went on. “Morale is a serious issue. People have lost wars throughout history because men got in a funk. I’ll teach our men to defend this place, but you guys…” Jeff pointed his finger at everyone in the room, and his finger came to rest on Jason Ross, “you guys need to fix this problem. I need men who’ll do exactly what they’re told, no matter if their dog has something in its eye or not.”
Walter Ross spoke up first, “We’ll get on it.”
If anyone disagreed with Jeff, they weren’t saying it. The committee launched into solution mode. There were nine members plus spouses. Every committee member had an area of responsibility, but many of those areas, such as livestock, gardening or stored food, were non-critical at the moment. Right now, it would be all hands on deck. Whatever qualms the members had about Jeff’s warmongering were put aside for the time being, at least in the committee.
Rich Orton, the livestock guy, waded in. “I think we need to break out some booze. I know we’re hanging onto it for trade, but burned-out guys are probably more dangerous than drunk guys.”
“No way,” Jeff said. “Alcohol ain’t going to help.”
“Hear me out,” Rich fired back at Jeff. “The guys are worse off than you know. They’re talking a bunch of shit behind your back. They’re near their breaking point. Training, patrol and perimeter duty are exacting more of a toll than you know. You’re about to lose them. I’m hearing a lot of guys saying crap like, ‘I’d rather die than live like this.’”
“Fucking civilians…” Jeff was getting angrier by the second.
“We can fix this,” Rich recovered the conversation. “Just let me handle it. We’ll get them a little drunk tonight. We’ll play some music. We’ll eat some meat… I’ll kill a goat today and we’ll roast it up. We’re almost ready to supply hot water to the outdoor showers. Let’s bust out some shampoo and maybe even hand out some condoms. Nobody’s doing bam-bam in the ham. Did you know that? Everyone’s so jacked in the head, it’s like we’re living in a labor camp some days. We need to remind everyone what we’re fighting for, that life’s worth the stretch.”
“So, Jeff,” Jason interjected, “are these guys—the ones who’re dragging ass—are they going to come around? Are they going to pull it together eventually?”
“Most of them will, yes, if we aren’t killed first.”
The meeting ended soon thereafter. Jeff doubled back to Jason’s office. When he poked his head in the door, Jason was staring out the French doors, looking over the neighborhood.
“Jason,” Jeff interrupted. “Seriously. Between you and me, I didn’t have Masterson smoked.”
“I believe you,” Jason said.
“So did you order him shot?” Jeff asked the question and cocked his head. As unlikely as it seemed, he had to ask.
Jason looked straight in Jeff’s eyes. “No.” The pause lingered.
“Okay, then.” Jeff said, “I guess we can chalk it up to the gods of Olympus smiling upon us. I’m heading to check on Leif.”
Jason turned back to the window.
Holiday Inn
Rawlins, Wyoming
Chad held Samantha’s little hand so she wouldn’t trip down the rough-scrabble stairs of the Holiday Inn. It felt like holding on to the last bit of clean and pure in this jacked-up world. Chad knew he could live with this dirty feeling he was packing around inside. He had done it before. It hadn’t been the first pile of human bodies he’d seen.
Now that he had successfully raided the distribution center, his family supposedly had an airplane ride to Salt Lake. The price for four plane tickets had been seven human lives.
The deal he’d made with the devil had put Chad very close to making good on his promise to his father-in-law: to get Audrey and Sam to safety. For all he knew, Audrey’s dad, Robert, moldered somewhere in Omaha, dead and discarded by the onward slog of the vicious.
Ain’t that just like life: do something noble and get repaid with a shit sandwich. Well, at least Chad wasn’t buried in a shallow grave in the sand of Wyoming like those seven folks from the Walmart. At least he had won the contest, like always.
His little group looked like a family―Chad, Audrey and Samantha. To keep matters simple and civil, they had left it at that. Nobody needed to know that Audrey had divorced him.
The town of Rawlins served daily breakfast in the town square around the Carbon County Courthouse. Chad guessed the population of Rawlins fell just under ten thousand. Rock Springs numbered two-and-a-half times that, which might actually make it harder for Rock Springs to regroup and counter-attack. Once a city hit a certain number of souls, maintaining organization and civil order became impossible, the big town unable to feed everyone and maintain the peace. Say what you want about Mayor Spears, he had kept this town in one piece. By the look of things at the community breakfast, the town had marshaled resources and pulled together. If Chad had parachuted into the scene, he would have thought it was a town holiday.
His family needed to eat breakfast, otherwise Chad would have avoided the townspeople altogether. Picturing a bunch of people slapping him on the back for the Walmart massacre sent chills down his spine.
He needed to firm up plans with the mayor for his flight out. Hopefully, Mayor Spears hadn’t sold him a load of crap. That would be the height of stupidity, considering what he had hired Chad to do. Only a fool double-crossed a mercenary. Chad saw the mayor across the lawn and made a beeline for him. Along the way, he awkwardly took in a dozen back slaps and hoo-rahs. It made Chad want to climb out of his skin.
“The man of the hour.” Mayor Spears met Chad half-way across the lawn and shook his hand.
“Thank you,” Chad said. “I wish it’d gone down better than it did.”
“We won, didn’t we?”
“That depends on whether you wanted to start a war with Rock Springs. I’m afraid you’ve got one now.”
The mayor raised his red Solo cup of orange juice. “That is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. We need someone like you to help us defend our town and our food supply.”
Chad exhaled loudly. This was what he had dreaded. If Rawlins had been willing to screw Rock Springs, they could be willing to screw Chad Wade. “Mr. Mayor, are you able to fly us to Salt Lake City?”
“Of course. Of course we’re able. But I wanted you to take a day or two to think about my offer. You stay here and run the defense of our town―military training, building fortifications, and helping us keep the Walmart warehouse. In exchange, your family will be well-fed and protected. It’s a win-win deal.”