Nathan smirked. It amused him that he was thinking the same thing. But in his mind, the statement was the town is mine—not ours.
“Listen up, men!” he yelled. “This world we’re living in has changed pretty dramatically. But the biggest changes are yet to come. The police have been de-mobilized by the lack of power. The National Guard has was called in, but they can’t be everywhere at once. That is why this outfit, this army of mine, is going to take over!”
They all shouted triumphantly.
Just as the leader was about to speak again, Gio cut him off. “That’s right, guys! We’re going to take over! And the most important thing to keep in mind is that we are the leaders, Nathan and me. So you’d better listen to us if you know what’s good for you!”
More ecstatic screams.
But Nathan didn’t like it. Once again, Gio was using words like we and us in ways that made him uneasy. Did he think of himself as the co-leader of the gang? A co-general of the army? He wasn’t. At best, he was a lieutenant. Second-in-command.
Worse yet, he hadn’t finished. “Nobody is allowed to move until we tell you! And that’s something you better all get once and for all, or you won’t be around long! Right, Nathan?”
His boss was unhappy and didn’t pretend to be otherwise. He saw this as an opportunity, a chance to make lemonade from the lemons life had given him. “Gio makes some very good points, guys, but I have to disagree a little with him.”
Gio turned, curious.
Nathan went on. “He says the most important thing to keep in mind is that we’re the leaders, the two of us. That is wrong. This is the most important thing to keep in mind.” He reached into his holster and yanked out the revolver he’d stashed away, aimed it at Gio’s head, and shot him.
His body jerked into a wild dance before lurching forward and dropping to the ground.
A collective gasp fell over the guys. Mouths fell open in disbelief. “The most important thing to keep in mind is that no one—not even my second-in-command—is indispensable. Anyone can be killed once they fail the group. And there is no more certain a way to fail the group than to think you share the group's power with me. Is that understood?”
He got a chorus of “yeah” in reply. Just what he needed to hear.
AFTER STEPPING INSIDE, they spotted the two VVs engaged in labor, one mopping the kitchen floor, the other constructing a shelf. Jess greeted them, a homesteader at her side along with Tami.
Within seconds, somebody had a question for Cecil. A tall, slender dude, clean-shaven, asked him, “We got any penicillin?”
Puzzled by the question, the leader wrinkled his brow. “Everything we have is in the medical bag. You know that.”
The guy turned to Jess. “I guess that means we don’t have any. What was that other thing we needed?”
Jess said, “Well, you could use some kind of antibiotics. I see lots of swollen lymph nodes around here.”
“What kind of illness does that suggest?” Cecil asked.
“Well, it can mean lots of things. Most likely a cold, but you may want to check for other things as well.”
“Darling, we’ve mostly made do with what we have. And so far, we’ve gotten by.”
Jess said nothing more as Cecil, her husband, and her son walked past. But Hatfield knew his wife well enough to know the matter wasn’t done—at least not in her mind. He figured she was being diplomatic, and for a good reason.
“Smells to me like we made it back just in time for dinner!” Cecil called. “I’m sure the Hatfields would be very happy to join us.”
They all gathered around the table and took seats. Hatfield noticed his daughter’s wrist was now in a cast and properly wrapped.
They said grace, Jess keeping her mouth shut about her preference for waiting until after the meal to do so.
Cecil said, “Dear Lord, thank you so very much for our guests of honor, the Hatfields. May he enjoy this meal as much as we have all enjoyed the teachings of his wise father, the good Sergeant Ernest Hatfield. Amen.”
When the lid off the centerpiece was lifted, it revealed two roasted chickens. In addition to the Hatfields and Cecil, there were five others at the table. Clad in vaguely military gear, they were in their late twenties, hard and lean.
Mouth full of roasted chicken, one of them asked, “How is it we never met this Mr. Hatfield?”
Hatfield mushed the awkwardness away with a grin. “I expect it’s because I’d moved away by the time you met.”
“But you never found out about this homestead being built, then completed?”
Unable to dodge any more, he said, “I was estranged from my family.”
“For how long?”
Then came the hardest words to say. “Until my father’s death. I corresponded with my mother after that.”
An uncomfortable silence hung over the table.
Cecil filled it. “Your father was a fine man. He oversaw the construction of our homestead and was very particular about its dimensions as well as its self-sufficiency.”
That put a smile on Hatfield’s face.
The leader then had a question for him. “Have you and your family given any thought to where you will head to after your meal?”
Hatfield’s face soured. It didn’t seem like a good sign that he asked that question. To him, it seemed the man was hinting that he and his family needed to pull up stakes and leave after dinner. He exchanged a glance with his wife, then flatly answered the question. “I’m afraid we haven’t.”
More uneasy silence followed. Jess tried to lighten things up by changing the subject. “So… how many live here in the homestead?”
“Twenty-seven altogether,” Cecil answered. “We don’t all eat dinner at once because the table wouldn’t seat us all.”
With a smile, Jess added, “I guess that’s why we don’t see our friends here—the good Samaritans that met us on the road out there.”
Tension creased Cecil’s face. He stroked his beard, searching for words. Clearly, a nerve had been struck. “That’s not entirely true.”
“What do you mean?” Hatfield asked.
The leader said, “We understand the immense gratitude you must feel for those individuals—they did, after all, help you out of an unpleasant situation—but the plain truth is that they violated the rules. And that simply cannot be tolerated.”
Hatfield watched his wife’s gaze fall to the table. He said, “That’s a little disappointing. I feel my father would have—”
Cecil lifted a hand. “With respect, your father is not here. I am the leader, and as such, I must make hard choices.”
Hatfield nodded. “I guess that’s why we’re being asked to leave as well.”
“I’m afraid so. We have great reverence for all your father did, but he made it very clear that the only way to maintain an environment like this is to restrict our resources only to those who are essential.”
Jess’s face grew sharp, perhaps with rage or maybe sadness. Her husband wasn’t sure, but he grunted. “We understand.”
“Well, frankly, I don’t understand, Captain Payne,” his wife said.
“Honey, what’s done is done,” Hatfield said. “Let’s just focus on plan B.”
“But didn’t your daddy will this place to you?” she asked.
Cecil answered for him, “I’m afraid not, Mrs. Hatfield. You see, at the time he made his will out, the Sergeant wasn’t sure if his son was living or dead. And he assumed the reason for his… let’s just say, early departure was unhappiness with the lifestyle of a survivalist. So it would have never occurred to him to will the property to your husband. Nor, to put matters bluntly, did it occur to him to make provisions in case he wanted to bring his family back to stay. Now out of the kindness of our hearts, we—”