“What’s the plan for everyone? How do you plan on getting all of them back?” Lynn asks as I try to work the rest of the kinks out of my back.
“With those,” I answer pointing to the yellow school buses in the lot.
“Those’ll work,” she replies. I have everyone assemble in the parking lot. Gathered together, there are a lot more than I noticed last night.
“Listen up, everyone,” I shout above the heads. “We’ll be leaving here soon and everyone is welcome to come with us. We have a place set up in the old Cabela’s just north of Olympia. We’ll be using the school buses for transport and load up as soon as the others arrive.”
“What about our stuff?” One voice calls out from the crowd.
“Yeah, will you be heading to our places to pick up our things?” Another asks.
“No, we won’t be heading to each individual place to pick up belongings. We have what you need back at our base,” I shout answering. This creates a ruckus and various murmurings amongst the crowd.
“We should be able to go get our belongings and personal stuff,” one voice rises. Other voices say much the same thing but this is only from a few. The others in the lot are mostly quiet but I see a few nods of agreement with others shaking their heads.
“Look, we can’t risk going into darkened buildings. The risk of running into night runners is too great and…” I start to say.
“You can’t stop us from going,” a voice loudly interrupts.
“I’m sorry, did the middle of my sentence interrupt the beginning of yours? In answer, I wouldn’t dream of stopping you. You are free to go your own way and do whatever you will. If you want to go get your stuff, it will be without our help. Sorry, but that’s the way it is. I’m not going to risk any of us going into dark structures. Feel free to do so if you want but I wouldn’t highly recommend it. Those of you who want to go with us, be ready to board the buses when the others arrive,” I say.
Silence descends for a moment as they digest this information. Then various murmurings occur. Some words of ‘this is ridiculous’ and ‘I thought they were here to help’ rise above the background noise. These are only some as I do hear many others voicing thanks and gratitude.
“Stop it. These folks have come and helped us and all you can do is bicker. If your stuff is that important to you, then go get it and don’t take these people’s hospitality. But at least thank them for giving you the freedom to voice your bickering’s. Seems to me you were a lot worse off yesterday. Go if you want, stay if you want but it seems to me you’d all be fools not to go along,” one voice shouts above the rest. This quiets the crowd and I look over to see Bob, standing with his hands on his hips, nodding after having said his piece.
The crowd quiets again. “Those who go will be expected to do his or her fair share of work and we have a basic training program which everyone is required to go through but anyone and everyone is free to go whenever they want. We don’t hold anyone against their will but there are rules to follow. I’m just saying because I want to be up front from the very get-go. But we do have food and shelter,” I say into the quiet.
“Those of you staying with us, please stay here in the parking lot. Those of you who want to head out on your own, well, I wish you the best of luck,” I add.
Most stay but there are a few who head out on their own. One apparent family heads off with the wife pleading and pointing in our direction. The man just shakes his head and plods steadily on. The little boy trailing behind looks back at us once and turns to catch up with his parents.
“Shouldn’t we do something?” Bri asks.
“What can we do, hon? We can’t force them to stay,” I answer.
I see Bob heading across the parking lot towards the family and pleading wife. He catches up and I see he is trying to talk them out of leaving. At least that is what it looks like to me. He is talking to the younger man, pointing at the woman and child and back in our direction. The voice of Bob and the younger man rise but the individual words are indistinguishable. It’s pretty obvious an argument of some sort is taking place. The scene has drawn the attention of the entire crowd.
The woman appears to be pleading but the man is not paying any attention to her and is intent on arguing with Bob. Bob yells, points to the woman, and back to the crowd. The man shakes his head and yells back. It’s pretty obvious the situation is getting a little out of hand but it’s just an argument. It’s not like it’s two gunfighters about to draw on each other. I begin to edge in that direction to try and simmer them down.
The woman sweeps her son behind her in a protective nature. With a last shout, Bob grabs the woman protectively about the shoulders and begins walking back with her and the child. The man reaches behind him and whips out a handgun. The crowd witnessing this altercation uniformly gasps. I stop and do a double-take not knowing how in the hell this man has a gun after being held captive.
He draws the gun up and fires. The resounding crack of the gunshot echoes across the parking lot. A pink mist forms in front of Bob. His head is thrust forward and he staggers a step, another, and then falls to the ground. The woman screams which rises above several other screams from the crowd. She looks down at Bob in shock and then back to her husband who is standing with the gun in his hand; a small wisp of smoke still streaming out of the barrel. He lowers his gun and shouts at her but the words are lost again.
She lets go of an agonizing scream, runs back to the man, and begins pummeling him on the arms and chest. The young boy just stands where his mother left him and stares at the body on the ground. The man tries to ward off her blows and finally shoves her away. She staggers back and turns toward her son.
“Say the word, sir,” I hear Gonzalez say by my side.
I look down and see her kneeling on the pavement sighting down a 110. Her, McCafferty, Henderson, Denton, and the rest of Black are also kneeling with their weapons trained on the man. I am standing with my red dot centered over his body. The man shouts again but she ignores whatever is said. I flip to the 4x setting on my scope and can see the uncertainty on his face. I have the feeling he is deciding whether to force them to go along or just head out on his own. Uncertainty while holding a gun is never a good thing. Anything can happen in that situation. He takes a step toward the woman.
“Drop the gun,” I shout.
I’m not certain he can hear what I said as I couldn’t hear any of his shouting words but he definitely hears the yell and looks our direction. He stops. Apparently seeing ten armed soldiers with weapons trained on him halts any notion he might have of going to the woman. Again that uncertain look materializes. With her son by her side, the woman stops and kneels next to the unmoving body of Bob. A resolute look comes over the man’s face and he takes another step towards his apparent wife and child. I seriously can’t believe we are in this situation and it boggles my mind that we are. It’s so out of the blue but here it is nonetheless.
“Gonzalez, one round on the ground in front of him if you would, please,” I say.
The loud clap of a 7.62mm round leaving the barrel fills the parking lot startling the gathered crowd. The echo of the shot covers the loud intakes of breath from many of them. A spark flares off the pavement of the entrance road just inches in front of the man’s foot as the round strikes hard and ricochets off into the distance. He may not be able to hear our words but there is no mistaking the communication we have just sent. The man jumps from the impact and the whining of the round as it is off to find another target.