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“Hate is such a strong word, Joel,” Mallory replied.

“You’re right, but in this case I don’t think it’s strong enough.” Joel said.  “He loathes you.  He despises you.  He wants nothing more than to destroy you and everything you stand for and have worked your entire life to build.  If he had the chance he would erase all trace…”

 “Fine.  How big a thorn in our side do you think he’s going to be in the long run?” Mallory asked Joel and Halstead as they walked back to their vehicles. Joel answered first, “Hard telling.  He’s so mad right now about being called out on the raid in general and having to eat crow and ask for the weapons back, I really don’t know.  He seems the type to hold a grudge though.  It looks like he’s developed a tic on the right side of his face, too.  I don’t know if that’s new or not but it was really getting bad the more worked up he got without actively letting it show.”

“I noticed that too,” Halstead said as they got to the LAV they were using as their transport for the day.  He held the door for Mallory as Joel went around to the other side and climbed in.

“Well, done is done.  I’m not going to worry about it overly since I can’t do too much about it and he needed to be called out on everything I brought up.” Mallory was unapologetic.

“I’m not saying you were wrong, I’m just saying the situation isn’t any better today than it was yesterday and it might be worse.  The man really seems to have it in for you at this point and now it’s personal.”  Joel wasn’t sure what point he was trying to make or who he was trying to convince but he felt he needed to drive it home.

“He’s been made to look bad in front of some of his people, regardless of the reason.  He’s lost eight adults and will have to deal with a grieving mother, again, regardless of the reason.  He doesn’t know what your motivations are and doesn’t trust you--possibly because he’s not the trusting sort, but maybe just because his situation is preventing it.”

Mallory made the ‘who knows’ gesture and reached for a headset.  “I think it’s more a combination of a lack of honor among thieves and the fact that he never learned to keep his friends close but his enemies closer.  He also needs to quit wearing his heart on his sleeve.  Let’s see, anymore lame clichés I could throw in while I’m at it?”

“We need to make sure everyone’s ready to head out.  I don’t want to have guests any longer than necessary.”  Halstead said, ignoring that last remark.  “They know where they’re going and, assuming we can round up a lockbox in short order, I say we feed ‘em one more time and show ‘em the door.”

“That was pretty much my thought.  I’m not sending them back without warning, though, and if we can’t get back in touch with Mr. Baxter and Co. today before dark then it will have to wait until tomorrow.” Mallory was getting ready to call the base but held off for one more comment.  “In fact, I’d be surprised at this point if we don’t end up keeping them one more day after all.  Clint would probably just as soon have us feed them all three more meals before he took them back.”

“Bastard.” Joel muttered.

“Possibly, but at this point I think it hardly matters.”

…

“Sergeant Wilson, is your squad ready to move out?” Sergeant Jackson asked.

“Yes, Sergeant.  We have the combination for the ammo cans.  We’ll be providing directions and changing channels randomly to minimize the chance of being intercepted prior to dropping off the detainees.” Wilson said.

“Very good.  Don’t make a day of it but I don’t plan on seeing you before lunch either.”

The drive and drop-off were uneventful and when the time came to part company, Earl was even sincere in his gratitude.

“Sergeant Wilson, thank you for the treatment we’ve received while at your base.  I understand that Clint and your First Sergeant aren’t seeing eye-to-eye on most things right now, and I really don’t know how bad it is between them.  I hope things don’t get worse between us.”  Earl held out his hand and shook Wilson’s.  “Thank you for giving us a chance and not just opening up on us.  I’m sorry for the nine folks that didn’t take you up on it, and I really do hope that the one who got hit recovers.”

“Thank you for that, Mr. Hanson, and you saved a lot of lives when you got everyone to put the guns down,” Wilson replied.  “I hope we can keep it to a slow simmer for a while and let everyone cool off.  I’d like to be able to give you the combination for the canisters now but orders are orders.  We won’t be too far away to protect you though if something goes wrong, that’s why we’re dropping off here and heading out in the direction we are.”

With a final nod, Sergeant Wilson turned and trotted back to his Humvee and once they were a safe distance away they radioed the combination to the ammo cans.  They watched through field glasses as the rifles and pistols were loaded and then the trucks and SUVs headed home.

Chapter Thirty-One

This was the second “meet and greet” Sheri had been involved in, but it didn’t feel anything like the last one, and didn’t sound like any she’d heard the others talk about either.  It just felt…odd.  There were a total of six people from the group that had broadcast a request to join up with the Promised Land group, four men and two women.  The mix was pretty standard and the location, typical.

When the call came in over the CB or shortwave--usually CB--a site was agreed upon that was flat and open.  In addition, the group hoping to join would arrive first; the number of representatives no more than six and armed with nothing more than handguns in holsters.  They would already be away from their vehicles and standing.

When the ambassadors for Promised Land’s group arrived, in this case Sergeant Keeler and Sheri, they reconed the area and determined if it was safe to proceed.  There had been a couple of times where things looked odd but had turned out to be just fine.  In this case, things looked ok so they parked the Humvee, got out, and walked to meet the group.

That’s where normal took its leave and things started feeling really odd.  They had been there for a little over  half an hour so far; Keeler had checked in twice, and the women hadn’t said a single word after the greetings.  The majority of the talking had been done by two of the men, neither of them the older of the four present.  They didn’t have radios to relay any information back and forth with anyone else, but they acted as though they didn’t have any authority to make any decisions on their own.

Decidedly odd.

“We have a number of the homes in the town with electricity already.  Not everyone is going to want to move if they aren’t going to have electricity where they are going.  What guarantees will we have that we won’t be going from what is, admittedly, not an ideal situation to a potentially worse situation?” One of the spokesmen asked.

Sheri was getting frustrated and a little pissed off at this point.  It looked like this group was here just to get information out of Keeler and Sheri and not actually planning for a joining of their two groups.  “I’m a little confused by your question, frankly.  You are the one who requested this meeting initially about the possibility of joining up with us.  We aren’t asking you to move in and we aren’t forcing you to do anything.  We wouldn’t expect anyone to move from a better situation to a worse one, that’s absurd.  But we’re not providing guarantees either.  What guarantee do you have that whatever power source you are using isn’t going to dry up or go away?  What guarantee do you have that you won’t become prey to some crazy, power hungry, tin dictator wanna-be?”  Did he just flinch?  Interesting, I wonder if Keeler saw that.

“But we aren’t just letting everyone in either,” Keeler interjected.  “People, groups, have to have something to offer, as we’ve said, and we don’t mean money or possessions, we mean skills.  It may sound cold but we don’t have spare food, clothing, or shelter for people who won’t contribute.  I didn’t say can’t, I said won’t.  We’ve come across a couple of groups with folks who were in a really bad way, and we didn’t turn them away, and nobody’s complained.  But we aren’t going to take in a band of people who feel entitled to what we have but aren’t willing to contribute to the community as a whole.

“What you’ve given us over the course of the last forty minutes is absolutely nothing.  You’ve asked us questions, which we’ve answered, and dodged answers to our questions in return.  If you are looking for guarantees, the only guarantees we can offer are the following; security, a place to sleep, food to eat, clean hot water, and a lot of work every day to ensure that the previous four things continue to exist.”

“I think we’re probably done here.  It doesn’t look as though you are actually in a position to make a decision, or at least not a binding one, so I suggest that you go back to those who can, discuss it, and contact us again so that we can do this again right.”

Sheri was in awe at the dressing down she’d just witnessed.  It wasn’t really what Keeler had said, but how he’d said it, and the fact that he’d brooked no resistance.  Twice the other group had tried to interrupt and he’d just run right over them.  He was done, and he’d let them have it.  They looked at each other for a few seconds, and then one of them said, “Thank you for your time, we’ll probably be in touch.”  He held out his hand, and then everyone shook hands and said goodbye.  Less than a minute later, they were driving away in their SUV and pickup truck.

“What a freaking waste of time,” Sheri spat, “and after the last one went so well!”

“They can’t all go well.  After all, I’m in the Army ma’am, if everyone joins us, I won’t have anyone to shoot at.”

“That, Sergeant Keeler, is a very jaded view of life.”

“The world, Ms. Hines, is a very jaded place in which to live.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had the experiences in life that make you feel that way, I really am.”

They were on their way back to the Humvee, and passing as close as they would be to the trees.

…

Pete wasn’t a hunter, not really, much as he’d tried.  There were, however, a few things he was really good at other than electrical engineering and baseball happened to be one of them.  In fact, he’d been pitching since he was nine years old.  He’d decided to watch the meeting from a distance, just to see how it went, and that turned out to be a very good thing when Sheri had shown up.  It would not have done at all to let them know that he was involved with this group, not at all.

As they were walking back to their Humvee, Pete made a snap decision.  He bent down and picked up a rock about the size of small apple.  Keeler turned his back on Pete to open the door, and Pete pitched a breaking fastball at the back of Keeler’s head.  Between the distance and how hard he’d thrown it he was sure he hadn’t killed Keeler, but he was gonna be out for a while, and pissed when we woke up…not to mention sore.  He may have a concussion, and possibly a fractured skull--oh well.

As Keeler crumpled to the ground, Pete watched Sheri run around the Humvee to Keeler’s side.  Good, she didn’t use the radio right away.  That’s the problem with playing things by ear; you don’t get a chance to think things through.  If she’d called for help he might not have a chance to get away.  He had no idea how far away backup was, assuming there was any.

Sheri was engrossed in checking Keeler for obvious wounds, apparently wondering if he’d been shot by a silenced rifle, so Pete made his move.  He was about ten feet behind her when Keeler’s radio came to life.

“Tango Two this is Papa Two do you copy, over?” the voice on the other end asked.

Sheri just looked at the radio on Keeler’s belt for the five seconds between the first transmission and the second.  Pete kept moving the entire time, slower now that her focus wasn’t as complete as before.

“Tango Two this is Papa Two do you copy, over?” the voice repeated.

Sheri apparently didn’t want to use Keeler’s radio for some reason, so she reached for the radio at her own belt.  Pete reached her just as she pulled the radio free and finished standing up.

…

Sheri felt the press of cold metal against the skin behind her right ear and heard a familiar voice, “Put the radio down, Sheri.”

In a fit of inspiration, she squeezed the transmit lock button as she slowly bent down to put the radio on the ground.  The entire time the gun--she was sure that’s what it was now--never moved.  “What now, Pete, or should I say ‘Peter the Great’?”

“I’m pretty sure I heard quotation marks there, Sheri, not a good start.”  The gun moved away and Sheri relaxed, that’s when he hit her on the back of the head.  Not hard enough to knock her out, but hard enough to make her see stars and drop her to her knees.  “Don’t do it again, ever.”  The fact that he simply said it, that he didn’t yell, that he didn’t threaten, that’s what scared her.

“Yes sir, never again.”

“Good girl, very good, now let’s go, shall we?”

“May I ask where?”

“Why,
home
of course.”

…

 “
Tango Two this is Papa Two do you copy, over?”  Specialist Tyler Morris was manning the radio during this scheduled meeting.  So far there had been a total of twenty such meetings and although they weren’t yet commonplace, they were becoming routine.  What wasn’t routine was the fact that Sergeant Keeler, the military component of the team, hadn’t reported in at his thirty minute interval as planned.

The thirty minute interval was Top’s requirement, and it made sense.  It was a compromise between only reporting in just prior to making contact and using a high bandwidth connection that would have higher micromanaging everything.  It also made sense to check in fairly often and make sure that nothing had gone wrong.

Apparently thirty minutes was long enough for something to happen, and now it had.  Morris switched to Sheri’s frequency and just before he hit the send button got a transmission.  It didn’t sound like Sheri was holding her radio but she was the one talking, “Peter the Great?”

All transmissions were recorded on a 30 second loop which could be shunted to a permanent recording as necessary.  At the mention of Pete’s new moniker, Morris hit the record button and yelled for his NCO in charge, “Sergeant Bowersock!  Could you please step in here?”  While he waited for Sergeant Bowersock, the conversation continued and he heard a thump, followed by the sound of something or someone falling.  Morris was swearing under his breath as KB ducked into the tent.