299 Days: The Stronghold

Chapter 121 The Authorities Arrive (May 12)

Seeing the Grange ladies going back reminded Grant about Chip at the Grange. Grant ran to the communications person, the “comm chick” as they called her. Her name was Heidi and she was in her late teens. She was a sheriff’s search and rescue volunteer and a radio geek. She had a ham radio—a nice one—and kept in contact with her dad, Curt Copeland, the ham radio guy. He was at his house with the massive ham radio antennas. They also kept in contact with Linda Rodriquez, the former Seattle police dispatcher who was the dispatcher at the comm center in the Grange. Between Heidi at the gate, Linda at the Grange, and Curt at his house, they had communications with everyone they needed to. They needed to have a CB and a ham radio, and sometimes both, and switch back and forth, but it was better than no comms.

Grant asked Heidi, “Can you get me the Grange?”

Heidi nodded. She handed Grant the ham radio. Good, Grant realized when he had a reasonably secure ham radio, what he had to say wasn’t something he wanted just anyone on a CB to hear. Linda answered.

“Hey, Linda, this is Grant. Can you get me Chip?” Grant said, while Heidi was cringing at Grant’s improper use of radio lingo.

Linda answered, “Hold on. I’ll get him.”

About thirty seconds later, Chip came on. “Yah?”

“Chip, it’s Grant. We’re geared up down at the gate pretty good. The Grange ladies are coming back to you. Here’s my question: You got enough beef watchin’ the snacks?”

Chip laughed at Grant’s rather lame attempt to speak in code about the semi. “Yep,” Chip said. “Got five cows and me, the lead bull. Besides, the farmer has the keys.” That was pretty lame code talking, too.

“What’s going on at the homestead?” Grant asked.

“Lots of people got the word,” Chip said. “They’re showing up. I screen out the ones that won’t be much help. One old fart came with his M1 Garand from Korea and wanted to fight. He’s one of the reserve cows. The strong young bulls, I send down to where you are. I let them know what’s going on down there. So, what is going on?”

Grant didn’t want to say too much, even on the ham radio. “Things are fine down here,” he said. “‘Nuff said. See you in the morning,” Grant added, thinking silently, “Probably.”

“You come back in the morning, Mr. Matson,” Chip said, “so I can say, ‘Mornin’ Sunshine.’”

It was silent for a while. Chip didn’t want to lose any members of the new Pierce Point family.

“Will do, Uncle Chip,” Grant said.

He handed the radio back to Heidi. “How many handheld ham radios do we have?”

“This one down here,” Heidi said, “one spare at the Grange, my dad has one, Linda has one at the Grange, and the Chief has one. The rest of the radios here are CBs. Rich, Dan, and the snipers have a CB. So do I, of course.”

“Any extra CB handhelds?” Grant asked.

“Yep,” Heidi said, “One. Who needs it?”

“Pow,” Grant said. “I’ll take it to him.” Heidi got it, checked the battery level, and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” Grant said.

As Grant was walking over to Pow, the CB crackled.

“Visitors,” a voice said. Grant got a chill down his spine. That was exactly what he feared. Grant looked at the sky. It was still light out. It was late afternoon. It was a terrible time to try to attack, unless the attackers were furious and blood-thirsty. Why not wait until night?

Rich and Dan yelled for the squad leaders to get their people ready. This was it.

Dan had his dog team in hand and pointed at the gate. Anyone who walked across that bridge would be chewed to bits by those dogs. They were terrifying, which was half the point. The other half was actually chewing bad guys to bits.

Grant ran toward the Team, which was gathering together behind one of the sandbag bunkers. He would be a foot soldier on the Team now that he’d done all that organizing. The Team looked at each other. They knew one another so well. They’d done this before. Not “this” exactly; not a gun fight. But, they’d done plenty else. It was time to prove themselves. They were up for it.

A police car with its lights flashing was slowly coming down the road from Frederickson. It stopped, well short of the solid metal gate, and turned down Pierce Point Road. The car wasn’t about to try to drive across that bridge.

The voice came back on the radio. “Just one vehicle. Lights on. No others. No one on foot. Yet.” Grant had never heard the voice before. It was a man. He sounded like he knew what he was doing.

Rich was puzzled. Just one police car? That’s it. Either this is not the attack or it’s a trick. Something was up.

Rich yelled, “No one shoots. No shooting unless your squad leader says so.” Squad leaders and others were repeating it to everyone around them so everyone got it.

Rich was behind the other sandbag bunker. He got on his CB, turned the channel and said into the handheld, “Who are you?”

“Sheriff’s Department,” the voice said. He was on CB channel 9, the emergency channel. “Who’s this?”

Rich recognized the cop’s voice. It was John Bennington, a sergeant Rich had worked with. A good guy. “Is this John?”

“Yes,” Bennington said. “Is this Rich?”

“Yep,” Rich said. “Hi, John. What brings you out to Pierce Point?” Rich asked calmly.

“There’s been a report of a stolen truck. You know anything about that?” Bennington asked.

“Nope,” Rich said. “I know about a truck that broke down a few hundred yards from the entrance. Some black guy came here this afternoon and said he needed help. We got his rig started up again and he drove it in here. Then he said he’s walking to town. He left a couple hours ago. We have the truck. You want to see it?”

“You have it?” Bennington was surprised. “Really?”

“Yep,” Rich said. “Want to see? I have the papers on the load that he left. If you walk slowly across the bridge, you won’t get shot. You see, we’re taking security into our own hands here, given all that’s happened. Your response times are a little long now. No offense.”

“None taken,” Bennington said. “OK. Sgt. Summers is with me and he’ll stay in the car.”

Sergeant Summers? Was that Dylan Summers, the young deputy? Rich asked, “Did you say Sgt. Summers?”

“Yep,” Bennington said. “Lots of promotions lately with all the AWOL people. I’m a lieutenant, myself.”

“Congratulations,” Rich said. So this is how they were getting guys to keep manning the patrol cars: promotions. Great. But John was a decent guy, so unless he’d radically changed in the last few weeks, he probably hadn’t let it go to his head.

“Coming out,” Bennington said.

Rich yelled to the squads, “Hold your fire. I repeat: do not fire.”

People were tense. When most of the guards heard the car door open and shut, they started gripping their guns hard. Grant found himself scanning the river and the flanks. Just one cop car at the gate wasn’t the attacking force. It must be coming from some other direction. Grant was scanning right, left, and to the rear. So was the Team.

Bennington walked slowly with his hands to his sides. He made it to the gate and motioned that he wanted to go under the metal pole and come across. Rich gave him the thumbs up. Bennington scrunched down under the metal pole and crossed over. Rich came out from his sandbag bunker and strolled over with extreme calm and confidence. After all, he was just talking to an old friend. It wasn’t like they had anything to hide.

Bennington was marveling at all the defenses. He especially noted Dan’s K9 team. He would make a report to headquarters on this. His initial impression was: Don’t fuck with Pierce Point.

Rich had some papers in his hand and showed them to Bennington. “As far as I can tell from these,” Rich said, “that trailer is empty. A return run from Tacoma from a few days ago. That’s what the black guy said.”

Bennington asked, “Mind if I look in there?”

“Of course not,” Rich said. “Let me get the keys.” Smithson had previously given Rich the keys to his empty trailer.

Rich pointed toward his pants pocket to let Bennington know that he would be getting the keys out of his pocket instead of drawing a pistol on him. Bennington nodded.

Rich got the keys out of his pocket and took Bennington over to the truck, which was in plain sight. Rich unlocked the padlocks and opened the trailer door.

“See,” Rich said. “Empty. It’s probably why he just abandoned this. He probably went to the gate at Frederickson. He was headed that direction, toward town,” Rich said, pointing toward Frederickson.

Bennington was stunned. He was surprised not only that Rich had let him cross the bridge, but that the truck was empty. Bennington had been told by the county emergency management people that the truck—and the truck Rich that was showing him matched the description he’d been given—was full of something valuable that they wanted back in Frederickson. But the emergency management people and the FC idiots from Olympia were dumbshits, Bennington thought. This confirmed it. They had Bennington chasing after empty trucks.

“OK, that’s empty alright,” Bennington said. “The Commissioner will be disappointed.”

“The Commissioner?” Rich asked.

“Oh, yeah, Commissioner Winters,” Bennington said, referring to one of the county commissioners. “He is kind of running things now.” Bennington rolled his eyes. Bennington hated Winters. Winters was corrupt.

“As in, running things with gangs?” Rich asked.

Bennington smiled, “Well, that’s the rumor, but you can never believe all that.” Bennington was communicating loud and clear.

Bennington pointed to his pocket and said, “Mind if I take a picture for the Commissioner?”

“Sure,” Rich said. Bennington pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and took a few pictures.

“Well,” Bennington said, “thanks for letting me see the truck. You can keep it. It’s worthless now. Just another truck without any diesel. How’s the family?” He asked.

Rich and Bennington talked about their families for a minute or two. Bennington’s wife had recently left him and took their daughter with her to Mill Creek, a suburb north of Seattle. Bennington constantly worried about his daughter up there in Seattle with all that was going on. He knew he couldn’t get up to her now or maybe ever.

When they were done catching up on family news, Rich said, “Oh, hey, John, I have something for you.” He ran over to the fire station and returned with a paper bag that he handed to Bennington.

Bennington knew what it was without opening it—a bottle of booze. Bennington wouldn’t open it up in front of all those witnesses. He smiled and said, “Oh, thanks. You didn’t have to.”

Rich smiled. He knew what was going on. Grant, who was watching from behind a sandbag bunker, sensed that this happened all the time at the Sheriff’s department, which was probably why Rich left the force. Only it probably wasn’t a bottle of booze between two old friends that got Rich to leave.

“Take care,” Bennington said as he was walking back across the bridge with the bag in his hand. “Let me know if you need anything out here, but it looks like you guys are taking care of yourselves.” That was exactly what Rich hoped Bennington would conclude. Pierce Point was taking care of itself and not messing with the authorities—that’s what Winters would hear from Bennington. Good.

Bennington got in the car and it slowly backed down the road to the Frederickson road and drove off.

When the car was gone, Rich looked at the guards and Team and yelled, “That’s how we do it at Pierce Point!”

Cheers went up all around. They wouldn’t have to fight. Probably not. Well, not tonight.

Rich said, “I want you guys to stay here until morning. I’m not letting our guard down. We’re here, we’re fed, and we might as well finish this job. Maybe people at the county are mad at Bennington for coming back with a picture of an empty trailer. We’ll see. But stick around.” People were so happy that there wasn’t a gunfight that they didn’t mind staying there all night. None of them wanted to be a coward and leave. They enjoyed the camaraderie of just being there and were ready to fight for their homes and families.

People came up to Rich to congratulate him. That bribery at the end was a nice touch. They knew they’d have fewer problems with the cops now.

Grant went into the volunteer fire station to see Lisa. She had heard that there probably wasn’t going to be a fight and was relieved. It was anti-climactic, but in a good way.

Grant couldn’t help himself. “You know, honey, the idea for the empty trailer was mine.”

She just nodded. She was very proud of him, but couldn’t let him know. He was obnoxious enough now; he’d be worse if she actually acknowledged how smart that stunt was.

“Uh huh. Nice,” is all she said. But Grant knew that she was proud and glad. Or at least, he thought she was.

After a while, Rich came over to Grant and said, “Hey, nice head fake. That was brilliant.”

Grant was proud. “Well,” he said, “we got lucky that Smithson had that extra trailer with the paper work.” Grant paused and then said, “You know, Rich, the best part about outsmarting those bastards is that you don’t have that ringing in your ears from, you know… shooting them.”

“And them shooting back,” Rich said.