299 Days: The Stronghold

Chapter 110 Funeral Planning (May 11)

Grant was in such a good mood walking back from the Grange. Maybe this Collapse thing wasn’t so bad after all. They would get to rebuild things better—way better—than they were before. Grant’s family had supplies and they were in a good place. This new world was kind of fun.

It was a little after midnight when he came up on the guard shack on Over Road. He didn’t want to get shot by mistake, so he made loud walking sounds as he rounded the corner and headed down Over Road. He said loudly, “Grant here” and put up his hands. He heard John say, “Got you.” John could see Grant’s outline in the big light at the end of the road. He didn’t point his 30-30 at Grant, but had a round in the chamber and kept it at the ready.

As Grant got a few feet from him, John said, “Bad news, Grant. Mrs. Roth died a few hours ago. Mary Anne has been crying nonstop.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Grant said. “Lisa said this would be coming soon, but it’s always a shock when it does.” He looked and the light was on in John and Mary Anne’s house.

“John, you go be with her. I’ve got guard duty,” Grant said.

“Thanks.” John turned and left. As he was going to his house, Chip was coming from it and toward the guard shack.

Chip came up to Grant and said, “Have you heard about Mrs. Roth?”

“Yeah. Bummer,” Grant said.

“I thought I’d do some guard duty,” Chip said. “To be honest, I don’t like being in a house with a crying woman. Reminds me of my first marriage.”

That was interesting. Grant didn’t know that Chip had been married before, or even a couple of times.

He realized that he and Chip hadn’t really had time to talk much in the past few days. They’d been so busy.

Grant was hungry. He’d been up all night and had been walking. He didn’t want to wake anyone up, though.

“Dude, I’m starving. It’ll be a long time before breakfast,” Grant said.

Chip fished around the guard shack and pulled out two brown plastic packages.

“Beef ravioli or chicken with salsa?” he asked with a grin. MREs. Chip must have stashed some of his out here.

“Hmmm…beef ravioli,” Grant said. “Not sure a midnight snack is the best use of food that can store for fifteen years, but I’m pretty damned hungry.”

Chip said, “Chicken with salsa for me, then.”

They opened their MREs. Grant’s had beef jerky, fruit, crackers, jalapeno cheese spread, and, the prize of prizes, a fudge brownie. Chip had Mexican rice, which was pretty good, crackers, jalapeño cheese spread, short bread, and prize of prizes, Skittles.

“Dang, an MRE kicks ass, especially when you’re hungry,” Chip said. He was right. That meal was fantastic. Grant’s stomach was growling as he ate.

“So, Chip, you have a family out here now, don’t you?” Grant asked.

“Yep,” Chip said with a smile. “Yep, I do.”

“Hey, remember when I first came into Capitol City Guns? Did you ever think we’d be doing this?” Grant asked.

“Not at all. Not at all,” Chip said and then changed the subject. “Hey, what are we going to do with those goodies in the basement?”

Grant had almost forgotten about the ARs and ammo that Chip brought from the gun store before the looting started back in Olympia.

“I dunno,” Grant said, “but I have a sneaking suspicion that we’ll find a use for them.” He had more than a sneaking suspicion. He knew exactly how they’d use them but the time wasn’t right to spring that on Chip. The guns were, after all, Chip’s, and they were worth their weight in gold right now.

“Who knows,” Chip said casually, “Perhaps a friend will show up and have a use for them.” Chip was looking off in the distance, down Over Road.

Grant knew what Chip meant and who the friend was, but he didn’t want to blurt it out. Subtlety was required in situations like these. One doesn’t openly talk about these things, even with people they trust. Blabbers get people killed. Besides, Grant didn’t want to be wrong and have Chip laugh at him. Or be offended that Grant had a plan for Chip’s valuable goods that Chip didn’t agree with.

Grant and Chip spent the rest of the night talking about everything and nothing. It was great to be talking to an old friend, especially with a good buzz going. All the problems were far away. Grant was where he wanted to be with the people he wanted to be with. He couldn’t ask for much more than that.

The sun started coming up, along with the sound of birds chirping. There was a very distinctive early morning bird chirp in western Washington. Every time Grant heard it, he was reminded of good times. He recalled searches he went on while in CAP, camping trips, late night drinking in college. All good memories.

“Well, we have a funeral to plan,” Grant said. He knew that this was an important community event, not just a way to honor Mrs. Roth and saw it as a chance to show the community that he and the other leaders were providing important services to the community. He could show them that the Patriot way was the best way.

John walked up to the guard shack with a cup of coffee. He probably didn’t get much sleep the previous night, either, with Mary Anne being so upset.

After exchanging “good mornings” and inquiries about Mary Anne’s emotional state, Grant said, “I’ll get the funeral going. Right after I sleep.”

Grant went as quietly as possible into the cabin and slept on the couch; he didn’t want to wake Lisa.

He opened his eyes about two hours later when Manda was up and starting the pancakes. He talked to her for a bit and then got the CB that they kept in the cabin. He got Rich on the line, which required a walk up to the top of the hill to get decent reception. He was tired and starting to have a very mild hangover. He hadn’t drank much in the past few years and it didn’t take much anymore to give him a fuzzy head the morning after.

“Hey, Rich,” Grant said when he slowly got to the top of the hill overlooking the water near his cabin, “sorry to wake you but we have a funeral to plan. Mrs. Roth down here died. Hey, can we use the Grange for this?”

“Yeah, sure,” Rich replied. “The one thing we don’t have is a mortician here. Could we get away with using a wood box that’s covered up? A quick burial before…things break down without embalming fluids?” Rich was grossed out by what he was saying.

“Sure,” Grant said. “Do we have any clergy out here?”

“Not really.” Rich said. “There’s Pastor Pete. What’s his name…Peter Edmonds, I think. He tried to start a church out here but there wasn’t enough interest. Most people who go to church—and that’s not too many—go to ones in Frederickson. He was a mechanic supervisor at the Ford dealership in town before it closed, but studies theology. Nice guy. Not a Bible thumper. He lives by me. I’ll go by his place after breakfast and call you back.”

“Thanks,” Grant said. “Who can make the box?” Before Rich could answer, Grant said, “How about John Morrell? He’s a carpenter and his wife, Mary Anne, was taking care of Mrs. Roth.”

“Sounds good,” Rich said.

“See you up at the Grange in a couple hours,” Grant said.

“Roger that,” Rich said and then said, “Out.” Talking on a radio was different than talking on a phone, but it was helpful to make sure the messages were clear.

Grant went to find John. Grant didn’t know how John would react to his request, but there was only one way to find out.

“John,” Grant said, “we probably will have more of these…events. I don’t think we’ll necessarily have enough wood for all the coffins. We might need to ‘recycle’ them. Could you make one that’s big enough for most people? We can use the coffin for the funeral and bury people straight into the ground without the coffin. Sorry, but…”

“No need to be sorry,” John said. “It’s practical. Besides, I never understood $5,000 coffins back when we had $5,000 to waste on such things.”

“Any thoughts on a place for a cemetery?” Grant asked, realizing how serious this whole thing was. With so many people cut off from their medications, like Mrs. Roth, Grant was afraid several people would be dying. Planning a cemetery would force the community to confront that reality.

John thought. “There’s a vacant lot on top of the hill overlooking the water. It’s right off the road leading here, so people could stop and visit graves. I don’t know who owns it, but it’s been vacant for years.”

Grant suggested they could figure that out by using the map with the lot numbers.

“If it’s owned by someone who hasn’t made it out here yet, they just donated the land,” Grant said. Of course, to be the good Patriot role models they were striving to be, Grant would make sure that an owner of the land who could actually be located would be compensated for the land by the community. They could make sure some of the deceased’s property went to the people who owned the cemetery property. Something like that: simple, but fair.

As Grant walked back down to the cabin, he realized that he needed to get to the Grange, but he didn’t want to use all the gas that Mark’s truck would burn. He had walked home from the Grange a few hours ago, been up most of the night, and was coming off a buzz. It wasn’t exactly prime strolling conditions.

When Grant got back to the guard shack, he asked John, “Hey, anyone around here have a bike or something?”

John thought. “Oh, yeah, the Sharpes up on Covington have a couple of mopeds. Their teenage kids ride them around in the summer. Would you like me to introduce you to them?”

“Yep,” Grant said. “I might need to borrow them.”

“Sure,” John said as he motioned for Grant to follow him. Grant, who was wearing his tactical vest and carrying his AR, would not force the Sharpes to give up their mopeds, but he sure hoped they would. A moped was a perfect way for one person to get somewhere using very little gas. Grant thought that he should have got one for his preps. With gas prices going up like they had, moped prices went up, too, since so many people were riding them to save money. Oh well, you can’t prepare for everything. Someone in Pierce Point would hopefully loan the security guys the mopeds they needed. It wasn’t exactly badass to patrol on a moped, but it beat walking.

The sun was fully up by now. It was beautiful. During the walk, Grant noticed deer paths and fruit trees that he usually missed when he drove past them.

They got to the Sharpes’ house, which was up on the hill overlooking near where he had made the CB transmission. A dog barked and a man came out and waved to John. He introduced Grant to Mr. Sharpe (John had forgotten his first name) and Grant explained why he needed the moped.

“Sure,” said Mr. Sharpe. “We have two. My kids like riding them, but I’m not sure where we will get the gas for them now. They go a week or so on a gallon of gas, but even that gallon is hard to come by now. Besides, you guys are protecting us,” Mr. Sharpe said to Grant. “My neighbors said you guys were a SEAL team. Is that true?”

Grant laughed. “No, sir. The only seals I’ve been around were in a zoo, eating fish that a trainer threw at them.” But Grant didn’t want Mr. Sharpe to think they had no security, so he added, “But we know how to use these things,” he said, pointing to his AR slung across his chest.

“Great,” Mr. Sharpe said. He was glad to have well-armed guys around who seemed to be nice. A friend of John’s must be an OK guy.

“Happy to help,” Mr. Sharpe said. “My oldest boy is eighteen. He’s driving me crazy just sitting around like he is. Can you guys put his lazy ass to work?”

“You bet,” Grant said. “Have him come up to the Grange today and we’ll get him a job.” They talked about the skills his son had, which weren’t too many, but he knew guns, so it looked they had found a new guard for the gate. John assured Grant that the eighteen year-old Sharpe boy was a good kid.

Mr. Sharpe went into the house and brought back two helmets and two keys. “There’s probably a half tank in each. You know how to use one of these?” Grant had ridden one in college.

After showing Grant all the controls, which weren’t many, Mr. Sharpe said, “Hey, John, you can ride the second one to wherever you need to go. They’re yours. When things get back to normal, I’d like them back, and please repair them if you break them.”

“No problem,” Grant said. This would be the first donation for Drew to record in his records. “A guy named Drew will be coming by sometime, not sure when, to record your donations here. We’re keeping track of who’s contributing to the community. Thanks again.”

Recording contributions seemed like a good idea to Mr. Sharpe. It made sense to give people credit for what they’re doing, like he was by donating the mopeds.

Mr. Sharpe waved and went back in the house. John and Grant put the helmets on and got on the mopeds to head back home.

As they came down Over Road toward the guard shack, Chip gave them the thumbs up and smiled at the mopeds. The noise of the little engines brought the Team out of the yellow cabin. They were smiling, too. Their transportation problem had just been solved.

Most people were already eating breakfast by the time Grant and John got back to the cabin. Breakfast was oatmeal or pancakes. Grant chose oatmeal and added hot cocoa mix to it, a combination Grant learned in Civil Air Patrol that they called “chocolatey-oat goodness.” Grant liked pancakes better but, by choosing oatmeal, he was stretching their limited amount of pancake mix some more. Eileen had been thinking the same thing about the pancake mix and asked Grant if she should start using the biscuit mix in the morning to make biscuits.

“One of Mary Anne’s friends is a bee keeper and offered us honey,” Eileen said. “That would be great on biscuits.” Grant’s mouth literally started watering at the thought of real honey on biscuits.

Tammy was at Grant’s cabin for breakfast and updated everyone on what was happening at the power company. She had to leave soon to get to work, but said, “The director said some federal people came by and told him that we might need to consider cutting off utilities to various places. It almost sounded like the shut offs were political because the feds said the FCorps would be telling us specifically who to shut off.” Everyone was shocked. They hadn’t prepared themselves for the loss of electricity. In fact, they’d got pretty used to having it as the one stable luxury during this entire catastrophe.

“My boss,” Tammy continued, “said that he wouldn’t shut off anyone, not now, and not with everything that people are dealing with. The Feds left. My boss told us not to shut off anyone, not even if they hadn’t paid their bills. Which is funny because no one is paying their bills.”

Tammy, who had heard about the mopeds during breakfast, turned to Grant and said, “Guess who has a full tank of gas, courtesy of the power company? If you have a hose, I have the gas for the mopeds.” Tammy could also get diesel by driving to work in Mark’s truck, which ran on diesel, and filling it up every week, or so.

John said, “I can siphon off some. I have some gas cans to put it in. Just so everyone knows, these cans are reserved for moped gas, OK?” Everyone was fine with that.

It was time for the Team to go up to the Grange for the day. They went to the yellow cabin to get into their gear and kit up, which included their tactical vests with ammunition magazines, a Camelbak water bladder on their backs, a small trauma first aid kit, a flashlight, extra batteries, and miscellaneous things, like gloves, sunscreen, and a shemagh, which was a Middle Eastern scarf that had multiple uses.

Chip, who had also been up most of the night, would stay behind and take a nap. So would Grant, who was feeling his age after staying up all night and walking a few miles with guns, ammo and a good buzz. A nap would freshen him up.

Manda was overseeing Cole and Missy in the after-breakfast cleanup. After that, they were going to the “Pirate Cave,” which was a little cove in the bank along the beach. Then it was sweeping the decks of the houses and cabin and seeing if Drew needed any errands run. At Pierce Point, “errands” meant walking a piece of paper to a neighbor’s house or going over to someone’s house and telling them something. The kids would also pick up pinecones and put them in garbage bags for winter fuel. It took them about twice as long to do things as it took adults, but that was fine. They were occupying themselves and getting some things done, which made them feel helpful.

Although the kids were useful to the adults in their new roles, they also couldn’t let education go by the wayside. Mary Anne, the retired teacher, had been thinking about this and had planned to attend the Grange meeting to ask if the community wanted to start up a school in the fall, but Mrs. Roth’s death had interrupted that.

After Lisa was ready to go to “work,” Pow came over with his kit on. They were ready to go, so they piled into Mark’s truck. They waited a minute or two and then Lisa got into the cab. Grant felt that there was something so civilizing about letting a lady ride up front.

As they were pulling out, Pow looked at the guys in the back of the truck and said, “Beats the shit out of selling insurance.”

They went up to the Grange where Lisa met up with her medical team and they started going over how to turn two rooms of the Grange into a medical clinic. They kept saying, “What we really need is some…” The list of things they needed was long.

Cindy, the former renal nurse who knew all the nurses and others at the Frederickson Hospital, decided that they needed to go on a run into town to get medical supplies. She talked to Rich about how to do that safely.

The day’s plan for the Team was for them to patrol the areas around the Grange first. This would get the Team out to meet people. Ryan would come with them; he was a local guy who the residents would probably know.

Ryan was starting to fit into the Team. He was a combat vet and his skills could be used on the SWAT part of the community’s security force. More than his experience, though, was the fact that he was a quiet and calm professional. He wasn’t a gung-ho brute; he was a sheepdog, like all the other guys on the Team.

Rich realized that he would need Drew, who was back at his cabin, to go out with the Team to take down information on each lot number. Grant wasn’t at the Grange, either. They would need both of them. And Chip wasn’t there, either.

“Grant and Chip are taking a nap,” Scotty told Rich. “They did guard duty last night.”

“At the gate?” Rich asked. He knew who was on guard duty at the gate and it wasn’t them.

“Nope,” Scotty said. “At our guard shack on Over Road.”

Rich took that as a sign that things weren’t totally secure in Pierce Point. He wondered how many others had internal guard stations. That would be Rich’s goal: make things so safe that people didn’t need their own guards. Everyone, or mostly everyone, was armed in their homes, so that would stop lots of crime.

Rich could see that Ryan and the Team were fusing. He pulled Ryan aside and asked if Ryan wanted to work with the Team.

“Sure,” Ryan said. “They’re good guys. They don’t have my level of skills, but I don’t think they’ll get me killed.” Plus, Ryan really wanted to do the “door bustin’” work and it looked like the Team would be doing that, so he wanted to be with them. Guarding the gate bored him.

“You don’t have an AR, do you?” Rich asked. “I haven’t seen you with one and I would imagine now is the time to carry one if you had one.”

“Nope, no AR,” Ryan answered. He pointed to his pistol belt. “Got my Beretta, just like the one I had in the Corps.” Ryan had a 92F in 9mm.

Rich motioned for Pow to come over. “Hey, Pow, what if Ryan worked with the Team?”

“Sure.” Pow said. “Great idea.” Pow liked having a combat-experienced Marine along. Ryan would bring up their skill level and offer some great training. And he seemed like a good guy.

“Sounds good to me,” said Ryan.

“Ryan needs an AR. You got any extras?” Rich asked.

“Yep. Each of us has an extra AR or AK,” Pow said with a smile. “Which you like; AR or AK?”

“AR,” Ryan said. “AKs are for the people who used to be trying to kill me. Kinda puts a bad taste in your mouth.”

“OK, I have an AR for you,” Pow said. “I probably have some odds and ends to set you up with kit. I’ll hook you up when we get back to the yellow cabin at the end of the day.”

“Thanks, man,” Ryan said.

Rich pulled the Team, which now included Ryan, together and described how they would go down the road in front of the Grange and start meeting people in each house. Just to introduce themselves and let people know that they could call on them. Grant and Drew, once they got there, would come with them and take down information on each house. They’d find out how many people lived there, their names, any special needs, like medical conditions, whether they had a CB or other radio, and whether they had any equipment that might be useful to the community, like the mopeds. The Team would also ask if the homeowner had enough food, but wouldn’t pry and ask how much food they had.

“Don’t push the equipment or especially food topics,” Rich said. “I don’t want to spook people into thinking that we’re getting a shopping list together for us to loot.” He was glad Grant would be along, because Grant seemed to be a master at this kind of person-to-person level of politics. And he was the brains behind the idea of using the lot numbers as a census and inventory.

Rich noticed that “his” people like Dan were blending together easily with the Team into one working group. Rich was giving instructions to the Team, the Team had blended Ryan in, and Grant would be carrying out Rich’s plan, which was based on Grant’s idea about the lot numbers. They were working together seamlessly, after only a few days. Rich was so glad Grant and his friends had come to Pierce Point. They, in turn, were glad Rich was out here, too.

Ryan went off with the Team and showed them some infantry moves. The Team had been introduced to these basic movements by Special Forces Ted, but had gotten rusty on them.

The Team’s tactical training was more geared at SWAT things. In their training, which had been on a short-distance civilian gun range, bad guys were at short ranges; typically a room away or one house away. While most of the Team was oriented toward short-range SWAT purposes, Pow was an amazing sniper, and could provide long-range fire with his .308 bolt gun. Grant had no idea how he trained himself. Maybe he got some one-on-one training at a long-distance range from Special Forces Ted.

Ryan’s military training was different than the Team’s. His was trained for bad guys being hundreds of yards out. He was also trained to have tools like grenades, machine guns, and even artillery and air support. They didn’t have any of that in Pierce Point, but between Ryan’s military training and the Team’s tactical law enforcement skills, they were a hell of a force. At least, against meth addicts and untrained gangs. Ryan knew what would happen if they went up against a real military unit.

After about two hours of leisurely paced training, they heard the whine of mopeds. It was Grant and Drew. Chip hadn’t come; he had the day off after a night of guard duty and was sleeping.

Rich used the CB to tell Grant to bring Drew and what they would be doing. Drew had never ridden a moped. Life during the Collapse was full of new experiences for everyone. Drew picked up quickly on moped riding but was a little scared, though he tried not to show it. He was the old accountant guy; he would be patrolling around with the Team today. He didn’t want to emphasize to the young guys that he was old and not exactly a gun fighter. He was honored to be asked out into the field with these guys. He “forgot” to tell Eileen that he would be patrolling with well-armed men. She would deal with it when she found out. Welcome to life after the Collapse. That meant your mild mannered accountant husband might be patrolling with an amateur SWAT team. This was the “new normal.”

Rich was carrying out Grant’s idea for the lot number project and realized they needed a name for it. It would be a “census.” That sounded harmless and it reinforced the idea that Rich and the volunteers out there were…well, governing. “Governing” in the sense of solving community-wide problems with people who voluntarily wanted them to solve them; not the old kind of “government” which stole just about everything and bossed people around.

A man on a bike rode up to the Grange. He was in his fifties with graying and thinning hair. He didn’t have a pistol, which looked a little weird.

“Oh, hey, it’s Pete.” Rich yelled, “Over here, Pete,” and the man came over to them. Rich introduced everyone. “This is Pastor Pete,” Rich said. “He has agreed to do Mrs. Roth’s funeral.” They all shook hands.

Rich and Pastor Pete talked about the funeral service at the Grange. Pastor Pete seemed a little apprehensive, not about using the Grange, but about doing the service. “I’m not really an ordained minister, or anything,” he told Rich. Pete had studied theology on his own. He knew a lot about it, but had no formal training.

“That’s OK,” Rich said. “You’re our clergy out here.” This was another part of the “new normal” after the Collapse: people with no formal training were doing lots of jobs they technically weren’t qualified to do according to the pre-Collapse laws. But, most were doing a great job, despite the lack of credentials, which made everyone realize that pre-Collapse America required too many formal qualifications to do simple things. It made sense to have qualifications to do heart surgery—but to cut hair? The Collapse was the “do it yourself” era again in America. Like it had been up until the past fifty or sixty years.

“Hey, you want to start church services here on Sundays?” Rich asked Pete. Rich hadn’t been to church in years, but with all that was going on, wanted to get back to it, as long as it wasn’t preachy church. He knew Pete wouldn’t be like that.

Pastor Pete’s eyes lit up at the suggestion about him starting regular church services out there. “That would be great. Really great.” He paused. “This is what I’ve been waiting for; a chance to have a church.” He caught himself, “Not like I wanted all this to happen, of course.”

“Of course,” said Rich.

Grant and Drew arrived at the Grange on their borrowed mopeds.

“A motorcycle gang of lawyers and accountants on mopeds,” Bobby said, pointing at Grant and Drew. “We can fight off bad asses like this.” Everyone laughed.

Rich introduced Grant to Pete. Grant starting thinking about how nice it would be to have a church at Pierce Point. It would bring the community together even more. And, because Rich told Grant that Pastor Pete was not a “Bible thumper,” it was unlikely that the church services would divide people.

Grant hated to admit what his next thought was: politics. Having church services would be good for the governance out there. People would meet—voluntarily—over something other than shifts for guard duty or taking turns cooking in the Grange kitchen. It would bring back a sense of normalcy out there. Actually, since most people in Pierce Point didn’t regularly attend church, it could be a new thing for many people; a community thing. Plus, Pastor Pete could perform functions that all societies needed: funerals, weddings, deathbed counseling, giving hope to those grieving after the loss of a loved one. This was important. Surviving wasn’t just about food and water. People needed a society to thrive.

A truck drove up from the direction of the gate, which was a few miles down the main road. Dan got out of the cab and came over.

He met Pastor Pete, who he recognized but didn’t really know. Dan said, “Oh, great. We have a chaplain. My guys and gals out at the gate—and soon to be on the beach patrol—could use a chaplain. They can’t get to church and…well, with what’s going on, they could use it. We all could. I know I can.”

Dan added quickly, “Of course, it’s totally voluntary.”

Pastor Pete said, “Oh, of course. It doesn’t work when you force things on people. I have some counseling training so I won’t approach everything from the religious standpoint if that’s not what people want. I’m just a guy people can talk to.”

Perfect. Grant was determined not to let things needlessly start dividing people. There would be enough of that coming. Fights over food, work, everything. They didn’t need religion to be added to that. Or race, or anything else. They needed to get through this together.

The Grange ladies started serving lunch. It was early for that, but Rich explained that they would be going out in the field to do the census so they had to eat now. They sat down to eat more good stuff; this time made by a different crew than the day before, but one that could cook just as well.

While they were eating, Grant asked if anyone out there had a copy machine and paper. One of the ladies, Barbara, said her husband was a realtor and had a home office where he made fliers. He had a good sized copy machine and boxes of paper. Grant asked if he could talk to her husband sometime because he had a special use in mind for the copier.

“I’ll have him come by tonight for the meeting,” Barbara said. “His name is Ken. Ken Dolphson.”

“Thanks,” Grant said. He had to find out Ken’s politics. If Ken was a Loyalist, he probably wouldn’t want to do what Grant had in mind for that copy machine.

Lunch was over, and the Team headed out on foot to the houses nearest to the Grange. Drew rode along on a moped in case one of them needed to get back to the Grange in a hurry if the Team were called out to go do some SWAT work. He’d be the escort. Rich and Dan headed to the gate while Pastor Pete stayed behind and worked with the ladies on the funeral plans.

Bobby asked Ryan if they should just walk down the road or be a little more “tactical” by thinking about cover. Grant was glad that Bobby asked Ryan, instead of him or Pow. It showed that the Team was looking to Ryan for leadership on questions like this. The Team was, after all, a group of civilians with no combat experience. Walking up on houses was more of an infantry exercise and something Ryan knew well.

“Nah,” Ryan said, “just walk down the road. We have no reason to think people are trying to shoot us.” He added, “But I’m glad you’re thinking of these things.” Grant was glad Ryan answered this way because he didn’t want the residents to think the Team was sneaking up on them. They were a resource, not a threat.

Houses seemed to be about a quarter mile apart. The Team wished they could just drive to all the houses, but gas was tight right now. Some of the residences had fairly long roads leading to a house or occasionally a mobile home and some were hidden in the woods.

Ryan approached each house slowly, yet loudly. Many houses had barking dogs. Some dogs were loose, which was a problem for the Team.

Ryan would do the knocking. Pierce Point residents might recognize him, but they certainly wouldn’t recognize the Team. Also, Ryan didn’t have an AR yet, which made him seem like less of a threat. The last thing they wanted was a friendly fire incident from a panicked homeowner.

Once someone answered the door, Ryan would introduce himself and then the Team. They would chat with the homeowners. Pow, Bobby, and Scotty would casually look around for anything interesting. Grant told them to pay attention to any bumper stickers on cars because they could give clues about politics. Wes, the former equipment rental mechanic, was looking for equipment that might be useful. Drew and Grant would fill out information on clipboards.

Most people were very glad to see them, especially the ones who hadn’t been to the meetings at the Grange as they hadn’t seen too many people in several days. They had been cooped up in their homes watching TV and worrying. The nice, well-armed young men knocking at the door represented law and order. Grant and Drew weren’t exactly young, but they added a sense of supervision to the Team. The Team regretted having eaten an early lunch because most people were asking them to come in and eat.

Grant was doing his best to figure out people’s politics, but he wasn’t pushing it. The most he did was ask what people did for a living. If they were government employees, he would stop the political probing. There was a good chance they were Loyalists. It wasn’t a certainty that government employees were Loyalists, just a better chance. Grant felt weird obsessing about politics like he was—what kind of snoop comes onto a person’s property to look at their bumper stickers? But he knew that politics was important. Pierce Point would either be a divided group of people just getting by, or a Patriot stronghold. He was working hard to steer it in a definite direction.

About half of the people volunteered to do anything they could to help. The other half just greeted them and gave out basic information. They weren’t very talkative, which was understandable considering that well-armed strangers were asking questions in a time when there were no police.

A few people seemed like they might be problems in the future. One older lady was wildly incoherent, likely off of her medications. Finally, they had to leave her house because they couldn’t understand what she was saying. Something about her cats.

One place was a definite red flag. It was a very rundown place, which wasn’t the problem because about a quarter of the places were rundown, and the people in them were usually perfectly fine. But this house had the lights on and it seemed like people were home. However, no one answered the door, even after repeated knocks from Ryan. Whoever was inside did not want to talk to them.

“This is one to watch,” Grant said to Ryan, who nodded. Grant made a note of it in his records.

Time flew by. It was 5:30 pm. They had to walk back about a mile and a half to the Grange. The meeting would be at 7:00 p.m. and Grant was hoping to meet the realtor with the copy machine.

“Let’s head back,” he said. The guys were getting hungry despite all the snacks they were given by residents.

Grant was holding up better than he thought for an old guy who had only a few hours of sleep. Once again, he thought about how important it was to be in shape. It was one of the most important preparations he made.

The Grange and the tasty dinner inside seemed like heaven as the building came into view.

Grant saw Lisa in the parking lot taking a break. She waved at him. It reminded Grant of when he would visit her at work when she worked in a real hospital.

“What a day,” he said to the Team as they got to the parking lot. He felt great. This was what he was supposed to be doing. He loved these guys and his wife was out there now. They were the perfect people in exactly the right place.