The Alpha Chronicles (18 page)

“No, no sir. It’s just I’m not used to asking for anyone’s help. It’s an uncomfortable feeling.”

Pete dismissed his customer’s concerns. “Trust me, sir. The people of Meraton and Alpha would welcome the opportunity to help you and the ranch. You’ve always been there for us. Like you said, it’s the neighborly thing to do.”

Meraton, Texas

January 25,
2016

Pete rose early, quickly running through the tasks to prepare his business for another day’s trade. He had tossed and turned most of the night, desperately trying to think of a way to help Carlos Beltran. He just couldn’t think of a workable idea.

Leaving the bar and moving along Main to The Manor, he wasn’t surprised to see
Betty’s three guests already awake and lounging on the front steps of the hotel. “Good morning.”

The greeting was answered by all of the men, and then Mr. Beltran expanded. “We’ve had good coffee, good
eggs, and good conversation with the proprietor of this fine establishment already this morning. A fine start to the day.”

Betty appeared behi
nd the men, her hand grasping a pot of coffee. “Anyone need a refill? Oh, good morning, Pete. Need a cup of coffee?”

Pete declined the offer, reassuring Betty that he’d take a rain check. Saying her goodbyes to the guests, The Manor’s manager hurried back inside.

“What time does the market open, Pete?”

“It’s typically in full swing by nine. I thought we’d send a message to Alpha first. After that, we can talk to the folks while they’re setting up.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The four men strolled a few blocks down Main and then crossed the road at Cherry Street. Meraton’s sole HAM radio operator resided at the end of Cherry and was normally an early riser.

All four remained silent during the trip, each man keeping his early morning thoughts to himself. A few blocks later Pete paused and pointed to a single-story brick, ranch style home, the property’s only noticeable feature being a 50-foot tower topped by an unusually shaped antenna.

Dennis Levine answered the knock on his door with a sleep-filled, gravelly voice that somehow managed to relay curiosity and annoyance in the same tone. “Pete? Is something wrong?”

“Good morning, Dennis. I have Mr. Beltran and two of his men with me. We have a message we need to get off to Alpha. Is your equipment running this morning?”

The front door opened a few inches and then all the way. “No, I’ve not turned it on yet. It’ll take a few minutes to warm up. Come on in.”

The four visitors entered a modest living room, Mr. Levine already sitting at what had once been a dining room table, but now more closely resembled a radio station’s control room. Numerous black boxes, rows of switches and dials, and a maze of wiring filled the space.

A sleepy sounding voice called out from the back of the house, “Dennis? Is everything okay?”

Cupping his hand beside his mouth, the radio operator answered, “Everything’s fine, Marie. It’s Pete and some friends needing to send a message. Go back to sleep.”

Dennis began flipping switches and turning dials. Taking a pad and pen, his eyes surveyed Pete’s face for instructions. “What’s the message?”

“The dispatch is for Diana and Nick. Tell them Mr. Beltran is in Meraton and has a serious problem. He’s losing cattle and needs several tons of feed. Ask them if they have any ideas on where we can find a source to keep his livestock from starving.”

Pete looked up at Carlos, “That sound about right?”

“Yes, that pretty much covers it. Please add that I appreciate everyone’s time.”

“I’ll send it first thing after the radio’s tubes warm up,” promised Mr. Levine.

The conversation was interrupted by a rustling sound from the back of the house. Everyone but Slim ignored the disturbance, all of them assuming Mrs. Levine had decided to stay awake. Mr. Beltran was just reaching to shake Mr. Levine’s hand when Slim yelled out, “GUN!”

Pete half turned in time to see a rifle barrel rounding a corner before the room erupted in movement. Slim produced a Glock pistol from his beltline, the handgun raised and aimed in a blur of motion.

Butter moved to shield his boss, the effort causing him to step through a cluster of wires feeding the tabletop menagerie of electronics. The big fellow’s foot hooked in a power cord, pulling the attached black box onto the floor.

Mr. Levine ducked under the table, his mind finally settling on the thought that someone was going to shoot his wife. He managed a weak and pleading, “Wait!”

“Come on out, now,” Slim’s voice stated with authority. “Move real slow, and no one will get hurt.”

A head showed around the corner. A patch of rustled gray hair appeared, soon joined by a pair of bushy eyebrows peeking for only a moment before ducking back behind the wall. “Dennis,” a distant, nervous voice sounded, “you okay? What’s going on over here?”

It took a moment for the terrified homeowner to respond. “Dean? Dean is that you? What in God’s name are you doing?”

“I saw all these strangers walking up to your house, Dennis. I thought you were being robbed.”

Mr. Levine held up a shaking hand, his eyes wide with fear. Looking at Slim, he managed, “That’s my neighbor. He’s a little nosy, but you don’t need to shoot him for it. Please don’t kill him, mister. Except for grilling Texas’ worst barbecue, he’s not
really
such a bad guy.”

Pete knew the man as well. “Dean, it’s me, Pete. Put that damned gun down before these men scatter your insides all over Mari
e’s carpet. Nobody is being robbed.”

The town’s mayor walked toward the corner, shaking his head in frustration. Slim watched as Pete’s hand reached out and snatched the barrel of a weapon. He soon returned with an embarrassed, older man wearing a nightshirt, shorts and bright pink s
lippers. Pete couldn’t resist. Pointing down at the intruder’s feet he remarked, “Love the shoes, Dean. You wear those every day or did you save them especially for the apocalypse?”

Dean glanced down and then flushed red. “I guess I put on the wife’s shoes. We had the curtains drawn, and it was dark in the bedroom.”

Pete handed the man his rifle back, his tone stern. “You’d better get back home, Dean. Your better half might come looking for you and someone might get hurt - probably you for sneaking out in her pink bunny slippers.”

Turning back to Dennis, Pete questioned, “Are you okay?”

The man answered with a nod and then began to immediately reassemble his equipment. Mr. Levine’s face expressed concern over the box that had landed on the floor, cradling the hardware like a mother would comfort a child with a skinned knee.

“Is your equipment okay, sir?” asked an embarrassed Butter.

“I... I… don’t know yet. I think so.”

Pete stepped over, placing a comforting hand on the radio operator’s shoulder.

“Do you have the message straight?”

“Yes, yes, I sure do.”

“Okay, Dennis. Sorry to have bothered you and sorry about the commotion. We’ll be on our way.”

Pete and his guests exited the radioman’s home, making their way back toward Main Street and the preparations to open the market.

After a short period spent gathering his wits, Mr. Levine finally checked his frequencies and centered the microphone. “Alpha… Alpha… This is Meraton. Come in, please.”

It was 20 seconds before the small speaker hissed static, “Dennis, is that you?”

“Yes, of course it’s me. Who else would it be?”

“There must be sunspots or something this morning
, Dennis. Your voice sounds odd, and I’m not catching every word.”

“Never mind that, Phil. I have a very important message for Diana and Nick. Are you ready?”

“Please repeat that, Dennis. The message broke up. All I heard was ‘Important,’ and ‘Diana and Nick.’ What’s going on?”

“Look, I’ve had a helluva morning already, my friend. I had armed men in my house. They’re in Meraton. They almost shot my neighbor. They’re from the Beltran ranch, and Mr. Beltran has a serious problem. He needs help. He needs food for his cattle, and a ton of it. Pete wanted to know if Nick or Diana had any ideas on how to help.”

The Meraton broadcaster waited on his friend in Alpha to respond, but he never did. Mr. Levine hailed his counterpart again. “Alpha? Alpha? Are you there?”

No response.

Checking the lights on the various electrical components, Mr. Lavine noticed one critical lamp was no longer glowing with power. “Damn it! That’s the piece that got knocked on the floor.”

Forgetting all about the message, Dennis immediately moved to unplug the malfunctioning box and then headed to his garage with the hope of repair dominating his thoughts.

Phil looked at what he had written down, no longer craving coffee or more sleep. Anxiety caused his hand to shake the pencil as he mentally reviewed the unusual transmission. Something was
really wrong in Meraton, and he needed to find Diana or Nick.

Thoughts of combing his hair, putting on socks, or brushing his teeth forgotten, Phil rushed from his home on South 4
th
and headed directly for the church six blocks away.

There were several residents already awake and milling about, a few of them greeting Phil as he rushed by. The radio operator ignored his neighbors; panic welling as he worried that his friend Dennis was in serious trouble.

Pushing through the front doors of the church, Phil was relieved to find Diana and Nick talking just inside the lobby. “Nick! Diana! Meraton is under attack! I just received a transmission from Dennis, and now he’s off the air.”

“What? What do you mean
by, ‘They’re under attack’?”

Holding out his paper, the anxious messenger showed Nick the words. “See? See here. Dennis’ words were breaking up. I kept hearing pops that might have been gunshots, but look at what I did hear. ‘Armed men in my house… Meraton… Help… Beltran ranch… Help… Ton… Men.’”

Diana asked, “Can you verify his message? Can’t you get any more information?”

“He went off the air after this. He’s neither broadcasting, nor receiving.”

Nick looked at Diana, Alpha’s Mayor responding immediately. “They came to our aid when things looked hopeless. Gather up as many men as you can. Use the emergency gasoline supply, and go help them, Nick.”

The big man nodded, “On my way.”

Reaching for the ever-present radio on his belt, Nick began transmitting instructions before he reached the door.

Nick looked out over the multitude of men gathering for the trip to Meraton, the football field at Alpha High School an ant mound of bustling activity. Men hurried here and there, taking instructions from their team leaders and making sure equipment was ready and stowed in the proper places. Motor noise, shouted orders, and banging equipment accented the visual image of what amounted to a small army preparing to move. Trucks and vehicles of every description delivered both men and materials while volunteers waved arms and shouted orders to control the flow of traffic.

The gathering of men and machines being assembled for the mission was impressive, especially given the size of the town. Deke had even offered up four of his men to help.

Nick looked up to see
Terri approaching the field, a rifle slung over her shoulder, and a determined look on her face.

“And just what do you think you’re doing
, young lady?”

“I’m going to help. Bishop isn’t well enough yet, but we intend to pull our weight – just like everyone else.”