The Directives (20 page)

“I don’t think so,” replied the now-shaky voice. “I think you’re by yourself and are trying to bluff your way out of this. Why don’t you throw down your pistol and get out of the truck? Then we can talk.”

Bishop’s eye was drawn to a shadow behind Jimmy. If the kid hadn’t been pointing a rifle a Bishop’s head, he might have felt sorry for the young man.

Another high-pitched voice sounded from the back of the truck. “C’mon, Jimmy… just shoot him, and let’s take his stuff. He’s just another trespassing bum who’ll probably try and steal our food and guns anyway.”

But Jimmy didn’t answer. His eyes were wide as saucers because Grim’s fighting knife was across the lad’s throat.

While Bishop couldn’t hear what Grim whispered in the boy’s ear, he had a pretty good idea. The rifle lowered slowly until it was pointing at the ground. A slight “thud” announced its impact with the turf.

“Guys. Guys. I… errrr… I think you should come over here,” Jimmy stammered.

“What’s wrong Ji…,” one of the others started to ask as the youths rounded the truck. Jimmy’s problem was obvious - he had a very nasty-looking new acquaintance.

“Both of you! Drop your weapons, or I’ll slice off this one’s head and shit down his throat. Go on now. Put ’em down.”

But they didn’t. Bishop had to hand it to the youths – they had mustard. Again, with weapons pointed at Grim and his captive, they moved to flank their target. Bishop decided to add to their tactical difficulties.

Opening the truck door, he emerged still holding the pistol, but with both palms up and signaling for calm.

“My name is Bishop, and I’m a Texas Ranger. We’re here to see if the town of Riley needs help. Parts of the state are in a full-blown recovery.”

“Bullshit!” the kid responded. “Anybody could say that. Why would the Rangers come here after all this time? You’re a liar.”

Despite the cockiness of the response, Bishop could tell his little account had partially resonated with the young male’s mind, seeding doubt.

“Tell you what,” Bishop said. “We’ll turn your friend loose. We’ll even let him keep his weapon. You guys back out of here, and fetch whoever is in charge. Tell them we’ll meet them on the edge of town to talk… and only talk.”

Even in the dim light, Bishop could spot the kid’s eyes darting back and forth… first Grim, then his hostage, and finally the guy making this unexpected offer.

“Look, son, I don’t take kindly to being called a liar,” Bishop said, his voice near a whisper. “I let that go. I heard you suggest shooting me and stealing my food. I’ve cut men in half for less than that. I’m making the rare exception here. Take advantage of it, and live another day. I’ve only got so much charity flowing through my veins.”

“Okay… but… but… you let Jimmy go.”

Bishop nodded at Grim, who pulled away the knife and gave the kid a gentle shove towards his friends. He immediately reached down and grabbed the discarded rifle, working the bolt until it was empty. He handed the weapon over and growled, “You can have your ammo back tomorrow – if
your stupid ass lives that long.”

Jimmy took the long gun and stepped closer to his friends. They started backing out when Bishop stopped them. “Wait. I was telling the truth. We’re really here to help. Can you have whoever is in charge meet me at the edge of town just after daybreak?”

“That would be my uncle, Shane,” Jimmy responded. “He’s been the big dog in Riley since the mayor died. I’ll give him the message.”

Bishop nodded, and then added, “Jimmy, tell him there are more of us than just the two you see here. Advise him not to get any clever ideas. Even if he got lucky, and took out my team, hundreds of other men would follow, and they’re not nearly as nice as I am. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I do. I’ll tell him.”

Bishop and Grim watched the threesome fade back into the night, the cat’s eyes indicating that they followed the same path out as they had used coming in.

“Do you think that was a good idea… letting them go so they could warn the others?” Grim asked.

Bishop grunted, “You’re always such the optimist, Grim. That’s what I like about you.”

“You may be right; you may be wrong. You’ve given away the element of surprise, and I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

Bishop stared off in the direction of the town, knowing Grim had a valid point. “Our purpose is to save people, Grim. Not wipe them out. If we wanted to bulldoze down that village, then you’re spot on. But that’s not what we’re here to do. Besides, I don’t think shooting the youth of Riley would endear us to their leadership. We didn’t have many diplomatic choices here.”

“That’s why you’re running this show,” Grim responded, his voice friendly. “I lost all my tact and social graces years ago. Besides, that kid was skinny as a beanpole. He only had three shells in a rifle that holds five, and the bolt didn’t feel well oiled, so I don’t think we’re up against a well-tooled fighting machine. Least I hope not, because now they know we’re coming.”

The weeds were approaching Jimmy’s waist as he crossed the yard. For a moment, he recalled the smell of freshly mowed grass, a chore that once commanded most of the lad’s Saturday mornings. “
Maybe there are some positive aspects to the apocalypse,”
he mused.

The flickering light from the kitchen window answered his next question. Shane was awake, probably cursing up a storm over his lack of cigarettes. In the morning, his mood was always foul without his nicotine-induced, tobacco fix. In the evening, it was the lack of beer that elicited yet another string of curses. The thought evoked a grunt from Jimmy. There hadn’t been any smokes or brew for over a year, and still his uncle bitched and moaned about it almost every day.

“Shane, it's Jimmy. Coming in,” he yelled halfway across the yard-turned-pasture. These days, it wasn’t good to surprise anybody.

He entered the back door and leaned his rifle against the wall. Before he could say anything, his uncle spoke up. “You’re back early. Did you guys get a hog already?”

“No, we ran into some strangers before we even got to our hunting spot.”

Shane immediately went on alert. “Everybody okay? What strangers? Where?”

The answer came rushing out of Jimmy’s mouth. “We heard their truck down by the old Wheeler place. We tried to sneak up on them, but they caught us. This guy… his name was Bishop or something like that. He said he was a Texas Ranger and was coming to Riley to see if we needed help. He wants to talk to you at the edge of town after the sun comes up.”

Shane held up his hand to silence his nephew. Drawing a pistol from his belt, he peeked out the blinds toward the backyard. “Are you sure they didn’t track you back here?”

“Shane, they had no reason to follow me. They had plenty of food and gas cans in the back of their truck. I think this guy was telling the truth.”

“Do ya now?”

“They could have killed us easy. One of them got the drop on me from behind. He had his knife right here,” Jimmy said, pointing to his neck. “But they let us go. Even let me keep my rifle. If they were raiders or hobos, they wouldn’t have let me keep the gun.”

Shane had to think about that statement for a minute. The kid had a point. “How many of them were there?”

“We counted two, but Bishop said to tell you that he had more men – just in case you had any thoughts about being… what was the word? Oh, yeah, ‘clever.’ I believe him. They had bulletproof vests and battle rifles. When the big guy had a knife at my throat, I felt a bunch of clips on his vest.”

The older man started to ask another question, but then paused. After another glance out the window, he began pacing the kitchen floor.

“What type of truck did they have?” he finally asked.

“It was just a regular looking, pickup truck. One of those newer models with two rows of seats. There was a camper shell over the bed, but the tailgate was down. That’s where I saw all the supplies and gear.”

“So it wasn’t an Army truck or a Humvee?”

“No. But… the truck was clean, Shane. That’s how we spotted it so easily. It sparkled in the starlight, chrome wheels and all. It looked brand new. Who squanders water washing a pickup? Who would waste the soap?”

“Did they wear uniforms?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t tell what the patches said.”

Again, Shane began pacing, his hand scratching the full beard at his chin.

“Go and roust the Herbert twins. Then go over to Walt’s place and have all of his clan meet me at the gas station. Rustle up as many of the rats as you can. Hurry now. Have them come quick. I’ll be waiting for our visitors at the Shell station. Have them meet me there.”

“What are you going to do, Shane?”

“Go on now,” the older man snapped, not wanting to admit he didn’t really have a plan. “There’s no time to gab. Get going.”

Bishop’s earpiece sounded with Kevin’s voice. “I have a clear field of fire all the way to the brick building to the east. I can cover you as long as you stay between that structure and the gas station.”

“Got it,” Bishop responded. “How secure is your position?”

“I’m up in a tree with Cory patrolling around this little slice of woods. There are 500 meters of open field on all sides, so no one can get close to us. We’re secure.”

“Okay. So this is going to happen just like we practiced. If Grim and I go prone, start shooting. If I drop my hat, start shooting. If you see people trying to sneak up on us, or a large number of armed people trying to flank us, I need to know. Other than that, you will have to use your judgment. You’ll do fine. Good luck.”

“Yes, sir. My dad told me before we left that I was to make sure you got home okay. I won’t let you down.”

Funny
, Bishop thought.
Nick said the exact same thing to me about you
.

The sun had fully cleared the horizon, announcing what appeared to be a clear, sizzling hot day. Glancing at Grim, Bishop questioned, “Are you ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

And with that, the two men began hiking toward the distant berg.

Bishop had selected a chest-rig full of magazines for this first encounter. With a blowout bag (medical kit), 12 full pillboxes, and fighting knife, his choice of kit wasn’t good for anything other than combat. A Camelbak full of water and small bag of jerked beef were his only survival supplies.

Grim took one side of the road, Bishop the other. Taking the lead, the ex-contractor stayed 10 feet in front of Bishop, eating up the distance with a steady pace.

Ragweed, grass and a variety of overgrowth bordered the two-lane state highway leading into town. Bishop didn’t like it, but they really didn’t have much choice. Kevin, their over watch, would have seen anyone setting up an ambush. Or so he hoped.

The foliage began to thin as the two approached the first buildings, Mother Nature a little less successful reclaiming the concrete and asphalt associated with sidewalks and vacant lots. Bishop was glad, their vantage improving with every step.

A pre-collapse atlas from the library in Midland Station had given the team a good indication of the community’s layout, the primary residential section on the far side of downtown. Riley had one main street, two churches, three gas stations, one school, and a handful of small businesses.

The first structure along their route was the Shell station, a weather-faded sign advertising DVD rentals
available in the convenience store.