Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (60 page)

Pete looked to Bonnie, who replied with a shrug as if to say, “It’s your game. So he turned to Charlie and said, “Sure, we’d love to eat and talk, but I’ve got a truck load with supplies that I’d really like to keep. Do I have your word that nothing from my truck will be taken?” asked Pete.

Charlie looked Pete in the eye and nodded, “You have my word . . . my personal promise and guarantee . . . that you’ll leave here with everything you came with but more, because we’ll feed you,” replied Charlie, with a smile

C
harlie waved to an unseen face in the parking lot, and Pete watched as a golf cart pulled out and stopped in front of his truck. The little cart looked puny sitting in front of Pete’s large, diesel-powered dually, but he thought it was a pretty good idea for getting around the neighborhood. Charlie walked over to the men standing in the parking lot and exchanged a few brief words that Pete was unable to hear. Charlie made several hand and arm gestures, and then left the men to resume their checkpoint operations. Pete figured he probably put someone else in charge, at least that’s what it looked like to him. After patting the man on the back, Charlie walked to the golf cart and climbed into the passenger side. With another arm gesture, Charlie waved at Pete to follow him.

“Do you have your mental map activated?” Pete asked Bonnie. “I’d hate to get turned around in here if we had to make a quick exit.”

“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” said Bonnie, “they seem like really nice folks.”

“You say that after meeting only one person?” asked Pete.

“He seems to be in charge. Besides, you’re only saying that because of what we’ve been through. I have a good feeling about this place, so please try to relax,” said Bonnie.

“I’ll relax when we’re at John’s,” mumbled Pete. He followed the golf cart at a blistering twenty-three miles-per-hour. He saw a few people walking the neighborhood streets, couples mostly, but also a lot of kids, which actually surprised him. He grunted and said, “They either have really good security here, or they’re overconfident idiots,” said Pete.

Bonnie ignored his comment and looked out the window, so Pete settled in for the slow, quiet drive to the school. Several homes were lit up and he wondered how they were getting electricity, but when he lowered his window, Pete heard the unmistakable sound of gasoline generators. Still, generators needed fuel, and he wondered if the neighborhood had access to a plentiful fuel supply, like a gas station or fleet service center. It was either that, or they were being very careless with their resources.

The golf cart turned right at the first street, and took another at the next. As they wound their way through the neighborhood, Pete saw that many of the driveways and sidewalks had been shoveled clear of ash. The scene resembled something out of a black and white, Norman Rockwell photograph, but with ash instead of snow. The odd looking two vehicle convoy attracted little attention as it pulled to a stop in a parking lot of a large building in the center of the development. The sign in front of the building read, Travis Heights Elementary School.

Bonnie pointed and said, “He’s waving for you to park over there. I think he wants you to park in front of the school . . . in the bus lane over there.”

“Got it,” replied Pete, as he maneuvered the truck around the cart to park along the curb.

As soon as Pete stopped, Charlie approached the truck. He rested an arm on the truck’s door and said, “Your truck, and everything in it, will be safe here. I told my boy to stand guard. He’s a good kid, very responsible and capable. Your stuff will be safe when we’re inside.”

Pete turned to inspect the kid from a distance. He was about as tall as his dad, but thinner. Armed with a shotgun, the young man looked capable of guarding a truck, but Pete knew that having a weapon didn’t make someone a guard. The kid stared back without flinching, or smiling. Pete shrugged and turned the truck off. “OK. And how do you feel about me being armed?” asked Pete.

“It’s perfectly fine. Almost everyone around here is armed. We’ve reached a . . . well, an understanding with the neighborhood
management,” replied Charlie. He turned to look at his boy who was just leaning himself against the truck’s rear fender. “Josh, stand alert!” snapped Charlie, in a commanding but fatherly tone. “Walk around the truck until I get back. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the young man, as he walked to the back of the truck.

“Yup,” continued Charlie, as if never interrupted, “that’s the best way I can describe it, an understanding.” Charlie slapped his hand on Pete’s truck door and said with a smile, “Well then, follow me . . . it’s time to eat.”

Bonnie grabbed her purse, out of habit more than anything, and Pete locked the truck. They followed Charlie to the school doors, and Pete paused for a step when he saw the Texas State, 30.06 weapons statute poster displayed prominently in the window. Charlie just managed to catch Pete’s momentary hesitation and said, with a snort, “Yup, that sign makes just about everyone pause on their first steps in the school house. It doesn’t mean anything anymore. It’s actually funny when you think about it, how law abiding citizens with no criminal record could carry a concealed handgun, but they weren’t allowed to carry them into public schools. You would think that’s the one place where responsibly armed people would be welcome. Maybe then all those crazy child-killers wouldn’t target schools. If you ask me, that restriction was little more than an invitation for them to bring their guns to school and kill children.”

Pete grunted and said, “Yup, the world was crazy then, but it’s even crazier now.”

“Did you have a concealed carry license before the disaster?” asked Charlie.

“I did,” said Pete, “but it doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

“Not to our committee,” replied Charlie. “If you had a license it means you can shoot.”

It was Pete’s turn to snort, “Perhaps.”

As they neared the gymnasium the level of noise increased exponentially. To Pete, it sounded like any typical school cafeteria at
lunchtime, except this crowd was composed mostly of adults. People filled the cafeteria to capacity. All folding tables, and every available seat and chair was occupied, to include the stage, with people eating their dinner. Pete had to raise his voice to be heard over the noise. “Wow, it looks like the entire neighborhood is here,” he said.

“Not quite. We feed in shifts, by streets, actually, but it is a lot of people. We have close to thirteen hundred homes in our development,” said Charlie.

Pete’s eyebrows went up. “Wow, that’s a lot of mouths to feed. How do you manage it?”

“It is, but I’ll explain in a minute. Wait here. I’ll be right back,” said Charlie, with a pat to Pete’s shoulder as he walked away. Pete watched the man cross the cafeteria floor and approach a small group of people sitting at a table in the far corner of the gym. A well-dressed, forty-something, Hispanic woman sat at the table with two older looking white men. They were talking among themselves while they studied some paperwork.

Charlie approached the table and stood near the woman without interrupting her. After several minutes the woman acknowledged Charlie’s presence, so he bent down to whisper something in her ear. Charlie pointed toward Pete and Bonnie, and the woman followed his line. She held her gaze upon them for an uncomfortably long period of time, and Charlie nodded to something she said.

“You think that’s the boss lady?” asked Pete, with dramatic rhetoric and a healthy dose of cynicism.

Bonnie snickered and said, “Behave yourself, Peter. I’m just as curious as you are.”

Charlie weaved his way back through the crowd, and when he reached them he said, “Mrs. Wright, the principle of Travis Elementary School, and President of the Travis Heights homeowners association, would like to meet with you for dinner. Can I tell her you’re available?”

Pete turned to Bonnie and they locked eyes, each lost in the moment, caught up in mute fascination over the absurdity of Charlie’s
demeanor and treatment of Mrs. Wright. Pete was familiar with military formality, especially among the officer corps, but this act seemed a little over the top, strange even. He wondered how the woman managed to hold such influence over Charlie. It was, like Bonnie had said, a very curious thing. Pete turned to Charlie and said, with a slight bow, “Please inform Mrs. Wright that we are at her disposal.”

As soon as Charlie turned to leave, Bonnie elbowed Pete in the ribs. “Knock it off, Pete. Please behave yourself,” she said in a harsh whisper.

“What? I didn’t do anything wrong,” said Pete, and managed to say it in a way that didn’t sound even remotely sincere.

“Look, she obviously takes her position very seriously, so please don’t patronize her. Lord knows what kind of trouble she could make for us if you piss her off,” said Bonnie, as she looked up at Pete with narrow eyes.

“Detention maybe?”

“Pete! I mean it! It’s not safe to trifle with that kind of . . . acceptable legitimacy,” said Bonnie. “Now please behave yourself.” Pete forced a smile and nodded toward Charlie. Bonnie turned and forced a smile of her own.

When Charlie returned, they followed him to the cafeteria line. Pete was expecting beans and rice, or maybe even soup and sandwiches, something modest. He definitely wasn’t prepared for the spread they had to offer. Pete was given a thick slice of ham, and another of turkey. Fresh carrots, mashed potatoes, several slices of white bread, a fruit pie, and a small carton of milk were also presented to him. He wondered if the school was trying to use up the last of its perishable rations, but then he realized that schools, especially elementary schools, didn’t serve this kind of food to their children, at least not schools he visited. He wondered where the food was coming from.

With food trays in hand, Charlie led them out the cafeteria-gym and down a wide hallway. After a few turns, Pete and Bonnie entered the teacher’s lounge behind Charlie. Mrs. Wright was already waiting
for them, and she politely stood when they entered the room. Pete saw that the same two men from the cafeteria were sitting on either side of her. On her right sat a pudgy, middle-aged man, who was mostly bald. He wore jeans, a tan corduroy blazer, and a light-blue, open collared shirt. To her left sat a man of average build who wore a maroon colored windbreaker and black running pants. He sported a head of thick gray hair, and equally impressive gray eyebrows. The two men ignored Pete and Bonnie when they entered the room. They were obviously not thrilled by their presence, and that put Pete on edge. He hated rude and pompous people; they made him very suspicious and guarded.

Charlie walked boldly into the room and sat his food tray on the table. Pete and Bonnie followed his lead and sat theirs near his. Mrs. Wright extended a hand and said, “It’s Pete, right? Pete and Bonnie?”

“That’s right. I’m Pete,” said Pete, “and this is Bonnie. Excuse me for being blunt, but this is all very strange to me,” he finished.

“What’s strange?” asked Mrs. Wright. She wrinkled her brow as if trying to better understand Pete’s concern.

“This!” said Pete. “If you want to talk . . . if you want us to be comfortable with you . . . why all the drama?”

“I told you this would be a waste of time,” said the bald man, as he stared hard at Charlie. “A meal for advice . . . hah!”

Mrs. Wright looked down at the man and said, “Bill, please be polite.” She looked at Pete and said, “Please excuse him, we’ve all been under a great deal of stress lately. Will you please sit and enjoy your meal.” Bonnie was the first to sit. Pete paused for a moment, as if to lend his own dramatic effect, and then lowered himself into a chair next to her.

“I don’t know what you folks want from us,” said Bonnie, “it already looks like you have everything you need.”

“It does indeed,” said Pete, “but we’ll help if we can.”

Mrs. Wright smiled and said, “Thank you. By the way, my name is Shelly.”

“So, Shelly, what exactly can we do for you?” asked Pete, as he stuffed a piece of ham into his mouth and began to chew. It was dry, but hot and tasty.

“Well, you’re right, we are doing pretty well for ourselves. We have plenty of food, at least for the time being. And the neighborhood has come together . . . much better than I thought it would have. But what we have in resources, we lack in experience, specifically military experience. We’ve been looking for someone who can help us protect ourselves . . . someone who can show us how set up security and defenses, or something like that,” said Shelly.

“You guys have a pretty good roadblock up on Harmon, so someone’s been giving you pretty good advice,” replied Pete.

“Yes, Charlie works at the BEP,” said Shelly, “That’s the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. Perhaps you saw it as you drove in, it’s that big, well-lit, compound just to the north of us.” She looked at Pete for a sign that he saw the place, but Pete ignored her and kept his attention focused on the plate of food in front of him. He wasn’t ready to play nice with Shelly, and Shelly apparently wasn’t used to being ignored. She studied Pete for a minute before continuing. “Anyway,” she said, “Charlie was on the BEPs security detail. Not the director of security, mind you, but he has been helpful in setting up the road blocks and establishing the roving guard details.”