Bishop's Song (16 page)

Frank nodded and took the lead,
stepping toward the mailbox. Bishop hung back, continuing to scan their surroundings, wary of the noise.

Frank’s voice called out toward the house. “Matt! Matt! It’s Frank. Matt, are you up?”

Bishop looked at his watch, doubting the man was awake three hours before sunrise. He was wrong. A voice sounded close by, causing both travelers to jump. “Frank,” the tone low and mean, “who’s that with you?”

“Matt, it’s okay… that’s Bishop
, and I brought him here to talk with you. He’s a white hat.”

An outline appeared from the shadow of the property’s fence line, the man’s movement cautious and slow. Bishop remained still, not wanting to cause an incident.
I’d be a little jumpy too if I had unannounced visitors in the middle of the post-apocalyptic night
, he considered.  

“The dogs started growling ten minutes ago,” Matt stated. “I knew someone was fucking around. What the hell are you doing here, Frank?”

“I’m on a mission to rescue someone up in Tennessee,” Bishop declared, taking a step closer to the two men. “Frank convinced me you might have information that could help us pull it off. Maybe save some lives.”

“Well
, hell’s bells… this is just weird you two showing up like this… but all right. Come on in.” And with that, the homeowner spun away and strode back up the drive without another comment. Bishop and Frank followed.

As the trio
paced to the back of the house, Matt pointed toward the chained German shepherd that had sounded the alarm. “Fritz doesn’t like the apocalypse. Before the shit hit the fan, he ran free, but now I have to keep him chained, or some damn fool will have him for lunch.”

Before entering the screened back porch, Matt stopped, spinning to stare at Frank. “Are you sure this guy’s okay, Uncle
Frank? You know me. I never was much of a social butterfly, and I’m even less now. Before I invite him into my home, I gotta ask.”

“I’ll vouch for him,
Matt. He’s good people.”

Again eyeing Bishop up and down, Matt made up his mind. “Come on in,” he grunted.

After stepping through the door, the homeowner bent and retrieved a candle. Using a disposable lighter, he struck a flame to the wick. The entire porch was cast in a warm glow, revealing over a dozen bushel baskets full of food.

Bishop was amazed at the collection, spying apples, walnuts, several different types of roots and two large bundles of what appeared to be
cattails. Noticing his scrutinizing gaze, Matt commented, “When I bought this place years ago, old man Prichard kept a small orchard running. After he passed away in 2010, I kind of let it go. For a few years, I think most of the fruit rotted on the ground, but not anymore. The apples just ripened three days ago. I would guess there’s another four or five bushel left.”

Amazing
, thought Bishop.
I never thought about orchards
.

“You’ve got enough here to start your own market. I’ve seen that done before. It’s how my people back home
initiated recovery,” the Texan observed.

Matt digested the remark for a moment and then smiled. “I suppose it’s been that way for thousands of years. When men with land harvested more than they could eat, they took their excess into town to sell.
It’s too bad that won’t work here. If I loaded up a bunch of food, someone would try and take it from me. Someone would die.”

Bishop grinned,
now flattered over Frank’s earlier comparison with his nephew. “In that case, the people in the town probably starved until they changed their ways. Without security, nothing happens.”

Matt evidently decided not to delve into historical social development, especially three hours before dawn.
“My Gloria knows how to can food, so I’m hoping by winter we’ll have more than enough,” Matt continued. “Last winter she and my kids about starved to death. Even Fritz was getting all ‘ribby’ and weak. I intend to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“I’m impressed,” Bishop stated. “I sure hope you can keep
a low profile. You’re still pretty close to town.”

Matt
waved his hand in the air, the gesture pointing back at Martinsville. “Oh, hell no. Those scarecrows back in town ain’t going to give me any shit. Hell, half of ‘em don’t have the strength to walk out here and carry a weapon at the same time. The other half is too damned stupid to worry about. I’m more uptight about random stragglers than that bunch of zombie-brains in Martinsville.”

Bishop
chuckled at the description, and then decided to get down to business. “Frank here tells me you were in the army, assigned to Operation Heartland.”

Matt nodded, “I was an MP with the 377
th
. My stint was up a long time ago, but they weren’t letting anyone out or issuing any leaves. I just left. Some might say deserted, but I had my discharge papers a week before everything fell apart. My CO knew I was headed home. He didn’t lift a finger to stop me.”

Bishop
replied, “We want to drive across to Tennessee in a truck, extract a friend’s family members and bring them back across. What can we expect?”

Matt snorted, “I expect you all would die. No one uses private
vehicles in these parts. All civilians with gasoline were ordered to surrender their fuel months ago. Unless you’re a farmer or an engineer with orders, only military units are on the ground.”

The news confirmed Bishop’s worst fears
; they would stand out like sore thumbs. “That’s not good news. I was afraid things might have degraded to that point.” Nodding toward the baskets of food spread across the back porch, Bishop continued, “You mentioned farmers. How do they move their goods around?”

“I’ve seen horse-drawn wagons, families carrying baskets on poles across their shoulders… you name it. A few of the really big outfits have special permits
for trucks, but it’s rare to see one. The only cars on the road belong to the military or are government sedans.”

“Shit,” Bishop muttered, pacing a few steps in thought. “How would you do it? How would you get across the area they control? Could we fly over it?”

Matt motioned to a cluster of chairs at the end of the overhang. After the men were seated, he continued, “You can’t fly; the airspace has an exclusion. While I never saw any fighters, the Air Force boys are pretty busy shuttling things around, so there must be radar and controllers.”

“Trains, planes
, and automobiles,” Bishop grumbled, “there has to be a way.”

“No trains either. Lots of boat traffic
on the rivers, a lot of people walking.”

“Could we fake orders somehow? What’s the procedure?”

Matt gave Bishop’s last idea a bit of consideration before answering. Finally, shaking his head, he replied, “I don’t think that would work. You’ve got to understand things are clamped down pretty tight. Officers have full authority for field trials and summary executions. I bet I saw a hundred looters executed in the last four months. Same goes with deserters. Discipline is harsh – zero tolerance. If I were at a checkpoint, and you approached carrying men, supplies and guns, I’d verify your orders before letting you pass.”

Frank broke his silence, “I’ve heard rumors it was bad. I bet there is quite a riff between the civilians and the
army.”

“Oh
, the people hate the military and the government, despise them with a passion. It actually goes both ways. Most of the guys in uniform aren’t overly fond of their countrymen these days.”

“Americans aren’t
accustomed to totalitarian rule. I bet the lack of food and freedom is going to cause tempers to boil over at some point,” Bishop added.

Matt shook his head, “It varies from area to area and how well each commander is handling things.
When the military first rolled into our town, people were so desperate, they bought into the government’s story. The promise of food, electrical power and rule of law made a lot of folks toe the line. Starvation is a powerful motivator. But the process is taking too long. I was stationed outside of Memphis, and the general commanding our region promised electrical power would be restored in two months. The army lost a lot of credibility after four months had passed, and no juice flowed through the lines. The same bullshit predictions were made about food, too. The situation’s a little better than it was when my family and I first came back, but not much. Let’s just say Weight Watchers isn’t doing a robust business in this market, that’s for sure.”

Bishop grinned at the bad joke, a little ashamed he found it humorous given they were talking about their fellow countrymen, family, friends and neighbors. “There has to be a way
to get across,” he finally observed.

Matt exhaled and leaned back in his chair, clearly deep in thought. “Maybe I’m painting to
o bleak a picture. You might be able to slide through, if you avoid the major cities. The army can’t be everywhere at once. They’re concentrated within the big towns and critical infrastructure projects, like the power plants and docks. If you avoided all of those, you might be able to make it. Crossing the Mississippi is still going to be a bitch, though. All of the bridges are tightly controlled.”

“Every river is probably going to be an issue,” Bishop
worried. “We didn’t think this was going to be a walk in the park, but it’s sounding more and more like an impossibility.”

Matt considered the dilemma for a bit, finally brightening with a thought. “Do any of your guys look like me?”

Bishop lifted the candle from the table’s surface, holding the light to study Matt. “You know, now that you ask, you and Deke might be related. Why?”

“Hold on a second,” Matt replied, rising from his chair and disappearing into the home’s back door. A few moments later, he came out
carrying a military ID card and a wallet containing an MP’s badge and credentials. He passed the identification to Bishop.

Abandoning the candle for his flashlight, Bishop studied the pictures carefully. Looking up with a smile, he declared, “This just might work, especially given the date the cards were issued. Everybody looks different after what we’ve all been through. What would you want in
exchange for a complete disguise?”

Matt rubbed his chin, thinking long and hard about the barter. Finally coming to a conclusion, he
announced, “I want 1,000 rounds of 5.56 ammo, two pounds of canning paraffin, five pounds of salt, 100 broad-spectrum antibiotics, and the prettiest size seven dress you can find.”

Bishop pulled a notepad from a zipper compartment on his vest. Without comment or emotion, he jotted down Matt’s list and then looked up. “I think I can do this, but some of the items I’m not sure about. I’ll do my best and be back here in two days. If you don’t like what I bring, then the deal
’s off. In the meantime, I would like to leave you a map. If you can note units, deployments, strength… as complete a scouting report as possible, I might be able to throw in a bonus.”

Looking around at the still
dark backyard, Matt indicated his agreement with Bishop’s request. “I can take out some time from harvesting in the orchard to complete the report. I’ll see you in two days.”

As the two visitors stood to leave, Bishop turned back to Matt and offered his hand. After the men exchanged the handshake, Bishop paused
as if he’d forgotten something.

“I assume the dress
is for your wife? I mean, you’d never fit in a size 7.”

Laughing, Matt said, “Yes, it’s for my wife. Her favorite color is
blue.”

Petit Jean State Park, Arkansas

July 6, 2016

Bishop heard the plane’s motor before his radio squawked. Before he could press
to talk, the bird zoomed low over the runway, Deke’s smiling face peering out the passenger side window as Bishop flipped his middle finger at the passing aircraft.

“We are good to go,” Bishop responded, feeling a bit like a
supporting character in a spy movie using the pre-agreed phrase. If he had said anything else, Hugh wouldn’t land.

Walking off the center of the runway, he gave the pilot plenty of room… just in case. The ex-Air Force man put the wheel
s down gently and rolled to a stop a few minutes later following Bishop’s waving arm to pull close to the airfield’s sole building.

“What’s up, Slick?” Deke greeted as he exited the plane. “Did you get us accommodations at the local Four Seasons?”

Bishop pretended to check his watch, managing to keep his voice deadpan, “Yes, I’ve got the presidential suite reserved, and I think you’ll find it adequate, sir. We’d better hurry though, I have booked your massage appointment at the spa to begin in 30 minutes.”

Deke laughed as he moved toward the cargo hold of the plane. “I hope she’s one of those Asian back-walker types. They always give the best rub
downs.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I scheduled your session with Vito, the
testosterone-charged, hairy ex-linebacker. I thought you preferred a more vigorous encounter.”

And so it went, back and forth, while the men unloaded the plane’s cargo. Hug
h, wisely, remained above the exchange, obviously focused on getting his airplane back in the air as soon as possible.

Two 50-
gallon drums of fuel came off first, quickly followed by cases of ammunition, food and other supplies. All of the load was rolled, carried or shoved to be stored in the small reception area.

“Okay, that’s it,” announced the pilot. “Terri sends her love. Your son is doing fine. Nick wants you to keep your head and your ass low
er. That’s all of the messages I was supposed to deliver.”

Bishop dug in his pocket, producing a slip of paper with a neatly written list of items. “Hug
h, get this list to Nick and Terri when you get back. There’s been a slight modification to the plan, and we’re going to need these objects. Please tell Terri I love her and that I’m doing just fine. It’s safe here for the time being.”

The pilot scanned the list, twice glancing up with a questioning look but never saying a word. “Will do,” was his only response
, and then he was climbing back into the aircraft.

Deke and Bishop watched him take off, both men experiencing a small pang in their gut
s as their lifeline to home and safety slowly disappeared into the distance.

“So what’s the situation here?” Deke asked.

“I’ve made friends with the locals, gathered Intel on our destination and can even offer you a roof over your head tonight.”

“Well
, what the fuck have you been doing all this time, slacker? Lord in heaven, this ain’t a pleasure cruise, ya know,” Deke teased.

“Come on, I’ll introduc
e you to the locals. If you’re nice, they won’t eat you. I’d put it at 50-50 you’ll see tomorrow’s dawn.”

Deke grinned, “What more can a man ask for
?”

Bishop wanted to show Deke the truck, now
pulled close to the airfield. As the two men approached what would essentially be their home and base of operations for several days, Bishop produced his best used car salesman’s voice, “Yes-sir-ee, she’s low mileage, she is. Good rubber, runs smooth as a baby’s butt. Only driven by a little old lady to church on Sundays. I bet this here pick’em up truck’s never been over 40 mile per hour in its young life.”

The newly arrived contractor played along, walking around the truck like he was seriously considering a purchase. He even kicked one of the tires. “But I was hoping for something a little brighter color.”

Deke peered inside, spotting the bundle of hanging wires below the steering column. “Let me guess,” he grinned. “It has a salvage title.”

“I salvaged it all right,” Bishop replied. “We can put it back with a note about the damage after we’re through if it will make you feel better.”

Deke’s reply was interrupted, the operator’s rifle snapping to his shoulder as he dropped into a crouching position, ready to engage. Bishop was a little slower, moving beside his partner and covering the opposite direction. A voice called out from the woods, “Bishop! Bishop, it’s Frank. I saw the plane. Is everything all right?”

“It’s cool,”
Bishop informed the now-alert contractor. “Remember, behave yourself or you might end up in the stew.”

“Come on in, Frank,” Bishop yelled toward the woods.

A few moments later, Frank appeared, paired with one of the other rangers. Bishop motioned for Deke to follow, immediately introducing the new arrival.

“Lunch is about ready,” Frank
announced. “I thought I would see if you gents needed any help storing your supplies, but I see we are too late.”

As the four men headed for the lodge, Deke asked, “What’s this change of plans you mentioned to Hug
h, and how badly am I going to think it sucks?”

“Oh, you’ll love it. Have you ever played a law enforcement officer on TV?”

Snorting, Deke replied, “No, but if I’m being sworn to uphold the law, you know my first act will be to arrest
you
for grand theft auto.”

Alpha, Texas

July 6, 2016

“He
wants what?” Terri exclaimed, a mixture of shock and anger in her voice.

“A dress,” Hugh replied, nervous
about being the messenger. “Size seven, blue, if possible. The nicest in town.”

“Let me see that note,” Terri replied, moving Hunter to the opposite arm. After
reading down her husband’s list, her gaze returned to the shuffling pilot as if asking for an expanded explanation. “A dress? Wax? Hand cuffs or nylon restraints? What? Is my husband on a rescue mission or attending an orgy?”

“I’m sure Bishop has a good reason for the request,”
Hugh offered, flushing red with embarrassment.

“He better. Anyway, go to the church and ask one of the volunteers there to help you find a dress.
Don’t make it too pretty. I have no idea where to find canning wax, but Diana might know. Nick can take care of the rest of it.”

“Thank you, ma’am,”
Hugh responded, turning to leave. Before he could reach for the door, Terri stopped him.

Softly, almost in a whisper, she said, “
Hugh… seriously… please tell me… did Bishop really seem alright?”

Smiling, the pilot turned to face her. “Yes, as far as I could tell. I didn’t really talk to him much
. He and Deke were insulting each other and joking most of the time… in a good-natured way… I think. He seemed a little high strung, but who wouldn’t be?”

Terri took a step forward and put her hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she
responded softly. “Thank you so much. Please let me know if you have any trouble rounding up the items on that list.”

She watched the pilot leave her office, and then
gazed down at the round, cherubic face of her child. “Let me tell you something about your father,” she began. “He vents stress by spewing horrible puns and sometimes inappropriate innuendo. That’s how he copes. Some of the people you encounter in life will become deadpan serious during an emergency, others simply fall apart. You, my sweet child, have been blessed with a dad who tells bad jokes. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s old and set in his ways. I think you’ll still love him. I do.”

Terri smiled down at Hunter’s lack of reaction, the infant seemingly happy to stare at his mother’s adoring face. “You know what is even worse? I’ve started doing it too. It’s contagious or something.
You poor thing; you’ll probably be cursed with the same terrible coping mechanism.”

A light rap at the door drew her attention back to the portal, Diana’s face peeking in. “Oh, good,” she began, “I didn’t want to interrupt Alpha’s newest citizen
during his lunch or nap time.”

“He finished a little bit ago, come on in.”

Diana set a stack of papers on Terri’s already cluttered desk before walking over to smile at the baby. “Did you know we’re producing wine now?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, I had no idea Texas had wineries, but we do. They’re just on the eastern edge of our territory, and joined our little coalition a few days ago.”

Terri grinned, “I’ll have to sample some
local vino once young Hunter here is eating solid food. Until then, it’s a no-go for me.”

“Hey, I have a question that’s probably going to sound a little weird. When Hunter is hungry, does it bother you at all… having to expose your
chest in public?”

Terri grunted, “I’ve been exposing my boob in public for a long time… right now he’s on a mission someplace in Arkansas.”

Diana laughed and then waved a finger in the air, “No fair picking on Bishop when he’s not here to defend himself. You’re bothered by his request for a dress, aren’t ya?”

“No,” Terri replied, looking down at her post-partum figure. “I’m bothered by the size seven.”

Both of the girls laughed at the remark, then moved toward Terri’s desk. Diana’s tone became serious, pointing at the stack of reports. “The latest attempt to get the natural gas electric plant up and running failed… again. Midland Station is complaining that they’re not receiving their fair share of lumber. Pete, as usual, wants to throw a party. Our treasurer is worried that the economy is growing so fast we’re going to run out of currency soon. And the best news yet… the telephone guys think they’ll have all of our towns connected via landline within two weeks. No word yet on the cell towers.”

After finishing the data
dump, Diana studied her friend. She could tell Terri’s mind was elsewhere, and she couldn’t blame her. “You’re worried about Bishop, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am… again. It’s okay though, he had to go do this. I just
hope everything turns out as planned. I can’t picture my future as a single mom. I want his influence on Hunter.”

“I agree,” Diana replied, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “When you put
the baby down, why don’t we get one of the ladies to watch him, and I’ll take you to lunch at Alpha’s newest bistro. It’s over on Walnut Street and is called ‘The Garden of Eden.’ I hear they have a chicken and pasta dish that’s to die for.”

“Sounds great. And thanks
, Diana. Thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

“He’ll be fine, Terri. Bishop is just one of those guys you know is going to come back, no matter what.”

Petit Jean State Park, Arkansas

July 7, 2016

Right on schedule, the static on Bishop’s radio was again interrupted with Hugh’s voice. This time Grim sat in the passenger seat as the plane flew low over the landing strip. This time Bishop and Deke mooned the plane.

“I hope no one from the lodge was watching that,” Deke said as he buckled his belt. “They might wonder about your sexual practices.”

“I think they already are as far as you’re concerned,” Bishop shot back.

Hugh’s landing was a bit bumpy this time, but before long the aircraft rolled to a stop next to the hangar. Grim, smiling with relief at being back on solid ground, was greeted by his boss.

“Welcome to
Hairy Ass, Arkansas. I’m Glute,” he said and then pointed at Bishop, “and this is Max.”

“
I had to look twice before I realized you guys had your pants down. It was hard to tell the difference.” replied the new arrival.

Bishop grunted, moving toward the cargo hold. “If you two are done with your juvenile shenanigans, we need to get this aircraft unloaded.”

Laughing at Bishop’s sudden highbrow demeanor, Deke observed, “You had your pants down, too, brother.”

“I thought it was some
secret signal between you elite operators… like a cloak and dagger handshake or something.”

Hugh joined in, helping carry a box into the storage area. “I got everything on your list, Bishop. A lady who owns a candle shop in
Meraton provided the wax. The rest was easy. Nick raised hell over the extra 1,000 rounds of ammo, but other than that…”

“And
Terri found a little blue dress?”

A pained looked
flashed across the pilot’s face, his expression a mixture of not knowing how to respond and not wanting to. “Well… she did send something.”

Bishop laughed, patting Hugh on the back. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.
Here’s what you can tell her.” And then Bishop explained to Hugh and the rest of the team what the plan was.

After he’d finished, Deke whistled
. “Man. It sounds like the world has really gone to hell. But I like the plan. That might just work.”