Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (14 page)

John was surprised at the turn of events between Pete and Paul. He wasn’t quite sure what brought it about, or when it happened even. He didn’t think it was because Paul laughed at Pete’s joke, but it really didn’t matter. The point was, they were getting along now, and he was glad for it. If they were to fight together as a group, they absolutely had to trust each other. And laughing together was a very good sign that they were building trust.

CHAPTER 4

A
s they approached the meeting, John saw close to fifty people already gathered on the front yard and long driveway of the “water tower” house. People stood talking together in small groups of three and four, or individually, as they watched the new arrivals stroll up and settle in. Some folks brought their camp chairs, but most people just milled around, waiting for the meeting to begin. John was actually surprised at the turnout, having expected only a handful of people to turn out given the short notice of the meeting and disaster conditions. Apparently his neighbors were hungry for something, be it news, leadership, or food, but it was probably all three.

When John and Jenna first looked at homes in the neighborhood, the water-tower lot was still undeveloped. He actually liked the lot. It appealed to him because it sat in the northwest corner of the development, making it the farthest from the entrance. But the thought of having a public utility feature on their property didn’t appeal to Jenna. She worried that the large concrete and steel structure would cast a literal shadow on her gardening dreams, so they moved on.

The dark-green water tower stood out in stark contrast to the brown, barren and leafless trees that lined the property behind it. The chain-link fence that surrounded the base of the tower was overgrown with climbing weeds and vines that had long since died, making the tower look cheap and abandoned. John reasoned that that wasn’t far from the truth given the water tower was probably empty. He also saw that the tower did cast a formidable shadow across the back portion of the lot, and he was glad he listened to Jenna.

John couldn’t see the tower’s pump house from the road, but he knew it wasn’t running. Like the rest of the neighborhood, it fell silent when the power went out. And though the small, three-bedroom, ranch-style house near the base of the tower was handsome, and the yard around it well-maintained, the water tower made the entire lot feel cheap. But it did make for a good landmark. John didn’t know the owner of the house, but he was surprised that anyone would agree to hold such a meeting on their property. He figured there must be a really good reason for it, and couldn’t wait to hear what it was.

John scanned the unfamiliar faces around him, looking for potential threats, and he noticed Pete was doing the same. Paul, oblivious to their caution, waved and nodded to a few familiar faces, but few people responded in kind. John scanned the tower again, studying the top, looking for possible snipers. There was no threat of snipers, but old habits were hard to break. Being so heavily armed reminded him of walking the streets of Baghdad, and always having to be on the lookout for trouble, especially from high places. He saw what looked to be a short-wave radio antenna mounted to the tower railing, but no people.

He wondered about the possibilities of controlling such an elevated structure, that with a little work it could be made into an excellent observation post for the entire neighborhood OP. He snorted and shook his head. The residents of the development weren’t ready or willing to take steps to protect themselves. They didn’t even bother to arm themselves, which told John all he needed to know about their mindset.

The gathering was growing in numbers, and it was already bigger than anything John had ever seen in the neighborhood. He was actually surprised to see so many people, especially since the last three days of empty streets made the neighborhood feel like a ghost town. John actually thought many of his neighbors had left the area, but apparently they only locked themselves in their homes and waited for something to happen. That wouldn’t surprise him given the disaster conditions, it was the logical thing to do. But now that the ash was all
pretty much gone, John was certain they would expect the power to come back on.

When John and his companions reached the more densely packed area of meeting goers assembled near the driveway entrance, they began to hear low murmurs and sub-audible comments about their display of weapons. John ignored the comments, and marveled at people’s ignorance and discomfort with such a display, as if they carried poisonous snakes around their necks. John knew, from experience, that most people felt only cops and Soldiers should carry weapons in public, but that was a ridiculously naïve notion given the recent disaster change. It told him that people were still in denial, which was a very frightening prospect.

One middle-aged woman asked Pete if he was a police officer, but he wisely ignored her question and continued walking. For John, her question was a confirmation that his neighbors didn’t understand their rights, of the dangers that now existed around them.

John saw two guys, the same two that left the message in his mailbox, standing near the mail box. They were armed with hunting rifles and eyed John and his companions suspiciously as they approached. “I think those are the two guys we saw this morning,” whispered Pete.

“I think you’re right,” replied John, and they strode up to the men and stopped just outside of arms-reach.

“Wow, you guys are armed to the teeth,” said the man with the bolt-action rifle. He was tall and thin, twenty something, with an Asian look about him, and a scruffy beard with loop earrings. He looked to his partner when he spoke the first sentence, but turned to face John when he asked, “Should we expect any trouble from you guys?”

John’s first thought was to tell the scrawny punk to kiss his butt, but that was the old John. The new John smiled and said, “Why, because we’re armed? I could ask the same of you.”

The two men looked at each other and then back at John. “Mr. Marino gave us permission to be armed,” said the other man. He looked a bit older than his partner, but shorter, and fit, with a close-cropped haircut.
He reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded and crumpled piece of paper and held it out to John.

John assumed he was supposed to read the paper, but he ignored it and said, “I have no interest in reading anything from Marino,” replied John, “And we have every right to be armed despite the disaster.”

“Not in this neighborhood you don’t,” replied the man, as he flexed his pectoral muscles under the tight fitting Under Armour t-shirt he wore.

John stifled a laugh and asked, “Aren’t you Marino’s personal trainer?”

“That’s Mister Marino, and yeah, I am, so what about it?”

John knew he caught the younger man off-guard with his link to Marino, but he didn’t know where the information came from. The words just spewed out before he could stop himself. The man stammered and said, “Now I’m Tony’s . . . Mr. Marino’s security officer. And in that capacity I’m telling you that you’re not allowed to carry your guns around the neighborhood like you’re . . . the . . . the three Rambo’s, or something.”

John smiled broadly at the reference. He actually liked it. Apparently Pete and Paul liked it too because they chuckled and nodded in unison. When the fit man realized his comment wasn’t taken as an insult, he collected himself and prepared to fire off another attempt, but John cut him off, “Look pal, you may think you have the authority to question our means or methods of personal protection, but you don’t.” The two men stiffened as John moved his hand to the grip of his Sig Sauer P-225. “No one in this neighborhood has the authority to issue such an edict, not even your dear leader, Tony Marino,” finished John.

“That’s not entirely true,” replied Tony, as he stepped around from behind his two men and faced John. John’s attention had been so fixed on the two men that he missed the obnoxious man’s stealthy approach. Emboldened by John’s apparent surprise, Tony continued, and in a
loud and haughty voice so everyone around him could hear him, he said, “I was given the authority by the President of the United States.”

“Say what?” replied Pete.

Tony squinted his eyes and shrewdly examined Pete for a moment, but then he turned his attention back to John. “The President of the United States just passed a law, under the War Powers Resolution of 1973, that all local government officials are directed to do everything in their power to maintain law and order in their respective communities. And this,” said Tony with extended arms, “is my respective community.”

Pete snorted loudly, which finally earned him Tony’s full attention. John knew it was something Pete was trying to achieve from the start. Like him, Pete despised self-important people, and he also wasn’t one to run from a fight. John braced for the impact. “And just who’s that hiding behind you . . . John? It is John, right? John Anderson?” John didn’t answer, so Tony redirected a question at Pete, “Do you even live in this neighborhood, mister . . .?”

“His name is Pete,” replied John. “And he’s my brother. He’s visiting from out of town.”

“He doesn’t look like your brother,” replied Tony.

“You don’t know me, or my family,” replied John, flatly. Tony nodded and seemed to grow in stature as the people around them began to press in, eager to hear more of the heated exchange between two obvious rivals.

The situation was beginning to make John feel uncomfortable, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on Tony, for when he noticed the crowd’s interest in his words he turned to his personal trainer and said, “Joel, run to my truck and get my megaphone.” Joel stared blankly at Tony for several seconds before Tony hissed, “Did you hear what I said, fool? Go get my megaphone! It’s on the passenger seat of my truck.”

Joel left in a huff, but he did as Tony instructed. The bearded man opened his mouth to speak, but Tony cut him off. “Randy!” he snapped, “Close your mouth and go with him. I’ll be there in a second.”

Tony took a deep breath, and with as loud a voice as he could muster, he said, “As the HOA president of this community, I’m now officially responsible for maintaining the law and order, so I would appreciate everyone’s cooperation,” he said, as he eyed John’s rifle with interest. He immediately turned and walked to a blue pickup that was parked in the driveway near the house.

“I don’t like the way he looked at your rifle,” said Paul.

“He wasn’t looking at his rifle,” Pete said to Paul, “He was admiring John’s eyes, and was about to ask him out on a date.”

Paul snorted loudly in reply to Pete’s comment, but he quickly straightened and grew serious when several people turned to see who was making all the ruckus.

“Will you guys knock it off!” hissed John. “We’re not here to cause trouble.”

John watched as Tony strained to climb up into the back of the pickup. When he regained his footing and stood, he faced the crowd and held out his hand for the megaphone without looking at Randy. Apparently, Joel wasn’t interested in getting close to Tony again, so Randy was given the task to hand him the megaphone.

As Randy handed the megaphone to Tony, it slipped from his hands and crashed to the truck’s bed with a loud squawk, followed by a piercing wail. A few people covered their ears, but most who saw the exchange chuckled. While Tony fiddled with the megaphone, Pete asked, “So did I hear him correctly? Is he actually planning on taking over the neighborhood?”

“Yes,” said John, “I do believe that’s what he thinks he’s doing,” replied John.

After another short squawk, Tony’s voice blared over the megaphone. “Welcome family, friends, and neighbors. Thank you for attending this very important meeting.” Tony offered more in the way of introductions by quickly recognizing the other members of the Cedar Creek HOA who were present at the meeting. He then turned to his agenda. “First, I’d like to start by sharing with you
some very important news from the President of the United States. Then I’ll tell you what I can about the disaster,” said Tony, as he quickly cleared his throat away from the microphone. “Then I’ll talk about our food and water situation. And lastly, I’ll talk about security. But before I get into all that, I want to read a message from the President of the United States,” said Tony.

He ran a shirt sleeve over his shiny forehead and took another deep breath. John figured Tony must not be used to physical exertion, and wondered why he paid for a personal trainer if he wasn’t using him. Then, from somewhere deep in the crowd, a woman’s voice shouted, “Mr. Marino, Tony, can I say a quick prayer before we start the meeting?”

John recognized her from Tony’s earlier introductions. The request came from the HOA treasurer, a frumpy looking, fifty-something woman with dark-brown hair streaked with gray. Her blue and yellow dress very much out of place for the setting, or the somber survival mood. Tony glared at her, and said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Beal, but this is not a religious gathering.”

A low murmur of descent began to flow through the crowd. And Tony, sensing that he made a tactical error in his campaign for control, quickly adapted, “But I encourage everyone who wishes to pray to please do so at this time. We will now have a moment of silence for all those who have died in this terrible disaster.” To his credit, Tony even lowered the megaphone and bowed his head. John noticed that he checked his watch twice during the moment of silence.