Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (16 page)

With an obvious majority vote of ayes behind him, Tony said, “Excellent. We’ll send census representatives around to your homes starting tomorrow morning. We sincerely appreciate your cooperation. I can tell you, most assuredly, that we are taking the right steps to ensure the continued survival of our neighborhood community. I now open the floor for questions or comments. Please raise your hand to be recognized.”

Paul was the first to speak up. “You have no right to demand we surrender anything to you. As the HOA president, you were elected to maintain the neighborhood, not control the people. You have no legal authority to confiscate anything.”

Tony cleared his throat and said, “You’re wrong, sir. We’re in a state of emergency, and as the duly elected representative of this community I was given legal authority. Also, I am not confiscating anything . . . all I’m asking for is your support. If we work together, we can and will survive this disaster. As for maintaining the neighborhood, what do you think I’m trying to do? It’s why we just agreed to make changes to the various HOA offices and bylaws. Your vote was counted,” finished Tony, as he flashed a toothy smile that looked entirely forced.

“Those bylaws are limited to the levying of fines, and pursuing other ridiculous legal actions through the courts,” said Paul, “not for appointing yourself as dictator, and confiscating personal property under the guise of cooperation.”

“Again, I said nothing about confiscating property,” replied Tony with a shorter smile. “I only asked that everyone share what they have. But in case you haven’t noticed, the courts are closed, and the counting and collecting of critical property, which is needed for the wellbeing of all, would stand up in court. Therefore, all recently passed bylaws will be enforced in accordance with the authority granted unto me by the President of the United States. We can’t condone hoarding . . . not when so many good people
need food and water,” said Tony. A variety of comments and mixed mumbling proceeded the exchange, but no one else seemed as willing to voice their opposition as heartily as Paul.

Tony looked around and asked, “So, are there any other questions?”

“When do you think the power will come back on?” asked a woman holding a small, blanket wrapped, baby. “And I really need some baby formula. Does anyone here have any baby formula they can spare?” She asked the last question loudly, more as a plea than a question, and her baby began to cry.

“I am not an expert on the electrical situation,” replied Tony, “but I’ll have Randy record your questions and we’ll get back to you.” Tony turned his attention back to the crowd and added, “In fact, every question raised will be addressed at the upcoming meeting, which will be here, tomorrow, at the same time. Now, can anyone help this mother feed her child?”

Many eyes turned to the woman with the crying child, but no one said anything, or had anything to offer. Baby formula was the one thing John didn’t have in his food storage, but he did have fortified powdered milk, and was already planning to provide her with some. John knew he would have to do it discretely, so as not to bring any undue attention to the fact that he had food he was willing to give away. This meeting made him realize life was going to get very interesting in the days and weeks to come.

Tony broke John’s revere by saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is exactly why we need to consolidate our food.”

John ignored the comment and whispered to Pete, “Can you keep an eye on that mom and see where she lives.” Pete nodded as he continued to scan the crowd.

“I need water!” someone yelled from the back.

“Yes. I’m aware of everyone’s need for water,” replied Tony. “By a show of hands, who here needs water right away?” John noticed most of the people raised their hands, but he doubted all of them were in dire need. “I see,” said Tony. “Does anyone here have water they can share?” asked Tony.

John was about to raise his hand when a man raised his hand. “Yes sir, do you have water you can share?” asked Tony.

John turned to look and saw that it was Kevin. Amy was standing next to him, and they were staring at John with contempt. John knew what was coming next. “No. I don’t have any water,” yelled Kevin, “but that guy there . . . the one with all the guns. He has water,” as he pointed to John.

“Is that true, Mr. Anderson? Do you have water you can share with your neighbors?” asked Tony.

John nodded and was about to answer, but Kevin interrupted him for a second time, “I know he does. He gave me five gallons this morning . . . from his pool. He covered his pool before the ash started to fall, and it’s filled with clean water!”

A new and electric energy began to travel through the crowd, and all eyes turned to John and his companions. It took all the willpower he could muster not to draw his pistol and back out of the crowd, but a retreat wasn’t necessary, only a social defense.

“What an ungrateful turd,” whispered Pete.

John wasn’t happy about the attention, and he definitely wasn’t pleased with Kevin for offering up something that wasn’t his to offer, but John was prepared for the inevitability. If he wasn’t, he would have never offered water to Kevin and Amy in the first place.

While projecting his voice to nearly match that of Tony’s with the megaphone, John said, while looking directly at Kevin and Amy. “It appears my friend Kevin is inclined to present himself as the moral authority for the neighborhood.” He then turned to Tony and said, “But to answer your question, Yes, I have water. I’ve already shared it, and I’ll share it with others. I’ll share my water with anyone who really needs it . . . but only in a controlled and orderly manner.”

“Can we get some water now?” shouted an unseen woman from the crowd.

“As soon as I get home you’re welcome to come get some water, but bring your own containers, and I will not provide any water
after dark. In fact, after the sun goes down, I’ll treat anyone who steps onto my property as a trespasser, and they’ll be subject to my law,” finished John.

“Now there, John. You don’t really mean that,” replied Tony, as the people once again began to murmur.

“I certainly do,” said John, looking directly at Tony. “I take my personal security very seriously. As for the need of the people, I came to you last year and offered to discuss disaster preparedness, but you rejected that idea outright. You even called me a survivalist nut job . . . your words, not mine.” John looked at the people standing around him and said, “It pains me to see all you good people desperate for food and water when you could have been better prepared. Under the right neighborhood leadership, we could have weathered this storm. But now you’re all desperate for water, and willing to lean on a man who has nothing to offer but communism.”

“Now wait just a minute . . .” complained Tony.

John ignored him and continued, “My pool water won’t last forever. What will you do when it’s gone?” John asked, as he again turned to address the crowd. He was met with silence. “That’s what I thought. I’ll share my water, just don’t come onto my property uninvited or you will be considered a threat.” And with a finger pointed at Tony, John added, “And I do not recognize your authority, or agree to your policy of census and consolidation. Respect my survival, and I will respect yours,” finished John.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” shouted a man as he barreled his way through the crowd toward John. If it wasn’t for the man’s goatee, his short-cropped hair would have made him look like an out of uniform Soldier. He was tall and fit, and very imposing. And when he closed to within twenty feet of John, Pete raised his rifle. Paul followed suit. John, on the other hand, stood motionless and ready to act, but the defensive actions of his companions stopped the big man in his tracks. People immediately stepped back and made room for a potent
violence that was sure to come. Strangely, it reminded John a little of a high school fight scene.

“I’ll tell you who I am, sir!” said John, directing his attention to the man, “I’m John Anderson. I didn’t lay claim over you, or anyone else in this neighborhood. I offer help, but on my terms, and not because someone claims to have authority over me. I served my country for over twenty years. I’ve been to war. I’ve seen death. And I know what’s going on around us. I know how bad it is, and how difficult it will be to survive, but I will not let some self-appointed bureaucrat, who claims to have a direct appointment by the president, tell me what to do,” finished John. He said it all without taking his eyes off the man for even a second.

The big man stared at John, but he kept glancing over at Paul. John wondered if he recognized Paul, but he filed it away for later consideration. He still had the drama to contend with. Tony, perhaps wishing to head off John’s surprise counterattack on his reputation, said, “John, I appreciate your cooperation and understand your reservations. You’re clearly a man of special purpose and ability. Would you be willing to meet with me following this meeting? I would really like to hear what you have to say. Perhaps we can call upon your extended experience and expertise to help us improve our survival possibilities.”

John realized he just allowed Tony to walk him into a trap. By responding as he did, he had to decide, publicly, whether he was going to commit to non-conformity, or cooperation. John knew, at least for the time being, that cooperation was their best chance of making it out of the neighborhood unmolested, so he had no choice but to agree to meet with Tony. “I agree to meet with you at the end of this meeting,” he said aloud for all to hear. And in a much lower voice he turned to the big man and said, “And if you ever walk up on me like that again, the situation won’t end so favorably for you.”

The man sneered at John and said, “That’s tough talk coming from a guy with all those guns.”

John unslung his rifle and handed it to Paul, and un-holstered his pistol and handed it to Pete. He walked to within six feet of the man, drew his combat knife, and asked, “Knives then?” The man’s eyes flashed wide, but they immediately narrowed. He didn’t comment, but neither did he shy away or produce a knife of his own. John flicked his knife to the ground and the big man charged.

John ducked and easily stepped aside to deliver a moderately powerful blow to the man’s left kidney as he passed. The blow could have incapacitated, or even killed the man if it was delivered with enough force, but John didn’t want to kill him, only make an example out of him, and establish himself as a respectable warrior.

The man grunted as the blow landed, and he slowed to a walk as he continued past John. Before turning around to face John, he put a hand to the small of his back and said, “I’m gonna break your scrawny chicken neck for that.”

John tilted his head and waited for the man to make his next move. After several patient seconds, John asked, “What are you waiting for?” The man assumed a classic boxer stance and approached John more cautiously. He jabbed and swung twice, and John easily parried the blows away by redirecting his energy. John had several opportunities to end the fight quickly, but again, he didn’t want to injure the man beyond a simple cooling off period.

Finally, when John had the opening he desired, he stepped into the man’s trapping range and delivered a powerful palm-strike to his chest. John performed the block and attack sequence so quickly that many around the fight didn’t even know it was over. To his credit, the big man did not collapse with the blow, but he did bend over and rest his hands on his knees.

Again, John didn’t deliver the striking blow at full force, but he did want to teach the man an important lesson, that big didn’t mean bad. So, while he was bent over gasping for breath, John walked up to him and said, as if demonstrating unarmed combat on a willing partner, “At this point in the engagement I could kick you in the balls, break your
knee, or your ankle.” Each time John mentioned a specific body part he would feign the respective strike. Then, with his hands and arms in motion, he said, “Or I could break
his
neck, like this,” said John, as he demonstrated the move, “which would either kill or render him permanently disabled.”

John walked away, grabbed his knife from the ground and sheathed it, and returned to stand with his companions. A few people actually clapped, but he ignored their praise and distracted himself by re-buckling his pistol belt and slinging his rifle over his shoulder. The silence was palpable, so John said, “I didn’t use excessive force on this man when I could have, but it’s this man . . .” said John, pointing to Tony, “who advocates extreme measures. I argue that there are ways to survive without having to resort to communism. As for me and my companions, each of us is capable of defending ourselves, our families, and our property. Consider yourselves warned,” finished John.

Everyone at the meeting saw the unarmed combat, and though many people were talking about it quietly among themselves, several stood stationary, frozen in place, staring blankly at John, or his opponent. John knew most people have never seen real violence before, but he also knew those days were gone, that everyone at the meeting would eventually come face to face with violence because of the change. That didn’t make him feel justified or happy with his actions, but he wasn’t about to shy away from violence. He didn’t cause the disaster, and he wasn’t about to lay down and let people like Tony, or anyone else who was bent on taking power and exerting control, to dictate his life. He was done with that type of government.

Violence was an undeniable element of survival. Gone were the days where rash and rude behavior would be protected under the rule of law. The disaster changed practically everything about life, but most especially it changed social accountability. “If you’re gonna talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk,” quipped John.

At first John was surprised that Tony didn’t try to stop the fight, but then he realized Tony was probably hoping the big guy would beat
him senseless, or maybe even kill him. Either way, it was a win, win situation for Tony. A victorious John made him look rash and dangerous, unpredictable even. A losing John got him out of the way, and proved Tony’s point that the neighborhood needed to cooperate under a banner of security over liberty. John looked up at Tony, who was standing very still, slack-jawed even, in the back of the blue pickup, and said, “It’s your show now!”