Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (45 page)

John was carrying a box of family heirlooms to the shop when Corbin came running up behind him yelling. “Mr. A, there’s someone out front that wants to talk to you!” John continued walking, determined to carry the last of the boxes into the shop before stopping. He was slightly annoyed with Corbin’s excited interruption, not because it delayed his plans to work on the shelter entrance, but because he was tired of dealing with his unprepared neighbors.

“Is it something Pete can handle?” asked John when he reached the shop, but Corbin was already running back to the house. “Corbin!”

The boy stopped and turned around. John waited for him to jog back and asked, “Can Pete handle the visitor?”

“Sergeant Major . . . Pete’s the one who told me to come get you,” replied Corbin.

“OK. You could have said that the first time and saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Sorry Mr. A. Can I go now?”

“Yes, and thanks. Tell Pete I’ll be right there.”

He reasoned that if Pete needed him, it probably had something to do with Tony, or the upcoming meeting. Since he wasn’t looking forward to either, he was even more annoyed with the interruption. John placed the box on the shop floor and quickly surveyed the results of work accomplished, and the work that remained. He and Jenna spent most of the morning packing and transferring boxes of keepsakes to the shop for storage in the shelter. Though it was tedious work, it gave them an opportunity to discuss the journal and John’s spiritual experiences.

John couldn’t help but notice the change that came over Jenna, and he wondered, as did she, if it was due to him visiting her several nights ago. John’s account of their spiritual conversation intrigued her, and though she wouldn’t admit it, John thought she actually remembered it. But as far as he was concerned, he didn’t care if she remembered it or not, he was just happy she accepted him and his abilities, and that he no longer had to keep secrets from her.

John looked at the boxes and knew he’d need help lowering them down into the shelter. A few were too heavy to risk on the ladder by himself because they contained books he wanted to keep. Other boxes contained supplies and equipment from the gun safe, like John’s grandfather’s antique Colt .45 revolver. But most of the boxes contained photo albums, china, silverware, paperwork, and important documents, along with a few personal mementos from everyone in the company, like Bonnie’s favorite oil painting. She told John she would rather store it in the shelter than risk losing it on their trip. Even Paul, Marissa and Corbin added personal things to a box.

John never thought he’d end up using the shelter as a vault, but it seemed the right thing to do given the situation, and everyone’s hope that they might someday return. John didn’t share their optimism, but he wasn’t about to crush it either. He knew people worked better if they had hope, and the only hope he could offer them was that they would one day return to claim their property. Knowing that their personal property was safely tucked away in an underground shelter gave them hope, and John appreciated the fact that it provided something useful for the company after all.

John found Pete at the front door and asked, “What’s up?”

“It’s that guy we saw with Tony at the meeting. I think his name is Randy,” said Pete.

“Randy? The tall thin guy?”

“Yeah, that’s him. And he’s with another man, someone I didn’t see with Tony at the meeting.”

“Did they say what they wanted?” asked John.

“Parlay,” was Pete’s simple reply.

“Are they armed?”

“Not from what I could see. Want me to go talk to them?” asked Pete.

“Who’s in the alcove,” asked John, as he looked through the peephole.

“Adam and Corbin,” replied Pete.

“Good. OK, let’s do this together,” said John. He noticed the first part of the door barrier was already lifted away, which was against the rules, but he didn’t say anything to the boys because Pete was with them. As soon as he turned the deadbolt and stepped out, Randy waved and began walking toward the front door. Adam quickly told him to stop and Randy froze in place. “It’s OK, Adam,” yelled John. “I’ve got control now. Just continue to cover me.”

“Got it, dad.”

John began to read the man standing next to Randy as they walked up to meet them. He never saw the man before, but that didn’t mean
anything for John because he didn’t know everyone in the neighborhood, especially the people on Paul’s side of the loop. The man was twice Randy’s age, average height, with a fit and disciplined look about him. He reminded John a little of Robin Williams in his later, more distinguished years. The man confidently locked eyes with John, but managed to remain respectful and attentive, which impressed John. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” asked John, as he shook hands with the man while ignoring Randy’s altogether.

“The name’s, Jeff . . . Jeff Otto,” replied the man.

“I’m John. Nice to meet you, Jeff. So, what can I do for you?”

“Before we talk business,” interrupted Randy, “I want to apologize for my part in your kidnapping.” He was tense, and looked like he was ready to bolt, but John respected his courage. John faced him and said, “The only reason I’m standing here is because I heard what you said while I was in Tony’s garage. I remember your discomfort, and I appreciate it, but that’s not enough to get you off the hook. You were an accomplice to my kidnapping, Randy. Why exactly are you here?”

“I know. And if it means anything, I’m sorry. I want to make up for my mistakes. I also want to tell you that Joel is trying to raise a posse to come after you, but so far nobody will join him . . . not after what happened with the biker gang.”

Pete snorted loudly and said, “Let him come.”

“Really?” said John. “What’s being said?”

“Only that you guys eliminated the entire biker gang in less than a minute, and that you cut off the leader’s head with his own machete,” replied Randy.

“Well, that’s true enough, but it wasn’t me who did it. I was still being held at the roadhouse, and under heavy guard. But you’re right about the gang leader, he did lose his head,” replied John.

Pete snorted again, but this time it was more like a laugh than a challenge. He didn’t have his rifle, but Pete’s hand remained firmly on the grip of his pistol. John too had a pistol, but he knew neither man
posed a threat to his safety, he felt it even, so he was relaxed and interested in hearing Randy’s account of the neighborhood.

Randy looked over at the motorcycles laying across the street and turned his attention back to John. “That’s all I have to say. I know you can handle Joel. I just wanted you to know I switched sides. I don’t work for Tony or Joel anymore,” and then he nodded to Jeff.

Jeff cleared his throat and said, “Thanks for meeting with us. I wanted to meet with you after you handled that guy during the last meeting. And after talking with Randy, I asked him to introduce me to you. I hope you don’t mind. I just thought it would be good for Randy to come clean with you.”

“No. Not at all,” said John. “Are you a friend of Randy’s?”

“Well, maybe loosely. I don’t think he’s earned that title yet, but he did help us understand what’s been going on around here. He told us everything about what Tony’s been up too.”

“Us? Who’s us?” asked John.

“I’m with a group of neighbors who don’t appreciate Tony’s efforts. In fact, we’re ready to deal with him. I know he’s crooked, and after what I saw with the biker gang, I know we’re better off without him,” said Jeff.

“You saw the fight? Where do you live?” asked John.

“Just down the loop . . . at number 282, just over that way a bit,” said Jeff, as he turned and pointed up the road. He looked at Pete and said, “I wanted to come help you, but I don’t have a very good rifle. I’m afraid to fire it.”

Pete nodded and said, “Well I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Jeff, this is my brother, Pete” said John. “Sorry I didn’t introduce him to you.”

“It’s OK. You guys don’t look like brothers,” said Jeff.

“Yeah, we hear that a lot,” said Pete. “Seriously though, I’m glad you didn’t try to help. We were prepared to deal with them. But if it’s a weapon you need . . . well, I’ve got a pile of them inside. You want something more reliable? I can hook you up.”

“Would I ever,” said Jeff, “but I’m not real smart with guns though. You’ll have to show me how to use it.”

“OK. I’ll get you something easy to handle. I’ll be right back,” replied Pete, and he walked to the front porch.

John saw that Jeff was touched by Pete’s generosity, but he was glad Pete didn’t make the same offer to Randy. John turned to him and asked, “Where’s your rifle, Randy?”

“It’s at the house. Tony made me carry it around, but it felt stupid. My dad got it for me for Christmas last year, but I’ve never fired it once,” said Randy.

“You’ve never fired it?” asked John, clearly surprised.

“Nope,” said Randy.

“OK, I’ll ask Pete to get you something smaller to carry, like a pistol maybe,” said John, with a change of heart.

“Thanks John, I really appreciate it, but I better get going,” said Randy. “Jeff wants me to keep checking in with Joel, to gather intelligence, or something like that.”

“Really?” asked John with a nod. “I think that’s a great idea. But if I find out you’re double crossing us, you’ll suffer the same fate as Tony.”

“That’s what I told him too,” said Jeff. “But he’s on board with us . . . aren’t you, Randy?”

“I said I was, and I am,” replied Randy, slightly irritated that his trust was being questioned.

“Trust is earned, Randy. Go do your duties with Joel and we’ll see you after the meeting. Things will be different when it’s over, and you’ll be able to drop all pretenses of working with Joel,” said John.

Jeff nodded in agreement. He patted Randy on the shoulder and said, “Be careful, and I’ll see you later.”

John watched the lanky young man walk away, his signature lumbering stride resembling that of a giraffe. John offered Jeff a seat on the front porch, and the two men walked together as they talked. The conversation lasted longer than John could afford, but he liked Jeff, and it was a productive use of his time. John learned that there was an
active faction of neighbors who opposed Tony’s plans for them, and when they learned he tried to leverage the biker gang as muscle, they were absolutely appalled and began to organize a résistance. Jeff didn’t mask his delight that the biker gang was so handily defeated by Pete, so now they planned to form several scavenging parties and venture out in search of food, which was excellent news for John.

According to Jeff, several of the neighbors in his group planned to forcibly remove Tony from office during the upcoming meeting, but when they learned that John was holding him prisoner they decided to send someone over to talk. Jeff volunteered, which is why he was sitting on John’s front patio. John learned that the discontent began to blossom when Tony expressed a desire to confiscate everyone’s weapons and redistribute them throughout the neighborhood.

“I’m curious, but why did Tony’s plans bother you?” asked John.

“I don’t think Tony would have given our guns back. He wanted control, and by taking them he would have had it,” said Jeff. “People think gun control is the answer to all their problems; that only the police and the military should have them, but I know better.”

“What do you mean?” asked John.

“My grandfather was a German Jew before the Second World War. He told me how the Nazi’s enacted laws to disarm them . . . made it impossible for them to own firearms. He left for America with my grandmother just before Kristallnacht. He left everything behind. The first thing he did when he got to America was buy a military rifle. It’s the one I told you about. You know what . . . I don’t think my grandfather, or my father ever fired it. They just wanted it, it was a symbol of personal freedom,” finished Jeff.

“I’ve heard a lot of stories like that . . . from around the world even,” replied John.

“Yeah. I saw where America was headed, that the government was working hard to take our weapons away through some crazy United Nations agreement. I’m actually glad the disaster hit before they managed to do it, though I’d never admit that to my wife. She misses everything.”

“What kind of rifle is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“An old Lee Enfield .303,” said Jeff.

“Really? What kind of shape is it in?” asked John, unable to contain his excitement. He loved antique military weapons, especially good ones. Models of the Lee Enfield were in service during both World Wars, and endured in some British units into the 60’s. They were rugged and reliable, and downright cool to hold. He never shot one, but he wouldn’t mind adding one to his collection.

“I think it’s in great shape. It’s been in the family for years. My son can’t wait for me to die so he can get his hands on it,” finished Jeff, with a chuckle. “But I think he’ll break tradition and shoot it.”

John chuckled in reply and said, “I’d like to see it one day. Do you even have ammo for it?”

“Well, that’s the problem. I don’t,” said Jeff.

“I bet. I think the .303 was rimfire, which would make it very hard to find, even under normal circumstances. I’ve got some .308, but your rifle might as well be from a different planet for all the help that is. I think you’ll need something a little more modern if you’re going to properly defend yourself,” said John.

Pete must have been listening to their conversation from the alcove, for when talk turned to weapons he emerged from the house carrying a shotgun and a pistol. He approached Jeff and said, “I think you can handle this wheel-gun, it’s a Smith and Wesson .357 magnum, an old police model. The shotgun’s a simple pump action . . . easy to use, and it’s not cut down like the others,” said Pete, as he held out the weapons for Jeff.

“I don’t know how to thank you, but can you show me how to use them?” asked Jeff.

“I sure can,” said Pete, and he proceeded to train Jeff on how to load, unload and fire the two weapons. Pete also handed Jeff a plastic grocery bag that contained a variety of shotgun shells and bullets for the pistol. He apologized to Jeff for not having more than ten rounds for the pistol, but said he’d keep his eyes open for more.