Desperate Times (22 page)

“Thank God you saw the light,” said Jon and
slapped Jimmy on the back.

Jimmy wondered if he’d made the right
decision. He hoped that he had.

After lunch, Jon called for a short meeting.
He was tight-lipped about the entire affair and Jimmy couldn’t pry
a single word from him on what it was about. They sat gathered in
the back yard just as they had before the accident, seemingly one
large group of friends with a common goal: survival.

“I’ll make this brief,” said Jon, standing
with his back to the house in the sunshine. “I’d like to begin by
asking you all to welcome back Ken and Patty. Can we give our hosts
a show of appreciation for all that they’ve done for us?”

The group began to applaud. Some stood,
whistling and cheering their safe return. Ken and Patty were both
blushing. Ken bowed his head humbly and Patty dabbed at her
eyes.

Jon smiled and raised his arms. “The first
thing I’d like to cover is protecting what we have left. I know
we’ve talked about having armed guards, but we’ve never actually
done it. That’s going to change right now. From what Ken has told
us, there are rogue groups outside of here that have been attacking
camps like ours, and we have to be prepared for that eventuality.
Does anyone have a problem with that?”

Jon paused and scanned the crowd. Jimmy
studied the faces of those around them. From what he could see,
everyone was behind the idea.

Jon continued. “Okay, we’re going to split
into three groups. Each will take a shift at the wall. At the very
least, we need four sets of eyes at all times watching for any sign
of trouble. Each team will have a leader who will make sure that
happens. We can’t have anyone sleeping at their posts. This is
serious stuff; everyone’s life depends on it. I’d like everyone to
carry a gun, but what we really need is a warning to give us time
to react. That being said, all adults fit enough to stand sentry
will be asked to do so. Our safety depends on that.”

Jimmy scanned the faces again and found
nothing but nodding heads. Even Bill, who sat alone in the back,
was nodding emphatically.

“Something is going to happen. I can’t say
when, but we can be sure that sometime, someone is going to test
us. We’ve got to be ready. Load up your guns. At the first sign of
trouble, I want all of the children to take refuge in the basement.
Anyone who is able to shoot or help load weapons will be asked to
stand here and fight. That’s just the way it is. I’m sorry to say
this, but its kill or be killed.” Jon paused and let that soak
in.

“The council!” shouted Ken. “We need to elect
a council.”

“Right,” agreed Jon. “We need to do that and
we’re going to do it now. We need some volunteers to run for
council. We’re going to need some bylaws and rule enforcement. The
council will have the authority to banish those who choose not to
follow these rules. I think we’ve decided on five council members.
Now, who’d like to volunteer for this duty?”

Jimmy looked around and found that many of
the eyes were on him. He looked over at Cindy, and Rita was urging
her to stand.

Glen Putnam stood first. “I’ll serve,” he
said. “I’ll admit I made some mistakes and I’m sorry for that, damn
sorry. I’d like to run. I think I’d be an asset to the group. For
those of you who don’t know me, I’m Glen Putnam, the third shift
manager at Ken’s Plant.”

Jimmy cringed. He hated Putnam. He knew he
couldn’t be trusted.

“Me too,” said his counterpart, Pete
Donnelly, who stood next to Putnam. “Most of you know me and know
that I’m a fair man. I screwed up. I’ll admit that. But I learned
from my mistakes and I want a chance to redeem myself.”

Jimmy was furious as many in the crowd seemed
pleased to see both men toss their hats into the ring. He shot a
look over to Cindy who looked disturbed by the sudden turn of
events.
Come on!
He thought.
Stand up!

“I’m Cindy Huggins and I’d like to run for
council,” she said in a strong voice. “I know most of you think
that I’m just a kid, but I can do this.” she said, running her
fingers through her hair. “I’ve been taking college courses for the
past two years and have been studying American history and
government. I’m currently carrying a four-point grade average and
have finished at the top of my class every year since the seventh
grade. I guess what I want to say is that although I’m young; I
probably know more about our political system and the Constitution
than anyone else here. I happen to think that’s important.”

“Isn’t she that
Goth
chick?” said one
of the men in the back. That was followed by a smattering of
chuckles.

“There will be none of that!” shouted
Ken.

“Hold it, Mr. Dahlgren,” said Cindy, whirling
to face whoever had made the comment. “That’s a good point. I am
that Goth chick! Maybe I’m not dressed that way now. Maybe I won’t
ever dress that way again. Maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow and see me
wearing black from head to toe and find that I have a chain punched
through my nose. What’s it to you? Does what I wear make me less of
a person? Or maybe you just feel naturally superior to anyone
different from yourself? I wonder why that is?” She paused here and
shook her finger at the crowd like a first grade schoolteacher.
“Well, I’ve got news for you… This is America, land of the free and
the home of the brave. I don’t have to dress like you or look like
you! I don’t even have to believe in the same God as you do. It
doesn’t matter. We’re all equals here. It’s written in the
Constitution. I want to be on the Council; me, the person who
stands before you, not your skewed image of how I present myself.
We all have that right. It’s the backbone of the entire document.
That is the core of what being free is all about. And that is why I
should be on the council. I will stand up for who we are!”

Cindy took her seat next to Rita in the
deafening silence.

Ken stood from his wheelchair. Patty rushed
to his side, but he shooed her away. He then began to clap. Jimmy
jumped to his feet and joined him. People soon began to stand in
waves, applauding her courage. Jimmy began to laugh when he caught
Cindy’s eye. She gave him a wink and stood and absorbed the
adulation, just like a seasoned politician.
Wow,
thought
Jimmy. He suddenly knew what he had to do. He took a deep breath
and cleared his throat.

“I’m Jimmy Logan. Many of you knew my
parents,” he said, having absolutely no idea of where this was
going. “I’d like to be on the council because I think I can be
fair…” and that was as far as he got. Embarrassed, he searched his
head for something to add to his short campaign speech, but all he
could think of was: “Thank you.”

He sat down and felt his face getting red.
Oh God,
he thought bitterly. Julie giggled and that only
made him feel worse. A few others chimed in and Jimmy wanted
nothing more than to be invisible. And then Julie stood and began
to clap. Others stood. There was a distinct first and last to stand
response, but eventually they were all standing and applauding
Jimmy.

Jimmy’s face glowed bright red and he
couldn’t find the strength to get to his feet. Julie beamed.

“Okay, does anyone have any objections?” Ken
asked. He waited a long five seconds. “Done; you’re in.” He then
scanned the group. “Come on,” he said in a stern voice. “Patty and
I are not running. We need another volunteer.”

“I’ll run,” said Jon, who stood and faced the
group. “I think most of you know me. My name is Jon Lent. I served
eight years in the Army and spent a few years in Iraq. I currently
work as a stylist at Sheila’s Cut ’n Curl.”

Heads turned and someone giggled.

Jon made a strange face as if he’d slapped
himself.

The back yard erupted into laughter. Ken
didn’t even try to stop from joining in. Jimmy laughed and felt
much better about his own speech. Julie reached over and took his
hand.

“Okay, ha-ha,” said Jon, unable to subdue his
own smile. “I get it, very funny. All right, forget that I work as
a stylist. I feel that my experiences and training in the Army will
be a great asset to our community. Thank you.”

Again, everyone took to their feet and
applauded. Jimmy held his breath. They had their vote advantage. He
prayed that no one else would volunteer to run. Cindy had been
right. Guys like Glen Putnam and Pete Donnelly did think they were
better than everyone else. They certainly thought they were smarter
and more deserving. Jimmy didn’t like the thought of being ruled by
people like that.

“Anyone else?” asked Ken. “Like I said
before, Patty and I are not running. If anyone else feels that
they’d like a shot at being on the council, please stand and state
your case. Come on, there has to be someone…”

Jimmy scanned the crowd and the crowd scanned
back. He felt a ray of hope; nobody looked ready to stand. Everyone
was quiet, anxious.

“Well,” said Ken. “If that’s all we have and
five is all we need…”

“I want to run, too,” said Shirley Putnam.
She was chubby like her husband and wore a pink t-shirt and denim
jeans. “I think most of you know me as Glen’s wife, but I’m also on
the Crown Planning Committee and head of the local Sweet Adeline’s.
I also teach Sunday school at St. Mark’s Evangelical Church. I’d
like to run alongside of my husband. I think we’d be a huge asset
to the group. We work well together.”

The other side stood and applauded as Shirley
sat down. Soon, everyone stood and joined in. Those who had stayed
put and finished the wall clapped politely.

Jimmy cringed.
Sweet Adeline’s?
How
was he going to compete with that? How were any of them?

“Okay,” said Ken, “anyone else? Speak up now
if you’re interested… There we have it. Let’s give this a couple of
days. We’ll set up a ballot box the day after tomorrow. We’re going
to need everyone to vote. Write five names on a slip of paper and
we’ll tally them up. Good luck to all of you and thanks for
volunteering. Does anyone have anything to add? Okay, that’s all I
have.”

Each side had just paired three of their own
in a top five contest. The air was thick with the subtle knowledge
that nothing had really changed. There would be animosity for a
long time and it was quite likely that bygones would never be
bygones. Jimmy was sure of it.

Gun owners beware; it is quite likely that
you will be asked to voluntarily turn in your weapons during a
national emergency. Failure to do so could well result in a search
of your home and confiscation of said weapons. You will have to
decide for yourself if this in your best interests.

“I’ll take Rita,” said Jon, pointing to Rita
Lopez. They’d decided to choose their teams in the old-fashioned
way. Glen chose Ruth Schmidt, the eldest of all of them, a woman
rumored to be in her mid-eighties. She was sharp as a tack and had
the spunk of a woman in her sixties. There were two left of the
group, anxiously waiting to be chosen.

A sullen-looking Bill was chosen by default
after Jon chose Dan Kwapik’s fifteen year-old son, Zak. After a
heated discussion the boy had been cleared to stand guard. Zak
played quarterback at Crown Middle School and also held a firearms
certificate. “Shouldn’t that qualify him to stand guard with a
loaded weapon?” Zak’s father had argued. Jimmy didn’t think it did.
Zak joined in with Jon’s team and looked relieved not to be the
last chosen. Jon didn’t like Bill and he made no bones about it.
Bill slunk over to Donnelly’s team, sneering at Jon as he
passed.

“Okay people,” Ken said from his wheelchair.
“Here’s the drill. You team leaders are responsible for having your
groups ready. We’ll run a rotating schedule, but I want that wall
guarded twenty four hours a day. Trouble is coming. We have to be
able to turn it away. I don’t need to tell you that. Team leaders,
I want to see you in the basement. Jimmy, will you wheel me in
through the garage?”

“Sure,” said Jimmy, who quickly moved behind
and began to push Ken across the lawn. Julie nudged him aside and
began to help push and they accelerated through the grass.

“Slow down.” said Ken. “I’m not in
that
big of a hurry.”

“I picked these up at a gun show last
February. It was sort of an under-the-table transaction,” Ken said,
pointing to a dusty case on the floor of the workshop. “Pete, Glen,
would the two of you mind lifting that case down there, up here on
the bench? There, that’s it… Careful, it’s heavy… Go ahead, open
it.”

Pete snapped the latches and opened the case.
Inside were six black assault rifles. Jimmy whistled. They looked
new and smelled of gun oil.

“If those boys from next door want to play
again, they’d better bring some new toys,” Ken said. “These are
government-issue M-16s and they’re fully automatic.”

“Nice,” said Jon, hefting one out of the
crate.

“One more thing,” continued Ken. “If any of
you says a word to my wife about these, she’ll shoot me. She
doesn’t know much about guns, only that they weren’t in our budget.
We’ve been flat broke for a while now. The plant was bankrupt. No,
if she knew what I did, she’d pick up one of these and blast me
right between the eyes, scout’s honor.”