Rise From The Ashes: The Rebirth of San Antonio (Countdown to Armageddon Book 3) (20 page)

     “Plus, have you ever heard the saying, ‘a bad wound is better than a kill?’”

     Joyce shook her head no.

     “It was one of the basic philosophies of the German Army during World War II. Many of the traps they left for the allied armies weren’t lethal. Mines with small amounts of explosives to weaken their blasts, and things like that. The Viet Cong used some of the same methods during the Vietnam War.

     “The principle was that in the heat of a battle, you can tie up more of the enemy troops by wounding them instead of killing them. If you kill a soldier outright, he falls dead to the ground and his comrades leave him there and keep advancing.

     “But if you can just wound him, by blowing off his leg or filling his gut with shrapnel, then two or three of his buddies will stop to help him. They’ll administer first aid to him, try to stop the bleeding, and try to drag him back so he can be evacuated to a field hospital. And all the time the guy’s buddies are doing that, they’re unable to advance, or defend themselves. In fact, they are often times sitting ducks. Medics have always incurred heavy casualties in wartime. Even though the Geneva Convention says they are noncombatants, you can damn sure bet that the enemy doesn’t care. While they’re treating the wounded with no weapon in their hands, the enemy sees the red cross on their arm or their helmet and shoots them anyway.

     “Anyway, my point is, that if we hurt some of them, it’ll slow the others down too, because somebody will have to help their wounded. But these guys won’t be medics. And they won’t be covered by the Geneva Convention. And I’ll have no qualms about sending them straight to hell.”

     “It’s going to take an awful lot of screws to go all the way around the fence. And an awful lot of time.”

     “I know. But we’ve got plenty of both screws and time. This time of year, there aren’t any crops to tend for. Typically on a ranch or farm, winter is the time of year when you keep yourself busy repairing equipment and caring for the livestock. And that’s really all you have to do, so you have a lot of free time on your hands. This is actually a good time to do this, and even if those yahoos never come back, it’s probably a good idea to do it anyway.”

-37
-

     It was a sight to see, for sure. It still resembled a police car in some respects, in that the light bar was still perched on its top, and the sides and hood were still painted in the black and white color scheme of the San Antonio Police Department.

     The blue, white and gold shield-shaped badge still adorned both front doors.

     But beyond that, the vehicle more resembled the 1921 Oldsmobile Roadster truck that the Clampett family took to the Hills of Beverly.

     Every inch of the rooftop of the squad car was covered with sections of rain gutter, tied precariously into place with hemp rope
. Across the car’s trunk were eight Hefty brand plastic garbage cans, one placed inside the other, and also tied down with rope.

     Thrown across the back seat were locking lids for the trash can
s, as well as several boxes of nails and four hammers.

     Since winter had come to
San Antonio, the SAPD had another pet project they were undertaking. There were no crops to care for, and all the harvesting had been done. Most of the bodies had been collected and burned, and dedicated crews from the fire department had agreed to take care of the rest of them.

    
San Antonio cops had suddenly found themselves with extra time on their hands.

     At about that same time, Chief Martinez met with the San Antonio
Water Board, which asked the chief to help them spread the word. A lot of the equipment at the water plant was still running at partial capacity due to damage it had suffered from the EMP. They were only able to produce a fraction of the water the city needed, and it would probably get worse before it got better.

     “This past year, especially in the summer months when rainfall was limited, our citizens were using their tap water to irrigate their crops, and well as for cooking and drinking and bathing.

     “We’re worried that if any more of the equipment breaks, we won’t be able to keep up with the demand this year. That we won’t be able to process enough safe water to provide the city’s needs.”

     “Okay. Understood. So how can the SAPD help?”

     “You’re our only means of getting the word out now since none of the radio or television stations are working. Your officers see the citizens on a daily basis. We’d like for them to start spreading the word to the citizens to start conserving water now, so we can fill our towers and have enough to get us through the hot summer months.”

     “Summer’s still seven months away. Is it really imperative that we start conserving so early?”

     “We need to be prudent. If we have a mild summer, with moderate temperatures and an average amount of rainfall, then we can muddle through it.

     “But in our business it’s always a good idea to hope for the best and expect the worst. If this summer is extraordinarily hot and dry, and if we have drought conditions,
we’ll be in big trouble. If we don’t conserve early and don’t have a reserve supply, the taps could run dry.

     “Every single neighborhood crop in the city would wither and die. And the people would be starving.”

     “Okay. Enough said. We’ll have our officers spread the word. Cut back on the showers and laundry. Use only the water you need for drinking and for cooking. Once we explain to them the reason why, I think they’ll willingly comply.

     “After all, these are the survivors. The toughest of the tough. After all they’ve been through already, this shouldn’t be too bitter a pill for them to swallow.”

     “Thank you, Chief.”

     After the meeting, as he was walking back to his office, Chief Martinez had struggled with his thoughts.

     There must be something more the SAPD could do to help with the situation.

     Then it dawned on him
. If the San Antonio Water Board could hoard water over the coming months, perhaps the residents could too.

     Bu
t first, he had to make sure his plan would work. So he told no one. Instead, he quietly took his assigned police car to a Home Depot near his home. He went to the outdoor section first and loaded down as many rain gutter sections as he could across the roof. He tied the pieces down by using rope to fasten then to the light bar.

     Next came the trash cans, which he tied across the trunk of the car.

     Luckily, he didn’t stumble across any of his patrol units as he drove from the Home Depot to a neighborhood garden a few blocks away. They likely would have thought him quite mad.

     He’d driven onto the street, loaded down like a ridiculous moving van
crossed with a cop car, and the street’s residents were quickly intrigued.

     He introduced himself to the man who appeared to be the block leader.

     “I’m Tony Martinez, the Chief of Police.”

     They looked at him strangely, probably thinking he was actually an escaped lunatic who
stole the police chief’s uniform.

     But fortunately, they listened.

     “The city water board says we need to conserve water for the coming summer months. They are expecting there to be a drought, and saying water will be too scarce to keep the crops alive.”

     “So what’s your plan, Chief?”

     “I want to hang gutters on four of your houses. We’ll have them drain into the trash cans every time it rains. Your people can keep the lids on them when it’s not raining, to keep the water from evaporating.

     “
Once we get the gutters up, we’ll position all eight of the trash cans underneath the down spouts. And we’ll have several months to fill them with water, before you start needing the water for your crops.

     “All you have to
do is remove the lids every time it starts to rain, and then put them back on when the rain stops.

     “In the spring, when you plant the crops, use buckets or water pitchers to dip into the trash cans. Use that water to water your crops. Any time you water your crops, use the rain water first. Only use city water when the rain water is gone.

     “And if you keep collecting rainwater every time it rains all year around, it’ll help the city tremendously.”

     A woman in the crowd was skeptical.

     “Will eight trash cans full of water really make a difference?”

     “Just your eight trash cans? No. But we’re going to do the same thing on every street until we can’t find any more gutter or trash cans. And then we’ll figure out another plan.

     “And when every street is doing their part to reduce their water needs, then it’ll start making a difference. And if we do have a drought this summer, this just might make the difference between saving our crops or starving to death.”

     The Chief
spent that afternoon hammering rain gutter sections onto four of the houses on the street. Assisted by the man who appeared to be the block leader, and two other men, they made quick work of the project.

     In the end, each of the four houses had shiny new gutters, sparkling in the sunlight, and two trash cans, one on each front corner of the house, standing by to catch water from the first rain.

     “Okay, Chief. That’s done. What else can we do?”

     “The rain in the spring comes in torrents. You already know that, I’m sure. It may rain so heavily that the trash cans become full, and the water starts overflowing.

     “If that happens, it would be helpful if you could have your people use buckets and water pitchers to move some of the water to other storage vessels. The bathtubs in your abandoned houses, for example. That way, as the water in the trash cans gets used for crops, the excess water from the tubs could be transferred back to the trash cans for later use.

     “Also, the water board told me they saw a lot of people overwatering their crops last season. They wanted me to spread the word that any time we have a significant rainfall, we can take a
few days off from watering the crops. They said don’t start watering them again until the leaves start to droop.”

     “Okay
. You have my word. We’ll do our share. And we’ll try to spread the word to our friends on the other streets.”

     The man reached out his hand to Chief Martinez and said, “Thank you, Chief. My name is John Luna. You probably don’t remember me, do you?”

     Martinez was slightly taken aback.

     “Well, I thought you looked familiar, but I’m sorry. I don’t remember you. Should I?”

     “Years ago, when you were a beat cop, you arrested me for dealing drugs on a street corner not far from here. For years I hated you and swore my revenge on you and on the system that sent me away. I joined a gang, and I’m still a member to this day.”

     “Should I worry?”

     “No. Most of my gang brothers are dead now. Some killed by wars with rivals. Some killed by the plague or suicide. There are only a few of us left. And we’ve mellowed. We spend our time helping our homies now. Trying to keep what’s left of our families alive.”

     “That’s how I spend my days too, John. In that way, we are the same. Perhaps it’s best we put the past in the past
and leave it there. What happened then was part of a whole world that doesn’t exist anymore. We’re better off focusing on the here and now. That’s tough enough without renewing old grudges from long ago.

     The man nodded
his head in agreement.

     But then the chief went one step further.

     “I can only imagine the hatred you felt for me for putting you in jail. I hope your heart is strong enough to understand it was nothing personal. Perhaps one day we can consider ourselves friends. For now I’d settle for knowing that we are both soldiers on the same side of the war. And that we’re fighting for the same thing. So those who are left can have an easier and safer time of it.”

     Luna held his hand out again, and
Martinez took it.

     “Agreed.”

-38
-