The Directives (38 page)

Again, a light chuckle came from the seated guests.

“It wasn’t until the galley ran out of flour that I realized everything had changed. I hiked into Galveston, and what I found there… well… you all saw what was happening. People were starving, attacking each other…. An attitude of “Each man for himself,” prevailed. I couldn’t just stand by and let that happen. No good man could. I had to try and change things for the better, and I believe we’ve succeeded.”

Heads nodded in agreement all around, a few glasses of beer raised in salute.

“But now, gentlemen, now we are faced with yet another change. This morning, I was informed that we had a secret, special visitor to our island. One of our men noticed a fancy motorhome, complete with escorts and armed guards. Another of our people recognized the leader of an organization called the Alliance, out of West Texas.”

The old captain’s eyes became very serious, moving from man to man around the table to make sure he held their attention.

“We’ve known of this group for some months. We’ve heard some fantastic stories of their escapades, intercepted radio traffic among their cities and villages, and interviewed refugees who have made some unbelievable claims. It seems the military has recently joined their ranks, and now they are marching east.”

“Maybe this leader of theirs needed a vacation,” teased one of the younger men. The joke fell flat, so much so that his mate scooted his half-full mug of beer away, out of his reach.

Shaking his head, Corky dismissed the suggestion. “No, our sources in Houston tell me that she’s here to scout our operation. The Alliance has the intention of spreading recovery throughout the entire state. Some people even talk of recreating the Republic of Texas as an independent nation.”

“She?” inquired one of the old captains. “Did you say this leader is a ‘she,’ sir?”

“Yes, and I would like to introduce you to her. Gentlemen, please welcome Ms. Terri, Chairwoman of the ruling Council, and Ambassador of the Alliance of West Texas.”

Terri smiled around the room, several of the men openly showing their surprise.

Corky paused, giving his men time to consider the ramifications of the information. “Before we sat down to eat, I had the most interesting conversation with this insightful young lady. I was worried she led conquerors, bound and determined to take territory and impose their will on the population. She has convinced me that is not the case.”

Taking another sip, Corky continued, “My next concern was
of our plentiful resources being seized and distributed to less fortunate parts of the state. Again, she has confirmed the Alliance has no intention of conducting business in that manner.”

Terri, for the first time, spoke up. “We believe in free trade. Our governing body only gets involved to facilitate exchange.”

“And finally,” Corky continued, “I was worried about democracy and representation. Again, I’ve been assured that the Alliance has, and will continue to have, elections. Our city will have fair representation in the system they are creating.”

Several heads nodded arou
nd the table, smiles and toasts in anticipation of a new day.

“So, do we resist? Try to isolate ourselves? Or do we join forces with this Alliance and pledge our loyalty? I wanted all of you involved in this decision, gentlemen. Change is riding a fast current, headed directly at our bow.”

One of the most senior men at the table cleared his throat, “Captain Landreneau, I have a hundred questions, as I’m sure do my colleagues. When the time is right, will we have the opportunity to receive answers?”

Before Terri could answer, there was a knock at the door. The first mate entered the room, quietly whispering something in Corky’s ear. Soon, the message was repeated to Terri.

Standing, Terri gazed around the table, smiling and making eye contact with each seated man. “I can assure all of you, we will do our best to address your questions. I’m positive we’ll have a few of our own. We will be in contact and then send a team of our experts to coordinate with you. In the meantime, I understand the weather is quickly deteriorating, and I should return to my home.”

Gomez made a decision which surprised both Bishop and Grim.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he announced out of the blue, “and I don’t reckon it’s a good idea for us to make any more of the scheduled stops.”

“Why’s that?” Grim asked.

“Major Misery’s men must have trucks and fuel. Lady Star is only making about 35 miles per hour, and it would be easy for those guys to get in front of us and lay in wait. We should just roll on through and head to Galveston.”

“And what stops them from just driving to Galveston and waiting on us there?”

“No. No. No,” the foreman shook his head. “The island is a boundary. It’s controlled by a different man with his own security people. If the major sent his people in there, they wouldn’t be welcomed at all. Only the guards on the train are allowed.”

Thoughts of Terri and Hunter immediately flooded Bishop’s mind. “You make it sound like some sort of mafia or organized crime syndicate?”

Gomez shrugged, “How can you tell the difference between a don and a successful businessman rebuilding his empire? Especially these days.”

“And who is this man that controls Galveston?” Bishop inquired.

Gomez grinned, “He calls himself Corky. I hear he’s a crafty
, old Cajun who owned a bunch of barges and towboats. Story goes he organized the people down there by seizing the cargo on his craft and using that as leverage. I’ve heard he had hundreds of tons of grain, fuel and other freight sitting on his decks when everything went to hell.”

Bishop didn’t doubt it. It wouldn’t be the first t
ime he’d seen a local businessman step forward and fill the vacuum created after the government collapsed or was unable to provide solutions. Sometimes such men provided the best possible answer, other times ultimate power corrupted.

“If you think it’s safer to go directly to the island, then my all means, let’s skip the rest of the stops. I’ve had enough fun for one day.”

Looking at the sun, Gomez said, “It will take at least three hours off our trip. I’m going forward and letting the engineer know.”

“Looks like you might get to see Terri sooner, rather than later,” Grim announced.

“I could use a day off at the beach,” Bishop responded with a grin, “to work on my tan.”

His friend motioned toward the south, a sq
uall line of ominous clouds stirring on the horizon. “Doesn’t look like the best time to be squishing sand between your toes.”

“Figures,” Bishop observed. “At least we’ll be done with this assignment. I think we have enough information to create a good report for the council. Think Gomez will be sorry to see us go?”

Laughing at the thought, Grim indicated he did not. “Gomez wouldn’t be sorry to see his own mother go.”

“We’ll tell him he can have our pay for the day’s work. That ought to cheer him up.”

Major Misery heard the ruckus before the two frightened, dirty faces appeared at the command tent. He knew immediately something had gone very wrong.

“Where’s Hoss?” was the father’s first question, the state of the men in front of him already telling of a failed robbery.

Looking down at the ground and shuffling his feet, the older of the two bandanas replied with a low voice. “He didn’t make it. He’s dead, sir.”

Both of the messengers expected an explosive tirade from their boss, the man’s temper well known and respected. Much to their shock and relief, the major merely stared off into empty space and sat down slowly, as if finding his land legs
after a long sea voyage.

After a few moments, Misery whispered, “How?”

“That new guy that Hoss fought yesterday… the little one… he killed him while we were shooting it out with the other guards on the roof.”

“Did you see him kill my son?”

“No, but I saw Hoss’s body before we took off. When I slid down the ladder, I peeked inside and saw him lying dead inside the car. That new guy was pulling his knife out of Hoss’s back.”

Both of the major’s fists slammed onto the table, the outburst startling the messengers. The display was quickly brought under control, Misery continuing with a low voice. “So I assume our little Trojan horse caper didn’t work out so well?”

“It would’ve, but those new guys fought like nothing we’ve ever seen. They were better shots and more disciplined than anything we’ve ever gone up against.”

Major Misery was no longer in the tent, at least not mentally. His physical body rose, briefly pacing around the room, but it was evident his mind was elsewhere.

“How many men did we lose?”

“Ten… ten out of fourteen, plus two more of the forward team.”

Finally, the major’s eyes focused. “Did you recover my son’s body?”

The frightened glance exchanged between the two visitors answered the question long before one of them mumbled, “No.”

Veins appeared in the major’s forehead, his body trembling in anger. Pivoting sharply on his heels and pointing a shaking finger, he hissed, “If they have Hoss’s body, you know what that means. It means the fucking Lady Star is no longer a gravy train for us. It means the baron is going to come after us vigorously. It means you two, and all the rest of you worthless idiots are going to either hang, or go back to eating squirrel stew out in the woods.”

Both of the messengers nodded, “What do you want us to do, boss?”

Major Misery managed to calm himself down with great effort, finally rubbing his chin in thought. “Gather everyone. All the ammo and weapons we can muster. We’ll make sure that locomotive doesn’t make it back here tomorrow. We’ll stop it just north of the island. Now get going.”

Corky, after escorting his guests off the ship, strolled onto the bridge, his experienced eye scanning the conditions outside the thick glass enclosure, his brow wrinkling in a frown. “Quite the blow,” he remarked to the first mate.

“Yes, sir, it surely is. I’ve been watching the wind speed, and things appear to be getting serious out there. I’ve seen gusts at 60, pretty constant at 40.”

“And the barometric pressure?”

Sighing, the man keeping watch replied, “Our barometer is down, sir. I can’t monitor the pressure.”

Corky motioned to a nearby docked tow, the
Morgan City Angel
restless in her berth less than 30 feet away. “Have you contacted
Angel
to check the pressure?”