Jeff Brackett - Half Past Midnight

“I was just remembering how frustrating it can be to be beaten so soundly by someone half your size.”

He shook his head, obviously having no idea what I was talking about, and just as obviously not caring. He paced the room with a worried look on his face.

That bothered me. As I said before, my feelings for James Kelland had changed a lot since I’d first met him. He had gone from someone I couldn’t stand to a man whom I genuinely respected and trusted, liked even. “What’s the problem, Jim?”

He stopped his pacing and sat on the sofa. Stress still lined his brow. “The trucking crew got in today-without the trucks.”

That got my attention. The tanker trucks were part of the key to this town’s long-term survival. They were our only means of transporting the fuel we had staked out across the southern United States. Now Jim was telling me we had just lost half of them.

He continued in a subdued voice, and his tone worried me as much as what he had to say. “They brought a bit o’ news back with them.”

I took a seat in the easy chair across from him. To say that Jim had a talent for understatement was… well, an understatement. “I’ll bet they did. I take it that it wasn’t good news.”

He shook his head. “You know, I ain’t exactly sure.” Mayor Kelland was just full of surprises this morning.

“How do you mean?”

“Todd Waitfield was the lead driver.”

“I know him,” I said. “He’s one of our part-time students.”

The mayor shrugged. “Who ain’t, nowadays?”

That was true. Since we’d had so much trouble with freebooters in the more recent months, I had literally hundreds of students. On top of that, many of the senior students had begun teaching even more people at other locations around town.

“Anyway, he said they came up on a roadblock just this side of San Marcos, a roadblock manned by the U.S. Army. They had a tank sittin’ smack dab in the middle of the road! Confiscated the fuel in the name of the U.S. Reconstruction and Distribution effort and questioned the hell out o’ the drivin’ crew. Wanted to know what kind of condition we were in. Waitfield said as far as he knew, all of the men stuck to the drill. The only difference was that they had to tell them where they were heading, since they were depending on them for a ride.”

All of the drivers had been coached in what to say if questioned about where they were headed with the fuel if they ever ran across any organized groups. Part of the story was that they were members of a group based in Shreveport, Louisiana. They were to emphasize what a hard time their group was having, and how tough things were for them.

Jim continued, “’Course he couldn’t be a hunnerd percent sure, since they were all questioned separately, but he talked to his team afterward, and they all told him they’d played down the town’s resources and played up the problems we’ve all had. He trusts his team completely. Said he was willing to stake his life on their word.”

I nodded. “Makes sense, I guess. They’ve had to trust each other in some rough situations.”

“Yeah, but now he’s staking our lives on their word.” Jim took a deep breath before continuing, “Anyway, the army boys took the trucks and sent the crew back in a personnel vehicle. Waitfield said they told him they’re gonna be out this way later this week to discuss our contribution to the ’Reconstruction Effort.’ You believe that shit?” He laughed wryly. “The hell of it is, I don’t know whether or not to be happy about it.”

“How so?”

“Well, it looks like the government’s startin’ to get back on its feet, which to my way of thinkin’ is a good thing. But the first thing they do is start confiscatin’ our goods.” He stood and resumed his pacing. “And that, to my way of thinkin’, ain’t such a good thing at all.”

“Well, what do you expect, Jim? Compared to us, the rest of the country probably hasn’t got squat. We’ve got freshwater springs all over these parts. Crops are in. The closest hot spot is Houston, a hundred and eighty miles away. We haven’t had any hot winds in nearly six months. Hell, compared to what the majority of the country’s probably going through, we’re living in a freaking garden!”

“And we worked damn hard to get here!” he exclaimed bitterly. “So why should we just up and give it away?” He forced himself back to a calmer state, the effort plainly visible. “I got a lot of people depending on me to make decisions right now. The right decisions, Leeland, and I’m not sure what to do.” I could see how much the admission hurt him, and I sympathized. I had once been forced to make some similar decisions. Ironically, it had been Jim who had forced them on me.

I remembered the feeling well. He was torn by the necessity of the choices he had to make. He could turn the town’s hard-earned supplies over to the Army, or defy them and chance the retaliation of the military.

He sat back down. “I need some advice, or at least someone to discuss this with. The bitch of it is that there aren’t very many people I can talk to about this.”

“I’m flattered,” I replied, “but I don’t know if I’m the one you should be talking to.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Maybe you don’t realize just how many people look up to you nowadays. You’re an example to them. You and Ken and Megan.”

“That was over two years ago!” I laughed. “There have been a lot of other fights like that since then.”

“Not like that one.” Jim shook his head. “You forget who the investigating officer was. I know what you three went up against.”

He pointed his finger in my face before I could open my mouth. “I know that you never faced them all at once! You’ve told everyone who’ll listen, over and over. But I also know that when a known killer held a knife to Megan’s throat, instead of panicking or breaking down, you and Ken worked out a plan to distract the bad guys. And instead of panicking or breaking down, Megan killed the guy with his own knife!”

“Ken did the shooting and drew their fire,” I protested, “and Megan killed the guy. All I did was throw a smoke grenade and run. Of the three of us, I was in the least danger of all.”

The mayor took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Leeland, you’re modest. I can admire that. And it ain’t false modesty, either. You’re good people, and I thank God for sending you and your family to Rejas. But this ain’t the time for it, so shut the hell up, and let me tell you a couple of things about yourself!

“First, Ken told me that plan was yours, and I know you’re the one that trained Megan. And you forgot to mention that fight at the end. Billy told me you took him and his three buddies before they ever got off a shot. Everyone in town knows about that. I made sure that story got around. It was great for the town’s morale.

“Second, that karate shit of yours has spread to where at least two thirds of the folks in town are either training with you or some of your students. You’ve given them the knowledge, not to mention the courage and confidence to defend themselves against armed bandits. That means you’re at least indirectly responsible for saving the lives of a good portion of the population here. Yet you insist on being treated as ’just one of the guys’ outside of class.

“Third, you and your forges have helped keep Rejas from sliding back into the Stone Age. I know you get a lot o’ help from Brad and Mark, but the idea was yours. You’re the closest thing to an expert we have on post-D survival, but you won’t head up any of the committees, even though we’ve asked you over and over. Instead, you insist on being an advisor. You’re one of those people that knows a little bit about a lot of things, and that’s what we need now.”