J. Curtis - Calexit - The Anthology

“Um.” Ryan wasn’t sure what to say.

“We’re delighted to help.” His mother rescued him. “And I think Ryan’s idea for you to stay with the Fritz’s for a while, at least, is a good one. We don’t know if they were tracking your chips. They — the Brownshirts — have a lot going on at the moment. But for various reasons, there’s a team of men doing overwatch at the Fritz place.” She nodded at Ryan. “That’s where he was last night. He’d still be there if Letty hadn’t insisted she’d only talk to him.”

Ryan shot his friend a dirty look. She just rolled her eyes at him. Ryan sat and started to eat. Behind him, Jon was talking to his mom. “Could they use a former Marine?”

“I thought you said there was no former?” His daughter smart-mouthed at him.

His response was interrupted by her mother’s voice calling for her.

Irina answered serenely, as though nothing had happened. “Yes, I’m sure they can. We’re shorthanded out here.”

Which is how Ryan found himself guiding Jon back up to the campsite a few hours later. It was past noon, and his mother had insisted on not only packing a lunch, but sending dinner along with them. She and Letrice’s mom, who turned out to be named Shanika, “but just call me Nika, honey,” had teamed up in the kitchen. Jon had leaned over and stage whispered to Ryan, “Women get upset, they cook. But don’t you go makin’ ’em sad, boy, then they stop cooking for you and throw pots, instead.”

That sally had gotten them banished to the barn by Nika. Letrice, it turned out, had never been on a horse. Ryan told her he’d teach her how to ride, but they didn’t have time. He tacked and saddled Salsa, and one of his dad’s horses, a big quiet blue roan named Moke, for Jon. Jon, it turned out, had done very little riding.

“They’s not a lot a barns in LA, kid.” He explained. “I might be better walking.”

“Well, maybe. But we might need to move faster than that.” Ryan wasn’t sure. The veteran was quick on his feet.

“Oh, I won’t turn it down. Just warning you.”

When Sam pulled in, they were ready to go, and now they were riding back to where Ryan had spent the night. Jon was armed with a shotgun and then Irina had gone to the display over the mantle. She had gently taken one of the pieces hanging there, a 1911 Ryan knew had been carried in WWI by his great-grandfather. Jon looked at the antique semi-automatic pistol Irina had presented him with along with its leather holster. The man had acted like she’d given him the crown jewels. “You sure about this?”

“You look like you know how to take care of it. Not drop it in the dirt. It’s loaded.” She looked him in the eyes, and he straightened his back.

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll take good care of it. And it’s an honor.”

Ryan knew it had been his grandfather’s gun. He wondered why it was so special. He was carrying his Marlin. He’d decided his competition rifle wasn’t the right gun to carry out on the range, and it didn’t fit in the scabbard. Re-zeroing the scope would be a witch with a B, and he didn’t believe he’d be shooting someone today.

“Hello, the camp.” He called out in a low voice when they got near. Eddie stepped out of the brush, and Ryan jumped so hard he almost fell off his horse.

Ed bent over laughing. “You brought backup,” He managed when his fit was over.

Jon, grinning, bent over and offered his hand. “That was brilliant, man! I’m Jon Silverman.”

“Ed.” They shook hands. “You saw me comin’.”

“Well, I was trained on ambushes. But I figured the kid could use the lesson.”

Ryan gave them both a dirty look. “Ed, he could have shot you.”

“Nah.” Jon shook his head. “He don’t smell like a Brownie.”

Ryan tried to figure out if that was a joke, or a racist remark.

“Come on up to the camp.” Ed led the way on foot, the geldings ambling behind them. Jon, for all his protestations about riding ability, wasn’t bad once he was in the saddle.

“Boll’s on watch. How about you relieve him?” Ed suggested once they were dismounted and the horses cared for.

Ryan was glad to leave the company of the men who had been teasing him. He slithered into place next to the big sheriff, who was lying in the shade of a bush.

“Afternoon, Ryan.” Boll greeted him. “Mighty quiet up here.”

“Yep.” Ryan said. He was dealing with that feeling of weird shifting again. From sitting in his own house with his internet friend, to lying on top of a ridge in a scene straight out of an old Western.

“I hear you brought reinforcements.” Boll said.

Ryan wondered how he’d heard, since they weren’t using cell phones. “Just one, father of my friend. He used to be a Marine.”

Boll chuckled, his body shaking. “With a Marine, there’s no used-to-be.”

“That’s what he said.” Ryan felt left out of the joke. “And I was thinking that my friend’s family could stay with the Fritzes.”

“Yep, I heard that. Your mom’s taking them over now.”

Boll pointed, and when Ryan squinted he could see the thin plume of dust that indicated a vehicle traveling along the long dirt drive. “She must have left not long after we did.”

“She said that Letty can handle a gun, but Nika refuses to learn to shoot one.” Boll went on.

“I didn’t know that.” Ryan didn’t remember Spacey — Letty — ever talking about learning how to shoot. He’d shut up about shooting and hunting after Brynna lost her mind in the chat group over it. So Letty must have learned by example from her crash and burn.

“We all learn things — ‘bout ourselves and friends — when crisis comes.” Boll opined in his deep voice.

They fell silent for a long time. Ryan was watching a hawk riding the wind up, then dropping back down in precipitous dives. Birds were cool. He wished he could fly like that, it looked like fun. The bird broke off its dive abruptly and pulled up, flying to the side and into the hillside trees.

“Boll.” Ryan pointed. “Something spooked a hawk over there.”

There was enough brush and trees to conceal what was moving on the ground, but the hawk had been right over it when he thought better of his playtime. Boll trained his binoculars on the area.

“Huh. Didn’t think we’d see anything in daylight. They’re gettin’ bold.”

He shifted and pulled a bulky handheld radio out of his cargo pocket. “N1UUX to base, over.”

The radio crackled and Ryan recognized Diane Fritz’s voice. “Base, we hear you N1UUX, go ahead, over.”

“Base, we have eyes on three men. No horses, might not be all the men down there. They’re in a tangle, over.”

“N1UUX, will repeat back to the office. Base out.”

“N1UUX out.” Boll clicked off.

“What is that?” Ryan asked.

“Ham radio. Not many of us still bother to keep licenses, but I got bored settin’ in the office, started picking up skills. And once in awhile there’s a search out past cell tower range.”

“You don’t think they can hear you?” Ryan asked.

Boll snorted. “We’re frequency-hopping, and transmittin’ in the clear, but they don’t seem to have cued into it yet. It’s old school.”

“Mom’s down there.” Ryan said. He wasn’t telling the other man, just verbalizing his thoughts.

“I know, kid. We won’t let them get anywhere near her.”

“What are we going to do?” Ryan asked. He could see the men, now. They were following what looked like a deer path, walking single file. There were more than three of them.

“First, I get in touch with the other camp. Ed’s out there, and your friend’s probably along with him.”

Boll lifted his hand and used small finger motions to show Ryan where he thought Ed and Jon were. “Ed scouted that yesterday, he said it was a good ambush spot.”