Glen Tate - 299 Days - The Community

Grant was so glad this Rich guy was laying the foundation for the neighborhood security force like this. Perfect.

I put him here, too.

Of course. Grant felt stupid for thinking this was pure chance.

“Here is my plan in a nutshell,” Rich said. “I’m not a dictator, so I want to lay it out, see what you think, and get started on putting a guard and patrol system together. To get boots on the ground tonight, as a matter of fact. OK, the nutshell.”

Rich looked at everyone in the room and continued, “We have at least a half dozen guys.” He looked at the women and said, “and when I say ‘guys’ I mean men or women. As long as people have some rudimentary training, they can volunteer for this. Anyway, we have about a half dozen guys, armed of course, at the entrance to Pierce Point Road. We have a car across the road. We’ll work on a real gate that can swing open and shut, but we can use a car for now. We need communications between the gate and a headquarters. We need enough people in reserve that we have guards to take shifts and to man the gate if someone is trying to shoot their way in.”

That thought caught a few people by surprise. They probably thought a “security” meeting would be like some homeowners’ association discussion of locking their doors and maybe some unarmed “neighborhood crime watch” crap that worked great when 911 answered calls in two minutes except, those days were gone.

Even out in Pierce Point, there were still plenty of people who hadn’t fully grasped that things were totally different now. They weren’t bad people, they just needed to process the changes. It was weird: back in Olympia, normalcy bias was the enemy. Grant fought against it. He was outnumbered by all the weenies who thought things were fine. He was in the minority there. But out at Pierce Point, he was in the majority. He didn’t have to fight as hard against normalcy bias, although it still existed.

For the first time since he fled Olympia, Grant realized he wasn’t furious at the people with normalcy bias like he had been in the past. As long as they didn’t cling to “normal” and let it affect their decision-making on important things, they’d be fine. If they did cling to it, they’d be dead, and get many others killed along with them. That’s the part that he would be watching for. Grant wasn’t on a crusade to have people think like him, but he was on a crusade to get through this, and people with normalcy bias would put him and his people in danger. It wasn’t personal. It was survival.

“There are two other things we need security-wise,” Rich said. “The first is a patrol that can respond to things door-to-door. These need to be the best trained because they are dealing with our families. This is where a no-thug requirement is key. The patrolmen need to be very well trained with firearms and tactics and respect for people.” Rich was looking directly at the Team. He had singled them out the second he saw them, but he needed to know if the well-armed guys in Mark’s truck were thugs or not.

“I will personally train and lead the patrol,” Rich said.

Grant wondered how Pow would react to that. Probably pretty well. Pow was glad to just be out in a safe place and having some training would only make him happier because he could do an even better job. It beat the shit out of selling insurance, which is what Pow had done during peacetime, just a few days ago.

“The second thing we need,” Rich said, “is a way to hold prisoners and, I guess, find out which ones are guilty.”

Here’s your role.

Grant suddenly knew exactly why he was in that room and in that neighborhood,. He had that odd feeling again that this was just the beginning of the role he was to fulfill.

“Chances are, we’re gonna need a judge, and a jail. At least some way to resolve disputes, and lock up people who are violent or thieves. As I see it, the jail won’t be fancy,” Rich said. “In fact, if you’re caught stealing from us or hurting us then I’m not real concerned that you’re comfy or even well fed. But we’re not animals. We won’t mistreat prisoners. This will mean a facility and some guards.”

Rich kept going. “The judge part will be pretty easy. Nothin’ fancy on trials. I just want someone or some people who can objectively look at things. I don’t want innocent people punished. Don’t worry. We won’t have lawyers and arguments and technicalities and week-long jury trials. Unless you guys want that, in which case we’ll try to make it happen.” Rich knew that the level of due process out there would be a topic of debate. He was hoping that if there were a lawyer in the room that he or she wouldn’t be a spaz who loved process over substance.

“Any questions?” Rich asked.

A hand went up from what looked like a cabin person. “What about the beach? That would be a way for people to come in and out.”

“Good point,” Rich said. “Well, we’ll need a beach patrol.” He pointed to the person asking the question. “You and me will get together after the meeting. You can coordinate the volunteers for what I’ll call the beach patrol. We’ll get some boats and some beach walkers. Thanks for bringing that to our attention.”

Another hand went up. “What kind of guns do we need for this?”

“Another excellent question,” Rich said. “We’re not a military force. We don’t need military weapons, although those are certainly welcomed,” he said looking at the Team. “If you’re familiar with your shotgun, hunting rifle, or handgun, then that’s what we need. I’d much rather have guys who know their weapon well than have people with the latest and greatest gizmos who are unfamiliar with those gizmos. People who haven’t shot ever, or in quite some time, will get trained. Some people probably have a couple extra guns. We could start a ‘gun library’ where people without a gun can check one out for a period of time. We would keep them in a central place, like a makeshift and secure armory. That way, the person loaning the gun to the community doesn’t have to worry about it walking off. Or, if people make arrangements to borrow a gun and keep it with them, that’s great, too. But it’s up to the person loaning the guns to loan them to the armory or directly to a person.”

Rich paused. Grant couldn’t tell if he was thinking of all of this as he went or if he had thought it out in advance. Either way, it was impressive. This guy was a leader.

“Guards borrowing guns from the gun library is fine and I can’t fault those loaning guns to want to get them back,” Rich said. “But I have to say that my preference would be for direct loans to people. This way, people would have the loaned gun with them in their homes. Armed home owners will be our best defense against crime. Don’t forget, the majority of crime will be among neighbors, not from outsiders.”

It was silent. People either hadn’t thought of that or didn’t want to hear it.

“Yep, I know it sounds bad,” Rich said, “but it’s true. We need to keep bad people out and we need to have a plan for if a gang tries to breach the gate, but most crime will be internal.” Rich let that sink in. These people needed to know that. They needed to be realistic. These were the times that called for realism.

Someone asked, “What about communications?”

Rich smiled, “I expected that question from you. Ladies and gentlemen, Curt Copeland here is a ham radio operator. A very, very valuable person to have in a situation like this.” Grant wondered if this was the guy who lived at the house with the huge antenna array that he and Pow had noticed.

Curt just smiled. He loved that he was a valuable person right then. Ham radio operators often spent years at their hobby with no one understanding how important they would be in a disaster. Curt was glad he had a chance to shine. He wished things hadn’t broken down, of course, but since they had, he was glad to be there with many ways to communicate.