Glen Tate - 299 Days - The Community

Grant looked at his guys in their kit. They were bad ass, but clean cut. Exactly the two things Grant wanted to convey to Rich and the rest of the community. Effective, but controllable. That was the message Grant wanted to give to the Pierce Point people: the Team was effective, but not radical.

“Let’s go show them duck hunters how we do it,” Pow said when they were leaving the yellow cabin and heading to Mark’s truck.

Grant had to stop that.

“Hey, man,” Grant said, “I get the ‘duck hunter’ thing and totally agree,” Grant said in a rare public rebuke of Pow. “But the locals can’t hear us talking like that. This is their playground. We’re the guests. I don’t want the duck hunters jealous of us or thinking we’re mall ninjas. We need them as much, or more, than they need us. So you guys need to do what you did last night at the Grange, which was perfect. Lots of ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ and ‘how can we help.’ Does that make sense?”

Grant knew that the local boys and girls had skills and were a huge asset. “Many of those duck hunters,” Grant said, “are bad asses in their own way. They know this area like the back of their hands. They’ve been shooting since they were little kids. They have used the same rifle or shotgun for years and know it well. They can stay out in the cold and rain for hours waiting for something to move and then take it with one shot. That will make them great guards.”

The guys didn’t appear convinced. Grant continued, “So while we’re way better at many things, I don’t want you guys to write off the duck hunters. When you’re hungry and there’s duck for dinner, you’ll appreciate the duck hunters.”

The Team smiled. They got it. They could be very good at what they do, they just didn’t need to be dicks about it. Appreciate the help their hosts were providing. After all, the Team was out there to help people and not insult them.

Pow realized that Grant was right. The Team was…a team, and all suggestions were welcomed. Besides, Grant was kind of in charge out there. It was his place. He and his neighbors were feeding them.

Pow said with a smile, “No problem, brother. We’ll low-key it and then go do our thing. Frickin’ well, I might add.”

Grant smiled. Thank God the Team had been together for so long and knew and trusted each other so much. Grant couldn’t imagine a pick-up team of a some guys who just met trying to pull all this off. It took a seasoned team.

Grant knew how to motivate and manage an elite group. He did it with Squadron 3 back in Civil Air Patrol. Motivate the guys so they retain their swagger and want to stay part of the elite group, but at the same time, don’t alienate the regular units and make them jealous. Respect the regular units because they’re much better than the elite guys think.

Grant realized that the Team was Squadron 3 all over again. He had one of those funny feelings where he realized that all those seeming random life experiences he’d had, like Squadron 3, were actually forerunners for things he’d need to do now when it really mattered. Another “coincidence.”

“Oh, hell yeah we’ll do it well,” Grant said, returning to the present moment. Grant looked around to see if Mark or any of the other locals were around. They weren’t. Grant said, “Let’s go show these duck hunters how we do it.” That fired everyone up. Which is exactly what Grant intended.

As they were walking to Mark’s truck, Wes said, “We need to live here, too. I’d much rather get along with everyone.” Wes had been looking for a place to fit in. That place hadn’t been his dad’s house. It hadn’t been all the different high schools. It hadn’t been his job with all those near strangers. It was the Team, and now it was Pierce Point.

Chip said with a smile, “Hey, I’m Uncle Chip out here. They love me. I can fit in with duck hunters just fine.”

Pow, who was a leader of this group, too, realized that he needed to have a role in this. He pointed to everyone and said, “We’re cool with the duck hunters, right?”

Everyone nodded.

“OK, let’s go. Show time,” Pow said with a giant grin.

They piled in Mark’s truck. Manda and Cole waved. Lisa had gone inside. She didn’t like to see Grant with all those guns. It reminded her that he had killed some people and he would be in danger. But she couldn’t stop him. She would if she could figure out a way, but she knew the “gun things” needed to be done. At least for a little while until everything got back to normal.

They went past the guard shack. Paul and Mary Anne were there, rifles in hand. They waved, and Mary Anne snapped a picture.

As they went down the road, Grant felt so alive. There was something exhilarating about riding in the back of a truck with extremely well-armed friends. It never got old. He had done it with the Team when they would drive down range to set up the steel targets that were too heavy to carry. He loved the truck rides with the guys. When Grant would see pictures on TV of military contractors riding together in pickups in Iraq or Afghanistan, or even the Somali men in their trucks, he understood the bond they had. He understood it. And he loved it.

A little way past Over Road, they saw their first residents. They were an older man and woman out walking, holding hands. Their jaws dropped when they saw the truckload of well-armed men. Each of the Team said, “Morning sir” or “Morning ma’am” and tipped their hats, which were the tan baseball caps with a Velcro patch on the front with an American flag. Any resident seeing this would be relieved to have these guys in their neighborhood.

Once they passed the couple, Grant said to them, “That’s exactly how to do it, gentlemen. Those people will go back and tell their neighbors that there is a team of nice SWAT guys here to help. Exactly what we need. Thanks.”

Grant hoped he wasn’t obsessing over this political stuff, but first impressions were everything. And they were dead if the Pierce Point people turned on them. The Team and Grant’s family would need support from the Pierce Point people. There was no way they’d make it through this without help from the community.

Grant decided to have some fun with this, and make a point at the same time. “You know, guys, the more buzz there is about the nice men in the truck, the more the chicks here will want to meet you.” Smiles all around. Chicks had been motivating young men for several thousand years. “Even for you, Chip,” Grant said. Everyone laughed, especially Chip.

As they went past the houses on the road to the Grange, Mark drove slowly. He figured the residents should get a good look at them. Mark loved being a part of this, even if he was only the driver. The guys waved and smiled at everyone. They tipped their hats and said, “Good morning.” They felt like heroes. All this training and expense was paying off. This is what they were supposed to be doing in a disaster like this. It’s what sheepdogs lived for.

They pulled into the Grange. There were several trucks there. The Team jumped out of the bed of the truck while keeping control of the ARs on their slings. They had done this plenty of times before. They’d never shot at anyone or been shot at, but they had the rest of this down. The locals looked at them in shock. Who were these guys? Were they here to help?

Mark was the guide. He was the connection with the locals. He looked for Rich. Rich was in the Grange with a clipboard. Ryan, the Marine, and Dan, the Air Force dog handler, were standing there talking to him.

“Hey, Rich, my guys are here,” Mark said. He loved calling the Team “my guys.”

Rich smiled as the Team walked in. They looked like the Sheriff’s SWAT team Rich had been on briefly, except that they didn’t have matching clothes. They also looked like they would follow orders. Perfect. Rich already knew that these guys would have door-busting duties, with some guidance and additional training from him.