Glen Tate - 299 Days - The Community

Grant collected his thoughts. “I credit my training with these guys for getting me out of the situation. I knew exactly what I needed to do. I wasn’t afraid of gunshots because I’m around them every other Sunday afternoon with these guys. I was shooting at steel targets that night. They just happened to be people.”

Rich and Ryan had shot people. They knew what it was like. Even the most justified shooting wasn’t pleasant.

“Sorry, man, I’ve been there,” Rich said.

“Me, too,” said Ryan.

“Well, it’s over,” Grant said. “I don’t want to do that again, but I sure as hell will if more bad guys charge me and my guys. They had guns and clubs.” Grant shrugged as if to say, “What else can you do?”

Dan came over to whisper to Rich and Ryan. They nodded.

Rich said, “We think we have a role for you guys. I’ll want to see more of you and, quite honestly, get to know you. So you’re officially probationary. But I’m thinking of using you guys for SWAT, if necessary. Entries, that kind of thing. Would that be OK with you guys?”

“OK? Hell yeah!” Pow said, a little too excited. The other guys were elated. Mark was beaming at “his guys.”

Chip wasn’t smiling. “Thanks, Rich, that’s very kind of you, but I’m too damned old for this. I’m…well, I’m in my sixties. I’m in decent shape for an old man,” he said with a smile, “but my door-bustin’ days are over. I can patrol and train others, but I don’t want to slow these guys down.” No one disagreed. They all thought Chip was great, but if a guy thinks he’ll slow the team down, that needs to be taken seriously.

Grant, who was in his forties, wasn’t so sure about busting down doors, either. He’d have to think about it. But, man, he really wanted to do it. If there were bad guys threatening his people and he had a chance to stop it, he would. It was fighting bullies, something he’d been doing all his life. Plus, there was a little pride, perhaps even a little midlife crisis. He wanted to show everyone that a forty-something lawyer could take down bad guys like a twenty-something could. That kind of thinking would probably get him killed, but he was thinking it.

Pow said to Chip, “Well, you can do security onsite during an entry, at least. Make sure those bastards don’t run away from us. We need a guy we can trust out there for that.”

Chip couldn’t resist. “OK, maybe that kind of thing, but I’m not the first in the stack.”

Dan said, “We’ll have tons of uses for you, Chip. You worked in a gun store, huh? You know gunsmithing?”

Chip smiled, “A little. Do you need an armorer?” That was the military and law enforcement term for the person who maintained and repaired a unit’s firearms.

Dan nodded.

“OK, I’m your armorer,” Chip said.

Rich said, “I gotta be honest. There’s another role for you guys,” he motioned to Chip, “all of you guys.”

Rich pointed out toward the surrounding houses. “I want the residents to feel safe. You guys look like you know what you’re doing. Those ARs look pretty badass out here. I’d like to have you on patrol to let the residents know that they have some guys like you on their side. I want the shitbags or potential shitbags in Pierce Point to know that we’ve got some contractor-lookin’ men out here.”

The guys on the Team were loving this. Rich continued, “See, there are two threats here we need to deal with. The first is from outsiders trying to get in. Dan has the gate organized tight and those dogs will keep the gate sealed. The beach patrol will be good for keeping the beaches secure. But the second threat, and maybe the bigger one, is from our own people. The petty criminals out here, and maybe the masses once food gets tight.”

Rich looked at the guys and asked, “How would you feel about patrolling, interacting with the residents, and then being on call for SWAT duties?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Scotty said with a huge grin.

Dan said, “We’ll be working with you, accompanying you, and watching you. We have a lot of experience to show you guys. Let me be honest. If you guys suck, or are cowboys or treat the residents with any disrespect, you’re on guard duty at the gate. Or worse.”

They all nodded. They were being entrusted with a lot of responsibility. They felt honored and determined to do the best job possible to keep their jobs.

Rich was standing next to Grant. Grant pulled Rich over to him and whispered, “Are you giving us this role because we’re good or because we’re all you got?”

Rich smiled and whispered back, “Both.”

The Team and Mark stayed at the Grange the rest of the day. They went over the one map of the whole Pierce Point development that someone had found. They talked about the locations of the few known druggies. They talked about how Dan was running the guard station and went down to get a tour.

The Team would be the “inside guys,” meaning security inside the gate. Of course, the largely well-armed residents would have a big role in their own defense inside Pierce Point.

Dan led the “outside guys,” who were the guards at the gate and the beach patrol.

Around lunch time, something a little strange happened. A couple of ladies came to the Grange and started cooking in the kitchen. The Grange had a large kitchen for feeding many people.

The ladies had sandwiches for the guys and fresh baked bread, which smelled amazing. It was whole wheat, which most of the guys didn’t like before the Collapse, but, now, it was great. Some of the nearby families had small farms, and though they didn’t grow wheat, they had been buying and storing it for a few years, expecting something like this. They were happy to feed the guys who were protecting them.

Grant recognized that as long as the residents had food, and there were several little farms out here, the Team would be fed. The same was true of having an ER doctor. This was a big relief to Grant. He didn’t have enough food for his family and the Team. He had a good bit and it could stretch through shortages from other sources, and the hunting, fishing, and gardening would help, too. But if he and his guys were spending all day patrolling, they couldn’t be gathering food. They needed to be fed. It was a fair trade. Those farms the ladies in the kitchen came from wouldn’t last long without security.

Grant liked this “new economy.” Feed me and I’ll protect you. It beat the shit out of working in an office and paying almost 50% of what he made in taxes to a corrupt government.

Throughout the day, various curious residents came by the Grange. Rich would introduce them to the Team. The guys were doing a great job of “sir” and “ma’am.” They were being humble, yet confident.

When one of the first groups of residents came by and asked Rich what the guys were called, Rich looked at Grant and said, “That’s a good question. What do you call yourselves?”

“The Team,” Grant and Pow said in unison.

“Not real imaginative. But it works,” Grant said.

Rich simply said, “This is the Team.”

In just a few hours, Pierce Point was buzzing about “the Team.” Some speculated they were a SEAL team, which would have made the guys laugh if they’d heard that. The day flew by. The guys were in heaven. This was what sheepdogs like them were made to do. Things didn’t seem so bad when nice ladies were fixing them lunch and everyone thought they were cool gunfighters.

In the late afternoon, they had gone over about everything they had to go over. “Come back here for a 7:00 meeting,” Rich said. “I want to introduce you to the community and to do a bunch of other things.”