Glen Tate - 299 Days - The Community

“There is one thing you can do for me, Mary Anne,” Mrs. Roth said.

“Of course, what?” Mary Anne asked.

“When my muscles won’t move anymore, I won’t be able to breathe. It’s already hard now. I don’t mind dying, but it will be scary to not be able to breathe. I’d like someone here with me when it happens. I don’t want any pain drugs or anything—you probably don’t have any out here—but I do want someone around. And I want to tell my stories to someone. I have a lot of time to think all day and to remember. I want someone around. Could you be here?”

Mary Anne started to cry. Lisa didn’t; she’d seen enough tragedy in the ER that things like this didn’t affect her like the first time she saw someone about to die.

“Don’t cry, hon. Don’t cry,” Mrs. Roth said. She was having trouble breathing again. She struggled to put up her hand for Mary Anne to hold. They stayed there for about twenty minutes. Mrs. Roth started to breathe well again. “Thank you, hon,” she said, her voice very weak. “Doctor, you’re welcome to stay, but I bet you have lots of patients to see. I appreciate what you’re doing for everyone out here. But all I need is for Mary Anne to stay.”

Lisa had never been kicked out by a patient. “Of course, Mrs. Roth,” Lisa said. “If you change your mind and need any medical help, tell Mary Anne and I’ll come and do all I can. Thank you again for all you’ve done for us out here. Mary Anne tells me the canning supplies and knowledge are invaluable. We will never forget you.”

Mrs. Roth smiled. It was the deepest, warmest, most satisfied smile they’d ever seen.

Lisa left. She’d watched so many people die, but this felt different. It would be the first death out there. But, she knew it wouldn’t be the last. That was the part that scared her the most.

It was time for Grant and the Team to go to work. Yeah, that’s right. Go to work. Grant thought about that. Go to work. It felt good to think that. It felt reassuring. They’d get through this. It’s a job. A damned cool one and one he was lucky to have. But, it was a job. He needed to treat it like one.

Grant wanted his guys to think of it this way, too. They were gathering by Mark’s truck getting their gear on. “OK, gentlemen, let’s go to work,” Grant said. They smiled.

Armed serenity, Grant thought. That’s what it was: armed serenity. That was how he described the feeling of being with his guys like this. Grant flashed back to his childhood when he went to sleep with the .22 rifle because he expected his dad to stab him in his sleep. That’s why, Grant thought, he felt so comforted by guns. He knew what it was like to need the protection. That’s why armed serenity made so much sense.

They would have a new guest in the truck today—Paul. He was very glad to be riding along. He had on a pistol belt; a regular belt with a cheap Uncle Mike’s holster containing a large revolver. Grant pointed to Paul’s revolver and said, “That works fine.” He wanted Paul to know that it didn’t take a Glock with a $300 Surefire light on it in a Raven Concealment holster to be equipped to defend himself. Revolvers had been defending people just fine for over 150 years.

Paul grabbed a shotgun and asked Grant, “Should I bring this, too?”

“Nah,” Grant said. “I think it will get in your way.” Paul would need his hands free for what Grant had in mind for him that day. Besides, the Team had plenty of firepower with them.

Paul and Grant walked out to Mark’s truck. Mark saw Paul going to the Grange and was proud. He was thankful that Grant was getting Paul involved. Mark was thankful for a lot of things lately.

Grant offered to let Paul ride in the cab since he’d probably have trouble getting up into the back of the truck. Paul shook his head and headed to the back. It was a few feet from the ground to the tailgate. He looked at the height he had to get up over, put his hand on the tailgate and threw himself onto the tailgate. The truck bounced up and down when he hit the tailgate. But he did it. He set a goal and did it. He smiled slightly. He had made his point: he would work his ass off to do what was necessary. Grant would rather have a guy with the right attitude than a perfect set of abs.

In fact, Grant noted to himself, it looked like Paul was losing some weight. His tee shirt seemed a little looser around the collar. Grant would pay attention to this and see if this apparent trend was continuing. It made sense, given the can-do attitude he’d just shown by getting into the back of the truck.

The ride to the Grange was spectacular, as always. Grant looked at the guys and said what was becoming another morning tradition, “This never gets old.” They smiled and nodded. They knew how lucky they were to be there instead of the city. They knew they had an important role out there, and that they looked cool doing it.

People were waving to them along the way, though it was less of a thrill for them to see the Team than the previous two days. Most had already seen them, so the novelty had worn off. But still, people were smiling and glad to see the volunteer police force protecting them. It was that gratitude that motivated Grant. That, and the fear of the bad people outside the Pierce Point gates. And probably a few within the gates.

They pulled into the Grange. There were quite a few people there, but only two vehicles. Grant assumed people must be walking to the Grange or sharing rides. Gas was short, very short. The idea of driving alone to go somewhere now seemed like a preposterous luxury.

Paul was the closest to the tailgate. He looked at the ground, put his hand on the tailgate, and jumped down, landing perfectly. It was hard for him to do, but he was going to do it. The rest of the guys jumped out of the truck effortlessly.

They went in and found Rich at a card table, looking at the plat maps. He was glad to see the Team and wondered who the fat guy was. Rich had seen him at the first Grange meeting, but didn’t know his name.

Grant made the introduction. “Rich, this is Paul Colson, Mark’s son.”

Rich shook Paul’s hand, “Pleased to meet you again.” Rich wondered why Grant decided to bring him along.

Grant said to Rich, “Paul is a metal fabricator. He has some equipment back at his house. I thought you could find a use for someone with his skill.”

Rich nodded. He and Grant thought the same way.

“Like,” Grant said, “how about a real gate for the entrance? Moving a car back and forth takes a ton of time and too much gas.”

Rich smiled. “Yeah, Dan wanted to get a swinging metal pole across there that we could open and close with just one person.” He looked at Paul, “Is that something you could build?”

“Sure,” Paul said with a smile. “Piece of cake. It’ll depend on what kind of materials we have.” Paul was thrilled about making the gate. He had a purpose now. He’d show everyone how useful he was.

“Well,” Rich said, “Dan is down at the gate and I need to get you guys coordinated with the gate guards. Let’s go down there.”

They piled back into Mark’s truck. Paul jumped up into the back. This isn’t so hard, he thought. It felt good to be outside doing things and being with these guys. It sure beat sitting around the house thinking about how much he hated his ex-wife. And eating.

Rich grabbed his handheld CB radio. He told the gate they were coming. Scotty had his CB, too. They talked about what channels they’d use.

Scotty told Rich, “I have a ham handheld, too.” Ham radios were far more potent than CBs but, before the Collapse, required an FCC license to operate. The licenses were pretty easy to get; it only involved a simple test. “Hams are way better for longer range and more secure communications,” Scotty said. “Let me know how I can help with that.”