An Unwelcome Development

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Time flies when we b hav d fun n sheet n stuff…Zed jus b get d ready;-)

 

Pulling into the lot I noticed Doc's pickup truck pulled over by our make shift clinic. We stopped nearby and none to gently pulled the wounded man out of the truck, leaving him on the hot parking lot. He wasn't happy about it, but was in no position to argue.
I cut the crew loose to go back to the work that I'd interrupted, starting with getting the food unloaded back into the warehouse and the sand bags up on the roof for the defensive position up there.
Juice and I awkwardly avoided each other. Actually, it was just me. He was acting as normal as my behavior would allow. I caught Stan looking between Juice and me, which just made me madder.
Dragging the wounded gang-bangers to the shade, Stan ran over to help me. We dumped him in some shade. I didn't bother securing him, he wasn't going anywhere. “Thanks” I grunted as we straightened up.
“Yeah man. Everything OK?”
“Sure.” somehow I cut off a smartassed remark. Stan hadn't done anything to deserve it. “Sure” I repeated, starting again. “I'm just tireds'all”
“Take a break, man, we've got this.”
I couldn't let go, not yet. Soon, though. I hoped. But right now there was too much to do. Important ground work needed to be laid. And the sad truth was I just didn't trust anyone else to handle it. Hell, I didn't feel competent to deal with it. How could I give it to someone else?
Did I ever mention I have issues with delegating?
“Thanks, Stan. I do appreciate the offer, and the help. Couldn't do it without you. I'll take a break soon. Meanwhile, I need that inventory finished up. Cool?”
“Cool” Stan replied simply, then turned and jogged over to the warehouse.
I looked down at the wounded man, who looked up at me briefly, looking away quickly before I could perceive it to be an act of defiance. Like all predatory pack animals, he had a strong sense of pecking orders, dominance, and eye contact.
I handed him one of my water bottles. He struggled to open it one handed, his left arm rendered useless by Lyle's shot through the shoulder. The leg wound didn't seem life threatening.
Reaching down I twisted the cap off for him and he drank deeply, twin rivulets running down each side of his mouth, as he greedily poured more than he could swallow. After a moment he adjusted the flow rate to something his esophagus could handle. His Adam's Apple bobbing up and down with the passage of the life sustaining liquid.
He slowed, then stopped, half the bottle gone in a handful of seconds. He risked a look at me and handed the bottle back. I shook my head and he took a final sip before cradling the precious container against his abdomen.
“You were coming to check on your homies?”
He stared at me for a moment before looking away. He seemed surprised, more that I talked to him at all, than the actual question itself. After a moment's hesitation he nodded.
“They took longer to come back than they were supposed to?”
Another nod, slightly less delay.
“What happens when you don't show up?”
No response.
I nodded towards the building in front of us. “I've got a good doctor in there. You have a pretty good chance of living if you get some treatment. But I'd need a pretty good reason to spend his time and resources on saving you.”
You could see the wheels spinning as he weighed his options. I waited out the process. Until I saw it shut down with no result. Lightly kicking the wound on his leg got the cogs turning again.
“Yuh jus' goan kill me anyways. Wha' fah I should hep yuh?”
“Fair point. Maybe you tell me what I want to know, and then I just get rid of you. Could happen, right?”
He nodded, a question in his head, wondering where I was going. But that's as far as he was going.
“But maybe, maybe if you are helpful, I might be interested in keeping you around. Take a look over at the corner of that other building.”
His eyes followed to where my hand pointed. They widened as he recognized his fellow gang members working on getting sandbags onto the roof. Seeing enough, he looked at me. “Master duz be wha'in me fah he slave?” He laid on the accent thick.
I shrugged. “Up to you. I'm not interested in slavery and don't want any slaves. Prisoner is what you are. People have to work to eat, fars I'm concerned.” He just watched me, expressionless. Totally blank.
“You can't work, because of your injuries. So, you'll have to earn your keep with information. At least for now.”
Still nothing on the still face. I kept going.
“You give me information, we get you healed up, least you'll have some options. Things can always change. Ain't much chance of change once you're dead.”
A flicker. A quick shift of the eyes. The cogs were turning again.
“So whatcho wanna know?”
“By the colors you're flagging, I'm guessing you're out of Jones Bay?”
“White boi duz pays 'tention”
I shrugged. “Not like you guys make a secret of it.”
Then it was his turn to shrug.
“You guys are a ways from home. OHC and PMP didn't give you any trouble coming through there turf to get here?”
He sucked his teeth. “Sum white boi done mash up deh OHC and PMP brudders, bad, meh sohn! Ain nuddin' lef' a dem!” He shook his head in wonderment and satisfaction of a solid job well done, even if it was by someone else. “Yeah deh mon, sum dude name star' wid a 'Zee' or sumsuch. One bad-ass dude!”
Footsteps running in our direction interupted our discussion. We both looked at the source. A young boy, somewhere north of ten, was running across the parking lot. Spotting us, he changed direction and headed our way. While he was still twenty yards off, his excitement took over and he started calling. “Mr. Zed! Mr. Zed!
As I waited for him to reach us, I snuck a peek at the prisoner. The cogs had started spinning again with this new input and he finally put it together. His eyes widened with the realization. I let him stew, my attention fully on the latest arrival.
“What's up, young sir?”
“Miss Zelda needs to see you!”
“Is it urgent?”
He just looked at me, shifting his weight from foot to foot, dealing with something over his pay grade; a judgment call. I helped him along.
“Is anyone hurt?”
He shook his head quickly, relieved at the progress we were making towards finishing up his duty.
“Good.” I smiled kindly. At least, I hopped it was kindly. It's what I was going for. I guess I hit the mark, because he calmed down and slowed the side to side shuffling.
“Do you think Miss Zelda could wait five or ten minutes for me?”
His attention vacillated between my M4 and the Glock on my hip. A boy fascinated by weapons. How very strange.
I smiled inwardly to myself, trying to put myself in his position, thinking back to when I was that age, and my own fascination with all things weapon. He realized he'd been asked a question by an adult and that he'd been spacing. He re-ran his mental tape back a few seconds, cogitated, and came up with an answer.
“Yes”
“Cool.” I shot his another smile. “Please tell her I'll be there in a few minutes.”
He'd made it almost up to full speed before he realized he might have been rude to an adult by just running away. Without breaking stride, he half turned, looked over his shoulder and waved. “Bye Mr. Zed!”
I laughed at his youth, my face split by a grin. A grin which slid right back off my face as I turned back to the 'banger.
I think he was sorry to see the distraction leave. His attitude had changed subtly. “Yo goan pu' mah hed uhpon no stick, nah?” He pleaded hopefully.
I laughed. Deep in the belly. Absurdity drove it at first, but calculation soon took over. He was transfixed, unable to pull his eyes away from me. He was well and truly frightened. Which was hilarious. Frightened? Of me? I had to work to keep that thought from setting off another bout of laughter. I took a deep breath, trying to get a hold of myself. I could feel it. The slippage.
Lord I needed some rest.
I dragooned a couple of nearby workers to help, and we carried the prisoner into the clinic. Denise directed us to a room that was still very much in transition, but did have an exam table of sorts. An interior door on two file cabinets with a thin pad that looked like it came from patio furniture.
Our prisoner was comfortable for the first time in an hour, or as comfortable as one can be with two gun shot wounds. I slumped in a handy chair.
My head snapped up when Doctor Shoemacher entered the room. I guess I drifted off.
Not good.
“What do you want me to do with this one?” Doc was surprisingly curt.
“Fix him up, if it's not too much trouble.” I'm never at my best when I wake up, especially if I've been startled awake. At least that's my excuse for the sarcasm.
“Are you going to kill him, afterwards? Wow. Where'd that come from? “I mean, why should I bother, if he's going to end up dead anyway?” Hmmm. Something else going on there. My thoughts shifted to the pathetic little bundle we brought in earlier.
“Did we lose the little girl?” I gambled on an intuitive leap.
He didn't answer, which was answer enough.
“I'm sorry. I know you tried. Never easy, is it?”
“Damn it! Easy? I've never lost a child before. I've never lost anyone, until all this stupid fighting started. When's it going to end? No child should be dying of dysentry in the twenty first century!”
“I'm afraid we've slipped a century or two doc. No one's happy about it. Reality is, you're going to lose some patients. But you're going to save more. People that wouldn't otherwise make it. I know it's not much, but it's all we've got at the moment.”
The 'banger was following our conversation. Taking it in, puzzling it out.
“Will it ever get better?” Doc was grasping for hope. Bastard that I am, I didn't give him much.
“Maybe. Probably not real soon. I feel like things could easily go either way. The only thing keeping the whole thing from sliding off the edge is good people continuing to do good things, until it turns the balance back in our favor.”
“Hmmm.” He mulled my answer for a second and turned his attention to what he did best, fix up broken bodies. “So. Are you going to kill him? After you're done getting information from him?” This was starting to get repeatative.
“He thinks I'm going to stick his head on a pole.”
“Wonder where he'd get an idea like that?” sarcasm thick enough for a knife.
“Ask him”
Doc looked at the gang member, who just returned the look. A pair of EMT shears came out of a pocket and Doc started cutting the shirt and pants away from the wounds so he could see what he was up against. But he wasn't going to give up so easily.
“Why do you think Zed's going to put your head on a stick?”
He didn't get an immediate answer. Then the patient sucked in a deep breath in obvious pain, as the doctor misjudged and prodded the bullet hole too vigorously.
“Wha'?! Everybody duz noes about dem hed dem. Don't go 'round deh nor' side 'less yo' wan end up deh same!”
Doc looked at me and I returned it with a gaze that was probably more smug than it should have been. Word was getting out, and my signage was having the desired effect. It also let us know that the Coconut Telegraph was alive and well.
“At this time,” I started, very judiciously “I have no plans on removing this young man's cranium and using it for a sign.” Both the patient and Doc visibly relaxed.
“Of course, that could change, depending on how cooperative our friend is.”
Doc was ignoring me at this point, focused on his work. I let him be, taking a quiet moment to go over what I still needed to do today, and suddenly remembering that I was late to see Ms. Zelda. The slippage continued. Things were running out between my fingers no matter how hard I tried to hold on.
I could feel my grasp weakening.
Deep breath. I stood and stretched. Took a drink and another breath. “So.” I paused until the 'banger looked at me. “When are you expected back, and more importantly, what happens when you don't show up?”
Doc gave me a startled look then went back to his work.
“Meano”
“Bullshit! You'll have to do better than that. Here. Let me make it easier for you. When are you expected back?”
He shrugged his good shoulder. I was about to get angry but he forestalled me. “Dis affernoon, late. Dark mabe so.”
“Will your boss send anyone out tonight? To look for you?”
He shook his head with no hesitation. “Nah tonigh' fah sho, meh sohn. Ih duz be dangerous afer dark, check?”
“How many men do you have?”
He paused to think before replying. “Tree hunre'”
“Doc, can I borrow one of your scaples? I had trouble getting through the spine with my Bowie, last time. A finer, sharper blade might be the way to go.”
Doc didn't have a chance to answer. The prisoner blurted out; “bou' fiddy”
“That makes more sense. Before or after?”
“Befo' o' afer wha'?
“We killed over a dozen of you friends.”
He deflated at the though. “'fore'” he let out.
I patted him on his good leg. “Thanks. That helps. I'll let you keep your head where it belongs, on top of your shoulders.” I managed, barely, to suppress the laughter that the sight of his relief brought up. “I'll want to talk to you again in a bit. Meanwhile I have some other work that needs to be done. You rest up and get better. And don't try nothing.” I stared him down, my facial expression dead flat. “Or I will hunt your ass down. And you know what will happen then, check?
He managed a dry swallow and a quick short nod.
I left the room and stopped quietly to listen. “Ih be true?” the patient asked Doc.
“What's that?”
“Dah he duz eat de hard ah he victim dem?”

I walked away before Doc could answer. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it.

 

Heheheheheeeeeee….happy new year Zen, happy new year indeed! Great start on 2015 ;-)

 

Thanks Zen, been waiting for this

 

Je suis Charlie Martel!

 

B gots d beeg hammer ;-)

 

Thankyou Sir...

 

Thanks for the update.

 

Great Stuff zen thanks

 

I like how Zen has tied all this back into the unwelcome sign, i.e. the head on the post.

 

"Kill one, terrorize ten thousand!" And I would only add; put it's head on a stick so those with short attention spans won't be allowed to forget…n alls dat sheet & stuf!

 

“So, how're you getting along?” I'd walked over to the housing project and found Zelda and the out house crew. A larger crowd stood around watching, listlessly. “I got your message that you wanted to see me.”
“We got the first one done. Thought you'd like to see it before we start on the next one.”
I nodded and approached the outhouse. It was on runners like I'd specified. I noticed a loop of rope on one side and realized it's purpose. Grabbing it I tugged. Nothing happened so I put my whole body into it. I managed to shift the shed about a foot.
“Best to have two, three people” One of the men that helped build it came over and gave me a hand. With two men, moving it was fairly easy.
We'd exposed the hole it had been positioned over. With nothing to shore up the sides, the depth was limited to about four feet. That would fill fairly fast. I'd have to look into ways to crib the sides to get more mileage out of each hole.
We shoved the unit back in place. I walked around it noting the outside hole had a neatly fitted cover over it.
I opened the door, a typical interior type door to find a neat space with a toilet seat and toilet paper holder. No TP thought. I came back out to find some expectant faces.
“Looks great guys! Very nicely done!” They rewarded me with beaming smiles, happy with the praise, happier with the accomplishment.
“I noticed no toilet paper”
“Ween ha' much” one of the workmen said. “People duz haf ta bring dere own.”
I nodded. “Makes sense. My wife can help out. She's growing a bush that has leaves that are perfect for that. Grows real easy. We can start them around here. Just grab a handful before you go in.”

We went over some other particulars and then I led Zelda away, leaving the workers to start on the next outhouse. We strolled until we were far enough away to have a private conversation. Zelda opened.
“What's next, then?”
“Not sure yet. We need to work that out. Lot's of things need doing. Security is high up there, as is food.”
“We have plenty of food.”
“For now.”
She nodded. I was telling her what she already knew. “We have to think ahead.” She turned to look at me. “How long will we be on our own?”
I stopped and returned her look, shrugging. “Wish I knew. It's been a bit over a month and we still don't really know exactly what happened. What little we've pieced together, the States got nailed, hard. Electro-Magnetic Pulse destroyed most of the electronics that control daily life. Government wasn't ready for it and in no position to handle that size of an emergency.”
I had Zelda's attention. She didn't interrupt, so I kept going. “We've seen when a couple of locales got hit by some disaster, it started to tap out FEMA's ability to deal with it. Can you imagine when the whole country is a disaster? Including the government?”
“What about help from other countries?”
“Canada and Mexico were effected too, from the reports we've been getting. They aren't in any position to help the U.S. They're hunkered down, trying to get themselves back in order.”
“No. I meant for us. Could we get help from other countries?”
I shook my head and gave another shrug. “I don't know. I'm not counting on it. Something's not right with Europe, but the information we have is really sketchy. If any aid is available, it's going to go to the big boys first. We'll be down the list aways.”
“Puerto Rico? Dominican Republic? They're bigger than us and close by.”
“True. And we'll need to figure that out at some point. But remember how bad PR was in normal times? Violence was off the chain with gangs running the police out of some areas. I'll bet that they are going through much the same thing as we are, but even worse.”
“This is worldwide then?”
“How can it not be? Anything that strong effects the U.S. Will have repercussions that are wide spread.”
“What about South America and Africa?”
“Africa. Yeah. They've got nothing for us. I have a feeling the northern part will be embroiled in whatever is going on in the Middle East. SubSahara? They were getting bailed out during good times. They probably aren't too terribly effected by this, but they won't be in any position to help anyone else.”
“So South America then.”
I half successfully suppressed a premonitionary shudder. “Maybe.”
Zelda was unsurprisingly perceptive. “You're worried. About what?”
Another shrug, mostly to dispel the last of the shudder. “Don't know, exactly. I just get a weird vibe when I think about South America. I'm probably making things up. It's nothing.”
She looked at me hard, not buying it but not pursuing it either. Instead she changed track. “Ok. We're on our own. Back to my original question. Now what?”
“We get you more organized so you can take care of yourselves first, and then hopefully, get to the point where you have some excess and can take care of others.”
She nodded to herself, firming things in her mind. “There's going to be a lot of adjusting going on. There'll be a lot of resistance, make no mistake.”
“Yup. People hate change. But they won't have any choice. And they know it. You'll just have to handle them carefully.”
“Me?”
“Who else? They already know you, and you've already been in a leadership roll.”
“I just though that you might.”
I cut her off. “You know better than that. For obvious reasons I can't come in here and boss everyone around. I'd get more resistance than would happen just from a change in circumstance. I'll help you anyway I can. You've got my support. But you've got to lead.”
Zelda shook her head and let out a long breath. She'd gotten a whole heap of bad news and now she was being told she was going to be the captain of a leaky boat full of people on the verge of mutiny. What's not to like?
I met her eyes, a sympathetic smile on my face. “You don't have to like it, you just have to do it.” I punctuated it with a wink and was rewarded with a smile that grew from shaky to sure.
“Come on! It'll be easy! You'll see!” I started strolling again. She started, half a step behind and it took a couple of paces for us to match up. I waited, then started in again.
“You'll need to have a meeting. All the people from the community. Surrounding area too, I'm thinking. Tell people what's going on out in the wide world and in our little corner of it.”
“You know all of this better than I do. You should hold the meeting.”
“You know I can't do that, and you know the several reasons why. I'll support you, but you have to lead.”
It was the first time I'd heard a person suck their teeth and sigh at the same time. I was impressed.
“When should I have this meeting?”
“Tomorrow? Not too long, but you, we, need time to prepare.”
She nodded, thinking it through. “I'll have Gloria and S'Hammie put out the word, give it some spin and get a feel for what the people dem are feeling. Get an idea of what their concerns are so I can be ready to address them.”
“Smart. See? You got this. I'll do the same with Kiko.”
“Lots of them people goan be none too happy about things. They too used to living on hand outs. You saw them out there, just watchin' us work and never a thought to helpin' out.”
“I hear ya. I've seen it before. But they'll have to make the adjustment. We just have to be smart about it.”
“It's not what you say, it's how you say it?”
“Pretty much. There's going to be push back. How much will depend on us.” I used the plural to make certain she knew we were behind her.
“Ok, I'm getting a feel for how to do this. You have any other input?”
“Are bears Catholic?” My joke fell flat. I plowed ahead leaving it's stinking carcass behind us. “I've got a couple of ideas. While my direct involvement in the meeting should be limited, I do have some people that you should bring in to talk at your meeting. Some people from my neighborhood that have gone through the transition themselves and can answer your people's questions. I have a Deacon that's handling our spiritual needs. He'd lend a certain gravitas to your proceedings, unless you have someone here?”
“No, not in the community itself anyway. Maybe nearby? Probably shouldn't count on that though. I'd be pleased to have your reverend attend. By the way, should we have food available?”
“Oh absolutely!”
Zelda was somewhat taken aback by just how positive my response was. “Food is a pacifier. It's hard to be angry when you are eating or when you have a full belly and are satisfied. I'd start out with a big meal, maybe picnic style? Then continue to have food available through out.”
“Makes good sense. So that's why my boss always had dumb bread and johnny cake dem at his meetings!” She chuckled at the memory, realizing that she'd been subtly played by her supervisor. “I know I've taken a lot of you time, Mr. Zed, but could we sit down later and write out an agenda. Help me get organized?”
“I thought we talked about the mister thing.” I scolded playfully. “Absolutely. Would you mind coming over to me at the compound? Early evening?”
“Thank you so much. I appreciate what you're doing here Mist, er, Zed. I'm still not sure what to make of your help, with everything we've gone through recently, but I'm just going to put my faith in the Almighty that He's sent you here to help us.”
“Probably safer to put your faith in enlightened self interest, but I won't begrudge you your spiritual comfort. Hard for me to believe that I'm serving as anybody's instrument.”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
“And He's got a wicked sense of humor.” I returned. “Regardless, I really will do my best to help you folks out. You have my word.” I reached over as we kept pace, holding out my hand. Zelda shook it with her previous firmness. I let go but she held on for a moment, searching my eyes.
“I do believe you mean that.”

We came to the end of a block and turned north to head back. The afternoon sun was starting to cast longer shadows and we walked in their welcome coolness. With the shift in the Sun, the wind changed, coming down off the hills towards the sea, a refreshing caress on my face and carrying away some of my sweat. I looked up to make sure it wasn't the gust front of a squall. Cotton candy cumulus clipper ships ran before the wind on the deep blue sky. Looked like smooth sailing without the dread dark line of a storm front. The superstitious part of my primitive brain hoped it was an auspicious omen.

 

And we just keep rolling along, thank you Sir...

 

Waiting for the shiftless lot of stand around toads to start putting their hands out and hitting Zed wide dat gimme sum, sheet n stuff! It's coming…will Zelda be up to 'that' challenge? Will Zelda actually become the #2 in control of Zed n alls dat sheet n stuf? Inquiring 'lay a bouts' want to know.

Edit- picture deleted.
YD

 

Good stuff Zed, thanks.

 

I'm ready for another fix...

 

ahem

 

thank you for your fine stories,john............keep up the good work

 

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