Pilliars in the Fall (12 page)

“DO NOT
MOVE!” the younger one yelled, his voice cracking slightly.

My hands were still at my sides and within reach of the pistol under my shirt but the guy with the M1A had me square on and at twenty
feet; it would be a Sunday Church Miracle if he were to miss.

“We are just here for the service and to visit some friends. We aren’t going to be any trouble,” Danielle interjected gently. “If you don’t want someone besides yourselves to have a gun, then that’s your prerogative, but we aren’t here to cause any problems."
 

“Look, we’ll clear them if it’ll make you feel better, but our property stays with us,” I offered, still keeping my hands in a neutral spot least the two militia bad asses get jumpy.

“That’s not how it works,” the big one said stubbornly.

“Well it is how it works this time,” I stated and very slowly moved to release the magazine and eject the round from the AK slung on my back. “If you don’t like it, I suggest you go find your Captain. In fact, you probably ought to do that regardless. I’d like to meet the man who has authority over me,” I mocked.

The two of them looked back and forth at each other a few times then lowered their guns slightly, if not completely. I slipped the magazine and single round into my back pocket, feeling very aware of how empty my AK now was.

“Go ahead, this guy isn’t going to let us go anywhere, are you little fella?” I reassured the big one as Danielle cleared her throat at me again.

The M1A toting camo guy whispered something into the ear of his miniature counterpart and then disappeared down the hallway to go find someone to give a report to. I was shaking my head slightly in annoyance and amusement when a friendly and warm voice spoke up behind me.

“You just love ticking people off don’t you?”

“Hey Grant, been a long time,” I turned around and shook the bearded man’s hand.

“Danielle this is Grant, the best lumberjack you’ll ever meet,” I introduced the two with a laugh. The perplexed kid with the ranch carbine aimed at my lower back was momentarily forgotten as I recognized Grant’s
 friendly face.

“How’ve you been?” I asked, honestly happy to see him.

“Oh I’ve been getting along just fine. The kids and grand kids moved up here last month and are shacked up with me at the house so it’s a little tight, but we’re warm and happy to all be together,” he replied. “Hey, you aren’t here with the family are you? I thought they moved?”

“Moved?” I didn’t hide my surprise. “If they did then they didn’t tell me. Guess I'm not surprised that they didn’t… but no, we were just in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop in and say hi. I was actually hoping to catch the Parvishs. Have you seen them around?”

“Oh,” he replied eyeing Danielle with a not quite approving glance. Maybe showing up with a new woman was not going to help my image here very much. “No, I haven’t seen any of them lately, but they're usually late anyhow.”

“Grant, what’s with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum over there?” I nodded my head towards the entrance. “You guy's been having enough problems out here that you need armed guards?”

“A few weeks back we had some people come through and try to rob the kitchen. There were a few gals working in there, getting ready for a potluck for the next day. They were just desperate and hungry and the girls offered them some food freely, but they freaked out and shot old Prudence Crane when the old bat wouldn’t give up the potato salad she had been working on,” he shook his head sadly.

“These boys are from one or two towns over and had some family, a cousin or something that used to attend here. They showed up the next day after Mrs. Crane died. The way I hear it, their family had moved on a while before. They helped with the burial and have been helping us out here ever since.”

“And no guns allowed? Pastor Bill is a shooter; I’ve shot clays with him out behind the church... what made him sign off on something like this?” I asked slightly stunned.

“Pastor’s gone, g
ot called out to another congregation. Church board is running things these days. You’ve been gone a long time,” he answered with a hint of good old fashioned religious guilt thrown in at the end.

“So everyone’s on board with these guys standing over you with rifles at the ready?”

“They’re a good and polite bunch. They mean well, work hard, and are helping to keep everyone safe in exchange for room and board.”

“Just the five of them?” Danielle tried to ask tactfully.

“Hmmm," Grant thought noisily and squinted an eye. "I think so, couldn’t say for sure though. Plus a few of our kids are lending a hand where they can; doing night shifts and stuff to make sure no one else comes looking to take without askin’.”

“Hey kid, what’s your background?” I turned and asked our one remaining guard.

“Eagle Scout and ROTC... cadet,” he said proudly puffing up his chest and placing a hand on the tomahawk at his side. “Woulda been starting my second year in school but they shut down for the winter. Couldn’t keep the heat on or pay the bills or something.”

Great, I was being held at gun point by the Boy Scouts of America.

“And who are you related to here,” I asked him again.

“The Greganiouses, on my momma’s side.”

I didn’t recognize the name, but Grant confirmed it with a nod.

“And while we're askin', who exactly are you... and who’s this, your hired muscle?” the Eagle Scout leered at Danielle.

“Absolutely, and you better watch your mouth. I don’t think your Captain or Commander or whatever he is would be too happy to hear you speaking out of turn,” Danielle rebuffed him easily.

Danielle had done a stint as a drill instructor not too long before she discharged and I could see some of that attitude was still available for her to tap into when needed. I also knew her well enough to know that she didn’t need me to come to her rescue. I had heard enough stories of her putting cocky and arrogant young soldiers in their place, but this kid was really rubbing me the wrong way and on the wrong day.

“Yeah I thought I recognized you from the description. Kind of a firecracker aren’t you? I hear I missed out on a good show out in the woods earlier today. Maybe we could find a place to go around here and have a private viewing?” he smirked again.

Danielle gave me a look to kill. I guess that answered the question about who the group with the drone was with. It also meant there were more than five of them, and they had comms.

I took a small step forward, slightly puffing up my own chest and putting my full size directly in front of him.

“Look you little pissant, I don’t want to hear anything like that again,” I warned him.

I didn’t throw my weight around very often and in fact, I usually forgot just how much bigger I was than most other people until I got right up next to them like I was now. At nearly six and a half feet tall and bulked up as I was, I didn’t mind having the imposing stature to use at certain times... like now.

“Or what?” he said, not backing down.

It was the five pound Chihuahua puppy testing himself against a bull mastiff and I really didn’t have the patience for it.

“Do I look like the type of person to ask ‘or what’ to?” my eyes burned into him. “Listen kid, I’m doing you a favor; I’ll hurt you, but she’ll bury your ass. You keep on talking and her and I will just flip a coin to see which one of us you have the bad luck to deal with.”

Over his shoulder I caught sight of the first camo man door guard returning to his place out front and three others closely in tow. One of them was a white haired older guy, then came a mean looking guy with black scraggly hair and beard, and finally one burly dude carrying a big gun and a hang dog expression bringing up the rear. All of which meant that the A Team was here and I was done screwing around with this little idiot.

“Now get out of here and go shine your boots or some other useless crap,” I berated him and stood firm, staring at him with unblinking eyes until he slunk away muttering something under his breath that I was probably just as glad that I didn’t hear.

Grant's eyes were wide as he stood by, waiting for a lull in the action to politely make his escape.

“I think I’ll mosey on in and find a seat, you two tak
e care of yourselves ya hear?” he said and walked off, not waiting for a reply. He probably figured it was smarter to leave before the next round began.

“You two must be the new ones I hear are looking to see me,” the new older guy in woodland fatigues greeted us. He carried himself like he was of some importance, which really didn’t work well with the physical image that he portrayed.

His poorly trimmed white beard and small beer gut, when added to the thin and white complexion of an office worker type that never saw enough sunlight and the reading glasses perched on his nose, all combined for a slightly doofy appearance. He had a 1911 in a brown leather shoulder holster and thinning grayish white hair in need of trimming, peaking out from underneath his camouflage patrol cap.  It all added up to complete and overall comical look. He did seem to be a nice enough guy though.

“I’m John Short, Captain of the Lightfoot Militia.”

My tight lipped smile and raised eyebrows poorly hid my amused dismissal of a self appointed Captain of his own little Militia groupies.

“That’s some hardware you’ve got there, impressive even for an inaccurate commie gun, I have to say,” he informed me after eyeing the AK slung at my back as if I should value his opinion.

It was a light hearted comment, common among gun guys to critique others choices. Generally speaking, I was not a typical gun guy; I was more about how they got used.

“Yeah well whatever works,” I dismissed his appraisal.

Talking guns with some traditionalist old coot was not on my list of enjoyable hobbies and I had other things on my mind at the moment anyway, but he again persisted.

“What, you didn’t like what Uncle Sam had to offer? At least your lady friend has the right idea,” he nodded in approval at my M1 Carbine hanging off of Danielle’s shoulder.

His question actually turned up my spider sense a little, wondering if this was maybe his way of feeling us out for our own experiences and background.

“They both seem to have worked well enough to win couple of wars,” I relented to his game.

“You sound like you’ve seen that first hand,” the posturing had moved to an obvious effort to find out some information about us.

“Yeah I worked at the McDonalds in downtown Kandahar," I said quickly. "Look if you don’t mind, we're looking for a family that attends here,” I tried to steer the conversation and started to take a step to walk past him into the sanctuary, only to have him block the way, feigning an attempt at being helpful.

“Maybe I can help, who is it you’re looking for again?” he asked politely.

“A friend,” I replied to him slowly. Also noting that the mini moron Eagle Scout from earlier had returned and was headed in our direction once again.

“Well you can see the dilemma I am in. We’re here to protect this place and these people and we don’t know you. I can’t allow you to just walk in here armed and asking questions.”

“And how long have you been coming to this church?” I tried turning the tables on him slightly. He wasn’t completely wrong or out of line, but some brother’s, uncle’s, cousin that I had never seen before was not going to claim more authority here than anyone else. Especially not against the long standing families that I did in fact know quite well... even if they weren’t speaking to me anymore.

“Is there a problem Sir?” The Boy Scout saddled up to his leader’s side.

“Sir…” I huffed sarcastically under my breath which earned me more than one black look.

“And just who the ‘ell are you?” the mean looking guy who had come in with the Captain asked, speaking for the first time and obviously sizing me up in a macho attempt at showmanship.

He looked lean, strong and crazy. It was a body type I recognized as being built inside a gym on machines and protein powder. In his hands was a neat little pistol caliber AR style gun fed by Uzi mags.

He was the one who really caught my attention as a threat, although his partner was nonetheless an intimidating dude. He was taller and bigger than me by quite a bit. He had wide shoulders, a thick chest, trunks for legs and bulging arms. He also had a big HK G3 rifle slung on his back. He didn't have the same body language of the others and seemed curiously more shy and reluctant as well.

“You know, I always wanted one of those…” I looked at the mean guy and challenged dangerously. Danielle stepped in to calm the situation once again.

“We were just out this way and thought we’d stop in to check on some friends from here, It doesn’t look like they’re around,” Danielle batted her eyelashes an extra time I subtlety noticed.

“Did I hear you say you were looking for the Parvishs? Henry and his family right?” the gray haired door greeter interjected ever so helpfully from behind me and in turn causing me to rub the ever growing headache out from behind my eyes.

“Yeah,” I sighed with one less card to play. “Have you seen them?”

“Sure have, or did I should say. About three weeks ago. They stopped by to drop off some stuff at my house. Said they were buzzing out or some such. They seemed to be in an awful hurry.”