Renewal 9 - Delay Tactics (4 page)

As Seth stood next to Terry, Jared looked up and said, “Jesus! This place got a height requirement?”

“No, but we grow good corn for the bulls,” Terry replied.

“Well, I ain’t trying to escape, that’s for sure.” Jared continued to stare at Seth.

“Sue, do you have the keys to his cuffs?” Terry asked over his shoulder.

“Yep. Aggie also brought him a new pair of pants to replace the ones I cut up,” the doctor said.

Jared raised his eyebrows at that. He had already thought about how hard it was to find decent pants when they had brought him in and started cutting. Even with the pain of a gunshot wound, Jared had been thinking of how long he would have to work for the Talley family to replace those britches.

“Good. Seth, will you help him get ready while I go get Bertha?”

“Sure thing, Terry.”

Terry trotted over to the barn where the armored truck was parked and couldn’t help but think about what might have happened if the intruders had managed to set the building on fire. Big Bertha was a gift from the state after the successful rescue in Nashville, and Bill had given Terry nominal ownership of the truck. Terry understood that it belonged to everyone, but he still felt personally attached to the big truck. To lose it would be painful.

He ducked through the door on the town side of the barn, and strode through the slanting light to reach the truck. He opened the door and swung himself up into the seat, inserting the key in the same motion. He still felt a thrill at the turn of the key, and the satisfaction of the big diesel rumbling to life. As the truck warmed up, he dropped to the floor and opened the big doors on the outside wall of the barn. He experienced a moment of shock as he saw the bloodstained grass in full daylight. Why was it harder to see the outcome than it was to pull the trigger? The bodies were long gone, cleaned up by the guard in the dark hours of the morning, but Terry could still feel the presence of death, and he didn’t like it.

He went through the cycle of driving the truck outside, closing the barn doors, and climbing back into the truck. He idled along the gravel road on the north side of town and pulled up outside the clinic. Seth was standing there with Jared, who was no longer a prisoner, but he was fully hobbled by a fresh leg wound. In that case, Terry waved them both up into the cab of the truck with the thought that riding in the back would be very uncomfortable for their passenger. Seth helped Jared mount the tall seat and waited until he was situated in the middle. Seth leapt up to the shotgun seat and pulled the door shut.

Terry left Teeny Town through the gravel version of the main drag, and turned left to follow the perimeter lane to the western gate. The four men guarding the gate had a complete overview of the town and had seen them coming from the moment the truck began to move. They had the gate standing open as Big Bertha reached the fenced border of the community proper. Terry didn’t know the actual boundaries of the community’s land, but he suspected it was well outside this particular gate. He pulled onto the tar and chip access road and accelerated away with an acknowledging wave to the guard.

He turned left again on Blanton Chapel Road and passed the three houses that guarded the front of the community. The houses looked empty, but Terry knew better. Those houses had a long view across the open fields to the south, and even during normal times, were manned with men and women who could easily shoot effectively at a half mile. Terry turned right on Highway 41 and headed straight for Manchester.

“You doing all right, Mr. Cooper?” Seth asked.

Jared was clearly struggling with pain. Each bounce of the truck elicited a wince from the man. “Yep,” he said tightly. “Doing ok.”

“Where are we going?” Terry asked.

“You know where Westwood is?” Jared asked.

“Yeah, I grew up in Manchester,” Terry replied.

“Well, we live out on the end of the neighborhood. Just go past the old school and keep going,” Jared answered. “ I thought you looked familiar.”

“Likewise. How many people living at your place?”

“My wife, my mama, and two kids,” Jared said.

“Ok. I just needed to know if we might have to shoot our way out.”

“Naw... We’re not much for shooting. Don’t even have a decent gun. That’s why I was carrying the gas can,” Jared said.

Terry and Seth were trying to avoid that subject. Neither man responded.

“Listen,” Jared said, “I’m really sorry, you know? You grew up in town. You know how it is. If the people with money offer something, you pretty much have to take it. Otherwise, next time they have a job, they won’t offer.”

“Yeah, I know,” Terry said. “Bill let you off the hook. That’s good enough for me.”

“Seems like there’s a lot of trouble brewing. What’s gonna happen?” Jared asked.

Terry looked past Jared at Seth and received a shrug in return.

“Ok, Jared. You seem like a decent man. I’ll tell you what I think I can,“ Terry said as he slowed down at the edge of Manchester. “The Judge showed up to lay claim to our land. We had a legal claim with the state but he decided to take it anyway. He didn’t bring enough men. We captured the Judge and went to Murfreesboro to ask the state to handle his prosecution, to make it legal. The state needed some help and we ended up tangling with a really bad bunch of characters up in Nashville. We call them the Dragons, but they call themselves the Knights of the White God. We rescued a crew of state police from the Dragons, and captured their leader. We took him back to Murfreesboro, and while he was in jail with the Judge, they threw in with each other, and now we’re facing both groups working together, so yeah, you could say that trouble is brewing.”

“That sounds bad,” Jared said.

“It’s bad. You just told me how it is here in Manchester. If you like it that way, then just put your head down and wait it out. If you want things to change, then you may want to start talking to folks. We have our defenses together, but we could use some help from the people who have been held down by the Jenkins and the other families. I’ve been told we can handle the families. When you throw in a whole dragon army from Columbia, well... They outnumber us by a lot.” Terry gripped the wheel harder as he spoke.

“So, you’re saying I should try to get people to help you fight?” Jared asked. “Is that a way to make up for what I did last night?”

“Well, that’s Bill’s call, but I’d say it will go a long way. Be careful. Trying to ask people for help was Dusty’s job before they took him,” Terry said. He looked out the window at the old Westwood School, and other than dirty black decay and flaking paint, it was a place that could still be used, in theory. All it needed was an entire power grid to keep the air conditioning working. Like most schools, it was updated shortly before the Breakdown, abandoning broad opening windows in favor of so-called efficient designs that became virtually useless without electricity. He drove down Taylor Street, noticing that only about one house in six was still standing. The rest had turned into extended gardens, and the materials recycled into tiny barns and chicken houses. It looked like this corner of Manchester was fairly self-sufficient.

“You folks seem to do all right,” Terry said.

“We’re a long way from starving, but it gets boring eating the same stuff all the time, and we really don’t grow enough to pay for much else,” Jared replied.

“Who set up the neighborhood?”

“My daddy and a friend of his did most of the figuring. He told me once that it took a lot of tries before they got it right,” Jared replied. “All I do is follow what he told me and keep things fixed.”

“Well it looks like it’s working,” Terry said. “Where’s your place?”

“Coming up on the right. Yeah, right here.”

The good news about the Cooper house was that it didn’t have any outright holes showing daylight. The bad news was that it looked ready to collapse. The roof sagged badly, and the porch showed numerous missing pieces. Jared may have had the idea of keeping things fixed, but he didn’t have the skills. No wonder he had jumped at a job carrying an arson squad’s fuel...

The loud diesel had already brought Jared’s family to the porch, where they each balanced on planks between the holes, waiting to see what would happen. Terry brought Big Bertha to a halt and set the parking brake. “Watch me, Seth.”

“On it.”

Terry slid down from the driver’s seat, skipping the step altogether. He walked up to the porch and explained the situation. Seth saw the younger woman nodding, and then gesturing angrily. Her hands were exaggerated by the oversized work gloves she was wearing, making the conversation look comical from the shotgun seat of the truck. After several exchanges, Terry waved to Seth, who left the idling truck, and helped Jared down from the tall seat. Seth half-dragged Jared down the broken front sidewalk by simply holding the man’s right arm. Anyone of normal size would have needed to nestle a shoulder underneath Jared’s armpit, but Seth could just lift.

Jared’s wife began to shriek the moment his feet hit the ground. By the time Seth had helped him into her smacking range, Jared began to wish that Bill had decided to have him killed. She knew what he’d been doing and she was pissed. No, pissed was when he spent money on moonshine. This was way past pissed. He’d be lucky to survive the day.

The kids were still young. They seemed unconcerned about the yelling, so it must have been a common event. They simply hopped across the porch and followed their parent’s into the house. After Seth deposited Jared on a grimy sofa, he rejoined Terry at the bottom of the porch steps. The older woman, presumably Jared’s mother, was speaking quietly with Terry.

“... and after that happened, he turned out dumb as a fencepost,” she was saying.

“After what happened?” Seth asked.

“It seems Jared sniffed a few too many old cans of spray paint or gasoline,” Terry replied.

“Ah. I’m glad we never had any of that. I probably would have tried it,” Seth replied with his stupid but charming look that Terry knew was one of his tricks for making people see him as less of a threat. That look had worked on Terry until he saw Seth fight. The man was dangerous.

“Well, I just want to thank you for bringing him back, gentlemen. After what he tried to do, you would have been within your rights to take him out behind the shed.”

“Well, ma’am... We think he’s really sorry and he won’t do it again.”

“I see to it that he doesn’t. Of course, it sounds like I won’t get a word in edgewise for the next five hours,” she said. “Anything else I can do for you men?”

“If you would, listen to his story and spread the word. You’re probably going to hear a completely different version of events from the families, and we need some help.”

“I’ll do it. My name is Bonnie Cooper, by the way.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Cooper. I’m Terry Shelton and this is Seth Aker.”

“Terry Shelton... You grew up out by the high school.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I know your folks. See them at the farmer’s market from time to time. So, this place my boy tried to burn, it wasn’t over there, was it?”

“No ma’am. It’s out north of town. There’s a community out there, trying to do everything they can to keep the families from stepping on people anymore,” Terry said.

“Well, now... I may have to knock that wife of his in the head just to hear this story,” Bonnie said.

“I’m sure he’d thank you for it, ma’am. We gotta get going. Have a good day.”

“Thanks again, Terry, Seth. Take care.”

Terry and Seth climbed into the truck once again, and Terry backed out into the street. As they pulled away from a waving Bonnie Cooper, Terry just noticed that everyone in the area was watching them drive away. They’d be talking to the Coopers in less than a minute. Word would spread.

Chapter 9 – 6

Gary Tucker Jr. was ready to shoot the next man who came to him with a problem. It was one thing to call up every fighting man in the Knights of the White God army, and entirely another to get them all moving in the same direction. He knew his father would have literally shot a few this morning, just for motivational purposes. Gary had seen what the enemy had done to his men at that moron Wyatt Jenkins’s place, and he could not shake the feeling that he needed every man at his disposal. He was also quite sure he would end up disposing of a great many of them. His father had built the organization while Junior grew up under the Grand Dragon’s sterling example of manhood. They were willing to treat Junior with respect, but that wasn’t the same as the fear and near worship they accorded his father.

They Knights were finally on the road, travelling in 470 trucks at fifteen miles per hour. Too many of the trucks had broken transmissions that no one knew how to fix. Instead, the so-called mechanics simply welded gears together until each handicapped truck would operate permanently, but only in first gear. Gary knew it was on the list to scavenge up some new transmissions, but that task always took a backseat to the endless searching for more weaponry. As a result, they were riding in junk, but were armed to the teeth with the best that could be stolen from Southern Middle Tennessee. In the heart of gun-toting hillbilly land, the pickings had always been good. Sometimes it was risky to take on such well-armed people, but Gary’s father had a way of talking his way into their good graces, and either asking for a donation, or simply waiting until the folks let their guard down, and shooting them where they sat. Either way, by 2049 standards, the Knights of the White God were well equipped.

A smarter man might have gone a different way, taking a less obvious route back to Coffee County, but given the number of things that had gone wrong before even leaving the house, Gary decided to take the shortest, most direct route. The only problem with that, aside from the fact that it was completely obvious, was that the convoy would travel through the heart of Bedford County, and some of the leading citizens of Bedford County loved the Carters.

Years earlier, Bedford County had come to the aid of Manchester in their war against Tullahoma. When Tullahoma was pushed back by their combined forces, they had gone home to lick their wounds for a while. Eventually, Bedford County naturally became Tullahoma’s next target. When Bedford asked Manchester to return the favor, Jerry Doan Jenkins had basically told them to bugger off. Bill Carter got wind of Manchester’s reply and brought out  everyone he had who could handle a gun. He drove his small group over to Shelbyville and offered themselves up to help, as the payback for Coffee County. The horse farmers of Bedford County appreciated his gesture so much that, to this day, Bill and Kirk were known to take trips over to Bedford County just to visit and to get sloshed on free beer.