“I know,” Cindy said. “I know. They need hope. I know.” Rich could tell that she needed hope herself. And that was much harder now that she’d seen what was going on in town. She got out of the truck.
Rich noticed that Pow and Ryan were still sitting in the truck.
“You guys gonna get out?” Rich asked, puzzled at why they hadn’t jumped right out.
“Making some notes and maps,” Ryan said.
Rich grinned. Wow. He was so lucky to have all these amazing people here. What a treasure trove of human beings.
Rich thought about all the work he needed to do. It would be a few minutes before Grant and the Team got there. He was hungry. He headed over to the volunteer fire station to see if there was some food. Everyone was asking him how things were in town. “Fine,” he’d say. “We’re way better off in here, but there’s hope.” That’s all he’d say over and over again when he was asked the question.
Some people asked him what the purple and gold armband was for. He told them that it was safe passage into town. That was good for them to know: there was such a thing as safe passage, but you needed a pass. And only Rich had it so don’t try going into town on your own.
Rich ate some lunch. Beans and rice with some deer meat. One of the Mexican ladies in Pierce Point made lunch. It was fabulous. She was grinning from ear to ear; she loved to cook for people.
They had been eating traditional foods like hamburgers up until now. Rich could tell that the “store bought” kinds of food, like hamburger buns and cheese must be running out. It was back to basic staples now. Hopefully those FCards would arrive just in time. For the first time, Rich was getting a little worried about the food situation.
After a while, Dan, Grant and the rest of the Team showed up. Pow and Ryan joined them since they had first-hand accounts, and now notes and maps, to add to the debriefing. Rich took them out to his truck so the guards couldn’t hear. Rich told them about everything he learned on the trip into town. Getting FCard food from town quickly emerged as the most important item. They agreed to get working distributing the FCard applications. The next issue was who would go into town.
“How do we control who goes in?” Grant asked.
Rich pointed to his armband. “I got the only one.” That was a very effective way to control who went into town. They agreed that they’d round up any Marine fatigues they had out there—Ryan might have the only set—and get a few young “Marine looking” guys to be the ones to go into town. The “Marines” would have fake squad numbers and act like they were part of the “five squads.” They would be sworn to secrecy. The Team would go into town, too, in full kit. They would make up fake “contractor” personalities. Grant and Wes wouldn’t go into town because of the POI and AK things. They talked about gasoline and how to pay for it to go to town.
They decided that runs into town would only be for FCard food. No vice runs. If people wanted booze or whatever, they had to risk it on their own.
Actually, it was not OK for people to go do that. Pierce Point didn’t need people spending their gold, silver, ammo, eventual FCards, or cash on that stuff. They needed people to hold onto assets and spend them on food. They didn’t have the time or resources for that kind of stuff. They wouldn’t “outlaw” vice items at Pierce Point, but they would not give people rides to town to get them. The meeting out at Rich’s truck broke up. It was 1:30 p.m.
People were getting in trucks to go to the Grange for Mrs. Roth’s funeral. They left enough guards, but most people went to the Grange.
There were more people at the funeral service than at a typical meeting at the Grange. There were new faces there. Many people were more drawn to a funeral than to the “politics” of running the place.
Fair enough. Not everyone had to be interested in what happened at the Grange meetings. “Politics” had acquired such a well-deserved dirty name with all that happened, so people couldn’t be blamed for shying away from it. At least the new people were out of their homes and involved in a community event, even if the occasion was not a happy one.
Pastor Pete conducted the service. He kept it non-denominational and didn’t proselytize, but he acknowledged that Mrs. Roth was a Christian. Mary Anne told the story about Mrs. Roth’s absolute lack of fear about dying. That touched a lot of people. Several were crying. Many people at the service were strengthened by Mrs. Roth’s bravery. They knew they might be dying soon, too. They wanted the peace Mrs. Roth had.
When the service was over, most people stayed and talked. Grant had never seen this before. Sure people talked for a few minutes after a funeral, but not an hour. Grant reminisced that funerals during peacetime—Grant marveled that he was calling the past “peacetime”—ended at a particular time because people had to get back to work or pick up their kids and take them somewhere. There was a hustle and bustle to get back to. Not now. Almost no one had a “job.” In fact, Tammy was the only person Grant knew with anything like a real job. With the gate and Grange guard duties taken care of at the moment, there was really no reason anyone at Pierce Point had to leave. Most of them hadn’t seen anyone other than their neighbors for days.
People were talking about all the things affecting them. They were making arrangements to share and trade things. “Come on over and we’ll can those,” was something being overheard. Or “I’ve got some .22 shells. I need that old limb that blew over cut up and cut into firewood. Can you come over with your chainsaw?”
Not everyone was in the sharing and trading mood. Some people, almost all of them new faces who hadn’t been to the Grange meetings, just sat back and watched. Grant got the feeling that they were sizing it all up. They weren’t mentioning they had food or something of value. They either didn’t have much or they were afraid of letting people know that they had anything. Or both. Or maybe they were Loyalists who still thought their government would ride in and save the day.
Grant tried to mentally catalogue these people. He knew they would be trouble. Probably not violent trouble, but they would be the kind of people who looked to the community to support them without offering to do anything in return. This would be hard for them to pull off because if they wanted a meal card they needed to do something for the community. Grant smiled to himself. The meal card system was a thing of beauty. He was so glad he read that novel that provided the meal card inspiration. He would have never thought of that on his own.
Grant noticed that a board had gone up at the Grange called “Wanted/For Sale.” It had index cards on it with things people wanted to buy and sell. Grant found Ken Dolphson and showed him the board. Grant suggested that Ken start putting the items on the board in the Pierce Point Patriot. It would boost readership. Ken laughed and said, “I can tell our little economy out here is taking off. I now have competition.” That was good news.
Grant noticed that more people were wearing pistols. Mostly revolvers and some in makeshift holsters. Others were tucked in belts. There were bulges in pants pockets that Grant surmised were small handguns. The people who had been at the Grange meetings seemed more likely to be armed. None of the new faces had a visible pistol. It was like people were realizing that other people were wearing pistols so it was OK for them to. It was taking time for people to feel comfortable carrying a gun. But they were.
Before the service, Grant asked the Team to store their ARs out with Chip. He thought it was somehow disrespectful during a religious funeral service to be sitting in the audience with a rifle. For many people, it was the first time they’d seen the Team without their rifles. It added a solemnness and respectful feeling to the service.