As the two Templars approached, Todd could see that they were wearing BDU uniforms and woodland pattern pile caps. Their clothing, too, was clean.
The two men both carried M1A rifles, and wore standard Army issue LC-1 harnesses. Both also carried Beretta Model 92 pistols in Army issue olive drab nylon Bianchi hip holsters.
The older of the two men, about forty-five, with thin features and balding gray hair, greeted Todd and T.K. with the words, “Hello, my name’s Dunlap, which one of you is Mister Gray?”
“I am,” Todd answered. “A pleasure meeting you, sir.”
“And you. This is Ted Wallach. He’s our Com 2—the security coordinator.”
Not knowing what to say next, Todd said, “Nice horse.”
Dunlap crossed his arms and replied, “Nice truck.”
They stared at each other for a few moments. It was Todd who spoke next.
“It seems that we have a lot in common. Tell me, just what sort of survivalist are you?”
Dunlap considered his question, and replied, “I’m basically of the Mel Tappan school, with a little Bruce Clayton and Kurt Saxon mixed in.” Todd nodded his head and echoed, “Tappan was my main influence too, with an admixture of Dean Ing, Rick Fines, Jeff Cooper, Mike Carney, Bill Cooper, and a dash of Ayn Rand.”
Dunlap gave a chuckle. “Your friends are my friends. I guess that puts us on the same team.”
“Perhaps,” Todd intoned, trying to sound ambiguous. He added, “Are you Christians?”
“Of course we are. We have all repented and committed ourselves to Christ. There has been quite a revival at our retreat since the collapse.” Dunlap folded his hands and looked Todd in the eye. He asked, “Now what are the intentions of your ‘Northwest Militia?’”
“Oh, I would assume something very much like the Troy Templars.”
“What do you mean, exactly?” Dunlap asked.
Todd now knew that the ball was placed firmly in his court. He answered resoundingly, “To restore order and the primacy of constitutional law, and to protect free trade and travel.”
“Now we’re talking! We used very similar words when we wrote the bylaws of the Templars.” Both men smiled.
“Just how large is your group, Mr. Dunlap?”
“We have twenty-six members. They range in age from five to seventy-three.
We had twenty-seven, but one of our men died of appendicitis. And yours?”
“We have twelve members. No children—not yet at least. All of the militia members are trained in weapons and tactics, and our oldest member just turned fifty-two. They are all trained and able-bodied.”
“Meaning…?” Dunlap asked.
“Meaning that we can field all twelve members for combat, if need be.”
After pausing and staring at the ground, Dunlap looked up. “I think it might be possible for your group to be integrated into the Templar organization.”
Todd slowly shook his head from side to side. “That isn’t what I came here for. I had assumed that we would be talking as equals. I had cooperation, not consolidation in mind.”
“But our group is more than twice the size of yours. We undoubtedly have a larger pool of useful skills available. We are also on excellent footing, logistically. You see, I was independently wealthy before things fell apart. This gave us the wherewithal to put away a substantial stock of food, weapons, tools, and medical supplies. It only stands to reason that you should come under the wing of a larger, better supplied group.”
Todd frowned. “In the first place, the total size of your group may be larger, but in terms of your actual ability to police a given area, it is probably no greater than ours. As I mentioned before, we can field all twelve of our members. In terms of fit and trained combatants, I would expect that your strength is essentially comparable or perhaps only slightly greater. Also, keep in mind that we’re pretty well squared away logistically, ourselves. We didn’t have the benefit of a ‘Sugar Daddy,’ but we spent every dime we could spare for nearly ten years, preparing.”
Roger Dunlap looked as if he did not like what he had heard. “Look, I’ve made a reasonable proposal, and you haven’t even taken the time to fully consider it.”
“I didn’t consider it because it is totally out the question, Mister Dunlap.
Our militia has its own bylaws, and its own leadership. Granted, our two groups have similar philosophies and goals, but there’s no way that we are going to just ‘come under your wing.’”
“But you’d be part of our organization, with full voting rights.”
“No matter how you cut it, we’d still be relinquishing an independent organization to yours. Furthermore, we’d constitute a minority when votes were taken. I find your proposal unacceptable. I’d rather propose another arrangement.”
“Which is?”
“That our groups retain their independence, but that we form an alliance.”
“I came prepared today only to offer you a part in our organization, Mister Gray. Our group would have to take another vote before we entered into any alliance.”
“Well then, I guess that marks the end of our conversation,” Todd retorted.
Dunlap sighed and said, “What do you say that we meet three hundred yards west of here at noon on the day after tomorrow, under the same conditions?”
“Very well. Please come prepared to discuss the parameters of an alliance.”
“I can’t promise you anything until I consult with the rest of the Templars.”
Todd looked Dunlap squarely in the eye, and enunciated, “When you brief your group about our conversation, please pass on the following message: ‘You will find that the Northwest Militia will be either the most valuable, loyal, God-fearing, and trustworthy of allies, or… if you try to coerce us—the worst of enemies. The choice is yours.’”
“I’ll pass along your message. Goodbye, Mister Gray.”
“Goodbye, Mister Dunlap.”
The two then shook hands, but neither of them managed more than half a smile. With that, they turned and walked away from each other.
As T.K. shut the door on the passenger side of the truck, he asked, “What do you make of them, Todd?”
Todd didn’t answer Kennedy’s question until after he had started the engine of the pickup, and turned it around to get back on the road to Bovill. After this interval, he replied, “That’s hard to say, T.K. That Dunlap character is hard to read. He has a real poker face. At least we found out how large their group is.”
T.K. cocked his head and asserted, “That is if he was telling us the truth.”
“On that particular point, I think that he was. If he wasn’t, I don’t think that he would have mentioned the age composition of his group in the same breath,” Todd said.
After driving for a few minutes in silence, T.K. asked, “So, do you think that they’ll agree to an alliance?”
With a grave voice, Todd replied, “I hope so. If they don’t, things could get real nasty. I tried to make it clear where we stood without sounding too brash, but I wanted to be firm. Like that line from the second Buckaroo Banzai movie: ‘Treat us good and we’ll treat you better. Treat us bad and we’ll treat you worse.’”
After they got back to the retreat, Todd called for a meeting after dinner.
There, he and T.K. briefed everyone on what had transpired. Although all of the group members agreed with Todd’s refusal of the Templars’ offer, there was some criticism. Mary, now eight months pregnant and looking very plump, said forthrightly, “You should have found more in common and established a better rapport before you talked turkey.”
Mike agreed with Mary’s assessment. He commented, “If Terry Layton were here, she’d probably say that it was a case of two warriors having a discussion that should have been handled by people with a different personality type. Someone more diplomatic.”