299 Days: The Community (19 page)

“Oh, hell yeah we’ll do it well,” Grant said, returning to the present moment. Grant looked around to see if Mark or any of the other locals were around. They weren’t. Grant said, “Let’s go show these duck hunters how we do it.” That fired everyone up. Which is exactly what Grant intended.

As they were walking to Mark’s truck, Wes said, “We need to live here, too. I’d much rather get along with everyone.” Wes had been looking for a place to fit in. That place hadn’t been his dad’s house. It hadn’t been all the different high schools. It hadn’t been his job with all those near strangers. It was the Team, and now it was Pierce Point.

Chip said with a smile, “Hey, I’m Uncle Chip out here. They love me. I can fit in with duck hunters just fine.”

Pow, who was a leader of this group, too, realized that he needed to have a role in this. He pointed to everyone and said, “We’re cool with the duck hunters, right?”

Everyone nodded.

“OK, let’s go. Show time,” Pow said with a giant grin.

They piled in Mark’s truck. Manda and Cole waved. Lisa had gone inside. She didn’t like to see Grant with all those guns. It reminded her that he had killed some people and he would be in danger. But she couldn’t stop him. She would if she could figure out a way, but she knew the “gun things” needed to be done. At least for a little while until everything got back to normal.

They went past the guard shack. Paul and Mary Anne were there, rifles in hand. They waved, and Mary Anne snapped a picture.

As they went down the road, Grant felt so alive. There was something exhilarating about riding in the back of a truck with extremely well-armed friends. It never got old. He had done it with the Team when they would drive down range to set up the steel targets that were too heavy to carry. He loved the truck rides with the guys. When Grant would see pictures on TV of military contractors riding together in pickups in Iraq or Afghanistan, or even the Somali men in their trucks, he understood the bond they had. He understood it. And he loved it.

A little way past Over Road, they saw their first residents. They were an older man and woman out walking, holding hands. Their jaws dropped when they saw the truckload of well-armed men. Each of the Team said, “Morning sir” or “Morning ma’am” and tipped their hats, which were the tan baseball caps with a Velcro patch on the front with an American flag. Any resident seeing this would be relieved to have these guys in their neighborhood.

Once they passed the couple, Grant said to them, “That’s exactly how to do it, gentlemen. Those people will go back and tell their neighbors that there is a team of nice SWAT guys here to help. Exactly what we need. Thanks.”

Grant hoped he wasn’t obsessing over this political stuff, but first impressions were everything. And they were dead if the Pierce Point people turned on them. The Team and Grant’s family would need support from the Pierce Point people. There was no way they’d make it through this without help from the community.

Grant decided to have some fun with this, and make a point at the same time. “You know, guys, the more buzz there is about the nice men in the truck, the more the chicks here will want to meet you.” Smiles all around. Chicks had been motivating young men for several thousand years. “Even for you, Chip,” Grant said. Everyone laughed, especially Chip.

As they went past the houses on the road to the Grange, Mark drove slowly. He figured the residents should get a good look at them. Mark loved being a part of this, even if he was only the driver. The guys waved and smiled at everyone. They tipped their hats and said, “Good morning.” They felt like heroes. All this training and expense was paying off. This is what they were supposed to be doing in a disaster like this. It’s what sheepdogs lived for.

They pulled into the Grange. There were several trucks there. The Team jumped out of the bed of the truck while keeping control of the ARs on their slings. They had done this plenty of times before. They’d never shot at anyone or been shot at, but they had the rest of this down. The locals looked at them in shock. Who were these guys? Were they here to help?

Mark was the guide. He was the connection with the locals. He looked for Rich. Rich was in the Grange with a clipboard. Ryan, the Marine, and Dan, the Air Force dog handler, were standing there talking to him.

“Hey, Rich, my guys are here,” Mark said. He loved calling the Team “my guys.”

Rich smiled as the Team walked in. They looked like the Sheriff’s SWAT team Rich had been on briefly, except that they didn’t have matching clothes. They also looked like they would follow orders. Perfect. Rich already knew that these guys would have door-busting duties, with some guidance and additional training from him.

“Great,” Rich said. “Thanks for coming by this morning.” He knew these guys, especially the young ones, were itching to come by and show their stuff so “thanks for coming by” was a little joke. “I’d like each one of you to tell me about yourself.”

Grant needed to start things off. This was a signal to Rich that Grant was the overall leader.

Grant said, “Sure. But first, I want to make an important point.” Grant looked Rich right in the eye and said, “None of us are prior military or law enforcement. We taught ourselves some things. We got to use the law enforcement range in Olympia. We had some military and other people train us informally. I think we’re really good, but we’ve been practicing on steel targets that don’t shoot back. I know it’s unusual for civilians like us to train themselves, but we did. We’re at the service of the community.”

Rich nodded slowly. So did Ryan and Dan. They were encouraged by the apparent luck of this, but they wanted to see if these guys were for real or just mall ninjas.

Grant pointed to Wes, who was next to Rich, and said, “Introduce yourselves.”

Each guy gave his name, where he used to live, what he used to do, and how long they had trained with the Team. The last guy to introduce himself was Pow.

“Pow,” he said. “That’s what everyone calls me.” He paused, not sure if he wanted to say the next thing. “I used to sell insurance.” Rich, Ryan, and Dan laughed. Pow laughed, too. It was totally at odds with the gun fighter standing before them.

“Hey,” Pow said, “there’s lots of crazy shit going on now. An ex-insurance salesman turned gunfighter is just one of them.”

Grant pointed to his AR. “We have standardized equipment, pretty much. All of us run ARs and most of us have AKs and tactical shotguns if we need them. Pow has a sweet bolt gun.” Grant was referring to Pow’s sniper rifle in .308. Pow could hit six-inch targets at 600 yards with that thing.

“We all run Glocks,” Grant continued. “I am the freak of the group in .40; everyone else is in 9mm. We have at least 10 magazines for every weapon. We have enough ammunition out here for…a while.” Grant didn’t want to describe all the valuables they had for someone to steal. But if he couldn’t trust Rich and the others, who could he trust? Chip looked at Grant. Of course the basement full of ARs and ammo would not be mentioned.

Rich smiled. “You guys know that, as of yesterday, all these guns are illegal.” The guys shrugged. “Yep,” Rich said. “Governor signed an executive order. For real.”

Rich smiled, “But I’m happy as hell that you have them and I’m no longer a police officer, so I don’t give a shit about any of that. Especially unconstitutional executive orders. Let what’s left of the police come and try to get them.”

Ryan whispered something to Rich. “Can we do a little marksmanship test with you guys?” Rich asked.

“Sure,” Pow said. Rich motioned for them to follow him. They went out the back door of the Grange. There were no houses around the Grange and there was a hay bale with a paper plate set up about twenty-five yards away.

“The residents know we’ll be shooting?” Grant asked. “I don’t want them to think there’s trouble and come streaming out to shoot us.”

Dang. This guy thinks of everything, Dan thought. “No problem,” Dan said. “We told them to expect some training fire. But that’s a good thought.”

“OK, how about five from each of you,” Rich said.

Bobby was closest to Rich, so he would go first. He yelled, out of habit, “The range is hot!” meaning they would be shooting live rounds. He effortlessly swung his AR up, clicked off the safety, and put five rapid-fire rounds right into the center of the paper plate. After firing he did a “search and assess,” where he kept looking through his sight and scanning the area around the target for additional threats, just like they had trained. After a few scans, he lowered his rifle and clicked the safety back on. Smooth as silk.

Each of the guys did the same until that paper plate was shot out in the middle. There were three holes a couple inches from the edge of the plate. Almost all holes were in the very middle.

Rich, Ryan, and Dan were impressed. Not in awe; they could shoot the same, but impressed that insurance salesmen, hospital techs, equipment rental guys, and especially a lawyer could do this kind of shooting.

Dan got another paper plate and, after making sure no one was still about to shoot, called out “range is cold” and went to the hay bale to change plates. As he was doing that, Ryan said, “It’s pistol time.”
They moved up to about ten yards in front of the hay bale and did the same thing. Every shot hit the paper plate. They shot their pistols with their ARs on their slings. They looked effortless when shooting and moving. It was obvious they had done this hundreds of times.

Dan said, “Show me dry how you transition from primary to secondary.” “Dry” meant no round in the chamber. This would be a test to see how they transitioned from the primary weapon, the AR, to the second, the pistol, in the event the AR ran out of ammo or jammed. Each of the guys made sure their weapons were pointed in a safe direction, removed the magazines, ejected the live round, and reinserted the magazines. They did a press check to ensure that there was no round in the chamber and put the safeties on the ARs (the Glocks didn’t have a manual safety). This test was as much about safe weapons handling as it was about marksmanship.

Each guy did a perfect or near perfect transition, letting the AR fall to his side while suspended on the sling and then drawing his pistol. It was obvious that they knew what they were doing.

Ryan dragged his heel in the gravel to make a line. “This is a door. Show me an entry.” Marines did a lot of urban training and clearing a room was a basic component of that.

Wes and Bobby were standing closest to Ryan, so they teamed up. They demonstrated a two-man stack and how to clear a room. When they wanted to come out of the room, they yelled, “Exiting!” Grant yelled back “Exit!” This was the command to prevent guys exiting the room from walking out of a room only to be shot by another team member. Their technique wasn’t perfect, but it was impressive.

“Where did you guys learn this?” Rich asked. He couldn’t believe they didn’t have any training on this.

Grant said, “We hung out at Chip’s gun store with a Special Forces guy named Ted. He came out to the range and taught us all kinds of shit.” Grant couldn’t help grinning. He was proud.

Rich, Ryan, and Dan were silent. They felt very lucky that these guys just happened to be living in the neighborhood. Rich wanted to see if he could get even luckier.

“So where is Ted?” Rich asked.

Grant was about to answer. Chip shot him a weird look. Grant paused.

Chip said, “He’s in Texas. That’s where he said he’d be going.” This was news to Grant and the Team. Chip had never mentioned this. Grant could tell this was something Chip didn’t want to discuss.

Dan asked, “Have you guys ever been shot at?”

They all shook their heads. Grant raised his hand. Oh crap. That was stupid—telling people about the shooting—but he’d already raised his hand. Might was well follow through.

“I had to defend myself and a neighbor a few days ago back in Olympia,” Grant said. “A group of about a dozen armed young punks were charging my friend, Ron, who was guarding the entrance to the neighborhood. I drove my car at them, got out, used the car for cover, and…I used my pistol. Three confirmed dead, not sure how many wounded. I didn’t enjoy it. Ron was pretty happy about it, though,” Grant tried to smile but he couldn’t. This wasn’t a joking matter.

Grant collected his thoughts. “I credit my training with these guys for getting me out of the situation. I knew exactly what I needed to do. I wasn’t afraid of gunshots because I’m around them every other Sunday afternoon with these guys. I was shooting at steel targets that night. They just happened to be people.”

Rich and Ryan had shot people. They knew what it was like. Even the most justified shooting wasn’t pleasant.

“Sorry, man, I’ve been there,” Rich said.

“Me, too,” said Ryan.

“Well, it’s over,” Grant said. “I don’t want to do that again, but I sure as hell will if more bad guys charge me and my guys. They had guns and clubs.” Grant shrugged as if to say, “What else can you do?”

Dan came over to whisper to Rich and Ryan. They nodded.

Rich said, “We think we have a role for you guys. I’ll want to see more of you and, quite honestly, get to know you. So you’re officially probationary. But I’m thinking of using you guys for SWAT, if necessary. Entries, that kind of thing. Would that be OK with you guys?”

“OK? Hell yeah!” Pow said, a little too excited. The other guys were elated. Mark was beaming at “his guys.”

Chip wasn’t smiling. “Thanks, Rich, that’s very kind of you, but I’m too damned old for this. I’m…well, I’m in my sixties. I’m in decent shape for an old man,” he said with a smile, “but my door-bustin’ days are over. I can patrol and train others, but I don’t want to slow these guys down.” No one disagreed. They all thought Chip was great, but if a guy thinks he’ll slow the team down, that needs to be taken seriously.

Grant, who was in his forties, wasn’t so sure about busting down doors, either. He’d have to think about it. But, man, he really wanted to do it. If there were bad guys threatening his people and he had a chance to stop it, he would. It was fighting bullies, something he’d been doing all his life. Plus, there was a little pride, perhaps even a little midlife crisis. He wanted to show everyone that a forty-something lawyer could take down bad guys like a twenty-something could. That kind of thinking would probably get him killed, but he was thinking it.