Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (61 page)

Shelly was apparently big on titles and status, which also annoyed Pete. Titles didn’t mean anything when it came to survival. He saw her nod once to Charlie and then continue, “Charlie saw the defense department decal on your truck, and the MP sticker on your back window. He said you were a sergeant, and that you would know security . . . that you could help us. You are a military police sergeant, are you not, Pete?” she said, as she stared stone-faced at him.

Pete wondered how they came to assume he was a sergeant, and then remembered he was still wearing his patrol-cap with rank. He suppressed an impulse to remove his cap, and forked another bite of food into his mouth. He didn’t know how the meeting would turn out,
but he was determined to feed himself before it fell apart. To her credit, Shelly waited patiently for Pete to swallow, so he chewed his food more slowly while he carefully considered his next words.

“It’s sergeant major, not sergeant. That’s a big difference in rank. But Charlie’s right. I do know physical security, and I can help, but I’ve only got a couple of hours. We’re very eager to be on our way. It’s been a very rough road to this point. I’m tired, and not in a good mood,” answered Pete, matter-of-factly.

Shelly smiled and looked at her two male advisors. “You see, gentlemen, sometimes all you have to do is ask nicely. I’m sorry, Pete, this is Bill Pullman,” she said, and turning to her other side, “and this is Frank Steiner. Bill is my vice principal, or at least he
was
my vice principal . . . until the disaster happened. And Frank, well, he was the director of operations at the BEP, but he’s also currently unemployed, and he offered his administrative services to our little community here,” she ended her introduction with a smile, and a tilt of her head. She resumed her seat and asked, “So then, where do we start?”

“Do you have a map . . . something that shows your entire area of . . . the entire area you want to secure?” asked Pete. He reminded himself that he wasn’t about to plan a military defense, but some habits were hard to break. He barely avoided calling the neighborhood their ‘area of operation.’ After more than twenty years of service, it was hard to quit using military speak. He knew most civilians didn’t understand it anyway.

“We have a large survey map for the development,” said Charlie. “It’s not a satellite overhead, but it should work for what we need.”

“What scale?” asked Pete.

“I believe it’s a little better than one over twenty-five, or something like that.”

“Let’s see it,” replied Pete, as he hurried to finish his meal.

Charlie left to fetch the map, and Shelly took the opportunity to engage in some small talk. “Can you tell us a little about your drive up here?” she asked.

Pete nodded and said, “Well, the traffic is bad. The ash is killing the cars and they’re stacking up on the shoulder. And there’s lots of walkers . . . displaced persons, moving along the freeway and the frontage roads. Most of them are moving south. We saw a few accidents . . . one that involved a fuel tanker. It didn’t seem anyone was interested in responding to the fire, so it was burning freely. Then we had a significant delay near Burleson. Some highwaymen were shaking people down on the freeway. We avoided that area, which took some time,” said Pete. He was proud of Bonnie for not revealing his deception. He just didn’t want to get into details with this audience.

He continued, “Traffic through Fort Worth was lighter than I thought it would have been. We made good time, but we saw looting and other possible gang-related, or perhaps it was just mob-related activities. We left the freeway just after crossing the Trinity River on I-35W, and we ended up near the big post office building, the one on the corner of Blue Mound. We were driving north on Blue Mound, trying to reach I-35 again, when we hit your roadblock,” finished Pete.

Shelly silently studied Pete for a minute, but he didn’t care. He was confident she didn’t want all the details; that she didn’t want the truth about how dangerous it was on the road. If she asked a detailed question then he would give her a detailed answer, but not a moment sooner. He also didn’t trust Shelly, something about her unsettled Pete. He returned her stare and smiled. A moment later, Charlie entered the room carrying a large, four-foot by four-foot map mounted on poster-board. It was a faded copy of the developer’s neighborhood schematic, and more than enough for Pete to work with. He was pleased to see the schematic included elevation lines, and that there were two creeks, on the east and west side of the development which offered a formidable anti-vehicle obstacle.

Pete looked up, mentally oriented the schematic to north, and pointed to a large field on the northwest corner of the map. “Is this where the BEP sits?”

Charlie nodded and said, “Yes. The neighborhood backs up to its southeast corner.”

“OK, now remember that I am going strictly off the map here. Walking the terrain would likely produce a different recommendation, but I’ll get you close to where you need to be,” said Pete, as he studied the map for a moment. When nobody asked a question he continued, “Does anyone have a pencil or highlighter I can use?”

Once again, it was Charlie who rose and went to a cabinet. He returned with a plastic container filled with pens, pencils and highlighters. He set the container next to Pete and hovered over the map next to him. “Thanks, Charlie,” said Pete, as he grabbed a pencil from the box. “How much of the neighborhood are you interested in protecting?”

“Why all of it, of course!” replied Shelly, as if Pete recommended that she cut off her little finger.

“That’s fine with me, but the bigger the perimeter the more demanding it will be on your available resources. It’s very easy to reach a point of diminishing returns when it comes to perimeter defense, but then again, a static defense is always at risk of being overrun, even one that’s well established. What’s your man-power?” asked Pete.

“We have forty-nine men and twenty-eight women volunteers. They’re armed . . . with an assortment of firearms,” replied Frank, before Charlie could speak.

“So you have about seventy-five people to defend your perimeter, and patrol the area around your defenses. That means if you’re running three, eight-hour shifts, you have twenty-five people per shift. How many people are running your roadblocks?” asked Pete.

“Four per,” said Charlie.

“OK, and you have two checkpoints?” asked Pete.

With a highlighter in hand, Charlie marked the two checkpoints on the map, “Yes. Here’s where we met you, and the other one is here, at the east end of Harmon,” concluded Charlie.

“Eight from twenty-five is seventeen, and seventeen divided by four is what . . . four point two-five? So that leaves you with at least four, four-man security teams. You can work with that if you designate one of your off teams of twenty-five as a QRF,” said Pete.

“QRF?” asked Charlie.

“A Quick Reaction Force,” said Frank, beating Pete to the punch.

“Right, a QRF can respond to any crisis in force, but you’ll have to keep them together, perhaps even here in this school house. Would you call this building your center of gravity?” asked Pete.

Pete saw nothing but blank stares. “The center of gravity is what you need to remain viable. It’s your balance, or equilibrium. In battle, it’s the one thing you absolutely must defend. Like this building for instance. If it’s your command post, and you store all your food here, then it would be your center of gravity and worth defending at all costs,” said Pete. He let that notion sink in before he asked, “So then, what would you consider your center of gravity?”

Frank and Shelly leaned together and engaged in a very close and private session of whispers. Pete was surprised they didn’t immediately identify the school building as their center of gravity, and he wondered what they considered a more worthwhile asset. The school was centrally located, it had plenty of room, and offered the neighborhood a community kitchen, among other things. Pete watched as Shelly turned to Bill and whispered something in his ear. After a moment of rude, silent discussion, she turned to Pete and said, “Our center of gravity is not in this neighborhood,” replied Shelly.

Pete waited for her to elaborate, and when she didn’t he asked, “So then . . . what is your center of gravity?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” replied Shelly, blandly.

“Oh, for crying-out-loud,” moaned Charlie, “it’s the U.S. Foods Distribution Center just down the road from us.”

“Charlie!” gasped Shelly, “You have no business sharing that information with anyone, let alone a stranger.”

“What do you think he’s going to do with that information, Shelly, storm the building and take everything? There’s enough food in there to feed everyone in this neighborhood for a year, or more.”

“You will NOT address me by my first name, Charles Nagel,” said Shelly, as she stood quickly, pointing a finger at Charlie from across the table. Pete and Bonnie watched the scene unfold before them as if it was a staged performance. Neither of them wanted to interrupt the drama for fear it would prematurely end and deny them some much needed classic entertainment.

“Will you two please calm down,” said Bill. “Charlie’s right, Shelly, Pete doesn’t want our food. And we asked him to help us . . . not the other way around. He needs to know what we think is important to protect, and the food DC is our center of gravity.”

“Fine!” said Shelly, as she plopped down into her seat. “Fine . . . whatever! But once word gets out that we’re holding the DC, it will only be a matter of time before everyone in Fort Worth comes looking for a handout.”

“Isn’t that why we’re looking for help with security?” asked Charlie, as he looked at Bill for more support. “Isn’t that why we asked Pete to help us?” Charlie shook his head and looked down at the table.

“Bill’s right,” said Pete. “I don’t care that you have a warehouse full of food, but it does explain a lot.” He looked at Shelly and said, “Your secret’s safe with me,” and he mimed zipping his lips.

“What do you mean, explains a lot?” asked Shelly, obviously irritated with everyone but herself.

“Well, like how you can manage to feed so many people so well, this far into the disaster,” replied Pete.

“I bet a lot of people are still eating well,” said Shelly, “We’re only a few days into the disaster. There’s still plenty of food out there.”

Pete stared at Shelly. He refrained from shaking his head in amazement over her complete ignorance, and said, “Perhaps, but not everyone has access to food any more. The grocery stores were completely emptied when the eruption was announced. Those who didn’t get a
chance to grab food had to live off what they had at home, and that’s about a week’s supply. I know. I was one of those people. And you should know that since you’re feeding the entire neighborhood. Oh, and by the way, do you have any idea how many displaced people are heading south . . . heading this way?”

Shelly’s expression remained blank and hostile, so Pete continued his lecture. “People are heading south, along the freeway, by the thousands, and they’ve only got what they’re carrying in their arms. Food and water is an issue. Speaking of water, how are you guys getting yours?” asked Pete.

“We have access to the water at the BEP, which is supplied by a well,” said Bill. “But I think water is still flowing here. Am I right, Charlie?”

“Yes, sir. The water is still flowing, but we don’t know how long it will last. We’re having everyone store all they can. We don’t have a consolidated water storage capability,” replied Charlie. He then pointed to the map and said, “The two creeks that run here, and here, are intermittent, but we’re already exploring rain collection as an alternative option . . . if it ever rains again.”

Pete was impressed that they had given educated thought to their survival, but they were very vulnerable to raiding parties of any size. “What’s the condition of the BEP in regards to security and sustainability?” asked Pete.

Bill ran his hands over the top of his smooth head and leaned back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. Pete was about to change the subject, thinking Bill couldn’t or didn’t want to answer, when he sat forward and reengaged Pete, “It’s secure, but it’s not designed to accommodate a large group of people. I mean, a large group of people work there, and quite a few of them actually live in this neighborhood, but it’s not designed to support people living there,” said Bill.

“But you said it would be a good place to go if we were ever threatened by . . . you know, bad people,” said Shelly. Pete stifled a laugh and glanced sidelong at Bonnie. He saw that she wanted no part in this
conversation, so Pete returned his focus on the distinguished neighborhood panel. He saw that Shelly was staring at Bill, open-mouthed, and with narrowly squinted eyes.

“Look,” said Pete, “you guys clearly have some things to work out among you. That’s why you have to determine your true center of gravity. I don’t care if your COG is the food DC, the BEP, or this school house. It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. I’ll be gone soon, but I encourage you not to forget about your people. You can’t do anything without your people,” finished Pete.

They turned and stared at him, so he continued, “Is it your plan to assume an ‘every man for himself,’ survival, or are you planning to cooperate? Because if it’s cooperate, then people, your people, should be your center of gravity. You’ll need them to survive, and if you don’t protect them they’ll leave you, they’ll die, or they’ll takeover and elect better leaders. Then it won’t matter how good of a leader you think you are, or how much food and water you think you control. If you don’t organize your defenses immediately, you won’t be able to protect anything, and if you . . .”

“We get it, Pete. Thank you,” said Shelly, interrupting him with another classic smile and head tilt. It was patronizing, and it angered Pete, but he let it go. He would be long gone when this little community of theirs imploded, or was overrun by a well-organized gang. He would do everything in his power to enable them, but he could tell these people were at odds with each other, and that there was some kind of power struggle going on. It was a recipe for disaster. In Pete’s opinion, the only decent and respectable team player in the room was Charlie, and it seemed like he didn’t have any say in how things played out, other than the checkpoints and roving guards.