Authors: Kevin L Murdock
I didn’t mind the idea of a census, but I didn’t like where this was going. That should have been easy, but Samantha was setting something else up. She was trying to make herself look good. Her corporate BS mantra was seeping out of her every pore. Don’t just recommend something for the good of the community or company, make yourself look good when you do it. I wondered to myself what she wanted or if she had a secret agenda.
Again, Samantha clicked forward to the center of the stage space and spoke. “All in favor, say aye.”
“Aye,” came back fast.
“Okay, Jean Pierre. Write it down. Next issue, everyone, is about water. All our water flow is gone. Some of us filled our bathtubs and are okay for a few days, but everyone has a different situation.”
She owned the crowd now. Each person was nodding and eating her words like they were chocolate. “Since water is out, we have to come up with a place for sewage. Who votes in favor of digging a temporary sewage pit one hundred feet away from the garbage pit until we arrive with a permanent solution?” Greeks have a deep-rooted cultural duty to serve their communities, a duty that has been carried on for thousands of years. Peter Doukas had suffered and served several over his lifetime and would now be rewarded by smelling garbage and human waste near his house.
“Aye,” said everyone, before they even had a chance to think about it. Her words were heroin, and the entire neighborhood had become junkies. The next fix was all that mattered, and pleasure was felt from what was received. I wished Adam Greenleaf was here now. Damn his coward ass for deserting us. It then occurred to me, was he either a genius for getting off a sinking ship or did he jump into icy waters from a ship that won’t go down? Maybe that’s how they felt on the Titanic when it was going down. Two choices, neither gave much hope. It was too much to contemplate, and my mind again returned to the meeting.
“What about security?” I offered to the group. Census and poop spots I could care less about. “Last night, we almost shot a neighborhood kid because we heard noises.” I took a moment to violate Zeke with my eyes, and he accordingly looked downward at his shoes. “We had a lady die on Plantation Road, and we have to think about defense.” My heroin, it seemed, was of the same quality as Samantha’s.
“We need a general!” said someone with an accent that could only be from Latin America.
As everyone nodded in agreement, Samantha lived her motto, “carpe diem.” “I don’t know who has a gun, and we can find out in the census, but security is important.” She was now standing with her right foot firmly planted on the ground and her left foot resting the spike of her heel across the toes of her other shoe.
Tom had taken the last sip of the beverage in his red cup only moments before “Who here has fought a battle or in war?” Drunkenness in this setting may make one bold, but it’s like playing chess and not thinking ahead more than one move. Your opponent will outsmart you, and you’ll be left wondering how or why.
Samantha didn’t miss her chance. “Good question,” she stated. “Be honest and raise your hand if you have faced battle.”
Two hands went up. Nana and Slav. Nana spoke first. “I saw much that was terrible in my childhood. I hope never take up arms again except in defense. Those who have seen battle never wish to face it again. People did some horrible things to others and children. I took a vow to aid people and not to fight. I may bear arms if called upon, but I can’t lead people into a hostile setting.”
It was suddenly still and quiet except for the sound of rain steadily beating on the roof and draining off the eaves. All eyes then turned and focused on the only other man who knew battle. Slav.
His hand lowered slowly, and he took the cigarette from his ear and placed it in his mouth, even though he had no intention of lighting it. His beady eyes quickly covered the scene, and his mouth continued to move over and around the cigarette as though he was trying to smoke it and nothing was coming.
“I faced battle back in Europe. I killed a lot of people, but that was behind me when I came here.”
A silent reassurance met him from the crowd. It wouldn’t be much different if a five-star general burst through the door and told us he had a plan. We knew nothing about Slav except he had spilled blood, and everyone was immediately ready to follow his lead. He again looked around and gave himself a brief nod to reassure himself that he was doing the right thing. I vaguely recalled mafia gangsters giving the same look on TV as they accepted a new mission from the Godfather.
“Our neighborhood is defensible. We can at least keep people out and maybe raid or forage other communities around us.”
“Other communities,” someone said, louder than he had intended.
“What’s he mean raid?” asked a woman to her husband near the front of the crowd. Again, people had adjusted to speaking with a raised voice with all the rain and didn’t realize at this moment that their voices were carrying to multiple unintended sets of ears.
Slav again spoke to ease their fears. His voice was sharp and direct, as Eastern Europeans are so often perceived by Americans. “Everyone. Everyone. We don’t know what will happen. We must be ready for anything. Raiding will be a last resort. I want us to add guns to the census to know who is armed and who isn’t. I also need to speak to several people immediately after this is over.” He started pointing and saying “you” to each person. As he finished, he placed the cigarette back on his ear. He’d pointed to ten people, including me. I figured because he knew now that I was armed, I was a shoe-in for whatever security duties were forthcoming.
Great, another responsibility,
I thought.
Samantha paced forward to reassert herself again. Jean Pierre and another lady had just lighted a few candles, so there was a creepy glow that now illuminated the pool hall. For the first time, I could see Samantha clearly today and noticed she had taken time to do her nails and apply a heavy coat of make-up. If anything else, she had tried to prepare for this meeting in advance.
“Thank you, Mr. Brataslav.” Samantha gave him a long look in the eyes and a warm handshake. Her lips revealed the slightest hint of a smile. It all seemed a bit contrived to me, but nobody questioned anything. “Are we all in agreement that this is our security leader?” she rhetorically questioned the crowd.
“Aye,” came the expected response. Odd, I thought, but every time we unanimously answer our responses get more in sync.
“Very well then. Jean-Pierre, please write it down.”
“Oui, Madam,” came the obligatory reply without him looking up.
“Let’s tackle water next. Tom Jones!” she thundered out. “Where are you, my friend?”
An empty red cup was raised up high to answer her.
“Tom,” she said in a tone that sounded similar to how Tabitha would be saying something to Paul before picking on him. “We have all this rain outside, and it’s bound to rain again. Can you come up with some landscaping that will help direct all this water into the pool or buckets so that we can collect water?” She asked it in a way that suggested she expected another affirmative reply.
“Uhhh . . . I can’t run down to the hardware store and pick me up a dozen illegals,” shouted Tom.
At least he was an honest drunk
, I thought, as I chuckled with those around me. “You’re talking about a big project, and that pool might be saturated in chlorine. Could be toxic to drink.”
“I’m sure your vodka or whiskey would sanitize it,” she replied coldly. For the first time since we started, the crowd felt a jolt of uncertainty, and Samantha sensed her no-hitter was slipping away. As all corporate managers do when they don’t have an answer to a good question from a subordinate, just throw it back at them and see what come outs. “Well then, Mr. Tom. What would you suggest?”
“Keuka Creek isn’t too far. We can get a couple of guys with large buckets and go down with shopping carts to push them. A couple of trips a day should get us plenty of water to drink. We’ll just need to boil it first. I think I saw that guy that wrestles snakes in the Amazon on TV . . .” He was starting on a long tangent and Samantha was prompt to cut him off.
“Good idea!” she publicly acknowledged. “You can be in charge of the water and bring us two loads a day. All say Aye!”
“Aye!” came the now almost automated response.
Tom’s face was red, and he realized he’d walked into a trap. Sometimes saying “I don’t know” really is the best response. “I need a beer,” he said matter-of-factly to the stranger standing next to him.
Back in control, Samantha moved on to the final issue. “Now on to food. We should state the obvious. Food is limited, and our favorite chocolates are now an endangered species. This is both a short-term and a long-term issue. Today we will address the short term, and we can brainstorm and regroup at the next meeting with some ideas for the long run. Who here is out of food already?”
One hand went up from a twenty-something lady who was new to the community. I had seen her once before on move-in day, but her car was always gone, and it didn’t surprise me that she would be the first one in need of community support. Young people go to the store almost daily, and she probably ate at restaurants for most of her meals. “Talk to me after today’s meeting. I will personally provide you with some food. I hope you like eating healthy.” The way she said healthy made it obvious she was reaching into her unchartered waters of comedy.
“Okay, thank you!” the young lady replied. Nobody was laughing, but Samantha’s heart felt that her personal gesture made an impact and bestowed some prestige and credibility on herself.
“I’m going to form a special executive council to tackle the food issue. For now, we will roll this into the census. It is imperative to know who has how much food and also to grab what is left in vacant houses before any thieves take it. We will put it all together in a safe place and stockpile for those in need. All say aye!”
“Aye!” came the rubber stamp.
“As part of the executive council, and I think it should be the census council too, I nominate myself, Jean Pierre . . .” Her arm reached out and touched his shoulder. “I also nominate Brataslav and Miller Bradford. All say aye?”
Again, like a knee getting popped in the doctor’s office, the reflexive crowd responded, “Aye!” There was even a surge of optimism that could be felt.
This was a most interesting turn of events. So much was happening so fast. I couldn’t grasp it all. She and Jean Pierre, I kind of suspected, might scoot into some important roles. They had always served on the HOA and had egos that could rival dictators of small countries. Slav had surprised me tonight by suddenly going from a person that you would politely pull your kids away from because he oozed creepiness to a general in charge of our welfare. Lastly, Miller Bradford was what I considered a grade A thug. He had spent years in jail and was covered from head to toe in tattoos. His parents had lived in the community for much of their life and were good people, but they were snowbirds and spent half of the year in Florida. He was here now, without their guiding hand, and that was a golden brick road that always leads to the land of penal colonies for someone like him.
A large smile now decorated Samantha’s face. Somehow I had called this meeting and ended up watching it like a fly on the wall. “If there is no more pressing business today, I motion we all go home. We will come back here in three days for updates on all of our issues and census results.” Her gaze then found me, and it was subtle, but her eyebrows moved a few millimeters together. “If anyone else has any urgent business, you all know where I live. The executive council can resolve any disputes or issues going forward. Please go home now and remember we will be coming by every home over the next couple of days.” As she finished, her voice took on an air of chirpiness. “Now stay dry, everyone. We can’t afford to get a cold. If there is a doctor on call, we can’t call him!”
As the mass of people began exiting and then immediately running at high speed to get home quickly before being drenched in the rain, I walked over to the corner where Slav was going to debrief us about security.
At least I had some role,
I now thought gratefully. Unsure of where it all was heading, I went over with a smile and greeted everyone.
Everyone had a role to play in life; maybe this would be my defining one
, I said optimistically to myself as our small meeting began.
Chapter 8
Recon Patrol
A couple of days had passed, yet the nightmares were intensifying. Always they were of the kids and consistently built in intensity until I wake in a cold sweat. My father told me stories of soldiers in Vietnam, and he saw several of his friends buckle from the stress and have degenerative dreams. I’m not a burned-out soldier who can collect money the rest of my life and piss it away on alcohol and blame everyone but myself for my problems. My family depends on me. It’s this singular determination that drives me forward and restores equilibrium to my mind after the dreams descend nightly. If Mother Nature is about balance, then my responsibility counters fear and holds the scales of my emotions in balance. If only balance were harmonious. It is unfortunately evened out by extremes to passions both blissful and terrible.