Chapter 3

The pain in my balls had finally gone away as I was doing a final walk through of the pawn shop. I didn't want to have to come back and expose ourselves unnecessarily.

I glanced at a small clothes stand while sweeping through and it caught my eye. Normally you don't see clothes at a pawn shop but these were biker leathers. A thought twitched through my head for their use. I grabbed them all and threw them into a box along with all the helmets and carried the load to my truck.

Lou gave me an odd look after glancing in the box.

"Bite-proof body armor," I said matter-of-factly.

"Hell yes," he replied. "I have a bunch of leather hides at the house. I'll get Jess's leather working tools and sewing machine while I'm at it."

Lou walked away and I couldn't help myself...

"Hey Blackwater, don't forget..."

He turned back to face me just as I zinged the tennis ball at his cluster.

"Payback is a bitch."

I'm still number one in his book.

As we drove back through town, I could see that the National Guard had been activated. We passed two trucks and a Humvee filled with troopers that were headed towards the edge of town. I quickly noted that the gun mount on the Humvee was currently empty. I assumed that they were going to set up checkpoints and/or barricades.

The town seemed deserted; we would pass a car here and there and they'd be loaded down. It was anyone's guess if they were coming or going. I had expected more people to be out and about, or at least a steady stream of refugees from Wichita. Most people must have been keeping their heads down in the hope that this would all blow over or that the government would protect them from it.

We skirted around town on the truck route in order to avoid people and traffic. We had to turn onto the only major access road into town from the south and saw more guardsmen manning a checkpoint where a train trestle went over the highway.

The front of my building faced the same state highway and the checkpoint would be just short of a mile away. I didn't expect much trouble from that direction unless there was an influx of rural refugees. A good sniper with a .50 cal could even support them from our rooftop OP.

I pulled up to the back of my building to find an older 'Deuce and a Half' with an enclosed trailer blocking the way. Three smiling faces that I recognized but hadn't seen in a few years were looking back at me.

I let out a whoop as I saw Miles "Snipes" Trent and his wife Victoria, along with "Sarge" Bill Poole, exit the big truck. In my excitement at seeing them, I damn near garroted myself with the unfastened seat belt. Finally wrestling myself clear, I trotted over gave the group hugs and handshakes.

The rest of the group had gathered around by then and made introductions.

Snipes I introduced as the best shot I had ever served with and then turned around and introduced Vic as his teacher. I also joked that since both Snipes and Vic were from the Appalachians Mountains area that I swore Vic's daddy was an extra in Deliverance. I always wear a special t-shirt around her that has a picture of a man paddling a canoe that says "Paddle faster I hear banjos."

Next to be introduced was Sarge. He was my mentor and friend in the Special Forces. Never was there a man that I both hated and respected at the same time. He was what was called a Special Forces Weapons Sergeant. I was his replacement so he could become an instructor for other Weapons Sergeants. We were trained to do it all and he was the one that taught me.

The Deuce and a half was Sarge's personal vehicle. He had lovingly restored it during his off hours. It looked just as it had when it was new back in 1969, or so he says. Hell, he was only in grade school at the time. Bill was a forty-nine year old warrior and could still kick mine and Lou's asses at the same time.

I bet all the rest of the group thought that the truck and trailer were full of weapons and such. True, there were a lot of weapons but they were mainly the personal weapons of the trio. I wasn't lying when I had said that Victoria was a good shot. I have never beaten her at long range shooting. I and my ego have never given up though.

The back of the truck, considering it had just the canvas type covering, had boxes of MRE, bottled water, boots and BDU's in it. Now the trailer had all the fun stuff ... but not a lot. A few grenades, claymores, flares, various other odds and ends to make a big bang with, and ammunition. Tactical, observation and communication gear were the most notable contents.

We unloaded the new arrivals' equipment and found them a place to crash. With the four new arrivals, Snipes, Vic, Sarge and Helen, all the bedrooms were gone. Snipes and Victoria were going to have to sleep down on the hide-a-bed in the man cave and the Sarge would be down in the hidey hole. Helen would have the last bedroom. The hidey hole had more than enough room for me to wall off a couple bedrooms for Sarge and the Trents.

Helen's suburban didn't make the trip to the pawn shop; now I could see why. She had a trailer with a big meat smoker hitched to the back. The really nice part about it was the rick of split hickory on the trailer along with it. Since the yard was empty at the moment, the smoker was backed in first. We unhitched, leveled and braced it for ease of use. We backed in my big enclosed trailer next as were going to use it for overflow and non-essential items. The Deuce would be last and would still allow room to move around easily. I had made up my mind to take Lizzie's Tahoe and Bill's trailer out to the bunker and park them inside the Quonset hut there. That would make the Topkick, Helen's off-road 1983 suburban and my '68 Chevy 4x4 the only vehicles left in the garage. I didn't want the parking lot full of cars; that would tend to draw attention us.