his town. He immediately decided he wasn’t going to wait to hear about it on the news and started gathering a few things to go get his mother and Lea and her family. With everything happening in the bigger city areas there would be no way they’d cover anything happening in Oakhurst.
Will went to the coat closet and grabbed the 12-gauge that sat on the top shelf along with a box of shells. He then went to the closet in his room and pulled a plastic tote that he used to organize and store all of his camping gear. On top was a gun case that held his Glock .45 caliber pistol. He grabbed it and an open box of bullets and then returned to the living room. He had kept his pistol magazine only loaded with about 6 or 7 bullets to not keep the spring compacted too much so he filled it the rest of the way. He took the guns to his Jeep and laid the shotgun against the front passenger seat with the barrel face down against the floor. He placed the pistol in the center console so both guns would be in easy reach if needed. Will looked around the property. An orange glow was beginning to lighten around him. He got in the Jeep and backed up from the side of the house and the continued reversing until he was in front of the door to the house.
Will stepped back inside the house and looked around to see if there was anything else he could think he might need if things took a turn for the worse in their little town. He knew he already had a first aid kit in the Jeep so he didn’t get the one that was in the house. He filled two bottles of water in the kitchen and then figured he’d be fine with what he had. He hoped it wouldn’t take too long to get to his mother and to Lea’s house. As Will was rushing back out of the house he paused at the closet where he had retrieved the shotgun. He looked up at the .270 hunting rifle and decided to take it as well. He grabbed a box of bullets for it and a baseball bat that leaned against the back corner of the closet. He imagined the craziness he saw on the news and considered how mobs of people could get desperate and irrational when they wanted what you have. He wanted all the protection he could get if that is what he would encounter. The rifle and bat went on the floor of the back seat of the Jeep.
Chapter Nine
“Mr. Braden? Are you okay?” Thomas Allen questioned.
“I...I’m sorry,” Marcus stammered. “I’m exhausted already for the day and my mind is elsewhere and you surprised me. I didn’t even see you there when I walked up to my desk.”
“I know,” Thomas said with a chuckle. “Your face was buried in those papers.” Thomas paused for a moment and looked down at the papers on Marcus’s desk before beginning again. “Well, like I said I’m Thomas Allen. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of me or my work. I’m President of the American Rights Foundation. We call it the ARF.”
Marcus cut him off, “Oh yes. I knew I recognized you. I’ve read some of your books and I read your online editorial from time to time.”
“Good to hear,” Thomas answered. “Before I get too much into what I want to talk to you about I would like to know what you think of my work. I think I already know the answer based on what I’ve seen you say on your segment. Are you generally in agreement with my writing?”
“Yes, of course. That’s a good assessment of my work,” Marcus said.
“Excellent. Is there a more private place to talk? I had hoped when I found your desk it would be inside of an office.” Thomas glanced around at the open room. No desk in the area had any privacy.
“It’s just the way all news offices seemed to be designed. There’s a conference room out the back entrance,” Marcus motioned to a door, “just down the hall.”
*****
“Listen, Marcus, I hate to be so direct, especially since we just met, but I’m just going to put all the cards on the table for you. My organization has been anticipating what’s happening right now for years
Will went to the coat closet and grabbed the 12-gauge that sat on the top shelf along with a box of shells. He then went to the closet in his room and pulled a plastic tote that he used to organize and store all of his camping gear. On top was a gun case that held his Glock .45 caliber pistol. He grabbed it and an open box of bullets and then returned to the living room. He had kept his pistol magazine only loaded with about 6 or 7 bullets to not keep the spring compacted too much so he filled it the rest of the way. He took the guns to his Jeep and laid the shotgun against the front passenger seat with the barrel face down against the floor. He placed the pistol in the center console so both guns would be in easy reach if needed. Will looked around the property. An orange glow was beginning to lighten around him. He got in the Jeep and backed up from the side of the house and the continued reversing until he was in front of the door to the house.
Will stepped back inside the house and looked around to see if there was anything else he could think he might need if things took a turn for the worse in their little town. He knew he already had a first aid kit in the Jeep so he didn’t get the one that was in the house. He filled two bottles of water in the kitchen and then figured he’d be fine with what he had. He hoped it wouldn’t take too long to get to his mother and to Lea’s house. As Will was rushing back out of the house he paused at the closet where he had retrieved the shotgun. He looked up at the .270 hunting rifle and decided to take it as well. He grabbed a box of bullets for it and a baseball bat that leaned against the back corner of the closet. He imagined the craziness he saw on the news and considered how mobs of people could get desperate and irrational when they wanted what you have. He wanted all the protection he could get if that is what he would encounter. The rifle and bat went on the floor of the back seat of the Jeep.
Chapter Nine
“Mr. Braden? Are you okay?” Thomas Allen questioned.
“I...I’m sorry,” Marcus stammered. “I’m exhausted already for the day and my mind is elsewhere and you surprised me. I didn’t even see you there when I walked up to my desk.”
“I know,” Thomas said with a chuckle. “Your face was buried in those papers.” Thomas paused for a moment and looked down at the papers on Marcus’s desk before beginning again. “Well, like I said I’m Thomas Allen. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of me or my work. I’m President of the American Rights Foundation. We call it the ARF.”
Marcus cut him off, “Oh yes. I knew I recognized you. I’ve read some of your books and I read your online editorial from time to time.”
“Good to hear,” Thomas answered. “Before I get too much into what I want to talk to you about I would like to know what you think of my work. I think I already know the answer based on what I’ve seen you say on your segment. Are you generally in agreement with my writing?”
“Yes, of course. That’s a good assessment of my work,” Marcus said.
“Excellent. Is there a more private place to talk? I had hoped when I found your desk it would be inside of an office.” Thomas glanced around at the open room. No desk in the area had any privacy.
“It’s just the way all news offices seemed to be designed. There’s a conference room out the back entrance,” Marcus motioned to a door, “just down the hall.”
*****
“Listen, Marcus, I hate to be so direct, especially since we just met, but I’m just going to put all the cards on the table for you. My organization has been anticipating what’s happening right now for years
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