Hard Rain Falling (Walking in the Rain Book 3) by William Allen Page A

substituting the title ‘safety patrol’. He laughed but went along with the change. He could read the coming conflicts as well or better than I could.
    I had thought I was good in the woods until I started hanging with Scott. As a game warden, he liked to sneak up on the poachers and avoid getting shot for his trouble. He was scary good, and I tried to steal as many of his skills and moves as I could assimilate into my own bag of tricks.
    With the plans Amy and I hammered out the night before, I made a few radio calls on the base system using my pass and pleading with the operator on duty. It worked and after a few minutes chatting on the two meter band, I had the information and permission I needed. Honestly, the thanks and praise I heaped on the young comms tech on duty had been earned. Without the radio, I would have needed to make a trip in person; not a recommended option with the main gates all essentially under siege. The starving crowds wanted whatever they could get their hands on, and only the threat of death kept them outside the fence. At some point that threat of death would no longer serve as a deterrent.
    I felt for them. I know most of us did. I felt guilty even eating the meager meals being supplied by the mess halls. When we discussed this feeling the other night amongst ourselves, Amy tried to ease our suffering. She confided the food stocks on hand in the camp might feed the city’s inhabitants for a few days at most. We were on 1800 calorie diets as is, which is not quite starvation but was right on the edge. Especially when trying to perform physical activities. I just drank more water and tried to push on through to my next step.
    That next step involved returning to the block of offices housing the base commander. I simply approached Colonel Hotchkins’ office and got his secretary’s attention with a wave. Surprisingly, the colonel called me in, saying he could spare a few minutes.
    As I started my spiel, Colonel Hotchkins saw through my intentions immediately and regarded me with a stern cast to his features.
    “So you want to trade me a clapped-out farm truck for one of my Humvees, Luke? A truck, I might add, that you don’t even have in your possession or control? Well, I guess you could have a future as a used car salesman. Or a camel trader.”
    I had the decency to blush, but pushed on anyway.
    “Well, Colonel, you have plenty of marked and flagged vehicles, but surely at some point you could use a, let’s say, deniable vehicle. Once you clean the blood and brains out of the cab, of course.”
    Hotchkins finally broke down and laughed; his voice sounded rusty, but none of us had a lot to laugh about lately.
    “I can’t trade you, Luke, because the Humvee doesn’t belong to me, but I can loan you the vehicle. An extended loan until you are back this way.”
    I gave the colonel a surprised look. He was being much more flexible than I expected. He nodded and responded seriously.
    “Luke, I’m an officer and have sworn an oath I have to uphold… but I’m also a father. If I can help you get home and it doesn’t conflict with my duties, I’m glad to do so. Have you tried to contact your family over the HAM Net?”
    “No, Sir. I don’t know anybody in the area who is a HAM, and I’d rather not put anybody in danger trying to deliver word.”
    I hated lying to the colonel. He was a good man, maybe a great one, but it all went back to my first duty. That was to my family. Don’t draw any attention and keep your head down. Stay gray.  Don’t let on that you have communications gear. Or guns. Or food. Help out where you could, but don’t become a target. These were the lessons I learned early from my father and grandfather.
    Some might think of them… us as hard hearted or uncharitable. Hoarders, I think was a term I’d seen as well. My family believed in preparing for disaster and being self-reliant. My parents worked like dogs to provide us with everything we had and to set