during the night. More importantly, he didn’t know where Sally would be after dark, and he found that disturbed him a great deal. He hoped she would be on one of the Teeny Town barns, a long way from the fight. Of course, the fight could reach the town easily enough, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that.
Terry killed the engine and waited for Seth to exit before he locked the passenger side door and dropped to the ground. He used the key on his door. No one would steal Big Bertha, he hoped. Men were milling around with their motley collection of guns, knives, and few other odd excuses for weapons. Terry’s favorite was the man who had carried a scythe all the way from Manchester.
“Seth, how about you see about the food distribution, and I’ll work on the weapons.”
“Sounds good.” Seth opened the back doors of the truck and called for a few helpers. He directed them to carry the food bags over to the lean-to shelter on the west side of the barn. Soon after, he had convinced the men to line up so that he could hand out the packaged meals wrapped in rough paper.
Terry knew that most of the men would be eating a better meal out here on an abandoned farm than they usually did in their own homes. He hoped it would help him keep control over the group. The line was still flowing as the last two groups trickled into the barnyard. Terry kept a count, and realized that he had over four hundred men under his command. Then he laughed to himself. He had no idea how to command anyone.
Terry closed the truck and took a walk into the barn. He was curious to see the place where Bill’s family had weathered that first hard winter. He saw the tobacco drying beams and the watch posts. He looked into the pits Bill and Kirk had dug. The dirt was still hard packed at the bottom, but it looked like no footsteps had touched that floor in many years. Terry stuck his head into the tack room where a few empty boxes were still stacked in front of the door. It was a powerful reminder of what the Carter’s had survived, and how everyone to this day lived so close to the edge of chaos and death.
When he walked outside, Terry snagged the closest man and told him to pass the word that anyone without a working gun should come to the truck. Terry circled around to the back. Seth was working on his eighth bag of food, but the end of the chow line was in sight. There would be enough for another meal. Terry opened the truck and climbed over the remaining food to reach the weapons stacked in the front. A new line was formed, led by scythe guy. Terry was glad the man knew it was a bad idea to fight a battle with a farm implement. He asked questions of each of the men and tried to give each man a suitable weapon. He couldn’t avoid the fact that most of these weapons were supplied with only a few rounds of ammo. He made sure to remind the men of that fact as he handed out the guns. He came up far short. At least thirty of his army would join the fight with only a knife or a machete. It took some fast talking to shuffle some of the better bladed weapons to the men without guns. In the end, he managed the feat by reminding those who did not want to loan their blades that the end of the battle would most likely yield a new batch of weapons. Plunder has always been a strong motivator.
After the field dinner was eaten, Terry rounded everyone into a group and gave the world’s shortest speech. “Thank you men for coming. Your help will turn the tide on the Dragon army. Our mission is to stay out of sight until the right moment. Odds are, we will miss most of the fight, but I don’t think we mind too much. When we do come out of hiding, I have two rules. First rule, nobody shoots until I say ‘shoot’. Second rule, no matter what we are doing, cover first, shoot second. Understand?”
Terry watched for the ripple of assent from his men. “Until then, get as many as we can into the barn. Leave the watch platforms up top free. Anyone who
Terry killed the engine and waited for Seth to exit before he locked the passenger side door and dropped to the ground. He used the key on his door. No one would steal Big Bertha, he hoped. Men were milling around with their motley collection of guns, knives, and few other odd excuses for weapons. Terry’s favorite was the man who had carried a scythe all the way from Manchester.
“Seth, how about you see about the food distribution, and I’ll work on the weapons.”
“Sounds good.” Seth opened the back doors of the truck and called for a few helpers. He directed them to carry the food bags over to the lean-to shelter on the west side of the barn. Soon after, he had convinced the men to line up so that he could hand out the packaged meals wrapped in rough paper.
Terry knew that most of the men would be eating a better meal out here on an abandoned farm than they usually did in their own homes. He hoped it would help him keep control over the group. The line was still flowing as the last two groups trickled into the barnyard. Terry kept a count, and realized that he had over four hundred men under his command. Then he laughed to himself. He had no idea how to command anyone.
Terry closed the truck and took a walk into the barn. He was curious to see the place where Bill’s family had weathered that first hard winter. He saw the tobacco drying beams and the watch posts. He looked into the pits Bill and Kirk had dug. The dirt was still hard packed at the bottom, but it looked like no footsteps had touched that floor in many years. Terry stuck his head into the tack room where a few empty boxes were still stacked in front of the door. It was a powerful reminder of what the Carter’s had survived, and how everyone to this day lived so close to the edge of chaos and death.
When he walked outside, Terry snagged the closest man and told him to pass the word that anyone without a working gun should come to the truck. Terry circled around to the back. Seth was working on his eighth bag of food, but the end of the chow line was in sight. There would be enough for another meal. Terry opened the truck and climbed over the remaining food to reach the weapons stacked in the front. A new line was formed, led by scythe guy. Terry was glad the man knew it was a bad idea to fight a battle with a farm implement. He asked questions of each of the men and tried to give each man a suitable weapon. He couldn’t avoid the fact that most of these weapons were supplied with only a few rounds of ammo. He made sure to remind the men of that fact as he handed out the guns. He came up far short. At least thirty of his army would join the fight with only a knife or a machete. It took some fast talking to shuffle some of the better bladed weapons to the men without guns. In the end, he managed the feat by reminding those who did not want to loan their blades that the end of the battle would most likely yield a new batch of weapons. Plunder has always been a strong motivator.
After the field dinner was eaten, Terry rounded everyone into a group and gave the world’s shortest speech. “Thank you men for coming. Your help will turn the tide on the Dragon army. Our mission is to stay out of sight until the right moment. Odds are, we will miss most of the fight, but I don’t think we mind too much. When we do come out of hiding, I have two rules. First rule, nobody shoots until I say ‘shoot’. Second rule, no matter what we are doing, cover first, shoot second. Understand?”
Terry watched for the ripple of assent from his men. “Until then, get as many as we can into the barn. Leave the watch platforms up top free. Anyone who
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