299 Days: The Community

Chapter 89 Meet the Team (May 8)

When Rich asked if anyone else had unique skills, the Team looked at Grant. Grant whispered to Mark, “Introduce me and I’ll take it from there.” Mark nodded.

Mark stood up. “My neighbor here, Grant, has some guys to introduce. These guys are solid, I can tell you from personal experience.” That was a big boost from a local.

All eyes were on Grant. He stood up and said, “I’m Grant…” Should he give out his last name? What if someone looked him up on the POI list? Well, it would get out some time and there weren’t exactly any cops around with time on their hands to take him in. He paused and thought.

Grant decided right then and there that he would die with his boots on. If they wanted to come get him, he’d fight it out, so he might as well give out his last name now. He was betting his life on the fact that there wasn’t any more law enforcement left.

“Grant Matson. I have a cabin out here but, as Mark Colson will tell you, I’m not exactly a city boy.” Mark gave the crowd a thumbs up. “I live next to Mark on the far north end. I brought some good friends out here with me. Actually, they rescued my family from Olympia and convoyed them out here, running into a sticky situation on the way out.” That was a bit of an exaggeration, but these people needed to know that the Team weren’t just Billy Bobs in a pickup truck. They weren’t military or law enforcement, either. Somewhere in between.

Grant pointed to the Team. He introduced them and noted that another one, Bobby, was out in the truck guarding some valuables. John went out and got Bobby, who came in for his introduction and then left.

Grant almost forgot Chip, who was kind of on the Team. Grant pointed to Chip and said, “We shoot a lot with Chip, too. He is very good.” Chip put his hand up in an “aw shucks” gesture.

The next part was hard. How could he describe the Team so that people knew they could do things without being nervous about them? Grant didn’t want to seem like he was searching for the perfect words, which indicated he was holding something back or trying to spin something. So he just said what he meant.

“We are…well, we train together a lot,” Grant said. “On the range. We have been lucky enough to get the law enforcement shooting range in Olympia on Sundays and we’ve made good use of it. The SWAT guys have taught us a lot. Bill here, or ‘Pow’ as everyone calls him, is a handgun instructor.” True, but he didn’t get paid for it. Grant was exaggerating a little to establish their credibility; it was a little risky, but he thought he had to do it.

“We’ve been training together for two years,” Grant said. “We’re not formally trained law enforcement, but we’re pretty darned close. We don’t claim any super specialized skills, but…well, we’re pretty good. We will do whatever we can to help the effort here.”

The crowd was looking over Grant and these young guys he brought with him. They all seemed clean cut and well spoken. They had given their seats to ladies. They called people “sir” and “ma’am.” They had guns and holsters that indicated that they were serious about this stuff. They didn’t have a “strut,” but they were confident. Grant sensed that the Team was initially making a good first impression with the crowd.

Rich, always the curious cop, asked, “What do you do for a living?”

Grant answered, “I am…well, I guess I was, a lawyer.” A few people looked like they hated him already. “Not a scumbag lawyer, like most of them are,” Grant quickly added. That got a couple of laughs. “Out here, with what’s going on, I’m not a lawyer. I don’t even like lawyers. My job now is protecting my family and feeding them, and helping my neighbors as best I can. I plan on spending a lot of time hunting and fishing and helping with things like guard duty and anything else that is asked of me.”

In that moment, Rich realized who their judge would be, but he didn’t want to hand out that job until he got to know Grant. It was an important job; a bad judge would be horrible. Rich would keep his eye on Grant and these guys of his for a while.

Rich said, “Welcome to you and your guys. I’d like to see what kind of skills you have and then we’ll see where we can put you.” Fair enough, Grant thought. He nodded at Rich.

“Well, now you know the basic plan,” Rich said to the audience. “We also know some of the skills people have out here. You can go now if you want; I don’t want to keep you. I will be taking names for guard duty, beach patrol, and the internal patrol. When I know how many people we have for each, and the skills we have, then we can start doing more detailed planning and figure out what training we need and who will do it. This was just a meeting for the basic plan and introductions. The detailed planning will go on tomorrow and then we’ll meet back here at the same time, 7:00. I’ll take all the planning volunteers I can get. Come up and see me. Any other questions?”

There weren’t any.

“Good night and stay safe,” Rich said.

People started milling out. There was a big line to talk to Rich. Rich saw Grant and said, “Can you and your guys stay for a while? I’d like to meet them.”

“Sure,” Grant said. This was a good sign.

“And I’d like Mark and John to stay with you guys, too,” Rich said.

John said, “Which is good because we all rode together.”

Mark and John were chatting with their neighbors, most of whom they didn’t know very well. Mark spent some time talking with Ryan McDonald, the Afghanistan Marine. Ryan was in his late twenties. He was a substitute teacher now, but had rarely had any work for the past few years. He cut firewood and did odd jobs. He lived by himself in a mobile home in Pierce Point; a mobile home that was immaculate. Ryan looked like an ordinary guy; he didn’t have a crew cut or “USMC” tattooed on his arm. Grant overheard Ryan say to Mark, “Bronze star, sir.” He must have been in a fight or two and done nicely, Grant thought.

Grant was sure to say hi to as many people as he could and introduce the Team. They were saying “sir” and “ma’am” to everyone and making a great first impression. This was key. Grant didn’t want his guys to be stuck doing menial things they were overqualified for. That would lead them to maybe want to go back to the city, as crazy as that would be. These guys wanted to use their skills. Grant needed his guys to be very happy where they were. He needed the Team to be the Pierce Point SWAT team, or at least to be on the SWAT team. They would share the cool roles with qualified people, like the Afghanistan Marine. But just about anyone could man the gate. Guys who had shot for a long time together, in semi-SWAT-like training situations, should be the ones knocking down doors.

Knocking down doors? Grant realized that the Team had never actually done things like that. They’d cleared imaginary rooms where Ted drew the boundaries of the room in the dirt, but they’d never actually done it in a real house, or actually been shot at.

Oh well. No one else had (except Ryan McDonald and maybe Rich Gentry). The Team, while inexperienced in some areas, was more experienced than almost everyone else, overall. This was a time to make do with what they had. Pierce Point had Rich Gentry, Dan Morgan, Ryan McDonald. And the Team. Not bad.

After a while, Rich came up to Grant. “I’d like to meet your guys. Now, tell me how did you all meet?”

Grant told Rich about Capitol City Guns and how they started shooting at the law enforcement range and the things they practiced.

“What are their backgrounds?” Rich asked. Grant explained that all of them were civilians with no formal training. This was interesting to Rich. He had never run across civilians who just trained like this on their own. He had heard of militia wannabe guys who did this, but he could tell Grant’s guys weren’t like that. They didn’t wear military clothes and seemed eager to help instead of fantasizing about killing people like they were in a video game. Rich kept wondering what the catch was.

“Can you guys come by the gate tomorrow?” Rich asked. “Maybe show us a bit of what you know. Bring your full gear.”

“Sure,” Grant said. He looked Rich straight in the eye. It was time to set himself exactly where he wanted to be in the Pierce Point pecking order. He said to Rich, “You have things pretty organized out here. My guys want to be part of your system. Not some rogue group. We are an asset out here. We want to have a good role because we’ll do a good job. We’ve worked very hard and have some impressive gear that will help the effort. It would be a waste to put us on the gate, in my opinion, although we will honor your decision.” Grant owed it to his guys to try to get them the best jobs possible, but he also wanted Rich to know that the Team was not some rival, renegade group.

This was politics; not the political party kind of politics that had driven the country into the crapper, but the kind that was about getting along with everyone in tough situations, while not selling out. Grant was good at it. He had to be. It was how people would survive.

Rich smiled. He appreciated Grant’s acknowledgement of his authority, and he appreciated that Grant was trying to get his guys the best spots possible. Grant was a leader; a leader of a small unit that wanted to fit into a larger one. He was the perfect kind of leader to have within an organization. Rich also had a sense of how valuable the Team would be to Pierce Point’s security. He said, “I think I have an idea for your guys, but I’d like to see their stuff tomorrow. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough,” Grant said. He could tell this was going to work.