White Wasteland by Jeff Kirkham (best color ebook reader .txt) 📕

holes in the enemy. They left nation building and regional pacification to the cake eaters.

Fretting over the destiny of a region felt like a softening, and Jeff hated that. Soft was the last thing he wanted right now. They were at war and the work of war was done by hard men—men who focused on the work, not the dreaming.

Jeff banged his whiskey tumbler down on Ross’ desk. “So that we’re clear, this is how it’s going to be. I’m going to see if I can cut a deal with the local Mormon gentry and get their guns pointed in the same direction as ours. I’ve already begun discussions. The new Mormon prophet is on his coming up here this afternoon and I’m going to help him. You copy?”

Jason leaned forward at a loss for words, looking more like a petulant fifteen year old than the leader he once was.

What the hell had happened to this guy? He used to be a titan, Jeff wondered.

Ross shook his head and shrugged. “This is on you. This is all on you. I can’t save this place with you fighting me every inch of the way. Go ahead, champ. Get us all killed.”

Jeff wiped his mouth, stood up and headed out of the Homestead office. Jason followed him.

“So you spoke to the new Mormon president?” Jason struggled to catch up. The two men power-walked toward the ham shack, Jeff eager to reach Zach, the ham operator.

“I did. He gave us two of his MRAPs. They’re augmenting Lower and Upper Barricades. You can thank me later for doing your job.”

“What did you commit us to?” Jason’s voice went up an octave.

“I gave you more than enough time to handle the MRAP conflict through diplomatic channels and you cocked it up. So I handled it myself.”

“I got hung up with a tax collector from Mill County,” Jason tried to explain.

“Tax collector?” Jeff stopped half-way up the hill. “What’re you talking about?”

“The county government is trying to scam us for food. I told them they can shove it.”

“Really. And that worked?” Jeff resumed trudging up the hill and Jason followed.

“Well, he threatened to send the sheriff’s department with an armored vehicle to collect.”

Jeff stopped again. “That’s not good. Where did you meet him?”

“At the Upper Barricade.”

“How long ago?”

“Two hours.”

Jeff considered the time of the day. It was going to be dark in about five hours. On second thought, it didn’t matter. If government people were involved in a shakedown, they wouldn’t be working nine to five. They’d be fighting for survival. They could come at the Homestead at any time, day or night.

“QRF One,” Jeff spoke into his radio.

“Tim here.”

“I need your team to mount a six man rotating defense at the Upper Barricade. We’re anticipating a possible incursion from local forces and they may have an MRAP.”

“Another MRAP?”

“Yes. Double check the counter measures at the barricade and bring Winslow with the Barrett fifty into position to support the barricade.”

“Roger. That’ll take about an hour.”

“Okay. Hustle it up.” Jeff dropped his push-to-talk back onto his vest.

“So…” Jeff turned to Jason. “Tell me again why I’m cleaning up another one of your messes.”

“Look, I didn’t have a choice,” Jason argued. “It was a scam and we shouldn’t have to horse-trade with these guys. If I gave any answer other than no, we’d be saying that we intend to play their game. ‘Go to hell’ was our best opening gambit.”

“Those county guys’ families are probably starving. They’re not screwing around,” Jeff pointed out what should’ve been obvious. “They aren’t government functionaries anymore. They’re desperate fathers and husbands.”

“Okay, so how should I have handled it?”

Jeff disliked the weakness in this conversation. Jason Ross wasn’t the same man Jeff met five months ago. Standing before him was a man second-guessing himself, arguing on the defensive and blaming his failures on external circumstances.

“I can think of ten ways of handling it that are better than waiting for an unknown opponent to show up at an unknown location with an unknown force. This is a worst-case scenario.” Jeff looked at his watch. “I need to get Zach working on the Mormon prophet’s radio call. You should come back around four p.m. if you want to talk to President Thayer yourself. It looks like we might have another armed force coming into the valley from the south.”

“Another army?” Jason suddenly looked frightened. The last army had almost wiped them off the map. Jeff and Jason had both been seriously wounded in battle.

“Possibly. The Mormons might have a civil war on their hands. Some church leader in Utah County decided that he was the new prophet, and he’s raising an army to attack Salt Lake City. That’s all we know. We’re going to try to get the southern church on the radio and get the two prophets talking.”

Jason grabbed Jeff’s elbow. Jeff stopped and turned.

Jason cocked his head and raised his voice. “A second prophet is planning to attack Mormons in Salt Lake City? Why the hell is the Homestead involved? Why are they using my ham radio? You didn’t answer my earlier question: what did you commit us to?”

Jeff wasn’t going to dissemble. Not to this man.

“I offered to train their forces.”

“Holy shit,” Jason turned away and looked off into the trees. “And you did that without consulting me or the committee? So, General Patton, what do you have in mind for us next? I’d like to know, given that all of our families are being dragged into your scheme. The Homestead is a survival community. That’s what I set up and that’s what we all signed up for: survival. You’re pulling us into the Mormon church’s internal bullshit and I’m not okay with it. I left that church behind a long time ago, and for good reason. I don’t think many of the families here will support a war when it’s not even our fight in the first place. What makes you think you can command my guns and my people?”

As Ross