10 Pound Bag Ch. 141-145

**** Chapter 141 -- Hell Broke Loose ****

By: Emmeran, 12 May 2021

Contributing Muse: Tarasandia, 12 May 2021

Editor: nnpdad 19 May 2021

Published: 23 May 2021

I had a good home but I left

I had a good home but I left, right, left

That big fucking bomb made me deaf, deaf

Hell broke luce

Hell broke luce

-Tom Waits

The extreme calm should have been a warning. Both Aunty and I should have sniffed it out. We should have felt it, smelt it, heard it.

We didn't at all, and then we did.

In later conversation, we were both astounded that it caught us by surprise, but it did, and hell descended from above.

The twister dropped directly onto the front gate and all of the windows in Marine House exploded at the same time, flying glass and other debris would account for most of our injuries that day.

The front gate and gatehouse simply disappeared. 200-pound stones were later found embedded in many buildings. They killed two of our party.

Then the twister 'bounced,' or maybe it 'hopped'? I raced outside, into the madness, and looked up to watch it pass directly over us. I was struggling to stay upright in the wind. I watched as it took two more smaller hops in a field and then got down to business, fully disassembling the farmstead a quarter-mile away.

I raced for the stable, yelling for men the entire way. I could hear crying and screaming behind me as I saddled up quickly. Men were there and I ordered them to bring the mule team and tools. I yelled, "Get a buckboard, too."

Then I raced off down the road with Brin and Amos close behind me. All I had was what was preloaded on my travel saddle: a hand axe, a rope, and a little water. A family of nine lived down there, with several farm hands. When we arrived, the place was simply flat. The only recognizable feature from the house was a lonely wingback chair standing in what must have been the parlor. The attic and roof were later found in a nearby field with two safe, but trapped, children in it. Tornadoes were funny that way.

I hit the ground at a sprint before I realized that something else was wrong. Amos tried to run past me with Madeleine close behind, when I grabbed his arm stopping him. I sniffed the air and then looked up

"Holy Shit!" was all I said, as I sprinted for my horse. I had barely dug into my blanket roll when the lightning struck all around. A moment later, while I frantically dug for my rain slicker, someone turned a fire hose on us. The impact of all that water was staggering and almost brought Amos to his knees. Visibility was ten feet at best.

I struggled a hat onto my head and pulled my slicker on. Amos and Madeleine were soaked and trying to shield their faces, so they could see and breathe. I sent them back to Marine House for rain gear. Then I looked for Brin; he was taking refuge under my horse. I led them both under the nearest standing tree and turned my attention back to the remnants of the house.

The clock was ticking and all this water wasn't a good sign for anybody trapped. The driveway was already a river. Any crops in the field were doomed. Welcome to the heartland of America!

A rope, an axe, and a collapsed house presumably full of people. Boy, this was not the day I had planned. Was I ever glad for that damned corporal, riding me for years to pre-pack my gear. I picked my way into the mess. It was hard to see in the cloudburst, not to mention that I could crash through to the cellar at any point.

There was a part of a room I could reach. It seemed to be the master bedroom and, though the ceiling had fallen in, there was one section that wasn't flat. It turned out to be the Missus's hand-made anniversary present, of all things. It was a crudely made four-poster bed; this guy definitely wasn't a craftsman with wood. But his roughly made present had saved four lives. He, his wife, and two young children, who had joined them for morning snuggles, all found safety in that crudely made bed.

Everyone was actually unhurt except for dad. He had taken a severe shot to the head and also had a few broken bones. The rain had started to slacken. It lightened to a heavy downpour and men started to show up. We toted the farmer carefully, out to the wagon, gave him a tarp for rain protection, and went looking for the rest of his kids.

One of the little ones told me that Peggy had been really bad and hurt someone, so she got the switch last night and was made to sleep in the hayloft. Truth be told, there was nothing particularly awful about that, if we could find Peggy. We found two of her siblings in the stairwell. They had run for safety, but didn't make it and died together on the stair.

The woodshed was untouched and I found the switch hanging on the wall, but no Peggy. The barn was flat, though, and I found Peggy just in time to watch her bleed out with a crushed leg. Truth be told, she wasn't surviving the other damage to her body, anyway.

I went back to the woodshed and got that switch. I destroyed it and hid the pieces in my saddle bag. They didn't need to see that thing ever again. They had just lost three children to the sudden storm and everything they owned was destroyed.

The sudden surprise that their two oldest boys had survived in the flying attic was the only highlight of their early day. We sent the survivors back to Marine House, then started to load up the fatalities and round up any surviving animals. We took everything back to Marine House and began to lick our own wounds.

I think the trip was automatically postponed at that point.

The rain decided to stop and the sun came out.

**** Chapter 142 -- Damn the Torpedoes ****

By: Emmeran, 12 May 2021

Contributing Muse: Tarasandia, 12 May 2021

Editor: nnpdad 19 May 2021

Published: 22 May 2021

I was basically useless and I think that was a good thing. I needed out of St. Louis anyway. Rulo was plenty for me, thank you just the same. I never heard the story about the two we lost and why they were where they were, when the storm took them. The families simply wanted them buried properly and to leave it all behind. I decided that if that's what the families desired, than that was what we would do.

Repairing tents became a favorite boredom hobby of the travelling women. In the end, I think they found it a blessing, if you would believe that. Purpose was always the best prevention where henpecking was the issue. You would no sooner be able to stop henpecking than you would be able stop men from strutting around like crowing rooters. I'd observed it with amusement, even at the highest levels of academia and commerce; people were still people.

Jeb's builder showed up and immediately began assessing the damage. He seemed to be an astute businessman and forward-thinking fellow, so I pitched him on the Marine House. I gave him the full court press of modern ideas, including construction signage and inclusion on our advertisements. We'd call them 'public notifications' or some such. I also pitched the idea of our security service to him, offering a reciprocal deal with naming rights included. That was the tipping point. Last boom, he'd had his sites ripped off a number of times and he knew he did need security. We both agreed that another boom was coming.

Timmons readily agreed with me that we could engage idle boat crew in security. They just wanted to get paid and eagerly moonlighted during down times, anyway. This would give us a pool of boatmen to work with and keep them all happy. It was a win/win situation that should at least break even. Additional supervision would be needed. I knew about a US Army regiment standing down, so I didn't think that would be a problem. RT&T (Rulo Trade & Transport) would happily sign a deal with the Marine House regarding this matter. With that, and unbeknownst to me, I suddenly had the largest security firm west of the Mississippi. Inevitably, I would pick up another large chunk of discarded regimentals from the US Army. The downside was: this put Ft. Dickenson into my future again, sooner than I had hoped.

Well, hell, I'd loved to read stories about David Farragut in my youth, so it was easy for me to mentally put myself high up in the rigging, so I could see the entire strategic action and mentally proclaim: "Damn the torpedoes, four bells please, and full speed ahead."

Basically, I just had to mentally start moving the pieces strategically again. Security forces provided the Marine House with a service and source of income. I merely lacked a good commander. I would find a way to resolve that issue, even if it took a trip to New Orleans in the summer. It didn't hurt that militaries worldwide had a reliably bad habit of dismissing excellent leaders, based on political whim wherever they happened to be at the time. It was bizarre behavior, considered on the overall, but it seemed to be accepted tradition.

My job was to recognize the opportunities and capitalize on them. And so I would.

*** ***

As a group, we shook off the horrible storm and got down to the business of migrating. Aunty made this happen. She came to me that morning with blood still on her apron and told me that I was going to speak again. I needed to speak today.

Well, hell, Plagiarism R Us, I guess. And if many a politician stole a phrase, I guess I could as well. So, is this how a soul is corrupted?

Dinnertime would be here soon and I needed to contemplate my words. It was left up to my various captains to handle the travelling parties. I supposed that if Jeb were not a captain, that was how it was going be from here on out. I had Jeb, Sheriff, and Peter for the most part. OJT would be the order of the day. I dispatched Amos to round them up. With that out of the way, I went to find Lucinda and Grace. After that, I needed to become the shadowy figure again and I might just spend the rest of the day on horseback.

My 'captains' came together quickly enough. I decided it was just in time for an early lunch, so in consideration of the fact that breakfast had been a non-starter, we ate a robust lunch and got down to business. I honestly admitted that I would be occupied the rest of the day. I would be available, but I had to rely on them if we were to keep to schedule. Dinner for everyone would be on time and I would speak after everyone had eaten. I saw disapproval in Lucinda's eyes but she wasn't walking in my shoes.

We would leave on schedule since that is what the people wanted. They wanted to leave this place as quickly as possible and I doubted that any of them would ever return. St. Louis simply signified bitter defeat and debasement to most of them and I truly didn't blame them. I would be within summoning distance, if they needed me. That was it. I walked away and climbed on my horse and started circling the compound slowly, with Amos and Brin trailing along.

I thought about what to say, how to build the energy yet again, and how to dilute any fear-mongering and rumors of ill portends that might develop. What was the motivation and how would I keep them from giving in to the easy suspicions and fear? But these are bugaboos of those continuously accused with public lies and ignorance. And that told me the approach I had to take.

Montaigne apparently is one of the earliest attributions to, "The thing of which I have most fear is fear." Bacon wrote: 'Nothing is terrible except fear itself.' Thoreau used it: 'Nothing is so much to be feared as fear.' Well, now Narrater would use it. Who knew for sure? Maybe Eve used that line on Adam to get him to bite the apple. Nothing was ever new under the sun.

I had decided, I guess, 'damn the torpedoes' and all that. It was either challenge Fate or succumb to endless mediocrity, at best. This was where the bullet hit the bone.

**** Chapter 143 -- The Twilight Zone ****

By: Emmeran, 12 May 2021

Contributing Muse: Tarasandia, 12 May 2021

Editor: nnpdad 19 May 2021

Published:20 May 2021

Help I'm steppin' into the twilight zone
The place is a madhouse
Feels like being cloned

My beacon's been moved under moon and star
Where am I to go, now that I've gone too far?
Soon you will come to know
When the bullet hits the bone

-George Kooymans, Golden Earring

Dinnertime was upon us and it was time for me to rock and roll. I was trying to motivate myself, though I felt like I no longer understood myself. I knew what I wanted to say, I guess. At this point, it was all a matter of how I said it. I went inside for a bourbon and to see if I was even the least bit presentable in appearance.

When I looked in the mirror, a hard man looked back at me. I could see a lot of other things, but determination was the overriding image right now. I still had a little time while the folks ate, so I loitered with Aunty in the kitchen a while. She gave me coffee to go with my cigarette and I described to her what I wanted to say. The nice thing about Aunty is that every time I was around her, hopes and dreams became part of my mantra again.

Bourbon finished, coffee finished, and cigarette snubbed, it was time to go out and build confidence. Aunty's eyes shone with belief as she watched me rise and shrug myself back into standing condition. I wasn't surging with confidence, but I was only standing in front of a crowd of one. I would feel differently out there. I was fully kitted out for travel and also fully armed with both pistol and shotgun, even if the pistol was still concealed. I even had my travel bag slung over my shoulder. For all intents and purposes, I was ready to go.

I whistled up Brin and walked out to face the crowd on the back lawn, with Aunty in tow. The spot where the stone deck descended down to the lawn still served as our dais. I stopped there to view the people assembled. There were far more than I had imagined, and there I stood, alone in front of them. They looked to me with expectation in their eyes. So many eyes.

I held my bag and shotgun out and Amos took them from my hands. Tossing my hat to the side, I shook my hair out, looked up at the brilliant blue, clear sky, and then began.

"This very morning disaster came crashing down towards us!"

I let that hang for a moment, then cleared my voice and continued.

"But it wasn't to be.

"We were protected.

"That mindless force of destruction was made to pass over us and then allowed to vent its destructive energy on unfortunate others. We grieve for their losses."

Powerful words, said slowly and with sympathy.

"Sadly, we lost two of our own and we will bury them here today. Had they been where they should have been, this wouldn't have happened.

"We mourn their loss, regardless."

"This place has been a curse to us all!

"We need to leave and leave we shall, on tomorrow's morn.

"Staying can only bring more heartbreak and we cannot trust that disaster will skip us next time.

"Rulo awaits and with it awaits freedom, hope, and dreams." That brought the first of many cheers.

It was time to start building energy off the cheers and murmurs of agreement.

"I promise you that you will have what you hope and dream!

"Hard travel and hard work await, but the work will be the work you do for you and for your town!

"I promise you that elusive American dream of true freedom!

"Land for each person!

"Food to keep you fed!

"Safety and rule of Law for EVERYONE!!!"

I was winding up now, heading towards mob mentality. Weirdly, that was what I needed at the moment, Moses did not lead the Hebrews out of Egypt with loving Kum-ba-yas. More likely, it was mass motivation and, possibly, a firestorm of arrows that saved them.

"I know your anger!

"I know your dreams!

"I bring you the answer to both!

"We will work together and create a Bright New Future!

"We have that future within our reach and the only thing that can stop us is US!"

I was using heavy emphasis and varying projection now, all of this just flowing from me. I was in the zone. It was like the battle zone, I thought. I knew it wasn't the same type of thought line - it is hard to explain, but I was able to read their desire and respond. Scary, yet heady, stuff. Every cheer that went up energized me.

The crowd had grown and it seemed all the construction workers and clean-up volunteers from town had joined in. It was actually quite a large crowd.

"I am Zachariah Ebenezer Narrater and what I and my town offer you is hope and a chance.

"We will protect ourselves but we will also protect the Constitution of the United States!" Well, that fell kind of flat.

"We are Americans all!" Loud cheers for that, important to remember.

"We will all have the American dream!" They got very loud this time.

"Hard times are ahead but we are Americans!" Pause and allow the crowd to agree.

"We deserve Rulo and its rewards!" Said loud and positive.

"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself!!" Proclamation and crowd reaction.

"We refuse to be afraid!!"

Incredibly, they were silent for half a moment and then Brin, sitting next to me, barked a single bark and the crowd went wild.

I recognized the 'drop the mic' moment, so I stepped back and waited for the cheering to slow. I had to hold my hands up to get them back down to listening volume. Then I stepped back up again.

"The Captains are here to tell you what to do next. We shall conquer this challenge and we shall do it together!" With that, I turned away.

Just as if we needed to make things cooler, I held my hand out for my shotgun. Amos smoothly tossed it to me and I deftly caught it. It looked practiced. The only thing that would look cooler would be for him to fling my discarded hat to me.

He did and it was just as smooth.

**** Chapter 144 -- Back in the Saddle ****

By: Emmeran, 14 May 2021

Editor: nnpdad 19 May 2021

Published: 21 May 2021

It felt good to be on the road again. Honestly, the saddle was starting to feel vastly more welcoming than the comforts and technology my vehicles had offered. We were still in what I would call the 'St. Louis rural area.' That area was far outside the sights and sounds of St. Louis itself. Next stop, St. Charles, for one last meet-up with the boats. Then we would be on our separate paths.

I rode with Brin and Sheriff up front, on point. Young Amos, of course, was back on drag, being one of our best riders and a young man in search of action. Even if that action were simply lazy cattle that weren't in the mood to keep up with the rest of the herd. Amos had a particular job. Any animal that demonstrated a consistent desire to separate would be separated into pieces, for eating on the trip. Now, it wasn't easy work, but we had plenty of salt, brought along specifically for the purpose.

I wasn't looking forward to that particular work. But we needed the food and didn't need the problem cattle. There were always a few and they simply weren't worth the hassle or the risk they would create. We had plenty of horses on string and they were carrying light loads of about 50 pounds of salt each. We really need salt back home and moving it this way was as good as any other. So the plan was that any problem cattle would be throat cut, strung up, skinned, then the important bits - meat and usable offal - would be chopped into chunks and buried in salt.

The salt wouldn't care. There isn't much you can do to salt, short of complex chemicals and plastics. It is simply a compound of two poisons, after all. When combined, they become one of the most integral parts of life. Nebraska, however, is not really a good place to come by salt. I knew there was a small salt marsh up by the Platte. It reflected an ancient saline reservoir, far underground beneath it. On the other hand, we could just bring it up from the gulf salt farms, where it was plentiful.