Questions

(Source)

The sheriff came limping up the drive, he should have retired a while back, but no one wanted the job now. Old Frank stayed on, not because he needed the money, as little as it was now, but the folks in the area still trusted him. They knew that he was ambivalent about the so-called "peacekeepers," at least he had managed to keep things calm. Up until now.

The chief stepped to the front door, he turned to his wife and nodded. She would serve the coffee, then make herself scarce. She too felt that the sheriff's visit was anything but coincidence.

"Evening Frank, looks like we're gonna have thick fog tonight, sure you want to be out this late?" The chief said that with a grin.

Old Frank shook his head, "Yeah, yeah, kiss my ass Billy. I ain't as old as you think."

Billy, the chief, knew exactly how old Frank was, he'd served in the sandbox, the first one. It's where he got the limp. Frank had wanted to make a career of the Army, which he did. But that war in the desert had cut that career short, medically retired with fifteen years in.

"Coffee?"

"Love some, this weather is going to turn cold soon, I can feel it in my bones."

"Me too, let's go sit in the kitchen, Ida's had the stove going so it's warm in there."

"Sure thing, evenin' Ida."

"Evening Frank."

After Ida had gone upstairs, Frank took a sip of coffee, then looked Billy straight in the eye, "I hear the peacekeepers were out here earlier."

"Yup, apparently there was an incident on the old county road this morning."

"An incident Billy? An incident? Three men were murdered out there, gunned down in cold blood." Frank sat up straight, he didn't like the chief's tone.

"Well, I don't know about cold blood Frank, people are starting to get pretty upset about those boys over there in the compound. I heard that they're breaking into empty houses. Hell, some of the houses they've gone into weren't empty. From what I hear."

"We aren't at war with anyone, last I checked Billy. So those deaths go into the books as homicides."

"Not at war Frank? Not yet."

The sheriff drove off into the fog, thinking he'd made his point with the chief. As the chief watched Frank's taillights disappear into the thickening fog, he knew that things were coming to a head.

Those three men had been singled out. They had roughed up a local teenager two days before they went out "foraging," as the peacekeepers liked to call it. Goddamned theft is what it was, Billy grumbled to himself.

"Any problem hon'?" Ida came up behind him.

"Maybe, Frank's hinting that if I know what's going on, I should use what little influence I have to calm things down. He should know better."

"Things are starting to get out of control, aren't they?" Ida asked with a worried tone.

"Yeah, they are honey. The soldiers are getting bored, so they drink more, they harrass the townsfolk, they need action. I'm afraid some of the hotheads may actually escalate the situation now that they've lost people. The colonel who was here today? He's not a bad sort. But he has superiors to answer to, that worries me."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna head up into the mountains tomorrow, talk to Jack."

"Jack Bishop? Wasn't he in the Army with you?"

"Well, we were in at the same time, he was special forces, I was just a tanker. He might have some good advice. He's been in these kind of situations."

"These kind of situations?" Ida asked with an upraised brow.

"Yeah, indigenous people waging guerilla warfare."

"Is that what it's coming down to?"

"I'm afraid so, love. I'm afraid so.