part0024

Over the next two days, Marsha and Rick made arrangements for aerial photography of their land, and signs to be put up at the gun club and Johnson Farm entrances. They were simple pieces of plywood supported with two-by-fours. The face of the sign painted white said, King Creek Farm in large blue letters.

They then flew back to Baltimore and let their landlord know they were moving out of their Delaney Valley apartment. They made arrangements for their furniture to be packed and put in storage in the mover’s warehouse in Chattanooga. Marsha contacted their few friends and gave them their new forwarding address.

They were getting ready to drive Marsha’s Camry to Tennessee when they received a call from the Burns & Burns Trust company. They were asked if they could come downtown sometime. They had a box of personal effects for each of them.

While doing a periodic cleanout of their long-term storage, they came across boxes with their names on them. The boxes contained items like their high school diplomas, baptismal certificates, wedding announcements, and a small package labeled US Army and old passports.

The next morning on the way out of town they detoured to Burns & Burns. They took receipt of the boxes and hit the road. It was a good thing the boxes were only the size of several shoe boxes as the car was loaded with their clothes.

They didn’t bother to look through the boxes but just headed west on I-70 to join up with I-81 on their way to Tennessee.

It was interesting to have the self-driving car pull into a gas station, have a reader check the car's credit, use a robot to fill the tank with the manufacturer's recommended fuel. While this was happening, another robot mounted on the roof of the canopy above the pumps cleaned their windows. The station also scanned the car’s data, but all fluids were within norms and there were no faults on any equipment.

As Marsha said, “The only thing it can’t do for us is getting out and pee.”

They didn’t intend to do the ten-hour trip in one day. Even though they did not have to steer and were feeling better all the time they did not want to push it. After spending the night in Lynchburg, VA they continued on to Pikeville. They reached the motel about nine o’clock that night, after stopping for dinner in Chattanooga. A quick shower and they were soon sound asleep.

The next day over their morning coffee at the diner they discussed their coming moves.

“Rick would you consider getting a double-wide mobile home for the farm until our new home is completed. I can’t stand the thought of living in either of those old farmhouses.”

“I think that is a good idea, Marsha. It is going to be a year or more before construction is completed, and I agree about those buildings. The Johnson house could be made livable for us, but it doesn’t seem worth the effort. The gun club building is about to fall down.”

“I have been thinking about this for a couple of days now. We could place the double-wide in the open area in front of the gun clubhouse. I noticed a place selling them as we came out of Chattanooga.”

“I noticed it also, though I hadn’t thought about us getting one,” replied Rick.

Just then Rick’s cell phone rang. He took a short call and announced, “Our aerial pictures are ready, looks like we were meant to go to Chattanooga today. ”

The weather was pleasant, so the drive to Chatham Aviation to pick up the aerial map of their land went well. The owner Mr. Chatham explained how to interpret what they were looking at in a clipped British accent. Rick understood what he was looking at from his Army days but appreciated the refresher.

He pointed at a level area right at the base of Hinch Mountain and said, “It looks like this area is flat enough for our house and any outbuildings we may want. It is near the center of the property and far back from the road.”

Marsha added, “If I read this right, we could put a winding road around these hills without having a steep driveway.”

“Those hills would be perfect for observation posts,” stated Rick.

Marsha looked at him like he had grown a second head, while Mr. Chatham smiled and said, “You remind me of another bloke I used to work with.”

Rick looked at Chatham but all he got was, “That was a long time ago and far away, almost like another world.”

Marsha said, “We will talk later.”

On the way back to Pikeville they stopped at the mobile home sales lot they had both noticed. It didn’t take long for a salesman to gravitate to them. In short order, they had discussed what they needed.

They started with two bedrooms and a bath. With only a little help from the salesman, they had talked themselves up to three bedrooms, two baths, one of which was a master bath, dining room along with a family room and living room.

They managed to run the price up to fifty thousand dollars, which put to lie the signs out front which proudly flaunted nothing over thirty thousand. When Rick brought this up to the salesman, he didn’t even have the grace to blush.

“That is if you don’t go with any options, and I don’t think you missed any.”

Just about then Rick got a gentle elbow from Marsha, so he let it go.

The salesman did get a painful look on his face when they described where they wanted it.

“Have you folks thought about sewage, water, and electricity?”

Rick replied, “There is electricity to the house it’s near. There is also a well and septic system, and I thought we could just hook into those. I know they are okay because they were checked as part of the home inspection of the property when we bought it. The home is a tear down is why we need the double-wide while we’re having our new house built.”

“Damn,” thought Rick, “I shouldn’t have told him about buying this for temporary quarters, no price reduction for us. Oh well, what is done is done.”

From the glare he got from Marsha, he knew his big mouth had got him in trouble again.

The very helpful salesman was glad to arrange for their premium display unit to be moved out to their property and set in place. They would even arrange for the foundation to be put in and hookups made by their people. Just another mere twenty-five thousand dollars!

Rick started to open his mouth then looked at Marsha. He realized that he had used up all his attaboys, and asked how he should make out the check.

The salesman was thrilled when he realized there would be no price negotiations or credit problems. He would receive full commission. He even threw in a couple of ball caps with the company logo. It was arranged for the unit to be put in place the following Friday.

After shaking hands with a very happy salesman they started back to Pikeville. Rick had been watching the gas tank and pulled into a small convenience store to fill up. It was an older station without the window washing robot. He got out of the car to go to the restroom while the car was fueling its self .

As the tank was filling he walked towards the station. He noticed a car and driver sitting with the motor running near the front door of the store. The passenger door was open like someone had just gone in to quickly buy something.

It just didn’t look right to Rick, so he looked for the license plate number. There was no plate. Just as he was thinking old blue, two-door Ford pickup about 2014, he heard a noise like a gunshot.

Reacting more than thinking he grabbed a window-washing squeegee with a hard plastic handle. As he ran to the front door of the store a man burst out.

Rick reversed the squeegee and thrust it into the man’s stomach as hard as he could. With an explosion of air, the man went down, not even gasping at first. The handgun which he had been holding went flying.

The car which had been waiting took off with the open door slamming closed from the acceleration. Rick saw that the robber was down for the count, now gasping for breath, as though he was going to die.

Rick kicked the handgun further away. Then he rolled the robber over and knelt on his back. This guy was going nowhere.

By this time, Marsha had gotten out of their car and headed into the store. She was afraid of what she would find. Her fears weren’t quite realized. There was a small Indian man there who had been shot in the side .

He was in great pain but there didn’t seem to be any arterial bleeding. It appeared that a bullet had grazed his ribs and probably broken one or more of them.

There was a first-aid kit behind the counter which contained a large sterile pad. She placed it on the wound and had the man, Mr. Patel according to the Manager on Duty sign; hold it tightly to his side to staunch the blood flow.

She then called 911. She had a little trouble telling the operator where she was at but when she said, “Patel’s convenience store,” it was quickly worked out.

The Tennessee Highway Patrol car must have been very close because it was there within two minutes. The officer got out of the car with a handgun drawn as a robbery with gunfire had been called.

The officer, Sergeant James Weselis a fifteen-year veteran didn’t take long to figure out who the bad guy was and cuff him. About that time, two sheriff cars pulled into the lot, and you could hear other sirens in the background.

Rick gave a description of the car that had driven away. Officer Weselis radioed the description to the dispatcher. The Sheriff’s Deputies took him and Marsha aside separately and took their statements.

What Mr. Patel had to say verified their story, so the Deputies were satisfied that they understood what had gone on. They Mirandized the suspect, exchanged cuffs with the Trooper, and locked him in the backseat of a cruiser.

An ambulance had pulled up, and it didn’t take long for the EMT’s to re-bandage Mr. Patel and transport him. He had called a family member who was on their way, and the State Trooper assured him that he would stay until someone arrived.

One of the Deputies came back to Rick and Marsha and said, “Where did you learn to handle a squeegee like that?”

Rick started to answer, but Marsha started to laugh.

“I guess you can say that I have experience with a squeegee,” Rick managed to get out before he too went into near-hysterical laughter.

The Deputy clearly not understanding the answer nodded his head and walked away.

This time it was the State Patrol Trooper who approached them.

“I thought you folks would like to know, the car that drove away was disabled in a wreck, and we apprehended the driver.”

“As soon as they read him his rights, he tried to start a plea bargain, so I don’t think you folks will even end up in court over this. Thanks for your help but you might think twice about charging a man with a gun with only a squeegee. It was a cheap twenty-two, but he could have killed you.”

As the trooper left Marsha said, “That is another thing we have to talk about when we get home.”

Rick thought, “Maybe it would have been better if I had been shot.”

About that time, a reaction set in, and Rick started to shake. Marsha’s eyes got wide, and she grabbed him in a hug and didn’t let go. It took him about fifteen minutes to settle down. Marsha got him a bottle of orange juice from the store. Mr. Patel’s daughter wouldn’t take any money when she tried to pay.

Rick was sitting in their car when a TV news van pulled into the driveway. A reporter got out followed closely by a cameraman. They went straight to the State Trooper who gave them a very terse description of events.

The reporter immediately approached Marsha and asked her for an interview. Marsha gave a proud description of her husband’s actions.

By this time, Rick was settled enough that he got out of the car, and was ready for the reporter and cameraman. The reporter asked him how it felt charging into possible gunfire .

His reply, “Different day, same job,” confused her, but she kept up the normal inane questions asked at a time like this.

The reporter got their names, and the fact that they were just moving to Pikeville, she showed surprise and asked, “Is Kings Creek Farm yours?”

“Yes,” Marsha replied.

“I heard about you from my Aunt Mary. The people up there are all excited; it is the first major property movement in that area in years. They hope it is a sign of better things to come. What are you doing for housing?”

As Marsha started her reply, Rick and the cameraman (who had turned off the camera) shook their heads and walked to the store to get another drink. Women discussing housing, this could take a while.

The cameraman said, “Different day, same job, were you in the service?”

“Viet Nam,” was the reply.

The cameraman said, “You don’t look that old,” then dropped the subject. Even now people weren’t comfortable discussing that war.

Rick and Marsha decided they had enough excitement for the day and would just go back to Pikeville and eat at the diner. Rick regretted it as soon as they walked in the door .

A wall-mounted TV was showing his and Marsha’s interview at the convenience store. All the patrons were glued to the screen, but the questions started as soon as the clip was over.

Rick was usually a talker, except when others thought what he had done was exceptional. He had seen exceptional, and hitting someone with a squeegee was not the same as jumping on a grenade. He gave a few short answers without being rude. Marsha was proud of her man and talked enough for both of them.

Once the excitement had quieted down Rick was approached by a tall well-built man apparently in his forties. He had a military bearing with a short brush haircut. His casual attire screamed off-duty soldier.

Holding out his hand, he introduced himself as Major Watkins.

“Rick I run the survival camp south of town. I would like to get to know you better. I think you could add something to our program.”

“I doubt that,” Rick replied.

“I think you could. You adapted a weapon and overcome. Not many people can do that,” stated the Major.

“There was not much adapting, that squeegee was the only hard edge item available,” said Rick .

“That is exactly my point. Most people would not even think to look for a ‘hard edge’, much less realize that the squeegee fit the bill.”

“That could be, but I am really too old and out of shape for those games,” Rick replied.

Watkins replied harshly, “Tell that to the punk who is sitting in jail in Chattanooga.”

Rick answered slowly, “I guess you are right. I saw what was happening, identified a weapon, and took immediate action. Most people don’t do that well.”

Major smirked and said, “You got that right. Now, will you consider visiting us, and see what we teach and if you could help?”

“I would be interested in seeing what is going on, what day would be good?”

“Any day but Mondays would be fine. That is a down day. Just stop by, no advance notice is needed. We run a guard at the gate as a practice exercise. I would like to see if they follow procedures with unannounced guests.”

Rick chuckled, “That is fine as long as procedures don’t include strip searches.”

“Just some form of identification and the name of the person you are visiting should do it,” replied the Major, “ Though I would not mind strip-searching some of the women who show up.”

“Anyway, I think you did some good work today and would like to know you better. Stop by when you can. I need to get back to base now; I hope to see you later.”

With that, the Major turned and left. Rick and Marsha sat quietly until the Major was out the door.

“Rick, I don’t like that man,” Marsha said.

“Neither do I, he rubs me the wrong way.”

“Then why did you say you would like to see what they were doing,” Marsha asked?