Ninety Degrees Out

Sargent Stan grabbed the mic attached to his collar. Erik’s call sounded worried.

“Say again, Sarge here.” He knew his radio calls were far from regulation. There was no one around who would enforce procedures anymore. Communication was important, more so than SOP. The numbers of dead looters and other out of control criminals were mounting. The bodies stored in the community hockey rink. The only surviving officers from his detachment were hard at work documenting the identification of the dead.

The horrid job of burying the bodies fell to the city park maintenance crews. At least the Coast Guard had found s good supply of body bags. Detestable as it was, they buried their dead without embalming or caskets. Reality demanded retrieval of bags for re-use. He pitied the poor souls who dug holes in the out skirts of town. At least permafrost was no longer a problem.

Erik caught his attention instantly. Meg? Could she be Margret Alison White? Missing from Juneau way back. Almost three years ago? She came up from the facial recognition sample taken from the cameras in the station before the explosives took it out.

These little basement rooms in the lowest level of city hall were all he had left. At least the computers here still networked with the databases and servers. It was a lucky thing. The incredible solar array Anchorage installed to charge batteries for the winter months, was now working every day to keep them on the grid. Who knew the climate conscious would end up saving the day?

Small patches of the law enforcement network still talked to him. Pieces of the FBI, NSA, and CIA banded together with Homeland Security to keep track of the worst gangs of looters. Rico DeSalva and his group had picked up the worst of the worst in Alaska.

The next one with bad ideas from way back was Angel and her teenage misfits. Most of her group had abandoned her and gone back to family, putting their energy into helping instead of hurting. What interested him now, was this small percentage of formerly not truly bad people who were concentrating on taking what they wanted without reason. What was it about the flip that turned their brains to self fulfillment at any cost? A good question for a behavioral analyst or psychologist.

Angel was a misguided child, with behavioral issues from way back. Her mother a frustrated woman, with good cause, and this shift screwed her up. Now a child of fifteen was sleeping with Rico, a man of almost thirty five. Child abuse, if you thought about it from a classic viewpoint, but probably not. Angel was more than capable of choosing her own fate. Rico had no care in the world. No one had managed to stop his rampage across several towns in the lower panhandle along the coast.

Coming for the ranch, were they? He walked into the other room where the radio banks were murmuring. Traffic from all the ham radio repeaters and stations was monitored by his remaining staff. It brought news of where the trouble spots were all over Alaska.

“Move over Bill, I need to talk to the Coast Guard. We have a situation. We need to track Rico DeSalva and his gang. Somehow Angel Engel has found her way to him from Fairbanks. Remember what Dasan Stargazer found when he rescued Ariel Hiller?”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Erik vaulted onto his mare’s broad back. He never bothered with her saddle. No time. Sarge promised help, but he knew there was no time to waste getting word to Sara and Aaron.

Thundering up the path from the gate on the other side of the hill from Twig Creek, he knew he could cross to the other side once he passed the short canyon. It ran broad and shallow close to Dahl road where it turned away from the main highway. Chay’s house and the Markham place were the only two properties developed. There were several other lots which were never sold.

Chay was heading back with Alicia, Arimina and several other men. Dasan Stargazer had permission to fly them out in his Caravan. Janice Whipper at the Coast Guard station took on coordination of the search for Rico and his gang. When he told Dasan Angel had joined the gang, his first question was, “How can I help?”

The Coast Guard talked to DHS and between them a plan to track this gang came together. Getting the rest of their crew back from homestead to help defend the ranch was deemed crucial and fuel was released to Dasan to use.

It looked like they would have enough people to take care of the issue. And two more animals to care for. The lynx problem had his mother excited and looking through their canned goods. She found a full box of condensed milk on a bottom shelf in the lodge kitchen pantry. He left her rendering fat from a young bull elk Jett took down a few days ago. With all the new faces in their community, hunting for meat was a regular chore.

Splashing into the creek, he noticed a beaver dam in the beginning of construction. The pond would make another great reservoir of fresh drinking water. Beavers didn’t like stagnant water. They were great engineers. Ursa was going to love this. Hopefully, the polar bear up the road toward the homestead wouldn’t find her. She wouldn’t be ready to breed this year, but next fall? What would a polar bear grizzly cross look like? Good question for Alicia. He’d have to ask.

Something caught his ear and he sat up straighter, bringing Marble to a stop. A motorcycle was revving somewhere close. Might be Aaron was working on his bike. They had a small barrel of gasoline in the garage. But it could just as easily be a scout for Rico’s gang.

He put his spurs to Marble’s sides. At least the hole in the wall was closed. Only a locked door remained where the huge plate glass windows used to be. Aaron was working on setting a window into the log wall he built to fill in the cavernous opening. He of one of two windows in a upstairs bedroom to bring down into the great room. A really handy guy to have around.

He had to know they were safe. Sara might be over him, but he still had a soft spot for her. She would always be his first love.