White Wasteland, Jeff Kirkham [ebook reader with highlight function TXT] 📗

alive and that you’d like to speak with Elder Burnham, but I can’t guarantee he’ll get the message. I’m not even sure the rumors about Elder Burnham are true.”

President Thayer sighed and turned back to the chickadees out his window.

Brother Vanderlink cleared his throat. “Sir, I could assemble a patrol from Blue Army and send a probe south to make contact with Provo.”

“How many men does Blue Army have?” President Thayer turned to Brother Vanderlink, concern in his voice.

“Since the battle for the Avenues, most of the men have returned to their wards and families. About twenty-two men show up most days. That’s enough to protect Temple Square, sir.”

Something about Blue Army, and Brother Vanderlink, made Richard Thayer uneasy. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he thought it might be related to his own guilt from accepting food from the man.

“I don’t think a patrol to Provo is necessary, but thank you for your help with Temple Square. I would hate to risk more men to find out who’s in charge of the church. We’ll figure that out soon enough. Let’s help members organize—help them figure out their survival. I don’t want to put members at risk just for my peace-of-mind.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Please, Brother Vanderlink. Please feel free to call me Richard.”

Jack Vanderlink squirmed in his chair. “My father would turn over in his grave if he knew I’d called the Prophet by his first name.”

“Very well, Brother Vanderlink. Then call me President Thayer.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, brethren.” Thayer ended the meeting. “I suppose we’ll see each other tomorrow morning, then?”

The three men stood and shook hands. Jack Vanderlink lingered at the door to the office.

“President… I would feel better about things if I you’d permit me to bring a small contingent of Blue Army up here to guard your home. The Ross people had an incursion two days ago and that’s too close for comfort. I’d prefer it if I had some men watching over you and Sister Thayer.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary. I hear that the stake has begun working with some military professionals and the neighborhood’s putting together its own defense plan.”

Jack Vanderlink’s brows furrowed and he stepped back into the office. “The Ross people are putting a security force together with Mormons?”

“Yes. Sister Thayer and I should be fine under their protection, don’t you think?” President Thayer didn’t like the body language being thrown off by Vanderlink. For that matter, President Thayer wasn’t clear how the man’s relationship with the Blue Army actually worked. The army had been a temporary measure, gathered only to protect Temple Square. It was beginning to sound permanent.

“President Thayer, I don’t think we can trust your safety to those men. They’re not Saints, for one thing.”

“You don’t think the stake president can be trusted?” President Thayer knew he had wandered into a dynamic he didn’t fully comprehend.

“No, I sustain President Beckstead as my stake president. I’m saying that we can’t trust the Ross people.”

President Thayer waved away the concern. “Just because people aren’t members doesn’t mean they can’t be trusted. I’m sure President Beckstead knows them, and if he feels comfortable working with them, so should we.”

The big man conceded in word, but his shoulders hunched and his brow creased. “Okay, but I’d like to keep an eye on them. How about I send a small group, just three or four men, to watch over your home. After all, this is church headquarters, and protecting Church headquarters is part of the Blue Army mission set.”

Richard Thayer had no idea what the Blue Army “mission set” had become and he had no idea who had assigned a mission set in the first place. It sure as heck wasn’t him.

Before all this mess, Richard Thayer probably wouldn’t have bowed to the pressure. A career in business had taught him to trust his gut when it came to these moments. He sensed emotional currents running beneath Brother Vanderlink, and while he didn’t know their genesis, they worried him. Concealed emotion always found its way to the surface and when it did, the results could be unmanageable.

The next thought came unbidden: chile con carne. Meal Ready to Eat.

The picture of his wife eating out of a green pouch took the wind out of President Thayer’s sail. He suddenly couldn’t find the energy to tac upwind into his growing uneasiness.

“Very well, Brother Vanderlink. TWO or THREE men, and only until bedtime. I don’t want men staying up all night away from their families on my account. Are we agreed?”

“Yes sir.” Brother Vanderlink nodded and stepped out of the office, closing the door behind him.

4

Shortwave Radio 7150kHz 4:00pm

“Good afternoon, intrepid survivors. This is JT Taylor, Alcoholic of the Apocalypse, Drinkin’ Bro extraordinarie, broadcasting from the Wasatch Mountains of Utah. They still haven’t assigned me multiple wives, but hope springs eternal.

A Drinkin’ Bro from Camp Lajeune checked in to say that they’ve gone native. Marines are harvesting fields and milking cows. That’s got to be one helluva base commander to convert a military base into America’s biggest survival compound inside of just three months. They built a thirty-mile barricade made of shipping containers that they pillaged out of Charleston. That’s how they keep the zombies at bay. It’s like a modern day Rome.

A friend of mine in McKenzie, Tennessee checked in to let me know he was safe during the end of civilization. Very considerate, Mister Mat Best, Army Ranger. Apparently, he’s running defense for a town in the middle of the Midwest. Sounds like they’re getting pounded by wave after wave of urban refugees from a half-dozen different cities. Just about everyone in the Midwest has run out of bullets, so looks like they’ll be re-inventing the bad old days of archery and sword fighting. Doubt they taught you that in Ranger School. Watch your back, old friend.”

Ross Homestead

Oakwood, Utah

“Mister Ross. Wake up. We have a problem. Two MRAPs just pushed through our barricade and they’re heading up the hill. Jeff Kirkham scrambled the