Chapter 21: Booted From Paradise Pt III
I didn't think much of Calli's last words she left me with and I didn't have long to think about it either because I was soon standing between Doyle and Pryor across from my men. John nodded at me from the other side of the table, and Ramos had a peculiar look on his face when he darted his gaze back towards the prostitute whose company I just departed. Looking back at me, I saw Ramos about to say something over the noise of the even more crowded establishment when his thoughts of speaking were interrupted by a skinny white girl dressed a bit like Calli who sat on his lap. I believe the woman who sat on Ramos' lap said her name was "Misty" but I gave it no mind and noticed the chair where Nathan sat was still empty when I felt Doyle pull on my coat. I lowered myself, and he only said;
"Go get a drink at the bar with Nathan and bring him back here, should be 'go time' very soon."
I was going to ask him what the signal was, or how soon till Camden arrived but his only response was to make a gesture with his head towards the bar and that was that. My youngest guardsman was still red in the face by the pretty girl sitting on his lap but I knew he was in company that would keep him safe so I proceeded towards the bar leaving Mr. Schmitt a pat on the shoulder as I went.
Weaving through the crowds, I was surprised that the place was even busier than when we arrived. Most of those indulging in the establishment's offerings weren't even sitting, and yet, there was still one empty seat right beside Nathan. Taking my seat beside my guardsman on the rickety stool, I would have resumed looking around the place to ensure all the men were in their stations. However, Nathan himself captured my attention when I saw he hadn't even glanced in my direction since I sat down. Although it was clear he had noticed my arrival beside him because the first thing he said to me after I sat down was;
"Hey Paul. What do you think a 'Nasty Nunnery' is?"
Bewildered by this, I replied automatically, "I have no idea. What?"
I saw where he'd been staring since before I even sat down, and noticed the white chalk scribbled on a large blackboard illuminated by four dim lightbulbs on a shelf full of bottles. He said without diverting his focus from the blackboard for an instant;
"I mean I saw one gal in here wearing something like a nun outfit… Thought that was kind of cute. It's almost like the owners of this place have no idea New Canaan ain't Catholics and just mishmashed some generic 'Christian stuff' into the theme of this place…"
I had noticed that, and even noticed one or two prostitutes in short blackish outfits. I figured that to be strange tribal garb while I was standing beside Calli but now that it was mentioned, they did sort of look like nuns in a way. Then I recalled the few white crosses on the exterior walls of the building while the interior was largely devoid of any reference to our home beyond the name of the place, and… The menu.
Nathan went on and I read the large board he was studying so meticulously that went something like;
10 min. 4 NC Cns. 50 bllts 9mm Up. Or 50cps
20 min. 9 NC Cns. 110bllts 9mm+ Or 110cps
Holy Trinity. 15min. 11 NC Cns. 130 Bllts 9mm Up. Or 130cps
Garden Snake Special. 20min. Phto Incl. Proof Requird. 10 NC, 120 bllts
Certified Canaanite. 10min. Virgin Proof Rquird. 2 NC cns **DEAL!**
Nasty Nunnery. 20min. VIP! 12NC cns 150Blts 9mm+ = Caps
…
There was more. A lot more. So much so that the board on the wall was really hard to read. I figured the deals were something talked about with the women's clients themselves and not something ordered from the menu. Either way, before I could explain to Nathan that I still had no idea about the answer to his question, I was confronted with one of the bartenders who only stood before me with a scowl on his face and a raised eyebrow.
Before he could utter the "What you want!?" he clearly had on his lips, I told him "Bartender's choice." His face softened, and Nathan said with his attention still on the board;
"Shouldn't have done that."
"Explain," said I, seeing the bartender reach for something off the topmost shelf beside the "services" menu.
"Look at'em" said Nathan, nodding towards the bartender, "He's gonna stiff you."
This wasn't news to me, nor was it the first time I had to buy alcohol in an establishment I wanted nothing to do with. I only told him, "I know…"
He shrugged, still squinting at the menu. "I almost want to try the Nasty Nunnery… You know, just out of curiosity…"
"Sure you don't want to take advantage of that deal for 'Certified Canaanites?' Might want to dip your toe in before you take a dive."
"Can't, Paul. I'm not a virgin, remember?... It says proof required…" he thought for a moment "... But how would they even prove that?"
"By your social skills around the opposite sex, I'm assuming… That or the special is oriented towards our sisters within the wall… easier to verify them."
He chuckled, "Didn't see any males beyond customers here. Then again, maybe that's a point on its own.. Speaking of which-"
Before he could go any further, I interrupted him, "Before you go on about anything else, I need to know the sign."
He looked at me in confusion for a moment and was going to answer me when he froze. I saw why he froze, and the bartender was standing across from me once again on the other side of the counter. With a small shot glass full of brown liquid between us, the bartender shouted over the noise of the room,
"It's Brandywine's 1910 Arkansas Whiskey. Unopened since the bombs…" There was a momentary pause before he nodded down towards the drink and added, "That'll be 4 Canaa Coins."
There was a smirk on his face, probably from knowing it was worth 10 minutes of wastelander bliss. What most of the wasters in the room could only spend for the best 10 minutes of some of their lives, this bartender wanted to see if I would actually pay it for a single shot. The look on his face said that somehow, he knew I would. Maybe he knew I was a New Canaanite, or maybe this was his way of testing to see if I was, or if I was just stupid. Either way, I looked him dead in the eye, knowing what we were only a few minutes away from doing to his employment, and handed him six New Canaan minted coins with the words, "rest is for you, sir."
The bartender let out a soundless laugh as he pocketed the money, and went to turn away to serve other customers when my eyes alone prevented him from averting his gaze. Knowing he was watching me, I took the expensive shot glass, and poured it out onto the already sticky countertop. The bartender broke his gaze with a confused and almost frightened look, and my attention went to Nathan as he said;
"And there goes 4 silver pieces, right onto the countertop. Then here's a peasant like me with my muddy 2 bullet beer."
"What's the signal and when's it coming, Nathan?" I asked, returning to my demeanor from earlier.
As per usual, it was hard to wrangle his attention, "Seriously though, shame to waste that. I know he'll need the tip, but still…"
"What's the signal?" I asked him again, and feeling that any second the signal could possibly come.
He sighed and relented, "… 3 flickers of the light mean Camden's guys are in position. From there, it's up to us about go time. You taking the lead on this by the way, or is Doyle?"
I gave my own sigh, thankful for the answer and gave him my answer to his question, "I am, just keep calm till then. It'll all be fine so long as nobody sets anything off too early and keeps natural."
"Don't set things off too early? Stay natural?..." asked Nathan, switching his focus back and forth from the board to me, "… You mean like drawing attention to ourselves by wasting expensive drinks?"
"You're the one talking about spending his entire month's pay on a 'Nasty Nunnery', so don't get lippy with me..." I knew he was going to say he was kidding about that, but I did owe him some explanation for why I did what I did. "… Still, what I did is good attention. The attention I showed says that we aren't here to be bought out. We're here for our demands to be taken seriously and not negotiated with when it's go-time…"
He nodded in surrender, still reading that board as I wrangled his attention to prove my point, "… Look at him now, the bartender. Right now he's being a good little employee and probably telling his bosses about the expensive services he rendered to me…"
Nathan's eyes went to the bartender standing on the far end of the bar and speaking to one of the female bartenders as well as a man in a black overcoat. I paid them no mind, only explaining to Nathan, "… Doyle said Camden will be along any minute, and I believe him. In the meantime, we still have a job to do till the lights flicker."
The worst that would happen by my display to the bartender was probably a few questions from the establishment's owners or bouncers. Although in my experience, such a thing would likely just bring about questions like "What else can we get you?" since a customer who wastes expensive drinks might also waste money on other things as well.
Still, as soon as I told Nathan that we had a job to do, his eyes went back to me from the bartender on the other end. However, he stopped when he saw something and replied, "What a coincidence, look at this… Speaking of job to do…"
He tilted his head forward, I turned my attention back to the chalkboard instead of where he was looking, and my guardsman stood himself up to confirm something I only suspected before sitting at the bar.
I refused to bring this up earlier out of an attempt to blend into the crowd but before I sat beside Nathan, I saw the backs of two younger men occupying the bar seats just to the left of the empty chair. There was something about their frames and their lowered heads that caused my suspicion, but I shrugged it off since I felt Nathan would have approached them earlier if they were New Canaanites. Perhaps Nathan tried to ignore their presence beside him in the packed bar out of knowing them, or perhaps he was really so intrigued by the services menu to notice them. Either way, when I reminded him of our job to do, he stood himself up and placed himself between the two young men on my left, putting an arm over both men's shoulders as I continued to read the board with a whisper to myself, "Good man."
"My my my, it can't be! What on earth could bring little Hector Beltz and Calvin Willett to a place like this!? Could Evening Mission Prep have let out early tonight?" came from Nathan on my left beneath the noise of the room.
Nathan always cracked me up, and I took mental note of the names while a smile curled my lips and I continued to look at the board.
"Hello to you too, Nathan…" said one of the near-men of our home who I thought might have been the Willett son, "… You know Evening Mission Prep is tomorrow night."
I could feel Nathan staring deeply at both the faces under his wings, clearly enjoying this, "Gotcha" moment as he replied, "That's right! Must have slipped my mind! You boys don't get lots of free time. Figure it might be a good idea to get a couple stiff drinks on a nice night off? Maybe lose that V-card before your first mission? When is that by the way? Only a couple months to go, right?"
"Start of March…" Said the voice of the other one, the "Beltz" family's second son. "We're just here for drinks, that's all… Well, at least I am."
"What are you doing!?" shouted the voice of Mr. Willett at his friend. Both young men lowered their heads, revealing a crazy looking grin on the face of Nathan in my peripherals.
"Is that so, Mr. Calvin Willett?..." Asked Nathan, making sure to pronounce the name in its fullest and apparently enjoying this too much, "… What in the world would your mother say about this? And what about Lora Miletto!? I don't think she'll be too sweet on you after hearing where you spend your free time!?-"
"You're one to talk, Nathan!..." shouted Calvin as he raised his head, "… You lost your virginity On Mission! That's worse!"
I knew Nathan did some off-shift work with some of the young adults of Missions Coordination a couple times a month. As this scene played out, I couldn't tell you why exactly, but I found this confrontation between my guardsman of 24 and his friends who'd yet to even take their first mission so amusing. At the accusation from Calvin Willett, Nathan's resolution remained stern and authoritative, even if his words would have had me crying in laughter in another situation;
"... And I still write letters to Alyana Mituskrona'ka'na every month! You gonna keep in touch with one of these floozies!?" Despite the shouting, us New Canaanites at the bar were in our own isolated world as the noisy one outside our bubble paid no mind to any of this drama.
The Willett son was going to say something else, but a violent motion of the hand from Nathan kept Calvin Willett in silence. Then the head of Hector Beltz rose, "Why are you here, Nathan? What could bring You to this place when you're off duty?"
The demeanor of both young men cooled, seemingly having caught Nathan as well. Nathan released his grip on the men, stood himself more upright and replied simply, "I'm on duty now."
"Oh yeah?" said the Willett son accusingly, "We all know you get off when the day shift ends at 6, so why's it 9pm right now?"
The young men seemingly felt satisfied until Nathan's short defense turned into another offense as a smile grew across his face once more, "I'm on a special assignment. See that man beside you, Calvin? You know who that is?..."
I kept my eyes forward, but removed the amusement from my expression as the two faces beneath Nathan went to me. When both young men were looking at me, Nathan added, "… That's my boss, Lt. Paul Young. I'm sure you know his daughter from Missions Coordination. Say hi, fellas."
I could only see their faces in my peripherals, but they weren't wearing good ones as they both said slowly, "Hello, Mr. Lieutenant Young" and "Hello, Michelle's dad" together.
My focus remained on the bar, "Hello, boys" and Nathan leaned in, saying softer than before;
"You think he's here for fun and drinks!? You think Lt. Doyle, Pryor, and their men are here for a day shift team building activity?"
The return of Nathan's arms around the young men's shoulders prevented them from seeing where the men he spoke of sat. The young men didn't answer the question, and the dim lights across the establishment flickered three times very noticeably in the space of two seconds.
The men's silence lingered, I saw some employees of the establishment make for the exit from a backroom, likely to investigate the short power hiccup, and just then I was prompted to settle this matter before settling the last one for the night;
"Boys, finish your drinks and leave, you have 15 seconds."
With Nathan's arms still draped over the shoulders of both young Canaanites, they did as I said and swallowed the rest of their drinks in less than five seconds. I added cooly, "Good, now leave immediately. I won't tell your parents where you've been, but I also won't lie if they come asking, and that's the best deal you'll get from anyone else in the Guard."
Nathan allowed the young men to stand, and he took his place by my side as I stood as well. After leaving me with a subtle "Thank you, Lieutenant Young" Mr. Willett and Mr. Beltz were already moving hastily towards the exit by the time I rose to my feet. Nathan's face was back to business and knew without word that the only reason I let them off with a warning was because I didn't deem alcohol consumption to be worthy of ruining their first mission, especially because they didn't engage in this place's other services. By the time the men were walking out the doors, I looked to Nathan and told him plainly, "Let's get to Doyle and finish this, I'm ready to go home."
The employees who went to check the power generators out back never returned, and Nathan and I stepped up to Doyle, Pryor, Mr. Schmitt, John, and Ramos. By this time, the girl had departed from Mr. Ramos' lap, and the men sat eager to go even if they were in the middle of something. It appeared that John, Ramos, and Mr. Schmitt were engaged in a deep discussion, and paid no mind to Nathan and I's arrival. Once I stepped between Doyle and Pryor, I gave one last look over the scene. Hordes of dirty wastelander men filled the room, women carted men to and fro, and the noise was so loud as the persistent smell of this place continued to fill my nose. Then I remembered something from before, and looked through the crowds, seeing just through a small gap where those young girls were still huddled in the corner. I couldn't tell if any had left since I first noticed them on my walk over to Calli, but the possibility of them being made to sell themselves still persisted and I leaned down to Doyle;
"Hey Doyle, you see those young girls in the corner over there?"
He broke his attention from the conversation between the guardsmen at the table and immediately knew where to look. He apparently read my mind, "I don't know for sure, either. Wanna put some guys over there to figure things out? We can start whenever, so you make the first move, Paul."
I nodded in acknowledgment and said to him without thinking about it, "I'll have John, Ramos, and Duncan move over there immediately when it starts."
Doyle only said, "Agreed" and nodded, turning his attention back to the conversation as I was already moving around the table to inform the appropriate men.
Once this was done, I stood between John and Nathan's chairs, looking at Doyle across the table and I didn't even need to ask. Over the laughing and indistinct chatter from all the voices around us, Doyle said, "Soon as this talk is over, I'm ready!" Lt. Pryor beside him laughed, and both men turned back towards John who was speaking.
I hadn't caught more than a few bits of the conversation between the men at the table since I returned, but it was evidently very much about the purpose of this establishment. All I really caught was the end when John Langdon was saying to Duncan across from him;
"… Does that make sense? Just imagine being in a field all day in hundred-degree weather, your wife on the loom the whole time, no air conditioning, and the last time you, your wife, and all of your neighbors bathed was two months ago. If you're a man obsessed with sex, and you can get over the smell of all that dirt and sweat, and… funk, and Still think about sex with Fondness, you're probably not someone an Israelite would want to hang around with. No better than this lot here. Get it?"
"Yeah, I mean I Get it. Just doesn't normally feel that way… Also doesn't really explain some of the other feelings I get round places like this," said Duncan, almost inaudibly through the noise,
"Ha!..." laughed John, "What you mean? I saw that sour look on your face every time someone passed behind you! Even when that gal sat on your lap ten minutes ago!... But what do you mean when you say 'other feelings' exactly?-"
Ramos began to say something but I couldn't focus because my attention immediately went to Doyle and Pryor when they turned to look up at the burly bald man standing between them. My attention went entirely to them when they stood and I was already at their side on the opposite end of the table by the time my fellow lieutenants were on their feet. The conversation had ended in a moment, and a brief glance back at the table showed vacant chairs and my three men already maneuvering towards the young girls in that far corner. I turned back to the man across from Doyle and Pryor, seeing the crowd around us had dispersed, and revealed two other thuggish men with bandoliers across their torsos and beneath thick leather jackets. The thugs looked to me briefly when I inched closer to Doyle and then I heard the bald one in the middle say to the three of us with a sneer;
"You three and your friends need to order more drinks or some girls or leave. You and your table have been here too long to still be on one drink and we don't tolerate loiterers."
"Who are you!? The owner?" shouted Lt. Pryor in his best fake drunk voice.
The bouncer said, "No, we're the 'Janitors.' We take out the trash and keep this place clean of freeloaders."
"Well let us speak to the owners then." Said Doyle, not even pretending to be intoxicated.
The thugs of this place clearly didn't have much tolerance or patience for anything, because the bald one said in an instant, "Nah, I think you and your men have stayed past your welcome. Leave now."
To emphasize their point, the three bouncers all lifted the bottom of their jackets to expose large caliber pistols as if to say they were more than willing to use them to earn their pay.
At sight of these weapons and in direct defiance of the sinister faces those men wore, Doyle said in all his wonder, "Well this is outrageous!..." he took one step back, "… Something like this makes my friends and I so angry we could just stand on a table in protest of such treatment!"
As I stepped up onto the table, I saw the faces of the bouncers go from menacing to shocked when Doyle and Pryor took out their own guns and even more so when I drew mine.
Pointing the gun at the ceiling, I fired three times, bringing the entire room to a silence beneath the burst of the weapon. The fragments of debris floated slowly down from the ceiling, and after less than a millisecond of pure silence, the place was engulfed in chaos as the weapons of all the guardsmen in the establishment were drawn at once. Wasters and prostitutes fled out of the building screaming while the Jukebox was unplugged and my gun stayed above my head. As the building emptied, some wasters drew their own weapons, briefly aiming them at me before realizing why the establishment's "Janitors" weren't drawing their own weapons to defend against this apparent hold-up. Then those heroic wasters saw the men holding guns to the heads of the bouncers and removed me from their sights at the orders spoken throughout the room;
"Holster your weapon and leave, this doesn't concern you."
The armed wasters all decided it best to not play hero, and complied with the demand, vacating the establishment as the last of the general populace fled out into the cold December night.
The bald bouncer who set off the operation was the only one still aiming a gun at me when the last customers were on their way out, but his gaze went all over the room wondering why his men weren't doing anything before seeing the situation for what it truly was. All the establishment's customers were gone, and the place was vacant save for 12 thugs each with a gun trained on their person, and three "wasters" forming a perimeter around that corner full of young girls. There I stood, and when I met the eyes of the bald thug, he lowered his weapon, prompting me to ask,
"Can I speak to the owners?"
Before the thug could utter a word, a muffled voice came from a back room next to the bar;
"What's going on out there!? What happened!?"
The voice needed no answer because less than a few seconds later, the door opened and out came a young man in a long faux fur coat over a dirty suit top with jeans. Following him and taking her place beside the young man was a woman of what looked to be around 40ish with glasses and a perm who I assumed to be "Mrs. Dottie Norton." Then lastly was a muscly bald man built almost exactly like some of the bouncers wearing face tattoos and was who I presumed to be the man called "Gus" that Calli referred to.
The three took their spots in the center of the room between my co-lieutenants and the thugs before them when the thugs fell back. The bartenders were frozen in place behind the counter, and when the owners came to a halt at the center of the room, the bartender from earlier said aloud;
"That guy! There on the table! He's the one who wasted the drink!"
Gus shot a look at the bartender, "Shut up!" then looked around at all his men, "Why aren't you firing!?" before seeing the guns placed on each of the thugs.
At last, I lowered my weapon from the ceiling, and adjusted my footing on the tabletop as I met the eyes of the young owner in the suit ensemble, "You Lansing?"
The near-kid adjusted the flaps on his coat and said in almost a yawn, "Yeah, that's me. What do you want and why are you shooting holes in my bar? Is this a stick-up or something?"
I was already almost entirely disgusted by the fact a boy like this was running such a place, and running it so well. This was the largest operation of this kind to open up in the Christmas season in probably 6 or so years. I briefly thought about the owner of the… "Wagon" last year who was a rather kind and understanding mustachioed man who was agreeable to such a degree that we almost let him continue his mobile sex camper business there outside the market.
Still, this place, the popularity, and the demeanor of all involved was what shook me back to reality and I replied to the young man in an instant, "We're here on behalf of our home to close this place, and I hear you're the one responsible for the enterprise."
The young man put his hands in his pockets, "You must be that 'High Priest Mordecai' or whatever…" said the kid and my brain almost short-circuited at his assumption, thus preventing me from speaking anything before he added, "… That's why you interrupted our little party back there? Gus and I were having a good time, except Mrs. Dottie here…"
I didn't know what to make of that before he clarified, "… Girls, come out, you're done for the night!..." Three half-dressed prostitutes ran out of the back room, into the hallway, and disappeared in only a few seconds. Likely disappearing into a storage closet or something as Mr. Lansing said, "Sorry I like business meetings to be entertaining, Mrs. Norton."
The trembling woman beside him in the dusty suit and large glasses kept looking at me like I was there to punish her specifically. Either way, I realized I didn't care about any of this, so I spoke up immediately;
"With the authority of our home, the Constable, Bishop, and the Elders of our Temple, we're demanding you close your business. In light of what you all had done to our emissary, we're demanding you comply Without negotiation, and without the compensation originally offered."
I saw Gus clench his fists a bit tighter, looking around the room as if to tell his men to ignore the guns to their heads and fire anyway. Mrs. Dottie trembled a bit more and looked like there was a little more sweat on her face after the demand. Mr. Lansing on the other hand kept his casual demeanor, but my order clearly affected him as he said in something I could only describe as a calm panic;
"Look, what happened to your emissary, what happened to that guy wasn't our fault. Neither me, nor Mrs. Dottie, not even Gus had that guy Darrell beaten up."
I broke my focus from Mr. Lansing at the sound of the front door opening and a brief glance behind showed it was Lt. Camden who'd entered with a New Canaan .45 SMG in hands. He said aloud,
"Lt. Young, Doyle, Pryor, I got 12 of my boys surrounding the place, all's quiet at the moment. Crowd's at bay."
Pryor and Doyle looked back at him and Pryor said, "Thanks Camden, standby for now…" The front door gave the sound of opening but did not close, and Pryor glanced back at me, "… Go ahead, Young."
Still thinking about what Lansing had said despite the entrance of Camden, I thought of what I knew happened to Darrell Fleischer of Missions Outreach when he came here yesterday. The bottom line was that I didn't know much, and he wasn't in much condition to tell about it from what I heard about how he ended up. I suppose it was possible that the owners had nothing to do with Darrell's condition, but that was irrelevant. I looked at the owners' faces, thought of how it "wasn't their fault" and asked;
"That so?"
Lansing shrugged his shoulders, his voice returning to indifference as he answered, "Yeah, the guy got up and started telling Mordecai or whoever's demands to everyone at the bar there. Our customers decided to handle him the way a mob would if you try to take away a dog's bone. I suppose Gus's guys coulda done more to stop it, but you can't put down a mob like that…."
"Yes you can…" I said automatically while thinking; I've seen Graham do that on his very own less than a few weeks ago.
A momentary pause ensued before Lansing glanced at his business partners and said to me, "… Either way, you go tell your Elders or whatever, what happened, and I'll give Mr. Fleischer's original offer another once over..."
I didn't know if I had the authority to comply with the negotiation, and wondered if the Elders and Constable would be willing to negotiate if they decided to believe in the owners' innocence. My thoughts of returning with the owners' response were put to rest and I realized the only truth I needed to know about the situation when Mr. Lansing added after a moment;
"… But you can leave now."
No. Whether or not they were an innocent party in what happened to Darrell Fleischer was irrelevant. Our demands were a mere nuisance to them, something to subvert, or something to delay. I glanced back at the corner of the room where the little girls stood frightened, barely clothed, and despite the question of their exploitation remaining unanswered, I could not tolerate even the possibility as I thought of everything said to Calli and everything I'd seen since entering this place. I took the authority upon myself, and said to Mr. Lansing;
"The new offer stands."
The look of boredom on Mr. Lansing's face dropped to one of frustration or annoyance before he said, "And what if we don't accept the new offer?"
The room fell even more silent, the only noise being the muffled crowds and their indistinct chatter beyond the windows and beyond the perimeter of Camden's men. I looked to all the faces holding the thugs at bay, each one no matter how young was making me proud in their expression alone. All men of New Canaan in that room no matter how experienced or inexperienced, bore the look of one ready to defend their God and their home no matter the cost with vicious intensity. They all looked as though they were the embodiment of Graham's ruthless sermon and the brutality of what mercy can sometimes look like if tested too much.
"And what if you don't accept the new offer?..." I asked Mr. Lansing to reiterate. His only response was a nearly imperceptible nod. At that I told him, "… Well then tomorrow we're going to ask you to shut down and move far away from New Canaan once more."
A great laughter erupted throughout the room. Laughter even from the bouncers with my men's guns placed to their heads and backs. Apparently, this was enough to calm the bag of nerves called Mrs. Dottie Norton who despite her ongoing trembling was able to vocalize her amusement at such an inconsequential threat. All the while, the faces of every guardsman throughout the room had not changed in their intensity at all. I seemed to feel the eyes of all the men of New Canaan throughout the room at once in a single second as if to tell me to go on. Before I could, Mr. Lansing subdued his laughter and asked me,
"That's it? You'll ask us again?"
"Yes, but tomorrow morning there will be 50 of us, all with automatic weapons, and explosive charges already set up throughout the compound... Some of Lt. Camden's men should be on the explosives part now."
All the laughter throughout the room had died completely by the time I finished the last syllable. The latter detail was true. Although I couldn't tell where they installed every piece of C4 and dynamite throughout the trailer park exactly, that task was one only myself and the other Lieutenants knew about. It surprised me how not even this detail made the faces of my men waver in any conceivable way. The message was true, and one that cemented our resolution: We will be peaceful with you, and treat you fairly, but you will not push us.
The thought of blowing up a building full of innocent or lost people was heartbreaking to us, and one we prayed we would never have to do. Although the explosives have come out for situations like this in the community's past, there have thankfully never been any recorded occasions where it was detonated. After all, the important thing is hardly ever what you would do, the important thing is what the enemy Thinks you would do.
If the tone in which I spoke or the faces of my men didn't say how serious we were, the guns to the heads of so many thugs by otherwise peaceful men did. Either way, the threat or the mere possibility of the threat being carried out evidently worked because after everything went silent, Mr. Lansing said in a tone of seriousness I hadn't heard from him yet;
"You want tribute? Or a tax or something?"
All I said was the word "No" in a voice devoid of all threat or intensity.
The young owner began to nervously stamp his foot as he joined Gus in looking from guard to guard as if to beg one of them to resist. Probably even more frustrated by the one word answer I gave, he said frustratedly;
"Pleas- Are you sure? Surely we can work something out. There's a lot of people invested in this place and we literally Just broke even-"
I cut him off, deciding it to be more fun to look at the bartender across the room from earlier as I spoke, "There is nothing to negotiate. We want this shut down. It Will be shut down. The terms are non-negotiable. You can either comply at this very moment, or enjoy your last night of operation, knowing that tomorrow you may not be in a condition to comply after the morning when we return."
Again, the young man looked all around the room, seeing all the men under his employ with guns to their heads, and then back at me knowing there were explosives already installed around the compound that the man on the table was more than willing to use. I still prayed the young man would not call me on our willingness to explode a compound full of people, but I believe he knew that the explosives were a last resort in case they could hold their own against the 50+ New Canaanites with automatics out in the desert.
At last, Mr. Lansing stomped his young foot on the ground as if to put a hole in the floorboard and shouted "Fine!..."
I would have smiled in satisfaction if I had any less control over myself. Gus stood there with his mouth agape, either too angry or too upset by the loss of probably his greatest business venture. Mrs. Dottie continued her nervous convulsion, and then Lansing exploded with a finger pointed at me;
"… You're making a big mistake though! I hope you realize that! You don't even know who I am! You'd know my dad if you religious freaks ever left this wilderness shithole! My dad's a councilman! NCR got no tolerance for those who don't allow free trade in or out of their territory!..."
As the frustrated young man paused to catch his breath, I explained cooly, "And New Canaan has no tolerance for visitors who refuse our rules within our territory, especially when those visitors create a racket for exploiting women and even little girls."
Lansing was going to say something halfway through my statement, but stopped when I uttered the last part. His eyes went to the corner, his face deadened, and he barked, "Whatever! NCR will hear about this though!"
As I took a step down from the table, I took his non-answer about the little girls as its own answer, and on que, every guardsman throughout the room pulled the pistols from the belts of the thugs before them.
While Mr. Lansing continued stomping his foot and fuming, I replied to him, "And New Canaan will tell NCR what happened… If they aren't too busy in the Mojave to deal with the tantrum of a councilman's son…"
It took every part of me to not refer to Mr. Lansing as "a councilman's spoiled brat" in my closing words.
The rest of Doyle, Pryor, and my men filed towards the door. Pryor saying for the room, "You all will find your guns in a bag off the caravan road."
I said, "Ya'll should start packing up now, we'll be back to check your progress in the morning" while Lansing and Gus continued to fume, and John, Duncan, and Ramos led the 12 little girls out into the cold asking about their parents.
The Next Morning
I didn't mean to lie at the time, but it turns out we weren't able to muster 50 bodies the morning after. Then again, I only said that there was going to be 50 of us if they didn't agree to the terms. By the time we left the sack of 13 handguns by the green sign saying "Paradise 1 mile This way!", we could see the hoards of wasters leaving and the neon sign shutting off. So, instead of the 50 suggested, there were only a little over 30 of us standing in the middle of the desert all with our automatics and long rifles, and me with a pair of binoculars satisfied that the closing of that brothel was still underway. A few of the employees from either Lansing, Gus, or Mrs. Dottie's caravans were pulling out the signs along the road to that trailer park and after a few moments to ensure our presence was known, I saw a man atop a trailer look our way and wave us down. I waved back with my binoculars to my eyes, and knew our job was done when the unknown employee ceased his waving and held up a special finger towards me.
I felt a euphoric sense of relief, and with the packup still underway, I turned to the men all mustered there in the desert and said, "Looks like we're good to go, boys."
Although it may not have been the most exciting shutdown for a business like that in the history of New Canaan, I was more than relieved that it went so smoothly in spite of the potential for going so wrong.
I never learned for sure if Mr. Lansing and Gus moved their business 8 miles south or not. The next two hours after we left our confrontation with the owners was spent reuniting the young girls with their families. It turned out that some of those girls were just standing in that corner while their mothers or sisters worked for the brothel. But some of them refused to talk or couldn't because of language reasons, talk about why they were there. Either way, the children who didn't have parents or had parents of an abusive nature were taken to the gates of New Canaan. Some of the translators from the refugee village or Missions Outreach interviewed the children and by the end of the night 6 of them were adopted by the community.
There was a lot that went into that, but by the time midnight came around, I was returning home. I told my wife I would tell her all about the assignment later, and that was what I did after the early morning part was over and I was allowed some additional time to rest.
In the end, I don't know what happened to Mr. Lansing or Gus. It was evident amongst the wasters who came to us for the winter that they were very upset by the shutdown, while others just felt like they got what they wanted out of the place and were indifferent to the shutdown. Strangely enough, it was about a week later that I got to speak to Mrs. Dottie Norton, and some of her people when I was doing one of my patrols around the market.
Mrs. Dottie seemed genuinely remorseful for taking part in the brothel venture with Lansing and Gus, and told me she was about to leave and continue on with her caravan's original destination despite the onset of winter. I told the poor woman that there was seriously no malice towards her and her part in the brothel's setup, that all was forgiven, but she insisted on leaving when her mules and people were winter ready.
It was actually during this talk that Ms. Callie Carson came up and I got to speak with her again. Calli still refused my invitation to come to New Canaan but thanked me for not turning the shutdown into a bloodbath. I gave all the credit to God, and reminded her of the offer to see what we're truly all about. A little bit of light showed when she said she would think about it after she was done with the business in Hanksville. Apparently, some guy paid a fortune and waited for more than 8 months to have Callie Carson and her "colleague" Ms. Misty Pross visit with him at his home in Hanksville. The man said he was a huge fan of their shared work in the movie from New Reno called "A Tale Between Two Leggies" or something horrible like that.
Either way, I departed the company of Mrs. Dottie, Calli, and Misty, warning them that the region around Hanksville was reportedly very dangerous with Legion expansion. I'd never see any of them again, but although that could have been for any number of reasons, I tried not to think of the bad ones.
In any event, Christmas was only a week away after that conversation, and after the kind of year I had, I was glad it could end on such a nice note, and without any bloodshed during the final operation of the year.
Although things were bright in my life, the world around my home sat alone in the dark, and after such a year full of good and bad, I was more eager than most years to celebrate the birth of that light… It was only a tragedy that this incident sat as the formal end of a relatively peaceful period. Everything I've talked about in the world outside, all the problems, all the enemies, and all of that mess coming for us and the burned man was still inching closer, and nobody but God could understand what that would look like or how to stop it.
