Chapter Eleven: Legal Counsel — Part 3

“I see the boys have gotten back all right, and I’m sure they relayed to y’all the rules of the tribe.” Arpie says, his mouth speaking on the subject, while his eyes linger on the mint juleps sitting on the porch.

“Yes.” Teri says. “Jon and I will be ignoring them, in our own special way, as will everybody else, I’m sure.”

Arpie smiles distractingly, those feline qualities coming to the surface again. “Not for me to judge. In fact, it was brought to my attention by Jude and George that you two are quite good at the medicinals.”

“We are both field certified for emergency medical response, and Jon was actually interning before the storm, due to have her physician’s license and ER certification as well. Of course, without our field surgery kits, we’re pretty much limited to what’s on hand.” Teri speaks quite proudly of his wife.

“So I guess the basics, like birthing babies and stitching up wounds is definitely within your grasp.” Arpie says this, during which time George has mixed Arpie a fresh drink. Arpie takes a sip, smiles, and pulls a flask out of his pocket, pouring some of the contents into his drink. “Needs a little more mint.”

“Those are actually things anybody here can handle, for the most part.” Jon says. “The members of the Order are all field certified EMT, and the only remaining members are right here. ChoCho and Jynx seem to be able to handle anything, so I’m not doubting they can’t throw in a hand either.”

“Jon and Blake were both medics during the hurricane a little over a year ago. I’ve seen them do things I’d be nervous attempting.” Teri says.

Teri speaks freely for a moment, “I am thinking you have a job for us.”

“Our physician, nurses, and medical support staff were killed in the storm. I’m thinking that as many of you as can be trained and are needed should fill this vital role.” Arpie says. “These people are too proud to go back on their vote and include you, but I’m not too proud to encourage you to take up where the doctor left off. We have locked up her offices since the Storm, and fortunately, nobody’s had serious need of a doctor since immediately after the trauma. It would be work for you, when you’re ready to take it.”

Jon and Teri look at each other and, after a brief exchange of silence, Jon turns to Arpie, speaking for both of them. “If there’s an emergency, let us know. Otherwise, we’ll be in the office on Monday, to start sorting out what can be used, and what is a loss, and also start working on finding a new source of medicinals, as you called them. This is going to take a considerable amount of time and research. We should be ready to handle nonemergencies by the following week.”

“Thank you.” Arpie says. “I’ll be back on Monday to show you around.”

“You should stay for another drink.” George says, almost insistently.

“I could do that, but it would be unprofessional of me to stay too long.” By this point Arpie’s already sitting on the porch, and Joe’s made him another mint julep, this time heavy on the clear Irish whisky.

Arpie sips the drink and smiles. The decision to stay has obviously been made by the oddly subtle addition of smoky vanillin that builds in certain brands of whisky after being aged in a once used barrel for ten years. The deep warmth of the alcohol, vibrating in his blood and ears, causes Arpie to relax. He looks around the small gathering of friends, and has to wonder why the Major is so threatened by them. He remembers how threatened he had been of ChoCho, initially, but the fear of his townsfolk and their chosen one, to him, isn’t the irrational fear of stumbling upon a stranger raiding your food storage. The fear of The People is more calculated, organized, and reasoned. The swish of steel causes him to turn, and though he doesn’t let it show outwardly, his blood cools as he realizes what his two choice medics are about to engage in.

Jon and Teri return to training, working back and forth with some considerable caution, their practice blades clanging harshly. Arpie is quiet as he considers the high probability that these two, given their skill, could do serious damage to the citizens of the Glenn. People have been watching them, Arpie knows, and there is fear driving the reason and organization behind the actions of the Major. Seeing them, Arpie is certain he is not dealing with sheep. There is more than a hint of the potential of danger that the outsiders pose.

Arpie finishes his drink, careful not to look at George, and then saunters toward the porch fence, leaning against it. The shift of his weight causes the porch steps to creek, and for a moment there is silence. A second clash of steel and wit breaks loose behind him, and Arpie startles from the sound, settling only when he makes a conscious will to do so. Arpie finds himself looking at the bastard swords and crossbows that were set on the porch with Joe and Blake, left there, apparently, just in case. If the owners of those swords are half as good as the ones fighting behind him, Arpie knows that the Glenn will be like cattle in a ditch.

A scent bursts into his nose, lingering in from behind him, the sulfurous smell of a flaring wood match bringing a gentle calm to Arpie’s mind. He turns toward the sound and smell of the match, wondering how deep into himself he must have been to be so oblivious to the migration of others around him. Jude, apparently, is sharing a meerschaum pipe with George, and the two have settled against the porch fence opposite him. The pipe, a rather massive bowl with nude men wrestling in relief, reminds Arpie of Greek pottery he once saw in a gallery while visiting a friend in Phoenix. The sweet, bitter scent of the smoke is certainly not tobacco, and George offers the pipe to Arpie. Arpie takes another sip of his julep, and then takes a pull off the pipe, and his thoughts, melancholy, even fearful, start to become unexpectedly calm, finally drifting into a state of cautious nostalgia.

Before he knows it, dinner is being served and he is sitting at a table. Kevin and Jynx, apparently, have been inside preparing a meal. Though it smells good, it is made primarily of stored foods. On a plate are some fresh things like mushrooms and various berries that must have been scavenged by Jude and George in the forests south of the Glenn during the day. Jon and Teri have gone upstairs to shower off the sweat of their workouts, and are returning as the plates are hitting the table. By the time Arpie has finished his Julep and started on his food, conversations have shifted about somewhat.

“Just to let you know, Sheriff,” Jon says gently, “We can’t treat people who won’t talk to us, or our staff.”

“I was hoping my intentions were more obvious.” Arpie says. “Your crew cannot be shunned in the course of your job. I’m hoping it will bleed over into outside of work, since you’ll be saving lives and all.”

“What about ChoCho and his?” Jon asks with a nudging tone.

“George is working on it.” Arpie says. “These survival rations?” When Daria comes by to replace his plate with a fresh one.

“Yes.”

“Why ever are you eating survival rations when we have enough food grown and stored to feed ten thousand people?” Arpie wonders, eating mashed potatoes that have been rehydrated, and meat that is obviously not from an animal.

“Least importantly is that nobody has offered that food to us.” Jynx says, “Most importantly, we will not share food with people who choose not to have words with us. So enjoy what we have, Sheriff, because tonight Daria is going to break out her cello, and ChoCho, who as far as I know cannot sing for shit, will be singing to me — and I think Kevin — about something rather important to him.” She leans in closely, “And what is worse, he will be singing in Tokyo Formal Japanese as taught to him by his mother. So neither of us will know what the fuck he’s saying. Worse still,” she adds with a bit of dark affection, “Most of the people in Japan wouldn’t know either.”

“His Japanese is that bad, huh?” Arpie can’t restrain a chuckle.

“Yes, it is absolutely that bad.” Jude says.

“Then I guess I’d better stick around.” Arpie says, trying to restrain a smile.