Barry altered his gaze from Essie to John, and then to the two rifles leaning against the wall just inside the front door. Barry hesitated for a moment then pulled at the rifle’s sling, dragging it up and over his head and shoulders. He stepped over and placed the weapon next to the door and stepped back.
John watched the entire affair and could tell Barry had experience with the rifle, but his experience didn’t rise to the level of being proficient. John could watch the way a man carried himself and be fairly certain how well the man could handle physical confrontation. Likewise, he could watch a man handle a weapon and know with a substantial amount of confidence whether he was capable of using the weapon with a high degree of skill or not. It all boiled down to the ease with which a person manipulated a weapon. The ease of familiarity came over time, as did things like achieving an expertise or being proficient.
“Sit down. Let’s talk,” John said, motioning all the men toward the small dining table off of the living room.
Jared sat Essie down on the couch, pulled back the curtains, allowing sunlight to stream in, and gave her a workbook Shannon had been using to teach her how to write her upper- and lowercase letters. “Work on these while we talk, okay.” Jared offered Essie a pencil before joining the three men at the table.
Calvin was the first to speak. “So, you say you’re looking for people to connect with. Where were you, and why’d ya leave?”
John shot Jared a quick glance. Calvin wasn’t privy to the fact that John recognized Barry as his target the night of the helicopter crash.
Barry’s face took on a sarcastic look. “Well, I was doing just fine until GI Joe here stopped by and screwed all that up.”
John drew a deep breath as Calvin looked questioningly at the former Marine turned Army Special Forces operator.
“Look, none of that matters now,” John started.
Barry assumed an air of innocence as he responded, “The man asked a question. I only answered it truthfully.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” Jared said in a soft tone that stopped the conversation in its tracks. All heads turned to Jared, who usually wasn’t prone to saying anything that could or would lead to a confrontation. “How or why or whatever doesn’t matter now. Yeah, John used to work for the government, and yeah, he tried to bring you back so you could help them get everything going again, but Jesus, now all that’s changed, and we need to focus on what is going to get us through this,” Jared said, emphasizing the word us.
The four men sat in silence for a moment before John turned to Barry. “What makes you so special to the government?”
Barry shrugged. “Don’t know. There are a lot of men and women who are special,” he mused.
“Yeah, and they’re all probably on the lists we used to work off,” John shot back.
Barry laughed quietly as if he knew something these people couldn’t even begin to comprehend. “Lists? What lists? I’d like to see the list so I can understand just how stupid the remaining people trying to run this country are.”
Without a word, John got to his feet and went to the back of the house. A few moments later he returned with a piece of paper in his hand. He dropped it in the center of the table. “There’s your list. I wrote it down from all the missions I went on and the missions I remember other teams on. The last three are all I could remember from upcoming missions.”
Barry took the paper and read through the twenty-three names. After he read all the names on the list, he held it up and pointed, starting with the name on top. “Cheryl Wiley, idiot, couldn’t find her ass with both hands and probably dead.” He moved to the next name. “Tom Whitehead, good God, what a moron, this guy was about as sharp as a wet bag of mice. Claire Thurman, ladder climber, she ran a rather successful division on the backs of people who really were the actual smart ones. She’s a politician, is that why she’s on here?” Barry looked straight at John, who didn’t flinch.
Barry looked down at the paper for a second longer, then pointed to another name. “You got to be kidding me, Mark Clancy, really? Come on, man, this guy should be riding ponies and sucking his thumb. Who put this list together?” Barry dropped the paper on the tabletop, then flicked it in John’s direction and looked away as if he were too disgusted to rest his eyes on these people.
John just stared back at Barry with a less than enthused look painted across his chiseled features. Finally, he spoke. “Not my list, I’m just the body snatcher—remember?” The tension in the room had spiked, causing even Essie to stop her schoolwork and stare fearfully at the group of men at the table.
“Listen, this is getting us nowhere,” Jared interjected. “So, you think the list is a joke, okay, whatever. John isn’t dealing with the list any longer, so it’s a moot point to even discuss it.”
“Fact,” Calvin rasped, tired of hearing Barry’s rhetoric and wanting to get the conversation moving towards what this stranger wanted with them.
“Are we done jousting over the list, then?” Jared questioned; then without waiting for an answer, he continued, “We recently lost a member of our group here, and everyone’s a bit strung out from that. Now add the fact that no one here has had four showers in the last month or slept eight hours straight and, well, we don’t appreciate a stranger coming in here and talking down to everyone while simultaneously lobbying to join our community.”
Jared waited for a response, and when he got none, he continued, “A friend of mine used to say you have to weigh the risk-reward
