Outlaw Nation (A Prequel to EMP Series: Grid Down)

On October 10th, 1970 Roger stepped off the plane in New York City. Everything he owned in the world was in a large Army issued duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Thirty two hours earlier he was on patrol with his unit in the jungles of southeast Asia. As he looked down at his boots he could still see the dried up red clay mud from the village where he lived for the past eighteen months. His second tour of duty in Viet Nam was over and Roger was now a civilian. He didn't have any family to speak of. His high school girlfriend had broken off their relationship in a letter she sent him two weeks after he completed basic training. He never really had any true friends to speak of, being a loner most of his life. He had and aunt and an uncle who lived on a farm several hours upstate. They didn't know he was being discharged, and Roger wasn't even sure that they ever knew he was in the Army at all. He hadn't seen or talked to them since his Father's funeral over a decade ago. But, with nowhere else to go , that seemed as good a place as any to start. He purchased a bus ticket to Rochester ,stowed his gear and climbed aboard the bus.

Roger sat looking out the window as the bus rolled peacefully down the road. He had only been out of the country for three years but everything seemed so different. He had a feeling he could not ignore. A feeling that he did not belong here. In fact he felt as though he did not really belong anywhere. At twenty three years old he was an airborne ranger and a green beret. For the last year and a half he lived in a remote village in the central highlands of Viet Nam near the Laotian border.

He had come to know and love the native Montgnard people with whom he lived. He was trained as a medic and was responsible for the health and safety of the twelve Americans as well as the twenty three hundred natives who lived in the village. He truly loved it there. But now, here he was back in America. Back in the country of his birth. Yet, he did not feel like he was home.

About three hours into the trip , the bus rolled into a dirt lot adjacent to a truck stop and diner. The driver got on the PA system and announced the bathroom and lunch stop. “30 Minutes”, he said. He looked at his watch and said, “The bus pulls out at 1:43. If you're not on it, you're a long ways from anywhere”. Then he opened the door, got up and walked off the bus toward the diner. As Roger stepped off the bus he looked across the road and saw smoke billowing from a metal chimney pipe. His stomach growled from the aroma. The sign on the building said “The Bar-B-Que Pit”. The word Bar was in larger letters and painted in a bolder color. The smoke told him that would be a better stop than the diner, and he thought to himself how he would so enjoy a cold beer. The place was busy, and he found himself a spot at the bar and placed his order. As he drank his beer and waited for his for his pulled pork sandwich to arrive three men walked up and stood beside him. The one in front was a large man. About three hundred pounds, mostly muscle. He had long greasy hair and hadn't shaved in a week or so. Roger recognized the olive drab vest the man was wearing as a GI issue flack jacket with the sleeves cut of. No doubt because they were too narrow to encompass his huge arms. The two men behind him were of average build and each wore some article of clothing that identified them as ex-military as well. Roger looked up at the big man who was standing inches from him.”Can I help you Hoss”, he asked. The big man just smiled and looked back at his associates. As the bartender was placing Rogers sandwich on the bar, the big man reached out on snatched it from the plate. He took a big bite of the sandwich, never taking his eyes off Roger. He dropped it back on the plate, which was on the bar now in front of Roger and grabbed a hand full of fries and devoured them as well. Roger stood up and started to walk for the door. The two men with the big man stepped to the side to block his way. Roger paused and looked at them for a moment. He turned and faced the big man. “Look”, he said. “I ain't looking for no trouble here Hoss”. The big man let out a chuckle. “Well, I'm afraid you found some regardless”, he answered. Roger quickly surveyed the situation, looking at all three men. He started to turn away from the big man and quickly spun back toward him. With an open hand he trust his palm into the mans Adams apple , and he went down hard and fast, gasping for air, struggling to take his next breath. In the same motion he spun back around, grabbing the long neck beer bottle off the bar as he did. He smashed it into the side of the head of the first of the two advancing men. He too, went down. Roger squared with the remaining man and with his still open hand he delivered a forceful blow to the mans nose in an upward motion, breaking it and causing blood to pour out. He then closed his fist and delivered the final blow. A punch square to the solar plexis region of the chest, sending him too to the floor. The fight was over.

Roger looked to the bartender as if to ask, “Are we square”? The bartender nodded for Roger to look over at a man sitting at a table off to the side. The man stood up as Roger made eye contact with him. He was a smaller man with thin wire rim glasses. He too was wearing jungle combat boots and had on a olive drab boonie hat. He clapped his hands together slowly three times as he approached Roger. “Well, well, well”, he said as he glanced at his watch. “That was quick. I knew it would be , but I must admit though, I thought it was going to turn out differently” . Roger didn't speak. The small man motioned over to the bartender. “Butch, give me two of those pork sandwiches to go, and put a six pack in with it too. My new friend and I will be out back in the garage”. He looked at Roger. “Not to be presumptuous, but I'm hoping we can be friends. Can we be friends”? Roger paused as he looked at him. “I don”t even know you. I'm just passing through. Won't really have time for any new friends”. The man put out his two hands at his side , palms up and shrugged. He smiled as he said, “Well, I'm not layin on the floor, so that's something, ain't it”? He offered his hand for Roger to shake.”Names Buddy Tanner. Pleased to meet you”. Roger continued to look at him without offering his hand. Buddy said, “Too soon? I understand. Look It would be a real shame if you left without tryin one of Butches pulled pork sandwiches. And since my rude friend ruined yours, it's the least I could do. Please accept my invite out to my garage in back. We'll eat in peace and enjoy a couple cold ones”. Roger looked back at the three men , who were just getting to their feet. Buddy looked over at them. “You guys get yourselves cleaned up now. Have a drink on me”. Then he looked at Roger. “It'll just be you and me friend. I feel like you and them got off on the wrong foot”. Roger looked out the window to watch the bus pull out and head down the road. He sighed. He was still hungry, and at this point what did he have to lose? He followed Buddy Tanner out to his garage.

Outlaw Nation Ch 2
https://steemit.com/fiction/@timmo3663/outlaw-nation-ch-2