White Wasteland Jeff Kirkham (book series for 12 year olds TXT) 📖

“Let me do the talking in the presence of the prophet,” he ordered.

Jeff said nothing.

President Richard Thayer answered the door. Silver hair slightly askew and still wearing his reading glasses, he seemed to realize with a start that a stranger stood on his doorstep. He peeled away the glasses and dropped them onto a lanyard around his chest.

The prophet reached out his hand, “Hi. I’m Richard Thayer.” Jeff shook his hand, unable to suppress a grin. He hadn’t expected the prophet to be such a regular guy. “Come in. Come in.” President Thayer showed the men into his living room.

“What can I do for you, Mister…”

“Master Sergeant Jeff Kirkham, U.S. Army, retired. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Jack Vanderlink interrupted the pleasantries. “President Thayer, Mister Kirkham came from the Ross compound to object to the security presence you authorized.”

“Oh,” President Thayer hesitated, “I’m sincerely sorry if our men in the neighborhood disturbed you.” His eyes drifted to Jeff’s handgun.

“No sir. We have hundreds of armed men in the neighborhood,” Jeff exaggerated. “It was the six armed men and the two MRAPs barging through our barricade without permission that disturbed us. We almost opened fire on them. That kind of miscommunication costs lives in a war zone.”

President Thayer looked perplexed. His gaze drifted towards Jack Vanderlink. “What’s an MRAP?”

Jeff and Vanderlink spoke at once, and Jeff trailed off, letting the cop speak. “They’re the police vehicles we used to bring security personnel up to your neighborhood. The streets aren’t safe and we had to use Salt Lake PD armored transports to get the men here safely.”

Jeff could smell the bullshit and he decided to cut it. “President Thayer: fact is, you have two armored personnel carriers and six men parked one hundred meters from where we stand, and they’ve been there for two days. I have them surrounded and I’d rather nobody get hurt. I need to know there’s reasonable command and control over this armed force inside our neighborhood. Not five minutes ago, they were pointing rifles at me.”

The Mormon prophet shot a hard glance at Vanderlink.

“Sir, I thought we might leave the MRAPs here until the shift change tonight,” the cop stammered as the President waved away his explanation.

“Have a seat Master Sergeant Kirkham, Brother Vanderlink. Do you both have a minute to chat?” President Thayer motioned to the sofa and chairs in the living room. Jeff accepted the offer, then remembered something.

“President Thayer, could you please excuse me for a moment?” The church president nodded and Jeff spoke into his radio. “QRF one and three. Remain in position and stand down.”

A chorus of acknowledgements crackled from Jeff’s radio, then Jeff took his seat.

“Tell me about yourself.” President Thayer asked Jeff. It caught him off-guard. This guy might be one of those commanders—the kind he’d been proud to follow.

Jeff told a bit about his family and military service. When he started to run out of things to say, the Mormon president picked up the conversational slack, redirecting Jeff with questions and encouragement until Jeff felt like he had been talking about himself for far too long. Jack Vanderlink sat on the couch, towering straight-backed over the Mormon prophet, looking like the statue of a very uncomfortable man.

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way down the hill to tell your life story to an old man,” President Thayer laughed. “How can I help you do your job? We’ll definitely be moving those armored vehicles out as soon as we’re finished chatting. And I promise they’ll never go through your barricade again without notice and permission.”

Vanderlink squirmed, seemed to realize he was doing it, and stopped.

The Mormon leader continued. “What else can I do for you? How can I contribute to the safety of the neighborhood?”

Jeff hadn’t thought about it, so he said the first thing that came to mind. “We could definitely use more men, and given the chance, we could protect a lot of people with those two MRAPs.”

Vanderlink sat up, his back iron-straight. “Sir. Please keep in mind that those MRAPs are on-loan from the Salt Lake City Police Department.”

President Thayer glanced sideways at Brother Vanderlink. “They loaned them to us? Who authorized us to take them?”

“Well… I did.”

“We can put them to use protecting the whole neighborhood and not just my street, wouldn’t you think? We can return them, if and when the Salt Lake Police Department asks for them back. Fair enough?” President Thayer put the question to both men.

“Yes sir,” Vanderlink answered, shooting daggers out his eyes at Jeff.

“Do we have extra men, Brother Vanderlink?” President Thayer asked.

“No. We barely have enough to keep Temple Square from being looted. Almost everyone on our security detail went home to their families.”

“That is as it should be,” President Thayer nodded. “I’m afraid we don’t have extra men, except for the two that’ve been assigned to my street. I’d be happy to loan them to the effort to protect the whole neighborhood if they both agree. Will that help, along with the armored vehicles?”

“That will help a great deal, President. Thank you.” Diplomacy wasn’t his forté, but Jeff wanted to accomplish as much as possible in this meeting, and he’d never been one to quit while he was ahead. “Sir, what’s the church’s plan for security? You’re the only organization still standing in this state from what I can tell.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we weren't at all prepared to handle such a profound disaster. We had no plan in case of the failure of government. That’s not what the Church does.”

Vanderlink interjected, “We raised a militia army, which I led against criminals attacking the Avenues. We defeated them, and I released most of the militia back to their homes. We have the ability to call up thousands of men to protect ourselves if the need arises.”

Jeff ignored Vanderlink’s claim. “President, when the time is right, our group would like to offer services to arm and train LDS forces. We’re