The Geostorm Series (Book 6): Geostorm [The Pioneers]

by Akart, Bobby

  Then she heard voices.

  “You! On your feet. Now, asshole!”

  Carly heard a thumping sound followed by Levi moaning in pain.

  “Okay, okay,” he managed to reply breathlessly.

  “What do you think you’re doin’ here?” another man asked.

  “It don’t matter,” said the first one. “Cuff him and let’s take him in.”

  “Shouldn’t we frisk him first?” asked a third man.

  “Oh, yeah,” said the first man. “Hands clasped behind your head. Spread ’em!”

  Levi found his breath and his attitude. “Why should I? Who are you people?”

  One of the men quickly replied, “Trespassin’ on federal property and probably with an unauthorized weapon, for starters.”

  “Just shut up, asshole!” screamed the first man, and an audible thud could be heard by Carly. Her blood began to boil as she considered racing down the hill to shoot every last one of them. She caught herself, managing to control her anger. If she fell or was captured, she’d be taken into custody, and they might never be found by their family.

  “You don’t need to beat me!” said Levi, a protest that landed him another punch.

  One of his captors proudly announced, “I’ve got a knife. Nice Bowie style, too. Also, a forty-five.”

  “What’s a country boy like you need a cannon like this for?” asked one of the men. Levi couldn’t respond so the man continued. “Don’t matter. It’s mine now.”

  “He’s zip-cuffed,” said one of the men.

  “Good, he’s a feisty one, but he’ll help pad our numbers. We oughta get double credit for this one.”

  The men shuffled off, half-dragging Levi through the leaves and pine needles. Their voices slowly faded as the steady hum overtook them.

  Chapter 29

  Near Three Point

  Cumberland Mountains

  Harlan County, Kentucky

  “Holy crap! Holy crap! What the hell am I supposed to do now?” Carly’s eyes darted all around, and her head swung back and forth, trying to choose between running several miles back to the Pinnacle Overlook to get help, or tracking those who’d kidnapped Levi. She whispered her decision under her breath, “I’ve gotta follow ’em.”

  They were moving away from her too quickly to track them on a parallel course through the woods. It was growing darker, and she’d likely stumble or break a fallen tree branch, a surefire giveaway that Levi was not alone.

  She took a chance and eased her way toward the bottom of the ridge, having the presence of mind to tie strips of cloth to mark both the downward path she’d taken as well as the entry point to the woods. When the time came, she, and hopefully Levi, would need to find her way back up the ridge.

  Once she hit the flat part of the mountain, she was able to take in the view. Several hundred yards to her east was what could best be described as a tent city, or perhaps a temporary detention center for criminals.

  Dozens of rectangular white tents were lined up in rows. They were completely surrounded by a ten-foot-tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire. At each corner of the fence closest to Carly’s position stood thirty-foot-tall emergency lighting towers. The lights illuminated the interior of the compound as well as the majority of the surrounding area.

  From this distance, Carly was unable to determine whether the fence surrounding the tents was intended to keep people out or lock them in. The way Levi had been treated, she presumed the latter.

  Carly was wearing camouflage pants and a black, long-sleeve tee shirt. She quickly pulled her hair back into a ponytail and secured it with a scrunchie. Then she tucked it into the collar of her shirt.

  She half-jogged, half-ran toward the camp, hugging the edge of the woods in case she had to hide herself from detection. She nervously scanned the perimeter of the compound, looking for patrols like the one that had grabbed Levi.

  The hum grew louder as she approached, and she was immediately able to identify it as a large generator located near the fence corner nearest to her. Several solar panels were set up on wheeled devices resembling large artist’s easels. The wires and much of the apparatus were wrapped in a shiny aluminum material.

  Carly found it odd that the people walking around the tents seemed so sullen. It was if they had no energy or were even zombielike. As she slipped past the generator and moved from tree to tree along the fence, the people barely spoke a word, seemingly oblivious to their surroundings.

  She shrugged it off and focused on the task at hand—finding Levi. She saw a gate ahead, roughly thirty yards from her observation point. The entry was flanked by two simple guard shacks made of plywood and two-by-fours. Two soldiers milled about the gate, holding rifles similar to Levi’s AR-10. Three other men were just inside the gate, having a loud, animated discussion with a small wiry man wearing khakis and a white polo shirt.

  “Why didn’t you search the woods, too?” he demanded, standing toe-to-toe with the largest of the three.

  “Boss, I told ya. He was alone, probably spying on us. He came rollin’ down the hill, and we snagged him. Does it really matter where he came from? He’s a number.”

  Carly shook her head and furrowed her brow. Why do they keep saying that?

  She couldn’t see Levi, so she dared to get closer. After checking outside the fences, she scanned the inside for roving patrols but didn’t observe any. There were still just a few stragglers wandering around, who never looked up from the ends of their feet.

  “Listen, don’t tell me how to do my job.” The superior was stern in his rebuke. “We’ve got a good thing goin’ on here.”

  “He’s a bit of a fighter,” said the largest of the three men. “Do you want us to start him on the Oxy?”

  Carly stopped in her tracks as her skin bristled. That explained the semi-stupor she’d observed in the people wandering around the tents. This was some kind of prison or detention center, and the men running it were keeping the people doped up on opioids like oxycodone.

  “But why?” she asked in a barely audible whisper.

  The short man in civilian clothing replied to his subordinate, “No, not yet. Put him in the lockup but, you know, give him the usual humbling routine. Strip him, beat him if you have to, and spray him for lice and bugs.”

  “Cold water?” asked one of the men. The rest laughed, lightening up the moment. For them, anyway.

  “Is there any other kind?” asked the civilian. “Let me know when he’s ready to talk. I wanna know if he’s part of a larger group and what kind of supplies they might have. We’re in this for the long haul, and I plan on taking what we can take from stragglers like this guy, as well as whatever those FEMA idiots are willing to drop off in their weekly deliveries.”

  “Okay, boss. We’re on it. Pick him up, boys. He’ll wake up naked, clean, and shivering his ass off.”

  The loud laughter carried across the open space between Carly and the front gate. She fought back tears as a feeling of helplessness came over her. She knew she was outmanned and would only make matters worse by taking on these thugs by herself. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to leave Levi alone with them.

  After several minutes in which she cried and then gathered her wits, Carly turned to return to the trail. Just as she reached the first ribbon marking the trail up the ridge, she heard a man’s bloodcurdling scream. She’d never heard Levi make such a sound, but in her heart, she feared it was him.

  Chapter 30

  The Hensley Settlement at Shillalah Creek

  Cumberland Mountains

  Southeast Kentucky

  “Let’s go see,” whispered Chapman as he allowed himself a smile after a tense thirty minutes of surveillance. They walked around the spacious opening, staying behind the protective covering of fallen trees and underbrush to avoid detection. After they’d completely circled the clearing, he felt they were ready to explore further.

  He led the way, with Isabella close behind. With their weapons raised, they jogged ac
ross the field toward what appeared to be the main entrance. Seconds later, they stood face-to-face with a placard that read The Hensley Settlement.

  In 1845, the governor of Kentucky deeded five hundred acres on top of Brush Mountain to two brothers, who then leased it to other families for livestock grazing. They cleared some of the land, and later, in 1903, it was sold to Barton Hensley and his extended family. Over the next ten years, they created a settlement complete with a schoolhouse, a blacksmith shop, and two hog farms.

  The land was perfectly flat and ideally suited for farming. Along the southern side of the clearing ran Shillalah Creek, a mountaintop stream that ran along the ridgeline of bordering Virginia before it meandered down the mountains to the newly formed river to the north of the Hensley Settlement. Shillalah Creek was known for having an abundance of clear water bass fish.

  “This is amazing,” observed Isabella, who wandered away from the sign that gave visitors a brief history of the settlement. “Plus, it is abandoned.”

  Chapman joined her side as the two of them gazed across the tall grasses divided by split-rail fencing into sixteen individual plots of land. “It was restored by the National Park Service about sixty years ago. It seems to be well maintained for visitors and school tours.”

  Isabella looked toward the setting sun. “I want to see all these cabins and buildings, but we do not have much time.”

  Chapman grimaced and nodded. “Let’s take a little time to walk quickly through the largest of the buildings.”

  Their first stop was the blacksmith shop and carpentry shed. The building was barely six feet tall with a single opening. Made from hand-hewn chestnut logs and planed oak boards, the two rooms were separated by a small stone fireplace used by the blacksmith to heat up the iron.

  A single anvil sat on top of stacked rocks in the center. Throughout the small structure, primitive mattocks, hammers, and sharpening tools that were used by the blacksmiths as late as the 1940s were on display. In the carpentry room, hand tools used to build the log cabins and their furnishings were also proudly hung on walls or inside display cases.

  They made their way down a hill toward the first hog and sheep farm. This farm contained several buildings in addition to a four-room home. There was a two-story barn complete with a hayloft and horse stalls. A building used to butcher the hogs and another nearby to shear the wool off the sheep had been restored to their original condition. There were also several rows of bee gums, hollowed-out logs used to maintain honeybees, which produced forty or fifty pounds of honey per log.

  “Chapman!” Isabella exclaimed, drawing him out of the butcher’s building in a rush.

  “Are you okay?” he asked immediately. She had wandered a couple of hundred yards away from him. She turned to wave as she continued down the hill to a stand of trees.

  “Apples! Lots of apples!”

  Chapman couldn’t contain his enthusiasm. He raced down the hill after her, shouldering his rifle as he went. The two met at the bottom of the hill next to a dozen apple trees of several differing varieties. Most of the apples had dropped although some were still ripe for the picking. The tall grasses surrounding the trees showed evidence of wild animals making a bed to sleep.

  “My mother is going to love this. And look, they even have old-school apple holes.”

  Chapman raised the lid of a rectangular box protruding out of the ground. Apple holes were used by early settlers to store the delicious fruit underground in a cooler environment. A box was built and a bed of hay provided a protective shielding from bruising. After closing the lid, they’d cover it with hay to keep the picked apples fresh until needed.

  “Mon ami, I have seen enough. This is home. I can feel it.”

  Chapman gave his love a kiss on the cheek. “I do too. We need to go. Let’s mark the trail with more ribbons on the way back. Tomorrow, we’ll bring everyone down to see for themselves.”

  Suddenly, movement caught Chapman’s peripheral vision. He immediately grabbed Isabella’s arm and pulled her down to her knees in the tall grasses beside him. To their west, directly into the bright, setting sun, there was visible movement of something emerging from the tree line.

  They hid below a knoll and used the fully mature apple trees as cover. One after another, they ran from tree to tree until they were barely a hundred yards from the farmhouse. Just beyond was the barn and the protection of the forest.

  Because they were unable to see who had entered the Hensley Settlement, Chapman felt comfortable in running across the hundred-yard field unseen. He kept his body between Isabella and the new arrivals just in case they came over the knoll and surprised them.

  They raced across the field, Chapman running sideways with his rifle pointed toward the spot where the movement was last seen. They hurdled the three-foot-tall split-rail fence and made their way to the front of the house; then Isabella began to laugh.

  Chapman was surprised by her laughing and tried to shush her to be quiet. Instead, she stopped and walked back into the open, pointing toward the field on the west end of the settlement.

  Chapman joined her, still nervously swinging his rifle barrel from side to side, just in case. Then he too joined in the laughter.

  “Really?” he asked jokingly as he shouldered the weapon.

  “Oui, Monsieur Daniel Boone Junior, our new settlement has been invaded by Bambi and friends,” she began mockingly. Suddenly, a rabbit sprang out of the tall grasses and raced in a zigzagged pattern across the field toward the woods. “He is joined by his friend Thumper.”

  “Ha! Ha! Very funny. I couldn’t see them ’cause of the sun.”

  Isabella folded her arms and admired the scene as two does and their offspring moseyed over to the apple orchard for supper. “I have been to Disneyland Paris many times. For my tenth birthday, my father let us stay at the Sequoia Lodge. I met the Bambi character.”

  Isabella began to cry as she reminisced about the time with her parents. This had happened more frequently of late, prompting Chapman to be particularly attentive to her emotions. He held her while she let her tears pour out. She described some of their day vacations to Disneyland, events that were few and far between because of her parents’ busy schedules.

  “Sometimes, I wish my family lived a simpler life so we could enjoy each other. Now I regret not spending more time with them as an adult.”

  Chapman nodded as he thought about the loss of his father. He and Kristi were both driven people, but it had resulted in lost time with Squire. Then he smiled.

  “Do you see this place? This represents a simpler time when families grew up together. They didn’t go off to college or pursue careers. They worked the farms. Or raised hogs. Then they married their neighbor and had children of their own. As long as they had a roof over their heads and were fed, they were happy.”

  Isabella wrapped her arm through Chapman’s and pulled their bodies close together. “I will be happy here, too.”

  Chapter 31

  Pinnacle Overlook

  Cumberland Mountains

  Southeast Kentucky

  Sometimes, as bad as things were, good news was the best medicine. The mood was nothing short of euphoric as the couples began to return to their camp at the Pinnacle Overlook. Sarah, the kids, and Brooke were all in good moods after having a productive day. They’d scoured the woods to recover nearly all the supplies that had been scattered about by the massive windstorm. Sarah had managed to renovate the overturned Scooby van and trailer so that both could be used as a place to sleep if necessary. Brooke had had a grand time patrolling the perimeter, swinging from tree to tree, until she had her first encounter with a skunk. Rather than sound the alarm, the curious chimp almost came too close to the skunk’s noxious spray, barely avoiding the rotten-egg smell invading her fur.

  Kristi and Tommy were the first to arrive from the day’s explorations. They excitedly described the sand cave they’d discovered as well as a creek filled with bass. They’d followed the trickling creek, w
hich emerged from a seam in the limestone outcropping. The water grew in volume and eventually splashed downward into a pond below.

  The twenty-foot waterfall provided an excellent opportunity for the two to take a swim in the clean, fresh mountain water before taking some time to follow the stream for a quarter mile or so. Unbeknownst to them, they’d stumbled upon Shillalah Creek, which wound its way along the ridgeline just south of the Hensley Settlement.

  Well after dark, Chapman and Isabella arrived next. They were immediately chastised by Sarah.

  As they announced their return and joined the others around the fire, Sarah stood and reached for a thin tree branch. She shook it at her son and verbally let him have it. “You’re not too old to get the switch, young man!”

  The group laughed except for Chapman. He begged for mercy. “C’mon, Mom. Wait’ll I tell you about our day.”

  “That’s exactly the kind of tone you’d take with me as a teenager. Do you think mothers forget these things?”

  “No, I didn’t mean—”

  “Oh, oh, oh. Yes, you did! You’d quickly come up with some grand story about finding this or seeing that. I’m pretty sure your father taught you the tricks of the male trade. Unfortunately, I’d heard it all before.”

  “But—” he began to argue, to no avail.

  “No buts, mister, except this switch across yours unless you have a darn good reason for making me worry.”

  “It is my fault,” began Isabella. The cavalry was coming to the rescue. Her innocent French accent softened Sarah every time. “I wanted to see the cabins and the deer and the rabbit and the apple trees.” She allowed herself a wry smile. She’d learned to manipulate her parents as a little girl and never forgot some of her best moves.

  Sarah slowly lowered the switch that continued to threaten her son’s backside, eventually tossing it on the fire. “Wait. Did you say apple trees?”