by G.R. Carter
Chapter Fourteen
Shelby County
Two Months after the Great Reset
Phil Hamilton inspected an odd collection of old semis and rock trucks, as well as several grain trucks recruited from local farmers that had been assembled in the Shelby County highway maintenance yard. So far, about twenty trucks deemed road-worthy enough to make the 240-mile round-trip to the river port at Sweet Water were being fueled up by tank wagons. A group of wagons with the best tires were being pulled behind the trucks to provide refills along the way. The familiar smell of burning soy oil hung in the air like a blanket. Phil was used to it, but that didn’t mean it smelled good. Ever since the Wizards perfected the process for converting the old Greenstem ethanol plant into their own soy diesel refinery, everyone in the county learned to live the distinct and unpleasant smell. Not quite rotten, not quite burning, but very pungent either way, Phil thought.
No one complained, at least not out loud. Unlike most of the rest of the world, Shelby County still had electricity, although it was still very limited. Fuel to power tractors meant they were able to eat and that was very much unlike the rest of the world right now. So even though the smell clung to everything they did, survivors knew that the odor was all that stood between them and starvation.
“Clark, do you really think you’ll be able to find this port to secure more materials for the concrete plant?” Phil asked as the Sheriff finished topping off the tank on a heavy dump truck.
“I believe so. I wish Mike could go with us. He’s been there a hundred times. But he’s too important running that concrete plant to risk getting hurt. Though he did loan me one of his guys that has been to the plant… once.” He laughed and patted his sidearm. “I’m just hoping I don’t have to use this.”
“Me too. If I have to explain to Maryanne that you got yourself hurt over a load of concrete, she’ll blame me,” Phil said. Maryanne was the Sheriff’s wife and constant companion of over twenty years. As well liked as her husband, Maryanne organized the campaign years ago that got him elected to the county’s top law enforcement position.
Olsen’s mood turned serious again. “Listen, Phil. I need you to understand that we might not make it back from this. At least, not all of us. I’m willing to take the chance because I believe your fortified farm plans can be the difference between life and death for our people. I’ve been living with that balance all my life. But let’s not kid ourselves. We now know firsthand there are bad guys out there. I don’t think they’ll bother a convoy our size, but desperate people do desperate things.”
Phil stopped him. “Clark, let’s hold the legend of Sheriff Olsen until you get back. I don’t want you doing anything you think is too dangerous. We can figure out a different way that doesn’t require you going on a suicide mission.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Phil. I don’t want to be a hero. And it is absurd to think about fighting for something we would normally take for granted. I mean, really…the Battle of Concrete! Crazy! But we have to be realistic about the world we’re in. If I don’t make it back, you have to be ready to lead the defenses.”
“Why me, Clark? I’m not a police officer. And I sure never served in the military. I’m not even that good with my shotgun. I’ve never even fired the AR 15 you don’t know I have,” Phil challenged.
“I’m going to revoke your gun license, you domestic terrorist!” the Sheriff chuckled. The laughter faded as he considered what to say next.
“I’m serious, Phil, the thing you have is the ability to see the whole field. I know you thought I lost my mind that first day when we went to get supplies for the refinery. But now you’ve got a better handle on this than even I do. I would have never thought of creating the biofuel refinery or the fortified farms. Even if I suggested using the schools and hospital as shelters for our people, you’re the one who figured out the system,” he said.
Phil held up a hand, “That was Anna’s doing, but I get your point.”
“Good, then it’s settled,” Olsen continued. “I feel a lot better about it now.”
Phil changed the subject, “How many men do you have gathered?”
“I’ve got twenty trucks and twenty-four men right now. I was hoping for more trucks, but at least this way several of us will be able to ride shotgun,” Olsen explained.
He continued, “Each man will have a weapon, and I’ve got four deputies who have battle rifle training. They know how to handle ARs, so even if someone takes a run at us, hopefully we’ll be able to change their mind quick.”
Phil nodded. “I don’t envy you having to lead men into danger, Clark. I’ll stick with battling old equipment that hasn’t been used in years. Good luck, and I’ll see you before you leave.”
Clark nodded and headed back. Leading men into battle wasn’t something I’d planned on, he admitted to himself. He just wanted to pick up some concrete.