Timberline

by T J Reeder

  Gunny was something else! That old boy never lost anything he learned in the Corps. I never saw any movement nor anything else, but at the right time the barn just went up like a rocket and the rats were pouring out of it; some with their hair burning, all were screaming and yelling which brought out the rest from the house and other outbuildings.

  I won’t say it was pretty, nor was it fun. But it was a job that had to be done and when Gunny opened the ball with the first shot into the big cluster, the doors of hell slammed open.

  Sandy lay beside me squeezing off her rounds as fast as the red dot found a target. I was looking for anybody who looked like he might be in charge or maybe was trying to rally them.

  Most weren’t even armed and were too drunk to stand. No, it wasn’t pretty nor was it fun. It was personal though- these bastards had killed and raped long enough.

  It was pretty much over within only a few minutes. A few got some vehicles going and were able to roll right into the blocking force Gunny had placed just for that event. It was like shooting fish in a barrel with the exception that fish had some good points, these trash… none.

  There are some, even after everything mankind has done since the event, who would say these people should have been arrested and tried and counseled then eventually allowed to return to society as changed and rehabilitated shining examples of modern liberalism. Well they were judged and found wanting. And justice was served. End of that story.

  We entered the ranch complex well aware there had to be some others who were still inside when the shooting started and now were even more dangerous than before. Even the lowly rat will fight to the death when cornered. I called Gunny over and told him to stand down while we thought it over.

  In the end we decided to locate any prisoners before digging the raiders out. That took about five minutes when one of the search teams found a locked tack room in the barn. After ripping the lock off and opening the door we were greeted by a sight that washed away any feeling of regret we may have had over the way we wiped these assholes out.

  In the tack room prison we found three women and five girls- all naked and huddled together. All had been beaten and raped, even the youngest girl who was no more than ten years old. The women with us took over after pushing us men out of the barn. Sandy joined me several minutes later. She was beyond mad, beyond rage. She was just cold- freezing cold.

  She looked at me and said, “Let’s find the ones hiding and send them to hell”. So we started the search one building at a time. And we found trouble right away.

  The first building was one of the bunk houses. We were approaching it when we were fired on with two of our people dropping while the rest dove for cover.

  How stupid of us to just walk right into it. We laid down a lot of suppression fire while our former paramedic crew dragged the two behind cover.

  I sent Sandy to the barn to check on something, and within minutes she was back with the information. I called Gunny over and told him what we found out from the former prisoners. The ones in the tack room were the only survivors of twelve women and girls taken in raids.

  Gunny took it from there. In no time the bunkhouse was in flames and within minutes the door flew open and the leader ran out with his hands in the air.

  One shot was heard and the leader was dead. We had no means to deal with prisoners. Next was the main ranch house, and it too went up in flames but nobody came out. It was very unpleasant having to burn somebody’s home and dreams but we weren’t going to lose any more people digging these bastards out.

  After the house was engulfed we heard a shot from inside and figured somebody inside decided to end it before burning. Can’t say I blamed them. Last thing we did was pile the trash in the barn and burned it, too.

  This was a nasty business, and I for one wanted it over and done with. It was a crappy way to make a living. But it was there to be done and we did it. Time to go home.

  Before we rolled away, we stripped all the weapons from the dead raiders and looked over their vehicles for ones we could use. We found several we could use and piled the weapons inside them and rolled.

  After we got back to Timberline, the ladies took over with the rescued women and girls. Sandy stayed to help get them settled. I met with the committee members to fill in any blanks Jim might miss. We met up in the mess hall, had dinner and headed home to get some much needed rest.

  Speaking for myself I’m damn sick and tired of having to kill these worthless bastards, but what can a person do? Either we let them run roughshod over the weak and defenseless or we deal with them.

  I’ve spent most of my life packing a gun. Some time as part of my uniform. Other times as an honest member of society enjoying the rights as written in the Bill of Rights.

  But I’d had to use a gun way more than I want to and I was getting tired of it. Yet I saw no way to avoid it and live with myself. I guess it is what it is.

  We were awake shortly after first light and headed to the communal showers at the school gym, since it was easier to use one place to clean up then having everybody burning up propane in dozens of houses.

  After cleaning up and having breakfast, we set about checking in with Jim, who had a big smile on his face- the kind of smile that makes you say, “OK dude, what did you do now?”

  He reached into his pack and brought out a box wrapped in brown paper and said, “Sandy, we all agreed this was the right thing to do and we feel you’ve earned it.” She looked at me, and I shrugged since I had no idea what was going on. She took the package and unwrapped it.

  Inside was a wooden presentation case, which when opened showed a beautiful mint condition Colt Gold Cup 45 ACP. It appeared unfired and after she removed it from the box I saw it was a Series 70, which made it about her age. She was just dumbstruck. She kept looking at the gun, then Jim and me, then back at the gun.

  Then a huge smile broke out and she hugged Jim, then me and started babbling about how badly she had wanted a 1911- any 1911, but this was awesome! I made a questioning look at Jim, who said it was found in a pack left in one of the raider vehicles, which meant of course that it was stolen or at least likely.

  William, who was standing off to the side, held out a paper bag which turned out to have an almost-new Jackass Shoulder holster setup that one of the town folks had for a gun he sold without the rig. It placed the gun under her left arm, butt forward with two loaded magazines under the right arm. She immediately took off her coat and started trying to get into the rig, and with some help from me she was soon all geared up like some Miami Vice wannabe.

  She then realized all her training for drawing her weapon had been with it on her right side. But I assured her she could get very good with this setup.

  I did warn her that she would need to avoid getting into the habit of raising her shoulder to compensate for the weight, as it would start hurting her shoulder joint. I have been there and done that.

  I assured her that after a few days she would forget it was there and how much faster it was if she were sitting down. After thanking Jim and William she left to look in on the females we had rescued.

  I sat in with Jim and the committee and offered a list of things I felt needed doing. We needed to get the fencing work going around the main part of town. Also, I asked if any heavy equipment was running that could start cutting a vehicle trench around the area outside the fencing as this would stop anybody from ramming thru the fence.

  I also drew a plan for stringing tanglefoot wire inside the fence to slow down infiltrators. All these ideas were approved and work would start right away.

  The next suggestion was to start prepping the open areas for gardens come spring. And that we should make trips to the closer towns to make contact with people there.

  We had been really lucky with the two run-ins with the raiders but I knew a group with military training or at least leadership with training would be much harder to deal with.

  I also recommended some fighting bunkers between the hou
ses and accessible from the houses. All in all, it was a lot of work but these people were set up well and with some pre-planning they were going to be just fine.

  I said Sandy and I, along with six townies and two trucks would do a real scout of the entire area for several miles around Timberline. This was something that really needed to be done, plus it was a chance to show the colors so to speak. And hopefully make contact with others of like mind.

  We spent the next two days getting gear ready for the extended patrol, since we would be staying out for several days. On the morning we left it started snowing- not a lot but it was a reminder that it was gonna get cold damn soon.

  We headed out to the west on a narrow paved county road that went where we wanted to go. We followed it for miles. We found plenty of places that had been hit by the raiders or rather “some” raiders and fresh graves meaning somebody had survived the raid or others had come as we were doing. It was always an empty country out here but now it was really empty. Nothing was stirring at all; even the critters seemed to be laying low which usually means a storm is coming.

  We spotted smoke ahead in the early afternoon and slowed our approach to look it over. About a half mile away we saw a ranch house, outbuildings, and a lot of people moving around going about chores.

  We hoisted the colors on a pole and drove slowly, honking the horns. The people just disappeared from sight, pre-planned fighting positions if I wasn’t mistaken.

  We eased up to the gate. Sandy and I walked to it and waited for somebody to come out. After a bit somebody did; they drove out in a 1 ton truck that had been armored. It was a sight- somebody did some good work! It was painted flat OD Green and had a tall antenna mounted on the front bumper. Now I was thinking about something that I had spaced out.

  After looking us over, the passenger door opened. A lady got out slowly and stood by the door. She asked what we wanted, so I told her who we were, where we came from, and what we were doing.

  I heard somebody in the truck talking and the static sound of somebody answering over a radio. The woman asked who was in charge of our group, so I said I was. She said I and one other could come in to meet with their leaders, but the rest were to back off about a quarter mile and wait.

  Sounded reasonable to me, so I motioned the trucks back. I eased the rifle off my shoulder and set it on the ground. There were more radio sounds, and the woman said, “Bring your weapons.” This couldn’t go too bad, could it?

  Well yes it could, as it had in the past. But this time it didn’t.

  At the ranch house, we met the head of the ranch household- a very sweet 80 year old woman who looked like everybody’s granny. At first I thought we were getting played, but no she really was the “Boss.”

  Her name was Annie Davis, but was called Granny by all of them. And there was a lot of them. The ranch had been in her family since 1880 and all her ancestors were buried here as well as the outlaws and Indians who had tried to take the place.

  Annie’s husband had died five years earlier, but her four sons and three daughters were all here, as well their husbands and wives and so many grandkids I never got a head count.

  In many ways it reminded me of folks back in the mountains from West Virginia. Big close-knit family all working together doing what they always had; living, working, surviving. This place was and is a tough nut and always had been. The big boot hill behind the house proved that as did the family plot closer to the house.

  We sat down to a good meal and fresh ground coffee. I was liking this place. One thing they could do was eat! Damn near as dangerous as the chow hall in the Corps.

  After stuffing ourselves and fresh cups of great coffee were poured, we got down to it. Annie said they had been probed by the bad bunch and made four additions to the boot hill. They hadn’t seen any more of them, but had fed some folks moving thru the area who had seen the results of their handiwork. It wasn’t a pretty story. I told them the ending of that story and all were very happy to hear that threat was gone.

  After I told my story and Sandy told hers we were all quiet. Then Annie asked what they could do for us. I said nothing really; that we were just doing a recon of the area. But that an accord between them and Timberline would be great. After thanking Annie and her family we returned to our people and rolled out to cover more miles before night. We saw nothing that attracted our attention.

  An hour before dark we found a big barn sitting alone in a hay field. We turned into it and scouted the area around it, seeing nothing. Inside was awesome! Nice soft hay, dry and out of the wind. What more could we ask for? We pulled the trucks inside and everybody found their place to bed down.

  Sandy took care of us while me and two of the others went out and scouted on foot. We saw nothing at all that caught our attention, but we would still have two people on watch thru the night. It was a quiet night. We all got plenty of sleep and had a good breakfast with hot coffee and were ready to roll.

  We had decided on roughly a circle extending out about twenty miles more or less as the roads allowed. We passed close to a few small towns that seemed to be as forted up as we were, but we just by-passed them.

  What we didn’t see was any sign of raiders, so we figured the ones we wiped out were it for this area. When we hit the freeway we decided to head back and see if we could score on any more freight trucks. And we did find some. One was a Wal-Mart truck loaded with the usual Made in China crap, but it also had some good stuff so we made note of it and pushed on.

  We found a car hauler sitting dead in the water, still loaded with new Dodge trucks which tripped my brain trigger, and I made a note of it also.

  Our next find was sweet- it was a small delivery truck for a major candy company that still delivered their own products, and it was full!

  Sandy and the other women in the group each grabbed a box of chocolates and went back to the trucks and sat on the tail gate and moaned for ten minutes. We men would have laughed, but we had our mouths full too. We decided since it was too much to haul in our trucks we would just tow the damn truck, since we just knew somebody else would find it.

  We couldn’t move fast, but we did move and made a beeline for home. We arrived just before dark a day early but were greeted like heroes when the town folks saw that candy truck!

  The kids were screaming like banshees… whatever that is. I left the crowd to the candy, found Jim and went into a huddle right then and there. I explained what I had in mind and he said he thought we might be able to work it out. Now I was pumped!

  After a night of cuddling in ‘our’ house I woke up with my plan bouncing like a rubber ball in my head. So I explained it to Sandy, who got both excited and worried. Worried that it would change what we have and happy that it was good for me.

  My Plan? Go get the trailer full of new trucks! I had seen they were all just like mine abandoned in Montana- one ton 4x4 Dodge Cummings diesels. If we could get them running somehow, come spring Sandy and I would be on the road in style. Jim believed that with the expertise of the local mechanics that it might be possible.

  So this morning we will head out with the tractor we have, and bring the trailer home. If it works, the town will have a fleet of great vehicles for their use.

  I just wanted one running for us! Sandy stopped me at the door and said, “John? I’m not leaving the riding stock!” Well that pulled me right up tight! Crap! How had I forgotten Buck and the rest of the stock? I just stood for a moment and then said, “We ain’t!”

  “There are plenty of horse haulers big enough for them! If you don’t mind leaving the pack horse since we really don’t need him.” She agreed that we didn’t so that was settled. Off we went to see if we could even get the first part of the plan into action.

  I won’t bore yawl with the details of the day. Suffice to say we got it done and now we just need to get them off the car hauler and into the bus shop.

  I told Sandy to pick out her choice, so she looked them over and said, “Well if this works, let’s go
for the gold!” and picked out the highest priced one of the bunch! Leather seats, shiny wheels and midnight Black! I told her it looked like a cowboy pimp truck which made all the guys laugh, then she started laughing too. We stepped back and let the folks who knew what they were doing get to doing.

  Of course with no power, it was a roughshod operation but they got it done and rolled The Cowboy Pimpmobile into the garage. Next would be to test parts to see what was dead.

  By the next day the mechanics had the mess figured out and a list of parts we would need to find, but also a place to start looking. It wasn’t going to be easy but if we wanted the trucks running it entailed a trip to Rexburg- the nearest place where we might find a Dodge dealership.

  We decided to take the best two trucks we had running and one of the school buses with extra fuel. We figured to make it OK, and hopefully without trouble.

  We spent two days getting everything ready and with two people in each pickup and seven in the bus we were pretty well loaded for bear. We left early the next day and planned to be in Rexburg by noon, since it was a short drive in normal times.