by Cliff Deane
These statistics would not be known to The People living in the Southwestern portion of the former United States of America as the population was relatively widespread, and most left the arid region early on. Those few who survived the trek to “somewhere” said, “There was no food or running water, so we had to leave.”
The American military had purchased many trucks and cars that because of budget restraints were not sufficiently shielded against the effects of an EMP. Still, it was not equipment malfunction that caused the dismantling of the military forces, no, it was food. With the loss of the hundreds of thousands of tons of food needed each day to feed the troops, disbanding occurred on 6 April, only one week after “The Event.”
The government, having no military with which to initiate Martial Law disappeared into prepared underground facilities to ride out the disaster. Their plan was to return after one year and attempt to pick up the pieces.
A new absolute darkness and seeming total silence befell the world; breaking the restraints of the demons and evildoers among us. Anarchy would be the new law of the land.
*
April 5th,
Cottonwood City Jail
Near Cottonwood, AZ
Daniel sat stoically on the floor of his cell. He had begun to sing his death song after the jailer had informed him that the town was being abandoned, and so was he.
The Jailer released the other Prisoners in the jail, but Daniel Two-Dogs was left to rot.
On March 29th, a CME crashed the world’s electric grid. Chief Daniel organized the young men on the Reservation (Rez) to quickly take control of the food and fuel resources his small band of Chiricahua Apaches could hold.
Chief Daniel led a mission to annex a Walmart store that unfortunately had six stranded Department of Public Safety Officers (State Police) who successfully repulsed the attack and captured Chief Daniel.
The Rez Tribal Police (RTP) Force was significantly reduced in number when Officers failed to show up for work due to transportation failures, and familial responsibilities.
Those remaining Apache RTP Officers quickly joined Chief Daniel’s Force, and, like the rest of the Chief’s band took to horseback.
In the late afternoon of April 5th Chief Daniel’s followers arrived at the jail. The band was armed and prepared for battle, but instead, found only their leader locked in a lonely cell. The keys were quickly recovered, and Chief Daniel was freed.
The Chief declared the Apache Reservation and all lands once owned by the Apache-Navajo Tribes to be solely for Native American Tribes.
That evening a meeting was scheduled for all Native Americans in the Central Highlands of Arizona. It was to be held in the main meeting hall of a casino owned by the Native Americans. The casino was called Cliff’s Castle.
Word had already begun to spread, and Indian ranchers readily joined Chief Daniel’s force, providing horses, and even some old pickup trucks which still ran.
Daniel’s grandfather stood before approximately one hundred and fifty men who represented the predominance of the local tribes, from the Apache, Navajo, and Hopi. He told his audience of his visions, which had been shared across the Rez for many years.
Speaking in English, the Medicine Man thanked the Great Spirit for allowing “The People” a second chance to honor the Earth and to bring it back into balance. He said, “My friends, I speak to you in English tonight that we might all understand what is said.
As all of you know, I have had many visions of this day and have asked you to prepare; sadly most have not done so. This failure will lead to many hardships and unnecessary deaths among The People. This, also have I seen. Our numbers are small and will grow smaller before we are again able to spread across the lands of our forefathers, but that day shall come.
The White Man’s world is now in massive decline. His numbers also shrink. The White Man will leave our lands as they have grown far too dependent upon a constant flow of trucks bringing the necessities for their existence. Those Whites who wish to stay will not be allowed to do so. These lands are ours, and on this day, we begin to take them back.
But, in a vision, I was made aware that there are a few Whites that knew of this coming renewal of the Earth. These Whites are to be spared, unless they make war upon us, for the Great Spirit’s has shared this vision with them. If they can survive on their prepper lands, then we shall live in peace with them. We will soon contact these Prepper tribes and make peace. I urge you to hold no anger or bitterness with this class of White men, for we must remember that the Great Spirit has blessed them with His visions. From this moment forward, if this Prepper tribe wishes it to be so, they shall now, and forever, be a part of The People.
This, I say to you, and this, you must embrace.
Those in attendance were utterly silent at this revelation of the Great Medicine Man, Harlyn Geronimo, for the Great Spirit had chosen him to advise their new Chief, Daniel Two-Dogs. So, it was pronounced, so it would be done.
Harlyn Geronimo continued, “Though our history with the White’s has been a bitter experience, we shall not take revenge upon any of them, or the Black-White men. My visions have shown me that without supplies coming to their stores they will find it impossible to stay among us. We must give them sixty days before we force them out.
I have also seen a vision of our lands once again flourishing with abundant running water from the streams and rivers that have, for so long, been dry. This, I tell you will happen within one year, beginning with the monsoon season which begins in July, as the Great Spirit provides us with a land of plenty for us to manage for Him.
The very first thing we must do in our own homes will be to remove the trash from our villages. We are The People, fill your hearts with pride, and elevate yourselves from squalor, for The People will not live among filth. There will be no more White man money, or electricity; his handouts are tone, and we shall be better for it.
Harlyn Geronimo was spot on with the revelation of this vision, for without the cities draining the water, this life-giving resource once again filled the creeks and rivers.
Now, my friends, I shall introduce my grandson, Chief Daniel Two-Dogs.
There was little applause, and none was expected as the American Indian has always been defined by their stoicism. Chief Daniel did not take offense.
As he walked onstage, that was an audible gasp as they saw how Chief Daniel was dressed. His face was painted for war, but it was his clothing that shocked his audience. He was wearing a brown camouflage uniform, complete with a tactical vest, covering a traditionally beaded war vest, and carrying an AR-15 Assault Rifle. He did not wear the feathered Headdress of a Chief, but what the White soldiers call a “boonie hat.
“My friends, the very first thing I wish to tell you is that we shall no longer be called, Indians, or Native Americans. We are, and always have been, The People. We will, of course, continue to proudly carry our tribal names, but as a united group, we are not Apache, Navajo, or Hopi. We are “The People.”
In our tortured history with the Whites, we fought amongst ourselves as often as we fought the White Invaders. Their technology made them impossible to defeat; this mistake, we will not make again. I say to you, teach your children the old ways and the language of your tribe, but we will speak English when in Tribal Council, or speaking with our friends of other tribes.”
This brought a groan and a murmur of dissent among those present, but in deference to their Chief, they quieted when Daniel raised his hand for silence.
Daniel smiled and told the group that separate languages kept them apart, and since they all spoke English, then it only made sense to speak that language. English is the language not only of the Whites but it is also the language of how things work.
I see you wonder at my dress; I have no intention that we return to loin cloth and spears. We must become a modern nation while retaining the honor and traditions of our ancestors. This, my friends will be a daunting task, but if we are to survive, and maintain
our sovereignty, then we must complete that work.
We will not be raiders terrorizing each other, for we are one, we are The People!”
Those listening applauded this promise of family among all the tribes of The People.
“From the depths of my heart, I would love to tell you that we must immediately return to the old ways, the ways of The People before the White Man invaded our lands. I have high hopes that many will choose this path when our trials and battles with Mexican invaders are but memories.”
Chief Daniel then told of visions from both his Great-grandfather and himself that clearly showed battles with Mexican drug cartels, perhaps even remnants of the Mexican Army.
Beginning tomorrow, I intend to send emissaries to each of the tribes of Arizona, New Mexico, and northern Mexico telling them of our rebirth as a single people, The People. They will be asked to send wise men to Prescott to fully establish a new Confederation of all the tribes.
This path holds many traps, for, while we must establish government and avoid the evil pitfalls which are the brothers of government, we must not lose our focus on the goals of a peaceful nation for all The People.
Now his followers shouted for joy at the prospect of a proud new beginning for, not only the Apache, Navajo, Hopi, but all tribes, to be united in a common goal of victory and success. Intertribal fighting could only lead to destruction.
Following his speech of unity and direction for The People, Daniel met with Tribal Chiefs in attendance and asked them to produce a list of college graduates, bookkeepers, farmers, ranchers, and a hundred other professions.
The Chiefs would maintain their positions and would function as mayors within the body politic. Daniel’s leadership was thusly cemented among the ruling Tribal Council Members.
Tomorrow, April 6th, Chief Daniel Two-Dogs would indeed begin to put his education to work.
Here is a bonus chapter from my buddy Mack Norman’s new book:
Rogues Apocalypse: Rogues Origin
Chapter 1: The Bar
March 13, 2028
Max was disgusted with the world situation, the airport delays, and the lousy waitress. He had a brainstorm and thought; this is the start of my next post-apocalyptic novel. It could be a series. What more could a reader ask for than a man half drunk in a bar waiting on North Korea to nuke the USA and discussing his survival plans with random strangers that later have to band together to survive?
Then he thought, that might be the beer and whiskey talking, and I’d better think it over when I get home.
The Nashville Tavern Bar and Grill at the Nashville International Airport was crowded as were all of the restaurants at the airport due to the weather delays. Max Heard had missed his flight along with a thousand other angry people. The odd thing was that when Max checked the Weather Channel, there were no severe weather issues anywhere in the nation. Max was on his third Yazoo City Hefeweizen and was pissed about the delays.
His cell phone rang, and he saw the caller was his father, “Hi Pop, what’s happening out in Wyoming?”
His Dad talked fast, “Son, you need to get your ass home as fast as possible those damn Koreans are going to nuke us. That EMP blast back in January did more damage than the government told us and I think it also was responsible for knocking out my damned satellite TV channels.”
An exasperated Max stared at the TV, “Dad the North Koreans didn’t nuke your satellite TV stations, but I do believe our government is hiding the extent of the damage from us. My flight was delayed due to weather, but I should still be home tonight. Tell Mom and Angie that I love them and miss them.”
“You’d better make an honest woman out of that girl, or someone else will lasso that hot body and take her pretty butt away from you. What have you been waiting for a sign from God to get engaged and marry her?” his dad said.
“Dad, I care for her, but I just don’t know if she is the one for me. She doesn’t want to stay out west and keeps trying to get me to move to Indiana where her folks live. I’m not leaving Wyoming for her or anyone else. I’ll probably break up with her when I get home. Dad, I need to go. Love you and tell Mom I love her. Skip saying anything to Angie. Goodbye.”
“Bye son, keep your nuts safe and rent a car. At least a car won’t fall out of the air if we get nuked. Oh, by the way, I bought 400 pounds of beans, 600 pounds of rice, 1,000 - 9mm, 1,000 - .556, and 5,000 - .22 LR yesterday,” his Dad said before Max hung up.
“Great Dad. We can survive and kill a bunch of Zombies,” replied Max.
Max was 42, had dark hair, and was athletic. He played golf and tennis at the country club and ran when he had time. He had dated Angie for over two years, and she lived in a town twenty miles away. His busy schedule promoting his books, writing several screenplays based on his books, and writing more books kept him very busy, and he didn’t spend enough time with Angie.
Max lived in a lovely modern ranch house on 200 acres in Wyoming. He wrote science fiction and post-apocalyptic novels and moved to Wyoming to be safe from the hordes of people that would wreak havoc on the world around the large cities. Max wrote about brave men and women who fought and killed bad people but wasn’t brave himself.
His mom and dad moved into a guest house behind the main house a few years back. He had the two bedroom home built especially for them and included a bunker below the house for his dad’s prepping. Max was a prepper as was his dad. Max was rich from his book sales and hired his dad to tend to the ranch and watch over it while he traveled.
He started his work career as an office manager for a mobile home manufacturer below Nashville and advanced to operations manager a year before his first novel skyrocketed to number one on the New York best seller’s list. Max actually worked a couple of months extra so the company could find and train a replacement. He was a nice guy.
Max saw the waitress walking toward him, “Can I get a Jim Beam and Coke. Make that a double shot.”
“Of course sir,” the somewhat dull looking waitress responded.
“Thanks and how soon can I get a table?”
“Sorry sir, but it will be a while. You are next in line but might have to share with other people,” she added.
His phone rang again, and this time it was his girlfriend, Angie on the phone. He dreaded the call because she was pressuring him to marry her and move to where her parents lived.
Max answered as usual, “Hello doll, how are you today?”
“Max, I miss you, and you need to get back to me. Your Dad has scared me half to death with all of this talk about North Korea bombing us,” Angie said.
Max was a bit relieved that she didn’t hit him up about when they were getting married, so he tried to keep on the North Korea topic, “Doll, you had better listen to my dad and stock up on some food and water. Make sure you have your pistol with you when you go away from home.”
“Don’t worry about me. Your mom made me stay at your house until this crisis is over. I’ve moved all of my clothes and stuff into your room. My cat loves the ranch, and your dad stored my furniture in your barn,” Angie rambled on until Max caught the moved furniture part.
“What do you mean moved furniture?”
“Why silly man, we are practically married, and I am now living with you. I must say that I will need to redecorate the…”
Max made a crackling sound between words, “Doll …I… you,” and hung the phone up.
He was boiling mad at his mom and dad for allowing her to move in his house; he would kick her ass out as soon as he got back in town. Well, then he thought maybe he’d wait a couple of days later after he got back in town.
Max sat at the bar fuming about his girlfriend moving in with him until a table came open. He saw one of the TV’s was on Fox News and the talking head droned on about that idiot over in North Korea, and some Iranian Prime Minister had swapped missile technology for nuclear bomb parts. He went on to say this could be very bad for the world. Max was the only one in the bar watching the Fox station, an
d he actually took notes on what the news person said.
“Hey, bub, what is that idiot saying that is so important? The Sports Illustrated Swim Suit girls look much more interesting on the other TVs.”
“Sorry, what did you say?” Max looked at the man.
“I was just wondering why you are so interested in what is going on in North Korea,” replied the man sitting next to Max.
“I write science fiction books and this stuff is just the way many of my post-apocalyptic novels begin. Sorry, I’m Max Heard,” Max replied.
“I’m Greg Hines, and I’m a logistics expert. I read some science fiction but mainly read action and adventure books. I got into prepping a few months back so I probably should be reading your books,” said Greg.
“I’ve been a prepper for ten years and will be glad to give you some tips. I live out west in Wyoming in a little town called Cody. I‘m trying to get back home to my dog and my girlfriend, but the supposed weather delay is screwing up everything.” Max replied.
“So I’m not the only one who loves their dog more than their girlfriend. Mine just told me that I have to stop traveling so much or she is going to leave me. Hell, I’m a consultant, and I travel 60 percent of the time,” said Greg.
“My dogs never cause me any trouble and always love me when I get home. My girlfriend is just too high maintenance. She is a great woman, but she is all about herself and her little circle of friends and wants me to move to Indiana where her parents live. I love her but can’t stand her parents or her friends. They are a bunch of whiny liberal snowflakes. I write fairly conservative novels, and they make fun of my beliefs,” replied Max.