Killswitch Chronicles- The Complete Anthology

by G. R. Carter

  This was the third farm he’d been too late to help. Desperate searches for missing children cost him valuable time trying to help the rest of the farms work together to build up their defenses. Time he would have gladly spent if he had found so much as a clue as to their whereabouts.

  What can we do? Olsen thought. How am I going to catch these guys popping up from nowhere when I have just a handful of deputies to track them down?

  He wasn’t too big a man to admit he’d been wrong. About Phil Hamilton and his co-op, about trusting the government to come and help…

  Tears turned to rage for Olsen now. This is how anarchy starts. And the sheriff of this little backwater county in the middle of flyover country wasn’t going to let it happen.

  Urbana

  The Fifth Day

  “My fellow Americans, I’d like to have your attention,” Colonel Walsh announced from the top of the courthouse steps as he licked the dust from his lips. It looked like a few hundred of the townspeople had turned up. That left thousands still out in the city somewhere, likely hiding in their homes. No matter, this group would do for his purposes. “Our world has changed. I know that you are all concerned about what has happened to the power grid. I am, too.

  “But more importantly, we are concerned about what is going to happen to our families. The soldiers under my command are committed to protecting each and every one of you. But to do that, we must have complete confidence that they can safely perform their duties and return to their own families each day.

  “Unfortunately, yesterday one of my men was killed due to the actions of a group of people here. People who claimed to be your leaders. These same people were hoarding the food that is the rightful property of the Federal government, meant to feed all of you.

  “They intended to hold that food for their own good, leaving you to fend for yourselves until the power comes back on. Citizens, my last command from our government was an emergency protocol, giving my command authority over security and food distribution.” Colonel Walsh paused to let the crowd digest this information. The look in their eyes told him they were already in despair. The power had been out just a few days, and desperation crept over the city like a poison fog. Nine meals from chaos, indeed.

  “Because both theft from civilians and murder are capitol offenses under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, I have acted on your behalf and charged the following people and sentenced them accordingly.”

  Jude Cochran, the city attorney, began to read off the names. When Walsh explained to him the situation earlier in the day, the bureaucrat immediately realized the direction the wind was blowing. He had a legal document agreeing with the Colonel’s assessment of the situation and the steps he was taking created, signed, and notarized in less than thirty minutes.

  Cochran’s compliance meant that he’d qualified for a job as Walsh’s civilian administrator. The Colonel had neither the time nor the inclination to babysit whiny citizens. Those were tasks and duties he and his men didn’t have time for. Walsh had also decided to bring the provost of the University on board his team immediately after this assembly was over. He would use that woman’s administrative skills and campus infrastructure to handle the details there.

  Walsh scanned the crowd as Cochran read the charges, the names, and the punishment. There was little reaction to the sentence. Just hungry faces waiting for us to save them.

  “Good citizens, let me explain what is going to happen next. We have set up food distribution centers on each side of town. If you follow Route 45 north or south, you will find a center set up right outside of the city. Additionally, if you follow Highway 150 east or west out of town, you will find another center.

  “Each of you will receive three days of rations for each member in your family. I’m sorry, that’s the only way we can do it. Security would be impossible inside of town. I’m afraid that the out-of-towners at the University would try to overrun the distribution center if we put it too close. Does everyone understand?”

  Anxious nods told him he cut through their mental fog. Walsh knew how to play tribe against tribe with the best of them. What the townies didn’t know was that he was prepared to give the same speech in a few hours with the university students. He’d also be setting up a food distribution point right in the middle of the campus. He’d tolerate the townies, some would be useful. But the university students were the real prize; a recruiting base of thousands of eighteen to twenty-three-year-old men and women. Lots of deprogramming would have to be done with these kids, but enough could be trained to pacify the others. They were physical adults, yet mental toddlers, with no way of getting home, and no food. He was sure he could win their hearts and minds through their stomachs.

  He already had his command team updating a farmstead plan they used in Afghanistan to give allied tribes something to do besides grow poppies and kill each other. He intended to assign groups of students to security, foraging or farming, depending on their skill sets. Plenty of easily secured arable land was available in parks and golf courses. If he needed more, confiscating surrounding farms just outside of town would be easy with his new recruits.

  Able townspeople would enjoy the same opportunity. The point of setting up distribution centers away from where people lived was to weed out anyone too fat or lazy to be of use to the community. Those with ability and initiative would arrive at the centers to find a hook under the bait: they would be given the option of joining his command. He assumed the good men would jump at the chance to keep their families fed. Since entire families would arrive together to get the maximum amount of supplies, there would be no reason not to stay in newly prepared bases near the distribution points… where they’d be safe.

  On the other hand, those still expecting soldiers to drop food off at their house would eventually figure out help wasn’t coming to them. The scared and starving would descend as a mob on the centers. His new recruits would be the ones to hold off the zombies, keeping his veteran soldiers safe. Trial by fire, testing loyalty and giving new soldiers the combat experience needed to understand chain of command.

  Walsh figured it would take about two weeks to weed out the hopeless and identify those who would become valuable members of the community. An aggressive timetable, he admitted to himself. But he was able to accomplish similar results in places that still thought Allah would be saving them from the evil American devil. The fanatics were wrong, he proved it to them countless times. Eventually they accepted he was their god.

  The campus would be a bit trickier. But if he had to, he would just isolate that population for a while and then use his new townie recruits to pacify any resistance. Walsh remained confident at least a thousand or more students could be recruited right away to join the security force. With that, the rest could be turned into farmers or foragers after the desperation set in. I’ve got to keep enough females alive and not traumatized to pair up with the new soldiers. He learned that men who were married took commands a lot better than single men with time to think about their own version of right and wrong.

  While he finished up his instructions for accessing the food, he could see several people melt away from the crowd. These would be the ones smart enough to start heading towards the food supply immediately. Consciously or not, they instinctively understood that first movers had a better chance of getting to the front of the food line. Any other information announced during this assembly would come to them via word of mouth and they didn’t need to see an execution when there were families to feed.

  Good, Walsh thought. There were still some people with an idea of duty and responsibility. He would be happy to have those types in his auxiliary forces. Eventually he intended to assign each of his officers a sector of the city or surrounding countryside. Each officer would receive a contingent of real soldiers under their command, along with a force of auxiliaries to help produce food, fuel or other needed assets. There weren’t enough of his men to go around, so they’d need more good recruits to accomplish his amb
itious goals.

  Now I’m beginning to realize what all the training and difficult situations in my career were meant to accomplish, Walsh thought. His whole life existed as a lead-up to rebuild civilization in a structured way. Not haphazard like America became. He would create a society built on honesty and organization.

  I’ll have the base historian write a report on what the Romans left behind in Britain did to survive after the fall of the Empire. Surely, they would have some insight into what it was like to be an outpost of civilization in the middle of barbarians. At least the barbarians he would face here would be unable to fight or fend for themselves. A far cry from the Pics or Celts that the Centurions faced.

  Alright, Attorney Cochran is finally done blathering. As the pudgy little man looked back at Walsh, the attorney was coming to the very uncomfortable realization this was real. He was signing off on murder.

  Walsh didn’t see it that way, of course. The law was on his side, of that there was no question. Besides, who ever witnessed the collapse of an empire before? Certainly no one alive today. He had to do what he knew was right.

  Walsh nodded to the lieutenant now in charge of in town security. Progressing through the firing squad commands, the khaki pants of one of the councilmen began to turn a darker brown. They all stood against the brick wall of the courthouse. No movie silliness, no final words, no cigarette for the doomed. This was real-world stuff, just like he did it in The Sandbox.

  The sound of twelve rifles discharging, three pointed at each councilman, was like an explosion in the townspeople’s ears. As the bodies of the dead men pitched backward, several witnesses bent over and vomited uncontrollably. This would leave a lasting impression on every citizen here, and hopefully they would all take the message back to their friends and neighbors: don’t hurt a soldier.

  Finally, Mayor Rosenberg was half-pulled, half-carried forward to the wall. Colonel Walsh looked in the Mayor’s hollow eyes. No real understanding of what was happening. He held no pity for her. She murdered someone under his command, and this was justice.

  Walsh pulled his .45 and announced, “I find you guilty of capital murder, and you are condemned to death.” The weapon cracked. The Mayor fell to the ground, a single entry wound in one temple and a jagged exit on the opposite side.

  Before the echo stopped, Walsh shouted: “Citizens! You have seen justice done on your behalf. Please return home and prepare your families for a difficult time. We will do what we can to help, but please remember there are few of us and many of you. We have removed some bandits who wanted to cheat you, but you are still responsible for helping yourselves. Please make your way to the nearest food distribution center, where you will be given more information. Thank you for your cooperation,” Walsh concluded.

  Walsh pivoted on one heel, striding to his command Humvee. As he climbed into the passenger seat, Walsh looked over at his personal bodyguard and driver and muttered: “At least the Afghans had the guts to shout something about God before we put them down. I’ve never seen such a passive response to facing death.”

  Ridgeview Hunting Lodge

  Afternoon of the Fifth Day

  The back lawn of Ridgeview Lodge was packed with people from all over Brown County. Some held plastic cups full of ice tea, others Styrofoam coffee cups, and there was the occasional bottle of homebrew mixed in. Nearly all held plates of fresh-cooked barbecue.

  “Our dad used to say ‘No eating, no meeting’ in this part of the country,” Kara Bradshaw chuckled.

  Darwin King leaned his head back in a hearty laugh. He wiped sweat off his brow. Even in the cool fall air, standing over a six-foot-long open grill was hot work. “We got that covered, love. I just hope they enjoy the feed, because I suggest cuttin’ back drastically on food rations starting tomorrow,” he said.

  Kara gave him a questioning look. He explained, “We’ve got plenty of grub for now. But winter’s a-comin’. I’ve been in the Midwest during winter before; gets mighty cold and barren here come February.”

  “February?” she asked. “You think the power is going to be out all winter?”

  Darwin nodded. “I’m guessin’ if the power is out a few more days, it’ll be out for a long, long time to come. Gonna be massive damage to infrastructure.” He stopped and waved his spatula around. “Massive damage to people, too. Better to save every morsel we can now.”

  Kara nodded her understanding. “And early spring is the worst, because nothing is really growing yet, and anything you stored up from the summer is gone.”

  “Right. At least here; a little different back home. Different down south of here too, I reckon. Longer growing seasons.”

  Kara wasn’t smiling anymore. “Then every one of these people is an extra mouth to feed.” She turned with a question. “Why invite them here, then? We can’t afford to give away a single bite of food we’ll need for our staff and their families.”

  Darwin didn’t answer right away. He was turning meat and tending the hot coals beneath. After Kara told him how much meat they had in freezers—no-longer-working freezers—he’d volunteered to work the grill, something he didn’t get to do much away from his beloved homestead. Outdoor cooking was a hobby and a stress reliever for him. He’d stop every once and a while, smiling and nodding at people as they walked by, especially when they complimented him on how good it all tasted.

  Kara smiled as she watched her brother laughing and carrying on with the service manager from the Mt. Sterling FS station. Darwin pointed to Sy. “Politics, my dear. That’s why we’re having this shindig, even at considerable cost to our supplies. We celebrate the life of a dear friend—good karma, that—and at the same time show everyone Ridgeview Lodge is their friend also.”

  “Goodwill?”

  “Too right,” Darwin said. “You think the Caseys and I built multimillion-dollar businesses by hoarding? I mean, yeah, sometimes you do. Can’t just throw things away willy-nilly. But don’t be afraid to spend to make people love ya. If things get bad around here, we’re for sure gonna need someone’s help.”

  “That’s a bit cynical, don’t you think?” Kara asked with accusing eyes.

  Darwin shrugged off the insult. “Life is all about relationships. Outside a few people—and I mean a very few people—relationships are mutually beneficial agreements. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.” He gave her a smile. “Come on, love. You know it’s true. You’d do anything for your brother and little Max, sure. But the circle gets a little thin after that, right?”

  “That’s not what my faith teaches me,” she protested. “I’m supposed to give to everyone with no expectations of return.”

  “I haven’t got much use for that faith, or any others for that matter,” he said as he wire-brushed a side of the grill he’d finished with. “Just a way for moochers to get money from producers. Passin’ the plate like it’s some way to salvation. Pssh. There’s only this life, love. What you do with it is what matters.”

  Kara didn’t push the issue. But one thing she realized she did agree with Darwin about was community. The lodge wasn’t an island. They needed supplies from in town more than the town needed the lodge—at least for now.

  Sy was waving his hand to her, giving her the signal to hurry up and get the meeting started. Kara moved towards the back porch she intended to use as a podium. She froze in her tracks as a group of ragged-looking men and women walked around the corner of the lodge.

  “What is it, Kara?” Darwin asked.

  “Kaplans,” she said spitefully. “Syn cookers.”

  Darwin didn’t say anything, watching the new arrivals’ every move. Everyone else stopped and watched, too. Three women with long, straight hair pulled back in ponytails were surrounded by four bearded men. Each had a similar flannel shirt unbuttoned over t-shirts and untucked from denim jeans. Each had a rifle slung over their shoulder. To an outsider, they’d fit the hillbilly stereotype. Except on closer inspection a careful observer would see they weren’t dirty, just unconcerned
about making any appearance other than intimidation.

  The whole yard went quiet save for birdcalls and the sounds of kids playing tag.

  King quickly moved everything still cooking on the grill over to the warming side. He hung the tongs and spatula from the metal hooks above and pulled off his apron.

  “Welcome to the meetin’, mates,” Darwin shouted with a big smile and a wave. To Kara’s surprise he walked directly to the Kaplan family’s leader, arm outstretched in greeting. She couldn’t hear everything Darwin said, but the greeting seemed to be reciprocated by the look on the face of Erline Kaplan.

  Kara met the eyes of Sy. Her brother stood with mouth literally wide open in shock. She shrugged, took a deep breath, and walked to join Darwin engaged in a lively conversation. The smile on Erline’s face drained away as Kara approached.

  “You gonna kick me off your land again, Miss Bradshaw?” Erline asked sarcastically.

  Darwin cut in before Kara could reply. “Naw, she ain’t gonna do nothin’ like that, Miss Erline. Are ya, Kara? We called this meeting for everyone in the county. Don’t matter what’s happened between us in the past, just wanna worry about the future,” he said.

  Erline looked at Kara. She asked without speaking, to which Kara answered with a simple nod, begrudgingly given.

  “A’right then,” Erline said. “Mr…uh, King, was it?”

  “Darwin, love, please. Just Darwin will do.”

  Erline stared at the Aussie for a moment. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail; from the way her forehead was tanned all the way to the hairline, she likely kept it that way all day, every day. Wrinkles formed at the corner of her eyes, a greenish hazel standing out from skin nearly as tan as Darwin’s. First glance would suggest an intellectual drop out to most. Darwin recognized the shrewd mannerisms of a wily fox.