by G. R. Carter
“Does he have enough concrete finished?” Horath asked. Phil sensed she was already hoarding materials in her mind. He figured the retired librarian would easily be sold on the idea of the school shelters.
“Short answer: no. Albright’s got enough for several of the farms and schools and that's it. But she also has a lot of raw materials on hand. The company that owned the plant shut it down a few months ago. Same situation as the Greenstem refinery. Not enough profit in building real things anymore. These owners just locked the doors and left, so there are several months of materials on site. Albright says there’s also enough material sitting up at a plant in Decatur to build up the whole county.”
“What locations were you figurin’ to start on?” Clark asked.
“There’s an old grain elevator a couple of miles from my farm. There are three big concrete grain silos we use for extra storage during harvest,” Phil told the group.
“I don’t understand, Phil. Why not reinforce Schoolhouse Hill first?” Sheriff Olsen asked, referring to the Hamilton family’s home farm. “Whatever you learn there, you can use on the others.”
Anna answered for him. “The shelters in town are a short term solution. We’re going to have to get people out to the farms as soon as possible, Clark. I’m really concerned about contagious diseases breaking out in close quarters like we’ll have at the schools and churches. We’ll make every effort to keep the sanitation and nutrition up to par, but we’re dealing with less than ideal conditions there. So we need to get people out of town and into the country. To do that, we’re going to need space to house a lot of people.”
Phil continued. “Most farms aren’t set up to handle extra people. The house might hold ten or fifteen at most. And that’s tight. Flip side, that few would be hard pressed to hold out against a big bandit raid. What we’ve got in mind is something like an old castle. Now in the past, those castles had a big tower in the middle. It provided great visibility to see bad guys coming, and if attacked and surrounded everyone could go in there and be safe. See what I mean?
“We’ve got these big concrete grain silos all over the county. Five or six stories tall, some a lot bigger than that even. From the top you can see for miles! The walls are reinforced concrete several feet thick, and they could withstand anything short of tank cannon or heavy artillery,” Phil said, watching Clark start to picture the idea in his head.
“My thought is that we’ll put resources into fortifying these, and then build dirt and concrete walls around them. People can farm the surrounding fields during the day, and then come in behind the walls at night for safety. We’ll keep the towers staffed with lookouts, who should be able to see any bandits coming for miles. The lookouts can sound an alarm if need be and get the workers safely in from the fields. Or fight them from the walls, whatever is best,” Phil concluded.
Phil could see the sheriff and mayor take mental inventory of all the big towers they remembered seeing dot the Midwestern landscape. If those could be turned into fortresses, people could farm in safety and start rebuilding the food supply.
“Well, can I use the public works employees and equipment?” Phil asked Horath. “We won’t be replacing any roads or bridges soon, so I was thinking if we got every bulldozer, track hoe and bucket loader we could find, we could be working on as many as four projects at once. It will be a while before enough fortress farms are complete, we’ll still need to be fortifying the school shelters and fortifying the Churches.”
“Materials, though,” Sheriff Olsen interjected, “you’ll be out of materials within a few weeks.”
“We’re going to need an expedition to that plant in Decatur to get the goods Albright was talking about,” Phil agreed.
“I guess that’s where I’m supposed to volunteer, right?” Olsen laughed and checked his old windup pocket watch. “I’ll have a couple of my deputies start recruiting volunteers to go on this quest. Any heavy trucks still running will need to be ‘volunteered’ as well.”
“Ok, that’s the end of our municipal maintenance programs, folks. Phil and Clark, those vehicles are now officially on your budget instead of ours,” Horath said.
Nervous chuckles tried to hide their discomfort. What they were doing was so far from legal it wasn’t even worth discussing anymore. Survival took precedent over rule of law, even though the idea of fighting for your life in your own hometown still seemed absurd. Americans always expected the government to show up at some point and help, even rural Americans who had been let down by the government time after time. If people couldn’t get their minds around the fact that no one was coming to save them, and soon, legality would be the least of their worries.
New America
The Seventh Day
The tires of Colonel Walsh’s command Humvee whirred down the brick streets leading towards the university campus. Under the shade of hundred-year-old trees he could already see families headed out of their homes and towards food distribution centers. No one seemed in a panic yet; just moms and dads trying to herd their children, getting them to walk quickly without running off. These must have been the go-getters who left the courthouse early, or maybe the civilians too stubborn to heed Walsh's summons.
Pulling up to the Student Union, Walsh was pleased to see the campus courtyard filling up in front of the stage set up outside the front entrance. The beautiful park-like setting stood shaded by oaks and maples planted generations ago. Wide sidewalks crisscrossed the grassy areas where college students played and sunned themselves in happier times.
Might have to dig those concrete sidewalks out. This area would be perfect for secure gardens and could be easily secured by filling in the passages between those massive brick buildings that make up the edges of the campus quad, Walsh thought.
The provost was finishing up the final part of her speech as Walsh's driver pulled up about fifty yards away. The engine shut off and he tried to get a gauge of the mood of the crowd. As expected, several were shouting and pumping their fists in defiance, but an equal number seemed to be listening intently to the message. Those will be my first recruits. As the provost gave her final instructions, the gathered students clumped into two distinct groups. The group that seemed most interested in what the administration offered headed towards the young lieutenant that Walsh put in charge of the campus food storage.
The other group seethed like a mad bull looking for something to charge. As a precaution, Walsh had positioned snipers in upper-story windows in buildings around the courtyard before the assembly started. Orders to selectively remove any ringleaders causing too much trouble turned out not to be necessary, much to his relief. The group of malcontents appeared satisfied to blow off some steam by strutting and yelling. After sensing no will for a riot, a few at the back of that crowd began urging others to consider the food and safety available from the National Guard station. The students didn’t realize that Walsh planted some of his female troops in the group, posing as students. He hoped the women would calm some of the young men and provide an example to the younger female students to take his deal. Many still marched from the assembly area towards living quarters, unconvinced to join up with the authorities. But a surprisingly large percentage of those initially unhappy reconsidered and took the safe bet.
Student protesters aren’t what they used to be. Too soft. Still, we can shape most of these to do what’s necessary, Walsh thought.
Walsh assumed many more would have a change of heart over the next couple of days, especially the female students. Campus security was nonexistent outside of the safe zone. Without any protection and with food running scarce, the area beyond his control was about to descend into chaos. Whatever alcohol and drugs were available off-campus would fuel a nightmare of rape and pillage, engulfing those with no interest in joining willingly. He truly hoped most would escape the consequences of their delay.
Walsh and the provost agreed the on-campus dorms on the east side were best for their new recruits. These buildings provided the b
est defense against any mob action and were closest to his base if support was needed. To ensure calm and discourage any attempts to break in from the unsecured areas, he stationed a squad of men and two of his precious heavy weapon Humvees.
Confident that his men had the campus situation in hand, his driver took him to each food distribution center to make sure security was squared away. He knew it would be, but his men needed to see leadership more than they needed direction. Even trained veterans felt lonely in remote outposts, especially with the limited radio service his techs provided thus far. Emotions would be running sky-high with the sight of American citizens desperate and starving. The sight of their commanders let them know they were a key part of future plans.
Until he could get some kind of reliable communication system working, he would have to ride the circuit like this on a daily basis. Each day a different route; even zombies could pick up patterns. Satisfied with the progress his sector commanders were making, they headed back to base.
Been a long day, and there’s a very difficult conversation to have with the major's wife.
The entire base was like a family in close quarters; she would know what happened by now. But he needed to talk to her and let her know what her husband’s sacrifice accomplished for them. There would be a memorial service, and a chance for him to mourn this first casualty of a new society. He would figure a way to honor his friend, to truly immortalize him in some way. Perhaps he would name their first division of new troops after him. Only the best of the best will do. I’ll have to think of that soon.
The base was a hub of activity as they turned up the concrete driveway. Heavily armed guards opened the gate with a salute and a wave past transport trucks loaded with supplies. Most of the food would remain here, with just enough taken out to the distribution centers to pacify the new arrivals. Refugees possessing skill sets they were looking for would be brought here on base for training and assignment. Eventually, there would no longer be food in the distribution centers.
Those too dumb or slow to get there in time might just keep right on walking, hopefully never to come back.
Shelbyville
The Eighth Day
Samantha Cornin fought to maintain her composure. “He’s gone crazy,” she said with a broken voice. “I’ve never seen him so, so…” She began to sob.
“What’s he doing, Sami?” Anna Hamilton asked, trying to get Dalton Cornin’s wife to look at her. Instead, the distraught woman just stared at the floor through red, watery eyes.
“His eyes are so empty,” she said. She hugged a toddler boy up against her leg. “He came after Emory. I moved to stop him and he just knocked me down.” She turned her arm and pulled up her sleeve to show Anna a deep bruise and cut. In the dim lights of the main hallway, the colors took on a deep purple, almost black. Samantha had treated the cut herself. Anna made a mental note to find out what she’d disinfected the wound with. Already, she’d seen a couple of infected cuts come into Shelbyville Memorial, and they didn’t have antibiotics to spare.
Anna patted Samantha on the back and tried to keep the woman calm. “It’s okay. You’ll be safe here, we’ll take care of you and Emory, don’t worry. Where’s Dalton now?”
Samantha shook her head. “I don’t know for sure. I grabbed Emory and ran out into the garage while he was distracted. I locked the door behind us. He was rifling through drawers, looking for something…” She raised her head and looked at Anna with pleading eyes. “Oh god, do you think he was looking for a knife?” She started sobbing uncontrollably. Her child joined the wailing.
Anna put an arm around Samantha and her child. “No, I’m sure that wasn’t it. He’s never hurt you before, right?”
“Not like that, no,” she replied.
Anna’s first thought was to get the deputy who was posted at the front door of the hospital. If Dalton Cornin was abusing his wife and child… She decided against filing charges, for now. And only because the deputy would be more useful here, keeping desperate people looking for a fix from entering the hospital.
Anna was finding out the drug abuse problem in town was much worse than she ever knew. As a nurse, she’d seen the way the hyper addictive Syn drug compound reduced normal people to a creature more akin to a zombie. In the past, they’d ship the worst cases to St. Louis for treatment. Seldom was anyone truly cured; most of the time they traded an illegal chemical that bankrupted them for a legal prescription that did the same. Regardless, she’d never witnessed what several days’ worth of untreated Syn withdrawal did to the human nervous system. Mixed in with all the people running out of anti-depressants and ADHD medicines, most of her medical issues so far were people whose body chemistry had been altered for years by pharmaceuticals being forced to go cold turkey.
Her most surprising discovery was how many supposedly healthy and successful people were now sick. The bank president wasn’t the first to reveal a hidden addiction this week. The veneer was off the hollow shell of civilization now, and life was getting real in a big, big hurry.
Families watched helplessly as their loved ones crumbled. Like good Americans, their first thought was the hospital and another prescription to dull the pain. But Anna had nothing to counteract the symptoms of chemical abuse, not since the first patients arrived. Now all she could offer was shelter to the non-addicted while their loved ones tore their homes to shreds in a rage, looking for something no longer there. When the afflicted - Synheads people called them - were done ripping up everything they loved, they stumbled into the neighborhoods, and sometimes here to the hospital. So, the deputy would have to stay here for now instead of venturing out into the streets. Protection would have to trump prosecution for the foreseeable future.
The problem was going to get worse before it finally burned itself out, she knew that. While Phil and the Wizards tried to fortify against external threats, she was beginning to wonder if the biggest threat of all might be right here, amongst friends and neighbors.
All she could do for now was keep people as safe and comfortable as possible, and hope no more Syn would find its way into town.
ARK
The Tenth Day
Tony Diamante was regarded as a savior and a genius – at least to the living. While the outer city of St. Louis died a fiery death, the people inside the City Center, now known simply as The ARK, lived a comfortable life high walls and locked gates. Emotions remained a bit on edge with the future still unknown, and everyone experienced quiet withdrawals from a life built on gadgets and gizmos. “But better in here than out there,” was the end of many conversations.
Peacekeepers, the ARK security officers under the command of Tony’s cousin Bobby Costello, experienced a different world from the relative safety of the ARK. Waves of desperate refugees tried to flow over the barricades built up in the streets between the high-rise buildings. ARK personnel died in some of the clashes, giving Tony the perfect opportunity to conduct state funerals and speak about their sacrifice for the greater good. The somber ceremonies drew the community closer together quite nicely.
Organizing the first funerals, Tony’s consigliere Uncle Jack noticed that no priest or rabbi had been invited to join the ARK, so he chose the mayor to preside over the services. She provided an effective and heartfelt speech about the sacrifices the fallen made for the safety of her family and others gathered in the ARK. Since the former city police force was now a part of the Peacekeepers, her words had authority with all people living in the ARK. The faces of the fallen were painted on a wall facing the City Center fountain with a brief biography.
Without Vid screens or any other form of electronic stimulus, people found other ways to pass the time. Live music was a constant source of entertainment, and so were short plays held down by the fountain. Police and fire department bagpipes turned out to be a surprising hit, the sad wailings a musical reflection of the dark world they now occupied.
Many took to the tower roofs with binoculars or telescopes. Through the looking glasses, t
he voyeurs watched battles for survival rage through the city. Huge fires consumed any still standing neighborhood, engulfing any flammable material left. Citizen volunteers watched the streets, using flags or mirrors to alert Peacekeepers to dangers approaching the barricades.
No one ever asked who was in charge. The entire food supply rested securely in vaults at the bottom of Tony’s Renaissance Tower headquarters. Getting in and out of the building was a very difficult proposition, and was completely impossible if the Peacekeepers didn’t want you there. Upon entry, security personnel escorted visitors to their destination. No one roamed freely through the halls and visits were short and to the point. Other Firms kept some food supply of their own when they first moved in, that was no secret. Tony didn’t mind; they couldn’t store enough to last long if someone made a move on him. Besides, the Peacekeepers kept all the guns, and they worked for Tony.
Tony’s time was occupied with plans for the city after the destruction was over. He intended to use all of downtown as his capital with the City Center remaining the hub of activities. Knowing that human beings are the most resilient animal, he assumed thousands of survivors still roamed out there in the rubble. He needed enough to be alive and safe to farm once the Peacekeepers secured the surrounding blocks. I hope some of the gangs are still together; those are people I’ve worked with in the past. They were businessmen at heart, and would understand his vision.
Uncle Jack once again busied himself with human resource issues. Once they established contact with surviving groups and ensured that the rest of the city was no longer a threat, he’d get rid of a lot of the government bureaucrats who entered the ARK. They’d keep Mayor Romano, she was a real asset in building the structure of the new city. Community organizing held zero interest to Tony or Uncle Jack.