by G. R. Carter
The gallows humor took Bek by surprise for a moment. She had been very sensitive to it months before, considering the countless millions who had perished in the same way as the RV dealer. Her mother had helped her understand joking about death was merely a way to cope for some people.
She moved on. “And the people who don’t want to become a tenant in the fortresses? Or who don’t have a spot on one yet?”
“Most everyone wants to come out to the fortresses. Tenants have a chance to become Land Lords of their own fortress farm once they put their time in,” AJ said. “If they’re not ready yet, my mom set up a system in the towns where we use the schools to house them all. She teaches them a Cliff’s Notes version of agriculture. School Shelters is what we call them. Classrooms are family apartments, cafeterias are open for breakfast and dinner, and the large open areas like the gym are a commons area where people can socialize. Exercise isn’t a problem, since most of the adults spend all day working their tails off. But they feel good that their children are safe and sound until they get back from the day's chores.”
He was proud of what his parents had accomplished. Both Phil and Anna were gone more than they were home. That left the responsibility for running the farm squarely on AJ and Sam, along with their sisters Esther and Lorraine. All took to the task, with only occasional resentment for being forced to run a fortified homestead instead of chasing the American teenage dream of no responsibility.
“We’ve had to grow up a lot faster and a lot different than we could have ever imagined,” Bek said with a sigh. “It’s almost like I can’t even remember what life was like before the Reset. What will it be like in a few years?”
He looked up at the rivers of light piercing the night sky above them. “Maybe, if these things ever disappear, we can start getting back to normal. The Wizards say we could recreate a lot of what we had before, if there wasn’t so much electrical interference.”
“Yeah, well, it would be great to get internet back again. But for right now mom and I still have to find a way to feed a couple thousand people, keep a wannabe dictator from taking over our campus and fight off crazed savages who want to do worse than just invade,” Bek said letting despair seep into her voice.
“We’ll help you, Bek. You all are good friends of ours. I know your survival is important to mom and dad. We’ll find a way to make it work.”
They shared a look, a look that might have been uncomfortably long except for the feeling it generated for them both. Finally, AJ looked away up to the top of the main fortress tower. “Would you like a tour of the Hawk’s Nest?”
Shelby County
“Why can’t I go along?” AJ Hamilton pleaded with his father. “I can handle a weapon, and you’ve trained me how to drive the Snapping Turtle.”
Phil sighed. Alex inherited his mother’s ability to argue, and her stubbornness. Fortunately, it was AJ’s mother who stood 100% opposed to their eldest son joining Shelby County’s first salvage trip with their newly assembled armored trucks. Before Phil could speak, Anna jumped in.
“Son, we need you here. What if the farm gets attacked? Plus, we’re still making the changes to the defenses we agreed on. You need to oversee all that. I can’t do it, I’m at the hospital all day.”
“Come on, Mom, you know this is the safest place in the county right now. The defenses are already better than anyplace else, and Dad recruited every good shot from the towns to come and work on this farm.”
Phil blushed just a bit; had it been that obvious? Anna could certainly read people’s motivations, maybe Alex inherited that trait, also. Oh well, either way, he wasn’t apologizing for inviting high quality people to live on their farm. Those folks needed a place to go, and he was willing to take them on. In exchange for labor and helping with defense, the new tenants received a place to live that wasn’t a crowded shelter, and food to eat that wasn’t beans and rice brought back from salvage trips. Anna suggested the recruiting offer that seemed to hold the most value; the Hamiltons agreed that after the first year, each tenant received a plot of land for themselves
Was this Land Lord/tenant arrangement laying the groundwork for a future feudal system? Phil feared it might be, but no one had the luxury of political theory right now; the only luxury on anyone’s mind was a safe place to sleep and a stomach that was at least partially full.
Phil and some of his cooperative would have to leave that safe place soon; they had to find more food for the people looking to them for leadership.
Nine rumbling metal beasts idled along Main Street. The odor of burning soy diesel hung in the air, just like it always did these days. The kids complained about it, but the adults who heard the terrifying stories coming out of the cities never said a word. Every man and woman in the county knew that Phil and the Wizards quick action and planning saved many of them from starvation or freezing to death. Without the biodiesel produced at the Greenstem Refinery and smaller stills around the county, there would be no vehicles, no generators and no heat. Electricity from the generators was not always reliable but the glow from dim light bulbs and warmth from makeshift furnaces was a welcome reminder of a past life.
AJ stormed off, followed closely by Anna. He was a good kid. He’d make a good leader someday, though he’d have to figure a way to keep his temper in check. Anna spent a lot of time reminding her husband that age was the best cure for testosterone disease. This was turning into a world where aggression was rewarded. Survival required a certain level of it. Phil took heart knowing Alex and Sam were young men who had plenty of drive, you could always slow a kid down, but it was difficult to speed them up if they weren’t wired for it. He and Anna would just have to make sure they surrounded the boys with good mentors, to channel their instincts into reasoned thought. His daughters were young enough they’d grow up with only distant memories of an easier life. To them, struggle would just be the way of things.
He mentally checked his salvage list again. Of course, food and medicine remained the top priority. He pulled out the tattered old phone book for Decatur and found two pet stores. Hopefully one might still have fish antibiotics which worked nearly the same as human medicine in most cases. The Guardian dogs roaming the farms would enjoy it if he found some dog food, though it was likely long gone. Gun shops were on the list, but no one had much hope of finding anything useful there, either. Same with the Get–Marts sitting on every street corner, likely not worth their time, since looters tended to hit the same places they shopped.
Phil and Clark Olsen hoped schools and larger office buildings would remain worthwhile targets. After deciding to use their local schools as shelters, a pleasant surprise was the food storage kept in the cafeteria storerooms. Perhaps if they got lucky, pillagers hadn’t discovered the same hidden treasure in other locales.
Clark briefed them on the psychology of thieves. A thief would break an outside door or window to gain entry of a building, but then hesitate to break down an interior door that was locked. Rushed or lazy, looters would rummage through open areas but leave the most valuable areas untouched. At least, those were actions of thieves in the past. Each salvage crew were instructed to break down every locked door they came across in hopes of finding something useful. No sense in being quiet anyway; with nine ungainly Snapping Turtles leaving a trail of smelly black exhaust, all creatures still alive in the ruins would know strangers were in the neighborhood.
Office buildings scattered throughout cities might contain a cafeteria or at least vending machines. Most modern office buildings were nearly fortresses themselves, able to withstand pedestrian attempts to break in. Phil and Clark had no intentions of making halfhearted efforts; they would blast their way in or even ram their way in with a Turtle. Again, no sense in being subtle. They were just there to get what they need and get out.
The day wound down, with final preparations being made to the Turtles for the forty-five-mile trip into Decatur. The distance was nothing to travelers before Grapevine crashed. Now stalled vehicle
s, fallen trees and other unknown obstacles lay in their way. Plus, the Turtles were going to be kept under thirty miles an hour for the trip. The Wizards didn’t yet know how the reinforced suspensions or the tires would hold up to the extra weight of the armor at higher speeds. Adding in the strain of towing a salvage wagon left a lot of variables to how the new vehicles might perform. So slow and steady, like a Turtle, would rule the trip. Bottled water and homemade fiber bars passed for MREs or C-rations for this group of modern militiamen. Everyone hoped for something different to eat at their destination, if only enough to break the monotony of the food in their backpacks.
This was the big adventure that AJ and every other young person who didn’t know better attempted to secure a seat for. Phil assured those staying behind there would be plenty of future opportunities if this trip worked out. If the trip went bad, though, those young people would be making decisions for the community would be much quicker than they knew.
*****
After some tearful goodbyes, handshakes and hugs, the twenty-seven members of the salvage group spent most of the road time in isolated thought. Rumbling diesel engines mixed with the steady whine of truck tires on decaying asphalt made conversation next to impossible, even at half throttle. When the convoy slowed, everyone was on alert for trouble. With ditchmen in the area, no one was really sure if abandoned cars were roadblocks or just remnants of a forgotten trip. Nervous jitters nearly overwhelmed them when weaving around the obstacles. Followed quickly by an adrenaline crash as the convoy regained pace.
Even those who experienced Clark Olsen’s first salvage trip weren’t truly prepared for the new normal. They saw friends get hurt and die but they never laid eyes on who was trying to kill them in that ambush. Few veterans of that experience volunteered for today’s trip. No one blamed them. Those husbands and fathers, tradesmen and farmers, never expected to be shot at, not really. None of those men signed up for or expected to become soldiers.
The group under his command today was different. Still untested, each volunteer knew the potential danger. Actually, Phil and the Sheriff were the only two who weren’t volunteers - everyone just assumed they would be going. Some of the volunteers were motivated by adventure, but most came because the supply situation was deteriorating. Ten thousand people now fell under Shelby County’s cooperative umbrella. In many ways, their lives were dependent on what these twenty-seven could find.
Spirits were high among the group as they approached the outlying subdivisions of Decatur. What had once been a Midwestern industrial hub of 75,000 people sat silent as a tomb as they approached. Phil felt angry eyes upon them; he just hoped that the monsters in the ruins feared the metal monster he rode in.
Each Turtle had a driver and a navigator facing forward in the front seat. A security man sat facing backwards just behind them with a small observation window to look through. Just one second-row seat would fit due to the sloping and tapered back of the vehicle. The security man could pop up through a hatch with his weapon if needed to fire forward. Phil wanted something like a .50 caliber heavy weapon to be placed on top, but the Wizards asked him for patience. They had a special surprise coming soon.
The convoy stopped on an interstate overpass near the first off-ramp for the city. Sheriff Olsen was in the second Turtle, and Phil in the third. They left the engines running, diesels could be a little difficult to restart, and no one wanted to be a sitting duck. Olsen scanned the area with binoculars, while Phil and his driver Johnny Jackson looked over the map. Jackson was an over-the-road semi-truck driver and knew the roads in and out of Decatur well. He had hauled out of the Caterpillar plant here hundreds of times before it was scaled down and moved to an area nearer the ports used to carry heavy machinery overseas. Phil considered splitting into groups of three to cover more ground, but Olsen made the final call to keep the group together. Being their first trip with the new vehicles, and considering the experience of the last trip, his primary concern was getting everyone back in one piece.
Phil had become the de facto leader of the county. He was completely unelected, yet the mayors all sought his counsel. The Wizards worked from his list of priorities. The cooperative itself was an extension of the Phil and Anna’s framework. He certainly held the leadership post among the farmers…that is, as much as anyone actually ever leads farmers. More like herding cats, you could seldom get them to go where they didn’t want to.
But regardless of the de facto government forming around him, Phil always deferred to Sheriff Olsen in matters of security. Not only had Olsen spent a lifetime in law enforcement, he also spent six years in the US Army. The sheriff's situational awareness got them out of Decatur that day right after the Reset when they went to get news and supplies. Plus, his willingness to accept the absurd possibility that Americans would soon be fighting each other over scraps after the power went out was the catalyst that awoke Phil to what needed done to save Shelby County.
Phil Hamilton also had a keen sense of politics, regardless of how he might bristle at the thought. It had been just a short time ago that Clark Olsen, and in particular Maryanne Olsen, thought the Hamiltons were lunatics on the fringe of society. The sheriff might be a convert to the Shelby County Cooperative’s way of thinking, but keeping his wife satisfied that the big man had a seat at the leadership table was going to take careful navigation.
*****
Phil was amazed at the lack of people they came across. Live people, anyway. There was no getting used to the sight of human bodies in various stages of decomposition on almost every block. Whatever happened here was terrible, and to a man they shuddered to think of their own families facing that reality. Occasionally, a sentry would catch a glimpse of a shadows or a blur in the rubble. But no humans had yet challenged them in any way.
After several searches of abandoned buildings, the group recovered solid if unspectacular finds. Two of the salvage wagons were half filled with various dry goods. Also, junkyards yielded a treasure trove of parts and pieces needed for the biofuel and concrete plant. The Wizards sent a page-long wish list and the men were able to fill several of the requests as they moved from spot to spot.
Phil smiled when one of the schools yielded cases of light bulbs to take back. He was reasonably sure they’d fit the school shelter light fixtures Anna needed to keep lit. Phil focused on the wish list still unchecked in his mind as Olsen walked up beside him, rifle slung over his shoulder.
“What do you say we get a couple things more off our target list and then head for home?” he asked.
Phil felt a little sense of relief at the suggestion. “There are still lots of things we need, but I'm pretty happy with what we’ve got.”
“Me, too. I’ll be very happy if we can get out of here with no trouble. These Snapping Turtles are the perfect weapon if they keep us from having to fight.” Clark paused. “I just feel like the clock is ticking. Like whoever is out there is not so shocked by our appearance anymore. Like they’re trying to figure out now if they can take us.”
“I’m with you. Let’s hit this office complex here. Then we’ll declare victory and head for home. The ladies said that we needed every paper product used in bathroom-type situations. So, toilet paper, paper towels and anything in a machine on the walls are priority targets. Oh yeah, and we need a couple of teams to hit the cafeteria too,” Phil finished.
“Okay. I’ll get the Turtles set up in defensive positions. We’ll leave the drivers with the vehicles, and I’ll stay with one other guy. That will give you ten men to salvage, and leave me five for over watch,” Clark said.
“Let’s do it. With any luck, we’ll be back home by nightfall,” Phil said hopefully.
*****
Phil swore he’d never complain about waiting for an elevator ever again by the time he brought down his umpteenth load of paper products from the second of three ten-story office buildings. The only working elevator he knew of was the shaky old lift bringing watchmen up into the Hawk’s Nest…but he wasn’t go
ing to complain about that one’s pace ever again, either.
Over his huffing and puffing, roaring engines startled him. The popping of gunfire joined the racket. Dropping his armload of tissue paper, he grabbed his weapon and headed for the gaping hole where the front security office window used to be. They had to work to get this building open.
As he peered out the opening, he watched Sheriff Olsen shouting instructions and pointing to different Turtles. Two were on the move already, and the remaining drivers were gathered behind the two command trucks. Phil sprinted to Olsen just in time to hear “Now, move to your vehicles!”
“What’s going on, Clark?” Phil panted.
“We’ve got inbound a couple miles down the road. Just happened to notice them with the binoculars. Looks like a running gunfight, with a couple of vehicles being chased by what I swear looks like Army Humvees,” he replied.
“Okay, I’ll go get the rest of the guys. Should we help the runners or just act like we’re not here?”
“Who should we help? I mean, those look like government vehicles fighting a couple of ragtag SUVs. How do you know who the good guys are?” Clark demanded.
“Right, we’ll just go defensive and see what happens.”
Phil ran back in and started shouting. It took a moment to find everyone, and a second longer to take a quick head count. “Weapons ready!” he commanded, then headed back into the parking lot.
With his salvage team in tow, he could tell that the mission had changed. The two SUVs were now positioned behind the defensive array of Turtles, and several men were climbing out and headed for the sheriff's post. They carried a motley array of battle rifles and handguns, though they were clothed in combat fatigues. Olsen seemed to have decided whose side Shelby County’s forces would be on.
The sprawling office complex had a series of parking lots, split into smaller squares and separated by landscape islands with small trees. Olsen had positioned the Turtles behind these mounds, providing some line of sight cover although the small plants and landscape mulch would provide little stopping power for heavier weapons. As they peered through the trees, the lead Humvees of the pursuers were splitting to get on either side of their positions. Phil could see that there were at least three additional Humvees stopped on the frontage road just outside of the office complex. Though everyone was in rifle range, there was no fire from either side; the Humvees seemed to be getting a measure of this new development, and the sheriff decided not to be the one to open fire first.