by Zack Finley
"Will do."
"Sgt Grady, we need your shooters to aim at the outboard engines if our enemy chooses to send any little boats out. The second decks are great shooting positions. I've asked Allie to use the Jersey Girl to shield the Cumberland, so place your people accordingly. I'll be on the Cumberland's second deck manning the M240b. Allie will be in the wheelhouse and Kurt in the engine room. Craig will be your coordinator." I wasn't sure when Tom arrived, but he was nearby and ready to help. "John has one of our radios and battle armor, he can help as a runner." Grady nodded.
"John, meet us in the galley. Allie, plan is as we discussed, get us moving," I radioed. Joel left to make sure Kurt was ready to monitor the engines, making way for Mike and Craig hobbling in.
"Craig, stay in the galley and be our liaison with Sgt. Grady. That will free up Tom to help outside. I think we have enough shooters for this showdown. Mike, hang with Allie, the top of the wheelhouse is a good shooting perch."
"Tom, you'll be our small boat handler today if we choose to use them. If not, shoot at the bad guys from the Cumberland deck," I said. "If you have to go out, have Craig send someone from Grady's crew to go with you."
I checked my ammo load and went up to double check the M240b.
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Chapter 8
We passed the harbor entrance at 09:30. The river captains’ main forces were concentrated in this harbor. Whether they had enough time after spotting us to mount an effective pursuit depended on too many factors to judge. One thing I did know, the faster we put miles between us and the harbor entrance, the safer we were. At some point, the captains had to recognize the diminishing chances of success. While I hoped they would let us pass without a serious challenge, we needed to prepare for conflict.
One of Grady's men stayed on the deck, assigned to monitor the harbor for signs of pursuit.
The West Memphis shoreline looked much the same, including the fishermen by the RV park on the river. They didn't wave back, but they didn't raise their rifles to shoot at us either. I chalked that up as a win.
A large flotilla of barges was still tied up at the gravel plant on the Memphis side of the river about a mile downriver from the three-bridge cluster. Several days ago, this location was a beehive of activity. It was the main defensive barricade keeping the population of Memphis out of the harbor area.
As we neared the site, it looked vacant. No people. I scoured the area with binoculars and found no clues. Maybe the river people had bigger problems than our little group?
A shift in the river brought the three-bridge colossus linking Memphis with West Memphis into view. It was still too far away to conclusively prove the river was clear.
Through this section of the river, the channel favored the Memphis side. Allie kept us as far from the Memphis shore as she dared.
The burned-out oil tanks about a mile upriver from the gravel plant still resembled a scene from Kuwait after the first Iraq war. No real change, although a few of the blackened hulks seemed tinted more toward charcoal gray than the pitch black I remembered.
For those on deck, it was a mere curiosity. Our attention lasered in on the underbelly of the three bridges in front of us. Even while the three-bridge cluster loomed overhead, we spotted the modern I-40 bridge more than a mile away.
Allie eased back on the throttles, slowing as the Cumberland motored into the darkness beneath the first bridge. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness.
The current still pinned two large rafts of empty barges against the upstream bridge. This floating dam blocked navigation across most of the span. Relief coursed through me once Allie confirmed the narrow opening was still there. The barge rafts and bridge supports made the passage hard to see unless you lined up with it directly.
This close to the barrier, we could no longer see the I-40 bridge or Mud Island Harbor.
The Mud Island Harbor, the second Memphis riverport, fell between the I-40 bridge and the three-bridge combination in front of us. Mud Island was the next logical base for a pirate force. We destroyed two boats patrolling this area last time. We would know soon if the area posed a new threat.
First, we needed to deal with the potential sniper on the bridges immediately overhead.
Allie edged the Cumberland to the northwestern bridge pier to push up against the barges. This was the same place the Cumberland picked up, Craig and Mike after their successful sniper hunt days ago. Now Joel and one of Grady's men waited with a pair of ninjas at the Cumberland's push knees ready to leave our boat.
"Joel, don't try until I give the word," Allie radioed.
The bump of our collision with the barge jolted through the Cumberland. Allie put us on the money, against the barge closest to the pier. Allie cutback the engine thrust when the entire raft of barges began edging upriver away from the pier. Allie kept us pinned to the barge by finessing the throttle. This allowed the current to push the raft back against the pier. After a few minutes of stasis, "Joel, we are stable, whatever you do, don't fall in the water," Allie radioed.
Joel waved from the bow, then he and his companion climbed up onto the barge. Once they were stable, they tossed a rope end to those waiting on deck, who secured a ninja to it.
I understood why Allie was concerned about falling into the water. Someone could easily be swept underwater into our props.
"Joel, take a shot if you have one. If you don't see the target, we'll send the patrol boat out to get some attention," I radioed.
"Roger."
"Tom, get ready to take out the patrol boat, once Joel is in position,” I radioed. “Dodge in and out from under the bridge. The idea is to make the sniper reveal himself, not to get shot at."
"Gotcha, wiggle like bait but don't let the bad guy bite, sounds like fun," Tom radioed.
Tom had the patrol boat engines purring, but in neutral while he waited. One of Grady's men lay on the Cumberland holding the rope, ready to release the patrol boat on command. Tom decided to go solo.
As hard as I stared through my binoculars, there were no obvious threats. A sweep down river showed no pursuers at least as far as I could see. The twisting river channel limited visibility to about a mile ahead and behind us.
"I've glassed every inch of that span and can't spot a sniper. We need our bait to pop out and wiggle," Joel radioed.
"One pile of bait, on the way," radioed Tom. At a signal from Tom, the rope handler unclipped the tie from the patrol boat's trailering eye. The patrol boat backed away from the Cumberland, clearing the dive boat behind it by several feet.
The patrol boat continued to ease away from the Cumberland for 30 seconds, then the engines shifted to forward, and the patrol boat gained speed. As soon as it cleared the bow of the Cumberland, the boat leaped forward. Within moments it was screaming down the river at an incredible speed, only to loop around and head upriver into the open gap between the barges.
"Bait should be visible in seconds," Tom radioed.
I lost sight of the patrol boat; the barges and bridge pier blocked my sight.
"No sign of a sniper, keep looping around," radioed Joel.
We waited another 20 minutes before Joel declared the sniper was either not there or was not interested in the patrol boat.
It was the Cumberland's turn to run the gauntlet.
The Cumberland eased back from the barge raft, letting the current carry us away. Once Allie shifted the boat into reverse, that withdrawal speed significantly.
She warned the crew to brace for the shift into forward. Not everyone braced sufficiently, but no one fell overboard. Allie headed us downstream out of the bridge shadow and back into the main channel. Since this was the wrong way, I wondered if there was a steering problem. I began strolling casually toward the wheelhouse to find out. I only moved a few feet in her direction when the Cumberland began making a wide loop. Allie wanted the Cumberland at top speed when we cleared the bridge shadow.
The rumble from the engines and the roiling
water kicked up behind us confirmed Allie intended to get upriver as fast as our ride could take us. Diesel mileage and wear on the engines be damned. I couldn't argue with her logic, being under the glass of a sniper, filled seasoned soldiers with dread.
Everyone remaining on deck prepared to shoot at the bridge over our heads should anyone spot the threat. The best outcome remained in Joel's hands.
The Cumberland chugged out of the shadow of the bridge. The patrol boat raced toward the Mud Island harbor. Tom wanted to lure out any lurking attack group.
Our goal was to reach the I-40 bridge without incurring casualties. It was a scant mile and a half upriver. It was the last bridge over the Mississippi River until Caruthersville.
The crack of a rifle caught all our attention. "Center span on the Memphis side, more than one threat," Joel radioed.
I shouted Joel's message to those around me and to the shooters on the deck of the Jersey Girl. Everyone shifted their aim but no one shot.
"I don't know how many there are, try some suppression fire to give them an excuse to hide. Allie crank your speed to the max," radioed Joel.
"Bursts of fire at the suspect location," I shouted. "Keep their heads' down until we get out of range."
Allie pushed the engines even further. I hoped they could take it.
My M4 spat three-shot bursts. At first, my shots landed low, but I eventually found the correct angle. The rest of the suppressive fire was also low, not reaching the bridge deck.
"Aim above the targets, everyone is shooting low," I shouted.
Most shots shifted higher. The snipers stayed behind cover and, in a few minutes, we'd be out of range. I called a ceasefire on both the Cumberland and Jersey Girl, telling them to shoot only if they had a target. Joel remained on watch to dissuade any remaining snipers until we got fully to safety.
Once the I-40 bridge loomed over us, I felt a lot better. Allie eased the throttle back, so the engines weren't laboring as much. Tom raced the patrol boat ahead of us into the area upriver of the I-40 bridge. His foray into Mud Island Harbor found no one waiting to sally forth.
Once the Cumberland was upriver of the I-40 bridge, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The engines still sounded loud and labored.
Joel radioed he was pulling out and to pick them up on the upriver side of the I-40 bridge in about 15 minutes. Tom lingered in the area to pick Joel's fire team up, while the Cumberland chugged upstream. The more miles we put between Memphis and us, the better I liked it.
The Memphis pyramid glinted to our right, barely visible over the levee and the condominiums lining the river. We were too close to the levees to see it properly.
No fishermen on the banks of Mud Island today. Why this disappointed me was a puzzle.
The Cumberland slowed to bring the patrol boat back alongside.
When we got back underway, I was ready for our 24-hour boat ride. A chance to rest up, clean up, and catch up.
Fearing we weren't out of the woods yet, I insisted Mike stay with Allie in the wheelhouse to monitor downriver. Just in case.
It was time to find out what happened to Andy and Jules.
Andy was in with the kids, and Jules was talking with Craig when I arrived in the galley. Juanita and John were alone in the kitchen area. John helped his grandmother prepare the next batch of corn mush. Juanita flaked the catfish off the carcass, having baked it in the oven. I wished again for some salt.
"Lunch will be ready in about an hour," Juanita called out.
"Thanks, make sure John lets everyone else know," I said, sitting next to Jules.
"I'm glad Andy is with the kids," Jules said, "that will make this easier."
"What happened?" I asked.
"Too many people knew about Andy's hideout," Jules said. "His partners didn't take security seriously. It was a sweet set up, but about two weeks after the power went out, a large group of armed men showed up. The whole thing would have been comical if it wasn't so tragic. The thugs believed we had gold in the mine and enough food to last forever. We used our bolt hole to escape but left a lot of gear and food behind. Once the raiders didn't find the promised goodies, they chased us."
I got up and prepped three cups of coffee, bringing them back to the table. I hoped the break was enough to let Jules regain his composure.
"Joe, Juanita, and John are the only others left from that start," Jules said. "The rest were killed or slipped away in the night. Joe's wife and Carol died in the same firefight. That's where we picked up Sgt. Grady and five guys. They were military or ex-military, I never asked them. They won't talk about it either. Deserters or not, they were sure welcome. We picked up people on the way, some stayed, some left after a few miles. Dwayne was one who stayed, he wanted to go to Helena, and that was as good a place as any to cross the Mississippi River."
Jules cradled his coffee mug. "Getting to Helena became our main goal. It was a milestone. If we made it there, nothing could keep us from getting to Breckinridge Valley. We didn't even make it to the bridge when that group hit us. We screwed up, moving on the road, in daylight. Our group was big enough that little groups left us alone. Would have worked if those inmates weren't coming to take over Helena."
"My mom is going to make you detail your route and what you encountered there. She and Sally are trying to document what is going on all over the world. You aren't done flying either, my dad is looking for a pilot. The presence of planes and avgas at the Oneida airport are driving him nuts," I said.
"I'm more eager to fly around and see what is going on than I am to recount our journey," Jules said. "I saw the projections about what might happen to society. I just never thought it would crater so quickly. I'm glad I was there for Andy, though. I just wish I could have flown everyone to safety."
"You gave us the early warning that got a lot of our people home before the grid went down," I said. "My sister got her family to the Valley from Chicago, and many other allies made it to safety, too. With your warning, we emptied our assets out of Oneida and hardened our position in Huntsville."
"I couldn't take advantage of my own warning," Jules said. "Those federal imbeciles tried to move me to a safe place. What good did they think an astrophysicist would be in the new world? They needed to be taking blacksmiths to safe places or moonshiners. After the sun vomited, my skills were kaput. All they did was keep me from getting home. Fortunately, after the president's speech, they weren't quite as diligent, and I escaped."
"The Valley is doing good. We've got more than 300 people there, and we've expanded into Huntsville. We had to take out more than one group of bad guys, but now most of them in our area have either moved on or are taking a dirt nap. We are providing security for the Huntsville area with the Mecklin Defenders," I said.
"Mecklin Defenders?"
"Yeah, your dad came up with that one. He also provided us a purple color scheme."
"That sounds more like something my mom would do."
"Nah, your dad claims the only reason he chose purple was that the Oneida Walmart had tons of leftover purple paint and material," I said. "Your folks are doing great. Your sister Audrey and Jim are keeping busy. Audrey is teaching the Valley kids math. Jim and Uncle George are doing what they can with so many untrained helpers. Everyone in the Valley has at least three jobs. The biggest problem we have right now is building up our Huntsville base."
"I don't remember that being part of the plan?" Jules asked.
"It wasn't. One of those adlibs. We are the proud owner of the Mecklin County Justice Center. My brother Steve and Mandy are running it. We are moving some people out of the Valley to man it and Mandy is recruiting on the outside. The consensus is that we need to provide enough security for those around Huntsville to plant food this spring. Everyone is hoping this is a better plan. We can still blow the Mecklin River bridge if things go bad."
"I bet that has your mom scrambling," Jules said.
"My mom and everyone else," I replied. "We are using the peaceful period to scav
enge the countryside. So even if it goes all to hell, we'll come out ahead."
I lowered my voice and asked the question that was starting to worry me most, "I get some strange vibes from some of your crew, can we trust them in the Valley?"
"Some without a doubt, Sgt. Grady and his people I don't know," Jules said, dropping his voice even lower. "Something has changed. You can trust them to have your back in a shootout, but that thing this morning was different. I don't know where they were going when they joined us. Andy and Joe were in charge for a long while, but once we picked up Sgt. Grady, things changed. Some for the better since both Andy and Joe were grieving. We needed someone to keep us moving and help with security."
"Keep your eyes and ears open. I need to know who I can absolutely trust," I said.