Fire From the Sky: Firestorm

by N. C. Reed

“I guess that's true,” Gordon nodded, removing the nozzle from the now full tractor and returning it to the rack on the truck bed tank. Zach was riding with Gordon and stood guard while the others worked or ate.

  “You're good to go,” Gordon told his son-in-law. “We're making good time at least,” he mentioned, looking at his notebook.

  “I think three, maybe four days and we can start thinking about planting, assuming the weather cooperates,” Ronny agreed. “I had an idea this morning I want to run by you,” he added after another minute spent eating.

  “What's that?”

  “I was thinking we could plant five or ten acres at the far end,” he pointed east, “in a large garden. Corn, beans, peas, maybe some other stuff. Have it there for people to pick over if they get this far. Have a sign telling people to help themselves.”

  “Have to keep an eye on it,” Gordon said after thinking it over. “Someone would come along and try to take it all, or else take over and charge people for it.” Ronny considered that before nodding.

  “I hadn't considered that,” he admitted. “I guess that's out.”

  “It's not a bad idea,” Gordon insisted. “But what about we plant something like that and when harvest time comes, we distribute it to people that are hungry? I mean, we can't feed everybody of course, but whoever we can help, we would.”

  “Now that is a good idea,” Ronny nodded. “Where would we do it?”

  “We’ll carve out about ten acres in the field between us and the cabin area,” Gordon thought it over before replying. “That would let us keep an eye on it pretty well.”

  “And then truck patch it, sort of?” Ronny mused. “That might work.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of just delivering it to people in need,” Gordon admitted. “Be difficult if not impossible for people to make it to a produce stand these days. And we sure as hell ain't going to Peabody. Not after all this 'Committee of Reconstruction' business.”

  “Yeah,” Ronny shook his head in disgust. “What a cluster.”

  “That's one way to put it.”

  “I heard old man Holman is running it?” Kade asked, looking at Gordon.

  “That he is,” Gordon nodded. “Know him?”

  “My dad used to work for him at the plastic plant, long time ago,” Kade nodded. “Hated his guts.”

  “That does seem to be the consensus,” Gordon agreed. “And he's even worse now, here at the end of the world as we knew it.”

  “Maybe something bad will happen to him,” Kade said earnestly.

  “I'd say that's a given,” Zach added, never stopping his surveillance of their surrounding area. “This can only end one way, ya know.”

  “I'm afraid you're quite right, Zachary,” Gordon nodded. “Holman won't stop, and we won't yield. Can't afford to yield, more accurately. He would strip us bare and leave us starving. And I haven't worked all my life to build this place up to have it ruined by one man's ego. Not to mention all the work the rest of you have done to improve things since the Storm. We worked hard to keep things going, and we're not going to give it over to anyone.”

  “Not without a fight,” Kade was in complete agreement.

  “I've got two kids and another on the way,” Ronny said simply. “There's no alternative for me but to fight him.”

  “We will kick his ass,” Zach said.

  “Don't think it will be all that easy,” Gordon warned. “He's a snake, but Hyatt is smart, too. Sly as a fox.”

  “I don't think it will be easy at all,” Zach replied. “In fact, I expect it to hurt. But we’ll still win and make him sorry he started all this.”

  “Your lips to God's ear, son,” Gordon smiled.

  –

  “You're filthy,” Lainie almost laughed as Clay all but staggered inside. He was covered from head to toe in grit and grime.

  “So kind of you to notice,” as his sarcastic reply as he heeled his shoes off to avoid tracking dirt inside.

  “Hold it,” she held up a hand as he started into the house. “Strip off, Cowboy.”

  “I'm a little too tired, flattering as that sound-”

  “Don't flatter yourself,” Lainie cut him off at the knees. “As long as you smell like a farmer you're not getting close to me. Now shuck off those nasty clothes before you track that filthy mess into my clean house.”

  Sighing in defeat, Clay undressed, stripping down to his briefs.

  “Now can I go get a shower?” he asked, clearly annoyed.

  “Water should be hot already,” she smiled at him. “Supper will be ready by the time you're cleaned up. Now go on,” she swatted his bottom as he walked by.

  “I said I'm too tired,” he told her over his shoulder.

  “I never said you were getting anywhere,” she countered.

  Shaking his head in further resignation, Clay headed for the shower and the promised warm water.

  –

  “You look exhausted,” Alicia said as Ronny sat down by their back door to undress.

  “I am definitely not as young as I once was,” he nodded tiredly. “On the bright side, we did get a lot done today.”

  “I turned the hot water heater on an hour ago,” she told him, setting a hamper next to him for his dirty clothes. “Supper is on the table. I’ll have it warm by the time you get clean.”

  “Is Leanne here?” Ronny asked. “Or anyone else for that matter?”

  “No, it's her night to work at the radio hut,” Alicia shook her head. “Leon is with JJ doing something. We're all alone.”

  “Good,” Ronny nodded, stripping his underwear off and dropping them in the hamper with his outer clothes. “No sense having to bring them back.”

  “Mister Tillman!” Alicia fanned herself theatrically. “And me a married woman!”

  “Happily married at that,” Ronny assured her, making her giggle. “Now get my supper ready!” he ordered as he staggered toward the shower.

  “Yes sir!” Alicia laughed, snapping a mock salute. “Right away sir!”

  –

  “That had to be the most boring exhausting thing in the entire frigging universe,” Corey moaned as he climbed into his rack, hair still wet from a cold shower. “And on top of everything else, there had to be ten acres of dirt on me, man.”

  “Green acres is the life for me,” Zach nodded. “Following Gordy's grandpa around ain't no picnic, either. You'd think a man his age would lose a step or two, but if he has I ain't seen it.”

  “Made of iron, he is,” Kade agreed. “I bet he's still going, right now.”

  “No bet.”

  –

  “Good Lord,” Gordon groaned as he sat down to unlace his boots. “I have got to stop trying to keep up with these kids!” he moaned.

  “Hard day, dear?” Angela asked, kneeling to help him with his boots.

  “Even for a layabout old man like me,” he nodded. “Gets harder every year anyway, and this year is a lot worse, with things the way they are.”

  “Well, you can get a hot shower while I finish your supper, and then it's bed time,” she informed him.

  “You're an angel, woman,” he pecked her lips as he limped past her.

  “I am,” she nodded. “I've put up with you all these years, haven't I?”

  “That you have.”

  –

  “I've gotten soft,” Robert complained as he sat eating his own supper.

  “Oh?” Patricia raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh,” her husband nodded. “I will definitely never be forty again.”

  “That is definitely true,” she agreed.

  “You were supposed to tell me how manly I am, and that I can keep up with these younger bucks with no trouble!” he protested.

  “I'm a Medical Practitioner, sweetie,” she purred. “I can't lie.”

  “I thought that was the Scouts!”

  “Them too.”

  –

  Two more days were spent with all three tractors breaking ground. On the fourth da
y Ronny abandoned the discs and began pulling a planter. Robert joined him the next day, leaving Clay to finish the harrowing alone as they planted. Two more days and Clay was able to add his tractor to the planting schedule. All three worked from daylight to after dark, stopping only to eat while someone else refueled their machines. Fortunately, all the fields they were planting this year had been used the year before, so no breaking work had to be done, just harrowing and preparing the ground for the planters.

  Ronny pulled the largest planter, being more adept at using the heavy machinery, while Robert and then Clay used smaller attachments that were only half as large. Planting naturally went more slowly as more care had to be given to lines and distances. It wasn't especially difficult, labor wise, but it was demanding and required a lot of concentration.

  A small amount of consternation had occurred when Clay had hooked to the last planter and raised the covers to fill the hoppers. Corey had looked inside them and jumped back with a hoop as a large Copperhead snake had struck out at him from inside one.

  “Holy Shit!” the teen screeched, only to get a wooden ladle across his head. Grabbing his head, he turned to unleash the Wrath of Corey on his attacker only to see Angela Sanders standing there with a raised eyebrow.

  “Mrs. Sanders, ma'am,” the wind left Hurricane Corey's sails as quickly as they'd filled them.

  “Corey,” Angela eyed him carefully. “I'd prefer you not use such language, young man. It's unbecoming.”

  “Uh. . .yes man.” What else could he say?

  “I brought you boys some breakfast,” Angela went on, passing each of them a small bundle containing sausage and biscuits, adding a small container of coffee to Clay.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Sanders,” Corey said meekly, accepting the food.

  “You're quite welcome,” Angela smiled and then departed.

  “You're such a wuss,” Clay told the teen as he dug into the food.

  “Hey!” Corey shot back, indignant. “I don't see you doing nothing she don't want done.”

  “I never said I wasn't a wuss,” Clay pointed out with a chuckle. “Hand me that grabber,” he pointed to an old snake pole. “That Copperhead will make a good belt for someone I know.”

  “Should make you get it yourself,” Corey complained, moving to get the desired tool.

  “I'd just leave the snake in there and let you fill that hopper,” Clay shrugged.

  “Jackass,” Corey muttered, then instantly covered his head, looking around frantically.

  “She's gone, tough guy,” Clay laughed.

  –

  They were eight days in when it rained, bringing everything to a halt. The rain lasted only one day, but it was all day and left the ground soaked. Good for the seeds already planted but slowing them down considerably for the land yet to be sown. Jose Juarez took advantage of the short stand down to have a meeting to discuss progress and future plans.

  “I would have expected us to be hit by now,” he admitted. Before them was a large map of the entire farm, courtesy of the Duo and their printer. The map gave a detailed account of fields, pastures, water sources, and buildings. This new map also included their new fortifications, including the lines run for their field telephone system.

  “Advantage to the aggressor,” Nate shrugged. “That's the lesson we've been drilling into everyone for the last two weeks. Applies to us here as well. We know that Holman will attack us and has already. Given his attempt to infiltrate and cause damage to the farm rather than just attack head on, that might be what we should be looking for the most, at least for the moment.”

  “We're watching for everything now,” Jose agreed. “At least everything we can think of. Everyone needs to be theorizing on this, too,” he looked around. “How would we attack this place if it was us. Don't factor in resources we would have access to if we were still operating, but just with whatever that group might have in hand.”

  “Was there a Guard detachment in Peabody?” Mitchell Nolan asked, looking at Clay.

  “Gordy?” Clay looked at his nephew.

  “No,” the teen shook his head. “Nearest one I know of is Lewiston.”

  “I hadn't thought of that,” Nate Caudell said quietly. “Dammit, why didn't we think of that!” he grew louder as the implication fell on him in full.

  “I miss something?” Titus Terry asked.

  “First, did the Guard units assemble?” Nate looked at the teen. “Second, if they didn't what happened to their equipment? They call them 'armories' for a reason. Every Nation Guard Armory has small arms and basic load out of ammunition, in addition to some mechanical equipment, depending on what their MOS is at the moment.”

  “MOS?” Titus looked puzzled.

  “Military Occupational Specialty,” Mitchell Nolan provided. “What they do.”

  “They're ACR,” Victoria Tully informed them. “Pretty much every unit in this area of the state is part of the 278th Armored Cavalry Regiment.”

  “Do any of them have any armor on site?” Jose asked.

  “Not heavy armor,” she shook her head. “Some units will have a one or two Bradleys for training and familiarization, and all of them will have up-armored Hummers and MRAPs as well as trucks. A few might even have Stryker vehicles, but I doubt it. They will also have crew served and heavy weapons to mount on those vehicles, as well as basic combat loadout for a company of Armored Cavalry Troopers.”

  “How in the world could we overlook something like that?” Nate groaned, eyes closed while he looked upward as if expecting an answer from the heavens.

  “We didn't,” Clay said. “We discounted it because we initially thought we would be looking at a war. In which case all of those units would be activated and probably moved out of the area. What we overlooked, or forgot, was to factor in what effect them still being in the area would have on us.” He looked at Tully.

  “Vic, can those vehicles survive an EMP?”

  “Well,” the stocky trooper considered. “For any battlefield type pulse they might be okay, but against something like what happened to us?” she held her hands up by her sides. “I seriously doubt they would survive it unless they were inside. Now some armories, especially HQ armories and the main depot may have parts in storage that would survive and allow them to get at least a few vehicles moving again even if the Storm did knock them out. But on a local level it's hit or miss.”

  “How hard would it be to raid one of the armories and grab the weapons?” Jose asked.

  “Depends,” Tully shrugged. “Some are tougher than others. A few of the newer installations are probably out of reach for all but the most determined and well-equipped thieves, while some of the older places wouldn't need more than a strong truck and chain. The modern practice was to depend on alarms to protect armory buildings from theft, but with the power gone there's nothing left.” She paused for a moment before continuing.

  “That leaves out whether or not anyone showed up at the armory before the lights went out. They had a few hours warning and you can do a lot in a few hours if you're smart and motivated. If I had been closer and hadn't missed the initial warning I would have gone to the armory in Columbia. There is absolutely no way of knowing how many did just that, or what their specialty is. And while officially access to weapons is restricted, the actual practice is that almost any senior NCO, well…any trusted senior NCO will be able to open the armory.”

  “So basically, there's no way of knowing what we might have to face, if anything at all,” Mitchell summarized.

  “I'm afraid so,” she admitted. “But, not to have seen anything already after so long makes me believe that not many did that. I mean let’s face it. The news tells you the sun is going to explode or whatever, what is your first thought? Most people will think about hunkering down, grabbing food and water, maybe ammunition for weapons they already have, gas for their cars, things like that. Even soldiers probably aren't going to let getting to the armory and grabbing anything be their first thought. Normal soldiers,�
�� she added as Nate Caudell was about to comment. He nodded and stayed quiet.

  “So, we're back where we started with this discussion,” Clay sighed. “Look, there's no point in worrying about all this. Not now. Someone may or may not have taken the opportunity to grab equipment and supplies from an armory. Members of units may or may not have rallied around their armory for safety. We don't know and we can't afford to go look, so we're back to square one. Unless we see a tank or Bradley coming down the road, we’ll have to hope for the best. In the meantime, we do have an immediate threat to consider. There's no doubt or question that Holman will continue to act against us. We have to be on the lookout for almost anything at this point. What have you guys put together?”

  “There's no way to cut us off from water,” Mitchell said. “While they could foul the creek, we don't actually get our water from there. Doing it would also affect the cattle, and they want the cattle for themselves, so it's unlikely.”

  “They can't damage us with any sort of travel denial because we don't need anything and even if we do there's nowhere to get it,” Nate took up the challenge. “There's no point in trying any type of siege tactics. Now they might do it anyway thinking it would have a psy-ops effect on us, but we know that won't work. If anything, it will present an opportunity for us to do that to them.”

  “Psy-ops?” Gordy asked.

  “Psychological Operations,” Victoria supplied for him. “Messing with our heads.”

  “What else?” Clay asked.

  “Snipers,” Jody Thompson said quietly. He was with them while Heath manned the cupola. Someone needed to be watching all the time. “They can ring us with riflemen and take shots of opportunity at anyone in the open. It's what I would do.”

  “Good option,” Clay admitted. “Counters?”

  “Not any,” Thompson shrugged. “This place is too big. We'd need at least a full company to screen it effectively, and even then a good operator could get through. We're keeping a close eye out, and that's about all we can do. They may or may not have anyone in their group that can operate on that level. There's just no way to know for sure.”

  That might have been the longest speech anyone had heard Jody speak.