Righteous Gathering: Book 1 of the Righteous Survival EMP Saga

by Timothy Van Sickel

  Mark has helped Herc through many tough times, given him a chance when no one else would. And Herc has stood by Mark, worked hard, and been loyal. Herc will not let this threat pass lightly.

  Word comes through that several farms have been hit hard, starting the day before. The men killed, and the women gone. Livestock killed for no reason, but some of it taken. The random killings on the main roads have slowed down, but every once in a while a truck or a few bikes will pull up and pop off a few rounds. A few less well defended roadblocks have had satchel charges thrown at them, exploding violently. Three people have been killed in these roadblock attacks.

  Nerves are on edge. People's families are out there where the savages are pillaging. The loss of the Fire Chief and the slaughter at the renegades' compound has had a chilling effect. Even with the defenses the town has set up, people feel helpless. The convoy to Central City is a rallying call, a way to establish some control. It is decided that four trucks and a few off-road bikes will make up the convoy. That many trucks are needed to help take people back to their homes. That many people have been stranded in town. Some people want to be dropped off at their homes, some have made it clear that they want to pick up their families and bring them back to town, to safety. The bikes are to move fast and act as a forward patrol. Herc is in the second truck in line. They are to go all the way to Central City, along with the truck behind them. He is riding shotgun, Leesa and John Jr. are in the back of the truck. Sandbags have been laid along the sides of the bed to give them some protection.

  A few miles out of town their scout reports back that there is a farm on fire ahead of them. They had stopped to check it out, and heard gunfire. The leader of the convoy has them move forward at top speed hoping to help this farmer that may still be under attack. Their timing is almost perfect, almost. They see a bike heading away from them as they turn a bend in the road. They crest a hill and see a farmhouse on fire, two trucks heading out of the drive led by the bike. There are several people running about the farmyard, emerging from fighting positions, shooting at the retreating raiders.

  The convoy pulls in the drive, and cheers go up from the farmstead. But the attention is quickly turned to the house that is fully engulfed in flames. It is quickly determined that the house is lost, but that the out buildings need to be saved. The men and women in the convoy begin to try to save the out buildings and barn, some start to attend to a woman and child, burned and wounded in the raid.

  A raider party had been stopped, five lives saved. The convoy leader offers them a ride to Central City, but they are pissed and determined. An abandoned house trailer on the property will be their new home. They are not leaving their farm, their land. The convoy spends over an hour at the farmstead. Herc has them set up security first, then they proceed to evaluating and helping as they can, getting the story of what happened.

  It is mid-afternoon by the time they head out. A strong thunderstorm rolls through as they make the last few miles to Central City. They see some houses that look abandoned. They see some farms clearly being defended, even a few tractors out harvesting corn and hay. They drop a few people off at their homes and farms. A truck stops at a doctor’s home, and his wife and kids are picked up. They all head back to the safety of Hooversville. Another truck peals off at a country road to take a wife and kids to a home they have not seen in three days. Finally, late that afternoon, what is left of the convoy rolls up on a serious roadblock just outside of Central City.

  The convoy stops short of the roadblock, and as the two parties meet, hugs are exchanged, some tears are shed. The convoy is passed through and led to a large church parking lot. There the scene is controlled chaos. Stragglers hope for a way forward. A few people of authority, including some vets forming a civilian army, are pumping the convoy crew for information. Many people just want news, news from the rest of the world, news from their neighbors, news from a cousin or brother; has Hooversville been attacked by the savages, have they heard from any other towns? The questions come in floods.

  A tall wiry man, with a stern face but bright eyes, steps into the crowd that has formed around the convoy. "Calm down, people, calm down. Let's welcome our guests with some food and water. Let’s give them some space." His commanding voice quiets the crowd, and they start to move back. One straggler continues to demand to be heard, and questions the newcomers, but a stern look from the tall man sends him back to his group, under a pop-up pavilion at the edge of the large parking lot.

  The tall wiry man continues to politely separate the convoy people from the rest of the townsfolk and stragglers. He and a strongly built squat man, with some tattoos on his arm, manage to get the newcomers aside. Several other people with military bearing are helping to keep people calm and organized.

  The tall man addresses the people from the convoy. "I'm John Fisher. I seem to have been pressed back into my country's service, due to the present circumstances. I have been asked by some prominent local folks to help us through this current situation. The situation I refer to is not just the power outage, but the raiding going on by the anarchists. It's a wonder that you have made it here! These barbarians have been shooting up the roads, looting and killing.

  "I pulled you all aside, so we can hear what's going on out there. We need to stop these bastards. Just so you all know, I'm a retired First Sergeant form the 101st Airborne Division. My friend here has eight years of Marine Corps service and there are many other vets here who are looking to set things right, to stop the violence. So you all convoyed up here from Hooversville? I want to hear what's going on, how you got here."

  Eight people begin talking at once, fire chief killed, ambushes, pharmacy raided, farms raided. In a loud but calm voice, John quiets them all down. "Who is in charge of the convoy?" The trucker steps forward. John proceeds to debrief him, and the entire group, including Herc. The picture painted is one of chaos, but there are bright spots. The towns are organizing and it seems the barbarians have been dealt a few set backs. That the barbarians seem to have C4 explosives and a 60 cal machine gun is alarming. The death of Fire Chief Speigle is more alarming, along with the attached note.

  Forty-five minutes later, the group disperses. Herc looks around for his girl and boy, wondering what comes next. He still needs to make it to Mark's farm. Despite all the efforts of the locals to normalize things, he is surrounded by chaos, rumors and panic. He can't even find the guy who said he would get him to Mark's farm. He feels a tug at his arm and turns to see the squat Marine vet.

  "You been through a lot to get here. You're quiet, but you know more and have seen more than you're saying. Top, I mean John, would like to talk to you some more. We may want you to help us out in beating back these meth heads." They talk a bit more as the Marine leads him to where John has set up a command post. The Marine points out where Leesa and John Jr. are being fed and taken care of by another member of the paramilitary group. They exchange a wave and a wink.

  At Sergeant Fisher's impromptu CP, welcoming exchanges are made. The First Seargent, also known asTop, asks in more detail about what went on in Moxham and the two gun battles there. Herc cries as he relates the grief of the loss of his parents and brother once again, but his determination and grit are laid bare as well, as he describes his journey this far. Top stays stoic through the tale, but is disturbed at the extent that Johnstown has fallen into chaos. He also inquires more deeply into Herc's relationship with Mark Mays. Top ends up convinced that Herc is a true man, looking out for his family and friends, and also a dangerous man, one he needs as an ally.

  "The note, with the threat against Mark, one of the drivers brought it with him. It needs to be taken seriously. We have heard others who have survived raids talk about the barbarians asking about the guy in the old green and white van with the trailer. That's your boss, that's Mark. He fought back against them first, and his group killed this barbarian's boys. These threats are serious. We need to let him know, and we need to help him out. I've heard about how he started
helping the town get ready, from day one, for the chaos we now see. That kind of foresight and generosity cannot be forgotten."

  The day is starting to get late, and storm clouds are brewing to the west, dark thunder clouds billowing from the heat and humidity of the early fall day. Herc agrees to take Top and a few other men in a two truck convoy the few miles out to Mark's farm. They hurry to try and beat the storm. Top issues a few orders to his paramilitary group before he loads up for the trip out to the farmstead.

  Twenty minutes later, the rainstorm catches up to the small convoy as they slow to turn onto the country lane that leads back to the farmstead. They hear a loud bell ringing in the distance, as they pass the vacant house on the corner of the county road and the country lane. Herc hollers for them to stop. "Mark ain't no dumb ass, he knows we're here." He yells over the storm raging around them. "Top, you and me better walk in from here."

  The two trucks stop fifty yards off the county road, the abandoned house to their right and cornfields on their left. The lane goes straight over a rise and nothing else can be seen. The rain begins to come down in torrents as lightning strikes nearby. The wind whips the cornfields and distant trees. "How can he know we're here? There's nothing here. Where are we headed to anyway?" The First Sergeant begins to look a Herc suspiciously.

  "You hear that bell? You think it's recess time?" Herc responds indigjantly. "I don't know how he knows, but he knows. Maybe a scout in the field, or someone in a tree. Mark is no dumb ass. He got a sweet setup back there, and he won’t let that go without a fight. Let's just walk back, and see what's up. He's a good guy, trust me on this. We roll up with two trucks of armed men and women, and we'll be walking into a gun battle."

  John thinks for a bit, looks at Herc, and then nods his head. "Everything I've heard about this guy, he is different. That bell is ringing for a reason. Okay, lets' walk up and see what's going on. But I am not walking up there unarmed."

  "You walk up there unarmed, and he'll think it's a trap. I'm going up there armed, and he's my best friend in the world right now. Besides that, I work for him. If I show up unarmed, he'll probably bitch at me for not being ready to go to work!" Herc laughs at his own joke, which goes over Top's head. "You got a white flag to wave, an old rag or a bandana?" They find an old rag and Herc ties it to his 30/30. He lets Leesa know they are walking in, as the first sergeant talks with his guys. Herc again reassures them that it is all good. The bell has stopped ringing by this time, but the rain and thunder continue.

  Soaked to the bone, the tall stern white man, and the shorter stocky black man head down the muddy gravel lane, soon engulfed by eight foot high corn stalks on either side. A few hundred yards down the narrow lane, the outlines of the old farmhouse come into view. As they top a rise in the road, they see the big Dodge truck blocking the lane. Herc raises the white flag higher, and waves it back and forth. He asks John to put his hands up as they walk the final few hundred yards to the small roadblock. The farmhouse becomes more distinct through the heavy rain as they get closer. A loud and commanding voice bellows from the farmhouse. "Halt and state your business."

  Herc, knowing the loud voice, hollers back. "It's Herc, and a friend, Mark. I got Leesa and John Jr. with me. This guy is an Army Ranger, he's helped me get here." They see movement on the porch. They wait a bit.

  "Herc? Is that you?" responds the loud voice from the porch.

  "Yessiree, boss! Alive and well! Got a friend with me and more in some trucks on the road."

  "You and your friend, come on up. The trucks have to stay where they are for now."

  The rain has already started to slow down, and the sky is growing lighter. The farmhouse comes more fully into view. Top and Herc approach the house, walking around the truck parked broadside in the lane. As they round the front bumper of the truck, Mark runs off the porch and gives Herc a huge bear hug, not a man hug, a full blown loving hug. Herc hugs him back. Both get a little teary eyed as they step back, and eye each other up.

  "I can’t believe you're here! I saw Moxham on fire, I saw the chaos! Oh my God! Praise the Lord!" Mark hugs his faithful employee of fifteen years again, more tears welling in his eyes. "Let’s get out of this rain, come up on the porch." Mark beckons them to follow him.

  Up on the porch, Ken, Linc and Larson are at ready arms, behind their new sandbagged firing positions. Mark tells them to stay alert, as introductions are made. "First Sergeant, huh? Back in my day, you would be called Top. That still a tradition?" The First Sergeant grins and nods.

  Top and Herc are both impressed with the fortifications they had made just that day. Mark questions Sergeant Fisher, gets his background, and why he is there. He is satisfied that all is good, and allows for them to bring their two trucks in, but they are not to be allowed in the house, or to roam the property. Herc sprints back to the trucks, and his family, to let them know they can come on up.

  The First Sergeant is a little miffed at Mark's restrictions, and Mark can tell. "John, this is my property, and it is none of your business what is on my property. I just met you, and I will consider you a friend. I will help you in anyway I can, but you have to live by my rules on my property. Times have changed. I can't trust any stranger walking on to my land with free range to see what we may have, and how we are defended. You have to understand that. You can see that we are not helpless. We can be an ally, but I must look after my family first. Would you allow a stranger and his group to roam freely around your headquarters, see your defenses, your supplies?" John nods in understanding, seeing that he is dealing with someone who has common sense and military tact.

  "Britt," I holler, "Bring up some sandwiches from the rest of that bread you made today. And have Becca bring up some cider." I hear her moving from the upstairs, and head out the back door.

  "You drink bourbon, Top?"

  "I wouldn't mind wetting my lips." His stern look softens a bit as he sees our hospitality towards them is genuine.

  "Ken, bring out a bottle of Maker's Mark, not the cheap stuff, Okay? Bring some glasses, too." Ken looks at me warily, as he turns towards the door. I nod at him trying to indicate that it's okay. He is understandably wary, with two truckloads of armed men coming down the driveway.

  By the time the two trucks get to our roadblock, the late summer storm has passed. Leesa, Herc and John Jr. jump out with their meager belongings and come up on the porch, wide eyed. We exchange hugs. Janie points out a few comfortable chairs for them. She tries to get them to talk with her, but they are exhausted and in a bit of shock. She offers them water and tells them food is on the way, trying to comfort them, welcome them.

  Ken returns with some glasses and a prized bottle of bourbon. He pours two glasses, two fingers each, and returns to his ready position. "Herc, you care for some Maker's Mark, too?" I ask looking at where he is sitting, and beckoning him over. His eyes brighten.

  "Yessiree, boss!" he exclaims, He tries to make a quick and agile move to join us, but fails miserably. He laughs at himself. "Been a tough few days, Mark, ain't moving as fast as I'd like." He shuffles over as I pour another two-finger glass.

  I look at Top and Herc as I raise my glass, "Here's to new friends, and long journeys." We all take a good strong sip. "So what's going on in Central City, since I left yesterday? Things seemed to be starting to shape up."

  "I understand you helped initiate some of the programs to move the stragglers through and to beef up the roadblocks. I have to thank you for that," says Top. "I came on the scene yesterday, soon after the meth head turncoat and his girlfriend showed up. We've been gathering vets and other strong men and women to put together a militia, for lack of a better term. The meth heads have quieted down a bit, but are still causing problems, especially outside of town. Farms are getting hit, as is anyone on the roads, unless they are in a convoy. And our roadblocks have been harassed. Your man showed up on a convoy from Hooversville. They took a serious hit this morning. Two renegades came in fast, backed up by some serious firepower and manage
d to throw two satchel charges at one of their roadblocks. Two young men got killed, and they blew two trucks to bits. They also rolled up and dropped a message for us, or more to the point, for you."

  "Huh, what do the meth heads want with me?"

  "Seems you and yours killed two of their leader's sons. They put a bounty on your head. They want you dead."