by Bobby Akart
By sheer coincidence, Jake, Emily, and their teenage son Chase happened to be at their two hundred acre cattle ranch located on the west bank of the Tennessee River in Hardin County. Shiloh Ranch, which was maintained by Stubby Crump and his wife, Bessie, was ideally suited for bugging out. Over the past couple of years, Stubby and Jake had added dairy cows, extensive gardening, and alternative-energy sources with an eye towards off-grid living. Their steps toward sustainability and self-reliance paid off when the power grid collapsed at Zero Hour.
The Rymans quickly assimilated into the extended family at Shiloh Ranch and a normal routine was established. One of the aspects of life in a post-collapse world was foraging. The inner debate between looting and foraging will always be a part of the prepper conundrum. The same applied to the activities of Chase and Alex who had become a team. They would explore areas within the Shiloh / Pittsburg Landing area to find empty homes and requisite supplies.
Their rules were simple—only get what we need and be careful. Rule one was followed but rule number two, be careful, was difficult for teenage Chase to abide by. Whether it was because he was trying to impress the pretty girl, or because he was raised largely unrestrained, Chase pushed the envelope constantly. In a world where danger lurks in the form of your fellow man, unnecessary risks could get you killed.
Although Colton assumed that Junior Durham was angry over the Ryman’s escape from Savannah, he didn’t expect it to become an obsession. For Junior, he’d become determined to find the Rymans and punish them for embarrassing him. Determination turned to obsession, which then became all that matters.
When Chase and Alex let down their guard and placed themselves in a compromising position, Junior’s men pounced and kidnapped Alex. She was taken to Savannah where Junior tormented her. The women of Savannah had not fared well since the blackout. Junior and his friends were sadistic. Alex faced a certain fate.
But a rescue effort contrived by ex-Army Ranger Stubby, together with the assistance of the Ryman’s rescuers—the Tiger Resistance led by Coach Joe Carey and his sons Beau, Jimbo, and Clay, was mounted to save Alex. The plan was working flawlessly when the wild card inserted itself into the game.
Chase, perhaps wanting to make up for the mistake that put Alex in harm’s way, or in an effort to be the big hero, once again threw caution to the wind. In the chaos and darkness which surrounded Cherry Mansion during the rescue effort, he undertook an ill-advised shot in Alex’s direction.
He missed his target, the two men who were dragging Alex towards Junior’s home, but ruptured a propane tank instead. His second shot punctured two nearby gas cans. His final shot ignited the fuel mix creating an explosion that sent fire into the darkness and which engulfed Junior’s bungalow on the Cherry Mansion property.
The scene was surreal as the devastation froze all the participants in the battle, except one. One who was watched through the eyes of Ma Durham and her new companion—the spirit of a Civil War hero.
From Shiloh Ranch …
Burgundy. It was Hardin County Tigers burgundy. Number 1. Gunfire continued to fill the night air from all directions. The young man was undeterred. He’d reached his destination. Briefly, he crouched down and lifted up a lifeless body.
Number 1 began running towards the neighborhood to Ma’s left. He was fired upon but escaped unscathed with the blonde hair of the young woman flowing over his shoulder.
Ma stared into the fire, mesmerized. The roof of Junior’s home collapsed to the ground, causing a rush of sparks and flames to gush out in all directions. Despite the intense heat created by the burning home and the surrounding vegetation, a chill came over her body. Ma unconsciously balled up her fists, unaware that a figure had joined her in the window. It wasn’t Junior.
It was an aberration — a ghost who had been in a similar position one hundred fifty years before. The hissing sounds coming from the flames provided a voice for Union Major General William Wallace, who whispered in Ma’s ear.
Fight fire with fire. Fight fire with fire.
Ma gritted her teeth and set her jaw. She mumbled the words but only loud enough for General Wallace to hear.
“When you poke the hornets’ nest, ya better make dang sure you kill ’em all. If you don’t, you’re gonna suffer their wrath.”
The saga continues in — HORNET’S NEST
Epigraph
Irritabis Crabones
You will stir up hornets.
~ Plautus
*****
Some say that by fighting the terrorists abroad since September the 11th, we only stir up a hornets' nest. But the terrorists who struck that day were stirred up already. If America wasn’t fighting terrorists in Iraq and Afghanistan and elsewhere, what would these thousands of killers do - suddenly begin leading productive lives of service and charity? We are dealing here with killers who have made the death of Americans the calling of their lives.
~ George W. Bush.
*****
The firing on that fort will inaugurate a civil war greater than any the world has yet seen and you will lose us every friend at the North. You will wantonly strike a hornet's nest which extends from mountains to ocean. Legions now quiet will swarm out and sting us to death. It is unnecessary. It puts us in the wrong. It is fatal.
~ Robert Toombs, arguing against the Confederate’s attack on Fort Sumter
*****
The only place you’ll find fairness is in the dictionary and the only place you’ll find justice is in Heaven.
~ Stubby Crump
*****
Rangers lead the way!
*****
Because you never know when the day before
is the day before.
Prepare for tomorrow!
Chapter 1
Moments after Midnight
November 2
Cherry Mansion
Savannah, Tennessee
Beau Carey led Jimbo and Clay through the thicket of trees that shielded Cherry Mansion from Highway 64 to its south. It took less than a minute for Beau to find a line of sight to the rear of the property where Junior’s bungalow was located.
Like tigers stalking their prey, the boys moved from tree to tree, avoiding detection. But they never took their eyes off Alex, who was being dragged along by two of Junior Durham’s thugs barely one hundred feet away. The men, both armed with weapons hanging over their shoulders from a sling, manhandled Alex as she squirmed and wriggled out of their grasps.
“Whadya think, Beau?” asked Jimbo, the oldest of the Bennett twins by all of a few moments.
“I don’t see anyone between them and the house,” replied Beau as he craned his neck above some shrubbery while looking for signs of Junior as well. “Should we try to take them or wait for the signal?”
Before either of the Bennetts could answer, Beau’s father provided the response.
Tiger Tails, Tiger Tails, KICKOFF!
The sounds of explosions and gunfire filled the air. Instinctively, the boys hit the ground and crawled on their bellies to get a better look at the hundred-yard span between Cherry Mansion and Junior’s bungalow.
Alex shrieked loudly as the world erupted around her. Startled, the men pulling her along shoved her down and readied their weapons. Confusion set in as they spun in all directions, openly exposed to incoming fire.
Beau sprang out of his crouch, ready to run to the sound of Alex’s cry, but he caught himself and knelt back down. He whispered to the guys, “They’d gun us down in a second if we came at them. Let’s cut them off by moving closer to Junior’s house.”
Beau’s voice was calm. He was intense, adrenaline flowing through his body, but there was no panic. Alex had been on his mind since the moment they met. He joked with his boys about how he couldn’t help but fall in love with a girl who’d greeted him with a gun at the back of his head and the promise of death if he moved.
There was something about her. She was very pretty, but that wasn’t what attracted Beau to Alex. He tho
ught of it night after night as he wondered where she’d gone with her family. Then one day it came to him. It was her confidence. Alex was the type of person who made a decision and stood by it. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself or for what she thought was right. This required courage and intestinal fortitude, a trait few people had anymore.
He pushed aside the personal feelings he’d developed for Alex and concentrated on the problem. His dad had taught the team the importance of focusing on the task at hand. High school athletics created a learning process designed to teach young people dedication, determination, and discipline. This applied to sports as well as life.
Suddenly, two of Junior’s men raced across the lawn towards the river. The boats were heard through the cracks of gunfire. Alex’s captors were distracted. When they hesitated briefly, seemingly choosing between the mansion and the bungalow, Beau saw his window of opportunity.
He led his fellow members of the Tiger Resistance in a low crawl through the brush, scraping their hands in the process. Beau’s eyes shifted between Junior’s house and Alex, constantly calculating the distance and time. He was trying to maintain awareness of the men at the entrance to Cherry Mansion and the possible return of Junior to assist with Alex. The men continued to drag an uncooperative Alex through a flower bed and yoked her up by the arms, causing her to groan.
They’d closed to within only fifty feet when the gunshots rang out. The first one sailed to their right, striking the propane tank and creating a loud hissing sound.
CRACK! TING! HISS!
CRACK!
Another shot ripped a hole through two gas cans before embedding in the wood-framed house. Beau frantically searched for the source of the gunfire. He halted his progress and held his arms to the sides to prevent Jimbo and Clay from continuing. He approached with caution. A few steps forward and they would be in the line of fire.
CRACK! TING! BOOM!
The eruption caused by the final shot forced both ends out of the propane tank. The concave-shaped disks blasted through the shrubs, and one embedded in the trunk of a tree to the boys’ rear. A fireball rose into the air, igniting the trees in flames and smothering Junior’s bungalow in fire.
Through the smoke and carnage, Beau regained his position, unaware that a small smoldering magnolia branch was on the back of his burgundy Hardin County Tigers sweatshirt. He searched for a sign of Alex but couldn’t see her.
“If I can’t see them, they can’t see me,” he muttered to the Bennetts, who had joined his side. “You guys ready?”
“Dang straight, QB1,” said Jimbo, using Beau’s title as starting quarterback for the school’s football team. One was also his jersey number.
“I’ll get Alex; you two take out Junior’s boys. Can you do that?”
“We’ll do what we gotta do,” said Jimbo as he pulled a knife from a sheath tied to his leg.
“Let’s go,” said Beau as he darted into the clearing to the point where Alex was seen last. Burning tree branches were scattered in their path and the fiery leaves floated from above him, which in this surreal moment reminded Beau of those Chinese sky lanterns he’d seen in the Olympics.
He stumbled and fell over one of the men who lay unconscious from the blast. Beau landed on his belly and quickly hopped into a crouch. Where’s Alex?
Beau dashed towards Junior’s house, ducking under a burning tree branch, until he found Alex. She wasn’t moving. Is she alive?
“Alex! Alex!” Beau implored her to respond. Nothing.
A man was sprawled out on the ground to his right. His jacket was on fire and he was groaning. In a blur, Jimbo appeared out of the darkness and pounced on the man. He put the dying attack dog out of his misery.
“Is she okay?” asked Jimbo as he wiped the blood off his knife.
“I don’t know,” replied Beau.
“Go! Take her to the hospital. We’ll cover you.”
Both of the boys jerked their head toward Junior’s place as the roof of the bungalow began to collapse from a large tree limb that fell on its peak. Beau scooped Alex up in his arms. Carrying her lifeless body, he ran like the wind as sparks of fire gushed out of the house, resembling the celebratory fireworks at the end of a big win for the Tigers.
Except this wasn’t a win—it was only the kickoff.
Chapter 2
1:00 a.m., November 2
Hardin Medical Center
Savannah
Beau was out of breath as he lowered the unconscious body of Alex into the backseat of the car. As he’d regained his presence of mind while running through the streets of Savannah to their hidden vehicle, he felt for Alex’s pulse. It was weak, but she was alive.
He knew enough about sports injuries to realize that Alex had a concussion. Heck, his ears were still ringing from the exploding propane tank. Alex was much closer to the center of the blast and fortunately wasn’t near the ends, which, by design, always bore the brunt of the outward force.
As he frantically drove toward the Hardin Medical Center, two of Junior’s men raced in the opposite direction toward Cherry Mansion. With the multiple distractions employed by his father, Beau felt certain that he could make it through town undeterred. Further, he hoped that Junior’s men would be pulled off guard duty to assist in the fight on the west side of the town.
He was correct, in part. Ordinarily, at least two heavily armed guards would cover the entrance of the medical center, together with one at each of the other two entrances marked Ambulance and Emergency. Tonight, luck was starting to come his way.
He chose the ER, as it was the furthest door away from where a lone armed guard stood. As Beau wound his way through the incapacitated vehicles due to the solar storm, the guard perked up and began walking towards him. When he stopped short of the ER entrance and began to slowly roll forward, the guard unshouldered his rifle and began to run toward the Careys’ old Chevy. Beau made a decision.
“Hold on,” he said to the unconscious Alex. Beau gunned the engine and lurched towards the guard. The man’s reflexes at this late hour were slow and he fired two shots wildly into the pavement between them.
Spit! Spit!
Before he could fire another round from the suppressed AR-15, his body was tumbling over the hood of the Chevy and onto the roof before falling off to the side.
The guard’s legs were broken and his knees were crushed. He lay helpless on the ground, moaning. Beau grabbed the prized rifle and the man’s nine-millimeter pistol. Then he dragged his body between two parked cars.
“Sorry, bud,” Beau said to the man as he pulled some duct tape out of the glove box and taped his mouth closed. Then he tied his hands behind his back but didn’t bother with the legs. He wasn’t going anywhere on those busted-up twigs. “Someone will find you soon enough.”
Beau located a wheelchair and gently placed Alex in it. Then he quickly parked the car in the lot so it would blend in with the others. He entered the ER doors with the AR-15 raised and prepared to shoot any of Junior’s men who showed themselves.
A single nurse hid behind the desk inside the facility. “Please don’t shoot me!”
“What?” stammered Beau when he realized he was pointing the weapon at her. “I’m not going to shoot you. This is an emergency. My friend needs help!”
The nurse rose from behind the reception desk and relaxed. She immediately admonished Beau. “Sir, you can’t come this way. Everyone must be approved by the guards and checked in through admissions.”
“She’s unconscious,” said Beau, ignoring the instructions. “She has a concussion and needs a doctor. Now!”
“Young man,” the nurse said with condescension, “that’s not how things are done anymore. Everyone must be approved by the deputies. You must leave and go through the front entrance.”
“There’s no time! Please!”
Heavy footsteps could be heard running down the corridor from Beau’s left. It was dark, as the emergency lighting only illuminated workstations. He quickly put h
is body between Alex and the approaching figure. He fell to one knee, pulled the charging handle on the rifle, and steadied his aim on the center of the silhouette.
“What’s happening here?” said a man wearing a white coat as he emerged into the dimly lit opening. His tennis shoes immediately squeaked as he stopped and raised his arms. “Whoa, okay. No need to shoot the only doctor on duty tonight!”
Beau obliged and shouldered the rifle. “Doctor, there was an explosion. My friend was close to the propane tank and it knocked her unconscious. Please help her!”
The doctor approached and the nurse worked her way from behind the desk. “Nurse Sutton, let’s get this young lady into an emergency room and check her vitals. Son, my name is Dr. Jeff Fulcher. Let’s see what we can do, but I have to warn you, there’s a sheriff’s deputy stationed outside the entrance to the medical center. He will take issue with us bypassing their protocols.”
“Not tonight, he won’t,” Beau said as he wheeled Alex toward an examination room.
Dr. Fulcher shrugged and helped Beau place Alex on the table. While the nurse checked vitals, the doctor examined Alex for other signs of trauma. Fortunately, there weren’t any.
Then he turned his attention to Alex’s head injury. “Has she regained consciousness at all? Any moans or groans? Opening of the eyes? Movement of fingers or arms?”
“No, sir.”
He examined her eyes, ears, and nose. “There aren’t any signs of fluids coming from her ears or nose. I don’t see any abnormal eye movements and her pupils are of equal size. That’s good. She clearly has a concussion. Let’s see if we can wake her up.”
First he examined her neck and back to look for any obvious signs of a spinal injury. Satisfied there was none, the doctor carefully rolled Alex onto her side. The doctor placed one of her arms across her chest and then he bent her top leg at a right angle to her hip. Gently, he tilted her head back to insure that Alex’s airway stayed open.