Hornet's Nest: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction Series (The Blackout Series Book 5)

by Bobby Akart

  “Kinda gives you the chills, doesn’t it?” asked Jake.

  “It sure does,” replied Colton. “History had lost its importance in America, or it was diminished somewhere along the line.”

  “I agree,” said Stubby as he unlocked the front doors to allow a rush of cold, fresh air to enter the building. With the two doors open on both ends, a nice breeze swept across them. “History’s important because it tells us how we got here. It also can guide us in our decision making. What we face is a fittin’ example. We’re going to fight an enemy on the very soil where two major armies fought one another over one hundred fifty years ago.”

  “Yeah,” started Jake, running his fingers along a map posted on the wall. “Do you think it’s symbolic that we’re fighting on the Confederate side of the skirmish line?”

  “In terms of what?” asked Colton. “Political ideology?”

  “No.” Jake chuckled. “I was thinking more in terms of winning and losing. Grant had reinforcements that outgunned the Rebs. The Union, whose army was on Junior’s side of the line, won the battle.”

  Stubby joined the men at the map. “They did, but only because the rebel advancement got bogged down here, at the Hornet’s Nest.”

  The sound of a car approaching caused the guys to abandon the conversation and ready their rifles. Peering through the windows, they watched as two vehicles slowly made their way down the gravel entry to a parking space in front of the building. Two groups of men exited the vehicle, led by Russ Hilton, providing everyone a sense of relief.

  Colton was the first to greet his old friend. “Welcome to Shiloh!”

  “Hey, Colton!” Russ bellowed back. “I’ve got some other folks with me that you haven’t met.”

  A man in his early fifties extended his hand to Colton. “My name is Ben Arnold, and this is my son, Bennie. We have a place up on Hooker’s Bend, about halfway between here and Saltillo.”

  “Colton Ryman, and my friends Jake and Stubby. It’s nice to meet you both and thanks for coming.” Colton noticed that neither Mr. Arnold nor his son was armed. Considering the world they lived in, that seemed odd to Colton.

  More introductions were made as the landowners from north of Highway 64 arrived first and wound their way through the visitors’ center. More neighbors began to find their way to the meeting until everyone who was expected to be there took up seats in the theater, which showed the award-winning film SHILOH: Fiery Trail to the park’s visitors. Today, Stubby would describe the reenactment of this famous battle, except the participants were sitting in this room.

  Over the next hour, he described the various scenarios and received input from the attendees who lived toward the north. Stubby knew the geography well, having lived in the area all of his life. He was, however, unfamiliar with many of the residents.

  “I regret that I haven’t spent any time up in your neck of the woods to meet you folks before,” said Stubby at one point. “I know your land and, finally, under these unusual circumstances, I’ve come to know you folks.”

  Stubby began to roll up his maps when an arm was raised in the back of the darkened screen room. It was Mr. Arnold’s son, Bennie. “Have you considered talking with the sheriff? Maybe some type of compromise can be worked out?”

  “We’ve thought about that,” said Stubby. Prior to the meeting, Jake and Colton agreed that Stubby would take the lead on all of this. He’d be respected as being ex-military and a longtime resident of the region. “The Durhams have shown no desire to be reasonable on any matter. Their approach, as you all know from the Adamsville massacre, is shock and awe, my way or the highway. No, sadly, they only respect force.”

  The young man persisted. “That’s what’s wrong with this world. Everybody just wants to fight. There’s never an interest in reasonable minds having a discussion.”

  Russ chimed in. “Listen, I tried to talk to Junior and then his cohort Bill Cherry on two different occasions. Junior burned down Old Man Percy’s house, maybe with him in it. We can’t find the old codger. As for Cherry, he demanded that we give up some people on the run that weren’t in Saltillo. To scare us, he showed us a picture of an innocent woman hanging from a tree branch. Trust me, they’re not interested in compromise.”

  The attendees began to mumble among themselves and Stubby saw that the meeting had reached an end. It was time to send everyone on their way to get prepared. He still had a long day ahead with Chase and Alex at Croft Dairies.

  “Okay, you know your assignments regarding scouts and communications,” said Stubby. “When Junior’s men make their move, don’t hesitate to notify your neighbors to get ready. To our north, set up your defensive positions along Coffee Landing and Saltillo Road. Those of us in the south will hold the line at Highway 22 and then farther south at Pittsburg Landing. Remember, if we can’t split Junior’s men in two, then we’ll try to box them in to prevent their retreat across the bridge. Otherwise, we’ll try to push them as far west as we can, where we can circle in behind them to cut off their access to the bridge. Everybody clear?”

  “How will we know when it’s time?” asked one of the property owners from the north side.

  “First, you’ll hear the sniper fire. The sound of your neighbor’s fifty-caliber weapon is unmistakable. Second, we’ll be raising you on the handheld ham radios we gave some of you earlier. Radio operators will spread the word face-to-face. Got it?”

  “Got it!”

  “We’ll be ready!” yelled John Wyatt.

  “Keep us posted by radio!” said Russ Hilton.

  Everyone shook hands as they exited the building. Jake and Colton each took up a seat on the park benches on the front porch of the building. For several minutes, Stubby stood with his hands on his hips, watching as the last car pulled out of the park entrance.

  “Stubby, whatcha thinkin’?” asked Jake.

  “I’m thinkin’ it’s all we’ve got.”

  Chapter 23

  Afternoon, November 9

  Croft Dairies

  Nixon

  The skies were becoming overcast and the wind was picking up as the trio comprised of Chase, Alex, and Stubby made their way toward the dock of Croft Dairies. Whitecaps could be seen up and down the river as a beautiful sunny morning turned into a more typically damp, cold late fall afternoon. Even before Rhoda and two of her girls tied the flat-bottom boat off on the posts, Stubby decided that an evening return to Shiloh Ranch was out of the question. He regretted the need to make these frantic, last-minute preparations, but the coming storm could be seen as a sign of things to come.

  “Here ya go,” said Chase as he handed over the ammo cans and gun bags. “They’re really heavy, but if we don’t get them out of here first, the boat might flip with all of us going overboard.”

  Stubby was the last to disembark and pushed himself up from the deck. This cold weather didn’t suit his old bones. He removed his 75th Ranger Regiment cap and wiped the raindrops off his face. I’m gettin’ too old for this. Then he laughed at himself for the fact that this was about to become much worse.

  “Welcome back, Stubby,” greeted Rhoda. “I look forward to the day when we can all get together and talk about dairy cows or old war stories rather than the ones yet to be created.”

  “Don’t I know it,” said Stubby, who bent down to pick up the military-style duffle bag, but Chase quickly took it and slung it over his shoulder. “Thanks, Chase.”

  Chase walked well ahead of the two stragglers and Alex was already out of sight with two of the girls from Savannah. Stubby and Rhoda ambled up the hill toward the house as the rain stopped.

  “Why don’t you stay the night, Stubby?” asked Rhoda. “It’s gonna get powerful nasty out here on the river as the evening sets in. I promise I’ll let you and Alex spend as much time with the girls as you need. I’ve already arranged for the other farms to be here for a meet-and-greet with Chase.”

  “I’m glad you asked. We have a lot of ground to cover in addition to some basic weapons t
raining. These are things that can be handled in the evening hours. The more time I can spend with the girls and Chase, the better.”

  Rhoda cleared her throat and then asked Stubby, “Several of the girls were asking questions about Chase. Beau filled them in on what happened the night Alex got injured. They’re concerned about Chase’s ability as a leader and as an older guy surrounded by teenage girls. Are you completely comfortable with his ability to stay focused and avoid trouble?”

  Stubby nodded and slowed them down as they reached the corner of the house. “These are all legitimate concerns that I’ve covered with Alex at length and then with his parents before they made the decision to let him do this.”

  “Alex approves?” asked Rhoda.

  “Absolutely. In fact, it was her idea. She will, at some point, discuss this issue with the girls directly. Chase has admitted to being awkward around girls because he thought their sole interest in him was Jake’s notoriety as a famous country musician. Alex claims he has never done anything out of line while they were working together and, with the proper encouragement, will be an excellent choice to get this important aspect of the operation prepared.”

  “What’s our role in all of this?” asked Rhoda.

  “I’ll explain this evening, but I believe it’s a winning strategy.”

  For the remaining daylight hours, Chase and Alex, under the watchful eye of Stubby, trained those with little gun experience on the proper use of firearms. Using .22-caliber weapons, Alex led the handgun training while Chase focused on rifles.

  Although Alex was the better shot between the two, Chase had never fired a handgun on a regular basis. Alex recalled all of the details of the practice sessions her family had engaged in while at Harding Place.

  Overall, Stubby was pleased with the progress and especially the fact that the girls were not squeamish around the weapons. He commended Rhoda on handpicking young women who would be ready to fight rather than run and put the rest of the group at risk.

  Their actual role would be better defined when the group from Nixon met up with Coach Carey and the Tiger Resistance. In the meantime, Stubby would have them trained, to an extent, but also prepare them mentally for the battle ahead—the latter being critical to their success.

  As darkness set in, Stubby informed Bessie that they would be staying the night and she promised to inform him of any signs of Junior. Despite a house full of teenage girls and one handsome guy, Rhoda’s home was remarkably serious and solemn that evening.

  Alex was making the rounds after dinner, taking plenty of time to get to know each girl. Chase, appearing to relish his role as commander of this unit, did the same. Stubby didn’t see any hint of bravado on the part of Chase, and Alex seemed to have the full attention of everyone she interacted with. Stubby couldn’t have hoped for better.

  “Everyone, may I have your attention, please,” started Stubby as he climbed a couple of stairs in the foyer in order to better address the group. “I wanna say thank you to Miss Rhoda for feeding us this fantastic bean soup with biscuits. On a dank, clammy night like this, hot soup and fresh buttermilk biscuits really hit the spot.”

  The rest of the girls filed into the spacious foyer and now Stubby had everyone’s attention. “You guys did great today. I was very impressed with your seriousness. Learning to handle a weapon isn’t fun or glamorous. A mistake can get you killed. We’ll have some more training in the morning before Alex and I return to Shiloh. Chase will then take all of you through some live-fire drills he and I designed. Shooting on the move is much different than having your feet planted and pointing at a target. Chase and Alex have practiced these types of drills. The practice time tomorrow will be invaluable.”

  “Are you able to tell us the plan now?” asked one of the girls in the front.

  “I will, but I need to tell you a little about what to expect,” replied Stubby. “Your involvement in our mission will not be like a gun battle you might see in a movie. You will be pairing up with your friends, like Beau, to undertake guerilla warfare.”

  “Like in the jungle?” asked a girl from the rear, drawing a few snickers.

  “In the past, guerilla warfare may have been fought in the jungle, but not in our case,” replied Stubby. “We plan to draw the bulk of Junior’s men across the bridge into West Hardin County. Once that happens, several scenarios could be played out and we’ve tried to account for each of them. You guys, on the other hand, will use paramilitary tactics like ambushes, creating distractions, and hit-and-run sabotage to aggravate the men Junior left behind to protect Savannah. Working with Coach Carey and the Tiger Resistance, you’ll be able to move faster, in the shadows, and aggravate the piss out of ’em.”

  Everyone began laughing at the reference by the crusty old warrior. It wasn’t Stubby’s intention to make them laugh, that was just the way he spoke. But he was pleased to see that their attitudes were loose and confident.

  “Why do we need the guns?”

  “Just in case,” Stubby replied. “We’re going to catch Junior and his people off guard. In fact, he might not even be there as y’all start your mission. Unlike a battlefield, which is what we’ll face across the river, victories for you guys include taking out individual guards or securing strategic buildings. In essence, while the cat’s away, the mice will play.”

  “Yeah!” was shouted by several of the young girls as they exchanged high fives.

  “I love your enthusiasm,” said Stubby. “Let me mention one more thing before we sit down and discuss your local knowledge of Savannah. Guerilla warfare is not about being an expert marksman or the ability to overpower your opponent. You fight smart, like in a chess match, where you use distraction and other methods to gain an advantage over your opponent.”

  “Hey, I play chess,” said one particularly studious young woman in the group. “In chess, we use gambits to gain an advantage.”

  “Exactly, very good,” said Stubby. “Like any good chess player, Coach Carey will evaluate the board, or in this case, the conditions on the ground before he makes any moves. Across the river, we are employing a gambit-like strategy. Our plan is to lure Junior and the bulk of his men away from Savannah by giving ground. Hopefully, this will make them think they have an easy route to infiltrating the west side of the river. Our goal is to divide them. If we can’t divide them, then we’ll steer them to one side of the highway or the other and then close off the bridge behind them. This will cut off their reinforcements and retreat.”

  “What will we be doing while that’s going on?”

  “We’ll be taking out his men, one by one if necessary. We’ll try to commandeer specific buildings of importance like the Detention Center, the hospital, and if possible, Cherry Mansion.”

  “You mean we get to capture the queen?” asked the chess player in the group.

  “Yeah, but she’s mine,” said Alex without emotion, or argument from anyone in the room.

  Chapter 24

  Just after dawn

  Veterans Day, November 11

  The Bridge

  Savannah

  Every battle had its stories, both told and untold. Throughout history, as one man tried to exert his dominance over another for a myriad of reasons, heroes were lauded with accolades, and others were rewarded with martyrdom. But the untold stories of battles won and lost tilted the scales of victory to one side or another.

  Colton and Alex lay prone under a makeshift tent created by a camouflage-pattern tarp and some paracord. Their sleeping bags provided the padding necessary to avoid becoming completely soaked by the rain-soaked ground beneath them. The fitful night’s sleep was conducive to the task at hand, but after they’d received word that there was a significant amount of activity on the town square of Savannah, Colton and Alex knew what they had to do.

  With Snowflake loaded down with her rifles, ammo, and camping gear, Alex rode slowly through the woods of Shiloh’s historic battlefields, taking in the aura it produced. She inhaled the hidden scents o
f battle—the cries of the wounded, the moans of the dying, and the cheers of the victors. Her vision of the events of the Battle of Shiloh rolled through her dreams as she tossed and turned to get comfortable on an Indian Mound holding the dead of battles past. If Alex didn’t believe in ghosts before, she certainly did now.

  “They’re removing the barricades on the outbound lane of the bridge,” said Alex as her steady hands held the rifle’s scope tight to her eye. “The right lane barricades are too permanent.”

  “I’m glad they’re on that side of the bridge,” said Colton. “We can steer them toward the north and away from us.”

  “I’d rather take the fight to them, on our terms,” mumbled Alex.

  Her father didn’t respond.

  “Okay, Daddy. They’re loading up in the cars. It’s time.”

  “Charlie One, this is Juliette One. Over,” said Colton into the handheld ham radio. Charlie One, or Charlie Koch, had a number of deer hides with a clear line of sight to the highway. He’d been alerted to the activity the day before and was ready.

  “Roger, Juliette One, I see.”

  “He’s a man of few words,” said Colton.

  “Bessie said the world would be a better place if more men were like that,” quipped Alex.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, Daddy,” replied Alex. “I’ve got a dozen men on foot and at least eight vehicles approaching the bridge from town. They’re coming.”

  Colton cued the mic again. “Alpha One, do you copy?”

  Static came across the radio and then Stubby’s familiar voice filled the air. “Five by five, Juliette One. Sitrep.”

  “Eight vehicles, fully loaded. Another dozen men on foot. They’re beginning to slowly cross the bridge.”

  “Roger that. Hit ’em straight, Juliette. Out.”