by Bobby Akart
Pastor Bryant bowed his head and walked towards the crowd. He took an inordinate amount of time with each person who needed prayer or consolation. After an hour, an agreement was reached.
Chapter 36
Morning, November 14
FEMA Camp Commander’s Office
Fairgrounds Park
Jackson, Tennessee
Coach Carey slowly approached the checkpoint manned by two tan MRAPs and a half-dozen members of the Tennessee National Guard. An MRAP, which stands for mine-resistant ambush protected vehicle, was designed to withstand the blasts of improvised explosive devices. But as the war in Afghanistan was brought to an end, excess military surplus in all forms, from weapons to vehicles, were deployed to National Guard units and law enforcement departments across the country. In light of the violence and unrest that had swept the nation prior to the solar storm, many argued that the militarization of local law enforcement was necessary. Others claimed the presence of MRAPs on America’s streets had a chilling effect on our way of life. In any event, they were now used to protect larger cities, like Jackson, and the FEMA camps contained within.
“Stop! Driver, exit the vehicle and keep your hands in plain view,” ordered a deep female voice over the speaker of a HUMVEE parked behind the RG-33 MRAPs.
Colton rode in the passenger seat of the 1971 Chevy Suburban. Alex and Beau sat in the middle row of the vehicle and turned to keep an eye on the Durhams, who were bound and gagged in the rear row of the truck.
The group debated whether they should have made a reconnaissance trip north into Jackson before venturing out of Savannah with their prisoners. The roads were still considered dangerous and there was the matter of crossing through Decatur County, which had maintained roadblocks of their own at one point. In Colton’s mind, if something went south, they’d execute Ma and Junior on the side of the road and get home safely.
Fortunately, there were no issues as they traveled the sixty miles to Jackson. Now, they were anxious to relieve themselves of the Durhams and start a new life at Shiloh Ranch.
Coach Carey exited the vehicle with his hands high in the air. Two sets of Guardsmen exited the MRAPs and circled their Suburban. The bound and gagged prisoners caught the attention of one of the soldiers, who spoke softly into the microphone clipped to his chest rig.
The female officer who’d addressed them upon arrival emerged from the HUMVEE. She approached Coach Carey.
“State your name and your business,” she said brusquely.
“Acting Mayor Joe Carey of Savannah, Tennessee, ma’am. We’re here to turn over two criminals who should be charged with murder, corruption, and other heinous crimes. We’ve brought affidavits and evidence to turn over to the authorities.”
Without saying a word, she assessed Coach Carey and then walked to the Suburban, where she peered inside. Ma and Junior wiggled and pulled against their restraints in the back of the vehicle.
She took another look at Beau and Alex and then glanced into the front seat, where Colton held two throwaway rifles, as he called them. He’d warned Coach Carey about the martial law order placed into effect days after the grid collapsed. The National Guard had been actively confiscating weapons door-to-door in his neighborhood and Colton didn’t want to lose their best weapons under circumstances like these.
In a wooded stretch of road several miles back, the group stashed their battle weapons and pistols. They each kept an old .22-caliber rifle used for target practice or squirrel huntin’. If the FEMA patrols demanded their weapons, they’d gladly give these up to avoid further scrutiny.
“We’ll need you to turn over your weapons,” the officer began. “They’re in violation of the President’s declaration. Technically speaking, we could confiscate this operating vehicle, but this is one of several models declared by the Department of Homeland Security as persona non grata because it doesn’t meet our minimum fuel consumption requirements.”
“Really? Um, okay,” said Coach Carey. “Thank you for that. I’ll get our guns.”
Coach Carey removed the four rifles and handed them to one of the Guardsmen. He stood by the driver’s door, waiting for further instructions.
“Mayor Carey, follow me closely to our facility at Fairgrounds Park,” he was ordered. “Do not fall back or attempt to travel in any other direction. It will not end well for you, understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied as he quickly slid behind the wheel.
“So far, so good,” whispered Colton.
“I guess,” said Coach Carey. “I get the impression that these folks don’t like to play games. All business. I’m ready to be done with this and get home.”
The HUMVEE rumbled to life and the two vehicles headed toward town. Coach Carey had been to Jackson many times and was familiar with the Fairgrounds. It was a beautiful facility spread out over hundreds of acres adjacent to lakes and ponds. All of the buildings were painted bright white with red metal roofs.
They pulled through another security checkpoint as they turned onto the Fairgrounds. A large banner that read FEMA Region IV Welcomes You hung from two posts. Old Glory flew proudly from one and the Tennessee State Flag from the other.
“This is all new,” stated Coach Carey. “They’ve added the ten-foot-tall chain-link fencing and the razor wire. This appears to be a prison camp more than a refugee facility.”
“I guess that’s good, considering we’re about to drop off two murderers,” added Colton.
The vehicles pulled into a parking area near the entrance to the main building and two Guardsmen quickly approached their vehicles and motioned for them to exit. Everyone in the group was given a pat-down search and Alex’s knife was removed from her leg sheath. They placed it on the dashboard for her to retrieve as they left.
The back doors to the Suburban were opened and the Durhams were wrestled out of their seats. Alex and Beau carried the two file boxes full of affidavits and documents providing the incriminatory evidence on the Durhams.
“Follow us,” gruffed one of the Guardsmen.
Inside the building, there was very little activity. The reception area resembled the visitors’ welcome center of any small town. There were images of men and women wearing matching blue jean uniforms working on equipment or maintaining gardens. There were more images of soldiers having friendly interaction with women and children. Everything was designed to portray peace and harmony within the confines of the FEMA camp.
“Hello, folks,” started an officer in a tidy military uniform. “I’m Major Don Scott, acting Commander of FEMA Camp Jackson. Welcome.”
The major extended his hand to the group and then his eyes furrowed as he studied the bound prisoners.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” said Colton. “We don’t want to take up too much of your time. We’re turning these prisoners over to be prosecuted for the crimes of murder, extortion, abuse of public office, kidnapping, false imprisonment, and anything else you can determine is appropriate. These boxes are filled with supporting documentation and affidavits for your use in prosecuting them.”
“Well, okay,” said the major. “Corporal, lock them up in holding cells eight and nine. Take the documentation to my office so I can review it.”
Both Durhams protested and attempted to pull away from the Guardsmen. Their voices were muffled by the gags placed in their mouths on the trip up. The group had barely cleared the Savannah city limits when they agreed the Durhams would drive them crazy with their sharp tongues on the hour-plus trip to Jackson, so Beau volunteered the sleeves off his tee shirt to gag them.
Junior got a little rough with one of the Guardsmen and earned himself a shove in the back and a crash face-first into the floor. He was dragged out of the room by the two remaining guards.
“Thank you, Major,” said Coach Carey. “As acting mayor until we can hold elections next week, I wasn’t sure if bringing them here was the right thing to do. A decision had to be made and it appears we made the right one.”
“I get it, Mayor, especially the acting part,” said the major. “We’ve received reports of the activities in Savannah, but frankly, we don’t have the manpower to police areas outside of our mission. Jackson, as you know, is located halfway between Nashville and Memphis, so we get a lot of traffic off the interstate. This is only one facility that we maintain here. The other two are at Union University and the Jackson-Madison County Hospital in town.”
“It sounds like you’re spread out all over town,” said Colton.
“We are and we’ve been shorthanded from the git-go. As Memphis and Nashville descended into anarchy, more of our men were shifted there. In fact, I’ve been designated for reassignment to Nashville myself. I’m simply waiting for my replacement to arrive with a fresh set of troops.”
“How are things in Nashville?” asked Colton. Alex, who had been studying the room and watching activities outside the windows, moved closer to her dad.
“Stabilizing,” the major replied. “All the mid-to-large cities in America fell apart quickly. Gangs formed and looters ran roughshod through the neighborhoods. Fortunately, the National Guard was prepared in Nashville and we clamped down hard. We’ve added several more facilities to house the residents and soon the cleanup will begin.”
“Cleanup?” asked Alex.
“Yes,” the major replied. “Much of South Nashville went up in flames. Belle Meade mansion was lost to fire. Very sad.”
Colton and Alex looked at each other. Alex began to tear up and Colton quickly held her.
“They lived in that area,” said Coach Carey.
“I’m sorry, folks,” said the major. “I didn’t mean to bring you bad news. I mean, your home might’ve been spared. I wish I could tell you for sure one way or the other.”
“That’s okay, Major,” said Colton, who extended his hand to shake. “Thanks for your help today. I think we’ll be on our way now, if that’s all right.”
“Sure, folks, and thank you. I’ll turn all of this over to the new commander as soon as he arrives.”
Chapter 37
Evening, November 15
Main House
Shiloh Ranch
“They want me to be a county commissioner,” announced Jake as everyone took their seats around the dining room table. “Well, actually, they wanted Colton, but since he’s not a landowner, he wasn’t eligible.
“That’s fine by me,” added Colton. “I have no interest in politics. Besides, it’s a dangerous sport.”
“In any event, as a county commissioner, I can keep an eye on what they’re doing in Savannah and maybe even sway some opinions, if necessary,” said Jake. “I don’t really want to be heavily involved in Savannah’s business, but I feel being on the inside will at least give us a heads-up if they’re moving in the wrong direction.”
Madison set plates in front of everyone as Bessie and Emily carried out bowls of mashed potatoes, carrots, and collard greens. She added her thoughts. “Maybe things will be different now. I mean, won’t Americans eventually get settled in and realize that we have a chance for a do-over. A new start for our country based upon the teachings of the Bible and following the Constitution.”
“I hope so,” said Emily. “Do you think it’s possible that the solar flare was God’s way of cleaning house? I mean, it’s crossed my mind, anyway.”
“It’s hard to say, Emily,” replied Colton. “I do believe that America will be rebuilt from the bottom up. Small-town America and the rural communities will lead the way in providing a better life for everyone. The cities had become too large and too dependent on government to run things. I’d be willing to bet that the vast majority of casualties of this disaster have been in the large metropolitan areas, not places like Hardin County.”
“Getting rid of the Durhams was a huge step in restoring order and moving forward,” said Jake. “There will be some growing pains, but I’m optimistic.”
Everyone got settled in their seats as the warm food produced steam rising through the candlelight.
“Jake, would you say grace?” asked Emily with a smile.
Jake gave thanks for their meal, their health, the health of all their neighbors, and the love this extended family shared.
Alex began eating, taking in everyone’s opinions. She noticed that Stubby looked in her direction several times and finally she returned his glances. Something is on Stubby’s mind.
“So, Stubby, what do you think of our future?” asked Alex, deliberately putting him on the spot. The two had learned to read one another and Alex wanted to beat him to the punch. Like Stubby, she was not so optimistic about their future.
“Well,” he began, “we’re definitely better off since we’ve removed that cancer from Savannah. They have elections coming up, as Jake said, and some kind of normal lifestyle can be achieved. The key is organizing the non-producers and providing them a way to contribute to this new society. There are many who are used to receiving from the government. Now, they all have to help make Savannah a better place to live and contribute to necessities like food production, hygiene, and security.”
“Who’s gonna be the new sheriff?” asked Alex.
“That’s still up in the air until the election,” replied Jake. “Coach Carey is a shoe-in for mayor, and the pastor’s wife, Leslie, will be the vice-mayor. The leaders for sheriff include a former deputy who returned after the Durhams were run out of town. He never liked Junior, and when the solar storm hit, he retreated to his ranch in the far eastern end of the county. I think his name is Stanford.”
“We need to distribute the guns to everyone that won’t be needed by his department,” said Alex. “You know, just in case.”
“I don’t think we’ll have a repeat of the Durhams, honey,” said Madison reassuringly. “Mr. Carey and Mrs. Bryant would never let that happen.”
“It’s not them that I’m worried about,” said Alex. “We learned in Jackson that the cities are no longer safe. We’ve already seen refugees in the past month. There may be more on the way. If everyone is armed, then they have a better chance of protecting themselves, and the town, if necessary.”
Stubby nodded imperceptibly.
Jake pushed his plate away from his belly so that he could rest his elbows on the table. “We’re all going to Savannah on Sunday for the election and the barter market afterwards. I’ll bring this up to Coach Carey. It might not be a bad idea to create a small army of citizen deputies.”
Stubby continued to probe her mind, so Alex decided to let her opinion be known about the FEMA camp in Jackson. Something had been bothering her since they left and she wanted to digest the news about Nashville without clouding her judgment about what she’d observed in Jackson.
“Also,” Alex continued, “something was off up there. The commander, his offices, the whole thing seemed suspicious.”
“Whadya mean, Allie-Cat?” asked Colton. “The major couldn’t have been nicer and more helpful. I didn’t see any signs of trouble.”
“Everything was too perfect, Daddy. For one thing, I didn’t see any refugees. Looking through the windows toward some of the pavilions, there were tons of military equipment and supplies stacked neatly. I saw soldiers taking inventory or organizing pallets. I believe this was their headquarters and the reception area was designed to create an illusion for anyone who entered.”
“What kind of illusion, Alex?” asked Madison.
“The kind that sucks people into a false sense of security. I would like to see where they house the happy campers shown in those pictures. The images were staged, phony. It reminded me of the pictures they took of us when we helped at Big Brothers, Big Sisters in Nashville. They posed us. Just like the FEMA camp pictures.”
Stubby cleared his throat. “Propaganda.”
“Exactly,” said Alex.
“Maybe they’re trying to repair their image?” asked Madison. “Remember, we didn’t hear many good things about the Nashville FEMA camps.”
Alex contemplated this for a
moment, but her gut screamed to her that something was wrong. “Or their attempting to hide what’s behind the curtain.”
Chapter 38
Afternoon, November 18
Election Day
Court Square
Savannah
It was a beautiful Sunday in Savannah as folks attended church services around town and then made their way to Court Square. It was election day and the good folks of Hardin County would be choosing their leadership team to replace the tyrannical bunch led by the Durhams.
The decision to remove them from the jail turned into a plus for the psyche of the town. They no longer had to worry about voter intimidation and the ballot-box stuffing of the past. They were no longer afraid to leave their homes and interact with their neighbors.
Today, they’d be making their voices heard on who should operate their government. They would be voting on seven county commissioners, a sheriff, a vice-mayor, and a mayor. There weren’t many candidates on the ballot and the vote was pretty much a formality to legally bestow power upon the individuals running for a formal title. It was the symbolism of free and open elections, and the freedom to assemble in the heart of town uninhibited by threats from others, that helped lift this town off its knees.
The vote took place from noon to four o’clock, during which time the first barter market was opened for business. The spectacle of bartering drew a crowd as much as the process itself. Most people didn’t think they had anything of value anymore. Junior and his men had stripped them of their dignity and any wealth.
At first, the trading was awkward because both buyers and sellers were new to the concept. Without money as a medium of exchange, goods and services were traded based upon perceived value. One man, a former roofer offering his services, proposed to repair a hole in a man’s shed in exchange for a gold watch. That deal went nowhere.