Surviving in America: Under Siege 2nd Edition

by Paul Andrulis

  There were two actual 'lists' in use. The first list was a means to segregate those who were liable to resist, and it was the main priority. The people on the first list were branded as terrorists and then targeted days before the rest, so as to curb suspicion and encourage assistance from the general population.

  The second list were those individuals who were slated as excess population, part of the second phase of the operation for compliance with the U.N. world population reduction agenda. This list included most of the population of the United States.

  The few remaining people not on any list were either servants of the powerbrokers, were deemed valuable due to their degrees in science, agriculture, or engineering, or were slated to be slaves for the ruling elite.

  Everyone else was expendable…a useless eater.

  Something in the plan had obviously failed miserably in Great Bend, as it had also in L.A. and many other cities.

  Contrary to the beliefs of the ruling elite, most people are not stupid. There is a difference between someone not wanting to see something, and the inability to discern it. People had just not desired to believe what was going on. When it became impossible to ignore, these people became very, very angry.

  During the atrocity, one principle would emerge as clear as crystal and hard as diamond, Americans are Americans.

  Skin color didn't matter. Neither age, country of origin, nor the origin of a person’s parents mattered. Everyone now had the same amount in the bank. That amount of money was precisely zero. People of various creeds, social standing, wealth, and origins fought the tyranny side by side with the same ferocious resolve, demonstrating conclusively both their patriotism and a new found unity of spirit.

  People who had immigrated and were naturalized strove equally hard alongside those who had been American since birth. Many of both sides became heroes, dying as patriots. They all proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were Americans where it actually counted; they were American in their hearts.

  Equally proven was that merely being born in America did not make you a patriot. This unfortunate fact was demonstrated conclusively by those who knowingly went along with the plan and its execution. Ultimately their excuses did not matter.

  …..................................

  Joe and Zeb both noted that the outside of the store had been ravaged, but mostly by nature. The windows had been smashed and torn package remains lay strewn everywhere, as animals had entered the store searching out the glorious smell of ripening meat.

  Animals like buffalo, elk, and deer had for a short time been attracted by the smell of over-ripe vegetables and bread. When the meat spoiled, it drew the carnivores that wrecked most everything the large, powerful, and clumsy herbivores had left.

  Inside the store, they noted a few items remaining for future reference. They also noted items which were missing.

  “Animals can’t chew through tin cans, can they?” Hitch asked.

  “Animals don’t bother with canned goods Hitch. They can’t smell the food inside,” Joe replied.

  “This isle is for canned soup. Where is all of it?”

  A quick search demonstrated that canned items of most every type were largely missing.

  “Two legged critters,” Zeb stated.

  “Has to be. There are other survivors living somewhere close,” Joe replied.

  “They may not have reason to trust anyone in uniform, so it’s no surprise we haven’t seen anyone. Be careful and keep your eyes open. They might mistake us for bad guys.”

  The small volume of cans still on the shelves combined with the amount of entire cases of food still shrink wrapped in the store room denoted a huge potential future food source for many people. The storeroom was relatively untouched from what Joe could tell, as hundreds of boxes were neatly organized and stacked. Others were open and half empty on metal carts, the contents ready to be stacked on shelves. He took a few mental notes, and then ordered Zeb to have a basic inventory done. When it came time to help out the survivors, it would all be needed.

  They gathered only what they figured they needed of the canned vegetables, and a few more canned stews and such for their return as they had originally planned for a one night trip and were running out of supplies. Joe decided to go a few more blocks to the Wal-Mart, as the farm desperately needed a new chain saw, a ladder, rope, and some other basic tool items.

  Tenth street was the main business drag in Great Bend, and driving down it was an experience in and of itself. For any experienced drivers, having a five lane road completely to themselves is somewhat unnerving. No other cars or human life were in evidence, excepting the occasional small line of cars parked in neat rows illegally next to the curb and blocking the right lane.

  The Wal-Mart store was another matter entirely in comparison to the previous two stores they had visited. It was a real mess. Mess was the only word which truly fit the situation in Joe's mind.

  Evidence abounded of a major military struggle having been waged at this store. The massive building had been hit hard, probably by tanks. Numerous cars were in the parking lot, and much of the pavement was cracked and splintered. Tread marks and impressions in the tarmac testified to massive weight loads which it was not designed to sustain.

  Whatever had happened had not been one sided though, as seven military Hummers were starting to rust in the parking lot, bullet holes of numerous calibers having left their mark. Large blood stains on the ground were the only remaining indication of a previous death. Any bodily remains had been removed, either by men or by nature.

  Blackened and gaping holes in the front of the store told a story of large ordinance having been employed. The remains of concrete and brick walls mixed with the glass and aluminum entrance where the majority of the heavy shell fire had been concentrated. Elsewhere in the side of the building, occasional large holes testified of rounds trying unsuccessfully to knock down the building.

  Zeb smiled at the sight.

  “They lost, but good for them. This is one batch that did not go quietly into the dark night,” he said, waxing darkly poetic.

  They still needed supplies. Zeb knew that, though the building was damaged severely, the supplies themselves might still be in good shape.

  “Nicolson! You and Cross are on point. Check out the store. Daniels and Hitch, inspect the Hummers in the parking lot for anything usable.”

  Daniels and Hitch returned quickly.

  “They left in a big hurry. Left three cans of fifty caliber, two cans of small arms ammo, and the extra barrels for two changes each on the fifties. By the stains around and next to the Hummers, they tried to retrieve some stuff but paid heavy for everything,” Daniels reported.

  “The holes look to be everything from tiny seventeen caliber to twelve gauge slug dents, and everything in between. Must have been a hail of bullets coming from the store,”

  After a half hour Nicolson and Cross returned from exploring the inside of the store.

  “Man oh man it is a mess in there. Reminded me of Damascus,” Cross stated.

  “The shells that took out the storefront were relatively small, probably twenty to forty millimeter, but some were evidently H.E. The guys in the store really ticked off someone,” Nicolson reported.

  “Bodies and guns everywhere at all of the entrances. Most of the guns still have price tags on them! Pallets of ammo still on jacks. Bodies wearing Wal-Mart vests with box cutters opening the cases for the customers who were shooting. That is what I could make out by the looks of it.”

  “This must have been world war three,” Cross said with a whistle.

  “Sir. Lawn and garden and hardware both look to be relatively fine. H.E. shells destroyed everything from the grocery section all the way to the clothing section. What we need missed the primary explosions I think. Blast waves knocked over shelving units in some places, but hardware and the lawn and garden sections were far enough from the action,” Nicolson detailed.

  “The warehouse area has a
few dead, but from small arms only. Guarding the rear door I think.”

  “I don't know if it matters much, but the baby section was relatively intact. There are tons of canned formula and stuff if we come across anybody needing some,” Cross added.

  “Find everything on our list. Let’s round it up, load it up, and go. Daylight is burning,” Joe stated to Zeb.

  They found and then loaded most everything on their need list. Joe had also found a used Schrade lock-back which he removed from the sheath on the dead body to which it was still attached and slid it in his. For no reason other than he had always put it on every morning, Joe still had his old knife sheath on his belt.

  He covered the body with bricks so it wouldn't be scavenged by animals.

  “Thanks for the knife bud. This is the most I can do for you right now,” Joe stated afterwards to the impromptu brick cairn.

  Joe then paused to find a few things not on the list. He made a pile of ammo for the various hunting rifles they still had, a full case of each caliber. He also set aside two still functioning small caliber hunting rifles which they didn't have back at the farm.

  In the front entrance he found one Ruger twenty-two caliber rifle and a Remington in seventeen caliber with a badly scraped stock. He found a case of ammo for the twenty-two, but could only find half a case for the seventeen. The rest of the rifles within sight had either seen too much weather or had been ruined in the fighting.

  One large caliber bolt action they had found must have been close to the impact of a H.E. shell, as it had been flung across the massive store and then had wrapped itself around one of the massive steel roof support pillars which were spaced evenly throughout the store.

  The more they saw, the more everyone wanted to know exactly the events that had unfolded here. This store had its own story to tell, and from the looks of the place, the story was an epic. The men here had put up some serious resistance to an overwhelming force.

  Midwest ingenuity combined with solid core values had surfaced in this town. The story of Great Bend was far from over. Great Bend had far more in store for them.

  What the men had seen so far had given them only a glimpse of the city’s manifold secrets.

  25. (Old, New, Borrowed, Blue)

  Joe was driving as the Hummer approached the bend in tenth street. He was forced to slam on the brakes. The Humvee quickly skidded to a halt with the tires chirping in protest. The road had been barricaded and was effectively blocked.

  The barricade itself was made out of two lines of cars stacked two wide and four high, which completely blocked the road with a veritable steel wall. Four Semis, two huge forklifts, and a couple of Concrete trucks were parked at the blockage with their bumpers solidly rammed into the line of cars.

  “There’s our concrete trucks, dang it,” Zeb groaned.

  The reason for the massive barricade was easy to spot. Three unbelievably massive Abrams tanks were sitting on tenth. The machines of destruction were discolored, no paint remaining on the top half of the tracked behemoths. The turrets all looked somewhat strange, as if they were slightly warped somehow.

  The hatches on two of the turrets were wide open. The third tank turret looked as if it had no hatch at all remaining on the machine. To Zeb it almost looked like fire damage or maybe explosives.

  “What in the sam heck?”

  Joe just stared with a look of astonishment on his face as it was the first time he had seen such a massive tank except in the movies. He had seen an antique Sherman tank at a museum before, but in comparison the old WWII Sherman was a pipsqueak.

  “That’s not a tank… This is a tank,” he said jokingly.

  The strangeness of the situation was compounded by several odd wooden vehicles mounted with car wheels that were laying around. The things were both smashed and burnt, and located on the side of the barricade opposite the huge tanks.

  Joe went around a concrete truck and he smiled. One was still fairly intact, so he went to examine it.

  “Nicolson and Hitch, you are on point. Scout the immediate area. I don’t trust this. Treat it as a combat zone and stay so frosty your underwear is icy,” Zeb ordered.

  “Nah! Surely not,” Joe said out loud to himself, examining the strange device.

  It looking like something out of a cheesy low budget movie.

  “What you got there Joe?” asked Zeb

  “Catapult, by the looks of it. A home-made catapult,” Joe replied, somewhat puzzled.

  Zeb came over, and looked for himself, trusting Joe but not quite believing he had heard the man correctly.

  “Sure enough. Odd design though. Wonder what they were doing with it,” Zeb replied.

  Cross, their explosives expert, called to them from across the street.

  “Found some unexploded ordinance here! I.E.D.”

  “Be careful!”, Zeb yelled.

  Zeb and Joe trotted over to take a look.

  What they saw was technically an I.E.D., or Improvised Explosive Device. Quite simply, the device was a large metal can filled with some now leaking grayish powder.

  Cross had slung his weapon over his shoulder and was bent over the device examining it. The rifle chose this moment to whip around with the barrel slamming into the can. Thankfully nothing went boom. Cross was ashen faced, and stayed perfectly still for a moment. Frowning like he had found a fly in his soup, Zeb gave the soldier a hard stare.

  Joe thought Cross was going to need a new pair of underwear.

  The rifle and stayed against the homebrew bomb at an odd angle, actually sticking to the device.

  “What the…” Cross stated.

  “Well I'll be a monkeys uncle, it’s a magnetic mine. I also think I know what this gray powder is. It should be safe to move”

  Cross had to slide the barrel of his weapon to the edge of the can. Then by pushing with his feet and pulling on the weapon at the same time freed the steel barrel from the highly magnetized tin can.

  “Some serious pull. This I have to see.”

  Cross carefully disconnected the simple firing mechanism which had malfunctioned, and then carefully opened the can and poured out the powder. Most of the material poured out, except for a thick remnant sticking to a couple of rather large magnets in the bottom of the can.

  “I know what this stuff is for sure now. That is iron oxide sticking to the magnet. This has to be some home-brew thermite,” he blurted.

  Using his gloves, he wiped a small portion of the magnet free of the black powder which had separated from the rest due to the magnetism.

  “From the color of the material, my guess is a brute of a neodymium magnet too.”

  “Five in total, approximately one and a half by two inches. Maybe half an inch thick.”

  Joe smiled at hearing the description.

  “Someone was building a wind generator. Probably have hundred and fifty to two hundred pound pull for each magnet,” he replied.

  “I wanted to get a mess of those for my farm at one point in time myself.”

  Zeb was impressed. The device incorporated some serious ingenuity.

  “Took a while to make those, so at least they had some warning. What would you guess. Fifty pounds of the stuff in that can?” Zeb asked.

  “Looks like around that estimate. Definitely pretty heavy,” Cross replied

  “Still not enough to take out an Abrams though.”

  “Yes it is,” Zeb stated bluntly, looking at the three dead tanks, now understanding their odd look,.

  “Don't have to burn through the armor Cross, just make it hot enough to cook on. Overloads the environmental control units. They quit, and the guys inside have to get out or fry with the machine.”

  The missing hatch on one of the three tanks across the barricade attested to his description as this tank had cooked off an H.E. shell inside its storage bay, blowing all of the hatches off of the monster tank.

  “What took out the catapults then?” Joe asked.

  “Not catapults. Catapults
throw rocks. Old school magnetic anti-tank mine launchers,” Zeb replied.

  “To answer your question, a chopper took them out. Probably an Apache using twenty millimeter rounds by the looks of the road,”

  Joe scouted the area with his eyes, looking for any more amazing sights.

  “And there it is,” Joe enjoined, pointing to a burnt building across the intersection and to the right.

  A huge hole was in the top of the building. Unnamable pieces of material were scattered everywhere. Out of the top of the roof stuck a large black mass, and one warped flat black 'something' arched into the lonely blue sky.