Daunting Days of Winter

by Ray Gorham

  She skirted along the upper edges of the creek bank as she walked home, noticing that the water levels were climbing a little higher each day, slowly filling the small reservoir the community was in the process of creating. Under Craig Reider’s direction, a dam was being constructed across the creek with the hope of providing extra irrigation water in the summer when the creek flow slowed. Despite the fact it was being done with shovels and wheelbarrows, the work was proceeding quickly.

  The base of the dam was twenty feet thick and built with salvaged concrete from sidewalks and driveways of vacant homes, then back-filled with gravel. A dirt and gravel mixture was being dumped on top of that, filling in the cracks and keeping the water backed up behind it. When completed, the dam would measure nine feet high and pinch off across a section of the creek that was no more than thirty-five feet across. Two sections of twelve-inch irrigation pipe ran through the base of the dam and would be used to allow water to flow through once the reservoir filled, but until then, they were blocked off in order to fill the lake.

  Hurrying to get the milk back to Madison while it was still warm, Jennifer offered a curt smile as she passed two men with rifles slung over their shoulders, who were pushing wheelbarrows loaded with shovels and rakes towards the dam.

  Jennifer had just reached home when she heard a ringing in the distance, like a church bell, a sound that at first she couldn’t place. Then, like a kick to the stomach, the realization hit her. Someone had shot the truck hood that hung from the tree outside the militia house, the one that David had had so much trouble hitting a few weeks before. Someone had sounded the alarm.

  She bounded up the steps and burst through the door. Emma quickly looked up at her while rocking the baby. David raced up from the basement, a rifle in one hand, his boots in the other. “Here, make a bottle,” she said, handing the milk to Emma and grabbing David as he brushed past her. “Where are you going?” she demanded, her voice strained.

  “You heard the alarm, Mom, I have to go.”

  “No, David! I’ve already lost your father. I will not allow you to go. Just stay here and help me protect your brother and sisters.”

  David looked at his mom, no fear in his eyes. “Mom. I can do this. My friends are out there. I need to go help.”

  Jennifer squeezed his arm harder, looking him in the eyes, and felt her chin quiver. “But David, if something happens, I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t know if I can take it.”

  “I’ll be careful, Mom. I promise. But I have to go. There aren’t very many of us, so everyone’s needed. Besides, it’s probably another false alarm. The guys on day shift are too jumpy.”

  Jennifer’s grip loosened, and David pulled away, his face calm. He grabbed his jacket from the front closet and a backpack with three loaded magazines, pulled on his boots, and hurried to the font door. “I do know this isn’t a drill, Mom, so have your gun ready. Hopefully it is a false alarm, but if it’s not…,” he stammered. “Be ready, just in case.”

  David flew out the front door and was gone before the sound of the slamming door quit echoing through Jennifer’s mind, her maternal fears imagining every conceivable threat her son was off to face.

  Emma had the bottle filled and was back on the couch holding the baby close and watching her mother. “I’m scared, mom,” she whispered. “Is he going to be alright?”

  Jennifer tried to fake a smile. “I hope so, Em. I really, really hope so.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Thursday, February 16th

  Deer Creek, MT

  David flew down the street, running as fast as he was able with his gun in one hand and his backpack thrown over his other shoulder. He spotted men coming from two other streets and was overtaken by a man on horseback who galloped past, shouting words of encouragement.

  A garage a half-mile from the militia house, designated as the mustering point after the previous incident made it apparent that the militia house was too close to potential threats, was his destination. David, breathing heavily when he arrived, listened to the men already present as they speculated about the situation, though none of them really knew much of anything.

  David was standing off to the side and trying to catch his breath when someone shouted to quiet the group. Voices quickly went silent, and everyone strained to hear, listening for anything out of place. David heard a low rumbling just as someone blurted out “engines!” Another man confirmed it. “I heard it too. It sounds like more than one.”

  A nervous murmur rumbled through the twenty men who were gathered. Craig Reider, now standing at the front of the group, spoke. “Listen up! Sean has gone ahead to the militia house to find out what he can. He said the rest of us need to be ready for action as soon as he gets back.”

  Craig spent the next few minutes confirming weapons were loaded and ready and everyone was primed to shift into action once Sean returned. David was focused on Craig’s instructions when someone alerted the men. “Here comes Sean, and he’s moving pretty fast.” David turned towards the militia house and saw Sean sprinting down the street. Sometimes the militia jogged around the area to get in shape, but never a full on sprint, and it scared him.

  David felt a hand grab his shoulder, startling him. He jumped as he turned and saw Ty Lewis giving him a reassuring smile.

  “How you doing, David?” Ty asked, his eyes on Sean sprinting towards them.

  “Alright, I guess,” David answered, his attention re-focused on Sean as well. David tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry, like at the end of an August football practice. He licked his lips and waited for Sean to reach them.

  Sean didn’t break stride or slow down, arriving at the mustering point less than two minutes after he was first spotted. The ragtag groups of soldiers watching in silence as Sean hurried towards them.

  Sean slowed to a walk just in front of the garage, fighting to catch his breath as he stepped in front of the group. “Okay…I’m sorry, but this doesn’t look good… From the upstairs window…” he took a couple of deep breaths between each phrase, pushing himself to relay the information as quickly as he could. “I could see a…dump truck and maybe a tour bus…coming down the freeway from Missoula. …with the spotting scope, I could see damage to the vehicles … looked like bullet dings. We won’t know until they get here…but they don’t look friendly.”

  The men shifted anxiously from foot to foot. David was nervous as well, though maybe less so than some of the others, he thought, since he was one of the few people in the group who had actually shot a weapon in combat. Most of the men had done nothing more violent than take down a deer in hunting season, and some of them not even that.

  “This is what I need,” Sean said, finally able to talk without stopping for air. “I need four men to head to the barricade on the road from Missoula on this side of the river. I don’t expect anything to happen there, but we need to be ready just in case. You come and back us up if we get into trouble by the bridge.” Craig indicated a group he had formed before Sean’s arrival, and the men started to leave. Sean called them back, instructing them to wait until all assignments had been made.

  “I want twelve men for the barricades by the bridge, six on each side. You’re our first line of defense. The crew from the militia house already has four men there, so that’ll give us sixteen, plus there are two more upstairs with bigger weapons.” Craig walked through the group, picking out people as Sean spoke, including Ty, who still stood beside David.

  More militia members continued to arrive while Sean gave directions. David estimated that their numbers had grown to over thirty. “I need four to head south to the Shipley Ranch. I don’t anticipate any trouble there, but make sure Bryan and his boys are armed and ready, just in case. Who has the horse?”

  A hand was raised, and Sean pointed at the man. “Is it fast?”

  The man nodded. “She’s young, but she can move.”

  “Good. I need you to stay close to the militia house. Be ready to run messages and respond to gunfi
re anywhere it’s not expected. Who’s a fast runner?”

  No one responded, so David hesitantly stuck his hand up.

  “David, I need you to take the back way to Clinton as quickly as you can. Let them know what’s going on over here. You can take one of the bikes, but with the snow, I don’t know that you’ll be able to ride the whole way. You may have to do some of it on foot. See if they can offer any help, then come back this way down the freeway if they get a group together. That’s a lot of distance to cover, but we need to get word out. Wait and talk to me before you take off.”

  David nodded, feeling his heart already begin to race.

  Sean counted heads. “You six, divide yourselves between the bunkers along the river. Two in each. Stay there unless instructed to reinforce somewhere else. Craig, you stay here. As more show up, I want you sending half of everyone to us at the bridge, then spread the rest out to reinforce.” The deep, steady rumble of the engines was increasing, as was the sense of dread that hung in the air.

  “Alright!” Sean said, raising his voice. “This is what all our drills have been about. We get a chance to protect our homes. I don’t know what’s in store, hopefully it’s a false alarm, but remember, we don’t have unlimited ammo, so if it comes to shooting, shoot to kill. No pray and spray out there, and don’t waste bullets on someone who isn’t a threat. Stay where you’re assigned, unless you’re directed to leave or you can’t hold your position. I don’t know how big this group is that’s coming in. It might be just a couple of folks who are lost, but I doubt it.”

  David looked around at the nervous faces. The group was mostly men in their thirties and forties, though there were a few women and several men whose hair was solid gray. His legs trembled, and the memories of the night on the mountain came rushing back, adding to his anxiety. At least this time I’m not the only one who knows they’re coming, he thought.

  Sean continued speaking to the group. “We need to hurry and get into position. I know most of you have never shot a man before, and it will be really difficult if it comes to that. Remember, these people have come here, to our homes. We’re not doing anything more than defending ourselves, and we’ll do whatever we have to do to defend our families.” He scanned the group, noticing tension, fear, and nervous resolve in his men.

  Someone in the group shouted out, “Try and imagine them with antlers, they’ll be easier to shoot that way.” Sean smiled and several let out a low chuckle.

  “Are we ready?” Sean called out, his voice growing stronger. The group responded half-heartedly, so he repeated, as loudly as he could. “I said, are we ready?!” This time the response was surer, with men waving their rifles in the air, shouting, and cheering.

  “Alright!” Sean rallied, his rifle held over his head. “Then get to your posts, and keep your heads down!”

  The group broke up quickly, with men and women scrambling in different directions. They were all nervous, but there was a confidence as well, earned during the past weeks of training and drilling with the militia.

  David went to Sean and tapped him on the shoulder. “What do I need to do?”

  Sean grabbed David by the elbow. “Have you been the back way to Clinton before?”

  David shook his head.

  “There’s a wood bridge about five miles up that you can get across on. Get there fast and let them know that it looks like an armed group of men are heading through the valley. Have them gather their forces and at the very least prepare a defense. If you hear gunfire and there’s any way they can afford to send reinforcements, have them send men our way through the hills on the North side of the freeway. We’ll take any help we can get, and let them know that if these guys are bad news and head east, we’ll trail them and help push them past Clinton. Just don’t get south of the freeway, I don’t want any friendly fire issues.”

  David made mental notes and nodded at each instruction. “Got it,” he said when Sean finished. As he turned to leave, David felt a tug on his jacket and turned back.

  “Thanks for your help, David,” Sean said warmly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

  “I know,” he said. “But we’re still a part of this community.”

  Sean patted the young man on his shoulder, then motioned towards Clinton with his head. “You better get moving.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Thursday, February 16th

  Deer Creek, MT

  Ty joined the men assigned to the barricades by the bridge, found a place, and took cover. Over the past three months, the militia had worked hard to build two large fortifications on both sides of the road that led across the bridge. The barricades were set back about fifty feet from the river and angled at forty-five degrees to the road and consisted of long embankments that were flanked by ditches in the front and rear. The ditches were shallow but wide, and the dirt that had been excavated from them, along with a variety of other material, had been used to make the earthen berms that rose six feet above ground level and were capped with large tree trunks that lay horizontally along the top.

  From where he knelt, Ty could see the dump truck and an old bus exiting the freeway and maneuvering around the dead cars the militia had placed in the roadway to slow and deter approaching vehicles. Tensions were high with his group, all of whom were watching the vehicles approach as they took cover behind the mammoth tree trunk.

  On the far side of the river, the approaching vehicles came to a stop and shut down their engines, and a group of eighteen people, some dressed in military-style fatigues, exited the bus, joined by two men who climbed out of the dump truck’s cab. Sean had taken up a position a few feet away from Ty and let out a low whistle. “These boys mean business,” he said, loudly enough that everyone in their bunker heard. “But they don’t know who they’re dealing with, do they?” he continued, his voice rising.

  One of the men from the bus retrieved a white flag and held it over his head, waving it back and forth for a few seconds, then began walking towards them across the bridge.

  “Everyone hold your fire!” Sean called out, loud enough for the men at both berms to hear. “Let’s see what they have in mind before we do anything. I want everyone to stay down low so they can’t see what our forces are like, except for a couple people at each berm. You can stick your heads up, so they’ll see you. The rest of you stay out of sight.”

  Ty stood up, volunteering to be visible, and saw the two oldest men at the far berm stand as well, one holding only a .22, the other a handgun. He nervously held his semi-automatic, wondering if it would look too staged if he dropped his rifle and held only his hunting knife. Peering through his riflescope, Ty saw the men on the far side of the river venturing off in groups of two and three to check the abandoned vehicles, but knowing they wouldn’t find anything, as he’d been on one of the teams that had salvaged everything of value and pushed the vehicles into their current positions. Even the fuel tanks at the freeway exit’s gas station had been drained with a siphon hose months ago. Nevertheless, the brazenness of the outsiders made Ty’s heart beat a little faster.

  Once the messenger arrived on their side of the river, he raised a piece of paper in the air, and Sean motioned for Ty to retrieve it. Ty set his weapon down and climbed down the front side of the barricade, then hurried forward to retrieve the note. The messenger sneered confidently at Ty, assessed the men at the barricades, then quickly retreated back across the bridge.

  Ty trotted back and handed the note to Sean, who unfolded the paper and read it to himself before reading it aloud.

  We have no intention of harming anyone, if we don’t have to. Our demands are simple. We require 10,000 rounds of ammunition, 500 pounds of beef, 100 MRE’s or equivalent, and 500 pounds of wheat, beans or other grain. In exchange, you get to live.

  You have 10 minutes to agree to our proposal, after which you will have 2 hours to fulfill our demands. If you choose to resist, we will, like we’ve done in other towns, kill who we need to and take whatever we want, women i
ncluded.

  We are professional soldiers trained to survive. Our group includes Army Rangers, Navy Seals, and Green Beret.

  Choose wisely.

  Sean folded the paper back in half and looked at the militia members around him, their numbers having now swollen to twenty-two between the two barricades. “I’m sorry folks, but I have no intention of agreeing to their terms. Any objections?”

  One of the men near Ty spoke up, his voice shaking. “Some of us, maybe a lot of us, might get killed if we fight them. Sounds like they’re a lot more trained than we are.”

  Sean shook his head. “I don’t buy what their note claims. In my experience, no quality soldier I know would go around the country preying on the weak. Maybe some washouts or wannabes, but no one who was actually a ranger or a seal would. Trust me.”

  Ty felt a great deal of apprehension, and could tell by the expressions of others that they did too.

  Sean looked around, seeing the same, and held up his hand with the note in it. “I know most of you have never taken fire, and it’s a pretty scary thing. But this isn’t just about us. If we don’t stand up to them, where will they be tomorrow? What happens when they ask something of a community who just can’t do it? We’ve got what they want, so they might take it and move on. Or they might decide they want more, until they’ve completely drained us. Then what?” He shook his head. “Some places may have given them what they want, but I say no.”

  “If we can just pay them to go away, why not do that? Seems safer, if you ask me,” one of the younger men implored, his face pale, his hands trembling.

  Ty shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want to get shot, and I sure don’t want to see any of you get hurt, but we have to say no. We’re strong enough to take them on and win. Besides, if we give in to them today, what will they want when they come back in a month? They’ll suck us dry and attack when we’re weaker. I’m not willing to purchase temporary security at the cost of long-term survival.”