by Reed, N. C.
“That it is,” Gordy agreed, getting to his feet. “Let’s go, then. We can ride the fences. For that matter, we can ride the perimeter. That’ll keep Greg from having to do it and give us a good workout.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Heath commented. “You coming, Zach?”
“You bet.”
-
Clay Sanders waited on the pad in front of Building Two as the lone Hummer pulled into the drive of his farm’s equipment road. This particular Hummer was becoming a frequent visitor these days, as Captain Lake Adcock came by to confer with Clay and the others.
This visit, however, was unscheduled. That alone wasn’t problematic, but it meant that something had happened that was outside of their new ordinary. Maybe it wasn’t bad, but it was enough to warrant Adcock’s visit.
“Afternoon, Captain,” Clay smiled as Adcock stepped down from his vehicle. “And Lieutenant,” he added as First Lieutenant Triana Flores exited the rear seat while Sergeant First Class Shaun Gleason exited the driver’s door. “And Sergeant.”
“Hello, Clay,” Adcock smiled. “Good to see you, man.”
“Same to you guys,” Clay replied, hoping that would be true.
“Think you can put us up for the night?” Adcock asked, indicating himself and his subordinates. “Got a lot to talk about and plan. Assuming you have the time,” he added.
“I think we can manage, somehow,” Clay agreed. “You want to come inside or sit out here?”
“Outside is fine, I should think,” Adcock chose. He took a seat at the table in front of Building Two, joined by his subordinates who waited for him to be seated. Clay stepped inside to ask Janice Hardy to bring a pitcher of ice water and four glasses before joining them at the table.
“So, what’s going on out there in the wide world?” Clay asked. Janice arrived before Adcock could answer, bearing a tray with the requested items.
“Here you are, Mister Clay,” she smiled brightly. “Hello,” she said to the three soldiers collectively. “Do you need anything else, Mister Clay?” she asked.
“Would you mind informing Troy House they’ll have three more for dinner, and for breakfast in the morning?” Clay smiled at the teen.
“Of course!” she beamed. “I’ll do that now!” With that she bounded away, hurrying to take care of his request.
“She seems awfully happy,” Flores noted. “Considering, I mean.”
“Her life has actually improved since the world stopped,” Clay informed the young officer. “She’s probably living better, and definitely safer, than at any time in her life up until she came here.”
“That says a lot about both,” Adcock mused. “Both her treatment before, and the care you’ve given her since.” He raised his water glass in silent salute before draining half of it.
“She’s remarkably resilient,” Clay commented. “So, back to what brings you guys around,” he got back on track.
“I’ve been discussing what we talked about with Major Whitten,” Adcock informed him. “He’s given his approval for your idea in full. He did add a suggestion that we try and locate hardware for your new buildings in any abandoned stores. That’s something we can and will assist with. But your idea about trading labor for riding lessons went over well. So well, in fact, that he’s mentioning it to other outfits like yours that have the numbers to help with it. So, good idea,” he lifted his glass again.
“Thanks,” Clay laughed lightly.
“I was right about the division of labor, too,” Adcock continued. “I’ve been assigned as the commander for this district, which includes your county and the two neighboring counties to the east, which of course includes Lewiston. All are relatively rural with small populations, so he estimates my group should be enough to cover it. Officially, anyway,” he added wryly. “Unofficially, we all know that’s just so much bovine fecal matter, but it may as well be accurate since it’s all we can do.”
“Nicest way I’ve heard that put in a while,” Clay chuckled. “So, what is the final disposition, then?”
“We’ll be posting four fire teams here at your farm,” Adcock told him. “Sixteen men, with Sergeant Gleason in command of the detachment here. Another four teams in Jordan, commanded by Sergeant Ted Deering. I don’t think you’ve met him. Lieutenant Flores will command the combined detachments, with both sergeants reporting to her.”
“Ideally, we will rotate the two sections between the town of Jordan and your farm, allowing all of them to get the riding lessons we discussed before. If they’re successful, then that will guarantee me at least a platoon size force ready to ride when we have to transition to horses. Hopefully, we’ll have more, but I’ll just have to see what happens and how that works out.”
“Lieutenant Flores will be assigned two Hummers, a heavy truck and a light MRAP, which she will use to make periodic patrols of this county and either try to establish contact with survivors in the area or else check in on those we’re already made contact with. She will alternate between Sergeant Gleason’s men and Sergeant Deering’s in manning those patrols, so that no one group carries any particular burden alone.”
“Mister Dawson has also requested that we train with his militia forces at least some, to allow them the opportunity to get some much-needed field exercise, as well as gain experience in working with outside forces. We are considering allowing them to take half the slots in the patrols Lieutenant Flores leads, just so that they can gain that experience as well. Your people would be welcome to participate in the same way if you think it would be beneficial.”
“I doubt we’d learn anything we haven’t already learned the hard way,” Clay admitted. “Most of our people are already experienced, and those who aren’t are still in training. Everyone on the farm past the age of sixteen is armed and well trained in defensive tactics to help protect the farm and the people on it, but they are never used in any kind of mission away from the farm. In fact, we try not to have missions away from the farm, to be honest. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, but we do our best.”
“How are they armed?” Flores asked.
“With rifles,” Clay replied evenly, unwilling to supply much in the way of information. “And everyone has been issued a sidearm as well. Each person participates in a weekly training session of some kind, including hand-to-hand combat, range time, firearm familiarization, and classroom time for tactics and strategy.”
“Sounds like a professional setup,” Gleason spoke for the first time.
“We do our best,” Clay nodded. “There’s too much at stake not to.”
“I’m surprised you’re not out more,” Flores mentioned. “There’s not much that could really oppose you, other than a group like ours.”
“We have no interest in being out more, away from our families,” Clay shrugged, not bothering to mention that their ‘group’ wasn’t really a match for the farm, either. There was no reason for them to know that. Even if some of them, like Adcock and Gleason, guessed it, it was better to leave them guessing than to confirm it.
“No sensible person would,” Gleason agreed. “It’s not your job or responsibility, either.”
“That is true,” Clay nodded. “Something we’ve tried to remember. Whenever we’ve moved, we’ve done it when there were no other options left to us. We prefer to stay quiet and unnoticed.”
“Well, the unnoticed part is at an end, I’m afraid,” Adcock informed him. “The Major will certainly remember you. He may even visit, if he gets the chance, but I don’t know that. Meanwhile, your idea to have manpower here to help plant, maintain and harvest a major garden style plot on our behalf was also approved, and again is something that he will be mentioning to other groups like yours. Which leads me to something else altogether,” his tone indicated a change of topic that he wasn’t sure Clay would like.
“And that would be?” Clay wasn’t sure he would like it either.
“We’re actually starting to get people volunteering to join us,” the Captain said. “Many will
not be physically able to serve as an active solider but will have other skills we can make use of. There should be some, though, who are able to serve actively in the field. That means we’re going to need training facilities for them. They will need at least an abbreviated version of basic training and AIT for infantry if nothing else, plus be taught to ride if they don’t already know how.”
“And you want it to be here,” Clay raised an eyebrow.
“One of them, yes,” Adcock nodded. “Sergeant Gleason would remain in command. As the team he commands through the winter leaves to return to active duty, they would be replaced by new trainees. Ideally, we would train them in groups of thirty-two, but that’s ideal. Realistically, we have to work with what we get. The plan would be to place two experienced soldiers with him to assist with training while he served as their drill sergeant.”
“And you want to do it here,” Clay said again.
“Well, the idea has been raised,” Adcock confirmed.
“There’s an expression you may be familiar with, Captain,” Clay’s tone wasn’t frosty, but it was no longer warm and friendly. “Give a yard and they’ll take a mile?”
“I’ve heard it before,” the soldier agreed, his face slightly red. “And I’m aware of what we’re asking-,”
“I wonder about that,” Clay cut him off. “I really do. We already agreed not only to house your men over the winter, and feed them at least part of the time, and teach them to ride, but now you want us to let as many as forty strangers on this farm, where our homes and families are, while you train them to be soldiers. Here, where our people live. If your headquarters is on a state park, you surely have room to do that training where your own people live. Why aren’t you doing that?”
“We don’t have the room-,”
“Bullshit,” Clay stopped him again. “You’re on a frigging state park. One that you’ve already mentioned had an inn, cabins and lodges. That narrows it down considerably, and every one of them around here that matches that criteria has plenty of room. Try again.”
Adcock’s face was redder still at the dressing down. He took a moment to calm and compose himself before speaking.
“We want to limit exposure to our headquarters operations,” he stated finally. “It’s literally all we have. All our eggs in one basket. We don’t have the manpower to protect more than one location or facility and still do any work in the public, limited though it may be. We’re spread too thin and have too much ground to cover. Just the way it is. Hell, we probably won’t be able to outfit everyone who manages to pass the training, for that matter. While we have the gear, we don’t have the uniforms, and we no longer have any industry to order them from. Same for boots, socks, hats, cold weather gear, you name it. You remember what it takes to outfit a soldier and keep him that way, I’m sure.”
“I do, and I realize that the industry needed is gone,” Clay agreed. “Actually, it’s not gone, it just lost power,” he amended. “The materials, patterns and other things needed are still there. There’s no reason you can’t manufacture uniforms yourself, really. All you need is the material. Use those people who aren’t suitable for soldiers to do the cutting, sewing and so on. As for footwear, make moccasins. You can make them nearly knee length and reinforce the soles and heels so that they’re more than tough enough to stand up to the wear and tear of field use.”
“It sounds to me like you people haven’t given a thought at all to any of that,” Clay finished. “You’re just hanging on to the dregs of the old system. If you keep doing that, then when what is left is gone, you’ll be holding an empty bag. Now is the time that you should be building down to what we can still do without much power. We know what we have here won’t last. We’re already losing things. We’re preparing now and moving on to doing things by hand. Learning the old ways of doing everything. We have two sayings here that it sounds as if you’d better adopt, and soon. One is that without knowledge, there is no survival. The second is that every day is a school day now. Every day is a learning experience. We have people learning to weave, to make thread, to make medicines, to make soap, to make leather goods, to shoe horses and do dozens of other jobs that we have to be able to do in order to survive. We know that it’s only a matter of time before that’s all we have, and we’re doing our best to be prepared for it.”
“Are you people doing anything to prepare for that?” he finished, eyeing Adcock speculatively.
Neither Adcock nor Flores would meet his gaze, but Gleason did, and Clay would have sworn he could see a smirk on the old soldier’s face.
“Told them this already?” Clay took a guess, looking at Gleason.
“Every damn day,” he nodded firmly.
“Sergeant,” Adcock’s tone carried a warning.
“If he’s going to be stationed here, he’s going to speak his mind,” Clay cut Adcock off at the knees. “I take it you’ve hit a brick wall with this?” he turned to Gleason.
“That’s not completely accurate, nor fair, sir,” Gleason admitted. “While there’s not the amount of urgency attached to this that there should be, at least in my opinion, the simple fact is that we lack the knowledge and the tools to do anything about it, for the present anyway. While there are women in the dependents group who can sew, and even some that can knit, we have little in the way of materials for them to work with. We’ve gathered what we could from abandoned stores, but it wasn’t much. The time to do something like that was before everything went completely to hell in places like Nashville or Murfreesboro, and we could have moved on larger stores that carried that kind of supply. We don’t have that option now, and even if we did, most of those stores are no longer standing, or have been looted blind.” He paused, considering what to say with his two immediate superiors at the table.
“Too many of them treat it like one of those video games the kids I served my last tour with would play when they weren’t on watch,” he said finally. “Like everything they need is going to magically appear somewhere in the game, for them to find and take. Only, in those games, those chests and what have you refill themselves, whereas in real life, assuming you do find something you need, then once you take it, that’s it. It’s gone.”
“True story, there,” Clay agreed.
“It’s like you said, sir,” Gleason concluded, still speaking to Clay. “We have to start learning to do things the old ways, the way our forefathers did it, or else we’re going to be in trouble. By which I mean more trouble than we already are.”
“That also is true,” Clay nodded. He looked at Adcock.
“I take it that your group isn’t doing anything to correct this issue?” he asked plainly.
“We have a few people working on it,” Adcock replied. “Working to gather not only the materials we need, but also trying to find willing participants that can teach what we need to learn. But, as Sergeant Gleason noted, the materials are in short supply, as are people who have the required skill sets. We’ve lost a great deal of knowledge over the winter, I’m afraid.”
“Have you raided the libraries?” Clay asked. “Most local libraries will have the kind of how-to books that would at least get you started on a lot of things from pioneer days, if not from the industrial revolution. Museums would have the tools. Even the older ones that are too fragile to use can be taken as models for new ones. If people in the eighteen-hundreds could do all this, we sure as hell can.”
“That’s easy for you to say, considering how well set you are,” Flores challenged. “Sir,” she added at the last minute, as if unsure of herself.
“I’m well set, as you put it, because I worked my ass off to get here,” Clay shot back. “All of us did. And when the news of all this came about, we rushed to gather what we could and to huddle up, pooling our resources. But this farm and everything on it already belonged to my family, the product of five generations of damned hard work that started with two hundred acres of rock and gullies. Six generations now, really. So no, Lieutenant, it’s not so much easy
to say, or to do. But we’re still doing it, because we want to survive and we want our children to be able to have decent lives, in as much as we can make that happen.”
“There are a lot of children out there who don’t have that option,” she refused to back down.
“And that is not my fault, nor are they my responsibility,” Clay replied. “I take it you’ve never served overseas anywhere? Seen any combat?”
“No,” she replied defensively. “But what does that-,”
“If you had,” Clay interrupted, “then you would have learned that there are things you can control, and things you can’t. Things you can do and things you can’t. You learn, the hard way, that you can’t save everyone, not even all of your own people. You learn that there is a limit to your resources, and to your strength and that of your command. You learn, too, that there will always be something that didn’t get done, or someone you couldn’t help, because you simply didn’t have what it took to do so.”
“I’m well aware that there are children suffering out there,” Clay told her. “Starving, even. There is an orphanage full of them at the top of this hill,” he pointed. “Children taken from their parents to use as cover to attack this farm, in fact. We don’t know who they are, or even what their names are. They are too young to tell us. Even if their parents still live, we have no way to reunite them with their families. So, we built an orphanage and we have women there who care for them, night and day. We house, feed and clothe them, and will continue to do so until they’re grown.”
“There is a family, at least what remains of it, that was attacked, very brutally attacked I should say, men shot and left to die, women brutalized and likewise left to die. They were brought here and treated, and cared for until they recovered, at which time they were given a home here as they regained their strength so they could work to earn their keep. Underage siblings are here as well, working and finishing whatever education we can give them.”