Resurrecting Home

by A. American

  The other gunner quickly replied, “Got ’em!”

  “I’ve got the left!” Ian called.

  The reply from the other gunner was terse. “I’m on the right.”

  Of those running, some were waving and nearly all were shouting. Ian stuck his head down into the cab of the truck. “Step on it, Perez!”

  Perez gunned the truck, and the driver of the other Hummer did likewise. A group came toward them. It wasn’t clear what they were doing—maybe they wanted help, maybe they had violent intentions. However, there were several armed men who appeared particularly agitated, and Ian and Perez didn’t want to take any chances.

  One man was waving a bolt-action rifle over his head, as you would to get someone’s attention. His face was flushed red behind an enormous beard. Ian watched him intently, anticipating his next action. Realizing the trucks weren’t going to stop, the man gripped the rifle, holding it in a low ready manner. He shouted at the Hummer, his words drowned out by the screaming diesel engine. In a final act of desperation, he raised the rifle to his shoulder.

  The red holographic sight of Ian’s gun stayed centered on the man as best he could as they bounced down the uneven road. As soon as the man raised the rifle, Ian lifted the muzzle slightly and squeezed off a short burst. With the 725 rounds per minute the weapon was capable of, the brief trigger pull spit 11 rounds over the man’s head. The loud rapid staccato report and the crack of the passing bullets stunned the man, causing him to fall backward.

  The sudden outburst of gunfire caused those running toward them to either dive face-first into the dirt or flee in any and every direction. For just a brief moment, Ian was taken back to his days in Iraq. It was the same type of scene: a crowd gathered, then would quickly disperse with a short burst.

  “You clear back there?” Ian called into the radio.

  “Yeah, looks like they lost interest.”

  “Good, let’s get the hell out of Dodge,” Ian muttered to himself.

  With Lake Eustis on one side and Trout Lake on the other, the highway bottlenecked right before it entered Eustis. The bottleneck was the perfect place for a roadblock, and someone indeed had taken advantage of it. Using several cars and various other objects, the small canal that connected the two lakes was essentially blocked.

  “Roadblock!” Ian shouted as he ducked behind the armor plates of the turret.

  “No shit!” Perez shouted back.

  Ahead both of them could see bodies moving around behind the barricade, taking cover. Perez jerked the wheel onto a side road and gunned the engine, cutting across two lanes of pavement. As they crashed through some trees, a few choice words were thrown around by Ian. He paralleled the canal, coming out on North Shore and following the lake up to Bates Avenue. The trailing Hummer followed the maneuver. Taking Bates to the intersection of Bay, Perez made a quick right and started the final stretch to the armory. As they approached the armory, Ian called the other Hummer and told them to hang a left on Woodward to check the other side of the facility to make sure no one was camped out back there.

  “Meet us at the gate to the yard,” Ian instructed.

  “Roger that.”

  Perez drove slowly past the building while Ian and the other Guardsmen in the front seat scanned the area.

  “You guys see anything over there?” Ian asked.

  “The fence has been cut back there, but that’s about all that’s visible,” the gunner replied.

  “All right, let’s go check it out. You stay here and cover us.” The gunner nodded as everyone else dismounted.

  They began their search by walking the exterior of both buildings. They found several obvious places where people tried to gain entry, though from the looks of it, none of their attempts were successful. When they originally left the armory to struggle in the woods of the Ocala Forest, any gear that couldn’t be taken was moved inside. Very little was left outside, but some things couldn’t be moved, like fuel tanks and other stationary equipment.

  Perez walked over to the fuel tanks and stepped up on the scaffold beside them. The cap to one of the tanks was hanging by its chain, and Perez looked into it.

  “Anything in there?” Ian asked.

  Perez started pulling a string, eventually revealing a small plastic cup. “Looks like they got nearly the last drops out,” he replied, dropping the cup on the ground.

  They moved back toward the motor pool, weapons always at the ready. Beside the bays for repairing the vehicles was a metal carport once used to store new and used motor oil. Ian kicked the drums as he passed, and they rang with a hollow echo. “Damn, they even took the used motor oil.”

  “Yeah, looks like people were camped here for a while,” Perez replied, pushing a pile of cans around with the toe of his boot.

  “What’s that smell?” Ian asked, looking around.

  “Smells like a clogged toilet.”

  Ian moved around behind the large building. “Oh damn, found it.”

  “Let me guess, the latrine?”

  “Yeah, they didn’t even dig a hole, just shit on the ground. That’ll have to be cleaned up. You up for the job?” Ian joked. Perez grunted as a means of response.

  They moved to check the bay doors on the front of the building. “Looks like they tried like hell to get in,” Perez said, rubbing a thumb in a deep gouge in the heavy metal door.

  “Yeah, and let’s make sure they didn’t,” Ian replied, reaching into his pocket and fishing out a key.

  Perez shouldered his carbine, prepared for whatever was behind the door. Ian quickly opened the door, jerking it open. Perez rushed in with the other Guardsmen right behind him as Ian brought up the rear.

  The building was as they left it, their movement through the work bays disturbing the fine layer of dust that covered every surface. It drifted up into the air, defining the laser-like beams of light coming in through the high windows. With confirmation that the building was secure, they moved on to the main structure.

  “All right, let’s go inside,” Ian said. Perez and the other guys nodded. Ian keyed his radio to let Sheffield know what they were about to do. “We’re going in.”

  “Roger that.”

  He unlocked the door and jerked it open, and they quickly moved through the door in a stack. Inside they entered into the assembly hall. The windows over the hall area allowed enough light in to see that the room was empty, and they swiftly cleared it and moved to check the administration areas. It was immediately obvious that this one was empty as well.

  “Looks like it’s been left alone,” Perez said.

  Before anyone could reply, a call came over the radio. “We’ve got company!”

  “Where?” Ian asked.

  “I see some people on Eustis Street. You better check Bay.”

  “Perez, take Nick and check the front of the building. You guys come with me,” Ian said as he turned and headed for the lot.

  As they came around the corner, Ian could see four or five people outside the fence on Eustis Street. Three women and a boy held on to the fence and were talking to the gunner in the turret. Ian came up to the Hummer, keeping his weapon pointed in their direction, though not directly at them.

  “What’s up?” Ian asked as he took cover behind the open driver’s door.

  “They think we’re here to help,” the gunner replied.

  “Sorry ladies, we’re just an advance unit. We’re not here to help right now,” Ian called out.

  “Please, we just need some help. Why isn’t anyone helping us?” one of the women called out.

  “ATVs heading this way,” Perez called over the radio.

  “Maybe they don’t know where we are. Keep an eye on them,” Ian replied.

  Perez watched as the two ATVs came down Bay Street, two men on each machine. The Guardsmen with him tapped him on the shoulder, pointing across the street from the armory to a group of three people lazing about under an oak tree. Perez figured word must be traveling that they were in the area. The four me
n on the ATVs saw them and stopped, it was obvious they were asking them questions, then Perez saw one of the three people point at the armory.

  “They’re coming. Wonder who the hell they are, running around on those machines,” Perez called.

  “Looks like we’re about to find out,” Ian replied.

  Ian told one of the other Guardsmen to get up into the turret of his Hummer and man the SAW. Both gunners complied and rotated their turrets to face the sound of the approaching vehicles. The two ATVs pulled up to the gate and stopped, four men quickly hopping off.

  Ian called out, “What do you want?”

  “Hey, are you guys moving into this place? Are you coming back?”

  “Maybe.”

  The four men shared glances around. “Well, I’m the sheriff. If you guys are coming back then that puts you under my jurisdiction.”

  “You’re not the sheriff of Lake County,” one of the Guardsmen replied.

  “No, I’m the sheriff of Eustis,” the man replied.

  “The what?” Ian asked.

  “The sheriff of Eustis. Things are going back to how they used to be.”

  Ian looked back at the group of women at the fence. “He the sheriff?”

  The man claiming to be the sheriff looked over at them. His glance obviously unsettled them, and they shrank back from the fence.

  “Uh, yeah, he’s the sheriff,” one of them replied.

  Ian glanced back at the man and noted the look on his face, looking at the women. Then he asked, “What makes you the sheriff?”

  “Someone had to do it. Someone had to step in and try to make this place safer. So me and my boys did.”

  “You got any experience in law enforcement?” Ian asked.

  He shrugged. “Well, no, but all you need is common sense. It ain’t hard to tell right from wrong.”

  “So you just decided to make yourself sheriff?” Ian asked.

  He obviously caught the mocking tone. “Damn right I did. And I heard the address by the Feds. They said the National Guard was supposed to put themselves under the jurisdiction of the local authorities. That’s me.”

  Ian laughed. “Uh, lawfully elected authorities maybe, not just some dude who’s decided to make himself sheriff.”

  “Well, I am the sheriff,” the man said, his eyes narrowing.

  Ian laughed. “I’m done with you,” he said, turning his back on the men.

  The sheriff was incredulous. He looked at his men. “You believe these idiots? Who the hell do they think they are?”

  One of the men replied, almost in a whisper, “The guys with the machine guns.”

  The sheriff sneered at him. “Yeah, well, when they come back we’ll be here.”

  “We tried that once, we couldn’t get in,” another of the men replied.

  “Yeah, well, we will this time,” the sheriff spat back.

  While they spoke Perez had returned to the trucks and everyone loaded up. The trucks were started up and maneuvered to go back out the gate. Pulling up to the gate, Ian swung the SAW around, pointing it at the four men. “Move!” he shouted. The four men backed up from the gate a short distance, and the trucks pulled through. Outside the gate Ian ordered them to back farther away. They needed to secure the gate.

  “Back up!” Ian shouted.

  Begrudgingly the four men started to back away. Ian watched them intently as they were all armed. The sheriff shifted the grip on the AK he carried. Ian caught the slight movement and shouted at him, “Don’t even fucking think about it! I’ll cut you fuckers in half!”

  The other three moved their hands to keep them in plain view. The sheriff, however, simply glared back. One of the other guys hopped out and secured the gate then quickly got back in. Once back Ian told Perez to take off. The two trucks moved out quickly, heading the wrong way down Bay Street.

  At the barricade they didn’t detour this time, driving straight to it. There were still men there and he ordered them to push a car out of the way that acted as a gate in the center. The men hesitated for a moment. Ian stood up in the web seat of the turret and pointed at them. “Move that fucking car now or I’ll open up!”

  Two of the men quickly began moving the car out of the way. As they did, the gunner in the rear Hummer called over the radio, “They’re closing in on us.” Ian looked back and could see the two ATVs closing quickly. Looking forward to make sure the car was nearly out of the way, Perez stomped on the gas and the Hummer started to roll. Seeing the big truck coming the two men strained against the car, pushing it from the rear. As the Hummer closed in they had to dive out of the way, and the right front corner of the bumper caught the car and slammed it into the ones in front of it.

  Now through the barricade the trucks sped up, putting distance between them and it. Ian looked back and could see the sheriff standing in front of it, hands on his hips, watching as the distance between them increased.

  “He’s going to be a problem,” Perez shouted over his shoulder.

  Ian ducked his head down through the turret. “That’s what he thinks, but he has no idea of the shit storm heading his way.”

  Heading back toward the camp, they were staring directly into the smoke—it covered the entire horizon before them. The rising smoke now had a mix of colors in it: white, black, yellow, and what almost looked like green.

  “Holy Mary, Mother of God,” Perez nearly whispered. “Look at it, that fire is massive.”

  The Guardsman beside him looked over. “It looks like the entire world is burning.”

  “We need to get the hell out of that forest, fast.”

  Perez could hear Ian on the radio relaying the situation at the armory back to the brass at the camp. It was just noise in his ears, though, as he was totally engrossed in the sight before him. There were more people now on the road, all of whom were looking to the north.

  “Where are you now?” Sheffield asked over the radio.

  “We’re passing the orange juice plant in Umatilla,” Ian replied.

  “Find a place to pull off and wait. We’ve already got the first convoy of trucks heading out.”

  Perez pulled the Hummer into the grassy median. Ian thought about what was going on. “Captain, we’re probably going to have to deal with a self-proclaimed sheriff on the way back.”

  “A what?”

  “Some guy claims to be sheriff of Eustis, said we were supposed to be under his control.”

  After a long pause Sheffield’s voice came back over the radio. “Stump Knocker will talk to him when he gets there, see what he’s about.”

  Ian smiled, thinking of the old man. That poor bastard in Eustis had no idea the trouble headed his way. Ian turned in his turret and called out to the other gunner, “Keep an eye out, we’re going to wait here.”

  He gave a thumbs-up in reply. Across the street was an old gas station sitting beside a small shopping plaza. Even in the Before, the plaza was essentially defunct, but now it looked even more depressing and empty than ever. Despite that, a group of kids were playing in the parking lot. Ian smiled and waved at them and then ducked down into the truck. Dragging a box of MREs over, he started pulling the meals out and opening them. He was looking for the candies that were inevitably in every meal. Once he had several packs of M&M’s and Skittles, he grabbed his carbine and got out.

  “Hey!” he shouted at the kids, waving them over. They came running over in a stampede.

  He started handing out small handfuls of candies to the kids. It soon turned into a mob scene, with the bigger kids pushing the smaller ones out of the way. Seeing one particular face for the second time, he said, “You’ve had yours, beat it.” The kid’s shoulders slumped and Ian pushed through the crowd to the smaller ones in the back, making sure they got their share.

  “Are you soldiers?” a little girl in a filthy dress asked. She smiled and he could see the plaque crusted on her teeth.

  “Hell no. My parents are married. I’m a marine,” Ian replied with a big smile, not at all consi
dering the audience he delivered the joke to.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for some of my friends.”

  One of the bigger kids, a boy, said, “My dad says you guys are a bunch of cowards.”

  Ian made a show of looking at himself. “Does it look to you like I’m afraid of anything?”

  “Not to me! You look scary!” the little girl shouted.

  “Do you have any more candy?” a boy of about five or six asked shyly.

  Ian held up his hands. “Nope, it’s all gone.”

  “I’m still hungry,” another little one said.

  Ian was a tough guy, but hearing their little pleas got to him. After a tour in Iraq and two in Afghanistan, it was always kids he really felt for. They hadn’t asked to be born into these wars, they had no control over which religious sect their family was part of, and inevitably they were always caught in the middle. He’d arranged with his mom to send toys over—soccer balls were popular—and she’d done a drive once and sent him over two dozen. He remembered the days when he’d give them out, a few at a time in each village. The smiles on their faces when they received something as simple as a ball was amazing. It gave them the chance to be kids again, even if just for a little while, and that was worth it. Back then, he had become popular with the kids and many knew him on sight.

  Ian went back to the Hummer and took the case of meals out, setting it on the hood of the truck. He started taking the meals apart and pulling the individual foil packages out and opening them. The smaller, sickly looking kids got the main entrées. The bigger, healthier ones ended up with side dishes. There weren’t enough spoons to go around, but it didn’t deter any of the kids. If they didn’t get a spoon they simply used their dirty fingers to scoop the food into their mouths.

  After ensuring each kid had something to eat, Ian sat back and watched them. Every one of them took what they were offered without complaint, a bit of a novelty with modern children.

  Once whatever was in the package was consumed, the kids would lick the inside, leaving no trace whatsoever of the original contents. When they finished the kids simply dropped the remnants of the pouch where they stood. At first this bothered him, but with the amount of trash already around, it made little difference. These kids no longer knew a world where trash was expected to be placed into a container only to magically disappear. To them the world was one large trash can.