Turning Point: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction Series (The Blackout Series Book 3)

by Bobby Akart

  As it turned out, democratic voter turnout hit an all-time high for the entire county, and Republican voters stayed home, unenthusiastic for Senator John McCain or their local mayoral candidate.

  The day after the votes were tallied, Betty Jean was mayor-elect. The town was shocked, but she’d won fair and square. However, that was only half the story of Betty Jean’s rise to power and prominence in Hardin County. There was another candidate running for office—Leroy Durham Jr., her youngest boy.

  Junior, as all of his deputy buddies called him, wasn’t much to look at. He was scrawny like his ma. He used to get bullied as a kid and teased about his appearance. He grew up fightin’, like his ma, and defendin’ the memories of his famous granddaddy, Sheriff Buford Pusser.

  Most folks would’ve agreed that Junior’s older brother, Rollie, would’ve been better suited to be sheriff. Like their granddaddy, Rollie was a hulk of a man that didn’t need his granddaddy’s big stick to whoop the tar out of anyone. Rollie, however, found himself in trouble with the law as he turned eighteen and his ma hustled him off to the Marine recruiting office in Memphis before he could get charged with runnin’ ’shine. Rollie was destined to become a jarhead.

  When Betty Jean saw the possibility of victory in November for her mayoral race, she approached Junior with the wild-eyed scheme to run him for sheriff at the age of twenty-seven. He’d told his ma that she was plumb out of her ever-lovin’ mind until she smacked him upside the head and reminded him that his granddaddy became sheriff of McNairy County when he was just twenty-seven.

  After a night of explainin’ to Junior the perks of his being sheriff and how the two of them could run Hardin County together, he jumped on board against all odds. He started a campaign despite the ribbing and condemnation of his few friends in the Sheriff’s Department.

  Well, as luck would have it, the scandal surrounding his opponent hit the fan as the proverbial October surprise broke just prior to Election Day. Several female employees of the Sheriff’s Department came forward and accused the incumbent sheriff of demanding sex in exchange for promotions. The sixty-five-year-old married sheriff was given a carefully orchestrated perp walk just ten days prior to Election Day, which spread to all corners of Hardin County.

  Junior became the instant favorite to win, but the Republicans inserted a perfectly acceptable substitute for the disgraced incumbent—the female head of the Savannah Police Department. Betty Jean, however, was undeterred. She always had a backup plan.

  Two days before Election Day, Betty Jean was engaged in some pillow talk with her lover and former boss—Mr. Billy Joe Abernathy, the operations manager of the Pickwick Electric Cooperative substations that serviced the western half of Hardin County from Shiloh in the south to Saltillo in the north. Of course, Betty Jean was careful to keep hidden her affair with Billy Joe’s counterpart, the operations manager for Tennessee Valley Electric Cooperative, the electricity provider for the eastern half of the county. Betty Jean never put all her eggs in one basket, don’t you know.

  Now, for those folks who’ve been payin’ attention, the western half of Hardin County was full of Republicans. Betty Jean needed to suppress the vote, and after their night of sweet luvin’ and promises of future trysts, old married Billy Joe promised to do her a favor. He agreed to cut the power to his district during the last four hours of Election Day when Republican voter turnout was the heaviest.

  In the event of a power outage, the protocol was to switch to a paper ballot process for the remainder of the voting day. The ballots would then be delivered to Savannah, the County Seat, where they would be tallied and added to the electronic totals. Once the paper ballots arrived in Savannah, manipulating the vote count was easy for Betty Jean thanks to her friends in the county canvassing office.

  The vote for sheriff was close, and it was surprisin’ to everyone in the county, except for Betty Jean, but the local county judge certified it. Junior was The Man!

  It’d been many years now. Re-elections had come and gone. Ma Durham and Junior had kept a firm grip on Savannah and Hardin County without challenge. Both Ma and Junior continued to worship, publicly now, the memories of Sheriff Buford Pusser.

  By the way, folks have always wondered about those two. ’Cause, you know, their bond to each other was strong—sorta like Norman Bates and his momma.

  Chapter 30

  DAY SEVENTEEN

  2:30 p.m., September 25

  Hardin County Sheriff’s Department

  Water Street

  Savannah, Tennessee

  Colton knew he might die, but his gut told him it was the only way to save his family. Those men never had any intention of letting them cross through town and over the river to Shiloh. When they were diverted by their escorts down the backstreet and Colton saw the dozens of parked vehicles with out-of-state tags, his gut instinct told him it was a trap.

  Once the alarm bells rang in his subconscious, the abrupt maneuver of the Dodge to block the road told him they were being herded toward the Sheriff’s Department for a reason. He made a judgment call and he hoped Madison and Alex were able to use the distraction to get away.

  He was now running for his life. The pickup was a hundred yards behind him but gaining quickly. Colton was not in the best of shape, but his adrenaline surge made up for his lack of athleticism. He ran off the gravel and onto the grass, where his footing was less sure.

  POP—POP—POP.

  The sound of gunfire echoed off the sheriff’s office walls and caused Colton to instinctively duck. He stumbled and almost lost his footing.

  CRACKLE—CRACKLE—CRACKLE.

  Fireworks? He was nearing the woods when he stepped into a hole, lost his balance, and sprawled face-first onto the rough ground. His face bloodied, Colton rolled over and reached for his gun. He was going to make a stand.

  Gunfire erupted, but it was not aimed at him. The pickup truck slid to a stop, spraying gravel and chunks of grass for thirty feet toward Colton. The men turned their attention to a block retaining wall near the buildings across the vacant lot. They immediately opened fire in that direction, tearing off chunks of plaster from the masonry. Although the sound of gunshots filled the air, Colton couldn’t see anyone shooting back.

  He didn’t take the time to analyze what had happened or lick his wounds. He scrambled to his feet and ran into the woods. After scratching and clawing through some dead honeysuckle vines, he found a well-worn path and ran down it.

  Later, Colton couldn’t recall how long or how far he’d run. He put as much distance between the sheriff’s office and the men chasing him as he could. After thirty minutes or so, he ran past an electric substation, where he stumbled upon a creek and finally stopped.

  Colton’s heart was pounding out of his chest and he got the cold sweats. At first he thought he was having a heart attack, but then he realized it was an anxiety attack. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

  Colton was afraid, but that was okay. They’d been through a lot since they’d left Nashville, but this was different. He was separated from the girls and now he was second-guessing his decision. He replayed those moments over and over again. He could’ve driven across the curb and tried to drive away.

  He took another deep breath and put the what-ifs out of his mind. He’d made a decision; now he planned to ensure it was the right one. Colton leaned over the creek and washed his face. He didn’t realize how badly scraped his hands and arms were. The cold water stung a little, but it was also refreshing.

  He leaned back on the bank and collapsed, staring up at the dormant power lines that crossed through the woods toward the south. Colton wondered if they’d ever carry electricity again. The thoughts of electricity and the girls reminded him of his lifeline. He felt around in his pockets and found Alex’s phone. He powered it up and quietly said a prayer thanking God that it worked. Now, he had to hope the girls figured out why he’d taken it with him.

  Colton relaxed for another moment and then considered his next mov
e. He expected the bridge to be blocked with a similar armed guard contingent as they’d encountered on the east side of town. Most likely, all of the major highways in and out of Savannah would be covered.

  The night before, they’d talked at length about the military occupation of the Pickwick Dam. Colton doubted Madison would’ve headed south. Besides, her initial getaway took her in the opposite direction from where he ran.

  Colton pulled up the map on Alex’s phone. There was only one major road that ran toward the north and that was County Road 128. It was probably heavily guarded and Madison would avoid it. He also knew they wouldn’t attempt to find him during the daytime. It was too risky.

  Colton shook his head and slammed his hands against the ground in anger, sending pain through his arms. They should have discussed alternative routes and rally points in case they got separated. Both of those things were common sense that hadn’t crossed his mind as they’d gotten closer to Savannah. He’d thought it would be a straight shot across the river and they’d be easily at Jake’s place before dark. Now he wondered if he’d ever see his family again—alive.

  The barking dogs brought him out of his dejection. From his days in Texas, he knew the difference between dogs barking for the sake of making noise and those that were on a mission. These were huntin’ dogs and they were getting louder. The manhunt was on and he was fairly certain they were after him.

  He hopped up and weighed his options. Evading a good tracker wasn’t like what folks saw on television, where the pursued ran through a creek to the other side. Colton knew that good trackin’ dogs picked up a fugitive’s scent again where he exited the creek because his scent would mix with the water that dripped off him to the ground.

  The water would delay the dogs and their handler, which was the best way to escape their tracking him. Colton ran into the creek and waded toward the east for about a hundred feet until the water got near waist high. Then he emerged on the north side of the creek and started running along an area cleared for some power lines.

  After a while, he darted back into the woods toward the creek and made his way along a path created by hogs or deer. Colton found another shallow part of the creek and walked into it and then up the hill on the other side. He traced his steps backward into the water and then waded farther to the east about fifty feet. He hoped this would confuse the dogs as well.

  Colton continued this process and began to run through the woods again until he came to a clearing and a gravel road that took him south. The rumble of a truck with a loud muffler could be heard ahead. Colton knew he was getting near the main road.

  The sound of the dogs barking grew faint. They either pulled off the hunt, or they had to go around the creek at a road crossing somewhere. Either way, Colton was relieved at the breathing room the distraction provided.

  It was still too early to hide, and the longer he stayed in these woods, the more likely it was that he’d get cordoned off. He had to make a run for it and get out of the immediate area. He pushed through the brush until he came upon a street running north and south. Colton crouched in some dense underbrush and studied the Google Maps app on Alex’s phone. This was CR128.

  Crap! He was only five blocks from the sheriff’s office. He was still right under their noses!

  Colton felt like this was the best route out of town to rendezvous with the girls, but with all of the businesses that lined this road, he’d surely be seen in broad daylight. And, like Alex, he’d noticed there wasn’t anyone on the street. It was too risky for him to be out in the open.

  He inched closer to the road and watched for traffic. It was deserted. He studied the four houses across the way. There didn’t appear to be any activity. Colton thought if he could cross the road, the tracking dogs wouldn’t be able to follow his scent across the asphalt. Out of precaution, he’d lead them in a triangular path before running to the houses across the way.

  Colton took a deep breath, assessed the surroundings one more time, and ran onto the road. He performed his triangulation avoidance maneuver and ran between the older, craftsman-style homes. At the third home, he discovered a set of double doors leading to a basement root cellar. Finding it unlocked, he slipped down the concrete stairs into the dark space.

  He pulled out Alex’s phone and lit up the display. Colton took in his surroundings. What he found in the basement would’ve scared him on a normal day.

  Chapter 31

  DAY SEVENTEEN

  6:00 p.m., September 25

  Off Clifton Road

  Bucktown, Tennessee

  Madison drove through the backyards of the neighborhood and worked her way over to the adjoining streets as they found their way north out of town. She knew this was risky, but driving across the bridge was out of the question, and she wasn’t going to leave Colton alone on this side of the river.

  Madison and Alex were barely a mile out of town when the countryside opened up into the type of rural landscape they’d driven through since they’d left Nashville. Soon the houses became fewer and far between, eventually making way for large stretches of farmland and woods.

  They’d picked a random side road, which led them up into the hills overlooking the Tennessee River valley and the town of Savannah. Madison checked the odometer and began measuring their distance as soon as they cleared the city limits. By their estimation, it was approximately five miles back to the center of town.

  At a clearing, they drove off the one-lane road and bounced along a well-worn trail created by years of off-roading by locals. The ruts created were barely wide enough for the Wagoneer to follow, but the path led them behind a tree stand that shielded them from the view of any passersby, not that they expected any. A little further up the mountain, the elevation allowed them a clear view of Savannah to the south and the Tennessee River to the west. If the search for them continued into the night, they’d be able to see the vehicles’ headlights.

  After they found a secluded place to park, Madison grabbed a comforter out of the back of the Wagoneer and spread it out on the ground. They both agreed they’d stop, drink some water, and digest what had just happened to them. Despite their concerns for Colton, now was not the time to make any rash, hasty decisions.

  They let go of their emotions as they both realized how close to death they had been. Then their concerns turned to the whereabouts and safety of Colton. They both calmed down after several minutes of discussion and then quiet reflection.

  Alex finished off her water and replaced the cap for future use. “Mom, the arrows the other day destroyed several of the bottles of water. We only have six or eight left.”

  “Okay,” said Madison. “We’ll need to unpack the back of the truck anyway to find a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  “For starters, we need my cell phone and the Eton crank weather radio,” replied Madison. Do you remember where they’re packed?”

  “Why do we need your cell phone? Let me get mine.” Alex started to get up to retrieve her phone when Madison reached out and held her arm.

  “Don’t bother,” said Madison. “Your dad took the iPhone.”

  “He did? When?”

  “He grabbed it as he ran off,” replied Madison.

  “Why would Daddy take my iPhone?”

  Madison looked down to the ground and gathered the courage to explain. “Honey, we’ve always trusted you. You know that, right?”

  Alex hesitated and gave Madison a puzzled look. “Yeah, I know. What’s this about, Mom?”

  “Well, when your dad and I purchased the iPhone for you, we added an app.”

  Alex sat up and crossed her legs. She clasped her fingers together and studied Madison’s face. “So? What kind of app?”

  “It’s called Footprints,” replied Madison. “It’s sort of a find my kids app. Footprints uses geo-tracking technology to keep up with the location of your iPhone while you were out. We could follow where you went and how long you stayed at a particular location. You know, stuff like tha
t.”

  Alex stuck her jaw out and nodded her head. “Really?” she stated sarcastically.

  “Yes, honey. Again, it wasn’t because we didn’t trust you. It was, well, you know. We’re your parents and we worry.”

  Alex started laughing as she stood. “Mom, all of the kids laugh about Footprints. There are a couple of app killers to disable them temporarily or hold the location in place until you go back and allow geo-tracking to pick you up again.”

  “Are you kidding me?” asked Madison, looking up to her daughter.

  “Nope. It’s kinda like that Newton’s Law of Physics—for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Well, for every so-called parental control, there’s a whiz-kid hacker out there who figures out a work-around.”

  “Why haven’t I heard of this work-around?” asked Madison.

  “Kid code,” replied Alex.

  Now it was Madison’s turn to stand. She jumped to her feet and shook her head.

  “What is kid code?” asked Madison.

  “You know, it’s kinda like girl code,” replied Alex. “Girl code has those certain rules that cannot be broken. You can’t date another girl’s boyfriend. You can’t lie directly to a girlfriend’s face, which includes lies of omission. You never disclose secrets that were told to you in confidence.”

  “Yeah, I remember girl code,” said Madison.

  “Kid code is the same thing, except kids actually stick to it, whereas girls always break girl code,” started Alex. “The first rule of kid code is you never tell your parents something that could go against the best interest of your fellow kid. Parents always think they know what’s best for kids and they’ll ruin anything that we think is best for us.”

  “Like the Footprints app-killer thing,” said Madison.