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

by Bobby Akart

  “What if I see them?”

  Coach turned to Colton and asked. “What can Beau say to your ladyfolk that only you and your family would know?”

  Colton thought for a moment. “I know what, refer to my daughter as Allie-Cat. It’s always been a nickname we’ve used for her, but she kinda grew out of it. She’ll know that I sent you.”

  “Got it,” said Beau. “Dad, if I find them, I’ll put the word out so everyone can hear it. It’ll be easier for y’all to come across the highway once than me bringing them here and then back across again.”

  “Makes sense,” said Coach. “Let’s meet up at Graham Chapel as our rally point. Okay, everybody know their job?”

  A chorus of yes sirs was provided as the boys took off in different directions. Colton was impressed with both the comradery and the discipline.

  “Let me show you somethin’, Mr. Ryman,” said Coach as he led Colton deeper into the house toward a back bedroom.

  “Sure, but please call me Colton. I’m feelin’ kinda old with mister.”

  Colton followed him into a bedroom and then through a closet door. Inside the closet, Coach opened a false panel entry and they stepped into a well-lit enclosed space that was hidden under the home’s staircase. It was eight feet by ten feet and contained guns, ammunition, and maps all over the walls.

  For the next thirty minutes, Coach gave Colton the rundown on the history of Savannah’s illustrious mayor, Ma Durham, and her boy Junior, the sheriff of Hardin County. Colton also learned how they were profiting from the collapse of the power grid.

  It appeared indentured servitude was alive and well in Savannah, Tennessee, and it’d never been uglier.

  Chapter 35

  DAY SEVENTEEN

  10:30 p.m., September 25

  Clifton Road

  Savannah, Tennessee

  Madison and Alex had high hopes as they entered the more populated areas of Savannah just after ten that night. By their calculations, only a mile separated them from Colton. They methodically worked their way through the neighborhood streets of Savannah, listening to radio chatter and confirming Colton’s location.

  They used the backyards mainly, running from one cover and concealment point to another. On rare occasions, privacy fences blocked their route, so they were momentarily exposed to the street as they made their way through front yards.

  They’d only seen one other person thus far. An older man sat in a rocking chair, smoking a pipe. Using overgrown boxwoods as cover, Madison and Alex ran past the man’s front porch and caught the scent of the aromatic cherry blend as they passed. Alex glanced over at the man and she doubted he saw them. He was off in a faraway, better place at the moment.

  “Mom,” whispered Alex, “what if Daddy dropped my phone and lost it? We could be walking to the phone, but not him.”

  “I thought about that, but it doesn’t change the plan. We’re so close now, Alex. The only major hurdle I foresee is crossing the main drag—Highway 64. We’ll be wide open and exposed.”

  Alex continued to thumb through the channels on the two-way radio. The chatter had died down. “When we get close, we’ll find a spot and observe. I’ve got the night vision. Maybe we’ll catch a guard sleeping and run right past him.”

  “They had a roadblock at Main Street, which forced us toward the sheriff’s office,” said Madison. “Let’s turn down this way and cut across the highway before that roadblock.”

  They picked up the pace and began jogging through a large backyard when they came face-to-face with a pit bull.

  GRRRRRRRRRR.

  “Shhh, puppy!” whispered Madison. They stopped dead in their tracks, just out of reach of the growling dog that was chained to a tree. “Please, be quiet. Good doggy!”

  GRRRRRRRRRR, BUFF, BUFF, SNORT.

  “Walk back slowly, Alex. He can’t reach us, but he can surely raise the devil if he wants to.”

  They slowly stepped back and the pit bull lunged at them. Now he was mad and let the world know about it.

  BARK—BARK—BARK—BARK.

  GRUFF—GRUFF—GROWL—BARK!

  “Jeez Louise,” exclaimed Alex. “Run this way, Mom!” The girls took off, running for the cover of other homes. Ordinarily, lights might have come on, glowing through bedroom windows, with faces appearing to determine the cause of the commotion. Alex didn’t stop to determine if they’d drawn attention. She wanted to put as much distance between them and the barking dog as she could.

  HOOOOOOWL!

  BARK—BARK—BARK.

  HOOOOOOWL!

  “Great!” exclaimed Madison, almost out of breath. “Every hound in West Tennessee is joining in now!”

  Alex led them in a zigzag pattern through parked cars, houses, and fence rows. The cacophony of the various dog breeds of Savannah began to subside.

  “Alex, wait,” said Madison, gasping for air. “I’m dyin’ here. Let’s catch our breath. Okay?”

  “Okay, Mom, but just for a moment. All the dogs barking may have drawn attention to us.”

  The two leaned against a tall wooden privacy fence and caught their breath. Madison was bent over, holding herself up by leaning on her knees.

  “You gonna be all right, Mom?”

  Madison took a deep breath and replied, “Yeah. You know, who needs a fancy alarm system when all you have to do is tie a few dogs to the trees around your property.”

  Alex nodded. “For sure. I’ve gotta pee.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve gotta pee. I almost wet myself when we came face-to-face with that pit bull. Now I’ve really gotta go.”

  “Go.” Madison laughed. “I’ll wait here and hold up the fence.”

  Out of habit, or modesty, Alex walked around the fence and took care of business behind some shrubs. She snapped the fanny pack in place and adjusted her holster. All of the running had discombobulated her ninja-rescuer ensemble.

  She started to join her mom when a shadow caught her eye. She stopped and dropped to one knee. She glanced over at her mom, who was still leaning back against the fence.

  “Mom,” said Alex, barely above a whisper. “Mom, come over here. Hurry!”

  Madison ran to join her and the two crouched under the limbs of a crepe myrtle tree. Alex quickly retrieved the FLIR monocular and scanned the yards and open field. She could make out two figures walking a hundred feet apart. They were heading in the direction of the loudmouth pit bull.

  “Whadya see?”

  “Two people walking toward the dog,” said Alex. “C’mon, let’s go this way.”

  Alex didn’t hesitate and took off toward the right to put the houses between them and the approaching figures. They ran through a couple of front yards and then dashed between two homes along their joint driveway.

  Now Alex had a clear view down the street and across several open spaces. She looked through the FLIR again.

  “Dang it,” muttered Alex.

  “More?”

  “Yeah,” replied Alex. “I see at least three. They’re all spread out, just like the other two. We can run through the yards like we have been. We should be okay.”

  “Let’s go, then,” encouraged Madison, who patted her daughter on the back.

  Alex took off in a sprint toward the highway. Madison followed, but she was slower and fell behind. Alex cut through a fence opening and turned back toward the road, attempting to avoid a large open field that led to a church up ahead.

  HRUMPH.

  UGH.

  Alex heard her mom grunt. She turned around and Madison wasn’t behind her. Alex doubled back to see where her mom had gone.

  Madison was on the ground and the dark figure of a man was standing over her. Alex immediately began to shake. She suppressed her fear and gathered her strength. Her mom was in trouble.

  Alex carefully approached them with her gun raised—sights trained on the man’s back. She resisted the urge to shoot because she didn’t want to bring his friends down upon her. Alex moved slowly, walking h
eel to toe.

  The man was leaning down to her mom. Alex closed faster. The man was grabbing for Madison’s arms. Alex was almost on top of him when she stuck the barrel of the AR-15 at the base of his skull.

  “You get your hands off my mother,” she hissed in the man’s ear.

  The man slowly began to raise his arms, but it wasn’t fast enough for Alex.

  “Now!” she growled at him.

  “Okay, okay!”

  He stood and slowly backed away, the muzzle still firmly planted against his back. Alex walked backwards until she stopped, allowing the gun to press deeper into his flesh.

  “Gee,” the man started, “now I see why they call you Allie-Cat.”

  Chapter 36

  DAY SEVENTEEN

  9:00 p.m., September 25

  Pickwick Street

  Savannah, Tennessee

  Colton studied the map and allowed the backstory of Ma Durham and her deranged son Junior to sink in. Being in the entertainment business, Colton thought this was the kind of stuff movies were made of. Unfortunately, he didn’t like the fact that his family was stuck in the middle of this horror flick.

  “She had a brilliant plan, all set into motion under the guise of protecting the local businesses from looters,” continued Coach. “As the news stories began to break, Ma and Junior rallied their political cronies from around the community. They moved quickly to barricade the major roads in and out of town. This made sense to prevent outsiders from infiltrating the town and pillaging our homes.”

  “We saw that other small communities were doing the same thing on our way down here,” added Colton.

  “She also did something else, supposedly for the good of the community,” said Coach. “She reminded everyone about what had happened to stores and businesses after Hurricane Katrina. People who claimed to be poor and downtrodden, simply looking for food, were carrying computers and televisions out of storefronts. She vowed that wouldn’t happen in her town, so she dispatched newly deputized locals and issued weapons to them. They surrounded the major stores like Walmart and Lowe’s first.”

  “In the name of security, I suppose,” interjected Colton.

  “Exactly, except it was really intended to commandeer the contents. She even released all of the inmates who would swear allegiance to her and Junior.”

  “And gave them guns?”

  “Oh yeah,” replied Coach.

  “I gather that you aren’t one of the newly deputized minions of the Durham regime?” asked Colton.

  “I’m on the wrong side of the political fence,” replied Coach. “I was a staunch and vocal supporter of her opponent.”

  “Not good,” said Colton.

  “Nope, not in a small town. Not only am I not deputized, I’m considered a fugitive at the top of her enemies list.”

  Colton shook his head in disbelief. What kind of town is this?

  “Enemies list?”

  “Yessir,” Coach replied. “Within days after the power went out, Junior was given a list from his ma. People who registered their guns were approached first. Their weapons were confiscated for the good of the safety of the public. Second, she began to confiscate operating vehicles for the use of her police force.”

  “Let me guess, for the safety of the citizens.” Colton laughed. “It sounds like she’s running this town through fear and muscle.”

  “It’s in her genes.” Coach laughed. “Then she began rounding up the disdants, as that nitwit Junior calls us.”

  “Disdants?” asked Colton.

  “The idiot means to say dissidents. The disdants are those who opposed Ma Durham politically or who refused to toe the line after the power grid collapsed.”

  “You’re on the run too,” said Colton.

  “Sort of. We prefer to look at ourselves as the resistance.”

  Coach led them out of his hidden war room and secured the doors. As they reentered the kitchen, two hundred twenty pounds of muscle in the form of Jimbo Bennett came running down the stairs. Before Colton could ask Coach more details about their resistance, Jimbo made an announcement.

  “Coach, we’ve found ’em!” he yelled before hitting the landing with a thud.

  “Oh, thank God!” exclaimed Colton, spontaneously slapping Coach on the back.

  “Great news, Jimbo,” said Coach.

  Jimbo joined them and immediately handed Coach one of the two-way radios.

  “There’s a problem,” he started. “I guess a bunch of dawgs up there raised a ruckus and Junior’s boys heard it. He’s sent several men up there to check it out.”

  “How many, you reckon?”

  “Four or five carloads,” replied Jimbo. “Junior means business.”

  Coach began to scroll the channels of his two-way radio. “What’s today’s number?”

  “Bill Baxter.”

  Colton looked puzzled.

  “Twenty-three,” muttered Coach. “We use a different channel to broadcast amongst our folks each day. Baxter wears number twenty-three. He’s our starting tailback.”

  Coach found the channel and spoke into the microphone. “Tiger tails. Tiger tails. Red right. Red right. Twenty-five pull trap. Twenty-five pull trap. On go.”

  “What was that?” asked Colton.

  “We have a code to broadcast emergency instructions in situations like these,” replied Coach. “It’s based upon our offensive and defensive play calling system. Heads refers to a defensive formation and tails refers to an offensive maneuver. In this case, Tiger refers to the resistance. Tails refers to an offensive plan.”

  “The rest sounds like French to me.” Colton laughed.

  “Good,” said Coach. “We have the town divided into four quadrants. The north side, everything above Highway 64, is blue.”

  “The south side is red,” surmised Colton. “And right?”

  “Right is east of County Road 128, where we are now. West is everything across the street toward the river. Twenty-five refers to our secure house on Twenty-Fifth Street. The home is owned by Mark and Leslie Bryant. She’s our school principal.”

  “They’re not on the enemies list?” asked Colton.

  “Nah,” replied Coach. “Leslie used to be Junior’s guidance counselor in high school. Despite all of his antics as a kid, she gave him a break, hoping he’d straighten out. Mark stayed out of the politics of Savannah, which has kept him off Ma’s enemies list. Ironically, he’s the minister at Graham Chapel, which is the rally point you’ll be going to.”

  “What does pull trap mean?” asked Colton, still intrigued by the complex code utilized by Coach and the Tiger resistance.

  “Pull trap refers to a ruse or diversion. We use it often just to aggravate Junior and the boys when we’re up to something.”

  “Like what?” asked Colton.

  “Junior has a tendency to overreact when we start an operation,” replied Coach. “He’ll pull guards from the businesses to respond to our diversion, and while the cat’s away, the mice will play, as they say!”

  Colton laughed but was anxious to get to his girls. “What do I do?”

  Jimbo emerged from a bedroom with two shotguns. He handed one to Coach together with a handful of shells.

  The front door opened and Clay entered with a backpack. “Sorry I’m late,” said Clay. “They’re all over down around the creek, looking for him.” Clay handed Coach a heavy backpack, which he slung over his shoulder.

  “Clay, this sure is heavy,” admonished Coach.

  “You didn’t say how many, so I filled ’er up,” said Clay.

  “That’s fine, son. Now listen up. You boys get Mr. Ryman safely to his family. I’ll rally up with the team over at the Bryants’ house. Monitor the radio for a signal, although you’ll know it before I broadcast it.”

  “Coach, I don’t know how I can thank you,” started Colton. He began to shake Coach’s hand and then gave him an awkward hug.

  “Colton, you just take care of that family of yours. I’m sure we’ll cross
paths again. Boys?”

  “Tigers!” exclaimed Jimbo and Clay in unison.

  “Tigers!” replied Coach, who then fist bumped with his linebackers. “Let’s do this!”

  Chapter 37

  DAY EIGHTEEN

  Midnight, September 26

  Graham Chapel Methodist Church

  Clifton Road

  Savannah, Tennessee

  The two-way radio squawked. “Tiger tails. Tiger tails. Red right. Red right. Twenty-five pull trap. Twenty-five pull trap. On go.”

  Beau heard the call to action from his dad. He was waiting for the other two members of the team to join up with them at Graham Chapel. Beau knew things were going to get hairy as Junior’s men came callin’. He really needed to get these ladies on the road, but they needed to wait on Colton. Patience, he reminded himself repeatedly.

  “What did all that mean?” asked Alex.

  “It means, dawlin’, that we’re fixin’ to get you folks the heck outta Dodge.” Beau laughed, trying to lighten the mood. He and Alex stood at the front of the church near a massive organ whose pipes rose to the ceiling.

  Alex stared at him and crossed her arms, the dim light of one of the guy’s flashlights providing just enough illumination for Beau to see her reaction.

  “You think you’re cute, but you’re not,” she lied. “And you’re not funny either.”

  “All the other cheerleader types would disagree, ma’am,” Beau shot back, deciding to tease Alex a little. He’d never forget her steely composure when she’d pointed that rifle at the back of his head. This girl was no cheerleader, at least not anymore.

  “What makes you think I’m a cheerleader?” asked Alex.

  Madison was standing to the side and took a step toward them. Beau smiled at her, causing her to stop.

  “Well, for one thing you’re a spunky one and—” started Beau, who stopped talking suddenly.

  Alex closed the gap between them. She was close enough for Beau to feel her breath, and kiss her, if he dared. Alex whispered in his ear. His face went pale and Beau never repeated what Alex promised to do to his manhood if he ever called her spunky again. Alex turned and walked away to join her mom. Beau would never know about the big smile Alex had on her face as she put her arm around Madison.