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

by Bobby Akart

  The door swung open and the other two boys joined the group. Beau got serious and circled his team around him.

  “Huddle up, guys,” said Beau. He glanced to where Alex and Madison were standing, and smiled. He was smitten with Alex, despite her idle threats. “Dad’s gonna raise a little ruckus on the south side to pull Junior’s boys in the wrong direction. Any minute, there are gonna be cars runnin’ up and down the street, lookin’ for these ladies. As soon as Mr. Ryman arrives, I’m gonna take them and lead them north out of town. I need y’all to fan out east and west of here to create more diversions.”

  One of the boys asked, “How much of a diversion?”

  “Not huge.” Beau laughed. “No need to blow anything up, y’all. Besides, I think Dad’ll have that covered.”

  All the boys gathered around Beau as he called out the plays. “Set the sirens off at the Hardee’s again. They’ve not been guardin’ it. Somebody get the dogs to barkin’. Start a brush fire over on Shell Street. That’ll bring ’em runnin’ out of the nursin’ home. Stuff like that.”

  “Got it!”

  “Git goin’ and monitor two-three. Tigers!”

  “Tigers!”

  The boys grabbed their gear and hustled out the back door of the church. All wore their team colors in the form of jerseys or tee shirts. They were committed to their team and their cause.

  Beau flopped into a church pew and turned up the volume on his two-way radio. He had channel twenty-three on the presets, but he wanted to monitor the other frequencies to listen for Junior’s men, who were undoubtedly patrolling the streets on the north side of town.

  Madison walked over to Beau and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Beau, I wanna thank you for risking so much to help us. Please tell your mom and dad thanks as well, okay.”

  Beau nodded and dropped his chin to his chest. “My mom passed a while back. She had breast cancer.”

  Alex heard this and joined them. Beau was now flanked on the pew by both of the Ryman women.

  “Beau, I’m sorry to hear that. She was so young,” said Madison.

  “Yeah, that’s what everybody says,” said Beau as he looked up at the large cross with an effigy of Jesus hanging from it. “Somehow, God didn’t get the memo that thirty-nine-year-old women are too young to be taken by the cancer.”

  The three sat quietly for a moment as Beau mindlessly scrolled through the channels. The premature death of his mom bothered him more than he usually let on. For some reason, he was comfortable talking about it with these strangers.

  “God’s thoughts are higher than ours, Beau,” started Madison. “He has purposes we can’t comprehend.”

  Beau nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I told Jimbo and Clay when that drunk driver killed their parents on the way home from Memphis one night. I read them Isaiah 55 and everything.”

  “Are they your friends you referred to earlier?” asked Alex.

  “Yeah, best friends. Brothers now, actually. Our dads grew up together, played ball at Hardin County and all.” Beau started laughing.

  “What?” asked Alex.

  “Dad said Mr. and Miz Bennett left them to us in their will.”

  All three of them started laughing.

  “We’re brothers in more ways than one,” added Beau.

  Alex leaned into Beau and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He looked at her through sad eyes and smiled, indicating his thanks.

  The back door opened and two burly young men entered with their rifles pointed into the sanctuary. They appeared to be alone.

  “Beau, you here?”

  “Yeah, front row,” replied Beau.

  “Everything cool?”

  “Yeah, sure. Come on in.”

  For several excruciating seconds, the boys stood there. Finally, Jimbo turned and said, “Okay.”

  Colton emerged from the dark hallway behind the choir section.

  “Daddy!” exclaimed Alex, who shot out of the front-row pew like a rocket.

  “Thank God,” said Madison as she covered her face and burst into tears. She was frozen to her seat, unable to move.

  “C’mon, Mrs. Ryman,” said Beau as he helped Madison to her feet. Colton and Alex ran to her, and the family reunited amidst tears and hugs.

  Beau took the Bennett boys to the side to allow the Rymans to have their moment. He stared at Alex the entire time. He’d never met a girl like her before. Beau doubted he could talk them into staying in this tangled mess of a town. But he would make sure she knew she was welcome back anytime.

  Beau queued the two-way radio and announced, “Tiger in the tank. Tiger in the tank.”

  He explained the plan to his brothers and they waited for the signal. The Rymans were now sitting in a pew together, exchanging the details of their day. Then it came.

  “Tiger power! Tiger go!”

  Chapter 38

  DAY EIGHTEEN

  3:00 a.m., September 26

  Off Clifton Road

  Bucktown, Tennessee

  Along the south side of Highway 64, Coach and his Tigers had strategically placed fifty-five-gallon drums for operations like this one. Dropping an M-80 or cherry bomb into an open drum magnified the explosion many times over by directing the sound up and then out into the sky. The explosions, coupled with strategically placed brush fires, lent the appearance that the city was under attack.

  As expected, in his typical reactionary fashion, Junior pulled his men toward the source of the explosions and corresponding fire. Coach, not allowing a great diversion to go to waste, directed his Tiger disdants to conduct smash-and-grab operations at any abandoned businesses. The distraction allowed Beau and the Bennett boys to escort the Rymans out of town without incident and his team restocked their supplies in the process. It was a win-win for all involved, except for Junior and Ma Durham, of course.

  The barking dogs and the ruckus created by the Tigers on the north side of town served a vital purpose as well. Junior’s men chased their tails, looking for the source of the commotion. They even pulled the roadblock from the Clifton Road bridge crossing over the creek. Colton was thrilled with that call, as he really didn’t want to wade through the murky water at 3:00 a.m., which might be full of copperheads.

  He and Madison stood to the side as Alex said good-bye to the young man who’d helped reunite the family and risked the lives of his dad and friends in the process.

  “I have to be honest about something, Beau,” said Alex. “You are kinda cute.”

  Beau crowed with laughter. Then, as young men so often do, Beau pushed his luck. “Oh really, confession is good for the soul. So, Miss Ryman, when did you first notice my good looks?”

  Alex smacked the side of her AR-15. “When I had this pointed at the back of your head.” She laughed. “I thought to myself—self, it sure would be a shame to blow this pretty boy’s head clean off his shoulders, but I’ll sure do it if he doesn’t let go of my mother.”

  “Oh,” said Beau.

  “Yeah, oh,” said Alex.

  “Does that mean I ain’t got a chance with you? You know, for a date or somethin’.”

  Alex laughed. “That depends. Do you date cheerleaders?”

  “No,” he replied.

  “Well, then you’ve got a chance ’cause I’m not a cheerleader.”

  “Woo hoo,” shouted Beau as he raised his hand to give Alex a high five. She slapped it back and then gave him another kiss on the cheek.

  “Thank you, Beau,” she whispered into his ear, taking her time pulling away from his neck.

  “You’re welcome, Alex,” said Beau, who immediately spun and exchanged fist bumps with his brothers-in-arms, Jimbo and Clay.

  “Bye, boys,” shouted Alex as she turned to join her parents on the bridge. She slung her rifle over her shoulder and didn’t look back as they shouted to her.

  “Hey, you don’t have any sisters, do ya?”

  “Or even a cousin. Yeah, cousins will do. Got any cousins?”

  “Bye, guys,” replied Al
ex. “Thank you!”

  The family began the trek up the mountain to where the Wagoneer was stashed. It gave them a chance to talk further and plan their next move. They left the violence of the day back in Savannah and began to dream about their future.

  Chapter 39

  DAY EIGHTEEN

  8:00 a.m., September 26

  Off Clifton Road

  Bucktown, Tennessee

  They’d all slept during the night until sunrise. Colton chose to watch over the girls while they caught up on their sleep. The power nap he’d taken in Coach’s cellar gave him all the rest he needed.

  Colton liked mornings. Before the collapse, both Madison and Alex preferred to sleep in or catch up on their lost sleep. Somewhere along the line, in the handbook of how to live like a Ryman girl, they’d determined that the concept of getting their beauty sleep meant sleeping in too. Colton really didn’t mind. Sometimes, he enjoyed the quiet time early in the morning to think or shuffle around doing Colton things. Even in the post-apocalyptic world, he found himself maintaining some aspects of his old routine.

  Colton made sure all of the magazines for the weapons were full and he did a quick inventory of their ammunition levels. They had a little over a hundred rounds for the AR-15 and nearly two hundred rounds for the nine-millimeter handguns. He thought that would be enough. How much is enough?

  The water supply was in critical status. He threw out the ruined bottles from the piercing arrow and gathered up the empty ones to refill.

  As they’d walked back to the truck in the early hours of the morning, they’d crossed a culvert under the road, which diverted a stream down the hill. It was only a few hundred feet from where they were hidden, so Colton grabbed the empty bottles, their LifeStraw, and a bar of soap. Scruffing his seven-day stubble and a whiff of his armpits reminded Colton that he was a little gamey. He might not have time to shave, but at least he’d clean up a little bit for the girls.

  As he walked toward the small creek, he thought about the ups and downs of life. One man’s challenges might be greater than another’s, but life presented challenges to all of us nonetheless. Colton considered himself fortunate in that he’d had a partner for most of his adult life to face the toughest of times.

  Over the last few weeks, there had been a lot of conversation with his family about the concept of preparedness and what prepping entailed. He’d determined that the single most important item on any prepper’s checklist was to have a partner who loved and supported you. Colton had Madison to navigate through the curves on the road of life. Each new day presented life-threatening challenges. With Madison and Alex by his side, Colton would round every bend unafraid.

  Colton jogged down the road until he reached the culvert. He slid down the embankment until he reached the point where the water was flowing through the pipe, creating a shower effect. This was too good to pass up.

  Using the LifeStraw, he pulled water out of a puddle and dribbled it into the water bottles. It was a slow process, but worth it. Colton considered this twenty-dollar device the single most important item Madison had purchased in the lead-up to the solar storm. Water was life. Contaminated water led to dysentery, diarrhea, vomiting, dehydration and then death. It was that simple.

  Colton glanced around to make sure there were no peeping Toms, or bears, around. He stripped down and stepped under the cold mountain water pouring out of the culvert. He would never do this in the city. The many streams and creeks that dotted the mountainous landscape fed the Tennessee River from underground reservoirs. This made for a perfect hillbilly shower and Colton cleaned himself up quickly.

  He began to think about the remainder of the trip. They were so close, yet their route was going to take them well out of the way. He wasn’t sure if he had enough gas to make it based upon his calculations. They definitely didn’t have the extra gas for any more confrontations or car chases.

  He was walking up the road, still running his hands through his wet hair, when he saw the debris in the road near their campsite. An empty Ritz cracker box and the lid of a peanut butter jar lay in the middle of the street from their food supply.

  Colton’s heart raced. He reached for his gun and realized he’d left it in the truck. I was only gonna be gone a few minutes. Panicked, he dropped everything and raced back until he found the trail.

  He dug in his feet and ran up the hill, slipping twice and ripping open his jeans. He scrambled past an empty water bottle, which wasn’t there before. Oh God, what have I done? Colton’s heart was beating out of his chest and his face was covered with sweat. His legs couldn’t move him up the hill fast enough.

  Colton burst into the clearing and shouted. “Madison! Alex!”

  There was debris everywhere on the ground. They didn’t respond.

  “Maddie!” he yelled as he ran towards the tent tucked away by the back side of the Wagoneer.

  Colton rounded the tailgate when he came face-to-face with the marauders—Mr. and Mrs. Rocky Raccoon.

  “Colton, is everything okay?” asked a sleepy Madison as she emerged from the tent. Alex crawled through the opening and sat in the grass.

  “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

  Colton turned fifty shades of embarrassment. The marauding raccoons were digging through their food supplies.

  “Go on now, shooo!” he yelled at the ’coons. They moseyed out of the Wagoneer, dragging a box of cereal with them. “Hey! You’ve had enough. Leave that alone and tell your buddies not to come back either!”

  Madison joined him to survey the mess made by the raccoon family. She hugged him around the waist and gave him a morning kiss.

  “Well, aren’t we smelling better.” Madison laughed. “Irish Spring does clean a man up right.”

  Colton bent over to pick up the remains of their food. In that short period of time, several of the critters had almost cleaned them out of their non-canned goods.

  “I feel so stupid,” said Colton, slamming down an empty box of Fruit Loops in disgust. “I was only gone a few minutes. Were they hiding in the woods, waiting for me to leave?”

  “We’re in their neck of the woods, you know.” Madison laughed. Colton didn’t see the humor and continued to clean up the mess. Madison joined him while Alex jogged down the hill to retrieve the water bottles and the LifeStraw.

  They broke camp and loaded up the truck together, but first they reviewed their route options. As the crow flies, as they say, the Rymans were only ten miles from Shiloh and the Allens’ ranch. But to cross the river, they had to drive north ten miles and pick up U.S. Highway 641. Then they would work their way south via backroads to Shiloh, another thirty plus miles.

  Forty miles and four gallons of gas would get them there. Colton estimated they had six gallons left. They had a good shot. Alex volunteered to navigate and ride shotgun. Madison would scour both sides of the road, looking for possible fuel to siphon out of vehicles, lawn equipment or abandoned gas cans.

  Putting the excitement of Savannah and the marauding ’coons behind them, Colton navigated through the small country roads northbound on State Road 128. Everyone was on edge, fearing that the manhunt by Sheriff Junior Durham and his men would expand into other areas of the county. Luckily, they didn’t encounter any other vehicles and made fairly good time as they traveled toward the bridge near Clifton.

  An hour later, Colton turned toward the Tennessee River at Nance Bend. Just as the bridge came into view, Colton jammed on the brakes and forced the Wagoneer to a stop.

  “Oh crap!” exclaimed Alex.

  Madison leaned forward from the backseat. “We should’ve gone into the bridge-guarding business.”

  Chapter 40

  DAY EIGHTEEN

  11:00 a.m., September 26

  Nance Bend Road

  Clifton, Tennessee

  Colton slowly eased the truck in reverse and coasted back down the slight incline in the highway. Thus far, they hadn’t been noticed by the contingent of armed men who occupied the entry to the long b
ridge over the river. Colton didn’t see any vehicles, but he was certain they were nearby.

  “Daddy, now what?”

  “I don’t know, honey,” he replied. Colton continued to ease back until they were out of view of the men. Then he backed onto Nance Bend Road a few hundred feet until the highway was out of sight, and stopped. He had to think.

  Colton rubbed his temples and reached for the map. He looked at it for the tenth time that day. Their next option was to go through the town of Clifton to pick up the next river crossing. But for all he knew, Clifton might be another nightmarish version of Savannah, albeit a smaller one. They could go around the town, which involved backtracking somewhat, but the traveling distance to the next bridge crossing would consume all of their gasoline. He knew going south to the Pickwick Dam was a waste of time. He was at a loss.

  Colton leaned his head back on his seat, closed his eyes, and let out a deep sigh. He said a silent prayer asking for guidance. God’s answer came in the form of a tap on the driver’s window, scaring the bejesus out of him.

  “Howdy, mister,” said a young boy, who was accompanied by an elderly man. “Y’uns all right in there?”

  Alex reached for her pistol and Colton did a quick threat assessment. Neither the old man nor the boy appeared to be armed. He didn’t see anyone else around, so he took a chance.

  “It’s okay, Alex,” he whispered, holding his hand out to reassure her. Colton rolled down the window and spoke to them.

  “Hi, fellas,” started Colton. “I guess, yes, we’re fine. I was gonna say that we’re lost, but that’s not exactly the truth. We know where we wanna go, but we don’t know how to get there without crossing a bridge that some other folks seem to think belongs to them. Does that make any sense?”