A Haunt of Jackals

by G. R. Carter

  “Women, too, Sarge,” McCoy reminded him. “That Kara Bradshaw is a force of nature, and her staff is amazing.” McCoy did nothing to hide his admiration of Ridgeview Lodge’s leader.

  Morton smiled a little at McCoy. “Right, sorry. Women, too. I’m glad for everyone’s help. We got a lot of ground to cover, even with a group like Bohrmann’s to help out.”

  “Yeah, two hundred and fifty people sounds like a lot before you take out old folks and kids. Then split it up into shifts, take out some who are needed for chores or taking care of livestock, or fixing things…We’re gonna be spread thin for good security,” McCoy agreed.

  Morton looked back towards the lodge. “Quite a mix of people the Bradshaws have here. I think I even spotted a couple of the Kaplan family staying in a camper here on the property.”

  “That surprises you?” McCoy asked.

  “Sure it does. Can’t imagine the Kaplans ever leaving their place. Lot of hard feelings between that clan and the other locals.”

  “You said it was a big family. Maybe some of them are afraid of the tribes, too. Decided here was safer.”

  Morton shook his head. “I don’t think so. Looking back now, I think it was them that tried to raid the prison to get the fuel. And I’d swear they were there at the loading docks when we escaped.”

  McCoy looked surprised at the information. Morton continued, “By now, I’d guess they’ve looted that food warehouse. Probably stole any truck and wagon not under guard to steal every rat bar they could. Between them and Lewis’ National Guard group coming back for another load, the whole place is probably empty.”

  “No disrespect, Sarge, but don’t you think you’re giving a bunch of Syn cookers too much credit?”

  Morton’s glare nearly wilted his young protégé. “Whatever you think of people like that, they’re smart and completely ruthless. Don’t ever underestimate them.”

  McCoy looked away from Morton’s icy eyes. “So you think they had someone on the inside?”

  “I’m sure of it. We knew they had family doing time inside, but the belief was they were estranged. I’m thinking we got played.”

  McCoy thought about it for a minute, once more kicking his boot through the dirt. “One of ours,” he said quietly. “So Santos didn’t just switch sides when the inmates took over. He was already working for them…probably more than just him. Is that what Watson was trying to tell you?”

  Morton’s didn’t answer as he let McCoy’s mind walk through the scenario. He needed to learn to think strategically, not just instinctively.

  McCoy’s eyes narrowed in frustration. “Sarge, how are we going to know who to trust out here? I like the Bradshaws. And Bohrmann’s crew seems decent. But like you said, it’s a strange mix. And there aren’t many we really know ourselves.”

  “You forget, I’m a local, too. I’ve known most of these people all my life, good and bad.” Morton’s look went to a distant place. “Besides, better here than back in town or at the prison,” he said.

  “Who do you suppose got control?” McCoy asked. “You knew those tribes better than anyone.”

  Instinctively Morton looked in the direction of Mt. Sterling. They could still see black smoke rising above the tree lined horizon. “I imagine it’s not settled yet. But figure whoever forms the right alliances will come out on top. Otherwise they’ll tear each other apart until nothing’s left.”

  “Cha Cha’s Code 11s were the biggest. Put them together with Trevino’s group and they’d be able to overwhelm the others,” McCoy offered.

  “That’s the safe bet. But if the Kaplans really were pulling the strings on the others, they’d have the weapons and the Syn to be able to buy loyalty. I’m hoping the two sides, or three sides or whatever, tear each other up.”

  McCoy still wasn’t satisfied. “When one of the tribes consolidates the survivors, what then?” he asked. His expression and nervous twitch suggested he may not want to know the answer.

  “The leaders of all those tribes are smart. Whoever still stands at the end will know if they can’t feed the tribe they can’t control the tribe.”

  “They’ll have the rat bars.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Even if the Kaplans win, not everyone will want to join up. There will be pockets of the other tribes still around, trying to make a go of it. Bunch of wanna be shot callers trying to be the big man. Even twenty or thirty sharks together could cause major problems.” He chuckled nervously. “Can you imagine any Code 11s working with someone like Hector Kaplan?”

  McCoy shook his head. “The picture you’re painting ain’t too pretty, Sarge. Imagine all them sharks coming off their Syn highs.” He scratched his head as he thought through the scenario. “Dear lord, what happens if those surviving inmates run out of food? They might all come out here to the lodge!”

  Morton hollered and waved to Sy to move his tractor to the next spot. “If they show up…” he began to say, then paused. “When they show up, McCoy, we find out if those foxholes are our salvation, or our graves.”

  A Haunt of Jackals is set in the world of the Fortress Farm books.

  Other Books by G.R. Carter:

  The Pullback

  Shield of the Okaw

  Red Hawk Rising

  Against the Storm

  An Early Fall

  The Dead of Winter

  Also Available

  Dawn of Darkness

  Fortress Farm Trilogy

  For more information on the science behind the fiction visitwww.FortressFarm.com

  Excerpt from The Pullback

  Book One in the Fortress Farm Series

  Renaissance Tower Building – Downtown St. Louis

  Day One of the Great Reset

  The day GRAPEVINE put computers to sleep and darkness fell across America, Antonio “Little Tony” Diamante knew instinctively that something irrevocably awful had occurred. Lights around the city didn’t work, workstations were completely dead...even the Wristbands Americans used to access everything in their lives simply sat on their arms like a piece of jewelry. Relief washed over him when the secondary power system his tech staff designed relit the interior lights of his apartment. But when no outside access was available, he knew quickly the city lacked its internal electric heart.

  By afternoon of the first dark day, the Chief Executive Officer of Rosenberg, Kane & Associates sent junior partners to contact all the major power players in the city. His message called for a meeting first thing in the morning to provide information on a solution to their mounting crisis. He considered requesting a night meeting, but remembered there would be no street lights to or even cars to navigate the trip. Besides, police already had their hands full keeping a lid on a bewildered citizenry going through connectivity withdrawals. They couldn’t provide night escorts for all the VIPs on the invite list.

  As city leaders approached Renaissance Tower, Tony knew they would be curious why ARK’s headquarters continued to emit light in the blackout. The warm glow spilling out to the street was the only noticeable light for blocks in any direction. None of the others were aware of the tens of millions of dollars Tony spent to create a parallel computing system, completely cut off from the artificial intelligence known as GRAPEVINE. The moment GRAPEVINE failed, their Renaissance super computer kicked in, driving vital equipment like the backup generators hidden in the basement. Huge tanks of diesel fed the generators to provide all the electricity they needed for the near future.

  Thank you, Nicole, Tony thought, referring to his associate Nicole Kelley, his brilliant Director of Special Projects. Maybe more than just an associate now, Tony thought, allowing himself a moment of happiness in a suddenly dark world.

  A void in real city leadership meant almost everyone showed up to Tony’s meeting. Some came to Renaissance Tower because of curiosity, others knew that Tony made things happen – they were all sure he must have a plan. One thing they were confident in was that they were entirely safe in Tony’s building; a forty-six-story stone
and steel fortress with retail and food courts on ground level, offices in the middle, and living quarters for Tony’s most trusted executives and security personnel on top. The entire 13th floor served as conference meeting rooms – Tony loved the irony that so many powerful people believed in old superstitions. Make your own luck, or others will make it for you, Tony remembered his father teaching him.

  This was a big meeting, and powerful people had big entourages. Tony requested the main conference room be seated with only the primary invitee and his or her second in command. Entourages were well taken care of in smaller glass-walled side rooms, entertained with fresh food from Tony’s farmland connections. No ration bars were ever served in Renaissance Tower. Nobody asked how he got the illegal items; not the mayor, nor the city council, nor the District Supervisor from the Department of the Interior. They were all weekly beneficiaries of anonymous fresh food shipments appearing at their homes.

  Thirty-one different mini-empires finally settled into the room by mid–morning. Government agencies of all levels plus business leaders and the legal community were present. These days, “the legal community” meant Tony and six of the other heads of the major families in St. Louis that were once known as “La Cosa Nostra.” These days, they were just called “the Firms.”

  As the last of his guests settled into their chairs, Tony smiled to himself. He was the first mover, and this was the first mover's advantage. Even the leaders of M&C Consultants, Tony’s biggest rival in the city, were in attendance. Any one of these powerful people could have called this meeting, but everyone was too scared or busy trying to figure out why they couldn’t check their email. Some were probably irritated that their favorite junior partner hadn’t been able to make it in to work on the electric trolleys for two days.

  Time to tell them why.

  Tony confidently strode up to the elevated riser four feet above the floor. He was already a large man and the podium was designed to make him appear as though floating above his audience. He looked down at notes that he didn’t need, and paused for dramatic effect. When he raised his eyes to look at the gathered brain trust of the city, he seemed to lock in each one with his words.

  “My friends, the world changed when the first Solar Storms started to appear in our sky just a few years ago. Doing what Americans do best, we came together and figured out a solution to the problems, a solution that actually created a better world for our fellow man. With our ingenuity and hard work, our investors and our families were secure prosperity for generations. Or so we thought.”

  I’ve got them right now, I can feel it, Tony thought. They’re scared, and don’t understand what’s happening to them. None of them are used to that powerless feeling. More importantly, they’re desperate to hang on to their power and privilege. That’s pathetic, but useful.

  Tony continued, “I’ve been up all night talking to our technical experts. I needed answers about what happened and what can be done to reverse it. We haven’t been able to contact GRAPEVINE, and to our knowledge, no one else has, either. Even if we could get reconnected right now, our programmers believe a significant amount of damage has already occurred.

  “In short, if the Internet shut–down order can be reversed immediately, they believe things can be back to normal within…” Tony paused for effect, “eight months to a year.”

  Tony could hear the gasps from the most intelligent of the group. Others nodded their heads, as though it was good to hear that someone discovered a solution for them. The smarter ones knew that without power and internet signal, food rations would be hoarded and supply warehouses would be empty in a week. A desperate populace would set off a cascade of anarchy, turning the city into a burning wreck. That was the best-case scenario. The chaos might actually start any time as police and fire departments began to desert their posts and protect their own families.

  Citizens whose life revolved around staying in touch through devices, accessing food rations with Wristbands, occupied by constant digital streaming entertainment, now sat in the dark, waiting for the lights to flicker back on. Before long, those millions of citizens' confusion would turn to fear, then to desperation. In short, the smartest in the room realized they were sitting on a powder keg.

  Time to set the hook.

  “My friends, please! If I could have your attention! We can work through this together,” Tony shouted over the murmuring crowd.

  Amid the confused chatter, Tony noticed both directors of M&C Consultants get up and motion to their entourage to leave. The smartest want to get started right now, because every moment will count. M&C and a few others would be ruthless enough to seize the opportunity, already formulating how best to take advantage of the situation. Survive...it’s what our Families have always done.

  Tony suddenly considered something: I wonder if they knew this was coming ahead of time. Did they help orchestrate it or were they just pawns that got used? Maybe they just realized their new religion shut down along with GRAPEVINE. Either way, they’ll be thinking of a way to capitalize.

  Tony had expected M&C to make their move. He gave an imperceptible nod to Bobby Costello, head of the ARK security forces known as the Peacekeepers. Dressed in the duty uniform of all black Under Armor shirt, black trousers and black combat boots, Bobby smiled to the group leaving and walked with them. He motioned to a small group of his Peacekeepers to help escort them through the fortress-style layers of protection surrounding ARK. Everyone who attended the meeting knew that ARK assured the safety of even their most bitter of rivals on occasions like this. That’s how business was done when a city-wide meeting was called.

  Not today. Tony knew the world had changed overnight, though he would never know exactly what happened to the men from M&C or the others who left with them. That was Bobby’s side of the family business.

  That took care of rooting out the smart and brave ones. Next, the smart and scared ones.

  “I do have some good news. I have instructed the Peacekeepers to make sure all food warehouses are well secured, and to prepare to move the rations and medical supplies to a more defensible location. I understand some will object, but please understand, high-profile government facilities will be the first to be looted. It could happen any moment. Fortunately, some of our city police have agreed to escort my men to the new locations. Their help is most welcome, and I would like to thank Chief Bert Thomas for his help in arranging all this,” Tony said as he nodded to the fat uniform in the front row.

  The look of shock on the paper pusher’s face was priceless. Chief Thomas knew the Firms had cops on the payroll. He was one who accepted monthly gifts his entire career; graft became a part of doing business in the city over two hundred years before. But the Chief and all other “loyal” public servants thought in the end they would still be the ones to call the shots. Wrong. Tony pulled off his city-wide coup before a single bureaucrat realized what happened to the authority they held so dear.

  Gradually, the color came back to the Chief’s face, and he simply nodded, as though too dignified to accept the praise. He was a slob and a thief, but also smart enough to recognize a stacked deck. If he got up and stormed out, the Peacekeepers would make sure he never made it back to Police Headquarters.

  He just came to the realization that his Assistant Chief was already in on it and anxious to get a promotion. That will help calm him a little…no choice to be made but to go along. No choice, no problem.

  The smart but scared people in the group now had their excuse to follow Tony’s lead. The police department stood behind his plan, adding a level of authority to the seizure of the storehouses.

  Ok, let’s try to push the issue.

  “Now, that amount of food ARK secured for you can take care of millions of people for two weeks. What happens then?” Pause again. “I’ll tell you what happens…chaos. Even if the power comes on in two weeks, the snowball is already rolling. So as leaders we have a difficult choice. Either we try to keep everyone calm and pray for a miracle…
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  “…Or we make the tough choice right now to salvage what we can and preserve what we worked so hard to create.”

  “Ok, Tony, what’s your brilliant idea to save the world?” asked St. Louis’s illustrious mayor, Paula Romano. She was probably one of the smartest, and certainly most ruthless, of anyone in the room. She was from one of the old neighborhoods and tough as nails. But she also had four kids at home, and all her extended family lived in the city limits. Tony guessed that put her firmly in the “scared” camp.

  “I understand your skepticism, Mayor,” Tony replied. “I want you to know that I’m not implying this will be simple. But you understand the logistics of feeding an entire city better than anyone. The people in this room need to decide right now how we can save the maximum number of people. Gathered here are the best and brightest of our city. If we are to rebuild on what we all know will be a gruesome situation, who better to rebuild with? I know it sounds harsh, but it’s not us versus the people. It’s us versus starvation, and the stakes are the very survival of civilization.”

  Roars erupted from certain parts of the room. Bobby was back in the room now, and didn’t need to be told to make mental notes of who caused the ruckus. Cameras would remind them of anyone they overlooked. Mock outrage mixed with the real thing. These were people who had assumed power in a variety of different ways. Feigned offense was a sure-thing money maker in certain parts of the city.

  Tony waited for the voices to settle. The implication didn’t need to be stated out loud. Tony had pulled a coup just by emptying out a few warehouses and hiding the contents. The unimaginable horrors of riot and starvation were sure to follow a few days of no electricity or food in the city. He was offering everyone here a chance to save themselves and their families from that fate.