by Bobby Akart
The heavy rains that beset the Tennessee River valley over the last three days now threatened to create massive flooding for the land downstream, eroding the river’s banks and flooding land in low-lying areas.
In essence, the Tennessee River was roaring unchecked around the dam, breaching the embankment and compromising the dam abutments. Although the embankment’s core material was sound, it was not designed to accommodate the flow of water being experienced today. It was eroding the earthen structure, which allowed water to seep into the dam’s concrete base.
Several days earlier, Major Tracie Lashley of the 249th learned of the situation and began to conduct a series of inspections of the nine dams and locks that turned the Tennessee River into a nearly seven-hundred-mile river highway. Together with a team of engineers, they traveled by helicopter along the TVA dam system and determined that the ever-rising water levels were steadily accumulating as the final dams in the system were reached.
Wilson Dam, located fifty miles upstream from Pickwick, but over a hundred feet higher in elevation, had begun to fail two days ago. Massive flooding had occurred throughout Northern Alabama as a result. The dispersal of the river’s volume of water was not going to protect the integrity of Pickwick Dam, Major Lashley’s report concluded.
The Pickwick Landing Dam would fail, the report stated, and the results for those downriver might be catastrophic. The small platoon manning the facility received word to evacuate the area for their own safety. Their route to the north was already washed out and they had relocated their encampment to the south side of Pickwick in Mississippi.
The platoon commander, weary of the deployment and tired of being away from his family in Birmingham, weighed his options. Warning residents downstream would involve the platoon traveling the backroads of Northern Mississippi and into the area west of the river in Tennessee. Logistically, this was a nightmare, as the water had already washed away the roads near the base of the dam.
For twenty-four hours, he calculated the rise of the water downstream to only be a foot per day. In his mind, this slow rise would give anyone with a little common sense notice that flooding was a real possibility. It is raining cats and dogs, after all, he thought to himself.
So he made the call and ordered his men to go give the locals notice that the dam might fail, if they wanted to. It was their choice. He was packing up to go home to his wife and kids, far away from the Tennessee River.
Chapter 34
Late Morning, December 2
Childer’s Hill
Water is life. Even under normal conditions, a human being can die in three days without it. In rural America, the weather is discussed often, not as a means to make conversation, but because of its importance in growing crops and hydrating livestock. Many farms don’t have city water, as folks call the vast system of underground pipes that traverse a metropolitan area. They must rely upon their wells for liquid nourishment. Conversations often center around the phrase we need the rain.
There is a point, however, where Mother Nature can provide too much of a good thing. In many Americans’ continuous quest to have a room with a view in the form of oceanfront or riverfront property, oftentimes large volumes of water resulting from storms cause flooding. Hurricanes wash away homes and rising flood waters in low-lying rural communities render landowners helpless against the power of rivers.
It breaks our heart to see the devastation following a hurricane. Homes are knocked off their pilings and washed away. Folks lose their belongings and look around to anyone for help. But don’t you want to ask them—what were you thinking when you built your home next to the mighty Atlantic Ocean in the first place?
Stubby stood with his cooling cup of coffee and stared down at Lick Creek from his perch on a limestone outcropping. The water was rising to the point it was lapping over the base of the covered bridge entering the Wolven property.
Drops of water dripped off his boonie cap, plopping one by one into his coffee, when he heard the faint sound of a boat motor. The high-pitched whine got closer. He pulled his binoculars out of his kit and studied the creek one hundred feet below him.
He recognized the boat as being from Croft Dairies. It was Chase. The skiff slowed as it reached the bridge and Chase struggled to grab the wood railing that supported the structure. One of the ranch hands must’ve recognized Chase because they ran to his aid and tied the boat off on both ends. The gusty winds threatened to tear it loose from its knots. But apparently Chase was satisfied because he began to run up the driveway, rifle in hand.
Stubby met him midway up the hill and took his rifle so that Chase could catch his breath. The young man had come a long way since those reckless forays with Alex. Chase, whose mental errors had put Alex’s life in danger twice, had redeemed himself many times over and was now a trusted member of the group.
“They’ve regrouped and are working their way south,” said Chase in between gasps for air.
“Take your time, Chase,” said Stubby. He put his arm around the young man and led him toward the house. He took a moment to tighten the drawstring on his hat as a gust of wind threatened to carry it away and then Stubby chuckled. “We ain’t in Kansas anymore, Toto.”
Chase began to laugh and shook the water out of his shoulder-length hair like a wet pup. “I brought the boat because it was faster than sloshing through the muck with my horse.”
Then Chase abruptly stopped in the driveway and said, “I saw him, Stubby.”
“Who? Rollie?”
“Yeah. He’s a big guy. That night in the jail after they beat me, I was unconscious and never saw him. He makes Junior look like a shrimp.”
Stubby laughed. He’d known the boys growing up and Rollie was always looking out for his mouthy, smaller brother. Never one to shy from a fight, Rollie regularly whooped up on anyone who dared cross his sibling. Besides, Stubby had heard, Rollie took to smackin’ Junior around on his own from time to time, but considered it to be his prerogative.
“Let’s get you inside and you can relay what you’ve seen to the group,” said Stubby.
Coach Carey and Beau greeted them under the porch roof and handed the guys towels to dry off. Everyone’s clothes were soaked through and through who were on watch that morning, but the suddenly warmer temperatures eased the discomfort.
Alex, Madison, and Colton were inside with Jake when the group got settled by the fire. Chase enjoyed a mug of strong, black coffee, which helped him calm his nerves as well.
“Give us an update, son,” said Jake. Everyone in the house gathered around to hear the latest.
“Okay, well, this morning nine trucks and Humvees arrived all at once. The lead truck had Rollie in it and another officer-looking guy. I don’t know anything about ranks, but Rollie would tell him what to do and then he ordered the rest around. Anyway, they went inside for a while and then Rollie came out with his driver and left.”
Stubby looked to Jake and Colton, catching the men’s eyes to gauge their reaction to this news. Stubby knew what it meant, but he wanted details. “Chase, that left eight trucks. How many men were left behind?”
“I had a hard time counting them because they were milling about, but I’m fairly confident the number was thirty.”
The room fell silent. Madison rubbed her husband’s shoulders and Alex made eye contact with Stubby. He could tell something was on her mind.
“Coach, during your recon of town, how many men would you say Rollie brought with him?” asked Stubby, returning Alex’s stare.
“By our last head count, and keep in mind that was before we all left for Jackson,” started Coach Carey, “the last head count was thirty-eight. If we took out six, that would leave thirty-two.”
Unintentionally, Stubby gave a slight grin. Alex did as well. He immediately wondered if they were on the same page. First things first.
“How are we gonna fight off thirty soldiers?” asked Madison.
“Do we have enough firepower to back them down?” asked Jak
e.
Stubby moved to calm everyone’s concerns. “Okay, I know this sounds bad on the surface, but let me explain to everyone what we have going for us.”
Stubby stood and produced a movie poster portraying John Wayne wearing a coonskin cap and a rifle resting on his shoulder. The irony that the poster featured the movie The Alamo wasn’t lost on anyone. Stubby quickly flipped it over and revealed his rough sketches of Childer’s Hill and the surrounding physical features.
“We will station men at all the key points where Rollie’s people can advance on us. For days, we’ve been identifying rock outcroppings, fallen trees, and other areas to provide us cover. Not only will we have the element of surprise, but we’ll have plenty of protection when we open fire on them.”
“Don’t forget about Lick Creek,” added Fred Wolven. “We’re practically on an island up here, and with the rain we’ve been havin’, that creek can’t be crossed except for the bridge.”
“It’s almost under water,” said Chase. “I brought the skiff up from Shiloh Ranch without a problem. No tree stumps or rocks in the creek. The water is up six feet, at least.”
It then dawned on Stubby that if Lick Creek had backed up to those levels, it was likely the Tennessee River had risen close to that amount as well. He brought the conversation back to the issue of manpower and weaponry.
“We are a much stronger force than we were two weeks ago. Between Javy and the ranch hands, the people in this room and even the Mennonites, who can handle behind-the-lines communications and watch duties, we almost match them man for man. Throw in the fact that we hold the high ground and have a virtually impenetrable location, we’re safer here than we were at Shiloh Ranch.”
“I agree,” said Colton. “We learned that these FEMA guys don’t have their heart in it. Yes, they are trained, but we’ve seen our share of action too. We have more weapons now and plenty of ammo. We’ll be ready for them.”
Chapter 35
Evening, December 2
Childer’s Hill
For the first time in days, the sun made an appearance as the weather broke and an eerie calm spread across Childer’s Hill. The night watch, which consisted of the Mennonite families, took the place of Javy’s men around the perimeter of the property. Using the night vision obtained by Alex following the Holder shooting, the night patrols could easily pick up any large-scale threat by FEMA and sound the alarm.
The setting sun cast hues of purple, pink, and red across the clouds, which were moving off to the northeast. The majority of the group stood transfixed on its descent over the horizon, enjoying the spectacle as millions around the world do every day.
Bessie and Char put together a massive meal of chili, cornbread, and shredded cheese. A fire was roaring inside a fenced enclosure by the barn, hiding it from peering eyes and providing warmth for the group as the night set in.
Stubby told Colton and Jake that he expected Rollie’s men to discover their position tomorrow based upon the reports he’d received from yesterday’s activity. With eight vehicles and thirty men, they were able to cover a lot of ground, especially if they were focused on their target—the people on Childer’s Hill.
Colton wandered across the feed pen and located Alex. She had been watching the interaction from afar while sitting with Beau on an upside-down cattle feeder. The two were quiet as he arrived.
“Y’all doin’ okay?” asked Colton.
“Yes, Daddy,” replied Alex. “We’re just takin’ it all in. You know, this is how life could be if they’d just leave us alone.”
“I know, Alex,” said Colton. “Stubby feels certain they’ll hit us tomorrow sometime and we’ll show them what survival looks like. Pretty soon, folks will stop messin’ with us.”
“Maybe, but not these people,” Alex said. She was not dejected. To the contrary, Alex was incredibly focused on the important events tomorrow might bring. “Daddy, until we deal with the Durhams, we’ll always be threatened.”
Colton didn’t respond.
Alex continued. “Do you know how many times I’ve kicked myself for not killing Ma that night?” she asked before answering her own question. “Every hour since then.”
“I know, Allie-Cat,” said Colton. “The whole town understood the ramifications of their decision. Sure, plenty of people wanted to have a trial and execute them. But others couldn’t bring themselves to do it, despite the atrocities. I firmly believe that you and Stubby did the right thing by apprehending them in order to be held to account.”
“Well, if we’d just killed them, we wouldn’t have been run out of Shiloh Ranch. We wouldn’t be preparing to fight those Marines or whatever.”
Colton responded quickly, “We don’t know that, Alex. Killing Ma and Junior might have made it much worse in dealing with Rollie. How do you think he would have reacted? He commands hundreds of troops with more weapons and resources than we could imagine. He might’ve come down here and wiped the town out instead of just locking people up. So, yeah, I hate the fact that we’ve got to fight for our lives tomorrow. But at least it’s on our terms.”
Alex let her dad’s words soak in. Of course, he was right, partially. She still saw the problem as residing in Savannah within the confines of Cherry Mansion. Until those three were dealt with, her family and friends, including Beau, would never be safe.
“Listen up, everybody,” announced Stubby as he tapped his empty bowl with a spoon.
The murmur of voices died down as people gathered closer to the fire to get warm and listen to Stubby. Once the group had drawn closer, Stubby began.
“We’ve all come together as a group from different backgrounds and in a variety of ways. The storm that knocked our country to its knees has changed people. There are those who were mean-spirited and selfish but were constrained by a nation of laws, now find themselves free to exert their will upon others. There are others, like ourselves, who’ve come from all walks of life. We’ve banded together for a common purpose—survival.”
Alex hopped off the feeder and grabbed Beau by the hand. She gave him a smile and nodded for him to come closer to the fire with her. As they approached, Jimbo and Clay stood to the side to give them a front-row spot near Stubby.
“The course of action we’ve chosen is full of danger, much as life can be anyway. But tomorrow, in all likelihood, we’ll be fighting an opponent who doesn’t know anything more about us than we know about them. They have orders to kill us from a maniacal leader who is part of an even more psychopathic family.
“We’ve learned that since the power went out, society collapsed rapidly. The cost of our safety and survival is high, but we will persevere and survive. No matter what, we will not submit or surrender ourselves to the tyranny of the Durhams.
“Tomorrow, we will turn away this threat, not only for our survival, but because we demand freedom to continue our lives without a cloud of danger over our heads. With God’s help and your strength, we will succeed.”
The group erupted with spontaneous applause. Hugs were shared and high fives were exchanged. Stubby was slapped on the back and afforded praise for providing the uplifting words as the group prepared to fight for their lives.
As the celebration died down, Alex let go of Beau’s hand and whispered to him that she would be right back. She walked toward Stubby and took him by the arm.
“We need to talk,” she said only loud enough for him to hear. They walked through the crowd and found their way to the barn, where they could be alone.
“Alex, this morning I could tell that something was on your mind,” said Stubby.
“I did the math. Stubby, I know you did too.”
“I did. Their troop levels on this side of the river tell me that Rollie has thrown everything at the problem. I don’t know if I’d say that this is a last-ditch effort, but I do believe that he intends to find us and end it.”
Alex looked through the barn door to see if anyone had noticed they were gone. The conversations continued around the fire.
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“Yeah, it’s more than that,” said Alex. “If Rollie sent all of his men over here, how many are left on the other side, in Savannah?”
Stubby shook his head and wandered away, looking to the hayloft for guidance. “Alex, I know what you’re thinking and the thought immediately crossed my mind this morning. When I caught your eyes, I saw the dang things light up.”
“Then you agree?”
“No, I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
Alex started laughing. She picked up a pitchfork and began stabbing a defenseless bale of hay with it. “Yes, Stubby, you have agreed.”
Stubby got serious with her. “Do you understand what you’re suggesting? We’re not assassins. It ain’t that easy. My name isn’t Jack Reacher and you’re not Lara Croft, Tomb Raider, or whatever her name is.”
“They’re unprotected,” Alex shot back. “They’ll never expect us to come at them now.”
Stubby took the pitchfork away from her and hung it back on the wall. “I should’ve just killed Junior in the Hornet’s Nest,” said Stubby as he leaned against the partially closed barn door.
“Yeah, and I should’ve ended Ma’s life too,” said Alex. “But things happen for a reason. I don’t know what else to do. If we stay here and fight and win, it won’t be over. The troops will retreat. They’ll bring reinforcements. Heck, Rollie will figure out a way to drop bombs on our heads. I don’t think we can count on Horst and Gunther to fight off Rollie’s air attack.”
The two stared at each other awkwardly until Alex began to smile.
“Your parents will never approve of this.”
“Yes, they will. Besides, it doesn’t matter. This has to be done. It’s up to you and me. We’ve got unfinished business and tomorrow is the perfect time to take care of it.”