by Bobby Akart
Chapter 40
Noon, December 3
Childer’s Hill
Every high school kid learned about that first fateful shot fired at the North Bridge during the battles of Lexington and Concord. Historically known as the shot heard around the world, it represented the initial foray by the colonists in their quest for independence and freedom from a repressive government.
Colton doubted that this initial burst from the M4 seized from the FEMA patrols would ever be written about in history books, but to this group of survivors, it was just as meaningful. The shots found their mark and served his primary purpose—disable the lead vehicle of the approaching convoy just as it reached the bridge, thus providing an additional blockade for the only means of ingress.
The vehicles quickly fanned out through the fields and took up positions along the tree line about two hundred yards from Lick Creek. Colton’s opening salvo was a signal to all of the brave men and women defending Childer’s Hill to open fire, which they did.
The Humvees were accompanied by two MRAPs and an M35 Deuce and a Half. The barrage of gunfire riddled the vehicles with bullets and penetrated the glass windows, wounding several of the soldiers. Caught off guard, the men scrambled for safety by piling out of the side opposite of Childer’s Hill.
Colton keyed the mic. “Hold fire. Hold fire.” Gradually, the weapons of his friends grew quiet.
The scene was surreal as the line of military vehicles created a crescent-shaped line along the tree row, stretching from below the covered bridge until Lick Creek meandered back across the field at the base of Childer’s Hill. For several minutes, the two sides assessed each other, neither wanting to make the next move.
A bullhorn broke the silence.
“My name is Sergeant Nathan McIntosh of the Tennessee National Guard here on behalf of FEMA. I have orders to arrest the occupants of these premises from Major Roland Durham pursuant to the provisions of the Declaration of Martial Law. You are commanded to lay down your weapons and grant us immediate entry.”
Colton looked at Beau and shook his head. He resisted the urge to yell nuts in response. He remained in control and stayed silent. There was only going to be one end to this story, and that was with the FEMA soldiers leaving or dying.
He set his rifle to the side and removed his jacket. The day was beginning to warm up and his anxiety had raised his body temperature. Colton thought the group was in for a long day, so he decided to get comfortable.
The winds whipped the tops of the trees and a huge gust caused the hay baler to shake slightly. As the rain began to fall again, he wiped the lenses of his binoculars and turned to study their adversaries.
Somebody was going to have to get impatient and make a move; otherwise they’d sit here all day—waiting.
Chapter 41
Afternoon, December 3
Childer’s Hill
An hour had passed and not a single shot had been fired. Sergeant McIntosh had repeated his demands precisely every ten minutes until the last attempt, which was followed by the vehicles starting up in unison.
“Are they leaving?” asked Beau.
Colton paused and then replied, “I don’t know, but I’m not sure how that helps us. They may leave enough men to keep us trapped up here and wait for the weather to break. Or they might return with more firepower.”
Suddenly, the trucks turned toward the woods initially and then moved in reverse toward the creek. The sergeant was positioning them closer to Childer’s Hill. Colton caught a glimpse of the soldiers advancing toward them by crouching low and using the vehicles as cover. As a signal to the others, Colton opened fire with the hopes of stalling the advance.
Once again, bullets rained upon the vehicles, causing a wide variety of pings and dings as they ricocheted off the tailgates and fenders. But the trucks moved closer to the creek, undeterred.
One of the massive M35 transports got stuck in the mud and began to spin its tires. The driver rocked the vehicle forward and back, to no avail. The entire convoy stopped to maintain a relatively straight line. As if performing a synchronized swimming move, the trucks maneuvered to park broadside to the creek, providing their men ample cover from which to attack.
Now the FEMA troops were in a position to fight, using their superior skills and firepower to assault the shooters, who had the high ground. Colton studied them through his binoculars.
Without warning, gunshots rang out to Colton’s right. One of his groups of shooters had opened fire on the M35, which was still trying to break free of the hole it had dug in the muddy ground. Colton realized the error the shooters made in an instant.
The entire squad of soldiers opened fire on that position. The explosion of automatic fire ripped through the trees and tore up the ground around the two nervous ranch hands with happy trigger fingers. They were cut to ribbons as they panicked and ran up the hill, seeking safety.
“Hold fire! Hold fire!” Colton yelled into the radio.
This was not going to work. They needed to coordinate their efforts; otherwise the soldiers could focus all of their attention on a particular spot. He had to think. He wasn’t a soldier and didn’t understand the nuances of conquering a field of battle. The men who flanked him on both sides were defending Childer’s Hill, not taking the offensive on the men across the creek below them.
The rains and wind suddenly subsided. Colton looked up to the sky for guidance and noticed that it had changed to an odd hue of green. He recalled the beautiful aurora that had filled the sky during the solar storm at Zero Hour. But this—this was different.
“Why did the sky turn green?” Colton mumbled to himself.
Chapter 42
Afternoon, December 3
Savannah
Crossing Main Street was not an easy task. Junior had four fresh, new faces posted at the bridge, which only had one concrete barricade protecting its access. The westbound lane was only blocked with black and white TDOT sawhorses. The military traffic in and out of town was now sent through Adamsville and then northward toward Jackson. As a result, security was beefed up at the bridge.
The decision to cross near the bridge was a difficult one. Stubby hated that they would be exposed as they ran across the four lanes of Main Street, but choosing a crossing point farther east required going past the Detention Center and then yet another highway utilized by Junior’s people to travel north and south.
Lightning lit up the sky, followed by a thunderous boom, which rattled the windows of the one-stop oil-change location next to the demolished Hickory Pit BBQ restaurant. Stubby immediately swung his binoculars in the direction of the checkpoint to gauge the reaction of the men manning the barricades.
They all looked miserable standing in the rain in olive drab ponchos with their caps pulled over their eyes to shield them from the storm. Another bright flash of lightning and an immediate thunderclap caused Stubby to jump.
“Wow!” exclaimed Alex. “That was close.”
“Yeah, and it also will provide us the perfect cover,” said Stubby. “Get ready, Alex. With the next flash of lightning, we need to run across the street to the gas station.”
“Together? Don’t you want me to cover you?”
“Not this time,” replied Stubby. “Those guys are too preoccupied with the lightning. They’re distracted enough for us to make our move. Besides, I see the sky clearing to the southwest. We may not get a better chance.”
“Okay, it’ll be like a track meet,” said Alex, who had run track during her freshman and sophomore years at Davidson Academy before she got serious about golf.
The two waited, but the lightning didn’t cooperate. They both peered from around the corner of the building. The men at the bridge were getting more comfortable as the raindrops subsided.
“Are you kiddin’ me?” said an incredulous Stubby.
Then it happened. The sky brightened as a spiderweb of electric current stretched up the Tennessee River as far as the eye could see.
; Neither of them hesitated as they darted across the road, easily clearing the two hundred feet in about fifteen seconds. About the time they hit the yellow stripe down the center of Main Street, the ground shook with the massive explosion of thunder, the biggest thus far. Stubby glanced to his left and saw all of the men cover their heads. Perfect!
After they slipped under the gas pump canopy and flattened themselves against the wall out of view, they both released their breath simultaneously. This drew a giggle from Alex, helping to lighten the mood.
“You know, this Spy versus Spy stuff is a lot of work,” Alex said to Stubby, drawing a chuckle in response.
“I’m too old for this and out of practice too. If I had known this was what life was gonna be like after the crap hit the fan, I would’ve laid off the cornbread and pecan pie.” Stubby pronounced the word pee-can, not pa-can, like Yankees do.
Alex took one final deep breath and looked around the corner of the gas station to confirm they’d made the crossing undetected. She nodded at Stubby with a determined look on her face.
“It’s game time.”
Chapter 43
Late Afternoon, December 3
Childer’s Hill
Colton tilted his head in wonder at the green hue that slowly was overcome by a foreboding dark gray. He craned his neck above the protection afforded by the hay baler and looked to the south. A black wall cloud was forming, a telltale sign for any Southerner who lived in Dixie Alley, a corridor spanning six states running from Central Louisiana to Nashville.
“Oh no,” shouted Colton to Beau. “I think a tornado is forming.”
Beau lifted off the ground to see for himself before Colton grabbed him by the belt and pulled him back.
“Careful, Beau. Do you remember those guys across the way?”
“But the wind is dying down,” argued Beau. “And the rain has stopped.”
Colton looked at the treetops, which remained stoic in the absence of any wind. As a golfer, he’d learned to watch for freak afternoon storms when the atmosphere could become unstable. The weather they’d been having was certainly out of the norm. They’d recently experienced periods of warm days, followed by colder ones, and then weather like today’s that approached sixty degrees.
He pulled his binoculars out to assess the FEMA positions. Just as he rose above the hay baler to take a look, he was pelted on the hand, causing him to drop the binoculars in pain.
Tink—tink—tink.
Hail began to fall on the top of the steel piece of machinery.
Bang—bang-bang-bang.
Baseball-size balls of ice had formed and were raining down upon them. Colton knew the telltale signs.
“Everybody! Run! Now! Run for cover in the root cellar.”
Colton looked skyward and saw the cloud beginning to rotate. He grabbed Beau by the arm and yelled over the noise, “Jakob and his brother don’t have radios. They’re near Javy at the rock wall. Run to them and get everybody out of here. I’m gonna lay down cover fire for you guys. Beau, hurry!”
Beau took off to the left and darted through the trees. The soldiers saw the retreat of the men and opened fire. Their high-powered rifles pelted the woods, embedding in trees and dirt. Colton had to give his friends some protection.
He stood up from behind the hay baler and emptied his first magazine into several of the FEMA positions, causing them to back down. He quickly dropped the mag and reloaded.
Bullets accompanied the hail pounding his position. Like an Afghan fighter hiding behind a wall, he raised his M4 and sent a hail of bullets in the general direction of the soldiers.
They returned fire, using the power of a couple of dozen automatic weapons to blister the hay baler. Colton’s heart was beating out of his chest. With the retreat to safety by his comrades, he was all that stood between the FEMA platoon and his new family atop Childer’s Hill.
Colton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was alone, trapped by gunfire flying all around him, and the biggest danger of all was the tornado building to the south.
Chapter 44
Late Afternoon, December 3
Childer’s Hill
Shots ripped through the underbrush and shredded the bark of pine trees to his left. He heard the sound of footprints snapping twigs and sloshing across the wet forest floor. Colton rose and returned fire, hearing the screams of two men in uniform who’d attempted to move from the cover of one truck to another.
Beau slipped on the wet pine needles as he attempted to slow his momentum, causing him to lose his weapon, which tumbled down the hill and came to a rest in the middle of the driveway. Colton saw that he was considering retrieving it and hollered at him.
“Forget it!” he shouted and then motioned for Beau to come behind their cover position. Colton fired off two short bursts to give Beau the seconds he needed to crawl to safety.
“Thanks,” Beau said to Colton as his chest heaved from the sprint through the woods.
“I told you to get to safety,” said Colton, looking towards the dark sky above them.
“I know, but I promised Alex.”
Colton ducked as bullets ripped up the gravel to their right, leaving a trail of indentations up the driveway.
The rumble he heard next was off in the distance. His first inclination was to look down toward the covered bridge to determine if the trucks were attempting to cross. There was no activity. Then he thought it might have been a helicopter or maybe even two. So this is how they’re breaking the stalemate—with Apache gunships.
“Colton, it’s coming!” exclaimed Beau, pointing at the sky.
The counter-rotation of the clouds created an obviously visible tornado headed in their direction. The rumble became a roar accompanied by a high-pitched swishing sound.
“Now, Beau, run! I’ll cover you!”
Beau took off up the hill as Colton opened fire. The winds were whipping the trees, and debris was sailing through the air.
He darted up the hill after Beau and then a searing pain ripped through his shoulder. The impact of what had struck Colton knocked him to the ground. Dazed and confused, he attempted to stand and another projectile ripped into the back of his thigh, knocking him back to the ground. He felt the warm trickle of blood soak the front of his shirt and instinctively felt for the source of the moisture.
Colton’s hands were covered in blood. His blood. His eyes glossed over as he fell to the earth. He heard the shouting and then the screams. Am I entering purgatory?
He was losing consciousness as he visualized the freight train headed for him, the light on the front shining brightly in his eyes. The sound was deafening and the whoosh of air that passed over his body caused him to shudder.
He could see the passengers, their noses pressed against the window. Alex as a baby. Maddie the day they met. Alex standing proudly with her golf trophy. Maddie flirting with him in a new dress.
Suddenly, the train became black. No loving faces. No light at the end of the tunnel. Only the screams following the train as it streaked by. Agonized moans of the dying permeated the darkness of Colton’s mind. Then Colton Ryman blacked out.
Chapter 45
Late Afternoon, December 3
Cherry Mansion
Savannah
They’d watched and waited for over an hour as they assessed their options to attack the Durhams. They stalked their prey, moving from position to position around the perimeter of Cherry Mansion, confirming there were no guards but, more importantly, confirming that all three little pigs were ready for slaughter.
For a while, Ma remained upstairs while her sons milled about the first level. Finally, she emerged and entered the kitchen to make some tea. Eventually the three of them settled in the parlor facing the river for their afternoon chat.
Stubby thought the time was right. The rain had stopped and the winds died down. The weather was no longer going to help provide them cover, and time was no longer on their side. He and Alex agreed that entering through the ba
ck doors facing the town would provide the Durhams a few additional seconds to react. Their best plan of attack was to burst through the front door, catch them off guard, and finish this nightmare.
With the decision made, they stealthily made their way towards the front of the house. Once in position, they began to move closer by taking turns racing from oak tree to oak tree, one covering the other as they went.
The skies turned an ominous shade of whitish-gray as they found themselves within fifty feet of the front porch. The Tennessee River had risen well above its normal elevation, bringing the water closer and closer to Cherry Mansion.
“Alex, something must’ve happened to the dam. The river has never been this high in my lifetime.”
“I can see the water rising, Stubby. It may reach the house!”
Stubby looked to the rising water levels and saw the debris rapidly floating down the river. Parts of houses and several vehicles bobbed in the river’s waves.
“C’mon!” shouted Stubby and they began to jog towards the house. Several cedar trees blocked their view of the front door and the porch steps.
Alex readied her rifle, keeping her eye on both the porch coming into view and the windows, looking for signs of movement. As they rounded the cedar trees, they were both caught off guard by the presence of all three Durhams on the front porch, watching the rising water.
Stubby dropped to one knee and raised his weapon, but a strong gust of wind knocked him off balance. Before he could regain his balance, Alex fired off a burst of rounds, which missed high, tearing into the porch roof.