The Blackout Series (Book 6): Devil's Homecoming

by Bobby Akart

  They approached the grassy area where over a dozen horses had been tied off during the Thanksgiving Day festivities. The horses were spooked by the high energy emanating from Court Square. Their lack of cooperation and anxiety almost got Colton kicked as he retrieved Snowflake first and then the others.

  “Halt!” Rollie bellowed over the loudspeaker. “No one is authorized to leave this area. Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air, or we’ll shoot!”

  Colton urged his horse up the embankment and onto the bridge. He pulled Snowflake behind him and, likewise, Bessie brought along Stubby’s horse. The three riders made their way through the maze of concrete barriers, hoping that FEMA wasn’t waiting for them across the bridge.

  CLIP-CLOP—CLIP-CLOP—CLIP-CLOP.

  The horses picked up the pace along the concrete bridge, which crossed over to the west. Both sides of the highway were cluttered with the debris of battles fought. The dead bodies had been removed, but the hulls of destroyed vehicles remained.

  When Colton cleared the bloody stains of Junior’s men shot by Charlie and Alex, he turned the group off the road and onto the fields leading into the Shiloh Battlefield National Park. He led the entourage into a patch of woods and stopped, allowing everyone to catch their breath and release their emotions.

  The shouts and the booming voice of Rollie over the loudspeaker was barely discernible from this distance. The comfort of safety allowed Madison to gather her thoughts and realize that once again, her teenage daughter was at risk. She slid off her horse and collapsed in a heap in the cool grass.

  “Colton, I thought this was over,” she said as she began to cry. “I thought we could get our lives back to normal. I thought …” Her words trailed off as she began to openly sob. She was losing control.

  Colton dismounted and joined his wife. “Maddie, I know. Me too. None of us anticipated this.”

  Madison was breathing rapidly to the point of hyperventilation. “Alex. Colton, she’s just a kid. She plays golf. She’s on Facebook. She studies algebra. She’s not a soldier!”

  Bessie came to Madison’s side as well and tried to comfort her new friend. “Honey, Stubby will take care of her. He won’t let her get hurt.”

  Madison shot back, “Stubby keeps putting her in the line of fire! She’s not an Army Ranger. She’s a kid!”

  The words stung and Bessie subconsciously wrapped her arms around herself, providing a comforting hug.

  Colton tried to comfort her further. “Maddie, please calm down. Alex is an extraordinary young woman who has grown throughout this entire ordeal. You’ve said it yourself. We have to trust in her abilities and Stubby’s wisdom. And you’ve got to trust that God will protect her and Stubby in doing …” Colton paused and then continued as he looked into Madison’s eyes. “Well, in whatever they’re doing, okay?”

  Madison nodded, although she didn’t appear to have her heart in it. “What are they doing?”

  “God only knows,” said Colton as he looked back to Savannah, searching for answers.

  Chapter 2

  Afternoon

  Thanksgiving Day, November 22

  Court Square

  Savannah, Tennessee

  “Round ’em up, boys! We’ve got runners!” shouted Rollie over the loudspeaker. “You people have one last chance to stop where you are, or I’ll consider your actions as hostile against the United States government and the power vested in me by the President under martial law. Do not make me shoot you!”

  Two dozen men poured into the crowd from behind the convoy of FEMA military vehicles. They slapped people to the ground and physically beat anyone deemed uncooperative.

  During the melee, Jake, Emily, and Chase had slowly retreated in a wooded area near the football field. They hid behind the three-foot-wide trunks of hundred-year-old oaks to weigh their options.

  “We wasted too much time looking for everyone else,” said Chase. “We’ve got to get to the horses now. This way!”

  Chase hooked his arms inside his parents’ and led them down a well-worn trail through the patch of woods towards Cherry Mansion. It was a path he was familiar with, having used it the night he accidentally blew up the propane tank that nearly killed Alex.

  He was sure of himself—confident in his abilities. But what he’d learned was that his overconfidence was the most dangerous form of carelessness. Chase simply didn’t consider the possibility of a missed shot and where the projectile would land if it didn’t hit its mark. His desire to right the wrong that had landed Alex in the hands of the Durhams in the first place blinded him to the likelihood that he might miss with his second shot or his third. Confidence was good but overconfidence always sank the ship.

  “This way.” Chase encouraged his parents toward the bridge and the horses. Jake’s chest was heaving and he was clearly winded. They reached an opening as they approached the rear of a group of local businesses, which gave Chase an opportunity to glance back toward Main Street. The soldiers had driven a wedge within the center of the crowd, effectively dividing them down the middle. They were systematically handcuffing people, who lay prone on the ground.

  “Son, I’ve gotta catch my breath. Just gimme a minute.” Jake immediately stopped before receiving a response and bent over, clutching his knees.

  “Dad, we don’t have much time,” said Chase. “I hate to tell ya, but we’re gonna have to run the last hundred yards or so to get to the horses. We’ll be exposed on Main Street the whole time.”

  Emily pointed to the western horizon and nodded toward the setting sun. “It’ll be dark soon, can’t we wait ’til then?”

  “Maybe, but it’s a matter of time before the soldiers make their way to the bridge to lock it down,” replied Chase. “Plus, they’ll confiscate the horses. I don’t think we can chance it.”

  Jake stood up and put his hand on Chase’s shoulder. “You’re right, son. We’ve gotta go. We don’t wanna get stuck on this side of the bridge.”

  Chase nodded to his dad and he led the way along the alley littered with empty boxes and trash cans. In between buildings, he’d look to see if the soldiers had made a move toward the bridge. Thus far, they were still preoccupied at Court Square and the immediate vicinity in front of the courthouse.

  The Allens eased along the back side of the last commercial business in line and faced the charred, skeletal remains of the Hickory Pit BBQ Restaurant across Main Street.

  “They’re coming,” whispered Chase, immediately causing Jake and Emily to snap their heads to the east. “I see three men, all armed. We’ve got to go.”

  “Son, they’re too close,” said Jake. “If they don’t run us down, they may just open fire and cut us down.”

  Chase looked at the approaching soldiers and then to the horses, which were tied up by the bridge. They needed a distraction. He immediately cursed himself for coming to this Thanksgiving shindig unarmed. I let my guard down. We all let our guards down.

  Still a teenager, Chase was as unprepared for this post-apocalyptic world as anyone. Heck, he was still unprepared for life. He was mature enough to know that he couldn’t carry the guilt of the danger he’d placed Alex in. He also didn’t want to disappoint his dad. He needed to relieve himself of this burden. Self-redemption was the first step to exonerating himself from this guilt.

  “I’m going to distract them, which will give you guys a chance to get away,” started Chase. “Once I start, don’t hesitate and run to the horses. Get out of town.”

  “Chase, no,” his mom pleaded. “We’re not gonna leave you here. We’ll stick together and figure out another way.”

  “There is no other way, Mom,” said Chase. “I’ll be fine. Now, we have to act quickly.”

  “Son, what are you gonna do?” asked Jake.

  Chase leaned out from behind the corner of the building. The three soldiers were getting closer.

  “We don’t have time, Dad. I’ll be fine. I’ll make my way to Miss Rhoda’s and then I’ll cross the river by boat.
Get ready.”

  Before either of his parents could question him further, Chase was off, backtracking his way toward the alley. He darted from building corner to building corner, watching for the armed men walking toward the west.

  Then he saw them. He caught a glimpse of the trio passing the third building from the end, dangerously close to his parents’ position. He had to act.

  Chase ran through the alleyway toward Court Square and then found what he was looking for—the distraction that would do the job. He reached into a trash can and began hurling empty beer bottles toward Main Street.

  With a rapid-fire motion, Chase broke the bottles on the sidewalk, the sides of the building and onto Main Street. The shouts from the soldiers gave him the response he’d hoped for. Now, he had to lure them in his direction.

  The sounds of heavy footsteps crunching glass and kicking debris filled the alleyway. Chase counted three soldiers. Perfect! He tossed three more bottles in their direction, breaking them at their feet.

  “Stop!” shouted one.

  “Halt!” yelled another.

  Chase decided to get in one more lick. He grabbed a wine bottle by the neck and jumped into the opening. He hurled the bottle toward the lead soldier. The heavy bottle crashed against his riot helmet, temporarily stunning him.

  Time to go. He began running back toward the woods adjacent to the neighborhood, backtracking into familiar territory.

  SPIT—SPIT—SPIT!

  Suppressed automatic fire erupted behind him as the soldiers attempted to shoot him. Chase ran like the wind, zigzagging through the woods to avoid the bullets. However, darkness had set in and he was running without regard for the low-hanging branches of the oak trees. His instincts allowed him to avoid the first branch, but his attempt to turn and check on his pursuers prevented him from seeing the second one.

  THWACK!

  The oak clotheslined Chase, sending his legs out from under him and landing his back against the ground with a thud. He tried to regain his footing and stand, but only made it to one knee. His vision was blurred and then he tasted the salty blood flowing out of his forehead into his mouth.

  He tried to get up again.

  THUMP!

  The buttstock of a rifle came crashing down at the base of his skull, sending him face-first into the pine needles. He made one last feeble attempt to rise on one hand until a boot crashed into his ribs, sending him to the ground. Another boot stomped into his side, followed by another to his stomach.

  Chase couldn’t breathe, nor could he see, as his vision was blurred by the pain and the blood gushing from his forehead.

  CRUNCH!

  He was kicked in the face. Chase tried to cover himself with his arms, using his innate defenses to shield his body from further harm. Another buttstock crushed his hand into his nose. Another kick. And then another.

  Chase was holding onto consciousness, his mind wandering from his parents’ faces and then ultimately to Alex. The blows were relentless as Chase paid a hefty price for his redemption. Then his mind slipped into darkness.

  Chapter 3

  Afternoon

  Thanksgiving Day, November 22

  Hardin County Detention Center

  Savannah

  Alex slowly opened the glass door and entered the lobby of the Detention Center. The only light within the building was coming from the end of the hallway to her right, where the setting sun illuminated the sheriff’s office and the adjoining conference room. She drew her sidearm, having left her beloved AR-15 at Shiloh Ranch because everyone thought it was over. The building was eerily quiet. Where is our new sheriff? What about the deputies?

  She eased down the hallway toward the sunlight, her shadow stretching twelve feet behind her along the tile floor. Something doesn’t seem right. Sometimes, silence said a lot more than you think.

  Creak.

  Alex resisted the urge to call out like they do on television shows. The character would ask who’s there? That was so stupid, thought Alex. Of course the bad guys aren’t gonna tell ya who’s there. They really needed to get some new scriptwriters in Hollywood, she thought as she laughed under her breath.

  Creak.

  The noise was emanating from the end of the hall near the sheriff’s office. Alex’s palms immediately became sweaty as she recalled being left alone in there with Junior. He was vile and he smelled. Alex knew what he’d had in store for her. She’d narrowly escaped the barbarity he’d wanted to inflict upon her.

  Alex lowered herself into a crouch as she inched closer, her gun pointed toward the open doorway of the conference room. She took a quick, deep breath to steady her nerves and then she burst into the room, slamming the partially closed door against the wall with a thud.

  She checked the corners of the room and crouched lower to observe the space under the conference table. The room was empty.

  Creak.

  Alex spun around, pointing her gun in all directions. Where is the noise coming from? She approached a bathroom door and looked inside. The steel-bar-covered window had been broken and the cool breeze was blowing a sheriff’s deputy’s uniform on a hanger suspended from a fire sprinkler.

  Alex laughed out loud as she released the tension. She mumbled, “That’s what we should have done to Junior. Hanged him.”

  Then she heard heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. She gathered her wits and stood against the wall next to the door. She pointed her pistol at the center of the opening and waited.

  The sounds stopped. Slowly, through the opening, Stubby entered the room.

  “Hey,” said Alex.

  Stubby jumped and flung himself against the door jamb. “Jeez, Alex!”

  “Sorry, Stubby,” Alex said, laughing. “Did I scare you?”

  “Yeah, maybe a little,” he replied. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”

  “You would’ve never had a chance. I think we’re clear, but the sheriff is missing,” said Alex as she slid past Stubby and headed for the sheriff’s office. “I think he slipped out the back.”

  Stubby holstered his weapon. “We don’t have time to play around, Alex.”

  “I’m not playin’. I’m just not panickin’ either.”

  Alex entered the office. She surveyed the wall of keys and looked at each in the diminishing sunlight. “We’re gonna need wheels. Whadya think, big for more hauling room, or fast to get away from those guys out there?”

  Stubby glanced out the side door into the adjacent parking lot. “Look for one labeled Ford Bronco.”

  Alex ran her fingers along the wall until she stopped and pulled a set of keys off the hook. She tossed them to Stubby.

  “Do you remember the layout from when we were here the other day?” asked Stubby.

  “Yeah, admin is in this wing. Jail is on the opposite end to the east. The kitchen, intake, and the armory are in the south wing of the T.”

  “I’m glad you remembered the armory keys this morning,” said Stubby.

  “Yeah, I planned on giving them to the sheriff after the game. So what’s the plan?”

  “I’m gonna drive around to the loading docks for the kitchen. The truck will be shielded from the prisoner intake on the other side of the T. You go to the armory and start hauling weapons to the loading dock through the kitchen. Focus on long guns first—battle rifles, not hunting weapons. I’ll help you with the ammo. Those ammo cans could weigh fifty pounds each.”

  “Got it. Should we lock the front door?” Alex surveyed the wall for the keys to the double glass doors. Once they were located, she tucked her pinky finger through the ring. “Good. If they have to break in, at least we’ll hear them coming.”

  Alex took off down the hallway and locked the doors. She stared for a moment at the activity around Court Square. People were lying on the ground everywhere with armed soldiers pointing guns at them and kicking their spread-eagled limbs. “Unbelievable,” Alex muttered.

  She strained to see through the waning daylight for any signs of Beau. He
and Coach Carey had still been on the playing field with most of the Tiger Tails when the armored vehicles had rolled onto Main Street. Through the hectic few moments before she’d raced to the Detention Center, she’d forgotten about Beau and had lost track of his location. Now, as she had an opportunity to take a breather, she realized how much she missed him.

  Alex shook off the thoughts of Beau and the others and got back to the task at hand. After Ma and Junior had been taken into custody, Alex’s first thought was to secure the armory. She didn’t trust anyone and was concerned that the guns would fall into the wrong hands. Also, she was fully aware of how scarce and valuable ammo was.

  She had rustled through the desk drawers of Junior’s office that day and found the keys to the solid steel doors protecting the cache of weapons. Alex then slipped them in her pocket and didn’t tell anyone except Stubby. He’d appreciated her way of thinking, whereas she knew her parents would encourage her to return the keys to the new sheriff.

  Alex had a different perspective and outlook on the world following the collapse of the power grid. Some people might call her cynical or pessimistic, but Alex understood early on how mean people were. There was a reason for the old saying desperate people will do desperate things. Alex had grasped the concept immediately in those hours before the solar flare hit, and the events of the last three months only reinforced her convictions.

  She made her way down the unlit hallway, using an LED-lit keyring she and Chase had found while scavenging. She missed those days. There was a certain thrill of going through abandoned homes to see what you could find. It sure beat lurking through a dark, abandoned jail where, if the walls could talk, the screams of untold horrors performed by Junior’s men would fill the air.

  Alex really liked Chase and felt everyone was overreacting in blaming him for her capture. Alex knew the risks every time they went outside of Shiloh Ranch. Chase was a good guy, and Alex saw the potential in him. She pulled her hair out of her face and tossed it behind her. Back to business.