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

by Bobby Akart

  Alex moved her rifle from rooftop to rooftop, quickly finding her marks and analyzing the guards’ reactions. The two shooters closest to Beau began talking into their radios.

  Something else was happening. The refugees, who had become accustomed to the humdrum, uneventful life in Camp FEMA, immediately became curious about Beau’s actions. In unison, they began to work their way towards the front fence to get a better look.

  Alex saw two guards running down the fence from her right. “Come on, Beau. We’ve gotta go!” she muttered aloud.

  Beau was on the same page as he hustled to close the hood of the truck and jumped inside. He fired up Old Hoss and put the wrecker into gear with a clank. Slowly at first, he pulled the slack out of the chain. The tension popped the heavy-duty chain out of the tall grass and it was now fully visible to the guards.

  Without warning, they opened fire on the wrecker, tearing up the dirt around it. Beau pulled harder and then gave it gas. The wheels spun initially and then they found traction. Let the festivities begin!

  SNAP—SNAP—SNAP!

  The steel ties that attached the chain-link fence to its posts began to snap, causing the refugees to scream. The wrecker pulled one section after another loose as a gaping hole opened up in the secured fencing.

  More gunshots rang out as the rooftop shooters found their mark. Bullets ricocheted off the rear deck and the tow truck’s boom. Beau pressed on as the fencing got stuck in between the trees. The tires began to spin as the truck was being held back. Beau was a hundred yards short of where he was supposed to run the truck into a ditch and dart across the street to the church.

  He stopped and then gave it gas again. Bullets were penetrating the fenders and the passenger’s door. Alex watched as he gave it one more try and then the tow truck stopped running.

  “Crap!” she exclaimed as she took off down the trail to her second observation point. When she arrived, Beau was exiting the truck as bullets flew over his head. She quickly debated whether to return fire. The plan was to avoid a shoot-out. Everyone agreed that the guards would spend their time dealing with the jail break if there weren’t guns blazing all around. Hopefully, this tactic would allow them to get out of Jackson without being pursued.

  Alex studied her target options through her scope. The rooftop guards were partially obstructed by leafless oaks. The pursuing guard’s line of fire was blocked by the refugees running through the gap in the fence. There was no activity at the entrance to the camp.

  “Over here!” she yelled to Beau, who quickly responded.

  He raced across the street and made his way down the grassy shoulder on the other side. Bullets penetrated the asphalt behind him, but never came close to his zigzagging course. Within fifteen seconds, he leapt over a hedgerow and ran across the parking lot. Beau arrived at the rendezvous point before Alex did.

  “Way to go, QB1!” she shouted as she ran into his arms. “You did it!”

  Beau was heaving, trying to catch his breath. All he could do was hold her and gasp for air.

  “Quick, get in!” shouted Jake as he fired up the Chevy. The teens jumped into the backseat and Jake spun the tires as he drove down a gravel road that connected the church to a small set of duplexes to the rear.

  Alex turned in her seat and watched for any signs of pursuit. Jake wheeled the vehicle through the intersection nearest the camp and took a hard left, throwing Alex off balance and into the side of Beau, who held her close.

  “Nice driving, Jake,” Beau said laughingly. “You make a good wheelman and an even better wingman.”

  *****

  “Here we go!” exclaimed Stubby as the uproar consumed the recreation yard. “Walk slowly toward the tents so you don’t attract any attention. There’s only one guard assigned to watch this area and I’m sure he’s focused on the other side of the compound.”

  The three teens crouched to lower their visibility and followed Stubby. An hour ago, Stubby confirmed that the fence had been opened up for their escape. Coach Carey had torn the tail off the stuffed tiger and attached it to the chain-link fence near the ground. His precision cut in the galvanized steel was barely discernible to the guards unless they stumbled upon it.

  “Quickly,” urged Coach Carey in a hushed voice from his hiding place in the underbrush. “The guard is holding his position, but he’s not looking this way right now.”

  Stubby squeezed through the fencing, followed by the boys. Jimbo, the last in line, grabbed the tiger tail and stuffed it in his pocket.

  Coach Carey and Colton held up some tree branches for the foursome to duck under.

  “Everybody good?” asked Colton as he handed out weapons to Stubby and Chase.

  “Yeah,” replied Stubby.

  Within a minute, they were free and running toward the industrial buildings that bordered the perimeter of Camp FEMA. The faint retort of gunfire could be heard from the other side of the camp, which drew concerned glances from Colton and Stubby.

  “Do you think we need to circle around and help them?” asked Colton.

  Stubby looked to Coach Carey. “Have you guys maintained radio contact?”

  “Jake and I checked in at 12:30,” Coach Carey responded. “He said he’d radio us if they needed backup or when they were headed south. Nothing so far.”

  “Let’s get to the car and be ready,” said Stubby as he gave FEMA Camp #3 one last look.

  Coach Carey stopped at the edge of the clearing before they crossed the road. Overcome with emotion, he turned to his two adopted sons and hugged them both. The widowed father had tears in his eyes as he held them both tight around the neck.

  “Are you boys all right?” he asked.

  Clay, the more emotional of the twins, nodded and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Since the death of their parents, the Bennett boys had become a part of the Carey family. The four guys shared many bonds, especially the love of football, but in this moment, the only thing that mattered was being together.

  “Yes, sir,” said Clay, pulling his bloody jersey away from his chest for everyone to see. “Junior beat the snot out of me.”

  “Literally,” chimed in Jimbo, who was also becoming emotional.

  “Shut up, Jimbo.” Clay laughed through the tears. “One time Junior smacked me ’cause Jimbo ran his mouth.”

  “That’s ’cause you sat there with that dumb look on your face.” Jimbo was egging him on.

  “You get the same look, carbon copy,” shot back Clay. Calling his brother carbon copy was a reminder that for every sibling insult he hurled at Clay, it also applied to Jimbo, his identical twin.

  Coach Carey laughed and looked at Colton. “So much for our moment of brotherly love.”

  Chapter 24

  Late Afternoon, November 28

  Childer’s Hill

  Colton drove in silence as he followed Stubby winding his way through the back roads of Hardin County. Coach Carey said very little after the two groups reunited just outside of Jackson. The Bennett brothers had relayed a lot of information to the group during that short respite while they regrouped for the trip to Childer’s Hill, their temporary home away from home.

  It was a lot of information to digest and he wasn’t sure how Madison was going to react. The families who’d come together at Shiloh Ranch had grown accustomed to news that was beyond their comprehension. The concept of living in a world without power was not on the forefront of anyone’s mind. The threats and atrocities of their fellow man dominated their thoughts.

  Colton followed Stubby as he drove up the hill to the Wolven place. The vehicles were greeted by the friendly waves of Javy’s men, who stood guard every hundred yards. For Colton, it was a relief to see their smiling faces. The men never complained about the tasks they were given and had fought fearlessly alongside Stubby at Shiloh Church.

  They parked the cars and were barely able to open the doors before they were greeted by Madison, Emily, and Bessie. The Wolvens stood on the front porch, arms around each other’s waist
s, watching the tearful, but happy reunion. Coach Carey and his teens stood awkwardly to the side for a moment while the families reunited, and then they were properly greeted with hugs as well. The extended family just became even larger.

  “Y’all come on inside this house where it’s warm,” shouted Char. “We’ve fixed up a mess of chili that could feed an army. By my head count, we’ve got one!”

  The dozen members of the Allen, Ryman, Crump, and Carey families walked across the front lawn and made their way inside. The fire was roaring in the oversized stone fireplace at the end of the Wolvens’ open home. The group greeted the Splinter brothers, who were helping the Wolvens in the kitchen. The men, jovial as always, cracked jokes in their German accents to the delight of everyone. Colton was glad the men eased the tension, at least during dinner.

  Reminiscent of a soup kitchen, Char doled out the chili and crackers to everyone. A few folks, Jake included, added Char’s homemade habanero hot sauce. It made the big man’s tears flow and nose run with every bite.

  The group chattered throughout the meal as the spoons clanked the bottom of the bowls. Of course, accolades were heaped upon Char for her culinary talents, and Jake especially sang the praises of the hot sauce. The man liked to torture his intestines, Colton thought to himself.

  “What kind of news did you learn in Jackson?” asked Bessie.

  “Jimbo, you wanna relay what you’ve learned?” asked Coach Carey.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Jimbo. “Well, the first thing that we learned is that the rest of the country is a mess too. The big cities like Memphis, Nashville, St. Louis, and Atlanta are all war zones. Gangs have formed and they are better armed and organized than the military. We met refugees from all over the place and the story was the same. The cities are burning.”

  “What about Washington, D.C.? Aren’t they doing something?” asked Emily.

  “It’s hard to tell because nobody knows for sure,” replied Jimbo. “Telephones are still not working. I didn’t hear of any location where the power has been restored. It’s just plain chaos everywhere.”

  “Except in the small towns, like ours,” added Clay. “Places like Savannah helped each other.”

  Jimbo interrupted his brother. “But not all of those stories are hunky-dory. We were told by a lot of refugees that the towns weren’t always very nice to newcomers. They took care of their own, but not necessarily outsiders. There are just too many mouths to feed.”

  Stubby summarized the boys’ intel for the group. “It’s like we always suspected. The metropolitan areas rage out of control. The small towns circle the wagons around their own in order to survive. Savannah and our surrounding communities could have done the same successfully had it not been for the Durhams.”

  “Stubby, we better bring you up to speed about what’s happened down this way,” said Madison, who took on a serious tone that Colton hadn’t seen from her in a while.

  “Sure, what’ve you learned?” asked Stubby.

  Madison took the floor. “Well, we felt like Javy and the boys had the hill protected, so we sent the Mennonite men out on horses to see what was happening elsewhere. The first day, they traveled as far north as the Wyatt farm and reported that there was no activity. But yesterday they rode all the way to the bridge and saw military trucks full of men returning from the north.”

  “You mean from Jackson?” asked Colton.

  “No, from along the river,” replied Madison. “Our people found a man with his two young daughters hiding in the woods along the trail. They were shivering and scared out of their wits.”

  “What happened?” asked Stubby.

  “They managed to sneak across the river in a canoe,” answered Emily. “Without exaggeration, the entire town of Savannah has either been arrested or people have evacuated. The man said Junior was, quote, cleaning house.”

  “Everybody?” asked Coach Carey.

  “Pretty much, according to this man,” replied Madison. Everyone began to mumble between themselves, especially the Bennett brothers and Beau. They were obviously concerned about their friends in the Tiger Tails.

  Madison continued. “Wait, there’s more. The FEMA soldiers are commandeering farms on the north side. The Mennonites learned from another group of people fleeing toward the west that FEMA is posting the martial law declaration on every door and removing anything of value. They were even hooking up their big military trucks to the ranchers’ cattle trailers and forcing the owners to load the cattle up.”

  Stubby stood and paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. He furrowed his brow and spoke. “They’re taking everything in the name of martial law. The declaration gives Rollie the authority to do pretty much anything he wants on behalf of the government.”

  “Or for his own benefit,” said Colton.

  “How can they get away with this?” asked Emily.

  “Well, for one, as we learned in Nashville,” Colton began to answer, “there isn’t anybody to stop them. We saw so much corruption in those early days, imagine what someone like Rollie could do working in conjunction with his demented family. We’ve seen the work of Ma and Junior already. Now, couple that with the military power of the government. This is not good.”

  Madison reached for Colton’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Their family had been through so much. Colton had thought they could make a life for themselves at Shiloh Ranch with the Allens and the Crumps. Here they sat, displaced once again, while the Durhams misused the power of the government to run roughshod over people who were just trying to survive.

  “Do we make a stand again?” asked Colton.

  Nobody responded immediately, and Stubby, contemplating their options, sat down at the hearth next to Alex. He decided to voice his opinion first.

  “It’s just a matter of time before they make their way to Shiloh Ranch and beyond. It’s possible they might give up the hunt for us unless Junior presses the issue. But as long as Rollie and FEMA have a presence in Hardin County, we’ll be living in fear.”

  “Do we push farther west and relocate again?” asked Madison. “Or maybe we’ll move into Mississippi. We have a lot to offer a large farming operation. I’m sure we can make some kind of arrangement.”

  Coach Carey spoke next. “I can speak for the boys in saying that we’re tired of hiding. Since the solar storm hit, we’ve been living in the shadows in our hometown. We thought those days were over. Our vote is that we end it so that we can live our lives as freedom-loving Americans. There is no room for tyranny in Savannah.”

  “Well said, Coach,” said Jake. “Emily and I feel the same way. Chase too.”

  “I believe the root of all evil is the abuse of power by our government, small and large,” started Stubby. “We’ll never be free as long as our homes and lives are threatened. We need to end this once and for all.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Us too.”

  “Without hesitation.”

  Colton made a point to look everyone in the eyes as they voiced their opinion. The group had to gear up for another fight and he wanted to make sure everyone was committed. They would be fighting trained, heavily armed soldiers now. These were not Junior’s band of misfit deputies.

  Colton continued to look around the room, when a cold chill ran up his spine as he realized that somebody in this room was likely to die in the coming days.

  Chapter 25

  Late Afternoon, November 28

  Cherry Mansion

  Savannah

  Junior felt like it was déjà vu all over again except this time the roadblock in his way was his brother instead of that fool Bill Cherry. His town had been running just like he wanted it until the day those people from Nashville showed up. They’d been a thorn in his side ever since. Junior thought it was way past time to round ’em up and bury them in the woods with them old Indians.

  “Junior, it don’t matter what you want. I’ve gotta go back to Jackson and take most of my men with me,” said Rollie as he joined Ma and Junior
on the porch. Ma’s Brumby Rocker was fully repaired and in high gear as she listened to her sons bicker.

  “Dang it, Rollie, you promised that I’d get my vengeance against the disdants. They humiliated both me and Ma. We deserve to get our due!”

  Rollie stomped a cigarette out in the lawn. He walked up to Junior and blew smoke in the shorter man’s face. “Look here, Junior. That colonel who rang me up today don’t give a dang about your disdants. Somebody busted into one of my camps and tried to let everyone out. Do you hear me? Twenty-three hundred people had a big old invitation to hit the dusty road and it happened on my watch! Except I wasn’t watchin’. I was down here fixin’ your dang mess!”

  Junior bowed up and looked up to his brother’s chin. “You gave us your word. Just tell your men to fix the fence. How hard is that?”

  Rollie pushed Junior away with one hand. Junior, caught off guard by the physical gesture, stumbled backwards. But he caught his balance and charged his brother.

  BANG! BANG!

  Ma pulled a small Ruger .380 from an ankle holster and shot two rounds into the air. Both boys grabbed for their weapons before Ma got their attention.

  “Shut up! Both of you. Neither one of you boys are old enough or bad enough to keep me from jerkin’ a knot in your tail.”

  “Yes, Ma,” said an apologetic Junior.

  Rollie, who had been away from home long enough to know that Ma didn’t have any real power over him, simply scowled and ignored Junior.

  “Look here, Rollie,” said Ma. “Have they fixed the fence up there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, how many people did you lose? You know, how many refugees got away that you’ve gotta go round up?”

  “Actually, not that many,” replied Rollie. “Here’s the thang. They got no place to go. Most of them are there voluntarily. We give ’em enough food to keep them alive and that’s it. Truth be known, they could leave anytime they wanted if they’d just ask. We discourage it because part of my pay is based on the population of the camps.”