Righteous Sacrifice

by Timothy Van Sickel

  If he can get the farms producing, then he can recruit more of the people coming out of Johnstown. He can build a bigger army, find out more about this group opposing him, and then move on with his conquest of setting up a socialist enclave. What is more appropriate than having the owners of the farms work to provide for the state, his state? How ironic that Davidsville is the headquarters for David's city-state.

  "Let our lead men and roadblock crews know that we may be letting the farmers return to work the land. The farmers will provide us with food. This may be a great opportunity for us to demonstrate how just and fair we can be."

  Chapter 11, The Conference

  Central City

  9/26

  The small city hall building is buzzing as the unofficial leaders of the community meet. Over a dozen people are in attendance including Reverend Wysinger, Brit, Zach, Colonel Fisher, Lt Anders, Captain Devers, my "brain squad" brother, Paul, Cy Yoder, representing the farmers, Dr. Kerns, the female doctor from the refugee shelter, the mayor, and a few other leaders.

  The mood is good. Our small town is doing well. Our border to the north is our biggest local concern as refugees continue to come out of Windber, but that situation is controllable. The private communities of Stoneycreek Lake and Indian Lake to our south have established trading relations with us. Somerset is secure and helping us to establish a sustainable community. Our brain squad of engineers and PhD's are working to bring back clean water, electricity, and other "modern" conveniences.

  I proceed to demonstrate on the map used the previous day, where things stand. The room is mainly happy about the expansion of stability. But voices of concern are raised about the insurgents in the Davidsville area and their intentions

  "We will address that,” I state, trying to keep the group focused. “But we have other problems with this growing area of stability. It takes armed men and woman to control this area, as well as civilians to keep track of who comes in. The manpower is not a problem. Arming them is. As we grow, we need more armed men, which means we need more ammunition. That is a finite resource. Zach, would you explain what happened at the airport, mainly regarding the ammunition supplies and the arms that may be in the hands of unknown groups?”

  Zach explains that all armories have weapons, but none have ammunition. He tells about the ammunitions supply that was delivered on 9/11 and how some of that was eventually dispersed before the airport was overrun. He winds up by explaining that Somerset and our group got about twenty-five percent of the available ammunition. About that same amount or more is unaccounted for and probably in the hands of militant groups. Then he explains that if our ammunition resources are spread wide and thin, a concentrated show of force could break our lines.

  The good mood has turned somber as it is realized that our security is in peril.

  Capt. Devers stands. "I put in place a fast reaction force of two trucks and eight men. We can reinforce anywhere in a matter of minutes. But the further out we go, the less effective that force can be."

  "We need more of those retaliatory forces," Colonel Brit states. "Somerset should have one up by Jennerstown, and we should have one in Stoystown too."

  "Devers' set that up in Stoystown. Lt Anders, relay that idea to Captain Albright in Somerset." I state evenly. "Good idea Brit, I mean Colonel. Any other ideas?'

  Stoic faces stare back at me.

  "Those moves will help us in the short term, but we need to look long term. You all know this is not just an incident, this is a life changing, societal changing event. What we have established here, a self-sufficient community, has been accomplished because we are so remote and we organized quickly. Our HAM radio reports tell us that all major metropolitan areas are in chaos with mortality rates of over 25% already. Huge numbers of people are moving into the rural areas. That is where the food is, that is where the people are moving to, those that can. We are seeing a microcosm of that here.

  "We are fortunate that we can absorb the refugees heading our way, because Johnstown is small and remote. But in many rural areas the flood of refugees is like a swarm of locust, ravaging the land and moving on. That swarm will hit us sooner or later. It will be diminished by the time it gets here, but its sheer numbers may be able to over whelm us."

  "And there is a bigger threat out there," Zach states. "Where is the military? Have they joined groups like ours? Are there rogue groups out there, taking what they can? Is there still a group loyal to a rogue government, or even a legitimate government? The military has a lot of shit that survived this attack; a lot of hardened assets. But who knows where they are and who they are listening to?"

  "That’s a huge ‘what if’. Here's what I see could happen. We will be attacked by some group that has got a hold of the ammunition from the Murtha airport. Our people will handle it. That's the good news. Here is the bad news. A rogue military group from Ft. Indiantown Gap or some other military group will eventually end up attacking us, because we have food. Additionally, people will come out of Pittsburgh looking to take our farms. They will ravage the farms west of the ridge, and then will head our way.

  "They are probably already ravaging farms in Westmoreland County. They will be coming over the Laurel Mountain ridge sometime. Refugees like my brother are already trickling in. Will the famished show up in two days, two weeks or two months? We don't know."

  "The farms around Greensburg are already being overrun," Paul states. "We participated in it. In exchange for some ammunition, we got some food from a group that occupied a farm. And with the gangs going door to door in town, the whole freaking city will be moving out to the farming districts, just like we did. But most of them will not have a destination, just a goal to find food."

  "And, if we are able to establish a safe, productive haven, that is known to take in refugees, more will head our way," I state. "Our own success in establishing a safe haven will attract both good and bad elements."

  "So what's the solution?" asks the mayor.

  "Pray that the rapture comes and we won't have to deal with all this," states Brit.

  All eyes turn to her, then to Pastor Wysinger. He looks around, then up to the ceiling, as if asking God for an answer. "No one knows the time of His return. It is stated explicitly. We are here, we should plan to be here.”

  I pick up from his statement. "I truly feel God has guided the people here in this room to establish the systems we have emplaced. I think we need to continue to follow our core beliefs and offer a hand of love and compassion to all we can. We can only do that if we have a secure area for the downtrodden to flee to. So we must make plans to keep our homesteads secure.”

  "That brings us back to our initial problem,” I continue. “How do we secure our expanding safe haven with limited resources, mainly an ability to arm our militia? The fast reaction forces is only a stop gap solution. We have the manpower, we have arms for now, we need ammunition."

  A high pitched voice from the corner of the room is heard. "Unconventional warfare is what we called it fifty years ago," the commander says hoarsely, followed by a few unhealthy coughs. "There are a dozen or more special ops vets in the area. That doesn’t include the vets from Somerset. You need to rely on them for unconventional means to protect the roads and farms. They helped set up the hidden roadblocks. They helped take out the druggies. They will help you. But you still need more ammunition and arms. Zach, tell them what you all need to do." The commander takes a sip from his mason jar and leans back against the wall, closes his eyes and appears to doze off again.

  "What do you know that we don't know?" Brit asks her brother, Zach rather directly.

  "Letterkenny Arms Depot, southwest of Harrisburg," Zach states quietly. "It’s the largest compound of arms and ammunition in Pennsylvania, maybe on the entire east coast"

  "Whoa!" states Colonel Fisher, "I had not thought of that. It's basically a cold war relic that congress was never able to shut down. An interior supply depot in case the soviets invaded. Its acres of warehouses wit
h military hardware. Shit! Most of what is stored there is probably hardened. It was stocked piled during the sixties, seventies and eighties, when military specs required hardened assets. Wow! Letterkenny. A modern day gold mine."

  "Letterkenny is over a hundred miles from here," I inject. "It would be impossible for us to get there and back with supplies for us. And how many other people have thought the same thing?"

  "Um," Zach says a bit more forcefully. "God is in the miracle business. Doing the impossible is kind of what he does. Letterkenny has been in the back of my mind for a few days, like God has been calling to me. I have been ignoring it. I can't ignore it any longer. Dad, General, we need to put together a mission to Letterkenny, I'll lead it."

  The room goes quiet, a hundred mile mission through unknown territory. From the back of the room the high pitched raspy voice speaks out again. "That’s the kind of men you need. You all are praying folks. Pray for this young man and more like him. Don’t be hasty. Scout and organize. And pray." The commander takes one more sip from his Mason jar then stumbles out of the room and fires up a home rolled cigarette, laced with some home grown medicinal herb to help ease the pain.

  Before I can say anything, suggestions and opinions start pouring in. Lt Anders will start monitoring the communications and getting information. Captain Hutchins offers to send a scout mission to Bedford and then on up to Altoona. Cy wants to know if the scout mission can get fuel from the large fuel depots in Altoona. Dr. Kerns starts to offer a medical combat team and Captain Devers rattles off a list of men that would be reliable for this mission.

  I let the conversation ramble for a few minutes. Many good ideas are put forward, a plan begins to come together.

  "Quiet down people. Let's vote on this before we get too far into organizing it. A hundred mile trip through chaos, with enough trucks to return with ammunition and supplies? This will be a major undertaking. I propose that we appoint Zach, Brit, Lt. Anders, Dr. Kerns, and Capt. Devers to come up with a plan to pull off this mission. They have three days to come up with a solid recommendation. All in favor say aye." Most vote aye and the proposed mission begins to be planned.

  Just as the meeting is about to break up, one of Lt. Anders communications runners comes into the room. "Several farms that have been overrun have agreed to let the farmers come back. One of the farms is controlled by an independent military group, the other farm is controlled by the socialist group. One of the missionaries apparently is trying to negotiate a truce to let the farmers return to their farms. The occupiers have finally figured out that they don't know how to run a farm," she says laughing.

  This information takes a few seconds to sink in. This could be a major development. Fighting to take control of the Davidsville area has been weighing heavily on me. Can a peaceful solution be worked out? This needs immediate attention.

  "Captain Devers, the roads are safe for a convoy to Jennerstown, right?"

  "An armed convoy yes, but not for general travel," he responds.

  "First thing tomorrow morning, put together a five truck convoy, with relief supplies, and include a medical truck. Colonel Fisher, Brit, Cy; we are taking a trip to Jennerstown to see what's developing there. I think this could be of major importance.”

  As the group breaks up, Paul pulls Cy aside. "We should have a grist mill running in a few days. We found a few old grinding stones, and have some of the refugees helping to dam up the creek to run a watermill. I would like for you to check it out."

  Cy brightens immeasurably. "Really! I got farmers who are harvesting corn right now. They have been wondering if we have a gristmill. This is good news indeed, let’s go have a look at what you have come up with."

  Chapter 12, Peace Talks

  Jerome

  9/27

  We want our adversary to be impressed, so several popup pavilions have been set up alongside the road on the wide open stretch between our fortified position and David Jones' well defended roadblock. Good food, prepared by the Old Miners Café, has been set out. A medical pavilion is set up with a doctor and several EMT's provisioned to care for anyone in need. I want this man to know we are capable of helping him.

  Several farmers with their families are waiting patiently for a truce. They desperately want to return to their lands and tend to their crops and animals; among them, the decedents of Joe Johns.

  Throughout the prior evening negotiations had taken place with Terry acting as our unofficial mediator. Once we arrived in Jennerstown, it became more serious. Now David Jones and I are to sit down and make a truce. It's been just over two weeks since the attack and mini city-states are being established and truces negotiated. This is mind boggling to me. But if these mini states were not established, chaos would reign. I may not like Mr. Jones governance of his mini state, but it is better than chaos. That is my hope, my prayer.

  The agreement as proposed is that all farmers and landowners can return to their homes and land. They will be subject to the socialist's dictates. Homeowners must accommodate anyone desiring to live on their land or share their homes. Farmers, those with over ten productive livestock, excluding poultry, will be allowed total control of their homes, but must allow anyone to live on their land and establish homes of any means. Farmers will be allowed to work the land, and anyone on their land will be expected to help them, but all food produced will go to the community.

  I agree with these requirements, since the individual landowners will have a choice to move back or not. There are two stipulations that I cannot abide by; there is to be no free movement between the socialist community and our free community, and the socialist community will control the roadblock on Route 219.

  The free movement of people and trade needs to be stipulated, and the socialist conclave cannot have first shot at the refugees. We need manpower as much, if not more than they do. Our militia controlling Route 219 is the other priority that must be stipulated.

  We wave a white flag at exactly ten o'clock as agreed. We assume they have a working mechanical clock. Soon, we see a small convoy rolling out towards us. An older Humvee with a SAW machine gun leads the way, followed by a well-built half ton farm truck. In the rear is a fifty-seven Chevy, in prime condition. Their leader likes to travel in style, I surmise. The SAW on the old Humvee gives me more concern than the relic car. We have a dozen classic cars we use as runner vehicles. Worth tens of thousands of dollars a few weeks ago, now less valuable than an old beat up pickup truck. But the SAW indicates that they have access to the weapons and ammunition looted from the airport.

  The small caravan stops fifty feet short of our encampment. Brit gives me a hand out of the camp chair I have been sitting in. Colonel Fisher hands me my crutches as I stand. "Let's ask the Lord for guidance before we meet with them," I state quietly.

  "I'll lead," says Colonel Fisher smiling. We bow our heads and the Colonel starts. "Father God, you have lead us here. We place our trust in you. We, um, trust you, and we, we know you will guide us and well, that's all I got, um, Amen."

  Colonel Fisher looks at me bashfully. "Sorry Mark, I thought I had more to say."

  "You said exactly what needed to be said. God will be with us and will guide us."

  He nods and smiles back at me while Brit gives him a loving hug.

  The three of us head out to meet our guests, flanked by two well-armed guards. A large man leads their procession flanked by a sultry woman, too well dressed for the occasion. Two men follow behind, observing our welcoming station a bit wide eyed, seeing the well prepared fresh food, medical pavilion and professional looking security detail. The two gawkers are flanked by two men of military bearing, well-armed, eyes roving, men who have seen combat.

  We stop five feet apart on the cracked asphalt roadway. A strong breeze kicks up and our loose clothing flaps with the strong wind. A bit of dust and field debris swirls around forming a dirt devil before settling as the wind dies down. A flock of starlings take flight, swirling and diving before settling in a small copse of
trees a hundred yards away.

  I look the large man before me in the eye. He catches my stare, but quickly looks away, taking in the surroundings. His eyes finally settle on Brit. "So the local farmers want to come and help me,” He begins. “They want to be part of our movement, help us maintain the farms so that all can share the bounty of the earth. I look forward to you allowing the farmers to return to their land." His gaze returns to me and he smiles smugly.

  I have many times prayed that truth and integrity be restored, honored, even demanded. Before the attack on America, honesty and truth had become a lost ethic. Now this man stands before me and starts a negotiation with a series of lies. Those prayers to demand the truth are very quickly answered as I swiftly swing my right crutch in an arcing movement, and smack the fat man along the left side of his head with the stub end of the aluminum crutch.

  The fat man hollers loudly and falls to his knees. All the security people on both sides move into a ready position. The metallic sounds of weapons being set to fire repeats across the open landscape

  "STAND DOWN NOW!" I holler in my best command voice. All guns slowly are slowly lowered, everyone still stunned at my swift blow to the side of David Jones head.

  Looking directly down at the fallen man, I state very forcefully. "You will not begin these negotiations by stating lies. You forced the people out of their homes and off their land. Your people will destroy the farms and starve if we do not help you. The farmers want to save their farms, they will tolerate you to do that. Lies will not be accepted as a basis for these negotiations."

  David rises from the asphalt road. His face is red with rage, blood trickles from a small cut on the side of his head. His well-dressed woman starts screaming. "You just clubbed him on the side of his head! You just clubbed him for no reason!" She turns to their security people. "Do something! Shoot them! He just clubbed your leader, don't just stand there!”

  The security people around them have already lowered their weapons, a few are smirking. They know their leader piled on hyped up lies and got clubbed down, literally, by a one legged man. They also do not want this stand off to turn into a gunfight. They know they will probably die, along with many other good men and women. They let their leader recover, seeing that we pose no direct threat to them.