The Fall of America: Premonition of Death

by Benton, W. R.

  "The man I killed tonight was the son of a wealthy man and he was in my shed looking for something to steal. Money is worth very little these days, unless you have gold. Paper bills don't even make good toilet paper."

  As I rubbed my mare down, I thought of the changes that had come to our nation and how difficult it had been for many American's to adjust. As a nation, we'd grown soft before the fall, and we'd forgotten how to do simple things our parents had done as a matter of everyday living. Most of the people I'd known bought frozen dinners or ate junk food, instead of cooking from scratch at home. Easy things like butchering an animal or milking a cow were no longer practiced by most people, so when the end came, they had no idea what to do or how to do it. Store shelves had emptied within hours and there were no more deliveries, because we had no gas. In the first month alone, over 400,000 had died in Ohio, with New York losing over a million people, most by starvation. By the second month, the poor had gone looking for those that had what they needed and the death rate had jumped out of sight. Looting for food was a common problem at first, but soon the food was gone and so were the people. The people had either died or moved to where food was easier to find the countryside. I'd hear rumors of cannibalism and suspected it to be true, but with the power out and communications no longer working, I have no way of knowing for sure.

  "What you thinking on so hard over there?" Tom asked.

  I placed the brush on a bale of hay and said, "Remember how before the end came all the liberal's were screaming about saving whales, abortions, political correctness, and gay rights?"

  "Yea, so? They were always screaming about shit."

  "Where are all of those folks now? We knew years ago we were heading the wrong way and our elected officials did nothing for us. Don't get me wrong, whales need saving and I have no issues with gay folks, but instead of binding our nation into a stronger cohesive group, had different agendas. Then, the democrats and republicans splintered into small parties, each with a different ideology."

  "Well," Tom gave a light chuckle and then continued, "most of the liberal's I know are dead. Most couldn't cook a pancake without a microwave and right now, I think most American's would be more inclined to eat a whale than try to save it."

  Sandra and Sue suddenly ran into the barn and after catching her breath my wife said, "Riders coming and I make out about a half dozen of them."

  "Turn the dogs out of their kennels, get into the house, and then cover us from the windows with the shotguns," I ordered and turning to Tom I asked, "You hot?"

  "Now, what do you think? I have a 45 Commander in a shoulder holster, a 9mm on my right hip, and a pump shotgun on your front porch. I suggest we move that way so we can welcome your guests properly."

  CHAPTER 2

  As Tom and I stood on my front porch, a group of five men on horseback rode up with guns and compound bows in their hands. They were a dirty and mean looking group and I scanned them to see which I would kill first, if it turned to shooting. I immediately spotted a man near my age, holding an M-16 like he knew how to use it. Must be prior military or police, I thought as I slipped the safety off on my shotgun. I was holding my weapon with the barrel up, but fully aware I might have a fight on my hands. You'll be one of the first to die, my friend, I thought as I asked, "Who are you and what in the hell do you want?"

  My dogs, all four of them, were sitting in the grass off to my left. I knew none would move without an order from me, or a movement from one of the men toward me, so I felt comfortable with the situation. Of course, having Sue and Sandra in the upstairs windows reinforced my confidence.

  A fat man riding in the middle said, "I'm D'Wayne Patton, and I've come for the body of my boy."

  "Is that all?" I asked, knowing the man had other motives.

  Giving a dry chuckle he replied, "Well, we do intend to kill the man who murdered him."

  "Ride north, about a half a mile, and you'll find the body of your boy, unless the coyotes have been feeding on his nasty ass, I ain't real sure what you'll find. As for the man who killed your thieving no account son, that'd be me." I stepped from the porch and lowered the barrel of my shotgun until it was pointed in the general direction of Patton.

  "Easy with the scattergun," Patton said in a nervous voice, "because it can do a lot of damage."

  "Oh, I know well the damage this gun can cause, which is why I have it pointed at you. Your son was a thief and got what he had coming. Times are rough, Patton, and I need what little I have to survive. Also, you just threatened me and I take all threats seriously. So, if any of your boys get the urge to start shooting, you'll be the first to die, Mr. Patton. You'll be talking to the devil before you realize I've pulled the trigger."

  Looking around at his small group, Patton ordered, "Don't none of y'all start anything. Let's just get Larry's body and get the hell out of here."

  "But pa, he killed Larry! He just admitted it!" rail thin man of about forty said in anger.

  "James, you heard what I said! This ain't the time or the place to start anything. Our time will come, but later when we're ready for a fight."

  If I'd been thinking properly I would have killed Patton right then, except I was trying to avoid a fight. I watched the small group closely until James replied, "I hear ya, pa."

  "Now, I suggest very strongly, Patton, that you and your men get off my property. My patience with you and your kind is growing thin."

  "Let's go get Larry and then go home." Patton ordered and pulled his horse to the left.

  As the rest started to turn, I noticed James swing his right hand up and out, pointing a pistol at me. Before I could react, I heard one, two, and finally three pistols shots from beside me. Glancing at Tom, he was holding his 45 Commander and was in a shooters stance.

  My dogs were barking and wanting in on the action so I yelled a command, "Stay!"

  As James was knocked off his horse, I heard Patton yell, "No fighting! I want no shooting! I ordered no shooting from the start!"

  James lay in the grass unmoving as the small group brought their prancing horses under control. As soon as the group was facing me once more, I heard Sandra call out, "Patton, I want you to dismount, easy like, and check your son. More than likely he's dead, but it might be his lucky day."

  The group glanced upward, and for the first time saw the two armed women in the windows. Patton placed his pistol in the holster on his belt, unforked his horse and made his way slowly to his son. Kneeling, he turned the man over onto his back and using his right hand felt his neck for a pulse. He shook his head and stood.

  "Frank, I want you and Bill to place James' body over his horse. Tie him on well because we've a fair distance to cover."

  The two men looked up as Sandra called out, "Leave the guns on your horses and do as the man said. One false move and both of our shotguns will start throwing lead, so I suggest you both move at a snail's pace."

  It only took the two men a couple of minutes to tie the dead man to his horse, and during the whole time Patton stood and glared at me. While it was fairly dark, the oil lanterns on my porch didn't throw much light , but I could feel his hate.

  Glowering at me, Patton said, "Do you have a name, mister? You've killed two of my boys and a man doesn't forget something like this."

  Giving the man an ill-felt smile I replied, "My name is John, and you remember it, Patton. I want you to also remember that we protect our lives and property here. Now, move to your horse and get out of here. Do it now!"

  "I'll be back and when I do it'll be an eye for an eye, so don't think I'm riding out of here and forgetting what you've done to me and mine."

  "I said get off my property and I mean now!"

  Turning their horses, the small group started down my long driveway toward the macadam road out front. None of us moved until they were all out of sight.

  "I think you just made the mistake of your life," Tom said as he moved to my side. "We should have killed all of them."

  I was worried abo
ut repercussions too and replied, "I think you're right, but maybe he'll change his mind once he has time to think about it a while."

  "I want you to remember he was once a successful business man and as such, he knows how to handle men. Any thriving businessman is likely ruthless and hard. We'll have to keep twenty-four hour watch on the place now, because I'm sure he'll return and this time with many more men."

  "Tom, I just couldn't start shooting people and you know it."

  "I know, but to just let them ride off was a big mistake. Mark my words, there will come a day when you'll regret letting him live."

  I turned and headed for the house as I said, "Maybe, but I sure hope not."

  *****

  Over the next four days we moved all of Tom's belongings to our house, and I was pleased with the gear and supplies he had. Like me, Tom had seen the end coming and was prepared, while others, especially those who'd live on government assistance and progressives didn't. Did those people honestly expect the well to never run dry? Then again, many of them were third or fourth generation free-loaders and it'd paid well in the past, so in a way it was a profession. Others listened as our government, which always downplayed the seriousness of situations to avoid panic, had promised our setback was only temporary. It wasn't until welfare, military retirement, Medicare, social security, and other government plans were eliminated that the general population fully understood the gravity of the situation. Panic struck the masses.

  Most, like my brother Bill, never planned ahead and actually lived from paycheck to paycheck, barely surviving. Bill wasn't a dumb man by any stretch of the imagination, but he used to laugh while I worked in my storeroom moving foods around and adding water containers. He'd called me a fool at the time and I'd suspected I might have been, but now I know I saw it coming. All a person had to do was read the paper, go online and check the news, or simply speak with folks. Many had not thought past the current day either, except all of them, including Bill, were dead now. I've heard over fifty percent of the population died during the first year, but I have no real way of knowing. As I explained earlier, all the bean counters were gone.

  "Now," Tom said as he sat at my kitchen table, we'll make some traps to help protect this place and I'll feel a lot safer."

  I leaned forward, suddenly interested and asked, "What do you have in mind?"

  "Wire up a little homemade shake and bake, some foot poppers and some nail pits. You know what I'm talking about."

  Of the three, the homemade shake and bake would take some effort, so I asked, "What do you have as a source for detonation?"

  "Some blasting caps I got about five years ago. I told the feller that sold them to me I had some stumps to clear and he believed me, but I had this in mind from the start."

  Sue and Sandra, both confused, gave me questioning looks, so I explained, "Shake and bake is an old soldier's term for napalm. Since we don't have a squadron of fighter jets, we'll make the containers and store them high in the trees."

  "I still don't understand." Sue said, and then took a drink of her coffee.

  "It's simple to make, but hard on your enemies. We'll take five gallons of gasoline, mix about four bottles of liquid soap with it, and let it set a while. We really need more soap, but we're limited and can't spare any more than that. Once it's sat for a while we'll secure the container, oh maybe twenty feet up in a tree, attach a blasting cap and run the wire down to the ground. From there we'll run the wire to a source of power, and I have some old tractor batteries that should work fine. Then, when your target is under the tree, you attach the wires to the terminals on the batteries."

  "Why use soap?" Sue asked looking over the rim of her coffee cup.

  "Liquid soap causes the burning gas to stick to whatever it lands on, so it's a pretty deadly affair once popped," I answered.

  "Sounds like some nasty crap to me." She stated, and met Sandra's eyes.

  Tom laughed and said, "The army taught us how to do it, but we're jury-rigging these things so they might not work at all. I guarantee you, if they do blow, we'll have some surprised folks under the tree."

  "And the toe popper thingies?"

  "Shotgun shells with the primers resting on nails. We'll simply drill out some holes the same diameter of the shells in some two by fours, then in the center of each hole we carefully lower a shell. With the shell resting on the nail, all it takes little weight to push the shell down onto the nail, the primer fires and the shell discharges."

  "I don't understand. Where will you put them?"

  Tom laughed and took over for me, "We place them on trails. First, we dig a hole and then place the trap in the hole, with the top of the shell almost flush with the walking surface. Someone will walk down the trail, step on a shell, and bam, you have a man down with a serious injury to his foot and maybe the groin area. We can also place them along the sides of the trail, near where we have a main trap. When the first man steps on a shell, the others will move to the side of the trail for protection and maybe we'll injure some more. They're nasty as all get out, but they work and are cheap to make."

  "Won't they see them?"

  "Not if we camouflage them and sprinkle a little loose dirt on top of the shells."

  "Which reminds me," I said, and gave each woman a warning look before I continued, " we have the traps all out, do not go walking in the woods or anyplace away from the house without one of us with you. These traps will hurt anyone that steps on them."

  "Sandra, how are we sitting on medical supplies?" Tom asked.

  Sandra had worked at the Mississippi Veteran's Hospital for over four years as a registered nurse, and she'd been placed in charge of our medical supplies. Smiling, she replied, "We've all we need, unless one of you comes down with yellow fever. I've got painkillers, antibiotics, and all sorts of medication stocked, but don't laugh when you see the labels."

  I saw confusion on Tom's face so I added, "The meds and supplies were ordered online before things turned rough and Sandra got them from pet supply stores. In those days you could get any medication you needed and in large quantities. The bottle caps, however, came with little dogs and cats printed on them.

  "We're fine in the medical department, so don't worry about it for the time being."

  Sue, who'd been quiet during our discussion asked, "What are those nail pits you were talking about?"

  I took a gulp of my now cold coffee and said, "The longest nails we have will be driven through wood and placed in a hole on the trail with the points up. Using a piece of cloth, you can then cover the hole and sprinkle dirt over the thing to hide it. It's better to use a mat made of natural materials, but that can be hard to do because, with time, it changes color as it dries out or rots away. There are a lot of different kinds of nail traps we can make, so stick around and learn."

  "So," Tom said as he stood, "Let's get busy, we've a lot of work to do. While we're making the booby traps, I'd like you ladies to do a complete inventory of what we have on hand, down to the last bean."

  Sandra smiled and said, "I have it already completed. I thought while you two were working, Sue and I would make four grab and run bags. That way if we have to leave the house in the middle of the night or some other time, we'll not leave without something with us."

  I smiled, proud of my wife, but added, "Be sure each bag has a complete medical kit, with pain killers, antibiotics, and the works. Also, consider our needs for a fire, sleeping, food, extra socks, and water containers. From this moment on, I want each of us to always carry a sheath knife, disposable lighter, and a pocketknife. If we have to leave, it'll be a rush and what we don't have on us or take, we'll have to do without. Let's get to work, people."

  *****

  Tom and I soon had six five-gallon cans high in the trees and detonators attached to each. All the wires ran to a heavy duty, fully charged tractor battery about fifty meters from the trees. Tom had labeled each set of wires and separated them for quick use. We'd ended up using less soap than I wanted, but
we couldn't use all we had in stock.

  As we walked back to my house I asked, "Shouldn't we have let the soap mix a few days before placing them?"

  "Maybe, but to be honest with you, I don't think we have a couple of days. Patton will be back or if not him, someone will visit and we'll need the napalm then. Of course, the longer we wait the more mixing the soap will do, so time will actually help us."

  "Now, I've been thinking of stringing wire around the yard. Do you think it will help?"

  "Well, it can't hurt, so let's do it."

  We walked in silence a few minutes, and then Tom asked, "Have you ever seen those spikes that police officers used to throw on the road to puncture a car tire? I think they're called ninja stars or something like that."

  I chuckled and replied, "Not really, except in the movies. Why?"

  "I want the women to make us a few hundred so we can scatter 'em around the house."

  "They'd only work at night." I stopped walking, and gazed into his eyes.

  "Not if someone attacked us on horseback. While I don't like the idea of hurting an animal, I suspect those things could do real damage to a horses foot."

  "Isn't there a soft area toward the rear of the hoof?"

  "Yep, but doing this bothers me."

  I placed my hand on his shoulder and said, "Tom, I don't like the idea any better than you do. I love animals much more than people, because they're innocent and loving, but we've got to do whatever we can to stay alive."

  Over the next few days the women spent long hours turning out our little ninja stars, and I was satisfied with the quality. No matter how I tossed them, they always landed with one sharp barb up, so I knew they'd work.

  While they worked on the stars, Tom and I filled hundreds of sandbags and placed them almost waist high around the lower level of the house. I knew they'd stop most rounds and we had them in a double row, around every room on the ground floor.

  Finally, Tom said, "Get the backhoe and dig me about four or five pits in the front and back yard. Make them about five feet deep, four wide, and close to six feet in length."