by J. B. Craig
Because Tripp was a skeet and trap shooter, Greg figured he would have fairly useless (in a battle) “bird shot”. This is great for shooting birds, but a slug, or lump of lead the diameter of the barrel, would be much better for taking down a leather-clad meth-head. Tripp’s gun would only piss off a biker if hit him the leather. Thinking it would be better to have a motivated man on the line, Greg said out loud “Excellent – Bring slugs if you have them. We’ll work you into the security rotation.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet. Nobody shoots slugs at clay pigeons, idiot. Besides, why would I get myself killed defending you people?”
“Shut up, Tripp.” Said Jennifer. “This is about us all staying alive. They’re not going to save you just because you don’t fight them. In fact, they’ll probably butt-rape you like they’ll rape the rest of the women. Don’t be a bitch, Tripp.”
The color drained from Tripp’s face, but he shut up. Gunny guffawed, and immediately dismissed Trip as any sort of asset. She was thinking he was just the first 3 letters of the word asset. She changed the topic, saying “Greg, you know the layout better than I do, but if it were me, I’d lay down some foxholes with overlapping fields of fire on both sides of the road.”
“Yeah, Gunny, that’s what I was thinking about a first line of defense. I was thinking 2-man teams, with v-shaped fields of fire, overlapping. It stops the shots from coming straight into them. The down-side,” Greg explained for the civilians, “is obviously losing someone covering your front. I don’t know that we have enough bodies to cover gaps. We’re probably stuck with straight-on defensive positions.”
Greg continued: “My only concern is what we should do if we fall back. We have those drainage ditches on both sides of the road. They’re almost always full of run-off water, and the slogging will be tough, but it’s probably better cover than just running away. If we stagger the foxholes so that they’re pointing towards the tree obstacle and woods, those closest to the fighting will be closest to the drainage ditches. Those farther back would have to move farther to the ditches to retreat, if necessary, but they will be farther from the bad guys.
“I can also work some IED’s in strategic locations so that if we must fall back to the circle, we’ll have lots of boom and smoke covering our retreat. I’m still a little worried about my plan for detonating them. I’d love to have a tank ditch, or moat to slow them down.
Chet ambled over as Greg was talking, and said, “I can help you there. I think my fellow Vietnam vet, Bill, has a ‘turning plow’ attachment that we can use on the tractor. It won’t be bull-dozer fast, but will be a LOT faster than digging. With a dozen shovels, we can build your ditch and wall.
“Why didn’t you list that as a list of our assets?” Greg laughed, remembering the quote from the Princess Bride movie. Surprisingly, Este, the quiet, gentle giant from Mexico City, laughed out loud.
“Princess Bride – Muy Bueno!”, he laughed and explained the joke to his buddies, who smiled politely. Greg knew that Este spoke English, but he rarely did so. He was determined to try to get more out of him… If they lived that long.
A turning plow is an attachment to a tractor that could be set to turn the soil, to one side, or both. It digs and throws dirt. The team set it to turn the soil to the left, and it created a small pile of dirt. The tractor would do a big, looping turn, then run through the furrow again. After a while, the pile of dirt was too high for the tractor do drop the plow any deeper, and the guys started digging, Throwing the soft, freshly turned dirt onto a pile, and digging a ditch out. The cool thing about dirt is if you move it from a hole to a hill, every foot you dig down, makes a 2 foot gap, like the gap between the trough and crest of a 1 foot wave is 2 feet. After a while, the team got down to hard dirt. Chet and Este rigged a sideways attachment for the plow, so that they could run the tractor along the ditch, and still drop the plow in to break up the soil. This needed something like an old-fashioned plow horse in front of it pulling so that there was not too much stress on the sideways arm. Este hitched himself up a rig, and pulled while the tractor did most of the cutting.
By the end of the day, the Rock Harbor Army had a defensive wall that was 40 feet long and 3 feet high, with a water-filled ditch another 3-feet deep in front of it. They accomplished this by simply tying their ditch into the drainage ditches running parallel to the road. When the water poured in, the team cheered. Some, including Greg jumped into the mud, and sprayed water on each other. Their new obstacle stretched from the drainage ditches by the road to the wood line in front of the clubhouse. With this improvised wall, the defenders could kneel, and shoot from cover, but the attackers would have to scale 6 feet of dirt to get over it, while being muddy. The road was an obvious weakness – so Greg placed his new toys there. He hoped any bad guys would funnel to the that choke point, as he placed home-made claymores on both front sides of the wall, buried in the dirt, with fuses behind the wall. If they were lucky enough to have the bikers come through together, there would be something like 8,000 lbs of shredded biker and leather to clean up.
Along the wall, each fighter dug with assorted shovels, piling up dirt into even-higher fighting positions on either side to avoid stray shots from their flank, and making a position for them and their night-shift buddy. When the night shift showed up, they were amazed at the work that was accomplished. Imminent death is an extreme motivator to get stuff done. The night shift took up the shovels, with orders to improve the fighting positions. They were also given a task that involved the tractor. They were to build another surprise for any unwanted visitors.
After a day of moving dirt (Jennifer was making explosives with Ethel while one of the other “school marms” took care of the kids on the circle), Greg was filthy. “Jennifer, I think it’s my turn for that shower. Cold works for me. I just don’t want to climb into my sheets like this.”
“Absolutely, Jefe”. She smiled. “I’ll just put Annie down. Have a well-deserved cocktail on the deck. I’ll come get you when I’m ready.
Greg poured a double-shot of Makers Mike, a drink that he liked but rationed, as it was quickly diminishing. Today, they built a freaking obstacle that any combat Engineer would be proud of. Their defensive posture just went up by quite a bit. He worried that it still wouldn’t be good enough to stop 40 bad guys, but that tractor, and the non-stop diggers seriously improved their odds.
Greg heard the sliding glass doors open. Luckily, they had a cooler-than-average day this July. All that digging would have sucked in the worst heat of a Virginia coastal summer. Jennifer placed her hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Nice work today, Jefe. Now, don’t get all heated up, but it’s time for your shower, and I’m not tall enough to dump that bucket, especially after I watched you spill half of my warm water. Despite your comment earlier, you deserve a warm shower, so I heated up some water to a little north of Tepid.”
“I was going to jump in the harbor. I should be Good.” Greg turned around, to see Jennifer in a stunning stars-and-stripes bikini. “Um, that’s hot! You told me not to get my hopes up.”
“Well, I’m not going to dump warm water on you in the shower naked, you pervert!” She smiled. “I” (she stressed the word) “will have my eyes closed the whole time. I promise. Come on, Hero. You did good work today. I actually feel a lot safer today than I did yesterday – and It’s all to your credit. That said, you behave yourself, Greg. I saw how much you loved the shower this morning, and we’re not doing anything in your dirty little mind, even if it was in mine, too. It’s been a long time, and a woman has needs too.”
At her urging, Greg followed Jennifer into the bathroom. She turned around and looked out the window. “Strip down and get in, Jefe.”
Greg did, and turned his front towards the shower head. He heard Jennifer get in behind him. “Nice ass,” she said, “IF I was in the Market for some ass.”
“Thanks, said Greg. I got that from the Scottish side of the family.” As a bucket of tepid, as promised, water was dumped ove
r his head. To Greg, it was a few gallons worth of precious water, but it felt fantastic.
“You wash your front, I’ll wash your back where you won’t be able to get. There’s a pretty gross sweat and dirt line down the center of your back. No hanky-panky!”
Greg was treated to a very nice, platonic back-scrub from one of the hottest women he knew. He had no control over what he was feeling on the front. Another 1/2 gallons of water was poured over him, and Jennifer stepped out of the shower. He heard her filling the smaller bucket back up from the 5-gallon outside the tub.
“My work here is done. Take your time ‘finishing up’, cowboy. Do you want me to hang a towel on your towel rack there?” She giggled. “I’ll be in my room doing the same. Thanks again for everything you’re doing. You know I love you in our own weird way.”
Greg did indeed ‘finish up’ and used the last bucket of water to rinse himself one more time to wash any other detritus down the drain. On his way back to his room, he heard Jen ‘finishing up’ herself.
“Good night, Beautiful. Thanks for the mammaries.” He laughed, as he walked past her room. She made certain quiet noises herself, since her daughter was in the room. Greg hit the sheets and slept better than he had in weeks.
Mike’s Return
Greg woke up to an unfamiliar sound – the squelch of a radio. “Jefe – Jefe – Big problemo.
Greg picked up the radio. In the excitement of last night, he forgot to do a radio check. “Angel, you have to say ‘over’ when you are done talking. Did you pick up any news on the radio, over?”
“Greg, you have a big problem. This man here says he is Jennifer’s husband. He has 3 police with him. He is not easy to stop. I don’t want to shoot him, because I know his face. He’s no lying.”
Greg’s heart dropped into his gut. Somewhere in his subconscious, he had given up on both spouses actually making it, but he needed to man up, and do the right thing. “Delay him, Angel. I need 10 minutes.”
“Si Jefe, Diez Minutes. I will warn about the mines, and escort slowly. You will have worse day than me, Jefe.”
“Cayate, Angel.” (Shut up). “It’s not like that. Over.”
“Si, Jefe. Good Luck, Amigo.”
“Angel, if you can have them leave weapons, promise we will give them back, maybe we all live. Do what you can, por favor. And remember to say ‘Over’, OK.”
“OK, Jefe. Encima.”
“I assume Encima means ‘Over’, Angel. We’ll talk about this later, if we all live.”
“Si, Jefe. Encima.”
Greg threw the walkie on the bed and ran into Jennifer’s room. She was asleep, and her breast was not quite as tucked into his over-sized, v-neck t-shirt as it should be. He took a quick moment to admire the swell, and the edge of her nipple peeking out. No man can resist looking at a breast for at least a little bit before getting the job done. He picked up Annie and started changing her ‘diaper’. They were down to cloth scraps, but thanks to the kitchen and laundry crew, they were clean, and cut to fit. The safety pins were a God-send thanks to Pop’s basement of stuff.
“Jennifer. Wake up. Shut Up. Listen up. Mike is at the gate. He’s here in 10 minutes. You tell me how to play it. I’ve got Annie.”
Annie heard her dad’s name and said “DADDY!”
“Yes Annie, Daddy’s home!” Greg said with a reassuring smile. “Jen, I think we just play this straight. He’s a cop and can smell B.S. like a fart in a car. The TRUE story is that I never touched you in any sorta way. That’s our TRUE story.”
“Oh, My.” Whimpered Jennifer. “He’s here! Thank God. And he’s going to kill us.”
“No, stick to the truth. If he doesn’t believe you, then that’s on him. He’ll be here un-armed, if Angel is as good as I think he is.”
Jennifer got dressed, and walked out to the top of the circle, carrying Annie. “DADDY!”, Annie cried when she saw him walking down the road with 3 men in regulation, but disheveled State Police uniforms behind him. Mike ran to his daughter. Angel and half of the night shift were following, carrying the M-4’s, or AR-15 type rifles the police brought.
Mike ran to his wife and baby and sobbed when they all embraced. Greg cried from the porch, both because at least Jennifer got her husband back, and a little bit (if he was honest with himself) in regret for being alone with only the bottle again. He did what his drill sergeant used to say, and ‘sucked it up, buttercup’. He joined the crowd outside Jennifer and Mike’s home, and Jennifer made tear-soaked introductions to all of the men.
“Jennifer. We have to get out of here.” Mike said with vehemence in his voice. “Bad things are coming. “
“We know, Mike. The bikers are coming, and we’ve got surprises for them.” She said proudly. “You saw our obstacles, right? Greg designed them we all built them.”
Mike looked at his wife for a moment, like “who are you?”. Then he regained his bearings and said. I have an escort out of here. We need to take all civilians that can walk, ride or bike to the FEMA camp at Dahlgren Navy Base. We have two Deuce-and-a-half Trucks outside the obstacle. There are Marine and Army National Guards at the trucks waiting on us. I don’t like them being alone for too long. What’s that obstacle talk all about?”
“That’s my doing, Mike.”, said Greg. “The bad guys need to be slowed down, because they outnumber our shooters by something like 4 to 1. We could really use the help, if you guys can stay. They’re coming soon. Possibly tonight.”
“Greg – You’re Tony’s grandson, right? I thought I saw your truck out front, but I didn’t recognize the Georgia tags.”
“That’s where I live… Well, lived. I’m hoping for most of my family to come here from Atlanta, and my daughter Maria from Philadelphia.”
“Good Luck, buddy.” He replied cryptically. It took me weeks to get here from Fredericksburg, by way of Dahlgren, where we were all ordered to report. It’s not a nice place out there.”
“Are the roads that bad, Mike? What’s the news from the world? What happened?”
“The roads are full of stalled cars. Communities have been clearing them manually in many towns, but the open road is still full of obstacles. You’ll be glad to know with the trucks we brought, we cleared at least one lane all the way from here to the 301 bridge. We understand the Maryland National Guard and Police teams are doing the same thing across the river, but they’re having a much tougher time, since DC and Baltimore are lost, and the violence has spilled out everywhere.
“The news from the world isn’t good. Rumor is it’s the North Koreans, but it could be any nuclear country. Anyway, on EMP day, nuclear weapons were smuggled into the ports of New York and Los Angeles. They were small yield, but the result is the same. America’s 2 largest ports, one per coast are nuclear holes filled with radioactive water. Los Angeles took a lot of the fallout, but the NY fallout pretty much went out over the ocean, although there are now a lot fewer Islander fans, since Long Island got it pretty hard.
“Near the same time as the port bombs, 4 mini-sub-launched Nukes were sent up on rockets, to detonate high up in the atmosphere. The good news is there’s no fallout from them way up there. The bad news is the lights went out. A ship in the Gulf shot one over Houston, taking out all of the Southeast. One was off of San Francisco Bay, another was off the shore from Baltimore, and the last one shot theirs from the Arctic circle, covering all of Canada and the Northern USA. North America is effectively lights-out.”
“Who did it?” Greg asked.
“Unknown. As I said, speculation, based on the size of the nukes, is North Korea. That said, they’ve been pretty broke-dick on their nuclear program, and the Subs could have been the Russians. We just don’t know enough, and our technical limitations are severely curtailed with the EMP’s.
“I heard that some of the mountain communities, specifically in the valleys, escaped the full effects of the EMP, in that their vehicles and electronic devices work. But they’re attached to the same grid as everyone else, so they
also lost their electricity. The EMP’s electrons, or whatever, traveled across all power lines, and they’re all connected, frying everything attached to any North American grid. Transformers everywhere are blown, and a few cities burned because of the fires. Many more burned because of the people.
“There are rumors of some Nuclear Plants having problems, because not all of their back-up generator shielding worked as planned, but most of them were able to do emergency, manual shut-downs. I also heard of one melting down up North, like in New Hampshire or Vermont, maybe?”
“Add to that a smuggled Nuke at Atlanta’s Hartsfield Jackson International Airport – the world’s busiest. They had been publicly criticized numerous times for lapses in security, and smuggled weapons. There was even a gun smuggling operation that was broken up there. One test showed that over 90% of guns and fake explosives associated with a random security test got through security. Well, a weapon got smuggled in. Again, not a huge yield one, but the world’s busiest airport has been reduced to radioactive crater. Most of downtown Atlanta is gone, too. The suburbs got some of the fallout, but the prevailing winds pushed most of it East.”