Fortress Farm Trilogy: Volumes 1, 2 & 3 (Fortress Farm Series)

by G. R. Carter

  The look of suspicion returned to the mayor’s face, this time mixed with mild alarm. “Colonel, where is the major going?”

  The mild alarm turned to panic when she heard the ready team vehicle’s engines roar to life.

  “Colonel, tell me where in the hell those men are going, right now!” she demanded.

  “I’m sorry, Madame Mayor, but those men have a different mission to attend to. One that is outside of your jurisdiction,” Colonel Walsh replied calmly.

  “As of right now, nothing is outside of my jurisdiction, you wannabe dictator! I knew you’d try to trick us, I knew it! That’s why the police chief is sitting outside of your gates ready to arrest whoever comes out before I do!” The Mayor regained her tomato tone.

  “I hope he doesn’t try to stop those men. I’m sure your chief is a brave man. But that group coming at him has all done at least three tours in the Sandbox. There’s nothing your police officers can do to intimidate them,” the colonel said sternly.

  His demeanor changed when he heard the sound of gunfire erupt outside. “Secure this group and keep them locked down,” he barked to the MP in the corner of the room.

  He ran out the door of his office yelling to the clerk just outside, “Sound the alarm, rapid response Delta to the gates!” He hurried through the parking lot not waiting for a reply. Just a short hundred-yard dash down to the gates, but the gunfire had already ceased by the time he got there.

  “SITREP!” he demanded as soon as he saw his troopers. An old city vehicle sat smoking from the engine compartment as he approached. Two men in police uniforms lay in the street in front of the vehicle. Another slumped figure behind the steering wheel, and a broken body draped over the bed of the truck. Two others had their hands behind their backs, laying face-down on the pavement. One seemed to be retching.

  He glanced at someone slumped up against his lead Humvee. He saw the gray urban camouflage fatigues issued to all men on his base, but not the man’s face. His worst fears were realized when he got close enough to see the now ashen face of his second. More than that, his friend, a man whom he had served with for over ten years, and the only person who could legitimately claim to have saved his life, twice no less. Unlike himself, the major was a religious man. In fact, the only other time the colonel had been in church in recent memory was to stand as Godfather for the major's kids.

  “What happened?” he shouted, half questioning, half commanding an answer. A second lieutenant assigned to the group came to attention.

  “Sir, the major tried to peacefully negotiate the removal of that vehicle from our path so we could leave. While he and the police chief were arguing, that civilian in the back of the truck raised his weapon so we provided covering fire. Somehow, in the chaos, the major got hit. I’m sorry, sir.” The young lieutenant looked shaken, even though he had seen combat.

  “Alright, Lieutenant. Let the medics take care of the major, and then you double-time up to that warehouse and secure that food, understood? No more negotiating. You get that food, and you bring it back here, ok? That was the major’s mission, and now it's yours. Go now!” the Colonel said firmly. The young officer shook off the shock and immediately began issuing orders to reorganize the column.

  They're good men, the Colonel thought. They deserve to be saved. Deserve to have a future no matter what happens. Unlike some of the filth that occupied this country and this so-called city.

  Colonel Walsh watched as the medics trotted his friend back to the base hospital via stretcher, but he knew it was too late. He witnessed the death of enough men to know when the spark of life was extinguished. This one was an unlucky shot that hit below the body armor he insisted all his men wear. The bullet severed an artery and it was over for him quick. Amazing how fragile the human body is in those circumstances. Then other times, a soldier could lose both arms and both legs and still live through it. That was with the miracle of modern medicine. What would medicine be like now? Back to roots and herbs? Maybe...better make sure the base library has reference books like that. We’ll search the campus and town libraries, bring that stuff back here. He’d also secure the two hospitals here in town. There would be a little time to accomplish that now.

  The mayor and the chief of police moved up his timetable with their actions. He walked back to his office, where the two remaining members of his security council were waiting. The look on their faces would have been ominous to the mayor if she could have seen it. But she had been restrained during the gunfight after flying into a fit of rage, demanding to be released and to see the city attorney. She didn’t know that she would be seeing that attorney soon enough.

  “Madame Mayor,” the colonel said calmly as he entered the office where she sat strapped to a chair, “by the authority given to me by the Emergency Powers Act, in the case of national crisis where no direct contact is established with the Federal Government and local military forces, I have the right of declaring martial law inside any municipal jurisdiction in which I am stationed.

  “What that means is that Uniform Code of Military Justice is in effect here. I am the final say in how military justice is applied, understand?” The colonel couldn’t understand what the mayor mumbled, but he didn’t think it meant she agreed.

  “Under that Code, anyone responsible for the deliberate death of a service member can be convicted of a Federal offense. Because you caused the death of one of my men, and in fact my second-in-command, I am charging you with capital murder.” Suddenly terror filled her face. He saw that she had a nasty bruise on her forehead and her blazer was torn.

  She began to cry. “You can’t be serious! You’re going to put me in prison because I tried to stop you from stealing our food? Please, Colonel, I’m sorry. Let’s talk this through. I was just trying to help the people of my city. And now we really do need you if there are police officers hurt.”

  “Not hurt, Madame Mayor, dead. Your police chief is dead, and so are some of your other officers. So effectively, we are now the only hope this city has for keeping order. You are responsible for permanently removing one of the best men on this planet from my command. A man with experience in helping civilian populations through difficult times.

  “Now I have to go explain to a wife and two children why their American hero, who has survived situations that would make you die of fright, was gunned down on his own base by the very people he was trying to save,” the colonel said as he strained to keep his composure.

  “No, Madame Mayor, I am not going to put you in prison. I am going to make you an example of military justice, which is what people like me should have been doing with political scum like you all along. I am going to take you to the town square, and along with your goon squad, I am going to personally put you in front of a firing squad.”

  The room was silent. The four city council members who accompanied the mayor to the meeting were completely devoid of color. She sat eyes wide, staring at the colonel. As the colonel spun on a heel to walk out of the office, he noticed one of his captains had an odd look on his face.

  Captain Martin Fredericks was a good man, and a brave soldier. He served two tours with the colonel, never questioning a single command. Fredericks had been on board with the securing of the food supply. So what was that look?

  I’ll have to think on that. Did he disagree with my decision to declare martial law? Fredericks has been in enough situations to know how this is done, the Colonel thought.

  They pacified dozens of villages all over the Sandbox, many times in ways just like this. If the village elder or tribal leader caused one of their men to get hurt, they held that leader responsible. What was the other choice, burn the village down? No American soldier wanted to hurt women or kids. So the man in charge, and it was always a man over there, paid the price. Amazing how when the tough-guy shot-caller faced the consequences, things quieted down.

  That’s all he was doing now. Just keeping things quieted down. The mayor caused his best man to get killed. If I don’t punish t
hat, what would happen next? This city was as big as any other place he had pacified. If he let this sniveling rat of a leader get away with murder, the whole place would spin out of control. When the laws stopped applying to the lawmakers, America came apart.

  No, he knew he what he was doing was right. The Emergency Order was the last command given by the Pentagon, and this was what his experience told him was the right way to carry out that order.

  Maybe Fredericks was troubled by the thought of executing a woman. That must be it. And if Fredericks was feeling that way, most of the others probably would feel squeamish about it, too. Better not have a firing squad do it. Okay, he understood that. The firing squad would execute the city council and two surviving cops.

  As for the mayor? He’d do that himself.

  *****

  University City

  Courthouse Square

  “My fellow Americans,” Colonel Walsh announced from the top of the courthouse steps as he licked the dust from his lips. It looked like a few hundred of the townspeople had turned up. The rest must have fled or been in hiding. No matter, this would do for his purposes. “Our world has changed. I know that you are all concerned about what has happened to the power grid. I am, too.

  “But more importantly, we are concerned about what is going to happen to our families. The soldiers under my command are committed to protecting each and every one of you. But to do that, we must have complete confidence that they will be able to return to their own families each day.

  “Unfortunately, today one of my men was killed due to the actions of a group of people here. People who claimed to be your leaders. These same people also were trying to hoard the food that is the rightful property of the Federal government, and by extension, property of you good folk.

  “They intended to hold that food for their own good, leaving you to fend for yourselves until the power comes back on. My last command from the Government was to issue an emergency command protocol, giving my command authority over security and food distribution.” Colonel Walsh paused to let the crowd digest this information. The look in their eyes told him they were already in despair. The power had been out just a few days, and desperation crept over the city like a poison fog. Nine meals from chaos, indeed.

  “Because both theft from civilians and murder are capitol offenses under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, I have acted on your behalf and charged the following people and sentenced them accordingly.”

  Jude Cochran, the city attorney, began to read off the names. When Walsh explained to him the situation earlier in the day, the bureaucrat immediately realized the direction the wind was blowing. He had a legal document agreeing with the Colonel’s assessment of the situation and the steps he was taking created, signed, and notarized in less than thirty minutes.

  Cochran’s compliance meant that he would have a job handling the civilian population for the Colonel. Those were tasks and duties his men didn’t have time for. Walsh then scheduled a meeting with the provost of the University to be held immediately after this assembly was over. He would use that woman’s administrative skills and campus infrastructure to handle the details there.

  Walsh scanned the crowd as Cochran read the charges, the names, and the punishment. There was little reaction to the sentence. Just hungry faces looking at him, waiting for us to save them.

  Maybe an impromptu change in agenda was necessary.

  “Good people of University City. Let me explain what is going to happen next. We have set up food distribution centers on each side of town. If you follow Route 45 north or south, you will find a center set up right outside of the city. Additionally, if you follow Highway 150 east or west out of town, you will find another center.

  “Each of you will receive three days of rations for each member in your family. I’m sorry, that’s the only way we can do it. Security would be impossible inside of town. I’m afraid that the out-of-towners at the University would try to overrun the distribution center if we put it too close. Does everyone understand?”

  The looks on their faces told them he cut through the mental fog. Walsh knew how to play tribe against tribe with the best of them. What the townies didn’t know was that he was setting up a distribution center right in the middle of the campus, and that would give him exactly the opportunity he needed. The University gave him a recruiting base of thousands of eighteen to twenty-three-year-old men and women. Lots of deprogramming would have to be done with these kids, but enough could be trained to pacify the others. They had no way of getting home, and no food. He was sure he could win their hearts and minds through their stomachs.

  He already had his command team updating the farmstead plan they used in Afghanistan to give the tribes something to do besides grow poppies and kill each other. He intended to assign groups of students to security, foraging or farming, depending on their skill sets. Plenty of land was available in parks and golf courses, plus whatever they had to confiscate on surrounding farms to get the right amount of production.

  Able townspeople would enjoy the same opportunity. The point of setting up distribution centers away from where people lived was to weed out anyone too fat or lazy to be of use to the community. Those with ability and initiative would arrive at the centers to find a hook under the bait: they would be given the option of joining his command. He assumed the good men would jump at the chance to keep their families fed. Since entire families would arrive together to get the maximum amount of supplies, there would be no reason not to stay where it was safe.

  On the other hand, those still expecting soldiers to drop food off at their house would eventually figure out help wasn’t coming to them. The scared and starving would descend as a mob on the centers. His new recruits would be the ones to hold off the zombies, keeping his veteran soldiers safe. Plus that would give new soldiers the terror of combat experience needed to understand chain of command.

  Walsh figured it would take about two weeks to weed out the hopeless and identify those who would become valuable members of the community. An aggressive timetable, he admitted to himself. But he was able to accomplish similar results in places that still thought Allah would be saving them from the evil American devil. They were wrong, and he proved it to them countless times. Eventually they accepted he was their god.

  The campus would be a bit trickier. But if he had to, he would just isolate that population for a while and then use his new townie recruits to pacify any resistance. Walsh remained confident at least a thousand or more students could be recruited right away to join the security force. With that, the rest could be turned into farmers or foragers after the desperation set in. I’ve got to keep enough females alive and not traumatized to pair up with the new soldiers. He learned that men who were married took commands a lot better than single men with time to think about their own version of right and wrong.

  While he finished up his instructions for accessing the food, he could see a few people begin to melt away from the crowd. These would be the ones smart enough to start heading towards the food supply immediately. Consciously or not, they instinctively understood that first movers had a better chance of getting to the front of the food line. Any other information announced during this assembly would come to them via word of mouth and they didn’t need to see an execution when there were families to feed.

  Good, Walsh thought. There were still some people with an idea of duty and responsibility. He would be happy to have those types in his auxiliary forces. Eventually he intended to assign each of his officers a sector of the city or surrounding countryside. Each officer would receive a contingent of real soldiers under their command, along with a force of auxiliaries to help produce food, fuel or other needed assets. There weren’t enough of his men to go around, so they’d need more good recruits to accomplish his ambitious goals.

  Now I’m beginning to realize what all the training and difficult situations in my career were meant to accomplish, Walsh thought. His whole life existed as a lead-up to rebuild a
civilization in a structured way. Not haphazard like America became. He would create a society built on honesty and organization.

  I’ll have the base historian write a report on what the Romans left behind in Britain after the fall of the Empire did to survive. Surely they would have some insight into what it was like to be an outpost of civilization in the middle of barbarians. At least the barbarians he would face here would be unable to fight or fend for themselves. A far cry from the Pics or Celts that the Centurions faced.

  Alright, Attorney Cochran is finally done blathering. As the pudgy little man looked back at Walsh, the next step was finally settling in. He was participating in what the attorney saw as a real life coup.

  The colonel didn’t see it that way, of course. The law was on his side, no question. Besides, who ever witnessed the collapse of an empire before? Certainly no one alive today. He had to do what he knew was right.

  Walsh nodded to the lieutenant now in charge of in town security. Progressing through the firing squad commands, the khaki pants of one of the councilmen began to turn a darker brown. They all stood against the brick wall of the courthouse. No movie silliness, no final words, no cigarette for the doomed. This was real-world stuff, just like he did it in The Sandbox.

  The sound of twelve rifles discharging, three pointed at each councilman, was like an explosion in the townspeople’s ears. As the bodies of the dead men pitched backward, several witnesses bent over and vomited uncontrollably. This would leave a lasting impression on every citizen here, and hopefully they would all take the message back to their friends and neighbors: don’t hurt a soldier.