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

by G. R. Carter

  “That’s something I wanted to ask you. How are you housing so many refugees out here?”

  “RVs. We give each family their own motorhome or pull behind until we get their permanent residence built. Once we’re done with the RVs at one fortress, we move them to the next and start the process all over again,” AJ said.

  “Where’d you find them all?”

  “The people or the RVs?” he joked. “There was a huge dealership out by the highway. The night of the Reset the owner was out on the east coast for some kind of business trip. After we figured out he wasn’t coming back, the Council of Mayors purchased each vehicle for $1 from him. Guess he couldn’t object.”

  The gallows humor took Bek by surprise for a moment. She had been very sensitive to it months before, considering the countless millions who had perished in the same way as the RV dealer. But her mother had helped her understand joking about death was merely a way to cope for some people.

  She moved on. “And the people who don’t want to become a Tenant in the fortresses? Or who don’t have a spot on one yet?”

  “Most everyone wants to come out to the fortresses. Tenants have a chance to become Land Lords of their own fortress farm once they put their time in,” AJ Said. “If they’re not ready yet, my mom set up a system in the towns where we use the schools to house them all. School Shelters is what we call them. Classrooms are family apartments, cafeterias are open for breakfast and dinner, and the large open areas like the gym are a commons area where people can socialize. Exercise isn’t a problem, since most of the adults spend all day working their tails off. But they feel good that their children are safe and sound until they get back from the day's chores.”

  He was proud of what his parent’s had accomplished. Both Phil and Anna were gone more than they were here. That left the responsibility for running the farm squarely on AJ and Sam, along with their sisters Esther and Lorraine. All took to the task, with only the occasional resentment that they were forced to run a fortified homestead instead of chasing the American teenage dream of no responsibility.

  “We’ve all had to grow up a lot faster and a lot different than we could have ever imagined,” Bek said with a sigh. “It’s almost like I can’t even remember what life was like before the Reset. It just happened months ago, what will it be like in a few years?”

  He looked up at the rivers of light piercing the night sky above them. “Maybe, if these things ever disappear, we can start getting back to normal. The Wizards say we could recreate a lot of what we had before if there wasn’t so much electrical interference.”

  “Yeah, well, it would be great to get internet back again. But for right now mom and I still have to find a way to feed several thousand people, keep a wannabe dictator from invading our campus and fight off crazed savages who want to do worse than just invade,” Bek said letting despair seep into her voice.

  “We’ll help you Bek. You all are good friends of ours. I know you’re survival is a priority of my dad’s. We’ll find a way to make it work.”

  They shared a look, a look that would have felt uncomfortably long except for the well-being it gave them both. Finally AJ looked away up to the top of the main fortress tower. “Would you like a tour of the Hawk’s Nest?”

  Chapter Two– Shield of the Okaw

  Okaw Valley Self Defense Cooperative

  School House Hill – Hamilton Family Farm

  Four Months after the Great Reset

  “Why can’t I go along?” AJ pleaded with his father. “I can handle a weapon, and you’ve trained me how to drive the Snapping Turtle.”

  Phil sighed, Alex inherited his mother’s ability to argue, and her stubbornness. Fortunately it was AJ’s mother who stood 100% opposed to him going along on the first salvage trip with the new armored trucks. Before Phil could speak, Anna jumped in.

  “Son, we need you here. With your father gone, you’re the only one who’s trained with the heavier guns. What if the farm gets attacked? Plus, we’re still making the changes to the defenses we agreed on. That's your primary project.”

  “Come on, Mom, you know this is the safest place in the county right now. Not only are the defenses better than anyplace else, Dad recruited every good shot from the towns to come and work on this farm.”

  Phil blushed just a bit; had it been that obvious? Or was AJ developing that eye Anna possesses. Oh well, either way, he wasn’t apologizing for having those men and women here on his farm. They needed a place to go, and he was willing to take them on.

  He found each of Schoolhouse Hill’s Tenant families during self–defense classes at the shelters. Weapons practice for the townspeople now reminded him a little bit of playground kickball. The team captains, in this case all Land Lords, would watch to pick out the best marksmen. Then if the personalities meshed well, those townsfolk would be invited to come live and work at their respective farms.

  In exchange for labor and helping with defense, the new Tenants received a place to live that wasn’t a crowded shelter, and food to eat that wasn’t beans and rice brought back from salvage trips. More importantly, the Land Lords agreed that after the first year, each Tenant received a plot of land for themselves. Mostly, this allotment was from out of town landowners who wouldn’t be coming back to claim the land. Now the soil fell under the stewardship of the closest farmer. So far most Land Lords understood the simple truth…there would be more land to till for generations than anyone could handle.

  Even with the advancements of the Wizards, the SDC’s miracle-working engineers, farming was still going to be closer to an early 1900s level for the foreseeable future. The best machinery that could be used was almost a century old, retrofitted to burn the soy diesel now being produced by the Greenstem biofuel refinery.

  One of Phil’s biggest fears was that this Land Lord/Tenant arrangement was laying the groundwork for a future feudal system. But no one had the luxury of forethought right now; the only luxury they could afford was a safe place to sleep and a stomach that was at least partially full.

  Phil and his pack of metal rolling Turtles would have to leave that safe place tomorrow. The county was beginning to run dangerously low on many critical items, and the salvage crews had to return to the eerie remains of larger cities to see what they could bring back. After Sheriff Clark Olsen’s first large salvage trip ended with one man dead and several wounded, the Wizards had been tasked with designing a vehicle that could both secure cargo and keep occupants alive long enough to get home.

  Several old farm trucks, all similar in make and model, received a new life as armored cars. With sloping sides and fronts, they looked more like a Civil War ironclad warship than an automobile. Each had a reinforced hitch at the back that allowed the Snapping Turtle to tow a salvage wagon. Though heavier than they would like and difficult to maneuver, the smiles on his salvage crew’s faces told him that their confidence was restored. These vehicles wouldn’t hold up to heavy firepower, but if they were going to face that, there wasn’t much hope anyway.

  The biggest non-secret was that the Wizards were already working on a new version, code-named Mark 2, but these nine unsightly beasts lined up beside him would work just fine for now. The odor of burning soy diesel hung in the air, just like it always did these days. The kids complained about it, but the adults who heard the terrifying stories coming out of the cities never said a word. Every man and woman in the county knew that Phil and the Wizards saved many of them from starvation or freezing to death. Without the soy diesel fuel systems, there would be no vehicles, no generators and no heat. Electricity from the generators was not always reliable but the glow from dim light bulbs and warmth from makeshift furnaces was a welcome reminder of a past life.

  He mentally checked his salvage list again. Of course, food and medicine would always remain the top priority. He pulled out the old phone book for Decatur and found two pet stores that would hopefully still have fish antibiotics which worked the exact same as human medicine in most cases. And dog fo
od for that matter. The Guardian dogs roaming the farms would enjoy that. Gun shops were on the list, but no one had much hope of finding anything useful there. Same with the Get–Marts sitting on every street corner. That wouldn’t be worth their time, since looters tended to hit the same places they shopped.

  Phil and Clark hoped schools and larger office buildings would remain worthwhile targets. After deciding to use their local schools as shelters, a pleasant surprise was the food storage kept in the cafeteria storerooms. Perhaps if they got lucky, pillagers hadn’t discovered the same hidden treasure. Clark told Phil how amazed he was that thieves were deterred by locked interior doors. Many times, a thief would break an outside door or window, but then hesitate to break down an interior door that was locked. Training regimens of each salvage crew included instructions to break down every locked door they came across in hopes of finding something useful. No sense in being quiet anyway; with nine metal Snapping Turtles belching black exhaust smoke, anybody left in the neighborhood would know they were there.

  Office buildings scattered throughout the city would contain both a cafeteria and a large selection of vending machines. Most modern office buildings were nearly fortresses themselves, able to withstand pedestrian attempts to break in. Phil and Clark had no intentions of making halfhearted efforts; they would blast their way in or even ram their way in with a Turtle. Again, no sense in being subtle. They were just there to get what they need and get out.

  The day wound down, with final preparations being made to the Turtles for the forty-five-mile trip into Decatur. The distance was nothing to travelers before GRAPEVINE crashed. Now stalled vehicles, fallen trees and other unknown obstacles lay in their way. Plus, the Turtles were going to be kept under thirty miles an hour for the trip. The Wizards didn’t yet know how the reinforced suspensions or the tires would hold up to the extra weight of the armor and heavier frame at higher speeds. Adding in the strain of towing a salvage wagon left a lot of variables to how the new vehicles might perform. So slow and steady like a Turtle, not quick like a hare, would rule the trip. Bottled water and homemade fiber bars passed for MREs or C-rations for this group of modern militiamen. Everyone hoped for something different to eat at their destination, if only enough to break the monotony of the food in their backpacks.

  This was the big adventure that AJ and every other young man who didn’t know better attempted to secure a seat for. Those staying behind were assured there would be plenty of opportunities if this trip worked out. If the trip went bad, though, those young men would have a seat at the leadership table much quicker than they knew.

  *****

  After some tearful goodbyes, handshakes and hugs, the twenty-seven men of the salvage group spent most of the road time in silence. Conversation over the rumbling diesel engines was difficult even at half throttle, and when the convoy slowed, everyone was on alert for trouble. The nervous tension of greenhorn warriors filled the vehicles. They were ready and motivated, but wholly unprepared for real combat.

  Even those who experienced Clark Olsen’s first salvage trip didn’t actually get in any fighting. They saw friends get hurt and die but they never laid eyes on who was trying to kill them in that ambush. Phil suspected that made several of that first group avoid volunteering for this trip. No one blamed them. These were husbands and fathers, tradesmen and farmers. None of those men expected to become soldiers.

  The group under his command today was different. Still untested, each man volunteered knowing what the game was. Actually, Phil and the Sheriff were the only two who weren’t volunteers. Somehow, everyone just assumed they would be going. Some of the volunteers were motivated by adventure, but most came because the supply situation was deteriorating. Ten thousand people were in many ways dependent on what these twenty-seven men accomplished over the next couple of days.

  Spirits were high among the group as they approached the outlying suburbs of Decatur. What had once been a Midwestern industrial hub of 100,000 sat silent as a tomb as they approached. Phil had no doubt there were plenty of eyes upon them; he just hoped that the monsters in the ruins were scared of the metal monster he rode in.

  Each Turtle had a driver and a navigator facing forward in the front seat. A security man sat facing backwards just behind them with a small observation window to look through. Just one second-row seat would fit due to the sloping and tapered back of the vehicle. The security man could pop up through a hatch with his weapon if needed to fire forward. Phil wanted something like a .50 caliber heavy weapon to be placed on top, but the Wizards asked him to be patient while they finalized a special project. They just had to work with what was available for now.

  The convoy stopped on an interstate overpass near the first off-ramp for the city. Sheriff Olsen was in the second Turtle, and Phil in the third. They left the engines running at all times to make sure they could spring to action if needed. Olsen scanned the area with binoculars, while Phil and his driver Johnny Jackson looked over the map. Jackson was an over-the-road semi-truck driver and knew the roads in and out of Decatur well. He had hauled out of the Caterpillar plant here hundreds of times before it was shut down and moved to an area nearer the ports used to carry the heavy machinery overseas. They considered splitting into groups of three to cover more ground, but Olsen made the final call to keep the group together. Being their first trip with the new vehicles, and considering the experience of the last trip, his primary concern was getting everyone back in one piece.

  Over the last several months, Phil had become the de facto leader of the county. Though he was unelected, the Council of Mayors deferred to his judgment most times. Phil certainly held the leadership post among the farmers...that is, as much as anyone actually ever leads farmers. More like herding cats, you could seldom get them to go where they didn’t want to.

  But regardless of the arrangements, Phil always deferred to Sheriff Olsen in matters of security. Not only had Olsen spent a lifetime in law enforcement, he also spent six years in the US Army. The sheriff's situational awareness got them out of Decatur that day right after the Reset when they went to get parts for their new biofuel plant. Plus his willingness to accept the absurd possibility that Americans would soon be fighting each other over scraps after the power went out was the catalyst that awoke Phil to what needed done to save Shelby County.

  *****

  Phil was amazed at the lack of people they came across. Live people, anyway. There was no getting used to the sight of human bodies in various stages of decomposition on almost every block. Whatever happened here was terrible, and to a man they shuddered to think of their own families facing that reality. Occasionally, a sentry would catch a glimpse of a shadow or a blur in the rubble. But no humans had yet challenged them in any way.

  After several searches of abandoned buildings, the group recovered solid if unspectacular finds. Two of the salvage wagons were filled with various dry goods. Also, junkyards yielded a treasure trove of parts and pieces needed for the biofuel and concrete plant. The Wizards sent a page-long wish list and the men were able to fill several of the requests as they moved from spot to spot.

  Phil smiled when one of the schools yielded cases of light bulbs to take back. He was reasonably sure these would fit the School Shelter light fixtures Anna needed to keep lit. Phil focused on the wish list still unchecked in his mind as Olsen walked up beside him, rifle slung over his shoulder.

  “What do you say we get a couple things more off our target list and then head for home?” he asked.

  “I was thinking something along those lines, too,” Phil replied. “There are still lots of things we need, but I'm pretty happy with our success.”

  “Agreed. I’ll be very happy if we can get out of here with no trouble. These Snapping Turtles are the perfect weapon if they keep us from having to fight.” Clark paused. “I just feel like the clock is ticking. Like whoever is out there is not so shocked by our appearance anymore. Like they’re trying to figure out now if they can take us.”

>   “I’m with you. Let’s hit this office complex here. Then we’ll declare victory and head for home. The ladies said that we needed every paper product used in bathroom-type situations. So toilet paper, paper towels and anything in a machine on the walls are priority targets. Oh yeah, and we need a couple of teams to hit the cafeteria too,” Phil finished.

  “Okay. I’ll get the Turtles set up in defensive positions. We’ll leave the drivers with the vehicles, and I’ll stay with one other guy. That will give you ten men to salvage, and leave me five for over watch,” Clark said.

  “Let’s do it. With any luck, we’ll be back in Shelby County by nightfall,” Phil said hopefully.

  *****

  Phil was bringing down his umpteenth load of paper products from the second ten-story office building in the three-building complex when he heard the sound of roaring engines and then distant gunfire. Dropping his armload of tissue paper, he grabbed his weapon and headed for the gaping hole where the front security office window used to be. They had to work to get this building open.

  As he peered out the opening, he clearly saw Sheriff Olsen shouting instructions and pointing to different Turtles. Each vehicle rumbled and the drivers were gathering behind the two command trucks. Phil sprinted to Olsen just in time to hear “Now, move to your vehicles!”

  “What’s going on, Clark?” Phil panted.

  “We’ve got inbound hostiles about a couple miles down the road. Just happened to notice them with the binoculars. Looks like a running gunfight, with a couple of vehicles being chased by what I swear looks like Army Humvees,” he replied.

  “Okay, I’ll go get the rest of the guys. Should we help or just act like we’re not here?”