The Blue Ridge Resistance

by Steven Bird

  In the back of the trailer, Jimmy and Charlie caught Ed up on the events of the previous year. Ed had heard the stories, of course, but not with the level of detail they were sharing with him.

  The tractor eventually came to a point where U.S. Highway 70 took a turn to the left through a cut in the hills, and no longer paralleled the French Broad River. Jason reviewed the map and said, “This must be the peninsula Tyrone mentioned. It looks like we are gonna be down between high terrain on both sides for a while. We had better keep our eyes peeled.”

  “Yep,” replied Evan. “Especially knowing there are scumbags out there like the ones the Gibbs and Jackson families ran into.”

  “Stop the tractor for a minute,” Jason said.

  “What’s up?”

  “Oh, I just don’t want to key up the radios and give anything away. That and I have to piss,” Jason replied.

  “Me too, now that you mention it,” Evan replied with a grin.

  They pulled the tractor to a stop. Both Evan and Jason climbed down and joined the men in the back. They used the opportunity to take a quick break, as well as to discuss as a group how to mitigate the potential threats that may lie ahead. Charlie spoke up and said, “Maybe we should pull the ATVs out of the trailer and have one take point and one rear. There’s no need to have them inside where, if we were ambushed, we would be sitting ducks trying to unload them. Spreading out would give our would-be attackers pause; if they fired on the ATV up front, they would know they could have fire returned from the other positions.”

  Jason replied, “That sounds good. I was thinking the same thing. I just didn’t want to volunteer you guys to be out in the open like that.”

  “Hell, if they want to stop the convoy, they’ll take Evan out first since he’s driving the tractor, not the ATVs,” added Jimmy with a devilish grin while looking at Evan.

  “You’re right, Jimmy. Maybe you should drive the tractor,” he said in reply.

  They all shared a chuckle and then Charlie said, “Hell, I’ll take point. You get it next time though, Jimmy.”

  “Deal,” Jimmy replied.

  They then unloaded their ATVs, checked their weapons, formed up in an appropriate tactical bound, and proceeded into the cut in the hills. As they continued up the road, Charlie would stop on occasion to glass the area up ahead before proceeding. Evan’s pace was a bit slower, matching Charlie’s stop-and-go cadence nicely, without having to do the same with the tractor. Jason scanned the hills to the left, Evan the right, and Jimmy kept an eye on things from behind. About halfway through the cut, Charlie came to a stop and gave Evan the signal to halt. Evan brought the tractor to a stop as they readied their weapons, unsure of what Charlie had seen up ahead. Jimmy saw that Jason was giving him the rally-on-me signal, so he joined up with the tractor and trailer accordingly.

  “What’s up?” Jimmy asked.

  “Not sure,” replied Jason. “Charlie stopped suddenly, gave us the halt command, and then dismounted. He’s checking something out now.”

  Charlie then gave the signal for Jimmy to join him. Jimmy said, “Well, I guess I’m about to find out,” as he started his ATV and rode ahead to meet up with Charlie.

  Evan and Jason could see Jimmy dismount up ahead, while Charlie seemed to be explaining something to him, pointing at various places on the ground. Jimmy then got back on his ATV and rode back to the tractor, leaving Charlie standing guard up ahead.

  “What’s up?” Jason asked.

  “There are signs of a scuffle up ahead,” he replied. “There are skid marks on the road where someone seems to have slammed on their brakes and swerved. There are also a lot of shell casings on the ground. Mostly 7.62x39 Russian and a few .223 Remington. There is something that may be a spot of dried blood, but it’s kind of weathered and hard to tell for sure. Either way, something went down up ahead.”

  “That’s the perfect choke point,” Jason said, pointing at the map. “Well, no one is shooting at us yet. Let’s keep moving, but keep your game face on.”

  “Roger that,” Jimmy replied as he rode his ATV back behind them, re-establishing his position in the rear.

  Jason gave Charlie the thumbs up and the convoy resumed its forward progress. Before long, the group was almost out of the cut in the hills and could see the terrain open back up ahead with the French Broad River once again visible on the right side of Highway 70. They all felt relieved to be out of what they considered a dangerous area, an assumption backed up by the evidence Charlie had found on the road.

  Once they were in the clear, Evan stopped the tractor to allow the group to form back up. Jason gave the signal to Jimmy and Charlie to return. Once they were back to the trailer, they loaded their ATVs back inside to save fuel and continue their journey east.

  As they continued along the highway, they saw several homes on the right side of the road. The homes sat in the thin strip of ground between river and the Highway 70 and looked abandoned and in disarray. They could also see a home on the left side of the road just up ahead, tucked into the hillside with a tree line just behind it. There were signs that it was occupied. They did not want to linger too long to find out, just in case there was a trigger-happy resident that didn’t like the sort of things that had been taking place on their once tranquil country highway.

  After traveling a few more uneventful miles, they came upon a fork in the road where Tennessee 107 split from U.S. Highway 70 to the left. As they slowly approached the fork in the road, Evan brought the tractor to a stop while leaving the engine running. He looked at Jason and said, “Well, the original intent of this outing was for trade and barter. Do you think those houses up there are worth checking out?”

  “Let’s give it a shot,” Jason replied. “If nothing else, maybe they can give us some good intel on where to look, or on the scumbags that might be preying on unsuspecting travelers up ahead.”

  “Let’s send an ATV up ahead before taking the tractor and trailer there where we’d have a hard time turning around if things went to hell in a hurry,” Evan added.

  “Roger that,” said Jason as he climbed down from the tractor and went back to talk to the guys in the trailer. “Charlie,” he said through one of the windows, “would you mind running up ahead and checking out some homes that we may be able to do some trading with? We can get both ATVs out and have Jimmy on standby to assist if you get into a bind. I’ll cover you from the top of the trailer with my .300 Win Mag. I can definitely reach you from here if need be. I’d just prefer to have Jimmy stay back a bit at first; a lone ATV rider won’t appear to be much of a threat to any of the occupants of the houses.”

  “Sure thing,” replied Charlie as he and Jimmy opened the trailer doors and once again unloaded their ATVs.

  “Take the other handheld radio so we can communicate. You can call us on up if things look and feel right, and if anyone wants to barter or trade.”

  “Thanks,” said Charlie as he reached out and took the radio from Nate, who had been holding onto the one being used from inside the trailer.

  Charlie fired up his ATV and headed up the road. He had a pistol on his side, but chose not take a long gun; he did not want to appear to be a threat to the residents that may still live in the homes. Jason watched anxiously from a distance through his Nightforce scope as Charlie approached the cluster of homes.

  Charlie stopped on the road in front of one of the houses that appeared occupied. He could see smoke coming out of the makeshift pipe chimney that looked as if it had added to the house in a very crude manner. He climbed off his ATV and walked up to the driveway. He paused at the entrance to the driveway, allowing himself to be seen, assuming the occupants were watching him from within. After a few moments, he saw the front door open slightly as a voice yelled down to him, “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied. “My friends and I are looking to do some trading, if that is something that you may be interested in. We are from a community in the hills near Del Rio. We’re practically neighb
ors.”

  “What do ya got?” the man yelled from inside the house, remaining out of view.

  “We’ve got some canned goods and some alcohols,” shouted Charlie in reply.

  After a brief pause, the man inside the house opened the door and said, “Come on up, this yellin’ is gettin’ to my throat.”

  Charlie did as the man asked and walked towards the house while Jason watched from below. The man inside the house was a weathered-looking fellow in his mid to late sixties, a thin build, and of average height. As he reached the front of the house, the man said, “So you’re from Del Rio you say?”

  “Not exactly Del Rio, although I used to run the little hardware store there,” Charlie replied as he reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Charlie Blanchard; nice to meet you.”

  “Fred Simpson,” the man said, returning Charlie’s handshake.

  “My friends you see down by the road, with the tractor and trailer, and I live in a little homesteading community in the hills outside of Del Rio. We’ve been doing pretty well by ourselves up there and have a few things we can spare. We thought we may be able to form some relationships and trade with folks who are still around these parts.”

  “You say you’ve got alcohol?” the man asked.

  Charlie smiled and said, “Yes, sir. We have a few bottles of whiskey and a stash of shine distilled right there in our own neck of the woods. Our master distiller is the man on the other four-wheeler down by the tractor.”

  Mr. Simpson squinted to try to see Jimmy at a distance, but it was clear to Charlie his eyes were beginning to fail him in his old age. “Come on in and let’s talk business,” he said, ushering Charlie into the house, closing the door behind him. This made Jason nervous, as he was not able to see what was going on.

  As Charlie entered the house, he noticed that the living conditions were an unsanitary mess to say the least. A house cat clearly had free reign of the furniture, and it appeared as if its waste had not been cleaned up in quite some time. An elderly woman sat in a rocking chair in the corner and rocked back and forth without saying a word. “That’s Ruth,” Fred said as he pointed toward the woman. “She used to live a few houses up the street before this shit storm all started. She’s been staying with me ever since. We brought her food and supplies down to my house and we’ve been keeping each other going. My son used to visit every couple of weeks, but he stopped coming about six months ago. I don’t know why,” he said as he looked down to the floor, clearly distracted by his own thoughts. “But anyway,” he said, regaining his composure, “my son used to work at one of those big club stores where you buy everything in bulk. He always watched that show about those crazy people that stocked up for the end of the world. He started bringing home lots of stuff in bulk—to prepare I guess. Anyway, he didn’t want to keep it all at his apartment in Asheville. He knew if it all fell apart, he would, more than likely, come running this way; he started bringing it out here and took up all the space in my shed. If there is anything out there you want, we could work out a deal for some of that booze you’ve got. I’ve been out the stuff for a while, and cranky ol’ Ruth over there could sure use a good, stiff drink every now and then too.”

  “Well, sir, let’s take a look,” Charlie replied.

  Watching intently from the fork in the road, Jason observed the front door of the house open. Charlie and a man from the home exited and walked around back to a storage shed. “Something is going on,” Jason said to the others on the ground below.

  “What’s up?” Evan asked anxiously.

  “Charlie came outside with the man from the house and they went around back. They are in a large shed now. I would guess they are looking for barter items—at least that’s what I hope is going on.” Just as Jason finished his sentence, he saw them come back out of the shed, carrying a cardboard box. “Charlie’s got something.”

  “What is it?” asked Evan.

  “All I can see from here is a box… okay; they set it down on the front porch. Charlie is walking back out to his ATV now. It looks like he’s coming back.”

  “Without the box?” asked Evan.

  “Yep, but the box is on the porch still, so we may have a trade to work out.”

  Charlie rode back down the hill towards the fork in the road, where the others waited. He pulled up alongside the trailer, shut off his engine, dismounted, and said, “Well, guys, you’re gonna be quite pleased with our first little negotiations session.”

  “How so?” replied Evan.

  “Coffee,” Charlie said with a smile.

  “Coffee? Great. How much?”

  “Forty pounds of whole bean coffee. It turns out the man’s son was sort of an amateur prepper and just happened to work at a club wholesale store. He’s willing to trade ten pounds of coffee per jar of Jimmy’s moonshine. He wants at least four jars, so that’s a hell of a lot of coffee. He’s got more than he can ever drink, which means we may be able to come back through some other time for more.”

  Ed smiled and said, “His son was smart—stocking up on things like coffee, that is. Coffee will always be useful as a form of currency.”

  The men shared a laugh and then looked at Jimmy to get his approval. Jimmy smiled and said, “Well, hell yeah! Get that man his shine.”

  They put the four jars of moonshine into a box on Charlie’s ATV rack to take back up the hill. Charlie made the trade and then came back down the hill to join the others. After loading the coffee into the trailer, Charlie said, “I asked if anyone else up there may be interested in working out any deals. Unfortunately, he told me it would be best if I didn’t let the other folks know we had barter items, unless we were willing to give it away for free. He said no one else had anything to give and that they were a bit trigger happy with strangers after a few less-than-desirables have been through as of late.”

  Jason interrupted to ask, “Did you ask him about what’s on down the road this way?”

  “Yes, he said after a few more miles we’re gonna find a stretch of road that most of the locals won’t go down. It’s uninhabited, with no outs if you run into a problem. He said most of the locals here continue up Route 107 to get anywhere, but steer clear of 70 from here to the bridge that takes you back across to the other side of the river”

  “Why is that?” asked Evan.

  “Probably the same reason the Gibbs and Jackson families didn’t fare so well down that way. He said there are some low-life folks that stay up in the hills and come down to prey on passersby.”

  “Did he know exactly where they stay?” asked Jason.

  “No, unfortunately the locals just know somewhere up on the hillside, overlooking the road. All they have to do to pin someone in, is block the bridge and the other end of the road. Whoever is on the road in-between, gets trapped with no way out without going through them. He said he thinks they are from Richmond or Asheville. Acting like that, they are definitely not local folks, according to him.”

  “Yep, probably out-of-towners looking for a small pond to be a big fish,” Nate replied.

  “Well, guys, I say we press on into the spider’s web and smash it. We need to get to Hot Springs. Along the way, we’ll keep any eye out for the Jackson women. Are you guys still up for that?”

  “Hell, yeah!” they all replied.

  “Well, let’s load up and get rolling then. Daylight is burning,” Evan said as he climbed back onto the tractor.

  Chapter 20: Living in Hell

  She could hear her mother’s screams from the other room. She curled up on the floor behind the bed, bound to it by handcuffs and chains, trying to pretend the horrible events weren’t happening. She knew all too well the hell her mother was enduring, as she herself had gone through it repeatedly since they were taken from their father. She was a virgin before this all started, but she knew she would never be able to wear that moniker again.

  She had been brutally beaten and repeatedly gang raped by the band of thugs that had taken them. Their rhythm seemed to be t
o take one at a time into the other room while the other recovered for a few hours. They would then trade them off and do it all over again. She was bleeding from inside and was in terrible pain. She hadn’t eaten in days and had barely been given anything to drink—just enough to keep her alive. She had been stripped of her clothes and was forced to shiver in nothing but the cold of her own blood and tears. They had done terrible things to her—twisted things that she never imagined would please a man—things she would never be able to get out of her mind. She prayed for God to take her, to let the next time a man hit her be the final blow that sends her off to Heaven to join him.

  The door swung open as one of the men carried her naked mother into the room, throwing her on the bed. She was unconscious from the vicious beating she had received while trying to fend off her attackers and smelled of their alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. The man looked at the young girl and said, “Don’t worry, bitch, you’re not gonna miss out on all of the fun. It’ll be your turn again next.” He then leaned down and handcuffed her mother’s limp wrist to the metal bedpost. He stood up, spat on her, and turned to walk out of the room. Before he left, he turned and said, “We’re gonna have to hose you beasts down, you’re starting to stink.”

  As soon as he was gone, the young girl climbed up from the floor, where she was attempting to stay out of the man’s way, and checked on her mother. “Mom… Mom,” she said as she shook her.

  She heard her mother whisper, “Is he gone?”

  “Yes, he’s gone. Please wake up, Mom.”

  Her mother opened her swollen eyes slowly, her eyelids flickering from her disoriented state. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry this is happening. I’ve failed you. I’m supposed to protect you, and here you are in this living hell.”