Avenging Home

by Angery American

  Now I laughed. “Ted is more mature, huh? I guess compared to Mike a two year old is more mature.”

  “Exactly.”

  Just then, the static on the radio dropped out as a transmitter came on the air somewhere out there. Aric and I both focused intently on the radio.

  A man’s voice came over the radio. It was crystal clear and loud. I actually turned the volume down slightly.

  You’re listening John Jacob Schmidt on the Radio Free Redoubt, broadcasting to all of you in occupied territory as well as those outside the wire. Bringing you the news you need in these uncertain times. Good evening, patriots. We’re happy to report to you tonight that the Marine Corps has secured the Hartsfield-Jackson airport in Atlanta. In intense fighting, the Marines pushed aside the resistance. One Marine claiming, ‘it was a slaughter. We killed them by the dozens.’ With the airfield now in their hands, the Air Force has begun airlifting in reinforcements, equipment and much-needed supplies for the people of Atlanta. Those brave Marines deserve our appreciation and prayers.

  On a sad note, we’ve received word that Baltimore is burning. The reports claim it looks as if the entire city is ablaze in a fire storm. Refugees are said to stretch for miles, moving north and south on I-95 as well as west on I-70. Conditions are said to be horrific. The source of the fire is currently debated, with the Federal troops claiming the military started it by bombing the city. Brigadier General Dawson claims that operatives of the Federal forces started the fire as an act of retribution for an ambush that resulted in the death of several troopers.

  On the west coast, conditions in San Francisco are deteriorating rapidly. As the city pulled together in the initial aftermath of the event, that solidarity has become fractured in recent weeks as resources dwindle. The city has been broken up into distinct districts, and the roads blocked and movement heavily restricted according to the neighborhood you live in. There are unconfirmed reports of hundreds of dead in street fighting.

  In the southwest, the war with Mexico is heating up.

  Hearing that, I looked at Aric. “I wondered what they were up to. I knew they’d try to take advantage of the situation.”

  As the broadcast continued, I took a Write in the Rain notebook from my pocket. I was surely going to miss those things when I used the last one. I wanted to be ready for the message this time. While listening, I was processing what I’d heard. I worked for a time at the BWI airport, and spent some time in Baltimore. I was imagining that city on fire.

  What I remembered of Baltimore was that it was a crowded city. I’m sure there were a lot fewer people now, but still quite a crowd. The thought of being caught in a place like that was horrible to me, terrifying. I’d been fortunate about where I was when things went down. I could have just as easily been in Atlanta.

  As Mexican nationals continue to stream south, American citizens are prevented from crossing the border. There are reports of hundreds shot dead trying to cross the border to the south. The Texas National Guard as well as elements of the Third Armored Cavalry Regiment, repulsed an attempted cross-border foray by Mexican troops. Even in their weakened state, the Texans were far more than the Mexicans could handle. However, the Mexicans have gained ground in southern California, New Mexico and Arizona. In all but California, their advance has been checked through the judicious use of air strikes by Air Force, Marine and Army aviators. Again, it cannot be said enough. The men and women of our armed forces deserve our sincerest appreciation and prayers. Keep up the good fight!

  On the international front, the UN Security Council is currently debating the resolution to send in peacekeepers. From what we’re hearing here in the Redoubt, there would appear to be considerable pressure on the UN to send in troops. Though the ambassador from the UK claims those urging the use of force are in reality asking for permission to invade. The Department of Defense has made its position very clear. Any vessels attempting to reach the shores of the US will be met with force. In unequivocal terms, they were told they’d be sent to the bottom of the sea. We can only hope cooler heads prevail. God bless the United States of America.

  And with that the transmission ended. The message I was expecting never happened. I waited, expecting any minute to hear it. After a couple of minutes, I turned the radio off.

  “Holy hell,” Aric said.

  “No shit. Can you imagine a city like Baltimore burning?”

  He looked at me. “Can you imagine the Mexicans shooting Americans? I mean, you remember all that shit their government did? They encouraged their people to come over here! Remember how those illegals were always portrayed as poor little victims? That Asshole-in-Chief tied the hands of the Border Patrol, and those pricks in the Justice Department wouldn’t prosecute them. Hell, they had a standing policy to let them go when they were caught!”

  “Oh, I remember. And look how they act when the shoe’s on the other foot. Wonder where all those whiney liberals are now. They were so against guns. Makes me wonder how many of them had wished they had one just before they died.”

  Aric snorted. “Shit. A lot of them had guns pretty damn quick. Hell, I bet a bunch of them already had them!”

  Looking down my nose, I said, “Only to protect themselves from people like us of course.”

  “Yeah, just like politicians surrounded by armed security telling us we couldn’t have guns. It drove me nuts.”

  I laughed. “I find your attitude very interesting considering where you came from. I mean, you were part of the machine. How did you reconcile your personal views with what you were doing?” I could tell the question hurt him, but I was genuinely curious about it.

  Aric spun around and leaned against the bunker. Crossing his arms, he let out a breath. “It wasn’t easy.” He looked directly at me. “But I fell into a position I didn’t want to be in. I had to survive and I wasn’t prepared for what happened. I should have been. I should have been prepping all along. But I didn’t. Like I said, I was hung up on the idea of the good life and chasing what we were always told was the American Dream. But it was all bullshit. That whole consumer-driven idea was only the dream of bankers. Not us. “

  Nodding, I said, “You’re right about that. That’s why I never went into debt. Not that there weren’t things I wanted or needed. I just avoided the use of credit. I figured if I couldn’t pay cash for it, I didn’t need it. The only loans I had were the house and my truck payment. Neither of which I now have. So what’s the point? I like the good life. I like a nice house and air conditioning. Vacations and going out to eat. But in the end, those are all just distractions from the things that really matter. The things that preserve life.”

  He nodded. “I know. So I got caught with my pants around my ankles. I had to do something. And when the DHS offered me a spot, I took it. But it was wrong, and I knew it. I compromised my morals by doing what I was told. I told myself it was for the best, and these people needed our help whether they wanted it or not.”

  I grunted. “The old line of, we know what’s best for the people.”

  “Yeah, exactly! That’s really how they think. They look at us like cattle; and it goes all the way to the top. People for labor were accounted for just like fuel. They were seen as a consumable commodity.”

  “In the Before, we were seen as ATMs. Now, just a strong back. What you’re saying reminds me of the way the Nazis dealt with the Jews and others they considered undesirable. One of the first steps of this process is to dehumanize people. If you can get folks to view others as less than human, then it’s much easier to abuse them.”

  He pointed at me, wagging his finger. “You know, that’s exactly what they are doing now. They call anyone with an independent streak or patriotic views Bubbas or Rednecks. They’re very, what’s the word, vehement in their hate for them.”

  I smiled. “For me. And now for you. What do they call the rest of the
people?”

  “Useful Slugs, for those that are capable of working. They look at them as some kind of investment. What’s the least we can put into them to get what we need out of them. And for those that aren’t able to work or bring some skill to the table, they’re just called Eaters. They’re seen as a drain, no return on the investment.”

  “See, just what I was saying. And it’ll get worse before it gets better.”

  Aric rubbed his chin. “Of course those aren’t the official terms. I’m trying to remember them. I think there was Able Bodied Manual, Semi-Skilled and Skilled. Then there was something like Infirm. And for the real undesirables, it was Radical with several levels running from Potential to Extreme. And you know what’s really bad? Nearly all of them had standing KOS, Kill On Site orders.”

  That was a shock? I asked. “Really? Kill on site?”

  Aric nodded. “Yeah. When we showed up, if anyone started mouthing off about Constitutional Rights or anything along those lines, they would pop them right there in front of the rest. It usually ended any debate, and most fell in line. But it didn’t always go that way. There were some hellacious gun fights, and the DHS didn’t always win.”

  I saw an opportunity and took it.

  “And what did you do in such situations?”

  He quickly shook his head. “Oh, I was never involved in any of that. I was on a team that scavenged. Of course, to the government everything is theirs and they have the right to take it. That’s what bothers me. That’s what I lose sleep over. Having participated in taking people’s property. Their food, weapons and even clothes.” He stopped talking and looked at the ground as he pushed the dirt around with the toe of his boot. “The worst one was when we found a family that was pretty prepared. They really had it together. We took everything from them. They had a small baby and this guy had done the math and stored enough diapers in the proper sizes to get his kid through until he was potty trained.” Aric looked at me. “We took it all. They left him one box of diapers. We took all the formula, everything.”

  Shaking my head, I asked, “What was their rationale? Why would they take something like diapers from someone?”

  “They took it because they wouldn’t come into the camp. It was to punish them. I knew the guy was a prepper and very patriotic, but he played it cool and didn’t say anything. So we just took everything. He has no idea how close to death his family was.”

  “Or maybe he did, and that’s why he didn’t say anything,” I replied.

  “Yeah, probably. But they took it all to the camp. I mean, we needed it there too. There were lots of kids to take care of and a lot of people were helped, and that’s what I kept telling myself. That’s how I justified it.”

  “Just like how the Jews had to surrender their property to the State. It’s the same thing. Or maybe they were fans of Marx, you know. From each according to his ability, to each according to his need,” I said.

  Aric nodded. “I know that now.”

  We spent the rest of the night in silence. I was lost in thoughts of what was going in. Sure, the news in Baltimore and Arizona was bad, but it didn’t have any impact on me or my family. But the thought of Russian or Chinese troops showing up, that would certainly have an impact on us. Hell, on everyone in the country. Because I’m quite sure that, contrary to their stated goals of wanting help us in our time of need, it’s just as much bullshit as I think it is.

  The fact they were so eager is disturbing. It’s like they’ve been waiting for the chance. Now that they think we’re weakened, they’re going to pounce. But I have a feeling they underestimate us. The Russians know full well what a determined people can do. They crushed the Germans in Stalingrad with sheer numbers. So when you consider private ownership of guns was not possible there, one can only imagine what the people of this nation would be capable of.

  I was relieved by Dalton and Danny around two in the morning. I needed a little sleep before taking on the task of moving the generator, among other things. But it was a restless sleep. I kept waking up with images of Russian or Chinese troops kicking in the door of my house and dragging my family out of the house. Not like they would. I’m sure they’d have bigger issues to deal with. We’re no more than a blip in the big picture.

  However, the thoughts were there, and I found myself several times watching Mel sleep. Sometime around five AM, I decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. I got dressed and went out to the kitchen for some tea. I had work to do today, and I may as well get ready for it. After pouring a cup of tea, I nosed around in the cupboards. I was curious how much more sugar we had. I found the container Mel kept it in. It was full. So I went looking for the bucket. I found it in one of the lower cabinets and pulled it out. I could tell just from the weight it was too light. Pulling the top off proved my fear. It was less than half full. Oh, the thought of not having tea once again! But it wasn’t like I could run to the store and buy a bag. Oh well, it is what it is.

  I went outside and tripped over the dogs lying on the porch. It never ceased to amaze me that they found it necessary to lie right in front of the door. There’s a whole porch there, but inevitably one of them would be right in front of the door! Meathead looked up at me when the door hit his belly. He didn’t move though. Instead, he simply dropped his head back onto the deck. So I used the door to scoot him out of the way.

  At my neighbor’s house was the trailer I planned on using for the generator. I went out and started the old Suburban. As it belched smoke, I gave it a minute to wake up. The pause also gave me a minute to think about my old neighbors and what happened to them. I know they went to the camp, but I didn’t see them there. It was odd that after the camp was abandoned, no one came back. What happened to them? Where else would they have gone?

  I pulled out onto the road and drove towards my old house near the end of the road. As I passed the bunker, I stopped for a minute and talked with Dalton and Danny, telling them what I was doing. Aftera bit of small talk, I continued down the road. It was kind of odd to be driving around in the dark. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done it.

  As I came to the house, I pulled through the open gate and drove towards the garage that sat off to the side. Turning the truck around, I backed up to the trailer and got out. The trailer had sat for a long time, so I inspected the tires carefully. They were in very good shape, probably fairly new. Continuing the inspection, I heard a thud and looked up. The sound came from the house. I squatted down behind the trailer and waited. I heard a shuffling sound and the floor creak, but nothing more. Someone was in there.

  I went to the truck and got my carbine and slowly moved towards the back of the house. Another thud, louder this time, confirmed someone was in the house. I picked up my pace and made it to the back door and found it standing open. Now I wished I had my NVG with me. Unfortunately, I didn’t and would have to rely on the light on the carbine. I always hated the thought of trying to clear a house. Especially at night with a light. It always seemed to me that turning one of these things on was turning on a shoot here light.

  Standing off to the side of the open door, my pulse began to pick up - I could hear it in my ears. I cautiously stepped up onto the concrete steps. Each subsequent step took considerable effort, I was scared to death. But eventually I was in the threshold of the door, staring into the inky blackness of the house’s interior. I had the carbine up to my shoulder and waited, listening.

  Hearing a bump to the right, I turned and started to walk through the kitchen. There was a stinks to high heaven, water your eyes stink. I couldn’t quite place it. As I took one slow step after another, my foot met some resistance. I placed weight on my right foot and stepped into something soft that felt as though it was mashing out either side under my step. I looked down but couldn’t see anything. But whatever it was, it was substantial. With my head still looking down, there was a sudden noise in front of
me. Instinctively, I hit the switch for the light on my rifle.

  The intense LED light filled the kitchen and stunned my eyes. But the presence of a huge black bear a mere couple of feet from me in the confines of the kitchen shocked me. Shit! I shouted and tried to back pedal to get some space between me and the bruin. But my right foot slipped on whatever I was standing in, and I fell back, landing hard on my ass.

  For his part, the bear let out a loud growl, groan or some kind of unholy sound. How my bowels didn’t let go, I have no idea. But as soon as my ass landed on the floor, I started shooting while trying to scramble away from the beast. The blast and concussion from the weapon was deafening. Being on the floor between the cabinets in the kitchen, there was no place for the muzzle blast to go except through my head it seemed.

  I kept firing as I tried to gain some purchase on the floor. But it was as if I only had one foot to work with, because the right one simply found no traction. To my great fortune, it must have been the first or second round that killed the bear. That didn’t stop me from shooting, however, as I continued to fire round after round. Once my senses returned to me, I stopped shooting. Smoke lingered in the beam of my light, and the smell of burnt powder hung heavy, mixing with the existing stench.

  As I was getting to my feet, there was a crash behind me. I spun to see Dalton coming through the door. His face was wild and he was breathing hard. His AK was at his shoulder and he was scanning the house.

  “What the hell’s going on!” He shouted.

  Giving him a little wave, “It’s ok.”

  Weapon still shouldered, he asked, “What are you shooting at?”

  I turned sideways and pointed to the opposite end of the kitchen. “That.”