Neighbors

by Jerry D. Young

  Hank lifted the PTR, but Bernie was much faster. She fired half a dozen rounds in few seconds and the small group dove back to their scant cover. With the gate locked again, and Bren and his family on the run toward the community shelter, Hank and Bernie began to go up the street backwards, keeping an eye on the gate. At least one person had shot at Bernie when she fired on the group.

  But no one tried anything and Bernie and Hank went back into the house, then the basement. Without a word, Bernie fetched another garment from the trunk and went into the bathroom again.

  When she came out a few minutes later, she had to help Hank get up and into the bathroom. She left him there. It was a long several minutes before he came back out, with a towel around his waist. Bernie had dry bandages ready and quickly replaced the water soaked ones.

  Finally, she helped Hank into the shelter, and into a bunk. He was out like a light.

  Hank came to several hours later and groaned when he shifted positions. He saw Bernie sitting at the small table in the kitchen area of the shelter, reading something.

  Hearing the groan, Bernie looked over at the bunk and stood. “I want to check your wound,” she told Hank.

  He nodded and managed to stand up on wobbly legs. Bernie turned around as the towel dropped to the floor. She heard Hank open the locker at the end of the bunk. A couple of minutes later Hank walked over to the table, wearing a pair of jeans.

  “Wow,” Hank said. “Didn’t think a little wound like this would hammer me so bad.”

  “One never knows,” replied Bernie. She peeled the tape and bandages from the entrance and exit wounds and cleaned the area again with alcohol pads. A few minutes later and fresh bandages were in place.

  “You’re pretty good. And fast,” Hank said, getting to his feet again. He went over to the locker and took out a shirt. He put it on and buttoned it. “What have I missed?” he asked Bernie, going over to the small table against one wall. It held communication gear and a remote reading radiation survey meter.

  “Do you know if the radiation is still going up or down?” Hank asked.

  As Bernie spoke, Hank noticed the pad next to the meter. “I’ve been recording the levels…”

  “I see. Peaked while I was asleep and falling now.” There was an old fire resistant file cabinet next to the table. Hank opened a drawer and took out a laptop computer.

  “You have TOM’s spreadsheet for calculating shelter stay time?” Bernie asked, walking over to look over Hank’s shoulder as he sat down and opened up the computer.

  “Yep. Assuming no more hits close enough to add new fallout…” Hank typed some numbers into the spreadsheet when it opened and then continued. “We’re in for five weeks or so before we can spend much time outside. Can go out to check after a week, and we’ll need to sleep in the shelter for several months. But the five weeks will get us past the worst of it.”

  Bernie nodded. “I’m going to take a nap.”

  Hank nodded and turned back to the computer.

  The first week passed slowly. By the seventh day Hank was able to raise both Pete in his basement shelter, and those in the community shelter on the FRS radios each had. Pete and family were doing fine. Several people in the community shelter that had been caught in the fallout on their way home were beginning to show some of the effects of radiation sickness.

  Bernie talked it over with Hank, and the two decided that Bernie should move to the community shelter to help with the ill. So both suited up in protective gear and left Hank’s shelter and house, Bernie carrying her medical pack.

  Both were glad they were wearing respirators when they checked at the gate into the cul-de-sac. There were more bodies, already decomposing, than they’d left after the gunfight that resulted in Hank’s injury.

  “Must have been a fight among those trying to get in,” Hank said, his voice slightly muffled despite the voice amplifier in the respirator.

  “We need to do something with these bodies…” Bernie said.

  Hank marveled at the calm tone of her voice. “But not now,” he replied. “The radiation level is still too high to spend more than a few minutes out here.”

  Bernie nodded and they headed for the community shelter. To their surprise, there were three bodies outside the west entrance. No mention had been made about an attack on the shelter. But there were two rifles, a shotgun, and three handguns lying beside the bodies. There were marks on the outer entrance door that indicated the three had hammered at the door, trying to get in.

  “Let’s check the east side,” Hank told Bernie and she nodded. It was the same scene, only with five dead, all carrying arms.

  “We’re staying out too long,” Hank said. “Let’s move the bodies at the west entrance and get you inside.”

  The two hurried back to the west entrance and dragged the bodies clear of the door. Hank pressed the intercom button beside the outer door, but nothing happened. After trying twice more, Hank took the FRS radio from his belt and keyed it.

  There was an immediate response. “Hank, we’ve been waiting for you.” It was Bren.

  “We’re at the west outer door. “We tried the intercom, but no one answered.”

  “I’ll be right out to let you in.”

  A few moments later and the door locking mechanism clanked, but the door didn’t open. “You back inside?” Hank asked on the radio.

  “Yep. Come on in.”

  Hank pushed on the heavy door and stepped inside the hallway that was part of the airlock entry to the shelter. Bernie was right behind him. Hank closed and locked the door and the two went to the inner door on the right side of the hall at the far end. It stood open.

  Before they went into the shelter proper, Hank and Bernie took off their protective equipment and hung it up on pegs in the wall there for that purpose.

  Elizabeth snagged Bernie and the two headed to look in on those suffering from radiation sickness. Hank stepped over to Bren and Henry. “Did you know there were bodies at both entrances?”

  “I told you I heard something,” Bren said to Henry. “And that the intercom wasn’t working.”

  “Must have been them,” Henry said. “We’re all accounted for, so it must have been people trying to break in.”

  “I think so,” Hank said. “All of them were armed. Didn’t have any supplies or anything, just their guns. There are several bodies down at the gate, too. I guess a few managed to get in.”

  “We didn’t kill anyone, after the ruckus at the gate,” Bren said.

  “It looks like they beat on the door, and when no one came and they couldn’t break in, they just gave up and let the radiation take them. If they were out during the worst of it, it wouldn’t have taken long.”

  “What should we do?” Bren asked.

  “Once the radiation falls, we’ll clean up what’s left of the bodies,” Hank replied.

  Bren looked sick. Henry didn’t look all that good, either, at the suggestion.

  “I think I’ll gather up the weapons though. No need to leave them for someone else to use against us,” Hank said then.

  “You want some of us to suit up and help?” Henry obviously wasn’t too enthusiastic about the idea, but he made the suggestion, anyway. And look greatly relieved when Hank shook his head.

  “No need to expose anyone else. If everything else is okay, I’m going back out and get the job done.”

  “Hank,” Henry said as Hank turned toward the shelter inner door.

  Hank turned back. “I just wanted to say… Well… Thanks for pushing us in the direction you did. Most of us, if not all, would be like those people out there. Dead.”

  “I’ll add my thanks to that,” Bren said. “I was reluctant at first, but you were right, all down the line.” Bren held out his hand and Hank shook it. Then Henry did the same. A bit uncomfortable now, Hank hurried to the shelter entrance. He suited up and left the shelter. Bren went out into the hallway and relocked the outer shelter door.

  Hank started to gather up the w
eapons from the three at that entrance of the shelter, but decided it would be much easier, and faster, if he got his garden cart to carry everything in just one trip.

  Hurrying, Hank got the cart out of the garden shed and made the rounds of the two entrances of the shelter and the gate. He kept the PTR-91 slung over his shoulder while at the gate. By the time he left the cart with the weapons, ammunition, and accoutrements in the garage the wound in his shoulder was aching and he was sick to his stomach. Some of the bodies were already well into decomposition. Others had been ravaged by hungry animals, probably pets turned loose when the attack began.

  Hank quickly unsuited and took a cleansing shower. The warm water helped wash away the feelings as well as any contamination he might have picked up. Still, he didn’t eat anything until the following day.

  Another three weeks passed before Pete, Hank, and two teams of three each from the shelter went out to move the dead bodies and do a survey of the area. All had at least tyvek overalls, dust masks, goggles, and gloves. Those with respirators were tasked with the job of handling the bodies while the others kept a guard and looked around the rest of the neighborhood.

  It took several hours, even using Hank’s four heavy-duty rototillers to help, to dig the single large grave. But, finally, all the bodies were under four feet of earth cover just outside the cul-de-sac.

  Two more weeks and outside work began in earnest. There were still small patches of thin snow here and there in areas sheltered from the weak spring sun, but lot after lot was decontaminated thoroughly, using Hank’s well and irrigation pump. It took all the garden hoses in the cul-de-sac to reach the furthest house, and the water flow wasn’t great, but the job got done.

  Most went armed during the work, despite a few protests against the idea. But with the arms collected from those that had tried to force their way inside the shelter, everyone that wanted a gun, got one. Hank kept only one of the recovered weapons himself, since he had most of what he wanted anyway.

  It was a sweet little Beretta Tomcat .32 ACP. Only three magazines, but the woman that he’d recovered it from had been carrying two full fifty-round boxes of ammunition, plus over half of another. She had carried it in a Galco Pushup model belt holster that Hank took to wearing whenever he was out of bed, the holster and pistol carried in the small of his back.

  With getting a bit of a late start, and the continuing coolness of spring, most attention was turned to getting the various gardens and greenhouses planted. But Hank, Pete, Henry, and Juan took it upon themselves to start an area census and do a little salvaging for critical supplies and for things that would go bad anyway, if not used within relatively short time spans.

  First they located everyone in the rest of their development that had survived the attack. There weren’t many. None had any type of long term supplies, or preparedness gear. They had lived after the attack in expedient shelters in their basements, going out as necessary to take food from wherever they could find it.

  The decision was made to move them to the houses nearest the cul-de-sac, after cleaning them up. It would make helping them easier, and easier for them to work inside the cul-de-sac. None of them would take any of the arms Hank offered.

  The next order of business was to strip the strip malls that lined both sides of the road leading into the rural development. It took days to get everything they wanted, or were asked to look for by those not going on the salvage trips. The biggest triumphs were two loaded grocery trucks stopped at one of the grocery stores. Neither had even been opened when the attack came.

  With no luck getting either of the semi trucks started, everything was moved two trailer loads at a time, using Hank’s trailer and Suburban, and Juan’s work truck and tandem-wheel flatbed trailer.

  They continued their salvage operations without any problems, finally getting one semi truck to run. They were able to use it to recover the two semi box trailers they’d emptied and then use the trailers to accumulate things in before taking a full load back to the cul-de-sac to unload there. Most of the items went into the community shelter and various garages that had room in them.

  The fuel tanks in the two competing service stations were all approximately half-full of fuel. It took the team several days to locate enough fuel tank trailers and a three-phase generator to power the fuel pumps so they could transfer all the fuel from the tanks to the tankers. As each tanker was loaded, it was delivered to the cul-de-sac and parked in an out of the way place, keeping them as far from the houses as possible.

  The team made a special trip to the nearest propane dealer and filled all the delivery tank trucks they had. There was one semi with dual tanks that delivered to the facility, and five of the ten wheel home delivery trucks. All were moved to the cul-de-sac, and like the liquid fuel tankers, parked well away from the houses.

  They began running out of space to park semi trailers, and the shelter was full, as well. That was about the time that they began to meet with resistance on their salvage trips. Determined to fill the community center before they gave up the salvage operation, the team continued their task, but began to be much more careful.

  The original team of Hank, Henry, Pete, Bren, and Juan became the scouts and guards for the others that now drove the vehicles and loaded up the goods the team found. Finally, with Hank shot in the right leg, and Juan with a bullet crease just above his right ear, the cul-de-sac and the area just outside of it closed ranks and prepared for the worst.

  It was Bernie that came up with the idea to provide better protection to those outside the cul-de-sac and the bulging community center. “I drove heavy equipment summers to work my way through college,” she told Hank when she mentioned her idea and he doubted the group’s ability to do it.

  So, after Bernice showed Juan, who already had some experience, and Henry, who was eager to learn, especially from Bernie, how to handle some of the key pieces of equipment, they went and ‘borrowed’ from the contractor that was doing some highway re-construction just five miles from the development.

  Juan, who had used a backhoe before, drove a large excavator to the cul-de-sac and began to dig a shallow trench where Bernie indicated. Henry was moving all the dump trailers from the construction project over and parking them in the trench, separated by about three feet. The bottoms of the trailers were just at ground level.

  After moving a front end loader, Henry began to take the dirt from the windrow Juan was making with the excavator and filled in the trench, putting the remaining dirt in the emplaced trailers. With the row of trailers in position, Juan began digging a trench a few feet away from the trailers, on the outward side. All that dirt went into the trailers. Each trailer full of dirt then had two or three fighting positions dug in and sand bagged.

  More sand-bagged positions were created in the area between each pair of trailers. A gap large enough to allow a wide vehicle through was left, and a heavy gate built and installed. The deep ditch outside the line of trailers would be the first line of defense, under the guns of those in the firing positions.

  If those attacking had adequate forces to get past the trailers, the next line of defense would be the cul-de-sac gate and wing walls. Non-combatants would take cover in the shelter.

  Hank, who had been a roving guard, mounted on a four-wheeler that one of the residents contributed, during the construction activities brought up emplacing a full-time guard at the wall. He or she would sound the alarm if anyone showed up.

  “That wall won’t do any good if people are allowed to just walk in before we know their intentions.”

  Between the original cul-de-sac residents, those outside the cul-de-sac that had joined up before the attack, and those that had been found and taken in after the attack, a guard force of eighteen men, women, and older teens was organized. There would be six four-hour shifts, round the clock, manning the gate.

  The ravines and heavy woods were considered safe enough during the day, as there was plenty of activity in the back yards of most of the hous
es, as people tended gardens and used outdoor grills for preparing food. Some families had decided to use outhouses and were constantly aware of what was going on in their small area of woods.

  The rest had chosen to continue using the chemical toilets from the shelter, plus extras brought from a camping supply store. When the defenses had been completed, Juan had dug a pit and installed a septic tank with drainage field, with the help of the others. The chemical toilets would be emptied into the community septic tank.

  Several people questioned all the extra work, and especially so many people going around armed. Their questions quickly faded away when three vehicles, two cars and a pickup truck, pulled to a stop at the outer gate. Elizabeth was on guard duty and sounded the alarm as soon as she saw the approach.