Against the Storm: A Fortress Farm Novel

by G. R. Carter

  Alex blinked with surprise, at once recognizing a face from his youth. The man in front of him was older now than Alex remembered, but the sky-blue eyes brought back the first time he actually sat and spoke with someone from the Amish community face to face. “Mr. Schrock, of course I remember you. I’m glad to see you again, sir. I’m not sure how long it’s been,” Alex replied truthfully.

  “Too long, but you English are always a busy lot,” he said with a chuckle and sincere smile.

  “That’s a compliment coming from your folk. Without your help in teaching us how to really farm again, not just tell a computer how to do it, we would have never made it through the Reset,” Alex said. His father had come to know Amish folks living in the north part of Okaw territory long before the Reset. Hardworking and ingenious, their community had successfully survived both the technological explosion that left them behind and the fallout when that same world collapsed. Through the recent difficulties all the Amish, along with their Mennonite cousins, had banded together and tried their best to revive and maintain their traditions.

  “Maybe we showed the way a little,” Elmer replied with sincere modesty. “Were it not for yer father’s Deputies them Ditcher demons would’ve had their way with we plain folk.”

  “You’re too modest, sir. We act as one in the country, with the Grace of God,” Alex replied, crossing himself instinctively.

  Elmer just nodded in agreement. Immediately after the Reset, the Okaw and then the Republic’s Deputies shielded Amish farmers and craftsmen to safeguard the pacifists and to preserve their knowledge of working without modern biotech and tools. Like a living library, the religious sect maintained techniques used by humans for hundreds of generations. Tech-worshiping pre-Reset societies had turned their back on for the soil and tasks done by hand, preferring automation and ease. The Amish had changed only slightly in the past two centuries, allowing more commerce with the outsiders they called “the English.” Since the lights went out they had saved thousands of lives with their knowledge.

  “Mr. Schrock, I’m truly grateful for everything you’ve done for the Republic. I apologize I’m not more up to speed on the disposition of your community. You’re not squeaky wheels, so I don’t bother you. I do know you’ve been a blessing to people all over the area,” Alex said. Confusion still lined his face. “But sir, this horse idea of Lori’s is beyond my grasp,” he said to the man, and then to his sister who had just entered the room behind him.

  “Listen, you’ve been a blessing to us, Founder Hamilton. We know what’s lurkin’ outside the horizon of this Republic you all put together. We Amish don’t fight, ‘gainst our religion ya know. But we know you do fight, and that’s why wit’ the Grace of God we’re still able to live.”

  Alex simply nodded his head. Amish believed in taking the peaceful road, regardless of outcome. The same argument was occasionally passed around the leadership of the Unified Church: when do we turn the other cheek and when do we fight? The question certainly hadn’t been settled, but for now they would fight whatever evil they faced and hope the Creator would understand.

  The Bishop continued. “Now listen here. We Amish know how to make a crop running ole equipment, yah? And we know how to use horses, too. What we propose is that we help train yuns deputies to use horses to ride the countryside, keepin’ da demons out. That way you can use all yuns vehicles and fuel where the rest of the idol worshipers are trying to get into our land, yah?”

  Alex considered the way his elder presented the idea. He heard Celeste say the same thing, but to Schrock made her plan clearer now.

  “How will you farm if you loan us your horses?” Alex asked.

  “We Amish can compromise a little,” he said. “I’ve been praying 'bout it a lot. We’re going to allow tractors 'cross our lands. So if’n you English can spare some workers to help us get our crops in and harvested, we can certainly spare the horses.”

  All the “English” in the room exchanged glances. Forsaking modern tools such as diesel tractors was a key pillar of Amish faith. Alex recognized the tremendous compromise he was making.

  Schrock sensed the doubt hanging in the room. “I got one more thing, Founder Hamilton. My young men 'er wantin’ to join your SDC. Ya know I can’t let them fight, yah? That crosses too many lines, even for me. But I will let them ride along with the Deputies, patrolin’ against the demons. Could be scouts even, ridin’ on their own. No weapons, mind ya, but they can be along to tend to the horses. Even good riders don’t know how to keep hoofs healthy without a lifetime of learning.”

  Alex dipped his head in respect. “Sir, I can’t explain how much we appreciate the sacrifices you’re willing to make. I’m forever in your debt.”

  “Ahh,” Schrock said with a playful wave of his hand. “We loved your father, Founder Hamilton. We love you, too. We know you got a good heart, for bein’ English and all. Just don’t ever ask us to hang the Green and Silver, yah?” He turned and gave a wink to Bishop Hart. “We got to hold on to da Faith. Now if I can be excused, we’ve got some roundin’ up of people an' horses to get at.”

  Lori escorted the man out and then returned to the room where her brother waited with Celeste.

  “This world surprises me more every day,” Alex admitted. “When I woke up this morning I did not anticipate having our own version of the Texas Rangers roaming the Okaw.”

  “Or roaming the Shawnee, or America, or even Riveoria territory. We’ve got so much ground to cover now,” Lori said. “There were thousands of horses out there for recreational use before the Reset. Even assuming most were eaten by something or someone in the months after, there must be more surviving in the wildlands. I’m not saying it will be next month, but I’m guessing within five years we’ll be able to have mounted patrols in every remote corner of the Republic. The mounted scouts can find the Ditchmen, and then armed deputies can stamp them out.”

  “Good idea, ladies. Just the kind of thinking we need,” Alex said. The thought of how to present this to the Land Lords and the leaders of the other provinces formulated in his mind. “At least we’ll have something positive to talk about when I let everyone know their fuel and ammunition allowances are about to be cut. Tough way to start a meeting.”

  Alex limped over and stared out the large windows overlooking the crowds gathered for the annual Founder’s Day celebration. People from all over the Republic made the trip; at least those who could afford to get away for a couple of days. Difficult travel meant that most here were from the Okaw or Old Main, the original two partners in the Republic. But a few straggled in from the provinces once making up New America. The people there were assimilating quickly, a paradox that Alex and his wife Rebekah marveled at whenever the conversation came up. Just a few years before, America had been a mortal enemy of the Republic – now they seemed to be more loyal than those who had been with them from the start.

  His mother in law had explained the concept as an expert in social studies would, but Julia Ruff’s intellect and education exceeded Alex’s patience for comprehending it. All he knew was that one of his best friends and most trusted colleagues was helping the provinces there. He missed having Martin Fredericks’ advice to lean on daily. But the benefit of having his most capable military officer on the contested border with the Northern Caliphate helped him sleep at night.

  Alex watched barbecue smoke rise up from tents arrayed in a midway arrangement, and a few costumed characters entertained the crowds below. Another row of tents formed up behind the carnival, each with a separate flag fluttering above. On Bek’s suggestion they made sure every province in the Republic, along with every ally, had a place for citizens to visit and learn more about their neighbors.

  Some had joked about a chamber of commerce meeting being held, but it was much more than that. It was an effort to ensure each person saw themselves as a part of something bigger. Little communication was available in a world of no telephone and no internet. A remote Fortress Farm or another town once access
ible in minutes now could take days to reach. The Republic relied heavily on symbolism and the Unified Church to bind everyone together, no matter where they lived. That was if they could get everyone to agree that working together really was the goal.

  Regional rivalries were already flaring up. The Hamilton and Ruff families had made it their mission to be allies with any civilized group they came in contact with. Republic aid via Quarterbushels and food supplies served as an investment in the long term future of their own people, not just a bribe. But Alex and Bek knew some nations had bigger plans; including partners with them from the early days, right after the Great Reset shut down the electronic world.

  The thought turned his gaze to the group that concerned him most. A black banner with a white lambda in the middle waved on the tallest pole in the entire row of diplomatic tents. Tony Diamante was nearly as close to Alex as his brother Sam or Martin. Tony’s Peacekeeper forces had even saved his life, and the Republic’s capital city, in the attack that damaged so much of his body. In turn, the Republic had made available a steady stream of biofuel and food to the mostly urban society that had no idea how to feed itself after the government rations they captured ran out. The Republic Archives, essentially a post-Reset Library of Congress, gave Nicole Diamante and ARK’s engineers the plans they needed to create miracles of their own. Theirs was a perfect partnership, the urban society with the last known functioning computer on the planet, and the rural resource powerhouse able to feed not only their own people but everyone else’s as well.

  But more than just the weather was chilled these days. For the first time ever, neither Tony nor Nicole made the 120 mile trip to celebrate Founder’s Day with the Hamiltons. Alex understood the reasons. Even with their own personal airship, the Diamantes were always busy somewhere. Still, the relationship just wasn’t as close as before.

  “Quarter for your thoughts?” Celeste asked.

  “Just wondering if ARK had enough of everything? They haven’t purchased fuel or food off of us in a while. How are they making it?”

  “Maybe Paul can answer that?” Celeste said.

  Alex was embarrassed, forgetting Paul was still in the room. He turned to address his old friend. “Right. Paul, do you know?”

  “Nicole says their facilities are barely keeping up. That’s one of my primary responsibilities, to increase production I mean. Remember, they operate in tighter areas than we…you do. And they don’t subsidize places like Mt. Horab,” Kelley replied.

  Alex noticed the specific reference and thought it over for a few moments, then smiled as brightly as he could at everyone in the room. “Would you all please excuse us? I have a few things I need to address, and I’m sure you all have better things to do than sit and watch me think.”

  Nervous chuckles, the kind underlings give to patronize their superiors, rippled through the room. A wave of commotion followed as chairs slid and papers rustled as each person not related to the family in some way quickly left.

  “I’m sorry, Paul,” Alex said. “I need to speak with my sisters about a few things. Would you mind?”

  Paul’s face looked hurt and surprised, then glanced over at Bishop Hart who clearly wasn’t leaving. Then the realization set in. He was officially out of Alex’s inner circle. Without a word, he simply nodded, gathered his things and left the room, leaving Alex with Lori, Celeste and Bishop Hart.

  Without being prodded, Celeste began the conversation. “You think they’re getting fuel from Little Egypt?”

  “It’s Grand Shawnee now,” Alex corrected with a smirk.

  “Whatever,” she replied testily. “You think Eric’s selling them fuel on the side from the oil fields down there?”

  “Possibly. Though I think we’d see it. How would they get it across the river without going over the bridges? Each truck has to be checked in and out over the border.”

  Celeste thought for a moment, pulling up maps in her mind. “Pipeline Bridge at Grand Tower,” she said. “It’s not used for traffic, it’s literally just a pipeline over the river. Used to carry natural gas all the way from Texas to Chicago in the old days. I suppose they could be pumping through that.”

  “Would Eric do that to us?” Lori asked about her ex-fiancé. “He’s a lot of things, but I don’t think he’s a thief.”

  “It wouldn’t technically be stealing. I gave him free reign to build that province up. And he’s certainly done that. Definitely bad faith not to tell us though,” Alex said.

  “Just the sort of thing Maryanne and her creepy cadre would pull,” Celeste said with clear distaste. Neither of the Olsens were here this week themselves, instead sending Marcus Nielsen and Louis Renaldo to represent the province. The Hamiltons had briefly exchanged greetings with the two, but that was it.

  “I bet Eric doesn’t even know. But I suppose that would explain how they’ve gained so much wealth so quickly,” Lori said.

  “So ARK makes a special deal with Maryanne to get fuel. Why cut us out of the information loop? I would have approved it anyway,” Alex asked.

  “Probably because you agreed to help Mt. Horab,” Bishop Hart offered.

  “Do they really hate them that much?” Lori asked.

  “Bek said the ARK Peacekeepers wouldn’t even speak to anyone during the last academy session at Old Main. Especially the Buckles. That was the last class ARK is sending over, their officers won’t train here anymore,” Alex said. “All they did was joke about owning the rivers.”

  “And you can’t own the rivers without owning all the cities along the river banks. Well, Essie Hamilton isn’t going to agree to that, is she?” Celeste laughed. Essie was engaged to a member of Mt. Horab’s ruling council, a fervent adherent to the Unified Church, and no fan of ARK’s.

  Alex shook his head with a grin. “She’s just like Sam. An idealist and a pilot through and through. You did your job on that one, Bishop.”

  “I didn’t convert, I merely channeled what was already there,” Hart laughed. “Now, if we could have the same outcome with our efforts in ARK and Vincennes that would be a true miracle.”

  The smile left Alex’s face. He looked back out the window, trying to picture the wheels within wheels that made life and death struggles grind. His mind was still famous for understanding strategy, even if his body was broken. “Something else is at work here,” he said to no one in particular. “There’s definitely someone…some force we can’t recognize that doesn’t want the same things we want.”

  Chapter Two

  Renaissance Tower

  Downtown ARK City

  Premier Tony Diamante’s Office

  Year 12.08 A.G.R. (After the Great Reset)

  Tony loved the City. His City. Standing in his glass enclosed office, looking out at the Arch gleaming in the glow of the Solar Storms, he felt the energy. ARK City’s predecessor had once been the Gateway to the West, the capital of the United States’ frontier. At her peak, St. Louis rivaled the great cities of the world in commerce and strategic importance. What then served as the world’s greatest commercial highway flowed just past the City’s landmark monument; a river once connecting-now dividing-an entire continent.

  The half-century before man’s hubris failed and the lights went out across the world had been tough on his city. Failures of leadership and shifts in demographics left the once proud launchpad of western expansion teetering on the brink of collapse. The Diamantes and a few others had adapted and still retained fabulous wealth with diversified businesses, but everyone knew time was running out; a long, slow decline would continue just as it had for so many Midwestern cities built around industry.

  The Reset was the coup de grace for most populated areas of the world; cities new and old fell to the chaos of electronic junkies cut off from their drug of choice. Only strategic planning, quick action, and willingness to make tough decisions had allowed the Diamantes to save the part of St. Louis that really mattered, the bones of what was now the creature known as ARK. This was his City. He saved it,
built it, loved it and cared for it—his City.

  ARK was expanding. Twelve years after the Reset, the population of approximately 11,000 people he had saved from certain death had swelled into the hundreds of thousands, probably over a million by now. Humans turned out to be a resilient species, and even losing nine out of every ten to starvation, disease and violence left a lot of survivors in densely populated countries like the old United States. The question was what type of person would survive; would they be productive contributors, or savages tormented by what they had done to survive the dying days?

  ARK’s experience found both. Tony’s Peacekeeper forces found pockets of civilization everywhere they went, people who had banded together to try and save what they could, to protect their children and whatever future might be made in the ruins. There were numerous small towns west of ARK, spreading out to the nearly infinite horizon of North America. The little oases held on, knowing the clock was ticking as they ran out of scavenged food and took crash courses in life skills on a scale large enough to provide enough calories for their communities.

  Likewise, the ammunition so critical for self-defense and hunting didn’t last long. This was rural country, better suited to stockpiles of weapons than nearly anywhere on the continent. But what had seemed like large stores of supplies before were consumed quickly in an effort to fend off mobs of starving and desperate people fleeing the cities. Those able to hold out against the onslaught then faced the dilemma of using the rest of their ammunition to hunt for any animals they could to build a food bridge between the immediate needs of survival and the time when communities could once again produce what they needed.

  Most of these communities regarded ARK Peacekeepers as saviors when their jeeps rolled into town. With plenty of food supplies gained by their relationship with their Republic allies, ARK used rations to gain the trust and loyalty of normally suspicious survivors. An offer of ARK Citizenship to community leaders helped populations acquiesce to new loyalties; most grasped their current plights were desperate anyway—what was there to lose? Those new Citizens were offered the opportunity to visit ARK, a chance to see a functioning city with running water, secure streets and even the steady glow of bountiful electricity coming from river turbines. They were given a tour of Renaissance Tower, the capital building of ARK and home to the only known functioning computer in world. After months of struggle just to survive in the most basic terms, the city of ARK’s shining white towers looked like Valhalla itself. A renewed and reenergized band of converts then returned to their towns, determined to make a name for themselves and perhaps even secure their own residence in one of the City Center towers someday.