Righteous Bloodshed: Righteous Survival EMP Saga, Book 2

by Timothy Van Sickel

  As he turns onto his driveway he can hear their new dog, Sandy barking and growling loudly. It is the defensive bark of a big dog protecting his master, in the perceptive ways of a dog. The bark turns to the excited yelping of a dog knowing his master is home. John smiles, knowing that Jan has had Sandy by her side for the past twelve hours of confusion and anticipation. Jan nearly knocks John over as she runs out the front door, embracing him hard, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks; her husband has made the twenty-mile trek home! They whisper words of love, encouragement, fatigue and worry to each other as they enjoy the long embrace.

  "Lets get inside," John finally says,” It's not safe out here."

  * * *

  Once inside, Sandy gets her big licks in on John's face, then John quickly takes a few precautionary moves. He blows out all but two candles, lowers all the blinds and closes the drapes. Jan begins to get worried at John's hasty movements. "We don’t want people to be able to see in," John says in reply to her inquisitive looks.

  "This is it, isn't it? This is one of those things that you and Mark and Paul have talked about." States Jan angrily. Not angry at John, just angry at the situation.

  John takes off his small pack, places his sidearm on the table and sits heavily on the couch. He takes off his shoes, then peels off his socks. He stretches his legs and wiggles his toes, trying to pump the circulation to his almost numb feet.

  Jan sits in her favorite chair, on the edge, not laid back, anticipating what her husband has to say.

  "I killed a man today, Jan. He tried to rob me; he pointed a gun at me. I shot him."

  Jan leaps to her feet. "Oh my God John! Oh my God!" She begins pacing. "He pulled a gun on you, he tried to rob you? Did he shoot you? Are you alright?" She turns to her husband and sees the angst on his face, the inner pain of the moral dilemma. She calms herself, and sits next to him, puts her arm around him.

  Calmly, understanding that her husband is morally conflicted, she tries to console him. "I am sure what you did was right, sweetheart. Tell me what happened, it will be okay"

  Almost robotically John replays the day's events. From the computers crashing, the power going out at the office, to his long weary walk home. Then, methodically, as if he was on a witness stand, a witness stand before God, he describes the incident with the four thugs, all the thoughts that ran through his mind. Protecting himself was protecting his family, protecting Jan, protecting his neighbors. Allowing the thugs free reign would have put others in danger, including Jan and his neighbors. The Old Testament vs New Testament debate rages in his head as he tries to put into place his taking of the young man's life. David slew Goliath, which saved the lives of many men in both armies by taking the life of one. Yet the New Testament says to turn the other cheek, to love thy neighbor. Did he love his neighbors by keeping them safe from the thug he shot, or was the thug the neighbor who needed love? His mind still spinning around with these questions, his eyelids grow heavy and he falls asleep on the couch due to sheer exhaustion. Jan cuddles next to him, hoping to comfort him, and seeking the safety he provides.

  Chapter 4, Paul Hunkers Down

  Pittsburgh, PA

  September 12th

  The sun is fully up so Paul supposes it's about seven or later. His one working clock is in the living room, and he is in his garage on the back alley. He finishes inventorying his fortification supplies. The whole first floor can be sealed off with ¾" OSB, but he will need to be judicious on where he seals off the second floor. After a few final calculations, he decides he should go up and cook some breakfast.

  He thinks of what is in the fridge, not wanting to open it, knowing that it has already warmed too much. He decides cooking the ham and eggs are his most efficient use of foods available. He wonders if there is still pressure in the natural gas lines. A lighter to the burner gives a faint flame, barely flickering. He turns off the burner. He heads out to his gas bar-b-que and fires it up. He has a backup tank and two one hundred pound tanks in the garage, but those are to run his secondary heater.

  As he tries to quickly fry up the ham and eggs, he realizes how inefficient he is. He should have had the eggs beaten and everything ready to go before he lit to burner. That gas will be precious.

  He takes Eve's breakfast up to her. Ever the heavy sleeper, she wakes groggily, thanks Paul, and says she'll be down shortly. When he returns down stairs, he finds Georgeanne has fixed two plates and is heading up to feed Celeste. Paul smiles as she passes to head up to where Celeste is staying. Figuring everyone else has got what they wanted; Paul finishes off the eggs and ham.

  With a belly full of food, and a bit of quiet time, Paul starts thinking more seriously about what he needs to do. He knows the grid is down. He saw and heard the chaos start to erupt last night in the distant fires and gunshots. He knows that within a few days, anarchy, the fight to survive, will become a grim reality on his street too.

  Paul knew this was coming, along with his brothers, Mark and John, and a few of his friends. He is prepared, with a backup plan. In the basement of his large brick home is six months’ worth of ready to eat food for two people. He also has several dozen pieces of ¾ Inch OSB that he can to use to secure his windows and doors. The most ingenuous part of his plan, he thinks, is six forty-gallon garbage cans and the extra down spouting he has to divert his rain spouts into his basement so he can collect rainwater. Water will be more critical than food as disease breaks out from bad water.

  Paul plans to turn his house into a fortress. He has food; he can collect and contain rainwater. He has the supplies to fortify his home. If he can wait out the first two to six weeks of chaos, longer if needed, then he can think about heading to Central City, and the family safe haven. He begins hauling the first sheet of heavy OSB up to cover the side windows. The sheet is too big, so he hauls it back down the stairs and cuts it to size with a hand saw. Thirty minutes later he brings it back upstairs, and hammers it into place. He measures the next window and cuts the board in the basement before bringing it up.

  He is met at the top of the stairs by two angry women. The questions fly.

  "Why are you boarding up the windows?"

  "How am I going to get home?"

  "Are we going to be trapped in our own home?"

  "Are the cars running yet?" and the questions continue… "The stove doesn't work. How and I Going to make my tea." "How can I…."

  Paul decides to let the questions go unanswered. He just continues to haul his piece of wood to the side window so that he can nail it into place.

  Chapter 5, The Bounty

  The Farmstead, Central City. PA

  September 14th

  Four days after the EMP has knocked out almost everything electrical, violence has already broken out as local renegades try and capitalize on the situation. Despite the anarchy surrounding them, Mark Mays has managed to gather his nearby family at his remote farm in the mountains of western Pennsylvania.

  Over several years, Mark and his family, including his brothers Paul and John, have turned the old one hundred and fifty acre farmstead into a safe haven. They have food storage, weaponry, electronics protected in a faraday cage, and some working vehicles and farm equipment.

  One of Mark's long time employees, Herc, has lead a group of local veterans and civilians to Mark's farm, to deliver a grim message from a group of drug dealers, and anarchists.

  * * *

  "A bounty on my head?" I say to retired First Sergeant John Fisher, commonly referred to as 'Top'. "For killin' the drug lord's two sons. Huh, I guess that would piss him off. This is not good, Top, not good at all… a bounty on my head threatens my family, threatens my homestead here." I stop and ponder for a bit in silence. "You think maybe I should turn myself into these guys, maybe negotiate somethin', to spare my family?"

  "Wouldn't matter, Mark, they have declared war on your entire family. For that matter, they have declared war on the entire countryside. He has declared himself the king of the area, demands tribute
and ransom from all the towns and farms. He's been ransacking farms, and has most of the roads tied up so that no one can go anywhere unless they're in a large armed convoy. This guy is evil Mark, he needs to be dealt with."

  "Chief Speigle, from Hooversville, he said he was going to go up and set this Wagerlys guy straight. Have you heard from him?" I ask.

  "Chief Speigle is dead. We found out this morning. They delivered this note with his dismembered body after blowing up a roadblock outside of Hooversville." He hands me the note:

  "I am king now. Do not send your heroes after me. This will be their fate. As king, I will demand tribute, be prepared to pay heavily. You and your rules mocked me and jailed me, now is my time. There are no more rules, I will make my own rules. This man killed my nephew. Your people killed two of my sons. I will exact revenge. There will be no tribute for those who killed my sons. Their fate, and those that help them, is death."

  "Chief Speigle and a dozen men and women rolled up on his compound yesterday morning, only to be cut down by heavy fire. By all accounts, Frank Wagerly has an M60, and a lot of other military grade weapons and explosives. This is serious Mark, that's why I came out here to tell you myself. I served three tours in the dessert. Trust me when I say bad news is heading your way. This guy Wagerly, he's gunning for you, he is evil."

  The evening thunderstorm that had raged as our visitors arrived has played out. My family has set out food and drink for the First Sergeant's companions. Up to this point, I have not let him past the porch of the old farmhouse. We have to be wary of everyone, but I make a decision, I will take First Sergeant John Fisher, into my trust. The good Lord brought this man here, and he has not come in malice.

  I have my son-in-law, Ken clear the living room of people so that discussions can be held in confidence. I also ensure, that Grace, Ken's son, is monitoring the security camera system in the new house, and that Janie, Rusty and Logan maintain a vigilant watch from the farmhouse porch. I tell Ken that I want him to join me and the First Sergeant when he has finished making everything secure.

  I bring John into the living room of the old farmhouse and beckon him to sit on the couch in front of a large sturdy coffee table. On the coffee table is a large monitor. On the monitor is displayed a live scene of the two men John left at the entrance to the farmstead. The scene switches to the front of the farmstead where the rest of John's men are enjoying the food we set out for them. The monitor flicks to several other scenes, some showing pastures with farm animals, some showing remote areas around the farm.

  John watches this display for several minutes silently. I sit quietly, watching John's reaction to the display. "Command 3, this is Slave 1, switch to 3 and hold." I say out loud. The scene switches and holds. "Switch to 5 command 3." The scene switches immediately. "Zoom please, command 3." The scene zooms in on the county road that runs past the lane to the farmstead, clearly showing the road a quarter of a mile away from the camera.

  First Sergeant John Fisher, Retired, 1st Calvary, well decorated from tours in Iraq and Afghanistan sits back and smiles as he looks at me. "This is good shit for normal times! With everything electrical blown up, how the hell do you pull this off? Your man Herc said you knew we were here, you sure did!"

  "Faraday cage, Top. A building built to protect all the electronics inside it, but it doesn't matter how. I wanted to let you see a bit of what we got here. I want to be your ally. I want you to know we are not defenseless; we're not some rubes who just got lucky killing those murderers on the highway the other day. But we can't hold up against an M60 or military grade explosives. So what do you know about these methheads other than the fact that they shot Ken's boy, and a bunch of other people? What are you proposing we do about this chaos they have started?"

  John looks at me, and with military bearing begins. "The leader is Frank Wagerly, he's a local supplier of meth and heroin. He has at least fifty people at his compound, and it seems more are showing up there every day. He has food, drugs and booze so the bad elements are flocking to him. They have at least a half dozen working farm trucks and a few older cars. They also have several street bikes and some off road bikes. They have killed over fifty people that we know of, mainly remote farmers, like yourselves, and stragglers on the road. They have also killed some in town through raids on the roadblocks. The Hooversville area has been hit worse. We also know they have been terrorizing the Flight 93 stragglers. My guess is they have killed several hundred people already. Two of their crew, a young man and woman, turned themselves in yesterday, and we got a lot of good information from them. But, I guess you were there when that happened.

  "I've volunteered to establish a local militia so we can begin to fight back. Jerry, who went with you to Johnstown to help get your family, has taken charge of the roadblocks. He was in the Persian Gulf in 92; he is a good man for the job. To help matters out, there are a lot of young vets in the area, as well as some Vietnam vets and plenty of locals with good rifle and hunting skills. This Wagerly guy has had a few days to reign his of terror. Many of these young vets; they are combat hardened men and women; they didn't fight for this country in the dessert so that a drug dealer could terrorize their families and neighbors back home. We just need to get organized."

  I ponder the information that he has volunteered, which is a lot. He has taken me into his trust too, which is more important than the information. No working relationship can survive without mutual respect and trust. "You know there are short term problems and there are long term problems, John. The Wagerlys are a short-term problem. The long-term problems are going to be even bigger. Food in the cities is going to run out, probably already has. We are going to start seeing people from Johnstown heading into the countryside. Some hoping to shoot game, live off the land, some expecting that the farms will have food. People from Pittsburgh, and even the east coast cities, will do the same. Medicine will run out too, problems that four days ago could be handled quickly at a hospital will blow up into major issues. A lot of people won’t even make it to winter. More won't make it through winter. Do you understand the societal change that is coming? The entire country is going to be flipped back to an agrarian society. And during the time it takes to start producing sustainable food, things will get very bad.

  "The big mechanized poultry and pork farms are shut down. The modern combines of the farm belt are idled. Heck, some local dairy farmers are already offering up their cows for food because they can't milk 'em and feed 'em! The few farms that may have older working equipment, how will they get the crops, the wheat, corn, milk and meat, to the major cities? How will they turn wheat into bread? How will they keep meat with no refrigeration? How will the food be processed, canned and shipped? John, society will collapse, and its small farms like this one, spread across the country, that will feed those who survive. You have a much bigger task before you than dealing with some renegades, John. Protecting this small mountain farming community is part of protecting what will allow the rebirth of this country, of civilized society."

  John and I lock eyes. His face is stern. He says nothing.

  "I am a Christian man John. God put us all here for a reason, I firmly believe that. I judge you as a man of conviction. I felt you should look at this in a true light. Defeating the Wagerlys, and the chaos they are causing is a short term problem, but if we are to get through this, we need to be thinking of the long term."

  Chapter 6, John Arrives

  The Farmstead, Central City, PA

  September 15th

  Becca is shaking me awake. It is pitch dark outside. A small battery powered led light gives a bit of illumination to the room. I feel like I have barely fallen asleep; the previous days of tension, activity and stress are wearing my body down. Still, Becca shakes me urgently. "Wha…, umph, what? Wha…?" I mumble. I roll over and pull a pillow over my head. I am starting to wake, and Becca continues to shake me shouting at me to get up. Then I hear the bell ringing in the distance. I leap out of bed, fumbling for some trousers and
a shirt.

  "Go, Mark. Go, the bell is ringing. Go. We may be under attack! It just started ringing a minute ago! You have to go now! I'll wake the others! Oh dear God, please be with us!" Becca is frantic, knowing the threat against us, and the barbaric acts of the renegades that we have heard of.

  I grab my AR15 and makeshift combat vest as I run barefoot up the gravel road to the old farmhouse. It is pitch black, the clouds from the earlier storm blotting out all light. I stumble over a dip in the road, but I carry on towards the farmhouse from memory and a faint glow I see escaping the rear windows. The bell continues to ring. I press on urgently.

  Less than a minute after leaving the main house I enter the farmhouse through the back door, shouting my entrance as I burst in. I hear the crunching of gravel behind me and turn to see Herc in the dim light, with his 30/30 in hand, his pump shot gun slung over his bare back. I put my hand up for him to stop, and motion for silence. He stops at the bottom of the stairs catching his breath. I holler in the door again, "Friendlies at your rear, and flanking around the house to the left, I'm coming in!" I holler. I motion for Herc to go around the side of the house. He nods and heads around to the left of the house.

  I come into the living room where the slave monitor for the cameras is set up. Brit is there.

  "This shit is bad General. We heard a lot of shooting about an hour ago, off to the west. It was not close, but there was a lot of gunshots, that got me alert. Now we got two people with bicycles coming down the county road with a big ass dog. They are armed, but they seem to know where they're going. They are pedaling as fast as they can, and waving a white flag." She turns to me, a bit perplexed and a bit miffed. "This world is too crazy for me. You look at this! Is this an ambush, a Trojan horse?"