Righteous Bloodshed: Righteous Survival EMP Saga, Book 2

by Timothy Van Sickel

  I look at the screen but can only make out two distant green grainy figures. No one is in the main house to zoom the camera for us. This is odd. "Where is Janie and the kids?"

  "Janie, Rusty and Blake are upstairs in their 'battle positions' General! And Grace is with the young ones in the back bedroom." She says disdainfully. "You take over this shit, I can't deal with this. My husband and son are out on the front porch ready to fight off the Huns! This ain't real." She stands in a huff and stomps into the kitchen. I sit quietly and peer at the scene on the monitor. It is eerie. Two people, armed, riding bicycles as hard and fast as they can, carrying back packs, both bikes heavily loaded with pack saddles. As they come closer into view, I see one bike has a trailer. These people are serious about moving prepared.

  Brit comes back out of the kitchen with two steaming cups, she hands me one, hot tea. "Move over General, I may be pissed off, but I ain't leavin' my men out there without me watchin' out for them." She nudges me out of the way.

  She has on a wireless headset. "Ken, Mark is here, and from what he hollered, we got good guys on the left side of the house. Tell Larson to quit on the bell; the whole county is up now. The folks on the road are still headin' this way, but they seem harmless, other than it is four in the morning!" I grab a wireless mic and do a quick com check.

  "Janie, the young ones are with Grace in the back room right?" I hear a crackle through the wireless, as Janie responds affirmatively. "You and your boys stay alert. If these bike people continue past our lane, all should be good, but we'll stay on alert. If they turn down our lane, be ready for anything. Ain't no meth heads gonna take us down!"

  "I think we have this covered General," Brit says a little indignantly. "Go check on things you stupid ass, make sure we're ready if something bad happens. That's your job! Right?"

  I jump up and head upstairs first, thinking that Brit is way more attuned to what is happening than me. She is pissed off about the world crashing down around her, and will let anyone know, including me. But she is a grizzly momma, standing tall to protect her family. Upstairs, I find Janie, Rusty and Blake all hunkered down behind the sand bag positions we made over the past few days. Grace is with the three young ones, asleep in the rear bedroom.

  I head out onto the front porch after a brief glimpse at the monitor showing steady progress from the biking duo. Ben has the scoped 30.06 to his shoulder, looking down range, scouting side to side, an AR15 is lying next to him. Larson has another 30.06 trained down the country lane with a 12.ga pump lying next to him. Seems the news from the day before has all the members of my family being alert and armed. I let them all know that Herc is off to their left. I am not sure exactly where, but he has got that flank covered.

  I go back into the farmhouse to find Linc, Kim and Becca all there with Brit, watching the two bike riders come into view on the monitor.

  It is good that they all rallied here, but bad that we really don’t have a plan yet, they all should be back at the main house, in case we need to fall back. A mental note to fix this is made.

  "Linc, Kim, Becca, we got this covered up here, we need you all back at the main house. Linc, get on the main camera server, and pick up a wireless mic. Becca and Kim, just be ready, Okay?" With some protest, they head back down to the main house.

  I turn back to the monitor to see the weary bicyclers turn down our lane pedaling as fast as their spent bodies allow. The view on the monitor is bad, maybe water on the lens from the big storm. "Brit," I holler, "Give a heads up to everyone that these two midnight travelers just turned down our lane."

  "No shit general, 'this compound is on high alert'," she says loudly into the mic. "Intruders have turned onto our lane!"

  We have no view of the intruders from the time they leave the county road until they crest the hill on the lane leading to the old farmhouse. It will be several minutes until they come into view of the camera on the front porch. The whole situation is unnerving. Lots of gun fire to our west an hour ago, now these two bicyclers are deliberately heading towards our farmstead; but they seem harmless. Yet we know the Wagerlys are specifically gunning for us, so we are on high alert for anything odd. This could be some kind of Trojan horse, as Britt suggested.

  "Brit, run through all the cameras, let's make sure we don’t have any other visitors."

  "Did that twice already General, I don’t want a sneak attack any more than you do. I'll run through them again, but there is nothing out there." She switches the views to the other remote cameras, and they all show no signs of activity.

  "This is not an attack, these people are coming here for a reason, someone sent them. They are on a mission. Tell everyone to be alert but to stand down."

  "What does that mean General? Stand down, but be on alert! You need to get this drill figured out General, I ain't been here but two days and I could poke holes through this here system you put in place."

  I finally start to realize that the liability that I thought Brit could be, because of her bitterness and resentment, is really an asset. She is smart, well thought out and very organized. With two kids, and many nieces and nephews, she is motivated.

  "Okay Colonel, call it as you see it, but let's give these two the benefit of doubt. They are coming here for a reason, with a white flag. Let's see what they want before we just shoot them, okay?"

  "I don’t want to shoot them either General! But we need to be ready to shoot them, or whoever may be with them. So I'm a Colonel now…huh…"

  Brit barks some commands through the wireless mics and gets her people in a ready position as we wait for the couple to come into view again. I sit beside her, anxious and curious.

  It's 4:15 AM, pitch black, and two armed strangers are approaching our front gate. A half dozen armed men and women, secure behind their sand bagged positions, have high-powered rifles aimed at the intruders, and the nearby fields. The camera system and wireless mics, protected by our Faraday cage, have provided us a step-by-step view of the intruders. Despite all that has happened, I feel a sense of confidence that we are as ready as we can be.

  "Something's happening on the county road General." Brit says. "Looks like two motor bikes, moving slow," she says with grit in her voice. "This could be a Trojan horse."

  I look at the dark green screen, and make out two motorbikes zigzagging up the road, barely making headway, like they are searching for something.

  The two other intruders crest the hill on our driveway. The bikers on the county road stop, about fifty yards short of the driveway to our farmstead, directly across from our neighbor’s empty house. They wait a minute; a truck rolls up quickly to join them. We can see the dim glow of a second truck holding back a few hundred yards.

  Brit is flashing the screen shot from the scene in front of our neighbors house to the screen shot of the two people riding frantically down our lane, now only a hundred yards from our road block. She is barking updates to Janie and Ken on the wireless mics. I am trying to processes all that is going on. I don't like what I see one bit.

  Brit puts up the screen of the two people madly pedaling down our lane. They are haggard looking, feet dragging, struggling to continue moving forward. One of them looks up and forward, the cam catches a good front view of his face. It's John! And Jan! Oh shit, there is a posse of meth heads behind them!

  "Brit, that's my brother in the lane!" I grab my AR and rush out to meet them, hollering back to Brit, "That's trouble out on the county road. Be ready for anything."

  As I rush past our homemade barricade at the front of the property, I hear the staccato sound of semi-automatic gunfire ring out on the county road, only a few hundred yards away.

  Chapter 7, Paul Hunkered Down

  Pittsburgh, PA

  September 15th

  Four days after the grid has gone down, Paul wonders if his plan to hole up, wait out the chaos, is going to work. He has all the first floor windows boarded up. All the second floor windows over the porch roofs are boarded up too. He has curtained off
all the windows in the rooms they are using; but what little light that is generated from their LED battery lights can still be seen from the street in the pitch blackness of this world without lights. He has run out of duct tape trying to seal off any light that may seep through. He does not want anyone to know they are there. He has already seen roving packs of scavengers raid his neighbors. He cannot let that happen to his house. He has even intentionally broken windows to make it look like his house has already been scavenged.

  He is not worried about food. He has a supply of emergency rations he bought off the Internet. Water will not be a problem, his down spout storage system in the basement has already collected plenty of water. The water will need purified for drinking, but they have water. They have water to flush the toilet and wash up, that is, until the sewer system stops working and backs up. He has other emergency supplies stocked up, like the LED lights, and spare batteries, some medical supplies, and a few guns and ammo to defend his home. But, what he has seen so far makes him wonder if they all can hole up there until spring, which is his plan.

  Tragedy and complications have already hit home. He didn’t think an EMP was in store, he figured social unrest or economic meltdown would occur. So when the lights went out, he was caught a bit off guard, and ended up with his aging mother-in-law and her nurse at their home. Celeste passed away due to her pace maker failing, and not having the proper facilities to take her to. This sent his wife, Eve into a tailspin. Georgeanne, Celeste's nurse is still with them, even after helping to bury Celeste in the back yard. But, she is clamoring for a way to get to her home in the North Hills. He has managed to convince them both that they need to keep a low profile, to not attract attention to themselves, then they may be okay. But Eve is still shell shocked from what has happened, and Georgeanne is still in disbelief, thinking the power will come back on or that the government will step up and fix everything.

  When they buried Celeste, a few neighbors came over; some helped, some watched. Some knew what was going on and asked too many questions for Paul's comfort. Some were like Georgeanne, and expected someone to fix everything.

  His socialite neighbors have run out of food now, after a few renegades passed through, taking anything they may have had. His neighbors have been knocking on his boarded up doors. He makes sure that they all remain quiet, that the pleas at the door go unanswered. He wants his neighbors to think they have left. He is torn by his own decision in this matter, but he cannot help a neighborhood of hundreds, neighbors who have scorned him for his beliefs, turned their back on him and Eve for not condoning their "lifestyles". His path has been set. They are going to hunker down for as long as possible, trying to remain unnoticed, until things settle down, maybe a few weeks, maybe until spring. Then they will make their way to Somerset, to the safe haven at the farmstead.

  * * *

  Shots ring out down the street. He hears screams and more shots. The screams stop. Horrified, Paul races upstairs, grabbing his 30.06 as he goes. He enters one of the dark rooms, making sure the door is fully shut behind him. He pulls the heavy curtain aside and peers down on the darkened street. The moon and starlight give him a bit of a view of the scene down the street as his eyes adjust to the darkness.

  There is a crowd of several dozen people on the lawn and porch of a house three doors down. Some of the people have flashlights, some have make shift torches. In the flickering light, he recognizes some of the crowd as his own neighbors. They are gesturing, shouting, an angry mob. He opens the window a crack to hear the commotion better.

  "They got food, those whores have food. That butch showed me their stock pile." Paul hears from a loud angry female voice.

  "You hear what Jean said honey pot, we know you got food in there. Open up deary, you got to share what you got, my kids can't go hungry." He hears from a squeaky voice.

  "We don’t mean no harm, but we all got to share, you got food, our kids are hungry. We're sorry bout Leena, she came out with a gun, we didn’t want her killed! You got to help us, maybe we can still help her!"

  "You killed my Leena!" A small wiry woman rushes out onto the porch and gunfire erupts. She fires fast and furious at the crowd on her porch and lawn. Paul sees at least five or six people go down before several shots return from the crowd on the lawn. The woman defending her home goes down, but she manages to fire off several more wild shots into the crowd that is scattering before her. A few more yell out in pain as the shots connect with the intruders. More shots come from the fleeing crowd aimed at the woman on the porch. The woman goes limp and her gun goes silent.

  Paul watches as many in the fleeing crowd stop as the shooting stops. He hears someone yell something about getting the food. He watches as a dozen people pour back over the dead and wounded as they head in through the open door, looking for food. Paul knows this couple. Paul knows they have some canned food, but not much, only what they can pickle and store from their backyard garden. His neighbors just killed for a couple dozen quart jars of canned garden goods. Paul lets the heavy curtain fall back into place and breathes rapidly, shaking at what he has just witnessed.

  How soon until they come storming his door? Did he show his storeroom to anyone? Did Eve? What will he do when the mob shows up on his porch? Paul tries to comprehend what he just saw. Quick footsteps, loud knocking on the door to the room he is in shakes him back to reality.

  "Paul! That was gunshots! Paul, what's going on?" He hears Eve ask from the hallway. Paul goes to the door and slips into the hallway where Eve and Georgeanne stand, faces pale in the dim light of an LED flashlight.

  "Turn off that flashlight!" Paul hisses. "Follow me, this is not good, but you have to see it." He leads them into the darkened room, and pulls the drape aside just a bit. The neighbors with their flashlight and torches can be clearly seen looting the house just down the street.

  "Oh my God!" exclaims Eve. Georgeanne just stares, mouth agape, as she watches people move in and out of the house, carrying anything they can, ignoring the dead and injured around them.

  "Someone said they had food in that house, so they raided it. Eve, you have to pull it together. We all have to pull it together. What happens when they show up on our porch? We have to figure this out. Georgeanne, we need to know where you stand, you have to stop thinking someone is going to fix this. We are on our own."

  Chapter 8, Marauders

  The Farmstead

  September 15th

  As I rush up the driveway, John and Jan are looking frantically behind them, at where the gunfire is closely ringing out. With no time for welcoming hugs, I grab them both by the hand and urge them to follow me into the cornfield, literally dragging them behind me, leaving their bikes by the side of the lane, their dog following us. We stumble through several rows of corn, and I pull them down to the ground.

  I hear Brit saying through the mic that the renegades are shooting up the house on the county road next to our lane. I break in over my mic to let everyone know we are in the cornfield to the right of the house, and ask for an update.

  "Nice of you to leave when the shit hits the fan General! We got four bikes and two trucks out on the road, maybe twelve to sixteen people. They was shooting up that house on the corner, but now they're just milling around. A few of them are looking at our lane,,,, those bastards! Don't you come down here!" she yells in the mic in anger.

  "Okay everyone" I say into my mic, trying to keep calm. "We have to be ready for these animals to come after us. I'm with my brother and his wife on the right side of the lane, about fifteen yards into the cornfield. Herc is off to the left somewhere. These are meth-heads out on the road, the ones who are causing the chaos. God help us. We have to defend our property."

  John and Jan are lying next to me, breathing heavily, gasping. "What the hell is going on Mark?" John pants.

  "We got some druggies been terrorizing the farms, this must be one of their crews. We have been okay till now. These guys are ruthless, they been killin' and plunderin' since all this
started. Get your weapons ready, we may be in for a fight."

  Brit comes in over the mic, "They are taking a big interest in our lane guys, they are gathered up and keep pointing down our way, now they are moving around, looks like they are getting ready to either move on or move our way…. Whoa, they are checking all their equipment and getting one of those bikers geared up!"

  I break in on the mic again, "Listen up everyone, it sounds like they are going to raid us. The first guy in will be a biker with a satchel charge. That's high explosives. We have to take him out before he gets to our roadblock. It's going to be a big boom. I am talking major explosion. The rest of their gang is going to come rushing in after they hear that satchel charge go off. So that entire group on the road is going to be charging in here." I take a deep breath. Ken and Herc have faced this, but now the rest of my family is going to see violence and death, be a part of violence and death.

  I try to think, is there a way around this? To avoid this? But no, there is not. To give in is to die. Once again, Old Testament and New Testament run through my head. If this is the "promised land" that God has blessed us with, then we must protect it. Many times God's people had to fight for and defend their land; this will be one more time that a righteous people will stand their ground. Or is this mans' flawed sense of self-preservation, where is God's love?

  "John, Jan, a motorcycle is going to crest that hill. We need to take him out before he gets to the farmstead, Okay? He'll be carrying a satchel charge that will blow our road block sky high," I say, thinking only of helping my family live through the coming battle.

  "We traveled a hundred miles to get here. I ain't lettin' no druggie bastards stop us when we're this close." John grimaces as he shoulders his rifle. I see Jan with a 12 Ga pump pointed through the cornstalks, fear in her eyes, determination in her posture.

  I hear Brit over the wireless say "here they come", and we hear the loud whine of a two-cycle dirt bike as it speeds up down the lane towards our farmstead.