Righteous Bloodshed: Righteous Survival EMP Saga, Book 2

by Timothy Van Sickel

  "Randy, I don’t even know your last name, what is it son?"

  "Hutchins, sir, Randy Hutchins."

  "Well, you are now Captain Randy Hutchins and you are my S3, in charge of operations. You have proved yourself twice out there son, we need your experience. You go nowhere without a guard, you hear me Rambo?"

  Captain Hutchins nods.

  "Lieutenant Anders, you are my S2. Along with communications comes intelligence. You got to tell me what's going on out there. Got it?" Lt Anders nods, a smile beaming to be in the leadership group.

  "So Jerry. That’s makes you my S1. Do I call you Captain Jerry or do you have a last name?

  "Devers, Sir."

  "Okay Captain Devers, You are in charge of man power, and road blocks. Let it be known, that members of the Laurel Highlands Militia will be fed, and so will their families. That should make your job easier."

  "Recruiting hasn't been too hard Mark, I mean General." Replies Cpt. Devers. "Most folks know we need to defend what we got."

  "Well, now we are going to fight for what is being taken outside our area, so recruiting could get harder. Captain Hutchins, tell everyone what you saw today."

  Captain Hutchins tells the story of their encounters that morning. Some faces show dismay that the entire community of Davidsville has been over run. The only good news is that Lt. Anders has started to receive messages back from the other towns on the CB radios. But, the news he is getting is not all good.

  "We got a lot of work in front of us men. Cpt. Devers, beef up our guard. Lt. Anders, let our friends out there know we will be coming to help, and gather any info you can. Cpt. Hutchins, we will be running a mission tomorrow, be ready. Col. Fisher, I have a bloody stump of a leg that needs tended to, you are in charge for now. We all will meet here at 6:00 tomorrow morning."

  I stand to salute my men, but stumble a bit, not yet used to having a stump leg. Col. Fisher reaches out and holds me up. He glances down and sees the small puddle of blood that has dripped from my bandaged leg. "I'll be okay Colonel. I just need to get off my feet for a while."

  Moments later, Becca at my side, we load into our van, and head back to the farmstead. Becca Hugs me and stares into my eyes. "What just happened there? What was that all about?"

  "I can't do it all, Honey," I reply. "So I delegated, military style. They're good men, they will get it done. Give people responsibility and they will respond, usually better than you expect. I trust those men, I have to. Now get us home, this stump is throbbing!"

  * * *

  We approach the house on the road that our group has occupied. In the dying light of the day, I see that a hidden roadblock system has been set up. No visible obstruction on the road. But, the road is covered heavily by hidden positions. Paul has been active!

  We turn onto our drive and arrive back at the main house a few minutes later. My bloody stump leaves a trail of blood splatters as I head back to the bedroom. Niki is scorning me for stressing the wound before I can even lay down.

  "Well get to fixing it. I know I shouldn't have stressed it, but I did. I did what I had to do." Niki flares off on a tirade about me taking care of the wound and staying off my feet as she cleans it up and puts on a new bandage. There is no way I am telling her that I have to go out again within twelve hours.

  A few minutes after Niki has finished and gone, Becca sticks her head in the door. "Someone wants to see you. You up for it?"

  Before I can answer, Paul opens the door wide and walks right in. "I don't need permission to talk with my little brother." As the light bears on the bed, he sees my newly bandaged stump leg and guffaws. He regains his composure as Becca comes in and sits next to me, offering me a two finger glass of cheap bourbon.

  "I was about to give you my assessment of what's going on, but you missing your leg caught me off guard." Paul's eyes well up a bit, "and John got killed. Nan too, it's too much. The battle scars on the homestead. They told me what has happened here, two full on battles. I thought it was bad in the city, how are you even still alive?"

  "Good question, same one I ask God every waking minute." I reply. "So what do you got going on? How's the property look to you?"

  "Phew, right to business huh. The property looks good considering what has happened. Losing the old farm house is a setback, and you have so many people here, even with taking the house out by the road, we are crowded."

  "Did Ken show you the problems he was having with the mini solar system?"

  "Yeah, I straightened that out. They have enough juice for minimal consumption, and more importantly it can run the well pump. I also set the security in a better position after talking with Daneel. That Grace kid, he has quite the head on his shoulders. He went over his command center set up with me. We have a few more cams to set up. Ken and I are going to do that tomorrow, covering the back side of the property."

  "You meet Britt too, I mean Col. Britt?"

  "Whoa! Yes indeed I met Britt. She has this place hopping. Cooking schedules, cleaning schedules, farming schedules, work details, she and Daneel worked out guard schedules. She's a gem, no small talk there, just down to business.

  "I talked with Janie a bit too. You need to talk with her. It's been ten days and she hasn't had any word from Scot or her parents. She is both melancholy and on edge. I don't know what you can do, but I hear you are the General of this mountain militia, so maybe you can find something out."

  "'Laurel Highlands' Militia." I correct Paul. "Scot's situation has been nagging at me too. Even more so with the reports we have gotten from Johnstown. It's turning into complete chaos. The Reserve and Guard units are no longer patrolling Rte. 219. I heard they have pulled back, trying to protect the airport. I don't know that for sure.

  "This is the real deal Paul, thank you so much for helping us get set up for it. I know we both hoped it would never happen, but it has. Now we have to figure out a way forward. Our farmstead can't last if everything else falls. That's why I have been working with the militia, the community, the farmers. Our only way out of this, is to think long term. You’re smart Paul, maybe the smartest man I know. Start thinking long term. Not just for our farm, for all of us, the community, the state, the nation. Hell, this is a complete reset for mankind as far as I know. How does humanity continue without falling into another Dark Ages? Think about that Paul, and think about what God would have us do. That has to be our guidepost.

  "Sorry to lay all that on you, but it has been on my mind for a while. I need some rest. We have a meeting at six AM. If you are rested enough, I would like you to come."

  He bends over and gives me big hug. "It so good to be here brother, we'll be okay, relax and rest."

  Chapter 29, Chaos

  Johnstown, PA

  September 23rd

  Food has become so scarce in Johnstown that people who thought they were going to be okay, now find their neighbors, friends, and even family members turning on them. Every store, gas station, and shop has been ransacked to the bare bones. A pack of crackers cannot be found without a fight.

  Those with any food left are being sniffed out, literally. Cooking anything emits aromas that waft through the neighborhood, bringing people to the house that has food. Sometimes it is shared, when it is not, it ends up being fought for, taken. Word of this has spread, and people with food crunch on cold ramen noodles or ladle soup right out of the can, unheated. Making a soup from a few scraps of chicken and the shards of noodles in the bottom of a drawer is a death sentence.

  Some of the gangs still have food, because they were the first to start looting, and they have been ruthless in finding and pillaging anyone else with food. But, even they are running low, and are now looking for a way to survive.

  Johnstown, a city of thirty thousand people, has been decimated. Half the population is dead or dying. Many have been killed in the fighting, first from random lawlessness, more recently in the fight over food. The war between Richland and Johnstown saw over one thousand people killed, over nothing. Rich
land had no more food than Johnstown did.

  A battle raged around the airport. The Reserves and National Guard lost that battle. They had weapons, but little ammunition, and the order to fire on civilians did not take well. Many lives were lost to overrun facilities that had already been stripped bare. The Reserve and Guard units who saw the writing on the wall, bailed out, taking what they could with them.

  More have died or are dying due to bad water and bad sanitary conditions. The water from the Stoneycreek River is impure to begin with. The sewage systems up stream are not working properly, the dead that have been buried too close to the water supply add to the fouling of the water. Dysentery and violent diarrhea are rampant, adding to the dehydration of those afflicted. The young, the old, and the sick succumb to illnesses that could have been cured. The lack of pharmaceuticals for the sick and elderly is starting to take its toll as well.

  The stench of death is pervasive. The dead are no longer being buried. At first there were burials. Now there are too many dead bodies, and nowhere to bury them. There had been funeral pyres, but those have mainly stopped too. It takes too much energy to find the fuel to burn the bodies. All energy now is conserved for finding food, surviving. The dead lay where they died or are piled in vacant lots.

  Hard choices face those still in the city. Stay with their loved ones, thereby facing starvation themselves for that decision. Struggle to take them with them, and endure the hardship that will cause. Or abandon them so that they might survive.

  Most stay, hoping things will somehow get better. Many bring their sick along with them as they make their decision to flee the chaos of the city. A few make the hard choice of leaving behind loved ones not able to flee.

  All of these starving people head for the countryside, hoping to find food. Finding food is the driving factor in every decision made. Aching bellies, move people to make decisions. Even the formerly obese do not have enough fat stored to keep their bodies going. The migration to the countryside is in full swing.

  Along the way, new alliances are formed. New clans are built. Hunger drives them. They all talk of a cow or pig on a spit. They have no idea of what they are doing. Not one of them has ever butchered a cow. Few of them even know how to start a fire, let alone make a cooking fire.

  But they move on, thousands of desperate people heading into the countryside. In some places they will be welcomed. In other places they will be rejected, turned away. Some will die along the way, some will just give up, some will be killed by their fellow travelers. All are driven by the desire to survive. The sad part of the situation is there is plenty of food. Yet people are dying or willing to kill for the lack of it.

  America produces enough food to feed its population of over three hundred million people. Enough food that we export our grain, rice and meat to other countries. But, it is all dependent upon an efficient system of delivery, processing and distribution. That system has been idled. The people in the cities starve, despite the abundance of food available in the country. In many cases the food needed is hundreds of miles away. In some cases it is only a few miles away.

  Compound the situation in Johnstown by a thousand and that is what is going on in the major cities. Those left alive after ten days will be heading out in the tens of thousands, overrunning the farms they come across. Like a plague of locust, they will rampage across the countryside. And they will find food, those smart enough and strong enough to make it. But what harm will be done to the production of food? Will the instinct to survive the day, kill the ability to survive in the long run? Will the pillaging of farms disrupt the nation's ability to feed itself? Will the knowledge of self-sufficiency be lost because of the immediate quest for food? Where does God, our almighty Father, fit into this equation?

  * * *

  "'Love thy neighbor as thy self', that's where God fits to this mess," I state unequivocally. Me, Becca, my brother Paul, Janie, Col. Fisher and Jerry are having an informal discussion on the front porch of the main house. Inside, a good breakfast of bacon and eggs with apple slices, no toast, is being prepared by the morning kitchen crew. Outside, the wind blows brisk and the clouds are gray and threatening a long soaking rain, hiding the early morning sun.

  "We can't keep everyone out and sit on what we have. Once these city marauders deplete the farms they have now, they'll move on, looking for more food. And trust me, that will come sooner than you think," I add.

  "But they have to be sitting on a year’s worth of food right now," Paul says. "What's the urgency? Why don't we hunker down and see what develops? From what I see, things are good around here."

  "Do you think they had people out milking the cows this morning? Do you think someone figured out the feed silos and fed the pigs? Do you think they have people cleaning the stalls, taking care of the chicks?" Asks Becca pointedly. "That's not happening and those animals will die."

  "Same with the crops," Jerry adds. "The corn needs brought in now, that’s a year of feed for the animals, same with potatoes, cabbages. And it all needs properly stored. They may gather what the need for today, but the rest will rot in the field. Mark is right, in two weeks those farms will be ruined, and those folks will be looking for more farms to pillage."

  "So we have to save those farms now. The longer we wait, the worse it will be. More people will die if we do not defend the farms." The reverend says remorsefully, knowing that people will die today, to save those still alive tomorrow.

  "Correct, reverend," I state. "The farms are the future. The Davidsville to Somerset corridor has the most productive farms in the area, better than we have around here. Those farms have to be free and productive. We have to figure out how to save those farms.

  "So I go back to 'Love thy neighbor'. We have to set up a system like we have here, work for room and board. At the same time we have to stop the marauders from taking any more farms. This is not going to be easy to set up, but we have to do it, and we have to do it now. Do we have the people to get it done? The will power to get it done?"

  "Um, I have a question," Janie says meekly. "Where are the Reserve and National Guard units?" Her voice gets stronger as she begins to talk about her husband. "My Zach is out there somewhere, and so are my parents. Zach said he would come here if it all went bad at his unit. It's been a few days since we heard the airport fell. That means Zach is out there, trying to get here. He may have plenty of good soldiers with him. Is there some way to try and make contact with him?"

  The room goes silent. Over the past few days, Janie has become more and more apprehensive about her husband, and so have Becca and I. We have prayed for him, leaving it in God's hands. But, if he is okay, he should be there by now.

  Col. Fisher breaks the silence. "She has a point. She and I have talked. Zach is a decorated E7 Iraq War veteran. He would have been in charge of at least thirty or forty people up at the airport. Surely he could have rallied enough people around him to try and make his way here. I have a plan to push a heavy patrol from here to the airport."

  All eyes turn to the Colonel.

  Then the bell at the new front gate begins to ring. Like on a battleship, people rush to their battle positions. Maraudering bands, some heavily armed, are known to be in the area.

  “We have a heavily armed patrol coming in from the east” Grace states over the com system.

  Chapter 30, Zach’ Story

  Murtha Airport, Johnstown, PA

  September 11th

  After leaving his wife at the main gate to their base, Zach White reports to his Executive Officer, a major. There are no other officers present, just another E-7 and two E-6's. "Gentlemen, America has been attacked, I am sure you have heard rumors of that already. I want to set that straight. From what we can tell, from the hardened radio systems in the tower, we have been hit with an EMP and ground level nukes too. Washington DC and the Pentagon are off the airwaves. We are getting instructions from Indian Town Gap.

  "Our first priority is to assist in moving the VIP's from the Flight 9
3 Memorial to here. That is already happening. Our second priority is to keep the airport secure so that the VIP's can be evacuated. Our third priority is to keep this airport open and secure for future use.

  "We have eight Apaches and eight Black Hawks in flight now. Sergeant Hopkins, you make sure we can refuel and service them, find hand pumps if you need to, but keep those birds flying.

  "Sergeant Johns, scour the motor pool for what works to pump fuel, assist Hopkins in any way you can. Sergeant White, Sergeant Holsinger, you are in charge of security. Block off Airport Road at both ends. No one comes, no one goes.

  "Let's do our job and get these VIP's out of here. Are there any questions?"

  "Major, there is no ammunition on base, how are we supposed to set roadblocks with empty riffles?" Zach asks pointedly.

  "I'm working on that. But let’s get the roadblocks set up. And I am not talking about a few wooden road barriers. I expect to see wood line to wood line covered by trucks, cars, infantry vehicles. Whatever you got."

  "How come Captain Marsh ain't here?" Asks Sgt. Johns.

  "Captain Marsh beat feet as soon as he heard what happened."

  "I got five kids, and you want me to stay here? While the Captain bugs out?" Zach interjects.

  "I am asking you to fulfill your oath." Responds the major.

  "What are we doing to bring in the rest of our unit?" Asks Sgt. Hopkins.

  "There were two old hummers in the 876th's motor pool still running. One of their lieutenants and an E7 have been given muster roles and are going out to see if they can bring people in. Hopefully others will report for duty on their own."

  Twenty minutes later Zach is drawing his M16A2 from the armory which is pointless, no ammunition is kept at the armories. Only three members of his own platoon work full time at the Vehicle Recovery Center, where they repair all types of vehicles coming back from overseas. He tries to make sense of what is going on, what he is going to do.