Prepper's Crucible - Volume Six: The End

by Andrews, Bobby

  “I thought there was only one survivor from the group that started the attacks on the Mexican Army.”

  “No, two of us are left. But I am happy to let the world believe that it’s only one.” The men ordered yet another refill and sat silently sipping coffee again.

  “Only good thing you can say about that EMP was that those coffee chain stores never came back.”

  “I hated that coffee,” Horace replied.

  “People paid more for a cup of coffee than they did for a meal. Stupid.”

  “Well, I have enough to write the first article, so I’ll bring it by in the morning and hopefully Cory will be awake.”

  “He’ll be fine until later in the morning. That’s how it usually goes. We’re doing a road trip to the ranch tomorrow morning, and Cory wants you to go.”

  “I’d be honored,” Horace answered. “See you in the morning.”

  Horace showed up at the stroke of 08:00 the following morning, carrying a cup holder with three cups of coffee. He was surprised to see Cory dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, sitting in a wheel chair. Eric was wearing the same outfit but carrying a Glock in a holster on his hip, rather than the revolver he wore when they met. After handing out the cups, he sat in a corner on a hospital chair, drank his coffee, and watched the other two do the same.

  “We’re going to the ranch today to give you a look at the place and to let me say hello to my wife and kids,” Cory finally said, draining his cup and placing it on an end table. “Eric’s going to take you to the cave to see where we lived during the invasion. It should be a good day for your future writing.”

  “I brought a paper with the first article in it, and I think it is pretty good,” Horace replied, holding the paper out in one hand.

  “Already read it, and it’s a good start; but you’ll need to do more to get the movement for statehood going around the territory.”

  “I know. And I can.”

  “Good,” Cory replied. “It’s time to go.” As if on cue, two burley orderlies showed up, both dressed in white smocks, hooked his IV bag to the vertical bar on the wheel chair, and rolled him out of the room. Eric and Horace followed them to the elevator and they exited the building through the ER entrance. A waiting ambulance sat in the parking lot and Eric got into the front seat next to the driver as Horace watched Cory get loaded into the back of the vehicle. He sat in the back seat and twisted around to look at Cory, who sat backward in the ambulance.

  “Go north on Williamson Valley Road,” Eric said from the front. “I’ll tell you when to turn.” They wound through several turns on the trip and finally turned left onto the farm road that led to the ranch.

  “Take the next right,” Eric ordered. The driver complied, and they soon found themselves in a meadow that was surrounded by trees. The ranch was invisible from the main road, as it always had been. The house and barn were both in a state of bad repair, and the yard was overgrown with weeds.

  “Get me out of this thing,” Cory complained from the back of the ambulance. The driver and Eric walked to the back of the vehicle and lowered the wheelchair to the ground with Cory still in it. Eric pushed it toward a small cemetery on the west side of the house that was dotted with crosses. They stopped in front of the nearest grave and Eric placed a hand on the headstone.

  “This is where my brother lies. Justin died at the battle of Sedona,” he whispered. “God speed, brother.” Eric pushed Cory’s wheelchair to the next grave.

  “This is where Bud and Mary were buried,” Cory said. “They died in one of the first ambushes we did. They were killed trying to get away after the ambush.” Cory’s eyed welled up, but he fought it back with a visible effort, and Eric rolled the chair to the next grave. “The irony of our taking casualties from military weapons made in the United States, and sold to our then friend, Mexico, was not lost on any of us,” Cory continued. “The good news was we were pretty good at getting them back into American hands during the war.”

  “This is my father’s grave. He died of natural causes.” The headstone was worn and faded. Eric pushed the wheelchair again down the line of grave markers and stopped at the next one.

  “This is Ed and Ann,” Cory said. “They died in the assault on Prescott. Both of them fought until the end, but they both died at what turned out to be the end of the war. Senseless, really.” He again rolled the wheelchair over to the next grave that was Cory’s family plot.

  “I have to get up for this one,” Cory said. He struggled to get out of the wheelchair and stood on wobbly legs. He lurched over to the gravesite, supported by Eric, and placed a hand on the tallest gravestone for support. “Julie, I’m coming to be with you soon. Tell the kids I said hello.” Tears leaked from his eyes and then he added, “I don’t know why God took you all from me and left me to rot on this planet, but I know we’ll be together again and we’ll pick up where we left off – man and wife, joined forever.” Cory stepped to Kate’s grave, caressed the headstone briefly, and sighed. He staggered back to the wheel chair, sat down wearily, and seemed to go into a coma.

  “Is he going to be all right?” Horace asked.

  “No,” Eric replied, “but take this.” He pulled an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to Horace.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a notarized letter of instruction that Cory be buried here, next to his wife. He wrote it himself, in his own hand.”

  “Why me? I don’t even know the man that well.”

  “Because some fool politician will try to make hay of his death and have him buried at Arlington, or one of the state’s cemeteries, and he doesn’t want that. You have the power of the pen, and now you have a legal document. Do what you have to, but make sure his wishes are carried out.”

  “Why don’t you do it?”

  “I will try. But if it comes to it, you can stop anyone, including the existing governor, with an article and copy of that document.”

  Horace thought for a minute. “I’ll do it. It’s the least I can do.” The two men stood in silence, watching Cory sleep, and then Eric spoke.

  “I have to show you Don and Kate’s grave before we leave. That’s what Cory wanted. The two men walked to the end of the grave markers and Eric said, “that’s Don’s grave, and Kate is buried next to him in the closer one.”

  “So, the empty space between Cory’s wife and Kate must be for Cory.”

  “Seems so.”

  “What happened to Tim and Cory’s sister?”

  “They moved back to Phoenix after the war and Tim practiced medicine there for years. They both died about eight years ago.”

  Horace walked back to Don’s headstone, thought for a minute, and then said, “this man remains a mystery to me. He seemed to be the glue that held the group together at the beginning, yet we know so little about him.”

  “I knew him from when I was growing up. Our ranch was over there.” Eric pointed to a set of buildings around a mile away. “He and my dad use to hunt together. But he was just another guy to me. There didn’t seem to be anything special about him.”

  “Are we going to the cave now?”

  “I suppose we should. We’ve come this far.” Eric walked over to where the driver stood next to the ambulance and said, “keep an eye on Cory. We’ll be back soon.” The driver nodded.

  “All right. We can walk to it from here,” Cory said to Horace, and then he turned and began walking briskly toward the mountains that loomed over the ranch. Horace marveled at the man’s pace. He had to be approaching seventy years of age, but moved as though he were a young man. After a fifteen-minute walk, Cory stopped to let Horace catch his breath, and they both turned to examine the valley floor that lay below. It was a crisp day, and the sky was a brilliant shade of blue.

  “I can’t help thinking that I’ve seen this view a thousand times and it still fills me with wonder. I was born to live in the forest, but didn’t know it until Cory showed it to me from his perspective.”

  “Was that duri
ng the war?”

  “No, it was after. When he disappeared, we used to hunt and fish here. He usually lived in the cave we’re going to visit, but we also got together at Kate’s place when he came out of the forest for supplies. We’d share a dinner and spend the night once a month or so. I lived at our ranch, so Kate would call me on the radio and I would go over and spend the night in the bunkhouse. Cory moved to the home right after she died four years ago.”

  “What did she die from?”

  “Old age. Her heart gave out.” Eric thought for a moment, then added, “what you said earlier about Don being the glue isn’t quite right. According to Cory, Don kept everyone alive, but Kate was the glue. She was a mother figure to everyone else and the peacekeeper in the group.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but did Cory and Kate love each other?”

  “Absolutely. We all loved each other.”

  “I mean as a lover?”

  “I knew what you meant the first time; I just wanted to see if you would ask the question. I’d advise against asking Cory that question, but between you and me, it’s definitely a possibility.” Eric turned and again started up the mountain. After another fifteen minutes of walking, they arrived at the base of the hill where the cave was located. They climbed up the steep incline and entered the cavern though the almost-invisible mouth of the cave. Stopping for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim light, Eric then moved farther into the cave.

  “My God, this looks like a garbage dump,” Horace said. He was right. The cave was littered with food wrappers, cigarette butts, discarded camping gear, and empty water bottles.

  “It’s still used by the younger members of the militia. Most of them are in their sixties now and are still active. They come here to hunt and overnight in the cave. For the most part, they don’t tell anyone where it is, because they want to use it themselves.”

  “So this is where it all started?”

  “Yes, this was the original location of our group. We started our ambushes from here. Later, it became the headquarters for the militia. When those numbers got too large, it was converted to a weapons and ammo depot. We stored everything we looted from the Mexican Army here.”

  “And this is where Cory spent all those years he was missing?”

  “For the most part, but he took weeks-long hikes through the forest, too. This was the place where he stored supplies. He came back here when he ran low on food and water. There’s a spring behind the cave that is so clean you don’t have to filter or boil the water.”

  “This place should be a shrine, not a trash dump.”

  “People still use it, and Cory doesn’t need or want a shrine.”

  The two men moved back to the cave’s entrance, stopped to admire the view for a moment, and then started down the hill. The walk back to the ranch was considerably easier than the climb and Horace found himself enjoying the trip back. When they arrived, Cory was again awake. The driver and Eric loaded him back into the ambulance. Cory motioned for Horace to join him in the back of the vehicle. Horace took a seat on a bench that ran the length of the vehicle and waited for the governor to speak. After a long silence, Cory looked at him.

  “You ever hear of the book Rules for Ranging?”

  “No.”

  “It was written in 1757 by Major Robert Rogers. He was an officer in the French and Indian Wars. He created a mobile, well-trained force that was capable of living off the land indefinitely. The Rules was intended to serve as a manual for his men. He personally selected 600 soldiers to serve with him during the wars. He blended Native American tactics and his own combat techniques. His tactics were considered revolutionary by the standing military at the time.” Cory paused and then added, “those rules are still used to this day. Each candidate for the U.S. Army Ranger School is given a copy of that book. It’s amended now, and shorter, but it’s still in use.”

  “Why do you bring this up?”

  “Because I used that book to wage the war against the Mexicans. I found it in Don’s library at the ranch and adopted all his techniques during the war. It was required reading for every unit leader. We only had the one copy, so it took some time, but it was the basis of everything we did.”

  “The books about the war all describe you as a military genius.”

  Cory barked a short laugh and replied, “I didn’t think of anything new. I just followed Roger’s Rules and hoped for the best. Tell you the truth, I had no idea what I was doing most of the time, but I couldn’t let the men know that.”

  “That’s hard to believe.”

  “A lot of things are.” Cory paused and turned to look out the window. When he turned back and faced Horace, his expression was one of determination and his eyes glowed with intensity. “I want to talk to you about the next article you write.”

  “Yes.”

  “You have to tell the people that I support statehood. They need to know that the person who sponsored the law now thinks it needs to be overturned and we should rejoin the Union.”

  “If the word gets out you’re talking to me, the entire world is going to come here to try to interview you.”

  “Small price to pay.” They rode back to the home in silence, with Cory gazing out the window until he again fell asleep.

  Horace walked back to the office, crossing the square and then climbing uphill past the Hassayampa Hotel. He entered the newspaper building, walked to his office, and sat down at his desk. His fingers hovered over the keyboard to his computer as he attempted to organize his thoughts. After a moment, his fingers assumed a life of their own and the headline appeared on the screen. It read, “Former War Hero and Governor Breaks Twenty-Year Silence.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  EMP PLUS FIVE MONTHS

  PRESCOTT NATIONAL FOREST

  Cory stood in the clearing waiting for other groups of fighters to join him. His group had spent the previous two weeks stapling notices to trees along the trails. The notices asked anyone living in the forest to meet at the meadow where he stood, at this date and time, to organize a resistance movement. He stood with his AR slung from his shoulder, muzzle down. It had been a desperate gamble to post those notices, but he had little choice. Since the Mexican Army no longer patrolled the forest, the risk was acceptable. After a few minutes of waiting, four men entered the meadow, with three of them carrying rifles aimed directly at him. The fourth man did a slow circle around the clearing and then stood in front of Cory.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked. Cory examined the man carefully. He was of average height, but whippet slender, and his beard was a wild creation that seemed to grow in every direction.

  “Just what the notice said. We want to hurt the Mexicans so bad they go home. We’re all nipping at their heels, but I want to bite their head off. So do the rest of my group.”

  “How in the hell are we going to do that?”

  “We’re going to get organized and take the fight to them. We take over some smaller towns around Prescott and hold them as long as we can. We make them fight street-to-street, and bleed them for every inch of territory they take back from us. Before that, we head down to the area around the town and ambush convoys until we all have fully automatic weapons, .50 machine guns, and grenades. We take what we need from them to fight against them.”

  “That’s a pretty ambitious plan.”

  “I have seven fighters in my group and we already have M-16s and hand grenades. We can do it, but we gotta get organized so they can’t pick us apart one at a time.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Cory,” he replied, extending a hand.

  “Mine’s Caleb.”

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  The two men shook hands. Caleb examined Cory for a moment, then said, “you don’t look crazy, so I’ll hear you out.”

  Another group of six entered the clearing and approached Cory, then a group of four, followed by four more. Soon, eighty men and women stood in the clearing, all armed. They began m
illing around, shaking hands and introducing themselves. Finally, Cory cleared his throat and said, “I’m with the group that posted the notices, and I want to say a few words if you don’t mind.” Everyone fell silent as Cory continued. “I’ve lost a wife and two kids to the Mexicans.” He stopped for a moment, cleared his throat, and continued. “I’m guessing everyone here has lost someone. But it’s time we stand up and take the fight to them. I’m tired of hiding in the forest and waiting for them to show up. It’s pretty clear to me that we need to get organized and go after them.”

  “How the hell are we supposed to do that?”

  “As I was telling Caleb,” Cory said, pointing to his new friend, “we ambush convoys and take the weapons we need to stand and fight. Then we take over some small towns and force the Mexicans into street fights, bleed them dry, and disappear into the forest when we can’t hold on any longer.”

  “That’s crazy,” a tall woman said as she approached him. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun and her brown eyes stared at him with a startling intensity.

  “The men that founded this country were all considered crazy,” Cory replied calmly.

  “What? You think you’re George Washington?”

  “No, but I bet there is a Washington out there somewhere, and I can run things while we wait for him to show up.” The woman stared at him, noting his calm expression and relaxed demeanor.

  “Okay. I’m listening.”

  “I want to call a meeting for tomorrow at the same time and place. We need to have one leader from each group attend. We won’t get anything done with this many people and we are creating a target-rich environment for the Mexicans. Will each group appoint someone to attend the meeting tomorrow?” Several heads nodded. Cory added, “if you can do it now, we can at least meet each other. The rest of you should get out of the meadow and find concealment for the next few minutes.”

  The groups all huddled, talked, and then seven men and the tall woman walked to where Cory stood. They all introduced themselves and Cory closed the meeting by saying, “I’m going to bring eight M-16s here tomorrow so each unit has one fully automatic weapon.” The leaders looked at him in amazement and then silently disappeared into the forest.