Ash: Rise of the Republic

by Campbell Paul Young

  “We live down the road, we thought there might be some kind of government presence here at the plant.” I kept my hands visible and spoke in a calm voice. “We’re set up pretty well up there, we thought we might be able to help out. This is my wife, Deb, my neighbor, Mike, and a kid we’ve been caring for, Robert.” Deb and Mike waved politely, Werner scowled. “We brought some food and water if you need it. Are you a cop? We haven’t seen any law enforcement since this started.”

  The man visibly relaxed, clearly surprised to meet someone who wasn’t trying to kill him.

  “No, I’m plant security. There’s a Sheriff’s Deputy here, but he was shot in the neck two days ago, I don’t think he’s gonna make it. From what I’ve heard, all the cops are tied up dealing with looters in town. It’s bad there, people are dying. The roads are all bogged down with this shit, and most of the manpower is either out of commission or deserted. City services have pretty much been suspended: no ambulances, no fire department, no cops.

  “We figure we’ll keep the lights on as long as we can, but that might not be much longer. There’s a big band of looters that’s been rolling through here. Bunch of scumbags, they burned my house down. They went through a bunch of places and took everything, including the people. They’re holed up in a big house a couple miles north. They’ve come up to the gate a couple times. My buddy up there killed two of them the second time they came around. He’s a hell of a shot.

  “There’s not much left to take around here.” He waved at the small cluster of houses we had driven through. “It’s only a matter of time before they come back, but I think we can handle em. They really beefed up plant security after 9-11; all that federal money bought us some pretty nice toys.” He hefted his rifle.

  “Yeah, we saw some of their work. Is there anything we can do to help? Most of us are handy with a rifle, although we didn’t bring much ammo.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t let you in. You seem like nice folks but I don’t really know you, I hope you understand. This place is too important. Honestly you folks ought to head back home and fortify. Those assholes could just as easily come after you. It looks like you plowed a path straight to your door too.” He pointed at the trench we had carved with the bulldozer.

  A knot developed in my throat when he pointed this out. I thought about all those kicked in doors and bullet holes. Our little community would be a prime target for a strong group of looters. I hoped it wasn’t already too late.

  “You’re right.” I threw the truck into reverse. “We’d better head back. Here is my cell number if the phones ever start working again. We’ll leave this food with you, I’m sure you could use it. If you ever need anything, we’re just down the road.” I gave him directions to the neighborhood and backed up to the second truck to fill the others in.

  We headed back the way we came, not bothering to investigate any more houses. Glancing in the rearview, I noticed the Werner kid suddenly had a strange smile on his face.

  When we returned, we called an emergency meeting. We decided to set up watch posts on the roofs of several houses. One post would be on top of a tall house at highest point in the neighborhood. Two sentries would be there at all times. From there they would have a commanding view of the surrounding countryside as well as a long stretch of both highways. Every third house on the outer ring also got a watch post. They would be manned at night or on days with low visibility so we could detect intrusion at any point on the perimeter. The construction crew began adding jagged scrap metal and broken glass to the top of the perimeter wall to deter climbers, and a series of trip wires and tin can rattles were set up in the yaupon thickets to warn us of infiltration there. Several car horns were removed and set up at the watch posts so that they could raise an alarm if anyone approached.

  We also established a rapid response force. Every household was required to have at least one member armed and ready to assemble at all times. If an alarm was raised, those who were on duty would drop everything and meet at the source of the issue.

  Our preparations made, we nervously returned to our projects. Thankfully, no looters appeared to probe the defenses. There were a few false alarms when edgy sentries saw phantom enemies in the swirling ash, but no real threats emerged.

  Two days after we returned from the expedition, I awoke to a scream of despair. I grabbed my pistol, sprinted into the living room, and skidded to a halt at the edge of a pool of blood. Deb was kneeling next to Tracy’s limp body, desperately prodding her neck for a pulse and sobbing uncontrollably. The poor girl was face down, there was no sign of life.

  “Robert’s gone,” Deb said coldly, turning to face me, “He did this, he must have!”

  Knowing it was true, I ran out the front door. My truck was gone. A trail of small footprints led through the newly fallen ash to where it had been parked. I ran over to our car, pulled the door open, and hammered out three long blasts on the horn, paused, and delivered three more.

  Within minutes, four of our neighbors were rushing toward my driveway, armed to the teeth. I quickly explained the situation to them. They were headed up the hill to check with the gate guards by the time the rest of the neighborhood showed up. I sent Mrs. Borger in to see if she could do anything for the poor girl in my living room, and went with Mike and several others to pursue the little bastard.

  Halfway to the gate we met the first responders in front of the meeting house. They gestured us inside. Poor Maddie Cartwright, our supply manager, was lying on her back, a small hunting knife lodged in the roof of her mouth. I found a blanket and draped it over her.

  “There’s food and ammo missing out here” said Mike, coming in from the garage, “We’d better check on the gate guards. I hope it’s not more of the same.”

  ****

  Robert Werner killed four of our people that morning. He was only a twelve year old boy, but he killed them all, stole a vehicle, and made off with a month’s provisions in less than an hour. He nearly tore our community apart in the process. Fingers were pointed, accusations were leveled. In a week of searching we never found him. He got away clean.

  In the end he did us a favor. He woke us up. That kid finally made us realize that the world had ended; that no one was going to play by the rules anymore; that there weren’t even any rules to play by.

  Chapter 4

  May, 31 PC (2046 AD)

  *

  “The strength of the early Republic lay in its fuel supply. Any threat to its production or transport was necessarily met with savage and immediate force. The Republic kept only a small standing army, but its citizens could be called out for militia service on a day’s notice.”

  -Daniel Galloway, ‘Risen From The Ash: A History of the Republic’; RNT University Press, 50 PC (2065 AD);

  *

  After a night of restless sleep in the dank sewer, Captain McLellan rose an hour before dawn and made his way back out through the storm drain. He sat quietly in the thick brush until pale morning light began to filter through the sodden clouds to the east. By the time he crawled back into the cramped chamber where his rangers were beginning to stir, he had made his decision. He gently roused his two scouts and sent them out to locate the enemy.

  “We’re going to cut the patrol short,” The troop yawned and rubbed sleep from their eyes. “We’re low on rations, low on manpower, and afoot. We’re in no shape to bring the fight to that army back there.” He raised his hand to ward off the grumbling. “We’ll make a beeline for the Refinery. It’s only two days away if we leave the highway and head cross country. I want everyone geared up and ready to move by the time Stone and Blue get back.”

  The rangers were sullen as they broke camp. The thought of running from a fight, especially from the savages who had killed their friends, left them irritated and ashamed. They craved vengeance, but they trusted their Captain implicitly. By the time the scouts crawled through the entrance the rangers had shaken off the disappointment were packed and ready.

  “
Looks like they called off the search once it got dark last night, set up camp near the warehouse. Must have just got back from a big raid, there’s empty liquor bottles and food thrown all over. Big party I guess. Most of ‘em are still snoring,” Stone helped himself to a long drink from Legs’ canteen as he made his report.

  “If we leave now we’ll have at least a half day’s lead on them. They don’t look like they’re in too much of a hurry,” added Blue.

  “I guess we’d better get moving.”

  “Wait, Cap’n, there’s more: I have a present for you!” Blue winked and gestured at the tunnel.

  The troop followed the scouts out through the drain. The Captain chuckled when he saw Blue’s present. A filthy, bearded man, his homespun clothes ragged and stained with ash, was tied to a tree and gagged. Blood trickled from a huge knot on his forehead. There was terror in his bloodshot eyes.

  “He walked over to piss on the bush I was hiding in, I couldn’t resist!” A proud smile stretched across Blue’s round youthful face.

  The Captain gestured for Grumps and Mason to go to work on the man. He didn’t hold out long. After the second punch he started talking. When he had spilled everything, Deb pulled out her rope. Ten minutes later, the rangers were pulling on their packs.

  “Well let’s move out, we’ll need as much of a head start as we can get,” ordered the Captain. The troop headed Southeast through the trees. Their prisoner still twitched on his rope, swaying slowly in the light breeze.

  They spent the next two days trudging through the repetitive wasteland that made up what used to be the suburbs of Houston. Each subdivision they passed through was eerily the same as the one before. The fractal, winding artery roads with their cul-de-sac tributaries were lined with poorly built houses, each a variation on one of five or six floorplans. Before the pillar, each of them had been a pretentious, overpriced, upper-middle class home with two cars in the driveway and a jungle-gym in the backyard. Now all that showed above the thick layer of ash were weather beaten roofs and battered second stories. Many had collapsed over the years, plenty had burned.

  There were no people. The small percentage of the population who still stubbornly clung to life had moved into more stable structures. Big multi-story office buildings were best. Any structure built with strong materials and competent engineering would do. A few of the big skyscrapers downtown now held fairly prosperous communes. McLelland had accompanied a diplomatic mission to the largest of them soon after the refinery was finished. They had since become one of the Republic’s most profitable trade partners and a powerful ally.

  Though the ash covered much of the area’s former prosperity, the landscape was not devoid of life. For the past several years, the winters had been getting milder and the summers warmer. The scientists at the University claimed that the clouds were thinning, though no one could tell the difference. The cloud cover seemed as thick and gloomy as ever, but surprisingly, plants had begun to grow in the wild again. Big trees had yet to make a comeback, but the more industrious and hardy strains of weeds and bushes were abundant. These were especially thick along the banks of the new watercourses which had sprung up.

  Years of development had sequestered and redirected the streams and rivers of the area into concrete channels and drainage ditches between the neighborhoods. Thirty years of ash had filled the manmade channels thoroughly, and no one was around to maintain them. When the rains came, water had to go somewhere. In many cases the former roads were the natural choice, being largely free of obstructions and often the lowest point in any given area. The new rivers and streams had not been mapped yet, though there was some talk at the University of arranging an expedition to do so. The Captain imagined that the maps that would result would resemble to a large extent the road map he carried in his pack.

  There was also animal life present. Birds, small mammals, and insects were nearly as abundant as they had been in his youth, although the variety had suffered. Most large mammals had died off years ago for want of fodder, but plenty of enterprising little species had found ways to scratch a living out of the dusty ash. Rodents were especially successful of course. Of particular concern to the rangers were feral dogs. The abundance of small mammals and birds were their normal prey, but a big pack of the howling beasts would have no problem taking down something larger. There were even rumors of deadly wildcats that prowled the ruined neighborhoods, ambushing unwary looters and adventurers.

  The rangers were wary as they moved through the desolate region. The scouts abandoned their usual roaming tactics and stayed close to avoid becoming dogmeat. The packs of mangy canines they glimsed flitting between the rooftops were reason enough for caution, but their main concern was more deadly. Unpopulated ruins like these were hotbeds of outlaw activity.

  In hushed voices, the Captain and his wife told the tale of a dangerous bandit named Black Tooth they had once chased through the maze of rooftops and creeks. He and his band had been raiding and murdering homesteaders and settlements in the area for years. The Rangers had finally caught their trail one winter and had tracked them for a week. They pinned the outlaws near an old retail center one evening and a fierce firefight ensued. Black Tooth himself was killed, but despite the Rangers' best efforts the remaining bandits slipped away in the night, disappearing into the suburban labyrinth. The Captain chased them for a few more days, but the bandits knew the terrain better than he. They ambushed and harassed his party relentlessly. The damage they inflicted was mostly psychological. Many of the veteran rangers were still shaking when they finally abandoned the search.. They never caught up to them. For all the Captain knew, they were still nearby, waiting to spring the trap that would bring them vengeance for their fallen leader.

  The end of the second day brought them to a new landscape. Decaying rooftops and winding suburban roads gave way to orderly industrial parks. Abandoned factories and machine shops were interspersed with storage depots and railways.

  There were people here. Several of the big warehouses had been transformed into huge greenhouses which fed the growing community around the Refinery. Each indoor farm they passed produced throngs of burbling children, eager to meet the exciting strangers. The farmers and their wives greeted them with warm smiles and pressed bundles of fresh vegetables and baked goods into their grateful hands.

  At each stop, the Captain inspected the farms’ defenses. He was impressed. Several families lived and worked in each of the big greenhouses. They kept guards posted at all times; every member of each family who could hold a rifle steady could be called on in a moment’s notice to defend the settlement. The buildings themselves could be locked down in minutes, and the defenders could fight from the rooftop or the upper windows.

  The farmers and their wives were hardy, competant people; most had a story of hardship and triumph as long as the Captain’s. Few ranger patrols ever made it this far from Campus, and the Refinery usually had its hands full with guarding the fuel shipments. The tough farmers had no choice but to defend their homes with ferocity and skill.

  They spent the last night of their journey on the roof of some forgotten storage facility. Stretched out before them, as far as they could see, was a twisted savannah of steel and concrete. There were thickets of twisted metal, groves of distillation columns, and cooling towers vined with pipes and scaffolding. Vast tank farms lay between the copses of rusting metal trunks. Many of the squat cylinders were still filled with crude piped in from the oilfields or pumped from the holds of huge ships in the prosperous years before the pillar.

  The Captain gazed out over this cluttered vista and thought about the world they had lost. There was a time when this rusting maze of pipe and steel had churned out barrel after barrel of gasoline and diesel, LPG and fuel oil. A thousand different petrochemicals were distilled and seperated, catalysed and hydrocracked in the forest below. The country and much of the world relied on this region to produce all of the vital ingredients of industrial civilization. Now, all of that vast refini
ng capacity lay in disuse, slowly rusting. All but the one small plant he had helped bring back to life. A square mile of machinery, painstakingly scraped from the ash and cobbled back to life with cannabilized parts, sweat, and blood. A faint glow reflected from the bellies of the clouds to the east. It was a lonely beacon of progress; a reminder that civilization was not yet dead.

  ****

  The rangers were greeted with grim news at the gates of the Refinery. Two more shipments of fuel had been ambushed and destroyed, all hands brutally gunned down. The hardened colonists were in a fury. The families of the murdered crews pressed around the troop, hoping for news of vengeance against the outlaws who had torn their lives apart. The young rangers told of their ordeal, how they had found an army of bandits and burned their lair. Tears threatened as they described their fallen comrades and their hungry flight through the suburbs. When their tale was told, some of the women took pity on them and whisked them away to the bunkhouses for hot food and hot showers.

  The Captain and his wife set off on their own, heading to the large building in the center of the complex. As they approached, a tall, familiar figure rushed out, flanked by hulking armed men. A toothy, dimpled smile stretched across a handsome face framed by close cropped brown hair.

  "Mom, Dad!” He hugged his mother tightly. "It's good to see you! It's been too long."

  The Captain shook his hand. "It's good to see you too Brian. Any word from the Governor? I hear two more trucks were attacked."

  "Yes, I'll fill you in, but first let's get you fed, you both look like you could use it."

  "A hot shower first," replied Deb with a smile, "and a kiss from my grandbaby!"

  "She and Lucy are down at the bunkhouse, I'll take you over right now!"