by D A Carey
“It doesn’t matter,” Bill said. “He won’t let you through. He’s promised the citizens and blocked so many of their friends and others. He can’t make an exception for you.”
“I don’t expect him to.” Greg grinned. “He has to be a man of his word or people won’t follow him. On the other hand, I do think he will want to read my note and hear what Levi there has to say.” Bill started to speak, but Greg held up his hand. “When the sheriff hears us out, you and he can make a big ‘to do’ about kicking us out of town and how the sheriff won’t change his rules for nobody.”
“Okay,” Bill said. “How does that help you all, though?”
“You need to make sure you’re the one in charge of kicking us out is all. Then you do it on the other side of town.”
Both men walked back to the blockade smiling.
“We need to escort these people to the sheriff,” Bill said officiously to the men working the blockade. “I know he will kick them right out of town, but the driver has a message from Eminence for the sheriff, and the passenger has a message from out of state.”
After some time in the courthouse and a very public display of being kicked out of town, they were once again headed north on Highway 55 headed toward Carrollton.
Shower and Food
“In prosperity our friends know us; in adversity we know our friends.”
- John Churton Collins
<< Vince >>
When they got to the center of the maze, Gus’s home and office building came into view. Vince recognized the structures immediately. The surroundings were much different than the last time he was there. Last time, he’d been able to drive right up to the office. The construction of this labyrinth encircling the kingdom of junk in such a short amount of time was no small feat.
The tilled garden beside the house had been there before. The smell of pigs may have been there before as well; he couldn’t be sure.
When they parked and exited the vehicles, Gus’s wife Mary was on the front porch to greet them with an offer of a shower and a meal, neither of which could be more appreciated.
“I’ve only got two spare rooms in the house. You women can take those, though you might have to share a bed or use a cot because we’re short on both. You men can bunk in the office building after dinner’s over.”
Dinner was simple and delicious. Mary made fried chicken and meatloaf, as well as green beans and mashed potatoes. She also made whole onions cooked in the stove the way Vince remembered Ellie loved, wrapped in tinfoil and baked until they were soft and eaten with a chunk of butter pushed into the middle. To the travelers, it was a feast. Gus was proud to admit that with the exception of the butter and meatloaf everything was raised inside what he called his fortress of junk. He even boasted that the meatloaf was ground deer meat mixed with regular hamburger to stretch the beef they had and make it taste more like ground beef.
The dinner conversation began with Vince’s exclamation on all the change accomplished in only a few short days. Gus responded by proudly describing how he, his sons, and a few other family members had been working like an ant colony to construct their bug-in location.
“Vince, when you came through last time, it didn’t seem like much yet because we’d mostly been working on the back forty. I knew things were getting worse in the country. If I was wrong, it might not have been good for business to cover the shop with my fortress of junk.”
“It sounds like you’ve been planning this a long time.”
“I guess. It’s more like a silly dream. The grownup version of a fort building,” Gus said modestly. “Many men look at the world and think ‘what if…’”
“That’s true.”
“Well, in my case I’m not a woodsman who can hide in a cabin and feed my family with my skills at hunting and gathering. I’m not the soldier you are that can save and protect people with those skills and strategy.”
“I didn’t save them all,” Vince said under his breath.
Gus kept talking, having not even heard Vince. “I’m not the visionary that your uncle is. He can build whole communities. I’m a simple man with my junk fortress in the country. I can make it not appear worth attacking for most of the crooks. For the few who do try me, I can make that attack so costly it’s not worth it.”
“I can see that,” Andy gushed.
“Even more than that, I have gardens, crops, and livestock. If this goes on, over time I may invite a few trusted families here to help man the walls and tend the crops. I even have plans for a church and a school if we need them.” Gus beamed with pride.
“You’d always be welcome at any of the charter towns. I know Uncle Dave would want me to try and convince you to come.”
“I know, and I thank you and him both for the offer. You have to understand that in my eyes, this place is equally as grand and strong as what you all have down in Carrollton. And because I’m hiding behind junk, I’m less of a target than you. Even more important is that I’m at home. My home!”
“Well, I know you know this: you need to make sure you don’t invite too many people or let yourself appear too comfortable. Then you might end up being a target for a bigger force than you’re prepared for,” Vince warned.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The dinner table got quiet, weighted by the heavy conversation. In an effort to lighten the mood, Liz jumped in. “How long have you been planning your fortress, Gus? It’s fabulous.”
“It’s been on my mind for years,” Gus said with pride.
“This has been mostly a fancy of mine until recently. All the prepping over the last few years gave me an excuse to do what I wanted to do anyway.”
“I’m glad you finally admitted that, old man,” Mary teased with mock severity.
Gus smiled, put his hand on top of hers on the table, and squeezed it. “When the prepping thing became more popular and the country got closer to some type of catastrophe, I got serious about creating my bug-in prep site here.”
“Bug in?” Liz queried.
“That’s when someone creates a defensible location at their own home with food and supplies for an extended period of time,” Kate explained. “Most people live too close to population centers for that to be practical, so they bug out to a safer, less populated place.”
“Why is it so important to get away from people?” Liz asked
“People are the most dangerous thing on this planet,” Vince stated. “We create most all the heartache and pain in this world. All of our issues are self-imposed. The high population density areas are the worst.”
“Why are the high-density areas the worst?”
“It’s hard to put into words,” Vince admitted. “People in the cities are like the cattle Gus has in pens out back. They’ve lost their ability to provide for themselves. They have very little knowledge of where things come from or how. They’ve lost their ethics and religion for the most part and have been taught to prey on each other.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Liz said
“For those people, their food is trucked in loaded with chemicals. Their information is controlled by political parties and only a few news sources. The financial system they are a part of is a sham to keep them under control and just prosperous enough to not fight back for change,” Vince explained, getting more passionate about the topic.
“People can’t be that naïve.”
“You’re right, all the people all the time are not that naïve,” Vince said. “It’s the people who control the food, information, and finances that have been practicing the art of manipulation on a grand scale for centuries. They know the art of mass psychology on a scale that rivals most paranoid conspiracy theorists’ thoughts. In this case, truth is stranger than fiction. They know that by belittling and encouraging the rejection of religion and ethics, the masses are more willing follow the program as long as they are given cell phones, cable TV, air conditioning, and other pleasures. When morality, ethics, and religion are strong, those th
ings don’t offer as much to people, and they are harder to control.”
“Surely people know that’s happening, if indeed it is,” Liz said skeptically.
“Thousands know, maybe even millions. Those people move to the country or practice prepping or unfiltered religion. The rest are content to accept a way of life that makes them easier to manipulate.”
“So are you saying all people in the cities are corrupt?”
“Not at all. I know a lot of great people who are very moral in the cities,” Vince countered. “It’s only that you have to be so much stronger ethically in the cities when you’re surrounded by the propaganda daily like water torture. Mass psychosis is much easier to control and plan in the cities because people feed off of each other. Food and news that has been corrupted to serve their needs and not ours is easier when you send it to a single location like a cattle pen. That’s why we gather cattle to feed them or give them medicine.
“When things get bad like now, and the food, fuel, and news stops flowing, those people will first scour the city and kill and ravage. You’ll have a lot of hungry, unethical people ready to lie, cheat, and kill for a can of beans. That means it’s not a safe place to bug in because the odds are so overwhelmingly stacked against you.”
Liz wasn’t convinced. “You make all cities sound like a Sodom and Gomorra hellhole.”
“Well you just fought your way out of Chicago,” Vince reminded her. “What do you think? I’m not saying it’s all bad all the time, but under these circumstances, perhaps you’re closer to the truth than you know.”
Vince glanced over and saw Malcolm staring down at his plate. Many of Vince’s points, although intended for Liz, hit home with Malcolm. “Malcolm down there at the end of the table is what’s good about the big cities,” Vince said.
Malcolm peered up at Vince questioningly.
“I am not backing away from what I just said. I still believe it to be true. However, keeping all that in mind, think about the inner strength of character and morality it takes to live your life and become the kind of man Malcolm is when surrounded by many who aren’t. Malcolm and Raheem were raised in similar circumstances in the same neighborhood, and they turned out totally different.”
“I did have my dad,” Malcolm said. “And don’t forget the other good people in the cities. Men like Mr. Goldberg who gave his life for us.”
“You’re right. Although you can’t lose track of the fact that the people who control the news, food, and cities are masters of the tipping point thought process. For them, it’s okay to have a few Malcolms and Mr. Goldbergs as long as they are kept well outnumbered.” An awkward silence ensued, and Vince suspected he’d said too much.
Gus decided to change the subject and jovially filled the dead silence at the table. “For years I didn’t share with hardly anyone, even my own family, my idea of a junk fortress. I figured they’d think I was nuts. This whole complex is like a maze now, and only a few of us know all the paths. To add to that, I’ve set it up so I can change the paths from time to time or block them if I choose. I even have some C4 under a few strategic spots to cause cave-ins that would take days to clear. In among those paths are the pens for hogs, goats, and several large fuel storage containers. I even have several of those huge shipping containers buried about the place with hidden living quarters, food, and ammo. We can ride out pretty much anything here. I have dozens of solar panels and some wind turbines atop certain junk piles recharging hundreds of recycled batteries. That’s in addition to some large generators scavenged from a hospital and a computer company when they upgraded. I’ve collected junk anywhere I could find it through the years. I made a good living cleaning up lots of things. I have close to a hundred acres of junk here. I can make things and trade and hide and survive.”
Kate smiled. “Wow, I’d love to see all that.”
Gus smiled back. “I’d love to show you, young lady, but I suspect you need to get going in the morning. Keep in mind too, I don’t show too many people, and almost no one sees it all. As long as everyone thinks I’m nothing more than a crazy old junkman, I should be good and my family safe and well fed.”
“That’s so cool.” Kate beamed.
“You still do your other work too, don’t you?” Vince asked.
“Yes, I fix up old cars. I have a side gig doing some up armor jobs on vehicles for certain clients. But like I said, if people think I’m a crazy old junkman who lives up in here with his guns, they’ll leave me alone.”
<< Liz >>
Liz lingered in the shower longer than she needed. It was a guilty pleasure she indulged in a few minutes longer than she needed even though she was aware that others wanted their turn and she didn’t know how much hot water there was. It felt delightful to be human again with a clean shower and good food. Her trainer would sneer at the calories she’d eaten and question whether the food was organic. She didn’t care right now.
Thinking of her trainer gave Liz a moment of pause. She didn’t know what things were like in California, even if she was alive or not. Luxuriating in the warmth of a fresh shower and a full stomach gave Liz time to reflect. It was a wonder how time raced along in such a way that made recent events fade into memory so fast. In reality, it was barely a matter of weeks since things went to heck and she subsequently left the downtown Chicago penthouse. The old saying kept floating through her head, “I’m exhausted from trying to be stronger than I feel.”
Because Liz had an eye for people and studied them, she noticed that when they were clean, fed, and safe, their whole demeanor changed. People spoke faster, smiled more, and exuded hope. She even heard laughter and a few jokes. It was strange to contemplate how rare and special laughter was. People needed laughter and joy so much more than they knew. It was definitely something that was taken for granted.
***
After dinner, they sat on the deck and listened to the sounds of the night. They talked, laughed, and joked. Liz found a comfortable spot on the step where she could lean her back against the post and gaze up at the sky, relax, and listen to the people around her. There was an easy camaraderie of shared experiences that reminded her of her grandmother’s home in Kentucky. As the sky darkened and the conversation slowed, people yawned. It was clear the pace of the day was reverting to sunlight hours as it had been a century ago.
While some people wanted to stay up and talk, others made excuses to head to bed. Liz stayed to relish the feeling of being fed, clean, and safe. She chose to stay on the deck and enjoy a cool drink. She merely wanted to soak up the talk and friendship around her, sit and absorb it, and “be.”
<< Ellie >>
Ellie stretched languidly. The bed felt great, and she would like to lie here all day. It was funny how much better a bed felt when she was tired or how much better food tasted when she was hungry. It was still dark outside and very early in the morning. She was filled with trepidation and wanted to bury her head in the pillow, enjoy the safety and comfort, and go back to sleep. She was scared about getting on the road again. When she got scared, it came out in anger or short-tempered responses to those around her. She didn’t like doing it yet was helpless to stop herself sometimes.
Vince lived for this stuff. As much as he beat himself up over the losses and the imperfections on a mission, he was never truly alive with that pinpoint focus as when he was on a mission and living on the razor’s edge. He was in his element whether he would admit it or not. She, on the other hand, worried and stressed. This was not the life for her. Ellie had no problem admitting that either to herself or others. She needed a sense of normalcy and safety for herself and her family.
Vince believed that humans were at their best when they struggled to survive, grow, and thrive. Other people had a lot of anxiety or stress over the struggle or conflict. They needed to be a part of something larger; they thrived on routine. Ellie was most happy being part of a team, a village, or community.
<< Levi >>
Even Levi smiled when they we
re expelled from the town of New Castle on the north side, exactly where they wanted to be. Greg’s plan worked perfectly. His friend vouched for him, and with the note from the policeman in Eminence, the sheriff let down his guard and trusted them.
Sherriff Owens was gruff on the outside, yet Levi thought that was more from responsibility than his natural demeanor. He brought in food and spent a couple of hours grilling them about all they’d seen. At first, he focused exclusively on Greg, likely because Greg was a known and trusted commodity in the area and partially because Greg’s information was more local and of immediate use. He wanted to know the road conditions, the responses of various small towns between Springfield and New Castle, and asked a lot of questions about his peers in other towns. When he found that Greg’s friend and men’s prayer group member was a detective in the Shelbyville police force, he asked about him too. Soon it was clear that although Greg saw a lot, he actually knew very little. That was true of most people not trained in observation. The government wasn’t sharing much, and most news outlets were either uninformed or purposefully sharing stories so politically slanted that they had little informational value.
When Sherriff Owens got to Levi and learned his background, he became very interested. Levi briefly contemplated holding back. OPSEC was so well ingrained in him that he didn’t like to share much. However, when he considered that he didn’t know much that was classified secret information, he decided to be more open. The only portions he held back were things specific to the company, his mission, or where Dave got his information. Sherriff Owens was mostly interested from the perspective of trying to determine how long this crisis would last and if there actually was help on the horizon on a national level.