EMP 1500 MILES FROM HOME

by Mike Whitworth

  As best I counted, there were now 46 men, women, and children at the ranch. It was developing into a real community.

  The Double H had little good ground for planting, although George assured me that, with work, a good-sized garden could be irrigated and made to grow. Otherwise, the main food on the ranch had always been, and would continue to be, beef.

  When we took the caravan east in the spring, I was hoping that some of the people would go with us. George thinks a total of 30 to 35 people on the ranch will be just fine as there were that many living there during the late 1800s.

  We are planning several more expeditions to raid stranded 18-wheelers before spring. These expeditions will be better armed and have outriders. We are hoping to find canned goods, and other foods that are not be spoiled.

  George and I were going to try to trade with a couple of local ranchers for more freight wagons. George knew of a few still tucked away in barns. There were still more than a few buckboards and smaller wagons around as well. One of the neighboring ranchers and his family had visited a few days ago in a buckboard, surrounded by armed cowboys on horseback. I should have thought of outriders before we went to raid trailers. If I had, Max might still be alive.

  "Trouble coming!" One of the sentries in the watchtower nailed to the roof of the barn shouted. The watchtower sat directly on the peak, and was armored with all manner of wood and sheet metal. It had been tested and a 30-06 round would not pass through the walls.

  I ran into the barn and climbed the ladder to the watchtower. The sentry pointed out the dust column on the ranch road. It looked like there were a number of vehicles coming our way. I assumed it was the bad actors we spied on at the nearest ranch, but I wasn't sure.

  By now the alarm had been sounded and everyone was taking up defensive positions. At the speed the vehicles were coming, I thought we would have fifteen minutes before they arrived. I thought there might be infiltrators coming on foot from other directions as well, even though none had been spotted.

  We waited. Cap always told me that waiting was the worst part of any battle. I understood that all too well now.

  The line of vehicles grew closer. Soon I could make out individual vehicles through my binoculars. There was a Jeep, four Humvees, two medium-sized military trucks, and two armored cars that looked to be from WWII. What worried me was the field piece towed by one of the trucks. I wasn't expecting to see that. While the machine guns on the Humvees were bad, there were now tunnels connecting the buildings on the ranch and several buried bunkers that could keep us safe from machine gun fire. We had nothing that would protect us from a cannon. I went to find Yeti just to be sure.

  "Yeti, will the tunnels and bunkers withstand a direct hit from that cannon out there?"

  "Yeti was studying the enemy through a pair of binoculars. "No Wayne, I don't think so."

  "Thanks," I ran to the ranch house where George and several others were gathering maps and stuff to take to the command bunker. "George, they have a cannon. We need to take it out before they can use it on us."

  "OK," George said. "But don't damage it if you can help it. We can use it to defend the ranch if we can capture it."

  "I will see if I can nail the gun crew once they have picked their location."

  "I will spot for you," Vern said.

  "Thanks Vern, I will meet you at the escape tunnel with the gear in five minutes."

  "See you there," Vern smiled.

  I couldn't help but laugh as I left. I was planning on incapacitating a modern cannon with an antique, black powder rifle.

  We had discussed the possibility of employing snipers outside of the ranch compound if we were attacked and we now had three designated snipers. I was one. The Sharps was my weapon, the other two snipers had scoped 30-06s. The rest of the longer-range rifles were to be used from within the compound.

  Vern and I slipped out of the hidden escape tunnel entrance. Yeti locked the door from inside as we spread dirt over it once more until it looked just like the rest of the high desert ground. We made our way to the top of a hill where a camouflaged sniper pit awaited us. We were concealed in the pit and watching the enemy column long before the vehicles split off into attack formation.

  They set the cannon up almost a mile from the ranch headquarters and over four thousand feet from our position. That was much farther away than I expected. I was sure our other snipers were also in place, but they were covering the back and flanks. We covered the front, and the cannon was our responsibility.

  For the thousandth time since the End of the World, I wished Cap were here with me. He would know what to do. I wasn't sure in spite of all of Cap's teachings.

  We watched the attack begin. The Humvees each had a machine gun. Through the binoculars, I could tell that two of the machine guns were 30-caliber and two were 50-caliber. I prepared the Sharps and estimated the range to the closest Humvee with a 50-caliber machine gun. It was just under 500 yards. I fired and the machine gunner collapsed. Almost immediately the other 50-caliber sought us out and rounds struck all around us while we hunkered down in the pit. Return fire was one of the hazards of using a black powder smoker. We stayed there for five minutes after the machine gun fire ceased. I hoped by then they thought they nailed us. Then we climbed out of the pit and made for another position on the next hill.

  Easing up from behind the hill, we heard the boom as the cannon fired and part of the ranch house collapsed. They were using explosive rounds.

  The range to the big gun from our new position was still over 1000 yards, or over a half mile. I took aim at the man directing the cannon fire and squeezed the trigger. We watched as the bullet struck him and he collapsed like rising dough in a bouncy room. I got off another shot before the 50-caliber started firing at us. We rolled back down the hill and sought another position closer to the cannon.

  By now the ranch house was mostly destroyed and one of the bunkhouses was on fire. I could see our people returning fire from behind our bulwarks. If we didn't silence the big gun the enemy would win for sure. Even if we silenced the cannon they stood a more than even chance of winning.

  Vern and I needed to capture the cannon and turn it on the enemies' vehicles. Vern agreed, so we began working our way behind the cannon and its crew. We had two pistols, an A4 carbine, and a single-shot Sharps rifle. We would need some luck as well. Cap didn't believe in luck, but he wasn't here and I wanted some.

  It took us twenty minutes to get behind the gun crew. By the time we did, most of the ranch buildings were destroyed—except for the barn. I figured they wanted any horses we might have in the barn. Our defenders were still returning enough fire to at least force the attackers to keep their heads down.

  By now the attackers must have discovered that the only way a vehicle could enter the ranch headquarters was along the drive because they regrouped their vehicles near the drive. Deep ditches and barriers blocked all other vehicular access. Our Humvee and several other vehicles blocked the gate.

  We crawled on our bellies toward the gun crew. I counted eight men. Four worked the gun and four were standing guard with rifles. Vern was on the other side, and when I fired he would too. I found a vantage point and, still lying on my belly under as much cover as find, I picked off the Guards with my sixgun. It took five shots. By then the gun crew was scrambling away from the gun. Vern nailed two of them as they ran. I reloaded the sixgun and picked up the Sharps. From a prone position I knocked the closest runner down at 200 yards. The second fell at 350 yards. Neither moved.

  "How the hell do you operate this thing?" I asked Vern.

  "Just bring me some of those shells over there. I got to play with one of these once, let's see how much I can remember." There was a wicked grin on Vern's face I had not seen before.

  Vern's first shot missed. I don't think the enemy recognized it for a cannon shot. Vern's second round nailed a Humvee with a 50-caliber machine gun. Vern's third round was loaded and he was adjusting the gun when the second big fifty star
ted firing at us. I dove for cover. Vern stood calmly behind the gun checking his adjustments as if no one was shooting at him. I think I witnessed true valor for the first time. It is the doing of one's duty with no fear for one's own life. I didn’t know if I could ever be that brave. Even though I had been in a number of tight situations, and had fought back fairly well, I was not sure I could do what Vern was doing now.

  Vern fired the big gun and a couple of seconds later the Humvee with the second 50-caliber machinegun exploded. Both of the Humvees with the 30-caliber machine guns were firing at us but they were too far away for any accuracy. I loaded the big gun for Vern as he destroyed the remaining two Humvees.

  By now the trucks, armored cars, and the Jeep were heading into the desert to try to get away from the cannon. Vern calmly destroyed or disabled each in turn. We could see the enemy running off into the desert in small groups. A group of ten or so was surrendering to our men at the blocked entrance to the ranch.

  I looked at the carnage through my binoculars. The only remaining working enemy vehicle was the truck used to tow the cannon. I estimated at least half of the enemy had been killed outright. I appropriated an A4 carbine off of a dead enemy and Vern and I watched over the cannon from a secure position.

  "Vern, I am amazed at how you returned fire when that big fifty was shooting at us. A single hit would have ended it for you."

  "Or you," Vern smiled. "You didn't desert me."

  "No, but I sure hunkered down."

  "There is nothing wrong with that. There was nothing you could do anyway. You would have brought me the next round if it was needed."

  "I would like to think so, but I am not so sure," I said.

  "I am," Vern said. "I have watched you. You are a brave man."

  "Not like you, Vern," I said. "Not like you."

  "Bravery is just giving up everything you have to live for and accepting your death while doing the best that you can," Vern smiled. "It get's easier the older you get because you have less to lose. I don't have much left to lose."

  In a few minutes, George and several others pulled up in our Humvee. Vern and I joined George in the Humvee while the others backed the truck to the cannon and fastened it to the hitch. "How many people did we lose?" I asked George.

  "The last count I had was 11."

  "What about Julie?"

  "She is safe."

  I was relieved. "What about Yeti and Dave?"

  "I don't know yet."

  What should we do about those who escaped? I think there may be as many as fifteen of them."

  "We counted 21," George said. "We think there were at least 60 of them when they attacked."

  "That is a small army," I said.

  "There will be larger groups than that," Vern said. "All it takes to build a mob like that now is a charismatic leader with a military background who has access to food and water."

  The ranch headquarters was a mess. I was relieved to find Yeti and Dave both unharmed. Julie was in tears staring at the remains of the ranch house. It was completely destroyed. She folded herself into my arms and cried on my shoulder, or would have if she had been tall enough.

  George looked at the damage and shrugged his shoulders. "It can all be rebuilt," I said.

  "We can't bring back the dead," George said.

  "No, I am afraid we can't.”

  Two of the dead were children killed by a cannon shell where they were hiding. We had one big funeral for all. They were buried in individual graves in the ranch cemetery. I was on grave-digging detail for two days, so was Dave. We mostly dug in silence.

  I was on guard duty with the Sharps so I didn't attend the funeral. Most of the men were on guard duty as well, except for one who lost his wife in the battle, another who lost a brother, and George, who officiated.

  We had not seen any intruders since the attack. George thought they would not be back since we destroyed or captured all of their vehicles and now had the cannon. I thought they might attempt a night attack. The ex-military guys agreed and set up extra sentries at night.

  The only building left intact was the barn, so everyone was sleeping either in the barn, or underground. Most of the activity over the next few days involved salvaging everything of use from the collapsed buildings and from the destroyed enemy vehicles.

  George tallied everything as people brought him lists of salvaged stuff. All of the food, guns, ammunition, and some other items were moved underground before the attack, but much was lost in the buildings, especially personal effects. Most of us just had the clothes on our backs now.

  The captured invaders were questioned and then executed by firing squad. It was harsh, but necessary.

  Temporary bathing and washing stations were set up. The windmill that pumped the water remained undamaged and, once a few bullet holes in the water tank were patched, we had a tank full of water again. The most sorely missed items were the blankets.

  The second attack came on the fifth night. They swarmed over our crude ramparts. Our sentries did not see them coming. The night was moonless and cloudy so the starlight was not bright enough to see by. I ran into the ranch yard with an A4 carbine, crouched behind a barrier, and started firing at muzzle flashes. In just a few minutes I was grappling with two of the attackers who came upon me unseen. I managed to knock one out and stab the other one with my bowie knife.

  I retreated to the barn door, and fought beside two newcomers. We were losing. Many of our people were down. Then someone threw a flare into the ranch yard. The flare blinded our attackers, who were wearing night vision goggles. Quickly three more flares were tossed into the ranch yard. Before the attackers could remove their night vision goggles, the battle turned the other way. Now that we had something to shoot at, the attackers were falling under our fire. I emptied one magazine and started on another. Soon all the attackers we could see were dead or wounded. The gunfire subsided and all we heard was the moaning and screams of the wounded and dying.

  I looked for Julie. She was in the barn, and other than one close call, she was fine. "Where is Yeti?" I asked as we held each other.

  "Yeti is the one who saved the day," Vern said as he appeared beside us. "He realized that our attackers were using night vision goggles and threw the flares from the roof of the barn to blind the attackers."

  "He is one smart fellow," George said. "We all owe him our lives tonight." He put his hand on Vern's shoulder. "Just like we owe our lives to you for destroying the intruders' vehicles in the last attack. Vern."

  "It really wasn't a big deal," Vern said.

  Soon our casualties were gathered into a makeshift first aid area and those who knew how were tending to them.

  We suffered 14 wounded and eight dead in the attack. Two of the wounded would probably not make it. One of the newcomers was found dead, a twelve-year-old boy—Darrell. There were seven dead attackers around him. He killed them all with a handgun before he was killed. His empty pistol lay at his feet.

  We were down to 30 people, and two of those would most likely pass before morning. A couple of men were badly wounded, but should survive. Others were walking wounded.

  Since the first sniper attack, we had 20 dead, and by morning that would most likely be 22. That was almost half of our people dead in a matter of a few weeks.

  We posted several sentries; each equipped with night vision goggles taken from our attackers, while everyone else met in the barn. George gathered everyone in front of him and began speaking.

  "I am sorry that we have lost so many people, sorrier that I could ever find words to say. In the time since most of you joined us at the Double H, I have come to know and like you. You are all good people and some damn good fighters."

  "After much thought, I have come to a conclusion: No matter how much effort we spend on defenses here at the ranch, I don't think we will be able to defend it without horrible losses."

  "Now, all of you know that Wayne, Julie, Yeti, and Dave are planning on taking an expedition to Indiana in about
a month. I propose that we all go along and look for a safer place to settle. I think we are all family now and should stay together, but of course everyone is free to do as he or she wishes."

  "No one has to decide right now. I urge all of you to do what you think is best for you. My family has been on this ranch for 142 years, and, as much as I want to leave the Double H to my daughter, it is time to leave."

  "There is safety in numbers and there is, at least in times like these, I think, safety in mobility. Here on the ranch, we are a sitting target. Rather than rebuild, we should build the best and safest caravan we can."

  "In a few days, I will ask Wayne to tell us more about his plans and what might be awaiting us in Indiana."

  There was much discussion in the crowd. I was surprised by George's decision. I assumed he would rebuild the ranch and stay.

  I was devastated by the losses we took in the attacks. I was also petrified at the thought of being responsible for all of these people. What if I made a mistake?

  Dave tugged at my hand, "You can do it Wayne." I think he saw the look on my face and read my mind.

  "I don't know Dave. I don't know if I am up to it?"

  "Of course you are Wayne, and you will have help. Don't forget that."

  "Yeah Dad, you can do this. These people will follow you anywhere." Yeti laid his arm across my shoulders.

  Julie came over from where she had been talking to several of the women. I think she sensed my doubts too. "Wayne, we can't predict the future. We just have to do the best we can. That is all anyone can ask."

  At the next meeting I told everyone of my plans, about how I wanted to establish a peaceful trading company so we could gain protected passage across lands controlled by the coming feudal warlords, much like the one we had recently defeated, though not identified. I also said that, in order to be peaceful, we had to be better armed than any group we might encounter. We had a start on that with the cannon, night vision goggles—as long as the batteries lasted anyway, and the armament we had gathered.