Surviving The Black (Book 4): Betrayal From Within

by Finley, Zack

  "Pimples knew people who knew people in Mill Creek and Chaney Gap. Someone told him the Chaney Gap group were preppers associated with a church. He convinced the rest of the morons that they could take over by shooting off the machine guns. He told his followers they'd be the new royalty. Only serfs worked. He insisted the area around Chaney Gap would provide the serfs."

  "So, you don't think anyone in Chaney Gap collaborated with Pimples?" Roger asked.

  "No, I doubt he could work with anybody for long. A few years ago, I heard rumors on the prepper underground of a religious group, Baptist, I think, in the hills east of Sunbright. They kept a low profile.

  My mom took a deep breath and continued, "Jennifer, Ellie, and I developed a plan to take down the three men, which I'm glad we didn't need. I would drill Pimples in the ear with the nail file, Jennifer would shoot the guard with my pistol, and Ellie would kick the turret guy in the balls. We figured that would distract him until Jennifer could shoot him, too." The desperation of that plan chilled me.

  "Once they sent the guard to help move the roadblock, I planned to shoot Pimples and then the turret guy. When the man in the turret lost his head, I ended Pimples, and we buttoned everything up. I feared that the Chaney Gap people were the ones attacking, so I tried to get us out of there. I didn't see the damn tree across the road until I rammed into it with the trailer. Then we saw Jeremy, and you know the rest." She broadcast a definite feeling of finality.

  "Now, I intend to shower off this blood and the feel of those creeps and then sleep until morning. My mind is overloaded, and I can't process anymore." With that, she strode out the door with my dad tight on her heels.

  Alice nodded. She and Alex slipped back into the family room.

  Now all eyes turned to Roger.

  "We don't know much more than when you left. Our man wounded at the guardhouse is still in critical condition, but Dr. Jerrod is hopeful. The sponsors helped us round up those we added from the three neighborhoods. All were disarmed and under guard, for now. We haven’t questioned everyone. So far, only a few of the newcomers suspected something might be in the works. Most didn't. Everette came from Glenn's neighborhood, along with many you already dealt with. Glenn blames himself so much that Dr. Jerrod sedated him and placed him on a suicide watch. We converted some storage containers into holding cells. My guys are moving anyone that knew something and didn't warn us into them.

  "Our next priority group to question are people on Clair’s malcontent list. The betrayal hit everyone hard. There is a strong sentiment to kill them all. Until you talk about specific individuals. My guess is we'll find Valley people willing to endorse. But any without a longtime Valley sponsor willing to speak on their behalf may find themselves on the short end of a rope."

  There wasn't much else to say. Roger and Carmine left, leaving the rest of us to rest. I had zero interest in returning to my house and curled up on the floor with the kids. Steve stretched out in Dad's chair; Mandy sprawled on the couch. Joe slept in a sleeping bag next to the wall. Alice distributed more blankets for the group and bid us good night. I stripped down to my boxers and tee-shirt in the dark and tried to sleep.

  I prayed silently for Granny and thanked God for saving the rest of my family. God and I maintained a stormy relationship. I prayed plenty, it just never seemed to work out. For much of today, I prayed for the safe return of my girls. That they were alive and physically unharmed, felt akin to a miracle. I was proud Jennifer was prepared to free herself, and relieved it wasn’t necessary.

  I never wanted to set foot in my house again. It felt like an albatross to me, tainted with distressing memories. I intended to discuss the matter with my parents, and work out sleeping arrangements, somehow. Granny could return to her own house with Uncle Bob. With Steve and Mandy at Justice, that house wasn't a safe place for my girls to stay alone. We could turn it over to the Rangers and any Gamma who wanted to stay there. I knew many of the Gammas lived with their parents, this might be a welcome alternative.

  I eventually dozed off.

  My watch vibrated me awake. During the night, both Jennifer and Melissa snuggled against me. I didn't want to leave them, but duty called. Time for PT. I eased away, grabbed my stuff, and went straight to the mudroom's bathroom. No one else stirred in the early morning gloom.

  The weather was cold and raining. That meant stopping by my house to pick up my rain gear. I caught up with Craig and the others staying there. Everyone asked about my girls and my mom. I assured them they were fine. That no one asked about Granny filled me with dread. They probably knew more than I did.

  The bitching about the weather seemed half-hearted, as we assembled in front of the armory. Craig and Ben remained on limited duty. They assured me neither suffered any ill effects from the operation. Tom was missing, but Grady and his squad lined up, this time not wearing shorts and tees.

  I hated to leave the cleanup to my team, but my family’s needs came first today. My rumbling stomach was demanding fuel. Skipping supper and all that followed left me ravenous. I should have eaten one of the MREs last night. Needing to feed regularly was one disadvantage of our limited diet. We weren't malnourished, but missing meals brought adverse consequences.

  The atmosphere in the food hut felt different, almost gloomy, matching the dismal rain outside. Someone must have pressed the ‘mute’ button with everyone speaking in soft tones or whispers. None of the usual laughter or buzz of conversations. Empty tables provided part of the story.

  The funeral mood persisted, despite the scrambled eggs, sausage, and corn tortillas on today's menu. I got a second sausage patty without asking; the lady behind the counter wouldn't take it back. I suspected my mound of eggs was a larger portion, too. When I returned to our table, I learned they dished out double rations to everyone since few ate supper last night.

  Our PT crowd wolfed down the feast without talking. Even Buzzer respected the somber atmosphere. I shoveled in my meal, rushing to rejoin my family. Tom spotted us and made a beeline for our table. His look sent shivers through me, and I wanted to escape before he could deliver his news. You can’t outrun bad news, so I joined him at one of the empty tables.

  "There is no good way to say this," Tom started. "Esther is slipping away. Dr. Jerrod spoke with your dad and uncles. I expect they will remove the life support per her wishes sometime this morning."

  I suspected this was coming, but the actual reality of it felt so much worse. "Where is my dad?"

  "At the hospital. Claire is with him, along with George and Bob. Mandy and Alice are bringing the kids to breakfast. The kids don't know yet," Tom said.

  Telling Jennifer and Melissa would be hard under any circumstances, but it would be devastating on the heels of the kidnapping. The body blows kept coming.

  Tom looked stricken, but none of this was his fault. "Thanks, Tom, for hunting me down. I should check on my dad." I put my tray and dishes away and walked out into the icy rain. Now, the downpour felt totally appropriate. I couldn't force myself to run to the hospital, all I could manage was a determined march. One foot in front of the other as I contemplated another round of grief.

  I felt lucky to have shared her life, but also immense guilt because I failed to detect the cancer in our Valley. She went down as a warrior, fighting for our family. I knew she had no regrets, but I would still miss my granny.

  Someone escorted me wordlessly into Granny's room. My dad's face was set in stone as he tried to comfort my mom. A shrunken Uncle George knelt next to the bed, holding Granny’s wrinkled hand. He appeared lost and stunned.

  A bewildered-looking Uncle Bob slumped in a chair beside George. Aunt Clarice stood behind Bob with her arms wrapped around him, murmuring softly against his cheek.

  Steve, his face carved in granite, leaned against the wall behind my dad. Seeing him this morning, I realized that I had the easiest assignment yesterday. Being in the thick of the action was so much better than standing by helplessly waiting for news. As the oldest and the on
e who stayed nearby, Steve spent countless more hours with Granny than me. Do more memories make it harder to say goodbye?

  Dr. Jerrod's helpers brought in more folding chairs until it was difficult to move around in the tiny room. Granny still breathed with a ventilator. Steve whispered to me that Dr. Jerrod would be in soon to remove it. I found myself syncing my breathing to the pace of the ventilator. Even after I realized it, the beat was hard to shake, so I gave up.

  One of my dad's cronies dressed in a black suit meant for a bigger man stepped into the room. His appearance surprised me until I remembered he wasn't just a carpenter; he was also a lay preacher. He urged us to hold hands and pray. I was impressed he didn't offer to lead us in prayer, he assumed we each had our own faith. He then made the rounds, offering a few words of encouragement before slipping out of the room.

  Dr. Jerrod and Tom arrived on his heels. She removed the breathing tube, and Tom shut down the machinery. He left promptly, but Dr. Jerrod remained. She kissed Granny on the forehead and whispered a few words before standing against the wall near Steve and me. That prompted everyone to go to Granny and say goodbye, including me.

  In a few minutes, it ended. Esther Breckinridge slid out of this life just after 10:00 without regaining consciousness. I hoped she and Pops reunited on some other plane the way she expected to. I knew she missed him every day.

  My dad remained stoic, even as he consoled George. Clarice held Bob as he sobbed his anguish. Steve knelt beside my mom, his arms holding her tight. I didn't know what to do, so I edged over to whisper to Steve.

  "I have to tell my girls," I said. "It would probably be better if we tell them together?"

  Steve nodded, "Joe is really going to take this hard. Mandy and Alice have them, they should be back at Mom's house by now. Let's meet there in a few and let them know."

  I hugged my dad and uncles before escaping. Dr. Jerrod's helpers all said words of sympathy, but it was difficult for me to take them in. Ours wasn't the only family grieving today. Death visited three other Valley homes. We would probably hold a remembrance tomorrow or the next day, but it didn't seem real.

  ◆◆◆

  It rained for three days. The memorial was solemn, and the tears, genuine. But so was the anger. And the resolve.

  Roger's men identified and isolated five members of a sleeper cell left behind to spy on us. We discovered the cell from information extracted from our three captives and questioning of the newcomer community. They also learned others knew Pimples planned something violent but said nothing.

  Roger and Carmine set aside their own grief and led the council to give my family time to heal. They called a full meeting. We held it in the barn originally prepared for our meeting with the newcomers. I wasn't the only one struck by the irony of that. I stood in the back. My dad sat in the front. My mom stayed home.

  Meetings of the Valley council normally fit in my dad's dining room. Technically, every active Valley ally over age 21 had a seat on the council. Most of the time, people relied on the smaller leadership group to make decisions for everyone. While my dad leaned heavily upon both the council and the leadership, in the end, he had the final say.

  The leadership group consisted of my dad's closest cronies, the heads of Valley families. Since the crash, he added Dr. Jerrod, Jacob Neufeld, Steve, Jim Smith, and I to the mix. Members of the council were welcome at leadership meetings to provide input. This structure could be unwieldy and was sometimes chaotic. It worked for decades. Whether it would serve us in the post-apocalyptic world was still unclear.

  The governance had less to do with democracy than it did with friendship, the bonds of brotherhood, and shared values. The backbone of this group came from my dad's generation. Their children, my generation, grew up spending summers together in the Valley. Most returned to the relative safety of the Valley after the alert. Some, like Andy, made their own plans, and a few even ignored the warning altogether. My generation lacked the strong bonds of our fathers. I witnessed that even among my own siblings. I hoped our fight for survival would bring us closer, not rip us asunder.

  This was the first council meeting my mom ever missed. My uncles George and Bob attended. It was a shock to see George; he never attended a council meeting, ever. George sat between my dad and Bob. Aunt Clarice sat beside Bob, holding his hand.

  Steve and I represented our generation of Breckinridges. Alice stayed home with our mom.

  Roger asked for volunteers to serve on the jury. He got an overwhelming show of hands. He then asked for all those who lost family members to abstain. About one-third of the hands dropped.

  My dad stood up, and the immediate silence demonstrated the respect the council had for him.

  "In the coming weeks, those chosen for the jury will have the hardest job in our Valley," my dad said. "They must determine the fate of nearly 80 people we brought into our community when the crisis began. I believe we will find most of those who remain are untainted by the cancer in our midst, but it will be up to the jury to determine this.

  "The sooner we re-integrate the innocent, hardworking people who became assets, the better. Yet, we must excise this cancer completely. That will require difficult decisions to protect the Valley for the future. Everyone here is angry. We all lost either family or friends to this debacle. Every person selected for the jury must be willing to work with the other jurors to reach a consensus on the fate of those in custody. If your anger, grief, or some other emotion makes it difficult for you to review the evidence dispassionately, please step aside. None of us will fault you for it." My dad paused, seeking individuals out in the crowd. Whether to encourage or discourage them was unclear to me.

  "I expect the jury to recommend actions on each person we now have in custody. This includes appropriate punishments for those deemed too close to the cancer to stay in our Valley. I hope you talk with everyone who can provide insight into the newcomers' character and behavior. While you are the group assigned to evaluate the accused, I will be very disappointed if you do this in a vacuum. Feel free to convene another council meeting for collective input into punishment options. That said, do not bog down the process if there are a few prisoners you fail to reach a consensus on. Set aside any you cannot agree on, the council leadership will decide their fate.

  "I'd like to give you all the time you need for this, but planting season is on the horizon, and the longer this drags on, the more damaging it is for everyone. Our intel group has already identified most of the malignancy. We will execute those who actively participated in the plot once we determine there is no more to learn from them. They are the cancer." A visceral sound permeated the barn, something between a snarl and a growl.

  "The jury's primary challenge will be dealing with those at the boundary between innocent and guilty. Those who suspected something but didn't report it. Those who knew some operation was planned but said or did nothing. Relatives and friends of the murderers. I trust you will assess the risks and make your recommendations." With that, my dad sat back down, initially leaving a stunned silence, followed nearly immediately by a loud resurgence of conversations.

  Roger waited patiently for the commotion to settle down. Soon hisses urging quiet broke out. Roger sat a few seconds more before speaking.

  "All those willing to serve on this jury, step toward the left side of the room. Everyone else, move toward the back and make room. Peter, that means my left, not yours. You always had two left feet." A few chuckles broke out as everybody shuffled into one position or another.

  Phil brought in a briefcase filled with poker chips, saying, "I need to know how many people are willing to serve before we can start. Once Phil received the count, he dumped stacks of chips into a plastic bucket. He then took nine black ones from his pocket and dropped them in. A quick shake to mix them, and people picked their chips. Those who selected a black one moved to the front of the room for last-minute instructions.

  I slipped out the back during the selection, returning to my childhood
home. When I proposed the move, it met with universal approval. Even Alice and her brood jumped to help everyone settle in. Jennifer, Melissa, and I shared a room, for now. Neither wanted to be separated. To be honest, I was happier sharing a room, too.

  My mom occupied her days and evenings preparing for the planting season, increasing the starts in the greenhouses, and laying out the various crops on paper. There was a lot involved in rotating crops, planning early, prime, and late-season plantings. She and Rachel Neufeld planned a series of experimental plantings combining classic Mennonite farming practices with biointensive farming. Then there was the whole sorghum, sugar beet, and field beet competition for sweeteners.

  We wouldn't plant wheat until this fall, probably on the same field that grew corn or sorghum. It all sounded like multi-dimensional chess with a near-infinite number of potential options. All with real-world consequences. While my dad considered himself the farmer, he planted what my mom told him to grow.

  This year we had so many new considerations, like avoiding diseases caused by vitamin or mineral deficiencies. Scurvy, rickets, pellagra, anemia, and beriberi afflicted many colonials and could become a problem for us. It was one reason Dr. Jerrod insisted on having a year 'round supply of salad greens. Tomatoes and peppers were rich in vitamin C, now that citrus was off the menu. This year we planned to store a lot more potatoes, apples, pears, cabbages, root vegetables, and winter squash in root cellars for consumption next winter.