America- The Eagle has Fallen

by Gordon Ballantyne

  I laughed. “You mean they have fallen for the bait? Jacob?”

  “Yes sir,” he said with confidence. “I’m on it.”

  “Marcus?” I asked looking in his direction with a raised eyebrow. “Can you help Jacob make a bunch of snares and help Jacob and Randy tonight with the watch? Randy and I will build a hutch for the ones that make it.”

  “No problem,” said Marcus. “Shooter?” he asked, already understanding my intention.

  “Just watch,” I smiled and gave him a wink.

  Randy looked at us with confusion on his round face.

  “Randy,” I explained. “Jacob is going to shoot the deer that come by tonight for their dinner with his suppressed rifle. You and Marcus are going to process any deer Jacob manages to bring down. Fortunately the dogs don’t bark at deer. Marcus and Jacob are going to make rabbit snares out of picture wire and set them out. The snares don’t always kill the trapped rabbits so we will capture any live ones and put them in a pen. I’m sure you’ve heard the term “going at it like bunnies?” Well bunnies reproduce quickly and grow meat at a rapid rate. We will set up a large dog pen enclosure and put the live ones in the pen. We only need to keep moving the pen over fresh vegetation and bunnies will do what bunnies do best. Marcus, please make a whole bunch of extra snares and a couple of sets of figure four sticks and we will take Jacob with us tomorrow to get the community teens working at trapping rabbits and limb rats. Joy, if you can please come with us and show the ladies what edibles can be harvested from the woods while Randy and I get the cul-de-sac people set up with a garden plot, irrigation and a greenhouse.”

  “Won’t that put a strain on our food supply helping those people?” asked Randy demurely.

  “Not if Jacob can shoot straight, rabbits stay dumb and the community pulls together to get some seed in the ground. It is a short term cost in exchange for a long term food and security solution,” I explained. “Winter will be tough but thanks to Cindy and the coop, the four acres of food we have in the ground and everyone working together we will prevail. We will probably have a few farm hands tomorrow. Cindy and Amy, I really need you two to watch them carefully. Let me know if any of them decide to take a walk around to check things out. Under no circumstance do we talk about food, ourselves, our resources or let anyone in the house. We will spend the afternoon digging an outhouse for the field help. I think they are all harmless but we need to be safe. Our evening watches will be augmented to three people with one on the roof, one on the patio and a roving walking patrol. You all have your whistles and blow them if anything seems out of place. Cindy, please make sure the field hands rake out the perimeter soil we left around the planting so we can see footprints if anyone has been nosing about. I’m pretty sure the dogs would pick up on it but they will grow accustomed to the strangers and might not bark.”

  We all sat down to a good dinner of steak, potatoes and green beans. My wife had even made an apple pie with ice cream for the kids. After the kids went to bed, we enjoyed a bottle of wine and played cards. We had put up black out curtains over the dining room area and after checking outside for light leakage I walked Amy and her kids to their home. Finally I had a shower and joined my wife in bed.

  “Are we doing the right thing?” she asked. My wife always had a bit of bleeding heart liberalism in her. She always tuned out politics, feeling her voice and vote were ineffective and chose to live in her “bubble” of unicorns, rainbows and real housewives of lord knows where.

  “With what?” I asked.

  “Not giving the neighbors food?” she said. “We always talk about doing more charity work and giving to the needy.”

  “Honey,” I said frankly. “If we just gave them food then they would keep coming back for more. The Bible says give a man a fish and feed him for a day, teach a man to fish and feed him for his life. I’m sure that is a parable of some kind referring to teaching them God’s love but we need to teach these people how to provide for themselves. I’ll make sure that anyone who works hard doesn’t starve and those that can’t provide for themselves are taken care of but I do not have the time for idiots like Jones that feel entitled to a free hand out. They all had an equal opportunity to invest in their futures but spent their money on frivolous material goods.”

  “You are right,” she said after thinking about it for a few seconds. “I am so happy you did not cave when I said you were spending too much on your preparations but I am so glad you did taking care of me, Avery, my family and now our expanded family.”

  “How happy?” I asked in a husky tone.

  “I’ll show you if you promise not to wake up the entire house,” she said with a smile.

  CHAPTER 3

  We woke up the next morning to coffee and a large breakfast. I knew it would be another beautiful day with clear sunny skies just by the smell in the air. I stepped out onto the back patio and was glad to see two dressed deer hanging from gambrels over by the garage. I walked out and inspected the kills and saw two perfect heart-lung bullet holes, one in each of them. I saw Randy and he came over seeing me inspecting the deer.

  “Never seen anything like it,” he said with awe in his voice. “By the time I was going to whisper there’s a deer, I already heard two pfft pffts next to me and both deer just wobbled and fell over. The kid just turned and looked at me, smiled a shit eating grin, and said “Well Mr. Randy, I shot them, you need to hang, gut and skin them.” I looked at Marcus and he laughed at me too. Those two showed me how to hang and gut the deer, showing me on one while I had to do the other. I was hacking away with my knife when they took mercy on me and showed me how to sharpen my knife with a stone; it was much easier after that. Then they went around the property and picked up six rabbits and put the two live ones in the pen and showed me how to skin and butcher the other four. It is effing Davey Crocket and Daniel Boone you have living here. I am sure glad they are on our side.”

  I went over to the hung deer, took out my knife and removed two quarters from the carcasses. I wrapped the two quarters in a piece of plastic and added two of the dressed rabbits to the makeshift bag. I then went to the garden and pulled twenty carrots and dug up two onions and ten potatoes putting them in a basket. Marcus, Randy, Joy, Jacob and I loaded up the tractor with a water tote and a ram pump and set off for the cul-de-sac. There were thirty people in the street when we came driving up, ranging in ages from five to eighty. I grouped them by age group. “OK, everyone between the ages of eight and fifteen please come over here with Jacob.” Six kids went to stand in a group with Jacob. “Under the age of eight please go with Joy.” Four little ones came forward shyly. That left eighteen adults. “OK, who wants to help Grandma Ginny with lunch and foraging, work in the fields, join Adam for security or organize a scrounge party?” I asked. People began shuffling about. Six men signed up for farm work. Four with handguns and hunting rifles headed for the road blocks to join Adam’s crew, four ladies joined Grandma Ginny and four wanted to scrounge. I gave Ginny’s group the basket and plastic wrapped meat. One of them opened the plastic and held it away from her with a look of disgust on her face.

  “What is this and what the hell do we do with it?” she asked slightly aghast.

  Grandma Ginny came over, looked inside the plastic and said, “Ohhh, I have a great recipe for rabbit and venison stew. OK ladies, no dawdling. Get those two sawhorses over there set up by the fire pit with a piece of plywood across it. Carolyn, go get that large pot you use for the church spaghetti night and the big plastic cutting boards. Mindy, get that fire pit going, we’ll have to get the stones around the fire rearranged to set the pot on. Angela, get down to the creek and keep bringing buckets of water until I tell you to stop.” Ginny turned and gave me a wink. “I’ll get these soccer moms whipped into shape in no time and really give them something to twitter about. I remember when a twitter was the slow kid in school.”

  I knew I had Ginny pegged right. “OK teens and tweens. Marcus and Jacob over here will show you how to trap
animals.” One of the fifteen-year-olds went up to Jacob, looking at his rifle. “Cool,” he said. “Let me see that kid.” Walking toward Jacob. Jacob stepped back, drew his Sig and pointed it at the teen with his finger off the trigger. “Step away!” Jacob ordered in a loud voice. The teen stopped in his tracks with his eyes wide and a look of terror in his now ghost white face.

  Jacob announced. “This is my rifle, it is not a toy. If your parents, Mr. Robertson and I say it is OK then I will teach you how to use it properly but until then it is for both my and your protection. Do you understand?”

  The teen was still staring at Jacob in shocked silence, knees trembling forcibly. I broke the tension by walking up to the frightened teen. “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Michael,” was the quiet reply with his eyes not leaving Jacob’s pistol, staring at it like two lasers.

  “Well Michael,” I said putting my arm around his shoulders. “You just learned a life lesson. Jacob here is a crack shot, the best I’ve actually ever seen. I suggest you listen exactly to what he has to say and you might just live. He did shoot and trap the lunch that you will be eating today.”

  Marcus and Jacob took the now wild-eyed teens in tow and started showing them how to construct and set lures and traps for small animals. Marcus already had them finding, cutting, notching and sharpening sticks to set up figure four traps.

  “OK,” I announced to the remaining group of four. “That leaves the scroungers. Rule number one is you guys will only scrounge from abandoned cars and places. If I hear of a single theft I will shoot you myself. Top trade items will be prescription drugs, gas, diesel, garden tools, ammunition, pre-1965 silver coins, alcohol and food I imagine you would like to keep for yourself. Anything else that you find we can barter for or you can sell at the trading station we will be setting up down the street. Questions?”

  “What is each item worth?” one of them tentatively asked.

  “That entirely depends on supply and demand,” I replied. “Right now I need diesel, gas and garden tools. Our medium of exchange will be ammunition or eggs. I am not sure how much silver is in circulation but we can work that out in the future. Right now, five gallons of gas or diesel is worth ten rounds of ammunition or two eggs. Each shovel or rake is worth one egg or five rounds. The community meals you can work out with the ladies in the kitchen. Remember that safety is the most important thing. Two of you can work while the other two provide over watch protection. The easiest way to siphon gas is to spike the tank but I’m sure Randy over here can rig you up something faster and easier. Wood smoke, light, garbage and trampled grass are pretty tell-tale signs that a place is occupied. You will also probably learn to tell all the different smells that will signal if a place is occupied or not. DO NOT STEAL under any circumstances.”

  “OK, we have this,” replied one of them without too much confidence. “Is there any way we can get an advance on today’s gas and diesel? We only have 10 rounds of 9 MM between us and you did say safety is first.”

  I laughed and pulled out my two spare Glock clips from my belt. I counted out the thirty rounds of hollow point defense rounds. “OK, you owe me fifteen gallons tonight and let me know what you guys run into out there. Stay off the main roads, scrounging involves as much reconnaissance as looting.”

  After everyone had left, except Randy and me, Ginny walked over and gave me a hug. There was some steel in her arms. “You are doing right by these people Mr. Robertson. They don’t appreciate it now but I am sure they will come winter. It brings back fond memories of times with my parents learning all these lost arts. They are all good people. They won’t let you down.”

  “Please Ginny,” I said in reproach. “My name is James. You are a remarkable woman and between the two of us I’m sure we will pull through. Is there anything you need?”

  “No,” she replied. “I have a little heart arrhythmia but I have a few months’ supply of medication. Other than that, I am as fit as a fiddle.”

  “Well,” I said, “We will get that to the top of the scrounge list then. Do you know who owns the house across the street here?” I asked, pointing at a house with a lush expansive lawn area and surrounding garden.

  Ginny looked over at me with a smile. “That is Angela’s house. The yard crew is here every week with the reel movers. I’ve even seen her husband, who is now incidentally one of your new field hands, putting golf balls on it from time to time. They plug and top dress it every year and fertilize twice a year. I bet that would make the finest garden in the area. Angela!” she yelled with a strong set of lungs. “We need to see you for a minute.”

  Angela came running over while Randy was already at the creek setting up the ram pump drive pipe and water supply pipe. Ginny put her arm around Angela’s shoulders and pointed at her lawn. “I want you to imagine that beautiful green lawn as a beautiful garden chock full of fresh vegetables ready to eat. Can you picture it?”

  Angela laughed. “I would trade it in a second. My husband loves that lawn but he would love food even more right about now.”

  Ginny gave me a nod as I hopped on and started up the tractor and began tilling Angela’s lawn. It was easy tilling as the topsoil was very deep and the grass very fine. It only took an hour to till an acre sized garden. Randy already had the tote set up that was already filling with water and pointed at the irrigation lines. I shook my head so we dropped off a one acre tub of heirloom seeds I had previously bought online, loaded up the tractor and were heading back to the homestead when Adam rode up on a bike.

  “How are you?” he asked with a wave. He had outfitted his bike with a scabbard to hold his shotgun and a handlebar rest if he needed to aim while pedaling.

  “Fantastic!” I replied.

  “Thanks for the extra security,” he said. “I don’t have to feed them, do I?”

  “No,” I replied with a chuckle. “The cul-de-sac neighborhood will take care of it. But I’m sure the group up here needs some fire wood and will trade. Any action at the road block?”

  “No,” said Adam. Just then we heard a gunshot from down the street. I unslung my rifle and Randy, Adam and I proceeded cautiously to the roadblock. There were three guards behind the log barrier with their rifles trained down the street to the East while the fourth was watching the other direction in case it was a diversionary attack.

  “Report!” said Adam walking up to one of the guards.

  One of the new guards turned to us and said, “Two riders were approaching. We yelled at them to stop but they kept coming. One of them had a handgun pointed toward the barricade so I fired a warning shot. They both fell off their bikes and hightailed it in the other direction.”

  “Good job,” I said. “Next time no warning shot. Let’s put a sign down the road so people can read it saying “Walkers only, proceed with your hands outstretched or you will be fired upon” or stick a few white flags down there that people can wave. Our neighborhood is now closed. Maybe we can also rig up a bell down here for you guys. One ring means people approaching. Three rings means shots fired and continuous rings means the shit has hit the fan and help is needed right now.”

  I saw Miriam at the end of Adam’s driveway toting her shotgun, looking toward the barricade. She waved and said Mary’s arm was feeling much better and thanked me for the help. I walked with Adam to the bottom of my street.

  “How are you holding up?” I asked him.

  “We are doing OK,” he replied with confidence. “I took a couple of deer a few days ago, the water works and we have a black barrel on the roof making hot water. Things could be a lot worse but winter is coming. The migration seems to have ended but food is on everyone’s mind and there are plenty of people out looking for it. There is a group of escaped convicts from the women’s prison holed up in Kopachuck State Park and we seem to be on the direct path between there and the City. We have heard rumors of a gang that took over the Rosedale gardens and all the plants there. We also see a lot of people with fishing poles heading down t
o Wollocet Bay. We have heard of a group of bikers up in Key Penninsula that are consolidating everything west of the spit and are actually forcing anyone who won’t work for them or join their army to cross the spit out of town. They have formed chain gangs for all the able bodies to work the farms up there and all of the bars up in Key Peninsula are now brothels where they pimp out anyone wanting to work there. There is also a group up by the grange that has blocked the main road to the City from Fox Island that is demanding tolls from anyone using the road.”

  “If you need anything Adam, please don’t hesitate to ask,” I told him. “I always need more wood and we are looking at clearing some of Amy’s five acres to plant in the spring.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” said Adam. “I am not looking for charity but really appreciate you taking care of the girls up at your school and looking out for the neighborhood. We would be in deep trouble if it was everyone for themselves like all the other neighborhoods we are hearing about are doing.”

  I knew it would only be a matter of time before people start to get more desperate as their pantries run dry and realize there is no more food to be had. It is now almost three weeks and the reality of the situation might finally be hitting home.

  “We are eventually going to have to start reaching out to our adjoining neighborhoods to see if any of them are organized. It looks like there are two other barricades on this street, one from the toll takers and the other from the State Park women. Right now they are helping keep us safe and that is our priority even if they could be potential future problems. Hey, is that the scrounge team I see down by your place?” I asked, identifying the group of four who I trade gas with.

  “Well yes,” Adam replied with a smile. “I trade hot showers for the first shot at any loot they bring in. We compare notes on safety concerns while my wife and Miriam have been known to launder their clothes for a small fee. The scroungers say about fifty percent of the houses in a five mile radius are empty. They are staying safe. They are calling their point man “Lucky Lew,” he is their door knocker. He has managed to only take one shell of birdshot in his ass that he had patched up by a nurse up the street. They started with a wheelbarrow but now have a couple of four wheelers and flatbeds that they haul their loot in. They have been asking about opening safes but they haven’t found a safe cracker yet. They can open the small three by three Costco fire safes with a metal wedge and sledgehammer but the gun safes are beyond their skill. They say the worst problem is a pack of feral dogs that is forming up by Artondale Elementary school. It seems a lot of people just let their dogs go when they ran out of dog food. We shoot every dog we see down here at the barricade and add them to the forever soup pot we keep running down here for the guards, figuring it is the best for everyone long term. If these dogs start getting the taste for people then we could have a big problem since there used to be as many dogs as people around here. Your friend Mr. Jones was found stabbed and tortured down by the grange. There have been some people in the area that have asked to join our neighborhood and one of our guards that signed on lives three blocks outside the barricade, he works the day shift for a meal but has to get back home to keep it safe in the evening. What do you think about moving the abatis down?”