Breckinridge Valley: Surviving the Black--Book 1 of a Post-Apocalyptical series

by Zack Finley

  I needed an outlet to release the nervous energy I was accumulating. After my guard stint, I went to the wood lot to split firewood. Most of the valley was already using at least one wood stove to stave off the winter chill. While we already had a lot of split wood set aside for the winter, you couldn’t split too much wood.

  A runner came to get me sometime mid-afternoon. I didn’t recognize the boy, but he knew who I was. Before I could ask his name, he was off on his next errand. My dad was back and called a command meeting.

  There were a lot more people gathered in dad’s dining room than for an ordinary command meeting. No one objected to the tight quarters as everyone was eager for information.

  “No one knows anything,” my dad began. “Even the emergency broadcast system isn’t working. Sheriff Lewis is more in the dark than we are. Sometime last night the soldiers guarding the gas stations left without a word, so we don’t know what the National Guard knows. Sheriff Lewis wants to deputize as many from the valley as we want. He didn’t have badges but gave us notes on official letterhead. We arranged for Jerry Hill to jackknife one of his big rigs across TN 297 near the top of the grade on the east side. It blocked the whole road. Locals know how to get around it, but it should keep refugees from the interstate from coming this way.”

  This was welcome news.

  My dad continued, “Sheriff Lewis won’t agree to block US 27 to the south yet. He sent a deputy to Oneida, and they have the road blocked there from the north. Sheriff Lewis is worried about things in the southern part of the county. He has a couple of deputies who live down there but hasn’t heard from them since the lights went off. Jerry agreed to position trailers across the roads on TN 52 near Elgin, and on US 27 near the Morgan County line. He just needs Sheriff Lewis to give the okay.”

  “I know, I know,” my dad held up his hand, “Sheriff Lewis still thinks this will be over in a week. The county mayor wasn’t pleased about blocking the roads without direction from someone higher. He runs for re-election next year and is worried about the fallout. The good news is they did agree to ask local churches and fire departments to distribute the refrigerated and frozen foods from the various stores before it spoils. They plan to use the middle school kitchen to prepare the meals. It has a nice sized solar system, and it will be opening as a shelter. Sheriff Lewis supplied several kerosene heaters to heat the gym. There are a few people out and about, though most are just checking on relatives or looking for information. Last night a few broke into local stores to help themselves to booze. Deputies picked the miscreants up and dumped them over the county line. Sheriff Lewis told them if they caused any more trouble they’d be shot.”

  This caused a reaction from those gathered.

  “I don’t think Sheriff Lewis meant it, yet,” my dad continued. “But right now, the Huntsville area is quiet. It sounds like Oneida is a little tense. Our Huntsville crew intends to get deputized and help Sheriff Lewis spread the word on food and shelter. I told them to work in pairs using the electric motorcycles. I want us all conserving fuel until we learn more. With the power out no one is pumping fuel, except the sheriff. He put a generator at the county fuel depot, with a guard.”

  Several of those gathered offered to help at the shelter, but my dad discouraged them. “Let’s see how they get organized. The Huntsville crew will be helping out. I’d rather keep our valley forces right here. We don’t intend to let the seniors starve,” he assured the group. “But we need for others to step up and take some responsibility, too. So far it looks promising. Since nobody has a job to go to, there is plenty of able-bodied help out there. I’m still worried people may snap. For now, everyone here has chores, and Jeremy will be designating a rapid response force, just in case.”

  I stood up. “I’m implementing Force Beta effective immediately. If you are in it, you know it. Everyone else, 18 or older with a marksman qualification is a member of the security force and will be issued a weapon and assigned a guard rotation. You will also get a muster location, for a valley emergency. We will be testing the valley siren this afternoon, for those who haven’t heard it in a while.”

  I was relieved when my mom slipped me a printout with a list of names titled Marksmen.

  My mom stood up to talk. “Starting tomorrow we will be opening the large kitchen and serving area for communal meals. Everyone should check the master list for your assigned chores. The other list is things that need doing but need a volunteer. If you have the time, please help with these tasks. I know a lot of re-billeting is going on, so I wanted to give everyone time to get settled in. Others have security assignments. If the emergency continues, we will begin cross-training. The kids have 10 hours of assignments each day, in part to keep them busy. I’m expecting the adults to at least do that much.”

  Ten members of Force Beta were now in the valley, the rest were in Huntsville. All were trained Rangers and formed our quick reaction force. Each carried their favorite weapon. I was an M4 man, but others were happier with the heavier firepower they got with the MK 17 SCAR carbine. There was plenty of ammo for both. Craig carried the MK 17 SCAR with the long barrel when he wasn’t in a sniper’s nest.

  I briefed Force Beta at the guardhouse at the entrance to the valley. From now on everyone would wear body armor and carry their weapons with a light load of ammo. There was a fully stocked ammo locker at the guardhouse.

  We decided to distribute the new armor. Having arms and armor would allow us to assemble quickly, given an alarm. Our radios were still useless so we’d either use a runner or set off the valley alarm to assemble.

  I told them if we responded to something in town, we’d take our armored Humvees. The Ma Deuces weren’t exactly illegal in Tennessee, but I really didn’t want to advertise them, either. The Hummers were loaded with ammo, a tactical first aid kit, and enough food and water for several days. Both had an electric motorcycle strapped to the back. The bike could be charged by the Hummer’s engine or from the bike’s backpack solar charger. The motorcycle was equipped with a double battery and could get about 200 miles before requiring a recharge.

  Zeke was the designated armorer for our crew. He handed out weapons and the new sets of armor. Most of us carried concealed weapons, but a few needed pistols. We mainly stocked M9 Berettas with 15 round clips. Zeke stocked some specialty suppressed pistols we weren’t ready to hand out quite yet since they were at the edge of illegal. We also stocked some pistols built for smaller hands, but the Beretta was our mainstay, although some swore by their Glocks. The Beretta had served me well. Zeke stocked a lot more variety since we brought in all the inventory from his store.

  I was doing pretty well until one of my guys asked when we expected the threat to get real.

  I fell into a trap. Thinking these were my neighbors, not ISIS. The Mecklin River bridge was wide open.

  “Guys, I had a brain fart,” I said, calling them back together. “We need to mount the locked gate on the far side of the bridge, stat. Set up those light poles for the spotlights at the far end of the bridge. We’ll park the two Hummers on this side of the bridge, and we’ll go to a two-man guard rotation, with one of you on at all times. We will start with four-hour tours.”

  “Now you are talking, boss,” said my original critic.

  “We’ll cover the turrets and the Ma Deuces with tarps, but that shouldn’t slow anyone down,” I continued, acknowledging I was in the wrong. “Check out whoever is on guard duty with you on the Hummer before making your relief. Sound the valley alert if you see something suspicious, and we’ll come running. If you need to shoot, stop any vehicles, but avoid inflicting casualties unless they fire first. It could just be a curious neighbor or one of our people. Try talking using the loudspeaker on the Hummer before you shoot, please. Remember we still don’t know how bad the national situation is. We can afford to buy someone a vehicle, people not so much.”

  My guys worked under even worse rules of engagement before, I knew I could count on them to react appropriately.r />
  Years ago, we bored holes for a gate into the county roadbed. They were capped, so most people never noticed. Today the guys erected the gate and locked it with a stout lock. It was possible a large pickup could break through the gate, but I doubted it would survive the encounter. Someone could cut the lock, but it would take a long time.

  We already installed a conduit along the side of the bridge, anticipating the need for lights and security. Today we set up the light stanchions. They could be turned on from the guardhouse or by motion sensors. They were electricity hogs, so we only wanted to turn them on if they were needed.

  Our rooftop solar and solar farm batteries provided enough night-time power for modest lighting, refrigerators, and freezers, plus a few extras. We tried to limit the extras, so we didn’t draw down the batteries. Daytime solar production this time of year was enough to power a similar load plus recharge the batteries most days. Some summer days, we produced a lot more power than we used. Before the grid went down that wasn’t a problem, we just sold it to the Co-Op. Next summer we’d have to plan our electrical usage around production.

  The valley siren test surprised a lot of folks. It allowed us to emphasize what actions were expected. Those with a security assignment reported to the guardhouse. All others sheltered-in-place, locking doors and shutters until the all clear. Every location maintained an emergency box containing weapons, ammo and first aid supplies in its safe room. Once the radios were working again, we’d provide updates.

  Before dusk, two men on electric motorcycles approached the gate. They parked their bikes and kept their hand’s up as they approached the guardhouse. They’d come with an update from Huntsville and were surprised at the tighter security for the valley.

  A runner found me in the armory talking with Zeke. I trotted to the guardhouse to hear what they had to say. My dad arrived a few minutes later.

  “Most everyone moved from senior housing to the middle school gym,” Matt said. “We even moved the seniors’ beds. There are a few holdouts but another chilly night and they will join the rest. Several school cafeteria workers showed up to help make meals along with a lot of volunteers from various churches. There was room in the cafeteria chillers for a lot of the food brought in from the stores. Sheriff Lewis sent a generator over to keep everything refrigerated. The big problem is lack of water. So far, they are using disposable plates and utensils, that can’t last though. There are a few cots set up, but so far, no one is using them. Quite a few people are sleeping at home but eating in the cafeteria. Several others dropped by the various stores looking for milk and bottled water. We even had a few riding horseback. Most people are keeping their cars and trucks parked. Those driving to the school for food are carpooling. The sheriff has authorized the senior center van as a shuttle. The mood is good. Most people are treating this as an unplanned holiday.”

  “Water is going to become a critical problem,” I said. “Is anyone addressing this?”

  “The fire chief and sheriff went over to talk with the water plant. They can’t treat the water, but they could pressurize the system once or twice a day using generators. The water plant guys are adamant they won’t do that unless Sheriff Lewis can guarantee no one will drink the water without boiling it first,” Matt said. “We are lucky the middle school ball fields still have a well. They are using that to wash the pots and pans.”

  “Is the natural gas system still up?” I asked. “How are they cooking?”

  “It worked at first, but the pressure is now too low, they are using camp stoves and outdoor grills,” Matt said. At my look of alarm, he added, “They are using them outside on the patio. The fire department insisted. Our guys spent much of the day letting people know about the food at the middle school, telling them to boil their water, and to turn off their natural gas. We got some orange firefighter vests for everyone who is moving around. Even with three teams we still have half the town to visit, tomorrow. We are helping get the word out since the volunteer firefighters took charge of the food distribution. Their trucks are fuel hogs, so we figured we could do the notification better.”

  “Do you need another team from the valley?” I asked.

  “Wouldn’t hurt,” Matt said.

  I told two men to get ninjas and return with Matt. He provided several orange vests for the rest of us.

  While they were getting ready, Matt lowered his voice saying, “I think the sheriff may be ready for Jerry to place those roadblocks.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I’m told there was a pretty tense confrontation at the west-side roadblock,” Matt said. “Some yahoos in a souped-up pickup truck tried to get through. The deputy was lucky. Sheriff Lewis arrived with help while it was going on. The deputies were pretty sure the yahoos were armed. The bad guys backed off right away when the sheriff showed up. It might have been a different story if they got the drop on that deputy. The sheriff now has two men stationed on the roadblock. I suspect he’ll ask Jerry Hill to put those trailers in place in the morning.”

  My rapid response force was down to eight, but I thought it was worth it.

  Melissa came to drag me to my mom’s for dinner. I fake-raced Melissa all the way back, pushing her to run the whole way. I was glad to see she was only a little winded when we burst into my mom’s kitchen. We were both put to work, but only after we washed our hands. My sister, Alice, and her oldest girl were in charge of tonight’s dinner. They made sure we did our part.

  My mom’s house was bursting at the seams. The place resembled Thanksgiving Dinner, with an adult’s table and a kid’s table. An odd mishmash of chairs was jammed around the table. Not much elbow room. Despite that, or maybe even because of it, there was a festive air to the meal.

  Alice received accolades for her cooking. I listened with one ear to the kid’s table where her kids were describing how much fun today was. Melissa was her cheery self, but Jennifer was unusually quiet. I needed to sit with her after Melissa went to bed.

  I checked with my parents, but both were at ease. I knew my mom was thrilled all her chicks were in the nest. Steve and Mandy were still in Huntsville, but their three kids were staying with my mom and dad. Joe, Steve’s oldest, was 16 and I knew both my parents spent time today helping him understand what was going on. Ellie was the same age as Jennifer and was not adjusting well to life in the valley, based on her complaints. I suspected my mom was already dealing with this. Billy, Steve’s youngest at 11, was a cheerful boy. He and Melissa were great friends. He loved spending time at the valley and was always asking me to take him hunting.

  My girls and I helped clean up and then ambled home. The aurora borealis was so bright we didn’t need a flashlight. The girls didn’t believe my explanation and Jennifer told me she intended to Google it to prove I was wrong. I didn’t say anything. She cratered as she realized there was no more internet. I knelt down and wrapped them both tightly against me with Jennifer sobbing. Melissa and I were both trying to comfort her. It didn’t help that I was in battle armor and carrying my Beretta and M4.

  Even 13-year-old tears run out eventually. We were lucky Melissa had a paper towel in her pocket to handle the drips.

  I put my carbine in the rack next to the door and sat down on the couch, cuddling my two girls. To no great surprise, Melissa fell asleep nearly immediately. I told Jennifer I’d be right back and carried Melissa to bed.

  When I got back to the family room, Jennifer was sitting with her feet on the couch and her arms wrapped around her knees.

  “Honey, do you want to talk?” I asked.

  “Why do these things keep happening?” she asked. “First mom and now this.”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “Sometimes bad things happen to good people.”

  “It’s too hard,” she sobbed.

  I slid beside her and wrapped one arm around her. “Yes, it is,” I answered. “It isn’t fair. All we can do is love one another and help each other through the bad things.”

  “Will
things get better?” she asked.

  “I don’t know if we will ever get back to how we were. That is out of our hands,” I said. We still don’t know how widespread the problem is. I hope it will get better right away, but we have to do what we can just in case it doesn’t.”

  “Are people trying to hurt us?” Jennifer asked. “Is that why you are carrying a rifle and wearing armor?”

  “So far no one has tried to hurt us,” I answered carefully. “But times like this sometimes make people crazy. Some people may not take their medications and become violent. Crooks may take advantage of the situation. There are bad people out there who don’t play by the rules. If this problem goes on a long time, even good people can get desperate and break the rules. Our job is to keep this valley safe even if that happens.”

  “Will you kill people?” she asked.

  “I won’t hesitate if they try to hurt you or someone else under our protection,” I said.

  “Good,” she said. “Would you carry me to bed, too?” Jennifer asked.