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

by Zack Finley

  I wasn’t the only Ranger who learned they were out of shape. I tried to tell myself I was still in prime condition, but morning calisthenics showed me differently.

  Force Gamma asked Zeke for a class on weapon maintenance, he scheduled it for after hours, and everyone took part. Craig taught a sniper class and Tom a combat medic class. We were even starting to get routine work details together, sometimes clearing brush, mucking stables, or splitting wood. This quiet period came to an end in early December.

  A runner from the radio hut came and got me just after noon but before supper. I was helping our rabbit farmer repair some hutches.

  I knew it was serious when I saw my mom and dad waiting for me in the radio hut.

  Sally started the discussion, “The middle school has been silent for two days. Today none of the normal people who check in on Channel 20 at noon were on the radio. Something has definitely happened to the middle school, whether it is bigger than that I don’t know.”

  “Has the middle school failed to check in at noon before?” I asked.

  “No,” said Sally. “They’ve been chattering all week about preparations for a special Christmas dinner. There has been a lot of friendly discussion from the rest of the CB group, until now.”

  My mind was already laying out the mission. I couldn’t keep Buzzer and Matt from coming although I was worried about their reaction depending upon what we discovered. We might need a medic, so Tom needed to come. Craig on overwatch would round out the team. I decided stealth was more important than speed, so we’d be on foot.

  I sent the runner to notify my team to meet me at the café for supper to prep for a sortie.

  I turned to my folks, “We need to know what happened,” I said.

  “Their radio could be broken,” my mom offered.

  “You don’t think that,” I said. “Whatever happened, this is not good news.”

  “Be careful,” my dad said. “They weren’t a tough target, but they did have several assault rifles. If there was a shootout, we’d have heard the noise.”

  “We’ll be prepared to stay out for two nights,” I said. “It will depend on what we find. We need to assess the possible threat and neutralize it. We’ll come in for additional manpower if we need it. I’ll coordinate the communication protocols with Sally so we can keep you apprised. We’ll carry a handheld CB for communications with the base. I’ll also assign four members of Force Beta to FOB Echo for the duration with an armed Humvee. They’ll be our QRF. The rest will be on alert. Advise Roger we may pull on Force Gamma if needed.”

  My folks stayed behind to talk with Sally, and I trotted home to get my pack.

  Supper was another helping of thick pork stew, a corn tortilla, and an apple. I was still drinking coffee when it was available. None of the herbal teas interested me, so far. If coffee wasn’t available, I usually just drank some hot water.

  Matt and Buzzer thanked me for having them come on this trip before they left to get their gear. Tom went to alert Dr. Jerrod of possible civilian casualties. We all agreed to meet at the armory at 16:00 hours. Craig and I discussed the mission. He left to choose his weapons.

  I briefed the rest of Force Bravo about the upcoming mission, while they finished supper. I chose the four men for the QRF. Zeke and Scott left to open the armory. While Matt and Buzzer were closer to the middle school group, the rest of the team knew them too. There was a definite overlay of anger in the air.

  The QRF gave us a lift to FOB echo in the Humvee with one of the Ma Deuces. They also brought several of the LAWs we confiscated from the Lloyd Mountain Militia.

  I was glad we’d all been working out, it made it easier to handle full packs and armor. It was going to be dark soon, and we needed our NVGs shortly after setting out. The cover of darkness should let us travel using the roads and avoid any active residences.

  We only spotted two residences with smoke coming from the chimney on the way to the middle school. I marked them on my map. It wasn’t clear whether people were consolidating into fewer and fewer locations, or whether attrition was at work. All I knew for sure was there were a lot fewer places with people living in them. Those living in the two homes we saw had stacked logs in front of the walls to provide better bullet stops. Each ground floor window was boarded up. While I approved of the changes, I wondered whether they were attacked or were just being cautious. I certainly wasn’t going to approach them without an invitation to ask.

  Huntsville was becoming a ghost town even without being invaded by people displaced from the cities. It made me wonder about the fate of those in the more crowded venues. Not enough to go check on them, mind you. Keeping our heads down seemed a much smarter plan, even if we were technically violating that by going out to check on the middle school. It was always a challenge to balance gathering intel with staying out of trouble.

  We needed to know if there was a new threat before it came into the valley.

  It was now completely dark. Walking through Huntsville without seeing a glimmer of light was eerie. We avoided the main roads, but I still would have expected to see some sign of life. No matter how things went tonight, I decided we needed to keep closer tabs on what was going on in Huntsville.

  The absence of life near the middle school was disheartening. When we left them only a few weeks ago, a nascent community watch was forming. Now, while we spotted smoke coming from about four chimneys, the rest of the area was still and cold. Checks using thermal sights confirmed most of the houses were empty. Some showed signs of being dismantled for firewood.

  We carefully avoided the inhabited dwellings and felt we were unobserved when we arrived at the middle school.

  The main doors were open, and no one was in any of the areas the seniors lived in. It looked like the residents just walked away. The doors to the refrigerator and freezer were wide open, and there was no food. The residents just left. Most of their coats and jackets were still in the dorm area. The more damning sign that they didn’t go willingly was the scorched and congealed pot of stew sitting on one of the wood stoves. If they were planning to move, I was sure they would have eaten it before going.

  The radio was missing, and we didn’t find any of the assault rifles or ammo we left there. There was no sign of shots fired or foul play, just the absence of life.

  “They weren’t worried about the people who came,” Buzzer told me. “There is no way Jimmie would have let them come in, otherwise.”

  “They might have come in and gotten the drop on the group,” I said.

  “No, Jimmie is paranoid. He has PTSD from Vietnam. He would have shot anyone trying to take his gun unless he knew them,” said Matt. “If they were going to leave, they’d have used the vehicles we scrounged up for them parked in the back.”

  We let FOB Echo know we were staying the night and hunkered down to wait for first light when we could approach the nearest neighbors.

  Matt and Buzzer knew the neighbors best, so I charged them with making contact with them, preferably without bloodshed. Before we settled in for the night, they drafted a note and left it on a neighbor’s porch with an MRE as a peace offering.

  They scrounged up a dirty white rag, and we waited for daylight.

  It was an uncomfortable night, only in part because of the sleeping conditions. Everyone took a two-hour shift keeping watch on the roof. The rest of us slept fitfully in an abandoned room near the roof exit. We got up before dawn and melted into the nearby woods to await the sunrise. Before we left the middle school, Craig disconnected the solar system and removed a few key parts, which he hid in a locker. I nearly objected but decided he was probably right. I suspected we’d be back to scavenge the solar panels and batteries.

  Whatever Matt and Buzzer put in the note must have worked because it took only a few minutes for us to be face to face with one of the men they fought beside against the Lloyd Mountain Militia. I was sure there were people inside the house covering him, but we were keeping watch over Matt and Buzzer, too. Buzzer st
ayed with the man while Matt ran over to tell the rest of us what he learned.

  “The sheriff’s deputies came two days ago and emptied the middle school,” said Matt. “First, they marched the residents out to the prisoner bus at gunpoint. A few of the residents were hurt and being helped by friends. At first, our contact thought the deputies were rescuing them, taking them to the jail for their own safety. He decided that wasn’t likely when the bus drove off in the other direction, toward the Oneida road. Soon after the bus left, a truck showed up, and the deputies started hauling food and supplies from the school out to it. Our contact considered asking them what was going on, but the deputies were armed to the teeth. They acted like they expected an attack. It didn’t take them long to load up, and they left. Our contact says the bus returned about an hour later. It didn’t stop, and the bus looked empty.”

  While I hoped this just meant the people were resettled in a better facility, I feared the worst. I remembered the sheriff took the jail inmates to the Tennessee border and released them before the crash. I feared this might be worse. I got the impression from the look on Matt’s face that he shared my fears.

  When Buzzer joined us, he added one bit of gossip. There was a rumor the deputies were now demanding survivors pay them food to provide protection services.

  We pulled out of the area and huddled. I needed to alert the valley but was reluctant, even coded, to transmit it over the CB radio. We needed to get closer to FOB Echo to reach them with our encrypted communications. Since I was about to declare war on the deputies, I decided I owed it to my dad to consult him first.

  We traveled the secondary streets, keeping to the edges and skirting any building with smoke coming from the chimney. I expected dogs to be a problem, but they were either being kept indoors or were now a food source.

  When we got close enough to FOB Echo, I briefed them on our findings and that we were headed in.

  I didn’t know all the deputies, but the few I met seemed honorable enough. I could understand asking for payments in exchange for protection, but that didn’t explain what happened at the middle school.

  I wanted a way to preserve the peace at least until I knew for sure the deputies were behaving like raiders. It also occurred to me that all the deputies might not support the new policy. I feared if we eliminated the sheriff’s office, we were obliged to step in and take on a protective role outside the valley. Of course, we could just leave the sheriff alone. But that was just not in my DNA.

  No good options came to mind. While in many ways it was like dealing with the Lloyd Mountain Militia, all over again, it was seriously different. For some reason, I was reluctant to shed this next layer of civilization. What was the next step? Deputies were supposed to be the “good guys.” If we knocked them out, we’d be the outlaws. Not a step I was ready to take without more proof.

  When we got back to FOB Echo, we all piled into their Humvee and rode back into the valley. I was tempted to leave FOB Echo manned, but I couldn’t really justify it. My dad sent word to meet in the cafeteria for a debrief.

  I asked Matt and Buzzer to come to the briefing as they spoke with the contact directly and knew the middle school group the best. I sent everyone else off to prepare for action, either to clean their gear or take a nap.

  I got a cup of coffee and we staked out a large table at the edge of the café. Buzzer was tending his knife. He “sharpened” his knife whenever he waited. We teased him about it, knowing the blade would have been ground down to a stub if he was actually sharpening it most of the time. That said, if I needed a sharp knife, I knew who’s I’d borrow. My knife was plenty sharp, but I knew you could shave with Buzzer’s. He never said where he got the knife, but we suspected he took it away from someone who tried to kill him with it.

  Matt just snoozed, while he waited. I envied him. The higher in rank I moved the harder I found it to rest when the opportunity presented itself.

  The cafeteria was mostly empty, it was still a few hours until supper, and the breakfast mess was already cleaned up. The kitchen staff was plenty busy, but that didn’t spill out into the café very much.

  There was actually a construction project going on near the entrance. Steve stopped in to talk with them before joining me.

  “What are they building?” I asked.

  “We’ve decided we need more hot water,” Steve said. “For cleaning dishes and showers. We found a large wood-fired hot water heater system in storage that we are installing here. Once we get it up and working the guys will put in two shower rooms with six shower heads each. I hate using the concrete, but I just have to look at our house to know we really need them. Once cleanup from supper is over, people can use the hot water for showering. I think we are going to start without any regulation, but if people don’t play nice, we will have to hand out shower chits. In the summer, the solar water heater should be able to keep up, but it’s impossible in the winter. I can’t imagine how those old codgers went all winter without a shower.”

  I only sipped half my coffee by the time my dad, Roger, my mom, and members of my dad’s governing council joined us.

  “Jeremy, tell everyone what you learned,” my dad started.

  I summarized why we went out on the mission and what we learned and saw. I could tell it was news to some and not to others.

  My dad shocked me. “I’m not really surprised to hear this. When Sheriff Lewis started drinking, I hoped one of his sergeants would step up. When I learned Deputy Allen assumed command, I knew we would have trouble. Allen was one of the few deputies my pa kept a dossier on. They wouldn’t take Allen into the state troopers, and he was never going to be promoted to sergeant or detective in this county. He was just waiting to retire at nearly full pay. Most of the time Allen was assigned as a court bailiff. The sheriff before Lewis tried to fire him but Allen is a weasel, and he strung it out so long the sheriff gave up. I suspect the old sheriff warned Lewis because Lewis never tried, he just made sure Allen wasn’t assigned to work with any new people.”

  “I wondered why we weren’t working so closely with the cops, anymore,” Roger said.

  “Yeah, I was worried Allen would double cross us and didn’t want to risk it,” dad said. “Allen may not know I’m aware of his history, but there was no reason to give him an opportunity to hurt us.”

  “Do you think they killed the middle school group?” Buzzer asked.

  “No, but I bet they dumped them somewhere north of here with no food, and it sounds like without their winter coats, food or weapons,” dad said. “We won’t find them unless we learn where they were left.”

  “I’m not happy they dumped those civilians and stole their food from them,” said one of Roger’s lieutenants, “But, is that a reason to take them on now?”

  “I don’t have a problem with the deputies asking for food in exchange for protection,” said another of Roger’s cronies, “I have a problem if the only protection they actually provide is from themselves.”

  Nearly everyone shared their thoughts and opinions. Most thought we should detain a deputy and quiz him. What we did with him afterward was not as well thought out. Everyone agreed that warning the deputies that we considered them a threat to the citizenry was ill-advised.

  No one thought the threat could be ignored.

  My dad thanked everyone for their input and sent everyone off but me, my mom, and Roger.

  “You surprised me,” I offered, once the group cleared out. “I thought it was odd we were suddenly no longer joined at the hip with the sheriff’s department, but figured that was more about discovering civilization collapsed worldwide.”

  “Yeah, I should have told you about Allen. Pops thought he was a stone-cold killer,” dad said. “Pops didn’t have any courtroom-type proof, but if you were willing to pay to make someone dead, Allen would arrange something. Pops was sure he was a top guy in the meth distribution for the county.”

  “What do you want to do,” Roger asked my dad.

  “I rea
lly wanted to get through the winter without dealing with this,” said my dad. “I’m worried we won’t have any neighbors left by then if we don’t do something. Allen is a low life, he won’t come after us unless he knows he can win. I bet he is working some deal with the Oneida cops, though I can’t imagine what leverage he has. Sheriff Lewis screwed Allen’s plan when he gave the collected food to the middle school and didn’t bring it into the jail. They are probably starting to feel hungry, and I doubt Allen or his ilk expect to plant crops in the spring. They are takers, not doers.”

  It was up to Force Beta. I knew it, and they knew it.

  “If they are stuck inside the jail, they won’t be causing problems in the community,” I said. “I’d like to shut off their power and keep them confined. Unfortunately, that means the whole problem could be a manpower drag on us for months.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it, son,” my dad said. “Allen is a ruthless man. I don’t see him letting people stay in his compound eating his food unless they are providing services he values. He’ll start kicking people out of the nest. If you can put him in the dark, steal his vehicles, and isolate him, that should neutralize him until his food runs out. Even then expect him to have some kind of golden parachute.”