Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 2): Fractured Paradise

by Wohlrab, Jeff

  That got Daniel’s attention. What did Jensen know about this guy that made him think he could have killed them all single-handedly to rescue his compatriots if he’d decided to do so? Daniel thought about how the man had silently been almost beside him in their own Humvee, just below a loaded machine gun in an armored turret. He went a little bit cold inside. Maybe he was right.

  Aaron said, “Don’t worry, you checked out. You’ll be fine.” He turned to the rest of the group. “I scouted this entire area. I like the terrain. I like the power, the water supply, and the approaches. It’s a good place to be. Your nearest neighbor is over a mile away up the road.” He then eyed Daniel and Jensen. “The only thing I don’t like is that you let one of those kidnappers get away.”

  That shocked both men into silence. Daniel was the first to respond. “What do you mean? Jensen killed all of the ones that tried to come up here and I killed the ones down on the road.”

  Aaron shook his head. “Nope, someone from down on the road survived. It looks like you dropped a grenade on them, but there was only one body. Somebody walked away. They were hurt, but they walked away.” He focused on Daniel because he’d been the one to ask. “He went toward the west and then circled back along the road. Probably took one of the cars you left down there.”

  That made them all uneasy. Once again, Jensen kicked himself for not noticing a missing car when they drove past. The truck with the trailer had still been there, but a couple of the cars had been left on the road. There simply weren’t enough survivors left to take them all, so the most obviously damaged vehicles had been left behind.

  Someone who had already attacked them once had been injured and managed to escape in one of them. He’d probably be back. He certainly wouldn’t be alone. Retribution was one thing that brought out the worst in people. Those men had been in the wrong, but their group, if they had a group, would want to retaliate. It was simply human nature to want to enact revenge.

  “You also don’t have enough shelter,” Aaron informed them. “I’ve got some ideas about that.” If he thought he had everyone’s attention before, this really got everyone to focus on his next words. “There are a couple of cabins around that could be utilized as they are, but that spreads you out and makes the mountain less defensible.” That made sense. Apart, it would be harder for them to come to a common defense.

  “There are three more options that seem plausible, but I’ll need Brent’s input. First, we could tear those cabins down and rebuild them here. Second, we could try to build cabins using raw materials from the mountain. Third we could pull some shipping containers up here for shelter.”

  Brent leaned forward. “I see problems with all three of those. Let’s start with number one. If we tear down cabins to move them, we’ll risk damaging the materials during disassembly. We’ll still have to transport them, and we have no way to lay a foundation. We certainly won’t be able to use anything more than a single story in height.”

  The construction expert continued. “Building out of raw materials will be tough. We only have axes to cut down trees. It would take dozens to try to put together our own cabin. It would take us months, and we’d have to keep adding mortar as the logs shrink due to desiccation. We’d still probably run into foundation problems.

  “The third option is tempting, but we have no way of getting shipping containers. I think the nearest port is probably down by Savannah, which would mean traveling all the way down there, hoping it hadn’t been nuked, probably fighting more bandits, and then figuring out a way to get them back here. I don’t see it happening.”

  Aaron smiled. “What if they were only a few miles away?”

  Brent sat forward a little further. “What do you mean?”

  Aaron replied, “What if there was a train stopped on the Norfolk Southern line just south of Clarkesville that was carrying close to one hundred shipping containers? Because there is.”

  Chapter 13

  Jensen winced a little bit as they passed the sign for North Georgia Technical College. He instinctively looked to his right, as though he’d see Todd there. He wasn’t sure if he was expecting live Todd, dead Todd, or Todd in a body bag, the way he’d last seen him. But he only saw Sheila, no ghosts, no Todd, not even blood. She was idly playing with the set of huge bolt cutters they’d brought along.

  Behind him, Aaron was in his small electric sports car with Emmy, and behind them were Daniel and Brent in the multicam tub. They were towing the open trailer, which had some battery-operated tools, a couple block and tackle sets, chains, cables, some metal hitches, and two pairs of axles they’d cobbled together from trailer parts they’d salvaged from nearby farms.

  The remainder of the crew was back at camp pulling security detail and trying to level off areas in which to place containers if they were able to retrieve any. If this trip failed, they could still attempt either of the other two plans. Several of them had lobbied for the idea of tearing down other cabins and rebuilding them on site instead, but Brent had reasoned with them. “If nothing else, this will give us immediate shelter while we try to build foundations and rebuild the cabins. That will take months, maybe years to do. If we get the cabins finished, we can use these for secure storage.”

  The leaves and pine needles spread across the road were another reminder about just how bad things had gotten. Before, there would have been enough traffic to keep the roads clear. Now, the wind blew leaves and branches onto the roadways and they stayed. There was some evidence that cars had been by this way, but they were on a divided highway that resembled a little-used logging road. There were still people around, but they seemed to be just as much in hiding as their group.

  Jessica had lobbied strongly to come along on this expedition. She was sick of being left back at camp while Jensen and Daniel went off with a few others to do ‘hero work’ as she called it. In the end, she had lost. The potentially for injury while trying to move the multi-ton containers was extremely high, so Sheila was along. They didn’t know what they’d find in the containers, so Emmy went in hopes of finding something that could be used for crops. Brent was along because he was the only one with construction experience and would be the one to try to assemble the makeshift trailers. Aaron was the only one who knew where the containers were.

  When they promised to bring her along on the second run, she seemed somewhat mollified. They intended to bring back as many as they could. Not only could they provide immediate shelter and storage, but Jensen hoped to set at least one up as a ‘cadillac,’ which was what he called the containerized units he’d used for showers and bathrooms when he was forward deployed at some locations. Their single bathroom simply wasn’t enough for almost a dozen of them.

  “Canada, this is Baker. Start looking for a sign that says Rock Road on your right. We’ll be turning there.” Baker was Chief Wingler, the ex-Special Forces member of their team. Unlike Daniel, who was stuck with the name Black Widow, the Chief had gotten to pick his own name. Nobody was going to argue with him.

  Jensen slowed for the road and turned right from the divided highway onto a two-lane road. Once on Rock Road, Aaron keyed his handheld radio again. “Now you’re going to turn left onto Dick’s Hill road.”

  Almost immediately, Daniel broke onto the channel. “I’m sorry, did you just say Dick’s Hill?” Jensen snorted; he’d expect nothing less. A few moments later, Daniel continued, “Are we expecting it to rise?”

  That almost got a giggle out of the young Army man. Even Sheila smiled. Jensen was confused by the next response. Aaron simply said, “Like an empress above the Serengeti.”

  Jensen had no idea what that meant, but Daniel clearly did, because he expressed his appreciation. “Good one! Classic.”

  Aaron simply replied, “You’re welcome. Now look for Ayersville Road on your right. You’ll go around a corner and find a railroad crossing on your left.”

  Jensen could already see the long cargo train before them. Containers were stacked two-high across most of it.
Some seemed almost new, while others were covered in graffiti. The words appeared to be mostly names or nicknames, while others contained expletives. After following the road around a corner, they ran alongside the stopped behemoth for a bit before they found the crossing.

  From where Jensen stopped, he could see the length of the train trailing off in both directions. It appeared to curve around a corner toward the front and stretch off toward a bridge to the rear. They were completely cut off from the south side of the tracks. There didn’t seem to be an easy way around the many cars.

  Up close, the shipping containers seemed monstrous. How the hell did they plan to fit them with wheels and tow them back to, much less up, the mountain? Each one was over twice as long as his tub. They also wouldn’t know what was in the containers until they opened each of them up. He was hoping for some empty ones to make loading them easier, but wasn’t very hopeful. Logistics folks had gotten very good over the past decade. He doubted they were going to send a lot of empty containers.

  If the train had derailed, then perhaps this entire project would have been easier. They might have been able to simply pull them away from the wreckage. Trying to get them off the rail cars without a crane was going to be difficult at best. Jensen watched as Aaron stopped his little roadster across the street and swiftly moved to the rail cars with his rifle in his hand.

  The older man didn’t move like he had graduated high school over thirty years ago. He was in top-notch condition. Appearing to ignore the buildings behind them, he dropped to the ground under the nearest car and settled into a prone position. He was protected by the metal wheels of the car, making a shot on his position extremely difficult from either side of the train.

  Jensen watched with interest as the former Special Forces operator cleared the far side of the train. From inside the cockpit of his tub, he scanned what was happening behind them on the monitors inside the tub. He couldn’t detect any movement, even when he used his fingers on the touchscreen monitors to zoom in on potential shooting positions. Once again, he cursed the small size of the screens; they should have been bigger.

  He noticed Daniel had already managed to unhook the trailer and was backing his tub up toward the train, facing his guns toward the buildings behind him. Jensen took the opportunity to do the same, staring at the train through his windshield while trying to monitor the area across the street on his screens made maneuvering a challenge. He pointed his guns somewhat toward the direction they’d come from so he could cover a wide arc.

  He jumped a little bit when he heard a knock on his hatch and looked down to see Aaron grinning at him. “It’s clear. Cav officers, I swear, always afraid to leave their sardine tin.”

  Jensen popped open the hatch and tapped on it himself. “Never had a bullet come through this.” He indicated Aaron’s thin jacket. “Not sure how much good that would do you.”

  Unlike the rest of the group, Aaron had chosen not to wear any sort of vest or plate carrier. He said it would constrict his movements, and if anyone got close enough to be a danger without him noticing, he deserved to get shot anyway. That sort of confidence was inspiring, but Jensen trusted the armor around him even more.

  The open area made Jensen a little uncomfortable, but he certainly wasn’t going to be able to sit in his tub and also manage to retrieve the shipping containers they wanted. He swung the hatch open further as Aaron backed away and hopped down. He noted, as he did so, that Emmy was approaching from the little electric car. He hadn’t seen her when he was scanning; perhaps she’d been crouched below the windows.

  As Brent and Daniel got out of the other tub, Aaron turned to Brent. “As promised, a train full of shipping containers. Now how do we get them out of here?”

  Unlike Jensen, Brent had already come up with a plan. “First, let’s get a few open and see what’s inside. We don’t want to have to unload anything too crazy.”

  Sheila appeared by their side with the giant bolt cutters. “Let’s get to it then.” She walked to the closest shipping container and attempted to cut open the lock, but it didn’t give. Brent went to her side and explained the ratcheting mechanism which helped to provide extra leverage. Moments later, it was open.

  They were able to swing the door out a few feet before it slammed into the container in front of it with a loud clang. Jensen felt like crossing his fingers. This container would be the easiest to maneuver off the train car if it contained something easy to offload. His face fell when Brent swung the door closed again and hopped down, shaking his head.

  “This is all metal stock. Tons of it.” He approached the group while Sheila moved to the next car. “There’s no way we’re getting that unloaded any time soon.”

  It was only about a minute later when they heard Sheila call out, “This one’s the same. It’s all metal rods.” She moved down the line again. Daniel drifted that way with his rifle in his arms, not entirely trusting the quiet.

  “Maybe we could drop these and use the tubs to pull out the bars,” Jensen suggested.

  Brent thought for a moment. “That might work, but I’m afraid we’d destroy the shipping container. That’s a lot of weight. Then we’d have a smashed container right in the middle of the intersection.”

  From the third car down, they heard Daniel shout, “I think we’ve got one here. It’s all cooking oil.”

  “I’d hoped for something like toilet paper or cotton balls,” Brent muttered, once they saw the inside stacked with boxed jugs of oil. The three-gallon jugs of peanut oil weighed almost 30 pounds each. Not exactly heavy, but still enough to wear them out pretty quickly as they offloaded the materials to the side of the train away from the tubs.

  It didn’t seem bad at first. The small group simply handed the jugs encased in cardboard cartons down from the front of the container while those on the ground walked a few feet away and tossed them. It quickly became apparent that the jugs, stacked eight-high and nine-wide, were going to be more difficult than they seemed. After the first few hundred, they stopped for a short rest and changed positions.

  Jensen was certain he wasn’t the only one who felt a little depressed by their progress. They’d only gotten about six or seven feet into the 40-foot container. He started to do the math and realized there were over 50 rows to clear out. They’d managed to go through about seven.

  Even worse, the pile of jugs they were tossing carelessly to the side had started creeping toward them already. If they had any chance of completely offloading the oil, they’d need to expand outward instead of simply standing there. He sighed. They were definitely going to end up spending the night there. He’d hoped to be back before nightfall, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  Instead, it was almost evening by the time they finished tossing the oil. Their rapid progress at the front of the container slowed mightily once they had to start carrying the jugs the length of the container, while those on the outside had to carry them again around the pile they’d created in order to get them out of the way.

  Jensen was exhausted, and he could tell the others felt the same way. Most were massaging their shoulders or trying to stretch out cramps from the exertion. He grabbed a pack from the trailer and returned, holding up an MRE with its distinctive brown packaging in his right hand and the pack in his left. “Mystery meals for all. First up is spaghetti, who wants spaghetti?”

  Brent held up a hand and Jensen tossed it to him. He reached into the pack and grabbed another. “Chicken primavera?”

  Aaron held up his hand. “They didn’t have this one when I was in. Hopefully things have gotten better since then.”

  Daniel shook his head glumly. “They haven’t.” He looked at Jensen. “And I’m guessing you only have MREs?”

  Trying to hold back a laugh, Jensen replied, “Field rations. We’re in the field.” He remembered the first and only MRE Daniel had ever eaten, and the gaseous response to it.

  Daniel did as well. “I think I might just starve instead.”

  Sheila negated hi
s sentiment. “You’re going to eat. You need the calories. We still have to get this one ready for transport and clear out another one.”

  Jensen pulled out the next one and grinned. “You’ll like this one. Southwestern taco bowl.” He tossed it at Daniel, who just let it hit his chest and drop to the ground.

  Instead, he said “Anyone want to trade? This one sounds delicious!” His posture and voice belied his tale, and nobody was willing to take him up on his offer.

  The remaining meals had already been heated before the big man finally broke down and ripped the package open. It was a few minutes later before he’d finished his crackers with jelly spread and his dried fruit. He looked reluctantly at the small package and tore it open lengthwise using the notch. He made sure everyone was watching before he picked some up in the supplied spoon and stared at it before gingerly placing it in his mouth.

  Daniel chewed slowly for effect. “This isn’t bad actually. The beans are a little mushy and it needs salt, but it’s nowhere near as bad as that first one.” He found the salt and pepper packets and poured them both into the mix before eating more. “Now that’s just fine cuisine.” Once he finished, he placed everything into the original package and tossed it on the pile of refuse from the others. “Got any more?”

  He wasn’t the only one who noticed the loud grumble of protest from his stomach. Daniel looked at Jensen in horror. “What did you do to me now?” The rumble came again, louder this time. Daniel shot Jensen a dirty look, as though he were responsible for this outrage. In a way, he was. He’d been the one to decide to bring the MREs in case they were stuck overnight.

  For a moment, Jensen felt a little bad. He had the freeze-dried packs of biscuits and gravy for the morning. Then he heard another gurgle and didn’t feel bad anymore. That was just funny. “I don’t see anyone else reacting like that. You zoomies must just have exceptionally delicate tummies.”