by Ryan King
Chapter 19 – Camp Beaver
Nathan’s band knew they were close to the Jackson Purchase two days before they arrived. They saw the glow of lights in the dark night sky off to the west. It was a sight that struck wonder and awe in their collective spirit. It was real, they said to each other in hushed whispers as if they might scare it away with the sound of their voices. They had dared to hope, but tried to remain skeptical, not wanting to be let down. Seeing the lights meant more than most dared to imagine.
Their pace became unconsciously brisk and the mood upbeat. Everyone wanted to see what was on the other side of each hill and beyond the next bend in the road. Talk was light and laughter easy. Smiles were present, but more and more Nathan noticed long looks and glances his way. He couldn’t figure it out at first, but then he understood. Their collective fates were in his hands as they saw it. Unless he got them into the JP, they would probably never get in. Not getting into the JP meant a cold, dark, miserable life filled with dangerous people and a crushing lack of hope.
The sun was bright the day they arrived at Camp Beaver. They saw it from a rise, and the makeshift camp was fairly impressive in all the wrong ways. Row upon row of drab tents and shacks spread out before them like something from the crowded slums of Brazil or Haiti. Even at a distance Nathan could sense the squalor, desperation, and danger. Nathan wasn’t sure how the camp got its name, but it possessed none of the charm, order, or ingenuity that a beaver would have provided. They formed up and proceeded.
As they drew closer to the camp, people began to approach them either to beg or sell, but the sight of the armed men on either flank of the road, and probably the sight of a functioning vehicle, caused them to keep their distance. The air was filled with the smell of sweat and cooking fires. Yet, not everything was bad Nathan noted.
For one, Nathan did not see sick or dead in the streets, nor human waste or garbage for that matter, which could cause sickness. The next thing he noticed were figures walking throughout the camp with plastic buckets filled with what looked like clear water. As they got near the center of the camp, Nathan saw why. There was a well in the ground with a neat and orderly line of people waiting their turn. Two swarthy men stood nearby with thick bundles of car radio antennas taped together, clearly to beat anyone who refused to maintain order.
Nathan also saw a raised platform nearby with three sets of rough wooden stocks, one of them actually occupied by a skinny and bruised boy. Two other men with antenna batons stood nearby. Nathan noticed a large wooden sign posted to the front of the platform with bright blue painted words. The sign read: “Camp Beaver Rules” and underneath: “1. No stealing 2. No fighting 3. Everyone pulls their weight 4. No drunkenness 5. If sick, go to the infirmary 6. Only relieve yourself at the latrines 7. No disrespect to women 8. No bullying 9. Obey the camp authorities 10. Report all infractions.”
It was crude, but Nathan was impressed. The camp was poor and dirty, but not overly so. It appeared people were going about their business without apparent fear. They soon came to what was obviously the infirmary and also a food distribution center, with another set of guards. All the guards so far had eyed them suspiciously, but made no attempt to question them or impede their progress.
There were also thin metal poles at regular intervals along the main avenue with lights and loudspeakers attached. These people might be poor by the standards of a year ago thought Nathan, but by today’s they are fabulously wealthy.
The actual entrance to the JP almost caught them by surprise. The road led right to the I-24 bridge across the Cumberland River. The near side of the bridge contained several makeshift bunkers and approximately a dozen armed men in uniform with rifles and machine guns. Even more amazing, there was an American flag waiving bravely on a long pole in the gentle breeze. The men were lazily sitting around until they saw Nathan’s armed band come into view. With a crisp order they all moved back behind the barriers and pointed their weapons at them. Nathan’s crew stopped.
Nathan walked up to Harold. “Let me handle this, I’m an old pro at it.”
“Yeah, we saw how well that worked out for you last time,” said Harold.
Nathan smiled. “Just make sure whatever happens, no one from our end shoots.”
“No problem,” said Harold, “but be careful,” he added as an afterthought.
Nathan nodded and handed Harold all his weapons. He turned and began slowly walking towards the men with his hands raised. He eased forward with all eyes upon him. When he was about twenty yards from the barricade he heard “That’s far enough. Stop and state your business.”
Nathan couldn’t see who addressed him, but he lowered his arms and spoke to the uniformed group eyeing him over their weapons. “I am Major Nathan Taylor, U.S. Army and I have come home with my family. I grew up here and this is my home.” Nathan took a hard swallow. “Please let me in.”
There was silence for a moment and then the voice again almost bored. “Do you have any documentary proof of your claims?”
“I have a driver’s license from Graves County and my military identification card. I also have family in there that will vouch for me.”
The man who had been speaking stood from behind the barricade, and Nathan noticed he was a Staff Sergeant. “Proceed forward,” he said, and then moved his eyes to the rest of the group. “Just you.”
As Nathan walked slowly forward to the edge of the barricade the man stuck his hand out and Nathan at first thought he was going to shake his hand but then realized he wanted the documentation. Nathan pulled out his entire wallet and handed it to the man. The Sergeant took the wallet and quickly began flipping through the contents looking up at Nathan every now and then. “And how many are with you?” asked the man.
“My wife, two sons, and about forty others all told,” he said.
The man looked at him for a moment and smiled slightly. “And all of them are from the JP?”
“Well no, my family and I are, but I can vouch for the others and would like to speak to whoever is in charge about getting them in,” said Nathan.
The man started to retort with a smart reply and then looked down at the military identification card and paused. “Wait here…sir,” as he walked off. After a few moments Nathan could hear the squelch of a radio and a conversation. Nathan couldn’t hear what was said, but it was brief.
The Sergeant quickly came back. “You and your family can come in, the rest have to wait until after the review process. You’re to proceed to the other end of the bridge where my commanding officer will meet you and talk to you further.”
Nathan thought about arguing the point further, but saw the man’s set look and knew it would be no use. Orders were orders. The man obviously didn’t like this job and had probably been through this a hundred times before.
“Let me go talk to my group and get my family,” Nathan said.
“Sure, no problem,” said the Sergeant, “take all day if you like,” he said with obvious sarcasm.
Nathan turned back and looked at the man quickly realizing he was on the verge of giving the man a serious ass chewing.
Get it together, he told himself taking a few quick breathes. The Sergeant must have seen the look because he quickly turned and moved back behind the covered barricade area.
Nathan walked back to the group where he met Harold, Jim Meeks and his family. “Only us for now,” said Nathan, “but I’m going to talk to the commanding officer at the other end. Don’t worry.”
Harold lowered his head and said nothing. Jim cursed quietly.
“We could stay together, we don't need the stupid JP,” said Joshua.
“No,” said Jim softly. “You all go. It’s only right, you'll be better off in there.”
Joshua looked anguished, but said no more. Jim patted him on the shoulder and turned and walked away without another word.
“I keep my word,” Nathan said, looking Harold in his eyes. After a moment the two shook hands. Nathan took back his weapons before
turning and walking towards the barricade with Bethany and the boys falling in behind him. At the barricade the sergeant checked all their identification and then turned them over to the care of another soldier who placed all their bags and belongings in a shopping cart and pushed it ahead for them towards the far end of the long bridge.
As they walked west into the JP, Nathan looked back at what had very quickly become his extended family. All he saw were dejected, scared, and disappointed faces. He knew it would do no good, but he just couldn’t help himself. He looked towards them and waved.
Several raised their hands in return and then Nathan Taylor turned his back on them and walked across the bridge with his family. Finally home, but feeling almost sick.
Part II
From The Ground Up
