Bittersweet Homecoming; Surviving the Black--Book 3 of a Post-Apocalyptical Series

by Zack Finley

An interesting possibility I hadn't considered. I wished we had our loudspeaker from the patrol boat.

  "If Ben did that then this bunch must be wondering what is going on out here," I said, nodding to Allie for her suggestion. "Cover me, I'll move up as close as I can to the gate and shout."

  Everyone moved into position, behind the scant cover but in view of the gate. I took a deep breath and started my belly crawl toward one of the burned-out hulks abandoned in front of the gate. Once there, I got up on knees, cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, "We want to talk with Dwayne."

  I crawled to the other end of the hulk and waited before shouting, "Dwayne, Ben, or Andy." I crawled only halfway back and repeated my chant after waiting five minutes.

  "I'm tossing a flashbang in five," I radioed. I waited; then hurled the flashbang over the gate and into the compound. My body dropped to the rough road with my face and ears covered by my arms, to reduce the impact of the flash and thunder.

  I waited 10 minutes this time to let their ears start working again, before shouting. "We want to talk with Dwayne, Ben, or Andy."

  "Who the hell are you?" came a shout back a few moments later.

  "Jeremy Breckinridge, we are here to pick up Andy and his bunch."

  "How do I know you aren't worse than those fuckers you shot up last night?"

  "We sent Ben and John in last night to warn you," I yelled.

  "You set off any more explosives, and we will kill your people."

  "I promise if you hurt our people, you won't live to see the next sunrise," I shouted. "None of you will." I unclenched my teeth, took a deep breath, and damped-down my rage. This was a negotiation, not a pissing contest. His words sparked a knee-jerk reaction, I needed to control. While reason might not prevail, I damn well knew trading threats wouldn't work.

  "All we want is for you to send our people out. We will leave your area. You will never see us again," I said, attempting to sound reasonable but firm. "Let them go."

  "We will get back to you."

  I remained in the shadow of the burnt hulk. The acrid smell of burned rubber and plastics hung over in the area. My body ached, and the weight of exhaustion held me in its grip. I closed my eyes against the smoky fumes and dozed off.

  The shout from the compound woke me.

  "We are sending Dwayne and John out to talk to you," a new voice shouted.

  "Great, we will be here," I shouted. I lowered my voice to just above a whisper to the radio, "Head's up fellas, this could be a trick."

  Checking my rifle and gear was second nature as I shifted to my knees. "Let me know when they are close," I spoke softly into the radio. Five squelches.

  "John and a big guy are walking our way, their hands in the air. About 50 yards from our lines. They should arrive at the gate in about three minutes," came over the radio.

  "Crawling through the gate. Should approach Jeremy's cover in about 60 seconds."

  I watched my space, and the moment John reached my side of the barrier, I hissed, "In here." John didn't hesitate to flop onto his stomach and belly crawl to my far side. The man he was with bunched up behind cover on my near side.

  I turned to John, "Where is Ben?"

  "He is with Andy and the rest of our group. Dwayne warned him to leave his gear behind, or we'd never see it again. They put Dwayne in with us. Ben tried to explain the plan, but they didn't listen. They beat him up, bad."

  "Dwayne, how do we retrieve my people from your family?" I asked.

  "I don't know, my uncle is now in charge, and things are weird. They don't want to feed our group, and they don't want to let us go," Dwayne said. "No one will tell me what happened to my mom and dad. Some rough guys are living in the compound that I don't know. The other families just defer to them. They regret letting Andy radio home. They never thought someone would come."

  "I prefer to free my people without further violence," I said. "but I will destroy this place to extract my people. Can you convey that message for me? If they start killing my people, there will be no reason to leave any of them alive. No one."

  "I want Andy and our crew released, but I can't let you kill my family," Dwayne said, his expression tense and his breathing uneven.

  "That is no longer your call," I said. "We have explosives and heavy weapons and men trained to use them. Your people can avoid all of that by letting my people go. End of story. Go relay my message to whoever is in charge over there. Please be convincing since the lives of everyone inside that compound may depend upon it."

  Dwayne took a deep breath, to steady himself. A look of resolve flitted across his face. His jaw clenched, and he nodded. "I'll do my best; they are just scared. Most of those I know are intimidated by my uncle's thugs."

  "Do you need a pistol to pick them off?"

  "Tempting, but I can't count on killing them all before they shoot me," Dwayne said. "My probation got revoked last night when I brought John and Ben in. My uncle isn't ready to kill me, but his thugs are. I have no trouble killing them, they killed Bear last night."

  "Is there a way we can infiltrate and help take them down?"

  "John should be able to find the way we came in last night. He can show you where they are keeping our group. They never trusted me enough to share anything about security, so I can't help there."

  "If we have not heard from someone by 11:00, we will assume they want to do this the hard way," I said. "Good luck."

  Dwayne stood up with his hands in the air; ducked through the gate and began walking down the dirt driveway. Someone shouted, and he left the road and disappeared from view.

  I tapped John on the shoulder, and we pulled back to our line.

  When back behind cover John sketched a diagram of the compound in the dirt. Our people were in a corral near the center of the compound. There was a large house, a smaller house, a barn, a shop, and several outbuildings. The water tower served as a lookout and supplied water pressure. John estimated about 10 trailers, some present for many years, others were newcomers.

  Shipping containers formed a ring around much of the main compound, with dirt piled up against the outside walls. Some places where there was no shipping container, packed dirt filled in between. There was a large garden outside the main defensive ring, but John never saw that. John believed they kept the livestock near the garden, away from the homes.

  "What kind of booby traps do they use?" I asked.

  "I did not spot any traps," John said. "I saw a lot of deer tracks, so false alarms here would be a real problem. We had trip wires in Arizona, but the wildlife set some of them off. The blasts knocked down small trees and actually made it easier to find our place."

  "What about guards?" Tom asked. "Especially around the prisoners."

  "They took all of our weapons when we first arrived at the compound. They promised to give them back when we left. We hid a few handguns but had to give up the rifles and shotguns. We were running out of ammo for them anyway. At first, they didn't treat us like prisoners. At their request, we set up camp in the corral but came and went to the outhouse any time we wanted. The day before Dwayne smuggled me out to meet you, that changed. They gave us buckets and only allowed us to empty them in the outhouse twice a day. That is when they started guarding the corral with two guards on all the time. Someone might have watched from the water tower, but I never saw him."

  John added, "At least one of those guarding the prisoners now is always a bad dude."

  "Any way to differentiate between the 'bad dudes' and the rest of them?" Razor asked.

  "The bad dudes all carry automatic rifles. Most everyone else lugs around a shotgun inside the compound. I'm sure the guy on the water tower has some kind of rifle. So do the sentries guarding the wall."

  "Anyone wearing armor?" Allie asked.

  "Not the plates you guys wear, but more like the stuff cops wear," John said. "Dwayne had Ben leave his rifle and armor behind with the radio, so no one has it."

  "Do they have night vision gear?" Mike as
ked.

  "Some of the bad dudes wear them. They run the generator for about an hour a day to charge batteries and stuff. They carry handheld radios, too, not like yours more like the walkie talkies we used in camp before the crash."

  "Describe the corral and how your group is arranged in it," I said.

  "We got maybe 25 adults left. Joe died while I was out, he got shot in the head and never got any better. Jamie's shoulder is still pretty bad, but Lois says it isn't infected. Our group has 18 who are good in a fight, but the kids and a few of the older ladies and now Jamie won't be much help. Lois is a great nurse, just not a very good shooter. My grandma takes care of the kids and feeds us. She will use a butcher knife to defend those kids. Her eyesight is so bad, she worries about shooting one of us by accident if we give her a gun."

  "Does everyone sleep in tents?"

  "The tents are set up around in a circle against the edges of the corral. Everyone sleeps in tents, especially when it rains. Dwayne arranged those tents, a few blankets, firewood, and water for us when we first got there. He couldn't convince them to give us any food. We are running really low on food after losing most of it in the ambush. Dwayne warned us his people decided not to give us any more wood, so we cut back on the cooking fire."

  "Anyone need to be carried?" Allie asked.

  "Only two of the kids. They are too little to walk far and too slow. Jamie can walk now, but his stamina is shot."

  "The corral, can people crawl through it the whole way around?"

  "Yeah, it's made out of steel tubes, easy to go over or through."

  "Where do the bad dudes sleep?"

  "They brought two trailers with them. Dwayne was surprised they haven't kicked his uncle out of the big house, yet," John answered.

  "Alright," I said, "we need a back way into the compound. Since I think Dwayne has mixed allegiances, let's go in from the right side. It is easier to spot traps in the daytime so Allie and Mike will take the bow saw and mark us a trail. Mark it well enough even civilians can follow it in the dark. Cut the trail as close to the camp as you can without alerting them." Allie and Mike nodded, acknowledging their assignment.

  Tom and John left to retrieve Ben's gear and ninja.

  Razor, Joel, and I waited for an answer from the compound.

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter 6

  We got our answer at 11:00. They would trade our people back to us for five gallons of moonshine.

  As much as I hated to reward terrorists, avoiding bloodshed was worth a few gallons of 'shine we liberated from Clyde. We agreed to make the exchange at 14:00. Razor and Joel left in one of the pickups to get the 'shine. Tom announced he and John would meet them at the Cumberland.

  I sprawled out behind the M240b, watched, and waited. Allie and Mike returned to my position a half hour after Razor, and Joel departed.

  "We now have a back door into the compound. We didn't cut any limbs the last 50 feet or so," Mike said. "I didn't want to risk being heard. We looped around the built-up berms and came in to the back. Anyone leaving the compound on the west side will intersect the path within 100 feet. I hacked blazes on tree trunks at about knee height every time we zigged. Allie cut limbs intruding into the path, so it should be easy to spot if you are careful."

  Mike insisted I rest, while he and Allie kept watch. No arguments from me. I vaguely heard Tom radioing that they were on their way back as sleep overtook me.

  The next thing I remembered was someone nudging my foot. I was groggy, only vaguely aware of our situation. Too many wakeups like this in the field. It took me a moment to acclimate. Someone thrust a mug of hot coffee into my hand and a paper plate of congealed mac and cheese. The coffee warmed me from within and helped chase the cobwebs away. The mac and cheese provided fuel. I ate it mechanically while looking over the rest of my team.

  "How was Craig?" I asked Tom, cupping the hot mug in my hands against my body's chill.

  "Good, he and Kurt have a decent setup. They are in a pile of blankets sitting in the front of the Cumberland cleaning weapons. We brought fresh batteries for you. Ben left all his gear with the radio. John's wearing Ben's plate carrier and has his M4, radio, and NVGs.

  They also brought several ammo cans so we could refill our empty mags, which I proceeded to do after glancing at my watch. It was 13:35.

  I visited the latrine tree, then returned to the line. No surprise but Razor had reclaimed the spot behind the M240b.

  By 14:00, we were in position. Mike volunteered to exchange the 'shine and was crouched against the berm next to the gate with the five-gallon bucket beside him. The rest of us strung out on the line with Allie guarding our six. John tucked in beside Tom.

  At about 14:30, two adults marched out of cover onto the driveway, each carrying an infant. Both adults wore jeans and jackets, one was bareheaded, and the other wore a baseball cap. They were too far away to see in detail.

  From their clothing, they could be male or female, but the defiant way they gathered the rest of the children to them told me they were all female. Fierce mama bears protecting their cubs came to mind.

  Three elementary school age children clung to the legs of two kids who might be 12- or 13-years old, Jennifer’s age. Not one of the kids cried or made any sound, even though they were visibly frightened. The two women braced their shoulders, both standing straighter. They glared defiantly toward the left side of the drive while gathering their flock tighter around themselves.

  "Where is our moonshine?" shouted someone inside the compound.

  "You can pick it up at the gate when the hostages arrive," Mike shouted back. Mike then carried the bucket, placing it on our side of the gate but within view of our adversaries.

  There was an angry exchange of words we couldn't make out between one of the women and someone on the left behind the hulk of a car placed strategically about 200 feet from the gate.

  John looped behind the line and ran crouching low to join Mike behind the berm. Mike and John said a few words, and Mike nodded. Both now waited for this group of hostages to reach them.

  As the cluster of kids neared the gate, I saw the bareheaded chaperone was an older Hispanic woman. The other woman was white and about my age. It was impossible to tell much about the kids with their faces buried against their protectors.

  Once the flock reached the gate, the older Hispanic woman stopped and turned to monitor the men hiding from our view. The other lady crawled through the gate first, still carrying the infant in her arms. She then helped the children through the gate. The kids never left her side, holding tightly to her legs. I noticed both women kept their bodies between the kids and the men behind the wrecked car.

  The woman still inside the compound deposited her youngster on our side of the gate, speaking softly to the little one.

  This prompted John to call to them, energizing the cluster of kids. The oldest child grabbed the toddler's hand, and they all made a beeline for John and Mike.

  The smallest child still clung to the woman on our side of the gate. That woman hefted the moonshine through the gate to the woman on the other side.

  "Lois, hand me the baby," John said, loud enough for me to hear.

  Lois just watched the older Hispanic woman struggle with the bucket of 'shine. Lois moved toward John, handing him the baby but then returned to watch the struggling woman. Lois once again braced her shoulders before ducking back under the gate to help the older woman carry the bucket.

  This caused a commotion amongst the children which John was hard-pressed to contain. Allie ran over to help John move the children out of the danger zone. Mike remained at his post as Tom moved up to help Allie and John.

  The kids remained unnaturally quiet, none cried or made any noise after John spoke to them. The two oldest children helped John, Allie, and Tom move them all away from the berm to a safer spot.

  Seeing that operation was under control, I turned to watch the driveway.

  The two women carrying the bucket had nearly reach
ed the abandoned car. They set the bucket down on the driveway and reversed course.

  The two women marched back, slowly and defiantly. They crossed through the gate together. Once both were on our side, they looked back toward the compound and glared, momentarily ignoring Mike's pleas for them to get out of the line of fire. They then turned and strolled to his side before frantically searching for the kids. Mike attempted to soothe them, but they refused to pay him any attention, making a beeline for our line. Mike decided reuniting them with their charges took precedence over an operational briefing. He led them directly past me, straight to where the kids waited.

  From the way the kids and their caregivers greeted one another, they could have been separated for days, not just a few minutes. I drifted back to ask where the rest of our people were.