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

by Zack Finley

  Once the mama bears assured themselves the cubs were safe, they silently passed the baton to John. John and Allie each held an infant, while Tom and Mike helped got everyone a blanket and some water, before moving the children to our ORP.

  The two ladies picked me out of the crowd and approached.

  "I'm Lois, this is Juanita," said the younger woman. Lois was about my age; Juanita was my mom's age.

  Lois was about Razor's height. She had a bright red scar that ran from her left ear to the right side of her chin. The wound had healed but not aged. It puckered where it crossed her lips, but she showed no sign it hurt. She wore a ball cap, and her brown hair was barely longer than a half inch.

  Lois was extremely thin, and except for her voice and demeanor could pass for a man. Her clothing was dirty and draped loosely around her. Her tanned face was streaked with dirt. Her eyes were a searing blue. The way the knuckles on her hands protruded reminded me of Kurt. Her hands were clean with painfully short nails. I realized Lois was near starvation. I suspected under her jacket; she was just skin and bones.

  Juanita was short, barely coming up to my shoulder. She wore kid's jeans and an overlarge man's shirt under her jacket. Juanita’s gray hair was pulled back in a severe bun. Her dark leathery complexion spoke of years of sun exposure. Her naturally wiry build masked the signs of starvation.

  From the healthier look of the children, I knew Juanita and Lois gave most of their meals to the youngsters.

  "Lois, I'm Jeremy Breckinridge. Where are the rest of our people?"

  "They are still hostages. Those thugs demanded you return here tomorrow at noon. Then they will tell you what you must pay to get the rest of our people out," Lois said.

  Lois and Juanita grew increasingly anxious after Allie, and Tom took the children out of sight. We left Razor and Joel to watch the gate while the rest of us moved to the ORP.

  The kids swarmed Lois and Juanita when we arrived. Allie carried one of the infants in her arms, and John balanced the other on his hip.

  "I tried to convince them to let Jamie come with us, but they refused," Juanita told John.

  Tom showed Juanita where he wanted to put the kids. Once she understood, in no time she, Lois, and John settled the kids inside the crew cab. John remained in the cab with them, wrapping the youngsters in sleeping bags and some of the blankets Razor used to cushion his M240b.

  "I need an update on the situation inside the compound," I said, trying to get our guests attention.

  Everyone at the ORP except John and the children gathered around.

  "Why didn't they release everyone," I asked.

  "Dwayne's uncle argued in favor of sending all of us out," Lois said. "But the assholes refused. They were so happy with how well this worked they intend to eke it out for days. I doubt they plan to release everyone. They are worried we could overrun them if they released Sgt. Grady and the others."

  "I don't think Dwayne's uncle can stop them from killing our people," Juanita added. "Especially if they disguise it as an escape attempt. The only thing keeping our people alive now is they hope to trick you into providing a lot more in trade. They figure any group who would come this far to rescue us has to be well provisioned."

  "Do they know how many people we have?" Tom asked.

  "I don't know, they aren't very worried about your group, though. My guess is they have a count," Lois said. "They beat up the man you sent in pretty badly. I did what I could to help him. I doubt he told them anything."

  "Is Dwayne free, or is he in the corral?" I asked.

  "Dwayne is in with our guys. He told us Bear was off on assignment. Don't know what that really means. I hope Bear is still alive, but I wouldn't bet on it. I don't think he wanted the children to know," Lois said.

  "Tell me about the compound," I said.

  "I think there are about 40 people in there," said Lois. "Most of the normal people think Dwayne's uncle is in charge, but Eugene is the real power. He arranged today's trade. Eugene has five thugs with him. They arrived about a month after the power died. That was when Dwayne's parents left or disappeared, and the uncle took charge. Eugene and his thugs brought weapons and are now in charge of security. As long as everyone gives him what he wants, he lets people alone."

  "Any other people on guard duty?" Tom asked.

  "They usually assign one of their group with someone originally from the compound. They normally only have two guards at night, but now they are watching the corral, not the gate or walking the perimeter. Tonight, they are planning a party with the moonshine, I expect they will pass out in their trailers," Lois said.

  "We need to know where their trailers are so we can find them in the dark," I said.

  Lois squatted down on one knee and drew a plan of the compound. From her sketch, we could locate the appropriate trailers.

  "I take it you aren't going to wait for them to free our people?" Lois asked.

  "Hell no, we only paid today because it was cheap and timely. Now it isn't a simple trade, it has moved into extortion. How bad is Ben hurt?" I asked.

  "They kept kicking your man while he was down. He was still unconscious when we left. Juanita and I sewed up some of his wounds, but I think he has a concussion to go with the cracked ribs," Lois said.

  After we got all the intel we could think of from Lois and Juanita, I detailed Allie and Tom to take them and the youngsters back to the Cumberland. The cab was crowded, so Lois climbed in the back with John and settled in. Allie climbed into the driver's seat, and Tom straddled the ninja. With a wave, they were off.

  Mike and I rejoined Razor and Joel at the gate to plan the operation. The only controversial part was bringing enough rifles to equip those in the corral. We had to kill the main guard and if possible, silence and secure the coopted one without killing him. Killing both was the fallback option. Anyone with an automatic weapon was a free target. I also wanted to kill the thugs in their trailers, to remove anyone who might attempt to follow us.

  "Tom, pick up a load of corn for the river trip and bring back 10 rifles with as many spare magazines you can find," I radioed. I'd already warned Clyde we intended to take some corn from his barges and didn't expect any trouble. Tom would still be careful, but Clyde knew we were dangerous. He was a businessman, not a fighter.

  Then Allie, John, Tom would bring the last pickup back to the ORP with weapons and ammo for Andy's group.

  I kept watch sprawled behind the M240b, looking toward the compound. I encouraged those with me to get some rest as we counted down until dark. When Tom's team arrived, I'd wake up one of my group for the next period. I didn't expect any action during daylight, but we were prepared if it happened.

  The hands on my watch ticked around in exaggerated slowness until Tom, John, and Allie returned. Allie and Tom brought a stack of rifles and a nylon bag of magazines strapped into the stokes stretcher. Tom worried we might need it to carry either Ben or Jamie.

  Craig announced he no longer needed the stretcher and would use his new crutches to get around.

  John volunteered to guard the group for a few hours. I lent him my watch, telling him to wake Mike, Razor, or Joel at 15:00 and then rest.

  I settled under my poncho and slept like a rock.

  Someone kicked my foot and woke me. It was too dark to see who it was until Joel handed me a hot pouch of something smelling vaguely of tomato sauce. The food steamed and I ate it without delay, refueling for the night's activities. I didn't bother checking out the flavor since I suspected canned spaghetti tasted better.

  Everyone had NVGs, including John, who was wearing Ben's set. We all carried suppressed M4s and suppressed pistols. John had a suppressed M4 but carried his revolver for backup.

  Our plan was simple on the surface, we would enter the compound from the back, using the pre-cleared path made by Allie and Mike. Mike and Razor would slip into the compound ahead of the rest of us to kill the thug guard and disable the second. Once the guards went down, the rest of us would move to
our next objective.

  Joel and I would take one of the thug trailers and Mike and Razor the second. We all hoped the thugs enjoyed the moonshine, a lot.

  Allie, Tom, and John would take Ben and Jamie to safely, carrying one on the stretcher if necessary. If all went well, we'd kill the thugs and withdraw without alerting the rest of the camp. I wanted Andy and his team armed and ready, just in case everything didn't go well.

  We stashed the M240b in a ninja trailer and covered the ninjas with camouflage netting. The pickups pointed toward Storm Creek Lake Road with all the keys in an ammo can under the camouflage drape next to the ninjas

  Our team crept along the path Mike and Allie established this morning through the thick forest. We waited until 21:00 to start. The skies were clear, and the stars provided minimal illumination. No moon. I lost track of the moon phases and moon rise times once the heavy clouds built up. I knew the moon was waning and hoped it wouldn't rise until our mission was over. It was something I should have ensured someone was tracking, but it fell through the cracks. One more thing for us to monitor, like temperatures and wind directions.

  Our slow, deliberate pace kept the noise and stumbles to a minimum. The heavy forest silence amplified even the faintest sound. Tom, Allie, and John brought up the rear, carrying the stokes stretcher.

  Everyone froze and crouched when something disturbed the leaves to our left. The furtive rustling captured all our attention, only easing when the culprit came into view. A raccoon looking for grubs or insects. Relief flushed through my system. As a unit, we exhaled and resumed creeping toward the compound. Making a lot less noise than the raccoon.

  We planned to infiltrate the camp from the north where no berm blocked access. After securing the corral, the wounded could then take a more direct route south to the ORP or retrace our steps, depending upon the threat.

  While my gut told me to eliminate all the thugs, I still debated internally whether it was worth the risk. Perversely, I thought the people in this compound deserved to keep them.

  We ghosted past the pig pen and chicken coop. The pigs slept through our passage, but we elicited a tepid reaction from the chickens. In my experience, chickens seldom slept through the night without raising the alarm about something. They made terrible intrusion detectors since all it took to set them off was an acorn or even a leaf falling on a coop. My grandma speculated many of the alarms were merely chickens squawking when they fell asleep and then forgot to hold on to their roosts.

  These chickens just murmured and fidgeted but settled down quickly once we moved past.

  We edged single file just inside the western perimeter, away from the main residence and assorted outbuildings. They kept the barn closed up tight, whether full of animals or people we couldn't tell from outside. Lois and John provided good intel, allowing us to slip through the inhabited areas without raising the alarm.

  What I saw made me reevaluate sending our wounded back along our infiltration route. Most of the people lived on the north side of the compound. I suspected we were safer either going over the berm and intersecting with our marked path or leaving via the main driveway and gate. Going back past the residential area and barn posed an unnecessary risk of confrontation.

  We passed several outhouses. The well-worn paths to them suggested a lot of feet. I upped our population estimate for this compound. It also reminded me that anyone heeding the call of nature could blow our whole operation.

  I detached Tom, Allie, and John to stage in the shadows near the privies to reduce that threat.

  No one stirred in the corral. Razor and Mike slipped away from our group to seek out the guards. The rest of us crouched low either behind cover or hugging the dirt.

  Then I spotted one of the guards, sitting on something, with his rifle across his knees. I was about to alert Razor and Mike to the tango's location when I saw them freeze. Razor pointed to the man.

  I had the guard in my sights and would drill him if he became alarmed. It would be better if Razor capped him with the muffled pistol.

  We all held our collective breaths until the guard slumped over and slid to the ground, making more noise falling over than the sound of the pistol shot that ended his life.

  Everyone froze again as we sought the second guard.

  "Mister, did you hear that," someone whispered from behind the corral. That focused our attention toward the whisperer. Mike slipped deeper in the darkness as the rest of us remained still, straining to spot the second guard.

  "Mister, are you okay?" The whisperer moved slowly toward the dead guard's location. The young man or boy started mumbling as he caught sight of the slumped guard.

  "Jesus, you aren't supposed to drink moonshine while on guard duty," the boy said as he closed on the dead guard. Mike materialized from the darkness, putting his hand over the boy's mouth and his pistol in the kid's ear. Razor relieved the boy of a shotgun as Mike eased their captive to his knees. Razor then gagged and tied the boy, while Mike emptied pockets and searched for other weapons.

  Joel and I moved to our target trailer. Tom and John carried the stretcher to the corral, leaving Allie to monitor for traffic near the outhouses. Razor and Mike moved to the second target trailer, leaving the captive guard face down on the ground.

  We listened at the trailer door, and the snores from within confirming the element of surprise remained ours.

  I slipped to the rear sleeping compartment, leaving Joel to handle those in front. Eight quick shots and Joel and I were alone in the trailer. We sneaked out to back up Razor and Mike. They came out with two thumbs up.

  With the thugs down, it was time to get our people out.

  John located Sgt. Grady and the sergeant took charge of his flock, handing out weapons and ammo. In the darkness, I couldn't confirm whether Andy was in the group or not. Tom was inside a tent, checking on Ben. Some of Grady's men weren't armed, so Razor and Mike took them into the thugs' trailers to pick up weapons. I underestimated the sound level needed to wake, organize, and get a group of strangers moving in the dark.

  I slipped into the corral beside John and spoke low, "Where is Andy?" John pointed to a man crouched at the edge of the corral, wielding a rifle like he knew how to use it. I went directly to him, touching him on the shoulder.

  The man whirled around, stopping only when I blocked his weapon. "Andy, it's me, Jeremy." The starch went out of him, and he slumped down. "God, Jeremy, thank you for coming to get us. I didn't know what else to do. Are my kids okay?"

  "All the kids are safe with Lois and Juanita on our boat. We need to get the rest of you there, and we can shove off," I said, patting him on the shoulder. It was Andy, it just wasn't the Andy I once knew. This man was skin and bones, his eyes were wild and his face gaunt. The voice was right but gone was the blocky man I knew. His parents, Roger and Carmine, would be mortified with how he looked and saddened by the changes in his psyche.

  "Where is Carol?" I asked.

  "We lost her in Oklahoma," Andy said, with finality. From his tone, I recognized the topic was off limits.

  "Okay, I want to check with our medic, and then we should get the hell out of here," I said.

  "Wait, have you seen Jules, he is around here somewhere."

  "Jules is with you?" I asked, unable to mask my reaction.

  "Yeah, he flew in just after the power went down. Banged up his airplane so had to stay with us," Andy said. "I'll get my people moving." He stood up, a shell of the man I once knew, yet still with the drive to put one foot in front of the other.

  I recognized the look and the grit. Exhaustion, danger, pain, and loss were all present, but so was the fundamental strength of character I saw in fellow warriors on the battlefield.

  I wanted to seek out Jules, but needed to find out how bad Ben and Jamie were first. I found Tom in the only tent with a dim light in it. Ben was unconscious and on the stretcher. "How bad is he?"

  "I don't know. Ben has several broken ribs and a head injury. Not much we can do with eith
er, except get him to safety and keep him warm. I'd have him airlifted if we could. Even then, there's not a lot a full hospital can do at this point. I haven't tried to wake him up, it will just make it worse getting him to the boat. Once we have him on the Cumberland, I can assess him better. His pupils respond to light, and they are symmetrical, so he might not be bleeding inside his head."

  I helped Tom strap Ben in place, trying not to shift the ribs. We had just lifted him up when the shotgun blast shattered the night. We didn't drop Ben, but we set him down mighty fast as Tom, and I rushed out of the tent, ready to respond to the threat.

  The cry of "Medic" sent Tom running with me right on his heels. Razor was down.

  "Andy, get your people to form up around the corral, while I assess the risk," I shouted. "Rangers fall back to my position," I radioed.