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

by Zack Finley

  "Of course," Grady said. "Don't worry, we've done this before."

  Juanita gave me a slab of corn stuff. The touch of salt substantially improved the taste. The stuff now tasted nutty, overcoming its gelatinous consistency on my woeful palate. I didn't need the hot sauce to eat it.

  I made sure all my people knew the plan and went to sleep.

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter 11

  The change in engine sounds woke me up at around 02:00. Jules was still asleep as I dressed silently and eased out of the cabin. I slipped charged batteries into my NVGs and radio by the red light in the corridor, before striding up to the second deck to look around.

  An icy wind sliced through my clothing straight to the skin. A telling contrast between life in the cabin and life in the wild. We'd miss the boat in the coming days. It had nearly all the amenities of life before the crash. I zipped up to conserve my body heat.

  The only light around was the boat spotlight stabbing through the darkness, screwing with my night vision. The intense beam played along the bridge looming in front of us. At least the bridge was still up. The light turned night into day, but only in its beam.

  We still moved upriver but at a slower pace than normal. An emerald shore beacon, behind us on the far shore, was the only light visible except for the stars and our badass spotlight. Outside of the spotlight's focus, I could see nothing but the roiling surface of the Mississippi River covered by thin tendrils of fog or mist. The hefty breeze kept the fog loose and wispy.

  Two of Grady's men shared the deck with me, silent so far. "Did you see anything?" I asked.

  "Looks like the bridge is holding back a bunch of barges stacked up against it but so far no clear passage. On the right side, there are barges tied up to a grain terminal. Allie said we were probably tying up there, at least for the rest of the night."

  "I'll go check on what they are planning," I said. "And, let you know what I find out."

  I climbed the steps into the wheelhouse. Both Ben and Allie were on duty. Ben was sweeping the spotlight across the water in front of the boat, and Allie was studying the horizon with her binoculars.

  "Hey boss," Ben said. "We need this spotlight at the Valley. It turns night into day. We haven't seen a way through the bridge. We passed the Bader Light about 15 minutes before we slowed down. Allie calculated we were less than a mile from the bridge then. The Linwood Bend light should be visible now in front of us on the right bank, but it is either out, or that mess of barges is blocking our view of it."

  "I don't see a way through," Allie added. "The bridge either picked up more barges or they shifted. We might be able to push them out of the way, but I'm not keen on doing it at night. That spotlight is great, but too much can go wrong."

  "No need to risk either sinking or disabling this boat, especially in the dark. The guys on deck say there is a terminal you plan to tie up at?" I asked.

  "There is a raft of barges tied there already," Allie said. "They are high in the water, so I think they are empty. One downside to the spotlight, if anyone is staying nearby, they know we are here."

  "Alright, you get us there, and we'll tie up and send a recon team," I said. "Light up where we are going and be alert for threats."

  "I'm going to turn around and park the Jersey Girl against the barges, just in case. I'm not sure if they have enough rope, so remember to take some from the Cumberland stores if you need to.”

  "Good point, although I think the Jersey Girl has enough," I said.

  Ben angled the rudder to aim the boat toward the shore facility. He reset the spotlight, and Allie studied the new target with her binoculars. I left the wheelhouse to brief those standing by.

  I relayed the plan to the two soldiers on the Cumberland deck, and they left to organize a tie-up party and a recon team. I tasked Mike to insert himself into the recon team. I crossed the gangplank to the Jersey Girl deck and waited.

  The light revealed not just a raft of barges but two large conical tanks with a superstructure between them. The stark light gave the illusion that anything caught in its beam was flat, two dimensional.

  As we closed in on the barge raft, someone in the wheelhouse narrowed and widened the beam looking for the sweet spot, where everyone could see well enough to tie up. These barges towered over the Cumberland's lower deck by at least six feet, complicating the tie-up plan.

  Allie skillfully maneuvered the clumsy Cumberland/Jersey Girl to point the bows down river before reversing the engines and snuggling us alongside. Mike stood with Grady's team and cautioned them to stand by until Allie gave the okay to tie up.

  A man I didn't know carried a long ladder over his head as he trotted across the gangway before handing it off to someone standing on the deck of the Jersey Girl.

  I eyed the gangplank and asked those below whether we should relocate it to facilitate traffic between the Jersey Girl and the barges. In minutes the gangplank loosely bridged between the barges and the Jersey Girl.

  Once Allie declared the position as "stable," four men swarmed across the gangplank carrying coils of rope. The reflected glow from the spotlight hitting the barges lit up the decks of our boats. There were still plenty of shadows, but everyone was coping. In no time our crew secured the Jersey Girl and Cumberland against the outermost barge.

  Mike and four of Grady's bunch assembled on the top deck of the Jersey Girl for the recon mission.

  "Tom, give Razor's NVGs and radio to the recon group going with Mike. No need to have Mike the only one who can see anything," I radioed.

  "I'll be there in a tick," Tom radioed.

  Mike must have relayed the message because a discussion ensued amongst the recon team, although not one I could hear over the sound of the engines. Joel announced he was leaving the engines on, just in case we needed to make a quick getaway. Someone moved the standby axes to the Jersey Girl deck near the ropes now holding us to the barge.

  Without the gangway, it was tougher to travel between the Cumberland to the Jersey Girl, but everyone managed. Tom arrived promptly, bringing three suppressed M4s and a ruck full of mags. As he passed out the weapons, I saw the ruck also held three sets of NVGs, but only one radio and one set of plate carriers.

  The three men with the NVGs took the suppressed M4s, too. Tom now carried an AK-47, and I suspected Craig had one of his sniper rifles.

  After the recon team checked out their new equipment, Mike radioed Ben to shut off the light. This plunged everything into blackness. The bright light fried everyone's night vision. I knew from experience it took at least half an hour to regain your ability to see even marginally in the dark. The guys with NVGs could do okay in about 15 minutes.

  The recon team waited on the barge until everyone could see well enough to proceed. I sat in the wheelhouse of the Jersey Girl, out of most of the wind. Two of the windows were missing, but with the heater on, it was almost toasty.

  I wasn't surprised when Grady joined me soon after the recon squad radioed they were proceeding. The squad planned to reach the shore using the center pylon, which held the end of the grain conveyor belt. From those we observed heading downriver, they typically had ladders or stairs accessible from barge level.

  I might have used the patrol boat to get to shore quicker, but Mike wanted to confirm our boats were safe on the water side before leaving the dock. Both methods worked.

  Our boat crew remained vigilant. Joel monitored waters off the stern while Ben and Allie monitored the tops of the barges and the water surrounding us. At the first hint of trouble, Allie, Tom, Joel, and I would race to the patrol boat to help the recon squad, along with however many of Grady's bunch arrived for the sortie.

  "Barges are clear," radioed Mike.

  "Roger," Ben answered.

  "Now we wait," Grady said. "Thanks for the gear."

  "We probably should have given up another radio, but everyone is still pretty touchy," I said.

  "My guys, too."

  “I doubt we are getting through thos
e barges stacked up against the bridge," I said. "It was bad enough coming down river in the day time. We can either waste a day trying to get through, or we can just start the next phase of our trip right here."

  "I favor starting here," Grady said. "I know you have some nice trucks and stuff stashed in Hickman, but even with that, we need to find some vans or box trucks to carry everyone. With those ninjas and enough gas, finding vehicles here should be easy. It isn't much farther from here to that ferry crossing on Kentucky Lake than it is from Hickman. All we are out is the recon you did over a week ago."

  "I'd like another day of downtime for Craig and Ben, but that isn't critical. Traveling at night will be a logistical problem. We have enough NVGs for each driver, but that limits how many ninjas we can deploy out front," I said.

  "We can probably travel night and day along some stretches," Grady said. "Especially with your ninjas. They will help us avoid hot spots. You seem to have good maps, too."

  "Our Tennessee atlas is great. It helped a lot on the way out," I said.

  "Good, that was one thing Andy didn't have, and no one from Ft. Sill would let us take with us. Paper maps are in short supply. Even the Army used tablets and computers. Some of those still work but not well, especially after the CME blew out our satellites. All of the planning expected most satellites would live through an event. Guess they were wrong," Grady said with a bitter edge to his voice.

  "Do you think Ft. Sill is viable?" I asked.

  "No," was his terse answer.

  I waited.

  "They are better off than many, they have a decent water supply. Medicine Creek is pretty reliable, although it is dependent on the lakes upstream. If they must, they can take over the dams. They were kicking that around when I left. The big trouble is heat and food. No one considered feeding the active duty personnel for more than a few weeks, and none of the plans covered the dependents. They had more dependents on the post than active duty," Grady said.

  "What about the rest of the population in Lawton, don't they outnumber people in Ft. Sill?" I asked.

  "At least twice as many. No food, no heat, no water, but a shitload of guns and ammo. Not just small arms either. We held on to the perimeter but ended up killing a lot of people. Some might have been gang bangers, but most were just scared people trying to find food, shelter, and water for themselves and their families. Late November was the worst, people were desperate but still had enough energy to make war. They are still desperate but months of being cold, without food or good water saps their energy," Grady said.

  "Sounds like what we've seen in most cities," I said.

  "The general still thinks rescue is coming from somewhere," Grady said. "He's hoping for an airlift of supplies before they run completely out of food. Since every other military facility is having the same problems, I think he is living in a fantasy realm.

  “The U.S. eliminated its last grain reserve in 2008. If I'd been in charge at Ft. Sill, my focus would be on getting enough seeds to plant this spring to feed everyone and to find out what it would take for the nearby oil fields to produce heating oil. But nobody put me in charge, so I guess we'll never know if that would have worked."

  I wondered how hard Grady fought to change the general's mind.

  Grady continued, "At least the Ft. Sill general was smart enough not to expel all dependents. A few places tried that, and they disintegrated. Not sure who if anyone is running those bases now. In hindsight, every military facility should have maintained some type of food and fuel reserve, but we didn't. It made it easy to volunteer for this mission. I was happy to volunteer, and the general was thrilled to have me out of his hair."

  "So, you really don't want to stop at Fort Campbell?" I asked.

  "No, generals in charge of U.S. posts are great bureaucrats with good political skills. They just aren't very entrepreneurial, they follow procedures. Even if they are brilliant and do everything perfectly, I fear their commands are still doomed. A small independent command would do well with good leadership, but large military facilities are like cities. There won't be any by year end," Grady said. "If we are lucky, good commanders will send troops and their families out to live in and protect communities who can feed them."

  That gave me a lot to think about. Maybe we could offer to bring in some surplus military personnel and their families. I wasn't that worried about feeding people if the weather cooperated and we expanded our supply of heirloom seeds. Having more trained troopers would be great, on many fronts.

  Fort Benning might be amenable to sending us some Rangers, it wasn't that much farther from the Valley than Fort Campbell. Jules and I could fly down there to talk over possibilities with Ranger command. Or, we could work out something over the airwaves, if Grady had the frequencies.

  Something to ponder while we waited for our people to report in.

  I fell asleep sitting up in the Jersey Girl wheelhouse, waking only when Mike radioed, "No contact. The birdies are returning to their roost."

  "Tweet, Tweet," radioed Joel.

  I swore Mike's quirky humor was starting to infect the team. I grimaced when I spotted Grady's raised eyebrow.

  "See you later this morning," I said, rising and ignoring the whole incident. I was actually pleased to hear the comments; Mike took Razor's death hard. I hoped this signaled he was on the mend. All of us suffered some aspect of survivor's guilt, but Mike was next to Razor when he bought it.

  I swore it was only minutes after I put my head down that someone rapped on our cabin door. My perception was wrong, my watch said 07:30; later than I expected. Sunrise came at about 07:00.

  Neither Jules nor I were morning people. The interrupted sleep patterns and lack of coffee precluded witty conversations. We communicated mostly in grunts as I dressed for travel. I finished assembling my ruck, just in case we left the boats this morning.

  I climbed up to the wheelhouse, and Jules left for the galley. Another cold crisp morning. The watery sun provided little heat to offset the piercing wind. The sun barely peeked over the southeastern horizon. Tucked against the barges and levees, the sun was just starting to reach the top deck. Frost covered the lower deck and railings.

  In daylight, the Mississippi River bridge loomed high above us on the upriver side. It felt like we were directly under it, even though I knew we were just downriver. I couldn't miss the straining pile of barges stacked against the bridge supports. Last night the rumble of our engines masked the ominous creaking and screeching of metal grinding on metal and concrete coming from the floating dam.

  I spotted the patrol boat moving slowly along the downstream side of the bridge. They were nearly three-quarters of the way across. From my angle, I couldn't see whether the knot of barges extended that far.

  "Good morning boss," Ben said as I stepped into the warm room. The heat was welcome after the chill on deck.

  I might growl at Jules, but I tried to do better with my team. "Morning, do you have a sitrep?"

  "Joel, Allie, and two of Grady's bunch took the patrol boat out as soon as it got light enough to see. It doesn't look good. My bet is we'll be starting out from here," Ben said.

  "Here is better than Memphis," I said. "Hell, it might be better than Hickman."

  "Yeah, Allie was studying the map pretty hard last night, scouting out possible routes," Ben said. "She says it's about the same distance to Huntsville as Hickman."

  "I only went north to Hickman on our way out because there wasn't much on the east side of the Mississippi River between Hickman and Memphis. As the crow flies, it is only 40 miles from here to Hickman but more than twice that in river miles," I said.

  "I saw a lot of river loops on the chart but didn't realize it was that bad," Ben said.

  "I suspect the river will cut off some of those loops within a few years, especially without the intervention of the Corps of Engineers. On the way down I was surprised the river hadn't bypassed New Madrid already," I said.

  "We'll need to push the Cumberland up on the
bank to unload her easier," Ben said. "No way we want everyone climbing up that pylon with the conveyor on top. Mike said it was difficult just hauling his ass up it."

  "I suspect you are right, no reason to complicate things," I said. The sunshine finally reached into the wheelhouse. While the sun didn't feel that warm, it melted the frost wherever it touched.

  The patrol boat was nearly to the far bank, still moving slowly along the edge of the bridge. I left Ben in the wheelhouse and walked down the stairs and into the galley. I was reluctant to give up the Cumberland. For more than a week it had been home. Trading it for the uncertainties of the road was more difficult than I expected.

  It was loud and standing-room-only in the galley, with the Tennessee road map the main attraction.