Clem's Contrivance: Terrorist Fiction In The Deep South (The Apocalyptic Rifle Book 1)

by Ron Foster

  Clem’s

  Contrivance

  Ron Foster

  Alabama, USA

  © 2015 by Ron Foster

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13:

  978-1508627500

  ISBN-10:

  1508627509

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Acknowledgements

  Henry Repeating Arms

  SilverFire Stoves

  KeyholeFarms.com

  The Garden Tower Project

  Texas Tomato Cages

  1

  All Are Safely Gathered

  ‘It is not the strongest species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the ones most responsive to change’ – Darwin

  Two barge loads of sick, weary and struggling survivors had been brought over to the boat landing on the plantation and Crick, David and Loomis had gone back over to Castaway Island for a final trip to retrieve the rest of the stranded preppers. Clem stood by the chow line next to the make shift soup kitchen counting off seven to ten people while touching them lightly on the shoulder and calling out the words for vegetable or type of crop. This was his odd old style sharecropper way of trying to organize everyone into different types of labor gangs or smaller more manageable units in order to organize the survivors by skills or general physical fitness for necessary given tasks. He had explained to everyone earlier in the day before he began this strange process that there was no way he could remember everyone’s names right off and that it was necessary for him to form groups to assign various jobs and tasks now instead of letting everyone mill around in an unorganized free for all.

  He said that this designating folks routine was only a temporary thing and if you didn’t like the group you were in or your leader, arrangements could be made later for a transfer or other assignment but for the next few weeks just live with it. Each work gang was a “stick” and a work shift was called a tower.

  “Now then line up and remember your section, cotton, cotton cotton, potato, potato, potato, tobaccy, tabaccy, turnip, turnip turnip etc.” Clem counted off as he assessed, scrutinized and delegated everyone to a unit or a stick as he termed it. Nobody really knew what the reason was for being assigned to a particular crop but it soon became apparent that all the sick or invalids were assigned to the potato group. When asked how he come up with that name for them, Clem said that in professional wrestling when a person who was getting too much pressure applied to them from a hold or something that they would whisper potato or just say tater and the other wrestler would let up on them ‘cause it was used as a universal safe word that means ‘quit the game or something was hurting too much’ and the show would keep going on without anyone getting unduly injured. He reminded everyone that word didn’t mean anyone was giving up, just that they needed some pressure taken off them and those folks he assigned to the tater group looked to him to need more relief and easier tasks than the others.

  When the groups were finally all served and seated around in the shade of an oak grove, Clem advised them to choose a temporary leader for the group they were assigned to and for whoever got elected to come write their name in his work book when they finished eating. He explained that there was just too many folks for him to be talking to all at once and that it would be the stick leader’s responsibility to relay any news or orders down to his group and help organize them to insure a task was completed satisfactorily.

  There was a bit of confusion and grumbling amongst the survivors as to just who in the hell this crotchety old man was and why he of all people was suddenly the head honcho of them all and task master of this place, but they just went along with his orders and played wait and see before offering any direct objections in his direction. Matter of fact there was very little said at all as the dog tired weary travelers ate bowls of a watery soup containing field greens that Bertha and Rossy Ross had cooked up. The meal was made more nourishing with the wonderful addition of tiny bits of scarce meat and country style dumplings thrown in for everyone to rejoice over.

  David and Crick lead the final group of survivors over to the chow area after securing the barge they had been transported across the river on and Loomis began going from group to group to check on those who had already eaten and further see to their welfare.

  “ Clem I guess I need to get whoever has finished eating and resting for a moment motivated and started to pitching tents over at the campgrounds.” Crick said watching the final procession of people lining up to get some much needed food out of the barely sufficient remnants in the pots.

  “That can wait a bit Crick, I got to finish organizing here and then me and Bertha want to give a speech. Hang on a second David; I got to explains to these people you just brought over what’s going on here and what is expected out of them if they gonna stay around here for a bit.” Clem declared before telling everyone in line to hold up for a minute and then explained his work group naming scheme before allowing the ravenous survivors to pass by and be named to a group as they received their bowls of soup.

  “Tomato, Onion, Kale, one two three four five six seven, mule” Clem chanted and stood back and surveyed the huge group of destitute souls who were mostly too tired and too happy to be off the island and be getting their first real meal in weeks to care what was going on and what this old man was doing scampering around or even caring what his weird classifications meant.

  “Which group am I assigned to?” Loomis asked as he walked up from the oak grove.

  “Oh you not assigned to nobody but the staff of the big house. That’s what we going to call the group of leaders who give the final decisions and judgments’ on things that need sorting out. That’s not to say you can override me and Bertha’s decisions mind you, but I think it’s best if folks look to you all as the higher power in things if they got a grievance or complaint to see about resolving. When everyone’s done eating their supper Bertha wants to say a little prayer and I got me a speech I need to give. We’re lucky she ain`t making them all say grace as they get their chow! “Clem said going to look to see if there was anything left in the hog scalding pot they were using to distribute the soup from and looking wistful as Bertha shook her head no at his evident interest in looking for a bite to eat.

  “There aren’t nothing left Clem and I`s is more worried and nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chair now what we going to do with all these peoples.” Bertha said wiping the sweat off her brow and achy and tired physically herself from serving up so many people and you could see the nervous twitch of worry in her furrowed brow from having to look into the faces of so many miserable but oh so grateful needy people. She had been thanked and blessed by more strangers today than she had her whole life and it broke her heart she couldn’t give a bit more food to the neediest but there was only enough to give everyone the same small portion.

  “Don’t worry yourself too much Bertha, The Lord and hard work will see us through like it always been. I just wish the big man up in the sky wasn’t so mad at this world of sinners at the moment.” Clem declared thinking like so many people in the world today, just like a lot religious or otherwise people did after a disaster. that somehow humanity had offended a higher power and had incurred their wrath. A lot of folks superstitiously claimed or had some religious reasoning why they suspected that a cosmic being was now inflicting misery on them because of man’s wavering sinful ways had somehow brought about the famine, pestilence and plaques they saw on the horizon.

  ‘No disrespect Clem but
its those damn terrorists and their post-apocalyptic religious notions that started this shit to begin with, that is another thing we need to talk about. I am not worried too much about anyone carrying any communicable disease worse than a cold at the moment because they have all been isolated together on that island and ain`t showing any ill effects except personnel or general maladies. But if we see any more strangers around here we need to be thinking about quarantining them for a week or two if we going to take them in.” David said alluding to outside biological hazards that could possibly devastate the already weakened and most likely greatly immune reduced or deficient survivors.

  “Are you suggesting that maybe the terrorists are going to use a bio weapon, David?” Loomis asked cringing at the notion at the thoughts of terrorists having weaponized Ebola or something.

  “If they got access to a bioweapon they will likely try to use it if they can see any advantage in it.” David began before Clem cut him off with a worried question.

  “You mean like when the British gave them small pox infected blankets to the Indians way back in the day?” Clem started to ask before a worried Bertha chimed in.

  “Small pox! Who got the small pox? Oh Lordy we all gonna die.” Bertha wailed gathering the folds of her apron and starting to daub a tear from her eye.

  “Taint nobody got no smallpox or nothing yet Bertha, you over worrying yourself again. David was just saying them terrorists might try to spread some kind of disease around to weaken folks and for us to be extra careful about getting around strangers.” Clem explained to a confused Bertha.

  “I got to start making me some medicines right now then! You give me one of those work crews you created to start working with and start using some of them chilluns to be recognizing and gathering the roots and herbs I will be needing’. You knows you can’t’ just go out in the woods in any season and start looking for what you want without lookin’ at also the best times and the seasons for potency, the fullness of the moon, whether or not herb thinks it’s a light of day crop or a dark of the moon root crop. Some things also needs to be harvested by the light of the moon. Other things like thinks it needs to be harvested in the dark of the moon like if you have bowel troubles to be more effective. Plants they got signatures, if you can read their signatures and then you can harvest them right, get them when they are at their most efficient...” Bertha began before Clem started looking at her worriedly as she started scrutinizing some of the rescued survivors.

  “Well Clem these are all strangers to us and to some each other, how do we know there ain`t no terrorists amongst them? I done shook more hands, received more hugs as thanks for dinner than a body knows and one woman even kissed me today.” Bertha said rubbing her apron hem over the spot on her cheek where a grateful woman gave her a loving peck.

  “These folks is fine, they just wore out a might, they kind of sickly I give you that, but they ain`t contagious. You need to brew us up a big batch of your spring tonic for them and help build up their bodies again but don’t you be dosing anyone with that turpentine based crap you make. That’s liable to kill them.” Clem warned thinking it was hard enough to live through some of Bertha’s “CURES” when you were well let alone about give out.

  “Oh I be careful, I knows how to administer to sick puppies. I have them folks all strutting around like spring chickens in no time. You be sure though to tell Rossy Ross to be careful and not to be carrying no blankets she finds in her wanderings home though Clem, ok? I don’t want no terrorist’s germs getting a foothold in here before I can recognize what disease is going on and brew a batch of special elixir.” Bertha said looking over the much refreshed but still sick in body and spirit mass of humanity that she was now in some kind of charge of as doctor and cook and wondering if them terrorists had plans to be giving away any of them diseased blankets to needy folks that they had been causing problems for aplenty enough. That reminded her, she better save some coal oil in case she saw any of her patients getting head lice or such.

  “I will be sure to tell Rossi, Bertha not to be carrying anything home without checking with us. Where is that wild girl at anyway, she should have been back by long before now.” Clem said looking off in the distance at the road that led into the boat landing. Clem had surreptitiously sent Rossy off on a mission somewhere just after the first barge full of refugees had landed about six hours ago and Bertha advised him now she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the little wood nymph anywhere and was starting to worry herself.

  “She be along shortly Bertha, you know her, she got no sense of time except sun up and sun down and gets distracted easily, hang on! Well speak of the devil, matter of fact there she is coming over there!” Clem said pointing up towards the road as heads turned to see a lithe figure dogtrotting down the road with a single shot shotgun loosely held in one hand and a worn patched shoulder bag bouncing along in the other.

  Bertha studied the distant jogging figure of a young girl for a moment before telling Clem and the rest they needed to head her way because something about the teenagers gait told her something was amiss and needed to be paid attention to.

  “She sure is looking kind of tired and afraid Clem; no sense her running back all that way from where you sent her if everything was alright.” Bertha said speculating.

  “Where did you send her off to Clem?” Crick said hurrying along with the rest of the group towards the exhausted looking figure coming down the dusty road at staggering lope.

  “I tell you later, right now let’s find out what happened and see if we need to circle the wagons or something. Could be got strangers or trouble heading our way she wants to tell us about.” Clem declared and started doing his own shuffling jog in her direction as Bertha picked up the pace and skirts but just sort of rolled along advising those more suited to running not to be waiting on her and go see what was needed.

  “Rossy Ross! What in the world ails you child?” Clem said somewhat breathless himself as he held the child with heaving lungs at arms distance in a paternal once over glance manner to examine her for cuts or bruises while she caught her breath enough to talk to him.

  “Cannibals! They’s prisoners being herded through the woods up by my treasure ship! We gots to get going and go rescue them Clem.” Rossy Ross panted out wide eyed with fright.

  “How many of them Rossy? How many guns they got?” Clem said trying to make sense out of the child’s outburst.

  “Catch your breath darlin, talk real slow and tell old Bertha all about what you have seen baby. We will head out and go fix their wagons soon enough. Are you hurt at all? Did they threaten you in any way sugar?” Bertha said gripping her hickory pokie stick and wishing Clem had let her bring along her rifle today to take care of whatever varmints had scared her honey child.

  “Quit mothering that poor girl, Bertha. Give her some room to breathe and quit squishing her so hard or she won’t be able to talk at all.” Clem said watching Bertha smother the poor creature between those enormous bosoms that she had.

  As Rossy surfaced for air, David and crew looked to the end of the road vigilant for any signs of impending danger and checked the availability of their holsters as they listened intently for more explanations as to the actual nature of the threat.

  “It’s that crazy man “P D” Clem! He done finally lost it I reckon! I saw him herding what looked like two families in chains headed towards the old Stovall Marina about an hour ago. There was only one gun that I could see Clem. That old man manager of his was carrying an old lever action 30-30 but Punch Drunk was a ’pushing and a shoving and a threatening them along with a tire iron in his belt.” Rossy said in a rushed exasperated breathless voice.

  “I told you Clem, now he has done gone off the deep end finally lost it completely. I told you over and over that crazy old heathen was going to lose it someday and cause some damage or mischief that we couldn’t fix up. Don’t you worry yourself none, Rossy, he ain`t eaten’ no one today. He might be eatin’ nothing from here on out if I gets arou
nd him and he thinking about harming anyone innocent! He won’t have no teethies to chomp on nothing if he gets within whomping distance of me!” Bertha said looking fierce while raising her pokey stick and standing like she was Moses about to part the Red Sea.

  David narrowly managed to avoid her hickory stick himself that he estimated by its swishing sound most have got within an eighth of an inch of his ear as she suddenly brandished it in her rage and decided he needed to step away from this crazy formidable old black woman and give her some space. Clem was looking real agitated and angry himself at the moment but before letting him continue with his interrogation of the girl, David asked calmly “Only one rifle? That sounds kind of odd to me to only have one if you’re guarding prisoners. Where do you think they’re going Clem?” David asked, trying to take it all in as to what in the hell one man with a rifle was doing escorting chained prisoners through the woods and for what purpose. The fact that they had just recently heard old chicken thief Will’s harrowing story of murderous cannibalistic predators taking fresh meat off the roads in the form of walking stock humans was stuck in the back of his mind as much as everybody else’s and it was hard to escape such a vile thought and consider other possibilities.

  “I ain`t sure where they are going or what they are doing, David. There’s nothing’ down that way but an old marina building and a mud flat where the dock used to be as far as I know. There might be one other thing down that way he might be seeking out but as far as I know he don’t know about the treasure ship, leastways I don’t think he knew.” Clem said looking to Bertha and Rossy Ross for affirmation or admission to leaking their secrets to anyone off the plantation.

  “What the hell is a treasure ship?” Loomis asked quite intrigued.