by Bobby Akart
The adrenaline rush was over and Alex realized that foraging through other people’s homes might become a part of their regular routine. In a way, humanity had gone full circle from shopper-borrowers to hunter-gatherers again.
Chapter 9
9:00 a.m., October 1
Main House
Shiloh Ranch
“Thank you, Javy,” said Stubby as his right-hand man left the room. Stubby asked Javy to retrieve the weapons that were not being used on patrol and bring them to the main house. He’d established weapons caches throughout the ranch. He didn’t want to keep all of the guns in one location and they would be useful in their perimeter defense if they were readily available.
“This is just a portion of our weaponry and ammunition,” started Stubby. “Some are buried in underground, waterproof containers for storage purposes. Others are readily available in outbuildings in case we find ourselves facing an overwhelming force.”
“Why don’t you keep them in a safe?” asked Madison.
Stubby walked to a closet door, which revealed a stand-up gun safe. “A traditional safe is hard to breach, but not impossible. If we are overrun, the intruders will find this and try to open it. Or they’ll drag it to an operating vehicle and take it with them. I felt like it was a good idea to provide them something so that they wouldn’t look for the rest.”
Spread across the floor was a variety of weapons, including nearly two dozen handguns, a dozen hunting rifles, several shotguns, and two battle rifles in the form of M16s.
“Won’t the guns buried underground rust?” asked Alex.
“Not the way I do it,” replied Stubby. “I bought six-inch PVC pipes with caps from the Lowe’s in Savannah. Each one of these holds a long rifle, a couple of pistols, and ammo for each. I oil them up real good, wrap them in towels, and place lots of desiccant packs in the tubes to absorb moisture.”
“Desiccant packs?” asked Madison.
“Yeah, they’re full of silica gel that helps keep items in shipping containers dry,” replied Stubby. “It sucks the humidity out of the tubes. Once the tubes were sealed, I sprayed them with a flexible rubber sealant to repel moisture.”
“Where did you hide these?” asked Alex, pointing to the several dozen firearms lying on the floor in front of them.
“I have secret compartments built into every structure on the ranch. Part of what we’ll do today is assign these to you and then return the rest to their designated hidey-hole. All of us need to know where the underground caches are, as well as the locations of ammo stores.”
“There are a lot of guns here,” said Colton.
“Alex and Chase really helped by adding to the arsenal,” said Stubby, smiling at Alex. “The additional weapons are nice, but the ammo is just as valuable. You guys did a great job finding these.”
“Well, I’m not too thrilled by the risk-taking,” interjected Madison as she reached to touch Alex on the shoulders. “You could’ve gotten hurt, honey.”
“Mom, we were safe. It was no different than the times Daddy and I checked out the neighbors’ homes.”
“It’s important to be careful when you make these runs,” said Stubby. “Unfortunately, yesterday’s haul proved that the risk can create a nice reward in the form of food and weapons. From now on, however, we’ll do this with a little advance planning rather than on a whim.”
Stubby gave each of the teens a stern look and then returned the Taurus nine millimeter handguns to the Ryman women together with new paddle holsters. “I cleaned these for you. One of the things I need to work with you both on is breaking down and cleaning your weapons. Keeping your guns well maintained will allow them to last for generations, but more importantly, they’ll operate safely. Like any tool, simple cleaning and oiling will ensure that it functions properly.”
“I’m going to keep using the AR-15,” said Alex.
Chase spoke up. “If we go hunting, Alex, I don’t think the AR is gonna make sense. You probably need to pick one of the rifles.”
“But I’m comfortable with this gun,” Alex shot back.
“So use it,” said Stubby. “A lot of folks think the AR-15 is made for self-defense, as a battle rifle. It’s perfectly capable of hunting different types of game from small varmints all the way up to deer and hogs. The size of the round is the key. Alex, your rifle is chambered for .223 Remington, or what’s known as NATO 5.56 millimeter rounds. I have plenty of sixty-two-grain ammo to fit the bill. As always, shot placement is the key.”
“I’m a good shot,” said Alex.
“So I’m told,” said Stubby. “I have an area set aside for target practice and to study your mechanics. Every day, in addition to our regular duties, we need to practice dry-fire drills in a wooded environment.”
Stubby handed Colton his Kel-Tec Sub-2000 and then approached Madison. “Madison, I understand you used the AR-15 once. Are you comfortable with it?”
“Not really,” she replied. “I don’t know how much help I’d be out there. I want to contribute, but honestly, I’d be more of a liability if we had to start shooting at people.”
Stubby smiled and put his arm around her. “Defense of the hacienda will be just as important as a battle in the woods. I have something in mind for you.” He reached down and picked up a short-barrel version of Alex’s rifle and handed it to Madison.
“It’s small, like a pistol almost,” said Madison as she weighed the weapon in her hands.
“This is one of two Trident Arms AR9s that we have. I bought one for Bessie and Emily, but Bessie is gonna let you have hers.”
The compact AR9 was built similar to an AR-15, but the shortened barrel made it easier to handle. Chambered in nine-millimeter rounds, it was a perfect complement to Madison’s PT111 and ideal for close-quarters defense. Most important to Stubby, Madison immediately became comfortable with the weapon. With practice, her confidence level would rise, which was the key to safe weapons use.
Stubby led the group consisting of the Rymans and the Allens to a shooting range he’d set up prior to the collapse. It was originally placed in a hollow near the river in order to prevent stray bullets from flying around. In the hollow, not only would the ravine act as a backstop, but the sound would remain within the dirt walls.
For the next couple of hours, Stubby gave everyone a common-sense tutorial on how to handle their weapons. He began to assess the strengths and weaknesses of each of the shooters. Colton and Jake were fairly accurate at mid-range shots of about two hundred yards. For Emily and Madison, he focused on shooting their pistols and the AR9s from ten to fifteen yards.
Stubby was impressed with Chase’s accuracy in middle- to long-range shots of three hundred yards. His weapon of choice was the Remington 700. A bolt-action rifle, the Remington was one of the most popular hunting rifles produced since its introduction in the early sixties. Using .308 Winchester ammunition, this rifle would take down any type of game or predator.
In order to set up the long-range targets, Stubby moved the group deeper into the ravine toward the river. Tree branches began to impact their ability to hit their target, but Stubby wanted to test their abilities. As they approached four hundred yards, only Chase and Alex were able to hit the target on a regular basis. Five hundred yards was the limit of their shooting range within the ravine.
“Chase has hunted more than I have,” said Jake. “We’ve learned that the bullet will drop as the distance from the target increases.”
“We’ve sighted our hunting rifles the same, although in a perfect world we’d set each rifle up for the individual’s capability,” added Stubby. “Depending on the circumstances, we may all have to use each other’s weapons. I’ve sighted the long-distance rifles in three inches high at one hundred yards. I know to aim three inches low at that distance and dead on at three hundred yards.”
Chase shot a few rounds at the target five hundred yards away. At first, he missed low and then he’d overcorrect and miss the target high. After six rounds, he hit the
target. He handed the rifle to Alex.
Alex rested the rifle on the bench Stubby had created for target practice. She adjusted the bipod and focused on the target. She took a deep breath and exhaled slightly before holding her breath.
She gently squeezed the trigger.
BOOM!
The shot echoed through the hollow.
“Hit!” shouted Stubby, who followed his trainee’s progress through long-range binoculars. “Slightly high right.”
Alex repeated the breathing process.
BOOM!
“Wow, dead on the money,” exclaimed Stubby as he lowered the binoculars. “I think we’ve found our human range finder.”
Chapter 10
9:00 a.m., October 3
Perimeter Watch
Shiloh Ranch
Javy was pleased to assign Snowflake, the Appaloosa horse, to Alex. The two had quickly developed a bond as Alex spent time feeding, grooming, and riding her around the ranch. This was their third day on patrol, and the two had grown at ease with each other. Alex studied Snowflake’s body language. Javy said to pay attention to her legs, face, and tail to gauge Snowflake’s attitude and comfort levels with her surroundings. Alex quickly learned that there was a lot more to riding a horse than jumping on a saddle.
She also was getting more comfortable around Chase. She understood that he was trying to impress her. Alex liked the attention and hoped that Chase would be himself rather than trying so hard.
The two rode in silence along the well-worn trail. Between the livestock and the horses, the path around the perimeter fencing of Shiloh Ranch allowed for an easy ride.
“I killed someone,” Alex blurted out as the two rode down a gradual embankment and crossed a small creek.
Chase’s head snapped in Alex’s direction, and he applied a little pressure to his horse with his heels to encourage the stallion up the other side. He turned and waited for Alex. “Say that again.”
“In Nashville, a man came after me, and I shot him. He died.”
Chase didn’t say a word for a moment, causing Alex to become uncomfortable. She didn’t have a particular reason to inform him of the shooting. In a way, she was trying to make conversation.
“What was it like?” asked Chase as Snowflake made the climb to join him.
Alex shrugged. “It all happened so fast. I went over to this boy’s house a few days after the power went out. I found his stepdad in the basement, beating on him. It was kinda dark, so I couldn’t see that well. All of a sudden, he charged at me and I pulled my gun and shot him twice.”
Chase stared at her for a moment and was speechless. Alex shook the reins and started down the path again.
“Were you scared?” asked Chase.
“Before I shot him, I was mad because he was beating up the kid. When his father came at me, I just reacted. I really never thought about what was happening. I drew the pistol and shot him.”
“Could you do it again?”
Alex nodded. “I had to shoot at people on the way down here. Now, it’s no big deal.”
“Kinda like playing video games, right?” asked Chase.
“I guess so. The way I figure it, if someone is trying to hurt me, I’m gonna defend myself. I wouldn’t shoot someone for the heck of it.”
The two picked up the pace and rode in silence for several minutes. Loud, excited voices interrupted the two teens’ thoughts.
“Come on!” shouted Chase as his horse galloped through a trail to their right and into an open clearing to the north.
“What’s that?”
“Those shouts are coming from the Wyatts’ place! Let’s go!”
Snowflake held her head high and let out a neigh. Without prompting, the Appaloosa gave chase. Alex realized that she had a lot to learn about controlling her new companion. The sudden movement almost threw her to the ground.
More shouts of alarm could be heard through the woods. As Alex entered the clearing, several riders were coming at a fast pace from the middle of Shiloh Ranch. Javy led the way as the sounds of hooves pounding the soil approached and then raced past her.
The riders descended upon a gate connecting the ranch to the farm owned by John Wyatt and his family. Chase dismounted and opened the gate for everyone to race through. Another shout prompted Javy to dig his heels into the side of his gelding as the duo raced into the woods where several of the Wyatt farmhands had congregated.
A crowd encircled a dead steer in a small, grassy clearing amongst the pines and oaks. Alex couldn’t get a look at the center of attention until Lucy Wyatt rode up and dismounted. Everyone stood aside as she worked her way past them.
Lying dead in the grass was one of the Wyatts’ steers. But it was more than dead. It had been brutally attacked.
Lucy fell to her knees next to the massive animal’s bleeding carcass and without hesitation put her hands in some of the gaping wounds.
“My God,” she muttered. “Someone’s taken a machete to this poor animal.” She picked up a chunk of the dead steer’s rear flank. “It’s still warm. Y’all, this just happened. Stand back, everyone.”
The crowd pushed away from the scene and pulled their horses out of the way. Lucy began to look through the grass and reached down to pick up a small tree branch.
“Fresh blood,” she started. “Whoever did this just left and they’re headed west towards the road.”
“Let’s get ’em,” hollered Tristan Wyatt, the oldest of the Wyatt children.
Chase worked his way next to Lucy. “Mrs. Wyatt, Javy and our boys will help too.”
“Thanks, Chase, we’d appreciate it.”
Chase turned to Javy and nodded his head. Then he looked to Alex. “C’mon, let’s go hunting. I’ve got a hunch.”
Alex returned to Snowflake and followed Chase as he doubled back to the farm gate. He didn’t bother to close the red steel gate as he cut the corner and raced along the fence row that separated the two properties.
When Chase had to slow his horse to navigate a dry creek bed, Alex caught up. “Whadya think?”
“There’s a busted-up cabin in the clearing where an old wagon road was carved out years ago. I put in a gate so we could ride four-wheelers through their woods. If somebody had a hideout, that deserted cabin would be it.”
Alex followed Chase down the trail as it narrowed and the tree branches began to overtake them. Suddenly, Chase stopped and held up his hand. He jumped off his horse and tied him off to a single rotting fence post.
She dismounted and joined him. They worked their way up to the gate and Chase directed her attention to the blood on top of the pine railing. Alex’s eyes got big and she leaned in to whisper to Chase, “Should we get the others?”
“No time,” replied Chase. “They might get away. Be ready.” Chase slowly lifted the gate latch and moved through the opening into a thick patch of rhododendrons until the two could get a better view of the cabin.
“I see smoke,” said Alex as she raised her rifle and studied the clearing through her scope. “It’s on the back side of the house. Are they having a cookout?”
“Low-down scum,” muttered Chase as he moved to his right along the edge of the clearing. As the two made their way through the woods, muffled voices could be heard.
Two men wearing jeans and sweatshirts stood over the fire. The machete used to attack the steer rested on a tree stump. A fire was roaring, and the men took turns placing pieces of raw meat on the end of a pitch fork, which created a makeshift skewer.
The two began laughing loudly, when Chase accidentally stepped on a twig, producing a loud crack. This caught the men’s attention, and one of them reached for the machete.
“Who’s out there?” hollered the man holding the pitchfork.
Chased raised his gun and pointed at the man closest to the machete.
“Chase,” whispered Alex, “let’s get the others.”
“No time,” said Chase as he pulled the bolt and chambered a round. The sound startled the man
with the pitchfork and he immediately ran in the opposite direction. The other man instinctively lunged for the machete.
BOOM!
The loud report of the Remington reverberated through the clearing and into the woods. The man fell in a heap and onto the stump before he could reach the machete. He was dead.
Alex was stunned and stood in shock for a moment. Chase bolted into the clearing and began running after the other man.
“Crap,” Alex said to herself as she pulled the charging handle of her AR-15 and carefully entered the clearing, scanning from side to side. Chase ran around the house to the right, so Alex went left.
She cautiously approached the corner of the dilapidated structure in time to see the other man running down the dirt driveway toward the road. Chase stopped, took a shooting stance, and chambered a round. He shot and missed. He tried again. Another miss.
Alex trained her weapon on the fleeing steer killer and focused her sights on his back. She gently flipped off the safety and slid her finger onto the trigger. With a deep breath, she paused and then lowered the weapon. She wasn’t going to shoot a defenseless man in the back no matter what he’d done to that poor steer. That was crossing a line she wasn’t prepared to cross.
Chapter 11
1:00 p.m., October 4
Front Gate
Shiloh Ranch
Jake and Stubby rode their horses to the front gate, where two ranch hands held a carload of men at gunpoint. The vehicle, an early seventies Chevy Kingswood Estate station wagon, was filled with boxes in the rear and four men who were standing at their doors. One of the men wore a uniform—Sheriff Junior Durham.
“What can we do for you, gentlemen?” asked Jake. Stubby stayed to Jake’s left, keeping his hand near his pistol. Stubby knew that Junior brought trouble. Also, he feared that the escaped marauder had identified Chase as the killer of his partner. Chase had explained that the killing of the man who attacked the steer was in self-defense, but Stubby didn’t buy the explanation. Alex hadn’t wholeheartedly endorsed Chase’s summary of the events either. Stubby suspected she was holding back or protecting Chase.
