DISASTER: Too Late to Prep

by Terry McDonald

  “I think we’re good to go,” Ada said.

  “I do too,” Max, agreed. “Tell you what. You stay here and keep listening. I’ll collect the devices.”

  Ada gave him the empty bag. It took him less time than Ada thought it would.

  “That was fast.”

  “I’m getting used to moving through the brush. You still haven’t heard or seen anyone?”

  “Nope. Nothing from the direction of your place either. I think the Captain is behaving like you projected and making the men rest.”

  “Good, but let’s continue assuming someone is hiding behind every tree. Don’t let your guard down.”

  “Yes Sir, General,” Ada said, giving him a mock salute. “I’ll lead again.”

  They encountered no problems. Ada led Max to the rear of the barn. She pointed to a small pile to the right of the open doors.

  “Pea gravel shrapnel. We’ll need to find a bucket. Five gallons of gravel should be enough. The second stall on the right is the one we’ll use as a work area. I’ll show you where the fertilizer is. Be careful with your bad arm carrying the bags to the stall. They weigh fifty pounds.

  “After that, get one of the five gallon cans of spare fuel from the tractor. I’ll find a bucket for the gravel and locate a funnel, and something to use to stir the mix.”

  “It’s dark inside the barn, Max said. How will we see to work?

  “Wait here, King kept flashlights on a worktable at the front entrance.”

  Ada put duct tape over the ends of two small LED flashlights leaving only a small opening for light to shine out. “Keep the beam pointed low,” she told Max, handing him one.

  Max set the bag of listening devices inside the stall and followed Ada. Along the way, she grabbed an empty five-gallon bucket.

  Several of the stalls held animals. Ada shined her light into them as they moved. “The captain’s competent, livestock’s been fed today.” She stopped at a stall with an open front.

  There were a dozen bags of ammonium nitrate fertilizer in two stacks, six high, on a raised platform to keep it dry. Max stepped onto the platform, and rather than use his injured arm for lifting, he maneuvered a bag in position to lift and carry it with one arm.

  By the time, he had the fertilizer and fuel in the stall, Ada had already dumped five gallons of gravel in a pile on the dirt floor. She was sitting cross legged in the dirt, holding her flashlight with her mouth, taking one of the listening devices apart, using a small, multi-tool she’d found on the workbench.

  She set the device aside, opened the knife blade on her tool, and handed it to Max. “Stand a bag of fertilizer on end and cut the top open. You’ll use the empty bucket to make the mix.”

  Max eyed the funnel, garden trowel, and the plastic containers she’d assembled. “Are you sure we’re not going to blow ourselves up?”

  “ANFO is a stable mix. The main danger lies in the detonators.”

  It only took a few minutes to show Max how to measure the proper amounts of the two ingredients for the ANFO.

  “After you’re sure you’ve blended the mix, stir in ten handfuls of gravel. I cut the funnel short to give it bigger mouth but you may have to wiggle it to make the mix flow into the jugs.”

  To illuminate his work area Max wedged his flashlight between two boards separating the stalls. He found it took quite a bit of effort and time to produce enough batches of the ANFO to fill the assortment of twelve, empty, one-gallon milk and bleach jugs.

  Ada had the sound-activated detonators ready before he finished. She began taping them to the bottles he’d filled. “I’ll make the final connection after we set them in place.”

  Max said, “One more batch and I’ll have enough for the last two bottles.” A tiny flash of light, seen from the corner of his eye against a board behind where Ada was sitting, caught his attention.

  “I think I just saw a flash of light.”

  Ada stood. “Keep working, we’re almost done. I’ll check it out.”

  She came running back to the stall, breathing heavily.

  “Vehicle on the road turned into the drive.”

  “Damn.” Max thought fast. He switched off his small work light. Let’s move all our stuff to the back wall of the stall and then hide in the loft. They may not even come in the barn. Hurry.”

  Working in the dark, they moved the prepared ‘jug bombs’ and all their supplies into a back corner of the stall. As they were leaving the stall to run for the loft stairs, headlights flared on King’s drive and then swerved toward the barn.

  Ada pushed Max back into the stall, sending him stumbling. He regained his balance as the vehicle slowed and entered the barn. He grabbed Ada and pulled her to the ground with him.

  He whispered urgently. “Roll against the side wall closest to the front. I’ll lay behind you.”

  The vehicle, Max couldn’t tell what type, stopped midway through the barn. The engine turned off, but for several seconds there was no sound of doors opening. Then two doors opened and slammed shut almost simultaneously. A man began speaking.

  Max could feel Ada trembling. He used his good arm to draw her tighter to him.

  “What the hell’s going on, Sergeant? I know you didn’t want me here to look at the fucking barn at night.”

  “You’re correct, Sir, but I couldn’t talk at the house, too many ears. It’s the Dobbs boys, especially Billy Ray. I want permission to kill him.”

  “He is an aggravating piss.”

  “Captain, he won’t take orders from me and he’s causing some of the other’s to be insubordinate. Is there any reason I can’t just shoot him?”

  “Just shoot him. No. We need to make an example of someone so this gang knows who the boss is. Billy Ray has a great many relatives among our new troops. Kill him and we’ll be watching our backs from then on.”

  “There are only four of them we need to worry about. I say, kill the bunch.”

  “Damn, Sergeant, you’re a blood thirsty bastard aren’t you? Fucking Billy Ray asked me today to make him an officer so he wouldn’t have to put up with, in his words, ‘no bullshit Sergeant giving him orders.’ I told him I’d think about it.”

  “You make him an officer and it may be me gunning for your back. Seriously Captain, I want to shoot the bastard in the face.”

  “Okay. Let’s make it an official action. It won’t hurt to instill a fear of authority in these yahoos. Write a report about his conduct. I expect a few more of our group to come in later tonight or early morning and then our trained troops will be in the majority. Tomorrow, we’ll assemble the men in front of the big house and read Billy Ray his charges, find him guilty and you can execute him in front of the troops.

  “What about his kin?”

  “Knowing them, as soon as the formation is dismissed, they’ll make a run for their weapons. We gun them down.”

  “And good riddance to them, Captain. After we kill the niggers in Toccoa, we’ll be adding at least another five or six hundred troop to our command from the white citizens there.”

  Max felt Ada start. She tensed the full length of her body.

  “I’ve rethought killing all the niggers. This property is a perfect headquarters for our force. It sits high on a hill and overlooks acreage ready for spring planting. We’ll need some heavy duty laborers for the short term.”

  “What?”

  The captain laughed as the Sergeant’s response. “Naw, what am I thinking. Kill em all, especially the little breeders. Not the good-looking women though. All pussy’s pink inside. Get in the truck and drive, Sarge. I’m ready for a nightcap. Why does this barn smell like diesel fluid?”

  “Probably from the tractor. I’ll have one of the men check it.”

  The men boarded their vehicle and left. Max released his grip from Ada and helped her to her feet. He could hear her dusting off her clothing.

  “Max, I’m ready to plant some bombs.”

  Because of Max’s injuries, most of the labor involved with posit
ioning the bombs fell on Ada. They used an aluminum extension ladder to access the tree limbs overhanging the drive in front of King’s house. An hour later, they were in the hayloft shifting bales to clear a space large enough for them to make their bed pad near the hay gate at the front of the barn.

  Ada arranged loose straw and rolled their bedding on top.

  “You know what’s strange, Max? I want to kill a bunch of blacks too.”

  “It doesn’t matter what color a banger is, but the Captain and his man Hicks have another agenda. Ada, I hope we kill everyman-jack of the bangers tomorrow. Listening to those two was disgusting. No, they were beyond disgusting. Their way of thinking is alien to me, almost incomprehensible, but for darn sure, reprehensible.”

  “Ruben and his gang are no better. Max. I feel like my heat drained. I can’t stop shivering.”

  “Me too,” Max said. He pulled the blanket over them. “I’m glad you didn’t blow us up.”

  ***

  The distinctive sound of a vehicle door slamming shut startled them from sleep. A man shouted, “Freeze or I’ll fucking shoot!”

  Max and Ada crawled to the hayloft door, blinking at the bright sunlight. A pickup was on the graveled drive in front of King’s home. The driver, wearing camo with military insignia stood with his rifle pointed at the front porch. A skinny tall man with tangled, unkempt sandy-blond hair sheltered with his body a woman and two small girls standing near the door to the house.

  “We were looking for food, Mister. We don’t want any trouble. Our kids are hungry.”

  “This here’s private property and you’re trespassing.”

  “Mister, we don’t want trouble. We’ll leave and not come back.”

  “Naw, bud, you done messed up. I’ll let the Captain deal with you.

  The man with the rifle used it to motion toward the barn.

  “Get your sorry asses over to the barn.”

  The family left the porch and began walking, the man, and woman still pleading for release.

  Ada whispered to Max, “We have to help them.”

  “We can’t shoot him.” Max responded. “The bangers will hear it at my place. Christ, we might even make the bombs explode.”

  Ada slipped Otis’s knife from the scabbard at her side and nudged Max to take it. He saw what she was offering.

  “Ada, I only have one good arm.”

  “Go to the bottom of the stairs. I’ll clobber him with a bale of hay and knock him down. Just run over and stab him while he’s confused. Hurry, they’re almost here.”

  Max took the knife. Moving as silently as he could, he ran across the floor of the loft and down the stairs. Praying he had time, he raced to an open stall and ducked inside just as the children reached the entrance, two brown haired little girls about nine and ten years old. The mother and father herded them in, still pleading with their captor.

  The man with the rifle shouted at them. “Shut the fuck up.” He began rummaging on a workbench near the doors. Max saw him turn from it, holding a coiled length of electrical wire.

  He prodded the father with the barrel of his rifle. “Move down the stalls to an empty one. I reckon the woman can tie you and the kids. Me and her’s got some business to attend to before the rest show up.”

  The group moved under the opening to the loft. Max saw Ada standing at the edge. She held a hay bale over her head, ready to throw. Max gripped the knife, tried to stop shaking and steel himself to move.

  The moment came, and Ada was dead on accurate. The bale hit the banger’s head and drove him to the ground. Max was moving the second Ada threw. The man was scrambling to his feet, his back facing Max, seemingly unaffected by the weight of the hay hitting him.

  Max held the knife high, stabbing down with the intent to bury it between the banger’s shoulder blades. The man twisted to turn and the blade ripped into and out of his upper arm. Blood spurted from the wound.

  Unprepared for the man’s movement, Max lost his balance. The knife fell from his hand as he attempted to break his fall with only one arm. Before he could regain his feet, the banger kicked him in his side, knocking the breath from his lungs. Cursing, the banger continued to deliver punishing kicks.

  Max covered his head with his arms while attempting to breathe and scurry to his feet. He could feel the man’s blood falling on him. He heard a loud thump and the kicking stopped. He gained his footing and turned to see Ada slamming the bangers face with a shovel.

  The man was flat on his back, nose beaten to a pulp and bleeding lacerations on his cheeks and forehead. She swung the shovel again, turning the blade sideways and chopped his face, hitting his mouth. Teeth shattered and blood spouted. Somehow, despite the blows, he was alive, trying to push his body with his feet. Max spied the knife on the dirt near the children and grabbed it. He caught Ada’s shovel on the back swing, pushed her aside, and then knelt to plunge the knife to the hilt into the man’s chest. He rose from the ground and looked at the family gathered in a close nit group staring in horror at the bloody man.

  Ada came to stand beside him. “Max, we need to get out of sight. The Captain and all the bangers will be coming soon.”

  “He’s still moving,” the older of the two girls, shouted.

  Ada turned faster than Max, moved to the prone man. She jerked the knife from his chest and buried it in his throat. Blood blossomed, spraying her arm and upper body.

  She leapt to her feet. Attempted to wipe the blood from her face with a hand, while at the same time, turning in circles, saying, “Shit, shit, shit.”

  The mother of the group removed a sweatshirt, one of many layers of clothing she wore, went to Ada and began helping her clean the blood from her face.

  Max, stunned by the turn of events, felt paralyzed, unable to move. The father of the girls grabbed his arm.

  “Did she say there’re more like him coming?”

  “Yes, a lot more.”

  “We need to get out. Get away from here.”

  Max shuddered, shrugging away the inertia that gripped him. “No, we don’t have time. They’ll be here any minute. Grab the man’s legs and drag him into a stall. You and the kids cover him with hay. Ada. Ma’am. We need to rake the bloody dirt.” He turned to the father, holding up his splinted arm as he did. “Grab his legs, I said. My arm’s broken.”

  Minutes later the sound of engines on the road added urgency to their clean up.

  Max said, “That’s good enough. Take the rake and the rags with you and get up the stairs. Move it. Go.”

  He continued giving instructions as they rushed up the stairs. “Mister, we’ll find a place for you all to hide. Ada, go to your gun at the hay door. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Max helped the man and woman shuffle bales to make a space to hide in. “Keep the kids quiet.”

  Ada was near the loft door, lying prone, holding her rifle. He could see a trail of blood from her clothing marking the route she’d used to crawl. Max lay down and squirmed to her side, reaching for his rifle as he did.

  “Are you hurt?” He whispered.

  “No, Stay low. The trucks are coming up the drive. Are you hurt?”

  “He came damn close to breaking my ribs, but I’m functional.”

  The trucks stopped near King’s house and the men disembarked. Max could see the equipment and boxes of supplies the bangers had removed from his home and barn.

  Ada whispered, “Look. The Captain’s going onto King’s porch carrying the megaphone.”

  Max slid his rifle into position, propped on a bag of dog food. Ada followed suit.”

  “Remember, Max. If they carry through with their plan to execute Billy Ray, we fire at the bell an instant after the gunshot. Between the noise of his weapon and the bell, the detonator on the jugs below the bell should trigger.”

  The captain began speaking, his amplified voice loud. Max flinched, expecting the volume of sound to trigger the bombs. Ada had told Max that she didn’t anticipate that happening because the megaphone
directed sound outward from the porch.

  “Sargent, have a man move the pickup from our formation area. After we finish here, I want the man who left it unattended reprimanded.”

  Max and Ada waited with fingers on triggers while a man climbed into the truck and drove it away.

  The Capitan again spoke into the megaphone, “Gentlemen, we made good time this morning. I want to congratulate you on a job well done. The lead truck has the MREs. Thirty minutes for lunch. After lunch, the sergeant will call assembly for important announcements. Enjoy the meal. Tonight the women will provide us with a home cooked, sit-down supper.”

  Max released his tense position and moved his rifle back to his side.

  “Thirty more minutes.”

  “I’m glad.” Ada moved her rifle from the ready position. “Max, it sure is hard to kill a person.”

  “We had to do it.”

  “No, I mean it’s hard to kill a person. I hit that banger with a bale of hay. You sliced his arm with a knife and you hit an artery, he was spurting blood. I dropped down from the loft, clobbered him in the back of his head with a shovel, and knocked him down. I beat his face in. I flattened his face. You stabbed him in the chest, but damn if I didn’t have to cut his throat to finally kill him.”

  Max shuddered twice during her retelling. “He didn’t want to be dead. You’re right, but I think it’s because we don’t have a clue about how to kill properly.”

  “No we don’t, it’s not like we’ve assaulted anyone before. When the bomb goes off, it probably won’t kill everyone. The blast and shrapnel will kill and wound the majority of them. There’s a chance some of the bangers will remain uninjured.

  “We learned a valuable lesson Max. People are hard to kill. After the bombs explode, shoot the mobile survivors first, then the injured. When we think they’re all dead let’s shoot ‘em a few more times and then wait and watch to be positive. I can’t take another go-round like we had with the man downstairs.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Max agreed. “I’m going to check on the family. Be right back.”

  Max crawled along the loft floor to where the family was concealed. He slid aside the corner of a triple high stack of bales to allow access to their hiding place.