“You’re squishing my guts out,” Chris told them theatrically and then blew a raspberry at them when Sandra put him down.
“You better watch that, your face might freeze like that,” Duncan said and they all cracked up again.
+++++
The construction of the spring house started almost immediately with most of the idle hands available helping out. They dug down the side wall of the barn until they found where an earthen pipe came out. It was quite deep and they considered trenching all of it out until somebody pointed out they still had to dig out the foundation of the spring house itself. They decided to start digging every twenty feet down the hill until they came to a spot that was perfect for what they wanted to do, and was situated enough away from the toe poppers that the kids wouldn’t be a problem. They started to dig with shovels and picks, Blake using his old tractor and the back blade to scrape it out as much as he could. The spring house ended up being roughly twenty foot by twenty.
Curt took Blake’s chainsaw and headed into the North West side of the property with one of the quads. The homestead could hear several trees coming down and the buzz of the saw and soon they saw him driving slowly, a tow rope dragging the main trunk of a pine tree. He’d already trimmed it and the nubs were the limbs were, were digging gouges in the pasture grass. Blake nodded when he saw it and smiled. That was going to be one of the main beams and he began explaining how to build and brace it. It took many trips to get enough wood and Blake had Duncan sat down to discuss the one part they had overlooked. The gravel.
“You know, there are coal mines all over this state. What are the chances we can find something already loaded and use the old semi we found?
“Hm…” Blake mused, “I don’t know honestly. We can always do it a little bit at a time… we have what’s left of summer.
“We’ll figure something out,” Duncan said.
“You always do,” Sandra’s voice cut through the reverie. “That kiddo is on the radio and asking for you,” Sandra told him.
Blake stood and made sure his cane was handy and walked up the hill slowly.
“You ok there old man?” Sandra poked him in the side, almost making him jump.
“Yeah, just stiff from sitting. I’m glad we’re doing this, we really needed something like this and—“
“And some of them needed the work. Idle hands and all of that,” Sandra finished the thought for him.
Blake gave his wife a quick kiss, “Why do I even bother talking if you already know what I’m going to say?”
“Exactly!” Sandra poked him and ran up the hill.
Blake smiled. For such a dangerous warrior, there was still more than a little bit of the carefree girl left in his wife. Even the grid going down and all the danger hadn’t taken that away from her, and Blake’s heart swelled. Chris ran down the hill where he had been playing with some kids to shadow Blake on the way back up.
“Hey dad, your house thing almost done?” Chris asked.
“Getting there. What are you up to?”
“Some of the rabbits had babies. They’re everywhere! And the chickens are sitting on some eggs now and…”
“Things are getting busy here, aren’t they?” Blake asked.
“Yeah! Isn’t it really neat?”
“It sort of is little buddy, it sort of is.”
+++++
“Z, this is Blake, how you doing kiddo?”
An exaggerated sigh came out of the radio and David laughed into his hand when she answered, “I’m good. I need a way to recharge these batteries for this unit and I tried the trick of that AC DC converter with car batteries and it doesn’t work, over.”
“Oh… that’s because the circuit in the AC/DC converter is probably fried. Let me think a minute,” Blake said. “What kind of batteries are they? Over,” Blake asked her.
She told him and it didn’t do much for his understanding. “I don’t know—“
“Excuse me Blake, I may have a solution,” A voice cut in. Not one he recognized.
“Sure, by all means,” Blake said looking to see that they were on an open frequency.
“Miss, I was listening the day you found that radio. If you go back to where you found it, there’s a bound to be a charger. Your unit has a USB plug on it, yes?” The voice was cultured and without any discernible accent.
“Yes?” Z answered.
“Ah good, it works much like your American’s smart phones. It has a box you can plug in a battery pack or plug the cord into the side of the unit. They are EMP shielded, so they should work here. A cigarette lighter male adapter is what they use. You can rig up a female adapter to any twelve volt source and charge it that way. There are more twelve volt sources than you can imagine.” The voice replied.
They were all silent a moment, equally considering the message as much as how it was delivered. It wasn’t lost on Blake that the stranger had said ‘your American’s smart phones’, and the wording.
“Where are you from Comrade?” Blake asked, taking a shot in the dark, knowing many Russian Block countries had made up much of the Southern seaboard from transmissions coming out of Georgia, Alabama and south Florida.
“Georgia, over.” The voice said amused.
“Country or state?” Patty asked Blake.
“Does it really matter?” Blake asked.
“Hey, I think I remember seeing a box like that. It had these big clips on one end like a battery charger has, thanks! Over,” Z said.
“She didn’t need me after all,” Blake told Sandra smiling.
“No, but maybe everyone can start pulling together, even if it’s over the radio to help. What was your take on the guy from ‘Georgia’,” She asked making air quotes with her fingers.
“He knows a lot about the hardware she’s talking about. Do you think it’s a defector or…?”
“Hard to say. From what we’ve heard from John, there have been defections, but they are at risk just as much or more from the big camps. I guess we’re too far out in the country for them to worry about us… Do you think we should reach out to folks like them, they should have some good intel?” Sandra asked.
“You’re more the expert than I am, why are you asking me?” Blake poked at his wife with a finger grinning as she dodged out of the way.
“You might not have the same experience, but you are the kind of guy who looks at a broken part and figures out how to fix it or build it up better, even if you don’t have the right tools or equipment. It’s guys like you—“ she broke off and wiped her eyes.
“Don’t cry mommy,” Chris said, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“I just… I’m sorry. It’s too early for me to claim hormones, so maybe the whole thought of Chris and the baby growing up in this is getting me down. That talk dad had earlier… where they never expected things to get better—“
“Guys like me need women like you, to hold us up and keep us strong. I’ve learned so much from you. It’s why I’m not worried or sad about this. Together we can do anything. Even survive a zombie apocalypse.”
“Zombies?” Chris almost shouted startling everyone.
“No no, I didn’t really mean zombies, Chris. I meant—“
“Brains….” Chris started to stagger around the room dragging a foot, holding his arms out.
Everyone cracked up at that and Lisa walked in the room to catch the end of his theatrics. Lisa rolled her eyes and hooked a finger in Patty’s direction. Patty got up and headed towards the kitchen.
“Where’d you learn that?” Blake asked, still chuckling.
“Cartoons. Everybody knows zombies eat your brains,” Chris told Blake earnestly.
“Zombies are pretend. They aren’t real, Hon.” Sandra told him.
“Are zombies really pretend?” Chris asked David, hoping for a friendly answer.
“Naw, they’re pretend… but if they were real, your mom and dad here would be master zombie slayers.” David said deadpan and smiled when Chris busted up in g
iggles.
“Ok, really though,” Blake said, his tone changing, “About the defectors… They are people too. I’m sure they came here to get a better life, just like every one of our ancestors did.”
Sandra thought about that a moment, biting her lip and then she nodded.
“Ok, let’s keep an ear out for them. I don’t want us or anyone listening out there suckered into a trap.”
“Yeah, but I don’t see how that’s any more dangerous than everything else that’s gone on out there.” Blake told her.
“Very true, you never know who you can trust,” Patty said, walking back into the room with Lisa, a grin on her face.
Chapter 10 -
Talladega FCI
“I hope that you weren’t harmed,” the commander was telling Michael as they sat together at lunch time.
“No, no sir. It was just a small disagreement. I liked my shoes much better than the prisoner,” Michael told him, leaving out King’s involvement or the shank.
“This is why people think we are using them as forced labor, if we could be resupplied more often, then supplies such as gloves, shoes and sanitary supplies would go a long way into making conditions easier I think.”
“Probably, sir. Just by my bunk alone, half a dozen men have no shoes or they wash their jumpsuits in the sinks on their days off and walk around in their boxers and then wash those when the jumpsuits are dry.” Michael told him after pausing to consider his phrasing.
“Do you or the people who you are talking to know of a solution of this? Your countries infrastructure is what’s truly making this difficult… for example, the materials are out there within this country. The problems arise from the general lawlessness that’s been happening as of late and the difficulties in identifying where such things are kept,” the commander told him and then held up a finger as his radio squawked.
While Commander Lukashenko spoke to one of his officers in a foreign language, Michael took a moment to consider what he was going to say next. He’d been spending the past few days shadowing the commander, getting an understanding on what was going on. Yesterday for a time, he was even able to spend some time with Linny and Bret when the kid’s dorms allowed them all to come out and play. He’d asked them how they were being treated and what they had been up to. Of all the answers that they could have given, he was surprised by what they told him.
There was plenty of food and clothing, and although they had to do their ‘schoolwork’, they were generally happy. The kids were dormed in three areas of the old office building. The main conference rooms were full of bunks for kids twelve and under and the office spaces were emptied out and crammed with beds for boys and girls over that age up to seventeen years. Then the kids went to the adult side, like Michael had. He’d asked them about guards and the kids had told Michael that the teachers and hall monitors were all they had. They didn’t carry guns in there except for the guys by the door. That info was tucked away for later.
They spent the rest of the time joking about how bad the food was, but it was Bret who said he’d rather go back to eating stinky fish and not the soggy vegetables that they made the kids eat. The only thing about the visit that had gotten ugly was when a man who was visiting with his kids had gotten hysterical about seeing his wife. An unsympathetic guard had whispered something to him and he’d gone off and had started to swing his fists before being brought down by three guards and the use of a taser. That had piqued Michael’s interest, because he hadn’t heard about the women being able to visit and mingle with their families much. As a matter of fact, most of the grumbling he’d heard had made him feel sick.
The rumor was that the guards were keeping the women away from the men for their own ‘use’. It had caused a lot of resentment and more than a few ill plans of revenge from the men, but it was all mutterings. Many of the people in his barracks were broken of spirit and had given up. Michael thought it was quite sad to see so many broken souls gathered in one place. It hadn’t been that long ago that everything worked and now many of them worked listlessly while their hearts and minds were in other places.
“Yes, yes. Da.” Lukashenko said, putting his radio down and turned to find Michael deep in thought.
“Michael, so do you see the problems we are having here? It isn’t like it’s a forced labor camp. Parts to rebuild the power structure must be manufactured. There are only a few places in the world to build the equipment and motors needed to build a new power plant, or the parts to fix the transformers. Then there’s the problem of all of the airplanes that fell, causing untold death and destruction. Much worse than your country’s 9/11.”
“Huh?” Michael asked, his attention snapping back to the commander, “Oh, yes, yes sir. I can’t imagine what it’s like with the rest of the country. I remember hearing or reading somewhere that there were over five thousand planes flying at any given moment over the country.”
“Exactly. So this camp is producing electrical motors, and another facility is hand placing and soldering parts to rebuild circuit boards and another facility is replacing parts in a SMT line at an electronics factory using parts we were able to bring with us from our home countries.”
“Sir, what’s an SMT line and if it isn’t uh… secret, but where is everyone from? Your men from NATO that is. Are they from all over sir?” Michael asked, hoping his questions weren’t too probing.
“Ahhh, SMT means surface mount technology. They have these amazing machines that can make circuit boards in a matter of minutes, whereas hand placing parts would take days and days. It’s for rebuilding the components. If your countrymen can keep this rate up, we should be able to start restoring power to areas in as little as two years. As to your second question, yes, we are from all over. My unit is mostly from Eastern European countries.”
“Russia?”
“Some countries were once part of Russia, yes.”
“Thank you sir. I do have one more question, and it’s somewhat related to the man who had to be… disciplined. The men are more than a little curious…”
“Ahhh, would you be asking about the women?”
“Yes sir, there are rumors—“ Michael started to say.
“Rumors? What are these?”
“That the women are kept separate for… Sex. That your men keep the women for themselves,” Michael’s face burned, but not in embarrassment or shame like the commander thought, but in anger.
“Ahhh that is what they think? Sex is part of it but not what you think at all.”
Michael’s eyes locked with the commanders, and he gave Lukashenko a questioning look.
“We do not have a large medical staff with supplies. If the women became pregnant, it would only take a handful of them doing so to tax us beyond our capacity. As it is, we are having a hard time getting supplies for the ladies who came to us already pregnant. Is this truly a sticking point with the men?”
“Yes sir, it really is. A lot of folks feel like they have been imprisoned and forced to work while being separated by their families. There isn’t a lot of love for you and your men here. A lot of folks think they’d rather try the outside on their own but that isn’t allowed—“
“You are correct Michael, it isn’t allowed. Maybe it’s the difference in our cultures that make this so hard for each side to understand. On one side, we are here to protect you and are in America to help you rebuild your country. Many of us are away from our homes and some countries soldiers are conscripted or… drafted? So we cannot understand why it is that your people don’t understand the sacrifice we are making to help you,” Lukashenko paused and took a sip of water before going on.
“Then there is your side. You won your independence by throwing off the shackles of the British Empire and became one of the biggest super powers the world has ever known. You want your freedom, you want your guns,” Lukashenko almost spat, contempt in his voice, “and you don’t want any help even though you obviously need it.”
“My history lessons in school t
old us that America won our independence by fighting England over tyranny and taxes. We were being oppressed and pushed and didn’t have any individual freedoms,” Michael said.
“So, what is the point of that? That is essentially what I said,” Lukashenko looked at him in disgust.
“The point is, maybe people feel like you and your men locking us up feels like the British oppression,” Michael said and the look dropped off of the commander’s face and was replaced by one of shock and anger.
“They say this? They think we are the oppressors? Are you saying they are going to revolt and have their own ‘civil war’?” The commander said, using his fingers for air quotes, spittle flying from his mouth.
“No, no sir. I’m sorry for alarming you. I was just trying to help you understand our side, our culture. I thought that’s what you wanted from me, and exchange of ideas and—“
“Yes. Yes, I suppose I can understand that point of view now,” Lukashenko stood and turned away, his back to Michael and looked out the window.
Michael waited for him to continue and cringed inwardly. Talking about breaking out was a common topic, but it was more done in a wistful, wishing manner rather than anything serious.
“I suppose there are many things to consider here, I’ll have Yosef take you back to the barracks after the staff meeting. I must ask you to wait for me until then and I have an idea I need to run by the long term planning committee. I cannot make this idea happen on my own.”
“Idea sir? I don’t understand.” Michael asked confused by the sudden shift in tone.
“Oh, sorry. I did not mean to confuse you. I’m taking your views on the women and the rumors to heart. I need to talk to my men some and then perhaps I can form a plan to keep everyone happy. I am a family man myself. I honestly do not know what I would do if I were in your shoes. Though I am the Commander of this facility, I am merely a soldier and I have a boss I must report to as well.”
“Yes sir. I understand that completely.” No, no I don’t, you don’t realize that you are more than just a soldier, you are our jailer, Michael wanted to say but remained silent.
The World Bleeds: A Post-Apocalyptic Story (The World Burns Book 5) Page 6
