by Joe Nobody
He found Jimmy right where he thought his nephew would be, hanging around that Candy girl with those lovesick, puppy dog eyes. “Ahhh, hormones,” he whispered under his breath, “It had to happen eventually.”
“Hi, Shane,” Jimmy said.
“Hey. You and the twins all ready for our little raiding party tonight?”
“Yeah. I was just making sure Candy and her sister were comfortable.”
Shane nodded knowingly, not wanting to embarrass or trouble the kid right before they were heading out to do something dangerous. “Well, if you’re ready, we need to get going.”
With his team gathered at the catacomb’s opening, Shane began issuing their instructions. “I think the intruders will come into town tonight. They probably have night vision, maybe even other military gear. I hope they look around, don’t find anything, and leave. There’s no reason for them to stay. While they’re busy checking out Riley, we’re going to go locate their camp. Jimmy and the other guys saw lots of food and equipment… more than they can carry. If these guys don’t leave tomorrow, then we’ll go back and steal their stuff. Maybe they’ll get the idea and head out.”
“Where do you think they are camped?” one of the boys asked.
“They’ll be up on Indian Ridge, probably a little east of where Jimmy found them. We’ll go around the school and behind the old church… stay on the eastern outskirts of town,” Shane said.
The leader smoothed out a clear patch of dirt with his palm and then began drawing a diagram of Riley in the dirt. A few minutes later, every head was nodding in agreement. They all knew the route.
“If anybody gets lost, come back here to the catacombs. But don’t get lost.”
Bishop spread the map across the tailgate, his team gathering so all could see. “I want to avoid the downtown area,” he began. “We’ll stay to the east and circle around to the silos. There’s a church right here… and the school is right here,” he said, pointing to the map.
Grim shook his head, concern etching deep lines on the contractor’s face. “I don’t like leaving the truck here unguarded. It’s our only way home.”
“I know,” Bishop responded. “But nobody operates alone. If I split us up, that means only two of us going into the town, and I’m uncomfortable with that. Remember, this is just a quick fact-finding excursion. We need to see what’s in those silos. If they’re empty, then the mission is over, and we head back home. If they’re full of good stuff, then we can decide how to approach the people.”
“Damned if you do; damned if you don’t. This reminds me of the Army,” Grim commented. “But I do have to agree… it would be better not to divide our forces on this first trip.”
Bishop extended his upturned palm, a small electronic device in his hand. “This is the master relay from under the hood. They won’t steal the truck without this. We might drive home hungry, but we’ll not be walking.”
That settled, Bishop continued, “I want a box formation, each man at a corner. Kevin, you and Cory will be at the back. Spacing is everything, and never, ever lose sight of your opposite corner. One of us being taken hostage is the worst consideration. Got it?”
The two lesser-experienced men nodded their understanding. Bishop then had each of them draw his route on the map with a finger, just to be sure they both fully understood.
Forty minutes later, the sun’s last illumination faded, and the Alliance team moved out.
Their first objective was the church, the high steeple an easy landmark for navigation. He was satisfied with Cory and Kevin’s spacing and noise discipline during the move, proving the two weeks of training back in Alpha a worthy investment of time and resources.
Shane and Jimmy rounded the corner of the school, the remainder of the guys spread out behind them. “I wish we had more moon,” Jimmy whispered, “I can’t see much.”
“Shhhhh,” Shane scolded. “Just scan, don’t focus. Like we were stalking deer. You’ll see movement before you can make out any shapes. Now hush.”
The rest of the boys caught up, Shane examining the wide-eyed bunch with a critical eye. They were too noisy, and he was beginning to regret bringing them along.
He quickly reconsidered those harsh thoughts. In a way, he was proud of each and every one of them. Yes, they were on edge, and making stupid little noises while bunching up. But it wasn’t fear. I suppose even the most experienced men would be wound up tight, he thought. For a bunch of kids, they’re doing really, really well.
Shane had to admit, even he was nervous. Hunting at night was one thing, but this was proving to be a completely different challenge. Deer and hogs didn’t shoot back. The low light made even the simplest task daunting. And worse yet, it was easy to see a threat in every pool of shadow.
They knew that armed, hostile men were in the area, and that knowledge fueled already vivid imaginations. Just in the half-mile between the silos and the school, Shane had twice thought he’d identified the outline of a man. One had ended up being a bush, the other, one of his own guys who had gotten out of line. Shane had almost shot the kid, realizing at the last second the target was a friend.
No, it was easy to be freaked and make a mistake. And he was the most experienced of the bunch.
Having second thoughts about trying to find the strangers’ camp, he almost called off the excursion. But they needed to know what was happening above ground. It would help him plan and react. Maybe they just needed to go about it in a different way.
After scanning the open area between their position and the church, Shane decided to risk a little noise of his own. Pulling them all close in a huddle, he cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered, “Stay here while Jimmy and I go scout the church. One of us will come back and get you if it’s clear.”
After making sure everyone had heard the instructions, Jimmy and he pushed off, heading for the outline of the chapel’s steeple.
Bishop and Grim stood at the edge of what had been the parking lot in front of the sanctuary, both of them scanning the area to their front with night vision and thermal optics, both hesitant to step from the soft, quiet soil onto the crunchy, noisy gravel surface.
Not detecting any threat from the building or surrounding ground, Bishop keyed his radio once, the single click telling his team it looked clear to move forward. Pausing for a moment to see if anyone objected by sounding two clicks, he then stepped out of the weed line and onto the rock surface.
Their pace slowed considerably, each man doing his best to move quietly. But the small stones under their feet made such stealth almost impossible. Halfway across, Bishop was furious with himself. They sounded like a herd of thundering cattle crossing the gravel covering. Not only did everyone for five miles know their location, they were completely exposed with zero cover for over 50 feet. Why the hell didn’t you go around this shit? his mind cursed. You’re going to get everyone killed.
Shane heard a crunch and put his hand into Jimmy’s chest, both of them freezing in place, ears and eyes searching the darkness. His heart was beating a million miles a minute, pounding in his head and making listening even more difficult.
There it was again. The grinding of a footfall on pea gravel.
Motioning for Jimmy to stay put, Shane moved to the corner of the church, cautiously peeking around. He was only 30 feet away from Bishop, the sight of a man so close causing a cold, wet sensation to flow down his legs. For a second, he thought he’d pissed his pants.
A vague outline, distorted by the darkness, Bishop looked like a robotic killing machine. Shane could see the rifle, bulging pouches, kit, and body armor making the approaching shape appear larger and more menacing than any man.
Shane’s perception of the situation deteriorated as the other men in the parking lot came into focus. His mind in a panic, he believed there were at least a dozen intruders coming to kill him. Somehow, the instincts of self-preservation kicked in, and he managed to step back. Then another half step. And then he rushed to Jimmy’s side.<
br />
Motioning for the kid to join him, Shane started running back toward the safety of the school and his group. Jimmy, seeing the sheer terror on his mentor’s face, didn’t waste any time following.
Breathless, Shane skidded to a halt next to the gathered huddle of boys. After a few deep breaths, he managed to whisper, “They’re in the church’s parking lot, headed this way. There’s a bunch of them, like an infantry platoon or some shit.”
Seeing the normally brave Shane in such a state, the boys all started glancing in the direction of the church. More than one of them clicked the safety off his rifle.
“What do you want to do, Shane?” one of the older boys asked.
The first thoughts that flashed through the leader’s mind were to fight. He envisioned spreading out his guns across the school’s lot and waiting on the strangers to enter their sights. As he glimpsed the eager, frightened faces waiting for his words, Shane couldn’t help but wonder how many of them would be killed.
Images of those he’d already buried came flooding back, pain and trauma accompanying the gory memories of friends who’d died defending their homes. There had been so many dead. The smell of their blood and guts rose in the back of his throat with an acidic burn. Too many, he realized. Too many dead.
He turned to stare back toward the church, fully expecting to see the outsiders charging around the corner with guns blazing a deadly hail of lead. After seeing only empty ground in the moonlight, he couldn’t help but wonder if that small piece of earth was worth dying for. Nothing but knee-high weeds and overgrowth met his gaze, the dilapidated church in the distance. He then glanced at the distant outline of downtown, the darkened windows and empty streets of the ghost town instilling a sense of loneliness and abandonment. Was there anything left in Riley worth the ultimate sacrifice?
There are only 30 of us left, he considered. We’re outgunned, low on ammo, and sure to lose good men. I’m sick of digging graves and listening to people cry.
“Fall back,” he whispered. “Go back to the catacombs. There’s too many of them.”
Bishop sighed in relief, looking up at the enormous silo outlined against the star-filled sky. Despite studying the complex since they’d arrived, he was still impressed by the size.
“Cory,” he whispered, motioning his man closer. “Can you take the samples and do the tests at night?”
“Some of it, yes. The council wants to know approximately how much grain is housed here, so I’ll have to climb every silo and look through the inspection hatches. I don’t like heights, so I’d rather do that part during the daytime, sir.”
Bishop understood completely, secretly glad it was the other man’s assignment. “Can you tell if there’s even any grain at all?”
Nodding, Cory motioned Bishop to follow. The two men ventured to the base of the enormous tower and began circling.
Halfway around, Cory pulled up and pointed to a steel door with an intricate looking mechanism attached to the surface. Bishop thought it looked like something that belonged on a submarine. Sliding his rifle to his back, Cory grabbed a lever with both hands, struggling to pull the rusty device down. After a grind and squeak, the machinery finally cooperated. Next, he spun a small wheel-like control. Finally, he tugged open a slight, but thick metal door and stood back.
A stream of bright, yellow kernels came shooting out of the opening, the steady flow lasting three or four seconds. Cory stuck out his hand, catching a fistful out in mid-air.
Smiling at Bishop, he raised the corn to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Smells fresh and clean,” he whispered, offering his leader a sniff. “I don’t detect any mold or fermentation.”
Bishop obliged, inhaling the aroma and nodding his head in agreement. The scent was earthy and pleasant.
Bishop considered the possibilities - the seed, food, and opportunities this could mean for the Alliance and her people. But how many of the silos held the golden treasure? Were all the grain elevators full?
Glancing down the long line of similar towers, Bishop shook his head. This was going to take a while, especially if Cory had to climb each one.
Then he turned his gaze toward downtown Riley, realizing their discovery was but a hollow victory. The team had verified the existence of the grain and its viability. Now Bishop needed to know how difficult the local population was going to make his life.
“Take Kevin and randomly check five more silos,” he whispered to Cory. Grim and I will make sure you’re not disturbed. Hurry.”
After watching the two men hustle off, Bishop turned to Grim and announced, “I’m going to climb up that ladder and see what’s going on in Riley. Should be some candles or fires or something.”
Grim nodded, positioning himself so he could keep an eye on the silo testers and Bishop at the same time.
Flipping his rifle around to his back, the Texan began his ascent up the rungs, quickly reaching a height of about 30 feet. From that vantage, he could clearly identify the outlines of roofs, structures, and light poles in the residential section of town. But the village lay in complete shadow.
Looping an arm around the vertical support so he wouldn’t fall, Bishop managed to lift his rifle and again proceeded to sweep Riley with the night vision. Nothing. Not a single flame or flicker. No movement whatsoever.
When he had planted both feet firmly back on the ground, he stepped toward Grim and proclaimed, “Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”
“Really? No lights or anything?”
“You are welcome to try your hand with the thermal unit, but I detected neither hide nor hair nor any light source with the NVD.”
“Where did they go?” Grim asked, not really expecting Bishop to know. “It’s only been dark two hours. Do you think everybody hit the hay early?”
Bishop considered his response for a second. “Could be. I think it’s a little weird for there not to be a single light, but it could be. We’ll find out in the morning.”
Two hours later, Cory returned with an ear-to-ear grin spread across his face. “Every silo I tested contained good product inside. I can’t tell if the structures are nearly empty, full to the top or somewhere in between, but I do know that what is inside can offer enough food to make a substantial dent in our famine issue. No sign of any rot, mold, or fermentation.”
“That’s great news!” Bishop responded with an excited whisper. “Maybe this wasn’t a wasted trip after all.”
Grim chimed in, “Let’s move the truck up here. There are a couple of little nooks we can fit it into that are very defendable. It doesn’t look like the locals come this way often.”
Scratching his chin, Bishop nodded. “Well, that would send a message, but I’m not sure if it’s the right one. On the other hand, we need to complete a full inventory of this facility, and that’s obviously going to take a few days. We could improve security if we weren’t shuffling back and forth.”
Grim motioned toward an area between two buildings, probably once dedicated to the employee of the month’s reserved parking space. “If we back the truck in there, we could spend more time performing inventory and less time guarding our supplies.”
Bishop scouted the spot and liked the setup. One man on top of the nearby building could cover an extensive area and provide security.
“We’ll head back, break down camp, and drive in tonight. I want to be in a position to observe the residential section of town at first light. We have to establish contact with the residents. I don’t want them thinking we’re just going to abscond with all their grain and not provide anything in return.”
Grim grunted, “Is it really their grain? That sign over there says it belongs to Mid-South Mills, Incorporated.”
It was a question that constantly tested the Alliance leadership. Who owned what? Who had the rights to property, equipment, stores, and supplies? Without banks, corporate governance, or rule of law, it was an extremely difficult question.
At first, the old adage of “Possession is 9/1
0s of the law,” was the rule of thumb. This especially held true with foodstuffs, medical supplies, and fuel.
But now that a recovery was in process, what about abandoned industrial plants and equipment? What about the motorhomes Terri and the council members used to tour the territory? Those had been discovered on a sales lot, the facility’s owner, lien holder, or titles nowhere to be found.
Even in Alpha, where empty homes had been allocated to immigrants, there had been problems. Bishop knew of three or four cases where the original owner had suddenly reappeared, shocked to find occupants residing in the family homestead.
Diana had been forced to create a special review panel to settle such situations, as well as disputes that arose over pre-collapse versus post-collapse ownership. Homes were an easily resolved matter, most cases involving relocation of the new family and letting the original homeowner retake possession.
But what about equipment? Bishop recalled one dispute over a tractor. Pre-collapse, one of the valley ranchers had taken his implement into Alpha to be repaired. Post-collapse, with food production being a priority, Diana had allowed the distribution of farm equipment as needed. The repaired unit, sitting on the lot, had been taken by a neighboring rancher. A dispute soon arose.
Bishop turned to Grim and offered an option. “Maybe we should print off some business cards and put on a suit and tie. We could go to the townsfolk and claim to be executives from Mid-South Mills Incorporated, here to take possession of our property.”
Grim nodded, “And how would they prove or know any different? It’s no bigger lie than your telling that kid you are a Texas Ranger.”
Bishop smiled, nodding at Grim’s carbine, load-gear, armor, and thermal imager. “You do fit the executive prototype, my friend. I’m sure all the bean counters at Mid-South aspire to dress like that.”
Scrutinizing Bishop’s garb in turn, Grim smirked. “I’m sure a lot of Texas Rangers dress like that.”
