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Also by James Wesley, Rawles
Patriots: A Novel of Survival in the Coming Collapse
How to Survive the End of the World as We Know It
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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New York, NY 10020
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by James Rawles
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First Atria Books hardcover edition October 2011
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2011012317
ISBN 978-1-4391-7280-3
ISBN 978-1-4391-7284-1 (ebook)
Contents
Disclaimers
Dramatis Personae
Author’s Introductory Note
Urgency and Exigency
Stocking Up
The Crunch
Fujian Tulou
Hornet’s Nest
Getting By
Paperwork
Ankunft
Twisted
Initiative
Provisional Beginnings
Little Ricky
Kasserne
Clerks and Jerks
Der Pilger
Grid Down
Buckaroos
Rock ’n’ Roll
Gainful
Tentacles
Up the Creek
A Semblance of Normalcy
Roll Out
Down in Hondo
A Tight Spot
A Fair Share
Hunkered Down
Terminal Ballistics
La Casa de la Mañana Grande
The Samaritan’s Purse
A Bulwark Never Failing
Social Work
Avtomat Kalashnikov
Reconnaissance
Cut to Size, File to Fit, and Paint to Match
Emboscada
Assets
Threat Spirals
Whirlwind
Movement to Contact
The Team
A Prodigy
Escape and Evasion
Ignis
Bug-out
Acknowledgments
Glossary
Disclaimers
All rights reserved. Any unauthorized duplication in whole or in part or dissemination of this edition by any means (including but not limited to photocopying, electronic bulletin boards, and the Internet) will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
This is a work of fiction. All of the events described are imaginary. Most of the characters in this novel are fictional. A few real life individuals gave permission for their names to be mentioned. Aside from these individuals, any resemblance to living people is purely coincidental.
The making and/or possession of some of the devices and mixtures described in this novel are possibly illegal in some jurisdictions. Even the mere possession of the uncombined components might be construed as criminal intent. Consult your state and local laws! If you make any of these devices and/or formulations, you accept sole responsibility for their possession and use. You are also responsible for your own stupidity and/or carelessness. This information is intended for educational purposes only, to add realism to a work of fiction.
This novel does not constitute legal advice. Consult a jural society or lawyer if you have legal questions. The medical details contained within this novel do not constitute medical advice. Consult a doctor or herbalist if you have medical questions. The purpose of this novel is to entertain and to educate. The author and Atria Books/Simon & Schuster shall have neither liability nor responsibility to any citizen, person, or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused, or alleged to be caused, directly or indirectly by the information contained in this novel.
Dramatis Personae
Diego Aguilar—cook, Wrangler and Hay boss
Nabil Jassim Ali—Afghan storekeeper
Jamie Alstoba—resident of Dewey, Arizona; ten years old at the onset of the Crunch
Arturo Araneta—father of Blanca Araneta-Doyle
Kurt Becker—bicycle store owner, Landstuhl, Germany
Major Alan Brennan—Ian Doyle’s squadron leader
Chambers Clarke—Monsanto fertilizer and pesticide salesman
Hollan Combs—retired soil scientist and property manager, Bradfordsville, Kentucky
Clifford Conley—Prescott, Arizona, land developer
Consuelo Dalgon—schoolteacher and Spanish teacher
Pablo Dalgon—husband of Consuelo Dalgon
Alex Doyle—gun salesman, Prescott Arizona; brother of Ian Doyle, Prescott, Arizona
Blanca Araneta-Doyle—the Honduran-born wife of Ian Doyle
Major Ian Doyle—a U.S. Air Force F-16 pilot stationed at Luke AFB, Arizona; brother of Alex Doyle
Linda Doyle—daughter of Ian and Blanca Doyle
Larry Echanis—Stryker battalion S-1, FOB Wolverine, Afghanistan
Ben Fielding—an attorney in Muddy Pond, Tennessee
Rebecca Fielding—wife of Ben Fielding
Dan Fong—a college classmate of Ian Doyle
Ignacio Garcia—leader of a criminal gang called La Fuerza
Charley Gordon—member of the Phoenix Ultralight Flying Club
Todd Gray—a college classmate of Ian Doyle, owner of a ranch/retreat near Bovill, Idaho
Pedro Hierro—horse breeder near Orange Walk, Belize
Dustin Hodges—deputy sheriff in Marion County, Kentucky
Maynard Hutchings—member of the Hardin, Kentucky, board of supervisors
Peter Ivens—innkeeper in Blair Atholl, Belize
Dr. Robert Karvalich (“Doctor K.”)—widower and retired pediatrician
Tom “T.K.” Kennedy—Todd Gray’s dormitory roommate
Captain Andrew “Andy” Laine—Ordnance Corps officer; ham radio call sign K5CLA
Grace Laine—daughter of Lars and Lisbeth Laine; six years old at the onset of the Crunch; nicknamed “Anelli”
Major Lars Laine—recently disabled U.S. Army veteran; ham radio call sign K5CLB
Lisbeth “Beth” Laine—wife of Lars Laine
Joseph Lejeune—captain of the fishing boat Beau Temps, harbored at Bou
logne-sur-Mer, France
Ricardo Lopez—Cuban-born petrochemical process engineer at the Bloomfield refinery
Michael Lyon—police officer, Kent County Constabulary, England
L. Roy Martin—owner of Bloomfield refinery; Nicknamed “El Rey” by his Spanish-speaking employees
Phil McReady—Bloomfield refinery plant manager
Darci Mora—retired vocational nurse in Dangriga, Belize
Gabriel Mora—retired tropical wood logger and husband of Darci Mora
Ted Nielsen—a Prescott, Arizona, banker; formerly an electrical engineer
Colonel Ed Olds—Stryker battalion commander
Arsène Paquet—harbormaster of Calais, France
Matthew Phelps—orphan; sixteen years old at the onset of the Crunch
Reuben Phelps—orphan; sixteen years old at the onset of the Crunch
Shadrach “Shad” Phelps—orphan; seventeen years old at the onset of the Crunch
1st Lt. Bryson Pitcher—Air Force intelligence liaison officer, U.S. Embassy, Tegucigalpa, Honduras
Jerome Randall—tire store assistant manager
Sheila Randall—part-time accountant and wife of Jerome Randall
Tyree Randall—son of Jerome and Sheila Randall; ten years old at the onset of the Crunch
Kaylee Schmidt—Andy Laine’s fiancée; ham radio nickname “KL”
Carston Simms—retired school administrator and owner of the yacht Durobrabis, harbored at Oare Creek, Kent, England
Donna Simms—wife of Carston Simms
Alan Taft—investment banker
Jules Taft—son of Alan and Simone Taft; fourteen years old at the onset of the Crunch
Simone Taft—housewife and part-time interior decorator
Yvette Taft—daughter of Alan and Simone Taft; eleven years old at the onset of the Crunch
Yvonne Taft—daughter of Alan and Simone Taft; eleven years old at the onset of the Crunch
Brian Tompkins—U.S. Army Armor Corps officer
Major General Clayton Uhlich—post commander and chief of armor at Fort Knox, Kentucky
Emily Voisin—grandmother (“Grandmère” or “Memère”) of Sheila Randall and great-grandmother of Tyree Randall; seventy-six years old at the onset of the Crunch
Author’s Introductory Note
Unlike most novel sequels, the storyline of Survivors is contemporaneous with the events described in my previously published novel, Patriots. Thus there is no need to read it first (or subsequently), but you’ll likely find it entertaining.
Deo volente, another contemporaneous novel in this series will be published next year. Check my blog, www.SurvivalBlog.com, for updates.
1
Urgency and Exigency
“Weapons compound man’s power to achieve; they amplify the capabilities of both the good man and the bad, and to exactly the same degree, having no will of their own. Thus we must regard them as servants, not masters—and good servants to good men. Without them, man is diminished, and his opportunities to fulfill his destiny are lessened. An unarmed man can only flee from evil, and evil is not overcome by fleeing from it.”
—Col. Jeff Cooper
FOB Wolverine, Task Force Duke, Zabul Province, Afghanistan
October, the First Year
Andy was awoken by the sound of mortars. His many months in Afghanistan had taught him the difference in sound between outgoing and incoming mortars and various artillery. These were distant mortars, so he knew that it wasn’t friendly fire. Andy already had Operation Enduring Freedom camouflage pattern (OCP) pants and interceptor body armor (IBA) on, and was snatching up his M4 carbine and helmet when the take-shelter warning siren sounded. He popped out the door of his containerized housing unit (CHU) and jumped down into the entrance of the heavily sandbagged shelter, just a few steps away. Moments later the two lieutenants from the CHU next door piled in behind him. One of them took the precaution of scanning with a flashlight the floor and walls of the shelter for scorpions. He found just one and stomped it without comment.
The mortar rounds started to come in, with a succession of sharp blasts that shook the ground. There were about twenty impacts, arriving in a span of ten seconds. They could see the flashes of the explosions reflected on the wall opposite the doorway. The closest round impacted about one hundred feet away—close enough that shock waves could be felt.
As the rounds came in, Andy Laine said a silent prayer. He knew that only a direct hit would endanger him, but it was still unnerving, since he had less than a month left in-country.
“That may be all she wrote, sir,” said one of the lieutenants dryly.
Laine agreed. “You’re probably right. Just another shoot-’n’-scoot deal.”
At the far side of the forward operating base (FOB), they could hear the echoed commands from the Arty boys, and then the deep-throated crumps of outgoing mortars. They sounded like big 4.2-inch mortars, just three rounds. Andy marveled at how quickly the counter-battery radar team could pinpoint the insurgents’ firing location and direct return fire. Less than a minute after the enemy rounds impacted, the reply was sent, no doubt with considerable precision. It was no wonder that the mortar duels with the jihadis had become less frequent in recent months.
As they waited for the all-clear horn, Andy leaned against the sandbag wall and stretched his calf muscles, more out of habit than because of any stiffness. At six feet two inches, with a runner’s physique, he weighed just 180 pounds, and prided himself on his flexibility. When doing physical training (PT) with his units in garrison, he was always among the most limber.
The next morning, along with dozens of his fellow Fobbits, Laine did a bit of gawking at the damage done by the mortars. It actually wasn’t much. One round had shredded the corner of a CHU and another perforated a tent with dozens of small holes—the largest about three inches across. All the rest of the mortar impacts had no effect, leaving only black marks on the ground and some scattered shrapnel. A couple of the newbies to the FOB posed for pictures in front of the damaged CHU. “So what? Big deal,” Andy muttered to himself as he walked to the company headquarters.
At thirty-one years old, Andrew Laine was the typical lean and fit U.S. Army captain. He was on his second deployment to Afghanistan. His first had been to Iraq. On this new deployment, his assignment was “branch immaterial.” Although he was branched Ordnance Corps, he was assigned as a staff officer in a Stryker battalion, an infantry unit equipped with sixteen-ton wheeled armored personnel carriers (APCs). With the heavy manpower requirements of ongoing deployments to Afghanistan, it was not unusual for officers to get assignments outside of their usual career path. “The needs of the Army” was the reason often cited when making these assignments.
Andy and his older brother Lars had grown up in the shadow of their late father, Robie Laine, a Finnish-born Army officer who retired as a full colonel. Their father earned his U.S. citizenship by joining the U.S. Army, and eventually retired to a small horse ranch near Bloomfield, New Mexico. Robie had been raised on a farm and was convinced that he should retire on a farm. Their late mother was an American of mostly Swedish ancestry. She had died of breast cancer when the boys were in high school.
Following the mortar barrage, Andy spent a frustrating ten-hour day of pushing paper for the battalion, which was greatly complicated by the process of the unit’s upcoming redeployment to Germany. That afternoon, Andy chatted with Larry Echanis, the battalion S-1, the staff officer in charge of personnel. Echanis had been Laine’s martial arts sparring partner for the past several months. He had taught Andy some Hwa Rang Do katas, and Andy reciprocated, teaching Larry his mixed martial arts moves.
Their battalion (or “squadron,” in Stryker parlance) was a forward deployed part of the 2nd Stryker Cavalry Regiment, headquartered in Vilseck, Germany. The incoming squ
adron was a sister unit in the same regiment, and also part of Task Force Duke. But Andy’s squadron was headed back to Germany, in a regularly scheduled unit rotation.
Laine and Echanis had been discussing events back home. Lately, the war effort had been taking a backseat to tumultuous economic events emanating from New York City and the world’s other financial centers. Larry Echanis seemed worried but was trying to be upbeat. He asked, “You think that this’ll blow over, right?”
Laine put on a glum face. “At this point, there’s no way. The whole system is breaking down. The global credit market is frozen, the sovereign debt problems have blown up past the GDP levels for most countries, and the derivatives have totally imploded. We’re in a world of hurt. I think there’ll be some major riots and looting soon.”
Echanis bit his lip. “Well, that won’t be a big deal for my family. Most of them live in eastern Oregon. Have you ever been through Ontario, Oregon? It’s out in the middle of nowhere. The disruption will be in the big cities. Our town is three hundred miles from Portland, and more than three hundred and fifty from Seattle as the crow flies.”
Laine shook his head. “I wish it was that simple. Sure, the riots will be in the big cities. The metro areas will be death traps. The suburbs will be only marginally safer. But you got to realize that these days even the small towns are dependent on long chains of supply. When the eighteen-wheelers stop rolling, everyone is gonna be hurting. It will definitely be safer out in the boonies. But you should tell your family to stock up on every scrap of food they can find. They need to get out of dollars and into canned goods right away.”
“You really think it’ll get that bad?”
Laine answered soberly, “I’m afraid it will. Does your family live in town or out on a ranch?”
“Used to be ranchers. All in town now, but we’re Basques, so we still know how to live the old-fashioned way. My mom used to cook a lot of our meals in a dutch oven. I didn’t even know how fast food tasted until I went off to college. There’s no comparison to my mom’s cooking.”
“Well, with those skills, and living where they do, they’ll probably ride the storm out pretty safely.”
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