The Day America Died! Old Enemies: Post Apocalyptic Fiction

by A J Newman

  “Why did he approach my city manager? That’s the man who took over the city of Anderson and killed the previous Mayor and city leaders?”

  “No, I think those rumors are an exaggeration. I understand he overthrew them in a bloodless coup with the support of the majority of Anderson citizens. He reached out because my brother-in-law is on his staff. We stay in touch.”

  “Set up a meeting at the gas station on the county line. Make sure the Sheriff has plenty of men there in case his intentions are less than honorable.”

  “He warned me to tell you not to let the Sheriff know about the meeting. I will provide security with my people if it’s okay with you. After all, I do own the leading security firm in Kentucky.”

  “I like that. I have always thought the Sheriff was a right wing nut job and knew I had to get him out of office, but he is very popular with the conservatives in the county.”

  “Let’s meet with the Anderson officials and see where this goes.”

  “And I guess if Bert goes away, you’ll have someone to fill his job? I’ll bet you also have as many spies on my staff as you do on his.”

  “And replace all but a few of his deputies. I have several of my men on his force now. Oh, I keep my ears to the ground and gather all types of information.”

  “What are your spies telling you about the meeting the farmers just had at the Johnson place?”

  “The Sheriff and four of his deputies were wined and dined along with their families. I have a friend among that group and hope to have details before too long.”

  “Alan, we have mutual goals and share the same values. Let’s meet again in a week and make long term plans for Owensville.”

  “Alice, I agree with what you said, but one thing I must add to the conversation.”

  “Go on.”

  “We have more people than can possibly be fed by the local farms even if we had their cooperation.”

  “I feel the same way. I assume we will discuss that in private. If we agree, can you handle the dirty work?”

  “Yes and I have a plan. My overseas branch has handled several situations that are similar in scope.”

  “Were you able to protect your client from any backlash or political fallout?”

  “Not only did we protect them, we made the world blame his enemies for the unfortunate disaster.”

  “Let’s review your plans next week at my house. How about Tuesday about 6:00pm?”

  “Good, I’d like to meet your husband.”

  “He won’t be there and he needs to be included in your disaster plan.”

  Alan smiled and said, “I’m so sorry, but life goes on.”

  She pulled him closer and said, “Yes it does. Alan we have a chance to remake our little part of the world and I’m not letting anyone stand in the way.”

  Alan got into the backseat of the old Suburban and had his driver take him back to his home on the outskirts of south Owensville. They approached the driveway, the steel gate opened and the truck drove into the large garage. The door rolled down and the lights came on. Alan had a T-bone, salad and wine for supper and then watched an old movie using his blue-ray player. His wife sat in the living room with a bottle of wine for company. She still didn’t understand why she couldn’t fly to New York for her weekly shopping trip with her friends.

  Alan Prescott knew the shit would hit the fan and moved his world headquarters from New York City to Owensville just after 9/11. He slowly built his home to be a self-sustained fortress supplied with enough food, water and weapons for a dozen people to survive for three years. His Olympic swimming pool was actually a way to store more water. There was a much larger sealed tank underneath the pool. All of the electronics, generators and vehicles were EMP proofed. The entire complex was one big Faraday cage and all but his 2020 Corvette had all of the electronics replaced or hardened against an EMP blast. The Corvette was stored in a metal lined vault in the basement of his garage. He only drove the old suburban to fool the town’s people into thinking he was in the same boat as they were.

  His contacts in the Middle East had given him a few days warning, which allowed him to pull back to Owensville his most trusted team members and their families. Most were single by design, so there were only 26 mouths to feed and he was milking the city for most of their food.

  He had spent years cultivating relationships in both political parties and gave large sums of money under the table to keep in good standing with the powers in the city. Everyone knew him and he was envied by some and respected by all. He had the big house, successful business, trophy wife and two kids away at college at South Bend, Indiana. That was his one worry. He had sent a small team of his best men to find and bring his daughter and son back to him. It had been over a month and he hadn’t heard a word from them.

  His kids had their own problems and his men never found them.

  ***

  I woke up early along with Mike, Ally and Sally to escort the Golds to the Kentucky border. I asked Ally to join us since she had just finished her training and everyone else was exhausted from guard duty or partying. Ally didn’t drink much, so she was rested more than the rest of us. The Golds had loaded up the Humvees and a trailer a couple of days before and we just had to hit the road after a cold breakfast. It was 2:00am when we pulled out of the farm and worked our way over to the Natcher Highway to head south to Highway 65 and on to Rolling Hills. We would escort them on to Franklin, Kentucky, and spend the day in hiding until nightfall and then head back to the farm. As with Aaron’s team, night-vision equipment gave us the ability to drive down the road at 30-40 mph and move while the criminals were sleeping. We could see them and they couldn’t see us until it was too late. The Humvees were noisy, but with no running lights, one didn’t know what was coming at them and it would scare the shit out of most people. We had the twin SAWs and grenade launchers if we were attacked.

  The Natcher only had a few stalled cars and we were able to reach 50 mph on long stretches where we could see far enough ahead to make sure there were no roadblocks or ambushes waiting on us. Rolling Hills was another matter. There was a roadblock a few miles before the Highway 65 exit. Aaron had us stop about 500 yards before the barrier and he tried the radio to see if they were local police.

  “You, at the roadblock, are you the police?”

  “No, but we are guarding our town and don’t want anyone going through.”

  Aaron thought for a minute and replied, “We are heading to Alabama and have to go through to get there.”

  “Sorry, go around. We can’t take the chance of another gang attacking us.”

  “We are going to pull up a little closer and perhaps you can be convinced to let us go through.”

  The people at the roadblock hadn’t seen our three Humvees and probably thought we were a gang trying to attack the town.

  “Fire up the engines and follow me. Man the SAWs and have the grenade launchers ready.”

  We stopped about fifty yards from the roadblock and a light was shined onto our vehicles.

  “Are you with the Army?”

  “No, we are just trying to get home to Alabama.”

  “Where did you get the military vehicles?”

  “We don’t have time to play twenty questions. Push the truck off the road, so we can pass or we will blow it off the road along with you. We don’t want to hurt you and could even be a big help if you let us pass. We are going through either way. We can be friends or undertakers; your choice.”

  The truck slowly began rolling out of the way and Aaron told us to follow him through the gap.

  “Have grenades ready. We will be too close to use the SAWs when we go through the barricade. Yell and button up if you drop a grenade.”

  We kept the SAWs aimed at the people as we passed and noticed they backed quite a distance from us except for one man who laid his rifle down and walked up to Aaron’s Humvee.

  “You don’t have to open up with those SAWs to show us what could have happened. Who
are you?”

  “Just strangers passing through to Alabama, as I said before. We were stopped at a small community outside of Owensville for the past month and now need to get back home.”

  “My brother is the Sheriff of Daviess County.”

  “We know Bert very well, or at least my friend in the last Humvee does. That’s Zack Johnson back there.”

  Aaron waved for me to drive up alongside him.

  “This guy says he is Bert’s brother.”

  I asked him some personal questions about Bert and he passed with flying colors.

  “We need to get these folks on down the road, but I am only escorting them to the Kentucky border. Is it okay if we come back and spend the day here before heading back to the Owensville area? We need to discuss how we can help each other survive this mess.”

  “We’d be glad to have any friend of Bert’s visit; besides we haven’t received much news from the outside. There is a radio station that comes on every night about 7:00 that gives us bits and pieces of news and a lot of survival tips. That’s how we got some old trucks running and have a project to have a generator running in a few days.”

  “We’d like to compare notes. We should be back about dawn. Are you aware of any trouble south of here?”

  “Nothing you can’t handle with your firepower, but I wouldn’t want to be driving a car south of here. There are a few small gangs and some thugs that will steal anything that isn’t nailed down. We shoot as many as possible when we run across them.”

  We waved goodbye and headed south. The only encounter with anyone trying to stop us was just outside of Franklin when someone took a couple of potshots at us from up on a hill. I had Ally fire a burst at them and they stopped. We stopped at the truck stop on the border and used the hand pumps to refuel.

  Aaron caught me off to the side and said, “I want to leave you with a few words of advice. Find and stock a fallback bug out location. I think your farm is open to attack and my gut says gangs or even your friends in town will attack you when their food runs out. Trust no one outside of your small circle of close friends. Always be ready to bug out in 5-10 minutes.”

  “Thanks for the advice. I’d hate to leave my farm, but I’ve been thinking along the same lines. Ya’ll be careful and we’ll miss you a bunch.”

  After fueling up, we said our goodbyes. I got a hug from every one of the Golds and gave Davi a hug and a kiss.

  “Davi, I need to thank you for the training and guidance over the past months. You have been a big help getting me back on track.”

  “Zack, you are a very special person and not as bad as you think you are," she said and then kissed me on the lips.

  She added, “Remember to think about me every now and then.”

  “Goodbye.”

  They were gone.

  Mike and Sally started teasing me about Davi, but I ignored them, hoping they would tire and move on. Ally didn’t join in and was quiet the rest of the ride back to Rolling Hills.

  ✪✪✪

  ✪

  Chapter 4

  New Friends

  Rolling Hills

  As promised we arrived just after dawn and Bert’s brother, Jake, took us to his house to spend the day. His wife fixed us a light breakfast since we had to get some sleep. I chose to leave someone in the Humvee manning the SAWs at all times. Mike took the first watch and we would rotate every few hours.

  “Thanks for having us to your house. I thought that we’d be spending the day holed up in the woods eating MREs.”

  “We don’t have much, but you are welcome to share what we have.”

  We spent the next two hours discussing any news about why the lights went out and sharing tips on survival. Jake had heard of the takeover of Anderson by a gang and we filled him in on the details. I later thanked the women for not bringing up Joan’s relationship with Todd. When I started yawning, I asked if we could sleep in the barn. I took the next watch and noticed that life in this part of Rolling Hills was much like the rest of the places I’d been since the lights went out. They were nice people who had been sucker punched and were just trying to get by.

  I woke Ally up and took her place in the barn.

  “Ally, don’t let anyone close to the Humvee and keep a grenade handy. Don’t hesitate to use it or the SAWS if you are threatened or approached.”

  “Thanks. I won’t let you down. Hey, are you and Davi going to be seeing each other?”

  “No, she’s just a dear friend and besides she won’t be coming back from Alabama.”

  “Okay, just wondering.”

  “Goodnight.”

  I woke up four hours later with Ally sleeping a few inches from me. I looked at her laying there with her head on her bug out bag and a pistol sticking out from under the bag. She was snoring slightly and had a smile on her face. She had long dark hair and American Indian features. She was beautiful and I couldn’t stop watching her. I had my elbow on the ground and my head propped up with my hand when her eyes popped open and looked into mine. We stared at each other for over a minute, and then I got embarrassed and looked away. I scrambled to my feet, stretching as I stood up.

  “Wake up sleepy heads, it’s time to regroup and compare notes with the Rolling Hills folks. Mike and Sally will stay with the Humvee for the first watch, then Ally and I will stay on watch until we leave. Stay together, stay alert and see what you can learn. I hate to say this, but only trust what you see and nothing you hear. We want to make friends and help these people if we can, but mostly we want to get out of here alive.”

  As if on que, Jake drove up in an old open top jeep and asked them to go on a tour of Rolling Hills.

  “I’ll take you through the safe areas and show you one of our farms. We’re very proud of what we have accomplished since the riots.”

  “How bad was the rioting?”

  “Very bad. On the first day, the SOBs looted the electronics stores, jewelry and pharmacies. The owners and security put up a fight, but were killed quickly. They killed over two hundred drug addicts, criminals and dumbasses looking to get free stuff before they died. The average person began fighting for food the next day when the grocery shelves were empty. Thousands died the second day and every day until our city shrank from over 60,000 to just over 3,000 for the whole county. The ones that are left shoot first and ask questions later. Our only major issue is the gang that controls the east side of town. They raided several gun shops and have a boat load of ARs and AKs and will use them at the slightest provocation.”

  “So, you are coexisting with them?”

  “Yes, we trade them food for gas and diesel. They aren’t much on farming and control the bulk fuel storage tanks on the river.”

  “Who controls the granary and the Gen Agra plant?”

  “We do. Why?”

  “Are ya’ll doling out the grain to your people there must be thousands of tons of corn, wheat and oats there. What about the railyards? Have you checked them for food and grain? I saw several of those bulk type tanks along the road back there.”

  The Sheriff turned green and replied, “Hell no. No one thought about the granary or the railcars.”

  “Man, winter is coming and you need every scrap of food that you can get. If your crops fail, you are screwed. By the way, what have you planted?”

  “Yes, most of the farmers and city people have planted crops. We have planted corn, wheat and potatoes besides the usual garden vegetables.”

  We drove on to see a series of roadblocks and cars nosed front to tail stretching for as far as the eye could see. The open space was created when all of the houses were burned to the ground during the looting. We drove up to one of the checkpoints and talked with the guards.

  “The gang holes up in the houses to the left and their headquarters is that restaurant on that corner where the motorcycles are parked. They have snipers and we have snipers, so the result is a no man’s land and a standoff. They came over under a white flag and they promised not to attack us if we
traded food for fuel. The arrangement has kept the peace for two months.”

  “How many are in the gang?”

  “About 40-50 men, no more than that. There are another 100-120 women and children. Some of them are captives from the early days. We have lost a dozen women who have either defected to them or been kidnapped.”

  “Sheriff, you have about 1,000 men and 500 women who can fight; why haven’t you overwhelmed them and killed every last one?”

  “We would lose too many trying to cross the no man’s land.”

  Ally added, “Did you think about poisoning their food and then attacking?”

  “Our city leaders wouldn’t hear of such barbarism.”

  I replied, “Then be prepared to die a slow death as they get stronger and you get weaker. It’s kill or be killed these days. Take care of the good guys and kill the bad guys.”

  “I’ve talked until I’m blue in the face, but the Mayor and his lackeys won’t hear of these kinds of plans."

  “Do you have anyone with any military leadership experience?”

  “Only some lower ranking men and women who served in the Middle East.”

  “Can you get them together and let me meet with them? I have an idea.”

  “As long as I’m in the meeting, I’ll be glad to arrange the meeting.”

  “Okay. After you give Mike and Sally a tour let’s meet by the Humvee.”

  An hour before dark, the Sheriff walked up leading a band of over 50 men and women who were armed to the teeth. Mike swung the SAWs around, but did not aim them at the group.

  “Zack, these are our vets. They have fought in Vietnam, Grenada, Iraq and Afghanistan. They want to hear what you have to say."

  “I’m Zack Johnson and the first thing I have to say is that I have no military experience, but I have a lot of common sense and have been killing thugs from Oregon to Kentucky since the shit hit the fan. I know you are all going to die if you don’t get rid of that biker gang. I have a couple of ideas, but you have the experience. Put a plan together and execute it. Removing the Mayor would be my first move. He is being either paid by the bikers or threatened. Meet with Jake, he should be your leader."