Fortress Farm Trilogy: Volumes 1, 2 & 3 (Fortress Farm Series)

by G. R. Carter

  Rusty paused, thinking through the logistics. “Are you alright leaving your home, Charlotte? Everything you’ve built here, there’s a good chance it will be torn apart by looting.”

  “You’re probably right, but I don’t see the alternative. Those talks you and Lamar had over the years... I’ve got my little ones to think about, and my nieces and nephews. You’re right about desperate people, more right than you know. Because we’ve lived with it a little longer than you have...no offense, of course,” Charlotte said.

  “No offense taken, Charlotte,” Rusty assured her. “I understand what you mean. With me it was always theoretical. I know you’ve seen firsthand what can happen if someone doesn’t have any hope in tomorrow.

  “I’m a guest here, and I already told Lamar he was in charge now. So if you two think that’s the best course of action, I’ll help any way I can.”

  *****

  Lamar and Charlotte’s entire family and church friends showed up for supper that night. Nearly forty people filled the house, porch, and folding tables in the backyard. The yard didn’t hold as many people as a typical lawn - the Jenkins filled nearly every space with 4x4 garden boxes holding any vegetable, fruit and herb suitable to the DC climate.

  Rusty found himself amazed by the wide array of homemade items the Jenkins could create. I’ve been talking a big game about personal responsibility. The Jenkins were actually doing something about it he thought, kicking himself for not having the foresight to follow through. Clearly Charlotte and Lamar were the de facto leaders of the whole neighborhood and extended family. Charlotte’s mother was the matriarch of the group, and was given the seat of honor at the dining room table. But Lamar was the one who kept the group settled while Charlotte supervised the group in the kitchen.

  After an hour of eating and talking, Lamar called for everyone’s attention. Younger teenagers quickly gathered the smallest children and ushered them outside to play. Clearly this wasn’t the first time a family meeting was held at the Jenkins' household. Everyone seemed to know the drill and their responsibilities. Charlotte and her group came out from the kitchen, drying off their hands on aprons and towels. Lamar wouldn’t start the meeting without his wife and she would come out when she was good and ready.

  “Listen up, everyone, please,” Lamar said loudly and clearly. “I hope you all enjoyed the food. A goodly part of it is the gift of my guest here tonight. This gentleman here has been my boss for the last seven years. He’s a good man, whose first thought today was to give me all the food he had in the restaurant to bring here to you, to help us in a rough time for everybody.”

  Applause and nods of thanks were directed to Rusty, who blushed and held up his hands to redirect the praise.

  Lamar continued, “But more important than today’s food, this here fella also introduced me to some very well-informed individuals over the years. Folk who made me see that a man’s nothing who can’t get food for his family. They were farmers who came to the Federal District to make a difference in our government. When they figured out they couldn’t do much to change things, they went on home to take care of their own families. That much we can all respect.”

  More nods from the group at that statement. Family ties meant everything in the Jenkins’ neighborhood.

  “So, Rusty here would like to say just a few words about what he’s learned from people in the know. Tell you about what bad things might happen any minute. I’ve asked him to tell you what he knows. And what is heading our way, sooner rather than later.”

  All attention now turned to Rusty as he stood in front of the crowd. He was no public speaker, but had confidence about what was happening to the District and the country.

  For thirty minutes, he told story after story relayed to him over the years by experts who'd come through his bar and books he'd read here and there. He talked about the “nine meals from chaos” theory and about how emergency and health professionals would quit showing up to work so they could help their own families instead. Rusty didn’t know if what he was saying was sinking in, but there was total attention to him while he spoke.

  After he concluded, Lamar stood back up and asked for any questions from the group. Not a single word was uttered from the group until Charlotte’s mother broke the silence. “Sir,” she said to Rusty, “what do you propose we do about all this?”

  Rusty, Charlotte and Lamar made eye contact in turn. They nodded to Rusty and he outlined Charlotte’s plan for the moving the group to the Junior High as soon as possible.

  The trio stood amazed when the next question was simply, “What do you think we should bring along?”

  Chapter Ten – The Pullback

  Illinois University

  National Guard Armory

  Just Days after the Great Reset

  “You can’t order me around that way! You can’t order any civilian authority to do anything at all! I don't know who you think you are, but you have absolutely zero authority to force this city to what you want!”

  Mayor Gabrielle Rosenberg – who was accustomed to being treated with respect – looked like a tomato perched upon a small body, bright red and ready to burst. She cared not one whit that the man sitting behind the metal desk was wearing a uniform and carrying a weapon. No one ordered her around, and especially not some weekend warrior who probably thought women were better suited as camp followers and not elected officials.

  An impassive face looked back at her. His career saw Colonel Darian T. Walsh face many civilians who not only didn’t respect the gray urban camouflage uniform he wore, but who frankly despised it. Since the Pullback began years ago, more and more citizens considered the military a liability. The only men and women left serving were those whose belief in a greater good could withstand the total lack of status they suffered in the world outside.

  Colonel Walsh formed his assigned group of diverse servicemen into what he felt was a cohesive unit, one that would be able to respond to any crisis, whatever that might be here in the middle of the heartland of America. Since the country was abandoning its bases around the world, there was little reason to believe there would ever be another rotation overseas. As members left the service, their ranks were not replenished. Units simply merged and consolidated equipment in bases such as the one he was in now.

  This base was probably left alone because the current congressman from this district had some pull over the base closure list. There was still enough economic benefit to a military facility to fight to keep it open. But once the wheeler-and-dealer left office for a lucrative lobbying gig, Walsh had no doubt all personnel and equipment here would rotate to a much larger city with a politician who mattered more.

  That point was probably moot, now. All communications with the capital and the Pentagon had ceased. In fact, all communications everywhere ceased. His coffee pot and refrigerator still worked, but that was about it. Strangely, all of his newest vehicles quit working as soon as the computers inside were accessed. The oldest of the supplies trucks still ran, and some of the older model Humvees. However, the few pieces of modern heavy equipment sat like stones in the ready yard.

  His last emergency flash communication was to prepare for civil unrest. No reason why, and no guidance as to what to do about it. Did the Solar Storms finally overwhelm the defensive structure that the geeks built? Terror attack? Or cyber–attack? He had no idea. But he was left here with 500 soldiers and their dependents, plus an increasingly irritated civilian population of almost 50,000 residents and students from the large public university located in the older part of town.

  They had waited patiently for a couple of days for the power to come back on. Temporary shutdowns happened frequently, as the Network defended itself against the intermittent Solar Storms that continued to bombard the planet. But each time the hum and purr of the servers and electrical engines would start up as the Network woke their modern world from a quick nap.

  So they waited…and waited. Desperation set in by the second night, as electron
ics junkies became desperate without their fix. Then the real junkies got irritable without a supply of whatever their drug happened to be.

  During his overseas deployments, back when America had those, Walsh witnessed firsthand the lengths people went to in securing what they needed. If those people were parents, all bets were off. Civilized and pampered Americans never really knew hunger. Even the poorest neighborhoods here were still lives of luxury compared to Third World slums. Those comfortable lives were quickly coming to a screeching halt just a few meals after the food deliveries stopped.

  Instinctively, Colonel Walsh knew that if the power didn’t come back on immediately, the damage would be irreparable. His base was fine; they had enough food for at least two years between canned supplies and MREs that were a part of any rapid deployment force’s inventory. Fortunately, water wouldn’t be a problem; even if water pressure dropped from the city mains, there was a well on site for disaster situations.

  But the thought of 500 soldiers holding off 50,000 desperate starving zombie citizens chilled even his hardened backbone. Those people would figure out soon enough where a meal might be, and desperate people did desperate things.

  He was a bit surprised at the realization he was only concerned with how to keep his soldiers safe. How the world had changed! In the past his concern would have been for the mission of those soldiers, which was to safeguard the local community. Now, it looked like that community was a threat to be guarded against.

  Which is precisely why I called the esteemed mayor and her merry band of idiots on the city council to meet with me. He needed to get a gauge on where their minds were. Did they know what his supply situation was on base? Did they intend to make demands of him? His own advisory council, made of up his two captains and their closest lieutenants, raised the concern that having these people on base would give them a look at their assets. Their concerns were valid, but the colonel felt that the reward outweighed the risk. And best to have these strutting peacocks on his territory, not theirs.

  For a brief moment, the colonel was surprised that none of his men objected that they wouldn’t be helping the townspeople. He figured there would be at least one who demanded they fulfill their oath. Frankly, that lack of devotion to the average citizen left him a little sad. But nearly all of these soldiers had family there on base with them and their only real friends were fellow service members. Considering the treatment soldiers received over the last few years, there was little surprise in their priorities. Regardless, they were loyal to him. He knew that. And they would all follow his orders as long as that didn’t put their loved ones in senseless danger. His plans were about keeping them safe. He had no intention of sacrificing the lives of his men or their families for these moron politicians or any of the idiots who put them there.

  He was going to give everyone in town a choice, and how they responded to that choice might be the difference between life and death. Not by his hand, but by nature’s hand. After all, survival of the fittest, right? He knew from watching the ways of the world that only the strong survived. The bleeding-heart religious types might feel the need to run around handing out their hard-earned food and treasure to the lazy, but his experience taught him better.

  His wife and kids still tried to get him into the church thing, but outside of Christmas it was a losing game. He played along that one day a year because he liked to see his wife smile at him. But the hypocrisy of it all was too much for him to take on a weekly basis. A loving God? Yeah right. Not with the misery I’ve seen in my career. If there was a God, and he highly doubted it, humans had long ago been cut loose. They were all on their own, especially now.

  All the modern electronic “miracles” were sitting there like paperweights. Not that there was much paper to be found. Everything had to be electronic, and finding a piece of scratch paper was like finding a lottery ticket. Except those didn’t exist anymore either, now random people were selected for extra dollar credits on their Wristbands. You didn’t even have to play, the ticket prices were just deducted from your weekly credit allotment.

  I wonder if the mayor used her Wristband to get her food ration. Doubt it, I’m guessing she’s a “do as I say, not as I do” kind of person. Probably got a personal supply stashed. Now where would that food be stored? Maybe he could finally find out. But first he would have to defuse her anger from that last outburst.

  “Madame Mayor, I do apologize if I sounded rude, we’re all under a lot of stress. And in the military, sometimes we are a little too blunt with one another. I apologize if I overstepped my bounds,” the colonel said. He put on his best apologetic look of concern. His second-in-command was the only one to know the face was something he practiced in the mirror. The expression was a way of disarming higher ranks when he needed something for his command.

  The mayor softened her expression a bit.

  The colonel continued, “I was merely concerned about the safety of the students on campus because food supplies have to be getting dangerously low there. I just thought that with the help of the police, we could secure the food supplies and get them in one central location. Perhaps with a combined team of troops from my command and officers from the police department?

  “We both know what will happen if common citizens have access to limited food supplies. Chaos will ensue, and the people will think that the city has lost control of the situation. I just thought that this would be a good opportunity to show the entire city that our civilian authorities had a good plan. That the situation was under control.

  “And you know that the sight of my big trucks with food stacked up would give peace to some who would worry about where their next meal would come from. Wouldn’t that be a great way to show everyone that you are firmly in control of this crisis?” The colonel had to keep from gagging. His second was probably doing his best to keep from busting out laughing.

  He gave nearly the same speech to a Somali warlord who was hoarding a UN food supply to control his local population. Walsh convinced the warlord to show everyone how he made the Americans follow his orders by transporting the food for him. Walsh promised that this would give the warlord credibility with his people by pushing around the Great Satan. By the time he realized the Americans were driving away with it all, he was almost dead from a crazed mob of hungry villagers.

  Those who wish to lead for their own sake are much the same. No matter continent, education or background, they can all be controlled by the same methods, Walsh reminded himself.

  Aloud, he went for the close: “Of course, all actions will be under your authority. And I promise I will be on site myself. Of course, I will have to give the direct orders to my troops. Chain of command is important to my soldiers. But I will honor your wishes in logistics and security.”

  The mayor, being a political creature, recognized the opportunity that had presented itself to her. The Feds would have the power back on any second. And when it came back on, she would have a great story to tell her higher-ups. Not only did she save the wealthy kids on campus, but she successfully brought an Army colonel to heel. There was probably a job with her name on it in the capital after pulling this off.

  “When would you suggest we do this, Colonel? How much time do you need to prepare?” the Mayor asked.

  “My command can roll right now, Madame Mayor. I think sooner is better than later, don’t you? We have those kids to think about,” the Colonel reminded her.

  “Of course, we need to take care of those kids. Who knows when that power might come back on?” she replied. A genuine person would have meant that it was a catastrophe if it didn’t come back on for a while; the Mayor thought it would be a catastrophe if it came back on before she got this show organized.

  “It’s ten o’clock now. Why don’t you meet Chief O’Toole at the old grocery warehouse down on south Highway 45 at about 1 pm? Do you know where that is? Good. That will give me enough time to get back and get him up to speed with what he’ll need to say. We know we have at least one o
ld clunker running in the city fleet. But none of our CityLink Volts will even blink on. Unbelievable to me that we have two hundred vehicles belonging to the city and none of them will work except the oldest thing we have!

  “By the way, why do your vehicles work if no one else’s will?” the mayor asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “Simply because our equipment is designed to operate in the most remote corners of the planet, even where there was limited or no electrical grid at all. War doesn’t stop when the power goes out.”

  The mayor nodded. “I guess we should have all thought of that before. It just seemed like we were really getting a handle on everything again. This glitch in the power system will probably set us back months.”

  More like years…probably forever, the colonel thought to himself. As soon as rioting broke out in the major cities, the damage to America would be fatal. The country nearly collapsed just a few short years ago before trillions spent on the Pullback was credited with saving the economy. Walsh witnessed the effect of money printing in other countries and knew the miracle of the GRAPEVINE only delayed the collapse. Government monetary policy made the pain worse when time ran out. Others argued the transfer of assets and wealth from small cities and private business gave the illusion of recovery. Really, the national GDP hadn’t grown since the prior recession/depression. But the megacities sure had grown and any business wanting government money had to be in one of the Capitals. Any people who wanted jobs followed the businesses.

  All of that was theory to Colonel Walsh. His situation was right here, right now. He now knew exactly where the city was storing the monthly food allotment sent by the Feds. That was a critical start to the success of his plan.

  Now he nodded to his second, who excused himself and headed out of the office. A ready team of two Humvees, two transport trucks and twenty soldiers were waiting to make the two-mile trek to the University warehouses, where the separate food supplies they received were kept. Previous recon told the colonel that there was one security guard on duty there at any time. Chances were with the current blackout he wouldn’t be there either.