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

by G. R. Carter

  The time he spent up here, plus all the hours spent on their still functioning tractors, gave him the chance to figure a way to keep the bad guys away. The Ruffs' farm now held thirty-three people, but that included seven kids too young to do anything in the way of defense. He needed to recruit more and had convinced a family of seven to join them in the next couple of days. Ironically, the more Julia improved the campus, the more trouble he had in convincing people to stay on the farms…

  Suddenly, Jim thought he saw a shape move between the machine shed and the hog barn. He strained to see through the rain, hoping it was just a leaf blowing through with the wind. But then another shape followed, too big for a leaf and too conspicuous for an animal. Not worried about a false alarm, Jim began to clang the old school bell that hung next to the watch stand. At the same time, he pulled a rope back and forth, simultaneously ringing another bell that was placed inside the farm house.

  He heard a scream pierce the night from below; the other man on watch was posted at the entrance of the machine shed. Scrambling over the wet metal, Jim stumbled down the stairs that wound around the grain bin he was perched above. More screams as he willed himself to go faster into the dark, losing sight of the shed and the house momentarily as the staircase took him to the back of the bin.

  Standing at the base of the stairs was a scrawny figure with the remnants of jeans held up by a tattered rope and a flannel shirt half hanging from his shoulders. Both men froze for an instant that seemed like an eternity. Terrified, Jim suddenly realized he had left his rifle up on the lookout platform. His haste now left him defenseless except for his skinning knife sheathed on his belt.

  As he reached for the knife he watched the scarecrow figure raise up a shotgun held low out of the rain. The two barrels stared at Jim’s face like an evil owl and he stood there, knife in hand, resigned to his fate.

  Click. Click.

  The gun misfired from either the rain or neglect; a wave of relief washed over Jim as he felt the joy of survival. That joy suddenly turned to rage and he lunged at the scarecrow man with his knife drawn. Screaming a guttural roar, he lowered his shoulder and knocked the gun and the man into the mud. Before the water could even splash he was on the man, knife slicing into denim and flannel and skin. Eventually the rage subsided and he felt himself begin to wretch with the realization he had just taken a human life. The horror he imagined now became all too real. He just broke one of his religion’s most emphasized commandments and the self-defense argument wouldn’t take hold on his conscience for a while.

  Another scream came from the other side of the grain bin, and Jim staggered to his feet. He considered going up to retrieve his rifle, but the screams pulled him towards the chaos. Instead he grabbed the scarecrow’s gun, attempting to clear the misfired shells.

  Running around the corner his heart sunk. Already the farmhouse was burning and bandits were dragging someone or something out of the machine shed. Adrenaline kicked in and for a moment he considered which way to go. Unable to determine how many bandits he faced, he knew the smart move was to make for the fields and get into town for help.

  But he also realized there was no way he’d ever forgive himself for turning tail while his friends and family were dying. With the busted shotgun in one hand and his knife in the other, he began to run towards the hellish scene up ahead. Each step brought a clearer vision of what was happening and each sight brought more rage back into this peaceful man.

  The first bandit he caught by surprise, plunging his knife into the thin flesh of his back. The man arched in agony, freeing the person trapped below as he grabbed for the thing causing such pain. Jim brought the shotgun butt down on the attacker's head to finish him. He ignored the unmoving victim and moved to the next instance of carnage, marching now instead of running. The rain kept anyone from noticing him, and any who glanced his way assumed he was part of what was going on.

  Another bandit got Jim’s knife in the back of the neck, and the man standing next to him turned just in time to have his teeth bashed in by the shotgun. One more twist and the knife plunged into the stomach of a bald-headed savage carrying a body in a nightgown out of the back door of Jim’s burning house. The tormented howl of the doomed bandit finally got the rest of his cohort’s attention. As he staggered down the steps under the weight of his victim, the bald man took the knife to the ground with him.

  Suddenly Jim was surrounded, and he swung the shotgun wildly at anything that moved.

  “Back off, he’s mine!” A man with a cropped haircut and a ragged policeman’s uniform stepped forward. Even in the dark Jim could see the fresh tattoos running up the man’s arms and across his forehead. The sharp bird-like features stared at Jim for a moment, sizing him up for prey.

  “That was my cousin you just killed, farmer,” the former cop growled at Jim.

  “And that’s my entire family you just killed, demon,” Jim shouted back.

  “Not your entire family. Not yet. I know who you are, we’ve been watching you. After I’m done with you and your little group here, I’m going to find your pretty daughter and keep her for myself. Maybe I’ll keep you alive long enough to see her one last time,” the villain said, a gap-toothed smile visible in the firelight.

  “You’ll starve long before you ever get to her. After what you’ve done here tonight, everyone’s going to be looking for you. There’s no courts anymore, no defense lawyers to get you off the hook,” Jim countered.

  The man bust out laughing. “Don’t you get it, dirt man? I was the law before this all happened, and I’m sure as heck the law now! Those soldiers you and your buddies pissed off up north are keeping us well supplied. All we have to do is keep burning your stuff and killing your women, and they’ll keep us fed. Pretty freakin’ sweet deal. Guess maybe you should have taken their offer before, maybe then you would've lived a while longer,” the ex-cop finished.

  Without another word he grabbed a machete from behind his back and lunged at Jim. The shotgun came up to block the overhand cut of two feet of metal. Arms raised to hold the slippery shotgun with both hands, Jim never saw the Bowie knife come up from underneath and slice into his stomach. A burning sensation followed by the worst pain he ever felt made him lose his grip on the shotgun and fall to his knees. Involuntarily he clutched the wound, looking down to watch his hands turn red with rain and blood. He stared for a moment, and then tried to regain his footing.

  The former lawman walked up and lifted Jim’s chin to meet his eyes. “I told you, farm boy, I am the law. Maybe your wife and her pet police chief should have remembered that. I’ll make sure to remind her when I’m standing over her just like this.”

  One last drive of adrenaline gave Jim the strength to roar and knock the ex-law man into the mud. The cop’s bird-like features turned to rage as he regained his feet and picked up the machete. As Jim pushed himself up on the slippery grass, his last sight on earth was the blade as it arced through the air aimed at him.

  *****

  Coach Parker Mosely and Chief of Police Danny Cable stood over the covered bodies of twenty-three men, women and children. No one knew for sure how many people had been staying at the Ruff farm the night before. But the one thing they did know was that at least four young women who were members of the families represented here were unaccounted for. Ten bulky young men with shotguns and rifles stood behind the two middle-aged authority figures. Their sharp eyes looked out towards the fields, scanning back and forth for any signs of movement. Another ten spread out and searched the nearby pasture and cropland looking for signs of any survivors.

  One who clearly didn’t survive was the farm’s owner, Jim Ruff. His wife and daughter sat in one of the college’s maintenance trucks, waiting for the news they dreaded. Somehow, Coach Mosely managed to talk the two women into waiting for him to inspect the scene. He couldn’t hide the still smoldering buildings from their view, but at least he could keep them from having the image of Jim Ruff’s remains in their dreams for the rest of
their lives. Coach Mosely hoped he would be so lucky, himself.

  Clearly Jim had made a fight of it in the end, and received untold hacking blows from a blunt blade as a reward. A small American flag was shoved in his mouth, a clear message no one had an explanation for.

  Both men were blessed with strong stomachs, allowing them to help clean up the faces of most of the victims. They carefully placed old sheets brought out from the campus dorms over the rest of the bodies. The faces allowed Julia and Rebekah to identify each person and then say a goodbye. Time for sentimentality was brief now, as both Moseley and Cable were anxious to get their leader out of this danger zone and back behind the relative safety of the campus boundaries. Julia stood looking down at her husband, a heartbroken tilt of her head pursed a teary smile. She remembered the good man she loved for so many years. A hopelessly devoted father and friend, his bravery in the face of death was to be expected; he was a faithful man with no doubt about where his eternal future lay.

  Rebekah sobbed at her feet. Inconsolable at the loss of her biggest fan in the world, she screamed “Daddy, Daddy don’t leave me!” Finally Julia crouched and put her arm around Rebekah. The younger woman thrust her face into Julia’s chest, repeating “Why, Mom? Why did this have to happen?” over and over.

  With no answers to give, Julia remained silent, simply hugging her daughter. There was no reason for this senseless death and destruction. If someone needed food they could have asked, same with shelter. Old Main didn’t have enough to go around, but they tried to share with honest people.

  The problem was, these weren’t honest people causing this. They were savages. Sub-human. In America before the Reset, nearly 25% of all people were on some kind of mood-altering drug, some illegal but most prescribed by the very government health programs supposed to help.

  Just weeks after those drug shipments shut off, the addicted brains of many of those people were scrambled. Withdrawal symptoms ranged from total mental shutdown to extreme paranoia and rage. The results of the latter were clear on the ground here.

  “President Ruff, we have to go. We don’t know if whoever did this is still around,” Coach Moseley said. “I promise the boys will give everyone a proper burial. Or we can bring them back to the campus if you want to bury them there.”

  Julia shook her head. “No, Jim for sure would want to be buried here. I’m assuming the rest would want the same. They wanted to live here on the farm…” The pain of the choices they made now resonated with her. Maybe if I had been more understanding. Tried to see things his way, she thought.

  “We’ll see to it. We won’t mark any of the graves for now. But we’ll make a map. When things settle down you can come out and make a proper stone for them,” Moseley said.

  “Thanks, Coach. I’m so thankful for you and Chief Cable and your guys. You’re a real blessing to us.”

  Julia took Rebekah around the shoulders and made her way back to the truck. She watched her daughter go from strong young woman to little girl and back again. Julia could feel her daughter’s back stiffening, willing herself to be strong in this moment of agony.

  “We have to ask them for help mom. Coach and Chief Cable do what they can. But we have to ask the Okaw for help. They’re better at fighting then we are. You saw those armored vehicles they drove over here last week,” Rebekah pleaded.

  “We could say yes to Walsh, I guess. He at least seems civilized,” Julia sighed.

  “Mom, think about what you’re saying. Dad called Walsh a Nazi. Said he was some kind of dictator. I thought that’s exactly what you were against.”

  “Your dad is dead!” Julia snapped. “No big ideas of how things ought to be are going to bring him back! How in the world am I supposed to worry about this kind of stuff when people are starving or getting cut to pieces by a bunch of outlaws who appear out of nowhere, Rebekah?”

  Julia was white-faced and puffing breath in and out. Rebekah stood stunned, never having witnessed her mother lose her cool in such a fashion. But facing the death of her husband and so many cousins and nieces and nephews was too much even for her to handle.

  Rebekah simply reached for the door handle of the truck and climbed in, slowly closing the door behind her. Julia turned to Cable and Moseley, who had walked up but were doing their best to appear not to be listening.

  “Coach, Chief, I want a meeting with you as soon as you get back to Old Main, ok? I guess I knew things were bad all around, but it takes something like this really shake a person into reality,” Julia said.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Julia? I think we’d all understand if you took a little time to deal with things,” Cable said.

  “This is how I deal with things, Chief. I try to solve the problems we’ve been handed. I’m not saying I’ll ever get over our loss. But the one thing my husband would want is to make sure this doesn’t happen anywhere else. He tried to warn me and I didn’t take it seriously enough. I won’t do that again,” she said. “Now if you could have one of your team take Rebekah and me back, there are some personal affairs I need to attend to.”

  *****

  Four Humvees flying the Stars and Stripes pulled up in front of the namesake building of Old Main College. The castle-like building rose above the circle drive, giving one the feeling of arriving at an old English country estate instead of a Midwestern college. The potato hills in the yard leading up to the entrance told any visitors that pretense of normalcy had long since fled.

  Sharply dressed soldiers in gray combat fatigues stepped out of the matching vehicles and strode up to the entrance. Julia Ruff stepped out to meet them on the threshold step, allowing two Old Main Militia members to step to either side of her.

  “President Ruff, I’m Captain Tyler Eckert, Executive Officer, New American Reconstruction Force. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” the man in the lead said as he approached the building. He appeared to be in his early thirties, with a haircut just slightly longer than Julia remembered seeing on most military men before the collapse. But the fitness was definitely there, and he moved with a confidence that only successful combat provides.

  “I wasn’t aware that I had a choice, Captain. You showed up, I didn’t invite you. I have to warn you, we’re a little more on edge these days then the last time you visited. I apologize if we’re not quite as polite as we once were,” Ruff said.

  “No offense taken, ma'am. I was sorry to hear about your loss. This is a dangerous world we find ourselves in. Colonel Walsh wanted me to send his sincerest condolences to you. When he found out what happened he wanted to make sure you knew he would help find the evil men behind these vile acts,” Eckert said.

  “News travels fast these days, Captain. It’s only been a week and your Colonel is already fully aware of what is going on in our backyard. Impressive intel you have,” Ruff said sternly.

  “Yes, ma'am. The Colonel does value information. Just like he values the allies of New America. He wanted me to ask again if you would be willing to join us in our efforts to rebuild our country. He is anxious for your expertise in administration.”

  “He’s anxious to get his hands on the Applied Science faculty, you mean.”

  “Old Main would be a tremendous asset to New America. You would retain your role as President and be a fully autonomous province of the country as Reconstructed,” Eckert said.

  “What you offer we already have. I’m waiting for the ‘or else’ moment, Captain.”

  Eckert hid his emotions well. During New America’s recent conquests, usually the ultimatum was submit or be crushed. Only Old Main’s substantial assets kept this situation from being the same. Colonel Walsh wanted the people, the formulas and the equipment of the college, and he was willing to negotiate to get it.

  “Madame President, you and I both know that refusing New America’s offer is bad for your community. Whatever grudges you had against the Federal government before the collapse are irrelevant now. You’ve experienced firsthand the terror that is happening al
l over the country. We can debate our ideas of perfect government later, but we have to stay alive before we can have that conversation,” Eckert said to her.

  “I’ve made a similar argument myself recently,” Julia recounted. “Tell your Colonel that I appreciate his condolences and his offer. But our answer is ‘no.’ Oh, and by the way, tell him that we know where the men responsible for these acts of violence against our community are hiding out. So we won’t be needing your help for that either.”

  Eckert stood motionless for a moment. Then with a simple nod he spun on one heel and returned to the passenger side of the lead Humvee. As the vehicles sped away, Julia prayed that she had made the right decision. Ceding to New America was the easy choice and the safe one. But over the long run Rebekah was right. They had to stand for something; mere survival from day to day just wasn’t good enough. And after speaking with Phillip Hamilton and Clark Olsen, she got the impression that Okaw Valley was going to be a very valuable ally.

  *****

  “That’s the soldiers, Mr. Hamilton. Same ones who were at Old Main yesterday,” the young militia man said. Phil smiled inwardly at the teenager, sporting a football helmet with the face mask removed. Instead of being the red and white colors of the football team, the plastic bell was now a mottled green and gray.

  He couldn’t laugh at anyone’s appearance too much; he himself wore a car racing fire suit died in a similar pattern to the young militiaman’s helmet. His own full-face helmet sat beside him, as there was no way to look through his binoculars while the helmet covered his head. He had five Okaw SDC men around him, each dressed in a similar uniform. These were all Turtle commanders awaiting his orders. The fire-resistant crash equipment they wore spoke to the nature of the vehicles they drove, armored trucks that drove into dangerous areas. The rest of their crews stayed with their vehicles now concealed in a tree line of a former park already overgrown with brush.