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

by G. R. Carter

  “Do you know you have deceived these men in front of Allah? They trusted you and you led many to their deaths, yes even damnation for some! Do you understand you must pay for their sins as well as yours?” the Mahdi asked Hussein. “For it is written, only Allah himself holds the power of mercy. Do you ask for mercy?”

  Hussein suddenly found courage, pulling himself up to look our Mahdi in the face. “I do not ask for mercy, holy messenger. I now know I allowed Satan to cloud my eyes. Pride has caused me to mislead Allah’s people. But I want to try to set it right before I die. Will you allow me that small token, then all I ask is a clean death.”

  The Mahdi had mercy on Hussein, for the man had come to the realization he too was deceived. So Hussein stood in front of the tent, and the Mahdi stood beside him with his staff in hand. Hussein looked over his surviving followers, massed in the open field. Allah used the Mahdi’s staff so that Hussein’s voice boomed like thunder across the assembly.

  “Brothers and sisters, our journey together is now over. You have fought bravely for your families and your names. Now hear me, I believed I was the Twelfth Imam come to lead Allah’s people to victory and a new day. But I have now been shown my error, for I was deceived. Clearly Allah has sent his true messenger here, peace be upon him! The Mahdi is here! Come and follow the Mahdi incarnate on Earth! Follow the commands of his holy angels who bring wrath down upon us for our errors!”

  Hussein nodded with dignity to Jabril, then knelt before his blade.

  Silence spread as a blanket over the fields. All who had followed Hussein knelt down and laid themselves prostrate in front of the Mahdi’s tent. But the Mahdi had mercy once more and spared their lives. Many of you who read this testament came from that field, or had family who were spared that day. Gracious and good is our Mahdi, messenger of Allah!

  Then we feasted and rested for three days. Our new followers lined up day and night to pledge their support for the Mahdi, and the Mahdi heard each man’s pledge individually. Though this troubled some of the elders, the wisest said “We have seen great and glorious things. Allah has granted the Mahdi the ability to bring people to his Holy Word. Shall we not trust him to do these things on behalf of Allah?” And those who doubted fasted for the three days, and then all believed.

  Then the Mahdi said, “Lead us to that city that is called Aurora. For Allah has a plan for us there.”

  So then our new brothers led us to what is now our capital city. The Mahdi said, “Peace be upon this place. Now I will take the name Aurora Mahdi, for the lights in the sky announced my coming. And here are riches untold for all of Allah’s warriors.”

  We set to work building the finest mosque we had ever seen, using the finest wood and stone we could find, salvaged in the buildings the infidels once used as their own.

  After a while, some people began to long for their families. Most had taken new wives from those we had conquered, and were anxious to return with their treasures and servants. But the Mahdi said, “Be patient my children, for I have a surprise for you.”

  Then the next day, Isa himself reappeared, leading a group of Holy warriors from the west. These brave men had defeated the infidels in what the Americans once called Minnesota and Wiscon-sin. Their path had led them here, just as ours had. Miracle after miracle visited from Allah!

  With faithful jihadists of the west and the east both present, Mahdi and Isa revealed a vision given to them by Allah. They instructed us to search the ground under what had once been a great airport. With the guidance of Jibril, we found an entrance to an underground chamber. Then the Mahdi and Isa took their holy angels into the cavern. For three sunrises we waited for their return. There was fear among the group and some wondered if they would return. Then, on the third day, the Mahdi and Isa reappeared and said, “Peace be upon you. Allah has granted us another miracle, come and see!”

  So many of the leaders went into the opening with them, which now held light! Boxes and boxes of weapons, ammunition and food were given to us by Allah himself as a reward for our efforts. Enough supplies to keep our armies in the field for years! Mahdi said, “Here let us build an altar to make sacrifices to Allah. For he will continue to bless us. But none may enter the holy of holies. You must not enter the Forbidden Chamber, where only Mahdi or Isa may dwell.”

  Though Sunni and Shia disagreed on the meaning of Allah’s word before the darkness fell, Isa used this miracle as a bridge between us. Together we gave up our past disputes and praised Isa and the Mahdi for bringing us together, forming a mighty army to bring this entire continent to the word of Allah.

  So brothers and sisters, now you know how our Caliphate began, and you see how we came to build the finest city in all of Islam here in Al-Aurora. You have seen the mosque of the Rahman! Do you need more proof we are following the will of Allah himself?

  Holy warriors, destroy the demons that still dare to risk Allah’s judgement by calling themselves Americans. The infidels led by Satan’s wizard, Alexander the Terrible, worshipers of the false prophets, prostrate before their graven red hawk image, attempt to prevent Allah’s holy warriors from spreading the Caliphate to their decadent lands. How can you sleep while they exist to foil the will of your Mahdi, Allah’s holy messenger?

  Oh Martyrs, will you hear the cry to battle? Come and lay down your mortal lives to spend eternity in Paradise! Slay the demons and let this New Levant be cleansed with their very blood!

  www.RedHawkRepublic.com

  The Jenkins Family Dilemma

  Brand new military style vehicles cruised down the winding mountain highway. Clean windshields reflected the bright summer sun as the metal beasts sent black exhaust smoke into the air. Uniformity was rare in the post-Reset world. Everything had to be handmade or cobbled together from pieces left over from the collapse – but these armored trucks were identical to each other, all the way down to the tan paint jobs, making them look as out of place in the modern world as a jet airliner.

  Lamar Jenkins Jr. observed each one through his priceless field binoculars, picked up from a Cog officer brave enough to scout up into the mountains years before. He used the magnified glass to pick out the unit numbers from the side of the trucks, whispering the digits to a younger man lying beside him with a pencil and notebook.

  “1205th is the unit number, and I count ten of the six wheeled transport trucks and two escort Humvees,” Lamar said to his cousin. The visibility wasn’t perfect though most of the morning mountain mist had faded by now. “All of them have the knot symbol on the side.” He subconsciously made the sign of a figure eight, the infinity knot, in the air with one finger. The teenager quickly scribbled onto the paper, his young face twisted with concern. The expression made him look a little older, though not old enough to hide the fact his face only required the occasional shave.

  “Lamar, why do we need to know this stuff? You’ve had us out here for years recording numbers and unit strength. But nothing ever happens,” he challenged, in the way that only family can.

  Lamar considered his relative for a moment. Tyrone was a good kid, a first cousin from his mother’s side. Like all the Congregation’s young men and women, Ty was encouraged to ask questions. Even when the annoyance of their elders was clear, the next generation pursued reasons behind decisions.

  “Something is going on, Ty. Without the numbers we’ve been recording all this time, I would have never noticed it,” Lamar instructed. His dark brown eyes narrowed, aiming to bring the point home to his subordinate. “Cog soldiers are splitting town, heading somewhere south in bunches.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing? We should just be happy to be rid of them. Maybe they got sick of getting their butts whooped and are high tailin’ it out,” Ty said with the confidence only sky high testosterone afforded.

  Lamar knew better. The Cogs were the remnants of the Federal government. In fact, their nickname came from Continuity of Government; the plan put into place when all the lights went out years before. Soldiers had attempted to f
orce Lamar’s parents into camps. Refusing to break up the community they built with their Church, the Congregation fled the Federal District together. Lamar’s namesake father, plus his father’s best friend, had given their lives to see everyone else make it to the safety of the mountains of western Virginia. With the time they bought, Lamar’s mother Charlotte led everyone safely to their new home. She alone managed to keep everyone organized and focused on the task at hand even while overcoming her own grief.

  “Let’s get this information back home. It’s time to make some decisions about what to do,” Lamar said. He was a leader in the Congregation, but not the leader of the Congregation. Not even Pastor claimed that title. This decision would have to be made by Charlotte herself.

  Ty packed his notebook and rolled onto his back to check his rifle. A buzzing noise invaded the solitude of the woods and instinctually he froze. Up through the tree canopy he watched a metallic bird hover overhead. “Lamar?” he said slowly and softly.

  “Hold still little man,” Lamar whispered, trying to assure his cousin and himself. Lamar hadn’t seen anything airborne except God’s own creatures since before the power shut off. He had been just a teenager then, and only remembered such things as dreams of a past life.

  Like science fiction, maybe aliens? Then he smiled inside his head for a brief moment. Might be aliens alright, but probably not little green men. Probably Cog tricks, and somehow related to the fancy trucks he spotted down on the highway.

  Slowly, the drone - yes that’s what they were called, drones he remembered – pulled away from their sight, the buzzing tailing off into the distance.

  “What in God’s name was that,” Ty asked with shock. He was shaking a little, something Lamar had never witnessed.

  “Don’t worry cousin. It’s not a demon or something. Unless you count those Cogs as demons, which I guess we should, huh? That was something called a drone. They used to deliver stuff back when we had electricity. Federals had weapons on some of them, used them for spying and blowing up terrorists, too…”

  Lamar froze at the meaning of his own words. The Cogs probably considered the Congregation to be terrorists now. Which meant that at the very least, the drone was probably looking for anything out of the ordinary.

  “We got to move, Ty. Let’s go, right now. Quick like.” Before Lamar could finish, an explosion ripped through the trees just 50 yards away from where they sat. Both threw themselves down on the ground Instinctually Lamar jumped back up and grabbed his cousin, half dragging him while running down the hill. A second explosion ripped into the spot they had just left, then they were both sliding more than running as they tumbled down towards the interstate below.

  They came to rest in a drainage ditch cut along the westbound lanes. Long since overgrown with no highway maintenance staff to look after it, the spot Lamar landed was a swampy mess of neglect. He felt around, “Ty you there?”

  “Yeah Lamar, I’m here. And yes, I’m ok.” There was a pause and then a panting question, “What should we do now?”

  How am I supposed to know? Lamar thought bitterly, letting despair creep into his mind for a moment. How do I fight something I can’t even see?

  The sound of tires gripping the decaying pavement interrupted his thoughts, snapping him back to the moment. He heard the tire speed slow down then come to a stop right past the tall grass where he lay. A door creaked open, and he could hear swearing from a man’s voice. Then another door, and a voice more clearly defined like someone used to giving orders. “Can’t we just pull through the median and get on the other side?” the voice asked.

  Lamar couldn’t exactly make out what he other voice said, but it clearly was a no for some reason.

  “Ok, then we’ll just have to go back to the turnaround a few miles back,” the commander voice replied.

  “Freeze, we’ve got you surrounded!” They got Ty! Lamar thought in horror, then felt a different dread as he realized Ty’s voice was the one who made the demand.

  A rifle went off a few yards away, and Lamar jumped up raising his own rifle and firing in the direction he thought the vehicle sat. He took one step forward and could make out the top of a gray colored Humvee, with a uniformed figure slumped down beside the passenger side door. Another man in camouflaged fatigues had his hands in the air, with a look of shock and disgust on his face.

  A rock slide, likely caused by the explosions chasing Lamar and Ty down the mountain side, lay scattered across the pavement. The road was impassible even to the Humvee’s high clearance.

  “Son, you’ve made a big mistake. This place is going to be crawling with my soldiers any second. I’d suggest you let me go and get as far away as you can,” the man shouted. “You do know my people can track me anywhere, right?” Clearly he was a senior officer, both by demeanor and the fact that he called the soldiers his.

  “If that was the case, you would have already called for help,” Lamar said as he approached the man, his battle rifle still in ready position. The appearance of a second weapon pointed his direction seemed to take a little confidence away from the puffed out uniform shouting orders.

  The corner of his eye caught movement in the back of the Humvee. “Out of the vehicle, now!” Lamar demanded. The officer looked back and nodded, and a woman dressed in a matching set of fatigues stepped out of the door. “Anybody else in there?” Lamar asked.

  “No, just us. But I don’t know what you hope to gain by holding us. What are you going to do, kill us?” the officer asked with disdain.

  “No, we’re not like you. We don’t just kill unarmed people for the fun of it. In fact you’re going to come with us. And if you don’t, we won’t consider you unarmed anymore,” Lamar said with a growl.

  “What about him?” the officer said as he nodded toward the slumped man next to the Humvee.

  “Too late for him now. You two walk over here and kneel. Ty grab anything useful you can find out of the vehicle. Food, first aid kit, weapons. Thirty seconds, go!” Lamar commanded.

  In less than a minute, Lamar had his two hostages back on their feet. Heading up into the trees and on the way back to the Congregation, still not sure what he was doing or why.

  *****

  Lamar and Ty could smell a cook fire as they approached their camp. Here in the safety of Jefferson National Forest Congregation folk felt safe enough to cook, wrapped in the protection of thick forest and broken country. It had been over two years since any soldiers made the attempt to find them. The Elders of the Congregation warned their folk against complacency, but human nature was difficult to overcome when comfort was involved.

  “Halt, who goes there?” a deep voice shouted from a hidden blind.

  Ty froze and raised his hands, unable to see Lamar smile at the reaction of his apprentice.

  “Relax, Ty. If Roy wanted you dead or captured, you’d already be on the ground. Roy, come out before you give my cousin a heart attack,” Lamar said with a shout.

  Branches and leaves in human form rose up from beside a blackberry thicket. Then with one fluid motion a large man with a shaved head appeared from under a camouflage gunny hat.

  “Glad to see you home, Lamar,” Roy Mason said with a nod. “You too, Ty.” He eyed the strangers in Cog uniforms walking between his two friends. “I see you brought company for dinner.”

  “How long have you been watching us?” Ty demanded. The young man’s irritation at being tracked without his knowledge was clear.

  Lamar broke in before Roy could answer. “He started shadowing us about two miles back. I’m assuming he was testing us, is that right Roy?”

  Roy nodded. “And myself, chief. I wanted to see if I could track the best without being seen.”

  Lamar smiled at the man. Roy was a couple years older, but always respected Lamar’s woodland skills. Roy’s father had been an Army Ranger and developed some of the first field training programs used to sharpen the skills of Congregation sentries. Lamar learned quick and exhibited a special aptitude for
the craft. To have his mentor’s son seek his approval spoke well of his achievements.

  “You did real good, Roy. Honest. Your gear gave you away is all. Couple of noises here and there let me know something out of place was around. We need to work on that for the entire Ranger team. How long have you been out here?” Lamar asked.

  “Just since yesterday afternoon. I’m pulling a 24 and then heading back in. Dad says that we shouldn’t try 48s right now. We need to keep everyone rotating,” Roy answered.

  Lamar nodded his head. “What have you seen?”

  “Animals are moving strange. Lots of deer headed up our way. Birds, too. And every once in a while I hear what sounds like a big bee buzzing overhead. But I haven’t seen anything clear. How about you?”

  Lamar grimaced. “We had our own run in with that buzzing noise. That led us to these two,” he replied and nodded towards his two captives. “Not sure what’s going on,” he replied to his friend. “We’re heading in to speak with the Elders now. Let’s get your relief out here so you can join in.”

  Roy and Lamar walked slowly towards the Congregation’s main camp. Even with the relative peace and safety of the woods, friendly fire was still a threat.

  Small but tidy huts scattered throughout the hillside. Most were single room dwellings, though occasionally multiple levels were present. Each were built around a large tree, adding both stability and camouflage to the community. Smaller dwellings were designed to be disassembled and moved in less than an hour, relying on the natural anchor of the trees as the structural foundation. You had to literally stumble into the camp to find it. Even then a stranger would be hard pressed to guess the number of people sheltered there.