Days of Terror

by Jack Hunt

  “But you didn’t observe the place before heading in?”

  “We did but some things you can only know through hands-on experience. We didn’t know what kind of system they had set up. All we saw was life from the outside: militia patrolling, people contributing in different ways — it’s not exactly a lot to go on, is it?”

  “No, I agree.” Elliot adjusted the rifle on his shoulder. “So what did you do before this?”

  “I was an engineer.”

  He nodded. “And you?”

  “Military.”

  “What about the others?”

  “Gary over there was a cop. Damon, a convict. Maggie, customer service rep. Jesse, a bicycle messenger. The others held down various average jobs in Lake Placid. It’s really a mixed bag.”

  “Exactly. That’s how we’ve been able to make it work. Anything that can be taught by one is taught to the others, that way if we don’t make it, they know how to pick up where we left off.”

  “And Mack? What’s his deal?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone has an end game.”

  He smiled. “Survival. That’s it.”

  “You heard any news about the attack?”

  “Not much. We figure with all the U.S. troops stationed around the world, at some point they’ve got to show up. We’re just holding out until then.”

  The rest of the journey they exchanged stories. It didn’t matter where people lived, they all faced the same challenges. Once they made it to the camp, Mack was there to greet them. After they climbed up to one of their makeshift platforms, which weaved between the trees, Mack brought them into a hut built out of carved wood and planks. All of it was held together by nails, twine and rope. Each of them was given a plate of food, more than enough to quiet the grumbles in their stomach. They had been surviving on granola bars, MREs and the odd squirrel or rabbit. This, however, was wild boar, potatoes and vegetables, the first real meal they’d had in a long time.

  “I’ve got to ask. Why have they not found you guys?”

  “Who?”

  “Shelby’s men.”

  “This forest is vast and they don’t come this way. Before we set up camp we watched their comings and goings, saw the areas they focused on for hunting, and scouting potential threats. We made sure to live deep in the forest, out of sight, out of earshot and miles from the compound. We have enough people to keep a watch on the perimeter twenty-four seven. We rotate in shifts throughout the day and night. At any given time there are twenty of us out there, working in pairs to ensure that no one is caught off-guard. We stay high up in the trees, and have weaved branches to hide the platforms as best as we can. So far it’s worked. People are content. We don’t go hungry, and if any problems arise we look for ways to resolve it before the day’s out.”

  Elliot noticed something unusual that he’d never seen since the lights had gone out.

  “The light bulbs dangling throughout your camp. How—?”

  Mack answered before he was finished. “How are they operating when you don’t hear a generator?”

  He nodded, taking another bite of the meat. It was delicious.

  “Come, I’ll show you.”

  He led Elliot out and over to a ledge and used one of several ropes that were on pulleys connected to bags of sand to get down. As they held on to the rope, the bags went up. It was a good thirty-foot drop. When they made it to the bottom Mack led him over to an area that had been set up with multiple plants and began to explain.

  “Now I should make this clear from the get-go before you look at me like an insane man. Obviously we make use of solar panels, and wind energy to give us power.” He crouched down and pointed to the large selection of plants that were in trays of water. “However for smaller things, we’ve been exploring new ideas. A clever woman by the name of Lydia introduced us to this and all it relies on is sun, plants, soil and water.” He pointed at the plants. “These plants live on energy from the sun, right? Now through a process of photosynthesis the plant produces organic matter. I’m referring to carbon dioxide. Together with water it produces and releases oxygen.” He stopped and looked up at Elliot. “You still with me?”

  Elliot chuckled. “Somewhat. Keep going.”

  “Okay now because plants tend to produce too much, half of it ends up in the soil. From there bacteria breaks down the sugars, and electrons and protons are the byproduct. Now all we do is place a conductor into the soil and we are able to harness the electrons and produce a small amount of electricity that is more than enough to power several light bulbs. The only downside is if you were attempting this in an area where the soil was frozen it wouldn’t work. But not bad, eh?”

  Elliot nodded. “Huh. So how much electricity are we talking about?”

  “Not much. Don’t say anything but we are mainly doing it for Lydia’s sake. We didn’t want to shoot the idea down. We want everyone to feel as though they are contributing in some way. It gives people a sense of purpose. Anyway, to answer your question. On average around one square meter of something like this should be able to produce around 28 kilowatt hours per year. I know, not much. In fact to put that in perspective, if you had several thousand square feet you could probably power a home. However, we’re not looking to do that here.” He chuckled. “It would be impractical, besides we have solar and wind, and battery packs which store unused energy for most things we need including lighting. No, this is for smaller things like light bulbs daisy-chained together. It gives us a way to provide light for folks above at night without gas, fumes or any noise from your typical generators.” He rose to his feet. “It’s just one of many things that we’re testing to make life a little better for folks. It also prevents us from having to light torches and potentially burn down what we’ve created here.”

  “How long did it take you to build your base here? And who came up with the idea?”

  “A while. Maria and George had seen this created down in Costa Rica prior to the EMP. Apparently there is a whole sustainable tree house community down there. We figured we’d give it a try.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tin of small cigars and offered Elliot one. His eyes lit up.

  A plume of smoke billowed above them as he gave Elliot a tour of the place. “Building this place gave everyone something to be involved in, and being able to see threats coming before they see us has massive advantages. We’re planning on expanding.”

  “Then why bother with New Hope Springs?”

  “We have our reasons.”

  He shifted the topic away from that and pointed to different areas around the main base camp. “We have it sectioned off into zones for where we plant and grow herbs, vegetables, perennial plants and so forth. And of course we have folks in our community that thrive on this. They know the right times to plant, how to maintain it and when to harvest. Everything we do here at base camp is a joint effort.” He turned and looked up. In between the canopy of leaves, darkness stretched out with tiny pinpricks of light. The moon’s light filtered through, casting its silvery glow into areas of the camp. “As for water, we collect it from the streams and filter it.” He then pointed to ten large storage containers. “You’ll see them better in the morning as they’re concealed with camouflage netting and leaves. We also collect rainwater. As it stands we don’t want for much. We have food, water, social companionship, we create our own entertainment and we watch each other’s backs. It’s better and easier to live here in the forest than in any of the surrounding towns.”

  “Tell me about it. Our home was burned down, and many others were,” Elliot said before inhaling and blowing out smoke.

  “Well there is plenty of room here for you and your group. We could use folks like yourselves.”

  “I appreciate that but I would need to speak with the others.”

  “I understand. In the meantime, stay for as long as you like. While you are here you’re our guests.”

  He smiled and gazed up. “What are the lines between th
e trees?”

  “Zip lines. Lets us cover more ground, also was designed to offer escape in the event anyone manages to get through.”

  Elliot nodded. “So you’ve killed others?”

  “Only those that deserved it.” He looked back at Elliot. “You’re alive, right?”

  He patted Elliot on the back. “Come on, let’s go join the others. Oh I forgot to tell you. We even have a guy here who makes his own moonshine. Only one problem, it’s got one hell of a kick. You drink that, be prepared to wake up with a cracking headache the next day. But in the event that you do…”

  “You have something for that.”

  “You’re catching on,” he said with the cigar in the corner of his mouth. Smoke spiraled up into his eye as they returned.

  Chapter 4

  Elliot was shaken awake the next morning. It took him a few seconds to figure out where he was and who was looming over him. It was Mack.

  “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake the rest of your group but I need to show you something.”

  His throat was dry. He pawed at his eyes. “Now? What time is it?”

  “A little after six. Come on, we need to move quickly.”

  Through the open doorway he could see the faint glimmer of the sun peeking through the trees. He climbed out of his sleeping bag and yawned.

  He thumbed over his shoulder. “I really should let them know where I’m going.”

  “No need. Calvin has already been told. They’ll be fine. Come on. Oh and don’t forget your rifle.”

  He disappeared into the darkness of dawn, leaving only the sound of boots moving away. Elliot looked back at the others who were positioned in various spots inside the makeshift hut. He had to admit he slept a lot better that night than he had in the past week. Knowing there was a group patrolling the camp throughout the night gave him peace of mind. While they didn’t have beds so to speak, they did have cushions they’d gathered from homes. Someone had sewn them together. Others slept on blankets. Elliot exited the hut. The sound of insects and quiet conversation was all that could be heard. He spotted Mack farther along the wraparound boardwalk that looped around trees and huts. Between the trees were bridges held together by rope and thick vines. There were four other men waiting with Mack. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and followed them from one tree to the next until they slid down to the earth using their sandbag-weighted elevators. There were other ways of getting down like ladders and zip lines but this was far quicker.

  Mack handed him a cigarette and he lit it. They trudged for forty minutes before they arrived in an area within the Sabine National Forest. Mack pulled away branches. There, in a dense area, hidden below camouflaged netting was a 1978 Jeep Wagoneer.

  “It’s rarely used because we risk losing it every time we venture out but for what I want to show you, we need to get there fast.”

  “Where?”

  “Hemphill. It’s a small town not far from here but far enough that horses won’t cut it.”

  “You have horses?”

  “This is Texas,” he said with a grin before climbing in. “By the way this is Brent, Morgan, Ray and Tatum.” They all gave a nod. Everyone was dressed in military fatigues even though none of them had served. The Jeep rumbled out of the forest, bumping up and down over rocky areas as they veered off rough trails onto regular roads.

  As Ray drove, Mack filled Elliot in on what they were about to see.

  “Over the past week we noticed them doing runs into Hemphill. At first we just assumed they were scavenging, and bringing back large amounts of lumber and fencing, but then we saw them digging.”

  Elliot’s brow pinched. “Digging?”

  “Yeah, that was my thought exactly when one of our guys told me. It seems they have an arsenal of weapons buried.”

  “They were burying it?’

  “No, digging it up. They had rifles in tubes.”

  “It’s an old tactic used by preppers to prevent the government from taking their weapons if and when they ever invoked martial law. You’d get all types who would get paranoid if they saw headlines on the news about limiting our Second Amendment,” Tatum said. “Anyway it’s some kind of survival cache. It’s not just for firearms. Some folks will bury silver, gold, ammunition, cash, MREs, critical documents, fuel and even bug-out bags. It’s kind of smart really. Problem is unless they mark the spot they created or bury it in their backyard, they’ll have a hard time finding it.” He started laughing.

  Mack continued. “We figure they buried a whole stack of them and would haul them back to New Hope Springs when needed more but for one reason or another the markers must have blown away, got lost or they forgot where they were.”

  “How so?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They continued driving into the town of Hemphill. According to Mack it was a small community with a population of just over 1,200. It was located on State Highway 87 and the junction of Highway 184, and was one of the closest towns to the Sabine National Forest and the Toledo Bend Reservoir.

  Mack leaned forward and tapped Ray on the shoulder. “Stay off Main Street, hang a right on Smith then go right on Polke.”

  They passed by a tractor store and a large school before turning on to Polke which soon turned into dirt road. Every so many miles there was a farmhouse but it was mainly open fields, and woodland.

  “Where’s this lead?” Elliot asked.

  “To a small lake. People used to go down there, walk their dogs, fly kites, you know, family stuff.”

  “And they buried it in a high-traffic area?”

  “Oh no, off to the left it’s all open space and from what we’ve learned from Calvin who was brought here, it used to be a large farm until the place went into foreclosure and was sold at an auction. The buyer leveled the place with the hopes of building apartments. It never happened because of the EMP. So it remained untouched. We figure their group must have owned the property or used the area behind it. Either way, you’ll see in a second.”

  The Jeep passed the lake, the water glistened with the early morning sun, and a fine mist hovered over the top. There was no one in sight. At least no one crazy enough to be stomping around at this time of day. Ray drove the vehicle down a farmer’s trail. There were huge tire marks in the ground. As soon as they drove through a thicket of woods, Elliot could see it. It was like a mole had emerged from forty or fifty different places in the soil. Ray swerved the Jeep to a stop.

  “Alright let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “To get some of this stuff before they show up.”

  Elliot cast a glance over his shoulder as he got out of the Jeep. Ray, Brent, Morgan and Tatum took out shovels from the back and everyone jogged into the open space. Brent tossed Elliot a shovel.

  “Here, catch. Search for any areas that have a large stone with an orange drop of paint on it.”

  He started scanning the ground.

  “That’s how they marked it? You’d think they would have taken a few more precautions.”

  “Like I said, when they buried these there was a farmhouse and a barn here, and a lot more trees. It was private property. When it went into foreclosure and that company didn’t get around to building, we assume they came back and started digging and placing markers. We believe they did this before they entered New Hope Springs. Calvin was here on the day he escaped. He said they were collecting ammo.”

  Elliot noticed a stone. He lifted it and began digging.

  “So how did he get away?”

  “Fortunately they came under fire in the town. They spread out to take cover and Calvin saw his opportunity. They just think he’s dead.”

  “So you think your other friend who’s still in there just hasn’t had a chance to escape yet?”

  Mack shrugged. “No clue, but I know this stuff is like gold.”

  Elliot dug down until the shovel hit something hard. He got on his knees and pushed away the dry soil, scooping out handfuls until he saw the black PVC pipe.<
br />
  “Found one!”

  Mack started laughing. “Happy days!”

  It took them the better part of forty-five minutes to unearth several containers full of AR-15s, ammo, knives, ballistic vests. Of course Elliot had heard of people burying what they needed, he’d spent a great deal of time on preppers’ forums chatting with folks and getting their advice before he built his underground shelter, but this was quite different. They carried back the cache of gear and dumped it into the back of the Jeep. They must have come away with over twenty rifles, more than enough ammo and even some MREs. Once Elliot climbed in and they reversed out he said, “You know these guys are gonna be pissed.”

  “Without a doubt,” Mack replied. “But the way I see it. You snooze you lose. And anyway this is just the beginning.”

  “Of what?”

  “We’re taking that compound, we’re just going to do it a different way.”

  “By stealing their goods?”

  He gave a nod. “That’s a start.”

  “But you guys look as if you already have enough.”

  “You can never have enough, right?” He smiled. “Besides, we need a way to draw them out.”

  “Well this is going to do it. You’ve just kicked the hornets’ nest.”

  “Oh no, that wasn’t it.” He tapped Ray on the arm and motioned to the hard shoulder. He veered off and then reversed back into a side road that was hidden by dense forest. The Jeep idled.

  “What are you doing?”

  Mack glanced at his watch. “Seems our boys are running a little late today.”

  He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Elliot. His brow pinched glancing at the other four men before he took one. Ray twisted in his seat.

  “Well, guys, gear up.”

  Elliot watched as all four of them slipped into ballistic vests, and passed one another rifles. They palmed in magazines and then Tatum, Brent and Morgan pushed out.

  “Okay, Mack, where are they going?”

  “Just watch,” Mack said as he watched with a look of glee. There was something about this he didn’t like. Elliot took a hard drag on his cigarette. Ray revved the engine a few times while Brent rushed forward at a crouch to a patch of trees near the mouth of the road. He dropped to a knee and appeared to be the lookout. Mack turned. “You better buckle up.”