Ash: Rise of the Republic

by Campbell Paul Young

  The Captain relinquished the podium, and the Colonel gave his closing remarks.

  "Thank you Captain. Needless to say, we need to move on this as soon as we can. I need each of you to return to your companies and speed up training however you can. Rely on the older volunteers to help with the younger ones. They might not be trained soldiers but if they've lived for long they're not incompetent. I want them ready for inspection in two days. By tomorrow I want a detailed supply and equipment request for each company. We move out in a week people, we'll have a final briefing before we deploy. You're dismissed."

  After the officers had shuffled out, the Captain beckoned at his troop to take the front row.

  "The rangers are going to be to be taking on the brunt of the scouting work. These garrison troops aren’t good for much more than looking pretty. Since you’ll be up close and personal it’s important that you know what you're up against. You need to hear the rest of Werner's story. We never did find him after he killed our people that morning, but he did find us..."

  Chapter 5

  August, 0 PC (2015 AD)

  *

  “Overall, religion played a positive role amongst the survivors, but there were a number of sects which took advantage of the disaster. Evangelical Christians were particularly dangerous to the fragile remnants of civilization. They believed the rapture had come…”

  -Colleen Greenheld , ‘Survivors In The Dust”; RNT University Press, 39 PC (2054 AD);

  *

  A month after the ash started falling, the lights finally went out. We woke up one morning to blank clocks and silent refrigerators. It was not unexpected, we had been preparing for it since the beginning. Freezers were quickly emptied and all the frozen meat in the neighborhood was strung up in the new smokehouse or cooked on propane stoves. Canned food was set aside so that we could eat everything that might spoil.

  We weren't too concerned about the food. It had been a productive month. The group in charge of food production had taken over one of the vacant houses and nicknamed it ‘the farm’. Its empty rooms were quickly filled with their projects.

  A large inflatable pool was set up in the living room and a group of neighborhood kids had been put to work with fishing poles and cast nets around the small communal pond in the center of the subdivision. They had stocked the small pool with dozens of catfish, bass, and crappie.

  A dozen skinny chickens and a rooster had been found scratching in futility at the ash on an abandoned farm nearby. One of the bedrooms was set up as a coop for them. The children took turns gathering their eggs each morning.

  Eight pigs were housed in the garage. Every night, the families brought their scraps and poured them in a makeshift trough. We were excited for bacon and chops, but they were scrawny when we found them, we were forced to let them fatten for a few weeks.

  Two had also been found in a nearby pasture. These we initially kept under the large covered back porch of ‘the farm’, hoping for fresh milk. After a week of scouring the area for clean bales of hay to feed them, we decided we would rather have fresh beef.

  Our main worry was water. Without electricity, the pumps on the municipal wells wouldn't run. Knowing it was only a matter of time before our faucets ran dry, everyone filled their bathtubs and sinks to the brim. Every empty container in the neighborhood was filled and stored with the supplies in the meeting house. The crew in charge of digging the well had made progress, but they had yet to pull more than a few buckets of muddy water from their hole. The small pond was an option, but we were worried that the ash had tainted it. Soon after the children had stocked the pool in ‘the farm’, the remaining fish had begun floating to the surface, belly up. We decided we would use the questionable water source only as a last resort.

  As we hurried around cooking meat and filling bottles, we heard the alarm from the central guard post. The four of us who were on duty as the quick response team rushed to investigate. The sentry on the roof beckoned me up, waving his binoculars. From his vantage point, I could see a figure stumbling across the pasture on the other side of the thicket behind my house. I ordered all the guard posts manned and led my well-armed team to intercept the intruder.

  By the time the four of us filtered through the twisted yaupons at the edge of the pasture, the figure had fallen forward. He lay in the ash, face down. We approached cautiously. He groaned softly as we gently turned him over. It took me a moment to see past the grime and blood on his face, but his torn uniform sparked recognition. I shook the exhausted man by the shoulder until he opened his eyes.

  "If you're here, who's guarding the power plant?" I asked the security guard.

  "They're all dead," he said with a frenzied wheeze, "Those fuckers came in force, took the fence out with a truck. They were all over us before we could respond. Must have been fifty of them.” He paused for a deep, rattling cough. “They weren't lookin’ for food either. They just killed everybody and tore the place up. I got a few of them but there was too many.” His eyes darted between our faces. “I jumped in the lake to get away. I swam all the way across. I was hoping I could find your place, wanted to warn you." The cough wracked his body again. "I hope you're ready for 'em, they'll damn sure be here soon.”

  We helped him up and rushed him up the hill to the vet, hoping she could do something for him. As we walked, his arm draped over my shoulder, I realized, "Hey I never caught your name, boss."

  "Beal, Andy Beal. Glad to meet you."

  ****

  While the vet was patching up the shaken security guard, I sent word around for everyone to drop what they were doing, arm themselves, and report to the meeting house. We decided to increase security immediately. Except a few kids who would be in charge of running the smokehouse and feeding the livestock, every man, woman, and child strong enough to pull a trigger was sent to a guardpost. Pickets with flare guns were set a few hundred yards away on each of the main roads. Their instructions were to launch their flares and retreat to the perimeter the second they saw anyone coming up the road. We split into two twelve hour watches to keep the maximum number of eyes open at any given time. Even counting kids, we were less than sixty strong. If Beal’s estimate on the enemy strength was accurate, we would be in for a close fight.

  The flare came sooner than we expected. Early in the evening the following day those of us in the central guard post heard the whoosh and watched with sudden dread as the bright spot of magnesium flame began floating slowly back to earth. In a rush of adrenaline, I trained my binoculars down the highway with shaking hands. A line of trucks was moving slowly through the trench we had cleared a few weeks before. I recognized the lead vehicle immediately: my red Toyota. A man was standing in the bed waving a white bath towel tied to a mop handle over his head. I asked the sentry behind me to sound the alarm.

  The entire neighborhood turned out at the signal, crowding onto rooftops to watch the procession slowly roll down the highway past the street we had blocked with the semi-trailer. There were twelve pickup trucks, five or six armed men in each. Their faces were grim as they stared my neighbors down. I left my perch and calmly walked to the gate to meet them. Deb, Mike, and several others moved to join me but I gestured for them to wait behind the gate. I walked a few paces forward and stood with my weapon ready, my finger near the trigger.

  My former truck, much worse for wear and coated with grime and ash, slowed to a stop at my signal. The driver’s side passenger door opened and a thin, balding man in a dirty business suit stepped out. He held a wide grin on his face and a thick book in his left hand. Stepping briskly toward me, he extended his right in greeting.

  “God bless you sir, my name is Nathaniel. Reverend Nathaniel Jerrick. I stopped in to ask if you have a moment to talk about the Lord,” His booming voice seemed designed to carry to everyone present.

  “Well that depends: did your crew disable the power plant down and murder all those people last night?” I replied, ignoring the proffered hand, keeping my own close to my weapon. />
  “Well of course we tore down the abomination, that is our mandate, but it isn’t murder to exterminate the vermin who worshiped in its halls.” His reply was jovial, he turned to look at the men in the trucks. Some of them chuckled.

  “Mandate?” I growled. I could hear angry muttering behind me.

  ”Direct from the Lord, our god. As you know very well, the Rapture has come and passed. I was initially saddened to find myself left here with the sinners, but it turned out that God had a plan for me. You see, He is going to build the Kingdom here on earth, but before He does that, the planet must be cleansed of the corruption of man. He sent one of his angels to command me to gather a congregation of the damned to carry out His Will. Every soul who repents and assists me in carrying out my Holy Instructions shall be forgiven and ascend to Heaven with me when our work is complete. These fine men,” he swept an arm toward the line of trucks, “have all confessed their sins and enlisted in the project. We call ourselves the Redeemed Fellowship for the Transition. “Tell me, brother, do you and your fellow Christians seek eternal salvation?”

  “I think you should go,” I responded through clenched teeth, knuckles white on the stock of my rifle. “This isn’t the rapture, it’s geology. A fucking volcano erupted. You crazy son of a bitch, you can’t go around slaughtering people and tearing up our infrastructure because you’ve been off your meds for too long!”

  “Non-believers have frequently blamed divine revelation on mental illness. I can assure you that is not the issue here. My mandate is very real. I’d love to sit down with you and take you through the facts.” His smile began to fade.

  “There are dozens of religious people standing behind me, not one of them has started killing sinners or hallucinating angels. They know this is a natural disaster. They’ve been doing the Christian thing and helping their neighbors. We don’t want any trouble, but don’t take that as a sign of weakness. If you threaten us believe me we won’t hesitate to sweep you off our porch. Please just go.”

  “Brother, you don’t seem to understand. Your houses represent the corruption of man. I am bound by my Mandate to destroy them, brick by brick. I am merely offering you a chance to join us and guarantee yourselves an eternity in paradise.” His jovial tone was gone now. His voice was still loud, but there was a grim tremor in it.

  “Well shit, if you put it like that…” I gave him a sudden smile, my turn to be jovial. “Maybe we could work something out. Can you give us a couple days to talk things out amongst ourselves?”

  “Of course, Brother! Nothing would give me more pleasure. I know you’ll make the right decision. The reward is too great to pass up! We shall return in two days time.” He said, cheerful again. He turned to go. When he opened the door to the truck, I saw a familiar face sitting behind the passenger seat.

  “Reverend, wait!” I called out suddenly.

  He turned back with knowing smile. “Have you chosen the right path so quickly Brother?”

  “Not a chance.” I pointed at the small figure behind him. “That little brat in the backseat is a murderer and a thief. He needs to answer for his crimes. For that matter, one of the things he stole was the very truck you’re riding in. Justice needs to be served if you want us to join us. The little shit killed four innocent people in cold blood.”

  “You can see him too?” His mouth was hanging open in shock. The boy leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Ah I see, the Angel has shown his form to you so that you might more easily repent and join our cause. You are mistaken sir. This boy is the physical manifestation of the Archangel Zadkiel. It is he who appeared to me, bringing gifts of food and transportation from heaven. With his help I have recruited my fellowship. The so called ‘crimes’ you accuse him of were all part of God’s intricate plan. The souls of those sacrificed sing with the Heavenly Hosts now. I bid you farewell. God be with you Brother, may he guide you to the path of the righteous.”

  With that he slammed the door of the truck and the column rolled away, slowly disappearing around a bend.

  I spun around in fury and marched straight through the gate. I gestured at those who had gathered there to follow me.

  “Everyone to the Meeting House as soon as possible. Leave a few sentries, we can fill them in later.” I said as I passed them.

  Once my neighbors had settled in to the ranks of chairs we had arranged in the living room, I called the meeting to order.

  Mike perked up first, “You’re not actually considering joining them are you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, I just wanted to buy some time. He looked like he was ready to give the order to attack right then and there. But while we’re on the subject, we need to get something clear right now: I need to know if anyone is harboring any doubts about this. If you didn’t overhear our conversation, I’ll give you the gist: This psycho thinks he was left behind after the rapture to clean up the earth so that god can build a new kingdom or something. He’s offering salvation to anyone who joins him. Now you know I’m not religious, but many of you are. I won’t think less of you if you feel like he may be a genuine prophet. If you have any doubt at all please feel free to join him. I promise there will be no hard feelings. He’ll be back in two days. If anyone wants to leave let us know now.” In the crowd, people gazed right and left, but no one volunteered.

  “Good. Glad to see we’re all going to be rational about this. Let’s talk strategy…”

  After an hour we had a plan. We would resist, of course, but we would also be ready for defeat. The construction group would begin strengthening our defenses immediately. Our perimeter was too large and our force too small to physically defend every point, so we decided to build fighting platforms on the roofs of several strategically placed houses. When the attack came, the younger children would stay in the meeting house under guard of the two senior citizens in the neighborhood. The vet and two assistants would be stationed there too in a makeshift field hospital that was set up in the master bedroom. Casualties would be brought to them as they occurred. Every other able-bodied neighbor was assigned a spot on one of the fighting platforms.

  There were two golf carts in the neighborhood, once used for joyrides on drunken nights in happier times, which we would employ to shift fighters quickly to where they were needed. The guard post at the gate was left unmanned and a number of vehicles were parked behind across the road to keep the Fellowship from bashing through like they had at the power plant.

  A number of glass bottles were put into service for use as incendiaries. A quantity of our precious gasoline was siphoned from a few of the vehicles to fill them, and several old towels were cut up as fuses. Each fighting platform which faced a road was supplied with five of these.

  We also laid plans for an escape. We loaded up fifteen of the more capable vehicles in the neighborhood with supplies, ammunition, and personal belongings. The majority of the food and water was loaded into the big box truck we had taken the first night. We had enough fuel to get twenty miles with the dozer, though most of the vehicles would make it much farther if the terrain was right. Our plan was to head down the highway leading to town, plowing the ash in front of us. To that end, I had Scott Maldridge clear a path through the yaupon thicket behind my house. If we needed to leave, it would only be a short ride across the pasture before we reached the highway.

  We left the dozer at the edge of the woods to plug the gap. Two of the retreat vehicles were stationed near the meeting house, the rest were lined up on the street near the escape route, keys in the ignition. We set up a signal for the retreat. If the battle went their way, several of us would stay at our posts while the rest got the children to the convoy. We would join them if we could once they were safe. If the enemy followed us, we would have to fight a fierce rearguard action, but we hoped that the narrow confines of the trench cut by the dozer would keep their attacks concentrated.

  Our preparations were finished by the next afternoon. The sentries reported no sign of Fellowship trucks on the roads. Several of
us decided that, since it might be our last night in our peaceful little neighborhood, we would break out a few of our precious cases of beer and have an old fashioned block party.

  While the older neighborhood children kept watch from the new fighting platforms, we settled into lawn chairs in the street in front of the meeting house. By midnight, most of the neighborhood was reeling drunk, laughing and enjoying themselves.

  ****

  I woke up with a start the next morning. It took a moment to identify my surroundings. Soft morning light was filtering through the blinds. The last thing I remembered was a golf cart race around the block. Cursing our stupidity at wasting batteries, and cursing alcohol in general, I creaked out of bed and stumbled to the coffee pot before remembering our lack of electricity. With a sour stomach and a pounding head, I went in search of Deb and breakfast.

  I found both at the meeting house. Several kind neighbors had taken it upon themselves to scramble a huge mess of eggs over a propane stove in the garage. With muttered gratitude, I spooned a healthy portion into a bowl that Deb handed me. I was soon joined by a few of my drinking partners. I had flashes of some of them holding on for dear life to the competing golf cart as we careened around the circle the night before. We grinned sheepishly at each other as we downed the greasy eggs, heads beginning to clear.

  By noon, we were ready. Everyone was thoroughly armed. Ammunition was piled in the fighting platforms. My neighbors took their assigned stations. I climbed up to the central guard post to wait. The two kids stationed there were the youngest of our fighters. They were both armed with small varmint rifles.