Uncertain Times: A Story of Survival

by Travis Wright

  After arriving in the now beat up subdivision near Soldotna Jim drove slowly to look at the destruction.

  Before long, they pulled into their cul-de-sac and groans could be heard emanating from the back seat. The family stepped out of the trucks and stood on their weed-ridden front lawn, staring at their house. It didn’t look the same. The fence had been torn down and the shed doors and siding were gone. Someone had torn the cedar siding from the front of the structure and the plastic house wrap is all that remained. Some of the windows were broken out and glass shards lay inside and out. They found the front door to the arctic entryway missing as well.

  “I guess people needed the wood to keep warm,” Mary said in a quavering voice.

  “I suppose so,” Jim said. “Come on, kids. Let’s see what’s inside, but be careful.”

  The family wandered inside the house, only to find it gutted. Carl ran around sniffing everything outside and marking his territory.

  “Looks like we will have to make do for now and rebuild when we can,” Jim told them.

  “This isn’t cool,” Todd said.

  “War isn’t cool,” Alexis said.

  “We’ll do what we always do and make it work with what we have,” Mary told them.

  Jim gave each member of the family a task to carry out and they started to fix the house into something they could live in.

  They worked the rest of the day securing the openings with whatever material they could find. After bringing in a few of their possessions from the truck and stacking them in what had once been the living room, Jim retrieved a couple of propane heaters from his truck to keep the chill off for the night. Mary and Alexis retrieved some Mountain House and a camp stove out so they could make dinner. They had their work cut out for them, but would have their home back to its former glory in no time.

  After the kids settled in sleeping bags for the night, Jim walked into the kitchen and opened up the pantry. The hidden entrance to the gun room remained intact. He opened it slowly and secured the door. After turning on the under barrel light, on the rail of his .45, he walked down the stairs brushing spider webs out of the way. The room had been untouched, but would have to be aired out and a dehumidifier would need to be brought back in once they had electricity again. The dampness now filling his nose would start rusting any metal introduced into the room practically overnight. The guns and ammo would stay in one of the rooms upstairs until the humidity level could be brought down considerably.

  The Stanton’s weren’t the only family who had to rebuild in the community. Some houses had been burned down and would need to be completely rebuilt. Most of the people in the local area congregated and worked on one house at a time. Tents were erected for the most unfortunate families until their houses were rebuilt. Progress proved to be slow because of a lack of wood and other supplies needed. The houses around them which no one had reclaimed or were in bad shape were torn down, and the materials were used on others.

  The electricity wasn’t working in the majority of areas, but crews were addressing the issue with limited resources in the extended daylight hours this time of year. The fighting had taken its toll on a large amount of the city and surrounding areas.

  Within a few weeks, a contingent of U.S. Army soldiers came to help. They brought most of the hospital back up to working order and provided supplies the community sorely needed. Food started to show up in the grocery stores and people started to get back to work. Most people were assigned to maintenance and construction jobs. The banks in the area found having any money left in their vaults started the local monetary system working again by providing cash loans to people.

  An organization called America’s Future showed up in town one day in late May. They said they were sent by the new interim government of America. People had to register with the new government in order to be eligible for programs such as debt forgiveness, healthcare and food assistance.

  The mandatory registration turned out to be a new form of census; because of the large amount of people who had been killed, displaced or simply disappeared. In the chaos, databases had been destroyed leaving virtually no trace of anyone in the country. This turned out to be a way for the new government to control the people and resistance began to rise again, across the entire nation.

  When a local curfew had been initiated by the Army, tensions escalated. Signs had been posted on buildings and roads detailing the order.

  Jim and some of the others made their way over to the local commander to inquire about the curfew. Before Jim could enter the gated compound, the soldiers told him to relinquish his sidearm and he would have to wait once inside. A soldier took Jim’s name and wrote it on a paper attached to a clipboard. Jim didn’t like the fact he had to give them his 1911 and told the soldier he wanted it back when he left. He waited for about three hours. When he could finally see the commander, Jim wasn’t in a good mood.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Jim demanded angrily. “And why did I have to give you my .45?”

  “Easy there, soldier,” said the Army officer.

  “I’m no soldier,” Jim said. “I’m a United States Marine and I demand to know why we have a curfew suddenly and why we have to ration food again. I thought supplies were flowing in perfectly fine?”

  “I have to tell you, Jim,” the Colonel started as he poured a glass of bourbon and offered one to Jim, which he declined. “This sector has it much better than the largely populated ones. I would really hate to be a civilian in the Lower 48 right now.”

  “What do you mean?” Jim asked. “I thought we were on a fast track to recovery?”

  “Yes and no and not necessarily at the pace you and everyone else would like. The war turned the world upside down not too long ago and needs to be reset. We’re currently in the process of doing it.”

  “So, why the curfew?”

  “We’ve had reports of looting and in some cases, rape and murder. We’re not only here in a support roll, but we’re tasked with the security of this community until it gets better and a regular police force can be established,” the colonel said. “The use of force will be a last resort. The confiscation of firearms will be the first order of business, starting tomorrow morning.”

  Jim couldn’t believe his ears. He thanked the colonel for his time and left without making a fuss about his .45.

  On his way home, Jim stopped by Matt’s place and told him about his encounter. They set up a plan to gather the militia discreetly. Something needed to be done about this new occupation before it became any worse. Both men set out to find the people who they had lived and fought with for nearly two years.

  The 30 men and women who Jim and Matt were able to assemble met together in an old barn close to their homes.

  “Listen up,” Matt began. “I need you to know what’s going to be said here, needs to remain confidential and should not leave this building for any reason. Our lives and those of our family’s, could depend on it.”

  “So what is this I hear about the Army confiscating weapons?” Rick asked as the people gathered.

  “The new Army commander told me this a few hours ago,” Jim said. “We’ve fought too hard and lost too much to be tossed from one occupation force to the next. Who’s with me?”

  Most of them agreed something needed to be done, but as usual, there were a couple of people who wanted to find alternate resolutions or didn’t want to get involved.

  “Listen, I’m not suggesting we simply start killing them. We need to show them we won’t back down. A show of force so they know we’re serious,” Jim explained. “They’re also Americans, but as military men, they follow the orders they’re given, even if they don’t agree with them.”

  “We need a plan,” said Matt as he watched a few people leave. “Jim’s right, American soldiers or not, we’re not going to let them dictate our lives.”

  They sat around on bales of hay to figure out what to do.

  “How many troops do we have here in town?” Jim ask
ed.

  “My wife says about 40,” said a man in the back. “She works for the medics down at the hospital and they like to talk.”

  “OK, what kinds of weapons do they have?” asked Rick.

  “I’ve seen SAWs and .50 cals mounted on the Humvees and the soldiers have standard issue M4s,” Matt said.

  “Alright,” Jim said, “We need to take out the roving patrols with non-lethal force and roll into the Army compound to show the colonel we mean business.”

  The construction of the houses took place by day. By night, they continued to meet and plan their next steps. Discreet recon took place by a select few, so they didn’t rouse suspicion.

  Within two days, members of the militia had pinned down the patrol routes of the Army troops and were ready to initiate operation Home Front.

  One calm, cool, early June morning, the Army patrols were simultaneously stopped with mocked-up accidents on the road. As the soldiers stepped out to assist what they thought were injured people, they were surrounded by militia. The surprised soldiers quickly gave up and were gagged and bound before being taken away with black hoods covering their heads.

  The militia members, who were in contact by two-way radios, jumped in the Hummers and made their way to the compound to show the colonel what he could expect from the local populace if he continued down the road he had chosen.

  Four Humvees rolled up to the gate of the old high school which had been turned into a FOB for the Army. Jim fired off a burst from the .50 cal on top of the Humvee he rode in. This immediately had the Army’s attention and the soldiers at the gate and surrounding area, pointed their weapons at them and started yelling.

  “Tell the colonel we want to talk to him!” Jim yelled.

  An Army captain approached the Humvees and demanded to know what they were doing.

  “We’re United States citizens and demand to be treated with dignity and respect. If it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t have the opportunity to be here right now. We’ve spilled too much blood and lost too many loved ones to be treated like second-class citizens in our own town. We want common ground and it needs to happen today,” Jim demanded.

  The furious colonel came out of the command trailer. “Who the hell do you think you people are?” he yelled from the other side of the fence.

  “We are the Alaska Militia and this is free America!”

  “We’re here to offer our assistance in rebuilding our own community,” Rick said. “If you want to establish a new police force, then you need to let us help.”

  “Like hell I do!” the colonel said.

  “Soldiers, take these weapons and vehicles from these men and place them under arrest.”

  The soldiers moved in and Jim fired another burst into the air.

  “Stop now or you will be fired on!” Jim yelled.

  The soldiers looked back at their commander, waiting for his orders.

  “We’ve been fighting for our very existence in this area for almost two years and killing has become second nature to us. Right now you’re not any different than the enemy we’ve been fighting. Put your weapons on the ground slowly and step back,” Jim ordered the young men on the other side of the fence.

  The soldiers did as they were told. Most of them looked like kids, not combat veterans.

  While being covered by his comrades, Jim stepped out of the Hummer he rode in, opened the gate and walked up to the colonel.

  “I’ll be taking my 1911 back now.” Jim said as he took it out of the colonel’s holster. “We need a mediator and I have the perfect one in mind. Colonel, this is Major McGee of First Force Recon United States Marine Corps.”

  Major McGee stepped out of a Humvee and walked up to the men.

  “I will not be taking any orders from a major,” the colonel said.

  “I’m not here to make demands, Colonel. I’ve been asked to come here on behalf of the people of this wonderful community. I wouldn’t be standing here today if it wasn’t for the gallantry of these very fine men and women. I fought beside them when they had no hope and were outnumbered by the enemy. They stood up and fought beside us. Countless times they were triumphant in the face of certain death. I really believe you should listen to what they have to say and take them up on their offer to assist you. They’ve lived here for a long time and know each other well. They can and will want to help as long as you let them. Trust me when I say, the alternative isn’t something you want to have firsthand knowledge of.”

  “I will not relinquish my weapons for any comfort you can offer,” Jim said. “I will however, use my weapons to help police this community and bring to justice anyone who threatens its harmony. We’re patriots, and several of us were prior military. We were uprooted by an enemy who would have rather seen us departed from this earth. I once owned a gun store. Most of the rest of us were cops and corrections officers. We can help you if you will listen and let us.”

  “I have my orders,” the colonel said. “I can’t disobey them.”

  “But you can question them and offer our assistance to your commanders. We do live here,” Matt said.

  “We know the area and the people,” Jim said. “We will not sit by and let your men do as they want without consequence. Get your commander on the line and let him know we want to help. You don’t want the alternative. We’re tired of fighting, but will continue if we’re threatened.”

  Reluctantly, the colonel made the call. After a few minutes of what appeared to be arguing, he set the radio handset down and told Jim they were welcome to help.

  “Now, where do you have my men?” the colonel asked.

  “Bring them into the compound boys,” Jim said over his radio. A school bus rolled in behind them and the soldiers stepped off. The militia brought in bags full of gun parts, ammo and gear. They dumped it onto the ground for them to pick up.

  “We’ll be back tomorrow,” Matt said.

  The men thanked Major McGee and made their way back home. The next day, the men who needed work and were qualified for law enforcement would show up to receive their duties from a handful of Military Policemen.

  “Things do not happen. Things are made to happen.”

  —John F. Kennedy

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “I don’t know if I can do this, Mary,” Jim said.

  “I know you can. You’re the strongest man I know and will do fine, great in fact.” She straightened his tie for him.

  Jim had been appointed sheriff by the local interim government and would be in charge of six officers. He and the others were chosen based on recommendations. The fact most of them had commanded men in battle had been a clincher.

  “I’ve always owned my own business. I’ve always disliked ‘the man,’ and now, I am ‘the man’.”

  “You’ll do great. Now get to work and bring mama home some money!” Mary laughed, trying to keep Jim’s spirits up.

  “OK, I suppose I did bring this on myself,” he relented.

  “You were chosen for a reason. Men followed you into battle and trusted you with their lives. This will be no different, except hopefully you won’t be shot at as much,” Mary said, still smiling.

  He hugged her and thanked her for her support.

  Jim walked out back onto the new deck they had recently installed. The old one was gone when they made it back home. Carl came running over with a little, red ball in his mouth and circled Jim a few times before resting it at his feet.

  “You’re happy to be back home boy aren’t you boy?” Jim asked him.

  Carl sat up and let out a few low barks and growls. Jim rubbed Carl’s ears before picking the ball up and tossing it into the air. Carl ran after the toy, saw it bounce once and caught it.

  “Is dad OK,” Alexis asked Mary.

  “He will be, sweetie. We have to be patient with him. The last couple of years were hard on each of us, but your dad won’t ever be the same man he was.”

  Jim walked back inside the house and said goodbye to Mary and the kids. He
stepped into his newly painted patrol car and headed to the station. Most of the local law enforcement had been killed by the invading NWA. The city had to start from scratch in a large amount of aspects of the community. One man on the newly formed police force had been an officer before from a neighboring town and didn’t have much of a need for law enforcement yet. He would be Jim’s right-hand man for now.

  “Lance, do you have the roster?” asked Jim as he walked into the briefing room.

  “Right here, sheriff.”

  “OK. Let’s see... um... Smith?”

  “Here.”

  “Davis?”

  “Here.”

  “Perry?”

  “Here.”

  “Daniels?”

  “Here.”

  “And Green?”

  “Here, sir.”

  “Men, we’re the new line of defense for the local population and we will be helpful, courteous and uphold the law. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir!” The men responded in unison.

  “Construction crews have been working around the clock to get the power grid stabilized and roads repaired. You’ll make sure no one bothers them. There have been numerous reports of attacks on these crews by roving gangs of kids. None of these kids have been caught at this point, but they’re believed to be simply trying to survive. The rules of engagement are only fire if you’ve been fired upon. We would like to take some of them into custody and find out where they’ve been holed up, so we can help them. There’s no reason for them to be living on the streets. Any questions?”

  No one spoke up, so Jim continued and wrapped up about 15 minutes later.

  “You have your orders, now go out there and show the people they can rely on us. And remember the military is there to help only as a last resort. We need to do this on our own. We have not fully recovered, so I want you to be extremely cautious. These people happen to be our neighbors, but they’ve had it hard and still might resort to violence to get what they want because it’s what they’ve been accustomed to. You need to reassure them you’re there to help and call for back up at the slightest sense of problems.”