Surviving The Black (Book 4): Betrayal From Within

by Finley, Zack

  I decided she was right.

  PT was early and well attended. I pulled the Betas and Gammas aside to alert them about our plans to deal with the insurrection. Grady's men went to breakfast while my teams talked, except for Grady. He stuck with me. I considered ordering him to leave, but there didn't seem any reason. With no connections to the disgruntled group, he was unlikely to telegraph our upcoming action.

  I underestimated the grapevine; the only surprised person I briefed was Grady. Everyone else understood and supported the planned operation. Stupid was the least offensive descriptor expressed for the malcontents.

  Grady wanted to talk with me about the situation, but I told him to wait until we left for Justice.

  Breakfast was oatmeal and an egg. For variety, we could have our egg scrambled or boiled. The new option created a whole new line of speculation about whether those eating scrambled eggs got more or less food value.

  I took the boiled egg for a little diversity. The shell went into the compost container.

  We rode in four pickups to Justice. Joel told me these were the proposed replacements for the trucks we abandoned in Hickman, Kentucky. Two looked beat up, and two appeared nearly brand new. All were either black or dark gray with wide splashes of purple paint on the front, sides, and tailgate. Overseas terrorists favored this type of pickup. Sturdy, nimble, with good gas mileage and a short turning radius.

  Grady shadowed me again, today.

  Matt had already briefed his team and put the reinforcements I brought to work on the security punch list. Mandy learned the plan via phone last night and provided Matt with an overview before we arrived. Joel and one of Steve's technicians disappeared into Justice carrying the rebroadcast unit, chatting away in technese. I followed them into the radio room.

  "Could you notify Jerry Hill that I'd like to come out for a visit?" I asked one of Sally's protégés, who ran the Justice radio operation.

  I looked around the room with surprise. The last time I visited, the room mostly contained radios. Now it looked more like a computer room, with computers and monitors stuck all over the now crowded room.

  It only took the radio operator a few moments to dial in the required frequency. And another five minutes to receive a taciturn response from Hill. Not a welcome, but not a rejection either.

  I thanked the radioman for his help and left. I waved over my two Gammas, and we crawled into one a pickup.

  "Jeremy and company leaving for a visit with Jerry Hill," I radioed. Someone from Justice acknowledged, and we pulled out in one of our newer vehicles. Both of the Gammas sat in the back seat. Grady rode shotgun.

  "I don't want to spook Jerry's people, so I'll need you to remain in the truck and keep your rifles out of sight. If I give you the signal or if I stay longer than an hour without radioing, leave the area. If I use Bob in any message, I'm being held against my will."

  "Yes, sir," chorused from the back. Grady nodded.

  Jerry Hill owned an extensive sprawling business in the hills on the north side of Huntsville. Before the crash, the factory built new semi-trailers. The facility occupied much of a reclaimed strip coal mine. My dad believed Jerry was an elder in the Mormon church, but that had never been confirmed, at least not officially.

  An unknown number of people now lived with Jerry in his huge manufacturing complex. With a massive solar system on the roof and several wood stoves, the site could house hundreds of people. All it lacked was good dirt to grow crops on. I always wondered whether Hill would have ousted the deputies from the Justice Center if we hadn't acted first. The ex-deputies visited him several times, attempting to extort supplies. Jerry treated them as more of an annoyance than any real threat.

  From our last meeting, he suggested we contact the Mormon population in the area around Winona. Valley leadership wanted a mutual defense pact and a trading relationship with the Mormons as a group. Before the crash, my dad got either an instant rejection or tepid response to any suggestions they work with us.

  The chill eased a little when Steve installed multiple solar systems to church members at barely above cost. We helped disguise half the installations to look like normal roofing at their request. It represented a significant warming in the relationship between our two groups. Then came the crash.

  We knew where they lived, and they knew we knew. Steve said they feared the decision to install solar brought too much attention to their homes. While they appeared confident that we didn't intend to harm them, they showed no interest in closer ties, either.

  The Mecklin Defenders distributed hundreds of recruitment messages throughout this part of the county. None of the Mormons joined our alert network. Roger and my dad both hoped that would change this spring.

  Mandy wanted someone to act as the Mormon community liaison with us, including participating in the daily broadcasts and suspicious activity alerts.

  I last visited Jerry soon after we took over at Justice.

  The security on his road into the complex improved significantly since my last visit. Parked trailers and other vehicles blocked the entire driveway. The forest anchored each end of the roadblock. If they didn't open up, approaching on foot was my only option.

  As we neared the obstruction, one SUV drove toward us, and a second, parked behind the first, drove into the sprawling manufacturing complex. This cleared a single lane for us to squeeze through to reach the compound. The blackened SUV windows made it impossible to see who or what was in those vehicles. A cherry picker held a metal gate aloft just inside the opening. I got the message, no one drove in here uninvited.

  I certainly wouldn't attack this place from the driveway. I would either come in via the electric power line right of way or from the north through the woods. Blocking the entrance was still an important security step. It made it tougher to arrive with enough manpower to overwhelm the facility. I still had no idea how many people now lived there. Or their firepower.

  I pulled the pickup to the same door where Jerry greeted me the last time I came. I angled the truck to make an easier getaway. I warned Grady and my team not to attempt running back through the gauntlet but to veer off at the power lines. Even if they couldn't make it the whole way driving on the right-of-way, they could disappear into the wooded areas on either side.

  While I didn't expect any trouble, I wanted my Gammas to think about these things. I got out of the truck and leaned against it. One of the Gammas slid into the driver’s seat while I waited.

  I only stood there a few minutes before the nearby people-door opened. Jerry Hill stepped outside, and it shut behind him.

  "Hi, Jerry," I said.

  "Hi, Jeremy," he said. "What brings you to my place?"

  "Our security projects are wrapping up at the Justice Center, and we are getting ready to expand operations there," I said.

  "What does that have to do with me?" Jerry asked.

  Jerry's attitude started off confrontational for no reason I could fathom. Last time we spoke, things were cordial, or at least not antagonistic.

  "My people wanted to apprise you of happenings in Huntsville," I said. "We are distributing a chick to anyone taking part in our radio network. I hoped you would let your community know they are welcome to join the network. If they need a solar-powered radio, we can provide one. The only thing we ask is for someone in the group to tune in every day at noon, and to contact the justice center if they spot strangers roaming around."

  "What is in it for us?" Jerry asked.

  "We promise to provide assistance if someone attacks any member of the network. You radio us, and we mount up to respond," I said.

  "What happens if it's you who does the attacking?" Jerry said, dropping all hint of civility.

  I stared at him, stunned at the accusation. "We kill people who threaten us, plus murderers, rapists, and their ilk when we encounter them. But all of us have full-time jobs on our properties, no one is out assaulting innocent residents."

  "Someone attacked and murdered two families we
know in Winona. When we checked on them, we found their homes looted, and everyone who lived there was dead. One murdered family was my aunt, uncle, and six cousins. My youngest cousin was five years old," Jerry spit out. "They even removed your solar gear."

  "I am sorry for your loss, but what have we done to suggest anyone from Breckinridge Valley would condone or take part in such a heinous act?" I asked. "You know, or you should by now, that we have enough reserves, we don't need to kill a family to get more of anything."

  "Your men are out scavenging all over the county," Jerry said. We were back to a cold and mechanical tone, the glint of rage hidden.

  "We are. If someone lives there, we talk with them, or if the resident is shy, we leave a contact sheet. If unoccupied, we may salvage it or will most likely document it for the future. That is a far cry from murdering a family. And kids." I said, sputtering with outrage, but trying to maintain some semblance of civility. I needed to learn more about these murderers before they struck closer to home.

  "What do you do with the salvage?" Jerry asked.

  "Most of what we are salvaging now is short term survival goods. That goes to Justice as community supplies. We remove more long-term salvage, like building materials to the Valley. We don't need that stuff now, but don't want it to ruin, either."

  "What do you mean community supplies?" Jerry asked.

  "The sheriff's deputies, before they went off the rails, transferred inventory from local stores into the justice center. We are still working on the best way to distribute these supplies to the community. It's a work-in-progress. Medical supplies are different; we treat anyone who shows up," I said. "We provide some basic materials when people join our network. Some people were well prepared, for them, we might provide consumables like bleach or soap. Others need basic tools like axes, bow-saws, or shovels. Lately, we are assessing their needs for spring planting." I trailed off, having said too much.

  "No food?" Jerry asked.

  "The sheriff's boys ate everything edible they gathered," I said. "No community food stores were left when we took over at justice."

  "Didn't you get a lot of food from the Oneida Walmart?"

  "We left all that food with the fire department to distribute up there," I said.

  I was pissed at Jerry's attitude. He and I were strangers, but he knew my dad and Roger. He also knew all about the sheriff.

  After a few deep breaths, I began thinking with my brain, not my emotions. From Jerry's point of view, it might not take much to conclude we were the new Lloyd Mountain Militia. I knew we were different, but how would someone else recognize that? Even people we offered sanctuary to didn't understand us after nearly four months of daily contact. If Jerry really thought we killed his little cousins, he probably would have greeted me with a bullet, not a parley.

  "Is Winona too far to be included in your network?" Jerry asked.

  "It really depends on the radio coverage. We can't offer protection if you can't contact us for help. Winona is in a low point between steep mountain ridges, I'm not sure our radios have enough power to reach there," I said. Winona was on the north side of the Mecklin River. The militia we eliminated early after the crash made their secondary assault on Huntsville by traveling through Winona. The town only had two roads in, and I suspected Hill's relatives blocked both after the first attack.

  "That doesn't mean we can't help you eliminate those murdering bandits if you do find them. We are dealing with a few issues right now that may delay us, but we could patrol in force through the Winona area next week. If it will help?"

  Jerry nodded, "It can't hurt. The town is already broken in half by this. After the first attack, we posted 24-hour guards at the roadblocks. Whoever is doing this is either inside our perimeter or very skilled at coming in cross country."

  "If they took the solar, they aren't moving cross country," I said.

  "Some think they stashed the bulky items, ready to pick it up after we drop our guard," Jerry said.

  "Could it be some of your less scrupulous neighbors inside your perimeter?" I asked.

  "Possibly, but we won't know unless one of them suddenly gets a solar power supply," Jerry said.

  "I don't remember a lot about Winona and its surrounding farms, other than it is in the Mecklin River valley. If we mount an operation, I would need assurances that your people won't target mine without cause," I said.

  "We haven't exhausted our own resources, yet. At some point, we might consider a mutual aid pact, but no one is ready for that. Many of my relatives think your group is too powerful already. I am aware your family spent generations preparing for a disaster and do not need to take supplies from others," said Jerry.

  I gave him time to say more, but he was done. "After any wide-scale grid crash, experts predicted starving big city hordes would raid and pillage surrounding communities. In that scenario, we believed maintaining a low profile and fighting like hell if confronted was our best survival strategy. Some of our clan didn't think Nashville or Knoxville qualified as big cities. But we prepared, just in case. Instead, we encountered several petty local tyrants. Hiding from them wouldn't work, they already knew where we lived." Jerry nodded but remained silent.

  "After we cleaned house in the area, my clan rethought our original premise. With no hordes, maybe we could help our neighbors rebuild faster? That is where we are now. We plan to provide security backup for those who join us. At least to grow this upcoming season's crops," I said.

  "Don't you think telling people if they shoot at you, they die is over the top?" Jerry asked.

  "No. It's honest. The safest place for my people is to stay inside our barricades. If they are going to be away from our strongholds, they deserve the best protection we can give them. So far, everyone shooting at us has died. I hope for everyone's sake others take our warnings seriously," I said.

  "I'll talk with my people," Jerry said. "I hope whoever killed my uncle's family got what they needed. If the murderers return, I'll contact you. Perhaps by then, we will develop more clues to work with."

  We shook hands. I returned to the truck, slipping into the back seat behind the driver. "Let's go. Slow and steady, these people are jumpy. Someone wiped out a couple of families in Winona, and some of Jerry's people think we did it."

  As much as I wanted to go to Winona to check it out, appearing there with the current level of mistrust would hurt the prospects of peace.

  "James, what did we do wrong with the group accusing us of treating them like slaves?" I asked, the Gamma riding shotgun. I didn't remember who these boys were related to, but all Gammas were related to long-term Valley families.

  "I don't know, I don't hang out with them." James paused. "I don't know anyone who hangs out with them. In the beginning, all the new people were thankful for a safe, healthy place to stay. I joined the Gammas soon after that, and I've seen what life is like on the outside. It makes me grateful every day my sister and family are safe in the Valley. So, I'm not a good one to ask."

  "I can't add much," said Tank, our driver. "I dated one of the girls from Glenn's group before the crash. I thought Glenn sponsoring her and the rest of his neighborhood into the Valley was a miracle. After she settled into the Valley, even with our heavy work schedules, we found ways to spend time together. I thought we were getting serious until I joined the Gammas. She dropped me like a hot rock. At the time, I thought she found another guy. This whole mess has me wondering whether my joining the Gammas was the trigger. When she ditched me, she called me a jack-booted thug. I had enough and walked away. A few weeks later, she tried to get back together, but I wasn't having any of it."

  "It seems they will get the showdown they want tonight," I said. "But the whole thing feels like a betrayal."

  "I don't remember a lot of what she said. I paid more attention to her, uh, physical attributes, if you know what I mean. The break up floored me, so I mostly focused on it," Tank said. "That and trying to find out who she dumped me for. She kept talking about the el
ite. How the council got extra food and never worked. That kind of thing. With my dad and grandad both on the council, I knew it was bull. Now I wonder if it was part of their propaganda. Sorry I didn't say anything before."

  "Don't worry over it, Tank. I probably heard stuff that I didn't take seriously enough, either. They hit me across the head with it, or I'm not sure I'd believe it even now," I said. "I hoped to take the group out a few at a time and show them how the rest of Huntsville lives. Not going to happen now."

  A man wearing a heavy overcoat who appeared unarmed waved us down as we drove past the Dollar General. I slid out the back door. Tank stopped the truck but kept it in gear, James and Grady held their rifles at the ready.

  "Are you guys with the Mecklin Defenders?" the man asked. I could now tell he might be a few years younger than me, but it was hard to tell with the new lines on his face.