Surviving The Black (Book 4): Betrayal From Within

by Finley, Zack

  "All the adults except Juanita and Lois qualified for marksman," Zeke said, putting on his magnifying eyeglasses.

  "John told me Juanita could shoot, she just can't see very far," I said. "Lois may require some remedial training."

  "Not sure if it would be worth it, she is mighty frail. Wait until she gets some muscles back," Zeke said. "She did okay with a Glock-26 for self-defense. Her best location in an attack will be taking care of the kids, anyway. She would be wasted on the front lines."

  "I didn't see a pistol when I talked to her this morning," I said.

  "She wanted a hideout holster; I gave here a nice ankle glove from my gun shop days. In some ways, having a holdout gun for our noncombatants might be better than requiring them to carry a rifle."

  "Maybe," I said. "Not ready to change anything right now. Should someone talk with Dr. Jerrod about Juanita's eyesight?"

  "I think Tom spoke to her, but I doubt anything will change. Unfortunately, I can't see Juanita hiding in a bunker. Tom promised to speak privately with Jose, her son. I don't want her unarmed, but I also don't want her to shoot one of us, either."

  "Let her look over your knives; she may be willing to carry something in a sheath. Juanita is comfortable with sharp objects," I said, recalling how quickly she pulled a butcher's knife during a confrontation.

  "I may suggest that to Tom, he is my chief liaison with the Arkansas group. They really trust him and are understandably wary of the rest of us," Zeke said.

  "That is Tom for you," I said. "How are the dogs doing?"

  "Dwayne is a great addition. I learned more about how he left the Army. He and his dog, Bear, were stationed at Fort Hood until given the option to leave in November. Chaos, fires, and a lot of humanity forced them to swing west around the mess Dallas-Fort Worth turned into. Once he got free of that disaster zone, he was on foot headed to Helena. That is where he met up with Grady and Andy. Dwayne went on two combat deployments, but Bear was still in training at Fort Hood when the CME hit. I'm ready to add him to the Gammas and tempted to push him for Beta status," Zeke said.

  "Let's get our dogs combat-ready, first," I said. "He is already assigned to us full-time, so no hurry."

  "It won't hurt for him to replace some of his muscle mass, either," Zeke said. "All of Grady's group is thin, but Dwayne is nearly emaciated."

  "What does Tom say about Sean, Grady's wounded man?"

  "He will be off injured status in three or four more weeks. No infection, but Dr. Jerrod doesn't like his physical conditioning," Zeke said. "I'm starting to like the rest of Grady's men. All are experienced combat squad leaders, no dilettantes in the bunch. Not Rangers, but once they get back into warrior shape and finish a few training ops with us, we will be happy to welcome them."

  "Good news. Has Grady said anything more about contacting the Army?"

  "Not to me, you'd have to ask Grady or Roger. Everyone is hesitant right now about inviting any group in without interviewing them first. And even then, that might not be enough," Zeke said.

  "Have you heard when the jury is due to wrap up?" I asked.

  "No, but I think everyone cleared of involvement is back at work, according to rumors, anyway. I take it you and your folks aren't talking about it?" Zeke asked.

  "Nope, not at the house, anyway. Everyone is walking on eggshells right now. Roger is overseeing the whole thing for us. Everyone at my house just wants it over. I worry about what the other kids are saying to my girls."

  "The primary thing I hear is whether the executions should be public or not. Some are even calling for public hangings."

  "What is the reasoning on that?" I asked. I favored taking the miscreants to a remote site and executing them. In the Valley, someone would have to deal with the bodies. Off-site, nature would take its course.

  "Public hanging underscores it as an execution and an official act," Zeke said.

  I was a little surprised no one used the term 'deterrent.' "If they need to die, no reason to drag it out. Making a public spectacle of it doesn't make it better."

  "True, so far the list for the death penalty is eight. Roger nailed them dead to rights, so there isn't any question about them. The jury is wrestling over what to do with those who knew or suspected something, but didn't tell anyone. The consensus so far is to tie them up and drop them off somewhere deep in one of the local national forests and let God judge them."

  That had some merit, but it seemed like a cop-out and unnecessarily cruel. If they deserved a second chance, I'd rather see them at Justice. If they weren't worth another chance, then the death penalty was better, cleaner. Any Mandy and Steve couldn't stomach would be too high a risk to allow to leave. A man shoots his own dog when it becomes rabid. They were ours now.

  I knew the jury would visit all the victims' families and seek our input. I just hoped Mandy and Steve could move beyond, "Hell no" and allow those not directly involved to start again in Justice. Intellectually I understood the objection, viscerally not so much.

  Zeke continued dismantling the rifle, letting me drift off. My hands kept busy, popping the end off each magazine, pulling the head and spring. Most of our mags were aluminum, although we had some plastic ones, too.

  Most I reassembled with a quick wipe using a dry rag. Any that seemed sluggish or visibly dirty went into a "to be washed" bucket for later. Soap, water, and a ratty toothbrush would take care of these. I thumbed cartridges into the 'clean' ones and put the reloaded magazines in a fat 50 cal. ammo can for storage. Carrying a full can was an excellent strength-building exercise.

  "We need to train more people to be wood ninjas," I said.

  "Ben and I talked about that. I think Mike will make a better scout than a medic," Zeke said. "A few of the Gammas were hunters and might be trainable. We need more snipers, too. Having both Craig and Ben gone left us too vulnerable to suit me. All the Rangers shoot well enough for most things, but we need to begin advanced training for our Gammas. That should surface those with scout or sniper skills. Scott is really committed to becoming the backup medic, so letting Mike move to scout should work."

  "I think we should transition away from the whole Force Beta and Gamma concept," Zeke said, testing the water. "The designation confuses everyone but us, and we need to merge the two groups."

  "I've been wondering the same thing. Any idea about what the rest of our Rangers think?" I asked.

  "Some are enthused, and the rest don't care. I've polled everyone, and they are fine with it, if you are."

  "Then we need badges for rank," I said. "I don't mind merging the two groups, but the Rangers have a lot of combat years on the Gammas. Right now, the Betas are in unquestioned charge. It might not matter in the near term, but we only need one screwup to get someone killed."

  "Excellent point, we should resolve that before combining teams. We also need to work out the whole Valley defense and Mecklin Defender thing. Your dad's cronies might listen to one of our Rangers but might not respect somebody's grandson."

  "Everything gets complicated," I said, sighing.

  "People invented bureaucracy for a reason," Zeke said, grinning at my exasperation. "We can get through this year's harvest without doing anything, but the longer we wait, the harder change gets. That also means you and I need to become more familiar with our Gammas. They are mostly interchangeable to me. I recognize them at PT but don't really know them as individuals. The sooner we pull together a new table of organization, the better."

  Zeke thought the Robbins area sweep would take three to four days. He recommended filling mailboxes with Mecklin Defender papers tomorrow, starting with Dr. Kyle's area first. "That technique worked in Oneida. Most people we met later saw one or more of our notes."

  I radioed Justice and requested they prepare a stack of handouts special for Robbins that included an offer of home health services during our initial contact.

  It didn't take long for our request to reach Mandy. "Mandy to Jeremy," came over the radio.

  "Go for
Jeremy."

  "What is this offer of home health services?" Mandy radioed.

  "We are taking Lois with us to provide some rudimentary medical care. I'm hoping it gets us in the door. It would be nice if people down there warned us of road traffic. And, we may need help finding our recruits," I radioed.

  "Be careful not to raise expectations, we can't be expected to provide doctor's visits down there," Mandy radioed.

  "Why not consider a mobile clinic? Robbins is just 8 miles away. I don't know where the local ambulances are, but it seems like a possibility," I radioed.

  "I'll fix your handouts, but we'll talk about this when you come to pick them up, tomorrow," Mandy radioed, ending the conversation.

  "Mobile clinics?" asked Zeke. "Where did that come from?"

  "It just came to me. We may transition to the horse and buggy days, but we need to provide some benefit to those in our sphere of influence. Treating sick kids, broken bones, or deep cuts could be one way, especially if we recruit help for Dr. Jerrod. We have more general medical depth than we planned for already," I said. "There really isn't that much for medical to do on a daily basis. The mutiny and adding the Arkansas refugees spread them a little thin this month, but adding Lois doubled our nursing capacity. They are training nursing aides, but they could train with real patients rather than just books. Justice stores a lot of community medical supplies so it won't drain the Valley stock."

  "I'll let you suggest it to Dr. Jerrod," Zeke said, shaking his head.

  I thought the doctor would welcome this outreach. The prime reason she wanted to recruit doctors for the Valley had more to do with the demands that surgery put on her. She was no thoracic or orthopedic surgeon. She was a talented emergency room doctor, but before the crash, she handed patients off to specialists. Now she was everything, including the anesthesiologist, and she knew every patient. They were friends and neighbors.

  Tom told me that as an emergency room doctor, she seldom knew the patient, but now she knew everyone. Before the crash, she treated the illness or the wound, now she saw the total person. He said it put tremendous pressure on her that she hadn't expected.

  We might not be ready to mount a mobile clinic every day, but, I thought it was worth considering for the future.

  Zeke and I worked at our tasks in amiable silence. I washed the gunk out of the dirty magazines, using an old toothbrush donated for the task. I red-tagged three magazines for further work. With minor dents in the cases, I would have tossed them before the CME. Now, if Zeke couldn't fix them, he'd give them a red stripe to use in training practice only.

  I left at dark to walk back to my new home, but Zeke stayed to dig into another rifle. That man loved his work. I had some thinking to do.

  I passed a passel of kids on their way to the recreation hut, including Jennifer and Melissa. My girls delivered quick hugs, before racing off to catch up with the group. It left me trudging home in silence. I felt a small tug of temptation toward the hut but resisted it easily.

  It was no coincidence that looking for Dr. Kyle topped the mission board. Zeke and Roger wanted me back. It was their way of telling me to stop moping and get back into action.

  The family room was dark and empty. The light was on in my mom's office, and my dad studied some pamphlets in the dining room.

  "Whatcha studying?" I asked, poking my head into the dining room.

  "Publications from Agricultural Extension Service. As a country, we may be a lot worse off than I suspected," he said. "The Valley is fine, but the rest of the country sure screwed up."

  I sat beside him, "How so?"

  "According to this publication, virtually all the corn, soybean, wheat, and most vegetables in the United States grew last year from hybrid or genetically modified seeds. That means that most American farmland will be worthless until someone grows seeds that can reproduce. It makes our supply of heirloom seeds a lot more important than I ever realized. I knew large agri-business used hybrids because the yield was so much better. I should have understood the little guy was stuck doing the same or giving up his farm. I just didn't understand how bad it got. Jacob tells me that even his family used hybrid seeds for most grain crops. He thinks they will be okay for vegetables, but corn and wheat will be a problem. You know what this means?"

  "A lot more people are going to die?" I asked.

  "Yeah. And anyone with viable crops is going to stand out like a beacon," my dad said. "Food production in our area should be fine, this year. We have enough hybrid seeds for our community outreach. But when those seeds run out, there is no way we will have enough true-type heirloom seeds for the greater community to survive another season. It means we will be setting aside a lot more acreage in the Valley for seed production than we expected. Claire is already planning to ramp up propagation for berries, asparagus, potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, and garlic. But it won't be enough. We need more seed. Enough to get this area through this season and the next."

  "What about the local farmers?"

  "That is what caused my alarm. They don't have any seed. Local farmers contacted Justice begging for seed. They have a little hybrid corn seed left over from last year's planting but nothing else. Some have vegetable garden seeds, but most of them buy seeds for just-in-time planting."

  "Why would even local farmers do that?" I asked.

  "Yield, germination, and crop consistency. Using hybrids can double or triple your yield. Hybrids mature at the same speed, making the entire field ready for harvest at the same time. Culling and storing your own seed is labor-intensive. I knew our neighbors were planting hybrids, but I didn't think of the consequences for post-apocalypse, since I knew we were okay."

  "Are we sure they can't plant seeds from hybrid plants?" I asked.

  "They can plant them; many are sterile and won't germinate by design. Even with non-sterile strains, a corn kernel may sprout. It may even yield a tiny ear of corn, but it is just as likely to grow only a stalk without any ears."

  "Why would anyone want to produce sterile seed?"

  "It minimizes any reseeding from the prior crop. It is actually a feature some farmers looked for in their seed, especially soybeans, wheat, and rice."

  "So, every farmer in the country is screwed? How fast can we generate viable seed?"

  "Claire says it takes seven-to-nine harvest cycles to produce stable seed. Farmers might plant hybrids, saving the seeds from the best plants. But it will still be a crapshoot year after year." My dad looked shrunken, diminished somehow. Maybe even defeated. Not something I ever associated with him. He tried to hide the toll Granny's death, and the kidnappings took, but it really showed in quiet times like this.

  "Over the years, even though Claire railed on about hybrid seeds, I missed the consequence of their wholesale use. Not when added to the collapse of the power grid and transportation. If tough-minded survivalists like our local farm co-op abandoned their caution, I suspect the rest of the nation's farmers followed suit. Hell, even the Amish and Mennonites couldn't resist. If Claire wasn't such a zealot about seeds, I probably would have shifted for some crops. But we haven't needed our farm to do more than cover expenses for decades, and could stubbornly resist the temptation without losing my land. I didn't even think about the corn and feed we purchased for our animals. I'm sure it was hybrid, so I shouldn't be surprised that our neighbors are screwed."

  The projections that 90 percent of Americans would die in a massive grid meltdown began to feel real. We all lived on borrowed time. I couldn't do anything about the country, but I could try to do something about our corner of it. When I ordered all those supplies from Amazon at the last minute, I should have ordered seeds instead. Who knew?

  "Where are the hybrid seeds stored?" I asked.

  "Claire is trying to figure that out now. Few locations in our part of the country. Most local suppliers were empty in October when the grid died. Another just-in-time inventory deal. Your mom is trying to find addresses for people in the county who might know where t
he bigger warehouses are. We still won't know if they received any seed before the grid collapsed."

  "Are you thinking of going on some salvage runs?"

  "It depends on where the supply warehouses are. I'm not sending anyone on another 500-mile journey. For this one, we would need to score at least a semi-full to be worthwhile," my dad said.

  "We do have semis," I replied.

  "Several seed companies had warehouses near Knoxville. Unfortunately, that covers a lot of ground. If we get some addresses, I will probably ask Jules to do a flyover. No use sending anyone if they burned up. Someone removed all the seeds from the farm co-op in Oneida before we went after the Walmart. Claire is trying to find the co-op manager's home address. Her other major lead is the Mecklin County Agricultural Extension representative. I didn't think anything in the county office building would be of value, but it seems I might be wrong. I'd like you to hit it tomorrow before you leave for Robbins. I need you to do this, or your mom will insist on going. I'm just not up for her leaving the Valley right now. If I go, she'll insist on going with me. If you and your team do it, then it is a routine trip."