Surviving The Black (Book 4): Betrayal From Within

by Finley, Zack

Allie’s map rested in my lap, and I alternated between binoculars and regular sight.

  "How soon do you expect to leave?" Jules asked.

  "If we spot the warehouse today, then we can leave as early as tomorrow morning. But my guess is we will probably wait a few days to make sure we have the gear we need to empty the warehouse. It may take longer to prep for our grain run. First, they need to figure out how to empty a grain bin and then load that grain into closed trailers. All this without knowing its design. I doubt we can fill four trailers with grain in 24 hours by hand. But my dad may have some contraption tucked away that can help."

  What had taken hours on the road took mere moments by air. The Chaney Gap roadblock had not changed except that someone burned the bodies. Jules tilted the airplane and throttled back to give me a decent vantage point. It caused Allie’s map to fall on the floor and slide against the bottom of the door. I couldn't spot anyone on the roadblock. We flew into the valley, while I cursed Jules and retrieved my map.

  The ridges defining the valley were steep and higher than most of the surrounding terrain. From the air, I spotted old scars left from coal mining, but no signs of any active mines. The basin looked like perfect survival habitat. Cultivated pastureland, dotted with horses and cattle. Numerous stock ponds and every house had smoke wafting from the chimneys. I spotted several people on horseback and others who came outside to stare at our plane. These people were well-situated. I wished them well as Jules veered us back toward Sunbright to continue our reconnaissance.

  We spotted other farm clusters tucked into the forest, but they were closer to Sunbright. The other farm clusters were easier to approach, but all had limited road access.

  Air travel reminded me of how much the steep mountainous terrain dominated this area. Maps failed to convey sheer scope. In western Tennessee, rivers and creeks were the leading impediments to travel. Here on the Cumberland Plateau, rivers and creeks cut deep, but the sheer rocky ridges controlled everything. And everything funneled through gaps.

  Like most area towns, Sunbright was a string of houses and businesses hugging a road through semi-flat ground surrounded by ridges and mountains. Smoke wafted from chimneys, and I even spotted people outside splitting wood. A smattering of vehicles were either abandoned on or beside the traffic lanes. I spotted a person walking beside a horse on the highway hauling logs tied onto something like a car axle. We then flew over the lumber mill that I suspected was the source of said logs.

  The road was reasonably clear until we neared Wartburg. The railroad track, which until now stayed along the same path as the highway, veered off to the west. A massive traffic pile-up blocked US-27 in a curvy section near a small reservoir. It was hard to determine the root cause of the crash, but it had been fiery and involved at least 10 vehicles. Unscrambling this tangled wreck would be a major undertaking. At least there wasn't a line of cars leading up to the wreck. Those attempting to get by were able to turn around and try a different route.

  Another jumble of vehicles blocked US-27 in a three-lane section just before Wartburg, and a similar jumble blocked a smaller road. Both piles had burned, and from the visible rust, I suspected the crashes happened soon after the lights went out.

  Then we saw Wartburg. Wha was once a pleasant small town was now a charred hulk.

  "Jules, can you slow down and circle here," I asked.

  Jules throttled back and began a slow bank, leaving me on the down side. "What do you see?"

  "I think I see bodies lying on the ground scattered around town. They may be random piles of clothes, but I doubt it." I finally zeroed in on a pile with my binoculars and confirmed. "Not just clothes, bodies. Let's see what else we have here."

  The aircraft remained throttled back, but Jules leveled the flight.

  "The buildings are so far apart, I don't see how the fire spread to so many buildings," Jules said.

  "I don't think it spread without the help of a firebug. I'm looking at a crater I think once was a gas station."

  The destruction went beyond the main road, many buildings on either side were either fully consumed or semi-torched.

  "They even burned the fire department," I said. "And the fire engines." The destruction made no sense. No matter what beef one had with society, few would trash the fire department. Clearly, the level of lawlessness we spotted here was far greater than seen elsewhere.

  While the destruction was not total, it was widespread. The ruin spared some scattered buildings, but we spotted no active signs of current life, anywhere. The vehicles on the streets and parked in front of burned-out buildings all burned in place. And not recently.

  While some of the chaos spread to the surrounding forests, it failed to get a toehold, and the forest damage was limited to the fringes surrounding the town.

  The mindless level of destruction centered on TN-62, our planned route. Our flight over Petros revealed a jumble of cars hopelessly blocking TN-116 in the steep, curvy section just out of town. This might have been people's last hope because nearly 50 cars were abandoned in the traffic lanes on the Petros side of the crash.

  TN-62 was jammed in both directions on the narrow winding section along the Middle Fork of the Emory River.

  "I think they went crazy when they couldn't get out of the area," Jules said, as he turned to check out US-27. "Any bets whether US-27 is blocked, too?"

  "No, but we need to check it out, anyway. Something strange went on here," I said. "It doesn't make much sense."

  "Yeah, which came first the fires or the blocked roads?"

  "It looks to me like some group went crazy and started burning everything, and the sane people tried to get out."

  "Between the ridges, mountain ranges, rivers, and creeks, it is hard to believe the pioneers made it through this area. It makes me respect those old Breckinridges even more," I said. "I think that is US-27 down there, follow it north so I can confirm it."

  "We followed the ridge over, so the only thing it can be is US-27. I expect the choke point will be getting through this mountain ridge."

  I couldn't argue, I wished for a topographic map. Curvy lines on the roadmap were the only indications of mountainous terrain, and in this part of Tennessee, the terrain dictated the roadbed.

  There were multiple wrecks on US-27 in the areas Jules predicted. We surmised the first crash occurred at the southernmost edge. No one would ever know, but it seemed logical. Several northbound cars appeared trapped between the crash sites.

  I hoped we could find a different route. Those stuck in this island of inhumanity must have turned on one another, rather than worked together to survive. Burning down homes and businesses was crazy. The only positive thing I could think was the chaos afflicting this region likely prevented anyone fleeing Knoxville from going north to bother us.

  The unique folds of the earth in this part of Tennessee severely limited surface travel. Everything, roads, ridges, and rivers, traveled in a generally northeasterly direction, forced to parallel the scores of long, steep creases of the earth’s crust.

  Few highways snaked through this corduroy of ridges, threading through a scant handful of narrow gaps. The highest ridges in the narrow mountainous chain rose nearly 2,000 feet above the surrounding valleys.

  From the sky, the only straight objects were the ridges and the hosts of power lines through the area, quite visible due to the swath of cleared trees. Even the interstates deferred to the terrain through this region.

  We discussed flying back over the mountain road from Norma to Huntsville to see if it was a better route. Much of it was gravel, and I doubted many from Knoxville could find it without a map. I suspected it, too, was obstructed. Knowing those living in the area, the roadblocks weren't random and came with their own risks.

  That all assumed the seed warehouse existed. At this point, I wasn't willing to waste more time finding a route without a viable destination.

  After leaving Wartburg, much of the forested lands we flew over seemed untouched, Oak Ridge wa
sn't so lucky. Burned-out hulks dominated once-prosperous neighborhoods and the area's business center. Before the crash, more people lived in the town of Oak Ridge than in all of Mecklin County. I wondered how many people lived here now, and whether they perished in the blazes or attempted to leave.

  We flew too fast to make much sense of the devastation on the ground. Torched cars littered the area, some parked in front of charred homes or businesses, but most others parked randomly on the streets. The city was a ghost town, lacking even the hopeful signs of warming fires. Toxic runoff from the burned remnants likely tainted any city creeks. The nearest body of water was the Clinch River. Survivors seemed to have migrated to the shores of the river, where we spotted a tent city along with a host of makeshift shacks and shelters. Here were the warming and cooking fires.

  Since this was Oak Ridge, Jules and I wondered about radiation, but we had no Geiger counter to measure it with. We didn't linger.

  "You could make it across the rivers if you hauled gas out of your abandoned cars and walked the cans to the far side," Jules said. "I just don't think you'll get any big-rigs through. Have you thought about the railroad tracks? That bridge by the power plant is free."

  "The railroad might be a reasonable way around Wartburg. Bridges would be scary, but worth considering. Any abandoned railcar could stop us in our tracks. We would need to scout the entire length before committing."

  I struggled to keep track of our location from the air, even with my detailed map. By the time I figured out where we were, we were already someplace else. Especially as I tried to make sense of the devastation on the ground. More burned areas, with entire housing developments, flattened and commercial areas erased. It took two passes, but I finally got us lined up to examine the northwest quadrant from I-40 and I-140. We would not be moving the incinerated vehicles from the freeway. I couldn't be sure, but it looked like some industrial plant caught fire and set off a series of explosions. Not far from where we sought the warehouse. Some warehouses there remained intact, but a lot of the housing areas burned to the ground. All I could conclude was maybe. Maybe the warehouse was there, and it might contain seeds. Or not.

  Air reconnaissance was great, but in this instance, it left too many unknowns. We flew north to check out the route from Clinchmore through Norma. It was partially paved and appeared mostly clear. Especially if the hill folks blocked the roads early in the crisis to keep the refugees out.

  Jules and I shared a sense of disappointment as we flew back toward Huntsville. The alternate roadway was rough but probably passable, even with big-rigs. It had only one really bad spot coming through the gap near Oak Ridge, but it met up with the railroad and might allow us to bypass Oak Ridge easily. We might have some problems with the natives, but I hoped they would keep out of sight. Just not a reasonable risk without a suitable prize. No trips to Knoxville, unless we learned something new. The route was a big, fat, maybe, but the destination looked like a major war zone.

  Even with all the flying around we did near Knoxville, we followed TN-52 west to Jamesburg only an hour and a half after we took off from Oneida.

  Orienteering using a flat map still sucked. It was easy to mistake one road or town with another. Everything appeared different from the air. The stress and mental concentration it took was exhausting.

  "I'm surprised you were willing to fly very far after the GPS satellites went down," I said. "Figuring out where you are while flying the plane has to be rough."

  "Having the Sierras to my left made it easy on the Sacramento to Bakersfield leg. I'm just lucky the weather cooperated on the leg from Bakersfield to Flagstaff. I flew down to see Andy and the kids a few times, so I wasn't flying the route cold turkey. Still, it was a lot easier to just plug the route into my GPS. But what I really miss are the weather forecasts. Lacking a GPS or an updated weather forecast at the same time makes it a lot more dangerous to fly, especially long distances. If the fog rolls in or you get a heavy overcast, smacking into a mountain can ruin your day."

  "Right," I said. "I'll wish for good weather for the rest of the day."

  "No airport lights make it difficult to land in one piece after dark, too."

  "Okay, no night-time operations in the air," I said. "We should probably secure all the aviation gas at our airport for the future."

  "Yeah, it needs a stabilizer before summer. How many air operations are you imagining, anyway?"

  "We could fly down to Fort Benning and pick up a crew of Rangers. We could check out the route on the way down, and I could ride back with them. You could fly back," I said.

  "We could just leave the plane there," Jules said. "There are several at the Oneida airport I can fly."

  "You probably can't keep up with a crew of Rangers, old man," I said.

  "I'm only 30 days older than you, buddy."

  "Yeah, but I don't want your mama fretting."

  "You don't think a crew of Rangers can protect one measly civilian?"

  "Well, they probably will bring their families, so there will probably be more than one civilian. I suspect you might keep up with the Ranger children."

  "I doubt your mama will let you stay and play with them, either. She made that pretty clear," Jules said.

  "That is why you have to fly back. If we invite people to stay, I must know any new group will do well in the Valley. We can't survive another betrayal."

  "Rangers can be assholes, but I can't imagine them betraying their brothers-in-arms," Jules said. "Besides, you haven't talked to them at all, according to Grady."

  "I'm thinking of calling Fort Campbell when we get back and arrange for troops and families to meet us at the granary. Having more people to load us up will be positive. And it will give us a chance to evaluate any troublesome types," I said.

  "Not much of a tryout," Jules said. "What happens if they suck?"

  "I send them back, but only after they help us load up. Free labor." I glanced at the map, then the compass. "Go due west from here. Jamestown has roadblocks on all the roads from the south and one west side roadblock on TN-52. We will have to clear two to get through. I want to avoid that Walmart, so we'll cut over at Allardt. Too bad those power line right of ways don’t come with bridges over the creeks."

  I marked the locations of the roadblocks on the maps lightly with a pencil, knowing I might be a road or two off for its precise location. That uncertainty wasn't enough of a reason to circle back.

  "Next stop is in about 120 miles on this heading. If we get to Clarksville, we've gone too far."

  "Airspeed is about 165 miles per hour, so about 45 minutes to go 120 miles," Jules said. "What exactly are we looking for?"

  "Just need to confirm the grain bins haven't burned down. Also, find out whether someone is guarding them. If it was near us, I sure would be."

  "If they are guarding them, then what?"

  "We'll try to persuade them to let us take some. We only need a small fraction of what is there, so I'm hoping they will be reasonable," I said.

  "Have you thought of bringing breeding pairs of goats, pigs, and chickens to trade?" Jules asked.

  "No, our timeline won’t allow it. I also think they are more apt to meet us with a bucket of lead than a trade deal," I said.

  "What if you suggested to the Army they come load up, too? If you can't reach a deal with the locals, you can give the Army the critters."

  "You know, for an astrophysicist, most of your ideas are harebrained," I said.

  "How much solar do they have?" Jules asked. "We could help them with that. And some packets of seeds or potatoes."

  "No way we can light up Fort Campbell," I said.

  "What about a modest system that can operate a water pump? Having reliable water is important, lights aren't that needed. Sleep at night; work during the day. I thought you were going to tell them where to search for seed and grain west of their location?"

  "Sounds like you are suggesting a substantial trading relationship," I said. "They really don't have much
we need. What they do have are a lot of hungry people with weapons. I want them focused west and not at us. It isn't lost on me that the Army might consider us another resource to exploit. Something like those guarding the granary we are checking out. I intend to take a share of that grain. Not because we have an inherent right to it, but because we can."

  Perhaps Roger was right to keep the Army at arm's length. I might want a few more warriors, but I sure didn't want a company showing up on my doorstep demanding our supplies. I wondered whether Jules recognized my faulty logic and let me work through the topic. It wouldn’t be the first, nor I suspected the last time, he kept me from making a colossal blunder.

  "If the Army showed up with enough firepower on our doorstep to take our food and gear, we couldn't stop them. They might not get it all, but it would hurt. Our folks worry if we contact them, they can find us. I have no interest in tempting them to search for us, but I'd like to find a way to suggest they secure the grain supplies from Hickman to Memphis and Nashville. That could save a lot of lives in rural Tennessee, if they dole it out to communities." I winced. "Yeah, I hear myself, do what I say, not what I do."