by Finley, Zack
The morning after we got the agreement to proceed, Joel, Zeke, and I found ourselves standing in front of our farm's three grain bins. Staring at a powerhead for the grain auger used to move the grain from the center of one bin to the edge. Grain dropped by gravity into each bin's central sump. The auger screw rotated, pushing the grain from the sump out of the bin. On our farm, the auger connected to a short lift that could fill a truck or cart.
On large commercial operations, such as the ones near Clarksville, the auger probably dumped the grain into a basin. Buckets on the grain elevator dip grain from the basin and raise the grain to the top of the elevator. The grain is buckets spill the grain into a tube feeding the drier, another bin, a truck, or railcar. While a tractor's PTO might turn a ground-level grain-bin auger, the motor and gears for most elevators sit near the top of the elevator. It would be great to use the facility’s equipment, but there was too much variation in machinery to count on any of it without power. Our generator could only power so much.
Our farm's corn harvesting process was more complicated than most typical pre-crash corn operations. Watching it in action last fall primed me for this mission. Before Jacob came, my dad usually hired one of his neighbors with a sophisticated combine to harvest our corn. While Jacob didn't use an actual tractor or combine, his horse teams pulled a small gas engine power-take-off (PTO) cart hooked to a three-row corn picker and dump cart. Jacob swapped dump carts as they filled.
This process change prompted my dad to build two large metal corn cribs. Made of heavy wire mesh with conical galvanized roofs, we could pull cobs from nearly every height using old-time conveyor belts. While the conveyors had electric motors, we could drive them with either a PTO or a tractor. Jacob and my dad spent several seasons experimenting with different configurations.
Last harvest, we shelled half and stored the rest of the corn cobs for future shelling. We augered the shelled corn into our farm’s grain bin dedicated to corn. The husks and bone-dry corn cobs could then be burned or shredded.
The farm used most of the shredded cobs for mulch between beds and around fruit trees for weed control. George used the rest for animal bedding, sending the used bedding to the composters. Just another resource to be managed.
I have no idea where my dad picked up the sheller. It was built before he was born, but he assured me that as long as someone kept its feed hopper full, the sheller could keep up with our corn harvesting operation. He liked the diversity we got from storing some of the corn cobs in the crib and the shelled corn in the bin. With seed at a premium, my mom liked having all the shelling consolidated in one place. Normal combines lost some of the seed in the field. With this contraption, any dropped kernels could be collected on-site.
The sheller relied on several small electric motors to drive pulleys, belts, and conveyors to operate. Gravity, with a people-powered assist, fed the hoppers and conveyors, either from the dump trailers or the corn crib. Visualizing how different parts work together may give me some insight into what is possible once we arrive a the granary. Unfortunately, not knowing what configuration we will find means we need to be ready for nearly anything.
After witnessing the last harvest, I understood why the farm now had so many small dump trailers. We could hook them together into a long chain or use them solo. They were quite mobile, whether pulled by a horse, tractor, forklift, truck, or even a person.
Last season, farmworkers swapped out trailers filled with shucked kernels over a swing hopper. The kernels dropped into the hopper, and its auger, powered by a small electric motor, moved the grain up and into the grain bin. The wheeled auger was nearly 100-foot long and discharged the grain through a spout at the end. Moving the unwieldy contraption from bin to bin was a pain. The hand-cranked supports raised or lowered the head. It worked for corn, grain, or soybeans.
A 15-foot version of this auger would be perfect for our mission. We just didn't have one. I was surprised. Clearly, no one offered one at a local estate sale, or my dad would have snapped it up.
When I was growing up, we only had one grain bin, so the auger came out of storage and spent the whole harvest season parked in one place. At that time, the tractor's PTO turned the auger directly. I suspected this was the same auger, just updated with a more renewable power source.
We couldn't take it on this operation. Even if I could break it down and strap it to our trailers, the Valley didn't have a spare. We had replacement bearings and parts, but it was too valuable to risk on this adventure.
The operation would have to rely on shovels and conveyors. And maybe a compact tractor with front end loader and PTO. Along with an assortment of pulleys and belts. And maybe a generator and lots of buckets.
Our brain trust recommended we bring the truck with a roofing conveyor system salvaged from one of the home improvement stores. It had room for a generator and a farm tractor, plus stacks of buckets and bins. We salvaged a piggyback rig from a trailer in town to carry the forklift.
The truck conveyor was a hydraulic unit that lifted buckets and containers, not loose grain. It was still better than carrying the grain up a ladder or ramp to reach the top of the trailers. None of the conveyors worked on loose grain unless they were almost level. I worried it would take us three days to load a single trailer.
Each trailer now had two hinged top doors to load grain through. The size was limited since we didn’t want to cut through any of the structural ribs. I was worried enough about the grain rupturing the trailer and spilling out half-way home.
Getting the grain out of a bin was probably the easiest part of the plan. At least there was some commonality of design for grain bin augers. The compact tractor’s PTO would power the gearbox, turning the auger screw. I asked to borrow a tractor from the Valley, but the council turned down my request. We were now prepping our salvaged replacement.
Over the past few months, our salvage team located 20 other tractors within the county. We sent a strike team to bring one of those back to the Valley. Having a census of salvageable items was paying off. Getting that tractor ready for the trip had Jimmy and Joel working late the night before we left.
While we could just poke a hole in the side of a grain bin and empty it that way, it risked a catastrophic bin collapse. Much better to empty it evenly using the installed augers. Less waste and much safer.
We staged the two semis, each pulling tandem trailers in the Justice parking lot once they were prepped. The conveyors were strapped to the trailers, along with our radio mast. A welded metal shield placed on top, near the front, of each first trailer, created an impromptu firing position for each grain truck. This was a last-minute add-on, which I approved of wholeheartedly.
Lightweight plywood boxes containing the bulk of our grain buckets and containers were mounted on top of both tandem trailers. The boxes didn't stick up very far, but between them and the firing positions, we needed to be mindful of overpass clearances.
We parked the more lethal gear in the Valley. Two Humvees, one with a Ma Deuce and the other with an M240b, were coming with us along with two pickup trucks and one school bus. Each pickup and the Humvees had a ninja mounted to one of its charging harnesses.
The four loose ninjas for the first group of scouts were ready to go. Joel was still prepping the flatbed roof conveyor truck in front of the armory.
It bulged with fuel barrels stacked on pallets, the tractor, a generator, plus containers filled with tools, electrical gear, plus belts, pulleys, gears, winches, chain, cable. We brought plenty of shovels and scoops along with pallets, sheets of plywood, tarps, and duct tape. If we had to breach one of the bins and load each bucket by hand, I intended to complete our objective, by brute force if necessary. We were ready and eager to get on with it.
Since I placed few restrictions on the support gear Joel could bring, losing that conveyor flatbed would hurt the Valley's future operations. I felt it was worth the risk, if it reduced our time spent loading the grain. The more we mechanized that operation,
the shorter our time on target.
I drew the line at bringing Jimmy, the talented mechanic from the Arkansas crew. For one, he had no combat training with our team. While spending months on the road marked him as a survivor, it didn't qualify him for a combat role on an offensive mission. That was my official reason for denying Joel's request. I also knew that the Valley needed Jimmy's mechanical skills for the planting season, especially if Joel was injured.
Roger and Aaron eased my mind about stripping all the Betas and Gammas from Valley defense. It felt like overkill to bring everyone, but we needed the manpower. Even with jerry-rigged conveyors, moving that much grain had to be labor-intensive. While I hoped the locals would just let us load up and drive away, arriving with a large group of heavily armed troops might persuade the locals to choose discretion over fighting.
While I preferred to drop-in, load the grain, and return to base without any shots fired, we prepared for opposition in depth. The site's proximity to Fort Campbell, Clarksville, and cities in Kentucky could mean nothing, or it could mean serious opposition. I couldn't allow another well-armed group to get the drop on us. No one would forget the lesson of Zinc Plant bridge.
What Jules and I saw at the roadblocks near the granary left me uneasy. The locals clearly had enough people to hold more than one roadblock. They had snipers and would kill to defend their position.
We wouldn't know until we got there. The lack of intel was uncomfortable, but just part of the new reality. A dated auto-club map instead of real-time satellite images.
Ben was the only Ranger remaining behind. I hated losing Ben's wood ninja skills, but his ribs just weren't up to the trip. Dwayne, Grady, and three other soldiers from the Arkansas bunch were coming with us. Sean, one of Grady's men, stayed behind, still recovering from his gunshot wounds.
That left us with 44 trained shooters on this operation, counting me. The dogs were staying behind, too raw and untamed for combat. Their handlers still groused about leaving them. Dwayne squelched the complainers, reminding them the pups were still a major liability, not just to the mission, but they could easily get themselves or our soldiers killed.
We planned to leave before first light. That gave everyone time to relax and prepare in their own way. It wasn't that different from a military deployment. Everyone around us acted like tomorrow would just be another day. The brittle façade cracked ever so slightly with an unguarded look or touch. An extra spoonful of fruit on my supper plate.
My girls skipped their nightly visit to the rec room. Jennifer sat on the arm of my chair, while Melissa tucked herself into my lap. Both were now seeing Dr. Kyle at least two times a week. Melissa seemed her normal bubbly self, but Jennifer was quieter, more introspective, since the kidnapping.
Even Melissa struggled to cope, despite her outward cheery disposition. The nightmares were back. I woke up most mornings with her tucked into a ball beside me. We shared a room, and I was in no hurry to change that. Before the crash, I might have worried about whether it was appropriate, now it just felt safer.
My sister Alice added a bunk bed and lockers for them into the room shared by her girls after I announced we weren't returning to our house. No one was ready to move out of my room, yet.
For now, I'd bask in the antics of goats and chickens. And celebrate Jennifer's new pull-up record.
"Do you have to go?" Melissa whispered in my ear. Jennifer tensed; I knew she heard the question.
"It is my job," I answered, hugging them both tight.
"But why? Uncle Alex never goes on missions. Uncle Steve only goes to Justice. Why can't someone else go?"
Before the kidnapping, I always told them I left to keep them safe. Now those words felt like sawdust in my mouth.
"Everyone does their part for the Valley," I said. "I'm a Ranger. You know what that means, right?"
"Yeah, Rangers lead the way," Melissa recited.
"All the way," Jennifer added.
"It means I can't stay home and let others fight in my place. You know the Ranger's creed."
"I don't want to be a Ranger," Melissa said. "I don't want you to be a Ranger, either."
"I intend to be a Ranger," Jennifer said, at almost the same time.
Melissa whirled around to glare at her sister. "You can't be a Ranger. I won't let you."
"You can't stop me."
Part of me was happy to have Melissa focus her ire at someone else, but the parent in me couldn't let this continue.
"Hey, there is no reason to fight over this. I must go on a mission for a few days, but I'm taking a lot of help. Grandma and grandpa will take care of you, while I'm gone. We've done this before; you know how this works."
"I'll protect Melissa, while you are gone," Jennifer said, the resolve strong in her voice. "Don't worry Melissa, I won't let anyone hurt you."
I didn't doubt her. There was a strength in her that belied her years. She was still a few years younger than Joe, but I could already see the mantle of maturity. We were still trying to give the kids in the Valley some aspect of childhood. These efforts were stymied by the burden of hard work now with the added stress of death, shootouts, and kidnappings.
Our kids were lucky. Much luckier than they knew. Even the Arkansas group finally found a safe haven, where food was plentiful, and danger was at arm's length.
Safety inside the wire was an illusion, as we moved into the spring after the crash. We were safe now, but humans were adaptable. I could imagine the types who would prevail after 90 percent of those around them died. Some would try to build community, but I knew they would be preyed on by the strong and ruthless.
We had already witnessed a microcosm of it in Mecklin County. And conditions here were a walk in the park compared to more populated areas. I suspected that survivors from populated areas would have to be ruthless, without gentleness or compassion. This region was still in the honeymoon stage.
In Africa, a decade of drought-caused starvation led to warlords, children soldiers, and worse. Tribe versus tribe. What would America's tribes be? Ethnicity, location, or something else? For now, it was a resource grab, on the Memphis waterfront, in Helena, and to be honest here in Mecklin County.
When strong groups began running out of resources, we would be pressed to protect our own. Life would be cheap. While luck and early resources would help, natural selection would weed out the foolhardy and those failing to adapt. Much of life would favor ruthless and cunning predators.
Could those we protect in the Valley adapt soon enough to this new cutthroat reality? Would compassion be a major weakness? I feared that a big lifeboat with tons of resources would not be enough. We learned the hard way that not all dangers come from outside our defensive walls. Dark thoughts as I faced another separation from those closest to my heart.
I clung to my girls and rocked them until they nodded off. My dad and I carried them to bed and tucked them in.
Mom, dad, and I settled back into the family room. I didn't want to leave things strained between us, but didn't know what to say. After too long in pained silence, I started to get up.
"Wait, Jeremy," my mom said. "Securing this grain is the right thing to do. This is a small gamble for a huge potential gain. I might not have supported it at first, but my mind isn't in a very good place. I'm no different than Melissa, I want someone who isn't my family to go. I also know that for you, your men are part of your family. You can't send them off to fight somewhere you aren't willing to go. Just come back. I don't think I could make it if you don't." The stricken look on her face pulled me from my chair. In a heartbeat, I was beside her on the couch, hugging her tightly.
My dad patted us both, unused to such raw emotion between us. I wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into a three-way hug.
My dad pulled away first, and before long, we were just three people sitting together on the couch. My mom was wiping her face with a handkerchief, and my dad was using his shirttail. I used my hand and wiped it on my pants.
"We w
ill be careful and take no crazy risks," I said. "That is why I'm taking everyone. I am more worried about leaving the Valley with too few defenders."
"Roger and I have that covered," Aaron said. "Justice is sending the kids to the Valley for the duration, and everyone will be on high alert until you get back."
"Loading the grain in the trailers will be the critical path. The only real bottleneck between here and the granary is the bridge at Celina, and we've already been through there twice. At least this time, there should be no flooding on the ride to Port Royal," I said, attempting to change the tone. "I sure miss not having weather forecasts."
"Yeah, farming will be a bitch without them," Aaron said. "Pops would be giving me a hard time about relying on forecasts. He put a lot more stock in how his knee felt and the behavior of animals. Just one more thing we will have to relearn."
