Lone Survivor (Book 3): All That Escapes

by Hunt, Jack

  “Well that’s unfortunate. Though I imagine there are towns across the states like us. We don’t consider ourselves any better. We were just a little more prepared than maybe others were.”

  “And yet you still have this large cache of food after all these months. I would have thought by now discord, jealousy, greed would have at least got the better of the people in this town.”

  She nodded and took another sip. Her relaxed demeanor seemed out of place in a country that had been torn apart by violence at the hands of desperate people. “I didn’t say we didn’t have problems, Landon. Four doors down from here an entire family was murdered for what they had.”

  “The bodies in the shed?”

  She nodded.

  “Why haven’t you buried them?”

  “Because they are there as a warning to any others.”

  He frowned. “What? I don’t understand. Are you saying these people were the result of a home invasion, and you didn’t bury them?”

  “I think you have misunderstood. That family weren’t the victims. They were the perpetrators.” She paused and studied him as if gauging his reaction as he processed what she was saying.

  “You’re telling me the community killed them?”

  “The community dealt with the situation.”

  “You couldn’t have just exiled them from town.”

  “And risk having them return? They killed, covered it up and lied because of greed.”

  “But killing, how does that make you any better than them?”

  She smiled and glanced at Beth who was listening intently. “Do you believe in capital punishment, Landon?”

  “I think it has its place in a society with a fair justice system.”

  “Then this is no different.”

  There was a long pause as he contemplated it. “But in all those cases, those punished are judged, and go through the justice system.”

  “That system doesn’t exist. And, even when it did, there were those who got away with murder. The fact is, that system was created by people determining what was right based on rules, regulations, human rights and so on. I’m afraid in this new world, Landon, we don’t have the luxury or even the time for that. Jailing people is a thing of the past. From what you’ve told me of your journey, you know yourselves… split second decisions must be made for people to survive.” She rose from the table with her cup in hand, went over to the sink, placed it in a bowl of soapy water and began washing it. “No one in this town goes without. No one has more than anyone else and that includes people like myself who oversee decisions.”

  “Are you the mayor?”

  “No.”

  “Chief of police?”

  She chuckled. “Far from it.”

  “Then why do you get to decide?”

  “I don’t…” she said, turning. “All decisions go through a group of twelve council members. These are people that have already proven themselves in the community. People that residents trust.” She took a deep breath. “In the five and a half months since the blackout only two families have been murdered in Pawling. The one that was stolen from, and the one that stole. And that was within the second month. Since then we have operated with zero murders. If that is not a testimony, I don’t know what is. The workload is shared. Food is equally shared. No one goes without. So far it’s worked.”

  “And yet we breached your town. Surely others have too. So what’s the point of a blockade?”

  “You didn’t breach. We allowed you in.”

  Landon looked at Beth, then his gaze slowly shifted back to Abigail. He tightened his grip on the gun beneath the table. She smiled as if knowing what he was thinking. “Don’t worry, Landon, it’s not like that. Could we have walled off the town by now? Perhaps but the labor, the time would have been extensive and for what? What message would that send to roving gangs? Walls are built to protect. Protect what? We might as well have raised a sign saying… we have food… come and get it.” She snorted. “No. We aimed to portray our town like any other town in the area. The blockades on the roads are there to stop vehicles. It’s pretty basic security. The population here, minus those who left, is just over one thousand. We work together. There are shifts that rotate every four hours, and everyone gets two days off a week. So… along with a cache of food built up over the past three years we have more than enough incentive for people to continue to work together. No one is forcing a gun to anyone’s head. No one refuses to help.”

  “And yet we got in.”

  She smiled. “I told you. If we refused you entry, how will others learn?”

  It was a lot for Landon to take in. Since North Carolina they had yet to pass through a town that wasn’t empty, destroyed or under the rule of violent, scared and desperate people. There was no time to fathom how a town like this could operate and yet it wasn’t outside the realm of common sense. Some towns would fare better than others if they had strong leadership.

  “That’s all well and good,” Landon said. “But you had a cache of food for these people. Most of the towns we have ventured into didn’t. They were unprepared. There was no council who had set aside food for a rainy day. My question to you is, what happens when the food runs out?”

  “It won’t.”

  Landon leaned back in his seat, finding it all a little too amusing. “Go ahead. I’d like to hear this.”

  “How are other towns surviving if they don’t have food?”

  “They hunt.”

  “Exactly. The only advantage we have right now is our community hasn’t suffered hunger yet. We aren’t just sitting back on our laurels and eating our way through this cache of food. We know eventually it will run out so in the meantime we have crews that go out and hunt in the surrounding woodland, and fish in the lakes. Meat is brought back, and preserved. Most of it turned into jerky. The fish is cooked. So, in answer to your question. When the initial cache of food runs out, we will have more than enough to continue. And by then our community will have got used to hunting and gathering. That is if the lights stay off. For all we know they may come back on.” Before he could laugh at that she added, “And yet I know that may be asking too much. But I’ve always considered myself optimistic.”

  Landon shook his head. “Five and a half months and you haven’t had people try to attack this community?”

  “Look at our location, Landon. We are in the middle of nowhere. Visitors are far and few between. Most of the trouble we have encountered has been stopped at the checkpoints. We have enough people in town to handle an attack, and more than enough roaming the streets to spot strangers… like yourself.” She finished washing her dish and placed it on the counter. “Now things could have gone another way had you not walked into my house.”

  “I guess we’re lucky then.”

  “You could say that. Come, when you are done, I’ll give you a tour of the town. Perhaps it will give you ideas for Castine when you return.” She headed over to the door and picked up a blue jean jacket off a hook and shrugged into it.

  “You said you live alone,” he said making a gesture to her wedding band.

  She lifted her hand. “Oh, this. Right. Yes. My husband was away on business when the blackout happened. He never returned.”

  She opened the front door and beckoned them out.

  Grizzly bounded out, wagging his tail.

  “Don’t get used to it,” Beth told him. He jumped up at her and she ruffled his hair.

  As they ventured out into the bright sunshine, Landon took in the sight of groups with rifles slung over their shoulders patrolling the neighborhood.

  “That must have been hard on you,” he said.

  “Yes and no. Yes, because I care for him but no because we were in the early stage of getting divorced.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Landon said.

  “Ah. It’s fine. It wasn’t infidelity. We just became two very different people. That’s the only good thing that came out of this blackout. No more lawyer meetings,” she said
, chuckling. She waved to a group and they returned the gesture.

  Landon gave a nod towards them. “How many groups patrolling?”

  “This neighborhood or the entire town?” Abigail walked with her hands clasped behind her back. She lifted her nose sniffing the fresh air.

  “The town.”

  “A hundred groups spread out through the north, east, west and south. Around four hundred people but that doesn’t include those at the checkpoints. They operate in groups of four and stay within close proximity to at least two other groups just in case. We also have throughout town those we call watchers. The one that saw you was a watcher. They’re positioned in homes throughout the town. Their job is to observe and notify the groups patrolling.”

  Landon nodded. “Don’t they get tired?”

  “Like I said, they only do this for four hours. With over a thousand people in town helping, twenty-four hours fills up very quickly. There are those that choose to do more and so they’ll take on an extra shift but it’s not mandatory. We thought that sticking to four hours would prevent burnout. So far people accept it. I know that sounds strange but this community has become closer because of the blackout. When you are out there walking beside three other people, you soon bond with your neighbor.”

  Landon smiled. “I have to admit. What you have managed to do in such a short time is impressive.”

  She cocked her head and pulled a face. “I guess so. It’s not like the residents were strangers to begin with. Obviously some of them were but the community has always been a tight-knit group. We made it very clear to everyone involved what would be required but also what they would receive in return. Besides the one family who decided that wasn’t enough, we’ve fared well.”

  They passed by homes where children were out playing. Abigail waved to a few people. If he wasn’t aware of the blackout he wouldn’t have even thought that the country was going through an event. Besides a few homes that had been broken into, there weren’t any signs of violence, at least on the level of what they’d seen along their travels.

  “I noticed a few homes had windows smashed. Are you still getting crime?” he asked.

  “We are looking into that. Like I said, this place is far from perfect but under the circumstances I think we are doing a good job.”

  “Seems that way.” He smiled at her and she continued giving them a tour with the promise of refilling their supplies and sending them on their way with full bellies. Landon had to pinch himself a few times. It was a stark contrast to what they’d just come through, and a welcome one at that. For the first time in months he felt a spark of hope.

  12

  The FEMA rep, David Harris, unfolded the map and stared at the three counties he’d been assigned: Penobscot, Waldo and Hancock. He expected to face resistance following the imposition of martial law in the United States but with the support of the military he figured they would prevail and prevent conflict.

  He was wrong.

  The successful attack on a convoy coming out of Belfast had marked the beginning of a new set of challenges. They would need to rethink, adapt and tackle this threat fast before the militia group incited a rebellion. Control had been at the forefront of his mind when he was given his orders five and a half months ago. FEMA had tried to train them for such an event but no amount of training could prepare anyone for this.

  Numerous camps had been set up throughout the country. His team operated out of one erected south of Bangor, north of Bucksport and to the east of Brewer Lake in a huge space of farmland referred to as Perkins Orchard. The location was pivotal to ensure a steady flow of water and easy access to all three counties. The camp itself was the size of three city blocks with row upon row of tents, and several larger ones for the military and FEMA officials.

  Contrary to conspiracy theories, they were not looking to imprison U.S. citizens or create labor camps. To do so would have been a major undertaking and would have led to an uprising, and with more civilians than military, establishing order would have been near impossible. However, since martial law had been declared he couldn’t help but see them heading down that slippery slope. Actions by militia would give them few options. He was well aware that word had begun to spread that the military was going to disarm Americans, conduct warrantless searches, detain combatants, invade and assert sovereignty, block off cities and turn them into a giant concentration camp, hold Americans inside, confiscate property, food and essentials and prevent citizens from free speech, peaceable assemblies and petitioning against the government for grievances. But those were not his orders. His orders had been clear from the get-go, they were to provide emergency support and assistance to all U.S. residents in the form of food, water, medication, clothing, shelter, security and public safety.

  The trouble was their ability to meet the people’s needs was reliant on compliance by communities in key areas. For him that meant working closely with coastal towns and the military to ensure a steady flow of supplies to those inside the camp.

  That task was easier said than done.

  Not everyone was on board with helping.

  That’s why he’d personally gone to each and every town along the coast of the three counties to speak with town managers and discuss people contributing to the effort.

  Was it a lot to ask?

  By the reactions of the people, obviously.

  Of course he’d considered sending some of his own people to fish at these designated communities but that would have drastically affected the camp’s ability to stay on top of the influx and needs of those here. They didn’t have the resources for that, all of which led them to try an agreement with town councils. Some had taken them up on it and were glad to help, others not so. Belfast had been one of the first to turn their nose up at their request. They could have let it slide but if they did that with one town, others would have followed suit. No. They had no other choice than to send in the military and enforce martial law. He’d given them fair warning. More than enough time to think over the offer. And he was fair. The initial agreement was for 50 percent of fish the community caught, but after they outright refused, he’d given the military the go-ahead to disarm citizens to avoid bloodshed.

  It should have worked.

  It hadn’t.

  The last he’d heard from Colonel Lukeman was that a team of his men had been ambushed and all the supplies including weapons had been taken back. Harris got up and poured himself a coffee from a thermos and took a seat at his desk. The tent he was staying in was basic. One section of the tent had military cots for sleeping and the other side held desks. Everything was being done by hand. Reports. Map work. Schedules. Tasks. They had several large A-frame boards with paperwork attached, photos of combatants and a list of to-dos. The flooring was 18-ounce vinyl-coated nylon that hooked to a rope inside the walls to provide an elevated perimeter so water didn’t enter. It was far from luxurious but it was lightweight, durable and extremely easy to assemble. Surrounding the camp itself was chain-link fencing.

  “Mr. Harris.”

  David looked up from his desk. Lukeman was standing in the doorway of the tent.

  “Come in, colonel.” He leaned back in his chair. “What’s the update?” he asked.

  Colonel Lukeman was every bit a soldier. Six foot two, granite jaw, buzzed blond hair, and wearing army fatigues, he carried himself with a confidence that only came from being in the trenches of war. “No one will say anything. The community of Belfast denies receiving their supplies back, however, our informant was adamant that’s what occurred. Militia told them to bury their weapons and refuse to fish.”

  “They won’t fish?”

  “Our informant reported they are fishing farther south.”

  “So, you have sent men to collect?”

  “Well that’s the thing. Now they’re fighting back.”

  “What?” he stammered.

  “We’ve lost two of our men. We sent a group of ten in and only eight returned alive. They came under hea
vy gunfire.”

  “From militia?”

  “No. From the people.”

  Harris looked down at his desk. “This is not good. Not good at all. We need to get on top of this and fast. They’re inspiring the people. If we don’t put a stop to it other towns will follow.”

  “And yet if we kill Americans, we are liable to start a war.”

  “We are already at war, colonel. A war for survival.” He got up from his seat and walked over to the A-frame board and thumbed through some of the paperwork. “The government knew this would happen. The director of FEMA knew this would happen. I knew this would happen.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “What we have done in Castine. Have the Belfast informant gather together a large group they trust to enforce martial law. Let them do the dirty work.”

  “Belfast is six times the population of Castine.”

  “And? Do you wish for your men to die? Right now they see us as a threat and they are more than willing to kill us in order to keep what they have. But will they kill their own? That raises a moral and ethical dilemma.”

  “That’s risky.”

  “No more than putting your guys in the line of fire. Our job is to keep this camp afloat. If we stand back and do nothing, tomorrow one town will become two, then three and before we know it, all the coastal communities will refuse to assist.”

  “Why not just send in one of our group to fish?”

  “Really, colonel? You want to send in the military to fish?”

  “I didn’t say the military. I said the people that are here in the camp,” he said in an abrasive tone. “Is it really our responsibility to care for all their needs? Perhaps this way we can avoid bloodshed.”

  “Maybe. Maybe you’re right. However, think about how that will look. You heard what that deputy said in Castine. They already think we are creating a forced labor camp. Do you really want to give them reason to oppose us? Because that’s all we need right now.”