To the Rescue; Surviving the Black--Book 2 of a Post-Apocalyptical Series

by Zack Finley

“I’ll let him know, how can he bring her in without getting shot?” Murph asked.

  “Call ahead on the CB is the best way and leave your long gun behind with someone. Pistols and knives don’t bother us, but long guns might nick one of us,” Matt said. “Waving a white flag and raising your hands can help defuse a lot.”

  “I’ll pass the word,” said Murph. “We don’t have much to trade?”

  “Medical supplies are community property,” I said. “As is the rest of the stuff the sheriff’s people squirreled away, so no trade required. I doubt Dr. Jerrod will want anything to help the girl.”

  “That is a relief,” Murph said.

  “Don’t count on any feel-good drugs, though,” Buzzer said. “Those deputies and Allen’s thugs wiped out anything narcotic and a lot more besides.”

  “Do you all have any food to spare?” Murph asked.

  “No,” I said. “Everyone in our organization, including the kids over the age of six, work from sunup to sundown every day doing something to help our survival. That is how we eat. You’ve already seen the lengths we will go through to eliminate threats. That said, we’d prefer some good people live through this winter. We suggest you form a co-op of like-minded neighbors. It is easier to heat one house than five.”

  “We’ve already consolidated,” Murph said.

  “We’ve noticed people are still waiting for help to come. No one is coming to your rescue. You and your families will starve in the next six months if you don’t work your asses off to live,” I said. “Game is still plentiful, and there are fish in the rivers, lakes, and ponds. If you aren’t working every hour of every day to feed your families, you aren’t trying hard enough.”

  His attitude stopped me from offering some chicks and even rabbits, as I realized my mom was right. We couldn’t afford to help people just looking for a handout. I didn’t regret offering to help his friend’s sick kid, but I wondered how many would still be alive in a few more months. It wasn’t even January.

  “What do you think will happen around here when a bunch of starving people shows up from out of town? Protecting our families will become harder and harder to do,” I said.

  I went back to get the stove with Phil at my heels. I left Matt and Buzzer talk with Murph. We had work to do.

  Phil and I had the first stove in the back of Buzzer’s pickup when Murph ran off into the rain.

  I found a semi-clean rag and attempted to remove as much soot from my face as possible. From the look on Phil’s face, I probably shouldn’t have bothered.

  “Boss, Murph didn’t mean it like that,” Buzzer said.

  “Didn’t mean what?” I asked.

  “Murph knew we sometimes brought eggs and milk for the middle school, he just thought…”

  “He just thought that meant we had extra and could now give him some,” I snapped. “He looks like he is still eating well enough.”

  “Aren’t we gonna help these people?” Buzzer asked.

  “If facing starvation isn’t enough motivation for these people to do everything they can to feed their families, they won’t live through this mess. Some people are going to do everything they can, but it won’t be enough,” I said.

  “But boss, just because you and your dad did all that preparing, we are pretty well off. Why can’t we share with them?” Buzzer asked.

  “Because we don’t have enough for everyone. We will never have enough extra to save everyone. That is why we have limited admission to family and adopted family,” I said. “With few exceptions, we all tithed part of our salary to accumulate the materials and food supplies we have.”

  Buzzer started to talk, but Matt put his hand on Buzzer’s shoulder.

  “Boss, he just thinks Murph is a good guy,” Matt said. “What’s the harm in helping him?”

  “Do you think he and the other adults in his home are doing everything they can to eke out their food supply?” I asked.

  “Probably not,” said Matt.

  “Our future in this mudball of a planet relies on the survivors being doers, not takers. Those who adjust soon enough have a chance at survival, no guarantee mind you but a chance. While the speculation that up to 90 percent of Americans would die following a grid collapse was greeted with doubt, no one knows what it will be. As we’ve already seen in Huntsville, so far most haven’t died from starvation, they’ve died from violence,” I offered. “A decade before the crash less than two out of every 100 Americans were directly involved in agriculture. That means 98 percent of our population has to find a way to become farmers, or hunters, or trappers. Or they won’t eat.”

  “Someone can come back another day and pick up our solar system,” I said, heading for the Humvee.

  We escorted Matt and Buzzer back and drove to check in with Jerry Hill. His business making big rig trailers was one of the area’s largest employers, at least before the crash.

  The once white tee shirt we were using for a white flag was drooped into a sodden mass on the antenna. It just wasn’t worth removing. I had Razor drive us up to the front door of the place. Everything was dark, despite the extensive solar power system I knew they had.

  I got on the loudspeaker. “Jerry Hill, this is Jeremy Breckinridge, I’d like to talk with you.” I was sure those in the building were watching us, but Jerry was probably not standing by waiting for my call.

  “Jerry Hill, we have a message from Aaron Breckinridge. He says, ‘Armageddon,’” I said. “Our flag of truce got too wet, or we’d be waving it.”

  As usual, the fucking defroster on the Humvee was not working and spotting an approaching threat through the windows was getting very difficult.

  I had already picked up the mic for the last attempt when one of the warehouse doors opened partially.

  It closed as we started toward it, so I suspected it was just a signal. It got our attention. Razor was relaxed behind the wheel. Phil was in the back, and we all had our heads on swivels watching our sectors. “If anyone moves to block our way out, get us out of here, don’t wait for me to say something,” I said, wishing I’d brought a second unit to keep my exit clear.

  Despite our caution, the only thing that happened was a people door opened at the active bay. Jerry Hill was in the doorway standing out of the rain. I told my guys to wait as I purposefully left my M4 in the cab and got out.

  Jerry ushered me into an empty pod.

  “Sorry for the lack of greeting, I wanted to make sure you weren’t part of the sheriff’s cabal,” Jerry said. “Last time I saw you guys, you were all lovey-dovey with them.”

  “Well, we think the sheriff and county mayor were killed by one of the deputies just after the static cleared. Whoever was left murdered the seniors holed up in the middle school and made us mad,” I said. “The ringleader got away in the fight, but we’re looking for him.” I handed Jerry one of the leaflets.

  “Makes sense,” Jerry said, “That Allen guy was always trouble. What brings you here?”

  “I’m gathering intel and trying to find out what is happening in the region,” I said. “We were concentrating on getting things ready on the farm and weren’t watching the things going on in town.”

  Jerry looked like he just bit into a lemon, clearly not buying what I was offering.

  “Right,” Jerry said, dragging the word out. “We haven’t heard much from around here. I thought the sheriff turned on the townspeople. I’m glad to hear he wasn’t part of that. May he rest in peace. We got a cryptic note from them about three weeks ago, telling us to give them all our food or we’d regret it. I knew we’d regret giving them any food. We’ve been waiting for them to return.”

  “Sorry, I thought you might be their next salvo,” Jerry said. His tone was not quite as hostile as before. “We have no idea what is going on in Oneida. There seems to be a grudge match underway over that Walmart. They are so focused on that luscious prize they are ignoring anything else.”

  “We may be expanding the roadblocks,” I said. “My dad suggested you
would have some suggestions about where.”

  “I’ve got an excellent map of this region in my office, let me show you the places I’d block to keep the better guys in and the worse guys out.

  “I want to block Highway 29 at the Mecklin River to the south,” I suggested.

  “I totally agree, I tried to talk the sheriff into that before, but he balked,” Jerry said.

  “Have you heard anything from around the state?” I asked “The HAM network is pretty sporadic. We have indications the grid collapsed worldwide. Last we heard California was burning. Best we can tell everyone is trying to survive. Nothing at all from the government.”

  “We’ve stayed up here, trying to keep out of sight, out of mind,” Jerry said. “The next time one of your group comes, give us a 30-minute warning to call sign ‘Armageddon’ on channel 20. We are finally going to block us off from others using our trailers. They aren’t going to do us much good where they are. You can take what you need to block some roads.”

  Jerry ushered me into his office. He picked up a sheaf of maps being held together with a blueprint hanging clamp.

  Jerry opened a satellite image of the region north of Huntsville. He pointed several locations to the north where a single trailer could block the entire roadway. The lack of Mecklin River bridges limited the routes from south and west. With closure of the Mecklin River bridge on Highway 29 and the other closures Jerry placed in the days after the crash he thought we were in good shape, but only after we made it difficult for people coming this way from Oneida.

  “My dad wanted me to ask you if you need anything?” I asked.

  “Not now,” Jerry said, “But I suspect that will change as we move into spring.”

  I mentioned placing leaflets in the rural areas around Huntsville, but that was of little interest to him.

  Just as I was closing my parka to go back out into the rain, Jerry said, “Don’t forget to drop off a few leaflets in the Winona area.” We shook hands, and I slipped out the door.

  Razor had the Humvee parked to move, and Phil was riding shotgun. I got in the back seat, and we peeled out.

  Odd, I hadn’t thought about Winona in years. Then I remembered some comments from high school. There was a small group of Mormons living quietly in Winona. Jerry Hill was also a Mormon. For Mormons, it was a matter of religion to stockpile a year’s worth of essentials. In the Tennessee Bible Belt, they frequently kept a low profile.

  Our excursion was cut short when Scott called on our encrypted radios to advise the recon team could use a ride in.

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter 3

  We met Ben, Pete, and Joel where the power lines crossed the old County Garage Road. They were sitting on a pair of old stumps. More than a path and less than a roadway disappeared into the brush, tall weeds, and saplings beside them marking the powerline right-of-way.

  We stashed their packs in the back and squeezed together in the cab.

  We learned the right-of-way offered good cover and reasonable travel during the daytime, but they preferred the railroad for speedy nighttime travel.

  We headed straight back to the Valley. I’d warned Scott we wanted to get some hot food into these guys. He offered to escort today’s workgroup back to the Valley. I agreed.

  On the way, Ben briefed us about their findings.

  “The guys monitoring the Walmart haven’t seen anyone going in or going out of it for weeks,” Ben said. “That building is huge, I doubt they’d really know. Something went down about two weeks ago. The people watching got up some nerve and hauled off the generator. Apparently, those inside let down their guard that night.”

  “Who is keeping the cops pinned up in the Walmart?” I asked.

  “It is a loose group of firefighters, two guys from public works and a handful from the American Legion,” Ben answered. “They’ve been demanding the police give up the Walmart and leave town. No one knows how much food Walmart still has, but the people outside want it.”

  “How likely are the cops to leave Walmart?” I asked.

  “I get the impression the group inside is cold and miserable. They have no fuel and water is scarce. They may be ready to break out,” Ben said.

  “What about the rest of Oneida?” I asked.

  “Lots of looting. Smashed windows and a lot of ruined stuff,” Ben said. “I got the impression people looted before they really realized the kinds of stuff they’d need to survive. With all the cops in the Walmart, no one stepped forward to stop it. I also heard everyone was putting so much emphasis on the Walmart they let a lot of refrigerated and frozen food ruin in the restaurants and other facilities across town.”

  “Most of the new houses were heated by natural gas, so when the pressure dropped, no heat,” Ben said. “The early days weren’t too bad, but as it got colder, a lot of people left their homes. Some moved in with neighbors, some went to stay with families, some just left. The firefighter I talked to thinks everyone who was going to leave has left already. Nobody has any gas. Some people got fried when they were trying to pull gasoline out of one of the gas stations. Big explosion and the fire took down half a block.”

  Joel added, “A lot of people didn’t have anywhere else to go. You can be sure if a car is parked it doesn’t have any gas. It either ran out, or somebody siphoned it. After the fire, nobody is eager to take gas from the gas stations.”

  The recon team spotted at least 50 homes, and 20 commercial buildings burned to the ground. In one area an entire apartment complex was a blackened ruin. They couldn’t tell if it happened due to accidents or arson. A few were still smoldering.

  “Woodstoves are rare in Oneida. In Huntsville, there aren’t many, but one or two houses in each neighborhood have them,” said Ben. “Not as much solar in Oneida, either. I guess a lot of folks wish they’d taken Steve up on his offer. I think that is why a lot of the people left. I bet their families live in the country. One of the firemen I talked to estimated less than one-third of people who lived in Oneida was still there. But he had no real way of knowing.”

  “Anything going on at Mecklin County Hospital?” I asked.

  “It is cold and looted. I’m told they never expected the gas to go out, so there was no heat. I suspect that was the problem all over town,” Joel said. “We went by Zeke’s place. They trashed it, but we’d already emptied it out.”

  “There is a lot of stuff open to the weather being slowly ruined,” Ben added. “Seems a real shame. Especially the pharmacies and hospital.”

  “Where were the roadblocks?” I asked.

  “The one on Highway 27 is on the overpass north of town over the railroad,” Joel said. “I doubt any were ever manned. There is a trailer blocking TN-297 on the west side at Meadow Creek. Those are the only ones we could spot. They thought the sheriff was still watching south and east, based on what the firefighter told me. No one knew anything about happenings down here. Or cared.”

  “Oneida is no risk at this point,” Ben said. “They started down a bad road from the beginning and never recovered. I understand a lot of people in Oneida have family on small farms and homesteads, I hope that helps them all survive. I saw nothing that could pose a threat to one of our armed Humvees, and four of us with smoke could clear the Walmart if we wanted to. My biggest worry is that they will burn it to the ground. All those wasted resources in Oneida are a concern of mine. We’ll need them in a few years.”

  “Norfolk-Southern must have stopped several trains in the Oneida railyard either just before or just after the crash,” Joel said. “I don’t know what is in all those rail cars, but it is probably worth salvaging at some point. It might be worth the diesel to start one of those train engines up and haul all the railcars down here.”

  “They completely abandoned the railyard soon after the crash,” Ben said. “We checked a fuel truck, parked near the yard office and it was still mostly full. We left it because we still had a lot of areas left to recon.”

  “There are plenty of full tank c
ars and some coal cars,” said Pete. “The rest was mostly boxcars with only a few of those piggyback units. Most of the boxcar doors were sealed, so we didn’t look inside.”

  “Everyone acted aimless,” Joel declared. “I heard nearly everyone had the trots, people weren’t boiling water. They are cold, hungry, and sick. There was no organization, no sense of purpose. The closest thing to a goal we could tell was to make sure the cops didn’t benefit from taking their Walmart. If a group had gotten a little organized, they could have salvaged a lot more from the rest of town. People are counting on help coming. I asked what they knew about the crash. About half heard the president’s speech. Most think the recovery is lagging here because we are so rural. I tried floating the idea this was a global problem, and they just thought I was some conspiracy nut! I doubt they will be much help.”