War Dogs Trilogy: Wounded Warriors of the Apocalypse

by AJ Newman

  Maria searched his pockets and found several documents. One contained the names of several of the group’s leaders, Maria’s, and mine. The man was a traitor and a plant placed in the group. I was glad Dad had convinced the leaders that we shouldn’t give out our locations to each other until trust was developed.

  I had a hard time trusting anyone back then.

  It took a few minutes for the room to calm down. Since we had called the meeting, I asked everyone to introduce themselves and give a brief description of their group. I got the impression most of the group leaders exaggerated their numbers and the current situation.

  It was my turn to tell them about our group. “We have a little less than a thousand trained fighters, Abrams tanks, and F56 Stealth fighters. We also have enough food to feed the entire world. We…”

  One of the other leaders said, “That’s bullshit,” and another started talking.

  I said, “My numbers are about as accurate as the BS most of you are trying to feed us. You don’t have to embellish your group’s strengths to the rest of us. If most of you were as strong as you suggest, you wouldn’t need the rest of us. Now, let’s do this again. Our group has thirty-four adults and six children too young to fight. We have an abundant food supply from our crops but need medicine and ammunition. We also need cows, pigs, and chickens. Every person above twelve-years-old is trained to fight. Before you ask, yes, every woman is trained to fight.”

  Only one of the leaders sounded like he still embellished his group’s survival readiness on the second pass. Then it dawned on me I was the only leader who’d mentioned women trained to fight. “How many fighters do each of you have? Break it down to how many women and men. We have six men and twenty-eight women ready to fight.”

  Reality smacked us in the face. I had to pull the answers from all but one of the leaders. He proudly stated, “Of course our women are being trained to fight. We have three army veterans, and they’ve been training everyone above fourteen how to handle weapons and fight when needed. We also needed them to pull guard duty, since the men were getting worn out pulling twelve-hour stints watching over everyone.”

  Women outnumbered the men three to one, and most of the groups didn’t consider women to be fighters. Oh, they came up with a dozen reasons why women shouldn’t fight, but none of them were valid. This extremely pissed Kat, Maria, and Michelle off when they heard the feeble excuses.

  Maria stood up, wearing the same weapons and gear she’d worn in combat. Well, the AR looked like the latest model M4-Z1 rifle. Anyway, they all stopped talking when Maria cleared her throat. “I’m Sergeant Maria McGill, and I served with Sergeant Jason Walker over in the Middle East and all over Europe during the war against the Syrian Terror Front. I’ve killed hundreds of the enemy, some in hand-to-hand combat, and others with a 5.56 bullet to their guts. I don’t remember Jason worrying about me being a woman when I saved his life several times. Hell, he saved my ass too. You don’t have the numbers to survive without training the women.”

  Maria sat down, and Kat took her place. “Shame on you men. Our group is the only one with women in attendance at this crucial meeting. There’d probably be more men left alive if their women had fought along beside them like Jason and I do. I’m still learning, but I’m now proficient in hand-to-hand fighting, knife fighting, and can outshoot any man in this room.”

  One of the more vocal men against women fighters attempted to demonstrate how women weren’t suitable for fighting by attacking my beautiful pint-sized girlfriend. I’ll admit, he didn’t take her seriously when he made his move to tackle her, and then he found himself on his back with her knife at his throat, while he pleaded for mercy.

  Kat sheathed her knife and extended her hand to help him up from the floor. Suddenly, he yanked on her extended hand in an attempt to get the better of her. She whipped her body around and twisted his arm with both hands. She had her foot on his neck and twisted his arm until she made him cry uncle. Really, she made him say the word ‘uncle.’ His red face told the entire story. The big man had been defeated by a tiny woman who knew her shit. If that wasn’t enough, MMax had his arm held in his powerful teeth. I yelled, “MMax out!” and MMax released his grip but stood ready to attack again if necessary.

  The man begged. “Call your woman off! I said, uncle!”

  I replied. “She’s a soldier, not a dog. Ask her real nice, and she might not kick you in the balls when she lets you up.”

  Kat looked at the prone man and then the others. “I won’t kid you or try to make you believe that equally trained women and men can go toe-to-toe trading punches, but I’ll say if this guy had been the enemy, he would have been dead twice. I usually shoot the bastards before they can lay a hand on me.”

  Kat and MMax watched the man closely when Kat backed away. I stood up and walked toward Kat. “Men, I saved Kat from being attacked by an asshat the day we met. I tackled her and brought her to the ground, and MMax took the man down. She fought like a tiger and kicked me in the balls. I almost lost that fight and would’ve been killed, since she thought I was attacking her. Now, she’s my fiancée, and she hasn’t kicked me in the balls since. All of this occurred before she was trained to kill by our best trainer. Men, take our women warriors seriously. They could be the difference between you living or dying.”

  The leader with the most trained women asked, “Can we borrow your trainer that teaches knife and hand-to-hand combat to train our men and women? We need everyone to be good at all types of fighting.”

  The result was a successful meeting. We formed a Mutual Assistance Group (MAG), developed rules for trade between the groups, planned to cross-train all adults, and set up lines of communication. The communication was more like the Pony Express than cell phones. We would pass messages just like in grade school.

  The leaders of each group held a ‘leader’s only’ meeting to discuss how to find and deal with any more spies. This group was similar to Greg and Gwen’s group, in that they were averse to taking lethal action. We planned to meet again in a week. I knew what I would do with a spy.

  ☆

  Chapter 3

  The Walker farm - Walter Hill, Tennessee

  Life was tough after the lights went out. Things we took for granted were gone and not likely to come back. We could live without cell phones, video games, and an NBA star player’s basketball shoes, but the lack of medicine, clean water, and proper sanitation could kill all of us. While we were out meeting with other groups, our team back at home struggled to make our lives better.

  ***

  Jan heated the water for her bath using the fire pit in the back yard. The steaming hot bucketful of water only raised the water level by a half-inch. She dropped her gown to the floor and stepped into the cold water. Her skin crawled with goosebumps. She could tolerate anything but a cold bath. She made up her mind to do something to make life easier. She bathed and reminisced about her life with Zack and the kids back when they were young.

  She remembered the camping trips when Zack had hung up one of those solar heated shower bags for them to take showers. The main thing she remembered was that only the first person got hot water and not much of it. Jan was thankful to her dead husband for teaching Jason and Michelle so much about camping and working around the farm. Those skills would come in handy, she thought.

  The next day, Jan made a tour of the farm and the surrounding fields to clear her head and to help her prepare for a meeting on how to improve their chances of survival and living conditions. She mentally compared life on the farm now with life before TSHTF. She made extensive notes and listed numerous suggestions for improvement. Jan didn’t care if her improvements were possible; she just knew she wanted the work done, and the team would have to worry about how to get them accomplished.

  “Billie, we need hot water, electricity, and a way to heat our homes this winter,” Jan said.

  “I know that’s right. I froze my ass off last week. It would take several buckets of hot water to r
aise the temperature of the water in a tub. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’m only taking a full bath once a week. I just wash my privates and under my arms every night,” Billie said.

  “Zack always called that a whores bath, when we were young and camping without the kids,” Jan chuckled.

  Billie replied, “I have to kick Ross in the butt to get him to wash up every night. I’ve had to resort to stopping all amorous activities several times to get his attention. He stank and was getting used to the smell. The stench was a big turn off to me. I like clean men that don’t smell like a barnyard in bed with me.”

  Billie caught what she’d said to Jan, “I’m sorry.”

  Jan snickered to herself and didn’t respond to Billie’s statement. “Billie, I need you to help me prepare for a meeting to discuss how to improve our lives and ensure we survive.”

  “Sure, Jan, I would love to help. I think we probably need to have some potential solutions to help stir the brainstorming.”

  “Yes, that’s an excellent thought. Could you take the lead on comfort? You know, baths, heat for winter, cooling in the summer, that kind of stuff? I’ll work on generating electricity, clean water, and sanitation.

  Later that afternoon, Jan took Father James with her to look at the property east of them. The hills started on the east side of their property, and a lake that contained most of the runoff from up in the hills. The lake fed a spring that ran through the back of their property. Jan wondered if they could jury rig a pipe to bring water to the farm, and then if they could use the flowing water to turn a generator.

  They climbed the hillside following a well-worn path. It was late spring, and the rains had filled the lake to overflowing. Father James saw the concrete spillway and said, “This would be easy to make a wooden structure to block the spillway and divert the water to a trough containing a waterwheel that could turn the generator.”

  Jan agreed and said, “We need to find a quarter-mile of PVC pipe to send some of the water to a holding tank down by the farm. I know we can find a bunch of five-hundred to thousand-gallon plastic water tanks. If we place them on stilts, we can gravity feed the water to the house and the trailers.”

  Father James whispered, “Keep on talking but don’t look to your left. A young boy and woman are staring at us from the bushes,” then he loudly said, “You know we could paint some pipe black and place it in the sun. Then we can run water through the pipe to heat it.”

  Jan slowly moved her right hand to her pistol and said, “That’s a great idea. Couldn’t we also install iron or copper pipe around our fireplace to heat water for baths and washing dishes?”

  Jan continued talking as she moved toward the two, hiding in the bushes. She turned and raised her pistol. “I see you! Come on out with your hands up high!”

  The young lady walked out of the brush, followed by the boy. They were filthy and gaunt looking. The woman’s hair was stringy and matted. The boy’s clothes were tattered and dirty. They each had a backpack but no weapons besides a knife sticking from the woman’s belt.

  Jan used her gruffest voice. “Why are you on my property, and who are you?”

  The woman meekly answered. “This is my parent’s property. Jan, yours starts below the hill.”

  “Sydney, is that you? Where are your parents?”

  The lady said, “Yes, it’s me, Sydney and my son Jay. My dad was killed in a car wreck the day the war started. Mom died two weeks later. Jay and I have been hiding in the woods while we made our way home from Chattanooga. Jan, it’s terrible in the cities.”

  Jan asked, “What about your husband?”

  The boy looked up to his mom, who said, “I’m not married. How are Michael and Jason doing? I really didn’t get to know your daughter or husband.”

  The answer bothered Jan, but she didn’t say anything and reached into her pocket. She fished out a granola bar and then handed the bar to the boy, who grabbed it and ate as though he hadn’t eaten in a while.

  Jan said, “Zack was killed a short while ago by some thugs. Jason and Michelle are doing well and live here with us. Michael is lost somewhere up in Kentucky. We have his boy with us, but his wife and daughter were murdered by some drunken rednecks.”

  Jan saw Sydney staring at the food, pulled a piece of dried venison from her pocket, and gave it to Sydney. Sydney barely had unwrapped the paper towel from the meat before she sank her teeth into it. She stopped with a mouthful and said, “Thank you. It’s been several days since Jay had a meal.”

  Father James introduced himself. “I’m Father James. Why don’t you two come on over to Jan’s place and get cleaned up and rest a bit?”

  Jan added her thoughts. “There’s not much to eat at your parent’s home. It’s been scavenged several times by people passing through. Come on down the hill and stay with us a few days while you get your strength back.”

  Jan tried to find out how Syd and the boy had traveled from Europe to Tennessee, but she was evasive. She just kept asking questions about the community and about how many people were living with Jan. Father James tried to ask some leading questions and upset Syd. She said, “Please stop reminding me of those terrible days after the bombs fell. Jay and I just want to forget them.”

  Jan placed them in the last unoccupied trailer and had Billie help her take clothing, towels, and soap to them. Jan asked Billie to watch the trailer while she called a brief meeting with the rest of the community leaders.

  Jan said, “I called you together to let you know I invited a young woman and her son to join us for a few days. I know her and her parents. They lived on the hillside east of us in the largest mansion on this side of Nashville. Her dad was a big wig in the music industry. Her parents are dead, and she needs our help.”

  Sister Grace asked, “Would she be a good fit for our group? You know her.”

  Jan didn’t want to share everything she knew about Sydney. The child was a big surprise to Jan. “There’s something fishy about her popping up like this after being gone for seven or eight years. Her parents moved to France about then, and we lost track of them. I really didn’t know her and didn’t like her when they lived up the hill.”

  A few hours later, Jan gathered everyone who wasn’t on guard duty for her life improvement meeting. Jan saw Billie walk in the barn door. “How are Sydney and the boy doing?”

  Billie whispered, “She’s walking around the farm, asking about Jason and some questions about how we’ve survived so well when others are starving. I don’t like her, but I don’t know why.”

  “Billie, I have the same feelings. She was a spoiled, rich young woman when she disappeared with her family. I never liked her, but she and Jason were close during their senior year. She threw a fit when Jason joined the Army. It might have been the first time in her life when someone didn’t do what she told them to do. She wanted Jason to go away to college and then work in her dad’s company. Jason said, “’Hell no,” and joined the Army.”’

  Billie grimaced. “Will she cause Kat any problems?”

  “Not if she doesn’t want her skinny ass whipped,” Jan laughed.

  Billie nodded and then chuckled. “Kat may be a tiny thing, but she has a mean streak when riled, and messing with Jason will undoubtedly get her hackles up.”

  The meeting started with Jan giving her thoughts on the direction the group should take. Jan gave them her update, and then Billie gave hers on their responsibilities. Everyone liked the ideas and gave several more of their own. The best one was a wind-powered generator. The second best was finding several old putt-putt engines or steam engines to power equipment or generators.

  Missy said, “I read a science fiction book about a group just like us during an apocalypse. A young girl took old car generators and attached them to bicycles to make human-powered electric generators. I’d like to do that.”

  Chrissy stood up to give her idea. “I read the same series, and they even found some old-timey steam powered locomotives and used them to haul freight and
trade goods between cities. The author also made the point that museums and antique shops would be a treasure trove of old but useful hand powered tools and antique cars and trucks that would run.”

  Billie said, “There are several biplanes in the lobby of the Nashville airport in a display celebrating early airplanes. I wonder if any of them will run?”

  Karen said, “Let’s get back down to earth here. I would settle for an old wringer washing machine powered by one of those small gas engines I saw in the display at the TVA office in Murfreesboro. I’m tired of breaking my nails on a washboard.”

  The meeting broke up when one of the guards hollered into the room. “They’re back! All of them are back!”

  Jan said, “Meeting adjourned.”

  They all ran outside to see their friends and loved ones ride down the driveway in an old flatbed farm truck. They'd only been gone a couple of days, but hugs and kisses were quickly traded. Jan hugged her son and then Kat. She then hugged Jason again and started to warn him about Sydney, but she was too late.

  ***

  MMax wanted to run to the nice older lady who smelled of his human and granola bars but caught a whiff of something that alarmed him. It was actually a mixture of several scents. One reminded him of the evil one he’d killed. Another was from another evil person. The woman’s scent was much stronger, but even the soap and water didn’t wash away evil. The boy smelled a lot like his human and the older man who had died.

  MMax watched the human woman closely and was ready to pounce on her if she attacked his human or his friends in the community. MMax growled when she tried to pat him on the head.