Breckinridge Valley: Surviving the Black--Book 1 of a Post-Apocalyptical series Page 16

  Craig read a book in the corner. Mandy knitted a brightly colored pullover-style hat on hoop needles. She tried, unsuccessfully, to interest Ellie in knitting. Steve had guard duty.

  I changed into dry clothes and hung my wet pants and shirt on the rack near the wood stove to dry. We needed a bigger clothes rack.

  I sat in my recliner, thinking we’d need a few more chairs to accommodate adding six more adults to the house, primarily since the main lighting and the only lit wood stove was in the family room. Kids could sit on floor cushions. Crowded conditions would make this a long winter in so many ways.

  Of course, I fell asleep in the recliner nearly immediately, waking only when Melissa crawled in my lap. I wrapped my arms around her as we chatted quietly about her chickens. She told me the animals didn’t like the rain any more than she did. I reminded her we needed rain for the trees and grass to grow. The gin rummy game broke up, and Jennifer sat on the arm of my chair, leaning on me. I offered her room on my lap, but she was going through an “I’m too adult to do that” episode. I also got the impression she wanted to ask about what happened last night but didn’t want to alarm Melissa.

  I told them nearly everyone from Huntsville was now in the valley. Both girls recognized some of the new kids from school. Jennifer hoped the new group was going to be better with animals than the last one. “They don’t even know not to stand behind a horse,” Jennifer said, outraged. “These were the ones who told Uncle George they knew all about horses.”

  “Some people exaggerate,” I said. “We need to help train these new people.”

  “But daaaad,” Jennifer said, “They just don’t listen.”

  We spent nearly an hour visiting, with me mostly listening. Clearly integrating these new groups into valley life was going to take more work.

  With everyone getting up to start work at dawn, bedtime was early for the kids. Without TV or computers, evenings were a lot less enjoyable.

  I set my alarm and slipped off to bed, too. Mandy was still knitting, Craig looked up when I got up. We hadn’t talked about our findings, but that could wait until morning. Mandy no longer seemed agitated about my earlier lack of clothing, so that discussion could wait until another time.

  The alarm dragged me from a fitful sleep. I left my dry clothes folded by my bed and crept into the darkened family room to retrieve my likely still damp camos. I put more wood in the damped down stove to make it toastier when everyone else got up.

  The rain had stopped, but everything outside was still soaking wet. I was on guard duty with Audrey for the next two hours. Neither of us was in the mood to chat.

  I relieved Zeke. He reported hearing a flurry of faint gunfire, but it only lasted about 20 minutes at the start of his shift. He checked with the radio hut, but they heard nothing from either the apartments or the middle school. He assured me our guys were hard targets. No way they’d be taken down in a measly 20 minutes.

  While I agreed with him intellectually, I hated not knowing. We still had two guys monitoring the ambush spot at the end of our lane. They were dug in tight. They had suppressors, so if they fired, we probably wouldn’t have heard a thing. They confirmed it wasn’t them, but they heard the gunshots, too.

  At this hour we only had four patrol radios on, mine, because I was on guard duty, the two guys at the ambush spot, and one in the radio hut. The field units used rechargeable batteries, but they wouldn’t last forever.

  “Bravo One this is Alpha One,” I heard in my earphones.

  “This is Bravo One,” I replied.

  “Pickup approaching; lights out.”

  “Engage if they turn toward base,” I said.

  “Wilco.”

  I signaled to Audrey we could have action within seconds. She slid into the nearest armed Humvee awaiting directions.

  “Three tangoes, driver has NVGs, slowing at intersection.”

  “Not stopping.”

  “Stopped, 100 meters past.”

  “Wait, out.”

  I knew they were moving closer to see what the pickup was doing. Waiting was difficult.

  “Hotel, this is Bravo One,” I sent.

  “Bravo One, this is Hotel.”

  “Send the on-call Force Beta to my position, over.” I sent. My guys got little sleep as it was, but my gut told me something serious was afoot.

  “Wilco.”

  After two minutes I heard, “Bravo One, this is Bravo four in two” followed closely by “This is Bravo niner in two.”

  Still nothing from Alpha one.

  “Bravo One, This is Alpha two.”

  “Bravo One.”

  “Alpha one is driving the truck to base. Don’t shoot.”

  “Copy.”

  “Alpha two has the watch.”

  I left Bravo four with Audrey. Bravo niner and I went across the bridge to meet Alpha one.

  Alpha one first showed us the pair of M72 LAWs, then pointed to the three bodies in the back of the pickup. The leader was the only one who had NVGs. He had carried one of the LAWs. Alpha one believed they were preparing an ambush for our Humvee and he wanted to get back with Alpha two.

  I sent Bravo niner back with Alpha one. I drove the pickup to the valley side of the bridge. Were they going to pull something in town expecting us to rush to the rescue or was the valley facing a more immediate threat?

  I parked our new truck out of sight. Nothing of interest except the stack of weapons and ammo. They had a milk jug full of water in the cab but nothing else to eat. Each of the bodies had spare clips, a granola bar and some hard candy in their pockets. The guy who had the NVGs had a map in his jacket pocket. That was it. I covered the bodies with a tarp, not wanting the kids to see them.

  I briefed Audrey and Bravo four with what little I knew. I then sent Bravo four to rack out. He started to object, but shut up and left.

  Other than the radio checks the rest of my guard duty was without incident. I told my relief about the earlier shooting in town and our subsequent encounter with the LAWs.

  My watch woke me after too little sleep, but it was nearly dawn. I needed to brief my dad, find out if he learned anything from Frosty, and plan the mission to pick up the last of our team from town.

  My dad decided we could chat over breakfast. Cornmeal mush with a little honey, Spam, and canned fruit. I didn’t know what I was going to do when we ran out of coffee. What we were serving was so weak, I suspected the boost I felt from drinking it was strictly psychosomatic.

  My dad got a bit more out of Frosty who was very eager to help him. Lloyd Mountain Militia was very selective about who got the top gear. Frosty didn’t rate either NVGs or a LAW. Frosty confirmed the group didn’t trust the new additions very much. Frosty joined the group about five years before. He confirmed Charlie was the top guy in the duo I questioned yesterday morning and that Jimbo was the newb.

  I gave my dad the map I pulled off the dead guy. It was just a AAA map of Tennessee, but I thought it might have markings on it. If nothing else it was a map, and no one was making any more.

  My dad was going to work on Frosty some more, hoping to learn how many LAWs or mortars they had. One good thing, he already learned they didn’t have enough to allow anyone to practice with them. They mostly used YouTube and video games for their training. That was excellent news and suggested they would be reluctant to waste the special munitions. The LAW might be nearly as dangerous to them as to us depending on how careful they were with the back blast. Still, it was hard to miss a stationary target at point-blank range. We just had to make sure they didn’t get that kind of shot.

  Morning reports from our crews in Huntsville confirmed last night’s soft hit on the middle school. Our scouts engaged the suspected Militia raiding team before it got near the middle school. The raiders retreated quickly. Our guys couldn’t pursue effectively because they were on foot.

  My team in the reinforced middle school was not leaving it unprotected without a direct order. I wasn’t sure whether they’d comply e
ven then. I understood, protecting the innocent is what made them what they were.

  I told the apartments to come home at 11:20 a.m. using code for the instructions.

  We swapped scouts to give everyone a break. Bravo four stayed to expand coverage. I got a better debrief on last night’s action. The Militiamen covered their truck with camo and began rigging up a blind with a straight shot at vehicles coming from or going to Breckinridge Valley. My guys didn’t want them to dig in. They tried to capture the tango with the LAW, but he moved into the bullet.

  I was just glad he didn’t get a shot at anyone on our side.

  We already destroyed or captured a bunch of vehicles and at least $20,000 (pre-crash) in weapons and equipment belonging to Lloyd Mountain Militia. While they probably had vehicles to burn, I couldn’t believe they could say the same about assault rifles or even pistols. Of the last group, only the leader carried both a handgun and an assault weapon.

  There was one more funnel point coming into the base located a mile closer to Huntsville, east of last night’s action. I sent three scouts to relocate and cover that spot, anticipating the arrival of our crew from the apartments. I sent a team with chainsaws to make sure no one got through on the road coming from the west side of the ambush site. The woodcutters put up homemade signs along the road warning trespassers would be shot.

  I hoped any legitimate neighbors would heed the warning.

  The scouts intercepted a second three-man Militia team. It was waiting in ambush at the funnel point when my scouts arrived. The trio had a pair of LAWs and an excellent location to intercept someone coming from either our base or town. This new group was in cover, so my guys took no chances. One bad guy had a cell phone. Some cell phone photos appeared to be from the Militia compound.

  Roger, as our newly designated intel chief, took over our prisoners and he wanted the photos. I heartily endorsed his new assignment, he knew the people and the area a lot better than I did. He was also now the commander of our self-defense force. I was surprised that it actually felt right.

  I hoped the photos were helpful. Roger thought the phone’s contact list might provide some insight into the group. He assigned people to dig a hole and bury the bodies out of sight of the kids.

  I took one of the armed Humvees to intercept the convoy from the apartments, just in case. All returned without any tangoes being spotted, or shots fired.

  We left the three scouts at the farthest ambush intersection. It was at the maximum range of our radios. We left them with Ninja bikes.

  Now everyone was in the nest except the six members of Force Beta left at the middle school. I took three rested members of Force Beta with me to the middle school. The four guys who shifted from the apartments last night humped extra ammo to the school, so they had plenty of that. I wanted a more comprehensive list of options for sending and receiving messages over the open mic.

  I had decided since my guys weren’t inclined to leave the middle school, it would now be bait. From now on we were going to break some eggs. Our new rules of engagement assumed anyone with a long gun or who was near the middle school were considered hostile. We still needed to be careful not to shoot refugees or each other, but the kid gloves were off.

  We swapped out two guys for two who received minor injuries from flying glass last night. No need to risk infection for no gain. Buzzer and Erik had the refugees helping with the middle school’s defense. Even Buzzer didn’t think they’d help much in a firefight. Their assignment was to stay inside the building and form the last line of defense.

  Erik and Buzzer worked relentlessly with the refugees to harden the middle school and establish good overwatch sites. The flat roof might not shed the rain well, but it let them move around quickly. I brought them six precious radios and assigned them echo designations. I warned them we were mostly out of range, but if we came into their theater, we’d be wearing radios.

  One of the guys I brought was an excellent sniper, not in Craig’s skill range but great for overwatch. He had a long barrel MK 17 SCAR. Eric immediately assigned him to the roof of the gymnasium to start checking on his fields of fire.

  We then left the middle school and drove to the jail to talk with the sheriff.

  Whoever we talked to via loudspeaker told us we could only come in if we disarmed, first. I even used the radio the sheriff gave us, but I never got to talk with the sheriff. I was also not interested in disarming. We backed off and went home.

  I sent my two slightly wounded men to see Dr. Jerrod and met up with my dad. He and Roger were pouring over a large USGS map of Mecklin County along with several satellite maps of the Lloyd Mountain area. Surprise.

  I told them we were set to use the middle school as bait to hurt the Lloyd Mountain Militia. I expected the fight to be during the day time, just because they didn’t have many NVGs. I also shared the weird vibe I got from the sheriff’s enclave.

  “I thought Sheriff Lewis was losing it,” my dad confided. “I hope he can regain some control, but I doubt it. Deputy Allen was acting more and more like he was in charge. I was sure of it after the first deputy got killed. I hoped our guys killing the perps and the sheriff getting armored Humvees would bolster the sheriff’s control. I noticed last week Sheriff Lewis was drinking again.”

  “He’s been sober for nearly 15 years, I hoped he would hold it together,” Roger said. “He never took anything we said seriously, but he was willing to work with us, anyway. One good thing, Josh Jennings’ Militia, runs closer to those Sheriff Lewis had in jail than his deputies. They won’t be natural allies. I don’t like hearing the Militia has ties to the Oneida mess, but I bet whoever they are with are criminally inclined.”

  “Criminally inclined?” I asked. “Why not just say they are crooks?”

  “Heck, some folks call us crooks,” said my dad. “Can’t say we followed all gun or moonshine laws, but I wouldn’t say we were criminally inclined.”

  “Whatever,” I said, arguing with the two of them was useless. “Have you got any ideas on how to check out the Lloyd Mountain Militia base without getting caught?”

  “Not yet, I suspect they have some traps spread around, both mechanical and explosive. That complicates things,” Roger admitted. “Aaron asked ole Frosty about it this morning. Frosty hemmed and hawed before admitting he only knew the main roadway was clear. A few crews were working along the perimeter of their property, cutting trees and I suspect getting up to mischief. I’m not sure what they are doing about water up there. Frosty says they have a well, but no running water. Growing food and farming isn’t their thing, either.”

  “What kind of housing do they have?” I asked.

  “They have a few shacks,” Roger said. “Until the crash, most people lived off-site. They were more like a weekend gun club. Drinking beer and shooting their guns. I suspect they wouldn’t mind moving into the middle school. It has water, as long as the water plant runs the pumps, electricity, and some food. I can also understand why they would really like to take over the valley.”

  “If we kill their core group do you think the rest will fall apart?” I asked.

  “Probably, though they have more assault rifles than I would have guessed. They have a lot more than they could afford,” said my dad. “They may have been storing them for other similar groups. That could be a problem.”

  “Let’s see how the baited trap works before we go on the offensive,” Roger said. “I’d like to do what we can with the security force, so we aren’t so dependent on Force Beta for day-to-day valley defense, I see your guys as our offensive force and cavalry.”

  My dad added, “Let’s finish the defensive platform and get everyone who passes a marksman evaluation armed and assigned to the defense force. My old buddies can start pulling their weight to protect the valley, now that everyone is here. We need some refreshers, but they are pretty solid, most haven’t put on too much weight. Those who have are now on a forced diet so they should be in shape soon.”

  “Do you
have someone who can start training the civilians on firearm safety and skills?” I asked.

  “We have a few who taught firearm safety to kids for their hunting licenses,” my dad said. “They should be the first level trainers. If they identify anyone with better than average talent, we will ask you to help with the advanced training.”

  “Please plan a raid to empty the local lumber yard, once things with Lloyd Mountain calm down,” my dad said. “We need the materials for the long haul. Some of our new people are carpenters. I want to get all the plywood and lumber we can before we have to start cutting our own. Shingles, tarpaper, insulation, windows, nails and all that stuff, too. Add that to your operational plans for sooner rather than later.”

  I peeked in at my mom on the way out, she waved but was still trying to determine how much food we’d have by the time the crops started coming in. I knew she was sending out foraging teams to pick up walnuts and hickernuts. She had a group cross-checking and verifying food stores.