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

  Dr. Jerrod joined our table just as we were finishing breakfast, ready for her excursion. She had her laptop for the inventory and her doctor’s bag for an emergency. She spotted Mike and asked how his stitches were.

  Mike got hit in the leg by a ricochet during our attack on pod one in the jail. It was a minor wound, but the bullet was quite mangled, and there was some concern about infection.

  “It’s healing fine, doc,” Mike said, knowing that would not be enough.

  Dr. Jerrod just waited. Mike was resigned as he rolled up his pant leg and showed her the wound on his calf.

  “You are right, Mike, it is healing well.” Dr. Jerrod said.

  “Are you ready to leave?” she asked me.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, contacting FOB Echo to warn them we were on our way.

  At Justice, there was a lot of activity around the inmate garden’s irrigation pump. The generator parked next to the pumphouse was running. A garden hose hooked to the pump snaked across the parking lot to a hose bib on the building. I hoped someone closed the valve connecting the Justice to the municipal supply, or we’d just be filling that system up.

  Two of Steve’s solar techs were installing a large solar panel in the same area. All they needed was a water tank.

  My guys were cutting down the trees between Justice and the county maintenance yard. This was the only direction someone could approach Justice from without crossing a lot of blacktop. We’d exploited the trees during our own attack on the building. My team didn’t want someone else turning the tables.

  If we couldn’t find better materials, Buzzer wanted me to bring the Valley’s portable sawmill. He was already planning to turn the recently cut trees into boards to finish securing the windows on Justice.

  I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  I dropped in to see Scott at the Justice radio hub. He had received one radio check from our recon team, but nothing since. I warned Scott that Dr. Jerrod was in the building. Since Scott was still recovering from his near-death injury, I doubted Dr. Jerrod would be pleased to see him on even radio duty.

  The booking area holding cells were empty. This was where we kept the four deputies remaining from our raid on the building, I wondered what Steve had decided about them. Not enough to look Steve up, to ask him. I was still disappointed in him.

  I radioed Matt asking for a three-man crew for a scavenger hunt in about half an hour. I knew he’d figure out who wanted to go and I had no preference.

  Before I recruited the Rangers to move to Tennessee, I believed a loose group like this needed a flexible leader.

  None of Force Beta were slackers, and they had deep respect for one another. Matt was the only other former officer. He’d been a first lieutenant when he resigned following a botched mission. I hadn’t been involved in the mission and didn’t know the details.

  When I offered him a fresh start in Mecklin County, he jumped at it. He told me he had little interest in command. He just wanted to be a member of the squad. The other men respected him. His natural leadership ability surfaced from time to time. Actually, each member of Force Beta could step up and lead the squad if the circumstances required it.

  They respected my leadership but reserved the right to object or suggest something different. My team had also seen enough combat to know when the bullets started flying not to disrupt the chain of command. Whoever took charge, the rest supported him.

  It worked well for a group as well trained and motivated as our own. I needed to monitor Force Gamma and adjust there if needed. They didn’t start as a military group, so they weren’t hung up on a strict hierarchy. For them leadership was more transactional if someone knew the terrain or had the required skills or equipment, they were in charge of that phase of the operation. I didn’t intend to change anything unless there was a need.

  I left Scott with a handful of leaflets and departed to begin our scavenging operation. I asked for a white flag, and someone scrounged a ratty tee shirt.

  Buzzer, Razor, and Phil, a member of Force Gamma, were standing next to my Humvee, waiting. Razor was one of the quietest Rangers, the opposite of Buzzer. I’d met Phil before but mostly in morning PT. If my guys thought he was ready for a real mission, we’d give it a try.

  “We are looking for more panels to cover the windows and a water tank we can put up on the roof. Anyone know a place to find that stuff?” I asked.

  “Matt thought he saw some tanks in the equipment yard where the militia tried to regroup,” Razor said, but only after glaring at Buzzer and waiting to make sure Buzzer wasn’t going to say anything.

  “I once knew the guy who owned that, but it’s been nearly 20 years,” I said. “Phil, you grew up here and are a lot more familiar with the changes around Huntsville, do you have any suggestions?”

  “Supply Hardware might have more galvanized panels,” Phil said. “I doubt anyone’s needed any since the crash. They’re less than a mile up Highway 27, too. If we find them, the guys can bring the county trucks to load up.”

  “Sounds good. I also have to ask Jerry Hill about a few more trailers to use as roadblocks,” I said.

  “We need to drop off leaflets around town announcing the change in ownership of the justice center. They also offer a bounty for Allen,” I handed them a stack each. “We’ll look for a suitable water tank. I suspect we’ll need a flatbed and forklift to pick it up. And if we have time, we’ll pick up the wood stoves we left at the middle school.”

  I notified Matt we might need help scavenging the window coverings. He said they’d found a flatbed and trailer in the maintenance yard for hauling any panels we found. He wasn’t sure the backhoe they found was strong enough to pick up a water tank.

  I knew we could get a water tank on the roof, but the exact method escaped me.

  We took Phil’s suggestion and drove straight for Supply Hardware. It was on the growing list of scavenging locations my dad was developing, so I didn’t expect to find an owner sitting in the store guarding it with a shotgun. We were prepared, just in case. If they didn’t have what we needed, the smaller hardware store in Huntsville might. The deputies scavenged the smaller store but focused on things with a high value before the crash. From what I saw stored at Justice, much of what they prized were things of little value today. What they expected to do with jewelry, cash, booze, fancy belt buckles, wide-screen televisions, and video consoles was a mystery to me. Not a lot of what I saw stored at Justice came from a hardware store, except extension cords and garden hoses.

  I had Phil drive since he was even more familiar with the roads than I was. A definite plus for bringing Gamma personnel along. Buzzer and Razor slipped out before we got to the place.

  We drove the Humvee directly past the parking lot for all the Mecklin County school buses and into Supply Hardware’s front lot. Our job was to act as a distraction while Buzzer and Razor evaluated any potential threat.

  Spotting all the parked Mecklin County school buses gave me the idea of using them for barricades instead of Jerry Hill’s trailers. I suspected the keys were stored in the office on the lot.

  We drove slowly around the main hardware store building, then the warehouses. I announced over the loudspeaker we would be willing to trade for some items.

  There were piles of corrugated pipe and stacks of yellow plastic septic tanks but nothing stored outside to cover our windows.

  There were no signs of life in the commercial area, but there were still lazy threads of wood smoke coming from several homes visible in a clearing about a quarter mile away. The houses nearest the main road looked abandoned. We were on our fourth circuit when Buzzer gave us the all clear.

  He’d picked the lock on the back door, and we tucked the Humvee there out of sight while we looked around. The place was a treasure trove of home building supplies, hand tools, and welding gear. The dusty floor was undisturbed. Apparently, no one had been in here since before the crash.

  I made an executive decision. We needed to protect th
is valuable resource, shifting some to FOB Justice, but the majority to storage in the Valley. I relayed the request to the Valley for the box trucks, most of Beta and Gamma forces, and the lumberyard flatbed and forklift. We’d likely find a forklift in one of the warehouses, but it might not run anymore.

  At FOB Justice the solar techs continued their work. Matt and a Gamma kept watch from the roof, but the rest headed my way in various county trucks led by a Humvee. They left the armed Humvee to protect FOB Justice.

  I wasn’t sure how many were coming from the Valley. Phil and Razor were canvassing the three warehouses, while Buzzer created a pile of drills, chainsaws, bow saws, tin snips, different tools, stepladders, heavy duty extension cords, and even an electric powered log splitter amongst other material needed in FOB Justice.

  I heartily endorsed providing FOB Justice with its own set of tools and equipment. My mom would just want an inventory. The Justice crew arrived within minutes and were enthusiastically loading all of Buzzer’s discoveries into their county trucks.

  Phil reported finding 2-foot wide by 50-foot long rolls of galvanized steel sheet. Hearing that, Buzzer added several sets of metal drill bits, a stack of rivet guns and five large boxes of rivets.

  The pickups from Justice would empty the main store, while the Valley would empty the warehouses. Unlike the lumber store, we weren’t interested in taking everything. We had enough toilets and boutique sinks, high-end kitchen faucets, and the like. I planned to leave those items.

  The new place expanded our welding capability. I’d also learned you could never have enough garbage cans, even if you didn’t use them for garbage. We designated the plastic mulch, fertilizer, greenhouse and growing supplies for the Justice gardens. The seed supplies were what one might expect for late fall, but the sacks of bird seed and dog food were an unexpected resource. Electrical wire, junction boxes, connectors, circuit breakers, and conduit would be more precious than gold in a few years.

  This expedition wasn’t as extensive as the lumber yard. There was also not much overlap between the two stores. Supply Hardware had a modest assortment of plywood and lumber, but it was in backyard project quantities. Where it excelled was in contractor quantities for plumbing, electrical, nails, and fastenings. We sent pallets of concrete, cement, grout, and mortar back to the Valley.

  We made sure FOB Justice had some of everything by the time we were done. Buzzer estimated he could finish covering the windows with a combination of the sheet metal and the roof panels we scrounged.

  We broke for supper, partly to get Dr. Jerrod back to the Valley and, of course, because we were hungry. I still needed to find a water tank. Tom was remaining behind with the Justice crew to continue the medical inventory. He was also the only medic available there to provide emergency care. I’d have to talk with my mom about how to provide Justice with emergency medical services, without Tom being assigned there full time.

  I promised those staying at Justice, I’d be back after supper. We still needed to find a water tank.

  The unplanned excursion to Supply Hardware made a lot of people late for supper, which my granny was very happy to tell me about. If she wanted me to feel guilty, she needed to work on the mischievous gleam in her eye when she scolded me. I think she even slipped me an extra spoonful of stew.

  I gobbled supper in only minutes rushed back to pick up my team. I’d agreed to leave Buzzer on the Justice construction project. A three-man team scavenging team would suffice. Putting leaflets in roadside mailboxes remained a critical aspect of the mission.

  I wanted to start dropping off leaflets in the neighborhood near the hardware store. Checking out the school bus situation was also high on my to do list and influenced my desire to start there.

  I had Razor drive. The guys considered him a wicked good driver. He coaxed that last RPM or tiniest bit more traction out of his vehicles. My grandpa would have recruited him to drive his moonshine for sure. If we came under fire, I knew he’d keep his wits about him.

  Phil and I were watching different sectors as we approached the neighborhood. Clothes were hanging on the line at one home that wasn’t there before. At another residence, I spotted a pile of split firewood, not there earlier.

  They were keeping watch but still trying to go about their lives.

  “We are leaving information in your mailbox and will then leave,” I announced over the loudspeaker.

  Phil snaked his hand out the open window of the Humvee and put the leaflet into the mailbox. I struck me as funny when he raised the red flag on the side. We left four more leaflets before Phil raised the armored window and let us all breathe a sigh of relief. Our next stop was to the school buses.

  Razor was better with lockpicks than Buzzer. Before seeing Razor in action, I wouldn’t have thought it was possible. He broke into the school bus office and came back out with a bucket of keys in less than a minute.

  “They all look the same,” Razor said. “But they were neatly hanging in a locked box from numbered hooks.”

  “Yeah, I forgot that happened my senior year,” Phil offered, his eyes never leaving his watch sector. “Bus drivers kept forgetting to leave their keys at the end of their shift. Sometimes there weren’t any spare keys available, forcing the transport manager to cancel a morning bus route. One day the school superintendent changed all the locks to a single key. He announced the new setup would cost the district less than rekeying the locks whenever someone lost a key. I only remember it because he rekeyed the buses, even though they didn’t have the project in the budget. The trustees nearly fired him.”

  “I’m glad they rekeyed them all, it will make things easier to use these for what I have in mind,” I said.

  We left several leaflets at a friend’s home near the lumberyard. We’d met him while plundering the lumberyard. He was also the guy who alerted us to the CB check-ins.

  We didn’t see him, nor did we linger. He was still burning the wood we supplied him with, based on the smoke wafting out of his stovepipe.

  We went by the middle school and taped a copy of the leaflet to the front doors and then drove around the neighborhood announcing over the loudspeaker that those in the sheriff’s office had paid for robbing the middle school. We left leaflets in mailboxes.

  That left us only a little time before dark to look at the used water tanks. The outfit had many possible units. I preferred the horizontal tanks, just to spread out the roof load. I didn’t know if the cherry picker parked there worked but if it did, loading the tank on a flatbed would be easy. Not so much getting the tank on the roof. I may have overcommitted on that. We might need to look for poly tanks instead. As a last resort, we could pull one from Valley storage. I knew we had two but didn’t recall the sizes.

  I’d have to take the Justice building drawings home tonight to double check whether the roof could support a full water tank. I was pretty sure it would be fine, but pretty sure is a recipe for disaster in engineering.

  We’d gone to every house surrounding the equipment yard after the confrontation with the militia. We hadn’t wanted any of the militia hiding in any abandoned buildings or assaulting any people still living nearby. From the looks of things, no one moved in since our sweep.

  I parked the Humvee at Justice and went to see if Scott heard anything from our patrol. I knew it was bad practice to communicate via unencrypted radios on a recon mission. Didn’t mean I wasn’t worried.

  Scott didn’t quite say I was behaving like a mother hen, he didn’t have to. That was the reason I hadn’t asked for an update over our encrypted radios.

  When I got home, things were quiet. Steve’s kids were sitting on the couch and mine were sprawled on the cushions. Everyone was reading. Nobody was saying anything. Granny whispered to me that she brought a book for each of them.

  Melissa was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the stacked cushions behind her. She was hunched over her book, biting her lip. I was curious about her book, but not enough to break her concentration
.

  Jennifer was sprawled beside Melissa. Jennifer was chewing on a tendril of her reddish blond hair that escaped from her ponytail. I hadn’t seen her do that in years. I didn’t know what books granny found for them, but I was grateful.

  I was really pleased there was no screaming going on.

  Before I pulled out the justice building drawings, Granny handed me a towel, clean underwear and a bar of soap. “I hear those new showers do wonders, dear,” she said, pointedly. “You may want to shave while you are there.”