Breckinridge Valley: Surviving the Black--Book 1 of a Post-Apocalyptical series Read online

  “Of course, sweet pea,” I said, lifting her up. “Remember I have guard duty part of the night. If I’m not here, Uncle Craig will be.”

  “’Kay,” she murmured. I wasn’t sure she heard me.

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter 6

  Nearly a week passed, with nightly auroras and radios shrouded in static. The Huntsville Utility now filled water tanks twice a day, using a generator to run the pump. It was better than hauling water from the Mecklin River. Jerry Hill blocked the highways. The roadblocks successfully kept the traffic local.

  The local National Guard unofficially disbanded just after the power went out. Major Thomas was still in Oneida, but he knew nothing about what was happening elsewhere. Some of his people left in their own vehicles and others took the National Guard Humvees. Major Thomas still had a few soldiers, but none with family nearby. They were helping keep the peace in Oneida. Most of the Oneida police were guarding the Walmart, ostensibly to prevent looting. Several gun battles took place around Oneida, but so far, no dead cops.

  In Huntsville, firefighters were gathering food from all over. I was pleased no one waited to rescue food from local eateries and other schools. Some people even donated food they couldn’t eat before it spoiled. People registered to receive meals. Several farmers hitched up horses to hay wagons and helped deliver the meals, saving fuel.

  Sheriff Lewis doubled the guard on his fuel supply after a few threats. People were still expecting the power to come back any day. The holiday spirit waned as the grim reality stretched out in front of us all. Tempers were raw. Confrontations with law enforcement and firefighters increased.

  My dad urged Sheriff Lewis not to stop anyone who wanted to pack up and leave, as long as they didn’t steal any fuel or resources. Sheriff Lewis warned them that they might not be allowed back in, but let them go.

  Our crew jerry-rigged several old wood stoves into the middle school. With plenty of wood, this was seen as a positive move. The valley sent a few cords of oak from our reserves to help out along with eggs and some fresh milk.

  We were encouraged by the way the seniors banded together and were now doing most of the cooking and cleaning. This allowed the volunteers to help their own families. The firefighters continued to locate and distribute food from local stores.

  Once the hurry to prevent food spoilage passed, it started to dawn on people we were running out of food. A local dietician helped scale back the middle school meals to rice, beans, a little egg, canned vegetables, and a minuscule glass of milk.

  The farmers no longer felt comfortable sending their horses into town. People wanting meals either walked to the school or did without. This cut back the middle school visitors to those who were really hungry.

  After more than a week without power, a severe feeling of hopelessness fell over most Huntsville families. We butchered a goat and sent it to the school. They put it in the freezer and augmented the sparse food with bits of goat meat. For most, it was the first goat meat ever, but all seemed appreciative.

  The Oneida police were losing control of Oneida, based on reports Sheriff Lewis was hearing. People in Oneida demanded the police turn over the Walmart to a new committee. I couldn’t tell from my vantage point who deserved the resource, the people or the police. We avoided some of that conflict by relying on the volunteer fire department and churches to handle the Huntsville area food distribution. It is also easier for a smaller community to pull together in adversity.

  Sheriff Lewis asked Jerry Hill to block TN 456 from Oneida along Paint Rock Creek. He figured locals would know how to get around the roadblock but without internet apps, others probably wouldn’t. The only staffed roadblock was at the intersection with US 27. No local would be deterred by it, they’d just take side streets.

  On day nine, Sheriff Lewis visited the National Guard armory. They found Major Thomas and three of his soldiers still holed up there, manning the radio. Major Thomas reported three small airplanes took off from the airport over the past two days. He guessed they lived in the airpark. His troops doublechecked the fueling station, and it was still secure.

  He estimated there were 20 to 30 aircraft secured in hangars on the airport grounds.

  Major Thomas told Sheriff Lewis the situation in Oneida was getting so unstable he pulled his own people back.

  Major Thomas had enough MREs for just the four of them to last several more weeks. He and his troops were armed only with their personal weapons, but with plenty of ammo.

  The guard remnants intended to stay put, hoping to eventually get some information from higher authorities. They were running the generator only long enough to keep the communication’s gear charged. Sheriff Lewis promised to bring some candles on his next visit.

  Sheriff Lewis and his deputy got back without incident. Sheriff Lewis confided to my dad, that he didn’t check on any people along the way. My dad believed it. After so long without power or information, peoples’ attitudes were turning dark. Looking at your pantry and worrying about feeding your family through the winter would do that.

  Sheriff Lewis also told my dad there were break-ins every night in Huntsville. He didn’t think the thieves were from out of town, and they seemed on foot. So far, they targeted cash registers, alcohol, and junk food. Business owners were talking about sleeping in their businesses to protect them. Sheriff Lewis was particularly worried about the pharmacy. The pharmacist was already providing free medicines for patients at Sheriff Lewis’s request. They kept a dispensing list there, similar to the one maintained for food redistribution.

  My dad asked if Sheriff Lewis wanted one of our teams to sleep there overnight, but he declined. His deputies were cruising by the pharmacy several times at night. Sheriff Lewis hoped that was enough.

  My dad and his wingman got back to the valley before dark. We met up at the communal meal. It was better than what the poor seniors ate, mainly because we still were eating fresh root vegetables and salad from the garden.

  We were trying to follow nutritional guidelines and reduce calorie and fat intake. Dr. Jerrod was working with my mom to make sure the kid’s got all the appropriate nutrients. The rest of us would be transitioning to two meals per day. Morning and late afternoon.

  According to Dr. Jerrod, this new regimen would be good for us since all of the adults were carrying a few unneeded pounds.

  Under the new meal guidelines, adult males needed more to eat than adult females. This meant there was a male serving size and female serving size. People were encouraged to eat everything on their plates. Dr. Jerrod started monitoring our weight weekly. Anyone losing weight too rapidly would get poker chips during the weigh-in to pay for extra servings during the next week.

  Dr. Jerrod wanted us lean but healthy. She felt the sooner we shifted from a typical American diet to something healthier, the better. It was one way to prevent or control a large number of chronic illnesses which we no longer had the where-with-all to treat.

  No one in the valley was allowed to lead a sedentary lifestyle. Milking cows and goats was a twice-daily task. Collecting eggs was a daily task, especially since our hens were masters at hiding them. Feeding cows, horses, goats, chickens, pigs, and rabbits and cleaning their living quarters required a lot of labor. Especially since we were committed to doing most of it by hand. We did shift around hay bales using the electric forklift, but only because we could recharge it with solar. Most of the horses and cows were out in the pasture and just needed supplemental feeding.

  Some of the activity involved getting the greenhouses up and operational to provide salad greens all winter. Rachel planted new potatoes, spinach, and broccoli for harvest this winter, too.

  The real benefit wouldn’t show up until we got an early start on the spring planting. My mom and Rachel estimated we could start some of our spring vegetables in January.

  Kale, collard greens, turnips, carrots, and spinach were still growing in the original gardens. Someone just planted onions and garlic for spring harvest.r />
  The root cellar stored a modest collection of potatoes, sweet potatoes, squash, cabbages, parsnips, beets, rutabagas, apples, and pears. They would add fresh fruit and vegetables to our diet, but we only maintained a fraction of what we would need to store in the future.

  The same could be said about the vegetables my mom and others canned through the summer. Next year canning and storage would need to ramp up a lot.

  We decided any risk of nuclear fallout had passed. This allowed my mom to remove the black plastic covering the auxiliary garden. The area was now planted with a cover crop to serve as green manure in the spring.

  While we set aside a lot of stored food as part of our preparations, farming was a risky business. Disease or bad weather could put us in a world of hurt. I wouldn’t rest easy until we began adding to the food supplies. Seed production would become a critical aspect of future harvests.

  My mom wouldn’t allow hybrid seeds in the valley to protect the integrity of her heirlooms. Most of the seeds we acquired from retailers would be offered to locals wanting to start gardens in Huntsville. I knew my mom hoped by the time the hybrid seeds ran out there would be enough heirloom seeds to share. I didn’t share her optimism.

  Last night was our first heavy frost. The frost was the signal to harvest the collard greens. My mom wanted to send some to the seniors. I volunteered to take the milk, eggs, and collard greens to town. Craig offered to be my wing-man. We varied the days of the week we brought the supplements to the middle school to avoid a possible ambush. We even varied the routes taken, although there was a limited number of options.

  All of us would feel easier when radio communications came back. The static was still heavy. I thought last night’s aurora was one of the most intense so far. My dad asked everyone to watch the sky for the past few days and nights looking for aircraft. So far, no luck.

  Transporting eggs, milk, and collard greens on a motorcycle wasn’t easy. My mom added a hunk of salt pork after we got everything but the greens in our saddle bags. A bungee cord secured the medicine ball-sized bag of collards to the back of my bike. I was glad to avoid giving them a ride on the seat between me and the handlebars.

  Once through the valley gate, I decided to take a reasonably direct route to the middle school, avoiding potholes and other potential egg cracking opportunities.

  I noticed something new since my last foray. A lot of the small homesteads now had downed trees blocking their driveways. Some trees were dropped in place. Others were dragged into position. I wasn’t sure if it was a response to a new threat or just a prudent precaution. Not everyone along the road did this, but nearly all with smoke coming out their chimneys did. I suspected some houses were empty, perhaps families were moving in together to help each other.

  I was glad we didn’t meet any cars on the road. We were vulnerable if someone veered into us. We wore our fire-rescue vests, but how much goodwill that was still worth was unclear.

  We still got a rousing welcome at the middle school. They were ecstatic over the collard greens. Especially after I pulled out the salt pork.

  While the ladies were taking the collards into the kitchen, two of the men pulled us aside. They’d heard a loud gunshot last night. They were worried. For the first morning this week, no deputy dropped by to see how they were doing. We promised to check it out.

  A few of the seniors were armed, though they didn’t brandish their weapons. There wasn’t much we could do to protect them. They still kept a lot of food locked in storage. Not enough to get them all through the winter but a goodly amount for a few hungry families.

  We collected our egg crates and empty milk jugs before heading over to Sheriff Lewis’s offices.

  When we arrived, I knew something was terribly wrong. The place was buzzing with people, including all three of our Huntsville teams. One of our guys spotted us and trotted over.

  “Deputy Jenson was killed last night at the pharmacy,” he said. “Ambush headshot. They cleaned out the oxy and other painkillers. Trashed the place, too. They emptied the deputy’s car, took his weapons, even stripped his body to get the vest. I suspect they’d have taken the car, too, but they miscalculated and couldn’t pull it out of the ditch. Once they took him out, they spent the rest of the night getting their fix.”

  “Any idea about the weapon used?” I asked.

  “Deer rifle, likely 30-06, from what I could see. I just looked from the edge, not wanting to cause any grief,” he said. “Rest of the deputies are talking about going home. If that happens, we’ll have to pull out of Huntsville.”

  I sent two men back to the valley to get my dad. He and Sheriff Lewis had a weird relationship. Weird but respectful. If my dad couldn’t fix this mess, it wasn’t salvageable.

  My brother Steve joined us, leaving the rest of our group to monitor the situation.

  “Jenson and his wife moved in with Deputy Carlson’s family last week, so at least one of them would be home for protection. Carlson won’t be back on the job. It is a toss-up about the rest,” Steve said softly to avoid being overheard.

  “Have you heard of any home invasions?” I asked describing the trees I saw earlier blocking driveways.

  “No, but something has really spooked a lot of residents. People are starting to band together. Of course, it’s easier to heat one house than two. Guard duties are easier if shared. You know the drill,” Steve said. “Heck, some pill heads might be looking for softer targets.”

  “I’m hoping dad can salvage something,” I confided. “If only to have them stand down until the radios come back and we learn more. I’m also hoping we can shift the rest of the pharmacy’s drugs into the jail. I’d propose shifting it to the valley, but doubt that would fly. Those drugs might save a lot of lives down the road. The jail is the most defensible place we have in Huntsville.”

  “I knew there was a reason dad recruited you, bro,” Steve said. “Great idea. But, I’ll let dad broach it when the time is right. I think other resources could be stored in the jail. If they have anyone left to guard it.”

  I was starting to reconsider our current freedom of movement. All we needed was a shooter targeting one of our bike scouts. It didn’t take much of a sniper to hit a deputy from ambush, but there were a lot of good hunters in the county who could easily nail one of our scouts. Even if the armor kept the shot from being fatal, I doubted the scout would stay on the bike. I didn’t know whether the deputy’s head shot was a lucky fluke or whether it was targeted.

  I told everyone to be watchful. While I expected the shooter was high on pills right now, it wouldn’t do to underestimate cold-blooded killers.

  I was relieved when my dad showed up in a Humvee. He certainly made a flashy entrance. A Ranger rode with him in the cab, but the Ma Deuce was still covered. After thinking it through, I approved. If we only faced rifles, they could take potshots at the Humvee all day long. No need to put a target on someone manning the turret.

  “Brief me,” my dad said.

  “Deputy murdered last night from ambush. They waited to rob the pharmacy until they took him out. They cleaned out the heavy drugs but left lots more. Deputies are about to revolt,” I said, looking to Steve in case he knew more.

  “Jeremy thinks we should convince Sheriff Lewis to move the rest of the pharmacy to the jail. Maybe have the deputies stand down until radios are usable,” Steve said.

  “Okay, about what I expected,” my dad said. “Let’s hope the deputies will agree to protect the jail as a minimum. A lot of people will protest if we move the drugs to the valley, but the drugs may be critical for the people of this area. I’m also wondering why Sheriff Lewis can’t get some of the National Guard Humvees for patrols. I’ll see what I can do,” my dad said, before pausing and looking at me directly. “I don’t think it is safe for our guys to be out on the bikes anymore. They are too soft a target.”

  Now I was kicking myself for only getting two armored vehicles. They were fuel hogs but would keep you alive in a hostile zone.


  Our guys joined me at the Humvee, while my dad left to talk with Sheriff Lewis.

  We knew from the beginning the bikes made us potential targets. We counted on the whisper quiet travel, different travel routes, and the thin slice of civilization to keep us out of the crosshairs. Now that someone crossed that line, we needed to up our game. The first order of business was grounding the routine bike patrols. I thought we could still safely move back and forth from the valley on them, but only at night with full night vision. Once our radios were back and we knew more, we would revisit it.

  We agreed staying in Huntsville without law enforcement was too dangerous. I knew some of our allies expected to bring their neighbors with them. That was a complication but not a surprise. We’d deal with that one step at a time. I wasn’t opposed, just wary about introducing too many strangers into the valley. Betrayal from within was one way to gut us.

  My dad left Sheriff Lewis and strode directly toward us. I couldn’t tell what was decided from his demeanor.