CHAPTER TWO
There was warning, of a sort, but it was all rhetoric by the leaders of half a dozen nations. Accusations, counter accusations, warnings and counter warnings. It was enough for Hank to move his stored sandbags to fill the basement windows and doorway, and cover the house floor over the shelter. Then, when it happened, it happened quickly.
Russia launched tactical nuclear missiles against the newly installed anti-missile defenses that the US had installed in Poland. That seemed to be the trigger for all else that happened. The US retaliated in kind. India and Pakistan attacked each other with their nuclear arsenals, China moved on Taiwan and the US intervened.
Israel was hammered by everything the Arab and Muslim coalition in the Mid-East could throw against them, including the thought to be a few years away nuclear capability that Iran had developed. There were additional nuclear devices used against Israel including suicide bombers driving nondescript vehicles with tactical warheads in the trunks.
But Israel went down fighting. All four-hundred plus of her nuclear devices were delivered to the enemy, three-hundred eighty-seven of them successfully.
At first, it looked like China would back off from the Taiwanese invasion, but when Taiwan not only defended its shores, but launched their own conventional missile attack against the Chinese troop buildup on the mainland; China began dropping nukes on the island, and the two US Fleets in the area.
Everyone with nuclear capability was drawn into the conflict on one side or the other. It was what had been feared since the beginning of the Cold War. Global Thermonuclear War.
Hank’s first knowledge of the start of the war was when his NOAA All Hazards Alert radio squealed and instructions on how to build expedient fallout shelters was given. He didn’t hesitate. He got up from his desk at work, put his head in his boss’ office and said, “I’m out of here. I suggest you duck and cover. I’ll check in after this is all over.”
Sam Smith just looked at Hank blankly. Hank shook his head and ran for his Suburban. He had taken to carrying a lot of cash stashed on his person and in the Suburban, with the intent to pick up last minute items in case the worst happened.
Thinking about it for merely seconds, upon seeing the crowds rushing into the store he was stopping at, Hank turned around and headed home at the fastest speed that was safe. There were already people from the cul-de-sac heading for the shelter.
Thinking of the four families living in other areas of the development, Hank thought for another couple of seconds, ran down the steps into the basement and grabbed what he considered his combat gear, and went back upstairs.
He thought about taking the Suburban down to the gate, but quickly dismissed that idea. It was better off inside the garage. Hank broke into a shuffling run and made it to the gate in a couple of minutes. A resident was just pulling up. It was Elizabeth. Her eyes wide, she looked at the heavily armed Hank, then used her card key to open the gate. She drove through without a word to Hank.
There was a steady stream of residents returning to the cul-de-sac. Then the first non-member of the group pulled up to the gate. “Let me in! I know you have a big shelter!”
Hank didn’t have time to think about it. When the man thrust a pistol out of the driver’s window Hank automatically dropped the muzzle of his PTR-91 slightly and pulled the trigger. The round went through the window opening and struck the driver in the throat. The pistol dropped from his left hand as both hands went to his ruined throat.
Hank stood there in shock for over a minute. But then Juan drove up in his construction truck. Juan went pale despite his dark complexion when he got out of the truck and ran over to Hank, catching sight of the blood spattered inside of the windshield of the car blocking the way.
“Come on, Hank, my friend! Snap out of it! Help me push the car…”
Hank shook his head, as if shaking off a heavy load, and ran with Juan over to the dead man’s car. Hank reached through the window and shoved the man over on the seat. Fortunately the car was still in gear and Hank was able to shift it into neutral without having to get in and step on the brake.
He and Juan pushed and the car rolled away down the slight slope, to come to rest in the ditch that paralleled the entrance to the gate. Pete drove up and waited for Juan to get into his truck, open the gate and drive through before he followed suit. “I’ll be back to help!” he called through the open passenger window to Hank. Hank nodded, relieved.
There were no more interlopers for a while as resident after resident came home. Hank thought about just leaving the gate open, but after mentioning it to Pete, who was back, armed to the teeth, the decision was made to keep it closed and open it only when the person was identified.
William and Julie showed up a bit later, both armed. They waved at Hank and Pete, and then took up prone positions nearby to back the two men up. At ten minutes till noon, the sky went brilliant white in the direction of the city’s airport. Hank and Pete dove behind the block wing walls of the gate. William and Julie covered their heads and stayed where they were.
The pressure of the shock wave pressed the air from their lungs and the sound, beyond loud, hurt their ears. Then the shock wave reversal sucked the remaining air from them. All four gasped for breath and shook their heads, trying to get rid of the ringing noise.
Quick looks showed the ugly mushroom cloud beginning to grow in the distance. Pete had to wait a few moments to collect himself, but Hank got back up and went to the gate. He tried his key. The gate wouldn’t open. “EMP,” he called to the others and unlatched the manual gate release.
A convoy showed up a few minutes later, three vehicles with a total of five trailers being pulled. It was the residents from outside the cul-de-sac that had bought into the shelter. “We lost one vehicle to EMP,” yelled Stan Jenkins. “But we got everything transferred to the rest of the rigs.”
Hank nodded and opened the gate manually. He noted the shoulder holstered handgun that Stan wore as he drove through the gate. His wife appeared to be armed, too. It was the same in the other two fully loaded vehicles. Hank didn’t know what they were bringing, but was sure whatever the vehicles and trailers contained would be of use to the community. Definitely the firepower.
That was the last of the vehicles that showed up. More residents straggled in on foot, moving as quickly as they could. Non-residents showed up, too. But the presence of four armed people at the gate turned them away without any real confrontation.
Juan came trotting down the street toward the gate. “Elizabeth and a couple more took a headcount. All here but nine.”
“Thanks, Juan,” Hank said. “I’d totally lost track.” He looked up as dust began to rain down. “Into your shelters!” he yelled. “Wash off before you go in.”
Pete, William, Julie, and Juan all took off as fast as they could run. Hank looked toward the approach street and saw the Stevens family approaching. Sara was carrying the baby, Steven the next oldest, and holding the hand of their third child.
“Hurry!” Hank yelled, seeing a rather large group of people approaching from the other direction. He opened the gate and ran to meet the Stevens. He swept up Bradley and all three adults ran full tilt toward the gate. So did the approaching group.
Hank and the Stevens made it first, but not by much. As the family headed for the shelter, Bradley once again on his own feet, Hank turned and locked the gate just as the mob reached it. Hank turned and ran, hearing shots behind him. He began to zigzag, but took a round high in his back in his left shoulder. He went sprawling, hitting the ground hard.
But gunfire erupted from in front of him and he pushed to his feet, and continued toward his house as his neighbors covered his back. Elizabeth and Juan met him there and urged him to go to the community shelter. But he refused. “No. Mine. You all will need all the space you can get.”
“I’ll stay with him,” said a woman running up to the three as the rest of the neighbors headed for the shelter. “I’m a Paramedic.” She motioned with her thumb at the large pack on her back. “My medical kit.”
Between them, the three got Hank into his basement. Elizabeth and Juan headed back to the community shelter as the woman helped Hank get off his combat harness and shirt.
“This doesn’t look too bad,” said the woman and shrugged out of the pack straps.
Hank was silent, except for some grunts and groans as the woman worked on the wound. “Bullet went through. I think it probably chipped the collarbone. I’d X-ray it if I could, but it shouldn’t be a problem, anyway.” She taped bandages over the entrance and exit wounds.
“Who are you?” Hank finally asked as the woman turned and looked around until she found the basement bathroom in the shelter so she could wash up.
“Bernie Hawthorne. Bernie. Short for Bernice.”
“Oh. I thought Bernie was a guy.”
“Not in this lifetime. We both are contaminated and need to shower off before we go into the shelter. You have something I can wear? My other gear is in the other shelter.”
Moving slowly from the pain and the stiffness of the wound, Hank found a trunk in one corner of the basement. “I think this stuff should fit you. Might be a little storage smell on them.”
Bernie opened the trunk. It was filled with women’s clothing. She didn’t ask where they were from. She picked out something and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Hank picked up the PTR-91 and walked over to one of the basement windows facing the cul-de-sac entrance. He was none too soon. Though it hurt, he opened the window, lifted the PTR to his shoulder and fired off a round. One of the men trying to climb the gate fell back, screaming, though Hank couldn’t hear it.
Hank decided someone else was keeping an eye on the gate from where they were. Another person fell and the group at the gate broke and ran. Except for four. It was Bren, his wife, and two children. They walked up to the gate and waved.
Bernie came out of the bathroom wearing a jump suit and Hank turned to her. “I need to go let the last people in before I shower.”
“Oh, no you don’t!”
“Oh, yes, I do!” Hank said and headed for the basement stairs. Hank didn’t hear what Bernie said, but he suspected it wasn’t very nice.
There was suddenly a pistol in her hand, but she didn’t point it at Hank. Instead, she said, “Then let’s go and get back.” She led the way up the stairs.
Hank fumbled a magazine out of one of the pouches on the battle vest and into a pocket. He knew he couldn’t get the vest on again for a while. But with a full magazine in the PTR and one in his pocket, he decided he was okay.
Hank followed Bernie all the way to the gate. He looked around once and saw Pete wave from one of his basement windows. He had a view of the gate, too, just not as good at the one from Hank’s basement.
“The keys… My left pocket…” Hank couldn’t get the key ring out of his pocket.
Bernie reached in and pulled out the key and used it in the lock on the gate. She’d barely swung it open enough for Bren and his family to slip through when they were charged by some of the group hiding out of sight in the plantings along the wing walls. Bren and family, unlike Sara’s family, were bundled up in raincoats and hats to keep the fallout off their skin.
Hank lifted the PTR, but Bernie was much faster. She fired half a dozen rounds in few seconds and the small group dove back to their scant cover. With the gate locked again, and Bren and his family on the run toward the community shelter, Hank and Bernie began to go up the street backwards, keeping an eye on the gate. At least one person had shot at Bernie when she fired on the group.
But no one tried anything and Bernie and Hank went back into the house, then the basement. Without a word, Bernie fetched another garment from the trunk and went into the bathroom again.
When she came out a few minutes later, she had to help Hank get up and into the bathroom. She left him there. It was a long several minutes before he came back out, with a towel around his waist. Bernie had dry bandages ready and quickly replaced the water soaked ones.
Finally, she helped Hank into the shelter, and into a bunk. He was out like a light.
Hank came to several hours later and groaned when he shifted positions. He saw Bernie sitting at the small table in the kitchen area of the shelter, reading something.
Hearing the groan, Bernie looked over at the bunk and stood. “I want to check your wound,” she told Hank.
He nodded and managed to stand up on wobbly legs. Bernie turned around as the towel dropped to the floor. She heard Hank open the locker at the end of the bunk. A couple of minutes later Hank walked over to the table, wearing a pair of jeans.
“Wow,” Hank said. “Didn’t think a little wound like this would hammer me so bad.”
“One never knows,” replied Bernie. She peeled the tape and bandages from the entrance and exit wounds and cleaned the area again with alcohol pads. A few minutes later and fresh bandages were in place.
“You’re pretty good. And fast,” Hank said, getting to his feet again. He went over to the locker and took out a shirt. He put it on and buttoned it. “What have I missed?” he asked Bernie, going over to the small table against one wall. It held communication gear and a remote reading radiation survey meter.
“Do you know if the radiation is still going up or down?” Hank asked.
As Bernie spoke, Hank noticed the pad next to the meter. “I’ve been recording the levels…”
“I see. Peaked while I was asleep and falling now.” There was an old fire resistant file cabinet next to the table. Hank opened a drawer and took out a laptop computer.
“You have TOM’s spreadsheet for calculating shelter stay time?” Bernie asked, walking over to look over Hank’s shoulder as he sat down and opened up the computer.
“Yep. Assuming no more hits close enough to add new fallout…” Hank typed some numbers into the spreadsheet when it opened and then continued. “We’re in for five weeks or so before we can spend much time outside. Can go out to check after a week, and we’ll need to sleep in the shelter for several months. But the five weeks will get us past the worst of it.”
Bernie nodded. “I’m going to take a nap.”
Hank nodded and turned back to the computer.
The first week passed slowly. By the seventh day Hank was able to raise both Pete in his basement shelter, and those in the community shelter on the FRS radios each had. Pete and family were doing fine. Several people in the community shelter that had been caught in the fallout on their way home were beginning to show some of the effects of radiation sickness.
Bernie talked it over with Hank, and the two decided that Bernie should move to the community shelter to help with the ill. So both suited up in protective gear and left Hank’s shelter and house, Bernie carrying her medical pack.
Both were glad they were wearing respirators when they checked at the gate into the cul-de-sac. There were more bodies, already decomposing, than they’d left after the gunfight that resulted in Hank’s injury.
“Must have been a fight among those trying to get in,” Hank said, his voice slightly muffled despite the voice amplifier in the respirator.
“We need to do something with these bodies…” Bernie said.
Hank marveled at the calm tone of her voice. “But not now,” he replied. “The radiation level is still too high to spend more than a few minutes out here.”
Bernie nodded and they headed for the community shelter. To their surprise, there were three bodies outside the west entrance. No mention had been made about an attack on the shelter. But there were two rifles, a shotgun, and three handguns lying beside the bodies. There were marks on the outer entrance door that indicated the three had hammered at the door, trying to get in.
“Let’s check the east side,” Hank told Bernie and she nodded. It was the same scene, only with five dead, all carrying arms.
“We’re staying out too long,” Hank said. “Let’s move the bodies at the west entrance and get you inside.”
The two hurried back to the west entrance and dragged the bodies clear of the door. Hank pressed the intercom button beside the outer door, but nothing happened. After trying twice more, Hank took the FRS radio from his belt and keyed it.
There was an immediate response. “Hank, we’ve been waiting for you.” It was Bren.
“We’re at the west outer door. “We tried the intercom, but no one answered.”
“I’ll be right out to let you in.”
A few moments later and the door locking mechanism clanked, but the door didn’t open. “You back inside?” Hank asked on the radio.
“Yep. Come on in.”
Hank pushed on the heavy door and stepped inside the hallway that was part of the airlock entry to the shelter. Bernie was right behind him. Hank closed and locked the door and the two went to the inner door on the right side of the hall at the far end. It stood open.
Before they went into the shelter proper, Hank and Bernie took off their protective equipment and hung it up on pegs in the wall there for that purpose.
Elizabeth snagged Bernie and the two headed to look in on those suffering from radiation sickness. Hank stepped over to Bren and Henry. “Did you know there were bodies at both entrances?”
“I told you I heard something,” Bren said to Henry. “And that the intercom wasn’t working.”
“Must have been them,” Henry said. “We’re all accounted for, so it must have been people trying to break in.”
“I think so,” Hank said. “All of them were armed. Didn’t have any supplies or anything, just their guns. There are several bodies down at the gate, too. I guess a few managed to get in.”
“We didn’t kill anyone, after the ruckus at the gate,” Bren said.
“It looks like they beat on the door, and when no one came and they couldn’t break in, they just gave up and let the radiation take them. If they were out during the worst of it, it wouldn’t have taken long.”
“What should we do?” Bren asked.
“Once the radiation falls, we’ll clean up what’s left of the bodies,” Hank replied.
Bren looked sick. Henry didn’t look all that good, either, at the suggestion.
“I think I’ll gather up the weapons though. No need to leave them for someone else to use against us,” Hank said then.
“You want some of us to suit up and help?” Henry obviously wasn’t too enthusiastic about the idea, but he made the suggestion, anyway. And look greatly relieved when Hank shook his head.
“No need to expose anyone else. If everything else is okay, I’m going back out and get the job done.”
“Hank,” Henry said as Hank turned toward the shelter inner door.
Hank turned back. “I just wanted to say… Well… Thanks for pushing us in the direction you did. Most of us, if not all, would be like those people out there. Dead.”
“I’ll add my thanks to that,” Bren said. “I was reluctant at first, but you were right, all down the line.” Bren held out his hand and Hank shook it. Then Henry did the same. A bit uncomfortable now, Hank hurried to the shelter entrance. He suited up and left the shelter. Bren went out into the hallway and relocked the outer shelter door.
Hank started to gather up the weapons from the three at that entrance of the shelter, but decided it would be much easier, and faster, if he got his garden cart to carry everything in just one trip.
Hurrying, Hank got the cart out of the garden shed and made the rounds of the two entrances of the shelter and the gate. He kept the PTR-91 slung over his shoulder while at the gate. By the time he left the cart with the weapons, ammunition, and accoutrements in the garage the wound in his shoulder was aching and he was sick to his stomach. Some of the bodies were already well into decomposition. Others had been ravaged by hungry animals, probably pets turned loose when the attack began.
Hank quickly unsuited and took a cleansing shower. The warm water helped wash away the feelings as well as any contamination he might have picked up. Still, he didn’t eat anything until the following day.
Another three weeks passed before Pete, Hank, and two teams of three each from the shelter went out to move the dead bodies and do a survey of the area. All had at least tyvek overalls, dust masks, goggles, and gloves. Those with respirators were tasked with the job of handling the bodies while the others kept a guard and looked around the rest of the neighborhood.
It took several hours, even using Hank’s four heavy-duty rototillers to help, to dig the single large grave. But, finally, all the bodies were under four feet of earth cover just outside the cul-de-sac.
Two more weeks and outside work began in earnest. There were still small patches of thin snow here and there in areas sheltered from the weak spring sun, but lot after lot was decontaminated thoroughly, using Hank’s well and irrigation pump. It took all the garden hoses in the cul-de-sac to reach the furthest house, and the water flow wasn’t great, but the job got done.
Most went armed during the work, despite a few protests against the idea. But with the arms collected from those that had tried to force their way inside the shelter, everyone that wanted a gun, got one. Hank kept only one of the recovered weapons himself, since he had most of what he wanted anyway.
It was a sweet little Beretta Tomcat .32 ACP. Only three magazines, but the woman that he’d recovered it from had been carrying two full fifty-round boxes of ammunition, plus over half of another. She had carried it in a Galco Pushup model belt holster that Hank took to wearing whenever he was out of bed, the holster and pistol carried in the small of his back.
With getting a bit of a late start, and the continuing coolness of spring, most attention was turned to getting the various gardens and greenhouses planted. But Hank, Pete, Henry, and Juan took it upon themselves to start an area census and do a little salvaging for critical supplies and for things that would go bad anyway, if not used within relatively short time spans.
First they located everyone in the rest of their development that had survived the attack. There weren’t many. None had any type of long term supplies, or preparedness gear. They had lived after the attack in expedient shelters in their basements, going out as necessary to take food from wherever they could find it.
The decision was made to move them to the houses nearest the cul-de-sac, after cleaning them up. It would make helping them easier, and easier for them to work inside the cul-de-sac. None of them would take any of the arms Hank offered.
The next order of business was to strip the strip malls that lined both sides of the road leading into the rural development. It took days to get everything they wanted, or were asked to look for by those not going on the salvage trips. The biggest triumphs were two loaded grocery trucks stopped at one of the grocery stores. Neither had even been opened when the attack came.
With no luck getting either of the semi trucks started, everything was moved two trailer loads at a time, using Hank’s trailer and Suburban, and Juan’s work truck and tandem-wheel flatbed trailer.
They continued their salvage operations without any problems, finally getting one semi truck to run. They were able to use it to recover the two semi box trailers they’d emptied and then use the trailers to accumulate things in before taking a full load back to the cul-de-sac to unload there. Most of the items went into the community shelter and various garages that had room in them.
The fuel tanks in the two competing service stations were all approximately half-full of fuel. It took the team several days to locate enough fuel tank trailers and a three-phase generator to power the fuel pumps so they could transfer all the fuel from the tanks to the tankers. As each tanker was loaded, it was delivered to the cul-de-sac and parked in an out of the way place, keeping them as far from the houses as possible.
The team made a special trip to the nearest propane dealer and filled all the delivery tank trucks they had. There was one semi with dual tanks that delivered to the facility, and five of the ten wheel home delivery trucks. All were moved to the cul-de-sac, and like the liquid fuel tankers, parked well away from the houses.
They began running out of space to park semi trailers, and the shelter was full, as well. That was about the time that they began to meet with resistance on their salvage trips. Determined to fill the community center before they gave up the salvage operation, the team continued their task, but began to be much more careful.
The original team of Hank, Henry, Pete, Bren, and Juan became the scouts and guards for the others that now drove the vehicles and loaded up the goods the team found. Finally, with Hank shot in the right leg, and Juan with a bullet crease just above his right ear, the cul-de-sac and the area just outside of it closed ranks and prepared for the worst.
It was Bernie that came up with the idea to provide better protection to those outside the cul-de-sac and the bulging community center. “I drove heavy equipment summers to work my way through college,” she told Hank when she mentioned her idea and he doubted the group’s ability to do it.
So, after Bernice showed Juan, who already had some experience, and Henry, who was eager to learn, especially from Bernie, how to handle some of the key pieces of equipment, they went and ‘borrowed’ from the contractor that was doing some highway re-construction just five miles from the development.
Juan, who had used a backhoe before, drove a large excavator to the cul-de-sac and began to dig a shallow trench where Bernie indicated. Henry was moving all the dump trailers from the construction project over and parking them in the trench, separated by about three feet. The bottoms of the trailers were just at ground level.
After moving a front end loader, Henry began to take the dirt from the windrow Juan was making with the excavator and filled in the trench, putting the remaining dirt in the emplaced trailers. With the row of trailers in position, Juan began digging a trench a few feet away from the trailers, on the outward side. All that dirt went into the trailers. Each trailer full of dirt then had two or three fighting positions dug in and sand bagged.
More sand-bagged positions were created in the area between each pair of trailers. A gap large enough to allow a wide vehicle through was left, and a heavy gate built and installed. The deep ditch outside the line of trailers would be the first line of defense, under the guns of those in the firing positions.
If those attacking had adequate forces to get past the trailers, the next line of defense would be the cul-de-sac gate and wing walls. Non-combatants would take cover in the shelter.
Hank, who had been a roving guard, mounted on a four-wheeler that one of the residents contributed, during the construction activities brought up emplacing a full-time guard at the wall. He or she would sound the alarm if anyone showed up.
“That wall won’t do any good if people are allowed to just walk in before we know their intentions.”
Between the original cul-de-sac residents, those outside the cul-de-sac that had joined up before the attack, and those that had been found and taken in after the attack, a guard force of eighteen men, women, and older teens was organized. There would be six four-hour shifts, round the clock, manning the gate.
The ravines and heavy woods were considered safe enough during the day, as there was plenty of activity in the back yards of most of the houses, as people tended gardens and used outdoor grills for preparing food. Some families had decided to use outhouses and were constantly aware of what was going on in their small area of woods.
The rest had chosen to continue using the chemical toilets from the shelter, plus extras brought from a camping supply store. When the defenses had been completed, Juan had dug a pit and installed a septic tank with drainage field, with the help of the others. The chemical toilets would be emptied into the community septic tank.
Several people questioned all the extra work, and especially so many people going around armed. Their questions quickly faded away when three vehicles, two cars and a pickup truck, pulled to a stop at the outer gate. Elizabeth was on guard duty and sounded the alarm as soon as she saw the approach.
Hank showed up on the four-wheeler, and Juan came running up, in fear for his wife’s safety.
“What can we do for you’all?” asked Hank.
“Just out and about, looking for supplies,” said the obvious leader. He’d been driving the pickup, and just had the ‘I’m in charge here’ aura. “You seemed to have something to hide here. What’s with all the barricades?”
“Just protecting what we have,” Hank said evenly. “There are quite a few of us and we’re barely making it, food wise, so I suggest you leave and don’t come back.”
“Aw! Come on! Be sociable. How about a tour of the place. Maybe we can do some business.”
Uncertain, Hank asked, “What kind of business?”
“You give us what we want, and we give you something in return.”
“I don’t know,” Hank said, thinking rapidly. The group of people were beginning to spread out. “It would be up to the individuals whether or not they wanted to trade away their goods. What kinds of things to you want, specifically. And would pay with what?”
“Well, now, that depends, Ol’ Son…” He was fast. Faster than Hank would ever hope to be. But Juan, a closet Cowboy Action Shooter, was faster, by just enough.
The man’s pistol cleared the holster hidden just behind his hip. Juan had his Colt SAA .45 Colt out and three rounds fired before the other man pulled the trigger of his gun. Juan’s bullets all entered the man’s chest. The man’s bullet hit the ground between his feet.
Hank, still on the four-wheeler, unslung his PTR-91, but the battle was already over by the time he was ready to shoot. He decided then and there he’d be a lot more ready in a similar situation. Juan had undoubtedly saved his life with the quick draw and accurate shooting.
The rest of the armed neighbors that had taken up their positions, just as planned, made short work of the rest of the gang. Not a single neighbor was hurt, and everyone of the gang died with multiple gunshot wounds.
The firing stopped and the neighbors looked around at the dead and at each other. “A few of you check the rear perimeter, in case some are trying to infiltrate while we’re occupied here,” Hank yelled.
Getting off the four-wheeler, Hank hobbled over to Juan, who was just standing there, the single action revolver pointed down alongside his leg. Juan was staring at the boy of the dead gang member. “I never killed anyone before,” Juan said softly. “I never even shot at anyone before. It was all against a timer at a paper target.”
“You saved me, for sure, Juan,” Hank said. “Probably several others, by your quick action. Thank you.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Juan said then, going ashen.
He stumbled away and Elizabeth went over to him as Hank turned to take a look at the carnage.
“What do we do with them?” someone asked.
“Strip everything useful off the bodies and out of the vehicles. We’ll dig another grave, with the excavator. And this time, we put up a sign. Boot Hill. And leave an empty grave, ready for the next one. Maybe it’ll make some others think twice.”
No one moved toward the bodies. Limping badly Hank began the process of inspecting the bodies and taking weapons, ammunition, and accoutrements, along with whatever else there was of use to the community. Finally, a couple of the others began to help.
It was a somber group that went to their homes late that afternoon. Another hard job was at hand for most of them. Explaining to the children, kept safe in the shelter, what had gone on. And why.
The eclectic accumulation of weapons, ammunition, and accoutrements was divided up among those that wanted them. Several additional people opted to take a weapon, that hadn’t before. The lessons being learned were hard ones, but made a real impression.
Hank again took only one of the weapons. No one else really wanted it, anyway. One of the Model 2900 Trillings imported for a while by Armsport. It was a three barrel shotgun, similar to a drilling, but nowhere near the quality of most drillings. The action was sound, however, and Hank cut the barrels down to just past the forearm. The butt stock was cut down and contoured to pistol grip form.
When Juan saw Hank carrying it stuck in his belt in cross draw fashion, he offered to make a holster for it. Juan made all his own leather gear for Cowboy Action Shooting, and picked up a few bucks extra making custom gear for other shooters. In addition to the holster, Juan made up two six-shell ready loops so Hank could carry twelve extra shells for the gun.
Though a constant radio watch was maintained, and contacts had been made, there had been none close by. Shortly after the harvests began, one of the pre-teens monitoring the radio while babysitting suddenly perked up. The signal was a strong one. Someone was talking to another person that Angie couldn’t hear.
Calling for one of the other teens to watch the kids, Angie ran to find Hank. He was making rounds on the four-wheeler, giving advice and helping where he could with the harvest of the community garden and his huge garden, while keeping an eye on the woods around the cul-de-sac.
“Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith!” Angie called, running up to the four-wheeler. “Someone on the radio. I think they’re close! Talking to someone I couldn’t hear!”
“Okay, Angie! Thanks. Would you get Henry, Pete, and Elizabeth for me, please? You don’t have to run.”
Angie ran anyway. The three requested co-leaders of the community showed up a couple of minutes after Hank got to the radio. They were followed by about half of the rest of the population, Angie’s loud explanations heard by many more than the ones to whom they were intended.
Hank listened to the one-ended conversation. He paled, as did the other adults that could hear the radio. The strong voice on the radio was giving battle orders to someone.
“You think it’s military?” asked Bren.
Henry spoke first. “They wouldn’t be using an amateur frequency. They have encoded radios.”
“I agree,” Hank said. “I think it is a gang of some sort. Trying to take over a community, probably much like ours.”
Several people began to utter their concerns, but were quickly hushed. The final words out of the radio, before it fell silent, was, “Go! Go! Go! No survivors!” Everyone waited for quite some time, and Hank began to scan the same band, in case the gang had changed frequencies. But he didn’t find anything else.
“We need to discuss this,” Hank said quietly. “But this evening. We need to get on with the harvest.”
People turned away, talking quietly among themselves. Henry, Pete, Elizabeth, Stan, and Bren lagged behind to talk to Hank. But Hank was thinking and limped past them without even seeing them.
They watched silently, following Hank outside, as he got on the four-wheeler and headed for the gate. “He’s surveying the defenses,” Henry said.
“I hope he comes up with some ideas,” Bren said. “That didn’t sound good at all. A bunch of yahoos is one thing, like we’ve come up against already. That sounded like those people knew what they were doing.”
The meeting began as an uproar and got worse as Hank tried to get everyone’s attention. Hank finally gave up and sat down. It was a good ten minutes before the group seemed to have argued itself silent. All heads turned to Hank when he stood up again.
“Okay. We have a potential problem. We need to decide what to do. I take it the word has spread to everyone that there is a much more organized gang out there than what we’ve faced in the past. A gang we might have trouble handling, given the small amount of information we have.”
There were nods and a few calls to do this or that. Hank’s expression went hard when Sara, barely able to get out and around due to the radiation sickness that had decimated her family spoke up. Only she and Steven were ambulatory, and very weak. Bernie was keeping the three children alive, but barely. She had told Hank privately that they stood little chance of recovery.
“We should try and contact them,” Sara said. “Offer them some food and fuel to leave us alone.” There were a few murmurs of support of the idea.
Hank was adamant. “If that becomes the plan, you’all will have to do it without me. I’ll pack my Suburban and trailer and go. Appeasement doesn’t work for long. It only gives a group a better insight into the group making the offer.”
“I’m with you, Hank,” Henry said. He was angry again. “My dad fought in World War II because the world tried to appease Hitler instead of taking him on when he was still weak. No appeasement!”
There were some supporting Henry and Hank, but the overwhelming majority of the community was still undecided.
“Well… What do we do if we don’t try to make a peace with them?” asked one of the others.
“We seek them out and do as much damage to them as possible,” Hank replied. “Then we let them chase us back here and catch them in an ambush.”
“That’s crazy!” shouted Steven, Sara’s husband. “We’ll just get people killed and then lead them right to our door step!”
Bren spoke up then, a bit reluctantly. “He’s got a point, Hank. Do we really want to lead them back to us? If we just stay quiet, maybe they won’t discover us.”
“You’re forgetting Chap Hunniker. He knows where we are and what we have. If that gang catches him, or even anyone with whom he’s trading goods, the word will get back to the gang. It’s only a matter of time before they come looking for us.” Hank’s words had a profound effect on many of the members of the group.
Chap Hunniker had showed up one day, offering to trade salt for food and fuel. Salt was one of the items that neither Hank, nor any of the others, had stocked up enough for the long term. He would show up about once a month with another mule load of salt and empty panniers on two other mules. He left each time with his two five-gallon cans full of gasoline, and food stuffs on the other mules. He was closed mouth about where he was trading. He didn’t want the community doing their own trading, leaving him without a way to make a living.
Though he provided a needed service, no one trusted him. He would talk to save his own hide.
There was silence for a long time. Hank finally spoke again. “Let me see what kind of plan I can come up and we’ll vote on it the next meeting. Hopefully, if the group has just taken over a place, they may not be on the warpath again for a while. Hopefully we’ll have time to find them and do something before they find us.”
As the meeting broke up, Hank signaled for several people to stay behind. “I’m going to need your help and support on this, if you are in agreement with me,” he told the small group that was the de-facto government of the community. All nodded and then went to their own homes to think about the situation.
Hank, after surveying the entire property they were trying to protect, went home and got out his laptop. Over the years of visiting prep web sites, he’d saved a tremendous amount of information. He spent most of the night reviewing anything about fortifications.
Finally, with a few ideas in his head, Hank went to bed.
As he woke slowly the next morning, the plans for the community defenses finalized itself in his mind. As soon as he had eaten breakfast, he set out on the four-wheeler and did another complete survey of the property, making sketches on a large pad as he went.
The harvest was still going strong, and Hank waited for the late afternoon before he brought his team together and went over what he had planned. Just about all of them had a suggestion or two, amidst a steady stream of questions that Hank answered in detail.
“Where are we going to get the stuff?” Elizabeth asked.
“Juan will know, I’m sure,” Hank said. “But Home Depot and Builders Mart should have much of it. The Farm Store, too. And we can get the bentonite at the big golf course. I’m sure they use it to seal their water hazards.”
“Going to be a lot of work,” Pete said. “I think we should go ahead and put a couple of people on the preliminaries. Digging the fortifications, mainly. And send someone to try and locate the gang. Someone that won’t get caught.”
“I’ll bring it up at the meeting,” Hank said. “Just to check, we’re all in favor of the plan. There are going to be several that don’t like it at all.”
“I see it as the best possibility to save ourselves, if that outfit tries anything,” Elizabeth said.
The meeting that evening started much like the last one. A raucous mass of sound with little meaning. But it quieted down when Hank stood up. He spent all of twenty minutes outlining the plan of action, and the increased fortifications the team wanted to do.
There was silence at first, when Hank sat down. Then murmurs as family members talked it over with each other and with those sitting near them in the community building. Silence fell again. Sara was the first one to speak up.
“If trying to cooperate with the gang is out, I say we pack up and leave, lock, stock, and barrel. We have all the trailers just sitting, and enough trucks to pull them, if we make several trips.”
“Where would we go, that has the advantages this place does?” someone ask.
Sara shook her head. “I don’t know. We’d have to research that.”
Hank looked over at the door suddenly, seeing some movement out of the corner of his eyes. It was Juan. He was on gate watch. Stepping around him, Chap Hunniker came into the room.
“Hank, Chap wants to talk to you. From what he told me, the whole community might want to hear it direct from him.”
Hank nodded and motioned for Chap to come up to the table behind which Hank was sitting, facing the group.
“What’s on your mind, Chap?” Hank asked.
“You guys are in big trouble. If I was you, I’d pack up and leave. Right now.”
There was an uproar, but Hank lifted a hand and quiet resumed. “Why?” Hank asked Chap.
“There’s a big gang out there gunning for you. They… Uh… found out about your place here and aim to hit it after the harvest is done so they can take it all. They ain’t very nice folks, let me tell you.” Chap rubbed his jaw. It showed the effects of being roundly beaten for the information he’d given the gang leader. Even though Chap had told all he knew, right off the bat. The leader wanted to make sure Chap had given up everything.
“I just want to trade for a few supplies and take off for safer parts. I hear the National Guard is getting their act together, cross state. I’m heading for them.”
“And when did you plan on telling us about the National Guard, Chap?” asked Pete. “That could make a big difference in what happens from now on.”
“Don’t matter here,” Chap said, shrugging. “They aren’t going anywhere until spring. Supposed to have fuel and stuff they need then.”
It was a disappointment. “Can’t we get them on the radio and ask for help?” asked Sara.
“Done been tried,” Chap said. “The last place tried it. They were turned down flat. Everyone is on their own until the National Guard can mobilize properly. At least that’s what the guys there told me. That was after Gustav… that’s the head guy of the gang… contacted them and told them to surrender… or else. The idiots chose to fight.”
“And just how did you managed to get yourself caught?” Hank suddenly asked.
Chap turned red. “I tried to save my stuff. Couldn’t get away fast enough when the group decided to fight.”
“Chap, why don’t you hang around for a bit? We might want to ask you some more questions.”
Chap didn’t look happy, but seeing several of the group standing near the door, he found an out of the way place and sat down.
“All right,” Hank said, looking out at the crowd. “Those that want to go should make their plans. Those of us staying need to know how many people we can count on for the battle that looks inevitable.”
There was pandemonium for a few moments, but it quickly quieted as Hank held up his hand. “I plan to stay and fight for what we’ve done here. If we weather this, and the National Guard will be around later, we should be safe for a long time. Those of you that run… well… you’ll be on your own, open to attacks by any small force.”
“That’s not fair!” cried Sara. “Everyone should help those of us that are going to leave!” She looked around and saw only a few faces that seemed to support her. Most of those looked away when their eyes met hers.
She slumped back in the chair. “I guess we’re staying,” she said softly.
That was enough to kill the idea in any of the others that had been thinking about joining her in an exodus.
“We need to get started on a plan,” Hank said. “And we need a volunteer for a dangerous job. We need someone to go keep an eye on this gang, and warn us when they get ready to make a move on the community here.”
People looked around at one another in dead silence. At least for a few moments. Finally Stan stood up and said, “I’m your man, Hank.” His wife put a hand on his arm to urge him to sit down.
“Got to, Honey. These folks took us in. With all we had, I don’t think we would have survived long without their help.” Stan’s wife nodded and her hands went to her lap, clasped tightly together.
“Okay,” Hank said. “Hang around for a few minutes, those that have ideas for increasing our defenses. The rest of you might as well go home and get some rest. The harvest is going to be done shorthanded; as many of the able bodies will be working on whatever defenses we can come up with.”
Only Elizabeth and Juan, Pete, Bren, Henry, and Stan stayed behind. Stan caught Chap by the back of his jacket when he started to ease out of the room. “I think we may have some more questions for you.”
“You got no right to hold me! There ain’t no laws now!” Chap lunged once, but Stan had a tight hold on him.
“There are still laws. The natural, inalienable rights and laws that good people observe automatically. Now sit down over there and shut up until we ask you something.”
It is a sad sight to see a grown man pout, but that was what the small group saw when Chap sat down.
“We’d better grill Chap before we lose him,” Stan told the group, speaking softly.
“I know. We can’t make him stay,” Hank replied. The group discussed for a moment the information they needed to get from Chap, and then Hank stepped over in front of him.
Chap flinched a bit. “We’re not going to hurt you. And we’re not going to keep you here for the battle to come. We just want some additional information.”
“I don’t know nothin’ more!” protested Chap.
“You probably know more than you think you know,” Pete said. “Like… How many are there in the gang?”
“They’ll kill me if I help you,” whined Chap.
“They’ll kill you if they catch you again anyway, Chap,” Hank said. “They’ll just assume you helped us.”
Chap groaned. “Okay! Okay! You are probably right. And you’ll let me go after I tell you what I know?”
“You have my word,” Hank said. Chap saw the looks on Henry’s and Stan’s faces and shuddered slightly.
“How many in the gang?” prompted Pete.
“There’s about forty when I left. Plus maybe twenty… twenty-five women. All but a couple of them are pretty much just slaves. Aren’t any kids that I saw.”
The number of men was a blow. Hank and the others looked at each other. “There has to be a way,” Pete said. “There’s always a way.”
“Not always,” Chap said. He got a glare from every one of the others and shrank back in his chair.
“What that means…” Hank said, but another glance at Chap and his voice trailed away.
“I ain’t going to tell no one,” Chap protested.
“You aren’t because you aren’t going to know,” Hank said. And then he and the others grilled Chap for almost an hour getting much more information from him than he knew he had, just as Pete had said.
It did not sound good. It would take a daring plan, well executed, and at least some luck, for the residents of the cul-de-sac to survive what was coming. The planning group broke up at midnight that night, with no set plan, but scheduled to consider things again after everyone got a night’s sleep.
At noon the next day, with the majority of the people in the cul-de-sac harvesting and processing food, Hank and his handful of advisors met again. Stan was equipped with supplies for a month, a bicycle, and bicycle toddler trailer to haul the supplies. He left the compound, headed for the small farm where the gang was now, according to Chap.
Chap was nowhere to be found. But that didn’t deter the others. They’d gleaned as much from him as they were likely to get. And the night of sleep, though short, had allowed each of the group to come up with some ideas on how to increase their defenses and defeat the gang.
Once the idea of going after the gang was put to rest, the group turned to the defense of the cul-de-sac. It was quickly decided to keep the children and teens in the shelter, with the majority of the women on top of it, keeping watch on the woods. Though it made it easier to come through them, the removal of much of the brush that had grown willy-nilly among the trees to be used for firewood, allowed the women to see deep into the growth. They would have to deal with any infiltrators coming through the woods.
Hank explained his idea on how to cope with the Caterpillar D-10 dozer that Chap had said the gang used to breach fortifications. There was much discussion on whether it would work or not, but the decision was made to do it.
“I wish we had something better than Oliver’s .300 Winchester Magnum to snipe with,” Hank said during a break. “You can see several places on the approach from my house. More from the roof.”
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to bring it up…” Pete said, a bit awkwardly for him. “I’ve got a Barrett M82A1 rifle with scope that uses the fifty caliber Browning Machinegun round. I’ve only shot it a couple of times… and… I don’t know if I could be a sniper. Seeing faces close up with the scope and just… killing them… in cold blood…”
“If you can show me how to use it,” Henry said immediately, “I can do what has to be done. My conscience won’t bother me a bit.”
Pete looked relieved. He knew the Barrett could be a key component of their defense, but just hadn’t wanted to be the one to use it the way it should be used.
“I’ve got something for you to do,” Hank told Pete. “I want you in charge of the tank… er… dozer trap. And Juan, you’re the best on the heavy equipment. Help Pete first, and then you’ll start digging with the excavator.”
Hank turned to Bren. “You think you can run the small grader well enough to put a slope on the ditch in front of the trailers?”
Bren nodded. “I’m sure I can. But why?”
“I’ll come to that,” Hank said, the ideas the others had offered coalescing into a workable plan. “Elizabeth, I need you and a couple of others to go in after some other things. Pete gets priority of the equipment, but I want you to gather up the rest of the supplies we need while he gets the parts for the tank trap.”
Elizabeth nodded. Hank filled them in on his plan. There was much skepticism, but Hank’s plan was the best any of them could think of. The individuals set off to do as asked. Hank got on the four-wheeler and went out to survey the locations for the additional fortifications.