After the Fall: Jason's Tale (18 page)

Catherine stood up, her fists clenched at her side, her dark
eyes now blazed in anger. “Mr. Turner, we just had to fight for our lives
today. Without Jason, my mother, my sister and I would be raped, enslaved or
dead right now. So, don’t you talk to him like that. You have no right. He
hasn’t done you any harm and he saved our family.” Tears began to well up in
her eyes. She fought them back and stared directly at the old man, her body
shaking with emotion.

Jason stood up and put his arm around Catherine. “She’s
right.” He turned to John Sands, “John, help us. Together we can save
ourselves—this valley. We need your help.”

“All right, I’ll help. But it scares me. I don’t know much
about guns and shooting, but I can try.” John responded.

“I’m in,” Andy said. “I don’t move so well but I know how to
shoot.”

“Both Betty and me are in, aren’t we?” Tom looked to his
wife who nodded.

“I’ve hunted for years,” Betty said.

“She’s a good shot too,” Tom added.

“This will be like hunting, only it’s more dangerous game,”
Betty said. “I don’t want to give scum like that a chance to do us harm. I had
friends in Clifton Furnace…we all did.”

“I can run that M60. Is there any ammunition for it?” Tom
asked. Jason nodded. “Okay, where do we fight them?” he continued.

“The best place to set up an ambush is at the bridge. It’s
single lane and the road is hemmed in by the cliffs cut into the ridge. We set
up on the high ground, we stop the vehicles on the bridge and the gorge on the
valley side becomes a killing zone.”

“So what’s next?” John asked.

“Catherine and I will take you and Andy and Claire back to
your farms. Gather some food and water and meet at our farm. Do you have a way
to get there? We need to head back after we drop you off to collect weapons and
ammunition.”

“I’ve got a pickup that runs, still have some gas left,”
Andy said. “I’ll collect everyone and bring them down.”

Ray stood and motioned for Billy to follow him. Billy looked
at Catherine, his eyes wide. He had been staring at her ever since she spoke.

“Ray, are you going to join us?” Jason asked as he shuffled
past. Ray just glared back at him and left without a word.

“Ignore him,” Tom said.

“We’ll go over weapons when you get to the farm. I suggest
you all stay there tonight. We can head for the bridge first thing in the
morning to set up our ambush,” Jason said.

“John, why don’t you have Natalie and Lisa come to our
house. They can stay with me while you’re gone,” Claire said. “They’ll be as
safe as they can be at our place.”

John nodded and the meeting broke up. Jason and Catherine
dropped John, Andy and Claire off and set out for home. It was mid-afternoon.
Exhaustion from the battle and the stress of negotiating with the others
finally caught up with them. He could see Catherine’s head nodding as fatigue
overwhelmed her. She finally slouched over on the bench seat, laying her head
on Jason’s leg, and fell fast asleep. Jason hung his head out of the window,
trying to stay awake.

When they reached the farm Catherine was still asleep. Jason
left her in the cab and went in to Anne and Sarah. Anne had moved Sarah to the
couch, away from the mess left in the kitchen from the battle. Sarah was half
reclining. Her forehead was tightly wrapped and she held bandages on the side
of her head over the deep cut.

“How did it go? Are the others going to help?” Anne asked as
he entered the room.

“Everyone is going to help except for the Turners.”

Looking past Jason, Anne asked, “Where’s Catherine?”

“She’s asleep in the pickup. The stress of the battle and
talking with everyone was too much for her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“The others are coming here later today. We’re going to plan
our defense and set up tomorrow.”

Anne looked around in distress, “The house is so torn apart.
There’s no time to clean it.”

Jason took her in his arms and hugged her, “My sweetheart,
earlier the warrior and now the hostess. Don’t fret. We’ll have all the time we
need to clean and repair things, but not now.”

“Will we? Tell me truly. I need the truth about what is
going to happen. You must be honest with me…about our chances,” Anne said.

“It will be hard. We’ll defend ourselves at the
bridge—ambush the gang there. It’s our best chance to defeat them. Afterwards
we will have time to clean. How can I think otherwise?” His stomach tightened
as he made the promise. How would this all turn out? Would this small group of
defenders, mostly novices, be able to stand against hardened outlaws? Besides
himself, they had only one combat veteran. Even with their advantageous
position, he wasn’t sure this was not a suicide mission; one he was sending
Catherine on as well as the rest. Doubt began to creep into his thoughts; he
forced it down. Now was the time for hardness, not doubt. He had set the group on
this path and it would need hard men and women to make it successful.

He turned to Sarah, “How are you doing my warrior princess?”

“I’m impersonating the mummy,” she said and tried to smile.

“You look beautiful to me,” Jason said.

“No I don’t. I’m going to have big scars all over my face.”
Tears began to well up in her eyes.

“No. There may be two small scars but they won’t overcome
your beauty. Your beauty is too great. They will only add intrigue.”

Sarah tried to smile.

“I think we are all feeling overwhelmed,” Anne said.

“Let’s get some food together. Then maybe we should get
Sarah to bed.”

“I don’t want to move. I don’t want to be alone,” Sarah
said.

“If you want to stay downstairs when everyone comes, you
can,” Anne replied.

“We need to eat something now,” Jason said as he led Anne
into the kitchen.

Quietly he said to her, “As I told you before, suturing
Sarah’s wounds will have to wait. I have to get everything together—the guns
and ammo—and plan our defense. Early tomorrow morning we’ll go down to the
bridge. If they’re coming, it could well be tomorrow.”

“So you are sure they’ll be back?”

“Whether or not I’m sure, we have to be ready. It’s
foolishness not to be.”

“I understand, but do you think they actually will come
back?” she pressed him.

Jason paused and looked at Anne, “Yes, I think they will
return.” Anne saw his face begin to change, his eyes becoming dark. She
shuddered as she looked at the man she loved.

“There will be more killing, a lot of it…” Her voice trailed
off.

Jason just looked at her. His face was now hard with a cold
intent growing inside. There was no tenderness now. Something dark was there,
something to do with killing. No matter what the rest could do, he had to be a
lethal force. “There will be killing, but I am the one who will be doing it.”

Anne shuddered again both at his countenance and his words.

It was late in the day when the survivors of the attack, in
their shot-up pickup truck, arrived back in Clifton Furnace. One of Big Jacks’
captains saw them pull up. He could see the destroyed windshield and bullet
holes in the truck’s bodywork. He turned and ran to get Big Jacks. The men were
not able to melt away before he came out of the house. He took one look at the
truck and strode over to it with a dangerous expression on his face.

“What happened? Where’s the other truck? Where’s the rest of
the men?” No one answered. Big Jacks grabbed the closest guy by the neck and
yanked him off his feet.

“Answer me, maggot, or I’ll ring your neck.”

The hapless outlaw, now dangling from Big Jacks’ grip, could
only croak, suspended in the air, his eyes bulging in fear and pain. Big Jacks
put him down but kept his hands on him.

The man said in a weak, terrified voice, “We were ambushed.
They had sharpshooters pinning us down. They almost killed us all. We tried to
rush the house, but they took out too many of us. We barely got away.”

Big Jacks lowered his voice, now more menacing than ever,
“What happened to the M60?”

“The driver got shot right away. The rest bailed for cover
and the truck turned over. We never got it into the action.”

“You idiots.” He shouted, smashing his huge fist into the
man’s head and snapping his neck. Everyone backed away a few steps. This was
not the time to catch Big Jacks’ eye. He looked around, his face contorted in
anger, “We’re going back there and we’re going to take this group out, burn
their house down, kill them and eat them. I’m going to cut out the heart of
their leader.” Looking at the other men who had returned, he declared, “You’re
going to lead the charge…I’m putting you at the front when we go after them.”
Turning back to the house, he yelled, “Get everyone ready.” People began to
scurry away in different directions.

As they walked back to the house, one of his captains
suggested, “We probably need to keep some men back to guard our gear.”

Big Jacks glared at him. “I want forty men, get four trucks
ready.”

“That will leave enough to guard things here in town,” the
man said. He planned to be among those he was organizing to stay in town.

“Get busy,” Big Jacks growled continuing on to the house.
“We’re bringing the M2. Make sure Mo’s on it. I’ll rip that house apart with
it.”

The M2 weighed one hundred and twenty-five pounds, with its
center mount tripod. The weapon fired a powerful .50 caliber round from a belt
feed. The rounds could penetrate an engine block. Mo was a big man; larger than
anyone except Big Jacks. He could handle the large gun. If necessary he could
fire it from his arms. The gun would explode concrete block and could tear down
the walls of the farmhouse, shredding them and exposing anyone inside. Big
Jacks was not going to allow any further defeat, so he would use the gun even
if ammunition was scarce.

As they entered their house, his captain asked, “Do you
think this is a vigilante group? The last thing we need is to run into a group
like that.”

Big Jacks gave him a hard look. The man cowered. “You think
we can’t handle some vigilantes? That what you think?” Now frightened, the man
shook his head. “We’re the strongest gang around.” Big Jacks continued, “We
ain’t run from anyone since we left Charlotte. Soon we’ll have a big town to
control, one with lots of resources. You better not be talking like that in
front of the others.”

Again the man just shook his head, too afraid to speak.

“Anyway they wouldn’t be holed up in a farmhouse if they was
vigilantes. I figure they must have something really valuable to protect.”

“That’s what I was thinking. There’s some good loot for us,”
the man agreed eagerly.

“This valley must have a lot of resources. Maybe this farm
is the main defense for the whole valley. We take it out and we have the rest,
ripe for the pickin’.”

The captain licked his lips in anticipation and nodded in
assent.

“Pass the word around as you get the men together. I’m betting
there’s food, fuel, ammunition and weapons for us tomorrow. And probably some
women on top of that. You tell ‘em. I want them fired up and ready to kill.”

Big Jacks’ challenge was that the larger and more lethal his
gang grew, the more resources it consumed. He was in a race to grow large
enough to take over a good sized town that could support him before he ran out
of resources in the countryside. Loyalty was built on the shaky principle of
being able to continually provide booty; food, fuel, women. He looked forward
to the next day’s fight. It would bring both revenge and riches.

Jason set about collecting the weapons and ammunition from
the men in the yard. He laid them out on the dining room table and piled the
boxes of ammunition on the floor nearby. It was nearing dusk when the others
arrived. They stood for some time surveying the battle scene. There were bodies
lying in the yard, the house had all of its windows that faced the yard shot
out and the walls were splintered with bullet holes.

The group picked their way through the carnage and entered
the house quietly, not knowing what to say to Anne after seeing first-hand the
evidence of that day’s violence. Anne had swept up much of the broken glass
from the first floor, but everyone could still see the enormous damage the
house had suffered. It brought home the intensity of the battle the family had
experienced. The group greeted her shyly. It seemed wrong to act normal—as if
nothing happened—but no one wanted to acknowledge the enormity of what had
taken place.

Betty immediately went to Anne and gave her a big hug. “Oh
my dear, how are you?”

“I’m as good as can be expected,” Anne replied.

Turning to Sarah, Betty asked, “Sarah, how are you doing?”
Sarah still had a bandage wrapped around her forehead. On the side of her face
Anne had put a compress bandage and tape.

“I guess I’m okay. Jason says I won’t have bad scars, but I
think he’s just being nice.”

“We all heard about your battle. It’s amazing you’re all
alive. I think you are all heroes for what you did. Now we’re going to make
sure those thugs never come back.”

Sarah shuddered. “I hope I never see something like that
again in my life.”

Betty patted her shoulder, “We’ll make that happen, don’t
you worry.”

Everyone assembled everyone in the living room. “You’ve got
quite an arsenal here,” Tom marveled.

“From this battle and some prior run-ins with gangs. I
collected the weapons and ammo. It all seemed too valuable to leave.”

“You got that right,” Tom replied. He stepped over to the
weapons, “May I take one of the rifles? I’ll need something other than just the
M60, in case that jams.”

“Absolutely. Take one of the carbines that fire the .223
round. I have more of that ammunition than anything else.”

John Sands just stood there looking perplexed at the weapons
and piles of ammunition. “Jason, I don’t know where to begin. These guns look
so complicated.”

Tom stepped forward to examine the guns laid on the table. “You
should take this lever action 30-30. It’s simple to load and use.” He looked at
Jason.

“That belonged to a friend of mine. He would be proud to
have someone using his rifle in this battle,” Jason replied. Then he went over
his plan for setting up the ambush.

The ridge enclosing the valley to the south was lower than
the others. The stream that drained the valley had cut a gap in the ridge to
join a river flowing to the east. The narrow gorge created by the stream had
been widened to accommodate the road which exited the valley over a narrow
truss bridge. The bridge connected to a larger county road that ran along side
of the river leading to Clifton Furnace about ten miles east of the bridge.

Jason explained his battle plan. “They’ll come in pickup
trucks. The bridge is one lane, so if we stop the lead truck, it will block the
others. We’ll position ourselves on the ridges on each side of the road. We
will have the high ground and can fire away at them as they’re stacked up at
the bridge. If they charge over the bridge, we just have to keep up a strong
rate of fire and take them out. There’s no place to hide. The road in the gorge
will be the kill zone. They’ll be hemmed in, and if we keep them from getting
past the tight part of the gorge, they can’t get out.”

“How do we stop the lead truck? We don’t have any heavy
weapons,” Andy asked.

“We shoot the driver. I’ve done it before. When it’s time to
open fire, everyone should send their initial rounds at the lead truck. No one
in the cab should remain alive.”

The group discussed the details as the evening closed in.
Mattresses and blankets were brought down to the living room and everyone
bedded down for what sleep they could get. For most, it was a fitful night of
tossing and turning.

Jason and Anne awoke early, before dawn. Anne set out to fry
up some meat for everyone while Jason went through the ammunition and weapons
one more time.

Tom joined him. “I want to go over the M60 as soon as it’s
light. We have to remove it from the cab of the truck. I won’t last a minute
firing from such an exposed position.”

“We also can’t have the trucks around. They’ll know there’s
an ambush if they see them,” Jason replied.

“Yeah. I think we haul everyone down to the gorge and then
move the trucks back around the bend so they can’t be seen.” They went out to
the yard and began to unbolt the machine gun.

The others soon arose and as the sun came up everyone was
eating or assembling their personal gear. As the group busied themselves in the
living room, Ray and Billy arrived at the front door. Anne let them in. They
quietly sidled into the living room. Everyone stopped to stare.

Finally Jason broke the silence, “Thank you for joining us.”

Ray looked at him, “Turners have lived in this valley for
generations. I’m not going to let this gang just come in here to take over.
We’ve had enough strangers in this valley.”

Jason ignored the barb. “Do you want any of the weapons I’ve
collected?”

“We use our own. We know how they shoot. We may not shoot as
fast, but our shots will all count.” They were both carrying bolt action, 30-06
caliber rifles with five shot magazines.

“Well, help yourself to more ammunition,” he pointed to some
boxes at the side of the pile.

Ray went over and started looking through the boxes. Billy
stood at the edge of the room, staring at Sarah sitting on the couch. Finally
Sarah noticed him.

“What are you looking at?” she demanded.

Billy kept looking at her with an amazed expression on his
face. “You’re hurt.” It was all he could say.

“I guess I am. Do I look ugly to you?” she said challenging
him.

Billy shook his head. “You…you’re all growed up,” he blurted
out. “I mean…you look good, not ugly.” His face was now turning red.

Catherine noticed the interchange and stepped in front of
Sarah. “Billy, get some ammunition and leave Sarah alone. We’ve got to get
going soon.”

Billy turned away, still looking embarrassed. Jason reviewed
the battle plan with Ray and his son. Then the group headed outside. Jason had
the M110 sniper rifle firing a 7.62 round along with his Ruger .223. Catherine
had her .223 carbine. Both of them carried 9mm pistols on their belts. Tom
Walsh took charge of the M60, and a .223 carbine. Betty Walsh had her 30-06
semi automatic rifle, the same caliber as Ray and Billy carried. Andy Nolan
chose one of the .223 carbines after some instruction from Tom. John Sands
carried Sam’s rifle that Tom had suggested. Everyone’s pockets were stuffed
with ammunition.

Anne and Sarah came out on the porch. Anne had her Bible in
her hand. The others in the yard turned to her and she spoke. “I grew up going
to church every Sunday as did most of you. Maybe we haven’t been so good about
attending over the years, I know I haven’t. And maybe some of us wonder where
God is in these troubling times, I know I do. But I still want to offer a
blessing on this day.” She opened her Bible and read from the Psalms.

I have pursued mine enemies and
overtaken them:

Neither did I turn away again
till they were consumed.

I have wounded them,

That they were not able to rise:

They are fallen under my feet.

For Thou hast girded me with
strength unto the battle;

Thou hast subdued under me those
who rose up against me.

Thou hast also given me the
necks of mine enemies,

That I might destroy them that
hate me.

They cried out, but there was
none to save them,

Even unto the Lord, but He
answered them not.

Then I did beat them as small as
the dust before the wind;

I did cast them out as the dirt
in the streets.

And further;

 I will lift up mine eyes
unto the hills—

From whence cometh my help?

My help cometh from the Lord,

Who made Heaven and Earth.

He will not suffer thy foot to
be moved;

He that keepeth thee will not
slumber.

The Lord is thy protector.

Everyone stood quietly as the ancient words, three thousand
years old, rolled over them. These were not only words of faith, but words of
battle, calling for destruction of the enemy. There was no equivocating in what
they meant; the enemy needed to be destroyed and the psalms called for God’s
help and protection in accomplishing that destruction. The words recalled a
time of violence and death as well as faith. Would today be such a time?

“May God protect and keep you all safe and give you victory
over the evil that assaults us,” Anne said in closing.

As Jason turned to go, Anne grabbed him and hugged him
fiercely, trying to wrap some of her strength around him.