Daunting Days of Winter (42 page)

“You have a mother who’s been through a lot, and that’s enough,” Sean replied. “No one doubts your courage, but you’re not doing it.” Sean pointed behind David. “Ty, you sure you’re up for this?”

Kyle heard his friend speak up as he approached Sean. “Luther took my place last time. I’ll do what I need to do to keep my family safe.”

“Okay, then you’ll go, plus Anthony over there.” Sean indicated another man with his hand raised. “I want the rest of you to quickly move that dump truck. Get it the rest of the way across the road, then push some of these cars up beside it. Lets give them four or five layers to get through. We can at least stop them for a minute or two, give Ty and Anthony a chance at crippling them.” Sean huddled with the two volunteers, instructing them on how to most effectively use the grenades against the armored vehicle, while the other men rolled the roadblocks into position.

With forty pairs of hands and the vehicles pre-staged, it only took a couple of minutes to have the bridge from the freeway blocked six vehicles deep. With the exception of Ty and Anthony, now concealed under the bridge, the militia members were safely back behind their barricades when the first of the military vehicles rolled to a stop on the north side of the river.

“What do you think, David?” Kyle asked his son as they watched thick exhaust billow from the rear of the lead vehicle. “These good guys or bad guys?”

David’s hands shook as he handled his weapon. “I hope they’re good guys, but I don’t know. It says US ARMY on the side, so maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Hope so. But if I was a bad guy, I’d put that on there, too.” Kyle looked at Sean, who was standing and watching the situation. “Can we shoot out the windshield?”

Sean shook his head slowly. “Just be wasting our ammo if we tried. The thing’s built for combat zones. Hope our friends under the bridge are on target if they come in hot. Really wish we had some ammo for Rusty’s 50 caliber. That would get their attention.”

No one emerged from the Guardian, and after idling for thirty seconds, it kicked back into gear and slowly approached the bridge.

“Everyone down low!” Sean ordered. “That machine has some pretty powerful weapons. If they’re pointed at you, you’d better be as low as you can get.”

The men collectively drew in their breath as the wheels of the machine rolled onto the bridge. Every man in the company waited, searching for any vulnerability in the machine. Kyle spotted what appeared to be bullet dings in the side door, but with the distance separating them, he couldn’t be sure.

Compared to the usual quiet of the community, the dull roar of the vehicle’s engine was eerie and threatening, like the growl of some ancient demon that was to be fought off by villagers with their sticks and stones. “I don’t want anyone shooting until there’s something to shoot at, understand?!” Sean looked to both barricades as he shouted his orders. Only a few people still stood. The rest were hidden behind felled trees, boulders, and whatever other cover had been built into the barricades over the past months.

The men, visibly scared of the approaching threat, murmured their assent. Everyone waited and watched, an overpowering sense of dread settling on them as the sand-colored vehicle rolled slowly forward.

“Tell Mom I love her, if I don’t make it. And Emma. And Spencer too.”

Kyle could see David’s eyes glistening and wondered why his own weren’t as well. “You can tell them yourself, David. We’ve come through too much to have this be the end. We’ll just be careful and smart, right?”

David nodded stiffly, his hands and arms shaking as he leaned against the thick tree in front of him.

“Do you know how much I love you? How proud I am to be your father?” Kyle slid over and wrapped his arm around his son’s shoulder. “Dads don’t tell their kids that often enough, especially as they get older. I want you to remember that, though, no matter what happens today. You understand?”

David nodded. “I do. But thanks for saying it. I’m proud to have you as my dad, too.” David looked at Kyle and smiled, then glanced back at the road. “They’ve stopped,” he said, motioning with his head towards the military vehicle.

Kyle slid back to his spot along the barricade and aimed his rifle at the vehicle, which had stopped a hundred feet from the tangle of vehicles pushed together in anticipation of its arrival.

“It’s retreating!” someone shouted from the far barricade as the vehicle revved and began to move backwards, its wheels turning and angling the door away from the blockade.

The men let out a suppressed cheer, then the vehicle stopped at a forty-five degree angle to the road. The engine shut down and everything became deathly silent. Even the birds and breeze were still.

After ten seconds of complete silence, the groaning of metal on metal was heard. “I think they’re opening a hatch,” Kyle whispered to David as they strained to see what was happening just a stone’s throw away. A door squeaked on its hinges as it swung open, then banged with a dull thud against the side of the vehicle.

“No one fire!” Sean shouted. “Let’s see what’s happening here.”

A pair of boots hit the ground and moved to the front of the vehicle, where a soldier in full combat gear paused, then came forward carrying a US flag on a six-foot pole. He approached the bridge slowly and formally with the flag aloft, then stopped halfway between his vehicle and the blockade of cars on the south side of the bridge and waited expectantly.

“Kyle. Craig,” Sean shouted. “Come with me out to meet this guy.” Sean moved from behind the barricade towards the cluster of cars.

Kyle slung his rifle over his shoulder, climbed over the top of the barricade and moved towards the bridge, as did Sean’s brother, Craig, from the far barricade.

“Be careful, Dad,” David whispered as Kyle descended the bank. “I love you, too, you know.”

Kyle turned and smiled at his son, then ran ahead and climbed onto the closest car, carefully stepping across the hoods of the vehicles to where Sean was waiting on the bridge, jumping down from the back of a white pickup a step ahead of Craig.

Sean smiled, his face awash with relief. “I think we’re going to be alright, gentlemen. Let’s go talk to this soldier and see what he has to say.”

The three men advanced side by side towards the soldier, their nerves settling, their confidence building with each step. They stopped five feet from the soldier and Sean extended his hand. “Sean Reider,” he said. “Militia leader.”

The soldier stepped forward with his hand extended. “Private First Class Lance Castillo,” he responded as he shook hands with Sean.

Kyle noticed the soldier appeared nervous as well, despite being well armed and clad head to toe in body armor.

“I assure you that we are here peacefully,” PFC Castillo said. He was all business now as he spoke, his face betraying little emotion beyond a slight quiver in his voice. “I must receive an assurance of a peaceful response before Sergeant Chandler will speak to you.”

Sean smiled. “I can assure you that we want to avoid conflict at all costs. We won’t shoot if you don’t.”

PFC Castillo nodded and signaled to the vehicle behind him.

Kyle noticed all of the weaponry aimed at them, then a man stepped from the vehicle. He appeared to be in his mid-forties and was dressed in a desert-camo uniform with various insignias on one of the sleeves. His stride was quick, and he approached the group with a subdued smile.

“Sergeant Chandler,” he said as he shook hands with each of them, his grip strong and assured. When introductions were complete the Sergeant stared at them for a moment and rubbed his chin. “I must say,” he began. “This has to be the best dressed militia I’ve seen this year. I’m flattered by the greeting.”

Sean held up his hand and spoke with a grin. “It’s my fault. We were at my wedding when we were informed of your arrival.”

Sergeant Chandler nodded. “I’m sorry for the interruption. I would guess we probably have your families pretty worried right now, don’t we?”

They nodded affirmatively.

The sergeant continued. “We’ll make this quick then, so you can get back to your celebration. I’m here on behalf of the US Government, such as it is. As much as we’d like to, right now it is impossible for food of any consequence to be supplied. Last estimates given were for a minimum of eighteen months before food supplies, in any significant quantity, could be made available. My personal opinion is that eighteen months is a pipe-dream if you’re thinking of grocery stores being stocked, but I won’t share that.”

Sean turned to his brother. “Go get word back that there’s no threat. Tell them they can go back home.”

Craig nodded as he turned to head back to the barricades.

“When food does become available,” Sergeant Chandler continued. “It will be the cities, or whoever is left there, who will get it first. Rural areas are going to be down the list.”

“That’s not right,” Kyle protested, speaking out before catching himself.

Sergeant Chandler held up his hand to ward off the complaint. “Not my decision. It’s simply a matter of logistics. It’s where the most people can be helped the soonest, not that it helps you any. However, if I were you, I’d thank God you’re not in a city right now. We’re stationed in Ft. Lewis, near Seattle, and I can assure you that you’re doing better here than the bulk of the population.”

“I’m sorry for the interruption,” Kyle apologized with embarrassment.

“That’s fine. I’ve heard worse. The biggest thing you have going for you is land, plus here you have water, so you’re doubly fortunate. We’ve been commissioned to deliver seeds. I have a convoy of trucks a short distance back, and on my word, one of the trucks will stop here and unload a pallet of seeds. These are seeds, not food. Do you understand the difference?”

Sean nodded.

“This will be the only delivery you get this year, and a condition of our delivering this to you is that these seeds are to be planted, and food produced. There will be more than enough to provide for your community, as long as you farm them carefully.” He placed a lot of emphasis on the word carefully. “If you do not, then a lot of you are going to go hungry.” He looked at Sean and Kyle again. “From the looks of it, you’re not starving, so you can do the work. For your sake, and for the country’s sake, farming needs to become your profession for the next few years. That and soldiering, because as of yet we don’t have a police force to offer you.”

“I don’t suppose you have any weapons for us?” Sean asked. “Or ammunition?”

The inquiry was met with a laugh. “My apologies for laughing. No, I don’t. If you want to know the truth, I was instructed to collect as many weapons as I could. Washington is worried that there have been too many shootings. I told them they could kiss my posterior on the weapons thing. The last things people are going to turn over right now are their guns, and I don’t blame them, nor am I about to disarm them. All I can tell you is to not waste your ammunition, because fresh supplies aren’t going to be available for a long time. Do you have any questions to this point?”

Sean shook his head.

“How many people are there in your community?”

“437 at last count.”

“Was that 537?”

“No, 437.”

“I thought I heard 537, because the pallets are broken down by town size, and 537 would be a good number of people to have.”

Sean raised his eyebrows. “That’s right. I thought you asked how many adults we have. There are 537 total with kids, and animals.”

Sergeant Chandler nodded. “I thought so. I’ll let my transport drivers know to leave a class C pallet for you. I know this is pretty quick, but we do need to keep going. There are five loaded semis under my authority have to get delivered before heading back to base for the next load. I know this is not what you want to hear, but I can’t emphasize this enough: you are on your own. If you let your crops fail, your people are going to be hungry. It’s as simple as that. There are no food stamps or any kind of welfare for you to fall back on. Those days are over and will not return for a long time. There won’t be any emergency supplies flown in if you get in trouble. I recommend you get everybody working with shovels and hoes, assuming you have those things. Use sticks if you have to. For the time being, you are your own police force, your own justice system, and your own military, so don’t wait around for someone else to come along and take care of you. I’m working with a limited crew myself.

“I wish I could be more positive, but it’s better that I be brutally honest. I wouldn’t expect another delivery of seeds next year, but these seeds are non-hybrid, so you can save and dry what the plants produce to grow again next spring. These plants will take a little more work and be a little more fragile than what you’re used to, but they’ll probably taste better and, more importantly, reproduce. Just make sure you save seeds. Good luck.” He extended his hand, then spun on his heels and started towards his vehicle. “Oh, one more thing. Our trucks are well defended, so don’t do anything that we’ll all regret, and congratulations on the wedding.” With that, he strode away, followed closely by PFC Castillo.

Kyle and Sean watched in silence as the military vehicle started up and pulled away. In the distance, they could hear other vehicles approaching, then saw a drab green semi-truck emerge from behind a stand of trees.

Kyle put his hands on his hips and felt a shudder run through his body. “I think in some ways I feel worse than I have in a long time,” he said as he turned to see the last of their own militia members leaving the barricades and hurrying back to their families.

“Why’s that?” Sean asked.

“Because he put into words what I’ve feared for some time but was hoping to be wrong about.”

“And that is?”

“That we really are on our own. I mean REALLY on our own. Our government, which we’d become so dependent on and which seemed so powerful, when it gets right down to it, really is unable to do much for us besides deliver a load of seeds, for which I am grateful. But it kind of pulls the mask off that whole charade, doesn’t it?”

Sean smiled and nodded. “It does in a way, Farmer Tait. But who’s more to blame? The ones who perform the charade, or the ones who buy the act when they should’ve known better?”