Jernigan's War (16 page)

The next morning he split another pone of corn bread with Ben and Frank. It was a cool rainy day when he cranked up and headed down the river. The rain and mist almost obscured the catamaran out in the middle of the stream.

Dix found a grounded tug on a huge sandbar in the river. He motored over to see if there was anything of value on it. He tied off to the tug and called out, “anybody home?” He beat on it with the back of an axe to see if he could get anyone’s attention. It was then that he noticed a trail in the sand heading away from the tug and across the sandbar. He climbed on board and found the tug abandoned. He pumped diesel out of the tanks and once again had his tanks on the catamaran topped off as well as all his empty five gallon cans and the 55 gallon drum full. That gave him about 150 gallons of diesel. He also cleaned out the galley of canned goods, oil, flour and other items. The crew quarters were empty of clothes and personal items, it had apparently been abandoned. Dix found the Captain’s log and read the last entry. It simply said, “Beaching below Vicksburg so Captain and crew can walk home. Radio reports indicate that Chinese troops have taken New Orleans and are confiscating tugs and imprisoning crews as they arrive.”

The tug was firmly aground, unless the river rose, which it would sooner or later, this tug wasn’t going anywhere. Dix had no idea if he could operate the vessel, he didn’t know if he could even crank it. He found the generator controls and gave it a try. The generator roared to life. He then located the controls to the starter engines and fired them up. He engaged the transmission and clutches that engaged the main engines. The big engines started to turn, black smoke started coming out of the stacks and soon the big engines were running. Dix shut everything down but the generator, secure in the knowledge that he could crank and run the beast.

He didn’t find anything else he could use, space was limited on the catamaran and he was tying stuff on the deck as it was.
The tug had a washer and dryer so he used the opportunity to do laundry. This was the first time in weeks that he felt human. You don’t realize how disgusting a man can become with dirty clothes and a dirty body; until you’re inside that body. Next he ran a water hose from the tug to the catamaran and refilled the water tanks. The one luxury aboard the catamaran was a toilet with a shower, it sure beat sitting on the rail and going over the side. The refrigerator ran on propane; but, Dix didn’t use it, instead he saved the gas for cooking. He didn’t even use the gas for heat but relied on warm clothes and the ability to get out of the wind and weather in the cabin. He found a gas grill strapped to the railing next to the pilot house. Evidently they liked to cook out when they had an opportunity. He relieved it of its propane bottles; he would use them when the tank he was using on the catamaran ran dry. He cast off the catamaran and continued the trip south.

He found the Old River outlet on the Louisiana side of the river at Natchez and motored up into Old River. He ran slow hoping to catch a glimpse of old man Beagle Boyer. A couple of miles down the Old River he came to Old River boat camp. He found the old man working on nets under his camp. Beagle hollered out, “You ready for some more catfish? I’ve got a fish box full.”

Dix smiled, “You betcha.” Ben and Frank enjoyed running up and down the bank and splashing in the water, while old man Beagle had a mess cleaned and ready for the fryer. The price was the same, twenty five .22 bullets but he exchanged the cleaning for one of the pones of cornbread.

Dix asked, “Do you mind if I leave my boat here a few days, I want to travel over to Jonesville to check on some of my people.”

“You may have a little trouble getting past Ferriday, they pretty much clean out anyone passing through.”

“Who’s doing the cleaning?”

Boyer scratched his head, “The old mayor has set up a little fiefdom over there, he’s using the town marshal and police to enforce a road tax; if you put up a fuss they kill you or put you on the chain gang. Otherwise they let you leave with your clothes and nothing else.”

Dix shook his head, “I’m surprised the locals are tolerating it. Where have they set up the stop?”

“They have three places, one on Hwy 84 east of town, one on Hwy 84 west of town, and one on the highway heading up to Clayton.”

“How many men does it take to accomplish this?” Beagle thought for a minute, “Oh, they’ve got at least 25 or 30.”

“Has anybody just tried shooting them?”

Beagle chuckled, “They keep a sniper hid back that takes out any resistance that the traffic stop can’t handle.”

Trying to think of all the angles, Dix asked, “Can I negotiate with a prepayment to let me pass?”

“Oh sure, you can pay them up front then they clean you out when you show up to go through anyway.”

Dix decided, “We’re at war, and as far as I’m concerned, they are the enemy.”

“Well boy, I agree with you. The mayor was a tremendous supporter of our new communist President. In fact, he delivered more votes for him than we had residents in the Parish.”

Dix nodded, “Enough said. I’d just as soon do battle here as anywhere, the reason my family’s dead and buried is because of bastards like him and his minions. I’ll start in the morning.”

Beagle wanted Dix to be sure of what he was taking on, “Do you have any idea of what you’re up against?”

Dix told him, “In the past six weeks I have killed more men than he’s got; in fact, I think I killed that many in a day!”

CHAPTER 16

ONE MAN WAR

T
he next morning Dix slept until he woke up. He cooked enough pancakes for himself, Beagle and the pups. Dix told Beagle, “I’ve got a proposition for you: I’ll give you a box of .22’s if you’ll watch the pups until I get back in a couple of days. You can eat what you need, and in the event I don’t make it back you can have my boats and gear, with the understanding that you take care of Ben and Frank.”

“You got a deal, son. I wish I could take the bastards out myself, I think my brother is in a work gang in there.”

“I’m not going to stop until I kill them all or get killed.” Beagle proudly shook his hand, “Well, good luck son.”

Dix decided not to take the four-wheeler; but, to go in on foot. He took his Springfield, a bandoleer that held 25 cartridges, and put five more boxes in his pack. That gave him 125 - 30-06 rounds. He took his Browning 9mm with four extra magazines. He also put his 22 Beretta pocket pistol in his pocket. He had a fold up knife in his pocket and a Kbar on his belt. He figured to scavenge an assault rifle from the police if he needed one. He put
on his hunting camouflage clothes and picked up a small pair of binoculars he had been packing around for years. He also put a backpacker filter bottle as a canteen on his belt and put four MRE’s in his pack. His standard pack had a first aid kit, duct tape, multi tool, etc. He then cut three willow sticks about three foot long and tied them together with a small strip of paracord which would come in handy later.

He crossed over the levee and started hiking toward Ferriday. There was no traffic on the road, he saw a few people in their yards. A couple of men saw him and started in his direction, when he pulled the Springfield around and cradled it in his arms, they stopped and retreated. He walked until he could see the checkpoint in the edge of town. He crossed the road and walked into the overgrown field. It was still full of cotton plants that had never been harvested. The white cotton was drooping and mildewed, some of the seeds were sprouting in the boles.

Sitting in the cotton obscured him from view. He sat and watched as people came and went. They had five deputies working the barricade. People they knew could go through; they were mostly pickup trucks with trailers hauling stuff into the town. He watched one car drive up and the driver and the passenger were executed. One of the deputies took the car and drove it through the barricade; two more deputies drug the bodies over to the ditch and shoved them in. Dix raised his binoculars and carefully surveyed the area for the sniper back up. He soon spotted him sitting on a platform on the side of the old cotton compress building. He was about 400 yards away. He spent another 30 minutes making sure there was only one sniper.

Dix took the three willow sticks and opened it as a tripod. He then used the fork created on the top of the tripod as a rest for the barrel of the Springfield. He cranked the Trijicon scope up to
9x power and sighted in on the sharpshooter. Dix wanted to put the 150 grain bullet somewhere in the torso of the sharpshooter. The rifle was sighted dead on at 200 yards. He estimated about a six to eight inch drop at this distance. From this angle he placed the crosshairs on the sniper’s chin and ever so gently squeezed the trigger. The big rifle barked and a scant heartbeat later the sharpshooter’s heart turned to jelly. Dix didn’t wait for him to drop; he knew that the shooter had made his last shot.

He quickly sighted in on the men at the barricade, they had heard his shot but it had not occurred to them that they were the target. They were only about 300 yards away. Dix could only see the head of one of the deputies. He put the crosshairs directly on top of the man’s head and squeezed off another round. The man never knew what hit him; his head exploded showering his companions with its contents. The others dove for cover; he could see a portion of a leg hanging out from behind a tire they were using in the barricade. Dix put the crosshair just above the knee. The 150 grain bullet hit the leg about an inch below the knee. He jumped when the bullet struck and rolled into full view. The next shot went long ways though his body. The contents of his stomach and bowels were dispersed in a spray like pattern over the remaining two deputies. The only shot he had of the other two was an elbow sticking out from behind a tree. He hit it and reloaded.

He figured they would have radioed for help by now and that help was on the way. Dix got down on his hands and knees and crawled through the cotton patch until he was close to the road that intersected the highway where they had their barricade erected. As expected an SUV full of deputies arrived from in town. Just as they pulled to a stop, but before they could get out, Dix started shooting 150 grain bullets through the cabin of the SUV. The windows and metal doors offered little resistance to the fast, heavy 30 caliber bullets. They passed through the SUV,
through the passengers and out the other side. Only two made it out of the doors and they were not on their feet. All but one of the deputies just had a 30-06 caliber bullet pass through their bodies. Dix found the uninjured deputy trying to drag his comrades out of harm’s way. He dropped him like a sack of potatoes. He looked and found the last one, the one missing an elbow. He was crouched behind a pile of tires Dix put him down with a shot through his midsection.

Dix had cleaned out half of their forces in less than 20 minutes. He reloaded and refilled his bandoleer from his pack and headed south toward the road leading to the barricade on the west side of town. He would be traveling through a section of town where he didn’t expect to find any friends. This section of town was dominated by welfare recipients living in government housing. There was no way to know if they were friendly, hostile or indifferent. Dix stuck to the west side of the road as this was an industrial area and he could retreat into an area of cover. The government housing was on the opposite side. Most of it looked abandoned. The poor fools probably starved to death when the food stamps quit working. They blindly voted themselves free benefits only to find out that they had voted themselves out of groceries.

Once again Dix slowly worked his way around until he was within sight of the next barricade. He knew that each checkpoint was covered by a sharpshooter. He crawled under an abandoned 18 wheeler where he could look out from behind the rear dual wheels. They would also provide a little protection if they were taking shots at him. He soon spotted what he was looking for. The sharpshooter was on top of the old farm supply store. He was on alert as he had gotten news of what had happened at the other checkpoint. Dix counted five more deputies on the ground behind the barricade. He wondered how much help these would get once the shooting started. He noted the location of each of them which was a good 350 yards away.

Their sniper was a about 50 yards closer. He was facing away so Dix placed the crosshairs on the nape of his neck. The bullet struck about two inches below and passed through his upper chest. He pitched forward and fell from his chair on the roof. His rifle rattled as it fell down the metal roof. Dix’s second shot hit two of the deputies on the ground. One was hit through the mid section, the bullet continuing on and hit the next one in the arm just above the elbow. Since no one could help him with a tourniquet, the blood loss quickly killed him. The third shot went through the neck of the one trying to see where Dix was shooting from. It was obvious that they had become accustomed to relying on their reputation and numbers. Dix knew he had two more to go but they weren’t sticking their heads out.

He decided not to move because they hadn’t spotted him yet. He looked around to make sure that he wasn’t being flanked by anyone bringing up the rear. They apparently didn’t have the numbers or the will to follow up. He sat quietly and took a swig from his water bottle, waiting. He could hear them hollering at each other; but, couldn’t make out what they were saying. At once they bolted for their pickup. When they were in and cranking it, Dix started firing rounds through the cab. He knew that all five rounds had gone through the cab. One round went through the passenger door, through both legs of the passenger and burned the top of the driver’s leg. The last round went through the back wall of the cab and entered the driver just under his left shoulder blade and continued through his shoulder, destroyed the left arm socket and exited the cab on the far side. Although they escaped the scene both would die from massive blood loss before they traveled a half mile. They ran the truck into an old store front and never left the vehicle. Dix once again reloaded his rifle and refilled the bandoleer from his pack.