Jernigan's War (9 page)

Porter topped off the gas and checked the oil in the Rokon. He checked the air filter and it appeared ok. Once again they waited until dark and their eyes adjusted to the dark. Ally rode leaning back in the trailer with her back to the bike. She wanted to watch the road from behind to keep an eye out for bad guys. After being a hero she was anxious to help guard. Once again they ran in second gear because of the load.

The next week they repeated the process of sleeping during the day and running at night. They came to a secluded spot on a river in Texas. Porter was uncertain of their exact location. He estimated that they were making about 200 miles a day. They took several days to rest, bathe, and heal from the long travel. They were encountering a lot more people as they left the desert. So far all were friendly and for the most part ignored them. They still took turns standing guard as this had become a way of life. They washed all their clothes and let them dry. There weren’t any fish to speak of but Porter was able to kill some squirrels and birds with the .22 rifle. They crossed the river and traveled on for another week and were well into Texas when they came to
another river. Unfortunately, the GPS had given out a week earlier. They camped on the river to hunt, rest and clean up. On the third day a yearling bull showed up on the river early one morning. Porter shot him through the head dropping him in his tracks. He and Sandy skinned him on the ground and carefully cut all the meat from the bones as well as cutting up the heart. Porter remembered how Big John had carefully removed the meat and put it in the skin. They washed the meat in the river. Porter took some barbed wire fence and made a rack over the fire. He could move it back and forth as needed as he smoked and dried the strips of meat. Sandy cooked steaks in the skillet, he washed the hide in the river, and stretched it between two small trees where he could scrape all the extra fat and meat scraps from the hide. He had never tanned a hide but figured it would make a good ground cloth if nothing else. They gorged themselves on the meat over the next two days. It felt good to eat without the worry of running out of food hanging over their heads. They wound up with a month or more supply of smoked jerky. Other than needing some salt it was delicious. They boiled river water in the skillet and refilled 2 of the 5 gallon jugs. The fuel tank on the Rokon was full and there was one jug of gas left. He had not had to open the fuel tanks in the wheels. So as of now, they had about a week of fuel remaining. He kept the empty fuel tanks and used the empty five gallon water jug from Big John to store much of the jerky. It had a two inch opening so they could easily get the pieces of jerky out as needed. They used the tequila as mouth wash and all of them shared his toothbrush, Porter figured they were family so it didn’t matter. He felt like an old married man without the marital relations. He couldn’t help but think about the relations since they took turns standing guard during baths in the river.

CHAPTER 10

DIX GETS EVEN

T
he fighting intensified over the next few weeks. Everyone stayed put as desperation gripped the city. The short wave indicated that things were desperate over much of the world. There was no word coming from the communist countries. It was assumed that they had better control of their populations.

The Europeans woke up and had to fight their Muslim population who took the collapse as a message from Allah to start their final holy war. The Muslims killed most of their leaders in the oil producing nations but they were repelled by the people of Europe, ending the Muslim foothold in Europe. A nuclear bomb went off in Tel Aviv.

The gloves came off after Tel Aviv disappeared. The Israeli’s took out the remaining Arab capitals, several thousand Mosques, and Mecca. They expelled the majority of their Muslim population and killed the rest. Then they too went silent as their government collapsed and their population went into survival mode.

Back in Mississippi, all hell had broken loose. The family was hit by a group numbering around 40 that came at them from the south. Dix was out in his work shop when they came. The house came under tremendous fire. They pulled up with guns, trucks, and motorcycles and just attacked. They were probably former military, as they were using overwhelming firepower. Dix had his AR disassembled and was cleaning it when bullets came streaming through the wall. One bullet splintered the workbench and sent his rifle parts across the room. A splinter stuck in his forehead and left a stream of blood down his face when he yanked it out. He couldn’t know what was going on in the house.

He grabbed an axe, chopped through the back wall and dove through the jagged metal of the building. Other than a deep gash on his arm, he was ok. Dix pulled out his 9mm and ran into the brush behind the burnt out house next door. He circled around to the woods on the back of their place where he had a bugout location. When he got there he opened the hidden tool box pulling out his grandfather’s Springfield 30-06. It was a WWI era rifle Dix had outfitted with a scope. He cycled the action and put a round in the barrel. This was a rifle capable of making 1000 yard shots.

Dix strapped on a bandoleer and picked up an ammo can of cartridges. He positioned himself back in the edge of the woods behind a pile of concrete from an old slab that he had broken up after Hurricane Katrina. Their small farm was at one time a country home but over the years the city and neighborhoods had built up around it. It still had outbuildings and was sitting on 10 acres of land. Dix had wanted to relocate to a remote location out West or in the Ozarks, but there was no work, so he decided to ride it out on the farm. Dix figured that if they could survive the initial few months, there would be enough people dead from starvation that the scenario unfolding before him would not take place.

Lying over the pile of concrete he sighted on the first man he saw and pulled the trigger. He never felt the kick and didn’t look
to see if the shot connected but concentrated on the next target, and then the one after that. Five shots, five kills, and he stopped to reload. They had not located him so his secret was safe. His family was still fighting so they did not know he was shooting from his position behind the house. Once again he spotted a man on his belly in the ditch. The only shot Dix had was the man’s left foot and ankle. The 150 grain bullet pretty much took his foot off at the ankle. The next shot he had was a nasty looking gal hanging back behind the cars. He hit her through the chest and she disappeared behind the car. He realized that he’d been spotted as bullets began cutting through the bushes around him. He spotted the shooter in the ditch on the other side of the road. A round through his head ended the threat. He searched a few moments for another target.

Shooting was still coming from the house, so he crept around behind the neighbor’s house and into the woods beyond. He worked his way around to where he was directly south of his house, which placed the bad guys between him and the house. He was hidden in a fence row and had a good view of the field of battle. He was now in a target rich environment. He thumbed several more rounds into the magazine topping it off and started laying them out one after another. He lost count of shots and kills.

After no less than half a dozen hits they turned their attention on him. He lay on the ground behind a large oak and reloaded. The old tree was being chewed up. He knew what they would do, they would concentrate fire on his location to keep him down while others would circle around and hit from the side. He crawled on his belly straight away from the tree until he crossed a driveway and got behind an abandoned truck. By lying down and looking under the truck he could see four of them coming from the east side of the old yard, spread out, they knew what they were doing.

Dix waited until two of them were lined up and pulled the trigger. A 150 grain 30-06 bullet travels at around 2600 feet per
second. One human body will not stop it. From the angle he shot, the bullet traveled though the pelvic girdle of the first man, and up at an angle catching the second man in the throat. Dix couldn’t cycle the bolt action fast enough so he used his 9mm to cut the legs out from under the other two. He emptied the clip and reloaded. Once they were down he riddled them with the 9mm. He slapped in his last magazine and decided to make a move.

He didn’t wait, but ran east across the road and behind the houses on that side of the street. They had long since been burned to keep people out, but the remaining brick walls gave him cover. The shooting had stopped at his home. He could still see men shouting and running. He once again set up, this time in the rubble of a house that was across the street but at an angle to his house. From this spot he could see his house through the scope and the strangers in the house. The front door was broken down. There were several bodies in the front yard. Clearly Jake and the boys had done some good. Through his scope Dix could see a man peering from around the back of the house. It was not one of his people. Dix placed a round though the corner of the house and dropped him. Three more broke across the yard running fast to the south. Dix dropped one and reloaded. He kept his eye on the road where he figured they would cross. In all probability they would cross where he did. He aimed and waited. He saw the first one look around the back of the old truck that he had hidden behind. Dix put a round through his head and cycled the action. He fired through the bed of the pickup and saw a spray of blood above the back. He turned back to the house and reloaded. He refilled the bandoleer out of the ammo can he was still dragging. Then filled his pockets and left the can. He moved back behind the house and went into another yard behind that one. He didn’t want to show himself between the houses.

He knew in his heart what had taken place in his home. Now his sole purpose for living was to kill the bastards. He made his way around to the north side of the house. He was about 400 yards down the road where he found a ladder that allowed
him to climb on top of a house where he could get a good view of his home and yard. Looking through the scope he sat quietly and observed. He wanted them to relax and start moving. His position was not protected; he only had stealth on his side. After about thirty minutes they started peeking out. He waited until he could see four or five before he started the execution. The first one was under his carport looking out from between the Camellia bushes. The second one was in the boat shed. Dix figured that he would have to patch the boat if he ever used it again. The other three dove for cover, but they didn’t know where the shots were coming from and they hid in the wrong places. Dix reloaded and slung the rifle. He climbed off the roof and crossed to the house next door. The fighting would be in close, he wished he had a shotgun or his AR.

Suddenly engines fired up and the running vehicles from his home came roaring out of the driveway. He didn’t fire, fearing that his family and friends may be the ones trying to escape. He made it into the row of azaleas on the north side of the house and crawled under. A half a dozen men could be seen running toward the vehicles they had abandoned on the road and across the street. Dix could see one had long red hair, another had an afro. He cut both of them down and lost sight of the others. The sun was lower in the sky and in the long shadows he was having trouble finding targets, all he could do was try to disable the vehicles. He put rounds through the engine compartments. None of them stopped but he could hear one engine knocking real loud.

They were gone as quickly as they come. They didn’t wait around to gather their wounded if there were any. Dix reloaded his rifle and ran into the carport. The back door was busted all to pieces. Cartridge casings were everywhere. Dix found what he feared. Everyone was dead, along with a half dozen of the raiders. Even the Schnauzers were dead. The house had been ransacked and the loose weapons and food were gone. Dix collapsed on the
floor and shook. He puked and then sat back up. A rage built up within him that he didn’t think he could possibly contain.

They had stolen all the vehicles including the Bronco. Dix went back across the road and retrieved the ammo can that still had several hundred rounds of 30-06 ammo. He opened the gun safe they had failed to breech and pulled out several full magazines for his Browning 9mm pistol. He had work to do, and the longer he waited, the chance of him catching up with and killing the raiders lessened. A quick trip around the property found a lot of dead and three wounded. He finished one off and left the others enjoying their agony, they would not survive their wounds. The Catahoula puppies that Jake had gotten for security were still alive in their pen. Dix let them out. Even if he didn’t make it, they’d have plenty to eat, thanks to the bodies of the raiders he’d killed.

He ran out back and found the Yamaha four-wheeler still intact. The fuel tank was full and his last five gallon can of fuel was still under the shop in the back. The electricity was out and his generator had taken fire. He would be unable to put his AR back together tonight because he would never find all the pieces in the dark. He put together a bugout bag from the supplies he managed to find.