War Dogs Trilogy: Wounded Warriors of the Apocalypse Read online

  I patted Karen on the back and left before she got all sentimental.

  Mom caught me by myself. “Jason, you look happy but very tired. Are you and Karen together?”

  “No, Mom. I’m just helping her stay safe until she figures out what to do.”

  Mom said, “Son, I’m worried about you. Your dad told me about your nightmares.”

  “Mom, they’re almost gone now. The constant fighting kept me in a mental fog and stressed to the max. I’ll be fine.”

  “Son, it's hard to deal with being responsible for someone’s death. I’m here for you if you need to talk.”

  ☆

  Chapter 14

  Mom did her best to make everyone feel at home and took the time to have each of us introduce ourselves and tell one story about how the apocalypse had affected us. I felt a bit sorry for Billie when I heard her story. It made me wonder if my sister and brother had survived the attack. Mom saved my tale for last.

  I started with the IED explosion and wound my way through the medivac plane crash and then the rest of the story. Mom actually laughed when I mentioned crashing into Billie and Mark. When I got to the part about saving Karen and the girls from Ray, Billie did a double take.

  Billie choked on her eggs. “Do what? You let Ray go? Why didn’t you kill him?”

  I slowly looked at Karen, Chrissy, and Missy and said, “I should have killed him, but I couldn’t kill him in front of these young girls. If I had to do it over again, I might have done it differently, but that’s what happened, and I can’t change it now.”

  Mom broke into the conversation. “I think you did what you had to do. Surely this Ray character won’t keep after Billie.”

  I answered, “We need to stay vigilant. After hearing Billie’s story, I wish I had killed him. I was just tired of killing people. We only know about two women this man has …” I looked around the table at the kids and said, “tried to abuse. There are probably many more.”

  Mom broke the tension. “Son, I want you, Karen, and the girls to rest up today and then tomorrow, I want you to join us out in the gardens. I do need you to figure out how to hitch the horse to the old plow.”

  “Mom, I’ll get the plow harnessed to the horse this morning with a jury-rigged harness. Then later, I’ll check some of the old barns around the area for a real harness.”

  We finished breakfast, and I noticed Mark was bird-dogging the girls. Karen didn’t appear to mind him hanging around the girls, and it wasn’t my place to stop him. Mom caught Mark and said, “Mark, I need you to fetch a hoe and help me plant these tomato plants. You will use the hoe to build a mound, so I can plant the tomato plant.”

  Mark balked, but shut up when Karen said, “Chrissy, help Jan and Mark build the mounds, so Jan can quickly set the plants. Missy and I will help Billie plant the peppers and onions. The girls and I love gardening.”

  Mom teased Mark. “Well I think you girls need some rest, but I won’t stand in the way of some young people who want to work. Mark, grab a hoe for you and the girls.”

  Mark grumbled a bit but didn’t act out in front of the girls. He followed Mom’s direction and worked more that morning then he had in his entire life. The boy was five-foot-eight and weighed almost two hundred pounds when work started that day. The boy needed hard work and a steady hand to keep him headed in the right direction. Mom was up to the task, and enjoyed working with the lazy kid. She had a hell of a lot more patience than I had.

  I asked Mom to follow me into the house and formally introduced her to MMax. “Mom, I’m going to hand MMax to you. Hold him for a minute, and then I will reach for him, and you will hand him back to me. This tells MMax that I trust you with him, and he should be comfortable around you.”

  We performed the ritual, and MMax no longer growled when Mom approached him. Mom said, “Shouldn’t we do this with Billie and Mark?”

  “Sorry, Mom, but I don’t trust that kid. He might try to hurt MMax, so I want him to be leery of MMax and stay away from him.”

  Mom didn’t say anything as she shook her head and walked away.

  I went to fetch the horse and my cart and brought them back to the farm. There was some hay in the barn, and I forked a couple of flakes down to the horse in the small corral. He began munching on the grass and then nosed around the area. I filled the trough with water and then went into the barn to see what Dad had that could be made into a harness. I opened the door to the barn and saw an old tractor and several pieces of equipment for the tractor. Beside the tractor was Dad’s old 1971 Ford pickup. Dad had stated on several occasions, older model vehicles wouldn’t be affected by a solar storm or EMP blast, so I jumped in the truck and turned the key. Nothing happened. I got out and raised the hood. Crap! The battery wasn’t there, and there was a rag laid over the intake manifold where the carb was supposed to be.

  The tractor had a battery, but it wouldn’t start. It cranked over fast enough, but didn’t run. I saw the carb and battery for the pickup on Dad’s workbench and remembered my assignment was to harness the horse to the plow, not to get a tractor running. I would tackle that later.

  I found a couple of rolls of nylon webbing on a pegboard above Dad’s workbench. One roll was two inches wide and the other an inch wide. I started making sketches of a horse, with my thoughts of what a harness would look like. I took my best two drawings out to Mom and showed them to her. She frowned and said, “You have a horse. Why are you making a harness for MMax and Tina?”

  “What?”

  Mom broke out laughing and showed the pictures to Chrissy, who laughed and said, “Your drawing looks like a dog.”

  “I didn’t say I was a fu … err darned artist. Will the harness work, is the question,” I said, as I got more frustrated.

  Karen ran over and said, “It almost looks like a horse. It has ears, a head, and short stubby legs.

  I moved, so Mom couldn’t see my hands as I gave Karen a one-finger salute. Chrissy said, “Mom, he gave you the bird.”

  I raised my voice. “Ladies, thanks for making me the butt of your jokes, but I just need to know if one of these harnesses will work.”

  Karen took me by the arm and pulled me to the barn. “My grandpa had a team of mules. I know what a harness should look like and those ain’t it. Come on, and I’ll help you.” She stopped and yelled, “Girls, keep working!”

  “Thanks for helping me with the harness. I don’t have a clue what one should look like,” I said.

  Karen snickered and turned toward me. “Me neither. I do know that I had to get away from Billie for a spell. That woman gets under my skin.”

  “You know how I feel about her and her brat.”

  Karen nodded. “I know. That boy is sniffing my girls like a male dog sniffing a female in heat. He scares me a bit. He’s so big, and I think he might have a mean streak.”

  I answered without thinking and stuck my foot down my throat. “Well, at least the boy has good taste. The girls take after their beautiful mom.”

  I nearly choked when I realized what I’d said. I was afraid Karen might think I was hitting on her. Karen responded with, “Thanks for the compliment, but we have to keep a watch on him, and keep him away from my girls when an adult isn’t around.” Then she kissed me on the cheek and said, “That was sweet, but I’m just interested in keeping my girls safe and trying to survive.”

  I was tongue-tied, but Karen rescued me. “This drawing should work if you add another strap across the horse’s chest. Hey, I’d put the saddle on him and use it as the base for the harness.”

  “That’s a great idea. Can you help me make the harness?”

  Karen agreed to help, as long as she could check on her girls as often as needed. I didn’t like the boy, but I didn’t think he would hurt the girls. Annoy the hell out of them, yes, but not hurt them. The boy was lazy and interested in girls. That description probably matched half of the teenage boys in America.

  We brought the horse into Dad’s shop, so we could add the strap
s needed to allow the horse to pull the plow without the harness slipping off. We quickly figured out that we didn’t need the saddle, but we did steal the buckles. We also needed a horse collar for the horse to pull against. I found a metal coat hanger and bent it around the horse’s neck to get the required shape. I sketched the shape onto a one-inch thick piece of plywood and used a hand drill and several different handsaws to cut the form out of the plywood sheet.

  The horse balked a bit when I slid the form over his head, but Karen calmed him down enough, so I could take it on and off enough to get the size and fit correctly. Then I cut two more copies of the original and glued them together. For added strength, I bolted them together and then rounded the corners. Some eyebolts gave us the ability to attach the straps and, then I held it while Karen wrapped it in duct tape to keep it from chaffing the horse.

  I found some copper wire to stitch the straps to the eyebolts and to each other, and we were off and running on the harness. Two hours later, Karen led the horse out of the barn pulling the plow. I kept the blade from biting into the ground, and we took it to the field that Mom wanted to be plowed.

  The horse didn’t like pulling the plow and balked a couple of times. I sent Karen to Mom to get some sugar cubes or a carrot while I had the horse pull the plow around without digging the blade into the soil. Since there wasn’t any resistance and the horse was used to pulling my cart, he calmed down and got used to the harness.

  Karen came back with a few sugar cubes, gave one to the horse, and then walked in the direction I wanted to plow. The horse followed to get another sugar cube, and we soon had a one-hundred-foot-long row. I turned around, and Karen gave the horse another cube. By the time, the six sugar cubes were gone, I had plowed eleven rows, and the horse had settled into its new lot in life as a working farm animal.

  Mom was glad we had cultivated so much, but then it set in that seeds had to be planted in those plowed rows. If we had a seed drill, it would only be an hour’s work with little effort. Then I saw Mom hand out three to four foot sections of PVC pipe. The short ones were for the short people. One end had been sharpened, and the other had been heated and expanded to make a small funnel. Mom showed the crew how to stick the sharp end into the ground and then drop seeds down the pipe. She then demonstrated how to cover the seeds with your feet.

  “Mom, those are redneck seed drills. Where did you learn that trick?”

  “YouTube.”

  I replied, “It’s not a seed drill, but it’s a huge improvement over the manual method.”

  We broke for lunch while Mom and I gathered the seeds and compared them to her plan for planting. We joined the others as soon as we had the seeds and planting equipment ready and staged. I grabbed a sandwich and glass of water for lunch and walked over to the others. MMax followed me as usual, but I’d noticed over the past several hours, Tina had bonded with my mom. Tina lay on the ground with her head on Mom’s lap. MMax stayed at my side and caught a short nap while we ate. MMax had already split a rabbit with Tina that morning, and neither begged for food.

  I sat between Mom and Karen and asked Mom about my brother and sister. Mom answered with a few tears in her eyes. “Jason, I talked to both of them a few weeks before the lights went dark. Mike and his family were going on vacation the week we were bombed and were probably caught away from home.”

  “Mom, where were they going?”

  “They rented a cabin on a lake south of St. Louis. They planned to stop in and see me on their way back home. I’m afraid they were caught out away from home. Mike isn’t a warrior like you. I’m worried to death about them.”

  “Mom, what about Michelle?”

  “Oh, she was doing fine when we talked. She always says everything is going great in her life. She lost her job and is back to waiting on tables. She’s had three boyfriends since Christmas.”

  I knew I would have to go find Dad after we finished planting. Then Dad and I could go fetch Michelle from Clarksville, if she was still alive. I didn’t have a clue where to search for Mike and his family. I whispered to my mom, “I’ll go find Dad after we finish planting. Then we can search for Michelle and Mike.”

  Mom patted my hand. “I know, son. I have some clothing each of them wore that MMax can use to find them.”

  Mom dried her tears and said, “We’re burning daylight. It’s time to plant. Karen, take Chrissy with you. I want beet seeds planted in the first row and carrot seeds in the second. Billie, take Missy with you and plant lettuce in the third row and spinach in the fourth.”

  I interrupted Mom’s orders. “Most of these vegetables won’t keep very long. Why plant so many?”

  “Son, I plan to can what we can’t eat. I’m also growing some just to get their seeds for future crops. One of your tasks will be to find more mason jars and lids. Besides, we can trade food for other things we need.”

  I laughed and said, “I should have known you had a plan.”

  The others planted the rest of our seeds and transplanted the remaining seedlings while I plowed more rows for corn in the squares, per Mom’s direction. We ended the day as the sun set above the trees and the air cooled. My foot and back ached, and I was dog-tired but felt good about what we had accomplished. I sat on the steps to the deck, thinking about what had to be done when Mom sat down beside me. “Jason, I want you to go looking for your dad, brother, and sister. We can’t …”

  “Mom, I’ll do anything …”

  Mom placed her finger to my lips. “Jason, I want you to look for them, but we have to take care of the ones we know are alive first, and then go searching for the others. Your dad is a survivor. He would be with us now if he were alive. Searching for your brother would be like searching for the needle in a haystack. After we finish planting, I intend to search Clarksville for Michelle, and bring her home if she’s still alive. We can’t risk getting killed searching for family that’s probably dead already.”

  “Mom, I don’t like it, but you’re right. Our survival chances are increased immensely by hunkering down, farming, and hunting. We must make this place our island of hope and sustenance in this after America.”

  Mom said, “Sometimes life sucks, but you have to overcome the roadblocks and keep on keeping on.”

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Mom, we need mason jars, chicken wire, and probably a dozen other things. I plan to start raising rabbits, chickens, cattle, and whatever other animals we can find. We’ll need fencing, posts, and lumber for coops. I plan to check the homes and farms around us that are abandoned, but will also check the town out for supplies.”

  “Jason, I don’t want to lose you too.”

  “I know, Mom, but I’ll be better prepared than Dad was, and I’ll have MMax.”

  ☆

  Chapter 15

  April 6, 2038: –TSHTF plus 11

  I woke to the smell of eggs and coffee being prepared. MMax slept next to me on the couch and felt warm against my side. My eyes snapped open when I heard a noise coming from the bathroom. I moved, and MMax snapped to full alert. I stood up and stretched for a minute before heading to the toilet, which had a line of three ladies and Mark all bitching about having to wait in line. A house with five women and two men with only one bathroom was a formula for crossed legs and bad moods. Fortunately, for me, I was raised in the country, and every tree was a place to pee. Mike and I used to pee off the back deck when Mom wasn’t around until she caught us one day and stopped that nasty habit.

  Nature called, so I went through the kitchen and grabbed a roll of TP from the pantry before going out the back door. I saw Karen heading around the right side of the barn, so I went in the opposite direction to the woods. Business completed, I walked back to the house and ran into Karen. Karen said, “We need an outhouse or two. I don’t know how long we will be staying, but this many females make for too long a wait.”

  I laughed. “I agree and will push that up in priority. Until we get it built, we need to …uh …uh …pee outside and save the t
oilet for solid waste.”

  Karen added, “Since it’s not too cold now. We’ll place a bucket on a table at the far end of the deck and hang a sheet for privacy, so people can wash up. That will help free up the bathroom a bit.”

  I said, “We should be done with planting in a couple of days, and then I’ll scrounge around for some wood to build the outhouse. We’ll also need some lime to pitch in every now and then to help keep the smell down. I’ll build it on wooden runners, so I can use the horse to move it to a new hole once one fills up.”

  The situation sank into Karen’s mind. “Oh my God, we’re heading back a hundred and fifty years to chamber pots and corn cobs or newspaper.”

  I took her hand and stopped. “We’re going to have to send someone into town after the die-off to scrounge for toilet paper, food, medicine, and other supplies.”

  Karen looked shocked. “What do you mean by die-off?”

  “Karen, most people in America don’t grow their own food or have much in their pantries. Grocery stores have about three days’ worth of food, and food distribution warehouses have maybe one week of food. All manufacturing stopped over a week ago. People will be hungry in four days. Stores have already been looted, and the shelves are empty. They will rob their neighbors after two weeks.”

  “Won’t the government step in and help?”

  “Most of the books I’ve read on the situation say the government workers and soldiers will go home to help their own families,” I said.

  “Just when we need them the most.”

  I replied, “I’m a soldier, and I’m staying here to protect my family and friends. Look, there will be chaos, fighting, and killing in the cities. A mass exodus has probably already begun. Most of the people in the area affected by the EMP blast area will die within sixty to ninety days. The people streaming out of the cities will head to farms to take food from the farmers, who will fight them but be overwhelmed. No one will farm the large farms because there won’t be modern tractors and equipment operating. Everything has to be done by hand, horsepower, or antique vehicles. All of this is a recipe for mass starvation.”