Neighbors (5 page)

“Must have been them,” Henry said. “We’re all accounted for, so it must have been people trying to break in.”
“I think so,” Hank said. “All of them were armed. Didn’t have any supplies or anything, just their guns. There are several bodies down at the gate, too. I guess a few managed to get in.”
“We didn’t kill anyone, after the ruckus at the gate,” Bren said.
“It looks like they beat on the door, and when no one came and they couldn’t break in, they just gave up and let the radiation take them. If they were out during the worst of it, it wouldn’t have taken long.”
“What should we do?” Bren asked.
“Once the radiation falls, we’ll clean up what’s left of the bodies,” Hank replied.
Bren looked sick. Henry didn’t look all that good, either, at the suggestion.
“I think I’ll gather up the weapons though. No need to leave them for someone else to use against us,” Hank said then.
“You want some of us to suit up and help?” Henry obviously wasn’t too enthusiastic about the idea, but he made the suggestion, anyway. And look greatly relieved when Hank shook his head.
“No need to expose anyone else. If everything else is okay, I’m going back out and get the job done.”
“Hank,” Henry said as Hank turned toward the shelter inner door.
Hank turned back. “I just wanted to say… Well… Thanks for pushing us in the direction you did. Most of us, if not all, would be like those people out there. Dead.”

“I’ll add my thanks to that,” Bren said. “I was reluctant at first, but you were right, all down the line.” Bren held out his hand and Hank shook it. Then Henry did the same. A bit uncomfortable now, Hank hurried to the shelter entrance. He suited up and left the shelter. Bren went out into the hallway and relocked the outer shelter door.
Hank started to gather up the weapons from the three at that entrance of the shelter, but decided it would be much easier, and faster, if he got his garden cart to carry everything in just one trip.
Hurrying, Hank got the cart out of the garden shed and made the rounds of the two entrances of the shelter and the gate. He kept the PTR-91 slung over his shoulder while at the gate. By the time he left the cart with the weapons, ammunition, and accoutrements in the garage the wound in his shoulder was aching and he was sick to his stomach. Some of the bodies were already well into decomposition. Others had been ravaged by hungry animals, probably pets turned loose when the attack began.
Hank quickly unsuited and took a cleansing shower. The warm water helped wash away the feelings as well as any contamination he might have picked up. Still, he didn’t eat anything until the following day.
Another three weeks passed before Pete, Hank, and two teams of three each from the shelter went out to move the dead bodies and do a survey of the area. All had at least tyvek overalls, dust masks, goggles, and gloves. Those with respirators were tasked with the job of handling the bodies while the others kept a guard and looked around the rest of the neighborhood.
It took several hours, even using Hank’s four heavy-duty rototillers to help, to dig the single large grave. But, finally, all the bodies were under four feet of earth cover just outside the cul-de-sac.
Two more weeks and outside work began in earnest. There were still small patches of thin snow here and there in areas sheltered from the weak spring sun, but lot after lot was decontaminated thoroughly, using Hank’s well and irrigation pump. It took all the garden hoses in the cul-de-sac to reach the furthest house, and the water flow wasn’t great, but the job got done.
Most went armed during the work, despite a few protests against the idea. But with the arms collected from those that had tried to force their way inside the shelter, everyone that wanted a gun, got one. Hank kept only one of the recovered weapons himself, since he had most of what he wanted anyway.
It was a sweet little Beretta Tomcat .32 ACP. Only three magazines, but the woman that he’d recovered it from had been carrying two full fifty-round boxes of ammunition, plus over half of another. She had carried it in a Galco Pushup model belt holster that Hank took to wearing whenever he was out of bed, the holster and pistol carried in the small of his back.
With getting a bit of a late start, and the continuing coolness of spring, most attention was turned to getting the various gardens and greenhouses planted. But Hank, Pete, Henry, and Juan took it upon themselves to start an area census and do a little salvaging for critical supplies and for things that would go bad anyway, if not used within relatively short time spans.
First they located everyone in the rest of their development that had survived the attack. There weren’t many. None had any type of long term supplies, or preparedness gear. They had lived after the attack in expedient shelters in their basements, going out as necessary to take food from wherever they could find it.
The decision was made to move them to the houses nearest the cul-de-sac, after cleaning them up. It would make helping them easier, and easier for them to work inside the cul-de-sac. None of them would take any of the arms Hank offered.
The next order of business was to strip the strip malls that lined both sides of the road leading into the rural development. It took days to get everything they wanted, or were asked to look for by those not going on the salvage trips. The biggest triumphs were two loaded grocery trucks stopped at one of the grocery stores. Neither had even been opened when the attack came.
With no luck getting either of the semi trucks started, everything was moved two trailer loads at a time, using Hank’s trailer and Suburban, and Juan’s work truck and tandem-wheel flatbed trailer.
They continued their salvage operations without any problems, finally getting one semi truck to run. They were able to use it to recover the two semi box trailers they’d emptied and then use the trailers to accumulate things in before taking a full load back to the cul-de-sac to unload there. Most of the items went into the community shelter and various garages that had room in them.
The fuel tanks in the two competing service stations were all approximately half-f of fuel. It took the team several days to locate enough fuel tank trailers and a three-phase generator to power the fuel pumps so they could transfer all the fuel from the tanks to the tankers. As each tanker was loaded, it was delivered to the cul-de-sac and parked in an out of the way place, keeping them as far from the houses as possible.
The team made a special trip to the nearest propane dealer and filled all the delivery tank trucks they had. There was one semi with dual tanks that delivered to the facility, and five of the ten wheel home delivery trucks. All were moved to the cul-de-sac, and like the liquid fuel tankers, parked well away from the houses.
They began running out of space to park semi trailers, and the shelter was full, as well. That was about the time that they began to meet with resistance on their salvage trips. Determined to fill the community center before they gave up the salvage operation, the team continued their task, but began to be much more careful.
The original team of Hank, Henry, Pete, Bren, and Juan became the scouts and guards for the others that now drove the vehicles and loaded up the goods the team found. Finally, with Hank shot in the right leg, and Juan with a bullet crease just above his right ear, the cul-de-sac and the area just outside of it closed ranks and prepared for the worst.
It was Bernie that came up with the idea to provide better protection to those outside the cul-de-sac and the bulging community center. “I drove heavy equipment summers to work my way through college,” she told Hank when she mentioned her idea and he doubted the group’s ability to do it.
So, after Bernice showed Juan, who already had some experience, and Henry, who was eager to learn, especially from Bernie, how to handle some of the key pieces of equipment, they went and ‘borrowed’ from the contractor that was doing some highway re-construction just five miles from the development.
Juan, who had used a backhoe before, drove a large excavator to the cul-de-sac and began to dig a shallow trench where Bernie indicated. Henry was moving all the dump trailers from the construction project over and parking them in the trench, separated by about three feet. The bottoms of the trailers were just at ground level.
After moving a front end loader, Henry began to take the dirt from the windrow Juan was making with the excavator and filled in the trench, putting the remaining dirt in the emplaced trailers. With the row of trailers in position, Juan began digging a trench a few feet away from the trailers, on the outward side. All that dirt went into the trailers. Each trailer full of dirt then had two or three fighting positions dug in and sand bagged.
More sand-bagged positions were created in the area between each pair of trailers. A gap large enough to allow a wide vehicle through was left, and a heavy gate built and installed. The deep ditch outside the line of trailers would be the first line of defense, under the guns of those in the firing positions.
If those attacking had adequate forces to get past the trailers, the next line of defense would be the cul-de-sac gate and wing walls. Non-combatants would take cover in the shelter.
Hank, who had been a roving guard, mounted on a four-wheeler that one of the residents contributed, during the construction activities brought up emplacing a full-time guard at the wall. He or she would sound the alarm if anyone showed up.
“That wall won’t do any good if people are allowed to just walk in before we know their intentions.”
Between the original cul-de-sac residents, those outside the cul-de-sac that had joined up before the attack, and those that had been found and taken in after the attack, a guard force of eighteen men, women, and older teens was organized. There would be six four-hour shifts, round the clock, manning the gate.
The ravines and heavy woods were considered safe enough during the day, as there was plenty of activity in the back yards of most of the houses, as people tended gardens and used outdoor grills for preparing food. Some families had decided to use outhouses and were constantly aware of what was going on in their small area of woods.
The rest had chosen to continue using the chemical toilets from the shelter, plus extras brought from a camping supply store. When the defenses had been completed, Juan had dug a pit and installed a septic tank with drainage field, with the help of the others. The chemical toilets would be emptied into the community septic tank.
Several people questioned all the extra work, and especially so many people going around armed. Their questions quickly faded away when three vehicles, two cars and a pickup truck, pulled to a stop at the outer gate. Elizabeth was on guard duty and sounded the alarm as soon as she saw the approach.
Hank showed up on the four-wheeler, and Juan came running up, in fear for his wife’s safety.
“What can we do for you’all?” asked Hank.
“Just out and about, looking for supplies,” said the obvious leader. He’d been driving the pickup, and just had the ‘I’m in charge here’ aura. “You seemed to have something to hide here. What’s with all the barricades?”
“Just protecting what we have,” Hank said evenly. “There are quite a few of us and we’re barely making it, food wise, so I suggest you leave and don’t come back.”
“Aw! Come on! Be sociable. How about a tour of the place. Maybe we can do some business.”
Uncertain, Hank asked, “What kind of business?”
“You give us what we want, and we give you something in return.”
“I don’t know,” Hank said, thinking rapidly. The group of people were beginning to spread out. “It would be up to the individuals whether or not they wanted to trade away their goods. What kinds of things to you want, specifically. And would pay with what?”
“Well, now, that depends, Ol’ Son…” He was fast. Faster than Hank would ever hope to be. But Juan, a closet Cowboy Action Shooter, was faster, by just enough.
The man’s pistol cleared the holster hidden just behind his hip. Juan had his Colt SAA .45 Colt out and three rounds fired before the other man pulled the trigger of his gun. Juan’s bullets all entered the man’s chest. The man’s bullet hit the ground between his feet.
Hank, still on the four-wheeler, unslung his PTR-91, but the battle was already over by the time he was ready to shoot. He decided then and there he’d be a lot more ready in a similar situation. Juan had undoubtedly saved his life with the quick draw and accurate shooting.
The rest of the armed neighbors that had taken up their positions, just as planned, made short work of the rest of the gang. Not a single neighbor was hurt, and everyone of the gang died with multiple gunshot wounds.
The firing stopped and the neighbors looked around at the dead and at each other. “A few of you check the rear perimeter, in case some are trying to infiltrate while we’re occupied here,” Hank yelled.
Getting off the four-wheeler, Hank hobbled over to Juan, who was just standing there, the single action revolver pointed down alongside his leg. Juan was staring at the boy of the dead gang member. “I never killed anyone before,” Juan said softly. “I never even shot at anyone before. It was all against a timer at a paper target.”
“You saved me, for sure, Juan,” Hank said. “Probably several others, by your quick action. Thank you.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Juan said then, going ashen.
He stumbled away and Elizabeth went over to him as Hank turned to take a look at the carnage.
“What do we do with them?” someone asked.
“Strip everything useful off the bodies and out of the vehicles. We’ll dig another grave, with the excavator. And this time, we put up a sign. Boot Hill. And leave an empty grave, ready for the next one. Maybe it’ll make some others think twice.”
No one moved toward the bodies. Limping badly Hank began the process of inspecting the bodies and taking weapons, ammunition, and accoutrements, along with whatever else there was of use to the community. Finally, a couple of the others began to help.
It was a somber group that went to their homes late that afternoon. Another hard job was at hand for most of them. Explaining to the children, kept safe in the shelter, what had gone on. And why.
The eclectic accumulation of weapons, ammunition, and accoutrements was divided up among those that wanted them. Several additional people opted to take a weapon, that hadn’t before. The lessons being learned were hard ones, but made a real impression.
Hank again took only one of the weapons. No one else really wanted it, anyway. One of the Model 2900 Trillings imported for a while by Armsport. It was a three barrel shotgun, similar to a drilling, but nowhere near the quality of most drillings. The action was sound, however, and Hank cut the barrels down to just past the forearm. The butt stock was cut down and contoured to pistol grip form.
When Juan saw Hank carrying it stuck in his belt in cross draw fashion, he offered to make a holster for it. Juan made all his own leather gear for Cowboy Action Shooting, and picked up a few bucks extra making custom gear for other shooters. In addition to the holster, Juan made up two six-shell ready loops so Hank could carry twelve extra shells for the gun.
Though a constant radio watch was maintained, and contacts had been made, there had been none close by. Shortly after the harvests began, one of the pre-teens monitoring the radio while babysitting suddenly perked up. The signal was a strong one. Someone was talking to another person that Angie couldn’t hear.
Calling for one of the other teens to watch the kids, Angie ran to find Hank. He was making rounds on the four-wheeler, giving advice and helping where he could with the harvest of the community garden and his huge garden, while keeping an eye on the woods around the cul-de-sac.
“Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith!” Angie called, running up to the four-wheeler. “Someone on the radio. I think they’re close! Talking to someone I couldn’t hear!”
“Okay, Angie! Thanks. Would you get Henry, Pete, and Elizabeth for me, please? You don’t have to run.”
Angie ran anyway. The three requested co-leaders of the community showed up a couple of minutes after Hank got to the radio. They were followed by about half of the rest of the population, Angie’s loud explanations heard by many more than the ones to whom they were intended.
Hank listened to the one-ended conversation. He paled, as did the other adults that could hear the radio. The strong voice on the radio was giving battle orders to someone.
“You think it’s military?” asked Bren.
Henry spoke first. “They wouldn’t be using an amateur frequency. They have encoded radios.”
“I agree,” Hank said. “I think it is a gang of some sort. Trying to take over a community, probably much like ours.”
Several people began to utter their concerns, but were quickly hushed. The final words out of the radio, before it fell silent, was, “Go! Go! Go! No survivors!” Everyone waited for quite some time, and Hank began to scan the same band, in case the gang had changed frequencies. But he didn’t find anything else.
“We need to discuss this,” Hank said quietly. “But this evening. We need to get on with the harvest.”
People turned away, talking quietly among themselves. Henry, Pete, Elizabeth, Stan, and Bren lagged behind to talk to Hank. But Hank was thinking and limped past them without even seeing them.
They watched silently, following Hank outside, as he got on the four-wheeler and headed for the gate. “He’s surveying the defenses,” Henry said.
“I hope he comes up with some ideas,” Bren said. “That didn’t sound good at all. A bunch of yahoos is one thing, like we’ve come up against already. That sounded like those people knew what they were doing.”
The meeting began as an uproar and got worse as Hank tried to get everyone’s attention. Hank finally gave up and sat down. It was a good ten minutes before the group seemed to have argued itself silent. All heads turned to Hank when he stood up again.
“Okay. We have a potential problem. We need to decide what to do. I take it the word has spread to everyone that there is a much more organized gang out there than what we’ve faced in the past. A gang we might have trouble handling, given the small amount of information we have.”
There were nods and a few calls to do this or that. Hank’s expression went hard when Sara, barely able to get out and around due to the radiation sickness that had decimated her family spoke up. Only she and Steven were ambulatory, and very weak. Bernie was keeping the three children alive, but barely. She had told Hank privately that they stood little chance of recovery.
“We should try and contact them,” Sara said. “Offer them some food and fuel to leave us alone.” There were a few murmurs of support of the idea.
Hank was adamant. “If that becomes the plan, you’all will have to do it without me. I’ll pack my Suburban and trailer and go. Appeasement doesn’t work for long. It only gives a group a better insight into the group making the offer.”
“I’m with you, Hank,” Henry said. He was angry again. “My dad fought in World War II because the world tried to appease Hitler instead of taking him on when he was still weak. No appeasement!”
There were some supporting Henry and Hank, but the overwhelming majority of the community was still undecided.
“Well… What do we do if we don’t try to make a peace with them?” asked one of the others.
“We seek them out and do as much damage to them as possible,” Hank replied. “Then we let them chase us back here and catch them in an ambush.”
“That’s crazy!” shouted Steven, Sara’s husband. “We’ll just get people killed and then lead them right to our door step!”
Bren spoke up then, a bit reluctantly. “He’s got a point, Hank. Do we really want to lead them back to us? If we just stay quiet, maybe they won’t discover us.”
“You’re forgetting Chap Hunniker. He knows where we are and what we have. If that gang catches him, or even anyone with whom he’s trading goods, the word will get back to the gang. It’s only a matter of time before they come looking for us.” Hank’s words had a profound effect on many of the members of the group.
Chap Hunniker had showed up one day, offering to trade salt for food and fuel. Salt was one of the items that neither Hank, nor any of the others, had stocked up enough for the long term. He would show up about once a month with another mule load of salt and empty panniers on two other mules. He left each time with his two five-gallon cans full of gasoline, and food stuffs on the other mules. He was closed mouth about where he was trading. He didn’t want the community doing their own trading, leaving him without a way to make a living.
Though he provided a needed service, no one trusted him. He would talk to save his own hide.
There was silence for a long time. Hank finally spoke again. “Let me see what kind of plan I can come up and we’ll vote on it the next meeting. Hopefully, if the group has just taken over a place, they may not be on the warpath again for a while. Hopefully we’ll have time to find them and do something before they find us.”
As the meeting broke up, Hank signaled for several people to stay behind. “I’m going to need your help and support on this, if you are in agreement with me,” he told the small group that was the de-facto government of the community. All nodded and then went to their own homes to think about the situation.
Hank, after surveying the entire property they were trying to protect, went home and got out his laptop. Over the years of visiting prep web sites, he’d saved a tremendous amount of information. He spent most of the night reviewing anything about fortifications.
Finally, with a few ideas in his head, Hank went to bed.
As he woke slowly the next morning, the plans for the community defenses finalized itself in his mind. As soon as he had eaten breakfast, he set out on the four-wheeler and did another complete survey of the property, making sketches on a large pad as he went.
The harvest was still going strong, and Hank waited for the late afternoon before he brought his team together and went over what he had planned. Just about all of them had a suggestion or two, amidst a steady stream of questions that Hank answered in detail.
“Where are we going to get the stuff?” Elizabeth asked.
“Juan will know, I’m sure,” Hank said. “But Home Depot and Builders Mart should have much of it. The Farm Store, too. And we can get the bentonite at the big golf course. I’m sure they use it to seal their water hazards.”
“Going to be a lot of work,” Pete said. “I think we should go ahead and put a couple of people on the preliminaries. Digging the fortifications, mainly. And send someone to try and locate the gang. Someone that won’t get caught.”