Jernigan's War (3 page)

It took Porter the rest of the afternoon to make his way to the floor of the valley. He was terribly thirsty but resisted the urge to drink from his jugs, having no way of knowing when he would find water again. Porter recalled the tumble he had taken earlier in the day. He quickly realized that there was no one to take him to the doctor or the emergency room, a small injury could kill a person. The valley floor was narrow at this point and there were no homes here. Lucking up on a large rattle snake, he quickly dispatched with it with a rock. With his knife he skinned the snake and speared it on a stick. He built a fire using his Boy Scout magnesium fire starter. He found water in a rock depression so he drank from one of his jugs of clean water. The snake made a good meal. He took the skin and laid it out on a stick so that the smoke from the small fire could dry and cure it. He had no idea what to do with it, but it was pretty and if worse came to worse he could eat it. Porter could hear gunfire on the mountain top in front of him; so he decided to spend the night where he was, nice and secluded. He no longer feared the night. When he first joined the Boy Scouts he was afraid of camping at night. Even with the rest of the guys in the troop around him, Porter was terrified of the night. Now there was nothing in the dark more terrifying than what had happened to him in the last 24 hours. He drank from the half empty water jug and fell asleep in front of the fire.

CHAPTER 5

RESCUE

D
ix’s daughter, Maggie, and her husband, Bill, lived in New Orleans; but, Dix had lost contact with them over a month earlier. Dix’s son in law was a physician and worked in the emergency room of one of the hospitals. They were staying put because the authorities were providing food and lodging at the hospital and physicians were in short supply. Rumors out of the city and reports over the shortwave indicated that New Orleans was basically a road warrior scenario.

Dix decided to make a trip into the city to see if he could find and retrieve Maggie and Bill. He called the family together for a meeting. Jake’s friends, Aaron and Tracy Jones were the first to come in. They were a young couple that Jake met since moving to the Gulf Coast. Tracy was pregnant; but, Dix hoped he would not be called upon to deliver the baby. The other couple arrived with a fresh baked loaf of bread. They were not married but had been living together for more than a year. Craig Wilson was formally a corporal in the marines and had two tours of duty in Iraq under his belt. Tonya Gant was just a college girl who wasn’t in college any longer. Craig had the skills to kill and Jake had been
learning hand to hand combat from him. They all set around while the hot bread was sliced up and slathered with canned butter. The canned butter came from New Zealand where it was shipped to areas without refrigeration. Dix had bought several cases along with other provisions that he had been accumulating. Everyone was in agreement about trying to rescue Maggie and Bill. Jake and Aaron volunteered to go but Dix nixed the idea over everyone’s objections. Dix argued that this was a one man trip. Their survival depended on numbers and they were at an absolute minimum as it was. Dix would go alone.

Since traveling by road or air was out of the question, Dix needed to find another way to get in and out of the city. He knew where a friend kept his catamaran sail boat stored. His friend had bugged out two months ago in his motor home to his retreat in Idaho. There was no way to know if he made it. It would have been a miracle if he even made it across the Mississippi River. Using the catamaran, Dix figured that he could head out through Back Bay, into the gulf and up the Mississippi River to the city. He estimated it would take two days to get to the city, one or two days there, and two days back.

Their supply of fuel was getting very low. Dix had enough diesel fuel to bugout in the motor home; but, he would have to sacrifice some for the catamaran’s diesel engine. The boat house was about three miles from his house. Dix waited until after two in the morning before he and Jake headed to the boat house. They pulled out of the drive with the headlights off and drove slow and quiet. As usual they were armed to the teeth. When they arrived at the boat house they found that it had been looted like every other abandoned structure in the country. Fortunately the catamaran was still there. Dix went on board and found that although the cabin had been ransacked, nothing had been destroyed. The batteries were missing from the engine compartment; but, the engine was intact. The fuel tanks were empty; but, Dix expected that.

They spent the next day accumulating what they needed to get the boat running. In addition to the batteries and fuel, Dix loaded a case of MRE’s, bottled water and an AR 15 with six- 30 round magazines in addition to the one in the rifle. He added a Browning high power 9 mm with two thirteen round magazines, a boat anchor, batteries from his fishing boat and four five gallon cans of diesel. He also took a bugout bag with medicine, and enough supplies for him to live for a week should he have to abandon the boat and try to walk home.

After a prolonged argument with Mattie, about going alone, they loaded up the gear and headed out. It was around 2:00 am again and they quietly made their way back to the catamaran and loaded the gear onto the boat. Jake waited until Dix got it cranked and the doors open on the boat house. After Dix motored into the bay they conducted a radio check. Dix waited in the middle of the bay until Jake radioed back that he was safe at home.

Dix kicked the diesel engine into little more than a fast idle and headed for the open bay and then out into the Gulf of Mexico. In the dark of the early morning there was no noise or movement. He turned on the GPS when he reached the open gulf. The sun was coming up and he could see for miles; but the wind was cold blowing off the water. With the help of one of the winches, he raised the mast and unfurled the sail, killed the motor and headed almost due south.

Dix had spent two weekends on the boat with his friend last summer so he knew the basic lay out and operation of the vessel. The boat had a shallow draft so sticking to the channel was not an issue. He navigated by the GPS until it was too dark to see ahead, finally setting anchor in about eighty feet of water. The wind had pushed the seas to about five feet which made for a miserable night. The small cabin was cozy and the bunk was comfortable but the constant motion kept him from sleeping.

The next morning Dix cranked the engine and let it run until the batteries were fully charged. He opened an MRE and ate the crackers and jelly along with a bottle of water. After another six hours of sailing, he was at the mouth of the river.

His sailing skills were not up to the task of sailing up the river against the current. He tried it for a while but the turns in the river plus the debris floating down the river made it impossible. He cranked the little Yanmar diesel and motored up the river trying to stay in the middle of the stream when possible. It had been some months since the corps of engineers had cleared the channel. There were a number of sunken vessels aground and in various states of decay. There were also dead bodies flowing downstream. At least one body floated by about every thirty minutes. He kept a wary eye out as he made his way towards the city.

At mid afternoon a large aluminum boat carrying several men approached from the rear. Dix popped off a couple of rounds over their heads with his rifle. Instead of backing off, they shot back. Dix kicked the engine out of gear and opened up with his rifle. They were still under power. In the time it took for them to stop their boat in order to aim, he had emptied a magazine. They were shooting back from about two hundred yards, and, for the most part, missing him and the boat. An occasional round hit the boat; but, they were having trouble maintaining accurate fire. Dix, on the other hand, put every round into the passenger compartment of their boat. Their boat pulled into a position that was parallel to his in the water about 150 yards downstream. Dix concentrated his fire on the engine. His EOtech holographic site was precise and well sighted. The cowling on their outboard was coming apart. He was certain that several of the full metal jacket bullets had torn through it and the aluminum engine block. The engine was smoking and soon stalled. He turned his attention back to the passenger compartment. The shooting had stopped by the time he emptied the second magazine. Both boats were drifting downstream in the current. Their boat seemed empty; there was no sign of life, only the burning engine. Smoke was
starting to billow from the back of the boat in front of the engine. Dix replaced the empty magazine and turned his attention back to the catamaran kicking it into gear. In less than two minutes he had disabled their boat and probably killed one or more of them. He kept an eye on them as he turned the next bend in the river. The catamaran was running fine, and there were only a couple of bullet holes in the cabin.

Dix moved back to the helm inside the cabin as he neared the city. There was a string of partially submerged barges sitting near the bank of the river; he pulled the cat up among them so that it was hidden from the river as well as the shore. Someone would have to be on top of the barges looking down in order to see where it was anchored. After lowering the mast to further hide it from view, he finished his MRE while waiting for dark.

Dix changed into a life vest and a pair of swimming trunks. He placed his bugout bag containing his clothes and gear into a large garbage bag and then put that bag inside another garbage bag. He then sealed the bag with duct tape to keep out the water. He swam around to the end of the barge and stayed next to it until he reached the shore. The barge shielded him from the main current of the river. The water was very cold and Dix was blue and shaking by the time he reached shore. He wasted no time drying off and getting dressed. He shook the water off the garbage bag, folded it and put it in his bag. His boots felt good on his cold feet. He built a small fire from dry drift wood to warm himself. After he was warm, he killed the fire and attached a green LED lamp on the bill of his cap. He used it just until he reached a level above the high water line on the levee where it was somewhat clear of debris.

Dix carefully made his way to the top of the levee where he could look out across the city. There were many small fires
burning in the city. There were no lights; but there was occasional gunfire and commotion. There was no vehicular traffic that he could hear.

He sat for a long time to get his bearings and consult his GPS. The satellites were still working. He determined that he was on the levee behind Audubon Park, an area that Maggie had called The Fly. In happier times, college students and families used to spend free time on this part of the levee. There had been a baseball field and a dog park. All of that had been razed. His daughter lived in an upstairs apartment on Broadway only about three miles from there. He marked this spot in his GPS and made note of his location on a notepad in his shirt pocket. He then turned off the GPS to conserve the battery. He carried a map of the city he had printed off some months earlier before the internet went dead.

Dix casually and methodically made his way down the levee and through the park, heading towards St. Charles Avenue. He wanted it to appear to anyone watching that he was just a drifter out scavenging for food. His AR15 was slung so that it hung out of view behind him. He could deploy it with one motion. His shoulder holster held his Browning 9mm. He carried two knives, a folding pocket knife and a large hunting knife. A multi tool was also in his pack.

Anytime he saw someone, he froze next to the nearest tree or vehicle, knowing that it is almost impossible for humans to see something motionless at night. Most of the night vision equipment in public circulation was no longer working because they all require batteries. Police and military would still have functioning equipment, but most others would be dead.

The smell of dead bodies hung in the air. There was a bonfire in the middle of the road ahead. He eased up to where he
could observe without being seen, careful not to silhouette himself against the fire. He could see a bunch of people around it; but, they seemed to be minding their own business for now. Dix elected to block around it rather than go near the fire. When he was a little closer he realized that there was a body on the fire or rather over it. They were either cooking or cremating someone. He didn’t want to find out which.

Dix arrived at his daughter’s building from the rear. It was a narrow quiet street. He estimated the time to be around 10:00 pm. When he reached the back entrance, two small dogs were barking from under the house. He briefly switched on the light and was both glad and sad. Maggie’s two dogs, Bernie and Hereaux, were living under the old house. They were unkempt and starving. He knew his daughter was not home; these fellows would not be out there if she was. He broke out an MRE and a bottle of water and fed them. He took off their collars with the noisy dog tags; he didn’t want to attract any attention as he made his way carefully around to the front door. He didn’t need the spare key to the door, it had been broken open. He once again flipped on the green LED light and unholstered his pistol.