Jernigan's War (5 page)

THE ENEMY APPROACHES

T
he next morning Porter awoke to the sounds of birds. He finished the gallon of water he had drunk from the night before. Porter refilled the empty gallon jug from the rock depression full of water. Helicopters could be heard overhead and large booms echoed up the valley. He started the ascent of the next mountain. The mountain he climbed up was higher than the one behind his home. When he reached the top and looked back over the valley he no longer saw a bustling thriving city. He saw columns of smoke. A heavy haze hung over the valley like a fog. Helicopters were coming in over the mountain and disappearing in the direction of the port. He could hear heavy jet engines somewhere out of sight but high in the sky. Explosions could be seen in the distance. Further down the ridge of the mountain a rocket came out of the trees and disappeared into the sky. A trail of smoke was all that remained as is screamed out of view. A faint boom echoed across the mountain from far away in the sky. Moments later the entire ridge of the mountain below him exploded as high explosive shells riddled the mountain top. Porter ran. The mountain was afire and he took refuge in a concrete and metal building at the base of a radio tower. Porter was scared now, how was he going to survive this mess he found himself in?

It only took a couple of hours for the fire to consume the entire area and burn itself out. Porter carefully left the building where he had waited out the burning. He walked down the road, otherwise the hot coals from the burned woods and brush would have melted his tennis shoes. He came to an area of absolute carnage. There were dozens of Chinese troops dead and blown apart in what once had been a roadside park. He silently walked among them. The sight of the torn and mutilated bodies was not something he would soon forget. He found backpacks, food, guns, ammo and miscellaneous equipment, some only partially damaged. He thought quickly and starting dragging what he found down a hill into a ravine. He found a spot where he was hidden and sheltered behind some large rocks. He made four trips with equipment down into his hideout. He was heading up for his fifth trip when he heard movement ahead. He stopped at the edge of the clearing. A group of men had arrived and were busy looting what remained. He waited long enough to make sure they were not aware of his looting and the path he took down into the ravine.

When he got back to his hideout, he placed his .22 rifle where he could get his hands on it in an instant. He emptied the packs and spread out the contents. He took the best looking of the AK47’s and gathered up ten loaded 30 round magazines. He had taken a pistol and shoulder holster off one of the men who appeared to be an officer. He adjusted the holster to fit his small frame. Porter thought it was a nine millimeter and it had three 7 round magazines, one in the pistol the other two in pouches on the right side of the rig. He practiced with the unloaded gun until he mastered its operation. He then loaded it and placed it into the holster where he could get his hands on it. He put a large knife that was sheathed on his belt. He put a small stone knife sharpener in his pocket along with his pocket knife. He chose the cleanest of the backpacks and adjusted it to fit. It was larger than the Boy Scout pack that he had been using.

Porter took a large musty smelling coat suitable for cold weather and spread it out in the sun on one of the rocks. He hoped the exposure to the sun would make it smell better. He had a good supply of food, most of it in the form of sweet cookie tasting cakes in vacuumed sealed pouches.

There was no way he could carry everything. He rinsed out two of the canteens and filled them with the last clean jug of water he had. He sat the other gallon jug in the sun to let the ultraviolet light kill any pathogens suspended in it. This was a trick he learned while earning a Boy Scout badge. He decided to load the pack with his possessions from home. He was able to strap three of the AK47 magazine pouches to a vest he found. Each magazine pouch held two magazines. The other four he stowed in a pocket on the back of the pack. He couldn’t bear to part with the .22 rifle. Fortunately it could be taken down into two pieces. He placed these down either side of the pack so that all he had to do was open the top and pull them out. He put his .22 bullets in a pocket on the inside of the pack. In the middle he folded his extra clothes, toiletries, and his family picture. Finally he topped it off with his beans and sausage.

He discarded all the other gear including the snake skin. He could barely walk with the pack, rifle, canteens and ammo. It was just too heavy so he unpacked it once again and decided to eat all the can goods. The sweet cookies were much lighter and weren’t packed in heavy steel cans. The rest of that day and the next he spent resting and eating the extra food that he had found. He figured that it was better to consume the extra food than leave it. He had once read a story about an Indian who had escaped on horseback. While heading back to his home the horse became lame. The Indian killed the horse and stayed with it; cooked and consumed it over the following weeks. He continued on only after the entire horse had been eaten.

Porter practiced walking with the full load including his blanket tied in a bundle over the top of his pack. He continued walking around with the pack and finally had the load diminished and the pack adjusted to fit. His mother’s jewelry and that from the man he killed he kept in his left front pants pocket.

The morning of the third day he put on the vest and pack. He had never taken off the pistol or the shoulder holster. He put the rifle sling over his shoulder and neck and had the rifle hanging in front of him. It was loaded and after having played with it for several days, he knew how to use it. A couple of the men back at the NRA shooting range had them and had let him shoot them a couple of times. This rifle was different, it had a third setting on the safety that he assumed would let it fire on full auto. He had resisted the urge to shoot it because he didn’t want anyone to know he was hiding in the ravine. His mother’s canvas shopping bag was stuffed between the pack and his back for added padding. He had drank all of the water from the milk jugs and still had his two full canteens. He discarded the milk jugs because he simply had no where to put them. He left all the other gear included the empty .38 pistol scattered around the campsite. He was afraid that the time would come when he would have to discard his .22 rifle.

After a long climb up out of the ravine he was having second thoughts about the load he had chosen to carry. The scene at the top of the ridge was a very different scene than he remembered. The bodies were bloated and covered with flies. Birds and wild dogs were picking at the bodies, all the extra gear was now gone. Porter quickly put the scene behind him as he headed down the highway. This road led to another that would take him east over and out of the mountains. He trudged down the road under the burden of his pack. The weather was mild and only once did he see anyone. He left the road each time he heard traffic coming and stayed out of sight.

It was late in the afternoon when a group of men came out of a side road several hundred yards down the road. Porter had stopped in the shade to rest. No one would notice a lone figure sitting on the side of the road in the shade of a small tree. He waited until they had disappeared down the road before he proceeded. When he reached the side road he turned and walked up it. The road was really a driveway to a home. He slowly made his way up the driveway until he came within view of a house on the hill. The home appeared vacant, the windows were busted out and the door was open. A skeleton was scattered in the front yard. He wondered if the skeleton belonged to a bad guy or an innocent victim. He didn’t go into the home, but concentrated on the large garage in the rear.

The garage was an older building, possible a remnant of an old farm or ranch building. The side door was open; he paused before going in to see if he could hear anything. There was no sound so he stepped inside. Light filtered through the windows on the sides. The dust danced through the rays of the strong afternoon sun. The building appeared to be ransacked as the boxes that once stored tools and hardware were dumped in the floor and were laying empty on top. He noticed one spot that was clear next to the wall. And when he looked closer he saw the trail left on the dusty floor from a wheel that made an arc from the wall out into the room. He also saw a set of footprints that was left in the dust leading away from the hidden door. Chills ran up his neck when he realized that he had stumbled upon someone’s hideaway. He quickly started backing towards the entrance when a booming voice from it proclaimed, “Congratulations boy, you are the first person to spot my hideaway.” Porter almost wilted; but, bucked up and turned around. The big man was laughing, “I’m not going to kill you, what’s your name kid?”

“Porter Jones, Sir, everyone just calls me Porter.”

“My name’s John Johnson, son; but, all my friends call me Big John, are you hungry?”

“No sir, I’ve been eating Chinese rations; so I’m not hungry yet.”

Big John looked at him shrewdly, “What are you looking for?”

Porter shrugged, “Nothing in particular, I was hoping I could find a bicycle or something, I’m heading to Louisiana to my Grandfather’s house and at the rate I’m going I’ll never make it.”

“I might can fix you up with something you can use, meanwhile why don’t you help me skin a goat I’ve got strung up out back, you stand guard and I’ll skin the goat.” They walked around back to where Big John had a large old Billy goat hanging by his rear legs. Big John pointed to a gap in the bushes where Porter could sit unobserved. “Make yourself comfortable in there, is that AK47 loaded with one in the barrel?” Porter nodded yes as he hid in the bushes. Big John leaned his big shotgun up against the tree and said, “It’s a good idea to shoot first, if anyone walks up male or female and they’re pointing a weapon at me or you, just aim and shoot and don’t stop until they are down.” He helped Porter adjust the sling so that it was easy to get to his shoulder to shoot. Big John made short work of the old goat and had him skinned and quartered in no time flat. He rolled up the skin and threw the quarters into a large garden cart. They took the entrails and bones and buried them under the mulch pile. They cut the horns off the skull before chunking it into the woods. The horns would make knife or tool handles.

The hidden door in the garage led down to a 1950’s era bomb shelter. Big John’s dad had built the shelter, Big John had inherited the property after his parents died and moved back to the home where he had grown up. It was quite spacious and even had an escape tunnel that let out into a ravine down the hill where they chunked the goat head. That night they cut the goat into small strips and dropped them into a barrel of salty liquid laced with flavorings. They cooked some in a skillet and along
with some onions it made a hearty supper. Porter slept on a fold out army cot that night and enjoyed his first shower in weeks. He let the water accumulate in the tub where he washed out his clothes. Not wanting to wear out his welcome, he thanked Big John for the food and bath and offered him a handful of .22 bullets as payment. Big John refused, “You don’t owe me anything for the grub and bath. You’re the first company I’ve had since all this went down. I don’t have any family and you are welcome to stay a while. I’ve got plenty of food for now and I can’t stand guard 24 hours a day. Besides, you’re going to need transportation and it’s going to take a few days to put it together.

The next morning, Porter asked Big John, “Why don’t you come with me, I’m sure my grandfather wouldn’t mind?”

“Porter, that’s mighty kind of you to offer, but we’ve got one little problem. The only thing keeping me alive is a pace maker that has a battery that’s almost used up. It was supposed to have been replaced 6 months ago, but under this new health care system they set up I was put on a waiting list. The bottom fell out before my name was called. I figure sometime in the next three to twelve months it will go dead and me along with it. This is as good a place as any to ride it out. I grew up here, my folks are buried just up the road and I’m pushing 75. No, this is where I’m making my stand.” Porter didn’t know what to say. He just looked at the ground “I’m sorry Big John.” After a few awkward moments Big John clapped him on the back, “Let’s look into that transportation I was talking about.”

Out back in the brush Big John had a large camouflage tarp over a pile of stuff he had hidden from the barn. He pulled out a funny looking motorcycle with two tractor tires. “I bought this thing last year with the idea of exploring all the trails around here but my heart started sputtering on me so I just never got around to using it. I only made one camping run on it. I even have a trailer to pull behind it with camping gear. You can run it almost
all day on a couple of gallons of gas and it will go up to about 35 miles an hour. I had the tires filled with foam so it and the trailer will never get flats. It is called a Rokon Trail Blazer. Both wheels have internal storage for gas and both are full along with the gas tank. You have about ten days of gas, and with the extra ten gallons I have back at the barn that will give you another five. That should get you close to Louisiana. It will at least get you across the desert. Once you get across the desert you can trade it for a horse or a mule if you can’t find any more gas. This all terrain bike will climb a 60 degree incline which is almost steeper than you can walk up. It will also float so you can float it across a river or lake if necessary. After we practice with it a little this afternoon, we’ll look over the maps and my atlas and figure out the best route for you to take.” The rest of the afternoon was spent teaching Porter how to operate and maintain the motorcycle.