The Blue Ridge Resistance (19 page)

Chapter 30: The New Reality

Evan awoke to the smell of hot coffee, fried venison, and potatoes.
Ahhhhh, that feels so much better,
he thought as he stretched and yawned. He wanted to lie there in the peace and quiet of the trailer for just a few more minutes, but his empty stomach demanded he investigate the delicious smells coming from outside. As he poked his head out of the trailer, the first thing he heard was Jason’s voice saying, “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Good morning,” he replied with another stretch and yawn as he stepped out of the trailer. “Did I miss anything exciting?”

“We solved world hunger, but other that, nope.”

Ed pointed at the stove, and said, “Your food is getting cold.”

“Ah, you broke out the Coleman. Good move,” replied Evan as he walked over and took his plate and cup of coffee.

After he ate and the men shared some thoughts of home and the uncertain future, they loaded back up, fired up the tractor, and continued their journey towards Hot Springs. As they got rolling on Highway 70 once again, Jason said, “We should have brought some bikes to back up the ATVs. They would come in handy right now for scouting ahead. It would take way too long trying to scout everything out on foot first. We would never get anywhere like that.”

“Yes, ‘hindsight is 20/20’, as they say,” Evan replied. “I think for now, the most important thing is to press on to Hot Springs and try not to get wrapped up in any more drama between here and there. We are the living definition of mission creep. We set out to do one thing, and then get involved in three others along the way. There have been a couple times I’ve forgotten this was supposed to even be a supply run.”

“Yeah, well, getting involved is who we are. I would rather be us than the kind of people that would drive right on by that house on the hill, knowing Sabrina was being raped and tortured there.”

“Me too, brother, me too,” Evan replied.

The stormy weather of the previous day had completely given way to a beautiful East Tennessee day and provided them a gorgeous view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. For the next few miles, things were relatively quiet. They stayed on their guard but enjoyed the scenery of the new life the spring season always brings. Their only distractions were the occasional abandoned car on the side of the road. As they approached, they would slow down to take a cursory look, but from what they saw, most simply seemed to have been abandoned there, as if they ran out of fuel trying to cross the mountains.

Coming across a sign that said,
Welcome to North Carolina,
Jason said, “Well, this is the first time we’ve left the state of Tennessee since our escape from New York.”

“Hopefully we won’t be gone long. It feels weird already,” Evan said as he drove past the sign and noticed it was riddled with bullet holes; once again, he began to feel uneasy about their journey.

Studying the map, Jason said, “Around the next bend to the right, we will be more out in the open, out of the densely wooded mountains, and in an area that might contain some farms. We could possibly find some barter stops along the way to Hot Springs. If there are working farms along the way, they may be sources of trade into the future as well,” he added.

“Heck, if we find everything we need doing that, maybe we won’t even have to go all the way there,” Evan said as he looked up and saw a helicopter fly overhead from left to right. “Crap!” he said, startled by its low altitude.

As Evan drove the tractor, Jason tracked the helicopter visually as it seemed to arc back around towards them as if to get a better look. “What is it? Who is it?” asked Evan.

“Looks like an Mi-24. It’s got grayish-white paint. Looks like… Yep, UN markings. It’s coming back.”

“Shit. Wait… did you say an Mi-24… as in a Russian Hind?”

Jason lowered his binoculars and said, “Yep, a Hind, and it’s coming.”

Evan looked in front of the tractor and saw a Humvee, also with UN markings, pull into the road in front of them, blocking their path. “Shit!” he exclaimed, slamming on the brakes and bringing the tractor to a halt. Ed and Nate had been looking out of the trailer at the helicopter and were thrown forward with the sudden stop.

Several armed soldiers got out of the Humvee, armed the AK-74M Russian service rifles. The AK-74M is the modern Russian service rifle for its ground forces. It is an updated version of the famous AK-47/AKM platform, but chambered in the 5.45x39 Russian cartridge and has a synthetic stock and handguards instead of the traditional wood of the previous models. The helicopter landed in the clearing off to the right of the tractor and another Humvee pulled up behind the trailer, blocking them from backing away.

“If it wasn’t for that damn helicopter, I’d drive right through this damn Humvee. We can’t get away from or fight a Hind with a John Deere though,” Evan said in a defeated tone.

Jason looked around and said, “We don’t have any options. We’re gonna have to ride this out.” He then clicked the mic on his handheld radio and said to Ed and Nate. “Just comply. Only fight if you must.”

Evan begrudgingly shut the tractor off and placed both hands on the steering wheel in plain view as the soldiers approached. As they came up alongside the tractor, he noticed one of them carried an M4 carbine instead of an AK-74.

The soldier with the M4, who had no nametape or rank insignia on his uniform, gave the order, “Place your hands on your heads and climb down.”

Evan replied, “But I can’t climb down with my hands on my head; I need them.”

“Would you rather stumble and fall with your hands on your head, or be shot for non-compliance?” asked the soldier in perfect English with an American accent.

“Damn it,” Evan mumbled as he started down with his hands on his head.

“What was that?” the solder demanded.

“I said ‘damn it’, damn it!” Evan said in an angry tone. “Who the hell are you, anyway, and why the hell are you pointing guns at us? This is a public road. We have every right to use it as U.S. citizens.”

“I’ll determine what your rights are,” the soldier replied. “Right now you are suspected domestic terrorists and insurgents. You will be treated as such, in accordance with the Insurrection Act, until cleared. Is that understood?”

Biting his tongue, Evan reluctantly muttered, “Yes.”

Soldiers from the rear Humvee cleared the trailer and removed Ed and Nate at gunpoint, bringing them up alongside Evan and Jason after patting them down and disarming them. The soldiers then searched Evan and Jason, removing their knives and handguns as well.

Hearing several of the other soldiers talk with a heavy accent amongst themselves in the background, Evan asked, “You sound American, but who the hell are those guys, and why are you working together doing this?”

“We are here under the direction of the President of the United States, in accordance with his orders and at the direction of the United Nations, operating as peacekeepers to quell the violence and instability caused by right wing extremist insurgents,” he answered. “That’s all you need to know for now. Your compliance is mandatory. Resistance will be treated as hostile intent. Do you understand?”

“Very much so… traitor,” answered Evan with a contempt.

The soldier then nodded, and out of the right side of Evan’s view, came the butt of an AK-74—and then total darkness.

Chapter 31: Insurgents

Evan awoke to a pounding headache, a swollen lip, and pain around his eyes. He tried to move, but found himself bound to a chair by both his hands and his feet. A bright light shined in his eyes as a voice with a heavy eastern European accent chuckled, and said, “Good of you to join us, kind sir. We thought maybe we had been much too hard on you, but here you are. Now, I’m going to ask you again, where are you from?”

“I’m from Kentucky… Harlan County, Kentucky,” Evan reluctantly answered as he spit blood onto the floor.

“So you are with an insurgent militia from Kentucky?” the voice enquired.

“No, that’s where I’m originally from. I don’t live there now.”

“Stop playing games with me or you may not wake up next time. Where do you currently live? Who lives with you? How many of you are there? Who is your leader? What is the name of your organization?”

“You are seriously overestimating us,” Evan replied. “It’s just me and the other guys. We don’t really have a home. We live in the back of that trailer and are on the move all the time.”

“Where was your destination when apprehended?”

“Hot Springs, North Carolina,” Evan replied, again spitting blood on the floor. The more he moved his mouth to speak, the more the bleeding seemed to intensify.

“What was your business there? What militia unit were you going to meet with there?”

“I told you. We aren’t associated with a militia. We were on our way to Hot Springs for the swap meets. That’s our deal. We scavenge and trade,” Evan insisted, hoping if the others suffered the same interrogation that they, too, did not give away any information about their loved ones back home.

“If you are not associated with an insurgent militia, then where did you get the weapons?”

“What weapons?” Evan asked, confused and still uncertain of his surroundings.

The voice then demanded, “I’m only going to say this one more time. Where did you get the weapons you were smuggling in the trailer that you were pulling?”

It was then that Evan remembered the guns recovered from Sabrina’s captors. “Oh… those weapons. We got them from a gang of thugs that were kidnapping people and doing horrible things to them. We were gonna turn them back in as soon as we found a proper authority, and here you are. So I guess we can turn them back over to you now.”

“Those weapons were stolen from a peacekeeping unit during a raid on a convoy. Peacekeepers were killed by the insurgents during the raid.”

Evan shook his and said, “The scumbags we took them from were nothing more than common criminals. They were not part of any insurgency or militia. They’re dead now anyway, so justice for your men has been served.”

The lights in the room came on and Evan got his first look at his surroundings. He was in a damp room with brick walls. He assumed he was in a basement somewhere, but could not be sure. His interrogator spoke with another soldier quietly off to the side. They appeared to be speaking a language similar to Russian, but he could not be sure. Once the interrogator was finished talking, the other soldier nodded and left the room. He returned after a few moments with two other soldiers, both armed with AK-74s.

The two armed soldiers stood in front of Evan while the third untied him from the chair. The interrogator looked at Evan and said, “We require your cooperation. This level of indignant behavior simply will not do.”

The unarmed soldier took him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Still shaky from his period of unconsciousness, Evan struggled to walk. One of the armed soldiers then shoved the barrel of his gun into Evan’s back, coaxing him to walk faster. As they left the room, Evan was led up a flight of stairs where he entered what appeared to be an old farmhouse. He was then led outside, where the sunlight caused his throbbing headache to intensify.

“Is the firing squad this way?” Evan said to the soldiers with a sarcastic tone.

The soldiers both laughed and one of them replied in a choppy accent, “That will come with time. Not now.”

They led Evan out to a barn with a guard posted on all four corners. As they led him towards the barn, he noticed the ground all around was covered with broken glass and shards of sharp metal. It crunched underneath his feet as they escorted him to the door. Upon reaching the door, they ordered him to remove and surrender his boots. Handing them his boots as ordered, they shoved him inside, causing him to fall to the dirt floor. He raised his head to see several other people being held captive in the barn. They looked as if they had been there for at least several days. Flies swarmed around piles of human waste on the ground, giving him an idea as to what kind of stay he could expect.

“It’s about damn time you got here,” said a familiar voice from a dark, unlit corner of the barn.

“Jason… thank God. Where are Ed and Nate?”

“We were split up when they took us at the tractor. You and I were put in the front Humvee, and Ed and Nate in the one that pulled up behind us. I never saw where they went.”

Evan leaned on the wall, rubbed his eye, and said, “Damn. The room just started spinning on me.”

Jason chuckled and said, “Just be glad you’re not in a coma after that hit you took. Looks like they weren’t very kind to you after that, either,” he said as he got a closer look at Evan’s face. “Damn, man, what did they do to you?”

“Let’s just say they don’t have a sense of humor,” Evan said as he sat on the dirt floor and leaned back against the old plank wall.

“What they lack in technology, they make up for with creativity, don’t they?” Evan said, referring to the debris on the ground and their bare feet.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Jason replied. “So what happened?”

“I think I blacked out during the first round of fun. When I woke up, they were demanding to know what militia we were with,” Evan explained quietly as Jason sat down next to him.

“Militia?”

“The guns we took from Sabrina’s captors—they were stolen from a hijacked peacekeeper convoy. They assumed we had some sort of connection with that.” Being unsure who could hear the conversation, or if any of their fellow captives were moles, he said, “I told them the truth. That we were just simple scavengers that ran across some scumbags that needed to be dealt with, and they had the guns, so we took them. I mean, hell, who wouldn’t take a SAW and select fire M4s, given the chance these days?”

Jason looked around the room to see if any of the other captives seemed overly interested in their conversation, and said, “I just hope Ed and Nate are okay.”

“Nate’s one tough SOB. He went through hell just to get to us. He can take anything they can dish out. Ed is a hell of a guy too. Let’s just pray for both of them. I wonder why you haven’t gotten the special treatment.”

Jason just chuckled and said, “You mean
yet
. When they do, I think I’ll just tell them you’re a top militia leader and you kidnapped me because I was too loyal to the president.”

“You go right ahead and do that, brother. I’ll haunt you after I’m dead,” replied Evan with a crooked smile.

The men’s joking subsided as the harsh reality of what was happening sank in. They knew the odds of making it out of this predicament and getting home to their families were not looking good. Even if they were released, they had been stripped of everything they had. No shoes. No weapons. No food. Nothing.

The sun was now setting and the last of the day’s rays of light that shined through the gaps in the old barn’s planks were beginning to fade. Evan and Jason found the least filthy part of the barn’s dirt floor they could and tried to get in position for as good of a night’s sleep as possible. The ever-present stench of human waste and the crying from some of the other prisoners, made the chance of sleep seem like a fleeting fantasy.

“I hope everything is okay back home,” Jason said, breaking his and Evan’s silence.

“I’m sure they’re all fine. Charlie and Jimmy should both be there by now to help keep an eye on things,” replied Evan as he tried to convince, not only Jason, but also himself, that everything was all right.

“How quickly things can change,” added Jason.

“How so?”

“Back on the homesteads, we are the kings of our world,” explained Jason. “We settle injustices, protect the weak, and support the strong. We raise our own meat and grow our own crops. We are as free as they come. With the exception of being vigilant for threats, of course. That’s the one thing we don’t have a say about. Now here we are, lying on a dirty barn floor, swatting flies—barefoot, no less.”

“Thanks for cheering me up, brother,” Evan said sarcastically.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Jason replied.

~~~~

Sounds of spine-chilling screams echoed from across the farm, waking him in the middle of the night. Reaching for his watch to see what time it was, Evan realized they must had taken it while he was unconscious. “Bastards!” he mumbled aloud. His head still throbbed with pain from the beating he took; still, he tried to listen as best he could to the sounds of agony crying out in the darkness.
Is that Ed? Is it Nate? Dear God, please don’t let it be.
He felt guilty for wishing it were someone other than his friends receiving what he assumed must be torture, as no man should have to face that hell.

“What the hell, man?” Jason whispered in the darkness.

“I know,” Evan replied.

From across the room one of the other men being held in confinement with them said, “I think he’s one of ours.”

“One of whose?” asked Evan, surprised by the statement from a man who had been silent until now.

“A man from our unit,” he said as he crawled closer to them.

“Unit?” queried Jason.

“Yep, our militia unit,” the man said, reaching Evan and Jason’s side of the room. “I didn’t want to say anything earlier because I didn’t know who you were. You could have been moles or something for all I knew. I’ve been listening to you guys all day to try and figure you out. I don’t know who you are, but I know you’re not with them and that’s all that matters to me at this point.” The man then reached his hand out and said, “Quentin Elliot; nice to meet you.”

Returning his handshake, Jason said, “Jason Jones.”

Evan also returned the handshake, saying, “Evan Baird. Nice to meet you too.”

“So when is the cavalry coming?” asked Jason.

“I wish I could say they were, but I doubt they would have a clue where we are,” Quentin said. “We’ve got to start thinking about our own way out of this mess. I’d rather be shot in the back trying to save my own ass, than to die slowly rotting away in here, or be executed once they think they no longer need us.”

“So who were you with again?” asked Evan.

“The Blue Ridge Militia. We were lying low as observers collecting data on their movements and tactics. Someone must have tipped them off to us.”

“Damn, that sucks. Talk about a betrayal,” Jason said in disgust.

“Yeah, probably someone who thought they could win their favor and be left alone, I guess. There were three of us. One of my men was killed when they ambushed us. The other… well, I’m afraid that may be who you’re hearing right now,” Quentin said in a somber voice. “They’ll come for me next. Maybe I’ll be tomorrow night. Who knows? Either way, I plan on getting the ball rolling before they get a chance. If you guys are in, we can work as a team and have a much better chance.”

“So what do you know about this place? Where are the other captives? Why are they holding us here? If they are truly UN peacekeepers, what is the point of the harsh treatment?” Evan asked.

“Let’s start with their motives for doing this,” Quentin explained. “They aren’t here to keep the peace. That’s nothing but a ruse. They are here either to stake their claim, or to ensure their influence during the reconstruction. These guys, in particular, are Russian, but there are a lot of countries that have not been all that fond of us in the past who are on our soil now as so-called peacekeepers. The UN always was a dirty organization hell-bent on equalizing the world. Well, they’ve got the ball rolling in their direction now. As to the
why
, if they squash any motivation or willingness for an insurgency now, they’ll have a much easier go of it in the long run. They know we’re a heavily armed population capable of putting up one hell of a fight, so they want to squash the fight before it starts by rounding up the possible instigators. As to why we are here, it seems to be for intel gathering purposes. Maybe they are hoping someone will crack and give up the location of militia units. From the pattern I’ve seen, they rough up one or two of a group, leaving the other alone. Then the interrogations get rougher and rougher, putting pressure not only on the one being questioned, but their counterpart that starts to realize they are next. The one being roughed up eventually cracks or is killed, then the one that has been witnessing the whole thing is brought into the picture, knowing they are about to suffer the same fate.”

“Well, that explains why they haven’t touched you, Jason,” Evan interrupted.

“Yes, it would,” Quentin continued. “There is another holding point somewhere on the other side of the farm, but I’m not sure where. By splitting groups up, they can work the same angle simultaneously. Putting the same psychological pressure on more than one person at a time. It also makes us, or our friends on the other side, assume the worst, which also steps up the stress level.”