The Blue Ridge Resistance (20 page)

“So what’s your plan?” asked Evan.

“Our immediate barriers are the four guards they keep posted on the barn twenty-four seven, and the glass shards they have all round this place. With our bare feet, even if we struggled through the pain of just running straight through it, we wouldn’t make it far on mangled feet, and if we did, we would be leaving a blood trail.” He paused before continuing. “This barn is made of some pretty long wood planks.”

“Yeah, this thing is from back in the day when farmers ripped their own boards from the trees they cleared to make the pasture,” added Evan.

“So if we can work one of these things loose ahead of time, we can lay it out on the glass and run on the plank to the clear,” Quentin said.

Jason spoke up and said, “So when do you picture this happening? When could we get past the guards?”

“Our only opportunity to get our hands on one of the guards is when they pick up or drop off a prisoner. They slide that rancid food they bring us once a day under the door, so that doesn’t provide much of an opportunity.”

Evan said, “But when they bring someone in and out, their attention is focused at that moment. Short of fighting them all off, barefoot and unarmed, how do you propose that would work?”

“Oh, that’s not what I propose; I just said that’s the only time we could get our hands on one of them. Which means it probably wouldn’t work. This farm hasn’t been put back on the grid just like most rural areas, so the only electricity they have is from a generator somewhere near the house. They don’t have searchlights or anything of that nature, so it gets pretty dark out here by the barn at night. If we could get some sort of diversion, and already had a plank worked loose that we could use as an egress point and a walkway to get over the glass and metal shards, we could slip out and make for the tree line.”

“Diversion? What sort of diversion, and how do we do that from here, without drawing attention to the barn?”

“That’s the part I haven’t worked out yet. For now, let’s get to work on our egress point, and when the answer presents itself, we’ll be ready.”

Chapter 32: A Tragedy Fulfilled

Charlie stood there in shock as the tragedy unfolded before him. His good friend, Jimmy Lewis, who he had been through so much with, and whose bonds of friendship were strengthened by the journey from which they had returned, now lay dead by his own hand. He watched as Linda dropped to her knees, screaming and crying and Daryl just stood there, as if frozen in time. Unable to control his own emotions, Charlie ran out of the house and stepped off the front porch where he vomited and dropped to his knees.
What about my family?
he thought.
Are they okay? Did my wife face such a fate while I was away?

Unable to control his fears as they raced around in his mind uncontrollably, he ran to his ATV, fired it up, and sped away towards his own home. Nearly running off the road several times, he rode like a mad man. Hitting a large pothole in the now unmaintained road, he nearly lost control, having the handle bars nearly yanked from his hands. Regaining his focus, he stowed his emotions and continued racing towards his home.

As he approached his homestead, he saw Luke untying his horse from the front porch railing. Fearing Luke may be at his home for the same reason Daryl and Linda were at Jimmy’s, he slid the ATV to a stop, not even shutting off the engine, and yelled frantically, “Where is she? Where is Rebecca? Is she okay?”

Luke, realizing that Charlie must have been to the Lewis home, said in a calming voice, “She’s fine, Charlie. She’s just fine.”

Rebecca ran out of the house to Charlie, who dropped to his knees in relief and began to sob. “Oh, thank you, Lord. Thank you,” he said as he stood up to greet her, picking her up off the ground and joining her in an emotional embrace. “I thought I might have lost you. I couldn’t go on without you. Please don’t ever leave me,” he said, still in tears.

“Oh, my dear,” Rebecca said softly. “You must have heard about poor Beth. I’m okay. Everyone else is okay.”

“No. No, everyone else is not okay,” he struggled to say through the tears.

This got Luke’s attention, as he still hadn’t been able to get an update about his brother, Nate, who had been on the run with Charlie.

“Is my brother okay? Are Nate, Jimmy, Evan, and Jason okay? Where are they?” Luke asked.

“They are all fine. Well, everyone but Jimmy was fine the last I saw them,” said Charlie as he began to gather himself. “Jimmy was hurt, so I accompanied him to his house where we found Daryl and Linda looking after Beth’s remains.”

“I know, dear; it’s horrible what happened to her. Daryl caught and killed them all, but he’s been a mess ever since.”

“That’s not all,” he said. “Beth was pregnant.”

“Oh my God,” Rebecca said putting her hands over her mouth in shock.

“It’s all Jimmy could talk about while we were gone. He wanted to get back to her so badly, only to find her and their baby dead on his bed. He lost it. He completely lost his mind. He pulled out his pistol and took his own life. He’s dead. The three of them are dead now: Beth, Jimmy, and their baby.”

He then looked at Luke and said, “Luke, please go check on Daryl and Linda and give them a hand. It all just happened. They were falling apart when I left. Daryl especially didn’t look so good.”

“Yes, sir,” Luke said, untying his horse, mounting it, and riding away without hesitation.

Charlie looked Rebecca in the eyes as he held her cheeks in his hands and said, “I will never leave your side again.”

Chapter 33: Reprisals

The new day’s sun shined through the gaps in the old barn once again, illuminating the horrid conditions in which the prisoners existed. “How you feeling today, old man?” Jason asked Evan as he continued to recover from his beating.

“A little better,” he said. “My headache is finally gone. My entire face and my ribs still hurt though.”

Jason then turned to Quentin and said, “Get much done in the dark?”

“A little,” he answered quietly. “It’s the plank with the mud smeared on the bottom. It’s getting loose. It was hard trying not to make a sound though.”

Peeking through a gap in the wood, Evan said to the others, “Check this out.”

“What’s up?” asked Jason.

“Looks like our welcoming committee is bringing in a newbie. He looks pretty roughed up too.”

“Lemme see,” said Quentin, pushing his way to the gap. “Holy shit! That’s Wilkins,” he said as he saw his fellow militiaman escorted across the field by two of the soldiers with the muzzle of a rifle in his back, prodding him along. He looked as if he had been worked over pretty thoroughly. Even from a distance, one could see the blood, bruises, torn clothing, and the pronounced limp in his steps. He seemed to struggle just to stay on his feet as they moved him towards the barn. “Those sons of bitches beat him up pretty bad. Well, at least he’s still alive.”

Just then, a muffled thump, followed by an explosion, rocked the barn. “What the hell?” said Evan.

“Mortar,” replied Quentin. “One of ours, no doubt.”

The soldiers escorting Wilkins across the field to the barn dove for cover, assuming they were under attack. Wilkins took advantage of the confusion and began to make a break for the tree line, struggling through the pain of his injuries, running as fast as he could. One of the soldiers shouldered his rifle in the prone position and fired three shots, dropping Wilkins to the ground.

“Those damn sons of bitches shot him in the back! Damn it to hell!” Quentin yelled as he punched the side of the barn.

“What’s going on?” one of the other captives across the room asked.

“Not sure yet,” Jason responded.

Several well-placed shots rang out from the tree line, killing the soldier that shot Wilkins. The other escort then made a break for the farmhouse, making it merely a few steps before dropping to the ground, dead from another long-range shot. Machine gun fire erupted from the farmhouse, aimed at suppressing fire on the tree line.

During the chaos, Evan, Jason, and Quentin observed the reactions of the guards around the barn and at the main house. Two of the guards took up prone firing positions in front of the barn, facing the tree line. They were unable to take cover up close, as the glass and metal shards placed as a deterrent for escape were now a hazard to them in any position except standing. The other two guards took up positions on the rear two corners of the barn, covering the area opposite the direction of gunfire.

After a few moments of suppressing fire, the machine guns went silent as they watched and observed. “That was a probe,” Quentin said. “They wanted to poke the snake to see how it would strike. They plan to make a move. I’m sure of it. They are probably even more motivated now after what happened to Wilkins right in front of them. Look, when shit hits the fan around here, and it will, we’ve gotta make our move. They have made it clear to the rest of us that they are coming and they will expect us to be ready when the time comes.”

Just then, a UN-marked helicopter flew overhead towards the tree line. After making a few wide orbits over the trees, it began firing its four-barreled 12.7mm machine gun into the woods. “Damn, I hope they are just using the spray and pray method. If our guys are under that gun, they are as good as dead,” Quentin said.

After ceasing fire, the helicopter circled overhead for a few more moments before disappearing over the tree line to the south from where it came. “We won’t make it far barefoot with that damn thing on our heels. When your boys come, I sure hope they can deal with that thing,” Evan said in an uneasy tone

“Yeah, well… now they know. As for us though, we just need to be ready to get the hell out of here when the time comes,” Quentin replied.

“Agreed, but what about how the guards stayed put at the barn? There wasn’t an unguarded side for us to make a break for it. They held pretty firm,” explained Evan as he posed the question to Quentin.

“If they were able to get out of here to get the info back to the others, they would have noticed that the soldiers on the barn didn’t break rank. That would tell them something of interest is in here. Hopefully they will assume it’s us and use caution not to level this thing. I think, at a minimum though, it will make them focus on our guards. Our basic rescue strategy with our resources is just that. Hit the enemy and hold them under fire to allow our folks to escape. If an extraction team is required, they’ll try, but with our limited manpower, equipment, and level of intelligence, in most cases we would be limited on what we could do.”

Evan and Jason just nodded as they observed what was going on outside of the barn. After what seemed like a quiet period of observation, a team of four was sent from the main farmhouse to recover the two dead soldiers. The team immediately took the bodies back inside. Another team was dispatched to the barn, with an American-led patrol of four Russians guards. The team burst inside the barn with the American leading the way, screaming, “What do you not understand? Do you think this is a fucking game? Do you think taking a few shots at us and trying to run away will have any effect on us and make us turn away? You have a global power against your pissy, little right wing militia movement. Take that one and that one,” he said, pointing to two men cowering in the corner. Let this be a warning to your friends; if this happens again, we will kill you all and eliminate our liabilities completely.”

The four Russian soldiers forced the two men out of the barn at gunpoint, marched them outside, and directed them towards a large mature chestnut tree. They then stood at a distance of about twenty yards and opened fire, riddling their bodies with bullets, continuing to shoot until their magazines were empty, even though their victims were dead and lying on the ground.

“God damn it!” Quentin yelled. “Those two were just random civilians. They had no ties at all to anything.”

“Hey, keep it quiet,” Jason said. “That’s just the sort of thing one of the guards would hear you say, an admission of your own involvement. It sucks, yeah, but for now, you just need to eat those emotions and let the rage build inside until you can do what you need to do. For now though, survival is your mission, and keeping your mouth shut is the only weapon you have.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said as he stomped the floor in anger.

“You’re militia?” one of the two other remaining captives said aloud. “Holy shit, it’s you they want, not me.”

Quentin ran across the room, grabbing the man by the throat, squeezing on his windpipe, and said, “You shut your mouth. You say another damn word and I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Without militia groups and autonomous guard units controlled by the states free from federal control, there would be no America already. The rest of the damn world wants to carve us up and take their own piece of the American pie. Do you want your kids or grandkids growing up speaking Russian, Chinese, or some other language that the commie country that takes your piece of the pie dictates? Stand on your feet like a man and resist. Resist for the future. Resist for your children. These sons of bitches are not here for peacekeeping. You’ve seen that first-hand. They are here for control. If you are gonna go down the path of siding with them, I’ll kill you myself for treason.”

He then relaxed his grip on the man’s neck and slowly let him go, staring him in the eye, making it clear the choice he had to make. The man just nodded and sat down in the corner. Turning to Evan and Jason, Quentin asked, “What’s going on out there now?”

“They brought a tractor out from behind the house, looks like… Yep, they’re throwing a rope over a tree branch and tying it to the bodies. Those sons of bitches…”

“What?”

“They pulled the tractor forward and lifted them up into the tree, hanging upside down by their feet.”

Quentin looked back at the man in the corner and said, “That could have been you. For no damn reason other than to control the rest of us. That could have been you. You think about that the next time you consider, even for a second, helping those scumbags.”

The American who led the group that killed the men looked back at the barn for a moment, knowing his fellow Americans were watching him… knowing they considered him a traitor of the highest level. He then turned and walked back to the farmhouse with the murderers, pausing to take one more glance over his shoulder, riddled with guilt.

“That bastard is going down, if it’s the death of me,” Quentin mumbled aloud.