Ozark Retreat Read online

  And when it was still freshly wet it was like quick sand, though after it consolidated and the water began to run over the top of it rather than into it, it would hold up a person, but a vehicle would mire up immediately. Star found out the hard way when she and a team were on the way to check on one of the compounds with which they had lost contact.

  The road she was driving on in Brady’s Suburban was clear most of the way. Star had been able to drive across a couple of low places in the road that were covered with ash. When she came to a point where the road dipped down into a swale Star assumed she could cross it. The ash was much deeper here than what it looked and the road was clear on the other side of the ash flow, perhaps a quarter of a mile away.

  Star did ease onto the flow, but when it seemed solid she continued. By another six feet the front of the Suburban went down to the winch and Star stopped. Everyone got out and struggled back to the exposed pavement. The Suburban was still sinking, much to Star’s chagrin. She called it in to the compound and Brady sent one of the Unimogs out to pull the Suburban free.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as soon as Brady stepped down out of the passenger door of the Unimog.

  “Stuff happens,” he said softly. “Don’t let it bother you. I knew this was going to happen eventually. Though not with my Suburban.” Star blushed.

  The Unimog easily pulled the Suburban out after they extended a cable to the trailer hitch of the Suburban. It had quit sinking when the tires had contacted the pavement under the ash. Brady had brought several five gallon buckets of water with Unimog and he started to get under the Suburban to clean the goo from the operating parts of the drive train.

  Star saw what he was doing and insisted on doing it herself. She was covered with the stuff when she finally crawled out from under the truck. Brady took off the coveralls he had on over his regular clothing and gave them to Star to put on over her soiled things so she could ride in the cab of the Unimog rather than the back. She wanted to continue on the trip, but Brady insisted she go back to the compound and get cleaned up as soon as possible. The volcanic ash was proving mildly hazardous to the skin.

  When Brady returned with the team later she was almost glad she’d got the Suburban stuck. Brady said it was bad at the other compound. None of the team said very much, but it was obvious from what they did say that the other compound was a total loss, with a total loss of life. Ash flow from the rains had scoured the side of the hill clean, taking buildings and all to the bottom of the valley. It must have happened suddenly. There were no signs at all of any survivors.

  That was the worst occasion of the ash flow, but as contact was resumed Brady’s group found out that several of the other MAG’s, with compounds on the down side of the hilly country had suffered different degrees of the same thing.

  Sam’s compound was still cut off. There were low spots on both entrance roads that were filled to the brim with the ash. They were digging out, but it was going to take a while. Brady dispatched a Unimog with a backhoe mounted to help when he found out.

  From what information they were able to gather from the surrounding countryside, a good twenty percent of the post war survivors in the area perished due to the ash fall and it’s after effects. And that was before the winter set in.

  The Ozarks occasionally suffered a severe winter, for, as Brady said one time, there wasn’t anything between the North Pole and them but a few four strand barbed wire fences. A person from Alaska would have been right at home in Branson that winter.

  The snow fell like the ash and the rains had. Often and heavily. Again the various compounds that were mutually supporting each other were physically cut off from one another. They were able to maintain radio contact much more effectively than they had during the ash fall.

  One of the groups went completely silent in January after asking for shipments of food. All efforts to contact them failed. Not even Brady’s group could conquer the snow and get to them.

  As soon as the snow had diminished enough for the Unimog snowplows to make a dent in it, Brady headed out with as much food as they could spare, and two doctors and a nurse. It took two days to get to the compound. They found that they were too late. It looked like an internal battle had been fought over the last of the food. Not everyone died of hunger. More than a few had gunshot wounds.

  Brady had all the bodies they could find moved into one room of one of the houses and the compound stripped of everything useable. They would come back in the spring to bury the bodies.

  Spring finally rolled around, though late was hardly the word for it. Shortly after the snow began to melt quickly under spring rains two more compounds fell silent. There had been no pleas for help from either one of them. It was the two most remote of the MAG’s, about equidistant from Sam’s compound and Brady’s.

  They each sent a team to one of the compounds. Brady and his team reached their assigned compound first. It was deserted except for three dead bodies lying out in the open, hands and ankles tied, riddled with bullets. Two men and a woman. All three looked gaunt. One of the men Brady recognized as Colonel Machabee, leader of the group. It was comprised mostly of ex-military and their families.

  They looked around the compound. It seemed to have been abandoned quickly, for there were still many useful items left, including a pair of generators and a full PV set up with battery bank and inverters. One of the generators was running. The compound still had running water. The kitchens were devoid of all food.

  Brady shook his head. Other than the three dead people, there were no signs of a battle. There were no vehicles in evidence. Back in the Suburban, Brady picked up the microphone to call Sam and tell him what they’d found. Before he could key the mike the radio squealed and a woman’s voice came out of the speaker. “We’re taking fire! We’re taking fire! People are down! People are down!” There were sounds of gunshots in the background and then the radio went silent.

  “Saddle up!” Brady called to his team. He led the way at the highest speed they could maintain toward the other compound. He called the compound on the radio and had them go to a defensive posture. Brady heard Sam’s voice on the radio doing the same with his compound. At least Brady knew Sam was still alive.

  They came up on Sam’s small convoy headed toward them at high speed. Both groups came to a halt and Brady climbed out of the Suburban.

  “Over here,” called one of the members of Sam’s team, stepping out of the vehicle he was driving, an old Chevy pickup truck.

  When Brady ran over he saw Sam sitting in the passenger seat of the truck, holding onto a bloody shoulder.

  “Doc!” Brady called and waved him over.

  Sam said, “Have him look at the others first. I’ve got several wounded. I can hang on for a bit longer.”

  “What happened, Sam?”

  “They laid low and ambushed us. They must have been monitoring our frequency and knew we were coming. One of them fired early, before we were in the kill zone, inside the compound fences. The rest jumped out and began firing. I saw one of them turn to the man that had fired first and shoot him in the back of the head. Everyone tried to turn around or back up and we just interfered with one another. But we finally got away from them. We maybe got one or two, but that’s all. It was a mess. We stopped when we got out of range and swapped injured drivers for uninjured and headed for your place for help.”

  “We’ll do what we can. Do you think they are on your tail?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  Brady deployed his people in a hasty ambush just back up the road a little ways in a sharp turn. Drivers took the vehicles well clear and came back to join the ambush. Brady sent the doctor and his nurse with Sam’s crew to Brady’s compound while he commanded the rear guard action.

  Brady waited until almost dark before calling off the ambush. They loaded up and hurried back to the compound. It wasn’t good news when they got there. Three of the ten people Sam had with him had died. Three more had serious wounds, in
cluding Sam.

  When Brady was able to talk Sam again, after he’d been seen to by the doctors, Brady got another shock. It hadn’t come up in the first conversation. “I saw Harvey Blankenship and two other men I recognized. It was Colonel Machabee’s group. They’ve gone rogue. I can’t believe it of the Colonel. His group has been a big help every time they were needed.”

  “Don’t blame the Colonel. He’s dead. Tied up and slaughtered with two others. His men must have turned on him. There wasn’t a scrap of food in the place, though even if they had left for some other reason, they would have taken it. Why wouldn’t they have contacted us? We could have spared some food for them.”

  “Us too,” Sam said.

  Brady didn’t want to bother him anymore. The pain killer that Doctor Amos had given Sam was taking effect. And Sam obviously didn’t know any more than he’d stated.

  Star came up to Brady. He was staring off into space, thinking. “Are you all right?” She asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “No. We don’t need this. I mean, a nuclear war and Yellowstone. Survivors shouldn’t be fighting survivors. It’s just not right!”

  “I know, Brady. But we have to deal with it.”

  “We will,” Brady said coldly. “With a vengeance. Come on. I want to talk to the other MAG commanders.”

  It was the first time Star had ever seen Brady angry. He threw down the microphone and said a bad word. “I cannot believe the others refused to join us in an attack! Don’t they realize we’re all at risk until this situation is resolved? They’ve turned rogue and killed their own. They are liable to do anything. We have to stop them as quickly as possible.”

  “Do you think… what about the families?”

  “I don’t know,” Brady looked glum. “This is not going to be simple. Would you go find Harry and Barbara? We need to brainstorm this. And check the security team. Make sure they are on high alert.”

  “Okay,” Star got up and headed outdoors. Brady was depending more and more on her and she liked the feeling and the responsibility. After finding Harry and Barbara and sending them to see Brady, Star stopped at the MAG armory. She still carried her Walther in the inside the waistband, small of back holster, but she had taken to carrying one of the MAG’s Glock 21’s in a flap holster on her hip. Brady had checked her out on it before issuing it to her.

  At her insistence, Brady had also trained her on everything else in the armory. She picked up a Steyr AUG from the armory and went to help the security detail. She joined the rovers on top of the wall, encouraging them and setting an example.

  When Barbara and Harry showed up Brady took them and Dr. Amos to his housing unit for a private conference. “What is your take on this?” he asked, after filling them in on everything he knew about the situation.

  “We have to address it quickly,” Barbara said. “As much as I hate violence, I think violence is the only response to this.”

  “Me, too,” Harry said. “We have to root them out and destroy them. I don’t relish the idea of being on constant high alert, waiting for them to attack us.”

  Dr. Amos didn’t respond, just nodding his head in agreement.

  “Something we haven’t considered is the fate of those in the Lowry compound. Did they kill them all, or are they holding them?” Brady asked. “We very well may be risking innocent lives if we attack.”

  “That place won’t sustain a double population,” Harry replied. “The Lowery MAG was scraping by as it was.”

  “You think we might be able to infiltrate and scout the situation?” Harry asked.

  Brady shook his head. “They are almost all ex-military. I’m sure they are on alert now that what they’ve done is known. That fact is also going to make it difficult to attack successfully, without losing a lot of people.”

  “I just don’t know,” Barbara said her voice low. “I really don’t want to make this kind of decision, Brady. The survival aspects were okay. Some hard decisions had to be made, but this… A lot of people are going to die, no matter what we do.”

  “I’ll back you, Brady,” Harry said, “Whatever you decide.”

  “Ditto,” Dr. Amos said.

  Their words were leaving the decision totally up to Brady and Brady knew it. “There is something bothering me about the Machabee compound,” Brady said after a long silence. “I want to check it out before I make a decision.”

  The trio broke up and Brady went to the armory and then to the Suburban, ordered the gates open, and left the compound. Star saw the vehicle leaving and ran down to find out where Brady was going.

  “He shouldn’t be going off by himself in a situation like this!” she protested, more concerned than she wanted to admit. She was ready to go after him in another vehicle, but Barbara and Harry talked her out of it, insisting that Brady would be more upset if they let her go than if he ran into trouble.

  Brady took his time going back to the Machabee compound, not expecting an ambush, but too cautious not to take precautions. He made it to the compound without a problem. He parked the Suburban and got out, carrying an HK-91. He kept it at the ready as he wandered around the compound, searching for he didn’t know what.

  Despite his care the voice from the edge of the forest caught him by surprise. “Turn around and put down your weapons! I have you in my sights!” It was a woman’s voice. It sounded scared, but firm.

  Brady hesitated but the unmistakable sound of a pump shotgun racking convinced him. He laid the HK-91 down and then took the Glock 21 from its holster and put it down beside the HK.

  “Turn around, too,” came the voice.

  Brady did so, his hands out to his sides. She hadn’t told him to put them up. He tensed when he heard running footstep coming toward him. “Take two steps forward and stop.”

  Brady didn’t move. When he felt something prod him in the back. He spun, knocking the barrel of the shotgun out of line with his body, continuing the spin with a low sweeping kick. His booted foot caught the woman in the ankles and she went down hard, the shotgun flying away.

  When he stopped the turn and spun back around he suddenly realized that it was no woman, but a mere girl child. She couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen. She was huddled on the ground now, crying, her long blonde hair hanging down over her face.

  “Geez!” Brady whispered, going to one knee to try to comfort her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She shied back away from him.

  “What is your name?” he asked gently, not trying to touch her again.

  “You know who I am! You’re one of them!”

  “Them? The people from this compound?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not. I’m Brady. From the St. Louis MAG compound. Are you hurt? Can you stand up?”

  “Really? You’re not one of them?”

  “Honest. I won’t hurt you.”

  The girl didn’t protest as Brady helped her to her feet. She took a step and almost fell. “Ow! My ankle!”

  Brady went to one knee. He felt of her ankle. It wasn’t broken, but he’d obviously bruised her badly when he kicked her feet out from under her.

  “I’m sorry,” Brady said, standing up again. “I didn’t know.”

  She didn’t comment about the ankle, instead asking, “Do you have any food?”

  It was her turn to tense when Brady leaned down and picked up his weapons. He holstered the Glock, and slung the HK. He stepped over and picked up the shotgun. It was a Remington .410 bore 870 pump. He handed it to her.

  Her eyes got big. “You’re giving it back to me?”

  “Yes. I want you to know you can trust me.”

  “It’s empty,” she said.

  “What? You braced me with an empty shotgun?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Come on over to the truck. I have some jerky and gorp.”

  She was limping, but she followed Brady to the Suburban. He handed her the food and a canteen of water. She was tearing th
e jerky with her teeth, barely taking time to chew it. Brady stood silently, letting the obviously starving girl eat until she finally stopped and took a drink of water. “Thanks. I was starving. Can I keep this for later?”

  Brady nodded. “Can you tell me what your story is?” His eyes kept scanning the forest and the entry into the compound, as she began to talk.

  “We got really low on food.”

  Surprised, Brady asked, “You’re a member of the group?”

  She frowned. “Not anymore! Not after what they did!”

  “What is your name?”

  “Claudia Machabee. Colonel Machabee was my Uncle.”

  “Okay, Claudia, go on.”

  “We got really low on food. They stopped feeding the ones that got sick during the winter and just let them die. Uncle Bob was against it, but Captain Meyers forced him to let it happen. Uncle Bob wasn’t the same after Aunt Jean died. Before he was really powerful. But he just couldn’t seem to tell people what to do after she died from food poisoning.

  “Captain Meyers said it was your fault she died. Because you wouldn’t send a doctor to help her when she was sick.”

  “What? We never got a call about anyone sick here!”

  “Really? I bet Captain Meyers was lying about it. I caught him in a bunch of lies, but Uncle Bob wouldn’t believe me. Captain Meyers kept talking bad about your group. He scouted the place out he said and you guys were taking stuff from the other groups.”

  Brady just shook his head. This Captain Meyers sounded like a head case.

  “When it got really bad, Uncle Bob and a couple of the others stopped eating almost completely and began insisting we get help. He ordered Captain Meyers to contact you, but the Captain said you wouldn’t answer. That you were just waiting until we died to come take our stuff. I don’t know why Uncle Bob didn’t get on the radio himself to check, but he didn’t. He believed in the chain of command, he said. I don’t really know what he meant, but he wouldn’t do anything about Captain Meyers. I hate him!” Claudia’s eyes blazed. “He tried to do stuff with me, but I wouldn’t let him.”