The Jared Chronicles | Book 3 | Chains of Tyranny Read online

  Shannon paused at the bottom of a downstroke through Essie’s hair. “We’ve eaten a lot of it,” she confirmed.

  Jared drew a deep breath, a grave seriousness clouding his usually boyish features. “We are almost five months into something that has pretty much crippled the country. Most vehicles don’t work, no food is being moved into the built-up areas, and the only government presence any of us has seen is, well—sketchy at best and probably downright hostile in reality.”

  “Amen,” Calvin breathed.

  Jared gave the older man a curt nod before continuing. “We have been extremely lucky so far finding the food we did and making our way up into these hills away from the dangers of the cities. I have been thinking about what we did to get the lights to work, and I’ve changed my mind on that matter. It is my opinion we should have worried more about things that will sustain life and less about things like power. We can’t eat or drink power.”

  The month before, the group decided collectively they would send a small group out and make contact with a friend of Barry’s whom they hoped could help them set up a small portable solar array. Barry’s friend Dwight agreed to help, but was sadly killed during their transition back from the Town of Woodside. In the end Barry was able to get the solar panels along with the Tesla Powerwall batteries married and working. The refrigerator and lights inside the house were the only two electronic components brought back to life, making Dwight’s death seem a waste.

  The group had been able to build a gravitational water system that fed directly into the house, controlled by a shutoff valve. This proved to be the greatest improvement to the group’s quality of life. Now they could fill a five-gallon bucket inside the house for flushing the toilets, and they had clean drinking and cooking water without having to walk the fifty yards to the spring-fed creek.

  “We need to get back to basics,” Jared recommended. “And by basics, I mean the basics from two hundred years ago. We can’t scavenge for canned and boxed food anymore. It’s not germane to our survival. It’s either gone, mostly gone, or not worth the risk for what’s left down in the cities.”

  Jared pointed at the refrigerator. “That has to go with us. We can use it to store and freeze meat and other perishable food items. Also—and I hate to even bring this up.” Jared lowered his head, scratching the back of his scalp. “We can’t keep bringing people into this community. We don’t have the resources to support a large group of people.”

  “No more cities,” rasped Calvin.

  Jared leaned forward, some of the seriousness being replaced by a sense of earnest. “Yes, gone are the days of huge groups of people living in close proximity. The land and waters simply can’t support it. We as a group—a community, whatever you want to call us—must embrace a more communal, egalitarian and tribal way of life.”

  “Like socialism?” Stephani interjected; her pretty face contorted in a frown.

  “No.” Jared snorted. “Not like socialism, not at all like socialism. We all work for the greater good of the group with no single person getting any more or less than the next, and no single person working any less than the man or woman next to them. Socialism as we in the modern world know it is flawed by human greed and corruption. Sure, there was equality, but only across the bottom. The people in charge lived lavish lifestyles compared to the commoners. I think we have to embrace the American Indian definition of the word egalitarian. This is not a political commitment, people, it’s a survival mechanism. We eat, sleep, hunt and live together—like the Indians or Native Americans did.”

  Stephani stiffened as she held her chin high. “So, the men hunt, and the women remain behind to cook and care for the children, is this what I’m hearing?”

  Jared shot daggers at the woman for an instant before standing. Without a word he unbuckled his belt and lowered his pants off one hip, exposing a jagged scar that obviously hadn’t received anything resembling modern medical attention at the time Jared received the wound. With his hip exposed, Jared tugged at his collar to reveal another less-offensive-appearing wound on his neck close to where it met his clavicle bone.

  “I’ve been shot twice,” Jared growled. “I’ve had the ever-loving shit beaten out of me, and I’ve been in more gunfights where I could have been killed than I am starting to be able to remember, so if any of you women want to trade places and go out looking for meat or whatever it is we need, be my guest.”

  Stephani’s eyes blazed like angry fiery orbs, causing her to look like she would either lunge at Jared or dress him down with words. Calvin groaned as he got to his feet, taking a few seconds to straighten all the kinks out of his aging body. Before he was fully erect, he’d raised a staying hand to the group, who respectfully remained silent.

  “I hear what Jared is saying about our community, and I also hear what Stephani is saying about her position in life. I would suggest we allow people to find a place best suited for the survival of all in the group. I would caution against trying to stuff a square peg in a round hole though. If someone here thinks they should be the one out in the field carrying a rifle and hunting game, then by all means get to it, but if you’re not successful and I mean quick, you’ll need to step aside so someone who is better suited can feed our community. We don’t have the luxuries the past gave us to experiment with anything close to affirmative action.”

  Stephani relaxed, sinking back into the couch as Shannon patted her leg softly. Since he was up, Calvin walked into the kitchen, pulled out a clean glass and a bottle of Knob Creek bourbon. He turned to the group, eyebrows raised in question. Jared nodded and Calvin fetched another glass. Carlos declined, as did Shannon and Barry, but Stephani got to her feet, retrieving her own glass. Calvin poured for Jared and Stephani, then watched as the woman returned to her seat on the couch, taking both hers and Jared’s glasses. Stephani handed Jared his glass, then sat at the opposite end, with Shannon and Essie as a buffer between Jared and herself.

  Calvin poured his own glass, stowed the bottle, and leaned against the kitchen counter. He swirled the brown liquid in the glass, holding it close to his nostrils, breathing in the liquor’s smoky aroma before sipping the beverage. Jared and Stephani did the same, and everyone was silent for a few moments as Shannon silently drew the brush through Essie’s hair over and over, the little girl’s face a placid mask of nothingness.

  Calvin stared at Essie, wondering what was going through her mind. After what the child had been through, it was more likely to be bad than good, he was sure of this. Claire worried him, and now Essie looked like she had somehow left her body, traveling off to God knows where, further troubling Calvin with worries regarding the mental well-being of these two.

  After Jared finished his second dram, he recommenced. “Calvin is right, we don’t have the same luxuries as we all enjoyed before the world went sideways. We also have to pick and choose as a group who we allow in and who we turn away. I’m not saying we can’t lend a helping hand now and then, but our focus should be on our tribe’s survival first and foremost.” Jared paused while he searched the faces in the house before proceeding. “We all, to a person, come from a culture that was inimical to tribal standards, which is why there are millions of dead and rotting bodies between here and the Pacific Ocean. We must embrace cooperation instead of competition, and above all we must cultivate a culture of sharing rather than stubborn individualism. These, my friends, are what will raise us above the ashes that we live in today.”

  The tiny house was silent for a few seconds before Barry slowly clapped his hands together. “Bravo, my friend.”

  Jared turned to Barry, thinking the man was being his usual arrogant self, but realized quickly, when Barry raised his hands in submission, the man was being genuine.

  “I’m serious, man,” Barry voiced with a slanted smile. “Small-tribe mentality is what will allow us to live. An area the size of California would never have been able to sustain the tens of millions of people who lived here. Every lake, river and stream would h
ave been fished clean, and the deer and other meat animals would have lasted about a month before they were either no more or fled to safer lands.”

  “Exactly,” Jared added. “We have to establish our new home, and we need to do it in an area that will support our needs. This is why I think we should not only have access to hunting meat, but also have available a fishing option. This way we don’t overtax one or the other.”

  The rest of the evening was spent discussing where exactly they would seek relocation and how large of a group they could allow themselves to grow to. With no high-speed transportation, hunting would be done on foot or horseback. Jared and Calvin agreed that at some point, a hunting party might be away from the group for days at a time. When it took a hunt party a week or more to find game, the group would need to migrate to an area where game was more plentiful. The men or women of a hunting party couldn’t very well leave the rest of the group without food for weeks at a time, not to mention the difficulties associated with hauling large quantities of meat across miles of dangerous terrain.

  Chapter 2

  As John was shoved into the helicopter, he fought the urge to look over his shoulder at the people he’d called family for the past couple of months. He also fought the urge to grab Josh’s weapon and kill the man. After John and his former team crashed during a recovery mission, he turned out to be the only survivor. These people John was leaving were initially wary of him, but eventually they accepted him as one of their own.

  As the last of Josh’s team climbed aboard the Black Hawk, which was already screaming at operational RPM, John felt the large aircraft lurch under him as the pilot lifted the collective, effectively changing the pitch in the main rotor blades, which in turn began pulling the machine into the sky. As the pilot pulled up on the collective, he simultaneously pressed the left pedal, countering a slight yaw created by the increase in torque.

  Keeping the pull of the collective slow and steady, the pilot danced on the pedals, keeping the giant flying machine aligned in the direction he intended to depart in. The pilot planned on flying the helicopter straight down a draw to the rear of the ranch house, trading altitude for airspeed. The pilot knew that as his airspeed increased so would his lift capability, which would lighten the aircraft engine’s workload. When the aircraft was ten feet above the ground, the pilot pushed gently on the cyclic, causing the Black Hawk’s nose to dip and the machine to move forward toward the draw.

  As the Sikorsky gained forward airspeed, John could feel the wind blowing through his dirty hair and beard. Looking out the side of the Black Hawk, John caught a fleeting glance of a lone figure standing in front of the ranch house, tracking the helicopter’s departure, and knew instantly it would be Jared. John held his breath until he was sure they were out of small-arms range. He’d half expected to hear the sharp metallic ting of bullets ringing off the helicopter as it passed over the ranch house, and was thankful when the sound never came.

  Now that the military held him and Jared had wisely checked his fire on the helicopter, John leaned against the seat back and closed his eyes. There would be nothing to do for thirty minutes, so he might as well conserve his energy for whatever Colonel Carnegie had in store for him. John opened his eyes once and caught Josh staring at him. The other man shook his head like a disapproving older brother. John saw no upside to engaging the other man, so he closed his eyes again, trying to clear his mind.

  John’s eyes flicked open when he felt the helicopter pitch to the left and heard a change in the beating of the rotor blades. John’s eyes moved up to see the crew chief hanging out the side door, studying the terrain below, and knew they were back at the Stockton base. Due to the fact that the airport was experiencing virtually no aircraft coming or going these days, the pilot was able to approach a large hangar directly.

  At the last moment, the pilot turned the Sikorsky into the wind and brought the machine into a controlled hover not more than one hundred feet from the hangar doors. Once the machine settled to the tarmac, the engine RPMs decreased and men began climbing out and heading toward the hangar. Josh nudged John, gesturing with his chin for John to exit the helicopter. John climbed out and followed the men already walking toward the hangar, where even more uniformed men stood curiously, waiting to see the man who’d gone native.

  Josh shoved John through the curious group of about thirty men and women, many of whom John recognized, but none who offered a kind smile or a word of encouragement. John moved through the group as if they didn’t matter as Josh directed him in the direction of a structure in the corner of the large hangar. The structure was actually a small building within the larger hangar, complete with its own ventilation system, including heating and cooling components. Inside the structure were several offices, a conference room, and a reception area. Josh assumed the lead while two of his men trailed John as they entered the offices. Josh strode through what appeared to be the receptionist area and down a long hallway. At the end of the hall, Josh opened a door and stepped aside.

  John walked past Josh, stepping into a conference room. There was a large rectangular table in the center of the room, which covered nearly seventy percent of the room’s square footage. Plush leather chairs encircled the table while pictures of various makes and models of aircraft adorned all four walls. On one wall was a sink with two smallish cabinets and a coffee maker, which was tucked back next to a tiny microwave. John wondered if the microwave was functioning, and then thought how he would far rather have the coffee maker operational than the microwave.

  At the far end of the table, seated in one of the leather chairs, was Carnegie. The colonel was dressed in full battle dress uniform (BDU) with his cover sitting on the table to his right. In front of him was a folder, a pen and a tablet of paper.

  “Sit the fuck down, shit dick,” Carnegie barked as soon as John passed the door’s threshold. The colonel jerked his head at Josh, who closed the door, remaining outside.

  John thought briefly about moving to a chair right next to the harsh old son of a bitch, but decided not to antagonize the man. Instead, John sank into a chair at the opposite end of the table.

  “That’s just perfect, you way over there and me way the hell over here,” Carnegie growled. “Kinda represents real life, if you ask me. We are at odds with one another. Me—I’m trying to rebuild the country over here while you’re off playing dip your dick with a bunch of civilians, and don’t you even try to tell me you weren’t. I’ve read your file.”

  John stared flatly back at the colonel, not saying a word. The guy was so far off base John wouldn’t have known where to start even if he thought the man would have allowed him to speak his piece. For an instant the two stared at one another until Carnegie couldn’t take it.

  “Why didn’t you just come home, boy? Why did you have to go running off with the locals and fuck things up for yourself?” This time Carnegie actually looked like he wanted an answer.

  John measured the man for a moment and came to the conclusion that he was like every other tyrant John either worked for or had gone after and killed during his tenure in the military. There was no doubt in John’s mind Carnegie was no pushover and could likely hold his own against men half his age. In short, the colonel was as hard as woodpecker lips, but he was also an abuser of power, a bully of sorts. John hated the word bully since it tended to make him sound like he couldn’t take care of his problems, but Carnegie bullied with the power of a hundred men and women behind him. These types of bullies were impossible for a single person to deal with on their own.

  “Let’s see, Colonel, you send me on a mission with dog-shit intel on a guy who is supposed to be some computer nerd and nothing else. The guy not only opens fire on my team, he escapes on a fully operational motorcycle.” John paused for a beat to let the motorcycle part sink in. “His neighbors come out after all the commotion and kill one of my guys—you remember Kastel? We nearly get overrun in that Barry guy’s neighborhood and have to leave Kastel behind. Next, we run i
nto a bit of bad luck with a bird strike followed by a crash that kills the rest of my team along with your flight crew.”

  To John’s amazement, Carnegie held his tongue as John pushed forward. “I am out trying to find the bodies of my dead mates when I run into these locals, as you called them. I watched these decent folks bury two of our guys before I made contact. I’ve been within a couple of klicks of the crash site ever since.”

  Colonel Carnegie leaned his large frame forward over callused hands he held clasped together, his chin resting on them. “Again, John, why didn’t you walk home?” he demanded menacingly.

  “Why didn’t you come get me?” John parried.

  The veins in Carnegie’s neck bulged as his face reddened. “You should have got your ass back to base. We don’t have the resources to conduct search and rescue operations when a couple of guys go missing.”

  John remained mute as the colonel glared across the table at him. “Things have changed, Johnny boy. The monthly transports stopped coming from Colorado, so we stopped going after people on the list—can’t feed everyone. The food situation isn’t great, so I’ve had to make some adjustments to our mission here.”

  John hefted his shoulders in question. “What changes?”

  “That’s above your Goddamn pay grade,” Carnegie snapped.

  John blew out and chuckled softly. “Well, give me a raise,” he quipped.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t have Josh shoot you back at whatever village you’ve been hiding out at. Give you a raise—give me a break. The whole country has fallen apart, and you run off and wanna play house with a bunch of civilians when your country needs you the most.”

  The colonel leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a second before lurching forward and locking eyes with John. “Tell me about these people you’ve been consorting with.”

  John wasn’t about to divulge any information about Jared and the rest of his friends that Carnegie didn’t already have. “What do you want to know?” he asked, feigning compliance.