Ozark Retreat (9 page)

Another compound went through the same thing as Sam’s. They joined forces, the other camp moving lock, stock, and barrel to Sam’s.

One of the main reasons for the excursions, besides making group contacts, was to find as many delivery trucks as they could and recover useable supplies. Branson was a tourist attraction and didn’t have all that much useable goods, compared to its size. But they did need constant re-supply of consumables, so Brady and his group were able to scavenge quite a bit.

Brady’s MAG was light on people like truck drivers so more agreements were set up with Sam’s MAG and some of the others to share the resources found with the other MAG’s providing the drivers and mechanics while Brady’s group, with the most fuel and operable vehicles did the scouting and much of the labor. They also provided for the health care of several of the MAG’s that didn’t have medical personnel. The doctors and nurses made their own arrangements for trades and barters.

There had been no city, county, or state government left to speak of, and the feds were staying in the cities and just outside to try to get some semblance of infrastructure going again. Remote communities were left to their own devices. Which suited most of the MAG’s in the Ozark Mountains. They were doing okay for themselves for the most part. The weather was still crappy, and Brady’s MAG’s greenhouse goods were in great demand.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Brady and Star were taking a casual stroll along the parapet wall, as was their wont from time to time. Not on duty, just enjoying being out. They felt a jolt and Brady grabbed Star to steady her as the ground and the wall shook for long moments.

“Wow!” Star said. “Earthquake!”

The two hurried down off the rampart and away from the wall in case an aftershock toppled it, as unlikely as that was. They looked around. People were coming out of all the buildings to see what was going on.

Everyone waited tensely, but no aftershock came. Finally, Brady and Star headed to the blast shelter, where the communications gear was still kept. “Any reports?” he asked as soon as he came in.

“Yeah. Everyone local seems to have felt it. I’m running the HF amateur bands to see how wide spread it was.”

Brady and Star sat and listened as the amateur began to contact their list of operating stations around the US. “Funny,” Amanda said after talking to quite a few people. “I figured it was the New Madrid fault, and the early communications kind of supported that. But I’m not getting anything from Wyoming or the Dakotas. There were a lot of survivors up there.”

“Yellowstone!” Brady said half under his breath.

“What?” asked Star.

“Yellowstone Caldera,” Brady explained. “It’s been acting up the last few years. It’s one of the super volcanoes volcanologists have recently discovered. If it has blown big time, it is going to be bad.”

“Even here?” Star asked, skeptically.

“Possibly. Probably. Not a lava flow, of course, but ash. Lots of ash. Possibly toxic ash.”

“How soon?” Star suddenly believed Brady.

“Probably a day or more. We have time to get the hatches battened down.” Brady turned back to Amanda. “Keep us informed.” With that he headed out of the shelter. Star followed.

Brady began to gather people together, sending some to get others. Star stood beside him as he began to explain what he thought was going on.

“What about our people that are out helping the other MAG’s?” was the first question that came up after he finished describing the probable effects of a super volcano explosion and how it might affect them here.

“I’m going now to get on the radio with the other compounds,” Brady replied. “We’ll recall all of our people as soon as we can. Start getting things ready, like you would for fallout dust.”

“Star,” Brady said as the group began to disperse, “I didn’t see Barbara. She’s probably napping with the baby. Would you go check on her and fill her in?”

“Sure, Brady.” Star hurried toward Barbara’s family’s housing unit as Brady headed back to the blast shelter.

He sat down beside Amanda and got on one of the radios kept tuned to the frequency used for communications between the compounds.

Brady talked to each of the leaders, or their seconds-in-command, of all the MAG’s with which they had contact. There was mostly disbelief, though all had felt the earthquake. All agreed to send Brady’s people home as soon as possible.

With his people all accounted for Brady relaxed a little, but was soon up and supervising the preparations. Barbara left Jamie and Jane in the capable hands of the school teachers and went with Star to help with the preps. There wasn’t that much to do, but volcanic dust is abrasive and often times corrosive. Everything was put under cover that could be. A couple of tools were made up to brush ash from the tops of the greenhouses if it started to build up. Brady didn’t think it would, but the greenhouses were an extremely important part of their food production and he wasn’t going to take any chances with them.

Routes were planned to allow the equipment to plow important areas clear of the ash. Part of Brady’s initial planning had involved volcanoes. He had the materials on hand to make a pair of large cyclone air pre-filter systems for two of the U500 Unimogs. He put their machinist and welder on the job. The snow plows were attached and the trucks parked, ready to go.

Long handled brushes were made similar to the greenhouse ones to clean the windows on the Unimogs, since they would very likely be used during the ash fall. Using the regular wipers could easily scratch the glass as they dragged the abrasive volcanic dust across the windshield. It might not be much of a problem, since the windshields on the Unimogs were nearly vertical in orientation. But again, Brady wasn’t taking chances.

All the air handling systems in the buildings were cleaned and filters cleaned or replaced. Large pre-filters were fitted to the air intakes using up much of their stock of spare HVAC filters.

And then they waited. All the rest of that day, and all the next day. People were beginning to wonder if Brady had been wrong and began grumbling about not being able to go about their regular business. All doubts vanished that Friday morning when the ash began to fall. It was worse than any blizzard any of them had ever been in. It was dark as night. The ash cloud blocked out all sunlight.

The ash fall started heavy and it continued heavy. At rates up to four inches an hour. Four people suited up as they had for the fallout decontamination and went to the Unimogs to start clearing the inside of the compound of the first layers of ash. They continued to go out from time to time to do so as the ash fall continued unabated for three full days and nights.

The accumulation rate fell drastically after the third night, and the sky brightened, but ash continued to fall lightly for another week. They had kept the open areas of the compound cleaned very well during the time the ash was falling. It would be months before they got rid of the accumulations in all the nooks and crannies.

Brady suited up one day and used the Bobcat A300 with bucket to cut a short trench out in the deepest part of the ash fall outside the compound so he could measure it. Approximately four feet, eight and one-half inches had fallen in total. The working areas of the property were cleared, as well as the area around the compound.

It was going to be years before some of the areas around the property not used heavily were cleared. It was all the two Unimogs could do to clear a single lane to Juan’s farm. They tried using the big snow blowers they had for the Unimogs, but the blade wear was too great. As it was, using the snow plows was eating them up, but they were much more easily repaired.

The sunny days had been scarce before the volcano. Now they were nearly non-existent. The sky was hazy all the time. Even after it rained. And it rained a great deal. The rain did wash much of the ash away, at least on sloped ground. Large areas were cleared, the ash moving to the adjacent low spots, filling entire creek beds and gullies, even entire small valleys. In places the ash accumulated to thirty, forty, fifty feet and more.

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.