Dear Diary, It’s Me, Jessica: Chapter 21 (Book 2)

By the Author of Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica

Find the previous chapter here.

Dear Diary,

It’s me, Jessica.

“Who are they?” Jack asked.

“See the big brawler, bald white guy in the middle, leading them,” Jamal nodded over the barrel of his rifle.  “He is the head of one of the larger families on the upper floors of an office building,” Jamal continued.  “They stick mostly to themselves, only really coming out to trade.  They are the ones we think sometimes steal from others in the night.  Looks like some of the others from the community have joined them.”

Big brawler was right.  He had a few inches in height over Jack and easily twenty to thirty pounds more than Jack.  This guy ate well.  He also carried a baseball bat with several big nails driven through it in his right hand.  The way he carried it suggested he could swing it one-handed harder and faster than most men could with two hands.  I could not help but wonder if we needed a bigger gun to take him down. 

I tried to do a head count, but it was hard as the mob was moving.  I estimated about forty to fifty people in the mob, including some women and even what looked like teenagers.  The mob seemed tense, and there was a sense of anger in the air.

“Jack, I don’t see any firearms,” I said over my shoulder.  “Women and teens, too.”

“He is going to use numbers and the fact they are unarmed as leverage to negotiate,” Jack responded.  “Everyone keep cool and keep your head, but be ready.”

When they got within a dozen yards, the group stopped.  

“Jamal, heard your farmer friends here brought a shipment of food.” The brawler’s was just as deep and gravely as Jamal’s.

“They are here for a fair trade.  Those who had what they wanted got the food.  If they have food, they are willing to trade with you, that is your business.  Not theirs,” Jamal nodded back toward us.

“I am thinking we keep a few of the horses for food for now, and the women.  They go back to their farms, bring us more food, and we will then let the women go.”

“No,” Jack said sternly and stood up on the flatbed, aiming his rifle in the mob’s direction.

The brawler laughed.

“Hayseed, you would not open fire on an unarmed group of innocent men, women, and children!”

“None of you,”  Jack paused as he looked over the mob, then finished, “Are innocent.” 

The mood of the mob suddenly changed.  The anger was replaced with a sense of uncertainty and fear.  A few people took a step or two back in the direction they came.  The brawler looked uncertain.

“We outnumber you,” he declared suddenly, but the confidence in his voice was not there.

“We can change that in about two seconds.  Make ready!” Our group and Jamal’s group all snapped off the safeties on our weapons and took aim.  

The mood of the mob went from uncertainty to panic.  They broke and began to run in the direction they had come.  The brawler tried to order them to stay, to no effect.  Standing alone before us, he swore and turned and ran after the mob down the road.

Entry two

We all let out a collective sigh of relief as we placed the safeties back on our weapons.  

“Would we have really fired on them?” Katie asked.

“We would have had to,” Jamal said to her.  “If they’d started to charge at that distance before we could get ready, we might have gotten off a few shots, but they would have been on top and overwhelmed us.”

“You’re right,” Jack agreed as he looked down the road at the retreating mob.  “They are going to be a problem for you, now.”

Jamal looked down, “Yeah. Yeah, they are.”

“Do they have firearms?” I asked.

“I do not know for sure, but I am going to assume they have a few.  If they had more, they would have shown up with them.”

“May not matter.  A large group like that could easily pretend to be in the market to trade, ambush, and overwhelm your men, kill them, and take their weapons.  Then things get interesting.  You might want to consider an alternative plan.  Take those you trust, retreat to a different part of the city or the suburbs.”

“Yeah, after the nighttime firefight with the gang from the other section of the city, I was thinking it might be safer in the suburbs.  Have to look up Zillow.  See if there is anything in my price range,” Jamal said with a grin.  Several of us laughed.

Mr. Miller looked to Jack, “I saw a suburban community surrounding a park on the way in.  If there is a source of water nearby, it could be a good spot for them to set up.  Plant some small crops, root vegetables, that kind of thing.”

“Or they could come with us back to Four Corners,” I suggested.  

“I dunno.  From what you have described, Four Corners sounds nice, but I am more of a city guy or maybe a sub-burbs kinda guy than a roughing it in the sticks guy.  And I would be lost on a farm.”  Jamal’s men laughed in agreement.  “Besides, we are more of scavengers than farmers.  I am sure we could learn, but it just does not seem like me.  And, I think we have something of a good thing going with you in exchange for what we can get you.  That is our jam.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want.  But, if you relocate to the sub-burbs, take City HAM guy and his family with you.  They will need you, and you will need them.”

Jamal was about to say something, but stopped himself.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I was going to say ‘Dang smart kid.’  But that would be insulting you, calling you ‘kid.’  You are not a kid.”

“Thank you, Jamal.”  We fist bumped.  

Jamal and Jack decided it would be best to, as Jack put it, ‘re-deploy’ to a different and more secure place for the night in case the brawler and his mob would make ‘a-go’ at us again.  Dinner would be a cold meal, as we did not want the possibility of a fire giving away our position.  Being a cooler part of the year, fall was almost in full effect, which would make for cold sleeping.  

Jamal and Jack divided our groups into thirds to stand watch through the night.  Jack gave me first watch, wanting me to be well rested for the return to Four Corners.  Jack argued with Jamal for the same reason.  After a short but intense debate, Jamal agreed to Jack’s reasoning and took first watch as he and his men may have to deal with the brawler and his mob the next day.  

Jamal’s men, a few of ours, and I had just settled into our watch positions, set up our fields of fire and ammunition reloads when Jamal said to me, “Hey, Rambo!  I like to think you would have been one of the ones who took the shot at the brawler with that elephant gun of yours.”

“I was questioning if we had a big enough gun to take him down!”

“You don’t say!”

“Yes!  We had the Battle of Four Corners with a gang.  Their leader was not quite as big but still a concern.  And it was not just that he was big, but he was smart.  If it were not for Jack’s tactics, the people of Four Corners, who also fought and fought hard, Four Corners could have been lost.”

“Yeah.  What a world we live in now.”

“Surreal is what Rae calls it.”

“Oh, Rae reminds me of my grandmother, the accent that is.  My grandmother might not have finished high school but she had common sense and street smarts to the likes you never seen.  She once got into a debate with some university professor about the civil rights era and Grandmother, did she schooled her!  See, Grandmother was there as a young girl and lived it!  The professor tried to use a bunch of big words and fancy nonsense to shut my grandmother up, but she would not have it.  She used her knowledge to cut right to the chase.  In the end, the professor declared my grandmother uneducated and walked out.  My grandmother said, ‘Her loss.’  And the audience gave her a standing ovation!  Imagine that.  And now we are eating rat burgers,” he sighed.

“Right?  I was thinking the other week about how a friend of mine got married at the age of eighteen.  Before the power went out, I would have been thinking of the homecoming dance, clothes, social media posts.  And today, I was about to shoot a mob of people who would have gladly taken me and others hostage, and possibly raped us in exchange for basic food.  Not fancy stuff like McDonald’s, Burger King, or Taco Bell.”

“Yeah, though I got to admit, a well-seasoned and herb-rat burger is miles better than any of that fast food crap as long as you have some good homemade flat bread to go with it.”

Some others standing watch agreed, others laughed.  

“Right?  Our go-to is homemade sausage, green onion biscuits, or lard bread with cured and smoked ham, and if we have it, farm cheese and grilled onions.”

“What I would do for a proper chicken-fried steak, with biscuits and sausage gravy.”

“Oh.  Four Corners has that.”

“What?” Jamal and a few of his men asked.

“Yes.  This one couple and their children have an outdoor kitchen and make all kinds of stuff.   Chicken-fried steak, with biscuits and sausage gravy, is one of them.  As long as you are okay with the steak being fried in bacon lard.”

“All the better!  I would trade ammo for a bowl!”

“Next time we meet up for trade at the midway point, I will see what I can do.”

Entry three

I awoke with a start as Jack gently shook my one shoulder.  The one upside of sleeping outdoors when it was cool was that I slept deeply and hard.  Waking up took more than a few minutes.  

Diary, this was one of the few times I wished for a hot cup of coffee.  

We ate a cold breakfast.  Jack and Jamal talked to arrange for our HAM guy to coordinate with the city HAM guy about when they’ve redeployed to a safer part of the city, and for the next midway point trade.  

“Hey Rambo, expecting you to make good on trade for chicken-fried steak, biscuits, and gravy!”

“You questioning me to make good on a trade?” I asked and made a slight gesture with my rifle.

“Whoa!  Don’t go all Rambo on me, now,” Jamal raised his hands in mock surrender.

“See you at the next trade,” I said with a Jack-like grin.

Mr. Miller, Katie ,and Jack wanted to get as much distance between us and the city as fast as possible.  We set out, alternating between a trot and a fast walk.  We took a few breaks to let the Percherons and other horses water and rest, but then pushed on to Four Corners.  

As we crossed the bridge over the rushing river below, the sound of horse hooves on the metal grate of the bridge ironwork, I felt a sense of relief and comfort, knowing the security of Four Corners was only moments away.  I heard shouting of ‘All clear!’ as the word was passed, we had returned.  We had to slow to pass through the ‘chute’ and into Four Corners square proper.  

Diary, it felt good to be back in Four Corners.  Familiar faces, sounds and even smells were welcoming.  I get what Jamal meant about the city being his ‘jam,’ just as much as Four Corners was my ‘jam.’  Everyone has their own ‘jam.’  I don’t think I really realized mine until now.

About 1stMarineJarHead

1^stMarineJarHead is not only a former Marine, but also a former EMT-B, Wilderness EMT (courtesy of NOLS), and volunteer firefighter.

He currently resides in the great white (i.e. snowy) Northeast with his wife and dogs. He raises chickens, rabbits, goats, occasionally hogs, cows and sometimes ducks. He grows various veggies and has a weird fondness for rutabagas. He enjoys reading, writing, cooking from scratch, making charcuterie, target shooting, and is currently expanding his woodworking skills.