Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica: Chapter 28 (Book 2)

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

Here’s where the story left off last time.

Dear Diary,

It’s me, Jessica.

“What are those,” I asked Jack as he handed me his monocular.

We were lying on top of the bridge barrier, looking at four big, tan vehicles.

“MRAPs.”

“What are those?” I asked again as I looked through the monocular

“Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicles.  Armored troop carriers.”

“A guy got out, he is looking at us through binoculars.”

“What do you see?”

“Ummmm, tan uniform, helmet, chest rig thingy, tan boots, black rifle.  Military?”

“Could be.  Could be National Guard.  Could be just a bunch of guys who stumbled on a National Guard armory, playing National Guard.  It is the Maw Duce on top of the MRAPs that has me concerned.”

“Maw Duce?”

“M2.  Fifty caliber, heavy machine gun.  Serious firepower.  If they got ammo for it, we could have a problem.”

“Will they try to cross over to Four Corners?”

“They cannot.  Those MRAPs are the MaxxPro variant.  Weighs about twenty-one tons.  The bridge is only rated for eight tons.  Also, the bridge was built in the early fifties.  It was due for maintenance and upgrading some twenty years ago.  Being in a rural area, it was a low priority.  The upside is, back then, they knew how to build them to last.  But there is no defying physics, time, and gravity.”

The man put the binoculars down, unslung his rifle, and handed it to someone in the vehicle.  He put his hands up and started across the bridge at a slow walk. 

“Come on,” Jack said as he got up.  “Let’s see what he has to say.”

By the time we climbed down, and passed through the chute, he stopped just short of the chute entrance.

“You can put your hands down, Captain,” Jack said.

“Thank you, appreciate it.  Are you the leader here?”

“Jack.  One of the militia leaders.”

“And her?”

“Jessica.  Think of her as a platoon sergeant.  I do.”

I gave the Captain a smile.  

He eyed me, my rifle, and said, “Right.”  He turned his attention back to Jack.  “I am Captain Marshal Barnet of the thirty second regiment National Guard.  We need food, supplies, fuel.”

“Food we have if you have something to trade.  Supplies, not sure what we have that you could use.  Fuel?  Fuel ran out in the first few months after the power went out.”

“Any farms about?”

“They ran out last fall.  They are using oxen and other beasts of burden now.”

Everything Jack said was true.  

Captain Barnet sighed and looked down at the bridge’s metal grate and the river rushing below.  

“Where were you heading, Captain?”

Captain Barnet looked up at Jack.

“We’re heading East to try to link up with other units or what remains of them at an airfield about one hundred miles from here.  We came this way as it was a shorter route than having to go all the way north to the interstate.”

“And the map didn’t say this bridge was only rated for eight tons.  Your MRAPs are nearly twice over that limit.  This bridge was built in the early fifties and is long overdue for maintenance.”  

“You know how much an MRAP weighs?”

“I have been around.”

“Right.  What will you take in trade for food?”

“Antibiotics.  Cigarettes.  Ammunition.  Candy.  Alcohol.”

“How about silver or gold coins?”

Jack’s eyebrows actually shot up in surprise.

“That would be a first.  Have to ask around, see if anyone is willing to trade for those.”

“Okay.  I am going to go back and brief my men.  Be okay if some of us came over?”

“Things would go a lot smoother if you came unarmed.”

The Captain looked unsure.

“I give you my word, nothing untoward will come to you or your men.”

The Captain seemed to consider Jack’s words, then nodded.  “Deal.”

As the Captain walked back across the bridge, quietly Jack said to me, “Pass the word they are coming, unarmed, to trade.  Pass the word they have silver and gold.  Everyone is to stand down, but keep an eye out.  Leave a few of the Four Corners militia up on the barrier.”

“On it, Jack.”  

Entry two

Word was quickly passed through Four Corners, with the most excitement about the silver and gold.  Many people gathered in groups to discuss the value of silver and gold in a trade-and-barter economy.  Some seemed very open to it.  Others, not so much.  Sean was at East Gate when the Captain in his MRAPs arrived and did not get back to Four Corners proper till after Jack and I had gone through the chute.  I gave him a quick rundown of what was said.  

“Jack trusts him?”

“As much as Jack trusts any newcomer.  Keep an eye out.”

“Aye.  Sounds like Jack, alright.”

A few moments later, Jack came through the chute with Captain Barnet and three other men.  They all wore similar uniforms, but no helmets, chest rigs, or rifles.  Sean walked up to them and extended his hand, shaking each of theirs.  Jack and the Captain made introductions.  

“I hear you are looking to trade precious metals for food, eh?”

“If they are willing to trade.”

“Aye.  I think there might be more than a few.  Let’s take a walk about and see.”

Sean was right.  It was not long before one of Captain Barnet’s men mentioned they were loaded down and would need to come back for more food.  He also asked if they could bring the rest of the men and, “Our families, sir.”

Captain Barnet considered it for a moment.  “Be nice to have a hot lunch, sit down and talk for a bit.  Send half of the men and their families.”  

“I’d be interested in hearing how you fared after the power went out.  Buy you a drink to hear your tale.”

“It is not a very good tale, but for a drink, you’re on.”

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.