The Delivery

This is a new story I have been working on, I hope you enjoy it! There will be a comments post seperate, please use it!!! I appreciate your patience!



The Colonel fired up the woodstove, he wanted it hot enough to fix his coffee and eggs. He had some new traded coffee he had acquired at the trading post. It was the good stuff straight from South America. He wanted the coffee with his eggs, which he had gotten in from the back yard. He was sleeping in lately, sometimes he even didn’t shave. Today, he chose not to, and laughed at his reflection in the mirror. He had officially retired from the Walenburg Rangers, a military force that had been formed out of necessity fifteen years ago. Walenburg was the name of a subdivision that had the good fortune to be built on the edge of Raleigh, skirting between Raleigh and Durham. He shuddered at the memory of the dark times, which had only begun to change in the past few years. He glanced out the window, he lived in a cul-de-sac, the circle part had been turned into a corral for the horses, which had become the favored mode of transportation. He saw Shona, a black horse with white spots, staring at his window, giving him that look. Pops Malone had already fed the group, they were just waiting for their respective owners to come out and give them a ride.

The colonel was expected at his retirement job today, which was a review of the militia class just coming out. He was still considered an “advisor” although there were others ready and willing to lead. But this was his home, he was a part of the community, he had been one of the ones who stood up and said no to the chaos and panic. He would make an appearance, then move on. He wondered how his son was doing, how the grandchild was feeling. It had been a few days since he had seen them, even though they only lived a few blocks over. He didn’t want to bother them, nor did he want to seem as if he was prying in their personal affairs. His pride in his son caught his breathe, his son had earned the post of Captain in the Rangers, his son’s generation was the last that somewhat remembered what the old world was like, although he had come of age during the fall, he still remembered things like video games and Star Wars. His son had married, and was a pillar of the community. Pride in his son turned to thoughts of his deceased wife, and his happiness turned to melancholy. His wife had died in the second year of the fall, when unnamed diseases hit the community with a sledgehammer effect. She had died in his arms, and a piece of his humanity had gone with her. He made his breakfast, he drank his coffee, checking the sundial on the back porch, he started getting ready for the review. Putting on his best pair of khaki riding britches, and his old pair of riding boots, he then picked up the old safari jacket that passed for his “campaign” uniform. There were no medals, no fruit salad, just the word Colonel over the top left pocket, and on the edge of each sleeve. There were shell holders sewn in spots for his beloved 30/30 Marlin, he kept them full just for appearances, “we hardly ever shoot anyone now ‘days” he chuckled!

The militia was static, and non-negotiable. If you were age 14 or older, you were a member. The militia was built by the different subdivisions that had allied when the power went out. They guarded the wall, provided security inside the wall, and were the first line of defense. To give the young ones something to do, and build their confidence, most kids were almost full time military after school and chores. The way the militia was organized, if one of the farmers needed help, or if a construction project needed extra hands, by squad the militia unit would get the call out, and report for duty. This gave every militia member knowledge of the whole community as well as pride in the people they lived and worked with. A new class was graduating today, and the review would last about ten minutes.

The Rangers were something totally different. The Rangers operated beyond the wall, they were issued the best horses, they were for the most part an offensive cavalry force. Over the years, they had evolved into a legend, bringing order out of the chaos, running down gangs, and living off the land. They were adept at counter insurgency warfare, heavily armed and trained to fight when heavily outnumbered, they were the tip of the spear. The Colonel grimaced, because he knew how they came to be, how they came to be founded. “Not quite as romantic, as people think now!” His hands began to shake, he heard screams from long ago, he shut his eyes, opened them again. He cleared his head, and finished dressing.

He put on his web belt, with his combat machete/gladius, his well worn single action 45colt, and extra pouches holding ammo. Everything in it’s place, it was cold outside, so he put on his old trench coat lined with a wool blanket. Satisfied, he walked out of his front door, and began his walk. Shona snorted indignantly, but he wanted to walk.

He was heading to the church, which had become a community center since the fall. There were offices for all denominations, even though the church had actually started off as a Catholic church. It had had a rather wealthy group of parishioners, so it was almost a compound of it’s own before the lights went out. But it was central to five large subdivisions, all of which had to work together when it was realized that the power was not coming back on. The Walenburg subdivision had been the first to organize, so it had a leadership position with the council.

As the Colonel walked toward the center, he heard his name being called, “John!” “John!” The Colonel recognized the voice, it was Smithy, the resident weapons engineer. Smithy had been a re-enactor before everything went to hell, he had been the first to recommend making the gladius, lately he had finally found a way to use all the spare m16/m4 rifles they had, which had become useless over time as magazines failed, and parts broke. What he and his engineers had developed, much to the great happiness of the council, was a single shot 223 rifle. The receiver was a copy of a martini henry, a single shot, lever action. Levering the action open, you placed the round into the chamber, then closed the lever toward the stock. It was simple and efficient. They used old barrels from the m16, both 20 inch and 14/16 inch. The problem was over the years, they had built up a sizable amount of 223 ammo, both civilian and military, but the rifles about 6 years ago had begun to break down. Resources were always tight, and now they had a viable rifle to provide for the defense of the community. They were working on a semi auto ak variant, but it would be awhile. The capture of the airport, with its maintainance hanger, had been a big help to Smithy, who now had the tools to engineer his little empire. Smithy was carrying one of the new rifles, and a leather/cloth bandolier of ammo. “Nice day for it, isn’t it John?” “Sure is Smithy, is that one of the new rifles?” “It is John, we will be placing it on display for the new militia trainees to see. “ The Colonel, had been a 19th century history buff, and loved those old single shot rifles. Since the power had been out for fifteen years, society had basically gone back to the 19th century. Since within the first three years, 60% of the population had passed, there became a plethora of weapons, and ammunition that was traded or found. But now, because there were no replacement parts, springs and firing pins had become broken, or were failing. Since they had to use what they could make, the single shots won the day. Being able to recycle m16’s was a bonus. “Wouldn’t the Greenies be proud!” chuckled John the Colonel. All their issue m16/m4’s were at the breaking point, with most being issued with only one or two working magazines, and those were loaded from old stripper clips. These new rifles would be a boon to the security of the area.

Entering the square, 100’s of people had already begun to sit, and The Colonel took his spot on the podium. Scott Teasdale, the defacto Mayor of the operation, sat down next to John, and looked over the crowd. The 100 new Militia members were lulling around the rear of the square waiting to be brought to attention, for the ceremony. Scott was a good soul who had a knack for politics. He could talk his way off of a cliff just to talk you into jumping with him. Scott and The Colonel had a special bond, they were neighbors, and had been friends before the lights went out. Once things had begun happening so many years ago, Scott had moved with his family unto the church compound, which under his leadership had become the government center of the five communities. Scott and John had been the first to stand up that night when the power went out, arguing with the then homeowners association, about security for the subdivision, then arguing in support of forming an “army” to loot the local shopping centers for food. It had given both men a guilty conscience, but they both felt a sense of pride that their small part of civilization still survived.

A trumpet sounded, and everyone stood up for the Pledge of Allegiance, then prayers were offered, both in English and Spanish. The cadets were marched in, in their homespun khaki pants and woodland camo jackets, and stood at attention. The Colonel taking his signal from the priest, sttod to address the crowd.

“When I look at these young men and women, I am filled with great pride.” “When chaos beckoned the men and women of my generation stood up and said no!” “We decided that instead of living in fear, and living divided, we would join together and build that wall, to defend what we believed was worth defending.” “That wall is what separates us from the evils that went on out there in those first horrible years of darkness.” “There are those who say we no longer need to defend these walls, that we should tear them down, and disarm, that are troubles are over.” “But I say this is suicide.” “Our community in fact our state is making a comeback, the roads are clearing, towns and cities are once again trading, and sharing information, but we have to keep our guard up.” “Our militia, as well as all the traditions we set in place so long ago, are worth remembering, they are worth preserving, just as the history of what was once this proud nation, is worth remembering.” “Because we are better than the darkness, the chaos, and the lawlessness.” “To you, family, parents, and friends, I give you the new defenders of the faith, the new defenders of the wall!”

The crowd burst into applause, as the militia immediately threw their ball caps into the air. Everyone was on their feet, as Scott and John shook hands. “And to think I was a banker before that day.” The Colonel thought!

The Colonel stopped to shake hands, get a few hugs, and then stepped away from the festivities. He watched the young men and women, talking with their families, and stopping to smile, as the caricature artists ran around taking sketches to be painted later for a price. Scott worked the crowd as well, and seeing The Colonel, he motioned smithy, and they both worked their way over. The Colonel started looking for a place to run to, but there was none. He found a bench off to the side, and sat down. “Oh boy” he thought, “Something is up!”
Scott and Smithy both settled next to John, and caught their breath. “Great ceremony!” Smithy exclaimed, “Our militia is now the pattern for other communities across the county, and down in the coast.” Scott smiled, “We have set up trading stations, from Raleigh down to Wilmington, as cities have come together again, our militia, as well as ranger philosophy, has caught on!” John, the colonel, looked at both of them in turn, and said, “I’m not going to go on any damn fool crusade, and I’m certainly not going to “volunteer” to command one of your trading stations.” Scott laughed, and Smithy looked at the ground. “I remember how this all started, and I am done fighting!” Looking out at the skyline all three began thinking of the past….

15 years ago………



John stared out of his office window, and wondered just how worse it could be. The government had just passed new legislation that would nationalize retirement accounts. Those accounts would now be controlled by the Social Security Administration. Already, people were flooding the branch to close their individual retirement accounts, and cash in their mutual funds. He had already called his contacts at investments, to hurry and get someone over to the branch, in order to attempt to forestall the panic. Once people heard about the retirement accounts, they then began to worry about their checking and savings, and panic was in the air. “Last month it was the currency devaluation, now this!” So far the American public, although angry had stayed the course, realizing the country and world was going through a massive debt crisis, and everyone wanted the true recovery to begin. Unfortunately, the government had made bad decisions, crossing two different administrations, with two different political philosophies. Food prices were up, as well as fuel, with some states actually rationing fuel, in order to control consumption. Food trucks now traveled in convoy guarded by armed security, and grocery stores were staffed by armed security professionals as well. Everyone was on edge, and their seemed to be no end in sight. For the first time in history, every bank in town had been either robbed or the attempt to rob had been made. A few weeks ago, there was an attempt to kidnap a manager and his family, it was only the fact the he had been armed at home, that had saved his family.

John left his office and entered the lobby, trying to help the line to the teller station, handling customer requests, and trying to keep people calm. The bank had a widescreen television hung on the wall, which showed a 24 hour news program all day. John was talking to people, moving things along, when he glanced at the television. The headline showed breaking news, the screen was spliced into four sections, each section showing a burning building. Then the headline, Four schools across the country have been bombed in apparent suicide attacks. At that point, there was silence, then a reporter came on the screen, “we are receiving reports, that at least 20 other schools across the nation have been bombed .” The reporter, was obviously shaken, was looking down at a laptop screen, then she seemed to jump from her chair, “OH MY GOD>>>OH MY GOD>>>OH MY GOD!” Everyone was speechless, as the reporter seemed to lose control of her senses, she focused on the camera, and said, “There has been a nuclear detonation in Atlanta and New York. At that moment, the screen seemed to fizzle, went to snow, then a new screen emerged, a new reporter, in a different city took over, “we seem to have lost the signal to Atlanta!”

There was pandemonium, John ran back to his office, shut the door, and started the speed dial on his phone. His wife was a teacher, and was working that day. Luckily, she picked up the phone, “Honey I just needed to hear you are ok, when are you leaving?” “John, we have to get some of the kids on buses, and get them home, it won’t be for another hour, at least.” “Honey, you need to take our son and go, who knows what will happen next” “John, I will not leave these children, our son is safe with me, I will be done here soon, then I will meet you at my mother’s house.” “Alright, I will get things closed here, and meet you there, I love you” “I love you too”

John moved quickly, entering the lobby, chaos reigned supreme, a few of the tellers were mom’s in a two adult working household. They were trying to balance helping panicky customers as well as calling their spouses to find out how and when to get their kids. Fear was in the air, John hand signaled Bob, his co-worker and manager, who was trying to do the same thing. Bob yelled at John, “John, lock that door, lets help who is in the branch then lets get ready to close!” “ I just got a text from corporate, we are shutting down, for the next few days!” John nodded, distracted, as he headed for the door, by what he saw out the window, the sgnal lights at the intersection were blinking red, then green, then red, then yellow, as if someone were manipulating the signal lights. Three cars, collided in the intersection, the owner of one of the cars, didn’t seem to be getting out. John reached the door, as a group of young men were trying to enter. John got that tingly feeling, they were all wearing black, with long trench coats and stocking hats. Their hands were tightly woven into the pockets of the coats. John slammed the door shut just in time, and locked it down. The leader of the small group shouted obscenities, yelling he needed to make a withdrawal. John yelled back telling the hoodlum to use the ATM. The group seemed ready for anything, but the leader only shrugged, and they fell on the ATM, pulling out their wallets, and waiting in line. John watched for people leaving the bank unlocking the door, and letting them out, then locking it back. As the last customer left, Bob began telling the employees about his quick text then email from corporate. “The bank is going to be closed for the next three days, until this is sorted out.” “Everyone will be paid for the days they miss, it will be considered holiday pay” “Corporate headquarters is now trying to hard copy customer information, in order to save data, which may cause a system crash, so it is thought that with the current situation as well as the attempt to save data, closing down the consumer branches will save the company money and time in the future.” “Guys, let’s close up, get home and be with our families.” “If everyone wants to take a moment and call their loved ones, make plans or try to get info please feel free, but we have to get out of here.”

John called his wife, verified she was on her way with their son to her mother’s house, which was half way between the school and their home. Satisfied, he started to focus. He had planned to go to the range tonight after work, there was an informal competition going on every Thursday night, everybody put $20 bucks in the hat, whoever won got the pot, which usually ended up spent on ammo at the range. John had only won once, but he went for the comraderie, as it was a good bunch of guys, and a lot of fun. John wasn’t the type of guy that played golf, or went to a bar, but he enjoyed gun smoke. He was a 19th century history buff, and he mostly shot firearms modeled after guns of the old west, with the exception of his two 1911’s and an HKUSP 45. He had packed the USP today, as well as his new toy, a Chinese copy of a trench Winchester 1897, complete with heat shield. He had saved for over a year for this pump gun, and had been happy when it showed up at the local ffl earlier in the week. He had a buckshot load, as well as a box of birdshot, so he could put it through it’s paces. He had packed about 100 rounds of reloaded 45 as well, looking forward to the night ahead. But all that was gone now, John felt relieved that he had packed the firepower, and would feel better still when he had his pistol packed on his side. As things were winding down at the branch, he started looking out the windows, looking at the people wandering the parking lot, and seeing the mayhem of the street outside. The wreck was being cleared mostly by angry commuters trying to get home, or to get to the schools to get their kids. The panic in the air was thick, and you could cut it with a knife. “I have to get out of here!” John said to no one.

As the tellers began calling family, and closing out their registers, Bob pulled John aside, “John, the company’s computers systems were hacked, probably at the same time the bombings occurred.” “Shit” was all John could mutter in response. “Their closing all the branches, nationwide, in order to try and save as much data as they can, this hacking shut down the website, the customer service phone system was overloaded in 20 minutes” “All of that has been shutdown as well” John just stared into nothing as the full realization of the day hit home. “Bob, our country is under some kind of attack, they are hitting the soft targets, schools, major cities, now our bank accounts.” “This is incredible!”

John finished what little he had to do, helped others finish their work, and prepared to leave. The tellers, closed their stations, and began readying their bags to leave. John made one more phone call to his wife, and made sure she was at her mother’s house. She was, although the traffic lights were out on the way there. But his family was safe, and that was what counted! The staff looked out the windows and saw that the after effects of the wreck were being moved to their parking lot, which meant there were more people than usual hanging around. John thought it was strange that no police or ems personnel had arrived. But the parking lot was busy, and that added one more problem to them leaving. Walking out the door they would be vulnerable, since the door had to be unlocked than locked again. As the branch had closed people had banged on the door to get in, to make withdrawals, cash checks, they had been forced to leave angry, and then the ATM had gone down as well. This meant that there were people angry, scared, frustrated milling about. John had his pistol and shotgun in the van, but he would have to get outside to get it. He would feel a lot better if he was armed, in order to make sure that the staff at least got in their cars safely and were able to leave without any trouble. Most banks, were built before fire legislation, meaning that there was no escape door, or backdoor if you will. This was an old branch, the only way in was the only way out. John thought, if they could block the sight of the door opening, then they could get out, without making too much of a scene. People would still see them, but not from the road, which satisfied John. With the massive amounts of panic in the air, if people saw a bank door opening, and people leaving they think that the bank was open and pull into the parking lot, causing an unsafe situation. The plus was, John could then arm himself, and cover his co-workers as they went to their cars. The main thing was their safety, and everyone leaving in peace. John told Bob his plan, Bob agreed, then the staff talked it over, and everyone understood. There was no one at the door, so Bob unlocked it, stepping aside so John could run out, then he locked it back. Sure enough, as soon as John got to his van, people started peppering him with questions. John ignored them, electronically unlocked his van, and entered from a side door. Once in the van, he locked the door back, pulled a latch on the floor panel, and grabbed his gear.

The Dodge Grand Caravan is a great vehicle. It is able to carry a large family comfortably anywhere. It has power outlets in the back, with plenty of room in the seating. The kicker, the moment of greatness is it’s modularity. The backseat folds into the floor, and the center couch, comes out altogether. There are also two large hidden compartments just behind the front seats. What you have is a vehicle, that does not scream commando, but can be a versatile urban vehicle. Vans are everywhere and no one thinks twice about them. You can camp, or live in one if necessary, or carry a ton of gear.

John loaded the shotgun. Even though it would hold one in the spout and five in the tube, he loaded three birdshot rounds in the tube, with three buckshot rounds in his pocket. He hoped he would not have to use it, but if he did he wanted the versatility. He loaded the USP, and placed his holster on his belt. There was also a two mag holder for his left side, and he placed the two other loaded mag’s in it. Satisfied, he crawled into the van’s driver seat, and pulled up to the front door, shielding the view from the road. He jumped out of the van, shotgun in the ready position, and motioned Bob to open the door. Everyone bolted for their vehicles, as John kept an eye on the road and parking lot. Most people seeing the shotgun, kept their distance, and everyone made it to their car with no incident. John realized that may have been an overreaction to the situation, but he felt better. Using bungee cords, John tied the shotgun to the passenger seat, he did not want it rolling around the van, or flying around if he was in a wreck. He then began his journey to his mother-in-law’s house.