By Joseph Harold

Chapter 13
Home Front III - Tuesday, July 10th

Shane sat in front of a roaring campfire. Staring into its flames, a tired look on his face. He wore a camo hunting shirt and brown pants. A blue bandana was tied round his left bicep over the sleeve of his shirt. The bandana was the insignia of the Blue Mountain Patrol, of which Shane was a member. His sister was too, but she had started to split her time patrolling with keeping the garden tended. Tonight, she was at home. 

Shane had teamed up with Jim and his brother Chester on this patrol. They had been out for two nights now. This morning, Chester had shot a deer that was standing at the edge of a field, as they walked a trail that circled one of the properties that they were protecting. The gutted and skinned deer hung from a tree behind their tents. They would have to get the meat back to the house tomorrow and get it processed and preserved quickly. Hunting in the middle of a hot July made saving the meat a priority. 

“What’s your sister doing tonight, Shane?” Jim asked. “I sure do like when she comes out on patrol with us,” he added. His creepy grin looking over the fire at Shane.

Shane was growing tired of Jim’s obsession with his sister. He had shown an uncomfortable amount of attention to her ever since they had joined the Patrol. “She is tending the garden today,” he said tersely. “You do know she isn’t interested in you, right?”

“I know that, but a girl can change her mind. I’m a good guy. She’ll figure that out one day.” Jim pleaded his case. “I won’t wait around forever though,” he added.

Shane just looked at him. He knew she was never going to become interested in any kind of relationship with Jim. That was part of why she started cutting down her patrol times to work at home. She had confided in Shane that she really didn’t like him hitting on her all the time. Shane didn’t like it either. 

Being in the Blue Mountain Patrol had been pretty good so far. It gave him something important to do and working on the patrol increased his family's food supply and added more variety. It felt good to help the community. They would travel their patrol route from near Route 50 up Tilthammer Mill Road. Along the river to 617. Into Briggs then down 255 to Millwood and back to where they started. They would visit each farm in the area that was occupied and would always be on the lookout for wild game to add to the pot. From time to time, they would venture north and west of their usual operational area, but the river had been their eastern border so far. The one time he had ventured past the river alone to see what was up at Mount Weather was the only time he had climbed the mountain. They would also spend time fishing when they could. Adding that protein to the table. 

They were keeping everyone safe from the marauding bands that seemed to be cropping up in the area. A clear show of force was working to keep them away, looking for easier prey than the well-armed locals that were clearly organized and ready to defend themselves.

So far, the army had not come into their area either, but they had seen them traveling up and down route 50 every day. 

There was something going on at Mount Weather that he was concerned with. When he went up the mountain and observed the military post, he saw the army trucks seem to be going to and from there at all hours. It seemed to have become a very important place in this new world. He didn’t think these men were the same army that his father belonged to. He had the feeling that they were part of Flaherty’s Army. 

The news of the attacks and takeover of the government and armed forces by Richard Flaherty and his Regime had been passing amongst the families who were under the protection of the Patrol. A lot of what had happened and why was still unknown, but they had come to figure out that avoiding the men dressed in the camo uniforms and driving the military vehicles was the smarter thing to do for now. They had been lucky that they hadn’t been bothered by the rogue army yet. They wanted to keep it that way. 

Shane didn’t really like patrolling with Jim and Chester, but that was how the rotation had worked out for this week. Jim wasn’t only creepy; he had a mean streak and sometimes he seemed to get a little power hungry. You could tell some families feared him and Shane was sure he was doing cruel things from time to time with that power he now had as the leader of the Patrol. 

Chester wasn’t as bad as his brother, but he usually followed his brother’s lead. He was a couple years younger than Jim and looked up to him. He was a good shot with the rifle as the deer hanging behind them professed, but he just seemed to be a little slow on the pickup for most things. Chester was on the heavy side and not very tall. He had a strange laugh that was starting to grate on Shane’s nerves. 

Jim pulled out a jar of moonshine that he had picked up at the last farm they had visited. The man who made the liquor had given it to the patrol in exchange for some dried venison they had been carrying. He took a swig and sprayed some of it into the fire. The fire flared bright for a few seconds from the high proof liquid, then returned to its normal height. 

Jim laughed and did it again. Once again, Shane just stared at him. He was coming to realize that Jim’s leadership skills left a lot to be desired. Jim passed the jar to his brother, who tried to repeat the trick with mixed results. Shane took his turn with the jar. Just taking a small sip to warm his insides and relax his mind. The last two days hadn’t been hard, but he was ready to get back to the farm for a couple of days and take a break until the next rotation started. 

The fire died down and the men bedded down in their tents for the night. Shane lay in his sleeping bag, wondering when his father was going to get home. He was beginning to lose hope. It had been over a month since he left on his training mission just before the war. He knew that he was far away and hoped that he was still out there somewhere, trying to get back to Millwood. Trying to get home to his family.