Lone Star Odyssey- First Steps

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Lone Star Odyssey- First Steps Page 4

by David Wilson


  December 1990, USN/USMC SERE Course, outside of Bangor, Maine

  It was cold. Like really cold, there was a 30-inch base of snow and more coming in by the minute and we were getting ready to depart the compound. The instructors attempted to keep a close eye on us as we were given a coke can to fill with the items we were going to be able to take with us on the survival phase of the course. I had been training for this my whole life and I knew I could leave out of here without anything (ok don’t get crazy, anyone needs the right clothing in weather like this) and survive just fine for the four days, but they, our instructors, don’t play fair. They handicap those of us that know what they are doing by teaming us up with another person. Where one person can survive, it doesn’t just make it twice as hard to keep two people going it makes it three or four times as hard. I have been in the woods hunting and trapping since I was big enough to carry traps for my Grandfather. And trust me, these instructors might be hardcore, but they were nothing compared to my Grandfather. So I stuffed everything I could into the can, my socks, and down my t-shirt. Nothing big enough to stand out but hey if you’re not cheating your not trying. Plus I knew I was going to need all the advantage I could get with the shave tail Navy Lt they had teamed me up with. I still didn’t know how he was going to climb up and down these mountains with being so full of shit, that whole I’m a Naval Fighter Pilot shit. Ok, don’t get me wrong I love the guys when they are up in the air bombing the rag heads, but when they are on the ground they are a pain in the ass. Anyway, those 300 or 400 extra calories I was able to hide away might make a hell of a difference over the next few days. It was then I knew how true the old saying was, eat when there is food, drink when there is water, don’t stand when you can sit, don’t sit when you can lay down. Anyway, with the one rabbit I was able to twist out of its burrow with a stick and the extra calories I was able to hide, the fly boy and I were able to make it just fine during the survival phase, even if those bastard instructor did screw us on the rabbit turn in (it was against the rules to eat any rabbits if you caught one, you turned it in and were reportedly traded a small vat can of stew for it. Our vat can was half empty. Bastards).

  Finishing the cereal in my bowl, I got up and tossed the bowl in the trash and grabbed a paper cup and walked over to the orange juice. Standing there I drank two cups of it down. I was really feeling the need to get on the road before something delayed me further. Moving over to the tub of bottles of water I picked up five of the bottles and headed back to my table pulled open the top of my day pack and untwisted the cap on my camel Bak. Quickly dumping in the five bottles I capped off the bag and zipped up my daypack. I sensed someone move up close to me and I looked up to see the girl from the front desk standing there. She eyed me for a few seconds than walked over to a cabinet under the drink counter and pulled out another case of water. She grabbed another six bottles and walked back and set the bottles on the table. Unzipping my pack again I stuffed the bottles inside and closed the bag. I looked up and said, “Thank you”. She hesitated than quietly ask, “Do you know what is going on?” I looked at her and motioned for her to follow me. I walked out of the lobby carrying my pack out into the alcove by the front doors. I answered her in a low voice, “Ma’am, if what I think happened did in fact happen, thing are going to get really bad around here and they are not going to get better in a long, long, time if ever. This isn’t from any riots from the attacks yesterday. This appears to be a follow on attack and this time we were hit with an EMP device of some type. I don’t know by whom or why.” She started to interrupt me but I held up my hand to stop her, “Ma’am you need to get somewhere safe really soon, gather up as many supplies like food and water that you can because by tonight or no later than tomorrow all hell is going to break loose. If the thugs and gangs have not already figured it out they soon will and there is not going to be any help coming from the government.” She turned a little pale and shook her head in denial; “We have power outages all the time. Maybe the government shut down the power after they declared martial law last night.” I stopped her again, “This is not just a power outage. Think about it, have you ever seen a power outage that also stops all the watches and phones, kills all the cell phones, causes the cars to stop working and knocks jet airlines out of the sky. Not only that, I’m sure anyone with a pace maker or implanted medical device that was battery powered is dead by now. Anything ran by computer or microchips and was hooked to the grid is fried. Open your eyes; this is not a normal power outage. The only thing that could do all of this an EMP.” This just elicited a blank stare, which in turn triggered frustration in me, “Ma’am I don’t have time to stand here and fully educate you on what an Electro Magnetic Pulse or EMP for short is. There are only two things that can cause an event like this. One is a high altitude nuclear detonation and the other is a massive coronal solar ejection from the sun. Right now it doesn’t matter which caused the EMP. What does matter is that within a few hours it is going to be complete chaos when people begin running out of water and food. Most people have less than three days of food in their homes and almost no water. Most won’t know how or where to get potable water once the water pressure goes away. And it will go away very quickly without the pumps working. At that point the normal people will panic and the lawless element will prey off the weak and unprepared. The thugs and gangs will be completely out of control. Even the normal people will begin doing things they would never dream of doing when their kids are hungry or crying because they are thirsty. Every store in the area will be looted by tonight and people will be killing eat other for a candy bar a week from now.” “But what about the police and the government? Isn’t that what FEMA does, they will come in and help the people and the Army or National Guard with keep the gangs under control,” she countered. It was this kind of reasoning that really always rubbed me the wrong way, “What about them?” I fired back, “Not only are they at home with no way to get to work and even if they could do you think they would leave their own families unprotected? They know what is going on and I guarantee they are gathering all the supplies they can to try and ride this out. You need to gather as much of this food and water as you can and get to your family as soon as possible. Quit worrying about these people here at the hotel. Most of them will be dead or dying within the week. I know that sounds harsh but you need to open your eyes and realize you can’t do anything for them.” Gesturing at the horizon, “Where do you think all of that smoke is coming from, every transformer in the city shorted out and most of them started fires, the cities and built up areas are burning. Didn’t you hear the planes crash last night? What do you think knocked all of them out of the air? The reason they crashed is that everything just shut down. Get home and protect your family.” She just shook her head and said, “No the police and government will get this under control.” I just smiled and said, “Good luck.” I picked up my pack, slung it on and headed across the parking lot not willing to waste any more time and effort on attempting to convince her just how very wrong she was. Looking back now, I was wrong, it was much, much worse than I ever imagined.

  Chapter Two

  SHTF Plus 9 hours

  I know the mall is about three miles as the crow flies but about four miles if I follow the roads. I plan to head to the mall in as straight of a line that I can. I’m already thinking about what items I really need to make it back to Texas. Right now at the top of the list is a good pair of wire cutters as I stare at the seven-foot high chain link fence separating me from the direction I’m wanting to go. I follow the fence for a short distance and find a place I can crawl under it. I can already see another fence just like the one I crawled under several hundred yards south of me and running parallel with Highway 195. Maybe two or three good pairs of wire cutters and a small set of bolt cutters, these fences are going to get old really fast. If I had to I can always climb over but I’m not as young as I used to be. Turning 55 this year didn’t mean much to me as I don’t feel any different from when I turned 3
5 or 45. I not much of a runner anymore but I still attempt to stay in pretty decent shape, just ask my wife, she will confirm that round is a shape, she can really be a smart ass, just one of the many qualities I love about her.

  Once I get up on the highway I think what I really needed right now was a good mountain bike, I would have to keep my eye out for one I can burrow. There has always been a lively debate among the prepping/survival community about what is theft/looting and what is scavenging when the shit hits the fan or SHTF. Not much debate with me right now, I would not/will not take something by force from its rightful owner but I will scavenge whatever/whenever I can. My only purpose in life right now was getting back to my family as quick as I can by whatever means I can. Right now I have to get outfitted for the long haul and get the hell out of this area and get west to the Blue Ridge area before heading south.

  I do have a few additional skills picked up growing up in the county, my twenty years in the Marine Corps and added to by the next fifteen years of contract work in the Middle East. As I walked south toward the mall I recalled the conversation with my wife about taking this job in the Socialist State of Maryland. I attempted to come up with every excuse not to go to Maryland, I’d have rather gone back to the rock pile (that’s Afghanistan for you non-military types), oh I’m sure most of the people who reside in Maryland think it is a great place, I just happen to disagree, so sue me, last time I checked this is or was a free country, that is unless you are in Maryland and want to conceal carry a firearm to protect yourself and your family. But that was yesterday and from what it looks like the clock just got reset to sometime around the mid to late 1800’s. Anyway I was driving my wife crazy and had to get back to work. I had been home since the end of May after spending the last four and a half years in Afghanistan.

  I know that sounds like a long time to be deployed but the pay was good and the mission was worthwhile. The unit was made up of some of the best each of the services had to offer and it was never boring. Plus with the triplets growing fast I needed to bank as much money as I could between riding lessons, gymnastics, karate, dance, swim lessons, and the beginning of private school. Yes, I need to get home as fast as I can. My wife is one of the smartest people I know and does have some good skills, but outdoor survival is not one of her strong points. While she can and has done all of the survival schools and is a decent shot with both a handgun and a M4, her idea of camping is at a four star or above resort. Again based on the time of the event, she would have been home with the kids and more than likely our neighbors were home too. If anything, my neighbor is as prepared as I am to defend his family and I know he will keep an eye on my family also. Between the supplies he has and the ones I have stored at the house they should all be fine for a good period of time. At least they are off any of the main highways that will become a nightmare with all of the people pushing up out of downtown Houston. At least not anytime soon, but I really do need to get there before it becomes necessary to bug out of there. Her parents are about 50 miles away, but knowing them they will do whatever it takes to get to them.

  I get to the next fence running along side of 195 and find a hole large enough for me to crawl under. Even though the event took place around 1230 AM last night, there are several dozen cars and trucks stalled in view on the highway. I take a couple of minutes looking into the interiors of a few cars closest to me to see if there is anything of use to me but as luck would have it, I didn’t see anything. That is until I spotted a work truck about 50 yards away. You know the kind that has tool compartments in place of a normal truck bed. I cautiously move up to the truck and check the area to make sure no one is in the area. Finding some tools would be a huge find and would potentially save me a lot of time down the road and was worth the time now. Kneeling down next to a car, I drew my Glock from the holster and double-checked that I had one in the pipe and was ready to go. After re-holstering the Glock I stood and slowly approached the truck. I just knew all of the toolboxes would be locked and hopelessly wished I had my pick kit with me. After all the training and practice I finally have a situation where I really needed my pick kit and didn’t have it with me. TV shows and movies always make it look so simple and easy to pick a lock. Anyone that actually knows how to pick a lock knows it takes hours and hours of practice to develop the “touch” or “feel” to be able to pick a real lock. Of course there are tricks to a lot of locks, especially the cheap ones, but really most locks are only made to keep honest people honest, not to keep out trained professionals. The old saying, opportunity makes a thief, is not really true, honest people don’t steal other people’s stuff, whether it is locked up or not. I think of last week when I got to my new job. As soon as I arrived they assigned me to a cube and of course all of the desk draws and cabinets were locked and no one knew where the keys were. It took me an hour or so of messing around with my penknife and a heavy-duty paper clip but I was able to unlock all of the drawers and cabinets. Defiantly not a time record for opening up such simple locks but I’m out of practice.

  As it turned out all of the thoughts of picking locks was a waste of time as well as brain cells. Upon trying the first bin it flipped open at a pull of the handle. Inside hanging in plain view was a key on a bright yellow fob marked “Truck 4 tool bins”. I immediately looked around scanning the area, hardly believing my luck and thinking ok this is too easy, I’m about to get hit with a lighting bolt or something, because I just do not have this type of luck. But then again, I will take it the easy way for once. I glanced up and said, “Thanks,” never know when I might need to beg a favor.

  Yes, I will admit it, I have been called or you might say earned the title of “gear whore”. I just can’t resist a new gadget or tool. Most turn out to be junk or worthless, but once in a while someone develops something that is worth having and keeping. The only reason I mention this is because the vehicle I had just found was obviously a plumber’s truck and had just about any tool you could dream of. Now my problem was what to take and what to leave. There were so many scenarios running though my mind, but I needed to “choose wisely”. Right now I was kind of feeling like that guy with Indiana Jones trying to pick the right cup, I would need the right tools for the right job, but didn’t know exactly what the job was. The next 24 hours were critical to my chances of success in getting home. After that, much of the gear and supplies would be harder if not impossible to find. Right now any kid with a .22 rifle was far more deadly than I was. Not that I’m too shabby with a handgun but really anything over 25 yards I would have to kindly ask the target to stand still for a couple of seconds so I could shoot him. I don’t think I’m going to get many of the thugs and gang bangers to cooperate with me. I really need as AR-15 or better yet an AR-10. I mentally kick myself for not traveling with my own AR, but had talked myself out of it as I needed to take all of my suits and crap for work. I had to already pack two bags with all of my work related clothes (worthless now) and my heavy winter dress coat (even more worthless now). More so I didn’t want my wife to think I would be spending all of my free time on the range, at least not until the money began flowing in again.

  So after doing another scan of the area, again seeing nothing moving in the area, I turned my attention back to the truck and the tools. I began by making a pile of any tool I thought might be useful. A set of screwdrivers, a hand full of zip ties, a small crescent wrench, a large crescent wrench, a crow bar about three feet in length, a medium size set of bolt cutters, tin snips (could come in handy for cutting into duct work), a box cutter with a small box of new blades, a small set of glass cutters (can you say “Jackpot”!!) complete with a four inch suction cup, a three pound ball peen hammer, a hacksaw with a pack of four new blades, a set of Allen wrenches, a small vise grip plier, a large vise grip plier, two cold chisels, a tool belt, a coil of .5 inch rope complete with safety harness, a tape measure, four road flares (never know when you might need those), a can of WD40, a couple of rolls of duct tape, and last but not least a small portabl
e cutting torch setup. The gauges showed full on both the oxygen and the acetylene bottles. Of course portable is a relative term as the set weighed about 30 pounds.

  I remember right after I got to my first unit at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina that I learned what man portable is. I was straight out of Infantry Training Company and was assigned to H&S Company, Heavy Weapons Platoon, 2nd Battalion, 6th Marines, when an old Gunny told a bunch of us boots (means new guy in the USMC) that a 106 mm recoilless rifle was man portable and just to prove his point he had us do gun drill all morning. Set it up on one end of the parking lot, simulate firing, break down and carry it to the other end of the parking lot, setup, repeat, repeat and keep repeating until the Gunny got tried of standing around and giving us advice and telling us how we where all shitbirds and worthless to his beloved Corps. Maybe his jaw just got tried, he was a complete ass but he really knew that 106 mm and the M2 (Ma Deuce for you old timers) .50 caliber machine gun. Never to this day have I seen anyone set the headspace and timing on an M2 as fast as Gunny could do it. But was the 106 man portable, just about like a fighter jet, with enough Marines just about anything is man portable, still doesn’t mean I want to carry the damn thing by myself.

 

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