Lone Star Odyssey- First Steps

by David Wilson

  I was a little surprised to see the size of the pile of tools I had selected. A quick calculation put my collection at about 30 pounds not counting the cutting torch and tanks. But hey, I was only going to have to hump the stuff a couple miles and I’m a fairly good size guy, 6 feet 2 inches and roughly 230 pounds, I can handle this. Ok, right, I had to get rid of some of this, even if I wasn’t going to walk right up and kick in the door in board daylight I would need some of this stuff but not all of it. My rough plan was to arrive in the area and watch the place until it got dark, then attempt to enter the store somewhat surreptitiously. Yes, I do know what that means, if you don’t look it up.

  Making my choices, I decided against the tool belt and some of the larger tools. I double checked the cutting torch tank levels, cracked the acetylene valve and squeezed the striker a couple times in front of the nozzle. The acetylene lit with a pop sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet morning air. I quickly cracked open the oxygen tank and the smoking flame turned into a jet of first red then blue flame about three inches in length. I shut down the oxygen tank than the acetylene and rewrapped the hoses around the tanks. I hefted the kit, not too bad, maybe 25 or 30 pounds; I can handle that for a couple hours. This thing would make quick work of any door lock. Much better than breaking out a window, which in this silence could be heard for a long distance, even after taping it up first. Stuffing the remaining tools into my backpack, I slung on my pack, bent over and picked up the cutting torch and headed south along the shoulder of the road.

  The quiet was eerie, no vehicle or people noise of any kind, the only sound were my boots hitting the pavement. After about 20 minutes of walking, I hit the train tracks that run towards BWI, as they were running Southeast, I decided to follow those as the likelihood of running into people along the tracks was much lower than staying on the highway and they would not take me though any residential areas. Right now I did not want to have anymore contact with groups of people than I had too. Plus it made for much easier walking than attempting to cut directly across country. As I walked my mind once again drifted to what had happen. I couldn’t help but think that whoever did this they had picked an excellent time to strike as the government was pretty much shut down for the holiday and long weekend. After the attacks targeting black leaders, most of the major cities had been in the middle of rioting and looting. But most of America would have been home or wherever they had taken off to for the holiday. Many of them would’ve done exactly what I had done, just rolled over and gone back to sleep thinking the government would get things settled back down and that the power outage was due to the riots. It was good the EMP event happened late on Sunday night, Monday would’ve been one of the busiest travel days of the year. But with that said it also stranded many critical government and professional types away from their places of work. This will further complicate any effort of assistance from the federal government. Congress was not in session so many, probably most, congressmen and senators were away from DC and would be stranded at whatever location they were currently at. I would think that at least some of the military vehicles and aircraft were hardened against EMP but so far this morning I have not seen or heard a single vehicle or aircraft. In fact since leaving the hotel this morning I have not heard a single human made sound. The silence again reminded my that I had to get clear of the major built up areas here in Maryland and get west to the Shenandoah Valley. A rough plan was forming in my mind to hit the Appalachian Trail and take that south or maybe hit one of the major train rail lines and follow that South. Either way winter was going to catch me and slow me down. I would worry about that later, right now I had to get clear of the DC/Baltimore area.

  Breaking out of my daydreaming I realized the tram track had turned almost due south. According to my map I should be about one mile from the mall area. As the train track turned south it gave me a good view of the southern horizon. Thick black smoke was rolling across the horizon to the south and southwest. From my viewpoint most of the fires appeared to be in the direction of the District with only one close by. The close one was maybe a mile south of me and appeared to be dying out. I was torn between checking out the fire and continued on towards the mall, which was to my southwest.

  According to my map the railroad spur breaking off to the west would be my best route to take but if I continue south on the tracks they would run directly into the Route 176, which would also take me to the mall area and would take me near the smoke column to my south. The more I thought about it the more I wanted to take a look at the site and talk to any first responders to find out what they know about the event. After about 10 minutes walking along the tracks I moved into a wooded area to the west of the tracks that were moving back south. I wanted to be able to observe what I thought was a crash site before I approached the first responders or investigators from the FAA. I also want to drop off my tools and equipment before approaching the site. No need to answer questions that I didn’t have to as all the equipment I was currently carrying might raise a few eyebrows.

  Once again I wanted to kick myself for traveling without my normal bug out bag. I had pulled out some of my stuff because I was already going to be taking so much with the two bags of dress and winter clothes I needed and I didn’t want to have to worry about everywhere I would have to drive in Maryland, let alone doing it with a bunch of what the Maryland PD would call prepper junk. My original plan was to fly home in a couple of weeks, just for the weekend, and bring back a few more things. My normal kit would have had my bino’s in my pack but I had pulled those out along with my snares, fire kit, main water filter, and most of my emergency food and first aid. With the thought being that I would get it that weekend when I went home.

  Chapter Three

  When I was directly across from the crash site, I stashed my tool bag; cutting torch and backpack under a small bush pile and made my way back to the train tracks. I’m no stranger to bad scenes having seen about the worst kinds of horror in the aftermath of terrorist attacks in Iraq and Afghanistan. I have seen more than my fair share of death but what I saw after I came out of the woods shocked me to my core.

  While I’m not an FAA investigator by any means, it was clear fairly clear what had happened. Just to the east of the track bed with scattered fragments of the last one-third of the aircraft. I could not determine the size of the aircraft other than it was a large aircraft, the kind that had three row seats on one side and two on the other. It appeared to me that the pilot had the nose up and the first thing to hit the trees was the tail section. There were suitcases, seats (many still with bodies or parts of bodies strapped in) and fragments of fuselage along with the tail section scattered from near the railroad track to this far as I can see into the wooded area directly to my front.

  My next shock was where were the rescue crews and the first responders? It’d been 9 to 10 hours since this plane crashed and as far as I can tell no one had been at the crash site. It seemed like a bad movie set that was way, way over the top with cheap special effects. Small fires still burned here and there, rows of seats filled with bodies slumped over were scattered every which way, some completely intact while others were hard to tell if it was a man or woman. Most had been spared from the fires but several were badly burned. As soon as that registered with me, the smell hit me and I had to swallow hard. The smell of burnt human flesh is unlike anything else on earth and almost nothing is worse.

  I moved into the debris slowly attempting to not disturb anything. From the look of things no one had survived the initial impact, at least not anyone in the tail section. Luggage was scattered everywhere as I move forward. I noticed a couple of the new model Army rucksacks and I made a mental note to check them on my way back. Don’t judge, from the look of things no one on this flight was going to be worrying about checked baggage. And all I had was my daypack, a large ruck would be very helpful to me.

  That was when I spotted the two long pelican cases in the debris. I quickly moved to the cases and pulled them from
the wreckage. Without looking any further, I walked back to the large rucks and adjusted the straps on one and slung it on my back. Picking up the two pelican cases, I moved rapidly back across the railroad tracks and stopped once I got back into the tree line. Dropping the pelican cases I shrugged off the ruck and turned back to the wreckage. Again I know many would think how dare him stealing from the dead, but I really doubt those soldiers would hold it against me for using what they left so I can get back to my family. As of right now those things in those packs and cases meant nothing to the men who had once owned them. Now that my mind was made up I move quickly back to the area that I had found the pelican cases. A quick search revealed several more cases and I knew that these belong to soldiers returning from Afghanistan or Iraq and had been traveling with their weapons. With the current situation it was best that I secure these weapons to keep them from falling into the hands of thugs or criminals who would use them for evil deeds.

  It is amazing how the human mind can rationalize during times of stress. Anyone dealing with situations where they have very little or no control or are going through an experience that involves physical hardship, psychological trauma, and/or deprivation of what is normal can react or lash out in other than normal behavior. As any experienced interrogator can tell you there are a couple of different ways of coping with high levels of stress; emotion-focused (passive avoidance-based coping strategies use denial or disengagement from a problem, or attempts to evade difficult circumstances and the associated emotions) and active problem-focused (approach-based coping strategies use active engagement with stressful problems or circumstances, or attempts to actively problem solve when presented with a difficult situation) but that is a complicated subject for another day. Those whom choose to use passive avoidance-based coping strategies will more than likely become victims during a SHTF situation. Why may you ask is this important? It should be obvious, denial of problems solves nothing.

  Looking one more time at the carnage, I picked up another pair of pelican cases and the remaining rucksack and moved back across the tracks passing the first pair of cases and ruck and carried them back to where I had stashed my pack. I added the cases and pack to my own and returned to get the rest of the cases and the other pack. I was tempted to go back and grab more, but I remembered what one of my sergeants had once told me, the greediest pigs get eaten first, so after looking at the crash site one more time I turned back to my newly acquired gear.

  After returning to my gear I did a quick reconnaissance of the immediate area. As far as I could tell I was all alone with no residences within my view. I wanted to get out of the area as soon as I could so I pulled out the bolt cutters from my tool bag and cut the locks off of all four of the pelican cases. The first case was a surprise and a little disappointing. I would have loved to be able to take it but under my current situation there was just no way I could. It was a SAW, a squad automatic weapon, complete with the cleaning kit and sling. No ammo, which I knew there wouldn’t be, as most soldiers have to turn in all their ammo when traveling on commercial aircraft. I have quite a lot of experience with a SAW, as I had quickly turned in my M16A2 in Somalia and checked out a SAW. I have always hated to be outgunned and given the opportunity, more firepower is better. But the thought of humping a SAW for 1400 miles was a no-go. Plus the thing needed belt fed ammo, yes I know it can use regular M4 magazines but I would have to find government issued metal magazines, as the SAW would quickly eat the top off of P-mags or any other plastic magazine. Additionally being fully auto would result in me being out of ammo five minutes in any kind of firefight. No, not a good idea.

  The next three cases yielded three M4’s with 16 inch barrels, one Beretta 9 mm, and two Sig Sauer P226’s, better yet all of the M4‘s had ACOG optics on them and each of the M4 cases had six empty P-mags. I quickly inspected the three M4’s and chose the best maintained one. The ACOG looked to be in good shape, but I pulled another one off one of the others as a backup. I also pulled the bolt carrier group and charging handle out of one of the other M4’s. You never know when you are going to need a spare part. Between the four cases I was able to put together a pretty good cleaning kit. One of the guys had had a bore snake, which I added to my cleaning kit. Again I gave a quick thanks to the soldiers. I gathered the gear I would not be taking with me, that is the SAW, the two M4’s, the Berretta and secured them back into a couple of the pelican cases. After concealing the cases under the brush pile I turn my attention to the two rucksacks.

  The first thing I did was unstrapping the body armor from the first ruck. It appeared to be in good shape and after slipping into it; it fit fairly well and could be adjusted to fit me if I decided to keep it. It had pouches for eight M4 magazines and four pistol magazines. I shrugged out of it not deciding on whether I wanted to keep it or not. Right this second, not. I didn’t want to get into any type of fight that the advantage of body armor would outweigh the speed I would sacrifice by wearing it. If I were driving no question I would take both vests, but as it was looking like I’d be walking most of the way, and if it comes down to water, food or vest than the vest loses.

  I next opened the outer pouches of the rucks. The first pouch held a pair of shower shoes and a container of foot powder. Tossing the shower shoes, I shook the foot powder container, good mostly full; this went in the keeper pile. Next came a shaving kit I zipped it open and tossed the toothbrush put the toothpaste in the keeper pile, along with the tweezers, floss, small mirror and a couple of new razors, not that I planned on shaving any time soon.

  By the time I had gone though everything in the two rucks, I had a considerable pile stuff to keep, stuff that was nice to have and stuff to toss. The big items I came away with was an almost brand-new modular sleeping system, an almost new Gore-Tex rain suit in large (it might be snug for the first week or so but I figure I was going to grow into it as I would undoubtedly lose some weight over the next few weeks), two pouches, a Tasmanian Tiger chest rig, one wooly pully (that’s a wool sweater for you civilian types) in my size that would come in handy in a month or so when it started getting cold, six relatively new pairs of boots socks, one pair of almost new size 11 jump boots not that I would trade them for my LOWA’s, but a good backup, a watch cap, a heavy pair of winter gloves, two Klean 32 ounce stainless steel water containers, one Life straw bottle that looked and smelled new, one cold steel Tanto knife with an 8 inch blade, one K-bar almost new, a bag of cotton balls with small canister of Vaseline, one of these guys really had his shit together. One e-tool with case, a Gerber multi tool and a total of four MRE’s.

  I sat and went over each piece of equipment to include the rucksacks. After choosing the one I wanted, mainly I chose the one who’s water bladder didn’t smell sour and I slipped the ruck on empty and made all of the adjustments I needed to. I was getting a little nervous having spent the better part of two hours at or near the crash site. Now that I knew what I wanted and didn’t want I stuffed the unwanted stuff into the second ruck and that went under the brush pile besides the pelican cases. I dumped my daypack and begin emptying water bottles into the rucks water bladder. After filling it I dropped in eight water purification tabs just to make sure in case of bladder was contaminated from dirty water. It would not do much for the taste but better that than to begin the trip with a case of the runs. I would give the tabs a couple hours to do their magic before I drink from it. I really am not too worried about it as the bladder smelled like it never was used before. Filling the bladder reminded me that I had not drunk anything all morning since leaving the hotel. I drank both of the 12-ounce bottles left over from filling the bladder. I next moved on to the magazines and tested each one of them. I kept 12 M4 magazines and all six of the Sig Sauer magazines. All of them were clean and appeared to be well maintained. I slid eight of the M4 magazines into the chest rig along with four of the Sig Sauer magazines. Grabbing my bottle of 9mm’s I quickly loaded all four of the mags and slapped one into the Sig Sauer. The Sig went into the drop do
wn leg rig and the rest into my new ruck along with the two empty Sig magazines. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was almost one o’clock and a sense of urgency began to drive my movements. I reloaded the ruck with as much speed as I could combining my original gear with my new gear. From the original tools I kept only a small crescent wrench, a medium flat screwdriver and a Phillips screwdriver, a small pry bar, and the bolt cutters from the tool bag. Once loaded I grabbed the chest rig and slide into it adjusting the waist strap so it would not interfere with my war belt, I dropped my headlamp into the left hand pouch of the chest rig, along with a couple of tampons, a chest seal, one large bandage with blood clot and a tourniquet into the right hand pouch. Jumping up and down a few times to settle the gear in the place, I made a few adjustments and again jumped up and down a couple of more times to settle the gear again and was satisfied with the lack of noise. Grabbing my ruck, I bent over and slid my arms into the straps of the ruck and flipped the ruck over my head. Pulling the shoulder straps snug I then hooked my waist belt and tightened it. Walking around in a small circle and making sure everything was riding okay and not making any real noise. Last by not least I then swung the two-point sling over my head and glanced round one more time. Pausing for just a few seconds I gave a quick thanks for the service of our soldiers and gave them a last nod. Their bad luck but it was a Godsend for me and really upped my chances of getting back to my family in Texas. I had no idea what was next, hopefully finding some ammo for my M4 and Glock. With that thought in my mind I undid the waist belt and slid off the ruck. I returned to the weapons pelican and removed the other Sig and Beretta and secured them in my ruck. Might come in handy for trading and if not I could always cache them along way. With a final adjustment I once again began walking south towards the mall area as it was only place I knew within 60 miles that had everything I needed.