by A. American
In the Before, there were numerous books, websites, YouTube channels and other outlets dedicated to bushcraft and primitive skills. I was a part of that community as well. But I also realized there were a lot of manmade environments out there. Even in the post-apocalyptic world, such as we’re living in now, there would be a whole lot of it left behind that could be useful to the savvy survivor. Fortunately, we were not living such a hardscrabble life and not relying on trapping rodents in grocery store stockrooms.
But, it made me think of the countless posts on forums. The numerous online articles, as well as those in magazines that promoted the idea of bugging out to the wilderness when the SHTF. But seldom was there one talking about surviving in the urban landscape; and even those that were, I thought, approached it from the wrong angle.
I often thought about surviving in an urban area. This grocery store, for example, could be a lifesaver to the cunning survivor. The roof of this store was probably holding numerous pockets of fresh water from the recent rains. Not to mention, it was also where the air handling units were, and they were probably large enough to use as a shelter. Utilizing the roof access ladder inside the stockroom, you could get to the roof and have water and shelter. A stove could be fashioned to keep a fire above what I’m sure was a rubber membrane roof. It could offer shelter, water and security. But it could also be a trap with only one access and exit, pros and cons.
We found a stack of bags still in their boxes. We piled them onto the cart and rolled them to the open door. “I’ll go get the truck,” Aric said as he turned and headed for the front of the store.
“I’ll go with you. We should stay together. Safer that way.”
He nodded. “Good idea.”
As we walked out to the doors, I saw someone looking through the truck. Aric saw him as well and I grabbed his arm. “Let’s just wait a minute and see if he’s alone.”
The man sat in the driver’s seat of the truck. He was going through the glovebox, pulling the visors down and checking them. Finding nothing, he sat there for a minute looking around. Then he got out and lifted the seat to inspect behind it. That was when I told Aric to move. We’d not seen another person, and while his head was buried behind the seat, we quickly moved out the door.
With our weapons shouldered we stepped wide around the truck, getting a clear view of him. A rifle was leaning against the side of the truck. I hoped he didn’t reach for it. Satisfied with his inspection behind the seat and coming up empty-handed, he stood up and flipped the seat back. Then he saw us. The look on his face said it all. We had the drop on him and he knew it.
“Step away from the truck,” Aric said.
“And don’t think about reaching for that rifle,” I added.
He half raised his hands and stepped back. “Easy, fellas. I didn’t mean no harm.”
“Maybe not,” Aric replied.
“But I would imagine that if the keys were in that thing, we’d be walking home,” I said.
The man shrugged. “I was just checking it out.” He nodded at me, “You the Sheriff?” He asked.
I nodded, “I am. Now keep backing up. You got any other weapons on you?”
“I have a pistol.”
Aric and I both moved in behind the truck. “Turn around and put your hands on your head,” Aric said. He did as instructed and Aric looked at me, “Cover me and I’ll go get it.”
I nodded and called out, “Don’t move and there won’t be any trouble. He’s going to come get that pistol off you. We’ll give it back when we leave.”
The man half turned his head and asked, “You promise?”
“I do, now face away.” Again, he did as instructed.
Aric moved quickly to him. He pushed his carbine around to his back to hang from the sling, and drew his pistol. Keeping it close to his body, I heard him ask, “Where is it?”
The man dipped his chin, “It’s in my waistband.”
Aric reached around him and removed what turned out to be a snub-nosed revolver, stuffing it into a cargo pocket. Using his free hand, he did a quick pat down on the man before looking over his shoulder and announcing, “He’s clean now.” I relaxed and stepped out from behind the truck.
The man looked over his shoulder and asked, “Can I put my hands down now?”
“Yeah. You’re good,” Aric replied as he holstered his pistol.
“What are you guys doing?” The man asked.
“We’re getting grocery bags,” Aric replied.
“What in the hell for?”
“We’re putting together food bags,” I replied as I walked up. “We’ll be giving them out tomorrow.”
“Food? Where’d you get enough food you can give it away?”
“Aid is starting to come in from around the world. The Army is distributing it. We’re putting together bags to make it easier to hand out.”
“Where are you going to be doing that?”
“Tomorrow in Eustis, at the armory,” Aric replied.
The man scratched at his scruffy face. His clothes had a sheen of grime on them and his skin was oily looking. Hygiene was not a high priority for him. His shoes were tattered and I could see his sockless feet through them. “We’ve got shoes too,” I said.
He looked down. “That would be nice.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Alex Mackinnon,” he took off his hat and mopped his forehead with a filthy rag. “I was down here for an IT conference. I’m from Canada.”
Aric whistled. “Damn. That would suck. From what we hear, most of Canada is fine.”
Alex nodded his lament. “I figured. No one wants to do anything to Canada. We’re almost like Switzerland. And here I am, stuck in hell. And this damn heat!”
The scattered clouds from the morning had burned off and the sun was now blazing high in the sky. It was burning off the rain from the previous several days. You could virtually see the humidity in the air. Looking out across the parking lot, steam rose from the puddles. It was going to be miserable.
“Where’d you get the guns?” Aric asked.
“I acquired them over time. America is not a place to go unarmed. Especially now.”
“Acquired them, huh?”
“I didn’t hurt anyone to get them. This country is overflowing with guns. I don’t have many bullets though, so I try real hard not to use them. Not to mention, I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Well, Alex,” I said. “We’re going to drive around back and load up the bags we have. Then we’ll come back and give your guns back.”
He nodded. “Fine by me.” He pointed to the covered entry of the store. “I’ll be waiting up there. In the shade.”
Aric ran in and grabbed the cases of bags we’d left by the front door as I took Alex’s guns and put them in the cab of the truck. We rode around back and loaded all the cases from the cart into the bed of the truck. We found Alex sitting under the entry when we returned. He stood up and walked out to the truck. Aric had already unloaded his guns. The rifle was a Ruger 10/22 with only four rounds in the rotary magazine. The Taurus revolver had two .38 special rounds in the cylinder. I felt bad for Alex, wandering this world with only six bullets.
We handed him the guns back. I told him I’d put his ammo on the curb and asked he not load them until we were completely out of sight. He laughed, “I’m not about to try and shoot it out with you two. You’ve got more ammo in that rifle than I’ve ever seen.”
I laughed, “I appreciate that. Come to the armory in Eustis tomorrow and we’ll give you some food. What size shoes do you wear?”
He looked down at the tattered loafers on his feet and replied, “Nine and a half.”
“I’ll bring you a pair of shoes too. You going to try and make it back to Canada?”
The pain on his face was obvious. “There’s no way that will happen. It’s a couple thousand miles and I’ve only managed a couple hundred so far. I was in Miami when all this started.”
Aric snorted, “Shit, if you made it out of Miami alive, then there’s nothing to stop you from making it back to the Great White North.”
Alex smiled halfheartedly. “Maybe. But finding enough food is really hard. Plus, I have to hide every night to try and sleep. I’ve had some bad experiences. I was beat unconscious twice, everything I had was stolen, and it wasn’t much. I’ve learned the hard way not to trust anyone.”
“Alright, Alex, we’ll see you in town tomorrow,” I said as I got back in the truck.
As we pulled away, Alex stood in the sun watching us go. I imagined he was thinking of how that truck could easily transport him to Canada. If he could get gas for it, which he wouldn’t be able to. So, in reality, all it would do is make him a target for others that weren’t thinking it all the way through either.
“I feel bad for the poor guy,” Aric said as he drove us back towards Altoona. “Imagine coming from a country where things are probably still normal and being caught here in this shit.”
“I would imagine there are millions of folks like that.”
“Never really thought about it. But you’re probably right.”
As we were approaching Umatilla, I pointed to a couple of Hummers sitting on the side of the road and told Aric to pull over. There were three Guardsmen standing under the shade of a large oak tree on the side of the road. Stopping the truck, I walked over to a power pole and looked up. Terry, the engineer, was on it towards the top. He’d used climbing hooks to get up there and was cutting a sideline loose from the mainline.
Scott was under the pole acting as his groundman. I looked around and asked, “Where’s Baker?”
Scott glanced up at Terry before answering. “She’s over at a SECO yard trying to get a bucket truck running. They took a couple of mechanics with them. Damn thing won’t start.”
“Having the truck would be helpful,” I replied.
“You’re damn right it would be! I got spoiled with it.” Terry shouted down from the top of the pole.
We stepped back as he unhooked his belt from around the pole and started to climb down. This was always the hardest part. Getting up was far easier. Getting down had its own unique problems. Improperly setting a hook on the way down would lead to a fall, as you didn’t know it wasn’t good until it cut out. At least going up, the other hook would still be set, and you could test your weight on the next one. Most falls happened while coming down.
He was breathing hard and sweating like a seeing-eye dog at a Korean barbeque when he got to the ground. “It’s hotter’n a cookout in hell in July up there!” He exclaimed.
I laughed. “That’s pretty damn hot. How goes the work?”
He pointed up the pole. “One down. Several hundred to go.”
“He’s just pissed it’s his turn to climb today,” Scott said. “There aren’t that many more we need to cut. We may be able to have power into Eustis next week.”
“No shit?” Aric blurted.
“Yeah. We’re going to get power to the armory and the courthouse for now, but that’s it,” Scott said.
“That’s plenty for now. We’ll be able to move the clinic out of those tents and into the courthouse building as well,” I said. “Now, for the important question. What’s it going to take to get it out to us?”
“That’ll take a while longer. But we’ll get there. It’s a long run of wire that will need to be cut free,” Terry said.
“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” Aric replied.
“Got some good news as well,” I said. The two engineers looked at me expectantly. “We went up to Eglin and picked up an ass-load of food.”
“What?” Terry asked.
“You went all the way to Eglin Air Force Base?” Scott asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. We took a couple of trucks and brought a load back. Ammo too.”
“What kind of food did you get?” Terry asked.
“All kinds of stuff,” Aric replied.
“Flour, rice, canned meat and vegetables. There’s hygiene stuff. All kinds of shit,” I added.
“Where the hell did all that come from?” Terry asked.
“According to the Army, it’s coming from Europe, Canada and Australia.”
“Damn. It’s about time,” Terry said. “Me and Scott were talking about that. Wondering when we’d start to see the international community helping us.”
“Yeah,” Scott added. “We sure as shit did it long enough. It’s about time those countries helped us out a bit.”
“Well, it’s starting to come in. We’ll be bringing a bunch of it to town tomorrow.”
“Sheffield know about this?” Scott asked.
I shook my head. “No. We didn’t tell him about it. We also got a load of fuel. Between that and the ammo, he should be happy.”
Aric snickered, “You forgot about the Stryker.”
“You got a Stryker too!” Terry shouted.
“Yeah, the one with the cannon on it,” Aric replied with a laugh.
“Sheffield will definitely like that,” Scott added.
“I don’t think it’s for him,” I replied. “I think the old man is going to keep it. He said he had something for Sheffield if he showed his ass. Not sure what he meant by that, but he has no plans of giving up the tank.”
Scott let out a whistle. “That’s going to go over like a fart in church.”
I shrugged. “I don’t much give a shit. It’s between him and the old man. We’re dealing with the food, making up bags to hand out.”
“We’ll be sure to be in town tomorrow for the show,” Terry said.
“Alright, guys. We’re going to head to the ranch. Y’all need anything?” I asked.
“Naw, we’re good. Thanks,” Scott replied.
“Alright, we’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Aric and I got back in the truck and made the quick trip back to the ranch. As we passed the Umatilla market, there was a bit of a crowd gathered. It looked as though word was starting to spread about the food. I was sure it was spreading like wildfire. We’d have to be careful with this as it could get out of hand fast.
When we got back, the progress that had been made was impressive. There were piles of bags tied up and waiting. We unloaded the bags we’d collected from Publix and they were immediately put to use. A couple of feed scoops had been found and cleaned and were being used to scoop the flour, beans and rice into a bag that would be tied up and dropped into another bag.
There was an assembly line of sorts where the bags would be passed from person to person and additional items were added. There was a separate line putting together bags with hygiene products. It was efficient and getting done quickly. Danny and Thad were putting the bags in the back of the truck with the help of some of the Guardsmen.
Everyone was upbeat and in good spirits, with an air of excitement to the whole process. Aric wandered over to help Fred, who was putting together bags for babies and mothers. As she was dropping a pack of diapers into a bag, she said, “We need to get some of these too. We’re going to need them.”
Mel wasn’t far from her and replied, “Don’t worry about those. I have a bunch of cloth diapers that I used for the girls.”
Fred looked up, “That would be great. I know we won’t have enough of these. It’s so sweet of you.”
Mel stood up and wiped her forehead with the back of her gloved hand, “They’re not doing me any good. You may as well use them.”
With this process well under way with plenty of help, I told Mel I was going to work on another project. There was plenty that needed to be done. I stopped by the water
keg and got a drink. It was so hot out, you needed water, and this was ice cold. It hurt my teeth, but I relished it and drank until I couldn’t hold anymore. I thought about Alex, who’d we met earlier. I could only imagine what this heat was like for him. I was born in it and hated it, but at least I was accustomed to dealing with it.
And it was the heat that was on my mind. I took the little red truck to the house. It still had the lenses from the light fixtures in the bed and I needed them for my project. I pulled around behind the house and parked by the shop and carried a couple of the lenses inside. The girls had collected bags and bags of two-liter bottles. I went around to the front of the house and grabbed one and carried it back.
The lenses were almost two-foot by four-foot. I went to the house and measured one of the windows, as this would fit into the bottom open half. With that measurement in hand, I went to the shop to cut one down. The lens would sit on its side, giving me a two-foot-high area to work with.
I took my skill saw and removed the blade, turned it around backwards, and put it back on. This was a way to cut the plastic without it shattering when the teeth hit it. After cutting the lens down, I measured a bottle and decided to have six across and four down, twenty-four bottles per lens. I could put one more on either side, but I wanted to make as many units as possible. The neck of each bottle was about 7/8ths of an inch, which was perfect because I had a paddle bit that could drill the holes.
Using a framing square, I laid out the grid on the lens for the holes and drilled one to make sure it would fit. The bottle fit through easily and I proceeded to drill the rest of them out. With the lens done, it was time to prepare the bottles. I needed to cut the bottom off of them; and having so many to do, I needed an easy way to do it.
I took a couple pieces of scrap two-by-four I found under the bench and screwed them together at a right angle. Then I decided how long I wanted the bottles to be and made a mark on the longer of the two pieces. Taking a utility razor blade, I hammered it into the wood at the mark. Now, all I had to do was lay the bottle into the L created by the boards, push it against the blade until it pierced the bottle, and rotate it to cut the bottom off. It was fast and made a perfect cut.