by Jeremy Lock
“Hey, Wait!” James yelled and he chased behind the man.
The man turned into an alley 20 yds in front of James and disappeared from sight. He turned the corner and looked around. The man was nowhere to be seen. Either the man was able to sprint at the speed of an Olympian or the man was hiding. James bet on hiding.
“You can come out. I’m not here to hurt you. I just woke in the hospital and just need some information.” James said hoping for a response but there was none.
“I have water to trade for information.” James added.
The man appeared from a pile of debris and approached him.
”Let me see the water.” the man said.
He was young, probably in his late teens, and dirty. James pulled out the nearly full bottle of water and held it out so the boy could see.
“Pass it over.” The boy said nearly salivating at the sight of the water bottle.
“Information first.” James replied.
“How do I know you’re not gonna bail when I tell you what you want to know?” The boy said.
“How about I leave it in-between us on the ground and when were done ill step away and it’s all yours.” James replied.
“Ok, what you want to know?” the boy asked.
“Who are you?” James asked.
“You can call me “T” the boy said.
“Ok, T. What happened?” James asked.
“What part?” T replied.
“Start from the beginning.” James replied.
“Well, first someone set off a bomb at the army base down the road, woke me right out of my sleep. Then the lights and power all went out, all the cars, cellphones, everything. Then the fire came. The army base started a fire in the woods and none of the fire trucks worked so no one could stop it. Everyone went nuts running out of town stealin food an guns and water all running to get outa town. Shit was crazy man.” T replied.
“You stayed?” James asked.
“Hell yeah, those people left lots of shit behind. I gotta place to live now, and lots of nice shit. Just hard to find water.” T stated.
“You lived on the streets before?” James asked.
“Not anymore, now I gotta whole town.” He said raising his arms and pointing around.
“So where did everyone go?” James asked.
“They all headed to Watertown just west of here.” T replied.
“What town is this?” James asked
“Were in Carthage, NY” he replied.
“So what else is around here?”
“To the North is Canada, South and East is all forest and West, after Watertown, is Lake Ontario.” T stated getting antsy.
“Did anyone go anywhere other than Watertown?” James asked.
“Where else would you go? Dude you got too many quest…” T cut himself short and the deep rumble of motorcycles could be heard in the distance.
“You better go and hide, the Angels will kill you if they find you.” T said as he ran to his water bottle and then took off into the depths of the burned out town.
James moved as quickly as he could back to the alley by the sporting goods store and safety. He listened to the rumble get closer and closer to the town and he took cover behind a pile of fallen block from the front of the store and watched the bikers ride in. There were 8 of them, the typical beard wearing, beer bellied outlaw biker type. They rode freely through the main street in town with weapons clearly visible. Handguns, shotguns and semi-automatic rifle were proudly displayed without a care. James ducked low as the men rode within 20 feet of him and passed the sporting goods shop and then slowing a few hundred feet down the road and parked their bikes. The men spoke briefly then split into two groups, and one headed in his direction. James booked it back around the back of the building and through the propped fire door, securing it behind him. He hid in the darkened storage area between pallets of boxes. He waited until he heard the bikes start but that hadn't happened. Obviously the men were looking for supplies and a large sporting goods store would probably be a prime location. He felt a knot build in his stomach as the thought registered and he realized he was completely unarmed and in the dark. Moments later it happened. The men were there and trying to get in.
“This is the only way in?” one asked.
“Yeah, the whole fucking front of the store caved in, hopefully someone left the damn door open, it’s cold out here.” Replied another.
The men pulled on the emergency door for a moment and then moved on to the rolling garage door. They weren’t trying very hard yet, just using there muscle to try and force the doors. They gave up a moment later and James prayed they would just leave.
“Boom!!” came the report from a gun along with a clang on the emergency door. James nearly soiled his pants as he cringed by the deafening report of the gun. Once his ears recovered he heard cursing from outside.
“Don’t fucking shoot it again you asshole! You fucking shot me!” Yelled one man.
“I didn’t fucking shoot you, you idiot! It bounced of the fuckin door!” said a man.
“Well it still hit me! It’s not worth our fucking time; we’ll come back with a truck and pull the door down next time. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Said another man with finality and soon James heard the rumble of the bikes leaving town.
He breathed a sigh of relief and then decided to get to work. He needed to gear up and get out of dodge before the men came back. He went to the camping section and lit up several propane lanterns and set them across the rear of the store. Using his flashlight he went back to the gun section but was quickly disappointed. Empty. Not a gun, not a bullet nothing. The guns must have been raided when the town evacuated, they weren’t all stupid, although they missed the most important stuff. He found himself a large backpack to fill with gear and a smaller one to carry day to day. He found the knife section and found himself a good quality sheath knife and a multi-tool style pocket knife. He grabbed an extra of each and a sharpening stone and threw them into the pack. He strapped his sleeping bag and pad to the bottom of the pack and threw in the water bottles. He found a high quality cooking set along with utensils and added that along with a magnesium bar and a metal match. Several sections of para-cord went in next and he grabbed nearly 1000’. A pack saw, small hatchet, extra set of clothing and three extra layers of under clothing went in as well. He grabbed a backpacking hammock and several tarps. There were no tents left in the store. After several more stops he went to the archery section. This section was still fairly full and James was very pleased. He looked for a crossbow first, the easiest bow to shoot and simple to sight in, however there were none. James had hunted with bows for years as a child and young adult but it had been a while. He knew the fundamentals, knew how to sight in and tune the bow and also knew how long it took. He pulled down a Diamond Fugitive made by Bowtech. It was a quality brand, although not overly expensive, but it was fast, light and had short axle to axle length which was important when walking through thick brush. He went to the arrow section and found dozens of packs of carbon arrows and grabbed a pre-cut, fletched set and went to work. Setting up the propane stove he melted the glue onto the inserts and set them into the end of the arrow and cooling them in a small cup of water. Within 10 minutes he had a dozen arrows ready to go. He then added target points to the end of 3 and set up a block target in the store. First he used a bow square to tune the bow and then shot a few arrows from 10 yds continuing to tune by seeing how the arrows hit the target. After 20 minutes the arrows were flying true and he could start sighting the bow in. He started at 20 yds setting his top pin. The first was the toughest as you had to compensate for up and down as well as left and right. After 10 minutes of shooting he took a break. His arm was tired and he was getting sloppy. James went and made some more food and ate while relaxing. After a couple hours he was back shooting and had completed sighting in his bow out to 50 yds. He then went and found properly weighted fixed broad heads to attach to the end of his arrows and assembled them
carefully. The broad heads took the small diameter arrow and added razorblades to the point which made for a far more effective and humane kill. He shot several of these at 30 yds to make sure they flew the same as the target points, which they did. The quiver attached to the bow would hold 6 arrows, which he loaded with broad head equipped arrows. He loaded an addition dozen arrows into his backpack along with extra broad heads and replacement blades into the backpack. He was almost ready to survive out in the wild, a few more important items and life would be easy.
He had survived in worse places, far worse than the mountains of upstate NY. Sure it would be cold and there would be snow but it certainly wasn’t the jungles of Columbia or the desert of Afghanistan. The thought of those places still brought chills to his body and a knot to his stomach. This wouldn’t be survival; this was just living off the grid. Hell it might even be enjoyable getting away from people for a while. The mindless masses walking around without a care in the world not knowing or understanding the depths that some men had gone to protect them from evil around the world. James had spent many years with the military and seen many terrible things and it always bothered him when he came back to the States and saw the everyday people walking around without a thought for the men and women dying overseas for their freedom. Then these same people would go and vote away their freedom to support some feel good candidate who talked a good game. And then there was no longer a work ethic. People didn’t have the drive to provide for themselves and their families. Social programs were there and people lived well. They had food, homes and even cellphones all provided by “the government.” People didn’t know of didn’t care that they were taking money away from those who worked hard and were successful and gave them to slugs of society or the lazy. Sure some of these people truly needed assistance but 47% of the population receiving government benefits and even fewer paying taxes was out of control. The country was willingly voting itself into socialism because “it was the right thing to do.” When had it become ok to be on government assistance? When had that social stigma to be embarrassed to be on food stamps gone away? What happened to the society that he had grown up in? His country was going down the shitter before this mess anyways, so now it had just been helped along. The people who had been carefree citizens of the greatest country in the world were now cold, hungry and alone fighting off each other for the basics of life’s necessities. Now the horrors of war would come to all these people, and most of them would not survive.
One more trip though the store to look for a few more items, a couple hours sleep, and then he would find himself an isolated area away from people and hold up for as long as it takes. He grabbed himself a camp shower, several packs of long burning candles, several bottles of water purification tablets and good map of the area, topped off his first aid items and added a sewing kit. He walked through the archery section one last time and looked up at a simple item hanging on the rack. There were several similar items but this one he had missed before. It was a 3 piece collapsible long bow. His compound bow would be great for a long time but eventually it would break down or he would break all of his arrows. He couldn’t make arrows for the compound bow, wooden arrows would explode under the tremendous power it generated, but the long bow would last forever. He could make strings for it, build arrows for it, it would be true long term survival. He loaded it in his pack along with a dozen aluminum shaft arrows for it and broad heads. They also had several packs of metal broad heads that could be glued to a wooden arrow. He loaded them up as well as arrow fletching and decided he was done. He packed up his remaining food and water, strapped his heavy parka to the back of his pack and hefted it. It was heavy, damn heavy. He had carried worse in his day and decided he would get used to it, there was nothing in the pack he really wanted to part with.
He opened the emergency door and looked into the darkness; it had to be the middle of the night. He didn’t have a watch, had no need for a watch and didn’t really care. He checked the immediate area outside the door with his flashlight, which he had several sets of extra batteries for, and after determining it was clear he stepped out into the darkness securing the emergency door behind him. He walked across the alleyway and sat behind a dumpster closing his eyes and waiting. He needed his night vision to work as best as possible and needed his eyes to adjust. As he sat there he thought of a story his instructor had told them way back in SERE training, a story he still told his students. He and his classmates had been in the front leaning rest position (upward pushup position) for at least 30 minutes with their fully loaded gear packs on and their arms were all getting shaky and his instructor asked them the strangest question.
“Why did pirates wear eye patches?” the instructor screamed in one man’s face.
Several other men actually chuckled at the question but the man who was being asked just looked at the instructor without an answer.
“Why did pirates wear eye patches?!” the man bellowed again to the next man in line.
“Sir! To look tough, sir!” the man yelled back with half a chuckle.
“Ready! Exercise!” the Instructor yelled and the class began pushing out 4 count pushups.
“Do any of you fucking morons know why pirates wore eye patches?!” the instructor bellowed as the men pushed.
“I guess none of you really do have a fucking clue! You are the biggest waste of fucking time I have ever had in my 12 years of instructing!” The instructor continued.
“We’ll let me spell it out for you little ladies! They didn’t wear eye patches to look tough, they didn’t wear them cause they lost an eye. These pirates were brilliant, way fucking smarter then you useless wastes of DNA! They wore them to protect their night vision!” The instructor bellowed as the ever weakening trainees pushed on in silence.
“They knew that they would have to fight above and below decks when they fought their enemies so the smart ones wore an eye patch. They would have one eye they worked well above deck but they could move the eye patch and have an eye ready to see in the darkness below decks! These men were brilliant! You fucking ladies aren’t even worthy of such information, but some cock-sucking officer believes you ladies are the best we have to work with! A sad fucking day for this country if you ask me!” the instructor bellowed.
The memories brought James back to happier time in his life, when the world still looked whole and he felt he could make a difference. James smiled as he hefted the heavy pack and trudged on, he was actually looking forward to getting out in the bush and away from the troubles of the world.
He marched through the town keeping a low profile and listening to the strange silence of a dead city. He was heading north; he wanted to see Fort Drum for himself. He knew he was heading there for a reason, he had some kind of information he needed to pass along but he couldn’t remember a damn thing. He walked on thinking of his old friend, Maj. Walter Jacobs, of the 10 Mountain Division from a very bad time not so many years ago. It was early in the war in Afghanistan and James was stationed with the Air Force Para-rescue. CWO James Mathison, a crew chief and rescue specialist had spent many of his past years before the war working with the 160 Special Operations Aviation Regiment (SOAR) as a rescue specialist for special operations around the world. Now he was stationed in Afghanistan working true Search and Rescue Operations for downed aircraft and stranded units, not an uncommon occurrence due to the extreme altitude of the harsh mountains. Once an Air Force Security Forces Sniper, James had moved into Para-Rescue as they were some of the toughest and craziest soldiers in all of the Armed Forces. Not nearly as acclaimed or well-known as the Navy Seals or Army Delta Force but the Para-Rescue soldiers were Elite Special Forces Soldiers who many times went out to save their brother Special Forces soldiers. It was August 2003 in the Hindu-Kush when James’ unit was sent in to pick up a platoon of men from the 10 Mountain division who were under attack with wounded. Their transport came in and picked up their wounded and most of the men, however 3 men were left behind and were now in deep shit
. James’ Blackhawk circled the area and James had taken out 3 enemy soldiers with sniper fire before they made their landing approach. Two more passes and no movement and James gave the all clear. As they neared the ground movement to his left drew his attention and he brought his weapon on target, but not before the smoke trail of an RPG-7 rocket filled his scope. It was fired from only 60 yds. away and even with his calls to evade the Blackhawk was struck in the main rotor, blowing a blade completely off. The bird was still 15 feet off the ground when it was hit and James was thrown out into the rocky floor below. The rest of his crew did not survive the fiery crash. James had multiple lacerations and was pretty banged up but was able to make contact with the three 10 Mountain Soldiers. Within minutes they were again in a firefight and the lost all forms of communication. The group spent the next three weeks moving its way down the mountains, trying to survive without food and water and trying to avoid enemy contact. In the end they were eventually rescued having killed 68 Taliban soldiers between them however two men had been lost. CWO James Mathison and 1 LT Walter Jacobs were the only survivors. They had a tight bond even after James had left the service and still spoke often. James needed to check on his old friend.