Lines in the Sand_Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction

by Bobby Akart

  “I could see that,” interrupted Major. “You’re a pretty good listener.”

  “Well, I reckon I was a little too good. I would get personally involved in their troubles. I’d sit down and counsel mothers on how to deal with their kids. I’d offer to mediate disputes between business partners. Heck, I even talked a young girl out of getting an abortion and found her a family that would pay for the medical bills as well as provide her baby a good home.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Major, who was encouraging Preacher to continue, as it seemed to weigh heavily on his friend’s mind. Major didn’t want the conversation to turn into an interrogation.

  “One day, a little girl, just nine years old, came into my office crying after Sunday school. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, but begged me to let her wait in the office until her mother came for her after my sermon.

  “I didn’t press her for answers and conducted the service. As I stood at the front of the church wishing everyone a blessed day, you know, I pulled her mother aside and told her about what had happened. She and the daughter always came to church alone. Her husband, the child’s stepfather, never attended with them.”

  The white fencing of Armstrong Ranch came into view, so Major veered his horse to the left to approach the closest gate. He squinted his eyes and saw a car parked inside the fence where one of the hands stood guard.

  “Did the mother offer any explanation?” asked Major.

  “Nah, but a look of fear came over her face as she ran toward my office to retrieve her daughter. Anyway, a couple of Sundays passed and they didn’t return to church. The whole thing gnawed at me for those couple of weeks, so finally, one evenin’, I drove out to their farm just south of town.”

  “How’d that go?”

  Preacher lowered his head and exhaled. “Not well, boss. Not well at all.”

  “Preach, you don’t need to go back there if you don’t want to,” started Major, who felt profound sorrow for his troubled friend.

  “No, I need to tell you because I’ve been livin’ this lie for too long. Major, what happened that night was my day of infamy.”

  “Okay, go on,” encouraged Major.

  “I found the front door open and the mother lying on the floor with blood coming out of a gash in her forehead. She wasn’t dead, just knocked unconscious. I heard a grunting sound coming from down the hallway, so I investigated. What I saw sickened me. The animal had tied the child to the bed and was—”

  Preacher stopped his horse, and tears began to stream down his face. He wiped them away, smearing the dusty grime across his cheeks. He sniffled and tried to gain his composure.

  “Preach, seriously, we don’t need—” said Major as he attempted to console his distraught friend. He reached his arm out to touch Preacher’s, but he shook his head no.

  “Major, I lost it. I was out of my mind angry at what was happening to this innocent child. I didn’t turn to God for guidance. I grabbed a table lamp and cracked the man’s skull with it. He fell off the girl and rolled onto the floor.

  “What happened next didn’t come back to me until days later. The ceramic lamp broke into several shards of sharp glass. I took a piece and bludgeoned that child rapist over and over and over again. Major, I was insanely mad. I left his face unrecognizable. What I did to him was sadistic and against everything the Bible had taught me.”

  Major looked Preacher in the eye. “He had it comin’.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’ve justified killin’ that beast over the years. Coverin’ it up was easy too. The mother regained consciousness and found me on my knees, praying for forgiveness. After tending to that sweet child, she hugged and thanked me. She then took charge. After getting her daughter settled in her bedroom, we cleaned up the mess together. I got away with committing murder.”

  Major had devoted his life to law enforcement as a Texas Ranger, just like his family had done before him. He knew what murderers looked like. The man who raped that little girl had murdered her soul when he did. What Preacher did was act as judge and executioner. In Major’s mind, there was a difference.

  “My friend, God puts us in situations like those for a reason. Most likely, you saved two lives on that night and maybe more down the road. Sometimes, the only way we can defeat evil is to attack it head-on, without hesitation. In my eyes, and in the eyes of that mother and child, you are a hero. And no matter what, you will always be a preacher. Don’t give up on God because of one day of infamy, right?”

  Preacher smiled and nodded. He and Major grabbed hands and squeezed one another for strength. Major helped Preacher through this difficult conversation knowing full well his old friend might have to help him through one later.

  Chapter 35

  December 7

  Gila National Forest

  Reserve, New Mexico

  The weather had changed dramatically as Duncan and Sook entered the Gila National Forest. They had traveled without incident through the remainder of Arizona, finding abandoned buildings to sleep in. The food provided to them by Banda and his friends had run out, and Duncan was beginning to get concerned. Their route took them through the heart of Gila, which meant very few dwellings or opportunities to forage, and now the much colder weather posed additional risks.

  Duncan’s survival training was designed for Middle Eastern climates, as the conflicts in Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan had continued during his early years in the military. However, his transition to black-ops work for the CIA took him all over the world, so he’d studied survival techniques in all circumstances, including heavily forested, high-altitude areas like Gila.

  Basic survival skills didn’t change based upon location or climate. The first step was to adopt a survival mindset. More than any skill he learned, Duncan recognized a strong desire to live and the establishment of a plan were most important. Surviving a life-threatening situation required a willingness to sacrifice and suffer pain and mental anguish in order to avoid death.

  Duncan learned the SPEAR approach to adopting a survival plan of action—Stop, Plan, Execute, Assess and Re-evaluate. By creating a systematic approach to any survival situation, Duncan was constantly reaffirming his desire to live, as well as providing himself encouragement while blocking out negative thoughts or panic.

  After adopting a survival frame of mind, certain basics applied. In extreme weather, a person could only survive three hours without adequate shelter. In the deserts of the Middle East, the goal was to avoid heat stroke, so planning required shelter to avoid the heat and thus minimize water loss. In the high mountains of the Rockies, for example, one would avoid hypothermia, so the goal was to minimize heat loss.

  Thereafter, your body would dictate your ability to survive. The human body was composed of seventy-eight percent water. Going three days without proper hydration results in organ failure due to dehydration and then death. Oftentimes, in a fit of desperation to rehydrate, many turn to any water source they discover. The water-borne pathogens, metals, and minerals found in these water sources, if untreated, could cause dysentery. This disease exacerbates dehydration and thus hastens death.

  Having left the dusty flatlands of Arizona, the dense forest was a relief. The lack of industrial plants adding to the perils of the water gave Duncan confidence that their horses could drink freely, as could he and Sook.

  The next challenge for them would be finding shelter for their first night in this new environment. Half of their travels across New Mexico would involve a significant increase in elevation before they dropped down toward the plains and relative flatland of the eastern part of the state. At that point, he’d be able to smell and taste Texas.

  Flurries began to float through the air, and Duncan could feel the moisture content of the atmosphere pick up. Their tarp and supplies found at the meteor crater attraction would not be enough to protect them from plunging temperatures.

  As they continued to move forward, Duncan noticed a sign that read Reserve Ranger District, three
miles.

  “Sook, we must find a place soon. I believe the snow will come next.”

  “This is like home,” she added. “Mountains and forest. Snow and cold.”

  Duncan chuckled as he urged his horse up the steep incline. He wondered how long it would take Sook to stop referring to Sinmi-do and North Korea as home. Then a wave of sadness overtook him. If the DPRK had fired nuclear weapons at the U.S., he was sure the U.S. had rained hellfire upon their entire country. The likelihood of Sook’s family surviving that were slim.

  They approached a small roadside picnic area, where a truck towing a small camper had parked. Duncan held his hand up to instruct Sook to stop. He quickly dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Sook. He wanted to approach the camper on foot, and cautiously. The two of them on horseback made for a large desirable target.

  Sook hung back as Duncan moved into the forest, taking advantage of the trees to conceal his approach. A whiff of smoke reached his nostrils, which raised him into a heightened state of awareness. Carefully, with his rifle ready, he moved from pine tree to pine tree, using their aged trunks as cover. The smell of something burning increased, and he was sure the campers were cooking on an open fire.

  The flurries turned to big, fat flakes, causing Duncan to gain a sense of urgency. They needed to find shelter soon. He approached the clearing as a gust of wind forced the smell toward him. Duncan grimaced and covered his mouth and nose. He’d smelled death many times, but burnt flesh was especially rancid and unmistakable.

  He scanned the perimeter of the small picnic area and the vehicle that obscured its view from the road. A smoldering campfire produced a small amount of smoke as the body that lay across it starved the flames of oxygen.

  The doors to the pickup truck and the retro-style camper towed behind it had been left open. Debris was scattered about the gravel beneath the rig. With the snow falling heavier now, Duncan didn’t need to waste time clearing the area.

  Whoever had murdered the man lying facedown in the fire had most likely left after looting the man’s belongings. Also, he didn’t want Sook to see the very dark side of humanity that existed in America, just like it did in North Korea. People could be sadistic and cruel to one another regardless of nationality. He hoped to shield Sook from that undeniable truth in her new home.

  Duncan made his way back to the road and jogged on the wet shoulder until he reached Sook. She was waiting dutifully with his horse, occasionally glancing behind her to scan for threats.

  “Is it safe?” she asked in a hushed tone when Duncan arrived.

  He climbed on his horse and shook his head. He hoped the wind didn’t draw the stench onto the road.

  “C’mon,” said Duncan with a sigh. He looked to the darkening sky and allowed the white flakes to land on his face. The cold, moist snow snapped him out of his funk. “Let’s see if we’ll have better luck at the ranger station.”

  Several minutes later, they found the gates to the Reserve, New Mexico, ranger station. They were locked with a heavy link chain and a padlock. Undeterred, the two riders navigated on a trail that led from the road into the woods before coming out onto the gravel road a few hundred yards up the hill.

  Duncan was leery of staying anywhere near the murderous scene he’d just encountered. Based upon the smoldering fire, the man had most likely been killed the night before. Whoever was responsible might have gone to the ranger station next.

  As they rode around a bend in the driveway leading up the hill, he saw two vehicles parked in front of the single-story block and brick building. Once again, out of precaution, he went ahead on foot, holding Sook back for her safety.

  As Duncan quickly moved around the building, he was pleased to see there wasn’t any indication of foul play, as he’d seen at the campsite. The doors and windows were locked, but also intact. It was quiet in the woods, and he took a chance to bang on the door.

  He pounded it with his fist three times. “Is anyone here? We’re looking for a place to sleep for the night. That’s all.”

  Then he focused his concentration on any sounds emanating from the building. There were closed blinds obscuring his view of the interior, and he watched to see if any of them moved.

  Nothing.

  Duncan returned to the rear entry of the building and found a fist-sized river rock, which was used as a door stop. He heaved it through the glass of the door and then listened for a reaction inside.

  Still quiet.

  He entered the building, which had a very simple layout. The foyer opened up into an open space featuring maps and images of the Gila National Forest. There were two small offices, which contained desks and seating. A small kitchen with an adjacent bathroom completed the twelve-hundred-square-foot facility.

  It wasn’t going to yield much in the way of supplies, but it would shelter them from the elements. Pleased with that, he opened the front door to retrieve Sook. What he found surprised him.

  Chapter 36

  December 7

  Gila National Forest

  Reserve, New Mexico

  Duncan had to make a decision. A hundred and fifty pounds of food stood before him, completely unaware that he’d opened the door. The deer was beautiful, standing in the falling snow, looking in Sook’s direction. Shooting the beautiful animal would not be easy for Duncan. Frankly, as he’d grown older, he’d rather shoot an enemy than a deer. However, they were out of food, and the ranger station didn’t appear to provide them any options.

  There was another consideration that his mind instantly processed as he raised his rifle. The retort from the Barrett would echo throughout the forest. If the killer of the camper down the road was still around, they might descend upon the ranger station. Then again, echoes had a way of distorting sound and its source. In the wilderness, pinpointing the exact location of the gunfire would be difficult.

  Duncan steadied his aim, focusing on the deer’s neck. He knew from his hunting days as a teen, there were several considerations when choosing what part of the deer to shoot. Every hunter hopes for a single kill shot. Despite the act of killing itself, the majority of hunters don’t want the animal to suffer unnecessarily.

  He gently squeezed the trigger.

  At this relatively close range for a sniper of Duncan’s caliber, his bullet easily found the mark and took down the deer quickly and efficiently. As he walked through the doorway onto the covered porch, he caught a glimpse of Sook moving through the woods.

  To her credit, she didn’t shout to Duncan. She chose to determine the cause of the gunfire rather than expose herself to danger. Duncan wondered whether children growing up in North Korea were wired differently than American kids. Were they more attuned to danger and the risks of confronting anyone with a weapon?

  Duncan met her halfway. “It’s okay. I shot a deer. The building is safe.”

  Sook hugged him, and then she looked over his shoulder. “A deer,” she muttered. “We no longer have them in the North. They were killed for food for the parliament members. Now they are all gone.”

  Duncan took her by the arm and guided her away from the dead animal. They needed to retrieve their horses, and then he’d set about field dressing the deer.

  An hour later, the horses were secured in a utility fenced area behind the building, with buckets of fresh water from a nearby stream. The snow was heavier now, so Duncan pulled the tarp over the space and tied it down with paracord. Next, they set about the task of draining the deer.

  Using a half-inch nylon rope he found in a closet, Duncan tied the deer up by its hind legs. Then he threw the rope over the rafters of the front porch and pulled the deer into the air before tying off the rope. It was a struggle for him to hoist the heavy animal off the ground, but Sook grabbed the deer around the waist and gave her best effort to assist. Between the two of them, the deer now hung from the rafters in a perfect position to be gutted.

  “Sook, this can be messy and bloody. You can go inside now if you want.”

  �
�No, I want to help and learn. I have seen death, remember?”

  Their encounter with the North Korean patrol boat flashed through Duncan’s mind. Sook had been unfazed by the violence.

  Duncan pulled his knife from its sheath and slowly spread the fur on the deer’s stomach. He ran his forefinger along the incision point to mentally mark the spot to make his cut.

  “You start at the bottom at the neck,” he began to explain. He wasn’t sure how much of the explanation Sook would understand, but he decided to stop underestimating her. Every step of the way, she’d surprised him. “I am cutting deep enough to get through the skin starting at the base of the neck. Blood will trickle out slowly at first.”

  Duncan looked at her again and decided to proceed without a warning. This part of the process was grisly. He began to cut through the animal’s muscle and cartilage around the neck. He looked to Sook, who continued to shine the light of a small lantern they’d found on the process. She was unfazed.

  “When I was in medical training, we dissected small animals,” she said unexpectedly. “This was my favorite part of training. I could be a surgeon one day.”

  Duncan smiled. “What I am doing is like surgery. It requires a process of cutting through skin, then to muscle, through the ribs, and then finally the organs. This next part is the most difficult. I have to cut through the stomach muscles and the rib cage. Are you ready?”

  She nodded her head and continued to focus her gaze on the deer’s carcass.

  Duncan took a deep breath and reached into the body of the deer. He was now covered in blood, which made him realize he’d have to switch to his backup sweatshirt with the Meteor Crater logo plastered across the front. Or I could ride back to Texas covered in blood. That would scare the bad guys away.

  “After you cut through the belly muscle, you have to pry your knife between the ribs like this,” said Duncan as he maneuvered the knife back and forth with a prying motion, causing the rib cage to break.