Lines in the Sand: Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction (The Lone Star Series Book 3)

by Bobby Akart

  After taking a moment to relax, the two visitors, mining hats fully illuminated, began to search the rest of the building for items of use. Duncan focused on the administrative offices and the building maintenance department located down the hall from the eighty-seat movie theater.

  The offices didn’t yield much except for some small notepads, pens, and several bottles of hand sanitizer. The building’s maintenance department was a different story, as it provided them quite a few things.

  First, Duncan found two large and two pocket-size Maglite flashlights. There were also batteries stored in the same cabinet. Now that their lighting was better, he was able to look in more detail. He found a variety of tools, a first aid kit, toiletries and paper goods for the restrooms, and a fold-up Rand McNally map entitled Four Corners. The Four Corners was an area where Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah intersected. The map included detailed roads of all four states, a great find as they continued to work their way to Texas.

  Sook found a duffle bag pushed under a desk in the maintenance office. Inside, there were some extra clothes, a Bowie-style knife, a small Coleman lantern, a compass, a multi-tool and an unopened bundle of paracord.

  The two filled the duffle bag with the items they’d discovered and a cloth tarp that Duncan found in the tool room. After they’d gone through every nook and cranny of these two areas, they reentered the darkened hallway and considered their next move. Sook’s yawn caused Duncan to do the same, and he thought it might be best to bed down for the night. If they woke up early the next day, he’d give the place one more look before they headed east.

  The biggest decision he had to make was what to take. The horses were healthy and strong, but the amount of weight they could carry was limited. Fortunately, Sook appeared to be a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. If they could find another duffle bag and a way to secure it, each of them could carry food and water to last for many days. The tarp and paracord would help them with shelter. The tools he found could help them with shelter and fire.

  As they searched the building for a comfortable place to sleep for the night, they came upon a gift shop, which sold tee shirts and sweatshirts. Not only was there sufficient inventory to create a soft spot on the floor, but they now had sweatshirts with the Meteor Crater logo emblazoned across the front in yellow, orange, and red.

  As the two of them got settled and said their good nights, Duncan thought of all the things he’d taken for granted before that fateful day when he’d attempted to assassinate Kim Jong-un. Things like clothing, food, water, and transportation were all expected to be available to him. After his days in North Korea, he realized even the simple things, like the sweet smile of someone he cared for, would be appreciated.

  Chapter 26

  December 3

  The Armstrong Ranch

  Borden County, Texas

  Major and Lucy were sitting at the kitchen table, going over their food plan for the next two months. Typically, December and January were their coldest months with average low temperatures near freezing and highs reaching into the mid-fifties. The cattle would have to rely entirely upon feed hay they’d gathered in the fall, but it wasn’t enough to sustain the size of the herd they’d retained. The steers they’d slaughtered for beef after the EMP attack would provide a critical source of meat and protein for the group through mid-March, but Major’s concern was they’d run out of hay before the growth season started up.

  “Should we go ahead and butcher steers now to be used as food?” asked Lucy. “We could save the meat from the slaughterhouse for down the road.”

  “I thought about that, but I need to think ahead,” replied Major with a sigh. “It’s not gonna be like normal in the spring. I don’t know if they’ll have the big auctions in Abilene or Big Spring like in the past. If we start slaughterin’ the herd too early, we may not be able to buy replacements. The breeders may hold onto their stock, or realistically, some may not have the fuel to transport them to the auction.”

  “Have you heard something about gas and diesel shortages?”

  “No, but I’m guessin’ there might be if that nuke hit any refineries down south. Plus, most of these folks didn’t store regular food like we did. They may be eating up their herds to stay alive.”

  Lucy shook her head and set her pencil down. “So whadya think?”

  Before he could respond, someone began pounding on the front door. Major, as a former lawman, knew there was a difference between a polite hello-is-anybody-home knock on the front door and a pounding police-officer-open-up-or-I’ll-kick-the-door-in knock. This knock resembled the latter.

  “Major! We’ve got company.”

  It was Preacher. Major checked to make sure his sidearm was still on his hip, and he rushed toward the door, grabbing his shotgun as he opened the door.

  Two of his ranch hands were leading a group down the driveway toward the house. A horse-drawn wagon carried a couple, and they were followed by two more couples walking behind, leading their horses by the reins.

  “What’ve we got, Preach?” asked Major as he cradled his shotgun in his right arm. There didn’t appear to be a threat, only the excitement of other human contact.

  Major walked toward the visitors and shielded his eyes from the setting sun. He immediately recognized them as they pulled their wagon to a halt. It was the Slaughter family from the Lazy S Ranch over in Vealmoor.

  Back in the 1880s, Christopher Columbus Slaughter, or C.C. to his many friends, moved to West Texas after serving in the Confederate States Army during the Civil War. Over the next several decades, he acquired nearly a million acres around Howard County, and at one time the Lazy S Ranch was home to forty thousand cattle.

  His legacy was short lived when C.C. died without a will in 1919. His family fought over his estate. His son, Bob, accused C.C.’s brother, Bill, of mismanagement of the ranch and its holdings. The argument escalated until Bob, in a fit of anger, shot his uncle Bill. Bill survived and sued Bob for slander, eventually winning a three-million-dollar judgment in 1920.

  By 1921, the family was torn in many directions, and the heirs eventually split apart the ranch. Bob went on to found the town of Vealmoor, where the family continued to operate a ranch for several generations. Over time, however, the once great Lazy S Ranch, which had earned C.C. Slaughter the title Cattle King of Texas, became a shadow of itself.

  Standing before Major was the last of the original Slaughter bloodline, a family who now appeared broken and defeated.

  Lucy joined Major and immediately recognized Adele Slaughter, an old high-school friend of hers. She ran to the wagon, and Adele lowered herself to accept Lucy’s embrace. Adele immediately began crying.

  Major helped her husband off the wagon. “Chris, are you folks all right?”

  Chris Slaughter, who was named after his great-grandfather, shook hands with Major and then dusted himself off. “No, Major, not so good. It’s all my fault. I take full blame for what happened.”

  Major noticed that Adele was still crying, and everyone around was staring at her. He decided to invite the Slaughters inside so they could hear their story.

  “Preacher, would you mind taking care of their people? Get some hay and water for their horses. We’ll fix supper in a little while for our guests.”

  “Okay, boss,” replied Preacher as he approached the other visitors.

  Major invited their guests inside, where Lucy fixed a pot of coffee. They sat around the kitchen table, which had a calming effect on the couple’s nerves. Although they’d fallen out of touch over the past few years, the two couples used to get together to share a meal when the Slaughters’ two sons were in high school with Duncan and Dallas. Like so many West Texas kids, when they grew up, they’d left for the big city, hoping to find their way in the world. The Slaughters’ sons had moved to Atlanta, where they both worked for Delta Air Lines.

  “The other night,” Chris began the story after taking a deep breath, “I saw the rocket fly over our heads. Did
y’all see it too?”

  “Yeah,” replied Major. He didn’t elaborate because he wanted their old friend to tell his story.

  “Anyway, when the second one flew to the south, I knew we were under attack. I gathered everyone up and headed for our large root cellar by the milk barns. That whole thing was built on a large slab of concrete back in the sixties.

  “Well, you remember, at the time, we were all afraid the Soviets were gonna nuke us to smithereens. My parents built a nuclear fallout shelter under the slab, but it eventually became a nice root cellar ’cause the temperatures never got above fifty degrees down there.

  “Anyway, I got everyone down in there, and we shut the door behind us. Major, I’m ashamed to admit this, but I was too afraid to come out of there. I didn’t know what was happening aboveground, so I made everyone stay until this morning.”

  Chris started to speak again, and then his eyes welled up in tears. He took a moment to gather himself with the assistance of Adele, who squeezed his hands. Major looked to Lucy, who was also getting emotional from the sight of their friends in pain.

  Chris continued. “Anyway, while we were underground, somebody must’ve come across the ranch house. Major, they burned us out. I don’t know why, or how it started. But I began to smell smoke through the air vents of the root cellar, and it forced me to go topside. I hit the ground running and fell to my knees when I saw our family’s home, which had stood for nearly a hundred and fifty years, burned to the ground.”

  He buried his face in his hands as reliving the moment brought him to emotional rock bottom. Adele hugged her husband of thirty-one years and continued relaying the story.

  “Y’all, we lost everything except what was in our barns, the horses, and our dairy cows. I don’t know who did this, but they took nearly everything we have.”

  Lucy reached across the table for her friend’s hand. “At least you’re safe. God protected you both, and now you’re alive. Be thankful for that.”

  “Oh, we are, but now we’re at a loss. We went to the DeWitts’ ranch, hoping they’d put us up, at least temporarily.”

  “Mickey turned us away,” interrupted Chris. “He wasn’t even man enough to do it himself. He sent one of his men to their gate to deliver the compassionate news.”

  Major began to process the Slaughters’ predicament. He knew what was coming next. Chris and Adele had traveled the thirty miles from their ranch in hopes he’d take them in. There were many factors to consider before the subject was put on the table. Also, he needed to discuss it with Preacher and Lucy first.

  Major abruptly stood and excused himself from the table. “Folks, forgive me for a moment. I need to holler at Preacher for a second regarding the barnyard.”

  As he walked past Chris, he patted his friend on the shoulder and smiled. He then looked past the Slaughters and made eye contact with Lucy, who returned a puzzled look because there would be no reason to send Preacher to the barnyard. Major nodded his head toward to the door with a wink. He hoped she picked up on the message.

  Major exited onto the porch and yelled, “Preacher, can I borrow you? I need a favor.”

  Preacher trotted toward the porch, and Major swung around to see Lucy shuffling through the front door to join them. Major took her by the hand and pulled Preacher to the side where they couldn’t be seen through the still-open front door.

  “What’s wrong, boss? You look nervous.”

  “It’s okay, Preach. They were burned out by someone while they were riding out the attack.”

  “Yeah, I heard. They lost everything.”

  Lucy added, “Guys, they’ve got no place to go.”

  “Which is exactly what Chris and Adele plan on talking about next,” said Major. “We haven’t talked about takin’ in strays before.”

  “They’re not strays,” admonished Lucy. “They’re our friends. I believe they’d do the same for us.”

  “It’s six more mouths to feed,” said Preacher. “But there is a potential upside if we can figure out where to house them all.”

  “What’s that?” asked Major.

  “From what I understand, they’ve got sixty head of dairy cows that their hands continue to milk. They’ve got milk stored, and they know how to make cheese. I’m told they dip it in wax and it’s good for a long time.”

  “Okay, the dairy cows would be a big plus, but we can’t milk that many by hand,” said Major.

  Preacher rubbed his chin as he considered a few options. “Well, I think we can dismantle enough of their equipment and set up a dairy station over at the Reinecke Unit. We can take a look at converting the buildings to housing too. Short-term, we could put up the two married couples that work for the Slaughters out at the house on our western boundary.”

  “Chris and Adele can stay in our guest room until their new place is built,” Lucy chimed in as her spirits lifted, something Major immediately noticed. The thought of having Adele around might help Lucy through those times when she was missing their kids.

  “How are we gonna feed them? Not the people, the cows?” asked Major.

  “More good news,” said Preacher. “They’ve got an old International truck and flatbed combo. Their hands told me the Lazy S barns are filled with rolled hay, enough to feed our cattle too. We can add dairy cows to the mix, feed our cattle into spring, plus more warm bodies to protect our perimeter. This solves a lot of our problems, boss.”

  Major rubbed the stubble on his face, a reminder that he’d better lean up against a razor soon or Miss Lucy would have him sleeping with the horses. He shrugged and smiled. “Miss Lucy, I don’t need to even ask you for your vote. It’s written all over your face.”

  “Major, they’re good people. Heck, I’ve known Adele for as long as I’ve known you.”

  Major turned to Preacher. “How do you feel about their people?”

  “Good. Both couples are young, but stable. Two local high school sweethearts from Howard County, and the other two grew up in Big Spring. I can work with them.”

  Major nodded. “It’s unanimous. Frankly, I can’t see any negatives other than the logistics of expanding our ranch over onto Reinecke property. Their management team was in Houston before they sold out to MarkWest Energy in Denver. I suspect the last thing on their mind is this little old gas well operation.”

  “Can I tell them the good news?” asked Lucy.

  Major looked over her shoulder and saw that the Slaughters had emerged onto the front porch. Their arms were wrapped around each other’s waists, awkwardly waiting for the Armstrongs to return.

  “Absolutely, but we need to make it clear what’s expected of them,” replied Major. “Everyone contributes here, and we’re asking them to share the rest of what they own to join us. It’s the only way.”

  Chapter 27

  December 3

  Near Bridger, Montana

  “Coop, up ahead on the left. That looks like a pretty good possibility.” Riley had reluctantly relinquished driver’s duties on the second day of their journey to allow Cooper a turn. All three were now on a frantic hunt for another precious commodity of the apocalypse—fuel.

  Having a diesel-powered vehicle during a grid-down scenario had a few advantages over their gasoline-powered counterparts, the most important of which was availability. Finding supplies of gasoline would be limited mostly to stalled vehicles and gas cans stored for operating lawn equipment.

  Siphoning fuel out of newer model vehicles was nearly impossible without the right equipment. Those who attempted to punch a hole in the bottom of the tank using a sharp object, like a screwdriver and a hammer, were in for a rude surprise if a spark ignited the gas.

  Within the many garages across America, fuel cans were stored with gasoline, many of which might have been mixed with small-engine oil, tainting its effectiveness in combustion engines. Most gasoline was stored in underground fuel tanks at gas stations, which had lost power due to the EMP. Extracting the gas from underground could be done if the station ha
d a generator. Others had mastered a technique using a PVC well-bailer to extract the gas through its fill pipes, but the process was slow, and dangerous if seen by others.

  Diesel fuel was different. In rural areas, farmers had aboveground diesel storage tanks to use for their farm equipment. Unlike road-vehicle-grade fuel, which was clear, some diesel was dyed red for use in off-road vehicles and farm implements.

  There was no difference between the effectiveness of the two types of diesel. The only reason farm diesel was dyed red had to do with taxation. Farm diesel wasn’t taxed while clear, street-legal diesel was.

  The Rodeo Kids knew this, having grown up around diesel vehicles on the ranch, and it was a consideration as they chose their route south. However, the large, spacious ranches of Montana proved to be a problem as they searched for a spot to refill Red Rover’s tank. It was Riley who first noticed a possible solution to the slowly descending fuel needle.

  “Let me pull over,” said Cooper. “Palmer, check it out through the binoculars. Do you see any signs of activity?”

  Palmer studied the small farmhouse and the neighboring barn. The three of them sat in silence, giving her plenty of time to watch for signs of life. She handed the binoculars to Riley, who took a turn.

  “This might work, guys,” said Palmer, not waiting for Riley’s opinion. “There’s a broken window on the side of the house, and the front door was left open. Looks like someone broke in, took what they could find, and left.”

  “Looters,” Cooper said under his breath.

  “Yeah, but there is a chance for some fuel,” added Riley, who continued to look through the binoculars. “There’s a barn with what looks like a blue and white Ford tractor sitting in it. If we can find a water hose, at least we can siphon the diesel out of the tractor.”

  Palmer nodded as Riley handed the Bushnell back to her. “I’ll betcha there’s a diesel tank around back, or at least a can or two of fuel. This thing doesn’t drink much.”