What's Left of My World: A Story of a Family's Survival

by C. A. Rudolph

  Once the Schmidts settled down and began realizing that the group was waiting for them to pay attention, Norman began filling in the group with all of the details about what had happened at the Ackermann farm, the day before. He wanted to be as specific and factual as possible but with children present, he left out a few of the gory details. As he talked, an assortment of looks were being exchanged among the group. Most of which showed extreme apprehension, others displayed looks of confusion. Scott Schmidt held up his hand. Norman paused and nodded to him.

  “Wait a second,” Scott began, “Sorry, I feel like everyone else already knew about this and we’re just now finding out.”

  “That’s because everyone else does know already,” Fred interjected. “I took each family aside and gave them the rundown before the meeting. If you would have been here, you would’ve gotten the same information as I gave them.”

  Scott gave Fred a cockeyed cynical look. Fred was fuming, but kept his composure. Whitney Schmidt placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder.

  “Can we please not make this meeting about us?” she said. “It sounds like we have a real problem here.”

  “We do,” Norman said. “I think what we found yesterday is just a sign of what’s coming.”

  “We’ve dealt with people like this before and came out on top,” Scott pointed out.

  “Those people weren’t true killers,” Norman said. “These guys are.”

  Michael Perry closed the double doors to the church and walked closer to the group, so he could better hear the discussion. “We need to check on the barricade,” he said. “In lieu of what happened, we need to find out how exactly they got into our valley.”

  “Is it is possible that they came from the north?” Whitney asked.

  “Possible, but not likely,” Michael said. “We certainly would have heard something.”

  “Agreed,” Peter chimed in. “You said they were Harley Davidson motorcycles, Norm?”

  “They were.”

  “Then we most definitely would have heard them going down the road,” Peter said. “I seriously doubt they pushed their bikes all the way here from Wardensville, past everyone’s house without anyone noticing. Also, I want to point out that even though I’m no expert by any means, what I’ve heard of the Marauders isn’t good. Back in the day, rumor was they were gun and drug runners—similar to the Pagans or the Hell’s Angels. Smaller in numbers, but just as deadly.”

  “Fantastic,” Whitney said with a sigh.

  “If the barricade is compromised, there’s enough hill coming down from the gap that they could have drifted their bikes down here,” Michael pointed out. Everyone nodded.

  Bryan Taylor handed his daughter to his wife, and lifted his hand in the air.

  “I just want to point out that Sarah and me haven’t heard anything either,” he said. “We live the closest to the barricade and it’s been as quiet as it’s always been.”

  “What about the abandoned houses over your way, Bryan?” Norman began, “any activity?”

  “No, they’re all still abandoned and locked up. I patrol that area often when I go squirrel hunting. By the way, we didn’t hear any shots yesterday, otherwise I would’ve come running. I’m sorry that we weren’t there to help. The Ackermann’s farm is in that hollow, though—blocked from us by terrain.”

  “We didn’t hear shots yesterday either,” Scott said, “that I can remember. Sorry.”

  “Most likely it was because you were sleeping,” Fred jeered.

  “Well, we heard them plain as day,” Michelle verified. “I’m glad we did, otherwise we wouldn’t have any idea what had happened.”

  Several different conversations between the families began and went on for several minutes. Questions were brought up about Mr. Ackermann and his welfare, and some group members decided it would be a good idea to pay him a visit to see if he was all right or needed anything. After all, he was alone now with his wife gone. He had a small farm with livestock and he was the only one left to protect it. After the conversations died down, Fred once again regained control of the meeting.

  “Our first order of business is to verify the barricade, then,” Fred said. “Does everyone agree with that?”

  Every head in the church nodded in recognition.

  “We’re going to need to step it up around here,” Peter said. “If these guys have motorcycles, we aren’t going to be able to respond riding bicycles.”

  “Pete is right,” Fred said. “We have a little over four miles of valley between the barricade and Perry to patrol. It’s going to be hard to do that with bicycles and damn near impossible to do on foot. My Humvees can help with that.”

  “We have four-wheelers,” Norman began, “as well as my truck and Michelle’s Suburban. We just don’t have enough gas to justify using them on a daily basis.”

  “We have ATVs, too,” Whitney offered as her husband looked on silently. “We also have our old Bronco we could use, if needed.”

  “I have my motorcycle and several jugs of gas,” Peter said. “My old F-150 still runs. If the community needs what I have to keep safe, it’s at your disposal.” Amy smiled at her husband, noting his generosity and willingness to help.

  “We have a Kawasaki Mule,” Bryan began, “and enough gas to run it for a while, if needed. Unfortunately, both of our cars are junk—too many electronic control boards.”

  “I think everyone knows what we have,” Kristen Perry finally spoke up. “Our property is virtually a graveyard of excavation equipment.”

  “Except most of what I own still runs, which makes it not a graveyard,” her husband pointed out. He hesitated and smiled at his wife, then continued. “I’m a little reluctant to tell you all this, but I have two five-hundred-gallon unleaded fuel tanks behind my shop. One of them is full. The other about half. The gas is treated and will last a long time. I also have quite a lot of off-road diesel. If we need to be mobile, I can support our needs for a good while.”

  Everyone gave the Perrys looks of surprise. Every family had transportation but with fuel being as scarce as it was, no one had been willing to use what they had, unless it was absolutely necessary. Having fuel available would solve a lot of problems and give everyone more options. Michael Perry was known for his generosity as well as his resourcefulness, but no one had any idea the depths of it—with the exception of his wife. She gazed at him with a look of total approval.

  “Michael, I’m blown away,” Michelle said. “This is amazing news.”

  “I was going to hold out on informing the group for a while longer, but it seems to me like we have a real threat to our livelihood now and it’s become necessary,” he said.

  “Well, since we’re all cleaning out our closets now, I guess I can tell everyone that I have an underground gasoline tank, too,” Fred said. “I don’t have as much as Mike does, but its available if needed.”

  “After we check on the barricade, we can make a stop by everyone’s place and gather all the empty fuel cans,” Michael said. “I’ll take them to my place, fill them, and distribute them.”

  “Sounds great,” Norman said. The rest of the group showed their acceptance of the plan. “I don’t know what I’m more excited about though—being able to use our vehicles or being able to use my chainsaw again.”

  The group laughed. Another conversation began, concerning how the group would need to begin patrolling the area on a regular basis. Norman brought up the fact that the barricade, regardless of its condition, needed to be guarded in order to maintain a level of security in the valley. The logistics of doing so would require two men to be present at the barricade at all times. Since the community was virtually unguarded on the northern end of the valley, options for barricading the road just past the old Perry Wildlife Zoo were discussed. The group also conferred about having roving patrols in the valley. With both ends of the valley guarded and patrolled twenty-four hours a day, all of the families could continue their daily routines in relative safety. The only thi
ng that was left out was communication. In a world where everything electronic didn’t work anymore, this was a touchy subject. Fred once again interjected.

  “Everyone here knows I’m a prepper,” Fred said. “Well, that being said, I do have some radios.”

  That got everyone’s attention. It even stopped the incessant whispering between Scott Schmidt and his wife, which occurred normally when someone else was talking.

  “You have radios that work?” Peter responded with a look of surprise.

  “I do. Several of them. And I have rechargeable batteries for them and solar chargers,” Fred explained.

  “How did you manage to prevent them from getting fried?” Scott asked.

  “I kept them all in ammo cans in my metal building,” Fred said. “The EMP didn’t affect them. I’ve checked them out and they all still work.”

  “What kind of range will we get out of them?” Peter asked.

  “I’m no expert on radios, but they should work well in this valley,” Fred said. “We’ll keep a set of batteries in the solar charger and run a set in the radios. I have enough for all of us and some extra ones for the patrols.”

  “Maybe one for Lauren when she goes on walkabout,” Michelle said under her breath to Norman.

  Norman responded by tapping the top of her hand with his. He then whispered to her, “If we start patrolling the valley, she won’t need to do it anymore.”

  Fred turned around and reached into a large plastic bin behind him. He pulled out some large mylar bags and handed a few of them to Kim. They both then began distributing them out to each family. When Norman opened his, he saw a small black radio, a few Ziplock bags of batteries, and a solar charger with a carry handle. He had once seen this same charger at Harbor Freight and remembered that they had gone on sale one Sunday for about fifteen dollars. That must’ve been when Fred had decided to stock up. The radios had the brand name Baofeng on them. That name sounded familiar to him. He wasn’t certain, but he thought that maybe he and Alan had discussed this brand of radios before. He knew Alan was a licensed ham radio operator and it was very likely that he had one of these somewhere. Maybe two. Maybe more.

  “They’ll run on regular AA’s too, so if you don’t get a good charge from the solar, you can use regular batteries,” Fred said.

  Once they had finished handing out the radio kits, most of the men had pulled them out of the bags and had turned them on. Some were pressing the PTT button and saying things like breaker breaker, over-and-out, and 10-4 good buddy. They were smiling like kids who had just gotten a new present on Christmas. Norman began cycling through the channels which were all quiet. He noticed the channels had names like FRS1, GMRS1, and MARINE1. He verified with Peter’s radio that the channels and names were the same.

  “Looks like they’re all programmed with the same frequencies,” Norman said.

  “They are,” Fred said. “No need to confuse anyone.”

  Fred did a small demonstration of how to operate the radio and did so, in a way that even a person who had zero knowledge of electronics could understand. Bryan and Scott picked up on their operation immediately, since they were the two most technologically inclined in the group. The others asked questions, but eventually got the idea. The group set up each of their radios on the exact same pair of frequencies.

  After going over the radios, a small discussion was had about safety and the necessity for everyone in the community to be armed at all times. Some of the women who showed up to the meeting without a sidearm began looking at one another. Sarah Taylor had never been comfortable around guns. She never thought about it much until after the collapse but even then, she’d never considered carrying a weapon because her husband was an avid hunter and usually had a gun on him. She in turn, assumed she didn’t need one. This conversation was causing her to feel differently, and she began a silent discussion with her husband. While Scott Schmidt always wore a weapon on his side, his wife had never been seen with one. Amy and Kristen always had on a sidearm. Kristen did so because it was just her and her husband on their property and they weren’t always side by side. She had also seen the violence that had occurred in Wardensville the previous year, and knew the only way to truly protect one’s self was to carry a firearm. Having a gun was the only reason she’d been able to escape the unrest and make it home safely. Amy had been brought up in a very conservative household where guns were just always present. Growing up around them and being educated about them, she’d never had an issue about carrying one wherever she went. It was empowering to her.

  “I have a question, Fred,” Whitney Schmidt said.

  “Go ahead,” Fred said.

  “What if we don’t have a sidearm?” she asked.

  “If you don’t have a sidearm, then you need to get one,” Fred quipped.

  “We don’t have a lot of guns,” Scott said. “I have the handgun I’m wearing now, a shotgun, and a hunting rifle.”

  “Scott, how long have you lived here?”

  “For a while,” Scott replied.

  “And you’re just now bringing this to my attention?” Fred asked as his temper began to flair.

  “I didn’t think we needed anything else,” Scott said. “Sorry.”

  Fred shook his head in disgust. “I own a damn gun store,” he said. “Come by today and pick something out. We can work out the payment details later.”

  Scott and Whitney both smiled. They knew that the two of them were not Fred’s favorite people.

  “Bring your kids with you,” Fred said without looking at them, referring to their two teenage children, Brandon and Brooke, who had opted to stay home during today’s meeting. “They’ll need something, too.”

  After the meeting, all parties said their goodbyes and returned to their homes. They had decided to make a trip to check on the barricade about an hour after lunch, and it was nearing lunch time. Peter had offered to use his 1975 Ford F-150 to pick the others up. He insisted it would be the perfect choice because he could use it to pick up everyone’s empty gas cans on the way back and drop off to be filled at Michael’s house. In addition to Pete and Michael, Norman and Fred Mason decided they would join the party to check the barricade. Peter would pick them up on the way.

  Michelle and Norman walked past Lee, who was standing guard, and entered the cabin. They could immediately smell that Grace was cooking something, and it smelled fantastic. Norman slipped off his boots and walked to the kitchen to see Grace tending to a large pot of what appeared to be some variety of noodle soup. Norman laid the Mylar bag that contained the radio kit on the table.

  “Hey good lookin, whatcha got cookin?” he said to Grace.

  Grace shook her head. “Chicken noodle soup,” she replied. “And I hope it’s good because everything in it was freeze dried.”

  Michelle walked past the two as Grace gave Norman a sample of the soup with a wooden spoon. His eyes opened wide and he nodded, signifying that Grace’s concoction was palatable. She looked down the hallway and noticed that John’s bedroom door was open, and he was not in his bed.

  “Did John leave?” Michelle inquired.

  “About a half-hour ago,” Grace said. “He grabbed his shotgun, some gear from the gun safe, and left without saying much.”

  “He went to go look for Lauren, then,” Michelle said quietly. “I wish he would have waited for me.”

  “You don’t have any business out there right now,” Norman said. “I’ll be leaving soon to check the barricade. We need bodies here, not elsewhere.”

  “My daughter is out there somewhere, Norman,” Michelle said firmly. “We need to find her and get her home.”

  “I’m aware of that, babes,” he began, “and trust me when I say this—John will find her. He won’t come back until he does.”

  “And if John doesn’t come back?” Grace interjected.

  No one spoke. Grace’s outburst made everyone feel uncomfortable. Her attention turned back to her soup, which was nearing done. Michelle turned away a
nd went to her bedroom where she picked up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and then walked back outside to the porch, mildly slamming the door behind her.

  “I guess I shouldn’t have said that,” Grace offered, feeling sorry now that she had allowed her thoughts to be expressed verbally. “Honestly though, I just think it’s stupid to keep dividing ourselves up like this.”

  “We get it, Grace. And don’t worry, you’re fine. We all just need to have a little faith,” Norman said. He reached for a bowl on the counter and began spooning himself a large portion of soup. “It’s delicious, by the way.”

  Outside, Michelle was puffing away at the cigarette she had just ignited. Her arms were crossed and she was shaking a bit, but it wasn’t from the cold. Lee came around the corner and saw her.

  “How did the meeting go?” he asked.

  Michelle looked at him, but didn’t say anything at first.

  “Just like they all do, except this time we found out how resourceful people are here,” she replied.

  “Resourceful?”

  “Let’s just say, we are going to be using our Hondas a lot more now,” Michelle said.

  “That’s great news,” Lee said. “I am so sick of pedaling bikes all the time.”

  There was a moment of silence between the two as Lee could tell that Michelle was in a foul mood and didn’t know exactly what to say. While Lee was feeling a bit uncomfortable with the silence, Michelle was completely content with the lack of conversation.

  “Go inside and get yourself some soup,” she said. “We have a radio now, too. Your dad can show it to you.”

  As Lee approached her, Michelle held out her hand and took Lee’s AK-47. He smiled at her and walked inside. Michelle snapped the safety down and checked the bolt to make sure it was loaded, as she always did when handling someone else’s weapon. She then placed the safety back on and cradled the rifle in her arms, continuing to take occasional puffs on her cigarette. As she looked around the property, all she could think about was Lauren. Even with the looming threat of an armed rogue biker gang infiltrating their community, nothing else mattered to her. Michelle prayed that Lauren was ok and this was just a fluke, but it was hard to find faith and have comfort in that thought. She couldn’t help but imagine the worst. That was just her nature. She glanced down at the rifle she was holding and kept imagining what she would do if something had happened to her baby girl. If she found that someone was responsible for it, she would kill them without hesitation. If that someone had a family, she would kill them too out of pure vengeance. If anyone had harmed her daughter, she would end their existence and the existence of everything and everyone they held dear to them. It was non-negotiable. It was an eye for an eye, and completely justified in her book. No one fucked with her family.