by John Grit
“I won’t, Brian.” He laughed. “I promise you that.”
Chapter 3
Morning came and Nate was still up, watching and listening. Brian was asleep in bed, dead tired.
Nate waited until ten before firing up the stove and cooking some canned corned beef and potatoes. He was not going out to the chicken coop for eggs until he had a better look around in daylight. It would do for breakfast. He wished he had some ketchup for Brian. At least there was still bread and coffee.
Nate turned on the shortwave and punched buttons until he got two hams talking about the violence in their area: Orlando. “There ain’t a single deputy on duty in this county,” a man with a gravelly voice said. “And the city cops disappeared weeks ago. Probably most are dead. The few that aren’t are protecting their own families.”
Nate yelled down the hallway. “Brian. Time to wake up and eat. And there’s something on the radio I want you to hear.”
Waking with a start in his bed, eyes wide open and fully alert, Brian asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Time to eat. Everything’s okay.” Nate turned the radio up.
“Most of downtown is burned to the ground, the stores all looted, picked clean,” the second voice said his voice revealing fear and dismay. “And what they’re taking is insane. How in the hell is a TV or computer going to keep you alive? You can’t eat them. And there’s no power anyway.”
“What’s that he’s saying, Dad?” Brian yelled from down the hall.
“Listen while you eat.” Nate set another plate on the table.
Brian stood in his socks and the clothes he wore the night before, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “This is the first time you let me listen to the radio in months. Since the power went out. You said it would run the battery down and there was nothing on it anyway.” His eyes lit up. “What about the TV?”
“The solar panel has recharged the batteries by now, but the TV will use too much power. None of the stations are on anyway. They have no power either. This isn’t a commercial station, it’s ham radio, shortwave. People are talking to one another like the cops on their car radios. Just listen and learn about what’s going on now that the sickness has taken most people in America, probably the world.”
As they ate, more ham radio operators joined the conversation. It was getting too bleak and descriptive, so Nate checked other stations until a commercial shortwave station out of London came in.
A woman’s voice in British accent came from the speaker. “As we have been saying all along, please stay indoors and off the streets. There is nothing to be done for your loved ones. Most hospitals are shut down for lack of personnel and power. There are no medications for this disease, so you must stay home and care for your loved ones there. Just keep them in bed and as comfortable as possible until the end.” A man broke in. “And please be careful with candles and fire. It’s overcast and cold tonight, but you must be careful trying to stay warm with fire. Many fires are burning throughout London at this moment, and there is no way to fight them. There are not enough healthy personnel left to provide any municipal services at all. You are on your own. This may be the last night we broadcast. The generator is running low on petrol. God be with you.”
“Is it like that everywhere?” Brian asked.
Nate turned the radio off. “The last I heard, the sickness was all over the globe.”
Brian swallowed hard and looked inward. “We can’t go to town, can we?”
“No.” Nate’s eyes locked on his son.
“People are killing each other ‘cause they’re scared and hungry and cold.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t blame you for killing those men. You couldn’t just call the sheriff.”
“It’s just us, Brian. Our nearest neighbors are all dead. Except maybe Mel. Being in the Guard, he was called to duty early on. I didn’t say anything to you at the time. Maybe he’s alive, maybe not. Anyway, we’ve got to take care of each other and get by with what we have here.”
Brian smiled, all sign of worry leaving his face. “Ha! Mel, he’s a real nut. Always talking about surviving the end of the world as we know it. Remember that song he always listened to? All those guns and ammo he kept!”
“I’m thinking he wasn’t such a nut after all.” Nate put his fork down. “Before he left, he asked me to keep an eye on his place and said if we needed anything to help ourselves to his cache of food. He knew how bad it had already gotten and was afraid he might not make it back.”
“That was six months ago. I hope he does come back. He was always good to us, even if he was a survivalist nut.”
“I wish he were here now,” Nate said. “We could use another…hand in the field come spring.”
“There you go again, Dad. What you meant was we need another man who can fight in case more men come to kill us. I’m not a kid anymore. You should stop hiding things from me like you did Beth.”
“Eat,” Nate said. “Your food is getting cold. We need him for a lot of things. We could band with our other neighbors too…if they had lived. His place is a lot more defendable than our farm. I’m thinking about moving into that bunker of his and waiting it out. In a few more months the population will thin out even more and there will be fewer men able to walk out here to bother us. Starving people can’t walk far, and we’re thirty-five miles out in farm country. Gas is running out, so they can’t drive out here much longer. The dirt roads aren’t being maintained. Come summer and heavy rain, maybe a hurricane, they will be washed out. I hope anyway.”
Brian stopped eating and just sat and looked at his father.
“I’m the same man I was before, Brian. It’s the world that’s changed, not me. I did not do this to the world anymore than I killed your mother and sister. The world is out of our hands. We’re going to have a hard enough time just taking care of each other.” He looked at Brian across the table. “Like we did last night. I’m proud of you. But I always was.”
Brian looked down at his food. “We can’t help anyone?”
“If someone we knew we could trust showed up, it would be a help to us.”
Brian looked across the table at his father. “You mean if it was Mel, someone who could help us survive.”
“Anyone we could trust. With just the two of us, it’s going to be hard to keep a twenty-four-hour watch. We must set up security procedures and two people just isn’t enough. We have to sleep. And someone has to watch for trouble while the other takes care of the animals and does all the other work around here. We can’t be careless like we’ve been. That’s over. It’s too dangerous now. People are starving and there is no law.”
“It’s scary.”
“Yes it is.”
Brian cocked his head, his face showing puzzlement. “I just remembered the fire last night. Up on the hill. Did you ever check it?”
Nate drank from a glass of water. “I didn’t have time. I think that fire was a ruse to lure us up there and into an ambush. When we didn’t take the bait, they came down after us.” He stood. “I’m going to check out the area, including the hill. Stay inside. Keep the doors and shutters locked and that shotgun within arm’s reach at all times.”
“Okay. But how did you know they were around even before you saw the smoke? The egg thief?”
“They were not after eggs. Someone else is the egg thief. It was the egg thief who woke me up and made me more aware of things though. When you’ve been hunted…something happens inside you. You learn to sense danger…when you’re being hunted…I just knew.”
“I wish I could learn that.”
“I hope you never do. I hope last night is the closest you ever come to…”
“You’re scared for me, more than anything else.”
“Yes. Just do what I tell you and we should be okay.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know. I better go. It will be late dark thirty when I get back. I want to swing around wide and check things out around the area and go over to Mel�
�s place too. So don’t worry unless I’m not back by late tonight.”
“Okay. But try to be back before it’s too dark. The cow has to be milked and fed, and I want to churn some butter, we’re out.”
Nate’s face softened. “Remember; don’t go outside until I get back. I can milk the cow tonight if need be. She’s not producing much now since we can’t let her out to graze. The cow will be okay until tonight. Why don’t you grind some wheat and bake a couple loaves? We’re out of bread too.”
Brian glanced at the wood box and saw there was plenty of firewood. “What about the smoke?”
“You’re thinking, keep doing that. I’ll be around for the most part, up in the hills and watching. If there are more men around, the smoke may make them think we’re both inside. I can hear your gunfire from a mile away. One shot and I will come running and pick them off if they sneak up to the house. There will be a time when I can’t see, when I’m at Mel’s place. But otherwise I will be watching. Just stay in the house. ”
“Oh.”
“See you late this evening. And put that steel bar across the door after I’m out.”
* * *
Nate flowed through the woods at man-hunting speed, staying in the shadows and choosing his path with cover and concealment in mind, the Ranger way. He did not think anyone was around. The two he killed was all of them. There was the egg thief, but so far this person had done them no harm. Probably just a hungry refugee from town, he thought.
Fresh snow covered the men’s tracks, but he could tell the fire had been built and then quickly abandoned. Certainly it was a ruse to lure them up the hill and into an ambush.
On the way to Mel’s property, Nate found a fresh kill. Someone had snared a rabbit and skinned and gutted it sometime around daylight. Snow had not covered the tracks, and despite the heavy boots, it was obvious this person was not large. Since the trail was going his way, he followed cautiously, staying off to the side and in cover. A mile and a half from Mel’s place, the tracks led into a stand of small pines that were growing thick, offering good concealment for anyone wanting to hide. He eased into the maze but stopped after one hundred yards. He was coming into rough country, with a multitude of ambush sites. Too dangerous to go on just to satisfy his curiosity, he turned and headed for Mel’s bunker.
If you did not know where it was, you might never find it. Surrounded by national forest land, and with no roads leading to it, Mel had picked a good location for a survivalist retreat.
He searched out a route that a cow could travel while keeping in cover. His plan was to transport all the livestock to Mel’s place and keep them hid as well as possible. But that would have to wait for warmer weather and would require Brian and him to raise enough hay for the cow on their farm next summer while maintaining security. That would not be easy. Working in an open field is a good way to get shot if any more hungry people came around. They also had to carry enough chicken feed to last a year on their backs through rough, hilly country. It would take many trips. Anything they left behind would most likely be looted. The home and barn could even be burned to the ground.
Moving slowly through the woods, enjoying the warmth of the sun and being outdoors, his mind raced back to happier days when he was a boy. He grew up on the farm he now owned, and, as a boy, spent nearly every spare hour away from school and farmwork walking these woods, hunting, fishing, trapping, and camping. In those days the only worries he had was making certain he did not raise the ire of his father. Then came the Army, and for a solid year, and then another, life-and-death decisions came every day in a hot, cold, dry, sandy, hellhole. One mistake and those he served with, innocent civilians who got in the way, not to mention him, would die. He remembered the Ranger RT leader who called in a fire mission on top of his own men. Five died in a second. One mistake and five good men died. The RT leader committed suicide three days later. And there was South America. This one a jungle war.
Then came marriage and a son and daughter. More responsibilities. With those responsibilities came the most satisfying part of his life. Now, he had only his son, and all the care and love he had for his wife and daughter was concentrated and focused on Brian. The plague left him with one goal: to give Brian a chance to live through the years ahead. He must give Brian a chance to have a life. The coming years would be hell. But the human race would fight up out of the dirt, dust itself off, and rebuild. He intended to make certain Brian lived long enough to see the rebuilding and enjoy the better times that surely will come. Someday. Someday.
Nate went to Mel’s bunker first. From a distance of only fifty yards, it appeared to be nothing more than a grassy mound. A few pine seedlings grew on the sod-covered concrete roof. Protruding from the roof were ventilation pipes, but you could not see them through the grass and weeds growing on the dirt that covered the whole bunker. The heavy steel door, painted olive drab for camouflage, had an overelaborate set of bolts of two inch thick steel rods (two hidden and nearly impossible to find unless you knew their exact location), locks, and latches. Only high explosives or a bulldozer could force it. The padlock was just the beginning of many obstacles to getting the door open. Nate noticed that no one had bothered it.
The door was protected by a concrete wall five feet high; some four feet back from the door. It was bermed too, with grass-covered dirt. Between the door and the wall was a perfect place to shoot from in relative safety. It did force anyone wanting to enter the bunker to come in from a right angle, but that was a small price to pay for the extra security it offered.
On all four sides, just above where the berms ended, ventilation and shooting slots were shuttered from inside with heavy steel plating. They were not visible behind the winter-killed grass that had grown tall on the berms now that Mel was not there to cut it.
There was no need to go inside. No one had bothered the door. More than likely, no one had been in the area since Mel left.
Nate went on to the cave. It was Mel’s cache, full of years’ worth of food and other survival supplies. The entranceway was well-hidden and equipped with the same massive door and hidden bolts as the bunker. It would make for an even safer place to hide, but there was no ventilation and anyone inside would die of lack of oxygen unless the door was left open. Also, there was no water supply. The bunker had a well and hand pump inside. There was also a toilet that flushed into a septic tank buried deep and off to the side of the bunker. You had to fill a bucket with the pump and then use the water to flush with. A small number of people could stay in that bunker for a long time without ever coming out.
It took him several minutes to unlock the large hacksaw and bolt cutter resistant locks with two different keys Mel had given him and pull the hidden bolts. They went through four feet of rock and into holes in heavy steal brackets on the inside of the door. Mel had to rent a special drill to bore the long holes. A bush covered the holes where the bolts came out of the rock, ending with a Tee-handle.
Nate smiled as he pulled the heavy door open. “Thank God for crazy survivalists. You’re not crazy if the sky actually is falling.”
He walked inside and stood long enough for his eyes to adjust to the dark. It was warmer in the cave. Unlike most caves in Florida, this one was relatively dry with less humidity in the air captured inside with the door closed. Sixty-five feet long and twenty wide, the cavern was filled to its ten foot ceiling with plastic forty-five gallon boxes and five gallon buckets with sealed covers. There were also many barrels of ten gallon to fifty-five gallon size, most were plastic. Every container was labeled: wheat; rice; freeze-dried beef stew…
Far in the back, behind boxes labeled “FD lasagna w/meat,” he found one marked: “condiments.” He stuffed a one-gallon can of freeze-dried ketchup in his backpack and then a can of lasagna. It took moving boxes aside to find the powdered drink mix. There was just enough room in his pack for a quart-sized can each of powdered orange drink and chocolate mix. All of the items were for Brian.
After securing the ca
ve door back as he found it, Nate walked a wide circle around the area, looking for sign of anyone having been on Mel’s land. The only thing he found was a snare set for rabbits. Snow had covered any tracks. Part of him wanted to stay and wait for the owner to check the snare. But he needed to get back to Brian. Whoever it was had done him no harm. Perhaps he had stolen a few eggs, if it was the same person, but even if it was, he had no quarrel with him. Nate stayed on high alert all the way back to the farm.
* * *
“I picked up a few things at Mel’s cache.” Nate pulled the cans out of his pack and set them on the kitchen counter.
Brian rolled his eyes. “Ketchup. So you think I was going to die without it?”
“Well, now, aren’t you the appreciative one. It’s not like you have to eat it. The can’s not opened yet, and it can stay that way.”
“It will sure make the eggs taste better.”
“Especially when you burn them.”
“Now you’re picking on me.”
“You deserve to be picked on. You haven’t said thank you yet. I carried this stuff many miles.” He lifted the two smaller cans out of the pack. “Either of these will go with breakfast too.”
Brian’s eyes flickered with light. He tried to appear blasé.
“And this will provide a few diners.” Nate set the can of lasagna down.
Brian smiled and said, “That’s okay, but couldn’t you have brought more stuff while you were there?”
He tried to run but Nate caught him by the neck. “Okay smart-mouth, you cook tonight while I milk and feed the cow. After we eat, you churn butter.”
“Cook? All you do is heat water and put in the freeze-dried stuff and stir a little.”
“You’re right.” Nate saw plates and cups piled by the sink. “That means you can do the dishes too.”
“Should we say a prayer for Mel tonight?” Brian had a mischievous smile on his face.
“You’re still being a smartass,” Nate said. “You pray? We should certainly have him own our minds as we enjoy his food, that’s for sure.”