She stopped in front of some houses about halfway to the bottom of the hill, which sat at an intersection. On her side was a gas station that she’d always thought of as sketchy at best, to her left was another one that didn’t seem much better. Across the street on her side was a bar-b-qued chicken place that she’d often wondered if it passed the health department inspections, and a vacant field. This was her second dread point. She kept her rifle at the ready and both she and Donna took a knee. She was just getting ready to ask Donna her opinion, when a deep voice behind her startled them both.
“Who the hell is you and what you doin’ here?!”
Brad
Ocoee, TN
Brad had been paying attention, a habit he’d developed since working for a local Fox affiliate where he’d been senior news editor. That had been his last job before the VA had retired him from injuries he’d received during a really bad helicopter crash overseas. He had absolutely no animosity towards the Marine Corps though, it had been a tragic accident, nothing more. If anything, he was proud of having survived and had done the best job he possibly could have then and after. He had somehow managed to complete ten years before getting his medical discharge, a fact that still made him feel ashamed. Afterwards, he’d gone to school while working, doing his best to support his first wife and five kids. He’d gotten an Associates in Broadcast Journalism from the local community college and started to work in a radio station. Several years and stations later, he’d pursued a degree in aviation, which he’d gotten, but not before his family had fallen apart. And then he’d met Julie; a newly divorced woman with five kids of her own. Neither was looking for anyone at the time, but things happened over the course of a year. Two years after they’d met, he’d married her, merging their two families into one big laugh factory. He smiled when he thought of that, His step-children really were more his than not, and his kids hers. Not one of the ten kids ever thought of the word step in anyway.
Looking back over their vows, some twenty years ago, Brad had zero regrets. He’d done his best to support them every way possible and it showed. Now that the kids were on their own, it had been his and Julie’s time, at least for the last two years. Even though she’d fully embraced prepping after Katrina, they’d lived in Bay St Louis, Mississippi when it hit, she was doubly so now near the Cherokee National Forest. They’d spent tons of time going over the what if thing. Teaching her how to shoot, camp, survive with little to nothing, and he’d made sure the kids were included on this.
What he saw on the news that morning sent a chill down him. He’d had a funny feeling about this virus that had suddenly started worldwide and all at once. When he saw the feed of the two captured ships in the Gulf of Mexico, he no longer doubted. He’d texted his wife first, then the rest of the family.
Brad hated it that Julie had taken a job nearly forty miles away, but because it was her chance to work at a very large hospital, he’d backed her on it. Together they’d gone over what to do when the world went tits up and how to get home. They had drilled as a family numerous times to make sure that everyone knew how to survive. He was very competent in her abilities, she could shoot better that he could and showed the least hesitation on the range. They’d also driven and discussed several escape routes. That was how they’d both thought of them; escape routes, because she’d be escaping through one of the worst areas, crime-wise, in the city. He’d printed off topographical charts and taught her how to read them, but she was the one who’d taken it from there and thought of things that had never crossed his mind. Like when she’d bought them clothing in smaller sizes because she knew they’d lose weight after a SHTF event. Her demanding tools that were hand operated blew him away. He was the one that came up with the water filtration though, he thought and smiled. If anyone could make it home, she could. He just wished he was with her to help, but her text told him to wait at home, which was probably a good idea, considering the amount of preps they had.
The virus was the x factor. It had started appearing everywhere at just about the same time a little over a week ago. Reports of widespread death were everywhere, with some estimates reaching over ninety percent mortality rate once you were infected; nine out of every ten people who were infected died. There was occasionally the odd reports of people acting crazy, but he considered that to be a breakdown of law and order. That was something he had expected was going to happen. Her being at work when those that were infected came mobbing in, looking for help, was something that he had expected and dreaded. Julie was putting herself on the front line and there was a chance that she could become infected herself.
That was why they had come up with a plan, just in case she did get sick and succumb to a disease and die or get placed on isolation. He would wait four days after receiving her last contact and then head out, hopefully with Jessie and Dillon, to the farm. They had figured on three days to get home, or at least within radio range, and one day added for a fudge factor. Brad sighed, thinking about it. He should have said a week, but four days was the agreement.
Her texted Jessie and Katie to let them know to expect the worse and that it wasn’t a drill of some sort, he’d never done that before. All of their drills had been pre-planned so that everyone could take the time off work. He then texted the other eight kids, hoping they’d head up on their own. He was reaching for a cup of coffee when the power went out. Something somewhere in the house snapped and that was it; no more power. He looked at his cell phone and found it dead and knew immediately that someone had gotten one or more nuclear missiles launched, probably from at least one freighter in the Gulf of Mexico that had escaped detection. He wanted to act immediately, but knew that he should wait a little while because whoever had launched them would be doing the same. Most likely they would be waiting on the government to bring out their unshielded equipment from their own Faraday cages and attempt to take them out as well. He took his coffee to the couch and sat, trying very hard not to jump the gun.
Brad went out to the shed and opened the aluminum garbage can that acted as a Faraday cage, and took out his electric drill, being very careful to close and re-secure it, just in case they weren’t done nuking yet. He had a back-up drill/driver just in case. One by one he took out the window coverings he’d made from three-quarter’s inch thick plywood, and retrieving his ladder, secured each of the downstairs windows. In each he’d cut a shooting port, just to be safe. He was halfway through the front windows when his neighbor, Dean, from across the street walked over.
“Hey, Brad. What’re you doing?” Dean asked.
“Haven’t you been watching the news? The shit has gone through the oscillating wind generator.” Brad replied, hoping Dean would just nod and go home. No such luck.
“You talking about the terrorists? Yeah, it’s bad. How long do you think the power will be out?” he asked and Brad looked at the portly man and shook his head. Dean was clueless, like always.
“Probably forever. If you’re smart, you’ll head back home and fill everything you can with water before the pressure drops, because it will.” Brad said, screwing in another screw.
“Naw, the power will be on as soon as they find out what blew up.” Dean said.
“Not this time. Have you tried your car? Ten bucks says it’s dead too.” Brad said and Dean thought it over.
“Cell phone’s down too. Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“Very. Go home, Dean. Fill everything with water and get ready for a power outage like you wouldn’t believe.” Brad said, moving the ladder to the next window.
“Well heck, Debra’s at work. How’s she supposed to get home?” Dean asked.
“Walk, like Julie’s doing, if she’s smart. It’s a whole new world, Dean. “Brad told him.
“Debra won’t walk home. She’ll wait there until I come and get her.” Dean said defiantly.
“You’re right. She works, what five miles from here? That’s much too far for her to walk in heels. Maybe you should fill up everything you can
find with water, then go and get her.” Brad answered sarcastically. Evidently Dean missed it, no surprise there.
“I could. Aren’t you going to get Julie? Goodness, she works in downtown Chattanooga.” Dean exclaimed.
“I know. Thirty-eight miles by the closest route. I have to wait here, my daughter and my son-in-law are coming over, so I have to get everything set.” Brad said, climbing down from the ladder.
“She’s going to walk thirty-eight miles? That’s not right, Brad. The Bible says a man’s supposed to take care of his wife.” Dean looked down and shook his head and it pissed Brad off immediately. He looked down from the ladder and sighed.
“I’ve done and am doing everything I can to look out for my family, Dean. She’s more than prepared to make it home, I’ve no doubt about that. Now what are you going to do about Debra?” Dean asked.
“Honestly? She’s meaner than a snake, even if she is my cousin. I feel like leaving her there, but what would happen to her on the way home? Is this the apocalypse?” Dean looked beside himself and Brad smiled. The man was a fool on a good day and this wasn’t one of them.
“Yes, Dean, this is it. Hopefully some of that make-up she wears so heavily will melt off and people will see her for what she really is. I guarantee nobody will want to touch that.” Brad smiled and Dean chuckled.
“Ya got that right. So, go fill everything with water. Anything else?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, the one thing you’re good at; pray.” Brad said and moved on to the next window. He had to get this finished, the solar panels up on the roof, the extra food in the shed moved inside and then wait. He looked around and realized that he’d come outside unarmed. Time to take a break and fix that, he admonished himself.
Climbing down from the ladder, he wiped the sweat off his forehead. This was going to suck without air-conditioning. After attaching the holster to his belt, he went back out to finish what he had to get done, because if he was right, shit would go through the wind generator at record speed. He took the solar panels from the 50-gallon drum he’d made into a poor man’s Faraday cage and climbed back up the ladder. He’d planned ahead and even built one for the deep cycle RV batteries that he’d set up in a bank. They were already charged, a chore that he’d done twice a month. That completed; he went inside and went to the upstairs laundry room, climbed atop the washer, he’d always wondered whose idea it was to put the laundry room upstairs, but found it worked. He opened the small drop-down door, dropped the ladder that was angled to reach the floor, and climbed up into the upper attic. From there he carefully made his way to a small fixed ladder, which led to a small platform. He stood up in the cupola, which looked purely decorative, and removed the fake venting, replacing it with ones made out of heavy steel that had gun ports cut into them. From up here, he could see most of the neighborhood. Satisfied with that, he made his way back downstairs, leaving the upper attic door open for quick entry. He grabbed a paper towel from the counter and mopped his face with it. He was going to have to go back up in the attic to open up the vents he’d installed, but that would wait until after dark.
He quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and drained it. There was still more work to get done quickly, normally Julie would have been with him, but as luck would have it, she was at work. He stopped for a minute to think if there was anything he hadn’t trained her for and practiced with her routinely and couldn’t think of a thing. He was worried as hell, but he had to trust that she’d make it home. Scratch that, he knew she could do it.
He went around to the side of the house and disconnected from the powerline and capped off the ends. He knew that the power wasn’t coming back, but better safe than sorry. He then went into the shed and removed the four panels from the Faraday cage he’d made, along with the inverter, the charge controllers and the two deep-cycle marine batteries. He was worried that maybe he was hooking them up too soon, but he did have a replacement for everything in another cage. Taking the ladder, he hauled the panels to the shed’s roof, where he threaded the cable through pre-drilled holes and mounted them on the mounts he’d put on when he bought the system. That done he went back into the shed, connected the batteries to the underground cable that led back to the house. From there all he had to do was flip a breaker, if it hadn’t been fried (he usually left it off, so he hoped it would help), and found the plastic container that help the parts for his next job; ventilation.
He’d pre-cut thin slabs of wood to frame each window as well as the screens for each. One thing he’d learned from Katrina were that bugs could drive you insane and keep you up all night. He’d replaced the home’s windows with double hung windows, taking a hint from his childhood. His parents had bought an older house in the 1960’s that lacked air-conditioning. The houses seemed to stay comfortable with a mixture of shade trees and the double hung windows, which let the heat escape from the top when it was lowered. At least that was his understanding. Modern homes were not designed for this, and builders, unless asked, installed windows that were more “energy efficient”. Both he and Julie preferred to shut the air off and open the windows on days when it was cool.
It took another hour to put the screen up around the house, fortunately with no interference from Dean. As he climbed down the ladder from the last window, he cursed himself for feeling so damned old. He folded up the ladder and left in on the carport. Having twins was difficult at any age, he’d always said. Both girls had married a guy named Zack, so he’d had to improvise to keep them straight in the family. Jessie’s Zack was called by his middle name, Dillon, Katie’s was Zack. Sooner or later Jessie, would show up with Dillon to help out. The other twin, Katie, would be taking her husband and daughter to the property in Hopewell to get it set up. The Hopewell homestead, which Brad had purchased the thirty-four acre spread five years ago, was out in the middle of nowhere. There were houses around the farm, but they weren’t up-close. Brad had texted his daughters right after texting Julie and told them to get ready and reminded them not to say a word to anyone. He had no fear about either of them getting to their destinations safely. They could both shoot well, as could their husbands. Dillon was a hunter and good in the bush if they needed it. Zack spent one tour in the Army with a deployment in the sandbox. He went into the house, opened the circuit breaker and crossed his fingers as he flipped the switch. Instantly he heard the hum from the fridge and the freezer and breathed a sigh of relief. He had some radios that he’d left in their own faraday cage that he’d get to later. Those would go in the attic under the cupola, where he had a bed, some supplies just in case he had to hunker down there, and a desk for the radios. Opening the fridge again, he quickly grabbed a beer and opened it, collapsing heavily on the couch. He hadn’t been this tired since the force march up Mount Fuji during his days with the Marines. He decided to live for a minute and flipped on the ceiling fan. Sure, it blew warm air, but it still helped cool him down. He was just starting to doze off when the sound of distant gunfire brought him back around and he frowned. It was getting crazy a little earlier than he’d figured. He went back to the attic and turned the attic fans on to at least get it a little cooler.
After retrieving his homebuilt AR-15 from the gun safe and grabbing six full magazines, he went back to the living room, grabbing three aspirin and chasing it with another beer. The fridge and freezer were quiet, so he knew nothing was getting warm in there yet. He regretted not texting Julie to just go to the farm first, it would have shaved a few miles off of her trip. He guessed he was being selfish, wanting to see her first. The plan was to try for home first, if she couldn’t do that, she was to make her way to Highway 58 to Birchwood and then turn right down Georgetown Road, and make her way to the farm from there. Katie and Zack would be riding mountain bikes, except for two-year-old Kenna; she’d be riding in her trailer-seat. Fortunately, Katie lived close enough to the farm that she could be there in a couple of hours. If they’d started out soon after getting the text, they were likely already there.
Safer was an understatement; it was practically invisible. When he’d searched online for a home with land, he figured he’d get one with a house close to the road and work from there. That was not what he found when he got to Hopewell at all. If it hadn’t been for the for-sale sign, he would have missed the place entirely. When the realtor finally met them there, after calling twice to apologize for running late, they were led down a barely discernable dirt driveway back past a wooded area for what seemed like forever before they got to the house.
Brad was impressed immediately; the home, built in the mid-70’s, boasted some 3,500 square feet of living space that included four bedrooms and three full baths on the main floor and upstairs, a huge attic, and a fully finished basement that held two more bedrooms and another bath as well as another kitchen. The problem was that it had sat empty for years and needed a complete renovation. The realtor, a much gentler man with an apparent distaste for dust, apologized for the condition of the house. Brad shocked him by saying it was perfect. He made an offer of twenty thousand and was shocked himself when it was accepted. It had taken the better part of a year to get it back up to speed and improvements made. Nothing had to be done with the barn behind the house other than clean the attached shop up and stock it with tools. Julie had insisted on putting in another 500-pound propane tank, which were always kept full. The bonus part had been the acreage; 34 mostly wooded acres. There was a place where someone had once grown a garden, which would help with fresh vegetables. It was out far enough that there was a well and the mandatory wood burning fireplace. Brad had added wood burning stoves for both the upstairs and the basement and added a fake wall to the basement stairs, just in case they needed to go into hiding.
Three Days From Home Page 2