by West, Lee
“Did she win?”
“She sure did, because of the accident reconstructionist her attorney hired. The skid marks told the whole story of what caused the accident, and it wasn’t my granny. I learned a lot about what they do from the whole experience.”
They stood in the road, taking in their surroundings.
Finally Mike said, “We need to get off the main road. Let’s poke into the forest over here, near the mark. Maybe the entrance is concealed.”
They breached the dense tree line, which guarded the forest’s interior from the street. Tall thick trees stood sentry over the woods in a formidable line.
Once inside the forest, Joe said, “I’ll be damned. You’re right! Look over here.”
A wide dirt road snaked into the dark interior, its location concealed from the main road by tree branches. Someone had hung the branches from the existing trees in such a way as to create a visual screen from the road.
“Clever! They really don’t want to be found,” said Meg.
“Makes me wonder what sort of people we’ll find at the camp,” said Mike.
“Me too,” said Joe.
They walked down the dirt road in silence. The road curved through the woods, ending at a wrought-iron gate. The words “Better Way” were written on the arch of the gate.
Joe walked up to the gates and gave it a vigorous shake. Its sturdy locks didn’t budge.
“Better Way? Do you think this is it?” asked Meg.
“I’m not sure, but I’d like to know what’s inside,” said Joe.
— 15 —
Chet Flemming sat at his desk in the manager’s shed of the Better Way survivalist camp. He’d built the shed not because he thought he would need an office area to run his operation, but rather so everyone would know he was the boss. Others could not gain access to the manager’s shed unless he allowed it. The shed created enough separation between himself and his fellow campers to set him apart from them.
Chet had grown up on the property where the camp was now located and never intended to venture much farther away. However, at the age of thirty-six his mother kicked him out of the family home. The drugs and alcohol he constantly consumed finally caught up with him. He lost his driver’s license following his third driving while intoxicated conviction. Tired of watching the downward spiral, his mother said she could not live with someone so intent on pissing away his life.
With no place to go, Chet did the only thing he could. He survived. He took a small bundle of personal belongings, his stash of drugs, and as much alcohol as he could carry, and walked out. His mother owned over three hundred acres of land in the mountains. Her property abutted a forest owned by the Land Preservation Society, making her land feel even vaster. Without the benefit of a plan, he decided to head into nature, where he could use whatever substances he chose without the judgmental eye of either his mother or civilization.
Drunk and stoned, he trekked deep into the woods to find a place for himself. Soon he lost his way, unable to distinguish one tree from the next. Every attempt to get out of the vast forest resulted in him feeling even more lost. Without a tent or any real survival skills, he barely made it through the first winter. Constant starvation coupled with the freezing temperatures nearly drove him to the point of death. A tarp strung up between tree branches served as a makeshift tent. The only food he ate came entirely from the land.
Eventually, the drug and alcohol supply dwindled to nothing, leaving him stone-cold sober with the reality he’d haphazardly created. Those were the days that transformed him from a lost soul into the man he always knew he could become. Once his anger subsided, allowing him to think more clearly, he found himself. He created tools and then cut down trees to form a very rough log cabin. Soon after, he began to farm the land. Over time, he healed himself. The challenges of living alone with nature seemed to smooth out his rough edges and give him a previously unknown confidence.
After nearly seven years of living alone in the wild mountainous forest, he decided to once again search for home. He packed the few things he still possessed and headed out. The journey took several weeks. Finally, he picked the correct direction, managing to stumble upon his mother’s home.
His family house had changed dramatically since he had left. The lovingly cared for flower gardens now had a thick layer of weeds, making the beds blend seamlessly into the rest of the unkempt yard. The large wraparound deck, which his mother insisted on painting every summer, now looked warped, the paint chipping from every surface of the once pristine decking. He and his mother had loved to relax on the once beautiful deck, sipping lemonade and playing cards in an effort to beat the heat of summer.
A pile of weathered mail littered the entrance to the house. Someone had taped several letters addressed to him to the front door. He grabbed one, opening it quickly. A law firm had been trying to contact him for over two years. They regretted to inform him that his mother had passed away during his absence. The entire estate now belonged to him.
The news hit him hard. He dropped the letter and sat on the deck. He had not talked to anyone in years. The first communication with the outside world announced the death of his mother in the coldest terms possible. Nothing had changed while he retreated. The world would continue to kick him in the teeth at every turn.
Once he settled his mother’s estate, he lived on the farm, mostly keeping to himself. One day, he read an advertisement for a camp that claimed to teach people survival skills. The ad made him laugh out loud. He wondered how anyone could teach survival skills unless they’d actually survived. On a lark, he decided to attend one of the sessions, to test his skills against those of the instructors.
He knew the course would be basic compared to the knowledge he’d acquired in the wild. His skills had been honed from fighting for survival, not playing survivalist. The instructors worked hard to teach the attendees how to survive. However, the thin veneer of their knowledge would never stand up to the real challenges of raw survival. After leaving the school, he realized that he could monetize his vast survival skills.
He quickly set up the “Better Way Survival School.” Chet named it “Better Way” because he thought there could always be a better way of doing something. One just had to find it. Over time, he built a steady following of people eager to learn from him.
The land he inherited from his mother turned out to be perfect for the camp. The vast acreage and isolated location allowed him to really test people’s skills. He did everything right when setting up the camp. He even closely guarded its location. People taking his classes never knew the precise location of the camp. Instead, he had the group attendees assemble at a meeting spot in the city. From there, he picked them up in an old unmarked school bus. He purposely left the camp’s name off the bus in case anyone felt inclined to follow the group. He required everyone to don an eye mask as he drove to the camp. The mysterious location made the camp wildly popular.
Keeping the location a well-guarded secret ensured that his haven would not be overrun with people looking for help if something actually happened. Despite himself, over the years, he became close to several of the regular campers. Eventually, he allowed a few chosen people to know the exact location of the camp. If any crazy shit happened in the world, he would allow those select people to shelter with him. Anyone else who attempted to gain access to the camp would be killed immediately. In an emergency he could not afford to save everyone, and he knew it.
To Chet, the key component to survival in a crazy world involved being isolated from the events causing the mayhem. The few people he allowed into his sphere all understood the importance of maintaining the mystery of the camp’s location. Over the weeks since the incident, their resolve to keep the camp hidden had been tested several times as random people walked through the area seeking assistance. Anyone insisting on entering the camp by force met the same cold fate. Sitting in the manager’s shed, he felt proud of what he had built. The larger world might be going insane, but t
he small world of the camp he’d created never changed.
— 16 —
Joe searched his brain for anything Jeff might have said about the camp. Again he came up short. Jeff had never told him much about the camp other than that they would be there for several weeks in the summer.
“Do you think this is it?” asked Meg.
“I really don’t know.”
“Well, we can’t just stand here rattling the gate and yelling for them. I say we try to get in. Maybe the camp is farther in and they can’t hear us from here,” said Mike.
“I agree,” said Meg.
“Alright. Let’s see if we can walk around the fence. Maybe it ends at one of the sides. Or maybe there will be a less formidable gate somewhere along the perimeter,” said Joe.
The group left the dirt road for the forest. They followed the fence line for at least half a mile. The fence did not seem to end. Instead it followed the contours of the land, preventing outsiders from entering the camp’s vast grounds.
“This has to be the place. Why else would anyone fence in so much land way out here? Your brother and Kim are so paranoid, this has to be where they’re holing up among people who are equally paranoid,” said Meg.
“I think you might be right. If I wanted to be isolated during any sort of catastrophic event, this would be the place to do it. Based on what we’re seeing, I also don’t think there’s any reason to explore the second location we suspected could hold the camp, do you?”
“Not at all. This has to be the place,” said Meg.
“Maybe we should go back to the front gate and try either yelling louder or climbing it. There doesn’t seem to be an end to the fencing. I’d rather not get too deep into the forest. If they won’t open up and we can’t get in, then we need to consider leaving before it starts to get dark,” said Mike.
“I agree. I’d rather not be out here during the night,” said Meg.
“Okay, let’s go back. You’re right, maybe we can climb the fence at the entrance,” said Joe.
They walked back to the wrought-iron gates. Joe considered his options. He knew his climbing skills would be no match for the tall fence. In addition, the wrought-iron fence did not offer any handholds to grab while climbing over. Similarly, the tall fencing surrounding the camp had been crowned with barbed wire. There would be no way to effectively get through the fence without substantial wire-cutting tools.
“Maybe you guys could give me a lift up and over this thing. If I can reach the top of it, then I’ll be able to pull myself over,” said Joe.
***
“Chet? Chet? Sorry to bother you,” said a male voice softly.
Chet had told everyone not to bother him when he went to the manager’s shed. He needed a place all to himself where he would be sure none of the others would ever come in. Annoyed at the intrusion, he sighed and got up.
“What is it? You know I’d not supposed to be bothered when I’m in here!” said Chet angrily.
“Sorry about that. It’s just that there are people at the gate. They’re trying to get over the top,” said the slight man.
“So? You know the rule. No one gets in. We’ve dealt with this before. I don’t see what the problem is.”
“Jeff said one of the men is his brother.”
Jeff Birch was one of the guys whom Chet had hesitated to invite into the camp as a permanent resident in the case of a national emergency. The man had a way of getting under Chet’s skin. Despite not liking Jeff, he’d decided to invite the man and his wife, Kim, into the camp. Unlike her husband, Kim never got under his skin. In fact, at times Kim’s skin had been on his mind so much that he could barely concentrate on other things. He wanted the chance to have a go at her. Being her savior would go a long way to forging a bond between them.
His protection would be her aphrodisiac, although he did not think it would take too much effort on his part to get Kim away from her slack-jawed husband. Chet had not been in the woods long enough to forget how a woman looked at a man when she wanted him. Kim definitely gave off the vibe that she wanted Chet, and he’d noticed. She also preferred to barely cover her large breasts. Even if he never had the chance to bang Kim, the display brightened the mood of the men at camp. The importance of good morale could not be underestimated, in Chet’s opinion.
“Alright. I’ll be right out,” he said, closing the door.
The group had talked about what they would do if a family member showed up at the camp looking for refuge. Everyone had agreed that family would not be given any special treatment. It now seemed things had inexplicably changed for the men guarding the camp.
Jeff stood in the grass, waiting for Chet. The man’s simple face grimaced in anguish.
“You sure it’s your brother out there?” Chet asked.
“Yes. It’s him. Even from a distance I recognized him and his wife, Meg. I don’t know who the guy they’re with is.”
“There’s three of them out there?”
“Yes. I first saw them trying to get around the fence. Now they’re working on a way to go over the front gate.”
“You know the rules,” said Chet sternly.
“I do.”
Others had gathered around them, watching the exchange. All eyes watched as Chet played God with the lives of the three people outside their gate. Chet relished the moment of power. Kim walked over to the men, swaying her hips as she moved.
“Maybe we should talk to them. Find out what’s been happening out there. I’d sure like some news,” she said with a Southern twang. When she talked, she had a way of pulling her arms close to her ribs, pushing the mounds of her pale breasts outward, punctuating her speech. Chet loved to listen to her talk.
Chet considered her words and breasts for a long moment. He enjoyed the power his position gave him over Jeff. Openly looking at Kim’s breasts in front of her powerless husband gave Chet a jolt of exhilaration.
“Alright. Let ’em in.”
Chet reached around his thick neck for the chain that had been partially obscured by his shirt. He wore the key to the front gate padlock around his neck for safekeeping. Although he never let anyone have the key, he would rather let the key off his person for a few minutes than run all the way to the gate. Jeff bowed slightly when accepting the key, then took off running toward the entrance.
— 17 —
Larry watched the main drive to the campus with as much enthusiasm as he could manage. He routinely volunteered for watch, claiming that he desired to help as much as possible. Everyone at the camp pegged him for a tough but gentle sort of person. He let them believe the stories they made up about him. Helping their joint cause could not have been further from his mind when he volunteered for watch. He had his own reasons for watching the main entrance.
Anyone wandering off the street and onto the campus would have to pass in front of him. Locating himself at the first watch position ensured that he could manage who entered the campus. So far, he’d only encountered people coming either one or two at a time, allowing him to dispatch them easily.
Glancing at his watch, he realized he only had another hour before the next person relieved him. During the day, only one person sat at each watch station. At night, each station had two people on duty. The buddy system helped keep the watchers watching and not sleeping, for the most part. When couples went on watch together, Larry assumed they would use the opportunity for other things, making them the least effective people for the duty.
He stood, stretching in an attempt to get the kinks out of his strong back. Turning back to the entrance, he saw a short thin man walking onto the school grounds. He quickly ran toward the stairs, taking two at a time to get to the man before he managed to get much farther onto campus. If the man moved beyond the corner of the old student union, he would be visible to other watchers. Larry needed to stop him before that happened.
“Hey there!” he shouted to the lone man.
“Hello! Wow. Am I glad to see you,” said the man.
“Where’re you coming from?”
“Been in the city and decided to head for the mountains. I wasn’t sure I’d find anyone up here. Things are crazy down there.”
“Were you in one of the government-run camps?” asked Larry.
The man pushed up his sleeve, displaying his arm tag. “Sure was. I just got out yesterday. I felt like I needed a break from the city. I’m not sure I thought it through well enough. There’s really nothing out here. I planned on returning to the city if there was no one up here.”
“Come with me. I’ll show you where everyone is. We have our main fortress just this way,” said Larry, leading the man away from campus.
“You guys aren’t using the school for shelter?” asked the man.
Larry walked closely behind the man. Once they passed behind the student union’s old stone façade, he made his move. Before the man knew what had happened, Larry got behind him. With the precision of a trained killer, Larry wrapped a thin metal wire around the man’s neck and pulled tight. The muscles in his immense arms bulged as he increased the pressure on the man’s neck. The man desperately clawed at Larry’s arms, to no avail. The man’s meager musculature never stood a chance against Larry’s brute strength.
Once the man stopped twitching, Larry loosened the wire. The man’s body fell to the ground in a crumpled bundle.
He grabbed one of the man’s feet and yanked. Dragging the corpse to the forest had always been his least favorite part of standing watch.
After taking time to clean up, Larry returned to his watch-standing post. Less than twenty minutes later, Robin, a student at the university, came to relieve him.
“Hey, Larry! Anything new happening out there?” she said cheerily as she walked into the room.
“Not a thing. It’s been really quiet.”