Blackout: Still Surviving

by Boyd Craven III

  “Not that I saw, sir. The other two are going through the kitchen now before the rest. Walking back here though, I saw a freshly planted garden I think.”

  “Is it ready to pick?” the commander asked.

  “Not that I saw, sir, but I don’t know anything about farming—”

  Foghorn had enough and had leaped/flew into the air, his wings beating as he tried to spike the man in the doorway who stumbled into view. Dave started chuckling and walked over to him and made a big swatting motion, his cupped hand hitting Foghorn in the side, sending him skittering away.

  “Damn things… Reckon they any good to eat?” the young soldier asked, stepping into view.

  “I wouldn’t,” Dave said to both of them, “old roosters and hens aren’t good eating unless you’re going to stew them. They probably left a hanging feeder in the tree line and let the birds out to fend for themselves till they come back here.”

  “You know our orders,” the commander said, but there was something in his voice; it was as if he didn’t like what he was saying but only doing so with great reluctance.

  “I do, and I think they’re full of shit,” Rolston said. “But we got to do what we got to do, to rebuild.”

  “Who’s this Jessica?” the commander asked, taking the note from the other soldier.

  “She’s that lady friend I was talking about,” Dave said. “Her folks headed out two days ago with her.”

  “How do you know?” the commander asked, turning toward him.

  “It was over dinner and a bottle of wine,” Dave said with a coy grin.

  My face burned and when Grandpa reached across Grandma and put his hand on my wrist, only then did I realize I was grinding my teeth. I relaxed and took a deep breath slowly so I didn’t make any noise. The commander made a noncommittal sound and then started walking to the stalls on the left side, opening them one by one. One of the last things I’d done was take all the locks off. I had somewhat of a surprise in my stall where I had been storing my preps, but the fifth stall where we ran shine was cleaned out thoroughly, the turkey burners up in the piles of junk and old appliances that littered the right side of the barn.

  “Got some scratch feed here,” the commander said.

  “How much?” Dave asked.

  “Two bags, hundred pounds.”

  “It’s for the chickens. They must be expecting to come back,” Dave offered.

  “You and I both know better. I’m not going to waste time for a couple bags. Want to leave one open and the barn open a crack in case the chickens get desperate?”

  “Not a bad idea,” Dave said and disappeared for a moment, coming back out with one of the full bags in his arms.

  We watched as the two of them supervised Dave, but I couldn’t see what he was doing. Opening the bag, I figured. I heard footsteps and turned, looking back out the crack and saw two camo’d legs approaching the doorway.

  “House looks pretty cleaned out. Like they left and think they might come back someday. No guns, so we don’t have to worry about that. The food they have inside would fit inside a small shoebox, sir,” one of the men said almost underneath us.

  “That’s what we’re finding more and more. People are moving on. Well, go ahead and leave what little food there is. I see this place has a hand pump for a well, so hopefully, if this family does come back, they won’t starve. Not worth taking the chickens, is it?”

  “No,” Dave’s voice drifted up to us. “Chickens are some of the nastiest creatures on God’s green earth. The only thing they’re good for is keeping the mosquito and tick population in check… but they shit everywhere.”

  “All right then. We have two more families to visit. Let’s head on out and see if we can help anyone else.”

  I saw through the crack that they all approached the vehicles. All but one. I turned and saw Deputy Rolston walk into the center of the barn, turning a full circle and looking around. He looked up for a second, right at our hiding place, but his head moved again, looking out the barn doorway.

  “You coming, deputy?” the commander called.

  “You bet,” he called back loudly.

  He paused under the doorway and slid the door partially shut before saying in a quiet voice, “Lay low for three more days, and they’ll be moving out of the area.”

  I could hear him clearly, but I doubted anybody else could. He wasn’t fooled by our hiding spot, and he’d seen the coop had been moved. He’d had to have. He’d been out here before we’d moved things around. What side was he on if he was helping round people up, and why were they doing it? Dave walked at a brisk pace back to the idling Hummer and got in, taking his wide-brimmed hat off before the door slammed shut.

  Despite my pounding heart, I had one question left unanswered… how had the dog got up here?

  19

  I couldn’t sit still, and my grandparents talked themselves into going ahead and staying in the house where it was more familiar and comfortable. I had been ready to set up a tarp shelter like I would as a kid and we’d camp out for two or three days, coming back to the house late at night, long after dark. Nope, they went about things as if nothing had happened. We did make sure to leave things as they were as much as possible. I would be the one who went outside with Raider more often, though. Grandma was feeling the strain and was napping a lot. Grandpa would take a nip of the corn liquor before bedtime to help him sleep. Other than that, I spent three days walking the property with Raider.

  He was getting good and listening to my commands, and when a rabbit popped up in front of us, he almost bolted but looked up at me.

  “Go get him,” I said, and he took off like a shot.

  I grinned as he took off, a volley of excited barks punctuating his sheer joy of the chase. There was no way he was going to run down the rabbit, it was fast and running in a circle—

  “You got him!” I shouted as he came up to me, the squirming bundle of fur in his jaws.

  He sat in front of me and lowered his head slightly. Confused, I reached forward, and he opened his mouth. I hadn’t expected him to give it to me, so the rabbit hit the ground running, and Raider took back off after it. He was determined, and it took him longer this time, but the rabbit tried to make a button hook turn and was going too fast. My four-footed buddy snagged him behind the head before he could sail past it and gave him one good shake before turning back to me.

  The rabbit was still squirming, but I could tell this time he hadn’t been as gentle as he’d been the first time, and he was also making a low guttural sound, warning me not to drop it. I made sure I had my hand on it before he released it. I broke its neck, and he barked once, happily.

  “That was pretty amazing footwork, buddy,” I told him.

  Raider chuffed and rubbed his head against my leg. I petted him with my free hand and started walking toward the house.

  “Rabbit stew, I wish I would have thought of sending your dog hunting,” Grandpa said, his spoon making a tinkling sound in his bowl as he tried to scrape the last of it in.

  “It was very timely. We didn’t have to move the coop,” Grandma said smiling.

  “Raider’s full of surprises,” I agreed. “Here’s your part buddy,” I put the meat of a hind leg and shoulder meat with some broth on the floor for him.

  He went to work like he was starving like he had been when we’d found him. He ate regular and somehow the soldiers hadn’t even mentioned the three bags of dog food I’d left in the house, instead of the rest I’d squirreled away in the root cellar. I hadn’t gone to great lengths to hide it, and I knew in hard times pensioners sometimes ate dog or cat food after soaking it. It sounded like they had been rounding up people and provisions, but the radio had gone silent that last day and there were no new updates. That had made me think of the laminated sheet the guardsman had handed us before hurrying us along.

  It laid out a simple plan, much of which Jessica had explained. People from rural areas were to be relocated into the cities, and FEMA camps had
been set up for them to stay in. More than once I kicked myself for not learning about Ham Radio and other alternate forms of communication. Raider barked once, and I looked down to see he’d finished his bowl. I smiled and gave him a little bit of mine, my stomach too sour with worry to eat much. It was like living under a death sentence. The sound of a motor would send us scrambling.

  “You know, in another day or two, you ought to head into town with your mutt and go see that pretty lady,” Grandpa said, pointing at me with his spoon.

  “I’m going to head toward town, but I think she’s going to be in hiding for a bit,” I told him.

  “I figured. Not knowing what’s going on is driving me crazy.”

  “Driving you? Honey, you’ve already been—”

  “Don’t you sass me, woman,” Grandpa said, turning the spoon in her direction.

  I busted up when a wedge of cornbread went sailing, seemingly disintegrating as it hit the tip of Grandpa’s nose. He used both hands brushing at his face, the spoon clattering to the floor. Raider was over in a flash, inhaling the dropped cornbread as Grandma looked my way, grinning. Raider was done in seconds and then stopped in front of his freshly emptied bowl of rabbit.

  “Want to go for a walk?” I asked him.

  He barked happily and wagged his tail three times and then spun in a circle, running to the door.

  “You better get him out of here,” Grandma said. “When your Grandpa quits sputtering, he’s going to say some words that Raider’s virgin ears shouldn’t hear.”

  “I… You…”

  I left in a hurry, holding the door open long enough for Raider and me to dart through. The nights had gotten darker, and the Northern Lights no longer lit the sky. It wasn’t dark yet, but it wouldn’t be long. I wondered how things were in town. In every book I’d read about prepping and the power going out, people seemed to riot, loot, and steal any and all food they could. In fictional stories, women and children became a commodity to be traded by sickos. The last time I’d been in town, when the guard was there, there was nothing of the sort. It was quiet, subdued. I hadn’t seen many people, but none of them looked like they had grown fangs and gone all cannibalistic.

  “We have to figure out if the guard is gone first,” I said to nobody and touched my side, feeling the pistol there under my shirt.

  Raider made a chuffing sound and ran ahead of me, sniffing at the ground, his tail wagging. I hoped another rabbit jumped up. They were out of season, but I had a feeling nobody was going to be coming along checking my hunting license. This was bad, but things could be worse. Where were the zombified bikers waiting to beat down our doors for our food?

  I headed up the driveway and called Raider close to me. When I got to the top of the hill that the road ran on, I looked in both directions as far as I could see. Nothing but buzzing and flying insects, half of which wanted to suck my blood. I decided to head toward my old stomping grounds and work off some old nervous energy. I headed across the street and started climbing up again until I reached a ridge and then headed down the other side. The tree line opened up suddenly and the plowed area of the crater of diamonds laid before me.

  The earth hadn’t been turned by a plow or disk since the last rain, and weeds were starting to grow in the edges. I could see the welcome center at the far end of my sight, being up higher, and the wash stations below where you took your dirt and a series of sieves and worked the material until you had sorted it into even smaller material. All the while, checking on diamonds. Then you took a Sirouc and panned the fine dirt looking for diamond flecks. You had a better chance of finding diamonds that way than you did large ones. Still, large diamonds were found quite a bit, and I’d found one about ten years back.

  That was the one that had got our well pump fixed, our septic system updated, and the new tin on the roof. Rough uncut diamonds weren’t worth a ton, but when you found enough of them and found something that had the potential to be a pretty nice cut, you could sell them on the sly. The water station and welcome center wasn’t what had my attention, though. It was the dozen or so RVs and half a dozen towed campers and tents that were set up at the far end of the welcome center. The heavier RVs had kept to the pavement it looked like, but at this distance, I couldn’t be sure.

  Several of the campers had been pulled into a line. The parking lot was devoid of trucks, but I could see chrome tinkling in the far tree line to the left of the welcome center as light reflected off something,

  “I’m not sure this is good news,” I whispered to Raider.

  He made a chuffing sound and started sniffing the edge of the tree line, not breaking cover. I saw a figure walk away from the wash station, carrying two buckets. I could see them struggling with the weight, and I wished I had brought my rifle or a pair of binoculars so I could see more. Then I remembered I’d put my phone in my pocket earlier in the day. I pulled it out, not surprised to see that I still had no signal, but I turned on my camera app and then zoomed in as much as I could. It took me a ten count to find the figure in the phone's screen. It was a woman, judging by the shapely hips and long hair, but that was all I could make out. Zooming this much made things pixelated and blurry.

  “Let’s go back home, boy, remember to be quiet.”

  Raider chuffed at me and turned, nose to the ground, walking in the direction we’d come up.

  The wind-up alarm clock went off, scaring the bejesus out of me. I turned it off and slid off the bed. I headed into the bathroom and heard a lighter flick in my grandparents’ room across from it. An old alcohol lamp lit up, and I heard a rustling. I hit the button to flush the toilet before remembering the well pump wasn’t on. I sighed and decided to leave it. If it’s yellow, it’s mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down.

  “You don’t have to go out there tonight,” Grandpa said softly from the other side of the door.

  “Yes I do,” I told him, opening the door.

  He grunted then turned back toward his bed.

  “Raider, you stay with them,” I called.

  From the darkness of my room, he padded out on quiet feet and sat down in front of me. I pointed at the bedroom.

  “You sleep with them tonight, I won’t be back until Foghorn starts going nuts.”

  He made a grumbling sound in his chest and walked into my grandparents’ room.

  “Get up here, you flea bit mongrel,” Grandpa growled.

  Raider let his tongue hang out a minute, then jumped up on the bed next to him. He blew out the lamp, leaving me night blind.

  20

  I went in the same way, but this time I was wearing the outfit I’d been using off and on for my night hunts. Despite the shine, sometimes we had to choose to either eat or fill the propane tank, leaving us to scrounge food wise. I’d used this outfit and my .25/270 to take lots of game out of season. Grandpa’s rifle had become mine when he’d started getting too wobbly to do long hunts. I was in black and gray wool coveralls; hot and itchy, but it was quiet in the woods. The new cotton blends and anything with nylon would make a scraping, scratching sound when pushing through brush, but not wool.

  It was hot in them, but that was the reason I was mostly bare underneath. I had socks and my boots on, of course, and a belt around my waist where I had my canteen clipped. With the wool on, I was going to sweat. I had a small pair of binoculars hanging from my neck, and the rifle over my shoulder. I didn’t think I’d need to use it, but better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. It was a flat shooting gun, and one of Grandpa’s buddies had threaded the barrel for him. I had the suppressor Grandpa had for it in one pocket, but it was mostly so I could keep both gun and suppressor together, rather than separate them.

  I was planning on walking just inside the tree line and make my way over to the area near where the RVs and campers were parked. I could see several campfires, and when the wind was right, I could hear hooting and hollering. I was going to work my way around counter clockwise and start where I’d seen the light reflecting
off the bumper of a truck. It took me twenty minutes to get to the spot where I’d first spotted them, and I figured it’d take me an hour to work my way around unless I got bold and went off through the clearing. I wasn’t feeling bold.

  The bugs tried to get me through the overalls but found little success in getting my hands and neck. I had on a boonie hat, pulled low, so they seemed to especially focus in on my face. I held my cursing to a minimum, especially when I figured I was getting close to where I’d seen the flash. I moved a branch out of the way and saw in the sliver of moonlight a dozen trucks backed into a small clearing that had been hacked out of the thin undergrowth. The one closest to me was a familiar sight.

  He’d pushed my bumper from the left, and when I’d juked my wheel hard to the right to take the shoulder, Lance had become committed. His passenger side was even worse than I remembered. The dent in the door looked like it might make it inoperable and scratches and red paint was scraped along his finish. At least I hoped it was red paint because, in the moonlight, it looked like dried blood. Further down the line was a darker colored truck with a topper on it. It was rocking gently. I took a deep breath and moved deeper into the brush and walked behind the trucks.

  Somebody was in the one with the topper, that I was for sure of. I walked slowly, so slowly I couldn’t hear my own footsteps. I was almost past the truck with the topper when I heard a feminine voice cry out. Adrenaline dropped buckets of ice in my veins, and I moved closer to the clearing they had hacked out. Was somebody in trouble? I willed myself to be as silent and invisible as possible and approached the topper from an angle, hoping not to silhouette myself in the windows. Right away I could see what was going on and backed away, grinning to myself.

  When I’d first got my license, I’d learned every back road in the area. There was an old logging road, not the one Jessica had talked about, but another one west of here that I had found. I was curious about it because it was down a two track that was well worn and used. It wasn’t until once at night when I went out there that I realized it was the local make out spot. That’s what I found here, except a little more X-Rated. I shook my head and started moving toward the rest of the vehicles backed in. I was surprised to see half a dozen Harleys parked there. It looked like somebody had thrown a tarp over them, but in the minimal wind, it had blown halfway off. They should have secured it.