Blackout: Still Surviving

by Boyd Craven III

  “Yeah, despite his family heritage, he seems like a good one. Young, stupid, and in way over his head.”

  “That was my impression of him too,” I admitted and then walked over and poured myself a glass of water.

  “Mom and I checked out the farm. It looks like a couple of campers had been pulled near the large hay barn he’s got. We saw a handful of kids running around the field and near the barn and house,” Jessica said.

  “Tell ‘em about the old man!” Grandpa said.

  “Well, he seemed to be everywhere. He’s spry for being older than your grandpa. He was looking for something.”

  “Or someone?” I mused quietly.

  There were long shared looks, and it confirmed what I’d been dreading.

  “You think—”

  “Don’t go thinking, boy,” Grandpa said. “Over thinking always got you into trouble as a kid.”

  I grinned at that; I had been a curious kid. The family business had led me into chemistry, one of my second most fond things I could remember growing up. When I was too young to moonshine, I’d searched for diamonds. Now? That had been taken away from me too. It was enough to drive a guy to drink.

  “We’re going to head back to our compound,” Jessica said, “But we’ll have a team out here watching the large group at the park.”

  “You know,” I said to her, “I still owe you that date.”

  Linda cleared her throat, and Raider looked up at her sharply.

  “We will,” she said, taking the radio off her hip and handed it to me. “This will probably reach the camp. It’s been reprogrammed to work on the frequencies we use. We will keep in contact.” Then she reached into a cargo pocket and pulled out a 12v car charger. “Battery should last a few days, but it’ll need to be charged. I’m not sure—”

  “I’ve got a small solar setup on top of the barn out of sight, I won’t have to run the car,” I told her.

  “Oh, that’s good! I was worried—”

  “We really have to get going,” Lyle said.

  We said our goodbyes, and I put the radio on the kitchen counter. I watched as they all filed into the barn. Les was still shaken, but he was out there as well. The diesel motor fired up, and the decommissioned military truck backed out, its tail lights the only thing providing the glow. They turned around, and Les got into his Suburban and fired it up.

  Bright lights lit the night, and after a moment, the headlamps on the big truck came on as well. They had planned on going out in the dark, but Les must have had an automatic switch on his Suburban. He gave us a wave and followed the truck to the end of the driveway. They turned, and I watched as they left. We stood there a while, and then I took my seat in the dark, listening to the rise and fall of the motors as they climbed and went down the hills.

  “You look like you need this,” Grandpa said, handing me his flask and taking Grandma’s seat next to me.

  Raider made a chuffing noise and walked in front of me, rubbing his head on my knees. I took the cap off and took a healthy swig. I could taste the sweetness of the corn, feel the burn of the liquor, and tried to clear my mind. I handed him the flask back and sat there.

  “She’ll be back,” Grandma said, taking Grandpa’s seat.

  “I know. I’m just thinking about the farm, those kids…” I said.

  “What you going to do about it?” Grandma asked.

  “I think I’m going to dig my bicycle out of the barn and sneak down there with Raider,” I admitted.

  26

  I’d forgotten the sheer joy of riding a bike. The gentle wind against my face, my hair blowing away from my eyes and the quiet swish, swish sound as I pumped the pedals. I didn’t know if there were more there that Jessica’s team hadn’t seen, but I had to know for myself. I had come light with the camo netting from the barn attic - minus the soiled hay - a pack with two days’ worth of food I could eat without cooking, my canteen, binoculars, a LifeStraw, a basic first aid kit and my pistol.

  The plan was to hide my bike in the woods before the farm and then spend some time hiding out and watching things. The life I’d ended haunted me in my uneasy dreams. It had been a couple nights before I made this trip. I’d waited this long, seeing if Lance’s crew would come around looking. I even snuck to the edge and watched them from afar for a couple hours. I didn’t see any of Jess’s group watching, and I didn’t see any more beatings or torture. I’d decided to find out once and for all if the farm needed help or there were more guys there, holding them somehow.

  I’d already seen an ugly slice of humanity, and not knowing really bothered me. I felt bad bringing Raider with me, but I needed him on this trip. Plus, my grandparents had suggested he needed some more exercise and training with me. I thought about the moonshine I had stored in the basement. It was watered down to proof, but it wouldn’t take me long to rerun it and get the stronger stuff that they needed to clean and run their engines. Grandpa and I stopping out to ask for help did two things, both for them and us. The Guthrie’s had been rescued, and they’d got a lift to near where they’d stashed an almost bulletproof vehicle. I just hoped their diesel stores didn’t go bad the way their gas had.

  I was starting to get close and started counting telephone poles. Like what had happened by our house, some lines were completely down as if they were burned through. There were some charred spots in the grass, but the fire hadn’t spread like it almost had at our farm. I was pondering that when I saw a break in the trees that denoted the start of the hay farm as I crested a hill. Raider had his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, easily keeping up with me.

  I found a good spot and slowed to a stop and got off the bike. Raider barked once, happily.

  “Shhhhh, we’ve got to be quiet boy,” I let my furry buddy know.

  He chuffed, and I pushed my bike into the woods. I found a likely spot, my ears prickled for anything or anybody. Raider just sat there, so I wasn’t worried; he would have alerted me if he’d heard anything. I pulled tall grass and old leaves and covered it up as best as I could. Then I started my walk towards the break in the tree line. Today, I’d dressed in my poacher's outfit, my camo blending into the late summer growth. I made the edge and looked out, then ducked.

  There were three kids walking the tree line, bending over and getting something, then putting their hands to their mouths.

  “Quiet boy,” I told Raider and got down.

  My dog looked at me in alarm, but I was already pulling my pack off. I got the camo netting out and used some rough bark on one tree about knee high to hang one end of the net.

  “Under here,” I said, pointing.

  Raider just looked at me, head cocked. I sighed in frustration and pushed my pack under the netting and then crawled in. Raider just looked at me a moment longer and crawled in. I pulled on the edge of the net, breaking the finger of bark off, dropping both of us underneath it. In a way, I felt like Harry Potter underneath his magical cloak, but I was way too mature to say that out loud. My decision not to run was based on making too much noise. In a split second, I’d reverted to my poaching mindset. You could often evade farmers and possum sheriffs by hunkering in place and letting the searchers go right past you. That was what I was going to do now.

  Raider belly crawled, so he was near the edge of the netting. I could feel his hot breath on my cheek.

  “Shhh,” I whispered.

  I could hear the girls now.

  “…more of them over here, Lilly,” one of them said, running my direction.

  I held my breath, only remembering to let it out slowly.

  “Look, these bushes are full of the ripe ones!” another little girl said.

  A third girl ran into my line of sight. They all fell upon the briars I’d been avoiding. They were thin, and scratched up on the arms and bare parts of their legs. Their dresses were clean but well worn. Their hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a while, but it had been brushed out. As soon as a berry was picked, it went right in their mouths. There
was a thin look to them, and with a start, I realized that although they were similar in age, they weren’t sisters.

  It was surreal to make that observation with them twenty feet away and me invisible to the world.

  “Momma said she hopes nobody mean comes by,” a girl maybe eight with blonde pigtails said.

  “Grandpa says we don’t get to worry about that, Laney,” the third one replied.

  “You’re just all worried because your little brother got you all scared,” Laney snapped back.

  “I’m just hungry,” the one I hadn’t heard a name for said, wrapping her arms around her middle.

  Something in me broke. Something was bubbling up in my chest that I’d long been holding back. I pulled the net from me slowly and sat up. Raider looked at me like I was crazy. Laney caught sight of the movement, and she went still as if rooted in place in shock.

  “Mister…” she said finally, making the other two look at me.

  “I’m not a mean one,” I said out loud.

  They looked like they wanted to run, but either it was the sight of the candy bar I’d pulled out of my pack or Raider made them hesitate. I tossed the candy bar in their direction, and it hit the ground between them. They pounced and I went digging in my pack in alarm. I threw my last one between them which ended up in another wrestling match.

  “Stop, I’ve got food,” I told them. “You can split the two candy bars I got between the three of you.”

  Raider barked once in agreement and wonder of all wonders, they stopped.

  “Momma said don’t take candy from strangers,” a tear-streaked girl said, the one who’d ended up without a candy bar.

  “I’m just here to see how things are going,” I told her. “Are you kids ok?”

  “Things really suck,” Lilly piped up, breaking her chocolate bar in half and giving it to the unnamed girl.

  “Yeah, we don’t got lots of food, and Grandpa said his tractor is shot to shit,” Laney piped up.

  I pulled out the rest of the food I had. Grandma had been feeding her sourdough since I was knee high to a grass hopper. I broke a loaf in half and held it out. All three girls, now eating chocolate, started walking near. I jerked my hand back when Raider tried to reach out to take it.

  “This is for them,” I scolded. “Sit.” Which he did.

  “Is your doggy nice? I’m Mary,” the third girl said through a mouthful.

  “Yes, Miss Mary,” I told her. “Are your parents here?”

  “We’re not supposed to answer those kind of questions,” Lilly piped up.

  “What I mean is… We had bad guys come through in this area. You got somebody to protect you, don’t you?” I asked.

  They nodded. “Grandpa,” Laney answered and took the half loaf and started breaking it up.

  “Ok, and nobody is holding your families hostage?” I asked.

  “What’s that mean?” Mary asked.

  “It means does somebody have us like slaves, stupid,” Lilly snapped back.

  “Oh no… just us. And our dads and moms.”

  “Well, it used to be our dads,” Laney said. “Do you think the bad guys got them?”

  “I don’t know, the guys I saw were on four wheelers,” I answered truthfully, hoping my honestly would win their trust.

  I already felt bad for startling and scaring them, and they looked a few meals away from the beginning stages of starvation, so sharing food and information was well worth it to me.”

  “Was one of them a big blue one?” Lilly asked.

  “Yes?” I said, remembering the one I’d pushed into the barn.

  “Mister, have you seen our daddies? They went missing a few days back. Did somebody steal their four wheelers?” Mary asked.

  My vision swam, and I felt faint. Raider leaned into me, lending me his courage and strength.

  --The End--

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  About the Author

  About The Author –

  Boyd Craven III has penned over 20 books over the last two years, only recently deciding to take the plunge into publishing. His "The World Burns" Series has hit the top 10 in the Dystopian Genre in the USA, the UK, Canada and Australia. Boyd has made his home in Michigan with his wonderful wife and about a million kids, but travels to Texas to visit family as frequently as possible.

  He hunts and goes fishing when he's not dreaming up post-apocalyptic nightmares to put his characters through. Fear not though, Boyd is a huge believer that in the darkest hour, there is always a glimmer of hope to hold onto.

  In addition to being a modern day urban farmer, Boyd belongs to a co-op selling at the local farmers market, and lately has been experimenting with living off the grid - an excellent way to research for his series, as well as torture his teenage sons.

  Prepare yourself by reading his books - they're a thrill ride, on or off the grid.

  http://www.amazon.com/Boyd-Craven-III/e/B00BANIQLG/

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