Our End Of The Lake: Surviving After The 2012 Solar Storm (Prepper Trilogy)

by Ron Foster

  “I will go you one better than that, I will get my 20gauge and ride shotgun,” he said laughing and going for another pull on the rope to get us each another beer.

  “David, I got a proposition for you.” he said looking at me determinably

  “I am listening.” I said.

  “Let’s go get that weatherman over there to help.” he said rising and waving at the neighbor on the opposite side of the slue, who had just appeared and was looking in our direction. “Hey!” He yelled over to the man, while waving his hands and gesturing for him to come to the edge of the water, so they could hear each other.

  “I need your help moving some firewood, can you help?” he called back across the water.

  “I can ride my bike over later.” the man reluctantly called back.

  “We got a tractor that runs!” Bernie yelled gleefully back.

  “Do what?” the perplexed man called back.

  “Hang on a minute.” Bernie yelled, then to me, “David, can you fire that thing up and pull it around the house so he can see?” Bernie asked me while yelling out again, “Just a minute!” to his near, but far neighbor.

  “That thing’s cantankerous, but I will get it going.” I said hurrying towards it.

  “Just sit tight over there. I got something to show you.” Bernie hollered back across water as the other guy made a motion towards his gazebo and headed that way to take a seat and wait for the unknown surprise.

  Bernie headed over my way to watch me sweating over cranking the old beast. He was pretty good about not offering too much advice and when it fired up he hopped on the fender beside me, just like he had done the same thing a hundred times before, and pointed towards the backyard of Jenny’s cabin. As we rounded the house I could see the man had already heard the thing and had jumped up and was beckoning for us to come on over looking like an overzealous sports fan.

  “Be there soon!” Bernie tried to holler back to no avail and just waved the guy back to his house.

  “Let me get my shotgun and grab the rest of the beer and we can go over there.” he said dismounting.

  Bernie came back and climbed up in the trailer and situated himself, while I put the beer in an empty tool box welded to the frame on the side of the engine.

  “All set.” Bernie hollered and I liked to have took the poor guy of his feet, as I released the clutch and brake and headed up the drive way.

  “Sorry!” I yelled to non-hearing ears behind me and gunned it up the hill causing him to lurch again.

  I thought I heard, ‘slow down’, and adjusted the throttle to a more moderate speed and looked back at Bernie holding on for dear life with his shotgun constantly falling off his small framed shoulder as we hit ruts in the road.

  ‘You can’t drive worth a shit!’ I think he was mouthing at me, as I slowed and pointed to a turn up ahead to the right, just nodding his head and too fearful to let go of the trailers side rails to make a hand gesture, but looking like he was having a ball. Every time I would have to hit a pothole, that trailer with no weight on it would jump in the air and the little 95 lb man would go airborne a few inches, no matter what speed I was going.

  We turned in front of the weatherman’s house with a cloud of dust, even though I was going slowly, the trailer rose up one wheel as the other side lurched over a pothole, and the whole frame of the cheap trailer did a flexing jig to accommodate it. I was doing the shut down process on my rig and Bernie had already hopped out of the trailer and gave me a nasty look as he went to greet his friend, who had barely had a chance to vacate an expensive looking cast iron ornate plantation chair.

  Donnie looked quite interested, but very confused about the circus sideshow that had just arrived in his front yard and turned speechlessly to his attractive, but equally dumbfounded wife who was exiting out the front door searching for the source of the racket she’d heard from inside.

  I finally killed the engine to an instantaneous silence and was looking over at the group standing on the front porch with Bernie grinning, and Donnie’s wife motioning at my hair, to remove some leaves and debris I had picked up on the way exiting the narrow driveway at Jenny’s place.

  “This is David.” said Bernie trying to straighten his appearance and move his bangs back over his sweating bald spot and gesturing for me to come on.

  “ How come that things still running.” she said taking in my dirty blue T-shirt cut off sleeved looking affair with dress pants and worn out dress shoes. “You said nothing runs.” accursedly at her husband who was regaining his composure.

  “I didn’t think anything would.” he stammered as Bernie encouraged him forward with a hand on his back to shake my hand.

  “David Dupree.” I stated presenting a grimy and sweaty palm.

  “I am Donnie and this is Lisa.” he said pointing at her and flinching, as I squeezed his hand in an honorable firm hand shake, noting how he started wiping his own on his shorts afterwards unconsciously. I didn’t even try to shake his wife’s hand, who was looking horrified at the prospect of taking this stinky wretch’s hand.

  “Look, I made prospect to Dave to help us get wood in for the winter, if you would help us.” said Bernie latching a hold of the yuppies arm and turning him around.

  “He is going to allow us to haul some wood on his trailer, if you and Lisa help.” he said pointedly and reattached his grasp to a totally confused Lisa and led her back towards the shade of the porch and the wrought iron bench beside the chairs.

  “Now hear me out.” he said sitting the debutante down on the bench and taking a place next to her while Donnie and I took up individual chairs. “If David agrees to my deal, we can raid a couple of vacant houses for already chopped and seasoned firewood and be ready for winter!” he said looking around his audience for agreement.

  “It’s the middle of July!” the couple started to object, before the realization of their plight started to sink in and Bernie was allowed to continue uninterrupted.

  “I got 5 silver dollars and a BUCK Knife, for three hours worth of work, David. And I know which homes to hit, because Roland’s pulp wood crews service most folks around here and been buying firewood off him for years.” he said in my direction quite satisfied with his plan, but waiting for my counter negotiation.

  “How much wood do you figure we can collect in three hours?” I said remembering he had lessons from the horse trading Stiles clan and not appreciating what kind of efforts my dubious helpers were willing to produce.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe a few cords.” he countered looking obviously expectant. I started to tell him he was crazy to expect that much work out of this crew, before Lisa started babbling about stealing. Not doing that kind of work, and just wait for FEMA to fix her life etc. before Donnie said they needed a private conference and went back inside the house to confer.

  “I made you a fair offer David.” an unpleased Bernie advised heading towards the tractor to grab the beer and leaving me to consider just what the hell I was getting into.

  “ I can go six pieces of silver, the Buck knife, and if I got any ammo for it, that gun you got hid about as well as the hooters in a wet T shirt contest.” he said causing me to reflect and look at my waistline.

  “It ain’t the money buddy.” I started to say, but then Lisa and Donnie came out the front door again looking resigned and not happy with me or my presence.

  “I am willing to help, but I got to get going soon. We grab what we can in a couple hours and I’ll just accept the Buck knife.” I countered to Bernie.

  “Well, I guess it’s not fair to keep you, seeing as how you got your own family to go look out for.” Bernie said resignedly.

  “I suggest we start at the furthest house and work our way back.” I said standing up and getting ready to try to push the crew to quicker activity and headed for the tractor.

  Except for having to drive very slowly so nobody fell off the stacked wood, the trip was uneventful. Bernie had a general idea of who would not be on the lake thi
s time of year, and the few people we saw just look surprised or scared at our appearance of hauling wood amidst this hot summer day and chaos.

  Bernie looked at me for a moment and said “David, you think you will get back up this way? You said something about maybe bugging out to the lake if it got too bad in Montgomery.”

  “I am thinking it’s highly possible, would you mind me taking over Jenny’s place, if they are not here when I get back? I said while resurveying the place.

  “You are always welcome Dave; there are plenty of empty houses around, if they do show up. I know I would like for you to come back, David.” he said hoping for the best.

  “I might see you come the fall, possibly.” and I left it at that, while wondering if it might not be sooner.

  We got the wood thrown off at both houses, with a portion at Jenny’s, for good measure and said our farewells, as I refueled and oiled up before putting the tractor in the wind towards Montgomery with what I hoped was only to be a brief stop off at Bernie’s friend Roland’s house.

  22

  Homeward Bound

  I reconsidered dumping the trailer after finding it so useful to help Bernie out and I had my own junk I needed to figure out how to haul around when I got to Montgomery. I had most of my long-term preps in storage because of my planned move to Atlanta and I had not yet devised a plan to move them over to my Moms house once I got home.

  Moving my supplies out of that storage building is going to really take some planning on my part I realized. First off, it was in a neighborhood where I did not want a lot of attention drawn to me getting boxes out of the storage shed after an event like this, because it would be obvious that my unit contained food and secondly the gate in front of it was electric.

  I had planned on that gate being down from a power outage earlier and had bought some bolt cutters to go through the fence if I ever had too, but they were in my truck stuck in Atlanta. I needed to know what the conditions were in Montgomery before I pondered a plan further though, just too many “what ifs” to deal with for now.

  I found the back road Bernie had directed me too and the houses were few and far between on this deserted wooded stretch heading towards the interstate. There was very little traffic stranded on it and I made good time heading for Roland’s place.

  I slowed as I started seeing the white wood pasture fence leading up to the front gate and turned in. Damn, gate is tightly padlocked, figures I thought. I forgot to ask Bernie if Roland had any kind of dog, that was not good thinking on my part, I should have known better than to overlook that detail.

  Well that house is pretty far away but I think I will try hollering at it before jumping a stranger’s fence and wondering up. “HEY, ROLAND! ROLAND STILES! I called while watching the house and the barn. I tried again ROLAND STILES! I yelled.

  A tall man in a cowboy hat exited the Barn and peered in my direction. “Who is it? He called back

  “Message from Bernie” I hollered back to him becoming tired of this yodeling contest already.

  “Just a minute, I am coming” he yelled back, went back in the barn, and led out a beautiful paint horse, which mounted and rode in my direction. I noticed he was carrying a lever action rifle too. He looked like vision out of the old west as he trotted up to the gate.

  “Who are you and what’s this message from Bernie?” he asked, taking in the old tractor and my odd dress.

  “My name’s David, I’ve just come from the Lake and Bernie said to stop and give you a message on my way to Montgomery.” I replied looking up at the gaunt cowboy.

  “You going to Montgomery on that thing?” he inquired while dismounting his horse and digging in his pocket for the key to the gate.

  “Going to try to, I came from Atlanta on it so far.” I said laughing.

  “Well, pull it in and come up to the house.” I will lock the gate up behind you.

  I drove up the driveway to the red brick farmhouse and shut down the engine. He told me as he passed he was putting up the horse and would be back in a few minutes and to have seat on the porch.

  He walked over to me, beamed a smile, and extended his hand “Name’s Roland. Is Bernie alright? He is not hurt is he?” he said looking at me directly, but not overly concerned.

  “He’s doing fine, just out of power like the rest of us.” I offered.

  “I thought I was losing my mind when that storm hit. I was out bush hogging and my tractor died. Then, when I come back to the house, the power was out. The next morning my truck wouldn’t start and I sort of put two and two together, but I thought it was nuclear until I heard about it on the radio.” he advised me.

  “You got a working radio? So what did they say?!” I anxiously began with a thousand other questions running through my head and on the tip of my tongue.

  “Well, reception is spotty as hell, but a solar storm took out the grid and the president is saying it will take months for some areas and years for others to get power back.” Roland replied nodding his head as if to say yea it is that bad.

  “Not that I expect anything out of them, but did the reports say anything about FEMA trying to mount a response?” I was curious to know.

  “They say FEMA is mobilizing, but it will take most cities a month or more to receive assistance.” Roland said dubiously.

  “Ah, they are bull shitting the public to keep them calm.” I said agreeing to Roland’s unsaid assessment.

  “I figured as much, too.” Roland said rising and telling me to come inside that I must be thirsty.

  “FEMA doesn’t even have a plan for something this big, and their personnel will be spread all over the place with hardly anyway to contact them.” I said accepting a cool glass of water Roland had poured from a stoneware crock sitting on the kitchen counter.

  “I ain’t expecting anything out of them, but I sure feel sorry for the folks in the cities as the grocery shelves empty.” he said doing his wise nod.

  “Hell, most of our National Guard is stuck somewhere in the Middle East. I do not know how they going to keep any kind of order as things unravel.” I said as he refilled my water glass.

  “So, what message do you have from Bernie?” he asked settling back in his chair.

  I told him Bernie’s message and worries about getting by in the cold winter and what little I did for him, while I was there to help get him ready for it.

  “That was awful nice of you, David. Bernie is a good friend of mine. You want to stay over the night and have supper with me?” he inquired leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands behind his head.

  “No, I need to be moving on soon, but Bernie said we should share a few beers and let me tell you a story about Philburn.” I told him in anticipation of a little fun rest break before I got back out on the road.

  “You know Philburn?” he queried, becoming all attentive.

  “I sure do, that used to be one of his tractors sitting out there.” I said with some mirth.

  “Oh, I gotta hear this, let’s go out to the barn for the beer.” he said rising.

  “I got a surprise for you, David, this beer is ice cold.” he said turning and proudly grinning at me.

  “How did you manage that?” I replied full of interest.

  “I had me some marine batteries stored in the barn that weren’t hooked up when this shit hit the fan and I got them hooked up to an inverter and a small portable ice maker.” He said anxious to show off his setup. He had a solar panel charging his batteries, so that must of not got damaged either, but he said he was careful to unhook it in case the sun wasn’t done with us yet.

  “Ah, a really cold beer.” I told him after taking a swig and proceeded to tell him my tractor story and Philburn’s ride home on the back of Martha’s bike.

  Roland was laughing about Philburn getting the worst end of a deal and in particular about the bike.

  “I know that damned bike. Martha, when she was a young girl, used to ride it in the town’s parades and Philburn always commented on how god a
wful ugly it was.” whooping with the hilarity of it all. “I would sure have paid good money to see you and him heading down the road on it! Ha! David and you say he got stuck with that thing in trade, too?! That is even better.” he replied handing me another beer.

  “Well, I could sit around and do this all day Roland, but I need to get moving soon.” I told him as I looked out at the road.

  “Well, I will give you a six pack to take with you, it won’t get hot by the time you finish it. I seen you drink.” he said kidding me good-naturedly and putting it in a plastic garbage bag.

  “That sounds like fun.” I said as I envisioned rolling along and catching a buzz on the way home.

  “Let me see that pea shooter you got in your waistband.” he said wanting to inspect my pistol which I then handed him.

  “Sig 230, nice weapon, but a bit small of a caliber for my tastes. I got an extra .45 if you want to trade?” he said handing it back.

  “No, I will keep it. I like it and I am having a hard enough time concealing it, let alone a 45.” I replied finishing my beer.

  “Well, at least I can give you a better shirt, unless you going to do that Larry the cable guy thing and cut the sleeves off.” he said looking at me impishly.

  “I won’t customize it.” I laughingly assured him and waited for him to come back with a shirt and started getting the tractor cranked up.

  “I will ride up on the tractor with you and unlock the gate then walk back.” he said handing me a short sleeve blue denim shirt, which I swapped for my sweat soaked threadbare T-shirt.

  Roland opened up the gate and waved me off as I saluted him with a beer and a smile as I headed on back down the road.

  I checked my watch and it said 3.30. It is about 10 miles to the interstate and let us see about 30 minutes by car to the first Montgomery exit which be would be about 2 to 2 ½ hours on this thing, so maybe I get to my first stop around 6.30, if I was lucky.

  I started reviewing my options and wondering if it was better to try coming in at night or daylight and which was the best route to take to my destinations.