by Ron Foster
“Smells like bacon? Is it bacon flavored Spam?” the old bald grizzly said flexing his nose.
“We got canned bacon, but I doubt Sherry is wasting it yet.” rubbing the grit from driving the tractor out of my eyes.
“Hey, get back here! I said to my food exuberant minion.
“You are tactical now, never leave your weapon.” I said motioning towards the HiPoint carbine and trying to make sense out of a day I was not ready for yet.
“Got ya, sorry.” he said grabbing it and still hurrying twice as fast towards the backyard’s enticing smells, almost running over Sherry in the process.
“Hey sweetie,” Sherry said, while dodging the lumbering chow hound headed out to investigate the aroma’s origins.
“Made you a lumberjack breakfast; you got work to do today.” she beamed at me, knowing breakfast was the one meal that took me a lot of consideration after an all-nighter.
“That’s nice, thanks.” not really meaning it and smiling, as I heard Jack being told to get away from the cook fire by Betsy.
“I am up, what time is it?” I asked and grabbing the Henry survival rifle and leaning it in the corner.
“7:30. I knew you wanted up early.” Sherry chirped, while I mentally cussed whoever distilled what I drank last night, and took umbrage at her being so chirpily happy this early in the morning and hoping against hope she would cease her non stop banter.
“We do still have coffee right?” thinking I would have the royal ass, if the preps we’d bought got used up and not replaced over time.
“Of course.” Sherry replied, looking quite put out I had not received her warm morning greeting with more pleasantries.
“It’s outside on the stove.” Where upon Sherry turned to see what the others were up to outside.
Damn, David, you getting old. I thought, as I stretched to get rid of the kinks of a hard floor and manhandling shit around from yesterday.
I grabbed the little rifle and went bleary eyed outside and saw Jack had already finished a half of a plate.
“Morning.” I managed to cough out and avoiding watching Jack grazing on his pancakes dripping with what I assumed was Ghee. (Clarified Butter)
“Wake up and piss, the worlds on fire, you old heathen.” Jack said nudging me in my hangover state.
“You the one that taught me my bad drinking habits before you quit, you old Rummy.” I managed to snarl out dolefully.
“Yes, but no more.” the walking garbage disposal chided me and grinned at my discomfort.
I couldn’t think of anything particularly nasty to assign him to, so I just ignored him for a bit.
Sherry tried to interest me in a plate of decent food, but unpalatable for the moment.
“Where’s my framing hammer, Darlin?” I wondered, while trying to choke down a piece of the breakfast and looking towards Sherry.
“Damn, I cannot figure out how you survive!” Sherry said and went to get it, while mad about me not eating much.
I started knocking apart raised bed boxes, while I think Jack was on thirds by now, and I overheard him telling the women not to worry about me, because ‘that is what he does’, before he finally wandered out to lend a hand.
“I envision benches all the way round the trailer, but all we got to cut this wood with is a couple of different types of Bow Saw.” I told him.
“How tall you want the legs?’ He said ready to pitch in now.
“I guess about a foot or so, go get somebody to play model sitting.” I said grinning, but feeling evil with sweat running off my nose.
“Will do.” and he turned to leave.
“That one saw I got has a meat cutting blade, as a choice of three, do not use that one.” I said returning to my task of dismantling the things without tearing them up. I finished up every box within the hour and went to see what Jack was up to.
“Shit, Jack! That’s a hacksaw blade.” I said studying his work.
“It cuts finer than cross cut. I figured we were playing craftsman.” He said weighing the options of making excuses versus not knowing what the hell he was doing.
“Jack just rip cut it, we are not making a piano. Speed today is more important than fancifying the darn thing.” I said giving him an out, and so he would quit gumming up and dulling our only hacksaw on that treated pine.
“Stack all those boards flat on the floorboards; we’re going to rebuild those beds when we get to our new home.” I said to Sherry and crew, as I went to gather some more tools to customize the trailer.
“Sherry, cut down those exercise mats you got for some cushions, please. Jack lets figure out if we need to cut down these book shelves in the house or let them stand.
“We can lay the shelves down in the bed and fill them in with supplies and put those extra boards over them for hidden storage.” Sherry said.
“Good idea! We will go with that.” I replied.
“Sandra lets go get that PVC pipe you have. Sherry, I will see you in a bit.” and we took off to Sandra’s and secured about 4 sections of pipe. When I got back, it was short work to install the benches and build a canopy support for the trailer.
We laid the book case in the front of the trailer bed and had a little raised platform with a removable top as an end result.
“We will store our ammo and some of the more expensive freeze dried food like the pork chops, shrimp, and beef in that box.” I said looking over our renovated trailer with satisfaction.
“Jack lets spread a tarp over the front of this tractor, instead of putting it back in the shed. I think it will be alright, especially without the crank on it.” I said beginning to unfold a tarp.
“You know Jack; I am going to look around the shed for something to rig a sunshade over that tractor later.” I said envisioning what a commercially manufactured one looked like.
“That may be more difficult that you think, but we will figure out something.” He replied.
“Jack you see any reason to keep hanging around here until the next food drop?” I asked looking at him, but also motioning Sherry over.
“Well, besides not shocking the hell out of your Mom with a sudden move, I say we can go, just as soon as we get all your stuff together.” he said looking at Sherry, who had heard this part of the conversation.
“You don’t want to wait around and get more information about what’s going on David?” Sherry asked looking confused and near tears.
“Even if we have the first wave of aid stored in a staging area for a hurricane that those Guard are drawing from, you are only talking a few weeks of public supply. I imagine those 500 cops we got in Montgomery and all those politicians are going to holler continuity of government and snag a bunch of it for themselves, when they see no resupply coming. If the railroads had got around to hardening those train locomotives for EMP, the country would have a chance. The US has been letting the railroads deteriorate for years, so I guess someday they are going to try to get it back up to standard and get some trains running again as one of the first priorities, but who knows how long it will take.” I said leaning against the fence and letting Jack and Sherry consider; if the trains even did get back up and running, what would they be able to haul if all the modern agricultural tractors and food processing plants were fried?
“You worried about it possibly getting harder to get out of the city?? Sherry said considering what martial law might impose before it to unraveled and become a useless concept, except for those making their own city states.
“Exactly, I figure we take a couple days to position all the supplies next to our front doors inside the houses, double check our load lists and plan our trip out of the city.” I said to nods of agreement.
“Ok then, Jack and I will go back to my Mom’s and start getting ready. You get your crew getting ready over here. I will be back over day after tomorrow to dig up the asparagus and estimate how much load you got to combine with what I got left to add from my mom’s house and my storage locker.” I said wondering if the mount
ain of goods I envisioned would be able to be put on the trailer.
“Well, we need to take winter clothes, some cooking stuff, my paints and easel” She said looking at me and waiting for the objections of her wanting to pack the kitchen sink, as I always told her she was doing on any road trip we ever went on.
“You can bring some of your paints and art stuff, but the folding chairs and shit like that stays. We got a hell of a lot of stuff that has to go too, like all the garden tools, my hand tools, and don’t forget I got that portable solar wind generator stashed in my storage unit, too. I got that 5x10 loaded to the gills with nothing but important stuff, so I got no idea how we going to haul it all on that trailer and whether or not I will be overloading that tractor’s pulling capability for a long haul.
“I had forgotten about just how much stuff you had over in that rental unit. Hell your ammo hoard alone in those 50cal cans is going to fill up a couple shelves of that bookcase.” She said realizing that a lot of things were going to have to leave, unless they were totally essential. This upset her greatly as she thought of leaving behind all the mementos and photos we accumulate through life that are somehow precious to us.
“We will leave Helga a couple of those LDS starter kits and some canned goods. She can watch your house for you, until you get back” I said trying to give her some positive, but pretty much unrealistic hope that her items would not be lost forever.
“I won’t pack too much, David.” she said fighting back tears of anticipated loss.
“I know you won’t. Hey, you can fashion some sort of saddlebags for the moped and ATV’s for some extra carrying room.” I said giving her a pat and not wanting to carry on this particular conversation much further.
“I am going to grab a few things from my stash here and put it in my Army Alice pack to bring back home. I am going to give my Mom a surprise special treat and open one of those special cans of Freeze dried shrimp I got a deal on. You want half the can to have yourselves a little party, too?” I offered.
“Yeah, that would be great. I got an extra bottle of cocktail sauce if you want it. Damn David, we are not going to see cocktail sauces for a long time are we?” she commented.
“We can make our own; remind me to be sure to dig up that horseradish root, too, when I start working on the garden transplants.” I told her and edging towards the house before the conversation took another sad turn.
I loaded up my backpack and said farewell to everyone. I told Jack to just ride the bike by himself for awhile, but to spell me later on with carrying the pack.
“We could maybe hang the pack off the handle bars and just push the bike, David, if you wanted to.” he offered.
“Just for the hell of it let’s try double riding.” I said and got on behind Jack. We went a short ways, before I said this isn’t going to work; it was just too awkward and close on that small framed girl’s bike, especially after our marinating in the sweat from today’s labors. Flashbacks of me hauling Philburn home on a girly bike came back to me and I wondered how the old man was faring.
5
The Bug out Blues
When Jack and I got home to my mom’s house, I unloaded my goodies to a dubious crowd.
“I thought freeze dried shrimp was something you fed to your fish in an aquarium.” Lois said turning her nose up at the thought.
“These are military contract Gulf Shrimp that were caught before the oil spill; I guarantee they will taste just like fresh, after I soak them in coldwater for a bit.” I said bustling around the Kitchen.
“Well, how old are they then?” my Mom asked with a sour looking face.
“These things are Nitrogen Packed and made to last 30 yrs; it’s what is stored for members of Congress. Now, go back in the living room and get out of my kitchen, while I make you a feast.”
“Jack, in that plastic ammo can looking thing next to my bed is a Wood gas Stove, grab it and hunt some twigs up or get an axe out of my shop and make some wood chips. We are going to have a little cook out Shrimp scampi to go with these beautiful peeled deveined cooked shrimp. Check them out, they are large, almost jumbos.” I said holding out a bowel of shrimp and snatching it back after Jack grabbed himself one for a taste.
“Except for not being Iced, I can’t tell any difference in flavor.” He said trying to get back near the bowel to devour a few more.
“You wait on dinner.” I laughed and then continued, “I think there are some tomatoes still on the vines out on the patio that should be ripe now, if the birds haven’t got to them. Go pick them and work on the fire, while I get my other ingredients together.” I said while getting olive oil and garlic etc. out of the cabinets and turned towards the spice rack.
“They do look good.” My mom said who snuck up behind and must of seen Jack’s reaction to the shrimp he had tasted.
“Go ahead and grab one and give one to Lois.” I said turning around and offering the bowl.
“Sauce is in those little bowls over there.” I said as she took a tentative nibble.
“These are good.” she said surprised, but still skeptically examining the shrimp she had taken a bite out of.
“That’s amazing, I didn’t think those shriveled up things would rehydrate so well.” she said now dipping the rest of her shrimp in some cocktail sauce.
“Wait until you taste my Scampi. Now, get out of my kitchen, please ma'am.” I said, and she begrudgingly left. I hate people in my kitchen when I am cooking and everybody knows to walk a thin line, when entering my domain; and that I hate any kind of advice, no matter how well intentioned, when I am playing with the pots and pans.
“I got that wood gas stove going; I saw directions with it and had to give it a try. It’s amazing.” Jack said trying to look around my preparations and looking like a dog begging for table scraps.
“That thing is neat; I can use the same principles to run a generator or a tractor, too. Which reminds me; I got the old directions printed out from FEMA on building a gasifier for a tractor they produced for a civil defense measure, if we can’t have access to gasoline or diesel. It is pretty neat, just uses metal garbage cans and stuff you can knock together in a garage.” I said mixing a pitcher of lemonade.
“Where are the plans at? I want to see them; that sounds really interesting.” Jack said washing up a few smallish, but great tasting homegrown heirloom tomatoes and slicing them into a bowl.
“I will grab the plans after dinner. Let’s do the set the table thing, Mom will like that. Maybe it will soften the blow, when I break the news to them sometime during the meal that we will have to be leaving soon.” I said lowering my voice.
“That’s not going to be fun.” Jack said, while getting dishes out of the cupboard.
I finished preparing dinner and Mom said ‘Grace’ after we were all seated, as was her want on the rare occasion that we used the big formal dining room table, and then everybody dug in. Everyone commented my Scampi tasted better than some restaurants they had been in; and the shrimp straight out of the can was just like having a boiled shrimp cocktail to go with it.
I made my case for over an hour why we were leaving in a few days and the conversation got hot and heavy in a boy versus the girl’s vein.
We finally agreed that moving to the country, aka lake was the best option; and if need be, I promised every one I would get them back to this starting point.
THE TRIP WAS OFFICIALY ON. BUG OUT! I was the one that pushed for this, but I really had not told anyone how many hardships I saw ahead and still had little niggling thoughts about if this was the best decision.
I watched my Mom after we got the dishes cleaned; recruit Lois to methodically start gathering and boxing or bagging the pantry and long term stores with a vengeance.
Jack and I started dragging out the non edible preps from all over, that I had somehow managed to conceal from Mom.
“So that’s what was in the closet, that you never fixed the door on so you could open it more than a foot.” she said, as I
had stacked stuff on my bed and along side it in huge piles.
“Where did you get THAT?” She said looking at my Smith and Wesson MP AR 15.
“That is semi auto; I think you forgot I carried a full auto one for 13 and half years for the Army and this country.” I told her; perturbed she had a hard time still conceiving I wasn’t a little boy but a veteran soldier.
“Is it legal?” She said having no experience with guns.
“Yes, it is street legal. And no, Jack and I are not going to put our eyes out playing with it.” I said becoming fully frustrated and remembering childhood admonishments.
“You might as well get used to seeing this, too.” I said pulling a semi auto Romanian AK 47 with a banana clip out from under the bed.
“Those have been here all this time?” she said her temperature rising.
“And nothing bad ever happened, and we are glad to have them now. Do you know how many weapons the Army trained me to fight in battle with?” I replied to her trying to get her to join a reality that escaped her for years or that she did not want to think about.
“I am sorry, just surprised.” she said subdued and letting her younger son take his role of looking out for an elderly mother.
“I saw how busy you and Lois have been. How is it going? Do you need our help yet to move boxes?” I said giving her back the role of a good head honcho organizer.
“Yes, Jack can come get some boxes out of our way and put them by the door and you can... Work on what you are doing?” She said before turning and ignoring any other activity she did not want to really consider or know about.
Jack returned and I knew somebody had given him the third degree, probably interrogating him about how long he had known I had been building a cache of politically incorrect firearms.
“I guess that AK is your primary, here are clips here’s ammo, and here is some web gear.” I said putting a small pile of field gear and accessories down.
“Thanks it’s nice to have some real fire power if we need it.” Jack said sorting out the gear.