by Ron Foster
“That’s gross David; he can’t whiz down the barrel of that gun.” Sarah said flustered and finding the patio company more appealing than mine and leaving us to head over that way.
“You having problems with your aim John? Can’t hit a gun barrel?” I mercilessly picked at the old Gent, which earned me a fake punch to the ribs from him.
“What’s up with you telling John to pee down a gun barrel? My mom whispered to me, when I returned to the patio and instantaneously making me start chuckling at her discomfort.
“It’s a man operated field expedient way of removing the acidy salt deposits left from using the old kinds of corrosive ammunition.” I told her so she didn’t think I had insulted John someway, like telling him to go piss up a rope.
“Well, you shouldn’t have said it in front of Sarah.” she said and went to go female translate for me what I had explained to her.
John must of overheard part of the conversation, because he wandered over to me while I was examining Roland’s defunct electric well pump and said, “Roland said we could go visit the barn, if we wanted to.” looking at me knowingly and had me wondering if our host had iced down some beer knowing how much I might like that.
“Good idea John, what’s that old song lyric?
“’Our troubles are many, they are as deep as a well’?” I think we ought to sneak off and talk about well pumps for a bit. “I said whole heartedly agreeing to the concept of a cold one or two.
I probably should not have brought that song up, because after beer number three, John wanted to go get his harmonica and play it, thereby giving up the jig that we were not just talking about well pumps over in the barn and causing my mom and Sarah to crash our early day beer bash.
Mom looked like she could kill me for drinking at all, let alone this early in the day; but got with the program when Sarah, who was John’s favorite groupie, had no problem joining in our fun and she could see the religiously abstaining Lois could even see the harmless fun in it.
“Damn, I leave for an hour and you all started a hootenanny and a barn dance without me.” Roland said walking in to put up his saddle and pulling his cowboy hat off to wipe his sweaty forehead even while smiling at our antics.
“Watch this here country boy show you how it’s done.” He said pulling a horses feed sack off the wall a producing a violin out of it.
Well, Charlie Daniels does not have anything on Roland Stiles, as that spry old man commenced to sawing on that fiddle and somewhat buck dancing to his own music at the same time. Jeb, who was in his twenty-something’s, probably was feeling roped, caught and branded, as he was required to dance with all the ladies from 40 to over 80. We all Blue Grassed the music around the barn, until Roland and John could not keep up any more and looked like two panting old dogs.
“Let’s carry this party to Bernie’s house; we are going to fall out before we even get going!” Roland said and gave instructions to Jeb to go hitch up his team to the old wagon at the end of the barn, much to the youngster’s delight to escape the gray haired gonzo extravaganza he’d bee forced to participate in.
“Anybody know how to drive a team?” Roland asked and looking about the open space of the barn. “I thought not, ok I am going to hitch Betsy to the back of that buckboard. No, not you darling, my horse.” he said satisfied with his joke at Betsy’s expense and grinning to beat tomorrow.
“This here band needs a guitar and a banjo to make a nice shindig at Bernie’s. I’m thinking we will stop off and grab Coltrane and Lloyd along the way.” Roland said feeling his cups.
Well, it was not too long after the weird conglomeration of what could move and would barely move vehicles had stopped at a couple of old wood frame shotgun houses, that we had the rest of our “band “put together with a 7ft tall old lanky redneck and a short pudgy old black man, who looked a lot like the old Mississippi Blues singer Lead Belly. And with the exception of Roland trying to get on his horse to do a rendition of his yodeling cowboy shit, while my mom drove the wagon; the music was lively and the beer was almost gone by the time we started towards Bernie’s driveway.
“Hold on a second: he told my Mom who had half way learned to just hold the horse’s reins and drive the wagon.
“We gotta choose us a song to enter on.” Roland slurred, but was unaffected by the alcohol when it came to his fiddle playing.
“Probably already heard us coming for miles Roland.” I started to get out before he hushed me.
“We need to think on this… Oh I got it, do Tennessee Flat Top Box by Rosanne Cash” and Coltrane started to sing while playing the guitar, as John whaled on his harmonica and Lloyd started his banjo up doing an exaggerated jig; while I think Stiles was doing something more like Rocky Top on that fiddle of his.
A totally delighted Bernie came two stepping out his door and dancing about his yard to the music, as the band played that light and short, but catchy tune.
“Mr. Billings!” “Mr. Stiles!” the two old comrades addressed each other at the end of the song.
So that was Bernie’s last name, I thought, sounds funny I don’t know why, Bernie Billings.
There would be no bill today, just some impromptu fun, as I noticed Donny from across the lake slue had appeared. I gestured to come over and we would come get him and his wife and sent Jack and Sandra over to them on the Atvs with some general directions to haul the neighbor couple back but bring back booze too.
“WE GOT BEEF?! Mounds and mounds of it, looks like!” Bernie said as Roland showed him the wealth we had brought with us.
“You and me are the only ones that know how to unhitch them horses, lets have us a chat while we do it,” Roland said, while throwing his arm around his lifelong friend and Lloyd picked at his banjo doing a solo and keeping everyone festive.
Donny and his wife were not long coming and how did I already know she could play clarinet and brought it with her?
A good time was had by all and we put a sizable dent in the proffered alcohol the lake residents offered to assist the sort of strange homecoming party.
Bernie seemed to have a lot to say to my Mom off and on during the festivities; and they even showed us all up demonstrating some swing dance moves from their yesteryears.
“David, I am listening to Roland’s advice and moving back with him, so my house is your Mom’s new house for the duration and you can use that my little rental cottage next door, as yours under the same terms. Your momma needs a place of her own to rule; David, you be kind to her you hear?” he said trying to convey some older wisdom to me.
“I am speechless, Bernie, you’re very kind.” I said before he got his old man hat back on.
“I have had a lot of water under my bridge David. You’re Chief of a new tribe, ‘shun the guns and make you a friend’ is the best advice I can give you. Don’t take other peoples stuff, just because you can; I know you won’t now, but you might get more desperate latter on. Stay a good man, my friend.” he said, while grabbing both my hands in his and giving me a firm squeeze. “There has been a considerable lot of bloodshed on these shores, since when you left last time. Don’t let yourself carry it in your pockets for life.” Bernie advised sagely.
* * *
END OF BOOK TWO OF THE PREPPER TRILOGY
THE LIGHT IN THE LAKE
1
The Survival Retreat
The rain had been coming down off and on for three days now and pretty much everyone was getting on each others nerves from being stuck inside with not much to do. The lake was a nice place to vacation but we were not on vacation, instead we were basically using four small cabins for our survival retreat and going stir crazy. We had been holed up here for a week and the first few days had gone by quickly as we settled in after bugging out to our new home.
No power, no phones and no running water. Very little reading material and food needed to be rationed and carefully allocated to insure our survival. Security grows lax in this type of weather because your thinking nobody would be
out in this crap. That is bad thinking as the Army found out in the Vietnam War. Soldiers used to call rainy days like these “Charlie’s” weather because the Viet Cong liked to stage their sneak attacks in it. The rain covers noises and reduces visibility as well as causes people to seek shelter and not be so vigilant.
We had not had any security issues ourselves yet, but we had heard quite a bit of yelling and occasional gunfire echoing across the lake so I kept reminding everyone to be aware of their surroundings and my constant reminders grated on everyone’s nerves.
They were outside their comfort zone and in possible denial and just did not want to hear about it so I lightened up. They don’t really know what to do because they had no law enforcement or military training so they became defensive when they realized they did not know how to protect each other or the supplies.
Supplies without security equals failure, simple as that. Threats that could directly affect our security were the same as could occur in any natural or manmade disaster that creates social chaos and the crime that goes along with it. Lawlessness can occur and does occur, just look at the LA riots where the shop keepers who got ready to protect their own fared better than those stores that burned to the ground because the owners lacked a plan to protect what was theirs.
Lake porch decks face the scenic lake, the front of the cabins just face a short tree lined gravel road and is pretty boring to just keep looking at nothing when you have other options. But if we were threatened by anything I thought it is coming down that road. A lot of boats still work I imagine after the solar storm EMP only probably fried some batteries, but I hadn’t heard any, of course the lake had sail boats a plenty, we had one, but I couldn’t see anyone playing Lake Pirate yet.
I had better rethink that thought; I was organizing everyone in our compound to go scavenging the empty houses around us and try to figure out just how many people were still living around us. Enough time has passed since the EMP event that a lot of people would be desperate for food now and consider any unclaimed resources worthy of fighting over and probably consider us a raiding party.
The way these little roads wound about connecting to the small main road and the lakes shoreline going every which way, some one could walk up on you before you even knew it. Following the shore line was pretty much the easiest way to move about too from house to house.
We practiced some light discipline but not so much that someone didn’t know this point was occupied. We didn’t want somebody that was scavenging targeting our area thinking it was unoccupied.
Humm I thought, I think maybe I might waste a bit of ammunition and rapid fire off a mag of something just to give those in hearing distance something to think about I considered while peering back out to the lakes shore line leading to my cabin.
That type of thinking is not right David, why scare the hell out of the neighbors unnecessarily and make a wrong first impression? They are most likely good folks just trying to get by and make do just like me and my group, I mused.
I guess eventually we are going to need to establish some kind of tribal territory or resource sharing arrangements with who ever is stranded or has bugged out here in couple mile radius.
For now, I’ve got to know something about the capabilities and intentions of who ever might be left as neighbors before I stray too far from my area.
I haven’t heard any hunters in my general area so I had high hopes of being able to run a good trap line and maybe put up a couple deer stands, but not before I understood the lay of the land a bit better and did a little risk assessment.
I see Jack wandering over to my place from his cottage during a break in the weather and go to open the door for him.
“Hey, Jack come on inside. I was just thinking about coming over to get you so we could make a few plans” I said moving into my kitchen area and having a seat at the table.
“I wanted to kick a few things with you but really I just wanted to escape Lois, she has cabin fever and has had me already arrange and rearrange everything in that cabin. I left before she found some other meaningless task to do.” Jack said looking frustrated.
“Send her over to the girls cabin, they can wear each other out a bit bickering or comparing notes on what other weird tasks they decide need doing” I offered sympathizing with him. Sherry had come by my place yesterday and psycho babbled me to death talking about her opinion on everything from her friends quirks and behaviors to what she thought I ought to reorganize in my place even though I told her several times in no uncertain terms I LIKED things as they were in my own home and to quit badgering me to change them.
“She can go over if she wants, but I don’t want to hear a word for word “she said I said” reenactment of the visit when she gets back home. I swear I never understood why some women insist on doing that” he said attempting to prowl the kitchen for any tid bit of food that wasn’t carefully put away or nailed down expecting such a move on his part.
“There is some peanut butter crackers in that drawer on your left Jack, but you owe me for them” I offered my ravenous chow hound buddy.
“Ok I will replace them with something, next foraging trip.” Said Jack realizing such items were now very precious indeed and having free access to graze my goods or show up exactly at dinner time was something that could become no longer welcome.
“ I am a little bit surprised you haven’t forayed out by yourself or attempted to drag me along house hunting when ever the rains let up for an hour or two” Jack said consuming the little orange crackers in about six bites.
“I considered it; I did do a little recon with the binoculars and walked up the shore a bit on my side. I went over and told Mom what I was doing but I wasn’t in the mood to get anybody fired up to come along with me” I said eying the SKS that Jack had leaned against the wall and noticing some small rust spots.
“Damn Jack you have had all the time in the world to oil that gun! I told you how important it was to check the weapons daily especially in this damp kind of environment.” I said disgustedly and went to get some gun oil to do it myself.
“That’s one thing I wanted to ask you about, I don’t have any gun oil, is it alright to wipe them down with 3 in 1 oil? He said reaching for the rag and oil and wanting to wipe it off himself so I wouldn’t have anything extra to fuss about.
“Yes it works fine, that BreakFree lubricant I got will protect it a lot better though. But we got to use it sparingly, I forgot to get some more before the SHTF and don’t have a lot left, I think I will save it for internal parts and maybe the insides of the barrels.” I said sighing about how hard it was going to be to replace things these days. I didn’t know you had 3 in 1 oil and had taken the dip stick out of the tractor the other day to dribble a little oil on my front door hinges so they didn’t screech like a banshee every time I opened it the other day.”
“You see any signs of life when you did your recon?” Jack said while rubbing away a particularly tough rust spot.
“I think we have three vacant houses and one occupied on the other side of this slough. I had to walk a bit to even see them through the binoculars good, but one appeared to have what looked like a trickle of smoke coming from the back of it. Without studying them for a long period of time there is no telling though. I guess we either go visit them when this rain quits or ignore them or go off exploring elsewhere for now” I told Jack went to get another pair of binoculars I had found that I wanted to see if they were more powerful than what I had.
“We don’t even know what exactly is on the way over there do we? You ever drive by that way before when you used to come up here?” Jack said finishing his task and leaning the rifle back against the wall.
“It has been so long ago, I can’t quite remember. I know there is another one of these little gravel roads coming off a dirt road to access it and it opens to a bigger side of the lake on the opposite side of that point, but other than that I don’t know.” I said proceeding to try to estimate the power of the binocular
s Bernie had left but were not marked for magnification. Dang these things are double what mine are. Cool, the other side of the lake is even more visible now. And who are you folks? I wonder looking at a middle-aged man and woman sitting under their deck and scanning around. It appears you got two kids as I pan the binoculars to the dock and boathouse noticing the two fishing separately.
I drop the binoculars from my eyes and try to figure out the distance walking the shoreline versus sailing across the lake. I am guessing about 5 miles but its hard as hell to estimate from this vantage point because I don’t know how far that little slough goes back on my left from the farthest house from Donnie’s that I could see. I will ask him next time we get together or one of us calls a meeting.
Donnie and his wife were ok, and useful to have around in some ways, but Donnie was from the era that money was king and just did not understand he could not get what he wanted by offering payment in the terms of old values. He is still pissed at me that I wouldn’t take cash, jewelry or anything else for a long arm.
He offered me gold and diamonds for that SKS Jack totes around because it’s scoped and has advantages over the AK for hunting and target viewing even if it only has a 4x scope.
I am not telling Jack I got a scope for that AK also until I think its ok to sight it in and do some live fire to testing of it. I bought that old POSP scope awhile back just as a cheaper cool looking add on I might want someday and that I was going to get around to trying it at the range but never had the chance to sight it in. It was probably factory sighted in ok, but who knows off hand at what range the crazy Russian Army decided was proper. I would guess a 100 meters but I wanted to study the manual on it before trying to explain to someone certain things about it might be totally different than what I was used to.