Alpha Farm: The Beginning (Prepper Chick Series Book 1)

by Annie Berdel

  “I doubt if anything is working down there. No sense moving him. Did you ever find out what was going on?” Ridley asked her mother.

  “Sorta. Not entirely as pieces are coming in but it’s not looking good.” Her mother said. “Once we get communications back up at full tilt, we will know more.”

  “I love you, mom.”

  “Oh, I love you too baby. Things will be OK, you have to trust me. We have enough supplies to make it through any extended period of time.”

  “I know. Maybe it’s with the baby coming but life has really changed, hasn’t it?” Ridley asked her mother.

  “Yes. Very much so. But we will get through whatever is thrown our way and it’s our duty to help as many people as we can get through what’s ahead as best we can.”

  “OK, back to work. We need to remove this object and get this guy back on his feet. I’m sure someone is missing him about right now,” Ridley said as she lowered her head and started to re-examine his wound.

  125

  Angie dropped to her knees in the grass beside the tree where she had left Scott. “God, where did he go?” she muttered out to herself. He couldn’t have made it far. Hell, she hadn’t even been gone that long. Panic started to drift upwards through her body at the realization of how alone she was. All of her belongings were dumped all over the road a couple miles back. No one knew where she was and with no communications, she couldn’t get in touch with anyone. “What the hell am I doing?” she blurted out. Scott was out there, hurt and needing help and all she could do was sit here and feel sorry for herself! Really? Was that all she was good for? Poor, poor Angie.

  Standing up, she squared her shoulders. “Alright Chicky, time to get busy.” Looking around at the area she left him she started looking for signs of which direction he may have taken. Slowly walking around the base of the tree, there were no signs other than heading out towards the road. Walking back in that direction, she knelt where he had been seated and slowly moved the grass aside and looked deeper for anything that could give her a clue. Ever so lightly pressed into the dirt was a set of footprints. Just the heel print of a boot. Following it, the imprint took her closer to the road in the direction that they had just driven past a day ago.

  Looking in the direction the tracks went, she tried to remember what they had passed. A farm, there was a farm a few miles back. After that there was a rundown house that had a bunch of trash around it that had motorcycles parked outside. Nothing else much after that until they came into town but that was miles and miles away. Had he walked back to the farm? Had he hallucinated and taken off thinking he was going somewhere he recognized? Hell, were these even his tracks?

  Walking along the edge of the road a dozen steps ahead, she kneeled down again. Running her hand over the tracks, her fingers identified the hoof print before her mind did. Horses.

  126

  He lifted his nose to the breeze and inhaled all the scents surrounding him. A hunter, his ability to separate the bouquets presented to him was like a magician shuffling cards until he magically found the one he needed.

  He was used to the pack he lived with. Humans could learn from that. Many have it sunk deep into their skull that survival was about going it alone, not realizing that humans were just as much pack animals as the wolf. The sheep and the wolf mentality has overrun the preparedness population and people need to get past that, to learn from the wolf.

  Emma journeyed down this path not long ago. She listened intently one day to the man on the radio when she still lived in the city. The full force of what he was saying sunk deep into her heart and made her weep. What can you do when your vote doesn’t count, when your garden gets bulldozed, when you feel like your back is up against the wall? How do you fight back?

  Is there a path to less intrusion, to less taxes, to more freedom? Where is the path? Who is going to go down the path first? Sadly, those people are ridiculed by the very hand trying to help them, those who want to take the very journey themselves but don’t have the guts to take the first step.

  Wrong is wrong. Wrong is out there and lives among us. When do you get tired of voting for the lesser of the two evils? Wrong cannot be fought unless you understand what you are fighting against. Wrong can be fought against by using its own energy against itself. Let the system destroy itself. Accelerate the process by backing your resources out of the system. The system may not collapse in your lifetime, but you have the ability to help set up future generations, your children’s children, to have a better life even further away from the system.

  Turn your back and distance yourself from the propaganda being spewed from the mouths of those creating the system. Turn your back and take a step. Now take another step. Stop enabling the enemy by being there and let nature take its course. Wars are won by using arms and information, with information being the more powerful of the two. How many ways are you supporting the system by everyday life? Is money as important as you think it is, as you are made to think it is? If they needed more money would they just not make more? So why do they need yours other than that they can use it to control you? Every generation that has collapsed has come out the other side with a new system. Stop holding on to the one we currently have.

  Step back and evaluate your own alliances. You cannot find a solution to the problem from the very entity that created the problem in the first place. Step outside your thinking and build alliances of others to fight at your side.

  Learn skills and develop the knowledge you need to enable yourself to live outside the trappings of society. Evaluate your needs from your wants. Be honest with yourself. Stack the deck in your favor and teach the knowledge and skills you have to those who come after you. To your children. To the children who will wish to run free in your pack.

  Never call theft justice, never call captivity freedom and never equate safety with freedom. Never become an empathic sheep. Stop acting like you deserve the protection of the brave. For every one wolf, there are thousands of sheep. More people need to wake up to what is truly going on. Eyes need to be open. The issues that we are enduring right now are because we have earned it. Earned it by buying into the bullshit and compromising our principles. Accept that the deck is stacked against you; it’s the first step in moving forward. It’s time to take back the tool of your enemy, little by little, day by day. If you face a full frontal assault, you give support to the battle itself. Walk away. Withdraw and let nature take its course. Trust the human, that if you don’t attack the being but plant a seed instead, their eyes will slowly open. Stop telling people what to do with the information that you give them, which you know to be true, and simply provide it to them. Let them chew it up and allow them the benefit of feeling the truth on their own tongue. And then, ask what they think you should do about the information. And when they ask you because they don’t know, just know that it’s time to keep talking to get more people to open up.

  Take a step. Alone if you have to. Just take that step and show others that it can be done, that you can move towards the freedom that runs through the veins of the wolf. Others will notice. Keep moving. Keep talking. Before you know it, you will build a pack of like-minded people around you. Over time, your pack will grow and branch out to create other packs. Don’t wait for those who don’t want to step out. Let them be and move forward. You will be surprised by the wake you leave behind you when you start moving. Others will get caught up in it. Be a point of neutrality. A point of safety. A beacon of hope.

  Her scent haunted him. Freedom haunted him. It bound him to this place as the overwhelming thirst to peregrinate the land dripped from his jowls into the hard ground below. His ground. Our ground. Lowering his head, he sniffed the dirt. It was getting harder to find her and little by little he moved closer. One day, with cunning patience, he would possess that which he desired most. One day, our children will be able to breathe free because of that which we help build now. If only we were brave enough to take the first steps. To release the bonds that bind us from
the trappings of society that have been used against us to chain us down and use us as someone’s slave. As sheep.

  127

  Chloe stared at the back of the man on the motorcycle. Strong, lean muscles extended out and gripped the handlebars. His hair curled over the collar of his jacket he sliced through the invisible forces and charged forth as a knight on his mighty steed.

  Chloe quickly sat up and shook her head back and forth trying to remove the image. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she thought to no one but herself.

  “You OK?” Megan asked from the driver’s seat.

  “Ya, must have drifted off a bit. Sorry,” Chloe returned.

  “Probably wouldn’t hurt to take a nap. You’ve been driving nonstop and could use a break. Close your eyes and try and rest,” Megan said, unknowingly putting a dose of motherly authority in her voice.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. It’s flat and reasonably straight across the top up here. Funny thing is I always thought you drove up one side of the mountain and down. I didn’t realize there was like 300 miles between the up and down part. Seriously though, close your eyes and take a break. You’re driving this thing down the other side and I need you to be wide awake and alert for that,” Chloe added.

  Chloe shot her a quick smile and settled back into the seat. Closing her eyes before she saw Michael again, she started counting sheep.

  Up ahead, Michael steered the motorcycle with ease. The road was smooth and the scenery breathtaking as they headed up through the Sierra Nevada Mountains and into the Great Basin. One day he would come back here and take more time taking it all in. Right now, though, he needed to get these women to the farm. They would be safe and well taken care of there until the world sorted itself back out. Fucking idiots, he thought. Greed corrupted the best of men. Right now these men were quickly destroying everything he cared about. Based on his observations over San Diego earlier, he could guess that it had been pretty much completely destroyed. “What else was gone?” he wondered.

  128

  The group stopped for a quick break alongside the road they had been traveling on for miles. Not taking the chance of pulling over in a populated area, Michael felt more in control with vast openness around him. tomorrow they would drive down the Colorado Rockies and make their way east to Ohio. Right now, though, he was happy to be off the bike and getting some feeling back in his ass.

  Setting his pack against the side of his bike, he pulled out a plastic bag full of papers and maps. Detailed instructions were written down. Looking at the distance across the top of the mountains, his best guess was that they should be to their first stop for breakfast and a refueling. Scanning for the corresponding notecard, he pulled out a small handheld radio and turned the dial to the on position. Dialing in the correct channel, he pressed the button on the side of the unit and spoke quietly.

  “Adelina One Copy.”

  Releasing the button, static noise filled the air. Trying not to let the women in the RV hear, he put his back between the motor home and the radio and depressed the button again.

  “Adelina One, Come In”

  The static was quickly interrupted by a woman’s voice. “Adelina One Copy.”

  Breathing out a sigh of relief, Mike quickly responded. “Bypass Adelina One. Resume at Zero Eight Hundred Shawna Two Over.”

  “Adelina One Out,” came the female voice, followed by silence. Tucking the papers back into the plastic bag and securing the radio, Mike grabbed a quick drink of stale water from his canteen. Walking around the RV, he examined every inch of it for any kind of damage while the women were inside making dinner. He wasn’t about to set foot inside the vast metal box with that much hormone imbalance going on. Kicking the tires, he was grasping at things now to make himself look busy.

  A shadow crossed over his face as he looked up into the window to see Chloe walk towards the back of the camper. His eyes followed her form as she drifted into the shadows taking in all the less than subtle feminine aspects of her body. Kicking the tire again, he let out a yelp as he missed and his shin met the underside of the motor home. Oh boy, he needed to get his emotions under control. Limping back around to where his bike was, he pulled his pack off the back. Walking out from where the bus was, he found a spot to make camp that gave him a good vantage point just in case anyone came visiting.

  He jerked his head up hearing the door open on the RV.

  “Hey, you hungry?” he heard Chloe yell out to him.

  Watching her bound down the step and walk towards him, he felt a tinge of excitement pulse in his crotch.

  “Hey,” her voice softened as she approached him. “You OK?”

  “Yes, fine. Just tired. Everyone settled down inside?” he asked, motioning with his chin towards the motor home.

  “Megan’s mom is amazing! She is like super mom or something,” she said with such a vibrant attitude that Mike had to wonder if he was talking to the same woman.

  “Here,” she added, handing him a plate of food. “Figured you might like to have this out here under the stars.”

  “Ya, thanks!” he said, taking the plate from her.

  “So what’s the plan, Michael? I know it isn’t going to be all roses since we don’t know what’s going on down there,” she said referring to their descent in the morning.

  “We play it by ear. Our biggest issue is getting across the Mississippi. I figure if we head north through Nebraska we can skim along the bottom of the state into Iowa just north of the Missouri line. Let’s just hope that the bridges are all intact. Gonna be a bitch swimming this time of year.”

  Chloe didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “You sure you know where we are going?”

  “Like the back of my hand,” Michael answered.

  129

  Michael had grown up on a farm, and being the only male child, he bore the brunt of being the youngest also. He was essentially at the mercy of his sister. Twelve years spanned the difference in age between the two. When his sister was old enough to move out and get married, he was just learning how to hunt with their father. It was much like being an only child.

  His father, their father was an avid outdoorsman. Michael remembered his sister showing him pictures of their father usually with some kind of wild game that had been killed. There were photos of the man as a child, always barefoot and with some kind of improvised weapon. Mike used to stare at the photos and envision what he was like as a young man.

  When Mike turned 13, his father died from cancer. It was the hardest thing Michael had ever gone through in his young life, to see the man he idolized lose his battle against such a horrible, painful disease. Mike cried at the funeral in front of everyone and saw the people whisper. He was now the man of the family so how could he sit there crying? He needed to be tough, to be strong for his mom and his sister.

  He spent way too many years after his father’s death pissed off at the world. Feeling like there was no way out of his life in a small town, he joined the Army against his mother’s wishes. Bottom line was that he was running away and he never wanted to look back.

  A country boy out to seek his way in the world, once his superiors learned how good he was at tracking, they recruited him into Pathfinder’s School. There he learned how to set up and operate drop zones, pickup zones, and helicopter landing sites for airborne operations, air resupply operations, and other air operations in support of the ground unit commander. He was the first line of defense and it was his duty to make sure the men who followed in behind him once he made the area secure and gave the word would be safe from enemy fire.

  He learned a lot from the military, including how to be a brother. He had a sister he had barely seen since he was little and his mother was still alive but that was about it. It took a while but he realized he needed someone to watch his back like he did for others, and before long he had made long-lasting friendships with his peers. He would have given his life for any one of them, and that was hard for Mike to admit. Tough
exterior at all times, no tears, he never wanted to be seen as a pansy again.

  Now he was being questioned by this small imp of a woman standing before him. He felt the old feelings of anger brewing beneath the surface diminish as he saw the fear in her eyes. Those eyes locked onto his, losing him in the glossy moss-colored pools of glass and bore down into his soul looking for places to repair, to heal. She intrigued him. Watching the emotions dance across her face somehow reminded him of home, of wanting to grab onto her and protect her from all the cruelness of the world.

  “Hey, stop looking so depressing. Where did all the spunk go from the bar?” he finally asked.

  “Spunk. Interesting way to describe me. It’s one thing to be a bit spunky when you are responsible for no one but yourself,” she said, drifting off and looking at the motor home.

  “But you feel responsible for these people you just met?” he asked.

  “I guess I do,” she replied, realizing for the first time it was the closest she had come to having a sister. “I like Megan and her family, a lot. We need to make sure nothing happens to them until you get us to my contact.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Mike said smiling at her. Her contact. Hmpf! This should be interesting, Michael thought.

  130

  The sun streaked its way through the cracks in the boards and played with her eyelashes. Wanting nothing more than to roll back over and duck under the covers in protest, she tried to open her eyes. Mornings were always her favorite time of the day and today she wanted to just stay where she was and snuggle up against her husband. Raising her arm up and over, she began to turn when the searing pain reminded her she was only dreaming.

  Her eyes flew open as the nausea caught up to her. Turning as best she could without jarring her leg, she relieved the stress in her stomach on the dirt floor. Tears streamed down her face as the acids in her stomach ate at the lining of her throat. The wrenching subsiding, Shelby reached into her apron and found the handkerchief she always kept there. Wiping her mouth, the memories of what happened the day before started flooding her mind.