I was almost ready to give up figuring out what this random pile of supplies meant when I came across a small book, the title almost the same size as the publisher's imprint. Paladin Press presents: Man trapping by Ragnar Benson. It wasn't a huge book, but I suddenly had an idea on what this pile of supplies was. I went and took the book to the kitchen, forgetting about the cell, the tote and the mess I was leaving behind.
+++++++++++++
I read the book from start to finish. I grabbed a long sleeved flannel out of my bag and left the cabin, locking it behind me. With no destination in mind, wandering seemed to be the best course of action, taking in the surroundings of the cabin. I already knew that if you weren't looking hard for the driveway, you'd miss it if you were driving. Would that be the same if you were walking?
For twenty minutes, I wandered about and decided to pull some dead brush in front of the driveway. That didn't take any time at all and it actually looked rather natural when I was finished. Next step was to check out behind the cabins, and see what could be done as far as protecting my backside, if anything. In all honesty, by myself, I needed to stay as low key as possible because one man isn't an army. I wasn't even trained to be a private, so hide, avoid and lay low would be my mantra.
I already knew what was in the first shed, but when I got to the second shed, I decided to take a peek inside of it. Unlocking the steel building, I noticed the difference in the two structures immediately. Shed two had a cement floor and in the corner had some kind of pipe coming up out of it. For the well? I wondered. Stacked neatly on one side were eight boxes’ worth of Kyrocera 130 watt solar panels. There were other boxes that were labeled as a switching something or another, charge controller..., but they were all shrink wrapped in plastic. I felt a package to see if any moisture had gotten in, and that's when I noticed the re-rod sunk into the concrete, effectively grounding the shed's wall.
“What is this place?” I wondered again, this time out loud. I saw the solar panels, but no batteries. I knew that it wouldn't be an effective system without batteries and my mind was boggled at the cost of the equipment, just sitting here waiting to be installed. The remaining side had a bench, and on it, what looked like a reloading press. Looking at it, it appeared to be for loading shotgun shells, something I was a little more familiar with, but unsettling none-the-less.
I locked the shed up behind me, trying to remember what shows Frank had been talking about and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Preppers. Frank was telling me in his quiet way that he was a prepper, wasn't he? I wanted another look at that bookshelf.
I spent a better part of that evening looking at titles, and reading the backs of the books to get an idea of the information they contained, as this library as I'd come to think of it, was mainly nonfiction of the survivalist/prepper type of mentality. The library was loaded with topics that I'd never dreamed of, from soap making to raising backyard chickens. Homesteading topics were in a big abundance, as well as some titles that surprised me.
After looking through the bookshelf for a while, some more reality set in. I had plenty of food for at least another two to three weeks if I didn't pig out or quit fishing, but I didn't have some other things I would need for a long cold winter. I figured if sleepy little East Jordan was over-run, then the rest of the state was. There was no going back to work, the electrical grid would probably go down, and it would get cold. Really cold. I had work to do, before the Andersens arrived, without attracting a ton of attention from the dead heads.
I remembered Frank telling me about where to find the saw and splitting axe, and headed out to the sheds, opening the first one. Now all I had to do was to find suitable firewood. It had to be something that was already dead and dry, otherwise it would be hard to cut up and wouldn't burn well; that much I remembered from my grandparents. Looking at the ridge line where I had taken to sitting and deciding the area wasn't ready, I started moving in a half circular shape to the north of the cabin so I'd circle around and make it to the trail leading to the lake.
“Bingo!” I thought as I found at least a dozen Ash trees that, although they were still standing, they were quite dead and had been for at least a year, probably from the Emerald Ash Borer, a bug that had been on every roadside sign on my way up.
I considered going back for the chainsaw, but didn't want all that extra sound, in case any of the infected were about, and give them a location to zero in on. I cut a v-shaped notch in the side of the trunk of an Ash tree that was at least ten inches in diameter, then from the back of the notch, cut down on an angle towards the notch. Halfway through my last straight cut, the wood fibers started giving and the tree started a slow lean towards the v. I pulled the saw back quickly, and waited. The tree swayed gently but didn't go over, so I sort of just... pushed. That did it, and I was almost hit by the end of the tree as the top fell, as the bottom snapped loose and bounced up to head level. The tree falling was one of the loudest sounds I'd heard since my week in the woods, and I winced.
Adrenaline made my muscles shake and I worried how far the sound would carry. There I was, sitting there with a bow saw and a splitting axe. How ridiculous. Running to the cabin like the hounds of hell were on my ass would have been too dramatic, but I did hurry, and I locked the door for a time. The tools were forgotten by the tree for the time being, but I wanted to get the .44 and watch the windows. If there was anything in the area, I figured it would have to pass somewhere within sight of the cabin, or else slog through brush so thick that it pulled at your clothing.
Thirty tense minutes of waiting and nothing materialized. The remoteness of the cabin probably was enough, I thought to myself, before holstering the .44 and heading back to the downed tree. It took two hours of sawing by hand to chunk up the tree, and I was covered in sweat. Before anything else, I got a drink of water and cooled down.
This process was repeated once more on the first day and three trees were dropped the second day. The third day, I was supposed to get a hold of Frank, and I had chunks of five trees to carry back to the cabin, or split them on the spot. I figured I'd do a little of both on the third day, depending on how crippled my muscles were after the hard labor.
Chapter 11 – Frank's Message
September 28th, 2015
I knew driving all the way to where I would get cell phone reception was risky, but getting caught sneaking in without a fast way to get out would have been worse. The infected had bunched up last time I was in town, and I figured it was my muffler breaking the silence that had caused them to investigate. Without the Jeep though, I had no chance. Once I was down the road from the railroad tracks, I let the Jeep coast, my foot off the gas. The vehicle barely crept along at three to four miles per hour, barely making a whisper.
Almost in front of the Woods' house, my phone found signal and I put the Jeep in park, relieved to see that there was not a soul in sight. I had two bars of signal and I tried to call Frank but got a weird busy signal when he didn't pick up. My phone buzzed with text messages; most were from Frank, but there was one from Katherine and about two dozen from Sarah. I was smiling, wondering what sort of insults would be hurled my way, when the little boy knocked on the passenger window and scared the hell out of me again.
“Shit!” I said, fumbling for the dropped phone.
“My mom was wondering if you want to come over for a minute.”
“Is everything OK?”
“I don't know,” he told me honestly, “Our water quit working.”
“Is the electricity out?”
“Yeah but, our stove works. It's propane.”
“Ok,” I told him, unlocking the passenger door and pulling the handle to open it. It was a clear invitation but the kid hesitated. “Come on kid, you want to walk back?”
That did it and he scrambled in, closing the door and putting on his seat belt.
“Which house is it again?” I asked him for something to say.
“The blue one, right there!” He pointed but kept looking at th
e speedometer, probably wondering why I wasn't using the gas pedal.
“Gotcha.” I told him, pulling in. “By the way, I'm Jim; I didn't get your name last time.”
“Justin.” He said quietly, looking at the small clapboard house as his mother ran out the door.
Alarmed, I pulled the .44 and got out, thinking she was being chased, but she ran and put her arms around me, pulled me close and started crying. I probably looked like a fool, but I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to comfort her, but I didn't know this woman and I had the gun... I put it in the holster, and put my arms around her as she buried her face in my chest. Justin looked at us in surprise, but I kind of gave him the 'I don't know' gesture with my hands. He nodded and headed back into the house.
We sat like that for at least a full minute, but it seemed longer, long enough for me to become aware that I had a vulnerable and beautiful woman pressed close to my body. I tried to back up a step and Claire broke the embrace and met my eyes for a moment.
“I was hoping I'd see you today.”
“What's going on?”
“Let's go inside,” she said with a sniff, wiping the tears away from her cheeks with a shirtsleeve.
“How about the porch?” I asked, nervous about being anywhere unfamiliar without a quick get-away. I'd been having nightmares about the pharmacy, and being trapped in a strange building would be right up there with a living nightmare.
“OK.” She sat at the top of the front steps and patted the spot beside her.
Once I sat, I asked her again, “So what's going on, why are you so upset?”
“Because, this is like some kind of bad movie. I don't know what to do. The food is running out and we'd hunt if we could, but we get the infected that walk through here from time to time, and the water cut out today. I know we have water in the water heater and the back of the toilet tank, but after that?” She started crying again, her head down.
I put an arm around her, and she leaned in close. I don't know what it was about the end of the world, but this perfect stranger was willing to take comfort in me, somebody who she knew nothing about, and I was confused. Was it because I was one of the last guys up here? My mind spun with this nonsense until I asked her:
“Are there a lot of infected here?”
“Enough that we have to hide at least once or twice a day, and if I knew of some place safe, I'd leave in a heartbeat.”
“Someplace safe...” I considered it, knowing that I only had their best interests at heart, but it wasn't my cabin. I didn't know what Frank would say... “Wait a second, I need to check something,” I told her, pulling my phone out.
The message from Katherine was to stay safe and healthy, Sarah's were about blaming me for the zombie apocalypse because I played too much Call of Duty, and to send me random insults but Frank's got my attention in a hurry:
“Have to hunker down for a while, can't leave yet. City is full of infected. Hope to leave in a week’s time. Gather any and all supplies you can before it gets over-run up there. Hunt, fish, gather firewood while you still can, use solar dehydrator in 2nd shed to jerk the meat. I have other supplies listed in binder, use what you need. Help survivors if possible. Stay safe, stay uninfected.”
“Damn,” I said softly as Claire sat up, rubbing her eyes, looking to see if Justin was around.
“Can you help us?” she almost begged.
“I think so. How long would it take you two to pack?”
“We've been packed for a day now, in case we got chased out of here by the infected.”
“Do you guys have any cold gear, or hunting gear?”
“That's packed up too, as well as my rifle.”
“Well, I'm staying at my in-laws cabin. I don't think they'd mind...”
“Mom, we have to get out of here. It isn't safe anymore.” Justin came out of the house and sat down close to her side.
Claire looked around like she was being attacked from two sides for a moment and then laughed quietly.
“Would they mind? Would your wife mind? I promise we won't be a burden.”
“They won't mind.” I said, pain from Janie's funeral re-igniting in my chest, making it want to hitch.
Claire stood up. “Justin, grab the bags.”
“OK, Mom.”
“I don't know how long we'll stay Jim, I mean, I don't even know you...”
“I know, but I think that those of us who aren't infected are becoming scarce. When my in-laws make it up, we'll have to see where it all stands anyways.”
“Is it a big place?” Justin asked, feeling left out of the conversation.
“No, it's just a little bit bigger than your garage actually.”
“Is there enough room for us?” Claire asked.
“Yeah, enough room for six people. It's cozy, but it's out in the middle of the woods and there isn't anybody close.” I hope, I added silently in my head.
“Fishing?” Claire asked.
“The best.”
“Can I pack my fishing rod, Mom?” Justin asked in a whiny voice and she threw her hands up in the air.
“Let's get your stuff.” I thumbed out a quick text message as I walked into the house.
++++++++
“How much further is it?” Justin asked from the back seat.
My Jeep wasn’t capable of carrying a lot of bags, and the backseat was jam-packed. Both of the Woods had backpacks full of supplies and two duffel bags. Claire rode up front with me and Justin was under the pile in the back. There might have been more room, but I’d had Claire strip the house of any usable food, just in case. We were on the railroad tracks, looking for my turnoff when Claire grunted with the way the Jeep was bouncing all around, the bags of food on her lap causing a bit of pain with each bump.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice modulating in tone as the bumps made her voice funny.
“To the cabin.”
“Down the railroad tracks?”
“Yup.” I murmured, looking for the turn off. Finding it, I turned and, in no time at all, I pulled into the cabin's drive, only pausing to pull the brush back across the front of the drive to make it less visible.
“Oh, wow.” Claire stepped out of the Jeep and gave the cabin the once over.
“I know it isn't much, but my in-laws love it.”
“It's probably been here over a hundred years, and will probably last another fifty without any major issues...” she marveled.
“Mom, can you get me out of here?” Justin's voice floated up from behind the pile of bags.
I had to laugh, it was too surreal. I helped Claire unload the Jeep enough to get Justin out, and we all made trips inside the cabin to unload their belongings.
“I've got the big bed.” Justin told us, laughing as he looked inside the bedrooms. Frank's bed was made up still, and it was obvious where I had been sleeping, as I hadn't been making my bed.
“We'll see about that, big guy,” I told him, “That's my in-laws’ bedroom.” I smiled. I hadn't realized how much I had missed being around people. I hadn't been on my own all that long, but the prospect of being some of the last uninfected people in the area had been clouding my thoughts.
“What's for dinner?” he asked, without missing a beat.
“Do you two like Chili?”
Chapter 12 – Waiting
September 29th, 2015
The vegetarian Chili turned out decent, but I could tell my culinary skills didn't impress the Woods clan. I mulled over Frank’s text messages. Gather food, firewood, survivors...
Justin ended up taking the top bunk over top of where I had been sleeping for the first night, and when he was asleep, Claire joined me in the small living room area in front of the cast iron stove.
“How bad do you think it is out there?” I asked her after she sat in the shadows next to me for what felt like an hour.
“I think it's the end of the world bad. Like the Book of Revelations bad.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, listen, I'm sorry I fell apart earlier. I've been living in terror for days, and finding somebody who wasn't trying to devour me, well...”
“You needed a hug.”
“I needed a hug,” she said, the same moment I did, and we laughed.
“The books here...”
“Frank is a Prepper.” I told her, wondering if admitting this was some breach of secrecy or something.
“Oh.” She went silent.
“His last message to me was to gather firewood, hunt and fish, and find survivors. I don't even know where to start,” I admitted.
“There's wood all around here, and the hunting must be fantastic.”
“The fishing...”
We stayed up for a couple of hours planning, going through the binder and vowing to find the solar dehydrator that Frank talked about in the shed. I'd been through both, and hadn't seen it. Apparently Claire and Justin were both accomplished hunters (and I was a neophyte) so we talked about splitting tasks up, and talked about the smoker that Claire had in her garage.
“The dehydrator is good, but a smoker is better,” she explained.
“If you can concentrate on hunting, Justin on fishing, I'll get the firewood squared away.”
“What about the zombies?”
“Let's hope we have a few days of leeway. Pretty soon, we're going to have to set up some kind of watch, and that's going to hurt things.” One of my fears while I was alone was trying to stay awake long enough to mount an effective watch.
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Yeah. I just hope that Frank, Katherine and Sarah make it up here soon.”
“Is Katherine or Sarah your wife?”
“No....”
And I told her.
I told her everything, nothing left out. Somehow, the telling didn't make me feel any less guilty, but the weight of the guilt didn't feel like I was being crushed under it. For once, I could breathe and think about Janie without wanting to cry - but I even felt guilty about that. I don't know if my emotions were in overload, but the end of the world seemed to justify it enough for me not to keep me awake. I added some more logs to the fire, and stared into the crackling flames, my feet now propped up on the recliner. I fell asleep that way, the .44 still strapped to my side.
Flirting With Death: Surviving The Infected Page 6