Opus Odyssey_A Survival and Preparedness Story

by Boyd Craven III

  Opus chuffed and Tina snorted a disgusted sound.

  “No way, he didn’t… no. You didn’t ask, he just agrees with you to be a butthead to me.”

  Opus sneezed, which made Tina turn red in the face and made me laugh.

  15

  Rick

  The show was fantastic. The first two days we walked around, talking to vendors. I couldn’t help it. I had to check out the Apocalypse RVs that Stan and I had talked about. The one I loved was a converted Deuce and a half. It had all the modern conveniences that War Wagon had, but it was almost three feet higher off the ground. There was also a smaller version and a tricked out Humvee.

  I found out the pricing for laughs and giggles, then reluctantly decided to stick with War Wagon instead of lusting for a half a million dollar BOV that would enable me and a team of ten to live out the zombie apocalypse in comfort, style and badassery.

  Walking around, I also ran across something that caught my eye. There was a vendor there who was selling home sized freeze dryers. You could literally put any sort of food inside it, follow the instructions and process fresh or cooked produce and meals and turn it into something that could be stored for a long time. The unit itself was the size of a small washing machine. I grabbed a pamphlet, but realized that unless I was farming, gardening or buying huge bulk of fresh produce, it was something that was just a curiosity to me.

  Tina and I spent some time talking with a husband and wife who were selling quick take-down geodesic dome framed tents. This especially caught my attention. The metal framework when taken down was heavy, but not as heavy as you’d expect it to be.

  There were discussion panels, one with some of the authors I’d come to meet and get autographs from. The one I sat through, with a bored Opus and Tina, was about how to start prepping and how to use common items in unusual ways in a survival situation. Really, how to MacGyver some things. Then one of the authors was asked how to involve little kids in prepping.

  His response was to introduce them slowly to it. Start off with Boy Scouts, camping. Work with the kids, hand in hand. Figure out what you need, make a list, pack and go do it. When you’re all done, ask the kids if there was something they wanted but found out they didn’t have. If they didn’t have it, did they need it? Was it practical?

  Then plan out a new trip. Make a new list. Keep pushing the envelope, maybe take a little less food, but plan on doing more hunting or fishing. There’s no sense having a truly apocalyptic scenario and practice runs of getting on CBW gear if you’re not getting them into the mindset of thinking for themselves in a potential survival situation - without calling it that.

  I noticed Tina paid attention to that one a little bit, though I wasn’t sure if it was the talk about getting the kids involved or the discussed increased parental involvement. I caught her look and grinned.

  Busted.

  She’d been thinking about kids.

  Someday.

  There was so much there, but the toy department was one area I wanted to visit, once I had my autographs from A. American and AR Shaw, the Watson’s and Kate Morris. The toy department stocked everything a felonious-minded pen-monkey could ever dream of. Traps, knives, swords, guns. So many guns. Guns I’d only seen or heard of, including some stuff that Hickock45 from YouTube talked about.

  The final day, I took my cash stash, something I had been forcing myself to go without until then. I had some serious itchy palms, and I knew some of the toys I wanted to buy weren’t going to sell out. I was patient and made sure to talk to the vendors and learn as much as I could. Nobody could be an expert at everything, and the best thing I was good at (writing) I wasn’t an expert on, so I weighed the pros and cons, and on the third day, I walked up to the firearms dealer while Tina was checking out the puppies for the eleventy billionth time.

  I made her quit dragging me to the booth after the first nineteen times because I didn’t need her to wear me down to get a puppy. I knew they were still too young for their forever homes, but when she wasn’t looking, I’d already gotten a card from the trainer. Still, Tina didn’t see the guy she’d got Opus from. I had asked her to let me know if she ran across him because I’d have liked to meet him, too.

  “You sure you want the Kel-Tec?” the dealer asked, pulling a box out.

  “Yeah, I remembered what you said and did some research. For my type of hiking and camping, I’m looking for something that will fit in my pack. If the Henry Survival Rifle wasn’t in a .22, I kind of like that better.”

  “Yeah, .223/5.56 does have more kick to it. I hate to talk guys out of guns they want to buy though. Just know you won’t be hitting quarters with a scope at a hundred yards. More like a two or three-inch grouping.”

  “I’ve got a heavier gun for my quarter eradication strategy,” I grinned, thinking of my dad’s rifle, handed down to me.

  “No problem. What kind of magazines do you want? It comes with the basics but…”

  “How about we mix and match some sizes. Two of each, whatever you have.” I said, hoping I could get it all bagged, in the van and out of sight before Tina saw me.

  This was a purchase made more out of want, than lust of something different and shiny that had no basis in need.

  “Drum magazines too? You know it takes standard AR mags, right?”

  “Yeah, I mean… How about one drum magazine?” I told him in response, and couldn’t help but grin as he noticed that I was serious.

  “Ammunition?”

  “Not today,” I told him, “I’ve already—”

  “Rick!”

  I turned to see Tina, with Opus at her side. On the other side of her was a familiar looking man with one hand on her shoulder, pointing at me.

  “Craig?”

  Piles of magazines and the box with the SU-16a were being heaped in front of me. “I’ll be right back,” I told the vendor.

  “I’ll start tallying this up for you.”

  “Thanks. A friend I haven’t seen since high school just…”

  “It’s cool. If I get bored, I can help someone else,” he told me, and I looked to see if he was being snippy, but he was smiling and made a head motion toward Tina and Craig.

  I walked over with my hand out, smiling ear to ear.

  “Craig, holy sh—”

  “Wait, you know each other?!” Craig said, looking confused from me to Tina, and back again.

  He had slimmed down a ton, and if I hadn’t checked his message from the other day, I wouldn’t have recognized him.

  “Yeah. Tina, this is Craig, he’s the old school buddy of mine who moved to Colorado!”

  “Well, yeah, I know. Craig is the trainer who got me Opus,” Tina said, suddenly acting awkward and strange.

  “Holy shit, small world!” I told him.

  “Yeah well… I didn’t do all of it. I mostly train dogs for SAR work. When Tina contacted me looking for a protection dog, I got ahold of my breeder in Hungary who specializes in this kind of thing. Tina put down a deposit, and I flew out there and flew him home. He’s good at what he does,” Craig said, reaching down to pet him, but he backed up and pressed himself close to Tina, an action I’d seen him often do with guys around the female human he owned.

  “That’s crazy. How did you get into dog training?” I asked him.

  “Well, I was originally a handler in the Air Force. When I got out a couple years ago, I started to breed pups, but most of my work is with training now.”

  “Did you bring any puppies with you?” Tina asked, looking at me slyly.

  “No, I have somebody dog-sitting for me at my place for a few days so I could come up here. I can’t believe you’re out here, man. I haven’t seen you in forever,” Craig said, turning back to me.

  I was excited to see him, but needed to finish my transaction. “Yeah, this is really cool. Hold on. I’ll be right back. I’m checking out over here,” I said, hooking a thumb over my shoulder.

  Tina shot me a puzzled look, but I turned around and saw the ve
ndor I’d been talking with smiling. He’d put the SU-16’s box in a large shopping bag, and the magazines were stacked in two smaller woven bags.

  “Wow, thanks. What’s the damage?” I asked him.

  He told me, and I tried not to choke, but I’d asked for two of every magazine and the total wasn’t really that expensive. I looked over my shoulder at Tina who was talking to Craig again, Opus near her side, while I pulled out my money clip and then counted the bills. What a small world… I got my change and loaded up and walked back toward them.

  “I’m heading outside to drop some stuff off, so I don’t have to carry it around the rest of the day, do you guys want to come? Maybe grab some lunch and catch up?”

  “I can’t stay long,” Craig said. “I’ve got some computer work to do and a couple quotes to put together. I just drove up for the day though. Tomorrow is a workday.”

  “I can’t believe you drove all this way to say hi,” Tina said, smiling.

  “It’s no big deal. Not that far of a drive, as long as there’s no ice on the highways. There was also a breeder friend I needed to get in touch with,” Craig said. “But I can give you a hand out to your van.”

  I gave him a bag with magazines. He looked down and smiled when he saw what was in it.

  “Stocking up?” he asked.

  “Yeah, never know when you won’t be able to get them anymore,” I told him, smiling.

  We headed out. “Hey, did you get a chance to go see A. American?” I asked him, nodding to the booth near the main aisle near the door.

  “Author, right? Wrote the Going Home Series?”

  “That’s him—”

  “I thought Rick was going to hump his leg. It was funny watching him meet one of his idols,” Tina interrupted, grinning.

  “That’s a mental image I didn’t need,” Craig told her. “What do you think, Opus, you teach him that one?”

  Opus was silent but made some sort of whining noise I took to mean a negative. Good boy, he was sticking up for me. Bros before yoyos. Craig stopped at the back of the van, and I juggled bags to my left hand so I could get to the keys. I opened the back and then slung my bags in, taking the bag from Craig as well.

  “Wow man, you camping?” he asked, seeing the gear I had packed but hadn’t yet used.

  “We were talking about it, but we kept finding ourselves in hotels and motels,” Tina spoke up.

  “Ah, well, it sounds like fun. You guys should check out the Arches National Park if you’re still planning on heading south.”

  “That’s on my list,” Tina said.

  “Yeah, I had planned on it too, but it’s good to hear we’re on the same page. Hey, how’s your little brother doing? I haven’t seen him in a while.

  Craig’s face clouded over. “He died. It was about the time Tina here got Opus.”

  “Oh man, what happened? I’m sorry, I mean…” I stammered.

  “No, it’s fine, I know what you meant. It’s just… my little brother got himself into a jam, and bad things happened. Still don’t talk about it much.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Tina and I chorused at the same time.

  If it weren't a somber moment, then I would have shouted “jinx!” and told Tina she owed me a coke. As it was, we both just let it go.

  “Ancient history. I gotta run. Give me a shout if you’re going to be headed my way!”

  “I will,” I said and shook his offered hand. “I’ll see you around.”

  We said our goodbyes and I stood there with Tina and Opus watching him leave. The parking lot at the fairgrounds was huge, and he was soon lost in a minefield of vehicles.

  “Wow, small world. You didn’t tell me you knew Craig,” I told her.

  “I don’t really. I answered an ad, put my deposit down and got Opus. I went to somebody else for them to teach me the training commands my fuzzy buddy knew,” she said, her words turning into a baby coo before recovering. “Craig was in the process of moving, but he had somebody local he’d recommended. I guess they work with the Genesee County Sheriff’s Department.”

  “Ahhh, I see,” I pulled her close and hugged her tight.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Just weird that as small a world as this is… but man, it was good to see him. His little brother used to try to play with us as kids. Kind of a shock to hear that he’s… dead.”

  “Yeah, he was kind of vague about that. Must have been bad. Drugs?”

  “Could be,” I admitted, “There was little else to do growing up in our town. It was mostly weed though.”

  “What about meth? Even at your place up north, meth was getting cooked up on the sly.”

  “I guess that’s possible. Besides, we’re gonna get married soon, so it’s our place up north,” I told her, closing the back door.

  “So, what did you buy?” She asked me.

  “A boomstick with a ton of magazines.”

  “Where’s the ammo?” She leaned over and peered in the window.

  I love this woman.

  16

  Rick

  We left the day after I bought the SU-16 and saw Craig. Before that though, we’d gone back inside and bought a thousand rounds of 5.56 in different types, bullet weights, and different color tips. I knew some of those colors weren’t necessarily legal in Michigan, but I didn’t ask too many questions and paid cash for ammo. Unlike firearms, ammo didn’t need a background check… yet. At least in Utah. I was thrilled that my California friends had had a couple bills shut down though. They were looking at a capacity limit on their magazines, and there were potential background checks for ammo purchases, I think.

  I didn’t pay too much attention to it, but since I’d been on the prepping forums more than the writer forums in recent months, I’d been more aware. Still, the civil unrest or loss of power due to a storm or man-made event was my biggest worry. That was what I mainly prepped for, but now that I’d been made more aware, I’d tried to learn more about things I knew I was weak on. Trapping for one. I’d learned about trapping from my dad but I’d never really had an interest like he did in it. He made it look easy. Set a snare or trap, bait it, and come back and collect meat or something for fur.

  So, I did what any modern-day person would do: I started watching YouTube videos. There was one channel called The Wild North, run by a wily Canadian named Andrew. It had gotten me some looks from Tina at the hotel while I’d watched his latest video about making a birch bark moose call, and the way he’d cuss up a storm raised her eyebrows, but it was entertaining, and I learned a ton of stuff about it. Heck, I’d even bought a snare kit on Amazon from a company my father used to order from directly.

  “Where are we going to stop?” Tina asked me, breaking my inner monologue.

  “I think it’s up here a little bit,” I told her.

  “The scenery changed so much from Salt Lake City,” Tina said. “It was like we were in the tallest parts of the mountains, and now it’s turning into desert. Wait, don’t say anything,” Tina said, holding up her hand in a universal stop gesture.

  Opus chuffed, and then put his nose in her side, rubbing his head against her ribs in a loving manner.

  “I wasn’t going to. Like you, I did a little googling myself and printed some maps out. Since you mentioned we were going to see the arches on my Facebook page, I got all kinds of tips on where to go, and I think it’s time we should go do a little camping. Maybe a day or two?”

  “I was hoping you were going to say that,” Tina said, “I noticed that when you don’t get to play in the woods for a while, you get… cranky.”

  “I’m an introvert, not a hermit,” I told her. “I don’t hate everyone, just—”

  “Being around too many people. I know, I’ve gotten to know and grown to love your quirks. After being around people for three solid days, and I mean a lot of people… you’re ready to soak up some solitude.”

  I really, really loved this woman.

  “Yeah, I’m that predicta
ble, huh?” I asked her.

  “Yep. The question is, where are we going to camp?”

  “I was hoping you’d ask that. What do you think about hiking in somewhere near the Double Arch? We’d have to park, hike in and find someplace, but there should be water, according to a topo map, in a canyon bottom we’d have to travel near.”

  “Just because it shows there’s water there doesn’t mean it doesn’t dry up in the summertime,” Tina said, pulling her phone out.

  “Now you remember to charge it,” I teased.

  “Hey!”

  Opus barked happily.

  We exited the highway and took the roads as indicated by my phone’s GPS. It had lost signal a few times, but the route was pretty straightforward. We had a map, and road signs were pointing the way to the trailhead. We weren’t alone either, there were a few cars behind us and RVs parked along the side of the road in what’s called disbursed camping, or in the case of the RV, boon docking. The RVs had solar panels either hanging off the side, set up on the roof or on racks on the ground, weighted down with sandbags, probably filled on-site just for that purpose.

  I marveled at that as I drove slowly. Opus had fallen asleep again, bored. He would have fun tonight, though. This was the desert, and the only thing more gorgeous than the scenery was my soon-to-be wife. It was a sappy thought, but this entire trip had been full of sappy thoughts. Probably my body’s own defense mechanism to beat down the fear of meeting her father and mother. Yikes.

  “There it is, there’s our spot!” Tina said excitedly.

  It wasn’t a marked spot, nor the trailhead, but instead, she’d been looking for a place for us to pull off, set up the groundsheet, the tent… but this was right next to the road.

  “You want to park so close to everyone else?” I asked her, confused.

  “No silly. Park here, but look up there,” she said pointing.

  If I hadn’t been going so slow, I might have veered off the road. Instead, I looked at the spot she was pointing to off to my left. It was part of the… hill, mountain… but it had flattened out, and there were some drifts of sand mixed in the rocky area.