Homefront: A Story of the Future Collapse

by Matthew Gilman

  “Who wants the M16?” Dallas asked.

  Nobody answered.

  “So are we going with the M14?”

  Without an answer Budd handed one of the rifles through the hole in the wall and Ben grabbed the M14 for himself. The men wanted the higher caliber weapon with the range and firepower that came with it. They would carry less ammo, but if they had to use it the animal or person would go down and not get back up.

  “Looks like we’re upgrading,” Kelly said, grabbing his rifle and looking it over. The stock and barrel were painted in a camouflage pattern with red dot scopes on top. The sight was accurate, but the dot was gone. The men would have to line up the iron sights to get an accurate shot, but they could handle the little bit of disappointment that came with it.

  Taking pistols with them, and a few other goodies, the men grabbed theirrucksacks and set up camp in the mess hall.

  “Should we keep a guard at the armory?” Kelly asked. Even though the base was empty of everyone except them, he was afraid to leave the open vault unguarded.

  “Sounds like somebody volunteered,” Budd commented, afraid that with being the lowest rank he would be stuck on guard duty.

  “I’ll do it,” Kelly said, offering to keep an eye on the armory. After the last couple of days, he was looking forward to having some alone time.

  “Ok, we’ll be back at the mess hall. I’ll check in and bring you grub.” Dallas watched the man walk back to the armory. Dallas knew that eventually he might have to destroy the cache of weapons when they left the base.

  Sitting at one of the tables the men ate their meals and discussed the options they had.

  “If we leave we have to destroy the vault.” Clive pointed out what Dallas was already thinking.

  “Agreed,” Dallas said.

  “Woah, now hold on.” Budd apparently did not agree. “Why would we do that?”

  “We have to make sure that American weapons do not fall into the hands of the enemy,” Dallas answered.

  “What enemy? The fire? The fire is gone and ain’t nobody coming here to take our stuff,” Budd argued. “Besides, if you’re so afraid of somebody coming to take your guns, do what my daddy did and bury them in the backyard. It was the first thing he did when he heard Obama was elected.”

  Dallas’ ears perked up.

  “Out of the mouths of babes,” Clive added hearing the answer that nobody had thought of. The men gathered metal lockers from around the base that were not destroyed in rubble. One by one they were carried to the armory where Clive and Kelly took the rifles apart and stored the pistols. With each locker five cans of ammo were placed with it. Sealed airtight the ammo would keep for years in the cool temperature of the ground. The rifles and pistols were another story without cosmoline to coat them in.

  “I wish we had some silica packets to put in with them,” Dallas mentioned.

  “Rice works just as good,” Budd replied. “It absorbs the moisture and keeps things dry.”

  Dallas and Clive looked at one another.

  “How many guns do you have buried at home?” Clive asked.

  “The correct answer is that you can never have enough.” Budd replied and that would be his only answer to the question.

  The lockers were carried to the border of the base and landmarks were chosen for the burial site. Four lockers were buried on the eastern end of the base and that last was buried at the end of the runway in the airfield. This one in particular had an extra supply of ammo for the M14s they were taking with them. The rest of the vault, of which there wasn’t much left, was detonated with a stick of plastic explosives they had found in the vault. Clive had been given the honor to “blow some shit up.”

  The mess hall was emptied and the items that could not be stored long term were taken with the men. The rest of the items were buried along with the locker for when they had to make supply runs. The long term storage was great, but they all agreed they would have to make the food last and only use it in emergencies.

  “There are hunting cabins throughout the woods,” Ben said as the men pondered where to go next.

  “I think those all burnt up boy,” Budd commented. “You forget there was a fire?”

  “The entire forest wasn’t lost,” Dallas said. “I think if we head northeast we will find where the fire ended and come across shelter.”

  “There are some good fishing streams up there,” Ben said. “Maybe catch a salmon run.”

  “And people call me a redneck,” Budd said.

  “You are a redneck,” Kelly said.

  “That gives redneck a bad name,” Ben commented.

  “White trash,” Budd corrected. “Call a spade a spade. Don’t sugar coat it. I know what I am.”

  The men laughed as they began hiking northeast.

  “I am white trash. I do live in a trailer with my mom…” Budd started to sing Eminem as they came to the end of the airfield and disappeared into the forest.

  Chapter 7

  Public transportation was out of service. A handmade sign had been posted over the bus stop bench telling people the buses had not been running. Sophie read the sign and shrugged her shoulders. Maybe this was a sign to go back home. She was already dreading coming to Seattle and now the city was giving her good reason to move back home when the power came back on. Going back home to her apartment, she pulled her bike out of the bedroom and filled the tires. She rode down to Pike Place Market remembering it was Wednesday, the day the market was open, so she could buy some food to take home and cook on the grill.

  The Market was not open today. The booths were empty and she wondered what the hell was going on. The street lights weren’t coming on, and there was no news about when the power would be back on. The alley for the Gum Wall was empty with little light coming in for people to see. The streets were filled with people but they appeared confused. The purpose of being a consumer was lost without the power to run a credit card. The ATM machines were starting to be vandalized by people wanting to get their cash. Even if they had cash they couldn’t spend it because the stores weren’t opening. Some of the bars open during the day were accepting cash. Opening a bottle and pouring a glass was easy enough without electricity. Some bars hung signs that said “warm beer.”

  Back at the apartment Sophie watched as people loaded up their bikes and attempted to ride out of town until the power came back on. Some people with older VW bugs and buses were able to get them running again and took others out of town with them. Sophie thought about asking for a ride but none of the people were going to Montana. Sophie stayed in her apartment and slowly went through the food she had in the cupboards for days. Then the days turned into weeks. The food didn’t last that long.

  There were rumors in the neighborhood about fishing boats giving away free food in the harbor. With no other options Sophie went to the harbor and saw every other person crammed on the concrete shore waiting for a boat to arrive. When one did finally appear out in the ocean the people already started to panic, eager for the arrival. As if they could bring in the boats themselves, people shoved and pushed to be closer to shore. Some were shoved into the water dropping twenty feet into the harbor. The fishing vessel came into the harbor and saw the people waiting for it. The crew panicked and Sophie knew what was going to happen. The crew moved around on the deck and the boat started to turn. On the shore the crowd shouted and yelled for the boat to dock. The crew refused to listen and returned to sea.

  Turning around from the scene, Sophie started her ride back to the apartment. She started to wonder if she should try to ride back home or at least out of the city where she could live off of the land like her father had taught her.

  The ride back to the apartment was tiring and she could tell she wasn’t getting enough calories for trips like this. If she didn’t start bringing food back home she wouldn’t be able to leave the apartment. She thought about fishing but with the drought many of the salmon and other river fish were developing fungus on their skin, killing the
m and preventing them from making it back to their spawning sites. Eating sick or dead fish was out of the question.

  Without trucks coming into the city there was little food to be had. Sophie placed all of the food she had left on the counter and looked it over. Crackers, canned goods, spices, baking materials, pasta, and odds and ends made up the quickly dwindling pile. She looked at the food wondering how long she had to wait for the power to come back on and started dividing the food into rations.

  Chapter 8

  The mountains and hills were covered in a black film with white rock. A charcoal drawing of its former self, the landscape was devoid of green and all other life. There was no other option but walking. Fortunately for the men this was what they were trained to do. Not so much in the physical sense, but the mental aspect of walking endless miles through devastation, even if they didn’t know where that was.

  Stopping for water, Dallas and Ben went over the maps to plot a course. The trees were gone and the landscape had lost its ability to support life, but the roads and hills were still there. They could either make travel easier or more difficult. Both men agreed to take a valley through the northeast to stay close to possible water sources and continue in that direction. When all else fails, continue in one direction. The men covered about forty miles in two days. When Ben reached the peak of a hill they were climbing, he stopped and dropped his bag. The rest of the men wondered if this was good news or bad.

  Kelly took the initiative and walked up behind Ben to take in the same view and dropped hisrucksack as well.

  The rest of the men walked up from behind to see the greenest country any of them could remember. After days of taking in grey and black the lush green tree tops and grass filled valleys had never looked so good. Dallas imagined this was comparable to a man stuck in a desert and finding an oasis for the first time. After hiking for fifteen miles that day they dropped their bags and took a break. They were home, wherever that was.

  Following a two track trail off the main road, the men found a hunting lodge that had not been serviced for a few years. It was common for people from California to come up and buy a piece of land to “get away” and then forget they owned it. In some cases, the economy might take a downturn and the forgotten cabin is repossessed without the owner caring one way or another. Hidden at the end of the two track was one such cabin.

  Standing with a green copper roof and log stacked walls that were filled with moss, there appeared to be a one room building with an outhouse fifty feet behind the structure and one wood burning fireplace to heat it. The heat wasn’t a big concern considering that the Washington coast didn’t see much snowfall with all of the warm air coming in from the Pacific Ocean.

  “Think they got Netflix in there?” Budd asked at random.

  Opening the front door to the cabin the men looked around at what would be their new home, if only temporarily. Against the left wall stood a handmade desk and a row of books on a shelf above it. To the right was a food preparation area with tin cans of sugar, flour, and other common kitchen supplies. Across the walls hung decorative items one might find in a faux cabin for rich people. Old snowshoes hung on hooks forming a V pattern, skis were in the shape of an X across the room from the snowshoes, and an old bolt action rifle showing signs of rust and possible dry rot hung above the fireplace. Ben nodded his head seeing what he expected and moved over to the fireplace to look up the chimney. A nest was built against the wall of the chimney, most likely from swallows. Ben debated if a fire would burn it out, not wanting to risk carbon monoxide poisoning or chimney fire.

  “No running water,” Kelly pointed out. “Where do you think they get their supply?”

  “A cabin like this they would have built not far from the source,” Ben suggested. “Probably a stream or creek in the area, unless there is a hand pump outside we didn’t see.” It was something they would figure out in the next day or so.

  The guys picked their spots in the cabin for sleeping areas and started to settle in. If there wasn’t a source for water, they would move on and only spend the night. Dallas kept his fingers that they would find something nearby.

  The next morning, Budd found a small river a quarter of a mile away down a slow descending hill. Climbing the hill would get old quickly and some of the men thought about ways to pump water to the cabin. Without electricity the project was pointless. Containers of water were carried back to the cabin for cooking and drinking, while the men were forced to do their much needed bathing on the banks of the river.

  Without fishing gear, Ben sharpened spears and decided to try something he always wanted to do but was illegal before the destruction of D.C. Ben and Budd made torches and went down to the river just after sunset. Holding the burning torch over the water, Ben waited until a fish jumped out of the water, speared it midair and dropped it in a basket they found in the cabin.

  “I wish we could toss some dynamite in,” Budd commented. “My brother did that all the time. Toss a stick in and move the boat around picking up all the fish.”

  “What is the fun in that?” Ben said, jabbing at another fish missing this time. He accounted the first fish to beginner’s luck.

  “Who said anything about fun? We just wanted some fish and were hungry. Why wait all day when you can get your fish now?” Budd tried to move the torch lower to the water in an effort to entice the fish.

  “Keep it high or I don’t get a clear shot,” Ben said, waiting for the next fish.

  An hour after they started they carried a half dozen fish back to the cabin. There was a reason the method was outlawed long ago for everyone except Native Americans. The easy results in a short period of time caused havoc on the fish population. The men went to work picking a fish and cleaning it in their own way.

  Ben used a pocket knife to clean the scales off and gutted the fish, a process that took maybe ten minutes from start to finish. In the meantime, Dallas was attempting to fillet his fish until Ben pointed out that they didn’t have any oil or clean pans to fry the fish in.

  Looking at the mangled fish, Dallas handed it over to Ben in hopes of salvaging his mess. Cooked over the fireplace with sticks, the men were handed their fish one at a time. With little or no flavor at all, the disappointing meal left them desiring civilization.

  “Reminds me of my childhood,” Clive commented putting his completely picked clean fish on the table.

  “Boring?” Kelly asked, setting his fish down in disgust.

  “Fresh fish,” Clive corrected. “Everyone helping to make a meal. This was how people were meant to live.”

  “Amen,” Ben said, finishing his fish as well.

  “Amen,” Budd added.

  The men were going to have to figure out another solution to their food. All of them wanted to start hunting, but the warm weather would spoil the meat. That didn’t stop Budd from playing around with traps that he made back in Kentucky. Some were designed for people, but for large game they would work. Ben made fish traps in the river using long sticks and creating a pattern that allowed water through, but not fish that were too large to fit between the sticks. Clive and Kelly went through their Army survival manual, only to find that the generic text was too general and not specific to the region. They noticed items like pine nuts were described, but these were only available for a short time and created a lot of work for few calories.

  The fish continued to come in from the river and the men worked at exploring their immediate area for food. Berries and nuts were found next to borders with open fields. Small game added a different taste to the evening meals; at this point anything was welcome.

  Winter approached and instead of trying to hike to civilization, the men decided to stay at the cabin with their known food source and wait until spring.

  Beards grew thick and long as the months passed. Clive’s stood out as bushy and curled, the thick black hair made his jaw appear huge if one wasn’t paying attention. As the winter months progressed the men lost weight, but were generally h
ealthy. Without supplements Dallas’ body reverted back to a thin athletic build much like a long distance runner, but with thicker legs. Because much of their diet was protein, Dallas was able to keep his smaller muscles toned by doing a quick calisthenics workout in the morning when he woke up. A series of push-ups and chin-ups using a beam on the ceiling kept his upper body in shape. He missed free weights and that was something he was eager to use again.

  For two days Ben disappeared, saying he was going for a walk. What nobody knew was that he was hunting using a spear to bring game home. Perched on top of a tree, Ben waited for his game to come by. Bringing apples, from a nearby tree, Ben sliced one open and laid them around the tree below him. The method was stupid since breaking his leg would make the journey home either painful or impossible. There was also the risk of breaking his back if he landed wrong. Hours passed and in the early hours of the evening, with the sun setting on the opposite side of the mountains, a doe and fawn appeared. The doe smelled the air and followed the scent to Ben’s tree. He watched as the Doe approached the treats he’d laid out. The deer was now ten feet below him and Ben positioned himself with the spear. Free falling, he made the mistake of trying to saddle the deer instead of stomping on its spine. Part of this technique was to break the spinal cord, making it impossible for the deer to run away afterwards. The spear did plunge into the deer’s body and it staggered for a brief moment as Ben cupped his groin in pain. Looking over, the deer fell with the end of the sprear bouncing up and down from its body. The fawn ran away the moment Ben dropped from the tree.

  With the daylight leaving, Ben took out his compass and marked the direction he would need to travel back to the cabin. He pulled the spear from the body of the doe and gutted the animal to reduce the weight. He doubted the rest of the guys had any use for the entrails. Ben had trouble getting the carcass on his shoulders to carry it back to the cabin. There were other ways to move the dead body, but they involved time he didn’t have. He would eat to his heart’s content once he was home. The tenderloins would be his and he would eat them until he was full and passed out on his sleeping bag.