She had held it to her shoulder, squeezed the trigger and practically fell backwards when it fired. Haliday burst out laughing and she simply called him an ass. At 5’7” and 135 pounds, she could have handled it ok; it was just the sheer surprise of the recoil and loud report that caught her off guard.
He pulled out a 22 and told her this was more her style. She said, “That looks cute.” Cute was not quite how Haliday referred to firearms. He gave her a run down on that one, loaded a magazine and let her fire away. She really liked that one. She told him she wanted to buy one and he said, “Next gun show.”
As she was riding toward her house, where she lived with her sister and mother, she rubbed the bruise on her shoulder as it started to ache a bit. She was cursing Haliday under her breath. She had ridden about five miles when she turned onto an access road that led to the county municipal complex, where she was greeted by a sheriff’s deputy who stopped her.
“Where are you going,” he asked? She responded that she was going to meet up with her mother in one of the parking lots so they could go home together. The deputy asked a few questions and was satisfied with her answers, and told her to be careful. He also told her to cover her pistol while on the grounds of the complex for safety’s sake. She pulled her windbreaker down over it and took off.
She rode into the parking lot where her mother was and there were a bunch of people that were standing around talking to each other. She spotted her mother and rode up to her. Her mom had been standing there talking to a friend. This friend looked at Dawn and said, “See, I told you guys to store food and stuff. I hope you have guns.” This lady looked like she was about 80 and showed Dawn a Glock and said, “I have mine.”
Dawn said, “Good for you. You go girl.” At this time, her mom started to change her shoes and she put on a pair of tennis shoes. A quick good-bye and they left. They had about eight miles to go before they made it to their house. Dawn slung her mom’s get-home bag over the bike frame and they walked along.
Dawn looked around at all of the people just standing around in the parking lots. Every once in a while, she spotted a deputy who looked to be standing guard. She asked her mom what everyone was talking about. Her mom said most people think it’s just a big power outage but a couple left. It looked like they were ready for this event too.
The deputies were telling everyone it would be ok, that they suspected it was just an industrial accident at one of the nearby electronics manufacturers that did defense work. If any of them would have taken a walk to the rooftop of the highest building there and looked around, they wouldn’t be saying that. They’d see trouble for miles.
This area was known as automation alley. Something they did must have caused a small interference with the electronics. That of course was just wishful thinking. Shockingly they had some old radios that worked that had been stored in a sub-basement long ago by the county’s emergency management department. They shrugged their shoulders and took off.
The walk was slow, but they moved along at a steady pace. They had to stop every mile for a quick break as Dawn’s mom wasn’t used to walking at all. She merely tolerated Dawn’s preparedness, but didn’t suspect it would amount to anything. She kept the gear in her car only at Dawn’s insistence.
There was no way at her age she was riding a bike, she had told her. The pace was a very slow─ two miles an hour. After about five hours they headed into the entrance to Chrysler’s world headquarters where they met up with Dawn’s sister. She had ridden there herself from about five miles away and had been sitting there waiting.
This parking lot was much the same as the county complex. People were either standing around in bunches talking or sitting wherever they could find a seat and talking about what was going on. There were people who kept trying to turn their phones on every few minutes. The site was surreal. This complex sprawled over 500 acres and had over 10,000 employees.
There were thousands of them just standing around like cattle waiting for feeding time. The mentality of the majority of the people was shocking. Just who did they think was coming to help them and when did they think this would happen? Dawn, along with her mother and sister all wondered what they would start to do when it was completely dark outside.
She glanced toward the sky and thought about how clear the stars would be now. No bright haze from parking lots, billboards and buildings scattered across the country. It would be pure darkness, except for moonlight or starlight. “Time to get going,” she said. They got up and started their trek.
Only about four more miles or so and they should be able to make it home about midnight. All three had pistols, all three could at least point and pull the trigger and they felt safe. Walking along, they just had some small talk, took the occasional drink from their water bottles and nibbled on some granola bars to quell their hunger.
They were walking along the roadway, as there wasn’t any real way to reach their street easily and they didn’t want to cut through one of the metro parks next to their neighborhood. They had passed a couple of other folks heading the same way and didn’t say anything to them. One lady asked them if they had any water.
Dawn’s sister pulled out a small 8oz bottle and handed it to her. She also gave her a granola bar and then just turned away and continued walking without saying anything or even responding to the thank you she received. About a quarter of a mile up, they paused to rest again. It was quite dark out now. Very few stars were out tonight.
While taking a quick moment to stretch, a guy walked out from behind some bushes where he had been hiding. He had seen them coming and wanted a bike. He approached Dawn’s sister and grabbed at her bike and pushed her away. Dawn’s mom stepped over and said, “Stop that” and the guy pushed her hard, causing her to fall to the ground. He had a medium sized pocket knife and opened it, exposing the blade.
Dawn yelled at the guy, who turned to look at her and he saw nothing but muzzle flash. It had been a single shot clean through his heart. Dawn’s sister helped her mom up and they all stood there motionless. They didn’t know what to say. Dawn looked down at the motionless man and threw up all over him. She gagged a bit on her vomit and tried to spit it out, but just puked some more.
She walked a few feet away and opened her water bottle and rinsed her mouth out. She was still dry heaving a bit and they moved a bit further away from the body. Dawn said, “We need to go.”
Her sister looked at her and said, “You shot the guy to death.”
“Well,” she answered, “It was him or us, didn’t you see his knife? Let’s go,” she said again.
They started walking again and no one said anything. Dawn kept thinking they should have just let him take the bike. They didn’t know if he would use the knife or not. He had pushed them around though. But was that enough, she wondered. All she knew was her instinct at the moment led her to squeeze the trigger.
They kept walking the rest of the way, which was another mile and half home. They went inside and opened the garage and put their gear and bikes in the garage and then went into the house. They lit up some candles and went to work. They were tired from the walk, but they were also exhausted from the encounter they had just an hour ago.
They placed some large wooden dowels in the tracks of the windows and door wall, made sure everything was locked and closed the shades. They all just fell asleep right there in the living room. They would get up in the morning and finish what needed to be done then. None of the three really slept well that night.
Right around seven in the morning, Dawn jumped off the couch and ran to the front window and looked outside at the racket. Her neighbor across the street had an old Chevy Nova II that he used to take out on weekends and it used to really make her mad. His routine was to start it, gun it a couple dozen times, then leave it running for almost half an hour before he would leave. He had it straight piped for no reason other than the sound, so there were no mufflers to keep it quieted down.
On her weekends off, she preferred
to sleep in, but was always woken up early by this. She watched for a few minutes and noticed the guy and his wife were loading up the old Chevy with suitcases and boxes. She remembered Haliday telling her that if they were going to bug out to have everything ready beforehand. If they had decided to take extra clothes, use good old army surplus laundry bags.
The reason behind the surplus laundry bags was that they were cloth, thus they were flexible and with the odd shapes of trunks, they could mashed into the tighter spaces to save room. The shapes of suitcases and boxes didn’t really make good use of trunk and cargo spaces. Too much wasted room in his opinion. She wasn’t about to tell the neighbor that though. Screw him. He probably didn’t have them anyway, but trash bags would work.
All those weekends waking up at six in the morning were for nothing. They looked like they were finished and he closed their garage door and got in the old Chevy. Halfway down the driveway it stalled out. He tried to start it again, but no luck. After a couple of minutes, he got out and opened the hood. He wiggled a few wires, checked some connections on the spark plugs, got back in and tried again, but no luck.
He got outside and was visibly upset and glanced toward Dawn, whom he saw standing in the window. She had the biggest smirk on her face and obviously he saw it. “Oh, is this amusing you?” he yelled. Dawn raised her hand, flipped him the bird and then went back into the living room.
That actually felt good, she was thinking to herself. She couldn’t recall ever giving anyone the bird and used to scowl at Haliday for doing so, which happened quite regularly because Haliday suffered some of the worst road rage you could imagine. On their trips to the ranges, inevitably someone driving along pissed him off. He was quick to salute anyone he thought was deserving enough. A quick toot on the horn made sure he had their attention.
When she walked back into the living room, her mother and sister were sitting there. They just stared at her a bit and she said, “What? They just looked at her some more and she glanced down to see what the problem was. She saw blood droplets all over her clothing and the previous night’s events rushed back to her.
She ran to the bathroom where she flipped up the toilet seat and threw up again. There wasn’t a whole lot to come up, but she still managed to empty her stomach. She grabbed a towel and wiped her face off. She knew this was a natural reaction. She knew it would haunt her for some time, until she learned how to handle it. Haliday relayed a story about what to expect.
Years ago in the mid-eighties when Haliday had been stationed down at Fort Stewart Georgia in the 24th MP Co. he had been involved in his first shooting. There was a grunt that had gotten in trouble financially and decided he was going to get out of it by robbing the post credit union.
He walked in one morning with a nylon stocking over his head and a shotgun, along with his demand note. A cashier who spotted him as soon as he walked in had hit the silent alarm button, which went directly to the Provost Marshalls Office where they monitored all of the post’s alarms. Units were dispatched before the guy even made it to the counter.
The road patrol supervisor had been the first to arrive and started approaching the door to glance inside. He didn’t really know any better. He was a freshly promoted sergeant, E-5 and had little experience. His original MOS, or military occupational specialty, was communications.
He had just finished changing his MOS and graduated from the MP academy three months ago and two months before he had gotten his promotion. To top it all off, his English was hard to understand because he was from Puerto Rico. But, being the army, there was no rhyme or reason and here he was in a position he didn’t need to be in.
In the meantime two units showed up toward the back of the credit union and one more up front by the road patrol supervisor. The grunt inside saw the reflection of the blue lights and got scared. He started toward the front door and the road patrol supervisor literally lost it and took off running toward the back of the building.
The grunt exited the building and headed the same way. The unit up front hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet and was in awe at what was happening. The units in back were standing ready when the sergeant came running around the back yelling in Puerto Rican.
Haliday’s senior partner, who was also from Puerto Rico, was the only one who knew what was being said. He yelled, “watch out,” and motioned toward the side of the building. No sooner had the road patrol supervisor passed them by when the grunt came around the side as well.
The four MP’s at the back were yelling for him to stop. The grunt almost fell over trying to stop so quickly. “Drop it, drop it now!” It was in chorus from all four of them. The grunt shifted his stance and raised the shotgun. The sounds of the 1911’s, .45 caliber pistols firing was a deafening sound. The grunt was jerking violently around and then dropped to the ground in a large mass of flesh and blood.
Haliday and his partner approached the grunt’s body slowly after a quick magazine change and one MP from the other car stood watch while the fourth called it in to dispatch. Dispatch acknowledged and said they were sending an ambulance. Wouldn’t do any good for the grunt, but the road patrol supervisor could use it. He was standing there in shock.
This was his worst day as an MP and this would also be his last day as an MP. Looking down at the poor guy, they realized he never had a chance. Between the four of them, 32 shots of .45 had been fired. They only hit the guy 11 times, but with a .45 it was enough to turn him into hamburger. Haliday had never seen anything like that in his life.
He told Dawn the story and told her some of the emotions she could expect if she ever had to do this. There would be shame because you took a life, but you would justify it with the “It was them or us” thought process. There would be anger because the person made you do this and you didn’t want to. There would be sadness you could not associate with anything at all. Sleepless nights would occur at first, but you would eventually get past it. You would get physically sick and probably throw up. But after time, you would learn to live with it. You would never forget it, but you would learn to live with it.
Dawn snapped back from remembering this story, grabbed a trash bag out of the kitchen and went upstairs to her room, where she took the clothes off and put them in the trash bag. She put on fresh clothes and went downstairs, where she tossed the bag in the laundry room. She wasn’t sure if she should wash or burn them. She told her mom and sister to either go change and get ready for some breakfast or just head to the kitchen because they needed to get a lot done and get it done as soon as they could.
Everyone was sitting at the table now, they had boiled up some water and made some instant oatmeal and sat there eating. Her sister asked her what they had to do. Dawn went to the living room and grabbed her notebook. She had a list—she had lists for everything. She always wanted to know what to do and what she needed to have. She didn’t quite have everything they needed, but at least they were ahead of the curve.
She liked the name sheeple she had read and heard on occasion. The sheeple were going to be in big trouble. It was the sheeple she was preparing for. They were also going to be a big problem for those who had taken the time, energy and money, and had prepared for whatever event would change their lives forever.
“Time to get to work,” she said. “First things first.” She hated that saying. Wouldn’t first things always be first? Just like “It is what it is?” Another one she hated. She thought the degradation of the English language was a big part of why this country was turning out the way it was. She remembered stores and gas stations being closed on holidays. People attending church and not just on the holidays. TV being clean and fun.
Her favorite show was Leave it to Beaver. Haliday said he watched it as a kid and she remarked, "It’s good isn’t it?" He burst her bubble by saying he and his friends only watched it because of the pointy bras and boobs like June Cleaver used to have. That drove her nuts. Haliday drove her nuts. He always had something to say. The good old days, she thought.
/> She was trying to keep herself busy thinking of these things, but soon enough the work around the house would do that. She opened the garage door and grabbed some wood. Haliday had helped her make the window covers he used. They got busy putting these on the windows of the lower level. It took two of them and sometimes all three, especially with the door wall to the patio. The lower level was finished. They took a quick break, then readied themselves for more.
The upstairs windows were hard to get to. Only the two smaller bedrooms had an eave under them, with the rest being out of reach. They added a couple more dowels to keep them secured and then retrieved some fire extinguishers from the basement to place by each upper window. The two windows over the eave could be access points, so these they handled differently. Since they actually provided a very good line of sight for the front of the house, they used quarter inch thick Plexiglas, which was secured in a frame that had a couple boards across the middle for strength.
The eave itself would have a few surprises itself. Haliday had taken some two and a half inch nails and painted them black. He then took some heavy duty tar paper and pushed the nails up through them. The pieces of tar paper were trimmed down enough to slide up under the shingles and there were 60 of these ready to go. The eave was a mere 20 feet wide and only 4 feet deep, so there were plenty of foot and knee pokers. Haliday told her, “Kind of like punji sticks like they used in Vietnam.”
She went outside with a ladder from the garage and then put them in place and went back inside when she was done. She locked the garage door down along the rails but did not have grid wall like Haliday. Instead she had four 2X6 boards which when placed vertical spread across the garage door. They were connected at the top with five long screws into the door header.
The bottoms had taken a bit more finesse. There was a base plate attached for strength and then a large hole drilled through. This was attached to eye bolts they had secured in the concrete floor. If someone wanted to push through the door it wouldn’t be that easy. They would meet a good amount of resistance.
Dark Days Rough Roads Page 6