Magnetic:
A small Texas town
By: David Lisenby
This book is dedicated to my father, Houston Harold “Harry” Lisenby. He taught me some of the greatest lessons I learned and needed to know to get by in this life. Honesty. Integrity. Dedication. Youthfulness. Humanity. Openness. HIDY-HO.
First, and foremost, I would like to thank God. Without Him, I would be nothing. None of us would.
I would like to thank my love, Marsha Reed, for her patience as I hid away in my mancave for days to complete this work of fiction. You ae a very inspiring person and I am blessed to have you in my life.
Thanks to Roxie for being my cover model and for allowing me to bounce ideas off you.
And finally, to those humans who have served as a basis for the characters in this book, thank you. These characters are not entirely you but have allowed me to bring each character to life by imagining what you might do or say in these circumstances.
DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of fiction. The locations in the story are a fictious account of actual places in Southeast Texas. No business, governmental entity or public servant depicted in the story is an actual, living human. Any resemblance of any character to any other human, either alive or dead, is purely intentional. However, as stated in the beginning of this disclaimer, this is a work of fiction. Basing a character on a real person helps make the character come alive in the mind of the reader and not meant, in any way, shape, or form intended to criticize, mock, make fun of or insult the human the writer draws from. If anyone is offended, for any reason, about the characters, locations or the overall storyline, please accept my apologies in advance. Just remember, however, that this is a work of fiction that only lives in the mind of the writer and on the following pages.
Copyright 2018 – David Lisenby – All Rights Reserved – ISBN: 978-1-7310-5424-1
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 01 – Dawn of a New Day ……….….………. page 8
Chapter 02 – Road Trip …………………….…..…… page 33
Chapter 03 – Meanwhile, in a bunker far away ……... page 52
Chapter 04 – Six Feet from the Edge ………….…….. page 62
Chapter 05 – A New Direction ……………………… page 75
Chapter 06 – Lindsey Landing ……………………… page 93
Chapter 07 – The Magic Bus ……………………….. page 122
Chapter 08 – Group Meeting ……………………….. page 140
Chapter 09 – Abednego and the Bear ……….……… page 155
Chapter 10 – A Long Day ………………….,,,,,,,,…. page 170
Chapter 11 – A Long Night ………………..………. page 194
Chapter 12 – Whisper Will ………………………… page 227
Chapter 13 – A New Dawn; A new Day ……….….. page 255
Chapter 14 – A New Life …………………………... page 271
Chapter 1
Dawn of a new day
Harold slowly opened his eyes as he lay next to his wife. It was hot, typical for summertime in Southeast Texas. The darkness beyond the blinds indicated that it was either still raining outside or it wasn’t yet sunrise. He glanced over to the digital clock on the dresser. There were no numbers shining in the darkness.
Duh!
The sound of a growling stomach filled the air. It was Harold’s stomach. The smell of the first pot of coffee in the morning always made his stomach growl. Nothing unusual about that. However, the growling was probably the only thing this particular morning that was normal.
Harold’s heart was heavy. He knew that the first thing he needed to do once the sun came up (or in the rain if that was how the weather turned out) would be to go out and dig a grave for his beloved mother and another for Levi. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that an emp had actually occurred and dealing with the death of his mom was … complicated.
Alice had been in poor health for some years. She was an insulin dependent diabetic who never really took good care of herself, instead being a workaholic focused on taking care of her family. All those years resulted in her ultimate health issues, including going completely blind over the past four or five years.
Harold and Kay had sold their business about two years ago and moved Alice into their home where she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life in a nursing home. They did so willingly. They did it out of love and respect for a woman who had given so much of herself to so many during her professional life.
Sure, Harold had known that her ultimate prognosis wasn’t good. The level of her COPD diagnosis had resulted in her doctors recommending and ordering in-home hospice care. That, in itself, said a lot.
Regardless of the cause or the contributing factors, the fact remained that she had died. Harold was heartbroken. He couldn’t tell her friends, her other children, her grandchildren. They wouldn’t have a chance to attend a funeral or say good-bye.
“You ok, Babe?” his wife asked in the darkness.
“I will be,” he said as he reached out and found her hand, taking it in his.
They lay silently for a few minutes. Hand in hand. Neither of them had slept well. It was muggy, and the air was heavy.
“I guess I’m going to grab a cup of coffee and go out and feed the animals,” Harold finally said. The scent of coffee again tickled his nostrils.
“Will you have Roxie bring me a cup?” Kay asked as her husband slowly rose from the bed.
“Of course,” he replied. He walked to the other side of the bed, leaned over and kissed his bride on the forehead. He then turned, lifted the blinds and was pleased to see stars in the sky above.
“Looks like the rain has passed,” he said. “At least for now, anyway.”
“Good,” Kay said. “I know you’ve got a lot to do today. I’d hate it if you had to spend the day soaking wet. You know you better take care of yourself or you may have a pneumonia relapse.” Harold had battled pneumonia a couple of months ago and was just getting back to around 80 per cent of his normal self.
“Yes, Dear,” he said. Those two words are the key to a solid marriage. Say them. Mean them. Live by them. Happy wife, happy life. Just sayin’.
Harold slipped into his overalls and boots.
Walking into the kitchen, he saw Roxie and Arlene sitting at the dining room table. They seemed to be deep in conversation. Harold grabbed his cup and filled it to the rim with hot, steaming coffee. He took a small sip, burning his lip and tongue in the process. He also realized that he had not yet added his spoonful of sugar.
“Mornin’ sleepy head,” said Roxie. “thought you was gonna’ sleep all day.” Harold knew that Roxie usually got up around 4 am each morning to get her husband off to work. He figured Arlene must be in the same habit.
“Morning ladies,” he replied. Arlene looked over at him and nodded as she sipped her coffee.
“We was thinkin’ we’d use that ol’ pickup an take Levi home,” Roxie said. “His mama lives down on McGallion Road an’ his girlfriend lives just a few houses down from me. Figured it’d be better to do that than to bury ‘im here.”
Harold looked at Arlene. “You agree?” he asked. She nodded.
“I only met him a couple of days ago, but we had a lot of time together in that short time,” she said. “Levi was a good kid. He helped me a lot. He was determined to get home and I’d like to make sure he gets there.”
“I don’t have a problem with that,” Harold said. He knew better than to argue with a determined lady … especially when there were two of them. “I’ll put five gallons of gas in the truck and take all of that wire and stuff out of the back where Levi can ride back there.”
“You can have a
ll that stuff for all I care,” Arlene said. “I’m pretty sure the boys we took that truck from had stolen it. They were jerks. The don’t deserve any ill-gotten gains.”
“I’ll likely be able to find good use for it,” Harold said. “Ya’ll need anything else for the trip?”
“You have any .38 shells?” Arlene asked? “I have about five rounds left in the clip. I don’t know what, or who, we’ll run into on the way there or back. I’d like to be able to defend myself.”
“I’m sure I can hook you up with another clip and fill the one you have,” he replied. Harold then looked toward Roxie. “You want to use the 12 gauge?” he asked her.
“If ya’ don’t mind,” she answered. “I’ll probably come back here if the ol’ man ain’t home, if that’s alright with you.”
“Kay would appreciate that,” he replied. “So would I.”
Harold sat his cup down on the counter and walked back into the bedroom. He retrieved the ammo and the clip for Arlene from its safe place in the closet. He also grabbed a side pack and filled it with 12-gauge shells. The shotgun was already loaded, but extra shells were always good to have. He told Kay the plan and returned to the kitchen.
Roxie had already filled Kay’s cup with coffee and was standing just outside the bedroom door. “I’ll take this to her while you feed those animals,” she said. “They’re prolly starved near death by now.”
Pecker, the Rhode Island Red rooster crowed outside. Timing is everything.
Harold nodded. He leaned the shotgun by the living room door and handed Arlene the clip and shells. “You know how to shoot that thing?” he asked. Arlene nodded.
“You don’t wanna be on the business end of that gun if she’s usin’ it,” came a voice from the darkness of the mancave at the other end of the room. Apparently, Beetle was also awake. “I seen her shoot a copperhead three times, rapid fire.”
“I never would have guessed that,” Harold said. Arlene had once been a frequent visitor to their house. She had gone to nursing school with Alice and the two had worked together several times in their professional careers. Both were dedicated to old people, working predominately in nursing homes. She hadn’t been here for over a year, since before she lost her husband.
Beetle slowly walked into the kitchen as she stretched. “You have a cold Dr. Pepper?” she asked. Harold pointed toward the fridge, which she opened and reached into. The “pssssssst” as she opened the soft drink filled the house. Beetle took a small sip, followed by a big gulp.
Harold walked over, grabbed his cup of coffee and took a long sip. “Reckon I’ll go on and feed the animals and then get the truck ready for you,” he said. “The sooner ya’ll leave the better. Most people will probably sleep in this mornin’ since it was such a long day yesterday.”
He drank the last of the coffee from his cup and put it in the kitchen sink. As he walked into his mancave he noticed he was being followed. “I’m gonna give you a hand,” Beetle said from behind him.
Never turn down help.
“Why don’t you top off the generator with gas?” Harold asked as the two walked into the back yard. “There’s a can over in that lean-to that should have plenty of fuel in it. I’ll feed the critters and then we can work together on getting’ that fencing out of the back of the truck.”
The two busied themselves in the near darkness with their morning chores. In short order, both finished and met at the old pickup just as the sun began to rise. Harold started removing the contents of the back of the truck as Beetle emptied a 5-gallon gas can into its tank. They worked together to unload the rolls of wire and bales of t-posts.
Just as they finished up, Calvin came walking across the road with a shovel in his hand. “You had any coffee yet?” Harold asked. Calvin shook his head from side to side. “Go on in the house and grab a cup. We’ll be in there in a minute to join you.”
“You want me to get them to take you home before they go to Caney Head?” Harold asked Beetle once Calvin was out of earshot. “This may be the best time to go if that’s what you want to do.”
“Nah,” answered Beetle. “I ain’t got nothin’ at that house and I’m sure they don’t want me there anyway. I’d much rather stick around here if that’s alright. I’d earn my keep.”
“You know you’re welcome here,” Harold replied. “Things in the world are gonna change fast, so you have to be ready for ‘em and we’ll have to work together. You’ll have to trust us, and we’ll have to be able to trust you. You think you can handle that?”
“Yes, Sir,” Beetle answered. “Ya’ll can count on me, 100 per cent.”
“O.K.,” Harold said. “Go on in and I’ll grab some eggs for breakfast.”
Beetle slowly walked toward the house. She stopped and turned around. “I’m sorry about your mama,” Beetle said softly. Harold stopped. He took a deep breath and exhaled.
“Thanks, Beetle,” he said. “She was ready to go and God was ready for her. He has other plans for us. We just have to keep the faith and follow our hearts.”
Beetle went inside as Harold started gathering eggs. As he lifted the lid on the coop, he noticed that there was more than the usual daily amount of eggs – much more. He realized that God was compensating for the increased amount of mouths that needed to be fed. He slowly closed the lid and knelt to give thanks for the blessing. He prayed.
He wept.
- - -
John turned the corner and looked down the road before him. He had been walking all night after walking pretty much all of the day before. He was tired. He was thirsty. He was hungry. He was so ready to be home. There was still a couple of hours before sunrise, but he could see much of the road before him. He figured it was because his eyes had adjusted to the light, or lack of.
The journey he had taken was not exactly a fun walk. He had been working in the refinery all day Tuesday and was about to get off a long shift when everything fell apart. All power in the plant had been running smoothly one minute and the next there was no power – anywhere. Everything was completely quiet for a minute or two and then all hell broke loose.
Most parts of the plant had back-up generators to ensure that power interruptions didn’t cause operations to fail, but the generators never started up. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that a major problem had just occurred. Every man on his crew, as well as hundreds of other contractors and plant employees, started running. Most ran for the gates, but some just ran deeper into the plant. Those were the unfortunate souls that didn’t stand a chance.
Then the explosions started. It was like they were in the middle of a war zone. Explosions were happening all around; some leading to chain-reactions and others throwing metal shards and debris hundreds of feet in all directions. John was one of the lucky few that made it a safe distance away before the entire plant was engulfed in a massive fireball. Black smoke filled the air around him. He had only one option; keep running.
For hours he made his way through a maze of out-of-control fires. Explosions rocked the earth beneath him, frequently throwing him to the ground with their deafening force. Deep into the night he was able to see everything around him, since the fires were all around and fierce enough to light up the skies with an eerie red hue. It was so hot. Although it was raining, there was no escaping the heat around him. He felt like his exposed skin would melt away from the rest of his body, but he kept moving.
Safety training had discussed what would happen in a worst-case scenario, but no class had prepared him, or anyone, for this scenario. There was probably no way anyone could have predicted, or imagined, a situation where every refinery in Port Arthur experienced their own worst-case scenario at one time. It was as if the fires of hell had swallowed up the entire area.
John wasn’t ready for hell yet. He refused to allow himself to give in to Satan and just lay down and die. So many of his co-workers, his friends, had perished right before his eyes. He knew that he was fighting a losing battle, but he also knew that the only way he woul
d lose would be during a valiant fight. And fight he did.
It wasn’t until he had made his way out of the chaos that surrounded him that he finally stopped. The light from the intense flames was behind him and he could feel a slight comfort from the soothing rain that fell upon his burned skin. He couldn’t tell if the redness of his skin was from the hue of the flames that lit up the darkness of night or from the searing heat. Either way, he knew it was going to hurt in the morning.
At least he was alive.
John found refuge under the canopy at an abandoned tire shop. He crawled his way between stacks of tires before finding a small area that provided a safe space for the remainder of the night. It wasn’t long before he drifted off into a restless sleep. His body was racked with pain, but fatigue was a mighty beast.
Sleep is good for the body. Sometimes, however, dreams torture one’s mind. John spent several hours in an unconscious state, but his mind was filled with visions of recent events. The explosions. The fires. The faces of his friends as they all ran for their lives. Just as the heat had seared his body, those images were seared into his mind. Would they ever go away?
When he opened his eyes the following morning, he could see nothing but black. John was sure he was blind until he caught a glimpse of orange. He focused his attention on his legs. Orange. His Nomex. He exhaled a sigh of relief. Looking around he realized the blackness that surrounded him was the stacks of used tires he had crawled into. He hurt all over.
It took a minute, but he was finally able to make his way to his feet. The tires around him had been a blessing during the night, shielding him from the rain. They were a blessing that morning, providing him with the support he needed to stand. Every muscle in his body was sore. His throat was parched. He could sure use a cup of coffee. Or three.
It took a couple of minutes, but he finally found his footing and began making his way through the maze of tires. He could feel the coolness of the light rain on his burning hands and face. It felt good. He knew that he had found his way from beneath the canopy. He raised his face upward and opened his mouth wide, relishing the small amount of moisture that gathered in his dry mouth.
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