Читать книгу Last Stand - Robert Ciancio - Страница 10

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Once I decided to leave, I had a very difficult decision to make and a more difficult thing to do. I couldn’t take Freddy with me. I was heading to Indiana Pennsylvania which was approximately 240 miles from Laurel, Maryland. Taking a sixteen-year-old cat in my rucksack was an unrealistic thing to even consider. I couldn’t leave her in the apartment. If I did, she would suffer a slow painful death from starvation and dehydration. She didn’t deserve to go out like that. I had her declawed when she was a kitten, so leaving her free to roam would have been a death sentence for her as she had no way to defend herself. She had been an indoor cat her whole life, so even if she had her claws, she would not have known what to do to survive. I truly believe animals have the same feelings that we have. I found Fred when she was weeks old. I am all that she has ever known. She would have missed me, and that’s the cruelest thing that I could have done to her. The decision needed to be made. Putting her down was the best, most humane thing to do for her.

I went into my bedroom where I had a small .22-caliber subsonic pistol. It was a single shot and, with the subsonic ammo, made virtually no sound. It wasn’t good for much except plinking. I decided that I would wait until she was asleep and do it while she was sleeping. She had been having problems with her hearing and was missing a lot of things lately. There were times when I came home from work, turned off my alarm system, unlocked the door, walked in, and started to put my bags down before she heard me and realized that I was home. I knew that I could do it without her even knowing what was coming.

I decided to take the time to get my gear ready. I pulled my ruck and my High-Speed Gear battle belt from the closet. As soon as I put my ruck on the floor, was normal for Fred, she had to get involved and see what was going on. She had her nose buried in each of the compartments and sniffed each of the items I took out to check as if to say, “What are you doin’, Dad? Come on, let me see what you got in there.” I teared up as I watched her play. I couldn’t believe I had to do what I was going to do. For me, it was like euthanizing my child. I had to remind myself that it was the most humane thing I could do for her.

My ruck weighed about eighty-five pounds. I had all the normal “bug out” stuff in there. I had shelter, water, gun cleaning gear, first-aid equipment, ammo, and a fire-starting kit. I also had gear that could be used to obtain safe drinking water and food, things like traps and a water straw. There was probably some stuff in there that a bush crafter would say that I didn’t need. The way I looked at it was that this bag was an INCH (I’m Not Coming Home) bag and I needed to have the things in it that I needed to survive not just a bush craft outing but also a combat situation. The world as I knew it was collapsing, and people were starting to kill each other for food and water. I wasn’t going to be able to come back. Once I left, that would be it. I was saying goodbye to Maryland.

I checked my battle belt. I had loaded all the rifle magazines with ammo. That was 240 rounds. I put the mags in their pouches and put an additional three hundred rounds in my ruck. That gave me 540 rounds of .223. I had also loaded all my .45 mags. That was sixty-four rounds. I put them in their pouches and put an additional two hundred rounds in the ruck. That gave me 264 rounds of .45. I then checked my knife to make sure it was sharp and ready to go. Lastly, I checked my holster to make sure that it was working as it should and was attached securely.

I then filled my sixty-four-ounce stainless steel Klean Kanteen and sixty-four-ounce army canteen with water and put them in my ruck. I checked my food. I had about a ten-day supply of food. There were several Mountain House meals, beef jerky, trail mix, thirty-five hundred calorie trail bars and miscellaneous food items. To supplement my food supply, I also carried in my ruck a conibear trap, two rat traps, and a slingshot that shot arrows. These would help me hunt and trap for food as my trip progressed. I realized that things would be slim and that there would be days that I couldn’t eat. I also hoped that I would find places to scavenge for supplies and food.

Once my gear was checked and double-checked, I went back out into the living room carrying a candle that smelled like apple pie. I poured myself a glass of water and sat in my chair holding the .22 in my lap. Freddy knew it was getting close to bedtime. She made her rounds, checking the front door and all the corners of the apartment. She then made her way into the bedroom to check things in there. She made her way to her litter box and then finally to the kitchen where she had her evening snack. Tears began to flow as I watched her do her thing. She had been with me for so long. When I got sick fifteen years ago and almost died, she was with me while I recovered, helping me deal with the pain of surgery. When my wife left me, Freddy was there to comfort me. When I came home from a bad day at work, she was there to do something funny to make me laugh. All the times that I had needed her, she was there for me. She never knew how important she was and never asked for anything in return. I had to keep reminding myself that this was the best thing for her.

As her rounds came to an end, she jumped onto the couch and curled up in the corner. It was her sleep spot. I waited for about an hour. My ex-wife had nicknamed her Wheezy because when she slept, she would wheeze. It was kind of like a snore and funny as hell. There were times when it got loud enough that it was almost disruptive when I was watching TV. When I heard her wheezing, I knew it was time.

I was still crying as I got up and walked over to the couch. As I had hoped, she didn’t hear me. I crouched down beside the couch and put the barrel of the .22 behind her left ear. I wanted it to be quick and painless. I figured that the brain would be the quickest and most painless way to that end. I was careful not to touch her because she’d wake up. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. There was a knot in my throat the size of an apple and a pain in my heart that I couldn’t even begin to describe. Mustering all the emotional strength that I could, I pulled the trigger.

The only noise I heard was the bolt slamming forward on the pistol. She never heard or felt it. She never moved. When I opened my eyes, she was in the same position as when she fell asleep but with some blood running from her nose. I put my head down on the couch beside her and cried harder than I had ever cried before. I don’t know how long I cried, but eventually, I fell asleep, lying beside the best friend I had ever had.

I awoke to the sound of thunder. I’m not sure how long I had been asleep, but I still felt drained. The candle I had lit earlier was still burning but was half gone at this point. I looked at Fred and teared up as I petted her for the final time. She had been a great cat, a great pet, and a great friend. I stared at her for a few more minutes until another crack of thunder brought me back to the here and now. I moved over to the door and looked through the peephole. It was raining, and it was dark. I decided that now would be a good time to go. With the rain, most people would stay inside. I could move around and avoid contact with as many people as possible. I didn’t have an abundance of ammo, so avoiding a long shoot-out or drawn-out confrontation was the smart thing to do.

I opened my ruck and pulled out my map of Laurel city. The city of Laurel actually sat on four counties in Maryland. It was located on the points of Prince Georges, Anne Arundel, Montgomery, and Howard Counties. However, the town of Laurel was located entirely in Prince George’s County and was almost midway between Washington, DC. and Baltimore. It started out as a factory town because it was located around the Patuxent River. Its industrial capabilities continued to grow and reached a pinnacle when the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad was built in the middle 1800s. The city had now become a commuter town for both Washington and Baltimore workers. Laurel was known as what it commonly referred to as a “company town” because the schools, businesses, and houses were all owned by the company businesses in the area.

When the civil war started, Laurel was divided. It was not uncommon to find sympathizers with ties to both sides of the conflict. Even so, due to the large number of southern backers, union soldiers were used as security patrols for the railroad.

After the Civil War, around the late 1800s, manufacturing became less important and Laurel became a suburban town. Since the railroad was so close, residents commuted to jobs in Washington and Baltimore. The Laurel Park Racetrack was a thoroughbred that opened its doors in 1911 and was still open…until the event happened. It was even mentioned in the book,.

On May 15, 1972, Governor George Wallace, the governor of Alabama, campaigning for the presidential nomination of the Democratic Party, was attending a rally in the parking lot of the Laurel Shopping Center. Arthur Bremer, an unemployed janitor, shot Wallace. The shooting paralyzed him. And before the September 11 hijackings, many of the hijackers used Laurel-based hotels as places to meet and plan the hijackings. They also worked out at a local Gold’s gym. A common phrase in Maryland seems to hold true. “All things move through Maryland.”

I also got out my maps of Pennsylvania and placed them and the Laurel City map into a waterproof map case. I pulled out my Frogg Togg rain suit and put it on over my clothes. I had on a pair of green Wrangler Ranger cargo pants, a black 5.11 tactical shirt, and a pair of Danner Acadia boots. I was very product loyal. Wrangler, 5.11, and Danner had served me well for several years.

As I said, I wanted to avoid confrontation as much as possible so preventing people from seeing exactly what I had, would keep their curiosity down. My Eberlestock ruck had a rifle scabbard built into the back of the pack. I placed my AR15, barrel down, in the scabbard. I then strapped on my battle belt, knife, and thigh ride pistol holster.

Once my gear was on, I attached my surefire light to my 1911 and placed it into its holster. I pulled the rain cover over my ruck and slung my pack, grabbed my boonie hat, and moved to the door.

I stopped and went over to blow out the candle. I looked around at the home that I lived in for ten years, scanning all my possessions, all the material things I had worked so hard to acquire. The TVs, furniture, movie posters on my walls, all the DVDs, everything was worthless now. I was leaving everything to essentially rot away or be stolen by somebody else. It amazed me how everything was gone in an instant.

I went over to the couch one more time and said my final farewells to Freddy. I blew out the candle, went to the door, and turned the knob, walking out into the unknown.