Читать книгу Last Stand - Robert Ciancio - Страница 11

4

The rain was painful and was blowing almost sideways. It blew straight into my face and felt like hundreds of little needles poking at my skin. The rain and clouds were so thick that it was almost completely dark outside.

I knew the area around my apartment pretty well. I knew which way was north and moved in that direction. As I had hoped, the weather ensured that the streets were clear of people. My pack was heavier than I would have liked, but all the camping trips and repacking had taught me what could be eliminated without taking out what I felt was important. The pack was heavy, but it only contained the necessities, at least what I felt was necessary for my current mission parameters, which in this case was to get home.

The average person can move through the woods with gear and make about six miles a day. I was guessing that I could do about four, maybe five miles a day. By roadway only, Laurel to Indiana, Pennsylvania, was approximately two hundred and forty miles. At five miles a day, that would take me forty-eight days of travel. It would take me a little over a month to get home. That was if I followed the roadways and didn’t stop anywhere for an extended period of time. Traveling cross country would eliminate miles, which would cut some time, which would eliminate days.

I moved as fast as I could without risking injury. My plan was to follow roadways until I was able to get out of town. Then I would move into the woods and navigate by compass the rest of the way. I would move throughout the day and rest at night. I wasn’t going to set up full-blown camps each night. I wasn’t in a SERE (survival, evasion, resistance, escape) type situation, but once again, I wanted to avoid detection as much as possible.

I negotiated around apartment buildings and what was now boarded-up businesses. It took me about an hour to get out of town. I had reached the outskirts of the city limits and was entering wooded territory. Once the chances of running into anybody had dropped, I pulled out my AR15, charged a round, and slung the strap over my shoulder. The rain had not let up and was still coming down pretty good. I decided to stay with the highways and move along the wood lines that ran perpendicular to the roadways, staying hidden among the trees and using them as cover. This would keep me out of town as much as possible.

Shortly, the sun started to come up, but with the rain, it stayed gray out. Once I could really start to see, I would be able to move a little easier and, subsequently, faster.

There were cars everywhere, stalled out all along the roadway. I needed to be careful. Cars stalled in the roadway, could also be used as ambush spots for people looking to attack travelers. The abandoned cars sat at all different angles, left to rust where they sat. It was the beginning of the third week into this thing, so the drivers had already left, looking for some shelter or a way to get home.

After a couple of hours, the rain stopped, and the sun finally started to shine. I had been on the road now for about three hours, so I decided that it was a good time to take a break. I looked around the wood line for a decent-sized tree. Although it had been raining, the ground under a big tree would be fairly dry.

I was able to find a large pine tree, with an abundance of soft, brown pine needles under it. I dropped my pack, dug out my army canteen, and took a couple of long pulls. The sun was out strong now, so I decided to also dig out my sunglasses, which I had in a pouch strapped to the outside of my pack. I would get hot and sweaty as it was, but the rain suit would have made things worse, so I took it off and repacked it in my ruck. I was starting to feel hungry, but I really needed to watch my food consumption, so eating now was out. I also decided to change my clothes. I took off the civilian clothes I had on and changed into 5.11 real tree camo pants and shirt. I folded my civilian clothes and placed them into a waterproof bag and put them into my ruck. The real tree camos would be my primary clothing for the rest of this trip.

The birds were out now, singing to anyone or anything that would listen, oblivious to the new world. I sat and listened to them sing, relaxing for a few minutes under the tree.

After about a twenty-minute break, I repacked my canteen and shrugged my pack back on. The humidity had started to get thick after the sun started to dry up the rain. As I walked, my mind started to wonder, and I started to think about things. I thought about my parents, and how now, after the fact, I was happy that they weren’t around anymore. They would have never been able to survive something like this. My mom, June, was a great woman with a heart of gold, but she was never able to understand the evil that the human species was able to inflict on each other. She would not have understood the need to defend herself, and what people would have done to take what she had. Dad, his name was Bob, just never believed something like this could happen. When he passed away, he still had the farm I grew up on. I had talked to him several times about using the space and the land he had to store and grow food that he would need to survive something like this. But he just never took the initiative to do it. For their sake, I was glad they were gone.

My sister, Cari, had died in a car accident about a year after my parents had passed. She bought herself a scooter and was on her way to work when somebody in a Dodge truck, who wasn’t paying attention, ran into her. The driver of the truck had been doing about seventy miles an hour when he hit her. The doctors said she had died instantly, so she didn’t suffer.

I never really felt alone. Even though my immediate family was gone, I still had family left. The only family I really had now were my best friends Josh, Mike, and their families. I met both of them when I worked with the sheriff’s department.

Indiana, Pennsylvania, is roughly located in the center of Indiana County and can be found just east of Pittsburgh. In 2013, Indiana became part of the Pittsburgh Metropolitan Area and established itself as the “Christmas Tree Capital of the World.” The National Christmas Tree Growers Association was founded there, and a large number of Christmas tree farms can still be found in the area. Until this event took place, Indian University of PA was located there and was the largest employer in the area.

For years, the biggest industry in the area was coal mining, but mines began to close, creating an ongoing economic difficulty.

Indiana was also the hometown of veteran and actor, Jimmy Stewart. Although he left the town right after high school, the town had continued to support his career. A museum was built in his memory shortly before his death, and a bronze statue of Stewart could be found at the county courthouse.

Josh, Mike, and I were all deputies and had worked together on the SWAT team. We had all spent a lot of time together. We worked together all day and then hung out at night and on weekends. We watched out for each other at work and also had each other’s backs out of work. I had gotten so close to these guys over the years that I looked at them like brothers.

In 2006, I decided I wanted more out of my career and wanted to try working in a place that saw constant action. I heard that a department in Maryland was hiring experienced police officers, so I applied and got the job. The rest, as they say, is history.

As I walked, I continued to think about Josh and Mike and soon lost all track of time. When I finally came back to the present, I realized that the sun was starting its downward arc. I wasn’t sure how far I had traveled, but it would be night soon. I figured I was somewhere along Route 95, maybe five or six miles from Laurel. I walked off into the woods and looked for a place to set up a camp. I did a recon of the area and found a small cluster of pines several yards from the roadway that would be a good site for a camp. It was about fifty yards from a small stream that I could use as a water source and provided some cover for light discipline.

I dropped my pack and got out my canteen. I took a long drag on the water and finished off the two-quart canteen. I opened my pack and took out my cloth tarp that I used for my shelter. It was a ten-by-ten camouflage nylon tarp that worked great. I used five fifty cord to set it up in a quick and easy lean-to style shelter that would protect me from the rain if it started to come down again, but I expected it to be nice out, as I saw no clouds in the sky.

I then used a small gardening trowel to dig a Dakota firepit. A Dakota firepit consisted of two holes connected by a tunnel. You built a fire in one of the holes and fed the fire with wood pushed through the other hole. It allegedly kept the light and smoke created by the fire to a minimum, which would limit the possibility of being seen.

I gathered some wood and kindling and fed it into the pit. I had a ferrocerium rod, also called a fire steel, but I decided to just use a lighter. I didn’t need a large fire for heat; I just needed something to boil some water and heat up dinner. As soon as those tasks were done, I would be putting the fire out. It was now the end of March and was averaging sixty-five to seventy degrees out at night, so I wouldn’t need a fire, but I would use my sleeping bag.

I walked down to the stream and got some water in a waterproof bag I used as a water bucket. It held about five quarts of water, which I carried back to my camp. I got out my Klean Kanteen and emptied the water from it, into the two-quart plastic army canteen. I then filled the Klean Kanteen with water from the stream and brought it to a boil. Once it cooled, I put the lid back on it and repacked it into my pack. Any water I was drinking tonight would be boiled and drank with some single-cup coffee packs I had in my food container.

Finally, I took a stainless-steel pot that I carried and put some water into it, also bringing it to a boil. Once it started to boil, I emptied half of a Mountain House spaghetti meal into it, letting it set for a couple of minutes. Once it was ready, I leaned back against my pack and ate dinner. Once I was done, I cleaned my pot and fork, put them away, and leaned back with my cup of coffee. The air was cooling down, and the temperature was getting nice. The birds were still singing, and I could hear small critters scurrying around through the woods. I watched the sun set and soon drifted off to sleep with my AR across my lap.

I awoke several hours later. It was still dark outside, so I’m not sure what woke me up. I sat there, not moving, letting my eyes adjust and listening for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. My only thought was how much I wished I had night vision.

I’m not sure what woke me up, as nothing seemed to show itself, and no noises seemed out of the ordinary. I’ve heard that if you’re not used to sleeping in the woods at night, normal woods noises will keep you up, so I figured that’s what it was. I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t.

I moved off my pack and dug out my headlamp. I turned on the red light, as red light is harder to see from distances at night. I decided to make a cup of coffee, so I prepared another small fire in the Dakota pit. After the coffee was made, I put out the fire and my head lamp, leaned back against my pack, and drank my coffee. I sat there awake for several hours, listening to the nighttime noises of the forest.

The next thing I knew, the sun was coming up through the trees. I decided to get started before it got too hot, so I packed the gear I had used for the fire and the coffee, took down the cloth tarp, and packed it up. I checked my weapons, and once I was sure both weapons were loaded and ready for the new day, I shrugged on my pack and headed back to the road.

Once on the roadway, I decided that I was going to play it safe and avoid roadways as much as possible now. It was now time to start moving cross country. I checked my compass, got my North West bearing, picked a tree off in the distance that fell within that North West reading, and set out. Once I reached the tree, I’d take a reading, find another tree, and set out.

Things went on like this for several days. I’d walk through the woods, cross roadways, use the road for a while, and break for water, food, and sleep. Some areas along the roads had an abundant number of cars on them, stalled along the roads, while other places seemed baron. I needed to be careful of places that were littered with abandoned cars, as they could be used as ambush sites. I would skirt these areas and get back into the woods as quick as possible.

I was doing pretty good food-wise. I had several thirty-five hundred calorie food bars that I was breaking up into two meals a day. Water was okay, as finding little streams and runoffs was fairly easy. Boiling it ensured I’d kill any pathogens in it, but it didn’t always taste that great. The key was just making sure that I stayed hydrated.

I was actually comfortable in the woods. Some of the patrol skills I had learned in the Army were starting to come back to the forefront of my memory, looking for things at wrong angles, wrong colors for the terrain, or movements of trees and bushes that just seemed out of place. I was paying attention to foot placement, weight placement, and sound discipline. I’m sure that by this time, people had reached a point of desperation that would be forcing them to do anything needed to survive. I didn’t want to stumble into anybody, so I needed to resort to all the patrol tactics that I could remember.

One afternoon, I could see the sun through the trees, which indicated to me that I was coming to some kind of clearing or roadway. As I got closer, I could hear what sounded like crying, mixed with yelling. I was far enough away that I couldn’t make out what was being yelled or if they were yelling at somebody. All I could tell was that they were yelling. I dropped to a knee and listened. It was coming from the direction of the clearing. I dropped my pack behind a tree. This would be my personal rally point if things went south.

I worked my way closer to the yelling, moving in crouch, being careful not to step on branches or twigs. My AR was up, in the low ready position. As I got closer, I could start to hear what was being yelled.

“Help! Somebody please! Help me!”

I dropped to a knee again. I listened for any other noises, anything that seemed out of the ordinary. I was listening for anything more out of the ordinary than somebody screaming for help. I also scanned the wood line for any movements. I was looking for anything that looked like an ambush or anything that might indicate that this was a trick. I didn’t hear anything or see any fishy movements.

As I moved closer, I came to a roadway that had a fairly steep shoulder. The roadway was a secluded, two-lane country road. There were no cars or people around. There were heavy woods on both sides of the roadway. Off to my right, I could see an older model, 1950s era truck, rolled over onto its roof. It was badly damaged, with the windshield shattered, and the roof collapsed. I took another knee and scanned the wood line up and down both sides of the roadway. I listened some more but heard nothing other than the yelling from the truck. I decided that things looked okay, so I moved toward the truck with my AR up and ready.

I approached the driver-side door, but I couldn’t see inside. I could still hear the yelling, which now I could tell was coming from a guy inside the truck.

“Would somebody help me! Somebody help me, please!”

I dropped to my side and pointed my AR inside the truck. When he heard me move, he looked toward the window.

“Shit, man, don’t shoot me! I’m hurt. I’m stuck in here, and I think my foot’s broken.” He had a look on his face that was scared, pleading, and pained.

“What’s your name?” I asked, never taking the rifle sights from him.

“My name’s Jared, but they call me Norman,” he replied.

“Who’s they, and why do they call you Norman if you’re named Jared?” I asked.

“They are my family, and they call me Norman because they think I look like the guy who played Norman Bates on A&E.” As I looked at him, I could see the resemblance. He was skinny and had dark hair and big ears. Hell, he looked more like Alfred E. Newman from the old Mad Magazine comics I read when I was a kid.

“Okay, can you move at all?” I asked, a little less concerned for my safety now.

“No, man. I’m trapped in here.”

“All right, stand by a minute,” I said as I slung my rifle over my back and tried to pull open the driver’s door. It was jammed shut, so I ran around to the passenger side and tried the passenger door. It moved a little but was also jammed. I leaned into the passenger window.

“Look, both doors are jammed. Give me a few minutes, I’ll be right back.” As I ran back to my pack, I could hear him pleading for me not to go. Soon, I could only hear his muffled yelling again. I slung on my pack and ran back toward the truck. Along the way, I saw a decent-sized tree that was young and green and looked like it could withstand the pressures of being used as a lever. I dug my pruning saw from my pack and cut down the tree and cleaned as many branches off as I could. I grabbed my pack and ran back to the truck.

Norman was still yelling when I got back to the truck. I thought to myself that this guy needed to shut the fuck up before every turd on the planet heard him. I took the tree and slid it into the gap I made the first time I tried to open the passenger door. I pushed and pulled with all that I had. I was able to get the door to move inches at a time. It was slow and took a lot of energy, but I was eventually able to get it open enough to get into the truck.

“Okay, Norman, how are you trapped in here? What’s got you trapped?” I asked.

“My foot’s trapped between the roof and the back of the seat. I can’t move it.” He started to move around, trying to pull himself free.

“Okay, hold on.” I got my lever and worked it into a small space between the seat back and the roof. I pried and pushed until I was able to get one end of the lever as close to his foot as I could. I got my end of the tree on my shoulder and pushed up. Eventually, I was able to push the back of the seat up enough to create a space big enough that Norman could slide his foot out.

“Oh man, thanks. Thanks so much. God, my foot is killing me. Man, thanks.”

“Relax, Norman, I’m not in the mood for any kissing just yet. Let’s get you out of here.” I threw the tree out of the truck and grabbed Norman under his arms. I pulled him out of the cab of the truck and laid him on the ground. He looked around, smiling like it was the first time he had seen trees.

“Oh man, is it good to be out of there. I’m dyin’ of thirst. You got anything to drink?” he asked.

“Sure, gimme a second,” I said as I got up and walked over to my pack. I took out my canteen and handed it to Norman. He drank until he had his fill.

“How long have you been in there? What happened anyway?” I asked as I knelt down to look at his foot.

“I’ve been stuck in that piece of shit for three days. Damn man, go easy!” he yelled as I pulled, prodded, and twisted his ankle. I was no doctor—hell, I wasn’t even a medic—but from the grinding sound I heard in his ankle, I could tell it was broken.

“I was out hunting for me and my wife, which reminds me, don’t forget my rifle in the truck, it’s the only one I have. Anyway, I was driving home and a freakin’ bear ran across the road. I swerved to miss it, lost control, and rolled this bitch. Dammit, that’s the only truck we got too,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he was pissed at the bear or himself for wrecking the truck.

“Brother, you don’t look old enough to have a wife. How old are you?” I asked as I smiled at him.

“I’m thirty-five,” he said, puffing up his chest and getting a proud look on his face.

“My wife’s name is Amanda, and I got a six-year-old boy too. His name’s Andy. We call him Dozer ’cause he’s as strong as an ox and runs around pushing everything over.” The proud look on his face got more legitimate as he talked about his boy. Not as comedic as when he told me his age.

“How far from your house are you?” I asked.

“Maybe six miles that way,” he said as he pointed down the road.

“Where’s your wife? Do you think people will be out looking for you?” I asked.

“No, it’s just me and her. I told her not to leave the house unless I was gone for more than a week. Then she was to hike it to the neighbor’s house through the woods about a mile from our place. But we got enough food in the house that she can feed her and Dozer without me. I just went out to look for some meat to supplement what we already got.”

“Okay, let me get some stuff to make you a splint and a cheesy crutch. Then I’ll grab your rifle and we’ll head out. You think you can make it home with a crutch?” I asked as I started to look around.

“Fuckin-a, man, I miss my wife and kid,” he said, the excitement about getting out of here evident on his face.

I pulled my Bowie knife from its sheath and crawled back into the cab of the truck. I cut several long strips of cloth from the seat covers. Once I crawled back out of the truck, I took the pruning saw and cut the tree I used to pry open the door into several pieces about a foot long. I used one of the pieces as a baton, using it and my knife to split one of the other pieces of wood into two. I then placed a piece of the split tree on each side of Norman’s leg. I finally took the cloth strips I cut from the seat to tie the splints to his leg.

Once that was done, I walked back into the woods and found a tree about the size of a man’s wrist. The tree had a Y in it about five feet from the ground. I cut the tree down with the pruning saw and adjusted the size until Norman could use it as a crutch.

I walked back to the truck, crawled back into the cab of the truck, and used my Bowie to cut a couple of chunks of padding from the seat. I used the last strips of the seat cover to secure the padding to the Y in the crutch.

“Okay, Norman, this’ll need to do. Let’s get you up and we’ll start heading to your place. You just point us in the right direction,” I said as I reached out to give him a hand up.

“Damn, dude. You fixed this shit up like a pro. You know what you’re doin’.”

“I’m no pro. Just thinkin’ on the fly,” I said, helping Norman get his balance. Once he was more or less stable, I crawled back into the truck cab for what I hoped was the last time and retrieved Norman’s rifle. It was a Birmingham Small Arms .270-caliber hunting rifle. It had a wood grain stock and a leather sling. It was well cared for, which always told me that the owner cared about his tools and made sure that they were ready when he needed them.

“This is a nice rifle, Norman. My grandfather had one just like it when he was alive.” I looked the rifle over some more. When my grandfather, Pap Pap Dale, died, he left me his hunting rifles. The .270 was one of them. It was a shame I needed to leave it in my apartment, but I couldn’t carry the extra weight of another rifle and ammo. It just wasn’t realistic.

“Okay, Norman. Let’s get moving. You might wanna slack around here for a few days, but I don’t like bein’ in one spot too long. Let’s get moving.” He looked at me like I was a complete idiot. I smiled at him to let him know I was joking.

“Hey, man, what’s your name? I should know the name of the guy that just saved my life.”

“My friends call me Buck,” I said as I stuck out my hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Buck. Thanks again,” he said as we shook hands.

I repacked what gear I had used to get Norman ready for travel and shrugged on my pack. We made it to the roadway and started moving in the direction he originally pointed.

We moved along the roadway fairly slowly. I scanned all around us, checking our rear to make sure we weren’t being followed. Every so often, I would have Norman stop so I could listen for anything that didn’t sound normal.

“Damn, man, you are one paranoid dude,” he said as he again looked at me like I was an idiot.

“No, Norman, I’m not paranoid. I just know how people have been since we all lost power. Here in the country, it might not have hit you yet, but in the city areas, they’re killin’ each other for a drink o’ water. I don’t wanna die for the gear I got on my back, but I sure as hell will kill to keep it, ’cause it’s what’s kept me alive so far, and it’ll keep me alive till I get to where I’m goin’.”

“Where are you goin’ anyway?” he asked as we got up to move on.

“My best friends live up north, outside a’ Pittsburgh. I’m headin’ up there. We used to work together years ago, and I think that if I’m up there and not in the city, and I’m with them, my chances of survivin’ this are a lot better.”

“Well, if you want, you can hang with me and the family for a few days. It’s the least we can do. We can fill your gut a few times, maybe wash your clothes, ’cause you do smell a little ripe.” He laughed like he had just heard the funniest joke ever told.

I just shook my head and kept walking. We walked like this for another hour or so, talking, laughing a little. We would stop and take breaks occasionally, as moving with the makeshift crutch was harder for Norman than it looked. He talked about his wife and kid. Eventually, he stopped, took a breath, and pointed a short way ahead of us at a bend in the road.

“My place is just around the corner.” We pushed on. Soon, the trees along the road started to thin out and turned into a small field of hay. Through the field, I could see a small ranch-style home, made of brick and tan siding. It was well-kept and clean. I could see in the backyard which held several fenced-in areas that housed some pigs, chickens, and a couple of cows. The homestead was a small farm that was just big enough for them.

We kept walking, and as we got closer to Norman’s house, the door swung open and a petite brunette came bursting through the doorway. Instinctively, the AR came up.

“Easy, Rambo. It’s just Amanda.” She was thin and kind of homely-looking, but it was obvious that she was glad to see Norman. She was wearing a light-blue sundress and pink tennis shoes, with her brown hair pulled up into a bun. Right behind Amanda came the biggest six-year-old I’ve ever seen. He was about three and a half feet tall and had to weigh a good eighty or ninety pounds. He was wearing blue cut-off jean shorts and a green T-shirt that was about two sizes too small for him. Before I could stop myself, I started to laugh.

“Man, don’t laugh. I told ya we call ’im Dozer. We call ’im Dozer for a reason.” Norman had a smile on his face as he scolded me.

Amanda reached Norman and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him nonstop.

“Baby, oh my god, I was so worried,” she said in between kisses. Then she got pissed.

“Where the hell have you been?” she scolded, looking at me with a pretty evil eye. Dozer was standing behind her, with his fists on his hips, looking at me like he was going to take my head off. I was kind of afraid that he might have been able to do it.

“Baby, don’t bitch at me in front of guests. I got into an accident and totaled the truck. I got trapped inside and couldn’t get out. Buck here happened to come along and save my life,” he said as he directed attention to me like Vanna White showing off a new car.

Amanda turned and hugged me, kissing me on each cheek. “Thank you for saving my idiot’s life. I hope you’re going to be staying with us for a while.”

“I think I might.” I said. “I need a rest, a wash, some clean clothes, and some food in my gut.”

“Well, all of that we can do for ya.” She grabbed my hand and walked me to the house, leaving Norman to fend for himself.

We walked in the front door to a clean and well-kept house. The front foyer had a set of stairs going up to a living room, kitchen, and a couple of bedrooms. The downstairs was a family room and another bedroom. The carpeting in the house was a light brown, almost a tan, with off-white painted walls. There were family pictures hanging up and some in frames on the end tables. It looked like any normal all-American home, but after the few weeks I had spent sleeping on the ground, it sure looked comfortable.

Amanda took me upstairs and led me to one of the back bedrooms. It was the same color scheme as the rest of the house. It held a bed, a dresser, and a closet, and had its own bathroom. As she walked into the room, she pointed at the bed then at the bathroom.

“You can drop your stuff there on the bed. The bathroom has a tub. Norman was able to rig some plastic drums outside the two-bathroom windows, so we kinda still have running water. You can take a bath, or wash up. The water’ll be cool, but at least you’ll be clean. We’ll eat in about an hour or so. Thanks again for bringin ’im back to me.” She hugged me again and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

I dropped my pack on the bed and dug out my hygiene kit. It wasn’t major, just some toothpaste, a toothbrush, some camp soap, a straight razor, and a washrag. The bathroom was small and basic. It had a tub, a sink, a toilet, and a mirror. The bathroom was your normal working-class bathroom, nothing extravagant. I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was usually high and tight with shaved sides and a goatee on my face. But now, I had a full beard and a full head of hair. I used the camp soap to lather up my face and the straight razor to clean things up. I didn’t shave the beard off, just cleaned up the perimeter. Once that was done, I went to the window. There was a two-inch rubber hose running in through a gap in the window, running from a blue fifty-five-gallon drum that Norman had rigged to a platform outside. The hose had some kind of garden faucet on the end of it. I turned on the faucet, and water started to drain into the tub. I smiled at the invention. It was pretty cool.

I put about an inch of water in the tub. I didn’t want to waste the water, because I didn’t know when it would rain again. I crawled into the tub. Amanda was wrong, the water was actually warm. I assume from being in the plastic drum, the sun had been able to warm it up some. Taking a bath felt wonderful. Before long, the water was brown, and I was clean. I got out and dried myself with a towel that had been on the tub when I came in. I walked out to the bedroom and dug the Wrangler pants and black 5.11 shirt from my pack. I also dug out a fresh pair of socks.

It felt good to be naked. I’m not sure why, but it did, so I stayed that way for a while. I took my camo clothing into the bathroom, dumped some camp soap into the tub, and then ran some more water into it, again only about an inch. I agitated the water, and then put the camos and socks into the tub, agitating them as well. I let them soak in the fresh water.

I went back into the bedroom and got dressed in my civvies, to include my boots and my 1911. I picked up my AR and walked to the door. When I opened the bedroom door, the smell from the kitchen was fantastic. I must have used the entire hour because Amanda was putting the food on the table. We were having some ham, mashed potatoes, and salad.

I looked at the setup they had rigged in the kitchen, and found it as ingenious as the bathroom water idea. Norman had cut a two-foot round hole in the top off of the stove. He rigged a smoke escape, using wood stove piping, which ran to the kitchen window. Now they could actually build a fire in the stove and use it to cook using the grates in the stove.

I wasn’t noticed at first, but as I stood there looking at the cooking setup, I got caught.

“Wow, you look differ’nt,” Norman said, causing Amanda to turn around and look.

“Yeah, you clean up nice. Here, you sit at the head o’ the table,” she said as she pulled out my chair. I walked to my chair and leaned my AR against the wall behind me. Norman sat down to my right, with Dozer to his right. Dozer had still not said a word to me and kept watch over me like a hawk looking for prey. Amanda sat down on my left.

“Are you a religious man, Mr. Buck?” she asked.

“First, it’s just Buck, no Mr. needed. As far as religion goes, I want to be. Before all hell broke loose, I read the Bible every day and prayed twice a day. When I left my place, I couldn’t afford the weight of a Bible in my pack, but I have still been prayin’ every night before I sleep. I don’t know if he hears me or not, but I like to think he does. I’m still alive, and I’m still healthy, so my guess is he’s lookin’ out for me. My only problem is I can’t get used to turnin’ the other cheek.”

“Well, Buck,” she said. “I am religious. God heard my prayers about bringin’ Norman back to me. So if you’d be so kind as to say grace.” She clasped her hands and bowed her head.

I clasped my hands together and took a breath. I always get nervous when I was put on the spot and wasn’t prepared. I was a planner and always tried to make sure I had some kind of idea what I was going to do. I never prayed before my meals, so I wasn’t really sure what to say, so I went basic.

“Lord, I thank you for the food that’s on the table here before us. In this world today, food will become hard to come by, so this abundance now is a gift. I thank you for giving Amanda the strength to prepare it, and I thank you for giving Norman the heart to live through the trial he has had over the past few days so that he could get back to his family. Lastly, I thank you Lord for giving me the strength and skills to have survived as long as I have, and I ask that you keep all of us safe as this tribulation continues. Amen. Oh, one more thing, Lord. Please let Dozer lighten up a little. I’m not the bad guy he thinks I am.”

As we ate, Dozer did lighten up. He asked me questions about my guns and where I had gotten them. Amanda, Norman, and I talked about what was going on in the city where I had come from and what my future plans were. We discussed what we thought had happened, and I expressed my concerns about what the future held.

When we were finished eating, Amanda cleaned up the dishes in a wash basin. I offered to help but just got a look of disdain as an answer to my invitation. Norman and I moved to the living room where we lit some candles and continued to talk. After Amanda had finished with the dishes, she joined us in the living room. After about an hour, I could feel my eyelids getting heavy.

“Brother, I think it’s time for me to hit the hay,” I said as I got up. I walked over to Norman and shook his hand.

“Amanda, thanks for a wonderful meal.” I bent over and kissed her on the cheek. With that, I walked back to my room. I put my gear on the floor, my AR against the wall beside the bed, and my 1911 on the bedside table.

I went into the bathroom and finished washing my camos, hanging them over the curtain rod. I then went back into the bedroom and lay down. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I slept all night long and into the next day until about noon. When I woke, I could hear Amanda, Norman, and Dozer outside. I got out of bed, brushed my teeth, and went outside to the back of the house.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” Dozer yelled when I walked out. I gave him an ugly face and laughed.

“Good morning, everybody.”

“Morning. Did you sleep okay?” Amanda asked.

I grinned at her. “Obviously. I think I slept for about twelve hours.”

She grinned back. “Yeah, you slept closer to fourteen hours.”

“Holy shit, you’re kiddin’ me.” I hung my head in shame. Norman looked at me. He had a funny look on his face. He looked like he wanted to ask me something but didn’t know how. He was hobbling around on the crutch I had made him.

“What’s up, brother, you need help with something?” I asked.

“Man, I hate to ask you this ’cause after what you did for me yesterday, I really just wanted you to be able to chill out and relax while you were here.” He had the look of being ashamed for asking for help.

“No man, what d’ya need?” I asked again.

“Well, Amanda and I need a smoke house built, but with my foot the way it is, I just can’t do it.”

“No issues, I got ya. Just point me in the direction of your tools and let me know how big you need it, and I’ll Git-er-Done,’” I said, doing my best imitation of Larry the Cable Guy.

Norman pointed to a small shed, telling me that all his tools were in there. Once I had all the tools and wood that I needed, I got to work. Norman wanted the smoker about five feet square, with a flat roof and about five feet high. I wasn’t a carpenter by any sense of the word, but I had spent some time working for my dad’s construction company, so I knew my way around a saw, hammer, and nails.

I spent about three full days working on the smoker. I’d get up in the morning and work all day, taking breaks to eat, drink, and play with Dozer, who had levels of energy I’ve seldom seen in a kid his size. At night, we’d eat dinner together and then sit around in the living room with candles lit, joking, talking, and laughing, almost like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Like life was still normal.

By the end of the week, Dozer and I were rolling around on the floor, wrestling at night. He had really grown accustomed to me, and I’d really started to like being around him. My dad used to wrestle with me when I was a kid. He’d hold me down on the floor and then threaten to lick my face. It grossed me out so bad that I’d scream like I was being killed. So I started to do that to Dozer. He’d scream, giggle, and sometimes scream so hard he’d fart, causing Amanda and Norman to lose it. They would sit in their chairs and laugh out loud all night long at the two of us. I never had the chance to have kids of my own. I was married once, but it just didn’t work out, and we went our separate ways. I eventually learned to use other people’s kids as surrogates, filling in for what I didn’t have.

Josh and Mike each had boys of their own. Before the event when we would hang out together, I let them try my chewing tobacco and sneak sips of my beer. I’d tell them dirty jokes when their moms weren’t around, and sometimes I’d tell them jokes when they were around just to get a reaction from the moms. I’d do things like that because I’d never get a chance to do it with my own kids, so why not take advantage of the opportunity I had with my friend’s kids?

Although I was having a good time with Amanda, Norman, and Dozer, it was time for me to move on. They now had a place to smoke whatever meat they had. Norman’s foot was doing better, and he was able to move around better on it now. He still needed the crutch, but he didn’t seem to be in as much pain. Before I went to bed that night, I bathed, cleaned up my beard again, and washed my civilian clothes, hanging them up to dry while I slept.

I got up the morning of the sixth day with Amanda and Norman and prepared to leave. I unpacked my ruck, repacked it, reorganizing things to get them to sit better and to take an inventory of the gear I had used.

My ammo was still good, and I still had snacks like granola bars and trail mix to eat, along with one more thirty-five-hundred-calorie bar. It wasn’t going to last me for too long, but I’d need to make do. The rest of my gear was still good. I got dressed in my Real Tree camos and strapped on my belt. I also took this opportunity to clean my 1911 and AR.

When I walked out into the living room, Dozer immediately came running over to me.

“Where ya goin’, Mr. Buck?” he asked with a sad look on his face, as I knelt down in front of him.

“I gotta go, buddy. I have friends and family I gotta check on.”

“When are ya comin’ back?” His eyes were starting to water up, which made mine start to water. I wasn’t sure how to answer him, so I figured I’d just go with the truth.

“I don’t think I will be, buddy. Without cars anymore, I just live too far away to be able to come visit.” By this time, he was in full tears. I reached out and hugged him, telling him that I’d never forget him. I was teary-eyed now too, and so was Amanda. I got up and walked over to Amanda, hugging her, then shaking Norman’s hand.

“Let me pack you some food to go,” Amanda said and ran into the kitchen.

I got out my maps, and Norman showed me where his farm was located. I got my compass bearing, orienting myself to the map and the direction I needed to go. Amanda came out of the kitchen with a freezer bag of homemade beef jerky, several sealed foil bags of tuna, and a freezer bag full of oatmeal.

“It’s not much, but it’ll help, I hope,” she said.

“Oh, it’ll help a lot,” I said. “Thank you.”

I leaned forward, hugged her, and kissed her on the cheek. I shook Norman’s hand again then kneeled down and hugged Dozer, who had worked to calm himself down. I thanked everybody again and walked out the door. I got my bearing with the compass, picked out a tree, and set off toward home.