The Wayward Axe (Old Preppers Die Hard) E-Book

Ron Foster

• Herausgeber: Ron Foster
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

A Prepper fiction book of survival in an EMP grid down post apocalyptic world. Farley is a old prepper that is stuck in the city when a solar storm sets of a electromagnetic pulse event taking the grid down world wide.. Our hero stays in the city facing societal breakdown for ten weeks until it is evident he must escape and bug out somewhere. The problem is he only has a half tank of gas and not any means to get any more. His destination requires more fuel than that and he finds himself stuck on the side of a dirt road heading towards a lake cabin he once stayed in. A violent encounter changes his life and his circumstances forever as he tries to protect a boy and his mother in a apocalyptic world. This book is filled with the author’s southern prepper fiction humor and wit that teaches you survival skills while entertaining with a tale full of twists and turns.. This special omnibus edition includes the following three apocalyptic books from the Old Preppers Die Hard series. An Old Man and His Axe Doing the Apocalypse Shuffle Shadows Of Sanity And Survival

Leseprobe

THE WAYWARD AXE

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE WAYWARD AXE

First edition. May 31, 2016.

Copyright © 2016 Ron Foster.

ISBN: 978-1533791061

Written by Ron Foster.

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

The Wayward Axe (Old Preppers Die Hard)

The Wild Ride

MARCHING DOWN THE AVENUE

Load Up! Load Out!

Momma’s Misfit

THE BIG MEET AND GREET

GETTING TO KNOW YOU

Moving Day

Barnett’s Bait Store

Homecoming

The Utility Shed

The Setup

A Trading We Will Go

Plotting And Scheming

The Departure

Planning The Birthday Bash

Strike the Shepherd and the Sheep Will Scatter

THE ACQUISTION

Life Goes On At The Lake Resort Camp

You Got To Fly Like An Eagle

SAWING AWAY AT SURVIVAL

The Chase

EVASION AND ESCAPE

SILVER FIRE SAVIOR

A MEETING OF THE MINDS

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Also By Ron Foster

About the Author

Ron Foster

Alabama, USA

© 2016 by Ron Foster

All rights reserved.

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Printed in the United States of America.

Acknowledgements

SILVER STAG BRAND KNIVES

http://www.silverstagknives.com/

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SILVER FIRE ROCKET STOVES

http://www.silverfire.us/

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INNOVATION FACTORY

http://liltrucker.com/

1

The Wild Ride

“Ah hell, I guess this train ain`t going to ride me no more!” Farley said to himself dejectedly as his van’s engine spluttered and died from lack of fuel.

“Was just a matter of time, oh well? This piece of crap van got me further than I expected so I guess this place is a blessing in some ways.” Farley muttered as he coaxed the van as far as it would go before manhandling the steering wheel of the  now hard as hell to turn  former power steering over to the roadside as best he could.

Well, he wasn’t totally pulled off the side of the road but that was the best he could do because of the narrow shoulder. “Now what shall I do?” He said to himself for the umpteenth time today.

Not that he hadn’t rehearsed this little bug out and bail out of the van scenario over a thousand times already in his mind on the way down here. But that didn’t matter now. Even though he knew and had planned for getting himself broke down and stranded today, he still had no way of knowing where exactly he was going to end up at.  He had bugged out of the city driving towards the lake with only a half a tank of gas and no known chances of getting any more fuel. It wasn’t much of a plan but it was all he could think of doing in the position he was previously in.

He had left the city 10 weeks after some space weather had managed to make mincemeat out of the electrical power grid and deteriorating conditions had forced him out. Scientists had been noting the correlation between geomagnetic storms caused by the sun and increased frequency of earthquakes and volcanic activity for years but no one had understood or predicted what the effects of a huge coronal mass ejection from the sun would have on the New Madrid fault line.

FEMA had been watching seismic activity in Tennessee and the surrounding area along with the Geologic Survey department monitoring small earthquakes and upheavals in the area to try to predict the historic reoccurrence of a mega quake like what had occurred before historically in the late 1800’s.

FEMA had even come up with a multi state plan exercise called the “Great Shakeup” to help the millions of refugees they expected from impacted regions should such an event occur but they had no idea of the scale of the event that had actually occurred and was felt nationwide. The Mississippi river had reversed its course temporarily just like it had in the past but this time it had also split the country asunder and changed the geography of North America. Quakes had also occurred along the San Andreas fault in California and volcanic rifts appeared in Yellowstone.

Farley figured he had held out in the city about as long as it was somewhat safe to do so while watching to see if the government was going to even try to mount any significant response. They couldn’t of course; this disaster was just too big and too devastating. He had  heard on the radio that the new US capital was in Denver but they were really operating as such in name only and doing very little to assist its’ suffering citizens. No, it was every man and woman pretty much on their own now and he had decided to get out of the city while the getting was good.

Farley had been a wise prepper and had stored up about a years worth of food to see him through disasters but he knew that this supply would run out or maybe get stolen and it was time to act now while he still had the means to give himself a longer term chance at survival.

He had loaded up about all of the food he had in the house, and headed for the lake. That would solve his water problem but food and shelter still needed to be considered. He could fish and that was an important something even though he didn’t like to eat fish much and indeed had some allergic reactions to commercially processed fish. He figured eventually he might find a vacant house or building he could take up residence in before the winter and wild game was always more plentiful in such regions.

He admitted it wasn’t much of a plan but it was all he could come up with. He didn’t even know the geography he was going to except that he had once spent a weekend in a rental cottage in the area years ago.

He had high hopes he might find that same cottage empty but that was if he could even find it again. He had detoured around burning towns, abandoned vehicles snarling traffic, closed bridges etc. and now was pretty much lost except for knowing he was in the general area of the lake some 10 miles distant. This was a huge lake encompassing many miles of shoreline with a confusing array of access roads and back roads so he had serious doubts about finding that exact little cottage he was seeking. He also had no idea whether or not it would be occupied if he did luckily find it.

He doubted he would have much to worry about its’ owners objecting to him taking up residence there, but you could never tell. They might have even moved there for their own survival but he doubted that as they seemed to own several rental properties. Getting in wouldn’t be much of a problem he grinned to himself, thinking about a multi tool he had with him called a “Truckers Friend”. Matter of fact he had with him a different model of the multi tool called a “Little Trucker” that was more suited for survival and he could use to gain entry. One of those war hammers of his was soon going to be indispensable to his day to day living he guessed.

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As light as the two axes were he couldn’t carry both with him hiking any distance but he was reassured by their presence and would make his choice shortly. Packing the van had been a major undertaking and he had pretty much drug with him everything he owned that could possibly make his life easier once he arrived because he knew he wouldn’t have the opportunity to resupply or locate such goods in the future. He had far, far too many goods to travel any distance from his vehicle and he had taken this into account when packing them but did so anyway in optimistic hope that it was possible, but pretty unlikely he would find what he sought not far from wherever he eventually broke down.

This dirt road that he was sitting on however was not what he had expected though even in his most pessimistic thoughts and that fact was his first major concern. There was nothing and I mean nothing along this stretch of road. He had seen very few houses on the way and he was surrounded by mostly wooded land that probably belonged to one of the timber companies growing pine trees. Not his idea of a bug out location by any kind of a stretch of his imagination. He could hang out in the woods for quite sometime but that wasn’t in his game plan and only a bit better than worrying some starving individual would try to break into his home in the city.

He decided he could cache his goods in the woods somewhere and set out on a hike to find a better area in the morning was his best option so he set about exploring the area for a likely stash point. Nothing miraculous or cool offered itself to him for a location but he did find a clump of bushes that looked like a good place.

It was about three in the afternoon and wouldn’t get dark until around 8 so he had lots of time to get his task accomplished and think about it. “I best try to put this stuff in two locations in case some hunter happens upon it or somebody spots the van and decides to investigate a bit.” Farley thought.

“Maybe I will stash stuff on both sides of the road and mix my trail up a bit,” he figured and set out up the road and then across to look that area over.

By about 6:30 he had hauled most of his gear out of the van and roughly stashed it. He wasn’t happy with his efforts at all though because he had only the one extra tarp to cover one pile of goods and in his rush to get the van loaded had forgotten the box of garbage bags residing under his sink at home.

“First good rain I am going to have a bunch of wet shit to deal with on my return but that can’t be helped.” Farley mused as he attempted to pile on more branches to his stash to keep it from getting so wet but soon gave up the effort.

“Things could just stay as they are. Damn, it’s hotter than hell out here.” He muttered to himself for the umpteenth time today and went back to the shade of the van and the trees above it to think about his dilemma further.

The sign he had passed about 6 miles back down the road had indicated it went to the lake but just how far the lake was he had no way of knowing. He had water if you counted four cases of bottles and one 5 gallon jug he couldn’t carry with him. His web gear had one canteen and he had a separate two quart canteen on a shoulder sling he could tote but that was about as mobile as he could get. In this heat, water was the biggest threat to his survival that is, he reminded himself, if the damn mosquitoes didn’t drive him crazy first and thought about where he would bed down for the night.

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“He could drag his small tent out and make a regular campsite complete with a fire pit but on the other hand why set up anything if he was leaving out at first light in the morning?” Farley pondered, deciding he would just sleep in the van with his backpacking gear. He got his SilverFire Scout backpacking stove and found a few wooden sticks to heat his dinner with.

Tonight’s menu was fried Spam and a MRE apple dessert. If he didn’t eat all the Spam in one sitting he would throw the leftovers in a Ziploc to eat later for breakfast on the trail. It should keep that long he figured and went back to thinking about what food he should carry with him on his journey in the morning. That was indeed a troubling question to him because he had no idea how far he would have to go or how long he would be staying once he got there and was able to hike back to retrieve more supplies.

“I got that collapsible hand truck in the van, hell I got a collapsible deer cart in there also that I could haul about half my shit with if I knew what distance I have to travel.” Farley thought as he cursed once again the map he was relying on that didn’t show these back roads. By his best estimate it was 10 or 12 miles to the lake from where he had ended up at and maybe another 8 miles to that rental cabin  over by the State park area but he wasn’t exactly clear on that and remembered how lost he had gotten traveling many lake dirt roads in order to find it.

“Hell 10 miles if I force march myself would put me there at the beginning of the lakes shoreline around 5 in the afternoon if I didn’t fall out after the first few miles.” He thought to himself realistically remembering how hard that was to do when he was in his prime at 18 in the army with full gear let alone now several decades later and trying it with even more gear.

“I might just be away from all this food for a lot longer than I originally thought.” Farley considered, thinking he was a fool for not wanting to use his big cabin tent to cover up that stash of goods better. He had thought about just opening and laying the tent over some of his goods to resist the rain better but he didn’t want to consider coming back to a soaking tent or it becoming damaged from all the camouflage he would have to pile on to hide it. On the other hand if he was gone for weeks or a month for that matter, those cardboard boxes of cans of freeze dried food would probably be losing their labels next time he saw them so he reluctantly got up and set about making his main cache more water resistant.

Farley wasn’t amazed that he hadn’t seen any cars out on the road he was stuck on today but he did wonder about it. I mean the solar storm didn’t take out all the cars’ electronics as many people had expected. Most vehicles seemed to run and function just fine, well at least in his general area anyway; maybe they had problems further north. The Solar Storm was more than powerful enough though to create havoc and mayhem on every electrical grid in North America and Europe though  through a series of cascading power events to declare lights out for the majority of the world as well as created many days of radio black outs. It took a week for most folks to even hear about and begin to understand what had happened to the world and its technology.

Farley had pretty much known from the very beginning that it was an EMP (Electromagnetic Pulse” event and his “oh shit!!” moment began much sooner than most folks the minute he turned on his radio after the lights went out. His cell phone had gone out at the same time the power went off.

He didn’t know why, but he had gone outdoors and looked towards the sky for some kind of sign before shrugging off such a notion of seeing an aurora and trying to start his car then tune in his radio. When nothing but static greeted his ears after a channel  search he raised his eyes to heaven again and thought “Ah Hell” before slinking dejectedly back in the house looking at the ground sadly. His mind clouded with worry about what he knew was ultimately coming. He knew some kind of EMP event was occurring and he had anticipated its consequences for years. This was no game or hobby now, a bit of excitement but mostly dread came over him at the realization it was only him and his preps against the world now.

He only had one brother for family but he lived far distant in another state. Farley’s phone worked because he had an old model but his brother had overlooked that particular prep in order to have the latest in convenience and technology of remote phones so his did not work without electricity. No way to get in touch with him now and no other preparedness minded folks in town he wanted to call so he just hunkered down and started playing in his preps and turning the apartment into his own version of prepper central.

He was now officially his own Chief Chaos officer and he set his place up to ride out the fall of society as best he could. He wasn’t worried that everyone would go bonkers or turn into zombies as soon as the news was out because he had ridden many a hurricanes aftermath out before and so had his neighbors; they were pretty resilient when it came to disasters.

Most people living in the city would be fine for weeks and they actually became better people and helped each other out after such a disaster. This gig was a little different though. No National Guard show of force or convoys bringing in relief supplies so it probably would get real interesting around here, he decided, and that’s when the first thoughts of bugging out had come to his mind.

He had tried to use some of this early warning or wisdom he had to think about doing a run to Wal-Mart to see if they were trying to operate after the power loss but blew it off as probably a fruitless idea. No, he was stuck where he was at with what he had on hand and that was going to be it for how long? Forever? Farley shuddered at the thought and then dismissed it optimistically.

Over the coming weeks as he scraped by, Farley knew hell and misery was going on outside his door but he just shut himself in after the first two weeks and tried not to warp his mind further by over-listening to the news on the radio. Saturating yourself in that 24 hours a day can cause a lot of harm to your psyche; it was particularly a problem in children he remembered, and grimaced at the thought of all the households that were doing exactly that, figuring what else do you do while waiting to be rescued or watching the chaos unfold but listen to the news?

Farley himself, however, was bored to death with the monotony of things but he busied himself with packing and repacking his gear getting ready for this dang fool bug out mission he was going on and kept his head down and away from extra problems that might cause his demise before he even ventured out.

He did a lot of map work in his constant plotting and scheming, looking at direct routes and reviewing alternate routes trying to guess and second guess where he might go and how in the world he would get there. One big question mark in planning his trip was that he didn’t understand how the bazillion miles of power lines and transformers would affect his trip.

Lines were down everywhere and were lying in the road in some places having been blown or burnt off transformers, while in other areas they looked normal. Substations, he noted, usually received the brunt of the damage and the smoke of them burning permeated the air with ozone and burnt insulation smell for days. The fire department fought many a valiant fight saving bits of the city until the exhausted workers and volunteers wore out. Many folks became homeless the first days from fires and they soon overwhelmed what little bit of help or charity that was still available from the preexisting infrastructure.

It was the luck of the draw and how far off you were located from such conflagrations of smoke and despair that set the tone for your own beginning of these end times and Farley considered himself lucky that he and his preps hadn’t gotten burned up yet. Whenever the yahoos  started burning down their neighborhoods with unattended or unsafe cooking fires or did something else really stupid like they always did burning this or that in protest that they weren’t getting their entitlements, the cities in America would soon be smoking hulks from the uncontrolled fires and the raging firestorms they would cause.

Farley couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around that fact. Yes, he had heard of millions of acres burned in wild fires and he had heard of the great fires in history that had devastated cities like San Francisco but nothing like the grand scale of firestorms going on nationwide now.

San Francisco was toast by the way, as well as most of California was, devastated from the quakes. The sky’s horizon around him was a constant red-black as fires burned out of control miles away. Reports of this or that major cities fires or vast woodlands burning uncontrollably droned on and on in travel advisories and alerts on the emergency broadcast channels to the extent that he decided that hell was now just part of living and he didn’t have any fireproof suit to escape it.

He had him, his preps and what passed for a semi-reliable bug out mobile with a half tank of gas to get the hell out of dodge and go somewhere safer for the moment but he had no idea what he would face on his way or experience once he arrived. The main thing was he didn’t want to get caught somewhere out of gas and trying to out run a fire on foot so the plan was to travel as close to water as he could and hope he didn’t get turned around too many times.

Distant memories of traveling some roads and the possible hazards on them plagued him. His normal course of travel for going to the lake traveled right across a small reservoir dam. As far as Farley knew, Alabama had only been hit with some minor quakes and that road might be o.k. but on the other hand it worried him and he found a detour around it but that detour had its own detours and now he was pretty much disoriented and confused.

That he had his preps and mostly good health to depend on he counted as a blessing and didn’t spend much of anytime feeling sorry for himself. He was better off than a lot of folks he figured and spending his youth hunting and fishing would give him some advantages but not a lot in surviving now. The main thing he decided that was in his favor is that he had experience gained from age and patience from facing life’s adversity before and keeping a positive outlook. He had a plan, he had knowledge to see it through and if he just could get a bit of luck on his side then maybe he might just make it a few more winters. Despair was not normally a part of his vocabulary and he sure didn’t need to let his guard down and allow any thoughts of ever giving up creep in. Hell, he thought optimistically, this is the biggest adventure he would ever go on and he planned on making the best of it to the best of his ability.

He wasn’t being overly optimistic, nor was he kidding himself in any way about the hazards and dangers he would be soon facing, he knew it was going to be brutal. He knew he could well die before 2 weeks were even out but he was boyishly thrilled at the prospect of utilizing old skills and new knowledge to overcome what he foresaw as a future.

“Shout at the Devil, you old Farley, you!  Time to piss on the fire, howl at the moon and get this show on down the road. Hot damn, time to get ready for tomorrow while living it today!” He said to himself before opening his last hot can of beer and starting to organize his pack one more time with a different outlook on coming back after the supplies he was leaving. 

“Man, I am going to be stove up as hell by the time I just get to the lake trying to hump this little bit of equipment.  I need to be moving slow, pacing myself and eating well to even get that next 8 or so miles under my belt so just that part will take me a few days and I will still be pushing it. Let’s see that first 10 miles I might be able to hike in a day, no, break it into two days and don’t kill myself while I am trying to get used to this existence. Take yourself two days buddy and break in the boots and the body.” Farley thought sagely to himself.

He was wearing his well worn-in construction style cowboy boots with a heavy open tread but that new pair of low quarter hiking boots would be better on slippery rocks, etc., down by the lake. He damn sure wasn’t going to try breaking them in on a road march but decided they would go along for the journey in his pack anyway. He had toted a second pair of military issue combat boots in his pack as required by military wisdom when he was in the Army and he had cursed the extra weight then but just about now it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“Hell, at least he didn’t have to carry a pair of rubber snow boots to go over them also now. Another set of clothes and 2 pairs of extra underwear and socks, ah add another shirt, a beachy looking civilian one just for the hell of it. He might want to look spiffy someday or just do the blend in vacationer thing. Blue jeans and OD long sleeve shirts was his outdoor camping thing usually but he had CAMO BDU’s (Battle dress uniform) in his gear. He also had civilian camo or what he called his deer hunting suits to consider, hell I bet half the world will be wearing that crap these days.” Farley thought thinking about deer hunting season and the folks that wandered in his Barbecue Joint hang out at this time of the year made it look like a RealTree camo convention.

“Gray man hell, you prepper folks worried about appearances, you should blend in with what folks are wearing or combinations thereof. O.k., no sense me going around full battle rattle looking like I am in the militia, I guess, and standing out though. Bad enough I am going full web gear.” Farley thought thinking of his LBE or military load bearing equipment. He knew the value in that stuff no matter how heavy or awkward it could be.

His field gear for this day was a pared down version of what he used to wear in the military and it was not something he could easily put in his pack or forget about its advantage in weight distribution when worn on the body. He had read a book way back when, called the Rural Ranger, that described a rig that he had taken mental notes on and he had customized them to meet his own needs that could sustain him all by itself if he lost his main pack or if he was just doing a lightweight day hike somewhere.

He had the normal web pistol belt with suspenders as the base to build off of. The thick nylon  belt splayed the clip on his little pistol holster if he decided to wear it that way but he usually just left it in his pocket or on his regular pants leather belt holding up his jeans anyway. Main reason he wore it there was that he dumped the web gear every chance he got when resting or doing camp chores because of its weight and even though it was old style Army and open in construction, it was still hot to wear.

He had two one-quart canteen pouches on it. One pouch held water the other carried survival tabs which in a pinch could provide him with two weeks’ worth of food. On the back of his belt he had a military poncho rolled and folded over for ready access secured with the old military boot blousing rubbers he used to wear in the service to hike his highly starched pants up over his jump boots in the old uniform of the day.

A butt pack was affixed to his rig; however, it was empty for now and probably would remain so. Weight was his enemy and every single ounce added counted, o.k., just for the hell of it he would add a couple entrée only MRE’s to it for mental comfort but that was it!

Damn, sure won’t be comfortable a mile or two down the road bouncing against his ass but he could take solace in eating it and lightening his load. Next was his ammo pouch which contained a plastic box of 100 rounds of CCI mini mag 22 and 50 rounds of .380 and an extra clip for the rifle and his pistol.

He had an AK magazine pouch with a carefully assembled survival kit in it that broke his heart to remove but he had his roly bag one in his pack. He did take a few items out of it and added them to his survival vest that he customarily wore at times and winced at the thought that thing was even too hot to put on today and would ride in or on his pack also for deployment later.

He had his battle bandage in a compass case on his suspenders and managed to stick in it some extra water purification tabs and a few extra fish hooks. A beautiful Stag handled knife set on his side topped off the ensemble but he attached an empty M16 magazine to the belt anyway in case he wanted to reconfigure and add more items later.

“Food, food, glorious food, just what in the hell is it that I am going to carry with me?” Farley said to himself thinking of all that wealth he was leaving behind. I could sit around here and eat like hell first but that is just delaying the inevitable. Speaking of which...” Farley thought and stuffed two small rolls of the cardboard-removed camping kind of toilet paper into his formerly empty magazine pouch on his belt.

“This sucks, I got winter clothes, a rocket stove, lanterns, gardening equipment and a ton of other shit that is just going to get left right here by the wayside waiting on me to get back or get stolen. Maybe I ought to just go scout my area a bit and set up my new home right here where I washed up at?” Farley fumed to himself.

He could go scout the area better and have a better camp than he could hope for as far as supplies went or he could go on this crazy road march to hell and play survivor man when he got wherever he ended up at. No telling if he was on the right track to find that old cottage anyway. If he screwed up and took the wrong roads etc., it wasn’t like driving 15 minutes in a car either way could get him un-lost and correct any mistake he made in direction. Covering those distances on foot took days and what if he had overshot the place to begin with? One tired, trail-worn, sweaty old man in the big scheme of things wouldn’t matter to anybody except to make them worried that he was up to no good as he trudged down the road and if folks didn’t set the dogs on him, then some stupid ass kid playing zombie killer like one of the mindless videos they liked might just take a shot at him thinking he wanted the food that might be in this old dudes’ pack.

“You better think about that aspect, Farley, kids and folks in general ain`t what they used to be. The internet gamers that enjoyed whacking everybody and everything in their little made up post apocalyptic worlds had no idea how to interact with new modern day survivors let alone take care of themselves and that made them very dangerous. Shit, it’s been 10 weeks or better since this crap hit, how many starving dogs we got on the loose now besides them addle-headed zombie apocalypse believers?”

“I best cut me a staff before I leave here. I could shoot any dogs that might attack me but on the other hand, you got to remember that this is the country and everyone just lets them run loose in normal times and I am used to dealing with that.

You talk to the dogs nicely, you holler at them, you give their territory in front of a house as wide of a berth as you can while talking about them and watching them. You tell them no, you stay on your way so they know you’re leaving and not threatening the family they might be protecting, etc. Hey zombie boys, can you walk the country roads and get along with the dogs in the best of times?” No, this was some serious shit to have to think on and Farley didn’t like any of it.

“Damn crazy men and women getting off their mental medications or becoming paranoid was also a consideration. So was the number of so called sane people that would be over reacting to any perceived threat being real or otherwise. Maybe he should go night hunter mode?” Farley thought wondering how dark these woods would get shortly and knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to see his hand in front of his face most likely.

Damn, he couldn’t even remember what phase the moon was in let alone think about walking up on a rattlesnake crossing the road in the dark. Do what comes naturally and what you know, Farley, and hopefully nature will eventually take over and teach you what she wants you to do. He considered many things in a whir of memories and once again began envisioning how long it would take him to shrug off his civilized manners and learn the way of the woods and jungle again.

Farley was tired, he had spent the night before in fitful late night sleep only to rise at first crack of dawn to begin his perilous bug out. Every turn, every creeping through darkened stop lights had played on his nerves and psyche as he white knuckled the steering wheel in bad areas. What fate had in store for him tomorrow he didn’t know, it felt like the dawn before another battle and he reminded himself to get his mind and any doubts or jitters under control before needing all his wits about him to see him through another day safely.

At least there were no mortars, missiles or artillery to face in the morning. No hidden machinegun nests to overcome but he needed to keep the threat of snipers in mind. Snipers were something that nobody ever got used to but he reminded himself you never hear the round that hits you.

“Enough with the war stories, Farley, you got a new battle ground and no team of brothers to assist you now. Ha, you always did want to try your hand at playing Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett and now by special arrangement you’re going to have to learn how to play with the Indians.” He thought bemused.

Farley was part Native American himself and the thought of him referring to the savages he might encounter as such irked him but he still talked and thought a bit like the Hollywood black and white westerns he grew up with to describe a frontiersman point of view.

“At least those old pioneers didn’t have to deal with feral dogs that had no fear of humans. I would take a bear or a pack of wolves over them domesticated dogs gone wild.” Farley thought, wondering how long it would be before all those strays everyone was probably letting loose on the world because they couldn’t feed them started packing up and getting a taste for human flesh from either the dead on the roads or their own hunting skills, he thought with a shudder.

“Wasn’t that time of the apocalypse yet mate, things were still kind of normal but with a disaster twist. Wasn’t that what he kept reminding himself? Ok, survival rifle remains packed, gun in normal but awkward ready position and I will keep one of those “whopper choppers” I got handy instead of carrying a staff.” Farley decided. A staff was sensible and wouldn’t give folks the cringes at him toting it versus that apocalyptic axe thing he was deciding on but on the other hand a long stick wasn’t as good for digging up tubers or looking Billy bad ass with walking up on somebody, even in a non-threatening manner.

It was our late great President Roosevelt that said “speak softly and carry a big stick” but Farley didn’t want to have to carry a staff and an axe on this first leg of his road trip. He considered carefully that he had seen many edible plants on the side of the road where he was at and it was going to be a long walk to where he was going.

Acclimating his body to consuming wild foods he would begin doing tomorrow because they were not as digestible to his city living body. Many plants and herbs possess characteristics that either aid or detract from the digestion. Many people might even be allergic to some of them. Farley figured that small doses of the wild foods that to his trained eye might be found in patches here and there abundantly could be introduced to his diet very slowly and also extend his long term storage food.

Now then, which ‘Whopper Chopper’ to take? Dang, that’s a hard question to answer. He liked the utility of the survival model Little Trucker multi tool axe but he also liked the reach of its full scale older brother. He had trapping, shelter building and defense in mind so he settled on the Big Boy, remembering just how mean a live bobcat could be in a snare that needed dispatching and all he had was a short stick to try to whop it with. Having settled on what he would carry on his person as for walking around gear, he cast his eyes towards his pack. What kind of food do I have in there anyway, he said to himself thinking that it’s contents of 72 hours worth of meals didn’t make too much sense because it was going to take him three days just to reach his destination and so he needed even more.

“Crap!” He thought. “Might as well get up now and go get more chow. I have been half ass thinking about it for some time now. MOUNTAIN HOUSE SEAFOOD CHOWDER! I am going to carry a whole damn can of that stuff with me! It doesn’t weigh much and I can get a bunch of meals out of it and hell, that’s my favorite comfort food! I ain`t keen to think the lid will stay on it toting’ it around in my pack so I better stick it in a big zip lock or something so it doesn’t matter if it comes loose.” Farley thought as he exited the van and started digging through his stash for the umpteenth time today.

“What about that idea I had of eating up some of my storage before I left here?” Farley said to himself with a grin thinking to himself after all that a bowl of chowder would be pretty great to celebrate his success in getting to this side of the post apocalyptic world and hugged a can of it like a Teddy bear. Farley really likes that stuff.

I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring but I’ll be eating pretty well for a little bit. Now then, canned goods: that stuff weighs heavy but I didn’t buy any of the camping size portions of the dehydrated food, so canned stuff that doesn’t require water also has its plusses.

Farley was from the era of the military that started out on C rations. Daily rations of tin can food packed military style. This modern day version he created for himself with cans of chicken or turkey or what not were adequate but he forlornly remembered his favorite C-rat pork slices that you could no longer get in any form or fashion. 

He also wished for some of that giant can size rice crispy infused chocolate discs that were great for barter that he hadn’t seen in a couple of decades but he augmented that with one of his old mainstays of hiding some pouches of fortified cocoa mix here and there about his person.

That cocoa mix is great stuff eating it straight out of the pouch and a great pick me up in vitamins and energy but the main thing it does for you is to fortify your soul if you have such a treat on a long march. Now when it comes to the new army stuff, he thought MRE peanut butter was the best thing that ever happened. Not only was it nutritious, it was also the most highly nutritious thing he could think of because he could probably bait at least 20 or 30 squirrels with it and still have him a taste.

“O.K. now, more MRE peanut butter to be added.”  He said to himself as he reached for a small get home bag that he’d been salvaging various bits and pieces of survival gear or chow from. “Hmm, Datrex bar! Blue version 3600 calories, well shit that’s three days flavor of coconut cookies if he wanted to favor that. Let’s see now...got one of those SOS bars that taste like lemon cookies that’s another 2400 calories, that’s five days in those packages. That’s probably another pound or two I am adding to this pack and I could be arguing with myself for days on how I’m going to do this.

No, wait a minute now, I’m being a smart puppy about this I guess, and those Coast Guard approved overboard rations that are two and a half weeks of getting by on in a two pound package so I guess they’re going. One can of canned chicken, two cans of deviled meat to go on those Pilot crackers I got and three MRE’s. And I will quit thinking about food for now; unless that counts that can of Spam I’m going to be eating like a caveman when I walk out of here in the morning.

Farley, you old sad-sack soldier, this isn’t making no sense, no sense at all, you could sit here like a king and set up your own little camp with all these supplies but for some damn reason you got your heart set on making it to that lake. Why is that?”

Farley knew, he wasn’t kidding himself. Oh, it was nice to think about bugging in to a nice lake cabin and being able to fish and draw water for drinking every day, but one of the things Farley knew was the key to survival was companionship. Eventually everyone knows that they need others. That’s why a solitary man goes crazy. Humans are not exactly herd animals but they require interactions with others to keep their focus and sanity. Farley had dreams of being able to create some kind of a new survival community but finding even one like minded person to team up with and increase his survival chances these days was just a thought. But maybe, just maybe, fate would cause somebody to cross his path that felt like sharing the daily living and chores together and it would be somebody to talk to, share the dangers with. Someone who would lend a helping hand when it was needed. Also was the thought that he wouldn’t feel like he was going to die all alone.

Not that it really mattered, a person can die alone in the middle of a crowd if there is no one left to mourn him. He figured it wouldn’t be bad to be remembered or share some of his gear with someone else and wanted the company anyway. Life wasn’t all about what one can possess but to share with others was part of his joy. Hell, he had too much stuff! It would be nice if he had somebody that would help him haul it back to where he was going and give them a chance to make it too. But Fate put him out on this dirt road all by his lonesome and except for the squirrel tossing things at him from the tree above; he didn’t have a friend in the world to stand by his side.

It was pitch black dark now outside and the fireflies spooked him as he looked for any kind of telltale lights in the distance that might alert him that someone else shared this part of his world. His arguments with the mosquitoes had been stilled long ago but he still reeked of OFF insect repellant spray in the confines of the van. He waited, he watched, he listened carefully and finally drifted off to sleep still assembling and reassembling that damn pack in his mind that he felt he had to do some more with in the morning.

2

MARCHING DOWN THE AVENUE

Farley woke before dawn and listened wearily to the woods around him. It was cool now, the oppressive heat and humidity of the day had not set in and if he did not have to go on this road march today, he might have just enjoyed this bit of respite.

“What the hell time is it anyway?” He wondered and turned the ignition key in the car on and saw the radio time of 3:45, that’s a hell of a time to be up, he thought to himself. Can’t see shit in here, so I’m not even messing with that pack this morning. I’m tired of packing and unpacking! He declared to the world as he exited the driver’s side noisy side door to his van and grabbed his gear and studied it for a moment.

What the hell am I missing? I know I’m missing something! I know I’m going to get halfway down this road and some damn thing that I probably got four of sitting here I won’t have one of then but Bullshit! If it isn’t in this pack or on me it ain’t going so...Ready, Set...OH, Your left, right your left...” Farley began to sing marching cadence to himself as slung his pack and set off on his journey.

The sun began breaking the dawn of the forest as he walked along and he began seeing the land’s dark features a little bit better. “Well, it looks like I’m heading towards the lake. This would be a royal bitch if I was headed in the opposite direction,” Farley thought ominously.

“Why is it I can’t remember a clue about how to orient myself with one of these damn button compasses?” he thought as a squirrel skittered through the leaves and underbrush, giving him a start. 

“Hey, squirrel, if you are kin to that scruffy heathen up the road that was throwing leaves and branches at me all day, I already done told him I was moving on!” Farley said joking with the animal that he had definitely snuck up on or didn’t care as he scuffled along in the dirt. Hey, that’s something I should be thinking on, I need to be making me some noise getting down the road so snakes and animals know I’m in the woods. Of course I shouldn’t be doing it too loud, it’s not like I’m in Alaska shouting at the bears.

That reminded me, it’s pretty dang crazy what they can sell to people and its pretty dang crazy what will work but...bear bells! Yup! Some people attach tiny little cow bells from the supply store so they could sound like Tinker Bell going through the woods! Farley always thought such shenanigans might ring the dinner bell for some critters that didn’t understand Wall Street advertising and he dang sure didn’t want one of his hunting buddies calling him any names, so that notion went out the window.

But singing softly or loudly in the presence of any critters he wanted out of his way that might be listening to his frog-like voice sometimes made sense to it. “Going down that dark, dusty road, singing my song...” he began singing and humming softly just to raise his spirits and just in case it did scare off a snake.

Now what in the hell is that? Farley said to himself spotting a bit of white paint in the distance. Somebody’s got them a house way out here in this neck of the woods after all, I gather, he thought to himself squinting into the distance.

He slowed his step and readied his axe that was now his critter getter in response to any chasing car dogs that might think it was funny to put a scare in him. You know them sons of bitches that wait right until you get close to them and then all of the sudden start racing alongside causing you to freak thinking that you’re going to hit him.

As Farley got closer, he noted that the bit of paint that he had seen and the glimpses he got through the woods evidenced a long abandoned ramshackle house of a bygone era that he wished he knew the story or history of.

See, Farley, all you have to do is go right down here and you have a ready-made house you could salvage or move into! But no, we’re going to the lake, right? He knew the place hadn’t seen habitation in Lord only knows when, but he still kept an eye on the place like some ghost or zombie horde was going to rush out after him and he was happy when he finally cleared it.

He thought how foolish that was and how he used to love to find and explore old, abandoned places, but to find this one here so close to his stash was something to consider as he stopped and reconsidered exploring this place. But that place had something dark and ominous about it that just didn’t feel right to him, gave him the creeps you might say. He thought about that feeling and decided to proceed on his way. Besides, its green mossy roof shingles laid decades ago was caving in over one section and the wet looking broken down porch had the same aura about it that told him there was no welcome here.

Funny, he thought, any other time I’d be snooping around that place like no tomorrow if it seemed safe to do. But today is for the living and not visiting the dead and I got miles to go before I probably have to sleep in a place like that tonight. Farley walked along this old piece of God forsaken road about another three miles and the sun was getting high, it was about 10:30 in the morning when he arrived at his next point of consternation.

“Aw hell, boy, somebody’s living over there. I wonder what’s going on? That yap-yap dog up ahead hadn’t had a chance to see me yet, I guess he’s barking at something else.”  Farley considered, slowing his pace.

“Oh, the axe I got in my hand. I ain`t putting it up, I’ll just have to lower it.” He said to himself going off the on-guard position. Damn, it sounded like a good idea to tote the thing but walking down the road trying to say Hi to a neighbor with it in my hand now just doesn’t seem right.

That’s probably a damn Chihuahua or some damn designer peek-a-poo dog that they make these days yapping at a squirrel or something. They run around yapping at everything thinking they’re doing their job! There are definitely some people living over there, though ...maybe they got some gas to sell or trade for and that would be cool!

Maybe they’ll give me a friggin’ ride back up the road a few miles with some gas and that would be even cooler! Maybe they’ll shoot my ass and that wouldn’t be cool at all.” Farley considered as he crept up to get a better look at the place.

––––––––

Farley got off the road and walked in the woods toward what appeared to be a bit of a clearing around an older house with a great big white garage. Whatever commotion was going on appeared to be happening in the back of the house. The little dog was in a fenced in area next to the house and looking at the garage.

He listened more and could hear what seemed to be a screen door slam and an old man hollering “Git!” and some more garbled words that he couldn’t hear. What the hell? Farley thought as he heard the old man holler “I’ll kill you boy!” And some young man hollering “I ain`t done nothing!”

Now this needs investigating but I ain`t getting into any family squabbles over there, Farley thought and against his better judgment headed out from the woods and across to the garage where he heard the voices coming from.

“Steal from me, will you? I will hack your head off!” he heard the old man shout. And something that sounded like “Please!” screeched by a boy.

Farley picked up the pace to see what was going on back there. Farley was about ten steps from the front of the garage and thinking about how he was going to go around the garage to confront what was happening when a streak of lightening in the form of a fourteen or fifteen year old boy came running out with a knife in his hand.

“What’s wrong, boy? Who is chasing you?” Farley said as he leveled his multi tool at him just in case he was a threat to him in his extreme fright.

”That old man back there!” the boy said skirting around Farley, giving him a wide berth and running like the devil himself was after him.

Farley turned his head back from watching the boy pass and saw an old overall-clad man with an insane crazy look in his eyes coming from around the back end of the garage with an old wood felling axe raised over his head.

“I’ll kill you, I’ll kill your daddy too!” The man yelled and started to charge at Farley.

“Hey now, you old bastard, hang on there, I ain’t that boy’s daddy!” he hollered at him but the old man with a wicked look in his eye just kept on coming.

“Ah shit, this son of a bitch is loony tunes crazy!” Farley thought with a momentary glance in back of him to see where the boy with the knife was.

“Calm down! Calm your ass down and back off!” Farley said dancing out of the way with his Whopper Chopper at the ready.

“I’ll kill you deader than hell too! You ain’t stealing from old Finch!” The sweating old man said with a bit of a white froth now forming on his lip and headed again in Farley’s direction with murder in his eyes.

“You’re the one that’s going to die, you old bastard, unless you back your ass off!” Farley said before he got out away from a wild swing of the axe in his direction that said that there was no more talking during this little death dance.

––––––––

Farley had played with what he playfully called his “whopper chopper, because he used it to whop things and chop things. This was his multipurpose axe tool he used frequently.

He had several times before this day tried to figure out what kind of fighting style do you need to sling something around that is some sort of  across between a battle axe and a war hammer and practiced his own odd style of fighting with it thinking he might have to use it as a weapon someday. .

He had beat the air and a few likely tree stumps and branches in an animated duel with invisible aggressors before but he never thought he would be facing a man with an axe. A damn long handled axe at that!

In his imagination, he had fought off invisible aggressors with Bowie knives and tomahawks but what was facing him now had some considerable reach to it and a crazy man in back of it. His martial arts practice as the karate masters called it “Kata” would include doing figure eights like in a movie or something, but he had never thrown the son of a bitch before and that was what he was thinking now to keep that old bastard from sinking it into whatever part of his body he could get to, so all Farley could do was dance around staying out of the way and looking for an opening to take advantage of.

Farley finally said the hell with this and became more aggressive. He momentarily saw the opening he had been waiting for and stepped in.  He swung his own weapon towards the man as the weight of the axe his aggressor was swinging carried the man sideways and left himself exposed and Farley proceeded to smack him right on top of the noggin with the flat of his own axe.

Farley thought about it later that he would normally have thought to hit him with the blade edge of the axe but it lent itself better to the whack attack like a giant spatula or fly swatter.

Axe and man went down like a ton of bricks and Farley caught himself holding the coup de grace killing stroke in his hand unsteadily standing over his attacker considering momentarily how far he should sink the head of his axe into him and put a permanent end to this nightmarish thing.

The old man didn’t move at all and there was blood seeping from a deep superficial wound in his skull starting to ooze onto the dirt.  Although the fight had only lasted seconds, Farley had to catch his hard breathing while he eyed his would be murderer on the ground in shock and disbelief.

“Is he dead yet? Did you kill that mean old son of a bitch?” The boy shouted with glee in back of him.

“Shut up boy! What the hell caused him to act like that anyway?” Farley said shaking with the adrenaline from the confrontation.

“You killed him! You got that crazy bastard, good job! Thank you, mister! My name’s Jeremy.” The teenager said approaching Farley with his knife still out.

“Put that knife up boy, and tell me what the hell this is all about? What is he after you for anyway?”  Farley said watching the boy sheath his knife.