Original Work The Unwelcome Sign

I took Jacob over to our house and we went through my 'box o'holsters' that ever pistol owner collects over his lifetime and found a hoster to fit the Smith & Wesson 3913 that Jacob had liberated. A perusal of my 'junk box' turned up a triplet of magazines that would fit, two of which were the slightly longer ones for a 639. They would fit, but stick out the bottom a bit. Upside would be a couple more rounds on board. A pouch to carry them in rounded things out.

I spent the morning covering safety and the basics of marksmanship and dealing with the double action/single action system of the Smith. We worked some drills to give him practial applications of Rule 2, something most instructors overlook, thinking that telling someone what is expected is enough. I find there can be a disconnect between words and actions, so I fit in practical exercises on muzzle discipline in a variety of settings beyond the artificial sterility of a 'square range'.

Jacob took to his lessons quickly, as you'd expect an eager, athletic teenage young man. Add to that a grim determination and you had the makings of an apt pupil. This was just a start. The shooting, moving, and communicating would come next.

“You ready for something to eat?” I asked Jacob as noon arrived.
“Yes sir. I could eat. Can we keep training afterwards?”
“I've got some other things that need tending to. You can help if you like, or I can find something else for you to do, or you can go off on your own. You're your own man now, like it or not. And let's ditch the 'sir' thing. Call me Zed.”
“Thank you sir, I mean...Zed”, for all their faults, Jacob's parents had raised him up to be polite and respectful. You could see him struggling with treating me familiarly, as an equal, but that was the point. I needed him to see himself as a man, not a kid. I've always found the Pygmalion Effect to be useful.

We joined Sadie for a simple but filling meal of corned beef on flatbread. Jacob was making up for missing some meals over the past week and had thirds. That's all right, I need him to be strong, and his apetite indicated that his will to keep going was just fine.

“What are your plans for the afternoon?” I asked Sadie
“I've got lot's of chores to catch up on. Garden, checking on the chickens, and I'm sure there's more that will crop up as I think of it. How about you?”
“I was thinking of going over to Carol's to ask about holding another meeting to talk about the things we discussed yesterday.”
“Carol doesn't like you. Either of you.” this, from Jacob, who looked kind of embarrassed, whether from interupting and interjecting himself into our conversation, or from telling us that someone didn't like us, I'm not sure. Probably a little of both. Jacob might have shared those feelings, not knowing us, except what he heard from Carol, via his parents.
I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring look, “What sort of thing is she saying about us?”
“Oh, that you two aren't cooperating to help the community, and that you are dangerous, always carrying around those guns, that sort of stuff.”
“Do other people think that too?”
“Well, sure, some do. Those that hang out over at her house. The ones that are getting the food from her. She talks to as many people as she can.”
“You think it's a problem?”
You could see that i'd surprised him, not just asking for a recounting of what he knew, but honestly requesting his opinion. He hesitated before answering, knowing it was important. Not just for the information, but for how it would inform our view of him.
“Well, yes, I think it could be. Carol's whipping people up. I don't think she has much food left to give out to people. When it's gone, they won't need her anymore. She won't have any power over them. She thinks you have food here. She'll need it. And she'll have to act fast while people are still listening to her.”
I was impressed at how he put that together. “How much time do you think we have?”
He paused to think, knowing the answer was important, because of the security implications and because he wanted to impress me.
“A day. Maybe two.” he seemed like he was going to say more, but stopped. Most people talk to much, feeling like they have to justify themselves, or just to fill in the gaps. Clear, succinct answers are not the norm.
“So what should we do?”
It probably wasn't a fair question. I might have pushed a little too far, loaded him a with a little to much. But, in for a penny, in for a pound. I sat back in my chair to give him some space.

He had a few false starts and then went on, basically thinking out loud, working it out as he went.
“Well...Carol has a bunch of people looking to her. . Listening to her..I guess maybe around 15 or so, more if we count everyone in each of those houses..but not the young kids...so maybe twenty to thirty. . I don't think many of them have guns.. I only saw two or three people, and they only had pistols...”
“Ok, so that's a description of the enemy forces. Will they attack us? If so, how?”
“Johns is the head guy for security, and he doesn't seem that sharp. I guess they would all just show up in a group and demand you give them what they want.”
“And if we don't give it?”
Another pause to consider, “They would push their way in”
“What about the dogs?”
“They would get hurt. While they don't have guns, I bet they would bring some sort of weapons with them. Machetes, sticks.”
“After they hurt the dogs?”
“They keep coming.”
“Where will Carol and Johns be?”
“In the back where they are safe.”
“So what do we do?”
“I guess you have to defend yourself.”
“Start shooting unarmed people?”
“They aren't unarmed, they will have machetes and stuff”
“So wait until they are in my yard, have hurt my dogs, and then start shooting them?”
I knew I was pushing him, and I hoped I wasn't pushing too far. He was doing well and this was formative. Like a fine blade, he needed just the right amount of heat and pressure. Too much and he'd become brittle and snap. Not enough and he'd bend too easily.
He looked up from the floor and into my eyes, “We have to stop it before it gets that far.”
“Why?”
“Fewer people will get hurt, it will be easier to do, and there is less risk to us.”
“Good man. Any ideas?”
“Well you said you wanted to go talk to Carol. Can you shut it down there?”
“You tell me.”
“How persuasive are you? What will you say to her?”
“Not sure yet. Let's say I can't talk her out of it.”
“We need to keep them as far away as possible.”
“Good. Where?”
I watched as his eyes moved up and right while he pictured the layout of the neighborhood and then down and right as he held a discusion with himself. After a moment he met my eyes again. “At the Y in front of my house.”
Jacob's house sat in the crotch of a Y in the road. The left fork led to my house, the right went down and circled around, ending at the condos. That branch defined the lower boundary of my property. The knoll that I've mentioned before lay directly between the Quinn's house and ours, keeping us from seeing each other, even though we were only 200 yards apart.
“That area in front of your house is very flat and open, Jacob”
He frowned as he thought, wanting to get it right. “There would be plenty of room for the crowd to spread out...it would be harder to control them, especially with just a few people.”
“You got it. Now keep going with it.”
“Just up the road, where it's going up hill”
“What about it?”
“There's a hill on one side of the road, and it drops off on the other. The bush is really thick on either side. People would have to stay on the road.”
“Ok, so we just stand in the middle of the road and say “none may pass?” I grinned at him. He returned it. “No, we need a barrier. . . A car?”
“A car. So we can move it. Maybe some other stuff. We can cut some small trees and drag them in place to prevent anyone getting around the car.”
“So when do we start?” Jacob seemed anxious to get moving.
“I want to talk to Carol first. Not that it will do any good, but I want to try.”
“Can I go with you?”
“I was counting on it.”

I felt better that we had a plan, and that it looked like Jacob was going to be an asset. But there was a big problem with the plan we just laid out.

Stan, Mr. Charles, Wayne, Nibbs, and Paco, my other allies in the neighborhood were all on the wrong side of our proposed road block.


“Oh. My. God! Is that a GUN?!” was how Carol greeted Jacob and me when we arrived at her house. She looked from the pistol on Jacob's belt to me, trying to burn a hole through the back of my head with her accusing glare.
“He's just a boy! Do you think that's appropriate?!”
“Good afternoon, Carol, how are you doing today?” The usual hangers-on at Carol's gathered around us. Jacob stood his ground and despite Carol looking to me for answers, responded himself.
“It's my gun. I took it from the man I killed, after he raped and killed my mother. Zed's the only one that's treated me like a man and has started showing me how to use it safely. So, yes, it's a gun, no, I'm not just a boy, and I don't care if you think it's appropriate.”
Carol recoiled from Jacob's words as if he had physically struck her. I took advantage of her momentary pause and spoke while she was still off balance. The handful of people took involuntary steps back and started whispering among themselves. I noticed one of them slip off in the dirction of Detective Johns' house.
“We need to have a community meeting, I'd like to hold it in the next day or two.”
“Why? We don't need a meeting. What would we meet about?”
“A number of critical items. I'm sure the food bank must be almost empty, (more quiet gasps and mumbling from those assembled) we need to figure out how we are going to get more. Security is an issue. We are not dong anything to protect ourselves. Not in any meaning ful way any how. And we should look at having an vote on the leadership of the community.”

That got her attention.

“What do you mean a vote on the leadership?!”
“There are a number of people that think given the nature of our current situation, that the people should be given the opportunity to vote on who leads them through these trying times.”
“The people did vote! I'm the properly elected president!”
“Well, if the people still feel that way, then you have nothing to worry about, they'll vote to keep you. Are you worried? If people thing you've been handling the situation properly, they will be happy to vote for you again.”
“But of course they think I've been doing a good job! I've made sure that everyone is eating. Having a vote is a waste of time! Totally unnecesary!”

“Ok, let's put that aside for a moment. Shouldn't we meet and discuss the food situation? And what we are doing and should do, about security?”
“More time wasters! I'll be leading another trip to the government food center tomorrow to re-stock.”
I briefly thought about keeping my mouth shut and letting her lead that group, thinking that would solve a number of problems. I noticed Jacob looking at me expectantly. He was waiting for my cue. It was he that got the information that the food distribution points were closed. He could have mentioned it to Carol, but he was keeping it to himself, waiting to see how I played it.

Actually, it turned out that I took my cue from him. I decided to not say anything about the outside conditions. How much trouble could I get into for a sin of ommision?

“Ok, then, what about security? You're happy to just leave things the way they are?”
“Johns and his men are patroling the neighborhood. We haven't had any trouble, so they must be doing a good job. I don't see any reason to second guess them. They are the experts and I believe in staying out of the way and letting them do their jobs.”
Carol was on a roll now. “So I really don't see the need for any meeting. Everything is well in hand. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do, organizing the trip to get supplies”
There was no sense continuing, so we said our goodbyes and left. I steered us uphill, towards Mr. Charles and Stan's house.

 

“Notice she didn't ask anything about my parents? Let alone offer her condolences.”
“Are you surprised?”
“I guess not. It's amazing how self centered she is. And no one else notices it?”
“They either don't want to notice, or are self involved to the point that they can't notice. Results the same. Actually, there's a real good chance she's a sociopath”
“No empathy for others? That makes sense”
I looked at him closely. It's all too easy for an older person to dismiss teenagers as immature, with no experience or knowledge. And like any other stereotype there is just enough truth in it to perpetuate itself,
And just like any other stereotype, it can blind you to an individual's true worth.


“So, what would you think about moving?” Stan waited until Sandy finished serving our drinks and for her to sit down before he answered.
“Why would we move? Where would we go?” He asked the obvious questions
“I think you are exposed here, and we would all be better off closer together. We can support each other better and have a samller perimeter to defend. You're just renting here, so you don't have any real tie to this place.”
“But where would we go?” Sandy repeated Stan's question.
I didn't answer, instead looking at Jacob, who answered for me.
“My house. I have plenty of room and don't want to be there alone.”
“And it's in a good location.” I added. “You'd have Doc next door and Sadie and me right around the corner. I hope to get a few more people moved into that area soon.”
Stan and Sandy looked at each other. There was the expected initial resistance, as there is to all new things. Then they started thinking it through. Jacob broke into their thoughts.
“There's really lots of room. And did you see in the paper a month or so ago about my dad's architectural firm winning an award for designing a 'green' commercial building?”
“That was your dad?”
Jacob nodded with obvious pride. “Yeah. And he did some of that stuff at our house, so we have solar power for everything, and the house is set up to be energy efficient, so it's cool in the summer.”
Sandy asked, “you have running water? And can charge stuff like laptops?”
“Sure! And we have a kickin' entertainment center with a 60” TV. We have like ten terabytes of movies and TV shows on hard drives.”
The former sold Sandy, the later, Stan.
“I guess moving makes sense, and as you say Zen, there's nothing holding us here. You sure this is what you want Jacob?”
“I can't stay there by myself. I haven't been inside since I got back. I'm not looking forward to it. It would be easier if other people were in there too.”

Although their minds were pretty much made up, we all walked down to Jacob's house so they could see it. Jacob stood at the door, hesitating. I gave him a few moments then put my hand on his shoulder. He must have drawn strength from the contact, or maybe he thought I was being impatient. Either way, he pulled the door open and entered.
I made note of the direction of the door opening and mentally applauded Jacob's dad for it. It was a solid wooden door, which would lend itself to being easily reinforced. It's easier to push a door in, than to pull it open, making this one harder to break into.
Entering, I saw brakects for 2x4s on the interior of the door and frame. While meant to keep out hurricane force winds, they would be just as good at keeping out intruders.
The other three had stopped in the middle of the living room, looking around. Each with their own thoughts. While I was looking at the house from a defensive standpoint, and Sandy and Stan trying to picture their lives here, those thoughts were of the future. Looking at Jacob, I could tell his thoughts were of the past.

While I watched, he literally shook it off, head and shoulders shivering and he came back to the present. He went into tour guide mode and showed us the rest of the house.

It was a single story, open plan with a large kitchen/dining/living area at the front of the house. A hall lead to three bedrooms in the back, one of which had been converted into an office, presumably dad's as a drafting table took pride of place. It shared a walk through bathroom with Jacob's bedroom.

The master bedroom was on the other side of the hallway and was unremarkable, being typical of the type with a king sized bed, walk in closet and attached bathroom.

Jacob's room was a typical teenage boy's room. Typical until you remembered what his mother was like. When I enter a room and see books on a shelf, I can't help myself, I go over and look. Part of that is that I love books and reading. And part of that is that the titles give me an insight into the owner. It turns out Jacob's interet in the bow comes by way of Legolas rather than Katness. Oddly, I was greatly relieved at that discovery.
The obligatory comic books ran to “The Unknown Soldier” and “Sgt. Rock” rather than the normal superheros. Hanging from the ceiling I recognized a Sopwith Pup, a P51 Mustang, and F4 Phantom, with an FA-18 Hornet rounding out the century of air superiority.
Seems Jacob has an interest in the military, despite his mother's best efforts.
Or maybe because of them.

While Jacob continued showing Stand and Sandy around, I went off on my own, wanting to look at the house from a defensive standpoint. It's construction was the same as the vast majority of buildings, being concrete block. The door and window areas were poured concrete. The cells in the blocks should be poured too, but that can be a crap shoot, depending on the contractor as to whether or not they were concientious in making sure the pours went all the way to the bottom.

Even pistol bullets will go through empty block. You might have to put a couple of rounds in the same place to chew your way through, but through you'll be. Most rifle rounds will make it through on the first go.
The poured concrete around the doors and windows are a much better barrier, as are the blocks if indeed, they have been filled.
Still, better ballistic protection than a stick house.
All of the openings had solid wood shutters for hurricanes protection. I was surprised at this, expecting a more modern approach using metal shutters. The wood was a decorative feature and can be left in place, open, so I guess aesthetics drove the decision as much as practicality.
Small holes could be made in the bottom of them, providing loopholes just above the concrete sills.
I'd like to add another layer of protection, maybe 'flower boxes' or something similar.
I found the utility room, off of the kitchen. It had a pantry section that was empty, a washer and dryer, and along one wall, all of the off grid power. A bank of deep cycle 6 volt batteries were wired together, with the controlling circutry mounted on the wall above them. Looked like enough to run the house.
There was a door off the utility room, leading into the enclosed back yard. I opened the door and found myself looking at the knoll that seperated this house from mine. The observation point Sadie and I had found wasn't visible through the bush, even though it was only about seventy five yards away.
I looked at the bushy hillside thinking a path from here to the look out, would connect our two houses by a second, concealed route, and access to the observation post would be useful in it's own right.

Standing out in the backyard, I looked at the surroundings from a defensive standpoint. I'd have to go out and look back at the house from the view point of an attacker, see what they would see, think like they would think. That would help me formulate a plan for converting this house into a strong redoubt. It was in a good location, and stood between the outside world and my house.

I held my hand out at arms length towards the setting sun. Two fingers barely fit between the bottom edge of the sun and the horizon. About half an hour til sundown.

“It's going to get dark soon. Let's call it a day and start early tomorrow. We'll get Doc and Sadie invovled and get you two moved in here. There's lots of other things I'd like to get done to secure this place. The sooner we start, the better I'll feel.”

Stan and Sandy said they'd be ready early and we all headed out the door, even Jacob. I looked a question at him.
“Do you think Doctor Shoemacher would mind me staying with him tonight?” He didn't need to spell it out for me.
“Sure, I don't see why not. Let's go ask. And you're always welcome at our place”

I left Jacob with Doc, who seemed glad for the company. I then trudged the rest of the way home, another long day in the books.

 

Peter Charles - YouTube

Tell all your friends!

 

Great continuing chapters. I was surprised that it was only day 7. Time flies when you're. . . . . .
Enjoyed your website also.
GB

 

Thank you for adding more chapters to your amazing story! You are an extremely talented author with a writing style that conveys a realism in your work! Truly one of the best SHTF stories I have ever had the pleasure to read!

 

Awesome! Can't wait until Carol gets what is coming to her...

 

Damn, when you do an update you do an UPDATE. Keep it up you'r giving Chris Nuttall a run for the money.

 

Zen,
Thank you for these new chapters. I truly love the way you work good advice and knowledge into the story without it being over bearing(taking over the story) like some, er, more well known stories... the writing is better too, better more realistic dialog, and the sociological mixture is much more appealing for most people living in 'real world'...

 

DAY 9The day started well. We had six people and five vehicles involved in the move. After the second trip we fell into a rhythm, and started working as a team. It was unspoken, people saw what needed to be done, figured out the most efficient way to do it, and did it.
It's amazing what a small cooperative group, willingly working together, can accomplish.
On one of our trips, I noticed Mr. Charles in his garden, so I pulled in his drive to chat and let him know what we were doing.
“I was wondering what was going on, what with all these cars going back and forth, loaded down like the Beverly Hillbillies.” he smiled and winked at me.
“Yeah, we figured it would be safer if we were closer together. I'm sure we can find room for you, maybe down in the condos.”
“Now do I look like someone that would live in a condo, boy!?” His anger was clearly feigned, and it made me happy that he felt comfortable enough to josh with me.
“Well no sir, you don't rightly look like one of them there fancified con do min ium dwellers, no how” I replied with an over the top hillbilly drawl.
We both chuckled, and then turned serious.
“I know I'd feel safer closer to you folks, but I have my garden here. I need to stay close to it, not just to tend it, but to keep varmints out of it.”
“You know, there's that land just to the east of us, where they terraced it for farming? It's closer to me than you are here. It's quite a bit bigger than your plot, maybe two acres or a bit more.”
“Yes sir, weren't they growing vegtables and herbs for local restaurants?”
“That's what I thought. The people working it lived elsewhere, and I haven't seen any activity there since this has all happened. Would it be possible to start a new garden there, and phase this one out?”
He paused to ponder, eyes looking out, but he was really looking inward.
“Well, I suppose that might could work. But that's a lot of land to work by myself.”
“Understood. I'll do what I can to get you the help you need. Let's talk more about it soon.”
We shook hands and we went back to our tasks.
It was mid morning when the first distraction interupted our work. I was carrying a laundry basket piled high with clothes across the yard when I saw them.

Two women were walking up the road towards us, coming from the dircetion of the condos. They both were armed with what apeared to be hastily made walking sticks, and had day packs slung on their backs. I stopped and put the basket on the ground to free my hands and gave a quick 360 degree scan of the area. Nothing caught my attention, but Doc and Sadie realized something was going on. They couldnt' see the women from where I was. I motioned for them to stay where they were.
I moved closer toward the road and the women, mainly to be nearer a large tree in the yard. One was blonde, the other, brunette and they seemed to be thirtyish. Both were dressed sensibly, with loose tee shirts, modest shorts and high end, lightweight hiking boots.
I stopped by the tree and waited for them to reach me, taking one more look around, partly to see if this was a distraction (although I doubted it or the women would have been dressed more provocatively) and partly to see what everyone else was doing. I noted that they had all stopped carrying things and had sought protected positions.
“Hi. Howya doing” the brunette broke the ice when they came within social distance.
“Good moring” I replied, figuring by her greeting that she was a tourist or short term resident of the island. They closed the distance and stopped about ten feet away.
The part of the yard where I was standing was a foot or two higher than the road, so they had to look up to me to speak. I knew it was a bit rude, but I wanted the psychological and tactical advantage for the moment.
I stood, waiting for them to speak.
“Hi” the blonde repeated the other's greeting.
I looked them over to reinforce my initial appraisal. I didn't ping off of them, I didn't get any bad, or weird vibes. I stepped off the bank and joined them on the road, to equalize the meeting.
“I'm Zed” I stuck out my hand to the brunette. 'Denise' accompanied a firm handshake. Turning to the blonde I recieved another solid shack and a 'Fiona'.

 

“So what brings you out on such a beautiful apocapytical day?” I flirted.
“We were going stir crazy down in the condo and just needed to get out.” Denise answered. Fiona added, “We wanted to find out what was going on. We haven't had any news for a few days.”
“You two staying in the condos?”
“Yes. We got in just a day before everything went crazy. Great timing, right?”
“So you're tourists?”
“No, Denise and I are traveling nurses. We have a six month contract at the hospital. We were supposed to start next week.”
“We came in a little early to get our bearings and settle in” Denise continued. “Thought we'd spend some time on the beach, do a little exploring.” Fiona snorted, “That worked out just like we planned. Not.” She rolled her eyes.

Seeing that I was having and extended conversation, the others gathered around. I made introductions all around. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed that Doc shook Denise's hand a moment or too longer than strictly necesary. She gave no indication that she minded.

“Would you join us for lunch?” Sadie asked
“I'm just about to fire up the grill and toss some steaks on” Stan contributed.
Fiona looked at Denise, who nodded, “Sure, we'd love to.”

We gathered around the grill, waiting for it to heat up. Our mouths really started to water when Stan through on the ribeyes.
“Hope none of you all are vegetarians” he called.
“Nope, we're both from Kansas, and we surely do like us some beef!” Denise drew out the country girl drawl, getting a chuckle from the rest of us.

“Hey, Doc, I don't know if you heard, but Denise and Fiona are both nurses”
“Really! That's great! I hate to say it, but I think things are going to get rough and your skills will come in handy”
Fiona's expresion changed to a frown. “What do you think of our chances of getting home?”
I looked at her, and then Denise. “I don't know. I don't even know whats going on 'back home'. I'd say right now your chances aren't good. Once things settle down, you might be able to get a ride on a boat. But that' ll get you to somewhere on the coast. Getting to Kansas is another matter.”
“I figured about as much” Denise said. Fiona didn't reply.
Doc picked back up. “What kind of nursing do you do?”
“Denise works ER in a trauma center, I worked in a private practice oncology and hemotology office.”
“Did you check in at the hospital here?”
“We did. On the first day. It was a mad house. No one had any idea what was going on.”
Denise cut in, “we couldn't even find someone to talk to us. It was crazy. We tried to go again the next day, but we didn't even make it as far as the hospital. It was nuts. Everyone was insane. We were lucky to get back home.”

 

“Come and get 'em!” Stan interupted. We all jumped up and got in line, everyone anxious to dig into one of those juicy steaks, whose smell had been making us more and more hungry. Unfortunately, we weren't the only ones.

Conversation died down while we busily cut and chewed our ways to the bone. I'd made a huge dent in mine when I heard Jacob say; “Um Zed..”
I looked at him and then followed his gaze up the road. To about where he and I talked about putting the road block.
I wish we had, because there was a group of a dozen or so people heading our way.
None of them looked happy.

Stan got up, picked up his shotgun from where it had been leaning against the picnic table, slung it and moved off to the right side. I noticed Jacob follow him, bow in hand. I got up, deliberately leaving my rifle behind. I had plenty of back up for this crowd and I didn't want to be inflamatory. Besides, I didn't see any visible weapons.

I met them at the edge of the property, not wanting to give them the chance to get any closer to the house.
“Good Afternoon” I opened.
“We smelled your food” the large man in front of the group said.
“Good Afternoon” I repeated. A few people shuffled their feet, heads hung and returned a half hearted “Good Afternoon”
“What can I do for you today?”
“We smelled your food” I guess the tape loop got stuck.
“And?”
“We want some.”
“So?” I wasn't giving an inch.
“You have food. We don't.”
“What's that have to do with me?” I wanted him to spell it out.
“You need to give us some of your food”
“I do? Why?”
“I already told you. We don't have any.” He was getting aggitated. He looked around at his group to see if they were supporting him. So did I. It was a mix. A couple of people stood arms crossed in front of their chests, nodding aggreement, and trying to stare me down. Others were clearly uncomfortable and embarrassed.

“So...we should just give you food, because you don't have any? That about right?”
“That's right”
“What about Carol? Why aren't you getting food from her? We already donated food to be distributed.” I saw some of the embarrassed people look up at that, and then share looks with each other.
“That food's gone. My family is getting hungry. Do you want them to starve?”
I pointedly looked at his ample girth. At six feet tall and nearing three hundred pounds, he hadn't missed many meals. None of them had.

“I'm sorry to hear that. I'd hate for your family to starve. But I don't see that it is my responsibility to give you food. I tell you what. I will trade you. You give me an day's work, and I'll give you enough food for a couple of days. Fair?”

“I ain't no damn slave! I'm not working for you for no damn food!” He stood tall, head back, arms out to the side, bounching on his toes and took a step forward, trying to intimidate me. It was such a text book example of Ritualized Combat that I had to restain a chuckle that rose unbidden at the sight.

This could go south quickly. I put my hands in front of me, plams out, placating. “I understand your upset and concerned. These are worrying times. I don't want any trouble, and I'd like to work something out with you. But I have a responsibility to my people, I know you understand. I can't just give things away. We don't have much. But I am willing to trade. If you don't want to trade labor, that's cool, no worries. What else do you have that you could trade for food?”

He stopped his bouncing, head coming forward, chin protecting throat, eyebrows protecting eyes, shoulders rolled forward and arms and hands came to center body.
That gave me half a seconds warning as to what was coming next.

“I ain't trading for no damn food!”

 

I started my side step while his hand was pulling the front of his shirt up. This gave me a clear shot and gave him a moving target. I had a full firing grip on my holstered pistol about the same time I saw the grip of the pistol in his waistband. Time slowed and percption sharpened and narrowed. An errant part of my brain recognized it as a Beretta 92 and that the decocker was in line with the barrel. I also noticed that his sizable paunch was not only hairy but impeding his draw.
My muzzle snapped out of the holster and towards the large man, with the pistol continued up my side to the retention position, elbow straight back, the motion turned into a punch, left hand intercepting right on the way forward. He was still scrabling to get a grip on his gun.
I was looking at his right eye. There was a confluence of events as aligned sights interupted my sightline, my elbows locked, and the last few ounces were added to the trigger pull that started as the pistol traveled forward.

The sights rose slightly in recoil for a brief moment before settling back down on a now empty eye socket.
The large man remained standing for a moment, a moment that seemed much longer than it really was, dragged out by the chemical and neurological reactions I was experiencing. I even had time to realize what I was going through and muse about it.
Then, as if his every bone turned to liqued, he dropped.

There was a stunned silence as enormity of what happened dawned on the group. I brought my pistol into a low ready, getting it out of my view.

“Nobody move!” I said firmly, not yelling. A woman that had been standing next to the large man dropped to his side.
“Stop!” I started to bring my pistol up when I saw she was going for the gun still entrenched in his pants. She did a better job of getting it out than he did. I was just finishing my decision to shoot her when it became a moot point.

Before she could aim at anyone she was thust sideways across the large man's body, Stan's load of 00buck having taken her high in the chest. Shooting from the flank prevented anyone else in the group from getting hit. One of the nine pellets must have hit something important, as she let out one final breath and deflated like balloon.

I didn't have to repeat my command to not move. There were ten statues in front of me. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, took another, held it for a moment and let it out the same way before reholstering my pistol.

“That didn't need to happen. But I won't appologize for it. We all know things are different now. It's going to get worse. I'm willing, no, I'm happy to work with anyone. We NEED to work together. But I won't be taken advantage of. I know many of you are unprepared for this situation. We are willing to help you, but you have to do your share. Money has no value right now. So if you want something you don't have, like food, or anything else, you are going to have to figure out what you have to trade for it.
I'm willing to talk to any of or all of you, but I won't be threatened and I won't be bullied.” I pointed at the bodies. “You can see how that turns out. I tried to be reasonable, and he didn't want to be sensible. Anybody else want to try it his way?” I looked each and everyone of them in the eye. Some looked away, and some nodded.
“So you mean it? You'll give me food if I work? This from one of the men in the back. One of the group that seemed embarrassed to be a part of the group.

“Absolutely. There's a lot to be done” I swept my arm back indication the people behind me. My people. “We can't do everything that needs to be done by ourselves. “What needs to be done?” said another of the embarrassed contingent.
“Lots of things. Main things off the top of my head are working on the defenses and making sure we have enough food.”

 

“Defenses? What for?”
“Look what just happened here.” I pointed at the bodies again. “There's hungry people all over. Hungry people are desperet people. They are going to come to our neighborhood, just like you came to my house. We need to be ready.”

“What are we going to do about food?”
“That's a tough one. I've given it some thought and have some ideas. I've talked with some other people in our community about it. But it will take a lot of work.

One woman asked, “What if we can't work?”
“Everyone can do something. You will need to figure out what you have to offer. What can you do. It may be childcare for the other people that are working. It might me cooking or cleaning, or any number of other things that need to be done.”

“I ain't doing no cooking or cleaning” said one of the woman from the defiant part of the group.

“Well, that's fine, nobody is going to force anyone else to do anything they don't want to. Not if I have anything to say about it. But I don't see how you expect to get along if you aren't willing to do anything to help yourself.”

She sucked her teeth and looked away, but didn't argue with me. I also noticed she drew some disaproving looks from the crowd.

“If any of you want to take part, be here tomorrow morning at eight o'clock. If we pull together we can get through this. If we don't, it's going to get ugly.”

“What about them?” The first man indicated the bodies lying on the ground.
“What's your name?
“Daniels”
“Guess they need to get buried Daniels. Do they have any kin that will deal with them?” I didn't get an answer
“Well, can't just leave them there. We give dinner to the first four of you that step forward to help with digging the graves.”

Daniels, and the other man that talked with me quickly came towards me. The rest looked at each other before one, and then another shrugged their shoulders and joined us.

“Ok the rest of you can go on home now. If you show up ready to work tomorrow, we'll be glad to see you. If you show up looking for trouble, you'll find the same reception as these two.”

The group slowly turned around and dispersed. I introduced myself to the other three, and we set out to find a place to plant these two trouble makers.

“So what did you do before this happened?” It took us the better part of the afternoon to dig a hole big enough for the large man and the womna. We were back sitting in the yard eating a simple but nourshing meal of rice and beans mixed with leftover ribeye from our interupted lunch.
No one had been saying much, lost in their own thoughts. It was time to break that off and change the subject to something useful.

“I was a mechanic at the car dealership” answered Daniels. His friend, the other one that spoke after the shooting, was Wilfred. Will worked for an alarm company as an installer. In the course of conversation I pulled out of them that they were both avid radio control hobbiests, starting out with cars, but moving into gliders and powered planes when the prices came down and made them affordable. I filed that information away to ponder later. Those were some useful skills to have. I don't think they had to worry about going hungry.
Not if I had anything to say about it.

 

Sadie and Sandy were sitting at another table with Denise and Fiona. I looked that way every now and again to see how they were getting along. Everything seemed Ok, conversation going back and forth between all of them. That was a relief. I was a bit concerned about how witnessing the killing would effect them. I'd get more from Sadie later.

Several of us all noticed at the same time. The third time people interupted our day. Detective Johns and his two deputies were walking down the hill towards us. When they were seventy five yards away I asked Stan and Jacob to move to a flanking position like they had done earlier.
At fifty yards I stood slowly, and just as slowly, deliberately drew my Glock to a ready position, pulled the mag, checked it, reinserted it, tugged on it, pulled the slide back a third of an inch to check the chamber, tapped the back of the slide to make sure it was in batttery, and reholstered. I picked up my rifle and did the same thing, then putting it back where it was before walking to the edge of the property. I hope he recognized the slight.
Johns stopped where he was while I did this, obviously having second thoughts. He continued towards us after seeing me put the rifle down. but there was an obvious hesitation in his step.
I waited for him at the road. He stopped in front of me and without preamble said, “You're under arrest”
“Good afternoon”
“He said you're under arrest” this, from the deputy on my right. I guess there wasn't much chance of it working twice in one day, feeling out the supporters by using the normal social conventions. So I used another local ploy. I just stood and stared at them, face totally blank.
Six feet seperated Johns and me, a comfortable social distance. It was Johns' move and he didn't know what to do next. He and the deputies looked nervously to their left, looking in the direction that Stan and Jacob had gone. I don't know if they were visible, not wanting to divert my blank stare from Johns.
He looked back at me. The deputies shuffled their feet, shifting their weight back and forth waiting for Johns to take the lead.
And still I stared.
Johns put his hand on his pistol slowly, hesitatiantly. It was hard for me to not laugh. It was obvious he wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else. It was becoming obvious that he had been put up to this. And while it might have seemed like a good idea at the time, he was now reconsidering that postition.
“Put your hands up and turn around”
“I'm not sure what authority you are operating under currently. I haven't seen you go to work since this happened. But let's put that aside for the moment. What am I being arrested for?”
I heard people coming up behind me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sadie and the other women to my right. Was that my rifle in Denise's hands?
“for murdering Harcourt Cannonier and his wife Judith. Now get your hands up and turn around”
“That was clear cut self defense, they both drew first!” I turned my head in surprise, to see the exclaimation came from Fiona.
This needed to get shut down before someone got hurt. I deliberately stepped forward, hands still at my sides, holding Johns' gaze. He took an involuntarily step back.
I took a deep breath and let it out, the resulting sigh trying to express equal measures of disdain and dissapointment.
“It's late, I'm tired, and I don't have the energy to dig any more graves today. And we can't just leave bodies laying around, so the easiest thing will be for me to tie a rope around your ankles and drag you behind my Jeep, back to Carol's. I imagine she's the one that put you up to this. I think you're smarter and more reasonable than that.” I hoped the threat, tempered with the compliment would difflect the situation, giving Johns an out, letting it be Carol's idea, whether in fact it was or not.
The color drained out of Johns face. The two deputies licked their lips, mouths suddenly dry.
“No one else needs to get hurt here. Look, I know you're trying to do the right thing. I understand that. It's what you do. It's why you became a cop, right?”
He nodded. Good, I was getting through. I kept the gentle pressure up, seeing if I could turn this around.
“You know as well as I do that things are different now. That's why you haven't gone to work. It's a madhouse out there and you can do more good here at home.” I was helping with his rationalization, throwing him a lifeline. He kept nodding, indicating to me that he was buying it.
I gestured to the people behind me. “We're all just trying to get along under difficult circumstances. We aren't bothering anybody, but we won't let anyone else bother us.” now here was the important part, “You can understand that, can't you? If someone came to your house and threatened your family, what would you do?”
“I'd kill them.”
He looked at Fiona. “I don't recognize you. Are you visiting?”
“We just got here, we were supposed to start our contract as visiting nurses.” she stuck a thumb at Denise standing next to her.
“And you saw what happened here? You saw the shooting?”
“Yes sir. We all were. I was really frightened when I saw that angry group come up on us. I was starting to wonder if we were going to get hurt. And then that big man, Cannonier was it?” Johns nodded. “He went for his gun. He wouldn't listen to reason. Zed tried to work out a deal with him and the rest of the group, but they didn't want to here it. They just wanted to take what they wanted at gun point.”
Johns looked around and saw the mechanic.
“Daniels, isn't it?”
“Yes sir.” he seemed a bit embarrassed.
“Is that what happened?”
“Yes sir. Me and Will were in that group. Cannonier gathered us all together and got us all worked up, saying these people had food and were holding it back from us and we should make them give it to us.” Daniels hung his head as he finished.
“But, I just saw you sitting with them.”
“Yes sir, they gave us dinner. We helped them with some work and they fed us. Same deal Zed offered everyone. Cannorier didn't want to do no work though.”
Johns looked back at me, mystified. “These two were in the group that threatened you, yet you sat down to dinner with them? I would think you would want them arrested, or to do something to them.”
“I could tell they didn't really want to be there. They were desperate, so they made a mistake. They made a poor judgement. We all do it. No sense having hard feelings over it. They feel bad about it. That's enough.”
Johns dropped his hand off the butt of his pistol. “I can see that I didn't get the full story about what happened here.” The relief was plain, as a weight was lifted from his shoulders as he came to a decision that would let him live through the day.
“Sorry to have bothered you”
Time to be magnanimous, “No worries brother, I get it. You're in a tough spot. I'll tell you the same thing I told the other folks. We need to work together. Soon. Bad things are coming. We don't have much, but we're willing to trade what we have for what you need. You need to figure out what you have of value. All that maybe is your time working. Think about it. You know where to find me.”
I stuck out my hand. There was the briefest of pauses before Johns took it, but when he did, it was a good honest shake.

“I don't know about you, but I could use a drink.” Stan came out of the house with two bottles of what turned out to be a very decent Argentinian Malbec and enough glasses for everone. When everyone had one, he went back around and filled them, his last, which he then raised in a toast.
“To new friends”
“To new friends!” we chorused.

 

Great work, your writing and story line is in the Military term "outstanding". Every time you add chapter or too I have to gobble it up whole instead of savoring it. As they say in book form, I can't put it down. I hope you add a nautical theme ( fishing & pirates ) somewhere along the way. Keep up the good work, were waiting for more!!!

 

Just a thought....

As you read an episode...just give the 'like' button a hit as acknowledgement of your appreciation of the author's skill at story telling, and as appreciation for the author's generosity in making his creative work available free to Survival Monkey members and visitors to read.

It is a courtesy that the author would undoubtedly appreciate, and offer motivation for his continuing to keep posting.

 

Amazing work... Love the story already becoming one of my favorite shtf stories

 

DAY 10
Sadie and I got to Jacob's house at 7:30 the next morning. I wanted to get a jump on the day and be ready for whoever showed up to work. Stan was sitting on the front porch with a cup of coffee when we walked up.
“like a cup?”
“black”
Stan looked a question at me, but I waved him off. He went inside, returning a moment later with a steaming mug which he handed to Sadie.
She took an appreciative sip. “how was your first night in the new place?”
“It's always tough in a new place, getting used to a differnent bed, and the various sounds. And Jacob woke us once, yelling. He was back asleep by the time I checked in on him.”
“Poor kid” Sadie sympathized. “He's putting up a good front, but he's got to be torn up inside.”
I stared at the ground in front of my feet, not being a morning person, and not having anything to add to the discusion.
“So what do you have planned for today?” Stan intruded into my contemplation.
“Depends on who and how many show up. Defensive measures around this house first. Food second.”
“Yeah food's going to be an issue if we start feeding a bunch of other people.”
“I know. But it has to be done. Look at it as the food isn't food, it's money. We could just spend it until it's gone, or we can invest it and make more. Like any investment, it's a gamble. But its a calculated risk that we can manage somewhat.”
“That makes sense. I was going over what we have on hand from the restaurants. Sandy and I put together a spreadsheet on the laptop last night after everyone left. Figuring an average of twenty five hundred calories a day, we have around three hundred and fifty man/days of food.”
I looked at Sadie. Spreadsheets and organization were right up her alley. “We have a bit more than that.” She though for a moment. “I'll have to double check, but using your numbers, we probably have around four hundred, four fifty man/days as you call them.”
I did some rough calculations in my head. “Sounds like a lot, but that will feed twenty people for about a month. So that's our deadline. One month to get our investment to start paying off.” I sighed. The reality was pretty bleak.
“Maybe we should concentrate just on food?”
“No Stan, as important as it is, defense comes first. Think of those numbers in context of those people out there who have no food at this point. They'll be here looking soon that we expect.”
“Did you forget what happened yesterday?” Sadie said somewhat sharply. She realized it immediately. “I didn't mean to jump down your throat.”
“No worries. We're all stressed out. We'll all need to work on our patience”
“Stan, I'll get things organized when people show up, but then I'd like you to take over surpervising. I want to pay Mr. Charles a visit.”
“Sure. Just tell me what you want done and I'll make it happen.”
“Good man. I'll get the ball rolling and then hand it over to you.”

People started showing up a few minutes to eight. Doc got a big stupid grin on his face when he showed up and saw that Denise was there with Fiona. I talked to the three of them about setting up a treatment room in the spare bedroom of Jacob's house, the one that presently was an office. We had the things we had moved from Doc's office in town as a good basis to work from. Sadie and I could donate some more items, and I wanted to talk to the Johnsons soon. I'd been worrying about them and wanted to check on them, see if I could talk them into moving here. The items from their pharmacy would be a huge boost in our abilty to take care of any injuries or illnesses. A doctor, two nurses, and a stocked clinic would be wonderful to have, not just for our own use, but eventually we could open it to the outling areas as an income producer.


The three of them headed inside to start work. While I had been talking with them, Daniels, Will, and a half dozen other people were milling around. I welcomed them and started to tell them about what we had planned for the day when one of them interupted me.
“Where's the food? You said there would be food.”
“there will be. We'll provide lunch, and give you food to go home with at the end of the day.”
Will asked, “you're going to give us food to go with, not just feed us?”
“That's right. That way you can do what you want with it. Maybe you can stretch it into more meals, maybe you want to trade one thing for another. Maybe you want to trade your food for something else entirely. We're 'paying' you with food. You should be able to spend it anyway you want”
That brought some buzz as people started whispering to each other. They obviously hadn't thought of it in those terms. It made the prospect more attactive to them.

 

I walked around with Stan, making notes for him to use later. While there was a wide open area around most of the perimeter of the house, There were a couple of places where it came within twenty five yards. I wanted the bush cut back one hundred yards in every direction, except for the knoll directly behind the house.

Next was the road block. We identified a couple of abandoned cars at an empty house near by. I wasn't worried about them running just that the tires held air. Daniels headed up the team that would get them moved to the place I wanted the roadblock set up.

Seeing things progressing well, and that they would be able to manage without me for a couple of hours, I put on my pack, slung my AR, chamber checked both rifle and pistol, and headed up the road to visit with Mr. Charles.

I stopped after a few steps and turned back. I caught Jacob's eye and waved him over.
“What's up Zed?”
“Up for a short walk?”
“Sure”
“Grab your gear and let's go.”

Jacob ran back and grabbed his bow, quiver and the go bag we put together for him, struggling to put it on while he ran back to where I stood. I turned and continued walking as he reached me, and I explained to him what I needed done.


As usual, Charles was in his his garden when I arrived. We greeted each other warmly and chit-chatted a bit before I got down to the reason for my visit.

“You got time for a walk?”
“I suppose so. Where we going?”
“I wanted to got over to that plot of land down by me and get you to look at it from a grower's perspective. Jacob here is going to stay here to keep an eye on things.
“Sure. Let's go.” He pulled his hat off his head and wiped the sweat with a handkercheif from his back pocket. Settling his hat back on his head, he hitched up his belt, settling it on his hips, the pulled his revolver, opened the cylinder and closed it again, satisfied that it was still loaded before reholstering it again.
I couldn't supress my grin. “You sure need to make a lot of adjustments there old man.” I teased.
“No need to go off half cocked, youngster. Do things properly, and you don't need to do them again.”
“well come on then, unless you have something else needs adjusting?”
“I'll adjust you, if you don't show some respect.”
We both chuckled good naturedly as we headed off down the road.

“So whatcha think?” We stood on a high spot, overlooking the area where I thought we could grow some crops.
“Looks like it'll do. Whoever was working this before did most of the hard work for us already. It's terraced into easy to work plots. The grounds been cleared, and looks like they've already been growing some things.”
“Yeah, I know one of the partners involved. They just started it recently, in the last year. Anything useable here now?”
Charles slowly walked around the lot, with me in tow. He stopped here and there checking on this and that.
“Most of this is weeds. It'll have to be pulled. There is some herbs that are doing OK, Rosemary, thyme, and oregeno that I've seen so far.” He walked while he talked. “Hey! What's this!” He moved forward to a plot that had a series of rows of raised dirt, around a foot and a half tall, with leafy green plants growing on the top of them.
“Yes, yes, yes...” He dug into the side of one row and soon came up with a dirty lump. “You're in luck Zed!” he rubbed some more of the dirt off the object until it became plain that he was showing my a potato.
I looked around to see if anyone could see us. We were currently out of sight of any of the houses in the area. I continued to look all around, a full 360 degree scan.

 

“I guess that is a good find.” I sounded less than enthused.
“What? I thought you'd be happy? There's enough potatos to feed a bunch of people. And keep feeding them.”
“How long before someone else figures out this is here? How are we supposed to protect it?”
His smile dropped, his expresion falling with his mood.
“Sorry, didn't mean to be a Debbie Downer. This is good news. Great news in fact. It's just everything keeps piling up. One thing on top of another. It's just becoming a bit much to handle.”
“You can't do it all yourself, Zed. You've got people to help you. You're going to have to learn to let others help you. That's probably not easy for you, is it? You being all 'self sufficent' and such.”
“Guilt as charged. And I'm going to take your advice. Mr. Charles, you are now in charge of food production on this lot. I expect a report on what you need as far as resources and labor, how much food you can produce, and when it will be available. I'll be expecting that report tonight, right after dinner. You'll be eating with us I hope.”
“Me and my big mouth” he pulled a long face and rolled his shoulders as if the weight of the world was on them.
“Never let it be said that I'm unwilling to take advice. Especially from old folks that have been around a lot longer than me and have much more experience.”
He threw a haymaker cuff at my head which was easily dodged. “Old folks! Hmph!”
“Is that back of yours up to getting a few more of these potatos to bring back home?” the potato was better aimed than the cuff, glancing off my head.
“Don't know about my back, but my arm's just fine.”
“Didn't your mama tell you not to play with your food!”

We dug up a few pounds of potatos each, and cut some oregeno and rosemary, putting it in my pack to keep it out of sight.

“Please keep this to yourself at least until we can get the security situation sorted out. You heard what happened yesterday over food. I'd rather not have that happen again.”
Mr. Charles nodded his head. “I understand. You're talking to someone that has to keep an eye on his garden 24/7”

I collected Jacob at Mr Charles' house and we headed back to what I was rapidly coming to thing of as 'headquarters', Jacob's house. We passed the point where the road block was going, and both cars were there. Nearing the house, I noticed that all the bush had been cleared, leaving at least one hundred yards of open space all around.
Our timing was perfect, as everyone was sitting down to lunch as we walked up. I found Sadie and gave her a hug. “How'd it go?” she asked. By way of answer I swung my pack off my shoulder so it was between us. The smell of the herbs hit us as soon as I opened it up. I could see her starting to get excited. I shushed her before she could say anything and reached in, lifting a potato high enough for her to see it, while still keeping it in the pack.
“I'll tell you later.” I forestalled her questions. “Right now, I'm hungry.

After lunch I took the crew up to where I wanted the road block. With a lot of pushing and pulling, cussing and swearing, we set them up to form a chicane. We placed them sideways across the road so that a car could barely pass it, then it would have to turn sharply to get around the other. Driving through, you would describe an 'S' shape.

One car's rear bumper was in contact with the hill, the other's front bumper was overlapping the drop on the down hill side of the shoulder.

While the crew was putting the final touches on the car placement, I got the trunks open and found the tire irons. I went around loosening all the lug nuts. Cars in place I had everyone unscrew the lugs all the way. That done, the crew would lift up first one end of the car, then the other, while I pulled the wheels off. The car bodies were now sitting on the ground, making it difficult to move.

That was the easy part.