Mayberry's Prepper Networks

Do or Die

2011-12-26T16:45:00.001-08:00

Slowly the boat weaved its way through tight packed bay, and finally they came alongside Tropic Star. Happy greetings were exchanged between the crews, and congratulations to the Caribes for sinking the pirates and bringing their ship in safely. A cargo net dropped down to the boat to hoist their belongings, and one by one the Caribes climbed up Tropic Star’s side, Jack and Linda bade to go first in a place of honor. Tropic Star’s captain, a tall, wiry man with sandy hair and a deeply tanned, crinkled face held out his hand and greeted them warmly. “Thornbush’s the name, mate, Billy Thornbush” he said in his Australian accent.

“Jack” he replied. “We haven’t been much for exchanging last names amongst our little band. Maybe the less we know, the better?”

“Right you ah” said Billy. “They cahn’t wrestle from yoo what yoo don’t know! Right then… I’ll see yoo to yoh quotahs and then we’ll bring yoo up to dayte.”

The captain led Jack and Linda to a stateroom, followed by a crewman carrying their bags. He left them to get settled, and invited them to join him in the wheelhouse as soon as they were comfortable. The door had hardly latched before Linda jumped into Jack’s arms, kissing him deeply, almost violently…

An hour later they strode into the wheelhouse. The small Asian crewman who had been consulting with his captain on quartering the Caribes turned, gave a slight smile and a bow, then left.

“Jack, Linda, I trust yoh accommodations ah satisfactory?”

“Yes, very cozy” Jack said, letting a wry glance at Linda slip.

“Good, good” said Billy. “Let’s get right to it then. The fact is, we cahn’t stay. The playce is crawleeng weeth people, the hahbah is jam packed, and the goven’ment says they want us away. No room. So sorry.”

“That answers my first question; no point in going ashore then” said Jack. “Captain, have you-“

“Billy, mate. Cawl me Billy. Professional cuhtesy.”

“Billy- have you seen my boat? Has First Watch made it here?”

“Krikey, it escaped moi moind, mate. She’s toid up alongside! Everyone sayfe and sound. In fact, Willie and Peggy will be up foh dinnah this evening.”

“I’m relieved to hear that!” Jack exclaimed. “So, Billy… Do you have anything in mind? What to do next?”

“No, mate. Oi’m just a navigatah. The crew elected me captain, aftah the other officahs weh… Relocayted…”

“I’m sure Willie will have some intel for us, and his insight as well this evening. Thank you Billy, for your hospitality.”

“No worries, mate. See you bowth at seex ohn the mess deck.”

Jack walked out of the wheelhouse with Linda on his arm, and he spotted First Watch’s mast just barely poking up above a life boat hanging on its davits on the starboard side. They broke into a run across the deck to the starboard rail, and hailed the boat.

“Willie!”

“Jack! Damn I’m glad to see you! The pirates?”

“Sunk their asses.”

Willie’s eyes twinkled, but he asked no more. “We’ll see you later at dinner. Y’all run along and… rest up.”

Back in the stateroom, Jack could barely contain himself. “It seems we’ve a few hours to kill.” He shut and bolted the door, pulled Linda’s body against his, and began tearing her clothes off the second their lips met. She was equally aroused, and wasted no time undressing him as well. Their bodies writhed and undulated against each other as hands caressed those parts which most want to be caressed, and lips kissed that which is begging to be kissed. He pressed her up against the door, and she slid her supple, small foot up his leg and wrapped hers around him. Jack pulled her other leg up and around him, carried her across the cabin, then laid her on the bed and climbed atop her. Linda quickly threw him over on his back and mounted him. Their quivering, sweating bodies moved in time with the gentle rocking of the ship, and they both had to suppress their moans of absolute pleasure which would be heard through the thin door or the open portholes. A short pause, much filled with kissing and stroking of one another; then followed by another, longer, even more passionate bout…

Panting and spent, Jack looked at the watch on his wrist. He looked at Linda, smiled, and said “An hour left ‘til dinner.”

They walked onto the mess deck with five minutes to spare. The Captain, Willie, and Peggy stood up, beckoning them over to their table. Jack and Linda exchanged happy greetings, then everyone took their seats just as the cook and his mate brought several covered dishes to their table. The first was a wonderfully aromatic plate of grilled wahoo steaks, fresh and spiced to perfection, the fish having been caught earlier in the day from one of the ship’s boats out by the deep drop off just outside the bay. This was followed by steamed langosta, spiny lobsters which were fished up from beneath the ship’s keel by two Jamaican crew members who have dived for them since they were young. Next came a steaming bowl of local vegetables, tossed with steamed shrimp. Local bread and cheese followed, along with several bottles of wine from the ship’s provisions (which had been kept under lock and key these many months).

Leaning back in his chair and patting his stomach- which had not been so satisfactorily filled in so long as he could not remember- Jack’s mouth broke out into a wide grin, and he thanked his host heartily. As the plates were removed and another bottle of wine made its appearance, Captain Billy leaned across the table and queried “So, what’s next do yeh reckon?” to no one in particular, but casting an inquisitory glance toward towards Jack.

Much to Jack’s relief, Willie piped up with his take. “The way I see it, our best course of action is to man this ship as fully as we can from the folks here in the harbor who value their skin, take a few boats in tow, and sail south. Much as I hate to say it, we’re gonna have to sail around Cape Horn. Forget the Panama Canal, that’ll be sewn up tighter than a nun’s ass on Sunday. ‘Round the Horn, then into the South Pacific. I think that’s the only place we’ll be able to get the hell away from the government bastards, and this locust plague of humanity that has found its way here. Jack, your opinion?”

There was a long pause as Jack’s mind contemplated the journey southward. The equatorial doldrums they would surely encounter, perhaps leaving them adrift on the current for weeks. The horrendous accounts he’d read of sailing ships in the far southern latitudes, beating against westerly gales and mountainous seas to round the Horn of South America to reach the rich whaling grounds of Chile and Peru. Of the treacherous conditions encountered near the Tierra del Fuego (a misnomer if ever there was one), where wintery storms are the norm, and the great Brazil and Antarctic Circumpolar currents meet in tumultuous confluence. His total lack of practical experience in those waters, and his ignorance of seasonal variations in the local conditions down there caused him to waver. Being put on the spot, even though he expected it, still took him aback. But he composed his thoughts, and after drawing a deep breath, he began to speak.

“We will need to top off anything that will hold water or fuel. Caribe still has some of each, but not a lot. Maybe we can barter her for supplies from the locals? Either way, she isn’t seaworthy. Her foremast and most of her bowsprit are gone and her steering is jury rigged. We will need as much food as we can cram aboard. When we reach the teens in latitude, we’ll be at the mercy of the Brazilian inshore breezes and the current to cross the equator, and the same until the southern latitude teens. Give or take. And then we will enter the ‘roaring 40s’” Jack’s fingers held up in quotes, “where we will likely encounter monstrous seas and gale force, if not hurricane winds from the west which we’ll have to tack against to round Cape Horn. Then, if we survive, we’ll have thousands of miles of Pacific Ocean to cross. There are islands where we can take on water and some provisions, but they’re a long sail from the Horn. It will not be a pleasant passage.”

His companions were quiet for some time, digesting this information, and weighing it against their own desire to be free. After several minutes’ pause, having taken several sips from his wine glass, Captain Billy spoke up. “I’m game, mate.” Slowly the others around the table nodded their approval.

“We’ll have to put this to the crew” Jack solemnly stated. “They should know the hardship they are about to face, and decide for themselves whether or not they are willing to face death.”

Saying Good Bye

2011-12-17T14:08:00.001-08:00

“Land ho!” yelled the lookout from the main top. “Fine on the port bow!”

A greenish brown peak, crowned by whisps of cloud, rose from the sea on the horizon. The rising sun brought a moderate breeze along, and sails began to flash out and fill over what seemed the entire horizon. Caribe let fall her main course, followed by the main topsail. It was slow work, being so short of hands; but within an hour there were four square sails set, along with a trio of jib stay sails, and finally the spanker was set on it’s boom and gaff from the mizzen mast. The ship heeled to the moderate thrust, and her rigging began to sing as the breeze steadily freshened, humming and throbbing a living song which was transmitted through her hull.

Jack could not help himself from staring in awe at the glorious spread of canvas now painted orange by the morning sun. Linda came to his side and slid her hand under his arm, then rested her head on his shoulder. She too reveled in that breathtaking sight for a few moments before leading him aft.

“Breakfast is ready” she softly said with a slight smile, and a twinkle in her deep green eyes.

“I only wish we’d have time for dessert” he replied with a grin of his own.

Caribe rounded the point upon which Fort Amsterdam was perched, ancient cannon still bristling through the ports in the stone parapet high above the shimmering light blue water of Great Bay. Her sails boomed and flapped as the swirling wind was taken from them by the high peaks of the island, and they dropped anchor in water so clear that it could be easily seen some sixty feet down. Once again, the crew raced aloft to furl the sails so laboriously set just a few hours before. When the last was secured to its yard, Jack took advantage of his high perch to survey the mass of anchored vessels in the bay, keeping a keen eye out for First Watch.

The bay was so full of anchored vessels that most were obliged to set stern anchors as well, to keep from swinging into another boat as the tide ebbed and flowed. Caribe was further out into the offing, being as large as she was, and the forest of masts which covered the bay made it impossible to pick out individual boats. Some were rafted three or four abreast which made it even harder to pick out a single thirty foot boat. Even the Tropic Star’s hull was obscured by the multitude of boats that lay between the two ships, her tall masts blending in with the rest between her and the shore. It was only her pennant flying from the main mast that caught Jack’s eye, she being on the far side of the vast bay. So densely packed was the bay that Jack began to wonder if a boat could be threaded through the teeming mass to reach shore!

“Anchored fore ‘n aft, cap’um!” a voice hailed from the deck far below.

“Thank you, Duncan” Jack replied, then turned to the rat lines and descended to the deck himself.

Upon reaching it he was surrounded by questioning, troubled faces. “Oh hell” Jack thought to himself. “I haven’t got a clue what’s next, and these folks expect me to have an answer…” He looked at each of those expectant faces, Linda’s included. He could find no words.

After a moment’s reflection, Jack lifted his head high, looked everyone square in the eye once more, and with what meager confidence he could muster, began to speak.

“I want to thank you all… for your hard work. But most of all, for putting your faith in me. Y’all don’t know me from Adam, yet you trusted me to bring you safely… somewhere. I am truly humbled by that. Now, I think, by the looks in your faces, you want me to tell you what comes next. I am truly sorry to disappoint you, but I honestly don’t know. I don’t know how any man could. What I do know is that I have complete faith in all of you, and I know that y’all will meet any challenge that comes your way with the same confidence and resolve which each and every one of you have so… gallantly displayed over the last few days.”

Again, Jack looked each one in the eye as he formulated his next words. “I have no idea what lies ahead. But I do think, having seen all this around us” he said, waving his hand at the boats all around them, “That we will not be able to stay here for long. This island won’t support so many people as have gathered here; I have no doubt about that.”

Heads nodded in glum agreement as they swiveled about, taking in the scene.

“This ship, as good as she has been to us, is mortally wounded, I’m afraid. The foremast is gone, the steering jury rigged… I wouldn’t feel confident sailing her through a storm. There is no way to replace the mast, much less all the rigging we lost. I think the best we can do is to go aboard Tropic Star, and leave Caribe to her fate. There is nothing we can do for her, not here. And I wouldn’t risk a single life to take her somewhere that might be able to provide what’s needed to repair her, even if I could think of a way to pay for those repairs. Even if I knew we wouldn’t lose the ship to some gang of cutthroats regardless. So… I think it best that we all pack our belongings, lower a boat, and head for Tropic Star.”

Heads slowly nodded in reluctant approval. With a tear rolling down his cheek, Jerrick stepped forward and took Jack’s hand, shaking it slowly. “I t’ink wot you say is best, Cap’n. Pains me t’ say so, dis ship bein’ my ‘ome so long now… But it’s time t’ go.”

They lowered the boat, loaded with their baggage and all but two crewmen who worked the winches. Jack sat by the tiller, and couldn’t bear to watch the ship’s side pass slowly by as they were lowered down to the water. The winchers climbed down a rope ladder into the boat, then cast off the cables. The boat’s diesel tank had been pumped dry into the ship’s tanks long before, so the Caribes shipped the oars into the rowlocks and began to pull across Great Bay. Jack turned after a while, to take one last look at the ship as the boat glided smoothly across the low swell. Even disfigured, with the twisted stump of her foremast, mangled bowsprit, and crumpled bow plating, Caribe was still a beautiful ship. Though Jack had not been aboard for long, he still felt a twang of pain at having to desert such a fine vessel, and he felt for her long term hands who’s pain must surely be ten times that of his own.

The Armada

2011-12-06T13:35:00.001-08:00

“Cap’um” a soft voice whispered. Jack barely perceived that his shoulder was being gently shaken. “Cap’um, sir.”

“Wha…” Jack moaned, unwilling to be pulled from his deep sleep.

“Cap’um, there’s somethin’ ya need ta be seein’ on deck, sir.”

Jack swung a leg off the side of his bunk and slowly sat up, involuntarily stretching his arms high above his head. “I’ll be up in a minute” he croaked.

He walked out on deck, squinting and blinking, trying to see in the darkness. The sky was ablaze with stars, and after a few moments, he could make out the silhouette of the masts and sails.

“The weather’s cleared, sir” the voice said to him. A Scottish accent, Jack guessed.

“That’s good news” Jack said in a frog like voice, still not quite awake. “Is there something I can wet my whistle with?”

“Aye, cap’um. William! Go’n fetch the cap’um a mug ‘a sum’pn wet now!”

The sound of feet thumped across the deck, followed by the squeal of a water tight door being opened.

“I know you didn’t wake me to gaze at the stars…. Uh… What was your name?”

“Duncan, sir.”

“Duncan. What did you want me to see?”

“Why, cap’um, just you have a look around!”

Jack swiveled his head, still trying to blink sticky sleep from his eyes. He surveyed the starry night, 360 degrees all around, still not seeing whatever he was supposed to see. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that one of the “stars” was moving. Bobbing up and down on the swell. And then he saw another. And another. After he wiped the sleep from his eyes, he saw red and green lights bobbing up and down as well.

“Duncan, do we have any night binoculars?” Jack asked, after taking a long, grateful pull from the mug of coffee the crewman had brought him.

“Aye, sir. In th’ wheel house.”

They walked up the ladder and into the wheel house, and Jack scanned all around with the binoculars. “Shit! It’s a damned armada!” he cried.

“Aye! A bluidy great big ‘un too, cap’um!”

“But they’re… they’re all small boats. All sail too, as far as I can tell.”

“That’s me observation too, sir.”

“Wha… I wonder… What do you make of ‘em, Duncan?”

“I’m not for certain, but if I had ta venture a guess, sir, I’d say they was fleein’ ta Saint Martin. Same as we, sir.”

“You’ve seen no aggressive behavior by any of them?”

“Nay, sir. They be sailin’ a straight course. Come up on us right before I woke ya, then kinda split around us as ya kin see. We’re loafin’ a might slow, sir. Missin’ mast an’ all.”

“Well done, Duncan.” Jack replied. “Sharp eyes.”

“Thank ya kindly, cap’um.”

The wind dropped steadily throughout the rest of the night, slowing the huge fleet of sailboats, but favoring the tall ship, which could reach high above all those small sails and catch the undisturbed breeze. Caribe, overtaken at first by the armada, now kept pace with them. Jack had their running lights lit so the other boats could see them, and not run afoul of the ship. All the other boats had their running lights on, so “stealth” was out the window anyway.

Dawn broke, pink and hazy, and the wind had died almost completely. Caribe’s sails filled, flapped, hung limp, then filled again as the “cat’s paws” swirled about. It was enough to give her steerage, but not much more. About three knots, sometimes four if there was a long enough gust. The small boats surrounding the ship were having much the same experience, and those in the lee of the ship were all but becalmed; some even twirling about in the current. There was a rainbow of color out there as spinnakers flashed out from many boats, their skippers hoping those large, colorful sails might catch enough breeze to get them moving again. Puffs of diesel smoke dotted the fleet, and even the bluish white of outboards as some decided to burn precious fuel in order to get going.

“They’re sure determined to get away from something” Jack observed to the new helmsman, the watch having been changed among Caribe’s sparse crew.

“Dey sure am, cap’m” the coal black helmsman replied.

“And your name is?” Jack inquired, holding his hand out.

“Jerrick, sah” he replied, seizing Jack’s hand and pumping it briskly, bright white teeth gleaming in his dark face, eyes barely visible in the squint caused by a wide smile.

“Pleased to know you Jerrick. How long have you been aboard?”

“Five yeahs, sah. Been bos’un’s mate all dat time. And sometimes bah tendah” he said, still grinning.

Jack noticed the bandage wrapped around Jerrick’s left bicep, visible through his shirt sleeve. “You were wounded in the pirate boarding?” Jack asked.

“’Twas nothin’ but a scratch, sah” he said modestly, though Jack could tell it was much more than that by the way Jerrick favored the arm.

“Well you take care of it just the same” Jack said. “We don’t need to lose you to some damned infection.”

“I will do dat, sah. Miss Emily, de doctah, she fix me up good. Said de bullet pass clean t’rough. Missed all de important stuff mon! I mean sah.”

“We have a doctor aboard?” Jack said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, sah. Well, kinda a doctah. Miss Emily was goin’ to school to be a doctah. She ‘ired on ta be da ship’s nurse, to pay for more schoolin’. Before…”

“Right” Jack said. “Before. Well I’m glad to know we have her aboard. It’s a comfort, that’s for sure.

“Yes, sah. A comfo’t she is!”

“Steady as she goes, Jerrick” Jack said with a smile, and patted him on the shoulder as he turned toward the door.

The wind had failed them once again, and Caribe wallowed in the glassy swell. Hundreds of small boats surrounded the ship, all equally becalmed, bobbing lazily up and down. Those that had fuel were slowly motoring on, straight toward Saint Martin. Jack went below to start up the main engine once again, and sent the three crewmen on deck aloft to furl the sails. It took them two hours, even with Jack’s help after he’d gotten the main engine going. Many times he’d hoisted himself up First Watch’s mast in a bosun chair, but that was nothing compared to scaling the ratlines and scooting out on Caribe’s main topgallant yard arm, some one hundred and thirty feet above the deck. The huge deck, which then looked like a popsicle stick so far below. He resolved not to look down any more.

With the last sail finally secured, folded up to it’s yard and tied to it with the gasket, it was with great relief that Jack set his feet on the deck again. He called up to the wheel house for Jerrick to throttle up to half, now that the sails were all in.

“’Alf t’rottle, sah!” he answered, and the ship surged ahead once more.

Onward

2011-12-05T19:47:00.001-08:00

Thank you Michael for your subscription!

The Caribe was underway again. Her main mast standing rigging had been repaired, and some jury rigged forestays were erected from the stump of the bowsprit, and some deadeyes bolted through the deck, up to the main mast. The Caribes bent their spare jib sails to these stays, to aid in tacking the ship if nothing else. She loped along now, making six knots with her reduced sail, steering toward Saint Martin. Another day, maybe a day and a half away yet. There was nothing on the horizon to be seen, which was both a blessing and a curse to Jack.

He saw to the squaring away of the ship; their course set, sails trimmed, main engine shut down and secured to save what fuel remained… Jack scurried from aft to forward and back again, not settled in his mind until he surveyed everything twice. This heavy responsibility he’d never had before, and it was beginning to weigh on him something fierce. A big ship, a crew, no matter how small…

“Jack, you look tense” Linda said, studying him as she met him near the wheelhouse.

“This is a lot more than I’ve ever been charged with” he said, casting an anxious eye around once again. “It’s something very heavy, having so many look to me for leadership. I’m no leader.”

“I beg to differ” Linda cooed. “You’re a lot more than what you give yourself credit for.”

“What have I done?” Jack asked. “Willie was the one I looked to for guidance, once we all came together.”

“Yes, but Willie looked to you for backup. And for ideas. You can do this, Jack. I know you can.”

They walked into the wheelhouse. Jack looked at the compass, then went over to the chart which was spread out at the table. They were on course. “Helmsman” he hailed.

“Oui mon capitaine” the helmsman replied.

“How long have you been aboard?”

“S’ree years, mon capitaine.”

“And you’ve been helmsman in that time?”

“Oui monsieur. I ‘ave been wis’ ze deck crew seense I come aboard. Ze steering, ze raising an’ treeming of sails, ze mooring an’ anchoring… I ‘ave ze skeels at ze ‘elm, monsieur.”

“And what is your name, sir?” Jack inquired.

“Sebastiene, mon capitaine.”

“Very well, Sebastiene” Jack said. “Steady as she goes, and let me know if anything changes.”

“Oui mon capitaine.”

Jack led Linda below, to the captain’s cabin just below the wheelhouse. They sat for a moment on the wide berth, holding each other. Just a minute later, Jack’s head went slack on her shoulder and he began to snore quietly. She let him down gently onto the bunk, then carefully lifted his feet into it as well, and covered him with the blanket which was neatly folded at the foot. She stroked his hair gently for a moment, then took her ease on the wide settee next to the berth, and soon drifted off herself.

The Siege

2011-11-20T19:34:00.000-08:00

A boat was lowered down from the attacking ship, and a score of cutthroats piled into it, along with their captain. They motored alongside Caribe, and not expecting accommodations, threw a rope ladder with grapnels up over the bulwark. Several pirates swarmed up the ladder, pistols in their teeth, before the captain followed them up the side. One of Caribe’s crew spat on a pirate as he gained the deck, and the pirate put a bullet through the man’s head, spraying his brain and blood across the oak planks. In their horror, the rest of the crew drew back to the opposite rail. Only Jack and Vasiliy stood their ground, to face the invaders.

“I hope the rest of your crew shows proper respect” the pirate captain spewed in a venomous tone.

Jack and Vasiliy only glared as he gained the deck; neither commented, nor gave anything away by their stoic expressions.

“You’ve got our ship, you bastard. Name your terms and get this shit over with” Jack said, with no lack of venom himself.

“Ah, straight to the point are we?” the pirate captain hissed. “Good. I like things to be straight forward.”

Jack’s glare would have burned holes through that piratical bastard if there were any justice in the world. But the captain merely turned about to survey the deck, the masts, and the rigging. Once satisfied, he sent half a dozen of his men to scour the ship for whatever they might find. While they were heading below deck, the captain turned back to Jack and Vasiliy, and asked “Which of you is captain of this ship?”

Vasiliy answered “I am captain, you son of an infested yak!”

The pirate captain struck Vasiliy across his face with the butt of his pistol, then screamed “You will show me proper respect, prisoner!”

Vasiliy straightened, nose bleeding, then lunged at the pirate. He shoved the pistol into Vasiliy’s chest and pulled the trigger. For a moment, Vasiliy stood there with his hands around the pirate’s throat, a bewildered look on his broad face. Then his head flinched to one side, his grasp loosened, and he slid down the pirate’s body to lie limp on the deck. A pool of blood oozed out from beneath his twitching corpse.

“Would anyone else like to offer resistance?” the pirate growled, glaring first at Jack, then at the crew along the far bulwark. “I didn’t think so” he said after a long pause. “You” he directed at Jack. “You are second in command?”

Jack merely gave him a vicious look, but said nothing. The pirate raised his pistol to strike Jack as he did Vasiliy, but Jack lunged at his middle; down low like a linebacker set for a tackle. The pirate was driven against the rail with such force that the pistol flew from his hand into the sea. Seeing this, the Caribes rushed the other pirates on deck in a fit of inspired rebellion. The startled pirates were taken aback, and faltered in their surprise. Many were pummeled by whatever blunt objects were handy, their skulls beat in for good measure. Several shots rang out across the deck; some killing Caribe’s crew, some killing the pirates with their own captured weapons.

Then gunfire brought those pirates that had gone below back topside, and as the ship’s crew put down the last of the pirates on deck, the rest emerged in a hail of gunfire from the aft companionway. And then, to Jack’s horror, one of them shoved Linda on to the deck with a knife at her throat. She shot him a look of utter despair, then hardened her eyes into a look of defiance. As if to tell him “my life be damned, save the ship.”

Jack grabbed the still befuddled pirate captain by his hair and pulled him upright, a pocket knife pressing into his jugular. “If you God damned cockroaches want to see this piece of human shit live another day, you turn her loose!” A volley of shots rang out from the ship across the way, and Jack plunged the blade deep into the captain’s neck before flinging his body over the rail. More gunfire erupted from the pirate ship. Caribes and pirates both scattered for cover, and Jack took his chance in the confusion to make a dash for Linda, whose captor had ducked for cover. He kicked the knife from the rogue’s hand as he sent a fist into the bugger’s gaping jaw, then grabbed Linda’s arm and pulled her behind the bar which stood amidship. Having recovered a rifle one of the pirates dropped on deck in his haste to take cover, Jack returned fire on the ship, killing one of their crew on the first shot.

The Caribes used the opportunity to attack the remaining pirates on deck with whatever weapons they could find. Some crafty hand had made a giant Molotov Cocktail from a five gallon water container during the melee, and launched it on to the pirate ship’s deck with a makeshift “slingshot” hastily crafted from the bungee cords that secured the tarps over the lifeboats, strung out between the fore and mainmast pinrails. It struck the pirate ship and spread fire over the whole foredeck, which raised a cheer from the tall ship’s crew. Jack took that opportunity to send a dozen men below, to the steering compartment, there to heave what was left of the tiller hard over to port. To ram the pirate ship!

Jack ran down to the engine room himself, while the crew disposed of the remaining pirates. Through the open door to the steering compartment, he screamed “Hard to port!” over the growl of the generator and the rumble of the still idling main engine. He heard them grunt as they shoved the remnant of the tiller over, then Jack throttled the main engine up to full.

Caribe shuddered with the impact. Steel groaned against steel, and her rigging could be heard to snap down below. Jack ran up to the deck, and he saw Caribe’s bowsprit had stove the pirate ship right in her middle before it broke off. Some of the foremast shrouds and backstays had parted, as well as some of the main’s. As the ship ground down the other vessel’s side, opening a great gash in the rusted and thinned hull with the stub of her bowsprit, the foremast came down with a great crash, right across the pirate ship’s deck. The shock, weight, and leverage caused her to list hard to starboard, and the sea rushed in through the gaping hole. The ship began to settle in the increasing swell, and many pirates tried to climb across the mast to Caribe, only to be repelled back to their own ship, or into the sea.

Jack watched with grim satisfaction as the pirate’s ship dipped beneath the waves, and Caribe’s crew cut the last of the rigging from the foremast to let it slide down to the depths. Next, they tossed the pirates’ bodies which littered the deck overboard. When that grim task was done, they shuffled their way toward Jack, who stood holding Linda in the cover of the aft bulwark. They stood before him with questioning looks in their eyes, almost pleading for direction. He took this in, and considered for a moment. Vasiliy had been their leader until today, their captain. Now he was gone. Jack had been right by Vasiliy’s side since he came aboard, and the crew looked to him as second in command ever since his short stay began. He took in the scene as the last gush of air and debris rose from the sinking pirate ship, then addressed the crew.

“First thing’s first I guess, let’s give Vasiliy and the other dead a proper burial.”

They wrapped Vasiliy’s body in a sheet, weighted down with scrap metal that littered the deck, as well as four more Caribes who died in the bloody exchange. Jack said some solemn words over the dead, and after a long moment of silence, their bodies were committed to the deep. Jack then asked the crew if they chose him to command. No one said a word in protest as the crew all solemnly nodded their heads in agreement.

“Alright then” Jack said. “I need a repair party to the steering room.”

The Chase

2011-11-14T16:36:00.001-08:00

Jack walked into the wheel house, still wiping the rusty grime from his hands with a greasy rag, exchanging one form of filth for another. A look out the aft port holes showed the approaching ship now only six miles away, chugging blacker still as her crew drove their ship mercilessly in chase. “May I?” Jack inquired, pointing to the powerful binoculars which sat atop the chart table.

“Sure, sure” Vasiliy replied.

Jack picked them up and walked to the aft ports. He trained them on the pursuer and brought the ship into focus. “She is a warship. An old warship… Can’t see any markings. No flags.” Then, after a long pause he said “I don’t think she’s gaining on us anymore. If she is, it’s very little. Vasiliy, do you have a sextant?”

“Of course, of course! Let me find it.” He rustled through several drawers in the cabinets that made up the instrument console along the forward wheel house bulkhead, retrieved wooden box, and passed it to Jack. He took the sextant from it’s case, aimed it at the pursuing ship, and noted the elevation.

Jack noticed Vasiliy’s questioning look, and he explained; “I can tell if the ship is gaining by the elevation of her mast in relation to the horizon.”

“Ah!” Vasiliy cried, slapping his forehead. “The closer she gets, the taller she gets, no? This I should have known! I am durak, ha ha! Stupid!”

“Don’t beat yourself up, I only thought of it because I read about it in a novel” Jack consoled, with a wry grin.

Except for the fact they were under power, and possessed no cannon, the Caribe and her sister Tropic Star might have leapt from the pages of that seafaring novel read long ago. The tall ships were running wide open, making just under nine knots. Jack took another sight on the chase, and his heart dropped as he found they were gaining.

“How fast can we sail, if we had a wind?” Jack asked Vasiliy.

“Oh, I seen ten… no, eleven knots before. In the trade winds. But where they are…” Vasiliy shrugged his shoulders. “You think we can outsail that ship?”

“I think she’s giving all she’s got right now. Just shy of ten knots, tops. I think she’s hurt, maybe has an engine down. If only we had wind, I think we could lose her. Otherwise, she’ll be alongside in about six hours. Who knows what her firing range is.”

Not five minutes after those words were uttered, a puff of smoke came from the bows of their pursuer, followed by the whump of the report, and a splash fifty yards shy of Caribe’s stern. Not a large splash, Jack noted with a sort of relief. Maybe a three inch shell. But plenty big enough to do some serious damage none the less.

Vasiliy took over the helm from the watchman and altered course slightly to port. “We don’t want to be sitting ducks, no?” he said, grinning. “I was in Russian Navy many years ago. How you say? The old dog knows his tricks.”

“Close enough” Jack said as another shell splashed not ten yards to starboard, right where the ship would have been. He surveyed the horizon, then doubled back to look again to starboard. A solid bank of low, dark cloud was just barely visible, stretching the length of the westward sky. “Vasiliy, me might just get our wind. And then some.”

“Ah, yes!” Vasiliy exclaimed. “Do you think we…”

“Yes, I do” Jack said before Vasiliy could finish. With a wink, he spun the helm to starboard, heading straight for the approaching storm. Tropic Star altered course as well, but a bit more to southward, forcing their pursuers to choose one ship or the other. They fired two rounds; one at each ship, both missing their mark by fifty yards or more.

“Thank God their gun crew is not so good!” Vasiliy said with a chuckle. “And we hope practice does not make perfect, no?!”

The chase latched on to Caribe, which was the nearer of the two tall ships. On and on they zig zagged toward the darkening clouds, dodging rounds that came closer to their mark with each volley. The wind finally began to ruffle the sea’s oily slick surface, and streaks of lightning shot across the not too distant sky. Vasiliy gave the helm back to the watchman with instructions on when to zig or zag, then opened the wheelhouse door. “Time to set sail” he said, his eyes shining brighter than his grin.

“Let me know where I can be useful” Jack said.

Linda, who had been sitting quietly in the aft corner of the wheel house, stood up and said “I will help too.”

Jack smiled, and the trio went on deck to hoist sail with the rest of the crew.

Thunder rolled and lightning flashed just a few miles ahead as the Caribes bravely climbed into the rigging to set sail. Several more shots from the chase had landed perilously close to the ship, and in the back of Jack’s mind he feared they would finally find their aim. They were no more than four miles distant now, and they would certainly find their mark as the gap closed. The crew worked feverishly, and soon the deck began to heel as the wind filled Caribe’s sails. Another shot from the chase found it’s mark, and the ship’s hull rang with the impact. The crew cast nervous glances at each other, then redoubled their already Herculean efforts.

The first enormous drops of rain began to pelt the crew high aloft, and shortly thereafter the first good gust of wind hit them from the northwest. Almost simultaneously, a round from the chase holed the main course, then glanced off the steel foremast with a loud CLANG! With tremendous effort, the sparse crew managed to set courses and topsails as the ship heeled down, her leeward rail dipping into the increasing swell from time to time, sending sheets of green water down the deck. Suddenly, the ship gave a sickening lurch as another round from the chase struck home, and she sheared off of her course to windward. Instantly Jack raced down the ratlines as the helmsman ran out of the wheel house shouting “Bloody bastards shot away the steering!”

Jack followed Vasiliy down the engine room ladder and aft through a water tight door that led to the steering compartment. Vasiliy cursed in his native tongue something fierce as he held up a piece of the severed tiller, then threw it down to the deck in rage. “We are finished!” He yelled to Jack.

“We can rig something” Jack replied, his eyes searching the room. “We can rig something…”

“There is no time” Vasiliy lamented. “They will be on us before we can have steerage.” He kicked the remnants of the long steel tiller, still attached to the great cables that led to the helm, which was now completely useless.

“Are there any weapons aboard?” Jack asked, his mind searching for some solution.

“No” Vasiliy sulked. “This is cruise ship, not war ship. All we have are distress rockets, no more. We have no teeth, Jack. No teeth, no claws…”

The war ship drew alongside Caribe in the lightning streaked darkness, her guns leveled at the deck, and a crew of right cutthroats lining her rail, with a menagerie of small arms trained at the Caribe’s crew. Their captain appeared on deck and roared across the water above the din of flapping sails, wind, and sea, in English, surprisingly devoid of accent to Jack’s ear.

“Good evening, prisoners” he began. “You made a good run of it, but succumbed to our superior force, as was inevitable. But fear not, I hold no grudge against those who wish to preserve themselves, as I would wish to preserve myself.”

“What do you want from us?” Jack shouted.

“Why, your ship, of course! Surely you must know that fuel is rather hard to come by these days, do you not? As you nearly demonstrated, a sailing vessel has it’s advantages. Your flight led me to burn nearly half of our reserves in chase! Had my gunner not knocked away your rudder, I might have been forced to break off. But happily his lack of practice was superseded by good luck. Ammunition, especially that of the naval variety, is rarer than fuel you know. I despised the thought of burning rounds as well as fuel for what should have been an easy catch, but since we were so close I thought it worth the expense. How happy I am to have remained steadfast in my pursuit!

Vasiliy spat over the side and gave a murderous glare at the captain. “And what will you do with us?”

“Well, I suppose that is up to you. As I mentioned, I will have your ship. My force is superior; therefore you are at my mercy. I may find it in my heart to set you ashore some place appropriate, should you give me no trouble. And should you and your crew prove helpful, I may even allow you food and water.”

Jack’s blood began to boil, his hands clenched into fists, and his body began to tremble visibly. Vasiliy lay a calming hand on his shoulder, and quietly whispered “Easy, easy my friend. I know this kind of man. I know what he wants, and I know how far he will go.” Then, in a slightly louder whisper, he said “Linda, hide below.”

I Found It! Captain Jack Sails Again!

2011-11-11T14:28:00.001-08:00

Jack studied the black smudge on the eastern horizon through his binoculars. All they revealed was a somewhat closer, crisper black smudge, which Jack recognized as the smoke from the funnel of a vessel burning heavy oil for fuel. Which meant a large vessel. Quite possible a warship from some third world nation. At best, he figured, it could be some ancient merchant vessel now crewed by pirates. Either way he wanted to avoid them, and unconsciously started scratching the backstay in the ancient sailor’s tradition, to call up the wind.

“Caribe!” Jack’s powerful baritone called across the water. He saw one of the crew dart into the wheelhouse, and a moment later Vasiliy walked out on deck, stretching and scratching his belly.

“Ah yes Jack, good morning!”

“Do you see that smoke to the east?” Jack asked him, pointing his outstretched arm toward the smudge, which had grown somewhat larger, perhaps nearer.

Vasily raised his hand to shade his eyes and leaned out over the rail, squinting against the bright sun. “Ah yes. I see it! Looks like… Maybe smoke from a ship, yes?”

“That’s what I take it to be. Listen, Vasiliy… Let me come aboard and see if I can’t get your engine going. I want to stay well out of sight of that ship, and I think it’s coming this way. More or less.”

“Yes, yes… We do not want to be taken, after coming so far! Come! I will find lanterns for us to see down there.”

Jack started the little diesel and steered for Caribe’s port side. Linda came on deck, and with nothing more than a knowing glance she walked forward to retrieve the fenders from their rack. She made them fast to lifeline stanchions on the starboard side, then went forward again for the mooring lines. Jack brought First Watch smoothly alongside the ship, and two Caribes caught the lines tossed up to them and made them fast. Vasiliy lowered a rope ladder down the side, and Jack climbed up to Caribe’s deck. Vasiliy grabbed Jack’s hands to help him up, then wrapped him in an almost crushing bear hug, and pounded Jack’s back after releasing him.

“Welcome! Welcome aboard my friend!” said Vasiliy in a voice that could be heard a quarter mile away. “Come, I take you down into the bowels of the ship.”

They walked aft behind the bulwark from which Jack had seen Vasiliy come and go so often, through a water tight door that opened to a little vestibule; then through an elegant varnished mahogany door with a window in the top half. On into the passageway, lined with equally beautiful cabin doors to their left, and the ship’s hull to their right. They came to a thwartships passageway and turned left, passing several more windowed mahogany doors leading to ship’s offices. Half way down this passageway, they came to a solid mahogany door that opened to another little vestibule with a water tight door on the other side.

“The engine room.” Vasiliy said as he lit an oil lantern and passed it to Jack. He lit another for himself, then pulled the lever that opened the dogs, and thus the door.

Beyond the door was pitch blackness, save for that which the shimmering flames of their oil lamps could light. The smell of diesel and bilge water enveloped them, and the sounds of water lapping on the steel hull, with the occasional creak or groan. Vasiliy stepped down the steep ladder, one hand on the rail and the lantern held waist level in the other. Jack followed, carefully negotiating the narrow steps. At the bottom of the steps they found a door to their left.

“This is engineer’s office” Vasiliy offered. Jack opened the door and peered inside, holding out his lantern to view the tiny space, not much more than a walk in closet. It was lined with book shelves full of three ring binders, and a small desk sat against the bulkhead facing aft, which had a window looking out over the engine room. An instrument panel hung on the bulkhead to the right of the window, near the door, and several red lights were lit on it. Turning toward the engine room, Jack saw a maze of pipes and cable trays, breaker panels, motor control switchboxes, and what appeared to be the ship’s generators on either side of a railed opening in the deck right amidship. Another ladder descended from the forward end of the opening, about four feet in front of him, and from the aft end a pair of large insulated pipes rose from the depths, rising upward through the overhead.

“First thing’s first.” Jack said. “We need light down here.” He walked to the port side generator’s control panel and studied it with his lantern, then walked around the generator to look at all the piping connections. Outboard of the generator, right up against the ship’s hull, he found a fuel tank. A look at the sight glass and a rap with his knuckles proved the tank to be empty. So he crossed over to the starboard generator’s fuel tank. This one showed fuel in the sight glass, about a quarter full. Jack circled the generator, ensuring all the valves supplying fuel, cooling water and such were open. Then he faced the control panel, and after a slight hesitation, he pressed the start button. A loud metallic clank was quickly followed by a slow grinding sound. Then a clack, clack, clack, increasing in frequency until the generator roared up to full speed. The engine room reverberated with the generator’s grumbling roar, which rose half again as Jack closed the main breaker. The generator groaned as it took up the load, then recovered with a deeper bellow, the turbocharger whining in it’s high pitched wail.

The fluorescent lights in the overhead flickered to life, and Jack spied several pairs of earmuffs hanging from a pipe. He grabbed two, donning one and passing the other to Vasiliy. Jack had to yell to tell Vasiliy he was going back to the engineer’s office to look for any procedure manuals he might find, that would tell him how to refill the generator day tanks, and what needed to be running in order to start the main engine. Just as he found the manual, a large, coal black man in a white ship’s uniform filled the doorway. “Hey mon!” He shouted over the din. “Ya might be wantin’ to come on deck now!”

Jack cast an urgent glance at Vasiliy, and both hurried up the ladder to the main deck. The black smudge on the horizon was now hull up; a low, gray ship of moderate size, no doubt an old frigate or corvette belonging to some third world country. The black smoke coming from her funnel plumed with increased intensity, and the white of her bow wave could be seen with the naked eye. She was nine miles distant and coming up fast, on a course intended to cut off the Caribe and her sister ship, now only a hundred yards off the starboard bow.

“De generator, ‘im let out a cloud of black smoke when you started ‘im, mon.” said the black man. “An’ den de ship dere” he said, pointing at the approaching warship, “E turn to come for us, pourin’ on de coals!”

“Shit” said Jack. “Vasiliy, we gotta kick this pig into gear.” He ran to the rail and shouted down to Willie, who was now in First Watch’s cockpit, and Linda “Cut loose and get the hell outta here! Drop the hammer and run for Saint Martin. Run ‘til you’re out of fuel. Hopefully the wind will come up before then!”

“You’re not coming back aboard?” Linda asked, with a look of horror on her face.

“There’s no time” Jack responded. “I’ve got to get this engine going if the Caribe has a prayer. I can’t abandon these guys!”

“Then I’m coming with you!”

Before the words were out of her mouth, Linda sprang up the rope ladder. Then she cast off First Watch’s mooring lines once on the ship’s deck, and ran to Jack’s side.

“I… I couldn’t stand the thought of watching you leave me” she stuttered, staring down at her feet, suddenly embarrassed by her rash behavior. Jack pulled her close to him, and softly confided that the thought had torn at his very being as well. He was glad she did what she did.

They watched for a moment as Willie throttled up the little diesel and bore away for Saint Martin, waving and shouting wishes of good luck. A twinge of pain ran through Jack’s heart as he watched his boat and his now dear friends slip away southward, and he lingered by the rail for several minutes, waving good bye.

“Maybe we should get that engine started, no?” Vasiliy interjected.

“Yeah, let’s get ‘er going” Jack replied after a moment, and they walked aft toward the door.

Trying To Find "It"

2011-10-23T21:20:00.000-07:00

I have lost my inspiration for both stories. Try as I may, I just can't find the words within me to carry on.

I've been spending a lot of time aboard the HMS Surprise as of late (in my mind), at least trying to come up with something for Voyage to Liberty. Surprise is pictured below, though she lacks her Nelson chequer pattern (yellow band with black gun ports) as described in the novels.

A friend of mine gave me a couple books a few years ago from the series authored by Patrick O'Brian. They tell the tale of Captain Jack Aubrey, his friend Dr. Stephen Maturin, and their beloved ship Surprise. They are the basis for the movie Master and Commander with Russel Crowe.

I suppose that's where I came up with "Captain Jack", though I didn't make the association at the time. Anyway, I've read 15 out of 20 novels in the "Aubrey-Maturin" series looking for inspiration. I do admire Patrick O'Brian's attention to historical detail, "nautical correctness", and very exact attention to such things as the wind, tide, correct coordinates, etc. in his books, and that is something I've tried to match in Voyage to Liberty. I've spent countless hours pouring over navigational charts, weather maps, almanacs, personal accounts of the islands, cruisers' blogs, etc. to put forth an authentic tale, and I've been validated by folks who've actually sailed the waters I've described. But for all that, I've struck the proverbial reef as far as the story goes. Every time I try to write it just doesn't seem to work, for either story.

Reading as much as I have, Jack Aubrey hasn't helped me much either. Though I thoroughly enjoy that story line... Hopefully something will break this writer's block I've had for so long now. I think stress has been the major block. The kids' extracurricular activities will end soon, and those have been a big source of stress for me the last couple months, and the novels have been my escape. I hope in the next few weeks I will find my inspiration again. The words flowed from my fingertips without really thinking in the beginning. That's where I need to be again...

My Apologies

2011-08-28T17:43:00.000-07:00

I've written three installments to One this weekend, and trashed all three. They sucked. Boooooring.... Writer's block has struck me, and I can't seem to shake it. Didn't even try an installment on Voyage to Liberty, since that was the last I posted, and I was so confounded on the other story. I think I need a vacation from work, and a few days' fishing to clear my mind and recharge. My apologies folks, but it wasn't from a lack of trying. Hopefully I can come up with something worthy in the next week...

Becalmed

2011-08-22T21:56:00.000-07:00

Thank you Susan for your subscription!

Jack woke to the hot tropical sun streaming through the hatch. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, totally refreshed and alive. The barely perceptible motion of the boat told him all he needed to know about the night's events, as did the sun pouring straight down the bow hatch on what would otherwise be a southbound vessel. Jack snuck a grab at Linda's rear as she stirred their breakfast on the galley stove, then emerged on deck to find Willie snoozing in the still cockpit. The Caribe now lay off the port side, both vessels twirled about in the swirling current. All being secure to his satisfaction, Jack then mounted the gun'nel, crossed over the life lines, and plunged into the glossy sea. The noise roused Willie from his blissful slumber, and Jack laughed when he saw him at the life lines with a ring buoy at the ready. “I ain't drowning” he said, then dove down deep beneath First Watch. He surfaced on the other side, then dove down again, swimming deep, deep down into the cobalt blue.

When he surfaced again, the boat was twenty yards to the west from where he left it. As was the Caribe, who's stern now presented. Jack watched the shadowy form of a shark pass well beneath him as he hoisted himself back aboard. A large omelette of powdered eggs, Rotel, and diced mahi mahi awaited him, along with a mug of what remained of the coffee. A rather weak brew, but still plenty enough for the well rested Jack. Willie finished up and went below to continue his sleep while Jack fetched his binoculars, more out of habit than necessity.

In them, he saw the remnants of Caribe's crew- those who were not asleep below- moving lazily about the deck. He could see them without the binoculars, but with them he could see their faces in detail. A dark black man, probably from the Caribbean. A slight red-headed fellow, likely of Irish descent by the look of his clothes and the pipe that protruded from his teeth. A thick bodied woman- not obese, but stout; with dark hair and eyes, probably of eastern European lineage. An older fellow, with white hair and beard, looking much like a Greek, who walked with a limp.

He studied them for a bit, then turned his attention to the surrounding sea. Nothing... Nothing but empty, dead calm ocean surrounded them, as if they had crossed into the equatorial doldrums themselves. Barely a ripple marred the oily surface, and the deep blue was only occasionally broken by the shadow of a shark or a billfish taking refuge in First Watch's shadow, along with the remora and myriad small fishes that ply the open sea. A small pod of dolphins came by, made game of the fish that lay in the shadow, and even sent a wayward chub over the bows with a swat of a mighty tail. Jack couldn't help but laugh with delight at the spectacle; and Linda smiled with him, catching sight of his grin from down below.

On and on they drifted across a mirror sea, barely a hint of wind to be found. Once again, a vast mat of sargassum enveloped them. Linda delighted in the small sargassum crabs, shrimp, and seahorses she found beneath the floating weed, and Jack delighted in a lively thirty pound yellowfin tuna that took his cast-netted puffer fish bait. Over an hour after hooking the speedy brute, having chased it 'round the deck six times, Jack finally sunk the gaff into it's shoulder and brought it aboard. Several delicious meals it would make for the four of them, and Jack was grateful to have landed the fish. As were the Caribes, who landed several more themselves, sending out tremendous cheers for each one as it came aboard.

Though the species varied, the same routine carried for days. The ships (for the second was now almost in hailing distance) and First Watch continued on with their whirling about in the current. Further northward it carried them, out into the open Atlantic. Out toward danger...

Captain Jack Continued

2011-08-06T21:23:00.000-07:00

A grand meal they had aboard First Watch, set to the cheers of the Caribes as they hauled in their own dorado, fished out from beneath the great mats of sargassum that had come to envelop the vessels as they drifted. Peggy, being much relieved from her sea sickness by the calm, set to cooking the tender fish as soon as the cuts were handed down from the cockpit. The four of them ate hearty, and when the dishes were dry, Willie said he'd take the watch, and let Jack know if anything came up.

Gratefully, Jack went below to catch up on lost rest. He sprawled out on the berth, interlinked fingers beneath his head. The cabin door opened, and Linda walked in, closing it behind her. Without saying a word, she began to unbutton the shirt she wore. Jack lay there motionless, speechless; simply admiring her striking beauty as she silently disrobed. With even greater attention, he watched her as she bent over the bunk, her erect nipples brushing his legs as she crawled o. ver him. She paused to kiss his belly just above the waistband of his shorts, then slowly worked her way up his torso. Jack ran his fingers through her hair, flaming red in the sunlight coming through the open hatch. At last she reached his neck, softly dragging her bottom lip across his skin before finding a place to kiss. Jack's hands now stroked her back, causing her to arch with pleasure as she made her way to his ear.

Finally their lips met, and for what seemed like hours they kissed softly and deeply to the rhythm of the gentle swell. Jack's hand ran from her soft face, down her neck, across her shoulder, then down to her firm breast which hovered just above his chest. Linda shivered as he traced her breast with his finger, then ran his hand down her side to her waist...

Their bodies lay intertwined, glistening with sweat in the still air. Noses nearly touching, both gazing deeply into each others' eyes. Jack's thumb lightly traced her elegant jaw, then to her ear lobe and back again to her chin. She ran her fingers lightly up and down his breast bone while her foot stroked his calf. They lay there for half an hour until one finally spoke.

“Tell me about your life before” Linda softly whispered.

“I was a boat builder” Jack replied, equally soft. “I had a good business. Kept mostly to myself. On Friday nights I'd go to the neighborhood bar to meet my friends, and on the weekend I'd sail. Sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. I had a good life...”

He trailed off, obviously lost in some vision of his past. Several minutes went by before he spoke again. “What about you?”

“I was in school, studying to be a pharmacist.” she replied quietly. “One more year to go before...”

“Did you have anyone special?”

“No. Not really.”

“Pity, such a beautiful woman.”

She blushed, then said “Not that I didn't have my troop of suitors, but I was busy with my studies.”

“I bet you were. So how did you come to be at sea with our little band?”

“My uncle lived in Rockport. We were a close family, and when the roundups began, he sent for me to come with him and my aunt. We sailed away for the Keys... God, Jack, it seems so long ago.”

“It does. Like it was another life. It was another life.”

“What do you think will happen to us?”

“I wish I knew. I wish I knew where we could go in safety. If there is any safe place left, that is.”

Linda grasped him tightly, and there they lay, sleeping in each others' arms 'til sundown.

May 23, 2012

2011-08-06T19:49:00.000-07:00

11:30 P.M. We had a rough time today, having to clear nearly a mile of bridge to cross the river. Again, we saw the aircraft fly high overhead in the morning, and back again this afternoon. Same general direction as before. We halted our operation on the bridge as it flew over, hoping our truck blended in with the general chaos strung out across the span. The afternoon flight, however, may have noted the path cleared. No way to know for sure.

We dined this evening on a roasted piglet that had the misfortune to cross Kevin's path in the afternoon. We were set on a canned ham earlier, so this ham on the hoof was a welcome substitute. Larger pig tracks line the river bank nearby, so we're all keeping an eye out for them. Not so much for dinner, but for safety. I am intimately familiar with feral hogs from Texas, but I have no idea how long it would take domestic pigs to go feral. I will assume it doesn't take long when regular feeding stops, and act accordingly.

Kevin turned in early, leaving Josey and I to sit in our camp chairs by the shielded lantern. We had a long conversation about each other's backgrounds, and we ventured off into some intimate details as our wine loosened us up. I will not go into details here. Then she told me of some thoughts or visions that ran through her mind when she was delirious with fever, and how it pained her during her moments of consciousness that Kevin might wind up alone, after all they'd been through. She broke down and sobbed for the loss of her husband, which brought a tear to my eye for my own Jenny. Seeing this, she reached over and wiped my tears with her hand, which then paused warmly on my cheek as we gazed into each other's glistening eyes. After what seemed several minutes, we both slowly moved our faces closer to one another, and hesitated. Tossing all restraint aside, I moved in and kissed her.

I pulled back sharply, fearing I had gone too far, that I had ruined everything. But my fear was unfounded, because Josey's big brown eyes softened, she smiled, and wrapped her arms tightly around me. Then she planted a kiss square on my lips; a long, lingering kiss, and she ran her fingers through my hair, stroking gently. And that is as far as I will go here...

Becalmed

2011-07-30T19:52:00.000-07:00

The breeze dropped further still, and took to coming in irregular puffs before it died altogether. Dawn's first pink glow began to show through the hazy, cloud dappled sky, and the tall ship's sails drooped sadly in the still air. Scattered zephyrs rustled the dew dripping sails aboard First Watch, but provided no thrust. She lay there, bobbing in the diminishing swell some fifty yards from the ship's port quarter, surrounded by a glassy sea.

About a mile distant, the second ship could now be seen as well. Sails just as limp, becalmed in the eerily quiet, vast expanse of what looked just like a slightly wavy mirror. In fact, it was nearly impossible to discern the horizon. Sea and sky came together in a fuzzy, dream-like haze; both imitating the other exactly in appearance. It was not until the first sliver of the sun's red disc peeked above the plane that one could tell with certainty where it was.

Jack sipped his coffee, and ran his practiced eye along the ship's lines and rigging. She was a three masted square-rigger. Steel hull and masts, painted white and tan, respectively. She had the look of a clipper ship, such as the Cutty Sark, and was undoubtedly fast in capable hands. A beautiful ship, begging for the tradewinds and a competent crew. As her high, rounded stern slowly turned toward First Watch in the idle sea, Jack mouthed her name, Caribe, now visible in the soft morning light.

For nearly an hour, he took in Caribe's form. Her shape was trim and seaworthy, her rigging stout and efficient. And he knew there was no way that six men could work her. Sure, they could set sail eventually, but there was no way they could tack her in a channel, or make any maneuvers at all in short order. She was severely handicapped, and in eminent danger anywhere but the open sea. Surely she had engines, but even so, they could not reduce sail in time should it come on to blow. And then there was his suspicion that those left aboard had no notion of the engines, much less how much fuel was left aboard.

Linda brought Jack his breakfast, a powdered egg omelette filled with canned mixed vegetables, and covered in picante sauce. He ate it greedily as he kept his gaze on the ship, who's stern was now about twenty yards off of First Watch's starboard beam. When he'd mopped up the last of the picante with a slice of bread, Jack swallowed it down, cleared his throat, then hailed the ship.

“Ahoy Caribe.”

Silence was all that returned his call. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he hailed again. After some minutes had passed, Vasiliy's voice came over the water from Caribe's port bulwark.

“Hello!”

“Do you know how much fuel you have aboard?” Jack inquired.

“Good question! Engineer was one who left in boat. We have only deck crew left.”

“Nobody knows anything about the propulsion plant?”

“We sail, and see to the passengers. No engineers.”

“You do know that you are undermanned for any kind of maneuvering?”

“Yes, yes. Very short. We thought to anchor in cruise ship harbor and maybe, how you say, catch a lift ashore. The approach is wide, we swing wide around many miles, plenty of time to tack.”

“You're sure of this?”

“Yes, yes. Been there many times. No problem.”

Not wholly convinced, Jack nodded and waved, then turned toward the companionway and a much needed bunk. Linda kissed him before he turned in, and said she'd take the watch. He gave his respects to a much renewed Peggy, now almost human due to the calm, and then fell into his bunk, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Swimming in the realm that occupies the space between dream and consciousness, Jack had a vision of a blue marlin leaping gracefully, shaking it's massive head in an attempt to throw the hook which had lodged in it's gaping jaw. He could see clean through it's flared gills, right to the water from which it thrashed and danced in it's efforts to free itself. The scream of a reel, and triumphant whoops from those who fought the great fish dragged him from his slumber, and soon he found himself blinking against the bright sunlight as he ascended the companionway ladder. Peggy had an iron grip on a doubled over fishing rod, and Linda held the gaff against the gun'nel, through the life lines, in anticipation of landing their supper. Several hands lined Caribe's rail, taking in the excitement, but not necessarily concentrating on the fish. And then, not ten yards from First Watch's stern, the glorious yellow, blue, green, and purple polka-dotted bull dorado made a tremendous leap into the air, raising a cheer from the onlookers aboard the ship, and delighted squeals from the women engaged in the battle. The fish seemed to hang in mid-air much longer than physically possible, but it finally came down with a great splash, and the reel sang out again as the fish made another blazing run.

Though not quite played out, Linda made her lunge with the gaff (for fear of losing such a grand meal). With one graceful arcing motion, she brought the fish up, up, and over the life lines into the cockpit sole. There the fish began flailing wildly, flinging blood all around, it's vivid colors undulating along it's body, until Jack subdued it with his billy club. Smiles and laughter came from those in the cockpit, and a great cheer came from the men on the ship, who then hurried off for their own fishing poles.

May 22, 2012

2011-07-21T16:15:00.000-07:00

7:15 A.M. Kevin rushed inside to tell Josey and I that he saw it again. And this time, there is a contrail... I ran out to the clearing with my binoculars, but all I could see, once again, was a silvery glint high in the sky. But this time it was followed by a contrail, so we are now certain that it is an aircraft of some sort. Who's aircraft, and what they are doing are the burning questions.

We thought it best to keep to the side roads, and under trees as much as possible. It may be in vain, but it seems like the prudent thing to do. So now we unhitch the trailer and say good-bye to it's comfort. We must go into "stealth mode".

12:00 P.M. We saw it again, on it's apparent return. All three of us. I felt sort of silly afterward, but I quickly swerved off the road and under the cover of some trees. We watched it arch across the sky and disappear behind a mountain peak to the west. Noting the time, there doesn't appear to be any regularity to these flights. Which is something I could have wished for. All we can do is press on I guess, though I wonder if we shouldn't turn west to find where this airplane comes from. Of course, we may not like what we find... But not knowing is beginning to gnaw at me. For the time being though, it will be regarded as "unfriendly".

6:30 P.M. We've stopped for the evening along the Susquehanna's west bank. Kevin insisted on doing some fishing (he's been craving fresh fish for a while now), so off he went, and I stayed behind to set up camp. Josey, bless her heart, insisted on setting up her "kitchen" herself. She's coming along well, but her wound still pains her. Though she does her best not to show it; she occasionally lets a wince come across her face, or lets out a muffled "ooh" when we hit a good bump. Ever the trooper, she doesn't complain, and she refuses pain medication. Says it makes her too sleepy.

She insisted on helping me bring things down from the truck bed. I climbed up into it, and passed things to her from the tailgate. Balancing perfectly on her one leg, she received them and put them down on the ground. I set up the collapsible table we found at the surplus store. While I was doing that, Josey proceeded to cut a length of nylon cord, run it through the carry handle of the camp stove, put it around her neck, and carry it over on her crutches. I was simply struck with admiration for her. I guess I was smiling at her, because she stopped, smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and said "It works". I laughed and said it sure does.

Kevin came back with a pair of plump catfish which he then skinned and filleted, while Josey searched among the spices we have for the perfect ones to season the fish. A pasta and broccoli side dish from a pouch rounded out the wonderful meal. Kevin was right, some fresh fish was in order.

11:00 P.M. I'm sitting here by the light of a shaded oil lamp, sipping on some whiskey. About an hour ago, just before Josey turned in for the night (Kevin was already asleep, as he volunteered to stand watch after midnight), she came over to me and wrapped me in an embrace. With tears in her eyes, she thanked me for what I had done, and said she couldn't stand the thought of Kevin losing her after losing his father to the disease. I held her as she cried, and told her it was more her own will that pulled her through than anything I had done.

Something happened to me just then. Maybe it was the weight of our situation, or my own Captain Ahab like drive which kept me from recognizing it, but I suddenly felt something inside of me. For the first time, I noticed Josey's beauty. Maybe I was still clinging to the memory of my Jenny. Though it's only been a little over three months, it seems like a lifetime has passed since everything went to hell. I miss Jenny dearly, but to be honest, she seems like someone from another lifetime now.

Tonight, for the first time, I saw Josey not as someone who I'm simply trying to survive with. Tonight, I saw Josey. A beautiful woman. She is about five foot three, with shoulder length wavy brown hair that is invariably tied in a pony tail protruding from the back of her ball cap, which I've never seen her without by day. The most beautiful pair of dark brown eyes I have ever seen straddle a small, slightly turned up nose. Crow's feet emanate from the corners of her eyes, but I find them complimentary. Full lips are surrounded by a lovely squared jaw, and her teeth are straight and bright, except for one indented incisor on bottom right. She has a voluptuous, most feminine hourglass figure which can't be hidden by the surplus camouflage we now wear, nor is it diminished in any way by the loss of her left leg.

Even on crutches, she carries herself with a pride and grace unequaled in any woman I've ever known. And what a damned fool I've been for not noticing before now. Better late than never, I have a new appreciation for her. And maybe something more.

Out On A Limb

2011-07-13T16:20:00.000-07:00

“Why did you slow down for us?” Jack asked.

“We want to know who you are.”

“We're nobody” Jack replied. “Literally. We're.... former Americans. Just looking for someplace safe.”

“Ah.” the shadow said. “We're in same boat, ha ha! Men without country. Good. Good! You are armed, no? Sail with us to Saint Martin. We help each other. Is safer, no? We have no weapons, and your boat is very small. We go together.”

“What about the other ship.” Willie stated more than asked.

“Oh, same thing.” the dark figure answered. “They have eight men left. No weapons there too. They go ahead, to scout. I talk to them on radio before you come alongside. They will wait for us now, so we go together.”

“Explain to me why I should trust you” Willie said. “You're mutineers, not exactly trustworthy if you ask me.”

“We are like you.” the shadow said. “The officers, and some crew, they want to return to home countries. Many different countries, these crew. I am from Ukraine. Vasiliy is my name. I, and many others did not want to go home. The others, they try to force us. So we mutiny. Most go into lifeboats, some get killed. A few heroes, they pretend to mutiny, then try to take ship back. I think all have been stopped, but no way to be sure. So now we are six, when used to be sixteen.”

Jack looked at Willie in the dim moonlight, trying to catch some sign of what he might be thinking, but his stoney expression yielded no clue.

“Calculating” Jack said under his breath, but not quite low enough to go unheard.

Willie shot him a sideways glance, and just barely nodded his head, once. His gaze quickly turned back to the figure at the ship's rail. Then he turned to Jack, and said “It's your call captain.”

“What do you make of him?” Jack asked in a low voice.

“I wouldn't trust him any farther than I could throw him. But I don't think he has any ill intent. He's got nothing to gain.”

“I guess it couldn't hurt then. Hell, we're going to the same place anyway.”

Willie turned back to the shadowy figure. “Vasiliy, we will sail with you to Saint Martin. Under two conditions... One, you lead. We will follow on the windward side. If you so much as flinch, we're outta here. Two, no more radio. I want complete radio silence. Agreed?”

“Good. Good! Yes, agreed! Is much safer, you know? How you say, the more the merrier, no?”

“It can help. My name's Willie, and this is Jack. Let's get going, shall we?”

“Yes! We go!”

Vasiliy vanished behind the bulkhead once more as Jack eased First Watch just behind, and to windward of the ship. A few moments later, several figures appeared on the ship's deck, and Vasiliy's voice could be heard barking orders. They climbed into the rigging and began to set sails. Willie watched them with hawk-like intensity, his left hand resting on the rifle that lay on the cabin roof beside him.

An hour passed before the ship carried enough sail to make eight knots in the dropping breeze, and Jack was relieved to finally shake out the reef in his sail. The ship's crew descended the rat lines, then disappeared below deck. Willie's eyes had been locked on them for the duration, and his hand never left the rifle's stock. Now he relaxed a bit, though he still made it a point to scan the ship's deck every few seconds.

Rubbing her eyes, Linda appeared in the companionway.

“What's up? I felt the change in the boat's motion.” she said.

And then, blurry eyes cleared, she saw the ship next to them.

“What the hell?”

“We've got some new travel companions.” Jack said. “They're headed to Saint Martin.”

“Alright then! You boys need some coffee or something?”

“That would be nice.” said Jack. “It's been a long night, and it ain't over yet.”

May 21, 2012

2011-07-09T08:55:00.000-07:00

7:30 A.M. We were just about to get moving when something caught my eye. A flash of light in the sky, like sunlight reflecting off of glass or polished metal. I jumped out of the truck and ran to the trailer for my binoculars, but by the time I got them the flash was gone. Kevin saw it too, so I know I wasn't seeing things. It was at a very high altitude. There was no contrail. Looks like we'll have to keep watch on the sky as we travel...

1:00 P.M. The roads are becoming more congested as we travel further north. Twice this morning we had to detour around stretches that were completely impassable. I'm really glad we found this truck, it looks like we'll be needing it. The Scout would never have made it through some of the paths we took. That massive front bumper has come in very handy for shoving cars out of the way. We're coming up on another river crossing, the Susquehanna. Looking at the map, I think it would be wise to jog east a bit, and avoid Harrisburg. The bridges there are probably a mess.

2:45 P.M. We saw it again, all three of us. Very high up, sunlight reflecting off of glass or metal. Binoculars did nothing more than magnify the light, couldn't make out what the thing was. I think it must be a military aircraft, something they had hidden away somewhere safe from the solar flare that fried everything. Tucked away in some hangar under a mountain or something. We need to alter our strategy...

5:30 P.M. We parked the truck in a dense stand of trees near... whatever town this is, didn't bother to notice. What we did notice was a large military surplus store. We all got camo and several pair of boots. One of those camouflage nets, big enough to cover the truck. Some tools and knives. An army tent, and cots. As nice as the trailer is to have, it is now a liability. So is a fire engine red truck. The several gallons of olive drab paint we found will remedy that situation.

We're spending one last night here in the trailer as we transfer gear and supplies into the truck. No more open fires, we'll have to cook on the camp stove.

It's one thing to be on watch for someone on the ground, which we have been, but aircraft are an entirely different thing. Depending on what sort of electronic wizardry they have aboard, there may be no hiding from them. We're in a whole new ball game.

10:30 P.M. Been watching the sky, and the surrounding mountains since we finished painting the truck under the camo netting. None of us has seen anything, but we're all on edge. Kevin even painted Josey's aluminum crutches olive drab, for fear they might reflect sunlight and give us away, like the aircraft. Good thinking on his part...

While watching the sky I also pondered over what that airplane might be doing up there. Are they looking for people? What will they do if they find us? Will we wind up in another prison, like the one I escaped from? Maybe the biggest question: how many of them are there? And where are they? I won't be getting much sleep tonight.

May 20, 2012

2011-06-28T08:01:00.000-07:00

9:00 P.M. What a day. We spent nearly six hours trying to clear the bridge over the river. For some reason, bridges always seem to hold the worst traffic congestion. The winch on the front of our deuce and a half got a real workout today...

After moving about a half dozen cars and trucks, we had an eighteen wheeler strung out across both lanes. I released the trailer from the hitch and dragged it off to the side of the road. Then I just pushed the tractor with our truck, and finally had a clear path across the bridge.

After all that, we pulled in to a parking area near the base of the bridge, right along the river, to camp for the night. I helped Josey down from the cab and we headed for the camper. Once inside, she insisted on making dinner. I told her she should sit down, but she would have none of it. That woman has the fire in her belly, that's for sure.

While she went about making dinner, Kevin and I took a little stroll by the river. One striking thing we noticed is just how quickly mother nature is reclaiming the landscape. Vines are growing up the bridge columns. Nearby buildings are almost completely hidden by vegetation. Even the highway itself is becoming overgrown as plants take root in the cracks, and the shoulders slowly disappear under the overgrowth. Low hanging tree limbs are starting to be a problem, especially on the side roads.

We saw a few deer drinking from the river nearby, but we left them be. There is still plenty of beef left in the freezer for us, and not enough room to put up more meat. Some fish would be nice, but we have no poles or tackle. Something to keep an eye out for as we travel I suppose.

Josey whipped up a wonderful meal. She baked a loaf of bread, and a delicious beef stew. The bread was so good. Something none of us have had in a long, long time. After we ate, we went outside and built a fire. There was a few cold beers in the refrigerator, so we each had one. It almost felt like we were simply out on a camping excursion, and for the first time in a long while, we actually enjoyed ourselves. What a welcome treat. After all the hell we've been through, it's about time we had some enjoyment out of life. I hope we get more...

Ghost Ship

2011-06-18T20:14:00.001-07:00

Hours rolled by, with First Watch loping along at six knots, barely heeled as she glided through the moderate swell. The two specks remained at what appeared to be the same distance off the port bow, their course and speed nearly identical.

Willie emerged from the cabin and reported that Peggy was doing much better now, then offered to take the helm. Jack handed it over and went below, where he found Linda checking in on Peggy as she slept in the aft berth. He then went forward to the master cabin and sprawled out on the bunk. He watched intently as Linda came in as well, quietly closing the door behind her...

Jack woke with a start, caused by an insistent knocking on the cabin door. He rummaged through the tangle of sheets and clothes lying on the cabin sole, in search of his shorts and T-shirt. Still fumbling to get his arm through a sleeve, he ensured Linda was covered up, then opened the door.

“Jack, you need to come look at this” Willie said, then made for the companionway.

On deck, Jack was bewildered by what he saw. One of the sailing ships had reduced sail to bare steerage, and was now less than a mile away. He scanned for the other ship, but it couldn't be seen in the fading light of dusk.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think we should break out the rifles” Willie replied. “And stage them where they'll be handy if needed. But no cause for alarm just yet. These guys are taking great care not to do anything provocative. Slow and easy is their M.O. so far. But I'd be ready for anything just the same.”

Slowly the two vessels inched closer to one another as twilight faded into night. A sliver of a moon was already in the sky as the sunlight retreated, and countless stars took it's place. The few scraps of sail worn by the square rigger presented an eerie grayish hue in the dim glow, and the black silhouette of the hull and masts gave an almost ghostly quality to it. Linda must have thought so as well, Jack mused, for she came up on deck, giving a visible shudder when her eyes fell upon the scene.

With a quarter mile now lying between the vessels, Jack suddenly recalled something from a novel he'd read, specifically about a naval battle between tall ships. The main character, an English frigate's captain, was locked in a dance of strategic maneuvering with an enemy vessel. His goal was to gain the “weather gauge”, or in other words, to position himself upwind of his adversary, which would give him the distinct advantage of being able to run downwind to attack versus beating upwind. And also left the option of speeding away open, should he find himself out-gunned.

Their current course would put them under the square rigger's lee, stealing the wind from First Watch's sails and leaving them dead in the water. Jack relayed all this to Willie, who then agreed they should very slowly alter their course to cross the ship's stern to windward. This they did, very slowly, very cautiously. About one hundred yards from the sailing ship, they had gained the weather gauge. Jack reduced sail to the second reef, which set First Watch's pace to just slightly faster than the ship. Willie studied the vessel through his binoculars as they crossed her wake, slowly scanning from stern to bow in the dim moonlight.

“Not a soul on deck” he said as he lowered the binoculars. “No guns, as far as I can tell. Looks to me like a cruise ship. Lots of deck chairs, and what looks like a bar about mid-ship. There, under that canvas shade.” he said, pointing just aft of the main mast.

Jack eased the helm to starboard, to bring them alongside the ghostly ship. When they were twenty yards off her port beam, they heard a voice shout from across the water.

“Ahoy there” the voice said, in a very thick, very drunk accent that Jack couldn't quite place.

“Ahoy” Jack replied. “We mean no harm.”

“That's good” the voice answered back. “We have no weapons.”

To Jack, the voice was beginning to sound eastern European now, possibly Russian.

“Where are you headed?” Jack inquired.

A shadowy figure appeared at the ship's rail, having stepped out from behind the high bulwark which shielded a door leading into the ship's interior.

“Saint Martin, we think” said the shadowy figure, the voice's owner. “Depends on crew not killing each other. Much fighting here. How you say.... Mutiny? Only six left now.”

Jack looked at Willie, trying to gain a sense of what he might be thinking. But Willie just stood there, stone faced, listening.

May 19, 2012

2011-06-13T10:02:00.000-07:00

Thank you Alan for your subscription!

10:45 P.M. It was a long, hard day... We got rolling around 8 A.M., and were moving along well enough through the scattered dead vehicles. The scenery here near the Shenandoah park is breathtaking. And the terrain is hell on the old Scout. Twice she over-heated on us during a long uphill pull. Which required us to stop and let the engine cool while Kevin or I trudged off looking for water or anti-freeze. It wasn't too hard to find, we both wound up simply draining it from one of the many derelict vehicles along the road into a couple gallon plastic jugs. But that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst came when the rear universal joint decided that it had enough. On the downhill run, of course. Thank God that Scout has disc brakes on the front, if they were drums we'd be dead. With no engine braking, and the weight of the trailer and all our gear pushing on us, it was all those brakes could do to keep us from flying off the road, or worse, smashing into a vehicle. When we finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, the rear brakes were smoking, and the front discs had turned blue-ish black. No doubt they were glowing cherry red as we came down that hill.

After catching our breath, and some discussion, the three of us decided that it might be best if we find another vehicle. So I dropped the trailer, gave a look under the Scout to make sure nothing critical had been damaged when the drive shaft made it's hasty exit, put it in four wheel drive, and off we went.

Several hours later we'd found our new ride. And what a ride it is! At a small volunteer fire department in Harper's Ferry, we found an old Army deuce-and-a-half which had been converted into a tanker truck. After about an hour we had the pump and tank removed (threw some fire hoses around the tank, tied to a phone pole, and drove the truck out from underneath!). We scavenged a good, heavy tarp from the fire department, and some PVC pipe from a local hardware store to make a cover for the bed. Fortunately someone had already rigged up a 2 inch hitch receiver on this beast, so then it was back to the highway to pick up the trailer.

The truck rides like a buck board. It's noisy. And it spews black smoke when the throttle is open. But I have no doubt that it will get us wherever we want to go. Plus, I find that our fuel options are much wider now. The book I found under the driver seat says it will burn diesel, kerosene, jet fuel, fuel oil, or gasoline with one quart engine oil per 15 gallons added. I'm sure all the gasoline left is probably bad by now, but I know there's plenty of fuel oil as we head further north.

May 18, 2012

2011-06-03T18:59:00.000-07:00

Thank you Edna for your subscription!

12:30 P.M. We got moving this morning. Kevin and I got Josey up and about on crutches, which she mastered pretty quickly. After a good breakfast of veal steaks and powdered egg omelettes with canned peppers and dried onions, we helped her into the Scout. It felt good to be moving again.

I took it easy while traveling, so as not to cause her any more pain than she is already dealing with. She did wince a couple times on some hard bumps, but she never complained. At 11:30 I stopped, to give her a break and to make lunch. Kevin the "chef" sliced up more veal from the refrigerator and browned it, along with more peppers and onions, plus some canned veggies. A kind of "survival stir-fry", which was delicious.

We've decided to rest a while, even though Josey claimed she is "just fine" and ready to roll. Bless that woman, she's tough as nails...

5:45 P.M. We didn't cover a lot of ground today, but we did at least make some progress. I stopped at 4 P.M. so that we'd have plenty of time to prepare a good meal, because that's what Josey needs right now. She needs it to heal and regain her strength. Though she puts on a good show, Kevin and I know she's still pretty weak. Which is to be expected, given the horrific ordeal she's gone through.

I changed the dressing on her wound, which is looking pretty good, thank God. The redness is fading, the swelling has gone down, and the oozing has nearly stopped. Soon I'll be able to remove the stitches, and hopefully I'll be able to fashion some sort of peg leg for her. With a little luck, she'll be standing tall again. I hope so.

Kevin got a nice fire going, and we're going to roast a large piece of veal for supper. We stopped at a small roadside restaurant for the night, and found a treasure trove of canned goodies which had not been pillaged when things went to hell. The remoteness of this former roadside greasy spoon kept it intact, for the most part. It was broken into, but not much was taken. Must have been a small group that came across it before they were taken by the disease.

We scored some spices, BBQ sauce, canned beans, peppers, olive oil, salt, and black pepper corns and grinders. The biggest find though was flour, baking soda, and sugar in sealed buckets. We haven't had bread at all since we found each other, but now we have the makings of it. This will be a special treat for us...

10:00 P.M. Our bellies are full. And we even had a little beer from a case I found in the restaurant's store room. The rest I packed into the trailer's storage area, save for three which I put in the 'fridge for later.

Josey is sound asleep after I gave her another round of morphine and antibiotic. Kevin and I are enjoying a couple cigars from the humidor we found in the restaurant owner's office. There's still a nice fire burning, and things are looking up for us right now. There's a delivery truck out back with a fair amount of diesel which we'll utilize to top off our fuel tank before we leave tomorrow.

On fuel: I've been thinking about that a lot lately. Soon most of what we find will have gone bad. What then? I know we can burn cooking oil and such, which should keep much longer, being in sealed containers. And we've found plenty of it in stores that have been stripped of everything else. But I wonder what might happen if we get caught somewhere that's not got a supply of it. As we approach the northeast, there's more stores and such, but there's also more vehicles piled up on the roads. Which makes the going slower, and consumes more fuel. Soon, I think, we'll run into sections of highway that are completely impassible. Totally blocked by derelicts that died when the CME fried their electronic brains. Unfortunately, many drivers coasted to the shoulders when their vehicles died, leaving vast stretches near the cities impassible. Though I've avoided major cities as much as possible, the further north we press the more cities we'll encounter.

I don't know why I'm drawn northward, but it just seems right. Maybe the disease can't proliferate in a colder climate. Maybe there's more survivors up there. I don't know for sure. But I do know that I am driven from deep inside to continue north along the east coast. Straight into the heart of the most dense population. Or former population. Which will make for difficult travel at best. At worst, well I hesitate to think about that.

More Captain Jack

2011-05-30T14:30:00.000-07:00

He woke with a start, as a flying fish slapped the side of his head before landing in his lap. Linda laughed as he fumbled with the wriggling creature, which he finally managed to toss overboard.

“About noon is it?” Jack asked as he wiped his hands on his shirt, noting the sun's position, and the growling of his stomach.

Looking at her wrist watch, Linda replied. “Ten after twelve to be exact. You sound hungry.”

“I feel hungry.”

“You drive, and I'll see about lunch.”

Jack took the helm, and Linda planted her warm, soft lips on his cheek before she turned for the cabin.

The wind had dropped to a more reasonable twenty knots, so Jack lashed the helm. He shook out the reef and sent the main sail fully aloft, then sheeted it in again. First Watch heeled harder to her starboard with the additional thrust, and soon her pace was back up to nearly ten knots, with a satisfying wake emanating from her stern. Not just the turbulent boil that was there before, but an honest V wake, frothing and white. One that gave a real feeling of speed. Like flying on the water. The sounds of the rigging in the wind, the hull working, and the water as it splashed and hissed was like the greatest symphony ever written to Jack's ears. He reveled in it, as a child revels in his first success at something new. It was pure joy.

Linda came topside again with her arms full of bowls and cups. She braced her left foot against the heel of the boat in the corner formed by the confluence of the cockpit sole and the base of the bench seat as she walked aft, timing her steps to coincide with the brief moments between the rise and fall of the boat beneath her. Jack watched her intently as she moved in rhythm with the waves, smiling both inside and out.

“My, but you've a lovely pair of sea legs” he said, still grinning.

She planted her bottom on the seat next to Jack, in perfect time with it's rise toward her. He took his bowl full of beans and weenies and cup of water from her and began eating greedily.

“I've got red beans and rice going for dinner, if you can keep the boat off it's side long enough” Linda quipped, only half joking.

“I'll try to keep the shiny side up” Jack mumbled with a smile and a mouth full. When he swallowed, he asked “Willie and Peggy okay?”

“Willie is up. He's cleaning up a bit. Peggy, well..... She's not feeling too good”

“Sea sick?”

“Yep. She's used to pitching and rolling, but I guess heeling was the last straw” Linda said with a chuckle.

“Well hell, I guess I can ease up on her a bit.”

Jack eased off the main sheet and the boat stood a bit more upright, though at a loss of two knots in speed. He sat back down next to Linda as the boat settled into it's slower pace, and put his arm around her. She began to rub his shin with her bare foot as they leisurely cruised along.

Willie emerged from the cabin a few minutes later with a bucket, which he discreetly emptied over the leeward rail.

“Thanks for backing off a bit Jack” Willie said. “Peggy never was really comfortable on a sailboat. She could handle the trawler though, since it didn't heel. Throws her balance off I guess, heeling.”

“I'll take it easy on her.” Jack replied. “We're far enough out and away now that I'm not too terribly worried.”

Willie nodded. He turned his gaze forward as he started back down into the cabin, and Linda took the opportunity to resume her foot rubbing while stealing a kiss.

“Hey Jack?” said Willie.

“Yeah?”

“While you two were playing footsie, did you happen to notice the boats on the port bow?”

“Wha...” Jack cut himself off as he leapt for his binoculars. Scanning the port quarter, he finally spotted two tiny dots on the horizon, while wondering in amazement at Willie's visual acuity. He trained his binoculars on the distant smudges, and was amazed to see two tall ships. Square rigged sailing ships, heading on a parallel course as far as he could tell.

“Willie, you won't believe this” Jack said. “It's a pair of square riggers!”

“Interesting” was Willie's only response.

“What do you think we should do?” Jack asked him.

“Just keep an eye on 'em” Willie replied. “I wouldn't do anything different.”

With that, he went below. Linda reached for the binoculars, which Jack gave to her. She peered intently toward the two tiny specks, and shook her head in amazement.

“I didn't know those things even existed anymore” she said.

“Oh, there's a few of them left” Jack responded. “But what a pair of 'em is doing way the hell down here is beyond me.”

He turned his attention back to steering his course, but one eye was kept on those two distant ships from then on.

The Voyage Continues

2011-05-28T13:44:00.000-07:00

Thank you Tanya for your subscription!

Howling wind and driving rain besieged the sodden pair as they fought to steer their course through angry seas. Huge waves shoved the bow aside, causing Jack to clap the rudder hard over to bring the boat back on course. Willie worked the winches that pulled the storm jib sheets, madly hopping from side to side as the fickle gale changed directions. At times he had to spill the wind entirely, to prevent the boat from foundering when a wave shoved her broadside to the sea.

Jack had thought of heaving to, but he wanted to put as much water between his boat and the island as possible under the cover which the storm provided. So he pressed onward, in spite of the stinging spray, the wild pitching and rolling that threatened to toss him overboard, and the potential for damage to the boat.

Willie was a remarkable seaman, Jack thought to himself. Not a word passed between them as the pair worked the boat, but they could read each other, and the sea almost as one mind. A knowing glance was all the communication required, as each man knew what the other was thinking. Which was just as well, the howl of the wind in the rigging would have carried away any words before ear could receive them.

Within an hour the rain began to taper off and the low, dark clouds began to break up. The wind steadied and settled into a generally east-northeasterly direction, though it still blew at a steady thirty knots, gusting to thirty-five and more. Willie was finally able to sheet in the storm jib and leave it. He even raised the main to the second reef, after Jack's approving nod. The speed piled on as the main was sheeted home, and the sea hissed down the sides as they sped along at nearly ten knots. Great volumes of water rose into the air as the bow cleaved the waves, and came rushing down the deck on it's course back to the ocean.

Jack drew his rain coat tight around him, in a vain attempt to ward off the damp chill that followed the storm front's passage. He steeled himself to the long, long passage that lie ahead. Nearly six hundred miles of open sea separated them from their next landfall, the island of St. Martin. Jack chose this island because it was under French and Dutch control. As far as he knew...

The sun finally peeked over the horizon, painting the clouds red and pink. Rays of light beamed from between them. It was a beautiful sight to a weary Jack, and Willie seemed to admire it as well from his reclined position, sprawled across the cockpit benches.

The sliding hatch over the companionway opened, and Peggy's gray streaked auburn hair soon rose above the drop boards, followed by her tired, yet smiling face as she climbed the next step of the companionway ladder.

“You boys look like you could use a cuppa joe” she said in her soft Texas drawl.

“That we could” Willie replied. “That we could”.

“Yes ma'am” said Jack. “A shot of hootch wouldn't hurt either.”

Peggy grinned and winked, then bobbed back down the steps.

“About four days I reckon” Willie said.

“Thereabouts” Jack replied. “If the wind holds out.”

They sat in exhausted silence until Peggy reappeared with two insulated mugs. Jack sipped from his mug, and smiled when he tasted the hint of whiskey.

Linda pulled the drop boards from the companionway, stowed them, then climbed up on deck.

“Relieve the watch?” Jack asked with a wry grin.

“In your dreams sailor boy” she shot back with a smile. “But I will take the helm for a spell.”

Jack layed back against the coaming as she took the wheel, and closed his burning eyes. To the sounds of the water and Willie's soft snoring, he drifted off to sleep.

May 17, 2012

2011-05-27T19:56:00.000-07:00

6:30 A.M. Josey woke for the first time since the accident completely coherent and without fever. She's in good spirits, considering. I fixed us some breakfast while Kevin was out looking for some "protein on the hoof", then tended to her dressings. The wound is healing very nicely, much to my relief. I gave her another round of pain relief and antibiotic, and she soon fell asleep. But not before asking me to come close, and wrapping her arms around me while planting a long kiss on my lips...

10:00 A.M. When I said "protein on the hoof" I'd no idea it was prophetic! Kevin bagged a calf. He dragged it half way back to the trailer before dropping it and returning for my help. Being from the "work smarter, not harder" camp, I suggested we pile into the Scout and retrieve the calf with a little mechanical assistance.

1:30 P.M. We got calf... The 'fridge and freezer are packed full of veal, which is more than a good thing. What wouldn't fit, we tossed into a makeshift smoker which is puffing away as I write. What wouldn't fit in the smoker, we dragged off into the woods for the dogs to gnaw on. That should keep them occupied for a few days, until Josey is well enough to travel a bit.Which should be very soon. She was up again half an hour ago; hungry, thirsty, bright eyed, and bushy tailed.

10:15 P.M. Josey is doing very well. She absolutely devoured a good sized veal steak, canned veggies, and some cornbread from a pouch. She drank more water than she'd had in the last five days combined. Which led to a new "problem". She had to go...

Carefully I sat her up, then sat down beside her. I put her arm around me, and Kevin took her other arm. We picked her up and carried her the short distance to the rest room door. It isn't wide enough for all of us to pass through, so I left Kevin to help her the rest of the way.

Without getting into too much detail, everything came out okay. Which was a great relief. Puns absolutely intended! It sure feels good to be able to joke a bit about what has been the most nerve wracking experience of my life, one which I never wish to repeat.

Tomorrow it looks like we'll be able to move on a bit. Though slowly, I'm sure Josey won't be able to handle too many hard bumps. I've had a broken leg before, and I remember the pain from bouncing down old country roads on the way to a doctor appointment. I can only imagine Josey's pain is much worse...

Don't miss this little bit I posted below:

http://mayberryspreppernetworks.blogspot.com/2011/05/little-something-different_27.html

I Completely Forgot About This Short Story

2011-05-27T18:55:00.000-07:00

Hell, I was entertained by reading it : )

http://mayberry-keepitsimplestupid.blogspot.com/2010/12/short-story.html

Follow Via E-mail

2011-05-27T18:42:00.000-07:00

For some reason I never thought to add e-mail subscription... DUH! Well it's here now, right there on the sidebar. Now you won't have to keep checking in for new posts, an e-mail will be sent to notify you if you sign up. I'm slow, but I get there eventually, with a little help from my friends : )

A Little Something Different

2011-05-27T17:04:00.000-07:00

Pete, thank you for your subscription!

Here's a little something different. It struck me as I was mulling over Captain Jack's next installment...

Soul Upon the Sea

It is a bent and tortured soul
Who stands along the shore
Staring out across the sea
But wanting something more

A heaving hull with wind in sail
Afloat upon the tide
Serenity and inner peace
Such articles provide

A bearing plucked from heart's delight
And plotted on the chart
Sets the course for Freedom's Keep
And longing to depart

Within the mind, the vessel plies
Through stormy froth and rain
Riding high on raging sea
Safe harbor to attain

For now the body stands ashore
Fixed with what might be
But in the offing, there resides
A soul upon the sea

May 16, 2012

2011-05-20T16:37:00.000-07:00

A big thank you to Henry and William for your subscriptions!

5:30 A.M. I've been up for an hour. Josey continues to do pretty well, just a mild fever. The antibiotics are doing their thing, especially since the raging infection was cut away. I never would have thought I could do such a thing, but as they say, "necessity is the mother of invention". Yesterday I was just a simple man, and today I'm a surgeon. May I never have to repeat the experience so long as I live...

8:30 A.M. The three of us have had breakfast. Once again, Kevin has fixed us a delightful meal from what storage goods we have stashed. Powdered eggs and spam, mixed up with bacon bits, dried onions and peppers, with a side of instant potatoes. A meal fit for a king, given the circumstances. Josey woke long enough for a few mouthfuls and half a bottle of water, which put my mind somewhat at ease. I know she's dehydrated, and still a bit "shocky". Far from out of the woods yet, but improving.

After she fell back asleep I checked her wound. It looks good, if that can be said of something so horrendous. I cleaned it with alcohol, changed the dressing, then propped her stump up on a pillow to keep it elevated. There is a lot of swelling, which is to be expected I suppose, but the skin is not off color. Nor is there any discharge other than a little blood.

1:00 P.M. Kevin shot a rabbit this morning, and it's meat was mixed up with some canned veggies for a soup. It was delicious, and Josey had nearly a bowl full. She's doing very well, thank God. She's drinking more, and the color is returning to her face.

Her temperature is down to 99.9 degrees. I'm hopeful that the worst has passed, and I can soon fabricate some sort of prosthetic to get her up and walking again. She's a spirited woman, and being bed-ridden is not on her agenda. She's already griping that us men folk have no sense of cleanliness or organization as far as the camper is concerned.

10:15 P.M. Josey is asleep after dinner and a round of pain killer and antibiotic. I cleaned up while Kevin tended to his Mom. Then I stepped outside for a couple shots and some "unwind" time. Didn't realize it 'til just now, but I was wound up tighter than a drum. This whole ordeal has tested me to the limit, and now I can definitely feel the effects...

As I sit here outside in the cool night air under a star lit sky, I've had time to reflect on what's happened. Seems to me that I simply went "robotic". All emotion was swept aside, and my actions were almost automatic. I did what I had to do, no more, no less. And when it was done; when I was satisfied the danger had pretty much passed, the emotion came flooding back in. Like a ton of rock dropped on me all in an instant. Maybe that's how a soldier felt in the heat of battle, cold and calculating. When the battle was through, the weight of it all came crashing down on top of him. I can only speculate of course, having never seen combat. Then again, maybe I just have, but the opposing army could only be seen through a microscope...

The Voyage Continues

2011-05-13T13:57:00.000-07:00

A big thank you to Barbara and Kurt for your subscriptions!

Low, dark clouds were on the horizon as the dinghies assembled around Willie’s boat. He paced the deck as the last of the stragglers rafted up to the bobbing mass of little boats, and Jack sat on Island Time’s aft cabin top with Linda and Seth. When the last boat was tied off and the crowd’s attention undivided, Willie stepped up to the stern rail and began to speak.

“It has become fairly obvious that we are not safe anywhere near the United States. It is also fairly obvious that we can’t get too much further away in power boats. We have no idea when or where fuel will be available, nor will we be sure of how we can purchase it. Which leaves us in a bit of a pickle, and as far as I can see, with two choices. One, we could all crowd aboard the few sailboats amongst us and leave. Two, we could run the boats out to sea and scuttle them, leaving us stranded here come what may, but maybe we’ll be left alone. I’ll leave y’all to chew on that for a bit. I know it’s not much.”

Several minutes crept by before anyone spoke. The only sound was the increasing wind and small waves lapping the boats as their occupants quietly murmured among themselves. When finally the silence was broken, it was the cigarette boat’s skipper that addressed the assembled.

“Folks, I am going to stay put. I’ll scuttle my boat and take my chances. There’s not enough room on the sailboats, and I’ll be damned if I’ll become a burden on anyone else. I think we’ll be okay here so long as we lay low.”

“Might as well count me in” said the owner of the little trawler, already damaged in the passage through the Florida Straight. “We won’t get any further.”

A gust of wind rippled the bay as the storm clouds drew near, which sent a chill through Jack as he sat there looking at the group before him. Talk flowed as they all tried to decide what the best course of action might be. After quite some time, when the first drops of rain started to ripple the water’s surface, the decisions had been made. Most were going to scuttle their boats and melt in to the island’s population, hopefully to live in peace. A few decided to transfer on to one of the few sailboats that had room. And Jack had agreed to take Willie and his wife aboard First Watch.

With much sadness in their hearts, Seth and his wife decided to stay put for the sake of their young son. The details being finalized and good-byes having been said, the group went their separate ways as the lightning lit up the sky and the rain came down hard. Jack and Linda boarded their dink, cast off, and headed for First Watch. He pulled hard at the oars against the wind and chop which had whipped the shallow bay to a froth. Foam streaked the water’s surface and spindrift flew past them as spray pelted their bodies when bow met wave. Willie had won his anchor and come alongside Jack’s sailboat in the time it took him to row the fifty yards or so between the boats.

He helped Linda aboard after tying off his painter, then hauled himself over the life lines as the rain increased. Lines were passed between First Watch and Island Time, and Willie’s son Ben placed fenders between the hulls as they met. Then began the task of passing gear across from boat to boat. When the final items had found stowage aboard Jack’s boat, Willie launched his skiff for Seth and his family to take ashore. Tears mixed with rain and spray as they climbed aboard the skiff with their belongings. Hugs, kisses, and good-byes finished, they cast off and headed for shore. Peggy and Linda went below as Jack and Willie agreed on the coordinates for Island Time’s final resting place. With a lingering glance of both sorrow and dread, Willie cast loose the moorings and entered Island Time’s wheelhouse for what would be her final voyage.

Jack hauled his anchor and raised the storm jib. The wind was gusting over forty knots, and the rain fell hard, so much that the deck drains barely kept up. He followed Willie as he headed for the open sea. Soon the chop turned to swell that heaved their hulls as they passed through the gap in the reef. Soon after, Willie signaled by flashing his anchor light that they had reached their destination. Jack sailed upwind of Island Time, then launched his dinghy. He sent it over on a long line, and it reached the trawler just as Willie emerged on deck. He signaled that the deed was done, then climbed over into the little boat. As Jack hauled him in, he sat facing his beloved boat as she began to settle in the waves. Every light aboard was burning, and adorning the mast was a white flag bearing a black cannon barrel and the words “come and take it” as it snapped and popped in the wind.

Willie climbed aboard First Watch, but ignored the dink’s retrieval as his gaze returned to the sinking trawler. Jack also turned to watch as Island Time slowly settled, then turned over as a large wave struck her beam. The cabin lights could still be seen shining under water as the stern slipped beneath the sea. Soon the bow was standing straight up. The lights flickered out, and a great belch of air came from the bow hatch as it blew out. She bobbed twice more, then Island Time went down. Willie stared at the foamy spot for a few seconds more, then turned to haul Jack’s dink back aboard. When it was secured on deck, he went below without a word.

May 15, 2012

2011-05-03T18:22:00.000-07:00

A "two-fer" today, read this one first! http://mayberryspreppernetworks.blogspot.com/2011/05/may-14-2012.html

5:30 A.M. I woke with a start at 4:30. Immediately I went to check on Josey, and was relieved to find her very much alive. Though still warm, it seems her fever has subsided. She took some water, and murmured a bit before slipping back into unconsciousness. For a long while, I held her small hand and gently rubbed it, looking at her moonlit silhouette. I wished I could transfer my energy through her hand to make her well again. Maybe I did, because I am very tired again...

8:00 A.M. I awoke to the smell of breakfast cooking. Bleary eyed, I saw Kevin at the stove with a smile on his face. I looked over to Josey and saw her sleeping, with a little color having returned to her cheeks. Kevin told me that she'd woke up around 7 and said she loved him. He got her to drink a whole bottle of water before she fell asleep again. I was overjoyed, and Kevin wrapped me in a big bear hug. He bawled with joy, and so did I. It was only beans and cornbread from a pouch, but it was the best breakfast I'd ever eaten,

12:00 P.M. Josey spoke! Her fever broke, and she woke up. She asked me how I was doing. Choking back the tears, I told her I was fine, then grabbed her up in a hug. Then she realized that her leg was gone... I told her what happened. She lay there quiet for a minute. Then she looked me in the eye and softly whispered "thank you".

I told her that I didn't do anything for her that I didn't think she'd do for me, and Josey softly said "bullshit". She then took my hand, smiled, and told me I was her hero. I told her that I was just returning the favor. With that, she went back to sleep.

7:30 P.M. Kevin went out to hunt down supper while I stood watch over Josey. I gave her another round of antibiotics, and changed the dressing on her stump. her color is returning, and the fever is all but gone. She's still a little warm, but she's not burning hot or sweating much. I was even able to feed her some broth, which she kept down.

Kevin fed him and I a couple roasted rabbits with some caned veggies, which was a welcome treat after fasting for a couple days. After eating, Kevin ordered me to hit the sack or else. So I'm off to sleep. Let tomorrow find Josey stronger...

May 14, 2012

2011-05-03T15:07:00.000-07:00

3:30 A.M. Josey's condition is deteriorating. She's been shivering hard, and mumbling incoherently. We can't get her to take any water. All color is gone from her face, even her lips are white. Occasionally her eyes flutter open, revealing only the whites because they're rolled up.

I uncovered the wound so I could clean it out with alcohol. It's starting to weep a foul smelling pus. Kevin had to step outside...

Cleaned it up the best I could, then wrapped it in clean bandages. Gave her another antibiotic shot, but I skipped the morphine because she's so far out of it. I'm afraid to give her too much, and as far as I can tell she's not feeling any pain. Please God, let her pull through...

6:30 A.M. Daylight is breaking and Josey is still with us, but barely. Her shivering has stopped for the moment, but she's impossibly hot to the touch. And to make matters worse, her foot has started to turn greenish-black. I'm afraid gangrene is setting in. I'm even more afraid of what might have to be done.

9:00 A.M. Her foot continues to worsen in color and the pus from the wound has increased. Kevin steeled himself to it, and took over monitoring his mother so I could dig into the medical books I brought back from the military clinic.

1:15 P.M. It's time. Her condition is degrading rapidly now from the injury and dehydration. I can't delay any longer. Kevin is begging me to do it. Oh God I can't even write it out, what I'm about to do...

11:00 P.M. At this time, I'm about half way through my second cup of vodka. My hands are still shaking... I have never held a life in my hands, and I never want to again.

Kevin started a fire outside and put the largest pot we had full of water on to boil. While he sterilized the freshly sharpened knives and the hack saw, I wiped down the 6x8 piece of poly tarp with alcohol. Then I gently worked it under Josey, and wiped it down again when I was done. Next I arranged what little medical supplies we had on the small counter top next to the bed.

Kevin brought in the sterilized tools on a tray covered with another piece of sanitized poly tarp, and looked at me with the most desperate look I've ever seen. I began to shake, so I took a shot of vodka to calm my nerves. Didn't help much. So I just clenched my teeth and went to it...

I tied a tourniquet about five inches above her knee; then Kevin pulled a pair of nitrile gloves, previously washed in alcohol, on to my hands. Then I gave Josey a shot of morphine and waited several minutes, just staring at the knife while my insides curled up into a knot. Then I looked at her face, so pale and glistening with sweat. I looked at Kevin's face, twisted with fear. Almost unconsciously, I felt my hand reaching for the knife.

Two hours later, for better or for worse, the deed was done. Josey made not a sound during the whole gruesome thing, which was a great relief to me and to Kevin for sure. The procedure is detailed in one of the medical books I found, and I followed it the best I could, taking great care to be as clean and thorough as possible. When I'd finished bandaging her stump, I left Kevin with her while I disposed of her leg. I buried it, to keep the dogs or whatever from eating it. I don't know that they would, given the condition it was in, but I shuddered at the thought. And when I was finished, I vomited. If I ever have to do all that again in my life, it will be too soon.

She's still in bad shape. Her pulse is weak and her heart rate is slow, but at least she's still. Kevin even got her to take some water just a little while ago, which is encouraging. Now I'm going to finish my vodka and collapse...

Captain Jack: Run to The Hills

2011-04-29T21:49:00.000-07:00

Jack pushed the boat as hard as it would run, zig zagging his course toward the point. He hoped to round it and get out of firing range in the shallows of Frenchmen's Creek. The faster power boats were well ahead, except for the sportfisherman. They must have run out of fuel, Jack deduced, because they slowed considerably then turned and put the boat on the beach. He saw the crew jump overboard and wade to shore. Not a moment too soon either, for when the boat became stationary it also became an easy target and was destroyed by another incoming shell.

Several more rounds exploded around First Watch, many of them only a hundred feet from where she would have been had Jack not changed course dramatically. As he and Linda approached South Bluff, the shells were falling short by a hundred yards or so. The ship was unable to pursue them through the shallows of the bank, and what remained of the little fleet was now out of range.

They rounded the point, then threaded their way through the small islands into Frenchmen's Creek. Island Time had already dropped anchor, and Jack pulled right up to Willie's stern. Linda went forward and tossed a line to Seth, who was waiting on the aft deck as they approached. Jack retrieved a bottle of rum from the locker under the cockpit seat, then went to the bow to speak to Seth and Willie.

“Willie, what the fu...”

Willie cut Jack off. “I don't know. Not exactly.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Jack asked, incredulously.

“I heard something on the side band last night. Bits and pieces. It didn't make a lot of sense then, but it does now.”

“What was it?” Linda asked.

“Well.... I heard some chatter. Mostly in Spanish, but I kept hearing names of American Navy ships. From what I could gather, Castro must have decided he was better off making nice with us... I mean America... In order to put down the riots which had erupted there when things went to hell. Like we saw with the gun boat back in the Florida Straights, lots of Cubans took advantage of the shit hitting the fan. Castro's military started to turn on him, and many of his officers went rogue. Even though they had ties with China, geography made him re-evaluate his priorities. That and necessity. American warships and Marines still loyal to those rat bastards in D.C. were dispatched to Cuba to squash the rebellion Why not? They got oil... I suppose our government has been tracking our movements. As Jonathan said, we've been all over shortwave radio, which is an embarrassment to D.C. I guess since we... America had some ships in the area, we were targets of opportunity. At least that's my take on it. My Spanish is a bit rusty.”

Jack's blood ran cold. He couldn't believe that they would go so far... What did it matter to them if a handful of “nobodies” escaped? He couldn't even imagine the propaganda that must be circulating about him and his fellow escapees, and it made him sick to his stomach even thinking about it.

“So what now Willie?” asked Jack.

“Honestly Jack....” Willie took a long pause, staring down at the water. “I think we need to get the hell out of this hemisphere.”

The weight of that statement hit Jack like a ton of bricks. There was no way the whole group could do that, not on the few sailboats they had. There was no way they'd be able to procure enough fuel for the power boats. He twisted the cap on his bottle of rum and took a long pull, cursing the internal combustion engine in his mind...

May 13, 2012

2011-04-29T20:18:00.000-07:00

3:45 A.M. The fever has started. I woke from my light sleep to the sound of her moaning. She was sweating, and her skin turned pale. All I could do for her was turn the blanket back, wipe her down with a wet towel, then wait for the shivering to start and cover her up again. Kevin woke up and offered to stay up with her, but I can't sleep now...

6:00 A.M. Josey was conscious for a few minutes, so I had Kevin give her some water and another hydrocodone. We have no thermometer, but she's very warm to the touch. All we can do is wait and pray.

Once again I am leaving Kevin with her to go look for medical supplies. I hate to do it, but I think my best bet is to go back to the military base by Winchester. I really don't want to go back through that battlefield again, once was enough.

10:15 P.M. I made really good time, already knowing the route. Had the old Scout wound out doing 75-80 MPH on some stretches... And just in time too, Josey's condition deteriorated during the day. Kevin said she never really woke up at all, started shivering almost violently, and he wasn't able to get any water into her. The leg is red, and almost hot to the touch.

The base clinic yielded several suture kits, morphine, antibiotics, nitrile gloves, alcohol, gauze, bandages, and some medical books, among other things.

I gave Josey two shots: one morphine and one antibiotic. She's still shivering and hot, but I know it will take time for the drugs to take effect. Meanwhile, neither Kevin nor I have eaten a bite today. Time to cook up a little something for what is sure to be another night of fitful sleep at best.

While I was at the military base, I had a very odd experience which really unnerved me. It seemed like... I don't really know how to explain it... Something was "running". Like an engine or something. There was no sound really, more like a barely perceptible low frequency vibration. I looked in the direction of the "ventilation stacks" I saw last time, but nothing was coming out of them. I couldn't see any exhaust coming from anywhere around me. But that was my perception, an engine was running somewhere. A big one. And it wasn't far away.

There were no signs of life anywhere, just that unnatural vibration. I put my ear to the ground, but it made no difference. I couldn't pinpoint the source. I couldn't hear it anyway, just felt it. All around. Very faint. Very strange... One more thing, I felt like I was being watched. Yes there are security cameras around the base, but they should have been fried along with everything else electronic. Right? They didn't move. There was no light on them or anything. I saw no people, no sign of people, no movement other than trees swaying in the breeze. I got out of there quick as I could, because I have no desire to repeat my experience in captivity. That's when the Scout was pushing 80...

11:45 P.M. Josey is not doing well at all. The sheets are soaked, and she's burning up. I hope the antibiotics weren't bad; the label said "do not refrigerate", and the expiration date is over a year from now... Her leg has really swollen. Kevin and I loosened the bandages to accommodate the swelling and keep the blood flowing.

Though she still wasn't conscious, Kevin managed to get her to swallow some water. After so much sweating, I'm sure she's dehydrated. That can't be helping things at all. We're keeping damp towels on her head and belly for what it's worth, until the shivers start again. I'm praying for you Josey.

May 12, 2012

2011-04-26T18:57:00.000-07:00

My heartfelt thanks to Meadowhouse, Delr, and Doc for your subscriptions!

8:00 P.M. Disaster has struck... Early this afternoon, Josey noticed something on a hilltop as we wove our way through the dead vehicles along the highway. She saw what she thought might be a signal mirror, or a glint of sunlight from the glass of a moving vehicle. So we pulled off to the side of the road, geared up, and started to make our way up the steep, rocky hillside.

Half way up, Josey stepped on a rock which gave way from beneath her. Her foot slid into a small crack which the rock was covering and she fell over backwards, wedging her leg, breaking it, and dislocating her knee. It's a compound fracture, and her tibia was protruding from the skin.

Kevin threw up when he saw it, but quickly recovered and helped me free her leg. Josey was screaming in agony, and she'd more to come. I found a small stick within reach, and put it between her teeth to bite down on. I sent Kevin to fetch two straight sticks to use for a splint while I pulled off my T-shirt to cut in to strips for bandages and to tie the splint on. When he returned a few minutes later, I steeled myself to the task of setting her fracture as best I could. Which was something I did not look forward to...

I told her I'd do it on the count of three, but pulled it straight on two. With no idea whether the bones were aligned properly or not, I wrapped the wound with the T-shirt strips and then laid the sticks on either side of her leg. With Kevin's help I tied them snugly, one above her knee and two below, flanking the wound. Once the major pain subsided, Kevin and I picked Josey up and put her arms around our shoulders. We carefully made our way back down the steep, rocky slope, then carried her back to the trailer and into bed.

All we had was some aspirin which was in the first aid kit, and I gave Josey four of them. For what it was worth, which wasn't much I'm sure. She still writhed in agony until she passed out from shock. I had Kevin wrap her up in blankets and elevate her feet, then I dropped the trailer and took off in the Scout in search of medical supplies in the nearest town.

Unfortunately there wasn't much to be found. Some hydrocodone and a couple bottles of vodka, along with a few rolls of gauze, some Ace bandages, and a few feet of flexible splint are all I could find. The local pharmacy and doctor's office had been essentially stripped clean. I did find a pair of crutches among the bones of their former user on the way out.

When I returned, I found Josey still out. Kevin was putting a wet wash towel on her forehead and had been wiping the blood from her leg as best as he could. I took advantage of her unconscious state to fix her up a little better. Some of the vodka I used to flush the wound, which I then taped shut with bandage tape from the first aid kit. Next I covered it with gauze, held in place with Ace bandage. Then I used the flexible splint and more Ace bandages to stabilize everything as much as possible. I think things are lined up right, but I can't be sure. Only time will tell...

11:30 P.M. Neither Kevin nor I felt much like eating. We've been keeping watch over Josey, who's been drifting in and out of consciousness. I gave her a hydrocodone pill and some water while she was half way awake, about an hour ago. She's sleeping now, which is for the best at this point. I've suspended her leg in a makeshift sling hung from the overhead bunk, to keep it above her heart and reduce swelling and bleeding.

Kevin finally fell asleep on the floor next to his mother's bunk, and I carefully worked around him when I changed her dressing. She's still asleep thanks to the hydrocodone, and she doesn't seem to be running a fever. I think I'm going to have a couple shots of that vodka and get some rest myself; we're in for some long stressful days I'm afraid.

May 11, 2012

2011-04-22T19:00:00.000-07:00

First, I must thank Tweell, Cousin Linda, my Aunt B.J. and Uncle Rob, my uncle "Mad Dog", Dave, Sneaux (really Sneaux, the laptop was more than enough!), and a HUGE thank you to Granny B! Yer damn straight your subscription is included Granny! All of y'all are keeping these stories going, and if either ever gets published you'll all get a signed copy for sure! Thank you so much for all y'all have done for me. I'm eternally grateful, and this installment is dedicated to all of you...

11:30 A.M. We stopped at the scene of what had been a huge fire fight. Burned up military and civilian vehicles alike are scattered over a couple square miles of open fields, and shell casings are everywhere. So are the bones of the fallen. With solemn respect for those who fell here, we carefully searched the scene for anything that might be useful to us. Didn't find much besides a few knives, a couple jerry cans, and some camouflage netting. Having packed these few things in the Scout, we quietly left the area. After we put that place a few miles behind us we stopped to eat, and I took a few moments to put this down to paper while it was still fresh.

9:45 P.M. We moved north/northeast alongside Interstate 81 today. The good news is that there's a lot more dead vehicles on this stretch of highway. And the bad news is that there's a lot more dead vehicles on this stretch of highway...

We topped off our fuel tanks from the numerous 18 wheelers we encountered, and made good use of the Scout's winch to clear our path on several occasions this afternoon. One "bonus" we did manage to capitalize on was a grocery store truck which still contained several partial pallets of canned food. Much of it's load had already been taken, but there still remained several weeks' worth for the three of us. Another lucky find was an auto supply truck which carried a bunch of fuel stabilizer, amongst other stuff. I've begun to worry about how long the fuel we find will remain usable, but this stuff will help prolong the life of the diesel we find along the way. Otherwise, we would soon be faced with the task of "brewing" up our own fuel from grease bins and/or animal fat. This would slow our progress significantly.

Kevin and I went hunting again this evening, and tonight we brought down a calf which was wandering aimlessly in a field nearby. I hated to kill something so large, knowing we wouldn't be around long enough to make use of it all, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that a lot of other critters would certainly take advantage of what we leave behind.

Once again, Josey made an incredible meal out of our kill, and we stuffed what we could into the propane powered freezer in the RV. That's one good thing; we are able to find lots of propane cylinders, and the stuff doesn't go bad. Maybe we should start looking for a propane powered vehicle. When all the diesel has gone bad, propane will still be out there in large quantity. It's definitely something to think about. That, or switching to travel by water.

Meanwhile, our purpose is still unclear. I suppose we're looking for other survivors, but on the other hand we're trying to avoid them. I am trying to avoid them anyway, given my past experience. Maybe Josey and Kevin have a different perspective. I should ask them about that. But the fire is getting low, and the hour is late. There's another day of who knows what ahead, and it's time to rest...

Captain Jack: Under Attack

2011-04-19T14:21:00.000-07:00

Thank you to Christopher and Michael for your subscriptions!

After overcoming the disorientation caused by the shock wave, Jack darted to the surface. Linda was leaning over the life lines looking for him, and he saw immense relief in her eyes when she spotted him.

“What the hell was that?!” Jack exclaimed.

Linda had no time to answer before the second explosion rocked the lagoon. Jack quickly hoisted himself aboard and began scanning all around. People on shore were running in all directions, and many of the boats' crews were hoisting anchor. Jack ran forward to retrieve his own, yelling for Linda to start the engine. The third explosion hit much closer this time, sending a geyser of water, coral, and mud some two hundred feet into the air.

“Hard to port and full ahead!” Jack yelled as the anchor pulled loose from the bottom. He hurriedly secured it to the bowsprit, then ran aft to take the helm. “Go below and try to raise Island Time on the radio!”

He didn't bother with sails, there being so little wind. And he decided that quick maneuvering would probably be necessary just as the fourth explosion caused him to turn hard to starboard.

“Have you got Willie yet?” Jack yelled toward the companionway as he nervously swiveled his head in search of Island Time, and the source of the explosions.

“Not yet!” Linda replied. “Wait... Yes! I've got him... He says there's a large contact on radar just over the horizon... Due south!”

“Dammit!” Jack cursed. “They got us bottled up! Shit!”

He pulled up the local chart in his mind, and a second later he yelled “Hold on tight, I'm coming about!

Jack spun the helm hard over, not backing off the throttle. First Watch heeled hard against the turn, dipping her rail into the sea. Another explosion erupted just 50 yards off the port quarter. As he eased out of the turn, he shouted “Tell Willie to make for South Bluff!”

He seized his binoculars and scanned the southern horizon, now off his port side. A gray smudge of smoke, most likely from a ship running hard, was just barely visible. He swung his gaze toward the scrambling flotilla and his eye caught the churning froth of whitewater off the crew boat's stern. Looking forward, he saw a shower of sparks from two men furiously grinding on the anchor cable. Her anchor was fouled and they couldn't retrieve it. Then, to Jack's horror, he saw the boat explode. He watched helplessly as the two men on the bow were hurled through the air like rag dolls, amongst a cloud of fire, shrapnel, and debris.

Jack threw the binoculars down, and made what he knew was a futile attempt to jam the throttle down further. The little engine was already on the pin, running wide open. Linda climbed up to the cockpit, and heaved great sobs when she saw the burning wreckage.

“No time” Jack said. “Did Willie get the message?”

“Y... Yes.”

“Good. Get below and stay there. Be ready for hard turns.”

She paused for a moment, with a look of horror on her face, then disappeared into the cabin. Jack realized the look he had on his own face was one of murder. He felt the muscles in his forehead contorted in a way they'd never been before. His eyes were narrow slits, and his jaw was tightly clenched, causing the muscles to protrude and ripple. But he didn't change it, because murder was exactly what he had in mind. He wanted to make those who killed his friends suffer. He wanted to torture them unmercifully, then tear their throats out with his bare hands. It was the first time he ever wanted to kill. Not for revenge, but in cold blood.

May 10, 2012

2011-04-18T17:22:00.000-07:00

Before I get started, let me highlight the subscription button there on my sidebar. I've decided to do it that way, on the honor system because a "subscribers only" blog would require Google registration, which I know some of y'all don't want to do. So that's my solution. If you don't want to use Paypal, shoot me an e-mail. Both stories will be posted here, and I will migrate the links tonight or tomorrow morning. Thank you all for your support and encouragement. Now back to the story!

10:45 P.M. We stumbled across a military installation today. It was wide open, and deserted. So we went in to scrounge around for supplies, only to be disappointed by the confounding lack of.... Anything! The place had been stripped clean. There had been a significant fire fight as well, there was brass lying everywhere. And bones. Human bones, fragments of uniforms, all of which had been stripped clean by scavengers both two legged and four.

There were no weapons to be found, no ammunition. Not even a knife, a belt, a canteen... It was all taken after the carnage ended. What we did find was a hidden entrance to an underground facility, with a large "biohazard" warning on the door. The door was sealed somehow, and without electrical power I think there was no way to open it short of several hundred pounds of explosives. It was one serious door. And it was literally covered with dings from gunfire. Very little paint remained, and hundreds of deformed slugs littered the surrounding concrete passageway which led to the door. Somebody was desperate to get in there it seems.

The whole scene creeped us out, and we left in a hurry. Something just felt weird. Dangerous. On the way out, I noticed an odd structure which I just had to investigate before we took off. It appeared to be the ventilation system for the underground facility, as far as I could tell. It was a small building with louvered panels on all four sides, which appeared to cover large filter elements. Rising from the center of the roof were two stacks about 24 inches in diameter and at least 50 feet tall. I can only assume they are the ventilation exhaust. The building is surrounded by fencing and razor wire, which also struck me as odd, being inside the military installation. They were keeping their own soldiers away? Strange...

The three of us loaded up and pressed on. We're heading generally north along the mountains, bypassing D.C. as best we can. Then the plan is to turn east and head for the coast. From there we'll head north again, until.... Well we really don't know. I guess my train of thought is something along the lines of maybe the disease can't thrive in colder climates. Kinda like how there's more diseases in the tropics, but you don't see malaria in Canada. But then again, summer is approaching. Not knowing much of anything, I suppose it's as good a plan as any.

We stopped at a nice wooded spot for the night. Kevin and I bagged a feral piglet for dinner, which roasted up very nicely over the open fire. Josey rummaged through the food stash and came up with some baked beans and a vegetable medley which went well with the pork. Now if only I had a shot of hootch to wash it down...

Would You Subscribe?

2011-04-11T19:05:00.000-07:00

Computersaurus Rex is dying. My monitor recently took a dump. My pay is frozen, in light of the inflation we're all experiencing in food and fuel. My internet provider jacked up the price, as well as many other bills I pay.

My question is simple: Would you subscribe to my story? Of course, if I had subscribers I'd write more. It's getting to the point that I won't be able to write at all soon. The price of life has exceeded my ability to pay for it. So let me know, because soon I'll be unable to keep posting...

May 9, 2012

2011-04-06T19:33:00.000-07:00

11:00 P.M. We made our way into Winchester today. It looks much like every other city and town I've been through so far, dead and empty. There wasn't much as far as supplies went, and we couldn't find a confiscated stockpile either. This place was stripped clean.

However, we did find a decent camper. Small enough for the Scout to pull, but big enough for the three of us. The other thing we found is a tremendous amount of bird bones. It seemed like they were everywhere we looked. On roofs, on top of cars, scattered across the ground...

Bird bones and feathers everywhere. It's an eerie sight, that's for sure. In fact, the whole town gives me the creeps, and Josey too. We made camp on the outskirts, and planned on an early departure.

Kevin and I hunted down a pair of cottontails for supper. We were lucky to find them, because game seems to be pretty scarce around here. Livestock too, which seems odd. I've run across plenty of cows, goats, and sheep in my journey so far, as well as pigs (both feral and domesticated). But around here they are non-existent. Sets the mind to wondering if there's not a fairly large population hidden nearby. Dogs do their damage on livestock, but not big stuff like cattle. And now that I think of it, we haven't seen any dogs around here. Cats either. Until now, I've seen plenty of cats. But they were never a concern, so I never made mention of them...

Josey roasted those rabbits to perfection, and heated up some canned veggies from their stash to make the meal. It was wonderful to me (in an odd sort of way, given my isolation over the past months) to share a meal with other people. It almost felt surreal, like it wasn't really happening. Like it was some kind of dream, and I would soon wake to find myself alone again. And my thoughts turned toward my lost Jenny. My God, I'd nearly forgotten her. I've been through so much that I've become hardened and cold, but now I'm filled with sorrow over my Jenny. I haven't had time to grieve I suppose, but now it's caught up to me.

May 8, 2012

2011-03-19T15:02:00.000-07:00

10:00 P.M. I learned a little today from Josey and Kevin. They were from the outskirts of a small town in Alabama called Butler, and they picked up on my trail as I neared Birmingham.

The disease killed everyone in their town, and their story is a lot like mine. Josey's husband, Dale, died in her arms while Kevin watched helplessly. Food riots, government confiscation, all that, same as what I went through. Josey and Kevin also noted the large number of birds that died before, during, and after the human deaths began.

They packed what they could into Dale's old hunting truck (the Scout, after taking it back from the now dead sheriff), and set off in search of survivors. They headed west at first, since they had family in Baton Rouge. But then they spotted me making my way eastward. They'd seen enough to tell them that finding their family alive was unlikely, so they decided to follow me from a distance. Unsure of who I was, not knowing my intentions, and afraid I might be infectious, they shadowed me until I was taken by.... whoever it was that took me.

While they tried their best to track my captors, they lost them. For weeks they searched, but couldn't find me. Just when they were about to give up, it was I who found them.

So now I know for sure that there are others out there. Some who want something from us survivors, and others who are fighting them. I suppose it raises more questions than answers, but at least I know that I'm not alone anymore, and there are people on my side.

We travelled a bit today, and are now camped on the outskirts of the small city of Winchester. Tomorrow we'll head into town to look for supplies, and a larger vehicle. A camper would be nice too...

May 7, 2012

2011-03-01T15:36:00.000-08:00

9:30 P.M. That's right, I know the date and time now...

I woke up this morning, gathered up what little I had, and set off on the bicycle. Still in search of some form of transportation, and anything else I could find.

After riding for nearly five hours, pausing only to get a little something to eat from my pack, I noticed some movement between a couple buildings in the small town I was riding through. Didn't think much of it at first, maybe some dogs or other animals. Maybe something stirred by the breeze. But something made me turn around and head for that spot.

It was a narrow little alley, filled with trash and debris, ending in a fence between the buildings. I got off the bike and cautiously walked down the alley with my pistol in my hand. Nothing was there. I was just about to turn around when I saw it: a faint boot print on one of the fence boards! Fresh as could be.

So I climbed over the fence. Another alley between some buildings. And another partial boot print on a piece of cardboard...

I ran out to the street, looked both ways, and saw nothing. Across the street, there was a park. A pond, lots of trees, benches, picnic tables... And an old International Scout, which had decided to get cantankerous on the person who was trying to start it.

Not to spook them, I crept through the trees rather than sprinting over like I wanted to. The Scout was not going to start any time soon. Never hit a lick as it was cranked over.

About 30 yards away, I stopped and quietly watched as a young man exited the truck, looked around nervously, and raised the hood. He was soon joined by the passenger, an older woman. Both were dressed in camo, and had dirt smeared on their faces. The young man fiddled under the hood while the woman kept a lookout. She had a bolt rifle in her hands, and she looked like she meant business.

I watched them for five minutes or so, then decided to make my move. Knowing full well that I was putting my life in that woman's hands, I grasped my pistol by the barrel, put my hands in the air, and slowly walked out from behind the tree that hid me.

Instantly, that rifle was aimed at me, and I stopped. She said not a word... The young man pulled out a revolver nearly as fast, and crouched in front of the truck. Also without a word.

For what seemed like forever, I just stood there, hands in the air and holding my pistol by the barrel. Finally, I had to say something.

"I don't mean any harm."

Then I slowly knelt down and set the pistol on the ground. The young man stood up, and the woman slowly raised her rifle. I stood up and backed away from the pistol; something which seemed suicidal to me at the time, but also the right thing to do.

The woman approached me, while the young man remained by the truck, revolver at the ready. She stopped maybe twenty feet shy, and just looked at me with her piercing eyes. When she finally spoke, it was to tell me to drop my pack, kneel down with my ankles crossed, empty my pockets, then put my hands on my head. This I did, very slowly.

When I finished, she asked me to stand up again, hands on my head. She walked around me a couple times. Then she withdrew a pistol from her holster, slung the rifle, and patted me down. With the pistol pressed to my chest over my heart...

She asked me who I am, and I told her. For the next few minutes, she grilled me. I suppose I was so happy just to hear another human voice that I was almost laughing when I answered. After I finished telling her of my captivity, and the strange circumstances of my release, I saw those piercing eyes soften a bit, and a look of understanding came over her face. Then she told me to gather up my things, and asked if I knew anything about diesel engines...

Her name is Josey, and the young man is her son Kevin. Turns out it was they who were my shadows. They were just about to make contact with me before I was taken.

Their hesitance when I appeared was due to the fact that they were unsure of how I might behave after my capture. They didn't know what had happened to me. Quite understandable.

I did find the problem with their Scout; the rubber fuel line to the pump was old and brittle. It cracked, and let air into the injector pump and lines. One of those buildings I walked between was an auto parts store, so I went and fetched a length of hose. That replaced, and injectors bled, the old Scout fired right up.

We pitched camp here in the park, and we'll head out in the morning. Now there's three of us. There's got to be more.

More details tomorrow, now it's time to rest. I've got a lot more to write about...

Day Three

2011-02-07T19:56:00.000-08:00

Late P.M. Spent the entire day scouring the countryside for suitable transportation. Aside from some old diesel tractors, and a bulldozer, I didn't find anything. All were either gas powered (most of the gasoline has gone bad by now), or electronic diesels, which are fried. I did find an old Mack truck, but it had thrown a rod.

I do have a bicycle now, which is certainly better than hoofing it. But I sure do wish I could get to my old diesel truck and camper. That was a great rig...

This part of the country was really ravaged. There are bird bones everywhere, and human bones too. It's like a scene from a Hitchcock story. One good thing is that there aren't too many dogs around. On the flip side, there isn't much small game either. I have seen some deer, as well as stray cattle and hogs though. I hate to waste large animals, but they are there if I need them.

The roads are pretty clear for the most part. Every now and then there's a semi flipped over, or blocking the road, but overall there's not much. I tried to start an old Scout, but it wouldn't fire. The gas had gone bad, as had the battery. Thirty seconds of cranking left it dead, just like it's former owner. I will not go into the details of that...

So tonight finds me taking refuge in an RV I came upon in a driveway along the road. I like RVs. Too many houses have corpses in them. Besides, the grid being down means there's no heat in those houses (unless they have a fireplace or wood stove), but the older RVs have propane furnaces that require no electricity. I'd rather not deal with the houses myself. Other than gathering supplies, I have no use for them. Too creepy, being in someone else's home. Especially if their remains are still there, which often they are.

Time to make some dinner from the goodies in my pack. It's been a long day, and I'm ready for some rest.

Day Two

2011-01-30T09:10:00.000-08:00

Early A.M. I've packed up the few things I have back into the PVC tube, and made a little sling out of some twine that was in there too. Whoever loaded this thing put some serious thought into it. I'm glad.

So, with stick of jerky in hand, and pistol in my waist band, I'm headed eastward. I hope that's the right way to go. I'll soon find out.

Around noon. I came to a clearing, and across the meadow I spied a small house back in some trees. I'm in it now. And I do believe this is where the cache must have come from. There is an empty gun cabinet (someone broke the glass and stole the guns) with a few .22 rounds laying in the bottom. Same brand as those in the cache. I also found more of the dryer lint/vaseline packets, and a short length of PVC pipe, same diameter as the cache.

Not much else here, but I did find a pair of boots that fit me fairly well, and a flannel jacket. Glad to have both of them. I'm still wearing my "prison garb", which is basically like hospital scrubs, and slip on shoes. I've had to stop every ten minutes it seems, to dump the twigs and rocks out of the shoes. The "scrubs" aren't much against the damp chill in the morning and at night.

Digging around in the basement, I found a "false pipe". What alerted me to it was the cleanout, it seemed to be in an odd place. I found a pipe wrench on a nearby work bench and unscrewed the cap. Inside was a sort of net "sock" which contained, joy of joys, canned food! He was even thoughtful enough to stash one of those old army can openers in there. I need to check this place out more thoroughly, I bet there's a few more hidey holes. This guy was smart...

Bingo! A false wall panel next to the stairs. Inside was a set of camo clothes, boonie hat, hiking boots, a scoped 30-06, ammo pouch with about 200 rounds, backpack loaded with food and gear, canteen... Basically everything one would need to set out on foot in a hurry. I'm guessing this guy died from the disease before he had the chance. Thank you, whoever you were. Your preparations were not wasted.

Late afternoon. Well, there was a watch in the pack, but it was digital. In other words, it's fried. But I do have binoculars, a compass, and perhaps best of all, a map! I now know that I am in northwestern Virginia, near a little town called Bridgewater.

Which means I need to find some wheels, because there's some pretty mountainous terrain in every direction. I'm also too close to Washington DC for my comfort. I don't know what's happened exactly, but given my "prison" experience, I've no doubt the government is involved somehow. Or some sort of powerful entity. Either way, the thought of being near DC is making the hair on my neck stand on end...

Time to make camp and eat something. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, I think.

A New Day

2011-01-29T16:08:00.000-08:00

Some time in the early A.M. That's right! I know that is the approximate time, because I am now sitting in some woods, in a light fog, the sun just rising...

After the last explosion, one more small explosion blew the lock on my door. I had huddled in the corner, my mattress over top of me when I left off my last entry. The door blew, and when the dust cleared, I got up to look around. The door was part way open. So I cautiously peeked out into the corridor. It was still pretty dusty and smokey, but I saw no people. No motion at all.

Having gathered my wits, I headed down the corridor, where I found several more doors blown completely off their hinges. They led me to a stairwell, which opened up to a wooded area some fifty feet above. There was nothing but a small concrete structure which housed the door to the stairwell.

Once outside, I saw no one. Not even a trace of anyone. Nothing but the mist and the trees. I don't know who broke me out, or why. Or even if my release was their intention. All I know is that I am free once more, and I felt the need to document that fact, right now. That being done, I am out of here!

Around Noon: I've been going through the woods in a more or less easterly direction. Don't know why exactly; maybe because that's the way I had been travelling before my abduction. I haven't seen anything remarkable so far, which is a good thing I suppose. Onward...

Late afternoon: I've decided to stop and make camp. Nothing but woods so far, and I don't want to be stumbling through the woods after dark.

Night: Miracles never cease... I found some sort of "cache". The only reason I found it was because something didn't look quite right near a tree. The spot was just a bit too clear of undergrowth compared to the surrounding area. So I started digging, and soon found the top of a capped PVC pipe. Inside I found some beef jerky, matches, bottled water, candy, dryer lint smeared in petroleum jelly, a tarp, and a semi-auto .22, along with five loaded magazines.

So now I have a nice fire, and a bed of evergreen boughs, covered by the tarp. I've got food in my belly, and water. Don't know who left this cache here, but thank God I found it. Now if I could only find out where I am...

Another Day

2011-01-25T12:04:00.000-08:00

They've left me alone today. I've tried to keep track of time as best as I can, not having anything to go by but my mind, and the arrival of meals. Still couldn't tell you what day it is, or what time. Hell, not even what month...

It could still be April, or it might be July. They kept me disoriented until now, today being the first time they've not drugged me and taken me away to wherever it is they take me. I almost prefer the drugging, because now I'm just horribly bored.

Went over my body as much as possible, and found numerous needle marks, as well as a small scar on my abdomen, I presume in the vicinity of my liver (not being an anatomy student, I can only guess). They must've taken a biopsy or something. At least I hope that's all they did.

I feel well. Put on a little weight, being unable to exercise much more than jogging in place or doing push ups and sit ups. Hadn't done much of that either, most times being in a drug induced daze.

I am still amazed and intrigued as to why they're allowing me this journal. As far as I can tell, they haven't even read it when I was away. Maybe they're watching me right now as I write... I'd like to "rattle the cage" in some way, but there's nothing to rattle. The worst I could do in here is write on the wall. Everything is bolted down, and the bolts welded to that which they're holding in place. I can't reach the camera in the ceiling vent, and there's nothing for me to stand on so I could. If only I

There was just what sounded like a muffled explosion... YES! A second explosion! I more felt it than heard it, but they were explosions!

...What feels like several minutes has passed. I've not heard another sound. No one has come. Can't smell anything... Another explosion! Closer this time. I'm getting ready, something is about to happen.

Date Still Unknown

2010-12-10T17:43:00.001-08:00

I don't know how long it's been since I last wrote. The days all blur together since I have no reference to the passage of time. All I know is that I've been injected, knocked out, and awakened here in this cell several times since I last wrote.

I don't know what they're doing to me, or why. I don't know why I'm being held, or who is holding me. I see the same person every time, in that unknown military uniform. He has no distinguishing features. No hair to speak of, no scars, no tattoos... He never speaks. All I know is that his eyes are brown, and very cold. They show no emotion at all, not even hatred. Which is what I think they should show, for some reason...

They continue to feed me well, give me clean clothes and clean sheets. I have soap to wash up with, and clean towels to dry myself. Tooth brush and paste... But there is no stimulation. Nothing to look at but this gray cell and it's stainless steel fixtures. No light, other than artificial. Constant temperature, I guess around 68 degrees, which leads me to believe I'm under ground. It is slightly damp here.

I hear no sounds. No doors opening and closing, no voices, no air handlers... Only the sound of water running through pipes when I turn on the sink or flush the toilet. At no other time do I hear the water running. I only hear the footsteps of the soldier coming for me, and the door opening. It's really confounding. Disturbing. And worrisome.

What do they want? Why do they keep me here, isolated and alone? Nevermind what they're doing to me, those are the questions that haunt me.

Now it's time to go, I hear footsteps...

Date Unknown

2010-11-22T17:51:00.000-08:00

I don't know what time it is either, they took my watch. But for some inexplicable reason, they gave me my journal and a pen. Perhaps they want to read my thoughts when they come for me later.

I don't know where I am. It's a cell of sorts... Maybe 10 by 10... There's a cot, a toilet, a sink, and not much else. I do know there is a camera in the vent, and probably a microphone.

I woke up in this cell. The last thing I remember was the Humvee approaching, then nothing. I guess I let my guard down, my desire to interact with another human being overwhelmed my survival instinct. And now I find myself a prisoner... I don't know what they're doing to me. Someone comes through the door, dressed in a military uniform, but with insignia which I don't recognize. They knock me out with an injection, not saying a word. Then I wake up, back in this cell. I don't know how much time passes. There are no windows. Can't even feel the walls warm up in the afternoon sun, could be underground for all I know.

They do feed me, rather well in fact. But they mix up the meals (or so I think) in an effort to confuse me. I'll get a steak dinner, followed by a sandwich, then pancakes and sausage. Or any combination in between. Some days I get "lunch" three times. Or two breakfasts and a dinner. Or it could be that they've knocked me out again and that's just how I remember it...

I have not been beaten. "Studied" is more like it. When I wake in my cell, I usually have multiple needle marks on my arms and legs. But they do not speak to me, nor I to them. It's the same uniformed man who enters my cell each time; I've seen no one else. I've seen no where else... As far as I can tell, it's been three weeks that I've been here. I really don't know for sure, time has no meaning when you can't see the sun.

As best as I can figure, they want to know how I survived the disease. Maybe they think they can make a cure. Or maybe they want to prevent it. I have no way to know, but given the secrecy around here, I'd say it's the latter. I don't know anything beyond that, except for how I intended to finish my last entry, which was "so I'll put this aside for now."

The sentence I didn't get to finish before the dart struck my arm. It came from behind me. The Humvee was a distraction. Damn my trusting nature... Hopefully this is not my last entry, and hopefully I find out what's going on. If not, I hope this journal winds up in somebody's hands, somebody who will pass on my story to someone else who survived. Who is free...

April 8, 2012

2010-11-21T14:23:00.000-08:00

6:30 A.M. I was up early, anticipating my shadow's arrival. In fact, I can hear them coming now... Took a peak through the binoculars. Hard to make out in the early morning light, but it looks like a military Humvee. That makes me a bit nervous, but if they wanted to take me out, they could have done so many times over... Yes, it's definitely a Humvee. They're approaching slowly, in a non-threatening way. Still, I put my hand on my sidearm, just to make sure it's still there. My rifle is beside me.

I scanned around, nothing but the Humvee approaching. They're about a hundred yards away now, so I'll put thi

April 7, 2012

2010-11-15T20:06:00.000-08:00

6:00 A.M. What a beautiful morning! The sun is rising over the mist amongst the trees, squirrels are chattering, and the rest of the four legged critters are stretching and yawning. I've got some spam sizzling in the frying pan, and biscuits in the oven. A little gravy from a pouch, and I got me some breakfast. Once that's done with and cleaned up, it's road time for me again. meanwhile, I'll be sitting in the camp chair outside, sopping up the gravy with some biscuits, and scarfing down some spam "bacon". Life is good, and I'll be ready to attack the day...

11:30 A.M. Stopped for some lunch. A can of ravioli and some beef jerky. Found a screw in one of the trailer tires on my walk-down, so I pulled it out and plugged the hole. Otherwise, everything looks sound. Onward...

5:30 P.M. Covered lots of ground today. The rolling hills and piney woods have passed me by, giving me a sense of calm and serenity like I've never felt before. Stopped for dinner and the night at a roadside park again. Got some beef stew simmering in the pot, and a glass of coke and rum going.

I am amazed at the progress I made today; the roads were fairly clear. Nothing much got in my way, and I ever once had to slip the truck into four wheel drive. This camping spot presented it's self with relatively little effort on my part. So now I am simply hanging out, with a full belly and a cold drink.

9:15 P.M. I saw a flicker of light of light not too far away, headed in this general direction. I flashed my light a couple times, to guide my shadow toward me. My .45 is holstered on my belt, and my 12 guage lies across my lap. But I'm not afraid, because I know the shadow is coming. I know it's been closing in ever so slowly. I'm ready for it... Hell, I welcome it. One way or the other, I've got to know who my shadow is, and what they want. It will be a meeting which was a long time coming. I'm ready...

April 6, 2012

2010-11-06T18:48:00.000-07:00

6:30 A.M. Just finished with breakfast. I'm sitting outside right now, enjoying the cool morning for a bit before I go. It's funny, I feel a little more at ease knowing my shadow is out there. I'm waving at them now, because I know they're watching. Good morning shadow! Glad you are there. Well, I'm off. Don't want to keep them waiting...

11:30 A.M. Stopped for lunch. It's been fairly easy going now that I'm clear of the city. I've not seen a single sign of my shadow, they are very good at keeping hidden. But I know they are there. Somewhere, not too far off, they are there. They've stopped as well, to have a rest, and not get too far ahead of me. I wonder what they're having for lunch? Me, I'm having can of beef-a-roni. I don't even bother to heat the stuff up anymore, kinda makes me feel like Mad Max. At least it's not dog food, ha ha. Saddle up shadow, time to get moving.

3:00 P.M. Found a little country store that was fairly intact. Found some mayonnaise, ketchup, and salsa that haven't expired yet. Haven't had that stuff in a long while. I also picked up some lubricants, salt, pepper, and other spices. Got some batteries, and hygiene items. A bunch of beef jerky. But the best score was found in the store room out back. Sealed buckets of flour, grain, and a hand grinder. Yeast. Canned butter. I haven't had bread in so long now, but I can smell it baking. I can taste it. I think I'm going to camp right here and bake me some bread!

5:00 P.M. Ohhhhh the smell is wonderful.... I cut a slice, buttered it up.... Yeah.... Found some gallon size freezer bags in the store as well, so the bread will go in them to keep it fresh. Got some more canned ham there, and dill relish. Tomorrow for lunch I'll make ham salad sandwiches. Man, I haven't had a sandwich in months! What a treat that will be.

Heated up some beef stew for dinner, for no other reason than to sop up the gravy with another slice of bread. I left the trailer windows open, hoping that wonderful smell might draw in my shadow. No dice. Oh well, I'm going to pour me some bourbon and light up one of the cigars I found in the humidor in that back room. I'll drink a toast to my shadow, and enjoy this full feeling that can only come from fresh baked bread!

8:30 P.M. Lit me a nice fire. There is nothing better than relaxing by a fire with a glass of bourbon on ice and a good cigar. Sure wish the shadow would come down to join me, seems a shame to enjoy all this alone. But I saw them, maybe a quarter mile away. It was nothing more than a careless sweep of a flashlight across a pane of glass, but that quick flash caught my eye, even through the fire. If I had a bullhorn I'd invite them over for a cocktail! Oh well, maybe next time. They are coming closer. Before they'd keep a mile away. Then a half. Now they're a quarter. Maybe soon we'll finally meet. Guess it was a good call on my part not to go looking for them anymore, as it seems they are now comfortable coming in closer. Maybe in a few days they'll make contact. Which could be good, or could be bad. Don't know, but either way I'd like to see them just for curiosity's sake. Anyway, good night shadow, see you tomorrow...

April 5, 2012

2010-10-28T16:36:00.001-07:00

6:00 A.M. Just finished breakfast and headed outside for a look around. All dark and quiet. I'll be heading out shortly, and I'm not stopping until Birmingham is behind me. This is likely to be a long day...

9:30 A.M. Three hours, five detours, and a flat tire later, I've covered a whopping twelve miles. The right front on the truck picked up a piece of metal, in the sidewall of course. Put the spare on, which was very low on air (naturally). The little 12 volt compressor which was in the camper when I found it is slowly chugging away, but filling a 16 inch tire to 70 PSI is going to take a while. Meanwhile, I spied a similar truck about 100 yards up the road so I think I'll go rob it of it's spare.

10:00 A.M. Spare tire retrieved. I also took a nice hydraulic floor jack from the back of that truck, much better than the crappy little bottle jack I had to use just now. That thing is dangerous... My shadow is keeping well hidden, I've seen neither hide nor hair of them. But I know they're there, I can feel them watching me. Well, daylight's wasting.

1:30 P.M. Had to stop. The road is completely blocked by a pileup of vehicles, and there's no way for me to get around. Looks like I'll have to drop the trailer and break out the chains...

3:00 P.M. After a broken tow chain, lots of tire smoking in four wheel drive, a great many profanities, and a lot of sweat, I finally managed to clear a hole just big enough to squeeze through. Please excuse the grimy fingerprints on this page, but I am too lazy to wash my hands. Just needed to sit for a minute before I push on.

7:00 P.M. I am finally on the other side of Birmingham. What a day... I've been travelling with my headlights on for the last hour, but I've seen no lights from my shadow. Anyway, it's another truck stop for the night. I'll need to refuel in the morning after today's high fuel consumption activities which left me with only 1/4 tank. But now, refueling myself takes priority.

8:00 P.M. Belly full and I'm sitting outside, waiting to see a sign from my shadow. Got a nice little camp fire going, and I'm relaxing with some bourbon and soda. What the hell, there's a soda delivery truck across from me. Threw a couple cases in the back of my truck

The next big city is Atlanta. There is no way in hell I'm going anywhere near that place, not after today's adventures. It would take me a week to get through there... Haven't decided whether to bypass it to the north or south, though I am leaning toward south. Don't want to go to Florida, but I think I'll keep my southern route until I hit the coast, then turn north. I wonder how far my shadow is willing to go? Guess I'll find out.

9:45 P.M. No lights. Maybe they're being a little more careful? Or maybe they're just toying with me. Maybe they want me to think they've broken off the chase. But I'm not fooled, I know they're out there. It's a feeling, that one you get when you know you're being watched. Watched I am. Just waved to them. Good night shadow!

April 4, 2012

2010-10-24T11:11:00.000-07:00

5:00 A.M. Another early morning, I've been up for an hour. Just sitting here in the dark and watching. Nothing to see but the occasional shooting star. Might as well open a can of breakfast...

6:30 A.M. I went for a stroll. Climbed up on a highway overpass for a better view. I didn't see a light, but I did see a glow, about a half mile away. There is something out there, and I am going to find it.

3:30 P.M. I set out this morning on foot with my rifle, .45, and binoculars. Crossed the highway and headed into the woods toward the glow I saw from the bridge. Once again, the area was oddly clear of any kind of tracks or disturbance. It was "too clean". I searched around for hours and found nothing. Again. So I headed back to the trailer via the "scenic route", hoping to find something. I got back to the trailer and flopped down in my camp chair. Sat there for a good half hour, just kind of dozing. I got up and went inside for some water. While filling my glass, I noticed something. I had left the can opener on the counter by the sink this morning, and for some reason I remembered it was just a few degrees from being parallel with the sink. It is now exactly parallel. Looking around, I then found two of those tiny, sticky little grass seeds on the floor up front. I haven't been up front since I came back. Those seeds are fresh and green. Someone's been in here...

I've decided to keep moving. Whoever it is that's been moving along with me doesn't seem to be bothered by the fact that I know they're around. I've searched for them twice, they know I'm aware of them. Maybe they want me to be.

6:45 P.M. It's been slow going through the tangle of vehicles in the city. I've only gone 10 miles in the last 3 hours. The parking lot of a burned out strip mall is my camp site tonight. This place looks like Atilla the Hun swept through, destruction everywhere. The riots must have been massive...

8:00 P.M. There it is, a light, about a half mile away. Just briefly. Almost as if they want me to know they're nearby, whoever it is. Like they're taunting me. Maybe they are. They want me to know they're around, but they don't want to be found. They came to find out about me while I was gone, but went through great pains to hide the fact. Or maybe they were testing my powers of observation. Maybe they moved the can opener on purpose. Maybe they planted the grass seeds where I would find them. Or maybe they just got sloppy. Ugh... I think I liked it better when I was alone.

9:30 P.M. I can feel them out there. I can feel their eyes upon me. They are watching me, right now. Why? Why on earth would they follow me like this? Are they alone too? Is there more than one? Why won't they make contact? I don't understand. I can't imagine why, when everyone else is dead, a person wouldn't run with open arms to another living soul. It's beyond comprehension. Are they waiting for a sign or a signal? There, I just flashed the lights on the truck. There's your signal.

From now on, I will not try to find whoever is out there. I will show no signs of aggression, but simply continue on my journey. Maybe that will draw them in. I hope...

April 3, 2012

2010-10-15T13:26:00.000-07:00

4:00 A.M. I've been up all night, trying to find some clue or trace of the light's source. And I got nothing... No tracks, no broken branches, not a blade of grass out of place. Back at the camper now, maybe I'll try to sleep a little.

6:30 A.M. All I managed to do was toss and turn for 2 hours. Kept looking out the window for the light. Never saw it though... So I got up and have breakfast cooking. I would call it an omelette, but I think that's giving it too much credit, ha ha. Powdered eggs, thin sliced Spam "bacon", and some sauteed mixed veggies from a can. I'm so glad I found a few jars of picante sauce at the store yesterday, it'll help me choke this down...

11:00 A.M. Managed to cover 45 miles since I rolled out this morning. I'm nearing Birmingham, and the roads are starting to become more cluttered with derelict vehicles. Even the side roads. It's not like I'm on a schedule or anything, but I do like to cover some ground. And now this light thing has me wanting to keep my head on a swivel, rather than watching the road for the next obstacle. Anyway, my sleepless night is catching up to me, so I think I'll take a nap for a bit.

2:30 P.M. Woke up hungry. I want to get rolling, so I ate a can of ravioli. Didn't even bother to heat it up. A couple jerky sticks for the road, and I'm gone.

3:50 P.M. I topped a little rise, and as a small valley opened up below, a flash caught my eye. Like sunlight reflecting off of glass. I stopped and got out of the truck for a better look. Saw it one more time, maybe a mile away. Whatever it was, it was definitely in motion. I'm beginning to think I have a shadow, one which is always just a little bit ahead of me. I'm beginning to think I'm not alone after all. Which makes me wonder, if someone is shadowing me, why don't they want to make contact? Are they trying to determine if I'd be hostile or not? Or infectious? Or something else...

6:30 P.M. Pulled into a truck stop on the edge of Birmingham. As good a place as any I suppose. Here I can top off my fuel for tomorrow, which will likely be a long day winding my way through the mess of a big city. Dinner in a can awaits, then it's time to go on watch for the light.

8:45 P.M. It's really odd, being in a city, yet it's dark as pitch. I can hear dogs barking all around, and fighting. Got my .45 and my shotgun handy, along with a few boxes of buck shot. So far I've seen nothing, and the dogs seem to be keeping their distance. Interestingly, it's only big dogs I hear. No small yappers. Guess the little guys became chow for the big 'uns. They always said life in the city was "dog eat dog", ha ha ha. Yeah, I know. That wasn't very funny. But a little gallows humor never killed anyone. Ha, I did it again...

10:30 P.M. Still no light. Has me wondering if whoever it is knows they've been spotted and are being more careful, or maybe they broke off the chase. Or if I even saw the lights at all... I know I did. I know for sure I did. And I saw that something shiny in motion today. I saw them for sure.

11:45 P.M. Dammit, no light. Nothing at all. I can barely keep my eyes open now, so I guess I'm off to bed. Tomorrow will be a tough one...

April 2, 2012

2010-10-11T14:17:00.000-07:00

6:30 A.M. Powdered eggs and a can of hash for breakfast, yum yum... I'm going to leave today, no point in hanging around chasing lights. Though I know that strange feeling from the hill top will linger, and nag the hell out of me. Anyway, I'm off.

10:45 A.M. Stopped in a little town. Oddly, it seems as if nothing happened here. The grass is overgrown, but otherwise nothing looks disturbed. For the first time, I had to break in to a small grocery store, and it was fully stocked. The stench of rotted meat and produce was almost unbearable, but I made several "mad dash" raids on the canned food aisle. It was worth the heaving and watering eyes, because I now have at least three months' worth of canned goodies, and a ton of dry beans. Got some beef jerky too. I would have scored some rice and pasta as well, but the bugs beat me to it. Oh well, I've got plenty. As a bonus, I got a bunch of salt, spices, and cooking oil. Some toilet paper, paper towels, a few utensils, various soaps, and cleaning supplies rounded out the booty. My cupboards overfloweth...

Decided to eat since I stopped. Had me a nice early lunch of canned ham, dill pickles, and Vienna sausages. Hoo boy, I sure hope I can find some game for supper. Otherwise, it'll be some other canned conglomeration. Guess I shouldn't complain to much, all this canned bounty makes it possible for me to keep travelling.

Since I was here, I broke in and raided a doctor's office and scored some medical supplies. I also hit the hardware store for a few things. And the auto parts store. Pardon me while I change the oil and filter on the truck...

5:30 P.M. Stopped at a highway rest area for the night. After supper, I'll fill my diesel tanks from one of the semi trucks here. Looks like supper will be from cans again, but that's okay. The only critter I've seen was a skunk, and I'm not too keen on eating skunk. I'm thinking beef stew with a side of mixed veggies, with cherry pie filling for desert. Man, I'd kill for some fresh biscuits or bread to go along with it!

7:30 P.M. Diesel tanks are full, as is my belly. I gathered up some wood for a fire and broke out the camp chair. As luck would have it, I found some nice cigars in a motorhome parked here, as well as a bottle of good whiskey. Tonight will be enjoyable! I'm off to start the fire.

9:15 P.M. The fire is crackling, a cigar is smoking, and I've got a glass of fine whiskey and ice in my hand. Life is good. Except for the ever present lack of companionship... I tried to get a dog to come to me a few minutes ago, but I had to shoot him. He lunged at me, and I unloaded my .357 into him. How quickly the dogs have reverted to their instincts... That's to be expected I suppose, survival above all else. Maybe I can tame one? They're not that far gone. It sure would be nice to have a companion...

10:20 P.M. There it is again! A light, off in the distance. For a fleeting moment I saw it! Maybe a mile or two off to the north of me... I'm dropping the camper.

12:30 A.M. I've scoured the countryside and seen nothing. Dammit, nothing! I drove in the direction of the light, and all around. Covered a lot of ground, and saw no sign of anything. I'm beginning to think I'm losing my mind! No tracks, no sounds, but I KNOW I saw that light!

April 1, 2012

2010-10-03T11:03:00.000-07:00

5:30 A.M. Something woke me a half hour ago. Not a noise or anything, I just woke and sat bolt upright. I threw my pants, boots, and jacket on quickly then headed outside. Everything was quiet. I looked all around and saw nothing unusual. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a flicker of light through the trees, far off. I stared at that spot, hoping to see it again. I did see it again, up high, and to the right of where it had been. Haven't seen it since, but I am going to drop the trailer to go investigate.

7:00 A.M. I'm about 40 miles from camp in the direction I last saw the light. If my observation was correct, the light came from the hilltop I'm currently standing on. There's nothing here...

8:30 A.M. I've covered every inch of this hilltop. Nothing. A very odd nothing. Not a single track of any kind. The soil is somewhat soft on the surface, the trees are pretty thick here, and the hill is surrounded by woods. There should be animal tracks around here. I'm going to have a look in the woods around the hill.

10:00 A.M. There were animal tracks in the surrounding woods. Deer, dogs... But nothing else. Something seems odd about that hilltop. I don't know, maybe my imagination is getting the best of me. But I swear I saw that light, and I'm pretty damn sure the hill is where it came from.

12:45 P.M. I'm back at the camper. Just finished up a quick lunch. Haven't decided if I'm going to hit the road or not, I think I'd like to stay tonight to see if I can spot the light again. In the mean time, I'm going to explore a bit, then cook the rest of that venison.

3:30 P.M. I crossed the creek on foot and wandered around through the woods. Came across a small cabin. Not much there, but I did score a cast iron frying pan and a dutch oven. A little cleanup and seasoning and they'll be good. Pretty country here, everything is waking up for spring. Lots of tall pines and hardwoods, and plenty of game around. I wouldn't mind staying here. If I decide to settle somewhere I might come back here. It's a nice little cabin...

6:00 P.M. Just finished off the venison (man was that delicious) and cleaned up. Now I'll break out my camp chair and binoculars, and wait...

9:00 P.M. Nothing. Not a glint, not a glimmer. I would chalk it up to "seeing things" were it not for the creeped out feeling I got from that hilltop. It just wasn't.... right. A gut feeling. My gut has never steered me wrong, so I listen to it.

11:00 P.M. Still nothing. I've been scanning all around, but the only thing I've seen has been a couple rabbits. It's late, I'm tired, and I think I'll call it a day...

March 31, 2012

2010-08-20T15:23:00.000-07:00

6:00 A.M. It's dead still and quiet this morning. I actually tip-toed outside so as not to break the silence, but the crunch of twigs and pine needles rang out like a siren. It was so serene that I just sat there in my camp chair and took in the nothingness.

Once the light broke through the trees, I picked up my shotgun and went "shopping". Headed to the office first. There I found a 5 gallon water jug, still sealed, so I humped it back to the trailer, then went back for more. Picked up a box of ink pens, a legal pad, and a notebook. This one is only half way filled, but I suppose I'll need another at some point. Writing here helps keep my thoughts in order, and honestly, it keeps me sane. You know, I just realized I've not spoken a word in weeks! I just said "hello" to make sure I can still talk.

Most of the stuff in the office was useless to me, being, well, office supplies... Paper clips and stale coffee are not on the list, so I moved on to the campers. Picked up a nice fire poker, and a "hot dog" spear for cooking over a fire. Got some long matches, and fire starter bricks. A sweet set of rain gear. And the cream of the crop, a .45 semi auto, holster, three loaded magazines, and five boxes of hollowpoint ammo. Much nicer to carry than the shotgun or a rifle, yet still packs a wallop. Time to get on the road...

1:15 P.M. I was making such good time I didn't want to stop, but my stomach got the best of me. Actually got up to 45 MPH! That's the fastest speed of the whole trip so far. Had me some lunch, and topped off the diesel tank from an 18 wheeler. I should be near the Alabama border, and beyond it by this evening. When I hit the coast, I suppose I will head north. No particular reason behind that, other than this truck won't float. Though I could have my choice of boat if I so desired.

4:30 P.M. Stopped early today, because I'd really like to eat something that didn't come from a can. I parked at a roadside picnic area near some woods and a creek, so finding some chow on the hoof should be fairly easy. Of course, I remember the saying about "famous last words"...

6:45 P.M. Success! I brought down a small doe who came to the creek for a drink. Cut her tenderloins and back strap to cook up tonight. Felt bad leaving all that meat, but there's no way I can preserve it all. Not while travelling. The dogs, or other wildlife will have a good feed when they find her. Nature lets nothing go to waste.

9:00 P.M. Sitting here by the fire light, still feeling warm and satisfied all over from such a delectable meal. I couldn't eat it all, so I wrapped the leftovers in plastic wrap for breakfast tomorrow. The refrigerator in the trailer still works on propane, which is great. So long as I can find propane... It doesn't use much, nor does my cooking. Don't use the heater, my sleeping bag is plenty warm. Besides, the heater won't work without the fan, and the fan would run the battery down in a hurry. The truck charges it as I drive each day, but the heater fan just draws too much juice. Something I need to consider come winter. But it's spring now, the weather is moderate (though a lot cooler at night up this way than I'm used to), and I've got plenty of options when the time comes.

March 30,2012

2010-08-15T14:00:00.000-07:00

11:30 A.M. Woke up with a throbbing head. Serves me right I guess for finishing off that bottle. So I just grabbed some cereal bars and got rolling. I'm about 100 miles from the river now, made pretty good time on the side roads. My outlook has improved over yesterday, just a bad day I guess. Not my first, and I'm sure it won't be my last. Anyway, time for a quick bite, then get on the move again.

2:15 P.M. I had to stop. Up in the sky, I see what looks like a jet trail! It's very high up, higher than airliners used to fly. A military aircraft maybe? I don't know. Maybe they had a plane stored somewhere that it would be protected from the CME that fried everything? Or maybe some part of the world was not effected? Or it could be a meteor I guess. Or some space junk reentering the atmosphere. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. I won't know unless I keep going...

6:30 P.M. Found a nice campground to stay at tonight. It's small, and tucked up in the pine trees. Looks like it was a peaceful place to stay once, but it's a bit overgrown now. It will serve.

I don't know why, but I pulled out the awning and broke out a camp chair to sit in while my dinner warms. Maybe I wanted to feel like I'm actually camping out, just for the hell of it. Either way, it's rather pleasant. There's a bit of a breeze blowing through the trees, squirrels are running around all over, and a skunk waddled by, thankfully at a respectable distance. A mischievous looking raccoon is eyeballing me from atop a picnic table across the road. But there's something missing. No chirping and chattering of birds. This place should be loaded with birds, yet I've not heard or seen a single one. It's eerie. Were it not for the other critters out and about, I'd think there was a predator of some sort nearby. Or maybe a major storm approaching. There's no sign of either.

Which sets my mind to wondering... I've heard of "bird flu" before. Could that be what happened? Could some kind of "super bug" have gotten loose when the lights went out? Was it carried by birds and spread to humans? And what makes me immune to it, but nobody else? Surely it's impossible for one single person to be immune. There must be others! There has to be. Somewhere there has to be. Supper's ready...

March 29, 2012

2010-08-08T17:26:00.000-07:00

6:00 A.M. Up early again, breakfast is already done. Something simple, me still being full from last night. Today I cross the bridge into Mississippi, for whatever that's worth. I don't expect to see anything different, really. My attitude is bad this morning, and I'm angry in general. That's how I feel, and there's not much I can do about it. Maybe I could read a "self help" book by Dr. Phil, but right now all I want to do is piss on Dr. Phil's corpse. He's got no clue what I've gone through, and am still going through. I'm going to end this now, because I'm getting too worked up...

11:30 A.M. Crossed the bridge without incident. My bad attitude persists. Don't know why, I just can't shake it. Made it to a little town, and I hoped to find some grub, but the store was wiped clean. It's pissing me off that food was wasted on the dead, or gathered up somewhere by a bunch of self righteous bastards to be passed out in some rationing scheme. Yes, I've got enough for a good long while, but I'm still angry. I'm livid at the tin pot dictators that decided to take it upon themselves to decide who was "worthy" of being fed and who was not. Again, I end this, because this anger is doing me no good.

3:00 P.M. The going has been pretty easy by comparison, but I'm just tired. It's time to stop for a while, and collect myself. Time to decide what I'm really doing, and why. Time to decide if it's worth it...

I honestly don't know. If it's just me, then what the hell is the point? Why bother? If I live another 30 years by myself, what have I proved? What have I gained? Ah dammit, I'm gonna drain that bottle of booze I found and take myself away. I'm just not in the mood to be alone today. It's driving me nuts...

March 28, 2012

2010-08-06T15:17:00.000-07:00

12:00 P.M. Got an early start this morning to make up some time. Not that time really matters I guess, but in the back of my mind I'm hoping I might "outrun" the disease and find someone alive out there. The heavily decomposed bodies say otherwise, but I still hold on to that little bit of hope. Hope that I'm not the only one...

The truck is running really well, and has the bonus of dual fuel tanks. I will only run one down at a time, and switch to the other when the empty is filled again. I picked up a barrel pump at the farm where I found this truck, which will make filling up much easier for me. Just tested it out on an 18 wheeler and it worked very well. Both my tanks are full, as are my portable containers. My fuel mileage seems to be a little less than the Blazer, but that's understandable, this being a much bigger, heavier truck. Not that it matters much, there's an 18 wheeler full of diesel every hundred yards it seems along the interstate. One reason why I'm following them.

I stopped at a highway rest area, always a prime refueling spot, there being several big trucks at every one I find. They are also excellent places to find any gear I might need, being filled with vehicles packed for travel. The further east I go, the more vehicles are in the rest stops. More folks were on the road in the eastern time zone when the solar flare hit, and left them stranded. Which makes me wonder if I should have gone west instead...

I've come this far, so I will keep heading east. Doesn't really matter much at this point I suppose. Maybe going west would be a little harder, the population being less dense, so less traffic on the roads. Less fuel and supplies for me. But maybe folks escaped the effects out west? Sure wish I had a radio that worked, that might answer my questions. For now, eastward it is. And lunch time.

3:00 P.M. I reached the Mississippi river. The I-20 bridge is a mess... Don't know why, but the bridges always seem to be jammed up. Looks like I'll need to drop the trailer and put the winch to work.

7:30 P.M. The winch got a real workout. So did the big dozer I found! It's an older model, no electronics. After a few shots of ether I found in the truck that was towing the dozer, it came to life and made short work of clearing a path. Tonight I'll camp here at the base of the bridge and head over tomorrow. It looked like a lot of vehicles lost power going up the bridge, and started rolling back down, crashing into each other. The "downhill" side was the same near the bottom. People panicked I guess, and without power steering or brakes, they didn't know what to do. Somebody in an older vehicle shoved his way through, there are tire marks, traded paint, and crumpled body panels on the bottom half. He just shoved his way between cars and floored it. Lots of door mirrors on the pavement, and pieces of trim. Even a few bumpers. That guy really wanted to get out of there.

I've got fresh pork for dinner tonight! Just as I was parking, a small group of feral hogs came busting out of the brush near the river. I ran to the trailer, grabbed my scoped 30.06, and took a piglet down from 150 yards. No sooner did I drop that pig then a pack of six dogs came right on their heels. Took out the dogs as well as they converged on my kill. I'm writing this as that piglet roasts over a crackling fire. The smell is wonderful! I think a can of baked beans will complement the meal nicely, so I'm off for the beans and a pot.

9:00 P.M. Oohhhh, I ate too much. It was so good I just couldn't stop. But it feels good too, having an overstuffed gut full of fresh meat. It's also nice to sit here next to the fire "digesting". The only thing missing is music. I really miss music. And companionship...

March 27, 2012

2010-08-04T13:38:00.000-07:00

6:00 A.M. It's cereal bars for breakfast this morning, because I need to get going. The John Deere would serve my purposes, but I'd much rather find something a little more "enclosed". The pop up camper was comfortable, though the sound insulation leaves a little to be desired. Every howl, every bark woke me up throughout the night. I slept with my shotgun in my arms...

10:30 A.M. I might have found a candidate. It's an older crew cab 4x4 that looks to be in pretty good shape. Good tires, a winch, and a solid hitch. Time to go to work.

12:30 P.M. After charging up the batteries with the tractor, she fired right up. All the belts and hoses look good, no major leaks anywhere, and a standard transmission. Perfect. So long John Deere, and thanks.

7:00 P.M. Made it back to the trailer. I tried out the winch on the Blazer after I unhitched the camper. Works like a charm. After transferring all my gear into the truck, I hitched up to the camper and pulled it a few miles while watching all the gauges, and everything looks good. Found a cozy little picnic area beside the road and decided to stay here for the night.

On my way back with the "new" truck, I noticed more dead birds. I've also realized that I haven't heard too many singing in the mornings the last week. It just struck me that maybe the birds are carrying the disease that killed everyone. Maybe it's some mutated bird flu. I sure wish I knew. And I wish I knew why it hasn't killed me. Or any other animals. I wish I knew if it will kill me yet...

8:30 P.M. There's a pond behind the picnic area here, and I saw fish jumping. Fresh fish sounded wonderful after eating packaged crap the last couple days. There are a couple rods and reels in the camper, so I decided to make good use of them. Caught two beautiful catfish, cleaned them, and fried 'em up in some cornmeal that was in the camper (along with the oil). Absolutely delicious! Sure wish I had some hush puppies and 'slaw to go with the fish, but no such luck. That's okay, the fish was good enough, along with some canned green beans.

Well I found a new truck, I'm back in my camper, and I've got a belly full of fresh fish. Should sleep really good tonight.

March 26, 2012

2010-07-30T12:51:00.000-07:00

11:15 A.M. I was up at 4 this morning, so I whipped up a quick breakfast and got rolling. All was well until 15 minutes ago. The transmission gave up the ghost... It shuddered then died spectacularly in a cloud of smoke. I shut the engine off, hopped out, and stepped right into a pool of transmission fluid. Great...

So I'm making up a pack with some food, water, extra clothes, some tools, ammunition, a good knife, etc. Basically the pack I started off with when I left home, now with the addition of two pens and this journal. The mission is to find a new ride. I'm near a small town, pretty rural, so I've got high hopes that I can at least find a tractor or something non-electronic.

1:30 P.M. Just my luck, the first tractor I found is gas powered, and the gas is bad. There is some gas that seems to be okay stored in the shed here, but I don't think I should waste any time messing with this thing. However, I did score a bicycle. Onward....

3:15 P.M. Things are looking up, I just traded the bicycle in on a John Deere. It's even got a full tank of diesel. Only cost me four rounds of buckshot to dispatch three rather aggressive dogs I encountered along the way. Seems they enjoy chasing bicycles as much as cars. Hopefully they don't like chasing Deere.

5:30 P.M. I think the bicycle might have been faster. The tractor will do 20 MPH, but not without bucking like a bull on this lumpy road. Anyway, I reached a small town, and I'm cruising the streets in search of a suitable replacement for the Blazer. Whether I find something or not, it looks like I'm spending the night here because I can't make it back to the trailer before dark. So I'm also scouting for a camp site...

7:30 P.M. No luck on a vehicle yet, but I did find a pop up camper to spend the night in. I could have picked a house to stay in, but that would give me the heebie-jeebies, staying in someone else's house. Always has. Does now more than ever, knowing the owners of that house are dead. It would probably take a few houses before I found one where those now dead owners aren't still at home... I'll take the camper.

Started a nice fire, and in a minute I'll toss my can of beef stew in the pot to heat up. Meanwhile I'm happily chewing on some venison (I think) jerky that my tractor donor also provided. Along with half a bottle of whiskey. Just a few sips to calm my nerves. Oddly enough, I'm "homesick" for my camper, and a bit out of sorts, having left it behind. I guess it has become my home now, so I miss it. All my stuff is there, and it feels, I don't know, "familiar" I guess. It's like my little rolling oasis. And now I'm rambling, maybe I should have stopped at one sip...

March 25, 2012

2010-07-25T12:45:00.000-07:00

I woke up in the middle of the night, for no apparent reason. Just couldn't sleep. So I grabbed my shotgun and went for a walk. Probably not the best idea, going out in the dark, but I couldn't stand just sitting in that camper. As I walked the streets of the residential neighborhood, I came across a small herd of deer happily grazing in the overgrown yards. They looked up at me, and I stopped. They just eyeballed me for a minute, then went back to their grazing. Once in a while, one would pop it's head up and look at me, but they didn't seem too concerned by my presence. I was captivated for some reason, and I watched them for almost half an hour.

Made my way back to the camper as the first light of dawn broke, and I just finished up my breakfast. Time to go...

11:30 A.M. Stopped for a bite to eat. I'm headed east again, along Interstate 20. The "traffic" of dead vehicles isn't too bad, and I'm able to make some time. I even got up to 50 MPH for 15 minutes or so before I had to slow down and weave my way through another cluster of vehicles. That's a big deal seeing as how I average maybe 30 MPH if I'm lucky. A 200 mile day is something to celebrate. I might break that today if my luck holds out, so I'm going to get moving.

6:15 P.M. So much for my 200 mile day... A jacknifed semi and a jumble of cars took care of that. There was no way around that mess, so I had to back track six miles to the nearest exit. I'm on a two lane that parallels the highway now. Two lanes are great because the "traffic" is less, but when there is something blocking the road, it's harder to get around. Sometimes impossible.

I'm in a gravel driveway this evening, chosen because the ground is pretty wet, and it looks like rain again. The driveway leads back to a fair sized house back in the pine trees. Thought about going through the place for supplies, but I don't really have much room, nor any real need for anything at the moment. That's the only good thing about all this, whatever I need is pretty much just laying around. All I have to do is go pick it up. For now anyways. For years, really. All that canned and freeze dried food is out there, sitting, waiting for me to find it. More ammo than I could ever hope to shoot. My only real concerns are clean water, and in a few months, fuel. Somebody to talk to would be nice....

March 24, 2012

2010-07-17T14:05:00.000-07:00

6:30 AM. The rain is coming down in buckets, thunder and lightning everywhere. No early start today. So I am frying up some Spam (sure do miss bacon...) and cooking up some powdered eggs from my stash. A little bit of canned peppers thrown in the mix and I guess I'll have something resembling an omelette.

Decided to write a bit while things are cooking. It seems to help me keep from going insane, maybe because if nothing else, I expect someone might read my writing some day. It's a little ray of hope to hold on to. And some exercise for the brain. I'm saying the words aloud as I write them, because I just realized I've not spoken a word in weeks. It's so strange, not having anyone to talk to. Hell, I'd just about settle for a good argument now. At least it would be interaction.

The rain is coming down harder now, which makes me worry that I might not be able to get out of here. I can't see the bottom of the hill where I entered this place, could be a lake down there now. The ground was very firm when I parked, but it could be very mushy now. The Blazer is 4 wheel drive, and has good all terrain tires on it, but this trailer will bog it down pretty fast. Breakfast is ready....

7:15 AM. Still pouring down rain, though the thunder and lightening have subsided. I am amazed how quick breakfast went. Doesn't take long to cook, eat, and clean up when it's just one person. Just for something to do, I'm going to try filling the trailer's water tank. The camper has an awning, and I've got a funnel and some hose. I'll put on my poncho and give it a whirl.

8:30 AM. Well the awning/funnel/hose worked out well. I rolled out the awning and let it get rinsed off really good. One side set slightly lower than the other provided a really good flow coming off the corner. Using a couple cable ties, I attached the funnel to the awning strut, and ran the hose from it to the trailer's water tank fill. Didn't take long before the tank overflowed, maybe 10 minutes. I filled my portable water jugs as well, and still had 15 more minutes of good hard rain before it slacked off. It's still raining, but much lighter than before. Yes, there is a lake at the bottom of the hill, but it is draining off quickly now that the rain let up. I'll try to get out of here when the water subsides.

9:30 AM. After some slipping, sliding, good old fashioned mud slinging, winching, and cussing, I made it back to the road. The camper, Blazer, and myself are all filthy, but I'm back on the pavement again...

2:00 PM. Drove through lunch, just snacked on some jerky I had up front with me. I'm near Shreveport, and the increased number of dead vehicles forced me to take a side road. Stopped for "the cause", to refill my canteen from the trailer, and to dump some fuel in the truck. I like this biodiesel, smells like french fries when the engine is running. But I'm a bit worried, seems like the transmission is slipping when it shifts gears. I pulled the dipstick, and the fluid looks okay. The level is good. Hope it's just my imagination.

5 PM. Stopped for the night at a former convenience store. It burned down not too long ago, but after the mudfest this morning, I figured parking on pavement was probably a good idea. Besides, it looks like it might rain again. The sky was mostly overcast today, and I ran through several rain showers.

I snagged a propane bottle off an RV I passed today just to have some extra. I know my cooking doesn't use much, but I don't know how full the bottles are on my trailer. "My trailer", that just struck me as kinda weird. It's not my trailer, I took it. It belonged to someone else, who is no longer alive. I took this truck as well. I've taken basically everything that's kept me alive so far. What an odd feeling, after working for my keep for so long. Feels kind of "dirty" in a way, just taking things that belong to someone else, even though I know that someone is no longer here. Well, the rules have changed now, whether I like it or not. I think I will eat dinner, then scout around a bit to see if I can find some food, supplies, or whatever.

8:00 PM. My scouting trip was worth the effort. Walked into an open garage on a house and found a really nice .22 semi-auto, a Marlin, along with several thousand rounds of .22 long rifle. Also scored several good knives, cases of bottled water, a bunch of freeze dried meals, and canned food. So much that I went back for the Blazer to load it all up. These folks were prepared, but unfortunately nobody could prepare for what happened to us. I said a prayer and thanked these people for the bounty they provided me.

March 23, 2012

2010-07-16T08:50:00.000-07:00

12:00 PM. Again, I got up early and got moving. It's been much easier travelling now that I'm away from the city. The smoke is behind me now, and I'm glad for that. No telling what chemicals are in that stuff...

I'm in Louisiana, and I've decided to head north toward Shreveport, then head east along Interstate 20. Don't know where I'm going exactly, I guess I'm just looking, hoping to find people alive somewhere.

Something strange I noticed, strange being a relative term these days, is a lot of dead birds. I don't know if the toxins from the refinery fire are what killed them, or something else. No other wildlife seems to be affected. And certainly not the dogs. They're doing just fine, much to my dismay.

2:45 PM. Stopped at a farm to look for diesel. The farmer had a little biodiesel production setup, and about 100 gallons of fuel made. I've been thinking about this, because I know the fuel sitting in trucks is slowly going bad. Anyway, the farmer had put together a very in depth manual on the process he used, so I put it in the Blazer for future use. I also poured his fuel in my tank, and filled some 5 gallon jugs as well. Too bad his truck had electronics, or I would have taken it as well. A 1 ton 4x4 with a large auxiliary fuel tank in the bed would come in very handy.

4:30 PM. Found a nice spot to camp for the night, fairly open and on top of a small hill. I'm going to feast tonight on canned meat and veggies which I found hidden in the industrious farmer's barn. A good, hot stew will be a welcome treat.

8:30 PM. Belly full of stew, a good stiff drink, and a nice little camp fire make this evening almost pleasant. I'm sitting by the fire in my camp chair, shotgun across my lap, under a clear, star lit sky. It's very dark now, something that has taken some getting used to. Never knew how much the lights from the cities back lit the night sky until they were gone. It's absolutely black on the new moon. Nice in a way, but frightening in many others. I know why settlers built fires on the frontier now, as I watch the glowing eyes moving around in the distance. The dogs won't approach the fire. I will tend it until it dies, then I'm off to sleep.

March 22, 2012

2010-06-26T16:58:00.000-07:00

10:45 AM. I got up and got right to it this morning, leaving around 6:30. As I suspected, the highway has been a mess. At one point I had to turn around and back track several miles to find a way around an overpass that was completely jammed.

The side streets aren't much better. More than once I've bulldozed through a fence and gone across someone's yard to get through. At one house I picked up a couple spare tires for the trailer, since I discarded the flat tire from a while ago. It felt strange, just taking the wheels off of someone's camper and leaving it there on blocks.

The smoke is pretty high up, but definitely getting thicker. There is a gray haze around the sun, and everything just looks.... dim. I need to keep moving.

3:00 PM. Very slow going. I stopped to siphon fuel from a furniture truck. Been burning a lot and not getting anywhere fast. Been trying to parallel the interstate as best as I can, mostly because it makes navigation much easier, and because there's plenty of diesel sitting in the 18 wheelers along the road. However, I am debating whether I want to attempt crossing the long bridge over the swamp in Louisiana. Perhaps diverting to the north is a better plan. Yes, I've convinced myself. Northward it is.

9:30 PM. What a long day. Had to drop the trailer and break out the chains to clear some cars off a bridge over the Sabine River. I'm beginning to think a Caterpillar might be a better mode of travel. It would have to be an old one though, I know the newer ones are loaded with electronics. Fried electronics...

I got excited when I was crossing the river because I saw a boat coming downstream. For just a minute, I held out hope there might be someone alive on board. Didn't take too long to realize it was just adrift on the current though.

Today has been exhausting. I'm going to eat a can of something and go to sleep.

March 21, 2012

2010-06-23T19:17:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to a horrendous noise. It was still dark, and I half asleep. Looked out the window and saw an enormous pack of dogs, must have been a hundred of them. They were barking, growling, and snarling, apparently fighting over a carcass they'd brought down during the night. That was all well and good, until they discovered me.

I suppose the smell from the grill, which I stupidly left out last night, had attracted them. From there they could smell the food I have here in the camper, and the Blazer. I guess they smell me too. They started scratching on the camper, jumping up to the windows, teeth bared and snarling. I grabbed the nearest gun, my Marlin .22, then I cracked a window open and started shooting. Several dogs went down before the rest ran off. But they didn't run too far.

It seems that their hunting instincts are taking a while to kick back in. Many of the dogs I see are emaciated after several weeks now of being on their own. They've scavenged what they could, but most of the bodies are pretty far gone now. The only good meat left now is in cans, or on the hoof. They can't open cans...

After a few minutes, the dogs returned to consume their former companions. I had no choice but to open fire again, because I really needed to get out of there, and I'd be stuck if I didn't kill those dogs. After going through about 100 rounds of .22, I was finally able to get to the Blazer. There are still some dogs around, but they've retreated to the tree line, or behind/under buildings. Anyways, I can make my escape from here.

10:20 AM. Stopped in the middle of nowhere due to a blowout on the trailer. Got the spare tire on now. I grabbed a can of beef stew from my stash, and I'll eat it as I travel. For some reason I just feel the need to put some distance between me and... Well I don't know what. I just need to move.

4:00 PM. I know the time only because I came across a Wal Mart. My watch died early this afternoon. For some reason I felt lost without it, so I pulled in here, grabbed my shotgun, a flashlight, and went inside. What a wreck. The place had been destroyed by looters. There were bodies in there, but whether they died from the disease or were killed in the mayhem I couldn't tell. I snagged a pack of watch batteries, some flashlight batteries and bulbs, and got the hell out of there. My watch is back on track now and I feel better. For some reason I feel the need to keep time. To keep the date. It's like the guy marooned on an island I guess, they always show them keeping track of the days.

6:30 PM. I've been seeing a huge black cloud creeping over the horizon this afternoon. I am approaching Beaumont, Texas, and I can only assume that it's coming from the refineries near there. I've stopped for the night, because I'm not in line with the plume, which I can imagine isn't too good for one's health. I'll rest up tonight, and try like hell for the Louisiana border tomorrow. It might be interesting getting through the Beaumont area, I can only imagine the wreckage blocking the roads there. It will be the first (formerly) heavily populated area I've had to go through. Tomorrow is likely to be a very long day.

March 20, 2012

2010-06-19T15:21:00.000-07:00

I woke this morning to the birds singing. It was almost deafening compared to the new quiet that has taken over the world. No airplanes, no traffic noise, none of the background hum of human activity that I had become accustomed to. Starting the Blazer these days is almost like setting off dynamite.

I filled my water tank and containers from the farmer's well this morning. It was not quite foggy, just that "morning mist" in the air, and it felt really strange. The air was still. All I heard was the birds, and the cows mooing in the distance. The occasional dog bark here and there. It's just too quiet.

The farm house was unlocked, so I decided to go inside to see if there was anything there I might need. Nothing much, really, but I did find an antique radio. The kind with vacuum tubes in it. I got no idea how I might power it up, but I put it in the Blazer just the same. I would really like to hear another human voice...

It's time to move on now, I've got to keep going. Sitting around will drive me insane. I see a diesel tank next to the barn, so I will top off my tank and go.

10:45 AM. Passing a row of houses along this country road, I thought I spotted some movement. I stopped, and looked around. Waiting. Hoping that I had seen someone. Nothing... Must have been my imagination.

12:00 PM. Stopped just shy of a small town to eat lunch. Chef Boyardee. I am getting tired of eating from a can. I would kill for some fresh meat or veggies. Maybe I will. Saw several deer along the road this morning. I know most of it would go to waste if I did kill one, but does it really matter now? Besides, the dogs and coyotes would finish it off I'm sure. Maybe I will shoot one.

1:30 PM. Eureka! I spotted a vegetable garden in a back yard. There was lettuce, cucumbers, radishes, carrots, and onions there. Lots. I washed the dirt off and ate three carrots right then and there. The rest I put in a laundry basket that was sitting on the back porch near the clothes line and loaded them in the Blazer. Fresh vegetables for the next few days.

6:30 PM. Decided to stop here in this gas station parking lot for the night. The place was pretty well looted out, but I did score three bags of beef jerky that had fallen behind a shelf (in the commotion, I imagine), and a couple candy bars. Interestingly, the beer cooler was about half full, as was a wine rack. Guess the looters only wanted food. I grabbed a twelve pack of beer and a couple bottles of wine. What the hell, might as well have a little something to take the edge off of me in the evenings. Those are the worst times, the evenings after I eat dinner. The silence and darkness is overwhelming. Many evenings I just sit, holding my rifle. I can hear the dogs, coyotes, and whatnot moving around in the blackness, and it makes me nervous. their footsteps, which might be 50 yards away or more, sound like they're right on top of me. I never realized just how dark the night was with no electric lights. Takes some getting used to.

Anyway, I shot a rabbit that was in the grass next to the gas station. Cleaned him and roasted him. There was charcoal in the gas station, and a grill in the camper. Sauteed up some onions and carrots in olive oil on the propane stove in the camper, and made a salad too. Tossed some olive oil on that as well. Pretty damn good eats after canned stuff for so long. Oh, the camper had a pretty good spice selection in it, and I seasoned that rabbit up good. Delicious! I think I will sleep well tonight after such a good meal.

March 19, 2012

2010-06-10T14:51:00.000-07:00

It was nice to sleep in the little camper, pretty comfortable. Much better than the small back seat in the Blazer, which is now full of food and gear. Even got to take a shower this morning, the 12 volt water pump in the camper still works and the battery has a charge. I'm going to transfer some of the gear out of the Blazer into the trailer before I hitch it up, then scour the campground for any food, fuel, or tools I might need. Right after I cook breakfast. Corned beef hash and powdered eggs, yum...

8:30 AM. I pulled two more 20 pound propane bottles off another trailer. Got excited when I found a short wave radio, but it's fried. So is the CB radio I found in another truck. I knew they would be, but I figured what the hell.

The camper is hitched up, and I'm ready to go. Spent ten minutes fooling with the trailer brake lights before I realized I was wasting my time.

12:15 PM. Stopped for lunch. Made 25 miles. It's a little slower going with the trailer, but the comfort factor makes it a good trade off for now. I will keep my eyes peeled for a good tent or something, just in case I need to ditch the trailer. I've seen nothing but dead cars, a few deer munching on someone's formerly manicured front lawn, the ever present packs of dogs, and a couple horses strolling down the road.

I did have to shoot a dog when I stopped for lunch. Guess the smell attracted him. He didn't attack, but he didn't look too friendly either. Throwing rocks at him didn't prove too much of a deterrent. It's a shame, he was a beautiful German Shepherd. But I can't take any chances. Back to the road now...

3:00 PM. Pulled into a small town. Dead quiet, except for the birds. The little grocery store was stripped bare, I'd imagine pretty quickly when the lights went out a few weeks ago. I did find a feed store, and fought the mice for a sack of corn. Found some seeds too, the few packages the mice and rats hadn't got too yet.

It's a pretty chaotic scene here, cars and trucks overturned, a hay trailer blocking the road... Almost looks like the town folk had barricaded the place for a "last stand". Against who, I don't know. No bodies in the street. Another of the thousands of mysteries I'll come across, and never know the answer to.

5:00 PM. Stopped at a farm house for the night. There's a well here, with a hand pump. A couple cows are out in the pasture grazing away like nothing ever happened. A cat is curled up on the porch rocking chair, almost like it's waiting for the farmer to come home. I'm going to fill up my water tank on the trailer, and whatever containers I might find around here, then call it a day.

March 18, 2012

2010-06-09T12:42:00.000-07:00

Woke up early this morning, right at sun-up. You'd never know anything had happened. The birds were singing, squirrels running this way and that. I gathered up all the canned food and loaded it into the Blazer. Should be a month's worth at least if I don't pig out. Also found two cases of bottled water, a 12 pack of iced tea in cans, and glory be, a bottle of George Dickel! Bless you Uncle.

I rummaged around in the shed and found a 5 gallon fuel jug, which I also tossed in the Blazer, a tool kit, a machete, bow saw and extra blade, an ax, charcoal lighter fluid, ten boxes of strike anywhere matches, a Coleman stove, and three bottles of propane for it. So I tossed a pot, frying pan, and some utensils in with the rest of the stuff.

I hate to leave here, but I can't stay. If my Uncle was alive, he'd be here. He's not. No point in staying then.

The question is: where to go? I think I will try to find the power plant. There are some high lines at the north end of the lake, I know because we went fishing there. I also know that I can take the back roads there, they should be pretty clear.

10:30 AM. Two hours, and 4 downed tree limbs later, I've found the high lines. Now which way? I've got a 50/50 chance....

12:00 PM. Stopped for lunch, cold soup in a can. Following the high lines has been tricky, but I've managed to keep them in sight most of the time. I hope I'm going the right way....

2:45 PM. I've come to a junction in the high lines. There's a substation. The high lines continue on, and another set taps off from the east, then dog-legs to the south east. This may be what I'm looking for.

4:30 PM. I found the power plant. It doesn't appear to be running, though it was not too long ago I suppose, though I don't know how. There's still steam coming out here and there. It is awfully quiet. I hooked the chain to the gate and the Blazer and pulled it down and out of the way. Inside the plant grounds, I found the body of one operator. Or what's left of it.

Surprisingly, I've seen several bodies of soldiers here as well, along with military vehicles. Whether they were National Guard, or regular Army I don't know. There is what appears to have been an officer in the control room, along with two more dead plant operators, and someone who might have been a manager or supervisor. Very strange... But now I see how the plant was still running, it's old. No electronic control systems. All mechanical dials, and pneumatic controls. I'm amazed it stayed running on it's own for as long as it did without any human input. It's a testament to dedicated maintenance and tuning I guess...

As a side note, I'm becoming numb to seeing the bodies. At first they made me sick to my stomach. I threw up several times last week. They don't seem to bother me now, and that worries me a bit.

Now what? Where to go. I can go any direction, but I haven't a clue as to which way I should go. What I do know is that I'm going to gather up the rifles and side arms from those soldiers, and whatever ammunition they have. I've got 500 rounds for the SKS, and about the same for my shotgun, but I think I'd better get what I can, when I can.

6:20 PM. I decided to head east. No particular reason. Found a small country store, and helped myself to the few cans of food that were left inside. Said a small prayer of thanks for the clerk who had died behind the counter. I'm sad to say that she hadn't died of the disease like the rest, she had been shot in the head. May she rest in peace....

7:15 PM. Pulled into a small campground for the night. There's a nice camper here, small and light, fairly new. What the hell, I might as well take it with me. Nobody is inside. Time for dinner and bed.

March 17, 2012

2010-06-09T11:57:00.000-07:00

St. Patty's Day. Sure wouldn't mind a green beer right about now. Slept well in the Blazer with the windows cracked open. Heard dogs roaming around several times in the night, sometimes fighting over..... I don't want to think about what they were probably fighting over.

I've got a pot of water on my mini alcohol stove from the bug out bag, and soon some Ramen noodles will be my breakfast. I ate the last cereal bar yesterday. Sure hope I come across some canned food today if I don't make it to the cabin.

Still no sign of anyone alive. Just the occasional dog, cat, and lots of turkey buzzards. Lots of turkey buzzards...

12:30 PM. I made pretty good time, covered 15 miles since I left at 8:00 this morning. One five mile stretch of road was so choked with cars and semis, I had to run in the bar ditch in 4 wheel drive. Stopped now to siphon some diesel off an 18 wheeler, and grab a quick bite. On a whim I checked out the cab of the 18 wheeler, and boy am I glad! I found 3 cans of soup, and 2 cans of baked beans. There was lunch meat and stuff in the little 'fridge in the sleeper, but it all spoiled weeks ago. Rancid... Anyways, I'm eating a can of beans.

2:30 PM. Had to go off roading again, this time through a pasture, because there was quite a pile-up on the road that had spilled out to the ditches. Just my luck, I found a piece of metal in my right front tire. After spending an hour looking for something to put under the jack to keep it from sinking into the soft dirt, I found an old board. Spare tire is on now. Ten miles to go...

6:00 PM. I made it. Unfortunately, no one is here. No one is anywhere...

There must have been a hell of a storm here yesterday, lots of fallen trees and power lines. Several times I had to break out the chain that was in the Blazer and pull fallen trees or branches off the road. Amazingly, one of the downed power lines was still hot, and sparking all over the road, so I had to detour around it. I guess those power plants are automated enough to keep running for a while. Or maybe there is someone still alive? That thought is what I will have to run with. I can't be the only one.

The cabin is still intact. There's no power, but my uncle has lanterns, fuel, candles, etc. He also stocked the cupboards pretty well. Guess this place was too remote for the police to come confiscate his food. Or maybe that didn't happen here, I don't know. I may never know.

What I do know is there's a half dozen other cabins on this back road, and they're all empty. Not a soul around. There is a truck in front of one about a half mile down, but I cringe at what I'll find there. Let's just say there's no signs of life and leave it at that.

Tonight I am thankful, because I've got food, warm shelter, and a comfortable bed. In the morning, I will load everything up in the Blazer and set out in search of life. There must be someone else out there.

Something New

2010-06-07T14:38:00.000-07:00

I got this blog just sittin' here... I only created it because my link list was getting too unwieldy, so I moved all the prepper network sites over here. Anyways, I had me an idea...

Being the creative bugger that I am, another story idea came to me. So I figgered, why not put it here! Might as well, since the blog is already here. It's gonna be.... Well, you'll find out when I do! Ha ha! Anyways, unlike my Captain Jack story, I've got a title for this: One.

March 16, 2012

It's been three weeks since I've seen another person. Alive, that is. What I have seen is bodies. More than I care to think about right now. They're everywhere...

This morning I got lucky and found an old Chevy Blazer that actually started! It's one of those military surplus vehicles somebody bought for... well maybe for this. It's a rattle trap, and smokes like crazy, but it beats the hell out of walking. And it may have saved my life. Even though there's no people (as far as I know), there are plenty of animals. It seems they were immune to whatever it was that that swept this town. The county. And I think the whole state.

So I started this journal to document... whatever the hell has happened. Just in case I don't make it either. Maybe someone will find this journal, and they'll know what happened. Or they'll know what I saw anyways, because I'm still not sure what happened.

What I do know is that six weeks ago there was a massive coronal mass ejection from the sun. Everything went dead. No electricity, no cars, no phones, no radio... The first day there was confusion, panic, looting (of course). But nothing real bad. That came toward the end of the first week, when the food ran out. Local officials had the grocery stores and the corner stores blocaded and guarded, and all the non-perishables moved to a warehouse. Stuff that would spoil was loaded into coolers, packed in ice, and distributed to people kind of like we heard about the old Soviet Union. You know, stand in line for a few slices of bread.

After the first week, people began accusing others of "hoarding" food in their pantries, and the police started searching homes for canned food, bottled water, and other items folks might have "too much" of. The warehouse quickly emptied that first week, and the perishables were pretty much gone in the first three days, so I guess the mayor and police chief decided to search homes and "redistribute" any "hoarded" items to avoid panic.

We never did see the National Guard, or FEMA, or any of those people who are supposed to respond to emergencies. I guess transportation was an issue for them as well.

The really bad stuff started happening in the second week. People started getting sick. Really sick. The doctors said it was because of the lack of sanitation, as in no sewer system, and no water treatment. But when they started dieing too, that's when I began to think there was something more going on than "lack of sanitation".

People got very high fevers. They went into convulsions. They threw up blood. Their bodies were covered in sores. Three days after they showed the first symptoms, they were dead. The doctors and nurses died too. Hell, everyone died!

Me, I stayed holed up at my place. It was on the outside of town, I had a well and septic system. And I was a "prepper". One of those people who "hoarded" food, water, etc. My wife and I.... Jenny. She's gone now. She died the same horrible death as everyone else. Why the hell was I spared?! Oh God....

They came and took our stores, and wanted to arrest us for "failing to render aid". That was bull crap, because Jenny and I were doing everything we could to help our neighbors out. But the cops, and their new "deputies", they took everything. Even squash that had barely begun to grow in our garden. They asked if I had any weapons. All I had visible was my Grandpa's Winchester, and they took it too. The rest of my guns and ammunition were stashed under the floor in the shed, and I thank God for that.

They didn't arrest me, mostly because the jail was already full of looters. The next day Jenny fell ill, and she told me to go. She begged me to go. I refused. Two days later she died in my arms.

Hungry and grief stricken, I packed up what supplies I could carry, grabbed my bug out bag (which the thieves from the city had not taken) and headed out to the north, toward my uncle's place on the lake, about 60 miles away.

I am half way there now, after four days on foot. The going has been really tough. Roads are heaped with wrecked and dead vehicles, packs of now wild dogs are everywhere... Twice I was attacked by packs of four or five dogs, desperately hungry for something fresh, I'm sure. I killed them with my SKS rifle. So glad I bought that semi automatic, if I had a bolt action I'd be dead.

Anyways, I'm low on food and water, and only half way to my destination. So you can see why finding the Blazer is a Godsend. I've stopped for the night, and for the first time in four days I can sleep securely here in the Blazer. I couldn't sleep in someone's house. Mostly because I'd have to drag the bodies out first. But even then, I just couldn't sleep there.

Hopefully tomorrow will find me at my Uncle's cabin at the lake. Hopefully tomorrow will find him there as well.....

Prepper's Networks

2009-07-20T14:08:00.000-07:00

This is simply to make keeping up with the prepper networks easier for myself, and for y'all who come here as well...