The Wayward Axe: Old Preppers Die Hard

By Ron Foster

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

This special omnibus edition includes the following three apocalyptic books from the Old Preppers Die Hard series.

An Old Man and His Axe
Doing the Apocalypse Shuffle
Shadows Of Sanity And Survival

At 668 pages this book will keep you busy and entertained but at a fast easy pace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ron Foster
• Release date: May 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533791061

Ron Foster

Southern author, Ron Foster has shared his vast knowledge in a large library of books about survival and preparedness, both fiction and nonfiction. He is best known for his "prepper fiction"- Even his fiction books are loaded with survival and self sufficiency techniques that one can learn from. Ron Foster's knowledge in his field is extensive and has well prepared him for writing about survival in a post-apocalyptic world, where society has broken down. He has had many competencies in his background including, being a Gemologist (diamond and colored stone appraiser), an Investment Banker, an Army Soldier and an Air Force Airman. Other skills landed him as a Corporate Administrator and Entrepreneur in many different capacities. Ron has also received a Bachelor of Science Degree from Empire State College in Human Services, with a specialty in Emergency Management Administration and Planning, at the age of 50. He has a Masters of Administrative Science (MAS) Degree from Fairleigh Dickinson University with seven graduate certificates. Certifications include: Alabama Emergency Managers Association (Certified Emergency Manager), National Association Of Safety Professionals (Certified Emergency Management Specialist), FEMA Professional Development Certificate Series awarded. Graduate Certificates in: Administrative Science, Emergency Management Administration, Global Security and Terrorism Studies Certificate, Displaced Persons Certificate, School Security & Safety Administration Certificate, Law and Public Safety Administration, and Non Profit Organization and Management. He also holds a Masters of Science Degree from Capella University in Human Services. Read one book written by Ron Foster, and you'll want to read more. You'll be sure to enjoy, and you'll have a few tricks up your sleeve when your done! Tricks that could save your life.

Book preview

Ron Foster

Alabama, USA

© 2016 by Ron Foster

All rights reserved.

––––––––

Printed in the United States of America.

Acknowledgements

SILVER STAG BRAND KNIVES

http://www.silverstagknives.com/

––––––––

––––––––

SILVER FIRE ROCKET STOVES

http://www.silverfire.us/

––––––––

Lil Trucker | Innovation Factory

––––––––

INNOVATION FACTORY

http://liltrucker.com/

1

The Wild Ride

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

––––––––

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

––––––––

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2

MARCHING DOWN THE AVENUE

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

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

What the hell am