Two Old Men Too Old To Die

By Ron Foster

Two old farts surviving a grid-down apocalypse by fate or chance, or could be rotten luck according to their bickering, find themselves bound by circumstance of survival to live out their days together. Bad luck seems to be a daily occurrence for all in this apocalypse of no food, no water, but add to it a hurricane, pandemic and old age and two grumpy old men and you have a story of resilience and humor sure to entertain you in a quarantine. An old Japanese restaurant owner and a backwoods Alabama redneck can't say it was a lucky star that caused them to cross paths or according to Walt a damnable one-legged seagull, but good times are ahead for all through this bug-out romp to a Florida beach house to retire to. Beach bums Inc. they called themselves if they had to die grid down it wasn't going to be in a forest chasing squirrels but surf-fishing and oyster gathering on the Gulf coast. Come with this unlikely odd couple pair as they overcome a changed world of hurricanes, pandemics and food shortages. A humorous attempt at giving you plausible survival skills, entertainment and a chance at a new life as the over 60 crowd does a dance with the devil outlasting young bucks. They might be old but they meet older folks along the way that seem to be doing the same thing they are doing and the required knowledge to do the same rests in older heads. Apocalypse now less the grey hairs and don't mess with old men and women or they will kill you : ). A mysterious but well-known forgotten island paradise awaits not far from shore a gaggle of elderly misfits dream of going to but the problem is no lights, no boat, no motor car, they were as lonely as they could be but this band of misfit travelers soon convince some young folks to join up and come see.

 

THIS BOOK CONTAINS THREE BOOKS OF THE SENIOR SURVIVAL SERIES  "OUR END OF THE LINE" SEA SHELLS AND SHOT SHELLS"  "ROAD TO NOWHERE"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ron Foster
• Release date: Apr 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393373117

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.

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Ron Foster

Alabama, USA

© 2018 by Ron Foster

All rights reserved.

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Printed in the United States of America

Acknowledgements

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Woods Stalkers

Walt studied the little pond in back of the small country hotel and wondered if he had what he called The sense God Gave a Goat in his southern vernacular to even be here today. Times were tough ever since the grid went down and it was either go out foraging and scavenging or try to extend the trap line that wasn’t producing like it should. He was a lonely and unhappy anomaly in this grid down world, a man who was known by a neighbor or two to have predicted this mess they were in and prepared for it somewhat, but all that meant was that they knew where to come ask for a handout after it actually happened. He was what was known as one of those survivalist types, conspiracy theorist or something.

He had warned them all many times that he didn’t have much to share and that they should have prepared for themselves when he had advised them to do so previously but that concept hadn’t stuck on this poor end of the road and folks basically had done nothing to prepare for this calamity.  The only blessings he had gotten back from of all his carefully worded admonishments and preparedness advisements that they should do something for themselves before this crap happened was for them to know to come knock on his door and ask what should they do now and did he have any extra food to spare. Well, that wasn’t his only blessing: nobody had tried to rob him yet, they respected him too much, probably because they were scared he would shoot them but somehow his continued helpful nature had kept their desperation at bay for now because they had guns too.

He shared a lot of what he had in his food preps initially and he told them a bit about what he would try to do to help them further if they helped him some and for a time it sufficed before the local game thinned to nothing and folks started looking like they would kill him for a biscuit they thought he might have had hidden out. Walt had spent many a sleepless tossing and turning night pondering what was next in this apocalyptic world and had dug into his bag of half remembered woodsman and prepper tricks but the community was dying. Wasn’t much of a community, wasn’t a tribe or anything, only three households on the end of a road that seem to depend on him entirely too much.

At the beginning of this disaster, he had the juice, both figuratively and literally to apply his knowledge and preps to the tasks of survival at hand but these were dying days and he was giving out more than he received in support to do the task. Being alone and on your own sucked during the apocalypse, Walt didn’t have a mate or a family. Oh, everyone was friendly towards him and committed enough at first to let the old prepper homesteader guide them along in this transition from grid up to long-term grid down but when his pantry was empty and his traps didn’t produce, his usefulness suffered as well as his security and popularity in this small seemingly getting more selfish community as times got harder.

He had remembered an old odd red brick rural motel from passing it a bazillion times and he was always wondering how it stayed open and wondering what kind of guests it attracted as just part of the real estate he passed coming and going to town. That it had a landscaped rectangular fish pond visible from the highway set in back of it behind a rusted old barb wire fence had always intrigued him and made the fisherman in him wonder what was in those still seemingly forgotten farmland waters. On more than one occasion he had noted the white feathers evidencing a duck or two hanging out on the lawn beyond the fence of this probable illicit rendezvous for broke married  lovers  but that speculation made no sense because you could see the entire parking lot from the road if you got out this far. Still and all it was an old farm pond that might have fish still in it and if nobody had thought about collecting the occasional passing or domesticated duck out of it for dinner then  it warranted his attention to investigate and use some of his precious gas up today.

He had gotten up this morning as a man focused on a mission, he had told his neighbor who had a wife and three kids of his intentions in hopes of having some more intel on this place but he got no answers and only questions on what should they do if he didn’t return.

The idea was, Walt explained, for him to string his trotline across what appeared to be a disused pond using some dough bait made from a bit of salt, water and flour and see if any catfish or bream were present. Food was short and this was the only new short term solution he could think of.

He and his friend Thomas had speculated on the chances of any fish remaining in it and the hazards of such a journey and it went something like this.

Walt started the conversation up by inquiring who had owned that run down place which neither one could answer, other than agree the nonpolitically correct statement that it was probably India Indians who had taken over most of the formerly white southern generationally owned service stations and country stores dotting this stretch of highway.

Walt didn’t have anything personal against the new inclusion of foreign owners other than him reminiscing about missing the old country boy and girl familiarity of old times and good people and for that matter neither did Thomas except for the newcomers upping prices as soon as they took over and us residents of the old south saying hold on now or we will boycott until they acquiesced to a more gentile understanding of poor folks and the ways of southern living around here.

The reason race or ownership of the hotel came up at all was the question of if either one of them thought the owners would still be there. That hotel was right directly on the highway and for the life of both of them they pretty much considered that surely those folks had to have moved on or been starved out of there by now.

What about that Dim Sum Asian restaurant up the road? That thing has to be picked cleaner than a road kill with a flock of buzzards watching over it by now. Walt offered in regard to what might be left to pilfer these days.

I wouldn’t waste my time on it at all, a few leftover packs of soy sauce ain’t worth the risk or gas to go poking about there. Thomas advised.

You going to stay home here and help watch my house for me? Walt asked.

I would rather go out and run your trap line if I can locate all your sets but I can stay around here and send the boy out to do that. You sure you really want to waste your gas on that old pond Walt? Thomas said studying the smirking wily man.

It’s not a case of I want to but I have to, bud, the trapping sets are yours if I don’t make it back in one piece but I still got crap that I would miss if them thieving neighbors up the road see me leaving out today and leaving my house unguarded. I am going to put my trust in you to keep them out of my shit until I return ok? Walt said extending his hand.

Good luck to you, brother. Thomas said and clasped old Walt’s hand in agreement and farewell.

Now it was all on him, no excuses, no worries. Time for him to go shout at the devil and greet what may make it back home, Walt figured, as he pulled into the empty hotels parking lot. He cautiously eyed every window for signs of life and did a brief slow tour of both sides of the building with his van. Not satisfied with that, he pulled back out on the highway and reconned the area further from that vantage point before deciding to park on the side of the road and walk up on it from a distance.

Seemed all clear to his eyes and senses but he was being extra careful. He had a light daypack he brought with his burglar and foraging tools in it and his beloved trusty Henry .22 caliber carbine. A lot of folks would say that wasn’t gun enough to be toting around in the apocalypse but Walt was confidant and competent with using it. He trusted the rifles finely American made turned rifle barrel steel accuracy enough to take aim and bust an aspirin to dust at 25 yards if need be, Yea I said an aspirin, his daddy had said to him as a young boy when he had practiced with his first Daisy 880 bb/pellet gun that accomplishing that kind of feat was what a true marksman was.  He had spent countless hours practicing to achieve such a high pinnacle of performance with an air gun and this had made him confident that there were not too many things that moved on earth that couldn’t be taken down by his unerring eye when he had put the same practice in with the beautiful walnut stocked lever action .22.

He crept through the brush line on the side of the road and watched impatiently the seemingly abandoned building. Sitting and waiting was not his long suit but it had paid off in aces for him many times when stalk hunting deer was the wrong thing to do. He saw the squirrels that had noticed his approach and had hid themselves only to come out later and he carefully noted which trees they were in for later dinner pot additions if the trotline didn’t work. He debated checking the hotel for scraps of anything but had discarded the notion as probably futile as the sun shifted to show the broken in glass on the office front door.

Apparently, this place was abandoned and he gathered his gear to make his way surreptitiously to the small pond to lay out his fishing trotline and try his luck. He got a Gerber baby food jar out to bait his hooks with his flour mixture it contained and enjoyed the stillness of the woods as he contemplated how best to lay out his line.

What the hell! There was still a duck left here happily paddling on the far side of the pond! Duck dinner? Yum!!! Walt said to himself getting ready for the hunting stalk but that booger was pretty far off and he paused to think about it.

I wonder how tame that fool duck is? Probably it is most likely scared of its own shadow by now. Walt said to himself considering that as far as he could see no other birds were present and had probably been taken long ago by other hunters and starving survivors.

Damn duck, he had quit following the shoreline and instead was now venturing out towards the middle of the pond ostensibly going to the other side. Well, I will wait for him to get all the way over there. I got to retrieve him once I shoot him and I am not sure at all what else lives in that pond! Walt thought thinking there might be a Florida gator lurking just under the water in there somewhere with a shudder.

Walt took this time to hurriedly run for the shore while the duck appeared to be distracted. He knew that he was going to be seen anyway by this feathered fiend he wanted for dinner but if he acted like he didn’t acknowledge the ducks’ presence directly it should remain in the water and feel safe.

Paddle, paddle, the duck nonchalantly headed towards the reeds on the far shore.

Come on now, I ain’t getting in that snaky looking shit to retrieve your fat carcass. Walt thought as the duck momentarily disappeared from sight in some aquatic weeds.

The duck then poked its head out of the reeds and paddled furiously, evidently chasing a minnow as Walt took a bead on it closing in on the muddy shore. BANG! The sound of his shot rang out and he was off running as fast he could towards the opposite bank to collect his bounty. Walt had no sooner waded out to his knees to secure the no longer flapping duck than a voice from the woods hollered for him to drop the duck.

Walt crouched down and made himself small on the ponds bank and hollered back, It’s my duck! Get your own! when a shot rang out clipping the reeds a foot above his head

With nothing more to do than save his own ass, Walt grabbed the oversized leather covered lever on his Henry rifle and sent a beehive of .22 rounds in the general direction of where he thought that the shot had come from and then lit out like blue streak of lightning, duck in hand for the safety of a majestic oak next to a picnic table not far from his vantage point.

Check Fire! Nobody shoot! A voice hollered out from the woods in front of him before he started scrambling on his knees and crabbing his way quickly to seek better cover to his left.

What are you shooting at, Mike? the voice hollered out.

Guy has got my duck!! his original nemesis hollered back angrily.

Walt low crawled further on and studied where his aggressor’s voices had come from.

Hey stranger, leave the duck and I will leave you alone. a voice called out gruffly.

Don’t say nothing, reload and rethink this situation and I should be able to crawl my way out of here. Who the hell are these people anyway? Walt muttered to himself as he cussed his luck and the mosquito swarm that was intent on making him give up his position.

Walt would have made a lizard proud as he wriggled for cover at light speed and then remained still waiting and listening for sounds from his pursuers.

All was quiet until a voice rang out saying it was all a mistake and that they wouldn’t bother him anymore.

Like hell, Walt wasn’t studying relying on that and caught sight of a boonie hat brim moving some weeds next to a big pine in the distance.

Time for him to play back in Saigon, the old Vietnam vet thought, having been in a tangle or two like this before and wishing one of his old brothers in arms was with him to take on this group. What to do? What to do? My damn duck! You all want to learn to duck bullets? Walt thought as he took a bead on that boonie hat and contemplated pulling the trigger.

Just leave friend! Go about your business. My men won’t shoot no more! a voice sounding like an old Army sergeant hollered out

In a pig’s eye I believe you, buddy but maybe I got lucky this time and they have decided it ain’t worth a fight! Walt considered.

Ain’t no way I can sky out of here with that group of apaches eying my rear end and maybe sending some hot lead my way. Maybe he means it but I prefer taking my chances right here. Sounded like an AR rifle was shooting at me, who has got AR’s roaming the woods these days? Friggin’ preppers most likely or country boys with a gun collection and a feud going on, either way the idea is for me to get out of here alive and with this dang duck firmly in my possession if I can. Why isn’t there anything to throw near you when you need it? Walt pondered trying to think of a way to test their resolve against not shooting at him or distracting them some way by flinging a rock or something in the bushes away from his position.

The way I see it, everyone is out after everybody else’s hide and I kind of like mine without holes in it. Mr. Boonie hat I am not going to try to get you or scare you with a close shot this time, I am just going to slither on out of here and haul ass once I get me a few more trees between us! Walt decided before taking off like a banshee wanted his liver.

Walt rounded the corner of the old hotel his boots just a flying and took cover in the cement block enclosures for the facility’s dumpster to look back warily at his would be murderers.

You no shoot me! An Asian voice squawked fearfully from behind him.

You no shoot me either! Walt said flinching and seeing what looked like a big Colt Python .357 revolver pointing around the far side of the dumpster in his direction. That’s all Walt saw just the gun and the hand holding it.

You go find another hiding place cowboy! This place mine! A smallish Japanese man said, poking his head out from behind that huge gun.

I would be glad to leave but those people chasing me ought to be coming out of that wood line soon and  I don’t fancy running out in the open with all that firepower they got pointed in my direction. Hey, you mind pointing that hand cannon of yours somewhere else, you’re affecting my bladder. Walt said anxiously.

Why you no let crazy men have duck? The oriental man said lowering his weapon hesitantly.

Because that duck is my dinner and I ain’t had anything that good to eat in a couple of months. Walt said looking down at the bloody white feathers on the carcass next to his feet.

Duck not worth fighting over and getting shot. You holler at them you give them duck and maybe they leave us alone, cowboy. The disheveled little man said with a thick accent.

I ain’t no dang cowboy, I am from Alabama and how did this turn into a we situation? Walt said angrily scanning the woods to his right thinking that was where that war party was holed up at.

You got hat like cowboy and apron pants with shoulder straps on, so I call you cowboy!  The man remarked still peering at him from the other side of the dumpster.

These are overalls I got on, BIB OVERALLS! Walt spluttered indignantly.

And this is a straw hat with Indian beads and turquoise on the brim. Walt added.

I sorry, you Indian, no wonder you no like to be called cowboy. The man whispered back.

No, I ain’t no Indian either! You just stay over on your side of the garbage can and hush, China man! Walt said disgustedly and went back to watching the wood line for possible pursuers.

You Wrong! I no Chinese, I am Japanese! Why rednecks always want to call everyone with slanted eyes Chinese? My name Yoshi! The man offered.

My names Walt and I don’t like being called redneck either. What are you doing hiding back here anyway? Walt said exasperated with this little inscrutable character and that giant pistol of his.

I hiding same as you! First I hide from you and now I hide from them. Why don’t you give them duck and we all go home? Yoshi asked once again.

They ain’t getting that dang duck! I told you that already! I worked too hard for it and besides who is to say they would actually leave us alone and let us go anyway if I did? Walt said angrily.

Throw it out in open and tell them we leave. Yoshi offered hopefully.

Look I ain’t going to tell you again, I ain’t giving up this duck and that’s that. You any good with that rocket launcher of a pistol you got? Walt said eying the large bulky pistol that seemed way to big for the man’s hands or someone of his stature to fire effectively.

I ok with it, how about you and that cowboy rifle? Yoshi said with a grin.

You are either bound and determined to piss me off or you got it in for cowboys. Walt said dryly.

I watch lot of westerns and they always carry them lever crank guns. Yoshi said not put off a bit about the stranger’s ire it seemed.

You’re a persnickety son of a bitch, aren’t you? It’s called a lever action. Watch out we got us some movement! Walt said seeing Mr. Boonie hat easing out of the wood line and began drawing a bead on the side of his head.

Hey, stranger, you move on then we will move on! The man called out.

They going to let you keep duck. Yoshi said starting to move out from behind the dumpster.

Get back in here fool! Could be a trap, oh shit they saw you. Walt said as another man came out of the woods and said something to boonie hat wearer.

Look my man got a little anxious about you and that duck dinner. We mean you no harm and we are leaving out now! Just go on about your business! The man said and made a hand gesture to the man next to him and evidently some unseen ones in back of him to go back into the woods.

We go now yes? Yoshi said.

Not quite yet, I still don’t trust them. Walt replied now looking around in different directions to make sure someone wasn’t sneaking up on them.

I think they go. Yoshi said ready to get out their stinky hiding place as soon as possible.

Better safe than sorry. What brings you around here? Walt asked taking a moment to study him better.

I live here, well sort of. I used to know owners and they give me key before leaving. Yoshi responded.

Anybody else live here? Walt said scrutinizing the dilapidated abandoned red motel for signs of life.

No just me, you might say that’s my duck that you shot today. I been trying to get him with a fishing pole for months. Yoshi confided.

Ha! I bet that was a sight to see. I guess you knew what would happen if you shot him with that .357. Walt said chuckling at the mental picture of Yoshi being left with nothing but a pile of feathers if he had.

Yea, pistol no good for duck gun. You give me ride maybe, stranger? Yoshi inquired bright eyed and hopeful.

Where to?  Your car short on gas? Walt asked regarding him closely.

Don’t have no car, no good men rob Yoshi, steal car from him months ago. Yoshi said and went on to tell him the story about how some looters had surprised him at his restaurant up the road and took his car and all the food they could load in it and left him stranded. He had walked up here to get some help just as the owners were about to leave and had been trying to live here ever since.

Wow, they really did leave you in a fix! What have you been eating all this time? Walt asked incredulously.

Mostly fish and rice, that pond had some fish in it but not many and they were smart fish. The robbers didn’t get all my food. I had a few bags of rice stored in the utility closet that got overlooked and had this gun in my office so at least I got left with something. Yoshi bemoaned.

Daaaaamnnn! You have had it rough, my friend. Where do you want to go? I guess it ain’t safe around here for you either anymore with them wood rats skulking about. Walt said still watching the pond and trees.

I trying to figure that out, maybe Yoshi leave for awhile and come back they be gone. Yoshi said with that odd accented English of his.

Well, my vans parked up the road close by and I only live about 15 minutes from here. Why don’t me and you have us a duck dinner and decide what we should do with you. Walt said extending his hand for a shake that was happily but cautiously received.

That sound great cowboy, urr, Walt. You think safe now? I have small bag of rice and other things I need to get. Won’t take a minute, I hurry chop, chop. Yoshi said and stepped out of their hiding place carefully with Walt holding his rifle at the ready still looking for possible trouble.

The pair scurried over to the hotel and Yoshi unlocked one of the rooms door and they went inside hurriedly.

I have bed roll all ready for day like this. You know what even worse about being stuck here? All I have for extra clothes is Japanese waiter uniforms! Yoshi said chuckling opening a closet that had several sets hanging up inside.

Man, talk about someone having a bad day! Walt said eying the tuxedo looking formal attire that Yoshi explained was all the clothes he had managed to find in his restaurant when he got stranded here.

I don’t have any pants to fit you but I may have a few shirts so you don’t have to wear white all the time. Come on, this is taking way too long and I want to be off before them boys think it’s maybe safe to approach this place soon. Walt said hurrying him along to gather up his stuff.

About duck, you know how to cook good? Yoshi asked as they exited the room.

Not as good as you could probably cook it, you want to do the honors and fix it? Walt asked thinking that he might be getting some exotic cuisine served to him out of this deal.

Me, no! I own restaurant, I no cook in them! Yoshi said laughing and ending Walt’s dreams of a beautifully prepared succulent crisp skinned duck with oriental seasonings.

Dang Yoshi, you going to make me cook it and clean it, I guess. Walt said complaining it was bad enough he had to hunt it and defend it.

I help you pluck duck but I never even cut up chicken in American size pieces before. Yoshi said apologetically.

You just a lost helpless poor puppy dog of a soul aren’t you, Yoshi.  Hey, be less obvious and stay out of the road and try to walk close to the woods, we ain’t out of danger yet in my opinion. Walt advised as they proceeded to walk towards his van.

Damn boy you are indeed a sorry sight, you don’t even have a holster for that monster silver gun of yours either, I guess. Walt said eying him and trying to figure out exactly what he had done to get that white dress shirt of his that odd green color.

No holster and it too big and heavy to put in belt. Yoshi said sweating trying to keep up with the long legged stranger.

Yoshi, what did you do to change the color of that shirt? Walt asked slowing down a little to allow the smaller man a chance to catch up with him.

Oh, you like my artwork? That green colored pencil I find, take me forever to color it in over a couple days. Yoshi said with a grin.

I would of rubbed it in the grass or something. Walt commented getting a mental picture of the man studiously trying to color it in one line at a time sitting in his hotel room.

Tried that, was way too itchy. That your van? Yoshi said looking ahead.

Yea that’s it and because this is a rare day and we have had such a close call to getting shot I am going to waste some gas and turn on the air conditioner. Walt said dripping sweat himself.

Ah Air-conditioning! Too long now I have dreamed of such a wonderful thing again. Come on long legs I ready for some! Yoshi said and picked up the pace. .

2

Safe And Sound

Yoshi and Walt basked in the coolness of the air blowing full speed once the van cooled down and rode towards Walt’s homestead.

Yoshi, we got us a problem here when we get home. We got us hungry neighbors and only one duck that I don’t have a mind at all to share with anyone but you. Walt said pondering the problem of keeping that delectable morsel a secret.

Will they try to make you share? Yoshi said concerned some famished strangers wouldn’t appreciate his extra mouth to feed either.

No, but we normally share the hunt communally and they knew I was going out today. I was hoping to be able to trotline some fish out of that pond of yours. I will just tell them I run into trouble and a bit about how we met up without mentioning that duck. Walt advised.

I say nothing about duck but they smell it cooking. Yoshi said pointedly.

Maybe not, I have a solar cooker. Walt said with a grin.

Sun cooker? I hear of these things but never try. Yoshi said as they turned on the rural county road leading to Walt’s house.

Well, it will take the rest of the afternoon at low heat to cook it through but it will be worth it. I am starving right now but I guess we can use the time to talk about the fix you’re in and figure out what else we are going to have for dinner. Man, I am ready for a feast! Did you remember to grab that big bottle of soy sauce you had on the desk? I still got some honey and mixed with some of that sauce it is about the closest thing I can do to make something like that oriental duck I wanted you to cook. Walt said.

Yes I bring, you have garden? I can make rice stuffing? I say I no cook like chef, not that I couldn’t cook. Yoshi advised being rather handy in a kitchen but not like Walt had been thinking.

I never had rice stuffing before, sounds good, yes I have one, what do you need, onion? Walt asked.

Yes I show you. Wish I had Sake but bar empty. Yoshi said.

You never went back to your restaurant after you left? Walt asked.

Oh yea they not get everything, I use hotel riding lawnmower to get some things but not much left. Oh! I have fortune cookies for dessert in bed roll! Yoshi said excitedly.

Ha! I can’t wait to read our fortunes! Walt said with a grin at the irony of finding Yoshi.

Hey, when we get to the house try to keep that cannon of yours put up. Folks ain’t used to strangers wandering around carrying giant pistols if you know what I mean. Walt advised.

I be careful and not wave around. How many people live near you? Yoshi asked.

Well, Thomas and his family are the only ones you might see. There are five of them in the family. The other neighbors we don’t really associate with very often and I am unsure how many are still left. Maybe eight or ten more live or used to live on my road. Starvation, disease, hunting accidents, etc. might have thinned them out pretty good by now. No telling really. They leave me alone, I leave them alone best we can. Thomas and I live on the dead end of the road and have us a mutual defense pact about strangers and neighbors coming around. Walt advised.

My house is in Vernon about 30 miles from my restaurant. It in small gated residential area, nothing there for me now. I doubt people living there could survive this long with no food or gas. Yoshi said with a sigh. It might as well be a hundred miles and not having any transportation made it highly likely he couldn’t even ever return there just to get some clothes that would fit him, he figured.

So no family then? Walt asked curiously.

No, wife die three year ago and we not have many friends. Her English wasn’t good so hard to make friend and we stay to ourselves, speak Japanese. Have distant relatives in Panama City own big Japanese steak house but too far to go and not know how they do these days. Yoshi said explaining that his house was 38 miles in one direction to the beach and 35 miles in opposite direction for him to drive to work over this way from.

Yoshi, we pretty much just exist best we can by ourselves here one day to the next and try to stay close to home and keep our heads down and try to avoid trouble. We are off the main road far enough to not get any interest from roving bands of food raiders, ain’t nothing around here for them to steal anyway and not much else to interest them much risking a dead-end road. You will notice on the way home that it’s just pretty much scattered old farm houses on a few acres and if you’re lucky someone might have a backyard garden maybe. I don’t know how long any of them folks still living around here can hold out. Not many could have held out at the first very long anyway, even if they had seeds for a garden. Nobody has chickens or goats or anything anymore that I know of. Deer are about all hunted out around here, there are not too many squirrels left in the woods either unless you range far afield in your hunting and foraging, least ways ones you will see. They are gun and people shy as hell now. Me and Thomas hunt rabbits mostly on the side of the interstate which is about a 20 minute walk through the woods from my place. Well part woods, part clear cut wasteland looking. Not a lot of woods are left down that way on this side of the road anymore, pine beetles got to a lot of them a year or two ago and who ever owned those bigger pieces of acreage clear cut them to the ground awhile back. Scrub oaks, piles of partly burnt wood and branches that look like a red dirt burnt moonscape. Damn Yoshi, in my rush to leave I forgot to ask you if there is any toilet paper in that hotel I could have! Walt said.

There some, not a whole lot paper. The owners didn’t spend lot of money or they just bought TP in bulk when they needed to, I guess. I have key to storage room if want to go back and get some. Yoshi said uncertain if that was even worth considering at this point with the army men around.

We can talk about the possibility of that more later, won’t be long until we will be at my house in a few minutes. Walt said and went back to watching the houses on the side of the road for signs of life.

What caliber your rifle, Walt? Yoshi asked eying the blued barrel poking up between the seats between them.

Twenty two. Walt responded giving it’s beautiful wood stock a pat.

I thought so, but it don’t sound right. Not loud enough; You using special ammo? Yoshi asked commenting on how quiet it was when fired.

"No special ammo; I had it loaded with shorts. It holds 16 shorts or 12 long rifles.

I never hear of short. How is bullet shorter than .22? Yoshi inquired.

Walt fished around in the front pocket of the bib on his overalls and handed Yoshi some .22 cartridges.

Check it out, Yoshi, the bullets are not shorter, the brass case is. I don’t have any longs to show you but they fit somewhere in the middle of a short and a long rifle bullet in cartridge length. When I was kid we used to get the shorts for only 50 cents a box and the longs used to cost around a dollar. That’s one reason they were so popular with us kids, that and we knew trappers liked them because they didn’t spoil the pelts or meat as bad as a more powerful round. Twenty two short is plenty of power for coons, possums etc. and a big advantage that I find in these grid down times is that they are a lot quieter than a long rifle round. They don’t do that sonic crack like a high velocity long rifle. They make about as much sound when fired as a pellet gun or bb rifle going off. I kind of like to not advertise my presence too much if I can help it, if you know what I mean. Walt said loving the variety of .22 bullets his carbine could chamber and fire flawlessly unlike most automatic hunting rifles.

Walt, you crazy man! You telling Yoshi you were shooting itty bitty small-time bullets at dangerous army redneck men! You need big man’s gun for big danger! Yoshi complained while holding up that big Cadillac sized chrome or nickel plated .357 Magnum pistol of his.

Walt laughed at his statement of needing a big man’s gun like his and informed Yoshi they could debate that later, meantime his driveway was coming up and they were home.

Thomas was sitting on his picnic table when he came in the driveway and the man rose slowly to greet him. Walt smirked to himself, Thomas’s country boy ass wasn’t going to understand  one little bit at first who or what Yoshi was and that fully loaded big shiny  boat anchor of a pistol he always had in his hand was sure to give him fits about his safety and sanity.

Thomas was indeed very surprised and perplexed to see Walt had himself a passenger with him and he was even more confused to see that the man was Asian and carrying a giant pistol with enough highly polished chrome on it to cover a car bumper. Walt enjoyed his friends’ nervousness and confusion momentarily as Thomas was studiously looking at him for any subtle body language clues and then going back to visually sizing up the little man with the big gun before Walt got around to giving his greetings and introducing his new friend.

Hey, Thomas! Everything going all right around here? Walt asked like it was an everyday occurrence to bring a stranger back home to his house with him.

Yea, it has been all quiet around here today. I was hoping I would get myself a chance at shooting a squirrel or a dove or something with that pellet gun you lent me while I was waiting on you to get home but I should have known better. You have pretty much eliminated the edible game around your house here. I guess the times of you having bird seed out to cheat a bit and attract the birds and critters is long gone. Thomas said uncomfortably scrutinizing Yoshi who wasn’t doing anything more than standing next to Walt with his pistol pointing at the ground, curiously eying him back while waiting on an introduction.

Who is your buddy, Walt? Thomas asked friendly enough.

This is Yoshi, he is sort of a refugee leftover from a misunderstanding I had earlier today. Walt advised.

Me no refugee, I live in America 30 years! Yoshi protested vehemently as being referred to as such.

Calm down buddy, I didn’t mean anything by that refugee word. Thomas, Yoshi used to own the Chinese/Japanese restaurant up by that old hotel I was going to try to go fish at today. Walt said taking off his hat and putting it on the wooden table so he could slick back his sweaty hair.

I own that place over 10 years now! Yoshi offered before shaking Thomas’s hand in greeting.

I have eaten in there! Good place, good food, so what kind of trouble did you two manage to get yourselves into today? Thomas said visibly relaxing but still studying Yoshi and that big oversized gun suspiciously while waiting on the rest of the story.

I am not quite sure exactly what or who it was that we found ourselves up against earlier. I am guessing they might have been an organized prepper group or maybe even militia by the way they were all similarly military camo clad dressed. I took a shot at some wild game for the pot not knowing that that they were all hid out in the woods and I guess they might have figured I was shooting at them and returned fire in my direction. Scared me no end I can tell you that and me and Yoshi still ain’t over that fright! Long story short, their leader pretty quickly hollered for his guys to check fire while I was hauling ass for better cover and that was when Yoshi and me found ourselves unexpectedly trying to hide in the same space. Walt said chuckling and grinning while describing the stinking tight confines of the cinder block dumpster enclosure.

Dang, I bet that was some humdinger of a surprise for the both of you! Who scared the hell out of who first? Thomas said grinning playfully evil at the mental picture of the two of them trying to hide out in the same place.

Who you think? Giant bean pole cowboy come running away from mad army men in my direction and then suddenly run in back of same garbage can I was watching him from! Yoshi said with a broad grin at the irony of it.

And you didn’t shoot him! Thomas said laughing out loud and looking at Walt mischievously to hear what he thought about him most likely looking at the wrong end of that hand cannon pointing at him. That formidable pistol looked like it was two sizes too big for that new stranger to be toting around, let alone be pointing it at someone in a hurry when they were scared.

No, I tell him go quick find him new hiding place! Yoshi said laughing and enjoying the mirth of the moment.

I would of probably shit my britches then and there if I hadn’t of already been puckered up pretty good from somebody shooting a damn AR at me previously. Check this out, I run in one of them cinder block dumpster enclosures hell bent for leather and I am crouching down to see if any more shots are going to be coming my way and I hear behind me I shoot you! Go find you another place! This place mine! and look back only to see that cavern of a muzzle poking around the far side of the dumpster in my direction! That’s it, no hand visible, no head, no body, just that gun pointing at me and a voice telling me to hurry up and leave! Walt said reliving that scary oh hell moment.

I sorry but I no want no trouble! Yoshi offered as a mild apology but seeing that everything had turned out all right, smiled once again with the other two men about what a funny scene it had made for him to be hiding behind the dumpster and poking his gun around the corner.

No worries, buddy, that incident could of turned out a thousand percent worse for the both of us in so many ways! Hey Yoshi, you were asking me about the effectiveness of a twenty-two bullet and told me to get myself a big man’s gun that shot a larger caliber. Stick that piece of artillery you got on the table for a second and compare it to this pocket rocket I got! Walt said fishing again in one of the bib pockets of his overalls and momentarily coming out with a miniscule stainless-steel hideout gun. Walt grinned before revealing what he was cleverly concealing and holding in the palm of his hand before laying it on the table and waiting on Yoshi to lay his monstrous hardly concealable at all weapon down next to it.

Image result for naa sidewinderS&W 500 Revolver vs the North American Arms Pug-T Mini Revolver

That Cockroach gun! Not real gun! No good! Yoshi said eying the diminutive gun in disgust and picking his .357 back up.

I told him that bib pocket thing of his was only good for over aggressive mice that had you backed up in a corner on more than one occasion! Thomas said getting into the game of messing with Walt about the effectiveness of what he disparagingly referred to as a mouse gun.

"Yea, Ha Ha, guys! Go ahead and laugh at me, jokes on