The Reluctant Survivalist
The Reluctant Survivalist
A Short Story
by Fleataxi
Author's Note:
This is a short story based on real people. My best friend owns a auto repair facility in San Diego, CA. He's also a licensed motorcycle racer including Sidecar, and actually owns all the vehicles in the story. The only thing stock on the Bronco is the body and frame. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Fleataxi
The Reluctant Survivalist
A Short Story
by Fleataxi
Chapter 1 - A Rude Awakening
Steve Smith was working on a car at his shop near Marine Air Station Miramar in the northern quadrant of the City of San Diego. San Diego was a strange city as cities went, it had a classic downtown, then due to urban sprawl, the city limits ranged anywhere from 10-25 miles from downtown, then the County of San Diego, CA extended beyond that from the Mexican border to the Riverside County line, almost 80 miles to the north. From east to west, the city went from the beaches to Route 125 in places, and the County extended out East into the desert. Due to ridiculously high housing costs, Steve had to buy a house out in Warner Springs, and commute 60 miles 1-way to work. He was glad when he purchased his motorcycle, a 2001 Kawasaki ZRX-1200 retro-sport bike. He was an experienced rider and held numerous motorcycle racing licenses, and was capable of driving the bike at its maximum speed of over 170mph, but rarely drove much more than the speed limit, both because he was a careful rider, and the kind of speeds he was capable of riding at could get him thrown in Jail or worse. He’d had too many friends killed or injured to ride recklessly, but he was glad he had the skill to in case he ever needed to get home quick.
That afternoon, he got his chance to ride “like a Bat out of Hell” when he was working on a customer’s car and the lights went out. He thought it was another of California’s famous power outages, which were occurring so frequently that some people had installed a generator and a transfer switch so they could stay in business. When his lights didn’t come back on, Steve wondered “What the...” and tried to switch stations on his battery-powered radio, but it wasn’t working. When one of his mechanics said that a car that started a second ago wouldn’t start, it dawned on Steve that it might be EMP. If it was, it might be either a near miss, or the precursor to an all-out nuclear war. Either way, he didn’t want to be anywhere near Miramar, since it was a prime target. He yelled at his mechanics that the balloon had just gone up, and they should go home right now. They locked the doors on the way out in case this was a false alarm, but Steve knew better. None of the other vehicles would start, except for 1 older mechanic’s diesel truck, so everyone but Steve piled into it since they lived near each other and drove out. Steve took the Mylar cover off his bike, and saying a quick prayer, inserted the key, turned on the ignition, and started the bike. It rumbled to a start, and he said a quick prayer of Thanksgiving, gathered his emergency gear and ammo bag and stuffed it in his saddlebags while the bike warmed up. He filled the tank from a 5-gallon Jerry can of gasoline they kept at the shop, slipped on his shoulder holster carrying his Para Ord P-14 Limited and 2 spare mags in an off-side carrier, then put on his motorcycle racing leathers and helmet.
He pushed the bike out the door, and except for the idling motorcycle, it was strangely quiet. Normally there was traffic noise all up and down Miramar Road, which was a major North County thoroughfare. When he got to Miramar Road, he could see that his motorcycle was the only vehicle running except for a few commercial vehicles with diesel engines. Most of the people sat in their vehicles stunned, and seeing his opportunity to get the heck out of Dodge before things got bad he accelerated quickly to the fastest speed he could safely slalom through the stalled cars. Once he got clear, he climbed through the gears, and as the traffic thinned going east, he drove as fast as he dared. If this was Round 1 of a Nuclear attack, he had maybe 12 minutes to get out of Ground Zero, and he had burned up 3-4 minutes of precious time getting his head out of his ass and on the road. Miramar became Pomerado Road, then he turned onto Scripps-Poway Parkway which was a long steady climb until it joined State 67 to Ramona. He had to slow down again driving through downtown due to traffic accidents and the usual congestion. Once he was clear of the town and headed toward Santa Ysabel on State Route 78, he accelerated to more than 100 mph even with the windy roads. He knew these roads like the back of his hand, and the turns were heavily banked, and his only risk would be running into a stalled car. Since it was the middle of the week and early afternoon, it was a fairly safe chance to take, since if he didn’t get out of Ground Zero, he’d be dead in a matter of minutes anyway.
When he reached Santa Ysabel, he hung a hard left onto Route 79. He was less than 20 miles from home by now, and was hoping he would make it. He accelerated to the bike’s top speed, since it was a straight road he knew Route 79 would be totally deserted at this time of day. He was afraid to look down and check the speedometer, but guessed he was flying in excess of 150mph. If he hit anything at this speed, they would need a scraper and a sponge to clean up the accident site.
As he pulled into the driveway, he was facing west, and saw many bright flashes like flashbulbs. He started counting to himself, and when he got to “one thousand 250" he heard the booms, and then the earth shook. He knew by the difference between the light and the sound that someone had just nuked San Diego, which was almost exactly 50 miles to his west. The breeze was blowing from the west at 8 knots, so he had maybe 5 hours to find shelter before the fall-out hit. He knew wherever he went, he’d have to stay at least 10 days. He cursed himself for not digging the basement shelter sooner, then remembered an old mining tunnel out in the desert his friend Matt had showed him when they were out riding the dunes on their ATVs. Steve knew he couldn’t stay at his house, because in 5 hours the radiation levels from the fallout would be lethal. He remembered seeing 6 or 8 flashes, and several mushroom clouds from ground bursts, and knew that the radiation level would soon rise to more than 1,000 rads, which would be lethal to anyone not in a shelter with at least 6 feet of dirt or 8 inches of concrete overhead. He parked his bike, then started quickly packing his trailer. He debated which vehicle to hook up to his toy box trailer, his half-ton Ford Pickup, or his Ford Bronco. They were both gasoline motors, and in the end, he realized he might need the 4wd, so he tried to start the Bronco. When it wouldn’t start, he tried the truck. Neither would start despite the fact that he had converted them both to points and carburetors, which was legal because he lived outside California’s designated smog zones.
Steve really wanted to take the Bronco, so he pulled his spare starter out of the steel ammo can he stored it in for EMP resistance, and installed it in the Bronco. He got the starter running, but it still wouldn’t run, so he quickly replaced the alternator and distributor, which already had a set of points installed and the alignment marks set. He bumped his #1 cylinder to TDC and replaced the distributor, then the alternator. Finally he turned the key and it fired right up. He quickly finished loading the trailer and the Bronco with all the food and water it could carry, grabbed his clothing, camping gear, rifle, ammunition, cleaning and maintenance kit. Next he filled the trailer’s water tank and 4 5-gallon water containers and loaded 8 5-gallon Jerry cans full of fresh gasoline in the back of the trailer, then wheeled his motorcycle and his 500cc 2wd ATV up the ramp into the back and secured them. He left his house with an hour to spare and drove down S-2 to S-22, or what the locals called The Glass Elevator down into the desert and out to Borrego Springs, and to the abandoned mine. He drove his Bronco and trailer into the mine tunnel as far as he could and quickly unpacked then set up a camping site in a side tunnel that opened to a huge cavern. He hoped he was deep enough into the tunnel to stop any fall-out from getting in, and the side tunnel was a sharp right bend off the main tunnel so he should be OK. Looking at his watch. He wrote down the date and time, knowing he shouldn’t come out for 10-14 days to be safe. When he was finished making camp, he walked out to the mouth of the mine and his Geiger counter started clicking. He stopped before it reached his max value, and wrote the date, time and reading onto a stake, and drove it into the ground. He wanted to know how deep the radiation was penetrating the mine, and so far he was very safe, since he didn’t max out the Geiger counter until he was within 50 feet of the mine’s opening, and his vehicle was parked at least a quarter-mile down the tunnel. He’d check it again tomorrow, and meanwhile, he took out his dosimeter and clipped it to his shirt pocket to keep track of his total dosage. He spent the time reading, and taking readings of the radiation each morning. 10 days later, the radiation in the tunnel was back down to background levels, so he felt it was safe to go outside. He repacked his stuff, and drove into Borrego Springs.
He didn’t see a living soul, and finally spotted the gas station he and Matt had stopped at 6 months ago. He remembered the owner was in his basement fiddling with his generator since it wouldn’t work. Steve asked if he wanted some help, and he reluctantly agreed. Steve quickly diagnosed the problem, replaced the point set and set the gap, and the generator worked perfectly. The owner let Steve fill up his Bronco for free in appreciation. Steve knew the power was still out because he hadn’t seen a single light in town. He checked the pumps, and the power was out. He walked into the bay, and the body of the owner was slumped on the floor with a bullet hole in his head. There wasn’t anything Steve could do for him, so he ignored the body as best as possible, located the generator, and after several pulls, got it started. He climbed out, walked back to his Bronco and filled the tank and every other gas container he had, then shut off the pump. He walked back into the basement, and shut off the generator so no one could drain the tanks in case he needed a fill-up later. He remembered he had a water faucet out back, and connected his water filter and hose to the spigot, and filled his water tanks, then connected to the black water dump, and dumped his tank and flushed it out. Since he still had water pressure, he used the bathroom and washed up as best as possible. He took everything useful from the gas station, including what he assumed was an NFA Mossberg 500A shotgun, 5 boxes of 00 Federal Tactical Buck and 5 boxes of Tactical 1oz slugs. He realized that if he was caught with it in California, he’d be old and grey when he got out of prison.
He needed to make a decision to either go Northeast to his friend Bill’s house in NV, or go back home. He was frustrated because he couldn’t get any news due to the EMP taking out all the radio stations. He knew his house was so isolated that someone had to deliberately be looking for it to find him. The downside of that isolation was the nearest shopping was in Ramona, almost 40 miles away. He was pretty sure some people in Ramona would be left alive, since they were in a high mountain valley, and some people had basements or shelters. If they were at work like he was, they were probably dead unless they found a good temporary shelter, but enough people would have survived to make scavenging the grocery stores difficult to extremely dangerous.
He faced the same dilemma if he went into Nevada. He wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d get, and even if Bill had survived. In the end, he realized he had water from an artesian well on his property and a 6-month supply of propane. All he needed was food, and defensive arms. He decided to drive back home. About 7 miles west of Borrego Springs, he spotted a woman with an infant hitchhiking. There was no cover around, so he was pretty sure it wasn’t a trap, still he kept his shotgun pointed at the door, so if she was bait for a trap, she’d be the first one to die.
When he stopped, she said “Please help us. We’ve been walking since 5 miles back. We were ambushed on the road and they tried to drag me out of the truck and rape me on the spot. Larry came out with his gun and shot all 3 of them, but took a round in the head before they died. Little Nicky is all I have left.”
“Where do you live?”
“We lived in an apartment in Southeast San Diego. When the first EMP went off, we just ran.”
“Do you have any relatives in San Diego?”
“I doubt if any of them survived.”
“I’ve got a couple of spare bedrooms if you want to stay with me for a while.”
Nichole looked at him. Steve wasn’t bad looking. Steve caught her look and said “I’m sorry, I don’t think you ever told me your name.”
“I’m sorry. It’s Nichole, Nichole Stevens.”
“Hi, I’m Steve Smith. Look if you want to stay with me, I wanted you to know I’m not expecting anything from you except you pull your own weight. I’m not expecting any sexual favors or anything.”
Her opinion of Steve went up a couple of notches, then she said “That’s funny, you don’t look gay!”
“Nichole, you’re a beautiful woman who’s just lost her husband, and survived an attempted rape. The last thing you need is for me to put a move on you. We’ll cross that bridge if and when we get there, but it will be totally up to you.”
Nichole smiled and said “Thanks Steve.”
He gave her several plastic liter bottles of water, and some snack food he got from the gas station, got little Nicky secured in his car seat in the back, and he drove back to his house in Warner Springs. He drove up the driveway, and nothing had been disturbed. Steve smelled smoke, and looking to the west, could see the sky was hazier than normal, and the sun was bright red despite it only being 3:00 in the afternoon, then he realized that the nuclear warheads must have started a firestorm in the densely packed urban and suburban areas of the county west of I-15. He hoped it didn’t spread much further east, or he’d have to find a new home, maybe back in Borrego Springs. He didn’t think the fires could cross 50 miles of desert. He parked the rig and started unloading it. He got fresh linens out for Nichole and Nicky, and showed her where she was going to sleep, and her own bathroom. She was glad for the privacy, and spent the rest of the afternoon laying in her bed crying. Once he got done unpacking, Steve made dinner, then they went to bed.
The next day, he went to check on his neighbor’s place. He was a doctor and lived in town, and the house in Warner Springs was a vacation house for him. Steve talked with him, and found out they were both into preparedness. Rick told him that if he didn’t make it back to the house, he should feel free to use anything in the house to help him survive. Steve had a key, and since it had been almost 2 weeks since the incident, and no sign of Rick, he was pretty sure he didn’t make it. He missed his friend, but was grateful for the supplies.
He walked back over to the house, and asked Nichole if she could help him move some stuff to their house. He explained his conversation with Rick, and the fact that he was probably dead since it was two weeks later, and no sign of him. Steve got the pickup started after replacing the starter on the huge V-8, and they drove it over to Rick’s place, and they loaded anything they could use into it. Even with the full-size bed, it took them most of the day, and 4 truckloads to move their stored food and supplies. Rick had a bunch of long-term storage food in his closet, and a pantry full of commercially canned food. What blew Steve away was Rick’s armory. He moved the light dresser and behind a false panel was a whole room full of guns, ammo, and gear. It took another whole trip to unload the armory and transfer it to Steve’s place. Nichole looked at Steve as if he’d suddenly grown 2 heads, and he realized Nichole was a Sheeple to the core and needed a major education.
“Nichole, sit down, I need to explain a couple of things to you. Those nuclear bombs probably wiped out 80-90% of the population of San Diego County. That includes the Police and everyone else you used to rely on to protect you. The only thing that stands between us and death from starvation, attack, or worse are these weapons. You’re going to have to learn to defend yourself, since I can’t always be there, or I might be busy fighting the rest of the Mutant Zombie Biker horde off. Civilization as we knew it is gone, maybe for good. Things will quickly revert to the law of the jungle, and unless we have enough firepower to fight off any attacker, and the will to use it, we might as well kill ourselves and save the wait. I can teach you how to defend yourself and survive, but I can’t give you the will to pull the trigger when you have to.”
Nichole’s green eyes flared “Wait a minute there Steve. I fought like a tiger to avoid getting raped.”
“Yeah and your husband still died. If you had been armed and had the will to use it, things might have turned out different. You can’t change the past, but you can try and keep it from happening again.”
Nichole burst out crying. Steve let her get it out. Finally when she was finished he said “I’m not blaming you Nichole, stuff happens. You weren’t raised with guns, and were probably socialized in school to think that they were evil. They’re not evil. They’re tools, just like a hammer. You can use a hammer to kill too.”
“Ok Steve, what do you want me to do?”
“You have to want it. I can’t force you to want to defend yourself and Nicky, but you have to realize the consequences of that training might result in you taking another human’s life, even if he is a total scumbag.”
“I’ll never let anyone hurt Nicky.”
“How are you going to stop them?”
Nichole’s mind hit a brick wall. She almost said she’d kill the SOB, then realized she didn’t know the first thing about guns, except what she saw on the TV and in the movies.
“Steve, can you help me?”
“Ok Nichole. First thing tomorrow, I’ll set up the range, and teach you how to shoot the AR-15, then one of the pistols, and finally a 12-gauge shotgun.” Steve knew Rick had a P-14 just like his, because they bought them together. Steve didn’t like the AR-15, and called it a “poodle shooter” but it would be the perfect carbine for a woman, especially a novice shooter. Rick had a Bushmaster HBAR AR-15 flat-top with a 3x9x40 quick-disconnect scope, and 20 20-round magazines in a tactical soft case. Rick also had 2 Benelli Super Black Eagle shotguns which Steve positively drooled over when he saw them. Rick had a surprise for them, he had ordered 2 spare 24-inch barrels for the black synthetic shotguns, and had a gunsmith cut them down to 20 inches and mount a ghost-ring rear sight on the receiver and a tritium front sight to replace the bead. The 28-inch barrel was left stock for wing shooting. The 20-inch barrel was meant for home defense, and Steve was sure it would work perfectly. He thought it was a crying shame to chop the barrel down on a $1400 gun, but Rick could afford it. Steve found 2 cases of 3" 00 Buck in the armory, and 1 case of rifled slugs. There were 4 cases of 5.56 NATO ammo, including 3 cases of 55gr FMJ ammo, and 1 of 55gr JHP Varmint ammo. The best score was 2 cases each of Corbon 200 gr. Flying Ashcan ammo and 230gr. FMJ practice ammo. One thing he didn’t understand was the case of 308 Match ammo. Rick didn’t own a .308 rifle. He had a 7mm Magnum he used for hunting. Steve was just glad to have the extra ammo. All he had on hand was 100 rounds of match ammo, and 200 rounds of practice ammo.
The next morning, Steve set up his ‘range’ which amounted to a folding card table and some pallets anchored on their side with a target stapled to it. He had 4 pallets: 1 at 15 feet, 1 at 15 yards, 1 at 50 yards, and 1 at 100 yards. First he showed Nichole everything there was to know about the AR-15. They moved over to the 50-yard line, and he got her into a good stable prone position, and had her dry fire until she could tell where the crosshairs were pointing as the trigger broke. He handed her a loaded 20 round magazine, and he could see her shaking like a leaf. He leaned over and said that it was OK, the rifle wasn’t going to jump up in full-auto and shoot everyone once she put the magazine in. She smiled and calmed down, so Steve moved back to the spotting scope. Her first round was right in the center of the 10-ring, but they were shooting at 50 yards. She followed his instructions to the letter, and tried to put the rest of the group in the same hole. She didn’t do badly for a beginner, and shot a 3-inch group that was high and right. He decided to leave her scope settings alone until her groups shrank and she switched to the 100-yard target, since she should be high at 50yds if her sights were properly set for 100 yards.
He handed her another magazine, and by the time she’d fired 200 rounds, her group size was down under 2 inches, and was steadily creeping in toward the x-ring. When she finished the last string, he said they should switch to the 100-yard line since the scope was really zeroed for the 100-yard line. When she laid down, she said she couldn’t see the target as clearly, so he had her crank the magnification up to 9x. With the scope at 9X, it was much easier to see the center of the X-ring than it was a 3x at 50 yards. Once she got set, she told Steve the crosshairs were wiggling all over the place. Steve said that was normal, since every little vibration in her body was transmitted to the rifle, which made the barrel and the scope wiggle. The 1" x-ring was invisible without a telescopic sight at 100 yards, so everything she saw was magnified 9 times, including her natural fidgetiness. If she wanted to shoot x-ring groups, she had to get her breathing and nervousness under control, if she were religious, she could try reciting the 23rd Psalm, or the Lord’s prayer, or otherwise she could try some deep breathing exercises. Either way, it should calm her down.
She was raised Baptist, so she knew the 23rd Psalm. She started reciting from memory “The Lord is my Shepherd...” By the time she finished, her scope image had settled down to oscillating around the X-ring. Steve told her that was excellent, and to do exactly what she did from now on. He told her in order to shoot through her wobble, she should squeeze the trigger when the crosshairs were on the way into the X so the trigger broke right before it crossed the center of the x, since it took a fraction of a second for the hammer to fall, the primer to ignite, and the powder to propel the bullet down the barrel. During that whole time, she could influence the path of the bullet. Once it left the barrel, it was on a ballistic arc to the target. She didn’t understand a word he said except “on the way in”, and her first round punched a clean hole right through the center of the X-ring. He didn’t say anything except “Ok, do it exactly that way again.” Her rifle cracked, and her second bullet was outside the x-ring in the 10-ring. She kept shooting, and Steve was proud of her. Most of her rounds stayed in the 10-ring or better.
When the gun locked open after the 20th round, she stood up with a big grin on her face. Steve stood up with his arms open, and she fell into his arms. He held her, and said “Great job Nichole. I was watching through the spotting scope, and it looked like you might have put all 20 rounds into a 2-3 inch group, and your first round was in the x-ring. If you’re OK, I’m going to get some B-27 body silhouettes and some orange stickers for you to practice shot placement. There are 2 spots on the human body you want to try and hit with that little rifle. If you nail them right above the bridge of the nose, it’s lights out, and Hasta la Vista Baby. That’s the best shot for a .22 caliber rifle. The next best spot is right through the heart. It won’t kill them as quickly, but they’ll be hurting big time, and not in much condition to continue the attack once their blood pressure drops.”
Nichole was taken aback until she remembered the whole point of this exercise wasn’t punching holes in paper, but punching holes in dirtbags who were out to hurt or kill her or her 2-year-old son. She thought of her husband Larry, and the scene at their broken down car where the two men ripped the passenger door open, dragged her out of the car, and were trying to tear her clothes off when Larry pulled a pistol from God knows where and started shooting. He wasn’t the greatest of shots, but he hit all 3 of the dirtbags with fatal hits. The 3rd managed to get his gun out, and with his dying breath cursed Larry and shot him in the head. Nichole screamed, and ran to the other side of the car, but she could see her husband’s head was blown all over the seats. She took little Nicky out of his car seat, converted it to a baby carrier, and took whatever food and water they had left in a shopping bag and started walking away from the scene down the road. It was a long lonely walk, and she was crying most of the way, mostly for her husband, partly for herself, and partly for her son, who’d grow up without a father if they survived. Twice she was so tired she wanted to lie down and die, but she knew if she gave up, her son was dead too. He was crying, she was crying, and she couldn’t comfort him. Finally she sat down, unbuttoned the buttons on her blouse that were still there, and offered her son her breast. He sucked at the proffered nipple even though she wasn’t lactating anymore. The sensations calmed them both down, and when he fell asleep, she put him back in the carrier, and buttoned up again. She was out of water, hungry and tired when she saw Steve’s truck and thought to herself that even getting raped would be preferable to both of them dying of thirst in the middle of the desert. Luckily Steve was a gentleman, gave them food and water, and a place to stay without demanding anything in return.
When Steve came back after posting the new target, she snapped back to the present. Somehow she knew that Steve was a good man, and would die saving their lives if he had to. Suddenly she didn’t want to lose him, and she knew that she’d have to become not only an excellent shot, but a decisive cold-blooded killer if necessary to keep Steve from dying protecting her like her husband Larry did. When she got back behind the scope, she could see the 2 orange dots on the black target that looked like the head and shoulders of a man. She remembered the face of the man that tried to rape her and killed her husband, and mentally put his face on the target as she squeezed the trigger, sending a round right through his forehead. She put 5 quick shots through his forehead before Steve touched her shoulder, breaking the spell. “He’s dead Nichole, time to switch targets.” She put the safety on the rifle, stood up and threw herself into Steve’s arms crying. Steve didn’t know what to do, so he held her while she sobbed hysterically. When she was done crying, he dried her tears, then she kissed him, and said “Thanks Steve.” Her kiss was like a bolt of electricity, but he didn’t push it any further. They spent the rest of the morning working with the AR-15.
They broke for lunch, then he handed her a P-14 just like his, and told her everything she needed to know to shoot a pistol, and the basic safety rules, modified for the current situation. Now the priority became killing the bad guy as quickly as possible, from as far away as possible, and forget about legal. He said if someone was armed, they were a threat. If they acted suspicious or threatening in any way, she was to shoot first and ask questions later. He had her dry fire 20 times pretending that she had a penny balanced on the slide as she squeezed the trigger. Her time with the rifle paid off, and she had the trigger squeeze down perfectly. He handed her a loaded magazine, and she slammed the mag home, grabbed the slide, and hauled it all the way to the rear and let it fly just like he showed her, then swept the safety up with her shooting thumb. He started her from low ready since she didn’t have a holster yet, but was pretty sure Rick had some somewhere, probably in that pile of gear on the floor. When she was ready, he stood back and to her left to avoid getting hit with flying brass. She brought the gun up, he shooting thumb snapping the safety down to “fire” and resting on it while she shot. Her first round went right through the center of the target, and you could cover her group with your hand. Steve was impressed, and moved her to the 15-yard target. She didn’t do as well, but her group stayed on the paper. Next he put up another B-27 with 2-inch orange dots over the heart and the forehead. He told her to put 2 rounds into the heart, then 1 in the forehead, and keep repeating it until the magazine was empty. 15 rounds later, the target had 10 rounds in and around the heart dot, and 5 rounds in and around the forehead dot. Steve was thinking to himself “Dr. Frankenstein, you’ve created a monster!”
They fired maybe 300 rounds through the pistol that afternoon, and he could see she was getting tired. They went back in the house, and after she fed Nicky, he showed her how to clean the rifle and the pistol and reassemble them. He told her that she’d learn to shoot the shotgun tomorrow. That evening, after dinner, Steve was laying in bed when his door opened and Nichole walked in. “Steve, I hoped you wouldn’t mind, but I can’t sleep alone anymore, can I sleep with you?”
Steve pulled the covers off her side of the bed, and as she laid down next to him, she kissed him and said “Make love to me please.”
Steve didn’t need to be asked twice.
The Reluctant Survivalist - Chapter 2
Chapter 2 - A New Life
The next morning, Steve woke up to Nichole holding him, and remembered that last night was one of the most passionate nights of his life, even better than his wedding night with his ex-wife. He hoped she was close enough to Ground Zero to die painlessly. He knew she wouldn’t stand a chance of survival otherwise, and he didn’t want her to die painfully because he still loved her. He looked over at Nichole and thought to himself “Not bad for a 40-year-old divorced man, Steve!” Judging by her fit trim body, he guessed she was between 28 and 32 years old. She awoke smiling, and saw Steve looking at her. He said “Good morning Beautiful!”
Nichole squeezed Steve harder and gave him a passionate kiss.
“What was that for?”
“Just because I love you. Last night I needed you, and I was grateful, then this morning I realized I love you. I know it’s really soon for both of us, but this is a new civilization. I want to share your bed from now on, and hopefully we can have some kids together.”
“I guess this means if we find a minister, we should get married.”
“Why, where are we going to file the license, and besides I know that you’d lay down your life to protect Nicky and I. That’s why I was trying so hard yesterday when we were shooting, because I don’t want you to die protecting us.”
Steve gave Nichole a kiss and said “Hopefully it won’t come to that. If we’re going to stay here, and you’re planning on having more kids, we need to get to Ramona and grab some supplies. It’s technically called looting, but since the owners of the property are dead, it’s more like salvaging. Either way, we need to go before the National Guard gets its act together, or someone beats us to it. Would you feel better with Nicky in the truck with us, or home here?”
“I’d like to have him close, even if he would be safer here. I see what you mean, we’d have to leave him in the truck where he was vulnerable if we were to have any chance of getting supplies. Either way we risk his life, but I’d just feel better with him in the truck.”
“Ok, let’s get you up to speed on the shotgun, then we’ll go shopping this afternoon.”
Steve gave Nichole a kiss, then rolled out of bed to make breakfast. She got dressed, fed Nicky, and then they ate. After he cleaned up, he took the 2 shotguns, eye protection, and his electronic earmuffs out to the range, and started with the body silhouettes, but rearranged the targets from 10-25 yards, and spread them out laterally, so she could engage them all.
“Nichole, this might be difficult for you. Even with the semiauto action, the shotgun has more recoil than the AR-15. The good news is every time you pull the trigger, you’re sending over an dozen 30-caliber hardened lead balls down range. Of all the short-range weapons in Rick’s arsenal, this 12-gauge has the best stopping power, meaning if you hit someone in the chest, even if they’re wearing a vest, they’re going down, at least for a little bit. The max range with buckshot is right about 25 yards to guarantee enough pellets are going to hit to do the job. Later, I’ll have you fire some rifled slugs which can do a lot of damage out to 100 yards, but it’s like shooting a rifle. You still need to aim a shotgun. Let’s get started.”
Steve showed her how to operate the shotgun, including loading and unloading, how to operate the safety, and how to clear a jamb. Jambs rarely happened in a semiauto shotgun, but when they did, they really tied up the gun, and unless you did everything right, you could make it worse. He handed her the short-barreled Benelli Super Black Eagle, and she was glad to see the rear receiver-mounted peep sight and the front tritium sight lined up in her vision naturally. When she squeezed the trigger, the gun recoiled, but not as badly as she’d thought from seeing all those Hollywood movies. When she saw the target 30 feet away, it had a hole in it like she had just dumped a whole magazine of .45 caliber ammo into it. She understood what Steve meant now. Steve was pleased that her first shot had gone right through the center of the target, and she didn’t flinch or jump. He had her top the magazine off, and sweep left to right, engaging the targets. She had 4 rounds (3+1) so she started at the left target, put a round into it, swung the barrel over to the right, and as soon as the sights settled on the center of the chest, fired again. She did that 2 more times, then went back to low ready to admire her handiwork. All 4 targets had a well-centered group, but the 20 and 25 yard targets had huge groups. Steve explained to her that as she got farther and farther away, the group size opened up, and much past 25 yards, she couldn’t guarantee enough pellets would hit to stop them. They might die later, but she wanted to stop them Right Now.
Nichole said she wanted to check on Nicky, then they should go as soon as possible. Steve picked up the shotguns and ammo, reloaded both shotguns, and carried them into the house. He located 2 raid vests that Rick had at his house with a level IIA Kevlar lining and chicken plates. Steve was really grateful, and hoped he’d get a chance to thank Rick later. He filled the pockets of the raid vests with shotgun ammo, pistol magazines, and anything he thought they might need on this trip. He brought his universal key - a 48-inch bolt cutter and a lock pick set he used at work to open cars instead of calling the locksmith. Nichole fed Nicky, changed his diaper, and said that they were good to go. Steve handed her a raid vest and told her to put it on. She looked scared, and Steve said it was in case they came across anyone. He told her that it had a Kevlar lining as well as front and back chicken plates to stop 30-caliber rifle fire. The raid vest didn’t fit Nichole too well, so Steve helped her adjust it, thoroughly groping her in the process. He got beet red and apologized. She kissed him and said she didn’t mind him groping her at all. It took over an hour to get all 3 of them into his pickup that he decided to take instead of the Bronco since it could hold more loot. He knew he had a tarp and a rope in the back to tie down the load. He started the motor, handed her the Benelli, and he kept the Witness protection shotgun next to him. They drove into town, and Ramona was deserted. Since the road was downhill, he shut off the motor with the stick shift in neutral and coasted. They rolled down the windows to listen for any noises, but all they could hear was the wind. Steve said to keep the windows down and her shotgun handy, then popped the clutch and restarted the motor. He kept the speed down so he wouldn’t make much noise, and drove around the back of the Albertson’s Store. Steve explained to Nichole that this store was your basic superstore with a pharmacy and everything. He was hoping they had a tractor-trailer combination that they could load up, and she’d have to drive the truck back home.
He parked out back, cut the lock on the roll-up door, and hit the jackpot. Parked inside the door still backed into the loading bay was an International Harvester tractor-trailer combination. They must have just finished unloading when the bombs hit because the back of the trailer was empty. Steve knew his way around the Navistar motor, and quickly got it running. He left the motor idling, and had Nichole help him load the trailer full of pallets of stuff they wanted using the pallet jack and forklift. He told her to concentrate on canned goods especially meat and vegetables, and all the paper products and baby food they would need. He showed her how to use the pallet jack, and said he was going to clean out the pharmacy department of everything he thought they could use.
When he walked into the store, the smell of the rotting meat and produce almost made him barf all over the place. He ran to the front of the store, found some Vicks Vaporub, and put some under his nose. It helped, but the smell still made him want to gag. While he was in the pharmacy department, but before he cut the lock, and possibly set off an alarm, he cleaned out all the OTC meds, first aid supplies and everything else they might ever need, and hauled it by the cartload back to the loading area, where he filled up several boxes full of supplies. Nichole had started dropping the pallets where he told her to, and he started up the forklift, and started loading the trailer. Once he had all the pallets she had hauled loaded, he looked around, and spotted some canned food and other items he’d like to have, and loaded it aboard the trailer. Steve thought “Score” when he found an entire pallet full of cases of 5lb. canned hams, and cleaned out the pallets of canned meats nearby, even taking the Spam, which he thought made pretty good dog food. When the trailer was full, he had Nichole back up to the next bay and started loading individual open cases of food that they wanted. When he was finished, he said that he was going to break into the pharmacy, which could set off an alarm, so she needed to be ready to go at a moment’s notice and keep the truck running. He was going to grab everything they could use from the pharmacy. He cut the lock, and rolled the door up, and spent the next 5 minutes pulling stuff off the shelves, including antibiotics, pain meds, and all the narcotics to keep someone else from getting them, and anything else that looked remotely useful. He was pushing the cart back to the back door when he thought he heard something, so he ran through the store, quickly loaded Nichole’s truck, and climbed into the tractor-trailer. With the engine still idling, he shifted into low gear and drove out the back of the parking lot, avoiding the front where he was certain he heard noises. After a tense hour or so, they arrived back at his house. After he climbed down, Nichole asked him “What are you going to do with all this?”
“I’m going to store the bulk of it at Rick’s house. How’s Nicky doing?”
“Sleeping soundly. I grabbed enough baby food, diapers and supplies for an entire orphanage.”
“Ok. We’re going to have to do this the hard way. I brought a heavy cart, the pallet jack, and a set of roller ramps. If I back up to Rick’s front door, I know he has a heavy duty cart that we can move cases in the house with. I need you to stack and organize the cases so we can find it later while I unload the truck. This is going to be hard labor, but it needs to get done. I’ll be in the trailer unloading the pallets onto the ramp, and if you get behind, I’ll help you pick up and store stuff.”
They unloaded the pick-up first, then spent the rest of the day unloading the truck, and storing most of it at Rick’s place. Nichole put a case of everything in the bed of Steve’s truck to bring back over to their house and store there. It took them the rest of the day, and Nichole checked on little Nicky every now and then, but he was sleeping peacefully. When it started to get dark, they called it quits and went home. When it was full dark, Nichole started lighting candles since Steve didn’t have any kerosene lanterns. She was in the process of making a list of what they needed when Steve announced that dinner was ready. He made ham, macaroni and cheese using 2 boxes of macaroni and cheese mix, and 1 16oz canned ham. Suddenly Nichole remembered how hungry she was, and ate a huge plateful, then fed and changed Nicky. Steve heard a scratching at his door, and pulled his P-14 out of the holster, then carefully looked out the window, and recognized his other neighbor’s German Shepard Lucky, except he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. Steve opened the door, and Lucky stumbled in. Steve picked him up, carried him to a rug, laid him down and took a large Tupperware bowl full of water and sat it next to him. Lucky sat up enough to drink the bowl dry, so Steve kept filling it. Once Lucky was full, he looked like he had to go outside. Steve helped him out, and quickly made some rice and ham for Lucky. Once it was ready, Steve set the food next to Lucky’s bowl, and he ate the entire bowl full of food. Once he was finished, he sat down and Steve petted him. He knew that the only way Lucky would get this hungry was if Kevin and Karen were dead, since they treated Lucky like their kid. He felt sad, since they were his closest neighbors, and often socialized on the weekends. He left Lucky with Nichole, and drove over to Kevin’s house. He carefully broke in, doing as little damage as he could, and there was no sign of life anywhere. Both Kevin and Karen worked at University Hospital, which was just off the 163 freeway in downtown, so he hoped they never knew what had hit them. He found Lucky’s bowl, food, toys and his favorite blanket, carried it to the truck, then drove home. Lucky was sacked out on the floor, and Nichole was petting him.
“Nichole, Lucky’s owners are probably dead. Lucky’s a good watchdog, and knows me. If you’re OK, I’d like to keep him.”
“I like dogs too, Lucky reminds me of a dog I once had, who was a German Shepard too. Sure, we can keep him. I’ll add Dog food and stuff to the list.”
“What list?”
“I’m making a list of all the supplies and equipment we’ll need to scavenge to survive up here. You had some serious holes in your survival plans.”
Steve looked at the list and read:
1) Propane
2) light
3) electricity or alternate power source
4) Perimeter Security
5) long-term fuel source for vehicles
6) food
7) supplies
8) Medical help or books
9) Entertainment & books
“Nichole, where did you get all these ideas?”
“My Husband Larry was into preparedness, unfortunately I wasn’t and we never made it past the “Bug-out” stage, and we didn’t even have somewhere to bug out to! I remember a conversation we had, that turned into an argument where he was reading off a list of all the stuff we needed to make our house survivable. I don’t think he ever included San Diego getting nuked in his preparations, because the 3 of us jumped into his diesel truck and drove like he was crazy, headed out Route 94 to the desert. We ran out of Diesel 5 miles east of where you picked us up.”
“Why didn’t you get fuel at the gas station on the western edge of town?”
“He said he had no power. The guys that tried to rape me were yelling at each other to make sure they siphoned the diesel out of our tanks. Problem was we were out too.”
“I wonder if they were the ones who shot the old man?”
“What old man? You mean the station owner?”
“Yeah, he was dead when I got there. That’s how I got the NFA shotgun. He had it on him, but I don’t think he never got off a shot, because the gun was fully loaded, and the safety was on. My guess is the dirtbags shot him in the back, and tried to steal fuel, only to discover the power was out.”
“How come you had a full tank of gas when you picked us up?”
“My friend Matt and I stopped there over a year ago on our way back from riding ATV’s in the desert. He was in the basement cussing his head off trying to get the generator started. I got it running for him, and he filled my tank for free in appreciation. He needed to replace the points on the motor, and I replaced them and set the gap. I remembered where he was, and that he had a generator, but it was a manual start unit.”
“That SOB lied to us, he said he had no power.”
“Probably didn’t want any trouble, and figured it was better to get you to move on down the road and get fuel elsewhere, or he was planning on selling it later for much more money. If that was the case, his greed caught up with him later when someone greedier than him decided to shoot him instead of paying for it, only to find out he didn’t have any power.”
“What a weird string of coincidences. Larry must have been running scared, because we passed several open gas stations in Jamul that had diesel, and he kept driving. We left South Bay with only half a tank of diesel, and ran out in the middle of the desert without more than a gallon or two of water on us. We drank most of it by the time those dirtbags showed up. Nicky and I started walking back west to San Diego, since I knew Blythe was over 100 miles away.”
“Nichole, if you’d have walked 2 miles east, you would have been in Borrego Springs again, where the gas station was. He may have been out of power, but he had plenty of fresh clean water. They get all their water from deep Artesian wells out there.”
“We almost died out there because I forgot one stupid little thing like that?”
“That and not bringing enough water, or defensive firepower. Even though we were still in California, whenever Matt and I went riding, we were always armed, and I always had guns in the trailer. My trailer carries 100 gallons of water. Still, I brought another 20 gallons, plus 20 gallons of gas, just in case.”
“Sounds like you were more into preparedness that even Larry!”
“Actually it was because of my friend Bill in Nevada. We met in college when we had the same biology class. When we weren’t ditching class to go surfing, we were talking about stuff. One of our favorite topics was “What if the big one hits?” We talked about survivalism and preparedness for hours. Once we were old enough, we started buying guns and ammo, then we bought Bug-out Bags, and a small supply of food, which probably was the phase Larry was in when the bombs started falling. Bill got tired of the BS, and moved to NV to a safer location in the middle of nowhere and bought a house. He upgraded his preps, but not much better than he had before, just a longer-term supply of food and water, and a fairly secure area. In the middle of the desert, he won’t have to worry about hordes of survivors, just the people from the nearby town, and most of them were Mormons and into preparedness anyway. I was on my way to his place when I realized I needed to seek shelter for 2 weeks to wait for the radiation to die down to a safe level.”
“I know, Larry and I hid in the basement of an old brick schoolhouse for 2 weeks like you did. Once we got out, he told me never to let Nicky walk anywhere, since the radiation was worse close to the ground, and if he kicked up dust by walking, he could be getting a much higher dose than we were.”
Steve checked his dosimeter, and was glad to see he’d absorbed less than 10 rads. He remembered he wouldn’t start showing symptoms of radiation sickness until he absorbed around 100 rads. If he absorbed 400 rads, he would have a 50% chance of dying without heroic measures. At 500 rads, he was history. 10 rads wasn’t anything to worry about.
“You’re lucky I decided to go back to my house. Otherwise, I would have turned the other way, and been in Blythe in a couple of hours.”
“Why’d you turn back?”
“It’s over 1,000 miles to Bill’s house through possibly hostile territory and desolate desert. I wasn’t sure I could find gas or water, or if I’d run into more trouble on the road, and except for his location, he’s no better prepared than I am. My house is on a community well connected to an artesian well with enough pressure to keep the system pressurized without pumps.”
“I checked your tank, and your propane is half-full. We’re going to need more propane in a couple of months, and definitely before winter. Your furnace needs AC power to run, and you don’t have an alternate heat source.”
“I kind of forgot about that, it doesn’t get too cold here except in the winter.”
“Ok, you need propane to cook and heat water also.”
“Nichole, can you help me find the Yellow pages, I think there might be a Solar Power company in Borrego Springs. I know of dozens in San Diego, but I’m pretty sure they were damaged when the bombs went off, and even if they still are standing, I doubt if their equipment works due to EMP.”
“Here you go. Says here Borrego Solar in Borrego Springs, and a phone Number.”
“Never mind, I know where they are, right across the street from the gas station. The tank on that tractor-trailer was full when we got it from Albertson’s, and I know the gas station in Borrego Springs has diesel. Even if he doesn’t, we’ve got enough to make it there and back. Just to be on the safe side, I want you to drive the pick-up so we’re not stuck in case we have to abandon the diesel for any reason.”
“Is there anything else we can get in Borrego Springs?”
“If we’ve got time, we can check downtown, and clean out anything we need. We should go first thing tomorrow.”
“Ok, works for me, if you’re sure.”
“Well, if he has some working equipment, we could grab enough batteries, inverters, solar panels and wind generators to make us self-sufficient for years. On second thought, the only thing that’s heavy is the batteries, and none of that stuff’s that big. Let’s take the truck and the Bronco. I can borrow Kevin’s trailer and haul anything light and large in their open trailer.”
“That sounds like a better idea Steve. I’ve got to go feed Nicky again. You want to start dinner.”
“Ham macaroni and cheese ok?”
“How long have you been a bachelor?”
“Almost 10 years - why does it show? I used to be a really good cook, but it doesn’t pay to cook for 1.”
Nichole went to check on Nicky, and by the time she came back, dinner was ready.
They left the next morning at first light right after Steve hooked up Kevin’s trailer, borrowed every gas can he owned, filled up both vehicles as full as he could get them, then they drove 50 miles to Borrego Springs. Lucky chose to ride in the Bronco with Steve. The town was a ghost town, and Steve stopped at the AE System dealer’s shop and pulled around back. The place was deserted, so he used his lock pick set, and was inside in a minute. While Lucky stood guard, they started unloading anything Steve even remotely thought they could use, including all 50 Optima Deep-cycle AGM 12v/220Ah batteries and 6 Air-X wind turbines they had, putting the truck down on its overload springs, but just barely. Steve took every 2500 watt inverter he could find, hoping that he could get enough of them to work to have at least a 5Kw system, since he needed power for the furnace and refrigerator/freezer. There were tons of battery cable, wire, controllers, connectors, tools, and over 100 45-watt panels and frame components. The battery terminals were still covered so Steve put some of the gear in the bed of the truck, since the panels would be big and heavy, and he wanted to leave room and weight for anything else they could find in Borrego Springs.
Steve turned on Palm Canyon Road, stopped at a small strip mall called the Center Market, and told Nichole to grab anything she wanted in the stores while he checked out the NAPA Auto parts store. He got all the replacement parts, batteries, oil, and various small parts for his truck and Bronco he could locate, and scored several cases of Pri-G. All he needed now was a large storage tank to hold a couple of thousand gallons of treated gasoline. When they were finished, she was wearing a brand-new T-shirt and sun glasses, and had a couple of boxes of things she wanted in the back seat of the truck. They walked into the True value hardware store and stocked up on tools and parts. Steve noticed the locked gun case, and called Nichole over and asked her if there were any guns she wanted. He described each rifle, then she said she wanted a .308 like his with a big scope so they could take out the dirtbags from as far away as possible. They had several .308 bolt-action rifles, but no Browning A-bolt rifles. He picked the lock, and slid the case open. She tried several of them, and couldn’t decide between the Remington 700 with the stainless barrel and synthetic stock, and a Savage Model 10FP in .308 Winchester with a Burris 3.5-10x50 Fullfield II Rifle Scope with LRS plex already mounted. Steve thought the Savage would work better for her, especially since it would save them having to mount a scope to the rifle. He picked the lock on the back room, and found the case and several spare sets of batteries for the scope, He took all the ammo they had in stock, several nice scopes, all their cleaning supplies and several nice knives. They loaded a cart, and carried it out the front door, and loaded it in the back of Steve’s Bronco.
Steve said he wanted to stop at the gas station on the way out, and fill up their tanks, and all the gas cans he found. The station was the way they had left it, and while Nichole played lookout with her .45 drawn, Steve went into the basement and started the generator again, and filled every gasoline container they had. He shut the pump off, and went inside, shut the generator off, added some fresh gasoline to the generator from a small gas can he found at the station, and secured the basement again. They drove more slowly home since they were heavily loaded. He took the long way home up S-2 to 78, which added 20 miles to the trip, but avoided the steep climb up the Glass Elevator which might have overheated the heavily loaded vehicles. Once they got home, they quickly unloaded both vehicles, then started unloading the truck and the trailer.
Steve had a spot under his house where he had started to dig a basement that was 6 feet deep, and waterproof. He assembled the racks he got from the AE distributor, and manhandled the heavy batteries onto the racks, installed the inverters, and connected the output of the inverters to a bank of fuse panels. He threw open and removed the main switch, disconnecting them from the grid for safety, then connected the leads from the fuse panels to the circuits on the main panel he wanted powered. He had worked wiring houses with his dad, so he knew what he was doing even though he wasn’t a licensed electrician. He really didn’t need the extra fuse panel, but he was almost paranoid about electricity, and the extra set of breakers wouldn’t hurt. Besides, it gave him a location to distribute the load and control it. He threw all his breakers open, then started assembling the battery bank, wiring it in parallel with the provided connectors. The next day, he started assembling the solar panels, and installing them in the ground rack. He mounted the ground racks behind the house out of sight from the road in a spot that got full sun all day, and tilted them to the correct angle. He ran the wires from the panels to the charge controllers, to the battery bank. He could tell by the lights flashing on the controllers that the battery bank was charging.
The next day, he took a post hole digger and started digging post holes to mount the 6 Air-X wind turbines on 1.5 inch thick-wall pipe with guys. He connected 3 10-foot sections of pipe with threaded connectors, attached the mounting bracket by threading it on top of the pipe, and attached the guy wire header to the pipe about 6 feet below the bracket right where the instructions told him to. He screwed the augers into the ground using a crescent wrench and a long pipe for leverage to hold the guy wires, then set the pole, and tightened the turnbuckles on the guy wires. He zip-tied the power leads to the pole, then connected the other end to a waterproof junction box, then installed the other 5 wind turbines and connected the leads to the same junction box. He ran a pair of heavy-gauge battery cables from the junction box to the house, and connected them directly to the battery bank, since the turbines had a built-in regulator. He was glad he got the new type controllers that converted extra voltage into current to charge the batteries quicker. When he crunched all the numbers, the solar panels would put out a maximum of 4500 watts combined, and the wind turbines would add another 2400 watts max, but only when the wind was really blowing. He had a 13KWH battery bank, and a maximum load of 5KWH if he ran everything all the time. If he got stingy, he could reduce that load to running the furnace during the winter, the washer and dryer as needed, and lights only when necessary. He made a note to replace all the incandescent fixtures with florescent units as soon as possible. That also meant that his favorite means of cooking, the microwave, would become a luxury. Also, he’d need to purchase at least a 5KW propane-powered generator, and hopefully a 10KW unit to charge his battery bank when neither the sun nor the wind was charging his system, and the batteries were dead, or once a month to equalize charges on the batteries. He found Nichole’s list, scratched a few items off, and added a few.
Steve let the banks charge overnight, then slowly flipped on breakers. He called Nichole over and explained the system. She had to be very energy conscious, and needed to only run the appliances she absolutely had to. The furnace would have priority during the winter, and when she was running the washer and dryer, she shouldn’t be using any other power. Nichole suggested stringing up a clothesline in the spare bedroom to air dry clothes, since the house was warm enough 10 months out of the year to air dry clothes overnight instead of using precious power and propane to speed up the process. She reminded Steve that they needed to do some more scavenging today, including a K-mart or Wal-mart for clothing, laundry supplies, and anything else they needed. Steve asked if they should bring the 18-wheeler, or the trailer. She said the pickup and trailer should be plenty unless he wanted to pick up an entire pallet full of laundry soap. Steve said they had the room, and if he got a whole pallet, that meant they wouldn’t have to go back for 5-10 years. She had to agree with Steve’s logic that having a 5-year supply of TP made sense since they had 2 extra houses to store it in. He asked her if she wanted to drive the pick-up again, and she said that was a good plan just in case something happened.
After breakfast they loaded up. This time Lucky rode in the pickup with Nichole. He wasn’t feeling good enough to jump into the cab of the tractor-trailer with Steve. They stopped into a service station at the edge of town to fill up the tractor-trailer. Steve knew this station had a back-up generator, which was why he chose it. Once he got the generator going, he turned on 2 diesel pumps to feed both saddle tanks, and told Nichole to fill the tanks on the truck while she was at it, and keep watch for anyone around. Just before they were finished, Lucky barked and both Steve and Nichole drew their pistols and pointed it at the threat. An older farmer and his wife raised their hands and said “we’re no threat. We heard the diesel rumbling, and came to check it out.”
Steve could see they were unarmed, so he lowered his gun, but had Nichole keep them covered. Being careful not to cross her line of fire, Steve and Lucky checked them out. Lucky sniffed them then sat down, indicating by his body language that they were OK. Steve holstered his pistol, stuck out his hand and said “Hi, I’m Steve Smith, and this is my wife Nichole.”
“You two are the first living people we’ve seen since the big bang. When we drove into town last week, it was deserted, and several houses we went into had dead people in it. How’d you two survive?”
“I hid out in a cave in the desert, and Nichole hid in the basement of a schoolhouse.”
“Where’s my manners, My name’s Rudy, and my wife’s name is Anne. When I saw the mushroom clouds, we hustled down to the root cellar and stayed there for 2 weeks. Good thing I dug it deep, because several of our neighbors tried to shelter in their basements of their wooden framed houses, and died of radiation sickness. We found most of the bodies in basements in a horrible state. It’s sad too, if they had dug deeper, and covered the basement with either 18 inches of concrete or 6 feet of dirt like our root cellar, they might have survived.”
“Rudy, how are you two fixed for food and weapons?”
“We got plenty of food, but not much more than a shotgun and a .22 thanks to the California Anti-gun laws.”
“Guess what Rudy - Sacramento probably took a nuke, so you don’t need to worry about that one anymore. We were headed over to Wal-Mart, if you want to join us, I can get you anything they have in stock.”
“Great, we’ll follow you.”
Steve left the pumps and the generator on, and Rudy filled his ancient truck with as much gasoline as it would hold, and filled up all 4 Jerry cans full of gas. When they finished, Steve showed him where the generator was, and how to run the pumps. He told Rudy not to run the generator unless he was pumping gas, and to make sure to shut it off to prevent any Mutant Zombie Biker types getting gas, and using it to attack them.
Rudy looked at Steve and realized he was deadly serious. He hoped Wal-Mart had some decent rifles. Otherwise, he hoped Keith, the owner of the gun store in town, didn’t have time to put all his stuff in a safe before he bugged out. Even if he did, Rudy had a solution for it, but didn’t want to use his small stash of high-explosives unless he needed to. Rudy served in the EOD during Vietnam, and had managed to smuggle a couple of pounds of C-4 and a dozen detonators home over his 2 tours. The C-4 was buried in an ammo can at his farm, and the detonators were buried in another can deep under his root cellar with shunts across the leads. They drove over to the Wal-mart, and while Steve and Rudy cleaned out Sporting Goods, Nichole and Anne used the pallet jacks to move stuff to the trailer, and decided to let Steve load the trailer when they were done. The pickings in the Sporting Goods department were pretty slim, still Steve managed to outfit Rudy with a couple of pump shotguns, a couple of .308 caliber bolt-action rifles, and a couple of semi-auto .22 rifles.
They cleaned out all their ammo, then checked the back area, and located the storage cage for the guns and ammo. It was closed with a gate and a lock, which Steve quickly defeated with his Universal Key. Rudy thought it was a good idea, and ran over to Hardware and picked up 2 more of them, so they’d have a spare. Steve was glad, because the cutter was getting dull from cutting all that hardened steel. When they opened the cage, there was a bunch of rifles, shotguns, Gerber and Leatherman Multi-tools and knives, and cases upon cases of ammo all on pallets. Steve ran back to the loading dock and got a pallet jack while Rudy secured the rifles onto a pallet to make them easy to load. Several hours later, they cleaned out the Wal-mart Sporting goods selection of guns and ammo to prevent any bad guys from getting them. Steve picked up a dozen Camelback Mule daybags, and a box of Katadyn purifiers, and boxes of miscellaneous camping gear. What really blew him away was a mummy sleeping bag the size of a softball, and a bivy tent that wasn’t much bigger when collapsed. The bag/tent combination was waterproof, and rated to 0 degrees Fahrenheit. He grabbed all of them he could locate, and threw them into an empty box with the rest of the camping gear he wanted. Nichole didn’t have a BOB, so he decided to grab everything she’d need for a really neat kit while they were there. Luckily the Wal-mart was well stocked, and he came up with most of the equipment he wanted. Meanwhile Nichole and Anne had cleared out all the cleaning supplies and paper products, and clothing. Steve started up the forklift after fussing with it for an hour, and finally got it started. They loaded the trailer as full as they could, then told Rudy they’d follow him back to his place and unload whatever they wanted there. Rudy suggested stopping at a gun store on the way out, so he could check if he got his stuff put up in the safe before he left.
They pulled into the parking lot, and Rudy peered into the door, and practically jumped up and down yelling “They’re still here - hurry up will you!” It took Steve almost an hour to pick the lock, but they finally got it open, then cut the lock on the gate. Rudy was practically drooling looking at all the Semiauto rifles for sale. This dealer was into Springfield Armory rifles, and had a whole case full of M-1a rifles, including several National Match rifles with the Springfield scopes already mounted. They grabbed all 6 National Match rifles and all the mags they could find, then spent a half-hour trying to find his back room to locate his ammo storage. Rudy found a hidden door, and Steve managed to pick the lock. Inside was his back room with reloading gear including reloaders, primers, powder and bullets; cases upon cases of ammo, and all the accessories he could use for a lifetime. They loaded Nichole’s truck and Rudy’s truck as full as they could. Rudy picked up several Kimber .45 pistols, and Steve checked his supply of magazines, and located 10 factory LEO marked P-14 high-cap magazines. Looking further back in the room Rudy saw the safe was open, and realized that the gun store must have done a lot of Law Enforcement business judging by the equipment he had in back. Nichole said that they were full, and needed to drop what they had and come back. They drove to Rudy’s farm, unloaded the pickups, and left the 18-wheeler parked, then drove back, and cleaned out the gun store in several trips. The building was a stand-alone building with nothing but parking lot around it for 100 yards. Steve conferred with Rudy, and they agreed that they better burn it down since they had cleaned it out, and they didn’t want to leave any evidence behind. The wind wasn’t blowing that day, so Steve took a gallon can of gasoline, and spread it on the carpet from back to front, and once everyone was clear, Rudy lit a flare and threw it through the front door. The gasoline vapors lit with a whoosh, and the concussion knocked them off their feet. Once the building was fully involved, they drove off to Rudy’s farm to divvy up the loot.
