The Long Road Home

[Christian for Israel]

Chap 20 - A short walk and a long swim

Steve awoke to the buzz of mosquitoes fighting for the right to attack him first. Between the mosquitoes and the midday heat, he could not sleep. He wished he could just ride off but he would be way too noticeable riding across the bridges in the daylight. Still he couldn't sleep anymore, so he might as well get up.

Once he had packed his gear (he wanted to be ready to run, if he had the need, with all his supplies intact), he drank his fill from his water bottles and set out to refill his water supply. Taking out his Katadyn from his pack, he wrapped a coffee filter around the intake as a prefilter and carried it down to the waters edge. The water here should be slightly brackish, but still drinkable, once the filter had done its job.

Rommel was nowhere in sight, apparently off getting his exercise for the day or hunting. Steve didn't know, but figured the animal could take care of himself. Steve pumped his bottles full of water after sampling the product.

"Not too bad", He thought. The filter took out most of the objectionable taste and the salt was not noticeable to him. He wanted to keep his supply full, if he could find a water source, since he needed water for himself as well as Rommel, also.

Steve decided to do a little scouting ahead since he couldn't sleep. Maybe he could find any roadblocks now, instead of waiting until he ran into them on the bike. He kept the netting over his face to make the mosquitoes tolerable and to add to his camouflage. It cut down on his vision some but he figured the tradeoff was worth it. Adding a pair of thin gloves from his pack, he grabbed his SKS and headed to the rails.

Rommel showed up with a big grin on his face, soaking wet and picked that time to shake himself. Steve wanted to choke him for that little feat, as Rommel sat back with a "what'ya gonna do now" smile on his face. Steve scratched him on the back of his neck and promised to get him back for the mid-afternoon shower.

Once Steve had wiped his face on a sweat rag and wrung out his face netting, he started following the tracks toward the next bridge crossing.

Steve arrived at the start of the next bridge in just a few minutes. He found an observation point where the treeline ended and the mud and grass started. Carefully he parted the brush, and using his binoculars, looked for anything out of place. The railbridge crossed over another tidal flat, mostly slick gooey mud and green saw grass, interrupted by small streams of water, which rose and fell with the tides, before again ending on dry land. The tracks ran only another 250 yards or so before crossing the Ashley River over a drawbridge. Steve wished he could see that crossing, but it was too far from his vantage point. Steve gave thought to crossing the next bridge now to save time since he was already awake. Everything looked fine, no one could be seen anywhere, it would be easy to speed across the bridge and be ready to cross the main bridge after dark. Finally, his good judgement and internal paranoia overcame his natural impatience and he returned to camp to await the darkness. His Grandfather had once told him, while they had been hunting Whitetails, that his impatience would get him killed one day. He had tried hard since then to control it, usually succeeding, but once in a while it tried to overtake his good judgement.

Rommel had eased up beside him earlier, somehow sensing this was no time for play. He started backing away while growling that low warning growl Steve had come to know. Steve slowly looked around for the problem and then froze. A Cotton-mouth rattler was coiled up nearby, looking very unhappy at the intrusion of man and animal into his domain. Once his heart started beating again Steve eased back slowly, away from the very ticked off snake, leaving him to his territory. Steve was once again reminded that he had more than terrorists and the Government to concern himself with, he also had to keep an eye on Mother Nature.

Back at camp he pulled out a tube of "Squeez-n-go" portable pudding, chocolate brownie flavor, from a saddlebag for a snack. He decided to listen to the news to keep up on the latest events in case another new crisis had appeared. He heard nothing new, just more calls from the liberal side demanding greater protection and crackdowns on the terrorists and the general lawlessness that had taken America by storm, even if freedoms had to be sacrificed for that goal. Even with the Republicans in power, little airtime was given to opposing views.

Throwing Rommel a couple of doggie snacks that the store owner's wife had given him he settled back waiting on the cover of darkness. To pass the time he cleaned his Makarov and once he was convinced it was clean, started on the SKS.

=================

Diane was worried, almost frantic. She had tried to find help, but so far no one was willing to give help or get involved. She had worked up the courage to knock on a couple of homes. No one would answer the door even though she knew she was being watched. She had not seen a police car or even a car that she could recognize as belonging to any government official. Cars were few along the road and people were even fewer in this area. She had spotted some travelers walking along a nearby road, but as soon as she approached they immediately raised rifles and started looking around as if they expected to be attacked. She had backed off then and ran back into the woods. What happened to the friendly southern hospitality she had heard of all her life?

Tim's arm was still very painful from the cut he had received. The wound was red, tender and kept oozing. She was afraid it would become infected if she could not find help soon.

She had seen the truck once more during the day but it did not come close to where they were. Still she wanted to move away from the area if she could get her Mom moving.

It took a while to convince her mother they should move. Donna kept insisting help would come. Finally after explaining how she had been rejected at every house she had been to and about the lack of a police presence, her mother agreed to move futhur towards Savannah. Diane took her spare shirt she kept in her backpack for times the air-conditioning was too cold and fashioned a sling for Tim's arm. It seemed to ease the pain some, or maybe walking took his mind off the pain.

She had managed to fill their few water bottles at one of the houses she had stopped at, so at least they had water. Food was the problem, as they had not eaten since early yesterday except for a couple of Snicker bars she had hidden in her pack.

They started out fine. Tim leading out, trying to be the Man, though Diane could see he was hurting. Their mother next and Diane last. After only about one half mile Donna started to complain. Her feet hurt, she was tired, hungry, you name it she complained about it. Diane was embarrassed to be called her daughter. What a pampered primadonna!

Donna traveled another quarter mile before she sat down and refused to move another foot. She made over Tim as if he was the reason she wanted to stop. He just rolled his eyes like most young people do and sat down. Diane was frustrated but she could not leave them alone so she sat down and tried to get her irritation under control.

Donna had spotted a building across the highway before she stopped. After 30 minutes or so she got up and started across the road. She said that "She" would get them some help. Diane guessed her mother thought herself important enough that everybody would fall over themselves to take care of her. Donna walked up to the door and started knocking. When no one immediately came to the door she started pounding on the door with her fist. Since no one came to the door then either, she must have thought no one was home so she started pulling on the door and trying to open it. After another bout of pounding on the door in frustration, she came back across the road and told her kids no one was home. Diane didn't mention the fact that she had seen the curtains move from the inside. Her mom returned to her seat like a queen to her throne to await someone else to care for her.

=================

The day wore on slowly for Steve. He managed to doze a few times before the sun finally descended into its sheath of darkness. Steve had packed the bike while some light remained, spending the time giving Rommel some attention. It tightened the bond between them, and gave Steve a distraction from his future worries.

Steve mounted the bike after placing it on the track. Rommel jumped into his accustomed spot. Steve had backed up some so that he would be up to speed when he crossed the treeline into the open. He wanted to cross the open area in as little time as possible.

For all his preparation and concern they crossed without incident. Steve slowed once he was on the other side, the next bridge was his biggest worry. Not only was it a drawbridge that could be open to allow boat traffic to pass, it was over the largest body of water and a natural spot for a checkpoint.

Steve dismounted the bike just before the bridge came into view. Leaving the bike on the rails ready to move he carefully slid toward the bridge staying in the shadows and darkness of the brush and trees that covered this small island.
He scanned the bridge and as much of the other side as he could see. Just as he decided everything was ok, a light flared on the other side followed by a small red glow. Even through the attempt to hide the flare Steve recognized a match and the glowing end of a cigarette. Great! Just what he needed, a checkpoint. He knew this would be the place if one were around. Well at least he had contingency plans for this type of problem, even if he was loath to use them.

He located a spot that led down to the water without crossing mud, as well as a spot on the other side offering the same benefits. Returning to the bike he folded the outrigger and pushed the bike toward the spot he had located. Still within the treeline he reached into the side of the bike and removed the large innertube he had brought for just this problem. He used a small CO2 cartridge adapter (1) to inflate the tube. The tube was large enough to need two cartridges and some more air from the small hand pump. Steve was glad he had accepted the small, added weight of the adapter as it helped speed the inflation process up. The rushing CO2 sounded like a jet on takeoff to him, as it flooded the tube with expanding CO2, but in reality probably could not be heard past a couple of yards away. With the tube fully inflated he used his 550 cord and a couple of bungy straps to secure his possessions to the tube. He tied a length of cord to the tube, rolled the rest into a ball and stuffed it into his pocket in case he was separated from the tube during transit.

He removed his boots and put his booties on. He eased out into the water, still deciding what to do about Rommel. That decision was made when Rommel calmly walked out into the river and started swimming out to the raft. He placed his forepaws on the tube and kept swimming. Steve was constantly amazed at the animal's intelligence. He could not have trained him any better.

The night was not as dark as he would have liked. If someone really looked, he and the dog would stand out as a dark splotch against the grey surface of the water. As the thought crossed his mind, he noticed the red glow walk out on the bridge and turn toward them. The red glow arched toward them as the cigarette was flipped into the river. Steve gave a sigh of relief when no alarm was given, and pushed the raft to a faster speed.

He could not help but think about that cottonmouth and the fact that this type of terrain was ideal for them. Pushing that thought deep inside his conscience, he figured he would deal with that, if and when it happened.

Steve steadily pushed his burden across the river, glad this was the narrow section and not the portion in town. That area would have been too wide to attempt this maneuver. He had not noticed much when he examined the river from the shore, but now that he was approaching mid-stream he noticed he was being pushed toward the ocean.

He had to do something now. If he waited much longer he would be pushed into the mud and grass. He did not want to have to fight his way through that to get to dry ground. Rommel was trying to climb onto the raft, and with a little help from Steve made it. Steve pushed off, letting out the cord as he went. Then he started swimming, fighting the current that had increased since he had started. If he could get out of the center channel he might have a chance of avoiding the mud.

Steve swam harder than he had ever swum, fighting the current every stroke of his arm. The dark, chocolate brown water seemed to fight him for each yard of progress, pulling him back into its watery grasp. Through all the effort he had to maintain noise control afraid those on the railbridge would hear his struggles.

Steve could feel the raft tugging at him through its lifeline. He didn't want to lose the raft and all his supplies, but he was soon getting to the point he would have to make a decision, whether to keep fighting or let his supplies go.

With his every fiber he fought, slowly making headway against the ever pulling current. So much was his concentration and fatigue, he didn't notice he had escaped the swifter current in the channel, and almost missed the root extending from the bank. As his hand brushed the root he almost withdrew it to make another stroke. Instead, he grabbed the slick root with his last remaining strength, holding on while he recovered enough to climb onto the bank.

Steve pulled the innertube back toward him and slowly crawled onto the muddy bank, glad to be alive. Rommel came over to lick at his face as if to say "We made it!"

Before he could rest, Steve knew he had to get his supplies back on dry land. He pulled the raft slowly toward him, careful now, to avoid snagging the innertube on anything that might puncture it. Finally the raft was pulled up the bank onto the soft ground, his supplies now safe.

Steve lay back, letting his tired arms relax. His body wanted to lay here, rest, and recover from the unexpected ordeal. He would not let his body over ride his mind. Once his breathing had returned to normal he pushing himself up to his feet, staggering a little as his exhausted muscles struggled to operate.

He unstrapped his bike and deflated the tube, rolling it back into a small bundle that would fit back into it's space. He changed out of his wet clothes, after ensuring Rommel was dry, first. Once he had his web gear on, and his rifle near, he felt better. He did take time to heat some water. Making a cup of Hot Chocolate, extra sweet, with a pack of powdered cream added to increase richness, flavor and calories. The hot sweet liquid warmed him up and gave his body fuel to burn. He knew his body would quickly consume the sugar, but he did not want to stop this close to the checkpoint to prepare food. He did add a couple of tablespoons of pinole(2) to the mixture to add carbs, until he could have a proper fueling for his body.

Temporally stoked, Steve packed up and eased the loaded bike through the
brush and trees, trying to maintain noise discipline.

(1) CO2 adapter - http://www.cycoactive.com/mc/sw.html
(2) Pinole - http://www.kurtsaxon.com/foods011.htm

[Christian for Israel]

Chapter 21

Steve's first thought was to hunt Rommel down and shoot him himself. Rommel was thrashing around, in the area between Steve's location and the Checkpoint, barking and generally making a fuss. Then Steve realized that Rommel, on purpose or not, was creating a diversion. His noise covered any Steve might make, masking Steve's trip through the brush. The dogs barking identified him to the men on the checkpoint as benign. Steve could hear the men calling to Rommel and laughing. He supposed the dog's antics were a welcome diversion for them on a long watch. At least they were not trained soldiers or they might not have been so friendly to the dog.

Now that he did not have to try quite so hard to avoid making any noise he made better time. He was soon far enough away from the checkpoint to return to the tracks. He slid the laden bike through the final few feet of underbrush, glad to be back on firm ground. The hard swim against the current and the walk through the brush and soft ground had taken a toll on him. "Guess I'm not as young as I used to be", he thought with a wistful smile.

Once again, he rolled the bike onto the right rail and placed the outrigger on the left locking the outrigger in place. He then checked his gear making sure nothing was loose. He mounted up and started peddling in easy smooth strokes; he wanted to give Rommel a chance to catch up, besides he was not ready for a marathon right now. He would have to leave the rails when they turned toward downtown Charleston a few miles, but he would enjoy riding the smooth rails while he could.

Rommel joined up with him soon after he had the bike ready for rail travel. Steve could have sworn the dog had a grin on his face when Rommel ran him down. Steve just applied a grin to match and stopped the bike then motioned for him to take his accustomed riding place.

They arrived at the spot Steve had picked to leave the tracks before they turned toward the coast. They would pick the tracks back up just after Ravenel, S.C, following US 17 south until then. Steve folded the outriggers and secured them in place since they would not be needed for awhile.

They were in a low-end business district sprinkled with dark warehouses, most no longer used, at least not for their original purpose. Steve was tired enough to want to rest for a short time, beside they needed to eat. He knew, from his previous trips along this route, the next to last warehouse was empty and offered a secure place to stop, so he pushed on toward it.

He carefully avoided the rubbish left along his route as he threaded his way along the deserted back street staying in the shadows as much as possible. He was nervous about being in the open but it could not be avoided. He did not take for granted his rest spot would be uninhabited, so he stopped among a pile of old pallets to hide his equipment. Taking his SKS and his web gear he began checking the area, first with his eyes and ears then by a careful recon.

He slowly moved through the shadows, using every bit of his hard won experience, looking for signs of occupation or danger. He moved toward the entrance he had found the trip he taken about 2 years earlier. This was one of two sites he had marked as a possible safe haven and the better of the two.

Pausing at the dark, dank entrance Steve stopped and took a breather. He was tired and knew he was not as sharp as he could be. He wanted to travel on further but knew he would be a danger to himself if he pushed to far to fast. Taking a breath he slowly pulled the rusting metal that made up the back portion of the warehouse. No matter how hard he tried to control the metal it still groaned as he opened the gap enough to pass through.

"Well since I just made enough noise to wake the dead, I guess I can risk a light," he thought. Steve turned on his Halogen beam, after covering the lens with his fingers to limit the beam exposure and closing one eye to maintain some night sight, he shined the narrow beam around. Nothing moved and nothing seemed out of place so he turned the light off and secured it back in its place.

Just as he decided the spot was safe and turned to retrieve his supplies he heard something, some noise that seemed out of place in a deserted warehouse at midnight. In max alert mode, he closed his eyes in the dark, searching through the night with his ears, searching for the source of the sound.

Before he could locate the source of the noise Steve felt Rommel brush by him. Steve opened his eyes and tried to grab the fast moving dog with no success. Rommel entered the darkness in a flash and was gone from sight. "That dog needs some serious training if he survives this trip," thought Steve.

He once again strained his ears looking for any abnormal sounds, hoping to locate the sound he had heard earlier or find what had attracted Rommel.

Suddenly Steve heard a growl from Rommel followed by a loud bang and then..... Nothing.


Diane was hungry. She was dirty and she was tired. Otherwise she was not in the best of moods. Apparently their mother intended to sit where they were until they died. Donna kept insisting they stay put because Tim needed to rest. Yea, right. Tim could probable stay ahead of them both, it was Donna that could not keep up.


Diane and her mother had never been real close and this was straining the few remaining threads of closeness they had. Diane made up her mind that she was going to survive. Even if it meant leaving Donna behind. If her mother wanted someone to baby her she would have to find someone else.
This was a New World and the past lifestyles were gone, probably for good.
If you wanted to survive you must change.

Diane wished she knew more about surviving in the wild, but as much as she loved her father, her protected her too much. Even when they went on hunting trips her father insisted on doing everything for her since she was a "girl". She tried to learn by watching but some thing's you need to do to learn.

Still she would survive, however she needed to change and whatever she needed to do, she would survive. She would try to help Tim and her mother if they wanted to make it, but she was determined to adapt to this new life.

With her mind made up she got up and went looking for help. She took their empty water bottles since they needed water first. Since the folks along the main road had not exhibited any desire to even talk she headed the opposite way. She crossed over a fence and walked through a pasture. She was worried about meeting an angry bull or something but she kept going anyway.

She crossed two more fences before she came to a farmhouse. A slim woman was feeding chickens in the back yard. The woman stopped as she drew closer and Diane noticed she was wearing a gun. The woman rested her hand on the butt of the gun as Diane neared and called for the young girl to stop. Diane was in no mood to back off but she also did not want to offend the first person she saw.

Diane stopped with her hands held in plain site. The woman slowly approached and asked her business there. Diane explained that number one she wanted to fill water bottles, number two she was looking for a little food and last she was looking for medicine for her brother's arm. The woman looked her over and than scanned the area. Seeing no one else she asked if Diane was willing to work for the items. Diane was ready and willing to do whatever it took to improve her situation and said so. With a small smile the lady handed the feed bucket to Diane and said, "We'll see, We will see".


Diane spent the next few hours feeding chickens and ducks, gathering eggs, and cleaning pens along with anything else the woman wanted. The chores were not demeaning just typical country labor. Even though Diane was hungry she kept at the work, actually enjoying the time. Whenever the woman had a new job for Diane to do she explained how she wanted it done. This ensured she did it right and also Diane learned a new skill.

After a few hours of honest work the woman approached Diane.

"Young lady, it is rare to find a teenager today willing to do honest work without complaining. You learn quickly, follow directions and work hard.
Follow me and you can clean up, you've earned your board today."

Diane followed the woman towards the bathroom where she was offered towels and a shower. Diane washed her underclothes in the shower with the intent of going without until they dried. Her dirty jeans would just have to wait. Though she did not relish the thought of putting the filthy clothes back on they were all she had.

Diane jumped at the knock on the door, but the woman was back. She told Diane to see if the dress would fit that she had placed on the door.

Diane carefully opened the door and reached for the dress, finding it on a hanger on a nail. The denim was worn but clean. It fit loose but still the clean material felt wonderful even without underclothes. Diane opened the door to find the woman waiting for her with a plastic bag in her hand for Diane to place her wet clothes in.

The woman explained the dress was left over from a visit by a niece. Since she was close to Diane's size she had hoped it would fit. Diane thanked the lady for the gift and turned to wash her jeans before she placed them in the plastic bag with the rest of her clothes.

Diane found the woman in the kitchen and asked if she could do anything else for her. The woman replied that the work was done, she was just waiting for her husband and Son to return. She pointed to another bag, this one with the food Diane had asked for along with a few bandages and a half-empty tube of antibiotic ointment. The site brought tears to Diane's eyes, so much had happened and now to find someone that would offer a helping hand almost pushed the young girl emotionally over the edge. Even though she had worked for it, the food gave her hope. She turned to thank the lady and found an older man standing beside the woman. She held out her hand to the stranger and received a firm yet gently shake. Diane then gave the woman a hug and a heartfelt thank you, then turned and walked out of the house.

Tired, but feeling good Diane headed back to her mom and brother. She had been gone most of the day and wanted to be back with them as soon as possible to share her bounty.

The trip back was made a little harder since she was wearing a dress and not much else. She had to be more careful crossing each fence and the dress did not flow through the underbrush as easily as her jeans. Still she soon neared the spot Donna had stopped at and refused to budge.


Diane knew this was the spot, She recognized the log her mother had sat down on after her short walk and the prints from Tim's shoes. The problem was, no one was home!

[Christian for Israel]

Chap 22 - Meeting

Part of Steve wanted to rush in and find Rommel. To see if he was alright and to wreak havoc on what or who might have brought him harm. But Steve's training was stronger and he maintained his vigilance, trying to discern what had caused the noise.

There! He heard it again and this time almost laughed out loud. For he heard the hiss of a very angry tomcat followed by a playful young dog. Steve eased into the shadows of the darkened warehouse and softly called to Rommel. Steve noticed the dust settling around a piece of steel sheeting. That was what had made the loud bang and brought Steve's heart into his throat. Steve had been so intent on finding danger he had let his imagination fill in the blanks when he had heard the steel fall.

Rommel paused in his pursuit of a dog's mortal enemy to return to Steve's side. From the look on his face Steve could almost hear his thoughts, wondering why this human had stopped him when he had almost triumphed.

Still looking around Steve once again decided this was a valid stopping spot and returned to gather his belongings.

Since the opening didn't open enough to allow Steve to bring the bike in the warehouse he pushed it behind a nearby dumpster. It would be almost invisible in the darkness, besides he would be leaving soon. He wanted to stop long enough to eat and clean up after his long swim.

Once again inside the abandoned warehouse Steve quietly but quickly moved some of the remaining sheeting to form a sort of lean-to. This would lower the chances of someone seeing his little stove while he heated water, and give him some protection if he was found.

Rommel looked longingly out at the empty warehouse, trying to find the bane of all dogs' existence, that cat. He stayed simply because food was more important than the cat. This time!


Steve removed his damp, muddy clothes. He used his baby wipes and washcloth to remove the ac***ulated sweat, dried river and grime. Spreading the clothes across the steel to dry as much as possible, he dressed in a pair of BDU pants and a grey T-shirt. Fresh socks and he was ready once again to travel.

His water was ready so he added a coffee packet along with sugar and creamer. He took a pint sized summer sausage and a small bag of GORP from his pack to feed his hunger with.

He poured Rommel a bowl from the bag of food he had gotten from the store and together they beat down their hunger pains in preparation for the rest of the night.


Diane heard a rustling as her mother stood up from the bushes she had been hiding behind. Her red face showed her anger as she marched over to Diane.

"Young lady, what did you think you were doing?"
"Going off for most of the day, leaving us to fend for ourselves!"
"Look at your brother, he is real sick and you just traipse off to who knows where with no concern for him!"
"Anything could have happened to us while you were out having "fun"".
"I heard a truck and just know those men had found us. I had to drag Tim all by myself into hiding!"

Diane could not believe her ears. Without giving her a chance to explain what she had done or what she brought back for "the family", her mother was trying to put her on a guilt trip. Blaming her for their situation instead of accepting the blame herself. Diane could feel the anger and frustration building up inside her. The effort to avoid striking out, either verbally or physically, was causing her lips to tremble against her clenched teeth and her insides to churn.

In order to maintain what little respect she had left for her Mother she simply slammed the food and medicine into Donna's hands then turned and walked away to be by herself.

How could on person be so naive and hardheaded! So stupid and single minded that they would not see "they" were the problem not others.

Diane found a secluded spot away from her mother near the railroad tracks and settled down. Her thoughts were in turmoil. Not yet an adult, matured by life and on her own, she still thought of her parents as her protectors. The position she was being forced into was foreign to her but she was determined to learn quickly. Her father was gone, killed by a situation her mother had forced him into, and her mother lived in another world. A world in which she was not to blame for anything and everyone looked out for her. What a crock!!

Diane stared at the stars so big and beautiful, so oblivious to her problems. At this low point in her young life she remembered a lesson her Sunday school teacher had told once. A story of two disciples locked in a dungeon in a hopeless situation. She closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer for deliverance from the situation or at least help through the trials.

----------------
Steve didn't consider himself a deliverer, no just a man on a mission. Kind of like the Blues Brothers movie he thought with a slight grin "A mission from God" as they were so fond of saying. Well his family was God given and he was on a mission to get back to them to assume his job as leader and protector so he guessed the saying fit.

All fed and cleaned Steve with his adopted pet (mutt was more like it he mumbled to no one in particular) set out to travel as many miles as they could before sunup. Since they had a ways to go before they once again met the rails Rommel would have to hoof it. Rommel didn't seem to mind it one bit, as he ran about, probably looking for his cat thought Steve. Steve packed more weight on the right side of the bike to offset the folded outriggers on the left side and headed on south.

Still following US17, staying in the shadows and the darkness they rode through South Charleston on to Ravenel. Both areas were blacked out except for a few dim yellow lights Steve opinioned came from kerosene lamps or candles. Most of these folks were not far removed from the lifestyles led by their parents and were much more prepared than their city brethren. At least in the short run they would be a little more uncomfortable and a little less friendly to strangers but life would go on as before.


Steve kept the small travel LED's off as he maneuvered through Ravenel. The town was quite even in normal times, more of a suburb of Charleston than a stand-alone town. Steve rode along US17, the darkness enveloping him as he traveled.

Soon they left Ravenel behind and would meet the rails just up the road. Steve figured they had about two hours before daybreak. He wanted to make camp just before sun-up to avoid contact with anyone getting up with the sun. Most of the people around here would be cautious but not overly hostile, but it only took one person to misinterpret your intentions to ruin your day or life. Best to avoid strangers as much as possible. The burned out hulk of a car they passed on the side of the road was mute testimony to what could happen to the careless traveler.


Bill could not believe their luck. He also could not believe those bit@#s had stayed around after his son had knifed the old man. They had chased after them right after that incident but had lost them in the trees and darkness. They next day they had returned to look for tracks but had been scared off by a passing deputy. Then late yesterday on a last look around they had spotted the older woman and the boy. He did not look in to good a shape, kinda feverish and sluggish, with a bandage on his arm. Guess his knife had made contact the other night. Jeff wanted to take them right then, but he decided to wait. He owed that little brat something and wanted to find them all together. He figured to have some fun with the women before removing the witnesses to the killing.

It should have been simple, just like the other two times they had pulled the breaking down trick. With the world falling apart the law wasn't as much a problem anymore. He could finally indulge his fantasies and his son was more than willing to go along.

The other cars had been easy, take out the men and have fun with the women before killing them. The last car with the two young twins had been a dream come true. They had lasted almost two weeks at the old cabin before Jeff had gotten carried away and killed them.

That kid and his bat had spoiled the scene and Jeff still was ticked about being bested by a girl. Bet she screams a long time before I’m finished with her, he thought with a wicked grin.

They had left the area once the older woman had spooked and pulled the boy further into the bushes. Her efforts were almost funny, born out of panic not planning. If they had wanted her then they could have easily taken her. They had left with the intentions to return later and catch them all together. Bill liked working at night better anyway. The darkness added to the victim's fear and made them more vulnerable.

Diane dried her tears and slowly got up. She had to face her mother now or turn around and abandon both her brother and Donna. That was something she was not yet ready or able to do. Donna was once again cradling Tim in her arms, the food had been eaten with no thought of saving any for later. Her mother had apparently used the antibiotic ointment on Tim's arm from the look of the tube lying on Tim's lap.

Donna did not even appear to recognize Diane's return, continuing to whisper childish things to the boy while stroking his forehead. Diane once again was reminded of how much of a fairy tale world her mother lived in and how ill equipped she was to live in this new era.


Had Diane been more attentive to her surrounding instead of her grief she might have heard the sound of silence as the night creatures recognized bigger predators were around and silenced themselves in hope the creature's would pass them by.

Bill and Jeff could have cared less about the insects. They had run moonshine and drugs before the crash, forest sounds and their meaning meant nothing to them. They were some of the few in the area that had never hunted much and hated the effort it took to live off the Forest, preferring an easier way to survive.

They had returned to watch the small clearing, waiting for the younger girl to join the other two. Jeff had spotted her as she slowly came back into the clearing and silently sat down on the far side away from the older woman. Diane
Didn't know it but by staying away from her mother she had made the two men's job a little harder as they now had to split up instead of attacking together.
Jeff noticed the younger girl had changed from her jeans into a loose fitting dress, in his warped mind he imagined that she had done it all for him. His twisted brain took it a step further, fantasizing she wore nothing underneath the dress, just for him.

Diane felt as much as heard or saw the man as he rushed out of the brush and smothered her. She didn't have time to cry out and was hampered both by sitting down and by the dress she was wearing and could not effectively defend herself, but she tried. She forgot all about not wearing underclothes as she kicked and fought the dark figure, yelling as the man defended himself.

Donna saw the figure run toward her, her brain unable to comprehend what was happening. The shadow punched Tim and pulled her up from her position only to throw her back down on the hard ground. The trauma and violence caused her to withdraw deep inside herself while the man ripped her blouse as he roughly mauled her breast.


Jeff slowly eased closer to the girl that had caused him to be ridiculed by his father about being whipped by a girl. Just thinking about assaulting the teenager in payback caused him to undergo a physical reaction in readiness.

He rushed out of the underbrush, jumping on top of her and grabbing her before she could cry out. He was not ready for the aggressiveness of her response. All the other girls had cried and begged him not to hurt them, this one almost ruined his chance of future offspring with her first kick. He turned almost by accident as the kick landed taking the blow on the inner thigh instead of the jewels. As they struggled he realized the girl truly did not have anything on under her dress, the feel of her unfettered breast against his arm gave him new strength to overpower the girl and deliver a sharp backhand that stunned the teenager causing her yelling to be abruptly cutoff.

Bill was disgusted. He hated it when they just rolled over without fighting him. He loved the fight, getting really turned on by the struggle, before taking away the females modesty and exerting his right, as conqueror, to the spoils. He heard Jeff fighting with the girl but knew the boy would take her, besides his lust for the woman caused him to ignore the struggles. He ripped the woman's blouse open, almost tearing her bra in his haste to satisfy his desires.

Jeff paused to catch his breath, lifting up the unconscious girl's dress to see heaven before him. Still living his fantasy he never heard the bullet that killed him.

Steve led Rommel through a small path finding the track on the other side. He extended the outrigger after setting the tires on the right rail. Rommel jumped up into his accustomed perch as Steve mounted the bike. Slowly peddling along Steve looked for an area to stopover for the day. He wanted some place that would give them cover and protection.

A strangled yell brought him instantly into alert mode. Rommel sat up with a deep warning growl verifying what Steve had heard.

Steve wanted to avoid confrontations but the sound seemed to come from directly in front of him. He did not want to become involved in a situation but if he did he wanted it to be on his terms.

Steve glided to a stop still listening for what had alerted him. Once again he heard a yell but this time one cut off abruptly. Steve grabbed his SKS and blended into the darkness of the woods.

He slowly worked his way toward the source of the noise, arriving to find two course men, two women and a young boy. The older of the two men was holding the older woman down, while the younger man sat holding the younger girl's dress up. The youth was not moving, whether injured, dead or unconscious Steve could not tell.

As Steve tried to make sense of the situation, and determine if he should intervene, his decision was made for him when the younger man started to unbuckle his pants.

The girl (for Steve could now see she was in her teens) started to groan. She suddenly screamed and tried to push away from the man but he pulled her closer and delivered a slap. Steve heard the blow as well as the command to "Shut up Bi&#h and take what's coming to you". The man removed a knife from its scabbard and raised it toward the girl.

Steve was raised to believe women were man's companions and helpers. Someone to protect and love. If a woman wanted to be the center of attention at a lust party that was her choice. But if she was forced, his Grandfather raised him to intervene if possible. Of course the first rule of survival is to survive yourself.

The slap and the knife were the final straw. Steve's Grandfather used to tell him that sometimes a woman or a child needed a little correction, always in love and never with violence. He had provided an example at Steve's expense several times but Steve knew the old man loved him and he loved his Grandfather in return.

If a man crossed that fine line between correction and abuse he was not a man, just an animal.

"Looks like hunting season just opened," thought Steve as he raised the SKS and sighted on the younger man.

The man never heard the roar of the SKS nor the crack of the bullet as it traveled toward him at 2400 feet per second. He certainly felt the 124-grain projectile as it slammed him carelessly aside in the millisecond before he died.
The bullet entered his chest from the left and ended up lodged under the right after passing through his heart. Steve didn't pause to examine the shot, as he knew a killing shot when he made it. He raised up to stop the older man who had paused in his rape of the older woman at the sound of the SKS.

The man tried to rise but a caress of the SKS's buttstock stopped him in the middle of his confusion.

Silence...It was always like this after a battle. The sudden violence, the noise and confusion, then silence as the survivors recovered, glad to be alive.

[Christian for Israel]

Chap 23 - The Truck Ride

Steve checked on the women first. The younger one seemed fine, though Steve could tell she was holding back the tears. She was gamely trying to hold on and not give in to the shock and trauma of the past few minutes.

The older woman was another story. Donna, as the younger girl introduced her, was obviously in shock. Steve knew he was not equipped to deal with this problem. She would have to work it out on her own.

Steve next checked on the boy. His arm had become badly infected and he was running a fever. As Steve checked the teen, he noticed the younger girl walk over to him. Steve glanced at her as she came close but figured she was interested in what he was doing or concerned for her brother. Steve concentrated on the task of fixing up Tim's arm and paid her no more attention. Before he knew, what was happening or could react she lifted his rifle from where he had laid it and pumped two shots into the older man.

The man had returned to consciousnous and was starting to quietly moan and move around. Steve had almost forgot about him as he had checked on the family, tending to their needs.

"Must be more tired than I thought," Steve mumbled to himself as he replaced the Makarov he had unconsciously drawn back into its holster.

Steve got up and moved carefully to Diane reaching for the SKS. Center of mass noticed a part of Steve's brain, surprised, as he took the gun from the girl's hand.
As the weight of the gun was removed from her hands the tears started flowing from her eyes, then a river of emotions poured out from her. Whether from
Killing another human being or just the overall events Steve didn't know.

Steve wrapped an arm around her, as he would his own daughter, giving her the security she sought. Steve felt helpless, he could handle bullies and rapists, but a crying female made him, like most men, feel helpless. She soon regained her composure, once again damming the emotions, and returned to her mother's side.

"That's one tough girl," thought Steve "but she will soon have to let all the emotions out or have long lasting problems."

Steve left to retrieve his bike, noting that Rommel was staying close to the boy's side.

"Well, it's another fine mess you've gotten me in Ollie," He thought, in his best Laurel and Hardy accent, as he walked away.

Once Steve had returned with his supplies, he went to the boy to clean away the infection. He first had to debride the wound to remove any foreign particles or damaged tissue. Then he would apply a good home remedy to keep the infection away and speed the healing process.

During the debriding process, the young teen moaned then cried out. Steve had tried to be gentle but the cut was deep and had not been cared for. Some type of ointment had been applied without really cleaning the wound.

Donna took that moment to snap out of her comatose state and lunging at Steve. She yelled at him to leave her boy alone, while swinging wildly toward him. Steve dropped what he had been doing to protect himself from this suddenly wild woman. Finally, he had no other choice but to go on the offence, grabbing the woman's arms mindless of hurting her, and shoving her down to a sitting position.
===============
Diane couldn't believe her mother. She caves in to her rapist, becoming docile and pliant, and then goes rampant attacking the man that rescued them.

As the man, he had introduced himself as Steve, gained control of Donna, Diane ran to help. Together they calmed her down with Diane staying by her side to make sure she stayed put.
================

Steve returned to the boy rubbing the scratch Donna had given him on his cheek. "That was close," He thought, "It could have been the eye". Steve had come close to using a backhand on the woman, just to protect himself from her attack, only the thought of her recent trauma had stopped him. He figured she was still in shock from the near rape and her son's cry had finally triggered her attack.

He finished debriding the wound and then filled it with raw honey he got in trade from a neighbor. The honey gave him a duel use substance, both a sweetener and antibacterial agent (1).

Steve covered the wound with a bandage and gave another of his limited antibiotic capsules to the boy. He then cleaned his own scratch noting it was a little deeper than he thought, he would have to watch it in case it became infected.

Finished with the teen he walked over to Diane to get their story.
==================
Big Gun was getting desperate. Food was getting harder to steal as supplies continued to dry up and people guarded their meager supplies more aggressively. Fuel was being rationed; you needed coupons to get each week allotment now, meaning they needed to cut down on their joy rides or find someone to print their own counterfeit coupons.

"That might be a new business venture for them" He mused.

Just setting around was getting old and boring to his band of punks. He had even heard from a trusted lieutenant that one member was planning a revolt. That traitor had screamed for a long time before he stopped being a member. Fear would only work for a short time Big Gun knew. After all, he had a tenth grade education, which was at least one year more than most of his band.

It was about time to take a trip to the country. He would take most of the boys this time, give them some fun, and let them work off all their energy. That would take their mind off his position and any desire to take it.

"At least for awhile," he thought.

Big Gun knew what he had to do; still he got a dark forbidding feeling whenever he thought about attacking that one farm. He had not been able to find out who or what those greymen were and that more than anything made him hesitant to move.
====================
Steve moved to check on Donna now that she had calmed down and recognized he wasn't going to hurt her son. As he came close she wrinkled her nose and said
"You stink".

"Excuse me?" Steve asked not sure what she meant.

"You smell. When was the last time you bathed?" she asked with a smirky attitude.

Steve had already had about enough of her and he had not known her 1-hour yet.
However, in deference to her trauma he decided to do the Christian thing and give her another chance.

He walked away, deciding she must be ok or Diane would have said something.

Diane walked with him and gave him a condensed version of the past three days.
When she was through Steve could not help but be amazed at the determination of the young girl and the ignorance of Donna. Donna must rate right at the top of the list of the "Who's who" of sheeple for her acts so far!

Steve, still shaking his head at the people that look at the world through rose colored glasses, and started to fix something for them to eat. He filled his canteen cup with water and added half a pack of chicken flavored Ramen noodles.
He thought this would be something Tim could try to eat. He needed to eat something to regain his strength, strength he would need to help his sister and mother through these times. Of course Diane had been doing pretty good so far, and if Donna would only open her eyes and pitch in they might make it.

The noodles were soon boiling. He took them off the fire and sat them aside to cool a bit before Diane could try to feed her brother. He made a small bowl from some tin foil he carried and poured the soup into it. It would cool faster and free up his cup for more cooking chores. He cooked more of his dehydrated beans and quick cooking rice for them to eat along with a few miscellaneous items from leftover MRE's.

Once he had dinner done, he fixed Rommel a meal that the dog promptly dived into with gusto.

Diane finished up preparing the food, once she saw how simple it was, leaving Steve the odious task of cleaning up their campsite.

Steve fist checked the man he had killed, emptying his pockets and removing the knife sheath from the stiff corpse's belt. The man had twenty-eight dollars in his wallet that Steve kept along with a cheap Leatherman knockoff. Steve would give the bounty to the family since he had no need of the items. The knife and sheath would come in handy in the future since they had not even a pocketknife now. Seems Donna thought Tim would get hurt if he were allowed to have anything sharp. Once again Steve was reminded of how lucky he was to have a Grandfather that taught him the skills he needed to survive. He was also taught personal responsibility for his actions.

Steve drug the body off into the woods a ways and returned for the other body.
This one was not as stiff since his demise was more recent. He had a set of keys, probably to their vehicle, and thirty-four dollars on him. Steve removed a sheath for his knife from a front pocket, inserting the knife into it to add to the bounty for the family.

Once the bodies were removed Steve spread leaves over the blood and set up a lean-to away from the worst off it. He spent a little extra time making the lean-to bigger than he normally would to have space for the family. He picked up the still feverish boy and carried him to the shelter. He then sat down finally to eat. Diane had eaten as well as Donna and Tim. The boy had woke up enough to drink the broth and eat about half the noodles, it was a start to his recovery.

Diane had waited until he was almost finished with his chores to fix his food so it was still hot.

"She will make a fine wife one day," thought Steve as he gratefully accepted the hot food.

Steve's water supply would have to be replenished soon, as it was never designed for four people and a dog, but for now Steve needed to rest. He really noticed how tired he was once he stopped to eat.

He walked over to the shelter to find Donna already there, hovering over Tim like a Mother hen over a sick chick. As Steve prepared to lie down She spoke again in that insolent tone that he hated.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded as he lay down.

"Going to sleep" he responded, you should try it.

"You are not sleeping in the same place I am" She retorted.

Slowly rising up to a leaning position Steve looked her right in the eye. He had had enough for one day.

"Lady you have two choices, stay here in this shelter or move outside away from it. I on the other hand am staying right here and getting some sleep. Whether you like it or not those are you only choices!" Was his hot reply.

"Some gentleman you are" She angrily responded as she got up to leave.

"Never said I was a gentleman," Steve said as he lay back down, "Just a man"

Exhaustion overcame anger and he was soon asleep, Rommel and his SKS close by.

He awoke late in the afternoon, rested but still tired, he looked around.

He would sleep for a week once he made it home, he thought.

Diane was resting next to Tim and Donna was curled up on the far side.

"Guess she decided company was better than pride" he thought with a smile.

Steve got up and tended to his toilet functions, changed his socks after powdering his feet and boots, and decided to look for the truck before it got to dark to see.

He left his bike and gear, only taking his personal gear and his rifle. Rommel was up and ready to take a walk so he started off.

It didn't take long to find the old truck. It had been backed into the woods far enough back to be partially hidden from the dirt road it was on. Looked like an early 80's Chevy extended cab two-wheel drive. It looked rough but the engine ran smooth once Steve let it warm up. Steve noticed there was only about half a tank of gas but riding beat walking any day. He cleaned out the cab best he could, removing food wrappers, dirty clothes (some female), and empty beer and drink cans. Steve hated to litter, but didn't see any trash barrels near, so he just left it in a small pile.

The bed of the truck wasn't the cleanest place around but it would do. Steve tossed an old blanket in the bed after shaking out most of the dirt. It would be fine for Rommel, much better than the ground he had been sleeping on.

Steve turned the truck around and drove back to the tracks, turned right and slowly drove along the side until he was near their camp. He carefully turned the truck around and parked as far away from the rails as he could.

He returned to the camp to find Diane waiting for him. The obvious relief on her face visible even in the fading light.

"Did you think I ran out on you" He asked with a grin.

"I was wondering until I saw your bike still here" she said " but the sound of the truck brought back to many fears".

"Sorry about that, I should have mentioned where I was going" He replied "I am not used to having people depend on me this last week or so"

"Anyway lets get everyone up and into the truck. We will see how far we can get in it" Steve said "Hopefully we will make Savannah and you will be home."

Diane turned to let her mother know their plans as he pushed his bike to the truck. He lifted it up on the bed with a little effort and made sure it was secure. He opened one of his side bags and took out his remaining granola bars.
They would suffice as lunch for now.

On his return Donna was up and helping a now awake Tim up. Steve gathered up the items he had taken from the men, placed them in a large size Ziplock bag and handed them to Diane. He then lifted Tim up and carried him to the truck.

Donna wrinkled up her nose at the interior of the vehicle, but one look at Steve's face by the interior light and she "humuffed" then got into the back.
Steve helped Tim into the back were he curled up on the seat. Diane rode shotgun as Steve drove. Rommel jumped into the bed like he belonged there as Steve closed the tailgate.

Steve ruffled Rommel's fur as he walked by and received a "kiss" in return.
Wiping "doggie love" off his face Steve got in the truck and cranked it up.

He slowly drove back along the tracks until he came to the dirt road. He turned right and then left onto US-17 headed to Savannah.


(1) http://www.jr2.ox.ac.uk/bandolier/bo...at/honey2.html or http://www.findarticles.com/m1279/19.../article.jhtml

[Christian for Israel]

Chapter 24 - A long ride

They had been riding a little over an hour now, making real good time. Steve had stayed on US-17 avoiding the temptation to take the faster I-95 route, preferring safety to speed. They still averaged 60 miles an hour since little traffic was on the road due to the fuel shortage, curfews, and overall danger.

Steve hoped no one was watching the side roads as much as the highways. He also hoped no helo's were up with FLIR or they were in trouble. So far they had escaped detection and had not seen anybody but two other cars that chanced the expressway. Steve's only problem was Donna.

First she complained about the room she had, so Diane moved forward some. Then she complained about the wind from the open windows blowing in her face, so Diane rolled the window up until Steve made her lower it some for cross ventilation. Donna wanted the air conditioning on, even when Steve tried to explain about saving fuel. She complained about taking US-17 instead of the faster I-95 route. She complained about..., well you get the picture!

Finally about 10 miles north of Savannah Steve had had enough. He pulled over to the side and turned off the engine. He got out of the truck, dropped the tailgate and lowered his bike to the rough pavement, Donna providing background noise. Rommel had jumped down to tend to some "doggie business' so Steve folded his blanket to take with him.

The whole time Donna is yapping. "What are we stopping for?" "Are we out of gas?" "What are you doing", "I told you we should have taken the highway!"

Steve had had it. Fighting terrorists was easier. How someone could be so ignorant and hardheaded was beyond Steve's imagination, but Donna was classic living proof of a sheeple. Steve was a Christian and tried to live by the Christian principles of helping your brother, but there were limits. Steve tried to help anyone he could "if" they were willing to help themselves. Donna had proved she just wanted a keeper, something Steve didn't have the time or inclination for.

Diane came up to him, apparently to ask him to stay, but one look at his determined face and she changed her mind. She just thanked him for his help and asked his advice on what to do next.

"Even at a young age a woman could tell what a man was thinking" he guessed.

He told her that, short of dropping her mother off somewhere deep in the woods, she should just head on home, unless they had some family nearby they could stay with. He hadn't meant to be short with Diane, but he was tired and sick of Donna's whining. He tried to rein in his irritation, but right now he just wanted to be alone with no one to worry about except Rommel.

Steve took a deep breath after seeing the look of hurt on her face. He then explained that the truck should have enough fuel for them to make it home, but not much more. He also gave her as much advice and information as he thought she could remember. Diane reached up and gave him a hug and kiss. She turned quickly and walked back to the truck.

Steve could still hear Donna complaining as they drove away.

"Well Rommel, it's just you and me again." Steve said as Rommel bumped against his leg looking for attention.

Steve started pushing the bike looking for a place to stop and rest. He had been on the move for well over a week and decided he needed to observe a Sunday. He had just had the short layover at his primary cache and been sick then. He thought he deserved a day of rest to regroup and recharge. He needed to locate the nearest set of tracks on his map and calculate the best travel path. Maybe even call his wife if the phone circuits were up.

He pushed the bike on, enjoying the silence of the night (especially after listening to Donna for the last few hours). He enjoyed looking at the nighttime sky, watching God's painting, ever changing yet always the same. Pushing the bike gave both Rommel and him a chance to stretch out the soreness and get back in the groove before trying to make time riding.

The bike was working out great on the rails but it was a handful to push with the outrigger's folded. He had started out with the load balanced but the unpacking and repackaging, as well as using consumables had changed that balance. It was now heavier on the outrigger side than the over, not a tremendous amount but enough to be noticeable when it leaned too far over toward him.

Steve and Rommel pushed on in silence, content to enjoy each other's company, with nature providing background to their thoughts. Steve's allowed himself to think of Home and his family, especially his wife, and Rommel whatever dogs "think" of, probably his next meal.

Steve turned off US-17 onto a dirt side road that led into the forest. He had spotted something that had possibilities. A large mound of dirt just behind a stand of trees might afford him a good stopping place. The spot looked like a contractor had started to build but then had abandoned the area, leaving behind mounds of dirt piled up when leveling the ground. Nature was well along in recovering what was rightfully her's as Steve explored the area.

Steve found a spot giving him access but also cover from the road. The bike was inanimate so would not generate heat to be spotted from the air. Rommel and him were another story. If he could dig into the bank of dirt he could fashion a small cave that would hide their heat signature by the mass of the earth. Since he planned to stay over until late tomorrow night it would be worth the effort.

Wishing he had brought an entrenching tool to use instead of his small trowel, he started digging. He used the trowel normally to dig a latrine to answer nature's call, but it would make do for digging.

The bank was solid enough to maintain its shape without collapsing but soft enough to allow digging without too much effort. After watching him dig for a few minutes Rommel decided he didn't want to participate in Steve's fun. He wandered off to do whatever dogs do when their human slaves will not play with them or feed them.

Steve spent two hours digging and sweating before he was satisfied with his cave. Deep enough to afford shelter but not deep enough for the roof to overcome the force that held it in check. It was not really high enough to sit up in but it would give him a safe hideout if he needed it. Steve moved some fallen branches over the entrance to hide it from a casual search. It would not stand up to a detailed search but he planned to avoid giving anyone a reason to search here in the first place.

Steve slid his plastic ground cloth into the small cave then he removed his packs and slid them into the side niche he had made just for them. The niche would keep them out of his way but close by if he needed them.

Rommel returned just in time for midrats (1), his timing perfect to avoid work.


Steve decided he had done as much as he could to make it a safe hideaway for now, so he prepared his meal. Making sure Rommel was fed first, and while watching him devour his food, Steve dug a small hole for his alcohol burner. He took out the small square of diamond mesh that had been forgotten until he had found it while repackaging his supplies. He had cut it to place over a hole for his cup to rest on while heating. It was much more stable than what he had been using and could be used to cook small pieces of food if he had the time and security.

"Must be getting old," he thought, "shouldn't be forgetting things like this."

Steve had thought about adding a Sterno stove to his pack to be used with his burner but kept putting it off. He had even bought one, just never got around to putting it in his cache.

Well you can't remember everything nor can you carry everything so he would just make do, he thought.

As he waited for the water to boil he turned on his GPS to allow it to sync. He had noticed how low his food supply was when he was packing. Feeding a dog and four adults had taxed his supplies beyond what he had planned for. He had enough food for two more meals after tonight. Rommel still had plenty of food but dog chow was not worth looking forward to, even if dogs seemed to relish it. The water started boiling so he took it off and dumped in his last Ramen noodle pack.

The GPS synced up, finding at least four satellites to draw from. Steve casually noticed he was 45 feet above sea level as he wrote down his coordinates on the small pad he habitually carried. He would transfer them to his map, then use them to calculate his route once he entered his cave. Steve had the coordinates to all of his small secondary caches coded on his map. There were two between here and home that were close enough to use to replenish his supplies, should he need to. It looked like the need was there so he would make his plans to stop by the closest one first.

He finished his meal and decided to call it a night. He decided he would sleep until he woke up naturally then spend the day checking his gear, making any repairs needed and clean his SKS. It had crossed a river and been carried through forest as well as riding on his handlebars. It had also been fired recently (had it only been yesterday?) so Steve wanted to give it a good cleaning.

Most importantly he needed to find a source of water. He was not on the route he had mapped out and so needed to find a source to draw from.

Steve cleaned up his site, packing up his burner as well as his grate and cup after giving them a good cleaning. The last thing he needed was another bout of gastrointestinal distress.

He snuggled down into his burrow then pulled his screen of brush over the opening. Even though he had made room for Rommel the pup was reluctant to join Steve, deciding to lay down at the entrance instead.

Steve checked the cell phone but could not get a signal. He realized he felt exhausted, mentally as well as physically. He settled in and closed his eyes.

(1) Midrats - Military term for midnight rations, a meal served around midnight for the afternoon and night shifts.

[Christian for Israel]

Chap 25 - Nightmares

Firefights, attempted rapes and death haunted Steve's sleep. Each nightmare revolved around Diane and her family. Steve finally got up after fighting those images for three hours. Rommel was off on his own leaving Steve to deal with them alone.

He kept going over the things he had done, and what he might have done different. The old truck was getting low on fuel, and with rationing, the chances of resupply were slim. He had learned of a number of deaths, of people trying to steal gas from someone's car, from listening to his radio. Donna was the kind of person that would never change. She had lost a husband and been almost raped, yet she still lived in another world from the one Steve traveled.

Steve had given Diane his best advice on what to do. He had also slipped her a 38spl revolver he had found, under the seat of the truck, along with a half a box of shells. He had told her to keep it hidden from her mother since she was the type to loathe guns even in these screwed up times. Steve supposed he could have been forceful with Donna but he would have had to tie her up and throw her in the back of the truck with a gag to quiet her.

The only time he had been physical with a female had been once when home from bootcamp. He had gone to a nightclub to listen to the band and enjoy his newfound adulthood. A woman, really just a girl, had started harassing him, demanding he buy her a drink, then belittling him when he refused. This was all new to him so before he made a mistake he decided to leave. The girl followed him out to his car followed by a group of onlookers. Just before he got to the door she grabbed his arm, digging in her fingernails. Before he could stop himself he delivered a backhand to her jaw opening his fist at the last moment. She was staggered backwards by the blow barely maintaining her feet. As Steve got in the car he saw her turn to a guy that had been nearby and point at him. To the guy's credit he just pushed her away and returned to the club with the rest of the group.

Steve's Grandfather had been a great shoulder to lean on when he returned home. He advised his Grandson on what was a different part of life than what he had experienced before. He told Steve that as long as a woman acts like a woman he had better treat them like one or he would answer to him. On the flip side, if a woman acted like a man then treat her like a man and it sounded like he had acted appropriately. Steve had avoided traps like that in the future, preferring to leave early instead of risking confrontation with a male friend who had too much to drink and too few brain cells working. That type of male only had one thing on his mind and thought standing up for a woman's "honor" would entitle him to future benefits. Most of the time the only benefits they would receive would be a painful education, if they were lucky, death if they chose the wrong person to stand up too.

Steve opened his pack and retrieved his small New Testament. It was light enough to read and since he was celebrating the Sabbath he decided that reading might be the best thing to settle him.

Rommel returned and looked both happy and hungry. Steve glanced at his watch and realized he had been reading and praying for over an hour. He also realized he was no longer melancholy, but felt mentally rested if still tired physically.

Steve thought this would be a good time to search for water especially since Rommel's fur was wet!

"Let's go boy," He said after fixing the dog his food and watching him empty the bowl just as fast, "Let's find some water."

Taking his web gear and his empty water bottles, as well as his rifle and his filter, he started off following Rommel.

Rommel had been with him as he had filled his bottles using the filter before. Steve guessed the dog somehow associated the bottles and filter with needing a water source and led him to a good size pond. Steve thanked his partner with a playful hug and a good chest scratch after carefully checking for company.

Rommel still wanted to play but Steve wanted to refill his supply as soon as possible, playtime could wait till later. He filled the first bottle then drank his fill before filling the others and refilling the one he had drank from.

His water supplies replenished he headed over to a group of cattails he had noticed while filling the bottles. He figured the shoots and flower's would be a good supplement to his meager food supplies (1).

"God supplies our needs," he thought to himself 'if we take time for him"

Steve returned to his small camp and started the shoots boiling. He would have liked to have a small fire to cook the flowers he had gathered. He would have used the small piece of aluminum foil he carried to wrap the flowers in. Adding in a little water before closing them and placing them on the coals would have steamed them just like corn on the cob.

Adding a little garlic and onion powder to the boiling mixture as well as a little salt for flavor soon gave him a nutritious meal.

"Could use a little butter," he thought "have to add some Butter Buds (2) to my kit next time the manure hits the rotary impeller"

Steve finished his meal, cleaned up and opened up his map of Georgia. Following the rail line he wanted with his finger he compared his GPS location with the coordinates at its nearest point to him. He had penned onto the map at various spots along the route home GPS coordinates to make it easy to judge distances and time.

He was about five miles away from the nearest rail line and calculated he was about two days from Brunswick, Ga. He would be about four or five days from home at this rate barring anymore trouble.

It was a little after 3 in the afternoon by the time he finished his plans.

"Guess I had better get a move on if I want to get the SKS cleaned," He thought.

He took out his cleaning kit from his pack and opened it up. It was a surplus East German cleaning kit originally for the AK (3), but worked great for any .30 caliber weapon.

He opened up the decontamination box he had stored it in and took out the pieces. He used the plastic decontamination box because it was slightly lighter and it had a watertight seal. It also allowed him to add a few additional supplies. It would keep water out, and if any fluid inside leaked it would hold it inside the box instead of leaking all over his supplies.

He dropped the pull-through weight down the barrel, after attaching the brush. He added a few drops of Hoppes(from the small bottle he had added to the kit) and pulled it through the barrel.

Steve continued cleaning the gun, enjoying the time and even the smell of the cleaning fluids. He was just finishing up the job, applying oil to the necessary spots when Rommel returned from another round of "spray the neighborhood". The dog snorted at the smell lingering from the cleaning task, and looked at Steve as if to say "OK bud finish up and get my dinner, oh and wash those smelly hands!"

Steve smiled at the dog's look and actions and stored the cleaning supplies back in their box. He washed his hands with liquid soap from a little bottle he carried, and retrieved the bag of dog food from his cave.

Steve filled Rommel's bowl full of the dry nuggets, and added a couple of doggie treats to reward the pup. Once Rommel had finished his meal Steve spent some time playing with the dog and just letting his mind idle. The constant strain of being on the move and in a combat state of mind was fatiguing and could lead to mistakes. That was the reason Steve took a day off, to refresh himself mentally and let his body recharge. While he played with Rommel he was also checking the dog's wounds. Rommel's wounds had healed over nicely no longer needing daily care. Steve was glad he could stop worrying about the dog getting an infection from the wounds. Regular eating and exercise had Rommel looking lean and healthy again. Steve was glad he had found the pup, both for the company he provided as well as the extra security he provided.


After playtime was over Rommel curled up and took a nap while Steve made his evening meal. The sun had started going down and as the evening shadows grew he sat back to enjoy the final moments of the day. Sipping his last cup of coffee he thought back over the events that had happened since his hijacking. He also thought back to the times he and his wife had spent sitting on the back porch watching the sun go down together, and allowed himself the luxury of missing her once again.


(1) Cattails - http://members.aol.com/keninga/cattail.htm or http://www.edibleplants.com/month/cattail.htm
(2) Butter Buds - http://www.butterbuds.com/
(3) Cleaning Kit - http://www.ishop.co.uk/ishop/800/shopscr435.html

[Christian for Israel]

Chap 26 - On the road again

Steve tried to awaken from his slumber in response to Susan's sobs. He
didn't know why she was crying and couldn't wake up enough to ask. He just
rolled over and put his arm over her, feeling her fuzzy nightgown she wore
on their "off" nights. Had he been dreaming? Was getting highjack'd just a
bad nightmare in which he would wake up to find the world still normal?

As his arm fell across his shaking wife's body he awoke with a start.
Adrenaline glands once again a faucet for hormones supercharging every nerve
ending in his body.

It all came back in a rush, the highjack, the injury and the long trip home
to his family. And Rommel! It was not his wife's sobbing but Rommel's deep
internal growling, an almost sub-vocal warning, that woke him.

Something was wrong, he didn't know what yet, but the dog didn't like
whatever it was. How long he had been growling Steve didn't know, probably
only seconds, but Steve knew that he had taken too long to react. He had gone
to bed after letting the feeling for his family and his emotions escape from
the locked room he kept inside his head for them. He had fallen asleep with
them still running lose, a mistake he could not afford to make and stay
alive and free.

Steve let his ears search for clues as to what the danger was, while his eyes
took in environmental information that his brain processed at super speed. If
there was danger nearby, he needed to find it before it found him.

His eyes transmitted the signal that dusk had arrived, his skin sensors that
the air was cool and still. His ears picked up nature's silence as well as
man made vibrations nearby.


It seemed like hours to his hormone charged brain, but in fact had been mere
microseconds, before he mentally processed the information that identified
the problem. Two Hummer's and a Six by (1) had pulled off the road near his
hideaway. He recognized the sound of the truck engines from his time spent
in service. Way to much time spent in those type vehicles imprinted their
unique sound into his subconscious. The mental sound fingerprint was
recovered and compared by his organic computer faster than the best silicon
based system could ever hope to match. It made available type, location and
approximate number of vehicles to his conscious now that it was fully alert.

The next question was what were they doing here and why now? Had he somehow
been discovered? He mentally cursed himself for taking a day off and letting
down his guard even as another part of his subconscious recognized the need
to recharge after so long in "combat mode".

One thing he didn't know was how many, and that was something only his eyes
could tell him. They didn't seem to be searching for anything as they stayed
near the road. Steve felt Rommel's warning tremors through the arm he had
draped over the dog in his sleep. He patted the animal, reassuring him and
letting him know that his master was awake and back on the job.

Steve slithered out of his burrow, and using every skill and trick he had
ever learned while walking point, moved closer to the group. He soon found
an observation point that allowed him to see without being seen. He realized
he did not have to worry about the group discovering him. They would not
have heard a herd of buffalo running right through the middle of their camp.

In the failing light Steve counted 14 men, looking more like a green National
Guard group, than an experienced regular military squad. Steve was thankful
for that fact, since he would not think of moving unless he had to, if he
faced trained and alert troops.

They seemed to be setting up camp, but like Boy Scout's on a campout, not
military on a search and destroy mission. Steve noticed the Homeland
Security emblem on the side of their transportation alerting him to their
purpose. They must be out insuring the general population was obeying the
government's executive orders or possibly "showing the flag" to ensure the
locals their government was on the job. They were not expecting a trained
warrior to be nearby, just a docile population based on their actions so
far.

Apparently they were just here for the night, but he could not take the
chance. They might be preparing to set up a random checkpoint to stop people
from doing just what he had done the previous night, travel along this road
avoiding the expressway with its checkpoints.

Steve returned to his hideout after observing them finish their campout
preparations. He noticed they only had one man sloppily posted for a guard
and he was standing by the vehicle's watching the comedic efforts of the
others, not watching for approaching trouble.

Steve slid back into his hole and covered the opening with its brush screen.
He took his poncho and pushed it across the door to hide any light that
might escape, then carefully opened his map. He traced the dirt road they
were on looking for a back door since the group stood between him and his
planned route.

He could follow the same well used game trail to the pond he had drawn water
from, and possibly on beyond, since he had noticed it paralleling the water
source. He found that the road crossed over another two-lane blacktop road
about three miles further. He could travel along that until he could
intersect his chosen railway.

He once again left his cave and retrieved his bike from its hidden garage.
Pushing it quietly back to his supplies he quickly loaded the packs onboard.
Once he had everything packed he took a deep breath then rechecked each
tie-down and each pack making sure is was secure and that nothing was loose
or hanging down. It would not do to have a strap catch in a wheel or on some
bush giving him away.

Steve placed the sling of the camouflage painted, Vietnam era, plastic
stocked, SKS over his head before starting off. He wanted the rifle on his
person instead of its normal place on the bike in case he needed to leave

the bike in a hurry.

He pushed the bike carefully along the trail mindful of the brush along the
path. Rommel had gone on ahead, sensing his intention through some
instinct that Steve could only guess at. The dog was almost an extension of

Steve, sometimes acting on his own and sometimes as if his master had given
him orders. Never had Steve owned a dog that seemed to know exactly what was
expected of him, "well most of the time" Steve thought to himself, and he
had owned a few in his life.

The trail widened at the pond then narrowed back as it curved back away
toward the road. Steve and Rommel followed the trail until they were about
three-quarters of a mile away from the Government posse behind them.

Finding a less dense area Steve left the trail and crossed through until he
came to a shallow ditch. Pushing the bike at an angle he easily crossed the
dry sandy banks and turned left toward the blacktop a few miles ahead.

They soon arrived at the deserted road and after watching for a short while
he mounted the bike and headed for the distant rails. His path took him
farther away from a direct path, but it was safer to avoid the keystone cops
behind him, than risk a confrontation with them if discovered. Trying to take
on over two dozen armed men, no matter how ill trained they were, was pure
suicide. Better to run away and leave the one-man heroics to the armchair
commandos and their California "wanna be governor" leader.

Once on the hard surfaced road he mounted the bike. Riding was faster though
he wanted to ride at a pace that Rommel could keep up with. Since he had
repacked his supplies the bike rode much better and with less weight was
easier to peddle. Of course less weight meant his consumables were low.
Thankfully he had prepared several mini caches to fix that problem.

It seemed so odd in this day of modern electricity to find himself riding
along a country road with only the moon's glow to guide him. He could not
see any man made light anywhere around him. According to his short wave the
government had imposed additional restrictions on power and fuel. Their
reason was to curtail the ability of terrorist to move around the country
and make it easier for law enforcement to find them.

Steve doubted the new restriction would be any more effective than the
limits already imposed on a willing population who would give up any freedom
for the illusion of safety and one more government sponsored freebee. Of
course not everyone was willing to go along with the program. Crime was up,
especially highjacking's (as Steve had personable knowledge of), and theft
of food and fuel. The office of Homeland Security had expanded the
definition of terrorist to include normal criminals as well as those that
refused to give up their personal freedoms. Steve kept expecting to hear
everytime he turned the radio on, about open warfare between the "Militia"
and the government that tried to exercise greater power and more
restrictions each day.

"When would they learn," he thought. There would always be someone to stand
up for freedom and justice. Sounds corny and old fashioned, but it was still
true. Oppress the masses long enough and they will revolt. History had
proven that out many times over. Even modern methods of control could not
change that fact, only slow it down.

The Airfree (2) tires sang a song as they rode over the rough asphalt. He
had heard about them from a forum he frequented and tried them out at home,
before trusting them on his bugout steed. Not having to worry about getting
a flat tire, which always happened at the worst possible time, was a big
plus for him. He had ordered the higher rated tires for their lower rolling
resistance even at the expense of a harsher ride. Comfort had to take a back
seat to efficiency though he had countered that by buying a frame and seat
that would smooth out the bumps some.

Steve rode along the dark roadway, without even the dim LED driving lights
on, and Rommel trotting easily beside the bike he could not help humming
quietly the old Willie Nelson tune "on the road again".

(1) Six by Six wheel drive, two and one half ton cargo truck in wide
spread use in the military since WW II. Known as a deuce and a half, Six by
Six or just six by to the troops.
(2) Airfree Tires- http://www.airfreetires.com/
posted 10-10-3 0621p

[Christian for Israel]

Chap 27 - The Cache

Big Gun was pleased. He had directed three attacks in and around the
Whitehouse, Fl area and planned to move the gang next toward the small town
of McClenny, Fl.

His boys had overwhelmed the homeowners with firepower and aggression, and had
lost only five, with three others wounded. In this semi rural area homes were on
bigger lots and were more isolated, which was perfect for his purposes as the
people had not networked or set up mutual assist groups, still believing the
sheriff would handle any trouble.

"At least not yet," he thought to himself "that would probably change as
soon as the word of his attacks got out".

That was the reason for moving his attacks around. He was too street smart to
linger long in one spot. Sooner or later, the people got tired of his gang
terrorizing them and fought back. Better to move on to a new town before too
many of his gang got themselves killed or wounded. That was bad for morale,
and for his leadership.

He still had his eye on a couple of prime farms, but his last trip into the
area had him still worried.

"Worried, Bullsh$#, scared sh#$less was more like it," he mumbled to
himself.

They had found a couple of houses with small stockpiles of food, though
those same houses were the ones that offered the most resistance. The ones
that had caused the deaths of his boyz, the ones whose residents had
suffered the most when finally overrun.


"Those had provided some fun for the group" he smiled at the thought "their
screams and pleading for mercy had offered relief from the pain of losing
members of the gang."

Still he felt a chill at the memory of cold eyes and hard steel that would
haunt him for the rest of his life, or until he looked into those same eyes
and saw them filled with pain when HE was holding the knife.

He laughed at that thought, helped by the crack cocaine coursing through his
system. He had rarely indulged, except to share a few hits with the gang
after each victory. But lately he found himself drawn more and more into the
fantasy world brought on by the illegal smoke.

They had slowly killed the one male that had fought them off for over an
hour. His wife begging and crying as they tortured him to death, then they
stripped her and tied her down as the gang members took her one by one. She
was a little to old for his taste, so he left them to it preferring to enjoy
the trip he was on by himself.

The block house had withstood the largely ineffectual fire from their
handguns for a long time (1). Stopping round after round from their 9mm's,
even though the light blue exterior was pockmarked and cracked. Only when
the boys had brought out their artillery in the form of stolen rifles had
they managed to penetrate the walls. Even then, they had taken losses, until a
bullet had finally reached the shooters inside.

The chemical high gave him a false boldness and he saw his victory over the
phantom in vivid details and the many ways he would take the younger female
from that one homestead after the battle.

+++++++++++++++++++++++
Susan was getting nervous again. Things were getting very tense as
government restrictions and lawlessness increased. Food for many people was
in short supply.

All of her neighbors were simple country folk, but had enough sense to learn
from their grandparents and stock up. Canning was a way of life as was
having a garden and hunting. All means of extending a paycheck and giving
one an increased independence from society. Each family donated what they
felt they could spare to the local church to help the less prepared families
in the congregation. Still it was hardly enough and many people were feeling
the effects of short rations.

Word of a gang terrorizing homes just a little farther toward Jacksonville
also did not help the mood of the community. She sure would be glad when her
man arrived home. He had not called since that first time, the towers must
be out of service when he tried, she assured herself. She would not allow
herself to imagine the thought that Steve would not make it home. He had
always been a pillar of strength, always trying to insure the family was
taken care of.

His preparations had sometimes come between them, especially at first when
they had just gotten married and she had wanted some of the things other
couples seemed to have, like trips to Disney and the Mountains. Finally she
had relented and just learned to live with it for the most part. Sometimes
his purchases had still infuriated her when she could not understand the
purpose and he could not explain it enough, like a few of his more expensive
gun toys as she called them.

Susan smiled as she thought how lucky she was now that Steve had been the
head of the family and stuck to his guns. He had firmly but lovingly kept
explaining his reasons and his thoughts until she calmed down and accepted
his guidance.

"He sure was right on this time," She thought with a grim smile. The inventory of the storeroom and pantry had surprised her. She had not expected to find the amounts of stored food that he had slowly amassed without her notice. His runs for extra cash just now making sense to her. When their daughter had given her the tally sheet and she had seen the amounts of wheat, corn, beans, and foodstuffs, not to mention spices and the other things needed to maintain life, she had broken down and cried. How could she had doubted Steve's dedication to the family? She had even accused him of having someone on the side when he had first started making extra long distance runs. Now she wished she could have him here to thank him and apologize for her stupidity!

The thoughts of how she would make it up to him when he arrived home flooded
her mind and brought a smile to her face as she waited for her man.
+++++++++++++++++++

Steve and Rommel lay in a depression watching the cache site. They had
traveled hard since finding the tracks, and once more were riding the rails.

Steve had almost ridden past the cache, and would have, if his GPS had not
alerted him. Setting the waypoint alarm had been a good thing. Steve was
tired. The long trip to the cache had meant pushing himself farther than he
would have liked to, but he wanted to reach the site today.

He had hidden this cache in an out of the way spot under a railway trestle
that had just been rebuilt the month before he hid the cache. Two 5-gallon
buckets capped with Gamma Lids (2) waited on him. Steve figured it would be
awhile before the trestle needed repair or maintenance and would not be the
first spot a treasure hunter would pick to search.

They arrived just before dawn after traveling all night, Steve wanted to be
in a position to watch the area a while before digging them up at dusk. He
had chosen the depression after searching through surrounding area and determined it was the perfect spot. It gave him cover and concealment while still giving him a
great view of the cache.

Rommel soon tired of the waiting game and took off to do important dog stuff
after giving Steve a look that said "I'm off to see the world you best be
here when I get back".

Sometimes Steve couldn't help but love that dog. He sure made the hardship
interesting.


Steve watched the site for awhile before falling asleep, curled up in his
sleeping bag, his head inside the mosquito head netting.

Steve awoke to Rommel's nudges, coming fully awake at the first touch. He
told the dog that he was gonna get shot sneaking up on him like that.

"Yea right, you couldn't hear me if I walked on rice paper" was the look he
got in return.

"Smart Alec" whispered Steve as he gave the dog a hug and a head scratch,
"Guess its time for dinner, right boy?"

Steve carefully retreated to the spot he had left the bike, away from the
cache. He lifted the brush he had used to cover the bike, after checking
for unwanted reptiles, and retrieved Rommel's food. Once Rommel was taken
care of, he ate the last of his ready food and returned to watch the cache
site.

Steve was willing to bet the cache had never been touched, but since he had
the time why not be sure?

Steve dozed until late afternoon when he decided he had waited long enough.
Carefully taking a circuitous route he slowly moved through the soft mud on
the banks of the sickly green covered water that stood underneath the dark
dank bridge. The banks were overgrown much more now, than when he had
buried the cache, with cattails and other low wetland plants, making the
trip much harder and slower. Reaching the black timbers of the bridge he
carefully ducked under while watching out for brown recluses or black widows,
as well as undesirable reptiles.

He had chosen to wear only his web gear, and to carry his rifle and small

trowel, leaving the rest of his gear with the bike under Rommel's care.

Kneeling in the moist dirt he inspected the area for tampering and finding
none that stood out, started to dig.

He first measured three feet down from the left rail and two feet in from
the crossbeam. He dug into the bank until he came to a sealed plastic
bundle. He quickly unwrapped the package and tore open the inner
vacuum-sealed pouch to retrieve a small trifold shovel. It was not his first
choice as a digging instrument, but it was compact and cheap enough to throw
away.

He rechecked his coded notes and started measuring again. Steve dug down
until he reached the first bucket, brushed the dirt away then unscrewed the
lid, though with considerable effort. Reaching into the bucket he removed the
canvas bundle from the interior and looped its strap over his head. Steve
had bought a red Gamma lid for the bucket whose contents contained the
firearm in case he forgot, the other lid was grey. It was a minor thing but
he had tried to simplify the cache as much as possible. He knew that he
might not be able to dig up the buckets for one reason or the other, and by
using a simple system of measures to locate the cache and color coding the
buckets, whoever he sent could quickly find the correct container.

One last time he measured, this time from the right rail, and dug down to
the second bucket. He had separated the container's hoping that if one was
discovered the other would be missed, fortunately they were both intact and
undisturbed. He quickly worked the second canvas bundle of goodies out of
its snug tomb then screwed the lid back. Having secured both bundles, he
worked to refill the holes with the dirt he had removed. Since he was
reasonably sure he was alone, he took the time to make the area look as
natural as possible. He packed and graded the black dirt, scattered leaves
and other refuse around making it look as pristine as he had found it. It
wouldn't do for a military inspector to think the trestle had been mined
because he was careless. They might start looking for someone to blame and
Steve didn't want to be the one they found.

Steve cautiously emerged from under the Rail Bridge carrying his two bundles
over his shoulder by their straps. This was the most vulnerable time and he
had to be careful not to let down his guard.

He had sewn the two carry bags out of heavy canvas, adding a surplus zipper
and a canvas strap to simplify removing the contents out of the buckets and
to make transporting easier, then coated them with a waterproofing compound.
It was a lot faster to reach in and remove the bags than trying to dig up
the whole bucket or trying to carry individual items and the straps made
carrying the gear much easier. When Steve prepared the cache he didn't know
if he would have his bike and packs when he needed to dig it up, so he had
planned accordingly.

He had used an indelible marker on each strap, marking one with the number
one and the other with a large "2". He knew that first one had the small
Rossi .38spl in case he needed a firearm quickly. He had planned the cache's
contents with the thought in mind that he might have nothing at all when he
retrieved them. He tried to include a diversity of items he might need to
survive, regardless of the season, weather, or political atmosphere. He had
thought long and hard about including a firearm, constantly weighing the
pros and cons. He finally decided on a small revolver that could be left
loaded and ready to fire. Steve had hoped to find a stainless pistol but
could not find one in the price range he wanted to spend. The Rossi was a
dependable weapon and by vacuum sealing the pistol, after placing it into a
Rust Inhibiting bag (3), along with two ammo wallets made them as moisture
proof as possible.

Rather than going through the contents now, like a kid at Christmas, he
decided to travel as far as possible tonight, then examine the bags in the
morning. He didn't need anything in the bags at this time, and could afford
the wait even though he wanted to plunder its contents.

Retrieving his bike he looped the carry straps over the handlebars making
sure the bags were secure. Rommel was glad to see him, but after giving him a
quick head rub, Steve started pushing the bike through the heavy brush and
vines. Reaching the rails once again, he placed the railbike on the narrow
metal road towards home.

The miles along the tracks passed slowly for Steve as he let his thoughts
wander back to home and his family. Loosing his concentration as he thought
of Susan, he almost missed the tree that had fallen down across the tracks.

Steve braked the bike quickly down to a stop as the danger signal from his
eyes bullied its way through the comfort of his wife's arms and demanded he
take notice. He once again mentally slapped himself alert, grabbed his
rifle and dove to the ground, expecting a trap.

When nothing happened except for that stupid grin on Rommel's face, Steve got
up off the ground and brushed off his clothes.

Rommel looked at him as if to say "What were you doing? If it had been
anything important I would have let you know, now let's get going I'm getting
hungry." With that the dog jumped down from his throne and went to water the
grass and to check out his kingdom again.

Steve looked at the tree, which would not have slowed up a train, but barred
his path home, and decided to leave it alone and to go around the area. He
folded the outriggers once more and looked for a route around the obstacle.
The undergrowth was thick in this area and had grown up close to the railbed
making passage difficult. Once he had pushed through the heavier brush
growing along the tracks and had passed the first line of towering pine
trees, the undergrowth thinned some, allowing him to finally turn left and
circle around the fallen tree.

He soon had the bike back on the track with nothing more than some lost time
and a handful of green brush and reddish thorny vines stuck in the bike
frame. He had a few scratches, as well, from some of the thicker thorn covered
vines that would need attention later. Rommel showed up just as he stepped
through the frame and sat on the seat, somehow knowing when Steve was ready
to pedal off.

Steve spent the rest of the night concentrating on the job at hand,
determined to maintain the vigilance needed to avoid mistakes that could be
fatal.


(1) Penetration test - http://www.canmasonry.com/project.pdf
(2) Gamma Lids - http://waltonfeed.com/gamaseal.html
(3) The Inhibitor - http://kleenbore.bizland.com/store/product401.html

[Christian for Israel]

Chap 28 - The Fall

Steve could not remember what had happened for a moment. One second he was
riding along watching the forest and surrounding area's for any signs of
trouble and the next he was waking up with Rommel licking his face. He
looked up from where he had fallen face down on the streambed and saw his
bike lying on its side with the outrigger pointing up like the single horn
on the fabled unicorn.

Then he remembered. He had tried so hard to avoid making a mistake that he
had made one. The right hand rail (the one the bike rode on) had a small
unobtrusive obstruction on it, probably dropped from a passing train. It was
lying across the track with one edge wedged against a cross-tie. A train
engine would not even notice it, but a rail-bike would not be so lucky. The
obstruction had derailed the bike and sent him flying over the handlebars.
His shin had struck the headstock hard, very hard. He had then tumbled down
the embankment toward the muddy, s*** covered water flowing under the small
bridge. The bike had come to a stop in the soft dirt beyond the rocky
rail-bed. From what he could see, the bike was not harmed, which was some good
news in light of the cir***stances.

Steve pushed up and immediately sat back down as pain rolled over him like
waves pushed ashore by a class 5 hurricane. His lower leg throbbed
for attention now that he was awake and alert. The sudden burst of pain brought
a cry on anguish from his lips as he struggled to come to grips with this
new problem.

He needed to get his bike into a safe hiding place before a train came by or
a local resident out for some off-season hunting discovered him. Steve first
slid back beside a thin sapling and gingerly rolled up his pant leg and
looked at the scraped and bruised skin below. Not seeing anything sticking
out that should not be he tried once more to stand using the sapling as a crutch.
Steve tried to ignore the nausea that rolled through his stomach along
with each heartbeat and pulled himself erect. He slowly put his weight
onto the leg, very slowly. Sweating from the exertion and pain, he
managed to fully stand without holding on to the tree.

"Now to try to walk." He said through tightly clenched teeth.

Steve took his first hobbling step and almost fell once again onto the
mucky, s*** covered stream bank due to the white-hot blast of pain that shot
up from the leg.

"Well, Injured or not I'm all I've got, so tough it up big boy," Thought Steve
as he started his halting journey to retrieve his bike and supplies.

Determined to get to the bike he took another step, each one an effort
paramount to climbing the steps in the Empire State Building. Finally
reaching his first goal he looked down to find his initial observation about the
bikes condition had been correct. Though the paint was scratched and dirt
had filled every crevice and opening, it looked in good shape. Buying a good
strong bike and the airless tires, even though expensive, was a blessing to
him now. He would have to clean the SKS. Though it had remained with the
bike it looked like it had most of Georgia clinging to it.

Steve took a moment to catch his breath and to mentally prepare himself for
the next task. He looked at the bike and the surrounding area and planned
his moves. Bracing against the expected pain in his leg he slowly reached
for the outrigger and pulled it down while trying to ignore his discomfort.
The bike rotated upright on its tires while dropping a large amount of
unwanted debris from the frame and packs.

Holding on to the bike, he released the pins keeping the outrigger in place
and folded it along side the bike. The concern and determination had enabled
him to sublimate the pain into the background, but it threatened to surface
again, as he pushed the bike into the undergrowth looking for a campsite. The brush
and undergrowth seemed like miles of tangle foot wire that threatened to trip
him with each step he took, as he looked for a overnight stopping spot.

He finally located a suitable location some 50 yards into the woods, not
perfect but he had reached the limit of his pain tolerance and needed to
stop, regardless. With his bike safe at hand he sank wearily down favoring
his injured shin. Steve reached up to the handlebars and removed the two
bags from the cache that somehow had remained attached, though twisted around the front tubing.

He had read somewhere that the most prevalent injuries are sprains and cuts,
so he had prepared heavily for those events. From canvas bag number one he
removed the drawstring bag that held his first aid kit. He located the cold
pack and an "Ace" bandage.

His shin had become a steady source of irritation now that he had stopped,
begging for his attention. He opened a small bottle of Ibuprofen and
swallowed three tablets to ease the pain. He then wrapped one layer of the
bandage around the injury. He then ruptured the inner bag of the cold pack
per the directions printed on it and shook the whole pack until he could
feel the cold seeping out. He placed the bag over his injured shin and
wrapped it with the rest of the bandage to hold it in place.

Resting for a moment while the pain pills took effect he evaluated his
position, mentally slapping his face for being here in the first place.
His campsite could have been better, but it had bushes and briars blocking
access on two sides. One side had a downed pine tree across it but the
fourth side was open.

Through all the effort of the past few minutes, Rommel had remained nearby
watching with a look of concern as Steve stumbled through the forest. Rommel
now lay close by, alert to any danger that might threaten his master.

Steve removed his ponchos and ground cloth from their storage location and
opened them up. He spread the ground cloth beneath him with only a small
gasp of pain when he lifted his leg to pull the plastic underneath it. He

prepared his poncho like a lean-to, using spikes as tent pegs on the lower
end and 550 cord around the fallen tree to secure the top. Steve pulled the
bike closer to the open side and covered it with the remaining poncho. It
would camouflage the bike and offer some protection on that side.

The icepack and the pain pills had dulled the throbbing pain in the leg to
a tolerable level, but the effort to establish the camp had about done Steve
in. He lay back and called Rommel to him. The dog got up and slowly walked
over to him and lay back down. Steve looked Rommel over in case the pup had
received any injuries when the bike slid off the rail and rolled. Finding
the animal ok Steve gave him a good rub down and chest scratch, which put
both of them in a better mood and offered a distraction from the throbbing
discomfort in his leg.

"Ok, now let’s see what's for dinner," Steve said to Rommel. He removed
Rommel's bowl from its saddlebag and drug the food bag over to his position.
He filled the bowl with food and water then lay back to watch the food
disposal work.

Shaking his head and grinning at Rommel, Steve open his cache bags and
checked the contents.

From the canvas bag with the number one on its sling, Steve removed the
vacuum-sealed inner bags, along with items that had not needed sealing due
to size or already being sealed. He spread the various items before him and
removed the inventory cards from their Ziploc bag. He had wanted a means to
remind him of the total contents and to remember what each pouch contained.
The old-fashioned IBM cards filled the bill nicely.

Since he did not feel like cooking a meal, he looked for the bag marked with
an "A" in red. This was his emergency meal pack. He had made it with the
thought that he might be on the run and needing nourishment fast and
remain mobile. He had included a small pack of vitamins, a "power bar", a
"Slim Jim" stick (for fat and salt), and a can of chocolate "Boost" drink.
The can added weight but was intended to be used first, and then discarded.
He opened the can of Boost and sipped the cool contents.

"Not too bad," he thought. A welcome change from the water he had been drinking.
He opened the other food items, placed them beside him and said grace.

With his hunger taken care of, he continued with his inventory of bag number one.
He moved the cache items into his other packs as he checked off each one.

1-first aid pouch, already opened
1- .38spl loaded
50rds - .357 ammo (for rifle)
2-ammo wallets with 12rds each
1-tan "jump" suit
2-pair cotton socks
1-pair polypropylene socks
1-light weight flannel "sweat suit" dark blue
1-pair canvas hiking shoes (fit better in the bucket than boots)
1-fire starting kit (candle, matches, flint bar)
1-small flashlight with lithium batteries
1-mini bushman knife in sharpsquirrel kydex sheath
1- Water pouch
4– Coast Guard water pouches
1- Gal. Size Ziploc bag
1- Bottle polarpure
1- Canteen cup

1 – 6x6 heavy plastic (black)
25 - Foot 550 cord
1- Food pouch
5– MRE entrees
2– Sardines (for oil & meat)
1– Tube peanut butter
1– Pack “hardtack” crackers
1 – Hygiene pouch (soap, toothbrush, washcloth, baby wipes, foot powder, etc.)


Steve would save checking the other bag for later as he had almost forgot the SKS needed cleaning.

He opened his cleaning kit and, after brushing off all the dirt he could, proceeded to clean the internal parts. He opened the chamber now that the dirt was mostly gone and ejected the round. He then emptied the nine other ready rounds from the gun. He field stripped the rifle, then cleaned each piece with care. His life might depend upon how clean the gun was so he did not want to short change himself. He cleaned the barrel last, then after wiping each part with his oily rag, reassembled the SKS. He dropped in a new 10 round stripper clip full of ammo and once more the SKS was ready for use.

After repacking his cleaning kit and cleaning his hands, as best he could, he lay back once again to rest.

The bike was ok but the million-dollar question was, was he? The ice pack had warmed up to the point of being useless so he unwrapped the leg and removed the bag. He decided to leave the compression bandage off for a while to allow circulation through it. The ice bag had slowed the swelling down and helped control the pain though it still hurt like heck. He could see the indention where he had smacked it on the bike as he was launched over the handlebars.

“Must have looked real graceful there,” He thought “Just like a circus clown.”

Steve decided to take another set of OTC pain reliever and get some sleep. He would inventory the other bag when he woke up. It was weighted heavier on food supplies than bag number one and would enable him to complete his journey home without worrying about food.

He decided to change clothes since he felt he had been in his current ones for a month. Once again, his lower leg asserted itself by starting to throb when he tried to slide the pants leg off. He waited for the new dosage of painkiller to take effect then completed the job.

Since water was nearby, he thought he might as well clean up some. He soaped up his washcloth and proceeded to remove the filth and grime that will ac***ulate when you plow up ground with your body.


Finally clean, he opened the pouch with his jump suit and shook it out. Vacuum packing it compressed it into a small easily stored form but allowed it to return to normal size with a shake. Clean and dressed once again he felt like a new man excepting the aching shinbone, of course. He elevated the leg and got as comfortable as possible, he hoped he would be able to travel tonight but it would depend on the leg.

Steve woke up both hungry and with an aching leg. Fortunately, the leg seemed to be hurting less now that he had slept. It was stiff from being elevated but he was pretty sure it had sustained no permanent damage. He listened to his radio while he prepared his food using the earpiece to keep the noise down. Until he had more confidence in his ability to move he wanted to remain as hidden as possible.

The normal broadcast gave out a picture of improving conditions and a government that had everything in control. The shortwave broadcast he listened to gave out a different side to the news. They told of riots in the major cities that had almost overwhelmed law enforcement. Crime had risen sharply everywhere, so much that no one was keeping records anymore. It had become everyone for himself.

Steve felt a greater urgency than ever to get back home to his family. He hoped by now that his wife had discovered the extent of his preparations and was coping until he made it home.

[Christian for Israel]

Chap 29 – The Stranger

Steve had finished his inventory and re-packing it had been a welcome distraction from the discomfort of his leg. The leg had developed a knot the size of a hen’s egg and was very tender. Even the touch of his pants' fabric was enough to be felt.
Steve was just thankful that he had not broken his leg in the fall. That could have been fatal; at least it would have delayed his travel well past his available food supply.

Rommel had decided to roam off and chase little animals that just wanted to be left alone, leaving Steve by himself. Steve felt he could afford to rest another day before starting. Maybe the leg would be less sensitive by then and more easily stand the stress of pedaling. He made himself comfortable and enjoyed his first cup of coffee in 2 days. The hot brew (with cream and sugar!) seemed to relax him, even though it might have just been a mental thing.

++++++++++++

Susan had to force herself to stop checking the window every 5 minutes looking for her husband. She knew he was the most self-reliant man she had ever met and had made preparations to improve his chances should something happen, while he was away.

“Some over her objections,” she thought with regret, remembering one of her more vocal times.

One of the things she loved about Steve was the way he allowed her to be an equal partner in the marriage and to assist in the decision making process. She had helped them avoid some costly mistakes in the past, but once in a while she bumped the invisible line Steve drew and the “MAN” came out in him. She used all the weapons available to a woman to “convince” Steve she was right.

“A few times she won,” she thought, remembering the surrender and the time after. However, when Steve had his mind made up no amount of female firepower could penetrate his defenses nor would the lack of soft, personal attention change his decision. He had even remarked once, during a particular hot contest of wills, that she would get hungry and starve long before he got tired of sleeping on the couch!

Now she realized how right he had been to prepare for life’s downside, even when she saw only how good life was. Once more, she found herself staring out the window looking for her husband.

+++++++++++

The cracking of a dry stick and the rustling of leaves alerted Steve to company.
Lifting his SKS and flipping the safety off at the same time, he prepared for the worst. Steve wished Rommel had been here to give him a little more warning, but he would be as prepared as possible in any event. He slid around to face the sound, ignoring the renewed pain in his leg, while at the same time watching the other areas in case this was just a distraction from the real attack. So focused on an attack he almost missed the sudden voice that rang out from the forest.

“Hello the camp,” called a youthful voice.

“Sounds like he has watched too many westerns,” thought Steve as he tried to turn down the chemicals running freely through his veins.

“Hello the camp,” once again came the voice.

Steve could not detect any others around unless they were “REAL” good so he answered the voice.

“What can I do for you?” Steve said.

“May I come forward?” rang out a polite male voice.

Steve smiled at the manners the voice exhibited, but then in light of the current tensions he supposed he would be just as polite, if the situation was reversed. Weapons, and the willingness to use them, brought out the best, as well as the worst, in folks.

“Come ahead,” Steve answered still pointing the rifle towards the voice.

A young, good-looking man about 20 or so stood up next to a tree some distance away.

“He hasn’t had much military training, maybe some hunting experience,” thought Steve as he watched the youth walk slowly towards him. The young man walked warily but without really seeing like someone with “Bush” time hunting men would have.

Steve did not feel any danger from the boy (for that’s how Steve felt about him) as he watched him approach. The only weapon he could see was a hunting style knife on the boys left side. The fellow had on new looking blue jeans with a light green T-shirt and military style boots. He had a GI watch cap over his head but carried nothing else.

“I smelled your coffee and thought I might get a cup,” the boy said.

Steve added a mental checkmark to his mistake column. He had forgotten how far smells travel especially, in still air.

“I'm getting too old for this crap,” thought Steve “I've gotten mentally soft since getting out of the service. I can’t keep making mistakes and getting away with it. One of these days it will catch up with me if I don’t watch out.”

Those armchair commandos he had read comments from on the forums that thought the end of the world was going to consist of one firefight after the other wouldn’t survive 15 minutes if that happened.

Wishing he were at home on the couch sipping a cup of his wife’s spiced hot chocolate with her in his arms, instead of playing army in the woods Steve lowered the rifle and shifted back to his original spot.

“Have a seat,” Steve said as he motioned the boy in.

The young man, surprised at having a rifle pointed towards him as he had approached, now seemed to relax once he realized he would not be shot.

“Can I trouble you for a cup of coffee?” asked the boy.

Steve pulled his second cup out of his pack and after filling it with water, placed it on his stove over the burner to heat. The boy, who had introduced himself as Tim, watched every move Steve made with interest, paying close attention to Steve’s stove setup.

Tim watched the water heat like an alcoholic watched a beer being poured. Steve opened a pouch of instant coffee and stirred it into the boiling water.

“How do you like it?” asked Steve.

Tim glanced at Steve to see if he was kidding about having the accessories to go with the dark brew. Deciding Steve was serious, he said," two sugars if you have them."

Steve reached in his bag and opened the sugar container again. Pouring what he figured was about two teaspoons of the crystals into the cup, he offered it to Tim.

Tim stirred the mixture with his finger, quickly dipping it in and swirling it around, then removing it before the hot coffee burned it. The boy closed his eyes as he sipped the coffee, inhaling the fumes like a precious perfume.

Taking a guess Steve asked the boy, “How long since you ate?”

The question startled the boy from his admiration of Steve’s coffee making skills and brought him back to the present.

“I ate breakfast earlier this morning,” Tim said “but I can’t expect to take any further advantage of you”

Well, at least the boy is not one of those that expect to be given everything even if they did nothing to earn it, Steve thought as he reached once again into his bag and removed one of his energy bars and offered it to the boy.

They youth slowly reached for the bar and opened it then took a bite, slowly chewing each piece. Steve removed his small pot and poured water into it to heat, then removed the container of minute rice and the container of instant bean flakes from his bag. When the water was hot, he poured enough rice into the pot to feed them both and a little extra for a hungry kid, then added some bean flakes, salt, and a beef bouillon cube. A “Slim Jim” stick cut into pieces completed the culinary concoction that was to become their late dinner.

Steve might not have eaten had he been by himself, but he did not want the boy to feel like he was imposing. The boy had obviously been brought up right and seemed to be a friendly sort. Maybe Steve just wanted the company, but he was already warming to the boy.

A sudden jump by the boy startled Steve but then he had to stifle a laugh when he noticed that Rommel had made his appearance. The dog had “cold nosed” the boy’s neck to get his scent and startled the youth.

“Rommel, you mutt, you are gonna get shot if you keep sneaking up on people like that,” Steve said.

Rommel just looked at Tim and then gave a sniff as if to say “Dinner ready yet?”

“Tim meet Rommel, Rommel meet Tim,” Steve introduced the dog like family since he had become like one to Steve.

The dog walked back over to Tim and looked him in the eye. Since the boy was sitting on the ground that was not hard to do and made Rommel look very intimidating. The expression on Tim’s face was priceless, almost as if he was expecting to BE dinner instead of eating dinner.

The moment must have been funny to Rommel also because after staring the boy down the pup reached out and licked the youth square in the mouth. Steve almost lost it then, Tim had flinched back expecting to be bitten. Before he could retreat from the dog, that wet tongue had kissed him across the lips.

Seeing the merriment on Steve’s face Tim finally realized he had been “had” by a dog and started smiling also. Surer of himself now he reached over and gave the dog a good rubdown. Rommel stood there as if he had planned everything to get just such treatment. Finally, the dog moved back over to Steve and lay down to await his food also.

Before the food burned, Steve removed it from the fire and, after removing a Frisbee from his pack, dished about 55 percent of the pot’s contents out onto the toy for the boy. Steve had read about using the Frisbee for a dish/bowl in a hiking forum and had liked the idea so much, he had included one in his cache. They were light, quiet, and had cupped sides to hold soups or stews and could be used to hold food gathered along the way.

Steve removed one of his lexan spoons and offered the mixture to the boy. Tim took the plate after thanking Steve for his generous offer then bowed his head and gave thanks. Steve was taken off guard by the simple act of praying over the food. Few people today are thankful enough to God to thank him for anything, much less to do so in public around a stranger. Seeing the look on Steve’s face, Tim explained that he had been raised in church all his life. Though he had not been able to attend church much lately, he tried never to forget to thank God for his blessings.

Between spoonfuls of Steve’s mixture Tim told Steve his story. The boy had been a junior at the Citadel in Charleston when the problems started. Everything had been normal at the school until food supplies had become scarce and when the power had become so erratic that classes could not continue, most of the students tried to find a way home or to a home of a friend.

Tim’s Dad was a “preparedness freak” as Tim called him. After getting out of the service having been a Lurp in Vietnam, he had purchased a small farm near Ocala, Florida. He had wanted a place that would supply his family with whatever they might need in the future, and be close to his family in Orlando. Tim had grown up listening to his Dad’s stores of action and danger in 'Nam as his dad called it. The story telling had become a means of therapy for his dad and had brought the two of them close together. Tim had decided to attend the Citadel after graduation, but his dad’s affinity for survival had not passed to Tim. At least not at that time. The boy now wished he had paid more attention to his own personal preparedness and less to the desires of everyday life.

Steve asked Tim how he came to be here today, expecting to hear he had walked or been dropped off. Instead, Tim said that he had a 250cc Yamaha Bike that had been a graduation present from his dad. With the traffic, fuel cost and the parking at school it had been an inspired gift. Tim also suspected it was a backdoor survival gift from his old man. Talking about the bike reminded Tim that he needed to return to his small camp a little ways off. Steve, suspecting Tim was poorly equipped for the trip home, and since they were heading in the same direction, invited Tim to join him.

After some discussion, with Tim trying hard to act reluctant to impose, but obviously desiring very much to tag along, Tim left to retrieve his items. Rommel tagged along for company, giving Steve his blessing that the decision to ask Tim to join them was correct.

Soon Rommel returned running point for Tim who was pushing his Motor-bike. Steve wasn't sure what he had been expecting, maybe one of those flashy streamlined missiles he had seen pass him while driving a big rig. What he saw was an older bike painted in a subdued tan color, nothing flashy just very practical, the color at home in the city or as a pseudo-camouflage.

Noticing Steve's appraisal of his ride Tim started to explain about the bike's origin. Tim seemed to want to explain everything in detail without being asked, maybe he was just nervous. His dad had given him the bike upon graduation, but it had not been new, rather it had been his father's.
His dad had had it completely overhauled using the best parts available and improving anything that could be improved. It was not the best at street or off-road but it was good at both. Tim had not been enthusiastic about the color but like any teenager just having a means of transportation all his own, especially one without any payments was enough. His dad's preparation's made over three years before now came in handy on Tim's trip home.

Steve noted that the fuel tank looked larger than normal, to which Tim agreed it was, by 8 tenths of a gallon. That might not seem like much for a car, but for a bike might be 30 or 40 miles more range. Steve also noticed that instead of saddle bags the bike sported custom made racks, much more practical for carrying supplies. Tim had an extra fuel can stored in one side and a small book bag size pack in the other. A second bag was strapped to the back of the seat.

[Christian for Israel]

Chap 30 - A new partner


Tim stopped the bike on the side of camp that was most open and removed a bag from the back of the seat. He then laid the bike on it's side, resting on the side rack and the 10 liter (1) can it held. Steve noticed that both sides had cans, one side had a can with a blue painted top and the other had a dark red top. Each can was about half the size of the normal American fuel carrier but about perfect for a bike of the size of Tim's. Steve guessed one held spare fuel and the other water and Tim verified the guess when asked about it.

"They were Dad's idea and came with the bike along with the racks to hold them," Tim stated "If the main tank is close to full the bike has the range to get me home"

"Of course the main tank was about empty and I had used the fuel from the spare tank earlier this month before I decided to leave. A friend, who had nowhere else to go, had been invited to stay with another guy who lived near the college. Since the friend had no pressing need for the fuel in his tank he had offered to fill the main tank on the bike by siphoning fuel from his little Toyota. "

Tim said he was not sure what he was going to do when he ran out of fuel since he had been buying fuel through the school and had not picked up a ration card. No one at school thought thing's would get so out of hand and few had made many preparations.

Steve listened as Tim related his story. The boy had made himself comfortable while telling his tale, giving Rommel a rub down while talking. Rommel loved the attention, and Tim apparently needed a distraction while he told his story.

Steve knew he could not be the Good Samaritan to every stray he came across. He just did not have the supplies or time to nursemaid everyone. Still something about the kid struck a cord. Maybe it was the boy's refreshing honesty or maybe he just reminded Steve of himself at that age, young, foolish, and ill prepared for life.

"Besides fuel, how are you fixed for supplies?" asked Steve when Tim slowed down his storytelling.

Tim dropped his head, a little embarrassed at being caught so ill prepared, especially after his father had been such a preparedness preacher.

"Well I have plenty of water for now, but I will have to find drinking water along the way. As I said, I ran out of food this morning since the only thing I could find when I left was a couple of summer sausages, some cheese, two boxes of crackers and two large cans of sardines."

"I picked up a small pot and a plastic measuring cup from the cafeteria to use for cooking along with a few pieces of silverware." Tim continued "I have a bed roll made from three blankets and two sheets with a plastic table cloth for a ground cover."

"Since guns were forbidden at school that was not an option, but I keep a hunting knife on the bike so I'm not totally helpless. I had planned to rely on speed to avoid any confrontation I might come across."

Steve brought the conversation back to food since Tim had not brought enough to carry him through. "What were you planning to do about food?" he asked.

Tim looked at him and again displayed the frank honesty Steve had seen from him so far. "I remember dad saying you can go up to three weeks without eating and I had planned to be there well before that." Tim smiled "course hunger is not the most enjoyable feeling I have experienced, but without a choice in the matter I planned to just deal with it."

The response brought a smile from Steve who remembered a few times going on a mission with minimal food so he could bring extra ammunition. Not fun, but ammo is better than food in a firefight!

"How did you end up here off the beaten path?" Steve asked.

"The expressway is faster, but more dangerous and the possibility of roadblocks greater. I had to avoid two attempted hijacking's in the first fifty miles, after that I started following the back roads until I came to the railroad. I thought the rails might be safer if I can avoid any hobo jungles along the way" Tim said. "Now you have heard my story what about you?" "What's your tale of woe?"

Steve gave Tim an edited version of how he came to be there. Tim's eyes got quite large with each event as Steve told them. He was being overwhelmed. He had not expected to run a gauntlet to get home, when Steve told him about the states closing their borders Tim's shoulders seemed to slump, like a great load had been placed on them.

"How am I going to get home if I can't cross into Florida!" the youth exclaimed

"Simple' Steve said as Tim just stared amazed at Steve's casual and simple statement. "I plan to cross where no one is watching"

Tim started to tell him he was crazy, Steve could see it in his eyes. But then, just as he started to vocalize his misgivings about Steve's sanity the light came on. Tim "got" it. Closing a border is just a matter of blocking a few roads to most people, they would never think of traveling any other way. But to someone with the desire and need, the border is made up of many places to cross, and they all can't be watched at the same time, even in this day of electronic surveillance. You just have to look for those spots and the right time to cross.

While Steve had been talking he had opened up his supplies. He had poured some of the food supplies he had retrieved from his cache into his original, but now empty, food bottles. The boy had listened to Steve's story but had also watched intently as Steve poured rice, oats, corn meal, and beans into their bottles. Steve added a pouch of Tuna as well as two meat sticks to the pile. He added a bottle of water purifying tablets and then placed them into one of the two bags he had retrieved from his buckets. He then added the one item that can be worth its weight in gold, a small roll of Toilet Paper! Steve had taken three half rolls and removed the inner cardboard liner. He had then flatened the rolls and placed them into a large Ziplock bag.
He was giving Tim one of those rolls. It would make his journey much more plesant!

Steve finished his story and his repacking about the same time. He then slid around where he could reach down into the left side of his bike. He retrieved one of his two Glocks and both of the mags he had taken, what seemed like eons ago, when he had left Abraham and his family. Steve added that to the bag along with a few other items that he could spare and Tim might need. Steve closed the flap over the now full bag and offered it to Tim.

Tim had watched Steve load the bags with various foodstuffs and had watched him as he removed the Glock, as well as other items, then place them into the bag. He just never expected it to be given to him.

A thought taken from a popular commercial crossed Steve's mind as Tim slowly reached for the bag. Price for a bag of miscellaneous items, minimal. Look on Tim's face, Priceless!

"I..I..I don't know what to say" stammered Tim "I can't take this."

"Why not?" asked Steve eyes twinkling, "It's not enough?"

"Oh no!" exclaimed Tim "that's not it at all!" "You just met me and yet you are offering me things you might need."

"Look son. First off, I never give away anything I might need to survive. Second, when you have the proper knowledge you can survive with fewer modern supplies. Someone who has no idea of how our ancestors survived without modern conveniences, needs way more "convience" items just to survive one day. You might need the items in that bag before you get home, I won't.

Tim removed the Glock and it's holster and set them by his right thigh. He removed the magazines, then the bag of dull, tarnished brass 9mm hollow points like they were precious gold instead.

As Tim pressed the bullets into the magazines Steve asked "Do you know anything about the Glock?"

"Yes Sir, sure do" came Time's reply. "The Glock is my dad's weapon of choice. I grew up firing the Glock in all its variations."

The youth finished loading the mags and pushed one into its nesting place within the grip. Jacking the first hollowpoint into the chamber he stood and placed the holster on the side opposite his knife then dropped the pistol into it and placed the retention strap over it.

Steve didn't think he could have wiped the grin off Tim's face with a steel pad. He looked like an 8-year-old on Christmas morning that finds everything on his list under the tree.

"I haven't done anything to deserve the generosity, but I am really thankful. How can I repay you?"

Tim, I gave you those things free and clear. I don't expect payment for them or expect you to feel you "owe" me anything. Sometimes a person has to follow his gut when dealing with people. Mine tells me you're a fine young man that just needed to pay more attention to his old man. When you get home I would suggest learning everything from him you can, it might keep you alive in the future.

Tim kneeled down and rolled out his bedroll after spreading out his ground cloth. He placed the bag he had removed from the bike at the head of the roll as a pillow and sat down making sure his new bag of treasure was close by.

"You know," he began "This is the first time since I started out that I really feel I will make it home in one piece. I can't thank you enough for your help."

Looking over at Steve, Tim continued, "I was wondering, how are you going to ride that bike with that goose egg on your leg?"

Steve looked over at the boy and said "that's something I want to talk to you about."


Note (1) - http://www.generatorjoe.net/product....214&1=215&3=62

[Christian for Israel]

Chap 31 -

Steve relaxed and enjoyed the ride. He had used all his para-cord to weave a towrope but it was working fine. It had just enough stretch to avoid any jerks when accelerating, but still gave a strong pull. He had attached one end firmly to Tim's bike, but had wrapped it around his bike in a way that enabled him to quickly release it if needed.

The first few miles had been an adventure of starts and stops until they had both gotten the technique down.
Rommel was enjoying his accustomed perch but the increased speed they were traveling increased the cooling power of the wind. He seemed to be smiling as they traveled.

Steve knew Tim was using additional fuel pulling the bike but had been more than willing when Steve had asked. Steve hoped they would make it to his home where he could refill all of Tim's tanks.

For a change everything was working as planned. The tracks were clear, no one was trying to stop them and the weather was even clear. Even though they were traveling only about 30mph it seemed to Steve that they were going twice that. As long as the railbed stayed flat thing went smooth, only when they came to a bridge did things slow down as Tim had to ride across the Tie's which could jar your teeth if ridden across to fast.

Within a few hours they had traveled through Georgia and were approaching the Florida line. Steve felt Tim slow down and saw they had reached the agreed upon stopping spot.

They had planned their travel to allow them time for a meal before attempting to cross the border into Florida.
With Florida closing its border except for convoy's of needed supplies and certain exceptions they needed to find a hidden location to cross.

Steve had planned to move away from the rails through Kingsland, Georgia and then cross the St. Mary's river between Hillard and Bryceville, Florida. Once across the River He could then once again travel the rails. A few hours later and he would be home.

Steve discovered he could put pressure on his leg without exceeding his pain tolerance if he took it slow. He was then able to ride the bike away from their stopping point without the complexity of being towed.

With Rommel walking point Steve and Tim slowly made their way though the back roads of Kingsland. It was awhile before they found a place that would give them the security they would need and be near a spot to cross.

Finding a suitable spot they made camp, glad to be off their feet. His leg, complaining about being forced to travel, had started to throb about the time they found a camping area. Steve removed his ponchos and plastic then set up a covered sleeping area. Tim fixed them dinner using Steve's stove and other gear.

They both finished their chores at about the same time. The tent was made and Rommel was chowing down on a large bowl of his special food. Tim presented a plate of noodles made from a pouch of Lipton's Cheddar Broccoli mix. A few pieces of Jerky made a meal fit for a king after their travels.

Steve made himself comfortable, elevating his leg, after dinner. Tim had cleaned up and also laid out his bedroll. Both men were soon fast asleep.

That evening they awoke and prepared for their entry into Florida. They needed to push their machines through an area of low swampy ground that none the less should be able to support their weight as well as the weight of the bikes.

Steve felt his leg was ready for the event, it was no longer sore when he walked, just tender. He once again removed the innertube flotation device, but did not inflate it yet, just wrapped it around the handlebars. They both waterproofed their gear as much as possible, sticking it in zip lock bags, wrapping it in plastic, or making sure the various containers and pouches were closed tight.


Steve also had to unbraid his rope since they needed the line to pull the tube back across once one person made it.

They slowly made their way to the water's edge, struggling together in a few of the lower, muddier places. Once they made the river Steve inflated the tube and lashed his bike and gear to it. He tied one end of the 550 cord to the tube and the other end to a sock with a rock and a small bottle they had found, tied in it.

Steve pushed off into the slow moving water hoping once again that the snakes or any gators were someplace else. For a change ole Murphy was on his side and all went well. He made the other side and found a good spot to leave his gear. Rommel had come across with him and, after showering them both off with a weeks worth of rain, laid down by Steve's gear (and his food) to watch the remaining show.

Steve walked upstream a short ways carrying the now empty tube. Finding a small mud slick finger projecting into the river he carefully slid out into the water. He tossed the tube as far as possible and then whirled the weighted sock around to gain momentum. He released the sock and watched it sail into the night. He had turned on his small Photon-light, placed it into the mouth of the Big Mouth Pepsi bottle they had found for flotation. The bottle reflected the light inside enough to give Tim a point of reference and allow him to find the floating end of the cord.

Tim was waiting for the light as it floated by. He had swum out into the river far enough to grab the sock as it floated by suspended at the surface by the bottle. Pulling the tube by its cord he swam back to his bike. Steve thought the tube would support the bike but how far above the water he did not know. They hoped it would still run after its trip. Steve had sacrificed a Ziplock bag to make a cover for the carb and they had attempted to located all the vents and seal them.

Tim carefully rolled his cycle onto the wet rubber of the innertube. Steve had inflated it to the max to obtain the best buoyancy and give Tim the best chance of making it across with his bike. Still he was ready to leave it if he could not make it across.

He used the 550 cord to lash the bike securely to the tube and pushed it slowly into the water. The tube kept going down as he pushed it off the mud bank, down it went until the bike was partially underwater. Then it started floating, sluggishly, in the brown stained water. He had not wanted to leave it behind and now pushed off with renewed confidence that he would make it across with his ride.

After a few tense moments Steve saw Tim as he reached the near shore. Steve ran over and helped Tim drag his burden through the shallow water and across the mud to firmer ground. Wet, but safe, and more importantly, in Florida. They sat down and enjoyed a few moments of rest.

They both caught their breath and then decided to try and wash some of the mud off of their clothes as well as some of their equipment. Afterwards it was time to see if Tim's bike would restart after its watery travels.

With the bag removed from the Carb and all the vents cleared Tim jumped on the starter. A few kicks later it was purring like before, no worse for wear after the trip.

They repacked everything including the now deflated innertube and started off for home.

[Christian for Israel]

Chap 32 - Home

Steve was in a quandary. On one hand they were wet, tired and traveling in the dark in snake country, on the other he was more than impatient to be home. His intellect and his training said to stop and rest but his emotions wanted to press on home. Finally he decided to stop, both because he needed to keep his emotions in check until he was home and because he also had to think of Tim, who would keep going as long as he did.

He located a dry flat area and signaled Tim to pull over. The boy didn't say anything, but Steve could tell he was glad to be stopping. They laid out their plastic for a ground cloth to protect them from any moisture, and then removed their still very damp clothes.

Steve had refilled his water containers while he had waited for Tim to cross the river. Both of them washed, using some of that water.

They wrung out their clothes as best as they could, and draped them over a nearby bush. Dressed in clean clothes and washed Steve felt like a new man, but he knew the feeling would be short lived if he didn't rest his body.

They fixed a cup of hot soup, cleaned and repacked their utensils, then made themselves comfortable. Steve wanted to rest a few hours then head on home, he planned to make it about dark tonight.

===============

It was time! Big Gun new he had to take that farm house if he was to maintain his standing as head of the gang.

He was still uncomfortable about the attack, but enough time had passed since his brush with the woods' phantom that he had convinced himself the greyman was a ghost and therefore not real. He had sent three of his boyz to watch the farm but had not heard from them since, maybe they had ran out of batteries or something for them little radios they carried. He didn't know and was not going to spend much time thinking about it either.

He planned on taking six carloads of shooters. Ten of his boyz would attack on foot from different areas of the property while Big Gun took four cars full of hopped up gang-bangers and attacked front on. He figured the blitzkrieg (he liked that word since he had heard it on TV one night) would over run the farmhouse, and then the fun would begin. Just like every other house they had attacked. He had heard the best time for an attack was about dusk or dawn. He didn't know if it was true, but it sounded good and had worked for him so far. He would attack at dusk and be done with his bad feelings!

Of course Big Gun didn't think about the fact that his group was armed with only a few rifles they had taken from the houses they had overwhelmed thus far, or that most of his gang only had pistols. Two had managed to obtain AK-47's from the underground sometime in the past, and he used them as his bodyguards, but none of the group was trained in infantry tactics. All they knew was attack in force!

===============

Susan was feeling more uncomfortable each night Steve was not home. She had put on a good face in the kids sight but tonight she had just made it behind closed doors before she broke down and cried. She let down her guard and had an old fashioned, eye burning, slobbering cry!
She cried until she could not cry anymore, then she prayed until she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

She did not fool the children though, they both knew their mother was under a lot of strain with their father gone and the constant feeling they were being watched. Today things had reached the point that all three of them had started carrying their rifles and their buttpacks whenever they were outside of the house.

=================

Steve awoke with a start just as the first rays of light filtered down through the overhanging leaves. He had planned to be up before dawn but must have been more tired that he thought to have slept this long.

As Steve sat up Tim awoke and looked around.

"Guess you'll be home with the missus tonight won't you" he asked in a half-asleep voice.

Steve replied in the affirmative as he started fixing something for breakfast. As he waited for his water to boil he fixed Rommel's food bowl, but his mind was on the coming trip. He had remembered that an acquaintance lived not too far from here, they were not friends, but he had a feed store that Steve bought from sometimes. Maybe he would agree to drive them at least part of the way home and save some time for them. So lost in thought he did not notice the water was boiling until Tim asked if he was sterilizing the cup or something.

Steve snapped back into the present and added a coffee pack to the now boiling water. Steve munched a granola bar as he sipped his coffee not wanting to take anymore time for breakfast than he needed to. Tim sensing Steve's impatience did the same. Only Rommel seemed in slow motion as he ate his food.

Finally packed they started off. Rommel rode with Tim, laying across the gas tank with his paws on the tank bags Tim used for his personal gear. Steve sat on his bike, outriggers folded, as Tim pulled them along. He sat urging time to speed up and trying to curb his mounting desire to fly.

Even if it seemed to take hours, they were at the feed store after only about 75 minutes travel. The store was open, but had no customers this early. The owner greeted Steve as he entered. Steve had bought enough items here in the past to be recognized, even if his name was not instantly remembered. Steve explained his situation to the owner and asked if he could give them a ride. The owner was sympathetic but didn’t want to use the fuel it would take to get them home. He did need to make a trip to Baldwin to pick up some supplies and would give them a ride that far since it was on the way. Steve had hoped for more, but beggars can’t be choosy, so he graciously accepted the owner's offer and left to load their gear into the bed of the owner’s large flatbed.

Tim enjoyed the ride with the excitement of a youth that still had not figured out the realities of this new life. Steve on the other hand grew more impatient with each passing moment. The owner had mentioned the raiders that had been expanding out from Jacksonville, stealing, raping and killing those in their way. A few had tried to stop them but no one had enough firepower yet to even slow them up. That information was enough to push Steve’s patience factor to a new low.

They reached Baldwin and got unloaded by noon. They thanked the driver and decided to eat now since Steve planned to be home before dinner. They made a resting place behind the truck stop and unpacked their food.

A large meal compared to what he had been eating, was prepared. Noodles with cheese sauce combined with a pouch of tuna eaten with crackers, followed by an MRE pound cake covered with a pouch of Carmel ice cream sauce stoked their fires for the final leg of the trip.

Once again they packed and connected the towrope. Tim refilled his fuel tank, which emptied his spare tank but also helped his balance since it was not sloshing around on one side of the bike.

Steve lifted Rommel and once again placed him on the bike’s fuel tank. The dog still was not sure what to make of his new riding place. The wind felt good, but it sure was noisy!

Tim eased the clutch out, trying to lessen the shock to the towrope and Steve, as they started off once again. The motorcycle handled the new duties without any problems, Tim just had to watch his speed or Steve would need a parachute! They had planned to arrive about dinner time which would get them there with a little daylight left. Surprising someone in the dark was not conducive to good health in today's uneasy life. Steve could have called his wife from the feed store but decided to surprise his family and forgo the call. He just did not want to get shot walking in the door by a “surprised” wife!

===============

Big Gun was ready, His boyz were ready and waiting for his signal, but he still felt uneasy about the attack. He wrote it off to the fact of having to travel down a dirt road to get to the farm instead of attacking a house on a major road. It might give the farm notice of their arrival. Still he knew his group could take two chicks and a snot nosed kid, couldn’t they?

He had five cars full of shooters ready to attack even if they thought “trigger control” was how many times you could pull the trigger in a minute. Twenty-five guys ready for some fun started out. Two 1970’s Impalas with six shooters apiece, a ’72 Mustang with four gang members, both cars set up with hydraulics. They were followed closely by Big Gun in his baby blue Lincoln with his driver and a bodyguard. Bringing up the rear was a Toyota truck lowrider with six more of his boyz, four of which were not happy about riding in the bed.

The first car would stop and the six attackers would go on foot to the back of the house and barn to keep anyone from leaving the party early. The rest would charge in guns blazing. Big Gun figured they would take the house in the first attack, then “let the games begin”!

He filled his thoughts during the drive with images of the women and what he had planned for the young female, he was sure she would be impressed. He knew a couple of his boyz had intimate plans for the young male, each to his own, he thought. If they wanted a male when there were two female toys around it just left more for him. He unconsciously grinned at the thoughts that filled his head, the effect made him look like a Mardi Gras party mask.

The cars struggled with the dirt road, wasting time and slowing them down. The cars that were so cool on the streets bottomed out on the undulating, washed out, country road. Even the truck, normally the vehicle best suited for travel on this type road, got hung up on a particular bad section due to it being so low slung now. The hydraulics in the front cars had been adjusted to raise the cars up, but the ride was extremely hard on the unpaved road forcing them to slow way down as they tried to negotiate the bad road. The slow 5mph trip grated on Big Gun. Their enthusiasm for the attack had given way to the aggravation of traveling this p!$$ poor road!

Finally they arrived at the spot chosen to start the attack. They gave the walker’s time to get in position, then accelerated towards the house.

===============

Steve was glad to see the exit. He had been unconsciously looking at each sign until he spotted “his” exit. Blowing his whistle and lightly applying his brakes to get Tim’s attention he pointed to the right. Tim gave a wave and turned off on the exit. The trip had gone smoothly since traffic was so light. Steve had been afraid of being stopped since they were on an interstate highway but they had not even seen a law enforcement officer or roadblock.

They rolled to a stop at the bottom of the exit and Steve got off his bike to talk to Tim. He gave the youth directions to his turn off along with enough landmarks to ensure he made the right turns. Confident he knew the way Tim slowly brought them up to speed after Steve mounted the bike. They reached the turnoff to the first dirt road without any problems. Steve noticed the recent rains had washed out the road since he had been gone. Without the county crew to grade it, the road would only get worse over time, but at least it was still negotiable for now. Steve thought that it would be best to
unhook the towrope, and ride on his own for now. The road was in too bad shape to risk getting wrecked by the motorcycle getting thrown about by the many ruts. They noticed scrape marks made by several large vehicles traveling the same road recently. Steve hoped they were friendly ones.

================

Susan was inside cooking dinner with her daughter when the group attacked. Chris was still out by the barn when Simba, their large Rottwieler started aggressively barking and the sounds of several cars reached her ears.

The glass shattered in the living room just as the sound of gunfire reached them. Startled, she froze for just a moment then her mother’s concern overrode her fear and caution as she looked out the window trying to spot her son.

She saw him beside the barn just as he stumbled as a bullet reached him. She cried out as if the bullet had struck her and started to leave the protection of the house and run to her wounded son but Chrissie grabbed her and yelled at her to get her rifle.

Chrissie reacted first to the gunfire, her time spent with her dad hunting and target practicing let her recognize the shots before her mother. She knew the amount of fire was not a good thing and reached for her carbine. She saw her mother start for the door of the house when she stepped back into the kitchen. She grabbed her mother’s arm and yelled for her to get to her rifle and return fire like their father had taught them.

Susan let her anguish and anger fuel her desire to strike back at the attackers. How dare they invade her life and shoot her son! The calmness of an angry mother took over as she lined up her sights on the first car.

===============

God he hurt. Never having been shot before Chris didn’t have any idea how much it could hurt. Still he was not dead yet, of course he would be if he didn’t move. Even though he was not Steve and Susan’s biological son he had developed a stubbornness early in life and had only learned to control and channel it when they had come to live with them. He used that trait to override the pain and nausea that threatened to overtake him, and stumbled into the barn. The 9mm round had not done any major damage, but it sure hurt like he!!.

He heard his sister and mother start firing as he pulled himself into the protection of the barn. He remembered the old Garand he had stored in the loft and started climbing the ladder.
===============

Big Gun was stunned. Everything had started off just fine, they had all seen the boy get hit in the first volley and cheered. Then the boy had got up and stumbled toward the barn. He always said his boyz couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn and here was living proof as the kid made it into the barn despite all the guns firing at him.

The gang leader watched as rapid fire shots from the house rang out, striking the lead car. The high velocity slugs shatter the windshield before continuing on their mission. The third copper-jacketed slug breached the glass and entered the right eye socket of the driver emptying his skull contents onto the passengers. The splatters of gore distracting them from their firing. The suddenly pilot-less car continued on until it hit a 4 inch gate post.

Everything was happening so fast that Big Gun could not keep up with it all. One minute all was ok, the next, one car was hit and who knew how many shooters in it. What would happen next?

================

Susan lined up her rifle on the driver’s side of the first car. With a steadiness brought on by a deep-seated primeval mad she fired round after round into the car, each round doing a little more damage. Finally one broke through the windshield, and entered hitting the driver. She watched as the car collided with the gate post Steve had installed last year, then switched her fire to the other car.

Chrissie emptied three mags at the lowrider truck. She could not tell if she hit anything but she was not about to slow up her firing to check closer. She changed mags again then switched her aim to the driver like her mother had done.

================

Chris struggled up the last rung of the ladder, falling onto the hay stored there. It was taking a lot out of him to ignore the pain and climb that ladder but he was determined to pay those clowns back. He slowly crawled over to the loft window reaching around to the case that held his goal. He opened the case and removed his fathers ODCM Garand along with a bag of loaded clips. Just as he recovered the gun he heard gunfire from the back of the property. He stopped long enough to tie his bandanna around his leg and staggered to the back window.

Chris could tell the shots were coming from more than one shooter but he could only see three. He opened the chamber to the old battle rifle and inserted a clip, careful to keep his thumb away from the bolt. Ready to fire he wiped the sweat from his eyes then lay down in the hay, sighting through the excellent peep sights like his adopted father had taught him.

===============

The toughguy called “Blackcat” by his peers had stopped near the edge of the fence line at the back of the barn. He had carried one of the hunting rifles taken from one of their raids, sure that he could use it. The first round he fired had pounded his shoulder so hard he had dropped the gun. “It sure kicked more that his .38 pistol,” he thought. He rubbed his shoulder and lifted the rifle once again, this time making sure it was tightly against his still aching shoulder. Before he had a chance to see if the gun would hurt as much the second time, a 173 grain Sierra hollow point match round slammed into his side. The 30/06 slug pierced his left side underneath his left breastbone. Though the match slug didn’t expand very much the hydrostatic force caused by the rapid entry of copper and lead into the heart ruptured that vital muscle into pieces too numerous to ever be put back together again.

The second gang-banger lived a little longer as Chris’s second, third and fourth round missed. Snort, called that by his friends due to his habits, heard the shots but couldn’t tell where they were coming from until it was too late. The throb in Chris’s leg was throwing his aim off until he slowed his shooting, grit his teeth and aimed the old rifle correctly. The fifth and sixth round from the old warhorse cured Snort of his habits permanently, the sixth projectile erasing the thugs nose from the equation.

The third shooter spotted Chris firing from the loft and shifted his aim. He didn’t think about the fact a 12gauge is not the gun to have when facing a rifle. The buckshot from the shotgun spread too much to do much more than rattle against the barn and give Chris his location.

Shooter three didn’t know much about guns but he knew from watching TV you needed to move after shooting. That simple fact prolonged his life as the next two shots from Chris missed.

Chris heard the ping as the clip ejected from the Garand. He reached into the bag and extracted a fresh clip and once again the rifle was ready to hunt. He had fired at a third attacker hidden behind a tiller but missed with his last two shots as the attacker moved. Chris spotted a leg leading to a low mound of dirt. The shooter thought he was hidden but had not taken into account Chris’s higher vantage point. Chris concentrated on the top of the leg allowing for the different bullet drop from his higher shooting point. The bark of the old gun surprised Chris, but surprised the target even more. The round entered the upper thigh nicking the femoral artery in passing. The shooter jerked up grabbing his leg as his blood shot up into the air with each heartbeat. Chris decided that was not bad shooting even if it was only about 50 yards, he had shot at targets farther but not with this weapon.

Hearing more fire from the front, and now that he could not see any more shooters in back, Chris tried to move toward the front and collapsed on his injured leg. Once his regained control of his pain he made a mental note not to do that any more. He crawled toward the front window and as he did he remembered what was in the box he had seen under the hay near the front window. With a smile on his face he increased his speed and headed for that box.

======================

Big Gun saw that the were in a stalemate. They had stopped the cars and were firing from behind them at the house. They could not attack nor could they retreat due to the heavy firing from the house. He had heard someone firing from the barn but since no round came their way supposed the fire was directed at his boyz in back. He heard the firing stop at hoped on of his boyz had got lucky and splattered that kid.

======================

Steve stopped his bike and listened. Gunfire like he had not heard since his time overseas was coming from the direction of his home. He still was about a quarter mile from there and had a sinking feeling he would be too late. He motioned Tim over and slid Rommel from his perch. Carrying his SKS and his ammo pouch he slid on behind Tim and yelled for him to GO!

They had not gone more than 100 yards when Steve heard a sound that brought a big smile to his face and lifted his spirits. He could not help but yell at that sound.

======================

Chris made it to the box and had to take a few deep breaths to regain control of his pain. He entered the combination his dad had made him remember and opened the box. Inside was the one toy that had almost caused his parents to split. Their argument was not so much what the item was, but the cost and the need for such a male toy as his mother had called it. His father had seen it at a gun show in Jacksonville and contacted the builder soon after. It was two AK-47 rifles with 75 round drums mounted together with a hand crank set to fire each gun twice per revolution(1). One hundred and fifty rounds could be emptied out almost as fast as a machinegun and it was perfectly legal. His dad had bought an old browning 30cal machinegun tripod to mount it on. Chris set the tripod in front of the window, then lifted the guns onto it. They were almost more than he could lift on his damaged leg but he knew the gun might mean the difference in the battle. He removed four loaded drums from the box and charged both guns.

Settling behind the gun mount as comfortable as he could he grabbed the crank and began to turn.

======================

“What the Fu*k was that!!” yelled Big Gun as bullets began striking all around them. Two of his group tried to return fire toward the barn and were mowed down before they could fire a shot. Three more went down as multiple rounds pierced the car body they were hiding behind and found soft, yielding flesh to enter.

Big Gun could already see this was not turning out as he expected. Who would have thought anyone would put up this much fight and what’s with that freaking machinegun? Who could blame him for retreating. He would come back with a larger group next time. Big Gun eased around behind his boyz and snuck back while they distracted the family firing at them. He reached the wood line and turned to watch four more of his formerly indestructible group fall, then turned and started back through the same woods he had visited the first time.

=====================

Chris had lost count of the bad guys he had taken out. All he knew was rotate the crank then rest, rotate then rest. He did not want to heat up the barrels too much if he could help it, and he needed to make the ammo last as long as possible. Finally he heard the sound he had not wanted to hear, CLICK CLICK, as each drum ran empty. He released the now empty drums and mentally kept hearing his dad’s voice telling him to slow down, slow down to go fast his dad had preached to him. Both new mags were seated with a click and he released the bolts with shaking hands and started cranking again. He knew there were at least two more shooters still behind the house but they would have to wait until the group in front were taken care of. He then heard two large booms from that area that completely overrode the much smaller pops from the attackers small caliber guns, then total silence from behind the house. He was confused by the sounds of the large caliber rifle, but could not think about it since the group in front were massing for either an attack or retreat, neither one would he allow if he could help it. He swung the twin barrels of death and started cranking anew.
======================

Steve arrived at the entrance to his property just as the twin AK’s started firing again. He and Tim dismounted from the bike and started forward looking for those that would do his family harm. Heaven help anyone that had hurt them, he would show no mercy. As he neared the house he could see the cars and the bodies as well as those s***bags still alive and firing toward his house. Motioning Tim down he slid behind a tree and brought the rifle up. Starting at the near end of the house he started firing. Just like target practice, acquire, squeeze and repeat as each shooter went down caught in a cross fire they didn’t expect. One by one they tried to shoot or run, which didn’t make a difference to Steve, all he knew was that they had tried to bring death to his house and he would not allow that while he still breathed. Tim was not battle hardened or trained but caught on quickly as Steve started firing. He caught a young greasy looking youth, not much younger than him, mid-turn with a slug from the 357 rifle Steve had loaned him. The force of the hit slammed the kid against the truck he had been hiding behind and Tim watched him slide down the bed to fall in a lifeless heap.

Steve noticed Tim staring out of the corner of his eye. He yelled at the boy to get back in the game and heard the 357 speak again soon after.

With one final shot the last gang member fell and soon all gunfire stopped. Steve’s ears were ringing from all the firing, but he managed to hear an intense growling and yelling coming from his left. He turned to see both Rommel and Simba playing ragdoll with one of the youths that had tried to run. Two angry dogs that size could do a lot of damage in a short time and their target was being torn apart when Steve’s rifle spoke again to end the boy's suffering. Steve called the dogs off, and after three commands, they stopped and came over to Steve. “Well Simba I see you have met Rommel” Steve said to the big Rottwieler, “Hope you don’t mind a new member of the family.” Simba seemed to understand just what Steve was saying as the dog introduced himself to Rommel like dogs tend to do.

Once he was sure the danger was over Steve called to the house and started forward.

====================

Susan could not believe it. So much chaos and death in such a short time. She heard the firing of those guns from the barn and knew what Steve had done with that toy she had told him not to buy. Again she was glad to be wrong! As her adrenaline slowed she heard a voice she had almost given up on.

“STEVE!” she yelled as she almost dropped her rifle on the counter and ran out the door. She ran right into his opened arms ignoring the dead bodies and destroyed cars. Right into the arms of the man that had taken his marital vows seriously and made a way to protect his family when it was needed.

Steve just held his arms open when he saw the prettiest sight ever running out of the house. All he could do was hold her when she reached him. She tried to tell him how much she missed him, everything that had happened and cry at the same time. Though she felt wonderful there were still two more members of his family to check on. Kissing his wife to stop her blubbering he got her to stop long enough to ask about the kids. Here eyes got real wide as she remembered Chris getting hit. Steve could tell by her reactions that something was not right, and since Chrissie was running toward the barn he knew the problem had to be with Chris. He started to run toward the barn and reached it just as Chrissie pulled open the door. As they both entered the barn Chris called down, “Hey dad, you know that Garand shoots a little to the right?”

Steve could not help but laugh at the boy. Sitting on the edge of the loft blood dripping down his leg, pain on his face, but still finding the inner strength to not let his family know how bad he was hurt.

Steve climbed the ladder two rungs at a time and reached the boy just as he fainted. Steve lifted the boy over his shoulder and returned to the ground as his mother arrived. Seeing the boy over Steve’s arm she expected the worst but Chrissie grabbed her and told her Chris had just fainted. Still worried she led them into the house and stood by as Steve laid the boy down on his bed and started removing his clothes. Susan directed Chrissie to get a pan of water and she went for the first aid kit.

Steve cleaned the wound and was glad to see that while the 9mm slug was a hollow point it had not expanded much nor penetrated much due to the distance and having to pass through the boys heavy denim jeans. Still the wound could be serious and he turned the boy over to Susan. She removed several items from their well stocked kit and started to work on the boy as Steve left to inspect the damage.

===============

Big Gun heard the gunfire slow, then stop and knew what that meant. With no more concern than you would give an ant when you stepped on it, the gang leader turned his back and started on back towards town to rebuild his gang.

As he thought about the task ahead he never heard the arrow as it's razor sharp broadhead entered the base of his skull and severed his spinal cord.

Big Gun dropped to the forest floor, his lower body no longer receiving commands from his brain. He fell face up driving the arrow farther through his body and with the last of his fading eyesight could have sworn he saw an Indian dressed in grey holding a bow and a tomahawk and smiling down at him.

Guess that is what the devil really looks like was his last thought on this earth.


Note 1 = http://www.gatlingguns.com/

[Christian for Israel]

Epilog

Steve and Tim walked outside to inspect the damage. All the vehicles that had been part of the attack looked liked a kitchen sieve, those AK-47's had done a job on the body work along with anything on the otherside. A low moan from Steve's side of the car was met with a sharp report from the 9mm he carried. Steve looked up to see Tim's wide eyes staring at him.

"Tim, these s***bags came here with one purpose and that was to harm my family. When they crossed my property line they also crossed from civilized man to animal man and deserve no better treatment than I would give any seriously wounded wild animal." Steve explained.

"I know," answered Tim "Its just hard to see it and realize how much the world has changed in such a short time."

Steve decided to wait until first light to clean up the yard and bury the bodies. They walked back into the house to find Chris sitting up on the bed waiting for them.

"Everyone, this is Tim. He was a major factor in me being here in time to help" Steve said by way of introduction of the boy.

Everyone said hello though Steve noticed Chrissie had a big smile on her face (the kind females reserve just for times they want to get noticed) when she said it.

"Speaking of arriving just in time, thanks for taking care of those last two dudes behind the house, Dad" Chris said.

Steve got real serious and said "Son I arrived just in time to finish those in front. I never knew anyone was in back."

In the quietness of the moment Steve noticed the lonesome call of a wolf howling nearby. All of a sudden he ran for the back door and in a near perfect imitation of the calling wolf, started howling in answer.

His family thought he had slid off into some kind of wartime flashback and were looking at him very strangly as he stepped back into the house. Only Susan would say what was on all their minds.

"What was that all about?" she asked "Some kind of male dominance thing? I am the only big, bad wolf here thing?"

"Nah, just answering a phone call" Steve said cryptically.

Now they all KNEW he was tripping, and seemed to get that "Surrrrrrrre Dad” look as they looked at each other.

A few moments of silence later, they all heard the roar of a big diesel getting closer. Susan started to reach for the pistol still strapped to her side, but seeing Steve's smile she stopped, really confused now.

Steve opened the back door and stood there waiting, as a Ford 250 pulled up to the house. It looked very ungainly with some kind of treads, instead of wheels, on each corner of the truck (1).

A short man, looking like an indian out of a Florida history book, got down from the driver's seat, and another man opened the door of the passenger side. If the family thought the indian looked odd, the other man looked just strange. He stood about six foot three with a full face beard, looking like something from a mountain man retreat.

Steve let out another wolf call and ran over to the pair, slapping and punching at them like long lost brothers. The three men hugged each other for a moment, then Steve remembered that his family was in attendance, each standing with their mouth and eyes wide open at the spectacle their normally reserved Dad had put on.

Steve turned to the family and introduced the two men.

"Folks I want you to meet two of the best scouts the Marines ever had. Tom Littlefoot," Steve said pointing to the short Indian, who gave him a sharp look and said "Tonto to my friends, of which Steve here might not be for long if he calls me Littlefoot again," of course, Tom said it with a grin.

"and George Jamison better known as Bushman," Steve continued on as if he had not heard what Tonto had said.

"Glad to finally meet you kind folks," the big man answered in a deep baritone voice that somehow seemed to fit the man perfectly.

Susan had heard of the pair that her husband held an almost reverence for. He had not heard from them in years, but still talked of them as if they were brothers. Seeing them here now, she could see they felt the same about Steve.

She turned to them and said "If ya'll are through playing your macho games come on into the house and make yourself at home.

"About time someone here had some manners" spoke Bushman, "I sure could use a cup of coffee from someone beside this here Indian. They never have learned to brew correctly."

"Ugh. Indian was brewing drinks from herbs before whiteman finished painting on cave walls." Tonto said in his best Indian voice.

"Come on in fellows, and tell me how come you're here." Steve said, to break up the banter between the friends before it could really get started.

Everyone got comfortable in the large living room, ignoring the large amount of empty brass laying around. Susan and Chrissie gladly fulfilled their duties as hostesses, in the kitchen making fresh coffee and heating up coffeecake and sweet rolls.

After the how have you been's had been passed around, Steve asked about the men's families. Tonto seemed to take on a new seriousness that showed in the fierce glow his eyes took on.

"That's part of what brought us here" He said. "after I got out of the corps I went back home to the 'glades."

Steve knew Tonto's family had some property in the Everglades that had been handed down for generations.

The Indian continued "I met a little woman that thought I was everything she needed in life. I know she was everything I needed. After traveling all over the world for Uncle Sugar I was ready to settle down. We had a small singlewide on a piece of the family land and things were fine, until two months ago."

Susan and Chrissie came into the room with a large tray of sweets and drinks. Tonto paused until they had also taken a seat. Steve could tell he also paused to regain his normally stoic look, as he took control of his emotions.

Once the women were seated, Tonto continued his narration.

"You know about the problems in South Florida between the various groups?" He asked. "well, the Haitians and other groups from South America may have good people, but the ones I know aren't worth much. A group came North and started encroaching on our land. At first they left our group alone, but since my wife was Cuban, she was fair game they thought. About two months ago she went into town for our monthly food run. Somewhere between town and home she was run off the road, attacked and left for dead."

Tonto's voice once again betrayed his emotions as he stopped his story. Bushman spoke up, filling in the gaps to give his friend time to compose himself.

"I had just went through a messy divorce, getting the final papers two weeks earlier. Since I lost the house and half of everything else I decided to drop in on an old friend and see if I could start a new life. Tonto wanted to show me some of the wild life in his ancestral homestead, so we took his airboat into the swamps as his wife went into town. When we got back and she wasn't around the house we went looking for her, since Tonto knew she was always home in time to fix him dinner. We found her a few miles out of town."

The emotions were so thick and heavy in the room, everyone had a solemn look and felt the pain these two men had experenced.

Tonto took the floor once again and continued "She had hung on long enough for me to find her. She said she knew I would want to know what happened. It took everything that tough lady had, but she described the ones that had attacked her in detail." Once again Tonto paused to take a deep breath and slowly let it out.

Bushman picked up the story without missing a beat, getting everyone's attention away from his friend.

"She gave us the description of the four assailants, then smiled at her husband. She apologized for not being there to fix his supper then closed her eyes for the last time. We cleaned her up, then called the authorities. The police didn't have anyone they could send right then, so we picked her up and carried her to a local funeral home. We both went back home and opened our old warbags. What the Marines had trained us to do overseas, worked just as well here at home."

When the big man paused Chris blurted out "What happened, then?" Steve turned to warn the young teen about his outburst when Tonto spoke again.

"No, the boy needs to know. His world has changed forever, and my story needs to be told to be remembered." Looking at the teen, the sadness rolling from his face, the Indian continued.

I took out my favorite bow. You remember the one I carried in Iraq?" he asked Steve, "and the rest of my gear and went hunting. One by one the punks fell. The first one lived for two days before it was time for the next one. By the time the fourth fell we knew who the head man was. It took a week to find him, it took four hours for him to die." With that he stopped, his story over. Each person in the room was feeling the anguish and pain he had gone through.
Steve, who had an idea what Tonto was capable of, and did not want the images floating around in his head, broke the silence by asking " So what brings you up here?"

Bushman answered "after the funeral we decided we needed to get away from that area for awhile, so we thought we might look up a good friend that happened to live up north, so here we are."

"So, you just happened to arrive today?"

"Oh no," replied Bushman "We've been camping out about 300 yards into those trees back there for about a month. Saw a couple of those boys checking the house out a few weeks ago, but since we didn't know at the time they were hostile we just scared them a little."

"Yea, the leader kinda Pi$$ed his pants when Tonto over there pulled a knife on him" continued Bushman.

"Speaking of the leader, was he one of the boys out front? And I suppose that was you out back solving Chris's problems?" asked Steve.

"Your boy was doing ok by himself, but had a few too many problems for one person. I thought that since I needed a little target practice, I would lend a hand. As for the leader, he tried to leave the party before it was over. Tonto decided to give him a real personal invite to stay to the end. Besides, he said he needed a little bow practice himself." replied Bushman with a mysterious grin.

Susan stood up and announced that it was time to turn in, and that the two guests could sleep in the back bedroom and Tim could sleep on the couch in the living room.

"Indian not sleep in whiteman's house" Tonto said, eyes twinkling, in his best Hollywood Indian imitation.

Everybody laughed at his comment, then he motioned Steve and Tim outside. The four men stepped out the front door and Bushman told Steve that since they had just got home to leave the cleanup to Tonto and him.

Tonto said "I noticed a backhoe behind the barn and if it runs, we will use that to dig a grave for those scuzz balls. We will sleep in the barn which will be a lot better than the ground we been sleeping on. By the way, you got a good boy in there. He did real good in the attack, better than some trained soldiers."

Looking at Tim he said "you did alright too rookie, got a rough start, but you did ok." Then he turned and walked away.

Tim had a stunned look on his face at the high praise from such an accomplished warrior. Steve laughed at the look and suggested they get cleaned up and sack out.

Steve was looking forward to sleeping between sheets in a warm, comfortable and most of all safe place. Besides the fact that a very special lady was there waiting for him.


Note: (1) http://www.mattracks.com/


END

Read more: The Long Road Home : Users' SHTF Stories - SHTF Survival & Emergency Preparedness Forums http://www.shtfmilitia.com/users-sht...tml?hilit=long road home#p1051#ixzz17pmRcq9g
SHTF Militia

[WiseOwl]

Great Story. Tell your friend good job. I really enjoy reading your strories sir. It kills time while being slow at work these days and when the wife is watching her "Real Housewife, Top Model Chef" shows at night. You and your friend are great story tellers, both stories are very similar to the "Patriots" style book, with the attention to detail. Is there any more to Mountain Home?
Thanks again.
Wise Owl