Living Gray

[Grand58742]

My schedule is getting crazy and I may be a little slower getting chapters out for awhile, but I WILL keep them coming as I'm able.

We understand life happens. You take as much time as you need to get done what you need to get done.

[brokedownbiker]

Take your time. You've done well with this story, no need to rush it. I'm curious - when writing a story like this did you start out with a general outline or storyline in mind? Or do you just wing it for each chapter?

Thanks for the kind words. I started out with a general scenario and fleshed it out from there. I have a destination in mind for the story but I'm kinda "winging it" on how I get there.

[RunAndGun]

Great story! I am really enjoying it and greatly appreciate your work.

[barfife]

I am really enjoying your story. Keep up the good work.

[Jellyman]

brokedown,

thanks for the great first effort! i appreciate how you must balance family, work and writing. thank you!

[Ozarks Lady]

I like your story very much. I caught myself holding my breath while the to gang bangers were talking outside his hideout.

We are waiting patiently for more. LOL

[fastback08]

I just found this story. I am impressed. Really enjoying it so far.

[brokedownbiker]

Thanks for the compliments everyone, I appreciate it. I finally got a chance to sit down and bang out another chapter in between working in the rain on my new piece of land and helping out a buddy with mechanical work. I'm taking the rest of the weekend off and SHOULD be able to get another chapter out (keeping my fingers crossed).

[brokedownbiker]

Chapter 4

Crouching in the undergrowth near the tree line where the little strip of greenbelt came almost to the beach, the man surveyed the shoreline for signs of movement. After 2 hours of careful maneuvering through the empty landscape, he had finally arrived near the spot where he had hidden his kayak. Seeing nothing to cause him any worry, he moved parallel to the beach looking for signs of traffic on or near his hiding place. Seeing nothing, he doubled back and slowly approached the shore. This was a dangerous time; the sound of the surf lapping against the beach would cover sounds that might alert him to ambushes or other dangers. The late afternoon sky was already beginning to darken as the late winter sun, hidden behind clouds all day, started its descent toward the western horizon.

Finding the craft still covered as he had left it, he quickly pulled it down to the water and climbed aboard; settling into the cockpit after stowing his gear and beginning to paddle out into the stretch of water that separated the southern tip of Whidbey Island from the mainland. Keeping his eyes on the darkening skies, he fell into a steady rhythm; smoothly dipping the paddle into the water and pushing the small craft forward, left, then right, then left again. He paused every minute or so to allow his arms to rest and took the opportunity to scan the horizon for any sign of approaching craft and to check the sky. The clouds were piling up to the west, likely indicating another cold rain storm on its way. He renewed his paddling, hoping to making landfall before the rain reached his position.

The man's thoughts kept returning to the previous evening. The basement with its shelves full of food, the mysterious locked door still guarding its contents, and the risk of losing it all to the roving gang raced through his mind as he sliced through the light chop of the protected waters of Possession Sound. The dark bulk of the island drew near and he began to be able to pick out details of its shore. Recognizing the burned out hulk of a once impressive home on the bluff overlooking the Sound, he changed course slightly to the north; his upper body muscles were finally starting to tire from the quicker than normal pace he had set across the body of water and he looked forward to beaching the kayak and getting under cover. It looked like he might actually outrun the rain squall and get back to his shelter without getting soaked. The anticipation of being both dry and warm for the night distracted him as he rounded the final spit of land and started into the small inlet, a mistake which almost cost him his life.

As the kayak entered the narrow mouth of the inlet, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye to his left on the exposed spit of sand. He immediately dug one side of the paddle into the water and spun the kayak on its centerline. The nimble little vessel reacted instantly and he paddled with all his strength, each stroke of the paddle propelling him back out into open water, angling away from the sand spit and the would-be attacker concealed there. Quickly glancing back at the beach behind him, he saw three pairs of men race out onto the beach from the gloomy darkness of the tree-line; a pair to each side of the narrow inlet and another at its furthest reach . The attackers raised their weapons toward him and he ducked as low as the kayak allowed him to as he stroked the paddle deeply into the sea and waited for the impact of bullets into his back. The arrow that flashed out of the sky only inches from his nose and buried itself in the deck of the kayak directly in front of him caught him completely off guard and a short yell of surprise slipped from his mouth. Another shaft struck the boat at the stern and he began to swerve the agile little boat at random, left and right, to try and throw off the aim of the men on the beach behind him. Two more arrows slipped into the water with a hiss to his right before his frantic paddling moved him back out of range of the bows. He paused for a moment to turn and carefully scan the beach area as well as the shoreline to his north and south in case the attackers had boats and were planning on chasing him across the water.

The group had gathered on the narrow strip of sand that had concealed the man whose movement had first alerted him to their presence. Four or five of the men stood at the waterline and stared out at him, shouting curses at him and shaking their fists and bows at him. One man, the leader of the group based on his actions, had another man by the shirt, screaming at him while slamming his fist into the man's terrified face. Apparently this was the man whose premature movement had allowed the kayaker and his valuable craft to escape from an otherwise well designed ambush and he was paying a very painful price for his mistake. After several savage blows, the man was released and fell to the ground in a motionless heap.

Not wanting to taunt the men by sitting there in plain view, the man dug his paddle into the cold green water and headed back out to sea just as the rain began to fall. The first small drops hitting the surface of the water caused a sizzling sound that became a constant slapping sound as the full brunt of the storm overtook the small craft and its lone occupant. After quickly removing the worn poncho from his pack in the compartment behind him, he pulled it over his head and draped it over the cockpit opening, hoping to stay at least partially dry. He was still pumped full of adrenaline from the attempted ambush and his narrow escape and his hands began to shake from the reaction as his stomach knotted; he gritted his jaws shut to hold down the rising bile as his arms continued their mechanical movements with the double-ended paddle.


As he relaxed, he began to review his time on the island prior to this most recent trip into the city, trying to figure out what he had missed, what clue he had failed to see that might have warned him that he was being watched. He knew he MUST have been watched and followed during his last stay on the island, otherwise how could anyone have guessed where he would be making landfall on his return. As far as he could determine, the only other inhabitants of Whidbey Island was the small group of scavengers that had holed up in the old military fortifications at Fort Casey and fished the upper Sound in their converted sailboats. They had claimed the northern end of the island with its Naval base and the town of Oak Harbor, the islands largest town, as their own for scavenging. The man had few dealings with them; he stayed on the southern end of the island as it offered easier access to the larger cities and the scavenging opportunities but had occasionally traded with them when he had located women's personal hygiene items during his forays into Mukilteo and Everett. A single box of feminine pads had earned him a full basket of dried fish only last month, a great trade even though it had caused him to be the object of many crude jokes and off-color comments from the men of the little community. He didn't mind since the fish would be an excellent source of protein for weeks to come. The thought of the remainder of that fish sitting at his shelter on the island behind him caused a rush of frustrated anger mixed with dismay as he realized that it was probably already gone, along with everything else he had accumulated from his risky scavenging trips into the gang infested cities. It only made sense that if the ambushers had known of his landing spot, they had most likely found his shelter only a few hundred yards back into the forest from their present position. This loss, coupled with his being forced to flee from the basement and its amazing treasure of food and unknown goodies inside the locked room, left the man depressed and at a loss as to what he should do next, with only the items in his pack and packed in and on the kayak; he was suddenly thrust back to the ugly, hungry days right after the Big Drop.

[sabretech2001]

Thanks for continuing this story. And thanks for avoiding the "everyone else is dead/gone/missing, so what's left is a free buffet" meme that is all too common in this style of story. Not to mention the other annoying meme: TSHF, and suddenly everyone isn't selfish and shortsighted they way humans have been since forever, and now join hands and pitch in whilst singing Kumbaya.

[RunAndGun]

You are really doing a good job! Thank you.

[WiseOwl]

I am getting a "The Road" feel from this story. Thanks!

[kihnspiracy]

Thoses are my old stomping grounds. Excellent story.

[SCinPNW]

Nice continuation of the story BD. Thanks for taking the time to do this.

SC

[brokedownbiker]

Thanks for the nice words, everyone. I think I'm starting to find my 'groove', the story is starting to come to me a lot easier.