Living Gray

[deijoe]

Very gripping story. Cannot wait for more....

[brokedownbiker]

Nice job BD! The story is engaging and well written. I am looking forward to when you let us know what is in the locked cabinet in the basement where he found the home canned food on one of his off island trips.

Thanks for the new chapter,
SC

Hee hee, I'll get there SC, I've got to get caught back up to the 'present ' in the story. Shouldn't be too awful long as long as I can keep to my present schedule. Moving, truck troubles, dealing with some permanent injuries, it is a juggling act right now to find time to write but I think it is settling down. I'm working on it!!

Thanks for the comments, folks; feel free to PM me with any criticisms or suggestions. I'm new to this writing thing so I am open to learning.

[SCinPNW]

No worries BD, truly I am not trying to rush your story--it is too good for that. I just did not want you to think that juicy tidbit was forgotten. ;-)

Thanks again for the great story.

SC

[brokedownbiker]

No worries BD, truly I am not trying to rush your story--it is too good for that. I just did not want you to think that juicy tidbit was forgotten. ;-)

Thanks again for the great story.

SC

Understood, SC. And thanks

[RVN11B]

Outstanding!

It has been a while since I was able to sit and go through all my reading forums. It had been so long that I had to regroup and re-read this one and then catch up.

Not to worry, the effort was/is worth it.

Great story!

[brokedownbiker]

Chapter 12

The late afternoon light was beginning to fade as the man finally came to the outskirts of town. The increasingly close packed houses and subdivisions had forced him to slow his already snail-like pace in order to stay out of sight, though he still hadn’t seen another soul in the hours since he had left Bill’s home in his old neighborhood, and that fact alone had caused a cold lump to form in the pit of his stomach. Could things have gotten so bad that everyone had abandoned the island? He couldn’t believe that there were no survivors left; the island would support a small stable population in a primitive state and with scavenging the remains of the towns and neighborhoods it could probably keep a community of a couple of hundred alive if they worked together.
The lack of people hadn’t made the man lower his guard though and he had burned a lot of the daylight snaking his way around the built up areas approaching the town’s border. He had made his initial approach near the large tract of enlisted military housing on the edge of Crescent Harbor because it allowed him an opportunity to get close enough for a good inspection of the area while still affording him the safety of the forest if he needed to evade capture. He hoped that he would find an enclave of military men and women there since it would be natural for them to go home to protect their families, if that was possible. Oak Harbor, the largest town on the Island, and the main commercial hub of the area, was the home of a large Naval Air Station made up of two separate bases; one was the main airfield and command base, the other was mainly support facilities like the NEX and Commissary, gas station, etc.

There were three main housing complex’s surrounding the support base and another outside the main gate of the airfield. The housing area that he was currently watching was the furthest away from the support base and was the home of thousands of military personnel and their families. It was also the one that was isolated from the town and the bulk of the problems that would develop as civil control broke down. Its location would provide the best hope for defending it against raids and looters as it was surrounded by open fields on two sides and the harbor on the third side, with a single road coming down into the lowlands surrounding the harbor from the higher elevation that formed the backbone of the island. The road ran in a long straight line alongside the open field that formed the uphill border of the complex then skirted the complex itself before passing the lower fields that separated the homes from the forest. A couple of small side roads intersected the main route as it made its way on into the distance.

The man was confident that, if there was anyone left in the area, this housing complex or the main base itself, would be the most likely places to find them and, if he was lucky, to learn what was happening in the area as well as in the world outside. He had bypassed the main base for his first attempt at contact because he was sure that, if things were as bad as Bill’s letter had indicated, he stood a much larger chance of being shot approaching the base unannounced- something he really wanted to avoid if possible.
Knowing that he would soon lose the light, the man decided to retreat back into the woods and make camp and get some rest before he started his surveillance. His back was aching badly and he really wanted nothing more than to stretch out for a while and allow the protesting muscles and nerves to relax and, he hoped, cause the pain to subside. Locating a good site and quickly building a lean-to to keep him and his gear at least semi-dry, the man contemplated building a small fire. His campsite was in a small hollow so he decided that it was safe to do so and he gathered the makings, then erected a small windbreak from limbs and the few loose stones he could locate; he wanted to lessen the risk of the fire being seen from a distance and it would also reflect a bit of the heat back into his lean-to. Clearing his chosen fire area of flammable debris he assembled and got the small fire going, squatting and leaning as close to its flickering flames as he dared, allowing its meager heat to soak into his chilled bones. After a few moments he was forced to stand, the pain in his back rising to a screaming agony; he then limped slowly over to the pile of gear under the roof of branches of his makeshift home for the night. Lying down on the bed of soft duff and pine braches, the man could not hold back a groan as the pain shot through his back and down into his right leg. He stretched out and tried to lay on his back but he found that the pain wouldn’t allow him to stay in that position for more than a few seconds but, after a few minutes of tossing and turning, he found that if he stayed on his side with his knees pulled up toward his chest he got a measure of relief. He remained there unmoving as the gray of the winter day slowly faded into the darkness that you only find under the canopy of a forest beneath cloud-filled skies. The growling of his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since before he left Bill’s but he was reluctant to move; he didn’t want to aggravate his back so he decided to skip dinner. He needed to conserve his meager food supply anyway; his pack was pretty light. He had not brought much with him, not wanting to be slowed by the extra weight or to deal with the added load on his back. The bulk of his supplies, what there was left of them, were back at the kayak so he would have to tighten his belt or do some scavenging along the way until he could get back to them. He lay there feeding an occasional branch into the small fire and again wondered what was happening out in the world; ugly visions of death and killing and suffering came unbidden to his thoughts and he prayed that these scenes were not really happening, that Man could find his way back from the horror he seemed to be rushing toward.

A light drizzle began to fall as the night became complete and the sound of the gathering droplets falling from the trees eventually lulled the tired, aching survivor into a restless sleep. He didn’t sleep long. The sound of something moving through the dense undergrowth nearby brought to a full awareness; his body remained motionless except for his hand which slid slowly down to his belt for the little Ruger .22 caliber pistol. He quietly drew it and checked by feel for the safety which he gently moved to the fire position. The creature, whatever it was, didn’t pause as it neared his camp; it continued on through the brush at a slow but steady pace. The man slowly relaxed as the sound passed out of hearing. The fact that it had maintained a smooth pace through the ink-black forest told him that it had probably been an animal, most likely one of the small deer that lived in the remnant of forests that dotted the island. A man, even with night vision would have had a more uneven pace and occasional stumbles since the ground was invisible beneath the crowded growth that grew in this area. Putting the pistol back on safe, he re-holstered it and tried to go back to sleep but the combination of the pain, the cold, and his gnawing hunger conspired to keep him wide awake until the forest began to slowly lighten and he could begin to make out details around him. Finally, when his growling stomach threatened to wake the whole forest, the man crawled slowly out of the shelter and opened a can of Spaghetti-o’s for breakfast. Finding a few embers still glowing faintly under the ashes, he blew them back to life and got a tiny flame going to heat the can then, while it warmed, policed up the camp and took care of his morning business; feeling pretty lucky that he still had a half-roll of toilet paper, he wasn’t looking forward to the day when he was forced to use leaves and other improvised products. Finished packing, he disassembled the little shelter and spread the pieces around the area to disguise his presence, then ate his meal and buried the can in his little fire-pit after dousing the flames with plenty of dirt and ‘watering ‘ the area as a precaution. Still stiff and sore, he took a few minutes to do some basic stretching exercises and calisthenics to loosen up the muscles in his back and torso. He couldn’t afford to be unable to move quickly if it proved necessary and realized that this was going to need to be a part of his daily routine, sometimes several times a day until he could either heal up or become accustomed to his limits and find his comfort zone; that area where he could function as needed with a minimum of pain involved. Time was what he really needed but he knew that sometimes you don’t get to choose, you have to deal with life as it comes at you.

Shouldering the pack, he slowly made his way toward the edge of the woods and moved along the border until he found a vantage point where he could command a good view of the area while remaining concealed and relatively safe in the shadow of the forest.

Settling in and beginning his surveillance, he was again struck by the lack of smoke from within the residential area. With the collapse of the power grid, wood would have once again become king for cooking and heating. Along with its resurgence would come the associated chores involved in gathering and storing wood as fuel for the future which should have been visible to his searching eyes. In his movement through the border of the forest he hadn’t seen any sign of woodcutting or felling of trees, nor did he see any well-worn paths leading into or out of the tree lines that would have indicated groups gathering wood. Inside the collection of houses he saw no woodpiles, stacks of logs, or woodsheds; nothing that gave him any confidence that he might find any survivors trying to continue on with their lives.

A cold lump formed in the pit of his stomach as the hope of finding a functioning community faded but he doggedly held firm to the thought that there had to be someone somewhere here; it seemed impossible that the Island’s entire population could have disappeared so completely. One detail that caught his eye, actually its absence caught his eye, was that there were no bodies visible like had been present in his old neighborhood. The housing area looked like any typical military housing unit; well-kept lawns, aside from the tall grass in the yards, cars parked neatly. All in all, it appeared so normal that a wave of sadness washed over the man as he mourned the destruction of the world that he grew up in; the loss of so many families and the lives they had been in the process of building all wiped out in the flash of a nuke high above the center of the country. The empty feeling had been haunting him in the lonely days since grew larger as he stared at the empty housing complex.

Finally, after another hour of scanning everything within his range of sight, the man was preparing to ease back deeper into the tree-line when, on the edge of his vision, he detected a movement far up the road that led down into the neighborhood and his eyes leapt over to find out what had caught his attention. He was amazed to see a truck in the distance, slowly driving toward the large collection of homes. A rush of emotions threatened to overwhelm the man as he saw the first signs of life he had encountered since arriving on the once teeming island. He hadn’t realized just how badly the silence and stillness was affecting him but he shook it off as he watched the truck slow down and turn into the complex, then he chuckled to himself as the driver’s ingrained training caused him to turn on the turn signal before he negotiated the turn. The truck disappeared in behind the first row of house and the man cursed himself for not moving in closer when he had the chance. If nothing else could have checked the nearest houses for food to extend his meager remaining supplies. Of course, he could have been caught completely unaware by the truck’s arrival that way so maybe this was for the best, he decided. But the awareness of others being so close continued to nag at the man in spite of the potential danger they represented, and after almost another hour of indecision with the added temptation of the occasional glimpses of the truck as tit moved around the neighborhood, the man gave in and began to move in toward the outer perimeter of the base housing.

[slingshot]

Good! Been waiting for the next installment. I enjoyed it. Thanks!

[SCinPNW]

Yes, thanks for the new chapter. You are really good at the cliff hangers!

SC

[brokedownbiker]

Chapter 13


Moving quickly but quietly through the field, the man approached the first row of houses. His desire to make contact with the occupants of the truck competed with his need to maintain a low profile in order to stay safe and possibly stay alive as he knelt at the corner of a house, listening for the truck or the men who were apparently searching through the housing complex. His desire for information, to know what was happening outside of his immediate area drove him on and he cautiously made his way deeper into the collection of lonely abandoned homes.

The complex was almost a half mile long and several hundred yards across with winding roads running through it in lazy curves and circles, forcing the man to cross the streets repeatedly as he searched for the group of what he was beginning to believe were scavengers; searching the empty homes for useful items and foods that might have been left behind when the population had left for whatever reason had driven them to do so. Occasionally, he caught the growl of the truck

[deijoe]

Great story, cannot wait for more.
You have us in suspense on the vault/root cellar Mr Gray found....

[brokedownbiker]

We're almost back to Mr. 'Gray's' present, it won't be much longer, I promise! (As long as I get time to write regularly). I'm as interested as you are, believe me!

I really appreciate the interest in my story; thanks for reading!

[SCinPNW]

Great chapter BD! Take your time with the story, you are doing a nice job of filling in the back story.

SC

[tech]

Good deal! Thank you for the continuation of the adventure!

[brokedownbiker]

Sorry about the delay, folks; I should have another chapter in a few days.

[Ozarks Lady]

Didn't expect this turn of events. Very good. Thank you.