EMP 1500 MILES FROM HOME (8 page)

I looked at the trailer and wondered how Stubs even got through the door. "Would you mind if we looked at his shoes to see if any might fit us?"

"Go ahead," Slim said, looking down at my feet. "Stubs had pretty big feet, although maybe not as large as yours."

It turned out that Stubs wore a size 13 EEEEEE. All he had were sneakers. Yeti could wear them, although they were a bit wide for him. I tried a pair on and my toes hit the end before I could slip my heel in the shoe. My wingtips would have to last a while longer.

We took three pair of sneakers for Yeti, as well as some wide socks that we found. Yeti and I could both wear the socks. My single pair already had holes in the heels and toes. Julie was in pretty good shape as she was wearing her best boots and they still had a lot of miles left in them.

We loaded our cart with the extra guns and ammunition. I also traded a small pistol and a box of cartridges to Becky for all of the cigarettes Bill left behind. There were several cartons, as well as a few cheap butane lighters.

Julie looked at me kind of funny when I put them in the cart. "I didn't know you smoked, Wayne?"

"I don't. None of us do. But they might come in handy."

"OK," I could see Julie was a little puzzled. She hadn't connected the cigarettes to my plan, and having been raised in the high desert, she knew that carrying a bunch of extra stuff was not always a good idea. However, the cigarettes were lightweight so she didn't say anything about it.

Yeti

I have been thinking about the people here. They will not survive. They simply don't have the will for it. I was pleased to find out that I do.

All my life I have thought of myself as a physical coward. It turns out I am not. I managed to fire the rifle when I needed to. Wayne and Julie told me they are proud of me. No one has ever said that to me before. Even when I got my high school diploma early, the other kids just called me names like freak, nerd, worthless, and book-head. For the first time since I was a toddler, with Julie and Wayne, I feel like I belong. It is a good feeling.

Wayne

We waved goodbye as we left at first light. Julie was leading on horseback while Yeti and I walked alongside the horse pulling the cart. My shoulder hurt, but Julie had bandaged it well. She talked one of the women out of three tubes of polysporin cream. Julie said it didn't have the pain relief that the good stuff had, but it would have to do. Lucy swore by the stuff. We used it a lot at home. I hoped it would help my gunshot wound heal without infection.

I could move my right arm fairly well, but not rapidly. It hurt too much. I thought I would regain full mobility of my right shoulder and arm though. I had been lucky.

This time Yeti was carrying an AR-15, with two extra magazines. I showed him how to use it, and let him shoot fifteen practice rounds. We simply could not afford to use up any more .223 rounds as we only had eighty-five left. I laughed to myself a bit. We were gun rich and ammo poor.

After a while I let Yeti lead the horse and cart. I walked alongside Julie while she led her horse. The Mosin, which I could shoot left-handed almost as well as I could right-handed, was on the cart.

When Cap taught me to shoot, he made me spend 80% of my practice time with my left hand. Then, when I reached the point where I could shoot as easily, quickly, and accurately with either hand, he switched my practice to 50/50. He also made me practice many common tasks with my left hand until, for all practical purposes, I am now ambidextrous. Cap also told me never to advertise that I could use my left hand because some day it might be my ace in the hole. Cap could be a sneaky old fart sometimes.

After a few miles we came even with a big chunk of black rock rising from the desert floor about a mile to the south of us.

"That is Black Butte," Julie said as we walked along. "My Dad told me that Black Butte is the northernmost site for human sacrifice in the US."

"Aztecs?" I asked.

"No, it was some offshoot of the Catholic church where the locals combined Christianity and some Indian customs. They beat themselves with whips, and up until 1946 when the county sheriffs got together and stamped the practice out, they held the occasional human sacrifice."

"That sounds scary. Are any of those folks still around?"

Julie shrugged, "Who knows. New Mexico still has some of the most remote and least populated areas in the US."

"Now that the lights are out, maybe they will start up with their human sacrifices again?"

"I hope not," Julie said.

"Me too."

I reflected on what had passed since the End of the World. In just a few days, since I left Socorro on the morning after, I had a total of six encounters with people. Three of those encounters proved beneficial, and three were either potentially deadly, or were deadly. That meant that half of the time, whomever we encountered would try to kill us.

I didn't like those odds, especially if—well, when really since it was bound to happen—some well-armed groups with bad intentions developed military-style discipline and training. So far the bad actors we encountered were ill trained and poorly disciplined, just thugs really.

In just a few days I had killed at least twelve men and been shot. If you had asked me before the world ended if I was capable of killing someone, I would have said no. But, before the EMP, I had never been exposed to the violent intentions of other people. Yeah, I had the occasional fistfight growing up, but no one was really hurt. However, when the lights went out, the laws vanished, and you had to be ready to do whatever it took to protect yourself, because there were people who would kill you for what little you had.

I walked several miles just thinking about how to avoid conflicts on the road ahead, or win them if there was no way to avoid them. I needed a highly trained and disciplined group of people on my side if I was to maximize my chances of reaching home again safely. The romantic notion of a single man succeeding against all odds seemed a lot like bullshit to me right now, especially when my shoulder hurt more than usual.

After a few months, I thought things might get better. Cap would have said that was just wishful thinking, and maybe it was. Time would tell. The problem was, Cap was usually right.

We kept plugging along. We passed a few other shacks and camping trailers, but no one came outside. I did see the curtains move on one of the trailers so I knew we were being watched. By now I was carrying the Mosin in my left hand. I could raise my right arm just high enough to support the Mosin.

The Mosin was fully loaded with five rounds, the safety was off, and the bayonet was extended. Not the safest way to carry the thing, but by far the fastest way to bring it into action. Once we were out of rifle shot from the dwellings, I put the safety on and put the Mosin back in the cart. I left the bayonet extended.

We made another five miles before we left the highway and sought a concealed location for a camp. Yeti did well today. Once he walked three miles without resting. At this rate, he would be down a lot of weight before too long. Right now he was sound asleep in the cart, completely worn out. Julie was again on her horse leading the way. I led the horse pulling the cart.

I enjoyed walking. There was a time when I didn't, but now, thanks to Cap, I was a lot lighter and in much better shape. Walking was fun again, although it would be a lot more fun if I could take a hot shower. No one ever told me the End of the World would be so stinky.

After we made camp, I took the scoped 30-06 out of the cart. We only had 23 cartridges for it, so I hesitated to sight it in. However, the scope might be useful in making longer-range shots. Cap trained me in sniper tactics. Although I doubted I absorbed enough to hold a candle to a real sniper, I did think I might be a better long-range shot than the average hunter. That would have to do.

I took the 30-06 a few hundred yards from camp. Yeti was awake now and went with me. I paced off 200 yards and set up an old board I had picked up along the road and tossed into the cart for just this purpose. I used the old butcher knife, which I carried in my belt, to carve a cross in the board. That gave me an aiming point.

Back at the starting point, where Yeti waited, I lay down with the 30-06, removed the scope protectors, and aimed at the cross. I fired and the board fell down. I hit it, but wasn't sure where.

It turned out that I hit the very top corner of the board, some three feet from my aiming point. Two more shots and the rifle was zeroed at 200 yards. That meant that for anything out to 250 yards, headshots were possible with no scope adjustment. At 300 yards it would shoot about ten inches low, and at 400 yards it would shoot about 27 inches low. At 400 yards, it would hit a man in the gut if the aim point was the top of his head. 400 yards was almost a quarter of a mile.

The Mosin, on the other hand, had a flat-leaf rear sight with notches that allowed very quick range adjustment. It was calibrated from 0 up to 2,000 meters, or almost 1.25 miles. Cap told me that these old guns could actually hit man-sized targets out to 1,000 meters (0.6 miles) if the shooter was good, and maybe a mile if the shooter was truly exceptional—and this was with iron sights. Longer ranges were for volley fire where a group of soldiers rained bullets down on the enemy positions. The ability to drop even a single bullet amongst a bunch of bad guys at a mile or more might prove useful to us.

As Yeti and I walked back to camp, I longed for the good old days, only a week or so behind us, when I didn't have to think about guns and killing. Except when Cap was teaching me, of course.

I think I let Cap teach me for three reasons. First Lucy wanted me to. Second, Cap appeared to enjoy it. Third, I liked Cap. However, I never once thought I would need to use a single thing Cap taught me. I thought I was just humoring the old fart.

And now, on this dark road home, so far from those I loved, I found myself with a surrogate son, Yeti. I was passing on to Yeti everything I could remember that Cap taught me. Only this time Yeti knew that it was a life and death situation and he listened intently and often asked questions I couldn't answer. Bright boy, that one, I couldn't understand why he had been a throwaway.

Julie mothered him, but like any teenager, he resisted a bit. I suspected Julie always wanted children, and never had any.

I laughed quietly to myself—a habit I was trying to encourage for stealth reasons. Here I was with a wife and child at home whom I loved very much, yet to any passers-by Julie, Yeti, and I most likely seemed a family unit. Yeti was certainly big and tall enough to be a son of mine, and he seemed already bonded to Julie and me. I suspected Julie and I were as deeply bonded to him.

What the hell, it was the End of the World. Things were bound to be different. I figured Julie would stay at her father's ranch when I moved on, but I hoped Yeti would go with me. He would make a great brother for Ben. However, more and more I was getting into the habit of living for the day. Some planning is always necessary and good, but too much can lead to worry and indecisiveness, or so Cap taught me. We would just have to see what tomorrow would bring.

Yeti

Walking was tedious and painful. My knees hurt, my legs hurt—hell, I hurt all over. From what I read, I knew the pain was from three sources: 1) I was too damn fat and heavy, 2) Just being fat created inflammation that made my muscles and joints hurt, and 3) I was out of shape and asking my muscles to do what they were not ready for. The problem for me has been that knowing something is easy. However, doing something about it, especially when you are in almost constant pain when you are moving, has been very difficult for me. Maybe that is why I gravitated to the computer and food. The computer doesn't ask you to do much more than sit. Besides, without friends, without much social interaction, food made me feel good. It satisfied my need for endorphins.

I often thought I should have taken up running for the endorphin rush it creates, but I was never allowed to run at the orphanage. They told me I was too big and I might run into someone and hurt them. I also was not allowed to use the weights because I broke the spindly orphanage weight bench when I was ten. I was very embarrassed as I shrugged out from under the 200 pounds I had on the bar after the bench collapsed. None of the other children made a single move to help me, they just laughed, pointed, and called me names. Welcome to my world. This is what being very different can do for you.

And yes, I found it easy to bench press the 200 pounds before the bench broke beneath me. I guess by the other children's standards, I was a monster, but a monster with deep feelings that they didn't care to see.

I have felt better each and every morning since I started my journey, but I still do not feel very well. I watch Wayne as he walks effortlessly. If he needs to change direction, he does it quickly and easily. When I have to change direction, my body demands I work hard at it and that makes me slow and clumsy. I want to be like Wayne, thin, strong, and fast, although I guess I am the only one who might call Wayne thin. His shoulders are massive and muscular and his legs are strong. I estimate he weighs about 245 pounds, or a bit less. I want to look like and be like Wayne more than anyone I have ever met. That's why I decided to always stay hungry; to never eat enough to be satiated until I am thin enough.

As I watched Wayne and Julie, I couldn't believe my luck at finding two people who wanted me. Never before in my life has that happened, or even come close. Julie takes care of me like I was her own son. It makes me feel special. Wayne treats me like his own son as well. Finally, I have a mom and dad. There is no way I am going to let them down.