The Borrowed World: A Novel of Post-Apocalyptic Collapse (12 page)

“Pete?” Ellen called back through the house.

“Yes?” Pete said cautiously, sensing that he was going to be called into labor.

“Fill the big pasta pot with water and start heating it on the grill burner.”

“Ahhh, why can’t Ariel do it?” he griped, walking into the kitchen.

“First, she can’t lift it,” Ellen said.  “Second, she’s going to wash the dishes when there’s hot water.  Would you prefer to do the dishes?”

“No,” he said quickly.  “I’ll fill the water.”

She patted him on the back.  “Just as I suspected.”

While Pete set about finding the pot, Ellen got a flashlight and headed into the basement.  In one corner of the basement was a large yellow Jobbox, a massive steel locker that contractors bolted to the floor on jobsites to prevent tools from being stolen at night.  It had a shielded hasp that allowed you to padlock it.  Without a cutting torch, these boxes were tough to get into.  Jim kept it bolted to the basement floor and stored ammunition and a few other items in it.

Ellen retrieved a hidden key and opened the padlock.  The heavy lid had gas shocks that assisted with opening it.  Shining her flashlight into the box, she was amazed at the amount of ammunition Jim kept.  She’d been in the box before, helping him load ammunition for shooting, but she’d never looked fully in there or paid attention.  It was not hundreds of rounds.  It was not thousands of rounds.  It was tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of rounds.  There were also more magazines for the various weapons.  She picked up a plastic shoebox and found it to be full of knives of different sizes and blade configurations.

“Oh, Jim,” she whispered, half out of admiration, half because she didn’t know what else to say.  Being in the basement, in his domain, made her miss him deeply.

She turned her light around the room and saw an empty five gallon bucket.  She brought it closer and turned her attention to the stacks of ammunition.  Remembering the M-4 and Mini-14, she knew that they needed more 5.56 caliber than anything else.  There were large boxes and small boxes. She scanned them, then took out several 20 and 50 round boxes of 5.56 from brands like Wolf, Tulammo, American Eagle, and Federal.  When she had about five hundred rounds in the bucket, she switched calibers.  She took a five hundred round brick of .22 for Pete’s gun and stuck it in the bucket.  For the pistols, she took a 250 round box of Remington UMC in 9mm and .45.  For good measure, she grabbed another 50 round box of Speer .380.

She hadn’t even made a dent in the supply.  There were additional calibers in there that she didn’t even realize they had weapons for.  She had to assume Jim had a few tricks up his sleeve.  At this very moment, she was very comforted by that thought.  Though she had women friends who were scared of guns, she’d always found them comforting.  The contents of this box and the weapons upstairs would go a long way toward assuring that she and her children were not victims of the desperate and immoral.

She took the bucket upstairs, surprised at the weight of the ammunition.  With the bucket bouncing off her leg, she made her way down the hall and into the bedroom where she sat the bucket down with a thud.  With the generator running, Ariel had wasted no time in putting in a DVD and was lying on Ellen’s bed watching a movie.  Ellen had forgotten that the bedroom was wired into the transfer switch, but recalled Jim doing it when the kids were younger so they could watch TV during a blackout.  That distraction would make the whole event easier for both the parents and the children.

“I’ll need you to wash out those pots and pans when the water heats up,” Ellen reminded her.

“Okay,” Ariel replied weakly, as if exhausted by the burdens already placed upon her today.

“Good girl,” Ellen said.  “Now I need you two to help me fill up all these empty rifle and pistol magazines.”

Ariel perked up at that.  She found anything to do with guns much more entertaining than dishes.

“Go get Pete,” Ellen said.  “You two can watch the movie while we do this.”

Back in our gloomy hotel room, Gary and I sat on the floor by the glass balcony door and dug into the cooler.  We offered to share but the women all said that they’d eaten their fill at the tents before we got back.  That being the case, we ate as much as could, not knowing where our next meal would come from.  Even cold, the burgers were delicious.  Maybe not worth dying for, but pretty damn close.

Ever the facilitator, Gary cleared his throat and leaned back against the patio door, speaking between bites.  “Maybe we should talk about our plans for tomorrow to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

I kept eating.  Group discussions never went well for me.  They always turned into a fight when I was involved.  People said it was because I was oppositional.  I said it was because they were assholes.

Alice, also used to being a facilitator, jumped right in with him.  “That’s probably a good idea, Gary.  I don’t see that there is much to discuss, though.  Sounds like we really only have one option here, going by what that officer told us today.”

“There’s never just one option,” I commented, knowing that I should probably keep my mouth shut.  I had moved on to a hot dog with chili and coleslaw now.  It was good, too.

“Of course,” Rebecca said.  “Mr. Difficult over there can’t just agree with anything.  You tell him the sky is blue and he has to offer an exception.”

I ignored her and concentrated on my hot dog.  I thought of responding to her with my middle finger but I could occasionally show some restraint.

“Before you’re so quick to label Jim,” Gary said, “I wanted to bring this up because I’m pretty sure we all will
not
be in agreement with how to proceed from here.”

“Really?” Alice asked.  She was looking at Gary curiously, as if he’d announced a move to the dark side.  In her eyes, that meant that he agreed with me on something.

Gary looked at me as if waiting on me to jump in and take over with the explanation.  They were less likely to argue with him since they felt he was less antagonistic.  They already thought I was disagreeable and contrary, and I agreed with that, so I left Gary to it.  I was both enjoying the food and enjoying someone else taking the contrarian position for a change.  Let him lay out his arguments and see how they dealt with it.  I would enjoy the show and try to keep my mouth shut unless I was shoving food into it.

“I can’t speak for anyone else but I’m not comfortable with placing my trust in FEMA,” Gary said.  “I want to get home.  I’m very worried about my family.  You all know I have a houseful of daughters and granddaughters that I’m very concerned about.  I think I can get myself home faster without entangling myself in FEMA’s bureaucracy.”

“Amen!” I said between bites of baked beans.  The beans were good, too.  I had the thought that churches probably actively recruited good cooks, using them to lure heathens like myself into the fold.  It was practically a conspiracy.

“So what exactly are you planning on doing?” Rebecca asked.  “Walking home?”  From the look on her face, the pure astonishment, Gary might just have easily announced that he’d be taking a goat as his next wife.

Gary looked at me and shrugged, still looking for some backup.  “Well, yeah.  That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“I’m not sure that’s safe,” Alice commented, always acting as the risk manager.  Her tone was both maternal and condescending, as if she would start patting him on the back of the hand while she was making the comment.

I put down my plastic fork and took a swig of my warm bottled water.  “I’m pretty sure it’s not safe,” I said.  “There’s no guarantee that those camps will be safe, either.  There’s probably not much of anything that can absolutely be guaranteed to be safe anymore.  But it’s not about safety, it’s about having control of your own future.  I am not about to relinquish that control to the government.  Hell, we work for the government, we’re as aware of the inefficiencies as anyone could be.”

“The government is not the enemy,” Rebecca hissed, exasperated.  “You conspiracy theorists wear me out with your crazy bullshit.”

“In some cases the government is most definitely the enemy,” I shot back.  “That’s not exactly what I’m talking about though.  I’m talking about
capability
.  I am pretty sure I am capable of getting myself home in a couple of weeks on my own by walking.  I’ve backpacked extensively.  I am
not
sure FEMA is capable of getting us home efficiently.  We may sit in those FEMA camps for months while they attempt to work out the logistics of getting people home.  Remember that once you’re there and safe you become less of a priority for them.  Getting you safely to the camp is more important to them than getting you home.”

“You don’t know that,” Alice said.

“No, we don’t know that for sure” Gary interjected, “however, experience and history suggest it.  I’m not trusting my life – and my family’s safety – to them, either.  How would this work if our own agency was in charge of these camps?  You know with fuel limited, we would conduct a survey in order to figure out a route where we could drop the most people off using the least fuel.  That process of surveying and determining a route could take a week or two, especially if the situation is constantly changing with new people showing up.  You know this is just going to turn into some kind of mess.  The task will be so daunting, and resources so limited, that nothing will get done.”

“You could always go and see what it’s about,” Rebecca said.  “Then you could leave later if you wanted to.  You’d at least be about twenty-five miles further down the road.  That’s twenty-five miles you wouldn’t have to walk.”

“No way,” I said.  “I’m not turning my weapons over to them, which they would probably require prior to getting on their buses.  Also, I bet residents of the camps will not be free to come and go as they please.  That would make the camp too difficult to secure.  My guess is that the camps will be fenced and guarded and they will limit traffic in and out.”

“That’s pretty paranoid,” Rebecca said.

Gary shook his head.  “In this case, I don’t think so.  I’ve read those government reports on disaster response.  I know how they will respond.  Jim and I are of a like mind on this.  I think we’ll try our luck on foot.”

Alice turned to Rebecca sitting beside her on the bed.  “So I guess you and I are taking the bus out of here tomorrow?”

Rebecca nodded.  “Damn right.  I think you guys are nuts for trying to walk home.”

“Randi?” Alice said.  “You haven’t said anything.  I’m assuming you’re going with us, too?  Are the girls sticking together?”

Randi was standing in the patio door, smoking a cigarette and blowing her smoke outside.  She was slow to respond, appearing to think it over.

“No offense, Alice, but I think I’m going with the guys.”

“Really?”
Rebecca asked, clearly shocked.

“Oh hell yeah,” Randi said.  “I would go nuts sitting around a shelter worrying about my grandkids.  At least this way I’m doing something.  And like they said, I’ll be in control.”

“I think you’re crazy, too,” Rebecca said bluntly, staring at Randi.

“Well, I think you’re a fucking snarky bitch and I’ve about had all of your condescending attitude that I’m going to take,” Randi replied without hesitation.  “You’ve never shown me the first bit of respect in all the years that I’ve known you and I’m over it.  You open your mouth to me again and I’m going to slap your damn soul right out of it.”

It was so damned funny I nearly spat chocolate cake out my nose.

“Let’s not argue, ladies,” Alice said, quickly intervening.  “There’s too much going on for us to waste time fighting with each other.”

Rebecca was staring at Randi.  Randi stared back amused.  I had no doubt that Randi would slap the shit out of Rebecca without hesitation if Rebecca opened her mouth again.  Rebecca seemed to realize this also.

“Randi, we’ll be glad to have you,” I said.  “We’ll need to do some planning tonight to get ourselves ready.  We’ll also need to consolidate your luggage down to something easier to carry.”

She sighed.  “You mean leave the expensive, heavy shit behind, right?  Like shampoo?”

I nodded.

“I don’t have luggage, Randi,” Alice said.  “Anything you want to leave in your bag, you can give me to me and I’ll take it with me.  I’ll get it back to you whenever we get back to work.”

“That’ll work,” Randi said.  “Thanks.”

*

After the sun began to set later that evening, there was a lot of noise and yelling coming through the open patio door.  Music blared from a car stereo, and I was glad that I wasn’t outside.  It sounded like trouble was brewing.  Since there was no law tonight and they would be forced to move on tomorrow, this night would likely present a good opportunity for folks intent on getting into trouble. 

Gary and I sat on the floor, Randi beside us.  Despite my recommendation that they not do so, Rebecca and Alice had taken a walk.  They were determined to find some type of restroom facility, or at least a more private bush than the one the desk clerk had pointed them to earlier.  Their desire to stay out late was probably driven by my warning to stay in.  What the hell did I know, right?

“Is your bug out bag fully stocked?” I asked Gary.

“Yes, it is.  I built it off the list you gave me so it should be mostly like yours, with a few personal variations.”

“What the hell is a bug out bag?” Randi asked.  “Ya’ll got to speak English around me.”

“A bug out bag is basically a survival kit for an event where you might have to get the hell out of dodge.” I answered.  “Mine, and I guess Gary’s, are primarily designed to get us back home in the event of an emergency.  Some people refer to it as a Get Home Bag.”

She stared at me.  “You take that damn thing everywhere you go?”

“Not everywhere,” I replied.  “Just if I travel any distance from home.  There are a lot of people out there, me included, who have felt that it was just a matter of time until some shit hits the fan scenario took place and that we needed to be better prepared.”

“Are you, like, some doomsday survivalists or something?” She was not the least bit accusing or condescending, just curious.  She leaned forward and whispered.  “Are you guys in a militia, too?”

“No, we’re not in a militia,” Gary chuckled.  “Jim and I just started talking about this at the same time.  It was after Hurricane Katrina.  I never thought that people in our country could just be abandoned like that for days to fend for themselves.  When I saw the footage of those people in that convention center, I swore I would never be one of them.  Jim and I talked about it at lunch every day.  We started reading books, following websites, and found there were a lot of people like us who felt the same way.”

“Ya’ll care if I smoke?” Randi asked.

We both shook our heads.

“Anyway, we both carry about the same basic items with a few extras thrown in.  We have some food, water, a means of shelter, a way to start fire, and spare clothes. We also carry at least one firearm and spare ammo,” I said.  “Tonight, I’m going to repack my bag and get things ready for tomorrow.  I’m also going to do a little recon through the hotel and see if I can pick up anything that might help with our journey.”

“I didn’t bring any of the kind of stuff you guys brought,” she said.  “I just brought girl shit.  Plus a pocketknife.  My daddy always said a girl should have a knife.”

“Your daddy was right,” I said.

“How am I going to carry my stuff?” Randi asked.  “Any ideas?”

“I thought about that earlier,” Gary said, getting up and taking a pillow from the bed.  “I thought we could make a drawstring pack out of a pillowcase.”

Gary dumped the pillow out of the case.  He drew a Kershaw folding knife from his pocket and put a slit in the wide hem near the opening of the pillow case.

“Hand me some cord,” he said.

I pulled out a roll of 550 paracord from my pack and started to cut some off but had trouble making myself do it.  I looked around the room and saw the cord hanging from the blinds on the patio door.  I decided to use it instead and save mine for later.  I drew the blinds to the position that left the most slack in the cord, and then cut it free.  That left me with about fifteen feet of strong white cord about the same diameter as the paracord.  I handed it to Gary.

Gary threaded the cord through the hem of the pillowcase, creating a drawstring closure. At the bottom corners of the pillowcase, he tied knots in the case.  He then took the excess string from the drawstring, halved it, and tied the end of each half around the knotted ends of the pillowcase, creating shoulder straps.  This would allow the pillowcase to be worn on the back in roughly the manner of a backpack.

“Take this,” Gary said.  “Put what you need in there from your luggage.  Be very selective, because we’ve got a long way to go and this will not be comfortable with a lot of weight in it.”

Randi stared at the pack.  “What should I bring?”

“Another pair or two of your thickest socks, comfortable underwear, an extra pair of pants, an extra shirt, any jacket or raincoat you might have, maybe any extra lighters.  Just the bare minimum pretty much.  And wear your most comfortable walking shoes,” I instructed.