Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (45 page)

“I get all that, Pete,” said Bonnie, “but I don’t understand why you were so worried. They were just looking. And like you said, we aren’t hiding anything.”

“True . . . we’re not hiding anything that we knew of,” said Pete, “but what if they wanted to take everything we had, like they were doing on Fort Hood? What would we do if they decided to take our fuel, food, or guns? It would make our survival difficult, if not impossible. I won’t stand for a gang, or even cops taking our stuff.”

Bonnie gasped. “Pete, you would shoot it out with the cops over this stuff?” she said, with a wave of her hand toward the back of the truck.”

“Bonnie, you still don’t get it. We need this stuff to live, honey. There are no more grocery stores, no more gas stations, banks, convenience stores, restaurants . . . no more nothing. It’s all gone! Everything is different now. Yes, I will use deadly force to protect this stuff because we need it to survive. Without these supplies we could die in a matter of weeks, or maybe even days,” said Pete, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He willed himself to relax and drew in a few deep breaths.

Bonnie was silent for a minute, but finally said, “I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You’re not upsetting me, Bonnie. I don’t like what’s going on any more than you do. We just need to be strong. It will be better when we reach John’s . . . I know it will.”

“If you say so, but I think he’ll be in the same condition that we are.”

“No. You don’t know John like I do. He knew the disaster was coming, Bonnie. He was prepared before it came. I bet he’s not stressing about anything right now.”

O
nce clear of Waco and the troubling checkpoint, the interstate traffic was light. Pete decided to stay on it a little longer since they were making such good time. They couldn’t help but notice all the stalled cars and trucks along the southbound shoulder of the interstate. There were a few stalled cars on the northbound shoulder as well, but not near as many as on the opposite side. In fact, there were so many vehicles on the southbound shoulder that it looked like a third lane had developed.

Bonnie also noticed, and provided a rolling commentary on, the large number of people walking along the interstate. Again, most of them were along the southbound shoulder, walking next to and among the stalled cars and trucks. There were a few individuals, but most people moved in groups of eight to ten, and all were coated in ash. To Pete, they looked like refugees, displaced persons from a nuclear war-zone. Even to the point that many carried bags, suitcases, and bundles over their shoulders. Almost everyone, regardless of age, had something over their nose and mouth, which only added to the strange, twilight-zone effect of the scene.

About fifteen miles north of Waco, the interstate traffic began to thicken once again. Pete took that as a sign to exit and face the more promising option of traveling the many available side roads. After what they had experienced heading into Waco, he wasn’t willing to risk any more delays. Getting trapped on the interstate was something he seriously wanted to avoid. Besides, he needed his truck. They would never make it to John’s walking.

A huge fan of options, Pete recognized how they affected survival. He was keenly aware that people without options became desperate people, and desperate people did desperate things. There was a big difference between prepared survival and desperate survival. The later often involved death. Pete’s view on death was simple, it was pretty much live and let live until the threat dictated otherwise. He may not be the first to fire his weapon, but when he did he never missed. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use deadly force to reach John’s, but he doubted that would be the case. Things were already crazy.

When Pete exited the interstate, Bonnie asked for a bathroom break. They passed an interstate rest stop, but it was so packed with cars and trucks that they couldn’t get close to it. But even during normal times, Pete wasn’t a fan of interstate rest stops, so stopping at one now, when they were packed with survivors, was entirely out of the question. He promised Bonnie that he would find her a safe place to pee, and he was busy looking for just such a place when she spoke up.

“What about over there?” asked Bonnie, as she pointed to a gravel road semi-hidden between two native stands of mesquite and cedar. They weren’t as dense as native stands, which told Pete that someone had taken the time to clear them of their low lying brush and branches. He had no doubt they were on private property. Pete stopped and scanned the area with keen eyes. There was a barbed-wire fence, but no sign, gate or even a mailbox. He pulled forward and then backed the truck down the gravel road until they were hidden from view. Pete could still hear the cars passing by on the elevated interstate, but he was completely out of sight, and that pleased him. He set the parking brake and turned to Bonnie, “Can you wait a sec while I do a security check of the area?”

“Only if you want me to pee in my pants,” replied Bonnie.

“Right. Well, I’ll make it quick then,” said Pete. He shut his eyes, opened the door, and stepped out. With the door shut and the interior dome light out, Pete reopened his eyes and quickly scanned the
area. After a short walk down the road he found an open gate. A brief inspection of the trees revealed no threats, so he approached the truck, on Bonnie’s side, and opened her door with closed eyes.

Amused, she asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m protecting my night vision,” replied Pete. As soon as she was out of the truck he shut the door and opened his eyes again. Bonnie walked away and immediately stumbled on a rock. She cursed once and flipped on her little flashlight.

“I wish you wouldn’t use that right now,” said Pete.

“How can you see in the dark?” she asked, clearly annoyed with Pete.

“I’ve got good night vision. Besides, we don’t want to advertise our presence, so if you can manage without a light I would greatly appreciate it.” Bonnie huffed and Pete added, “Wait a minute and your eyes will adjust to the dark.”

“Fine, fine. How long are we going to be here?” she asked.

“There’s no rush. I just want to blow ash off the filter and add some fuel to the truck . . . I’d say fifteen to twenty minutes.”

Bonnie wasted no time heading to the trees, and Pete went straight to the back of the truck to get the air compressor. He spent the next ten minutes cleaning the air filter, but it was difficult to determine how effective the results were in the dark. He wished he had a red-lensed flashlight, but he couldn’t plan for every contingency, especially in the disaster world gone crazy overnight. When Bonnie was ready to reenter the truck, Pete opened the driver’s side door to inspect the filter under the interior dome light.

Happy to see the filter clean, at least much cleaner than it was before their previous stop, Pete put it back in the box and turned his attention to the t-shirt pre-cleaner. He stole an occasional glance at Bonnie while he worked, and was happy to see her thumbing through the maps under a flashlight. Pete closed the hood and Bonnie jumped. “Sorry, Bon. I’m almost done,” said Pete through the window. He hated making so much noise, but he didn’t have a choice.

The truck’s fuel tank was about half full, so Pete decided to add two five-gallon cans. That wouldn’t top off the tank, but it would be enough to get him to John’s house without another refueling stop. As Pete lifted the can to pour in the fuel, he heard the crack of a small stick. He would have missed it entirely if the air compressor was running, but he was sure it was tied to the weight of a human foot. Acting as if he heard nothing, Pete stood and walked to the truck and opened the driver’s side door. With eyes closed, he said in a louder than normal voice, “I need to pop the hood again. I’m almost done.”

To Bonnie’s credit, she just stared at him and said nothing. Pete pulled the hood release and walked to the front of the truck. He casually lifted the heavy hood, and as soon as it was up he crouched down and hurried off into the trees to his right. He drew his pistol, and moving quickly and silently through the trees to his right, Pete made his way around behind where he thought he heard the noise.

Drawing upon years of tactical training, Pete worked his way around the trees and emerged on the road well beyond the truck. He silently knelt, and using the occasional passing headlights of the vehicles on the freeway, he scanned the area for the source of the sound.

Pete was very alert to sound and movement while he walked. Using a toe-to-heel technique that allowed his foot to set lightly on the ground under his feet, he moved and scanned for potential threats. He stopped every few paces to listen for anything that would betray his target. Suddenly, up ahead and to his right, Pete spotted someone crouching behind a cedar tree. It was a man, and he was armed with what looked to be a shotgun. He was crouched behind a tree less than five yards from the back corner of Pete’s truck. It looked to Pete like the man was planning to surprise him when he returned to add more fuel to his truck.

Pete considered throwing a rock at the truck to distract the guy, but he didn’t want Bonnie to climb out and investigate. She was already in more danger than she deserved. His safest option, now that he was behind the threat, was to confront him directly. Pete removed the
Surefire tactical flashlight from his pocket and positioned it into his left hand using the Graham Technique. The technique allowed Pete to keep two hands on the pistol, and use the pressure-on button of the flashlight to illuminate a target. He knew the highly concentrated beam of the Surefire flashlight would disorient the target long enough to either safely disarm him, or shoot him.

Pete stood, and after taking cover behind a tree of his own, he turned the flashlight on. The super-bright beam made the man turn, and Pete raised it to shine directly in his eyes. In a firm and commanding voice, Pete yelled, “Drop the gun now, or I drop you.”

The man immediately threw the shotgun to the ground and yelled, “Don’t shoot, mister. You’re on my property, is all I can rightly say. I just came down here to check things out. I saw you pull in and I was worried, that’s all.”

It was an old man, perhaps in his late seventies or early eighties. He was wearing overalls, with an old beat-up straw cowboy hat tilted to one side of his head. “It looked to me like you were waiting to ambush me,” said Pete, as he held the light in the man’s eyes.

“Pete! Is everything all right?”

“Stay in the truck Bonnie. I’ll be done in a second,” answered Pete.

The old man turned to look at Bonnie and Pete said, “Sir, don’t look over there. What’s your name?”

“The name’s Turner, Robert Turner. Can you please move that light out of my eyes? It’s burning a hole clean through my brain.”

Pete chuckled to himself and lowered the beam to the man’s chest. “Well, Mr. Turner, I don’t know what to make of you trying to sneak up on me. I could have killed you.”

“Well, I reckon you’re right about that. But please, call me Robert,” said the old man, as he removed his hat to wipe sweat off his brow with the green bandanna.

Pete walked up to the man and looked him over. “I’m sorry to scare you like that. I didn’t know what kind of threat I was facing. I’m Pete,” and he extended a hand to the man after holstering his pistol.
“You mind if I take a look at your shotgun?” Pete asked, as he reached down to pick it up off the ground.

“No, of course not. Help yourself,” said the man called Robert. He was breathing heavily, and leaning hard against the tree that had previously served as his concealment.

Pete examined the double-barreled, twelve-gauge shotgun, and unloaded it with a quick break of the chamber. He placed the two shells in his pocket and handed the shotgun to Robert. “Do you need a drink of water? You don’t look well.”

“Yes’er, water would be really fine right about now. I thank you kindly.”

Pete called for Bonnie and she stuck her head out the window. But before she could ask any questions, Pete said, “Can you bring a bottle of water for Mr. Turner, please?”

Bonnie brought the water and eyed Robert suspiciously as she walked around him. With a signal from Pete, she handed him the water, but it was Pete who offered the introduction. “Bonnie, this is Robert Turner. Robert, this is my wife, Bonnie.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am? Thanks for the water. Do you mind if I sit for a spell?” he asked, after looking at Pete.

“Please,” replied Pete, with a sitting hand gesture to the ground. “Be my guest.”

“I thank you for not shooting me. My missus would have been terribly upset with me. She told me to stay put and all, but you know how it is,” said Robert.

“That I do,” said Pete. “Look, we apologize for trespassing. We weren’t planning to stay long. Bonnie needed to pee, and I needed to do some maintenance on my truck. As a matter of fact, before I heard you in the trees, we were getting ready to leave.”

“Well, if you’re not in a hurry, why don’t you come on up to the house for a visit. You seem like decent folk, and we could sure use some word about what’s going on around us. Besides,” sighed Robert, “I could sure use a ride back up to the house.”