Our End Of The Lake: Surviving After The 2012 Solar Storm (Prepper Trilogy) (34 page)

“I really want to read both these books David; do you think you can spare them?”

“I don’t plan on making gun powder or dulcimers anytime soon, so you can hang on to the Foxfire book, but my Rural Ranger book is a bit different. I know the majority of what’s in that book now, but I am sort of the only trapper we got and I need for these other folks to learn, in case something happens to me.” I said pondering loaning out another irreplaceable asset.

“Well, I can see how you might not want to let it go, at the very least let me find some paper and copy these solar heater plans out of it.” He said while still looking through it.

“This thing ain’t edited all that great, but its brimming with how to’s and valuable knowledge. Did not know this tidbit, look here, how to fix a hole in a wood heater with salt, sort of like JB Weld.” He said holding the wealth of backwoods knowledge up for my inspection.

“Ok, you can borrow it, Roland probably can tell you a trick or two also about gathering game that’s not in there, but its pretty thorough on the basics and leaves the refinements to you.” I said handing over my precious book.

“Ah thanks David, I really appreciate it and will get Sarah to copy out some of it for me, before I get it back to you. If Roland is half the instructor you were for me, then I am going to learn a lot. Hell, Sarah and me would have been starving, if you had not took the time to teach me us some basics of how to snare game.” He said as his ever near Sarah came up and joined our discussion.

“I am better than John is about thinking like an animal and using sticks and brush to funnel them into a trap.” She bragged while hugging him.

“That’s a fact, but I think she cheats and knows which way I travel through the woods to scare the rabbits escaping me right into her snares.” He laughed and mushed her back.

“Just for future reference, a scared rabbit almost always loops back to his starting point when he runs.” I offered as a bit of Trivia.

“Is that in here?” John said holding up the book.

“Yes, there are a few handy tips like that in there; as well as some warnings about how to deal with feral dogs which you need to know about.” I said while opening an ammo can and offering him some soft point bullets for the Mosin.

“Roland might have a more modern weapon to offer you, but that is a hell of a long range deer rifle as thousands of dead German soldiers can attest to the accuracy of that rifle in the hands of a Russian sniper.” I said and warned him to dump some Windex, ammonia or just piss down it once in awhile to get rid of the corrosive powder residue some of the older ammunition I had given him would leave in the barrel.

“That’s gross David; he can’t whiz down the barrel of that gun.” Sarah said flustered and finding the patio company more appealing than mine and leaving us to head over that way.

“You having problems with your aim John? Can’t hit a gun barrel?” I mercilessly picked at the old Gent, which earned me a fake punch to the ribs from him.

“What’s up with you telling John to pee down a gun barrel? My mom whispered to me, when I returned to the patio and instantaneously making me start chuckling at her discomfort.

“It’s a man operated field expedient way of removing the acidy salt deposits left from using the old kinds of corrosive ammunition.” I told her so she didn’t think I had insulted John someway, like telling him to go piss up a rope.

“Well, you shouldn’t have said it in front of Sarah.” she said and went to go female translate for me what I had explained to her.

John must of overheard part of the conversation, because he wandered over to me while I was examining Roland’s defunct electric well pump and said, “Roland said we could go visit the barn, if we wanted to.” looking at me knowingly and had me wondering if our host had iced down some beer knowing how much I might like that.

“Good idea John, what’s that old song lyric?

“’Our troubles are many, they are as deep as a well’?” I think we ought to sneak off and talk about well pumps for a bit. “I said whole heartedly agreeing to the concept of a cold one or two.

I probably should not have brought that song up, because after beer number three, John wanted to go get his harmonica and play it, thereby giving up the jig that we were not just talking about well pumps over in the barn and causing my mom and Sarah to crash our early day beer bash.

Mom looked like she could kill me for drinking at all, let alone this early in the day; but got with the program when Sarah, who was John’s favorite groupie, had no problem joining in our fun and she could see the religiously abstaining Lois could even see the harmless fun in it.

“Damn, I leave for an hour and you all started a hootenanny and a barn dance without me.” Roland said walking in to put up his saddle and pulling his cowboy hat off to wipe his sweaty forehead even while smiling at our antics.

“Watch this here country boy show you how it’s done.” He said pulling a horses feed sack off the wall a producing a violin out of it.

Well, Charlie Daniels does not have anything on Roland Stiles, as that spry old man commenced to sawing on that fiddle and somewhat buck dancing to his own music at the same time. Jeb, who was in his twenty-something’s, probably was feeling roped, caught and branded, as he was required to dance with all the ladies from 40 to over 80. We all Blue Grassed the music around the barn, until Roland and John could not keep up any more and looked like two panting old dogs.

“Let’s carry this party to Bernie’s house; we are going to fall out before we even get going!” Roland said and gave instructions to Jeb to go hitch up his team to the old wagon at the end of the barn, much to the youngster’s delight to escape the gray haired gonzo extravaganza he’d bee forced to participate in.

“Anybody know how to drive a team?” Roland asked and looking about the open space of the barn. “I thought not, ok I am going to hitch Betsy to the back of that buckboard. No, not you darling, my horse.” he said satisfied with his joke at Betsy’s expense and grinning to beat tomorrow.

“This here band needs a guitar and a banjo to make a nice shindig at Bernie’s. I’m thinking we will stop off and grab Coltrane and Lloyd along the way.” Roland said feeling his cups.

Well, it was not too long after the weird conglomeration of what could move and would barely move vehicles had stopped at a couple of old wood frame shotgun houses, that we had the rest of our “band “put together with a 7ft tall old lanky redneck and a short pudgy old black man, who looked a lot like the old Mississippi Blues singer Lead Belly. And with the exception of Roland trying to get on his horse to do a rendition of his yodeling cowboy shit, while my mom drove the wagon; the music was lively and the beer was almost gone by the time we started towards Bernie’s driveway.

“Hold on a second: he told my Mom who had half way learned to just hold the horse’s reins and drive the wagon.

“We gotta choose us a song to enter on.” Roland slurred, but was unaffected by the alcohol when it came to his fiddle playing.

“Probably already heard us coming for miles Roland.” I started to get out before he hushed me.

“We need to think on this… Oh I got it, do Tennessee Flat Top Box by Rosanne Cash” and Coltrane started to sing while playing the guitar, as John whaled on his harmonica and Lloyd started his banjo up doing an exaggerated jig; while I think Stiles was doing something more like Rocky Top on that fiddle of his.

A totally delighted Bernie came two stepping out his door and dancing about his yard to the music, as the band played that light and short, but catchy tune.

“Mr. Billings!” “Mr. Stiles!” the two old comrades addressed each other at the end of the song.

So that was Bernie’s last name, I thought, sounds funny I don’t know why, Bernie Billings
.

There would be no bill today, just some impromptu fun, as I noticed Donny from across the lake slue had appeared. I gestured to come over and we would come get him and his wife and sent Jack and Sandra over to them on the Atvs with some general directions to haul the neighbor couple back but bring back booze too.

“WE GOT BEEF?! Mounds and mounds of it, looks like!” Bernie said as Roland showed him the wealth we had brought with us.

“You and me are the only ones that know how to unhitch them horses, lets have us a chat while we do it,” Roland said, while throwing his arm around his lifelong friend and Lloyd picked at his banjo doing a solo and keeping everyone festive.

Donny and his wife were not long coming and how did I already know she could play clarinet and brought it with her?

A good time was had by all and we put a sizable dent in the proffered alcohol the lake residents offered to assist the sort of strange homecoming party.

Bernie seemed to have a lot to say to my Mom off and on during the festivities; and they even showed us all up demonstrating some swing dance moves from their yesteryears.

“David, I am listening to Roland’s advice and moving back with him, so my house is your Mom’s new house for the duration and you can use that my little rental cottage next door, as yours under the same terms. Your momma needs a place of her own to rule; David, you be kind to her you hear?” he said trying to convey some older wisdom to me.

“I am speechless, Bernie, you’re very kind.” I said before he got his old man hat back on.

“I have had a lot of water under my bridge David. You’re Chief of a new tribe, ‘shun the guns and make you a friend’ is the best advice I can give you. Don’t take other peoples stuff, just because you can; I know you won’t now, but you might get more desperate latter on. Stay a good man, my friend.” he said, while grabbing both my hands in his and giving me a firm squeeze. “There has been a considerable lot of bloodshed on these shores, since when you left last time. Don’t let yourself carry it in your pockets for life.” Bernie advised sagely.

* * *

END OF BOOK TWO OF THE PREPPER TRILOGY

THE LIGHT IN THE LAKE

The Survival Retreat

The rain had been coming down off and on for three days now and pretty much everyone was getting on each others nerves from being stuck inside with not much to do. The lake was a nice place to vacation but we were not on vacation, instead we were basically using four small cabins for our survival retreat and going stir crazy. We had been holed up here for a week and the first few days had gone by quickly as we settled in after bugging out to our new home.

No power, no phones and no running water. Very little reading material and food needed to be rationed and carefully allocated to insure our survival. Security grows lax in this type of weather because your thinking nobody would be out in this crap. That is bad thinking as the Army found out in the Vietnam War. Soldiers used to call rainy days like these “Charlie’s” weather because the Viet Cong liked to stage their sneak attacks in it. The rain covers noises and reduces visibility as well as causes people to seek shelter and not be so vigilant.

We had not had any security issues ourselves yet, but we had heard quite a bit of yelling and occasional gunfire echoing across the lake so I kept reminding everyone to be aware of their surroundings and my constant reminders grated on everyone’s nerves.

They were outside their comfort zone and in possible denial and just did not want to hear about it so I lightened up. They don’t really know what to do because they had no law enforcement or military training so they became defensive when they realized they did not know how to protect each other or the supplies.

Supplies without security equals failure, simple as that. Threats that could directly affect our security were the same as could occur in any natural or manmade disaster that creates social chaos and the crime that goes along with it. Lawlessness can occur and does occur, just look at the LA riots where the shop keepers who got ready to protect their own fared better than those stores that burned to the ground because the owners lacked a plan to protect what was theirs.

Lake porch decks face the scenic lake, the front of the cabins just face a short tree lined gravel road and is pretty boring to just keep looking at nothing when you have other options. But if we were threatened by anything I thought it is coming down that road. A lot of boats still work I imagine after the solar storm EMP only probably fried some batteries, but I hadn’t heard any, of course the lake had sail boats a plenty, we had one, but I couldn’t see anyone playing Lake Pirate yet.

I had better rethink that thought; I was organizing everyone in our compound to go scavenging the empty houses around us and try to figure out just how many people were still living around us. Enough time has passed since the EMP event that a lot of people would be desperate for food now and consider any unclaimed resources worthy of fighting over and probably consider us a raiding party.

The way these little roads wound about connecting to the small main road and the lakes shoreline going every which way, some one could walk up on you before you even knew it. Following the shore line was pretty much the easiest way to move about too from house to house.

We practiced some light discipline but not so much that someone didn’t know this point was occupied. We didn’t want somebody that was scavenging targeting our area thinking it was unoccupied.