Survival Rules Series (Book 1): Rules of Survival

by Hunt, Jack

  He thought one of them might know. No one did.

  Gabriel scowled. “Whitefish. That’s the closest town? How far away is it?”

  “About an hour southwest of here. There are small villages along Highway 2 but that’s where we’re from.”

  “Villages?”

  The old guy squinted. “Where are you all from?”

  Torres leaned over him and replied with a smirk on his face. “Hell.”

  The smile left the man. His wife was tending to his wound with a cloth. There was a nasty gash on his head where Torres had struck him across the forehead.

  “These villages…” Gabriel continued prompting him to answer.

  The old man shook his head before rattling them off. “Apgar at the tip of the lake, West Glacier, Martin City, Columbia Falls and then Whitefish is just northwest of that.”

  Gabriel nodded. “All right, old man, I guess we’ll follow your lead.”

  “What?” Torres said. “We’re not taking them with us.”

  “You know the area, Torres?” He waited for a response but got none. “You want to spend a few days hiking through the outback? No? Neither do I.”

  “But his vehicle isn’t working, Gabriel,” Marcus said adding in his two cents. “And look at them. If they could have walked out of here, they would have done it by now. Besides, I’m guessing he’s saying it’s an hour by car.”

  The old guy nodded.

  “It could take upwards of half a day to reach it by foot,” Marcus said. “And the cops will be out looking for us.”

  “Not if vehicles aren’t working,” he said. Suddenly a sense of peace came over him. Maybe the situation could work in their favor. With no communications operating, and no vehicles — had that ranger even managed to call for backup? Did anyone else know they were there besides prison officials? Other than those who tracked planes, who even knew where that plane had gone down? And if their plane went down, how many others did at the same time? The plane was now at the bottom of the lake. Hidden. Out of view. Would anyone be looking for them? A smile broadened on his face.

  Corey met Terry Murdoch at the rendezvous point in the heart of Whitefish. Prior to the line going dead they’d arranged to meet at the crossroads, where Spokane Avenue met Second Street just in front of the Firebrand Hotel. With so many vehicles not in operation he didn’t imagine anyone would show up but he was wrong. As he swerved the army utility vehicle to the side of the road, he saw that Terry was there with two of the twenty-five that would often head out. Depending on the situation, there could be more but under the circumstances he was surprised it hadn’t been cancelled being as the rescue team was mostly made up of volunteers. Noah and Vern both lived in the downtown so walking to the rendezvous point hadn’t been a problem but the others were further afield. The utility truck kicked out a plume of gray smoke as he turned off the engine and hopped out.

  Terry approached, arm extended. Corey shook it. “Glad you could come. We’re still trying to decide whether or not it’s worth driving out there. You’re the only one with a working vehicle. I managed to contact Matt, Kevin, Jules, Gina and Darren, and a few others before the power went out. We’ve been here for over twenty minutes and no one has showed except you, Noah and Vern. Vern thinks we should stay here to help the town.”

  “And you?” Corey asked.

  “There are enough capable people in town to take care of trouble. I want to head out. Who knows how many are injured?”

  Corey nodded. He gestured to his truck. “I brought some supplies from my old man’s shop.”

  “Good,” Terry replied, then walked over and took a look.

  The street was dark except for several flashlights being held by those who were out. No lamppost lights were on. A number of folks were chatting among themselves trying to figure out what was happening. It was to be expected. Corey knew the signs of an EMP. He wasn’t trying to be argumentative with his father but if he’d agreed with him, he would have been heading for the cabin instead of trying to help folks. “We might want to get going before the cops confiscate this vehicle,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Terry asked.

  “Look around you, Terry. You see any other vehicles in operation?”

  “Actually, I saw Dave Michaels out in his banged-up old truck on the way in.”

  Corey hopped up into the driver’s seat. “New vehicles, Terry.”

  He frowned. “Well, no.”

  “And you won’t. At least not for a while. Jump in, I’ll explain on the way.”

  The group squeezed into the cab of the truck, and they rolled out heading towards Highway 2. Those on the street looked on, a couple tried to flag them down but Corey acted as if he hadn’t seen them and kept accelerating. The sooner they were out the better. He could have stayed but he knew it would only be a matter of time before the local Whitefish Police Department would be looking to detain any vehicles that were operating. He had no problem with them using his once they got back but for now, they needed it. The radio in the front of his truck crackled. “Come in, Corey.”

  It was his dad. He picked it up and pressed the button. “Go ahead.”

  “You took the utility,” his father said.

  “And you took mine.”

  “Where are you now?” he asked.

  “Heading towards McDonald Lake.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I told you where I would take it.”

  “You’re wasting gas and valuable time. Turn around and head back.”

  “Once we have checked on the downed plane.”

  “No. Now.”

  “I’m not fifteen anymore, Dad,” he said before he turned off the radio. Terry looked at him. He was all too familiar with Andy Ford. There wasn’t anyone in town who didn’t know him. With a population of only 7,000, word got around. When he wasn’t dishing out advice from behind the counter at his store, he was running survival workshops twice a month and his flyers advertising the events were seen flapping in the breeze on telephone poles. Beyond that he was often found arguing with residents. Corey couldn’t keep track of the number of times over the past year he’d been called out to give him a ride home or break up a fight. His father was brash and unruly, and had earned a bad reputation in town. Because he had a background in the military, a number of the sixteen cops who worked for the department would call Corey instead of arresting Andy. It was easier that way. Less paperwork. The warning was always the same.

  “So?” Terry asked as he lit a cigarette. “He’s riled up about this, isn’t he?”

  “Yep,” Corey replied. “He thinks it’s an EMP.”

  There was a long pause before Terry replied. “And you?”

  “Had you asked me that before I went away to the military, I would have given you the same answer but…” he trailed off.

  “You don’t believe him?”

  “No, I’m not naive. Vehicles don’t stop by themselves in a power outage but uh…”

  “You don’t want to be pegged as paranoid like him.”

  Corey glanced at him. “Crazy, huh?”

  Terry laughed and blew out smoke from the corner of his mouth as Corey brought his window down. “No. I get it. You might be his son, Corey, but you’re not Andy Ford, neither is your brother. Which reminds me. You heard from him?”

  “Not for a long while.”

  Terry nodded looking out as they drove east in silence. The road was deserted and dark, nothing but ranches, forest and mountains on either side of them as they drove northeast up into the Haskill Basin and around to West Glacier. He was interested to see how some of the other villages and towns in the area had fared. Even though he was convinced that some kind of EMP had occurred, he was hesitant to jump on his father’s bandwagon. Since returning from the military he’d tried to rebuild a different kind of relationship with his father, one that didn’t revolve around survival workshops and prepper talk. It was as if his dad didn’t know anything else but that. Nothing else seemed to
be important. It almost reminded him of some of the religious folks he’d met in town who spent all their time trying to reach people with the gospel. He wasn’t against either but there was a big difference between being mindful and fanatical. Besides, his father’s incessant need to pump them with information and the necessary skills for surviving had come at a great cost, but he couldn’t see it. It had pushed his family away, driven Tyler to Las Vegas, and Corey off to the military. Any attempt at trying to have that conversation with him was shot down. It was never his father’s fault. He couldn’t see the forest for the trees. In his eyes, caring meant imparting valuable skills for life, forget spending time playing ball, teaching your kid to ride a bike or hanging out together at the local movie theater — that was wasting time in his eyes. Unless it had some correlation to survival it was considered a waste of time.

  Corey gripped the wheel and curved around the roads, every bounce a reminder of the many times his father had brought them up this way as kids. Most who visited Glacier National Park, which was located to the east of Whitefish, with Kootenai National Forest off to the west, probably conjured memories of hiking, backpacking, cycling and camping. Not so for the Ford family. It was a place to push the limits, to experience isolation, hunger, thirst and pure fear. Corey knew his father was extreme. Not all preppers were like Andy, even though Corey assumed they were until he got older and met more of them.

  A flashback of rowing into the middle of a logging lake under the premise they were going fishing stuck out in his mind. Somehow, he honestly believed his father wanted to spend a lazy summer day fishing with his sons. But it was all just a ruse. When they reached the middle of the lake, Andy handed over scuba BCD jackets and filled the weight-integrated pockets with enough weight to make them drop like a stone. Next, he instructed them to get out of the boat. Tyler was petrified, already nervous about water from a previous incident where he’d nearly drowned.

  “Dad. Why?”

  “Biological warfare. You need to be able to hold your breath longer than others.”

  “But we have masks for that.”

  “Yeah, you do. But they only benefit you if you can get to them in time, which means holding your breath.” He reached around and tossed two masks overboard. “Go get them. Don’t come up until you find them.”

  Corey was fourteen at the time, Tyler twelve. “Are you serious?”

  “Boy, do I look like I’m joking?”

  He was out of his damn mind but he didn’t see it that way. No, somewhere in his brain, it all made sense. Corey had tried to convince him to just let him go and leave Tyler onboard but he wouldn’t have it.

  “You think you can hold your breath for the two of you? Don’t be stupid. Get over there.”

  Corey rolled over the side. He kept a firm grip on the boat, waiting for Tyler, but he straight out refused, gripping the boat tightly and shaking his head. That’s when their father took matters into his own hands and picked Tyler up and hurled him over the side. There was no questioning him. No trying to reason. Both of them sank to the bottom with little effort. How Corey managed to spot both of the masks before they ran out of air was a miracle but he made sure Tyler had his before they breached the surface, otherwise, he knew their father would have made Tyler go down again. That was just his way.

  That wasn’t the only time he did that. There were many days that followed and each time he made it more difficult, pushing the envelope on how long they had to stay beneath the water. Did they learn? Yes. But not what he thought they had. They learned to hate. Every day, every experience, deepened their hatred for their father. Tyler took it harder than him, bottling up his rage until he was of an age where he could leave home.

  Corey had left a few years before that, seeking freedom in what others considered a rigid way of life. To him it was nothing. Mentally and physically he was already prepared for the Marines.

  “Corey,” Terry said snapping his fingers in front of his face. And just like that he was back in the present moment, the memory fading to the back of his mind. “Heads up,” he said pointing to a police blockade near the small village of West Glacier.

  11

  Las Vegas Boulevard was like a graveyard of stalled vehicles. They witnessed several fights breaking out but that was to be expected with so many people scared, frustrated and unsure of what was taking place. Erika began coughing. Gray smoke from downed planes that had taken off from McCarran Airport and veered into the city swept through the streets, a toxic blend that was making it difficult to breathe. The air was thick. Tyler reached into his bag and pulled out a gas mask and handed it to her.

  “What the hell,” she said taking a step back. “You brought that to our date?”

  “Put it on, there’s no telling what is in this smoke.” He coughed, reached into his bag and pulled out a half face respirator to cover his face.

  “I’m not putting that on.”

  “I will,” Nate said holding out his hand. Tyler glanced at him but kept offering it to her. She looked at his bag and before he could tighten his grip, she snatched it out of his hand and began rooting through it.

  “What the hell have you got in here?” Erika expected to find some kind of weird rape kit, or something but the rest of it was relatively normal, if normal meant carrying a medical kit, flashlight, headlamp, two-way radio, smart charger cable, a knife, hand sanitizer, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, wipes, campers toilet paper, LifeStraw Go water bottle, a 2-liter hydration bladder, four snack bars, what look liked a small portable cook set and… when she pulled that out, Nate started laughing.

  “Shit, you’ve got Mary Poppins’ bag. What else is in there?”

  Tyler stood there as Erika pulled one item after another out onto the sidewalk. Socks, pants, shirt, underwear in a compression sack, sunglasses, a magnifying glass, a nylon poncho, a high visibility reflective vest, light sticks, emergency food bar, a flare, a solar charger battery, a tarp for shelter, a micro whistle, a mirror, a thermal blanket, a survival novel, playing cards, a compass, paracord, pandemic kit, LED light, an emergency Bivy for sleeping in, a map of the local area, steel fire starter flint, waterproof lighter, gloves and several other items she wasn’t sure what they were. But it wasn’t that which freaked her out the most, or even the knife that had given her cause for concern, it was what was at the bottom. She pulled it out slowly, holding it by the grip. As soon as Nate caught sight of it his eyes widened. “Holy shit. You’re packing a piece.”

  “Alright, that’s enough,” Tyler said taking it from her and shoving everything back in. He crouched on the sidewalk as Erika looked at him. “It’s legal in the state of Nevada to open carry or have a concealed weapon.”

  “I know it is. But do you always carry that bag with you everywhere…” she shifted her body with some attitude, “… or only on dates?”

  “It’s…” he trailed off pushing items into the bottom, trying to find the words to explain.

  She didn’t know what to make of it but in all her time dating people, she had never seen anyone carrying what amounted to camping or survival gear. If that was what it even was? “Are you living on the streets?” she asked.

  “No. I have an apartment just like you. Well not as upscale as Lyons but…”

  She turned and began walking away, quickly.

  He put a hand out. “Hold up, Erika. You don’t understand.”

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “There’s a very good reason why I have this.”

  “I’m sure there is.” She threw a hand up but didn’t look back. “I’d like to say it’s been a great night but I’d be lying. Take care.”

  “Wait up.”

  She turned to see both of them jogging after her. That’s when she decided to slip out of her heels and break into a run. She didn’t even pick them up. All she could think about was getting as far away from both of them as possible, more so Tyler. What a freaking weirdo carrying a backpack with a knife and gun. Vegas was full of freaks, and potent
ial serial killers. Maybe he was one of them? What would have happened if the date had gone well? She could have ended up dead and buried in the desert. Amid the smoke she could see the hotel, a fifteen-story red and brown monstrosity that stood out from its competitors. Before she managed to make it to the entrance, Tyler grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Just wait a goddamn minute and give me a chance to explain.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t. Really. If you want to carry a knife and gun, and all that shit… that’s your prerogative. I just want to go home,” she said. Tears began to well up in her eyes. The stress of the night had taken its toll and she just wanted to get inside, and close the door on the chaos of the city. “Please. Just let me go home.”

  Nate placed a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. Tyler nodded and released his grip.

  Before he could change his mind, Erika walked away, then broke into a jog heading into the building. Inside it was a noisy circus. Lights were on in the lobby powered by a portable generator that was humming. It was strange as she knew the hotel had a permanent backup generator in the basement. All their hotels did. But for some reason it wasn’t working. Guests had filled the lobby and were crowding around the front desk, voicing their complaints. Were they utterly oblivious to what was taking place outside? Luanne, the hotel concierge, spotted Erika and raised a finger. Oh God, Erika thought as she tried to make a beeline for the stairwell. The last thing she wanted to do was crowd control. However, two words caught the attention of the angry group. “Ms. Lyons!” Erika caught her reflection in the gold metal of the door she was about to go through. Her hair was a mess, her face blackened by smoke, and she had no shoes on. She was in no state, physically or mentally, to deal with anyone. Under any other conditions she might have turned, smiled and done what she was best at but that was then, this was now.

  She darted into the stairwell and took the stairs two steps at a time. It was going to kill her legs to reach the penthouse suite but what other choice did she have? Even if by some miracle they’d managed to get the elevator to work she couldn’t stand there waiting for it or risk getting trapped inside.