Oz also needed to find Naomi and Cheyanne backpacks as well as a bow and arrows for Cheyanne. The sooner the better. They agreed that it would be best to approach a farmhouse and avoid the town. So far, the group avoided any type of confrontation and that’s the way they hoped it would remain.
Naomi returned to Oz and Cheyanne after a scouting mission and told them about a farmhouse two miles from their present location. Naomi explained that it was a family of six, and even though they were armed, she felt they would be approachable.
After slightly more discussion, and against Oz’s wishes, they decided it would be Naomi who would approach the family. Once safe she would signal to Oz and Cheyanne to come out of hiding.
The trio hid on the outskirts of the farmhouse and before Naomi left, she whispered in Oz’s ear, “Set up a sniper position. I’m sure everything will be fine but if it’s not, do everything you can to get me out of there. I will not leave Cheyanne alone.”
Oz motioned for Cheyanne to take cover as he moved to a position that provided a clear view of the farmhouse yet allowed him to be hidden. Naomi slowly turned and headed toward the farm. She exited the tree line and began walking slowly down the driveway with her hands in the air. It didn’t take long for a young boy, who looked to be about seven years old, yell in a horrific scream. Moments later, two men exited the house with shotguns aimed at Naomi.
“Don’t shoot. I’m not armed!” Naomi shouted.
“Get off of our property now!” one of the young men yelled.
“Can I talk to your father first? Please?” Naomi responded.
“How do you know we have a father?” the young man asked and continued. “Have you been spying on us?”
Now scared, Naomi responded, “No. I have not been spying on you. You look too young to be a father, no offense, so I assumed your father might be here.”
Oz watched in disbelief as he saw what appeared to be a man sneaking up on Naomi and, before she could react, placed the barrel of a shotgun to the back of her head.
“Hands up or you’ll meet my friend, double ought buckshot,” a voice said.
Naomi quickly placed both hands in the air and in a low voice said, “Please don’t shot. I’m only looking for food. I don’t have much but I can trade with you.”
Without hesitating, the voice said, “Move forward to the house. You move your hands one bit and you’re dead.”
Naomi did as requested and was soon standing on the front porch of the house. “Tiny, search her,” the voice commanded.
A tall, out of shape man approached her and began patting her down. He was bald and looked like he had patches of facial hair as if he was desperately trying to grow a beard. The man placed his hands on Naomi’s head and checked her hair before sliding his hands down to her side.
He slowly rolled his hands around to her front chest area when Naomi gave a sharp look and said, “Careful, my friend. There’s always pain in things that give you pleasure. These are not for your pleasure.”
The man gave a quick snort and then continued to pat her legs intentionally avoiding her inner thighs.
“All good?” Naomi snapped.
The man shook his head up and down. Naomi slowly turned and was now able to see the face that belonged to the voice who held the gun to her back. It was a young woman, most likely in her early twenties. She had long dark hair and green eyes. Her face was weathered but it appeared as if she was in pretty good physical condition.
“Now, I’ll ask you one more time. What are you doing on our property?” the woman demanded before she was interrupted by a man exiting the front porch door.
“Misty, don’t treat our guest that way,” he said as he admonished her. “My name is Wallace and as you heard that’s my daughter, Misty. That’s my son Tiny and the other man is my son Burt. Now that you know who we are, who are you and how can we help?”
“My name is Naomi and I only want to trade with you. I have a long walk ahead of me and need food. I don’t have much to trade but anything you could do would be appreciated.”
“Lady, we don’t need nothing. We’ve been living off the land for five generations.”
Naomi questioned the man, “But the power went out. Did you notice that? My friend thinks it will never come back on.”
Wallace responded, “Ma’am, we don’t have electricity. Never have. Life for us will continue on just as it has my whole life. We live off the land and because we respect it, it produces and provides for all our needs.”
“Sir, p-please” Naomi stuttered. “Please, I need food.”
Wallace put his hand on Naomi’s shoulder, looked her square in the eyes and said, “You mean ‘we’ need food, don’t you?”
Naomi looked confused when she saw Cheyanne and Oz walking down the drive only to be followed by another man with a shotgun to their backs.
“That’s my son, Christian,” Wallace said with a smile and very methodically continued. “We’ve, my family to be specific, have been hunting these parts for almost a century. You develop an instinct when something’s not right and we knew something was not right.”
As Oz and Cheyanne approached, Naomi felt despair and for the second time in as many days felt hopeless. The thought of seeing her daughter hurt or even killed was the only thing she thought of.
“Don’t fret, young lady,” Wallace said.
“You and your husband and daughter can spend the night in the barn and we’ll feed you. One meal, one night. Then you’re gone. Do you understand?” he finished.
Naomi, Cheyanne, and Oz were confused by his words but shook their head at the same time acknowledging his statement. Christian quickly patted down Cheyanne and Oz and placed their gear on the ground for his father to see.
Without looking at the gear, Wallace said, “You’ll get your gear back in the morning. For now, it’s time to eat,” and motioned for them to enter the house.
Over the next four hours, Wallace shared his family story with the guest and gave them useful information about living off the land during their travels. He gave them quick lessons on plant identification, how to quickly determine what direction they were heading, tips on how to better use the land to camouflage themselves, snare traps, and how to set up perimeter alarms using only what they could find using Mother Nature.
As Oz woke up the next morning, he was greeted by Wallace who said, “It’s time you hit the road. I’ve packed a few items for you that might help.”
Oz thanked Wallace and with one eye still shut, investigated the bag. There was what appeared to be a package of some type of jerky, dehydrated vegetables, several fresh vegetables, a quart jar that looked like it contained a stew, and a clear pint size mason jar with a clear liquid in it.
“You wouldn’t by chance have a couple of backpacks or bow and arrows that I could trade you for?” Oz asked Wallace.
Wallace rubbed his chin for a second before saying, “As ironic as this is going to sound, I’ll tell you we make our own bows but buy the arrows. I believe we have a longbow I can give you. No need to trade. As I said before, we have everything we need here.”
Wallace turned and disappeared into the house. Several minutes later, Oz woke Naomi and Cheyanne up.
Wallace reappeared with a longbow in one hand and a quiver with six arrows in another.
“Who is this for?” Wallace asked.
With sleepy eyes, Cheyanne excitedly said, “For me, sir? At least I think it is.”
Oz shook his head up and down and, with great pride, Wallace handed her the bow and arrows.
“The bow is handmade from the earth and will serve you well, young lady. Misty made it.” Wallace said before turning to Oz. “At the junction of Highway 92 and Cowan Road, about twenty miles northwest of here is a small outdoor shop called Ed Needles Pawn Shop. Ask for, who else then, Ed. Ed is my cousin. Tell them I sent you and you should be abl
e to trade for some of those other things you asked me for.”
“How can we ever repay you?“ Oz asked Wallace.
“Survive. That’s how you repay me; by surviving. And be open-minded that there are still good people in this world,” Wallace said as he turned to walk back in the house. With one last piece of advice, Wallace stopped and told the group, “By the way, Ed loves moonshine.”
The group dressed, packed, and waved a final farewell to Wallace and his family before hitting the road.
“How are you doing, Naomi,” Oz asked as they walked.
“Numb. Still numb. It hasn’t hit me yet. I lost my husband and yesterday someone pointed a loaded shotgun at me,” she responded as she brushed her hands through her hair before continuing. “Oz, I can’t cry. I can’t cry for my husband or even what happened to me. It’s like my body shut down. No emotions. I feel nothing.”
“It’s for the better, Naomi. Who knows what we’ll encounter as we move north. I need you focused. We need our bodies to stay alert and ready to act. It’s the only way we’ll be safe. Once we get to my house, there will be time to rest. Time to properly say goodbye. Time to digest what happened,” Oz said as his eyes moved from Naomi to the ground.
“It should take us no more than fourteen hours to walk to Atlanta but hopefully we can get you and Cheyanne a Bug Out Bag and pick up a few more supplies at Ed’s,” Oz said.
36
Protecting One
EVERY DAY, IN THE EARLY MORNING, NICKI WOULD SNEAK OUT and put a day’s worth of water and food rations on Frank’s porch. She wanted to make sure Buzz had food and even provided enough for Frank. She was getting pretty good at knowing Buzz’s habits and around 10:00 a.m. she would hide in the tree line watching to make sure she saw Buzz open the back porch sliding glass door and get the food and water.
Her hope was to get a glance of Buzz and do a quick visual check, to the best of her ability, to make sure he was physically healthy and not injured. It pained Nicki to know that Buzz was the only caregiver Frank had. She couldn’t imagine what Buzz was going through but she would not put her life or that of her family in danger to help a man who would kill given the chance.
Frank looked at his two wounds. They were getting worse and he was now bedridden. The areas surrounding the wounds were green and cloudy in color and swollen. There was a rotting smell emanating from his leg. He had a fever of 101 degrees F and the area near the wound was hot to the touch.
Overall, he was feeling malaise and tired; he just wanted to sleep. As each day went by, he experienced more and more pain and was losing functionality in his left leg. Frank knew that he had made a mistake. He let his ravenousness behavior get the best of him and now it would cost him his life, but he had no regrets. His last words were, “That bitch. She’ll get hers,” and he went to sleep never to wake up again.
NICKI WAS ON guard duty when she saw Buzz walking down the drive. She wanted to check on him but knew the rule: always go in pairs of two and stay in constant communication.
She grabbed Randall and told him to gear up. Once geared up, Randall went out the back door and cautiously headed into the tree line. Nicki gave him a three-minute head start.
Lloyd took a position at the front door and scanned the property with his binoculars. “Looks clear,” Lloyd said.
Nicki went out the front door and began walking down the drive constantly scanning her environment.
As she approached Buzz, she said, “Hi, Buzz. How are you doing?”
He began to cry and said, “Nicki, my dad’s not moving. I can’t wake him up.”
Through her radio headset she called Lloyd and said “Lloyd, I’m sending Buzz in with you. Have Connie clean him up and make sure he gets fed.”
“10-4,” she heard over the radio.
“Randall and I are headed over to Frank’s house. We need to know his status if you understand what I’m saying?” Nicki said.
“10-4,” Lloyd responded.
Without having to say a word, she saw Randall stepping over several tripwires headed in the direction of Frank’s house. Nicki and Randall walked parallel to one another; separated by thirty feet.
Once at the porch, Nicki whispered to Randall, “Keep your guard up. Make sure you never point your gun at me. Watch the corners and dark rooms. We’ll go slow. Be as quiet as you can.”
Nicki and Oz trained yearly at Front Sight in Pahrump, Nevada. They trained every fall with handguns and in the spring would rotate shotgun and rifle training. Part of the training was house clearing and hostage scenarios. Though it wasn’t much experience, it was at least some. Nicki’s concern was Randall. He had no formal weapons or tactical training whatsoever. His only training had been the last week when the world went to hell.
Nicki slowly opened the sliding glass door and entered the house. Randall was right behind her with his handgun pointed down the hallway. Nicki walked slowly around the corner clearing the living room. She gave Randall a thumbs-up sign. Nicki walked in front of Randall and slowly cleared the remaining two bedrooms before finding Frank’s room. With her gun trained on Frank, she slowly reached for his wrist, checked his pulse, and confirmed he was dead.
“Randall,” Nicki said. “Check the rest of the house for anything we can use. I assume he has no guns. If he did he would have tried to kill us.”
Not finding anything useful, they walked back home. When Nicki saw Buzz, she gave him a big hug and began to cry.
37
The Trade
WALKING AT A GOOD PACE, OZ, NAOMI, AND CHEYANNE ARRIVED at the crossroads of Highway 92 and Cowan Road. The trio used a brick wall for cover but their position also gave them visibility to the store. Oz could see a sign that was barely legible but had the words ‘Ed Needles Pawn Shop’ in faint blue paint. The building itself was rundown and it appeared that the small porch on the front of the building was leaning to one side. Stacked bricks were placed at the front of the porch and served as stairs up to the main entrance.
The three agreed that Oz would approach the pawn shop while Naomi and Cheyanne stayed behind the brick wall serving as lookouts and backups if Oz ended up in trouble.
With his Bug Out Bag strapped to his back, Oz scanned the area for any movement. Once satisfied that it was safe, he walked across the street and knocked on the pawn shop door. No answer. He went to peer through the window only to find the view had been blocked by windows replaced with wood. As much as he hated to, he knew he had to walk around, behind the building, in hopes of finding Ed. He signaled to Naomi and Cheyanne that he was walking behind the building and to stay where they were.
Oz slowly rounded the corner of the building and saw a small rundown house. At first glance, he thought it was empty but upon further inspection, he saw signs that someone had recently been there. He quickly scanned his surroundings again and then proceeded slowly to what was possibly the front door. He was now within ten feet of the door when he heard a loud snap followed by a searing pain in his left foot. He looked down only to discover he had stepped in a coil spring trap that had tripped and wrapped around his ankle. He held his breath and contained his screams. He was in pain but the last thing he wanted was to attract unwanted attention. He sat down and with all his strength tried to draw the two heavy jaws apart. He knew he had to get out of the trap and back to the girls as quickly as he could but was unable to free himself.
As he tried a second time to free himself he heard a woman’s voice say, “Need some help?”
He quickly turned around to see a woman dressed in camouflage clothing holding a double-barreled shotgun in one hand and a small pry bar in the other.
“Please,” Oz said to the woman.
“I was just kidding. You’re trespassing on my property and you expect me to help you?”
“I’m sorry,” Oz said. “We were looking for Ed Needles.”
“You’ll have to do better than that. Yo
u were going to break in and steal my stuff. Maybe you were going to kill me, too. Weren’t you?” she said.
“No, ma’am,” Oz continued. “I was told by Wallace to ask for Ed. He said Ed might have a few things we need that we could trade for,” Oz said.
The woman looked puzzled and asked, “How do you know Wallace?”
“We spent the night in his barn last night. We stumbled upon his house on our journey northward,” Oz answered.
“Stay still,” the woman said as she took the pry bar and freed Oz from the trap.
Oz rubbed his ankle and though it hurt he didn’t feel any broken bones.
“Can you stand?” the woman said and reached for Oz’s hand.
Oz grabbed her hand and stood with the balance of his weight on his right leg.
“Looks like you’ll be hobbling around for a while,” she laughed.
Oz shot her a searing look and did his best to keep his balance.
“Now, what stuff are you looking for and what do you have to trade? By the way, my name is Ed,” she said.
“I should have known,” Oz said and continued. “We need a couple of small backpacks, knives, first aid supplies, a couple sets of clothes. And as to what I have to trade, I have silver, a few 9mm bullets, one Glock magazine, and a pint of moonshine.”
“The only thing worth value is the moonshine but I’m sure I can think of other things,” Ed said as she pointed to the back entrance.
Oz hobbled into the back entrance of the shop and found it to be disorganized, dirty, but appeared to have what they needed. Ed stepped away from Oz and several minutes later returned with two small backpacks.
“Will these do?” she asked.
“Perfect,” said Oz.
As Oz walked around, he picked up several packages of strike-anywhere matches, two basic first aid kits, several t-shirts which he found on a discounted rack, 100 feet of 550 paracord, two emergency blankets, some fishing line, hooks, weights, and bobbers, some hand sanitizer, several boxes of feminine products, four candles, a small bottle of bleach, a jar of Vaseline, and a bag of cotton balls. He placed the items on a counter and took out a Glock magazine with seventeen rounds, a pint of moonshine, and five dollars in pre-1964 silver coins.
The E.M.P. Chronicles (Book 1): 458 Miles & 24 Days Page 17
