Survivalist Reality Show: The Complete Series

by Grace Hamilton

  1

  The calm aqua blue waters on this side of the island were mesmerizing. It was strange, surreal even, for Regan to find herself living in what looked to be an island paradise. If only it was paradise. It could have been, of course, if the world beyond the beach hadn’t been in turmoil.

  “Makes it look like there’s not a problem to be thought of, doesn’t it?” she asked Tabitha.

  “Ha. Not if you ask Geno—the way that man talks about missing the city! Don’t get me wrong, I’d love some air conditioning, but I’d rather be here on Wolf’s little island than there, the world the way it is now.”

  Nodding absently, Regan stared north as she strained to see the beach on a nearby island. All she could see were bald cypress trees mingled with palms stretching for the sky. Intermingled with the tall trees were slash pines, a variety of smaller brush plants that climbed between the tall trunks and covered the area with dense foliage. Her favorites, though, were the gumbo-limbo trees that grew sporadically on all of the islands. From what she could see of them, anyway.

  “Have you thought about exploring the other islands around here?” she asked.

  “Not really. You?”

  “Some,” Regan admitted. That was something Regan had never known before showing up here to Wolf Henderson’s secret island fortress. There were hundreds, no, thousands of little islands out here. Off to the north, she could see numerous tiny dots of land, each one indicating another island. They ranged in size from nothing more than a couple of acres to much larger.

  Wolf couldn’t tell her for sure whether the other islands had inhabitants, but she suspected they did. He’d said a lot of them had been made into state parks, and it made sense that there would have been people camping out when the EMP hit, and all of them would ultimately have been stranded. She supposed they might have left, but imagined the smarter ones would have stayed put. If the world as a person knew it was falling apart, her instinct would be to get as far away as possible from city centers; to seek refuge far away from others. An island seemed like a safe bet, which was exactly why Wolf had bought his own island and slowly transformed it into his own doomsday bunker of sorts.

  On walks just like this one, she had traveled the full perimeter of the island several times. Wolf had told her it was in the shape of a comma. The tiny end pointing east, toward the mainland, about fifteen miles south of Naples. The house was built in the center of the round part, with the south- and west-facing beaches opening into the ocean. That was where there was a small boat dock, out of view from anyone who could be fishing off the beach of the mainland.

  Pausing now, Regan stared at the inviting water, wanting to dive in to seek relief from the sweltering Florida heat. Even this early in the morning, it was already unpleasant—despite the lovely breeze blowing off the water. The sun had only just gotten to be full in the sky, but it was uncomfortably hot.

  “That’s something else I can’t get used to,” Regan commented absently. “I never thought about the gulf waters being so calm.”

  Tabitha reached down and picked up a stick that had washed up onto the beach, and banged some of the sand from her shoes. “Yeah? That was why I always wanted to come to the gulf, knowing the waves wouldn’t be so scary as those you see in the movies,” she answered, gesturing out at the lake-like stillness beyond the beach.

  As per usual, the water offered none of the large waves that would have been seen on the other coast.

  Tempting as a dip was, though, both women knew this wasn’t the time. Regan nodded at the path leading back to Wolf’s and Tabitha clapped her on the back as if reading her thoughts and giving her a push away from the water. Wolf was holding yet another meeting back at the house in what had become their morning ritual. Apparently, much to Regan’s displeasure, they had arrived on the island just in time for the kick-off to hurricane season. Another black mark against the island paradise that wasn’t quite so idyllic.

  Regan took a second to wipe at the sweat dripping into her eyes. She’d become accustomed to using the hem of her shirt to wipe her brow. It wasn’t the cleanest, but it worked. Her hand brushed across the butt of the Glock 19 she had in a small holster attached to the belt she was wearing. It was strange to be carrying a gun in paradise, but Wolf insisted. One of them was always carrying when they left the house, even though they were on a deserted island. Actually, every one of them carried a gun whenever they moved around the island. After all the trouble they had in the city, she knew why he insisted and tried not to protest overly much—even if she hated the extra weight.

  The two women began heading back through the trees, focusing on weaving through the variety of bushes, some with thorns and vines, and heading on up to the house Wolf had built with this very situation in mind.

  Following Tabitha into the living room, she pushed one of the windows open wider to let in as much breeze as possible and then took a seat beside her friend, realizing they were a few minutes late. It was a little tough to tell time without an actual working watch, and time passed easily on the walks she and Tabitha had gotten in the habit of taking together as they patrolled the island. The woman knew how to enjoy companionable silence—not a surprise, Regan supposed, given how much her husband talked.

  Still, it was hard to tell time, and she didn’t know how Wolf expected them to keep to any sort of schedule. It was all about just knowing, which she really sucked at. Time’s a work in progress, like so much else about this post-EMP world, she silently mused.

  “Glad to see you made it back,” Wolf quipped as he slid a piece of notebook paper into her hand.

  She smiled and shrugged a shoulder in apology before turning her attention to the checklist Wolf had handed her. He’d copied out notes about hurricane preparation for each of them, it appeared, and then listed particular things needing attention at the bottom. There were even page references, gesturing back to the big binder of information Wolf used as a reference and had told them all to make use of. In fact, the heavy three-ring, four-inch-wide binder he had shown them was genius. He had checklists for preparing for hurricanes, power outages, flooding, tornadoes, and even an earthquake, which she wasn’t even sure was a possibility on the small island. However, in this day and age, she wouldn’t have been surprised by much of anything.

  The binder itself was neatly organized with colored tabs separating each disaster scenario. There were sections on what do in case of an emergency arising from one of Mother Nature’s temper tantrums along with a first aid manual. Regan had leafed through the resource during the first few days she had been on the island. It was a lot of information, which explained why he had felt the need to organize it all. She couldn’t imagine trying to remember every detail in the face of an emergency.

  “Does anyone have any questions?” Wolf asked, his hair blowing a little with the breeze coming through the large open window.

  Looking around her, Regan noticed that Fred was already at the side of the room, comparing something on his list to a page in the binder itself, while Lily and RC were chatting in a corner. The bulge of the large gun holstered at Fred’s side looked out of place on his lanky body. She didn’t know why, but seeing Fred with a gun on his hip was funny to her. She couldn’t imagine him in any quick draw situation. A little cartoon of him trying to pull the gun and it flying through the air with his awkwardness had her smiling.

  Her eyes moved to Lily. There was a rifle propped up in a corner, close enough for RC to grab, but Lily was the only one not carrying a firearm fulltime. Wolf had taught her to shoot, but he didn’t want his little girl carrying a gun with her. He had told Regan it stole her innocence. There was enough of them to protect her and if she absolutely had to, Lily could defend herself. Regan could understand his reasoning. Children should be allowed to be young and carefree for as long as possible. She’d been thrust into a dangerous world and it had nearly broken her. Lily’s innocence was a small fraction of what motivated Regan to keep the gun on her at all times. She never wanted Lily
to be in a position where she had to shoot another human. Not yet.

  Tabitha and Geno had their eyes on a shared copy of the list, Tabitha pointing out various line items and quietly whispering to her husband.

  Geno raised his hand. “Are we expecting a hurricane? How do you know it’s coming? It isn’t like we can watch the weather channel.”

  Wolf drew in a deep breath, his eyes shooting out to the clouds hovering above the tree line. “We feel the air. We look at the sky. I don’t know that a serious storm is coming tomorrow, and we won’t, which is why we are prepping now. We don’t want to get caught off-guard. Some big storms are bound to come, though.”

  “I told you all that we’re fairly insulated here. We don’t typically see the really strong hurricanes that slam into the east coast and islands in the open water. Florida itself buffers us. We generally get the tail end of a storm or some strong winds. However, that doesn’t mean we don’t always prepare for one, because stranger things have happened,” Wolf explained. “And, things being what they are now, we’re not going to get any warning. Any storm could be your average afternoon thunderstorm, or it could be a lot worse, and we won’t know the difference until we’re in the heat of it. We have to stay prepped at all times.”

  Regan looked over and watched as Lily busily doodled in one of her notebooks, not paying any real attention now that RC had turned to help Fred with something. Over the last few days, Regan had noticed that the girl had been quieter than usual. She assumed it was because the teen was bored and lonely. Regan imagined hanging out on an island with a bunch of adults wasn’t exactly a fun time for a twelve-year-old. It wasn’t exactly Regan’s idea of fun either, for that matter, but these were different times they were living in. Fun wasn’t a priority; surviving was.

  Regan moved over and whispered to Lily as Wolf began explaining storm season in southwest Florida to Geno yet again. “Lily, do you guys do this a lot? Go over everything as the season approaches?”

  Lily shrugged. “Not really. We all know what to do. This is for you guys.”

  Regan smiled. “I’ve never seen a hurricane.”

  “The wind blows. You don’t actually see a hurricane; you feel it,” Lily snapped.

  Regan forced herself to smile in response, as if she appreciated the information, but she didn’t push for more conversation. Things had been a little tense around the house lately. In Lily’s case, Regan knew it was typical adolescent angst amplified by the current status of the world. At least, that was the excuse she was giving the kid. Nevertheless, her snotty attitude was getting more and more difficult to deal with.

  “Is it always this humid?” Tabitha asked, the fine sheen of sweat over her brow giving her a dewy look.

  “Yes!” Wolf, RC, and Lily said in unison.

  The elder Henderson smiled. “You get used to it. You learn to relax in the heat of the day and save chores for the late evening hours after it’s stopped raining, or get them done early in the morning before it starts.”

  Regan looked out to the sky—sure enough, afternoon storm clouds were already gathering, despite the fact that it couldn’t be much past nine in the morning.

  Fred groaned. “It’s humid all the time, day and night. Why do people want to retire here?”

  Regan bit back a laugh. Fred, who was always so practical, seemed to be suffering the worst. It seemed strange given his lean build and what appeared to be zero body fat. Regan had always assumed skinny guys were cooler in general. She’d been proven wrong by this one. Even now, he was dabbing a washcloth over his sweaty face and neck.

  She could see sweat stains on his shirt, too, under his armpits and forming a V around his neck. Regan looked down at her own tan shirt, relieved she wasn’t sporting the same sweat marks. Deodorant was in short supply. Wolf had stocked up on some, but with seven people on the island, it was going fast. And it did little to actually keep down the body odor that even now filled her nostrils as she breathed in the thick air in the room, made worse by all the bodies crowded inside.

  Showers were a luxury they couldn’t really afford to take often. Wolf had a basic RV-type shower in his house. When you wanted to shower, you turned on the pump, which drew from a fifty-gallon barrel outside the house that was filled with rainwater. When it came to deciding between a shower and a flushing toilet, they all agreed the latter was more important. They could always sponge bathe and take dips in the ocean before giving themselves a quick rinse with freshwater.

  “What about flash floods?” Geno asked.

  “What about them?” RC asked.

  Regan studied the man now standing next to Wolf at the front of the room. The resemblance between the two men was striking. Each had thick black hair, and a defined jaw and cheekbones. Wolf was a little taller than his dad and a lot more muscular. Otherwise, though, the two men shared many of the same mannerisms, and both possessed that same quiet, serious presence she’d come to admire. They were the epitome of peace and tranquility, which made them complete opposites from their houseguests. Well, peaceful, if you ignored the guns and hunting knives they were never without.

  Geno shrugged. “You said flash flooding would be a concern if the rain really piled on. Then, you said it rained every day, so I guess we have to figure on them. But we can’t actually prepare for a flash flood, can we? Isn’t that why they’re called flash floods to begin with?”

  Lily snickered, earning a look from her father.

  “We keep an eye on things. Once we get further into the season, it really will rain every day, and we’ll have a lot of downpours. If we get too many for too long, or for too many days in a row, we fill the sandbags. The house isn’t in any real danger of flooding, but we have to watch the paths, watch the trees around the house to make sure the ground stays sure, and watch out for the supplies we have elsewhere on the island, such as the boats and docks, that could be affected by a heavy outpouring of water coming in one shot. I built on the highest part of the island, and the concrete foundation gives us another foot, so it’s not so much the house we worry about as everything around us when it comes to any flooding,” Wolf explained.

  That seemed to settle Geno’s concerns. He nodded his head and leaned back against the couch, relaxing a bit.

  “Will the rain break this godforsaken humidity?” Tabitha asked, dabbing at her neck with a wet cloth before raising her chin to let the breeze wash over the damp area.

  They were all carrying around wet cloths lately, trying to stay cool. No matter how much they sponged away the sweat, there was always more.

  “That’s the blessing of the afternoon rain,” Wolf offered with a grin. “You get hot, the rain cools you off. It’s the humidity after a real storm passes that can be the worst.”

  “And remember to drink plenty of water in this weather,” RC lectured. “When you stop sweating, that’s when you’ve got a problem.”

  “Alright, any questions about what we need to get done today?” Wolf asked. When no one responded, he gave a curt nod. “Okay then, let’s get to work and then reconvene by the picnic tables before the afternoon rain sets in. I want us to go through a quick demonstration before we rustle up lunch.”

  A collective groan had sounded at the thought of going outside, though it wasn’t a lot better in the house. In fact, Regan preferred the shade of a tree with the breeze coming off the water. It wasn’t exactly cool, but any air moving was better than nothing. Wolf had several oscillating fans going off the solar power, but they didn’t do a lot of good to combat the humidity. She longed for the days of indoor air conditioning.

  Lily walked out of the room first, heading for the open front door. Regan followed, hoping to try to talk with her. Her heart went out to the girl. Being a preteen was hard enough. Hanging out with your dad and grandpa and four complete strangers wasn’t likely at the top of any teen’s list.

  “Hey,” Regan called out. “I was wondering if you could clue in a non-native as to what I should be expecting from a hurricane.” She’d sa
id it half-jokingly, hoping to break the ice.

  Lily froze ahead of her, and Regan thought the girl was going to blow her off until she turned her eyes to the sky and then looked back to Regan honestly, rather than with a sarcastic scowl. “They’re not always so bad,” the girl admitted. “They cool things down a lot, and most of them aren’t strong enough to do more than bring a few trees down.”

  As they passed by the corner of the house, they stopped to check the rain barrels. It was a habit Regan had gotten into at any time she left the house. Water was one of the most valuable commodities. It was up to each of them to ensure they were set up for success. Later in the season, Wolf had warned them they’d have to start storing water pretty carefully, and not rely on near daily rain showers, but for now they could be a bit more casual about expecting Mother Nature to provide this resource, at least. Still, Regan liked to be sure.

  She stopped to adjust a screen over one of the barrels that was positioned under the eaves of the roof. There was a gutter positioned directly over the center of the barrel. It acted as a siphon for the water that would hit the roof, run into the gutter, and eventually the barrel. The screen kept out the large bits of debris that fell from the trees onto the roof. It hadn’t rained the day before, but Regan knew it would today—they might as well protect against leaves now. The barrels were currently half-full and from the look of the sky, they’d be replenished yet again that afternoon.

  Another thing she couldn’t get used to—daily rain showers. Wolf had told her that, during some summers, they’d nearly been able to set the clock by them. Thankfully, they were still early enough in the summer that they got an occasional day without rain, but RC and Wolf had both warned her that that would end soon enough.