Holding Their Own: A Story of Survival

by Joe Nobody

“Oh, they will establish order all right. They will make people toe the line or kill them. A dead person is an orderly person, after all. Remember the part about looters being shot, and citizens being ordered to remain inside of their homes? The military will use the same tactics they use on new recruits. Idle minds are dangerous minds, so they will make everyone work like dogs, doing whatever menial task they can think of. Exhausted people don’t cause as much trouble as energetic ones.”

  “You make them sound horrible – almost like invaders.”

  “Well, in a way, that is not far from the truth. I actually feel sorry for the Army. Can you imagine the problems associated with executing their orders? The officers will be judged on how many people they feed and keep alive, not how many people are happy. They are being handed millions of unwashed, hungry and sick people who have little hope in the future. They don’t have the training or resources to accomplish this mission. Their bigger problem will be the demoralizing of their own troops. Can you imagine worrying about your family back in Bumfuck, Iowa while you are being ordered to shoot fellow Americans caught stealing food?”

  “Wow, Bishop, you have a dark mind. So we should pack up and ‘Head West, young man?’”

  Bishop thought about this for a minute before he responded.

  “Terri, when we go, we will technically be criminals and open game for any military or law enforcement that still exists. Given bandits and a desperate population, we would have to worry about every other human being between here and there. That is over 600 miles of very dangerous travel.”

  “Wouldn’t we have the same problem here?”

  “Yes, and it could be much, much worse. It has been just over 30 days since the stores were emptied. Many people are probably still hiding and using up what food they have, but it has got to be running out. Hell, we were better prepared than most, and we are running low. There are four million people in greater Houston. If even half go to the Army, that leaves two million desperate souls looking for food.”

  Terri digested Bishop’s reasoning for a little bit and asked, “How would we eat in West Texas?”

  “There are deer and jack rabbit in the area. We have some food in that self-storage bin we rented. I know enough about the local plants that we can probably make it. We will never get fat, but we won’t starve,” Bishop said half-smiling. “Don’t worry babe. My dad had a great recipe for cactus bread.”

  She thought some more about what he had said. Going out to the ranch had been fun the first few times. It had been something different to do and a new place to explore. After a while, it had gotten old, and they hadn’t gone last fall. She finally decided that Bishop was probably right, and really, it didn’t matter to her as long as they were together.

  She went over and sat next to him. They hugged each other for several minutes. She finally smiled and said, “Bonnie and Clyde it is! Let’s be on the dodge together, Clyde.”

  Bishop surprised her and just looked down. He got up and paced around a little bit. She knew enough to just let him stew. He finally stopped and looked at her with very serious eyes and said, “Terri, we have big problems with this trip. We don’t have enough gas to make it. We will need to scavenge on the way, and if we can’t find any, we could end up stranded and walking through the middle of nowhere. We really are going to be Bonnie and Clyde.”

  Terri just smiled and said, “I have seen pictures of Clyde. Your ass is much nicer than his. Let’s get going.”

  The Packing of Memories

  Bishop liked to joke about his old beat-up, Texas pickup truck,” but in reality it was a very nice vehicle. A late model 4x4, it had four doors, leather seats, and most of the conveniences found in a luxury car. It even had a sunroof. The backseat had more room than most sedans, but that meant the bed was not that large.

  Terri and he pulled the camper top out of the garage and installed it over the bed. It provided extra waterproof storage and also served to block the contents of the bed from view.

  They started loading the truck, which proved a difficult task. Because of the hurricanes, they had made a list years ago about what to take if they had to bug out. That list had been compiled with the belief that they would eventually return to, at worst, a wind-damaged home.

  Now they were bugging out and may never return. After a few terse confrontations over what was being stacked by the back door, they decided they would gather everything up and then go through it together.

  Many items were easy to include, such as the few boxes of food that remained and a bag of outdoor clothing. As they were gathering their belongings, they couldn’t help but think about years of desert living without being able to replace anything. During a break, Terri’s mind drifted back to sitting in Sunday school, wearing an itchy starched pinafore and tight, black patent shoes. She couldn’t help but draw a parallel between their situation and Exodus’ account of Moses and the Israelites. Are we going to depend on manna from the sky?

  One of the harshest disagreements started over shoes. Bishop packed two pairs of athletic sneakers, a pair of good hiking boots and a pair of combat boots. Terri started it all by teasing him, “You are worse than any woman I know. Look at all of those shoes. We aren’t going on vacation; we are going into the middle-of-nowhere to survive.”

  Bishop took her teasing way too seriously and reached into her bag and pulled out three boxes of maxi-pads. He held them up and said, “I like a fresh girl as much as anyone, but do you really need five years’ worth of hygiene products?”

  “Yes, I do. Given your attitude, I plan on being on the rag 24x7 for a very long time,” she retorted.

  “I’m glad you warned me, although lately, I probably wouldn’t have noticed any difference.”

  And so it went most of the morning.

  Bishop tried to take special care in the order that he loaded the truck, but it was hopeless. Every time he thought he had it worked out, his mind would create some potential situation where he needed quick access to something now buried in the back. In the end, he decided to just get as much in there as he could and deal with it all later.

  He went in the back door and found Terri sitting on the floor crying. In her lap were several family photographs she had taken off the walls. She looked up, sniffed and said, “I don’t suppose these should go, should they? They would take up a lot of room and probably get broken anyway.”

  “I left room for them Terri. They are important, and I want to take them. You should grab our wedding album and all of the paperwork in the lockbox as well.”

  “Oh Bishop, you are just being nice to me. They are not practical and won’t help us survive one single bit.”

  “Baby, I disagree. We are going to need hope, now more than ever. We have to believe that things will get better and that one day life will return to normal. We need a connection to our past, no matter how bad things get. If you don’t pack them, I will.”

  Terri smiled, stood and they hugged for a few minutes. After that, the packing went smoothly.

  The Trash

  One of the most serious problems facing the council was trash. It was the smell of all of the garbage that caused the issue. After a few days sitting out in the hot Texas sun, the odor became unpleasant to say the least. Normally, trucks would remove the offending waste twice a week. When the trucks stopped coming, the smelly bags had piled up, and the stench was overwhelming. Someone had joked about the odor affecting home values in the neighborhood, but not many laughed.

  At first, the council’s solution was to burn the garbage. The smell of the fires from downtown Houston drifted their way on occasion, and everyone thought the addition of burning the neighborhood’s rubbish would go unnoticed by any nearby predators. It was also common to see house fires in the distance. The combination of candles, abandoned homes, and the absence of any fire departments made plumes of smoke on the horizon a common sight. The smoke from a smaller blaze wouldn’t draw any attention.

  This seemed like a reasonable method until one eveni
ng the trash pit fire almost got out of control. The lack of rain had created an almost perfect environment for brush fires in the surrounding dry vegetation. A strong breeze quickly spread the flames, and the fire soon had the potential to burn down the entire neighborhood. Only a heroic effort by several people forming a bucket line and the water from a nearby pool saved the day.

  So the council decreed that burying the smelly bags of trash was a better solution. Bishop’s wheelbarrow was one of the few in the neighborhood, so it had become common to “barrow it” for trash removal.

  Taking out the garbage quickly became one of Bishop’s least glamorous jobs. He had to find which neighbor had borrowed the wheelbarrow, retrieve it, fill it with his own bags, and push it down the street to the dumpsite. Of course, the accompanying shovel was bound and determined to fall out several times during the trip, normally banging into his leg as it fell. Everyone was responsible for digging his own hole, and in the dry, hard soil, that was backbreaking work. The elderly residents had no chance of excavating any holes, so it became a courtesy to dig out a little more in order to create a place for their trash. With heat over 100 degrees and a rifle in hand, taking out the trash was a multi-hour, pain-in-the-ass chore that had to be done every few days.

  As Bishop was removing the last of the garbage from the house, he told himself this was one part of their current situation he wouldn’t miss. He looked down at his hands and realized how callused they had become. It’s no wonder, he thought, it seems like we are always digging a grave or holes for trash. Mom always said if I didn’t pay attention in school, I would end up working as a ditch digger – little did she know.

  Terri decided to join Bishop as he pushed the wheelbarrow up the street one last time. She knew he was dreading digging the hole, and decided she would go along to lend moral support. More importantly, she wanted to see their street one last time.

  As they walked together, Terri thought about how some aspects of this new life were not all bad. Clothes, strung across makeshift lines, billowed in the breeze, and she loved the smell and feel of sun-dried laundry. Children played outside, and they seemed to form closer relationships than before. She had to smile as two bicycles went flying past pulling wagons in what the kids called chariot races. Were it not for the fact that the nearby babysitter was carrying a rifle, it would have been a scene right out of 1930s small town America. The babysitters had weapons because the parents were concerned about kidnappers taking the children and holding them for ransoms of food - or worse. It had been agreed that the armed supervisors would stay vigilant, but as concealed as possible.

  The smell of cooking fires and outdoor grills often filled the air with wonderful aromas. Since there were no longer any working refrigerators, leftovers and extra portions were often shared with neighbors. One thing’s for sure – now I know who can cook on this street and who can’t.

  Friends waved as Bishop and she passed. Many of them were doing chores, which prior to a few weeks ago, would have seemed strange or out of place. One woman was carrying a bucket of water from the swimming pool into the house. No doubt to flush the commode. Another man was carrying a bundle of firewood back to his home from the nearby woods. The fact that he was armed made the scene only slightly surreal.

  Terri watched Bishop start to dig the hole for the trash and realized how much weight he had lost. She had not weighed herself for weeks, but knew that her clothes fit looser. The combination of physical labor, the constant perspiration from lack air conditioning, and an absence of junk food did have its benefits. She had to admit her body felt better and had more energy than before.

  As they walked back home, she thought about leaving the friends they had made the past few years. She was worried about the old folks as well as the families with young children. This new lifestyle had to be more difficult for them and probably required more adjustment than Bishop and she had to make. Word had spread that most of the elderly couples were heading together to the army checkpoints, and everyone planned to gather, see them off, and wish them well.

  Families with teenagers seemed to be having the most difficulty adjusting. Already, there had been one attempted suicide, and the parents of the young adults were struggling to help them adapt. Video games, social networks, and school gatherings had been abruptly removed from their daily lives. Most of the teenagers had friends they couldn’t contact and were just as worried as anyone missing a family member. Being stuck with mom and dad in the equivalent of a social, deserted island was difficult for them. The few kids of similar ages scattered up and down the street began to band together, but the loss of their network of friends weighed heavily on teens. One young man had commented to Terri that he had dreamed of getting his driver’s license for the last year, only to reach the milestone a week before the shit hit the fan. He wondered if he’d ever learn to drive now.

  Terri listened as Bishop and she walked past two young boys openly arguing over which one was going to be the looter and which one was going to be the guard in their game. She contemplated if it were a bad thing that “Looters and good guys” had replaced “Cowboys and Indians.”

  Part of her wanted to stay and try holding their ground, but she knew deep down that they were making the right choice. The decision would have been easier if there weren’t so many families determined to stay and make a go of it right here. Or was it they had nowhere else to go? Bishop and she had done everything they could to make it work here. No one had contributed more or tried harder – but it was simply unsustainable. There were already households on the street that were out of food. Some men had attempted to hunt small game for a few days, but had found nothing. There was no place to fish or trap and while some gardens had been planted, even a bumper crop would not feed everyone for long. People had taken to gathering various edible plants and roots, but each day they had to venture further from the neighborhood to find a meal. Already there had been two tense encounters with other scavengers in a wooded area nearby. The land could not support the density of the population.

  Terri and Bishop’s instincts for self-preservation had overridden any loyalty to the neighbors. She felt like they were leaving them all to die, but in reality they were leaving for a chance to live. Were they being selfish? Were they placing themselves before the greater good of the community? She shuddered as she thought about millions of people reaching that same conclusion, but having nowhere to go. How long would it take listening to their children cry from hunger or watching loved ones die of starvation, before everyone would turn on each other? How long could any group of people hold together in those circumstances? How many peaceful, good people out there were on the verge of throwing away moral values to secure food? Bishop was right – people would be the problem.

  The fact that Bishop and she didn’t have any close family was a blessing in these times. She knew several people were deeply concerned about loved ones that they could no longer contact. One couple had two children away at college and had not heard a word from either since the collapse. Those parents went through the motions of living, but anyone could see it was eating them alive inside. The father had even approached Bishop and offered him everything they owned if he would drive to the university and bring back his children. Terri remembered that as one of the worst nights for Bishop. He had tried to gently explain to the man that there was simply no way they could do it. It would take several men away from the neighborhood, leaving all of the families exposed, and it required more gasoline than existed on the entire street. Even if they had the gasoline, what if they lost men? What about their families?

  The man had pulled out a file of his extensive investments and bank accounts and offered it all to Bishop - if he would just bring home his son and daughter. When Bishop had refused, the man had left quietly, and had never looked Bishop in the eye again.

  “What are you thinking about, babe?” Bishop’s voice brought her back. They continued walking toward their house, each looking at their surroundings like they would neve
r see them again. Terri finally broke the silence.

  “I’m worried about these people, and I’m trying to find a silver lining inside of this nightmare we are living in. It’s difficult, Bishop. Do you realize these kids will never feel the joy of driving a car?”

  “Some people would say those freedoms we enjoyed is what caused all of this. Think about all the gasoline we wasted and the air pollution we created. After all of this eventually burns down, think about how clear the air will be.”

  “Oh Bishop, that’s silly. You aren’t going green on me, are you?”

  Bishop wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead and said, “We are all going green now – whether we like it or not. I sure hope that global warning thing reverses soon.”

  The Route

  That afternoon, they spread maps and guide books all over the table and planned their route. Bishop wanted an itinerary that avoided large population centers, like Austin and San Antonio, but still allowed for scavenging. They determined they would travel in the dark, using night vision instead of headlights. Bishop had freaked Terri out once by doing this on a vacation. They were driving along at night, and Bishop had brought the monocle up to his eye, turning off the headlights while on a remote stretch of road. Terri could only see a solid black windshield and yet the car was moving at highway speed. She demanded that he stop it, or she would puke. He later showed her that the monocle provided a better view for the driver than the headlights.

  Any route was risky, and it was almost impossible to bypass civilization. There were just too many people on this side of the Hill Country, a 100-mile wide stretch of land that ran through the center of the state. The Texas Hill Country separated the coastal plains of eastern Texas from the arid west and had become a popular area for retiring baby boomers. The once small towns in the region had grown significantly because of retirement homes and the influx of people they attracted. It would be difficult avoiding those areas on their trip.