Holding Their Own: A Story of Survival

by Joe Nobody

  She found a long piece of steel rebar and hurried back to the gas station pipe she had uncovered. After a little probing and prying, she put all of her weight on the rebar pole, using it as a lever to snap the old pipe in two. Nothing, dry as a bone. Determination overrode her disappointment, so it was back up the rise, wanting to get another look where the pipe crossed the wash. She noticed a bulge in the pipe at the edge of the ravine. She brushed away years of caked-on dust and mud and found a valve. There was no handle, just a hole with a stem and the words OPEN, CLOSE, and DRAIN stamped into it. She dug around some more and found an open side to the valve that would have drained the water into the gully. So that’s how this ditch got here, she thought, someone had opened this valve to drain the water. After so many years, the water had washed away all of the soft soil and left this trench.

  College Showers

  Bishop was dreaming of heat and being thirsty. His dream wandered back to the time when his college girlfriend and he were stranded along the road. The truck that had picked them up had a huge tank on the back and was headed to Sanderton. After giving the desperate kids a drink, the driver had provided a ride back to the town. On the way, Bishop learned that the truck was delivering water to Sanderton, and the entire tank was filled with the potable liquid. Bishop had thought water an odd cargo until the driver explained to Bishop how the water system worked. Bishop was in his first year of college and was studying Fluid Dynamics, so anything to do with gravity and pressure held his interest. The man looked over at the still hot and sweaty kids and told them he had a special treat for them when they got to town.

  He pulled his truck up to the top of the rise and motioned them to follow. He walked about 50 yards down the side and came to the trench. “I have to flush the tank every time to make sure there isn’t any sediment. Watch.”

  He stuck a wheel valve key into the stem and turned the handle. Water began spraying out of the valve and down the wash. He looked at Bishop and his girl and said, “My grandkids love to play in there. Go cool off. I’ll yell before I come down to close the valve.”

  Bishop and his girl looked at each other and scrambled down the hill into the big shower of wonderful, cool water. It was not long before they were pulling off their clothes, and Bishop hoped the guy really would yell before he came down the hill.

  Terri took her shovel and banged it on the side of the valve closest to town. It sounded hollow and empty. Then she banged on the pipe closest to the tank, and it gave a completely different tone. It was full of water, or mud or something. She studied the valve for a while and realized there was no way to tell which state it was in – open, closed or drain. There was also no way she could open it. Why is everything in this place such a bitch to get in, open, or find? Her mind drifted back to the door of the building, and that led to an idea.

  She filled the back of the truck with everything she could find that would hold water. She combined the plastic bins that were partially empty of the food they had been eating, gathered up all of the empty water bottles and threw in a few trash bags for good measure. She found Bishop’s big, camping backpack and removed the 100 feet of climbing rope he kept there. After driving the truck to the top of the hill and checking the roads, she unloaded all of her containers and put them at the bottom of the wash. The rope was easily looped around the pipe and secured to the trailer hitch on the truck.

  At first, she didn’t think the truck would to be able to break the pipe. When the truck lurched forward the first time, she thought she had done it, but the rope had just become untied. On the third attempt, the wheels spun just a bit, and the truck moved forward again. She shut off the engine, ran to look over the edge of the ravine, and saw water spraying through the air.

  She rushed to the bottom of the wash and filled her cupped hands to smell the water. It smelled fine and was much cooler than the surrounding air. She started filling everything she had carried down the hill while letting the water soak her as much as possible, careful not to drink any. Before long, she had peeled off her clothes and became only the second, naked young woman to enjoy the Sanderton waterfall in the last 25 years.

  Skinny Dipping

  Terri didn’t know how long she stood under the water, but it seemed like a long time before the flow weakened. She washed her clothes and hung them to dry in the sun. The water pouring over her had helped with her attitude more than anything she could remember. Now we need something to drink.

  Her clothes dried quickly in the hot sun and dry air. After dressing, she began hauling the water up to the truck. She felt bad that she had just left the truck blocking the road. If someone had come over the hill it might have caused an accident, but this had been an emergency. It took several trips up and down to get all of the water loaded, and she refilled the radiator with one trash bag. There was enough water pouring out to refill it. Carrying all of the water up the hill made her break out in another sweat. After the last trip, she couldn’t resist standing underneath the dwindling flow to rinse off one last time.

  It took her almost the rest of the day to boil all of the water she had collected. She wasn’t sure how long to let it bubble, so decided on 10 minutes per full pan. Her first thought had been to use the camping purifiers, but they were slow and required a lot of energy. She considered a fire outside, but was concerned about someone passing by, and she wanted to stay close to Bishop.

  Using only the small mess kit pans that were in their packs, she would boil one and let it cool while she started another. She had filled all of their containers and used a plastic bag of water to wash off Bishop as best she could. She was careful to keep the underground water from his wounds, fearing any little critters that may be living there. Bishop seemed to respond well to the bath having spent the day inside the hot building. As soon as the boiled water had cooled, she and Bishop drank all they wanted.

  Terri made one last trip to the waterfall that afternoon and placed an empty bin under the drip in order to salvage every last drop. It finally ended its flow later that day, and she used that water to clean the inside of the truck because Bishop’s dried blood had started to smell really bad.

  Bishop spent the next two days sleeping and drinking water, but on the third day was able to get up from the hammock and walk around. He wanted to know every single detail about what had happened during the three days he had been in “la-la land.” He even ate some chicken noodle soup that afternoon.

  Afterwards, he took her hand, and they walked outside to look at the mountains. He gently touched her face and brushed her hair. “Terri, I am so impressed at what you did the last few days. I really don’t have the words. I am proud, grateful and very, very happy you are my girl. No one could ask for more. No one could have done better. You saved our lives, and I love you very much. Thank you.”

  Terri’s eyes started to water, and she pulled him closer. “I was so scared. I had to help you, Bishop. I couldn’t let you die. I love you.”

  On their fourth day at Sanderton, both of them woke to a very strange noise. Bishop had installed a blackout curtain in the front of their building so he could keep an eye on Terri as she moved around the ghost town. It was just after sunrise, and the sound was like someone playing a drum with a bad rhythm. Bishop stood and looked outside and was shocked to see three men on horseback riding down the road. Were it not for the blacktop, the men would have been perfect extras in any Hollywood western. Slickers, dusty hats, and rifles in saddle holsters gave them the look of being ready for trouble. They never even glanced at the ghost town and just kept riding at a slow gait. That night, Bishop and Terri could hear gunfire at a great distance, but couldn’t tell where the shots were coming from.

  The only other activity around the area occurred on the morning of the fifth day. Terri was looking through the rubble of the gas station, and Bishop was watching her from his perch in the building. Without warning, a pickup truck came over the rise from the north. Terri froze right where she was, but had no chance of finding a hiding pla
ce. The man driving the pickup stopped at the intersection and looked both directions, then kept on going. Terri swore later the man looked right at her, but Bishop was unsure. Terri wanted to leave before the man in the truck returned with some of his friends. Bishop thought that was a good idea.

  But there was still the matter of the busted radiator hose. Bishop had Terri concentrate her efforts on finding a piece of rubber hose to fix the truck. Bishop knew the heat of the coolant would melt duct tape again, but hoped to insulate the broken hose with rubber and wrap the tape around the outside. Terri had found some hose, but it was crumbling and worthless, so he had her searching for any sort of pliable, soft metal that he could use in the same way.

  While she couldn’t find any suitable rubber or soft metal, Terri did find two rusted pipe clamps. Bishop used a little of the engine oil they’d packed for the truck to soak them for several hours and get the rust off. After their bath, the clamps worked. He took a tin can and pounded on it with a hammer for an hour to get the shape he wanted. Bishop was finally satisfied that they had the truck at a point where he felt that it would not drink more water than they would.

  The Great Sanderton Bug Out

  There was a single road between Sanderton and Meraton, and Bishop was uncomfortable at having no other option. Although there was practically zero population in the 100-mile stretch between the two towns, they had heard and seen at least two cars and three horses using it. The gasoline taken from the roadblock could get them to Meraton. Bishop’s land was about three hours south and west of Meraton. Since he had grown up in the area, he wondered if contacting old friends to obtain gasoline might be an option. He knew the chances of scavenging between Sanderton and Meraton were very low.

  They waited until dark and slowly pulled away from their home of the last week. Neither of them were sad to see it go, and they both enjoyed the truck’s air conditioning. Bishop could raise his arm up to about shoulder high, but it was still very weak. While he had always practiced shooting one-handed, his skills were never as good as using both, and he prayed there wouldn’t be any trouble.

  Meraton, Texas – September 24, 2015

  Are those lights, or are you just glad to see me?

  They were traveling at 30 mph, and both were keeping a keen lookout for anything unusual. The land was open, mountainous desert for as far as the eye could see and had been that way for hours. Bishop asked Terri to stop, and she pulled to the side of the road. He could see lights in the distance and was sure it was Meraton. “They have electricity!” he told Terri.

  To be accurate, Meraton had lights, but not electrical power. The county had decided that Meraton had a chance to become the next big growth area for the local tax base. This was primarily due to the artistic and culinary crowd that had previously relocated there. Since these people were a little more liberal than the traditional Texas resident, going green was thought to be a way to attract even more relocation and growth. When federal grant money became available in one of the seemingly endless programs to create jobs, the commissioners had jumped on it and received funding to install solar streetlights.

  Not to be outdone, The Manor installed a solar system for its pool and garden lights and immediately marketed itself as a green destination. The good citizens of Meraton really didn’t care much about green energy; they were happy to finally have streetlights in their growing little town.

  To Bishop and Terri, the entire town appeared to have power, but what they were seeing was actually the twinkle of six new solar powered streetlights and glow of The Manor’s gardens. Bishop scanned with the big rifle’s scope for almost 15 minutes and didn’t see any moving cars. He did notice several horses tied in front of one building. The Manor had numerous cars parked along its entrance, which fronted Main Street. If he had been returning from a two-month hunting trip in the Glass Mountains, the town would show no sign that a major collapse in society had occurred while he was gone. Everything looked absolutely normal.

  They talked it over for a bit and decided to boldly drive right into town. As they approached the outskirts, Bishop asked Terri to turn on the truck’s headlights, and they put away their NVD equipment. The first business on the edge of town was a gas station. Bishop noted that it looked like a normal, closed gas station - no broken glass or evidence of looting at all. They went by a few, dark art galleries, and everything looked fine. The entire length of Main Street showed no clue that anything was wrong. Everything seemed as it should on a weekday night after all of the businesses had closed for the day.

  The building with all of the horses out front didn’t have a sign, but Bishop could see candles burning inside.

  They pulled around to the back of The Manor’s grounds and parked in the rear lot. Bishop was unsure of what to do. He didn’t know if he should just walk up to the door and ask if there were any vacancies or scout around for a bit with his rifle. As they were talking it over, Terri saw a man looking out of the garden gate at them, and thought he had a rifle. She pointed, but by the time Bishop looked up, he was gone. “Let’s drive around a bit more and see what is going on.”

  There really wasn’t much of Meraton to drive around and see. The small city park, complete with fishing lake and the only trees in town, was closed, but that was normal at this hour. They passed the cemetery, and Bishop nervously made a bad joke about people just dying to get into the place. Terri started to punch him in his sore arm, but stopped at the last moment. They drove through two small sections of homes. A few had dim light glowing through the windows. None appeared to have been looted.

  They wound up back on Main and were heading to The Manor, when Bishop saw two men getting on their horses. Terri stopped right in the middle of the street, and Bishop got out to investigate.

  “Howdy,” he said to them, carefully positioning his body between the men and Terri.

  “Howdy. That you driving around town, mister?” one of them asked.

  “Yes sir, we haven’t been here for a while and wanted to see what had changed.”

  “Not often people waste gas like that these days. We saw you drive in from the east. Where from?”

  “Houston,” Bishop replied.

  “Houston? How long ago did you leave Houston?”

  “About a month ago - something like that. We wanted to take the scenic route.”

  “We ain’t seen anyone come from the east in two weeks. I heard it was purdy bad. That true?”

  “You heard right.” Bishop pointed to the building they had just left and said, “Is everyone having a church social?”

  Both of the cowboys laughed, and the older one said, “Naw, that’s Pete’s place. He just opened up before the electric went out. He is out of the hard stuff, but he has beer and maybe some wine for your lady over there. If you’re thirsty and have something to trade, he will make it right.”

  The other cowboy added, “We ain’t had a stiff drink for going on three weeks. There’s a bright side though. Bill ain’t fell off his horse since then neither.”

  Everyone, including Bill laughed and after a bit, Bishop questioned, “If I could provide something a little stronger than beer, could I swap it for information?”

  “Depends on what ya got to trade and what you want to ask. But hell, I don’t know any secrets, so let’s give it a try.” Both men dismounted and re-tied their horses. Bishop noticed they both wore side arms, so he decided to take his .45 and told Terri to do the same with her pistol. She gave him a look that said, Do you really think I would go in there without it? While they parked the truck, Bishop noticed several faces watching them through the window.

  Bill waited while the other man went back inside, and Bishop could hear laughter drifting out from the door. Bishop asked Bill if the truck would be okay where it was. Bill just nodded and turned to go inside the bar. Bishop dug the full bottle of bourbon out of the back and locked the camper shell anyway.

  He went in first and looked around. Were it not for all nine of the men inside wearing pistols
, it would have looked just like any Country and Western watering hole in this part of the world. The shotgun lying on the bar was another dead giveaway that this was not your typical small town icehouse.

  As Bishop paused to take it all in, he couldn’t help but wonder if this were what it had been like in the Old West. The distinct smell of the horses, candles, and saddle leather filled his head. It all seemed to belong to another time. There were no video games, and the television over the bar was dark and quiet. The only noise was the low, gentle hum of people with nothing else to do, but talk to other people. He wondered how many times this scene had been played out? Terri and he were the strangers, arriving in town at the local saloon. The townsfolk, half-bored, half-nosey, and concerned about troublemakers, were trying to size them up without giving insult or acting like they cared. If the situation had not been so serious, Bishop would have been tempted to hook his thumbs in his pockets, belly up to the bar, and declare, “Barkeep – I got three days ride in mah throat and need to wash it down.” Terri would pull her pistol and shoot me on the spot.

  The neon signs above the bar were dark, but there were enough candles to see quite the assortment of animals mounted on the walls. A few signs, advertising different brands of beer and other refreshments were scattered among the trophies. It was a small town, smoke-filled barroom, complete with peanut shells on the floor. He could see two women in the place, so clearly it wasn’t stud. Everyone turned to see what was happening as they darkened the door. And when Terri walked in behind Bishop, all the men tipped their hats and said “Ma’am.”