The Event Series (Book 1): Life After the Meteor

by Thomas Larson

  Teckla offered him a place with us. He was family after all.

  “No” he said, “I am high enough in the food chain that if the place was going to hell that I will be in the final ring of defense and until then I have a good gig going. We’re family, but I’m part of the herd that lives comfortably at the lake, it has been like that for years. From now on you’re a herd of nomads and I am not ready for that change in lifestyle.”

  While we drove I talked with Nate. He was actually kind of a likeable guy on the surface and it was that charisma that was the glue that held the community together. But you could also feel his dark side. He asked me point blank if we were planning to return. I was honest with him and said “No”. It did not shock him much. But he did ask why. I explained to him that I did not feel that the place was right for us. He pressed a little more, for some solid details so I laid out what I saw and how I read it. The safe and unsafe areas, the selective fortifications and “crumple zones”. But I did not betray Elgin. I knew that Teckla was talking to him about joining us. But I also knew Elgin, and I was reasonably certain he would stay with the lake folks.

  When we came to the main road out of the lake area we took a left, which kind of surprised Nate. I don’t think he realized that we knew about the dirt road back to Route 57. If he had any set plans to stop us from our run, I had just put a wrinkle into those plans.

  We drove down about a mile and a half and then stopped. We let them go. Elgin and I hugged, and I wished him well, as did the rest of the family. Nate and I faced each other and kind of shrugged. We had made our peace and knew where we stood. He told me “You could have been a Prince.”

  “For a while, but only for a while,” I answered.

  We climbed back into our cars and the caravan drove off briskly, but not recklessly. I was not all that sure I trusted the lake folks.

  Several hours later I got a text from Elgin. “I’m fine and have weathered the accusations and inquisition ” was all it said.

  Barry had apparently showed up shortly after we had dropped them off. The back road idea had been a good one and Barry was tear-ass that he did not get a chance to teach me a lesson for the little laser dot thing. But rather than have them chase us down, and they probably could have, Nate ordered him to let us go. No good would come from the groups fighting it out. It would be a waste of resources that would be needed sooner or later when the undead showed up.

  Overall we only lost about 40 minutes in the exchange and activities spent in getting out of the Otis Compound. That left us enough time to get to Windsor and make the rescue attempt, provided we had an easy time in finding and loading up the water craft to do it. As we travelled down Route 8, we came to just the location for the items we needed. It was fortunately abandoned also. It seemed that more people were interested in ATVs and dirt bikes than a new jet ski.

  It was Frank’s idea to take a bass boat instead. To me that seemed a little cumbersome for our efforts and needs at first, but as I thought more about it there was a sense to it. It would be safer and easier to get the folks across the river. So we hooked the trailer with the boat to the Kia and started toward the Windsor boat launch. As Frank, Mark and I traveled toward Windsor we found a motorcycle on the way. It was a Honda Goldwing which was good to carry two people comfortably but was definitely not one that would be good in an off road capacity. But it opened up some interior room for the trip back.

  The rest of the group took some time to make certain there were not items in the marine shop that we might need. Then they followed our route scavenging as they went. They were careful to not engage any of the locals that were still around but if there was a business that seemed as if it might hold something of value, it was checked out. There are some items that were always on the list of things to grab. I mean food, and water was always sought after. But also things like batteries and gasoline are also very high on the list. In the weapons department guns and ammunition were must haves. Medical supplies were always a must. If we came upon a small trailer that we could add to one of our vehicles, it would be great for extra carrying space.

  Cash, while it did not take up much room was not of any real value unless you were trying to light a fire. Cigarettes and alcohol would be potential barter commodities although most of us were not big into the use of either item. We would be living in a trade and barter society as well as one that relied on scavenging and perhaps even eventually raiding. We would become like early Native Americans or for that matter Asians, Europeans or Africans living in a hunter gatherer society of small nomadic tribes.

  In the course of our searching we kept an eye out for precious metals and such, although they were rare. We did not take jewelry off the dead. Eventually we might, but it was too soon.

  In the scavenging part of the group Nick let his inner World of War Craft alter ego go wild, they found a machine shop which he put the time to good use. He made a dozen melee weapons. It did not take long to make them. The shafts on them were made of aluminum and the heads were steel. He had a couple of different designs, some were like war axes and others were like a morning star. The heads and shafts were bolted on making them interchangeable. He designed the weapons to work well for the individual wielding it. He made one that was painted up as a Hello Kitty for Lauren, and some kind of pink ones for Jan and Margo. His, of course, was the biggest, sharpest and shiniest.

  The forage team found some fair sized school backpacks at one of the dollar stores. Teckla and Lauren filled these packs for assorted survival goods so that if someone had to make a side trip or if the need for a general escape occurred someone could easily get away with some basics. Each kit contained some medical stuff, and a couple quarts of water, snacks and canned goods, a Swiss army knife, compass, flashlight with some spare batteries, a Mylar survival blanket, some matches or a lighter, a whistle and the all-important roll of duct tape. These packs were kept near Nick’s little head knockers.

  As we travelled through the Unionville area toward Windsor, we found that the Farmington River was much higher than we had thought due to the winter snowmelt. We would be able to save time and exposure to any hordes that had come out of the Hartford / Windsor by using the area of Plantation Golf Course in Farmington as our launch base for rescue operations. This would mean that there would be no eyes and ears at the crossing but there would be less cold temperature exposure or likelihood of someone falling into the icy river. The benefits seemed to outweigh the risks.

  We were able to find a suitable place to put the boat into the water. Frank said “It has been a while since I fished the river, but I’m fairly familiar with it. I’ll take Mark with me,”

  It was about 8 AM when the two of them set off. I sent a text to the folks; “The cavalry was coming”

  I got back “We don’t see them.”

  “We changed up the plan, will still be there at 9”

  I realized texting in this case was stupid, so I called and spoke with Arcelia. I told her “It would be good if they could get a little jump start that would be good.

  She said they were already there she went on to tell me that the area was still pretty clear and that the only problem area in traffic was Route 5. They said that after our text of yesterday they had made a test run and were able to get around a few cars and onto Pleasant Valley Road and down to Old Main Street.

  I reminded them that it would be a water rescue, which they already knew and also that it might be a little cold so make certain that they were bundled up with rain gear on the outside.

  This was a risky plan. We were going to try to evacuate two people in their 80s, and not in the best of health. If one of them hit the water, it is likely that they would not survive long, if the heart did not give out from the initial shock of the cold water and the potential panic they were going to be heavily dressed which meant sinking quickly was likely. But it was the only way to get to them.

  I messaged Frank and Mark. “Packages ready for pick-up, it was all up to you.”


  I did not expect a message back but was surprised when Mark said, “We are at the junction of the Farmington and Connecticut rivers. We are close.”

  I had a little time to think while I was waiting for their return. I guessed it would be at least an hour before they got back, if all went well. The question was what do you think about when the world as you have known it was basically coming to an end and that your chances of survival were not all that great. I decided that I would forgo the philosophical things like is there a God, what it is like to die, or do the infected think or feel and go for the more pressing issues of the moment.

  I knew that to survive we would have to develop and hone a warrior’s mindset and skills. We were not by nature hunters and gatherers but we might be faced with other groups who were. We needed a code, a sort of philosophy, oops; I guess I am going to get philosophical. I really did not think that it would be that difficult to put a code together. It seems that we, humanity, have a built in code of ethics when it comes to the big things. It is like in nature, you do not kill unless it is necessary for your own survival. On the surface that is easy. But then the old saying is that the devil is in the details.

  We shall have to sit down as a group and make our social compact, but more importantly will have to develop our plans for dealing with other groups who may have a different view of right and wrong. Avoid, attack, defend or merge seem to be the four main choices. And I think that in each choice I would like to see the other group make the choice based upon their actions.

  But these are my thoughts on it and although I seem to be the de facto leader right now it is not a job that I want, or enjoy. It is just a job that has fallen on me or the old cop in me just made me step up to it. In the crisis we need to have security, and the belief that we can and will survive. Initially I have provided that but it is draining.

  In the back of my mind there is always the questions of what should be done, and what happens if I mess up. My hope was that we find somewhere to settle, and build our new world where I am relieved of the duties. I can hang on during the crisis because with the exception of Teckla, I see no one else able to step up. Once we get through the crisis I think that things will be easier and we will be able to make a small community with some type of clan leader(s) instead of what I am now, a sort of war chief.

  I received a text from Mark. “Packages picked up, only minor difficulties, ETA 25 minutes.”

  I am looking forward to hearing the details of the minor difficulties. We have just added two very old and frail individuals to our group. I think that they can and will be useful and productive, but the medical side is going to be an issue, and there will come a time when we lose them.

  It is kind of funny, (peculiar, not ha-ha) that even though they chose to stay, and we knew what the end result was going to be, it was kind of like Schrodinger’s Cat, we would never be given real proof of the demise, so you continued to consider that they were still fine, and alive. Now, we would be forced to face that final reality.

  In our initial plan of escape it was going to be a head southwest to meet up with Anne’s Brother in the area of Dodge City, Kansas. The logic was that in the hot and dry of summer time the infected would be exposed to a faster rate of decay and hopefully become less mobile to the point that there were basically skeletons that if you put your foot into their mouths they might have enough jaw muscle left to take a bite. But they would not be able to chase you down. I am still thinking that it is a good plan. But in listening to some podcasts from various “experts” it was also suggested that in the winter and cold of the North might be good because the infected, like reptiles or insects would become dormant. I am not sure, and I think that is a question that will only be answered definitively over time.

  While contemplating the issues of the infected I thought back to some of the old movies that I had watched. One of the questions that concerned me was how well these things held up under water. Could they survive, I am not sure what other term to use here, under water? Did it cause them to lose orientation? If you were being tracked, how would the water and reduced visibility impact their ability to target you. What is the difference between salt water, and fresh, moving and still, these questions are all important because it could help in finding a safe haven.

  If, for example, they are rendered ineffective by water, which ever type, would that make a boat or island safe? If not, it could be disastrous because they could be on top of you with minimal warning. The ironic part of this thought session is that so far I have not seen a single infected individual in person. I have not had to terminate one, or even see how quick or slow they moved. All of my knowledge was based upon fiction and the dribs and drabs that have come from the news media.

  I heard something, and at first thought I may have wished myself bad for not seeing an infected person. Fortunately the sound I heard was not the moan of a turned victim, but the boat in the distance. It was a relief that they were nearly back. It was about 2 minutes and I saw them coming down the river, although thinking about it, they were going against the river so I guess it would be that they were coming up river. Either way it was now just about getting them ashore and loading up. I could see four heads, so that was a good sign.

  As they pulled up on the bank by the golf course, it was a hug fest. When I went to hug Arcelia, but she said to hold on a minute and unzipped her jacket. A furry little head popped out and although not looking overly happy, it was Skidder. Cyril had Rosy in his jacket and she in true cat tradition had the look of not one shit being given.

  Frank said, “All went well and that there was really no issues or contact with infected (he used the term Zoms), or for that matter anyone.”

  This seemed wrong to me. We were still too early in The Event or crisis for everyone to just be gone. But that was a puzzle for another day. Right now it was time to get moving and get back with the larger group. We had a lot to talk about and develop for the future.

  It was lucky that we had taken the Goldwing. It would have been very tight in the Kia with 5 of us and the gear we were carrying. After loading up we climbed in and started back toward the other part of our scavenging group. They were still in the Barkhampsted / New Hartford area.

  As we drove, I got a message from Teckla. It was not good news. She told me to turn to the EBS channel on the radio. I did and the message was devastating. The elected Government had basically fallen silent and the military had assumed the worst, as well as command. Hartford and Springfield had been overrun and it was time to cleanse the area. I was not certain what cleanse meant, but my guess was like London or Moscow it was time to burn the city, and it would be a nuclear fire. The cleansing was scheduled to commence at 16:00 hours.

  We were all quiet for a few minutes as I drove on, each of us thinking about the impact of this announcement and the situation that would lead to this type of action. We would in a later time discover that a small armada of US Naval ships and cruise ships had departed from Baltimore. Those ships had most of the elected government on board. They, in essence, deserted their post and left the rest of us on our own. Their plan was to find a safe haven and maybe return in a couple of years when the crisis had burned itself out.

  As Mark drove, I texted Teckla back and told her to get her group into the Berkshires thinking that the hills would help us survive the initial shock waves. She should look for a place like a valley or glen to hole up in. I was reasonably certain that although it was not mentioned, Albany was also a target on the hit parade. We would be running about an hour behind them. I texted her to keep us posted as to their location and travel conditions on the way.

  We really had no trouble in our drive. The roads were empty of moving vehicles and we were able to navigate the parked or broken down ones. Frank was on the Goldwing and he would run ahead of us checking gas stations for refueling options. We actually found a couple of abandoned convenience stores on the way which had power.

  As Teckla’s group moved toward the Berkshires they had to m
ake a pass through the vicinity of Otis Reservoir. In their scavenging they had come upon a generator (Ingersoll), one that had wheels and required towing. It was really too big for us to drag along for any distance, but could help Camp Overrun. The name, Overrun, just struck me and I hope that it is not an omen of things to come for them.

  They made a brief stop at the intersection of Route 57 and the dirt road that was the back way into the camp and unhooked the generator. They also left a couple of bottles of good Scotch Whiskey. As they drove away, they texted Uncle Elgin and told him where the camp people could pick up the gift. It was a gesture that could pay dividends down the road if we were ever back that way. He thanked us and warned that the Mass Pike was rumored shut down from exit 8 back to Springfield. It seems that a mile or so before that exit there had been a plane crash, a big military craft, a C-5 or C-17. It was trying to make it to Westover AFB. The wreckage blocked the road, which was already clogged with traffic, and the fire that followed pretty much ended the threat of Zoms (I guess I like Frank’s term) from that cluster of traffic, at least for a while.

  Teckla asked him if he was aware of the cleansings that was planned for Springfield, Hartford and other medium cities. He said that they had heard about it and were as prepared as they could be. The terrain was to their advantage and they had created a number of small shelters to give that little extra protection from the blast, but he doubted that the shock waves would even reach them. They had a retired Air Force Colonel in their group and to his best guess the plan was to introduce “suitcase” nukes into the city and activate them. The weapons were low yield, about 1/5th the size of the Hiroshima bomb but enough to wipe out or burn the city leaving minimal radiation residue.