Teenage Survivalist Series [Books 1-3]

by Casey, Julie L.

  It was the first real inkling we had that the power outage might be more widespread than just the Midwest. That was a scary thought—the whole world being affected by the solar flare—and no one wanted to say it out loud, but we were all thinking it. It made me wonder about the astronauts aboard the International Space Station. Would they have been hurt by the solar flare? And if they survived, how could they get in touch with NASA and the other space agencies, if everyone was without power around the world? They would be stranded out there, alone.

  And the satellites; I could understand there being no planes in the air, but what about the satellites? I mean, even if we could get the electricity back on, without satellites there would be no television, no cell phones, no air travel.

  I was beginning to think that Skylar wasn’t just talking about her life never being the same again. Maybe none of ours would be. It was an even more unsettling thing to consider, so I tried to put it out of my mind and just focus on what was happening right then instead.

  After about three weeks at home, a couple of men from the National Guard pulled up our drive in a jeep—the only vehicle we’d seen on the highway by our house in days—to tell us that the President had declared martial law for the entire United States and to ask if we needed any emergency supplies. After the initial shock of hearing that the whole country was impacted, we tried to ask them lots of questions, but they were in a hurry and didn’t seem inclined to stick around to answer them.

  The men did say, though, that it appeared it would be a long time before electricity was restored nationwide—however much time “a long time” was—and that we’d better start thinking of some way to survive the winter without it. They said that the priority was to restore power to the big cities first, where millions of people lived and didn’t have access to wood and food like my family did. We understood—part of living in the country is always having backup plans when things don’t go right. We were a little dazed, however, to realize that going to the city to stay in a hotel or get supplies probably wasn’t going to be among those backup plans.

  The thought of supplies got Mom thinking about the important things we needed to have on hand for the winter—important things like toilet paper. We could do without a lot of things, she said, or use something else instead of an item, like cloth hankies instead of Kleenex, but what were we to do without toilet paper?

  Dad just chuckled and said, “We have a whole cornfield full of cobs out there, you know.” Mom wasn’t satisfied with that idea, however. After thinking about it all day, she came up with a solution. She hauled a couple of boxes of our old clothes up from the basement and began cutting the T-shirts and other soft clothes into four-inch squares. She said we could use those when the toilet paper ran out. I was grossed out thinking about having to wash all those stinky cloths, but Mom said she’d handle the laundry as long as my brothers and I pumped the water and hauled it in for her.

  Dad, on the other hand, was thinking about big things. He decided we were going to need some form of transportation besides the gas-powered vehicles, and he had an idea of what that would be and where he could get it. He told me and my brothers to put on some “walkin’ clothes” and we set out on foot to visit old Mr. Caruthers, who lived about eight miles away. Mom made us sandwiches and filled thermoses with coffee to take with us, as it would probably take at least a couple of hours to get there.

  The walking was easy since we could walk on the highway without fear of being run over, and the day was nice—cool and sunny, so it wasn’t too hot or too cold. We ate and drank as we walked and it was really kind of fun. Dad was more talkative than usual along the way, and he had lots of stories of when he was a kid and the crazy things he and his three brothers did. Even Alex was in a good mood, probably because he now realized that he could walk to Robin’s house fairly easily after walking this far, as she lived only about six miles away from us.

  Mr. Caruthers had a barn filled with old wagons and antique farm equipment, which he had collected over the years. Dad bartered a year’s supply of corn and a pair of goats in exchange for a wagon and a couple of big geldings. He sure was glad that he had decided to store his grain in silos until the spring when prices would be higher; not only would we not starve, but he now had something to barter with. He also promised to come back with us boys to chop enough wood for the winter and do some handy work for Mr. and Mrs. Caruthers in exchange for a wagonload of hay and oats to feed the horses during the winter months.

  The wagon we got was old, but in pretty good shape. Mr. Caruthers said it would probably need new boards on the sides soon, but that was easy to fix as we had some extra 1x8s at home. As Mr. Caruthers was showing us how to hitch up the horses, Dad spied a big, old pot-bellied stove in the corner of the barn and talked him into selling us that too. It took all five of us to get that stove loaded into the wagon, but Dad seemed pleased with himself for getting it.

  We rode home in style, Dad and I perched atop the bench of the wagon and Alex and Calvin in the back atop the bales of hay. Mom heard the dogs barking and she met us in the front yard with a big smile on her face, matched only by Dad’s proud grin. The first problem immediately became apparent: where to keep the horses. We had a large barn, which housed the farm equipment, but there were no stalls inside for horses, and the pen that the goats and chickens were in was too small for horses to live in.

  We had to crowd them in the pen temporarily while we set to work fixing up the barn and a larger outside area for them. Luckily, Dad’s grandfather, who had owned our farm before us, used to raise livestock, so we had three sides of an old post and wire fence already finished. We would just need to fix up what was there and add another side to complete a nice paddock for the horses.

  Alex and Dad worked on clearing a space in the barn for the wagon and building a couple of stalls while Calvin and I took the four-wheeler and wagon into the woods to find trees to cut for fence posts. Dad had told us to look for cedars about five inches in diameter and seven or eight feet tall. We had to drive all over our sixty acres of woods to find enough cedars that fit the bill, but by the end of the day, we had cut and carried back nearly two dozen of them.

  The next day, we got to work setting the fence posts. Even with a tractor-powered auger, it was hard work, especially when we had to replace some of the old posts by first digging them up. There was a large spool of 12-gauge wire in the loft of the barn, which we were able to wrangle down between the four of us.

  We spent the entire third day stringing that wire between the posts of the new side of the fence and replacing downed wire along the old sides. The only thing left to do on the fourth day was to build and attach a gate to the pasture.

  That was the hardest four days of work we boys had ever had to do, but we all felt such a sense of accomplishment when we were finally able to let the horses loose in their new paddock. We stood and leaned against the gate just like in an old Western movie and watched the horses frolic around. Mom came out to watch them too and said, “There’s just something about watching horses that makes you feel really alive.”

  I had never just stood and watched horses before, even though several of my friends were avid horse lovers and they’d dragged me along to horse shows and rodeos with them. I was usually people-watching at those events and thought the horses were just big, sweaty, smelly creatures, but now, as I stood watching our horses stretch out their legs, running and jumping all over the paddock, I finally understood what my friends saw in them. It was as if God had rolled beauty and grace and power all up into one big package. They moved so effortlessly, but you could feel their raw strength and power through the ground as they galloped close by the gate.

  At that moment, I wanted more than anything in the world to have Skylar here, to let her experience what I was feeling, to share that sense of wonder and joy with her.

  Chapter 4

  It was around a month or so after PF Day (although we weren’t calling it that yet) that Mom decided we needed to cont
inue our schoolwork at home. She brought out all of the reading material in the house and asked us what textbooks we had at home. I had only brought home Geometry and World History. Calvin didn’t bring anything home; he always got his homework done at school. Like I said, he’s real smart.

  Alex protested that since he was a junior and had already completed all of his core requirements, he shouldn’t have to do school, so Mom told him to help Dad with the farm for the rest of his junior year credits. “It’ll be like going to a technical school,” she said. That didn’t make Alex too happy, but he knew better than to push his luck.

  Later, I overheard Mom talking to Dad about the need to go into town to pick up our textbooks from the school and get supplies. Dad didn’t think there’d be anything left at the grocery store or farm supply, but he was willing to hitch up the wagon to go see. I was ecstatic, of course. The chance to see Skylar again was a gift better than anything I could have thought of. It seemed like Christmas morning to me; I was that excited.

  I eagerly volunteered to help Dad get the horses and wagon ready, but Mom said, “No, that’s Alex’s assignment.” Alex frowned and grumbled a little, but he could hardly argue, since it was kind of his idea to not do regular schoolwork.

  We were on the road before nine in the morning. We probably resembled a pioneer family altogether in the wagon with the horses plodding along.

  Dad and Alex had loaded several big, plastic buckets with the three grains he had harvested a couple of months ago—corn, soybeans, and wheat—to trade for things we needed. Mom packed us a lunch in Great Grandma’s old wicker picnic basket, and we ate on the way. It was fun; we laughed and told jokes and stories, and then, after we ate, Calvin and Alex laid down in the back of the wagon for a little catnap.

  I was too excited to sleep, so I just daydreamed while Mom and Dad chatted about what they needed to try to get in town. On the way, we stopped by several neighbors’ houses to see if they needed anything, but all had pretty much taken care of things on their own. You see, farmers are an independent, self-reliant type of people, for the most part.

  It took us about four hours to get to town, so we knew we couldn’t stay very long if we wanted to get home before dark. It was going to be a full moon, though, so we knew we could probably travel in the dark if we needed to. Dad dropped Mom, Calvin, and me off at the school while he and Alex went to the square to find supplies.

  We found that the school was locked up tight, so we walked over to the superintendent’s house down the street. When Mom explained why she wanted in the school, the superintendent was more than happy to let us in. After we had gathered our textbooks and some reading books from the library, we walked to the town square to meet Dad and Alex.

  I was dying to see Skylar, so after stowing my books in the wagon, I asked if I could walk around on my own. Mom said that I could as long as I came back to the square in one hour. I took off at a run in the direction of the diner, which I could already tell was closed. Skylar and her parents lived down the block behind the diner, so I turned the corner at the restaurant and headed their way.

  When I knocked on their door and no one answered, I was dismayed and disappointed. Where could they have gone? It wasn’t as if they could just get in their car and go to the city or something. They had to be around town somewhere, maybe visiting a neighbor. I couldn’t just go door-to-door, asking everyone if they knew where Skylar was, and so I just started walking around town, up and down streets with my hands in my pockets and my hat pulled down over my ears against the December chill.

  After about ten minutes—ten agonizing minutes of knowing that my possible time with Skylar was ticking away by the second—I spotted her with a group of kids hanging out in front of Caleb Stein’s house. Try as I might, I couldn’t keep the huge grin off my face as I jogged over to them.

  “Bracken!” several of the girls squealed together.

  “Hey, Fern, where’ve you been?” Caleb asked jokingly when I reached them. Oh, how I wish I’d never let slip what my name really means. But now, I was just happy to be so readily welcomed, that I couldn’t care less what they called me. You see, I’ve never been the real popular type. I’m more the quiet, studious nerd type, but in a small town, where everyone has grown up together, I was never bullied or ostracized, just not the most sought-after friend either. But today, it seemed like I was the one everyone was excited to see. It was probably because they hadn’t seen me in such a long time—me being isolated out on the farm and all. Even Irvine, the stoner, spoke to me. He looked pale and haggard, his eyes like a couple of dull marbles set in a skull’s empty sockets.

  “Hey,” was all he said, but that was more than he usually said to me.

  “What’s been going on in town?” I asked, trying to surreptitiously maneuver myself over to Skylar’s side. To my delight and embarrassment, she grabbed my hand and pulled me close, looking up at me with a big smile on her beautiful face. It was really hard to concentrate on what any of my friends were saying with her being so close. Even though I was happy to see my friends, all I really wanted was to be alone with Skylar.

  The kids talked of life in town now—boring, but also sort of cool facing so many new challenges every day. Except that several of the older and sicker people in and around town had died despite the townspeople’s efforts to pull together and help everyone out.

  One boy, Bob Newton, uncharacteristically had tears in his eyes as he told about he and his family trying to save his grandma, who died while gasping for air after her oxygen tank had run out. Suddenly, I was worried about my grandparents. I made a mental note to bring them up to my parents when I got back to the wagon, just in case.

  I looked at my watch and noticed with dismay that I had only twenty minutes left before I had to get back. As if reading my thoughts, Skylar said to the group, “I’d better be getting home. My parents will worry if I’m not home before dark.” Her hand squeezed mine. “Brack, will you walk me home?”

  The way she said it told everyone that she wanted to be alone with me, and I was swept away by feelings of pride, acceptance, happiness, and something else—love? I was pleased that she had made up a nickname for me, something only she called me. I decided to start calling her Sky, which seemed particularly suitable to me since she reminded me of heavenly things. We said goodbye to everyone and Skylar gave each of the girls hugs while the guys patted me on the back and said, “Come back soon, man,” and other things like that, making me feel very important and welcome. So this must be how it feels to be popular. I could get used to this. Having a girlfriend and being accepted by the cool guys—nice!

  Skylar and I walked very slowly back to her house and stopped on the corner a few houses down the street under a huge oak tree. It was starting to get really cold with the sun going down, so Skylar cuddled up close to me and I put my arms around her. Then we started kissing. I won’t go into too much detail, but let me just say that “heavenly” does not even begin to describe it. For the first time in my life, I didn’t care that I’d be late or that I might get in trouble. This was definitely worth any amount of punishment I could receive.

  After a while, though, Skylar pulled away and said, with a sad little frown on her face—which looked adorable, by the way—that she had to get home and that I’d better be going too, so I wouldn’t get into trouble. It touched me that she was worried about me.

  “When will you be able to come back to town?” she asked, hopefully.

  “Maybe I can talk my parents into letting me take one of the horses and ride back here,” I answered with sudden inspiration. “I’m not too good at riding yet, but I’m learning.”

  “Oh, please do!” she exclaimed. “I want to learn to ride too. Jenny Garten said she’d teach me. Maybe we could go riding together sometime.”

  “That’d be great!” I grinned. “Maybe I can come back in a couple of days.”

  At that, Skylar kissed me deeply and reluctantly drew away to walk home. I stood and watched her until she ste
pped through her front doorway, stopping halfway to blow me a kiss and wave goodbye. I waved back, but she was already in the house. I wasn’t sure if her parents had returned yet or not, but thinking of parents, I looked at my watch and realized I was already ten minutes late getting back to the wagon, so I took off at a run to the town square, several blocks away.

  When I arrived, my Mom merely gave me a perturbed look before she softened, asking if I’d had a good time seeing my friends. The way she said it made me feel like she knew exactly whom I’d been with and what we’d been doing. But she seemed happy about it, pleased in a way, and I felt myself blush even though I was glad that Mom wasn’t upset about the situation.

  Alex was helping Dad finish up loading some buckets and sacks of stuff into the wagon, but Calvin didn’t get back until ten minutes later. Mom admonished him sternly, but didn’t say anything about a punishment. After all, what could she do: ground us, take away our video game time, find even more chores than what we were already doing?

  This new life had its advantages, even if I couldn’t see Skylar as much as I wanted. But if it hadn’t been for PF Day, Skylar and I probably would never have gotten together. Life is funny that way: sometimes the worst catastrophes can result in the best things.

  As we bumped along home in the wagon, I told Mom and Dad about the senior citizen deaths and my concerns about my grandparents. They grimly answered that they’d heard about them too, and that they had already decided to make a trip to get them and bring them to our house.

  Mom said we would have to think about where to put them, and that probably two of us boys would have to give up our rooms, but that was all right with me. Dad said that maybe we could fix up the basement for them and put that pot-bellied stove down there for warmth this winter. There was a toilet and a sink down there that would have to be enclosed with walls, but no tub for bathing. Not that we were able to have a full bath anyway. We were only able to heat a bucket-full of water and use a washcloth to wash ourselves.