Our End Of The Lake: Surviving After The 2012 Solar Storm (Prepper Trilogy)

by Ron Foster

  “So we just pull back and forth to bring the fish in huh, that’s neat.” said Sue grasping the concept.

  We got the line baited and the rig set up and proceeded back to the table.

  “Unless you got some light gauge wire, I need you to sacrifice one of your lamp cords.” I said to Sue.

  “What are you going to make now, Dave?” she said draining the last of the bottle of wine into our glasses.

  “You might as well learn this trick too or you’re going to get awfully tired of fish for supper.” and began explaining about snares, as Randy returned with a lamp cord and a pair of wire strippers.

  “If we catch some fish tonight after the line soaks for awhile, when we clean them we can use the guts for a bait pile and you can set snares for a Raccoon or a possum or something.” I began before Sue interrupted me.

  “But we got canned food, and I am not going to eat a possum!” she said adamantly.

  “Well, suit yourself, that’s the trick anyway, if you ever need it. I suggest though you don’t wait to run out of food before you try it.” I said pointedly.

  “Well, I bet these houses around here have some food in them.” she said looking about.

  “Perhaps, you know about lake cabins, some people have supplies and some don’t even stock a can of beans. Be sure to boil your water and don’t trust that lake.” I said looking up at her.

  “David, can you explain a bit more about that ‘Carrington Event’ thing again?” Randy asked and I proceeded for the umpteenth time to cover the basics I knew, as my audience huddled together. We checked the lines and got three good fish and Sue fried them up in cornmeal for us and we had dinner by kerosene lamp light.

  Shots rang out from across the lake and somebody was yelling something, we could not make out and then it went quiet. It’s amazing how sound travels across the lake at night and we couldn’t make out where the noises had came from.

  “You got anything for protection, Randy?” I got around to asking.

  “I ain’t got shit.” he said miserably

  “Then I would start breaking into houses tomorrow to see if you get lucky enough to find something and start carrying that fish knife you had out earlier.” I suggested.

  “You know how to use a gun?” I asked

  “I shot a friend’s once or twice, but no, not really.” he replied.

  I spent the next half hour or so telling him the basics of how different types of guns worked, in case he got lucky enough to find one. I also advised them to always try and stick together and not get to separated when they were doing fishing or scavenging.

  “How did you estimate when Sundown was earlier, Dave?” Sue said cleaning up the dishes. “I haven’t been able to figure how close that was for days after our watches stopped.” she said while moving around with a flashlight.

  “Well, for whatever reason mine’s still working, but there is another way of doing it. How much time left before sundown? Hold out your hands in front of you at arms' length and, with the edge of a palm lined up at the horizon; see how many fingers you can fit between the horizon and the position of the Sun in the sky. Each finger width represents about 15 minutes.” I said sitting back and watching the moonlight shimmer on the lake.

  “I got to try that tomorrow.” Randy said turning towards Sue. “We got anymore wine left?” he asked her.

  “Well, one bottle but maybe we ought to save it?” She replied.

  “To Hell with that, let’s drink it now. Old Murphy’s house has a full bar in it over there and I am paying that house a visit tomorrow.” he said.

  Well, ok.” and she rose to go get it.

  “Randy, a lot of these places have firewood stored around them, I would gather up all I could before winter, as a suggestion.” I said offering my glass for a refill of the wine that suddenly didn’t taste so bad to me.

  “I better grab it before someone else does huh.” he said watching the lake.

  “Well, I am heading to bed soon, might as well tell you all good bye before morning, I will be setting out pretty early to go see if my friends are up here or not.” I informed them.

  “If they’re not there, you’re welcome back here, Dave.” Sue said in her most neighborly voice.

  “I appreciate it, but if they’re not there, I will be heading for Montgomery next.” I replied wondering what the tomorrow would bring.

  “We will get up and see you off or maybe we can have breakfast and check the trotline in the morning?” Randy said hopefully and fidgeting with his wine glass.

  “I will be waking up with the sun, if you hear the tractor fire up and want to make the effort of seeing me off, fine but after the trip you all had I suspect you will want to stay in bed awhile longer.” I said contemplating a buggy night about to be spent in a hammock.

  “You got any mosquito repellant?” I asked of Sue.

  “Oh, come inside and be comfortable in your own bed, Dave. I am just not used to having strangers and you’re a nice guy, so you’re welcome to the spare room, if you like.” she said good-naturedly.

  “I will take you up on that, sounds much better than semi roughing it, thanks.” We sat around a bit longer and she showed me to my room. We said our good nights and I sank down into the soft bed without even taking my clothes off and fell fast asleep.

  I saw the sun begin peeping in between the blinds, as I woke up bleary eyed and thirsty. I tip toed past the closed door of my hosts’ bedroom and found a bottle of water in Randy’s ice chest. I almost didn’t take it; I felt I was committing the ultimate sin by doing so. Funny, how our concepts of value changes under circumstances like these. Hell, they got a whole lake and all day to boil water, it’s not like I was leaving them without something, I reassured myself and slipped out the door.

  Ok, you old oil drinking machine, I said as I checked the dip stick and added my last two quarts of 40 weight oil. Damn thing is probably going to get temperamental about starting now to. Hang on, I better check my gas. I am getting pretty low. I think one of these boats around here has what I want. And I wandered over to the neighbor’s. The boat had two cans full of gas, but no oil on board. They probably had some in that shed, but I didn’t want to make a bunch of noise busting in, so I just carried the cans back and refilled the tractor. Randy came outside mid process and said good morning.

  “You got any oil I can have?” I asked

  “Yeah, I got a few quarts.” he said turned to go get them, as I stowed the cans on the back of the trailer.

  “Borrowed some gas, huh. You get that off my boat?” he asked uncaringly.

  “No, I confiscated your neighbor’s, you can tell them it was me if they show up, if you want.” I said in my best smart ass manner and started going through the procedure of starting my steel mule.

  “ Ok, they can put out a APB on a guy on a tractor wearing suit pants and dress shoes,” he guffawed and then added “I will tell them your name was Oliver Wendell Douglas.” he said making aspersions to the lead in TV. series Green Acres.

  “Good one.” I said grinning and extending my hand. “Good bye, Randy, tell Sue goodbye for me and thank her for the use of the bed.” I said looking towards the house.

  “She is out like a light, but I will tell her.” he said shaking my hand.

  “I guess we need to watch that expression now, Randy.” I said looking bemused.

  “Oh, yeah. Right.” Randy said a bit worriedly.

  “Stay safe.” I said while warming up the tractor.

  “I will try.” he said waving as I put it in gear and began to rumble of with the trailer clattering behind me.

  I glanced at his neighbor’s houses as I chugged down the access road. Nobody to home, it looked like, but who could tell with cars and lights not being visible. Ah, I thought it’s the houses with cars that are at home obviously, but empty driveways not necessarily and reminded myself to stay cautious.

  I am considering losing this trailer; these narrow roads are making me think it’s sort of imprac
tical. Those look like wild turkeys on side of the road up ahead. Yes that’s what they are; the birds started slowly moving to cover as I got closer.

  You always see a lot of game on these roads coming up here. Me and my ex girlfriend Sherry counted 8 deer just in one weekend coming up here. I don’t think they will be so tame, as soon as people start hunting them for food again, instead of just for recreation.

  I hear a chainsaw off in the distance, see life goes on. This situation is really bad, but not as bad as most people will think it is. We are not totally back to the 1800s yet. A lot of stuff still works by design or lucky chance; it’s just going to take a lot of getting used to.

  Right now everyone is feeling the ‘cascading effect’ of an EMP event. If electrical power is knocked out and circuit boards fried, telecommunications are disrupted, energy deliveries are impeded, the financial system breaks down, and then food, water and gasoline become scarce. It is the being ready for this sort of thing and not panicking, that I have been preaching for years.

  Even if people were not heeding the Sun’s warning signs NASA was monitoring, just taking an all hazards approach and preparing for something like a hurricane would help prepare them for something like this.

  The government, all though it hasn’t done a lot of EMP planning, has done some and has hardened a lot of its strategic and tactical communications systems. The phone company and the government have the emergency communication system beefed up to handle this, somewhat; but I remember from my studies, even though they have special concrete bunkers housing emergency communication equipment, they made sure to leave it unplugged just in case.

  I am not sure exactly what we got hit with, if I can find an undamaged AM radio, maybe I can get some news. I know we have hardened transmitters for such, but who knows if the operators could get to work that day. That’s the problem with planning for this sort of thing, too many what ifs and a government that doesn’t like to think outside of the box.

  .The private sector owns and operates a large majority of our critical infrastructures and key assets, but most haven’t spent the money to prepare for anything like this, although the threat has been known for years.

  I see my turn off ahead to get to Jenny’s cabin and start slowing down for it. There are not too many houses on this point and several vacant lots still available that not too many people want, so it is a short drive down the access road.

  I do not see any vehicles; they probably were not even close to here. I walk up to the door, knock, and holler hello. Nothing, just silence. I am considering going down to the lake to have a wash up before I carry on, when I hear, ‘Hello!’ and see a short old man walking towards the yard.

  “Hi. I see Jenny and Lyle are not at home.” I said careful to say I knew the couple, because cabin owners look out for each other, and also because he looked to be wearing an old Ruger hog leg pistol on his belt.

  “Nope. Name’s Bernie.” he said relaxing and going into friendly lake neighbor mode.

  “Mine’s David. I was just coming by to check on them.” I replied.

  “I haven’t seen anyone for over a week, except that neighbor across the slew over there.” he said gesturing at the large brick house about 200 yards across the finger of the lake.

  “Donnie is a retired weather man, he bicycled his way over here a day or so ago and explained to me what he thought had happened.” Bernie said looking towards his house.

  “I bet you didn’t know anything happened for a day or two.” I said knowingly.

  “I thought the power was just out, but I did notice the lack of boat traffic on the lake and wondered what was up.” Bernie said looking at my old tractor.

  “You like my old heap, it’s ugly and noisy as hell, but so far it’s been a good ol’ work horse.” I said while moving towards some shade.

  “I used to have one similar back on my Daddy’s farm, they are pretty dependable.” he replied and joined me in the shade.

  “I see you might be expecting trouble.” I said motioning towards his holstered weapon.

  “I am not sure what’s going on, I heard a lot of gunfire last night and I figured better safe than sorry. So I grabbed my old .357. I like this old single action, the sights are big enough for me to see.” He said taking it out and replacing it rather quickly.

  “I have a Blackhawk too, is that the 9mm/357 combo or just .357 model?” I asked looking down at the handle sticking out of the worn holster.

  “It is just .357, I couldn’t find one of the 357/9mm combo ones with extra cylinder when I was looking.” he replied.

  “I was about to start making me some lunch, would you care to join me?” Bernie said looking me over.

  “I don’t want to impose.” I said not wanting to be offered more fish again and trying to possibly decline the offer.

  “I got flapjacks and spam.” he said as if it was the biggest delicacy in the world.

  “Hey, sounds good, I appreciate it.” I replied following him back towards his cabin.

  “I got coffee, too.” he chirped opening his screen door to his house.

  “You just made my day!” I laughed and followed him into his kitchen.

  He had a Camp Chef outdoor camp oven perched on his regular electric stove and had it hooked to a big tank of propane instead of a canister.

  “I always wanted one of those.” I said admiring it.

  “She works great.” he said taking a old granite ware coffee percolator off the top and getting an extra cup out of his cupboard for me.

  “Real coffee?” I exclaimed in anticipation and looking big eyed.

  “I don’t like instant, if you want sugar or canned creamer I got that.” looking at me questionably.

  “Black is fine.” I said receiving my mug and relishing its aroma as he sat down with me at the kitchen table.

  “You going to stay at Jenny’s awhile?” he said taking a sip out of his cup.

  “No, I am headed to Montgomery, but I think I will drop that trailer over there.” I said looking across the table.

  “I heard that thing rattling all the way down the drive. Might be a good idea if you trying to travel faster or quieter.” he remarked looking out on the lake.

  We talked about my trip in from Atlanta and what conditions of the roads were in, while he puttered around the kitchen putting together a meal for us. I asked him which roads he suggested, because I did not really want to have to drive all the way through the middle of the small town Tallassee to get back on the interstate, in case someone decided they wanted to take my trusty old ride.

  “Well, you can go back down the way you came in and just head due south, when you get a chance.” Bernie offered in between bites of one of the best meals I’d had in a while.

  “I always get turned around up here. Which way is South from here that skirts the towns?” I complained.

  “If you got a watch, I’ll teach you a neat trick.” he said nodding in affirmation and carrying on after I held mine up.

  “It’s called orienting by watch: Hold the watch level, point the hour hand at the sun. South is midway between the hour hand and #12 in the smallest angle.” He said demonstrating

  “That’s a useful thing to know thanks.” I said trying it out for myself.

  “Hey, David, you could do me a favor since you’re headed that way. I got a friend I want you tell I am ‘doing ok’ if you would.” While watching me, but already reassured I would stop on my way.

  “His name is Roland Stiles. He has a horse farm about 10 miles from the interstate and he will show his appreciation for you stopping to tell him I’m okay.” he said, meaning there could be a reward in doing it for him.

  “He doesn’t happen to have kin in Newnan named Philburn Stiles does he?” I inquired.

  “He sure does, you know Philburn?” he asked excitedly and gazed at me intently.

  “I just met him about three days ago.” I laughed and carried on. “Boy, do I have a story for you!” I replied draining my cup and startin
g to gather up the dishes.

  “Those dishes can wait; I want to hear about how you come to know that old skin flint uncle of Roland’s. Lets go down to the dock, where it’s cooler.” he said and pushed his chair back and lead the way.

  “Well, he is not so tight fisted anymore.” I replied and commenced to tell him how I acquired the tractor and how Philburn had to ride home on the back of an ugly purple girls bicycle.

  “Ha! Ha! HA! That is the funniest shit I have heard in a long time. I need a beer after that. You want one?” He said pulling a burlap bag up by a rope that was soaking in the water at the edge of his pier. “I can’t wait to hear about the look on Roland’s face when you tell him that story.” Bernie said chuckling and handing me a beer

  “So that’s my tractor story.” I declared and popped the top on a semi cool can of refreshment.

  “I don’t know Ray, but if I ever get to see him, I sure want to shake his hand for getting one over on ol Papa Stiles.” Bernie said still sniggering and looking towards the tractor we had been discussing.

  “What do you want me to tell Roland when I see him?” I asked, turning back towards Bernie and enjoying the lake view once more.

  “Tell him, if he can, to check on me come Christmas, I would be obliged, if he don’t get by before then. Come to think of it, tell him late fall might be good, I don’t have any wood cut for winter and I will probably be burning whatever I can get in order to get by.” he said reconsidering and growing silent.

  “I saw a house around the bend with about half a cord stacked up. If no one’s to home I will transfer it here, if you want.” I offered, wanting to repay his kindness of food and libations.

  “Which one, that old blue house with the green looking shutters you say? Those folks live in Birmingham; they hardly ever make it down. I would dang sure be obliged if you would David. I won’t be much help cause of my high blood pressure, but I will help you to get it.” He said looking very grateful.

  “You just enjoy the hay ride up and back. If anyone is around to object, I want a local to explain what it is we’re doing and I would like the presence of that old hog leg of yours around, too, if I run into any trouble.” I said while sucking the bottom out of the can.