Prepper Fiction Collection: Four Books in One

by Susan Gregersen

  “What a great surprise! Aren’t you out kinda late though, sonny? Your Mom won’t like that!” Uncle Horace said as he shuffled back into the family room and settled in his chair. “Sit down, sit down. It’s been a long time!” He sat back in his chair with a sigh of contentment.

  “Uncle Horace, we need to get home, but we have a problem. We need a car. Do you still have your car?” Carl asked.

  The old man furrowed his brow. “Well, they keep telling me it’s in for repairs, and they think I won’t remember that they told me that the week before, and the week before that. They’ve been telling me that since summer. I think they took it somewhere and hid it. Probably out at that scoundrel son of mine’s house.”

  “Oh,” said Carl in disappointment. It was probably a good thing. Uncle Horace had no business trying to drive a car, and Aunt Dora had never driven. “That’s okay. We’ll find a way home. So, how have you guys been? Did the kids make it here for Christmas?”

  “Whoa, wait a minute, sonny. Back up a bit. Didn’t say I don’t have transportation you can use!” Homer cackled. “How adventurous do you feel?”

  Everything imaginable flew through Carl’s mind. His uncle had been big into a lot of things: skiing, snowshoeing, canoeing, bicycling, motorcycles, etc.

  “Still got the snowcat!” he said triumphantly. “It’s out behind the shed, covered with a blanket and a tarp! No one thought of that when they were stripping me of my independence! Always figured I could make my escape on it if they try to civilize me too much!”

  “Wow! Do you think it would start?” Carl asked.

  “I reckon it would! I kept it in top-notch shape! Be kinda cold on a drive that long. We’ll need to bundle you two up more! Maybe give you a sleeping bag, too. Just the two of you, eh?” he asked, looking back and forth between them.

  “Yes, just us,” Darlene said.

  “Oh,” Horace said. He seemed disappointed. “Never had any kids? Sad.” He shook his head.

  “Uncle Horace, our kids are grown and married! We have two grandchildren!” Carl told him.

  “That so? Well! Congratulations!” he said brightly. “Now, why was I getting my coat?”

  “Snowcat, Uncle Horace,” said Carl.

  Uncle Horace handed them extra coats out of the back hall closet. They were extra large and fit nicely over the ones they were wearing. He pulled a box of hats and gloves off the shelf and pushed it at them. They dug through and found gloves that fit.

  “Gotta stop in the garage and get some gas cans,” Uncle Horace said. “I drained the gas when I parked it whenever the last winter was that they let me ride the thing!”

  He rummaged around behind the riding lawnmower in the garage and pushed two gas cans toward Carl, who picked them up and shook them slightly to see how much gas was in them. One was full, and the other was a little under half full.

  “How old is the gas, Uncle Horace?” Carl asked.

  “Oh, that’s this year’s gas, from mowing the lawn. It should be good.” He led the way out of the garage and shut off the light. Using flashlights they walked behind the shed. Uncle Horace waved at the shadowy object buried in the snow. Carl brushed some of the snow off and found the edge of the tarp. Darlene grabbed another corner and they shook it to shake off more of the snow, then pulled it over and off of the snowmobile. The blanket came off easily, and Darlene folded it up.

  “Take it with you. You might need it,” Uncle Horace said when she asked where to put it. She shoved it in the small cargo hatch behind the seat. “Give it a try, see if it starts.”

  “I think we should take you back in the house before we do. If it starts, we’ll take right off. I want to know that you’re safely inside the house when we leave,” Carl said. Uncle Horace protested but Carl and Darlene insisted. Finally the man relented and they walked back to the house with him.

  “Give me a call and let me know you made it,” he said. They agreed, knowing it might be hard to get a message to him, but they’d try. When he was sitting back in his chair they said good-bye and let themselves out the back door, locking it behind them and double-checking that the door was latched.

  Carl poured the gas into the snow machine’s tank while Darlene held the flashlight. They secured the daypacks to the bar around the back of the seat. Carl pulled the skis around to face the snowmobile toward the road that ran along the side of Uncle Horace’s property, then stood by the right side where the pull-cord was. He moved the choke to the “on” position, squeezed the throttle lever a couple times, then pulled the cord.

  The machine came to life with a roar, then settled into a contented purr. Carl and Darlene hugged and high-fived each other, but refrained from loud whooping! He got on first and Darlene sat behind him. Headlights on. Then, squeezing the throttle, they moved forward and onto the road.

  Carl kept the snowcat at a steady speed until they were past the last of the houses. Then he opened it up and they flew up the snow-covered road. They turned off on Upper Whitefish Road, which wasn’t plowed in the winter and they weren‘t likely to meet anyone. It traveled through miles of National Forest land, past a couple of lakes, and came out on the highway a few miles below the turn to their home.

  The snow became deeper as they climbed and by the top of the pass the snowcat was flying through powder as deep as their armpits. Darlene could have rested a hand on top of the bank on each side as she sat on the snowcat. It was snowing at the higher elevations and the falling flakes, illuminated by the headlight, gave a hypnotic effect that reminded Carl of sci-fi movies where they would ‘jump to light-speed’, a blur of stars coming toward them in a never-ending rush.

  The wind was cold and stung their cheeks. Carl slowed down as they descended the open slope on the other side of the pass, speeding up again when they were among the trees again, where it was more sheltered. Before long they came out by a lake, and around the lake they met the highway. He looked both directions and shot across it.

  They skirted another lake and went through a small village. Past that they turned on another dirt road and through the woods, coming out on the back side of their neighborhood. The first place they came to was Walter and Sue’s cabin. It was almost morning and a light was on. On a whim, Carl pulled into their yard.

  The porch light came on and Sue stepped out and looked intently at the snowmobile. Carl cut the motor and called “It’s us, Carl and Darlene”, so as not to frighten her. He saw a motion to his side and turned. Walter came out of the shadows behind them, shotgun in his arm. He’d come out the other door and was covering Sue as she came out to greet them.

  Darlene was almost bowled off the snowcat by Sue wrapping her in a hug. Carl stepped off and shook hands with Walter, who clasped his arm.

  “I can’t believe it! Oh! This is wonderful! Sue said joyously. “Come in and have some hot cocoa!”

  “We’re on our way home but I wondered about my parents. Did they make it home?” Carl asked.

  “Yes, they’re home, They came home right away. The military evacuated them all. Your son and his wife are over there, with the grandkids. Darlene’s brother and his wife, too. Everyone has been doing what they can to get the government to look into your whereabouts, and try to get you home,” Walter said.

  “They keep saying they don’t have the manpower to look for everyone who’s been reported missing, and we regular citizens haven’t been able to make phone calls. They shut down the internet as “a safety precaution” when rumors started spreading, or at least what they called rumors, to stop panic-buying and ward off rioting,” said Sue.

  “Was the rioting in Germany as bad as we heard, before they cut off the news?” Walter asked.

  “Worse!” Darlene said with a shudder.

  “Say, we wondered if you could try to call Dad on your Ham radio and let them know we’re coming. I don’t want to shock them, especially Mom. She’s probably not been doing too well with all of this,” said Carl.

  “Sure thing. Come on in.” Walter said. They s
tepped into the cabin and Walter picked up the mic and gave the call sign to reach Carl’s Dad. In moments they got a response.

  “You guys up yet?” Walter asked.

  “Yeah, whatcha need?” Carl’s Dad asked. “Everything okay at your place?”

  “Oh yeah, better than ever. You’ve got company coming your way in a minute. Some mangy looking folks that call themselves Carl and Darlene!” Walter said with a chuckle.

  What came back over the radio was mostly unintelligible with the excited shouting from all the folks in the background. Finally one voice came through above the other’s. “Tell that boy of mine that he’s grounded!” said Carl’s Mom.

  Both sides signed off. Walter and Sue followed them back out to the snowcat and said good-bye. They were relieved and happy that their good friends and neighbors were safe.

  Carl and Darlene rode the last mile and a half to their own cabin, where his parents and the rest of the family waited. They roared into the yard and shut off the motor.

  The gray of dawn was overtaking the Montana sky, and one star remained, as the two groups of people hurried to each other and hugged. The only sound was snow crunching under the feet of the small group of people standing next to the cabin. The dogs danced in the snow nearby.

  That’s how it all began, just a week ago, on a frosty morning just like this one. Then, it was dreams and hopes for a vacation of a lifetime, and now, dreams and hopes of just surviving.

  One thing was for sure. They planned to stay on THIS side of ‘the pond’, for now!

  THE END

  ,

  Twilight In The Desert

  By Susan Gregersen

  Copyright March 2011

  For those who have met the unexpected...

  and the unexplained!

  Part I

  Twilight in the Desert

  Fred nosed the uhaul truck down the sandy hill, through the loose gravel and out onto the rocky point. The water of Lake Mead spread out below them, the shoreline twisting and wandering between ridges and washes. He turned the truck around and parked on a flat spot, the rear door opening toward the view of the lake.

  The uhaul had been converted to a camper. It was February, and Fred and his wife, Wilma, had come down for a couple months to get out of the cold winter of the north. They didn’t seek out the parking-lot style RV parks, choosing instead to be in the wilderness. They had become familiar with the gravel roads that led them to remote camping sites.

  “How’s this?” asked Fred. “Do you like the angle?” They emerged from the truck on each side, and Wilma walked around the back of the uhaul. She looked in all directions, then smiled and nodded her head.

  They settled in, putting out lawn chairs, and unloading the motorcycle and bicycles from the trailer. The dog run in circles around everything, happy to be outside romping in the sand. The sun was about to sink behind the ridge so they cooked a quick dinner, then sank into their lawn chairs to watch the stars come out.

  The city of Las Vegas was 50 miles away, over the ridge to their west. An endless line of airplanes waiting to land there spread across the desert sky in a line to the northeast. They turned their landing lights on over Lake Mead but had to keep their altitude up to make it over the ridge between the lake and Las Vegas.

  Across the lake, to the west, lived a band of wild burros. their braying could be heard in the distance, the sound carrying across the water. Now and then a fish hit the surface, making a rippling sound, and there were the soft calls of birds settling in for the night. Other than that, the desert night was silent.

  “Ahhh, it’s good to be here. It seems like the drive gets longer every year!” said Fred.

  “I know what you mean. Colder, too. But at last, we’re here!” Wilma sighed and leaned her head back. A shadow flitted over them, against the stars. A bat, probably, or some small night bird.

  For a few days, the weather was sunny and in the 60’s. They rode bicycles to some of their favorite places in the area, including a hidden hot spring, and they hiked over the nearby hills and up the washes. They sat in the sun and soaked up the warmth. One day they rode the motorcycle to a small town 15 miles away and used the internet at the library to send emails to their kids and friends.

  “Hmph. Rain’s coming Friday, and wind just ahead of it. Guess we’ll have to batten down the hatches!” Fred said, listening to their weather radio. It was Wednesday. They washed all the dishes and the laundry, then hung the laundry on a line they strung from the uhaul-camper to their folding picnic table. They made sure everything outside was picked up and placed under the uhaul.

  It was pleasant that evening, so they made a campfire and cooked hot dogs. They sat nearby, looking at the sky. No sign of clouds yet. Before going to bed they folded their lawn chairs and slid them under the uhaul next to the other things.

  During the night the uhaul-camper shook, rocking as the wind pummeled it. That’s how it worked in the desert. One minute it’s calm, the next minute the wind is trying to peel everything off the surface of the earth. Wilma woke and gave a quick look around the camper to make sure all was okay, and went back to sleep. The dog, sleeping just inside the door, edged farther into the camper, away from the door, burying her nose in her paws and went back to sleep.

  In the morning they woke to the sharp patter of raindrops splatting on the roof. The wind nearly tore the door from the uhaul when they opened it. When they’d converted the uhaul to a camper they had removed the original door that filled the back opening, and built a wall with a camper door in the middle.

  “Well, it’s a good day to stay inside and read!” Fred said while Wilma cooked breakfast. Over the summer they’d filled their Kindles with books from Amazon, as well as buying a few “print” books at yard sales, planning ahead for winter.

  All day it rained. They stood up and marched in place and walked back and forth in the small space from time to time to get their blood circulating, but otherwise spent the day reading or cooking and eating meals.

  The next day it rained, too. One wouldn’t think it would rain so much in the desert, but at some times of the year, it could rain steadily for days. It’s not the kind of rain that creates the violent flash floods of summer thunderstorms, but the slow kind that makes the soft claylike sand and gravel of the desert impassable.

  “We aren’t getting out to town any time soon!” said Fred as he took off his boots by the door. They were caked with the desert clay, which sets like cement and takes work or a lot of walking to get off.

  “Well, we’re pretty well set with everything we need for a long time!” Wilma said cheerily. They had come prepared with enough food to last for weeks. They brought along a solar panel, a deep-cycle battery, and a small inverter for electricity to power a couple of lights, a netbook computer, and a small DVD player. They were used to being self-reliant.

  Finally the sun came out and dried everything. Fred and Wilma spent a day basking in the sun and taking care of camp chores like washing dishes, shaking out the rugs and sweeping the camper floor. They cooked over a campfire, happy to be outside. In the evening they sat watching the sky. The moon was nearly full and the desert was visible in it’s light.

  “That’s odd!” Wilma said suddenly. Fred looked over at her questioningly. She went on.

  “The sky isn’t glowing over there on the ridge where Las Vegas is!”

  It was true. The sky was the same pale gray of the night sky all along the ridge. Usually it was lit with an orange glow from the city lights.

  “Maybe the power is off over there from the storm. Something else is weird. I just noticed there aren’t any airplanes coming or going. Must have been something big. I guess I’ll get the radio and see if they’re saying anything about it!” Fred got up and headed for the uhaul.

  He came back with the portable radio and turned on the dial. As he scrolled through the stations they only heard static and the far-off rambling of unintelligible voices.

  “That’s odd. There should at le
ast be something from the emergency broadcast system!” Fred turned the radio off and they sat there in silence. The dog, sensing something disturbing, walked over and laid it’s chin on Fred’s knee. He absently patted the dog’s head.

  “Well, I don’t know what to make of it. I guess we should go to town in the morning and see if we can find out what’s going on.” Wilma nodded her head in agreement.

  In the morning Wilma cooked French toast and bacon for breakfast. Then they shrugged into their leather jackets, and headed off to town on the motorcycle. They drove a few miles up the dirt road, which was still somewhat soft from the recent rain, and turned north on the highway to town.

  Ten miles up the road they topped the hill high above town and looked out across the little valley and it’s scattering of towns. It was a comforting site to see the roofs of buildings in the distance. They headed down the hill and a few miles later they were riding into town. The parking lot of the grocery store and nearby restaurants and the hardware store were half-filled with cars. There were also cars parked on the street in front of other businesses. Nothing seemed to be stirring though. Nothing moved and no one was in sight.