Bug Out Boat Survival: The Post Apocalyptic Survival Trailer Pod (Aftermath Survival Book 3)

by Ron Foster

  “From the sound of your voice you are still having reservations about dragging all this stuff with us it sounds like.”

  “Well that’s true; I am of the mind of being minimalist and getting there quicker. It’s all in the destination thing and as you know we are pretty much in the dark on all of that. Where the hell we eventually end up at is speculation at best and pretty damn crazy and dangerous to speculate on. Those big cattle farms near the river are probably carrying on as usual but the majority of them and their pastures are far back from the water. The folks living in small houses along the river know where they are and will do the neighborly community thing of trying to work something out with them for some beef. The big farms have their own gas that they can share with the community or not. A lot of those houses have generators that they will be running only as needed and that probably includes charging trolling motors. People are going to be surviving; they are going to be fishing, hunting, gardening and just generally getting by. Hell I bet they are not done even putting a good dent in the feral hog population around here. Thing is, they won’t be out here 4 wheeling it as long as they have gas and the deer and everything else with fur will be skittish and running for deeper cover and the swamps. The likely hood for a man or woman to catch a fish everyday or shoot a deer or a possum as you know can be chancy at best so everyone will have a bunch of extra notches in their belts these days.

  I take back that possum statement, I remember the folks in Vernon Florida erected a monument to that marsupial because eating them got them through the great depression. Turpentine and logging was their mainstay back then and there were no markets. They even have a Possum Festival every year in remembrance as well as an economic shot in the arm for the community as the locals and tourists flock to it the early part of August every year. Problem is I bet 99% of the folks don’t know how to catch one themselves. Lots of turkey hunters, deer hunters as well as hunters of other critters but the tags during the season don’t get all filled and the counties in NW Florida are the least populated or developed of anywhere in Florida and the adjoining states. That fact alone put them 110 % ahead of those that had tried to bug out of the cities to known undeveloped woodland etc. with the rest of the herd trying the same thing. One had to understand also the people living close to the river generally had some knowledge of survival and had a means of obtaining food from the water or woods. They would continue to exist much longer than others but their lives would also be dictated by the times of the hunt, foraging, or gardening and be in the shade or indoors during the heat of the day. Not knowing the river made travel by night too hazardous for Sam and Lori. They both wished they had consulted their Farmers Almanac for the most auspicious day to embark on this river ride and had made observations of when it was the full moon and general weather predictions.

  Sam’s fishing barometer could give him some indications to weather patterns but it was mostly looking at the sky and using old wisdom that told them whether it would rain or not. People would be out fishing late mornings and at dusk; that was a given. Most would retreat from the hot noon day sun to attend to other matters best performed by doing very little and resting. The night could and should be used for some hunting practices but it was turn back the clock time on society and early to bed and early to rise ruled. In this type of society, history tells us that people start doing the first sleep second sleep thing and are awake at midnight or whatever visiting neighbors, doing small chores or having a different meal if they had any food left that describes this sort of life. Do some research on Google on this phenomenon and see also how it was an integral accepted way of life documented from the Middle Ages on. AUTHORS NOTE

  Sam and Lori took some solace in knowing whoever they met now had already lived through the hardest times and that the term survivor genuinely applied to them as resourceful and practiced food and foraging gatherers. The desperation to just take food or goods was not the same as others who had not made it through this calamity. People would be wary but would be more apt to guardedly want to know more about strangers and fellow survivors in hopes of news that could help them lead a better life.

  Boaters in modern society unlike worker ant city commuters practiced decency, morals and an unerring sense of responsibility to help other boaters out in distress during the best of times. We have street gang thugs well practiced in their nefarious arts of taking advantage of those weaker than them, the fringes of biker society have their own codes but Sam didn’t know of any pirate boat gangs forming up like pirates of old when the electricity still flowed except in third world countries like Somalia that decided to be an international problem, certainly not here in the deep south. Oh he had no doubt that such a lifestyle would appeal to some lawless people but where was the profit in it except for food? If you stole someone’s Yacht, yea you would have a better ride but what would that get you by risking a belly full of buckshot or worse? A few more meals, a boat that would soon run out of gas, a risk that might not be worth it.

  Sam and Lori certainly didn’t look like they were worth it in their opinion. Wasn’t like they were transporting the Swedish bikini team for the perverts to chance and they weren’t driving the Oscar Myer Weiner mobile around Chicago the day the food stamps quit working. No they were just a gray haired couple going down the river with a shotgun next to the man handling the tiller and a determined but smiling hair blowing in the wind graying 50 plus woman with one of those scoped black rifles in the bow of the boat that said she had the capability like Ma Bell to reach out and touch someone with a hot piece of lead.

  Yea towing the trailer was funky and all the seen and unseen eyes that had followed them so far wondered what in the hell them two old river rats were up to but noted it didn’t seem worth it to inquire.

  The few boaters they passed they had just slowed the boat for a bit and hollered ‘Hey’ or ‘Ahoy!’ to and kept moving and being watchful. Didn’t seem they had any thoughts of stopping and the couple of fisherman they had snuck up on anchored because their trolling motor was so quietly breaking the water that they didn’t hear them approach, seemed more surprised and scared than they were.

  Lori would holler out “Catching anything?” while cradling loosely her Aero Survival Rifle in 9mm.

  Usually it was a brief guarded reply that came back but friendly just the same. Most people weren’t even evidencing weapons, just fishing, but Sam felt sure if they had one it was in the boat somewhere.

  Lots of people if they had the means would be trying to surprise a deer or other game on the river bank as they passed. Better luck could be had catching the animals coming to specific known points early morning and at dusk to drink water.

  One fisherman they had passed asked them if they had got themselves a deer commenting on and indicating the tarp covered raft bobbing in back of them and Lori manning the bow with her rifle.

  “No, haven’t seen any today yet, just heading to our fish camp.” Lori had called back and Sam had sped up the motor to continue to carry them on their way. After the man had tried to keep the conversation going by asking if they had any food to sell and was answered with “No, did he have any?” and being answered with the same “Sorry but no.”, the tow parties parted ways with apologies and no more explanations as they both speculated on the status of each other’s honesty in reference to any extra morsels to eat.

  These few encounters they had encouraged them that people were still people regardless and that hopefully it would be same where they were going. Fear of tomorrow and fear of people were what they were hopefully leaving behind. They were by no means over that, nor were they entertaining any grandiose Disney land ideas that life where they were going wouldn’t have its own dangers. No, it was the reduced desperation level of those they met; you could hear it in their voices and see it in their eyes. They were eating somewhat regular, well not starving anyway and life was going on. They recognized the same in Lori and Sam, they were survivors, refugees with their own stories to tell, walking or boating th
e same path, road s or trails and not wanting to be bothered or bothering anybody. Live and let live as it were. Sam figured most people still getting by in this world felt the same, oh he had no doubts there were still plenty of bad people left in this world that might wish them ill or want their stuff but he wasn’t going to sweat them. He and Lori would hopefully keep any temptation that they were an easy mark to molest down and be as civil as they could when dealing with others. Part of the removing temptation of others was their open carry of firearms.

  No telling though these days if someone was out just hunting, trying to protect themselves etc. unless they made a move and being comfortable around other people being armed was a common thing for them. Still in all even if they didn’t look like imposing characters it would have been a very desperate and foolish person that took the risk of Sam opening up with a shotgun or AR and Lori could unleash 30 rounds of plus P 9mm ball ammo or hollow points in their direction that the length of the barrel on her carbine boosted the power of. The two of them were more than an adequate deterrent and anything they couldn’t fend off just by show they probably wouldn’t have survived anyway by getting in a short range firefight with.

  Sam had studied the internet for just the right pistol caliber carbine for her and was amazed at how useful this weapon possibly could be because of its convertible caliber feature. They had lots of ammo with them but not near what they had left at home. This didn’t matter to Sam much because he didn’t foresee any zombie apocalypse firefight they were unlikely to survive anyway in the near future needing more than they had. Truth be told he wished he had more .22 to have lots of extra for practice with to use in the Henry Survival rifles and hunt with but that 9mm rifle of Lori’s was as technology cutting edge as his Tetra Pod boat.

  Lori had a rifle that in different configurations was multi caliber. It could serve where nothing else could approach the task and remain versatile but strong and dependable just like the boat they had staked their lives on bugging out with.

  Sam had a Sig 220 in .45 caliber the modern SIG SAUER® pistol story began with the P220®. In 1976 the .45 ACP P220 was introduced and quickly became recognized as one of "the most accurate 45s right out of the box: He carried an Astra A-100 the same as she did for interchangeability but with a shoulder harness under a winter jacket it was his old standby for an attitude adjuster with the punch when he had to go to areas where he wanted to take along something more substantial than his little .380 pocket rocket when it might be up close and personal with some gorilla that didn’t want to play nice. On the range at distance he also had built up his own confidence and skills with the weapon. It was an extension of his hand and he had the balls and the accuracy to think he would win with 230 grains of whoop ass if some sideways pointing spray and pray idiot commenced to popping caps that he could put an end to it quickly with one well placed shot from that well known caliber man stopper.

  Sam before reading, doggedly researching and evaluating customer feedback on the Aero Survival rifle had been hesitant in its one size fits all uniqueness. Normally a tool meant for many tasks does not do one well and you sacrifice in possessing such to get a task done. Not so with that fine offering by TNW Fire Arms, with it they extended their defensive and offensive profiles by being able to adapt to a wide range of possible ammunition they had on hand or could acquire. For example, most cops seemed to be carrying 40 cal these days in the area they were both going to and coming from and they themselves had nothing in this caliber except that rifle. 357 sig and 10mm was a rarity but the FBI and CIA types seem to favor it for knockdown power and it was a rarity that might also come up in a barter market and become available if someone was trading and wanting a more common caliber. This robust rifle could shoot it all and do it with style and accuracy. Normally they might have left the whole lightweight package of different caliber barrels and accessories at home but it definitely had its place in their outfit when facing uncertainty. Particularly with Sam who could use his .45 with it as a backup in an effective and sought after pistol rifle combo in a common caliber as well as many others.

  If folks were surviving out here day to day on the river they had learned just like animals in the wild do that the risk of getting hurt themselves was to be avoided at all costs and even territorial disputes were best resolved at the growling and snarling point versus actual conflict that might leave one or both of them injured and unable to hunt.

  Dealing with pirate types on open water made no sense for either side these days.

  .

  11

  GETTING CLOSE

  “We drove the Indians out of the land,

  But a dire revenge those Redmen planned,

  For they fastened a name to every nook,

  And every boy with a spelling book

  Will have to toil till his hair turns gray

  Before he can spell them the proper way.”

  —Eva March Tappan (1854–1930)

  Choctawhatchee" means river of the Choctaw, from one of the original Indian groups in the area. The river originates in Alabama and flows 170 miles to Choctawhatchee Bay, which empties into the Gulf of Mexico at Destin

  Most of the area consists of floodplain forests with access primarily by boat and there are numerous boat landings along the river and along Holmes Creek. The Choctawhatchee River flows approximately 96 miles from the Alabama state line into Choctawhatchee Bay

  . Because the river is prone to flooding several times a year, paddlers must be diligent in checking weather forecasts and water levels prior to embarking on a trip. The river is mostly undeveloped and camping options are limited to the amount of available exposed sand bars that shift and change after each flood. The river is also absent of state parks or hiking trails, the lower section of the Choctawhatchee can become confusing so it is best to do so with the aid of a guide or GPS.

  Sam and Lori had none of the above when it came to navigation aids. The only map that they had was a state road map because getting waterway maps this far down had not been in their prepping plans. This oversight had already caused them several problems here and there but they had been able to figure out roughly where they were at previously by looking at landmarks and comparing them to the map. They had always used this route to bug out on but it had always been regarded as something of the nature of Plan D versus their primary means of surviving a chaotic event like this. They would soon be paying the price as numerous tributaries, small rivers and creeks, began to confuse them in their travels.

  Sam wished he had learned more about old navigation methods such as the Norse or Polynesian view to determine if certain currents indicated islands or land in the distance as well as navigate bays and harbors. Sam supposed that such methodology could be used for things flowing out as well as flowing in when it came to currents or unknown water features but he hadn’t and he was looking for a convergence of colors in the water indicating tannins or silt to help him try to identify a waterway source. Observing the tide also could give him some indications of direction. He wished he had a tide table and mentioned to Lori that’s one reason they still had an old wind-up alarm clock that they had been keeping up with in case her watch stopped because of needing a battery or something. Sam himself did not wear a watch but wasn’t too bad mentally estimating the time. But when it came to navigation or time tables, you had to know exactly what time it was and thus his solution was his old alarm clock that he begrudgingly wound up every evening.

  He had explained to Lori on more than one occasion how onerous this chore was because in their environment bugging out of the modern world time shouldn’t really matter, right? He also had claimed he didn’t like to be a clock watcher or when it came to dates he usually had to refer to his computer or paper wall mounted calendar to tell you what day it was. But now Lori took over the task of marking off the days on that same calendar and figuring out how it would be used next year when it was out of date.

  How many people do you think living today could actually even tel
l you what month it was let alone what day of the month it was? Lori and Sam weren’t even sure of exactly what day it was as they had guesstimated on which particular day this event had roughly happened on. Except for bill paying days, they had rarely kept up with the months except as needed. To think now that their whole future depended on this silly plastic wind-up Westclox Alarm clock to know the best times to fish or navigate waterways was one piece of technology Sam had really not considered much until the grid was actually well down. Thankfully, Lori’s watch was still working and as far as they knew, the old vestige of society wind-up clock was keeping the correct time.

  The Tetra Pod trailer was still bob, bob bobbing along behind the Boat and being both cussed and blessed as they proceeded along. Several times along the journey, Sam had threatened to try to stash it alongside the river somewhere and come back later to get the supplies. Lori had threatened to cut it loose more than once when it had grabbed a snag or got beached when it had meandered off course or drifted into brush like a magnet causing her to get a jolt in the front of the boat that threatened to toss her end-over-teacups over the bow! The thing essentially slowed down their progress and was quite troublesome but it had too much precious food and gear on it to just be abandoned casually.

  Sam and Lori couldn’t wait to finally get to the ocean this trip outside of the constant untangling of the trailer and the constant watchfulness to keep it from getting tangled up in the outboard or the trolling motor had been nerve wracking until a bit of practice had made the task easier. Sam had threatened to put the electric trolling motor on it and try driving it but had decided that mad scheme although it would probably work, took just too much time and was likely to be hazardous anyway. Having wheels on it and bringing along the trailer hitch dolly made the thing pretty easy to pull it out of the water and up on to the bank when they beached it for camping purposes but other than that it was like towing a misguided barge with a mind of its own. The barrels and lashings had loosened more times than they could remember and Sam and Lori soon remembered to check everything before setting off in the mornings.