I accelerated away from the trail and tried to flank the herd. The valley paralleled the trees for some distance. I raced ahead and then turned down a trail into the woods. I slowed and shut off the snow machine. I could hear them.
Were they coming this way? I jogged ahead, staying close to the trees where there was less snow. My breath came in ragged gasps. I had to stop. I was getting lightheaded. I tried to listen, but asthma attacks always made my eardrums pound. I couldn’t hear much, but I started to feel the vibrations in the tree I was hiding behind as the herd approached. They were coming right at me. The woods weren’t thick, but there weren’t long lines of sight. I leaned my rifle against the tree and took out my pistol.
I tried to calm my breathing as I waited. The first doe shot past me before I knew it. I stepped out from behind the tree, surprising a buck. I snapped off two rounds, hitting him only once. He reared, then turned sharply to run away from me. I put a round right behind his shoulder, and he dropped with his first jump. I aimed again as another caribou started to veer away from me. One shot took a female in the back leg and she went down, struggling to drag herself with her front legs churning. Another frightened doe almost ran into me. She got one round in the chest between her front legs. She slammed against me as she tried to get past, going down on her side. She huffed once and stayed down. I dropped behind a tree, only able to concentrate on my breathing.
A WINLOCK PRESS BOOK
ISBN: 978-1-68261-274-3
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-68261-275-0
Run
End Times Alaska Book Two
© 2016 by Craig Martelle
All Rights Reserved
Edited by Monique Happy Editorial Services
Cover Art by Christian Bentulan
This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.
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For Wendy Whitehead.
This book shows what my wife taught me about life.
Please enjoy the story.
CONTENTS
Bears Wake Up in the Spring
A Trip
A Trip to No-Man’s Land
More Survivors
What Next
What To Do About Survivors
The Plants Are Growing
Taking Flight
The Big Trip
Attacked
Delta Junction
We Found the Military
Here for the Duration
Airplanes
The Unknown Fear
Temporary Housing
They Came, They Saw, They Left
A World at War
A New Normal
How Does One Pump a Septic Tank?
Sam and Martha
Abigail
The Community Refreshed
The New Alpha
The Introduction
The Growing Community
Spending Summer Preparing for Winter
Riding Horses
The First Snow
Clear Roads and Clear Skies
What’s the Way Ahead?
Sam’s Wisdom
Just a Little Thing
The Big Restock
We Stayed the Day
The Haul
Winter
Stay or Go?
The Baby
Christmas
The Big Move
It Went By Fast
Becoming More Isolated
Another Year
Just Because You’re Paranoid Doesn’t Mean They Aren’t Watching You
We Can’t Stay
Today’s My Birthday
Mushing the Back Country
It Seemed So Close
The First New Day
Training
Timing
The Road to Somewhere
Day Two of the Great Escape
Dog Food
John
Chasing Caribou
Where Is He?
The Smoke House
A Day of Rest
A Long Rest
On the Road Again
The First Casualty
Continuing On
Tomorrow
Hiding in the Open
A Blur
Dawson, Yukon Territory
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Other Winlock Books You’ll Love
BEARS WAKE UP
IN THE SPRING
The growl was loud and close. It was a rare occasion when I didn’t have the dogs with me, but there I was, alone, calf deep in the mud, trying to dig my .45 out of my shoulder holster inside my coat.
I tried not to flail in order to attract less attention to myself, but this was a thin grizzly, freshly awoken from her winter slumber and not a T-Rex. She already knew I was there and was still trying to determine if I would be a good snack or not.
I wanted to be the kind that caused indigestion after tasting bad on the way down.
Or at least cause explosive diarrhea. I’m not sure the bear cared.
She continued sniffing the air as she approached. I knew I couldn’t outrun the bear. Even if I tried, I expected that my feet would come right out of my boots. The mud was bad.
That’s why I hadn’t brought the dogs. I tried to take calming breaths, but my body was having none of that. My breathing was quick and shallow. Anxiety was an asthma trigger, and there’s nothing that screams louder at your soul than imminent death.
“Come on!” I yelled. The bear hesitated, surprisingly. I hadn’t been yelling at her, but at my recalcitrant pistol that was catching every fold in my jacket as I fought with it.
With one final tear, the pistol came free. I ripped away the piece of my jacket that hung from the hammer and took aim.
The bear seemed tentative, so I pointed the barrel in the air and fired.
The grizzly jumped up and started rumbling away.
I could hear my heart beating against my dulled sense of hearing as I watched her head toward the road, away from me and away from our house.
I came to the garden because I wanted to look it over, make sure everything was okay, and then go back home. I put my hands on my knees as I struggled to catch my breath.
As the bear disappeared over the road, I was happy that I didn’t have to find out that my .45 might not stop a hungry grizzly.
A TRIP
Planting the garden was anticlimactic. We had prepared so well that nothing was left to chance. Planting our seedlings took a total of thirty minutes. The hardest part was getting them from the greenhouse to the garden site.
Green beans and tomatoes made up the majority of our garden. We had a number of peppers and a healthy amount of cabbage. After that, everything else was just nice-to-have vegetables. We even tried eggplants. We watered a fair bit after planting, but nothing to wash away any seeds. I had a manual sluice gate off the stream. It looked like a pair of two inch by twelve inch boards that were dropped into slots, providing a redundant stopper for the water, which flowed into channels around the garden where we could then manually divert water into the rows within the garden. If there was flooding, it wouldn’t tear through the middle of the garden. Well, it shouldn’t ruin the garden. I had no idea how much water my system would hold.
<
br /> And that was that. A couple trips a day to check on the garden, making sure the fence was still in place, the plants were watered, and all weeds were pulled. And anyone could do that. It gave me time for a different trip.
Have you ever tried driving while wearing a gas mask?
That was a great challenge for me. I was completely bundled up, including where Madison duct taped my gloves to my sleeves and my hiking boots to my pants. These rubber boots didn’t fit well, so they were expendable, just like everything I had on. Although, after losing all kinds of weight, my Swiss Tanker coverall fit well. I’d bought it surplus for a few dollars because it had an interesting camouflage pattern, but it had always been a little tight. It was tough material. Maybe a Geiger counter would tell me that I could keep it. We would see.
Even though I was breathing much better, probably due to getting in shape, my asthma still bothered me. I was taking my twice-a-day medications once every other day. It wasn’t optimal, but it was stretching them out. I would run out soon though, and that caused me some anxiety. I was afraid of dying, gasping for breath.
The gas mask didn’t help. I had to pull air harder to get it into my lungs, so I was breathing faster and getting less air. I had to relax. I rolled down the window. Madison was looking at me. “Get me a music CD! Something I like!” She went inside, reemerging quickly with a CD. I got out of the Jeep to get it from her. I didn’t want her to get too close.
I held it up in front of the two eyepieces on my gas mask. Rush – Signals. That would work. I nodded my head and gave her the thumbs up. I put the CD in the player and turned it up. I had the windows rolled down as I drove off.
The first time I hit the brake pedal was a little bit of an adventure. The Jeep didn’t stop. I down-shifted the automatic to second gear and then first. I worked the foot brake gently. It started to grip after getting exercised, and then the brakes worked normally. Maybe some rust. Maybe the hydraulics needed to lubricate the system. It didn’t matter. Without any traffic on the road, I could have driven using just the hand brake.
The sun had cleared the road well, although some shaded sections still had snow. I easily avoided those. I drove fairly fast, even running the Jeep up to seventy mph on the wide-open stretches, just to feel it again.
This trip was about getting to the University, but it was also an opportunity to look for survivors. I slowed down and looked for signs. Without the snow, it was impossible to tell if anyone was traveling on the road. I could not believe that there weren’t more survivors to the north. There were a number of communities there that were well suited for surviving the winter. Without the roads being cleared of snow, they would just now be venturing out for supplies. Maybe we needed to put out some kind of sign, either a warning or a note saying that there are other survivors. I would have to think about that.
We didn’t want any empire builders showing up at our door.
I didn’t see any signs of other people, but this was a snapshot in time. In the moment it took me to drive past a spot, if no one were outside or on the road, then it would seem that no one was there, when the truth could be the opposite.
If I could find a Geiger counter, then we would know for sure if we could expand our search area.
As I turned onto Goldstream from the Steese Highway, the bad memories of my last trip took over my mind. I started to breathe harder and harder until I was getting lightheaded. I slowed and pulled over to the side of the road. I guess I didn’t need to pull over, but when you aren’t thinking clearly, you do what is habitual.
I got out of the Jeep and took off my gas mask. I leaned against the fender until I was calm again. The idling Jeep was all I could hear, so I reached in through the open window and turned it off. I probably should have put my mask back on to do even that, but after an asthma attack, I never could think very clearly. I was always reduced to singular simple actions. And I was always exhausted afterwards. I think my muscles were crying out from being denied oxygen.
No rest for the weary, I thought to myself. I put my mask back on and opened the passenger door. I took out our clothes and boots that we had put there nearly six months earlier. I threw them into the ditch. I had all the windows down, but kept my mask on. I had to find a Geiger counter.
A TRIP TO NO-MAN’S LAND
The bodies of the two men were where I had last left them. One snow machine sat there, unmolested. I slowed down. A cloud of bugs hovered over the bodies. With my gas mask on, I couldn’t smell anything, and I was happy for that.
Those men didn’t belong in this world where we were all here together. What if we were rescued? Could I be arrested? Should I be? Those were philosophical questions for a different time. Without any signs that there would be a rescue, I had other priorities. But maybe those two bodies needed to go away. Then again, how many bodies were there, and who would look at them? Worrying solved nothing. Right now, I was looking for something to help us understand more of the world we had been thrust into. I refused to let those two scumbags steal any more of my time or energy.
I drove on, glancing briefly at the old lady’s A-frame house as I drove past. She deserved better, but I couldn’t take the time to bury her either. She would contribute to the circle of life in some odd way, whether through the ravens, the foxes, or something else.
Ballaine looked different than the last time we had driven on it. It seemed like the fire had reached farther up the hillside facing the city. The way was mostly clear, except as I got closer to Farmer’s Loop where a number of vehicles were stranded on and about the roadway. I could see some had people inside. They were long dead. At least their windows were rolled up. I kept my eyes on the road. I didn’t want to look at them.
Power poles had fallen, and their lines straggled across the road. I crawled over these to make sure that nothing wrapped itself around anything on the Jeep. It would be a really long walk back home if something happened to the Jeep now. I was wearing rubber boots that weren’t comfortable. A long and miserable walk.
I drove halfway into a ditch in four-wheel drive low to avoid more wires. I had to take off my gas mask so I could see. I opened the door and hung out as I drove slowly. It was refreshing to be out of the mask. My head was covered with sweat where the mask had formed a seal against my skin.
Once onto Farmer’s Loop, the road was more open, although there were a good number of dead vehicles, so I put my mask back on. Madison had told me that if anyplace had a Geiger counter, it would probably be the Department of Geology and Geophysics. This was the building next to where she used to work, so I knew right where it was. Getting there was effortless, after clearing the obstacles on Ballaine.
I parked on the road outside the facility and headed in. It was quiet, although I could hear songbirds. Anything living was a good sign.
I had my “shopping” tools with me as I figured I’d have to break locks to get into storage cabinets or past lab doors. I wasn’t sure about metal doors and metal doorframes, but if I needed to get in, I’d find a way. I carried my pry bar, a sledge hammer, and a bolt cutter. There was an axe in the Jeep.
I looked for any place where there would be equipment. Offices might have what I was looking for, but a laboratory would probably be a better bet. As I walked into the department, there was a display case up front to lure potential students and keep current students excited about the world around them. As part of the display, I saw it sitting there, innocently. A Geiger counter. Could it really be that easy?
I used my sledge hammer to break the glass. It was a big pane, and it didn’t go easily. My tanker coveralls protected me as larger shards fell toward me and shattered on the floor. I shook the glass off the Geiger counter. What the hell, I thought. I turned it on.
It came to life with minimal ticking. I waved it over some other things in the case. It picked up its pace a bit on some of the rocks, but otherwise it was steady and not in an alarming way.
I took it outside where the ticking was minimal. I waved it around t
he inside of the Jeep. It picked up a little bit on the floor where our clothes had sat all winter. I pulled out the floor mat and threw it away. The ticking slowed. I waved it over myself and was relieved to find that I wasn’t radioactive. The Jeep was fine, too. I took the duct tape off my sleeves and pant legs. I was hot and sweaty. One normally wouldn’t worry about such a thing except we only had limited water, as in no shower.
I started the Jeep and drove toward the city. I stopped often to test the air. Things weren’t bad near the University. College Avenue was packed with vehicles and trash that had been blown into the road. It was impassable. I retreated to University and headed south. As I reached the intersection with Johansen, the Geiger counter picked up the pace quite a bit. From here, it was a clear shot east toward Fort Wainwright. The radiation must have swept straight down the road. I turned west, heading in the opposite direction.
Maybe I could check on the home of some other close friends. They lived on the opposite side of Chena Ridge. Then again, as I stopped where I was and looked around, this place was a wasteland. Dead vehicles were everywhere, probably from the electro-magnetic pulse. I wondered why our electronics still worked, but that was probably due to two large hills in between our home and the detonation. Not so anywhere in Fairbanks, which sat in a bowl between the hills. I drove up the back way toward the eastern side of the University. There was an overlook where one could see most of the entire city.
Once there, I took in the magnitude of it all. I used my phone to take a few pictures. I had it in an inside pocket and once I was clear of the radiation, I was able to take it out. I had my wallet with me, too. Maybe I didn’t want to break those habits. They were my link to a world where I was more at home, to a world that didn’t look like what was in front of me.
I looked for movement. Ravens flew about, not too far from me. I couldn’t see any reindeer in the pastures off to my right. With no one to care for them, I wasn’t surprised at not seeing any.
Run (End Times Alaska Book 2) Page 1
