The Battles of Rock Harbor: A Bugging In Tale of the Apocalypse

by J. B. Craig

  He knew there was one #10 can of some sort of fruit, probably the Emergency Essentials brand of freeze-dried berry blend. This was to have some sort of vitamins in a world where meat from fish, crabs, squirrels, rabbit and maybe a deer would be the main protein staple. Greg also had a few large bags of rice and beans in the bug-out-bag, with his Grandfather’s WWII mess kit. He had a big bottle of Men’s multi-Vitamins and his blood pressure medicine. Finally, he had a can of prepper bacon in a can! Yes, he would not be entering the apocalypse without one of the major food groups – Bacon. That said, he lamented the loss of the other food group, chocolate.

  Other assorted things in the backpack included a life-straw, for drinking water out of mud puddles, if necessary. This was in the bag because as a last resort, as it was tedious. It didn’t quite drip out fresh water, but it was very slow. It came with a syringe that screwed in to reverse-clean, or blow out, the impurities that the built-in filter cleaned out. Back at home, Greg had a full-sized Berkey water filtration device. Into the Berkey, any kind of water could be poured in, and over the course of the day, it dripped clean water through the filter into the canister below, which came with a spicket to pour water into a cup or canteen. There were also a handful of water purification tablets in the backpack, to Greg’s recollection.

  Greg had a portable chain saw in the pack. It had 2 handles and coiled into a something the size of a deck of cards, but he hoped that the chainsaws in the garage would run, since they were pull-start, with no electronics. He also had prepper personal hygiene products, like soap flakes, hand towels that were dried up and shrunk to dime-size circles about a half-inch high, and a travel toothbrush. He didn’t think he’d need these since the house was stocked with several family party’s worth of leftover soap, shampoo, etc. The linen closet was stocked with more towels than would be normal, except at a summer-time river house.

  There were a few smaller things rattling around the bottom of the bag. He saw a sharpening stone, some wire, a whistle compass, and 2 bundles of 550 lb. para cord.

  Visiting a Neighbor

  Greg cleaned the fish, then rinsed them with a small amount of bottled water and headed toward the fridge to store them. NO – he still did NOT want to open the fridge yet, as he’d be getting the perch cold, at the expense of everything else getting warmer. So, Greg dumped the fillets into a zip-lock bag and walked to the one house in the neighborhood that he knew had someone living in it, based on the now-useless car out front.

  Greg knew that the neighbors on the inland side of the loop around Rock were Mike and Jennifer. The last time Greg was here, he was invited to a happy hour at their place. At that time, Mike was a police officer in Fredericksburg, VA, about an hour away, so he had to drive to work, and worked nights. Greg saw the curtains part as he walked across the front yard, so knew someone was home. He walked over and knocked on the door.

  He may have soiled his shorts a bit – but would never admit it – when Jennifer opened the door, with a toddler following her. The most important thing he saw was at least a .38 or .357 magnum revolver pointed in his face.

  “Whoah, Jennifer. Settle down. It’s me, Greg, and I come bearing perch and croaker. I know little Annie loves those crispy perch fillets, and this is as fresh as it gets.” Annie, hearing her name, smiled and reached for Greg, who looked to Jennifer for permission to move. Jennifer pointed the gun at the floor, Greg scooped up baby who had become a 3-year-old since he saw her last, while Jennifer took the perch.

  Jennifer started sobbing and said “Mike knew this was going to happen someday. He said the lights could go out, but he didn’t say the phones, and the water would go out, and the car wouldn’t start! He talked about the power grid going down for a while. That’s why we moved here.”

  “I know, Jennifer – This sucks big time. Mike’s a good guy, and he’s very likely trying to get home now, but he’s got about 60 miles to go, so without a bike, or an old truck, he’s going to take a few days, if his police duties allow him to leave at all. Cities are not going to be fun places to be in a day or two. We’re going to have to stay calm, and plan to get through the next week or so safely. Plan on him being asked to keep the peace in Petersburg for a while. But he’s a good man, and he’ll come home to his girls. Until then, if you must stay here, make sure you’re bottled up tight.

  “Take care and enjoy the perch. Don’t open your freezer until you’re ready to cook everything in it. I’ve got a grill if you don’t. While the sun is out, we should see who else is on this peninsula – we’re all any of us have for the time being.

  “Money is going to be worthless, so if you can manage a few-mile walk to the Rock Harbor Mall, we should probably do it. I always keep a few hundred bucks in my wallet, and if they’ll sell us stuff, we should get it while we can. If you can’t, I’ll get as much as I can carry back.” Greg offered

  “I can’t carry Annie that far, but you can use Mike’s mountain bike. I’ve got a backpack, too.” Said Jennifer.

  So, Greg found himself riding Mike’s mountain bike the few miles to Rock Harbor Mall. As he rode, he saw a few of the neighborhood retirees out on their front porches, and stopped to get their names, and give them his best guess as to what was going on. He didn’t have the endurance or the backpack space to offer to buy things for them, but he suspected there wasn’t that much non-perishable stuff in a store that was full of coolers for beer, bread, and bait, the more luxurious 3 B’s of weekend beach survival.

  Shopping at the Post-Apocalyptic Mall

  Greg returned to the Mall, intending to take a more thorough inventory of what they had for sale. He recalled the things he purchased, and seeing some dry goods on shelves, some fishing bait and gear, and some expensive necessities, like eggs, milk, oils, etc. He saw that the store was open, so he walked in. The woman behind the counter said “Welcome back. Cash only, and 50% off anything in the fridge. Anything not in the fridge is twice whatever the price tag says, because I have to make up the difference.

  He replied “Well, I’m not buying anything in the fridge, so today is your lucky day. I’m looking for enough food to fill up this backpack, and it has to be light, because I have to pedaled it back home.” The woman pointed to the dry goods aisle, and he started filling up the backpack with all the beef jerky, Bisquick, dried beans, and Spam that he could fit. The only wet thing he grabbed was a half-gallon of Clorox bleach, because a few drops could help make water safe for drinking. Once the dense stuff was in the bottom, he grabbed 2 loaves of wheat bread, and crammed them into the backpack.

  “So, we can do all the math on this, or you can give me a number, and I’ll round it up. What do I owe you?”

  The woman, who was the owner from the earlier trip, smiled at him and said, “How about an even Hundred Dollars?”

  Greg pulled out a folded $100 from the secret compartment of his wallet and handed it over. As someone who was certain that some sort of unrest would happen, he had carried at least 2 $100 bills and 2 half-ounce coins in both gold and silver in the side pocket of his wallet for years. As he shouldered the backpack, he said “I see your fishing gear over there. Do you happen to have any hunting gear here, specifically, ammunition or knives?”

  The woman said that she had some ammo, but only in limited calibers, and it would be quadruple the price. Greg asked if she had 9mm, and she said that she did have 2 boxes of 50 rounds. Greg pulled out his second $100 bill, and said “That’s about 4 times what I pay for them at my gun club. Fair enough?”

  The woman nodded and thanked him for his business.

  As Greg left the store, he felt guilty about paying useless money for very valuable goods, so he stuck his head back in the door. “You know, it’s going to get really bad here really quickly. Are you sure you’re ready for any bad guys that might come along?”

  She smiled, and said “As you know, I worked for a living. Second, my other hand has been on my 1911 under the counter the whole time. You looked like a trustworthy type, and you have manner
s, but I’m ready for those that don’t have the same manners. I was a Marine, and I can take care of myself and my store. I do believe that the shit has hit the fan, but this is my store, and I’ll serve this community as well as I can for as long as I can.”

  “Semper Gumbi” Said Greg, laughing out loud. “Always flexible! I was more the Hooaahh of the Army than the OOO-Rah of the Corps, but thanks for your service, back then and now in the community. My cousin did 25 years in the Green Machine, and I respect y’all, even if you are a department of the Navy!” Laughed Greg.

  “Yeah, the Men’s department” said the lady Marine. Greg laughed at the irony as he was leaving, came back in, and shook her hand.

  “My name’s Greg, and I’m at your service if you need any help. I’m staying down in Rock Harbor, getting ready for some really dark days. Thanks for the Ammo – I know you know how valuable it will get. What’s your name?”

  “Most of my friends call me ‘Gunny’, but until I know you better, you can call me Lorna, or Mrs. Smith, if you choose. Stay safe, soldier!”

  “Well, Gunny Smith, I hope we are on the same side of whatever shit hits the fan over the next few days. I know you said only your friends call you that, but we’re going to have a serious shortage of military friends on this peninsula. On my ride out here, I counted 4 moms with babies, 6 houses with retired couples, and a majority of empty weekend houses. I didn’t go down every cul-de-sac, but it seems like there’s a shortage of fighting-age men” he quickly corrected himself, “and women! I don’t know how long it’s going to take for the bad guys to come to the peninsula, but if you hear them coming, let me know and I’ll be here to have your back. I’ll do the same if they come by sea first. I’ve got a good view of the water from Golden Bell point to Beasley Point. I can see the Potomac a bit over the dip in the Captain’s Point peninsula, all the way to Maryland, but it’s only a few hundred feet of river that I can see.”

  “You must have some pretty good optics to see Beasley Point from Rock Harbor.” Said the Gunny

  “Yup, mounted on my 8mm Mauser.” She fires slow, but she is a sweet one-shot, one-kill rifle. I’m trusting you enough to tell you that I’m at 21 Seahawk Circle if you need me. If I need you, I’ll ring the bell 3 times. It’s my Pop’s souvenir from Pearl Harbor. You can hear it for quite a few miles, on a quiet day.”

  “Well Shit, Greg, why didn’t you say you were related to the Chief. Of course you can call me Gunny. Losing him was hard on many of us here. I’m glad you’re there to keep an eye on their house, and to watch my back! Here”, she said, as she handed over 2 more 50-round boxes of 9mm. “This is for a debt that I never got to pay back to the Chief. I’ll tell you the story over a bourbon, if he has any left at the house. I recall many ‘happy hours’ on his back deck. I’ll swing by in a few days. Lord knows this store’s going to have stuff either rotten or gone by then.”

  Greg shook hands with his new friend, Gunny. He decided to go another quarter mile or so to the community volunteer fire house. He wanted to see if they had any news. Upon arrival, he saw the doors open, with a couple of volunteers in the station.

  “How’s it going, folks? Just checking to see if you needed anything.” He shouted.

  As he pulled up a few more came out. There were 3 men, and one woman. They introduced themselves as Deputy Chief Willy, with Lindsey, Buck, and Shane. These 4 had all had various stories, around hearing car crashes, and wanting to help, but not being able to get any more news, or start the vehicles. The one thing they had in common was that they didn’t have anyone at home to worry about, so they came to the fire station. Greg told them that there was plenty of space at the Harbor, for folks willing to work, and they were welcome to stop by, and stay if they wished, as there were numerous empty houses on the peninsula. They said they’d man the station for a while but would consider the offer.

  Greg suspected they’d need more able-bodied fighters, both the kind that fought fires, and the kind that fought in a fire-fight. These folks were dedicated to a life of helping the community. He was just planting seeds for now. He shared a round of beef jerky, and pedaled home to Rock Harbor.

  Securing the Castle

  Greg spent the next day securing the house at Rock Harbor from the most likely threats. Those would, namely, be humans who weren’t as nice as those that he had met so far. As he went through the house, he found a closet in the master bathroom that was, awkwardly, Behind the bathroom door. In other words, the only way to open it was to go into the master bath, close the door, then open the narrow door to a larger-than-expected closet. He found a guitar stashed in there, as well as some books and old clothes.

  Greg looked up and asked for forgiveness from Grandma, as he emptied out the closet, and tossed her clothes and other supplies that he didn’t have a use for in a closet that was more visible. He then started to move his survival supplies into the hidden closet. All of Pops “Water, drinking” from Anheuser Bush were moved from the basement, and the 24-packs were stacked on the floor, along with the other cases of bottled water, soda, beer, and anything else drinkable. Man can typically go for 3 minutes without breathing, 3 days without water, and 3 weeks without food. Water was the most valuable asset that Greg had, besides air, and he was pretty sure that there wouldn’t be a shortage of air.

  In addition to the water, Greg moved all the canned and non-perishable dry food into the closet. There were several boxes of pasta, cans full of vegetables and fruit preserves, and anything else that was edible and stow able. This also included the jerky from Rock Harbor Mall, and everything else he brought home in his backpack. To his food and water, Greg added most of the case of ammunition for his Mauser. Years ago, Greg had ordered 300 rounds of 8mm on 5-round stripper clips, and in fabric bandoliers, from Turkey. Well, it was from a US company, but it was Turkish surplus ammo. When Greg lived in Virginia, he had a back-yard shooting range, and he ran 10-20 rounds of this ammunition through the Mauser. At that time, despite the age, every round fired, so he was highly confident that most of them would still fire.

  He was in the habit of putting desiccant packs from whatever he bought that had them in his ammunition cans. Desiccant packs are those little squares of fabric with beads in them that absorb humidity. Many things that Americans purchase come with them, and they usually just get thrown away. Greg hoarded them, and occasionally would take them to the gun safe and put them in ammunition cans of various caliber ammunition.

  Greg took one bandolier of ammunition out of the case. It had 4 pouches with two five-round stripper clips of 8mm in each pocket, or 40 rounds of 8mm ammunition. He removed the stripper clips from the bandolier, because opening it under fire would be unwieldy, and placed them throughout the pockets in his conceal-carry vest, which also had both of his handguns in the inside chest pockets. 5 rounds were always loaded in the Mauser, and another 5-round stripper clip was placed over the hunting strap, where it doubled over itself. Basically, the 5 bullets, in their line, were laced over the shoulder strap in a way that they wouldn’t fall off, but could be pulled off and loaded as quickly as a single-shot bolt-action rifle could be loaded, as the scope removed the efficiency of a stripper clip.

  Without the scope, Greg would be able to pull the bolt back, set the stripper clip into a notch in the upper receiver, and just push down, or “strip” the rounds off the copper stripper clip. Greg decided that the “reach out and kill someone” efficiency of the scope was more important than the speed of reloading, as the iron sights didn’t have the range of a 9X Leupold scope.

  Finally, Greg put his BOB in the closet, and removed the doorknob. He replaced it with a lower profile deadbolt from the front door of the house. The reason for this was that Greg then grabbed one of the large floor-to-ceiling artworks that Grandma had brought back from Japan and placed it over the door. While it wouldn’t survive an in-depth search, most people who came into the bathroom… even if they closed the door, would not see the hidden closet with his survival goodies in it. He kept eno
ugh things in the kitchen cabinets, and pills, etc. in the bathroom vanity to give any potential looters something, without giving up the mother lode.

  After the long-term survival supplies were stashed, Greg got to work on building his watch post, or snipers nest. Pop had a ladder hanging from nails into the bottom of his deck, and Greg attached it to the back of the house, such that it sat on the deck, and was at an easy angle for running up to the roof. He secured it with a large nail on each side, so it wouldn’t slide sideways in an emergency. Greg found a sheet of plywood in the garage, and set it at the peak of the roof, resting on some cinder blocks that he found under the deck. From this angle, with his back to the harbor, Greg could have a full field of view around the house. This snipers nest was where Greg would keep watch in the evenings. While he had to sleep, he needed to protect the house in the hours where it would be most vulnerable to attack or looting – night time.

  On dry days, Greg could bring the padding from the numerous deck chairs up to the roof and could comfortably rest on the plywood with his rifle. On rainy days, he could lay on the pads with his poncho draped over him. Anyone approaching would only, at best, see the lump of his head, but behind him was the chimney, so he hoped that he would be well hidden in this sniper’s nest from at least the most vulnerable angles.