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

by J. B. Craig

  Once he had a watch post, and his valuables stashed away, he walked over to Mike and Jennifer’s house. Having learned his lesson, he called out as he approached the door. “It’s just me, Jennifer. No need to point that cannon at me when I knock.

  Jennifer opened the door, and she was nowhere near as confident as his last visit. She looked like she had been crying, and she was in a disheveled state. “Mike hasn’t come home yet, and I’m really getting worried, Greg”

  “I’m sorry, Darlin’”, he drawled in his best Georgia impression. She smiled a bit, because she knew that he was originally from Baltimore, and didn’t talk that way. “I don’t know any more than you do, Jennifer, but I have an offer for you. It is TOTALLY not what you might think, so please don’t shoot me for offering, but you are welcome to move in with me.”

  He took 3 steps back as her face went through several emotions. First, surprise, then anger, then she reached for her pistol, but didn’t actually pull it.

  “Woah! I am not trying to work my way into your pants, or anything like that. I am counting on my family showing up, too, and wouldn’t want any of that drama around WHEN our spouses show up. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

  “As the food runs out, bad guys, or just hungry people, will start looking for food. When they come, they may not ask nicely. They are likely to come at night, under the cover of darkness, and they won’t knock first. I plan on taking the night watch, but we all need to sleep. Survival will be more likely with 2 of us keeping watch on an alternating schedule than both of us sleeping, and waking up with slit throats.”

  Jennifer’s body language relaxed as the threat of molestation went away. Then her face tensed up as she realized what they were going to be up against in the future. “So, why should I move in with you, and not you move in here?”

  “Well, your house is newer, but that also means that the wooden or press-board walls aren’t going to be as good against bullets as my brick walls, and I have the harbor to my back. I only need to watch 180 degrees or so, and occasionally listen for an outboard, if any of them work, or oars in the water. You know how well sound travels of the harbor. Most nights, we can hear the people across the water arguing inside their home”

  “I would suggest you move over with me, as I have a watch-tower set up – even if you can’t see it. Bring anything you need to survive, as I’ve also got a hidden safe-room, that can hold your valuables, or even you and little Annie if things get really bad. I hope we don’t get to that point, but hungry people are desperate people.”

  “Let me think about it, OK?” She asked. Greg nodded his head. “Mike might be home any minute, and if I was not home, and living with you, that could be bad.”

  “I know Mike would understand the tactical situation, and the decision, if he didn’t shoot me in the first minute!” Greg said as he laughed. “And you would need to leave some note telling him where we are, without strangers knowing. So, no street address, but maybe “Chief’s house”, for example.”

  “Oh, depending on what his first impression was, and what he goes through to get here, we’re going to need to have more like a 5-second elevator pitch ready. He’s very jealous, and you know he’s one hell of a shot! I will come over tomorrow morning, and let you know my decision. Until then, I assume you’ll be watching at night. I’ll take the day shift from the upstairs balcony. It doesn’t have as good a view as that nest I saw you building on the roof, but I don’t think we need to worry about any of our neighbors behind me – yet.”

  Greg answered “I agree, and I plan to visit every house on the circle, and out to the entrance to the community today. I’ve only seen about 8 people on the whole peninsula so far, and don’t think there will be more than a few dozen, based on the useless cars in the driveways. And some of those cars don’t even mean people. Next door to me, the Jones’ have their truck in the driveway, but they keep it here for towing their boat, and aren’t here. We may have more vehicles than people on this peninsula.”

  The Rock Harbor Army

  Greg knew that he wanted to get at least 4 hours of sleep before dark. Luckily, he set Pop’s old wind-up ship’s clock when he arrived, and had religiously wound it every morning, just like Pop used to do. Every 4 hours, at 4, 8 and 12, both am and pm, the clock would strike 8 bells. Then, every half hour, it would strike an additional bell. So, 4pm would be 8 bells, 4:30 would be 1 bell, 5pm would be 2, and so on. He figured he had 8 hours free before needing to catch a nap, then it would be up to the ‘Osprey’s Nest’. He laughed, as he just named his hide, and it was an appropriate name, with all the Ospreys living on pilings in the Harbor.

  Greg knew, from his obsessive prepping, what was coming, but knew he had a long, uphill battle ahead of him. Just based on Jennifer’s reaction, people would be in default “civilization mode” and count on the government to fix things, sooner, rather than later. That said, he needed to set expectations as soon as possible, so that the community was ready to defend itself before the bad guys decided to take things. He laughed, knowing how even now, his wife would tell him that he was being paranoid and crazy, and that it wouldn’t get that bad, but he KNEW that it would. Dozens, probably hundreds, and maybe even millions of transformers, depending on the scale of this disaster would need to be replaced.

  Greg walked from house to house, finding that about 80% of them were not occupied when the lights went out. At each house that there was a resident, Greg needed to give the short version of what he knew happened. No more electricity, probably for years, eat your perishables first, then gather your beans, bullets, and bandages. People took the news in a variety of ways, from shock, to already knowing, and having a plan. At the end of his self-imposed time limit, Greg had made it around Seahawk Circle, the peninsula road that the Grandparents’ house was on, and up the road to the community pool house and home owners association building.

  The people on the peninsula broke down this way: 8 retired couples, mostly ex-Navy families; 3 widows in their 70’s; 5 women who were either single mothers, or home alone while their husbands worked out of town, a few families of farmers who worked some of the nearby fields off-peninsula, 1 man who was working from home, and the crew of 8 carpenters that he gave a ride to. They were building the house on the opposite side of the circle, inland. It turned out that they needed to frame in all of the walls for the electrical and plumbing inspection and were in the house the day the lights went out because their Jefe was telling them that they had to work or get fired. There were more of them, but some of them decided to walk home, as they worked close enough to do so. This remaining group were most of the 8 Hispanic men he met the other day, who decided to shelter in place, as their trucks were dead, and they all lived in a shared apartment the town of Tappahannock, about 20 miles away, with nothing really to go back to. The houses nearby had more food than they had in their apartment, so they decided to wait out the storm. They were very clearly more on-board with the apocalypse than most of the residents. It probably had something to do with their histories. Greg was looking forward to exploring those histories, as they might need each other to survive.

  Greg’s limited Spanish, and their OK English allowed him to understand them enough to get across the fact that the power probably would not be on for a while. He suggested that they explore the houses around them if they ran out of provisions and promised to get back with them the next day. He didn’t know them enough to ask them to help him with watch and didn’t want to disclose his supplies at this point. They seemed like nice enough guys, but he wasn’t going to risk his life with virtual strangers at this point.

  He did list them, in his head, as possible soldiers in what was quickly becoming the Rock Harbor Army, or maybe National Guard. Greg knew that bad days were coming, and he’d need every able-bodied man to keep the residents of the peninsula safe. And more importantly than even that, he needed to have the family home safe, because he couldn’t allow himself to believe that his son, girls, and other family members wouldn�
�t make their way to Rock. If… No, WHEN they got there, he was going to have a safe harbor for his loved ones, and he would partner with anyone on the peninsula to make that happen.

  Greg’s only real problem on his visits were with “Tripp”, or William Essington the Third, the investment banker and “landlord” who was working from home that day. His wife was off in Richmond, as she was most weeks. He was the guy who employed the Hondurans, and Este. His father had bought the inner lots from Pop’s estate some years ago. His wife came back to the harbor only on weekends, and Tripp was alone. This did not surprise Greg, as Tripp was a “piece of work”. Tripp was also the president of the Rock Harbor home owner’s association (HOA) and was very suspicious of Greg. He asked Greg what he was doing in the neighborhood. He pointed out that he had never seen him at any of the HOA meetings, and questioned Greg’s right to be in the house on the peninsula.

  Greg explained that it was the family house, and they paid their HOA dues every year, and kept the yard up to standards. He dropped Chief Chambers’ name, but Tripp had moved in after Pop died, so he wasn’t impressed, or convinced. Apparently, his daddy made the deal with the estate. Greg pointed out that he was rightfully in the family house, and he wasn’t going anywhere. He felt that Tripp might end up being a problem in the long run, but didn’t have time for trifling little bureaucrats only 2 days into the apocalypse. He felt a little bad for not giving Tripp the warnings that he gave the others about bullets, Band-Aids and beans, but he figured the officious little prick would either figure it out, or die, either solution, frankly, worked for Greg.

  “Well, I don’t know if you belong here or not, and I guess the members of the association will have to decide.” Said Tripp. “Make sure you’re at the monthly meeting tomorrow night at 6pm. The association can decide your fate”

  “Tripp, I’ll be there, because we need to come together and be ready to defend this peninsula.” Greg snarled. “But the only thing deciding my fate will be my survival skills, and how many people I can pull together for the mutual defense of this ground. OUR peninsula.” I dare you to try to displace me from my Grandfathers house. Please. You’ll be much less of a problem if you try me early. Greg turned on his heel and walked back to the house at 21 Seahawk, to get a few hours of fitful rest before climbing up into his Osprey Nest.

  Osprey Nest, Night 1.

  The second night in the Osprey Nest was interesting, but not dangerous. Greg had an excellent view of the entire 22-house circle that was Seahawk Circle. He could also see across the harbor to the dozen or so houses there. The road circled the fat end of the peninsula, so the developer could take advantage of selling as many water-front lots as possible.

  About half of the inner lots were still un-sold, grassy lots Marked with tattered survey pins. However, Tripp’s Dad had some marketing credibility, as they were being built and sold. Several of the residents of the circle who had riding mowers did the community a solid one by cutting the grass in the un-sold lots, to keep the property values up. Because of this situation, Greg had a view across the inner circle of lots and had a decent view of the homes on the other side of the circle.

  Greg did notice some activity on the other end of the inner-circle, where his friends in the group of Hispanics had set up camp. They were going to the nearby houses and knocked early in the evening to see if anyone was home. They had several unoccupied houses within a few doors of the one they had set up camp in, and as the night went on, Greg watched them break small windows in covered areas like porches, or pry doors open. He watched through his scope as they came out with bags, presumably containing any salvageable dry goods, and anything else that might aid their survival. They did not get greedy, and salvage from every house, just the ones nearby. Presumably they found enough to stay alive, and Greg didn’t begrudge them their booty. He was actually jealous that he didn’t get started first, so once the flashlights from the folks across the circle stopped their searching, he took a chance, dropped down the ladder, and did the same to the houses around him, adding substantially to the foodstuffs in his hidden room.

  In addition to the food that he collected, he also found various prescription medicines in the medicine cabinets. In 2 homes, he found insulin in the refrigerators, which he moved to the still cold, but not freezing, freezer in the basement. The ice in the bottles was still mostly ice, but each one had water surrounding the large block in the middle. He had a plan for the HOA meeting the next night. His Yeti, as advertised, was still cold, and was winning the ice wars with the freezer. He walked across the circle, and communicated with the contractors about the medicine situation, and his idea. They understood and got to work on the rest of the houses, gathering and storing medication for the meeting tomorrow. Now that it was after midnight, the meeting was, technically, tonight.

  Greg finished his self-imposed shift back up on the nest, and all was quiet in the harbor. He did hear some shots from across the Potomac, or possibly across the Nomini river, as sound carries funny across large bodies of water. He didn’t know if they were from hunters trying to stock up on fresh meat, suicides, or more nefarious activity, but this night all was quiet in the Rock Harbor community.

  At Dawn, Greg announced himself once again to Jennifer’s home before approaching. She was awake, and opened the door with a smile, if it was a bit strained. “Annie slept through the night, so I did too. I’ve been doing an inventory, and our food situation doesn’t look so good” she lamented. I’m worried about what we do if this lasts a few more days.”

  “That’s understandable, and normal.” Greg reassured her. “Most households in America don’t have more than about a week’s worth of food in their fridges. We do frequent grocery store trips to pick up supplies every few days. This far out on the peninsula, we may be luckier than most places. Because the grocery store is so far away, and many are only occupied once every few months in the winter, most houses have a decent supply of canned and dry goods.”

  “How do you know that?” She asked, genuinely curious as to how Greg knew her situation, and that of “most houses”.

  “Well, last night, I saw the construction guys looking around the vacant buildings, and so I did the same with our neighbors. It’s very unlikely they’re going to travel here with no cars and electricity, so I helped myself to stuff necessary for survival.” The good news is, even though there are several unexplored houses still on the circle, we… and I mean you, me and Annie have probably 2-3 months of food, if we can keep supplementing it with fish and crabs from the river. That’s plenty of time to get the garden going, as I also found several packs of seeds in addition to what I have at my place. You remember Grandma loved her garden? Thank God for her safe storage of so many seeds. We’ll be in tomatoes forever, because she had a favorite heirloom variety for her pasta. The only problem is most of the other seeds are hybrid, so when we eat them, their seeds will produce very little, if any viable plants next year.”

  “Next YEAR?!?!” She asked incredulously.

  “Well, prepare for the worst, and hope for the best. There were a few packs of heirloom seeds, so we’ll have to plant them separately, as I don’t know what hybrid cross-pollination will do to the survivability of their seeds. Worst case scenario, we’ll have some heirloom corn, tomatoes and beans to harvest, and we can preserve the seeds for next Spring, if we need them. If I remember correctly, there are also several berry bushes along the shoreline that we can harvest for fruit, and those briar patches don’t need any upkeep, other than some pruning to make more fruit every year. I’m not sure exactly how that works, but I’m hoping someone at the meeting tonight does. Please be sure to come, as I think I’m going to need some moral support.”

  Greg continued “You’re tagged in, Jennifer. If you can keep an eye out for a few hours, I want to get some shut-eye, then I want to round up our new neighbors and talk tactics for tonight’s meeting of the home owner’s association. You are welcome to move in next door and keep watch from my “Osprey Nest” on th
e roof, but I suspect things aren’t bad enough yet that you can’t just keep an eye out on the approach road. I can’t be certain, but I think our construction crew on the other side of the circle is not going to be a problem. On the contrary, they’re probably going to be an asset if we can treat them with respect and let them know that we’re all in this together. That said, I don’t know them that well, and I can’t communicate with them so well. My Spanish is terrible.”

  “Spanish? Well, I took 4 years of Spanish, and an immersion course in Mexico City. When you do your rounds before the meeting, I’ll go over with you and chat with them.” Jennifer said as she smiled. I’ll also have my .357 with me, in case they’re not trustworthy. Trust but verify, right?”

  “What do I say to a woman with that cannon on her hip, but ‘Yes, Ma’am!” Laughed Greg, as he saluted her and went back to the house to get ready for get a few hours of shut-eye. But first – he figured he would binge and have his first post-apocalyptic breakfast.

  Catching water and making friends.

  Greg made a quick breakfast out of the last of the frozen breakfast links out of the freezer. They were now thawed, but smelled like they probably wouldn’t kill him, as they were sealed in plastic. He cooked them well-done on the gas range, just in case. Utility gas was still flowing, if a little weak, so he made the most of it. The oven wasn’t working, but the stove-top would cook, if lit by a match. After taking a sniff, he then dumped the rest of the perishables from the fridge and freezer in the remaining crab traps under the deck. These loaded traps he dropped at strategic points around the harbor, tying them to the neighbor’s docks – with the strings just below the low-tide line. No sense advertising the food to others!