EMP 1500 MILES FROM HOME

by Mike Whitworth

  "I chose one small, lightweight pot, two forks, and two spoons, a very dull Old Hickory 7-inch butcher knife, a small folding pruning saw, two blankets, two bath towels, all the toilet paper, all the matches, the two butane lighters, a small pair of binoculars, all of the string and cordage—which was not a lot, a 6' x 8' plastic tarp, two empty gallon water jugs, plus the one with a bit of water left in it. I also piled up all of the canned goods and a few boxes of crackers Julie had in her pantry.

  Of course, the guns were going. The .22 revolver and the 12 gauge shotgun were the only guns Julie had. She had less than a box of shells for each. Fortunately, the 12 gauge shells were buckshot.

  "That isn't much," Julie said as she looked over the now much smaller pile of stuff.

  "Are any of your neighbors gone? Do you think there is any chance we can find a rifle in one of your neighbor's houses?"

  "I don't know," Julie said. "I have only been here a few months and I haven't met any of the neighbors yet. I do know the guy across the street works in Albuquerque and I don't think he was home when the lights went out."

  "I sure would like to have a rifle on this walk," I said.

  "Let's have a look in his place before we leave then," Julie said.

  I handed her the Glock and took the .45, and we left the house trailer. We approached the neighbor's house slowly and carefully, coming up on it from a blind spot on one corner. I went to the back door, put my ear against it, and listened. Not a sound for over ten minutes. The house seemed empty.

  "Care to join me in some thievery?" I asked Julie.

  "Don't mind if I do, Thief."

  I put my shoulder to the door and it opened with a bit of noise as the lock broke. We both stood back from the door, but nothing happened. I waited ten minutes and then pushed the door open with my foot, keeping my body away from the door opening. I tossed a fist-sized rock through the open door. It crashed on the floor, but there was no response. Either the guy was a pro, or no one was home. I hoped no one was home as I slipped through the door with the .45 at the ready.

  The house was empty. Looking around, I guessed the guy was a computer nerd. There were several computers and stacks of computer games. We went through everything in the house. He seemed to have no outdoor equipment at all. We did find an old hunting knife and sheath, which I gave to Julie.

  We found a dozen bottles of water in his refrigerator. We loaded those into an old grocery sack. We also added some canned goods and a few packages of cookies to our stash. There wasn't much food in the house, but that seemed to be the modern way—one that Cap complained about on a number of occasions.

  Then, in the back corner of a closet, I found an old surplus WWII Russian battle rifle. It was a Mosin Nagant, the long version with attached folding bayonet. On the shelf in the closet I found five boxes of 7.62 x 54 cartridges—100 rounds. The rifle had been crudely cleaned of packing grease, but needed a better cleaning and oiling.

  These rifles were very inexpensive a few years ago, selling for less than a hundred bucks. I figured the guy bought it, cleaned it up some, and stuck it in the closet 'just in case'. It didn't seem to have been fired since he bought it.

  "Is that old thing any good?" Julie asked.

  "It will do nicely until we can get something with more firepower."

  "Do you think it will shoot?"

  "Most likely," I said. "These old Russian rifles are built like a tank. I need to clean it up at bit and it will be fine. The cartridge is about the equivalent of a .308, or a little more powerful. It is a good find."

  "Don't you mean a good steal?"

  "Well, there is that..."

  We both laughed and went back to Julie's trailer carrying our freshly stolen goods.

  Yeti

  I took the old six-foot-long cart from the orphanage barn and filled it with some of my stuff and as much water as I could scrounge in every container I could scrounge. I knew those at the orphanage could get water from the stock tank just a few hundred yards away. I also took my share of food from the orphanage pantry. I did all of this at night while the others were sleeping.

  It did occur to me that maybe I should stay and see if I could help take care of the other orphans and Mrs. Sanger who ran the orphanage, but I had no friends among them, including Mrs. Sanger. All the other orphans made fun of me because I was different. I was taller, stronger, heavier (fatter really), slower on my feet, and much, much smarter than any of them and they didn't like me.

  They didn't like me because I was different, and they didn't like me because they each needed someone to ridicule to make them feel better about themselves. I could have told them that wouldn't work, but no one listened to me. In my entire life, spent mostly at this, and other orphanages, no one ever listened to me.

  I left just before dawn, pulling the cart behind me. In just three miles I was tired, in spite of numerous rest stops, so I pulled the cart out of sight, and went to sleep in the back of the cart. I knew it was dangerous, but I was too tired to worry about it.

  Wayne

  It would be dark in about two hours, so we got our stuff together in two makeshift backpacks. I took the heavy one and Julie the lighter one and we left. We walked into the high desert, keeping I-25 in sight on our right as we walked north.

  After an hour of walking, we looked around for a good place to camp. I found a low knoll that would hide us from view to the east, with a clump of mesquite just west of it that would conceal us well from the other directions. We cleared out a spot in the middle of the mesquite and made camp.

  We stretched out the tarp and used small rocks to hold the edges down so it would stay flat in the ubiquitous New Mexico wind. I dug a Dakota fire pit with the old butcher knife and my hands.

  "What are you doing? Digging a latrine in the middle of camp? I am not that kinky, Wayne."

  "Me either Julie, this is a Dakota fire pit. The flames won't show, and if we use small pieces of dry wood, there will be almost no smoke. It uses less firewood to cook too."

  "I have never seen a fire pit with a tunnel, but I have only done car and horse camping."

  "If it weren't for Cap's teachings, I wouldn't know anything about this either."

  "I think I would like this Cap guy."

  "I think you would. He can be a little harsh at times, but he always means well."

  "Is he the one who taught you to shoot like that."

  "My dad taught me the basics of how to shoot when I was ten, but Cap taught me everything else. I never once thought I would use anything Cap taught me. I mostly just went along with it all because Lucy, my wife, insisted."

  "I am glad she did."

  "Right now, I am too." I said. "I think I am just beginning to understand how wise Cap really is. I am so glad he is there to take care of Lucy and Ben through this. Heck, if I was there, he would be taking care of me as well."

  Once I had the fire going, I showed Julie how to cook on the Dakota Fire pit. While Julie was cooking I found a suitable rock and started sharpening the butcher knife. I got a workable edge, but not as sharp as I liked. I decided to keep my eye out for a better sharpening stone tomorrow as we walked. I laughed quietly to myself. The first sharpening stones were just that—stones. Nothing really changes.

  Now that there were no stores, we were just scavengers, and much less knowledgeable about using nature to our advantage than our primitive forebears. Like Cap said, it was time to make do, or do without. I preferred to make do and hoped I was capable enough to succeed.

  Julie heated a couple of cans of tamales and we both took turns eating out of the pot.

  When the food was gone, Julie said, "I didn't realize how hungry I was, and you ate like you hadn't eaten for a week."

  "Only a day," I replied. "Those tamales were good though."

  "I think you could eat some more. We have more cans."

  "But we don't know how long our food will have to last," I said. "Besides, I could stand to lose a few pounds."

  "Not very man
y, I think," Julie said, looking me over. "I could lose a few more than you."

  "Well, on this trip, I suspect we will both have our chance to lose a few pounds."

  "I think you're right." Julie paused for a while. "Does it bother you, shooting those men, I mean?"

  "I thought it would bother me more. In fact, I never thought I could ever take a life. It makes me want to be more careful. I don't want to have to kill anyone else, and I don't want to get killed."

  "Amen to that," Julie said. "I wasn't raised a pacifist, but I don't want to kill anyone either. My dad and mom raised me to do what needs doing though. That is a big part of life on a ranch."

  "Maybe we will make a good team," I said.

  "I think we will," Julie said. "In fact, I know we will."

  We sat in silence in the faint light of the fire for a while. I had my back to the fire and watched for trouble.

  I hadn't heard a single vehicle since the world ended. Cap told me that most anything made in the 1950s or the early 1960s was EMP-proof. Sooner or later, someone would roll an old vehicle out of a shed and put it on the road. I thought about trying to find one, but right now a running car or truck would be an attention grabber; a real magnet for most everyone, including those with bad intentions. Cap and I had discussed this. He suggested the gray man approach, blending in on foot, unless a vehicle was really needed. Cap had four EMP-proof vehicles at his retreat. One of them was even armored.

  "I will stand first watch. Why don't you turn in?" I said.

  "Watch?" Julie asked. "Do you really think we need to have one of us awake out here away from everyone."

  "Yes I do. Cap taught me it is standard operating procedure. He said it only takes a single mistake to lose your life. I figure I have made two mistakes already, and I can't afford a third."

  "OK, when you were robbed might be considered a mistake. But what is the other one?"

  "When you got the drop on me."

  "But you're OK. I really wasn't going to shoot you."

  "But what if it had been someone else?"

  "Oh, I see what you mean." Julie paused. "So I guess we have a don't talk to strangers rule too?"

  "Unless we have them at gunpoint, that might not be a bad idea," I smiled.

  "Life as we knew it is over, isn't it?"

  "I am afraid so, at least for a long time."

  "No it is over. The effects of this will last the rest of our lives, even if the electricity comes on again." I nodded agreement. Julie was catching on quickly.

  Julie rolled up in her blanket. I kept watch with the shotgun in my lap and the .45 tucked under my belt. The Mosin lay beside Julie, along with the other two pistols. I was glad for the guns. They were comforting. However, I had no illusions. Guns are useful, sometimes even necessary, but it is the mind that is the most important; a sharp and focused mind. Distractions can get you killed, or so Cap taught me.

  As I watched, I listened. I listened for any change in sounds. Everything was quiet. I woke Julie at 3:00 AM.

  She awoke quickly as I touched her shoulder. "Did you sleep?" I asked.

  "Yes, much better than I thought I would."

  "Good. You are on watch now until daylight. If you get too sleepy to stay awake, wake me up."

  "OK."

  I took a few minutes and explained to Julie how to keep watch. She listened intently. Then I rolled up in my blanket and fell asleep more quickly than I thought possible.

  Julie

  I am still sleepy from being awakened in the wee hours. In between looking around, I study Wayne where he lies sleeping. I am attracted to this man so much it surprises me. He is big, big and tall, but I have been around horses most of my life and I do not feel uneasy in his presence, although he is the biggest man I ever met. I am five feet six and Wayne towers over me. The top of my head is well below his chin when we are standing.

  I am impressed by the fact that this stranger, who hardly knows me, and has given no sign he finds me attractive, stood most of the watch himself. He woke me at 3:00 AM leaving me with less than three hours to stand watch. I decided I would let him sleep as long as he needed.

  Wayne

  When I awoke, the sun was just beginning to erase the darkness. Julie was wide-awake and carefully keeping watch. She held the shotgun in ready position. I was pleased.

  "Anything stirring?" I asked.

  "I thought I heard a shot about 4:30, but it was a long way from us."

  "What direction?"

  Julie pointed toward Polvadera. "That way. Should we fix breakfast now?"

  "No, I think we should get moving. We can find a good spot in a couple of hours and fix something to eat then. I don't think we should stay in any one place any longer than we have to."

  "OK," Julie said, and started putting her blanket pack together. I did the same. We were on our way in ten minutes. I completely covered the Dakota fire pit, and tried to eliminate all traces of our presence. It might not fool a real tracker, but I thought it was good enough to fool almost everyone else. Julie watched as I worked but didn't say a word.

  We walked for three hours. I estimated we walked about seven miles, which I thought was pretty good, considering the terrain and ubiquitous thorny plants.

  We stopped and fixed a meal. We were hidden from the interstate, but were maybe a quarter of a mile from it. While we were eating I heard a vehicle on the highway. We both crawled up a low rise to look. There was on old 1950s pickup truck, painted a bright red, rolling north on the interstate.

  "We need one of those," Julie whispered.

  "Later, I think. Not now."

  We watched as the truck drove steadily past us. There was an overpass about a half mile up the highway. I was watching through the binoculars as the truck approached the overpass. Suddenly we heard gunfire and the truck slowed, rolled off the road, and came to a stop. I counted at least a dozen men rushing toward it.

  "That doesn't look good," Julie whispered.

  "No, it doesn't," I agreed. "I think we have some thinking to do on how to get past that crew."

  The 'crew' dragged the body of the driver from the truck, pushed the truck back onto the interstate, and drove away with at least nine men in the truck bed. They were whooping and hollering. A couple fired their rifles into the air.

  "Do you think they are leaving?"

  "I don't know. We can't assume they are though. However, I'll bet some of them will use the truck and look for something to steal."

  "Well, we stole."

  "As will most folks now, I think. However, I hope we don't just kill people for their stuff."

  "I don't think that is our style," Julie said. "Besides, we don't need very much to get by. Once we are home on the ranch, we will be OK. Dad has enough beef cattle to feed half the county. It is a big ranch."

  "That sounds good. I think I could go for a steak about now."

  "Me too," Julie smiled. "I could get tired of tamales if I tried, but they were on sale, and I have, uh—had, a very small income after getting laid off."

  "I think we all just got laid off."

  "That is one way of looking at it."

  "Right now I think we are fairly rich."

  "This is not what I pictured being rich would be like. I thought there would be parties, and expensive clothes, and maybe a yacht."

  "That was before, this is after."

  "Well, I at least want a bath soon."

  "I second that," I said.

  We gathered our stuff and walked north. Our packs were getting lighter. We would need to find more water soon. I led the way with the Mosin slung over my shoulder. Julie followed with the shotgun. All of our weapons had rounds chambered, and the safeties (except for the revolver of course) on.

  Yeti

  I am making slow progress, but I am making progress. For someone so smart, I have really been stupid to let myself get so fat. I knew overeating is a problem for some smart folks and I guessed I was one of them.

  Until a few years ago, I didn't
know I was smart. I believed I was just a dumb fat boy worthy only of the derision I received. But I liked computers. I was good with them. I built my own computer system from parts and discovered the Internet.

  One day when I was goofing on the Internet, I found an online IQ test. I took it and got all the answers correct. That got me interested in IQ. I thought my score was just an accident, but the more I read about intelligence, the more interested I became. I finally registered for and took the Mega IQ test when I was eleven. It scored me with an IQ in the higher end of the profoundly gifted range.

  I know most folks would like to be able to say they have such a high IQ but take it from me, it is just another handicap. Like most of the profoundly gifted, I am an empath, meaning I strongly feel what others are feeling, but an empath with little control over my own overly sensitive emotions.

  I also have little interest in the things that interest most people; football, television shows, and the like. That made it hard for me to make friends. I tried, Heaven knows I tried, but sooner or later they would find out that we had so very little in common and find others with who they had more in common to be friends with.

  So here I am, too fat to walk very far and smart enough to know that my chances of surviving are very low. It is not a good situation to be in, but at least I am making my own decisions. That part feels good.

  Wayne

  After walking a while we came on the road that led to the overpass where the driver of the old pickup truck was killed. We took turns scanning the area for any sign of movement or human presence with the binoculars.

  We came upon rattlesnakes twice, but just walked around them and kept going. It wasn't worth risking a shot to kill one, or starting a fire to cook it.

  We stopped in the brush about four hundred yards from the road. It was still about six hours until dark. We studied the road from a concealed position that gave us a good view. Twice the pickup truck, still loaded with armed men, drove past.