Scorched Earth (Book 1): Good Fences

by Craven III, Boyd

“Truly though, I don’t mind. He’s potty trained and the place is in top shape after the Sandersons helped me get caught up on a ton of projects.”

  “I noticed that. Is that new fencing?”

  “No, just reinforced the old stuff that was there, making it taller. I originally only wanted to do the North fence,” I admitted, “but they are out of work. The factory the four of them worked at just closed down and Mrs. Sanderson has been sick. They’re without insurance and the bills are racking up…”

  “You’re a good man,” Lucy said smiling at me, then turned to her son who had almost flipped his bowl upside down.

  I busted up laughing. I had seen what he was doing; he was tipping the bowl to lick the rest of the Ranch dressing out, and he’d lost his grip. He grinned with a white smeared face and Lucy sputtered as she fumbled with the bowl before it could fall and break.

  “Rawr!” Spencer growled, almost startling his mom into dropping the bowl.

  I lost it and laughed hard until I was almost falling off the end of the chair. A very red faced Lucy was threating vile deeds like no Legos and no coloring books… I got up and got a clean wash cloth out of the hall closet and wetted it. I walked back in and wiped the little man’s face clean and what had slopped onto the table by him. I was about to toss it into the sink when I heard a gunshot go off, then another.

  “Is somebody back there shooting at the range?” Lucy asked.

  “No,” I said pulling my Glock out from the small of my back and making sure it was primed. “That was from the direction of the front gate. You two stick inside, just in case.” I said.

  “Ok, be safe. You’ve got your phone?” She asked me.

  “Yeah, right here,” I showed her with my free hand.

  I left the house without letting the screen door slam and I held the .45 loosely in my hand while I walked down the grass beside the driveway. The shot sounded like it was by the front gate, but it could be just as easily as a kid or some drunks popping off a shot at street signs. In Michigan, anything is possible, but I wanted to be safer than sorry, especially with Lucy and Spencer in the house.

  As I got within sight of the front gate, I saw the flash of tail lights and an old white Ford pickup left the end of my driveway. I didn’t see anybody, but still walked up carefully, watching everywhere. I reached through the gate to check the lock when I got cut. A sharp sliver from the lock got me and I sucked at the wound. I pulled the lock through to my side and saw two slugs flattened and embedded in the lock.

  “Great,” I said.

  I pulled out my keys and tried to open it. I couldn’t even turn the key in the lock. Just my luck. Get the best lock money can buy and it doesn’t pass the test of the locks on TV. They can take a bullet and… Wait, they wouldn’t open if they were shot. This one didn’t either, but now I was stuck inside of the fortress I called a home. Too bad I hadn’t got the license plate of the truck. It looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place it.

  My first call was to Ben, to let him know somebody had tried to shoot out my locked gate. He asked if it was an emergency or could he come by later on today or tomorrow and do his thing. I told him it could wait and then called Randy.

  “Hey bro, what’s going on?”

  “Hey man. Remember about when I was talking to you about padlocks and you told me Krieg’s were the best?”

  “Yeah man, you can’t break into those things. You can’t cut them off and they’re bulletproof—“

  “Funny you should say that, it didn’t unlock but it’s now jammed closed.”

  “What?” Randy asked.

  “I had a front gate put on today. I haven’t been home two hours and somebody tried to shoot the lock off and now I’m stuck inside. I don’t want to wrestle the gates off the hinge pins. It’d take 4 boys to do it,” I told him truthfully, because it had taken everything the four of them had to do it according to Brandon.

  “Hmmm. I’ll be by in a while. You don’t need to run out somewhere do you?”

  “No, I’m a captive audience,” I said with a trace of irony in my voice.

  “Ok, no problem. Let me finish dinner and I’ll call you when I get to the gate.”

  “Thanks buddy,” I told him.

  “See ya soon bro.”

  We hung up and I walked back to the house, making a fist to slow down the bleeding. I walked in and Lucy saw the red on my fist and ran over.

  “I’m fine, just a cut,” I said, holding the Glock in my left hand because I’d cut my gun hand examining it.

  “Put that up, would you?” Lucy asked me sweetly.

  “I can’t reach my holster with my left hand. Here, I’ll put it up on the high shelf for a minute.”

  I turned the water on and then held my hand under it. The cut was right into the meat of my right hand and the water had me wincing in pain. Lucy got my first aid kit out of the bathroom cabinet and gave me a wad of gauze to hold onto while she dried my hand and got supplies out. She got me fixed up right away, but told me I probably should go get it looked at.

  “Do I need stitches, do you think?” I asked her, a little weirded out at how protective she was being.

  “Maybe, I don’t know. I’d just feel better if you got it looked at.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to be shooting tomorrow. I’ll probably rip it back open.” I said.

  Then I sat there for a moment and watched Spencer who’d been eyeing my hand with a look of concern.

  “It’s ok buddy, I got cut, that’s all.”

  “You were bleeding. I fell down once and my leg bleeded right here,” he pointed to his knee.

  “Did Mommy fix you up good?” I asked him.

  He nodded and I heard the approach of a vehicle. Randy’s truck stopped next to the house. How did he get through if the lock was uncuttable?

  “I’ll be right back,” I said.

  I walked out to a happy Randy who stepped out of the cube van holding a pair of bolt cutters.

  “I thought those locks couldn’t be cut!” I protested.

  “I didn’t cut the lock, I cut one link in the chain.”

  The stupidity of the moment wasn’t lost on Randy as I muttered and growled a ‘thanks’ out. He just laughed and accused me of having no lateral thinking.

  “What took me so long was finding you a generic lock. Here, this one’s got four keys,” he said handing me a still sealed package.

  “You went shopping?”

  “No, I use those for locking up the back doors when somebody messes with my truck. Last time I bought two. Figured you needed to relock it.”

  “I do, thanks.” I said, pulling the package open and getting the keys out. I handed one to a very confused Randy.

  “What’s this for?” he asked.

  “We have to do the car swap thing here soon so you’ll be in compliance of the HOA,” I replied, grinning.

  “Duh… Thanks. I see Lucy’s here so I’ll just…” he gestured back down the driveway.

  “Thanks a million, buddy.”

  He left and I headed back in. Lucy was doing my dishes so I tried to bump her out of the way but she told me to knock it off and not to get my hand wet till I’d had it checked. That made sense so I just put the dishes away as they came out of the sink. Spencer must have brought a couple matchbox cars, because he was rolling them across the table making little motor sounds. It all felt a little… Domestic. Weird. If we were taking it slow, how did it feel so right, yet make me feel guilty?

  I shrugged it off and, when it was time to tell them goodnight, I followed them to the gate and locked it behind them. Ben never showed up, but I figured I’d see him the next day. I walked back to the house, my hand smarting, but I was still excited for Sunday, even though I wasn’t going to be shooting. It would be fun!

  11

  “Crap, my phone is dead,” I muttered, looking at it stupidly and unplugging it from the charger.

  I looked at the soft morning sunlight coming in my bedroom window and realized that I’
d overslept somehow. I padded out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen to hit start on the coffee maker. Like a ritual, I’d set it up for the morning. I flipped the button and then headed into the bathroom. I did my business and, as I was brushing my teeth, I noticed the water pressure starting to drop. Confused, my brain muddled, I flipped the bathroom light switch up to see what was going on.

  “Great, the power’s out. No wonder,” I said grumpily.

  My well pump ran on 110v so I knew I could hook up the generator if the power was going to be out for a while, but then it hit me. My coffee machine wasn’t going to work either if the power was out. I sulked for a moment because that meant no internet, no computer time, and no coffee unless I wanted to cook it on the stove in my dad’s old percolator.

  I’d have to find it, but it was probably way past time to do animal chores, so I got dressed, grabbed a basket and headed to the barn. I collected eggs after refilling the hanging feeder to make sure the little velociraptors didn’t attack me, begging for treats. It was a good ploy, so I could sneak the eggs out before some broody hen went all ape on me, or the rooster tried to flog me. I made sure everyone’s water was filled. I’d been spoiling the goats lately with sweet feed and fully expected the twins and Spencer to do so again that day, so I just threw in a handful to let them know that I still loved them.

  The pigs were happy, but it was Ruby who seemed to be smiling. Her 7 little ones that weren’t very little any more were wiggling all around. I noticed that I should change the bedding later on, then I went into the little faraday cage where the little portable Harbor Freight solar panel was. I could set it up on the kitchen table and charge my phone, in case anybody was trying to call.

  In the modern day and age, everyone uses a cell phone it seemed, and I’d long ago gotten frustrated by only telemarketers calling the land line, so I’d had it disconnected. I wanted to call Lucy to apologize for not being up on time, but the phone was dead. Instead, I unboxed the panel and set it up on the kitchen table, and plugged my phone in.

  I grabbed my keys and walked towards the front gate. If Lucy couldn’t call me because I overslept from lack of alarm, I’d have no way of knowing if she’d tried to stop in already. Maybe the gate was a bad idea. In any case, I walked instead of driving my old truck because the morning was a little colder than usual and I wanted to get my blood flowing. There was no way I was going to chance a shower with such low water pressure and I kicked myself for not replacing the pressure tank in the house. A better tank would have at least given me the chance to have a two minute shower, but I doubted I’d get more than a drip the way it was acting.

  I unlocked the gate with a little difficulty, my hand still stinging every time I gripped the key and tried to turn it. I got it open and pushed both gate panels to the sides. The walk back to the house had me almost feeling human and I remembered where I’d last seen my dad’s Percolator; it was in their bedroom with his hunting gear.

  See, when my parents died, I pretty much left everything alone. The room I slept in was my bedroom as a kid and, although the pictures of pinups and baseball stars changed out for more serious pictures, it was still my room. I rarely went into my parents’ room because of all the picture frames that my mom had on the dresser, but I did so about once every other week to dust and make sure that the rodents hadn’t gotten into anything.

  In the distance, I could hear a quad already going where I assumed the state land to be, hopefully having a blast. The ATV trails went for miles and miles. I was almost to the house when I realized the sound was coming up behind me. The gravel crunched and I turned to see Randy flying up the driveway on his old Honda.

  “Dude,” he choked out, “We’ve got a problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I went to bed early last night and I woke up to no power,” Randy told me, his face pale.

  “Yeah, mine’s out too. You worried about keeping the food cold today?” I asked.

  “Brian, my cell phone is dead,” he pulled his Android out and showed me.

  “Yeah, mine died too. I had it on the charger, but the battery must have been low when the power went out.”

  “Brian, my car won’t start, neither will my wife’s.”

  I pondered that a moment and then walked to my truck and dug behind the seat until I found my jumper cables and reached in and turned the ignition on, letting the truck warm up a second.

  “I can come give you two a jump if you need it.”

  “Dude, you’re not getting it. Kill the truck man.”

  “What?” I asked, starting to get agitated.

  It was too early on a morning I’d overslept and had no coffee, and my normally excited best friend was being the biggest Debbie Downer in the world.

  “It happened.”

  “What happened?” I asked, not getting it, wanting coffee.

  “Turn the truck off man, let’s go inside.” Randy got off the ATV and rushed me towards the house.

  I moved the box the portable panel came in and checked my phone to see if there was enough charge to turn it on. If I couldn’t call out from a low battery, I wanted to shoot Lucy a text apologizing for oversleeping and leaving her out there without a way to get Spencer to me. I grunted and un-plugged and re-plugged in my cell phone, then looked at the red light of the charger and saw it was still on, but my phone was dead.

  “Did you have this in the faraday cage?” Randy asked, pointing to the solar panel and cell phone adapter.

  “Yeah, I pulled it out after checking on the bacon bits,” I said, playing with the cord and plugging it in again.

  “Did you miss the smoke on the horizon, towards both Flint and Saginaw?”

  Suddenly I felt my stomach drop and I walked towards the window and looked out. In the horizon there was smoke coming from the Northeast and the Southeast. Now that Randy had mentioned smoke, I realized I’d also been smelling it for some time but had written it off. The interior of the house always had a faint campfire smell from all the logs we’d burned over the years in the flat top wood stove. Smelling it outside hadn’t really triggered any realization but when my un-caffeinated brain put it all together, I could see why Randy had a terrified look on his face.

  “You think it happened?” I asked, my voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.

  “Do you still have your dad’s radio hooked up?” Randy asked, his voice worried.

  “No, my truck battery will run it,” I said reaching into the junk drawer and pulling out some pliers and headed outside.

  I popped the hood and then had a thought. Even though I’d restored the ’68 step-side, I’d put in a modern radio and replaced the speakers. Classic car and truck owners all over the country would vilify me if they knew, but I liked more than AM stations when I drove. I turned the truck on, and reached out to the radio, my fingers trembling. I hit the power button and nothing lit up on it. I killed the truck and opened the hood and had the battery out in a matter of minutes.

  I carried it in while Randy paced nervously, trying to wear a hole in my linoleum floor. He followed me into my parents’ bedroom where my dad had a desk setup with his old radio equipment. I put the battery on the back of the desk and then hooked the alligator style clips up to the posts. I didn’t know much about my dad’s rig, but when I turned it on and all I got was static I went looking for the antenna wire. I found it, and put the wires into the two terminals and tightened the wing nuts. I still got static, but there were other things in the background as well.

  I turned the dial, changing frequencies and found an emergency broadcast.

  “…….. all people are advised to stay at home. FEMA has been alerted and is mobilizing. If the instances of looting and rioting as in Flint, Michigan, Atlanta, Georgia and St. Louis, Missouri continue, the vice president will have no choice but to declare Martial Law. I repeat…..” The transmission cut out for a moment, “…….. This message will repeat once every hour until new information is learned. Thank you.”

  �
��They didn’t say if it was an EMP,” I told Randy after turning it off.

  “No, they wouldn’t,”

  “You bringing the family over?” I asked him, scared.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. Only if things get bad, maybe? I don’t know, maybe it just knocked out some substations. What was it, back in 2005 we were out of power for a couple of weeks?”

  “I remember,” I said.

  “People didn’t go nuts back then, it’ll be good,”

  “People also had running cars. Don’t go driving that thing around too much, or you’re going to be a target if it really is an EMP event.”

  “Or a CME,” Randy muttered.

  “I doubt it’s that. It would have fried the power lines, wouldn’t it? Something’s burning out there,” I pointed to the smoke columns.

  “Airplanes,” Randy said, his face pinched.

  “Planes?” Then it hit me. “Oh shit. Depending on the time of day, there’s something like 5,000 airplanes and jets in the air.”

  Randy gave a look that said he felt just as sick as I did. We both walked to the windows and watched the smoke for a moment.

  “You know, whenever you don’t feel safe there…”

  “I know, man. I just wanted to make sure you knew. We have no way of knowing if this is the first, the last or… I’d put your solar stuff back up for today, just in case it isn’t over.”

  “Ok,” I said, “Can you tell Lucy that I’ll be by in a little bit?”

  “I will, just don’t drive in, OK? I have a feeling that working vehicles are going to become a hot commodity.”

  “I hope you’re wrong.”

  “I hope I’m wrong too. I’ll see you buddy, I’m going to check on my girls.”

  “Can you lock my gate on your way out?” I asked, and Randy nodded.

  * * *

  I put the battery back in the truck and, for the first time in a long while, I made room for it in the garage, backed it in and closed the door. I thought about stripping the battery, but I didn’t. The fictional prepper books I’d read claimed that people didn’t turn into ravenous zombie hordes for at least two weeks, but it didn’t seem to be something to worry about right then. I walked across the fields, hoping that the pigs and goats were now accustomed to not hitting the fence, because without power and without it coming back, the little escape artists would drive me crazy hunting them all down.