Prepper Mountain

by Chris Bostic

  He held a flaming piece of cardboard in his hand, which appeared to be the box of some dried noodles. It was probably going to be dinner once some water had been added. Instead, the fire came before the water.

  Dad hurried toward the front of the church, stepping up onto the altar, while I waited numbly by the door.

  “I know I saw some candles back here. Someone’s been in here before.”

  “Yeah, in the cabinets with our other stuff,” Mom said cryptically. “Just hurry.” She lit another match from a booklet they must’ve found by the kitchen supplies.

  Back at the altar, I watched in horror as a chunk of flaming cardboard fell onto the dry hardwood floor. Dad ignored it as he stretched for something in the corner. When a candle sprang to life, he dropped the flaming box and stomped it.

  “That hurt,” he said as he danced on the box while blowing on his fingers. “Almost blistered myself pretty good.”

  “Or worse,” Mom said.

  “At least we have light,” I said. They wheeled around to stare at me.

  “Not for long, kiddo. This isn’t staying lit.”

  “Just look around quick,” Dad said. He quit blowing on his flaming fingers to set the candle on a heavy wooden table in front of the altar. Mom joined him a moment later, and they dropped to their knees to rummage through cabinets in the back of the church.

  While I stood there wondering what they were looking for, Dad pulled out a small box and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  “They didn’t get the gold…not that we can do much with it.”

  “Someday…maybe,” Mom said.

  My parents brought the candle over to the table where the kitchen supplies had been, and I finally walked over to help them.

  “Whoa,” Austin uttered as he stepped into the church. “It looks like a bear ransacked the place.”

  He was correct. The little burner had been smashed on the ground, the metal dented beyond repair. Our plates and bowls were made out of some type of plastic, so they’d been scattered rather than broken.

  More disturbing, all the boxes of dried foods were gone. All our sealed plastic packets of noodles and rice, along with all the tuna and other various meat-like substances, had been taken. Presumably burned out back. I never would’ve thought I could miss the tasteless soy pellets, but it hurt knowing we had next to nothing left.

  Mom backed away from the kitchen area. I felt the agony in the way she hung her head. Years of prepping were destroyed in a moment.

  Dad rubbed her back and whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was, it didn’t help. But she wasn’t one for showing her tears.

  “Gather what you can,” Dad said.

  I looked around again and still found nothing worth taking from our food supplies. I hobbled off toward the back of the church where we’d dumped our gear bags the day before to see if I could at least find something to replace my jeans.

  “How about this?” Austin said, holding up a propane bottle that was useless now that the burner had been wrecked. With his other hand, he jammed a folding knife in his pocket.

  “Sure,” Dad said, and I didn’t understand why at the time. “That’s a good find.”

  I found the contents of my duffel bag dumped on the floor in the back of the church along with several of the other ones. Many of our clothes were missing, probably hauled to the fire. But I was happy to find a pair of khaki pants. They were the tactical type the police wear, not like Dad’s work clothes. If it had been possible, my thighs would’ve applauded. Those pants wouldn’t rub me raw, even when wet.

  Dad, still holding the box of gold coins, brought Mom over so they could also rummage through what was left. I noticed that he checked for the rifle at the door. Of course, it was gone. Mom hadn’t been carrying the pistol either, so Austin’s little knife was our only remaining weapon.

  While I ducked behind a pew to struggle to strip off my soaked jeans, my parents began going through the rest of the pile. They picked out a couple light jackets, a few shirts, and a pair of pants like the ones I finished pulling on. Maddie finally walked inside to join them and froze at the sight.

  Panicked, she asked, “Where’s my stuff?”

  “Haven’t found many keepers yet, hon.” Mom dug deeper into the pile. She pulled out a hot pink shirt, probably one of Maddie’s favorites, but cast it to the side. “Way too bright.”

  “Ma!”

  “You’re not wearing that thing,” Dad said. “It’s a giant target.”

  “Not the lime green either,” Mom said as she picked another shirt out and pitched it. “What’s with all the bright colors?”

  “That’s all I’ve got.”

  Mom stopped searching to stare at her. “That’s seriously all you packed?”

  “Well, yeah. That’s what I like.”

  “Goodness, child.” Mom sighed exaggeratedly. “Looks like you’re sharing clothes with me.”

  If it wasn’t for the rumble of a jet passing overhead, the rangers could’ve heard her wail from miles away.

  CHAPTER 22

  “That’s our cue to get outta here,” Dad said after the plane’s roar turned to a fading growl.

  He took the clothing Mom had selected from the pile and jammed it into a duffel bag, and buried the gold coins inside it too. Unfortunately, they hadn’t left us any of the gear backpacks, which meant no first aid kits, flares, ropes, saws, or the litany of other survival stuff Mom had packed. But at least the duffel had a shoulder strap, not that it was very heavy.

  “So nothing from the kitchen,” Mom said. “What about water?”

  “I didn’t see any of the jugs,” I volunteered.

  Dad agreed, and added, “Surely they wouldn’t burn those.”

  “We’re done in here,” Mom said. “Let’s head outside.”

  Austin had returned to stand over by the back door. There was no telling how long he’d been watching us work. “I tried to check the burn pile, but it was too dark.”

  Dad turned to Mom and she shrugged.

  “Might as well bring the candle outside,” he said. “What could it hurt?”

  Everything, especially when we’d just had another flyover. But desperation seemed to make people do crazy things. And, admittedly, I was just as willing to take that risk.

  We gathered up at the back door before rushing outside like patrons hurrying to get the best seats in a movie theater—not that anyone had been to a theater in months. Hollywood was as shuttered as the other businesses across the country. Dad had told me that the government had some new Ministry of Information that was paying studios to make feel-good films about how the economy was going to turn around but, of course, he’d done nothing but point out all the lies in them. And eventually we’d all quit watching.

  Dad carried the candle to the edge of the fence, but it didn’t make the picture much clearer. The little flame was as lost as a firefly, but it helped draw Maddie over to us.

  We were able to confirm that the rangers had dumped everything over the fence into the cemetery and set the fire on the graves. The idea was still unimaginable to me.

  Austin led Dad over to the gate so they could slip inside to the pile of ash.

  Black soot from the ruins of our supplies covered half the cemetery. But it wasn’t burned all the way. A half-melted plastic tub sat crookedly on the side of the burn pile where the rain must’ve helped spare a small part of it. There was another one behind it.

  “Check that stuff out,” Mom said from the other side of the fence.

  Dad stomped off into the soot. It was too wet for ash to fly, but it still turned the legs of his dress pants black. Ordinarily he would’ve had a fit, but the time to worry about dry cleaning was long gone.

  He tentatively cracked open the first tub and pulled out a handful of plastic sacks. One split open, dumping trail mix into the bed of ash.

  “How are they?” Mom called.

  Dad held the candle close to the other bags. “A couple look okay. We’ve got so
me food.”

  “Found a flashlight,” Austin said. He held it triumphantly over his head, but frowned when the once silver object refused to turn on. “Guess it’s a club now.”

  “Leave it,” Mom said. “Anything else?”

  Sticky molten plastic clung to Dad’s boots as he walked over to the other partially-melted tub. Inside it he found a few unharmed boxes of granola bars, and a sack of dehydrated fruit.

  “The granola might be melted, but we can give it a try.”

  “It’s better than nothing,” Mom said encouragingly.

  Maddie doused any hopeful thoughts. “Hardly. Junk food and no water.”

  “We’ll be fine, hon,” Mom said. “That’s all you ever eat anyway.” She tried to wrap an arm around my sister’s shoulders, but Maddie pushed her away.

  “We’d better get going,” Dad said.

  He blew out the candle when he made it back to the gate with Austin, plunging us into darkness.

  I turned to go, and kicked something hard. It dented with a subdued clunk. Feeling around, I located a single water jug next to the corner of the church. It was still full.

  “We’ve got water,” I said, holding it up proudly.

  “No way.” Mom rushed over to check it out. “Thank God. That’s gonna come in handy.”

  “They must’ve dropped that one,” Dad said. “I should’ve kept the candle lit.”

  “You’ve got matches, right?” Austin said.

  “Just check around quick,” Mom said. “We’re pushing our luck.”

  I got down on hands and knees to crawl partway underneath the church on the off chance another had been dropped. The others searched around too, but there were no more found. Either way, it was slightly encouraging to have the one bottle.

  “Let’s go,” Mom said. “We’re headed down to the highway.”

  “Say what?” Austin said sharply. “Don’t you think-”

  “It’s dark,” Mom argued, though it was getting the slightest bit lighter. Not from morning; that was a long time off. Mostly, the smoke was slowly dissipating. “Just be ready to jump in the bushes if we need to.”

  By the time we were halfway down the driveway, away from the smoky haze from our incinerated supplies, the stars began to poke through the rain-induced fog. A mile away from there it was probably every bit as bright as the previous night.

  Still, there was hardly anything to feel good about. I replayed my small victories in my mind. The new pants were great. I enjoyed the satisfying swish of loose fabric. Finding water and that little bit of food was essential. We’d all taken big drinks before we’d headed off toward the main road. But, overall, my glass was far closer to empty; there was no seeing the half full.

  Maddie was obviously more of a glass half empty too—on a good day. That evening it was shattered, seemingly never to be refilled. Every time Katelyn crossed my mind, or pretty much anything back home, I was right there as low as my sister. Arguably lower.

  She kicked pebbles and spent a lot of time mumbling to herself as we trekked down the driveway. Mom would glance back at her every so often, but no one knew what to say to make it better for her. I couldn’t even console myself, let alone the inconsolable.

  “So where are we headed?” Austin said as we pulled up short of the paved road.

  “The tent camp, right?” Mom said, questioning her own words for a change.

  Dad grunted in agreement. “I hadn’t planned on heading over there so soon, but…”

  “Yeah. It’s not like we have a choice. Might as well see if Spotted Fawn and the others have made it out yet, don’t you think?”

  My head reeled as they talked, trying to keep up with the revelations. I had caught bits and pieces of conversations throughout the previous day, but still knew little about who else might be hiding out in the woods. Before I could ask, Dad answered Mom.

  “Alright. Plan B it is. At the very least, we can warn them.”

  Mom patted the cargo pocket on her pants. “Shame we lost the radios too.”

  “Right, and Dave’s CB.” Dad blew out a big breath and adjusted the shoulder strap on the duffel. “It’s not your fault, babe. It’s all mine.”

  “Just forget it.”

  An uneasy silence took over, and it continued after Austin asked, “And how far is this camp?”

  Mom hesitated. I thought it seemed like Dad fumbled for a map in his pocket, but decided against pulling it out. Finally, Mom said, “Over a couple hills and around a bend.”

  “That’s what I figured. Very specific, Ma.”

  She pushed off Austin’s jab with a quick, “I try.”

  “We need to get across the road while it’s still dark,” Dad said, weakly attempting to change the subject.

  “It’s not that late,” I said. “It’s not even past eleven, is it?”

  Mom looked at Austin. “I know it’s not past your brother’s bedtime…though he is yawning.”

  “I’m not tired.”

  “Too much fresh air?” she asked. “It’s not three yet. Just imagine you’re home playing video games.”

  Austin snorted derisively. “I wish I was. For one, the air smells like-”

  “Enough!” Dad snapped. “Quit the bickering so we can get outta here.”

  Silence fell again over the woods. I heard the shifting of someone’s feet on the gravel, but no one spoke another word. It was rare when Dad got mad, but we all knew to stay out of his way when he lost it. Even Austin knew better.

  Dad dropped the duffel bag to pull out the map, and we stood there pretending to be patient while he held it in all sorts of crazy directions trying to get enough light on it to make out the landmarks. He ruffled the paper irritably, and sighed like a locomotive blowing off steam. Finally, after several folds, he got it situated the way he wanted it.

  “Down the road a quarter-mile,” he said. “We’ll need to skirt the north side of that mountain to get to the Meigs Mountain Trail. That’ll take us over toward Elkmont.”

  “That map has mileage, right?” Austin asked.

  “You gonna complain about it?” Dad said sharply.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then it’s about four miles…once we find the trail.” He threw the duffel bag strap over his shoulder and stomped off.

  As far as I was concerned, there was no point planning on being anywhere near Elkmont by morning. I was dead tired, and the others had to be too. Even if we’d had the strength, I knew from experience that most of the trails were not well marked, especially one as remote as Meigs Mountain. We’d never find it with only a sliver of moonlight. The goal was going to have to be getting far enough off the highway to sleep, and that would have to suffice.

  I only wished they’d had a better suggestion, like hiking back to Gatlinburg and getting a nice room in one of those empty hotels. Then again, I knew that was totally impractical. However, it felt good to fantasize about a soft bed. Too bad I would’ve been stuck in the same bed as Austin while Maddie got a cot to herself. With Dad snoring like a bear from inches away, no one was a winner in that scenario.

  We retraced my earlier steps along the paved road to the creek bridge. Though it was risky, we stayed on the road for ease of travel. The bubbling of water running in the rock-strewn river alongside the road didn’t allow us to hear very well. My body tensed at every strange noise or scuffed footstep until I’d nearly vaulted into the roadside ditch a dozen times.

  Without incident, we crossed the bridge where the stream rushed down from the mountainside to join with the river on the other side. After that, Dad decided we should bail off into the woods.

  “According to the map, we should be able to follow this river,” he gestured to the roadside, “to a creek we can take almost all the way to the trail.”

  “Then lead on, captain,” Mom said.

  He grinned as he pointed at the rocks. “There’s not much to lead. Just follow the water and the rocks.”

  “And don’t get wet,” she added.


  That was easier said than done.

  CHAPTER 23

  We had to be careful hopping off the road into the riverbed. It was a steep drop; the bank was nearly vertical in places. Austin scouted us out a way to slide off the road without crashing into the rocks. The last thing we needed was someone cracking their head open.

  Austin went first, slipping and sliding, and showing us not exactly the best way to get to the bottom. But he made it safely. Dad tossed our bag of clothes to him.

  I grabbed onto a tree branch to lower myself into the riverbed, and settled onto a flat rock well above the water level. Water tumbled over boulders, running shallow over wide, flat ledge rocks. But it roared and splashed around the smaller obstacles.

  “The fork’s up ahead,” Dad said once he’d made it safely to the bottom to join my brother and me. “Not very far.” He stuck out a hand to take the duffel back from Austin.

  Mom showed a hesitant Maddie where to grab, and I went over to help them out.

  “You can do it, sis,” I said, and she shot back a look tinged more with anger than fright.

  “I’ve got this,” she snapped.

  I backed off to let her come down on her own, and it worked out fine. Maddie settled onto the rocks with a deep breath and surveyed the area through tired eyes.

  The road was head height above us. We could walk the river for a long while and feel fairly safe from view, but making it over the rocks was a different story.

  It was not simply stair climbing like going up the steep mountain streams. There were spots in the river we definitely needed to avoid. The water ran deep enough to knock us over.

  Since creeks were sort of my specialty, I set out with Austin to lead us forward. We took turns scouting out the better way to cross, left or right, occasionally calling back to the others if it was shallower one way or another.

  We hadn’t gone twenty paces before the water had gone over my boots twice, and I thought we’d almost lost Austin once when he’d stepped off into a hole that kept going down. I skipped over to grab his arm as he sunk to his waist.