Story Threats Within, Threats Without
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
Chapter 48
I won’t forget that day any time soon. I mean karma and all that … possibly … if you believe in that sort of thing.
I wouldn’t say Beau was completely at peace with my decision to check out the cabins above The Gouge that night, but he knew it was my decision to make. He even said so. But he also asked me to promise that I would be careful and if the cabins were damaged, that I’d stay out of them and leave the area. What he followed it with made sense.
“The ground in that area could still be slipping. Look at what happened … or at least what they said happened … over near Hemp. They thought the road had stabilized and … Keegan, two dozen people got buried alive. They still haven’t found two of ‘em.” He gave me a very uncomfortable look.
I told him, “I’ll use the sense God gave me. And … and I won’t do anything to make you worry that I won’t come home … I mean back.”
He hmph’d and looked off through the sunset that was coming. “Home. Yeah, home. Think of it like that. As for the other, you walking out those doors makes me worry. I know I shouldn’t. But I do. And I’m stuck here …”
Quickly, to head off more recriminations I said, “You aren’t ‘stuck’. You’re here doing what you are supposed to … protecting your kids and gathering what information you can because it is only at night that people get on the radios … or at least that is the only time we can hear them.”
“You know how you feel like you should be doing more?”
“Uh … nope. You are not going to catch me by using my own words against me.” I told him. “You have responsibilities. Maybe on occasion they are uncomfortable responsibilities, but you’ve never shirked them. And you are man enough to allow me to have my own responsibilities.”
He sighed and then gave me a sly look. “You sure I can’t convince you? I’d put a lot of … energy … into it.”
I laughed and took two big steps back. “Behave. The kids are lurking here somewhere and I’m not going to be the one to explain things if they start asking pointed questions.”
He made a face then got thoughtful. “You know, that ain’t quite the threat it used to be.” Then he sighed and handed me the pack I normally took … nearly empty so there would be room to bring things back in case I ran across anything … as well as the cord I use to wrap and bring back at least a bundle of wood with. Then he handed me a gun. “Look, I want you to carry this Taurus. I know you been carrying that Kimber but it only carries eight with one in the chamber. The Taurus carries seventeen with one in the chamber. And its flat black, less chance something reflecting on it and drawing attention compared to the Kimber’s stainless. It also means that … look … you may be a good shot but neither one of us has kept in practice. Say you hit what you are aiming at every third shot. That means you have one, maybe two, chances to hit what you are targeting with the Kimber. With the Taurus you’ve got five or six, and that could make a world of difference if it is a bear, or boar, …. or man. It is lighter than the Kimber too so … er …”
I took it from him and I didn’t want to admit that it felt better in my hand than the Kimber did. Instead I decided … well …
I left him looking a little dazed. “Er … I … uh …”
I gave a sly grin of my own before going out the door and heading in the direction that I needed to. No stopping along the way to check out any forage. Not until I got where I was going and made sure there wasn’t anything worth taking there.
I took a rest right before ascending the trail that I’d found that got me up above The Gouge. The trail was steep and I needed to watch for sign of anyone else having used the trail, either human or animal. At the top of the Gouge I stopped and stared. The water had settled down because the rain had stopped falling over a week back. That doesn’t mean it was dry up there but it was drier. But rather than two creeks it looks like a bunch of rivulets running through a flat base. I stayed as far out of the middle as I could. It meant climbing over where a lot of debris had been pushed against either side of what had been the temporary river. The debris concealed some boulders and rocks that had been pushed aside by the raging water. It would have been easier to walk on the flat river bed (sign of the two individual creeks was gone) but it was still just muddy enough to leave boot tracks. Walking on top of the debris gave me more options.
I finally got to the road, or what was left of it. It was mostly all washed out. The first two cabins I should have come to weren’t there, not even foundations. Following what remained of the road took me away from the path the water had traveled. Third cabin I came to had the basement open to the sky. I decided not to risk investigating. The fourth cabin a little further along I decided wasn’t worth the risk either; there was too much obvious damage. Fifth cabin wasn’t washed away by the raging water that had created The Gouge but something wasn’t right about it. It was settled strangely and I saw that boards running from the front to the back that had one of those “scenic porches” was badly cracked.
I was just about to give up and turn back when the road leveled out to what turned out to be a flattened area. I remember my grandfather and I would sometimes come up here and forage because the flat area was protected by the trees and collected damp and was great for mushrooms. Despite the elevation it stayed snow-free most of the winter because of those trees. There were a few newer cabins built along the edge of the flat area. There were also a couple that were nicer and built on the ridge, obviously to take advantage of the scenery on that side.
First three cabins were dusty but otherwise clean. I grabbed the standard paper products and condiments that remained. When I went to check out the linens I found a few bars of hotel soap and hand sanitizer. The linens had me looking a little closer at my surroundings … mildew and dry rot were already in evidence even though I didn’t see any leaks or open windows or doors except for the one I had come in through after bumping the locks on each door. I knew that left evidence of my break in but gloves meant no fingerprints and I tried to sweep away any footprints I left as well as not leave a mess on the floor in the cabins.
When I got to the fourth cabin I immediately became cautious. It was obvious someone had been in there before me. The glass on the door had been broken and the door left unlocked. The kitchen looked like it had been rifled through but I couldn’t tell if anything was taken. The standard paper goods were still there as were several salt and pepper shakers. There was no toilet paper in the bathrooms but the soap was still there. The shelf where the towels should have been were also empty. Nothing else was out of place until I got to the loft and the bed up there was messy, like someone had slept in it. But you know how a freshly messed bed looks and how one that was just left that way for a while looks? There’s a difference. I don’t know that I can explain it but there is definitely a difference. Will this bed, though used, had been abandoned for quite some time, or so it felt for some reason.
I carefully backed out of the cabin and debated on just leaving but something pulled me onward. I didn’t want to go into the fifth cabin just yet. I’ll admit to feeling spooked.
The fifth cabin was the one furthest into the flat area. I carefully reconnoitered and by the time I recognized what I saw I was on top of it. A grow operation. Oh. Crap. My grandfather and I had run up on a few of those, but we always got gone right away and reported it to the rangers and left them to handle things. And we avoided an area for at least a season when we (or someone else) had located and reported a grow operation. It was just safer and wiser to do so.
Grow operations were simply a fact of life in the national forests. They weren’t a nice fact, but it was something that those of us living in or near national forests had learned to live with, no matter how grudgingly.
I stayed in the shadows until I could analyze what I was seeing better. I soon as I started to use my observational skills I could tell this particular operation, though once well on its way to being a highly productive one, was currently not being taken care of. There was normally at least one caretaker around but this one wasn’t doing his (or her) job. Most of the plants were tall, but many had been knocked all askew by the storms. There were even several that stood out in the moonlight as dead. I don’t know enough whether to say the plants had become diseased due to all the rain and damp but most of the damage I saw appeared to be wind damage. Or maybe something else.
I saw a pine that had been struck by lightning. We are probably lucky that it didn’t start a forest fire. The tree was crispy in places despite the rain and the wet conditions. Once I saw that I saw that the plants laying over had a pattern. Yes, some of them were storm damaged but several were blown out concentrically from the pine tree. It must have been a direct hit. And that’s when I realized that some of the “sticks” of the plants and pine tree were sticks.
Cedar Lake
Connecticut Yankee
Hmmmmmm............?
And that’s when I realized that some of the “sticks” of the plants and pine tree were sticks?
And that’s when I realized that some of the “sticks” of the plants and pine tree were sticks?
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Wonderful, wonderful thank you.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Temporary grave markers?
Long bones?
Old broom sticks?
Honestly, I like the view from here.
You know, like take the high ground and scan out to the horizon.
She'll bail us out when time permits . . . . .
feralferret
Veteran Member
Kathy, thank you!
Chapter 49
Okay brain, what keeps making you stutter? There’s a stick. There’s a stick. There’s a stick. Lot’s of sticks. That stick is from one of the plants that blue over. Looks like a central branch. That pile of sticks is from where the pine tree exploded when it was hit by lightning. That stick is … uh … okay … is that a stick? Er … is that … um … what … oh geez. That’s not a stick. Because the not stick is sticking out of a pair of pants … or what’s left of a pair of … urp. That’s … that’s not a stick. Not of those in that pile are sticks. Or what is left of the bottom half of … oh gawd.
# # # # # # # # # #
I did not vomit. It was close but I didn’t. Had there been any smell left I might have but there wasn’t any; not even in the cold night air. I think I was in a kind of shock. I’ve written gross scenes, made sure they were biologically correct by doing research and asking professionals, so it isn’t like I was completely oblivious to what I was seeing. The body, what was left of it, lay partially buried in the debris of the pine tree. I had to take off my night vision goggles and use a cupped hand of my penlight … and getting closer than I was comfortable with … I could see that the clothes on the body were scorched. Out side the pile of debris the bones had been picked clean … what was left of the legs anyway. What I could just make out under under the pile still had flesh on them but they were decomposed. I didn’t see the top half of the body. I doubt the body was blown apart, I mean I don’t think lightning does that. More likely was animal depredation.
I looked around and didn’t see a camp of any kind, not even the remains of one. Camps around grow operations weren’t always obvious but there was often signs that someone was hanging out there. While part of my brain pondered that, another part of my brain was remembering some research I had done for a story.
The speed at which decomposition occurs varies greatly. Factors such as temperature, humidity, and the season of death all determine how fast a fresh body will skeletonize or mummify. A basic guide for the effect of environment on decomposition is given as Casper's Law (or Ratio): if all other factors are equal, then, when there is free access of air a body decomposes twice as fast than if immersed in water and eight times faster than if buried in earth. Ultimately, the rate of bacterial decomposition acting on the tissue will depend upon the temperature of the surroundings. Colder temperatures decrease the rate of decomposition while warmer temperatures increase it. A dry body will not decompose efficiently. Moisture helps the growth of microorganisms that decompose the organic matter, but too much moisture could lead to anaerobic conditions slowing down the decomposition process.
So how long had the body been out in the open? Maybe not as long as normal given how much rain and damp we’d had. That would have encouraged a lot of decomp. Animals opening the body up would have encouraged that as well. Colder temps would have discourage decomp but it hadn’t been particularly cold despite all the cloud cover. The lack of smell? Probably meant it was a couple of weeks old. Maybe even before the catastrophic run off that created The Gouge.
Another thought that occurred to me is that there were only two animals that were likely to have done what was done to the body … hogs or bears. It struck me rather forcefully that I realized I hadn’t seen any signs of either animal once I got up beyond The Gouge. So say whatever happened to the body happened before then. A few weeks back there was a pretty ferocious lightning storm. Even Beau had remarked on it. It had kept me from going out. I’d used my time otherwise wisely and didn’t give it much thought beyond that I was glad it was raining so in case there was a hit there wouldn’t be a forest fire.
I shook my head. I was no trained CSI and could only guess. I looked around for a few minutes but didn’t see anything more. I decided I’d look ever the last cabin and then head back. I wasn’t seeing anything worth my time.
Before stepping up on the porch I looked around and didn’t see any structural damage. I decided to just give a quick look but before I could bump the lock I realized it was open. Giving it another thought I carefully opened the door and stepped inside. I was less worried when I saw the place was pretty dusty, dustier than it should have been so I figured a window was open someplace. A few things here and there on the ground floor – it was a small cabin with no walkout basement area – but nothing major. I was leaning towards a fast evacuation by some tourist(s). The place smelled musty and kinda off.
I crept into the kitchen and thought I had found the smell. The garbage can was full to overflowing. There was also open (empty) food containers on the counter top and dining room table. Opened the cabinets … nothing. Empty condiments sat on the counter as well. Empty water bottles. Empty beer bottles. A coleman stove sat on top of the range. There was a pot on there that looked like it had confetti made out of kitchen rags dried in the bottom of a pot where whatever liquid had evaporated. There were a few dead flies on the windowsills but not many. I’d never seen such a mess in any of the cabins that I’d gone into. It was weird.
I went into the bathroom on that level and it was disgusting. No toilet paper. No soap. The cushions on the sofa looked like they’d been cut open and dragged out but I guess whatever they were looking for wasn’t there. I glanced at the stairs and thought in for a penny in for a pound. I was about halfway up when I noticed something crunching under my boots. Switching to my penlight again it looked like little black balls. I had no idea what was going on.
There was no bathroom up there, only a loft bedroom and it smelled worse than the kitchen had but not horribly. More like a dorm refrigerator that hadn’t been cleaned after the power went out. But I didn’t see one. I did see an open window. I swung my penlight around and then stopped when I focused on the bed. It took me a couple of minutes to figure out what I was seeing wasn’t some towels and blankets. I nearly broke my neck running down the stairs and out the door. I would have kept running if I hadn’t remembered Beau making me promise to be careful.
I tried not to think on the hike back, at least not with the emotional side of my brain. They were a team. One died from being struck by lightning of because they were under the tree when it fell. The other man died by starvation or from eating things he shouldn’t have been eating. I found all the soap containers. There were more empty condiment containers up there which explained maybe why the other cabins had all been empty. The “confetti” on the coleman stove was where he’d been cutting rags and stuff up in to try and feed himself.
I wondered why he hadn’t just hiked out then thought maybe the timeline had something to do with that. He may have been blocked in by the flooding creeks. I have no idea how bad it was but it was bad enough to wash out a couple of the cabins and have them fall down The Gouge. I also noted what looked like a splint on one of the legs of the emaciated remains. Possibly at some point he had tried to hike out and gotten injured and only made it back to break into the cabin. What a horrible way to die. Or I’m assuming that is what killed him … no food, no potable water, could have been waterborne contaminant. He could have tried to eat plants he didn’t know anything about though I didn’t see any sign of plant forage. Perhaps the injury prevented him from being able to find anything. Or maybe fear of what was out in the forest if he’d seen a bear or hogs noshing on the other guy. Dead or not that has to be psychologically damaging.
Oh who was I kidding. All I could do was guess and be smart enough not to follow his example.
I came back by way of some of the timeshare cabins that I hadn’t gone into yet. The Clubhouse and Resort Motel had both been a bust for anything that would be useful to us. Even the maintenance and tool shed had been empty. The only thing I’d been able to take was some powdered chlorine that was likely stocked for the spas.
Those cabins still had a few things in them though I could tell by the mousy smell that rodents were becoming a problem. I saw a few holes chewed in sofas and mouse droppings in different areas. I gave up after a small haul and then hit paydirt when I found a woodpile. I rearranged my pack to carry it on my front and strapped together a bundle of wood and put it on my back after making sure no snakes had taken up residents. I decided that is what I would do for the next few days … bring that wood back for Beau to stack in the garage.
I hiked home. That’s why Beau had said to call it. It’s what I needed it to be.
I was taking off my pack when Beau slipped outside. “You’re back earlier than I expected? Was there problems? Could you not make it up the trail?”
I didn’t know how to answer him. I took off the wood and my pack and just stood there.
“Keegan?”
I walked up to him and laid my forehead on his chest. “I’ll tell you. Just … just make sure the kids are asleep and will stay that way. They can’t hear this.”
beaglemama
Senior Member
Thank you , Kathy! It was such a pleasant surprise to check the member stories page and see that you posted here "a moment ago" 
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Nice find tonight,, thank you much.
Hello Kathy, I found you because an irate fan of yours attacked a copyist of MJOTZY on survivalistboards ages ago, have followed you all over the net, and was sooo happy when I found tb2k some years ago. Your stories have taught me so much, and have also "held my hand" through many difficult years and been an ersatz mom, sister and aunt to me (not grandma, I am older than you, lol). Just want to say a heartfelt thank you and that I hope you and yours manage well through whatever turns out to be happening to Tampa now.
