Story Threats Within, Threats Without

Kathy in FL

Kathy in FL

Administrator
_______________

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.
 
Kathy in FL

Kathy in FL

Administrator
_______________

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.”
 
I

Icebear

Member
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.
 
Kathy in FL

Kathy in FL

Administrator
_______________

Chapter 50​


I’m staying away from buildings. Twice more I’ve found dead bodies. I’m done. And there’s really nothing to gain hunting through the cabins anymore.

I’m not even going to recount the other bodies because they were so decomposed that anything I thought, hypothesized, theorized or anything else would be something not even the lamest editor would have glossed over in a review. I mean … okay, let me say this. One body was likely an addict given the paraphernalia I found with him/her/it. The other looked like … well it looked like a murder suicide of five people. Thank the Sweet Lord none of those five were children. But I’m done. Done. Just completely and totally done with buildings. They offer nothing anymore.

This is a lesson if I ever return to writing dystopian and/or disaster stories. Real life experiences trump theoretical survival stories. I’ve tried to explain to Beau how fast all the manmade structures are deteriorating. Maybe decomposing would be a better description. Some of the oldest cabins are holding up better but not in any meaningful way. They also suffer from carpenter bees, termites, and lack of upkeep. Roofs are leaking, and erosion is taking buildings out of square so beams are falling in, erosion around beams that support raised porches or above walk out basements are causing things to collapse, basements are full of water damage, metal is rusting, windows breaking allow nature inside, there is mold and mildew growing in all of them to one extent or another, dry rot is prolific. Nature has taken up residence any place it can … not just bees and termites, but squirrels, raccoons, bears, hogs, bats, birds, and I’m sure there are snakes in at least some of them.

The night I came back from above The Gouge all I could do was walk up to Beau and wordlessly beg for comfort … for him to be solid and real and warm. He gave me tenfold. After I’d explained he said like it cost him, “Keegan, I’m gonna ask nice but … don’t go up there no more.”

I shook my head, and he must have thought for a moment that I was saying no until I croaked out, “Not in this lifetime without hella good reason.” When I shuddered, he brought the mug of chai tea closer to my mouth, and I sighed and raised it the rest of the way. I couldn’t eat anything, but I still needed something warm in my stomach to drive off the chill that didn’t want to go away.

I refuse to completely give up, winter is coming. I still need to do more. Forage more, bring in more of anything I can find, make more plans. That said, after finding more bodies within a week? Just no. I got what I could from the timeshare cabins on the old homestead property and then I just stopped. At least going inside. Beau was correct, I didn’t need more scars in my head. And in one memorable accident nearly falling through a floor because of a rotted board, I don’t need more scars on my head either.

Something I should have been doing is checking all the propane tanks and propane canisters for fuel. That’s one thing I didn’t know how to do so I put it from my mind since the propane and was still deep … until I learned it wasn’t as deep as it used to be because we hadn’t been able to depend on the solar set up because of the rainy months. I learned to refill[1] the smaller “portable” BBQ grill tanks from the various main cabin tanks with Beau’s tutoring. I’ve exhausted every tank within reasonable distance. When it is gone it is gone.

I’ve also been moving all the wood I can find. Some of the wood piles were full of rotten wood so I had to pick through it, but one piece of wood is one piece of wood we won’t have to cut for ourselves. Beau has also dragged limbs towards a shaded area near the Mancini place and has been breaking it down into lengths that can be used in the wood stove and fireplace which is what we are going to have to start heating with in the not too distant future. It gets up into the 70s in the middle of the day but by the end of October that will change to the 60s and 50s with nighttime lows potentially in the freezing range.

To say September has been a rough month for me isn’t an exaggeration. The Gouge, dead bodies, shrinking and deteriorating manmade resources like the cabins, and the adjustment reactions from all the depressing news. I’ll get to the news in a bit.

Not all of September has been horrible. I did make one rather providential discovery. What I thought was leftover from a garbage dump site at the old homesite turned out to be the leftovers of a “decorative fall garden”. Animals, primarily what looked like birds, had gotten into a lot of it but I managed to save what I could, and I’m determined to try and make something of the remains.

There were some rather pathetic bell peppers and tomatoes that I collected and I’m praying that the seeds aren’t hybrids and will germinate once I plant them next year. The fact that they are “volunteer plants” makes me think so but I’ve forgotten so much. I hope the answer to that question is in my books or files some place. Yet another area that I need to do more of … organizing some shelves and filing cabinets so I can empty and stack the plastic filing boxes I shipped all my books and research papers in.

I missed the volunteer corn but found a couple of cobs dried on the stalk and I’m hoping they too germinate next year. The aluminum fencing fell over the row that held the volunteer pumpkin and squash vines, saving them from the local wildlife if not from the bugs. They were small and had really hard rinds. Beau and I made use of them in meals, saving what seeds we could though the kids got their share after they were roasted. The biggest deal was several sweet potato plants that the animals didn’t seem to have found at all, not even the moles, and the way they came up made it obvious they were from runners off of slips, rather than intentionally planted that way. It was a healthy harvest, but I’ve set several potatoes aside to get slips from to replant as soon as it is feasible to do so.

After speaking to Beau we decided to try our own hand at a garden, but more along the lines of what used to be called “gorilla gardening”. I used the plant beds around the Mancini place. It looked like a ridiculous mess but I’m hopeful because it looks like the Turnips are already germinating. I have arugula and radishes growing in old wooden planters tucked in sunny locations as well. Getting good dirt to fill those containers wasn’t easy and now a compost pile is on our list of projects once the weather changes.

Despite the rain of the last couple of months, I’ve managed to find bushel baskets of grapes[2] and muscadines[3] for preserving. More than a few got eaten fresh, and not always with permission and the tummy troubles of a certain little girl was proof of that. It meant locking the refrigerator and keeping the key in an out of reach location. Beau and I both worried that could activate an inherited inclination for an eating disorder but we were just as, if not more than, worried about the danger of her eating something or too much of something that wound up not being good for her.

Following the old trails I used to go on with my grandfather, I also found the motherload of a few other foraged fruits; wild black cherries, high bush cranberries (actually viburnums that don’t require a bog), autumn olive berries, pawpaws, wild persimmons (at least the ones the hogs didn’t get), and crabapples. None of the fruit looked as healthy and blemish-free as I remembered from when I was a kid, but given how bad the weather was for so long I suppose it isn’t unexpected. I just disguised what I could and ignored what I couldn’t and neither kid (nor Beau) seemed to notice.

I got a couple of buckets of wild plums but not as many as I should have, and I had to go “down” to find what I did. A couple of explanations for that came to mind but none of them made me happy. The weather or weather-related damage had compromised any potential harvest. This included the creation of The Gouge which still has a decent amount of water running down it. Nothing extravagant but that still said that the lay of the land had been changed so significantly that all the water captured by the mountain mist was being funneled down to the lower elevations through that new pathway.

Another possibility is that the animals (or humans) are desperate. I hadn’t seen any signs of people since the night of The Gouge’s slide (at least no live people). I know that there are some animals trapped on this side of the slide until things dry up, more like they will probably do over the winter. That’s going to create problems as soon as the easy pickings are gone. We don’t need more erosion from bark being stripped and girdling trees and killing them. Nor do we need people getting so desperate they’ll hunt up the old back trails to hunt and forage for their families though there is some of that that isn’t likely, at least around here and that’s part of that “news” I’m putting off recounting.

Yet another troubling thought is that I’m off my rocker and nothing is as it seems. I might not be as good as I thought I was, not remember as much from my childhood as I need to, the world doesn’t work quite like we are surmising it does, etc etc ad nauseum.

I’m not wrong about them spraying the kudzu at the lower elevations, I was just wrong why. I thought it was to prevent people from eating it. What they were actually doing is preventing people from hiding in it and using it for potential highway ambushes or using it to travel beneath it to hide from aerial reconnaissance. I’ve been worried they would overspray the mountains around here and one of my main wild greens would be gone. And I’m not sure what their sprays would poison besides the kudzu. Because of this I snipped many bushel baskets of the stuff to bring back to the Mancini place and used it nearly every day in some way[4]. The other wild “greens” I harvested include Amaranth for the seed heads to add to flour options, sorrel because it was plentiful in places and to practice in case the kudzu because unviable, and all the various mints I could find.

I “found” another bee tree, or should I say it found me when I leaned against a tree and pulled away feeling something sticky on my coat. The hive wasn’t pleased to find me either. I was glad I had gloves on and a hood on the jacket. They didn’t chase me far, but I tripped running and slid on my butt no small distance before grabbing a bush that turned out to be a persimmon tree masquerading as a bush. So yes, I had persimmon pulp all over my backside as well as sticky honey on the back of my jacket and in my hair. That was a fun mess to explain to Beau. Thankfully all he said was, “I’ve had me a few of those kinds of accidents in life. You don’t ask me to explain mine chapter and verse and I won’t bother you about this one. Just don’t be hurt.”

And by hurt I mean he constantly worries that I’m going to get injured. Well, I didn’t tell him how close to a drop off I came, and he was smart enough not to ask. The tree the honey was in wouldn’t have survived another windstorm (and didn’t unless a bear pushed it over for the leftovers) and the bees had already been moving some of it. It’s probably why the tree was leaking honey. They’d already moved most of the pretty honey, so I didn’t bother them on that and just took the older, darker honey. I wouldn’t mind having some beehives if I could protect them from bears which is a never-ending struggle in the mountains. I have sugars and other sweeteners and Beau has more than a little bit himself, but if we are primarily looking at food preservation as our way to obtain and save food for the kids (and us) then I need to go over my grandmother’s family journal (and my mother’s) to see what I can come up with in terms of ideas. But both of them had access to stores to buy what they need, so it might be better to look at the old recipe cards and “receipts” left by my earlier ancestresses. Another project for cold weather.

Some days I get lucky and bring back other things. I’ve found honey mushrooms (no relation to the bee incident), fairy potatoes (though not in quantity), and then I found a small grove of chestnut trees which I’ve so far been able to get about two bushels from that the animals haven’t gotten to. I wish I could get to the grove of hazelnuts that the family used to go glean but that would require going to the lower elevations and across the slide caused by The Gouge and that’s simply not happening, assuming they are even still there and have anything on them. I hope my Nutella and other hazelnut spread varieties last for a long time. I could probably get Tess to walk over hot coals if there was a spoon of Nutella at the other end of it.

Sigh. Enough. I’m avoiding recording the news and … and … it needs to be done so I can keep things straight in my head and build a timeline.

[1] How to Refill Propane Tanks at Home - Independently Powered
[2] 12 Ways to Preserve Grapes
[3] Preserving Muscadine Grapes for Long-Term Storage: A Complete Guide
[4] SouthernAngel's Kudzu Recipes garden shed
 
Kathy in FL

Kathy in FL

Administrator
_______________
Chapter 51


“Keegan, you need to sit down.”

You know nothing good is coming when something like that hits you as soon as you walk in the door. It couldn’t have come on a crappy day. No. It had to come on the first really good day I’d had since I found the murders/suicide. As blasé as I tried to act to cover up things, the truth is those bodies are showing up in my nightmares, but instead of the decomposed bodies of whoever they were they are Beau, Tess, Travis, and myself … and I am the one who dies with the gun in my hand.

“I need to do something with this brace of field dressed doves. How does Grilled Dove with Blueberry BBQ Sauce[1] sound?” I asked trying to hold at bay whatever was coming.

With a very serious look on his face he answered, “Better than it has any right to but … let’s put them in the cooler. We need to talk.”

I was hanging onto my patience but just barely and only because I knew that Beau didn’t deserve the blow up that wanted to jump out. “Great Good Lord Above, what now?” It wasn’t a whine so much as an I’m-reaching-my-limit kind of question.

He helped me to find room in the fridge for the birds. Stood there while I washed my hands. Then herded me downstairs. I knew it had to be bad if he didn’t want the kids to hear it. Or maybe he didn’t want them to see me react to whatever he felt I needed to hear.

We sat and I was trying to wait him out but it wasn’t helping my nerves. Right about when I was going to ask him just to spit it out, he said quietly, “A bomb went off in New York City.”

I just kept looking at him. My brain was disconnected from what I’d heard. Finally I managed, “What … what kind of bomb?”

Another pause then he said, “Small neutron bomb[2]. Targeting the UN compound.”

Trying to stay calm I asked, “And we know this how?”

Obviously trying to not be irritated that I possibly didn’t believe him he answered, “The Whitehouse has it on loop.”

“What do you mean it has it on loop?” I asked, getting tired of pulling it out of him a wretched piece at a time but understanding he was in his own version of shock.

Putting it all together, basically the bombing appears to have been by person or persons unknown using an airburst type … maneuver? Whatever you want to call it … tactic maybe? I’m not sure what to call it. My brain was fried by the fact there had been a bomb in NYC.

“Keegan? You got any research in that library of yours?”

“Huh?” The question caught me off guard.

“The Whitehouse, or people saying they were speaking for the Whitehouse ‘cause it wasn’t the President or any of her Cabinet, were a little thin on details of what exactly that is going to mean. Uncle Finis could talk a good line with them friends of his, but I don’t think they really had much more than a five-gallon bucketful of doomer fiction as back up for their assumptions.”

“Uh … actually I’ve written about this. It is in one of my unpublished stories.”

“Yeah? So … so you know what them saying a neutron bomb could mean? For my kids?”

And there it was. It wasn’t panic, it was protection. I pulled myself together with difficulty and went over to one of the file boxes I had some notebooks in with printed copies of stories and the research that went with them. It would have been easier to have been able to search a document with the computer, but it was faster than getting my set up out of lock up where I kept it in a type of faraday cage box.

“What was the delivery system? You know, was the bomb already there or what?”

I could tell he was trying to shake off the shock the same as I when he scratched his head and answered, “They said they’d been tracking two planes that just sort of appeared on someone’s radar. Apparently, they’d been flying pretty low but was then spotted by someone on Nantucket.”

“Weird place.”

“Yeah. What’s weirder is the two planes were originally reported as UFOs and that they’d been coming in from the Atlantic. They were heading SSW.”

I moved things on my desk and looked at the map that was under glass.

“Okay, what else?” I started plotting points with an old-style grease pencil.

“Military jets intercepted them because they were heading straight for the Maryland/DC area … I mean like a beeline, or so the person doing the explaining claimed. When the planes didn’t respond to any efforts to identify themselves or break off from their heading, or what people thought based on the direction and angle they were traveling, the fighter jets were given permission to force the two planes down.”

“What kind of planes were the enemy planes?” I was calling them that but who the heck knows exactly who or what they were.

Beau answered me by saying, “Commuter jets based on the description but don’t ask me nothing else about that ‘cause I’ve never flown a day in my life. Hell, I get sick on a damn Ferris Wheel.” All I did was blink and think it must be a phobia because he could play monkey on the roof just fine. “Not one of them big passenger planes anyway.”

“But it would have had to have been big enough to drop a bomb.”

“As to that, the news says that the plane was the bomb and it might have been a drone. Both of them might have been. They aren’t saying much about the first plane that was forced down so I don’t know what to tell you beyond the first plane supposedly trying to flying into the path of the fighter jets all kamikaze style based on the story they told. But the second plane kept going and the order was given to shoot it down. That’s when they brought up that they think the plane might have been damaged because it started acting like a bug that had gotten swatted and changed headings and … and the plane was damaged when they shot at it but they couldn’t just take it out all willy nilly because they were over a populated area. No one is releasing exactly what happened next except the plane suddenly started going down and it was heading straight for NYC and the UN building there. But they said it was … er … they said it was a steep but controlled descent, not ‘cause it was falling out of the sky. And then before it hit anything, it exploded surprising everyone. The three jets were … they were too close to escape the blast so everything is based on radar and the descriptions from the fighter jet pilots before the blast.”

“That low?”

“No, it went off a few hundred feet above the ground.”

“So still low but not like they were inches from hitting the ground low. And I’m sorry, I’m not as cold as I probably sound. I’m … I’m just trying … trying to …”

Beau put his arm around me and said, “I asked. You’re trying to give me something to work with. I’m just sorry I had to ask.”

“Don’t be. Let’s just … let’s just figure out what we can. A low air burst of a neutron bomb.” I shook my head. “When did they say this happened?”

“They didn’t give much in the way of details but figure… they were probably forced to let the cat out of the bag as things spread from being seen by those within seeing distance and then anyone watching from other countries with their satellites and stuff. The explosion of a neutron bomb ain’t exactly something you can ignore or hide.”

“No, no it isn’t,” I agreed. I was afraid to ask, “Did they retaliate?”

“They want Congressional approval, say that’s what they are waiting for and for complete confirmation of who was in control of the plane that was the bomb.”

I shuddered. “Two thoughts on that.”

“And I’ve probably been wondering about it myself. If they wait, more bombs could be heading out direction. If they don’t wait, they either already know who did it and have had it planned out… or worst, it was done by our own government to get rid of the UN mess. But what about an EMP? Uncle Finis and his friends were always on about how something like that could take the country back to the Dark Ages and crap.”

Trying to pull my thoughts together I asked, “Are you sure they called it a neutron bomb and not just a nuclear bomb?”

“Er … definitely called it a neutron bomb. Why?”

I explained pointing to my notes, “A neutron bomb is a specific type of nuclear weapon. It’s designed to maximize radiation and minimize blast and heat effect. I mean yes, a neutron bomb is a nuclear device but …”. I stopped and shook my head. “This is … is … oh my Lord. This is like splitting hairs but a neutron bomb can create an EMP effect but it isn’t like a single bomb is going to be able to knock out all of the technology in this country. A neutron bomb is more … er … targeted. It’s meant to kill people but not physical infrastructure. It is a people killer, not a building or technology killer.”

“But they said the UN compound was destroyed and a bunch of stuff around it.”

I shrugged. “The blast and heat radius of what you described means approximately 500 feet in all directions would be the immediate effects of the bomb. Neutron and gamma rays would extend approximately 1.5 miles from the center of the blast. Based on my book research, high-energy neutrons, though short-lived, could penetrate armor or several yards into the earth and would be extremely destructive to living tissue. Because of its short-range destructiveness and the absence of long-range effects, the neutron bomb is considered highly effective on the battlefield but might not endanger nearby cities or other population centers. It could be launched on a short-range missile, fired by an artillery piece, or possibly delivered by a small aircraft which is what was used in this instance.”

“Okay fine, but what does that mean for us? I already worked out that it is about 830 miles between us and the UN. Gotta say that still don’t mean shit to me.”

I could tell Beau was more than a little fried. It made me cautious with my answer. “I’m … not sure it means anything right now.”

“The hell you say.”

“Beau, it was one bomb of a type meant to be targeted, not scattered, in effect. They spoke about only the UN compound being primarily effected though there would obviously be some residual damage as debris blew outward from the blast zone. The radiation is primarily the short-lived type. The area will be able to be occupied within hours to a few days … like a battlefield situation which is what they were designed for. I’m not saying there won’t be some fallout but again, it is going to be less and more targeted than other nuclear type bombs because it didn’t suck up a lot of dirt and stuff to throw it up into the sky to rain down after it get irradiated. I can’t say for sure what happen in locations around NYC but I’m pretty confident that we should be okay. I’m more concerned with what happens next and does it spread.”

















[1] Blueberry Barbecue Sauce - Huckleberry or Blueberry BBQ Sauce


[2]
View: https://youtu.be/OGHAp50ZsMc?si=QkL3ZfcpKPdaHUt_
 
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