Post by warsparrow on Jul 17, 2014 12:58:37 GMT -6
Suburban Myth
Chapter 1
Change
The stupid copier was jammed again.
Why was it that just because he worked in the office on nights people automatically assumed that he could fix it and that it was his responsibility to do so.
Frank sighed as he opened the side door to access the feed rollers and removed the crumpled piece of paper. They guy from the shop floor just stood and watched him. He reclosed the door; made sure everything came up green and hit the print button.
And the office was plunged into complete darkness.
The guy from the shop floor actually laughed.
Frank just shook his head and waited for the emergency lights to come on.
And waited.
And waited.
Nothing.
That was strange. He reached to his pocket and pulled out his Maglite.
The flashlight lit up the office and he could see through the window onto the factory floor. It was completely black. Not even the towmotor lights were on.
He heard a deep rumble from somewhere outside the building.
Then he knew.
He didn’t even have to guess, but knew.
Some kind of attack. Nothing but an EMP or Nuclear event would knock out both Wall power and kill a motor vehicle instantly. He looked at his Citizen Ecodrive. It was still working at least.
The floor guy produced a small flashlight of his own on his keychain and left the office; not saying a word to Frank as he did so.
Frank decided he needed to go and go now. He grabbed his coat from the rack by the door and began moving.
He flashed the light around the office stopping on the pictures of his two daughters, without even thinking he grabbed them, being careful not to tear them where the tape held them in place.
He also grabbed the half empty water bottle and cola he had been drinking throughout the day. He could deny it all he wanted but even he knew he was a caffiend. He put on in each of his coat pockets and took out his hat.
Just then a light flashed through the glass of his door leading to the factory floor.
“Hey” a voice said.
It was the floor Inspector.
“Sup?” Frank said, surveying the room again.
“Supervisor’s having a meeting in the cafeteria” He said.
“I’ll be there in just a minute; I want to shut everything off just in case the power comes back on”
Frank lied.
“K; don’t take too long” He said and was gone.
Frank turned off the main power strip to the computers, and then headed into the other room where the tool cabinet was.
Inside was literally filled with tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of Hi tech tools, gages, and specialty items. He wasn’t interested in any of that; now more than likely they were just shiny paperweights in very nice wooden boxes.
He went to the drawer that held the more mundane items and selected the two he wanted, a box knife and a scribe made from an old screw driver. They weren’t the best weapons, and he already had a knife on him, but as the old saying goes; 2 is one, and 1 is none.
As he left the office, more out of habit than anything he turned the AC off and flicked the light switch.
It would likely be a very long time, if ever before he saw his office again.
It was a straight shot from his office door, down the hall to the cafeteria; or it should have been if one of the electric tow motors hadn’t died right in the middle of the lane, still with a steel coil suspended from its forks.
He managed to edge his way around it by the light of the solitaire and could see half a dozen or more beams of light coming from the cafeterias windows.
He opened the door and scooted inside, the supervisor; a grizzled old man, who had been at the factory since the early seventies and was well past retirement age, was already talking. Frank took a quick look around for a seat; there were plenty. ‘A lot of people must have already snuck out’ Frank thought as he took a seat close to the door; next to the other supervisor.
“….looks like the whole city’s lost power, there seems to be a fire west of us, somewhere near the airport”
Frank didn’t need a crystal ball to guess what that was, even this late at night there were people flying somewhere.
“That was just a quick look, it’s pretty dark out” he said holding up his hands as some people started to ask questions.
Frank turned to the other supervisor.
“You mind if I grab a couple bottled waters out of the fridge? The walk home might be exhausting”.
“Walk home, you’re not going to drive?” He replied.
Frank shut up; maybe he had too much already.
“Listen up people since the time clock is electric, if you want to get paid for today; you’re going to have to sign your name and clock number on this here note pad.”
“Are we going to have to stay the hour or so until shift end?” Someone whose face Frank couldn’t see asked.
“Why, you got a working clock?” the supervisor asked.
Two more guys came in out of the factory and went straight to the supervisor. They exchanged a few words.
“Ok here’s the deal; apparently no one’s car will start either” That created an uproar.
The other supervisor looked over at Frank; he squirmed a little.
“Hold on, Hold on! Hey Shut your mouths” The supervisor yelled.
People Quieted down somewhat.
“This is how its gunna go, we gotta lock up” he said pointing to the supervisor next to Frank. “So grab your shit out of your lockers and head to the employee door, I’ll log you out. You can decide what you want to do once you’re out there; but you can’t stay in here”
People began shuffling toward the door; Frank heard more than one unhappy comment about the situation.
He really didn’t have anything of importance in his locker; a high visibility vest for when he was working on the floor, a windbreaker he had gotten as a gift from the company, and a few snacks he kept there for when he just wanted something small. He couldn’t see putting a dollar and a quarter into the vending machine for something he could get at the dollar store 3 for a buck.
“How did you know?” The question caught him completely off guard; he had been so engrossed in his own thoughts.
“Lucky guess?” Frank tried with a weak smile. Then he realized that as dark as it was with everyone heading to their lockers, that the supervisor wouldn’t see it.
“Go on grab a couple, we’ll talk outside” He said.
Frank nodded into the dark, grabbed two bottles on the way past and headed to the locker room.
The locker room was of course a chaotic mess. Light beams flashing all over as people changed into their street clothes, jostling, bumping, and swearing, everyone yelling out their opinion of what was going on.
Frank wound his way to his locker and quickly opened it; all he had was his bag of lunch so he unceremoniously swept the contents into the plastic grocery style blue bag.
“I’m telling you it’s like that war of the worlds remake, no one’s car starts, and planes dropping out of the sky; if I go outside and see a giant alien robot I swear I’m going to sue somebody!”One guy was saying.
“So if you go outside and there’s like a giant American robot, you’d be all cool with that right?” Someone bantered back.
“You know what Alverez you can suck…..”
On that note frank left the locker room, and into the wash rooms.
‘Never pass up a chance to urinate’ wasn’t that one of Hippocrates sayings?
Finished there he made his way to the employee door, it was open and a gentle breeze was working its way down the hall past him.
“Frank” the supervisor said as he exited and put a check mark by his name, and had him sign it.
About half the cars in the parking lot had their hoods up, and people were staring dumbfounded at the stuff underneath; poking and wiggling various bits and things, as if that would magically make their vehicle the exception to what has obviously happened to all the vehicles around them.
Frank walked over to his minivan, an 11 year old Nissan; and opened the back hatch.
He didn’t hate the van, it wasn’t his favorite, but it did everything he needed it to do and with enough room in the back to keep the wife and kids happy with their stuff.
He had read a lot of PAW fiction when he was younger Jerry Ahern, Kurt Saxon, and a lot of others; and one thing he had found with the exception of Lucifer’s Hammer was that all of the protagonists were prepared, not just prepared, but over prepared.
They had the coolest gear, the best Bug out vehicle, custom guns, hide outs, double of everything.
Reality however was a completely different animal; most people couldn’t afford a custom Bren, Asp, or Devel. Not everyone could drive a unimog to work, or tricked out hi lift diesel.
In The back was his first responder First aid kit, a blanket for the kids (Orange with white ghosts), a few misc. tools and a walking stick.
He had completely forgotten about the stick, he had made it a few weeks earlier when he took his older girl down to the reservation to do some hiking. It was about 5 feet tall, some kind of mystery hard wood and had a knurl at the top; almost like a cudgel.
He had always wanted to get a get home bag in the truck, but with 2 children and his wife not working, there was little left in the way of preparedness money.
‘oh well’ Frank thought.’ There’s nothing to be done about it now’
He took it all including the blanket, which he tied like a haversack over himself. He also found a pair of work gloves, that he stowed in the blanket.
The first aid kit had loops to fit on his belt, where he put it, and the lunch he didn’t finish went into the blanket as well.
He heard a truck start in the back of the lot and immediately drive off. He guessed it was Wilson in his 20 year old F250 Diesel. He saw some people trying to wave the man down but he didn’t stop.
Frank couldn’t blame Wilson; chances are if he picked everyone up he wouldn’t make it home himself.
He closed the Nissan and out of habit locked it.
The supervisor walked over, frank knew he didn’t live too far away from him.
Which way you going?” He asked.
“Straight east then cutting through the cemetery, you?”
“I’m gunna take 100th south to Stanton and then west, cutting through the cemetery creeps me out; bad juju. It might take me a little longer but at least I won’t fall into an open grave in the dark”
“Take it easy then” Frank said and started walking, using the walking stick like a cane.
Chapter 2
The Factory where Frank worked was like many factories located in an older area of the city, surrounded by other abandoned factories vacated long before the current economic downturn happened; along with neglected houses, used car lots and open brown fields. An area Dotted with bars, auto repair shops, tattoo parlors and empty store fronts.
He could hear people outside the nearest bar from where he was walking; some land mark drinking establishment on the corner of 100Th. He couldn’t make out words, just the general babble of voices.
As he approached the intersection he could see that the bar had set up tiki torches around the deck and a few of the ww2 style candle in the wine bottle neck for light; luckily it was a calm enough night not to blow them out or knock them over and start a fire.
The light let him see people from his work both in front of and behind him walking; and he thought he saw a few at the bar too but that wasn’t his concern.
“Frank. Frank” Someone from the bar’s outdoor patio called to him.
He was tempted to ignore it but they detached themselves from the cluster of people milling about talking and came over.
They were pretty close before Frank recognized him as the floor inspector Mick.
“Hey Mick” Frank said.
“Buy you a drink and pick your brain??” He asked.
“Not sure if that’s a good idea. I got at least a 2 hour walk home” frank started to protest.
“Come on, might be the last time you taste a cold beer on tap, ever”
Frank had to admit, Mick made a powerful argument.
“Ok one, ask your questions, then I gotta go. Wife and kids are probably already freaking out”
“Done” Mick said, and led him to the bar where three other people were conversing in low tones.
“Donna, Darnell, and Ian” Mick pointed to the three in turn; Mick said the last like it was British.
Frank introduced himself and shook hands all around.
“Shot and a beer” mick called and laid a ten on the table.
Frank was going to protest when Ian spoke; he really was British.
“We have all came to the same conclusion” he started “and we were wondering if you’ll concur”
He said it in such a low voice that frank almost didn’t hear him over the crowd.
“That depends” Frank paused to slug his shot.
Nothing like good single malt.
Then continued.
“What have you deduced so far?” Frank eyed all three.
“Man made” Donna Started.
“Definitely on purpose” Mick said.
“But the timing is a mystery” Darnell finished.
Frank was getting the sneaking suspicion that these four may have interacted before; and not just at a bar. Survivalists? Preppers?
“EMP” Frank said.
All three nodded.
He took a long pull from his beer.
“The entire dynamic of the world has changed tonight” Frank said. “I have no idea who, where or why; and likely we’ll never know”
“But as of now your priorities are security, water, food and shelter; because tomorrow people are going to wake up and realize their world just got a whole lot smaller”
Smaller. Did he mean smaller? Or bigger?
Nothing like good single malt.
“Beans, bullets and bandaids” Donna said.
“With their cars not working, no more 20 mile drives to pick up take out, no more 20 mile trips period.”
Mick said.
“When people see that no more food is coming, it’s going to get bad, South Africa bad” Ian said.
Frank finished his beer.
“Another for the road?” Mick asked.
“No. if I don’t go now I might not be able to walk home” Frank replied.
He was just about to turn and leave when a brilliant light to the east lit up the sky.
A concerted cry rose from the assembled crowd.
“Jet fuel from that crashed plane” Darnell said.
About 2 Seconds later the noise came, not unlike a huge fireworks boom, but longer and deeper.
“That’s my cue” Frank said.
“Here” Ian took the pen from Frank’s shirt and scribbled something quickly with it. “Remember this number”
Frank looked at it as Ian put his pen back.
15260 KHZ.
“The BBC” Frank said.
“Excellent” Ian said. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to get it in, and when you do” he stepped closer.
“Don’t forget to check out the 2 Meter bands too” he said and put a finger to the side of his nose.
Chapter 3
Frank walked past the closed gates of the cemetery; there was a police cruiser there, abandoned.
Frank knew the cop usually sat in wait for drunks and speeders there. Now it sat with its windows down and a quick look inside showed the shotgun was gone too.
He went around to where the fence ended and the pine trees made a cheap picket, just to keep the honest people honest.
While it was dark he figured he had a very low chance of there being anyone else around. He quickened his pace a little; just to make up for the lost time of being at the bar.
Franks mind wandered.
The Cemetery was old. Established in the early 1800’s it covered from just south of the highway all the way to Stanton Ave. and from 100th all the way to West Ave.
A decent working class neighborhood sprung up around it, intermixed with local factories and a few monument and stone cutters.
Then the suburbs sprang up and it turned into a slum, filled with renters and later crack houses. Then off shoring began, and the whole area died with the factories and the jobs.
Bad Juju; How funny was that? Here it was the twenty first century and people were still mentioning active superstition; how much worse was it going to get?
There was so much he had to do when he got home; it was going to be late and he was going to be tired but stuff had to get done now; because in a week it wouldn’t be possible to do.
Something caught his attention.
Before he realized what it was, he realized what it was.
A Growl.
Deep and angry.
Another big problem with the decaying inner city; besides the violence, apathy, crumbling infrastructure and general hopelessness; was abandoned pets.
In this case dogs.
Many of Inner city residents tend to be felons or immigrants or in some way barred from owning legal firearms; so their weapon of choice for defense tends to be big mean dogs; Rottweiler’s, boxers, or a mutt that can weight upwards of a hundred pounds.
And with the amount of foreclosures and evictions going around a lot of animals fall through the cracks or just end up outright left to fend for themselves.
And Frank had just walked into a pack of them.
A quick look in the dark told him there were between five and eight of them and they had some kind of meal he had interrupted. I could be a cat or raccoon, a doe maybe; but it wasn’t unheard of for Gangbangers to dump their victims in the cemetery.
With the Screwdriver/ Scribe in one hand and the walking stick held up menacingly, he started to back up; the lead dog moved forward with his movements and appeared to be some type of rott mix, maybe Shepard.
As soon as it stepped closer, Frank swung the stick and was rewarded with it connecting with the side of the dogs head; not enough to knock it over but enough that it yelped. Frank reversed direction and leapt forward, swinging the stick with both hands this time; catching another large dog in its ribs, and snapping it off just above his hands.
A third dog came from the left catching the blanket around him in its teeth; they must smell the food Frank thought even as he plunged the scribe into the dogs back. The dog leapt away, tearing the weapon from his grasp.
Frank quickly pulled the knotted blanket over his head and whipping it in a circle threw it as far as he could.
One of the water bottles he had gotten from the supervisor fell out and he scooped it up and took off running in the opposite direction.
As far as he could tell he had been moving North West, Now he was running more or less South West.
He stumbled across one of the winding roads that meandered though the cemetery. This one seemed to curve away to the North East. He immediately turned and looked behind him ready to beat down the first dog he saw.
He panted hard for a few seconds and was relieved to see no dogs in site.
He was getting to old to be running for his life.
He decided to follow the road north east a ways then cut across to Stanton, as it turned out he came back out onto 100Th. He had gotten completely turned around running from the dogs and came out not far from where he had gone in. he turned right. Determined to follow it the right way now and make sure he was aware of his surroundings.
He past the police cruiser again.
This time with its door open and the trunk up.
That was not a good sign if barely over an hour into the blackout and people had already had the cajones to loot a cop car.
He was also going to have to come up with a way to deal with abandoned and rabid animals when he got home; another thing to add to the list.
Chapter four
Home.
Frank expected His legs to be sore; granted he did average about 7 miles a day walking at the factory, a fact he learned when he had gotten a pedometer as a company gift one year.
It had taken almost 4 hours all told to make it home; not just the turnaround at the cemetery but weaving around stalled and abandoned cars, questions from people walking or standing around and more wandering. He had finally taken one of the side streets to get away from all the people, even at this late hour. He seriously doubted that there would ever be a 24 hour a day society again.
The older suburb he lived in was quiet, besides a few stalled cars oddly parked; it might have looked like a normal night.
He wearily walked up to the front porch ready to put his key in the lock and saw that the front door was open and the screen was in the storm door.
He opened the door and walked in. it wasn’t even locked.
His wife launched herself at him, hugging him close.
Then the yelling started. Where was the car? Why was he walking? Why had it taken so long? Why wasn’t the phone working? Would the DVR keep her recorded Shows? Then she noticed the blood on his hand and what was left of the walking stick.
Frank had about all he could take at this point and in no uncertain terms told her to shut up.
He explained to her as calmly as he could about the dogs, the EMP, the Planes, the fires, the looted police car; trying to impress upon her how serious and brutal things had just become. She took it surprisingly well.
“Do you think you can fix the van?”
No.
“Can you fix the station wagon?”
That will have to wait until later.
Food, money, Water, security. Everything she could think of, they hashed out while Frank took a few moments to relax and get his strength back.
Then a quick wash up.
Then he went up stairs and checked on the kids, who were sleeping in the big bed.
While he was up there he gathered the books and notebooks that had all the information he thought he would need for the next couple of days.
“I want to gather up our immediate neighbors today and discuss what we need to accomplish in the next 48 hours if we all want to live” Frank said.
“Ok we can make up a sign with that extra OSB board and some spray paint” she said.
“Ok but first let’s get a few other things done” Frank said.
He went out and checked the two rain water barrels. Ever since the city had jumped on the whole Green bandwagon, forcing everyone on with them; Frank had been pushing the boundaries with them; The Rain water barrels had landed him in court against the HOA.
In what may be his first piece of good luck, pick up for the recyclables wasn’t for another day, so all of the plastic bottles were there and the bin was full. He quickly went through and separated the glass bottles and such from the Soda bottles and useable juice bottles. Since his wife had already washed them out they just had to fill them while there was still water pressure.
It netted them 31 quarts of fresh water in bottles before he took a clear tote and put it in the tub to collect whatever else he could. The water pressure having dropped off that fast; probably due to the fires.
Looking at it all the water filled bottles like that; Frank could hardly believe that a family of four consumed that much soda and fruit juice.
Franks mother in Law lived about 15 minutes drive; which meant about an hour walk now, South in a newer subdivision and knew that the last time they has lost the pumps her water had ceased almost immediately. So he prepared for them to have a lot of sewer problems and be coming to stay with him soon enough.
Between that, food inventory and just generally figuring out what they had, what they needed and what they could live without. There were a few other things he needed to check also but that would have to wait.
Before he knew it the sun was well up and the kids came down all bleary eyed and bed headed. He gave them each a hug, even though he was still in his grubby, sweaty work clothes.
He also explained to them that School was out because of a power failure and would probably be off for quite a while.
The younger one complained about missing her shows, while the older one was just happy not to go to school.
Frank showed them the board on the front porch and told them what he wanted them to do and wrote down on a piece of Printer paper what he wanted them to write. They were more than happy to oblige with paint and markers and crayons while his wife got their breakfast ready. A big Breakfast to use up what they could before it spoiled.
While they did that Frank went down the driveway past his old Station wagon to the garage. His wagon was a 1987 AMC Eagle Limited 4 wheel drive. He had picked it up dirt cheap from an old lady in Rural Pennsylvania with 76k miles on it. Leather, tilt, cruise, all the whistles and bells and everything worked.
He contemplated seeing if it would start but decided against it for now. He had other things to do.
Opening the garage he got out his bicycle, a fifteen speed Murray with the baby seat on the back. The seat came off to reveal a small rack for holding stuff.
He quickly found 2 milk crates and some zip strips and began fashioning a dual front basket array, with the help of some generic muffler strap down to the front tire bolts; he had to open up one of the straps holes to fit over the hub screw and without thinking grabbed his cordless drill.
It worked, he tried the cordless sander and that worked also. That was surprising; he was also going to have to find a way to charge them. He wondered that since his garage was older and still aluminum sided if that had somehow acted as a faraday cage and shielded the electronic contents. He would have to check around and see.
He heard one of the neighbors down the street start his lawnmower; which sounded unusually loud, probably because it was so quiet. He was tempted to go and check but it sounded like the old jerk who ran the Home Owners Association and he just didn’t want to deal with the kind of stress and ass ache that it would get him. The guy still hadn’t gotten over losing the Water barrel fight; and his wife…Man. Threatening action over the types of plants they had planted in the yard. Calling the police on his kids for writing in chalk on the sidewalk.
He had to stop and get his mind to change the subject; he could already feel his blood pressure rising.
He saw a third milk crate back behind some totes of kids clothes and decided that it would greatly expand the utility of the little rack on the back of his bike.
He managed to push, pull and wriggle his way to it and found it was full of 2X4 odd sizes, which gave him several ideas all at once; but those would have to wait until later; he grabbed that and noticed a 5 gallon bucket next to it also filled with 2x4 lumber and picked that up too. He scavenged a second bucket filled with potting soil and set it next to the other one.
After emptying the milk crate and a few zip strips later he had a very useful mode of transportation, not pretty but useful.
The kids were almost done with the sign and Frank told his wife how he wanted it hung. Then he told her he was going to make a quick run down the street to the Hardware store before the meeting and see if they were open, and if they were he was going to try and get as many things as they had talked about earlier before their money was worthless.
They didn’t have a lot of money lying around. Like everyone else they had a debit card and a check book. So a frantic search started to gather all the loose money they had to accomplish this. Even the kids stopped their sign making and brought down their piggy banks and birthday cards.
His wife Brought over his Silver Coin collection; mostly Dimes in books. He opened them briefly, looked at his 1914 D and told her no.
“I think silver will still have value so let’s save those until we absolutely have no recourse but to use them” She agreed and put them back on the book shelf.
Frank had started out with $42 dollars and with all they gathered from purses, piggy’s and cards he had doubled it with a little extra.
But all that change was heavy; he was going to need a back pack to haul it. Besides it gave him more room to haul stuff.
Now wearing comfortable sandals, a pair of Black jeans and a Flowered Hello kitty backpack; He was ready to start. He noticed that the Lawn mower had stopped and really didn’t hear any other noises.
The Hardware store he was heading to was one of those good old fashioned institutions you always saw on TV; A place where you could buy a screw or nut individually rather than by the box. In the late eighties they had finally bought an electronic Cash register to replace the old brass and copper unit they had relied on since the place had opened in the Thirties, but they still kept it on the counter to hold misc change.
Between that and the fact that there were two apartments above the place and he was fairly certain that one of the employees lived in at least one; Frank was confident that it would be open.
He started out in low gear to get a feel for how the bike was going to handle with the modifications. As long as he didn’t make any really sharp turns it seemed to be ok. He passed the HOA man’s house and saw the guy out with a black plastic garbage bag loading the lawn waste into a properly labeled brown garbage can.
The man just gave him the evil eye.
Frank thought of flipping him the bird but it just wasn’t worth it.
He continued toward the main road and saw a man sitting on his front porch with what appeared to be a shotgun partially concealed next to him. Frank nodded to him and he nodded back then popped a beer. Not even noon; might as well drink them while they’re cold.
He hit the main road and saw a lot more people than he had expected walking down both sides of the sidewalk. Most were heading out of the city, but a few; looking like they were dressed for work were heading in.
More than a few eyed franks bike enviously, one even called out offering to buy it.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea Frank thought recalling the looted cop car from the night before and thinking of his wife and children all alone at the house. He kept on realizing that if he didn’t do this now while it was still early and thing were still calm, then it would never happen.
He saw that the convenience store on an opposite corner had a pinkish cardboard sign up Proclaiming to be open and thought if he had money left over he might stop there on the way back.
There were a lot of stalled an abandoned cars sitting in the 4 lane street as he rode north. Most had been coasted or pushed into the curb lane; a few had even been pulled into the numerous small business parking lots that lined this section of the Street. But more than a few had just been left where they died, with hood up and trunks popped, several even had their doors left open; whether by the owners or by looters Frank didn’t know and Frankly didn’t want to contemplate just now.
He did however wonder if the batteries might still be good.
They might come in handy later in the night as a source of light and as a way to recharge his cordless drill batteries.
It was mostly downhill making the trip easier than he had anticipated. He tried to ride every weekend with his daughters so he was still in pretty good form.
He had kept almost exclusively to the street to avoid the walkers on the sidewalks getting out of the city. It helped avoid trouble as he was going contra to most of the foot traffic.
He pulled up to the glass fronted store and was relieved to see the Front double doors propped open, the day was getting appreciably warmer, and not just from his exertions.
He walked in and saw that they did indeed have the old register running and a sign posted specifying cash only.
“Cash only” the older gentleman behind the counter said as Frank passed him.
“Understood” Frank replied. “Canning Jars and lids?”
“Aisle 4 Left side” He said as he rang out another customer.
He went down and saw a decent sized stack and grabbed 2 medium flats and matching lids; taking them up to the counter. Then went back and grabbed two large Quart flats and matching lids, then some pectin and some Wax and a set of jar tongs. That rang up to $66.
He took them out and managed to fit one medium and one large flat in each of the front Milk Crates. Then went back in and grabbed a box of Galvanized Drywall screws. There was some aluminum screen on clearance he grabbed too.
At the checkout he saw some seeds on clearance; grabbed those; several boxes of Ohio blue tip matches and several disposable lighters.
Frank got out his list and asked the Guy about yeast. None.
Rechargeable batteries. No batteries of any kind were left already. Then the man had an idea and told frank to hang on, he left and returned with a flashlight and rechargable 6 volt battery in plastic.
“I’m not saying it’ll work or even if it’s legal but if you open up the battery, inside is a bunch of 1.5 volt double A sized cells hooked up on series and parallel”
Frank considered it but just couldn’t afford it. With the last purchases he was down to less than $25 left.
He put it all in his back pack and made for the door; just in time to see a guy walking away with his bike.
Chapter 5
Confrontation
Frank dropped his backpack on the counter and ran out the door.
The guy was only about fifteen feet away and hadn’t mounted the bike yet.
Frank ran up and grabbed the bike by the center bar, just above the bike pump.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Frank yelled at him and pulled.
“I need this bike” The guy yelled and pulled back.
“Well you can’t have it” Frank yanked on it again.
“Well, you’re not gunna stop me” The other guy yelled back. He was Frank’s size and about 20 pounds heavier.
He used his free hand to shove Frank away and Franks hand came off the bike, pulling the pump with it.
Without even thinking he took the pump and swung it, hitting the other guy in the temple.
He guy stood there stunned for a moment; then Frank swung again, hitting the guy in the arm he was using to hold the bike. The guy gave a strangled curse and dropped the bike, knocking two of the Flats out of their crates. Frank went to swing again.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” The guy yelled and took off running down the street.
Frank grabbed the bike and righted it; he hoped none of the jars were broken.
He picked up the flats and they seemed to be ok. The plastic and cardboard had protected them.
He just got the Jars back into the milk crate when he saw another guy coming toward him.
You ever just see a look on someone face; that look of determination, their stance, their movements and the way they walk? And just know they are out to do someone harm.
Frank saw that, he saw that and he knew this guy was coming right for Frank and his bike.
He also saw the guy pull out a big lock back knife from his pocket.
He was a good six inches taller than Frank, way more muscular and probably had 50 pounds on him. This guy meant to have Franks bike and he looked ready to kill frank to get it.
Frank calmly put the kick stand down.
“Get away from the Bike” The guy growled as he got close.
When the guy was about six feet away Frank lunged with the tire pump. Not in a swing but a straight jab right into the guys throat.
It caught him completely off guard and he went down choking. Frank wasn’t about to let the guy get up or have a second chance at attacking him. He waded in and stomped the guys hand with the knife then kicked the guy in the head; realizing as his foot connected that he wasn’t wearing his steel toed work boots.
He hoped he didn’t break a toe. Then he went to work on the guy, bashing him with the Steel tubed tire pump over and over; the guy tried to shield himself with one arm and Frank viciously batted it away.
Finally he stopped.
He had no idea how long had beat the guy, or even how many times he had hit him; the guy was still conscious and laying in the fetal position.
“Get up!” Frank yelled at him. “Get up you POS!”
Frank was getting ready to go to work on the guy again when his Hello kitty back pack appeared in front of his face.
“I think the guys had enough” The hardware store clerk said calmly as he handed Frank his pack.
Frank was breathing heavy but considered working the guy over again. He stooped down and took the guys knife and put it in his pocket.
Frank took a deep breath. “I ever see you again, anywhere; I’ll kill you where you stand. You understand?”
He was going to kick the guy again to get the point across, but his toes already hurt.
So he just put on his back pack, jumped on his bike and pedaled away.
He was angry.
He was angry at himself like he hadn’t been in a long, long time. He wasn’t the person he used to be anymore; He was supposed to have more control than that.
This Crisis was probably going to lead Frank to a very bad place. He vowed also that he wouldn’t go anywhere unarmed again; the tire pump had saved his ass. An old steel pump he had gotten for a dollar at a garage sale was all that had stood between himself and death.
He realized he was still holding the pump in his hand. The aquamarine paint was covered with blood and it was bent and dented; he doubted it would ever work again.
Still he didn’t let it go.
He had to threaten one other person with it on the way home. They man had tried to walk into the street and grab at Franks handle bars. Frank just lifted the pump to swing it and the man jumped away. Whether from the look on franks face or the blood on the pump he didn’t know and didn’t care. He thought about stopping and beating that man down too but didn’t.
I’m not that person anymore. I’m not that person anymore.
He said it over and over to himself, as a mantra as he pedaled uphill to his street; he also felt like crying, or yelling or.. or what? He was doing this for a reason. He had a wife and two children to take care of and they were depending on him.
Before he knew it, he was on his own street, coasting down toward his house. He could see the sign up in the front yard. The kids had done a fine job on it; the flowers and bee’s were a bit much but it definitely was colorful and caught the eye.
There were people already on the front lawn making small talk with his wife and the other neighbors kid was playing… with chalk(!) on Franks sidewalk.
He saw Jerry the Jerk and his wife looking dower standing off to one side conversing with a few of the snootier neighbors.
He cruised past them, up the driveway and into the garage.
Still clutching the tire pump He saw Jerry and another HOA guy break away from the other and start to head down the driveway; he ignored them; popped the gate into the back yard and walked in the back door. Once inside he set the tire pump on the coffee table; careful to put it on some adverts even though the blood was dry and ran up into his bedroom.
He could just imagine Jerry and the other guy trying to figure out if it would violate the Home owners Codes to enter Frank’s back yard uninvited, and if he did would he be frantically hitting the doorbell too dense to realize that without power it was useless.
Up in his bedroom, he walked to the armoire; stained cherry and almost 7 feet tall, it held all of the wife’s good dresses and shoes. Not that she had many; but she did like to look pretty and keep them nice.
He didn’t give a crap about that.
The Armoire was on rollers and he pulled it away from the wall so he could get behind it. Once he managed to get behind it he pushed it farther for better access.
Behind the armoire was a closet door. It was locked. Frank sighed. I’m not that person anymore.
He unlocked it and opened the door. Without power there was no light, but he didn’t need it. He knew the layout of the closet and where everything was. His hand closed around the items he needed and brought them out into the light of the bedroom.
His Colt Commander lightweight, in its drop leg holster and a matching Marlin Camp 45. Six mags all loaded.
“Hello Gorgeous. Ready to go to work?” He said just barely above a whisper.
Chapter 6
Meeting
He walked back down the stairs picked up the tire pump and walked out the front door. Some of the neighbors waved to him and he waved back. he had left the guns just inside the front door. Jerry the Jerk and His companion, the HOA rules lawyer came back down the driveway Ready to say something.
“you know you can’t put up a sign like that, The HOA strictly forbids…”
Shut up, this is my meeting not yours” Frank yelled, startling everyone.
“Did that get everyone attention? Good because I have some things to share and I only want to say them once”
Jerry the jerk started walking up to his sign. Looking like he was going to tear it down.
“If you destroy or remove my property, which is clearly on my property; I will sue the shit out of you and anyone who helps you. the HOA rules are very clear on my rights as well at the power you have to enforce said rules” Frank said. He knew it was all BS but Jerry was still stuck in the old world and Frank threatening to beat the man down wouldn’t help anything.
It had its desired effect though and his hand waivered inches away from the sign.
“You have to remove that sign” He insisted, and his wife and the rules lawyer both nodded.
“Fine send me a certified letter on HOA letterhead and I will be happy to comply” Frank retorted.
“But that would take days and there’s no power!” His wife said with her nasally way of talking when she felt whatever she was saying was the most important thing in the world.
“Which brings us to why this meeting has been called” Frank said.
“I don’t think this was accidental. I work by the airport and planes dropped out of the sky when the power went out. I think this was a terrorist attack” He said, then was going to tell them about the police car, when Jerry The Jerk started in with his mouth.
“you don’t know anything, the radios out and if it was somebody would have said something” he said.
“Really, think about that statement. When has the power gone so completely out that even a radio stations backup generators didn’t work?”
Jerry was about to open his mouth but Frank continued.
“Look it’s already getting worse out there”
He picked up the tire pump.
“This thing saved my life today” he held it up dried blood and all.
His daughter called out
“Is that blood?” she said.
“You assaulted a person?” Jerry yelled “I’m calling the police!”
“Go ahead!”Frank yelled back and took his phone out.
“Here use my phone” Frank said and almost threw it at the man instead of too him.
“The phones don’t work” Jerry’s wife said.
“Then drive there and report it” Frank retorted, knowing the answer to that request.
“My X90 won’t start” The Rules Lawyer said.
“You got the new Mercedes?” Jerry’s wife asked looking at the man like she’d jump him right there.
“Can anyone recall a time when all of their cars stopped working?” Frank interrupted their talk.
“I believe there was a electromagnetic pulse weapon used last night that knocked out all power and fried the cars computers” Frank said.
“When will the power come back on?” an older woman whose name Frank didn’t know asked.
“I’m guessing just the other side of never” Frank replied.
Jerry the Jerk spoke up.
“Well I don’t believe you, you don’t know anything; you’re just a factory drone who managed to buy early and cheap before this neighborhood really took off. I’ll wait for an official announcement. Good day, and take that sign down!” he yelled and turned on his heel intent on leaving, and tearing up Franks grass while doing it.
“You don’t have to believe and frankly I don’t care if you do, but I’m trying to keep people alive here and if this stuff doesn’t get done now then it’s never going to get done!”
Frank pulled the Lock back knife out of his pocket.
“A man already attacked me today with this!” He said and threw it into the sign for effect “And this is just the first twelve hours, how long before the stores are emptied? How long before people start coming here looking for free stuff? I am letting you all know right now that from this moment on I will be armed, if you don’t like it go call a cop!”
“I plan too!” Jerry yelled back and walked back to his house.
Most of the others drifted away at this point. Leaving about three families and a couple of single people left.
The bendarski’s from across the street stayed and he looked at her and her three boys. They were all build like linebackers and played high school football.
“So what did you want everyone to do” she asked.
“Cook up everything you can on the grill before it spoils, Pickle or can what you can. Fill all the bottles you can with water, start making a space for a garden; you boys may be the most valuable asset in the neighborhood. Their young and strong and can do a lot that would probably kill us older guys”
“Is it true none of the cars are working?” The youngest one, who was about fifteen and already outweighed Frank.
“Some of the older ones might, I don’t know. We heard Jerry the Jerks lawnmower working so anything’s possible” Frank said then told them about the cop car he saw looted.
“Cool that means if we head to the skate park with our BMX, the retards thaere can’t call for help!” the older one said to the other.
“Jerry the Jerk. I like that” the mom said.
“Your husband works at the airport, did he make it home?” Franks wife asked.
“No, but his shift wasn’t supposed to end until ten this morning. And with the cars not running” she let the rest of the sentence drop.
“What are you going to do with the knife?” The second oldest asked.
“Why?” Frank asked.
“I’ll give you eight Dollars for it” he replied.
Frank wasn’t sure letting these reprobated have a weapon was a good idea, but he could use the money.
“Make it ten and it’s yours” He replied.
In the end both older boys had to pool their money and he let them take it. The mom didn’t say anything and they all went back across the street to their home.
Frank just shook his head.
That went badly.
