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Post by papaof2 on Feb 7, 2018 17:28:44 GMT -6
If your got says there's a problem - listen to it.
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Post by accountant on Feb 9, 2018 12:37:54 GMT -6
This chapter is a little short but I hope you enjoy it. And WOOOHOOOO...We made it to Page 3!!!! Chapter 17 As the convoy moved down Castlemore Road, the only sounds that could be heard were the rattling of the wheels of the shopping carts on the sidewalk. John Davidson, who was part of the lead group, raised his fist to signal a stop. “You guys with the carts and strollers are blowing our OPSEC with that loud racket. Every gang member and his momma within 10 klicks can hear you guys. We can’t have that. Put them into the trailers sideways and help push. We’ll have to find a solution for the way back, but for now, let’s try to keep things to a dull roar.”, he said. The Treeline and Humberview groups loaded their carts, wagons, and strollers into the available trailers sheepishly and got behind to push. Once John Davidson saw that they were secure, he signaled for the convoy to start moving again. Paul studied the leader. He was about 5’11” tall, about 180 pounds with a square build and a square haircut to match. The holstered Glock was police standard issue. Paul calculated that John Davidson was probably a cop or an armored truck driver with visions of glory. Either way, it didn’t matter, he was the leader of the Springdale group and they were leading them to food. If he was police, Paul didn’t care that he wasn’t at the mall with the other police officers. When push comes to shove, a man has to think about his family first. Paul wasn’t surprised when they turned down Humberwest Parkway. It was a fairly new road with wide sidewalks, light grass and green forests on one side and light industrial complexes on the other. It made sense to take this route as there was less chances for ambush from the forests or the industrial side. At this point, there wasn’t anything to be ambushed for. Hopefully the spotters at the front would keep their eyes open for possible attack positions on the way back. Slowly, they made their way down to Queen Street, another semi-major throughway, and kept on going. By the time they reached Mcvean Drive, Paul could see that several of the people were huffing and puffing. “Hey John”, Paul called out, “I think some of us need a break. Why don’t we take ten minutes here at the Clairville Conservation area?” “What? You guys need a break already? What the hell?”, John replied, but after studying the group, he add, “Fine. Ten minutes and then we move on.” After resting for ten minutes, the convoy was again on the move. Slowly, continued up their way down Queen Street, up Highway 50, and east onto Zenway Boulevard. Paul knew they were close and by the time they turned onto Huntington Road, he could see that most were out of breath but didn’t want to say anything. Soon, they could see the large distribution center looming in the distance and the group quickened their pace. Paul wondered why the lead spotters weren’t being as careful as they had been during the walk down Queen Street. Maybe they were just excited about the food as he was. Finally, they were at the front door of the distribution center and John Davidson called for a halt. Suddenly, the door opened and four men carrying weapons came out. “Hi John. It’s about time you got here.”, said the lead man, smiling.
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Post by pbbrown0 on Feb 10, 2018 3:07:00 GMT -6
I've got a baaaaad feeling about this. I hope I'm wrong, but I think papaof2 said it right. If your gut tells you something, listen to it.
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Post by accountant on Feb 13, 2018 8:18:25 GMT -6
Chapter 18
John Davidson turned around and addressed the convoy in a loud, booming voice and a smile.
“Folks, welcome to the Sobey’s distribution center. It is a 400,000 square foot, state of the art distribution facility for dry goods built in 2009 for $150 million that was used to supply dry goods to Ontario and the western regions. It is now under the control of the Springdale group. Now, we don’t want to seem un-neighborly so we have decided to let you, as our friends, go in and load up everything that you need, this one time. Jerry here will escort you all to the loading docks where you can go in and grab whatever you want and can fill into your carts, wagons, and trailers. You have an hour to fill up your load at which point everything will be locked down tight.”
“You can’t do this, John.”, said Martin, “This was our idea and it was to be shared by the community as a whole. This just isn’t right.”
The four men at door slowly lowered their weapons towards the crowd and the rest of the Springdale group also readied their firearms.
“Martin, someone had to take control of this food before the gangs got here and since we have the most weapons, it just makes sense for us to watch over it. You are all good folks and we don’t want to make any trouble, but we will do what we have to. I hope I make myself clear. You are running out of time. If you want food, you better hurry it along otherwise you won’t get any.”
The sight of the firearms leveled at them and the determination of John Davidson’s voice was too much for some of the group and slowly they started to turn the trailers towards where Jerry was leading them.
“That guy is a real scumbag.”, muttered Chuck.
“Yep”, said Paul, “but at least they are letting us take some food. That’s what we came for, after all.”
The trailers reached the loading docks at the back of the facility and stopped at an open bay door. Paul could see that there were more armed people inside.
“I hope everyone has their shopping lists ready because we don’t have time for everyone to browse. We’ll start with the Professor’s Lake group. Take a couple of the shopping carts. It’ll help you get done faster.”, said Jerry.
Martin and the group took the shopping carts which the Humberview group had brought and went into the warehouse escorted by two armed men.
They soon returned with the carts piled high with flour, oil, salt, pasta, dry beans, cans of sauces and other products.
After unloading the food into their trailer, the Professor’s Lake group where ready to head back in to get more items from the list.
“Okay. That’s enough for you.”, said Jerry.
“But this isn’t even half of what is on our list.”, exclaimed Martin.
“I said that’s enough. That’s all you are getting.”, said Jerry in a steely tone, “Next, the Crocker group. Let’s get a move on. We don’t have all day.”
Paul, Chuck, Bill, and Brad moved their trailer forward. They jumped up into the warehouse.
“Flour, grains, oil, and pasta to the left, canned goods, dry beans, and other items to the right. Let’s go.”, said one off the armed men.
“Chuck, you and Brad go left and fill the crap out of those two carts. Bill and I will go right.”, said Paul.
The warehouse was huge with seventy foot ceilings and packed to the limit. Unfortunately, with the limited amount of time that they had, Paul and Bill could only fill their cart from the skids on the ground level. The cart was filled with bags of kidney beans, lentils, black eyed peas, peanut butter, jelly, ground coffee, tea, sugar, salt, spices, and hot chocolate mix. The escorts were watching their every move.
As they came back to the loading dock, they saw that Chuck and Brad were also on their way back with their carts full.
“That’s good.”, said Jerry, with a broad smile and a sneer. “See how easy things can be when we all follow the rules. Now load up your shit and let the next group in. Let’s get the group with the cute little baby strollers and wagons to go next. It shouldn’t take long for them at all. I’m not sure if there’s any diapers or formula in there but you can always check.”
The trailer was quickly loaded with all they were able to get but it wasn’t even half full.
The Humberview group soon returned with their strollers and wagons full.
“How about we let John and our group go next. They can borrow the shopping carts, can’t they? Sure they can.”, sneered Jerry.
A team from the Springdale group came forward and took the shopping carts into the warehouse. Paul noticed that John didn’t go with them.
The Springdale group made three trips into the warehouse and their trailer was soon full.
“Now you can take your shopping carts and go shopping for yourselves.”, said Jerry to a chorus of snickers.
Soon the Treeline group had their carts full and were back to the loading docks. Once the carts were lowered down, everyone started to turn the trailers, strollers, carts, and wagons to leave.
“Just a minute.”, started Jerry, “We said you could take the food out of the warehouse. We never said you could leave with it without paying.”
“Paying? What do you mean paying? This food is for the community as a whole. Besides, we have nothing to pay you with. You know that.”, said Martin.
“Martin, you are starting to get on my nerves with your belly aching. I understand that you didn’t come here with any form of payment so for this time and this one time only, as a gesture of generosity on our part, you will only have to give us anything of value that you came here with.”, said John.
“We don’t have anything except our weapons.”, replied Martin.
“Fine, we will take those as a payment.”, said John, his face and voice emotionless.
“How are we going to defend ourselves if we don’t have any weapons? This is crazy.”, said one of the men from Treeline.
“Yes, you do have a point there.”, said John, “I want you to have this food. I want your groups to have protection an survive whatever this is that we are going through. I really do, but I have to think of our group as well, and we are probably a lot bigger than your groups. What would the rest of my group say when I tell them that I gave all this food away? Food that could make the difference between life and death for our group. I tell you what. You take all this food. Take it all to your families. Leave your weapons here with us and as an act of neighborly friendship, the Springdale group will provide protection for every one of your groups. I think that is a fair proposal. If you don’t like it, you can always leave the food here and head on back empty handed.”
Martin knew he had been tricked and beat and he laid down his rifle in front of John Davidson, solemnly. Soon everyone else laid down whatever they had as well, including their knives.
The convoy moved away from the distribution center and started to make its way back from where it came.
Paul was angry.
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Post by solo on Feb 13, 2018 8:40:43 GMT -6
Not a good position to be in. By giving up their weapons for a little finite supply of food, they have severely limited their ability to get more food by hunting and have decimated their ability to protect themselves.... And they still have to get home, medium to heavy laden with no visible means of protecting them selves..... You got me drawn in!
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Post by accountant on Feb 13, 2018 11:06:43 GMT -6
Solo, when I started this story, I wanted it to be about regular people (doctors, plumbers, factory workers, shop owners, office clerks, and retail salespeople.). We have been taught from an early age to follow the rules of the authoritarian figures, pay our taxes, and don't start confrontations.
The vast majority of regular people live for today and pray for tomorrow. Too many are buying things on credit cards and just making the minimum payment. There's no preparations for what might happen. For a lot of people, it's hard enough to ensure all the bills are paid this month.
So when someone says "We will give you food today and protection from outsiders from now on", these regular people would automatically fall back to thinking that they have no choice and will follow these leaders blindly. Unfortunately, they don't realize that they are going to become slaves and will need to follow all the rules of their new masters for a few loaves of bread. Don't get me wrong, most will not like it and some will resist, but having lost their weapons, the resistance will be small and crushed quickly. Again, it's all about surviving today. Tomorrow will be a new day with new possibilities.
Our society overall has traded our spirit of independence for the comforts of the lazy-boy recliner with the built in drink holder, 24 hour streaming movies, Twitter and Facebook updates, Superbowl halftime shows, SUVs with internet access, and McDonalds delivered to your door, all brought to us thanks to the new god, the latest smartphone with all the latest apps. WALL-E was not just a kid's movie, it was a warning.
Or maybe I am just being overly cynical. I'm sure there is some medicine the doctor can prescribe to make me feel much, much better. Life is not all puppies and daisies, but it can be with the right ingredients in your system.
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Post by crice118 on Feb 13, 2018 11:54:35 GMT -6
there are "regular" people and there are people who "get" it more and more people are changing from "regular" to "getting" it, we're still in a minority but we are growing fruit trees here some heirlooms we like to replace what is too expensive at the store, yes we are in America but some of the same pioneer spirit is alive in Canada I'm sure I can see where you are writing from the urban perspective and what they might have to go thru and appreciate your story, most stories are from out in the rural areas but we all visit cities and towns and this gives a look at what urbanites might have to go thru and what their mindset may be and may become waiting for the next chapter good job, please keep it up and thanks
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Post by papaof2 on Feb 13, 2018 14:40:46 GMT -6
There's something positive about those who think "You can have my gun when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers." At least they keep the option of protecting themselves and those they care about.
Heinlein may have been the first to put "TANSTAAFL" (There Ain't No Such Thing As A Free Lunch) in print ("The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress" 1968) but the phrase - and certainly the concept - has been around much longer. Always ask what the cost will be before you agree to the deal. In this case, that could be the difference between life and death before they get home and certainly in coming days.
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Post by pbbrown0 on Feb 13, 2018 23:52:18 GMT -6
Excellent chapter, Accountant.
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Post by solo on Feb 14, 2018 10:13:27 GMT -6
Solo, when I started this story, I wanted it to be about regular people (doctors, plumbers, factory workers, shop owners, office clerks, and retail salespeople.). We have been taught from an early age to follow the rules of the authoritarian figures, pay our taxes, and don't start confrontations. The vast majority of regular people live for today and pray for tomorrow. Too many are buying things on credit cards and just making the minimum payment. There's no preparations for what might happen. For a lot of people, it's hard enough to ensure all the bills are paid this month. So when someone says "We will give you food today and protection from outsiders from now on", these regular people would automatically fall back to thinking that they have no choice and will follow these leaders blindly. Unfortunately, they don't realize that they are going to become slaves and will need to follow all the rules of their new masters for a few loaves of bread. Don't get me wrong, most will not like it and some will resist, but having lost their weapons, the resistance will be small and crushed quickly. Again, it's all about surviving today. Tomorrow will be a new day with new possibilities. Our society overall has traded our spirit of independence for the comforts of the lazy-boy recliner with the built in drink holder, 24 hour streaming movies, Twitter and Facebook updates, Superbowl halftime shows, SUVs with internet access, and McDonalds delivered to your door, all brought to us thanks to the new god, the latest smartphone with all the latest apps. WALL-E was not just a kid's movie, it was a warning. Or maybe I am just being overly cynical. I'm sure there is some medicine the doctor can prescribe to make me feel much, much better. Life is not all puppies and daisies, but it can be with the right ingredients in your system. There is some solid insight here! Especially with how we have traded our future for a today...
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Post by arkansascob on Feb 14, 2018 10:36:33 GMT -6
Im really enjoying this story so far. I like your writing style.
COB
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Post by accountant on Feb 14, 2018 14:26:33 GMT -6
Thank you everyone for your words of encouragement. I sincerely appreciate your support.
Now, here's the next short chapter.
Chapter 19
It was late in the afternoon. The convoy had made it back to the McDonalds uneventfully and John Davidson addressed the group.
“Well, this is the end of the line for us. Please take the food back to your groups on your own from here. We’ll be visiting with each group over the next couple of days to make sure that everyone has the protection they need. Be safe.”, he said.
Without another word from anyone, the groups went their separate ways. Inside, Paul was still seething.
Chuck, Paul, and Bill pushed the trailer up Airport Road with Brad steering from the front.
Finally, they reached the small strip mall that lead into their subdivision. Paul’s anger had built up into a rage by this point.
Paul knew that with the Springdale group now providing security, they would never be free again. They would have to do everything that the Springdale group dictated. They were slaves now and for what? A few hundred pounds of food? Why did he give in to this deal? Why didn’t they just turn around and walk away. There would have been other ways to get food. Why didn’t he stand up to them? Why was everything so damn hard? Why did he let himself be taken so easily? How was he going to face Shawna once she found out that he had not only sold himself but also her?
He saw the small takeout pizza shop, the pharmacy, the convenience store and the nail salon just standing there looking as if nothing had happened, waiting for customers to arrive.
With all the strength he could muster complemented by his rage, Paul picked up a can of crushed pineapples from the trailer and hurled it at the plate glass window of the convenience store.
The window shattered from the impact.
“What the hell?”, exclaimed Chuck.
“Take it all.”, replied Paul, “if we don’t take it, Springdale or the gangs will and I’ll be damned if I let them have it.”
Quickly, the four men emptied the convenience store of everything that wasn’t locked down. They took candy, candy bars, power bars, gum, water, cases of pop, soap, detergent, cartons of cigarettes and everything else.
They did the same thing with the pharmacy. The prescription medication was locked up, but the men took all the pain medication, antibiotic cream, cough and cold medicine, tampons and pads, all the medical supplies, as well as all the vitamins.
Soon, the trailer was filled and the men started down the main boulevard.
As they were getting closer to their street, they saw a man standing in their way. He looked haggard and his clothes were loose-fitting.
Cautiously, the men with the trailer of food approached him.
“Please, you have to help us.”, he said, “we haven’t eaten in three days and we ran out of water yesterday. We’ll die if you don’t help us. Please, for the love of God, please help us.”
Tears were rolling down his face as he begged.
The sight of the man broke Paul’s heart and he could see that it was having the same effect on the other three men.
“How many of you are there?”, he asked, softly.
“There’s me, my wife Sarah, and our two boys. Eddie’s six and Daniel’s nine.”, said the man, wiping his face.
“What’s your name, buddy?”, asked Chuck.
“My name is Norm. Norm Wilson. We live here at number 58.”, replied the man.
Paul reached into the trailer and pulled out a case of water, a box of granola bars, a tin of hot chocolate powder, a bag of dried milk powder, some cans of mini ravioli, a box of Oreos, and a bottle of children’s vitamins to give to the man.
“Norm, take this and make sure everyone takes one vitamin every day.”, he said.
“Thank you, sir. You don’t know how much this means to me. God bless you. God bless every one of you.”, said the man as he carried the precious resources into his home.
“Yeah, God bless me.”, thought Paul to himself as the foursome continued on, “I don’t think I could stand any more of His blessings right now.”
“You did a good thing.”, whispered Chuck as they turned down Crocker Drive.
“Let’s just get this load home.”, said Paul
As they reached the barricade at the entrance to their cul-de-sac, Paul could see a lone figure running towards them at a full sprint.
In the blink of an eye, Carol had wrapped herself around Brad and was sobbing in his arms.
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Post by accountant on Feb 15, 2018 14:15:00 GMT -6
We are getting close to the beginning chapter.
Please let me know your thoughts.
Thanks.
Chapter 20
It rained for two days straight after their return from the distribution center.
During the night after the rain, Paul was awaken from sleep by a loud boom, followed by another. Was that thunder? It couldn’t be thunder, the rain had stopped.
He heard a scream, and another boom. The screaming stopped.
Rushing to look out the front of his house, he saw that the far end of the neighborhood including houses on the main boulevard were on fire. He also saw a large group of armed men, some with torches, walking down Crocker Drive, their weapons glistening in the firelight.
As he raced toward the back door, grabbing his jacket along the way, and out into the backyard, Paul’s mind instantly did the calculations based on the image his brain had captured.
Roughfully, fifteen men walking abreast, eight rows deep, none of them looking like they belonged in the suburbs. It didn’t take a genius to understand what had happened. The gangs had arrived.
For an instance, Paul hesitated and looked down at Angie’s resting spot. He didn’t want to leave her with those monsters walking down the road. The next, his mind was focused again. Angie was gone and there was nothing he could do for her or they could do to her.
“Run! Get up! Run! The gangs are here! Run!”, Paul screamed at the top of his lungs, hoping the others had heard him.
He quickly jumped the chain link fence and was in the ravine. As he moved his way down, he could hear the hooting and hollering of the gang as they ran down the street. Did he give the others enough time to get away or did he just signal their deaths?
Paul sensed some movement in the ravine to his right, but in the darkness, he couldn’t tell if it was a gang member or one his own group.
He silently watched as the group made its way past the barricade and towards Mrs. Brady’s house. Paul saw the muzzle fire, heard the gunshots, and saw the small army smash through her front door. Soon, he could see the fire starting in her living room as the curtains went up in flames. He saw a group of men drag Mrs. Brady out into the middle of the street. The crowd closed in around her and blocked his view. They couldn’t block the awful sounds he was hearing. Mrs. Brady was screaming, then there was a slap, and then more screaming. All the while, the hooting and hollering continued. After what seemed like an eternity, there was the sudden roar of gunfire and a loud crescendo of whooping. There was no sound from Mrs. Brady after that.
Suddenly one of the gang members made eye contact with Paul and started to lower his weapon.
Paul turned right, away from the gang, and ran deeper into the ravine as fast as he could. He didn’t stop when he raced past Leroy. He didn’t stop when he heard the sound of gunfire behind him. He didn’t stop when he felt something splatter on the back of his jacket.
Paul ran deeper into the ravine, he ran down one side and across the stream. Paul pushed as far into the dense growth as he could until he couldn’t go any further. A large maple tree had fallen over and was being held in place by a row of pine trees. Paul stopped and hid among the roots of the fallen tree praying that the gang wouldn’t see him in his small hiding place.
All through the night, Paul watched as his cul-de-sac went up in flames. He heard the sounds of gunfire and as the sounds of screaming stopped one by one. All the while, the gangs partied in his community.
For three days and three nights, Paul stayed at his hideaway while the gang rampaged through his neighborhood. Occasionally, he could see gang members scouting around in the ravine during the day. Most times, they would go back to the cul-de-sac without doing anything. Sometimes, there would be screams and gunfire as someone was found.
By the late afternoon of the third day, Paul noticed that everything had become quiet. Had the gang moved on? Did they leave a remnant behind? Had anyone else from his group survived like he had? Should he take a chance and go back? Was there anything to go back to? Was he the cause of Leroy’s death? Did he deserve to be alive while Mrs. Brady, Leroy, and who knew how many others were dead? Did Shawna get caught by a gang? Was she still alive?
When Paul woke up, he didn’t know how or when he had fallen asleep. All he knew was that his eyes had crusted shut and he could feel the tear tracks that had run down his face. It was almost daybreak when he stood to stretch out his sore muscles.
In those first few rays of sunlight, Paul made a decision. He was not going to die out here in the wild cowering in fear like a hunted animal. If he was going to die, he would do it on his terms.
Slowly and silently, he walked out from behind the fallen tree. He made his way back to the stream and at an unseen bend, he knelt down and washed his face with the cold water. Crossing the stream, he headed back towards the cul-de-sac.
He could make out the tops of the houses now. Some had been completely destroy while others had slight damage to them. He could still see some wisps of smoke coming up from the smouldering ashes. He knew that there was no one left, not the gang, nor his group members.
Instead of heading directly into the group of homes, Paul headed to another part of the ravine.
This was a spot he has specifically selected weeks ago when he had been caching items in the ravine. This was a very special spot holding a very special cache of items. When he had buried it, he had hoped that he would never have to dig it up. When he had made his plans weeks ago, he had also planned for a final contingency if he was ever left totally alone and without hope.
Paul reached the spot and pushed the specially placed debris away from the dirt. Grabbing a nearby stick, he dug through the turned soil until he hit the lid of the large three gallon plastic container. Digging around it with the stick and his hands, Paul loosened the container enough to be able to pull it out.
Paul sat down next to the frosted white container with the pink lid and watched the sun rise over the horizon with a sense of calm and peacefulness.
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Post by sniper69 on Feb 15, 2018 16:02:15 GMT -6
This is a great story, and I hope it doesn't end to soon. Thank you for sharing it with us.
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Post by patriciakbarr on Feb 15, 2018 23:11:21 GMT -6
Thank you for the story. I think you’ve done a good job making these people into characters, not stereotypes. I did think that more dialogue instead of monologue would help in spots (when Paul was explaining what would happen with gangs for example). Just a thought but it’s a gripping story and so much more interesting to me than when it’s totally prepped people!
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Post by accountant on Feb 20, 2018 14:30:09 GMT -6
Chapter 21
Paul stood up from where he was sitting and lifted up the plastic container. As he walked up the ravine back to his cul-de-sac, Paul felt almost happy. For the first time in a long time he finally felt like he knew what future was going to hold, albeit a very short future. When he reached the chain link fence behind his house, Paul was surprised to see that it was still standing and, unlike some of the other homes, did not seem to have sustained too much fire damage.
Placing the container on the other side of the fence, Paul hopped over into his backyard. The doors of his utility shed were open and there were tools scattered throughout the backyard. He walked up to Angie’s grave and saw that the pile of earth had been pushed around as if someone had started to sift through it but soon gave up. The glass of Angie’s framed degree had been smashed and the frame tossed aside. Paul pushed the earth back over Angie’s grave and re-placed the degree into the earth.
“I’ll be with you soon, baby girl.”, he said softly to the grave.
Grabbing the plastic container once again, Paul walked up the stairs to the top of the deck. The barbeque had been pushed over, there was glass everywhere, and there were a couple of breakfast table chairs lying on the deck covered with glass. It looked like someone had thrown the chairs out the large window.
Paul walked into his house through the smashed glass patio door and saw that the home had been ransacked. In the family room, the big screen TV had been smashed and pulled off the wall. The two large glass cabinets which had stood on either side of the fireplace had been pulled down and smashed.
Idlely, Paul picked up the snow globe of New York City and shook it. It began to snow against the skyline of New York and the large “NYC” letters in the front of the snow globe.
“Was New York City still there and intact?”, Paul thought to himself.
Dropping the snow globe, Paul said, “Who cares.”, and chuckled to himself.
Paul turned and looked at his kitchen. Paul and Ana had re-modelled it years ago. When they had purchased the property from the builder, they had requested a basic kitchen. Then, a few years later, they had changed everything. They had installed a high end backsplash, dark expresso cherrywood cabinets, granite countertops, a large undermount double sink, and top of the line appliances including a gas stovetop with downdraft fan on the island.
Now the cabinet doors had all been pulled off their hinges or kicked in, the dishwasher door had been stomped on, the built in oven door had been ripped off and the refrigerator doors hung open. Surprisingly, the granite countertops barely had any scratches on them.
The dining room and formal living room was in an equal state of disarray. The dining room table had been pushed on its side. Paul could see shards of their china sets everywhere. Someone had tried to start a fire in the formal living room but for some reason only the white loveseat had burned. The rest still looked intact.
When he walked into the office, Paul smiled. The large desk still sat stoically with only slight visible damage. There were surface burns where they had tried to set it on fire and it looked like someone had tried to shoot it but the bullets just ricocheted off it. The leather chair didn’t fair as well. Someone had started a fire on its seat with paper and the back half of the chair had burned and melted.
Paul pushed the burned chair out to the living room and brought one of the dining room chairs that still had all four legs and placed it behind the desk. He then took the large plastic container and placed it on the desk. Carefully, he opened the lid and looked inside.
This was it. This was the end.
It had been four weeks since it happened and in those short four weeks, the world he had known had completely evaporated. Ana was gone, Angie was gone. Shawna had not made it back and he hoped she was also gone. The alternative was too horrible to even think about. The home that he and Ana had so carefully built and filled with love had been attacked and destroyed. The neighbourhood where they had planned to spent the rest of their lives was now a smouldering heap. In four weeks, their civilized, orderly, connected world had descended into a place where the strong preyed on the weak, gangs roamed, killing and looting, and decent men hid in the dark like scared animals.
Even he himself had changed. Before it had all happened, Paul had always been courteous and polite. He would speak up when someone was being bullied and tried to help the bully understand why the things they were doing wasn’t right. Now, he had been reduced to cowering in the dark and watching while an elderly lady, a neighbour and friend, someone who used to bring him fresh zucchini and tomatoes, was abused and murdered in the middle of his street.
Paul pulled out the bottle of Glenfinnich 18 year old single malt and put it on the desk. The then pulled out the crystal tumbler and put it next to the scotch. There was the bottle of pills, which also went on the desk. Next came the twenty foot long extension cord that he had always used for the outdoor Christmas lights. Then the S&W 357 magnum, with its last five rounds, was placed on the desk.
Paul let out a slight laugh when he looked at the bottom of the container. It held a plastic bottle of water, a pocket knife, a granola bar, a small bag of lentils, and a small bag of rice. He could not remember why he had placed these items in his “final” cache. It wasn’t like he would need these things where he was going and if he was going to have a last meal, it definitely wasn’t going to be lentils and rice.
“Time to get ready.”, he said as he moved the container to the corner of the office and headed to his finished basement. As he expected, all the items from his storage room and tools closet was scattered about.
“Well, at least I didn’t have to go hunting for this.”, Paul thought to himself as he picked up the aluminium ladder at the bottom of the stairs and headed back to the office.
Paul opened the ladder and set it up under the light fixture that hung from the ceiling. He then took the extension cord and tied one end into a noose. He put the noose around his neck checked its strength. Satisfied, he took it off and tied the other end of the cord to the light fixture making sure to calculate the distance he would fall so that his feet couldn’t touch the top of the desk or anything else.
As he came down from the ladder, he felt his belly rumble and he realized that he hadn’t eaten in four days.
“Maybe I will have a last meal, after all.”, Paul thought to himself.
He grabbed the bottle of water and the granola bar and headed back to his deck. Righting the chair that was lying there, Paul sat down, put his feet up on the overturned barbeque, and took the wrapping off the granola bar.
He sat there and quietly ate the bar and drank the water, letting the sun warm him.
Was this all there was? Was this terrible life full of struggles and torment the only existence he would ever know? Once he was dead, was that it? Would his atoms simply break apart over time and return to the earth? Or was there a heaven with a caring, loving God waiting for him? If there was, why did that loving, caring God allow him to suffer so terribly. Was there a purgatory that he would have to pass through first? It certainly couldn’t be worse than what he had gone through in the last four weeks. Or was he one of the wicked who hadn’t been “saved” and destined to spend eternity in a torturous hell? Again, it couldn’t be worse than what he had just gone through. Was he going to be re-born and have to suffer through another miserable life? God, he hoped not.
“There’s only one way to find out.”, thought Paul as he walked back into the house.
****
We are now back to the beginning of the story.
Rest assured, the story will not end so bleakly. I still have a few surprises and adventures for Paul to go through. He's not getting out that easily.
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Post by accountant on Feb 20, 2018 16:11:40 GMT -6
Thank you for the story. I think you’ve done a good job making these people into characters, not stereotypes. I did think that more dialogue instead of monologue would help in spots (when Paul was explaining what would happen with gangs for example). Just a thought but it’s a gripping story and so much more interesting to me than when it’s totally prepped people! Hi Patricia, Thanks for reading my story and I do appreciate your feedback. I do understand that more dialogue would be better in the grand scheme of things. Unfortunately, Paul had lost the people that he was closest to and, like most people in the suburbs, doesn't have close relationships with his neighbours. There is not a lot of social interaction between the neighbours. As mentioned in one of the previous chapters, Paul is also bit of a lone wolf and gets lost in his thoughts sometimes. He is struggling to get through the situation the best that he can. Like most people, he is not a prepper and makes mistakes along the way (he didn't secure the house, doesn't have stored food, water, and supplies, doesn't have a BOB, a secure off-site location, and certainly doesn't have any weapons). But up to this point, he has survived, living on the hope that Shawna would come back. Now that he has lost that hope, and is ready to take his own life, the future chapters could get interesting. As a writer, I want the audience to not only understand what is happening in the story, but also what is happening inside Paul's head. I hope you continue to follow Paul's story and continue to provide feedback along the way. Thanks again.
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Post by accountant on Feb 21, 2018 15:50:43 GMT -6
This next chapter was a little more fun to write. Please let me know if you like it.
Chapter 22
Paul’s head was swimming as he rose from the chair. The scotch and pills were having the desired effect. Slowly, he walked around the desk and grabbed a hold of the ladder with both hands.
Carefully, he took each step up the ladder until his head had reached the point where he could easily put his head through the noose.
Was that a scream he heard or was his mind just playing tricks on him? It didn’t matter, he only had one last thing to do and the nightmare would be over.
He put the noose around his neck and tightened it. He almost fell off the ladder as he did and he chuckled to himself. He saw the irony in the fact that he might slip and fall off a ladder with a noose around his neck while trying to hang himself.
With one last gasp of breath and a swing of his body, Paul kicked the ladder out of the way and hung there. He closed his eyes and waited.
The next thing he knew, he came crashing down onto the office floor and the light fixture smashed over his head.
“Aww hell.”, he thought to himself as he lay there.
He heard the screams again but this time they were closer. Paul could now tell that it was a woman’s scream followed by the laughter of two different men.
Why couldn’t they just let him be? Why couldn’t they just let him die in peace? He didn’t want to die with the last sound he heard being that of a woman screaming.
“Aww hell.”, he said softly to himself as he tried to stand.
Paul grabbed the handgun on the desk and wobbled towards the front door, dragging the lighting fixture behind him.
Opening the smashed in door, he could barely make out a blob on Chuck’s front lawn trying to fend off two other blobs.
‘Hey!”, he yelled at the two blobs on top of the other blob, “Leave her alone!”
Paul nearly fell on his face as he tried to navigate the porch.
“I said, leave her alone!”, he slurred again.
The two men didn’t acknowledge his presence at all.
Paul raised his gun and fired a shot. It hit Chuck’s second floor gutters.
One of the men got up from what he has doing as Paul staggered towards them, dragging the light fixture behind him.
“Well, what do we have here?”, he said with a chuckle.
“You leave her alone. I don’t want any trouble.”, said Paul, trying to stand his ground.
“What are you going to do? You going to shoot me? Go on, shoot me, punk!”, sneered the man.
Paul fired another shot. Again, he missed what he has aiming for.
The man let out a hearty laugh.
Paul fired again. The bullet left the gun and found its way directly through the man’s eye and lodged itself into his brain. He fell backwards and landed next to the woman.
Seeing his dead compatriot, the other man rose and faced Paul.
“You’re going to pay for that, asshole!”, he said as he walked towards Paul.
Paul fired the weapon again. This time it hit the man in the shoulder and caused him to take a few steps backwards.
“I said that I don’t want any trouble”, said Paul to the man. “Oh, you’ve got trouble now, buddy. You’ve got a whole mess of trouble.”, said the man as he closed the distance between himself and Paul.
As the man reached for him, Paul fired the last round in the handgun. The bullet ripped through the man’s chest and he dropped dead at Paul’s feet.
Paul looked down and saw the look of pain and shock on the dead man’s face. He fell down onto his hands and knees and immediately threw up.
Paul looked at the puddle of puke in front of him and saw the little blue pills floating in the liquid.
“Aww hell”, he thought to himself just before he passed out.
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Post by papaof2 on Feb 21, 2018 17:31:54 GMT -6
Some people just won't leave you alone when you're busy with something personal ;-)
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Post by pbbrown0 on Feb 22, 2018 3:09:21 GMT -6
He probably was quite chagrined that he used up his last bullet! Kind of like a genie granting you three wishes, as long as you don't wish for more wishes, then wishing you hadn't squandered the first two wishes.
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Post by accountant on Feb 22, 2018 13:59:19 GMT -6
He probably was quite chagrined that he used up his last bullet! Kind of like a genie granting you three wishes, as long as you don't wish for more wishes, then wishing you hadn't squandered the first two wishes. Well, the light fixture which wasn't secured properly was strike one (apparently it should have been secured to the beam rather than just to the box). The backup plan of the pills didn't work (not sure why seeing a dead body made Paul throw up). That was strike two. And the backup plan to the backup plan with the gun died with the gang-banger. That's strike three. Like the old saying goes...All the planning in the world may not amount to a hill of beans when it comes to putting things into action. Looks like someone wants him to stick around for a while.
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Post by accountant on Feb 23, 2018 10:29:46 GMT -6
Chapter 23
Paul slowly came back to consciousness. The first thing he felt was a heavy weight on his body. Opening his eyes, he saw that the body of one of the dead men was lying on top of him. Paul quickly pushed him off and scooted out of the way. He then realized that he was lying in Chuck’s backyard against the house. The sun had gone down and there was darkness everywhere. The two dead bodies had also been moved there.
Paul tried to stand up and realized that he couldn’t. The pain in his head was worse than anything he had ever experienced. He put his head back down on the lawn. The coolness of the grass helped clear his mind a little. He knew that he was in Chuck’s backyard. He knew that someone had put him there. He also knew that they had taken the extension cord from around his neck. He knew that he was still alive.
Why? Why was he still alive? He should have been dead. This nightmare was supposed to be over. He had planned it so perfectly with the pills and the hanging. He was supposed to be dead, dammit! Now there were no more pills, the lighting fixture had broken and even the gun was empty. He had nothing left. Everything was gone. He should have been dead. It wasn’t fair! He didn’t deserve this torture! He had tried to do the right thing! It just wasn’t fair!
For a long time Paul lay there feeling alone and in pain, both physically and emotionally. Then, out of some deep recess of his mind, the spark of bitterness and anger grew. Yes, he was broken. Yes, this world had taken everything from him. But, he would be damned if he was going to let the fates laugh at him again.
Slowly, he crawled across the lawn and up Chuck’s deck stairs one at a time. He had to keep moving. He wasn’t going to just lay there like the dead around him. One step up and a rest, another step and another rest. Soon, he had reached the top on the deck and crawled through the smashed patio door into the house.
Like his home, Chuck’s house had been ransacked and everything lay everywhere. He could smell the smoke damage the house had sustained. Paul crawled into the kitchen. He knew that Chuck always kept some pain reliever medicine in the cabinet beside the sink for the morning after a night of hard festivities. Paul saw that all the cabinets had been opened and ransacked. Searching through the debris, he saw the broken bottle of Tylenol but there were no pills in it. He pushed things aside hoping to find something, anything, that would help. Finding nothing, Paul sat down with his back against the dishwasher. He took a deep breath and looked around. The place was a mess. Everything had been destroyed.
Wait. What was that under the fridge? He quickly crawled over and stuck his hand as far as it would go and felt something small, hard and round against his fingertip. Paul quickly pulled it out and saw that it was a pill.
Paul put it in his mouth and tried to swallow it but his tongue and throat were too dry. He knew there was no running water in the house since the first week but he hoped there was still a chance. Quickly, he crawled to the washroom. The sink and toilet had been destroyed, but the toilet tank was still intact. Taking the lid off, he reached in and felt the coolness of the water inside. Cupping his hand, he was able to take a handful of water into his mouth. It helped the pill move down his throat. More and more handfuls of water ended up in him mouth, on his face, in his hair and all over him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
Paul sat in that destroyed washroom and let the water flow into his body, replenishing it. This was what he had become. A failure at not one but two suicide attempts who sat in a neighbor’s ransacked house drinking toilet tank water.
“Hell no.”, Paul thought to himself, “This is not me. I’ve lived through too much. I’ve suffered through my whole life, getting pushed down again and again. I’ve always gotten up and kept moving and I’m not going to stop. Not here, not now.”
Paul pushed himself up to his feet with the help of the wall. The pain in his head would not subside. Slowly, he stepped out of the washroom, hanging onto the walls. He was out in the corridor now and continued to take one step after another towards the front door, leaning on the wall for support.
Wave after wave of pain crashed down on his head as he took one step and then another. The world was spinning but still he kept moving, hanging onto the wall for dear life. The front door getting closer and closer.
“One more step, just one more step”, Paul thought to himself as he made his way to the door.
Paul reached the broken door and stepped through it. On the porch, the cool breeze felt good on his damp face and hair.
Stepping down to the front lawn, Paul held his head to keep it from exploding.
“I just have to make it across the street and I’ll be home. One step after another. Just one step after another”, he reminded himself.
Slowly, anguishingly, Paul took small steady steps. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow but he would not stop.
Crossing the street, he had reached his driveway.
“Just a few more steps and I will be inside. Just a few more steps.”
His legs started to feel like jelly and the world continued to spin as he walked. The sweat came faster now. His head continued to pound. His body wanted him to stop, screaming from the pain and the exertion, but his stubbornness wouldn’t let that happen.
“Just a few more steps to the porch. Just a few more steps.”
After what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached the steps leading up to the porch. He couldn’t raise his foot up the first step and his body revolted against him. Paul had no choice but to sit down on the step to rest. He put his head down on the cool concrete, gasping for air. Paul knew that he could, after taking a rest, crawl up the steps and into the house, but he refused to do it. He had suffered and crawled too much in this life and he was determined to walk into that house.
He continued to rest, gathering up the strength for that final push into the house.
As he sat there with his head on the concrete and with no energy left, he heard a voice behind him.
“Why aren’t you dead!?!”
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Post by accountant on Mar 1, 2018 8:22:30 GMT -6
Chapter 23
Paul raised his head and looked towards the sound of the voice.
It was Carol and she was pointing his gun at him, shakingly.
“Put that down. It won’t do you any good. It’s empty.”, he managed to groan.
“Why aren’t you dead? Why aren’t you dead? I want to know!”, she said.
“I wish I was. Believe me, I tried. Help me into the house and we can talk more there.”, replied Paul as he tried to get up.
Carol didn’t move.
Paul raised himself to his feet, pushed himself up the steps, and onto the porch. He reached the front door and without turning said “Are you coming or not?”.
He heard Carol move towards him, so he entered his house and sat down on the chair he had set up in the office. The empty pill bottle and scotch was still on the desk.
“Where were you?”, she asked.
“I hid out in the ravine when the attack started and stayed there. Is there anyone else still safe?”
“You ran away and left us alone? You’re nothing but a selfish coward. You couldn’t even try to help us!”. The venom spewed from Carol’s lips.
“What was I supposed to do? You saw how many there were. We didn’t have a chance. There was nothing we could do.”, relied Paul, solemnly.
Carol rushed up and slapped Paul across the face as hard as she could, tears rolling down her face.
She continued to slap and hit Paul as she said, “You had a gun. You could have held them back, at least until some of us got away, you bastard! They made me watch! They made me watch while they butchered Brad. They made me watch when they killed Beth and Mark. They killed my babies! They killed my babies.”
The anguish overtook her as she slumped into Paul’s arms.
“They killed my babies.”, she sobbed as Paul held her.
He held her for a long time and let her cry without saying a word.
“More blood on my hands.”, he thought to himself, “I should have done something. I should have tried. I should have stood up to them. Maybe I could have given the rest of them a chance. Maybe some of them could have gotten away. She’s right, I am a coward.”
After what seemed like an eternity, Carol finally spoke.
“You had a gun. Why didn’t you do something?”, she asked, softly.
“I’m sorry. I had buried it in the ravine and forgot all about it until yesterday morning. I am so sorry. I am so sorry for what happened.”, he replied.
He wanted to tell her about how he had tried to kill himself twice. He wanted to tell her how he didn’t deserve to live. He wanted to beg her to kill him. He wanted to tell her that there was nothing he could do for her. But, he couldn’t. All he could do was hold her as she cried.
Carol got up and wiped the tears from her face.
‘What are we going to do now?”, she asked.
“I don’t know.”, replied Paul, “But I know that it’s not safe for you here anymore. You can’t stay here. They might come back looking for you or those two men. Do you have anywhere safe to go?”
“No, my family is all out on the coast and Brad’s…Brad’s are in Kingston. I…I..I have nowhere else to go and everyone else is either…dead or taken by the gang.”, Carol sobbed.
Paul took a deep sigh.
“Why is God doing this to me? I’m in too much pain. I can’t even take care of myself. How am I supposed to take care of her? It’s not fair. I don’t deserve this. Why won’t He let me die in peace?”, Paul thought to himself.
“Okay. Look, we are both in bad shape and need to rest. Come with me.”, he said to Carol.
Slowly, Paul got up and walked Carol to the family room.
He laid her down on the couch where he normally slept and picked up a throw that was on the ground. He quietly covered the sobbing, sniffling woman and sat down on the loveseat.
“Try to get some sleep. I will keep watch for a while.”, he said.
“Paul?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for what I said before.”
“It’s okay. Try to get some rest. We’ll figure something out in the morning.”
Paul watched as she closed her eyes.
“What am I going to do with her? I have no place to take her. I don’t want that responsibility. I’m broken myself, how can I take care of another broken person?”, thought Paul.
He stayed awake for the rest of the night, thinking, watching, and listening.
With the first rays of sunlight, Carol opened her eyes.
“Thank you.”, she said, softly.
“For what? I didn’t do anything.”
“You tried to take care of all of us when you had just lost Ana and Angie. You made sure we were looked after as best you could. You tried to keep us sane when the world was going crazy.”
“I didn’t do anything. It didn’t matter anyways, everything is lost now.”
They were both quiet for a while, thinking.
Paul thought about Shawna. Was someone taking care of her, like he tried to do with his small group? Was she safe somewhere in someone else’s group? He had to know.
“Carol?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know if Shawna is still alive or not. I need to know. I don’t want to leave you here alone, but I have to see if I can find her. London is a long ways away, but I have to go.”
Carol thought a long time about what Paul had said.
“Then I guess we are going to London.”, she replied.
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Post by solo on Mar 1, 2018 11:39:42 GMT -6
Thank you, Accountant!
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Post by texican on Mar 1, 2018 21:46:11 GMT -6
Accountant,
Some have to fall as far as possible before they stand back up and become what they are suppose to be....
Thanks for the chapters....
Texican....
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