Here is the story that I have been outlining for a while.  Like “Lights Out”, this is the first draft.  All suggestions, criticisms, and comments are welcomed and appreciated.  Unlike LO, this story is only going to be 100 to 120 thousand words long.  That puts it at a length that publishers prefer for first time authors.

A couple of warnings before you start reading.  I am going to try to post a chapter every two weeks or so, but I can’t make any guarantees and I won’t post anything until I am happy with it.  Also, and I haven’t decided this for sure, it’s possible that I may not post the whole story.  If I don’t, you will be able to get the rest.  Hopefully, you’ll have to buy the paperback.

Anyway, if you decide to read it, I hope you enjoy.  Thanks.

David

Update 5/6/11

I have removed all but the first six chapters.

We hope to have a major announcement very soon about this story.

I want to thank all of you for your support and encouragement over the years.

You guys are AWESOME!

Lost and Found

Chapter 1

DJ Frost was a likeable guy.  Most thought him a little on the eccentric side, but they couldn’t help but be pulled in by his happy-go-lucky personality and brilliant smile.  DJ, they would say, could have sold ice to Eskimos.  Many wondered why he wasn’t in sales instead of security.  The reason was that DJ liked working security.  People respected him and he liked helping strangers.  Just like Valerie.  DJ had turned the corner just as three guys pulled her into a van.  He chased them down and shot out their tires.  Then he single handedly apprehended two of them.  The police caught the other a few days later.  DJ was awarded the Employee of the Year Award.  He and Val started to date.  It didn’t last a long time, but it had been good for a while and they were still friends.  

Besides that, the uniform did seem to have an effect on the women.  DJ was no Robert Redford in the looks department, but he wasn’t an ogre either.  He worked out regularly and groomed himself meticulously. That coupled with the uniform and his disarming smile gave him more than his share of attention from the babes.  

The other thing DJ liked about his job was being able to carry a firearm.  After girls, weapons were DJ’s favorite passion.  He had a nice collection and shot them often.  Sometimes he was able to combine his two favorite pastimes by taking a woman to the range with him.  Most were hesitant at first, but once they fired a few rounds, they were usually hooked.  That always put a big smile on his face.

DJ wasn’t smiling now, though.  In fact, he had a scowl on his face.  Things were not good.  He had always told people that this could happen.  Most of them had laughed at him.  Some to his face, but the majority had done it behind his back.  They would politely listen as he talked about preparedness, but the minute they turned their back, he knew they were rolling their eyes.  He wondered how those people were doing now.  He hoped at least some of them had taken what he had said to heart.  Maybe some of them would make it through unscathed.  If the phones were working, he would have called to check on the ones he knew best.  But, that wasn’t possible now.

He sat in his townhouse apartment, listening to the radio and eating a bowl of Spaghetti-o’s that he had heated up on his backpacking stove.  The news was getting worse.  Many people were running out of food and the governments, both local and national, were losing control.  DJ had heard shots down the street just last night.  It was probably time to get the hell out of Dodge he thought as he listened to the droning reports.  He decided that he would start loading up and head out to his bug out location.  He would have left earlier, but once before it had looked like things were going south and he had bugged out.  Things turned around before anything bad happened, but when he got back, he found that he had lost his job.  He really liked the job he had now and didn’t want to lose it, so he waited this time.  By the time it was obvious that this was the real deal, the arteries out of the city had become clogged.  Then, martial law had been declared.  It would be a risk to leave.  But, not as big a gamble as staying in the city once the authorities lost complete control over the situation.

There had been many theories on what had started ‘The Smash.’  It seemed like there were five to ten experts on the television news channels each day, and each of them had a new pet hypothesis.  At least there had been for the few days from when the shit really hit the fan until yesterday, when the electricity had gone out. Some of the authorities had said it was fuel prices; others blamed the shrinking value of the dollar.  The burst of the housing bubble had some proponents, and a few even thought the government had done it deliberately.  Three or four had less popular suppositions, but all the so-called experts agreed that this was the worst thing to happen to America since the stock market crash in ‘29.

Most people were shocked that things could get so bad in such a short time.  It had even surprised DJ to some extent.  Oh, the build up had come over many years, but the end came astonishingly fast.  But, it really didn’t matter to DJ what the real cause was or how fast it had happened.  He had been preparing for this for years and trying to get others to do the same.  He had succeeded in a few instances, but most people didn’t want to be bothered by DJ’s gospel.  He figured the reason most didn’t listen was that they would have to admit to themselves that something bad could happen.  And, most people just couldn’t bring themselves to believe that bad things could happen to them.

When he finished his dinner he put the dishes in the sink and turned the faucet on.  Water came out, but at a reduced rate of flow.  DJ knew it was only a matter of time before there would be no running water.  He had plenty stored for when that happened, but he planned to be long gone before that time.  The loss of electricity had caused the crime rate to double overnight.  At least that is what the radio had said.  DJ suspected that it was much worse than that.  He knew that the longer things went, the worse it would get.  And, the loss of water would push even the law abiding over the edge.  

He finished the dishes and put them up.  It seemed almost foolish to do such mundane things when the world was falling apart, but DJ knew that routines should be followed whenever possible.  It helped one deal with the bizarre to do the ordinary, even if it was just washing, drying, and putting up the dishes.

He grabbed a flashlight and headed downstairs to his garage.  The layout of the units in this apartment complex was what had sold DJ on this location.  A pair of two car garages sat on the first floor of each building.  Then, one apartment sat on the second floor while another was located on the third floor.  Each apartment had a private indoor staircase that led from the kitchen to its garage.  The luxury townhouse apartments weren’t cheap, but DJ really had no other bills, so he could afford it.

His trusty old Toyota pickup sat in the bay closest to the stairs.  He had bugged out in it last time.  However, it wouldn’t be the vehicle that he would use to leave the city in the current crisis.  The news had covered the mass exodus when the unprepared hoards had tried to leave.  The lucky few that left early had few problems, but the ones that left only a few hours later had damned themselves from the start.  As more and more people saw the handwriting on the wall and tried to exit the city, the highways, never designed for so many cars, became death traps.  As the routes filled to two, three, and then many times their optimum capacity, travel slowed to a crawl.  Cars began to run out of gas.  Emergency vehicles were unable to reach the scene of wrecks to clear them and help the injured.  Fights broke out, first at gas stations along the routes, and then on the actual roads themselves.  Finally, the criminal element moved in on the helpless motorist like spiders on insects that get caught in their webs.  Many people, at least the lucky ones, had been forced to walk back to their homes, leaving most of the possessions they had packed.  The unlucky were still on the highways, silent as their useless vehicles. The governor had no choice but to call out the National Guard and restrict travel.  Heavy military trucks had been fitted with snowplow blades and had cleared lanes on the impacted roads, but now Guardsmen sat in machine gun topped Humvees with orders to stop anyone who tried to use those roads without authorization.

DJ walked around the truck and used his flashlight to find the propane lantern on the shelves loaded with his survival equipment.  He hung the lantern on a hook and pulled a lighter from his pocket.  A second later the garage was bathed in a yellow glow.  He turned and looked at his ultimate escape vehicle.  It was a Polaris Sportsman 800.  The ATV was the biggest and baddest ever built.  It had a top speed in excess of 70 miles and hour and a huge payload and towing capacity.  Attached to the back was an off road trailer that would haul a thousand pounds of cargo.  DJ had done some modifications to it so that between the trailer and the racks on the quad, he could easily carry all the bug out gear he needed for his trek.  

The bike had less than 500 miles on it.  He and his girlfriend had bought two smaller quads a couple of years ago.  When they broke up a year ago, DJ traded the older pair in on this new machine.  He reached down and turned the key.  The twin cylinder motor fired almost immediately.  However, instead of the roar that the stock exhaust system would have made, the quad made a ‘putt-putt’ sound that was barely audible over the hissing of the lantern.  DJ had installed a second muffler that quieted the four-wheeled beast to a level that even a librarian would not object to.  Hunters most often used the aftermarket exhaust system so they wouldn’t spook game.  It cut the performance of the big bike a little, but the trade off in power was well worth the stealth it afforded.  That wasn’t the only modification he had made to the big bike, either.  DJ smugly turned the machine off.  He checked the oil and water levels.  They were fine.  Then he twisted off the fuel cap and topped off the tank.  Next he checked the tires.  They were all over inflated, but that was on purpose.  The higher air pressure made the bike quieter and easier to handle on pavement.  When he got off the pavement, he could easily let some of the air out.

The tires checked, he turned back to his shelves and began pulling containers and items off and placing them in the trailer.  He had practiced this over and over, developing a system for where everything went.  It took less than 10 minutes to load the trailer.  He finished off by placing four 5-gallon jerry cans on the custom mounts that ran down the sides of the trailer.  That, combined with the four gallons in the tank would give DJ almost 400 miles of range.  More than enough to get to where he was going.

Next he grabbed a big plastic box that mounted to the rear rack of his Polaris.  It only took a few seconds to lock it down and then he began loading it, mostly with food and cooking gear.  When it was almost half full, he closed the lid.  The front rack had a built in waterproof storage space built under it.  He quickly filled it and then a medium sized duffle bag was bungeed down on the top.  He opened the door to his truck and removed several items from inside.  One was a small satchel of maps.  He looped the strap over his neck to take upstairs with him.  Next was a military type daypack that had enough of everything he would need, except for guns and ammo, to live for three days.  That went into the plastic box.  Finally, he removed his GPS from the mount in the Toyota and placed it in the one on his quad’s handlebars.  He rechecked everything and was almost done.  All that was left was to get his firearms and clothes.  He would load those right before he left.  He turned off the lantern and headed back upstairs.  Halfway up he stopped and slapped his forehead.  He came back down and with the aid of the flashlight he found a roll of duct tape. He pulled off two pieces that he placed over the taillights on the four-wheeler.  A little slip up like having a red light showing could ruin his day, he thought.

Back upstairs, he packed a small duffle with a week’s worth of clothes and toiletries.  Next he laid out what he would wear in the morning.  The last thing he did was go to the spare bedroom.  He opened his large gun safe and pulled out the weapons he would take.  If he had been able to take his truck, he would have taken all of his firearms.  However, since he just had the quad and trailer, he would only take what he absolutely had to have.  Three rifles, a shotgun with an extra barrel, and four handguns came out and were all cased except for one rifle and one handgun.  The handgun was placed in a drop leg holster that DJ would wear.  The rifle would go into a custom scabbard that gave DJ access to the rifle while he was moving.  It had taken a lot of work to get the scabbard right, but DJ was very proud of it.  It was not unlike what the cowboys had used a hundred years ago, although his steed and his rifle were unlike anything someone from that era had ever seen.  

DJ pulled an odd shaped container and a thirty-caliber ammo can from one of the shelves in the safe.  The ammo can was heavy.  It had a small wad of cash in it, not that cash was worth much these days.  What made it heavy was the old silver coins and the few gold coins that it held.  The coins would assure him more than just a meager existence when he got to his destination.  DJ closed the safe with hope that he could one day come back here, if for nothing else than to get the rest of his gun collection.  

Finally, he opened a metal cabinet that sat next to the safe and pulled out loaded magazines for the two guns that were not cased.  Extra ammo was already loaded, some on the quad and quite a bit in the trailer.  He put the magazines in a vest that had pockets set up just to carry them and a few other essentials.  He carried all of the stuff to his room and placed it at the foot of his bed.

He looked at his watch.  It was almost nine.  He found his map satchel and pulled out an atlas of his state.  He turned to the back where there was a map of the city.  He already knew the route he would take, but traced it with his finger anyway.  He looked at all of his backup routes and searched for any means to get out of the city that he might have previously missed.  After thirty minutes of scouring the map, he yawned.  He stretched and looked around the apartment.  On the desk in the corner of the living room sat his now useless computer.

Talk on his favorite Internet survival forums had increased ten or twenty fold before the net had gone down.  Most of the traffic on those survival and preparedness websites was from newbies who were coming face to face with the new reality.  It was most likely too late for those people.  He tried to help them as much as he could, but most of them were screwed and DJ knew it even if they didn’t.  He wondered how the regulars on the sites were doing.  Many were more prepared than he was.  They lived out in the country and already had gardens and livestock.  Others were more or less in the same boat as him.  They had places to go, but would they be able to get there?  He hoped so, even for the ones who normally disagreed with him.  He had continually preached that everyone who intended to bug out should have a plan other than automobiles and Interstates.  Some had listened and taken what he had said to heart.  Many had bought dirt bikes or quads like his.  Some were not so far that they couldn’t walk to their retreats in a few days.  DJ even had a plan for going on foot if it came down to it.  Although, he didn’t relish the thought of a 350 mile hike.

DJ yawned again.  Better get some sleep, he thought.

He set the alarm on his expensive wristwatch for three-thirty AM.  He figured that most of the troublemakers would be in bed by four.  If he left then, it would give him at least a couple of hours to get well out of town before dawn.  The most danger would come in the first twenty miles of his escape route.  After that it would fall off as he got further and further from town. DJ had played out this scenario over and over in his mind.  Now that he was going to have to put his plan into action he was both excited and a little scared.  

He took a shower.  Even though the water was cold, he enjoyed it.  It might be the last one he would get for a while. He hit the sack and tried to sleep.  His mind kept racing over his escape plan.  Would he make it out of the city without incident?  What would happen to those who stayed in town?  Would this all blow over in a few days like the government was promising?  DJ was pretty sure he knew the answer to that one.  He turned over and tried to make his mind slow down.  Distant gunshots could be heard occasionally, which didn’t help, but he finally drifted off, even if it was a fitful sleep.


***


Gabe twisted the top off of the bottle and poured the amber liquid into a glass.  He stared at it blankly for a second.  He put the glass to his lips and threw his head back.  It burned going down and boiled once it hit his stomach.  He absently poured again.  He stared at this second glass for a moment.  He hated the alcohol.  He hated what it did to him.  He hated what it had done to them.  Basically, he hated everyone.


Chapter 2

When the alarm beeped on DJ’s watch it jarred him into full alertness.  He hit the button on the side to quiet the watch and then he looked at the luminescent hands.  He sat up and stretched.  A few minutes later, he was dressed.  Normally he would have made the bed, but he was in a hurry.  Besides, he thought, what would be the point? He quickly fixed some breakfast and ate.  He thought about not washing the dishes.  However, he didn’t want to have a vermin problem when, or if, he came back, so he hurriedly rinsed the dishes off and put them in the dish strainer.  

It took three trips to carry his guns and other gear down to the garage.  He placed all of the carefully selected equipment next to his quad.  With the aid of his flashlight, he went back up to the apartment and walked through one more time checking to make sure that everything was squared away.  He opened his safe and looked lovingly at the firearms he was leaving behind.  He would like to take them, but there was only so much room.  If fortune smiled upon him, he could make a trip back and retrieve them and the ammo for them.  Hopefully, the massive gun safe would protect them until that time.  DJ had done his homework and this was the best safe that would fit through the door of his apartment.  It not only had the best locking system, it was also fireproof.  DJ had bolted it down to the floor, even though it was against the apartment complex’s rules.  It would be almost impossible for someone to open it as long as it sat in the apartment, and it would take a tow truck to remove it from its position.

DJ closed the door and spun the dial.  He finished his last inspection, and satisfied that everything was good to go, he locked the kitchen door behind him and walked back down stairs.  He loaded most of the items he had brought down this morning in their carefully pre-picked positions and then rechecked his load once again to make sure he had everything and that it was properly secured.  This was it, he thought.  This was what he had been planning for.  He shivered slightly as he turned the key on his ATV.  The machine fired immediately and purred perfectly.  DJ really appreciated the electronic fuel injection on this bike.  Not only did it increase the fuel economy, it also did not have to be choked and warmed up before it ran smoothly like his old carbureted quads had.

There were five items left on the floor.  DJ bent over and picked up the black rifle.  He put a loaded magazine in it and chambered a round.  After checking that the safety was on, he put it in the special home built scabbard.  Next he threaded the drop-leg holster that held his custom pistol onto his belt and cinched up the leg straps.  Then he donned his bulletproof vest.  He had bought it used over the Internet.  It was rated to stop up to a thirty-caliber non-armor piercing rifle bullet.  DJ hoped he never had to find out if that was true.  On top of the body armor, DJ put on a load bearing vest that contained several magazines for his rifle, a few for his pistol, and some other important survival equipment.  If, God forbid, he was to lose the rest of his gear, he could scrape by for several days with just what was in the vest.  The last item was the oddly shaped case that he had removed from the safe last night.  He picked it up, opened it, and pulled out the night vision goggles.  Next to his four-wheeler, this was the most expensive piece of equipment he had, and in many ways, the most important.  He opened the storage box on the back of his quad and put the case in.  He removed the Kevlar helmet from the box and closed the lid.  The NV goggles attached to the helmet and the whole assembly went on his head.  He turned off his flashlight, hit the power on the goggles, and put the light in its place on his vest.  DJ was almost giddy at the excitement.  He had planned this exodus for years, but he had obviously not been able to actually rehearse it.  He had, however, run through the parts he could and had thoroughly thought out the others.  He hoped that it worked as well as he thought it would.  He peeled back the heavy curtain over one of the windows and looked out.  No one was to be seen.  He lifted up the garage door and then slowly pulled his quad and trailer out onto the driveway.  A few seconds later, the garage door was shut and locked and DJ was whizzing down the street.    
 
It was still warm outside, but the wind from his thirty mile-per-hour speed made it seem almost cool.  Two blocks down the street, he saw three guys trying to break into a car in a driveway.  DJ watched them closely.  When he was half a block away, they heard his tires on the pavement.  They began to look around to see what was coming, but he was past them before they could spot him.  DJ smiled.

A mile down the road he came to his first major street crossing.  DJ brought the big quad to a stop where he could see both ways, but well back of the stop sign.  He looked both ways and saw a police car coming down the road shining its spotlight at the front of the businesses that lined the street.  He slipped the transmission into reverse and slowly backed up behind some cars parked on the street.  It seemed to take forever for the police to past, but when they finally did, they never even shined the light in his direction.  DJ’s tensed gluteus muscles relaxed as he watched them pass.

He pulled back up to the intersection and looked both ways again.  Through the night vision goggles he could see that he wasn’t the only one that hid from the cops as they passed.  Two blocks up a couple of people were working on a businesses door with what looked like a crowbar.  DJ gave his machine some gas and crossed the six lanes with no one the wiser.  He was happy so far.  Everything was going according to plan.

Five minutes later, the scenery changed.  The middle class neighborhoods he had been driving through gave way to one of the poorer sections of town.  DJ tightened his grip on the handlebars.  There were many more people out and about in this area.  Some were sitting in front of their houses with rifles or shotguns across their laps.  Occasionally, he would hear music coming from somewhere in a house.  Some people were visiting on street corners.  DJ wondered if they were just talking or if there was some kind of drug deal going down.  A few others were sneaking around houses that were dark and quiet.  DJ hoped that there was no one in those houses.

Some of the people on the corners would hear his tires and start looking for him.  They almost never saw him until he was almost to them.  By the time they realized what was going on, he was past them.  DJ increased his speed a little.  His tires would make a little more noise, but as dark as it was, no one would be able to see him until he was almost even with them.  And the faster he put distance between himself and them, the better.

As the area got worse and worse, a shiver went up DJ’s spine.  He looked hard for the eyes he could only feel.  It was said that even the cops wouldn’t come to this neighborhood without sufficient backup and DJ understood why.  He had driven through here in his truck during the daylight hours and other than the run down houses and gang graffiti, it didn’t seem too bad.  But, here in the pitch black without two tons of steel around him, it gave him the willies.  He imagined that he could hear screams coming inside the dilapidated old buildings.  Every bush or tree seemed to hold some unseen goblin.  Every dark shadow was a demon wanting his soul.  He found himself leaning on the throttle more and more until his speed was almost fifty.  He knew he only had a couple of miles before he hit the railroad tracks.  They would offer him a safer route out of the city, but he had to get there.  He tried to focus on the road, but he couldn’t help but notice more and more people lurking about.  At this point, he wished that he had chosen a longer route through better neighborhoods.  But, when he had planned his escape, he had chosen the more direct route.  It had seemed less risky to go the short way, even if it were through the less desirable section of town.  Now, he questioned that logic.

All of a sudden, it seemed that there were few people outside.  DJ wondered why.  He relaxed some, but he kept his speed up.  Two more minutes he thought as he approached a slight curve in the road.  As he got to where he could see around the curve his heart jumped into his throat.  There was a line of cars parked side by side blocking the road.  

DJ yanked the brake lever as he cursed himself.  He knew there was a possibility of running into a roadblock and he had practiced turning around quickly.  But, not from the fifty miles per hour he had been going.  Hopefully, they hadn’t heard him, or better yet, maybe the automotive barricade was unmanned.

DJ’s hopes were dashed when a set of headlights came on in one of the cars and shined right on him.  The night vision goggles automatically shut down at the sudden emergence of light.  At that point, everything seemed to happen at once.  DJ reached up with his non-braking hand and pushed the goggles up from in front of his eyes.  Two more sets of headlights came on and he squinted to see through the blinding beams.  He felt the back brakes lock and the heavy trailer pushed the back of the bike to the right.  Just then he saw the muzzle flash, or at least what he thought might be a muzzle flash.  He slid his butt off of the seat to the left, only holding on with his hands and his right leg that was hooked over the top of the bike.  This would not only help to shield him from the gunfire; it helped to keep the bike from turning over.  

DJ looked to his left and saw an empty driveway.  He released the brake and bike began to change directions as the wheels began to roll.  He turned the handlebars toward the driveway and pushed the throttle a little.  The big bike dashed into the drive.  He thought he could hear a bullet buzz by as he continued turning around in the front yard of the old house.  DJ mashed the throttle more and sped across three or four yards until one filled with junk forced him back onto the road.  He looked back over his shoulder as he rounded the bend in the road.  He prayed that they would not follow him.  He was quick, and off road, no full size vehicle would be able to keep with him.  However, on the pavement he would be no match for a fast car.

He flipped on his headlights and continued to accelerate away from the roadblock.  Three blocks down, he turned right, went a block and then turned right again.  He slowed and turned off his headlight.  A second later he heard a car scream past.  He placed his night vision goggles back over his face and looked around.  He couldn’t see anyone.  At the next corner he turned left and resumed his practiced speed of thirty miles per hour.  He noticed that his heart was pounding and his whole body seemed to be shaking.  He tried to force himself to calm down by taking some slow deep breaths.  It didn’t work.  

A minute later, he turned back to the right.  This put him back on his original heading, even if he was eight or nine blocks to the south of his original course. DJ began to pay attention to where he was and this seemed to have a small calming influence.  He checked the GPS and saw that he only had a few more blocks until he turned onto Davidson Drive.  This was part of his primary escape route.  Davidson went through an older industrialized section of town and crossed the railroad track that would take him out of town.  He would now be on it for an extra half a mile, but it should be fairly deserted.  He made the right turn and was thankful that nothing appeared amiss.

Three minutes later DJ turned onto the dirt road that ran along the tracks.  This was railroad company property, but he didn’t expect they would mind given the circumstances, even if they did see him.  In fact, DJ was sure that there would be no one along this route.  He had used the Internet and a site that had satellite pictures of the earth to examine every foot of this course.  It only passed through industrial areas and became more and more rural each mile he went.  

DJ looked at his watch.  It had been fifty minutes since he left his apartment.  He had made better time than he had allowed, even with his unexpected detour.  DJ thought about the mistake he had made by traveling faster than the speed he could easily control the bike at.  He vowed not to vary from his carefully crafted plan again.  After about a mile, he stopped his bike and inspected it for damage.  Thankfully, there was none so he climbed back on and continued.
 
The next hour passed quickly and quietly.  DJ had to climb onto the tracks to cross a few creeks on the bridges, but he had expected that.  He was always careful to look for trains before he put the quad between the rails.  Once, on a longer bridge, he even turned off the bike and put his ear to the rail to make sure that no train was coming.  He suspected that the trains weren’t running, but he didn’t want to find out differently at a precarious point.  

DJ finally reached his first waypoint.  It was an area along a creek where the trees grew thick and he could camp for the day with little danger of being seen or bothered.  When the bike was in the middle of the small wooded area, DJ turned the four-wheeler off.  He pitched his tent, ate a quick snack, and covered the quad and trailer with some surplus camo netting.  He climbed into the tent just as the horizon was turning pink.  With the adrenaline worn off, he fell almost immediately to sleep, his rifle by his side.


***


Gabe heard the car door slam.  He was almost asleep in the chair, but not quite.  He jumped at the noise, even in his drunken state.   He struggled out of the chair and staggered to the window.  That damn boy!  What the hell did he want?  Gabe stumbled to the door of the trailer and opened it, almost falling out onto the small landing.

“This ain’t your day,” he slurred.  “What the hell do you want?”

“Mr. Horn, my mom wanted me to come by and make sure that you knew what was happening.”

“Oh, yeah.  And what would that be?”

“Things are getting really bad, Mr. Horn.  It’s like the world is ending or something.  The government has de…”

“Do I look like I give a shit?”  

The boy’s eyes got big at the interruption.  

“Well do I?” Gabe shouted.

The young teenager said nothing.

“Now you get the fuck out of here and leave me alone.  It’s not your day.”  Gabe turned around and took a wobbly step back into his house.  He didn’t remember to close the door.  Inside the house, he wasn’t able to see the boy climb back into the old pickup.  He only heard the door creak as it was closed and then the engine start.

Why would I give a shit anymore if the world ended, Gabe thought as he poured himself another shot of whiskey.


Chapter 3

DJ woke up and looked at his watch.  It was just after noon and the air in his tent was warming up.  He pulled his boots back on and stepped outside holding his rifle.  Nothing looked as if it had been disturbed.  He carefully walked around the perimeter and made sure that all was as it should be in this little secluded section of woods.  Content that nothing was amiss, DJ looked out beyond the trees.  Fields surrounded this spot except for the creek, the tracks, and one lone farmhouse that looked to be a mile or more away.  The crops varied from field to field.  DJ didn’t know exactly what the plants were except for the corn.

He would wait for dark to continue his trek.  That gave him about eight hours to kill.  He fixed himself a nice meal, taking his time as he had plenty of it.  Once he had eaten, he strung up a net hammock between two trees and pulled out a book.  As he read, cotton like clouds began to move in on the breeze.  They covered the sun and dropped the temperature a few degrees.  The breeze, cloud cover, and large meal were just the right formula for a nap.  DJ didn’t even notice the book slip from his hand.

The noise woke him up.  He didn’t know what it was, but he knew it wasn’t right.  He dumped himself out of the hammock and clutched his rifle.  At first he thought the sound might be from a piece of farm equipment, but a quick look around revealed no machinery in any of the fields.  I seemed to be coming down the tracks from toward town.  It didn’t sound like a locomotive, at least not one of the big ones.  Maybe it was one of the small engines they used to do maintenance on the tracks.  DJ checked to make sure that nothing he had would give him away without a thorough search of the woods.    The white pages of the book lying on the ground were showing.  He quickly picked it up and stuck it under the cover on his ATV.  Satisfied that his hide was now as secure as it could be given the situation, he peered down the tracks to see what could be making the noise.

DJ almost laughed when the old Cadillac rounded the bend.  One side’s tires were inside the tracks and the others on the outside, but still on the wooden ties.  As it got closer, DJ could see that the whole car was shaking, as the suspension was unable to absorb all of the consistent bumping rhythm the evenly spaced ties caused.

The Detroit dinosaur was only moving at twenty or twenty-five miles per hour.  As it slowly crept toward DJ’s woods, he moved behind a tree to conceal himself, but where he could still see.  As the car finally passed, DJ could only see a driver in the car.  The old man looked to be in his seventies or early eighties.  He looked straight ahead as he passed with a grip on the steering wheel that turned his knuckles white.  DJ watched until the old man was out of sight.

When the fins on the old car disappeared around the next bend, DJ looked at his watch.  It said almost 4:00 PM.  He returned to his hammock and book and read for about an hour and a half.  He fixed another meal and ate.  Then he pulled out his maps again and scoured his route for this night.  He would have ten hours of darkness and he planned to make a good distance tonight.  His next hideout was about 150 miles away.  He would stay on the tracks for about two thirds of that distance, a section of gravel county roads was after that, then he had a route down a power line easement.  He had not been down the easement, but he had gone down every road that intersected it and had marked it both on his map and in his GPS.  Happy with the plan for tonight, he put the maps up and tried to get a little more sleep before he left.  

He may have dozed off for a minute or two here or there, but he didn’t think so.  Finally, it started getting dark so he broke camp and loaded everything up. It wasn’t quite full dark when he left, but close enough.  

The first few miles went just as he planned, but the road beside the tracks began to gradually get rougher the further he went.  This wouldn’t have normally been a problem.  The quad and trailer were made for much rougher conditions than these.  The problem was really with his night vision goggles and his lack of depth perception with them.  Many of the potholes and bumps he was hitting just looked like flat ground.  He couldn’t brace himself for the bumps he couldn’t see, and a few times he almost got pitched off the big bike.  Some of what looked like bumps and holes were really just shadows and many times what he thought was going to be a bump was nothing.  He found himself going slower and slower.  He was still making good time, much better than if he were walking or even running, but it wasn’t as fast as he had planned.   He could take off the night vision goggles and use his headlight, but that would make him more vulnerable if someone was waiting along the track.  He would just go the slower speed and adjust his plan.

Something else changed that he hadn’t planned on.  He had to climb up onto the tracks more and more.  Not just for the creeks.  He knew where all of those were.  But there were more and more trees fallen over the access road.  DJ figured that this section of the road must not have been used in quite some time.  In many places the grass was grown up quite tall and he had to be especially careful of uneven ground in those spots.  Between creeping through the grass and navigating around the trees every few miles, he finally decided that riding on the tracks like the old man in the Cadillac would be faster.  But, would it be safer?

No trains had traveled down this track in the eighteen hours he had been next to it.  But, that didn’t guarantee that there wouldn’t be a train.  DJ wondered if he should risk it.  He would be able to see one coming from the front, but a train coming from behind is what scared him.  He wished he had a rearview mirror on his bike, but he had never thought he would need one.  Oh well, he couldn’t think of everything.

He weighed his three choices.  He could ride the tracks, but the thought of being turned to mush by a train was one of his greatest fears.  He could use his headlight.  However, that not only would make him very visible, it really wouldn’t solve his problem with either the tall grass or the trees.  Or, he could continue down the road using his night vision, but at less than half speed.

He easily dismissed using the headlight and his fear of a train sneaking up on him convinced him to stay off of the tracks.  However, two miles down the road, it became so overgrown that he had no choice but to climb up onto the tracks and stay there.  DJ wondered how old the satellite pictures he had downloaded off of the Internet and planned his route with were?  He wouldn’t have thought that the railroad would let their access road get so overgrown, but obviously they had.  It was too bad that he had not been able to test out this route before now.  Well, it really didn’t matter at this point; he would just have to do what he had to do.

The trailer was equipped with taillights, but he had left them unconnected.  He decided to hook them up.  They would hopefully be visible to a train if it approached and perhaps the engineer would blow his horn if he got too close.  Besides, DJ thought, I really don’t have to be that concerned about anything but a train from behind me, so the taillights are okay.

He was able to almost return to the speed he had originally planned to travel at.  This was a lot better than the road had been.  He had to deal with the unevenness of the ties and the gravel between them, but that was minor and the bike easily soaked up the bumps as long as he kept a reasonable pace.  He made sure to check behind him every minute or so.

At midnight he began to get hungry.  He pulled the four-wheeler off of the tracks and found a nice little open spot.  Opening the storage box on the back of the Polaris, DJ removed an MRE and opened it with the aid of his red LED headlamp.  He activated the chemical heater with a little water and slid the main course into the heater pouch.  While he waited for his chicken and noodles to warm up, he snacked on the crackers and cheese spread.  MRE’s weren’t DJ’s favorite food, but they were easy and filling.  

When he had finished the meal, he stashed what was left of the MRE into the box.  The trash he stuck into a large Ziploc bag.  He would burn it when he got somewhere safe enough to build a fire.  He started the quad back up and put the night vision goggles back on.  Back on the tracks, he continued making decent time, happy that things were working out almost as well as he had expected.

A little while later, DJ was rounding a long slow bend in the tracks.  As he finally got to where the tracks straightened out and he could see for quite a ways, he hit the brakes on the quad.  At the moderate speed he was going, the big bike stopped almost instantly.  There was something on the tracks about half a mile in front of him.  It was hard to judge distance very well with the goggles.  He removed them, but all he could see with his naked eyes was blackness.  He put them back on and slowly pulled the bike down into the tall grass beside the tracks.  He was careful to keep the engine RPM’s as low as he could so that he would make as little sound as possible.

He shut the bike off and dismounted.  He would go check it out on foot.  He removed the black rifle from the scabbard and set it down next to him.  Then he removed the camo netting that covered both the quad and the trailer and draped it over them.  Picking up his rifle, he checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded and slowly started to make his way toward whatever was on the tracks.

DJ moved slowly and carefully through the tall grass.  Every fifty steps he crept up toward the tracks until he could get a look at the obstruction.  He was very cautious to only stick his head up just enough to see.  This would present whoever or whatever was down there the smallest target possible if they were watching for someone.  

He had covered almost half the distance when he was finally able to discern what was on the tracks.  It was the Cadillac that had passed his camp this afternoon.  DJ watched the car for several minutes, but could perceive no movement around or in it.  He wondered what had happened.  Had someone jumped the old man?  Maybe he had broken down, or simply run out of gas.  No matter what had happened, DJ realized that this could be a trap.  He slowed his pace even more and in addition to stopping to look, he spent more time listening.

He got closer and closer to the car, but he wasn’t able to see or hear anything out of the ordinary.  The closer he got the more careful he was.  He moved past the car about a hundred yards to make sure no one was set up on the other side.  Once he was satisfied that it was safe, he sneaked up to the car.  Looking inside, he saw the old man lying on the front seat.  DJ wondered if he was asleep or dead.  The back seat was full of all kinds of stuff.  Pots and pans, clothing, tools, canned goods, and lots of other things were stacked from the floor to the top of the seats.

DJ slowly walked around the car looking for any signs of foul play.  He didn’t see any, but he did see the reason the Caddy was stopped.  One of the ties had obviously rotted and the front tire of the big car had fallen through it and become wedged between the ties on each side of the rotted one.

DJ caught movement from inside the car out of the corner of his eye.  His head swiveled around to see the old man sit up behind the wheel.  DJ instinctively ducked down behind the car, gripping his weapon a little tighter.  The old man stepped on the brakes and the lights washed out DJ’s view through the goggles.  DJ pulled them off of his face as he heard the hum of an electric window.

“Is anyone out there?” the old man asked.

DJ wondered whether to answer or not.

“Is anyone out there?” he repeated, a little louder.

What could the old man do to him?  “Yeah,” DJ answered.

“Do you think you could help me get my car unstuck?  I can pay you.”

“Do you have any weapons?”

“Just an old shotgun and a revolver,” the old man said.  “But, I need them.  I can pay you cash, though.”

DJ found the man’s answer amusing.  He had no need for relics.  “I don’t want them.  I just want to make sure you’re not going to shoot me.”

“You don’t worry about that, Sonny.  I wouldn’t do no one no harm unless they was trying to harm me.”

“That’s good to know.  Do me a favor; take your foot off the brake pedal.”

The brake lights went out.

“Now, turn on the interior lights,” DJ said.

DJ saw the dome light come on.

“Please stick your hands out of the window.”

“What for?” the old man said.

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Yes.”

“Then please do as I ask.  Don’t worry; I’m not going to hurt you.  I just have to make sure it’s safe,” DJ said with authority in his voice.

“Okay, my hands are out of the window.”

DJ stepped out from behind the car and activated his weapon mounted light.  He shined it in the old man’s eyes as he continued to move clockwise.  “Now, use the outside door handle and open your door.”

The man did as he was told.

“Step out and put your hands on top of your head and interlace your fingers, please.”

Again the man complied.  His back was toward DJ and he shone his light up and down, looking for a weapon.  Nothing was visible.

“Now, turn around and face me.”

When the man was facing him, DJ again looked for a weapon.  He sized the old man up.  He was average height, but very thin.  The look on his face said that it was safe, but DJ knew that looks could be deceiving.

“Where are your weapons?”

“The shotgun is in the trunk and my handgun is in the glove box.”

“Good. We’re almost done here,” DJ assured the man.  “Turn back around and I’m just going to pat you down a little.”

The man turned and 30 seconds later DJ was convinced that he was not a threat.  He turned off his weapon light.

“Sorry about all of that,” DJ said, “but you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“I guess that’s right,” the man said thoughtfully.  He stuck out his hand.  “My name is Jacob Kessler.”

DJ grabbed the hand firmly.  “DJ, DJ Frost.  Where are you headed, Mr. Kessler?”

“Please call me Jacob.  Everybody does.  I’m going to my son’s place.  At least I was until I got stuck.  He lives about twenty miles from here, I think.”

“I see.  Aren’t you afraid a train might come along?”

“No.  I live beside the tracks just outside of town.  Some days, there are eight or ten trains that go down these tracks.  Four’s about the fewest there ever is.  But there hasn’t been a single one since the electricity went out.  I guess they need power to track where the trains are and run the switches and stuff.”

DJ hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense.  He looked at his watch.  He was surprised that it had been an hour and a half since he had first spotted the Cadillac.  It was pushing three in the morning.  It was obvious that he wouldn’t be making anywhere near the distance he had planned.  He would help the old man out and then try to find a good spot to hole up for the daylight hours.  He had packed plenty of extra food for just in case he got delayed a day or two.

“Where did you come from?” Jacob asked.

“I came from town, just like you.”

“Where’s your car?”

“I don’t have one,” DJ said.

“You’re not walking are you?”

“No, I have a four wheeler about half a mile down the tracks.  I just walked up here to make sure it wasn’t a trap.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jacob said.  “Both the four wheeler and checking for a trap, that is.”

“Well, let’s see if we can’t get you unstuck.”  DJ pulled a small flashlight out of the cargo pocket of his trousers and shined it on the problem wheel.

“I can’t get her to budge frontward or backward.”

“Do you have a jack?”

“Yes, but I already tried that.  It’s one of those scissor jacks and the place you have to put is too close to the tracks to get it under the car.”

“Let me see it,” DJ said.

The old man opened the passenger door on his car and retrieved the jack from the floorboard.  He handed it to DJ.  The younger man tried to get the jack behind the stuck wheel, but there wasn’t quite enough room.  He looked in front of the tire, but there was no place there that the jack would mate up to.  It was made to only attach to the vehicle at the four jack points.  Probably some lawyer design, DJ thought.  If only he had been able to bring his truck, he would have had his hi-lift jack.  However, there was no use dwelling on that.  He would just have to make do with what he had.

He looked at the back of the car and saw that it was slightly further away from the tracks than the front.  Probably a result of the old man spinning the tires as he tried to get out, he thought.  DJ tried the jack in front of the back tire and it slipped into place with almost no room to spare.  It would fit here and it might raise the whole side of the car up enough; they would just have to see.  DJ attached the handle and began to crank.  What the little jack lacked in versatility, it made up for in lift.  As the car began to rise, DJ watched the front tire.  It remained stuck between the ties until the jack was almost as high as it would go.  Then, it popped out.  

“All right!” Jacob said as the tire finally came free.

DJ smiled and finished cranking the jack up the last inch or so.  “Now we just need to find a board or something to bridge the broken tie,” he said.

“What if we just fill the hole with gravel?”

“Why not?”

The two men took positions on each side of the wheel and used their hands to pack as much gravel as they could in the hole.  When they could get no more it, DJ let the jack down.  The tire was almost level with the others.  Jacob started the car and easily pulled forward.  He got out of the car, a huge smile on his face.

“Thank you so much, DJ.”  He pulled his wallet out and retrieved a hundred dollar bill.  DJ could see that there wasn’t a lot of cash in the leather case.  “Here you go.”

DJ almost waved the old guy off.  After all, the money was probably not worth much and he didn’t need it.  But, he thought, it might come in handy and he didn’t want to hurt the old man’s feelings.

“Thank you, Jacob.” He said as he stuffed the bill down in his pocket.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?  Would you like a ride to my son’s place?  It’s not much, but you could get a decent meal.”

“Thanks, Jacob, but I just better be on my way.  Good luck to you.”

“Same to you, DJ.  You stay safe,” Jacob said.

“You might want to keep that revolver where you can get to it quickly.  No telling in these times what you might run into.”

“So noted,” the old man said.  “Thanks again.  If you change your mind about coming by my son’s place, it’s about five miles north of the tracks on Route 87.  Just look for the bigmouth bass mailbox that says Kessler.”

“Thanks,” DJ said with a single nod of his head.

Jacob climbed back in the Cadillac and moved down the tracks.  DJ walked back down toward his quad thinking about how he hadn’t even done a third of the distance he had planned.  When he got back, he noticed that there were enough trees and other cover right here to hide him well enough until tomorrow evening.  He pitched his tent and hit the sack.


***

Gabe woke up.  He smacked his lips and made a face.  His mouth tasted like shit.  He got out of bed and trudged to the bathroom.  The face in the mirror looked like crap.  Blood shot eyes, four days of facial hair growth, and coming off of a three day bender could do that.  Of course, a genuine hatred for one’s self didn’t help any.  The face stared back with the same hatred that everyone held for Gabe.  Well, almost everyone. He put some toothpaste on the brush and began the long process of making himself half human again. Next came a shower and then a shave.

As he combed his hair in the dresser mirror, he almost recognized himself.  He was thinner and his face was haggard, but he still looked a little like the Gabe from before.  This thought pulled his eyes to the picture of the three of them.  He only looked for a second though.  Any longer would send him back to the whiskey.    

After dressing, Gabe walked into the living room and surveyed the singlewide mobile home.  Nothing looked damaged or too out of place.   A condition that indicated that he had just drank until he passed out this time.  The front door was open, and he wondered why.  Had someone come to see him?  He couldn’t remember for sure but it seemed that someone had.  He closed the door and then hurriedly straightened up the rest of the house.

Hunger gnawed at his stomach. Had he eaten in the past three days?  The single plate in the sink said yes, but he couldn’t remember when or what.  He fixed some bacon, eggs, and biscuits, and sat down at the table.  He ate quickly as his hunger really manifest itself after the first bite.  When his breakfast was done, he washed the dishes and put everything back where it went. Then, he quickly grabbed his hat and headed for the door.  There was dirty work that needed to be done and he was just callous enough to do it.


Chapter 4

DJ slept soundly until about ten.  He probably would have slept longer, but the sound of voices jarred him awake.  A little disoriented at first, it took him a minute to remember where he was and why.  It came back to him after a moment and he began to wonder if he had imagined the voices.  The answer came when he heard them again.  He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the fact that they were human was undeniable.  He quickly and quietly dressed and stepped out of the tent, his rifle in hand.

He stood at the door and listened.  A moment later he saw movement and he squashed his instinct to hit the dirt.  He knew that even though he was more exposed than he would like, it was safer to be still.  He only moved his eyeballs to track the movement and a second later he could see that it was from two people on bicycles.  A young man and a young woman were heading the same way he was going.  They both had their mountain bikes loaded with gear and the man had a trailer attached to his bike.  It was one that was designed to carry children.  DJ didn’t know if it held its intended cargo or if it just had more gear in it, but whatever it carried, he thought that the plan was a good one.

Of course, they shouldn’t be talking and he didn’t see anything for self-defense, but it was still a good plan.  They were moving quickly, the bikes were quiet, and they were able to carry a good bit of gear.  Fortunately, for them and for DJ, they passed without even knowing that he was there.  He relaxed and was thankful they were moving quickly because the woods here were not as thick as they had seemed in the dark.  His tent stood out the most, so he took it down and packed it.  He moved the quad into a better spot and recovered it.  Satisfied that things were as good as he could get them, he decided to fix some breakfast.

As he ate, he realized that he had to be more careful about where he set up camp.  If the bicyclist had not spoken, he probably would not have wakened.  He wondered if anyone had passed when he was asleep.  He doubted it, but it was possible.  He might have to start using some precautions just in case someone did stumble onto his camp.  

Later in the day, DJ was playing solitaire when he heard voices again.  They were coming from down the tracks and he guessed they were at least 50 yards away.  What is going on, he wondered.  It seemed as if the tracks were turning into a main thoroughfare.  I’ve got to get off these tracks as soon as I can, he thought.

He carefully moved to where he could see down the tracks.  He was surprised that the people were further away than they had sounded.  It was a small group of four or five walking between the rails in a tight cluster and moving too fast to be watching for ambushes but too slow to cover much ground.  The one in the lead had a rifle, but DJ couldn’t tell about the others.  They were making no effort to be quiet or conceal themselves.  DJ wondered how they had made it this far with their lack of noise discipline.  DJ could take them out easily by himself if he had the notion.  It was a good thing for them that he was one of the good guys, he thought.

He was thankful for their leisurely pace, though.  It gave him time to look at his camp once again.  There was nothing for them to see except for him and the quad and trailer.  He knew he could hide himself, but the four-wheeler was still not hidden as well as he would have liked.  However, it should go unnoticed with the camouflage cover.  If these people were moving and looking for threats like they should be, it might be a problem.  But, DJ was sure they would pass right by just like the bicyclist had.

He found a spot where he could watch them as they walked by, but they would not be able to see him.  He lay down with his rifle in front of him.  His heart was beating at an increased pace and he concentrated on his breathing to bring it back down to a normal level.  The walkers were getting closer and he was able to make out some of the words.

“…tired...when…stop…” a distinctly female voice said.  The response by a male voice was too muddled to discern.

“…SUCKS!”

DJ snickered quietly.  After a few more minutes, the travelers came into view of DJ’s hide.  There were four of them, a family by the look of things.  The father was in the lead and he was carrying a huge backpack.  He also had a hunting type shotgun in his hands.  His overlapping belly seemed to almost balance out the backpack.  The wife was behind him.  She was not as fat as the dad, but almost.  She had a large purse draped across one shoulder and a small duffel type bag over the other.  The teenaged daughter followed next, trailed by a pre-teen boy.  The kids both had daypacks, probably the ones they used for their schoolbooks.  They were both in decent shape, especially compared to their parents.  Mom and dad were both sucking wind, but the kids didn’t seem to be too overworked.

“Can we at least stop and rest for a few minutes?” the mom asked.  It was the same whiney voice DJ had heard before.  He held his breath.  He didn’t need them stopping this close to them.

“Look, Linda, we can’t stop every five minutes if we want to make it to your sister’s before we run out of food,” the father said.  “It’ll be dinner time before too long and we’ll take a nice rest then, okay?”

The woman said nothing.

DJ breathed a sigh of relief.  He wondered how far the family was going.  Probably not too far if they expected to make before nightfall at the pace they were going.  As they got even with where he was, he noticed that the girl, while not beautiful, had a cute face and a superb body.

She might be sixteen or seventeen, he thought.  She began to look side to side as if she knew someone was watching her.  DJ realized that he was staring at her and he quickly diverted his eyes.  He had heard that people could feel when they were being watched.  Until now, the family had all been looking forward.  It seemed like too much of a coincidence that the girl would just start looking around.

“Hey, Dad, what’s that?” she asked.

DJ looked with his peripheral vision to see what she was talking about.  She was pointing right at his four-wheeler.

“I don’t know,” the dad answered.   “It looks like stacks of boxes that somebody covered up.  I’ll take a closer look.”  He dropped his pack.  The woman dropped her two bags as well and plopped down on the duffle.

The man was stepping over the track as DJ pulled his rifle into his shoulder.  He didn’t intend to shoot this man, but he had to cover him just in case.  The man was only twenty-five or thirty yards away and his shotgun could make mincemeat out of DJ at that range.  

“Hold it where you are,” DJ barked.  The man froze, his grip on the shotgun tightening.  Slowly he began to turn toward DJ.

“Please don’t move,” DJ said.  “I have rifle on you and I’ll have to use it if you point that shotgun at me.”

“Don’t worry,” the man said nervously, “it’s not loaded.”

What a moron, DJ thought.  He briefly tried to figure if the man was bigger idiot for carrying an empty gun or for telling that it wasn’t loaded.  He couldn’t decide.  Or, maybe the man was lying.  He realized that he had to assume that the gun was loaded no matter what the man said.  He strongly suspected that the man was telling the truth, though.  DJ thought how easy it would be for someone to kill the man, woman, and boy, and take the girl.  Lucky for this guy I’m not like that, he thought.

“Well there’s no way for me to know that for sure, so how about you just set it down.”

The man complied.  His eyes moved back and forth searching for whoever was talking to him.

“The stuff you see is mine and I’d just as soon you didn’t mess with it,” DJ said.

The man’s head turned toward DJ.  His eyes were still looking, but his ears had at least narrowed down the search field.  “I understand.  We’ll just be on our way.”  He started to bend over and reach for his weapon.

“Don’t do that!”

The man stopped at mid bend.  “I can’t leave my gun here.”

“I don’t expect you to.  Let’s just get your daughter to pick it up and carry it until you get out of sight.”

“Whatever you say, Mister.  I don’t want any trouble.”  He backed up to his pack.  “Tammy, go pick up my gun.”

Tammy looked back and forth like her dad was talking to another person and she was trying to figure out who it was.  DJ was amused by the girl’s reaction.  He decided to have some fun.

“Yes, you, Tammy,” he said.  “Walk over to your daddy’s shotgun.”

The girl obeyed.

“Now put your hands up and turn around so I can make sure you don’t have any weapons.”

As the girl did as she was instructed, DJ watched, but not for weapons.  He smiled.  “Even better than I thought,” he said to himself.

“Okay, now pick up the gun and make sure the muzzle is pointed straight up.  You can give it back to your dad once you round the next bend.”

Tammy just nodded her head and continued to follow instructions.  DJ wondered if they would even make it to where they were going.  The way they were traveling, making noise and walking down the middle of the tracks in broad daylight, the odds were not good that they would get too far.  Hopefully, they were close to their destination.  He could help them, but he was already behind schedule and having to slow to walking speed would only throw him further behind.  He couldn’t afford that, especially the way there seemed to be more people using the tracks.  He would just give the man some advice.  

“Listen, buddy, when Tammy gives you the gun back, I would suggest you load that scatter gun and stop making so much noise.  Anybody that wanted to could have killed you before you even knew they were there.  I heard you four or five minutes before you even got here.  If you’re smart, you’ll get off of the tracks and walk in the brush.  Quietly.”

“Okay, mister.  Thanks for the advice.”

DJ watched them walk out of sight.  He wondered if they took his suggestions.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully.  Finally it was time to leave.  DJ packed up what little he needed to and pulled a fuel can off of the trailer to fill up his bike.  It took a little more gas than he had expected, probably because he had slowed down more to go around obstacles than he had expected.  It was all right though.  He had some extra gas for just in case.  He walked up on the tracks and looked both ways to make sure it was clear.  Then, he walked back down and mounted his machine.  Pulling up between the tracks, he was glad to be on his way.

***

Walking down the steps, Gabe looked up at the sun.  He didn’t need a watch to know what time it was.  It was three thirty.  That was another indication that he had really tied one on.  He walked over to the garden.  The weeds were trying once again to take over the fertile ground, but Gabe pulled a hoe out of the shed and fought back the undesirable flora.  The sweat from the heat and the work poured out of his body.   He could smell the toxins he had poisoned himself with over the past weekend in the perspiration.  His muscles protested at the work.  Not because they were unused to the physical demand, but because Gabe’s single meal in three days had already been burned and there was no fuel for them to use.  Gabe pressed on, ignoring his body’s pleadings.    

When the weeding was done, Gabe grabbed a big bucket and started picking the vegetables that had ripened over the weekend.  There was so much that the harvest spilled over into a second and then a third bucket.  He took the bounty into the kitchen and washed the produce, piece by piece.  The tomatoes, most of them softball size, were Gabe’s specialty.  It used to be Hanna’s, but he had inherited them when she had left.  He sold them at the farmers market on Wednesdays.  Well, the woman down the road and her son did.  No one in town would have bought anything from Gabe.  They all hated him.  He was the town drunk, after all.  Just like that Otis fellow on the Andy Griffith show had been.  Only, he didn’t just walk in to the Sheriff’s Office and lock himself up.  The sheriff’s deputies did that.  And more than once, too.  

Gabe began to separate the vegetables into two piles, one to sell and one that he would eat.  He found a tomato that was a little odd shaped.  Although there was nothing really wrong with it, he knew that it wouldn’t sell.  The city slickers that shopped the market wouldn’t buy anything that didn’t have the typical shape or color.  He looked at the odd tomato for a moment and then bit into it as if it were an apple.  The sweet fruit filled his mouth with a flavor that little would match.  If only this could obscure the memories like the bourbon did, he thought.



Chapter 5

DJ was pleased with the progress he was making.  According to his GPS, he had eight more miles to go before he got off of the tracks.  Then it was just a short jaunt down a county road to the power line.  Once he got to the campsite he had intended to arrive at last night, he could make a decision whether to go on or not.

The bridge over the river was the last big obstacle on the tracks before he turned off.  He couldn’t wait to get on a smooth road.  The constant thumping of his tires over the ties was starting to drive him crazy.  It would take some time to cross the bridge, but DJ knew his plan would work.

His quad’s tires were not big enough to span the gap between the ties on the bridge.  That would have made it impossible to cross if he hadn’t done a little pre-planning.  He figured that he could let some air out of his tires on one side and let the wheels run down the track on that edge.  The other side he would use the two by eights that he had stashed next to the bridge.  They were both twelve feet long and he could lay them across the ties.  He would have to leapfrog the boards all the way across the bridge, but with the trains not running, if what Jacob said was true, he would have plenty of time.

DJ had figured long ago that any bridge over the river was a natural choke point.  It not only had the probability of snarling traffic, it was an obvious place for an ambush.  When he was first planning his bug out route, he had figured that the railroad bridges would be much more likely to be open and safe than a bridge built for cars.  In fact, that was how he had come up with using the railroad in the first place.  The only problem was how to cross when there was nothing between the ties.  The idea to use boards had been easy to come up with.  The problem was how to carry them to the bridge.  They would have hung way over the back of the trailer and taken up valuable space.  DJ decided that the best thing to do was to preposition the boards.  That, too, seemed simple enough, but how could he get them there?  He went over many possibilities until he came up with the answer.  He rented a small boat and motor and used the river to get to the bridge.  Once there, it was simply a matter of burying the boards and motoring back to the boat ramp.

The boards were treated and he had carefully wrapped them in heavy plastic and used duct tape to seal them up.  It would only take a few minutes to uncover them and pull them up onto the tracks.  Not much further now, DJ thought.

He rounded the last curve before the bridge and blinked a couple of times to make sure what he saw was really there.  A train sat motionless on the tracks.  DJ squeezed the brakes on his ride and came to a stop well back of the last car, staring at it as if it were a ghost.  Maybe it stopped before it got onto the bridge, he hoped.  But, he knew that unless it was a very short train, that was unlikely.  It looked to be one of the trains that hauled coal to the power plant on the outskirts of town.  He had seen them before and they usually were very long.  Other questions flashed through his mind.  Was it just stopped temporarily?  Why would they stop on the bridge?  Could he get them move it?  If it were abandoned, could he move it himself?  Could he squeeze his four-wheeler past it?  This was a situation that he had never thought of and he just didn’t know the answers.  He would just have to check it out.

He pulled the quad down into some tall weeds and covered it.  Then, taking his rifle with him, he slowly approached the train.  As he got closer, he was able to tell two things.  First, the train was empty.  This made sense because it was headed away from the power plant.  Second, and most importantly, the train did go across the bridge.  DJ’s heart sank, as he knew his carefully planned route had most likely been ruined by this unforeseen event.  

He slowly walked up to the bridge, carefully watching for anyone lurking about.  When he got there, one of his questions was answered.  There was no way to squeeze his quad between the train and the side of the bridge.  He was barely able to fit his body into the limited space.  He walked across, cautiously and deliberately placing his feet in the middle of the ties.  Once across, he walked the considerable distance to the locomotives.  There were five them, sleeping giants that had no regard for his Lilliputian plans.  There seemed to be no one around, so DJ climbed up onto the lead engine.  Once he was up on the platform that led to the driver’s compartment, he could see why the train crew had probably stopped here.  It was the road.  They had most likely stopped and were picked up in a truck.  Ironically, it was the same road he had planned to take.

He opened the door and stepped in.  He turned off his night vision and fished the flashlight out of its pocket on his vest.  Looking over the controls, they seemed rudimentary.  However, unless he could figure out how to hotwire the engine, the lack of a key was a major problem.  He looked around, hoping that a key was hidden somewhere.  He thought about how in the movies the hero always found the keys on top of the visor.  Unfortunately, there was no visor, and this was no movie.  Disappointed, he hiked back to his quad.

Once there, he pulled out his maps and started searching for a way around.  Unfortunately, the last road he had crossed that was more than a goat trail was almost halfway back to where he had started from tonight.  He groaned as he saw how far out of the way he would have to travel going that route.  It looked to be at least an extra twenty or thirty miles, not to mention the forty or so miles he would have to backtrack.  And, who knew if the bridge over the river going that way would be traversable.   He looked for another way, but there were none that were any better.  He figured he had enough extra gas to make it, but barely.

He checked the tank again and saw that it was over half empty.  Going back would use at least another half of a tank.  That was close to five gallons wasted.  He refigured how much he would need to complete his trip and realized that he would be short.  He plopped down sideways on the seat of the quad and put his head in his hands.  For almost fifteen minutes he didn’t move.  Finally, he pulled his head up and shook it.  

“I have to figure out what to do,” he said, making himself think about the problem.

He briefly considered leaving the quad and going the rest of the way on foot.  He had planned for the contingency that the quad might become disabled and had gear in case he had to resort to plan ‘B’.  It would be hard to carry enough food to walk the rest of the way, but he knew he could do it.  However, the quad and the items he would have to leave behind were just too valuable to abandon when there was another alternative.

Perhaps he could find a little more gas.  He looked at the map again.  It wasn’t likely he would find an open gas station on the back roads he had selected.  He could go to a more populated area and try to find a station, but would it even be open or have any gas.  DJ knew that gas would soon be worth its weight in gold.  I should have asked that old coot for a couple of gallons of gas last night, he thought.

He looked at the map again.  Jacob had said that his son didn’t live too far.  Maybe I could find him and trade the hundred dollars for some gas, DJ thought.  That seemed like the best idea.  Even if he didn’t find the old man, maybe some old farmer would sell him some gas.  If he had to, he could even steal some.  He didn’t like that option, but it wasn’t like it would be the first time he had done some petty thieving.  He would just have to do what he had to do.  

DJ climbed back on the quad, feeling a little better about his options.  He pulled back up on the tracks and began the trip back.  Just before dawn, he found a good camping spot not too far from the turn off.  He set up camp, making sure it would be hidden enough in the daylight, and went to sleep.  

***

Gabe wondered why the woman hadn’t shown up.  He paced back and forth from the door to the table where he had all the produce ready to go.  It wasn’t like her to be late.  In fact, he couldn’t remember her ever being late.  If he had a phone, he would have called her.  Maybe her truck broke down, he thought.  Maybe she or her son was sick.  No matter what the reason was, Gabe didn’t like altering his routine.  He decided to get in his truck and go see what the problem was.

The half-ton Chevy groaned as he let out on the clutch.  Gabe turned onto the road when he got to the end of his gravel drive and urged the almost-thirty-year-old truck forward with a slight mash of the accelerator.  The truck was old and plain, but it was in good shape.  Gabe was able to keep it in good repair since it was easy to work on.  It didn’t have all the fancy things a new truck had like power steering or air conditioning, but the straight six engine ran well and didn’t use much gas.  Of course Gabe only went to town once a month for groceries, so gas mileage was really not a factor for him.  Many months he used more gas in his roto-tiller than he did in the truck.

Three and a half miles down the road he came to the mailbox with a chicken painted on the side.  The name painted beside it said J. Walker.  Gabe turned into the woman’s drive and drove up to the house.  The house was small, but was well kept and the small yard in front was well manicured.  Gabe could hear the chickens clucking in back when turned his truck off.  As he opened the truck door, the woman opened the front door.

“What do you want?” she asked.  The look in her eyes held the hatred that Gabe was used to.  It was, however, the first time he could recall seeing it from her.  He was much more comfortable with this look, though.  In fact it was the first time he could remember being comfortable enough to look her in the eyes for more than a second.

“I just came to see why you didn’t come pick up the vegetables.”

The woman ignored Gabe’s answer.  She took a step toward him and lowered her voice.  “Robby told me what you said to him the other day.  If you want to be mean and nasty to everybody else, fine.  But, you don’t ever talk like that to my boy.  You understand?”

Gabe blinked his eyes. He didn’t remember talking to the boy.  Wait, he thought, it seems like someone did come over the other day.  Maybe it had been the boy.  There was no telling what Gabe might have said.  Obviously it must have been pretty bad to make his mother this mad.

“Is that why you aren’t going to the market today?” he said.

Now, the woman looked taken back.  She stared at him for a moment and then the look that Gabe didn’t like started coming back.  “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” he asked, looking down at the grass.

“Don’t you listen to the news?”

“No.”

“You better come in.  Let me fix you a glass of tea.”

“No, that’s alright, I’m fine.  Just tell me.”

“Well to start with, they’re not having the Farmer’s Market this week,” she said.  “To be honest, I don’t know when they’ll have it again.  Things are bad, Mr. Horne.”

He hated the way she said his name.

“The economy has tanked and there are riots in the cities.  The President has declared martial law.  Hopefully things will settle down soon.  That’s what they keep saying on the news, but so far it seems to get be getting worse. They say that the power is off in the city and they don’t know how much longer our power will stay up.”

“What happened?” Gabe said.

“No one seems to know for sure, or they aren’t saying.  Most of the experts say it’s a combination of oil prices and the national debt.  They’re calling it ‘The Smash’.  I’m afraid that it might not be long before some of the rioters come out here.  Supposedly they are causing lots of trouble in the suburbs.”

Gabe stood silent for a minute.  “Well, okay then.”  He turned and stepped back toward his truck.

“Wait, Mr. Horne.”

Gabe’s face scrunched.  “Yes,” he said without turning around.

“Please take some eggs.  I’ve got so many I don’t know what to do with them all.”

“No, thanks.  I’m fine.”

“I insist,” she said.  “You wait right there.”

Gabe heard the screen door slam.  He stepped to the truck and reached for the door handle.  Before he could push the button. He heard the door’s hinges creak.

“Here you go.”

Gabe reached behind the cab of his pickup and grabbed the big bucket of tomatoes.

“You take these.”  He turned and pushed the bucket toward the woman.  She walked to him and they handed each other what each was known best for.

“Thank you, Mr. Horne.”

Gabe grunted.  He turned to open his truck door.  Reaching with his free hand, he pulled it open.  He sensed that the woman was heading back toward her house.

“And tell that boy I’m sorry about the other night.”  He climbed into his truck and tried his best not to see how she was looking at him.  Pulling out of the driveway, he thought about the last time he had said he was sorry.  It was that night, so long ago, when they had left.

Back in his house, he turned on the old hi-fi and put a George Jones album on.  Then he opened the bottle and poured.  It was two days earlier than usual, but he didn’t care.  Now, time held no meaning for the rest of the world either.


Chapter 6


DJ finally gave up trying to sleep and got up.  He had tossed and turned all morning, worried about his fuel situation.  Damned train, he thought.   He filled the quad and then checked to see how much fuel he had left.  With what was now in the quad, he had thirteen gallons left.  Looking at his map he had 280 miles left if he didn’t have to make any more detours.  He had expected to get 20 miles per gallon, but he was actually only getting 17 mpg so far.  Even if he got the mileage back up, it was only enough fuel to go 260 miles.

The good news was that this new route took him right by where Jacob’s son lived.  Hopefully, he could get some fuel from the old man.  DJ figured if he could get five or six gallons, he would have plenty even if he did have to take a few small detours.  Confident in his plan and now more relaxed, he lay back down to get some quality shuteye.

The heat of the afternoon woke him up about four.  He fixed a meal and spent some time reading again.  A group of seven walked by him on the tracks.  They never saw him, and if he had been asleep, he doubted that he would have noticed them.  They moved quietly and were all armed.  Even the kids who looked to be around ten and sixteen had rifles.  The little one only had a .22, but that was a lot better than nothing.  DJ was glad that he had made sure this camp was well camouflaged.  

At dusk, he broke camp and was ready to roll by the time it got dark.  He was only four miles from Route 87.  When he pulled onto the paved highway, the smoothness of the road was an instant reward.  Able to travel at thirty-five miles per hour, DJ felt as if he were flying.  There were quite a few houses along this route.  Several larger places were well back off the road, and many small houses and mobile homes were close to the road.  Most of the houses were dark, but a few had pale lights shining out of the windows.  DJ thought that it was not smart to have any lights showing.  It was an open invitation to troublemakers.  

As he approached the five-mile mark, he slowed a little and started looking for the old Caddy. It seemed like no time before he saw the Kessler place.  It was just an old trailer on a small lot and Jacob’s car was parked in front.  The mailbox was shaped like a fish and said James Kessler.  DJ only noticed the first name because the J in DJ stood for James. He pulled into the dirt drive and stopped his machine.  No lights were showing in the trailer.

“Jacob,” DJ called out, but not too loud, “it’s DJ, the guy that helped you last night.”

No one answered.  He called out again, a little louder this time.  Still, there was no answer.  He dismounted and climbed the rickety wooden stairs up to the front door.  He knocked softly and waited for a response.  None came.  Maybe they are in the back, he thought.  He walked around to the back of the trailer.  There was no one in the back, but he noticed that the back door was open.  He walked up to it and stuck his head in the door.  

“Hello, is anyone home?”

It was as quiet as a tomb.  DJ took a step into the home and, with the aid of his night vision goggles, saw a man slumped over on the couch.  He looked as if he had passed out drunk.  

“Hey!” DJ said as loud as he dared.

The man did not move.  DJ stepped toward the man to try and wake him.  Something wasn’t right, though.  The way the man was laying was not how someone, even someone passed out, would lie down.  DJ turned off his goggles and pushed them up.  He took out his flashlight and turned it on.  The first thing that DJ noticed was that this man looked almost exactly like Jacob.  The only difference was that he was younger and heavier.  However, the second discovery caused DJ to snatch his pistol out of his drop leg holster and to douse the light.  The man had a hole in his chest.  DJ turned his goggles back on and began to clear the house.  He found Jacob behind the counter in the kitchen.  He was lying on the floor in a pool of blood.  DJ knelt down beside him and felt for a pulse.  There was none.

DJ could hear his heart pounding in his ears.  His throat had a burning bile taste as he tried to choke back the urge to hurl.  He focused on his task at hand and was able to keep his food down.  He slowly and carefully cleared the rest of the house.  As he went room to room, he could see that things were missing from the house.  The TV and VCR were gone.  The stand and the loose cable wires, along with dust outlines, gave their former presence away.  Dresser drawers in the bedrooms were opened with clothes that once appeared to be neatly folded now strewn about the room.  As he finished searching the house, he found no one, at least no one who was still alive, was there.

He sat on the bed in the last room he had cleared.  He turned the night vision goggles off and stared into the darkness.  The thoughts of how Jacob had died for nothing but a few material possessions flooded his mind.  He felt a single tear roll down his cheek.  It could have been the first of a torrent, but DJ held his feelings back.  He couldn’t lose it now.  It was too dangerous in here.  The perps that had killed Jacob and his son might come back.  He had to get away from here.

He stood back up and went outside to move his quad around to the back.  There was nothing he could do for Jacob, so he would get the gas he needed and get as far away from here as he could.  The first thing he needed was a siphon hose.  There was a garden hose hooked up to the spigot next to the back porch.  DJ pulled out his knife and cut a six-foot piece off.  He removed the two empty gas cans from his trailer and went around front to the Cadillac.  Opening the gas cap, he stuffed the hose in until he heard a dull thud.  The tank sounded as if it was completely empty, but that didn’t make any sense.  Even if Jacob had barely had enough gas to get here, there still should have been enough gas to cover the bottom of the tank.  DJ put his lips to the siphon hose and blew.  He hoped to hear bubbles, but all he heard was the sound of air rushing through the hose.  He looked under the car with the aid of his flashlight and saw that someone had punched a hole in the tank to drain it.

DJ felt his face screw up with anger.  Not only had these ruffians murdered his friend, they had also endangered him by stealing Jacob’s gas.  He wished that he had been here when they had arrived.  He knew that the story would have ended differently.  Again, he made himself focus on what he needed to do.  He returned to his quad in the back and noticed a small storage shed in the far corner of the property.  He walked to it and opened the door.  Inside were a lawn mower and some other tools.  A lawn mower would mean gas and DJ looked until he found a two-gallon can of the liquid gold.  It was only half full, but that was better than nothing.  He also noticed a chainsaw case sitting on a shelf with a small gas can and some bar oil.  He reached for the case and was happy that it had something in it.  Opening the case he saw that the saw was of good quality.  He closed it back up and decided to take it and the gas and oil for it as well.  He didn’t need it, but Jacob’s son didn’t have a use for it any more either.  He might be able to trade it for some gas.  There was nothing else of interest in the shed so he closed the door and made his way back to his quad.  Strapping down the chainsaw, he wondered if there might be anything else in the house that he might be able to use or that would make good barter items.  He poured the lawn mower gas into one of his cans and threw James’ can under the back porch.  

DJ quickly swept through the house, but it looked as if the killers had done a good job of getting anything of value.  All of the kitchen cabinets were empty as well.  All he found were a couple of cheap pocket knives and a Chinese made multi tool in the kitchen junk drawer.  He stuck them in his pocket.  He looked down at Jacob and wished that he could do something.  It was so undignified the way the old man was sprawled on the floor.  DJ briefly thought about wrapping him and his son in some sheets and putting them on one of the beds.  However, that would take time and get blood all over his clothes.  Besides, that wouldn’t bring them back.  He walked out the door and closed it behind him.

Back on the Polaris, he resumed his new course, wondering where he could get some more gas.  He thought about how senseless Jacob and James’ deaths were and pondered who could have killed them for so little.  He knew that things could get this bad and had often told people such on the Internet forums he frequented.  Many had laughed at him.  He wondered if they were laughing now.  He had always been brutally honest about how he felt things would go and what people would do when the shit finally hit the fan.  Most didn’t like his blunt and brusque approach and he had been banned on many of the sites.  But, they couldn’t say he hadn’t warned them.  He smiled as a small wave of vindication washed over him.


***


Gabe woke up to total darkness.  The blackness surprised him a little.  Even if all the lights in the house were off, some illumination from the security light out front should have filtered through the window blinds.  He got out of chair and felt his way to the kitchen.  He felt the floor change from carpet to vinyl, then he felt the crunch of glass under his shoes.  He wondered what he had broken this time.  He tried to step carefully, not wanting to slip and cut himself on whatever was broken on the floor.  If anyone had been able to see, they might have thought him a high wire artist practicing his craft.  Gabe knew he was drunker than he should be, but not as drunk as he would like to be.  He would have to take care of that.

When he finally reached the back door, he flipped the light switch up, but nothing happened.  The back landing light switch was right next to the one for the kitchen, but it too produced no light when he pushed it up.  He flicked it up and down several times as if that might produce the desired results, but it was in vain.

Cursing at the electricity, he turned and stumbled to the drawer that held his flashlight.  He forcefully rooted around until he found it.  When he pushed the button, the light came on dimly.  He knew he had new batteries and used the little light he had to find them.  Changing them in the dark proved to be more difficult than he had expected.  His motor skills, degraded by the alcohol, were no match for the fine threads and spring tension of the back cap of the flashlight.  He dropped the cap twice and had to feel with his hands to find it.  He cut his hand on the broken glass, but ignored the pain and continued to struggle with his task.  The slippery nature of the blood on his hand added to the difficulty of screwing the cap on, but he finally succeeded.  Hitting the switch again produced a very bright beam that almost illuminated the whole kitchen.  Shining the light on the floor, he saw several broken glasses on the floor.  He kicked a large chunk out of the way and stepped around some others on his way back to his chair.  He set the flashlight on the coffee table so that it pointed at the ceiling.  The beam reflected off of the white surface and bathed the room with just enough light to see.

Gabe poured four fingers worth of whiskey and sat back in his chair.  Tipping his head back, he gulped the whole glass in one motion.  As his head tilted back down, he caught sight of the flashlight.  The way it was balanced on the table reminded him of something.  He and the boy had long ago sat this same light on the kitchen floor in the same way and pretended to be pirates as they swigged apple juice straight from the bottle.  It was one of the good times, well before the alcohol had taken over his life.  Before that uncaring bastard had taken them away from him.  Gabe felt his throat closing and his eyes tearing up as the memories flooded back.  He clumsily grabbed the light and threw it.  He heard a crash as the light went out.  He needed another drink.  He grabbed for the bottle and filled his glass.  That was something he was good at, even drunk and in the dark.

Old school tag for when I get bored at work today.

ETA: I read the first couple of lines and couldn't stop.  Good read, so far.  I look forward to the next chapter.

The master is back!  

Roy

Oh no , more crack for the habit.  Man my boss is going to hate you .

Since you are thinking about publishing, can I give a couple of suggestions to help?  Not criticism, but a better way to draw your readers into the story.

1.  Some of your paragraphs are way too long to be read easily.  For example, the paragraph starting "Next he grabbed a big plastic box..." is 19 sentences in length (I think, might have missed more).  Try to keep them under 6 sentences per paragraph, and if they are lengthy sentences, go to 3 or 4.  That's the first thing a professional editor will notice, and have you correct for resubmission.

2.  Don't be afraid to combine sentences.  Novel readers appreciate somewhat longer sentences, versus shorter sentences (another thing a editor will tell you).  For example, in the same paragraph I referenced above, you wrote, " All that was left was to get his firearms and clothes. He would load those right before he left."  

There were many shorter sentences in this single paragraph, and scattered throughout the chapter.  Rewording it to read something like, "All that was left was to get his clothing and firearms, which he would load right before he left the next morning."  This allows for better flow, and greater impact to the reader.

3.  "Describe" to the reader, so they can envision in their minds.  You do that well in certain areas, but lapse in others.  To draw a reader in, either the first or second reference to something personal should be described to help the reader develop the item in their mind.  For example, you write, "He set the alarm on his expensive wristwatch".  First thing that came to my mind as I read that is what makes this an expensive watch?  

Saying something like "He set the alarm on his gold and platinum Rolex that glistened in the moonlight" brings about a "description" that the reader can envision.  From that point forward, when you talk about his watch, the reader will again envision the particular item as they continue to read.

Not trying to nit-pick, but you did refer to the fact that it may be published.  All-in-all, this is a good start, and I'm looking forward to your future chapters.  I promise not to offer any more criticisms unless you want me to do so, and I'll be glad to make comments private if you want it that way.  This has the makings of an interesting novel!

I worked as a manuscript editor while in college years ago, and the things above jumped to mind.  Just wanted to give you a heads-up, because many agents and publishing houses will send your manuscript back after doing a random inspection of paragraphs throughout the novel.  Many of these people will simply reject, without explaining why.

A great forum for beginning writers, with many tips on writing, publishing, and related topics is located at Absolute Write Forums.  You can learn a lot there, people are willing to help you, and you'll get the motivation to actually publish.  You will learn how to get a single book made for under $20 or even how to get a large publishing company to look at your manuscript.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask.  And again, very good work so far, you have me waiting for the next chapter!

good stuff
flows nicely
and Mastery, the comments are excellent and thanks for the link.

Halfast,

This is a great start to a bug-out from suburbia story-line.  I especially like the fact that he had the ATV set-up to do the bug-out since it would've been more difficult to have used the truck given the extreme congestion on the highways.  You'll probably discuss the "Smash" or crash more in your book, but I would certainly like to understand more about the time-line and events that passed, in order to get DJ Frost to the point where he is bugging out of his residence.

I'm definately looking forward the the next chaperts of Lost And Found!

If I don’t, you will be able to get the rest. Hopefully, you’ll have to buy the paperback.

SF group buy posibility ?

Originally Posted By Hawk_308: If I don’t, you will be able to get the rest. Hopefully, you’ll have to buy the paperback. SF group buy posibility ?

Check out Lulu or Diggory Press for great prices on high quality self-publishing rates    You do  write in a way you should seriously consider publishing  

Damn it...now I have a half a dozen stories to try to keep up with.

Not that I'm complaining

Sweet.

I hate you , I hate you, I hate you!!!!.

I was lucky enough not to find Lights Out until it was over with and now you go and do this to me, GGGGGRRRRRRRRRR.

Good writing, I like it. I am just not too fond of you right now

I am going to review my portfolio and short any stock that may have preparedness minded people employed.

Thanks for all of the replies.  It really motivates me when I see that you all are enjoying the story.  It means more to me than I can express.

Mastery - Thank you so much for taking the time to help me.  Lord knows I need it.  Excellent suggestions all.  Feel free to post any more in the forum.  You won't hurt my feelings.  After 24 years of marriage, I don't have any feelings left!  Besides that, some of the other writers might be able to use them.  Thanks for the links as well.

Thanks again to everyone.

David

I can't believe that I come across this at Chapter 1....why couldn't have missed it until it was nearly done

....I started hearing the music from Escape From New York as he readied the ATV!

Is there a way to post lights out again? I cannot access archived links.

Originally Posted By gitarmac: Is there a way to post lights out again? I cannot access archived links.

www.giltweasel.com/stuff/LightsOut-Current.pdf

Originally Posted By Halffast: Mastery - Thank you so much for taking the time to help me.  Lord knows I need it.  Excellent suggestions all.  Feel free to post any more in the forum.  You won't hurt my feelings.  After 24 years of marriage, I don't have any feelings left!  Besides that, some of the other writers might be able to use them.  Thanks for the links as well.

Glad to help.  Feel free to PM if you have any questions about getting published or writing development, I'm glad to help.  I'll be watching for future chapters, keep up the good work!

woohoo!    More goodness from Halffast!

Just like the good ol' days waiting and waiting for the next chapter of LO.  

Good start so far!  I also enjoyed LO, and the fact that  you had it available as a .pdf file so I could read it on my pda.
thanks

This thread is sooooo tagged.

good stuff man .....
I'm going to let you get a few more chapters out before i read anymore.....

I hope i have to pay to read the end man


Btw i like the sig line

Originally Posted By acman145acp: Btw i like the sig line

And I like yours.

Halffast,
The first chapter was great. I really enjoyed reading it. I was also lucky to find Lights Out after it was already done and read the whole thing in two days. Now I have to wait in between chapters. That kinda' sucks.
Warrrior

I've heard of "Lights Out", but I have dial-up, so whenever I try to open it it doesn't work. I've heard about a short story- "The Bug Out" (short strory is good, maube 56Kers can handle that) but have not been able to find it anywhere. Any help?

Originally Posted By --bullseye--: I've heard of "Lights Out", but I have dial-up, so whenever I try to open it it doesn't work. I've heard about a short story- "The Bug Out" (short strory is good, maube 56Kers can handle that) but have not been able to find it anywhere. Any help?

Try donwloading the file to your computer, rather than trying to open it in your web browser.

Originally Posted By --bullseye--: I've heard of "Lights Out", but I have dial-up, so whenever I try to open it it doesn't work. I've heard about a short story- "The Bug Out" (short strory is good, maube 56Kers can handle that) but have not been able to find it anywhere. Any help?

Try what dmin suggested.  If that doesn't work, here is a sight that has LO in ten chapter blocks.  Maybe it will work for you.
www.mfco.net/surv/fiction/

"The Bug Out" has fallen off of the active topics here, so unless you're a member, you won't be able to search the archives for it. You can still find it at this site, though.
www.thehighroad.org/showthread.php?t=172494

If you need any more help, just let us know.  Enjoy.

David

This will be my second only ever TAG.  

Originally Posted By Halffast: Originally Posted By --bullseye--: I've heard of "Lights Out", but I have dial-up, so whenever I try to open it it doesn't work. I've heard about a short story- "The Bug Out" (short strory is good, maube 56Kers can handle that) but have not been able to find it anywhere. Any help? Try what dmin suggested.  If that doesn't work, here is a sight that has LO in ten chapter blocks.  Maybe it will work for you. www.mfco.net/surv/fiction/ "The Bug Out" has fallen off of the active topics here, so unless you're a member, you won't be able to search the archives for it. You can still find it at this site, though. www.thehighroad.org/showthread.php?t=172494 If you need any more help, just let us know.  Enjoy. David

Thanks for your help. I already had downloaded it. Turns out my computer was on the fritz, and both Firefox and Adobe wouldn't let me open it. I restrarted the comp and it opened fine then.

That being said I'm now 400 pages in to "Lights Out". (Holy Crap I need to get a life!). It is excellent. Keep up the good work.

Originally Posted By Halffast: "The Bug Out" has fallen off of the active topics here, so unless you're a member, you won't be able to search the archives for it. You can still find it at this site, though. www.thehighroad.org/showthread.php?t=172494 David

Whoa, somehow I'd totally missed "The Bug Out".  

You're off to a good start.  I can't wait to see where you go with it.  

Thanks for the links Mastery.  I'll be checking those out.

yet another great story to be hooked on.  thanks for writing and posting it.

Will old drunks and tactical purses be included? ILMAO

Thanks halffast, lightsout was a great motivator for me, it helped me get off my ass and start preping - I very much enjoyed it. Growing up in SA really brought it to life for me.

Yeah, it kinda creeped me out when Lights Out kept mentioning places I saw on an almost daily basis.

I am gettin antsy in my pantsy for a new chapter.  Halffast stories rule

(btt)

Originally Posted By DFARM: I am gettin antsy in my pantsy for a new chapter.  Halffast stories rule (btt)

It has been two weeks . . .

btt

Halffast I always love reading your work.  

Thanks

Going once...

Going twice....

Going three times.....Tagged !

thanks for another chapter. Now, we need # 3.

good chapter, i have one minor bit of CC
it's not a bike, it's a quad, some times you refer to it as a bike, sometimes as a quad.
it's not a bike.
should be quad, ATV, vehicle, something.
but i love it nonetheless

tag

Halffast, this is GREAT keep up the good work!

Great 2nd chapter!  Keep it coming!

Originally Posted By FNFalGuy: Great 2nd chapter!  Keep it coming!

Please

Sir, give me more.
I finished "Lights Out" Give me more!
I was glued to the screen for about a week when I was not working.
Your style reminds me of a modern Louis L' L'Amour.
Your story made me look at the things I have done.
When a Author can do that you have done your job.
I just wish that the major media would pay attention to your novel.
Then maybe we can get people (sheeple) to think.
Again I say thank you. Give me more of your writing in a book that I buy at wally world.
Then maybe we can get  people to wake up.
My wife has asked me why did I put a 5000 gal. gold fish pond, and place barrels at the down spouts.
You are are aforeward thinker.
Again I must say thank you.

Lights out was one of the best things I have ever read!!! I was glued to the monitor until I was finished, and then I went to sleep and had dreams! I would have like to have printed it out but it's too much paper to steal from work and my printer is on the blink. You should have some copies made to sell, I would purchase some for friends!

I was thinking of publish on demand if you ever felt like releasing some stories this way I'd buy a copy or two, just a thought.