7:15 A.M. Kevin rushed inside to tell Josey and I that he saw it again. And this time, there is a contrail... I ran out to the clearing with my binoculars, but all I could see, once again, was a silvery glint high in the sky. But this time it was followed by a contrail, so we are now certain that it is an aircraft of some sort. Who's aircraft, and what they are doing are the burning questions.
We thought it best to keep to the side roads, and under trees as much as possible. It may be in vain, but it seems like the prudent thing to do. So now we unhitch the trailer and say good-bye to it's comfort. We must go into "stealth mode".
12:00 P.M. We saw it again, on it's apparent return. All three of us. I felt sort of silly afterward, but I quickly swerved off the road and under the cover of some trees. We watched it arch across the sky and disappear behind a mountain peak to the west. Noting the time, there doesn't appear to be any regularity to these flights. Which is something I could have wished for. All we can do is press on I guess, though I wonder if we shouldn't turn west to find where this airplane comes from. Of course, we may not like what we find... But not knowing is beginning to gnaw at me. For the time being though, it will be regarded as "unfriendly".
6:30 P.M. We've stopped for the evening along the Susquehanna's west bank. Kevin insisted on doing some fishing (he's been craving fresh fish for a while now), so off he went, and I stayed behind to set up camp. Josey, bless her heart, insisted on setting up her "kitchen" herself. She's coming along well, but her wound still pains her. Though she does her best not to show it; she occasionally lets a wince come across her face, or lets out a muffled "ooh" when we hit a good bump. Ever the trooper, she doesn't complain, and she refuses pain medication. Says it makes her too sleepy.
She insisted on helping me bring things down from the truck bed. I climbed up into it, and passed things to her from the tailgate. Balancing perfectly on her one leg, she received them and put them down on the ground. I set up the collapsible table we found at the surplus store. While I was doing that, Josey proceeded to cut a length of nylon cord, run it through the carry handle of the camp stove, put it around her neck, and carry it over on her crutches. I was simply struck with admiration for her. I guess I was smiling at her, because she stopped, smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and said "It works". I laughed and said it sure does.
Kevin came back with a pair of plump catfish which he then skinned and filleted, while Josey searched among the spices we have for the perfect ones to season the fish. A pasta and broccoli side dish from a pouch rounded out the wonderful meal. Kevin was right, some fresh fish was in order.
11:00 P.M. I'm sitting here by the light of a shaded oil lamp, sipping on some whiskey. About an hour ago, just before Josey turned in for the night (Kevin was already asleep, as he volunteered to stand watch after midnight), she came over to me and wrapped me in an embrace. With tears in her eyes, she thanked me for what I had done, and said she couldn't stand the thought of Kevin losing her after losing his father to the disease. I held her as she cried, and told her it was more her own will that pulled her through than anything I had done.
Something happened to me just then. Maybe it was the weight of our situation, or my own Captain Ahab like drive which kept me from recognizing it, but I suddenly felt something inside of me. For the first time, I noticed Josey's beauty. Maybe I was still clinging to the memory of my Jenny. Though it's only been a little over three months, it seems like a lifetime has passed since everything went to hell. I miss Jenny dearly, but to be honest, she seems like someone from another lifetime now.
Tonight, for the first time, I saw Josey not as someone who I'm simply trying to survive with. Tonight, I saw Josey. A beautiful woman. She is about five foot three, with shoulder length wavy brown hair that is invariably tied in a pony tail protruding from the back of her ball cap, which I've never seen her without by day. The most beautiful pair of dark brown eyes I have ever seen straddle a small, slightly turned up nose. Crow's feet emanate from the corners of her eyes, but I find them complimentary. Full lips are surrounded by a lovely squared jaw, and her teeth are straight and bright, except for one indented incisor on bottom right. She has a voluptuous, most feminine hourglass figure which can't be hidden by the surplus camouflage we now wear, nor is it diminished in any way by the loss of her left leg.
Even on crutches, she carries herself with a pride and grace unequaled in any woman I've ever known. And what a damned fool I've been for not noticing before now. Better late than never, I have a new appreciation for her. And maybe something more.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Out On A Limb
“Why did you slow down for us?” Jack asked.
“We want to know who you are.”
“We're nobody” Jack replied. “Literally. We're.... former Americans. Just looking for someplace safe.”
“Ah.” the shadow said. “We're in same boat, ha ha! Men without country. Good. Good! You are armed, no? Sail with us to Saint Martin. We help each other. Is safer, no? We have no weapons, and your boat is very small. We go together.”
“What about the other ship.” Willie stated more than asked.
“Oh, same thing.” the dark figure answered. “They have eight men left. No weapons there too. They go ahead, to scout. I talk to them on radio before you come alongside. They will wait for us now, so we go together.”
“Explain to me why I should trust you” Willie said. “You're mutineers, not exactly trustworthy if you ask me.”
“We are like you.” the shadow said. “The officers, and some crew, they want to return to home countries. Many different countries, these crew. I am from Ukraine. Vasiliy is my name. I, and many others did not want to go home. The others, they try to force us. So we mutiny. Most go into lifeboats, some get killed. A few heroes, they pretend to mutiny, then try to take ship back. I think all have been stopped, but no way to be sure. So now we are six, when used to be sixteen.”
Jack looked at Willie in the dim moonlight, trying to catch some sign of what he might be thinking, but his stoney expression yielded no clue.
“Calculating” Jack said under his breath, but not quite low enough to go unheard.
Willie shot him a sideways glance, and just barely nodded his head, once. His gaze quickly turned back to the figure at the ship's rail. Then he turned to Jack, and said “It's your call captain.”
“What do you make of him?” Jack asked in a low voice.
“I wouldn't trust him any farther than I could throw him. But I don't think he has any ill intent. He's got nothing to gain.”
“I guess it couldn't hurt then. Hell, we're going to the same place anyway.”
Willie turned back to the shadowy figure. “Vasiliy, we will sail with you to Saint Martin. Under two conditions... One, you lead. We will follow on the windward side. If you so much as flinch, we're outta here. Two, no more radio. I want complete radio silence. Agreed?”
“Good. Good! Yes, agreed! Is much safer, you know? How you say, the more the merrier, no?”
“It can help. My name's Willie, and this is Jack. Let's get going, shall we?”
“Yes! We go!”
Vasiliy vanished behind the bulkhead once more as Jack eased First Watch just behind, and to windward of the ship. A few moments later, several figures appeared on the ship's deck, and Vasiliy's voice could be heard barking orders. They climbed into the rigging and began to set sails. Willie watched them with hawk-like intensity, his left hand resting on the rifle that lay on the cabin roof beside him.
An hour passed before the ship carried enough sail to make eight knots in the dropping breeze, and Jack was relieved to finally shake out the reef in his sail. The ship's crew descended the rat lines, then disappeared below deck. Willie's eyes had been locked on them for the duration, and his hand never left the rifle's stock. Now he relaxed a bit, though he still made it a point to scan the ship's deck every few seconds.
Rubbing her eyes, Linda appeared in the companionway.
“What's up? I felt the change in the boat's motion.” she said.
And then, blurry eyes cleared, she saw the ship next to them.
“What the hell?”
“We've got some new travel companions.” Jack said. “They're headed to Saint Martin.”
“Alright then! You boys need some coffee or something?”
“That would be nice.” said Jack. “It's been a long night, and it ain't over yet.”
Saturday, July 9, 2011
May 21, 2012
7:30 A.M. We were just about to get moving when something caught my eye. A flash of light in the sky, like sunlight reflecting off of glass or polished metal. I jumped out of the truck and ran to the trailer for my binoculars, but by the time I got them the flash was gone. Kevin saw it too, so I know I wasn't seeing things. It was at a very high altitude. There was no contrail. Looks like we'll have to keep watch on the sky as we travel...
1:00 P.M. The roads are becoming more congested as we travel further north. Twice this morning we had to detour around stretches that were completely impassable. I'm really glad we found this truck, it looks like we'll be needing it. The Scout would never have made it through some of the paths we took. That massive front bumper has come in very handy for shoving cars out of the way. We're coming up on another river crossing, the Susquehanna. Looking at the map, I think it would be wise to jog east a bit, and avoid Harrisburg. The bridges there are probably a mess.
2:45 P.M. We saw it again, all three of us. Very high up, sunlight reflecting off of glass or metal. Binoculars did nothing more than magnify the light, couldn't make out what the thing was. I think it must be a military aircraft, something they had hidden away somewhere safe from the solar flare that fried everything. Tucked away in some hangar under a mountain or something. We need to alter our strategy...
5:30 P.M. We parked the truck in a dense stand of trees near... whatever town this is, didn't bother to notice. What we did notice was a large military surplus store. We all got camo and several pair of boots. One of those camouflage nets, big enough to cover the truck. Some tools and knives. An army tent, and cots. As nice as the trailer is to have, it is now a liability. So is a fire engine red truck. The several gallons of olive drab paint we found will remedy that situation.
We're spending one last night here in the trailer as we transfer gear and supplies into the truck. No more open fires, we'll have to cook on the camp stove.
It's one thing to be on watch for someone on the ground, which we have been, but aircraft are an entirely different thing. Depending on what sort of electronic wizardry they have aboard, there may be no hiding from them. We're in a whole new ball game.
10:30 P.M. Been watching the sky, and the surrounding mountains since we finished painting the truck under the camo netting. None of us has seen anything, but we're all on edge. Kevin even painted Josey's aluminum crutches olive drab, for fear they might reflect sunlight and give us away, like the aircraft. Good thinking on his part...
While watching the sky I also pondered over what that airplane might be doing up there. Are they looking for people? What will they do if they find us? Will we wind up in another prison, like the one I escaped from? Maybe the biggest question: how many of them are there? And where are they? I won't be getting much sleep tonight.
1:00 P.M. The roads are becoming more congested as we travel further north. Twice this morning we had to detour around stretches that were completely impassable. I'm really glad we found this truck, it looks like we'll be needing it. The Scout would never have made it through some of the paths we took. That massive front bumper has come in very handy for shoving cars out of the way. We're coming up on another river crossing, the Susquehanna. Looking at the map, I think it would be wise to jog east a bit, and avoid Harrisburg. The bridges there are probably a mess.
2:45 P.M. We saw it again, all three of us. Very high up, sunlight reflecting off of glass or metal. Binoculars did nothing more than magnify the light, couldn't make out what the thing was. I think it must be a military aircraft, something they had hidden away somewhere safe from the solar flare that fried everything. Tucked away in some hangar under a mountain or something. We need to alter our strategy...
5:30 P.M. We parked the truck in a dense stand of trees near... whatever town this is, didn't bother to notice. What we did notice was a large military surplus store. We all got camo and several pair of boots. One of those camouflage nets, big enough to cover the truck. Some tools and knives. An army tent, and cots. As nice as the trailer is to have, it is now a liability. So is a fire engine red truck. The several gallons of olive drab paint we found will remedy that situation.
We're spending one last night here in the trailer as we transfer gear and supplies into the truck. No more open fires, we'll have to cook on the camp stove.
It's one thing to be on watch for someone on the ground, which we have been, but aircraft are an entirely different thing. Depending on what sort of electronic wizardry they have aboard, there may be no hiding from them. We're in a whole new ball game.
10:30 P.M. Been watching the sky, and the surrounding mountains since we finished painting the truck under the camo netting. None of us has seen anything, but we're all on edge. Kevin even painted Josey's aluminum crutches olive drab, for fear they might reflect sunlight and give us away, like the aircraft. Good thinking on his part...
While watching the sky I also pondered over what that airplane might be doing up there. Are they looking for people? What will they do if they find us? Will we wind up in another prison, like the one I escaped from? Maybe the biggest question: how many of them are there? And where are they? I won't be getting much sleep tonight.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
May 20, 2012
9:00 P.M. What a day. We spent nearly six hours trying to clear the bridge over the river. For some reason, bridges always seem to hold the worst traffic congestion. The winch on the front of our deuce and a half got a real workout today...
After moving about a half dozen cars and trucks, we had an eighteen wheeler strung out across both lanes. I released the trailer from the hitch and dragged it off to the side of the road. Then I just pushed the tractor with our truck, and finally had a clear path across the bridge.
After all that, we pulled in to a parking area near the base of the bridge, right along the river, to camp for the night. I helped Josey down from the cab and we headed for the camper. Once inside, she insisted on making dinner. I told her she should sit down, but she would have none of it. That woman has the fire in her belly, that's for sure.
While she went about making dinner, Kevin and I took a little stroll by the river. One striking thing we noticed is just how quickly mother nature is reclaiming the landscape. Vines are growing up the bridge columns. Nearby buildings are almost completely hidden by vegetation. Even the highway itself is becoming overgrown as plants take root in the cracks, and the shoulders slowly disappear under the overgrowth. Low hanging tree limbs are starting to be a problem, especially on the side roads.
We saw a few deer drinking from the river nearby, but we left them be. There is still plenty of beef left in the freezer for us, and not enough room to put up more meat. Some fish would be nice, but we have no poles or tackle. Something to keep an eye out for as we travel I suppose.
Josey whipped up a wonderful meal. She baked a loaf of bread, and a delicious beef stew. The bread was so good. Something none of us have had in a long, long time. After we ate, we went outside and built a fire. There was a few cold beers in the refrigerator, so we each had one. It almost felt like we were simply out on a camping excursion, and for the first time in a long while, we actually enjoyed ourselves. What a welcome treat. After all the hell we've been through, it's about time we had some enjoyment out of life. I hope we get more...
After moving about a half dozen cars and trucks, we had an eighteen wheeler strung out across both lanes. I released the trailer from the hitch and dragged it off to the side of the road. Then I just pushed the tractor with our truck, and finally had a clear path across the bridge.
After all that, we pulled in to a parking area near the base of the bridge, right along the river, to camp for the night. I helped Josey down from the cab and we headed for the camper. Once inside, she insisted on making dinner. I told her she should sit down, but she would have none of it. That woman has the fire in her belly, that's for sure.
While she went about making dinner, Kevin and I took a little stroll by the river. One striking thing we noticed is just how quickly mother nature is reclaiming the landscape. Vines are growing up the bridge columns. Nearby buildings are almost completely hidden by vegetation. Even the highway itself is becoming overgrown as plants take root in the cracks, and the shoulders slowly disappear under the overgrowth. Low hanging tree limbs are starting to be a problem, especially on the side roads.
We saw a few deer drinking from the river nearby, but we left them be. There is still plenty of beef left in the freezer for us, and not enough room to put up more meat. Some fish would be nice, but we have no poles or tackle. Something to keep an eye out for as we travel I suppose.
Josey whipped up a wonderful meal. She baked a loaf of bread, and a delicious beef stew. The bread was so good. Something none of us have had in a long, long time. After we ate, we went outside and built a fire. There was a few cold beers in the refrigerator, so we each had one. It almost felt like we were simply out on a camping excursion, and for the first time in a long while, we actually enjoyed ourselves. What a welcome treat. After all the hell we've been through, it's about time we had some enjoyment out of life. I hope we get more...
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Ghost Ship
Hours rolled by, with First Watch loping along at six knots, barely heeled as she glided through the moderate swell. The two specks remained at what appeared to be the same distance off the port bow, their course and speed nearly identical.
Willie emerged from the cabin and reported that Peggy was doing much better now, then offered to take the helm. Jack handed it over and went below, where he found Linda checking in on Peggy as she slept in the aft berth. He then went forward to the master cabin and sprawled out on the bunk. He watched intently as Linda came in as well, quietly closing the door behind her...
Jack woke with a start, caused by an insistent knocking on the cabin door. He rummaged through the tangle of sheets and clothes lying on the cabin sole, in search of his shorts and T-shirt. Still fumbling to get his arm through a sleeve, he ensured Linda was covered up, then opened the door.
“Jack, you need to come look at this” Willie said, then made for the companionway.
On deck, Jack was bewildered by what he saw. One of the sailing ships had reduced sail to bare steerage, and was now less than a mile away. He scanned for the other ship, but it couldn't be seen in the fading light of dusk.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think we should break out the rifles” Willie replied. “And stage them where they'll be handy if needed. But no cause for alarm just yet. These guys are taking great care not to do anything provocative. Slow and easy is their M.O. so far. But I'd be ready for anything just the same.”
Slowly the two vessels inched closer to one another as twilight faded into night. A sliver of a moon was already in the sky as the sunlight retreated, and countless stars took it's place. The few scraps of sail worn by the square rigger presented an eerie grayish hue in the dim glow, and the black silhouette of the hull and masts gave an almost ghostly quality to it. Linda must have thought so as well, Jack mused, for she came up on deck, giving a visible shudder when her eyes fell upon the scene.
With a quarter mile now lying between the vessels, Jack suddenly recalled something from a novel he'd read, specifically about a naval battle between tall ships. The main character, an English frigate's captain, was locked in a dance of strategic maneuvering with an enemy vessel. His goal was to gain the “weather gauge”, or in other words, to position himself upwind of his adversary, which would give him the distinct advantage of being able to run downwind to attack versus beating upwind. And also left the option of speeding away open, should he find himself out-gunned.
Their current course would put them under the square rigger's lee, stealing the wind from First Watch's sails and leaving them dead in the water. Jack relayed all this to Willie, who then agreed they should very slowly alter their course to cross the ship's stern to windward. This they did, very slowly, very cautiously. About one hundred yards from the sailing ship, they had gained the weather gauge. Jack reduced sail to the second reef, which set First Watch's pace to just slightly faster than the ship. Willie studied the vessel through his binoculars as they crossed her wake, slowly scanning from stern to bow in the dim moonlight.
“Not a soul on deck” he said as he lowered the binoculars. “No guns, as far as I can tell. Looks to me like a cruise ship. Lots of deck chairs, and what looks like a bar about mid-ship. There, under that canvas shade.” he said, pointing just aft of the main mast.
Jack eased the helm to starboard, to bring them alongside the ghostly ship. When they were twenty yards off her port beam, they heard a voice shout from across the water.
“Ahoy there” the voice said, in a very thick, very drunk accent that Jack couldn't quite place.
“Ahoy” Jack replied. “We mean no harm.”
“That's good” the voice answered back. “We have no weapons.”
To Jack, the voice was beginning to sound eastern European now, possibly Russian.
“Where are you headed?” Jack inquired.
A shadowy figure appeared at the ship's rail, having stepped out from behind the high bulwark which shielded a door leading into the ship's interior.
“Saint Martin, we think” said the shadowy figure, the voice's owner. “Depends on crew not killing each other. Much fighting here. How you say.... Mutiny? Only six left now.”
Jack looked at Willie, trying to gain a sense of what he might be thinking. But Willie just stood there, stone faced, listening.
Monday, June 13, 2011
May 19, 2012
Thank you Alan for your subscription!
10:45 P.M. It was a long, hard day... We got rolling around 8 A.M., and were moving along well enough through the scattered dead vehicles. The scenery here near the Shenandoah park is breathtaking. And the terrain is hell on the old Scout. Twice she over-heated on us during a long uphill pull. Which required us to stop and let the engine cool while Kevin or I trudged off looking for water or anti-freeze. It wasn't too hard to find, we both wound up simply draining it from one of the many derelict vehicles along the road into a couple gallon plastic jugs. But that wasn't the worst of it.
The worst came when the rear universal joint decided that it had enough. On the downhill run, of course. Thank God that Scout has disc brakes on the front, if they were drums we'd be dead. With no engine braking, and the weight of the trailer and all our gear pushing on us, it was all those brakes could do to keep us from flying off the road, or worse, smashing into a vehicle. When we finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, the rear brakes were smoking, and the front discs had turned blue-ish black. No doubt they were glowing cherry red as we came down that hill.
After catching our breath, and some discussion, the three of us decided that it might be best if we find another vehicle. So I dropped the trailer, gave a look under the Scout to make sure nothing critical had been damaged when the drive shaft made it's hasty exit, put it in four wheel drive, and off we went.
Several hours later we'd found our new ride. And what a ride it is! At a small volunteer fire department in Harper's Ferry, we found an old Army deuce-and-a-half which had been converted into a tanker truck. After about an hour we had the pump and tank removed (threw some fire hoses around the tank, tied to a phone pole, and drove the truck out from underneath!). We scavenged a good, heavy tarp from the fire department, and some PVC pipe from a local hardware store to make a cover for the bed. Fortunately someone had already rigged up a 2 inch hitch receiver on this beast, so then it was back to the highway to pick up the trailer.
The truck rides like a buck board. It's noisy. And it spews black smoke when the throttle is open. But I have no doubt that it will get us wherever we want to go. Plus, I find that our fuel options are much wider now. The book I found under the driver seat says it will burn diesel, kerosene, jet fuel, fuel oil, or gasoline with one quart engine oil per 15 gallons added. I'm sure all the gasoline left is probably bad by now, but I know there's plenty of fuel oil as we head further north.
10:45 P.M. It was a long, hard day... We got rolling around 8 A.M., and were moving along well enough through the scattered dead vehicles. The scenery here near the Shenandoah park is breathtaking. And the terrain is hell on the old Scout. Twice she over-heated on us during a long uphill pull. Which required us to stop and let the engine cool while Kevin or I trudged off looking for water or anti-freeze. It wasn't too hard to find, we both wound up simply draining it from one of the many derelict vehicles along the road into a couple gallon plastic jugs. But that wasn't the worst of it.
The worst came when the rear universal joint decided that it had enough. On the downhill run, of course. Thank God that Scout has disc brakes on the front, if they were drums we'd be dead. With no engine braking, and the weight of the trailer and all our gear pushing on us, it was all those brakes could do to keep us from flying off the road, or worse, smashing into a vehicle. When we finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, the rear brakes were smoking, and the front discs had turned blue-ish black. No doubt they were glowing cherry red as we came down that hill.
After catching our breath, and some discussion, the three of us decided that it might be best if we find another vehicle. So I dropped the trailer, gave a look under the Scout to make sure nothing critical had been damaged when the drive shaft made it's hasty exit, put it in four wheel drive, and off we went.
Several hours later we'd found our new ride. And what a ride it is! At a small volunteer fire department in Harper's Ferry, we found an old Army deuce-and-a-half which had been converted into a tanker truck. After about an hour we had the pump and tank removed (threw some fire hoses around the tank, tied to a phone pole, and drove the truck out from underneath!). We scavenged a good, heavy tarp from the fire department, and some PVC pipe from a local hardware store to make a cover for the bed. Fortunately someone had already rigged up a 2 inch hitch receiver on this beast, so then it was back to the highway to pick up the trailer.
The truck rides like a buck board. It's noisy. And it spews black smoke when the throttle is open. But I have no doubt that it will get us wherever we want to go. Plus, I find that our fuel options are much wider now. The book I found under the driver seat says it will burn diesel, kerosene, jet fuel, fuel oil, or gasoline with one quart engine oil per 15 gallons added. I'm sure all the gasoline left is probably bad by now, but I know there's plenty of fuel oil as we head further north.
Friday, June 3, 2011
May 18, 2012
Thank you Edna for your subscription!
12:30 P.M. We got moving this morning. Kevin and I got Josey up and about on crutches, which she mastered pretty quickly. After a good breakfast of veal steaks and powdered egg omelettes with canned peppers and dried onions, we helped her into the Scout. It felt good to be moving again.
I took it easy while traveling, so as not to cause her any more pain than she is already dealing with. She did wince a couple times on some hard bumps, but she never complained. At 11:30 I stopped, to give her a break and to make lunch. Kevin the "chef" sliced up more veal from the refrigerator and browned it, along with more peppers and onions, plus some canned veggies. A kind of "survival stir-fry", which was delicious.
We've decided to rest a while, even though Josey claimed she is "just fine" and ready to roll. Bless that woman, she's tough as nails...
5:45 P.M. We didn't cover a lot of ground today, but we did at least make some progress. I stopped at 4 P.M. so that we'd have plenty of time to prepare a good meal, because that's what Josey needs right now. She needs it to heal and regain her strength. Though she puts on a good show, Kevin and I know she's still pretty weak. Which is to be expected, given the horrific ordeal she's gone through.
I changed the dressing on her wound, which is looking pretty good, thank God. The redness is fading, the swelling has gone down, and the oozing has nearly stopped. Soon I'll be able to remove the stitches, and hopefully I'll be able to fashion some sort of peg leg for her. With a little luck, she'll be standing tall again. I hope so.
Kevin got a nice fire going, and we're going to roast a large piece of veal for supper. We stopped at a small roadside restaurant for the night, and found a treasure trove of canned goodies which had not been pillaged when things went to hell. The remoteness of this former roadside greasy spoon kept it intact, for the most part. It was broken into, but not much was taken. Must have been a small group that came across it before they were taken by the disease.
We scored some spices, BBQ sauce, canned beans, peppers, olive oil, salt, and black pepper corns and grinders. The biggest find though was flour, baking soda, and sugar in sealed buckets. We haven't had bread at all since we found each other, but now we have the makings of it. This will be a special treat for us...
10:00 P.M. Our bellies are full. And we even had a little beer from a case I found in the restaurant's store room. The rest I packed into the trailer's storage area, save for three which I put in the 'fridge for later.
Josey is sound asleep after I gave her another round of morphine and antibiotic. Kevin and I are enjoying a couple cigars from the humidor we found in the restaurant owner's office. There's still a nice fire burning, and things are looking up for us right now. There's a delivery truck out back with a fair amount of diesel which we'll utilize to top off our fuel tank before we leave tomorrow.
On fuel: I've been thinking about that a lot lately. Soon most of what we find will have gone bad. What then? I know we can burn cooking oil and such, which should keep much longer, being in sealed containers. And we've found plenty of it in stores that have been stripped of everything else. But I wonder what might happen if we get caught somewhere that's not got a supply of it. As we approach the northeast, there's more stores and such, but there's also more vehicles piled up on the roads. Which makes the going slower, and consumes more fuel. Soon, I think, we'll run into sections of highway that are completely impassible. Totally blocked by derelicts that died when the CME fried their electronic brains. Unfortunately, many drivers coasted to the shoulders when their vehicles died, leaving vast stretches near the cities impassible. Though I've avoided major cities as much as possible, the further north we press the more cities we'll encounter.
I don't know why I'm drawn northward, but it just seems right. Maybe the disease can't proliferate in a colder climate. Maybe there's more survivors up there. I don't know for sure. But I do know that I am driven from deep inside to continue north along the east coast. Straight into the heart of the most dense population. Or former population. Which will make for difficult travel at best. At worst, well I hesitate to think about that.
12:30 P.M. We got moving this morning. Kevin and I got Josey up and about on crutches, which she mastered pretty quickly. After a good breakfast of veal steaks and powdered egg omelettes with canned peppers and dried onions, we helped her into the Scout. It felt good to be moving again.
I took it easy while traveling, so as not to cause her any more pain than she is already dealing with. She did wince a couple times on some hard bumps, but she never complained. At 11:30 I stopped, to give her a break and to make lunch. Kevin the "chef" sliced up more veal from the refrigerator and browned it, along with more peppers and onions, plus some canned veggies. A kind of "survival stir-fry", which was delicious.
We've decided to rest a while, even though Josey claimed she is "just fine" and ready to roll. Bless that woman, she's tough as nails...
5:45 P.M. We didn't cover a lot of ground today, but we did at least make some progress. I stopped at 4 P.M. so that we'd have plenty of time to prepare a good meal, because that's what Josey needs right now. She needs it to heal and regain her strength. Though she puts on a good show, Kevin and I know she's still pretty weak. Which is to be expected, given the horrific ordeal she's gone through.
I changed the dressing on her wound, which is looking pretty good, thank God. The redness is fading, the swelling has gone down, and the oozing has nearly stopped. Soon I'll be able to remove the stitches, and hopefully I'll be able to fashion some sort of peg leg for her. With a little luck, she'll be standing tall again. I hope so.
Kevin got a nice fire going, and we're going to roast a large piece of veal for supper. We stopped at a small roadside restaurant for the night, and found a treasure trove of canned goodies which had not been pillaged when things went to hell. The remoteness of this former roadside greasy spoon kept it intact, for the most part. It was broken into, but not much was taken. Must have been a small group that came across it before they were taken by the disease.
We scored some spices, BBQ sauce, canned beans, peppers, olive oil, salt, and black pepper corns and grinders. The biggest find though was flour, baking soda, and sugar in sealed buckets. We haven't had bread at all since we found each other, but now we have the makings of it. This will be a special treat for us...
10:00 P.M. Our bellies are full. And we even had a little beer from a case I found in the restaurant's store room. The rest I packed into the trailer's storage area, save for three which I put in the 'fridge for later.
Josey is sound asleep after I gave her another round of morphine and antibiotic. Kevin and I are enjoying a couple cigars from the humidor we found in the restaurant owner's office. There's still a nice fire burning, and things are looking up for us right now. There's a delivery truck out back with a fair amount of diesel which we'll utilize to top off our fuel tank before we leave tomorrow.
On fuel: I've been thinking about that a lot lately. Soon most of what we find will have gone bad. What then? I know we can burn cooking oil and such, which should keep much longer, being in sealed containers. And we've found plenty of it in stores that have been stripped of everything else. But I wonder what might happen if we get caught somewhere that's not got a supply of it. As we approach the northeast, there's more stores and such, but there's also more vehicles piled up on the roads. Which makes the going slower, and consumes more fuel. Soon, I think, we'll run into sections of highway that are completely impassible. Totally blocked by derelicts that died when the CME fried their electronic brains. Unfortunately, many drivers coasted to the shoulders when their vehicles died, leaving vast stretches near the cities impassible. Though I've avoided major cities as much as possible, the further north we press the more cities we'll encounter.
I don't know why I'm drawn northward, but it just seems right. Maybe the disease can't proliferate in a colder climate. Maybe there's more survivors up there. I don't know for sure. But I do know that I am driven from deep inside to continue north along the east coast. Straight into the heart of the most dense population. Or former population. Which will make for difficult travel at best. At worst, well I hesitate to think about that.
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