Survival Rules Series (Book 1): Rules of Survival Page 6

  “This morning when you were out.”

  “And he didn’t think to ask?”

  She shrugged. “You know him.”

  “Yeah, all too well.” He glanced at his left hand and looked at the number three between his thumb and finger. He remembered the day he got the tattoo. It was on his tenth birthday. What it meant was only known to them but served as reminder, that was its purpose. He recalled the school phoning his parents to ask why both of their sons had tattoos on their hands. His father’s response was clear. It was none of their business and perfectly legal in Montana with the parents’ consent. For whatever reason the school didn’t buy it. Child services were called and showed up at their home wanting to check on their welfare. The whole thing was made to be something much more than it was. Anyway, that was the last day they were a part of a public school. He yanked them out and homeschooled from then on. Never once did his father ask whether they wanted to leave. Nor did he consider the friendships they would lose because of it. The whole event was embarrassing, and their mother never said anything. She stood by his decision until the day she died.

  Yeah, his relationship with his father had been a turbulent one, as had Tyler’s. Both had dealt with him in different ways. Both carried more than physical scars. In recent years after returning from the military he’d tried to patch up things and forgive, but his father didn’t make it easy. From an early age, his father had raised him and his younger brother to be prepared for a doomsday event. If there ever was a man committed to survival it was Andy Ford. He lived and breathed the prepper lifestyle. Whereas others merely did the bare minimum, his father had spent most of his life building and outfitting his home and outbuildings for the worst. Although he believed it would be an economic collapse, he had left no stone unturned in ensuring that his home was ready for any disaster. For the longest time the shelter was located at the end of a cul-de-sac, beneath their home. Over many years his parents had accumulated enough supplies to feed a hundred people. They had filled it with everything that was needed to survive: a bomb shelter, coal furnaces, kerosene refrigerators, a survival library stacked with books, bunk beds, barrels of dried food, multiple kitchens, showers, washers and dryers, generators, air filtration system, alternative sanitation and additional supplies. The only mistake he made was letting neighbors use the showers after the street lost power for three days. That was their mothers fault. She had a big heart for the community and had convinced him. What should have been a secret quickly became known to more than friends and family. It was the last time he let her good nature get the better of him.

  Still, none of it mattered now as she no longer was there.

  Their mother suffered a stroke that left her partially paralyzed, and the doctors said she had less than a year to live. His father had taken out a large loan on the house to ensure those final months were the best. He’d taken her away on multiple trips and financed most if not all of her dreams. The problem was she lived another four years, and the cost of ongoing care and trips soon racked up. With a lack of work as a carpenter, upon her death he could no longer pay the bills so the bank foreclosed on the house. It was a terribly trying time. Not only were they dealing with the grief of losing their mother but they now had no idea where they were going to sleep. At that time, Lou, their uncle lived in Whitefish and he’d offered them a room but their father wouldn’t accept it.

  Fortunately, a family from a local church took them in and let them use the RV in their yard. Had it not been for their kindness he was sure child services would have moved in and taken them away. Their father was already walking on shaky ground with them and that was when their mother was alive. Those final days in their childhood home were spent carting out 300-pound barrels of dried food from the basement before the bank blocked their father from the property.

  Had it not been for all the food that had been stored over the years, life might have been harder than it was, and it was hard. The years after their mother’s death, their father lashed out at the drop of a hat. Without their mother to provide balance, and intervene, Corey would often take the fall on the bad nights in order to protect Tyler.

  “Okay, I’ll swing by his store on the way out of town. Any problems and—”

  “I can handle it. Okay,” Ella said, walking up to him and giving him a kiss. “Go on. Get going before they leave without you.”

  Corey gave her another hug and then collected his jacket and the keys to his old blue and white Yamaha XT225. His father had bought it back in the late eighties and gave it to him as a gift when he turned sixteen. It was still in mint condition, though it had racked up a fair number of miles. He wheeled it out of the garage, and kick started it to life. A few revs and he zipped away down Iron Horse Road. It was only then he was able to fully appreciate the gravity of the situation. All the homes were in darkness barring a few that must have been running generators. The outage didn’t concern him too much as back in 2017 extreme winds had knocked down power lines and caused power outages to over 12,000 residents in northwest Montana. Whitefish, Columbia Falls and the West Valley had all been hit hard. Back then the community rallied together and within a matter of four hours they were back up and running. Of course his father had overreacted but that was to be expected. Pine trees blurred in his peripheral vision as the bike curved around the road into Lakeshore Drive. Corey felt the bike rattle between his legs as he powered forward out of a bend. He shifted through gears, upshifting to third, then fourth. Fifth gear. The wind whistled in his ears, and vehicles parked at the side of the road receded into his rear view. It had been a while since he’d driven the bike. It had been sitting in the garage gathering dust. Even though it was an old relic from times gone by, it still held up. He pushed it to its top speed. To his right was Mountain Harbor and Monks Bay, the southwestern area of Whitefish Lake. Many a summer he’d fished down there with Tyler, spending lazy Sunday afternoons drinking beer and talking about getting out of town. So much had changed since they were kids. He hadn’t heard from his brother in over three years. Attempts to get him on the phone had failed, and the few visits he made to see him at their Uncle Lou’s in Vegas didn’t end well. Tyler blamed him for leaving to join the military, and in some ways maybe he was right, back then he’d grown tired of taking the brunt of their father’s anger and demands. The military was an escape, a walk in the park compared to the years of his father’s daily routine. He didn’t linger thinking about it. The very thought of it made him anxious.

  The closer he got to town the more concerned he became. He’d pulled out his cell phone from his pocket in the hopes that he could get a signal but there was nothing. Lights all over town had gone dark, cars and trucks had stalled, traffic lights were off, and there was a heavy police presence out on the streets. Though there were no sirens, or strobe lights flashing. For a small tourist town in the height of summer it wasn’t strange to see many people out on the streets, going to restaurants and bars, but something was different about this picture. Still, Corey tried not to read into it as he curved onto U.S. 93 South which ran through the heart of the town. His father’s army and navy surplus store was one of a kind. While the town offered numerous sports, fishing and hunting stores, there was only one that catered to military surplus. Several years after losing their mother, his father had snapped out of his grief with the help of his brother Lou, and had taken on the Whitefish store while Lou moved to Vegas to branch out, get better deals and extend his family business. It was a win-win situation in some ways. It gave their father purpose and a sense of renewed pride, and it also meant he couldn’t spend his days drinking heavily. Beyond the standard camping and outdoor gear that could be purchased, he carried footwear, knives, sports gear, optics, self-defense and surplus items.

  Corey veered into the parking lot and glanced at the army green half-track out front. It was used to catch the eye of drivers and draw them in. Around the left side of the building there was a camouflaged K-711 general utility truck that was his father’s
pride and joy. Now and then he would use it in a town parade as a way of advertising his business, otherwise it remained on the property.

  He pulled up outside and killed the engine before heading into the lit-up building. As he entered, he could hear the generator churning away and see his father hunched over taking out items from a large box. Andy Ford was in his late sixties, but those who knew him said he didn’t look a day over fifty. He was bald but sporting a frequently dyed goatee. A strict diet, no alcohol and an active lifestyle had served him well. Those who didn’t know him and walked into the store for the first time figured he was a veteran as he was always seen wearing military clothing and given the opportunity, he would let anyone who would listen know how proud he was of his Marine son.

  “Hey Dad, you got the keys to my truck?”

  “Yep,” he said without looking at him.

  “Well can I get them? I’ve got a call of a plane in trouble somewhere over Glacier National Park. I’m heading out with Terry and crew.”

  “No can do. We’re going to need it.”

  Corey shook his head in disbelief as he threaded his way through the main store, which was filled with shelves packed with camping gear, and below that were clothing racks. Above were kayaks attached to the ceiling, and on the far wall were snowshoes, skis, snowboards and a glass case full of military and naval pins. “Look, whatever you’ve got going on, I’m sure you can use the K-711. And where is your Titanium truck?” Corey asked.

  Andy emerged from a rack of clothing and continued, “Haven’t you seen it out there?”

  “Yeah. A power outage. And?”

  “And this is it.”

  Corey chuckled to himself. “Like 2017 was it? Or 2014, or how about 2012? Like when are you going to stop acting so damn paranoid?”

  He shook his aged finger at him. “Boy, I taught you better than this. Watch your mouth.”

  “Yeah, I think I’m a little old for that, Dad. Look just give me the damn keys and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “I just told you. The 4 x 4 stays here.”

  “Like hell it does. It’s mine,” Corey snapped.

  “It belongs to the business,” he replied. “I pay for the lease. You drive it. Or have you forgotten?”

  “How could I? You just love to keep bringing it up.”

  Corey watched him loading up several duffel bags with various items. He could tell from some of the items what he was doing. He sighed and leaned against a rack of jackets. “Go on then. What’s it this time? An economic collapse, a solar flare, an EMP?”

  “Don’t be sarcastic. And help me gather up items. We’re heading up to the cabin.”

  “I’m not heading anywhere, Dad. I have responsibilities. People are relying on me.”

  “People are going to die. Do you want to be among them?”

  “Geesh. I told you enough with this crap. I’m heading out. You don’t want to give me my truck. Fine. I’ll take your utility vehicle. But I’m not heading to the cabin.” He stopped and grabbed up a duffel bag to fill with some essentials like a medic kit, flashlights, tarps, insulated blankets. In the past his father had been cool about it as he got compensated by the town. He said he was only doing it for the extra money but Corey knew better. “You don’t mind if I take a few things? Better to be on the safe side.” He scooped up a Mauser M18 rifle and collected ammo.

  “You going hunting?”

  “Might have to,” Corey replied before dumping it all into a cart and collecting several jackets, multiple cans of Sterno and a box of MREs. His father watched him with a scowl on his face.

  As Corey rolled the cart towards the door, Andy called out. “You ever known your Uncle Lou to jump the gun?” Corey stopped walking and looked at his father in the reflection of the window. While he had doubted his father many times, Lou was different. Although a prepper, he wasn’t given to paranoia, or running to the bunker at every news alert or change in weather. Corey turned his head and his father continued, “I was talking with him before the lights went out. There are outages all over the West Coast. Phone lines are down. Power is out. Vehicles are stalled. This isn’t an isolated issue, Corey. Listen, I know I’ve been wrong before but this is different. Now you can either get on board or be left behind but I for one am making damn sure that we have what we need.”

  “You mean what you need.”

  His father shook his head. “Look, we need to be ready when this town wakes up to the cold reality.”

  “Which is?”

  He rolled his eyes. “An EMP, Corey.”

  Corey snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure it is. Just like 2017 was a solar flare, and 2016…”

  Andy stabbed his finger at him and bellowed, “Don’t you patronize me, boy! I get enough of that from your brother.”

  “Huh! Been in contact with him, have we? Or are you referring to the last time you spoke? When was that? Oh, that’s right, on his eighteenth birthday.”

  “We never saw eye to eye.”

  “Maybe you would if you had taken the time to listen. Tell me, Dad, have you even made an effort since Tyler left?”

  “No more than you.”

  “Hey, at least I’ve tried,” Corey said.

  “Whatever. He made his choice.”

  “As did you,” Corey said before turning and walking towards the door.

  “So that’s a no?”

  “I’m going to help, maybe you should do the same instead of looking out for number one.”

  “Everything I did was for you boys.”

  Corey turned, one hand on the door, the other still on the cart. “Yeah? I appreciate that, Dad. I really do but what have you got to show for it?” His father offered back a blank stare as Corey exited into the humid June evening. Despite his father thinking he wasn’t seeing the forest for the trees, Corey was well aware that cars didn’t stall in an isolated power outage. But that didn’t mean he was ready to neglect his duties. One thing the military had taught him was to show up, and go above and beyond when others would run the other way. This wasn’t a time to shrink back. EMP or not, lives were at stake and he’d be damned if he would turn away now.

  7

  The Glacier National Park ranger stood on the upper banks of Lake McDonald with a rifle in hand as he watched the soaking wet inmates and correctional officer wade onto the rocky shore. Gabriel had seen his silhouette as he climbed down. A full moon shone brightly giving him a clear view of the weapon in the ranger’s hand. With the other he aimed a bright flashlight beam towards them. Gabriel imagined backup was already on the way, and yet he’d already cautioned correctional officer Martin Lee that if he did anything, he would join the ranger in death.

  “Stay right there!” the ranger bellowed as he raised the rifle. He was short in stature, balding through the middle of his hair, and slightly chubby. The ranger pitched sideways making his way down from the embankment to the shore. Loose soil and stone broke away and rolled. Although it was summer, the evening had robbed the water of what little heat had been on the surface. It was now frigid cold and all of them were shaking. Gabriel’s teeth chattered. He laid Marcus back and slapped his cheek a few times to get him to stir before turning him on his side. Within seconds he was spewing up water.

  “There. Welcome back, brother,” he said before looking up at the ranger.

  Lee stepped out from among them with both hands raised. “Whoa. It’s okay. They are low-risk offenders. Petty crime. We were transferring them from North Dakota to Washington when our plane went down,” he said thumbing over his shoulder as if it wasn’t already obvious. The ranger didn’t take his eyes off the inmates, and kept a safe distance slightly uphill from them. He raked the barrel of the rifle back and forth making it clear any sudden moves would be fatal.

  “Backup is already on the way,” he said.

  “Where are we?” Lee asked.

  “Montana. The northwest side of Lake McDonald. You’re in the national park. How many others are alive?”

  “It’s just
us,” Lee said wrapping his arms around his body and shivering. “No one else survived that I know of.”

  “Well you all just… take a seat on the shore. We’ll soon have you out of here.”

  “Mister, we are freezing,” Lee said. “We need some blankets. Somewhere warm to stay.”

  “Can’t be of much help there. The ranger station is a few miles up the road but until backup arrives, I don’t feel comfortable heading that way. We’ll just stay here for now.”

  Niles, one of the inmates, stepped forward. “And freeze to death?”

  “Don’t move!”

  “What, you going to shoot us?”

  “If I have to.”

  “Then shoot us but I’m not staying here. It’s too cold.”

  Lee turned and tried to get him to calm down but he was adamant. He took a few more steps forward and the ranger aimed the rifle at him. “Stay where you are!”

  “Niles, get back,” Gabriel said.

  “No, fuck this.”

  “I said stay back.”

  Lee rushed forward to intervene. He got between them. “Just calm down,” he said, his eyes darting between them. “We can figure this out.”

  “We’ll figure it out when I’m warm.”

  Quickly, the distance between Niles and the ranger got less. Lee kept backing up trying to stay between them. If the ranger wanted to shoot Niles, he would have had to blow a hole through the back of Lee, and it was clear he was already as nervous as hell. “Get your guy to sit back down,” the ranger shouted backing up more and almost losing his footing on the steep incline.

  “I’m trying. Niles. Listen to me.”

  Then it happened. As Niles shoved Lee, he fell back into the ranger. That was all it took. Lee twisted around and grabbed the rifle. It went off twice but thankfully no one was injured. Both of them were on the ground wrestling for the gun when Niles rushed forward and slammed a boot into the ranger’s face, twice. He would have done it a third time and probably continued until he’d killed the ranger if it hadn’t been for Gabriel.