Forsaking Home (The Survivalist Series) (4 page)

I explained to him what they were and how we could use them. He and Danny both nodded their approval. I told them to come down to the river so I could show them the roots. On my way, I stopped by the woodpile and picked up a piece of oak about the diameter of my forearm.

Thad kicked the side of the tub of tubers. “What are you going to do with this stuff?”

“We’re going to get the starch out,” I said. Using the end of the wood, I started to pound the roots.

As I worked I explained to them the process: First, you pound the roots as thoroughly as possible, so the water turns cloudy white. Then, you remove as much of the fiber as possible and let the water settle. Once all the starch settles, you pour off most of the water and allow the rest of the water to evaporate. I told them that you could speed up the evaporation process by heating the tub, as long as you were careful not to scorch the starch.

“That’s pretty neat,” Thad said.

“We can use it to cut things like pancake mix. I’ll make some tomorrow for breakfast.”

“Oh, the girls are going to be so excited,” Thad said.

“Screw that,
I’m
excited for pancakes. What else can we use this stuff for?” Danny asked.

“Anything you would use starch or flour for, like dusting fish for frying or thickening stews. The uses are really unlimited,” I said.

After I pounded the roots out more thoroughly, the bottom of the tub had a soft layer of starch. Satisfied, I stood up and we started making our way back to the cabins. It was time for our soap-making lesson.

“I know you get lye from wood ash. What else do we need?” I asked.

Thad pulled a pillowcase from the table. “We need to fill this with ashes. And we’ll need a few empty buckets.”

We’d had a fire burning in the pit nearly nonstop since we moved into the cabins, so there was a lot of ash. When the pile of ash got too high we would dump it in a pile at the edge of the woods. We went to this pile with the pillow case and a shovel. Thad held the case open while I shoveled the ash into it.

Mel and Bobbie were at the table when we got back.

“You gonna show us how to make this soap?” Bobbie asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Thad said with a smile, “but it takes time. It isn’t a fast process.”

“What is, these days?” Mel joked, with a smile. “How long does it take?”

“The soap mix can be done in a day, but then you gotta pour it into a mold to set for at least another day. Then when you take it from the mold, it has to cure for a month.”

Mel and Bobbie were both shocked. “What? A
month
?” Mel asked.

“Yeah, otherwise it’ll burn your skin. It’s got to cure. How much soap do we have left?”

“We still have some, but we’ll probably be out of it in a few weeks,” Bobbie said.

Thad smiled. “Then I guess we need to get this soap made.”

Mel clapped her hands. “So! What do we do?”

Thad grabbed the large pot and nodded toward the river. “First, we need to get some water boiling.” After filling it with water from the river, he set the pot on the fire. As we were waiting for it to boil, Jeff came back out in a fresh change of clothes.

“This the soap-making class?” he asked.

“This is it,” Bobbie said.

“Do we get merit badges?” Jeff asked with a smile.

“No merit badges, but you will get to wash your laundry. And from the looks of you and Morgan after your adventure today, your clothes need it,” Mel said.

Soon enough, the water in the pot was boiling. Thad set the pillowcase of ash into one of the buckets, then asked Danny to pour the boiling water into it. Danny quickly dumped the steaming contents in as requested. Thad folded the edges of the sack over the rim of the bucket and looked up, “Go fill it again.” Danny jogged down to the river and refilled the pot. When he returned Thad told him that pot needed to boil too.

While we waited for the water to boil, Thad explained the next step in the process.

“When that one boils, we’ll pour it into one of those other buckets. Then the bag has to be dunked in and out of the water, like you’re making tea.”

We sat around talking while we waited. With so many eyes on it, the pot seemed to take forever to boil. Once it did Danny poured it into the sack as well. Thad grabbed the top of the sack and closed it up, then began dunking it up and down.

“Once this is done we need to boil everything down.” Thad looked up at Mel and Bobbie. “Either of you have a big enameled pot?”

“I do, it’s about the size of that one,” Bobbie said, pointing to the pot used to boil water.

“That’ll work.”

“This is pretty cool, Thad. I always wanted to learn to do this. It was one of those things I always figured I’d get to.” I looked over at him. “Just another example of putting things off till tomorrow. Sometimes tomorrow doesn’t come.”

“I know what you mean. I never thought of this as a skill I would someday rely on. It was just a way to keep something from the past alive, in a way.”

I looked down into the slurry. “There’s decades of skills lost that would make our lives easier. The rush to make life easier, more convenient, overshadowed those skills, and we’re paying the price now.”

Thad grunted. “Yeah, people made fun of folks who held on to the old ways, calling ’em hippies or whatever. I bet they are a lot more comfortable right now than most folks.”

Thad poured the slurry into the pot Bobbie handed him. “We’ll cook this down for a while.” After scraping the bucket out with a stick, he set it on the fire.

“How long does it take?”

Thad looked up and smiled. “Till it’s done.”

T
ed guided the boat slowly down the river. Between the four of them and all the gear, the boat was almost overloaded.

Doc sat beside him with his feet stuck out on his pack.
Wish I had a flipping stick
, he thought. His thoughts drifted to a few months ago. Doc’s tour was almost up before things went south, and he had decided it was time to get out. His parents were both gone now and he had no siblings. He had planned to fix up his parent’s old place in Tennessee just as the shit hit the fan. To say he was bitter about the way things worked out would be an understatement.

Sarge sat in the front seat with his legs outstretched on the bow and the SAW lying across his lap. In the cool morning air, it was a peaceful ride down the river
.
The calm before the storm
, Sarge thought.

The Guard camp was located on a sand plain six or seven feet above the river, spread out under the old live oaks and gum trees. On the previous visit, Doc had told Captain Sheffield that as nice as the area was, in the summer it would be crawling with ticks, and he was right.

The river became narrow and shallow, and soon, the landing ramp came into view. Captain Sheffield stood at the shoreline waiting for them. Lieutenant Livingston was sitting behind the wheel of a Hummer, and Ian, the adopted marine, was sitting in a second Hummer. Sarge stood as the bow of the boat hit the sand abruptly, launching him out.

Sarge landed on the sand, took one big step to slow his forward momentum, and stood up. “I meant to do that.”

Sheffield shook his head. “It almost looked that way.” He stuck his hand out, and Sarge took it with a grin on his face.

“Good to see you, Captain.”

“Good to see you, First Sergeant.”

Ted cut the engine and he and the guys started unloading their gear. Ian came down to help, and together, the four started carrying the gear up to the camp.

“Hey, Doc, I got a couple of guys I need you to check out when we get to camp,” Livingston called out.

“Sure thing, what’s the problem?”

“Some kind of stomach bug.”

“Where are they staying?”

“We isolated them in a tent by themselves.”

“Smart move. As soon as we get up there, I’ll look at them.”

With all the gear unloaded, Sarge got in the Hummer with Sheffield and Livingston while the guys rode with Ian.

“So what’s the old man’s plan?” Ian asked.

Mike laughed. “I don’t think he has one.”

“Let me guess: we’ll make it up as we go along?”

Doc leaned forward to look at Ian. “And
how
long have you known Sarge?” All the guys started to laugh.

They drove through the camp, which was bustling with activity. People were visible everywhere. Tents were spread out under the old oaks along the river, civilian and military ones mingled in a loose organization. Numerous smoky fires burned throughout the camp. The smoke hung like clouds in the canopy of oak trees and Spanish moss.

They followed the brass in the lead Hummer up to the command tent and parked out front. As soon as they got out, Doc asked to be taken to the quarantine tent. Ian pointed him to it, saying, “I ain’t going in there.”

Doc chuckled. “Pussy,” he replied, pulling on a set of nitrile gloves.

Sarge, Sheffield, and Livingston went on the Command Post and sat down around a small table. Ted and Mike followed, taking a seat on a couple of crates.

“I’m all ears, First Sergeant,” Sheffield said.

“We’re going to need to work up a mission plan to try and take over the refugee camp located at the naval bombing range. Right now all I’ve got is the drawing you already saw. The brass says the camps aren’t what they appear. Rumors of forced labor and relocations are coming out of several camps around the country. Worse yet are the rumors of executions.”

Sheffield looked surprised. “Executions?”

“That’s what we’re hearing.”

“We’re going to need to do some recon on the camp. We need to get as much intel as possible,” Livingston said.

“You said you have some equipment that will help with that?” Sheffield asked.

“I do, but before we commit to that, we need to send some guys out to find a place we can set it up. We aren’t taking it in there blind,” Sarge said.

“We can send in some scouts for a little sneak and peek,” Livingston said.

Sarge nodded at him. “As we discussed earlier, send your marine and these two”—Sarge pointed to Mike and Ted—“and a couple of your best shooters. Five men should be enough.”

Sheffield looked at Livingston, then back at Sarge. “How about four men and one woman?”

“I don’t care if you send Sasquatch, as long as they know how to use a weapon and conduct themselves on a recon mission. Why, you got a gal you want to send out?”

“Yeah, Jamie. She’s a spec four and the best shot in our unit. The guys hate it, but she’s good. She’s a big hunter, bow hunts every year,” Livingston said.

Sarge turned to look at Mike and Ted. “You guys got any problem with a woman watching your six?”

Ted shook his head. Mike grinned. “Not me, I’m used to women looking at my ass.”

“That’s ’cause you’re
all
ass, dipshit.” Sarge looked back at Livingston. “Let’s get ’em rounded up. We need to kick this off as soon as we can.”

Ian stuck his head back in the tent. Livingston immediately told him to go find Jamie and the others he wanted on the mission. Ian nodded and waved for Ted and Mike to follow him.

 • • • 

Doc walked out of the tent and made his way to the CP. Sarge and the officers were standing out front. “Hey, Captain, who’s responsible for hygiene around here?” Doc called out.

Sheffield looked at Livingston. “Sergeant Harmon was pressed into service for that duty.”

“Where is he?”

Livingston stuck his head back in the tent and told a corporal there to go find him. “He’ll be around shortly. What’s up?”

“Those two have dysentery. I want to see the latrines and where you’re getting water from, how it’s treated and whatnot. Are the civilians running their side of camp any differently?”

“No, we all use the same SOP for camp hygiene.”

“Hmph. Well, let’s try and fix the issues. I’d prefer if you keep it to just two cases.”

“I agree, we’ll be swimming in a sea of shit if it spreads,” Sheffield said. “What’s the treatment for them?”

“They aren’t in too bad a shape. They need plenty of clean water, and if you’ve got any Gatorade or anything similar, it would help.”

“We have some of the powdered stuff,” Livingston replied.

“That’s good, we’ll water it down. It will help them replace salts and whatnot.”

“Doc, Mike, and Ted are going to go do a recon of the camp. I’d like you to stay behind and try and get this issue under control,” Sarge said.

“No problem, Sarge,” Doc replied.

A tired-looking black man in his late thirties walked up. “You need me, Lieutenant?”

“Harmon, Doc here said two of our people have dysentery. He wants to see the latrines and some other stuff. Show him whatever he asks to see.”

“Not a problem. Glad to have someone around who knows what they’re doing,” Harmon replied. “Come on, Doc, I’ll show you around.”

 • • • 

Ian led the way through the camp, giving the guys the rundown on Jamie. “You guys will like her, she’s funny as hell”—he waggled his eyebrows up and down—“and not bad on the eyes either. She’s the best shot in the unit. She’s also a really good tracker.”

“Sounds like my kinda woman,” Mike said with a grin.

Ian laughed. “She’ll eat you for lunch, dude. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

On the far eastern edge of the camp they came to a sandbagged bunker. Ian called out as they approached it, “Hey, Jamie, you in there?”

A petite brunette stepped out of the entrance. She looked dwarfed by all the body armor and the PASGT helmet on her head.

“Wha’daya want, Ian?”

“You’ve been volunteered for a mission. Come with us.”

“Who are they?” she asked, jutting her chin in Mike and Ted’s direction. Mike immediately noticed her brilliant green eyes.

“Your new best friends. Grab your stuff, come on.”

She paused for a moment, not sure whether to believe Ian or not. He was notorious for playing jokes. Stepping back inside, she quickly reemerged with a pack slung over her shoulder. “Where are we going?”

“For a walk in the woods.”

Mike stuck out his hand, which she shook. “I’m Mike, and this is Ted. We’re going to go take a look at the FEMA camp at the old bombing range.”

“Sounds like fun! Is it just us?”

“We need one more person. I was thinking of getting Perez,” Ian replied.

Jamie nodded her head. “Grumpy ole fucker would probably like a trip out of here.”

“Can you go find him and meet us at the CP?”

“Yeah, I’ll round him up.” She jogged off.

Ian, Ted, and Mike headed back to the CP. “Dude, she is hot as hell,” Mike said.

Ian laughed. “Tell me about it. She’s a tough chick too, redneck as they come. Don’t waste your time, though. Nobody has ever scored that one.”

“Real nice, Ian. You just threw down the gauntlet. Now he
has
to try,” Ted said, shaking his head.

“Challenge accepted!” Mike shouted from behind.

Ted shook his head, Ian laughed. “You better wear your Nomex underwear, brother, ’cause you’re gonna go down in flames!”

Ted let out a loud laugh. “I can’t wait to see this!”

 • • • 

Doc looked down at the small trench. “This is the latrine?” The visual was almost as bad as the smell wafting out of it.

“Yeah, I know it’s crude, but it’s the best we can do.”

Doc looked at the slot trench, which was woefully unmaintained. It was obviously being used to urinate into as well.

“You know everyone is supposed to cover their waste when they use it, right?”

“Well, yeah, but some people don’t.”

“We gotta fix this.”

“I’m all ears if you know a better way.”

“Let’s go talk to the lieutenant.”

Harmon led the way back to the CP. Livingston looked up as they approached.

“Well, what’s the diagnosis, Doc?” he asked.

“We need to do something soon. What you guys are doing to manage waste is not helping matters around here. It’s probably why those two are sick.”

Sheffield grunted. “Tell me about it, that damn latrine is nasty. I only use it when I absolutely have to. I’ll take my chances and piss in the woods.”

“That’s another problem. You can’t be doing that either. You’ve got over a hundred people here. If everyone
pisses in the woods
, this place will be a cesspool.” Doc paced back and forth. “We need to redo the latrine and make a urine pit where everyone goes.” He looked at both officers. “Everyone.”

Livingston and Sheffield both nodded, admitting their guilt in not following the standard procedures. “Just tell us what you need,” Sheffield said.

“Hm. I need some empty drums, fifty-five-gallon ones, and some pipe too.”

“We’ve got a few empties that used to have fuel in them. As for pipe . . .” Livingston trailed off, then looked at Harmon. “We got any pipe you know of?”

Harmon shook his head.

“We need some sort of aggregate too. I doubt there’s any gravel lying around,” Doc said, trying to think of an alternate.

“No, no gravel,” Harmon replied.

Doc looked sideways at Livingston. “How about cans, like soda cans or food cans?”

Ian and the guys walked up.

“Need cans? We’ve got a stack of empty cans and aluminum trays from squad meals. Would that work?” Ian suggested.

“What the hell you going to do with that?” Sheffield asked Doc.

“Crush the cans, wad up the trays, and use them as filler for the piss pit. Harmon, you need to find a spot for the new latrine, get all the cans moved over there and have someone crush them all.”

“Will do, we’ll get started right now,” Harmon said, nodding at the captain. Sheffield dismissed him.

Sarge stood off to the side during the conversation, as shit holes and piss pits didn’t much interest him. Looking at Ian, he asked, “Where’s this Amazon goddess hunter of yours?”

“She’s on her way. She’s rounding up the other guy we need.”

Sarge looked at Ted. “What’s your plan?”

“I figure we need to go out and poke around for a place to set up an observation point. We’ll do that tonight and then keep an eye on them tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow night we’ll move to the opposite side of the camp, see what we can make out.”

“You going to take both buggies?”

“No, just the Hyena. Less tracks.”

“Sounds good to me. Try and get a head count, equipment, whatever you can see.”

“Will do. In that case, we need a ride down to the cabins to get the buggy,” Mike said.

“I’ll take you guys down in the boat. I need to get some stuff from Morgan,” Doc volunteered.

“Works for me. Soon as your help gets here, you guys head out, and grab all the ammo and grub you want,” Sarge said.

Jamie walked up with another uniformed man. He was probably close to fifty and had a haggard, hard look to him. Ian smiled at the two.

“Hey, Perez, you wanna go play hide-and-seek in the woods for a few days?” Ian asked.

Perez licked his lips and looked side to side. “Who’s
it
?”

“They are. We don’t want to be
it
in this game,” Sarge said flatly.

“Damn, I hate the hiding part. I prefer to do the hunting.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” Sarge replied.

“You guys got all your shit?” Ian asked.

Perez held up a pack. “Everything I own.”

Ian and Sarge looked at Jamie. She turned to the side slightly to show the pack on her back. “Oh, you know me, I got my makeup, some bras . . .”

A slight smile started to crack Sarge’s face when Ian said, “Shit, Jamie, you wouldn’t wear any makeup if you had it”—he paused and made a show of looking at her chest—“a bra, however—”

“Fuck you, Ian,” she said, kicking sand into his face.

Sarge was smiling broadly now. “Oh, I like her, she’ll fit right in with these misfits.”

“They’re your problem now,” Livingston said with a smile.