Authors: Doug Kelly
“No,
we’re just floating by and thought we might stretch our legs for a second.”
Kevin
and Richard were almost to the shore. The man stopped in front of the tent
closest to him, put a large pan of cleaned and filleted raw fish down, and then
whispered something into the tent’s opening. A woman whispered back from inside
the tent, “Just ask them.”
“Can
we borrow your cell phone? I can’t get my truck started and it seems like the
batteries went dead in all of our stuff. I need to call a tow truck to get a
jump start.” The man looked back toward the fish. “We ran out of ice and I’m
going to have to cook all this fish now or it’ll spoil. It’s really more than
we can eat. You’re welcome to have some. There are paper plates on the table.”
The man looked toward Dylan and asked pleadingly, “Do you care if I make a
call?”
“I’m
sorry, we’re just roughing it. We don’t have a cell phone with us,” Dylan said,
with remorse.
“Damn.
I’ll keep waiting for someone else.” The man picked up the pan of fish. “I
better get this fish cooked up. Tell your friends to come ashore. It’ll be
ready pretty quick.”
Dylan
felt sorry for the man and wanted to tell him everything he knew about the EMP
and the collapse of the electric grid, but was afraid of what his reaction
might be. Right now, even though most electronics were not working, he still
might sound crazy to the stranger. He wanted to avoid all confrontation, and
with firm resolve, reminded himself that his only objective was to get back to
his family. He could not save the world.
The
man placed the pan of filleted fish over the fire and in moments, the cooking
fish smelled delicious. As the aroma wafted his way, Dylan felt his mouth fill
with saliva. He had an impulse to devour the half-cooked fish. Sharing food
with a stranger was an unexpected bonus; it could help to stretch their supply
of food for the journey. He knew they had some food in the rafts, but it would
be good to conserve as much as they could.
Kevin
approached their cook and handed him a bottle of water. “You look thirsty,”
Kevin said, smiling at the sight of a hot meal.
“Yeah,
my truck won’t start, so I can’t drive anywhere to get drinking water. We’ve
had to boil that stuff. It’s a real hassle,” the man said, as he pointed to the
lake.
“Grab
your water jugs. I have a filter. It’s the least I can do for some of that
fish,” said Kevin.
“Deal,”
the man said quickly, just before turning the fish and dashing over to get the
water jugs so he could be back in time to keep the fish from burning.
Kevin
retrieved the filter from the raft and proceeded to wade into the shallow
water. The man had brought every container he had that could hold water. Kevin
lined up the man’s containers near the water’s edge and began to fill them with
filtered water. Once they were all full, Kevin sat them next to the picnic
table. The man was very pleased.
Dylan
held out a paper plate on the palms of his hands. The man placed the cooked
fish on the plate and Dylan could feel the warmth of the fish through the thin
paper. After sprinkling a little salt on the fish, he devoured it, eating with
his fingers. He noticed that the others doing the same, and suspected that this
style of eating would be the new normal. After they consumed all the fish, Dylan
apologized again for not having a phone, then they pushed away from the
lakeshore. With a quick wave goodbye and shouting their thanks, the three men
continued their journey. Dylan felt sorry for the man at the little campground,
but he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do for him. He suspected
that, on their way home, they would meet many others who were stuck. He expected
other strangers, as time passed, to be increasingly desperate, and with that
comes danger.
Dylan
assumed the lead in the flotilla again. He changed his position in the raft to
face the rear, and from this position, placed each paddle into an oarlock. The
oarlocks, acting as fulcrums, allowed Dylan to use the strength of his arms and
back to row more forcefully. He estimated that by turning paddles into oars,
his speed doubled on the water. He easily accelerated away from the other men,
then slowed down for them to catch up. When Kevin and then Richard got near
Dylan’s raft, he suggested that they also switch from paddling the rafts to
rowing them. At this faster pace, they could make it to the first dam before
sundown, then use the remaining light of day to find portage around the dam,
and still have time to find a place to camp for the night. In agreement with
the plan, they continued, but with Richard struggling to keep pace with the
other men.
Dylan’s
enthusiastic rowing put him well ahead of the others and he was the first to
hear the muffled roar of water pouring over the dam. Looking in that direction,
he noticed another campground to the right of the dam. He removed the oars from
the oarlocks, and turning around, began to paddle. He moved slowly forward, but
angled his approach toward the side of the dam opposite the campground. Kevin
and Richard gradually caught up.
Looking
toward the dam, Dylan said, “I think we should stay away from the campground.
Let’s set up our camp away from other people. To the left of the dam it looks
like there’s a gradual slope upwards. I’ll jump out and look for a good path
around and down the other side. Once we get around this dam, let’s stop at a
flat clearing and pull the rafts out. It would be a good time to split up some
of this food and get some sleep.”
“Do
you care if I tag along?” asked Kevin.
“Be
my guest,” Dylan said, then asked Richard, “Do you mind watching our rafts?”
“No
problem, I need a smoke break.”
“Not
in the raft,” Dylan said emphatically. “Keep your lit cigarettes away from the
rafts. I don’t want any accidents. These rafts are our ticket home.”
At
a safe distance away from the dam, the men found a gradual slope from the
shoreline upwards. Dylan and Kevin jumped out of their rafts at this point and
placed them on either side of Richard’s. They tethered the rafts together to
keep them from floating away, and then stepped out of the water and up the
gentle slope. Dylan told Richard that they needed to find a clear path on this
side of the dam. Nodding, Richard took a long drag from his cigarette and waved
them away. To their good fortune, Kevin noticed a small road near the dam, and
therefore this route seemed like the logical choice.
Dylan
and Kevin climbed upward to the small road. From here, they could look down and
see Richard in the center raft, and in the other direction, they could see that
the road went down to the bottom of the dam. There was a parking lot in the
distance and what looked like a small boat ramp. Kevin wanted to walk by the
stalled vehicles in the parking lot to assess any hidden threats. He did not
want to carry their equipment past anyone who might cause a confrontation. They
glanced back down at Richard once more. He was floating in the center raft and
not paying attention to their ascent up the hill. Richard was slightly slumped
over in the raft looking downward, not paying attention to anything.
The
narrow road around the dam was steep. At the bottom, they stood in the parking
lot and looked back up at the enormity of the dam. Water crashing over the top
created a foggy mist at the base. They saw nobody around the dam and all the
cars in the parking lot were empty.
Kevin
turned to Dylan and spoke. “I don’t have a good feeling about Richard. He looks
like he is really struggling with the raft.”
“I
know exactly what you mean,” said Dylan. “He’s going to be a problem, and
unfortunately he’s a problem we’re stuck with. As time goes on our situation is
going to get worse and Richard isn’t going to be able to adapt very well. With
what we’re heading into, Richard might do himself in.”
“Or
us with him?” Kevin asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dylan’s
only response was to nod his head wearily.
The
two men paced themselves going back up the steep slope of the road. On reaching
the top, they looked down to where they had left Richard with the rafts. The
rafts were gone. Richard had pushed a paddle into the muddy bank and had been
holding the paddle to maintain position. He had drifted off to sleep and let go
of the paddle. The paddle was still in the mud, but the rafts were floating
toward the strong current that plunged over the dam. Both men screamed at
Richard as they ran down the slope to the water’s edge. Richard remained
oblivious. At the water’s edge, Dylan and Kevin plunged into the lake and swam
frantically to the drifting rafts, which were getting dangerously close to the
swift current near the center of the dam. Kevin got to the drifting rafts first.
Kevin
grabbed the rope on the side of a raft and screamed, “Wake up, asshole! Wake
your fat ass up! Paddle! Paddle! PADDLE!”
Richard
jerked up, startled, and grabbed for a paddle that was no longer there. It was
still stuck in the mud on the riverbank. He fumbled for his remaining paddle
and clumsily tried to paddle from the front of his raft. Kevin pulled himself
onto a raft tethered to Richard’s and paddled with desperate effort. Dylan
reached the raft opposite Kevin, with Richard in the middle, and quickly pulled
himself up. The rafts were drifting closer to the dam.
Dylan
yelled to Kevin, “Put the paddles in the oarlocks and row hard!”
Dylan
and Kevin rowed in unison and slowly began to pull away from the dam. After
what seemed like an eternity, they broke free of the current and headed back to
the area on the shore marked by Richard’s paddle, which stood protruding from
the mud. Finally back to shore, Richard stretched forward and grabbed his
paddle from the muddy bank. Dylan and Kevin were too out of breath to speak,
and simply stared, fuming with rage, at Richard.
“I
know I screwed up. You don’t have to say anything,” said Richard.
Kevin
stood up in the raft, grasping a paddle firmly in his hands. “You screwed up?
No, asshole, you almost got us killed!” As he was yelling at Richard, Kevin
raised his paddle like a baseball bat, ready to swing, and angled his stance
toward Richard’s head. Kevin’s eyes were narrowed and filled with fury.
Dylan
held up his hand and motioned for Kevin to lower the paddle. Speaking in a low,
menacing tone through clenched teeth, Dylan snarled at Richard, “Don’t do
anything
stupid like that
again,
anything
that jeopardizes me
getting safely back to my family. If you do, I won’t bash your head in with a
paddle. We will leave you behind, by yourself, and that’ll be a death sentence
for you.”
“I
get the message,” mumbled Richard, sheepishly. He looked away, terrified to
make eye contact.
Kevin
jumped out of the raft and pulled all three, still tethered together, half out
of the water. “It is going to take at least two men to carry each raft up the
hill and down the road on the other side. Richard, you will never again be left
alone with my raft or equipment. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
The
men moved their equipment from the road and stood at the bottom of the
downstream side of the dam, with their rafts and equipment at their feet. A
small sign indicated that they were on Holter Dam Road, and the narrow pavement
traveled parallel to the river for a short distance. Their waterway, once past
the dam, had changed into a small river and their first lake was behind them
now. According to the map, there would be more dams. They discussed the dams
and decided the awaiting lakes would become evident to them when the river
began to widen and the current slowed down. At that point, it would be prudent
to switch from paddling to rowing again. They agreed that it would make good
sense, when the current was swift enough, to conserve their energy by minimizing
paddling to only what was necessary to maintain navigation. Dylan was hesitant
about staying close to the dam, the parking lot, and this road. They agreed to
float downstream to get further from the spillway and find a place that was more
secluded.
About
a mile downstream, they came upon a small island in the river. This little
island was a few hundred yards long, and at its widest point, half the width of
the river. The island’s flora varied from dry grass at the near end to dense
tree growth at the far end. This would be a suitable location for their camp.
It was not directly connected to the road, and the trees would provide
camouflage during both day and night. Before pulling the rafts completely
ashore on the little island, Kevin took a quick look around for any surface
dangers that could puncture the rafts. None were found. He did notice a
sufficient supply of dry driftwood that they could use for a campfire and
hopefully to cook something before they left again. Dylan and Kevin lifted each
of the equipment-filled rafts toward the dense trees. Richard ignored the
threat of nighttime hazards and only went a minimal distance from the riverbank.
Dylan handed Richard his hatchet and told him to gather plenty of wood and
start a fire. Dylan and Kevin were going to explore the perimeter of the little
island and be back to help as soon as they were done. The two men walked to the
far end, through the dense trees. In the thick of the wooded area, Dylan
stopped at an oak tree sapling. He circled the tree looking it up and down. The
tree was about fifteen feet tall with a trunk slightly bigger than he could get
one hand around.
“What
is it?” Kevin inquired.
“What
is it going to be,” replied Dylan.
Kevin
lifted an eyebrow and waited for the answer as Dylan slowly caressed the
sapling, looking for any imperfections in its trunk.
“This
is going to become a bow. My silent killer,” Dylan said, as he slapped the tree
with the palm of his hand. “Primitive bow making is a hobby of mine.”
“Could
you make me one?”
“Yes,
find another tree like this one while I get started.” Dylan handed Kevin a leaf
from a branch of the tree for reference.
Dylan
withdrew the fixed blade knife from the sheath strapped to his right thigh.
Kneeling, he chopped carefully around the circumference near the bottom of the
tree, wielding the thick blade until the sapling fell over. Dylan estimated a
distance of six feet from the bottom of the freshly cut sapling and hacked
through the wood once again. There were no small limbs to remove on the bottom
six feet of the trunk. Kevin motioned for Dylan to come deeper into the
thicket. He had found another sapling. Dylan repeated the process on the second
sapling, and then they hiked back to Richard, taking the wood with them.
As
they walked back toward the front end of the little island, Dylan noticed an
area between the island and the shore that became marshy and shallow for half
the island’s length. It would be possible to walk across to the small road and
only get your feet wet for the length of this narrow wetland. He saw many
cattails and suspected there would also be frogs. This reminded him that they
should set some lines in the river and try to catch some fish.
“Let’s
take these saplings back to where we left Richard. They can dry by the fire and
then I’ll carve them into bows.” Dylan gestured toward the water. “We need to
get some lines in the water to catch some fish.”
“We
don’t have any bait,” said Kevin.
“I
know. Let me dump these saplings by the fire and we’ll get started.”
Dylan
and Kevin continued toward the camp. They saw some driftwood in a pile with a
few hatchet marks. There appeared to have been a feeble attempt to chop and
split the wood into smaller pieces. Richard was smoking, standing with his back
toward them.
“Nice
fire, asshole,” Kevin said, loud enough to startle Richard and make him jump to
attention.
“Don’t
burn this wood,” Dylan said, as he placed the two saplings on the ground an
obvious distance from Richard’s pile of driftwood.
Dylan
told Kevin that he heard frogs in the marshy water. He wanted to get the frogs,
use their entrails as bait, and eat the legs. They approached the marsh as
silently as pumas in a nighttime jungle. Dylan hoped the water was cool enough
to slow down the cold-blooded amphibians. The frogs were well camouflaged, and
the men’s grab-and-snatch technique yielded few results. They finished the frog
hunt by chasing some of the remaining frogs from the marsh onto the grassy area
and grabbing them on dry ground. After they caught about a dozen frogs, Dylan
bound their small ankles together using a long flexible grassy weed. Dylan then
directed his attention toward the cattails in the shallow water. He guided
Kevin back into the swampy area to harvest the marshy plant. Dylan used his
knife and they each harvested a full armload. Kevin grabbed the frogs and they
walked back toward Richard with the soon-to-be entrees of frog legs and cattail
salad.
Richard
was fumbling with scraps of wood and his lighter. There was still no fire.
Dylan took the hand axe and split some of the dry driftwood into small
splinters. Then he took his knife and made a little pile of fine shavings from
the driftwood. Around this, he placed small twigs, and nearby placed some larger
branches waiting to be fed to the fire. Richard handed his lighter to Dylan,
and with a few sparks from the flint, the small bird’s nest of wood shavings
began to smoke. Dylan gently blew on the base of the smoking pile and a tiny
flame appeared. He sprinkled more wood shavings on the flames, and added small
twigs as the fire grew. After the twigs began to burn, he added a few larger
branches to the fire. He then placed two big pieces of driftwood over the
flames and, with a sigh of relief, considered his work with the fire complete.
“Cut
the frogs’ legs off, but leave them bundled together,” said Dylan, as he handed
his knife to Kevin. “When I get some red hot coals, I’ll roast them for us over
the embers. Take the frogs’ entrails and use them for bait. Throw some lines in
the water and hopefully we’ll have some fish for breakfast. I’ll peel the skins
off the cattails and split up some of the food from the rafts.”
The
fire continued to burn well. Kevin returned from setting the trotlines for
catfish. Dylan got some bagels and small boxes of cereal from the rafts. Kevin
decided he would wait until morning to filter more drinking water. There was
plenty of water for their evening meal. Kevin decided that to filter water they
would fill all their empty bottles at the end of the day. The bottles would be
set upright and left undisturbed throughout the night, allowing the sediment to
settle to the bottom. The settled water would then be put through the filter.
By eliminating as much sedimentation from the process as possible, the filter
should last longer. They discussed straining the river water through shirt
fabric as an alternative to waiting for the sediment to settle, and agreed to
do what was expedient.
The
three men sat around the fire. Dylan poked at the burning wood and brought a
pile of glowing embers closer to him. He fastened the bundle of frog legs to
the end of a stick and held them near the coals. He pushed the end of the stick
into the soft ground at an angle to keep the frog legs at the correct distance
above the red embers, and slid a piece of wood under the stick for additional
support.
“How
do you like your steak?” asked Dylan, with a failed attempt at humor. The
others, apparently hypnotized by the fire, said nothing in reply. Fatigue was
settling in.
Finally,
Richard asked, “Can we split this stuff up now? I’m starving.”
They
each ate an even share of the bagels and boxed cereal taken from the hotel, and
devoured the frog legs. Then Dylan pointed to the cattails.
“The
cattails are peeled and ready to eat,” said Dylan.
He
was first to try a cattail. He took one gingerly from the pile and slowly
chewed. Kevin was next, and apprehensively took a bite of the cattail shoot.
“Not
bad,” said Kevin, “but I’m still hungry.”
“I
never thought I would eat something like this,” Richard said, as he tasted the
white and green shoot.
The
sun began to set in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains shortly after the
meal. Each man placed his raft where he chose to sleep that night. Richard stayed
near the upstream end of the little island. His raft was closest to the fire
and remained in the open. Dylan and Kevin suggested that he move to a more
concealed location, but Richard had no further energy to expend. He would sleep
right where he left the raft. Richard sprawled awkwardly in the raft, covered
himself with a tarp, and promptly went to sleep.
Dylan
and Kevin both retreated to a thicket of shrubs and small trees farther away
from the campfire, and the seclusion gave them a sense of security in the
unfamiliar world of their new nighttime surroundings. Eager to rest, Dylan and
Kevin settled into their rafts. Dylan chose this opportunity away from Richard
to discuss long-term plans.
“Have
you thought about what you are going to do when you get back home to your
wife?” asked Dylan.
“Yeah,
I thought about it. I live in an urban area. It’ll be bad. My wife and I
discussed staying in a cheap apartment for a while to save enough money for a
down payment on a house. That might have been a bad idea.” Kevin paused and
thought about his wife. “I hope she’s okay. She’s there and I’m here. There’s
nothing I can do for her. It’s just us in that town, no family.”
“Let
me tell you what I was thinking.” Dylan cleared his throat, took a deep breath,
and spoke. “From what you have told me and what I’ve concluded is going to
happen, your situation in Omaha is bleak. Consider where you live and ask
yourself how you’re going to get food and water. Your neighborhood, if not your
apartment building, is going to become a war zone. I bet your wife has already
heard gunshots. It’s only going to get worse. Think about it, Kevin. I killed
someone with a baseball bat today. Did I ever think that would happen to me? We
need to stick together. Forget about Omaha and go to Kansas City with me.”
“I’m
not going to abandon my wife.”
“No,
you got it wrong. We get your wife and bring her with us. There is no safe
place for you in that town.”
“What
about Richard?”
“We
bring him, too. I wanted to ask you first.”
“What
you said about cutting him loose from us still stands?” asked Kevin.
“I’ll
give him a chance. If he jeopardizes us or our ability to get back to our
families, he is gone…just like that,” Dylan said, snapping his fingers.
“Your
place is better, right?” asked Kevin.
“Let
me explain,” said Dylan. “My house is in suburbia. I wish it was a rural setting
but it’s not, so I’ll have to deal with that. However, I’m away from the urban
area. My subdivision is located close to farmland and an enormous county park.
That open parkland is next to my house. It’s a new subdivision and not all of
the lots are developed. Therefore, I’ll have the advantage of low population
density. The parkland I’m next to has an artificial lake. The lake is fed by a
small stream a short distance down my street. I’ve seen deer, turkeys, geese,
and ground hogs, you name it and I have seen it walking through my backyard.
That’s food and water, Kevin. Let me tell you something else. I’ve been
stockpiling food, the kind of food that will last for years, and seeds, too.
We’ll have time to learn to grow our own food.”
“Will
you help me get my wife?” asked Kevin.
“Yes,
I’ll help you get your wife and bring her to Kansas City with us.”
“I
like your plan,” Kevin said, nodding with approval.
Both
men hung their heads and thought about what they had discussed. Traveling and
surviving with a group could have its advantages. To survive, they needed every
advantage they could get. Dylan’s proposal offered several safety advantages
and Kevin could not think of any reason not to accept the offer.
“What
did you say?” asked Kevin.
“I
didn’t say anything. I’m just thinking about how we can make this work and I’m
glad you agreed,” said Dylan.
The
men continued with their private thoughts, each thinking about travelling home
and all the obstacles they would need to overcome.
“What?”
Kevin asked again.
“I
didn’t say anything. Get some sleep, you’re hallucinating,” Dylan said, with a
chuckle.