Bobby Akart - Armageddon

Up ahead, he noticed the sign for the Sand Flat Campground that was on the lower side of the highway adjacent to the river. They’d stopped by there once before to check out the river. However, they’d never stayed at roadside campgrounds, which were typically frequented by bikers and motor homes. Owen certainly didn’t plan on doing it during the apocalypse.

Nonetheless, it would give them a chance to regroup and fill their water bottles. He eased off the highway and slowly drove down the slope toward the river. He was relieved to see that the parking lot was empty, and there weren’t any campsites in use.

“Let’s catch our breath and repack the truck. Also, we need to fill our water bottles.”

As he pulled to the bottom of the access road, Lacey asked, “Is the water safe to drink? I mean, it came from the mountains, but what if it’s contaminated?”

Lacey and Owen exited the truck, but Tucker remained behind. He stretched his arm down to the floorboard of the back seat and retrieved one of the medical kits he’d taken from the bunker’s closet. He had a hunch, so he opened it for the first time to explore its contents.

He leaned forward in the seat and hollered for his parents. “Mom! Dad! I have something that might help.”

Because he was wedged in by their duffel bags, Tucker crawled through the seats and exited the passenger-side door. He held the medical kit in one hand and a flat package labeled Health Metric in the other.

“What is it?” asked Owen as he twisted and stretched his back. Lacey had raised her right foot behind her, and she grabbed it to stretch her thigh muscles. Both of the adults were still recovering from the cramped quarters in the bunker.

“It’s a water-testing kit,” responded Tucker as he handed it to his dad.

“We’ve got something similar,” said Lacey. “I keep a TDS water-quality tester in my backpack. I don’t know if it works, though.”

“Do you mean the one in the sewing tin?” asked Owen.

Lacey took her job seriously and studied every aspect of outdoor survival. The only part she’d never covered was the aftermath of a nuclear war. This was on-the-job training at its worst.

“Yes. That tin holds all of those small tools we might need while camping but gets lost in the bottom of the pack sometimes. I can get it.” She started back toward the Bronco, but Owen stopped her.

“It’s electronic, so it might not work. Plus, it probably doesn’t test for radiation. This package indicates these test strips do.”

He opened the Health Metric package and pulled out the test strips together with the laminate card containing test results. He made his way to the creek’s edge and dipped the strip into the water. The family huddled around him, sitting on the rounded, boulder-sized river rocks, as the strip dried and the colors began to appear. After a minute, Owen held the strip next to the chart and compared the results.

“Well, assuming this thing is accurate, we’re good to go. It looks like pure Sierra Nevada spring water to me.”

Tucker knelt down to scoop some into his hands, but Lacey stopped him.

“Not so fast, mister. Let me get our Sawyers. There may not be radiation in it, but there’s other crap that can make us sick. Better safe than sorry.”

Lacey jogged back to the truck and retrieved their Sawyer MINI water filtration system consisting of a drinking straw, a sixteen-ounce reusable pouch, and a cleaning plunger. Small and lightweight, it performed the same function as a LifeStraw commonly used by survivalists. It removed all bacteria like salmonella, cholera, and E. coli . She liked the Sawyer because it could filter up to a hundred thousand gallons each.

The family thirstily took in the cold, fresh water and then worked together to fill their containers. Tucker passed out an MRE bar to each, and they choked it down, commenting the stale form of nourishment tasted like unflavored toothpaste slathered on cardboard.

After repacking the truck to provide Tucker a place to sit more comfortably, they continued toward South Lake Tahoe just as snow flurries mixed with ash began to fall around them.

Sunday, October 27

Fairfax, Virginia

“Jackie, you’re not going with me.” Peter was being polite but firm as the two argued in the hallway leading to the apartment’s bedrooms. “You’ve got your family to take care of, and I don’t wanna be responsible for you getting hurt.”

She stood tall, fists firmly planted on her hips, adopting a defiant stance that was as strong as the granite on Mount Rushmore.

“You’re not gonna risk your life for my grandmother by yourself. Besides, I know the neighborhood and the store.”

“Every CVS is the same,” Peter shot back. “Nice try, though.”

“You need somebody to have your back. I’ll have Mamaw’s gun and—”

Peter burst out laughing. “No way. No freakin’ way!”

Jackie scowled, her expression barely discernible in the dimly lit hallway. “What? I can handle myself.”

“Have you ever shot somebody? Hell, have you even fired that thing?” Peter walked toward the living room and then turned around and spoke in a loud whisper. “Not gonna happen.”

“You’re right, I haven’t. But they won’t know that. You know, the gangbangers runnin’ around lookin’ to empty the store.”

“They’ll know, trust me. Do you even know how to hold it?”

“Yes! I know how to hold it.”

Out of frustration, Peter pulled his 1911-style, nine-millimeter pistol from the paddle holster inserted into the waistband of his pants. He took it by the barrel and thrust it toward Jackie.

“Show me!”

She took it by the grip, placed her finger on the trigger, and pointed it at him.

“Jesus!” exclaimed Peter as he grabbed her by the wrist and pointed her arm upward.

“You keep His name out of your argument!” shouted Asia from the living room.

“Jackie, this is what I’m talking about. Never put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. You’ve got to have a better grip on the pistol. The first shot may come close, but the next couple are gonna fly over their heads.”

“Then show me how, frat boy,” demanded Jackie as she relinquished the gun to Peter. “It’ll take us twenty minutes to walk over there. I can learn all I need to know.”

Peter holstered his weapon and stormed back into the living room, leaving Jackie alone in the hallway. He looked at Asia, who seemed to be enjoying the exchange.

“Is she always like this?” he asked.

The answer came from a different direction. “You ain’t seen nothin’, mister.” It was the oldest of the three young children.

“That’s the truth,” added Asia. “I pity the boyfriends she unloads on. She don’t take crap from anybody.”

“Especially a frat boy,” Jackie added, who’d appeared behind Peter without him realizing it.

Asia picked up her gun and offered it to Jackie. The young woman took it and shoved it in the waistband of her jeans. Then Asia addressed Peter.

“You can tell her no, but no sooner than you walk out that door, she’s gonna be right behind you. You might as well take her along.”

“Geez,” mumbled Peter. Asia raised her finger to him as a form of warning. He grimaced and then asked, “Do you have a car? We need a pry bar or a lug wrench with a flat side.”

Asia replied, “We’ve got a Ford Taurus. Jackie said it doesn’t work.”

Her granddaughter nodded and retrieved the keys off a foyer table. “I pushed the button on the key thing, and it wouldn’t unlock.”

The Taurus was an older model that still used a key to unlock the doors and turn on the ignition. Despite the fact the electronics were likely fried from the EMP, the trunk should open with the car’s key.