Anthony Newman - American Survivor

Joe pulled his flashlight out of his pack and drew his revolver before walking into the opening. The opening was only four feet high, so he kept the flashlight, and his pistol pointed ahead of him as he slowly advanced into the darkness. There was a foul odor springing from the cave. Joe stopped and tied his handkerchief over his nose so he could proceed. After ten feet the ceiling sloped upward, and just as he could stand up, Joe saw the first bear and then saw several others. It was still winter, and he had walked into a den of hibernating bears. He slowly backed out of the cave and made a beeline straight down the hill. He made two mental notes. The first was to stay away from sleeping bears. The second was the location of an abundant food source if things ever get rough, he could kill and eat the bears.

He walked west until he saw water cascading down the rocks into a pool below, which fed a small creek that wound its way down the hillside. He walked along the creek bank until he arrived at a pool where the hillside ended, and the level spot allowed the water to pool then fall over a rock ledge to flow on down to the valley below. He was deep in thought about this being a great spot to swim when the water warmed. He was brought out of his daydream when he saw several human footprints mixed in with a dog’s prints. The human prints were too small for a man, and he thought they had to be a woman’s or a child’s footprints. He knew they weren’t very old but didn’t know enough about tracking to see they were only a day old.

Joe knew that people hiked in the public forests and perhaps someone had strayed down the hill following the stream. He walked on down to the other side of the valley through a large meadow and then walked back west in the tree line so he wouldn’t be seen if there were people around. He got closer to the path to the cabin and walked further east until he turned north. Then he climbed up a slope to a vantage point where he pulled out his binoculars and gazed at the city of Ashland below.

Even after three days, the fires started by the plane crashes still threw off thick black smoke. Joe was shocked to see fires raging at several large buildings that he thought had been located at the Mall of Ashland. He also saw a massive fire that he thought was at the University of Southern Oregon. Joe saw these things and felt sorry for those people, but it didn’t register with him that this was the end of the world. He scanned the skyline and saw billowing clouds of smoke above Medford and then packed his binoculars and headed back to the safety of his cabin.

The sun was setting in the west, and it was already dark and much colder in the woods around the cabin. He walked up the steps, looked for any trace of visitors, and saw none. He decided then to bring sand from the nearby creek and spread it on the deck and patio so he could see if anyone had been snooping around. He made it a habit from then on to smooth out the sand before entering or leaving the cabin.

Joe started a fire in the fireplace for the first time since he had been at the cabin. The warmth of the fire made him feel good as he read several of the survival books that evening. He loved the smell of the wood smoke but knew the cancer rates in the new world would skyrocket. Before turning in for the night, he added several more logs to the hearth and checked to make sure the fire screen was in place.

He woke up the next morning to a chill in the air and hated to get out of his sleeping bag. He didn’t want to use the propane for heat and would keep it solely for cooking. He quickly changed his hygiene habits to fit his new lifestyle and decided he would only bathe every third day. He could stand the odor, and it wasn’t like there were any hot chicks around to impress. He applied his deodorant before dressing and said aloud, “Holy crap. Where will I get deodorant?”

No one answered, and then he said, “It’s okay to talk out loud. What’s not okay is answering yourself. Then again, who can better understand my problems, than me?”

Joe opened a can of Spam, sliced off two thick slabs, and placed them between two crackers for breakfast. He walked outside still munching on one of his Spam sandwiches when he saw dog tracks in the sand on the front porch. Before he had time to think a chocolate colored Lab ran onto the deck and begged for a bit of Joe’s breakfast. He tore off a small piece, and the dog took it from his hand and quickly swallowed the meat and cracker. Joe wondered if the dog was the same one whose tracks were at the creek on the east side of his property. He checked the dog’s collar, and it had Bennie and a phone number to call if the dog was lost.

Joe played with Bennie for a while and gave him half a can of Spam. The dog was hungry and gobbled the food down in seconds then unexpectedly left running into the woods. Joe was all alone, and the dog had been good company.

“Mom, Bennie disappeared this morning. I’m going to call for him to come home.”

Cobie was deep in thought when she heard her daughter yell, “Bennie.”

Cobie ran outside and admonished Cloe for yelling, “Baby, someone could hear you and come searching for us. Please don’t do that again. Bennie will come back when he’s through chasing rabbits. I hope he catches one, so we don’t have to keep feeding him.”

“Mom, we can’t let him starve.”

Cobie steeled herself and said, “Baby, we have to survive ourselves, or there won’t be anyone to take care of Bennie. If you stop feeding him, he will find game and eat like dogs have eaten for millions of years.”

The dog’s ears perked up, and he ran off into the woods at the same time Joe thought he heard a faint voice coming through the woods. He waited for a few minutes with his ear cocked toward the woods to the east but didn’t hear anything, so he went back into the cabin and made a list of tasks to perform and another list of things to fetch from town.

Joe looked at his task list and saw he needed a bunch of car batteries for his solar energy generator’s storage. He didn’t want to run into town but remembered there were stalled cars that would never run again. He saw hundreds of stalled cars in Ashland but didn't want to risk going into town, but he knew there was a small strip mall close to where Dead Indian Road dead-ended into Highway 66 on the east side of Ashland.

Joe strapped on his .44 Magnum, placed a Glock 17 — 9 mm pistol in his coat pocket, and set his 12 Gauge shotgun behind the driver’s seat. He then retrieved a tool bag from the basement that had the tools he needed to get the batteries He placed it in the Bronco before heading into town.

There wasn’t anyone on the road, and it only took a few minutes for Joe to arrive a block from the strip mall. He parked the Bronco behind a car wash bay beside a large truck and used his binoculars to look for any dangers. He didn’t see any people so he used a siphon hose to fill his jerry can twice. He dumped the first can into the Bronco to top it off and then placed the full can back on its rack.

The stores had been looted and all of their windows broken; a few were burned. Joe was pleased to see that except for a few with broken windows, the cars and pickups were intact. He went back to the car wash and drove on to the strip mall’s parking lot. He didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary, so he cut the battery cables and hold down clamps and quickly removed eight batteries from late model cars. He placed the batteries in the back of the Bronco and sped back up Dead Indian road thinking he had escaped anyone’s notice.

Joe didn’t see the men watching from the hillside and didn’t waste any time getting back to the cabin. He would have been frightened if he had heard the men’s conversation.