Anthony Newman - American Survivor

He then went to the pantry and found it empty, so he found the broom closet and hit pay dirt. There were cartons of toilet paper, feminine hygiene products, and hand soap. He filled his tote bag to the brim and headed back to the clubhouse to drop his treasure and make another run into town for food. He heard a sound in the dining room and fell to the floor.

He couldn’t figure out what the noise sounded like but he was confident someone had followed him into the restaurant, and he knew there would be a fight. He decided to confront whoever was making the sound and perhaps scare them away without anyone dying this night.

“I’ve got a gun. Leave, and I won’t have to shoot you,” Joe yelled.

He heard a sound behind him that scared him and turned to see a dog lying at his feet.

“Rover you scared the crap out of me. Boy, you look skinny. You need to learn how to hunt rabbits,” he said as he noticed the rope trailing behind the poor animal.

Joe cut the rope and got back to his search for supplies. He didn’t find anything of interest, so he headed out the back door toward the golf course. He didn’t see anyone out, but a few dogs barked in the distance, and there was gunfire north of him as he walked back to the clubhouse. Madison wasn’t in sight, but there were several piles of household supplies, hygiene products and several bottles of whiskey in her collections. He heard a sound behind him and turned to see Madison hauling more supplied to the room.

“I’m going to a doctor’s office just across Highway 5 and another restaurant, and I should be back before 4 am. That will still give us plenty of darkness, and we will head home with what we can carry. Hide what you want to save for another trip. This dog followed me back from the restaurant, he’ll keep you company. I’ll be right back,” Joe said to Madison as he left the room.

She said, “Be careful Joe. I’m starting to like you.”

Joe walked across Highway 5 in front of the Mexican restaurant and headed to the doctor’s office he had seen while shopping in Ashland. The office windows were shattered; the glass doors had been rammed by a log that still lay in the doorway. Joe entered the building with his gun drawn to see a mess of office furniture and computers strewn around on the floor. He went into the exam rooms and found they had also been tossed by someone who probably wanted drugs and not medical supplies. He found bandages, antibiotics, and a plethora of medical supplies that had been thrown on the floor by the looters.

He opened the door to the Doctor’s office, and a rotten smell of death poured out of the room. A quick glance showed the doctor lying on the floor with his head bashed in and a pool of dried blood around him. Joe closed the door and left the building with his bag full and a sincere desire to wipe that memory from his mind.

The next restaurant was a steakhouse, and again he only found spices and hygiene products; however, he did find a Glock 17 and a box of bullets in the manager’s desk.

With his bags full, he headed back to the clubhouse to collect Madison and their booty so they could make the long hike back up the mountain. It was four o’clock, and they had an hour and a half to be in the woods and on their way to safety before it started getting light outside. Joe walked quickly across Highway 5 and past the restaurant on his way back to the golf course thinking the mission had at least gotten Madison off his back and would improve the taste of their food.

Joe felt the hair on the back of his neck stiffen as he entered the front door to the clubhouse but couldn’t put his finger on what bothered him. He slowly turned around and saw the issue. There were tire tracks on the outdoor carpet in front of the main entrance. They weren’t there before. He looked around and saw the hat he’d given Madison to wear that day. He looked about outside, and then he entered the clubhouse to search for her. The supplies had been sorted, and she had selected the items to go with them but had not hidden the rest as discussed. She was nowhere to be found as he searched each room.

He went down the stairs to the locker rooms and entered the lady’s locker room. He shined his flashlight around and saw the dog dead on the floor with a bullet wound in its side. The fact that Madison had been killed or kidnapped didn’t hit Joe until he saw the dead dog. He flew into a rage and beat his hand on the mirror on the door breaking the mirror and cutting his hand in three places.

He sat down on a bench and sobbed for the first time in many years. Losing his best friend, his Grandma dying, the end of the world, and now losing the only friend he had walloped him in the gut, as nothing had ever hurt him before. He was mad at the people who took her as well as himself for not knowing what to do to save her or for that matter where to start. He didn’t love Madison but she was one more thing life had taken from him, and it was the last straw.

He drew his gun and looked at it while contemplating the impossible when he heard a voice in his mind.

Dear Joe:

Grow a pair of balls and yank yourself up by the bootstraps. Don’t let them win. Make a plan, go get Madison, and kill those fuckers.

That startled Joe back into reality, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts and holstered his 9mm. He thought about all those letters from Grandma that were left to read, gathered his loot, and headed back to the cabin to plan his next move. He knew there was no way he could stick around and search for Madison in Ashland, and his best guess was that the people who took her weren’t still in the city. He thought about how to find her without being killed the entire time he walked up the mountain.

He was back at the old cabin before he realized he had walked so far without stopping. During the walk, he decided to move back to his other cabin and dropped all his bags there on the way. The only thing that kept popping into his mind was finding the young woman and her daughter and warning them about the danger. His other thought on finding the kidnappers was that these men had a vehicle and weren’t afraid to drive around. He could stake out the intersection of Highways 5 and 66, and eventually, they would cross paths.

He thought he should find the women first to keep them from becoming victims. While he cooked his supper, he thought about where to begin his search for the women and figured that he should start at the pool in the creek and head east.

Joe woke up and immediately thought about that voice in his head, so he picked up the book of letters and thumbed his way to the back to look up suicide. The list was two pages long, and he was glad that Grandma had not thought a letter on suicide was necessary, so he tried pain and suffering. He saw the loss of a loved one and found the referenced message.

Dear Joe:

It’s now a year since you started reading my letters. You lost your best friend and me, and I hope you have recovered. I hope you have a new love interest in your life to care for you and to discuss things with you. One should never intentionally try to be alone. We are social animals and need other people. Shake off losses and work hard to move on in life but never forget the ones you love. I could say crap like “don’t cry over spilt milk,” but that doesn’t make the pain of the loss go away. I can say that you have to man up and do what it takes to survive and prosper in this mean old world. Don’t be a victim.

His sleep was fitful at best that night as he second-guessed leaving Madison alone at the clubhouse and his not being able to follow the kidnappers. Grandma’s letter helped assuage the pain, and he did feel stronger after reading the letter. He thought about the letters and wanted to be as good a person as his grandma had been and still was thanks to the letters.