William Weber - Surviving America's Collapse

Diane’s experience in the last days of Willow Creek with Patty Long’s improvised medical clinic had honed her ability to clean and dress wounds, even remove bullets. Over the last year, John had also stockpiled enough peroxide, clean bandages, basic medical instruments (scalpels and dressing pliers) as well as QuikClot to open their own hospital ward.

With food, security and medical largely taken care of, the next item to be addressed was water. Last fall, John had installed a thousand-gallon water storage tank. It had a hose and hand pump designed to pull the water in the event of a grid-down situation. There was also a rainwater collection system that would add water back to the tanks or alternatively store it in external fifty-gallon drums. A few drops of bleach per gallon could be used on the rainwater if needed, but the water in the thousand-gallon storage tank was clean to drink. It would also double as their bathing and dish water. With so many of them now living under one roof, the discussion about water had been more about usage. As long as it rained the tank would be replenished. In a worst-case scenario, the many streams in northern Tennessee would do the trick, one of which ran a hundred yards behind the cabin.

John had just finished checking the eavestroughs and cleaning out the fifty-gallon drum when he noticed Emma by herself, filling a sandbag. Sandbag was a misnomer since the bags weren’t really filled with sand, they were filled with hard-packed dirt. The reason was a simple one; there wasn’t a sandpit nearby. But these would do for now. Nevertheless, John was proud of how hard Emma was working.

He went over and offered to give her a hand.

“Sure,” she said, not looking up.

“How you getting along with our guests?” he asked, grinning to himself.

“Fine.”

“Not better than fine?”

She fought a smile. “Okay, really fine.” She looked like she was about to say something, perhaps about how much she hated having to give up her room, and then thought better of it. “What about you?” Emma asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him.

John glanced over at Tim and Brandon sawing a fallen tree to make firewood and kindling. “I won’t lie. Way better than I thought I would.” And the two of them burst into laughter, equal parts humor and exhaustion. “Our family’s been living this lifestyle for a while now. They still have a lot to learn, but they’re willing. Thankfully, they aren’t like most people who try and take the reins when they don’t know where they’re going. It takes a strong person to lead and a wise person to know when it’s time to follow. I’m happy Tim and his family seem to know the difference.”

There was a long pause as Emma went back to filling her sandbag and then stopped and glanced up at him. “I’m sorry, Dad. I wasn’t trying to put the family in danger. After all the lights went out and the cars stopped I knew it was serious, just like you’d always said. I thought if things got crazy, Brandon and his family could maybe meet us up here. I never thought they’d come on their own.”

“Or tell half the neighborhood.”

She shook her head.

“That’s the problem with letting go of a secret,” John said, scooping up some dirt and dumping it into the bag. “You never know how far it might spin out of control.”

“Do you think we’re safe here, Dad? I mean really safe, once and for all?”

John was about to say yes when the stillness was shattered by two shrill whistle blasts.

The sounds from the whistle came streaking up the path from the road. Tim and Brandon dropped the wood they were piling and ran in that direction. John rushed to the cabin and grabbed both AR-15s and three extra magazines. When he emerged from the cabin Diane, Kay, Emma and Natalie were moving toward the gravel path. Diane had her Beretta 9mm unholstered and in the low ready position.

“Where’s Gregory?” John asked.

Diane shrugged fearfully. “I thought he was with you.”

“Listen, you three stay in the cabin and lock the door. If anyone you don’t know approaches, shoot them.”

John then hurried toward the road. Two short blasts meant a large group of individuals were moving toward the property.

There was shouting up ahead and John picked up speed. When the scene came into view his heart leapt with fear. Swallowing hard, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

A large group of people on foot, some of them dragging carts and small wagons, were approaching the fallen tree that blocked the path. Gregory, Brandon and Tim were on this side of the tree, telling them to turn back. For all the security work they’d done, there was only a single pistol between the three of them. If John hadn’t brought the ARs they could very easily have found themselves outgunned.

The crowd wasn’t listening to Tim’s demands that they leave. John shouldered one of the ARs and fired the other one into the air. The crack drew everyone’s attention. A second later the rifle was in the high ready position, John’s finger beside the trigger guard. The next time he touched the trigger, people would be dying.

Tim spun in time to catch the AR that John tossed to him. The ragtag group frozen now on the gravel path didn’t look all that dangerous. If anything, John guessed they were part of the massive horde they’d seen lumbering down the interstate a few days back.

“This is private property,” John warned them. “I’m giving you all three seconds to turn around and leave before I open fire.” Even though they didn’t look particularly dangerous, this was a big group and in a moment like this John’s charity had its limits. He’d seen plenty of selfless acts repaid by more hungry mouths when word began to spread that a veritable soup kitchen had opened up. The Applebys were the only tenants he was willing to take at the moment.

“They’re gonna kill us,” a little girl said.

“I won’t harm anyone so long as you turn around and get off my property.”

“She didn’t mean you,” a woman with dark stringy hair told him.

“What’s she talking about then?”

The woman picked the little girl up and began walking away at a brisk pace.

“Hey,” John called out after them, but they didn’t turn.

He handed his AR to Gregory. “You boys keep an eye on me. If any funny business happens, start shooting and I’ll cut left to avoid your fire.”

Tim and Gregory nodded.

John then hopped over the fallen three and jogged down the path toward the woman.

“Miss, I can trade you some water and a tiny bit of food if you tell me what happened to your group.” John wasn’t just being a concerned citizen. If a group of bandits were in the area, this was something he needed to know about.

“Thank you, but please hurry, we need to find a safe place before they return.”

John made a hand signal to Gregory who gave his rifle to Brandon and took off running up the path to the cabin.

“They?”

“We were in a large group heading for Oneida when we were attacked by men in pickup trucks. They stole our food and water and killed dozens. Everyone fled in a panic, running in every direction. I don’t know how many survived.”

“Those men who attacked you. How many were they?”

The woman blinked hard, as though reliving the horror. “I couldn’t tell. More than fifteen. It all happened so fast.” She started to cry and John tried to comfort her. Gregory showed up a minute later with a plastic bottle of water and half a loaf of bread. He handed it to the woman who thanked them both.

“Is there anything else you can tell me?” John asked.

She clutched the young girl to her chest. “Whenever my mind settles his horrible face is all I can see.”