Joshua Gayou - Commune - The Complete Series - A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Box Set (Books 1-4)

“No, I’m good,” Billy called back from the truck. “I’d rather you wear it.”

They ascended the three steps up to the front porch of the cabin, both bent over their weapons. Billy pointed over to a window to the left of the door that had been boarded up with a scrap of plywood; I assumed this was how entry had been gained. Billy tried the handle on the front door and, finding it locked, extracted a bundle of keys from his pocket, and inserted one of them into the lock. He looked up to Jake, who nodded. Billy swung open the door and pulled back to make way for Jake, who stormed into the house muzzle first. Billy went in directly behind him with his shotgun out in front.

I spent the next several minutes outside next to the Jeep straining my ears for the sound of gunfire. At one point I turned to look at Elizabeth who stared back out at me through the window with her saucer eyes. I mouthed the words “lay down” to her while motioning with my hand. She threw herself down on the back seat like she was hiding from a grenade.

My attention was pulled back by the sound of the front door opening; Jake and Billy had exited the house and were making their way over to the other building. They stopped at the front and examined both sides of the giant roll-up door that spanned the structure. Billy shrugged, and they came back to meet with me.

“We all good?” I asked as they came back.

“Someone’s been through here for sure,” said Billy. “They’re gone now, though. Can’t say how long since they were here, but that fire pit is pretty old. Maybe they were just passing through.”

“Did it look like they left anything behind?” I asked. “Any new stuff lying around in there that you didn’t recognize? Anything someone might come back for?”

“Hard to say but not that I could tell,” answered Billy. “The beds were slept in, and some of the trash cans were stacked pretty high. A lot of stuff has been moved around. Much of it looks like it had just been left in place. I suppose that could mean someone meant to come back but I just don’t know. I don’t know if I’d tidy up a place that I had just spent some time in for a few nights while passing through.”

“I sure would,” I said. “Rude assholes.”

“Well, we probably just keep our eyes open a few weeks. If anyone does come through, we’ll deal with it then,” said Jake.

“Good news is they didn’t get into the garage. That’s where the important stuff is,” Billy said, turning to look back that way. He heaved a sigh that rolled through his whole body, clearly relieved to have arrived. “I think we’re good. Why don’t you guys pull the cars around the side and I’ll give you all the tour?”

He met us out on the front porch by the door: Lizzy standing between Jake and me with our rifles slung over our shoulders. “Come on in,” he said and opened the large door wide.

The log home, which looked impressive from the outside, looked even more so from the inside. Everything about the place screamed “Mountain Man.” It was all log and beam construction with wood floors spreading out in all directions with thick, rich rugs laid out at various intervals. A staircase led upstairs immediately off the entryway. To the right of the stairs was a hallway leading past what appeared to be one or more bedrooms; to the left of the stairs was a great room appointed with dark leather seating and a large stone fireplace. Past the front room and entryway, a dining area could be seen all the way toward the rear of the house; I presumed the kitchen would be located there as well.

“There are two bedrooms upstairs, a loft, and a couple of bathrooms,” he said. “Down here are the common areas, kitchen, another couple of bedrooms with a shared bathroom, and a den at the back of that hallway.”

“Quite a few bedrooms for one, no?” asked Jake.

“Well, it was all part of the floor plan when I had the place built,” Billy said as he leaned on the staircase rail. “I wanted the extra space because I would often bring friends or family and their children up here on vacation. You’ll see—one of the downstairs rooms has a row of bunks rather than a standard bed.”

“So… den?” I asked. “Is that the library?”

“Yes, that would be the same thing, you smart aleck. Why—you want to see it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s been built up so much in my mind now. I sure would hate for it to fall short,” I said while poking him in the bicep.

He curled his arm up in defense of my index finger, tucking it in tight to his side like a chicken wing. He stared at me a moment with a mock-offended expression and then began to laugh despite his best efforts to restrain himself. “You… you really are a little smartass, aren’t you?”

“C’mon, Pops,” I said. “Let’s go have a look at it. Lizzy, come see. Make sure you have your library card!”

“Damned relentless…” Billy muttered as he led the way down the hall. Elizabeth and I followed with Jake bringing up the rear. “This is good,” Billy said as he entered the room and turned around. “There are some things in here that I wanted you to see.”

The room was not what I expected at all. I was expecting something like a converted bedroom with a few bookcases lining the walls, maybe a corner desk, but it was nothing like that. The space itself was larger than the family room in our old apartment back in Sandy. Shelves spanning from floor to ceiling wrapped around the entire room, broken only by two large vertical windows on the outside wall and another stone fireplace that was one third the size of the one in the great room. A wooden executive desk dominated the rear of the den, positioned directly in front of the windows. The best example I can bring to mind that describes the feel of the room was Don Corleone’s office in The Godfather—only filled with books.

“So what do you guys see in here?” asked Billy.

“How much did this place cost, anyway?” asked Lizzy, looking around the room. The outburst was a bit embarrassing, and I may have given her a swat on the shoulder.

“That’s… that’s actually not what I meant,” said Billy. “Take a close look at some of these titles.”

Jake went over to one of the shelves and started browsing through the books. He stared at the spine of one for several seconds, his mouth working silently, and then said, “I’ll be…”

“What is it?” I asked. He waved me over and pointed at a row of books. I started to read the titles out loud. “Bushcraft 1… How to Stay Alive in the Woods… Build the Perfect Bug Out Bag… Survival Medicine Handbook. Holy crap, all of this is about survival?”

“No,” said Billy. “Just that section. I’ve been collecting for years now. How-to guides, manuals, references. This stuff covers everything from electrical repair to engine rebuilding. There are books on tanning animal hide—hell, several books on processing the whole damned animal. One of those even tells you how to make glue out of animal hide. There are books on subsistence farming, carpentry, welding. I even have guides on primitive blacksmithing. I’m not saying I thought of everything, of course, but this is a good start. Anything we discover that needs to be done; there’s a good chance I’ve put a book in here that will give us some ideas.”

“Is all of this just a bunch of reference material?” Jake asked. “Don’t you have anything that you read for pleasure?”

“Oh, sure,” Billy said. “Those two sections there behind the desk are loaded with novels. Also on the other side of the window are a lot of classics and antiques. Here, look,” he said, walking over to a shelf to the right of the desk. He tipped out a book about four inches thick. “See? The Iliad.”