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The roundup had begun.
Reluctantly, he slid into bed and tried to fall asleep, in vain. He thought about his get home bag, about the fact he had been dragging his feet on repacking it. Finally, he decided he would repack it when his last order of gear arrived so that he wouldn’t have to repack it once again.
Unfortunately, that was not a good decision. The get home bag basically was a very light version of his bug out bag, which he kept packed and stored in his bedroom.
Get home bag contents were:
Permanent Gear:
Water purification in the form of Polar Pure Iodine crystals
Waterproof Matches, 2 Butane Lighters, Magnesium Fire starter
Dryer Lint in a medicine bottle (tinder)
1 folding knife, Mora knife & sheath
Garden Trowel
Folding pruning saw
80’ 550 paracord
4 large HD Contractor style trash bags
10 ea. 18” black nylon wire ties
15’ of brown duct tape, wrapped around 1 water bottle
4 mil sheet of clear plastic for ground cloth or expedient solar still, 7’ x 4’
US Woodland poncho
Mylar “Space Blanket”
Camo cotton work gloves
Tin can “Candle stove”
20 Tea Candles
Heineken Can cooking pot and storage sock
2 ea. 1 Qt. Powerade Water bottles (946 ml)
Recycled Campbell's “microwaveable” soup bowl
Camping Spoon and Fork
Small medical kit
1 roll Toilet Paper, flattened
Finger nail clippers
Floss, toothbrush
Pin on Compass
Mini-Mag flashlight with LED conversion, holster, red lens and 4 extra batteries
A .38 Special, Taurus 5 shot revolver with 3” barrel, loaded
7 each three meal ration packs.
Seasonal Gear:
Summer:
U.S. Poncho liner
4 pair cotton socks
2 cotton tee-shirts
2 cotton briefs
Insect Repellent
Insect Head net
Winter:
Wool Blanket
3 pair wool socks
1 pair polypropylene socks
Polypropylene thermal underwear with balaclava
2 cotton briefs
Thinsulate lined gloves
Mil-surp Wool sweater, OD
This was all arranged in a small sized Alice pack, without the frame. While at work he stored it in his locker in the men’s toilet/shower/locker room. All except the handgun, which was concealed in his lunch container. He had oiled it up, stuck it in a cut down sock, and then inside 2 layers of Ziploc bags to keep out any moisture. It had worked well so far.
On a whim, he decided to add another weeks worth of rations, just in case. It wasn’t that much more weight for the added security. Much of the smaller items fit inside the cooking pot and the pot nested inside the eating bowl, so it was a fairly compact kit, if you left out the clothes.
The wool blanket was the bulkiest item which is why he had not included it yet. It made it hard to fit the pack in his locker. He would have to keep the pack in the office, where it was sure to draw notice.
Thinking these thoughts, he drifted off into a troubled sleep.
===============================================
He shook himself out of his reminiscing and added more wood to the fire. The reflector was doing it’s job very well and his feet were actually starting to warm up. The storm had let up for a bit and the wind had died down. Listening to the rain drip from the trees always sounded like stealthy footsteps, creeping softly up to surprise him when he was least prepared for it. He checked his watch and found that he had zoned out for about 3 hours.
The one item he had indulged in when creating the get home bag was hot drinks. He had a variety of teas, instant coffee, hot chocolate, bullion cubes and hot cider mix to choose from in each of his ration packs. Tea bags took up very little space so each days ration had 2 different types in it. It was a comfort to have these drinks when it was so cold and miserable one foot away from him on every side.
He poured some of the hot water from the pot into his mug and added a teabag to it: Lemon Soother, one of his favorites! Sipping on the very hot drink, he fell back into his thoughts, back to that Monday morning that led him to where he was now. The events that brought him to this current detour.
===============================================
The day had started out normally with him rolling out of bed at 4:00am, having a cup of hot chocolate and reading the headlines while he got ready to leave for work. Living only 10 minutes from work was a blessing. He shuddered to think of all those who had to spend several hours a day commuting to a city job. Sure, he could make more money if he joined the morning commute, but the thought of all that wasted time on the road, not to mention sharing the road with so many morons just turned him off. He would keep his job, the drive was worth the disparity in pay.
He left home after shutting off all the lights the kids had left on and headed off to work. His job kept him in an office most of the day, sitting behind a computer and dealing with production issues. Occasionally he would go to the lunchroom for a cup of coffee or the mail room to pick up his daily accumulation of mail. He settled in for another routine day, bothered by the feeling that something was wrong. The silence of the bloggers that he made it a habit to read each day nagged at him.
Just before break time he slipped out to use the bathroom. He had once heard that a union rep had stated that "you should always crap on company time". Every time he remembered that he chuckled to himself. “Saves on buying toilet paper.” he thought humorously. The H.R. office was located just down the hall and around the corner from his and as he walked back to his office he heard voices around the corner. “Yes, he is in today. You say you checked and he is not in his office? I know he is here, maybe he is back in his office by now. I’ll call. Just wait a moment and I will see if He is there.”
He stepped into his office and closed the door quietly, wondering who "They" were looking for. Just then his phone began ringing, freezing him motionless. He quickly stepped to the window and peeked out the blinds covering it. Outside were parked three black Suburbans with blacked out windows and what appeared to be Government plates. One was blocking his car in its parking space. He put on his coat, emptied the food from his drawers as well as his coffee cup into his lunch pack, grabbed his keys, and carefully looked out his office door. No one was in sight, but he could hear low voices around the corner.
His heart pounding, he slid out the door and quickly entered the mailroom. It had a side door from which he exited into the hallway. From there he entered the training room which gave him an unobstructed view of the parking lot. Four burly looking men in black trench coats were examining the inside of his car and the trunk. There was nothing for them to find, but they were looking anyway. Now he was scared shitless! Who were these guys and what did they want? One man’s coat flopped open in the breeze and the sight of a sub machinegun propelled him out the other door of the training room and down the hall.
“Don’t run, don’t run” he kept telling himself. He quickly walked the 150 feet through the production area to the men’s rest room. A few people smiled at him and waved. He waved back, trying to seem normal. Ducking into the rest room he retrieved his pack from the locker, stuffed his lunch pack into the little free space left in it and walked out the door. He heard the same voices again: “Yeah, I just saw him walk towards the restroom, if you hurry, you will probably find him in there.”
He darted out the back door and headed for the underbrush near the railroad tracks. Ducking down in the scotch broom, he looked back to see 2 of the pursuers exit the same door. They stood there examining every possible route of escape. Finally one spoke into his lapel, listened for a moment, and then went north around the building while the other went south.
He was shaking so much that he thought for sure that he would be spotted! Both men passed out of sight and after waiting about a minute, he snuck off through the underbrush and followed the tracks until he was well away from his place of work. That was when he heard the first helicopter and was forced to lay flat on the cold, wet ground amongst the stickers. The chopper passed over him, headed towards his place of employment, searching for him most likely.
Hunkered down in a brush thicket, he pulled his prepaid cell phone out and sent 2 quick text messages, one to each son: “To your scattered bodies go”. It was code for them to bug out and meet him at a prearranged gathering point. It was also the name of a book that he had read, written by Philip Jose Farmer. That was all he could do for now. He removed the battery and put the phone back in his pocket. He slung the pack on his back and started hurriedly down the tracks for his hometown, to C1.
Get home bag contents were:
Permanent Gear:
Water purification in the form of Polar Pure Iodine crystals
Waterproof Matches, 2 Butane Lighters, Magnesium Fire starter
Dryer Lint in a medicine bottle (tinder)
1 folding knife, Mora knife & sheath
Garden Trowel
Folding pruning saw
80’ 550 paracord
4 large HD Contractor style trash bags
10 ea. 18” black nylon wire ties
15’ of brown duct tape, wrapped around 1 water bottle
4 mil sheet of clear plastic for ground cloth or expedient solar still, 7’ x 4’
US Woodland poncho
Mylar “Space Blanket”
Camo cotton work gloves
Tin can “Candle stove”
20 Tea Candles
Heineken Can cooking pot and storage sock
2 ea. 1 Qt. Powerade Water bottles (946 ml)
Recycled Campbell's “microwaveable” soup bowl
Camping Spoon and Fork
Small medical kit
1 roll Toilet Paper, flattened
Finger nail clippers
Floss, toothbrush
Pin on Compass
Mini-Mag flashlight with LED conversion, holster, red lens and 4 extra batteries
A .38 Special, Taurus 5 shot revolver with 3” barrel, loaded
7 each three meal ration packs.
Seasonal Gear:
Summer:
U.S. Poncho liner
4 pair cotton socks
2 cotton tee-shirts
2 cotton briefs
Insect Repellent
Insect Head net
Winter:
Wool Blanket
3 pair wool socks
1 pair polypropylene socks
Polypropylene thermal underwear with balaclava
2 cotton briefs
Thinsulate lined gloves
Mil-surp Wool sweater, OD
This was all arranged in a small sized Alice pack, without the frame. While at work he stored it in his locker in the men’s toilet/shower/locker room. All except the handgun, which was concealed in his lunch container. He had oiled it up, stuck it in a cut down sock, and then inside 2 layers of Ziploc bags to keep out any moisture. It had worked well so far.
On a whim, he decided to add another weeks worth of rations, just in case. It wasn’t that much more weight for the added security. Much of the smaller items fit inside the cooking pot and the pot nested inside the eating bowl, so it was a fairly compact kit, if you left out the clothes.
The wool blanket was the bulkiest item which is why he had not included it yet. It made it hard to fit the pack in his locker. He would have to keep the pack in the office, where it was sure to draw notice.
Thinking these thoughts, he drifted off into a troubled sleep.
===============================================
He shook himself out of his reminiscing and added more wood to the fire. The reflector was doing it’s job very well and his feet were actually starting to warm up. The storm had let up for a bit and the wind had died down. Listening to the rain drip from the trees always sounded like stealthy footsteps, creeping softly up to surprise him when he was least prepared for it. He checked his watch and found that he had zoned out for about 3 hours.
The one item he had indulged in when creating the get home bag was hot drinks. He had a variety of teas, instant coffee, hot chocolate, bullion cubes and hot cider mix to choose from in each of his ration packs. Tea bags took up very little space so each days ration had 2 different types in it. It was a comfort to have these drinks when it was so cold and miserable one foot away from him on every side.
He poured some of the hot water from the pot into his mug and added a teabag to it: Lemon Soother, one of his favorites! Sipping on the very hot drink, he fell back into his thoughts, back to that Monday morning that led him to where he was now. The events that brought him to this current detour.
===============================================
The day had started out normally with him rolling out of bed at 4:00am, having a cup of hot chocolate and reading the headlines while he got ready to leave for work. Living only 10 minutes from work was a blessing. He shuddered to think of all those who had to spend several hours a day commuting to a city job. Sure, he could make more money if he joined the morning commute, but the thought of all that wasted time on the road, not to mention sharing the road with so many morons just turned him off. He would keep his job, the drive was worth the disparity in pay.
He left home after shutting off all the lights the kids had left on and headed off to work. His job kept him in an office most of the day, sitting behind a computer and dealing with production issues. Occasionally he would go to the lunchroom for a cup of coffee or the mail room to pick up his daily accumulation of mail. He settled in for another routine day, bothered by the feeling that something was wrong. The silence of the bloggers that he made it a habit to read each day nagged at him.
Just before break time he slipped out to use the bathroom. He had once heard that a union rep had stated that "you should always crap on company time". Every time he remembered that he chuckled to himself. “Saves on buying toilet paper.” he thought humorously. The H.R. office was located just down the hall and around the corner from his and as he walked back to his office he heard voices around the corner. “Yes, he is in today. You say you checked and he is not in his office? I know he is here, maybe he is back in his office by now. I’ll call. Just wait a moment and I will see if He is there.”
He stepped into his office and closed the door quietly, wondering who "They" were looking for. Just then his phone began ringing, freezing him motionless. He quickly stepped to the window and peeked out the blinds covering it. Outside were parked three black Suburbans with blacked out windows and what appeared to be Government plates. One was blocking his car in its parking space. He put on his coat, emptied the food from his drawers as well as his coffee cup into his lunch pack, grabbed his keys, and carefully looked out his office door. No one was in sight, but he could hear low voices around the corner.
His heart pounding, he slid out the door and quickly entered the mailroom. It had a side door from which he exited into the hallway. From there he entered the training room which gave him an unobstructed view of the parking lot. Four burly looking men in black trench coats were examining the inside of his car and the trunk. There was nothing for them to find, but they were looking anyway. Now he was scared shitless! Who were these guys and what did they want? One man’s coat flopped open in the breeze and the sight of a sub machinegun propelled him out the other door of the training room and down the hall.
“Don’t run, don’t run” he kept telling himself. He quickly walked the 150 feet through the production area to the men’s rest room. A few people smiled at him and waved. He waved back, trying to seem normal. Ducking into the rest room he retrieved his pack from the locker, stuffed his lunch pack into the little free space left in it and walked out the door. He heard the same voices again: “Yeah, I just saw him walk towards the restroom, if you hurry, you will probably find him in there.”
He darted out the back door and headed for the underbrush near the railroad tracks. Ducking down in the scotch broom, he looked back to see 2 of the pursuers exit the same door. They stood there examining every possible route of escape. Finally one spoke into his lapel, listened for a moment, and then went north around the building while the other went south.
He was shaking so much that he thought for sure that he would be spotted! Both men passed out of sight and after waiting about a minute, he snuck off through the underbrush and followed the tracks until he was well away from his place of work. That was when he heard the first helicopter and was forced to lay flat on the cold, wet ground amongst the stickers. The chopper passed over him, headed towards his place of employment, searching for him most likely.
Hunkered down in a brush thicket, he pulled his prepaid cell phone out and sent 2 quick text messages, one to each son: “To your scattered bodies go”. It was code for them to bug out and meet him at a prearranged gathering point. It was also the name of a book that he had read, written by Philip Jose Farmer. That was all he could do for now. He removed the battery and put the phone back in his pocket. He slung the pack on his back and started hurriedly down the tracks for his hometown, to C1.
Hey, great story, Scout! You know you're creating a monster here, right? We're demanding. Good reading is hard to find.
ReplyDeleteHi Grumpyunk!
ReplyDeleteGlad you like the story. Aside from being entertaining, I hope to draw people into the story, to see themself as the main character and review their own preperations in comparison to what the character has prepared for himself and his family.
I hope that I can accomplish this task.
Scout, this piece of "fiction" is a revelation of things to come. It should be heeded as such....
ReplyDeleteDont stop ..since hes already pulled off a "little"victory" making it pass the (I presume govt dogs)..gawd I love ppl who can think one step ahead of the govt
ReplyDeleteThis is very, very good.
ReplyDeleteMore?
As a matter of fact, I could sit down and read this whole story all at once.
ReplyDeleteAre you going to publish this?
I'll buy it.
fantastic stuff man. i will buy this stuff time and time again. you have a real talent for this man.
ReplyDeleteThanks guys!. I hadn't really thought about writing it for profit. I guess I will see how well it is recieved overall when I finish it. The next chapter will be interesting...
ReplyDeleteI know this is old, but...
ReplyDeleteThis is a good read so far. Good job tossing in usable information with the story -- it's like "stealth education"... =oD
One quibble though -- maybe even two...
First, any cop-copter's going to have FLIR. He'd shine like a spotlight on cold ground - especially if poorly dressed and thus radiating heat... Not sure what do do in such a situation -- diving into water would help hide from FLIR but would also bring on hypothermia... Food for thought...
The second one's the cell-phone. Send a txt-alert to kids? GREAT. After that, get RID of the damn thing. It WILL be used to track you - even if "turned off" and POSSIBLY give a one-time-fix even if the battery were removed.
Personally, I'd try to use it to send 'em on a wild goose chase -- tuck it into a crevise on a semi or something -- let them try to track it to wherever he's going!
HTH -- thanks again!
DD