A long Lonely Road Box Set 3 Read online

  A Long Lonely Road

  Volume Three

  Book 11- The Quest

  Book 12- All Enemies Foreign and Domestic

  Book 13- No Rest For the Wicked

  Book 14- A Troubled Land

  Book 15- A Very Bad Mistake

  By TJ Reeder

  Edited by S. Dixon

  Copyright 9/26/13

  A Note From the Author

  If you enjoy a tale as told around the camp fire with a jug of “Who Shot John” passing around, then pull up a stump and kick back.

  If you are a person who has ever in real life fired a rifle, killed an animal for its meat, gutted it, skinned it out, and built a camp fire to cook it; if you have ever rode a horse in the wilds of the high country, boiled coffee over the fire, and slept out in a blizzard; or if you’re only a person who always wanted to do these things, then please read on… and I hope you enjoy it.

  This is the story of a man in his later years who finds himself a very long way from home and hearth when the SHTF.

  It’s a tale of the drive to get home come hell or high water.

  I’m writing it about the way I myself would get home after an event. I can only hope I would do as well in real life. I have the will and the drive and know-how but maybe the ol’ body is low on fuel. Time will tell.

  And no, I didn’t finish school; in fact I’d say I have about a 6th grade education, but I have a PHD in life.

  Thank you- TJ

  A Note From the Editor

  These books have not been edited so much as ‘cleaned up enough for goin’ out in public’. The roughness around the edges have been smoothed a bit, the spelling corrected and punctuation added to facilitate reading it without causing the average brain to explode.

  The voice of the author is what you see on paper. It’s how he tells a story, and that’s the only way to read it.

  TJ is the real deal. Former Marine, ex-LEO, competitive shooter, Montanan for better than half of his life, he’s spent time living from Maine to the Mojave desert, and Alaska to Texas. He’s soldiered and camped and cowboyed and rodeoed all over this nation. So when he spins his yarns, they’re not patching together other books he’s read or ‘as seen on TV’. Most of the time he’s been there/done that and has the well-worn T-shirt to prove it.

  TJ brings a unique viewpoint to the survival genre that is half experience, half projection, and half humor to his stories. And yes, I can math. His stories are just that big. His main character is not the run-of-the-mill know-it-all Rambo or soft clueless victim of most survivalist stories, and he deals with every hardship with ingenuity, community, and humor.

  My goal was never to make the stories perfect. My goal was to make it easier to hear his voice. So ya’ll set back and relax; yer fixin’ to be entertained.

  -S. Dixon

  The Quest

  Book 11

  Sitting on the rim of the ridge in the early morning has become my favorite part of the day. I am allowed 15 minutes to myself and my coffee.

  At the end of that time Beth joins me with two beautiful babies who are still too asleep to break the silence.

  No, the silence is broken as usual by two other grumpy babies, one carrying the coffee pot and one dragging the big old quilt that they insist we all huddle under.

  Beth just smiles and surrenders the babies to the grumps who insist on nuzzling them awake which makes them yell for food which Mama Beth must provide.

  This is the daily routine never to be changed I guess, but it’s all good because we are family and a wonderful family it is.

  Our extra king-king sized bed isn’t as crowded since the girls decided that one of them should sleep in the kids’ room and handle the night time duties allowing Beth to get some sleep. The night feeding duties were made easy by the breast pump one of the village ladies offered to help with night feedings.

  And yes I know all about this stuff because I’m instructed in all aspects of it, I really like operating the breast pump!

  We sit and watch the villages across the lake come awake and soon the sails appear as the fishermen run their lines.

  Good folks and good neighbors (if living a mile or more across a lake is being neighbors), whatever- it works out.

  Six months have passed since Beth graced us with these two wonderful gifts and they have been quiet months, nobody has shot me which is a good thing.

  Wyatt and Doc haven’t shot anybody which is also a good thing. Not that they have relaxed, they spend at least an hour on the range every day shooting something.

  I should too, but in truth both of them are so much faster than me that the graves are filled in before I get my gun out. But I’m still better with a rifle; it’s good to be better with something.

  A word on the Plague. What Plague? That’s right, what plague?

  It never got here; in fact I don’t know if it ever got out of the cities it was in. I’m not even sure it was a real plague and not a super influenza. Whatever it was, it didn’t survive long enough to get here. Of course we had the area closed tighter than a tick’s ass and I know of nobody who tried to come thru our area.

  We’ve been in touch with the folks at Barstow and they had nobody come down with it.

  There were signs of it a few miles from the cities, folks lying dead where they fell but that was it and for that I will be eternally grateful to the almighty.

  After our morning coffee we had breakfast which I cooked as my way to pay for not having to sleep alone on baby duty.

  After we were done and were draining the last few drops from the big coffee pot Sandy started squirming around like she always does when she has something to say and can’t figure out how to spit it out. So I made it easy and said, “Yes”. “Yes what?” says she. “Whatever it is you want, yes.” She looked at me and said, “You know you piss me off when you give in without a fight!” “OK”, say’s I, “NO!”

  And of course that resulted in my ending up on the floor being pounded on until I rolled her over and tickled her into submission.

  This was all to the laughter of the other two and the barking of the dogs which got the kids to crying. It’s like living in a cave with wild things. Some that rattle and some that just bite. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  After I let her up Sandy cuddled up in my lap and said, “May has a problem.” So I tossed her on the floor and pulled May into my lap and said, “What’s wrong baby?” She surprised me by tearing up and my heart stopped. I just knew she was gonna say she was pregnant!

  But the gods smiled on me. She said she needed to know if her family was safe. She and her brother were raised by an aunt and a large extended family who farmed in Southeastern Washington.

  I wiped her tear always and said, “OK,when do you wanna leave?”

  She just looked at me and then said, “That’s it? Just when do I wanna leave?” “Yep” said I, “Why dick around with it? You knew we were gonna go, Sandy knew and looking at Beth I knew she did, I’m always the last to know anything.”

  May is almost as good a hugger as Beth and if I hadn’t peeled her loose I would have passed out from the choke hold. I kissed her and said, “Pack your gear, Toots. We can leave in two days.”

  This brought out a lot of girly screaming and dancing around and dog barking and baby crying. Maybe that cave would be OK? Nah.

  I said I was heading down to the communications shack to send a message to Charley which caused Sandy to ask why.

  I told them Charley and I had been planning a trip to the coast for the last few months. This was greeted with open mouths and flashing eyes.

  I for once had them! I said we had also planned to stop and check on May’s people that she had mentioned very briefl
y when we first met and I figured why not?

  I then took off down the ridge at a run. Well, ‘run’ is a bit of an exaggeration. I made it almost to the bottom before the two caught me and started in on me for making them almost beg for the trip. Uh, Beg? Excuse me? Really?

  I know when to smile and say nothing. And it really pisses them off. I’ll pay later but a small victory today is worth it!

  One nice thing about our lifestyle here in the canyon is there’s always somebody cooking something in the cooking area.

  This morning one of the ladies was making beautiful brownies! And I arrived just as she took the first batch out of the earth oven! I was alone!

  ‘They’ had gone back for Beth and the kids. I got a cup of coffee and a big brownie and sat on a stump, just in time to see an arm come over my shoulder and take my brownie! I spun around and saw Beth, she who can do no wrong, smiling as she chomped a bite out of it.

  I gave up the stump and my coffee with a flourish and headed for the brownie pan. It was empty! ‘They’ were there, as were other greedy bastards with not enough to do!

  The brownie lady smiled and said, “Poor Johnny!” and removed the next trey from another oven. I stood guard over it with my hand on my pistol, like that was gonna help, but they took pity and let me have one.

  I had just sat down when the communications girl runner came trotting up. She’s a cutie, all of maybe 9 years old. She handed me a message, snatched the brownie off my plate and was gone like smoke in a wind. Shit.

  The message was from Charley asking when we were leaving. How did he know? I looked at Sandy who had a mouth full of brownie and tried to say, “What?” around it. I give up, I’ll never know how this shit works and maybe I don’t want to know.

  They were giving the kids tiny bits of brownie which I’m sure are against all the laws of nature but I’m not gonna say anything.

  They all three looked at me and smiled that sweet little smile of pity. I hate 'em! In my head I heard voices saying “No you don‘t!” I said, “I could!” out loud and got stared at by all the other brownie moochers who had appeared, all of whom know something is going on but figure it’s just me and ‘old timers’ disease. I choose to ignore all of them which makes the ‘coven’ laugh.

  Maybe Charley and I will go to the coast and leave them all here!

  Seeing the flashing eyes I decided maybe we won’t. Yes, I’m a pussy. I’m ruled by them and yeah, the good outweighs the not so good…by a factor of 100 to .0001.

  Sandy mentions that if I’m really planning to lead a party west and north maybe I should spend more time on the range and less time napping with the babies. Now that is a suck idea but they are right. I will just get up early and shoot and save the afternoon for my baby time. They all three smile.

  I looked around for a kid to carry a message up to the communications shack, spotted the brownie thief and made a come here motion. She laughed and said, “No way, Hozay!”

  Sandy asked her and she trotted right over but kept Sandy between us- she had my brownie all around her mouth. I hate her. Even she laughed, and they are all witches, the whole bunch.

  I asked her to tell the communications operator to send a reply to Charley that we would leave here in three days, meet him at his place and leave from there. She was gone in a flash. Youth…and brownies are wasted on young people.

  The next two days were very busy. The word went out about the trip and people started showing up from every gully, wash, ravine and canyon for 40 miles around. How the word gets around I’ll never know. But the way we roll is, if ya wanna go be here when we leave, bring something that shoots and your own bed roll.

  We were taking the chopper on a lowboy and Ralph would fly birddog in his puddle jumper (still gun less despite Sandy’s best efforts).

  But one of the loudmouth old grunts (I know it was Jasper our door gunner instructor) told her how back in the day the door gunners would take pint jars and very carefully place a pin-less grenade in them and screw the lids down tight which gave them mini bombs: Toss it out, it hits the ground, the glass breaks, spoon flies, BOOM! I think she kissed him(!) and was off and running.

  Ralph tried to talk her out of putting a case of them in the plane but should’ve talked to the wind or smoke or anything else that might listen because she wasn’t.

  Then she had him fly her over her ‘bombing range’ where we all watched her tossing them out until she had it down pat.

  Now I can see where these might work out but I’d never say it to Ralph; poor long suffering Ralph who actually, secretly, is her partner in crime. He only makes loud noises to cover his ass. And we all know it but him. One day we watched her tossing out some of her bombs that blew up in a flash of fire. Somebody had suggested filling the jar with gas mixed with diesel. I doubt it would be effective but she was happy.

  Ralph was getting grayer by the day and developing an eye twitch.

  I think he’s teaching her to fly the chopper too but I’ve not seen it. I’m all for it if she don’t kill herself or bend the bird. We really should put out the word for more pilots and get a real air service back in the air. Another thing on the list.

  We ended up with more people than I had planned for but what the hell; I’m not the only one getting bored so we expand the plan.

  I don’t want to take armor but we will have plenty of armored hummers, all with guns on them. We will also take some of the ground to whatever missiles we have a lot of.

  I’ve never shot one but I know the girls have. Too many if I recall right. They see it all as their personal toy factory and require some controlling presence. If I ever find one I’ll get him or her on it. So far I just get laughed at when I ask somebody to take the job.

  By the morning of day three the six by’s are loaded as are the cargo trailers, the tanker truck is full and the hummers all have trailers loaded behind them.

  Around 200 shooters and every vehicle has a driver who can be spelled when needed by a shooter. In truth the drivers are counted as more shooters since everybody has to be qualified with small arms.

  Beth decided early on that she wanted to stay home because A) The babies were too small to be dragging around the country where a firefight might erupt at any moment and B) Beth in fact is an Earth Mother and would rather be home doing earth mommy stuff then out shooting and looting as the other two call it.

  In truth I expected her to stay home but she had to be the one who made the decision. I know I will miss her and the kids every minute, but I will handle the trip better knowing they are safe here in our happy home guarded by everybody in the area and two dogs who will eat anybody coming near if they don’t know them.

  A word on the dogs. Molly, sweet old gentle Molly who outside of Miz Sheri’s ducks has never hurt a thing and Walker who will eat anything he can chew on or that Sandy hands him, including a rusty horse shoe, had both decided the new ‘puppies’ in the house are theirs.

  And at first it was an issue that resulted in a few out and out brawls in which Molly didn’t give up anything to youth and size. In fact one time she had Walker down by

  the throat and I had to pry her jaws open. So I set them down and told them they were both going to live with Buck who won’t put up with their shit for a second. Or, they could each have one ‘puppy’ as their own to guard and wash.

  And they did! Blew me right out of my boots. Molly took Sam as we call Sandra May and Walker took over JC as we call John Charles. And all’s well.

  Well, that’s not all true. Walker, being the big tough guy he is, got too protective and once when May reached for JC he snapped at her. Before I could think I slugged him right in the mouth which rolled him ass over tea kettle and sent him running to Sandy who smacked him, told him he was bad and exiled him outside for the rest of the day. It was funny watching him pouting thru the door glass. When he was allowed in he went right to May and licked her hand, then walking wide around me went and laid by JC’s crib. Lesson learned, but anybody not of the hous
ehold or well-known will have a problem.

  We have now established just who the Alpha male is around here. ‘They’ laugh at that. I hate ‘em.

  So the family will be split up for a while and for the first time and none of us are real pleased but what can we do? I can’t and will not sit home and send others out to handle this kind of work and the girls won’t let me go alone, meaning without them. So we are faced with Beth and the kids being here.

  But I promised we were going to make it as fast a trip as possible. I figured a month would do it ‘if’ nothing happened which is like saying, “It’s OK, no problem.” Right.

  Our resident witch (AKA V) will be around checking on them as well. V is still a stranger to us in many ways and I think always will be. But she and Old Woman are lifelong friends which means a great deal. V has her own hobbit hole in a small side canyon, too small for more than her place and her herb garden.