2 July 2012
My sources are telling me that any day we may be hit with a solar apocalypse, an event worse than Carrington in 1859. If I am unable to tell you in person some of what you must know, I’m writing this down, so that you will have it.
Read After The Solar Apocalypse…
I left you pretty well prepared with supplies for what will happen immediately and sometime after the apocalypse. However, more important is how you will mentally and physically prepare for the new realities you are about to face. There is no way you would be aware of what will most likely happen after the first 30 days, much less the first 300 days, unless you have been through this before or truly thought it through like I have. This is the purpose of the next few pages; it’s my way of helping you prepare for the coming days.
First, it is important to keep this in mind. Our homes on the beach of Rocky Point were never intended for long term survival. It is true that I have stocked close to two years’ worth of food and water for me, Fernandez, and your family. However, you will not be there that long, that is if you want to live. I know we all have these idyllic thoughts of retirement on the beach, but those thoughts work only if civilization hasn’t collapsed or you are completely cut off from civilization. When the solar apocalypse occurs, neither will apply here at Rocky Point. Subsequently, RP will not be a pleasant place to be even 10 days after the proverbial shit hits the fan. Don’t worry; I have made provisions for you elsewhere: just continue reading.
Most important in all this is your mental preparations. If you are reading this immediately after the apocalypse has occurred, you have a little time, as most will be dealing with the shock of the event and all will believe that normalcy will return: Of course it will not, nor will it ever return in your life times. You will be inclined to try and stay in RP and ride it out. But that will be impossible. It pains me to think that each of you will need to reach a mental place of utter desolation before you will be able to accept that it is time to bug out. I just pray that you will not have to experience all of this without me. If I am not there, get ready.
Just as the Bible speaks about the many signs that will be revealed during the “end days,” you too will see many signs that your time in Rocky Point is at an end, and you will need to leave. Here are some of those signs and my recommendations for each.
When the food is gone
When I served a tour in Iraq, I witnessed something that changed my whole view about what regular people are capable of doing if they are desperate and hungry. My unit came across a small village in Kurdish territory that had been pillaged by one of the local terrorist factions. This village was waiting for help from their government that never came. It was thirty or more miles to the next village in the middle of the dead Iraqi desert. When we arrived, the villagers were fighting each other for the last few scraps. One villager, who was well liked by everyone, walked to his elderly neighbor’s house and stabbed her to death to take the last small piece of bread she had so that he could feed his young son and daughter who were starving.
It won’t take long, maybe 10 to 20 days. When the food runs out everywhere, people, it might be your neighbors, will turn to violence to feed their bellies. Desperation will motivate the meekest person to commit the most heinous act of violence. Desperation for the plight of one’s family or friends could turn anyone into a killer. Some person, but most likely a group, will come to you demanding food, and if you don’t give it to them, they will attempt to use force to take it from you. Be ready, because this day will come, and it will come soon.
25.
Food Fight
“Bill King? Bill King, are you in there? I want to speak with you,” a familiar voice demanded outside on their patio.
Bill, in the kitchen with Lisa, pulled his gun from his scabbard and approached the left side of the open sliding patio door, using the wall as cover. He felt some assurance from his two trusty companions: paranoia and his .45. They were forever by his side since he’d had to kill the drug dealer who had been out to get Max and his family on the day of the Event.
Carefully, he peeked around the wall; it was Clyde Clydeston, standing at the foot of their beach access stairs, with at least two others. “What can I do you for, Clydeston?” he called back in a dry voice, even though his heart was racing. Bill stood half obscured by the wall, his gun pointed at the ground, but in plain view of Clydeston and his group.
“King, I don’t want to make any trouble for you, but you need to give us some of your food!” One of the three was Judas the pervert. Clydeston looked to be the leader. The bluster in his voice grew more pronounced. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know your idiot friend Thompson gave you food. It is time you shared the wealth with your neighbors."
Clydeston started to ascend the Kings’ beach access stairs, a revolver in one hand, his two supplicants tentatively following behind him. The pervert brought up the rear, carrying a knife, acting as if that wide-brimmed hat hid his identity, and… Scott Smith?
My God, this was happening just as Max had said on the day of the Event.
Shock and fear fought an emotional battle within Bill for supremacy, and shock was winning. Two of these people (not the pervert) had been to dinner at their home, and were now making demands and threatening violence against them—after barely a month?
This had to stop now. He leveled his gun toward Clyde, prepared to at least fire a warning shot and make his own demands, when he heard a voice to his right. “Freeze right there, Clyde,” Lisa roared in a tone of authority he had never heard from her before.
Bill’s head spun. Lisa now held his attention and that of the others as well. She was standing on the other side of the open patio door, aiming one of Max’s M4 rifles right at Clyde, using the doorway to steady herself.
“I mean it, Clyde. I will have no problem dropping you where you stand.” Her voice and posture, clearly visible to all, made clear her intention.
Bill was filled with both pride and fear for his wife, standing in the open as she was. That door frame wouldn’t do much if shots were fired.
“Hold on Lisa, we were just coming to talk,” Clyde pleaded, stopping on the third step, shoving his revolver into his pocket and holding his hands out in a plaintive gesture. He hadn’t expected that from her.
Bill jumped in, his Colt aimed again, this time at Clyde’s torso. “Right, that’s why you’re making demands while carrying a gun and Judas there is holding a knife.” Judas was so startled at being recognized, thinking his hat hid him, he dropped his knife in the sand.
Lisa nodded toward the beach. “We’ll make it simple. Turn around and leave right now and I won’t shoot a hole in your smug face.”
“Come on. We were friends once, you know, before the power went out,” Clyde said, his false grin wide and inviting. He spoke very casually, like he was trying to persuade them to come out for a beer and cigars. He turned his head almost imperceptibly and whispered, “Scott, you go around the front to the other side and take that bitch and her husband by surprise.”
Scott Smith sported bushy red whiskers, the unchecked facial hair now the norm for most men. His face wore a pained look of indecision. He tugged at the back hem of his torn black T-shirt that declared I Got Wrecked at the Reef in Rocky Point.