Forsaking Home (The Survivalist Series) Read online

  “Nothing for a long, long ways.”

  “We may need to keep an eye on things for a couple of days. You still got that night vision?”

  “Yeah, I got something else we can put over here too that will help out. Let’s go back to the cabin. You’re gonna love this.”

  Back at our cabin, I started digging around in the ammo cans, looking for a silver package. When I pulled it out, I called over to Thad, “Look at this. They’re trip flares—not real big, but at night they’ll give off plenty of light, enough to get our attention.” Tearing open the package, I pulled out a box, opened it, and removed a smaller box about three inches long and an inch square.

  The small box contained a small white flare, some nails and fence staples, a spring, and a roll of trip wire. Thad looked at the instructions and then at the parts lying on the table. “That’s pretty neat. How bright is it?”

  “It’s about as bright as a small road flare.”

  Thad nodded and put the paper back on the table. “We’ll set it up after dark, so no one sees us.”

  Somewhere down the river a shot rang out. Thad and I both looked up, anticipating more. The echo faded down the river and it was quiet again. Mel stepped out of the cabin and shouted, “What was that?”

  “Jeff and Danny are out hunting gators—maybe they got one,” I called back.

  She looked off down the river for a moment, then went back inside.

  “Maybe we’ll be having gator for supper tonight,” Thad said with a grin.

  The faint sound of banging and some shouts drifted up the river. “Sounds like they’re trying to get it in the canoe,” I said.

  “Sounds to me like they already got it in and it’s trying to get out!” Thad said with a laugh.

  I started to laugh at that mental image. “Yeah, I can just see them trying to fight a gator they thought was dead!”

  “Yeah, up in the boat with ’em and it wakes up. Oh shit, it’s still alive!” Thad said, doubling over.

  We were both laughing so hard we had to sit down. We sat watching the river expectantly, waiting to see the canoe come into view.

  “How do you like it cooked?” Thad asked.

  “I’ve only had it fried, to be honest.”

  “If we have the stuff, I got something I’d like to make: a gator piquante.”

  I looked over, eyebrows raised. “What’s in it?”

  “Just peppers, onions, canned tomatoes, and seasoning, poured over a bowl of rice.”

  “Sounds good to me. I know we still have dehydrated peppers and onions, canned tomatoes too.”

  “I’ll use the Dutch oven. Should be real good, cook it slow.”

  I could see Thad was already imagining it in a bowl. His dreams of gator piquante were soon interrupted as the canoe came into view. I was surprised to see a not-so-happy Bobbie sitting in the middle seat.

  Thad gave a low whistle. “She looks pissed.”

  “I didn’t know she went with them,” I said as I started walking toward the creek.

  Jeff was sitting in the bow of the canoe, a huge smile on his face. Danny was grinning as well. Quite the contrast between those two and Bobbie. Thad called out, “How big is it?”

  “It’s at least a nine-footer!” Jeff called back.

  As soon as the bow of the boat ground to a halt in the mud, Bobbie launched herself out, and, without saying a word, headed for the cabin. As she passed, I noticed how wet she was. Looking back at Jeff and Danny, it was evident that they’d gone for a little swim themselves.

  “What happened, turn the boat over?” I asked.

  Jeff was pulling the canoe up. “Yeah, getting one of these in the boat ain’t as easy as it looks on TV.”

  “That why your wife is so pissed, Danny?”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t the getting wet part as much as the fact she thought the blood from the gator would draw others in, like sharks. You should have seen her—kinda funny, actually.”

  Once the boat was pulled up onto the shore, we looked at the big-ass lizard. It was lying in a dark pink soup, grass and debris floating around it. There was one bullet wound in the back of its head.

  “Got it with one shot?” Thad asked.

  Jeff smiled and held up his peasant rifle. “Yep, one of these was all it took.”

  “One of those is all it should take!” I laughed.

  “Oh, let’s see you do it, Morg.” He laughed. “Well, let’s get to work, I want to eat this sucker for dinner tonight,” Danny said.

  It took all four of us to drag it out of the boat.

  “Where are we going to clean it?” Jeff asked.

  “Let’s turn the canoe over and use that as a platform,” Danny replied.

  “Good idea,” I chimed in.

  Once the gator was laid out, everyone grabbed a knife and went to work. The dogs were very interested in the beast. They kept getting in our way, smelling and barking at it. Every time it moved as we worked on it, they would jump and bark more. Meathead grabbed it by the tail once and tugged. Thad had to kick him away, but it got a laugh out of all of us.

  We salvaged every piece of meat we could from the carcass. The tail and jowls of a gator are the main sources of meat, but the ribs and legs also can be edible. Legs generally aren’t used because they are very sinewy, but that can be overcome by grinding or cubing them. Fortunately, Danny had his manual grinder, which meant we would have plenty to last us.

  While I generally keep some of the internal organs, nobody else was too keen on keeping them for our use. But they wouldn’t go to waste. The heart, liver, and kidneys would be cooked and fed to the dogs, and the rest of the guts would be fed to the hogs.

  When we were done, we ended up with around seventy pounds of meat.

  “I want the skull,” Danny said as we were finishing up.

  Jeff looked up. “What for?”

  “I’m going to strip it to bone.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You know, something to do.”

  “How are you going to do that? Sounds like a tough job.”

  “Not really. I’ll boil it for a while, then set it out on an ant mound. They’ll take care of the rest.”

  Jeff’s eyebrows went up. “Sounds interesting, I’ll help.”

  “Cool,” Danny said as he ran a blade around the base of the skull, separating the head from what was left of the body.

  Thad picked up the bucket with the hog feed in it. “I’m gonna go give this to the pigs real quick.”

  “Hey, how we cooking this up tonight?” Jeff asked me.

  “Thad’s got something planned for it,” I replied.

  Jeff smiled and patted his stomach. “Can’t wait. Thad’s a master chef.”

  Mel and Bobbie were washing the meat off and putting it in buckets, when Mel gave me one of her famous looks of You need to help out and you need to help out now.

  “We have a problem,” Mel said flatly.

  I looked up, “What is it?”

  “We’re almost out of toilet paper.”

  I stood up, “Ooh, that’s not good. How much do we have left?”

  “Maybe a dozen or so rolls,” Bobbie said.

  “I was worried that this day would come. Unfortunately, ladies, there’s not much we can do. We’re going to have to stop using the TP.”

  “Stop using it?! We need to figure out how to get more! What are we going to use if we stop using it? Leaves? I’m not using leaves!” Mel said, her voice getting increasingly frantic.

  “Calm down, Mel. I have a plan for this.”

  “I hope so, ’cause I ain’t using leaves either,” Thad said with a chuckle.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, heading off to the cabin.

  Back in the day I’d read about this very issue. At the time I was studying up on various alternative methods for the issue at ha
nd, as well as many other things, just to prepare for whatever may come. Not that I ever thought anything of this magnitude would ever occur, but I’m thankful now for all those hours of reading and research.

  Most publications talked about using a bidet: not only did that not sound appealing, but under our current situation it was completely out of the question. I knew that what I came up with—something used in many other countries—was probably going to be met with some resistance. I prepared myself for the blowback.

  As I was returning, everyone, including the girls, was at the picnic table. All eyes were on me and what I was carrying. I set everything down on the table for everyone to see.

  “Okay, now I’m worried,” Danny said, picking up one of the long rubber gloves.

  “All right, boys and girls, the only option for this situation is to use a personal cloth,” I said as I picked up a washcloth. “This does a better job if you wet it first.” I took in the shocked faces of my oldest daughters. “This is done all over the world,” I said, as if that would make any difference to them.

  “Okay, but we don’t have enough washcloths saved up. They’ll be gone in the first day,” Mel said.

  I laughed. “We’ll reuse them.”

  That got a look of surprise from everyone.

  “And, uh, how exactly do we do that?” Jeff asked.

  “I’m not reusing one of those! That’s just gross,” Lee Ann added. The rest of the girls, her mom and Bobbie included, agreed with her.

  “Look, I know you guys aren’t thrilled about this—frankly, neither am I, but we don’t have a choice. We will reuse them. You just have to wash it after use.”

  That statement was met with a chorus of complaints.

  “Calm down, calm down,” I said, motioning with my hands for everyone to quiet down. “We need to save what TP we have left in case someone gets really sick. Everyone else will use the cloth, and you ladies will have two, one for number one and one for number two. When you are done with it, you’ll wash it out. There will be a bucket with a solution of this”—I held up a bag of pool shock, calcium hypochlorite—“you’ll use this with these”—I picked up one of the gloves—“to wash your cloth. There will be a second bucket of clean water to rinse with, then you hang it up to dry. This powder is essentially bleach. We’ll mix a solution of it with water, not too strong, to sanitize the cloths.”

  For a moment no one said anything, they just looked at the stuff on the table. The two girls were shaking their heads. “This is bull,” Lee Ann muttered.

  I shot her a look. “We don’t have a choice, guys, it’s what we have to do. And it’s important to clean your cloth thoroughly. We don’t want anyone to get sick,” I added.

  Again, I was met with silent stares. Thad was the one to first come to my side.

  “Beats using leaves,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  I smiled, “The only other option is to use the Seminole Indian method.”

  “The what?” Mel asked flatly, narrowing her eyes.

  “Hang on,” I said and jogged off toward the woods.

  I was smiling as I came back with my hands concealed behind my back. I rocked back and forth on my heels.

  “All right, what is it?” Mel asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “The Seminoles used this for a number of things: wound dressings, TP, several things.” As I said the last word I revealed what I’d been hiding: it was a piece of the inner fiber of the sable palm. It has an open weave and is a great source of dry tinder when nothing else can be found. It forms at the base of the fronds on the tree.

  Mel and Bobbie both immediately scowled, shaking their heads. “I’m not using that,” Bobbie quickly said.

  “Nope, me neither,” Mel added.

  “Looks like it would hurt,” Taylor said.

  Lee Ann scowled. “I’m not about to wipe my butt with that, no way.”

  I picked up one of the cloths. “Doesn’t look so bad now, does it?”

  Little Bit was standing beside me now. She picked one of the cloths up and looked at Mel. “Mommy, I have to go now. Can I try it?”

  I looked at her, then at Mel, and smiled. “Our first customer.”

  Mel rolled her eyes and took her by the hand, headed for the outhouse.

  “I’ll get the bleach mixed up, and bring it and the rinse water over,” I said.

  “Well, I’m going to start dinner,” Thad said. He was met with a chorus of agreement. “Miss Bobbie, can you get a pot of rice ready and show me where the dehydrated stuff is?” Bobbie nodded and led Thad off.

  I opened the bag of shock and went to the cabin for a couple of buckets. With the buckets filled from the creek, I added the shock in the appropriate ratio, then took them, a Solo cup, and the gloves over to the outhouse. Mel was leaning on the side of the structure, cloth in hand.

  “Here you go,” I said, setting the buckets down. She did not look enthused.

  Mel dipped the cloth in some of the clean water, wrung it out, and then handed it inside to Ashley.

  “Thanks, Mom,” she called out.

  For a moment she was quiet, then the door swung open and she came out, hitching up her pants. The cloth was folded in her hand and she held it out to Mel. Mel put on the gloves and dipped a cup in the bleach solution, pouring it over the soiled cloth and agitating it. After rinsing it and wringing it out, she looked up at me.

  “Where do I put it?” she asked.

  “Just hang it on a limb,” I said.

  “All right,” she sighed. “This isn’t too bad.”

  “And it feels good too!” Little Bit shouted, jumping up and down.

  Chapter 10

  When the music stopped, it took a moment for Jess and Fred to register it. Their ears were ringing badly, and everything sounded as if their heads were packed with cotton. Jess rolled onto her back, reveling in the silence. She fell asleep a few moments later, exhausted from the evening’s events. Fred lay there trying to ignore the ringing in her ears. Her head hurt so badly that, for once, she was thankful it was dark. She had never experienced pain like this—her body was on the brink of collapse. She could only imagine how Shane or the old man were faring in their respective cells.

  As if on cue, the door to Shane’s cell was opened. Fred braced herself for the sound of water splashing, but she couldn’t hear anything. Shane was so weak that he didn’t even respond to the noise. His body hung limply from the restraints. A nurse entered the cell and checked him, running a digital thermometer across his forehead.

  “He’s hypothermic. You need to warm him quickly or he’s gonna die, and soon.”

  “Well, shit! I told you we should have checked on him last night,” one officer said to another.

  “So what if he dies? Gonna happen sooner or later.”

  “Yeah, well, Niigata wants it to be later.”

  “Come on, let’s take him down.”

  Shane was lowered to the floor and old wool Red Cross blankets were brought in. The nurse laid a few on the floor then covered him with the rest.

  “This isn’t going to do it,” she said, looking at the guard.

  “What else do you want us to do? How can you warm him up?”

  “Ideally, another person. Skin-to-skin contact is the best way.”

  “What? Someone wrapped up with him in the blankets?”

  “Mmhmm, that’s the best way.”

  The guard smiled and motioned for the other officer to follow him.

  “Where are you going?” the nurse asked.

  “To get you a warm body,” he called over his shoulder as he twirled the keys on his finger.

  Jess was barely able to open her eyes before she was grabbed by the guard and pulled to her feet.

  “Get up, we’ve got a treat for you,” a man’s voice said.

  “No, no
. . .” She tried to protest, but she was so exhausted from the previous night, it was futile.

  “Come on,” one of the men said as they dragged her down the corridor and into another cell.

  Jess could make out what seemed like a body under a pile of blankets. The officers pulled her to her feet and removed her restraints, then issued a command that terrified her.

  “Strip.”

  Adrenaline shot through her body, horrible memories flooding her. Jess tried to bolt for the door, but she was still weak and feeble. One of the guards easily grabbed her arm and stopped her. She fought back and screamed.

  “You do it or we’ll do it for you!” one of the men shouted as she was thrown back into the cell.

  “Get away from me! Don’t come near me!” Jess screamed as she backed away from the two men.

  Fred was lying on the floor of her cell when she heard Jess scream. She quickly got up and moved to the door.

  “Jess, Jess! You all right?” she shouted. Before Jess could respond, the nurse grabbed Jess by the shoulder and looked her square in the eyes.

  “Look, we need you to warm him up. Get under the blankets with him. Skin-to-skin contact is the fastest way to warm someone up. He isn’t going to hurt you, look at him,” she said, pointing to the motionless form under the blankets.

  Jess looked at the mound under the blankets, then at the nurse, and last, the guards.

  “It’s going to happen one way or another, sweetheart,” one of the officers said.

  “Fuck you! Don’t call me that!” Jess shouted. She then looked back at the nurse, begging her with her eyes. “Tell them to leave and I’ll do it.”

  The nurse turned to the officers. “Would you two get out of here? I’ll make sure she gets undressed and show her how to lie with him.”

  The two men stood their ground for a moment, eyeing Jess. Then one of them gave a dismissive wave. “Fuck it, let’s go,” he said and stepped out of the cell.

  Jess watched the men leave, then looked at the nurse, twirling her finger to tell her to turn around. Jess took off the jumpsuit and laid it aside, then carefully lifted up the blankets to reveal a nude man. He was rather young and appeared to be totally unconscious. She lay down beside him, flinching when she first touched his skin.