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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

March 14, 2017 Cast Iron 0
Raym0nd wrote:
Great story beginning but it is time to stop psychoanalyzing and get on with YOUR story. You now have several idea suggestions on where to take Clair’s character so put one knee in your little red wagon and let’s git r done.

I agree Raym0nd.

I have made additional notes to the Claire outline for future reference. Otherwise, put her aside for now.

The next part requires a bit more thought. Character development can be a chore sometimes. I do not want some cookie cutter, stereotype. I think that would disappoint you, and betray the spirit of the story.
Getting the dialog right is also key. Conversations should have a natural feel. Not forced, or too Hollywood.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Mon Mar 13, 2017 11:13 pm


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

March 14, 2017 Raym0nd 0

Great story beginning but it is time to stop psychoanalyzing and get on with YOUR story. You now have several idea suggestions on where to take Clair’s character so put one knee in your little red wagon and let’s git r done.

Statistics: Posted by Raym0nd — Mon Mar 13, 2017 8:13 pm


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

March 13, 2017 Cast Iron 0
DR1VENbyKNOWLEDGE wrote:
OK CI….Chiming in here again.

1st….damn you…..lol. My mornings consist of a good cup of coffee, browsing this forum, a few news sights, the markets, and then off to work… I haven’t checked your story for a while and it sucked me in. No news, markets, or other sites this AM and now I’m late for my day….You sucked me in entirely and I couldn’t stop reading……I blame you entirely. ;)

2nd…..the reading is excellent. Same as my first assessment. You have a winner here. Keep it up. Do whatever you want with it, but put it to paper. This one needs writing.

3rd….. You do as you want OF COURSE…You are the writer and go with your gut as I’ve already told you that you have a winner here but IMO(which matters nothing)Just feedback here as you seem to enjoy getting it along the way.(I don’t think I could do it that way. I’d release all after hours of self-criticism…lol)…….The tacticool spot….great action writing but if going that deep into tactical description, spread it out with bits here and there if adding that element to a given character or book….In the first few paragraphs where it got REALLY descriptive on individual carry out I browsed right over it getting to the action…Too technical….some is excellent, but too much starts to read like a manual if built up in one area….As you backed off the gear description and the action heated up, you pulled it off.

Clair—-a small sign of physical abuse would give the reader sympathy for her actions if that’s where you want to go before she Off’s Jason(If she actually did…It’s implied right now, but not fact…yet.) As it is, she unstable and not going to be welcomed(logically) into the new society…..bats’ in the bell tower my friend. Jason has done NOTHING but help her as misguided as his intentions are. There is no physical abuse and she’s not being held against her will……As it sits right now Clair is a criminal…..if that’s you’re intent then I see Clair being hesitantly admitted into town(If at all), and then a loose cannon that’s more and more unstable that creates problems from here……Excellent character development regardless of the direction.

My $.02 my friend but it really doesn’t matter what I think……This is yours. and its amazing…really. You’re pulling me into a world against my will as I’m into book 3 of a 4 book series and cant stand mixing fiction until I’ve completed the series……Well done CI. :thumbup:

DR1VEN,

I will gladly accept the responsibility for your tardiness to work.
If it will smooth things over with your boss, I will write you a note. ;)

As always, I appreciate your feedback and input. The fact I pulled you, and others, into the world I have created gives me inspiration.

The tacti-cool edition, it was more of a blatant jab at the tacti-cool crowd. I have a co-worker who blathers on about all things tacti-cool, life staw, and tampons like he is some kind of expert, but can not find his way out of a paper bag without a GPS.

Claire . . . I think she needs additional back ground work. And I will get to it.
But first, I am still sorting out the war.

Thank you again for your comments and input.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Mon Mar 13, 2017 12:27 pm


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

March 13, 2017 DR1VENbyKNOWLEDGE 0

OK CI….Chiming in here again.

1st….damn you…..lol. My mornings consist of a good cup of coffee, browsing this forum, a few news sights, the markets, and then off to work… I haven’t checked your story for a while and it sucked me in. No news, markets, or other sites this AM and now I’m late for my day….You sucked me in entirely and I couldn’t stop reading……I blame you entirely. ;)

2nd…..the reading is excellent. Same as my first assessment. You have a winner here. Keep it up. Do whatever you want with it, but put it to paper. This one needs writing.

3rd….. You do as you want OF COURSE…You are the writer and go with your gut as I’ve already told you that you have a winner here but IMO(which matters nothing)Just feedback here as you seem to enjoy getting it along the way.(I don’t think I could do it that way. I’d release all after hours of self-criticism…lol)…….The tacticool spot….great action writing but if going that deep into tactical description, spread it out with bits here and there if adding that element to a given character or book….In the first few paragraphs where it got REALLY descriptive on individual carry out I browsed right over it getting to the action…Too technical….some is excellent, but too much starts to read like a manual if built up in one area….As you backed off the gear description and the action heated up, you pulled it off.

Clair—-a small sign of physical abuse would give the reader sympathy for her actions if that’s where you want to go before she Off’s Jason(If she actually did…It’s implied right now, but not fact…yet.) As it is, she unstable and not going to be welcomed(logically) into the new society…..bats’ in the bell tower my friend. Jason has done NOTHING but help her as misguided as his intentions are. There is no physical abuse and she’s not being held against her will……As it sits right now Clair is a criminal…..if that’s you’re intent then I see Clair being hesitantly admitted into town(If at all), and then a loose cannon that’s more and more unstable that creates problems from here……Excellent character development regardless of the direction.

My $.02 my friend but it really doesn’t matter what I think……This is yours. and its amazing…really. You’re pulling me into a world against my will as I’m into book 3 of a 4 book series and cant stand mixing fiction until I’ve completed the series……Well done CI. :thumbup:

Statistics: Posted by DR1VENbyKNOWLEDGE — Mon Mar 13, 2017 10:05 am


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

March 11, 2017 Cast Iron 0
Fightheat wrote:
Really enjoying this story so far thank you for your hard work!
Claire’s response in today’s world would definitely be over the top, however post shtf… I can see it being necessary there are no shelters to disappear into and not a lot of law enforcement available.

Thank you FightHeat for your feedback.

The next chapter is proving to be more difficult than I anticipated.

I am still working on it though.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Sat Mar 11, 2017 9:29 am


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

March 11, 2017 Fightheat 0

Really enjoying this story so far thank you for your hard work!
Claire’s response in today’s world would definitely be over the top, however post shtf… I can see it being necessary there are no shelters to disappear into and not a lot of law enforcement available.

Statistics: Posted by Fightheat — Fri Mar 10, 2017 9:36 pm


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

March 11, 2017 Fightheat 0

Really enjoying this story so far thank you for your hard work!
Claire’s response in today’s world would definitely be over the top, however post shtf… I can see it being necessary there are no shelters to disappear into and not a lot of law enforcement available.

Statistics: Posted by Fightheat — Fri Mar 10, 2017 9:36 pm


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

March 2, 2017 Cast Iron 0
LetsPrep11 wrote:
My take on Claire was the same as Ice’s. I was glad when it appeared she had finally had ‘Enough’ but thought her reaction was over the top. I really felt for Claire and I guess I wanted her to be a bit more clever. As my thoughts sped ahead of my reading, I envisioned seeing the tides turn as she began to stand up to her jackazz partner. If she knew how to garden, her mother likely taught her many more useful things that would help them survive (maybe plant identification, food preservation, making soap, etc.). She could have used that against Jason. It would have been fun to see her handing him a job list, instead of her doing everything. Although, Jason probably would have stormed off in search for another weak woman he could control. He’s that type.

Still loving the story! Keep it coming.

Thank you LetsPrep for your input and insight.

I appreciate it.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Thu Mar 02, 2017 6:39 pm


Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

March 2, 2017 LetsPrep11 0

My take on Claire was the same as Ice’s. I was glad when it appeared she had finally had ‘Enough’ but thought her reaction was over the top. I really felt for Claire and I guess I wanted her to be a bit more clever. As my thoughts sped ahead of my reading, I envisioned seeing the tides turn as she began to stand up to her jackazz partner. If she knew how to garden, her mother likely taught her many more useful things that would help them survive (maybe plant identification, food preservation, making soap, etc.). She could have used that against Jason. It would have been fun to see her handing him a job list, instead of her doing everything. Although, Jason probably would have stormed off in search for another weak woman he could control. He’s that type.

Still loving the story! Keep it coming.

Statistics: Posted by LetsPrep11 — Thu Mar 02, 2017 5:39 pm


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

March 1, 2017 Cast Iron 0
IceFire wrote:

Cast Iron wrote:

IceFire wrote:I like Claire. Jason definitely needed to go, but I’m kind of sorry that she was the one who had to do it.

Thank you IceFire for continuing to read and comment. I appreciate the feed back.

May I ask what is your “feel” you get from Claire? What kind of person do you think she is?

What I get from Claire is that she has been emotionally/verbally abused, first by her father, and then by Jason. (ason, btw, gave me the impression of the “mall ninja” type…while they had SOME food preps (which I’m betting was more Claire’s doing than his) he was more into the “tacticool” aspect, and pretending to be “on guard” while SHE did all the work. Claire is actually stronger than she thinks she is but the constant emotional abuse, topped off by the stresses of the “SHTF” event caused her to “snap” after reaching her breaking point.

Thing about emotional abusers is that they frequently escalate into physical abuse: I get the sense that her father may have gotten to that stage, and that Jason was quickly getting to that point (if he hadn’t already.)
Claire’s response was the kind that is seen with “battered woman syndrome”.

(Sorry, the stuff I learned in my psych classes may be causing me to over-analyze)

IceFire, your post was exactly what I was trying to convey.
I felt I may have been too subtle in that attempt, hence the reason why I posed the question.

However, I still feel I should have been more descriptive to ensure that was how the reader would see Claire.
As NJMike aptly points out, each persons experience can color a reading.

The initial Claire draft was darker and even somewhat went down physical abuse path, but I found it too distasteful and off putting and deleted that draft outright.

Again, I may use future conversations to add more to Claire.
But right now I have a war to plot.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Wed Mar 01, 2017 8:54 am


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

March 1, 2017 IceFire 0
Cast Iron wrote:

IceFire wrote:I like Claire. Jason definitely needed to go, but I’m kind of sorry that she was the one who had to do it.

Thank you IceFire for continuing to read and comment. I appreciate the feed back.

May I ask what is your “feel” you get from Claire? What kind of person do you think she is?

What I get from Claire is that she has been emotionally/verbally abused, first by her father, and then by Jason. (ason, btw, gave me the impression of the “mall ninja” type…while they had SOME food preps (which I’m betting was more Claire’s doing than his) he was more into the “tacticool” aspect, and pretending to be “on guard” while SHE did all the work. Claire is actually stronger than she thinks she is but the constant emotional abuse, topped off by the stresses of the “SHTF” event caused her to “snap” after reaching her breaking point.

Thing about emotional abusers is that they frequently escalate into physical abuse: I get the sense that her father may have gotten to that stage, and that Jason was quickly getting to that point (if he hadn’t already.)
Claire’s response was the kind that is seen with “battered woman syndrome”.

(Sorry, the stuff I learned in my psych classes may be causing me to over-analyze)

Statistics: Posted by IceFire — Tue Feb 28, 2017 11:02 pm


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 28, 2017 Cast Iron 0
NJMike wrote:

Cast Iron wrote:NJMike, thank you very much for your input. I really appreciate it.
Based off your critique and observations I clearly did not convey the relationship dynamic as well as I thought I did.
The first draft went more into detail about Claire, her parents, the relationship with Jason and how it all started . . . but it felt like I was going down a rabbit hole and questionable if it was adding to the overall storyline or not.

And to be honest, some of it felt like a cliche: mousey, verbally/emotionally abused young lady, limited options, marries a, to use your most excellent words, bonehead who is nearly carbon copy of her father.
There is a lot of psychology there.
After years and years of continued verbal/emotional abuse, during the SHTF, she snaps.
Again, feels like a cliche.

You have given me something to think about for future posts.

Thank you again.

You’re welcome. I enjoyed the read. I’d say cliches are cliches because they happen often enough to resonate with people and past experiences. That doesn’t mean a cliched character is bad in the story if done properly. If I drew an incorrect cliched conclusion from your intent, that’s based on my life experiences. You still created a character in Claire deep enough in a few short passages to get a reaction out of me.

Thank you again NJMike.
I may use conversations in the future to give a better background story to develop Claire.
Maybe even tempt a cliche.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Tue Feb 28, 2017 4:59 pm


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 28, 2017 NJMike 0
Cast Iron wrote:
NJMike, thank you very much for your input. I really appreciate it.
Based off your critique and observations I clearly did not convey the relationship dynamic as well as I thought I did.
The first draft went more into detail about Claire, her parents, the relationship with Jason and how it all started . . . but it felt like I was going down a rabbit hole and questionable if it was adding to the overall storyline or not.

And to be honest, some of it felt like a cliche: mousey, verbally/emotionally abused young lady, limited options, marries a, to use your most excellent words, bonehead who is nearly carbon copy of her father.
There is a lot of psychology there.
After years and years of continued verbal/emotional abuse, during the SHTF, she snaps.
Again, feels like a cliche.

You have given me something to think about for future posts.

Thank you again.

You’re welcome. I enjoyed the read. I’d say cliches are cliches because they happen often enough to resonate with people and past experiences. That doesn’t mean a cliched character is bad in the story if done properly. If I drew an incorrect cliched conclusion from your intent, that’s based on my life experiences. You still created a character in Claire deep enough in a few short passages to get a reaction out of me.

Statistics: Posted by NJMike — Tue Feb 28, 2017 3:29 pm


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 28, 2017 Cast Iron 0
BigOrange75 wrote:
AWESOME. A good read. Looks like you are a natural getting the words to flow onto the paper. Look forward to each post. Keep up the good work.

BigOrange, thank you for your response and feedback.

I sometimes feel it does not flow as well as it should.
I have re-written a three sentence paragraph half a dozen times to get the flow just right.

Again, thank you and I am glad you are enjoying the story.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Tue Feb 28, 2017 11:47 am


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 28, 2017 Cast Iron 0
NJMike wrote:
If I may offer my feelings on Claire.

First, I don’t have Jason’s perspective to weigh, but will give him some benefit of doubt. He came across as being stubborn and a bonehead. His shelter in place isolation and stored food may have kept them both alive in the early part of SHTF. His follow up ideas were bad, but he was protective of her by standing watch and having OPSEC concerns for both of their benefits. There’s no mention of him being violent with her, just being ignorant of her ideas and reminding her of her father.

Those traits may make surviving harder, but they are not punishable by death.Thus, I don’t think Claire needed to kill Jason.

She had options. She could have left with her own stuff, as she did the first time on the bike. She had gardening skills to offer for room and board. She could have approached the situation with Jason using different conflict management methods, such as demonstrating new options and reward. The meal she cooked was an example, but she didn’t put any further effort into turning their dynamic around positively in a subtle fashion. Her switch had already gone off.

The murder was a disproportionate response. Her motivation was better tasting food? More social interaction? Being a character from one of her books? Escape from someone? She cast Jason as worthless and he should have been easy to escape from. She saw other people, other options and in her calculus his company was now no longer necessary. She internalized their arguments and that’s on her holding onto past demons. She was projecting past anger of her father issues onto her partner, and making him out to be more of a villain with herself as a blameless victim, all in order to rationalize a greater crime. As I noted before, very much a realistic possibility. It happens without SHTF.

With that said, I think her character reads as selfish, an opportunist, perhaps bipolar or otherwise cray cray. She lacks a moral compass and represents a future danger to the community, more so if she encounters conflict with her world view. I wouldn’t trust her.

I think the community, if intent on law and order, would and should hold her accountable for murder.

NJMike, thank you very much for your input. I really appreciate it.
Based off your critique and observations I clearly did not convey the relationship dynamic as well as I thought I did.
The first draft went more into detail about Claire, her parents, the relationship with Jason and how it all started . . . but it felt like I was going down a rabbit hole and questionable if it was adding to the overall storyline or not.

And to be honest, some of it felt like a cliche: mousey, verbally/emotionally abused young lady, limited options, marries a, to use your most excellent words, bonehead who is nearly carbon copy of her father.
There is a lot of psychology there.
After years and years of continued verbal/emotional abuse, during the SHTF, she snaps.
Again, feels like a cliche.

You have given me something to think about for future posts.

Thank you again.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Tue Feb 28, 2017 11:44 am


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 28, 2017 NJMike 0

If I may offer my feelings on Claire.

First, I don’t have Jason’s perspective to weigh, but will give him some benefit of doubt. He came across as being stubborn and a bonehead. His shelter in place isolation and stored food may have kept them both alive in the early part of SHTF. His follow up ideas were bad, but he was protective of her by standing watch and having OPSEC concerns for both of their benefits. There’s no mention of him being violent with her, just being ignorant of her ideas and reminding her of her father.

Those traits may make surviving harder, but they are not punishable by death.Thus, I don’t think Claire needed to kill Jason.

She had options. She could have left with her own stuff, as she did the first time on the bike. She had gardening skills to offer for room and board. She could have approached the situation with Jason using different conflict management methods, such as demonstrating new options and reward. The meal she cooked was an example, but she didn’t put any further effort into turning their dynamic around positively in a subtle fashion. Her switch had already gone off.

The murder was a disproportionate response. Her motivation was better tasting food? More social interaction? Being a character from one of her books? Escape from someone? She cast Jason as worthless and he should have been easy to escape from. She saw other people, other options and in her calculus his company was now no longer necessary. She internalized their arguments and that’s on her holding onto past demons. She was projecting past anger of her father issues onto her partner, and making him out to be more of a villain with herself as a blameless victim, all in order to rationalize a greater crime. As I noted before, very much a realistic possibility. It happens without SHTF.

With that said, I think her character reads as selfish, an opportunist, perhaps bipolar or otherwise cray cray. She lacks a moral compass and represents a future danger to the community, more so if she encounters conflict with her world view. I wouldn’t trust her.

I think the community, if intent on law and order, would and should hold her accountable for murder.

Statistics: Posted by NJMike — Tue Feb 28, 2017 11:14 am


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 28, 2017 Cast Iron 0
IceFire wrote:
I like Claire. Jason definitely needed to go, but I’m kind of sorry that she was the one who had to do it.

Thank you IceFire for continuing to read and comment. I appreciate the feed back.

May I ask what is your “feel” you get from Claire? What kind of person do you think she is?

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Tue Feb 28, 2017 7:42 am


Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 27, 2017 Cast Iron 0
NJMike wrote:
Well that took a dark turn. A very realistic possibility though.

Good writing. :thumbsup:

Still reading. :)

Thank you NJMike.

Actually it was toned down a bit from the first draft in terms of darkness.

But I needed to get Claire to a point that will get us to the war.

We are about there now.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Mon Feb 27, 2017 2:59 pm


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 27, 2017 Cast Iron 0

Claire knelt in the dirt, putting seeds into the still cold soil. It was too soon for planting but Jason insisted. They would take later once the soil warmed up, if the seeds did not rot.
Claire’s mother taught Claire everything she knew about plants. It was her mothers passion. Looking back, Claire understood why: It got her mother away from her father.
Claire was wishing it would get her away from Jason.
But he insisted on standing “Overwatch,” as he put it, with his AR15, his “Kit,” and other tactical gear.
Claire continued to sow seeds. She actually did not mind the work, for that matter she enjoyed working the dirt in her hands and under her fingernails. What she did mind was Jason standing around, pawing his rifle, and talking. It interrupted the sounds of nature all around them with his insistent commentary of all things tactical related.
Jason knew nothing tactical related.
In high school he took the military entrance exam, the ASVAB.
He did not score high enough to get into even the most basic military occupation. Given at the time the military was drawing down their numbers and could be very selective of who they choose to enlist, taking only those who passed at a higher percentage rate.
Jason did not make that cut.
Most of Jason’s tactical expertise was gathered from internet forums, magazines featuring covers of tricked out AR15s, and YouTube videos.
As she continued to plant seeds he droned on about their tactical situation, as she ignored. With the exception of those they saw when they made the journey to the market, they have not seen another person in months. What could they have that was worth even taking? An old, shabby, faded single wide trailer on less than a quarter acre land surrounded by overgrowth and shrubs? Aside from the wood stove, the raised bed gardens were likely worth more. And they were not even producing anything as she put seeds in the soil. Likely her bicycle was worth more.
Claire sighed as she finished the last row and stood up.
“Done,” she said simply.
Jason looked at her for a long moment.
“Ok,” he muttered.
“We should clean the gutters and clean out the rain barrels,” Claire suggested, knowing full well, ‘we’ was really ‘her.’
“Yeah, we will do that.”
For the next three hours Claire scrubbed gutters and rain barrels.

Claire wanted to go to market to trade for more food.
Jason refused. He declared he would take her bicycle and do the trading. He was more qualified than her. Fuming, Claire pointed out her bicycle was too small for him. Jason dismissed her observation and took his pack, his AR15 and wheeled out on the bicycle.
Three hours later, Jason returned, ranting about how her bicycle was a piece of junk, and he would never again use it to go anywhere, preferring to be on foot. The tactical situation on a bicycle was unacceptable, riding right into an ambush.
Claire made the mistake of commenting on how she was nearly silent on a bicycle, and could ride past an ambush before anyone even knew she was there.
Jason launched into another OPSEC rant.
He ended a few hours later, at the small cheap wooden kitchen table as she set dinner down in front of him, with how stupid she was to think otherwise.
Claire’s father used to talk to her, look at her the same way. When she felt the anger build inside of her, she would shake and cry with rage. All the hurt, the humility, welling up. She could not help it but shake and tears gathering in her eyes.
She hated herself for it. It felt weak to her. She always felt like she should be stronger. But she never was. Claire looked at female characters in her books who where strong, proud and took nothing from no one. Those women never cowered when confronted. Never took a disparaging comment or look and were never reduced to tears.
This time something was different.
Claire felt the rage, the anger. But rather than white hot, with tears in her eyes, it was cold. Cool. Calculating.
As she set Jason’s dinner down on the table, him finishing his rant with how stupid she was to think otherwise, she looked him right in the eyes. Her eyes reflecting the same cold, cool, and calculating she felt inside.
Quickly he looked away and started eating his dinner she prepared for him.
Claire slowly walked away, still looking at him while he ate. She then turned, and made her own plate of dinner. But she was not hungry. For a moment she stared out the kitchen window, the fading sunset set in the West set the sky in a tinge mix of orange and pink in the clouds in the East. She could see her raised bed gardens that would likely never sprout. She reached for a fork and knife but was mildly surprised to find a eight inch chef’s knife in her hand.
The weight of it felt good in her hand.
Natural even.

Jess had finished for the day, packing up her table and camp chair. She traded not only eggs, but two blocks of goat cheese for five pounds of ground venison and homemade pasta.
It was a good day.
Until she spied Claire pulling up on her bicycle. It was loaded down with packs hanging off the handle bars, each side of the seat stem, and a huge pack on her back. Despite the clear effort Claire had put in hauling all of it up to the market, she smiled a smile Jess had never seen.
“Hi ya, Claire,” Jess greeted her.
“Hi ya, Jess,” Claire returned. “Is there still a empty house around here I can move into,” she asked. Then she finished, “Jason is gone.”
It was the degree of finality in Claire’s voice, the cold look and then the equally cold smile that sent a chill through Jess.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Mon Feb 27, 2017 1:31 pm


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 27, 2017 Cast Iron 0
pilgrimtr wrote:
ok Cast iron you have me hooked.
great story please keep it coming. Pilgrim :thumbsup:

Thank you Pilgrim.
I am glad you like it.

With the introduction of Claire, I now have a way ahead.
Just have to get it out of my head and onto . . . paper?

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Mon Feb 27, 2017 7:51 am


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 24, 2017 Cast Iron 0
LetsPrep11 wrote:
I love how I’m pulled into another world while I read this story. I don’t want it to stop! Keep it going CI!!

Thank you LetsPrep11.

As long as you keep reading, I will keep writing.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Fri Feb 24, 2017 1:36 pm


No Picture

Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 24, 2017 Cast Iron 0

Claire pulled off the dirt road and into the short drive to the rental single wide. She parked her bicycle in the shed, and closed the wooden door. As she approached the wooden stairs to the door of the faded red and white trailer, she was suddenly filled with a sense of dread and stopped.
Was Jason awake? How would he react to her going and trading ammunition for food?
After a brief tour of the market, Jess and Debbie helped Claire trade for as much food as she could take back with her. The small backpack was full with two cartons of eggs, a loaf of bread, butter, blackberry jam, and several small plastic bags of dried herbs.
And she still had what Jess called, “change left over.” Four, fifty count boxes of the .22LR ammunition of the ten boxes she brought to trade in the bottom of the backpack along with her water. Claire was going to leave the water to get another loaf of bread, but Jess and Debbie advised against it. Jess told Claire of a man who came through recently who had been on the road for several days and was out of water.
As they went about the market looking for things Claire could trade, the women told her of different things that had happened around the community since, “The world stopped,” is what Debbie called it. There was a brief mention of the civil war, but both women did not want to discuss it and after an uncomfortable moment, pressed on to how everyone was growing as big a garden as they all could. Livestock breeding programs, wild game management programs, water management programs, seed trading program and more. There was a serious on-going bridge card game tournament. The community school drama club put together three plays a year and a musical.
When Claire asked about news from outside the area, Jess shrugged.
“We used to get news from some of the other HAM operators. A lot of them have gone quiet, especially once winter set in.”
“A few said their batteries were not charging as much as their solar panels could put out and had to conserve energy for other things, heating most likely,” Debbie chimed in. “We know some lost their solar panels due to bad storms.”
“This winter was bad. Once it warmed up enough to get patrols to the other homes further out, we found some did not make it,” Jess said simply. “Starvation. Froze. One house the roof caved in under the weight of snow. One fire. And a few houses that were just empty. No one there. Just gone.”
“Even closer in we had a few incidents. Accidents, suicides, a homicide. A few of the elderly just passed on,” Debbie added.
Claire nodded but said nothing.
Once finished, Jess and Debbie invited her back to sit and talk sometime over hot tea. One of them was usually at the market at least a few times a week. Claire thanked them and was on her way back. She enjoyed the nearly effortless downhill ride, but could already feel the earlier ride to the market in her legs and butt. She was really going to feel it next morning.
Despite only being gone for a little over two hours it felt like days had gone by as she stared at the door, one foot on the bottom wooden step, still hesitant to go in.
Would he be mad? Would he yell? Would he give her that look her father used to as he yelled at her?
Claire sighed, and opened the door.
She stood in the door way listening.
Jason continued to snore from the bedroom.
Claire sighed again, but this time it was one of relief. She was certain there would be yelling once Jason awoke, but she had an idea and set to it.

As predicted, there was yelling. But it was short lived as she set a plate of three butter fried eggs, two thick cut pieces of toast, slathered in butter and blackberry jam on the table. His stomach was audible even from across the room. Jason immediately took a set and took a bite into the toast. He did not say anything but for the first time she can remember, Claire heard him sigh.
Even though it was instant coffee from the MRE accessory packs, it smelled heavenly.
As Claire made herself another egg and toast, she repeated most everything Jess and Debbie told her. She left out the ladies invitation to tea.
“Civil war?” Jason stopped eating.
“I do not know. It seemed, personal? Like they personally lost someone or something. They were clearly uncomfortable.”
“We did hear shooting several times and sounded even like firefights last year.”
Claire nodded and sipped her coffee.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Fri Feb 24, 2017 11:48 am


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 23, 2017 Cast Iron 0

Dear reader,
New character whom I did plan for.

Claire woke up. It was still dark out. Somewhat unusual for her, since her body had adjusted to waking just as the sun was breaking over the horizon. Not before.
Jason still was asleep snoring away next to her. She sighed and got up.
The fire had gone out during the night, leaving the rental single wide cool but not as chilly as it had been during the winter. She put her fuzzy slippers on, a heavy bath robe over her flannel pajamas, and made her way slowly out of the bedroom to avoid running into anything groping for the door frame, the hallway and stopped at the bathroom.
She splashed some water from a five gallon bucket sitting next to the toilet to flush.
The wood burning stove had a few dark red coals for her to work with and get the fire going again. The sooner it was going again, the sooner she could make hot coffee, and even make breakfast.
A real breakfast.
Claire stirred the coals with a fire poker, tossed in a hand full of dried tree bark, a few small pieces of kindling, closed the door and slid the air baffle wide open. After a few moments the bark burst into flame and began to burn the smaller pieces. She tossed in three small logs, closed the door, shunt down the air baffle a little and light a candle.
Hand held in front of the candle to prevent it from going out as she walked into the kitchen, she opened the fridge door. There the carton of eggs sat. They were the only thing in the fridge. Why she put them in the fridge she did not know, even mildly chided herself. Even with the arrival of spring, most of the snow gone except in a few deep shadows, the single wide was mostly cool enough the eggs would not go bad.
Jason had returned late in the day before with the eggs from . . . she could not call it a town. It did not have so much as a town square, or downtown, or so much as a traffic light. It was a single post office at a crossroads, a church on the hill, and the rest was nothing more than a collection of homes and farms. Some next to each other, others with a half a mile or more between each other.
Community. She decided it was a community.
The day before Jason returned from the hike to the community to trade for some food taking half a day to get there and back. Their stockpile of MREs had run out two weeks earlier, even after rationing. The rice, beans, canned goods all gone months before. They had been reduced to eating a few handfulls of trial mix a day.
For over an hour he ranted about their lack of OPSEC, especially the fool with the eggs. Jason could of easily taken the eggs from him, but there were a lot of people there in the church parking lot, even kids, and Jason wisely decided it was not worth the possibility of kids getting hurt. They had haggled for the eggs for at least ten minutes, Jason expertly talked the fool down from four boxes of .22LR ammunition to one box.
Claire waited patiently, knowing eventually Jason would get around to the details she was interested in. How many people were there? What kind of things did they have to trade? Did Jason see any of her friends? Was there any news of what had happened?
His responses were vague; A few dozen, he saw butter, bread, the eggs, some blankets, other clothing. He said he did not see any of her friends but she doubted he would recognize them anyways. He did not hear any news as he did not want to draw attention to himself. She sighed and put a pan on the wood stove to fry the eggs when Jason declared they would boil them, two eggs each. When she asked why, he launched into another of his OPSEC rants about the smell carrying on the wind. Claire nearly asked who was going to smell frying eggs? They had not seen another living soul months before the first snow fell. She did not say anything, rather put the pan away and got out a pot to boil the eggs in while he ranted.
This morning, though, she was going to have two fried eggs, over easy with a little salt and pepper they still had from all the MRE accessory packs.
Despite all his OPSEC ravings, if Jason got up before mid-morning it was something of a miracle. It was Claire’s favorite part of the day.

Claire did not mean too. After savoring the first bite of fried egg, she inhaled the rest of the eggs in three or four bites. After months of boring rice, beans, the onslaught of months of MREs, and then the rationing of MREs, the sensation of warm, real food was nearly intoxicating.
Claire wanted more. Her stomach demanded more. She nearly grabbed the rest of the eggs envisioning a pan full of two inch thick omelet. Then they would be gone. None left. None for Jason. And it was wrong of her to do. Before depression set in, the idea hit her hard it nearly bowled her over. She did not even contemplate the idea acting before a second thought could enter her mind, she raced to the spare bedroom got out a set of cloths, gym shoes, a light jacket and her backpack. Quietly she closed the door behind her. To the East, the sun just began to break the horizon. Claire could not hike it to the church and back before Jason woke up.
But her bicycle was in the shed.
One of the few things Jason did for Claire was to get her a decent bicycle. It was a entry level mountain bike, with only front suspension, but it came from a real bicycle store and not a big box store. Claire had always enjoyed bicycling since a kid. The freedom to go where she wanted, wind in her long hair, the sound of the tires on the pavement, watching the landscape speed by.
The wonders of a child.
Unfortunately the wonders of a child did not deal with the struggles of an adult who has not rode seriously in the past year, months of lethargy cooped up in a rental single wide, lack of food and the simple fact of gravity. The ride was only several miles, but most of it was up a gradual incline. Once Claire stopped for a drink of water from her plastic liter bottle, and to unzip her jacket. As she stood up on the pedals to continue the climb, she took comfort the return trip would be all down hill.

Jess set up the small folding table, a folding camp chair, put her egg cartons on the table and sat back and enjoyed her hot tea.
It was early, but Jess had a lot to do that day. Jack was already out in the fields tending to the livestock, the sun had cleared the horizon, a warm breeze promised a warm day ahead. Warmer than it had been in the past few days. She might even be able to remove her jacket before she headed home.
Others were setting up their tables too. Several stopped by to say good morning, and small talk. Jess was talking to Debbie when a young lady pulled up on a bicycle, sweating, and mildly panting. Jess continued to talking, but watched the newcomer out of the corner of her eye. Jess never seen her before.
The young lady got off her bicycle and began to push it though the isle, when she saw the cartons of eggs on the folding table and made straight for them.
Jess broke off her conversation with Debbie, gave the young lady her best smile and said,
“Good morning. Must of been some ride, you look flush!”
“Yes, yes it was,” Claire eyes light up, and she smiled. “Oh, I am sorry, good morning,” Claire corrected herself suddenly afraid she offended them.
Jess and Debbie laughed but smiled warmly.
“I take it you are not from around here,” Jess offered.
Claire’s face suddenly fell, hearing one of Jason’s rants on OPSEC ring in her head.
“That is ok,” Debbie picked up, “Everyone is new one time or another. I am Debbie and this is Jess,” Debbie offered her hand.
“Claire,” Claire took Debbie’s hand.
“Right,” Jess stood and shook Claire’s hand and continued, “Well, this here is the market.” Jess waved her hand around in her best showroom girl imitation. “Started out as a once a week thing, then twice a week, and now it everyday. People come to trade for mainly food, but other things too, clothing, tools.”
“Gossip,” Debbie interrupted.
“I was going to say news, but that too,” Jess smiled.
Claire smiled too, but was afraid she was going to either start to laugh uncontrollably or cry.
Actual conversation with real people.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Thu Feb 23, 2017 1:50 pm


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Prepper Fiction • Re: ‘The Worthless Hills’-Chapter Four:

February 19, 2017 Major French 0

Mary Ann Lauter finished cleaning her Para Ordinance .45 auto pistol. Both George and her had just gotten their CCWs, and they had both qualified, too. Bobby’ had qualified at the same with his AR, as did both his Mom and Dad. Bobby had acquired a .280 Remington hunting rifle for $125.00 at a Pawn shop. His dad had paid for optic optic open sights to be installed. Bobby was looking for to deer season, too.

Bobby watched ‘Hawaii 5 0’ and they called it night. The latter day MIami Vice equivalent was simply a popular TV show. Bobby conked out. His parents watched the ten p.m. news and heard about the severe weather brewing. ‘”I’f we get tornados, this trailer is not a good place to be.” George Lauter talked to his wife. ‘But we can spend the day at Betty’s because they have a storm bunker.” A phone call made the decision. They’d leave at noon and and have a Twister Party at Aunt Betty Wilson’s place, too. Bobby loved his cousins there and they loved him back, especially he’d saved Uncle Ollie beloved hunting dog, where it was attacked by a coyote too. Mary Ann remembered that morning.

Because she had an 11:00 a.m. allergist appointment for a sinus infection, They had stayed the night. Aunt Betty was cooking breakfast, while Bobby helped Donald get the chicken eggs in. THey had just finished that detail when a Commotion from outside. “COYOTES ATTACKING DOG!” Everybody scrambled for revolvers and sporting guns. Bobby snatched up a sledgehammer instead and raced outside. Queenies agonized yells meant she was getting plastered by the Scum, as the Bobby labeled coyotes.

WHAM! CRUNCH! HOWL! Bobby ‘s first swing broke the back of a coyote. A second coyote died of a skull fracture when it rushed Bobby. The rest of the pack fled as Bobby beat the remaining attacking coyote dead. A volley of gunfire from the house got the rest of them. Aunt Betty fired fired a mercy kill shot from her .41 magnum revolver into the survivors.

from a fanny pack,Bobby was already bandaging Queenie’s wounds. “SHE”S STILL ALIVE, TAKE HER TO THE HOSPITAL!” He yelled as he scooped Queenie and ran to Uncle Ollie’s pick up truck. The roared to Bullard’s whereupon Queenie was rushed into emergency surgery. A nurse at the desk noticed Bobby was bleeding. “THey got you, too.” A first aid kit was produced and Bobby ended up in the ER with a leg with a blood soaked bandage.

Bobby had to take rabies shots, sutures, antibiotics and pain pills. “You were very brave back there.” “I couldn’t let those trash kill a helpless dog.” Bobby told the doctor as he finished treating him. “Have you heard any update on the dog I saved?” Mary Ann entered the room. “Queenie will live.” She hugged Bobby and they went home.

Statistics: Posted by Major French — Sun Feb 19, 2017 5:10 am


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 17, 2017 Cast Iron 0
NJMike wrote:
I’ve been enjoying your storyline. I have to admit you almost lost me in the paragraph of the above with all the tacti-cool brand placement…lol. I liked the direction it ultimately went in though.

Thanks for posting! :thumbup:

Thank you NJMike.

The brand placement was a not so subtle hint toward the Rawles types with lists and lists of tacti-cool gear that adds nothing to the story whatsoever, other than look how cool I am.
No mind bending, Hollywood, behind the back, over the shoulder, every shot is between the eyes stuff.
However, I do own the Ruger 10/22T, with the air stripper. Different stock, and scope though.

Thank you again.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Fri Feb 17, 2017 10:15 am


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 17, 2017 NJMike 0

I’ve been enjoying your storyline. I have to admit you almost lost me in the paragraph of the above with all the tacti-cool brand placement…lol. I liked the direction it ultimately went in though.

Thanks for posting! :thumbup:

Statistics: Posted by NJMike — Fri Feb 17, 2017 10:02 am


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 17, 2017 Cast Iron 0

Dear reader,
Thank you for following along if you have thus far.
This edition is what I call the tacti-cool edition. So it may be a bit of a departure from previous entries.

Enjoy.

Jack and Tony dove for cover as rapid gunfire ripped into the trees and earth around them, spraying them with tree bark and dirt.
The sound was nearly deafening.
Luckily, Jack and Tony were wearing their Surefire EP3 Sonic Defender Ear Plugs.
They were out hunting for game, Jack with his Steyr Elite scout rifle, chambered in .308WIN, ten round extended magazine, topped with IOR-Valdada 2-6.75X36 Long Relief, First Focal Plane, Illuminated CQB-PK2 Mil super scout scope, and Ching Sling. Tony with his heavy bull barrel Ruger 10/22T, Magpul Hunter X-22 stock, Timney trigger, Volquartsen Stabilization air stripper, Bushnell Rimfire Optics Rifle Scope 3.5-10x 36mm Ballistic and 1/4 MOA Turret Dropzone 22 Reticle Matte scope and Lapua match grade ammo.
Jack picked up a fist sized smooth rock from the ground, and a stick. He broke the stick to size. More rounds impacted all around them, spraying them with more dirt.
“I am going to throw this,” Jack shouted over the gun fire. “When I tell you to run, you run down there,” Jack pointed, “As fast as you can, and get behind cover. You will have about five seconds, understand? If you can take a shot, take it! If not, run for the church!”
Tony nodded as dirt continued to rain down on him.
Jack tossed the rock and stick in classic military style.
They flew through the air and landed just behind the attackers, 50 yards distant.
Someone yelled, “Grenade!”
“Run!”
Tony ran the way Jack told him, while Jack ran the opposite direction.
While Tony was short, he held the high school 100 yard dash track record. He guessed he beat that record by a second as he jumped the last few feet behind a fallen log.
Jack ran in the opposite direction. Jack may have been tall and in very good shape, he had the disadvantage of running uphill. After what he figured to be about five seconds, he dove for cover, and immediately low crawled as fast as he could to a berm. He then low crawled further away from the ambush, getting more trees between him and his assailants. Jack found a good position behind some trees and waited.
After another long pause, the assailants figured out the ruse, they began firing again at a rapid rate at Jack and Tony’s last position. But Jack and Tony’s last position was a good forty yards from where Jack was now, just over a hundred yards for Tony. Bullets continued to impact harmlessly in the dirt, brush and trees.
Jack was able to take a stable sitting position, bringing his rifle up he could see between two trees, six assailants down in a depression. He rotated the power ring on the scope to the maximum of 6.75 power. He aimed at the assailant closest to Jack, the assailants left shoulder, neck, and helmet in clear view. He took two deep breaths, then a third, but held his breath at the end, and his trigger finger took up the slack of the trigger as he controlled the squeeze, when something happened at the other end of the assailants position that made him stop just before the hammer fell.

Tony was only armed with a .22LR rifle.
But Tony was a good shot with any rifle. And his 10/22 was a very good rifle.
The assailants resumed to tear up dirt, trees and brush, no where near where Tony was in rapid fire.
Over the fallen tree, Tony looked through his scope. He could see the right side of the closest assailant, his shoulder, rifle, his helmet. The assailant was wearing some kind of coyote tan chest rig, multi-cam uniform but a plain grey helmet.
Tony was debating taking the shot, when he noticed the closest three assailants, their helmets were nearly in line as they shot over the top of the depression. He backed the scope zoom power out so he could easily see all three of their helmets. He could not help but smile.
Using match grade, sub-sonic ammunition, the air stripper, and heavy nature of the match bull barrel, recoil was nearly non-existent. In quick succession, he took three well placed shots.
Without waiting around, he got up and ran for the church.

Through his scope, Jack saw his target suddenly turn and drop down.
It was muffled, but he could hear shouting.
Someone was hit . . . more than one . . . they took hits to their helmets. More shouting and confusion.
The assailant sat up enough Jack had a clear shot at his helmet. Jack took another deep breath, held it, squeezed the trigger and sent the bullet to its destination. In nearly one smooth motion, Jack cycled the bolt and loaded another round.
Jack knew if those were military issue Kevlar helmets, his shot would likely not penetrate.
However, glancing blow from a 170 grain bullet traveling at nearly 2700 feet per second at just over a hundred yards, would most certainly rattle the head inside the helmet, physically and mentally Jack hoped.
The assailant dropped lower into the depression after the bullet bounced off his helmet. Jack waited for about ten seconds, the silence was nearly deafening after all the gunfire.
The gun fire stopped, Jack could hear the church bell ringing rapidly. Somewhere not far away he heard the sound of emergency alert whistle blaring out three long calls with a brief pause between each blast. He heard another even further in the distance as each member of the community responded, passing the alert along. In a few minutes the whole community would be on alert if they were not already with all the gunfire. Those nearest who could respond would arrive at the church, with arms. Others who could not afford to join up with the militia at the church, would remain in their homes, assume a defensive posture, on watch and armed.
Those with radios passed the word along to others in the outlaying areas.
A few more moments passed, more whistles faded into the distance, when Jack had his answer; He did rattle the assailant mentally.
Suddenly three assailants stood nearly upright and fired rapidly, wildly in all directions, one shouting,
“Covering fire!”
The other two just yelled and fired wildly.
Jack noted the one who yelled “covering fire,” was the one he shot in the helmet, the bullet gouge easily seen in the helmet.
The other three got up and ran in the opposite direction of the covering fire.
Through the scope, Jack noted they all had magazine chest carrier rigs of various colors, some with desert tan uniforms, others with a urban multi-cam, and one with woodland camouflage. Some had elbow and knee pads. All wore some kind of military style boots, and wearing some kind of pack of equally different camouflage, by all appearances nearly full. Two of the retreating team ran thirty or so yards, took cover behind trees and took up positions ready to fire.
The third only got about ten feet, tripped and fell face first. He tried to get up, but stopped and rolled over, favoring his left arm.
Their magazines empty, the covering team dropped down behind cover. There was a long pause. Then someone shouted,
“What are you waiting for,” he shouted, “Fire!”
The two retreating team began to fire, the first team began their retreat but nearly ran into the covering fire.
Jack could see what he was now calling the leader of the group, the one he shot in the helmet, now screamed for cease fire three times. When the shots stopped, they resumed their retreat, the leader stopping to pick up their fallen comrade. Two of them ran past the others positions and kept going, the leader helping the injured, and hobbled past, yelling, “Go!”
They disappeared into the trees and brush.
Jack waited for thirty seconds, stood up, brushed himself off, and set out for a steady but careful jog toward the church.

It was Tuesday night, not an official town meeting, as those were on Wednesdays.
But the church was nearly full as if it was Wednesday night meeting. Everyone wanted to know what had happened first hand.
The town’s six councilpersons sat at their folding plastic tables, in their folding chairs, on the dais, while other members of the community took seats in the pews, the thrum of conversation filled the church.
At the top of the hour, councilperson Kathy Anderson rapped the gavel twice to call the meeting to order.
“Thank you everyone for coming,” she started. “I know this is not a normal meeting but we all agree,” she motioned to the other councilpersons, “It was necessary. Sheriff Nelson, would you brief us all on what happened?”
The sheriff walked up to the dais and turn and spoke to everyone.
“It appears six armed men had penetrated deep into our community and launched an attack on Jack and Tony.”
“How did they get past our patrols,” someone shouted out. More than a few grumbled in agreement.
The sheriff held out his hands for quiet.
“From what we can tell, they came in cross country during the night, avoiding the roads and our patrols.”
“Were they military,” someone else shouted.
At this point in time, Jack stood up to help the sheriff.
“One of them may have been,” he thought of the one whose helmet he glanced a shot off of. “The rest had no formal military training.” Jack pressed on before anyone could shout out any additional questions. “They did not have any small team tactics, they shot wildly, they lacked discipline. Their equipment was a mix of gear, and camouflage. I think Tony and I stumbled on a bunch of civilians lead by someone with prior military experience, or someone who watched a lot of war movies.”
A nervous laughter passed through the crowed at the remark. The tension seemed to ease up a bit in the church.
“I have to agree with Jack,” Sam announced as he stood up. Sam was a amateur astronomer, and the towns unofficial weather man. His exactness for numbers and statistics was legendary.
“We recovered five hundred and sixty three rounds of spent brass at the ambush site. I am sure we missed some. All had commercial, 223REM head stamps.”
A few people, including Jack whistled at that bit of news.
“Five hundred rounds per a six man team is a lot of ammunition to burn through,” Jack commented on.
“Five hundred and sixty three. How much was each man carrying,” Sam asked Jack.
Jack shrugged, “The chest rigs I saw were of at least two, maybe three different manufactures. Some chest rigs can carry as few as three thirty round magazines, others up to eight thirty round magazines. I have seen one carrying twelve.”
Sam considered it for a moment.
“Let us say they carried eight per person. That would be 1,440 total. And we found about five hundred and sixty three, lets say closer to six hundred for the ones we missed. Forty two percent, give or take a percent.”
Jack could not help but smile at Sam’s exactness. “Two engagements like the one we had today and they would be nearly out of ammunition.”
“That is not all,” Sam continued, “They left twenty of these behind.” Sam held up something, made a ready to catch gesture to Jack, and tossed it across the three pews.
Jack caught a flat desert tan Magpul magazine.
“What is it, Jack,” Kathy asked.
“It is a aftermarket magazine. High quality. Not cheap. Unless they have a large supply of these magazines wherever their base is, they will likely run out of magazines before they run out of ammunition. Run out of these and a semi-automatic rifle becomes a single shot.” Jack finished.
“Correct,” Sam said simply and sat down.
The Sheriff continued, “We sent out additional patrols. Found some boot prints leading to the main road. Cherrel Bogantz says she thought she saw some strange looking men rushing down the East road but could not be sure. She was busy chasing after George again,” sheriff Nelson added. The whole church let out a roll of laughter, as Cherrel’s wayward goat was famous for her escape artist antics. “We are looking for volunteers for additional night patrols and two LP/Ops.”
Twelve hands went up. The Sheriff smiled.
“Get with me after the meeting and we will talk assignments.”

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Fri Feb 17, 2017 9:02 am


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 10, 2017 Cast Iron 0

The man finished his story, shrugged, and said,
“So, here we are.”
“Here we are indeed,” Jack replied. While he thought, Jack refilled the mans empty glass, topped himself off, and offered more to his wife.
“I had some earlier,” she declined.
The trees around them swayed, their new leaves fluttered in the warm breeze. Birds flew around them. The smell of spring was in the air.
“There is still some semblance of civilization,” Jack said to his wife.
“The bridge? Yes. But is that the exception or the rule? He was also attacked by total strangers on the road. What do you think,” she asked the man.
He took a long pull from the glass, set it down and paused for a moment.
“Things are bad,” he started. “All around. Some have resorted to shoot first ask questions later. Others are trying to hold on to civilization.” He paused. “The people at the bridge could have just as easily of shot me, taken my things, and dumped my body without a second thought, but they didn’t. He shook my hand and wish me luck. I have thought about that more than a few times.” He glanced into his glass, looking for an answer.
Jack interrupted the pregnant pause,
“So! You promise not to do anything stupid,” and offered the man his hand. The man looked surprised, but took Jack’s hand.
“Jack. This is my wife Jess,” Jack nodded his head toward his wife.
“Dan,” Dan responded, shaking Jack’s hand and nodded to Jess.
“Ok, so where are your parents place,” Jack asked as he took the GPS back out of Dan’s pack.
“It is about time for lunch,” Jess said as she put the shotgun on safe and slung it over her shoulder. “You want to eat out here?”
“Sure, it is nice out, why not,” Jack replied. Jess walked into the house.
The GPS powered up, Jack pressed a few of the buttons until he found what he was looking for.
“Dan,” he started, “Are quite a bit further Northwest than you thought.”
“I am?”
“Yep. You must have one heck of a pace, my new friend. Here, this is where you are in comparison to where your house is,” Jack passed the GPS to Dan and pointed the two locations on the screen.
“And here,” Jack took the GPS back, pressing a few more buttons, then showed Dan again, “Is where you are now, and where your parents place is. You have to go due East, then South to get to them.”
Dan considered the map for a moment.
“I will be coming in on the road I usually take to my parents, but from the North rather than the South if I did not have my little detour.”
“Right. After lunch we will go up to the town hall and see about getting you a pass. You will need to to go North a few miles, the pick up this road,” Jack pressed another button showing Dan the screen, “Go East, then pick up this road and that will take you South, into your parents town. Normally I would say four days, but at your pace, three easy.”
“What is this pass?”
“I will vouch you are a good guy, and let you transverse our territory without being harassed. The patrols will also know about you and let you pass unmolested.”
“How far does your territory go?”
Jack leaned back, “I am not going to lie, that is a little fuzzy. For the most part, we have established borders, but they can be contentious. The adjacent communities will respect our passes . . . most of the time. Other times, not so much. Relations have been good as of late, so I do not anticipate problems.”
Dan did not look convinced. But it was, what it was.
Jess came back to the picnic table with two large plates, set them down, and took a seat next to Jack.
Dan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
“Oh. My. God. Real food.” He looked up in wonder.
Jess smiled in pride, “Hardboiled eggs, bread, cheese, carrots and left over pork from last night. Do not be shy, dig in,” she smiled.
“Thank you,” and Dan popped an entire egg into his mouth.

An hour later, Jack and Dan walked out of the town hall, Dan with a pass in his hand.
“Jack, I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you would be good. And all that is necessary. No,” Jack paused a moment. “And when you get to where you are going, find your parents, let everyone know there are pockets of civility out here. If we do not keep our civility, we are doomed as a species and have no right to survive.”
Dan offered Jack his hand, Jack took it.
“I will Jack. And thank your for the provisions.”
They shook again, Dan walked down the drive to the main road and turned North and started his trek again.

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Fri Feb 10, 2017 11:48 am


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Prepper Fiction • Re: The Fall

February 10, 2017 Cast Iron 0

Dan awoke early again, and seemed to be falling into a regular pattern, not that he minded. His water gone, he was going to miss even the gym locker like instant coffee from his MREs. Water was going to be his priority today.
He set out, noting the clear sky, a warm breeze, for a spring day it might get warm.
A few hours later, he found out how accurate his observation was. He put away his light jacket. His ball cap kept the sun off his head, but he was still freely sweating. And he was thirsty. It was all he could think about. He was amazed at how far even a 3L water bladder did not get him.
Dan cleared a small rise in the road when he saw what appeared to be a man in a ditch, swinging a pick ax. Dan slowed his pace to remain quiet, but the man was clearly engrossed in his work. Once, the man stopped and seemed to be contemplating something. Dan stopped too. He was almost on top of the man in the ditch. Once the man resumed his work, Dan actually walked quickly, quietly past to get to the higher side of the road, thinking it would give him a tactical advantage. Dan shouldered his AR15, took a few steeps closer and said in his best commanding voice,
“Dont move!”

Statistics: Posted by Cast Iron — Fri Feb 10, 2017 11:45 am


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Prepper Fiction • Re: Surviving the river

February 5, 2017 RayMac1963 0
arkieready wrote:
I hope to hades that this is indeed fiction!!!!!

I kind of figured Perma had exaggerated up his recent “adventure” to make it fiction. Not like his everyday isn’t already way out there. I have no idea he had gotten himself in that much trouble. :shakeno: Not exactly happy with his safety precautions.

Statistics: Posted by RayMac1963 — Sun Feb 05, 2017 2:37 pm


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Prepper Fiction • Re: Surviving the river

February 5, 2017 IceFire 0

So glad you survived the trip into town, but DANG, man…you made some SERIOUS errors there (which I KNOW you darn well know.) Hopefully, you will NEVER repeat them!

Oh, and while you were in town, did you buy a new thermometer, so you at least know how bloody cold it is BEFORE you decide to head out? Next time, LET YOUR WIFE KNOW YOU”RE COMING!

Statistics: Posted by IceFire — Sat Feb 04, 2017 9:26 pm