Reinke Faces Life

It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Thirteen – Laid low by a secret room

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Twelve – Chatting with new friends

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Eleven – The First Full Shelter Morning

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Ten – Life shelter style

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Nine – Blood loss, shock, survive?

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Eight – Shake, rattle, and roll

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Seven – Down in the shelter

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Six – Huddle on the fallen

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Five – Sister Euphemia’s view

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Four – Brother Prefect’s view

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Three – Marie’s view

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It happened in Church – October 19, 1962
Chapter Two – Brother Kevin’s view

It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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It Started In Church – October 19, 1962
http://www.itstartedinchurch.com

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The Pink Shotgun BY knight_308
http://www.frugalsquirrels.com/vb/showthread.php?t=204075

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Recommended as an interesting commentary on the “justice system” and the “rights” of criminals!

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It was dawn. Now safe to leave the house. It was best to get to the store for one’s “citizen ration” early. Some rations were better than others. All I had on me was my REALIDV32 card. But that’s all I really needed. Going through the checkpoints TO the store was easy; coming home, not so. So I presented my id to the “block police” man standing “guard” at the end of the block. I trod briskly — well as briskly as an old man can — to the end of the road where I presented my id to the “municipal police”. Then it was about a mile to the highway where I present my id to the State Trooper. And, since this was a county line, next to the FEMA bureaucrat. While he let me pass, he warned that someday the terrorists might preclude allow inter county travel. I knew in a hour the line would be long. But no one in authority cared. Late comers might not even get thru the checkpoint before the dusk curfew. Did I mention that “citizen’s rations” didn’t carry over from day to day. Some thing about not allowing the terrorists to stockpile. But, I was thru an the store was closed for another 7 minutes. So I silently joined the lengthening line.

I recognized Carl, a fellow chum from the now defunct American Legion post. The Legion, as well as the VFW, were all closed by the Fraternal Organization’s tax of 42% of capital assets. It was the same tax that got the Churches after the Supreme Court decided that the First Amendment prohibited exclusionary churches (i.e., no Separation in Church was what the Founding Fathers meant to write). Carl moved back in line to me and spoke very low so the snitches wouldn’t hear. “U OK?” “Yea; no use complaining” “Sorry bout your wife.” A sob welled up but I swallowed it. “Thanks, I told her not to say anything about the Earth Day presentation at her school.” “Reeducation?” “I don’t know. Maybe worse?” I’d heard that females in need of an attitude adjustment were sent to the brothels that serviced the UN Peace Keepers now here in Amerika. To keep us safe from terrorism. “Nah, it was her first offense.” “Hope so. Store’s opening.” With that we both shuffled in.

I quickly gathered some stuff and headed to the checkout. Goods were distributed by weight. One pound seven ounces was the official standard. BUT, when the stock ran down, political komisars would ask you “Do you need ALL that citizen?” I’d heard that people sometimes late in the day only got ONE ITEM. That’s why I came early.

As I walked to the FEMA / State checkpoint I reflected how far we had fallen.

The FEMA guy tool a can of tomatoes. The State Trooper scored a can of fruit.

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

The municipal police took an apple.

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

The block police took the other apple.

I got home with two cans of beans.

As I sat and thought, I thought of my own run in with the police. A wild tomato grew in my hedge and the block police reported an unlicensed garden. The raid hurt. I got beaten, the wife got fondled, and the children were removed by the DYFS for their own protection. The summon’s fine was all “contraband”. Payable immediately. That was anything of value that the police could find and carry away.

I was now mad. It had been my uncle’s house. He’s always joked about the four poster garden bed as supporting us.

After midnight, I crept out to one corner of the garden and dug with my fingers. About four inches down, I hit plastic. It was a tube. Like a plastic pipe. I pulled off the cap and extracted three small plastic ziplock bags. Replacing the cap, I push back the dirt. And scattered some old leaves to cover it.

Back in the house, I used a candle in an interior room. I wanted to see the “treasure”. One was a note. “From this spot, take the first digit of the old shore house address north and your aunt’s bball number west.” The second was a gun. A very old gun. It looked like a toy. It’s note said “Liberator”. The instruction sheet had no words just pictures. It had a stick and ten bullets. The third had an energy bar, a juice box, and some tomato seeds.

As I ate the bar and drank the juice, I read the directions and loaded the gun. It was single shot.

I was afraid. But courage is just a scared person just doing what’s right.

I crept up to the sleeping block policeman. As I pressed the gun to his chest, he awoke slowly. A muffled bang. And he was dead. He didn’t have anything worth taking. So using the wooden stick, I extracted the used round. And, put in another.

I crawled down the block. I did stop to spread the seeds in the block komisar’s lot. And, down to the municipal police check point. Same process, except here I scored a real gun. I reloaded and left it on a neighbors doorstep.

Down to the State / FEMA checkpoint. I mowed down six.

I picked up all the weapons. And, dropped one on every other neighbor’s house and banged on the door.

About half answered. About half of these joined me in the street.

We couldn’t see the drone passing over. But the gaging started immediately after we heard it.

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Percy’s Mission BY Jerry D Young
http://www.survivalistboards.com/showthread.php?t=9217

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ED Day – Dead Sydney BY Darryl Mason
http://ed-day.blogspot.com
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A serialized novel by Darryl Mason. Set in Sydney in the months after the bird flu pandemic kills millions. The story follows three hundred survivors as they try to rebuild their society, in a city of the dead. New chapters will be posted each week.

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http://www.frugalsquirrels.com/vb/showthread.php?t=170163

The Liebowitz project is something that everyone can do. Pick three books that are important to you, one on your profession or trade, one that is just entertainment (whatever you find enjoyable) and one that is a textbook on a basic subject you think important, and go out and purchase copies of them (library or archive quality, hardbound, if at all possible). Then, carefully preserve the books – seal them in plastic, spray the plastic with insecticide, and then seal that inside more plastic. Put the books in a safe place (I use a 20mm ammo can, painted silver).

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Starship Troopers. Thomas’ Calculus. The Thinker’s Toolkit.

So what are your three books?

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[I didn’t realize that it required registration to read my story. Here it is!]

http://www.frugalsquirrels.com/vb/showthread.php?p=1341855#post1341855

The Mad Chemist – A TEOTWAWKI Skill (What’s yours?)

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The Mad Chemist by reinkefj
A TEOTWAWKI Skill (What’s yours?)

It was a year after the SHTF, (does it really matter what the specific S was that hit the F?), the fat old fellow who had done some minimal prep was rolling in luxury. Or what passed for it in those days.

He had sheltered in place for the duration. He was extremely busy while everyone was lounging in their shelters. There were lines to activate. There were batches to brew. There were tests to run. He wasn’t a pioneer type. He wasn’t athletic by any means. He wasn’t the great white hunter, Rambo, medicine man, or priest. He was a dumb old injineer with a plan.

He was now living in his old house with a staff. The county hospital was opened in the next house down. As was the sheriff, a food coop, butcher, and what passed for the county library all nearby. It was grid down. But his house was lit up. Fuel trucks making deliveries were a regular. As were pig drop offs. Bicyclists, pickup trucks, and even an occasional helicopter were seen going in and out of the property. There was even a small security detail. Especially when the armored cars rolled in and out.

The bad guys were your run of the mill looters. Not too bright, they had been lucky. The jail they were in held them safe during the S that hit the F. As petty criminals, the guards let them out. (Note not all were so lucky. Some forward thinking guards either left their charges locked up to die of thirst, or did the humane thing and shot these human parasites in their cells.) They lived off the leftovers. When easy living dried up, they went back to stealing. When stealing got tougher, (victims were shooting back with greater accuracy), they moved up to full fledged raiding.

They heard about this hub of activity. And went down to look it over. There were now six of them. They were getting hungry and it looked like an easy target. The smell of pork was in the air. It would be a good strike. Maybe something that would keep them in the chips for the rest of their life. They reconned and spotted the fat old guy walking around outside with a two man protective detail. He would be their target since he was the “rich guy”. Their imaginations ran wild. Maybe he’s a Gates, Buffet, or like “howard hughes”. It would be easy since he was fat and old. The fat part got their juices really flowing since no one was fat these days.

The details of the operation are really not important. Sufficed to say four of them made it to the house and the security detail didn’t. They broke into the house and rounded up all the staff. They didn’t think much, so it wasn’t registering that a staff of 20 people was unusual. The ring leader found the fat old guy in the basement. Not cowering in fear as he expected. Not facing him with weapons. Not trying to make a deal.

The ring leader’s proposition was a variation of “your money or your life”. The old man’s response was amusing. “Please take my life. My loved ones are gone. The work is endless. And, the money is over rated.” The ring leader was confused. And then the gas hit.

The ring leader woke up in a room. He knew the Sheriff on a professional level from previous arrests. It was obvious he was in deep doo doo. “What was your plan?”. “We was going to take over and take it easy.” “Take over what? The only working drug lab making insulin, cowpox vaccine, and antibiotics in the State? I just want to meet the idiot that tried to rob a drug plant. I thought there was more to this. Take out the trash.” The leader was roughly manhandled out to the yard, past the pigs that were being harvested for their Islets of Langerhans, past the sign proclaiming the area as an “Essential State Resource”, and to the pit. The leader was shot with a small 22 to the head and his body joined his buddies being fed to the pigs.

The Sheriff was astonished that these fools didn’t know that this facility was keeping alive all the post TEO diabetics who made it, all those who had infections, and was protecting all the potential small pox victims. He just shook his head and wondered how the fat old man was coming along with his attempt to make nitroglycerin for heart patients. Maybe he’d get to Viagra soon. The fat old man did have niche skill in the new world.

-30-

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The Old Man – “old bear” @ Timebomb2000
http://www.timebomb2000.com/vb/showthread.php?t=47777

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Recommended as a vignette that has a poignant quality.

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http://www.giltweasel.com/stuff/LightsOut-Current.pdf

Lights Out by HalfFast

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Recommended as one of the earliest of the “modern” (i.e., not dead tree form) of TEO writing I am aware of.

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It might be interesting to write “a story with choices”.

I remember paper books being published which at the bottom of every page gave you a choice. “If X should go left, turn to page number Y. If X should go right, turn to page Z.” I remember being very anal in those days and literally ripping the book apart and mapping the various alternative choices. It was amazing in that the author (script writer?) had several choices “rejoin” a string. I used the same technique when I played Willie Crowther’s (original author) Adventure. It was Don Woods’ expansion that led me to “contribute” my time to the computer industry’s two week delay while everyone solved the game. You know the one with “twisty caves all alike”. The man was diabolic. At least I wasn’t diverted into real life D&D (popular with the Princeton U crowd) or lured into computer gaming. No, I stayed focused on the Wall Street and its money. Never made it, but chased it for decades.

So it would seem that it would be possible — easy in the days of blogs and the web — to translate a story in this form to a user experience. It would really translate into print, but it might be like a very “flat” computer game.

Hmmm?

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Interesting that fan, patriot, and and other writing forms seem to have adopted the chapter per blog post format.

Here’s an exemplar.

http://ed-day.blogspot.com

ED Day – Dead Sydney

*** begin quote ***

A serialized novel by Darryl Mason. Set in Sydney in the months after the bird flu pandemic kills millions. The story follows three hundred survivors as they try to rebuild their society, in a city of the dead. New chapters will be posted each week.

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Fascinating to see what may be a revival of a genre?

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As a boy, I first experienced “survival fiction” in the form of Swiss Family Robinson. Not much later, it was Robinson Crusoe. Eventually, I became a fan of Heinlein and got my first introduction to “libertarianism” in Starship Troopers. That’s probably why I listened in class to the American Revolution, the death of that revolution in the War of Northern Aggression, and Austrian Economics. As you can guess, I was a thorn to every teacher because I was a “true believer” in the Sovereign Individual. (Not too good in a Catholic school.) Maybe that’s why I have an affinity for what is currently called “patriot fiction”, or the TEOTWAWKI (The End Of The World As We Know It) genre.

It amazes me that there is so much of it. Mostly free and “unpublished”. And it all pretty much follows the formula — setup, preparing, disaster, and the results of it. Interesting is that it all seems to recognize that humans desperately need each other to survive. The first thing that needs to happen is that a tribe has to form or the individual survivors will be overwhelmed by this or that. Tribes may form clans as well.

Bottom line: No matter what the disaster, the individual needs to be prepared. Long term survival relies on cooperation. It truly is a jungle out there. Like today, there are varmints — two legged and four legged — that need to be dealt with. And, no amount of wishing, or “laws”, will make it not so.

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Life was good.

True, they had come thru the end times that had killed so many. The farm was prospering with lots of hard work. Unrelated good folks pulling together under horrible conditions were making it so. They thought they had problems with weather, shortages, the complete absence of some critical things, thieves, predators, and sometimes it seemed the fates.

But!

The crops looked good; the animals were breeding; they had not only survived, but were succeeding. They had enough for themselves going into winter, enough to sell, enough to gift. Enough to tithe if there had been a church. But gifting to the widows and orphans took the tithe. Eliminated the middleman and the handling fee. They had even laid aside a portion for the Seven Years.

Unfortunately, others could see their prosperity.

In an office far away, “It’s time to bring the sheeple to heel, General. Apply the Force to them.” “Yes, Guv. Right away!”

During the night a small drone flies quietly over the target dispersing its deadly cargo.

By the end of the week, the farm’s folks were dead in their boots. First thing Monday morning, the convoy rolls up to take over. A brand new Colonel and his command installed themselves to operate the farm for the “people’s benefit”. We know that means the Guv’s.

Funny thing, but it’s different when it’s yours.

SO, by the end of the next season, the farm was worthless. And, the Guv and the General executed the Colonel for crimes against the State. They never figured out it was their meme that was wrong.

In the end, there are no problems. Just our fellow man. We, the race, are our own problem.

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***Begin Quote***

The kids came for a visit. Great fun. The TV blares “take shelter”. Where? I run to the end of the drive way, grab a tire iron from the truck, and lever up the manhole cover. The womenfolk chase the kids down the hole. I shuttle blankets, water bottle, and some food down to them. What’s next? The family treasure chest and some protection. I pull the truck tail over the open hole and wiggle down my self. Everyone’s scared; me included. Who knows what’s next. At least we weren’t out in the open. Not too bad for being totally unprepared?

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