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Saturday, November 27, 2010

"Bugout Versus Hunker" Short Story by Christopher Young - Chapter 6

Charles heard the cellar door open. The scamper of
little feet came up the stairs. Pink mittens and boots
and pink princess coats went scattered every where. The
hearty pink cheeks held big smiles. "Lookit, lookit!"
small voices chirped. They had built a snow man in the
back yard. Mom reminded them to hang up their coats and
hats and gloves. So they would be dry for the next time.
Dad silently wondered when they would next be able to go
shop for clothes. Dad looked out the window. Sure enough,
there was a snowman. They must have worked hard, at that.
Mom straightened their hair, and sent them to get ready
for a bath. The water heater was natural gas, and they
still had hot water. But for how long, no one knew. Good
thing the laundry was done.

They had called work. They got a busy signal several
times. Finally, someone answered. As they expected,
work was closed, until the electricity came back on.
The table radio was talking, in the kitchen. The
reporter was telling how the riots continued in the
cities. The hungry people were demanding that the
government "do something". They had set up feeding
centers in a couple of the schools and public buildings.
But, there was little they could do without electricity.
They handed out MRE and government cheese, until that
ran out. The government food ran out very quickly.
Charles remarked, that it looks like it's going to get

"What's worse?" his youngest daughter asked. "Well,
Princess. It's hard to explain, but it means that the
adults in the world are misbehaving. They need to act
better. "Do they need a spanking?" she asked. Charles
smiled, and nodded yes. "You will have to help make up
for it, by being extra good for a while. Things like
remember to hang up to your coat, and keep things neat
and clean. You understand?" She nodded yes. Charles
hugged her. Such a gentle spirit.

Butch stood at the edge of the forest. Trying to hide
behind a tree, so he would not be seen. There was his
big, well maintained and perfectly tuned family hauler
truck. Behind the truck was a cop car, with the lights
on. In front of his truck was a tow truck. The scene
was unmistakable. His truck was being towed.

Butch stood for several seconds. The tow driver got
into the cabin, and with a roar of the engine, took
off. With Butch's truck, on the back. The copcar
turned off the lights, and followed behind the tow

Butch slowly walked back towards the camp site. His
wife instantly knew something was wrong. Butch said
"truck got towed". His wife burst into tears. She was
starving hungry. Her feet were wet, and she didn't
have any dry socks. The twins had been whimpering,
and the daughter was wearing her "why did you do this
to me" look. His wife went back into the tent, and
zipped the tent closed. Butch decided to look through
the packs, and through his pockets, and find a way to
make a fire. That was the real priority. In the left
pocket of his coat, he found a magnesium bar, with the
flint on the edge. Now, we're on to something. Butch
reached under his coat, and got the Rambo knife which
he had strapped on. He bent down to the chunk of piney
wood fire log, and started to light it, by scraping the
flint. After several minutes of scraping, still no fire.
But, he had managed to cut his thumb, on his left hand.

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