Alone in the Apocalypse: Post-Apocalyptic America: After the Solar Flare Read online

  "If it had hit, we would still be picking up the pieces," says Daniel Baker of the University of Colorado, who presented a talk entitled The Major Solar Eruptive Event in July 2012: Defining Extreme Space Weather Scenarios. “– NASA SCIENCE/SCIENCE NEWS

  “Experts Warn the Next Carrington Event Will Plunge Us Back Into the Dark Ages” –Infowars 2014

  “Earth misses possible total destruction from Solar Flare.” Newalk Publications – January, 20, 2019.

  Therefore, I started prepping. I watched the prepping show reruns on the History and A&E channels, bought a bunch of freeze-dried food, put a Bugout Bag together and made sure my old Ford was in top mechanical condition. Keeping the Ford in great shape was easy since I owned half of an auto repair shop. I became a little paranoid. Hell, my friends and fellow teachers thought I was more than a little nuts. Prepping was all I talked about and spent most of my time doing each day.

  Then one day there was an event at school that enabled me to spend all of my time prepping. I had been out to lunch braving the cold rainy day and returned to school with one of my fellow teachers. I was walking to the admin’s office just after lunch when I heard yelling coming from a classroom up ahead on the right.

  “Bitch, you can’t give me an F. The coach will cut me from the team.”

  “Tom, calm down. Put that knife away.”

  There was a scream, I ran to the room and looked in to see what was happening. A large boy had a knife to Mrs. Wall’s throat, backed up towards the door, and stopped in front of me. The students panicked and screamed at the boy holding the knife.

  I looked for something to use as a weapon and saw a fire extinguisher. I quickly removed it from the enclosure raised it in the air and struck the knife wielding assailant on the back of the head. He fell to the floor and the knife rattled across the floor.

  Mrs. Walls had a shallow cut on her throat, but was otherwise okay. She collapsed onto her chair as one student called 911. Several students came up to me and thanked me for saving their teacher’s life.

  The EMT’s arrived, pronounced the attacker dead, treated Mrs. Walls and then took her to the hospital to be examined. The principle separated me from the thankful students and took me to her office.

  “Matt, did you have to kill him? Why didn’t you wait for the police to handle the attack? His parents are going to sue the school. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  I was enraged by her ridiculous comment and replied, “I saved Mrs. Walls life and I’m not sorry that the scumbag student was killed in the process. Had you and the school board done your jobs that boy would have been behind bars years ago. The little bastard killed a cat and hung it from our flagpole. He broke a boy’s leg because he wanted his seat on the bus. He kicked Mrs. Bean because she made him go to the principle for disrupting class. He was a turd and you should have dealt with him years ago.”

  “Go home. You are suspended.”

  “Screw you. I quit.”

  ***

  When I left her office, two Police Officers “invited” me downtown to assist in the investigation.

  I spent four hours that night telling my story, filling out forms, undergoing seemingly unending interrogations, and finally in frustration I lawyered up. I called the law office that handled my parent’s estate, and they referred me to a criminal attorney. Smart move, I was out of there 20 minutes after he arrived.

  In the community, I was either a hero or child murderer depending on which channel you watched on TV.

  I stayed in my house for a week to avoid the reporters and cameras while I rethought the direction of my life. After a week of navel gazing, I called Sam and sought his advice.

  “Hey Sam, how’s the wife and kids?”

  “We’re all okay. How are you? I think it’s horrible how the media is treating you.”

  “Sam, this is one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

  “Really and how did you arrive at that conclusion?”

  “I was sick and tired of the daily grind at school. That school and most schools in the country are falling apart due to the government spending money on everything, except what was really needed.

  I couldn’t stand the administration letting those bastard kids get away with being hooligans.

  I really felt sorry for the good kids who came to school to learn, but were harassed by the thugs and jocks. I was ready to leave, but just didn’t have the guts.”

  “Well, if you are happy then I am happy for you. What are you going to do? Find a job?”

  “Nah, I have a small inheritance from my folk’s estate, and plan to live off the grid and prepare for the apocalypse. What do you think about Wyoming?”

  “If you like hunting, fishing and bears, it’s a great place. It would also be a great place to get away from the “Walking, Starving Dead” when the shit does hit the fan.”

  “Ayup, that’s what I thought, too. Can you help me get caught up on surviving an EMP or CME? I’m already signed up for some survival and first aid courses.”

  “I’d be glad to. I can show you my home made Faraday cages and give you plans for several different ones.”

  “What about a Faraday Cage big enough for a truck?”

  “Not a problem. It’s the same concept, but bigger and costs more. You just need a metal skin totally around the vehicle. A metal pole barn with no windows and a metal floor should work.”

  “When can we meet?”

  “I’ll come down to your house next Saturday. Have a six pack of Blue Moon for me.”

  “Done.”

  The next month sped by as I took short classes on first aid, solar installation, off grid living, survival cooking, sanitation, water purification…whew, I took a lot in, but I learned more than I could have ever imagined.

  I decided that I really would make some big changes. I called a realtor and put my home up for sale.

  The realtor inspected my parent’s home and said, “Matt, your folks put a fortune into this house and I won’t be able to get nearly what they have in it back when it’s sold. I mean, it’s a 6,000 square foot modern home with a pool, guesthouse and five acres in the high dollar section of Smyrna. I know the home has a lot of upgrades, but in this market I don’t think it will bring more than $700,000, and that’s if you give me six months to sell it.”

  “What can you get if you have to sell it in two months?”

  “I would guess around a hundred thousand less.”

  “Sell it in two months.”

  “My commission is 6%”

  “Get it sold now.”

  “The house is in great shape. It will sell quickly at the reduced price.”

  “I also want to sell my dad’s shop. Do you know anyone in commercial sales?”

  “Yes, our Nashville office can handle the sale. May I assume a quick sale?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll get my brother on board with the sale and be ready to discuss it with your broker.”

  “I have a friend in that division, his name is Fred Cabot. He’ll call you this afternoon. What do you think the business is worth?”

  “I turned down a million and a half a year ago from Nation Auto Repair. Wait, I think I should call them first. Sorry, but why pay a realtor if I can get a quick sale myself.”

  “I understand.”

  ***

  I called the general manager of the local Nation Auto Repair and he put me in touch with the VP of Acquisitions.

  “Mr. Jones, so you want to pursue selling to us now?”

  “Well, I have a realtor who says they can get me $1.9 million less the $115,000 realtor fee. I’ll take $1.8 and screw the realtor.”

  “Just a minute; I have to make a call.”

  As he spoke with the Executive VP for Acquisitions, I got the distinct feeling I was buying a used car. When he hung up he looked down and to the left, a sure sign he was lying, and with those hound dog eyes said, Matt my boss says he is definitely interested in purchasing your shop, but our top price is $1.6
mill.”

  “Well,” I said, “I understand. I’m sorry to waste your time, as well as mine. It’s good that I have another appointment at 2:00 pm. If he can’t meet my price, well, I guess I’ll just hold onto the property, and consider renting it out.”

  I stood, offered my hand and said, “Thanks, again, have a nice day,” and turned to leave.

  His sad expression turned sincerely sad as he said, “Matt, sit down, maybe I can get him to raise our offer. Let me call him back. Please, have a seat.”

  I remained standing and said, “I’m not here to negotiate a selling price. $1.8 mill is the price. As I said, I have another appointment in about an hour and a half. If your boss can meet my price, please feel free to give me a call. I’ll present it to my next appointment. Who knows, he may raise the bid.

  Good day, sir,” I said as I turned to the door.

  “Matt, Matt, please, come on back. Tell ya’ what I’ll do, I’ll give him a jingle right now and get his final offer. If he agrees to your price, can we conclude the deal, now? You can call and cancel your next appointment.”

  He stepped out of the room for five minutes, came back with a big smile on his face and said, “It’s a deal. Come by next Wednesday morning with a clear title and we’ll have the money wired directly to your bank just as soon as our lawyers okay the title.”

  I thought to myself, yep, I‘d smile all the way to the bank.

  We shook hands and I left to go have lunch and then find my brother. Buddy had been pestering me to sell the shop since the day he found out we inherited it.

  He and his wife were alcoholic yuppies living far beyond their means. The shop brought in $75,000 a year for each of us and would for many years, but his wife wanted a nicer house and a membership at the country club. I fought the sale for two years, but now I was ready to sell. I would take the money and buy my Bugout home in Wyoming.

  I sat in the restaurant searching my iPad for land for sale in Wyoming. I searched several web sites. You can buy a lot of land in Wyoming for half a million dollars and I would have over a million in the bank after all bills were paid and I relocated.

  On a whim, I called Buddy and he answered, “Little brother, how’s it hanging?”

  “I am great. Hey, I need to talk with you. Can you come over to Chili’s now?”

  “I’m busy. Now if you’ve finally come to your senses and want to sell the shop, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Get off your secretary and be here in five.”

  Buddy walked into the restaurant and several of the waitresses came over and gave him a hug. He kissed them all on the cheek, ordered a picture of Margaritas and came over to my table.

  “Little brother, I’m glad you came to your senses. Did killing that punk help you decide?”

  I punched him in the gut as hard as I could; he doubled over, sat down and when he could breathe again, said, “I should whip your ass, but I need the money. Perhaps I’ll whip your ass after the sale.”

  “Don’t you ever say anything like that to me again, bro. Besides, you’ll have to find me. I’m leaving town. I’m flying to Hawaii and Nashville can kiss my ass.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. How much will we make?”

  “We split $1.7 million after realtor fees.”

  “Holy shit, I thought the place was only worth $1.5. Kiss the realtor for me.”

  “He wouldn’t like that. Now, I’ll set up a meeting with our lawyer in the morning. Make sure you are there. You will sign whatever he tells you to sign and then next Wednesday I’ll give you a check for $850,000. You have to handle any taxes, capital gains etc. Check with your accountant.”

  “Hey, I’m a big boy. I can handle my own money.”

  “Yeah, I guess you can.”

  “Give me a call and your contact information when you get settled. Marge and I’d like to have a relative to visit in Hawaii.”

  “I’ll bet you would.”

  I shook his hand and left.

  ***

  “Matt, I have the paperwork ready. Where’s Buddy?”

  “Relax; don’t get your panties in a wad. He’s getting a ton of money and will be on time.”

  “Does he know that you are the realtor?”

  “Hell no, I worked hard to sell the property while he sat at every bar in town.”

  “You could have taken him to the cleaners, but I see you charged the standard 6%. All legal and kosher in my book.”

  Buddy barged in barely on time and said, “Where’s my money.”

  Our lawyer answered, “Buddy sign here, here and there. That’s all. Your money will be wired directly to your account by this time tomorrow.”

  “Great, come on little brother, let’s go celebrate.”

  “No thanks, I have work to do,” I said as I gave him a hug.

  I never saw or spoke to him again.

  The house sold three weeks later for $625,000 and I pocketed $587,500 plus another $150,000 from the sale of the furnishings, paintings and vehicles. I was flush with 1.7 million cash and itching to find a new home so I could get away from the reporters, critics, and people in general. I wanted to just be left alone.

  Be careful what you wish for, cause ya’ just might get it.

  ***

  Smyrna, Tennessee

  I made appointments with three different realtors that covered the entire state between them. I planned to give each one two days to show me their properties and then the following week I’d make a decision. I gave each one the following list of what I wanted:

  - A medium size log house with a fire place and a well

  - At least five acres of tillable land

  - A pond

  - A metal garage at least 40x60

  - 50 to 100 acres

  - No one living nearby

  - A river or lake nearby.

  - A stream on the property

  - No towns within 5 miles

  All of them wanted more detail about the house, and my family. We settled on a minimum of two bedrooms and two baths. I gave them a limit of $600,000-$700,000. They each sent six listings and asked me to choose three to speed up my visit and make it as productive as possible.

  I gave them a week to find suitable listings and flew out to Casper, which was closest to the first listings. I had three flights and had to change planes once to get to Casper.

  I always enjoyed looking down at the land, houses and farms below when I flew, but this time the scenery had more significance since I could be living on a piece of that ground below. There was still snow on the high peaks and the white blanket made a stark contrast with the rocky terrain and trees.

  Hatch Realty and Ann Baxter’s properties looked good on paper, but none of them was a fit for my needs. What I didn’t tell the realtors was that I hired a helicopter to shuttle me around for the week. I wanted to see the properties from the air. Yes, I did the Google Earth search, but nothing replaces a real time flyover. Four houses had been built in the 13 months since Google had last mapped the area. These four properties had neighbors less than two miles away and were too accessible.

  I was through looking at the houses by 10:00 am on the second day and instructed the pilot to fly me to Pinedale, which was 180 miles away.

  Pinedale, WY

  We landed at the Pinedale airport, I looked over at the pilot and said, “Roger, I will rent two cars and need you to take my bags over to the Lakeside Lodge, check us in and then I won’t need you until breakfast at 5:00 am.

  Our first listing is at 11:00 and I want you to fly us over all three before we pick up the realtor at 10:00. I hate surprises, so we’ll do a little scouting ahead of time. Here’s some money. Go try to enjoy yourself tonight.”

  “Sir, you already pay for everything.”

  “Please, take it. It will make me feel better. I’m going to drive into Pinedale and walk around to see if I like the place.”

  “Okay, and thanks. Remember not to exert yourself too much until
you get used to the altitude.”

  Damn, that’s why I was tired and breathing harder than normal. We were at 7,000 feet above sea level. The air is definitely thin up this high.

  The clerk at the counter said, “Mr. Jones we only have one of your cars here at the airport. You can take one and I’ll have someone give you a ride to our main office in Pinedale for the other car.”

  “That’s not a problem. Roger, take the car and I’ll go to Pinedale.”

  Roger left and headed to the lodge. I was waiting for a ride when several people came into the lobby from an inbound flight.

  The clerk looked up and said, “Patty, glad to see you back home. Sorry about your mom. How are the folks back in Colorado?”

  I looked over to the woman approaching the desk and saw an attractive red head wearing jeans, a Levi jacket and cowboy boots. She had a Stetson hat on top of her long red hair.

  “Carl, I’m glad to get home and away from my family. It was crazy. Everyone was fighting over mom’s house and possessions.

  Oh, I’m sorry, who is your friend?”

  “This is Matt Jones; he is interested in making Pinedale his home, if he can find a homestead that suits him. Hey, he needs a ride to our office. Could he hitch a ride into town with you? It would save me a trip.”

  She replied, “Hi Matt, I’m Patty Gale and I run the Gale General Store and Hardware Shop in Pinedale.”

  “Pleased to meet you, but I don’t want to impose.”

  “Nonsense, grab your gear and follow me to my truck.”

  “Thanks, I’m ready to go. I sent my gear on to the Lakeside Lodge with my friend.”

  She had 1967 short narrow bed Ford pickup that appeared to be in excellent condition.

  “I like your truck. Is it your husband’s hobby?”