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Wall IV The Brandon Slazenger Experience
Wall IV The Brandon Slazenger Experience
Wall IV The Brandon Slazenger Experience
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Wall IV The Brandon Slazenger Experience

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Brandon Slazenger grew up in his families Lexington Kentucky Chevrolet dealership and had been in his senior year at Yale looking forward to graduation and marrying his sweetheart when events suddenly plunged the world into apocalypse. Brandon and eight others found themselves abandoned and fighting for survival.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 20, 2013
ISBN9781301456635
Wall IV The Brandon Slazenger Experience
Author

Thomas G. Baker

After years of living on his sailboat in the small laid back village of Astor Fl.Tom has, as they say, has swallowed the anchor. He now resides in the tiny hamlet of Big Bone, Kentucky beside the creek bearing the same name. With an affable orange tomcat named Tom-Tom as companion he spends his days communing with nature, writing novels, and reminiscing with old and dear friends.

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    Wall IV The Brandon Slazenger Experience - Thomas G. Baker

    WALL IV

    The Brandon Slazenger

    Experience

    Thomas G. Baker

    WALL IV

    The Brandon Slazenger Experience

    This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.

    WALL IV The Brandon Slazenger Experience

    Copyright © 2012 by Thomas G. Baker

    ISBN 13: 9781301456635

    Smashwords Edition

    License Notes

    All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

    Table of Contents

    Chapter I The Collapse

    Chapter II Story of the Wind Machine

    Chapter III Deadly Misunderstanding

    Chapter VI The Willard Women

    Chapter V Turning Point

    Chapter VI Stuck in the Middle of Nowhere

    Chapter VII Case of Life or Death

    Chapter VIII Facing the New Reality

    Chapter IX Reunited Last

    Dedication

    I have dedicated this book to those few among us who diligently pursue the quest to unlock and understand the human experience, to unearth mans past and chart his course into future. Too many times they are the voices in the wilderness, the canaries in the coalmine their cries drown out by the herd of humanity as it blindly thunders along headed toward the wall, the ultimate wall.

    ****

    Preface

    Like the characters I write about, over my lifetime I have grown increasingly alarmed about the growth in world population. I see it as the greatest threat faced by mankind. By our failure to recognize and to act we may be condemning future generations to a life of abject poverty in a world unfit to live in, that is if there are future generations. I have attempted to present the reader with one possible scenario that I believe is the most likely though there are many others some even less desirable.

    ****

    Introduction

    Brandon Slazenger grew up and worked diligently preparing himself to take over his fathers Chevrolet Dealership in Lexington Kentucky. He was in his senior at Yale looking forward to graduation and marrying his college sweetheart when practically overnight the world as he had known it came to an end leaving Brandon fighting for his very life. This is the story and experiences of Brandon and his fellow survivors as they confront almost insurmountable odds in their two-year battle to survive the worse event in all of human history.

    ****

    Chapter I The Collapse

    I wolfed down the gruel then licked the inside of the bowl making sure to get every last morsel. Even through it tasted bland and smelled somewhat like dirty socks it came as a welcome change from my regular diet. The purveyor of the foul porridge sat across the table quietly eyeing me with what could best be described as casual amusement.

    There was no doubt I presented a wretched sight even in these wretched times. I’d seen myself in a mirror a few days ago and recoiled from the sight, for what looked back at me was a gaunt and ghastly creature that bore little resemblance to the robust young man that only a short time ago had inhabited my body.

    The smiling old man was Raymond Hines he broke the silence by saying, "Sorry about that crap but its not too bad once you get used to the smell. Besides its all Sonja could dig up at such short notice. It’ll be evening before the others get back so why don’t you go ahead and rest up then you’ll only have to tell the gory details once.

    Sonja, show the gentlemen to his room and round up some decent clothes. Mr. Slazenger, follow Sonja she’ll get you squared away. You’ll feel better after a hot shower and a good nap.

    I said, I can’t thank you enough especially since you don’t know anything about me.

    He said, Know enough. You don’t live very long these days if you aren’t a good judge of character. Sized you up right away and I haven’t been proved wrong yet. Besides the shape your in Sonja can whip your ass.

    I heard him chuckling to himself as I followed Sonja up the stairs. He was right Sonja appeared to be in her early twenties more handsome then pretty her hard lean athletic body already tanned a deep brown. Judging by the way she moved I was sure if the need arose she was more than capable of defending herself.

    I followed her down the dim motel hallway. She stopped at room 211 opened the door and said, Here you are all the comforts of home. Normally we try and go easy on the water it’s rationed but looking at the shape your in I think we can make an exception. You’ll find towels and everything you need I’ll bring you up some clean clothes. Suppers at six sharp I’ll make sure to wake you in time.

    I made a feeble attempt at a joke saying, Sorry I don’t have change for a tip.

    She answered, Don’t worry you’re not a guest. Dad will work room and board out of you before it over so enjoy it while you can.

    She left and I surveyed my surroundings. The room was neat and clean like stepping back in time. It was only when I looked out the window that I was reminded the motel was surrounded by desolation. I still couldn’t believe I was standing here in an air-conditioned room. There was so much I wanted to ask, but it would have to wait.

    I went ahead and showered the hot water and soap felt wonderful against my skin. It had been a month since I’d last had a real shower but I tried to conserve as much water as I could.

    I dried off and put on the terrycloth bathrobe hanging on the door and walked out into the room. Sonja had already been back and laid out clothes on the bed. I put on a pair of boxer shorts then stretched out for a nap, The gruel wasn’t getting along well with my empty belly and I knew by the growling it was in the process of debating on whether to send it up or let it go on down. It had been the first meal besides chicken I’d had in weeks and I was determined to keep it down if I could. Mercifully sleep overcame all the questions floating around in my head and the argument in my belly subsided as I drifted off.

    I was awakened by a knock on the door and Sonja calling, Five thirty everyone’s back, supper in half an hour.

    I got up and dressed and found she had made a good guess as the clothes fit though by looking at the size of the jeans I had lost a couple more inches in the waist. I found a comb and brush on the vanity but they did little good I still looked like an emaciated cave man but a least my hair and beard wasn’t matted with mud and sticks.

    I opened the door and peered both ways down the hall and found it empty. I could hear conversation coming from the direction of the stairwell so I headed toward it and warily made my way down into what had once been the motel lobby. There were over three dozen men and women lounging and talking most seemed young in their twenties to forties dressed in work clothes.

    By the time I reached the bottom all had turned for a look.

    I suddenly felt self conscious like a deer caught in the headlights and was thankful Sonja had taken notice. She broke away from the group and headed my way.

    She smiled and said, Don’t be bashful only a couple of them bite the rest are friendly enough and will only talk you to death.

    She turned to the group and announced, Everybody this is Brandon Slazenger you might say he walked in on dad and me this morning.

    She took me by the arm and dragged me through the crowd introducing me to each as we went. It became a blur of names and faces. I felt panic coming over me and if Sonja hadn’t had such a tight grip I would have likely bolted from the throng. Finally it was over, dinner was announced, and everyone drifted into the adjacent dining room. Sonja still attached to my arm steered me to the far end and seated me at a long table.

    Looking out across the crowded dinning room I felt conspicuous and somewhat embarrassed by my shaggy appearance and the fact that for the last month I hadn’t had any contact with other humans, at least not friendly ones. Three weeks ago I had been on my last legs and near death now here I was in an old Days Inn the featured guest and the focus of attention.

    Raymond and some other men came in and as he sat down beside me patted my shoulder. I hadn’t really noticed before but with his twinkling blue eyes, cheery smile, white hair and beard he reminded me of a classic Santa Clause.

    He said, Feeling better? Hope you still got an appetite I think you’ll find supper a little more palatable than breakfast.

    Sonja looked at me with a sly smile and chimed in, It’s your favorite chicken.

    I asked, Boiled?

    She said, Fraid not you’ll have to settle for roasted.

    I was a total stranger among these people yet they were going out of their way trying to make me feel at home and I sensed not a hint of animosity directed toward me. Dinner did come in the form of roast chicken and vegetables but I couldn’t bring myself to complain and washed it down with some type of strong home brewed ale. Even though I’d sworn off chicken it was one of the best meals I could remember in a long time. I attempted to stuff myself with vegetables but my shrunken stomach prevented me from finishing the whole plate.

    Sonja was sitting next to me and said, Starting to feel like your back in civilization?

    I said with a hint of sarcasm, Yeah especially the roast chicken. Kinda miss the boiled eggs a little. Have to say it’s great to sleep with air-conditioning again. Can’t wait til I hear the story of how you all managed to survive.

    Raymond overheard us and said, Tomorrow while your going after your friend Sonja will bring you up to speed. This evening you have the audience and if you feel up to it I’m sure everyone would like to hear about the events that brought you to our door.

    My job entailed talking to people but that seemed a lifetime ago. I didn’t know where to start, as so much had happened over the last year. It all seemed dreamlike or some terrible nightmare.

    It was unnerving and I was hesitant to stand and relate my life story to a room full of strangers but looking around could see I was committed and going to have to tell them something. I nodded to Raymond and he called for quiet in the dining room.

    I stood and looked at the faces before me and started, "My name is Brandon Slazenger. If any of you are familiar with Lexington, Kentucky you’ve likely heard of Bob Slazenger Chevrolet, that was my dad’s dealership. I was in my senior year at Yale when things started going south. I guess like most of you I didn’t have a clear picture of what was happening or how bad things would get.

    "I was at home riding it out with my folks when the situation reached the point where people began dying in the streets. Dad used his influence to get us shipped out with the army to a camp in Alabama. We were in one of the last convoys to leave and hadn’t made it quite to London, Kentucky when the truck we were riding in dropped a piston.

    A bunch of us guys volunteered to stay behind with the disabled truck so the women and children could go on ahead. We camped out along I-75 for a couple of days but nobody came back. There were fifteen of us including four soldiers. We didn’t have much food with us so it was decided we should try getting out on our own. I went with three other guys to scout around for another truck so we could transfer the fuel from the busted one and get the hell out of Dodge before one of the gangs happened across us." As I spoke my mind wandered back to that morning….

    ****

    It had been another miserable night. Only the army had any sleeping bags the rest of us had to make do with a blanket sleeping alongside the truck on the gravel berm. It began raining about four in the morning forcing us all to huddle in the truck, there wasn’t room to lie down, and the canvas leaked so none of us got any sleep. The rain quit around seven by then every one agreed we shouldn’t wait any longer for help. We were out of food and the interstate was a dangerous place. We’d been lucky so far that one of the roving gangs terrorizing the countryside hadn’t come across us.

    We split up into three groups of four and went in search of a diesel truck. There were three others in my group, army corporal Dennis Layton from St Louis, Norman Dennerly an orthopedic surgeon and Walter Critchburg a retired commercial pilot.

    I was the mechanic of the bunch. Dad was one of those who didn’t believe in coddling kids and I had been working in the dealership since I could walk starting out washing cars and by the time I was fourteen had become a first line mechanic and a pretty good body man to boot. It wasn’t all sweat and blood as for my sixteenth birthday dad rewarded me with a new Corvette.

    We picked our way over fences and through weed choked fields checking barns and garages as we went. It was eleven before we came across a decent prospect a Ford four-door Power Stroke diesel. I’d preferred a Chevy, but beggars can’t be choosers. Outside of a couple of dents in one door the truck appeared in great shape though I couldn’t tell the mileage. We checked the house and found the keys on a peg above the sink counter I went back tried the ignition and as I had expected the batteries were almost dead. Well we had a truck and keys so we went ahead and rounded up a couple of fuel jugs and hiked back to tell the others.

    We were the first party back so decided not to wait for the rest but go back and get right to work on the truck. We filled the jugs along with the ones we found in the army truck which gave us just shy of thirty gallons. While we were filling the jugs another party returned. They hadn’t had any luck and decided to go with us. We rounded up some poles so two guys could carry a jug between them and started back leaving three guys to wait on the last team

    Getting the truck running was going to be a problem as the pickup batteries were dead and the ones in the army truck were just too heavy to carry that far. Pushing the automatic wouldn’t work and another problem was fuel as the army used JP-8 jet fuel in its vehicles. I had one customer who ran his Duromax on the stuff and swore by it but there had been a couple of service bulletins to the contrary declaring the warranty void if we found JP-8 in any civilian vehicles we serviced. Among the problems cited was poor starting.

    This was one occasion when I definitely didn’t need poor starting. I’d come up with a half assed solution I felt would work. In the barn was an old Massy Ferguson 35 diesel tractor. With any luck we could dump in some fuel and as there were now eight of us we could push the little tractor down the hill for a start then use it to charge the batteries in the truck.

    We made our way back and dumped five gallons in the tractor after using the hand primer to make sure the injectors were bled we pushed it out of the barn and down the hill. Smoke rolled from of the exhaust and it finally caught at the bottom of the hill. I drove it back in third gear making sure to keep it revved up, as I wasn’t sure how well it would like the jet fuel. I pulled next to the truck, hooked up jumper cables, and we sat back to wait.

    I checked the fuel gauge and was relieved to see it showed an eighth of a tank at least it hadn’t been run completely dry so we wouldn’t have to start it using only the JP-8. Dennis found a can of either but I was hesitant to use it unless it became absolutely necessary. After an hour I got in and tried. The glow plug light went out and the engine turned over and made a little smoke just before the batteries gave out.

    We would give it a little more time, as I was pretty sure it would start. While we killed time a couple of guys went across the road to chase down a lone chicken we’d seen darting in and out of the weeds. A half hour went by and I was just about to get up and try it again when we heard the rattle of automatic weapons from the direction of the expressway. Dennis who had served in the Middle East said, 16s and at least one AK.

    Both soldiers started to head toward the sounds of battle but stopped, as there was an open field between us and the expressway that made it too dangerous for anyone to go and investigate.

    We were too far away to see what was going on but there was little doubt our party had been found and attacked. We only had two guys with rifles and it was likely if they went all they’d accomplish now was draw attention and get the rest of us killed.

    The shooting stopped and all we could do was try to get the truck running. I slid in and turned the ignition this time the diesel came to life but there was no cheering. No one uttered a word just stood solemnly looking at the running vehicle as off in the distance more shots could be heard.

    Our original plans had called for loading up with fuel and hauling ass south to catch up with the convoy but it had been over two days and by now the convoy was probably in Alabama.

    We dumped in the remaining fuel and judging by the gauge we had a little over a half tank. No more than couple of hundred miles worth not near enough to make the trip to Mobile. We could head south and hope we could find more diesel or an army unit, if not we’d be screwed.

    Food was a growing concern none of us had eaten much in two days. The one miserable chicken wouldn’t go far feeding eight hungry men. Along with the chicken we’d found a few tomatoes and some dried up corn in the overgrown garden. We built a fire and boiled everything together making a stew of sorts.

    While it was cooking we discussed our limited options. There was no sense going back to Lexington, and heading south we’d have to pass through Knoxville. Dennis and Aaron Whitetree the other army guy said without the protection of a convoy we didn’t stand a chance of making it through the city without a fight. We agreed we had to make a move soon because sitting here in the middle of nowhere we’d starve.

    Walter Critchburg the pilot said, Look we’re never going to get where we want to go by road. We’ll just wind up on foot and more then likely either starve or get shot. We need to find somewhere we can hold up long enough to figure out what we want to do. Someplace we can keep warm and do some hunting and fishing. I got a little place on Lake Cumberland if we can make it there I think we can survive for awhile. There’s enough fish in the lake so we shouldn’t starve and it’ll give us a chance to maybe think our way out of this mess.

    I hadn’t even though along those lines but it clicked and I said. He’s right we can’t get very far on the fuel we got so we need to have someplace in mind to go when we leave here. My dad’s also got a cabin and houseboat in Cumberland not far from Jamestown and Russell Springs. It’s out in the boonies but has really good access to the lake and plenty of woods surrounding it. We leave in the morning we could be there in an hour or two.

    A long discussion followed half the group was dead set on heading south and taking their chances but as the conversation went on one by one Walt and I gained allies so when the final vote was tallied we prevailed.

    Walt said his place was on Wolf Creek up the hill from Alligator II it overlooked the lake but had no direct access, dads did.

    Any hope we had for the others faded when we saw smoke rising and decided it could only be coming from the disabled truck. It had contained almost a hundred gallons of fuel but we were sure it had been emptied and set alight. After nightfall Dennis and Aaron went for a look. They came back in an hour bringing with them the only survivor.

    Rudy Simpson had been an agricultural major at UK and his family had a farm in Illinois on the Wabash River. Like us his group had found a garden. Rudy volunteered to stay behind and dig potatoes he had almost half a sack when the shooting started. He’d hidden out until the marauders pulled away then went to investigate. He said it was sickening only the soldiers and one other guy had been killed outright in the fighting the rest had been lined up and shot in the back of the head. They’d stripped the truck then set it on fire. Counting the bodies he figured we had been captured or more likely escaped so he waited hoping someone would show up. He said the bunch had gone south which gave us another reason not to head in that direction.

    The farmhouse was in fair condition so we camped out in it for the night. Guns had become a priority we searched but only found some 12-gauge shotgun shells and a box of 22 longs, no guns. From now on we would try to find weapons at every opportunity. We’d pretty much resigned ourselves to the fact we were nine men left to fend for ourselves in a very dangerous and hostile world.

    The next morning we decided rather than going south and hit 80 we’d backtrack to Mt. Vernon and take 461 across. We’d have to pass through Summerset but decided to chance it in daylight and haul ass through town as quickly as possible. We’d stop by Walt’s place and pick up his guns and fishing tackle then head for Dad’s cabin.

    We stopped to retrieve the sack of potatoes and took another half hour to dig up the rest and managed to fill another two sacks then hit the expressway north. I knew the way so got the job as driver. When we came to the exit at Mt Vernon it was blocked by a burned out semi so I turned around and went down the entrance ramp. We passed deserted gas stations and restaurants and turned on the bypass. So far it had been smooth sailing, the truck ran good, and I only had to dodge the occasional abandoned vehicle.

    About five miles passed 150 I saw what I thought was a large dog in the road but it turned out to be a hog. I slowed and hollered at Dennis who was riding in the bed. I stopped and he leaned over the cab and shot it. I pulled up to the still kicking animal, five guys jumped out loaded it, and we were on our way in less then fifteen seconds. I looked for signs of people but didn’t see anyone. I just hoped we hadn’t deprived some starving family of their prize possession.

    I thought they’d wait until we stopped but looking in the mirror I could see they were already butchering the damn thing in the truck bed even though we were clipping along at sixty miles an hour.

    I turned on to 80 and headed for Summerset there was a green pickup moving on the road in front of us. I hollered for Dennis and Aaron to be ready but the driver must have seen us as he quickly turned off on a side road and hauled ass out of sight.

    We were coming up on the intersection of 27 and 80 in downtown Summerset and I could see two black and white police cruisers sitting on either side of the road. As I approached two men stepped out into the roadway and raised their hands as a signal to stop.

    I heard Dennis shout, Don’t stop keep going.

    I slowed to around forty Dennis and Aaron were standing braced against the cab rifles pointed to either side covering the men who weren’t wearing any kind of uniform. Dennis shouted, US Army as we went by. They didn’t make a move to stop us just stood and stared. As soon as the intersection was cleared I accelerated back to sixty. The guys with the police cars were still standing and staring but made no attempt to pursue. I guessed if they had any fuel they were saving it.

    I got off on 76 and made my way to Walt’s with little trouble other than moving one small tree out of the road. Walt’s cabin sat at the top of the hill on the road leading down to the dock and there were four or five other cabins near by. When we pulled up an old man and woman came out of the house two doors down.

    Walt said, That’s old Sara and Burt Pollack they live here year round. He shouted, Hey Bert it’s me Walt Critchburg how you doing?"

    Bert started walking toward us and said, Didn’t think I see you again way things been going. Hear there getting pretty bad, that right?

    Walt said, It’s a hell of a lot worse than they were telling us. This country’s shot whole damned things falling apart. People dying by the thousands, next it’s gonna be in the millions. No food or gas anywhere. Even the damned governments gone out of business.

    Bert said, Figured as much when everybody hightailed it out of here cept me and Sara. Hasn’t been anybody through here since they sucked all the gas out of the boats down at the dock and that’s been a month back. Whole place is in one helluva mess and there’s three of them big houseboats done sunk already. Well the fishin’ been damn good so I shouldn’t complain.

    He said, Bert, were just passin’ through. Wanted to stop and get some stuff we’re going over by Jamestown the boy there say’s his dad’s got a nice place right on the lake.

    Burt said, If you’re lookin’ for your guns I got them over here at my place along with everyone else’s. Kinda in safekeeping so stop by and get em for you leave. Pick out any of the rest you want cause I don’t think anybody’s gonna be comin’ back lookin’ for theirs.

    Walt went into the house to gather up his stuff while we hung around outside. Burt wandered over to the pickup and looked at the slaughtered hog and all the gore.

    He said, You’ve all made a right fine mess out of that poor old hog. Tell you what. While Walt’s in there gettin’ his stuff together lets us go down to the ramp. Just let me get my knives and I’ll try to tidy things up. What the hell you’d do hack the damn thing apart with a machete?

    I told Walt we’d be back then drove down to the boat ramp. I backed the truck in up to the step bumper and we washed the truck bed and hog. Bert went to work slicing the pig up with the hands of an expert. He said, Worked for Kahn’s in Cincinnati for over twenty years must have cut up a million of these critters and it all starts out with a good sharp knife.

    In only a few minutes he had the hog butchered and the pieces lying in piles.

    He said, Got a lot of good stuff that’s going to go to waste but it’ll do you for a day or two. Better hurry up and eat it up cause pork don’t keep.

    We didn’t take any time to explore the dock and the lake was about as low as I had ever seen it. I surveyed the once bustling marina so forlorn and deserted and as Burt said I could see some of the houseboats had sunk while others looked like they were about to.

    Burt said, Kinda funny them expensive boats out there and all of em put together ain’t worth one good old Jon boat and a pair of ores.

    We went back up the hill Walt had his stuff ready we loaded it. There must have been fifteen fishing poles along with four large tackle boxes. Then we went over to Burt’s house to collect the guns. Burt had amassed quite a collection of rifles, shotguns, and pistols most were his. He said, Started collectin’ when I got back from Nam. These over here I’m keepin’ the rest you can pick through. Hell go ahead and take them all you boys likely gonna need all the firepower you can get. Them old MI carbines are nice and both those 30-30s with the scopes are dead on so is that Remington 250. I’d just soon have em out of the house. Fewer guns we got less likely somebody’s gonna kill us for em. I do most my huntin’ with that little 22 anyway.

    We took the guns and ammunition out to the truck, there were more than enough to arm us all. We gave Burt his choice of the hog but he took only some pork chops and the fat so he could render lard for frying fish.

    As we drove along I hoped our place was still there and hadn’t been trashed or burnt down. I was relieved when we came to the gate it was overgrown and

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