The Home Front...

Max Karneges Home in Rural West Kentucky

The trip home from Louisiana had been uneventful, though Max had noticed a much larger than normal amount of Ambulances on the highways.

Now on this Tuesday afternoon, after having arrived home late the previous night, Max had finally taken the time to sit and relax a few minutes and watch the national news where he first learned of the seriousness of the "sickness" that seemed by all accounts to be of worldwide Pandemic proportions.

Max felt a chill run up his spine as he remembered the guys from Southern Approach who were exhibiting the exact same symptoms as the newscaster was descibing, and realized that the timeline fit and.....that he had been exposed.....

Max stood and walked towards the back of the house, "Dear...how you feeling?", he asked his wife Jo who had been sick with the "flu" when he got home, and was currently in the bed looking miserable.

"I'm still sick....could you put me some chicken noodle soup on the stove?", she asked.

"I'll do it right now.", Max replied as he worriedly went into the kitchen and began fixing a can of soup for his wife.

While the soup was warming on the stove, Max picked up the phone and began calling his relatives and her relatives to see who was sick and who wasn't. The results of his survey were not good, his 82 year old father, his 2 brothers and his daughter who was in college in Iowa, seemed to be the only close relatives not sick....Max figured it was too much of a coincidence for all the illness in the family to NOT be connected to the pandemic.

The soup finally warmed up and Max poured it into a bowl and carried it to his wife.

"Here you go dear, you eat that up and get some clothes on and I'll be carrying you to the doctor."

"I'm not going to the doctor." Jo replied. "I've seen the news, the hospitals are getting swamped and I'm not going to go and sit in the waiting room for hours and hours waiting to be seen."

"But dear..." Max started to reply....

"No buts, Maxwell Eugene Karnage, I'm not getting out in that mess." Jo stated with a tone that Max knew from 20 years of marriage meant her mind was made up and he couldn't change it.

So Max went and got back on the phone and then walked across the driveway to his parents house here on the family farm and tried to convince his 78 year old mother to go to the hospital, with the same result....

"We've talked to your brother, he is at the hospital right now with his wife and has been for four hours and they are still in the waiting room. I'm staying right here!", was his mothers indignant reply.

"Alright Mamma, call me if you need anything, I'm going to make a run to town and get some more soup and a few things." Max replied.

"Bring us a few cans of soup, a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk." Max mother said.

Max father stood up and reached for his wallet to give Max some money...

"I'll get it Daddy, you've helped me enough over the years." Max said.

His dad still pulled out twenty dollar bill and handed it to him. "Take it anyway."

So Max took it, knowing he would drop it in the grocery sack and leave it there when he brought the requested groceries back.

Then Max left and returned to his house next door to tell his wife he was going to town...

Max went into the bedroom to let his wife know he was going to town after a few things.

"I'm running to town to get some stuff for us and Momma and Daddy", he told Jo as he went to his side of the bed and pulled his leather TripleK holster from the top drawer of his chest of drawers, along with the double magazine pouch for his Auto Ordinance 1911A1 .45 automatic.

Jo had a coughing fit and said, "You be careful honey."

"I will," Max replied as he put the mag pouch on his belt along with the sheath for his Buck 110 lock blade knife.

He then pulled his .45 from its 1912 pattern holster and gun belt hanging from the corner of his shelves on his side of the bed and placed it in the TripleK and stuck it in the front waistband of his levis, off to one side where it would catch on his belt buckle and where he could draw it in a crossdraw with his left hand.

Max wasn't left handed, but since the loss of his right eye, he had retrained himself to shoot left handed, though he could still shoot hand guns right handed if he cocked his head to sight with his left eye, though this was not as accurate for him. He could still point shoot at close range very well right handed.

He then reached into his top drawer and pulled out the tiny case that contained his little Cobra .22 magnum Derringer, that he referred to as his Shirt Pocket gun and dropped it in his right breast pocket of his cotton khaki shirt, after loading it with two .22 magnum hollowpoints.

Lastly he picked up the two knives from the top of his chest and clipped one into each front pocket of his jeans. A small spring assist opening general purpose knife in his left and a medium sized folder that had a seat belt cutter and glass breaker on the butt end, the blade of which was a smaller version of a M3 Trench Knife. It was decorated with a small Marine Corps Eagle, Globa and Anchor on one side and went to his right hand pocket.

"Make sure you've got your wallet", Jo said followed by a coughing fit.

He nodded and picked up his wallet from the chest top and pulled his camo jacket with the hoodie in it, from its hanger behind the door, slipped it on and stuck the wallet in its left breast pocket. He sometimes ran off and forgot his wallet and would remember it down the road and have to come back and get it as it contained his Concealed Carry Permit and he didn't want to get into trouble with the King Shit local cops, who were more fat and sassy than real cops.

Lastly, he reached up on the shelf and selected his camo Fedora style hat and he was ready to go.

He blew his ailing wife a kiss, told her he loved her and went outside, locking the door behind him.

He looked across the harvested fields and saw nothing of interest as he climbed into his Suburban, cranked up its 350 engine and eased out of the driveway and turned East to head to the highway.

Town - A small town of about 10,000 in rural west Kentucky

The trip to town had been uneventful as always. Once he had reached the highway, the traffic had been light, but that was not unusual in this rural setting for the time of day. He had driven the 9 miles up the highway to town in the usual few minutes as the stretch of road was the straightest in the county and there was not one single curve in the entire length of the road and only one major intersection that required a four way stop.

The highway came into town behind the local Wal-Mart and its companion strip mall of smaller stores, but Max bypassed them and went on down to the Gulf station where he filled up the 42 gallon tank of the Suburban, using his check card at the pump to pay for the purchase.

Then he drove down to the local sporting goods store to see its owner, Jerry. A man he had literally known his whole life.

Max parked next to the store and entered its cool, dimly lit interior. Jerry wasn't one to waste money on heating and lighting the whole store and Max saw Jerry perched behind the counter wearing a camouflaged M65 Field Jacket and a wool Watch Cap, but Max ears picked up the hum of a small electric heater under the counter blowing on Jerrys feet.

"Hey Max, how ya doing?" Jerry asked as he climbed down from his stool and walked down behind the counter.

"Bout right Jerry. Hows business?" Max responded.

"Slow...this damn pandemic has got folks scared Max, ain't many folks coming to town like they usually do." Jerry waved a hand towards the big plate glass windows in the front of the store to indicate he had been watching the traffic and had noticed the difference.

"I reckon....Did that ammo I ordered come in yet?" Max asked.

"Yep sure did." Jerry said as he made his way from behind the counter to go to the rear of the store and get it. He presently returned with a case of Wolf 55 grain .223, and a case of UMC 230 grain .45 ACP FMJ and topping off the load on the hand dolly was a case of UMC 115 grain 9mm and five 20 round boxes of 175 grain semi jacketed soft points for his 7mm Mauser.

"You planning on starting a war?" Jerry joked with Max.

Max grinned and said, "Naw, I woulda had you order ten times that much, I just need to stock up so I can get some more range time in and rotate out some of my older stock."

"How you liking that Coach Gun I sold you a while back?" Jerry asked.

"Its sweet man, perfect little defense gun. I always wanted me one of them double barrel, double hammer shotguns." Max said with a smile.

"I'm glad you like it...Make sure you tell folks where you got it!" Jerry said as they settled up the bill.

"I always do Jerry....Oh, by the way, do you need me to print off any more of them Smith and Wesson rebate forms for you?" Max asked Jerry. (Jerry was leery of them new fangled computers, so he often had Max print him some forms and such from various retailers and manufacturers)

"Naw, I still got some. I messed up when I ordered those 9mm Sigmas. Everyone wants a .40 caliber. I can order and sell the .40's as quick as I get em, but I've only got rid of one of the 9mm's. I won't order anymore 9mm's unless someone comes in asking for one."

"Damn that sucks." Max said as Jerry rolled the hand dolly out to his truck and they loaded the ammo up.

"Well, Jerry, I gotta go get some groceries for us and Daddy."

"How is your daddy, he ain't stopped in here in a while." Jerry asked.

"He is staying busy mechanicing for folks and doing a little work around the farm." Max replied.

"Well tell him I said howdy and to stop by and see me sometime."

"I'll do it Jerry. Well, see you later." Max finished as he climbed into the truck.

"See you later, Max." Jerry replied as he began pushing the dolly back to the store.

Max cranked up and wove his way through the residential neighborhoods to avoid the few stoplights as he headed towards the local Food Giant store.

Food Giant - In Town

Max eased the big Suburban into one of the many vacant slots in the small parking lot of the Food Giant and swung down from the drivers seat, hitting the electric lock button as he did so.

As he slammed the door shut he heard an irritated female voice coming from up near the entrance to the store....

"You heathens go away and leave me ALONE!" The woman said with a frightened waiver coming in at the end.

"What you gonna do Grandma? Tell my momma?" said a youthful male voice in a mocking tone.

Karnage stepped around the corner of his truck and saw three teenaged boys, the leader of which was wearing a black trench coat, surrounding and harrassing an elderly woman. The boys contiued to circle her like a pack of wolves as Max approached quietly.

As Max approached unnoticed by the three thugs, he unzipped his jacket and checked that his .45 was ready to slide out of its holster easily, but he didn't want to use it if he could avoid it.

Instead, Max pulled his knife from his right pocket, but left it closed and held so that the glass breaking pommel was protruding from the bottom of his closed fist and the grossguard was sticking from the top of his closed fist.

When Max had closed to about 15 feet from the thugs and lady, he said quietly, "What are you boys doing harrassing a sweet little ol' lady?"

The thugs stopped their circleing of the woman and moved into a line between her and Max, the lady looked at Max and he slightly moved his head indicating for her to leave.

The lady silently and tearfully mouthed a 'Thank you' as she hurried away to her car, pulling a cell phone from her purse.

The thug in the black trench coat mouthed off at Max with a bravado he hoped would scare Max off. "What you interfering in Mafia business for old man?"

"Mafia?" Max asked with a smirk.

"Damn right, we're the West Kentucky Trench Coat Mafia....you don't know who you messin' with."

"So let me guess, you boys were gonna take the old lady for her Social Security check, so your two chump buddies here could get themselves some black trench coats too?" Max taunted them quietly. He didn't want to hurt the boys, but figured these undisciplined little snots could benefit from a good old fashioned ass whooping and he reckoned he aimed to give it to them...before the law arrived.

The boys who couldn't have been any older than 16 were feeling pretty good about their odds, three of them and one of Max, so they moved in quick, the trench coat wearing punk in the lead.

Max sidestepped the leader and let him rush past him and reached out with his left hand and grabbed the back of his trench coat at the waist and held on, jerking the boy to a stop and then pulling him backwards off his feet to land flat on his back. Then as Max dropped the back of the trench coat over the leaders head, the second boy was fast approaching, so Max drove his right fist upwards and the crossguard of the closed knife caught him right below the sternum and knocking the wind out of him.

As the second boy began to double over, but was still moving forward with his momentum, Max sidestepped even futher and delivered a swift kick to the boys ankle with his steel toed boot at the same time as Max pushed him hard on the shoulder. The boys ankle gave away from the intense pain of the kick and he stumbled over and fell on top of his leader.

The third boy was beginning to slow down in his rush as he saw how his buddies ended up, but he was already close enough that Max reached out and grabbed him buy the collar and jerked him in close and off balance as he drove his knee up into the boys nuts, and as the boy went pale, Max shoved him backwards onto his buddies.

The two cronies rolled around on the ground holding their various injured parts and trying to breath, while tears ran out of their eyes. Their trench coat wearing leader, who up to this point was relatively uninjured was trying to get out from under his buds and get the trench coat from over his head. Max didn't give him the opportunity.

He reached down and grabbed the coat by its tails and pulled hard. The boy was dragged from under the pile and jerked to his feet, where Max again pulled the coat over his head and then quickly reached around him and pulled the coat around the boy from both sides, trapping his arms and head in the coat.

Max dropped his knife into his pocket, then bent the boy over and gave him a good old fashioned spanking with his open hand and finished the boy off with a hard kick to his calf muscle with his steel toed boot to insure the boy didn't try to run away before the law arrived, and shoved him face first into the ground, where the boy lay on the ground crying under his coat.

Max looked around for anymore trouble and seeing none, he pulled out his battered metal cigarette case and lighted up a Camel, then reached into his pocket and pulled his knife back out and reclipped it to its proper place just inside his pocket.

"Excuse me, young man." Max heard from a short distance away. He turned his head and saw the little old lady motioning for him to come closer.

Max approached and the lady said, "Thank you so much from saving me from those heathens!....But the police said they cannot send a car for at least an hour as they are short on men due to the sickness and all."

"Alright ma'am, you go on about you business and I'll take care of these boys." Max told her.

She laid a hand of thanks on his arm and then hurried away to her car and drove off.

Max went over to his truck and got a length of rope from the back and returned to the boys and roughly hog tied each of them and dragged them to the sidewalk.

"You boys stay put." Max scowled at them as he went into the store and found the sickly looking manager and explained the situation to him.

The manager nodded and said, "I've been meaning to put security cameras in the lot, but just have not had the money, I'll tell the law what happened when they get here."

Max made the offer to write down his name and contact info, but the manager refused, "I'll just tell them it was a stranger who saved Mrs, Alcott, no need to make trouble for yourself."

Max nodded and went about his business of getting the groceries he had come to town for and went to pay for them where the manager tried to not charge him, but Max refused to be let off the bill and paid for them and said, "Put the money towards better security." Max told him as he headed out the door towards his truck.

The trip home was thankfully, just as normal as the trip to town had been.

The Next Few Days in Kentucky

Over the next several days Max had watched things go from bad to worse.

The National Guard had came around with the Health Department and given everyone who wanted it, a Vaccine for the sickness. Only thing was it had made everyone who took it sick as a dog.

Max had refused the vaccine as he figured if he hadn't gotten sick yet, with all the sick people he had been exposed to, he wasn't likely to get sick.

His father had gotten sick though, so Max as he lived next door took on the burden of caring for both his sick parents as well as his sick wife, as his brothers had there on sick family members to take care of and lived several miles away.

Max had called his daughter at college in Iowa and told her to get down to her cousins farm, they were not sick as of yet and were expecting her. He had told her if the vaccine became available where she was it was up to her if she took it, but Max had told her that everyone he knew that took it had gotten real bad sick.

His father seemed to be making a recovery, but then pneumonia had set in and he went down hill fast. The hospitals were beyond capacity and the small county ambulance service was inoperable due to no one being well enough to operate the vehicles.

His parents died literally within a few hours of each other, it seemed that his father had given up on living when Max mother to whom he had been married for more than 60 years had died.

Max had tried to get the coroner or a funeral home, but that was useless as well. So he did the only thing he knew to do, he went up the road to the closest neighboring farm to borrow their backhoe, so he could dig a family plot at home.

He knocked on the door, but got no response, so he eased the door open and entered calling his neighbors name and still received no response, even though he knew they must be home as their vehicles were in the driveway.

He found them dead. The wife was in the bed and the husband was laying in the floor next to the bed clutching the old outdated corded phone.

Max leaned down and picked up the receiver which was making a loud and rapid "busy signal" sound and placed it back in its cradle.

He pulled the covers up over the wifes face and pulled a blanket from the back of a rocking chair in the living room and laid it over the husband.

Max then went out and got the neighbors backhoe and drove it back to his families farm, where when he went in to check on his wife, he found her dead as well.

Max sat quietly on the bed with her and held her hand for awhile, then gave her a final kiss, just before pulling the covers up over her head.

Then Max went and got on the phone and told his brothers what had happened and learned they had wives who had died that day and they would come, bringing their dead and bury them in a family plot behind the house.

Max had went out to man the backhoe and start the graves, but had decided the best route would be to dig one large grave. He hated the idea of a mass grave, but supposed it really didn't matter at this point. He didn't have the luxury of a proper funeral.

His brothers had arrived while he was still digging and had objected to the mass grave as well, but Max had convinced them they would have them properly buried when things got back to a semblance of normalcy.

They wrapped their family in blankets and tarps for protection and laid them to rest side by side in the mass grave. After a few moments of silence and none of them really feeling like saying anything, Max had filled in the grave which he had dug extra deep for protection from digging animals.

They marked the grave with a temporary, but sturdy marker and then Max had his brothers help to bury the neighbor and his wife, whom they had all known there whole lives.

Maxs brothers had returned to their homes as Max had went to the neighbors to return the backhoe and retreive his truck.

Max then returned to his empty house......

The next few days were pretty awful around the country and close to home. Intermittent power failures of various lengths, millions of people dieing around the world and close to home...

Max had buried all of his relatives except for his brothers and their kids and had buried all of his in-laws and had, when not dealing with death, tried to carry on the function of a working farm, stopping only long enough to eat and sleep and watch the evening news.

The news was full of the deaths of high ranked government officials and the collaspe of social services and disaster relief agencies the country and world over and of looting and pillaging and murdering the world over.

Then came the news of that the sickness was confirmed by the White House and intelligence services as being a man made and intentional terrorist act.

Max had immediately called his daughter, "I'm coming to get you and bring you home! Stay put, stay indoors unless you must go outside and barricade yourselves in the house....Things are only going to get worse....It'll take me a few days to get there probably, but I'll be there as fast as I can." Max had told her.

Max had gotten ahold of his older brothers and made arrangements for them to keep a check on the farm.

Then Max had set about the task of readying the Suburban for a road trip and loading gear and supplies for what he fully expected to be an extended journey.

Max had serviced his Suburban and stocked up with extra oil and other fluids and easily changed parts such as wiper blades and such as he was going up into "snow country". He had also added in the heavy duty, 25 foot long jumper cables that they used on the farm to crank tractors and combines as well as assorted tools.

He threw the tow strap and a couple of chains in as well, along with a 120 foot coil of his rappel rope and his collection of D-rings and Locking "Stubai" locking D-Rings which were the only d-rings he would put his life in the hands of, having used them for years and years.

He loaded in the old wooden, olive drap, service foot locker that he used to store the families emergency supply of rations as well as cleaning out the cabinets of other canned and dry goods, last on the food front he loaded the remainders of the 50 lb bags of dog food for his big dogs and the little dogs.

Next he loaded several changes of clothes and his camping supplies, including his cold weather gear, web gear, ALICE pack and sleeping bags and extra blankets for both him and his daughter.

Max stepped back and looked at the big Surburban and was not pleased with how jammed full it was, so he hitched up the small metal 8 foot trailer and redistributed the load with the items that wouldn't harmed by weather now on the trailer, thus creating much more room inside the passenger compartment and increasing his load capacity.

Max didn't want to increase the load on the trailer to much, but he did go ahead and add the chainsaw and a can of premixed fuel and oil, spare oil and bar lube for the saw along with a spare chain and the sharpening kit.

He also added four 5 gallon fuel cans with spout and a funnel along with the old, 12 volt fuel pump and hoses they used to remove fuel from vehicle fuel tanks when they needed to replace a fuel pump or otherwise make repairs to a tank.

Lastly, he added four 5 gallon jugs of water, to use for cooking, cleaning and drinking. He figured when he got up to where it was colder, the motion of the water moving as the trailer bounced should keep most of it from freezing and at night when he was stopped he could place them inside the truck or out next to a fire if he built one.

He went to get a tarp and straps to cover the loaded trailer and as an after thought went ahead and grabbed a couple extra tarps and some extra straps and placed in the trailer under the coverage.

Finally satisfied with how the loaded Suburban and trailer looked, Max pulled the truck and trailer inside the fenced back yard with his big male German Shepard "Shiloh" and female half collie half coyote (known as a coy-dog) "Dixie", so they could keep an eye on it overnight, as his loading process and servicing of the truck had taken longer than he wanted, and he would now leave early the next morning.

He, played with Dixie and Shiloh for a few minutes and then went inside and began sorting out his weapons and ammunition to be loaded the next morning.

That done, he went and got the big cooler which would be loaded last with all the frozen meat from the freezer he could carry and the remainder of the meat, he had arranged for his brothers to come get, as well as all the foods and meat from his parents house. He sat the cooler in the kitchen floor until morning and then went and took a shower.

He got lucky and had just gotten the last of the soap rinsed off when the power went out again.

Max got out of the shower, dried off in the dark, then eased into the bedroom and got his flashlight from his shelf and lighted up a kerosene lantern and went and tripped the breaker to the water heater and went over to his parents empty house and tripped the breaker there as well, before going back to his own empty and dark house.

He fished out his battery powered 7 inch, portable digital tv he had bought for use during storm related power outages and settled down on the bed to watch the local news......as had become the norm of late, the news was not pretty.....

The power had come back on during the night, but Max didn't bother with the breakers to the water heaters as he would be leaving as soon as he could get loaded up and had a bite to eat.

He dressed in his typical Levis, boots, t-shirt and long sleeved denmin shirt, then began loading his guns and ammo in the Suburban.

He loaded his old 7x57mm Mauser, M44 Mosin-Nagant Carbine, Ruger 10/22, SKS, Mossberg 500 12 gauge pump, Double barrel 12 gauge coach gun, Colt Sp-1 (AR-15 "shorty) and his Sterling L2A3 semi-auto, Suppressed, 9mm carbine and as much associated ammo as he could stuff into various places in the truck and trailer.

He had considered taking his black powder arms and the old single shot 12 and 20 gauges, but decided against it and instead stashed them in various spots that were likely to be overlooked by looters. He did take a couple of 1 pound cans of Black Powder though, then thinking better of it, he went ahead and got all the guns he had stashed and rolled them into a tarp and placed them in the trailer. So he had 2 single shot shotguns a 12 and a 20 and his .50 caliber Hawken rifle as well as 3 cap and ball revolvers.

He returned to the house and strapped on his 1912 pattern leather gunbelt and dropped his .45 automatic into the holster and made sure his Kabar was resting comfortably on his left hip.

He stuck two .45 magazines into the leather magazine pouch and dropped the rest in the hip pockets of his M65 style field jacket that was hanging on the back of his door.

He pulled his concealed carry vest from its hanger and slipped it on and put his Kel-Tech P-11 9mm into its left breast concealed carry slot and the spare magazines inside the vest in their slots at the waste.

He pulled his small .22 magnum derringer from the drawer, loaded it and slipped it into his right breast shirt pocket and dropped a small box of 50 cartridges for it in his field jacket pocket.

Last he went to his wifes bedside nightstand and pulled her Taurus model 606 "Hammerless" .357 magnum revolver from it, checked it and laid it on the bed as he puilled on his coat and hat.

Picking the revolver up, he stuck it in his belt as he "scatted" all the cats outside and called his two toy poodles Jake and Nikita to go outside and he made the final securing of the house, knowing his brothers would or should come by and check on things periodically and knowing the cats could fend for themselves as they were old farm cats and hunted often and had enough sense to get into the barn where roving dogs and coyotes couldn't get at them.

After Jake and Nikita had done their business in the yard, he loaded them into the front of the Suburban, he called his two big dogs, Shiloh and Dixie and they came a running and jumped into the middle seats of the truck.

Max pulled his truck out of the fenced backyard and then locked up the gate, got back into the truck and stuck the .357 in the console and made sure the Colt Sp-1 and Coach Gun were readily accessable in the passenger front floorboard. He had opted on having those two guns up front as the Colt had the highest rate of fire and decent barrier penetration and the Coach Gun, while only having two shots, had the intimidation factor of being a Double Barrel shotgun. He knew better than to rely on "looks" for dealing with a situation, but he also understood how many folks thought and the fear at seeing those big old, cold, dark "eyes" of the double looking at them.....It may not work in all situations but it would work in some and hopefully he would have to try it out anyway.

Everything loaded, he made a final look around and got into his truck and headed out towards town and the Purchase Parkway.....

Max made good progress up the Purchase Parkway to I24 and headed on towards St Louis, making note of cars in the median and on the sides of the road and in some instances, just stopped in the middle of the road, their occupants very obviously dead or dieing.

He paid them no mind though and didn't stop to check on them, he simply noted them in his head in a detached, clinical sort of way as a potential fuel source for his return journey.


Max followed I24 to I57 and there to I64 before turning towards St Louis proper and then heading North on I55 up into Illinois.

The futher North he drove, he bagan to encounter snow covered roads that had not been cleared by plows or salted and his progress slowed dramatically.

He had been driving for several hours, only stopping long enough to piss in the middle of the road and allow all four dogs to do the same. He was tired, damn tired.

Max had sense enough to know that it was time to pull off the road and somewhere as safe as possible and get some sleep.

Anyplace obviously habitated by people he planned on avoiding, because things were bad, real bad, and the bad times had seemed to bring out the worst in some people. So he was going to avoid all people if at all possible.

He pulled of on an exit for Litchfield, IL, which the road atlas showed to be a fairly rural region with many small roads in the area.

He drove down the secondary road a few miles until he found what he was looking for, an old ramshackle hay barn a couple hundred yards off the road in a field, with no houses in site.

He eased into the snow covered dirt track to the barn and drove down to the barn and around behind it, before stopping the big Suburban.

Getting out, Max stood and smoked a cigarette as he listened for any sounds from inside the barn or from the surrounding countryside. The whole area was eerily silent and seemingly devoid of human occupation other than Max.

He opened the side door and called his two big dogs out as he pulled his SP-1 from the front floorboards and they followed him towards the barn.

He eased the door open and and slipped inside with his dogs and said, "Check it out". Dixie and Shiloh went about the barn sniffing and looking, then sat in the central hallway, looking at him....No one was here and it appeared no one had been for years.

He eased the doors fully open and drove the Suburban and trailer inside, then looking around, he found and old broom which he carried out swept out his trucks tracks and his foot prints to the road and back as best he could. He couldn't completely hide them, but it appeared that the tracks were made before the last snow anyways and judging by the sky, there was likely to be more snow tonight.

Satisified, Max went in and closed to Barn doors and let his little dogs out to use the bathroom and explore as he unpacked the bare minimum he would need for the night as well as pulling his shotgun and some spare magazines for the SP-1 out and handy.

Pleased with his "accomodations", Max began making his supper on his Trangia Type Alcohol Stove and fed the dogs as his supper cooked in the small Swedish Surplus Mess Kit that he had been using in the field for years.

Later as he ate, a cold chill ran up his spine and Max pondered whther or not it was the cold or the gravity of the situation at hand that had caused it....

"Just the fucking cold..." Max muttered to himself.

Early the next morning Max was laying in his sleeping bag, just waking up when his little apricot colored female toy poodle Nikita, who was nestled in his armpit for warmth, raised her head up and growled as she looked towards the front of the barn.

Jake his little male poodle who was crawled down by his knees in the sleeping bag began to growl as well as the Shiloh and Dixie, who also stood up and walked to the front of the barn.

Max silenced them all with a quiet "shhh", as he eased out of the bag and stuck his bare feet into his boots and eased towards the front door, picking up his Colt Sp-1 along the way.

He got to the front door and peered through the crack towards the road, where he saw a pickup truck stopped and two men armed with shotguns, standing beside it looking at the partially filled in tire tracks leading to the barn.

Max couldn't hear what was being said, but clearly by their looks and gestures they were debating on coming to the barn and checking it out.

One of the men pulled out a cell phone and tried making a call, but by his actions, Max determined he couldn't reach whom he was wanting to get in touch with.

With a few more apparently angry words, the men began advancing up the track towards the barn, with the shotguns held in a "ready" position more suited to bird hunting than man killing.

Max quickly moved back and put the little dogs in the Suburban and moved back up to the door with his rifle and peered through the crack again and watched as the men approached to about 50 yards from the barn, when the man with cell phone, phone rang.

He stopped and answered it. This time Max culd hear what was being said...

"Yeah Jim, I tried to call you...There is somebody holed up in the Stevens old barn. By the looks of it, they got a truck and trailer, judging by the tracks in the snow.....Yeah, yeah, thats what I figured too, somebody evacuating and got themselves a trailer load of goodies ripe for the taking....Might even have em some women....Yeah, okay, me and Joe Don will keep em holed up until you and the boys get on down here....See you in about 15 minutes."

As he closed his cell phone and disconnected the call, Max was already in motion. These assholes and their friends were intending on taking his stuff, and probably killing him, so he wasn't going to let that happen.

Max eased the door open just and inch or two and stepped back and raised his Colt to his shoulder and eased off the safety as he pushed just the flash suppressor through the widened crack in the doors.

The man with the cell phone, was fumbling with his phone trying to get it back inside the pocket on his coat, when there was a spray of arterial blood from his buddy Joe Dons throat followed shortly by the roar of the Colts report from its 16 inch barrel.

Joe don clutched at his throat as he dropped his shotgun in the snow. Cell phone man stood shocked for a few fractions of a second looking at his friend and he never heard the second report from the Colt as the 55 grain full metal jacket entered his head just above his ear and exited the far side of his head in a small spray of pinkish blood and gray brain matter and his body fell straight down like a sack of grain.

Joe Don was choking on his own blood and looking horrified at his friend as his vision began to go dark and he took a couple of stumbling steps backwards and he too collasped into the snow.

Max was already on the move and throwing what gear he had out, back into the Suburban, when he realized he hadn't even dressed yet. He finished throwing his gear in the truck and quickly pulled his clothes on.

He quickly moved forward and pushed the barn doors open against the snow and he loaded the the dogs, made a final look around to be sure he had not forgotten anything, and pulled out of the barn and headed down the track.

He considered stopping long enough to grab the two hunting shotguns, but decided against it and drove on around the bodies.

He had to stop long enough to move the truck out from in front of the end of the track and luckily the keys were in the switch. He didn't know from which way "Jim and the boys" would be coming from, but he hoped it was from the way opposite the way Max had to go to get back to the interstate, so he parked the truck across both lanes, between the snow filled ditches and tossed the keys way out in the field and snow as he ran back to the Suburban.

He drove as fast as was safe down the road and was soon back on the interstate without futher incident and without passing any other vehicles.

The tension eased out of Maxs shoulders and the adrenaline drained away as Max put more ditance between himself and what had turned....literally...into a killing field.

Max took a moment to light up a Camel and exhaled a blue cloud of smoke as he contemplated what had just taken place.....He had no real choice in the matter but to do what he had done, otherwise, he likely would have been killed for his stuff....and that was not acceptable....He had to get to his daughter and get her home safely and he would do whatever it took to do it.

Max continued North on I55 to Springfield, IL where he turned West to and drove to Hannibal, MO and again turned North and eventually ended up running through the farmland along Highway 2, South of Keosaqua, Iowa.

Turning South on CR W20, Max was now just a few miles from his cousins small farm. He approached as dusk was falling, but didn't turn on his lights and slowed down and eased down the road. As he slowly drove up in front of the house, he didn't like what he could see in the gathering dusk.

The front door was wide open as were the doors on all the out buildings and not a light shown from anywhere.

Max stopped the Suburban in the road and shut it off, putting the keyring in his coat pocket and eased out of the truck with his SP-1 and 4 D-cell flashlight.

He called out Dixie and Shiloh and pointed towards the house and its open front door and said quietly, "Check it out."

Dixie and Shiloh shot across the small yard and bounded into the house and Max followed slowly and checked each room as the dogs cleared them. They checked the second floor and basement but only found signs of a possible struggle in the living room as there was some blood on the couch and floor and the house had obviously been ransacked of most things readily usable, such as all the foodstuffs and any obvious weapons.

Next Max and the dogs went out to check the outbuildings, and they too had been ransacked and there were no signs of Max daughter or his cousins family.

Shiloh and Dixie had whined several times as they went through various locations of the house and Max could only figure they recognized the scent of his daughter.

Max tried to make sense of the jumble of footprints and vehicle tracks in the yard and on the road, but it was impossible in the dark. He would have to wait until daylight to see what he could make of them.

"God damn it!....Why the fuck didn't I drive all night to get here or leave a day earlier?....Shit" Max muttered angrily to himself as he pulled a Camel out of his battered metal cigarette case and lighted one up as he stared off into the darkness down the road...

Max moved his truck out of the road and into the backyard of his cousins house, being careful to avoid disrupting the track patterns in the driveway as much as possible.

While he had the dogs running out in the field to do their business, he went about closing the house back up. There was still electricity at the moment, but Max turned all the lights off to give the appearance of no one being there.

Finding and lighting a candle in the kitchen after he had pulled the blinds on the windows, Max went out and got some of the meat he had brought from home out of the cooler in the trailer and brought it in to make supper.

After he had eaten a meal consisting of deer steak, he went out and emptied the water from the cooler and topped it off with as much ice as he could get from the houses freezer and then packed in some snow to help keep the meat cold and not spoiling.

Then Max went and sat one the front porch in the dark. He had brought a couple of old throws from the living room and wrapped the little poodles in one and laid another one down for the big dogs to lay on as he sat and quietly smoked, cupping his cigarette in his hand while his rifle lay across his lap.

Max sat in the dark, smoking, watching and listening.....

Max was just getting ready to go inside and call it an early night, when all four of his dogs raised their heads and looked off down the road with there ears pricked and noses twitching as they sniffed the air for a sample of what they had heard.

Max listened intently and thought that maybe he had heard a vehicle, but wasn't for sure.

"We'll just sit here awhile longer", he told the dogs as he checked the action on his SP-1 and unsnapped the flap of his .45 holster. He checked and made sure he had another magazine for his rifle in his coat pocket and he settled back into the chair which was hidden in the deep shadow of the porch.

He sat back and waited as he looked out over the snowy landscape, the stock of his rifle resting in the pocket of his left shoulder.....waiting...watching...listening....

Chump had had enough of being stuck in a vehicle, and besides, the girl was not really his master, and didn't have the same force that the man had had.

Once he caught wind of other dogs, he zoned in on that and headed that way, ignoring Skye's calls.

Shiloh and Dixie stood up and looked intently into the darkness with their ears up, now obviously picking up sounds with their ears that Max couldn't yet hear.

"Easy now, stay put." Max whispered at them as he eased up from the chair and squatted down behind the 3 1/2 foot tall brick and concrete pillar that was the base for the square, wooden column at the center of the porch. Max had chosen one of the center columns of the four columns to crouch behind as it gave him easy access to the stepsd to move swiftly down from the porch in the offense or to move back through the door of the house in the defense.

He rested the vertical foregrip of his SP-1 on the corner of the lower column, and keeping the stock in his left shoulder, he peered with his one eye around the side of the column, quietly cursing to himself the loss of his right eye as he reached up and adjusted the eye patch with his right hand.

Nikita his little female poodle growled quietly and Max knew from its tone, that it was to be shortly followed by her shrill high putched barking if left unchecked...."Ssshhhh girl." Max said quietly without looking back at her and Jake who were still wrapped in the blanket.

Max peered out over the sights of his rifle, waiting for some sign of what had his dogs excited....

Wagging his tail frantically, Chump followed his nose at a brisk trot, focused on finding the other dogs. As he got closer, he could hear them now, and the Human as well, and as he approached the house, he let out a friendly yap in greeting.

(I started a thread for us all...)

(I started a thread for us all...)

Cool!


Continued in the topic titled "Fellow Travelers (Max, Jack, Skye and the dogs!)