Post by Floyd Looney on Jul 13, 2011 21:03:21 GMT -5
AFTER
The old vehicle was barely kept running even while most of the body panels had worn out. This included missing all four fenders where tires larger and balder than recommended by the manufacturer went unprotected.
The driver of the rustbucket got out, he wore a scarf around his face to keep the sand out of his lungs. He wore goggles to protect his eyes. He walked toward me and reached out a hand for a handshake, this also showed he was not holding a weapon.
"Do you have it?" he asked. He meant the canned food. I pointed to my horse-drawn wagon. A case of canned vienna weiners was the prize. Twenty four cans, 7 small weiners to a can. 4 ounces of actual meat byproducts in each, 260 calories drained.
It would keep you alive.
"It's here. You know what the price is going to be" I told him. We had negotiated this kind of trade before.
"Of course" he said walking to the back of his vehicle and unstrapping a partly red and partly rusted barrel. I helped move the barrel, it was very heavy. He opened the small hole in the top and dipped in a wooden ruler and showed me the color it changed to.
"It's good quality gasoline" he said "42 whole gallons"
I knew that he had an oil well on his property and had somehow built his own small refinery. It was like a moonshine still that produced several gallons each day. Meanwhile I was making do trading the products from my secret underground freehold. Mine would run out eventually, hopefully by then I would be set.
Gasoline was one of the more tradeable commodities. You could even call it the currency of trade after the Great Fall.
The man was strong for his size and helped me strap the barrel down in my wagon. We bid our farewells and understood that we trusted each other as business partners. There were a lot of cheats and thieves out there but after dealing with someone for a while you got a feel.
The bumpy road didn't upset the barrel, thankfully. I was able to concentrate on the task at hand, trying to ignore the remains of the former town around me as I drove through it. Nobody lived here now, there were few people around as it was.
Immediately after the Great Fall led to riots and anarchy hoardes and mobs of city-dwellers had hit the countryside. The looters attacked the producers in an all-out war for survival. I mostly hid in my bunker with the family, I was forced to fight a few times to protect what was mine.
At first the small town had held out and formed their own militia for "mutual protection". Hoardes invaded and while they managed to lay waste to the mob there were just too many of them and there were waves and waves of looters.
Later the local residents began to turn on each other. The trailer park residents no longer had a Wal-Mart and no longer had access to any cheap source of food. They became the next horde and they brought their kids with them as they began attacking local farms.
The cycle continued until the only ones left were self-sustaining farms. Many of them had to scramble to keep their wells pumping, many of those had relied on electricity from the grid. Some managed to find and secure solar panels and wind generators from abandoned homes and buildings.
How long would those last?
My well was pumped with wind power. The tank was large enough where it would not be an issue unless there were prolonged periods of no wind.
I was one of those who saw it coming and prepared. I had even put away educational materials for the kids for years in advance.
After the violence died down, mostly because the "zombies" were all dead, we put up the pre-stored greenhouses. The large underground chambers even included a few chickens and other animals we would need. These had larger ventilation holes in the ceiling than the chambers we used for ourselves.
The gasoline I traded things for was needed for emergency generators and farm vehicles/tractors. This included the motorcycles and 4 wheelers I had stored in advance. Those were used to patrol the fenceline of our 1,200 acre property.
....
The old vehicle was barely kept running even while most of the body panels had worn out. This included missing all four fenders where tires larger and balder than recommended by the manufacturer went unprotected.
The driver of the rustbucket got out, he wore a scarf around his face to keep the sand out of his lungs. He wore goggles to protect his eyes. He walked toward me and reached out a hand for a handshake, this also showed he was not holding a weapon.
"Do you have it?" he asked. He meant the canned food. I pointed to my horse-drawn wagon. A case of canned vienna weiners was the prize. Twenty four cans, 7 small weiners to a can. 4 ounces of actual meat byproducts in each, 260 calories drained.
It would keep you alive.
"It's here. You know what the price is going to be" I told him. We had negotiated this kind of trade before.
"Of course" he said walking to the back of his vehicle and unstrapping a partly red and partly rusted barrel. I helped move the barrel, it was very heavy. He opened the small hole in the top and dipped in a wooden ruler and showed me the color it changed to.
"It's good quality gasoline" he said "42 whole gallons"
I knew that he had an oil well on his property and had somehow built his own small refinery. It was like a moonshine still that produced several gallons each day. Meanwhile I was making do trading the products from my secret underground freehold. Mine would run out eventually, hopefully by then I would be set.
Gasoline was one of the more tradeable commodities. You could even call it the currency of trade after the Great Fall.
The man was strong for his size and helped me strap the barrel down in my wagon. We bid our farewells and understood that we trusted each other as business partners. There were a lot of cheats and thieves out there but after dealing with someone for a while you got a feel.
The bumpy road didn't upset the barrel, thankfully. I was able to concentrate on the task at hand, trying to ignore the remains of the former town around me as I drove through it. Nobody lived here now, there were few people around as it was.
Immediately after the Great Fall led to riots and anarchy hoardes and mobs of city-dwellers had hit the countryside. The looters attacked the producers in an all-out war for survival. I mostly hid in my bunker with the family, I was forced to fight a few times to protect what was mine.
At first the small town had held out and formed their own militia for "mutual protection". Hoardes invaded and while they managed to lay waste to the mob there were just too many of them and there were waves and waves of looters.
Later the local residents began to turn on each other. The trailer park residents no longer had a Wal-Mart and no longer had access to any cheap source of food. They became the next horde and they brought their kids with them as they began attacking local farms.
The cycle continued until the only ones left were self-sustaining farms. Many of them had to scramble to keep their wells pumping, many of those had relied on electricity from the grid. Some managed to find and secure solar panels and wind generators from abandoned homes and buildings.
How long would those last?
My well was pumped with wind power. The tank was large enough where it would not be an issue unless there were prolonged periods of no wind.
I was one of those who saw it coming and prepared. I had even put away educational materials for the kids for years in advance.
After the violence died down, mostly because the "zombies" were all dead, we put up the pre-stored greenhouses. The large underground chambers even included a few chickens and other animals we would need. These had larger ventilation holes in the ceiling than the chambers we used for ourselves.
The gasoline I traded things for was needed for emergency generators and farm vehicles/tractors. This included the motorcycles and 4 wheelers I had stored in advance. Those were used to patrol the fenceline of our 1,200 acre property.
....