EMP Attack

"Scrambled eggs and bacon" he said nonchalantly. "the bacon's wild hog and it ain't cured as much as I'd like but it ain't bad once you get used to it."

I was too astounded to speak as Bo slipped through the back door with a tray of food in his hand. I could see the smoke rising from his make shift barbecue. He had erected a tin roof over it so he could stay dry and well as keep the weather away from the fire.

***********

We ate in silence and despite the rather strong flavor of the meat Don and I ate it like it was our last meal, which it just may just have been.

We had just finished eating when the dogs began barking furiously outside. Bo seemed to have a sense of what was happening as he grabbed his rifle, which was resting next to the back door, and headed outside. We followed momentarily and Bo was about fifty yards ahead of us heading toward the wire fence on the south side of his property. The dogs were making such a racket that at first I didn't see the man who stood frozen in fear just over this side of the fence. Oddly, the dogs kept a respectable distance from their quarry but when Bo yelled "Patty Go" the Doberman lunged at the man and I saw him fall to the ground with the dog on top of him. That's when I heard screaming, but not from the man on the ground, it was from two people on the other side of the fence. Another man and a woman were screaming words that were indistinguishable from where Don and I had stopped. Bo fired one shot into the air and the dog stepped back a few feet from his victim.

Bo had continued walking toward them the whole time and was still quite a distance away when the man rose to his feet and holding his leg hobbled back to the fence line. He slithered under the fence and the woman dropped to her knees, apparently to tend to his wound.

Another shot rang out and as the frightened intruders looked our way, Bo shouted:

Y'all go on now, hear? Ain't got nothing for ya. If y'all come back I won't be calling the dogs off."

As they stumbled back into the woods I realized that Don had his arm tightly around my shoulder and I was trembling. It was still raining lightly as we went back into the kitchen followed shortly by Bo.

"They probably just wanted something to eat" I said accusingly.

"Yep, you're probably right. So, what should I have done? Taken them in and fed them and then expect them to leave when their bellies were full. Do you think they would have just left with nowhere to go or would those two men have been desperate enough to try to eliminate me, and at the moment, me, means us.

"What about the next bunch that comes a callin? Should I feed them too, maybe offer them a room and just hope they don't slit my throat in the middle of the night. Maybe you'd like to sacrifice your dinner for them?"

At that moment, I realized two things. One, we were going to get fed again and two, he was right. I didn't want to give up my chance for survival and those strangers were a threat to that possible survival.

I realized another thing. I was annoyed at my husbands continued silence. He seemed to be an observer in all that was going on, almost never offering a thought or opinion. Maybe he was waiting to see "how the chips would fall" but it was becoming frustrating. Bo never addressed him directly and it seemed like I was being put in the position as spokesman, and I didn't like it.

Bo was still looking at me waiting for an answer but my mind had been elsewhere as I raised my downcast eyes.

I just shook my head slightly, acknowledging the reality of what he had said.

Finally, my husband spoke up and asked:

"Mister Johnson, we ..."

"Bo! Don call me Bo. It was the first time Bo had addressed him as anything but Donny, a name my husband hated.

Don continued. "OK, Bo, we appreciate your hospitality but it seems that we are just forestalling the inevitable. I'm sure that you can't afford to feed us indefinitely and eventually we will have to go home and await our fates."

"You're right Don, there are no "free meals" but I do have a proposition that may solve both of our problems. Let's go in the living room and see if we can reach an accommodation,"

Once again, Bo had lost his back woods persona and with a serious business like expression he ushered us into the front room. Don and I took a seat on the sofa and our host sat in a leather recliner across from us. He seemed somewhat apprehensive as he obviously was formulating his words.

Finally speaking and looking directly at Don for a change, he began:

"You asked about how long I could afford to feed you. Well, the answer is, barring a natural disaster or an un-natural one, pretty much forever, a natural disaster such as a severe hurricane could severely disrupt, if not destroy, my goal of total independence. An un-natural disaster such as an organized invasion by marauders would be the end. The latter is more likely than the former."

Don interjected, hurriedly:

"We have over five thousand in cash plus gold and diamond jewelry that is worth several thousand more." Don's innuendo was clear, he was offering all of our assets for the possibility of room and board.

Bo's response was sincere and lacked the sarcasm I might have expected, when he replied:

"Don, I don't want your money or your jewels. If you had a million dollars under your mattress I still wouldn't want it. What good would it do? There are no stores, there are no banks. There is no stock market. Money is useless unless you can figure a way to get out of the country alive and even then, the US dollar is probably going to be worth the same as Confederate money, real soon.

The only thing useful out here, or anywhere most likely, is barter. Out here in the sticks we still rely on barter for most of our goods and services. Let me tell you, Lyle Butler down the road raises chickens so he'll give Bobby Thoreau, over on Bender Street a few dozen eggs and a couple of chickens to have him fix some equipment. Aside from his mechanical skills Bobby makes some really fine whiskey and he trades some of his hooch with Floyd Linder for a quarter side of beef."

"I think you get my drift. We help one another out and at the same time keep the governments hands out of our pockets as much as possible.

"So, I won't beat around the bush. You have things I need and want and I have things you need and want. I'm suggesting that we come to mutual agreement so we both get those things.

He paused for effect, allowing his words to sink in, before continuing:

I'm sure you've seen Gail, my lady friend who visits me now and again. She is, was by now, I guess, a trophy wife to a guy twenty years her senior. He went out of town on business a lot and his only requirement was that she be discreet and be there for him when he was home. "Well, hell, he said with a chuckle, you can't be much more discreet than this one-horse town. I met her when I went to Jacksonville a couple of years ago to close on the property adjacent to mine. She worked for the title company and I asked her to lunch, lunch led to dinner and dinner to _ _ well, you get the picture. My point is that it was a mutually beneficial relationship. No strings, no romance, just two people fulfilling a need."

Bo was looking directly at me as he said all this and I was pretty sure where the conversation was leading and was also sure that the color of my cheeks indicated my understanding. Strangely, I was more curious than outraged. I was keenly aware that without Bo's help my husband and I were doomed. However, I was too embarrassed to glance in my husband's direction so I just continued to stare at Bo as he continued:

"I'm fairly self-sufficient here, there's a lake about a half mile back in the state forest that provides water and some fish. I hunt deer and wild hog which keeps me in meat. I raise chickens and goats and as you saw for yourselves I have a substantial vegetable garden. Like I said though, I only have two hands and tending to all this doesn't leave much time to accomplish what I need to do to insure complete independence."

"I purchased a wind powered turbine awhile back but the county wouldn't give me a permit to erect it. Well now there is no county but building it is, at least, a two-man job. I'm able to keep the house bearable with limited use of the generator but my gasoline and propane won't last forever. The barn roof is in poor shape and a decent storm will finish it off, so it has to be re-roofed. Some of the fencing has to be reinforced, especially in areas that make the property more vulnerable to intruders." I need to build a hot house with the lumber and poly propylene that I've stocked. I need to build an irrigation system to water the crops. There are other things on my 'to do list', but you get the gist. So, you see, there are things you both can provide to make this place more of a commune rather than a fortress."

Don finally spoke and asked apprehensively:

"You said: "things we both can provide" but before that you were telling us about your -friends with benefits- relationship with a married woman. I think your beating around the bush here. I don't think I'd be wrong in suspecting that you're looking for more than a housekeeper and a hired hand."

"You're right!" Bo said while looking directly at Don. Understand, these are not just unusual times, these are desperate times. Society and societal norms no longer exist for us and believe me things will get worse before they get better. When I say better, I don't mean that they will return to what was once normal. Those days are gone forever."

I'm sure I could wait for some other desperate couple to wander down the road and I could make them the same offer I am going to make to you and they would have little choice but to accept or perish. Most everything in life is "quid pro quo", I provide eggs to Tom McDonald down the road and he provides me with lemons and oranges from his citrus farm." All commodities are at a premium now, if there available at all.

Looking at me but still addressing Don, he continued:

Put yourself in my position. Think of this as your house Don and that my beautiful wife and I lived next door and we came to you in desperation. Imagine that you took us in, provided for our needs but every night you went to bed alone while my wife and I went to bed to share one another's bodies. How long do you think it would take before your jealousy and primal needs would warp your judgement? How long would it be before you decided that you weren't being fairly compensated for your contribution. Would you eventually try to win her affection and take her from me or in lieu of that just eliminate me from the equation?"

"So you want me to prostitute myself for the chance of survival," I said matter-of-factly.

"No!" Bo said emphatically. You are not a whore and I would never treat you as one. I'm suggesting that for a couple of nights a week you sleep with me in my bed. I will treat you and Don with respect. I will not be competing for your love and other than those scheduled evenings I will not encroach upon your marriage."

Looking back to my husband, he said"

"I will never cuckold you. No smirks, no underhanded comments or innuendos. This arrangement would be one born out of necessity and the goal is our mutual survival. I would never do anything to hurt or demean Keri and although I realize that this proposition may be a 'bitter pill to swallow', at least at first, my expectation is that it will become a normal way of life in the abnormal world we now live in."

I was looking at my husband apprehensively, not knowing what his reaction would be. Don is not a violent man but he is not a wimp and any man can be pushed to violence. However, Don sat there pensively staring at the architect of this unique conjugal design.

I wasn't surprised that my husband didn't physically attack Bo but I think I was disappointed that he didn't, at least, lash out at him verbally. However, instead of rightful indignation he just asked:

"What if Keri and I don't agree to this 'arrangement'?"

Don looked at me questioningly but I removed my hand from his and looked away. I was feeling like a pawn in a chess game, the proverbial sacrificial lamb.

Like I said, you've seen the number of folks walking by. Eventually another suitable couple will come by and jump at a chance to survive but I sincerely hope you will give this the serious consideration it deserves. I like you both and I think, in time, we could be a productive, effective team. But to answer your question Don, if you opt not to accept I will make you the same offer that I would if you did agree but at some later date decided it wasn't working for you. I have a healthy supply of those emergency meal packets that you see advertised on TV. I'll give you each enough for 60 days and what you do after that will not be my concern."

However, let me reemphasize that there is nowhere to go. The cities, up and down the east coast are complete disasters. There is no water, no food, no sewage. People are being murdered and raped by their fellow citizens and very few are being afforded the respect of even a cursory burial. The rat population is out of control and disease is starting to manifest itself even at this early stage. Those strong enough and ruthless enough to have survived thus far are migrating to the suburbs in hopes of salvation. There have been reports of a few scattered attempts to organize small neighborhood militia groups to protect themselves but eventually they will be overrun or just succumb to their own unpreparedness. Everybody in Florida has guns - - - - - - -,well, almost everybody, he said looking at each of us. So, you can imagine the carnage when desperate, untrained people start shooting at one another. It is survival of the fittest and those survivors will eventually be making their way to the rural areas where they assume there will be clean water and game to hunt."

"How do you know all this, I asked suspiciously. We don't have television or radio or even a newspaper. So, what is all this, predictions from some previously written doomsday theorists?"

"Well, actually I wish it were just all theory then maybe we could hold out some hope. If you look on top of my barn you'll notice an antennae for my ham radio. We 'conspiracy theorists', he said sarcastically, set up a network quite a while back. Every day at noon I turn the power back on so I can get on line and get the latest info that's is passed along the network. What I've told you is a synopsis of what I've heard from various ham operators."

Bo seemed to be getting a little frustrated as he resumed speaking:

"Anyhow, I suggest that you stay here for the night and talk it over but I will want your answer in the morning."

He was getting up to leave when we heard the sounds of barking and snarling coming from the north side of the house, the side where our house was located. Bo grabbed his gun and before opening the door quickly peered out of the window. As we stepped outside behind him two men were emerging from our house carrying a couple of our cloth shopping sacks and our last case of bottled water.

Bo yelled for them to stop but as they ran the man who was carrying only one of the sacks turned and continuing to run backwards fired two or three shots from a hand gun in our general direction.

Don pulled me to the ground as the man turned and resumed his flight.

Bo fired a single shot and the man dropped to the ground clutching his leg. His partner dropped his packages and came back to help his friend. Together they half limped and half ran back down the road. I expected Bo to shoot again and kill them both like he did the bikers but he just stood and watched until they were almost out of sight.

At Bo's suggestion, we retrieved our discarded provisions and brought them back to his house. Before dinner that afternoon Don had gone back to our house to take stock of what damage might have been done by the intruders and while he was gone I asked Bo why he had not killed the two men like he had the bikers.

He was cutting up some sort of meat at the kitchen counter and with a brief glance at me, shrugged his shoulder and replied:

"Those other animals were going to rape you, probably torture you and definitely would have killed you both. These guys were acting out of desperation, the shots they fired were out of fear and I wounded the one so that they know better than to come back here. They'll no doubt be others but that's a bridge yet to be crossed."

After a meal mostly eaten in silence, the heat and humidity had become insufferable and our host turned on the generator so that the fans and AC could cool the house down a little. As darkness was beginning to enshroud us he lit a few candles and with the admonition to extinguish them before going to bed he headed to his bedroom which was adjacent to the living room.

The room had been his den but for security reasons he had turned it into a bedroom, not wanting to be upstairs in case of trouble. Both dogs were kept in the house at night. They had quickly adapted to our presence and mostly ignored us.

Don and I sat in silence, both avoiding the elephant in the room that we knew would have to be addressed. Finally, I broke the stalemate and said softly:

"Let's go upstairs where we can talk." Don just nodded and wearily rising snuffed out all but one candle which we used to negotiate our way upstairs. At Bo's insistence, the shades in the bedroom were kept closed at night to prevent light from attracting unwanted attention.

There were three bedrooms and a bath on the top floor with a shaded window at the end of the hall facing the back yard. We took the candle to the bathroom to prepare for bed and the inevitable conversation that would follow. Don sat heavily on the bedroom chair as I perched on the edge of the bed facing him. He gazed at the floor forlornly unable or unwilling to speak. My heart was breaking for him knowing the turmoil that was eating at his soul. However, I knew we were between a rock and a hard place and not discussing it was not an option.

"Honey, I said while reaching across to hold his hand, talk to me please. What are you thinking?'

His expression changed to one of extreme anger as he looked up at me and growled:

"I'm thinking that Bo Johnson is a low life son of a bitch. That's what I'm thinking. I think he's a sneaky liar, pretending to be some stupid hillbilly then shedding his sheep's clothing and making us an unacceptable offer to satisfy his lust. What the fuck kind of marriage are we going to have if you have to sleep with that bastard. What kind of husband allows another man to fuck his wife?"

He pulled his hand gently away and repeated, "what kind of man, Keri, what kind of man?"

"The kind that loves her, I said softly. The kind that knows we have no choice if we want to survive. The kind who knows that she may have to occasionally submit her body to him but will never surrender her heart."

"So when he's pumping his cock into you it will be me you're thinking of", he asked sarcastically.

Damn it Don, that's not fair. Do you think for a moment this is something I want? Do you know how degrading it feels to be treated like a piece of meat or some blow up doll? I can't imagine how you feel but try to think about how I feel. Our safe, comfortable world is gone. We have no idea what tomorrow will bring, or next week or next year for that matter. We don't know how long we have left on this earth but we do what we have to do to survive and pray that in time this nightmare will end."

Without further discussion Don finally got into bed and we eventually made love but I doubt if either of us got much sleep knowing that tomorrow we would have to face a new reality. We tried to cuddle afterwards but it was too hot and I eventually just lay on my back, sweaty and completely naked.