Authors: Ken Gallender
On the way back home, they cleared the road for him again. At least he’d made it clear to a few believers that he meant business.
Dix put all his food as well as the extra rifles, ammo, and magazines into his boat. He used the winch on the four-wheeler to pull it up off the ground from a tree limb. He backed the boat and trailer under the four-wheeler and let the winch unspool until the four wheeler rested in the boat. He took the large dump trailer he used behind the four-wheeler and up ended it into the boat. Its body was heavy plastic so the weight was no problem. He also restocked his bugout location in the woods behind the house. He filled the box with a rifle, ammo, and food. It saved him once; it may very well save him again.
Dix removed all the family photos and hard drives from the computers and put them in a six inch PVC pipe. He dropped in several boxes of baking soda that he had dried in the gas grill. These would absorb any moisture inside the tubes. He sealed them up and buried them under Gretchen Oak.
Dix replaced the Eotech sight on Jake’s rifle with a Trijicon sight from a rifle he confiscated from the raiders. He sighted it in behind his house. This sight did not require batteries. The goats and chickens had disappeared during all the fighting, so the only chore left was to make a large sign and attached it to the wall of the carport. It said, “I will be coming back, if I catch you here, I’ll kill you…………..KEEP OUT OR YOU’LL BE JOINING
ALL THE SKELTONS LYING AROUND HERE.” Dix knew in his heart that the odds of him ever coming home were remote; but, he also knew the idea of having a home to come back to was something he needed.
He took his tools back to the catamaran, installed a gun rack and loaded all the supplies in the catamaran. He filled the water tanks and filled the boat with everything he could stuff in, including his water filters. He launched his fishing boat, pulled the battery out of the Bronco and drained the fuel tank. He used the Bronco battery in the catamaran and cranked it up. He motored over to the launch where he tied the bow line from the fishing boat to the back of the catamaran. The fishing boat had all his fishing gear, crab nets and throw nets.
Other than sunk and derelict vessels, the canal looked as though it did on every fishing trip he had made over the years. He thought of all the times he and Jake had made this run. Profound sorrow almost overwhelmed him. He kept telling himself that now his duty was to save his sister if possible; and if not, to take care of his elderly uncles if he could get to them.
Ben and Frank were all over the boat. They were practically fearless. Dix named them after the two dogs his dad had when he was a boy. They too were Catahoula Cur dogs and started the long tradition of having them in the Jernigan family. He passed a couple of boats with people fishing. They made no hostile moves and neither did he. Maybe there were some normal people that hadn’t been killed. He wondered if they had been through anything like him. Dix thought, “They must be out of food or they wouldn’t be trying to fish.”
He motored out of the bay and out from under the bridge. It was a little hazy or he would have been able to see the ships at anchor on the horizon. He put up the mast and sail and made his
way out into the open Gulf. Once again he sailed out around the end of Ship Island.
He couldn’t help but wonder it Maggie and Bill would have survived if he had left them in the city. Did he carry them to their deaths? That thought would haunt him to the end of his days. He found himself talking to his wife, Mattie, as if she was with him. He found that if he made conversation with his family members as though they were alive and with him it was somehow more bearable.
A storm was building up from the Southwest. The wind was whipping up the waves so Dix dropped the sails and motored around to the Northeast side of the island. He dropped anchor and added another bow line to the fishing boat and tied it to the back of the catamaran. Other than cold wind and blinding rain the island broke the twenty foot waves. The cabin was warm and dry. He, Ben, and Frank rode it out. Dix and the dogs split a can of soup over a pot of rice he cooked on the stove. Except for Ben pooping in the cabin, the night was uneventful.
The next morning the weather broke and it was warming up. Dix motored back around the island, put the sail back up, and headed south to the mouth of the river. A helicopter slowly flew from the south and passed directly overhead. It made a long slow circle obviously observing Dix and the catamaran. It turned and resumed its flight north. Dix recognized the red flag with yellow stars painted near the tail, it was the flag of Red China. They were wasting no time moving in. Dix was certain their motives were not search and rescue. He continued on, as there was nothing he could do one way or the other. His first job was to try and rescue his sister. He knew that he had been much better prepared than she and her family.
He reached the mouth of the river, where a sandbar had a dozen or so human bodies washed up and bloated on its edge. He kept the motor revved up just high enough to make good headway. Dix had no desire to hit something in the river and disable or sink the catamaran.
As before, there were sunk and semi-submerged barges, boats and tugs. A large sailboat was aground on the west bank. It was riddled with bullets. A nagging feeling kept eating at Dix as he thought about the Chinese helicopter. He eased the catamaran into a side channel created to park barges. The banks were overgrown with willows and were covered in debris. He turned around and shoved the fishing boat behind the catamaran so if he had to make a run, he would be headed in the right direction. In an emergency he would not have time to turn the boats around. He broke out the soup and rice and he and the boys finished it up. He kept them out on the deck so he wouldn’t have dog poop in the cabin again.
Dix dug around in his ammo cans and found what he was looking for. Several years ago he had ended up with ten rounds of 30-06 armor piercing bullets from some horse trading. He replaced ten of the hunting rounds in the bandoleer with the armor piercing rounds. Dix had learned long ago that God had given him a gut feeling. His gut feeling had told him that staying on the Mississippi Gulf Coast would be suicide in the event of a collapse. He didn’t listen then; but, he was listening now.
It was late afternoon so Dix decided to spend the night where he was, somewhat hidden and out of the current. He was sitting on the deck watching the stars and thinking. He thought about breaking out a bottle of bourbon but the last thing he needed was to start drinking. He would be passing past the Port of New Orleans and the city in the morning, he needed to stay sharp.
The feeling was coming back into his wounded leg and although it was almost healed it took episodes of aching. He suspected that a bone had been clipped as what he thought was a fragment worked its way out of the wound the week before. When it wasn’t hurting it was itching; but, at least his toes were no longer numb.
He dozed in the darkness and as usual his dreams were occupied by attempts to save various members of the family. He awoke when he thought his father was calling his name. It was not his father, but Frank with a low growl in his throat. Dix touched him and he quieted; but, Dix could hear what was bothering him. A low rumble from a big diesel engine was coming up the river. A spot light was aimed up the river. Although the pups were still very young, they were very alert, maybe they sensed the stress he felt. They were growing into superb animals and would be an invaluable part of his life or what was left of it. Dix felt like he was on a train out of control and didn’t know when it would be derailed again.
He sat quietly with the Springfield across his lap and watched as the vessel slowly plodded its way up stream. The big light never swung his way so he did nothing. He had no way of knowing what or who was in it. It was only after it passed that he had an idea. He could follow it hidden in the dark and no one would hear him as he motored behind it. He could follow it unnoticed all night and with a little luck maybe even past the city.
Releasing the lines and cranking the engine on the catamaran Dix powered into the wake behind the vessel as it slowly made its way up the river. He hung back a couple of hundred yards just out of the wake of the ship. It was not huge as ships go, but it was typical of ships that operated around the Port of New Orleans. The ship slowed as it approached its docking point. Dix slowly went around it in the dark. Its search light was lighting
the bank and docks and threw just enough reflected light to see the way into the night. It wasn’t until he passed and looked back did he see the helicopters on its deck and the Red Chinese flag on the funnel.
Dix motored on slowly into the night until he was well beyond the city. A bright moon reflected off the water allowing him to see well enough to navigate. The sun was starting to rise when he found a break in the trees indicating the mouth of a bayou in which to take shelter. He turned into the opening and motored up into the bayou until it opened into a lake that at one time was the channel of the river. The Mississippi River has moved and meandered and changed its path countless times over the millennia. This was just one residual vestige of one of the countless meanderings of the old river. In fact locals referred to these lakes as Old River.
Dix turned the catamaran facing out and dropped anchor. There were no camps or human activity on this section so he felt safe for the time being. He fired up the propane stove and boiled a pot of grits. Putting oil in a skillet, Dix fried some Vienna sausages and made some pancakes from biscuit mix. He ate all he could hold and the pups finished what was left. He followed it up with a pot of coffee. It had been weeks since he had allowed himself the luxury of drinking coffee. He had been saving the coffee for trading. He still had the bag of gold and silver that he took from the raiders.
Dix had about 75 gallons of diesel for the catamaran left after topping off the twenty gallon tank; which was way more than enough to make it past Port Gibson, MS, where the Big Black River joined the Mississippi River. If the fishing boat turned out to be too large to navigate the Big Black River, Dix’s back up plan was to travel up the Yazoo River, but the Yazoo would take him to Yazoo City, north of Jackson, MS. This area had a tremendous amount of people on welfare and food stamps. The “Road
Warrior” scenario would have occurred and would probably still be in full swing.
He spent the rest of the day listening to the short wave. From what he could understand, the new world order crowd invited the UN to come in and restore order; but, it seemed that the new world order was dominated by the Red Chinese. They were dividing the country up into two sections divided by the Mississippi River. They were rounding up people and putting them in camps, a lot of the very young and the old were simply being executed. Militia groups were forming up and resisting. Our recently elected Socialist President was appealing for calm as he and his fellow Socialists facilitated the takeover. Dix thought, “First, I have to kill sorry dog Americans, now I’ve got to take on the communists.” He thought about the big Red Chinese ship docked in New Orleans. The last thing they would suspect is a lone wolf punching a hole in the bottom. Dix looked around and thought about what he had on hand that could sink a ship. He had his fishing boat that he could use to travel fast and light. He had rifles and ammo and ten armor piercing bullets. He wondered how many men could be aboard a vessel that size. He guessed a dozen or so could run it, so he quickly figured twenty four men assuming two shifts. He had personally killed that many or more in the last few weeks. If he could disable the engine, and cut the lines it might even run aground and block the river. If it sank cross-ways of the river it would block the river possibly for months. He had a battery powered electric drill with three charged batteries and a five gallon jug of gasoline. He pondered; what if he drilled a hole through the side where he could peep through and see the engine. He could take the 30-06 with the armor piercing bullets and put a few rounds through the engine. Then empty the gasoline through the hole and light it through the hole. It would mean one hell of a fire in the bowels of the ship. That’s what Dix decided to do.
He waited until dark and fired up his fishing boat. He ran it down the river until he was along side of the ship. He sidled up to
the ship and left the engine in gear with the steering wheel turned just enough to keep the boat wanting to push the ship. Once he was satisfied that the boat was somewhat stable he pulled out his drill and drilled a one inch hole through the side of the ship above the rail of his boat. He looked through the hole and saw the huge engine directly across from him. He knew it would be there because he had lined up his boat with the smoke stacks which led down to the engines. He took the can of gasoline and a siphon hose and drained it through the hole. He let the fumes spread for a few minutes, he then took a match, lit it and punched it through the hole. The gas ignited and the flame puffed out of the hole singeing the hair on his fingers and arm. He put the muzzle of the Springfield through the hole and shot into the block of the big engine, firing three shots for good measure. The sound was muffled as the muzzle was inside the vessel. Dix steered around the upriver side and waited until the fire sirens started screaming. He cut the bow line so that the front of the ship slowly started moving away from the dock and out into the river. The rear line now had slack and the ship almost imperceptivity started moving backwards.
Dix replaced the two armor piercing rounds in the Springfield with a full magazine of 150 grain hunting rounds. By this time all hell was breaking loose on the ship. Black smoke was billowing from the hold and the generator quit running, it may have been oxygen starved from the fire. As a result the bilge pumps quit working. He started putting 30-06 rounds into the bridge where he saw people walking around on it. He then refocused his fire into the engine compartments of the helicopters. Jet turbines don’t hold up well to 150 grain pieces of lead cutting though them. The huge vessel had built up momentum and soon the slack in the rear ropes was taken up. It was then that the rear rope had reached its limit and broke with a crack. The big ship was officially a runaway.