I was beginning to feel that this was becoming a military boot camp where I was the master sergeant. What with the dangers of being alone in this spot where animals would begin to multiply and roam at will, with the possibility of running into other humans who might not be as friendly as we, I thought it wise to ask Bruce to teach everyone to use a rifle and hand gun. He was happy to do so and although there were some other things that had to be taken care of first, he was happy to take on this responsibility as well as others. He suggested that we also train in the use of bow and arrow. He felt that all persons in the camp should carry a loaded, holstered handgun with them at all times, with safeties on. I readily agreed, as it had been my thinking from the start anyway. Why we hadn’t thought of it right away escaped us, but the two of us headed into the neighboring town and raided the local police department, picking up some really useful weapons including handguns and uncountable rounds of ammo to add to those weapons that we had taken from Bruce’s basement. It just seemed like the wise thing to do. I had seen too many apocalypse movies to take unnecessary risks. And this was right up Bruce’s alley. I could now imagine some weird-looking, unkempt creep meeting up with one of my girls and having to come to grips with a gun stuck between his ribs. Unfortunately carrying a handgun around continually did not catch on. Even I, more often than not, left my weapon in my room.
Bruce’s training began with safety. He showed everyone how to hold each fire arm, how to turn the safety on and off, how to check to see if it was loaded, how to carry it, how to stand when firing, how to load the magazines, how to take the weapon apart, clean it and put it back together. He was very thorough in his instructions. He didn’t give out any ammunition until he was confident that each of his students could recite from memory his personal safety rules: 1. Always treat the gun as if it’s loaded. 2. Never point it at anyone or anything you don’t intend to shoot, even if you think the gun is empty or the safety is on. 3. Before leaving the camp, load your weapon with the correct ammunition. 4. Keep your fingers away from the trigger unless you are getting ready to shoot. 5. Clearly identify your target. Make sure you know what you are shooting at. 6. Don’t shoot the weapon at water or hard surfaces.
They probably weren’t the official rules, but they were Bruce’s and I had no doubt that he would enforce them diligently, as his father probably had done so with him. Bruce set up targets, close at first. Then gradually, he set them further and further away until the group became reasonably proficient at hitting distant targets. This required the adjustment of the sights, for each person aimed their weapon just a little differently, but Bruce knew how to take care of that technicality, too. We soon learned that handguns didn’t have the long range that most western and police movies would have had us believe. They carried a lot of punch, but with some exceptions, hand guns were for close up protection. Distant targets were the job of a good rifle and a scope.
So much for bullets and gun powder! Teaching people to shoot arrows was an interesting project for us all. These took much longer to get used to. If you have ever visited a sports store or that section of one, you will have noted that many bows had little wheels on them. These are called compound bows. They were created in the second half of the twentieth century and are much more accurate than the recurve or the long bow. Besides their accuracy, there is another advantage to this bow. It’s called the “let off”. With a regular bow, the further you pull back, the more tension the bow creates and it then becomes difficult to hold the bow in this position for any length of time while aiming. Those little wheels, called cams, actually make it easier to hold the bow in tension, for once the cams turn far enough, the force required to hold the bow in position, drops off dramatically, allowing the archer to take aim without tiring his or her arm. Anyway, that's what we used. They were very powerful. Some bows had sights, but consistency was difficult, sight or no sight. Each time the bow was pulled back; either the feather or a part of the hand had to touch our cheek in the exact same place. This gave the bow the consistent force needed for each shot, something akin to the amount of powder used in bullets. Although perhaps more Hollywood than reality, in my mind I could easily see the bow’s value as a weapon of stealth and felt that some time in the future, it may become an important weapon for our protection. Whereas a bullet makes a loud noise that will attract undo attention, and possibly warn your enemy, the arrow is virtually silent and unnoticed until it hits the target and if it hits that target in the precise location, quiet will be preserved. We decided that we would hide these weapons at certain locations around the perimeter of our camp, just in case we had unwanted guests.
With the tension on the bow constant from shot to shot, we then needed to train our attention to getting our targets lined up in the sights. This took more practice. I am not sure whether it was my eyesight, for it did seem to be getting worse the older I got, but I wasn’t very good at hitting the target, a disappointment to me, for from my earliest years, I had wanted to own a bow and become proficient at its use, like the Indians I had seen use them in the movies. Of course, that was just Hollywood, but I was pretty sure most native peoples were good to excellent in its use or else most of them would have starved to death. Fortunately, the others were very good, including Dr. Manning, although I was sure she would never point it at anyone. I decided to stick to the hand gun and rifle.
Getting back to powder in bullets, most people don’t know this, but cartridges don’t have to be completely loaded, but are often partially filled, thus earning the name “half loads” for example, if half the amount of power was used. These bullets do not travel very far and are often used for practice shooting at close range targets. I had some personal experience with this. Many years before, a friend of mine had purchased a 44 magnum hand gun. He bought all the necessary equipment for loading his own cartridges. One afternoon, he invited me to join him well outside of town at a sandy spot where we set up targets and fired at them with a variety of weapons. He had an old LeEnfield from the Second World War that he had fixed up himself and another high power hunting rifle. We exchanged weapons from time to time to compare the feel as they seemed to punch us in the shoulder. I thoroughly enjoyed that afternoon, but was disappointed with the handgun. It was quite powerful and I was sure it would make a messy hole in someone at close range, but as we fired quarter loads to full loads, for my buddy had brought along a variety for trying out, I realized that I would never be happy with that weapon’s performance at a distance for the bullet just seemed to sink with each shot.
With the lessons in the past and daily personal practice a favorite pastime, it dawned on me to make another suggestion to Bruce. I had always held to the theory that there were others, and that some of the others might not be good people. Because of this, I felt that it might be necessary to actually hurt someone, possibly take their life, if that was what was required to protect ourselves. It was a terrible position to hold; especially in view of the fact that there may be so few survivors and that the human race could become extinct. Bruce understood exactly where I was coming from and immediately began to create caches of arms and ammunition in various places inside and outside of the camp. This required extra equipment and such, but that was a minor problem compared to the alternatives. Besides, with all the various police stations, some along the highway and others in town and arms available from local armories, getting equipment was not necessarily a difficult task. It just took time.
Paper targets were eventually replaced with manikins located in various locations around the camp. We had adequate protection around our entrances to keep out most small arms fire. But the worst case scenario was that some of us might be accosted in the camp site itself and fire power would be needed from without. Bruce developed a drill that required the use of the bow, to threaten anyone who might be in the camp. The rule was that if anyone pointed a firearm at any of our people, that that person was a legitimate target, with the proviso that a warning shot would be fired first. If I were present, I would greet the person or persons to see if they were friendly and welcome them to our camp. If they had weapons, they would be suspect, but not necessarily unfriendly, for after all, we might do the same under similar circumstances, but if they raised their guns or rifles, I would attempt to disarm the person verbally, with a warning that their life was in danger. There were to be no heroics. But we were not prepared to sacrifice ourselves for the sake of a threatening stranger. If I were not present, this role would fall to the next in line of command which normally would have been Bruce, but since his skills would be needed elsewhere at the time, would pass to the doctor. Her Hippocratic Oath forbade her from doing any harm, so that fit into the plan quite well. Once the initial steps had been taken, if the intruder refused to disarm or at least point their weapon somewhere else, those with the job of protecting the camp would as I said, fire a warning. Only the future would reveal how well prepared or how successful was our plan.
***
Just east of that escarpment had been a large community with many businesses. It was probably no more than a half hour drive on an average day, and just around the corner. I had no doubt we would find several necessities I had on my personal shopping list, some of which would make living here a good deal more bearable. But, first things first. I wouldn't suffer another back ache. After dark the following evening, we slipped out with the vehicles in search of an establishment that sold bedroom furniture. We were not to be disappointed! One problem presented itself however. Once the group knew what we were going after, everyone wanted a proper bed. A proper bed for everyone could be described thusly. It had to be a queen size. Why, you ask? Both Dr. Manning and I had slept on queen sized beds for years and anything smaller seemed like a single, which was much too small. Besides, we had both tended to toss and turn during the night. Having never slept with the doctor, I accepted her word for her explanation, which made a great deal of sense to me, as I felt exactly the same way. The girls wanted only one bed, because, as they put it, there was no way they were sleeping in a bed by themselves. Bruce? He just wanted what everyone else had. After a brief measurement of the entryways to each cave we realized that remarkably, it seemed like the beds could be squeezed through, so queens it would be. If there was to be any trouble at all, I figured that it would be with the box springs, as they were not flexible like the mattress, but if there was a problem, we could still rely on the rock for a foundation. They could easily support a firm mattress.
We had no problem locating the right sized beds, but getting those beds to their new destination was going to be difficult. Fred’s Sleepware was permanently out of business due to a lack of customers, and more importantly, personnel, so there was no hope of delivery service. The mattresses would not fit inside the vans. They would have to be strapped on the top of each vehicle. I searched for and located the four desired sleep sets and managed to find equipment to take them to a loading dock. Bruce, who had taken a short drive to a nearby hardware store, returned with several yards of rope with which to secure the loads on the roofs of the vans. I was quite concerned about the height of the mattresses. Each bed had two parts, the mattress and the box spring, each about one foot thick. This meant that they would be stacked four high, or four feet on each van, and these beds were heavy. After much finagling, to our great satisfaction, we managed to tie the loads down. We found adequate framing for each bed, and as many night tables as we thought we could carry and shoved these into the back of the vans.
One thing that became obvious as we started on our return trip was that we were unable to accelerate quickly or drive at high speed. Too much acceleration and the van tended to become light in the front. And even with a long gentle pressure on the gas pedal, we were unable to obtain normal highway speeds. As it turned out however, this was probably for the best.
Bruce had taken the lead back to our hideout. All was proceeding as expected, until suddenly, I saw a huge rectangular object flying at my windshield from directly in front of me. I didn’t dare swerve for I figured that my van would roll with all the extra weight on the top. All I could do was stand on the brakes and hope for the best. The object, actually a mattress, bounced off the pavement and flung itself onto my window. Fortunately, I was almost at a crawl by the time it made contact, so there was no damage. It fell back onto the pavement in front of my van. With a few deep breaths, my pounding heart returned to normal.
I opened my door and looked for Bruce. He had come to a stop when he realized that his van was picking up speed and it hadn’t taken him a PhD to know why. All the mattresses and box springs from his vehicle were spread around the highway. If Fred’s Sleepware were still in business, this might have made a great advertisement, for amazingly, the beds were still in good shape albeit scuffed up a little. We restacked and tied the load, and before starting up again, also checked mine, which was as secure as when Bruce, always the Boy Scout, had tied the knots. We couldn’t figure out why only his load had come undone, but we had no further problems with the beds.
Arriving back at the camp, we were greeted excitedly by the waiting group of bed hungry folk who were blissfully unaware that their particular beds had just been strewn all over the freeway. It took a few more such trips to furnish each grotto to everyone’s satisfaction, but in the end, each had its unique touch.
