The Longest Walk by Ron Foster

Author:Ron Foster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: survivalist, apocalypse fiction, survival stories, prepper fiction, survivalist adventure, post apocalyptic survival, carrington event, emp fiction, apocalyptic survival fiction
Publisher: Ron Foster

28

Honeybees

“Jack, wake up, smells like chow.” I said poking the grumpy old bear next to me.

“Huh? What? Food! I am awake.” Jack said doing a Houdini flourish with his sheet.

“Smells like bacon? Is it bacon flavored Spam?” the old bald grizzly said flexing his nose.

“We got canned bacon, but I doubt Sherry is wasting it yet.” rubbing the grit from driving the tractor out of my eyes.

“Hey, get back here!” I said to my food exuberant minion.

“You are tactical now, never leave your weapon.” I said motioning towards the HiPoint carbine and trying to make sense out of a day I was not ready for yet.

“Got ya, sorry.” he said grabbing it and still hurrying twice as fast towards the backyard’s enticing smells, almost running over Sherry in the process.

“Hey, sweetie.” Sherry said, while dodging the lumbering chow hound headed out to investigate the aroma’s origins.

“Made you a lumberjack breakfast; you got work to do today.” she beamed at me, knowing breakfast was the one meal that took me a lot of consideration after an all-nighter.

“That’s nice, thanks.” not really meaning it and smiling, as I heard Jack being told to get away from the cook fire by Betsy.

“I am up, what time is it?” I asked and grabbing the Henry survival rifle and leaning it in the corner.

“7:30. I knew you wanted up early.” Sherry chirped, while I mentally cussed whoever distilled what I drank last night, and took umbrage at her being so chirpily happy this early in the morning and hoping against hope she would cease her non stop banter.

“We do still have coffee, right?” thinking I would have the royal ass if the preps we’d bought got used up and not replaced over time.

“Of course.” Sherry replied, looking quite put out I had not received her warm morning greeting with more pleasantries.

“It’s outside on the stove.” whereupon Sherry turned to see what the others were up to outside.

Damn, David, you are getting old. I thought, as I stretched to get rid of the kinks of a hard floor and manhandling shit around from yesterday.

I grabbed the little rifle and went bleary eyed outside and saw Jack had already finished a half of a plate.

“Morning.” I managed to cough out and avoiding watching Jack grazing on his pancakes dripping with what I assumed was Ghee (Clarified Butter).

“Wake up and piss, the worlds on fire, you old heathen.” Jack said nudging me in my hangover state.

“You’re the one that taught me my bad drinking habits before you quit, you old Rummy.” I managed to snarl out dolefully.

“Yes, but no more.” the walking garbage disposal chided me and grinned at my discomfort.

I couldn’t think of anything particularly nasty to assign him to, so I just ignored him for a bit.

Sherry tried to interest me in a plate of decent food, but unpalatable for the moment.

“Where’s my framing hammer, Darlin?” I wondered, while trying to choke down a piece of the breakfast and looking towards Sherry.

“Damn, I cannot figure out how you survive!” Sherry said and went to get it, while mad about me not eating much.

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