THE HIDDEN SURVIVOR: an EMP survival story by Connor Mccoy

Author:Connor Mccoy [Mccoy, Connor]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2018-05-24T04:00:00+00:00

Sally and Mia were waiting for him at the head of the game trail and they hiked back up to the ridge together. The women were quiet and Glen thought they looked exhausted. The whole group had to try getting better sleep. But not tonight, tonight was for burgling.

They stopped at the bivy to check in on Christian, who seemed feverish and restless. Glen told him to sleep a while longer and then led Sally and Mia away toward the top of the ridge again.

“Listen,” he said. “There is a stream maybe a mile away. I’m going to see if I can collect some freshwater mussels. We all need some protein, and while you can live off travel bread for a really long time, it’s best to have a little variety. You stay here and watch the town.”

“What are we watching for?” Sally asked. She had circles under her eyes and she looked confused.

“Anything that might give us an advantage,” he said. “The more information the better.”

Glen looked back before they were out of view to see the girls hunkered down, heads close together as they kept watch on the town. He was relieved. That would keep them busy and, hopefully, they wouldn’t start worrying about Christian. Glen was worried about Christian, and that was enough.

He quickly moved through a meadow of tall grass and then ducked back into the undergrowth. He was direction finding by memory, and listening hard for sounds of water. It took him thirty minutes, but he did find the creek where he remembered it. It was moving slow and easy, so it was no wonder he hadn’t heard the water.

He took off his boots, stuffed his socks into them and then tied his laces together so he could hang them around his neck. He walked into the water, which reached mid-calf. He was being careful not to stir up the sand and silt he walked slowly along, scanning the bottom of the stream. It took a while, maybe ten minutes or so, for him to find the first mussel. He plucked it up, rinsed it in the slow moving water at the surface and dropped it in one of his boots.

He walked upstream for about twenty minutes, picking up mussels as he found them, then turned and made his way downstream, doing the same. On the way back up to the spot where he had entered the water he found another couple mussels he’d missed on the way down. So, when he climbed from the stream he had about forty mussels. Ten apiece. Not a feast, but with the travel bread enough to fill them up.

He dumped out his boots, dried his feet with his socks and put the socks and the boots back on. He had damp socks, but all in all it wasn’t so bad. He took off his long-sleeved shirt, tied the mussels up in it and headed back to the others.

Thirty minutes later he was back at the ridge and emptying his shirt onto the grass.

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