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“I can see that in your eyes.”

Chapter 5
(Day 2)
Three Seconds
     
     
    After the light storm and stimulating conversation, the rest
of the evening passed without incident. Everything I expected to happen didn’t.
I spent the rest of the night on my balcony watching the city burn like most
people watch a campfire. The silent night was occasionally disrupted when a
building downtown collapsed or something exploded. With smoke to the horizon,
the sunrise painted the morning sky bloody. Red sky at night, sailor’s
delight. Red sky at morning, sailor’s warning.
    It was time to go.
    I had a plan; I had a place. It was a place the roaming
gangs of looters and opportunists in populated areas would be hard pressed to
select as a target. The distance was great, the terrain was rugged, and there
was only one access road which I could conceal from strangers. Every scenario I
prepared since the first blackout had one common link: get as far away from
people as possible.
    Ever since I was thirteen, I had run wild on Bootleg
Mountain. It was where my parents built their last home in Northwest Georgia.
They died years ago, leaving me the property. I knew every inch of it like the
back of my hand. Carter Creek was full of fish, the woods were full of game,
and the house sat alone on thirty acres. It was the safe haven most in the city
would soon be dying to find.
    As I laced up my boots, I thought about the long walk.
Bootleg Mountain was a hundred and twenty miles away. I figured it would take
me a week to get there moving at a brisk pace. I was in good shape and looking
forward to putting some distance between me and the trouble that was coming.
    Being a short twenty-four hours into the event, I wasn’t
worried about finding food and water along the road north. I kept my backpack
light at forty pounds of gear so I could cover more distance with less effort.
Most of that weight was ammunition.
    After the ice storm, I made modifications to my backpack so
I could conceal my weapons but still get to them in a hurry. I cut the shoulder
straps and then reconnected them with quick-release buckles. I then connected
both buckles to a ripcord-type lanyard. One tug on the cord dangling on my
chest and the backpack would fall away. Walking around town with a shotgun
slung over my shoulder and two pistols in a gun belt would attract immediate
attention. And attracting attention was what I didn’t want to do.
    My shotgun was concealed inside a bedroll attached to the
bottom of my pack. Two holsters in the small of my back would be covered by the
roll as well. If things went bad, I could yank the shotgun and drop the pack,
giving me easy access to the Glocks. The side pockets of my cargo pants were
stuffed with shells and bullets. Everything I needed in a fight was attached to
my clothing. I wasn’t looking for one, but I knew they would be.
    Leaving everything behind wasn’t a problem. I never
developed much of a connection with inanimate objects. All the things I
treasured were dead. I didn’t want that to be the case for the rest of my life,
but it would be until this mess was sorted out. Thinking about a future with
someone was the furthest thing from my mind. Surviving to have a future seemed
a better idea.
    As I strapped on my backpack, I thought about the people
sitting in Frank’s apartment the night before. I knew none of them had a plan.
I knew they’d stay behind surrounded by the things they couldn’t leave. They
would stay behind, believing that the safest place on the planet was inside
their homes in the city. Maybe I should’ve told them to come with me to a place
where they truly would be safe, a place where they’d at least have a chance.
    Adjusting my gear, I shook off the thought. Trying to take
care of other people who weren’t prepared would be a bad idea. I justified my
decision by thinking the power would probably be back in a few days anyway. I
imagined all of them sitting in their well-lit, air conditioned