Chapter 5

December 5th, 5:00pm, 80 days after the Blackout – Harmony, PA

“It’s your hour on the bike, Clint!” Jonathan called.

“On my way!” he replied, jogging over. “I was doing inventory on canned corn.”

“How are we?” Jonathan asked.

Clint smiled. “We still have a pallet and a half. I think we’ll be okay for a while.”

“Excellent,” he said, adjusting his rifle strap. “It’s my watch. I’ll see you at chow time.”

“Have fun!” Clint said as he sat on the bicycle seat. The rear end of the bike was raised off of the ground, a wooden stand built around it to keep it stationary. On one side of the tire was the bicycle chain, and on the other side was another chain which attached to a drive belt behind the stand. As the bicycle was pedaled, the belt drive charged car batteries which had been daisy chained together. Every able warehouse resident was in charge of pedaling for one hour on the bike every other day to keep the batteries charged. With over two dozen people living in the warehouse, they kept the batteries charged enough to run a few lights or small appliances. They primarily used solar powered and hand-cranked lanterns and flashlights, so the generator was used for power tools or to illuminate the deeper recesses of the warehouse when they needed to find a particular type of food.

Not only did the bicycle generator help with keeping the power on, but it also provided exercise. No one had left the premises since the Blackout, and there wasn’t much activity outside of being on watch. Some brought books, magazines, and games with them, so they at least had some form of entertainment.

They had all worked in the food distribution center before the Blackout. It was located almost an hour north of Pittsburgh and was only close to a few small towns. When the radio broadcasts first started to announce that this was no ordinary blackout, the workers decided to band together to fortify the warehouse. Unlike other city-based warehouses, there were no local gangs to speak of, so there wasn’t much hassle in the transition. Anyone who tried to get in was quickly discouraged from doing so by those on watch. Those who weren’t on guard duty went home, gathered their families as well as any supplies they deemed useful, and headed back to the compound.

Once everyone was inside and accounted for, the gates were securely fastened, and the entire perimeter was barricaded by any cars and trucks in the yard. All vehicles were stripped of useful materials—batteries, supplies in the trunks and cabs, seats and benches—then the supplies were stored in the warehouse. Offices were converted into living quarters using the seats, benches, and blankets while other materials were used to fashion rain barrels for storing water. There was plenty of bottled water inside the building, but there was no sense in wasting that for showers, cleaning, and flushing toilets. Luckily the warehouse was almost fully stocked, so there would be enough food to last them several years if need be.

The radio broadcasts had become increasingly grim over the past few months, and he was thankful he was sheltered from most of it. They occasionally had a few issues; there had been a small rodent infestation once it started cooling down outside, but they seemed to have gotten it under control.

The major issue they faced was protecting their new home from invaders. Several groups tried to come in, threats and violence increasing as outsiders became more desperate. There’d been a group of looters a few months back who had tried to breach the perimeter by opening a section of fence, but the guards spotted them and quickly ran them off before they could cause any damage. They heard on the CB a while back that most of the group had been killed during a scuffle at a nearby trading post. Fortunately, nearly everyone who went home brought at least one firearm and several hundred rounds for each, so they had enough firepower stocked to defend their new home. Their supply wouldn’t last forever, though; if they experienced a significant battle they would be scrambling fast.

Clint’s mind wandered as usual while he pedaled. He wondered how his brothers and parents were; without phones, there was no way of letting them know where he was or that he was okay. His brothers were all older with families of their own, so they were probably fine, but his parents had just left on a cruise to the Caribbean a few days before the Blackout struck; he had no idea if they even made it out of the path of the Superstorm or if their ship was at the bottom of the Atlantic. His worry about them kept him up some nights.

“THERE’S MOVEMENT AT THE PERIMETER!” Clint heard someone shout over his walkie talkie.

He stopped pedaling immediately and bolted to the nearest guard post. He retrieved a shotgun as he peered outside. “How many are we looking at?”

“Five males,” a guard responded. “They’re near the southwest corner, and they have binoculars. I see a few holstered firearms and one rifle.”

Clint hurried to the guard station nearest to where the strangers were. A few people had gathered while others went to the opposite ends to ensure the men’s appearance wasn’t a diversion for a larger group getting ready to ambush.

“Who’s going out there with me?” Jonathan, the head guard, called out. Clint raised his hand as did as a few others. “Stay alert, and make sure your safety’s off. Keep an eye on them and our surroundings. We don’t want ambushed. I’ll do the talking.”

The group cautiously exited the side door, checking in all directions before advancing. “What do you want?” Jonathan asked sternly, his rifle cocked and pointed at them.

One of the men scowled. “Nice place ya got here,” he shouted from the fence. “Say, you got any spare water? We’re mighty parched!”

Clint’s stomach churned and his heart pounded with adrenaline. The man at the gate was only pretending to be friendly; a hint of malice in his voice made him sound intimidating without being outright menacing. His calm, manipulative tone was more dangerous than doling out actual threats, in Clint’s opinion.

“We have nothing extra to give to anyone!” Jonathan yelled back. “You fellas had best be on your way!”

“Oh, I highly doubt you don’t have any extras in that place,” he hissed. “I’d be mighty excited to get a gander at what you have stored up in there.” His hand brushed against the tattered rifle sling. “How’s about you just let us in?”

The guards trained their weapons on the outsiders as soon as his fingers touched the sling. “That isn’t going to happen!” Jonathan shouted. “All of you back the fuck away from our property before me and my buddies here make sure you never go anywhere again!”

The group laughed scornfully. “We’ll go for now,” the leader said. “But there’s a pretty good chance you’ll be seeing us again real soon.” He nodded to his group, and they retreated into the woods.