Fuel (Best Laid Plans Book 1) (3 page)

“Dude, are you kidding me?” one of the customers behind him demanded.

Trev turned and gave the man a level look, then turned back and noticed the cashier hadn't started again. “Look, sorry for the hassle but it's the only way I can do this.”

“Maybe you should've thought of that before you decided to singlehandedly host Cinco de Mayo,” the same customer back in the line said snidely, glaring at the bags of rice and beans overflowing on the belt.

Trev ignored him, also weathering the cachier's glare as he waited for the older woman to start ringing him up again. “I knew I should've called in sick this morning,” she finally muttered as she got going again. Thankfully she did as he'd asked and tallied up three separate bills for his different payment methods.

Which took even longer than he'd been afraid of, to the point that he was worried a riot would start in the line before she was done. By the time he swiped his credit card and waited for it to authenticate for the final purchase people back there were openly swearing at him, using some pretty foul language too. The girl directly behind him had even intentionally rammed her cart into his back twice. He was glad his card didn't reject the large purchase or someone might have shanked him with a carrot.

The three totals added up to just over a thousand dollars, which put him firmly into debt. At this point he hoped he was right and the economy actually collapsed, or he was going to have to do another summer's work installing security systems just to pay off his credit card debt. Then he felt bad for hoping for a disaster even if it was almost certainly going to happen.

He thought he might still have a bit more money on his card before hitting the limit, but as he helped the bagger finish loading up his cart and started out of the store he decided he'd pushed his luck far enough and it was time to pack up his goods and head down to Aspen Hill.

It felt good to load everything into his car and see how much space it took up. That was a lot of meals he'd be taking down to the shelter with him, which made him feel better about the fact that his own food supply there wasn't nearly as large as his cousin's. Considering what he'd seen of Lewis's preparations last time he'd been down there even this wouldn't come close to evening things up, but he'd be better off than he otherwise would've been.

All in all he felt pretty good about the morning's efforts, even if he hadn't been able to buy any gas. The only thing left to do in the city was drive back to his dorm and load up all his possessions.

* * * * *

Trev had intentionally saved his room for last because some of his most valuable stuff was in there. He hadn't wanted it sitting in his car while he was away doing something else because losing some of those items would be really painful in a survival situation.

Which he was continuously reminded of as he pulled everything from his closet, where he'd meticulously packed it into every spare inch of space, and piled it all on his bed.

He had his backpack, expensive even though it was military surplus, which he'd carefully loaded with gear and supplies for an extended hike. Among other things was a self-inflating sleeping pad, a compact lightweight sleeping bag rated for 30 below zero, a one man tent, a quality hatchet, 2 pairs of merino wool long underwear, a change of clothes he'd picked out to be durable and warm, the best pair of hiking boots his cousin could find in his research that Trev had already spent some time breaking in, 5 pairs of merino wool socks, a top rated camping water purifier and extra replacement filters, a merino wool balaclava, and a quality pair of ski goggles for intensely cold weather.

He also had enough food for two weeks in there, food that was designed to be convenient to eat while traveling that also gave good energy like jerky, vacuum sealed dinners, a trail mix of dried fruit and nuts, energy bars, and peanut butter. The last major item of consideration was a reasonable amount of ammo for his two firearms, where weight was a concern on a long trip. The rest of the pack was filled in around the bigger stuff with toiletry items, a large variety of firestarters, a sturdy folding knife for chores around camp and a heavier skinning knife, flashlights and candles and an electric lantern, and fifty feet of thin nylon rope with carabiners he could clip to his belt.

Trev hadn't researched or shopped for most of the stuff, since Lewis had been preparing his own pack and Trev had just convinced him to send along all his recommendations so he could get the same things. To his chagrin he hadn't even used any of it enough to really familiarize himself with how it worked. For the more complicated stuff like the tent and the water filter he'd left the instructions in so he'd at least be able to figure them out if necessary, but learning to use everything had always been one of those things he'd intended to do but hadn't found time for.

One of his regrets, especially now, was that he'd never even had a chance to go out on an extended camping trip with the pack and really test himself and his preparations and, if need be, weed out the stuff he didn't need. Lewis had gone on a few trips like that and had invited him to come along, but Trev had always been busy with school or other stuff and couldn't spare a week or even a few days.

He supposed his opportunity to make up for that oversight had arrived now that he was in a real disaster situation. Assuming he didn't end up regretting his lack of familiarity with stuff he really needed.

But that was just his pack. In his closet he also had a complete set of serious winter gear, the kind you could practically live in outside in the heart of winter if need be, enough buckets of wheat, beans, and honey to last him six months, with the other year and a half's worth of food storage already down at the shelter with Lewis, bottles of olive oil to go along with it, a 50lb box each of peanuts, cashews, walnuts, and pecans, the remainder of his thousand rounds and half a dozen magazines for each of his firearms, gear to properly carry, store, clean, and maintain his firearms, along with extras of the parts that wore down quickest, a good pair of binoculars, several unopened tarps and four thick wool blankets, a propane stove, a propane lamp, several extra propane tanks, a floodlight, and half a dozen road flares. He also had a few boxes of MREs he'd gotten cheap.

Between the MREs, the nuts, the olive oil and the buckets he figured he had nearly a year's worth of food, plus however many months extra he could stretch out the stuff he'd gotten at the store. Most of it he'd gotten fairly inexpensively, and now that he looked at it and thought of the tough times ahead he was intensely grateful for his forethought. Everything else seemed less daunting, knowing he had enough food for difficult times.

Most of the other stuff in the closet was, like with his pack, things Lewis had recommended or had been buying and had offered to let Trev go in with him on. Trev had joked several times that even though he paid for his own stuff he still felt like he was taking advantage of all his cousin's hard work, to which Lewis had always replied that knowledge was free and it was more than worth it to have him prepared too.

The final thing he pulled from his closet, resting it carefully atop the buckets beside the bed, was the locked hard case containing his .223 Mini-14 tactical rifle. He and Lewis had purchased their 1911s together a few years ago, and since then his cousin had purchased several other useful and very valuable guns and several thousand rounds of ammunition for each along with a dozen spare magazines where applicable. But unlike his cousin, once he'd got his Mini-14 Trev considered himself to be set for personal defense.

Aside from personal items like clothes, electronics, books, and assorted small odds and ends that was everything Trev had in his room. Most of what he'd left down in his and Lewis's shelter in Aspen Hill was more buckets of food and stuff he mainly intended to use while living in the shelter.

Trev inspected everything, judged how many trips it would take to get it all to his car, then shrugged into his pack, snapped closed the waist belt, and picked up his rifle case and a few bags full of boxes of ammunition to take out first. He wanted to get all the stuff that would draw immediate attention into the trunk of his car and out of sight before he really began moving things, since those were his most valuable possessions and some people would make a big deal out of a gun, even one being responsibly stored and handled.

Before moving in he'd asked ahead with dorm management about storing firearms in his room and had been assured that it would be okay as long as they were unloaded, stayed in locked cases, and he never brought them onto campus for any reason or took them out of their cases on the dorm premises. When he showed them his concealed carry permit they said it would be okay to carry concealed to and from his car if he was going somewhere else, but that was as much as he could expect so close to a university campus.

With thoughts of avoiding potential trouble about his firearms in mind he nodded to his roommates Jim and Connor in the living room but didn't stop to chat, hurrying out into the hallway and making for the nearest exit to the parking lot.

His presence didn't go unnoticed, although fortunately nobody freaked out. But as he left the building and walked down the sidewalk towards his car he heard a few catcalls from windows and from guys playing frisbee or kicking back on lawn chairs. A couple did their impressions of survivalist nutjobs, talking in old coot voices about how the world was ending, the woooorld was endiiiiiiiing. A few even started singing famous songs about the end of the world.

Trev ignored them all. If they weren't smart enough to get out within the next few weeks, or at least take steps to ensure their survival, they wouldn't be laughing for long.

He quickly reached his car and opened the trunk, shoving his gun case inside and then shrugging out of his pack. He'd tossed it inside and was pushing it to the back when he saw someone he recognized walking across the lot towards the dorm from the direction of campus. He recognized the sandy-haired man and paused to wave. T
o his surprise Nelson waved back, and then even though the two hadn't spoken for over half a year turned and made a beeline for him.

Nelson DeWitt had been one of Trev's classmates in Statistics during the Middle East Crisis. The two had shared a study group and he'd talked to the guy a bit, and after the bombs fell the group had spent long hours discussing world events and Trev had even talked with them a little about preparing for a disaster closer to home. He wasn't exactly friends with the man, but not just acquaintances either. What immediately popped into Trev's head when he saw the guy, though, was one of the more memorable conversations they'd had near the end of the semester, and one that was hard to not think of under the circumstances.

They'd just finished their study session and Nelson and some of the others were heading out for pizza. It was pretty common, and they'd actually had enough of their sessions at the restaurant to pretty much be regulars. They even had a game of seeing who could drink the most glasses of free refilled root beer while they were there. The record was sixteen, and Trev had stopped trying to win when he'd had eleven in one sitting and spent the rest of the evening feeling like he was going to explode.

This time, though, he'd refused the offer to join them. When pressed a little he'd explained he wanted to get to a sporting goods store before it closed since it was the last day they were having their sale on several quality camping items he had his eye on.

This had led one of the girls, a cute brunette named Ellen, to ask if he was into backpacking, sounding excited that they had that in common. Trev usually didn't broadcast just how serious he was in his preparedness efforts, but he liked the group and more importantly had been trying to work up the nerve to have a real conversation with Ellen for the last few weeks. So he'd answered “Yeah, that too.”

Pretty vague, but Nelson knew him well enough. “Oh, getting your Bug Out Bag, eh?”

Trev had admitted that was a priority, and endured the ribbing that followed. One of the guys even started humming the theme to a zombie TV show that was big at the moment. The conversation had eventually gotten around to food storage, before people started getting impatient about getting some actual food rather than talking about it.

What stuck in Trev's mind, though, was that just before the others left Nelson lagged behind a second and apologized for tossing him into the spotlight like that. Trev had asked his study mate if he wanted to come along and get his own camping supplies and Nelson had just laughed.

“Nah, man. You know if things go to pot everyone's going to be dropping like flies, and everyone who does live will probably wish they hadn't. I figure I'd rather be one of the former.”

That had genuinely shocked Trev, especially after the recent nuclear war in the Middle East had cemented in his mind just how much he wanted to survive. He'd been tempted to argue that starving to death was a horrible way to die, not to mention that most religions frowned on suicide and what Nelson proposed was toeing the line, but he really didn't know the guy well enough to press the issue. So he'd just said his goodbyes and headed out.

Now, with his row of gas cans in the back of the trunk, his gun case still in sight, and his backpack sticking out conspicuously, Trev couldn't help but notice the way Nelson was looking at his possessions, seeing the fruits of his efforts to be prepared. His former study mate was probably thinking of that conversation, too, because he looked a bit embarrassed as he came up to Trev and gave the trunk a curious once-over.