The New Madrid Run

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Authors: Michael Reisig
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction
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name’s Ra. He won’t hurt you; he’s just big, not mean.”
    The boy nodded solemnly, not convinced, holding his can of peaches with both hands.
    “What’s your name, son?” Travis asked. The child paused for a moment, then his mouth moved, but there was no sound. Obviously struggling with himself, he tried again, still without success. Suddenly his face became a mixture of pain and frustration, and tears ran from the corners of his eyes. Travis realized then that the boy couldn’t speak.
    Angry with himself, and embarrassed for the pain he had just caused the child, he tried to mollify the situation. “Hey, it’s okay. You just hang out, relax and catch up on a few meals. We’ll take it slow and let everybody get to know one another in their own time, all right?” He stood up. “I’m Travis. This is Carlos, and I guess you can call the Japanese guy on deck, Sensei. I’ve got to get back topside and do a little diving, but Carlos, here, will watch out for you. I’ll be back in a little while.”
    As Travis moved up the stairs to the deck, Carlos called after him, “Hey Travees, chu see any Bud-a-wiser down there with da peanut butter?”
    Ten minutes later Travis was back in the water. It was late afternoon, but daylight wasn’t a factor as he had only about half an hour of air left. Even so, the next round of underwater shopping was extremely important. There were a number of things they needed to enhance their chances of survival. Among those items were fishing gear, propane gas and a grill for cooking, foul weather gear, and dozens of other things, not the least of which were weapons.
    Cody’s words of long ago echoed in Travis’ ears: “When the shift comes and the damage is done, there won’t be any law for quite a while in the majority of this country. It’s gonna be every man for himself and I guaran-friggin’-tee you, it’s gonna get sticky. When the people left alive in the cities have eaten everything but the cardboard advertisements in all the grocery stores, there’s gonna be a mass exodus toward the rural areas. Trust me, when they arrive, they’ll kill you for a candy bar if you can’t protect yourself. By the end of the first winter after the shift, better than half of the original survivors will be dead from disease, starvation, exposure to the elements, and exposure to their fellow man. The only way to survive will be to have a place far enough from the cities and difficult enough to get to, that you filter out the majority of the predators. You arm yourself like Patton and treat aggression like Attila the Hun. A few heads on stakes, marking the boundaries of your property, is a relatively effective deterrent to unwanted guests.”
    Travis had to smile when he thought of Cody. What a character. But damned if it didn’t look like he may have been right.
    He glided toward the bottom in the cold water and studied the area for the items they needed. There was no determining departments in the store anymore. Everything was scrambled and strewn everywhere. He’d just have to work fast and cover as much ground as possible. After five minutes of precious time, he had worked his way back to the partially existing wall when he began to recognize sports equipment. Soon he found two good fishing rods and reels, a couple of raincoats, a hunting knife and, under an overturned display rack, packages of hooks, sinkers, and lures. Travis dragged the load back and tied it to the rope, which the sensei promptly pulled up. Then he was off again.
    It appeared that the sporting goods department must have been near the surviving wall, as much of it was piled against that crumbling barricade. He rummaged through the debris, eventually coming to a smashed display case. Remembering that weapons at K-Mart were kept in such cases, he began to dig around and, sure enough, there in the wreckage lay a Smith and Wesson nine-millimeter pistol. Moments later, a few feet away, he found a .38 revolver with a

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