A JAG-Sims3 Story
Author: Haruo Chikamori
Rating: M
Classification: Angst, Romance.
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: Continuity of Government (COG) – a stark term for starting over after a holocaust the likes of which is hoped will never ever happen. This is a what-could-happen if the button was ever pressed.
DISCLAIMER: The characters Harm Rabb, Jr., Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie, Meg Austin, AJ Chegwidden, et al. belong (in concept if not name) to CBS/Bellisarius. Animal and all OC characters are the property of Heather and Hugo Chikamori. No profit is being made from this story, nor is any infringement intended.
------------------------------------------------Chapter Four - The Gritty Task of Survival
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The sun rose on yet another day...after a sleepless, restless night. We heard a lot of dogs howling in the distance; I'm sure a lot of them were strays left by owners that didn't care about them or whether they survived or not. But we can't take in every stray that we see whether or not I want to, because we need a specific type of dog to guard our place if it comes to whether or not we can find one. Mornings were always cold with a bit of moist air greeting us when we stepped out into the yard. And stepping out was always a nervous affair since we didn't know what would greet us when we opened the door. Matt was always rifle at the ready, muzzle aimed towards the door as I opened the door and stepped back, always keeping the door between me and the outside world while I got my own M4 at the ready to back him up. How we could live like this for the unforseen future, it was hard to figure out, but we knew that we had to for the time being.
It just so happened that an old red mutt came along wanting food looking up at me with a woebegone expression. Unfortunately we had no food for it and it shook its head and loped off.
I'm an animal lover but unfortunately when it comes to my survival, Darwinian psychology kicks in. I'm sorry, but if it's the dog's life or mine...well...I'm going to be the one walking out of there. That's the way the mind thinks in a survival situation. Everything wild; deer, horses, squirrels, rabbits; etc. becomes a potential food source or domesticated animals that can't carry their weight in a survival situation get left to survive on their own. Either they survive or they don't. That's the harsh picture. You can't give away your rations.
Matt and I fished for the rest of the day trying to make sure that we could gather enough supplies...and this was going to be along drawn out process. I was hoping that the visitors to the town weren't hostiles scouting out an abandoned town to set up operations from. If that was the case, we would have to fight wasting valuable ammo and resources that we couldn't afford to lose.
The sunset was pretty...through the smoke and fog. The town had fog that never seemed to go away; it billowed around in spooky counterpoint to an ever-present waking nightmare. It haunted our dreams as well as if to cackle malevolently "You'll never get out..." But we trusted that we would.
We used the cover of the early evening darkness to scavenge next door; firearms always at the ready. And it seemed that Matt was in luck. While I fished some more, he managed to find fencing wire and posts; that we managed to drag back to our home and we were able to set up a fence in order to be able to keep out predators; both sim and animals. At least this way we were going to be able to take care of our trees and keep the pond in our backyard to ourselves.
And so the next few days went...harvesting the trees, fishing, scavenging.
There was always a part of us that watched the skies too. As far as we were concerned everyone was hostile other than the two of us. And we watched worriedly to see if there were enemy paratroopers who were going to jump into town and overwhelm us completely. If that happened we were goners for sure. There was no way that we would be able to completely fight off a brigade of trained enemy soldiers.
Life was as per usual...the rosy skies in the east signified the rising of the sun...and that meant wake-up call. I've been a Navy brat for so darned long it seems more normal to use milspeak than normal civilian speak. We don't have militaries now; everything is militias (the type that used to be frowned upon while civilizations still existed) and since we consider everyone, other than Matt or myself, a hostile; it behooves us to maintain strict discipline and what better way than what our parents taught us? Of course there is safety in numbers but the more numbers you have; the more likely it is that you will disagree and that causes dissent and dissent breeds rebellion. At least Matt and I think alike and our goals are one and the same: get out of here and to a place where we can live without looking over our shoulder wondering if there's someone about to take everything we have as well as our lives.
Of course the first thing that has to happen when we used the sink was that the sink busted. It was a great way for Matt to upgrade his Mr. Fixit skills. Well, we'll see how long he takes with that. My dad for all his prowess as a famous fighter pilot; oh excuse me, NAVAL AVIATOR...he stressed that since Navy had the better pilots they were always referred to as Naval Aviators. The Air Force never had to recover aboard a postage stamp in the middle of the Persian Gulf, so he said. Ah, the joys of interservice rivalries. *sniff* I miss him so much. As I was saying even though my dad was a well-renowned naval aviator who had shot down four enemy fighters (one short of an ace), he couldn't find his way around a pipe wrench at all. If there were any household problems, he either called Uncle Harm or Mom; Mom, being a Texas gal, pretty much knew everything there was to home repair. Hopefully Uncle Harm taught his kid everything he knew. I miss Uncle Harm and Auntie Mac too.
We also managed that day to corral up some stray cows and chickens and brought them "inside the wire". Now we had eggs and milk...this was a good sign of things to come.
...and the rest of the day was dedicated to fishing. Still have to get those five hundred trout before we can go anywhere.
Since there were no stores or anyplace that we could conceivably stock up on supplies, we were lucky to find those cows and chickens. And scrap wood and posts built the chicken coop and barn for the cows. At least we definitely wouldn't go hungry this time around.
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