EMP 1500 MILES FROM HOME Read Free

disappeared when the first EMP exploded to the east.
    There was no panic yet around the orphanage. No one else had any idea of what had happened. They were just waiting around for the electricity and cell phone towers to come back on. I knew, with no electricity to pump wells, water would soon be a major problem here in New Mexico. I had no friends at the orphanage. It was time for me to leave.
     
    Wayne
    I headed north on I-25, walking on the shoulder. The next exit was Lemitar, about five miles from Socorro. I was fairly heavily loaded. In addition to my bulky bedroll and overnight bag, I had three full gallon jugs of water slung on paracord and pieces of seat belt on my back, but the miles passed quickly.
    I passed empty cars about every two to five hundred feet, as well as the occasional 18-wheeler. I saw no one. I assumed the people walked to town the day before.
    I was glad to be on the way home. I was relaxed and thinking about my wife and son. I figured it would take a few days before people got out of hand. I was wrong. I should have been paying more attention.
    "Hey Mister," the voice shouted, "stop right there."
    "Yeah," a second voice said, "let me see what you have." The two men pointed pistols at me.
    If I had a gun and was paying attention, I could have shot both of them, but I didn't have a gun. The guy at the hardware store refused to sell me one since I was from out of state. I should have taken what I needed. Cap always said I was far too soft. For the first time I understood what he meant by that.
    The two men divested me of my belongings, and made me empty my pockets. They took it all—everything, well except for my watch, which was hidden under my shirtsleeve.
    "Should we kill him?"
    "Yeah, let's kill him."
    That was when I stooped, grabbed a water jug, and ran like hell. Their shots missed, but not by much. They kept shooting and ran after me. "These guys must be seriously fucked up," I thought to myself. In only a day and a half, civilization was gone.
    Both the guys chasing me were medium height or less. They lacked my long legs. They also lacked the fear of death their guns instilled in me. I outran them. It took me another fifteen minutes of full on sprinting to lose them, but I did it. I ran at a slower pace after that, but I ran.
    Thanks to Cap, I was still alive. Eight years ago, when I married Cap's daughter, I was overweight and out of shape, in spite of my job in construction. Cap took me in hand, gently at first, and then with an increasing firmness until I was in good physical condition. Now, four extremely early mornings a week when I was home, and a full day on the weekends, Cap put me through his personal version of boot camp hell. I was used to it now, but he still managed to push me almost to my breaking point at least once a week. He didn't spare himself either. After eight years, he could still outrun me, although I was by far the stronger.
    Thanks to Cap, I knew I could keep going longer than the two guys who took my stuff.
    By evening I was a good ten miles farther north. I could see I-25 in the distance every now and then, but I was hidden in the creosote bushes far from the interstate.
    I settled in for the night, hoping no rattlesnakes liked the spot I picked. I took stock of my possessions; one half-full gallon water jug, one watch, my shoes, and the clothes on my back, minus my suit coat, which had been in my pack roll. Everything else was gone. The bug out kit I put together between the grocery store and the hardware store was gone—even the Swiss Army Knife was gone. I didn't even have a single match.
    When Cap and I were together, he constantly told me stories. Most were stories of survival in the wilderness. After a while I stopped listening because I never thought of myself as a survivalist. Now I wished I had paid more attention. I lay there trying to recall all of the survival stories Cap told, one by one, until I fell asleep.
     
    Julie
    I awoke before dawn. The