Tom Locke: Surviving Today II

Every Thursday here at http://www.iamliberty.wordpress.com stay tuned for another exciting chapter in Tom Locke’s story. Its not dystopian but, have mercy, its one man’s survival

  • a darkening forest of  hallow and headscarves

Item #2 was a small zip drive

This contained various types of information about Tom Locke. It contained copies of all the most important documents, passport, id’s, birth certificates, contacts and of course health and allergy information for which he had only one entry and that was bee stings.

Item #3 was a pair of ……

“HELLO!! DO YOU NEED HELP.” Tom screamed out into the falling sun. Something reverberated in his head and sounded like a cry for help. Some cruel joke to be the sole survivor of a plane crash, he thought to himself.

Item #3 was a pair of standard issued handcuff keys….pretty much goes without saying.

Item #4 was a long thin flint that hung from a small stainless steel top that held a smaller key ring. The fire was currently burning on a set of empty chairs and some piles of luggage beneath. Tom hoped the pile was only of luggage. Unfortunately this fire would not burn all night. Right now, though, his body was going through something profound, concussed, a bit of shock. Tom was in now shape to go hunting for firewood.

A heavy crack in the distant woods reminded him that he was not alone. There were big mean bears, wolves, coyotes, mountain lions all in the nooks and crannies of these West Virginian mountains.

Item #5 A mini mace. Tiny and unsubstantial to a bear. In fact Tom nearly laughed out loud thinking about it as more of a seasoning for his carcass under a bears crunching jaws than an actual deterrent. The smaller predators might run from it, if he was lucky. Fact was, it was his only option right now. Once he got back to being himself he could fashion some type of spear out of plane wreckage and a nice stick. Help was on the way though, right?

Item #6 a small …….

Something was slowly approaching him. Stalking almost. Though it was probably little more than a racoon Tom was wary. Going back to the key ring.

Item #6 and the last item. It was a small canister hardly wide enough to fit the diameter of a nickel. Inside were 3 water purifying tablets. He always talked them up to be medication for some illness or another when asked about them. America was so medicated that it really didnt matter. Depression, suppression, oppression, repression to those who asked it was medication and the ailment was not even a requisite.

The evening drew in around him as the moon swelled on the horizon. He could sleep? Though he wondered if he would ever wake up. He didnt know how bad the concussion was and his ankle was throbbing now also. There was not much else he could do at the time without the motivation of propeller blades and rescue lights to get him up.

He thought about the peanut bag and how that could have been his last meal. The night was coming quick and in the dark valleys he could hear it talking already.

The rustle was closer now and at the forest line around the planes path of destruction he saw movement. Two men, Three. Not the shape or even the fact that their were men here so fast that surprised him. It was the red checkered and flat black head scarves they wore. One in red checks and the other in flat black. A forty-five in reds hands and AK’s in the hands of the other two. He couldn’t hear their brogue over the fire and the winds of the mountain top.

Their weapons were up and ready to be fired. They were not here to rescue Tom. His heart began to race. Could this be real? He thought. Was this a forest in Iraq for gods sake. This was about as rural America as it gets. He expected loggers, mountain men, maybe even some Deliverance. The man in red wore a shirt depicting the ISIS flag as clear as day. The Islamic State. The head cutting, executioners of Syria and Iraq somehow wandered out of the woods of West Virginia? Could the day get any worse for old Tom Locke?

At once he realized he hadn’t taken a breath since they appeared and he gasped into the night. A night that just moments ago was to loud to make out what these men were saying suddenly got as silent as a night on the desert floor. His gasp seemed to bounce from mountain top to mountain top and down to the small towns below. When he peered up at the three men again he found them staring back at him…..

 

This entry was published on August 28, 2014 at 2:17 am. It’s filed under Tom Locke and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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