GamePlan - A dramatization

The following is a dramatization of a non-doomsday SitX, as it applies to our situation -- islanders on a wee island. I invite you, the kind reader, to fabricate your own, and perhaps in this way, we can discover the flaws in our systems, the weak and strong points of our paradigms. If this turns out to be useful to anyone, perhaps we'll explore more terse situations. Comments, criticism, participation welcome. Have fun!

.............it's been a long night, for both of us -- hardly any breeze and the mosquitos were seeking an entry point in the screen house all night long. Only a few got in, but that was enough. I don't mind sleeping in the hammock, amidst the seedlings and small trees, but I'm pretty certain my Bride is going to be sore, with her arthritic knees, hips and ankles. I'll let her sleep, wake her up with the smells of coffee and breakfast.

I slip through the screened entry room, gently keeping the cats out with my foot; they miss sleeping with their mama. They are hungry. Only the high-flying birds are ever around, and I haven't seen a rodent here in months.

The sea looks a tad rough this morning; I wash my face and grab a handful of sea grape leaves for the morning ablutions. Why did I ever think two cases of TP would be "enough"? I shouldn't have traded any of them. They were priceless.

The wild chickens are up already, and I wander down the trail past the well and check the figure-4 cage traps, but no chickens. I'm tired of fowl anyway.

The coals from last night's banked fire in the caboose [ a sand box for cooking] are still viable, and I spark up a small fire with the seasoned wood we split yesterday. Walking away from the screenhouse, I put eight beans in the grinder and crank it until it's smooth and flour-like, dump into the cup of the worn-out espresso press, fill the bottom and put it on the rack above the small fire. Next to it, I put the SS pot and dip two cups of water from the bucket into it. Something -- maybe the cats, but I don't think so -- has been after the squirrelfish drying on the racks. No matter. Everybody's gotta eat.

Thunder in the distance. That's good. Garden needs watering, and so do the fruit trees. I sit down to peel the husk from a yellow-skinned coconut, carefully setting the husk aside for later shredding, and as I crack it and capture the water, I hear my darlin' groan, roll over and see her wander over to the bowl of washing water.

"Mornin' darlin'."
"mmmft. Don't you wash your face in the mornings?"
"I washed in the sea. Rough today. Might have to fish from shore or walk up to the bay."

"Smells good..... what're we having?"
"rice, Jamaican thyme, coconut and last week's kingfish..... coffee?"
"please." she say, reaching for her cup.

I pour her four ounces of expresso, drop a little coconut milk in from the jar. She smiles, takes a sip, and opens the aluminum box, scraching off another day on the inside of the lid.
"November 1st today." she says.

When the rice, coconut and thyme has hydrated, I add the slices of kingfish and let them steam. I cut two limes in half; tree is old and looking tired, but it still produces well.

She changes her clothes she slept in and straps on her knife in the small of her back. The clouds are looking angry, and she opens up the aluminum case again, looking at the small barometer, tapping the glass.
"barometer's dropping; a tenth since last night."
I nod, dishing up our breakfast and give the cats a little. They'll get the pan later, after it cools.

___________

"Can you make some more hooks? We're down to three..... "
I nod.
"I don't want us to fish alone anymore. Three people were on the beach last night. Looks like they circled around the house to the west, near as I can tell. Probably nothing, but who wouldn't announce themselves? " I ask.
"Everybody's hungry honey. Did you take the breadfruit and fish to the park yesterday?"
"Just the breadfruit, and a couple of coconuts and naseberrys. I want to stock our larders a little more, dry some more fish, and besides, Pryce was down there with a big grouper."
"I don't trust him."
"I don't either, but he's a great fisherman, and he IS sharing."
Nod.

"Emily S_ _ _ _ _ said she heard a plane yesterday. Do you think she really did?"
"Donno. I'm not positive it'd be a good thing if she did. How's that net coming along?" I ask, changing the subject. She pulls the half-done net from when it had been hanging, holds it up. She's been pounding yucca leaves, scraping them, weaving a fishing net. She's been working on it for three or four months.

As the wind shifts suddenly from the northeast, a downpour catches us and the cats chase us to the house, abandoning the screen house for dryer quarters. Hard rain slants down, driven by perhaps 30 mph gusty winds. I go back out to grab the aluminum case; we've gotta watch the barometer; tain't no internet anymore, and it's always in the back of our minds that the worst killer storm in history hit this place on the 8th of November, back in '32.

We hear a pounding on the front door and she takes the machette from its hiding place under the counter.
"Who is it?" I say from next to the door. No answer.
"WHO IS IT?" I say louder.
I hear glass break from the back of our small house -- probably the bedroom. Those windows are boarded up with shutters from the inside, so must be something glass thrown against the side of the house. Don't they realize how precious glass is??

Somehow the short spear appears in my hand. I honestly don't recall grabbing it. I move to the livingroom window, and peer out the small opening in the shutters and see a still form outside, lying by our front door.

"Don't open it. I have a bad feeling about this...... it..... it's a trap..." she whispers. I respect her instincts. We've both come a long way.

The bait has been set. The only question is, will we bite? What if someone is injured? I've done my share of doctoring since the power went down last year, but I ain't much of a doctor. She takes the long spear with the 9" dual metal point and stands back from the door, crouching slightly, nods. I know the wind coming off the sea will probably push the door open hard if I let it. I string two lengths of copper wire across the doorway at knee and ankle height and tie them off on the eyehooks set in the doorframe. I take down the double boards quietly and turn the knob. Silence, except the howling of the wind.



[edit on 23-9-2008 by argentus]

[edit on 23-9-2008 by argentus]

[edit on 23-9-2008 by argentus]

Very well done. Someone else tried a thread similar to this awhile back. Didnt have the same feel to it. Whens the next chapter due?

Ha! and here I thought I was being original

I don't know about the next bit..... I mean, that's our story, and I didn't really want to talk about ourselves as much as hoping that others would spread the wings of their imagination and serve up their own platter.

Thanks much for your response; I'd pretty much figured after 20 views and no reply that it'd be a failed thread. We'll see.

By the way, most of the systems I talk about in the dramatization.... we're using those now. We're both still working, but we are moving toward a very simple existance. I think it'll make an easier transition if TSHTF, but worse case is, it saves us tons of money. The screen house is in process now. I have it all built except for the covering of the steel tubing and wood of aluminum screening.

Cheers

Nice i felt as though i was reading a novel from my local library. Cant wait for the rest.

It was your posts along with Tanna's that got me interested in signing up on this site. It is a good story, and the fact that you are incorporating real life into it makes it less fiction, and more, um....probable?

I'll think about a post similar to your hope of this thread where others add their own stories, so far I cant get past "Man runs to remote cabin with a pile of guns and beans"

Once I get past that, Ill try to add.

Nice one Argen!

I wrote one set in a zombie aftermath just after I left the forces.
With the army groove still buzzing in my head I was pretty 'into' the whole shoot the undead biz.

If I have time I'll finish it off and post it on here for you all to read
It's quite a yarn too.

thanks much Zeit, Salcharana & Watchrider

Salcharana, you have a perfectly good start there! Remember a dose of humor is paramount in a SitX. Man with beans flees to cabin.... and? Alone? Whose cabin? Does ownership matter?

Watchrider, I look forward to your offerings .... I have a feeling it's a somewhat action-packed story, and yes, there are things within the possibility of our future that could involve just such a situation, however unprobable they may seem to us NOW.

Okay, I can see that this is probably yet another of my famous failed threads. I got a million of 'em. Still, if the three of you enjoyed it, I can't consider it anything but a success.

If I'm to forge ahead on my own hypothetical story, perhaps I should ask one of the Mods to move it to the fictional story area? I thought it might have survivalistic insights, but as I imagine future offerings, it sounds more like a dramatic rendition. I'll email one of our Mods for this section and ask.

Cheers

IF you happened to wander in here, I recommend you check out North Raider's thread www.abovetopsecret.com... who has created four different survival scenarios complete with BOB and materials that address those different events.

Potentially good training tools there, as well as food for thought.

I opened the door a crack, and see blood pooling near the head of the prostrate form. I jerk my head at my darlin' and she lines up on the open doorway with the fish gig. What a trouper. She continually amazes me -- her ability to adapt, even though bushcraft isn't in her blood as it is in mine. I jerk open the door and look around. Nobody there but the [now I see] man lying on the ground in front of the door. I pull open the door and drag him inside, while she guards the entryway. He has an open wound on his head, and I'm already thinking a dozen stitches, at least. I feel around his neck and the base of the wound. He has a raised ridge around the wound and it is bruising already.

Alcohol is precious, as we have to run the fractionating still for 8 hours just to harvest a liter of ethyl. I drew off the acetones first, and briefly consider using that for cleansing the wound, but discard that idea. I know better. I turn him over and am amazed........ neither of us knows him!! How can that be??

The man's dark hair is clotted with blood, and after she checks his vital signs I set to cleaning the wound. I have my med kit and have threaded the strerile needle and suture. Sutures are also precious to us, but dang, we can't let the man bleed out before us. The wound is ragged -- more of a tear than a slice -- so I trim some of the skin with the surgical scissors. He groans, but doesn't waken. I take the needle holder..... dammit, it's been a long time since I've done this...... and push it through the flap of skin at close to a 90 degree angle and use the smoothe forceps to gently grip the skin. I am sweating, as usual, and it takes me a couple of tries to recall how to do a "one-handed" square knot. This is a misnomer, as it uses both hands, just one is the major player. In my case, it's my left.

The man started to awaken, and my darlin' pushes him back, making soothing sounds and he relaxes. I tell him, "I'm stitching up a nasty gash in your head. This is gonna hurt a bit, but just chill out, you're among friends." I remember to leave a dinky loop of suture as I go along, to allow for stretching and so as to not constrict the tie. I'm using interrupted sutures, as I don't have the confidence at this point for running sutures, and besides, there is a crapload of blood still leaking out of the wound. This guy is gonna bleed out if I don't get a move on.

I'm having a hell of a time with the curved flap near his crown, and I've backed out a suture twice now, not liking how it constricted. I wish I could remember how to do couch sutures. I'm not even sure that's what they were called....... DAMMIT! I throw down the forceps and dig in the medkit for the staple gun. Of course, this means I have to steralize all over again. I use a little more ethyl on my hands and open the 3M staple gun package, and move it quickly over the torn fissure of the man's scalp. SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! just that easy. I should've done that sooner. It's done. I put three pieces of surgical tape perpedicular to the wound to help hold the stitches and staples.

"That ain't purty, but it'll do, huh?" m'Bride says. I glare at her. She smirks a little, her eyes glistening with laughter. I can't help myself. "You do it next time, okay?" I say, laughing with relief.

The man groans........ "donde soy yo?" he mumbles.. I think I know what he's asking....... "soy....... amigo" I answer, "usted bien." He relaxes. I guess I said the right thing.

"He must've come here from Cuba..." she says, pointing with her chin north. "yes, I suppose so......... I wonder if....."

and we are almost blinded by the concussion of light that comes from the horizon. Instinctively, I slam the door closed, and we both fall to the floor, leaving our patient on the dining room table. I am seeing afterimages of green and I wonder if my eyes are permanently damaged.

"Jesus Christ. Jeee-sus Christ. Oh God. Oh. My. God." she mumbles, as I cover her body with my own on the floor of the living room. About 3-4 minutes later, a harsh and dirty wind slams into the house.

I wish I'd closed the front windows.

Argentus,
This, Sir, is amazing!
Don't know what else to say except "Wow!"
s&f =)
god bless,
~pre

[edit on 7/25/09 by preparanoid]

I tried to add this via edit but for some reason it didn't work...
I do have a question.
You mentioned that yall have the supplies you are describing or are working on them. Is the 3M staple kit you referred to medical grade and something one can order? I can do stitches but boy would that be a handy addition...
thanks,
~pre
(off to google staple kits now, also)

reply to post by preparanoid


Thanks much Pre; appreciate the kind words and your patience at reading through all that !

It's a medical quality 3M skin stapler, and I got it from Wiseman Trading Company. They stock a LOT of stuff, good prices. We have half a dozen of these 3M kits; I also got some SAM splints from them. Our Med kit now is a sectioned backpack. Sutures are hard to come by; they're foil sealed, but still "age" over time.

Nice to meet you

Edit to add: BTW, I absolutely LOVE your signature I start getting nervous when we're down to less than two dozen vacuum-sealed foil bricks of Cuban espresso. Excellent kick-start. m'Bride and I have a four-serving each in the morning. Keeps well, even in our heat and humidity. When Hurricane Paloma kicked our collective butts last November, that espresso was the anchor toward restoring a sense of normalcy, as well as a welcome treat for the neighborhood. That, and hot showers

[edit on 25/7/09 by argentus]

Sooo...
How long till the next part??
Nice to meet you as well!
I know what you mean about coffee being restoring in crisis times. Several years ago we had an ice storm. Big, hairy, National Guard going house to house checking for bodies sorta storm. We were outta power for 17 days. Not just us but everyone within a huge area. Wal-Mart was closed, banks, gas stations... all those things people think just won't happen. But I had a stove and this
[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/9d8e13863732.jpg[/atsimg]

and of course, my stored coffee, creamer, shelf-stable milk and sugar. It definitely helped take the edge off and provide a sense of, as you said, normalcy. I didn't have the hot showers, though. That would have been pretty awesome. But I had water warm on the stove at all times and wrapped baby wipes in foil and heated them on the stove for warm, quick cleanups. I buy less $$ coffee for storage because I know from experience now that any coffee is good coffee (for me) in those situations, but I keep some better stuff normally also. People talk about coffee as a barter item but I'm not sure I'd ever trade mine away!=) Bet you can relate!
Ya know, without being prepared I don't know how we (My son was 5) would have handled it. Thank God for coffee and country common sense!
Now...
About that story...?=)
gb,
~pre
The worst thing about that storm was being confronted with how truly clueless so many of my neighbors were. I guess I always thought being in the country, my nearest neighbors wouldn't be clueless. I was very wrong. People helped other people. It wasn't the chaos some fear. I've always thought that would be worse in the cities. But ...clueless...

reply to post by argentus

Got some of those staplers at Bass Pro! Mainly I'm replying to bump this because it's so awesome and ask how the new chapter is coming along!
take care and good morning!
~prep