Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s story #150 We discover Kayak Point is occupied #TEOTWAWKI #SHTF #WROL

The Mobile Gun Stryker parks at the sharp turn at the top of the hill leading to the beach below. We pass the Stryker as it sets its securing stanchions, its crew running around the outside. Two of the Stryker lads leap into one of the UTVs, tearing down to the beach with a mound of empty sand bag sacks.

The rest of the gun crew prep shells and lay out their defense. I note that they are planning to surround the MGS with a barrier of sand bags. This park at one time had a lot of trees. Most of the trees have been cut down which makes it easier for the MGS to swing her long gun.

The lack of trees also gives the MGS a clear line of sight for the whole bay in front of them. Behind the MGS towards the gate, the gun has a nearly unobstructed line of fire. Several smaller burnt-out buildings, which might be the remains of the park ranger’s offices, are to the left of the MGS’s positon.

Several soldiers from the rearward vehicles lay mines, including claymores and other antipersonnel mines in the bushes and along the roadway. There is only one way in and out of Kayak Point unless we abandon the vehicles. Pinned against the bay, an attacking force could hand us an ignoble defeat similar to the British at Dunkirk.

Walking behind one of her Russian husbands, I see that Rain still caries her old Belgian-made Browning .25 ACP pistol in a cheap black nylon shoulder holster. The Russian husband pushes a wheel barrow loaded with old Soviet antipersonnel mines. Rain drags an old, wooden, two-wheeled cart covered in a woodland camouflaged tarp.

I bet Rain’s cart is also full of old Soviet mines and other nasty weapons. As the Russian turns to say something to Rain, I notice that he carries an old PP-2000 9×19 sub-machine gun. I wonder if the Russian husband worked for the interior before KCAP. I also wonder if that sub-machine gun he carries is full of the unique +P+ armor-piercing version of the 9mm cartridge.

Turning back to the road, I notice that one of the soldiers assigned to the sole remaining Stryker is setting up an ancient Knight’s Armament Company Stoner LMG A1. The old, tan FDE 30-06 machinegun is rather rare – I wonder where he got such a unique weapon.

I also wonder how much 30-06 ammo the soldier has. The old Stoner fires from 20-round box magazines, but was very accurate. With the battered ACOG mounted upon the Stoner LMG the soldier should be able to direct accurate fire.

Shack leans out the door as the overloaded UTV passes us. He yells that the beach is rock, not sand but the soldiers do not hear him over the roar of the UTV’s engine. Shack shrugs and rides in silence as we drive down into the beach area. The smell of smoke and salt hangs over the area.

There are quite a few people in the park. I am surprised to see so many canoes and other water craft beached in the gently rolling surf. I slow the truck unsure if the people standing around the old picnic shelters are friend or foe.

The colonels drive down, park their car and get out. The colonels immediately start shaking hands and greeting the people around the picnic shelters. The group has obviously been camped here for a while, judging by the tents and amount of refuse.

I notice several wooden canoes, which judging by the decoration must be tribal. I had heard that Brenda and most of the former Adventists were members of some of the local Native American tribes. I wonder if these canoes might be from similar or allied tribes.

Standing beside the idling truck I notice that it is not actually one group, but rather several distinct groups camped here together. There appears to be a few different tribes perhaps, and at least one or more distinct groups of survivors. I climb on top of the truck to get a better look. Shack follows me leaving Honey and LM in the cab.

From my vantage point on the cab roof I can see that Kayak Point is in total chaos. I see the colonels are having a heated discussion with a tall, stocky white man dressed in a faded OD green field coat.

The white man arguing with the colonels has dark, narrow eyes, a fixed sneer, and jet-black hair shot with gray worn in a pony tail to the bottom of his shoulder blades. He holds in his arms a weapon, but from this distance I cannot name it.

The small area at the foot of the hill becomes a madhouse as the convoy attempts to reorganize itself in the wake of finding Kayak Point occupied. We did not expect to find Kayak Point occupied.

Brenda and her husbands start unloading equipment. Directing the HEMTT towing the engineering trailer to park near her vehicle, Brenda starts surveying the beach. I know that Brenda wants to be as close as possible to the beach because that is where most of the wood is and where the salt water will come from.

I see quite a bit of drift wood scattered on the beach. Most of the larger material including whole logs are still strewn over the beach. All of the smaller drift wood has already been burnt. We brought bucking saws, as well as splitting equipment. Shack told me that the engineering trailer has a ginormous air-powered chainsaw in it.

I wonder if the diesel cost running the air compressor will be less than the cost of gasoline in a chainsaw. Shack assures me that diesel is easier to make and procure than gasoline, so running the air compressor will be worth it. He tells me that the ginormous air-powered chainsaw has a five foot long blade that will cut the largest logs with ease.

The more wood that we can cut as fast as possible, means the sooner that we can get off of this exposed beach. The less distance that we have to haul water and fuel, the more efficient the process will be. The cooks start assembling the cook tent, while everyone else jockeys for position. With the cooks and Brenda’s crew adding to the chaos the mood turns dark as arguments break out.

To the north, from a group of nice houses that once bordered this park, walks a small group of obviously KCAP-infected people. The group of infected are armed but from this distance I canot see with what. I lean over into the cab, yelling at Honey to hand me the binoculars from the glove compartment.

The sight of the infected causes instant panic – weapons are drawn.