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Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s Story #190 Left Warm Beach On the Way to Anacortes, WA #TEOTWAWKI #SHTF #WROL

May 14, 2017

To my readers, sorry that it has been so long since I posted another chapter in Ruth’s story. I will try to be more consistent with posts as long as nothing radically changes in my life again.


“I returned to school three years later, but this time I attended Bar Ilan University transferring to Oranim my last year attaining my Master’s. I was short-listed for advancement to major, but I was burnt out in Mossad. On paper I was still IDF, but was permanently attached to Mossad.”

“That was bad?”

“Like most clandestine outfits, Mossad eats their young. Like I said I was burnt out, and bad too. I have done some things that made it difficult to look at the woman in the mirror. I have done some fairly horrible things. Our Muslim friends do not have exclusivity on terrorist acts. Ask any British soldier stationed in Israel after the Second World War. I had a close school friend in Shin Bet, sort of Israel’s version of the FBI, who wanted me to transfer to her unit.”

“Did you transfer to Shin Bet?”

“Never tried. While I was on leave awaiting orders for Mossad I stayed in Jerusalem, mostly in the old part of the city. I was standing in the square, looking at the Temple Mount, wondering if I might enter since I am half Arab. No one would know that I am not Muslim, unless I told them.

I was digging in my purse for my hijab when this blonde bombshell walked up to me and said that she loved my purse. The first thing that struck me is that she badly needed a shower, and the second was that she carried a huge backpack for such a small woman. Amy was barely five-feet tall.”

“I met Amy while she was backpacking through Israel. It was an immediate, powerful attraction. Amy said later that she could not think of anything other than complementing my purse to start a conversation with me. I was not aware that Amy had been watching me for a while as I wandered around. Amy; God the body on that woman; curvy like a country road, with tits that made me look like a boy.”

“I like your tits.”

“Pervert – of course you do. I invited Amy back to my hotel room offering her a chance to shower and launder her clothes. I am usually a somewhat cautious person, not given to impulsive behavior. In my hotel room Amy dropped her pack, and started to strip with a lack of self-consciousness that I envied. With her back to me as she headed for the postage stamp sized bathroom, she kicked off her boots and shimmied out of her pants. Leaving her clothes in a pile, I was surprised that Amy went commando. When she stepped into the shower, I was also surprised to see that the rug matched the drapes.”

“So Amy was a natural blonde and not a bottle blonde. You were not staying in a good hotel? I thought Jerusalem has some nice hotels.”

“It does or rather did. I was being thrifty as I was still living on a captain’s pay, so not exactly flush with more money than I knew how to spend. I noticed that Amy had some serious muscles underneath those luscious curves. Amy’s back and shoulders rippled with taught muscles. Her back was gorgeous, pale like fine porcelain flaring into an ass that you would not believe. Other than a hiker’s tan, Amy was incredibly pale.”

“Sounds like a beautiful woman, and that you loved her.”

“I did so much; probably more than I ever told her. I followed Amy into the bathroom saying some inane things trying not to stare. I was not even sure that she liked women. Here I was practically panting at the sight of her naked, climbing into the shower. The water started and I turned to go to the bedroom. I was grabbed from behind by a wet Amy and yanked fully clothed into the shower landing on my ass. Despite such a small shower, we managed without breaking anything.”

“So love at first sight? And she did like women.”

“Something like that I guess and yes, Amy liked women. Amy had a bad break-up so she went backpacking around the world to get away. I had not been in a relationship since just before the second Palestinian War. Amy and I were inseparable after that. She cancelled the rest of her trip, staying with me at my apartment in Tel Aviv. By the time she had to return to the states or lose her job as a city firefighter, I had resigned my IDF commission, and followed her. I ‘found’ a job with a private security counseling service company, which was just another Mossad front company.”

“So that is how you came to the states. I always wondered.”

“Yes, love brought me to the states, but I was still Mossad, and still worked for Israeli interests above everything else.”

We fall silent as Honey enters the tent carrying tonight’s delicious repast. To prevent vitamin B deficiency we have been eating a lot of canned tuna lately. This meal is a lot of canned tuna with a few different kinds of pasta, with some canned veggies tossed in the mix. At least the bread is fresh, hot and we still have some real butter.

In my old life I would have shuddered at the amount of calories in the butter and bread. I sprinkle salt over the butter on the bread. Right now the bread and salty butter is the best thing I have ever tasted.

The next day we break camp, and get the convoy moving. Warm Beach was a nice stop but we have a goal. We are heading north on back roads heading for a town called Anacortes. Almost all of the bridges on the highways were blown by sappers, or bombed by planes.

Finding a whole bridge on the highway is almost unheard of. In a futile attempt to slow the spread of KCAP, under martial law all of the bridges, including the floating ones were destroyed. The lack of bridges in addition to all of the abandoned cars, make the highways nearly impassable.

The monster snow plow clears most of the smaller vehicles from the road does a good job, but it cannot clear larger vehicles like semi’s. We worry about the snow plow, because if it breaks down and is not repairable, it will seriously hamper our movement.

Our move north is slow; slowing even more when we have to backtrack or divert around obstacles. It does not help that the snow plow has to stop frequently to let Princess either dash to the curb side to pee, or puke her brains out.

I almost feel sorry for the Princess. Her damn fault for getting pregnant. I wonder if Carol has to do a similar sprint for the curb once in awhile. I may ask Carol how she is feeling.

Later that morning the cab of our Dodge truck is filled with an awful stench. All of us immediately roll the windows down despite the pouring rain. Looking around in the cab, while keeping one eye on the road I try to see where the awful stench comes from.

Underneath Honey’s legs, I spot Monster attacking an old olive drab and rust ration can with a P-38 can opener. The stench wafts up from underneath the dash of the truck. We all complain while Monster gleefully crams his mouth full of a 1964 Vietnam-era B-2 ham and lima bean C ration. Fucking disgusting.

After Monster finishes the 70-plus year old ration, Honey tosses the offending can out of the passenger window without splattering Shack with lima bean goo. Honey’s aim is pretty good as she hits a shambling zombie in the side of the head.

I threaten to toss Monster out of the truck as well. Monster climbs out of truck cab like gray monkey. He sits in a pout in the bed of the truck on the bed tool box in the pouring rain. Honey climbs into Shack’s lap and yells at Monster to come back in the cab and to get out of the rain.

Monster pointedly ignores Honey.

“Honey let him pout; he will come back in the cab when he gets hungry and wet enough.”

Honey gives me a dirty look.

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