Chapter 1

I knew I was in my bed. That damned spring always caught me in the shoulder blade. But why was I so—slow? Sounds were distant and my heartbeat was very loud and personal, as if I were under water. I relaxed back into sleep.

I awoke ravenous. I tried to sit up and couldn't. I couldn't help it— I panicked. My fingernails tore something like heavy paper. Instead of warm, now I felt wet. Cough? I thought I was going to cough myself to death. Finally, thank god, it ended. I flopped over onto my stomach, tearing away the layer around me that resembled a garbage sack. I sank back into sleep.

Damn! I was hungry! I was suddenly awake, none of this groaning and aching stuff. I found myself sitting up at the edge of my bed and nothing hurt. NOTHING HURT. Not my ankles, not my knees, not my shoulder, not my neck, not my rotten teeth, not my lower back (always a rare treat), not even my wrists. I went to bed February 27, 48 hard years old. I had diabetes, high blood pressure ( 292 over 270 scared the doctor more than me), destroyed ankles and knees from sports. I drank myself to sleep every night. I weighted over 300. I was single. After watching my parents screw up their marriage and then die in 1977 and 78, I was shell-shocked enough to never inflict myself on anyone in a relationship, much less a marriage.

I WAS over 300 pounds. When I awoke I may have topped the scales at 90. I was terminally thin. I could see my bones thru my skin. I didn't know what happened, but it sure as hell beat a fat farm. The bathroom mirror shocked me. I looked like a teenager again. My tongue no longer encountered the familiar stubs and holes of my destroyed dentition—my teeth were intact again. The mirror showed me my familiar bearded face yet the wrinkles and pores were gone. I was examining myself without my glasses. Hot damn! I'd worn glasses since grade school! Forty-Four years of glasses gone! I peed and tried the tap—nothing, then headed to the kitchen. The cell phone was dead. No battery. So was all the other electrically powered devices in the place. I didn't dare open the fridge. The freezer HAD been packed with meat. Nasty. There was NO traffic on the 4-lane outside my apartment.

That used to be one of the busiest strips in the county. Spooky. Electric stove. Fuck 'em. Gear up, son. I dug out a propane camping stove and two gallons of water. Corn meal, raisins, sugar and canned milk filled me up nicely, thank you. I took my vitamins from the bathroom out of sheer habit then sat to think.

Some sort of regeneration had hit me. No electricity or water meant the apartment was a death trap—no sanitation. My camping gear gave me a hand up, and my weapons in storage gave me even more. There's a difference between survival and sustainable living and I was about to find out which I was in for. The 2-meter radio in my bedroom could be hooked to my jeep's 12-volt circuit. So could my Sony ICF-2010 all-band receiver.

Time to meet and greet the locals, if any were still around. I dressed in sturdy gear (lots of room in these clothes, folks!), belted on my 22 mag pistol and a basic get-out-of-Dodge pack and unlocked the door. Phew! My neighbors must not have made it. I headed outside. Somebody had shredded my poor jeep's top and dug thru it looking for whatever. The canned beans and peaches were gone from the camping box in the back, but the pots and tarp were OK. That's what I was really looking for. They weren't easily replaceable. The duffle bag full of clothes was gone, but that was OK. I needed to go "shopping" anyway. I didn't want to come back here if I didn't have to. I cleared out the jeep's clutter, then went back in to pack. I had some MREs, several boxes of dried and canned food, a couple of wooden boxes of camping gear and a decent 20-degree sleeping bag. All my tool kits came with me, and my medical kit. My knife collection topped it off. I spent a good hour matching which blade went with what sheath.

The motor started! That was evidence of no EMP. I pulled the jeep around to an easy access door and loaded my stuff up. I hooked up the radio to the battery and gave a good listen. The bands were clear. This was not good. What was the local Civil Defense hangout? Tri-Com was the 911 clearing house near the sheriff's station. It was only a few miles away. Time to roll. First, weapons. I visited my stash and loaded up on winter camping gear, rope, and all the tarps I had, canvas and plastic. I picked up my rifles and ammo boxes, too.

Now over to the Sheriff's department. Jesus. It looked like a war zone. The military had been called out before everything took a crap. There were O.D. humvees and 4x4s in the parking lot. There was also smoke rising from the chimney. What if the prisoners took over the jail? Shit. At the bottom of my trapping pack was a .45 caliber derringer from my cowboy shooting days. I filled it with .410 cartridges and put my left mitten on over it. The .22 mag and pouch of ammo went under the seat. I hit "shave and a haircut" on the horn and waited.

All I saw were eyes. Lots of eyes. There must have been 17-20 people in there. Finally someone pushed open the door and started yelling at me with a bullhorn. He sure was a yammer head. The guy wouldn't shut up. He kept ranting on about God's Will and keeping our oath to God and whatever. Finally I keyed up my 2-meter amped to a speaker.

"Would you just shut up? If you've got something to say, say it. Else bag it." He just stood there, lipping like a fish out of water. Then he went back in. If that's what was left there wasn't much hope. Fuck it. I turned the jeep around and headed for the parking lot. I was going to provision up and get out of Dodge.

The 4x4's in the lot looked like a good trade-in, especially at the current rate of exchange. Namely, nothing. The keys were in the dash of the third one, thank god. Bench seat, military radio (what the hell should I do with THAT?), back end full of toilet paper, tampons and paper towels. What a waste. Both tanks were full of diesel. I dumped all but a case of paper towels and two of TP. I remembered hearing about an army field medic that plugged bullet holes with tampons and kept a case. I transferred my stuff from the jeep (canvas tents, pots & pans, canned goods, hammers, nails, poles, LED lanterns, lots a batteries, etc).

I damned hear had a heart attack when someone spoke up from behind me. "Hey, Mister!" "Jesus!" I looked to find a kid behind the next truck over buried in an adult's coat. "If you smell anything, that's me. You scared the crap out of me." I got a little smile out of that one. "You leaving? In the truck, I mean." "Yeah. I'm not sticking around anyone that thinks Jesus knows best. It's a little late for that." "Would you take me with you? Me and my sister, well, we don't feel safe here." Now I was curious. "Why not?" "The reverend stopped mentioning the bible and started saying "my flock" about a week ago. And I don't like his hand on my butt, either."

That raised my eyebrows. Nobody likes a sick fuck.

"Tell you what. I'll pull out of here and drive down to the intersection. I'll be behind the gas station there until tomorrow, about 10. That's four hands high, four hours after sunup—You know how to tell time with your hand?"

I showed him how to ballpark the time.

"You collect anyone that wants out and ease over here. Don't make it obvious. Don't take anything that will be missed. We'll go shopping over at Gander Mountain for clothes and shoes. Then we'll see where to go winter over till spring. OK?"

I got a grin for my troubles. I finished off stealing my new ride and took off. I kept the keys to the jeep. Fuck 'em. I took ALL the keys I could find. The truck started OK. Thank god I'd learned to drive a stick. I rolled out down the road to the West and then South to throw off anyone watching. Besides, I was hungry as hell again. Time to check out the Aldi's distribution warehouse to see if the refrigeration was still working. It was the closest regional foods warehouse that I could think of.

The place was still running off of a propane generator and bulk tank! Hot damn! Aldi's doesn't carry high quality meats, but it does carry lots of frozen economy packs. I broke into the office to see what I could find. The automatic calendar grabbed my attention—it was March 21st. I had slept for over three weeks.

There were some newspapers on the manager's desk with what I thought were interesting headlines. They were all different, but talked about the 'chrysalis bug'. There were articles guessing everything from bio-warfare to an escaped bug designed for astronauts to hibernate.

I sat for a while trying to deal with the ramifications. If it had hit everyone else like it had hit me, only the morbidly obese had survived. (That's really fat, to you)

There were plenty of fat people in the US before the change. Thinking about the kid, I realized that kids would have a tough time of it. Fat kids would have been TV addicts. No real skills. There were plenty of old, fat farmers and their wives.

Obviously there had been enough deaths to wipe out any central services. It was an automatic death sentence to the military, fire and police. They had to stay in shape to keep their jobs. I'd never seen a fat EMT Tech, either. Fat doctors? maybe. Nurses? sure! The problem may be too many people left with no ambition. This time around I was going to use it, not abuse it. This was a gift I wasn't going to turn down.

Time to get a grip and make some decisions. First, to eat. One town South, Geneva, had an Ace hardware store. It was kind of spooky, shopping in the darkened store. I took a couple of grills, a couple of gas heaters and all the propane and charcoal they had. The Carhart's rack gave me a new wardrobe. I was especially glad to find the five gallon commercial water cooler jugs for sale—full. I was getting dry and worried about water.

Next, the sporting goods store, downtown Geneva. It was a little mom 'n pop shop by the river that had been there since WW II or so. They had a nice rack of insulated camo coveralls for deer hunting. I geared up and felt LOTS warmer. The disposable heater packs were nice, too. I never was much for fishing, but kept up with the subject. The new micro-lines were tough as hell. I took 3 bulk spools of 1000 yards, each 240 pounds test weight. I was very surprised to find a pair of Ruger single-sixes behind the gun case. They were blued and had six inch barrels, in .38/ .357. The service tag said that they'd just come back from a gunsmith, having their triggers slicked for competition. Just what the doctor ordered. I'd sold my old Rugers years ago. I appropriated them, and looked around for anything in a .22 Magnum. One rifle, a Savage all-weather, and two revolvers. I already owned a single-shot 30-06 Handi-rifle with a nice scope, a 12-gauge double barreled coach shotgun and a Marlin Cowboy II 38/357 with an eleven shot tube magazine.

The common ammo pleased me very much. There was a nearly new Smith & Wesson chromed .357 with a six inch barrel behind the glass counter. You can't get them anymore! They're out of production. Was became the operative word. My shopping cart was getting full. The shotgun rack almost defeated me, but a trip back to the Ace store gave me a pair of bolt cutters. I made a note to try to find a gas-powered cutoff saw, and took all the cutoff wheels I could find while I was there. Three Remington pump 12-gauges and a 20 gauge over-and-under to the better, I took all the ammo I could find in .357, .38 and .22 mag then left. The big 'ol safe tempted me, but I didn't have the tools or time to mess with it. Besides, there was a MUCH nicer gun store 20-or-so miles north. Let's hope the competition was sparse.

Paranoid? you betcha. I had no idea about the competition and didn't want that sick feeling of having underestimated an enemy. There was too much of a chance of gang behavior to feel comfortable. I HAD read lord of the flies. It was getting dark, so I motored back to the warehouse and locked up behind myself. Where were the dogs? The cats? I saw few birds, but they were usually sparse this time of year. Where the hell were the PEOPLE? If there was such a problem with obesity before the change, where were the survivors? Was there another contributing factor?

I grilled some chops and potatoes, opened some soda and pigged out. It surprised me how little it took to fill me up. Well, back to aboriginal eating patterns—small meals often. I vowed to keep a pocket full of nuts and raisins handy. The fruits and veggies were refrigerated, so were still good. I grabbed 10 pounds of apples and 10 of carrots, found a case of baked beans and filled a cooler with porkchops. I loaded The truck back up and headed for the rendezvous with the kids, leaving the used grill and taking the new one. Hell, I'd be back anyway. I wanted a semi!

I pulled into the gas station from the East, lights out, invisible from the Sheriff's station up the road. When I pulled up and killed it, four faces peered out of the bushes. This time I was ready and didn't almost piss myself. I rolled down the window.

"anybody need a lift?" The kid I'd talked to earlier came out to greet me. "Hi. You're back." Nothing like the obvious. "I said I would. Is this all of your tribe that's going?" "Yeah. Everyone else is either too scared to come or locked in." "Ok, everybody on the bus. We're getting out of here. It's too close to the right reverend to make me happy." I heard some banging and thumping for a bit, then silence. I took that as a good thing and powered up. First, clothes for the masses. Back to Ace and the Carhart selection. "OK, everybody out of the bus. Let's go shopping." Christ. My troop had grown. Seven kids piled out. I grabbed a couple of LED lanterns and handed 'em out. The first thing they hit was the candy counter. Figures. They were eating awfully carefully, though. They were sharing. Good sign. "You guys looks starved."

My small friend looked back. No smiles, there.

"We are. We have been"

Shit. Food now, clothes later. I found the big rental grill in the back of the store and pulled it outside. Charcoal, lighter fluid and a match later, we had a fire. I put them to clearing an area inside the store and dragged a couple of picnic tables together, then started four propane patio heaters. I raided the cooking section for plates, forks, knives, spoons and cookie sheets. I put the frozen chops on the cookie sheets to thaw quickly. Apples got distributed and I put two kids to work opening cans of beans. We found bowls and divvied up the veggies while the chops cooked. I split the carrots and put them on the grill over a couple of cookie sheets. Gatorade was everywhere. I ate as well. Hunger really is the best sauce. When they slowed down I started making introductions.

"Hi. I'm Harry Faxon. I'm 49 even though I look 16. I've camped and hiked throughout my youth. I've worked on a farm. I'm pretty good with a pistol or rifle. I hate shotguns. They make my shoulder sore. Now, who are y'all? That got a grin. I gave each one a hug as we talked. My fried was Terri. Yup, girl, not guy. She was 22, looked 16, muddy blonde, skinny. Her sister was Linda, all of 12 years old. MAJOR family resemblance. Bob was 14, dark hair, dark eyes. Tom, his neighbor, was 13. Nordic. Cindy was 35, looked 16. Redhead. Ruth was 44, looked 16. Apache? Nope, I asked. She smiled, "Navaho." Jeri was 18. An emaciated blonde cheerleader. Everybody, including me, was thinner than thin.

It's a good thing the Carhart rack had a good supply of size "small". I found the swimming stuff in the back storage and brought out air mattresses. We all puffed ourselves silly filling the things up. Canvas tarps made for sheets. Rough, but effective. We set up buckets for a latrine. There was plenty of toilet paper in the store. We bedded down in the rear of the store for the night, leaving an LED lantern on for lights. Later, it got cold. More tarps for everyone worked fine. I woke up with Linda on one side and Cindy on the other, snuggled up. I could get used to this. I lazed there savoring the feeling, luxuriating in their warm, slow breathing. Damn. Pee break. That started everyone up. I cranked two propane heaters on. Be damned with the CO warning. The front door glass was busted anyway. The morning saw another clothing raid. We pretty well took care of the coats and overalls. We really needed more, as well as pants, underwear, socks and boots. Everyone had a whore's bath with spray counter cleaner and shop rags. First things first. "Everybody on the Bus! Time to get fed!" More smiles. Nice cooperative bunch, this.

Back to Aldi's. The power was still on. More smiles from me. I'd better refill that bulk tank, quick I had no idea how full it was.

The first order of business was breakfast. Damn. No griddles. I looked around and found a granite-wear coffeepot. It was strange looking eggs, but it was scrambled eggs. The bacon got grilled, somehow. I got muscled out of the "kitchen" by Ruth and Cindy. Thank God. I had enough to do. I found two semis with reefer boxes on 'em. Both were still running. Thank god for a cold March or they'd be dry. I got 'em to the filling station and filled up the reefer tanks as well as the dual Diesel tanks... This could be trouble without power. Next "purchase" would be a generator to sub into any gas station when we needed an on-the-road fill up. This took until nearly noon. We had burgers on thawed buns for lunch, more beans and fruit cup.