The End Boxset: Postapocalyptic Visions of an Unstoppable Collapse Read Online Free

supplies. He drove a pickup truck, which he always kept on full. He built a small shed where he stored five gallon jugs of gasoline. His storage room in the trailer, under double padlock, contained a hefty supply of ammunition, for both his pistol and rifle, a survival bag (commonly referred to as a bug-out-bag), three liters of water (roughly 72 hours’ worth), a box of spending cash, and camping and tactical army gear left over from his military days. The kitchen cabinets, above and around the portable stove, were jammed pack with Tupperware containers holding non-perishable foods. Jeremy had effectively “stocked-up” for the worst, but just how long would everything last? His estimations gave it a month. Jeremy felt that he needed to be doing more, though he had already utilized all the space in his rented trailer.
     
    He was ages behind what some of his other prepper friends were doing. They organized meetings where, initially, ten of more would show up. Soon that number grew to twenty. Then one day, thirty. There was a real and genuine sense that looming disaster was right around the corner. Everyone could feel it.  Most of the other members had families to speak of. Families they were trying to protect. That was their prime concern in wanting to learn prepping and survivalist techniques.  Jeremy's concern was self-preservation. He wasn't going to put himself in a position where he was at the mercy of others. Complete and total self-reliance, “that's the key,” Jeremy thought. The head of the group, Rob, was a well-mannered man in his late forties. He always wore polo shirts with slacks. At his first meeting with the prepper group, Jeremy had wondered if he'd stumbled into a timeshare seminar upon meeting Rob. But as he would soon find out, Rob was a natural born organizer. His tones of urgency and resolve were comforting in these troubled times.
     
    During a meeting at a local sandwich shop, he repeatedly stressed preparation at all times, even to the smallest degree. “We need to be active in our communities, spreading these tips with friends and neighbors so they can be prepared when the collapse comes. It's going to be boots on the ground or boots on our necks,” Rob proclaimed with applause from the crowd.
    A bespectacled man in the middle of the group stood up to address Rob. Jeremy had never seen the man before, though it did appear that there were some fresh faces this time.
    “But how much longer do we have?” The man demanded.
    Rob turned to the man, the room quieted for his response.
    “I can't truly say. Who can? We could have fifty years, we could have one minute.  We only have the time we allow ourselves. It pains me to no end to think that someday soon, I'll have to leave this country that I love and flee somewhere else, but when the moment comes I won't hesitate. Many of you feel the same way, I know. I will say now that it's actually quite simple. Be ready, be vigilant, and be careful.”
     
    The bespectacled man, slightly confused, lowered to his seat as the crowd applauded. Jeremy clapped along, wanting to hear more. He wanted to hear how they could guarantee survival after society crumbled. So many questions in so little time. And their time, apparently, was about to run out.
     
    Jeremy went about his business at the school, mopping the floors and picking up trash around the floor. His mind raced with prepper tactics. He was planning the construction of separate storage units for additional supplies: MREs, a raised bed garden for food, and additional nonperishables and supplies. He would also need chemical gear—gas mask, suit, and filters—to protect against a chemical attack. His mind was racing with the options; all the things that still needed to be done before it was too late.
     
    “You missed a spot,” an eighth grader said walking past Jeremy, eliminating his train of thought.
    Jeremy stopped mopping, his eyes following the boy as he met with a group of friends, laughing