Free Charlie's Requiem: Democide by Walt Browning, Angery American Page A

was eerily quiet as they made their way down the road, as if walking to their own funeral. The only thing heard from the large group was the sniffles of the children and the tiny rumble of their carry-on items as the plastic wheels of the luggage rolled over the asphalt, occasionally jumping over small rocks and pebbles. The hollow echoes of the clicking of high heels, the tick-tack of the luggage rollers bumping over the ground and swishing of pants and skirts marked their passage. Then, like ghosts in the night, they faded into the deepening darkness, disappearing from his life forever.
    Over the next week, Jorge lived with his mother and father, helping them adapt to the situation. After a couple of days, it became evident that no help was on the way. A couple of days after that, the entire family managed to come together at his parent’s modest home. Three of his siblings were married and there was one grandson. Last night, after a lengthy family discussion, it was decided that they were all going to travel south and make their way to his brother Francisco’s place of employment, a large cattle ranch in Osceola county.
    Francisco, the second oldest child, had gone to the College of Central Florida in Ocala and graduated with a degree in agricultural business with a certificate in animal sciences and husbandry. He was hired by a large cattle ranch in Osceola county that owned a herd of thousands of heads. The “Ranch,” as it was called, is comprised of about 295,000 acres, or 450 square miles, stretching across Orange, Osceola, and Brevard counties. It was one of the few places the large family could think of that could allow them to survive. Its isolation, access to water and food and the farm’s need for bodies to protect their herd made the decision to make the forty-mile walk an easy one.
    That morning, the entire family had left their southeast Orlando home, using three bicycles, two of which were towing wagons filled with canned goods and water. His brothers, Francisco and Edwardo provided the group with weapons, both young men having embraced firearms as many young men often do. Two AR-15s, several handguns and several .22 rifles were spread among the large group. All were grimly determined to make the trip as quickly as possible, having witnessed the beginnings of societal breakdown in their neighborhood. Several nights of looting combined with a few local house fires along with the anticipated safety of the ranch, all made the decision to leave a little easier. They left heading south, all except for one. That is how Jorge found himself staring down the road at the young, blonde girl who was sitting on the curb. He continued to watch her as she slowly looked down each side of the street as if waiting for a date to pick her up for the movies.
    Jorge had made the decision to travel downtown to find his girlfriend Maria. Having confirmed that she never made it out to her parent’s house, Jorge had begun his downtown trek at dawn that morning to find her apartment and hopefully bringing her back with him. Eventually, Jorge wanted to make their way to Francisco’s farm (as they liked to call it, even though it wasn’t really his farm).
    “That poor girl,” Tammy whispered as she looked over the top of the same Explorer Jorge had been looking under.
    Tammy and Wayne Hargrave were his new temporary companions. They met on route 436, the Hargraves having joined up with Jorge behind a looted and burned-down McDonalds. Both of his new companions sported a nice external-frame Kelty® backpack, while Jorge was using a simple, cheap book bag his youngest sister had used in high school. The couple also used fiberglass walking sticks and had camelback water bladders. High end hiking boots peeked out from under their jeans.
    The couple had landed at OIA just before the lights went out. They had flown in from Indiana to hike several of the state’s beautiful hiking paths, the first one being the Citrus Hiking Loop, a