BREAKOUT

Darrell Maloney

This is a work of fiction. All persons depicted in this book are fictional characters. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Copyright 2014 by Darrell Maloney

A recap of FINAL DAWN, the first book in this series

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    Sometimes the gods of fate smile upon you, and bestow upon you a treasure of such magnitude, such wonder, that you pinch yourself over and over until you finally believe it’s really real.

     And sometimes those same gods bestow upon you a bowl of smelly, steaming crap.

     They seldom do both within the same week.

     Mark Snyder seldom played the lottery himself. He considered it a hopeless waste of money. But the love of his life, Hannah Jelinovic, played regularly. And sweet Hannah had been sick in bed for two days and hadn’t been able to get out.

     So on a lark, Mark picked up a ticket for her. The right numbers came up and Hannah and Mark were suddenly multi-millionaires. Things seemingly couldn’t be better.

     But not so fast. The very next day Hannah went back to work as a contractor for NASA, tracking meteorites and asteroids in the heavens. She discovered a new one. One that was heading for earth. And it was bigger than the one that wiped out the dinosaurs four million years before.

     For her efforts, Hannah was demoted and threatened with prison if she disclosed the information to anyone.

     “But why?” she asked.

     “Because it won’t be here for almost three years. We have plenty of time to divert it or destroy it. Telling the public will just cause panic.”

     But Mark and Hannah knew better than to trust the government. They began using their newfound wealth to prepare for Armageddon.

     The couple enlisted the help of Mark’s brother Bryan and Hannah’s best friend and co-worker Sarah. They purchased an abandoned salt mine that would afford them the protection they needed to survive deep underground.

     Then it was just a matter of getting it ready. They created a list of those they’d take into the mine with them. Those family members and close friends who made the cut would become part of the forty who would spend five to seven years underground. Waiting for the dirt kicked up by the meteorite designated Saris 7 to fall back out of the atmosphere, so that the sun would shine through again and thaw a frozen earth.

     There were a million and one things to consider. It wasn’t just a matter of buying food and water for forty people for seven years. That would have been tough enough. But to do so secretly required a lot of planning.

     And there were other things as well. The group had to plan for electrical power, fuel, supplies, medicine, and a thousand other things we take for granted until faced with not having them anymore.

     Meanwhile, Hannah and Sarah waited for their employer to do the right thing… to tell the public what was coming, and let the world prepare for it. They heard from an insider that there are no plans to save the world. Only a chosen few in Washington and their families and friends. The President of the United States had a place to hide, in the cold war bomb-proof shelters beneath the streets of Washington. And he had plans to take four hundred or so others with him. Family, friends, cronies. For the rest of the United States, they’d be on their own.

     For Hannah and Mark, Sarah and Bryan, that just wouldn’t do. The girls risked prison to go on national television to tell the world. Then they went into hiding in the mine.

     The federal government, of course, tried to discredit them and claimed it was a hoax, until other scientists began speaking publicly around the world to support Hannah’s claims.

     Faced with undeniable evidence of the truth, the President had to backtrack. He shifted to his Plan B… another lie.

     “Don’t worry,” he told his citizens. “We have a plan. We’ll work with the Chinese. By combining their rockets with our nuclear warheads, we can send up a weapon capable of diverting the meteorite onto another path.”

     People around the world were conflicted. They desperately wanted to believe. No one wanted to die. But they knew they couldn’t trust their governments. Some panicked. Some rioted. Some calmly accepted their fate.

     And some, like Mark and Hannah, continued to prepare for the end.

     A few days before impact, the mine was finally ready. The group gathered up family and friends and gave them shelter. It wasn’t a tropical paradise, but it would enable them to survive.

     Final Dawn ended when Saris 7 collided with the earth. Around the world, millions were dying. But hidden deep within an old salt mine outside of Junction, Texas, these forty would survive.

A recap of HIDDEN, the second book in this series

     For six and a half years, the world had grown dark and cold. Outside the mine, the survivors struggled to stay alive. The worst of mankind reared its ugly head, as men fought each other to the death for meager provisions and belongings. But the better side of mankind was also present. Neighbor helped neighbor and strangers sometimes banded together for mutual strength and protection.

     Inside the mine, the group of forty were better off than most. But they weren’t insulated from either the violence or the pain.

     There were joyful times as well. New love sprouted. And Hannah’s baby, Markie Junior, was a chip off the old block. A handful to be sure, but one who spread joy and cheer to everyone around him.

     The group welcomed two more into their fold amidst tragic circumstances. And it wouldn’t be the only pain they felt. Mark’s mother died while in the mine, a tragedy no one saw coming.

     For years they planned and prepared. Watched the skies for relief from the haze that covered the sun and kept the earth from thawing. And when the sun finally returned, they broke out from their subterranean prison, to take up residence in a compound they’d built before the disaster.

     Most of the world was dead now. But many of the people who remained were little more than animals. For a long time they followed no laws and offered no quarter. They learned to take what they wanted and to kill whoever got in their way.

     The group of forty had planned carefully. Had grown a limited number of plants within the mine for the purpose of having seeds for crops. They raised livestock in the mine, and planned to form a community outside the mine when the world warmed again.

     But the meteorite and its fallout wouldn’t be the only threat they were to face.

Here, in Breakout, is Book 3 of this series.

Chapter 1

     Hannah hadn’t slept in a real bed for a very long time. For six and a half years she and Mark had slept on a four inch mattress in the back of a recreational vehicle, deeply hidden within an abandoned salt mine.

     Oh, the mattress wasn’t that bad. Not really. And considering that most of the world was dying outside the mine while she was able to sleep safely at night, she really had nothing to complain about.

     But now that the group had finally broken out of the mine and ventured out into a brave new world, Hannah was looking forward to a real bed, soft and warm and big enough to stretch out in.

     And now, on their very first night outside the mine and in a nearby walled compound, she was sleeping like a baby.

     Was.

     But not any more.

     Little Markie, almost six and a total mini-me of his father, crawled into bed beside her and poked his finger into her cheek. Three times.

     “Mommy, are you awake?”

     Hannah was now somewhere between slumber and consciousness, in that foggy zone where one isn’t sure whether or not they’re dreaming.

     But she sure hoped she was.

     Then she felt it again. The tapping of the finger. And the accompanying words: “Mommy, are you awake?”

     “No, honey. Mommy is sleeping.”

     Please be a dream. Please be a dream.

     “Mommy, I’m afraid.”

     Nothing gets a mother’s attention faster than a child who’s afraid. Hannah’s eyes were instantly open, her mind immediately searching for whatever had frightened her dear child.

     She looked at Markie, lying in the bed beside her.

     “Afraid of what, little sailor?”

     “I don’t like this place. I want to go home.”

     Her heart sank.

     She lifted up the covers so little Markie could crawl inside with her and Mark. Then she patted her pillow. “Lay your little head right here and snuggle with Mommy. Tell me why you’re afraid.”

     “I don’t like my new bed. I want to go home.”

     “Honey, we are home. We just stayed in the other place while we were waiting for it to get light again outside. And waiting for it to be warm again, so we could come out of the mine. This will be our home from now on. You’ll get used to it, I promise.”

     The cramped RV in the back of the mine was the only home Markie had ever known.

     “No. I don’t like it. I’m scared.”

     “Why don’t you like it, honey? What scares you about it?”

     “My bed is way too big. It’s big enough for monsters to live in. I don’t want to wake up and find monsters in my bed. And I can’t see you and Daddy from my new bed. I could see you and Daddy before, except when you closed the door. And then I could see the door. But I can’t even see your door from my new bed. And I’m scared.”

     “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

     She held him close.

     “I know for a fact that no monsters will ever get in your bed. No monsters are allowed in this building. Your daddy put a big sign out in front that says ‘Monsters Go Away.’ So all of the monsters have to go bother somebody else. They can’t even come in here.”

     “Can’t they break in?”

     “Nope. We have monster proof locks. We had to order them special from the Monster Proof Store. And your silly daddy, he hung them upside down the first time. So Uncle Bryan had to come and show him how to do it right.”

     “Daddy is pretty silly, huh?”

     “You got that right, little buddy. He’s sillier than all the sand on the beach.”

     “No, Mommy. He’s sillier than all the stars in the sky.”

     “No, little sailor. He’s sillier than all the water in the ocean.”

     Markie’s face grew serious.

     “Mommy?”

     “Yes, sir?”

     “I’ve never seen those things… stars and beaches and oceans. Except in picture books. Will I ever get to see them for real?”

     She brushed aside some hair that had fallen into eyes.

     “Oh, yes. Maybe not the ocean. We’re very far away. And the beaches, well, they’re the oceans’ next door neighbors. We’ll try to take you to see both of them someday. But the stars, the stars live right here with us in our new home.”

     “They do? For the reals?”

     “Yes, sir. For the reals.”

     “When can I see them?”

     “I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow night we’ll ask Daddy how to get up to the roof. And we’ll all go up there, and if it’s not too cloudy, maybe we can see the stars. Oh, and maybe even the moon too.”

     His eyes grew as big as saucers.

     “The moon too?”

     “Yep. If it’s out. Sometimes it hides for a few days.”

     “Oh, I hope it’s not hiding. I want to see it and the stars.”

     Hannah turned her head to look at Mark. He was still sleeping like a baby, his mouth open and a long line of drool soaking his pillow. He very softly snored, but not enough to keep anyone else from sleeping.

     That, apparently, was little Markie’s job.

     “Honey, if Mommy lets you snuggle and sleep with her tonight, can we figure out what to do about your bed tomorrow?”

     “Okay, deal. And can we put a ‘Monsters Go Away’ sign on my bedroom door, just in case they accidentally get in?”

     “Okay, deal.”

     He snuggled against Hannah’s bosom and put his arm around her. Or at least as far as it would reach. She held him close.

     But before she drifted back to sleep, her curiosity got the best of her.

     “Markie?”

     “Yes, Mommy?”

     “How come every time you get scared, you always wake me up instead of your daddy?”

     “Because you’re softer.”

Chapter 2

     Mark woke up before the alarm went off, and for a brief moment panicked when he didn’t recognize his surroundings.

     Then he remembered they’d moved from the mine into the compound, and felt foolish. He’d make a point not to tell Hannah. She loved to make fun of him. And he did plenty of dumb things over the course of the day to give her reason to giggle. No sense in volunteering more.

     Hannah was still sound asleep. So was Markie, lying sideways on the big bed with his feet resting on Hannah’s head. Mark noted that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

     He very quietly took his digital camera out of the dresser drawer where he’d placed it the previous day. He made sure the flash was off, and checked the light sensor, hoping there was enough existing light in the room to take a photo. There was, so he snapped two. One from far away, to capture the whole scene. Another close up, capturing Markie’s little feet atop Hannah’s tangled hair.

     She’d hate the photo, as she hated every photo of her with less than perfect hair.

     But these photos weren’t for Hannah. They were for Markie, and he would love it. When he eventually saw it. But it wouldn’t be for awhile.

     Starting when Markie was a baby, just a couple of days old, Hannah had a brilliant idea.

     “Let’s take photos of him, throughout his childhood. We’ll show some of them to him occasionally. But we’ll keep most of them, the best ones, a secret. And on his eighteenth birthday, to celebrate his growing up and becoming a man, we can present them to him. Can you imagine how cool it will be for him to relive his entire childhood, all at once?”

     Hannah always had the best ideas.

     He was reminded for the thousandth time how lucky he was to have her.

     He placed the camera back in the drawer and carefully leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. Then he gathered some clothes and stepped into the shower.

     For so long he’d had to take three minute showers to conserve water. In the mine, he turned the water on for only a few seconds, to wet his body and hair. Then he took his time lathering his body and shampooing his hair before turning the water back on and spending a couple of minutes rinsing it back off again.

     It was such a habit that he caught himself reaching for the handle to turn the water off as soon as he was wet.

     Then he remembered that part of his life was behind him now.

     “Screw that,” he said to himself. And he stood with his back to the shower for a full ten minutes, letting the hot water wash over his shoulders and down his back.

     He was going to like these new accommodations.

     When he stepped out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, Hannah and Markie were still sound asleep. Markie had rolled over and was on his stomach now, but his feet still maintained their positions atop his beauty’s head.

     He smiled and shook his head, then walked out the door.

Chapter 3

     Mark passed the security control center on his way to the kitchen for breakfast. John was already hard at work, watching all the monitors, trying to determine if there were any blind spots they didn’t cover that would allow marauders to sneak up on them.

     John was a Dallas cop for many years, and the logical choice to be their chief of security. He took the job seriously. It was a given that he’d do everything in his power to keep the unwanted and unwelcome out of the compound. And that if someone did break in, he’d be their first line of defense. He’d gladly give his life to save any of the others. No one wanted that to happen, of course. But just knowing it was enough for the others to appreciate his efforts. He was therefore easily the most beloved man in the compound. The ladies went out of their way to bake him cookies and to give him extra big portions of his favorite food. The men let him beat them at pool and at cards. John thought he was the best pool player in the group. But everyone other than him knew the truth.

     John asked Mark, “I know there’s a thousand and one things to do today. Are you going to address the group?”

     “I thought I would, but only for a moment. Just long enough to ask them to carry on the same duties they had in the mine. At least for the time being. It’ll be a lot easier that way, knowing that I don’t have to wonder whether the cattle are being fed and such.”

     “Robbie already asked me what he’s going to do now that he no longer has to work in the water plant, collecting and recycling water. Have you given any thought to that?”

     “Yes. We’ll have several people who will fall into that category. The three guys in the water plant. The three in the power plant. I thought we’d ask them to become farm hands, or to help Karen in the greenhouse. We’re also likely to need more help with the livestock, as the herds start to grow.”

     “Good idea. That’ll make Robbie happy. I got the impression he was bored because he didn’t have to go stir the water pools first thing this morning.”

     “Yeah. Old habits do die hard, don’t they?”

     Mark walked over to the dining room, and was greeted by smiles and the sweet smell of bacon wafting over from the adjacent kitchen. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. A couple of them complimented Mark on the job they’d done designing the facility.

     “Oh, trust me,” he said. “Hannah made all the key design decisions. I just made sure her wishes got done. But you’re right. She did a really great job.”

     He looked around and saw that a few were missing besides Hannah and Markie. That was okay. They deserved to sleep in after all they’d endured in previous years.

     “Can I have everyone’s attention, just for a couple of minutes? I know everybody is anxious to finish unpacking and getting settled in. I’ll keep it short. But I understand that some of you who no longer have chores are looking forward to getting some.”

     “I’m going to make some notes on the whiteboard behind you. Basically, we’re looking for two people to help Karen in the greenhouses. As you know, there are two of them and they’re pretty good sized. Karen used to grow just enough plants in her tiny greenhouse to keep her seeds fresh from year to year. She was able to do that by working only a couple of hours a day. Now she’s going to be growing a good portion of our food supply, and she’s going to need two full time helpers. I’ll make a request for two greenhouse workers on the white board. Please think it over, and if it’s something you’d like to do, please write your name down.”

     “We’re also going to need farm hands. In the back of the feed barn, before the meteorite hit, we stashed two fifty pounds sacks of corn, one fifty pound sack of raw sorghum, and one fifty pound sack of wheat kernels. We don’t know if the seeds are any good after all this time, but since they were in the shade even when the temperatures went above freezing, we’re hoping the cold helped them survive.

     “In any event, we’re going to plant them once we hit twenty straight days above fifty degrees and hope for the best.

     “If they don’t grow, all is not lost. We’ll still plant the seeds that Karen produced in her greenhouse last year. But if Karen’s seeds are the only ones that grow, we’ll have to save her entire yield so we can plant a much larger crop next year. Either way, there will be a lot of work to do in the fields the next few months. So we’ll need three bodies for that. Again, I’ll make a note on the white board that we’re looking for three farm hands. If you’re interested, please write your name up there.

     “The only other thing I have for you is a request. We’re pretty sure that Brad and Bryan made all the repairs to the apartments over the past couple of weeks. But in case they missed anything, please let us know so we can make repairs quickly. We want to stay on top of things like leaky faucets and electrical issues so that little problems don’t turn into bigger ones.

     “Does anyone else have anything to share with the group?”

     No one did.

     “Okay. Thanks for your attention. Have a great day.”

Chapter 4

     Mark had breakfast and then walked back over to the security station to talk to John again.

     John was still watching the monitors, while at the same time setting up a new ham radio.

     “I’m going to start scanning the airwaves while I’m sitting here. See how many people are left alive out there. I might be able to get a reading on what life is like in San Antonio and San Angelo. Find out if the survivors are friendly or hostile.”

     “It seems I read somewhere that it’s possible to determine somebody’s location by listening to their radio waves. Is that true?”

     “Triangulation. It’s a lost art. Back during World War Two that’s how they got a fix on enemy ships and troop concentrations. But it’s not that easy. It requires three radios, working in concert with each other. Each radio determines which direction a transmission is coming from and the approximate distance, based on the signal’s strength. All three of them do that, and the point at which the three estimations line up, that’s the general area where the transmission is coming from.”

     “How accurate is it?”

     “Oh, it’ll get you in the ballpark, but you still have to do some searching to find the exact spot. And in any event, that’s not something we should have to worry about.”

     “How come?”

     “Well, for one thing, we won’t be transmitting. At least not often. For someone to track us, we’d have to be putting out a prolonged signal. We’ll be listening ninety nine percent of the time, just monitoring the transmissions of others to try to get a feel for what’s going on out there. At least until we’re sure it’s friendly.

     “If we do talk, it’ll be in occasional short bursts, just to ask a question or make a brief comment. But we won’t be on long enough for anybody to get a fix on us.

     “And besides, nobody will have any reason to think we’ve got anything they want. We’ll never mention that we have livestock, or crops, or anything else that might attract the wrong kind of attention. As far as anyone else is concerned, we’ll be just another Joe Schmo with a ham radio in his garage, trying to make new friends. Even if they did have the capability to track us, they’d have no reason to.

     “We’re going to log all the intel we get from the ham radio into a special log book. It’ll be here on the desk any time you guys, or anybody else, want to take a look at it. Over the course of a few weeks, or months, it should give us a pretty good idea of what it’s like out there, both locally and around the rest of the world too.

     “It should make for some interesting reading. What’s on your agenda for today?”

     “That’s why I came to talk to you, John. Bryan and I want to go outside the compound. I want to know how big of a problem that’s going to be, security wise.”

     “I don’t think it’ll be too big a problem. I still haven’t seen any signs of life out there. Why are you going out?”

     Mark pointed to one of the monitors, on the outside corner of the compound.

     “See how the perimeter fence is surrounded by two hundred feet of white gravel?”

     “Yes, I noticed that. It reminds me of a prison.”

     “Well, it’s sort of the same concept, in reverse. At a prison they make it that way so they can easily see people sneaking out. Here, we want to easily see people trying to sneak in. But it’s the same idea, really.

     “The problem is, see how weeds and shrubs have sprung up in the area over the time we were in the mine?”

     “Yes.”

     “Well, they’re not bad yet, because there haven’t been that many warm days for them to grow over the last couple of years. But we want to get a handle on it before it gets out of hand. We stocked some herbicide in barn number two, mostly for the crops. But we’re going to spray all the weeds before they grow even larger. We don’t want them to get so big that a man can hide behind them.”

     “How long do you figure it’ll take?”

     “I don’t know. A couple of hours, I’m guessing. And we’ll probably have to do it two or three times a season, from now on.”

     “No problem. Brad’s a good shot. We’ll position him in the hunting blinds on the roof. He’ll be able to provide cover for you no matter which side of the compound you’re on. Put fresh batteries in your radios and keep them on channel five. We’ll keep a close watch on the monitors, and if we see anything worrisome you can scramble back in. I’ll find another volunteer to man the gate, so they can let you in quickly. What time are you going out?”

     “As soon as you can get everything set up.”

     “Okay. Give me an hour.”

     “Good morning, you sexy man, you.”

     The men turned around to see Hannah standing there, with Markie by her side.

     John couldn’t resist the temptation. He said, “Well, thank you for the compliment, Sweetheart. You’re not so bad yourself.”

     He winked at her and she laughed.

     She looked at Mark and asked if he had breakfast yet.

     “Yep. Now I’m off to the races. Got lots to do today.”

     “Well, can I at least have a kiss first?”

     He took her aside and gave her one.

     “More of those later if you want. Right now I hear weeds calling my name. Enjoy your breakfast. I love you.”

     She knew him well enough not to ask about the weeds. “I love you too, honey.”

     He tussled little Markie’s hair and said “Take good care of your mommy, son, and keep her away from that big bad wolf.”

     He pointed a thumb at John. Markie didn’t have a clue what his dad meant. But Hannah and John both laughed so Markie did too.

     And with that, Mark was off for the first of several projects on his “to do” list for the day.

Chapter 5

     “Nope. This one’s dead too. Damnit!”

     Frank Woodard and Jesse Martinez had crawled into every car and truck on Buena Vista Drive in north San Antonio, trying to find one that would start after six and a half long years. But they were out of luck. Time had taken its toll on the batteries, and every single one of them was shot.

     They were hoping to find just one that still worked. If they’d found one, they could have used it to jump start the others, so they could determine which batteries could be tossed and which ones could still be used.

     But there was another way.

     Frank said, “My generator has battery terminals built into the side. We’ll have to lug it out here, but it should do the trick.”

     “Won’t Eva miss it while it’s gone?”

     “Hell, you know Eva. She’s a trooper, not a complainer. She volunteered to come out here and help us, remember?”

     “I know, Frank. Don’t be so damn touchy. I was just teasin’.”

     “Sorry. I expected to get several of these cars running by now. I’m just irritated, that’s all.

     “Oh, I forgot, have you checked on Joe yet today?”

     “Yeah, I was over there a little bit ago. He also wanted to come and help, but I told him to give that back of his another day or two. He’s no good to us with a bad back. Besides, he’s in so much pain it hurt me just to look at him.”

     “Well, it hurts me to look at you but I still do it.”

     “Ha, ha. Let’s go get your generator and get this done.”

     Jesse had two sons, eighteen and nineteen years old. Both of them were athletes before the meteorite hit the earth and turned the world cold for six and a half years. They weren’t in the best shape any more, though. None of them were, after having to minimize their food intake for all those years.

    But the sons were still the strongest men on the block, because of their youth.

     Normally, Jesse would have asked Bobby and Mike to lug the heavy generator out of Frank’s garage. But what they were doing was equally important. Maybe more so. So Jesse let them be, even as he and Frank struggled getting the generator from the garage to the street.

     “Damn, Frank. You should have bought a generator with wheels.”

     “Yeah. Well, I’ll try to remember that the next time I stroll into Walmart to order one. Let me know if you need to stop and rest, you big sissy, and we’ll put it down for a minute.”

     Jesse laughed. He couldn’t think of a suitable comeback, so he just let it go.

     Jesse and Frank were just casual friends when the disaster hit. But they’d been through a lot together in recent years. Gathering food, burying bodies, protecting the houses on their block from predators. They’d discovered a food distribution warehouse not far from the block that was somehow left unscathed when the rioting and pillaging took place, and made hundreds of trips there and back, lugging a few cases of food at a time to keep the families fed.

     Counting the two of them, there were only fourteen people alive on the block now. One couple came over to join them from the adjacent block. They were the only survivors, and were scared and vulnerable. So they were invited to move into one of the houses left vacant when many of the others evacuated the city. Evacuated the city headed for warmer climates and never were heard from again.

     Frank hoped that some of them made it, although he doubted so.

     News reports just before and after the meteorite hit told of traffic jams two hundred miles long on every highway headed out of the country. Mexico had closed its borders, because it couldn’t deal with its own people. Much less millions of refugees. Most of the refugees lived their last days in their cars because they had no place else to go.

     First they ran out of food and water. Then hope. Most ended their own lives, and would be entombed in their cars forever.

     Frank and Jesse’s plan was to remove most of the cars and park them on the adjacent block, where there were no survivors. Mainly just to get them out of the way. They’d keep a couple of them, though. They could use Jesse’s pickup, and another F-150 down the street, to make food runs at the Symco warehouse half a mile away. And the ones blocking the open end of their dead end street would remain in place, to let marauders know they weren’t welcome.

     But most of the cars were just taking up space. And they’d have to go.

     They got the generator to Frank’s Chevy Malibu, parked in front of his house. He remembered loving that car so much he’d spend hours polishing it on the weekends. Now it was just another piece of junk.

     They cranked the generator back up and used the jumper cables to connect it to the battery.

     “Let’s let it run for a few minutes and go check on the boys.”

     The pair walked three houses down, where Bobby and Mike were digging around the stump of a huge oak tree.

     The tree itself was laying in the street, having been felled with Tony Pena’s chain saw. As Jesse’s boys dug out the stump, Tony was busy cutting the tree into small pieces that could be used as fireplace logs. His wife Sally and son Mike were gathering the wood in two wheelbarrows, then stacking it on the front porches of every occupied house on the block. Since the power company had gone down, firewood was the only source of fuel for heating and cooking.

     Jesse asked, “How are you guys coming?”

     “Well, put it this way. I’m glad we started with the biggest tree first. After we finally get this sucker out of the ground, the rest should be a piece of cake.”

     “What’s your game plan?”

     “Well, it’s funny you should ask that, because we needed to talk to you about it anyway. We took a count, and there are three vehicles on the block that have trailer hitches. That red F-150, your truck, and an Explorer. We’d like for you to leave those three behind until last. Until we get all the trees off the block. We’re going to tie ropes from the stump to all three of the trailer hitches and pull them, all at the same time. We’re hoping that’s enough power to pull the stumps out of the ground and into the street.

     “Once we have all the stumps in the street, we’ll push them up against the curbs, so they’re more or less out of the way. And we’ll just leave them there for a few months, until we’ve had enough rainstorms to wash most of the dirt off the root systems. That way Tony can come back with his chain saw and cut them into pieces without the dirt gumming up his blade.

     “How’s the vehicle moving project coming?”

     “Well, not worth a damn, yet. But we’re getting ready to jump start the first one, and then the rest should be a piece of cake. We’ll have them all out of here by late this afternoon, except for the three you want to use.”

     “Are y’all still planning on making a supply run?”

     “Yes, but we’ll hold off until tomorrow. We weren’t expecting the cars to give us this much trouble, and we don’t want to head out so late that we’ll be caught after dark. Just because we haven’t heard any gunshots lately doesn’t mean there aren’t still marauders out there.”

     Tony took a break from cutting up the tree and walked up behind them.

     “Hey, Tony, how you doin’?”

     “Fine, Frank. You guys still going to Home Depot?”

     “Yes. We were just saying we’re heading that way in the morning, to stock up on rain gutters and garbage cans. And to see if they have any seeds, just in case the ones we got from Walmart don’t work. What do you need?”

     “A second chain saw. Mine’s still working fine, but Sally could run one too if we had a second one. And with twenty four trees to cut down and then cut into pieces, we’re likely to wear at least one of them out.”

     Bobby’s jaw dropped.

     “Twenty four trees? Hell, we haven’t even got the first one finished yet. Are you sure?”

     “Yep. I counted them this morning. Of course, that includes the ones in the back yards too. But I figure we might as well make use of the growing space. Plant corn in the front yards, and wheat and other stuff in the back yards. The marauders are more likely to steal tomatoes and melons, I’m guessing, than they are to steal ears of corn. And if that stuff is in the back yards, it’ll be out of sight and easier to protect.

     “And speaking of wheat, Walmart didn’t have any wheat seeds, remember. But Home Depot carries it. Or at least they used to. Sally used to be on a kick where she grew her own grains, before the world went to shit. Would you look for wheat seeds specifically? It’ll make a great second subsistence crop.”

     “Sure, Tony. And by the way, whenever you guys get tired of digging and cutting up trees, say the word. We’ll swap off with you for awhile.”

     “Forget it, Frank. We don’t want you two old timers to have heart attacks on us. Just finish your own projects, and then you can sit in your rocking chairs and watch us young guys do the hard stuff.”

     Jesse laughed.

     “Well, hell, a rocking chair don’t do any good unless you have a shade tree to sit under. How about leaving us one tree to sit under while we watch you young bucks wear yourselves out? That way we can make fun of you when you fall to the ground with your tongues hanging out because it’s more work than you’re used to.”

     He turned to Frank and offered a high five.

     Frank took it and added, “Then us old timers can step in and finish the job for you and you can all say ‘Day-um! Those old guys got game!’”

     “Yeah, right, vato. We’ll see about that.”

     Jesse and Frank went back to the Malibu. Frank gave it some gas, crossed his fingers and turned the ignition. It fired right up, sputtered a bit, and then ran. A little rough, but not too bad after a six and a half year nap.

     “All right! Now we’re in business!”

Chapter 6

     Marty Hankins and the others were sitting around a campfire in a field adjacent to the Trucker’s Paradise truck stop on I-10 in Junction. For several years they’d huddled together in an encampment made by a bunch of abandoned trailers backed together to form a protective barrier around them. The trailers had been full of food and supplies. Their camaraderie and mutual support had helped them through the hard times, and the hope of better things to come had kept them going.

     But their time together was coming to an end. The previous spring and summer the snow and ice had melted completely. It had come back in the fall and winter, of course. But the small group knew that this year would see even more moderate weather. The world was getting back to the way it used to be, and there was no longer a need to stay here.

     “I don’t know,” Joe Koslowski said. “I guess Tina and I will head back east. Back to North Carolina, where we would have gone if we hadn’t gotten stuck so far from home.”

     “Do you think any of your family survived?”

     “I don’t know. I’d like to think so. Only time will tell, I guess.”

     “How will you survive?”

     “Hell, we’ll go through all those dropped trailers on the highway until we find a good one. One that’s full of dry stock and stuff that hasn’t gone bad. We’ll latch onto it and drag it back to Goldsboro. I don’t reckon Walmart will miss it none. Hell, I doubt if Walmart’s even in business anymore.”

     Tina laughed.

     “What’s that old fable, about the Greek guy who comes back from war bearing gifts? That’ll be us. Pulling into the yard back home, with a big ass Walmart trailer saying ‘here we are. We’ve been through hell and we’re bringing back gifts.’ And hoping like heck someone is still alive to greet us.”

     “What about fuel to get you there?”

     “I don’t reckon that’ll be a problem. If the I-10 next to the truck stop is any indication, there’s likely abandoned rigs all the way east. We’ll just siphon the diesel we need from them. What about you, Marty? What are you gonna do?”

     “Well, I’ve got no family to go home to. Heck, I haven’t even had a home in so long I wouldn’t be able to find it if I tried. I’m a modern day gypsy. Was before the sky went dark, and that hasn’t changed.

     “This may sound strange, but I’ve actually gotten comfortable here. I’ve made good friends with the folks at the Bennett farm. They’ve treated me at least as good as the family I used to have.

     “And Lenny wants to stay here and get the truck stop running again. I think I’ll help him.”

     “Seriously? What do you two know about running a truck stop?”

     “Don’t have to know much about running it the old way. We’ll run it our own way. Ain’t that right, Lenny?”

     Lenny had just crawled out of the empty trailer he’d modified into a home and was pouring himself some campfire coffee.

     He chuckled and said, “Damn right. And it’ll be like no other truck stop in the world. Everything will be free. Heck, I don’t expect money’s worth anything anymore anyway. I think it’s just a matter of everybody fending for themselves and struggling to stay alive.”

     Tina was puzzled.

     “What do you mean, everything’s going to be free?”

     “Sure. There are over two hundred abandoned trailers in the yard and in the field behind it. One of them’s a flatbed with two huge ten kilowatt generators on the back. One of ‘em will be plenty big to provide power for the truck stop. We can haul the diesel tankers over to the pumps to refill the underground tanks, and restock the shelves with the stuff from the Walmart and other trailers.

     “Any time anybody comes by we’ll tell ‘em to help themselves, if they have no money. If they do have money, we’ll ask them to make a donation in a jar.”

     Marty added, “We don’t know if money will ever be any good again. But if it is, Lenny and I will use the money in the jar to reimburse us for our troubles. If it isn’t, I guess we’ll just live out our lives eating Ramen noodles off the back of trucks.”

     He laughed, but Tina couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

     “Well, I’ll talk to Mason Bennett before Joe and I head out. I’ll tell them you’ve both lost all your marbles and to watch over you both, because you’ll definitely need keepers.”

     “When are y’all headed out?”

     “We’re thinking that today we’ll go find a good trailer to take with us. Make sure it’s still in good shape. And I want to take a couple of air lines and batteries off some of the other rigs to keep ours going if it breaks down. Then we’ll set out early the day after tomorrow, if the weather is cooperating. No sense setting out if it’s rainy or icy. Been here this long, might as well wait for good weather.”

     Tina said, “And we want to spend a little time with the Bennetts too before we leave. In fact, Joe and I are headed over there after we finish our coffee, to hang out for a bit and to say goodbye. Do you guys want to come along?”

     Lenny said, “Sure, why not?”

     Tina looked at Marty.

     “No, I’ll pass. Sarah and the girls will be all emotional about y’all leaving. And I never liked seeing dames cry.”

     “Dames, huh? What a silver tongued devil you are.”

     “Hey, as one of my favorite philosophers once said, ‘I yam what I yam.’”

     “I know, and then he ate his spinach and was strong to the finish, right?”

     “Yeah. Something like that.”

     Tina got up and stretched.

     “Lenny, do you think you can use the yard tractor and pull two of these trailers out of the way today, so we can get our rig out of here?”

     “I reckon so. The brake lines are probably rotted after all this time, but I can drag ‘em out of the way if I need to.”

     Marty dumped the rest of his coffee into the campfire and walked over to the truck stop.

Chapter 7

     John sat at the new security control center and called Brad from the base station.

     “Brad, this is John. You got your radio turned on this morning, or did you forget again?”

     Silence.

     He tried again.

     “Brad, this is John. Come in.”

     “Go ahead, John. I just… had my hands full.”

     But John could hear Sami laughing in the background.

     Sami came on and said, “Don’t believe him, Dad. His radio was off. He heard you calling on mine.”

     John heard Brad, in the skewed falsetto voice of a twelve year old boy, say “tattle-tale.”

     John said, “Brad, what are we going to do with you?”

     “Nothing, John. Living with your daughter is punishment enough.”

     John smiled but let the comment slide. Sami was a handful, all right. Always had been, even as a little girl.

     “Brad, Mark and Bryan are going out this morning for a couple of hours. Can you give them cover from the roof?”

     “Sure. Not a problem. I’ve been wanting to check out those blinds up there anyway. When are they heading out?”

     “In about forty five minutes or so.”

     “Ten four. I’ll come and see you as soon as I tie Sami up and leave her outside for the vultures.”

     John caught Rusty’s eye as he walked past the security console. Rusty was only fourteen, David’s oldest boy. But he was always volunteering to help out where he could, trying to prove he was more than just a kid.

     “Hey, Buddy! What are you up to this morning?”

     “Oh, nothing. Just looking around the new place. I think we’re going to like it here. Can anybody use the pool tables over there? Or are they reserved for just the ‘adults?’”

     He made air quotation marks with his fingers.

     “Oh, they’re for everybody. Warm yourself up a few games, and when I get relieved in a little bit I’ll play a few games of eight ball with you.”

     “Cool. But eight ball’s for amateurs. How about nine ball?”

     “Doesn’t matter the game, son. You’re going down either way. But hey, you want to help us out in the meantime?”

     “Sure. How?”

     “Mark and Bryan are going outside the wall this morning to do a little gardening. I need somebody to let them out, and then to man the gate in case we see something out there and have to tell them to come in quick. Can you man the gate for us?”

     “Okay. Do I get to carry a radio?”

     “Yes, but not to play with. You’ll have to stay off of it so you can hear me if I yell for you to open the gate for them.”

     “Can I carry a gun?”

     “Now, Rusty, we’ve had this conversation before. Your mom and dad don’t want you to carry a loaded firearm until I’ve had a chance to train you. And I told you I’d give you some training for your fifteenth birthday. Remember?”

     “They said I was almost ready. How about if I carry an unloaded gun today? Just so I can get the feel of it?”

     John rolled his eyes and considered looking for someone else to man the gate for him. But Rusty was the only person he’d seen this morning who didn’t look busy, trying to settle in to the new place.

     “I’ll tell you what,” he said, handing Rusty a radio. “Go ask your parents if it’s okay for you to carry an empty gun. If it’s okay with them, have them call me. But if you take one, you’ll have to leave it in your holster. Empty or not, it’s not a toy, and should never be treated as one. Fair enough?”

     “Sure.”

     Rusty ran off, but the radio remained silent, as John knew it would.

     Rusty came back a few minutes later, looking dejected.

     “Dad said no, not until you train me and I’m mature enough to know men don’t carry guns for the fun of it.”

     John smiled. He almost could have predicted the exact words David was going to share with his son. David and John were on the same sheet of music when it came to weapons safety.

     Brad walked up to draw out an AR-15 rifle and a web belt containing four magazines from the gun locker.

     He took the rifle from the locker, checked it again to make sure it was clear, and then slung it over his shoulder.

     “I’ll call you when I’m on the roof.”

     Rusty took his radio and headed outside to the gate, sulking every step of the way.

     John called behind him.

     “Don’t forget to wear a mask and gloves.”

     “Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

     Because of the thousands of decaying bodies outside the compound, of humans, livestock and wild animals, the group was worried about airborne diseases. It was probably overkill, but they decided to mandate the wear of surgical masks and latex gloves while outdoors, at least during the warm weather months when such issues were more likely.

     Nobody liked the whole idea of masking up to go outside. But they did it anyway. If for no other reason, to avoid hearing people like John nag them about it.

     Five minutes later Brad called in.

     “John, this is Brad. I’m in position.”

     “10-4. Mark or Bryan, this is John. Come in.”

     “Go ahead, John.”

     “Mark, your cover’s in place and so is your gate monitor. You guys about ready?”

     “Yep. We’re heading for the gate now. Thanks, John.”

     “You bet. You guys be careful out there.”

Chapter 8

     Hannah and Markie walked down a flight of stairs to the basement and to the room they’d designated for their resupply center. She needed some bubble bath for Markie. He’d never had one, because he never had a bathtub before now. But she remembered that they had stocked some Mr. Bubble, knowing they’d be able to use it once they broke out of the mine.

     Now all she had to do was find it.

     “Hi, Sarah. Hi, Sami.”

     “Hello, sleepy head.”

     “Hey, it wasn’t my fault. Somebody woke me up in the middle of the night because he was afraid of monsters getting into his bed.”

     Sarah looked shocked.

     “Seriously?”

     “Yep. Took me forever to get back to sleep.”

     Sarah looked at little Markie and said, “Markie!”

     “Uh, huh?”

     “You tell your Daddy there are no such things as monsters, and to quit waking up your Mommy.”

     Markie giggled for just a moment, before a toy grabbed his attention and he went off to play.

     Hannah looked around and commented, “What a mess.”

     “Yes, and this isn’t even all of it. There are thirty or forty boxes still in the mine that they didn’t have room in the truck for. Brad was going to help us put the racks together, and then he was going to put the rest of the stuff on a hand truck and roll it through the tunnel a few boxes at a time. But then he went off to help the other boys, as usual.”

     “Are the lights still on in the mine?”

     “Yes. Bryan’s going to leave them on until we get everything out, and then he’s going to switch it to emergency power, with just a few lights on for evacuation purposes.”

     “Well, let’s get the racks put together and then you guys can start putting things on them while I go back for the rest of the stuff. Do you know how the racks go together?”

     “Oh, yeah. They just snap together. We could have done it ourselves, but I like watching Brad work when he’s wearing a tight t-shirt and I can see all of his muscles flexing.”

     Hannah rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, brother.”

     Then she looked over at her son.

     “Markie, honey, you stay over there and behave yourself, and don’t get into things while we’re working, okay?”

     “Okay, Mommy.”

     “Hey, keep an eye out for the Mr. Bubble, will you?”

     Karen, the resident artist and plant expert, called out from the hallway, where she was painting “Welcome to Walmart” on the door. It was an inside joke, owing to the fact that nearly everything they’d purchased for their resupply center came from the big blue retailer.

     “The Mr. Bubble is in one of the big blue plastic containers where we keep our long term storage stuff. I took it off the shelf in the mine because it was taking up space, and nobody used it because we had no bath tubs.”

     “Thank you, Karen. Do you remember which blue tub you put it in?”

     Karen chuckled.

     “No clue. But there are only sixty of them, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

     “Thanks a lot. I owe you one.”

     She went to the hallway to check out Karen’s sign.

     “Nice sign, but doesn’t Walmart only have one ‘l’?”

     Karen looked up at her work in mild panic, and was very relieved to see that she had indeed spelled it correctly.

     “Ha! Made you look. Now we’re even for you hiding the Mr. Bubble on me.”

     Karen smiled.

     “Hey, are you going to need any help in the greenhouses today?”

     “I don’t know. I’m going over there after I finish here. Mark said he found two volunteers to help me. He wouldn’t tell me who they were, but they’re supposed to meet me there at ten. You’re welcome to come over, though. The more the merrier.”

     “Okay, I’ll work here until I get tired of looking at Sarah, or get tired of Sami’s dumb jokes. Then I’ll come over and help.”

     A large sponge went sailing past Hannah’s head, but she didn’t know where it came from. By the time she turned around, both Sarah and Sami were both hard at work, as though they hadn’t heard a word.

     It was going to be a fun morning.

Chapter 9

     “Nope. Hold on, it’s not budging. We need to dig some more!”

     Frank gave a signal by waving his hand across his throat to tell Jesse, Bobby and Mike to stop pulling. Each of them was in a different vehicle, trying to pull over the stump of an oak tree that had been gracing Widow Spencer’s front lawn for over twenty years.

      And all three vehicles together were having a tough time toppling the stump.

     The group reassembled at the stump to talk strategy.

     “I think we made a mistake by not pulling it over first,” Bobby suggested.

     His brother wasn’t so sure.

     “Why do you say that?”

     “Because we no longer have any leverage. All three of the ropes go around the trunk two feet off the ground. What we’re essentially trying to do is pull it sideways. And it doesn’t want to go sideways.”

     So how should we have done it?

     “We should have climbed up the tree instead of cutting it down. And tied the ropes around the trunk ten or twelve feet above the ground. Then the leverage would have been on our side, and we could have pulled the whole thing over. And then cut it to pieces, after it was laying in the street.”

     “Okay, so we’ll try your theory on the next tree. But meanwhile, what in hell do we do about this one?”

     “We have no choice. We dig some more. And we use hand saws to cut some more of the roots. Sooner or later we’ll get it. It’s just a matter of how much crap we have to dig through before it breaks free.”

     “I hope not too much more. I’m already tired of digging, and we haven’t even started digging up the yards yet.”

     Frank said, “The package on the corn said not to plant it until we had two straight weeks above fifty degrees. We’ve only had seven so far. So we’ve got another week at least before we can plant. More if the temperature drops again.

     “Why don’t we get this sucker out of the ground, and one more next door. That’ll give Tony a whole tree to cut up, which will take him at least two days. While he’s doing that, we’ll focus on getting the first two yards dug up. Then once we hit the fourteen day mark, the women will have a place to start planting while we move on to the rest of the trees.”

     “Works for me.”

     Tony volunteered, “And just for the record, I’ll be happy to take my turn at digging. I’m getting just as tired of the chain saw as you guys are from the shoveling.”

     “You’re on!” Bobby said, while handing Tony his shovel. “I’d rather use a chain saw any day.”

     “Yeah, you say that now. In four hours, when your forearms go numb from the vibration and your back starts to break, you’ll be begging to give it back.”

     Tony and Mike spent another two hours digging completely around the stump. It was a dirty, nasty job. Especially when they had to get down on their hands and knees and reach down into the hole to saw off a root.

     Finally, they declared it time to try again. The three of them got back in the vehicles, pulled the ropes taut, and then floored it.

     The stump came out with ease this time, and laid in the street like a dead soldier who’d finally met his fate.

     The brothers, Bobby and Mike, high fived each other. Bobby then turned to Tony and said, “As much as I hate to admit it, you were right about the chain saw. I didn’t realize how heavy it would be after a couple of hours. Whenever you get tired of digging, I’ll switch back out with you.

     Tony Pena smiled.

     “You’re much too soft, young whippersnapper. I’ll take it off your hands for the rest of the day. Tomorrow you can take it back for a bit. Build up your stamina a little bit at a time. Maybe using it’ll make a man out of you.”

     Mike countered, “That’ll never happen. He’s been a big sissy all his life. He’ll always be a sissy.”

     “Shut up, you big jerk. I’ll show you big sissy.”

     The brothers were grown up now, but still liked the banter of their youth. In a cruel and chaotic world, it somehow made them feel a little more normal when they battled. So many things had changed in the world in recent years, but one constant they’d enjoyed since their childhood was the joy they derived from giving each other grief. And it was all in fun, every bit of it. For they were as close as two brothers possibly could be. No damn meteorite could take that away from them.

     Now that the tree was out of the way, Bobby and Mike began digging up the front yard of Widow Spencer’s home as she sat in a rocking chair on her porch, cat in her lap, and watched them.

     Other men might have taken offense at her presence on the porch, or might have insisted that she do something… anything, to help them.

     But these were good boys, raised proper. Their parents had seen to that. They were respectful and helpful to their neighbors. They knew that Widow Spencer was all alone since her husband had died the year before Saris 7 hit. Most of her relatives were dead and those who weren’t lived way up north somewhere. She and Walter never had any children. So now it was just her and her cats, and she was old and frail and just a tad bit senile.

     She would never have survived on her own for those six long years. Not if the Pena family hadn’t stepped in to care for her. Actually, it was the boys’ idea. They looked in on her daily, and brought her food. Even scrounged the abandoned houses in the neighborhood for cat food for her tabby Monica and her calico Chelsea.

     Their own grandmothers had died years before, and Widow Spencer took on that role. So it was therapeutic for all of them.

     They started at one end of the front yard, where it connected with the driveway of the adjacent house. And they took their shovels and dug down ten inches, turning each shovel full of dirt. Then they took the sharp shovels and broke up the dirt to make it looser, so it would be easier to rake through and pull out as much of the grass and roots as they could.

     They planned to turn the dirt and repeat the process at least twice more. It would be a tedious process, and they weren’t looking forward to it.

     They stopped to take a break.

     “This is gonna take forever.”

     “No joke.”

     But they had a surprise coming around the corner at the end of the block. It was Jesse, and their neighbor Joe, returning from a run to the local Home Depot. In the back of their pickup was another load of rain gutter and fifty gallon garbage cans.

     And a very large box that said “Garden Tiller” on the side.

     “Woo-hoo!” Mike yelled. Then he looked at his brother. The look on his face said, “Why didn’t we think of that?”

     Joe backed the truck into Widow Spencer’s driveway and the boys took the tiller off the back. Within an hour they had it assembled and running. Within another hour they’d worked their way halfway through the front yard.

     Joe, Jesse and Frank, meanwhile, picked up their own project where they’d left off the day before when they ran out of gutter parts. They were installing gutters on every house on the block. On every side of the house. And on each corner of every house, they were installing a rain spout that would pour water directly into a fifty gallon trash can.

    Their logic was sound. San Antonio got heavy rains an average of fifteen times a year. They planned to capture as much of these rains as possible, by removing the lids on the trash cans on rainy days, and letting the water running off the roof fill them up. Then they’d replace the lids so it didn’t evaporate.

     This probably wouldn’t provide all the water they’d need to irrigate their crops. But it would certainly make a big dent. And it would greatly reduce the number of times they’d have to drive the pickup to the playa lake several blocks away to fill up water containers.

     If all went well, by the end of the summer they’d have enough wheat and corn stored to help them survive the winter. Some of it would be dry. Some of it would be canned. But all of it would be a welcome addition to the food they were bringing home from the Symco warehouse.

     Life definitely wasn’t good. Not by a long shot. But it was much better than it had been in awhile.

Chapter 10

     At the Trucker’s Paradise Truck Stop, Marty Hankins had his own project that was keeping him busy.

     One by one, Lenny hooked up to a trailer full of food and other merchandise and towed it over to the front doors of the main building. Then the two of them worked together to go through each pallet of goods and determine what to take inside and place on the shelves.

     It was funny. Marty had never pictured himself as a shopkeeper or a grocer. He’d never pictured himself as anything other than a long haul trucker.

     But those days were obviously over forever. It would probably be years before any company got organized enough to start manufacturing things again. Heck, Marty didn’t even expect city governments to be back on line for awhile. And he couldn’t even fathom how long it would be before law enforcement started enforcing laws again, and money became worth something again.

     He wasn’t even sure how many people were left out there. After they got the generator going and the buildings had power again, they’d turned on John’s old ham radio. There wasn’t a lot of traffic, and most of it was from places far away. But they did talk to several people in nearby San Antonio who said there were still survivors in pockets here and there.

     John was the truck stop manager who’d closed the place down just before Saris 7 struck the earth. He was the one who tossed Marty the keys and said, “I’m going home to spend my last days with the family. Help yourself to whatever you need. And good luck to you.”

     What Marty and Lenny needed more than anything was a purpose in life. A new mission. Neither of them had any living family that they knew of. And even though they weren’t two men who would have been friends before the meteorite hit, fate somehow threw them together. Now they were two peas in the same pod.

     Two peas with a lot of time on their hands, and nothing to fill it with.

     It was actually Lenny who came up with the idea.

     “Hey, people will probably be getting out again soon. They’ll see the sign from the highway and stop to see if we have food or other provisions. Just to kill time, why don’t we stock the shelves with whatever edible food we can find and help them out?”

     “Lenny, I’ve never operated a cash register in my life. And I wouldn’t have a clue how to price the stuff.”

     “Shoot, Marty, I doubt if they’ll have any money. And if they did, I don’t know if it would be worth anything. Let’s just tell them to help themselves. That would be the neighborly thing to do. We can put a big jar up, and tell them that if they have any money and want to contribute something to feel free.

     “If there comes a time when the money is worth something again, we’ll be rewarded for our efforts. If not, we’ll at least have the satisfaction of knowing that we helped some people out.”

     It seemed like a good plan, and they had no other real options they could think of. And so it was that Marty and Lenny, a truck driver and truck yard manager, became the proprietors of a mom and pop store full of free merchandise and a truck stop to boot.

Chapter 11

     Two months after moving to the compound, the group was getting settled. The mine was emptied out and put on caretaker status. Mark and Bryan went over once a week or so just to start up the generators and let them run for a few minutes, and to replace any of the handful of lights that had burned out.

     The mine was still their emergency evacuation point, so it could never be abandoned completely. But after living there for so many years they were quite honestly tired of looking at it.

     Everyone had their chores to do, which kept them busy for a few hours a day. In addition, the entire crew pitched in to plant their first corn, wheat and sorghum crops. It was while doing the planting that they discovered the first serious oversight in their preparations.

     They’d forgotten to buy a seed planter.

     It took all of them, working in shifts, a full two weeks to plant an acre each of the three crops. Crawling on hands and knees, poking holes in the ground with Phillips screwdrivers and dropping seeds into the holes was for the birds.

     But the worst part of it was the realization that this was just a partial crop. The plan was to use a good part of these seeds to plant two acres of each the following year.

     It was obvious they needed a seed planter. Mark put that at the top of his “to do” list.

     They had a pretty good idea where to find one. There was a farm implement place about fifteen miles west on Highway 83, just outside the city of Eden.

     And they knew when they needed to go: quickly. Before too many other survivors started getting out and about. The sooner they could get their planter and get it back to the compound, the less chance someone would see them with it. Anyone who saw them carrying it on the back of their truck, and who knew what it was used for, would know that they had seeds. And in a world where the survivors would be scratching for whatever food they could find, the knowledge that somebody was growing crops on a large scale could mean big trouble.

     Brad said, “There’s another factor we need to be concerned with.”

     “What’s that?”

     “There was a prison in Eden before the meteorite hit. The San Angelo TV station did a story on it a couple of days after the collision. They said most of the prison guards had abandoned their posts. Some were joining the suicide lines at the coliseum. Others were headed down to Mexico and trying their luck down there. The warden told the interviewer that of the two hundred person staff they only had about thirty that were still coming to work. And that they weren’t sure what they were going to do.”

     “So?”

     “So… what if somebody decided it was inhumane to just leave them in there to die in their cells of starvation. Or to freeze to death once the power went out.

     “What if somebody just let them all out?”

     “Wow. I hope not. They would have created havoc in Eden, and probably in San Angelo too.”

     “No, San Angelo is a hundred miles away from there.”

     “You don’t think hardened criminals would have a problem stealing or hijacking cars?”

     Mark looked at Bryan, and saw that Bryan was thinking the same thing he was.

     “When Roxanne and Rachel joined us in the mine, those two men who shot their father on Highway 83. They were both wearing light blue jumpsuits and identical dark blue jackets.”

     “Do you think those were prison uniforms?”

     “I thought prisoners wore orange jumpsuits.”

     “Not always. I’ve seen those late night prison shows on the cable channels. They wear all different colors, depending on the prison.”

     “So, if they let out several hundred criminals, most would probably have dispersed to the bigger cities. Either San Angelo or San Antonio. But maybe some of them stayed around here. Maybe they took over some of the abandoned houses in Eden. Maybe they’re still there.”

     “Maybe. Or maybe most of them are dead like everybody else?”

     “Well, the implement place is on this side of town, and a couple of miles away from it. So we can get the planter and bring it back without ever going into the town. Whether or not we can do it without being seen is the real question.”

     “I don’t even know what a planter looks like. Do you drive it, like a tractor or a harvester?”

     Brad said, “No. My Uncle was a farmer. I helped him plant his fields sometimes when I was a kid. It’s an implement. You tow it behind a tractor.”

     “Will it fit on the back of our twenty five foot trailer?”

     “Yes.”

     “Okay, now the real question is, do we want it bad enough to go get it?”

     “I vote yes. We can’t be spending two months every year and breaking our backs planting crops. And now’s the time to go. The longer we wait, the more people will be out and about. A lot of them are probably still holed up in their homes, afraid to venture out because they’re not sure what dangers are out there.”

     “I agree. Now’s the time to go. Implement places have boom lifts or forklifts to load stuff like that. We’ll take a spare battery in case theirs is shot, throw the planter on the back of the trailer, and get the heck out of there.”

     “Okay, I agree. That makes it unanimous. One of us can operate the lift and the other two will provide cover. Now, which one of you wants to volunteer to tell the girls we’re going?”

     That detail was going to be at least as hard as going on the mission itself.

Chapter 12

     The girls were worried. And they were upset, and a little bit angry. But they weren’t just angry at the guys. They were equally angry at themselves. They thought to purchase or lease tractors, sprayers, harvesters and irrigation sprinklers to use to farm their new land. They’d remembered to stock up on fertilizer, herbicide and insecticide.

     But not a single one of them ever thought about a seed planter.

     They sat down together, the six of them, and went over various scenarios. They tried to brainstorm things that might go wrong, and how to deal with them.

     “What if you get part of the way there and the road is blocked with armed men?”

     “We’ll go slow enough to see them from a distance. That section of the highway is fairly straight and flat. If we see a roadblock in the distance, we’ll turn around and come back. Then we can sit back here again and come up with Plan B.”

     “What if you’re in the yard at the implement place and they block the exit so you can’t get out?”

     “No problem. The yard is surrounded by a chain link fence. It’s no match for the truck. We’ll just crash through it and haul ass out of there.”

     “And what if the truck breaks down and you’re stranded out there?”

     “We’re going to take two vehicles. Bryan can drive the truck. Brad and I will take one of the Humvees. The one with the sun roof. That way if someone is following us, we can get a good shot at their radiator to disable them. And if the truck breaks down, we’ll abandon it until we can figure out what to do next.”

     In the end, they figured they had a solution for any scenario likely to come up. That wasn’t to say they were comfortable with the idea. But at least they were confident that the odds of getting there and back without being shot were on their side.

     They checked and rechecked their own vehicles, weapons and radios.

     And when they were sure they were ready, they set out.

     Mark and Brad, in the Humvee, took the lead, with Bryan driving the flatbed truck right behind them.

     About seven miles away from the compound they crested a hill and stopped dead in their tracks.

     “What do you think is going on?”

     “I don’t know. But it looks like it goes on for miles.”

     “Isn’t there a truck stop up ahead somewhere?”

     “Yes, two or three miles up. Do you think it goes that far?”

     “That’s my guess, yes.”

     “Holy crap!”

     The pair looked in amazement out the front windshield of the Hummer, at what appeared to be a graveyard of abandoned trucks. For as far as the eye could see, both shoulders of the highway were lined with trailers. A few still had tractors attached. But most of the trailers were simply dropped and left behind.

     They started again, and drove slowly past the trailers. There were hundreds of them, marked with all types of company logos. Home Depot. HEB Supermarkets. Walmart. Rooms To Go. It seemed endless.

     When they drove past the truck stop, they figured out what happened in the days following the collision of Saris 7.

     The parking lot at the truck stop was packed with the same kinds of trucks. So much so that even the entry and exit were no longer accessible.

     “I guess the truck drivers were abandoning their trucks and making their way back to their families. They were probably trying to do so at the truck stop, until there was no more space. Then they had no choice except to abandon them at the roadside.”

     “That would make sense. That’s why most of the tractors are missing. They dropped their trailers and then bobtailed it back to wherever home was.”

     “I wonder why some of them left their tractors.”

     “Just a guess, but I’ll bet if you checked their fuel tanks, they were short on fuel. Remember, CNN did a story a day or two after the meteorite hit that said all the gas stations were running out of fuel. A lot of people were tanking up trying to get down to Mexico, or to be with their families in other parts of the country. I’ll bet the same thing happened with diesel. Either the truck stops ran out of it, or they were so blockaded like this one, nobody could get to the pumps.”

     “So instead, I’ll bet the drivers who were low on fuel just parked their rigs and hitched rides with other truckers going in the same direction.”

     “Makes sense. And that would also explain those two rigs we passed that stopped dead in the roadway. I’ll bet they ran out of fuel trying to make it to the truck stop.”

     “It must have been chaos.”

     “And hell, rolled right in together. Kind of makes you realize how easy we had it, compared to the rest of the world.”

     They arrived at the farm implement company without incident, and drove into its yard. The chain holding the gate shut had been cut with bolt cutters, its padlock still attached and now worthless.

     “Looters, probably.”

     The implements were arranged neatly in rows, and the pair drove up and down each row looking for a planter.

     Bryan, meanwhile, parked his rig in front of the sales office and stepped through a shattered picture window to gain entry.

     He emerged a minute later with the key for a Case swivel bodied diesel forklift. On the side were stenciled the words LIFT CAPACITY: 10,000 LBS.

     “Yep,” he said to himself. “That’s plenty of power.”

     He climbed on board, put the key in the ignition, and turned it halfway to the right. Through a small port, he could see a glow plug indicator. He was hoping to see it turn bright red.

     Nothing.

     He started to climb off the lift and open up the hood to check the battery, when he remembered something. Case equipment sometimes had a battery kill switch located in the frame in front of the driver’s seat.

     He sat back down and reached in front of the seat until he found a lever, and switched it to the left.

     Then he tried the key again.

     After five seconds, the glow plug indicator glowed a pretty red color.

     “Well, I’ll be damned. After all this time, you still work.”

     But he spoke too fast. He turned the key the rest of the way, and heard the starter groan. It tried to start, but the battery was just too weak.

     At that exact instant, Mark and Brad pulled up in the Hummer.

     “We found one, in the third row. Looks like it’ll seed twelve rows at a time. Just the right size for our operation.”

     “Great. Get the jumper cables and give me a boost, would you?”

     “Oh, crap.”

     Mark’s words said it all. They’d remembered to bring a spare battery and tools to install it. But they’d forgotten jumper cables.

     Brad scrambled inside the building and looked around the service bay, but couldn’t locate a pair.

     “We’ve got no choice. We’ll have to swap out the battery.”

     Fifteen minutes later Brad was on the lift, following the Hummer to where he and Mark had found the planter. Bryan was close behind in the truck.

     Fifteen minutes after that, the planter was sitting on the front half of the trailer, and the three of them were applying cargo straps to hold it in position.

     And ten minutes after that, they were back on Highway 83, headed back toward the compound.

     They still hadn’t seen a soul. They thought themselves lucky.

     But maybe not.

Chapter 13

     Just as they pulled back onto Highway 83 and headed east, a lone rider on a Yamaha quad runner came out of the brush to the west. It was late afternoon now, and the sun was low enough in the sky to obscure the rider as he followed the truck down the highway.

     The rider’s name was Pete Skully. He’d been out hunting for rabbits. They seemed to be one of the few creatures who was able to survive the long freeze, and had become a primary source of fresh meat.

     Skully had two cotton tails tied to the front rack of his wheeler and had been heading back to the firehouse in Eden where he’d lived since he and his crew abandoned the prison.

     But now, he had something else to do.

     “What the hell…” he’d muttered to himself when he pulled out of the brush and saw the Hummer and truck pull out of the implement yard with a piece of farm equipment on the back.

     And he wondered… if these fools were stealing a trailer, there were plenty of empty ones parked and abandoned along the roadway. Why steal one that was loaded down with a piece of farm equipment?

     Skully wasn’t a smart man by any means. He’d never been able to use his head to earn an honest living. Besides, it was a lot easier just to take what he wanted from others.

     But even though he’d never be considered one of the great minds of the world, Skully could still reason. And he figured that if these guys intentionally passed up empty trailers to steal one with a piece of farm equipment, then they must not be after the trailer itself.

     And that meant they were after the equipment instead.

     And if that was the case, they must have figured out how to do something that no one else in the area had been able to do.

     Plant a crop.

     Skully knew that the sun was at his back. He also knew that if the people in either vehicle looked in their rear view mirrors, they probably wouldn’t see him because of the sun’s glare.

     So even though he was outnumbered by at least two to one, he considered it relatively safe to follow these clowns to see where they were going.

     His wheeler had a top speed of about forty miles an hour. At that speed, the front end wobbled a bit, and it probably wasn’t safe to drive. But Skully wasn’t worried. He’d taken worse chances than this for less of a potential payoff.

     So he gunned it and ran full throttle in an effort to keep up.

     Fortunately for Skully, the truck didn’t seem to be in that big a hurry. They were definitely pulling away from him, but by only a couple miles an hour. Mile after mile, the space between him and the truck widened.

     But it was always in his sight.

     Eventually, the truck was a mere speck on the distant horizon. Skully had decided that once he lost sight of it, he’d give up and head back.

     But just before that happened, he saw what he thought were brake lights. And the spot on the horizon appeared to be getting just a tiny bit bigger.

     The truck was slowing.

     Skully was still a full mile behind the truck when it turned off the highway. But he locked in the turnoff point in his mind, and continued to focus on it. And when he passed the turnoff a minute and a half later, the truck was long gone.

     But he knew where it went. It went down an unmarked narrow road heading toward a small mountain in the distance.

     Skully lit a cigarette as he gazed down the road, wondering in his own mind what to do with this information.

     And, since he wasn’t exactly a rocket scientist, he wasn’t even sure what it meant. Aside from the fact that these people, whoever they were, needed farm equipment.

     Skully was damn tired of eating Ramen noodles and rabbits. He’d never been much of a vegetable eater before the blackout. But he sure would love some fresh tomatoes or strawberries.

     Then he smiled, turned his wheeler around, and rode back to Eden.

Chapter 14

     Frank and Jesse had three houses to go to finish up their gutter project. They’d wanted to get them all done before the next storm hit. But when they came out a couple of hours earlier they both looked up and saw rain clouds.

     “Today will be the day we finally get a payoff for all our hard work,” Frank said.

     Every house on the block had gutters now, except for these last three. And the remaining gutters were laying in the yards of the last houses, waiting to be installed. They could have been finished days ago, but they could only move as fast as their electric drills could hold a charge. And their drills were being charged on generator power. One at Frank’s house, one at Jesse’s.

     They only ran their generators in the daytime. Typically, they were able to drill holes through the gutters and mount them every other day. By the end of those days, the drills would be dead or going there fast. And it would take all the next day on the chargers to recharge the batteries again. They used their off days to gather supplies, or to help the others bring down trees or till the yards. Or plant the seeds. Finding things to do every other day wasn’t hard. There was always work to be done.

     The decision to only run their generators in the daytime was one they’d made early on, when the world finally grew warm enough for them to come out of hiding.

     It had been Jesse who’d suggested it.

     “We don’t know how many marauders are still out there. Just because we haven’t seen them in awhile doesn’t mean they’ve all moved on. If we use lights in our homes at night, they’ll be able to come right up to the windows and look in. And we wouldn’t even know they were there. They could pick us all off before we ever drew our weapons. Before we ever knew what hit us.”

     It was a sound argument. But it didn’t sit well with everyone. Mike, nineteen years old and full of attitude, countered it.

     “I’m tired of living in the dark. I’m tired of going to bed at sundown because there’s nothing to do. I want to be able to stay up late occasionally and watch a movie, or read a book, or play a video game. Who am I hurting by doing that? I mean, seriously?”

     In the end, though, he yielded to the wisdom of his father. And it was a good thing.

     Because less than a week later, the group heard a flurry of gunshots from another group of survivors three blocks over.

     Frank, who’d earned the nickname “Saint Frank” during the early days of the thaw for spreading the word that food was available at the Symco Distribution Center, went to investigate.

     An entire family had been wiped out.

     Frank walked up as the neighbors were digging their graves.

     “Apparently the marauders knew they had food. Probably saw them eating it at night. Killed all of them. It’s a damn shame, too. They were one of the few families who’d come through the whole thing intact. And they’d gone through the same hell as the rest of us, only to be blown away when things were getting back to normal.

     “And what kind of man can bring himself to shoot a seven year old girl, anyway?”

     Frank pondered the question for only a moment.

     “They’re not men. Not any more. Maybe they were when this whole thing started. But now they’re no better than animals.

     “How many are left on your block?”

     “There’s only five of us now. And only three who can shoot.”

     “Go see Mark Garza on the next block. Second house from the end on the even side. Has a blue truck in his driveway. But be careful when you approach the house. They’re suspicious of strangers. Go unarmed and hold your arms out so they can see that.

     “Mark’s numbers have dwindled too. Talk to him about getting together for your mutual protection. There are a lot of empty houses now on your street, as well as his. If your people moved over there, or they moved over here, you’d all be a lot safer.     

     They thought they had time to hang gutters on one more side of the Johnson house, but they’d miscalculated. Frank was on the ladder, screwing in the corner piece of gutter, when a raindrop hit him square on the forehead. For a flash of a second he thought it was a bullet. Then he realized he was still alive, and he felt foolish.

     Another raindrop grazed his left ear.

     He looked at Jesse, and they had the same thought.

     Jesse said in a panic, “The lids!”

     They stashed their cordless drills in the doorway to the Johnson house to protect them from the rain.

     Jesse looked across the street, to see his sons and Tony Pena gathered underneath the Widow Spencer’s carport.

     He yelled, “Get the lids off the trash cans!”

     When it rains in San Antonio in the springtime, it rains in torrents. Sheets of water, for an hour or more at a time. Enough to flood the streets, and to wash away all the ugliness of the world.

     Jesse went in one direction, Frank in the other. Between the two of them, they managed to get all the lids off the trash cans on their side of the block while Tony and Jesse’s sons did the same on the other side.

     They managed to get them off just in time for the glorious rain to come washing down the gutters, into the down spouts, and then into the trash cans.

     Then they gathered together, underneath the carport, and laughed. Laughed in unrestrained joy. They didn’t have a lot of things these days to celebrate. But a good downpour was one of them.

     The celebrations didn’t last long, though. They’d learned during earlier thaws during the previous two years that water was too precious to waste. It had to be gathered, as quickly and as much as possible. That was doubly important now, since they were gathering it not only to drink and to cook with, but also to irrigate their crops.

     The women, and Joe, and Tony’s sons, started coming out of their houses with black plastic bags, stuffed to capacity. But they didn’t hold garbage. They held empty plastic soda bottles. Hundreds of them.

     When there was snow on the ground, water was easy to gather. But as the world gradually warmed and the snow went away, they’d had to develop a new system. They’d taken several plastic tarps from the Walmart down the street, and nailed one end of those tarps to the top brace on their privacy fences.

     And then they’d installed fence posts in their yards. Two of them, with nails sticking out of the tops.

     The fence posts were spaced out almost as wide as the tarp. But not quite. If the tarp was twenty feet wide, the posts were eighteen feet apart. The idea was to unroll the tarp from its ready position against the fence, and to hook the corner grommets onto the nails at the top of the posts. And since the posts were eighteen feet apart and the tarp was twenty feet wide, the open end of each tarp formed a “v” shape in its center.

     And that was where the water ran. To the lower part of the tarp, and into a plastic tub that was placed there to catch it all.

     During the rains of the early thaws, it had been a mad scramble to fill cooking pots, iced tea pitchers, and anything else that would hold water. There was no method to their madness, and their inefficiency caused them to let a lot of the water slip through their fingers.

     Then Tony's wife Sally and Frank’s wife Eva had a better idea.

     Back when the world was normal, the pair would take their recyclables a mile away to the Marbach Road Recycling Center.

     They pitched the idea to their husbands one afternoon over a game of hearts.

     “This facility, it took all of its donations and sorted them into huge piles. Aluminum cans in one pile, plastic bottles in another. Thousands and thousands of plastic bottles.”

     “Plastic bottles that other people drank out of?”

     “No, Tony. Not the little ones. The big ones. The two or three liter bottles. If we filled the back of the pickups with those things and brought them back, we could fill them after each rainstorm. If we collected the ones with caps, they could be sealed and stored by the hundreds. And we wouldn’t have to run in and out of the house a hundred times every time it rained to dump the water into the bathtubs and sinks. We’d be able to stay outside and fill all those bottles. And even if it was a short rainfall, we’d be able to collect a lot more.”

     No one could see any flaws in their logic. So Frank and Jesse did what husbands usually do, and followed instructions. They took two pickup trucks to the recycling center and collected hundreds of the bottles. They chose only the ones that appeared relatively clean, and only those with caps. And they stuffed them into oversized lawn and leaf bags and stacked the beds of both trucks full of the bags.

     And the system worked quite well. During subsequent rainstorms, the tarps were rolled out from the fences, and huge plastic tubs were placed to collect the rainwater flowing off the tarps. Everyone who was available joined in to plunge the empty soda bottles into the tubs of rainwater to fill them. Then they put the caps on the bottles and set them aside.

     The process was repeated until the rain stopped.

     After each rainstorm, all of the bottles were carried to Tony’s house. Eva would go there daily, and she and Sally would boil the water over an open fire one large cook pot at a time, for ten minutes’ duration, until it was safe to drink. When one cook pot of water was boiled, they put it aside to cool, and put another cook pot on.

     After the water cooled, it was repoured into other bottles which had the labels removed. And everyone knew the drill. Bottles that still had labels on them held unpurified rainwater, and was only to be used for washing up. Bottles without labels were safe to drink from.

     It was a good system, and seemed to work well. No one had gotten sick from drinking unpurified water, and there was enough water between rainstorms to keep everyone supplied. In fact, it worked so well that on rare days when “Saint Frank” had no other chores to do, he collected tarps and plastic bottles to distribute to other groups of people around his neighborhood.

     As for the water in the barrels that caught the runoff from the roofs, the plan was to replace the lids after each rainstorm to keep it from evaporating, and then to use it to irrigate their crops.

Chapter 15

     When Marty Haskins told Tina and Joe Koslowski he’d stay behind to help run the truck stop, he’d admitted he was no grocer. Neither was Lenny.

     And it was readily apparent to the few brave souls who ventured out after the thaw and stumbled into the truck stop looking for food or provisions.

     When they stocked the shelves, they placed each item as it came off the back of the Walmart truck, without any thought of storing similar items together. So when they finally finished, they had Hamburger Helper next to ladies socks, next to motor oil.

     Marty looked closely at the outcome and said, “Maybe we should have put a little more thought into this.”

     Lenny just laughed.

     “Ah, hell. What do you expect? We’re just a couple of rookies. We’ll learn as we go.

     The first visitors came on the third day after Marty and Lenny opened their doors.

     It was a family of four who’d held out in a high school in Kerrville.

     “We were trying to make it to the border with Mexico. But when we were still two hundred miles away we heard on the radio that Mexico had closed the border. That people were stuck in a traffic jam that stretched for a hundred miles. They couldn’t go forward and they couldn’t go back. They were trapped in their cars.

     “So we turned around and started heading back home to Biloxi. Then the car broke down. It was late at night and we had no place to go. We were desperate and broke into this school building, just to have a place to stay.”

     “What did you survive on? What did you eat?”

     “We went to the storage rooms for the school cafeteria. They looked like they’d just gotten a delivery of food. There were dozens and dozens of cases of things, from canned goods to pasta, to oatmeal and powdered potatoes. And a whole freezer full of meats. Enough to feed an army. Or at least, several hundred hungry teenagers.

     “We were the first ones there, but we knew there would be others. So just before the meteorite hit, we took all of the boxed goods and hid them in the locker room in the gymnasium. In the girls showers. We figured that would be the last place anybody would look.”

     “What about the frozen stuff?”

     “We knew it would get very cold once the meteorite hit and it went dark. So as soon as the sky went black, even before the power went out, we moved all of the frozen food and hid it too. The temperatures dropped so fast once the sky went dark, it never really had a chance to thaw out.

     “For about three weeks, people kept coming. Sometimes single people, looking for food, sometimes whole families. We pretended we did the same thing they did. Just stopped by for food, and found there wasn’t any. We even showed them where the cafeteria was so they could check for themselves.

     “We purposely ate only what we needed to survive, and I think that helped convince them. We looked just as hungry as they did. A couple of them invited us to go along with them. We told them no, we were just staying long enough to fix our car, and then we were headed back east.

     “The reality was, we knew we had a safe place to stay, and food to eat, at least for awhile. And the school had a swimming pool. We knew we had plenty of water to drink too. We knew we could survive there, and we weren’t sure what was available out in the world. So we chose to stay.

     “I’ll tell you what, though. My wife and I are pretty sure we’re going to burn in hell for what we did. We send hungry people on their way to starve to death when we had food. Children and babies included. There’s no way we’ll escape God’s vengeance for doing that.”

     Marty had a different belief.

     “Look, there have been many times over the last six years when I’ve wondered if there even was a God. I still wonder sometimes. But if there is, I doubt He’d hold it against you for making sure your own children survived. And they did. So just dwell on that for now.”

     “I suppose you’re right. I only have dollars in my wallet. We came across another man selling food off the back of a truck, but he only accepted silver or gold. I’m sorry, we don’t have silver of gold, but if you don’t accept dollars for food we’ll be glad to work it off. Pump gas or sweep floors or something.”

     Marty waved the man’s money away.

     “We’re not here to make a profit. We’re here because we’re all alone in the world and there’s nowhere else to go. We’re just running the place because there’s nothing else to do with our time, so maybe we can help others out. Just take whatever you need, and I’m a pretty good mechanic. I’ll take a look at your car and make sure it’ll make it to wherever you’re going.”

     The man smiled for the first time.

     “Oh, don’t bother. I stole a brand new car off an abandoned Chevy dealer’s lot in Kerrville. I figured they were just sitting there gathering dust, and like I said I expect to burn in hell anyway.”

     Marty laughed.

     “Well, we’ve got the pumps up and running, and filled the underground tanks with the gasoline from a tanker left on the highway. The sign out front says Fina, and the truck said Exxon, but it works just the same.”

     Within another week or so, they were averaging twenty people a day. Each had their own story to tell, of heartache and suffering. And nearly all of them had lost loved ones. Marty thought back to that first family who’d come in. The ones who’d lived in a school for six and a half years. And he wondered if they realized how truly lucky they were to have all survived.

     They’d heard the same stories over and over of men commandeering abandoned trucks along the highway and trading the goods for silver or gold. It sickened them to know that there were those who continued to prey on people who’d been through so much already.

     They rationalized that, although what they were doing wasn’t all that different, at least they were doing it to help others, instead of getting rich.

     And they helped in other ways, too, besides providing food and clothing. Marty was able to get the truck stop’s boilers working, as well as its well pumps. Travelers had a chance to get a hot shower and a new set of clothing after they’d filled their bellies.

     And over and over again, they’d tell Marty and Lenny that it was the simple things in life they’d missed the most. The simple pleasure of being clean, with a full belly. For many, it was the first time they’d felt human in years.

Chapter 16

     Hannah was fascinated. She’d never used a ham radio before. She was getting ready to pull her first shift at the console since they’d started monitoring broadcasts from around the world.

     John was briefing her on how to use it.

     “Is it safe to talk on it?”

     “No. We’re not ready to risk that. Not just yet.

     “Stay off the microphone and just listen. And log in anything you think might help shed some light on what’s going on in the outside world.”

     “Pardon me for saying so, but you sound just a little bit paranoid. Do you think there are people out there who would do us harm?”

     “The short answer is ‘yes.’ If you want the long answer, here it is. We have things that most people don’t have. Farm animals we can eat. Seeds we can grow crops with. Equipment we can harvest our crops with. People have gotten used to just taking what they need to survive, even if they have to take it at gunpoint. And if word gets out that we have these things, it’ll spell trouble. I think people will come from near and far to take them from us.

     “I’m also concerned about the government coming. You know that old joke about people just showing up at your doorstep and saying they’re from the government and they’re here to help you?

     “Well, I also think there’s a possibility of that happening. That the government will try to come in and take our livestock and say it’s for the good of the people. Just so they can take it and kill it and feed their own families and cronies.

     “You asked a five cent question and I gave you a twenty five dollar answer. And yes, I might be a little bit paranoid, but that’s what I’m afraid of.

     “The government has the technology to zero in a transmission real time via their satellites. But they don’t share that capability with just anybody, because then others could use it against them.”

     “Interesting. So how do we protect ourselves?”

     “Oh, that’s easy. Stay off the microphone. Nobody can track us if all we’re doing is listening.”

     The radio suddenly came to life. The scan function was on, and it was picking up a survivor in Australia talking to someone in England.

     “Sydney is decimated. Probably fifty thousand survivors at best. The city government is trying to get up and running again, but they have no money to hire employees. The central bank has collapsed, and our old Australian dollar is now worthless. The mayor is trying to develop a policy by which they commandeer the land and houses of people who didn’t survive the freeze, and then award a house and property to a city employee in exchange for a year’s work.”

     “Well, that sounds like it might work. Here in Birmingham our main problem is the bodies. We’ve got plenty of volunteers to help gather them and burn them. But there are just so many. A thousand bodies for every volunteer. And the doctors are warning of a plague if we don’t get them all gathered and burned. It’s dreadful. Simply dreadful.”

     As they listened, John took out a fresh new logbook. He entered the date and the radio frequency, and a few cryptic notes:

Sydney, Australia: 50,000 left alive.

Birmingham, England: Unknown number of survivors.

     “After a few weeks of listening in, I hope to have a pretty good idea how many survivors are out there. Of course, we’ll focus mostly on two things: who is still alive here in our area, and whether or not they’re friendlies. And little pieces of information that can help us. Like, for example, if a plague really does generate from all this, we can keep an eye on it, or at least an ear on it. We’ll be able to tell from radio broadcasts where it’s at and whether it’s made its way into our area.”

     Mark walked up and caught the last part of the conversation. But he wanted to talk about something else besides death and plagues.

     “John, can I ask you your opinion, as a lawman?”

     “Sure, Mark. About what?”

     “The other day, when Bryan and Brad and I went to pick up the seed planter… we passed a truck stop along the way, on Highway 83. There were dozens and dozens of trailers, parked along both shoulders of the highway. So many they couldn’t fit in the truck stop any more. We think the truck drivers just abandoned their loads there so they could go home to their families.”

     “Yes. Just before CNN blacked out they did a story on that. Said it was happening all over the country.”

     “Bryan and I have been struggling with the idea of grabbing some of those trailers and bringing them into the yard. On the one hand, it would be stealing. I mean, the goods in those trailers obviously don’t belong to us. But the stuff in them… the food, the clothing, the supplies, could certainly help us to survive in the years ahead.

     “But beyond the morality of it all, whether it’s right or wrong, there’s the legal aspect. If we do bring some of them into the yard, does that make us criminals?”

     “And you want my opinion on the matter, as a former cop.”

     “Yes.”

     “Well, you can’t be a criminal until you’ve been formally tried and convicted of a crime. Whether or not it’s a crime to use something that once belonged to a company that’s surely no longer in business and likely never will be again? Technically, I doubt it.

     “You have to remember that our legal framework has been destroyed. It just doesn’t exist anymore. And if it did, or rather when it reforms again at some point in the future, I don’t think they’re going to prosecute anybody for doing things they had to do to survive. Shot, they’d have to prosecute everybody, probably. Including maybe themselves.

     “So no, I don’t think you have a legal dilemma at all. If you don’t take it somebody else will. But it’s a damn safe bet that the corporations that once owned it aren’t getting it back again.

     “In my opinion, the only dilemma you have is a moral one. Do you think God would approve? I think that God enabled us to survive to help repopulate and rebuild His earth. And I think He would want us to use whatever was at our disposal to do that. So if it was up to me to make that decision, or if I get a vote, I say go for it. Pick the best trailers and bring them back here, before other survivors beat you to it.”

     “Thank you, John. What are you going to do with the radio logbook?”

     “We’ll leave it right here on the counter, next to the activity log. Anybody who’s curious can pick it up and read it anytime. And if we happen to hear anything important, we can discuss it at our weekly get togethers.”

     “Thank you, John. You’ve been a big help.”

     Mark took Hannah’s hand and they walked to room 112, which had been designated as the grade school for the younger children. At the present time, there were only four children in the grade school. Little Markie was the youngest, but according to Karen, the teacher, he was also the most inquisitive and the one most eager to learn.

     It was almost three p.m., and time to get out for the day.

     They’d promised him that if he behaved in school, they’d let him help feed the pigs and chickens before dinner.

     Markie loved feeding the pigs and chickens. Because he made them earn their food by letting him chase them around their pens first.

     And Hannah liked watching him. There had been so few things in Markie’s young life that allowed him to just be a boy, and have fun. This was one of them, and it brought Hannah at least as much joy as it did for Markie.

Chapter 17

     During the years they’d been in the mine, the group had done a great job taking care of their vehicles. One of the bays in the back of the mine had been designated the group’s motor pool. That was where all of the vehicles were stored and closely cared for by two volunteers.

     The vehicles were started twice a week and allowed to run for several minutes to keep the engines lubricated and the batteries charged. They were even driven short distances periodically to keep the wheel bearing grease from settling.

     As a result, all of the vehicles were in good running condition when they were relocated from the mine to the compound next door.

     Including the two Kenworth trucks.

     Bryan was much more experienced as a driver. During the preparations to the mine in the months before Saris 7 struck the earth, he’d gone to a commercial driving school. He’d gotten his trucker’s license, and had been certified to drive a fuel tanker. And then he’d leased a tanker and driven it to and from Corpus Christi to purchase diesel fuel in bulk.

     That’s where the diesel that had powered the mine’s generators had come from.

     So even though it had been many years since he’d driven a tractor trailer, Bryan was fairly experienced in doing so.

     And he found it was a lot like riding a bicycle. Once you did it, you never really forgot how.

     Brad knew how to drive a rig from his Army days in Kaiserslautern, Germany. His job was driving big rigs with tanks on the back, to and from maintenance depots.

     The three of them went together again: Mark, Bryan and Brad. Just like when they went to pick up the seed planting rig.

     Actually, they could have gone without Mark. But it was nice to have a backup with a weapon in case they came across someone who wasn’t friendly.

     Their game plan was simple. They’d inspect the dropped trailers on the eastbound shoulder of highway 83. Those could be picked up and driven directly back to the compound, without having to drive farther west for a place to turn around.

     And there were plenty to choose from.

     Just as they had during their earlier mission, the three gathered at the gate to say goodbye to their girls. Mark held Hannah and kissed her, and told her he loved her. She told him he’d better be careful, or she was going to kick his ass when he returned.

     “And if you see any hot chicks hitch hiking along the road, don’t even think about picking them up.”

     Bryan faked disappointment.

     “Oh, man! That’s the only reason we were going, was to pick up the hot chicks!”

     Sarah punched him in the arm. Then she said, “I love you, baby. Be careful out there.”

     “I will. I promise.”

     Sami merely kissed Brad and looked at him longingly. She was the most worried. She was nervous by nature, and convinced herself ahead of time that Brad would never return alive. Of course, she’d done the same thing before the three went after the planter and they’d all returned safely. She hoped she was wrong again, and that Brad would come back to her again.

     In any event, they’d talked it all out before breakfast. There wasn’t much more to say.

     Tony opened the gate and the two rigs bobtailed it out into the world. Bryan’s tractor was in the lead, with Mark riding shotgun. Brad kept the two vehicles tight, only an eighth of a mile between them as they rumbled down the road toward Eden.

     They passed all the abandoned trailers, but had to go another quarter mile to find a place to turn around. The narrow two lane state highway just wasn’t wide enough, without using both shoulders to give them some extra turning room.

     On the way back, they stopped in the roadway and put on their emergency flashers. John had been monitoring the traffic on Highway 83 from a camera mounted on top of the wind turbine. He couldn’t see as far as the trailers were dropped, but he had a pretty good indication of traffic on the highway heading toward or from Junction.

     “We’ve averaged only four cars per day for the last several days. Probably people living in one of the small towns around here going to and from the trucks to gather their own food. You probably won’t meet any other people, but be wary if you do.”

     Just in case they did meet someone, Mark stood in the roadway, his AR-15 rifle charged and at the ready, while Bryan and Brad went from trailer to trailer and broke the metal seals on the back of each one. Some had padlocks and some didn’t, but the padlocks were no match for the bolt cutters that Brad carried with them.

     Opening up each trailer, they crawled inside and looked around to see if there was anything they could use.

     The first trailer they found that they wanted to keep was bound for a home improvement center. The big orange trailer was full of tools, hardware and household goods, as well as gardening supplies. Three pallets were potting soil, and another two pallets were plant food. They thought Karen might be able to use many of the items in her greenhouse operations.

     Three trailers farther was a trailer bound for the K-Mart store in nearby Junction. It was full of a little bit of everything, but mostly clothing, shoes and small appliances. Things they were certain to need, either now or at some point in the future.

     As they progressed down the line of trucks, Bryan took a black grease pencil and wrote a large “X” on the front panel of each trailer they’d take with them.

     After three hours, they’d identified nineteen trailers they wanted, and hooked their tractors up to the first two.

     Another half hour later, John finally got the word he’d been hoping for.

     “Okay, John, we’re pulling off of the highway now. No problems at all. Never even saw another vehicle.”

     “Ten-four. Tony, did you copy?”

     “I copied. Opening the gate.”

     Bryan and Brad parked the first two trailers next to the frozen food trucks they’d brought out of the mine. Then they went back for more.

     By the end of the next day, they’d brought the last two into the yard. Nineteen full trailers and one empty one.

     The girls met them as they lined up the last two and stepped out of the trucks.

     Hannah said to Mark, “Tell me again why you brought an empty one back.”

     “Well, the empty one is going on the end. Right now we don’t have much idea what’s inside of them, except for what we can see from the end of the truck. So we’re going to go through them, one at a time, and catalog and restack them, so that we’ll not only know what’s in them, but also have a rough idea on where everything is when we need it.”

     “Oh? How so?”

     “Well, like I said, the empty truck will be on the end. We’ll take everything off the second trailer and log it on an inventory sheet. Then we’ll stack it in the empty trailer. Only we’ll stack the items without the wooden pallets underneath them. That way we can stack the goods higher. All the way up to the ceiling if we need to. And by stacking it higher, we can leave a walkway down the center of the trailer, so we can walk all the way to the back if we need to. We’ll also leave an occasional break to put boxes when we have to dig something out. By getting rid of the pallets and stacking things higher, we should have room for the pathway and the breaks and still have room to get everything from the second trailer into the empty one.

     “Then once the second trailer is empty, we’ll put the stuff from the third trailer into it, in the same manner. And we’ll do that all the way down the line.

     “When we’re finished, we’ll have an inventory list for each trailer. It’ll tell us roughly where each item is located, on the right or left side of the trailer, and approximately how far back. It’ll make it much easier to find a particular item when we need it.”

     “That sounds like quite a project.”

     “Oh, it will be. That’s why we’ve each committed to spending every Saturday for the foreseeable future to getting it done. You girls can help us if you want.”

     Sami laughed.

     “Sorry, Saturdays are the days when we go get our hair done, and manis and pedis.”

     Sarah added, “Yes. And don’t forget shopping at the mall.”

     Hannah said, “Don’t listen to these two fruitcakes. I for one would be happy to help. How long do you think it’ll take?”

     “We’re figuring the better part of a year. Maybe even longer.”

     “Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got lots of time, huh?”

Chapter 18

     They had worked out a great system on Buena Vista Drive.

     They had a rough go of it at first, when they planted their first batch of wheat seeds from the Home Depot. They watered the crop religiously and watched in hopeful anticipation from day to day, but the plants just never came out of the ground.

     The corn crop, on the other side of the street, was planted after the wheat. Those plants were more than a foot high when the group finally gave up on the wheat.

     They got a second batch of seeds, this time a different brand and a different strain.

     And they repeated the back breaking job of planting the seeds, by hand, row by row, yard by yard, crawling around on their hands and knees.

     But this time it paid off, and eight days after being planted the plants started breaking free from the ground and growing.

     And so now, several weeks later, they had a system. Every fourth day without rain two of them would spend the day watering, using a small gas powered pump to pump water from the rain barrels through a water hose. They’d go row by row, yard by yard, to give each plant a much needed drink. And they’d look to the sky and pray for rain to refill their rain barrels before they all ran dry.

     But just in case the rain didn’t come, on the watering days, four others took two pickups to the playa lake a few blocks away. In the back of each truck were dozens of old milk containers they’d gathered at the recycling center. And two by two, they carried the empty containers to the water’s edge and held them beneath the water to fill them.

     Then they carried them back to the pickup and swapped them out for two more empties.

     After they filled the containers and headed back home, they poured them all into the rain barrels. It was an effort to keep from running out, in case their irrigation needs exceeded their rainfall.

     The crops were growing quite well now. It turned out that Widow Spencer and Frank’s wife Eva had very green thumbs. They issued the instructions, on when to water and how much water to apply, and when to apply fertilizer and insecticide. The men, as a rule, didn’t know much about how to care for plants, but were ready volunteers to follow the women’s instructions.

     It was while pulling weeds and grass from between the corn stalks that Frank first brought up his plans to go deer hunting to Jesse.

     “I used to go every year up near Junction. East of a place called Salt Mountain. I never failed to bring back a good sized white tail.”

     Jesse laughed.

     “Times have changed, Frank. The world was frozen solid for five straight years. And even when it started to thaw, it thawed a little at a time before freezing again. It killed everything out there.”

     “Don’t be so sure about that, my friend. The birds are starting to come back now. Not many, but I’ve seen three or four in the past week. If they can survive, why not deer?

     “I don’t know for sure, but I suspect the birds found deep caverns or caves to live in for the freeze. Places where maybe it stayed a little warmer than the outside world. Warm enough to allow bugs to survive. And those same caverns and caves had water for them to drink. You’ve been to Carlsbad Caverns. You know that two hundred feet underground it stays about seventy degrees, even in the dead of winter.”

     “I know, Frank. But what you’re missing is that deer ain’t birds. They can’t just fly into caves and caverns. And they don’t eat bugs. They eat grass and leaves.”

     “I know that, you big dummy. But deer survive in the winter by using their hooves to scrape snow off the grass so they can eat it. They eat the snow to get their water needs. And they eat some of the low hanging tree branches. And I’m guessing that in the deep woods around Salt Mountain, the snow didn’t get several feet thick like it did here. It normally doesn’t in the woods. It collects on the trees until winds blow it elsewhere. And if it never got more than a foot or two deep in those woods, then maybe the deer were able to survive.”

     “I wish I could share your enthusiasm, Frank. But let me know when you want to head that way, and I’ll go along.”

     “No. No offense, but that’s seventy five miles away. If my truck breaks down and I can’t get another vehicle running, I may have to hike back, and that would take several days. I don’t want to leave the group unattended for that long. I’d rather you stayed her to protect everyone, just in case the marauders came back.”

     “That’s a long way to go by yourself.”

     Frank laughed.

     “I’ve been hunting all alone up there a hundred times over the years. I know the area like the back of my hand. The only thing I don’t know is whether or not the deer have managed to survive. And I have a burning need to answer that question in my own mind.”

     “I still think it’s a pipe dream.”

     “Maybe. But look it this way. We’ve got a good crop of corn and wheat coming in out here. And the girls have all manner of other vegetables planted in the back yards now. And that’s fine, if you want to be a vegetarian your whole life

     “But I’m not a vegetarian. I’m a meat lover, and I’m not ashamed to say so. I could live the rest of my life eating tomatoes and corn and squash. But every time I picked up my fork I’d wish for a big old juicy steak instead.”

     Jesse pondered Frank’s logic.

     “Well, when you put it that way, I have to admit that I’ve kinda missed meat myself. But do you really think the deer have been able to survive?”

     “No. I mean, I’m not sure. And to be honest, it goes against all reason and they’re probably long gone. But I feel in my heart that if there is anyplace on earth where deer could survive in winter conditions, it would be in a deep woods environment like the area around Salt Mountain.

     “And I’ll never know for sure until I go up there.”

Chapter 19

     On a Wednesday morning, as Hannah, Mark and Markie were finishing their breakfast in the dining room, Mark’s brother Bryan came over to him.

     “You ready?”

     Mark had been teasing Hannah about a lone gray hair she’d plucked out of her eyebrow that morning, calling her a vain old woman.

     It wasn’t the “vain” part she objected to. She didn’t like the idea that she was getting older. But it was all in good fun and she took it in stride, making a mental note to tie his shoelaces together as he took his afternoon nap on the recliner, or to find some other way to get even.

     Bryan’s words immediately wiped the smile from Mark’s face, though, and Hannah grew concerned. He took on a melancholy look she rarely saw on him. It didn’t suit him. Not at all.

     “Yeah,” was all he said as he rose from his chair. He kissed his wife and admonished his young son.

     “You do well today, young man. Don’t you skip school and steal cars and rob banks like you did yesterday.”

     Markie giggled.

     “Oh, Dad, I don’t do that. I like school. Miss Karen says if I keep doing good she’s going to make me a second grader. She says I’m super smart.”

     “Of course you are, son. You come from good stock.”

     He walked away with Bryan, not saying where they were going or what they were planning to do. Bryan had the same look of concern on his face as Mark. They were on some kind of mission, and they weren’t happy about it. She was convinced about that.

     Sarah was at the next table, her breakfast plate empty, doing a puzzle in an old word search book.

     “Sarah, did Bryan say what he and Mark were working on this morning?”

     Sarah came to their table and joined them.

     “No. He was kind of moody and distant. But I think he’s more than just tired. He tossed and turned all night. I asked him if there was something wrong, and he said he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

     “I’ve learned that when he’s in this kind of mood, it’s best to just let it run its course. If I push him too hard he tends to snap at me.”

     Something was up. Hannah was certain of it. Either the boys were up to no good, or they were on a project that neither found palatable.

     Whatever it was, Hannah would find out. She always did.

     “Finish your eggs, little man. It’s almost time for school. If you’re going to become a second grader, you can’t be late.”

     Sarah raised her eyebrows.

     “A second grader? Wow!”

     Markie beamed with pride.

     “Yes. Well, not yet. But Miss Karen says probably soon, if I keep doing well on my reading and my writing. I can write my whole alphabet now and read all by myself. She says I’m ready to start spelling and minuses.”

     “Minuses? Wow, you have to be really smart to do minuses. Are you sure you’re ready?”

     “Oh, yes. She said I did great on all of my pluses. Even the ones with two numbers plus two numbers. She says that’s how she knew I was almost ready for second grade.”

     “I think that’s great, Markie. I’ll tell you what. You let me know when Miss Karen tells you that you’re officially in second grade, and you and I can celebrate.”

     “Really? How?”

     “We’ll sneak into Miss Helen’s kitchen when she’s not looking, and we’ll bake you a chocolate chip cookie. We’ll only bake one, and it’ll be all yours. And you won’t have to share it. And you know the best part about it?”

     “No, what?”

     “We’ll make it as big as your head.”

     “Wow! That’s huge!”

     “Yes. Or even better yet, we’ll make it as big as your mom’s head!”

     “Wow, that’s even huger!”

     Hannah smiled and said, “Hey, watch it now.”

     Sarah asked, “Wait a minute, young man. Is ‘huger’ even a word?”

     “I don’t know. I guess…”

     “You’d better ask Miss Karen. She’ll know. She knows everything about words. If you’re going to be a second grader, you can’t be using words that aren’t really words, now can you?”

     “No. I guess not.”

     Hannah looked at the clock on the dining room wall.

     “Speaking of school, young man, you’d better hurry or you won’t make it. Second graders are never ever tardy.”

     “Okay.”

     He jumped up and hugged his mom, then his aunt Sarah.

     “I love you guys. Bye.”

     “We love you too, little sailor. Be good.”

     And he was off in a flash, running down the hall toward the grade school room.

     Sarah watched him until he was out of sight.

     “He’s growing into quite a little man. But he’s a handful sometimes, I know.”

     Hannah laughed.

     “Oh, and how do you know that?”

     “Because I see a lot of his father in him.”

     She grew melancholy.

     “Someday I’ll be a mom too, but I’m going to have a girl.”

     “Uh, yeah… you understand that wishing doesn’t necessarily make it so, right?”

     “Didn’t you and what’s-his-name wish for a boy?”

     “Yes. Mark and I wished for a boy.”

     “And you got one. I rest my case. Thank you for playing. Come back anytime you want me to prove you wrong.”

     Hannah laughed.

     “You’re a hopeless mess. You know that?”

     “Yep. It took years of preparation, but I finally achieved my lifelong goal.”

     “To be a hopeless mess?”

     “Yep.”

     “Well, congratulations. We all aspire to different things, I suppose. Hey, do you have plans?”

     “Nothing that can’t wait. Do you need help with something?”

     “Yes. I want to take a walk, and see what our men are up to.”

Chapter 20

     Hannah and Sarah walked over to the security console. They knew that was the best way to find out where Mark and Bryan had gone.

     Sami was working her shift.

     “Hi, Goofus. No wonder we didn’t see you at breakfast.”

     “No, I had to skip breakfast. I was running late and had to get here to relieve Joe.”

     “You couldn’t get Brad to fix you a plate and bring it over?”

     “Brad’s still in bed. I wore him out again last night.”

     Sarah giggled a little girl laugh.

     “Girl, you are shameful!”

     “Guilty as charged, your honor.”

     “Well, go over to the kitchen and fix yourself a plate, girlfriend. We’ll watch the monitors until you get back.”

     “You know, the men in our group are going to be the most faithful bunch of men on the planet.”

     “How so?”

     “Think about it. Everything we do is on camera. There’s no way Bryan could sneak over to my apartment to be with me because whoever was on the desk would see him and tattle on him.”

     “Well, first of all, Bryan would never sneak over to spend time with you, because why would he settle for you when he has me? Now, if Mark snuck over to see me, that would be a more realistic scenario…”

     “Touché. Now, why in the world would they be poking around in the back of that trailer? And why are they so secretive about it?”

     “I don’t know. But as soon as Sami gets back with her food, I want to go find out.”

     A few minutes later Hannah and Sarah walked up to the back of an unmarked 53 foot trailer. It was one of the trailers the guys had collected from the shoulder of Highway 83 and towed back to the compound.

     On the way over, they’d been speculating on what their men were looking at. They had it narrowed down between a shipment of pornographic videos and a truck full of sports equipment.

     Both of them fell silent when they saw stacks of long crates, stacked two high, with a narrow walkway down the center of the trailer.

     Each crate was made of a wooden frame, but was lined on the inside of the frame with thick cardboard to protect its contents.

     And each of the crates was marked with the words

American Casket Company

Sandusky, Ohio 

     Their playful mood suddenly grew somber, and they knew why the boys had seemed distant.

     They were planning the reburials of their mother, who had died in the mine three years before, and of Rachel and Roxanne’s father, who was murdered on Highway 83 not long after.

     They’d watched on one of their monitors that dreadful day as the girls’ father had stopped along the side of the road to help two stranded motorists. They thought it was a nice thing to do, to stop and help total strangers whose car had broken down.

     And then they watched in horror, helpless to stop it, as the stranded motorists suddenly produced an assault rifle and shot the good Samaritan to death.

     As the killers forced the two teenaged girls out of their pickup, Mark was already outside the mine and running to help. By the time he made it to the scene, the assailants were long gone in the stolen truck, the girls’ father was dead, and the girls were inconsolable.

     Mark knew it was hopeless, but he performed CPR on the dead man for a full twenty minutes, just to give the girls a bit of hope. But he was long gone.

     The group adopted the girls into their family, and buried their father on the floor of the mine, next to Mark and Bryan’s own mother.

     Wrapped in white linen, then covered with pure white burial mounds of powdered salt, the two were given proper eulogies and memorial services. The manner of the burials wasn’t meant to be permanent, and was done only out of necessity, until the world thawed enough to enable proper burials. From the day the compound was first created in Mark’s mind, he’d planned a small burial plot in the western corner for their loved ones.

     “I want it there so the morning sun will come over the east wall and warm their graves,” he’d said.

     And now the time had come to move the bodies.

     Mark and Bryan had told no one that they’d found a trailer full of caskets. They hadn’t inventoried it before they brought it back to the compound, but they now knew it contained fifty four full sized caskets of various types. Some were metal, some were oak or mahogany. Some were plain and some were very ornate.

     They selected a plain white casket to bury their mother in. It suited her personality, they thought. Now they were trying to figure the best way to retrieve it from its nest in the center of the trailer.

     “Can we help?” Hannah offered.

     The boys hadn’t even realized that Hannah and Sarah were there.

     Mark looked at his wife, standing at the door of the trailer.

     “Oh, hi. How long have you guys been there?”

     “We just walked up. I guess it’s time to bury Mom and Bill Meyers?”

     “Yes. This was Mom’s favorite time of year. I think she’d want it to be now. And yes, you can help, if you can drive the forklift for us.”

     Sarah said, “Let me. I’ve had more practice on it. We don’t want to drop any of these and damage them.”

     Her implication, of course, was that they’d need all of them eventually. Everyone expected to live out the rest of their lives at the compound, since the world outside it had become an unfriendly and dangerous place.

     But she didn’t elaborate further and no one else felt a need to comment.

     Sarah retrieved the forklift from the opposite side of the pad of pavement and brought it to the rear of the trailer. Bryan and Mark unstacked the first of the caskets, turned it sideways and slid it onto the forklift’s tines.

     Hannah went after two pieces of 4 by 4 lumber and laid them side by side on the pavement, about six feet apart. They would serve as dunnage, allowing Sarah to lower the casket down on them so that she could drive out from under the casket and go back for the next one.

     Within an hour, they removed the white casket and set it aside.

     Now came the hard part.

     “You girls are tighter with Roxanne and Rachel than any of us will ever be. Would you mind asking them to come out to pick one out for their dad before we put them back in?”

     The boys took a break, sitting on the back of the trailer and reliving memories of their mother, and how she kept everyone from going nuts their first months in the mine. She was the glue that held the group together, and her passing had been hard on everyone.

     Ten minutes later Hannah and Sarah came back out of the building, Rachel and Roxanne in tow.

     The boys watched silently as the girls went from crate to crate, peering into fold down inspection widows precut in the cardboard linings. As they neared the last of the caskets sitting in the lot, Mark offered, “If you don’t like any of those, we’ll help you up here and you can look at the rest.”

     Rachel, the youngest of the two, looked up at him, and he noticed for the first time that there were tears in her eyes. Rachel was eighteen now, and had turned into a fine woman since she and her sister had joined the group. They were both an integral part of their family now, and Mark’s heart hurt at what she must be feeling.

     Roxanne said, “I like this one over here. The dark oak. I think he’d like it. What do you think, Rachel?”

     “I agree. I think if he were to pick out his own casket, it would look something like that.”

Chapter 21

     The boys took the two caskets to the large storage building in the center of the compound and then went back to put the remainder of the caskets back into the trailer. The four of them, Mark, Bryan, David and Brad, spent half a day moving the bodies one at a time through the tunnel and to the caskets, and laid them gently inside.

     They were amazed at how light the bodies had become. The salt mounds that had covered them since their deaths had absorbed all of their bodily fluids and had mummified the corpses. There was a general assumption among the men that their facial features were probably fairly well intact, much like Egyptian mummies of old.

     None of them unwrapped the bodies from their burial shrouds to find out, though. There was no need for the bodies to suffer such an indignity after resting peacefully for so long.

     Besides, they all preferred to remember the bodies as the people they once were, not what nature had transformed them into.

     While they were preparing the bodies, The girls were inside trying their best to console Roxanne and Rachel, making small talk with them about their father and their lives with him. The girls wanted him reburied in the family plot, but the actual process reopened old wounds and brought back new pain.

     Hannah and Sarah found out things about Bill they hadn’t previously known. He had been a United States Marine, had fought for his country during Operation Desert Storm. Then he’d been a high school teacher, and later a principal.

     Hannah excused herself for a minute and called Mark on the radio, out of earshot of Roxanne and Rachel. Didn’t they have a couple of American flags somewhere in a box?

     Mark said he’d take care of it, and thanked her for the information.

     After the bodies were placed within the caskets, the men moved to the northwest corner of the compound, to the small piece of land designated as the family burial plot. It was forty feet square. These two graves would seem lost in a sea of space, but they knew that in the years ahead everyone else would join them. One at a time. Mark found himself wondering just how many generations would have to live in this place before the world was sane enough and safe enough to venture out past those walls again.

     Hannah walked out of the “big house,” as they’d started to call the main building in recent months. It was a humorous reference to what inmates sometimes call a prison.

     “Hi. It’s pretty stressful in there. How are you guys holding up?”

     “Probably better than Roxanne and Rachel. I think it helped us to be involved in the process of getting the bodies ready. Or maybe just staying busy in general.”

     “What’s the game plan?”

     “After we finish the graves, we’re going to leave everything overnight and have the funerals in mid morning. Mom first, then Bill. We decided a joint funeral wasn’t right. They were both fine people and both deserve their own moment in the sun.”

     “What can Sarah and I do to help?”

     “You can pass the word to everyone that the graveside service for Mom will be at nine a.m. Then everyone will return to the big house while we move Bill into place, and will return for his graveside service at ten thirty. Then anyone who’s interested can gather in the lounge for remembrance.”

     “Okay, got it. What else?”

     “We thought we’d leave the bodies in repose overnight, under candlelight, for anyone who wants to visit them and spend time with them. Can you find some candles to place atop the caskets, and maybe a kneeling pillow to place before each one?”

     “Sure. Anything else?”

     “No, I think that about covers it.”

     The following morning, David manned the security desk and everyone else assembled at the grave of Phyllis Snyder. Bryan, who’d once toyed with the idea of becoming a minister, conducted a brief but dignified service to celebrate the life of his mother. The group sang her favorite hymn, How Great Thou Art, and then retreated to the lounge for coffee while the men lowered her casket into the grave and prepared the adjacent plot for the second service.

     The funeral for Bill Meyers was just a bit more elaborate.

     John and Brad were both military veterans. Although they had no uniforms, they stood at attention and saluted their fallen brother-in-arms. Then they enlisted the help of Bryan and Mark to remove the United States flag from the casket and fold it into a perfect triangle shape. Roxanne and Rachel had no way of knowing they’d been up until three a.m. practicing.

     John presented the folded flag to Roxanne, Bill’s oldest daughter, then he and Brad stood at attention at the head of the casket while Joe played a muted Taps on a bugle a short distance away.

     Roxanne and Rachel both said brief eulogies and the group sang Shall We Gather at the River, using notes that Sami had printed and passed out.

     Rachel asked if she could give the closing prayer, and Bryan stepped aside to let her do so.

     Then the group retired to the lounge for fellowship and support.

     John, David and Brad returned to the gravesites in the early afternoon to close the graves, and went to the mine to retrieve the gravestones that Karen had crafted two years before.

     Karen added a final touch by placing a bouquet of flowers upon each grave. She’d grown them in the greenhouse especially for the occasion.

     The rest of the day was decidedly somber.

Chapter 22

     Frank packed enough food and water for two days, but hoped to go back before then. He’d brought a tent, but wasn’t sure he’d use it. The Ford 250 had a bench seat, and it was still cool and crisp at night in San Antonio. In the mountains northwest of town, at Salt Mountain, it might be downright chilly.

     He’d make a decision just before nightfall to either sleep in the truck or pitch a tent.

     He’d arrived in mid afternoon, and planned to scout around, looking for tracks, and perhaps a stream where the deer came to drink. He suspected that he’d probably be the first human to trek these woods in several years, and that the deer would catch his scent long before he could be seen, then scurry away out of fear. So he had little hope of seeing any animals today.

     If he could find some tracks, though, he’d settle for that. In the light of the day, he’d scout out a position to the east of the tracks, in heavy brush, so that the rising sun would be at his back in the morning. Hopefully the wind would be in his face.

     Once he had his position staked out, he’d make his way there in the darkness, an hour before sunrise, and wait.

     Frank had never hunted in the early summer before. He didn’t know how active the deer would be this time of year. They wouldn’t be rutting, and they wouldn’t be hungry from a hard winter and looking for food. It was entirely likely that they wouldn’t be moving much at all. Perhaps they found themselves a nice little meadow, tucked away in the middle of the woods, with access to a stream, and just stayed there.

     That was his Plan B. Today, before he lost his light, he’d try to find a good place to set up for a morning shot. If he didn’t find one, then the next day he’d scout some more, looking for such hideaways.

     He was lucky. Within an hour after his arrival, he’d found the tracks of a single deer. He was right. They had survived.

     Or, at least some of them had.

     The tracks were a couple of days old, and from an animal of only a hundred pounds or so. A doe, probably, or maybe a yearling.

     He followed the tracks for over a mile, deeper into the woods, until he came to a small stream, washing down from the mountains above Kerrville.

     The tracks went to the stream, where the animal had paused to drink, and then changed direction. They then went off into a thicket.

     Frank traversed the stream and examined the other side.

     Another set of tracks, a bit newer. This animal was about the same size as the first. Or maybe it was the same animal, who’d crossed the stream at another point and then came back for a drink from the other side.

     Then, after he’d reversed course and looked downstream a hundred yards, Frank found what he was looking for. A third set, no more than a day old, of a good sized buck. He guessed easily two twenty five, two fifty.

     He’d found his hunting ground.

     He looked up to see he only had an hour of daylight left. He scouted around, and found a thicket a hundred yards away to the east. It was a good place to hide, and should mask a good portion of the morning breeze.

     He headed back to his truck.

     It had taken him longer than he’d planned to find his spot, and by the time he made it back to the truck the sun had already dipped below the horizon.

     He’d set up this tent in the darkness before, but it had been awhile. And as he recalled, it hadn’t been much fun the last time. This time, after having forgotten how to do it, it would likely be even less so.

     So in the end, it was the darkness that decided his sleeping accommodations for him. He left the tent in the back of the truck and ate two of the sandwiches Eva had packed for him.

     Then he raised the steering wheel as high as it would go to get it out of the way, pushed the bench seat back as far as he could, and tucked the seat belts into the seat.

     He started the engine before he crawled in, to warm up the cab. It was already getting chilly out.

     After ten minutes, the cab was toasty warm and he turned off the engine. He’d covered himself with his sleeping bag, and although he wasn’t too thrilled with having to sleep through the night with his knees bent, it wouldn’t be the worst position he’d ever slept in.

     And although it was cramped inside the truck, the bench seat was a lot more comfortable than the thin bedroll he’d have placed on the floor of the tent.

     He drifted off to sleep hoping that the dawn would bring him luck.

Chapter 23

     Frank awoke around four a.m. The heat in the cab had dissipated hours before and the cold air on his face and upper body woke him up. He started the truck mostly so he could see the clock light up on the darkened dashboard. But the warmth from the heater would be a welcome friend as well.

     While he was waiting for the engine to warm up and heat the cab, he stumbled outside to stretch his legs and take a leak.

     It was while walking around, trying to work the stiffness out of his legs and knees, that Frank decided he was too old to spend the night in a cramped position inside a too-small pickup truck. If he stayed a second night, he’d do it in the tent.

     He ate his breakfast, two more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, while letting the warmth of the truck’s heater blow over his face.

     Then, by four thirty, he was out of the truck and on his way to what he hoped would turn out to be his happy hunting grounds.

     Frank had spent an immeasurable number of hours hunkered down in deer blinds or in tree stands over the years, waiting for deer to come into view. As he reflected back, it occurred to him that he enjoyed those times immensely. They’d given him a chance to ponder life. Where he’d come from, where he was going. His life in general compared to others he knew.

     And he also remembered how boring it could be sitting in a single place for hours at a time, trying not to move or make any noise. Many men couldn’t do it. Couldn’t stay still for as long as it took. They flat didn’t have the patience. These were the same men who never had any luck at fishing either. Because they gave up if the fish didn’t bite immediately.

     Frank wondered if any of the fish survived. He made a mental note to make his next trip up past Kerrville to the South Llano River. The fish had been plentiful there before the freeze. And he loved the mud cats and fresh water perch that came from those waters.

     So much so that his mouth began to water from the thought.

     Frank was like most hunters, in that he’d developed mind games to play to wile away the hours. On this particular morning, he’d made it his mission to remember every single word of the old Chicago song, Saturday in the Park.

     Over and over again, in his mind, he heard the band sing.

     Saturday, in the park, I think it was the fourth of July.

     Saturday, in the park, I think it was the fourth of July.

     People laughing, people passing, a man selling ice cream, singing Italian songs.

     No, wait. No, the Italian guy selling ice cream came later in the song. Or did it? He struggled with his mind, digging deeply into the recesses of his memories, trying to find the words.

     He knew they were in there. He just had to pry them out, a few at a time, and put them in the correct order.

     And all the time he was trying to find the words, his eyes never lost sight of the stream where he’d seen the tracks, a hundred yards to his west.

     It was late morning, judging from the position of the sun, when Frank finally gave up.

     The deer were out there, he knew. He wasn’t sure why they never showed. They may have moved on, out of the area. Perhaps they also drank from another stream close by.

     Or maybe they were aware of Frank’s presence.

     Deer often catch the scent of a human. And perhaps that was even more so after not smelling any humans for several years. Perhaps their noses had become so sensitive that a human scent, unfamiliar to them, might be terrifying.

     Perhaps they’d all left the area as soon as he’d first stepped out of his truck.

     He took a good hard look at the thicket he’d turned into a hunting blind. It was enough to hide him. And he hadn’t been moving around.

     What was moving around, though, was the light breeze. It had been swirling all morning. Sometimes at his back, sometimes at his face.

     He finally decided that either the constantly changing breeze had alerted the deer of his presence, or that today just wasn’t his lucky day.

     In any event, Frank Woodard wasn’t a man who gave up easily.

     He’d merely stay another day and formulate another game plan.

     Besides, he couldn’t go home now. He’d only made it halfway through Saturday in the Park. He had to stay long enough to finish it, so he could move on to Hotel California.

     On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair.

     Warm smell of colitis, rising up through the air.

     He hummed the tune softly, almost silently, as he emerged from the thicket and searched each bank of the stream for a hundred yards in each direction. No fresh tracks. His prey hadn’t come anywhere near here since the previous day.

     He made his way back to his pickup and ate two more sandwiches. And he took inventory of what he had left in the Coleman cooler on the pickup’s floorboard. Six more PBJs and eight bottles of water. More than enough for another full day. Although he hoped his luck would change and it wouldn’t take that long.

     Frank’s new game plan was a simple one. He’d return to the buck’s tracks by the stream and spend the afternoon tracking it. Trying to find out if he’d just moved on, or if he had a second water source.

     And maybe, just maybe, his luck would change and he’d start finding the tracks of other deer as well.

Chapter 24

     They saw Frank Woodard long before he approached the compound.

     Sami had been pulling security detail, sitting her regular four hour daily shift at the console.

     It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was a critical one. Sitting in a chair, watching a set of monitors. Keeping a wary eye out for intruders coming close to the compound. Watching monitors 4 and 5, which were mounted atop the wind turbine and which were high enough to offer unobstructed views of Highway 83, and also Interstate 10, three miles away.

     It was also her duty to keep a tally of the number of vehicles which traversed each of the highways. At the end of her shift, she’d log it in: twelve vehicles on Highway 83, twenty seven on Interstate 10.

     Such information seemed mundane, but it helped break the monotony.

     It was also one of her duties to monitor the ham radio that was set up on the console. They never spoke on it. In fact, the microphone was still in the cabinet beneath the radio, never even installed.

     No, her job wasn’t to transmit on it. But merely to listen, and to log any pertinent information she was able to glean from the conversations of others. Like where they were calling from, and how many people were left alive in their area, and whether they were friendly or hostile.

     And all information she was able to gather would be dutifully logged in for future reference.

     But on this particular afternoon on this particular day, Sami wasn’t interested in either cars on the highways, or on the radio traffic.

     Sami’s eyes were locked on monitor 2, which showed a stranger in hunting gear, a rifle slung over his right shoulder, on the roadway leading to their compound.

     And he was coming toward them.

     Brad saw the same thing Sami did. They’d been dating for just over a year now. But they still hadn’t gotten over the honeymoon stage of their relationship. They still looked at each other with goo-goo eyes and still held hands wherever they went.

     And they couldn’t bear to be apart. So anytime Sami had security duty, and Brad wasn’t busy, he was right there keeping her company.

     John, who was the chief of security and also happened to be Sami’s father, had just sat down in the dining room for an early dinner, when Brad’s voice came crackling over the radio.

     “John, this is Brad. Please come to the control center. You’re gonna want to see this.”

     “Damnit!”

     John took a big bite of lasagna, and grabbed his French toast to go. He left his dinner on the table, hoping it wasn’t too cold when he returned.

     And then he jogged the short distance to the security center, chewing on his lasagna as he went.

     Frank had spent most of the afternoon following the tracks of the single buck. They led him a little bit of everywhere. A couple of times he had to climb trees to get a fix on his position. He was good at reading the sun, when he could see it. But in heavy woods it wasn’t always that easy.

     By mid afternoon, he was getting discouraged. He hadn’t come across another good sized set of tracks. Some smaller tracks, yes. But nothing that screamed “big buck” to him.

     It was obvious that deer had indeed survived, but not in large numbers.

     Then he came to a clearing in the woods, where the deer had crossed a roadway. It wasn’t much of a road, really. Paved but narrow. An access road to one of the ranch houses in the area, Frank guessed.

     He looked up the road and saw something off in the distance. Something very unusual. Tall and black. Like a high fence or barricade of some type.

     It piqued his curiosity.

     And he needed a break from tracking his prey anyway.

     He approached the compound wondering what in the world it was, way out here in the middle of nowhere. No ranch he’d ever seen had a twelve foot black wall built around it.

     As he drew closer, unaware he was being closely watched by surveillance cameras, he saw signs hanging every twelve feet along the fence and about head high.

     They were the signs Mark had hung just prior to Saris 7 striking the earth. He’d ordered them off the internet, in the hopes they’d keep prowlers away. They read, in English and Spanish:

WARNING—EXTREME DANGER

U.S. GOVERNMENT

BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH CENTER 

INFECTIOUS DISEASES CONTAINED WITHIN

DO NOT ENTER

ADVERTENCIA-PELIGRO EXTREMO
GOBIERNO DE LOS EE.UU.
Centro de Investigaciones Biológicas
Enfermedades infecciosas CONTENIDA EN
NO ENTRE

     At the control center, John wasn’t the only one who came running. Mark and Bryan also heard Brad’s call on the radio and dropped what they were doing to see what he wanted John to see.

     On the monitor, they watched as Frank approached the compound’s outer wall.

     John, who was a police officer for many years, immediately took charge.

     “Bryan, you’re our best shot. Grab an AR and two clips and take position on the roof. You won’t be able to see him, he’s too close to the wall. But if he scales it, keep him in your sights.

     “Mark, you and Brad grab weapons and go to the fence. If he scales the wall, he’ll have to do it with his rifle still slung. You’ll have the drop on him. Bryan will also have a bead on him then. If he comes over, hold him until I can get there.”

     John and Sami continued to watch the monitor.

     Hannah and Sarah walked up to see what was going on.

     On the outside, Frank was wondering to himself why the federal government had built such a facility all the way out here. It was odd, and seemed extremely out of place.

     Then he heard an unmistakable sound. The sound of hard hooves against hard pavement. There was no other sound on earth like it.

     He slowly turned to see his buck, just over a hundred yards away, standing in the middle of the roadway he’d walked in on.

     Frank was fairly certain he could get into position without being seen. His woodland camouflage hunting gear was dark, and blended in well with the black wall behind him.

     His adrenaline started pumping, and he fought the urge to commit a rookie hunter’s mistake: move too quickly and catch the deer’s eye, and spook him into running.

     The buck slowly clomped to the edge of the roadway and began to graze on the tall grass on its shoulder.

     Frank very carefully, and very slowly, crouched down, then flattened himself against the roadway in a prone position.

     He very slowly propped himself up on his elbows and zeroed in on his prey with his 30.06. He got comfortable, and fingered the trigger. Once he was comfortable and had the deer in his crosshairs, he drew a deep breath, then let half of it out. He had the shot. The deer was his.

Chapter 25

     John, watching the monitor, was relieved. As he’d suspected, the man was not an aggressor. He was merely a hunter, tracking game, who’d happened upon the compound. Now he had his deer, and they’d watch as he shot it, dressed it, and then went back for his vehicle to come and get it.

     But then the oddest thing happened.

     Even as Hannah and Sarah hid their eyes so they wouldn’t see the animal going down, John saw Frank Woodard slowly take his rifle and lay it on the pavement beside him. He saw Frank very slowly rise, and just stand there. Looking at the buck for several seconds until the buck raised his nose to the air, caught wind of Frank or something else he didn’t like, and then bolted into the woods.

     John muttered, “Well, I’ll be damned. Why didn’t he take the shot?”

     John, like Frank, was an inquisitive sort by nature. And this was too much for him to handle.

     He got on the radio and said, “Bryan, I’m going out there. Keep me covered.”

     He looked at Hannah and said, “Come on, dear. I need you to let me out the gate.

     The pair walked to the gate at the side of the compound.

     He called in on the radio.

     “Sami, is it clear outside the gate?”

     “All clear, Dad. Please be careful”

     John turned to Hannah.

     “Lock the gate behind me. Don’t open it unless you hear my voice, and I call you by name. I will only say your name if I am alone and if it’s safe to open the gate for me.”

     “Got it.”

     John walked to the east side of the compound, to find Frank walking down the road, away from the compound, his weapon slung over his shoulder.

     John whistled, and Frank turned. Frank hadn’t expected to see another human way out here.

     On the rooftop, Bryan didn’t know what was going on or why John was outside the compound talking to this stranger. But when Frank moved away from the wall he placed himself in Bryan’s field of fire. Bryan had Frank in his sights and his finger on the trigger guard. If Frank unslung his rifle in John’s presence he’d be dead before he could get it into firing position.

     Mark and Brad, as well, didn’t know what was going on. They dared not use the radio, and in fact had the volume turned down. For all they knew, the stranger was still on the other side of the wall from them, still reading the sign.

     John walked to Frank, his hands out to the front of him, palms out, to indicate he was no threat. On his side was a Glock handgun, but it was always there, and he didn’t expect to have to use it.

     Frank was a bit wary of the stranger approaching him. But he appeared to be alone. So Frank would keep his guard up but be friendly for the time being.

     “Hello, stranger.”

     “Hello. If this is your land, I apologize. I didn’t mean to trespass. Just hunting deer is all.”

     “No, that’s okay. I just wanted to find out… well, I was a cop for too many years not to be curious. You had a clean shot. Why didn’t you take it?”

     Frank looked around, and for the first time saw the surveillance cameras mounted on the wall and on nearby trees. He was slipping. In his younger days he’d have known he was being watched.

     “I almost did. I wanted to. But then it occurred to me that after two days of tracking, that was still the only buck I’ve found evidence of. And then I thought, maybe it’s the only one left. And if I shot it, I might doom the deer to extinction in these parts. And I just wasn’t ready to do that.”

     “I admire you for that. I don’t think many men would have given it that much thought.”

     “Well, like I said, I struggled with it. And I wanted to take the shot. But maybe it’s better to let him frolic with the ladies for another year. I can always come back and get him next year, and maybe the population will have a couple of new bucks then. Shoot, my people have lived without meat for a long time now. We can go a little longer, I reckon.”

     John got on his radio.

     “Mark, come in, this is John.”

     Mark’s volume was still turned down. But he vaguely heard his name come across the radio on his hip, as one might pick up a faint whisper in a completely still room.

     He moved away from the fence and said into the mike on a low voice, “Go ahead, John.”

     “Mark, stand down and come out here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

     John turned back to Frank and held out his hand.

     “John Brown.”

     Frank shook John’s hand and said “Frank Woodard. Did you say you were a cop?”

     “Yes. Dallas PD. Twenty seven years.”

     “That’s a long time. I was San Antonio PD, then a Bexar County sheriff’s deputy for twenty two years.”

     John smiled.

     “I knew it. You had that walk about you. It’s nice to meet you.”

     “Same here. The cop walk. What some civilians call the swagger. I noticed it when you walked up on me. You know, John, it’s strange. You don’t realize the little things you haven’t done in awhile. That’s the first time I’ve shook somebody’s hand in seven years.”

     “You know, I was thinking damn near the same thing.”

     Mark came jogging up and Frank asked, “Can I ask why y’all are wearing surgical masks?”

     “It’s just a precaution, in case all the decaying animals cause a plague.”

     Frank looked perplexed.

     “Damn, I never thought about that. And it’s a lot worse in the city. There are tens of thousands of people there, slowly rotting in their homes.”

     He made a mental note to discuss masks with his people when he got back.

     John introduced Mark and Frank.

     Brad stood down and returned to the control center to watch the monitors with Sami.

     Bryan held his position on the rooftop, though, his sights still trained on Frank.

     Just in case.

Chapter 26

     It was the twilight of the day when Frank finally made it back to Buena Vista Drive.

     The end of the street had long been blocked by abandoned cars, of course, except for an opening just wide enough to drive through. That was blocked by Frank’s old Pontiac.

     Frank hit his horn three times and Mike came jogging down the street to move it.

     Tony appeared from the rows of waist-high corn that now filled his front yard.

     Several of the other occupants of the street came out as well.

     It wasn’t just that they wanted to welcome Frank home, but it was on their list of things to do. Mostly they came out hoping against hope that he’d been able to bring home a deer.

     None of them had eaten any meat in several years, and they all longed for the taste. Even those who’d never eaten venison in their life, or who didn’t particular like the taste of it before, were hoping to be able to try some.

     Jesse got his hopes up when Frank pulled into the blockaded street and he saw that the back of the pickup was riding low to the ground.

     Then, as Frank drew closer, Jesse’s jaw dropped, and he said, “Oh, for the love of God…”

     Frank stepped out of the pickup quickly, and closed the door behind him.

     Jesse told his son, “Quickly, before we all wake up from this dream. Get Mrs. Spencer out here. And Joe and his family too.”

     “Dad, it’s almost eight. Widow Spencer’s already gone to bed.”

     “Well, go get Joe and his family, then. They’re not going to believe this.”

     It wasn’t until everyone had gathered for the spectacle that Frank finally explained why the back of his truck was loaded down with bags of chicken feed and hay seed.

     And how the cab of his truck became home to six hens and one rooster.

     “I met this group of people on my trip. I can’t say where, because they swore me to secrecy. They could have shot me, but instead they took pity on me, I guess. One of them, their leader, I think, said that if I was the kind of man who let a deer go even after I had a bead on him, that I deserved some compensation for my kindness.”

     Tony was puzzled.

     “You had a shot at a deer and didn’t take it?”

     “Yes. I had the sense that there aren’t enough of them up there yet. That they need some more time to repopulate. Anyway, I was headed home empty handed when this man came out of this compound and started talking to me. Turns out he was an ex-cop too. Nice guy. His name was John.”

     “So, get to the chickens.”

     “I told them we haven’t had meat for years, and they genuinely seemed to feel bad about that. So they told me to wait, and then they came out of the compound carrying these three dog carriers full of chickens. Said they’re ours to keep. They also brought out two dozen eggs.”

     “All right! We’ll be eating good for the next few days!”

     “Hold up. These chickens aren’t for eating. At least not yet.”

     “What do you mean, Frank?”

     “I mean, I made a deal with them. We’re going to raise these birds and let them multiply. I made a commitment to them that we would only kill one chicken for every third chick that was born. That way the flock would get bigger, and eventually we’d be able to share a few of them with another group of people. And that we’ll get the same commitment from them.

     “If we do it that way, within a couple of years there will be small chicken coops all over San Antonio, helping out a lot of people. And that’ll be a lot better than filling our own bellies for a couple of days.”

     Eva gave her husband a forlorn look, but didn’t say anything.

     Frank read the look of disappointment in her eyes.

     “But all is not lost. Tony, open up that Coleman cooler in the back of the truck.”

     Tony did as requested and mouths instantly watered. On the top of the cooler were three large zip lock bags full of fried chicken.

     “They said if I had more time they’d have cooked some chicken up fresh for me, but I said I wanted to make it back today. So they basically cleaned out their refrigerators for me. They even apologized that it was their leftovers. I said, shoot, leftovers are heaven when you’ve been eating stale breakfast cereal and biscuits for weeks on end.”

     Tony opened a second cooler and found it full of mashed potatoes, lasagna, pot roast and fresh strawberries from Karen’s greenhouse.

     “Oh, my God!”

     “But wait, it gets better. These people have cattle too. They told me that if we can find a place to raise them, and we can protect them from poachers, that they’ll give us four head of beef. One bull and two cows for breeding, and one cow for milking.”

     Eva actually felt a bit faint at the prospect of fresh milk.

     Jesse was a bit more skeptical.

     “They’re just going to give us cattle, with no strings attached?”

     “I didn’t say that. The same stipulation that applied to the chickens will also apply to the cattle. We have to agree to only slaughter one cow for every three that are born. That way the herd will grow. We also have to agree that when our herd gets big enough, that we’ll help out another group of people by giving them some of our own cattle. And we’ll stipulate the same thing with them.”

     “So, in a few years, we’ll regenerate the livestock and may have enough to feed the whole city.”

     “Yes. And they were honest about their motives. They said they wanted livestock to become plentiful again, not only to help out the city of San Antonio, but also to protect their own herd. They realize that having the only cows and chickens in the area would put a big target on their backs if the word ever got out.”

     “Did they give you all the chicken feed too?”

     “No. I stopped at a Feed and Seed store outside of Kerrville. I broke into the place and stole the feed and the hay seed, and the roll of chicken wire. But I doubt they’ll miss it. I doubt the store will ever open again.”

     “Did you say hay seed?”

     “Yes. But that’s a story for tomorrow. Right now let’s figure out what to do with these chickens.”

Chapter 27

     The chickens spent the night in the abandoned house that once belonged to the Castro family. The Castros had finally had enough and opted to commit suicide, like hundreds of thousands of other San Antonians.

     They’d told Frank of their plans ahead of time, but Frank was unable to talk them out of it. In fact, he understood their logic. When faced with what scientists believed at the time could be a freeze lasting five to ten years, they knew they’d either live a miserable life, or die a slow and agonizing death.

     Frank and Eva chose to tough it out. But they couldn’t fault anyone for taking an easier path.

     Before he died, Castro made a deal with Frank.

     “Bury my family and me in our back yard. And say a prayer over our graves. And then feel free to use the house and whatever is in it to help you and Eva and the others survive.”

     The ground, of course, was frozen solid as a rock. Digging graves was impossible. So instead, Frank laid the family on blankets on the ground, and then buried them under a mountain of bricks he’d gotten by knocking the façade off the front of the house with a sledge hammer.

     He even made little white crosses for each of them, and did indeed pray over their graves.

     The house hadn’t been used much since that day, except to scrounge for whatever supplies the Castros left behind.

     But it did make for an excellent chicken coop, temporarily, until they could build a more permanent one.

     The following morning, Frank, Tony and Jesse were in the driveway of the Castro house making plans.

     “Okay, this house is perfect. It’s in the middle of the block, so no one driving down the side street will ever know we have chickens. We can open the garage door and take the vehicles out, and everything else for that matter. We’ll line the garage door opening with plywood on the bottom, and chicken wire on the top. That’ll give it some ventilation and keep the birds in. And once we’re done, we just spread some chicken feed on the garage floor and attract them out of the house. We can access the coop from inside the house to gather eggs and feed and water them.”

     “Sounds like a good plan, Frank. But you never did explain what you’re going to do with the hay seed.”

     “Okay, I brought a bag each of Timothy hay and alfalfa seeds. I read the bags, and it doesn’t have to be planted every year like corn and wheat. Once it’s planted it’ll come up every year on its own.

     “We’ve already dedicated the front yards for our subsistence crops. Corn on one side of the street and wheat for the other side. And we were going to use the back yards for the other stuff. The tomatoes and potatoes and carrots and such.

     “But I’ve talked to the girls, and they don’t need that much space to grow the miscellaneous stuff. They say that ten back yards is more than enough space. So they’re going to grow their garden in the back yards on the east side of the block. And we’ll plant hay in the back yards on the west side of the block. We’ll take down the fences between the houses so the cattle can wander freely between the yards to graze and such. And with ten yards full of hay, almost an acre and a half, there should be enough hay to feed a handful of cattle all year around.”

     “These people you met up there, Frank. How did they manage to keep animals alive all this time?”

     “I don’t know. I never thought to ask them. And I’m not sure I would have anyway. They asked me to keep their secret to protect them. And I guess it’s the least I can do for their offering to help us.”

     “When are you going back for the cattle?”

     “Not until the hay is knee high. That’s going to be awhile. I figure we’d plant it first, and then while it’s growing we can strengthen the fence line. The privacy fences are high enough to keep people from seeing in, but I don’t think they’re strong enough. If a three hundred pound cow leans up against it, I’m not so sure it wouldn’t topple right over.”

     “Strengthen it how?”

     “I’m going to make some runs to home depot in the pickup. Bring back a bunch of fence posts and bags of Sacrete. And some post hole diggers. When they built the fences they put the posts eight feet apart. I’m going to add an additional post between the original posts, so that they’re only four feet apart. That should double its strength.”

     “That’s a lot of fence posts.”

     “Yes, but I don’t have to do it all at once. It’ll take the hay two months or more to grow that high, so I can do three or four posts a day and get it done in time.”

     “I’ll help. I’ve never been afraid of hard work. What else do we need to do?”

     “Well, I wanted to ask if you’d help me take the ham radio tower out of the Castros’ back yard and reinstall it in mine. My friend John, the ex-cop, gave me a frequency number and a call sign so we can keep in touch. He said we can talk as long as it’s in short bursts and as long as we don’t mention anything about the animals.”

     “What do you mean, short bursts?”

     “Broadcasting for only a few seconds at a time. That prevents anyone who has tracking equipment from getting a fix on their location. I personally think that’s overkill on their part, but that’s the way they want it. And they didn’t have to help us at all, so I don’t mind playing by their rules.”

     “So how do you communicate if you have to keep it short?”

     “John said he’d come across and say something like, ‘Frank Furter, if you’re listening, I need to know when you’re coming for a visit.’”

     Jesse laughed.

     “Frank Furter?”

     “Yes. And he’s Johnny Bravo. We needed names no one else would use.”

     “Well, I think those names are safe.”

     “Anyway, he’ll send a brief message that will only keep him on air for a few seconds. I’ll wait a couple of hours and then respond with something like, ‘Johnny Bravo, if you’re out there, I’m coming to visit you in three days.’ Then he’ll wait a few hours and broadcast ‘Frank Furter, be careful and have a safe journey’”

     “And what will all of that accomplish?”

     “It takes the tracking equipment a little bit of time to pinpoint a broadcast location. By only talking for a few seconds, it doesn’t give them that time.”

     “What if you’re not at the radio when the call comes in?”

     “He said if I don’t respond within a couple of hours they’ll just broadcast the same message a couple of times a day until I do respond. They said to leave the radio on as much as possible, and to listen for the call signal.”

     “Okay. I’ll have the boys start tilling up the back yards and taking down the fences between the houses. You and I can go behind them to plant the seed, and then once it’s planted I’ll help you with the antenna and the fence posts. How are you going to get the cattle here?”

     “I told John I’d find a livestock trailer from a dealer’s yard outside of town. He seemed to think it was a bad idea. That it might attract the wrong kind of attention. He suggested taking a U-Haul truck instead. They have ramps to get the cattle up and down, and nobody would know what was in the truck. We could get them here without anyone knowing.”

     “Is the ramp on a U-Haul truck strong enough for a cow?”

     “Funny. I asked John the same thing. He said if you can roll a five hundred refrigerator up the ramp, then it should accommodate a three hundred pound cow.”

     “Good point.”

     “Okay. My boys are good with mechanics. After they finish the tilling, I’ll have them go find such a truck and replace the battery, and whatever else they need to do to get it in good running shape.”

     Tony had walked up on the two and had listened in on the last part of the conversation. He had his own questions.

     “How do you get the cattle on and off the ramp if they don’t want to cooperate?”

     “John said not to worry about that. He said they’d show us how when we got there, and they’d put them on for us. All we’ll have to do is get them back off again.”

     “So, what can I do to help?”

     “Well, if you oversaw everything else, the corn and wheat crops, the security, the Symco supply runs… if you could handle all of that, it would allow Jesse and I to devote most of our time to this project.”

     “You got it, Frank Furter.”

     He said it with a big smile, but Frank wondered if maybe he should have kept that part of the plan to himself.

Chapter 28

     As it turned out, the hay grew a lot faster than Frank had expected. Several good rainstorms and moderate temperatures helped. In just over a month, the hay was well over his knees and growing like wildfire.

     The other projects were finished as well. Frank had spoken to John several times on the radio. John’s last transmission was, “Ready when you are. Approach slowly.”

     Eva and Jesse were still a little apprehensive.

     Eva said, “What if it’s a trap, Frank? What if these people are just trying to lure you there, to do you harm?”

     “Don’t be silly, dear. If they wanted to do me harm, all they had to do was shoot me when they had a chance. Instead, they befriended me. They gave us food, and chickens. Now we have eggs for breakfast every few days. They don’t sound to me like the dangerous sort. And besides, you know I’ve always had a knack for reading people. And I get the feeling these are good people.”

     “But how can you be sure?”

     Frank kissed her.

     “How can I be sure they’re good people? Because I know good people when I see them. I married you, after all.”

     Jesse said, “I wish I could be as confident as you are, my friend. But I’m not. Why don’t you let me come along, just in case?”

     “No, Jesse. We’ve been over this. I don’t want to betray their trust by letting others know where their place is. I promised them I wouldn’t. If I show up with anyone else, I’ll have broken their trust. And they’ll have no reason to follow through with their part of the deal.”

     And so it was that Frank set out by himself that Thursday morning, in a full-sized U-Haul truck, headed for Salt Mountain. It took considerably longer than in his pickup, because he had to maneuver the large truck around several cars abandoned in the middle of Highway 10. Cars that had run out of gas while on their way to sanctuary in Mexico, Frank supposed, although he’d never know for sure.

     He hoped that whoever had been in those cars seven years before made it to safety and were still among the living. But he’d never know that for sure either.

     As Frank approached the compound, he slowed his speed to a crawl. He wanted them to know it was him, even if they couldn’t see his face clearly. Then he chuckled as he realized the stupidity of it all. As though they were expecting anyone else to show up in a U-Haul truck.

     John didn’t ask him to do it, but as he neared the wall he turned sharply to the left and executed a huge u-turn.

     Then, with the back of the truck facing the security camera, he hopped out of the cab and opened the overhead door to the cargo bay.

     So whoever was watching him could see that there was no one in the back of the truck.

     He waited outside the truck in full view of the camera, unarmed and very vulnerable. But he was also confident that he’d meet no harm.

     It took John about five minutes to get Brad and Bryan posted on the rooftop with rifles ready in case Frank was followed.

     John and Sami went to the drive through gate on the side of the compound, but didn’t open the gate until they were given the all clear by Sarah. Sarah took one last look at all the monitors, didn’t see anything amiss, and told them they were free to open the gate.

     John walked through and Sami quickly relocked the gate behind him.

     John walked up the road that ran along the side of the compound until he rounded the corner and came out at the front.

     Frank greeted him with a warm smile and a handshake.

     “Hello, my friend. How are you?”

     “Doing well, Frank. How about yourself? And how was your trip?”

     “Uneventful. As I’d hoped it would be. There aren’t a lot of drivers out there on the road anymore. A lot of obstacles, but few actual drivers.”

     “Yes, we’ve been seeing the same thing. I hope that just means people are too timid to get out. I’d hate to think that so few people have survived.”

     Frank shook his head. He knew that his part of San Antonio was hit hard. He hoped it wasn’t that way everywhere.

     “Come on, Frank. Let’s get this thing into the yard.”

     John climbed into the passenger seat and Frank restarted the truck.

     “Just follow that road along the side of the compound. They’ll open up the drive-through gate for us.”

     As they slowly approached the gate, Sarah called out from the control desk, “Okay, Sami, it’s all clear. Go ahead and open it.”

     On the rooftop, Brad held his position, aiming his weapon on the roadway outside the compound.

     Bryan shifted his position, keeping Frank Woodard in his sights as the truck drove slowly by the building and over to the barnyard.

     He kept Frank in his sights until both men departed from the truck.

     “I hate to ask this of you, Frank. But we can’t be too careful under the circumstances…”

     “Say no more, John. I would do the same if our roles were reversed.”

     Frank spread his feet shoulder width apart and leaned over to place his hands on the side of the truck.

     John patted him down for weapons, and then went to the driver’s side of the truck to make sure there were no firearms stashed under or behind the seat or under the dash.

     “You know, it’s funny,” Frank said as John returned to his side. “As many times as I’ve patted down suspects over the course of my career, that’s the very first time it’s ever been done to me.”

     John laughed.

     “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

     “No, not really. It’s much more fun being on the other side.”

     John waved at Bryan, in a hunting blind on the corner of the roof, and Bryan eased up. He never put his rifle up, though, just in case.

     Mark came out of the building and shook Frank’s hand.

     “Hey, it’s good to see you again. How are things in San Antonio?”

     “Not too bad. Most of the violence has gone away. Right after the thaw, when people started coming out of their homes, we were hearing gunshots almost every day. But we haven’t heard any for the last couple of weeks. I’d like to think that the marauders were on the losing end, but we just don’t know. All we know is that it’s peaceful in our neighborhood, and we like it that way.”

     “Well, it’s just about lunch time, and the kitchen staff has just sounded the bell. Come on inside and get a good meal. We refuse to send you away hungry.”

     Frank went inside and met most of the group, and answered a million questions about how he and his neighbors managed to survive the freeze. For his part, he asked no questions at all about the compound or what was in it. He didn’t want to send a message that he was overly curious.

     John and Mark, meanwhile, were purposely vague about the group’s numbers and possessions, and even a little bit misleading. Mark said, “The dining room is only big enough for a certain amount of people, so we eat in shifts.”

     It wasn’t true, of course. But he wanted Frank to leave the compound with the impression that they had a lot more people than they really did.

     Karen came by the table and dropped off a basket of fresh vegetables from the greenhouses, and asked how Frank’s seed supply was back in the city.

     “Well, we got a lot of seeds from Walmart. Some of them came up, some didn’t. Then we got some more from Home Depot. Again, some came up and some didn’t. I think the only things we haven’t been able to grow are cucumbers and watermelons. Everything else seems to be coming up fine.”

     Karen excused herself and returned as Frank was finishing his dessert. She handed him two small zip lock bags full of seeds.

     “I should have marked them, but the black ones are the watermelons. You said your wife’s a gardener. She’ll know the difference.”

      Frank thanked her.

     “From all of us, I say God bless you for everything you’re doing for us. And I promise, we will spread the goodwill to others as soon as we’re able.”

     Karen said, “Perhaps you can help us too, Frank. I’ve been looking for the bees to return to help pollinate our crops. I’ve only seen a few. I’d like to think that they’re slow to return because we’re at a higher elevation than San Antonio and a little bit cooler, and that the bees are just tired of cool weather. And it’s not a major crisis. We can self pollinate our crops on a small scale. But when we start raising crops on a large scale we could use the bees to help us out.

     “Would you check with your wife, and the others who have been helping her? Would you find out if the bees are out in force down there?”

     “Sure. And I’ll do you one better. I’ve been out and about in our neighborhood and the neighborhoods surrounding it for the past few months. I met a woman not far away who seemed to know a lot about horticulture and agriculture and all that kind of stuff. I’ll find out from her if there’s any advice she has for you.”

     “Oh, that would be great, Frank. Thank you so much.”

     “Hey, no need to thank me. After everything you good people are doing to help us, it’s the least I can do.”

Chapter 29

     “Okay, here’s how we’re gonna do this, and hopefully it’s gonna work. They know their feed bucket by sight. They tend to follow us around the corral any time we’re carrying it. And we purposely didn’t feed these four head this morning so they’re extra hungry. We did put harnesses on them, though.

     “We’ll lower the truck ramp and put sheets of plywood on each side to make walls. That way they won’t look down and see that they’re above ground and freak out. Then we’ll walk up the ramp dangling their feed bucket and see if they follow us.”

     Mark held up a cattle prod.

     “If they won’t, we’ll slap them on the ass. If that doesn’t work, we’ll use this as a last resort.”

     “Have any of them ever ridden in a truck before?”

     “Not in a truck, no. But they have ridden in a livestock trailer. And this is how we loaded them. In theory it’s the same principal. They have more room in the truck to get jostled around, but they’ll be okay if you drive carefully and don’t take any fast turns or anything.”

     “Okay, then. I’m ready when you are.”

     They started with Belle, the milk cow. She was the most sweet tempered of the four. Their hope was that she’d be the easiest to get aboard, and that the other cattle might see her and go to her.

     Belle saw her feed bucket and practically ran up the ramp.

     Mark led her to the front of the truck and tied her to the tie-down rail, but gave her lots of slack so she could stick her head in the bucket.

     Next came Sally and Mable, two and three years old. They’d be around for awhile, and each would produce a calf every year or so.

     And last came the bull, Seymour. Seymour loved the ladies, and as soon as he saw the three cows on the truck, he was game to join them. He was halfway up the ramp before he even saw the feed bucket .

     Frank remarked, “Well, that was easy.”

     John countered, “It might be a bit more difficult when you get them to San Antonio. They might get riled up along the trip. My advice is that when you get them to where you’re going, open the door on the truck for an hour and hang out in there with them. Mingle with them and give them each a bucket of water.

     “By hanging out with them and watering them, they should calm down somewhat. They’ll know that they’re in no danger, and that you’re not there to do them harm.

     “We only fed them half ration, and we’ll put an extra bucket and some feed in the cab.

     “Once they calm down, you can untie them one at a time and let them see the bucket, and they should follow you down the ramp. If they don’t want to move, slap them in the rump a couple of times. That may do the trick. I’ll loan you the prod, but only use it as a last resort. The other cows will be able to hear and smell it, and it’ll make them nervous.

     “How high is your hay?”

     “Almost waist high.”

     “And you say you have about an acre of it?”

     “It’s in small plots. The back yards of a string of houses. But it all adds up to a little over an acre, yes.”

     “Okay, that should be plenty. If the winter is extra hard, do you know where the feed stores are along the highway?”

     “Yes, sir. When I got the chicken feed I checked out their cattle feed inventory. They had a mountain of it.”

     “Now, we want this herd to grow, so it can be shared with another group of folks down there in San Antonio. I’ll trust you to honor your commitment to only slaughter one cow for every three live births.”

     “Not a problem, John. There are only a few of us, so a good sized cow will last us a long time if we ration it.”

     “Good. It’ll get a little easier as the herd grows and you have more cows to get pregnant. Seymour fancies himself a ladies man, so he’ll keep them pregnant whenever nature says they’re ready. When you split the herd, give them only to people you can trust, and get the same commitment from them. If we do this thing right, within twenty years there should be enough beef in San Antonio to let everybody have a taste now and then.”

     Frank offered his hand and said, “I don’t know if I’ll see you guys again, but thank you for all you’ve done.”

     John said, “Nonsense. You’re coming back at some point for that buck, remember? If you don’t mind, I’d like to go out with you. I haven’t been deer hunting since the meteorite hit, and I miss it.”

     “You’re on, my friend. We’ll do it sometime after they rut again. Maybe he can impregnate a few more of his girlfriends so the population grows some more.”

     “You’re welcome to come and visit anytime. Just remember that if you think you might be followed, to pass us by until you lose your company. We’re well hidden and we want to stay that way.”

Chapter 30

     John was right. The compound was well hidden. But not to everyone.

     Pete Skully was many things. A career criminal. A convict assigned to the Eden State Penitentiary, until two days after Saris 7 hit when the warden opened the gates. A leader of a crew of cons who’d terrorized the city of Eden since.

     And something else Skully was: he was a patient man. He never did anything in a hurry.

     So when he’d seen Mark, Bryan and Brad hauling a piece of farm equipment on a flatbed trailer several weeks before, he’d just filed that information on the back burner of his mind and let it simmer.

     Skully didn’t know beans about farm equipment. He didn’t know if the equipment on the back of that trailer was a harvester or a combine or a hay baler. But he was smart enough to recognize it was something someone would use to grow a good sized crop of… something.

     And he also reasoned that if the men he saw only wanted a trailer, there were plenty of empty ones they’d passed by. No, they didn’t want a trailer. They wanted the farm equipment.

     He remembered where they’d turned off Highway 83. And he knew that, hidden in those woods just off the highway, was a working farm.

     He hadn’t had fresh fruit or vegetables in seven long years. His mouth watered just thinking of the possibilities.

     After Saris 7 hit the earth and the sky went black, most of the corrections officers at Eden State Penitentiary abandoned their posts and went home to their families. They expected to die in the coming weeks, and they wanted to be with their families when they did. Or, they planned to join much of the rest of the country and make their way through Mexico to Central America, where it would be warmer.

     And that left Warden Ron Chandler with a dilemma.

     He didn’t have enough personnel left to run the prison. More and more were failing to come in with each shift. He had all the cellblocks on lockdown. The prisoners were all confined to their individual areas of the prison. If he left them there when all the staff was gone, they’d all starve to death.

     So he did what he knew was the humane thing to do.

     He opened the doors and set them free, admonishing them to please behave themselves. The world was hurting enough, he told them.

     Then Warden Chandler went home to his family, gave his wife and children heavy sedatives, and shot each of them in the head before taking his own life. His last words, as he looked toward the heavens, were “Please have mercy on us, Lord. I see no other way.”

     Nearly all of the convicts scattered to the wind, afraid that the warden would change his mind, or that he’d be overruled by the Texas Criminal Justice Division and troopers would be sent to round them back up again.

     But Skully and his crew did just the opposite. Not only did they stay in Eden, they stayed in the prison.

     Their logic was sound, and it was actually one of the smartest decisions Skully ever made. Once the prison was opened, he was able to find all the keys and figure out how to use the security console.

     And he and twenty seven others locked themselves inside.

     They figured that any place built to keep people in would also do an effective job of keeping people out. And they also knew that a mess hall which fed seventeen hundred prisoners per day had a good supply of food in its storerooms.

     And they found that their little walled oasis had other things as well. Like an assortment of very lethal weapons. And generators, with a very large tank full of diesel fuel.

     And an infirmary with all kinds of great prescription drugs.

     The twenty eight were whittled down to eighteen over the course of their six and a half year voluntary incarceration. Personality issues, mostly. And when the food ran low, two of the men tried to hide some of it from Skully. It was the last mistake they’d ever make.

     The last eighteen survived by eating food from the mess hall and water from the water tank until they ran out. When the food was gone, they started going on night raids, methodically looting the houses in Eden, gathering whatever food they could, then taking it back to the pen. Those people who objected were shot and left to rot where they fell.

     When the water supply ran out, there was plenty of snow to gather and melt. And there was plenty to burn within the prison walls. They started with the warden’s mahogany desk and the pews from the prison chapel, then gathered whatever wood they could find.

     When it became apparent they wouldn’t have enough diesel to run the huge generators for more than a few months, they chose to turn them off. They took to wearing their heavy prison-issue coats and four layers of prison jumpsuits.

     They also fashioned a diesel burning heater from materials in the metal shop. It was sufficient to heat the day room in their cell block. That’s where they spent their daylight hours, playing cards and roughhousing until the sunlight stopped coming through the windows from the yard outside. At night they slept in their bunks underneath a dozen blankets they’d gathered from the empty cells around them.

     It wasn’t an easy life by any means. But they managed to survive. And by the time the thaw came, they were strong and bitter and used to taking what they wanted by force.

     They no longer lived within the prison walls. They’d moved to the abandoned fire station, enjoying its setting a little better. And these days, for food, they did the same thing the residents were doing. Raiding the abandoned trucks that seemed to be everywhere.

     The locals were all too familiar with the sound the Yamaha quad runners made. Once upon a time they were used by corrections officers to get quickly across the exercise yard from one pod to another, to quell riots and such.

     Now the five machines belonged to Skully and his crew. And the high pitched whine they made was a warning for the locals to scatter.

     For nothing good ever happened when Skully and his crew showed up.

     Those who didn’t make it away fast enough were robbed of the food they’d gathered. And if they were women, and especially if they were attractive women… well, they were robbed of other things even more precious.

     The men knew not to fight back. A couple of them had tried in the past and were shot down like dogs. And the rest of the populace just submitted to the horrors. They figured there was little other choice.

     Skully’s crew didn’t believe him the first time he told the story of watching the truck drive away with the big piece of farm equipment.

     They thought he was just weaving another of his tall tales. Like the time he’d claimed that he was once the mayor of Dayton, Ohio before he was arrested and sent away on a trumped up triple murder charge.

     Or the time he professed to be a former major league baseball player who’d played for the Cincinnati Reds. Until one of his doubters asked him to describe a changeup pitch and how it behaved on its way to the plate. When he was called on one of his lies, he’d laugh it off and claim he was just kidding to pass the time. And then he’d fume silently because someone had the nerve to call him out.

     So it was understandable that his story about the farm equipment was met with some skepticism.

     But Skully was adamant. There was a farm back in those woods somewhere. He knew it. And once he started mentioning the possibility of eating strawberries and watermelons and tomatoes, his crew started hoping he wasn’t full of crap this time.

     On a Wednesday morning in June after the thaw, he decided to prove his theory, and to take Smitty, one of his bigger doubters, along for the ride.

Chapter 31

     Smitty wasn’t convinced

     “Are you sure this is it? This don’t look like no damn farm road to me.”

     “Oh, shut up. Wait and see.”

     Skully was a scumbag in the truest sense of the word. He had absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever. But one thing he did have was an excellent memory. And even though it had been weeks since the day he’d followed that loaded flatbed trailer down this highway, he was certain that this was where it had turned off. And he’d prove it.

     The two cons turned their quad runners and headed up the narrow paved road that disappeared into the scrub brush a hundred yards off the highway.

     They followed it slowly, as silently as they could, as it turned a couple of times. They weren’t sure what they’d find, and although they were well armed themselves, they didn’t want to come around a bend and find an old farmer with a shotgun who had the drop on them.

     So they took their time and tried to be as stealthy as possible.

     Karen’s husband David, the group’s dentist, was pulling his shift on the security desk.

     He’d seen the pair as they approached on Highway 83, and watched as they slowed and took the turn toward the compound.

     He’d immediately gotten on his radio and called everyone inside the compound to come immediately into the building. He then told John that they had visitors.

     John came running, as did Mark and Brad.

     Bryan and Sarah were in their apartment, trying to make a baby. He’d be along shortly.

     David lost sight of the intruders as they entered the tree line between Highway 83 and the compound. They were no longer visible on monitor 7. But he kept an eye on monitor 4, knowing that the camera on the front of the compound would pick them up again as they came into the clearing.

     By the time they were picked up on camera 4, John, Mark and Brad could clearly see them as well.

     “Probably just hunters looking for game. No need to panic yet.”

     “I don’t know. If I was a hunter looking for game, I’d be in the woods. Not on paved roads. I think it’s more likely they’re looters.”

     “Well, it’s likely the signs will scare them off, but Brad, would you take an AK to the roof, just in case?”

     “Sure, John.”

     Brad grabbed a rifle and two magazines and headed for the stairs in the center of the building.

     John got on the radio.

     “Hannah, Sarah, Sami… would you take a head count? Make sure everyone is inside?”

     The men continued to watch the monitors. Hannah’s voice came on the radio.

     “We just got finished doing one, John. Everyone is accounted for except for Sarah and Bryan.”

     Sarah said, “Oh, crap,” and reached for the radio on her night table.

     She was nearly out of breath when she keyed the mike and said, “Bryan and I are in the building. We’ll be there in a minute.”

     Hannah noticed the breathlessness in Sarah’s voice and smiled. No one else had a clue.

     Outside the tall wall surrounding the compound, Skully and Smitty were unsure what to do. They’d parked their quad runners at the edge of the clearing so that none of the farmers inside the fence would hear them. Then they walked over to the wall, Smitty muttering, “How the hell do we get over that thing?”

     “We don’t go over it, stupid. There’s got to be a gate on one of the other sides. That’s how we get in. But first I want to see what those signs say.”

       They walked up to the wall and read one of the white signs that were spaced evenly all the way around it.

WARNING—EXTREME DANGER

U.S. GOVERNMENT

BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH CENTER 

INFECTIOUS DISEASES CONTAINED WITHIN

DO NOT ENTER

ADVERTENCIA-PELIGRO EXTREMO
GOBIERNO DE LOS EE.UU.
Centro de Investigaciones Biológicas
Enfermedades infecciosas CONTENIDA EN
NO ENTRE

     Smitty was aghast.

     “Oh, hell no! Ain’t no way I’m going in there!”

     Skully was more of a seasoned criminal, though. Warnings to keep out never really bothered him much, and seldom even slowed his down.

     Granted, this one was a bit unusual, though, and gave him momentary pause.

     But he was skeptical.

     “Why would the government put a facility like this way out here in the middle of nowhere?”

     “Hey, man, who the hell knows why the government does anything? Maybe to hide it from the TV station so they could do weird experiments or something. Maybe this is where they make nerve gas or something.”

     “Yeah, maybe.”

     “I’ll tell you what it ain’t, Skully. It ain’t no damn farm. Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

     Smitty turned and started walking back to his wheeler. Skully was still debating in his own mind whether to turn back or investigate further.

     He was just about to give up and follow Smitty back to Eden, when the fickle hands of fate dealt a cruel blow to the good folks on the other side of the wall.

     For it was at that exact moment that two male hogs got into a biting match over a sow who happened to be in heat.

     Pigs, when they’re angry, can make a lot of ruckus.

     Especially when one is bitten on the flank and in pain.

     The injured hog let out a mighty squeal, partly because he was in pain and partly to try to scare off his foil before he got bit a second time.

     Smitty, it just happened to turn out, was raised on a hog farm.

     He stopped dead in his tracks. Then he looked at Skully and said, “What in the hell? Them’s pigs! It’s a damned pig farm!”

     Skully just smiled, and tried to remember the last time he had a big steaming plate of barbequed ribs.

     And while he was thinking, he happened to notice the camera, mounted on the wall high over their heads, pointed in their direction.

     “Come on. This is gonna take some planning. We need to come back and figure out how it’s laid out inside this wall and how many people there are in there.”

     At the control center, the group watched as Skully and Smitty remounted their wheelers and disappeared down the road. Insulated deep within the center of the main building, they hadn’t heard the hog squeal, and had no idea of the conversation that had just taken place outside the compound’s walls.

     John asked no one in particular, “Well, what do you think?”

     Mark said, “I don’t know. Probably hunters scouting out a good place to set up a blind. Maybe they saw the road and got curious to see where it led. Maybe it’s nothing more sinister than that.”

     “Yeah, maybe. In any event, it appears that your signs scared them off, so they probably won’t be back. But we need to be more vigilant the next few days, just to be on the safe side.”

Chapter 32

     As luck would have it, Hannah just happened to be sitting at the security console, working her regular four hour shift. Frank Woodard’s voice came across the speaker on the ham radio beside her.

     “This is Frank Furter with a message for Johnny Bravo. Johnny, I asked Robin your question about the bees. Robin’s a neighbor of ours who’s an expert on that kind of thing. She said bees are like roaches. If you see one or two you probably have hundreds. They probably  just come in and out of your crops throughout the day, and even at night and pollinate them a little at a time. But she said if you want some more bees, she can capture a queen for me and I can bring a hive to you. Frank Furter out.”

     It wasn’t easy, but Hannah somehow resisted the urge to pick up the microphone and ask Frank for Robin’s last name. Hannah had gone to Baylor University with a brilliant scientist named Robin Bell. Robin even attended her wedding. They lost touch after Robin moved her family to San Antonio to take a job with a government research facility. Hannah hoped beyond hope that her old friend had found a way to survive the disaster that Saris 7 brought with it.

     But Hannah remembered John’s warnings about using the radio only for short messages. She didn’t understand why, exactly, but knew it had something to do with others using tracking equipment to zero in on their location.

     So she waited a full hour before sending her own message.

     “Frank Furter, this is Hannah Banana with a message from Johnny Bravo. He’ll pass your message about the bees and get back with you. Would you ask Robin if her last name is Bell, and whether she remembers an old friend named Hannah Jelinovic? Hannah Banana for Johnny Bravo out.”

     Frank Woodard, on the other end, was headed out the door to help Tony water the corn crop when he heard Hannah’s question. He thought the very least he could do for all the help they’d given him was to help Hannah reconnect with her friend.

     “Hey, Tony, I have a mission to go on. Can you start without me? I’ll be back in half an hour.”

     Tony chuckled.

     “No problem, Frank. Things always go faster when you’re not around anyway.”

     Frank smiled, but offered no rebuttal.

     He trudged four blocks over, to Royal Valley Drive. The end of that street, like his own, was barricaded with cars to keep the marauders out.

     But Frank was well known by the survivors on this street, and he climbed over the barricade without being shot. He knew he’d be welcomed as a friend.

     This block, like all the others, had been decimated. Only two families survived intact. They’d taken in the sole survivor of the next street over, and four people from the street beyond that.

     And together they’d created a new community, which worked together to grow crops in the same manner as Frank and his group. In fact, Frank had delivered their seeds during one of his runs to spread hope among the neighborhood. He’d always be welcome here.

     “Hello, Frank. How are you today?”

     “I’m fine, Sal, thanks. Have you seen Robin lately?”

     “Try her house. She said she was going to bake some bread.”

     Frank knocked on Robin’s door.

     “Hello, Frank. Come in, come in. How are you?”

     “I’m fine and dandy, Robin. You’re looking as gorgeous as ever.”

     He meant it. Robin was tall and thin, with a runway model’s beauty. And despite all the turmoil that had befallen the world over recent years, she was able to keep her beauty intact. Even when everyone else seemed to have aged twenty years.

     She walked out onto her patio, where a camp oven stood perched above a bed of glowing charcoal, and removed a loaf of freshly baked bread.

     She took the bread to the kitchen as she and Frank engaged in small talk about bees and corn crops and half a dozen other things.

     “I really should wait until it cools a bit, but I just love the way it tastes when it’s fresh out of the oven.”

     She sliced off the end of the loaf, placed it on a plate, and placed it on the counter in front of Frank.

     “Thank you.”

     “No thanks are needed, Frank. If you hadn’t shown us where the Symco place was, we wouldn’t have had the flour to make it. Fair is fair.”

     He took a bite and closed his eyes as he savored the taste. It was that good.

     “I wish I had some fresh butter to put on it. That makes it so much better.”

     On Frank’s street, they were getting fresh milk from the milk cow each morning. They’d kept the cows a closely guarded secret from the rest of the neighborhood, but Frank made a mental note to try to find a butter churn so he could surprise Robin with a bowl of butter at a future visit.

     “So, what brings you over here, Frank? I know you didn’t walk all this way just because you smelled my bread baking.”

     “That’s exactly why. The smell wafted all the way over to Buena Vista Drive, grabbed my nose, and dragged me over here.”

     “Yeah. Sure it did.”

     “Actually, I passed your message about the bees to my friends up north of town. The girl I talked to said she’d check with her gardening expert to find out if they need some bees brought up. I personally hope they don’t, simply because I don’t want to have to transport them. I’ve never liked bees, and they like me even less.”

     “Don’t worry, Frank. If we send some up there, I’ll make sure you do it safely. In fact, I’ll even go up there with you so I can show them how to handle a hive without getting stung.”

     “The girl I spoke with, her name was Hannah. She said she thinks she might know you. If you went to Baylor, that is. Her last name is Jello… or something.”

     Robin’s eyes began to tear up.

     “Hannah… Jelinovic?”

     “Yeah, that’s it.”

     “Oh, my God, Hannah has survived.”

     She was in a state somewhere between happiness and shock.

     Hannah was finishing her shift at the security desk and getting ready to hand over the reins to David, when Frank’s voice came over the ham radio again.

     “This is Frank Furter to Hannah Banana. Robin asked me to tell you she’s glad you made it. And that she and her family has survived and that Adam and Arika send their love.”

     It was the best news Hannah had received from the outside world since the crisis began seven years earlier.

     She sat back down in her chair and began to cry.

Chapter 33

     Skully and Smitty approached Salt Mountain again, but this time they opted to stay off of Highway 83. The camera they’d seen mounted on the high wall outside the compound made them wonder. Maybe they had other cameras as well. Cameras that looked out on the entire area. They had seen a tall wind turbine between the compound and Salt Mountain. It was hard to miss, with its forty foot blades making a shushing sound as they tore through the air.

     But it occurred to Skully that if another camera was mounted on the top of that turbine it would offer a great view of the highway below. And it would take away the element of surprise.

     So this time, they were driving their quad runners through the woods.

     It was slow going. They had to slow to a crawl to drive through a seemingly endless number of arroyos, and repeatedly had to alter their path to go around thickets and stands of mesquite trees.

     But eventually they made it to the base of Salt Mountain, where they dismounted and climbed on foot to the summit.

     By doing so, they accomplished two things. They’d given themselves a bird’s eye view of the compound and everything in it. And they’d managed to do so undetected.

     They brought two pairs of high powered binoculars with them. They’d come from the prison. In another time the binoculars had been used by prison guards in the towers above the exercise yard. The guards had used them to zoom in on convicts they suspected of passing drugs or other contraband.

     But they worked equally well to watch Hannah and Little Markie as they walked hand in hand to the chicken coop to gather eggs.

     Skully watched Hannah through the binoculars as she walked. The way the breeze tossed her hair around and rippled the skirt of her snow white sun dress awaked something inside him.

     “I just want it on record that that tasty treat is mine, before anybody else gets a shot at her.”

     But something else had caught Smitty’s eye.

     “To hell with that. Look inside the doorway to that second barn. Skully, they’ve got cows too.”

     Skully turned his binoculars away from Hannah and toward the west barn. The doors were open on each end to let the breeze come through. And, sure enough, Skully could make out several head of cattle in their pens.

     “Well, I’ll be damned.”

     Inside the compound, at the security console, Brad was diligently watching the monitors, completely unaware that his own group was being watched as well. Skully and Smitty had managed to stumble across a flaw in the compound’s security system. A blind spot from which they could see without being seen. And it had the potential to mean disaster for the people in the compound.

     Smitty wanted to leave immediately. To return and tell the others, and to start formulating their plan to take over the compound.

     But Skully’s primal urges had been awakened. Hannah and Markie had been walking away from him before, on their way to gather eggs. He had seen her from behind, but hadn’t been able to see her face.

     He refused to leave until he knew what she looked like.

     The two made small talk while Skully waited, wondering how this group had managed to keep livestock alive during the long freeze.

     And looking forward to the day when they’d bite into a big juicy steak, with fresh mashed potatoes instead of that crap that came in a box.    

     Twenty minutes later, Hannah and Markie emerged from the chicken coop with a basket of eggs.

     Smitty said, “Those look like eggs. That means they have chickens too.”

     But Skully didn’t notice the eggs. His attention was focused on Hannah’s pretty face. He was lost in his own thoughts, looking forward to the time when he’d be face to face with her, and the things he planned to do to her.

Chapter 34

     As it turned out, the bees weren’t an issue. They were slow to migrate to the higher elevation and cooler temperatures around Salt Mountain. But they were there in sufficient numbers to pollinate the crops.

     Karen had made a habit of leaving the east and west doors open to the greenhouse during the day, to allow the bees access to the greenhouse plants as well.

     Everything was growing quite nicely.

     And Karen was able to keep it a secret that her strawberries were starting to ripen, until the day she carried half a bushel into the kitchen. Helen used her grandmother’s old recipe to create a red sugar glaze, and they served a strawberry pie topped with Redi-Whip for dessert that night.

     It also happened to be Karen’s birthday. She’d tried to keep it a secret, but Helen managed to find out somehow. And Helen pulled her own surprise by producing a second dessert. A succulent three layer white birthday cake, beautifully iced with flowers and hearts.

     For a group that had survived on so little for so long, it was a joyous night.

     But they weren’t the only ones with something to celebrate.

     On Buena Vista Drive, Tony and Frank were finishing up the watering of their crops when Tony’s wife Sally came running from her house, screaming incoherently.

     Tony thought something dreadful had happened, until she turned and he could see the smile on her face.

     He went running to her and said, “Honey, calm down! What’s the matter? What’s happened?”

     She could barely contain her excitement.

     “Lights! We have lights!”

     At that same moment, Jesse’s son Bobby came running out of his own house.

     “Hey everybody! The power’s back on!”

     To prove it, he ran back in and turned on the family’s stereo. Then he put on Santana’s Supernatural CD.

     Then he cranked up the volume, and out into the street came the chords of, appropriately enough, the song Put Your Lights On.

     Eva came outside as well, grinning ear to ear, grabbed her husband and began to dance in the middle of the street with him. It was possibly the only time ever that anyone tried to dance to that particular song. They were a spectacle, but they didn’t care.

     That night, Frank couldn’t sleep, but he couldn’t figure out why. Then it dawned on him that the light coming in the bedroom window from the streetlights outside were keeping him awake. Even when his eyes were closed, there was enough light penetrating his eyelids to keep him from falling asleep. For almost seven years, he’d been accustomed to falling asleep in total darkness. It would take him a few nights to adjust to the change.

     But for now, he needed his sleep. He closed the drapes and crawled back into bed, snuggling with a sleeping Eva. He was out within minutes.

     Two days later, a sound truck drove slowly down the neighborhood streets. Like Buena Vista Drive, many of the other streets were barricaded to keep out marauders, but the volume was turned up loud enough for everyone to hear.

     May I have your attention, please. This is an announcement from the Mayor of San Antonio, Artie Cisneros. Now that power has been restored, the city water plant is expected to come on line within seventy two hours. When your water starts to run, it is important that you flush your pipes by running the water for at least five minutes. After that the water will be safe to drink. Please tune to AM Radio Station 950 for further details.

     Although San Antonio had begun to normalize, it would be a long time before it would recover from the meteorite. It had lost more than ninety percent of its population. There were still thousands of homes that had decaying human bodies inside. And the survivors would have to grow their own food for several more years, until factories and distribution systems could come back on line.

     But the lights and water would go a long way to make the survivors feel human again.

Chapter 35

     In Eden, Skully and his crew were laying out their plans in the fire station’s old conference room.

     Skully drew a rough diagram of the compound on a whiteboard, and a circle to depict Salt Mountain.

     “Before we start scaling the walls I want to put a sniper up here on the mountain. He can take out anybody who comes out of the building to return fire. Smitty, you claim to be a good shot. You can go up there early in the morning, just like we did before. From that vantage point, you can keep them inside the building, and tell us when it’s clear to come over the wall.

     Mark, whose real name was Albert, but who was called Marky Mark because he looked just like the rapper, asked “How in hell are we going to get over the wall?”

     “It looked to be about twelve feet. We’ll hit the local hardware store on our way out of town. They’ve got extension ladders that go to sixteen feet. We’ll climb up the ladders and drop down on the other side. Twelve feet’s not too far to drop.”

     Smitty added, “I saw some ladders on the inside of the walls, leaning up against the wall, one ladder on each side. If we put our ladders up at the same place, we can climb down their ladders after we clear the wall.”

     Skully was surprised.

     “I didn’t see no ladders leaning against the walls.”

     “That’s because you were too busy watching that woman.”

     Skully laughed.

     “Well, you got that right. She belongs to me until I get done with her. I’m gonna break her in right, and then you guys can have her too.”

     Mark said, “Screw trying to line up the ladders. Skully’s right. Twelve feet ain’t too far to drop. And it’ll be a lot faster getting in.”

     “Okay. We’ll need two vehicles. The warden’s Humvee should carry four or five of us. Mason, see if you can get one of the pickups running. We’ll put two guys in the front and the rest in the back.”

     “When are we going?”

     “Let’s try for tomorrow. If you can get the pickup running, go find three extension ladders and get them back here. If we can get everything ready tonight, we’ll send Smitty out first thing in the morning. Then we’ll follow him two hours later.”

     Skully looked at Smitty.

     “Will that give you enough time to get up that mountain and into position?”

     “Yeah. No problem.”

Chapter 36

     “Damn it all to hell!”

     Skully wasn’t happy. He’d spent a good portion of the night dreaming about the woman he’d seen in the compound, and all the things he planned to do with her after they’d captured the place.

     He woke up ready and raring to go.

     Then he looked out the window and saw the heavy rains pouring down.

     He went to the central dining room and found Smitty and Marky Mark cooking their usual breakfast of Ramen noodles.

     Mark asked Smitty, “I can’t wait until we can eat some real eggs for breakfast. And some fresh bacon from those pigs too. Are you sure she was carrying eggs?”

     Smitty said, “That’s what they looked like. I don’t know what else they could be. And I know she got them out of that building, because the basket was empty when they went into it.”

     They looked up and saw Skully walk into the room. He didn’t look like he was in the mood to socialize.

     “So, Skully, are we gonna go or not?”

     “Hell no, we can’t go. Those arroyos are gonna be full of rushing water coming off the mountains. You might get through them on your wheeler and you might not. And that field inside the wall will be hell to run across when it’s muddy.”

     It seemed to hurt him physically when he finished his thought.

     “We’ll have to wait a couple of days until it dries out a little. Damnit!”

     Skully spent most of the morning pacing back and forth in front of a large picture window, cursing the rain.

     By early afternoon, the rain had stopped and the sun came out to start drying everything out.

     Mason asked Skully, “You think it’s a go for tomorrow?”

     Skully looked at the sky.

     “I don’t know. Get everything loaded and ready to go. We’ll take a look at it in the morning.

     The following morning the crew came outside to overcast skies. It didn’t look like more rain was coming, but the clouds would keep it relatively cool and it would take longer for everything to finish drying.

     Skully cried, “Crap!”

     Then: “We’ll try again tomorrow.

     Back at the compound, things were a little more blissful. It was Bryan’s birthday. Helen had made him a cake, and was planning to bring it to him after everyone finished their evening meal. The cake would serve as everyone’s dessert.

     As Helen was taking the cake out of the oven, Sarah came into the kitchen.

     “Have you made the icing yet?”

     “No. I was getting ready to mix it up while the cake cooled. Any special requests?”

     “Yes. Can you make the icing pink?”

     Helen just looked at her, unsure if she was kidding.

     “Are you sure?”

     “Yes. I’m positive. I know it sounds silly, but I’ll explain to everybody after he blows out the candles.”

     Helen laughed.

     “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one. Must be a heck of a story.”

     “It is. You’ll love it. And thanks, Helen.”

     Sarah found Hannah and Sami in the lounge, playing hearts against Brad and Little Markie.

     She snuck up behind Markie and said, “Hey, little trooper. How are you guys doing? Are you winning or losing?”

     “I don’t know. I don’t understand this game at all. I like Go Fish.”

     “Well, if you don’t know how to play, how do you know which card to put down?”

     “Mommy looks at my cards and tells me which one to play.”

     Sarah looked at Hannah and raised her eyebrows.

     Hannah laughed and said, “Hey, I’m being honest.”

     Brad said, “Sure you are. That’s why they’re beating us by fifty points.”

     Sarah asked Markie, “You want me to take over? Miss Helen said you could help her in the kitchen.”

     He didn’t have to be asked twice.

     “Sure!” he said, laying his hand face up on the table.

     Sami tried to cover them before Brad could get them all memorized.

     Sarah sat down and picked up the cards while Markie ran off to help Miss Helen frost the cake and lick the bowl.

     Sami said, “Great! There goes our game.”

     “Hey, I just didn’t want you two to take advantage of poor ol’ Brad.”

     Sarah looked at Sami.

     “I mean, other than that other way you’re always taking advantage of him.”

     The girls laughed and Brad turned red. It was an inside joke that he wasn’t privy to, but he was sure it was something dirty.

     As soon as Sarah joined the game, Hannah and Sami began collecting points. When they lost the game, Sarah said, “Ha! I knew you were cheating. Shame on you for letting your young impressionable son take part in such a shameful activity.”

     Hannah just shrugged.

     “Hey, it’s a cold harsh world out there. Not everything is fair. I’m just trying to teach him that he won’t always get a fair shake, whether it’s a card game or life in general.”

     The dinner bell rang as the group was finishing the next game, and the group reassembled in the dining room. Sarah’s husband Bryan joined them.

     Sarah remained silent until they’d all finished, and Helen carried the birthday cake out to Bryan.

     They all sang happy birthday to him, and he tried to pretend he was surprised.

     And he was, to a degree. Surprised to see that his birthday cake was pink.

     He blew out his candles and everyone clapped.

     Sarah said, “Before he cuts the cake, I just wanted to let everybody know that his biggest wish has already come true. We’ve been hoping for a baby, and I took a test this morning. It’s positive. In nine months, with God’s grace, we’re going to have a healthy baby girl.”

     Bryan was caught off guard as much as everyone else. Sarah had played her surprise off perfectly.

     And all of a sudden, the pink birthday cake made sense.

Chapter 37

     It turned out that Sarah wasn’t the only one expecting.

     The following morning, Hannah was working her shift on the security desk when the ham radio came to life.

     “This is Frank Furter with a message for Johnny Bravo. I have some exciting news to share today. My wife gave birth to a healthy baby girl this morning. We didn’t even know she was pregnant. I guess I have a lot to learn about having babies. This is Frank Furter, over and out.”

     Hannah got on the two way radio.

     “John, this is Hannah. You have a really bizarre message at the security desk.”

     John was at the beverage bar in the dining room, refilling his cup of coffee for the eighth time. Hannah’s call piqued his interest, so he went to check it out.

     “Hey, girlie. What kind of message?”

     “It’s from Frank. He said his wife had a baby girl. He also said they didn’t even know she was pregnant. I thought it was weird because, I mean, how could they not know she was pregnant? And also, Frank looked like he was your age. Like sixty. I mean, that’s ancient. Can people your age even have babies anymore?”

     She made the comment with such a sweet and mischievous smile that he couldn’t possibly be upset. So instead of chastising her, he laughed.

     “He must be talking about the cows, you gooberhead. One of the cows must have given birth. Funny, I didn’t know any of them were pregnant either.”

     “Why didn’t he just say he was talking about cows?”

     “Because I asked him never to refer to them on the radio. Or the pigs or chickens either. We don’t want anyone else to know about them, remember?”

     As they talked, Hannah continued to watch the security monitors. None of them showed any activity. So neither she nor John had any clue that at that very moment, Smitty was climbing up the blind side of Salt Mountain, out of the view of the cameras.

     Once he was in position, Smitty called Skully on his walkie talkie.

     “Hey, Skully! I’m ready when you are. How far away are you?”

     “About five minutes. We’re not gonna slow down, so be ready. How many people are in your sights?”

     “Only one of them is outside. A woman.”

     “Is it the same woman we saw the other day?”

     “Negative. This one’s a blonde.”

     “Okay. Line her up. As soon as we make the turn I’ll give you the go signal. Then you can take her out.”

     “10-4.”

     Sami didn’t have a clue that anything was amiss. She was enjoying a beautiful day, the sun warming her face and a light breeze blowing through her hair.

     She couldn’t feel the crosshairs of Smitty’s scope on her chest.

     John and Hannah saw them at the same time. On the monitor covering Highway 83, a brown Humvee and a white pickup truck came into view at a high rate of speed.

     Hannah’s hand went to her mouth and she uttered, “Oh, no.”

     She was hoping against hope that the vehicles sped right past, but it wasn’t meant to be.

     They slowed and took the cutoff that led directly to the compound. John was trying to get a count of the number of men who were in the back of the truck when they heard a shot ring out.

     Hannah said, “Oh my God, no!”

     John was on the radio immediately.

     “We’re under attack. Bryan, you and Mark get up to the roof. Brad, guard the gate. All women and children to the center of the building. Sarah and Karen, Hannah’s here with me. Take a head count and let me know if anyone is missing.”

     Bryan and Mark were already running full speed up the stairs even before John’s orders. They’d gone through this drill many times in their heads, and as soon as they heard the shot they were off like bolts of lightning.

     “Bryan, Mark… can’t get a number on them. A Hummer and a pickup truck full of them. At least a dozen. They’re pulling up to the south wall and taking ladders out of the back of the pickup. They’re going to scale the wall.”

     Bryan went directly to the hunting blind set up on the southwest corner of the building. It was fortified with sand bags and gave him a direct view of the south wall. He opened the gun case stored inside the blind and took out an AR-15 rifle. He inserted a magazine, charged the weapon, and switched it from “safe” to “semi.” Then he took aim at the top of the south wall. In his sights he could see the top of a ladder appear from the other side.

     Mark was a few steps behind him. He’d stopped at the blind on the opposite corner of the building just long enough to grab the rifle stored there. Now he was alongside his brother.

     John was back on the radio.

     “Two men coming up the ladder now. Let them in, boys. That’s a big field. Let the first two in. Then shoot the next two off the ladder and go back for the first two.

     As John finished speaking, the brothers heard a gunshot and felt the sensation of a bullet skimming off the rooftop of their blind. Mark turned around and saw Smitty a hundred yards away, changing position on the side of Salt Mountain, trying to get to a more stable place to shoot.

     He never had a chance to get set up. Mark took aim, took a deep breath, and slowly released it through his mouth as he gently squeezed the trigger. The bullet ripped through the upper part of Smitty’s heart. He was effectively dead even before he rolled off the side of the mountain and fell sixty feet to the hard ground below.

     Mark didn’t see any other movement on the mountain. He turned back to the south wall again as Bryan shot the first of two men off one of the ladders. As Bryan lined up on the other man, Mark zeroed in on one of the two intruders running across the muddy field, trying to make it to shelter.

     Mark’s target went down face first into the mud and didn’t move. Mark knew he was dead. As he lined up on the second man, Bryan shot the man on the second ladder, forcing him and the ladder backwards and out of their sight.

     Mark took out the second man running across the field, and Bryan shot a bullet through the head of the next man who appeared at the top of the first ladder.

     Then everything went eerily quiet. Skully and his thugs decided they needed to go to Plan B. The problem was, they didn’t have one. But it was obvious this wasn’t working.

     John got back on the radio.

     “It looks like they’re regrouping. They’ve taken down the ladders. They’ve got three casualties outside the fence, and two on the inside.”

     Then Sarah’s voice came on.

     “Sami’s missing. We can’t find her. Has anyone seen Sami?”

     John was Sami’s father. He fought hard to maintain his composure.

     “Mark, Bryan, can one of you scout the compound, and see if you can spot Sami?”

     Then, “Sami, come in baby. Come in Sami.”

     Hannah looked at John. Then she got on the radio.

     “She said she was going to look at the blossoms on the apple trees. And I don’t think she has a radio.”

     Mark told Bryan, “I’ll go.”

     He checked the face of Salt Mountain and saw no more movement. Then he low crawled quickly across the rooftop to the north side of the building.

     From there, he could clearly see Sami’s rumpled body lying in the grass on the outer edge of the orchard.

     He said nothing on the radio. He didn’t know if she was dead or alive, and he didn’t want anyone to get their hopes up.

     Sami had gone instantly to the ground without ever realizing how lucky she was. Smitty had her chest dead in his sights, but lost his footing as he pulled the trigger. The bullet that should have killed her instead went high and to the left, through her upper shoulder blade and out her back.

     She lay on the ground, dazed, unsure if someone had punched her. She’d heard what sounded like a gunshot, but didn’t put the two together. Right now her shoulder was numb and throbbing, and she was nauseous and confused and on the verge of passing out.

     Mark shouldered his weapon and shimmied down the rungs of the fire escape ladder on the west side of the building. He sprinted to the orchard in record time and knelt over Sami to inspect her wound.

     She was conscious and breathing. She looked up at Mark and weakly asked, “Mark, what’s going on?”

     Instead of answering her, he got back on the radio.

     “I’ve got Sami out by the orchard. She’s hit, but not seriously. I’m bringing her back to the main building.”

     John said, “No. Take her to the feed barn. Lift up the false floor to the tunnel. Karen and David, get everybody down the tunnel and to the mine. Sarah, go through the building. Make sure we don’t leave anyone behind.”

     “10-4.”

     John had to keep his wits about him. Not only for his wounded daughter’s sake, but for everybody else’s too.

     “Brad, are you still covering the gate?”

     “Yep. Anybody who comes through it or over it is getting a fast ride to hell.”

     “Bryan, are you okay up there? Can you get an eyeball on anybody else?”

     “I’m okay, John. No activity I can see. There was somebody on Salt Mountain, but Mark took him out. I don’t see anybody else over that way. Are they still south of the compound?”

     “Yes. They’re huddled up, probably licking their wounds and trying to figure out what they’re going to do next. Debbie, you and Sarah give me the all clear when everybody’s in the tunnel except Hannah and us four guys. Got it?”

     “Yes, sir. Got it.”

     “Mark, after you get Sami safely in the tunnel, turn her over to David and get to the main gate to help Brad. But be ready to go back to the roof if they try to scale the wall again.”

     “Got it.”

Chapter 38

     Outside the compound’s south wall, Skully knew he’d pulled a colossal blunder. He’d known about the cameras. He should have known the people inside the compound would see them coming and be ready.

     He’d heard the shots coming from inside the compound, had seen the three men on the ladders get shot. He had to assume that the two who’d made it in were dead as well.

     And now he couldn’t raise Smitty.

     “Smitty, damn it, come in and tell me what’s going on in there.”

     Smitty was the only countermeasure to the cameras. He was Skully’s eyes and ears to whatever was going on in the compound. Where everybody was at. How many men they had.

     But Smitty was no help at all if he wouldn’t answer the damn radio.

     “Smitty, what in hell is going on in there? Did any of our guys make it to the buildings? Talk to me, you son of a bitch!”

     But Smitty would never talk to anyone again. He lay in a heap beside the shear face of Salt Mountain. His glazed eyes, opened wide as he tumbled off the side of the mountain, were frozen in time that way. Glossed over and staring into space, yet seeing nothing.

     His radio survived the fall, and lay in the dirt eight feet away, squawking loudly as Skully’s curses drifted unheard into the passing wind.

     This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. He was supposed to be the conquering general, leading this ragtag army and taking the compound with all its spoils.

     Now Skully was screwed. His lookout was either dead or his radio was out of commission. Three of his men were known dead. And from the lack of gunfire within the compound, he had to assume the other two were dead as well.

     He began to realize he’d gone about this all wrong. He should have spied on the compound for days… weeks even. As long as it took to figure out how many men they were facing. And he should have put more men on the mountain.

     Now he was pissed. He was blind, going into a place he was unfamiliar with, against a force of unknown size and firepower.

     This sucked. It really did.

     But it was too late to turn back now.

     He looked at the other faces gathered around him, as John asked Bryan on the radio.

     “Bryan, that 7.62 round shouldn’t have any trouble going through that wall, right?”

     “No trouble at all, John.”

     “You’re in the south blind?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “I think from your angle, if you fire a few rounds at the left side of the third panel, about three quarters of the way up, they’ll go through the fence and into the general area where they are. You may not hit anybody, but maybe it’ll scare them away.”

     “10-4, John.”

     Skully made his decision. He was moving forward.

     “Okay, back in the vehicles.”

     He scrambled into the drivers seat of the Humvee. The others climbed into the back of the Humvee or jumped in the back of the pickup, just as a volley of shots came through the wall and into their midst. One of them went to the ground, shot in the midsection. They left him behind.

     The two vehicles went around the wall and to the gate that Skully had seen on the east side.

     John was back on the radio.

     “They’re moving over to the gate. Bryan, switch to the other blind. Mark, give Brad some backup.”

     Bryan overruled John.

     “Negative. I’m not in the open, and I’ve got a clear shot at whoever comes in the gate. Brad, you have no cover where you are. Mark, you can’t see the gate from where you are. You guys get the hell out of there.”

     Mark hesitated for only a moment. He knew from the confident tone in his brother’s voice that he had a handle on the situation. So Mark retreated as told.

     As for Brad, he didn’t have to be told twice. He was already hightailing it to the tunnel to check on Sami.

     Outside the gate, Skully was barking orders as well.

     “Okay, put the ladders back up again. Marky Mark, I should have known not to rely on those stupid bastards before. This time you’re the man. Get over that wall and get that damn gate open.”

     Mark had been following orders from Skully for so long he didn’t even take the time to ponder whether going over the wall was a good idea. Even after he’d seen three of his friends killed for doing the same thing.

     As soon as the ladder was in place he scrambled up.

     Skully looked at two more of his men, and shouted, “You’re next. Go.”

     Marky Mark, who looked like the rapper but couldn’t sing worth a damn, would never sing again. When he was halfway over the wall he was hit in the left side of his chest with a bullet from Bryan’s gun. He went down in a heap on the inside of the gate.

     The other two men on the ladder changed their minds and jumped down.

     “Screw that!” one said as he scrambled back into the pickup.

     “Okay then! We’ll just bust our way in!”

     Skully jumped back behind the wheel of the Hummer and backed up about twenty feet. Then he floored it and rammed the gate with the full fury of the vehicle.

     John told Hannah, “Go! Get out of here. Help Sarah make sure everybody got the word to evacuate. Then make your way to the tunnel.”

     John knew that the gate was sturdy enough to take a pounding, but was not infallible. He reached behind the security console and removed a cable that connected the array of monitors to their dedicated hub. All of the monitors instantly went to black.

     He jammed the cable into his pants pocket and logged off the computer that ran the whole operation, grabbed the AR-15 at the corner of his desk, and abandoned ship.

Chapter 39

     Hannah ran from the security center screaming.

     “Oh, my God! They’re knocking down the gate!”

     Skully slammed the Humvee into reverse and backed up forty feet to get a running start. This time the heavy steel gate gave way, but still didn’t break free. He backed up to try again.

     Bryan knew he wouldn’t get a shot until Skully and his gang broke through the gate. And then it would be too late.

     John had sounded the evacuation alarm twenty minutes before, and most of the residents were already in the tunnel, headed back to the mine.

     Hannah ran through the first floor of the big house, making sure none of the elders or children got left behind. Karen was in the tunnel counting heads.

     Sami was conscious and able to walk, but had lost a lot of blood and was light-headed. The pain from the bullet would come later. Right now she was just numb and in semi-shock. Helen led her through the tunnel, toward the safety of the mine.

     Skully hit the steel gate a third time. This time one of the hinges popped. He knew one more time would do it.

     Bryan trained his rifle on the inside of the gate, ready to fire as soon as the vehicle broke through. His plan was to take out the driver first, then as many of the passengers as he could.

     Skully didn’t know it now, but he was living his very last seconds on earth.

     The fourth time was the charm. The Humvee hit the gates and flattened one of them, driving over it and then over Mark. The huge front wheel drove over Mark’s chest, shattering his ribcage and collapsing one lung, leaving him in agony and unable to move. Or breathe.

     Bryan squeezed off a shot that went through the windshield and hit Skully squarely in the chest. His heart exploded and he was dead even before his head slumped forward and rested on the steering wheel.

     Bryan immediately pivoted slightly to his left and sent another round through the passenger side of the windshield and into the passenger’s head.

     Five other men scrambled out of the Humvee and scattered in all directions. Bryan was able to clip one in the leg before he hid behind a trailer.

     Over the radio on his hip, Bryan heard Hannah’s panicked voice: “All clear! All clear!”

     Bryan took two more shots in the general direction of his enemies, just to keep them from coming out of hiding. Then he scrambled down the fire escape, ran south between the greenhouses, and to the ladder leaning up against the inside of the fence on the south side of the compound. He shouldered his weapon and fairly ran up the ladder, dropping down to the other side and turning his ankle as he did so. He heard bullets hitting the fence behind him as he hobbled away to safety.

     John had been standing at the entry to the secret tunnel and watching through the open doorway. He was waiting for Bryan to bolt from his firing position and run toward him.

     Instead, Bryan ran south, toward the wall of the compound where the initial assault was made. He was intentionally drawing fire away from the tunnel entrance, so that the marauders didn’t see how the rest of the group had escaped.

     John muttered, “Damnit!”

     He knew he and Bryan were the last two in the compound. He hoped that Bryan made it over the fence to safety. He went to the tunnel, shut the secret entrance, and bolted full sprint through the tunnel and to the mine.

     In the mine, chaos reigned. Bryan was the electrician and was still out there somewhere. Maybe even dead, for all they knew. Without Bryan around to get the lights back on, it fell to Mark, stumbling around in the dark, trying to get the generator cranked up.

     Most of the group was still huddled around the tunnel’s entrance to the mine. Many were crying. And all were terrified.

     David was a dentist by trade. Debbie had been an EMT. Together, they treated Sami for shock and assessed her wound. Brad was at her side, holding her hand and trying his best to comfort her.

     He was in the way, but neither David nor Debbie had the heart to tell him to stand aside. So they worked around him instead.

     John made his way up the wooden stairs and into the mine just as the generator started up and the lights came on. Sarah was expecting Bryan to be with John. When she saw that he wasn’t, she screamed in panic.

     “Where’s Bryan? Where is he?”

     John ran through the mine toward the control center, shouting over his shoulder, “He ran for the south wall. He’s still out there!”

     At the control center, John turned on the computer that drove the video surveillance system.

     Still out of breath, he managed to tell Mark, “Your brother’s still out there, making his way to the mine. Go to the main entrance, but don’t open it until I give you the all clear.”

     Mark started toward the door, and John stopped him.

     “Here, you may need this.”

     Mark turned around and John tossed him the AR-15.

     Mark sprinted through the four insulation bays that separated the main entrance from the main part of the mine.

     John watched the monitors as they slowly came to life, one at a time. It was an agonizing process. Finally, monitor one came on, and he could see Bryan stumbling toward the mine from eighty yards away.

     “Okay, Mark, he’s coming, but he appears to be injured. Go help him. Sarah, get to the doorway and secure it as soon as they come in. David and Debbie, get ready. You’ve got another casualty coming in.”

     John had assumed that Bryan had suffered a gunshot wound. He actually just twisted his ankle when he climbed over the wall and jumped to the ground below. But it was still enough of an injury to slow him down.

     On the monitor, John saw Mark sprint across the open field to intercept his brother. Bryan threw his arm over Mark’s shoulder and the two made their way as quickly as they could to the safety of the mine.

     Sarah slammed the door closed behind them and slid the heavy metal bar in place to secure it.

Chapter 40

     Sami was moved to the two room clinic as soon as she was stable, and was placed on a hospital bed. Debbie administered an IV and hooked up a bag of saline solution, then gave her some morphine for the pain. The morphine was seven years old, and she didn’t know how potent it was. But she knew that the human mind was the most powerful ally when it came to pain management. She didn’t tell Sami that the morphine might not work. She would monitor the patient and hope for the best.

     David started tending to her wound.

     “The only local anesthetic I have is Mepivicaine. It’s what I used for my dental patients,” he said as he made several injections around the wound. “But if it works to deaden your gums, it should also work to deaden the nerves around the wound. Let me know if you want me to back off and give you some more.”

     It turned out that the Mepivicaine was quite effective. Sami couldn’t feel a thing as David stitched up her wounds. The exit wound was larger than the entry, because as the bullet tore through her collarbone it carried some jagged pieces of bone with it. The bone fragments ripped the muscle on the back of her shoulder.

     He’d pulled a lot of children’s teeth over the years, and sewing up gums in the back of tiny mouths made David pretty good at making tiny sutures in tight places. He was able to repair a torn vein and a torn muscle before sealing off the exit wound. He also put a small drainage tube in place to channel the seepage and help keep the swelling down.

     Sami was conscious during the entire procedure, but had to throw up once when the nausea overcame her. She asked for a couple of shots of whisky, but neither Debbie nor David thought that was a good idea.

     Sami protested.

     “But they do that in all the old cowboy movies whenever the town Doc is sewing up a patient.”

     “Yeah, maybe. But what the old cowboy movies don’t tell you is that most of the time, those town Doc’s patients wound up dying.”

     In lieu of the whiskey, Sami squeezed Brad’s hand throughout the procedure. A couple of times she squeezed so hard his fingers turned purple, but he either didn’t notice or chose not to complain.

     “Now you have something to brag about, Sami. You can show off your bullet wounds to your children and grandchildren and say you were in the midst of a ferocious battle.”

     She managed to chuckle.

     “Battle my ass. I went to smell the blossoms on the apple trees, got shot, and fell right down into the dirt. Nothing glamorous or heroic about that.”

     “But you survived. That’s what counts.”

     “How’s Bryan doing?”

     “We think okay. He’s in a lot of pain, but I don’t think the ankle’s broken. I’m going to put it under my portable x-ray machine as soon as we’re finished here. My guess is he’ll be on crutches for a few days and then will be fine.”

     “Do you think they’re coming after us?”

     “John and Mark are out there watching the monitors from the compound. John took the cable and turned off the computer before he bugged out, so the security station in the compound is dead. But the cameras are still working, and they’re also wired into the mine’s security console. So John and Mark are able to see everything they’re doing over there. In all likelihood, they don’t even know they’re being watched.”

     “What are they doing?”

     “Mark said they’re just going through the place, basically looting it and pigging out on our food stores and fresh fruit. He said they’d let us know if anything changed, but I think the threat is over for now. They got what they came for. They chased us out of our compound and took it over.”

     “Do we have enough supplies to live in the mine again?”

     “Oh, yes. Remember, we planned for something like this to happen. We still have our diesel fuel and water stores, and we left all of our MREs over here. I’m sure it won’t take long to get tired of the MREs, but they’ll keep us alive.”

     “Thank God we didn’t lose anybody.”

    “Yes, indeed. Now, I’m prescribing two days of bed rest for you, right here, so I can monitor your vitals. I’m tempted to double up on your antibiotics, since they’re out of date, but I don’t want to overdo it. So I’m going to draw your blood once a day to keep a close eye on your white blood cells. The morphine seems to be working, so we’ll keep you on it for the next two days. Then we’ll talk about whether you get to take it any longer than that. We’re only going to give you liquid foods for twenty four hours, and then we’ll play it by ear. Any questions?”

     “Yes. Can Brad stay here with me?”

     “Well, the bed’s not big enough for two, but if he wants to wrestle a mattress or a cot in here and lay next to you, I don’t see anything wrong with that.

Chapter 41

     Alvarez took charge of the bunch of thugs at the compound. With Skully dead and Marky Mark mortally wounded, there just happened to be an opening in the leadership position.

     Alvarez stepped forward to fill the void. He’d hated Skully for as long as he could remember. Considered him a poser and a braggart. He definitely wouldn’t be missed.

     After he posted two men to guard the gate, the rest of the crew went into the main building to execute the men and children. They’d also decide which women to leave alive for their own personal needs, and shoot the rest.

     Considering the resistance they’d encountered thus far, they expected a fight every step of the way.

     John and Hannah had been the last two out of the building and the door closed and locked behind them.

     But a locked door wasn’t a problem. Alvarez shattered the glass and reached inside to depress the panic bar while he laid down fire down the hallway at the same time.

     Room by room, floor by floor, they searched the building.

     “It’s empty. They all got away.”

     They’d seen one man climbing up a ladder on the south side of the compound and scampering over the wall. As they looked around the compound, they saw similar ladders set up on all three of the other walls.

     “That must be how they escaped. They all climbed over the walls while we were busting down the gate. They’re probably miles away by now, running like scared little rabbits.”

     “No,” Alvarez grumbled. “They put too much work into this place to give up on it. They’ll be back. But we’ll be ready for them.”

     Alvarez was a hulk of a man. He’d played football in college at Texas Tech University. Some said he was in the running for the Heisman Trophy. But then he screwed up. Got high at a party and insisted he was okay to drive home.

     But he wasn’t. He broadsided a church van on its way to church and killed four people.

     Lubbock, Texas didn’t play. Especially when someone killed its little old ladies on their way to church.

     They’d thrown the book at Alvarez. Gave him forty two years. The judge said he wouldn’t even be eligible for parole until he was forty years old.

     And he fumed. He figured those old ladies were all due to die soon anyway. Yes, he’d made a mistake. But he shouldn’t have to forfeit his whole life because of it.

     He grew sullen and kept to himself. He earned a reputation as a surly bastard with a chip on his shoulder. And it suited him well.

     Alvarez had no friends in prison. Not one of his current crew even knew his first name. But as a convict, he didn’t really need a first name. Or friends, for that matter. He had something better. He had the respect that one earns in prison by keeping to himself and not taking any crap from others. Every time he clashed with guards or other inmates, his rep as a tough guy grew.

     And now, he was in charge. And no one else was willing to question his authority. They would follow his orders without question or hesitation.

     “Alvarez, what do we do about Marky Mark?”

     “Drag him to the back of the place and set him on fire before he starts to stink.”

     “But, he’s asking for you.”

     “I thought he was dead.”

     “No. I mean, I think he’s close to it. But he’s asking for you. Wants you to find him a doctor.”

     “Shit. I’ve got a better idea.”

     Alvarez went to the broken down gate, where two guards stood with weapons at the ready behind the Humvee. Mark lay on the ground, a dazed look in his eyes, his mouth foaming blood.

     Alvarez stood over him and said “You should have got out of the way, you fool.”

     Mark struggled mightily to get a single word out.

     “Please…”

     Alvarez took his handgun and fired a single shot into Marky Mark’s forehead.

     “There. Now you look like a dead rapper, you son of a bitch.”

     He turned to the others and said coldly, “Shoulda moved faster.”

     He noticed that several of the men were following him around, unsure what to do.

     “You two guys, get the Hummer out of the entrance. Put Skully on the same burn pile as Rapper Boy. Go out in the field and get those other two bodies too. Put them all on the pile and find some gasoline to dump on ‘em. Then burn the bastards.”

     The two he pointed at scampered off to fulfill their mission.

     “Did we leave any ladders out front?”
     “No, they’re all here.”

     “Good. I don’t want to make it too easy on them when they come back. You two, get up on the roof of this building. Get on opposite corners so each of you can see in two different directions. Shoot anything that moves out there. Don’t come down until somebody relieves you. And if you fall asleep you die. Got it?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “Okay, the rest of you, stand that gate back up. Drive the pickup against it to hold it into place. Then report to me for your next assignment.

     “You two guards… you stay here until you’re relieved. You fall asleep on guard duty and I’ll shoot you myself.”

     Alvarez had taken charge. He considered himself the conquering general. This compound was the spoils of war. They’d captured it fair and square, and now it was theirs. And woe be anyone who tried to take it away from them.

     He took a head count. He had twelve men left. It would be enough to hold the compound, unless the original owners came back with an army. And even then, he’d have the upper hand. It was much easier defending such a place than it was attacking it.

     Now that each member of his crew was gainfully employed, Alvarez went to the kitchen, made himself a sandwich, and propped his feet atop one of the dining room tables.

     It was nice being the general.

Chapter 42

     Alvarez didn’t know his every move was being closely watched.

     In the mine, Mark, Hannah and John shared space at the security console, and watched Alvarez take a bite from his sandwich. They hated this man for what he and the others had done to them. And they would get even. They didn’t know how yet. But they’d figure something out.

     Mark noticed that in the background, over Alvarez’ left shoulder, the blacked out monitors at the security desk were visible.

     “I’m glad you turned off the monitors, John. Hopefully it’ll never dawn on them that we’re watching. Did you log off the computer too?”

     “Yes. And I did one better.”

     He took the cable from his pocket and placed it on the desk in front of Mark. It meant nothing at all to Hannah, and she gave John a puzzled look. Mark understood its significance immediately and laughed.

     He told Hannah, “If they try to get the computer back on, they’ll have a hell of a time breaking into it. The password is a mile long. But even if they have a computer guru who’s able to get in, the monitors still won’t work without that cable.

     “And that gives us a distinct advantage. We can see them, but they can’t see us.”

     Before Saris 7 hit the earth, Mark installed surveillance systems for a living. Security was his game, and he was good at it. After he set up the systems in the mine and the compound and wired everything together, he took another step he never told anyone about.

     And it was such a minor detail, no one ever noticed.

     Hannah asked him, “What if the notice the cameras and break them, or put bags over them or something?”

     “Well, they might. But I doubt it. See, most surveillance cameras have a red light that shines when the power is on. Sometimes they flash, sometimes they’re steady. But it’s like a big neon sign that says, ‘hey, you’re being watched.’

     “But I took the bulbs out of all the cameras in the compound. They’re all actively working, but they look as dead as the monitors. I’m hoping they think the whole system is down.”

     “Wow! So you foresaw this whole thing?”

     “I knew it was a possibility. I didn’t want to alarm anyone. But in the security game, you always take a step back and try to figure out what might happen and then take measures to counter it. That’s the same reason we planted explosives in the tunnel. If they had chased us, we could have collapsed the tunnel right on top of them.”

     John said, “Speaking of security, we need to get everyone together for a meeting. Let’s do it here, at the security desk, after dinner. We should consider ourselves at war now, and we need to take extra precautions.”

     “Okay. I’ll make an announcement at dinner, for everyone to assemble here after they finish eating.”

     “And something else bothers me too.”

     “What’s that, John?”

     He pointed to the monitor that still showed Alvarez, now enjoying a piece of Helen’s fresh baked zucchini bread.

     Over Alvarez’ shoulder, on the now vacant security desk at the compound, John pointed out a radio they’d left behind.

     “We need to keep everyone off the radio for the time being. I think that may be the one Sarah dropped and broke last week. But we need to maintain radio silence, at least until we inventory the radios and make sure no more are missing.”

     After dinner the group assembled around the security desk. Debbie briefed everyone on the status of her patients. Sami was sleeping peacefully and would fully recover. Bryan’s ankle was sprained, but not broken. He’d be hobbling around on crutches for a few days, but would be fine after that.

     John said, “I know you’re all worried about what this bunch will do in the future. I want to put your minds at ease to a limited degree. For now, at least, they appear to be happy that they’ve chased us out of the compound, and seem to be making themselves at home over there. They’ve already discovered the cache of wine and whiskey that Mark had stashed in the back of the food storage room, and have sampled both of them.

     “They have posted guards at the gate and on the roof, though. They might think that we’re going to make an attempt to take back what’s ours. And they’re right about that. But we’ll do it on our own time, when we decide to do it. And it won’t be soon. We’ll wait until our wounded heal, and until they get complacent over there.

     “Mark, Hannah, Sarah? Do you have anything to add?”

     Mark took over.

     “Like John said, there are no indications they are going to attack us again. In fact, they probably don’t have a clue where we are. They’ve probably seen the ladders we posted on the inside of the wall, and they probably assume we’ve scattered into the woods. But since we placed a ladder on all four walls, they won’t know which direction we went. So we want everyone to relax and to consider yourselves safe for now.

     “We need to know who has radios with them. We know we left at least one behind. We believe it is broken, and of no use to them. But if there are any more missing, we’ll have to stop using the radios until I can reprogram them all. We don’t want them to find a radio and start monitoring it. They probably couldn’t pick up anything on it now, but later on when we go outside to take the compound back we don’t want them hearing what we say.”

     John read off a radio inventory list that was always maintained at the security desk.

     As he called out the names of people who were assigned radios, they affirmed one by one that their radios were still working and still in their possession. None were unaccounted for or missing, except for the broken one left in the compound.

     “Good. That’s one less thing to worry about. For the time being, we should consider ourselves on a wartime footing. You men and women who have been trained on the use of side arms, we want you to wear them in case they figure out where we are and decide to attack us. We want everyone to stay away from the front entrance. The steel overhead door will not stop bullets. We’re going to fortify it today with several layers of plywood and sandbags that will. We’re also going to post armed guards at the entrance and at the tunnel”

     Mark added, “Right now our best ally is the camera system over there. It’s still working, and we don’t think they realize that they’re being monitored. As long as they don’t figure it out, that gives us a big advantage. We can see them and they can’t see us. So if they do figure out where we are and decide to attack, we should have plenty of warning. We should be able to see them coming in plenty of time to prepare, and that’ll take away their element of surprise.”

     He looked at Hannah and Sarah.

     “You girls got anything to add?”

     Hannah spoke first.

     “Right now we’ve got everything we need to survive over here. The RVs we used to live in are just like we left them. We still have water, and power, and food. And most importantly, we have each other. We were lucky not to have lost anybody. It’ll be tough, but we’ll get through this. This is no worse than our first days in the mine. We made it then, and we’ll make it now.”

     Sarah looked at Mark and shook her head. She didn’t have anything to add.

     John finished up.

     “We’ve never used the panic button, and I’m not going to demonstrate it right now. The kids have been through enough. It sounds like a fire alarm, and it’s activated right here, from the security desk. If it looks like we’ll be coming under attack, we want you women and children to evacuate to the back of Bay 12. There are a lot of stacks of pallets and supplies and stuff back there where you can hide. As soon as it appears they’re going to leave the compound, we will hit the panic button and give you as much time as we can to get to the back of Bay 12. Then our shooting team will don night vision goggles and we’ll kill the lights. If they’re coming in here after us, we want the advantage on our side. Any questions?”

     There were none.

     Sarah elbowed Hannah and nodded toward Rachel and Roxanne, who were holding each other at the corner of the group. They both looked absolutely terrified.

     “What went on today probably brought back memories of the day their dad was killed. I want to spend some time with them to try to comfort and calm them. Let me know if you need me.”

Chapter 43

     John wasn’t finished. Not just yet.

     “I need some volunteers to fill sandbags and build the barricades. Anyone willing to help please stay behind.”

     No one left, leading John to smile and say, “Oh, I just love it when people volunteer.”

     He sent the strongest of the volunteers to the wood storage area in the back of Bay 17 to gather plywood and two by fours and haul them to the main entrance. They’d taken both of their forklifts to the compound when they evacuated the mine. A tactical error, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

     They did have two utility vehicles that they’d used before to collect gray water from the RVs and transfer it to the water treatment plant. Essentially golf carts, they were made by the Cushman Company and had small pickup-like beds on the back. They could balance six sheets of half inch plywood on the back of each cart without weighing it down too much to move.

     The lifters would ferry the lumber and plywood to the main entrance of the mine, where they’d use it to build a wall across the overhead door. The wall would be eight sheets of plywood thick, a total of two inches of pressed wood. If that didn’t stop the bullets, a layer of sandbags stacked on the inside of the wall would.

     “Where are the sandbags, Mark? I know we have two pallets of them. I saw them on your annual inventory list.”

     “They’re in the back of Bay 17, just past the stacks of plywood. It’s dark back there, because we didn’t light that part of the bay, but I’ll push a rolling ladder over there and add a couple of bulbs. Each of the pallets has four hundred empty bags on it. That should be plenty after we fill them up.”

     Sarah said, “Pardon me for asking a dumb question, but where are we going to get sand to put in the bags?”

     “We’re taking a road trip to the beach.”

     “I’m serious, smartass.”

     “Oh, sorry. We don’t actually have sand. But it so happens we have a mountain of loose salt, in Bay 24, where we dug the tunnel. Salt actually has more density than sand, so it should do a very effective job in stopping bullets.”

     John said, “Okay, you lifters load up a few bundles of empty sandbags and take them to the salt mound in Bay 24. Then you can ferry the lumber and plywood to the wall builders at the main entrance. By the time you get everything there, there should be a good supply of filled bags for you to start hauling.

     “Mark, would you head up the hauling crew?”

     “Sure thing, John.”

     Hannah spoke up.

     “I’ll head up the filling crew.”

     “Thank you, dear. I’ll head up the building crew, since I’m the only one here who can hammer a nail in straight. Bryan, since you’re crippled and damn near worthless, would you mind sitting here and watching the monitors?”

     Bryan smiled.

     “I’d be happy to, John.”

     “Okay, everybody else latch on to whatever team you want to work with. We’ll need a volunteer to help with the little ones since we’ll have a lot of activity going on.

     “You weapons carriers, keep them on safe unless we get an indication from Bryan that trouble is imminent. Those of you who have radios, be sure the volume is up and the batteries are fresh.

     “Everybody knows what to do if they hear the alarm go off?”

     He looked around. Everyone shook their heads.

     “Okay, let’s get this done.”

     Mark’s hauling crew finished moving all the plywood and lumber within two hours and the wall was completed a couple of hours after that. The sandbags took a bit longer. Because of the weight, they could only be moved a dozen at a time. It took most of the evening to get a four foot wall of sandbags built, and everyone was exhausted by that time.

     The crew broke for the night to get some much needed rest, and John asked for volunteers to stay up a little longer for the security detail.

     “Okay, I know that no one wants to hear this, but I need three other people to stand guard with me tonight. I don’t expect anything to happen, unless those thugs over there had backup in the woods that we don’t know about. But it’s better to be safe than sorry. I’d like to have a four man shift pull guard duty until oh four hundred, and four more to get up then to replace us.”

     Sarah asked, rather meekly, “Um, John… what’s oh four hundred, for us people who don’t speak military?”

     “Four a.m.”

     “Okay, then. I’m good until then. I’ll stay up with you.”

     Bryan said he’d continue to man the desk and Brad agreed to stay up as well.

     Everyone else dragged themselves to their RVs for some much needed rest. It had been a very long day, and they were all anxious for it to end.

Chapter 44

     Alvarez walked through the big house, mostly out of curiosity. But he was also on the hunt. Many years of sitting in a prison cell with practically nothing to his name gave him a propensity to want things he couldn’t have. It had become a habit, therefore, since Saris 7 hit the earth and he was unceremoniously released from prison with all the others, to always be on the lookout for things to loot.

     As he walked down the main hallway of the first floor, he couldn’t help but notice that all of the apartment doors were unlocked. A couple of them were even propped open.

     He couldn’t believe that such a society even existed anymore. A society so trusting was almost beyond comprehension to Alvarez. He’d remembered that as a kid, growing up in Lubbock, Texas, he visited his grandmother on Colgate Street before and after Sunday church service.

     His abuela never locked her house. She told him that was the way she was brought up. That in the barrios of her youth, neighbors didn’t steal from one another. They watched out for each other, and protected their neighbors.

     When she moved into a nursing home, just before she died, his parents put the house up for sale. And they had to change the locks on the doors. The doors had been left unlocked for so many years nobody could find the keys.

     But in prison, everything was subject to theft.

     No one stole from Alvarez, of course. They were afraid to. He had a reputation for once beating a man near death for stealing a tube of toothpaste, and no one wanted to incur his wrath.

    Rather, it was Alvarez himself who did most of the stealing. He knew few souls were brave enough to call him out.

     He walked inside Hannah and Mark’s apartment. Hannah happened to be manning the security desk while Bryan hobbled off to use the bathroom, and she cringed at what she saw on the monitor. The camera only caught activity in the hallway. Once Alvarez went inside her apartment, she lost sight of him and didn’t have a clue what he was doing.

     She felt violated by this strange man. And she hated not only him, but the feeling as well.

     Hannah cringed even more when she saw him stick his head out the door and call out to his henchmen. Without audio, she had no clue what he told them. But he appeared to be calling them into her apartment to look at something. Three men came walking down the hallway and disappeared within her apartment and out of her view.

     She became even more concerned. That was their home. Hers and Mark’s and little Markie’s. It was their sanctuary. What in the world could these barbarians find so interesting there, and how dare they just barge in like they owned the place?

     She picked up her radio.

     “Mark, are you busy?”

     “No. I’m not busy at all. I just got Little Sailor to sleep and I’m waiting for you to come back to the RV. Why?”

     “Do you think he’ll be okay if you came by here for a few minutes?”

     “Where’s ‘here’?”

     “At the security desk. I want to show you something.”

     “Okay. He’s out like a light. I’ll be there in a minute.”

     Mark arrived at the security desk about the same time Bryan returned, and Hannah showed them the monitor where Alvarez and the other men had disappeared into their apartment.

     “They’ve been in there for about fifteen minutes now. Four of them. One went in alone, and then came out and called in the other three. What on earth could they be doing in our home?”

     Mark was as puzzled as she was.

     And then Hannah felt a slight panic.

     “Mark, tell me you didn’t leave your computer on.”

     “It’s always on. Why?”

     “Those photos you took of me on our honeymoon. You know, those photos. Are they on your computer?”

     He knew he was in hot water.

     And he also knew he couldn’t lie to her. She always saw right through him when he tried. And knowing he tried always made her angrier.

     Bryan interrupted.

     “You have naked pictures of Hannah and you never shared them with me? I would have shared Sarah’s with you.”

     Hannah and Mark, in perfect harmony, said, “Shut up, Bryan.”

     She saw the look on her husband’s face and said, “Oh, Mark. You told me you’d destroy those when the baby was born. I trusted you to do that.”

     “I’m sorry, honey. They were such great photos. I just couldn’t bear to trash them. And Markie knows he’s not allowed on my computer. He’s never seen them and never will. You know that.”

     “Mark, it’s not Markie seeing them that I’m worried about. How could you?”

     “I’m sorry, honey. But they’re nothing to be ashamed of. You put any model to shame. They’re beautiful. Much too beautiful to just discard like yesterday’s garbage.”

     She was livid.

     “When we get back over there… when we go back home, I want you to destroy those things. I want there to be no trace of them. No ghost files, no backups. Nothing. I swear, as God is my witness, if you don’t get rid of them once and for all I will strangle you with my bare hands.”

     He looked at her and felt like a chastised little boy. She was bright red, both from embarrassment and from rage. And he didn’t know if she was more outraged at the men ogling over her photographs, or at her husband for allowing them the opportunity to.

     “I trusted you, Mark. You let me down.”

     “I know, honey. I’m sorry. And you have my word, I will destroy all traces of them as soon as we get back.”

     At that precise moment three of the four men came out of the couple’s apartment and disappeared down the hallway and out of the camera’s view. They appeared to be in good spirits, and Hannah tried not to wonder why.

     But Hannah was wrong.

     She’d assumed that the four men were ogling over risqué photographs of her that her husband had taken years before on their honeymoon.

     In reality, Alvarez had stumbled across a home video of Hannah playing with the basset hound she owned when she and Mark started dating. Alvarez was captivated by Hannah’s beauty, yes. But he was more captivated by the dog. For it reminded him of a dog he had when he was a boy, before he grew up and his life turned to shit. Everything about the dog, from the way his ears dragged the ground as Hannah chased him through the grass, to the way he waddled when he walked, to the markings on his head and body… they all reminded him of his dog Max.

     And in a very rare display of humanity, Alvarez suddenly felt a need to show some of the others this dog, and to express his memories of his own pet, at another place and time. A place and time that wasn’t so harsh as the present.

     The three men who were summoned were just glad not to be chewed out for something they did wrong. They let Alvarez talk, and would let him continue as long as he wanted to. Seeing this unknown, gentler side of their leader was a much better scenario that dealing with him at his worst.

     Alvarez made an announcement to the others that this was his new home. This was his apartment, and his bed, and the others were to stay the hell out of it.

     Once he felt secure enough to get some rest, he’d fall asleep watching a beautiful young girl and a memory from his past frolic together in the tall grass of an unfamiliar city park.

     It would be only a brief respite from the harsh reality of an ugly world, he knew.

     But he also knew his days could be numbered, and he had to take such opportunities as they came.

     He understood that most of his crew thought him a heartless bastard. He’d actually intended it that way. In prison, one had to appear tough in order to survive. People preyed on the weak.

     In a prison setting, there are two codes to live by. One is the prison code. Convicts more or less follow the rules of the prison because they have no choice. Privileges are few enough as it is. Failure to follow the rules results in even them being taken away.

     But there’s a second code that must also be followed. The convict’s code. It’s a set of unwritten laws that must be obeyed. And when they’re not, retribution is often more swift and more severe than anything the hacks can dish out.

     Rule number one in the convict code is that only the strong survive. And only the strongest thrive.

    Alvarez thrived in such an environment because he never showed mercy. No one knew he had a softer side. They feared him. And they respected him. In prison, the two were closely intertwined.

     He ensured the lookouts were relieved at midnight and went back to Hannah and Mark’s apartment to grab some sleep. He put the video on repeat and watched it as he lay on Hannah’s pillow, smelling the sweet scent of her shampoo lingering on the pillow case.

     And he realized he’d made a huge mistake.

     He had shown his soldiers that he had a tender side. And that just wouldn’t do.

     He couldn’t take back what he’d done, telling the men about his boyhood pet and the fun times they’d had together. But he’d make damn sure it never happened again.

     Tonight he’d sleep. Tomorrow he’d make a point to be more brutal than ever before.

Chapter 45

     Mark went to bed that night in the dog house, and woke up the same way. Hannah was especially cold to him, and it didn’t get past little Markie.

     “Daddy, did you make Mommy mad again?”

     “Yes, I’m afraid so, little sailor.”

     “Don’t worry. She won’t be mad long. She loves you. Even when she’s mad.”

     “I know. But thanks for reminding me. You’re pretty smart for a six year old. You know that?”

     “Yep. I know.”

     Hannah walked over to see if Markie was dressed for school.

     “Markie says you shouldn’t be mad at me, ‘cause you love me.”

     “I can love you and be mad at you at the same time. I am very good at multi-tasking.”

     “Yeah, well I can stand on my head and juggle chainsaws at the same time too. Just because you can do two things at once doesn’t always mean it’s a good idea.”

     “I’ll tell you what. You show me how you can juggle chainsaws and I’ll stop being mad at you. But they have to be on and I get to sharpen the blades first.”

     “Ouch. Harsh.”

     “Baby, you let me down. I asked you to do something important and you didn’t. You have to allow me my time to be mad. You know I’ll get over it, but I have to go through the process first. And you can’t deny me of it.”

     “I suppose I don’t get kisses until you’re finished being mad?”

     “No. While I’m mad, Markie gets all my kisses.”

     Markie giggled.

     “And I suppose I shouldn’t even ask about all that other stuff?”

     “Not unless you want to make me madder.”

     Mark looked at his son and asked, “What do you think, Markie? Should I make her any madder?”

     “That’s probably not a good idea, Dad.”

     “Well, can I at least go to breakfast with you guys?”

     Now Hannah consulted Markie.

     “Should we let him eat breakfast with us, little sailor?”

     “Of course. He’s my dad. Duh…”

     Hannah gave Mark her best stern look.

     “Okay. But you have to walk two steps behind us on the way over there.”

     The three walked to the mine’s dining room to find the kitchen closed down and six cases of MREs on one of the tables. They’d left a limited amount of supplies behind when they vacated the mine. Luckily, one of them was coffee. It wasn’t as fresh as anyone liked it, but no one complained. Slightly stale coffee was better than no coffee at all.

     The mood was somber on this particular morning. Those who hadn’t realized the day before how close they’d all come to being killed had had a chance to think about it during the night.

     And they all realized how really lucky they all were.

     Even Sami, the only gunshot casualty, realized that if the shot had been a few inches to her left, she wouldn’t have survived.

     The chilling dose of reality that had finally set in during the previous few hours, and the fact that everyone was stiff and sore from the previous day’s physical labor left most of the group in surly moods.

     But not everyone.

     Bryan came into the dining room on crutches and hobbled over to the table where the three were having their breakfast.

     “Good morning. What kind of delicacies are you three enjoying this fine morning?”

     Hannah said, “Chicken a’la King. You want some? Seriously. The more you eat, the less I have to.”

     Mark said, “I’m not sure what this is, but I think it was food in a previous life.”

     Bryan looked at Markie.

     “I have scrambled eggs, Uncle Bryan. Do you want a taste?”

     “No thanks, little guy. Actually, I’m not hungry. I just came by to ask your father if he wanted to trade some of his pictures for some of mine.”

     He managed a smile, not sure if he was going to get a laugh or a punch in the face.

     Hannah and Mark said, at more or less the same time, “Shut up, Bryan.”

     Little Markie took exception.

     “Hey, you told me it’s not nice to tell people to shut up.”

     “Well, that’s true, little man. But it’s okay for big people to tell Uncle Bryan to shut up because, well, Uncle Bryan isn’t really a people.”

     “Sure he is.”

     “No. Seriously. Your Uncle Bryan was born on the planet Imbecile. So he’s kind of an alien, not a people.”

     Markie’s eyes grew as big as saucers, but he cast his mother a suspicious glance. He wasn’t sure if he was being had.

     “Are you sure?”

     “Yep. I’m sure. And he even has green blood instead of red.”

     “Really?”

     “Yep. And if he ever says the word ‘pictures’ again in my presence I’ll prove it to you.”

     Mark looked at the clock and said, “It’s time for you to go off to school, little man.”

     “But my books and backpack aren’t here. They’re over at our other place.”

     “That’s okay. I’m sure that Miss Karen has extras over here you can use for now.”

    “Daddy, when can we go back? I don’t like it over here anymore.”

     Mark struggled with an answer, but his brother came to the rescue.

     “Come on, Markie. I’ll walk to school with you. But you’ll have to walk slow so I can keep up.”

     “Okay. Deal.”

     He kissed his Mom goodbye and gave Mark a hug, then went off to school.

     Hannah waited until Markie and Bryan were out of sight before she gave her husband a stern warning.

     “I know Bryan, and I know he will be bugging you for copies of those photos before you delete them. Just be aware that if you share them with him, and I ever find out, I will never speak to you again.”

     “By never speaking to me again, that means no more yelling at me?”

     “That means no more of anything.”

     “Anything?”

     “Anything.”

     “Ouch. In that case, you have my solemn promise.”

Chapter 46

     Alvarez awoke that morning to the same video playing on the monitor. It had been on repeat all night long, playing over and over again.

     He stopped it. He’d done enough living in the past. It was time to get back to the present.

     It was time to reestablish his reputation as a hardass. To fix whatever damage he’d done the evening before by letting some of his crew get a glimpse at his softer side.  

     He got up, stretched, and tried to check on his crew.

     “Demos, this is Alvarez. What’s up at the gate?”

     No answer.

     “Demos, this is Alvarez. Come in.”

     Nothing.

     It never dawned on Alvarez that his radio might be dead. The only thing that occurred to him was that Demos had his own radio turned off or was sleeping on the job.

     He rushed out to the gate to find out which, and to beat the crap out of Demos.

     “Hey, what’s up, boss?”

     “Why the hell didn’t you answer your radio?”

     “The radios are all dead, man. They started going out one by one during the night.”

     “Why didn’t somebody wake me?”

     “We figured there was nothing you could do. And we figured you needed your rest after all the crap that went down yesterday.”

     “That wasn’t your decision to make, ChoMo. I said to wake me up if anything went wrong.”

     The truth was that nobody had the guts to wake up Alvarez.

     Another truth was that no matter what Demos had done, it would have been wrong in Alvarez’ eyes. Alvarez didn’t like Demos. Despised him, in fact.

     Mark Demos, and the other man with him guarding the gate, were convicted child molesters. In a prison hierarchy, child molesters are called ChoMos by the other prisoners. They are on the lowest rung of the ladder, abused by convicts and prison guards alike.

     And these two, Demos and Joe Warren, were hated by everyone.

     Alvarez wasn’t even sure why they hadn’t been killed long before. For some reason, Skully had taken a liking to both of them and had taken them under his wing. They’d been on Skully’s crew for so long everyone else was used to having them around. But that didn’t make them any more welcome. They were still, and always would be, outcasts.

     Alvarez was tempted to just blow them away himself, to cleanse their ranks. But now wasn’t a good time. He needed all the bodies he could get, to ward off the attack he was sure was coming. And these two ChoMos, while they weren’t much good for much else, could pull guard duty and shoot.

     So he’d let them live a little longer. But he wouldn’t tolerate any crap from them.

     Alvarez turned to go back into the building to search for radio batteries when he heard a scraping noise on the other side of the gate.

     “What the hell is that?”

     Warren laughed.

     “Oh, that’s just Steiger. He crawled all the way over here from where he got shot yesterday. Said he wants in. We’re just waiting for him to die.”

     “Open the damn gate.”

     Another thing Demos and Warren did well was follow orders. Because they were afraid not to.

     The two shoved the gate to one side and Alvarez grabbed Steiger by the shirt collar and dragged him into the yard.

     “Steiger, why are you wasting my damn time? Why haven’t you died yet?”

     The man looked up at Alvarez with glazed eyes. He tried to form words, but couldn’t get anything out. His mouth was a foamy pink, and he was slowly drowning in his own blood.

     Alvarez obviously couldn’t be bothered. He stood up and drew the Glock handgun from his holster and shot the wounded man in the forehead.

     He knew that went a long way to further his rep as a man who did not play. At least in the minds of Demos and Warren.

     But that wasn’t enough. He reholstered his handgun, stood over Steiger’s body, and relieved himself on the dead man’s face.

     As Alvarez emptied his bladder, Demos and Warren laughed. Joe Warren, in particular, giggled like a school girl, obviously enjoying the show.

     When he was finished, Alvarez growled, “Drag this piece of crap over to the burn pit with the others. Then put some gas on the bodies and set them on fire before they start to stink this place up.”

     Alvarez went through all the cabinets at the compound’s security control desk, looking for radio batteries. He found several, still in boxes marked “Motorola MX-310.” But they were for a different model of radios and were worthless to him.

     He was pissed, more at himself than anything else. He’d trusted that scumbag Skully to take care of all the details. They’d come to this place intent on taking it over, and staying here for the long term. How could they have forgotten spare batteries and a charging station for them? How the hell were they going to maintain security without radios?

     And, most importantly, why in hell did he trust somebody like Skully to plan for something like this?

     He knew he should have asked more questions. He shouldn’t have taken Skully at his word when Skully said he had a handle on everything.

     Skully couldn’t put both hands on his own ass at the same time. Yet Alvarez trusted him to be the brains of this operation.

     What else was he overlooking? What else was going to go wrong?

     He thought about sending the ChoMos back to the prison to get additional batteries and a charging unit. But then he thought better of it. He needed every body he could muster if the attack came soon. And he didn’t trust the ChoMos. If they were stopped leaving the area and taken alive, they’d sing like canaries. They’d tell their adversaries exactly how many men were in the compound and where.

     No. He couldn’t risk sending anyone back for the radios. He’d just have to win the next battle and steal some from the other side.

     He went up to the roof to check on his crew.

     “It looks like we’re going to have to operate without radios. If you see anyone, fire a single shot to let everybody else know the attack is coming. And I’ll be up here as fast as I can to help out.”

     He gave the same instructions to the ChoMos at the front gate, and to the two men patrolling the yard.

     Then he paced back and forth and waited for an assault he was sure was coming. He just didn’t know when.

Chapter 47

     Mark and Hannah walked over to the security desk. Helen was taking her turn at the console, and John was there reading the logbook entries from the night before. It was basically a rundown of things that went on with the men occupying their compound.

     Mark said, “Good morning. Anything interesting in there?”

     “No, not much. They’ve established rooftop and gate surveillance, two sentries at each location. They’ve apparently broken down into shifts. Half of them are sleeping during the daytime and half at night.

     “We’ve been able to count heads. There appear to be thirteen of them total.”

     He pointed to Alvarez on monitor 5, walking through the kitchen.

     “We believe that this is the man in charge. It appears that people keep coming to him for instructions, then leaving again.”

     “He’s a big sucker.”

     “Yes, and he’s moved into your place, by the way. That’s where he slept last night.”

     Mark and Hannah looked at each other but didn’t say anything.

     “Do tell? Well, I hope he cleans up after himself. I don’t want to have to clean up after him when we chase those creeps back out of there.”

     “Indications are that he’s a mean one. They left a wounded man on the outside. The one who was shot through the wall just before they attacked the gate. Apparently he was able to crawl to the gate looking for help and was pleading with them to let him in. The big guy had them open the gate, but instead of helping the guy the big man shot him. Then he pissed on his body. The two men guarding the gate appeared to get a kick out of that.

     “They dragged all of their dead over and threw them into the trash pit. They’re burning them all now.”

     “Nice guy.”

     “Definitely not somebody I want to hang out with.”

     “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

     “More of the same. I want to build that wall of sandbags a bit higher. Then I want to fill that bay with whatever we can find that’s heavy. They’ve already shown an affinity for crashing vehicles into things. I’m not so much worried about bullets coming through the door. The plywood and sandbags will stop those. I’m more worried about them crashing a truck through the door. Going at a high rate of speed, a truck would smash right though there. The more stuff we have in its way, the faster we can stop it.”

     “Do you really think they’d attack us over here?”

     “Probably not. For one, I don’t think they even know the mine is here. And if they did, I don’t know if they’d associate it with our hiding place. I’m hoping they think we’re all still in the woods trying to regroup.

     “But… we can’t get in that guy’s head and don’t know what he’s thinking. So we have to plan for every possibility.”

     “So, we fortify the main entry today. Anything else?”

     “Yes. Two things. We need to build a bunker at the mouth of the tunnel. More sandbags and plywood. With firing ports so we can shoot anybody coming out of the tunnel if we have to.

     “And we need to inventory our ammunition and load as much as we can into magazines. Then we need to distribute the mags to the shooters. If it gets ugly fast, we don’t want to be having to look around for ammunition. We want it to be with the people who are going to need it. And I’d like for you to be carrying Bryan’s AR-15 for the time being. Since he’s on crutches right now, he’s not much good to us in a firefight.”

     “I’ve been saying he’s not much good ever since he was a little kid.”

     Debbie walked up.

     “Good morning, you guys.”

     Hannah said, “Good morning, Deb. I was going to walk over and check on Sami. How’s she doing this morning?”

     “Oh, she’ll be okay. She’s hurting a bit. That outdated morphine is too weak to take away all the pain. It helps, but isn’t as good as newer stuff would be. And the nerves that went numb on her yesterday are starting to wake up now. That’s not helping her. Mostly she’s mad at me and David, though.”

     “Why?”

     “We told her we want to keep her in the clinic for forty eight more hours.”

     “I thought she was going to be okay.”

     “She is. She will be. But we need to be extra cautious. She lost a lot of blood. It takes time for the body to make more. In the meantime she has to be careful not to exert herself. The last thing we want is for her to get dizzy or lose her balance. She could fall on that shoulder and tear her sutures and start bleeding again.”

     “She’s a reasonable girl. She didn’t understand all of that?”

     “Oh, she understood it. She just didn’t like it. Yes, she’s reasonable. But she’s also stubborn. She knows there’s a lot going on out here and she feels bad that she’s not able to contribute.”

     “Oh, that’s not a problem. I’ll tell her I’ll lie in the hospital bed and she can fill sand bags in my place.”

     “Very funny. I did make one concession. I told her that if her blood pressure looks better tomorrow I’ll talk to John about letting her man the security desk. That’ll free someone else up, and she’ll be playing an important role.”

     “Well, I’ll go see if I can cheer her up.”

     “Thank you, Hannah.”

     “Hey, it’s what best friends do. Have you seen Sarah?”

     “Sarah’s over there with her now. They’re playing cards, and Sarah’s letting her win to brighten her spirits.”

     “Is that what Sarah told you?”

     “Yes. Why?”

     “Sarah never lets anybody win. She just sucks at cards.”

Chapter 48

     Three more days passed without incident, and both camps had settled into something of an uncomfortable routine. In the compound, it finally dawned on Alvarez that the compound and everything in it was of little value to him if they let everything die.

     So he appointed one man to do nothing but water the plants in the greenhouse, water the wheat and corn crops in the fields, and keep the chickens and livestock fed.

     It was a full time job for one man, and he quickly became the hardest working man in the compound.

     And the most scared.

     “If you let any of my cows die, or any of my chickens, you die along with them. And you’d better take good care of those strawberry plants also. Same goes for them.

     “As for those stinkin’ pigs, I don’t care if they live or die. If you have to kill something, kill them.”

     Hawkins, who took on the name “Farmer” from that point on, wasn’t sure if Alvarez was kidding or not about taking his life. But he sure wasn’t taking any chances. He not only made a valiant effort to keep everything from dying. He also picked Alvarez a bowl of fresh strawberries each morning.

     He felt he was paying homage to a king. But he’d never complain about it.

     In the mine, John, Bryan and Mark were formulating plans to take back the compound. They had the details pretty much worked out, and were mainly waiting for two things.

     First, they wanted to wait until they were back at full strength. Specifically, they needed to wait until Bryan was off his crutches and able to move around. He was one of the group’s better shots, but he needed to be mobile. And Sami, although she wasn’t a designated shooter, was also an integral part of the team. She helped in a lot of other ways, and was at a disadvantage until she was able to move quickly and keep up with everyone else.

     The group of three was sitting at a table in the dining room, discussing how disgusting their MREs were.

     John changed the subject and asked David at the next table, “When will Sami be able to run again?”

     “Well, she could run now if she had to. But that wouldn’t make it a good idea. It’s not the running that worries me. If she hit the ground again for any reason, and impacted that injured shoulder, she could rip the sutures I put in that vein and start it bleeding again. She needs another week.”

     John looked at Bryan.

     “And you? Will you be ready to go by then?”

     “Yes. I’m able to put a little bit of weight on it now. In a week I’ll be running marathons again.”

     “Well, I was hoping to go before then, but maybe it’s better we give them some time to get complacent. To think maybe we’re not coming back. That’ll put the element of surprise on our side.”

      Mark agreed, but for another reason.

      “It’s easy to see from watching the monitors that there’s a lot of tension over there, with the big guy ordering everybody around. Maybe waiting a few extra days will give them a chance to start shooting each other, and make it easier on us when we do go.”

      John got a call on the radio. It was Karen, on the security desk.

     “Hey, John?”

     “Go ahead, Karen.”

     “John, you might want to come back to the desk. We might have a problem.”

     John sprinted back, Mark right behind him. Bryan hobbled far behind them, but would get there eventually.

     “What’s up, Karen?”

     She pointed to monitor 7.

     A tractor trailer rig had stopped on Highway 83, blocking the road to the mine.

     “Do you think the trailer’s full of men? Are they going to attack us?”

     “I don’t know. It may just be a breakdown. Maybe somebody was gathering supplies and something happened to the truck.”

     Mark added, “It would be a stupid place to start an attack. They’re two hundred yards away from us. Anybody who gets out of the trailer and heads this way is out in the open. I agree with John. I think it’s just a breakdown.”

     They continued to watch the monitor for half an hour. They watched as two men exited the cab and lifted the hood on the tractor, then appeared to be working on the engine.

     Finally, one man climbed back inside the tractor and they saw black smoke coming from its exhaust pipes. The other man lowered the hood back into position and locked it into place. Then he got in the passenger side of the tractor and the rig pulled away.

     As it disappeared from view, Karen said, “I’m sorry to call you all over here on a wild goose chase.”

     “Don’t be silly,” John answered. “You did exactly what you’re supposed to do. You saw something that you thought might be a threat, so you checked it out. Don’t you dare change a thing. You feel free to call me any time you see something suspicious.”

     “I’m just on edge, John. We’ve been through a lot these past few days. And we all know that there’s more ugliness and pain coming at some point. We just don’t know when, and that’s really been getting to me.”

     “I know, dear. We’re all on edge. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and certainly nothing to apologize for. It just is what it is. And you’re doing a great job helping out here on the desk. I mean that. Some of the others might have just watched the truck and never even have called it in. And then if thirty armed man suddenly came streaming out the back of the trailer, we’d have less time to react. So, like I said, you’re doing a great job. Don’t change a thing.”

     Mark said, “You know, John, I’ve been thinking. I agree that our primary threat is a truck being driven at high speed through the front door. I think while we’re waiting for Sami and Bryan to heal, I’m going to take some of that old pipe we have in the back of Bay 18 and use a cutting torch to cut it into sharp spikes. We’ve got two pallets of Sacrete instant concrete back there too. We can spend a couple of days burying the spikes into the ground out front. That should blow the tires of any truck coming up to our door and slowing it down.”

     “Great idea, Mark. I’ll pass the word and see how many volunteers I can find you.”

     Then he turned back to Karen.

     “See, if you hadn’t called us over about that truck, Mark never would have thought about the spikes. It’s working together through all of this that will enable us to survive this thing.”

     She smiled. “Yeah, yeah. If you say so…”

Chapter 49

     Back at the compound, Alvarez was in the feed barn. He’d been surveying his stock of cattle and chicken feed when he noticed something interesting.

     There were several sets of muddy footprints that went halfway across the wooden floor and then disappeared completely. One floor panel was muddy, and the next panel was perfectly clean. And the footprints all pointed in one direction. There was no indication that anyone had turned around and left the barn again.

     Alvarez wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, by any means. But he wasn’t an idiot either.

     And he remembered that it had rained two days before they attacked the compound.

     He went to the door of the barn and yelled for two of his men who were patrolling the yard.

     “Come here. I want to show you something.”

     He pointed to the muddy footprints and asked them, “What does that tell you?”

     His men weren’t rocket scientists either.

     “I don’t know. You want us to scrape the mud off the floor?”

     “No, stupid. There’s a secret room or something under that floor.”

     “Oh.”

     Alvarez looked around and found a crowbar hanging on the wall along with some other tools.

     “You guys cover me.”

     He took the crowbar and pried up the floor panel just high enough to see the wooden steps beneath the floor. He could see more muddy footprints on the steps.

     He lowered the panel back into place and said, “So that’s where the bastards went.”

     He went back into the big house to formulate his attack plans. Once finished, he called everyone together, except for the four sentries.

     He told them about the false floor, and the staircase beneath it.

     “I don’t know if it’s a safe room, or a tunnel that leads somewhere else. It may be nothing. It may just be another escape route to the woods. Or it might lead us right to them.

     “Whatever it is, we’re going to find out, and we’re going to do it tonight. That’s when most of them will be sleeping. Six of you will come with me. The other six will stay here to keep an eye on things.

     “McMillan, Linkes, Harter… you guys are good fighters. You’re coming with me. Jason, you and Tony and Johnson, you’re in too. We’ll hit them when they’re most likely to be sleeping. You guys go get some rest. Meet me back here at three a.m., and be loaded for bear. Anybody who’s late will have my bad side to deal with. And that’s something you don’t want to contemplate.”

     Alvarez tried to get some sleep, so he’d be fresh for his night mission. He lay on Hannah and Mark’s bed for almost an hour, as things kept running through his mind. Finally, he turned on the computer on the desk next to the bed and restarted the video of Hannah playing with the dog. He thought it might relax him and help him fall asleep.

     Instead, it stirred something else inside him. The first time he’d watched the video a few nights before, his eyes were focused on the dog. This time, he noticed Hannah’s beauty. It reminded him that he hadn’t been with a woman in a very long time.

     And he found himself hoping that Hannah was one of the women who’d escaped the compound during the attack. He wanted to capture her alive and bring her back to be his personal concubine.

     At three thirty five, Sami called John on the radio.

     “Dad! Dad! Come in!”

     John reached over to the night table and picked up his radio, then turned down the volume.

     “Go ahead, baby. What’s up?”

     “Seven men have left the big house. They’re armed and heading toward the feed barn.”

     “I’m on my way. Hit the panic button now!”

     Mark, Brad and Bryan all heard the initial call and were already on their way.

     The panic button, which was in reality a fire alarm loud enough to wake the dead, woke everyone else up within seconds.

     Everyone knew what to do. They’d been drilled on it many times in previous days. All of the children and elderly adults were evacuated to a hidden part of the mine. Most of the women accompanied them. Sarah, Brad and Bryan took up positions behind a barricade at the main entrance of the mine, in case they were attacked from both positions at the same time.

     David, Mark, Jacob and Joe took up positions at the bunker overlooking the mine’s entrance to the tunnel.

     John and Sami manned the Security desk. John would coordinate operations. Sami would keep an eye on the monitors and keep everyone advised of what the enemy was doing.

     In the compound, Alvarez was briefing his crew.

     “Okay, we’ll go quietly until we start acquiring our targets. They should be mostly asleep.”

     “Shoot all the men on sight. I don’t care if they’re old or not. Even old men can carry guns. Kill all the kids also. I’m not a damn babysitter.

     “The only ones I want to keep alive are the women. If you have to kill them, do it. But try to take them alive so we can look them over and pick the ones we want to keep.

     “McMillan, you take point. We’ll give you a couple of minutes. Then we’ll follow.”

     “What’s point?”

     “You go first. You’re our best shooter.”

     They pried up the false floor and McMillan looked down on the staircase.

     “What if I don’t want to go first? If I’m first in there, I may be the first one shot.”

     Alvarez put his weapon to McMillan’s chin and growled, “And if you don’t follow orders I’ll shoot you myself.”

     “Okay, okay.”

     McMillan crawled under the raised floor panel and timidly crept down the stairs.

     The assault was beginning.

**********

Thank you for reading Breakout. It was a fun book to write. I hope it was equally fun to read. Here’s a preview of the next book in the series, called

FINAL DAWN BOOK 4:

THE SIEGE

     John and Bryan made their way through the woods on the west side of the compound on a four wheel drive Gator. The Gator was essentially a two seater quad runner on steroids, with a tiny pickup bed in the back for hauling feed, seed, manure, or anything else a farmer might need to haul. It was made by the John Deere Company as an all-terrain utility vehicle for farmers and ranchers.

     And it worked equally well for two men who were determined to get back what was taken from them.

     Strapped to the bed of the Gator were two sixteen foot extension ladders. Collapsed, they were still eight feet in length, and hung over the tailgate a considerable distance. But tie down straps kept them from going anywhere, and they only scraped the ground a couple of times when the machine climbed up the steep grades of the arroyos.

     Both men had their radios turned on and wore headsets, listening to Mark, who stood in the open doorway of the mine.

     Mark was blind to the goings on inside the compound. In fact, he couldn’t even see the compound from his position, but that was okay. His sole purpose on this mission was to relay information from Hannah.

     Hannah’s radio wouldn’t penetrate the thick walls of the mine to the outside. But they would reach to the mine’s door, and Mark’s signal would reach to the west side of the compound.

     Hannah kept her eyes on the bank of monitors, and gave a report every thirty seconds. Sometimes more often, if there was any movement.

     “Okay, two men still at the gate. One on the south side of the roof. One in the dining room, and the others are in their rooms.”

     Mark dutifully passed the information. “Two men at the gate. One on the south side of the roof. One in the dining room, the rest in their rooms.”

     Thirty seconds passed.

     Hannah reported, “No change.”

     Mark relayed, “No change.”

     Finally, John and Bryan made it to their destination. Directly ahead of them, and about fifty yards away, was the west wall of the compound. They were still in heavy brush, and could just barely make out the wall, and only because the late afternoon sun was at their backs and shone its dying beams upon it.

     John turned the Gator completely around, so that it was pointing back toward the way they’d come. They’d need every second they could to make a fast getaway.

     “Okay, we’re in position.”

     “They’re in position, Hannah.”

     “Okay. No change. Still two on the gate, one on the south side of the roof, one in the dining room, the others in their rooms.”

     Mark relayed the information, then added, “It’s a go whenever you’re ready.”

     John and Bryan waited another five minutes, until they were sure they’d have the setting sun at their backs.

     Then they carried the extension ladders across the clearing to the face of the wall, extended them, and leaned them against the wall four feet apart.

     They climbed up the ladders until they could peek over the wall. They knew the sun directly behind them would hide them from anyone looking their way. However, they thought it prudent to maintain a low profile anyway.

     From their position, they had an unobstructed view of the two guards a hundred and twenty yards away, on the opposite end of the compound.

     They took their AR-15 rifles and propped them upon the rungs of their ladders to steady them. Then they sighted in their targets.

     “I’ve got the one on the left.”

     “Okay, I’ve got the right.”

     “Let me know when you’re ready.”

     “I’m ready.”

     “Okay, three… two… one… fire.”

     Both rifle shots went off simultaneously. Both of their targets fell to the ground.

     John and Bryan dismounted the ladders and laid them down. They had served their purpose for now, so there was no need in trying to take them back.

     Within seconds they were back on the Gator and hauling ass back to the entrance of the mine, while listening to Mark’s words in their ears.

     Hannah said, “One appears to be dead. He was shot right between the shoulder blades and hasn’t moved. The other was shot in the upper chest. He’s on the ground, convulsing but still alive.”

     She paused long enough for Mark to relay the play by play to the shooters.

     Then she went on.

     “The one in the dining room has moved to the hallway and is looking out the window toward the gate. He appears to be afraid to go outside. The one on the roof is still there. Two others came out of their rooms and are now out in the hallway with the other one. I think the second man at the gate has died. He’s not moving anymore.”

     Mark passed the info onto the shooters.

     John responded, “10-4. We’re about five minutes away.”

     “10-4, John. Hannah, let me know if anything changes. John, I’ll open the door as soon as I have you in sight.”

     A few minutes later the Gator came out of the woods and Mark opened up the mine’s overhead door. David and Brad stood by with weapons at the ready during the thirty seconds the door was open. Mark reclosed it immediately after John and Bryan came speeding in and screeched to a halt.

     Mark called back to Hannah and said, “All secure. Everyone accounted for.”

     Then he gave his brother and John each a high five.

     “Two more down. Nice going, guys.”

     The two men on the Gator had each just taken a human life. But they weren’t bothered by it. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Instead of remorse or guilt, they each felt a sense of accomplishment.

     It turned out that despite their initial reservations, guerrilla warfare suited them quite nicely.

FINAL DAWN BOOK 4: THE SIEGE will be available on Amazon.com and through Barnes and Noble Booksellers in September, 2014.

**********

Please enjoy this preview of The Cleansing, available now on Amazon.com in paper and Kindle formats. Also available through Barnes and Noble Booksellers.

THE CLEANSING

     Ron Bennett was a scumbag. Not in his own eyes, of course. He thought quite highly of himself. As a former President of the United States, he was well known, and people paid him lip service and told him how great he was everywhere he went. But they did that to every former President, simply because, well, how often does the average person ever get a chance to meet one?

     So he was fawned over and made to feel special. But nearly everyone really despised him. He hadn’t been much of a President, after all. He barely squeaked into office after his predecessor finished a very successful second term and couldn’t run again. Bennett, on the other hand, tanked the economy and got the United States into a war with a former soviet bloc country for the worst of reasons. He didn’t like the dictator who ran it.

     So Bennett did what Presidents sometimes do. He misused his power and had his people develop falsified evidence, false testimony, that this nation was developing weapons capable of destroying Israel and the United States. It was all bullshit. But it’s ridiculously easy to deceive a public who doesn’t have access to the truth.

     It’s easy for a crooked politician, whose party controls both houses of congress, to mold the truth into whatever he wants it to be.

     So Bennett did that. He sent American troops into a country that had no plans to attack either Israel or the United States. And had they wanted to, they didn’t have the means to. What they did have, though, was a strong army which was fiercely loyal to its leader. Loyal enough to die for him. And they did, in vast numbers.

     The problem was, they took a lot of Americans along with them. Over 3,000 of them. America’s finest. Our sons and daughters. Dead on frozen battlefields half a world away. For nothing. Because Bennett didn’t like the man who ran that country.

     It wasn’t the first time, of course, an American President had started a war for his own ideological reasons. Or to meet his own personal agenda.

     It wasn’t until Bennett was defeated by a landslide after his first term that rumors started to circulate. And it wasn’t until the new President stopped the war and withdrew the American troops from the decimated country that inspectors discovered the extent of the fraud perpetrated on the American people.

     UN inspectors discovered no weapons of mass destruction. No nuclear capability. No chemical weapons. No biological weapons. Just millions of rifles, rocket launchers and land mines. Defensive weapons. The kinds of weapons that could be used to ward off a rich, powerful country like the United States for a certain period of time. But not to be a threat to anyone.

     And later, Bennett’s real motives became known. American Times Magazine did an extensive investigation that took two years to complete. They discovered that the whole slew of them- Bennett, his relatives, his friends, friends of friends, all had invested heavily in the defense industry in the months leading up to his taking office. Each one of them made tens of millions. So did the friends and families of the Vice President, the Chief of Staff and the Secretary of Defense. But the investments were so well hidden, so well sheltered in blind trusts and overseas reinvestments, that a final accounting was never completed.

     And there was nothing illegal about it. That’s what outraged Americans most of all. The blood money this group took in exchange for 3,000 American lives broke no rules.

    So even though individually they fawned over him, Americans as a group grew to hate this man.

     Bennett didn’t let that stop him, of course. He did what disgraced politicians always do. He went to ground, stayed on the family ranch for a couple of years, and laid low. He waited for the dust to settle, for the smoke to clear. For people to forget.

     Then he very slowly, very carefully, began to reintroduce himself to the public. He became a client of the best public relations firm in the country. They were famous for making the despicable appear tolerable. And they knew their stuff.

     They started out by scheduling his appearances at the speaking engagements of other, more popular players. Long-term congressmen who enjoyed approval ratings of over seventy percent in their districts. Senators who were considered up and comers in their political party. Philanthropists who were famous for funding children’s hospitals, or shelters for the homeless.

     And at some point during each of these events, the cameras would record his presence in the group. Because, after all, he was a former President. And with his permanent detail of four secret service agents, he tended to stick out in a crowd.

     And when asked for a comment or interview from a local television station or print reporter, he’d be careful to take the high road.

     “Oh, this isn’t about me,” he’d say. “I’m just here to celebrate the opening of this wonderful new hospital for children’s cancer patients.”

     The goal, of course, was to ease him back into the public spotlight. To make him palatable again. To encourage Americans to forget his transgressions, and bury the past. To let bygones be bygones.

     If, a little at a time, he could be seen less and less as a heartless seller of American lives, and more as a misunderstood good guy, then he’d be able to reintegrate into society. Begin sitting on boards of big corporations again. Start rolling in even more and more millions to add to his already vast fortune.

     And so it was that he came to be sitting in the audience at Mike Allen’s anniversary dinner to celebrate his fortieth year in the United States Senate. He didn’t sit at the head table, of course, although they’d offered it to him. He had a table toward the back of the banquet hall, where he could enter without much fanfare and make an early exit if the crowd appeared to be openly hostile toward him.

     And it was while sitting at this table, while Allen was in the middle of expressing his gratitude for the people who put on the event, that Ron Bennett’s heart exploded. Without warning.

     He was dead instantly, of course. As his head fell into his bowl of soup, a secret service agent was on him immediately. Shielding him from further gunshots. A second agent helped him to the floor, where he’d be a harder target. A call went out on a hidden microphone, and the two remaining agents at the exits went on alert, scanning the rafters for threats. Then the crowd.

     The first agent had the former President on the floor now, assessing his condition. He quickly determined that the President was dead. He had no respiration or pulse. His face was covered with chicken bisque soup, his eyes wide open.

     The agent knew he was dead even before his head slumped. Otherwise his reflexes would have closed his eyes as his head fell forward.

     He also quickly realized that Bennett was not felled by a bullet. There was simply no visible wound. He keyed his collar mike and turned his head to the left.

     “It looks like natural causes and he’s signal 60. Get an ambulance here quickly. No lights, no siren.”

     The cleansing had begun.

**********

If you enjoyed Breakout, you might also enjoy The Secession of Texas, available now at Amazon.com in paper and kindle formats. Also available at Barnes and Noble Booksellers.

“Darrell Maloney’s breakthrough novel, The Secession of Texas, is a must-read. Fast paced, relevant, and ripped from today’s headlines, this one will keep you spellbound.”

                        The Wall Street Journal, May 13, 2013

THE SECESSION OF TEXAS

     It had been raining on the capitol of Texas virtually non-stop for three days. Even those with the rosiest of dispositions were starting to feel the effects.

     Rick Perry stood at his office window, deep in thought. It broke his heart, knowing that his beloved state was being torn apart from within.

     The booming voice of Charlie Bennett, Perry’s Chief of Staff, interrupted the Governor’s introspection.

     “Good morning, boss. Ain’t it a damn pretty day out there?”

     “Yeah, sure, let’s go with that.” Perry said. “You got any good news this morning?”

     “Well, I heard a new conspiracy theory on the radio on my way in. You want to hear it?”

     “I can’t wait.” Perry said.

     “According to this one, we’re going to secede just so we can attach ourselves to Mexico. Become one of their territories. Wait a minute. Does Mexico even have territories? Anyway, this one is being spread by Marty Jacobs himself, and he sounds pretty convinced it’s true.”

     Marty Jacobs was a far-left winger, a radio hack who made up new garbage every day just to incense the liberals and sell advertising.

     “Yeah,” the Governor stated. “Well, you know I generally don’t give a diddly damn what Marty Jacobs thinks.”

     “You should, Rick. A lot of people take his opinions as gospel. And these days, people are so confused about where this whole thing is headed, that they’ll listen to anybody they think they can trust”

     Governor Perry propped his still-wet cowboy boots on the corner of his desk.

     “Well, the way I see it, Charlie, is that this can end one of two ways. Either we cave to the nut jobs and let them have their damn referendum, and Oscar Nevins writes in his column that I caved because I’m a spineless pushover.

     “Or, I take the hard line and delay this thing until it all blows over, and he writes that I won’t listen to the people and follow the state’s constitution.

     “So I’m kinda damned if I do and damned if I don’t”

     “That’s true enough, Rick, but he’s gonna crucify you one way or the other. And the longer you wait to take an official position, the more he’s gonna tell his readers that you’re a flip-flopper. Might as well tell him what you’re gonna do so he can move on to complaining about that instead.”

     Bennett poured himself a cup of coffee, and carried the pot over to the Governor’s desk.

     “Getting bad press in the Tribune isn’t the end of the world, you know,” Bennett said matter-of-factly as he refilled the Governor’s cup. “There are a lot of other papers, better papers, that are saying you’re in a no-win situation here.”

     “Yeah, well, that doesn’t make it any easier. They’re not the ones whose ass is hanging in the wind. And the Tribune writing such… stuff. That’s pretty much like getting booed by your own home field fans.”

     “You decided what to do yet?”

     The Governor’s only response was a glare and a brief silence. Then, “You too?”

     “Sorry, but if we’re going to give them their referendum we have to schedule it within thirty days of their petition. That’s Saturday. And I didn’t write the damn constitution, but that’s what it says.”

     The Governor put his boots back onto the floor and walked over to the window. With his back to Bennett, and while watching two pigeons pacing back and forth on his window sill trying to avoid the rain, Rick Perry made the most fateful decision of his political career.

     “Issue a press release, Charlie. Say we’re going to schedule the secession referendum for April first. That’ll bring all the loonies out for sure.”

     “Yes sir.” Bennett picked up the phone, then put it back down when the Governor started to speak again.

     “Maybe,” Perry said, “I’ll get to be President after all.”

     He turned to look at Bennett with a slight grin on his face.

     “Don’t put that in the press release.”

     Bennett chuckled and called the governor’s press secretary to schedule a meeting at ten a.m.

     Then he walked out of the office softly whistling “Hail to the Chief.”

     Rick Perry sipped his coffee, still looking out his window at the rain. It had been a rough year for him. The whole primary season, the debates, the media trying their best to make him look like a fool.

     He wasn’t normally a man who carried grudges, but there were a lot of people he learned to despise over the previous few months. And he couldn’t help it, the feelings just wouldn’t go away.

     And the phone call from Gingrich the previous afternoon certainly didn’t help much.

     “Hey, I hear y’all are just gonna saw off that big ole state of yours and float it out into the Gulf of Mexico,” Gingrich told him. “Let me know if you can get me a good price on a beachfront near Dallas, would you?”

     “Yeah, yeah, you pompous ass. Go back to building your moon colony and don’t worry about what we’re doing here in Texas.”

     Well, he didn’t actually tell Gingrich that. He wanted to, but thought it better to take the high road and just laugh off the joke even though it wasn’t funny.

     He didn’t like Gingrich much before the primaries, and learned to despise him even more during the debates. Gingrich did everything he could to make Perry look like a buffoon in front of the television audience. It was a slight he’d not soon forget.

     Perry left the window and returned to his desk, then finished what was left of his coffee. He buzzed his secretary and asked her to get Fred Marks on the phone.

     Fred was the chairman of the Republican National Committee. He deserved to know before the public did. Perry owed him that much.

     While he waited he took a pen and jotted down a list of others he needed to call before the press release hit the streets. A couple of the other governors who were close friends of his. Several of his big financial backers. His Attorney General.

     He caught himself reading the writing on his pen. “Rick Perry,” in gold letters. “Governor of Texas” in bright, bold GOP red in slightly smaller letters below the name. He wondered how much longer…

     The phone rang and jarred him back to the task at hand. It was Fred Marks.

     “Fred, you’re the first to know, but keep it under your hat as much as you can. I’m going to give them their damn vote.”