by Steven Smith
They had left Redemption and checked in on Hillmont, where they met with the on-duty security team and visited with some of the residents and were now headed to Jamestown to meet with Sean Brennan, the mechanic.
"I mean about Street."
"I think the man has seen some sadness neither one of us can imagine."
Catching himself, he looked over at Christian. "I'm sorry. Maybe you can."
Christian thought for a minute. "No, I have to think that losing your wife and kids would be harder." He shook his head. "I can't imagine that."
Jim looked over at his nephew. "You know, you were your mom and dads' greatest pleasure. I hope you have a son as good as you were so you'll know how they felt."
Christian turned his head to look out the side window, thinking about the day Jim had come to his school to tell him about his parents and take him home with him. That was the day Jim had become his second father. He wanted to say something, but he didn't think he would be able to get it out, so they rode for several miles in silence until he finally said, "I think he's a good man. I felt something in him."
Jim nodded. "Me, too."
Christian looked at him. "Do you think that experiencing tragedy is an important part of life?"
Jim thought for a moment. "I think that people can be happy without ever having experienced real tragedy, outside the normal occasional sorrows of life, but I believe that tragedy takes us to depths that allow us to experience a greater joy in the good in life because of our better understanding of the bad, and it also increases our ability to feel empathy others."
He paused, thinking. "There are things in my life that I wish hadn't happened, but I know that every one of them is a part of who I am now. Your children will benefit from your loss because of the kind of father you will be because of it."
He looked over at his nephew. "Your pain will result in their joy."
Christian looked over at his uncle. "You should have been a preacher."
Jim chuckled. "That's what my mother and Kelly always said, but I know myself too well."
Christian smiled. "Yeah, well, any more words of wisdom before we get to town?"
Jim looked over at him. "Yep. You still have dirt on your hat."
They approached Jamestown from the north, passing several rings of home acreages, drove between the town hall and the Jamestown Inn on West Street, then turned right onto Cob Road. Driving one block, they turned right again onto a yet-unnamed street where the large door to Cesar's livery stable stood open. Across from it, the double doors of another building also stood open.
Jim pulled up to the building, parking to the side of the open doors and turned off the truck. "Mind your hat," he said as he got out.
They entered the cooler interior of the building and stopped to allow their eyes to adjust to the comparative dimness. The place smelled of oil, gasoline and WD-40. An old red GMC stake truck sat on the right with its hood up and a black 1974 El Camino SS was parked to the left, its bed full of auto parts. The sound of a hammer pounding on metal came from the back.
"Sean?" called Jim.
The pounding stopped and a voice answered, "Come on back!"
They walked back to see Sean sliding out from under a blue Ford pickup, a ball-peen hammer in his hand.
"I didn't think you all were coming by till this afternoon," Sean said, getting to his feet and wiping his hands on a blue shop towel.
"It is afternoon," said Jim.
"And quite a bit," chuckled Christian.
"Really?" Sean looked behind them to judge the light from the doorway. "Boy, time flies. I've got to put more windows in here."
He looked at Jim. "Did you tell Christian what I've been working on?"
Jim shook his head. "I thought I'd let you surprise him."
"Good," Sean smiled and cocked his head to the side. "It's over here."
They walked to a rear corner of the shop where a large green tarp lay draped over something. Sean stopped and turned to them.
"I told you that I didn't see any way to get modern vehicles running again because of all the electronics."
Christian nodded.
"Actually, we could get some running by essentially stripping out all of the electronic-dependent systems and jack-rigging older components into them, but you'd have such a hodge-podge I can't see that it would make any sense. Better to stick with the older stuff and keep it running."
Christian nodded again.
"But older cars aren't just laying around anymore;" Sean continued, "not like they used to be. And I doubt we would be able to find enough of them, plus spare parts, for everyone who will eventually want one."
Christian nodded a third time, listening.
"Plus," continued Sean, "our roads, town plan and terrain aren't conducive to modern cars."
"So, is the answer under this tarp?" asked Christian.
Sean smiled. "Yep."
He slowly drew back the tarp to reveal a small, sparkling green rail buggy. "The lower frame is one-and-a-half-inch tube and the upper is one inch. The engine is a six-and-a-half-horse from Harbor Freight. It has independent suspension, high clearance and knobbies for off-road. This one seats two, but I have plans for a four-seater and even a kind of cargo hauler. I took this one out and estimated it at about fifty miles an hour."
He looked at Christian, smiling. "Care to take it for a spin?"
Christian walked around the buggy slowly, trailing his fingers lightly along the tubes of the passenger cage and admiring the obvious craftsmanship in the vehicle. He looked at Sean. "Now?"
Sean shrugged. "Unless you don't want to."
"Of course, I want to," Christian smiled. "How does it work?"
Sean walked around to the engine. "It's pretty complicated."
He closed the choke and pulled the rope, starting the engine, then opened the choke back up. "You pull-start it, the pedal on the right makes you go, the pedal on the left makes you stop, and the round thing in front of you lets you steer."
Christian chuckled. "I think I can remember that."
He lowered himself into the left-hand seat, knocking his hat off, picked it up and handed it to Jim. Buckling and adjusting the five-point harness, he looked up at them, smiled and hit the accelerator.
The buggy shot forward, barely missing the truck and the door frame before it drifted to the left in the dirt street and disappeared.
Jim and Sean stood together staring at the cloud of dust outside the open doorway.
"Good thing it was lined up with the door," said Sean.
It took Christian several seconds to gain control after almost flipping it then over-correcting twice, but he got the buggy headed in a straight line in time to make the first right turn onto North Street.
The accelerator was touchy, but the brake was good, and the steering was almost as good as a car.
He took another right onto East Street, then another onto South Street and continued out of the square heading west on Cob Road.
The road was clear, and he was surprised at the quick response when he put his foot in it. The engine sound reminded him of the go karts he liked to drive in Branson as a kid, but the handling was solid, and he was soon topped out at what he also judged to be around fifty miles an hour.
A bug in his eye made him realize that he should be wearing glasses or goggles and he slowed down at a wide spot in the road to turn around and again hit the accelerator. As it had the first time, the buggy shot forward, holding the road solidly until he slowed to make the left turn back to Sean's.
Resisting the temptation to accelerate toward Jim and Sean so that he could slam on the brakes and dust them, he drove slowly back to the shop where he stopped in front of the two.
"I'll take it," he grinned.
Sean reached over and switched off the engine. "You can't have it. This one's mine."
"What do you think?" Jim asked as Christian climbed out of the buggy.
"It's great. I want one."
Jim nodded and tur
ned to Sean. "Okay, we'll take ten of them painted in earth-tone camo."
Sean nodded and smiled.
Jim turned back to Christian. "Sean showed me this and I thought it was great, but I wanted your opinion. Stonemont will buy the first ten for use by us and the scouts, then other people can buy them."
He looked back at Sean. "One thing I want in our agreement. If Stonemont wants to buy more in a hurry, we get to cut in front of others on the waiting list. It's a matter of security and protection needs."
Sean nodded. "That makes sense. It's a deal."
Jim held out his hand. "Good. What are you going to call your company?"
Sean smiled and took Jim's hand. "Brennan Motors."
17
The last of Aaron's team rode across the parkway and entered the side door of the church, taking their bicycles in with them.
Alex had waited until dark to send his two fastest scouts back to bring Aaron and his team to help with the next leg of the probe. He had allowed three hours for them to get back, but, to the best of his reckoning, they had made it in a little over two and now he was leaning over a street map with Aaron planning their next step.
"Here's where we stopped," said Aaron, placing the tip of his finger on the map. "55th Street."
He traced his finger down the parkway to their current position. "Here we are at 61st Street and straight south. Six blocks."
Alex studied the map. "It looks like there's a large park several blocks east of there. What's the neighborhood like?"
"Huge houses, and I mean huge."
Alex looked at his brother. "Do you think the smoke was coming from around that park?"
Aaron shook his head. "Not unless it was old. I got the sense it was farther away. I'm not sure I can explain why."
Alex nodded to himself and studied the side streets indicated on the map. He figured the park would be a logical next stop but traveling along the parkway would leave them more exposed than he liked. Side streets would be better.
He put his finger on the church. "Okay, we're going to take secondary streets to the park."
He traced his finger on the map. "We'll exit out the back door, go one block east, then north on Belleview to 55th. That puts us one block west of the park."
Aaron nodded. "How do you want to go?"
Alex thought for a minute. "I'll leave my four sentries at their posts around the church to make sure it stays secure, then I'll lead off with the rest of my team. I'll have the FLIR and one of my guys will have NVGs. You and your team stay about a block behind us on foot. Leave the bikes here in case we have to do some fence-hopping."
He looked around at the scouts watching over their shoulders. "Remember, we're a long way from home. No help is coming if we need it. It's all on us. Be ready to go in ten minutes."
They exited the rear door quickly and quietly, slowly making their way a block east before stopping to listen. Scattered clouds drifted across a half moon, casting shadows through the large trees that lined and created a canopy over the street, and a soft breeze brought rustling sounds from the leaves. A sound from overhead brought their attention to a squirrel jumping from one tree to another, but all else was quiet.
The first three blocks looked like any city neighborhood of large homes, but then the houses became even larger, and finally immense. Massive Colonial, Tudor, Gothic and Romanesque mansions lurked in the darkness, sitting back on sprawling lawns, each looking like the cover of a horror novel. Curtains blew in an occasional open window and a dog barked on the next block.
Alex stopped and went to a knee next to a stone wall, motioning the rest of his squad to do likewise. Something seemed odd, and it took him a moment to understand what it was.
Signaling the squad to hold position, he moved back through the shadows to Aaron where he knelt down.
"Notice anything?" he whispered.
Aaron looked around. "It's dark, the houses are big, and you need to cut back on the beans."
Alex stifled a chuckle. "Other than that. Look around. Consider it a test."
Aaron looked around, concentrating on the houses and streets. Suddenly, he saw it. "Some of these yards look like they've been mowed."
Alex nodded. "That means people."
"Do you think people are living in the houses with mowed yards?"
Alex shrugged. "Why would someone mow the yard of a house they didn't live in?"
He looked around. "There doesn't seem to be any pattern to it. There are three on the north side of that block and two on the south side. Up on the next street there are more per block."
"So, what do you want to do?"
Alex thought for a minute. Their instructions had been to avoid contact if possible, but evidence that there may be a number of people living in the houses around them threw an interesting wrinkle into the mix.
Taking the FLIR out of his pocket, he slowly scanned the nearby houses. Nothing showed on the first three, but two glowing figures and bright flash came from a side porch of the fourth. He nudged Aaron and handed him the FLIR. "Bingo. Side porch of the big white one."
Aaron took the FLIR and put it to his eye. "Looks like a man and a dog. The guy's having a smoke." He looked at his brother. "What do you think?"
"They don't seem to have sentries out, but I'd bet the other houses with mowed yards are occupied too."
He looked around again. "Seems like just a nice peaceful neighborhood. I'd sure like to see what happens around here in the daytime."
"So, what do you want to do?"
Alex looked at the houses on the four corners. One had a mowed yard and the other three didn't. He looked at his brother. "Send two of your guys back to the church to let them know we'll be here through the night and tomorrow. Have them pull into the church and secure it in case we need it as a fallback position. Tell them that if we're not back by sundown, they’re to go back to the golf course and let Brandon know."
He pointed at one of the corner houses without a mowed lawn. "Take your team and set up in that brick one. Put two on the top floor, two on the second floor and the rest on the ground floor. Have them rotate some sleep before sunrise."
He turned and pointed to a large Tudor on the diagonal corner. "I'll take my team in that one and do the same."
He looked at his brother. "At sunrise, we'll start watching and see what we can figure out. Don't do anything unless you see me do something first, stay hidden unless I signal you and cover me if you see me come out."
Aaron nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
18
Aaron turned the key in the ignition and the souped-up engine roared to life. The new pipes he had just put on the Camaro gave it a deep-throated rumble that he could feel, and he smiled.
He tickled the accelerator just enough to bring the rumble up a notch, but hopefully not enough to make his mom yell at him from the house, when his dad reached in the window and put his hand on his shoulder.
"Aaron, wake up."
He turned to see why his dad was telling him to wake up and felt his dad pat his shoulder.
"Wake up," his dad repeated.
He opened his eyes, surprised to see a scout looking down at him and sunlight coming in the window. "What?"
"That Superbird we saw yesterday just pulled into a driveway down the block."
Aaron rolled up to his feet, still feeling groggy. He was usually a light sleeper, and had become even more so since scout training, but he must have gone deep this time.
He moved to where he could see out the window but still stay back in the shadows of the room and saw the Superbird sitting in a driveway four houses down on the other side of the street. Two men stood next to it, talking.
"What time is it?" he asked, still trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain.
"About an hour after sunrise," answered the scout. "Alex's signalman says they're watching too."
Aaron nodded and took a small pair of binoculars out of a side pocket of his rucksack. Putting them to his eyes, he saw a large
dog trot out to the two men, followed by a young red-haired girl of about six or seven years old. The dog sat down next to one of the men and the girl walked over to the dog, stroking its head.
Aaron picked his rifle and left the room, walking down the hallway to the room where his signalman was jotting down a message from Alex's team.
"What's the word?" he asked.
The signalman held up a finger, keeping his eye to the spotting scope while he jotted down the letters being sent from across the street. Finally, he took his eye away from the scope and jotted a few more things down on the pad. "Alex says they hear another engine from the north. He says to just keep watching."
Aaron nodded. "Okay. Acknowledge it."
The signalman nodded. "Any return message?"
Aaron shook his head. "No."
The signalman sent the acknowledgement to his counterpart on Alex's team across the street, using the device one of engineers had designed to send the Morse code they were all still struggling to become proficient at. Each of them sat well back into a room so that they could not be seen by anyone outside their direct line of sight. During the daytime, they used the device that sent the dots and dashes by revealing and hiding a white circle. At night, a red light was used through the same device. So far, the method had been successful, and the engineer had assured them that their chances of being seen by anyone else who knew Morse was almost non-existent.
Aaron moved to where he could watch the men.
A woman wearing a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops came out of the house and joined the men for a couple of minutes, then went back into the house followed by the girl and the dog. A minute later, one of the men walked around to the far side of the house, and another minute after that a red '67 GTO came backing out the side driveway, the rumble of its engine being joined by the explosive thunder of the Superbird starting up again.
Both cars backed out into the street, then came east to Belleview, turned north and headed toward the park, the sound of their engines eventually diminishing.
Aaron lowered his binoculars. His dad and grandpa would love to see this. His uncles too. They were all car and motorcycle guys.