by Bruno Miller
Joel’s cheeks flushed, and he got right to work sorting through gear and avoiding eye contact with anyone.
“Hey, kid. I’m just joking. I didn’t mean anything by it. I say stupid things sometimes when I’m stressed out.” Martin laughed at himself. “You two are lucky to have each other. You’re all lucky to have each other,” he said in a more serious tone.
Joel looked even more awkward than he had before Martin’s apology, and Ben figured he better divert the conversation soon for his son’s sake.
“We are lucky.” Ben lightly smacked the back of Joel’s shoulder as he unloaded the additional MREs onto the Toyota’s tailgate. “There you go. That’s enough for you guys to have twenty-four meals, and I’m sending you with five hundred rounds of ammo for the AR and five hundred for the 9mm.”
“Thank you, Ben.” Carlos made his way over to peer into the back of the truck as Ben continued.
“Oh, there’s also a gas-fired stove back here and fuel, along with a couple pots and pans and a water-purifying pump.” Ben studied the pile in the back of the pickup, wondering if anything else back there was worth mentioning before he pulled a tarp over the supplies and threw a few old boards across the top. “I’d keep that covered the best you can,” he added.
“The rest of your stuff is inside behind the seat.” Joel opened the driver’s side door and pulled the seat forward to show Carlos and Rita the camping gear he’d packed for them.
“Oh, thank you, Joel. You’re so thoughtful.” Rita patted his arm.
“Everything you need is in there. Tent, sleeping bags, a fire-starter, sleeping pads…” Joel tilted his head back toward the sky as he tried to remember what else he’d managed to squeeze into the truck. “Oh yeah, and a few jugs of water. And there’s a knife in the glove compartment.”
“We can’t thank you all enough.” Carlos shook Ben’s hand again.
“No problem. Where do you think you’ll turn off the interstate and head north?” Ben had the road atlas out and was looking it over on the tailgate. Carlos joined him and started tracing the route with his finger.
“I think we’ll head north toward Fort Wayne, somewhere around Columbus.”
Ben put his finger on the map. “If we take the northern route around the city, we can stay with you guys all the way until…looks like Marysville, Indiana. That’ll only leave you another hour or two of easy, back-road driving to Fort Wayne.”
“That would be fantastic, Ben.” Carlos stepped back and smiled at Rita.
Ben’s original plan was to drive hard for Cloverdale, only stopping when they absolutely had to, but it wasn’t just them anymore. And while he thought Martin would be able to keep up without much trouble, Rita and her husband were a different story. If they were going to stick together, he needed to start thinking about travel in terms of what the newcomers to their group would be capable of.
They couldn’t leave them behind; that wasn’t an option Ben was willing to entertain. Even though they were armed now, he questioned their ability to actually defend themselves. Joel had given them both a little instruction while Ben, Brad, and Martin remained focused on packing the vehicles, but as far as Ben knew, that was the extent of the couple’s knowledge of firearms. He’d really sent Rita and Carlos with the guns and extra ammunition in hopes that their daughter and her husband could use them when they reached Fort Wayne.
Maybe it was best to take it easy and focus on being safe. If it took an extra day to reach Cloverdale, so be it. Rushing across the country wasn’t what had brought them this far. Slow was smooth, and smooth was fast. But that was a hard mantra to follow with more than 1700 miles to go before they made it home.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ben checked his watch and was disappointed to see that it was fast approaching noon. Judging by the intensity of the sun on his back, he figured it was about that time, but he’d put off confirming it until they were finished packing.
With the trucks loaded and ready to go, there was little left to do. As badly as Ben wanted to put some distance between them and this god-awful place, they needed to recharge their batteries a little before hitting the road. And as bad as this place was, the fresh spring water here wasn’t something to take for granted. The fact that it came out of the pump cold only added to its appeal.
Ben took advantage of the opportunity to clean up, as did the others. He was glad to be rid of his bloodstained T-shirt. The smell of detergent was still fresh on the new one he pulled from the laundry Sandy had done at Jack’s.
They also needed to drink all they could while they had the opportunity and make sure to top off every container before heading out. There was no telling when or where they would find the next decent water source. Driving out of the mountains toward the plains meant it would only get hotter and dryer from here on out. For a while, at least. Ben was afraid they might not see cooler temperatures until they hit the eastern slope of the Rockies. That was a long way to travel in this kind of heat.
He stopped himself from thinking any further ahead as he closed the tailgate on the Blazer. In his current mental and physical state, the mileage that lay ahead of them seemed impossible, and if he dwelled on it any longer, he might start to believe that it was. He only needed to focus on the next leg of the journey right now, and that was reaching Cloverdale—or, by the looks of things, maybe just a decent place to camp tonight.
Ben didn’t have to remind anyone to take a break, and as soon as they were done packing, everyone found a spot in the shade. Not a word was spoken while they all drank from their water bottles and rested. Ben wondered if they were quiet because they were exhausted or because they were apprehensive about the trip ahead.
It occurred to Ben that he should reach out to Sandy on the radio to let her and Allie know that they were finished and would be ready to leave soon. Ben was about to cue the microphone on his radio when two faint but sharp blasts from Sandy’s air horn echoed through the woods.
It took a moment for the noise to register in his brain, and Ben wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him, but the looks on the others’ faces confirmed that what he was hearing was not a figment of his imagination. He also wished now that he’d asked Allie to have her mom use the radio if she needed help instead of the air horn.
Ben dropped his water without bothering to screw on the lid and forced himself off the ground. He pointed at Rita and Emma, who were still on the blanket with the dogs.
“You guys stay put and be ready to load up and get out of here. Brad, you stay here with them. And keep the dogs here, too.” Ben turned to Joel and Martin. “Let’s get to the gate and see what’s going on.”
Joel grabbed his AR and started running without waiting for further instructions.
“Joel, wait,” Ben called out, but Joel was halfway down the hill and well on his way to the front of the compound. Ben fought the urge to chase after his son and took a few moments to gather some gear and a couple weapons of choice. When Ben started down the hill, Joel was nowhere to be seen. Martin followed behind with his AR-15 as they both chased after Joel.
Ben turned as he ran. “Here.” He tossed the KSG to Martin and fumbled with the radio while doing his best not to break stride.
“Sandy, we’re on our way to you. What’s going on? Over.” Ben felt the sling on his M24 cut into his shoulder as he sprinted toward the gate. His legs burned with every step, but he did his best to ignore the pain and pushed on. Thoughts of Joel running out into the open and making himself a target when he reached the gate flashed through Ben’s mind.
“Moonshiners everywhere. Hur—” Sandy’s voice cut out abruptly, and Ben poured everything he had into moving his legs faster without tripping over himself.
He was relieved to see Joel tucked down behind the front gate. Inside the fence, the moonshiners had built a small fortified position out of tires and what looked like metal container pieces left over from their construction efforts. Ben stopped shy of the entrance to the camp and held off twent
y yards or so from the others behind an ivy-covered pile of pallets.
Martin wasn’t too far behind, and Ben could hear his heavy breathing as he approached.
“What’s going on?” Martin crouched down beside Ben and used his rifle to prop himself up while he tried to catch his breath. Ben was winded as well, but he was too keyed up about the moonshiners to let it affect him.
“Not sure yet. Sandy says moonshiners. Joel’s up there with the girls.” Ben pointed before holding the radio up to his face. “Sandy, come in. Martin and I are back here.” He saw the three of them begin to search. “Eight o’clock. Over.”
He watched as Joel pointed them out to Allie and her mom.
“We see you. Over,” Sandy responded.
“What’s going on? Over.”
“We spotted moonshiners coming up the trail. They scattered into the woods when I blew the horn. Not sure how many, but there were three trucks. Over.”
Ben didn’t answer right away. Instead, he laid his M24 over the top of the pallets and scoped out the forest beyond the fence line. He saw two pickup trucks and a Suburban, all parked close to the first switchback, as well as the truck that had tried to make a run for it earlier. Occasionally, he picked up on movement in the bushes alongside the trail on both sides of the parked vehicles. The other moonshiners were here in force.
He was afraid this would happen and regretted not taking the time or energy to investigate the fleeing truck after it hit the tree. He couldn’t help but think that someone had survived the crash and gone for help, the small army of moonshiners currently hiding in the woods a hundred yards from the camp being the result.
He knew this was coming, although he had been clinging to the hope that they were going to make it out of here before anyone showed up. They were so close; thirty minutes more and they would have been a few miles down the road. But they weren’t. Ben wanted to blame it on something, or someone, but he couldn’t. There was nothing else they could have done. Ben took a deep breath. His anxiety transitioned to anger about their situation and the moonshiners who stood in their way.
Fortunately, the compound was situated in a sort of natural bowl on top of the mountain. The only good point of entry was through the front gate. For the moonshiners to try and gain access or even secure a better vantage point from the sides or rear, they would have to do some serious climbing and bushwhacking and in turn expose themselves as they navigated the rough terrain surrounding the camp. No doubt the old man, or whoever built this place, had chosen this spot for just that reason.
Joel’s voice crackled over the radio. “What do we do?”
It was a fairly easy position to defend, but Ben didn’t want to spend days picking the moonshiners off one by one while wasting valuable time and supplies. And what if the moonshiners outlasted them? In spite of all their efforts, they were still basically trapped here. He hadn’t worked this hard to trade one cage for another.
“We fight. Over.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ben knew what had to be done. The fact that it was risky and that he hated the idea gave him reason enough to pause for a minute and try thinking of something else, anything else, but he couldn’t. Nothing would make an impact quite like half a box of dynamite.
If he was going to do this, he needed to act fast. It might already be too late to use the mine cart lift if the generator had run out of fuel. He wished he would have turned it off.
He also didn’t like the idea of leaving Joel, Allie, and Sandy here on their own. Martin was here, but that didn’t give Ben any comfort. There was no way he was sending one of them for the dynamite. There was no telling how old the stuff was or if it was stable. The whole plan might be off if it was in bad shape or damaged from moisture. It did feel pretty damp down in the mine. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.
“Dad.” Joel’s voice came over the radio again, but before Ben could answer, he heard the crack of a rifle and a bullet whizzed by far overhead. Bad idea or not, it was the only surefire way to end this fast.
“Joel, I have an idea, but I’m going to need you guys to hold them off for a few minutes. Do your best not to let them advance, and try to keep them all in one spot if you can. Over.”
“What are you going to do? Over.”
Crack…crack! Two more shots rang out. Ben popped up from behind the pallet and put a round through the Suburban’s windshield.
Ben turned to face Martin. “I want you guys to keep them busy. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Crack…crack, crack! Three more shots, but this time it was Joel and Sandy doing the shooting.
“Just be ready to open the gate when I tell you. Over.” There was no more time for talk, and Ben clipped the radio to his belt. He took a few seconds to put another round downrange and shatter a second windshield in an attempt to help create a little chaos and panic among the moonshiners.
Ben leaned his rifle against the pallets. “I need you to cover me.”
Martin had a blank look on his face.
“That means you shoot at them while I run!” Ben instructed. “You wanted your chance for revenge? This is it.” He ducked as another bullet sailed by overhead.
“Y-You’re leaving?” Martin looked at him blankly for a moment as he came to terms with the fact that Ben was leaving him here on his own.
“Shoot!” Ben shouted as he pointed toward the moonshiners and took off running. He didn’t bother looking back, but he didn’t have to.
Crack…crack…crack! Ben was well on his way as Martin squeezed off his third shot. Hopefully the guy understood that he needed to conserve his ammunition and not just shoot nonstop. Fortunately, Martin had followed Ben’s lead and grabbed a few magazines of his own before they hurried to the gate. But he was still glad to hear his rate of fire slow. Ben wondered how long he really had to make this happen the way he wanted it to.
As he neared the trucks and the others, the dogs were already barking and worked up from the gunshots.
“I need you guys to stay low and stay put until this is over. It’s gonna be all right.” Ben nodded at his kids, then shot Rita and Carlos a look he hoped would convey the amount of trust he was being forced to place in them right now for his kids’ sake.
Ben heard distant gunshots as he went up the rickety stairs and entered the dark and dirty container, a place he’d hoped to never set foot in again. His outlook improved when he saw the dim glow of the lights running down the mineshaft. That meant the generator was still running and he’d be able to use the cart to bring the box of dynamite to the surface.
Not wasting any time, Ben kicked the chock from the cart wheel and hit the switch. The cart began descending at a pace he couldn’t bear to watch. He headed down the shaft on foot, ahead of the cart. Half-running, half-sliding on top of the loose gravel and scree, he skated down the incline much faster than he ever would have attempted otherwise. He’d beat the cart to the bottom and inspect the dynamite. If it was any good, he could carry it out and be ready to load it up when the cart reached the bottom.
He hated to think about how long it was going to take for the return trip to the surface, but there was no way he could move up the slope any faster than the mine cart, especially while carrying a box of dynamite. One bad step on the loose gravel and it could be game over. There was no telling how stable this stuff was going to be or how old it was. He was hoping to find a date on the box or on the sticks themselves. He tried to picture the dynamite they’d found back in Missouri. It had a date stamped on the bottom of each stick, as far as he recalled.
As Ben approached the room with the cache of weapons and gear, he wondered what his cutoff would be on the dynamite. If it was more than ten years old, would it be worth the risk? He had no idea what was considered safe, and he’d have to make a call based on a physical inspection.
He grabbed the cold rock wall of the shaft as he skidded to a stop and pulled himself around the corner, into the room. Joel and Allie had really cleaned the place out
. There was nothing left but a few pieces of trash and some old clothing in a pile on the floor. Ben spotted the box of dynamite right away and approached slowly. He crouched down and exhaled deeply as he lifted the lid off the dusty wooden crate.
Joel was right. There was about half a box of neatly stacked yellow sticks, along with some fuse material.
“Dyno Nobel, Unimax.” Ben read the name out loud. He recognized the yellow wax-paper-like wrap immediately. He was somewhat relieved to see that it was the same stuff they’d found in the back of the Bronco. The dynamite was only five years old, and the fact that it looked to be in good shape was encouraging as well. There was a little less of it than they’d found last time, but based on what he knew from that experience, this was more than enough to rattle the moonshiners’ cage and then some.
Ben put the lid back on the crate and took a few long strides out into the shaft. At least he could see the cart now. He ran back into the room, gingerly picked up the crate, and carried it to where the cart would stop. He might as well use the rest of his time to check the fuel level on the generator; there was no point in waiting for the cart if there wasn’t enough fuel to carry him and the dynamite up to the surface.
He followed the exhaust pipe to the rear of the room and opened the door on a plywood box that housed the generator. The gauge showed less than a quarter tank as the needle flirted with the red warning zone on the dial. There wasn’t much fuel left, but he thought it was enough for one more trip to the top. He noticed that the cable responsible for moving the mine cart ran into the plywood cover at the rear, and his curiosity got the better of him.
Ben lifted the box and threw it aside, revealing a clutch and drive gear attached to the main pulley. It’s worth a try. He grabbed the lever and squeezed the handle. The gear disconnected from the shaft driving the pulley, and the cable stopped immediately. He pulled the lever forward and felt it click into position. This caused the cable to jerk back into motion at more than twice the speed it had been moving. The generator responded as well and idled up significantly under the new load.