by Ricky Sides
Jim drove for an hour looking for a suitable place to spend the night. He wanted to find a deserted location so that he could do some work on his truck, without having to fear being interrupted by Marauders. He found such a spot just before sundown.
Jim surveyed the jagged landscape around the deserted farm. He could easily understand why it had been abandoned. Several places had sunk into the earth during the earthquake. In fact, the house had fallen into one such hole. Walking up to the hole in the earth, Jim saw the roof about twenty feet below ground level.
He thought about going down to investigate the house to see if the owners had left behind anything he might need but after pondering this a few moments he decided against it. There would be plenty of time to do that, after he completed the repairs to his truck.
That night, Jim slept in the sleeper of his truck. He didn’t sleep very well, but the next morning he awoke eager to begin the repairs and custom work on the truck. He started as soon as he’d eaten a hearty breakfast of steaming hot beef stew and crackers. He also drank one of the soft drinks he’d found in the cooler at the shop the day before.
He unloaded the welding torch cart and two of the tanks needed to fuel it. Then he unloaded the components he needed to attach armor plating to the vulnerable areas on the cab of the truck. It took Jim two days of steady and often frustrating work, but he finally had his truck partially armor plated. He’d rigged plate shielding for the fuel tanks and the sides of the doors. The windshield work was what took the longest. Fully a day and a half went into that affair, but when it was finished, Jim was pleased with the results.
Though no replacement windshield had been available in the shop, he had located some flat and very thick safety glass. It was far too small to replace the entire windshield but Jim had pre cut the plating to act as a frame for the glass. He had then welded angle iron pieces to this steel plating. Once this was accomplished, he cleaned out all of the broken glass, then removed the trim and welded the frame into place. Next, he applied generous portions of sealer to the angle iron. Taking the makeshift windshield, he pressed it into position and grunted in satisfaction. It wasn’t a great fit and it would probably leak but now he would have a decent field of vision. He let that dry a few moments, and then he applied a layer of sealer to the top section and pushed the trim, which he had custom cut, back into position. He repeated this process all around the makeshift frame.
Getting down from the cab, he looked at the truck and sighed. It looked like crap, but the windshield was a temporary fix and it was better than nothing. There was still the problem of protecting the glass section against future attacks but he was out of the plate steel needed for such custom work.
Jim turned to the large barn situated about a hundred yards from the house. He’d noted it immediately upon arriving, but had been too preoccupied with the much-needed custom work on the truck to investigate it. Now, he had a few moments to spare and his legs felt cramped from all the squatting he’d been doing the past two days as he worked on the truck. A walk was just what he needed, so he took a rifle with him, made sure he had the truck keys and then walked over to the barn. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the barn, but when they did he smiled in appreciation as he admired the tractor sitting there with the V-shaped earthmover attached to the front end.
A quick search of the barn revealed a small toolbox on a worktable not far from the tractor. Opening the toolbox, he found the tools that would be needed to detach the earthmover from the front of the tractor. He set the toolbox on the footboard of the tractor and climbed aboard. It took him a moment to figure out the gears and then he turned the tractor engine over. It coughed and sputtered but refused to crank. Climbing down he located the inline fuel valve and noted that it was set to the off position. He twisted the valve to the on position then returned to the seat of the tractor and tried the engine again. This time it rumbled to life but died almost instantly.
He was concerned about the battery. It seemed low on power because the engine had turned over sluggishly on both attempts. He climbed back down and took the toolbox and then he returned to his truck. He decided to eat a light lunch and let the power rebuild naturally a bit in the battery before he tried a third time. He wished now that he’d taken an extra battery from the custom shop but he hadn’t.
While preparing the light lunch, he remembered the shocks and was glad that he had taken them from shop. Those shocks would be quite useful if he attached a few to the mounting for the earthmover. They would absorb a great deal of the impact if he were forced to use the earthmover blade as a ram.
After lunch, he returned to the tractor and climbed back aboard the seat. This time, the tractor turned over a bit easier and rumbled to life almost immediately. The engine did sputter a bit at first, but Jim soon had the engine running smoothly. Next, he figured out how to raise the earthmover, which had been lowered to the ground when the tractor had been parked.
When Jim drove the tractor near his truck, he was excited and happy. He hadn’t driven a tractor since his grandfather taught him to drive the old family farm tractor that summer when he was nine years old. That seemed a lifetime ago to him now. He was surprised that he remembered anything about it at all.
Next, Jim thought about the problem of taking fire head on in the truck. He knew that the truck had three main weaknesses. There were the fuel tanks, the windshield and of course, there was the front end of the engine compartment. The earthmover would not cover the entire front end, but it could be customized a bit to cover the majority of it, and there was still some scrap steel plating that could be brazed to the top of the earthmover blade. The weld wouldn’t hold under a serious impact, but it would take the forces it would be exposed to, under small arms fire.
Jim went back to the barn and rolled two empty fifty-five gallon steel drums down to his work site. He set them up near the front of the truck and then unscrewed their caps. Next, he filled both drums with water from a nearby stream and replaced the caps. The drums would be the base for his work platform. The water would make the base more stable and less likely to tip over.
By the time he had finished filling the drums, it was getting dark so he stopped for the day, ate, and then slept soundly.
The next morning he was so eager to be working on the truck that he skipped breakfast. He went to the barn and found a crowbar and used it to pry several stout boards loose and carried those to the drums. He laid them on top of the drums and had soon fashioned a very stout worktable, which he nailed together.
The tractor coughed to life and he raised the blade as much as possible. He frowned because the bottom of the blade was about eight inches too low to clear the table. He sat there a moment and studied the problem, and then he began to laugh at himself.
Shutting down the tractor, Jim climbed down, got in the truck and backed it up out of the way. He whistled to himself as he climbed back aboard the tractor and fired the engine. He drove the tractor around to the other side of the barrels and lined up with the table. He lowered the blade to the ground and eased off the clutch. The tractor eased forward. As the blade dug into the dirt, the engine bogged down a bit and Jim gave the tractor more fuel to compensate. Ten minutes later Jim had formed a small makeshift earthen ramp. Driving the tractor up that low ramp, he was pleased that the blade cleared the worktable surface by a good six inches.
Later, he had the blade detached from the tractor and was ready to begin the rest of the work. It took all day long but by nightfall, he had his truck equipped with the earthmover blade. He’d had to be innovative. When he needed to drill holes, he had improvised and used the torch to burn through the steel. Then he filed down the rough edges since he lacked a drill or electricity to run one.
Jim stepped back and looked at the modifications he’d made to the truck. He was satisfied with the job he’d done, even if he was aggravated at the amount of time that he’d lost while doing the modifications.
Chapter 18
Jim sat beside his small campfire that night and slowly ate his dinner of chicken and dumplings. As he ate, he made plans for the work he wanted to accomplish the next day. He intended to go into the farmhouse that had sunk into the earth. He didn’t know why he felt so compelled to enter that house. Shrugging it off, Jim decided to follow his instincts on the matter. He’d long ago learned to trust his instincts. The few times he had ignored them he’d usually come to regret it.
Jim ate another spoonful of chicken and dumplings and then put the can aside. He looked at the chainsaw he’d brought along to cut up any trees that might block the road on his trip. He had decided the best way to get into the house was to cut a hole in the roof. He considered doing it that night, but he was tired and decided to wait until dawn. Curious or not, he decided no matter what, he would stay here only one more day. It was time to get back on the road. It was past time.
That night Jim slept well and the next morning he was ready to begin his investigation. He pulled the tractor to within twenty feet of the hole and parked it. He took two coils of rope and tied the end of one to the tractor with a good stout knot. The ropes were of good heavy construction. He knew that they could easily support a dozen men, so there was no danger of them breaking and stranding him down in the hole.
Walking over to the edge of the hole, he tied the spare rope to the handle of the chainsaw and lowered it to the roof below. He’d selected a spot where the earth had partially collapsed onto the roof, so there was no danger of the saw sliding between the wall of the hole and the side of the house. Then, he lowered himself in that same area; he was taking no chances.
He breathed a sigh of relief that he’d made it to the roof without dislodging large quantities of the dirt wall, but he decided for added safety he’d cut into the roof toward the center of the home. That way, if there were a cave in, it would be unlikely that the dirt would block his exit. There had not been any aftershocks for a while now, but he was not about to risk being buried alive.
He made his way to his selected location of the roof and cut a three-foot section with the chainsaw. Sunlight entered the hole as the section of roof fell inward with a crashing sound. He had to wait a few moments for the dust to settle and then he eased the chainsaw to the floor below. At the last moment, he gave it a swing so that it landed with a thud on the floor well clear of where he would land as he climbed down into the house.
Jim carefully made his way down the rope and looked around at the bedroom. The hole in the roof illuminated enough of the room for him to discern that he was probably in a guest room for there were no personal effects, as one usually finds in the bedroom of most homes that have a steady occupant. It was possible that the owners had removed all of the personal effects before the disaster. He shrugged. It really didn’t matter. There was nothing of interest in the room.
Taking a powerful flashlight from his belt, Jim opened the door and walked out into the hallway. The light from the flashlight illuminated the brown paneled walls of the hall. He counted three more doors and he saw stairs leading down to the ground floor. He found that the three remaining rooms were a bathroom and two more bedrooms but they offered little interest to him. He made his way down the stairs, being careful to test the steps as he descended into the bowels of the home.
He walked slowly down the short hall at the bottom of the stairs and entered a large living room. In one corner of the living room, he saw a large freestanding safe. As he looked around the living room, he saw the glint of reflected light above a fireplace. Training his flashlight on the spot, he drew his breath in sharply. There above the mantle rested a gold trimmed M16. Stepping over to it, he discovered it was an Airborne Commemorative issue M16 with sliding stock. It was a beautiful weapon. The rifle rested on a red velvet bed inside an oak display case, covered by a glass front. He marveled at the beauty of the weapon. It was not practical for combat, but it was a beauty to behold.
To the right of the fireplace stood a large gun cabinet, filled with hunting rifles and shotguns. All were top quality weapons. Some of the rifles were semi-automatics and some were bolt action. He whistled in appreciation as he recognized Browning and Remington models. All were in superb condition. The man who owned these firearms was a collector.
Jim next turned to the safe. He was not sure that he could open it, but he was determined to try. First, he decided to take the weapons to the truck and return with a lantern so that he would have both hands free to work on the safe.
As he opened the door to the gun cabinet, he frowned when he saw the round steel bar that locked the weapons in the cabinet. He hadn’t seen that before because a piece of wood trim on the doors blocked it from view. He’d need bolt cutters to free the weapons. He took the M16 display case down from the wall and filled a sack he had brought with him with most of the ammunition inside the bottom of the gun cabinet.
He returned a few minutes later with a lantern and the bolt cutters. It was simple work to cut the retaining bar and free the weapons. For a moment, Jim felt a pang of guilt at taking the weapons but he was sure that no one had been here in weeks and felt confident that the owners had abandoned the semi-buried home.
It took Jim three trips to get all of the weapons up to the bedroom that he was using for egress into the home. As he’d taken the weapons to the bedroom, he laid them on a blanket and rolled them in it until a layer of the wool protected them. When he had them all rolled into one large bundle he then tied off each end securely and wrapped a stout cord around the entire bundle to minimize movement inside the package. Next, he tied the end of the rope that he would use to climb out of the house to the entire package. Now the weapons could be pulled out of the bedroom muzzle first.
He climbed out, and then rested briefly before beginning the task of pulling the weapons up to the roof. Grunting under the strain, he wished that he had broken them down into two separate packages but he did manage to pull them up. Resting again, he waited for his strength to return and then he climbed up to ground level. He pulled the slack out of the rope that was tied to the weapons and secured it to the tractor again, this time with all the slack removed. Mounting the tractor, he fired up the engine and put the tractor in reverse. He backed the tractor away from the hole, letting the tractor do most of the work. He stopped when he thought the package must be four or five feet below surface level and parked the tractor again. Walking to the edge of the hole, he pulled the weapons up the rest of the way, being careful not to drag them over the edge for fear of damaging them.
He stored the weapons in the back of the truck and locked it. He then moved the tractor back into position and freed the entire length of the rope once more, so that he would have the slack needed to reach the bedroom floor below. Soon he was sitting on a chair in front of the safe about to try to open it. To his utter astonishment, the safe opened easily as he tried the handle. The owner had left it unlocked. It was then that his eyes fell on the note that was tapped to a shelf in the safe. It read:
Helen,
I am going to look for Rob in Washington. I think I can convince him to come home. I left the safe open so that you could get in. Remember, I always told you I would if I had to be gone during dangerous times because you can never seem to get the darn thing open, even though you know the combination.
I’ll try to get back here within a week. I may not be able to though. It may take longer to find our son. If I’m not back in three weeks, it means I’m probably dead and won’t be coming back at all. In that case, you need to follow your own conscience about what you should do. You know your options. We have covered them many times in the past.
Darling, I am sorry about sneaking off like this, but I don’t think I could go if I had to look you in the eyes and say goodbye. I wouldn’t go if our son didn’t need me. You know how stubborn he is. He’ll not come back home unless I make him see reason. I know you’ll be ok. You have your family to take care of you.
I love you Helen.
Love always,
George
Jim sadly read the note and knew that the man was probably dead. From the date on the note, he knew it was two months old. Looking beside that note, he saw another note in a different handwriting. It said:
George,
It’s been a month since you left. I’m going to my sister’s house in Jackson. I took a couple of the pistols and two rifles from the safe. I’m leaving the rest in the hopes that you’ll come back. You may need them when you get here.
Don’t be angry with me for not taking all your guns with me the way you always said I should. I just can’t do that. Doing that would be admitting to myself that you’re not coming back. I have to go now, George. My sister and her husband are here to pick me up. They didn’t want me to drive to Jackson alone. They say it’s too dangerous now.
I love you and miss you. If you and Rob make it back home, please hurry and come to get me.
Your loving wife,
Helen
Jim sadly read the note and knew that in all probability, all of the people that it referred to were dead. He knew that the earthquakes had devastated Jackson on the night of the quakes. He had heard that much on the radio. There had been pitifully few survivors in the city.
He took the notes down and set them aside. He would put them back up when he was finished in the safe just in case the man ever came home. He knew it was a futile gesture. The odds were a million to one that the man was already dead or he would’ve returned by now.