The Benefactor

by Jake Aaron

  “Corporal,” Marsh began slowly. “I ran into a situation like this myself once when I was pulling guard duty in Afghanistan. My solution was for one of the three people to methodically unchamber each weapon. I had the other two watch, on their knees — hands interlocked behind the neck. Then I had the first guy carry the weapons where I wanted them while I stood behind the other two. I kept a bead on the weapons transporter the entire time. I think I might be the least likely person to do the unchambering.

  Continuing with measured words, Marsh added, “You can keep the rifles and pistols anywhere you want; but if any bad guys come at us, you’ll be glad you have us and them to help you.”

  Relieved to have a solution to the perplexing situation, the Marine nodded and barked, “What he said! The lady clears the weapons!”

  *****

  In a building near the reactor allowing a commanding view of the gate, John said to the other three, “The Geiger counter still registers in the green. I’m going to the control room with it.”

  Keala quickly added, “John, be careful. Susan’s counting on you!”

  “No worries,” John replied. “This is what I’ve trained for. It’s going to be fun!”

  Marsh identified, “Chemistry-set time?”

  John nodded, “And Erector-set time. This is my moment! Showtime!”

  While John checked out the status of the reactor, Marsh, Keala, and the guard sat down to some really strong coffee. Keala choked on it.

  Marine: “Ma’am, I have some creamers you can use, and I have sugar. Just say the word.”

  Keala noticed the overly solicitous behavior of the young guard. It gave her flashbacks to the way men and boys had fawned over her since puberty, behavior not experienced in her familial Denton group. She did not want to encourage him, so she turned down the creamer she so badly needed. Marsh was amused at the scene. He did admire the Marine’s multitasking: attentiveness to monitoring the gate — as well as Keala. Marsh put cream in Keala’s coffee while the Marine scanned the gate. She smiled at Marsh.

  “I’m Lance Corporal Mike Reynolds,” the guard volunteered. “My fellow Marine, Jedediah, is sleeping. We alternate shifts. It’s been just the two of us since the first of the year.”

  “Proud of you for holding down the fort, Corporal,” Marsh told him. “No slight intended with the soldier title back there. I remember now from someone close to me, it’s Marine. I spent four years in the Army, myself. Things are chaotic out there, as I’m sure you guessed; but this facility must be defended at all costs. I’m going to do everything I can to get you some reinforcements. We’d stay and reinforce you ourselves, but we’ve got responsibilities back in Montana.”

  John returned from the control center. “I think I can get the reactor back on track. Let me tell you, though, our getting here was just days, maybe hours, before a catastrophe. The water pumps were apparently powered part of the time, but no one was here to make some crucial cooling rod adjustments and replace equipment. I made some crude adjustments. Now I have hours of hand calculations ahead of me for a longer-term fix. Corporal, do you have any kind of warehouse with spare equipment and tools? I’m going to have to replace some faulty parts and gauges.”

  “John, take my smartphone. I’ll bet, yep, it’s up. The calculator will save you hours,” Marsh said.

  John did a double-take on the functioning cell phone in his hand. “Marsh …?”

  Marsh: “Don’t ask!”

  John: “I think I’ll be done in six to eight hours of work.”

  The Marine corporal was inquisitive about the functioning cell phone. His did not work; but, as always, rank had its privileges, he thought. He remained on task. He looked at the men. “Lieutenant, I’ll take you to the supply room. Marshal, will you watch the gate for me?”

  Marsh was pleased to see his plan come together, “Just as soon as we get our weapons back.”

  *****

  During a supper of MREs and some beer from the back of the truck, the three told Mike about the new world outside the reactor’s gate. Looking at his crew, Marsh finished, “Best if we turn in and get an early start. Less attention on us gathering here, the better. We’ll leave in the dark at 4:00 AM.”

  John nodded, “I’ll ask the guard to wake me at 0315. That’ll give me time to get another data point on the reactor. I’d like to make sure the positive trends continue. Good work, everybody! Of course, Corporal, many thanks to you and your partner for hanging in here. I know it’s tough. You save us every day! Semper fi!”

  “Semper fi! Thank you, sir. I really am glad you came. He smiled at Keala, looked at everyone else, and then turned his gaze back to Keala. We've got spare rooms with cots and fresh linens for you to sleep on. At changeover, I’ll tell Jedediah you’re here, so he doesn’t shoot you.”

  He was serious.

  *****

  Late in the day, the redhead was now on her plan B. Going north, she paralleled the Bitterroot River. She had left the safety of the fallout shelter as food was running out. The state of anarchy she saw approaching nearby Corvallis kept her from staying there. She feared for her life. Walk like a man, she kept telling herself.

  Midaftertoon, she heard rustling in the bushes behind her. As she prepared to defend herself, two female yellow labrador retrievers exploded from the forest to sniff her calves and wag their hellos. She was going to shoo them away but decided to hug them instead, after she recovered from the startle. She knew they had to be hungry, so she fed them the last food she had reserved for her trek.

  They kept her company for miles until at last running off after a scent known only to them. She felt sad to lose their company. She planned to remain in stealth mode as she made her way north toward Missoula. She planned to connect with a cousin in Missoula who was an outdoor guide. Travis would know how to survive.

  As daylight faded, she spotted a campfire, carefully approached it, and watched the two female campers from a distance. She listened. They seemed all right. She announced her approach.

  It was kismet finding kindred spirits. She eagerly ate the beans and rice from the pair’s pot on the pinewood fire. She had expected a lengthy exchange of life stories over the dancing flames of the fire. She was disappointed.

  She spoke wearily to her new friends, “I’m so glad we found each other. I feel a lot safer. Sorry, I’m fading. Jewel, thanks for taking the first shift with the fire. Noreen, I’ll see you when I wake you for the third shift. See you both again in the morning!”

  Noreen and Jewel asked if she came alone, since they all heard rustling in the bushes. The redhead said she was by herself and was glad to have the company for the night.

  With that, the redhead could not wait to put her head down on the poncho-over-pine-boughs mattress near the fire. She should have been well-rested from many nights of good sleep. Suddenly, she felt a strange sinking sensation, like being in an elevator in free-fall. She uttered something incomprehensible, rolled onto her poncho, and pulled her blankets up to her chin. Sleep onset should not be so fast, she thought. Her short hair did not even keep her awake this time.

  With no emotion, Jewel observed the newcomer’s quick fade. “Okay, Noreen, she’s out. She never saw you put the sleeping pills in her tea. You get her backpack. I’ll get her poncho and blankets. Another sucker! I’ll also get the gold necklace and rings on her fingers. Let’s get back to the guys and see what they got. This is the way great fortunes are made!”

  As they departed, Noreen kicked the sleeping redhead’s skull with a steel-toed boot. The dull thud was sickening. The redhead’s neck wound up at an awkward, unnatural angle. “I can tell you get a kick out of me, sweetie,” jaded Noreen sneered. She thought about kicking her victim again but saw it was unnecessary. Besides, she felt the torn meniscus in her right knee couldn’t handle the impact of another kick.

  "What's that noise in the bushes?" Jewel asked in a fearful tone.

  "I don't hear anything," Noreen said. "Probably just a skunk or a squirrel.
Just the same, let's get out of here!"

  January 11

  As expected, Corporal Jedediah woke John early. John ate quickly and adjourned to the control room with a hot cup of coffee. Jedediah woke Marsh and Keala fifteen minutes later. The two “late” risers ate slowly and talked with Jedediah as he watched the gate. It turned out that Jedediah was a “West Coast” Marine like Mike, meaning he had gone through boot camp in San Diego. Like Mike, he was fiercely determined to stay at his post at the nuclear power plant, no matter the challenges.

  Jedediah shared his thoughts on what had happened to the world, “Mike and I both thought it was some kind of military exercise. You know, the Marines began playing mind games with us in boot camp. Halfway through, they shouted us out of our bunks at 0300 and told us we were shipping out to fight in North Korea. Of course, we didn’t. We thought the loss of power on New Year's was just more of the same, a drill. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it. Oorah!”

  John returned. “Looking good. Everything nominal. We can head back whenever. Hate to leave the sub-zero Antarctic cold of Idaho for the freezing Arctic cold of Montana.”

  Jedediah laughed, “Good one, sir!”

  John: “Thanks, Corporal, it’s too early to come up with anything better. You and Reynolds, take good care of each other. I can’t think of a more important duty than the one you have here. This reactor must be guarded! Thanks for the hospitality. Semper fi!”

  “Semper fi, sir! I’ll escort you three to the gate. First, let me get some flashlights.”

  Headed to the pickup, John mused out loud, “I found something interesting in the control room. The reactor has recently been connected to the outside grid. Maybe a potential meltdown wasn’t the only reason we were sent here!”

  Jedediah said, “I guess it’s time to turn off the flashlights and let your eyes adapt a little. Come back and see us!”

  Donning night vision goggles, Marsh, John, and Keala headed home.

  *****

  John napped in the back of the Ford truck in a sleeping bag under the tarp. He had the deep sleep of a victor, totally relieved of the challenge of preventing a nuclear meltdown. The sleep was so deep it made him drool. The tarp over his head saved him from having a frozen half-mustache.

  Headed north, the straight interstate road mesmerized driver Marsh and copilot Keala. The lack of stimulation caused both to nod off at the same time. Drifting right onto the grooved edge of the rumble strip, the pickup began to shake. The pair jerked into consciousness.

  “Damn!” Marsh swore. “That was one helluva jolt!”

  Simultaneously, Keala involuntarily reached for the steering wheel, then eased off as she saw Marsh adjust their course. “That was close!” she spoke. "Whew!"

  Marsh cracked open his side window. “I hope this keeps me awake. Try the radio. I don’t expect it to pick up anything, but it’s worth a try. Cold air and the radio were my old tricks for staying awake when I was off schedule back when …”

  “When there was a civilized world,” Keala completed his thought. “Nothing, Marsh — only static on the radio, no reception. Sorry. I don’t hear any signs of life. Why don’t you stop and grab a half-hour nap. I’ll be on guard.”

  “That sounds like a smart thing to do, Keala. A lot of folks back in Montana counting on us returning alive!” Marsh cursed himself again for nodding off. He knew the Army would have court-martialed him for falling asleep at his post. He eased off the accelerator, letting the Ford slow on its own. He did his once-daily smile as he said, “I guess I don’t even need to pull off the road for this. I hope breaking that habit won’t keep me awake.”

  “I think you're safe on that count, Marsh.” She turned to see John snoring in back. Her eyeballs burned and her eyelids felt heavy. “Early get-ups are tough.”

  Marsh: “I think we’re safe out here. Let’s both catch some shuteye.”

  *****

  Later back en route, a big snowstorm began as the sun came up and the night vision goggles came off. The windshield wipers had trouble keeping up with the heavy, wet snow. The streaking on the glass added to the hazard. The result was more frequent stopping to scrape the windshield free of ice and snow.

  “They don’t make wipers like they used to,” Marsh quipped as all three piled out for the fifth time to clear the windshield. “Those actually did get better over time.”

  “And today we don’t make wipers like we used to. In fact, we don’t even make them at all!” John laughed out loud.

  Not into gallows humor, Keala showed a weak congenial smile. “Tell me, John, do you have wipers on the periscopes of nuclear subs?”

  “I’ll take that as rhetorical,” John answered. “Swap you for riding up front in the shotgun seat?”

  Marsh intervened, “How about me riding shotgun and you driving, John?”

  Later, over the rhythmic thump-squeak, thump-squeak of the windshield wipers, John remarked, “I love the horizontal snow devils dancing along the blacktop ahead of us. The twisty, twirling tufts of snow on an asphalt canvas make absolutely hynotic art. Beats the hell out of television! I’ll take nature’s swirling white flakes any day. It’s like a terrestrial Northern Lights.”

  “Glad you like them, John,” Marsh replied. “When we get you back to submarine duty, you’ll miss these wonders. And for today, a reminder that the grid isn’t everything.”

  Nearing Monida, they saw black smoke following the deep thunk of an explosion. Keala was already rising in the back of the truck when John banged four times on the side of the Ford. They slowed. Once again, an obstacle had been removed. Something had blown away a blockade of cars meant to stop them. Corpses pointed out from the explosion like spokes on a mangled bicycle wheel.

  Keala looked up into the clear, blue dome of a big sky to find their protector. It has to be a drone, she thought. She wished she could see it.

  Up front, Marsh commented, “Looks like we’re on the right side; they weren’t.” The truck resumed its 45 mph pace.

  Past Dillon, Montana, Marsh asked John for a pit stop. John hopped down from driver seat. He spoke quietly to Keala, “No one around. Let’s get a couple antelope.”

  Marsh watched the truck while John and Keala eyed several alert antelope over 200 yards away. Downwind from their prey and behind the truck, John whispered to Keala, “Let’s low-crawl to get closer. Antelope have really good eyesight, but right now they’re transfixed on that plastic bag caught on the fence post. Hopefully, the wind will keep it waving around. You take the nearer one. I’ll fire at the other one right after you.”

  Marsh was fascinated watching the two perform like an infantry patrol sneaking up on the enemy. He admired their tactics, patiently moving through four inches of snow in the low-cut, bristly wheat field.

  Abreast John in a prone position, Keala revised the plan. She whispered a countdown to cue John. Their shots rang out across the plain as if they were one. The spry creatures in the rifles’ crosshairs fell together.”

  John: “Already I know the antelope tastes better than venison!”

  Keala laughed, “And we have a whole outdoors of refrigeration to keep the meat cold! But they’re pronghorn, John — not really antelope.”

  “Looks like you shot a pronghorn, and I got an antelope,” John compromised.

  “Okay,” Keala said. “By the way, most people prefer whitetail deer or mule deer to pronghorn.”

  “Yeah, but this is antelope!” John smirked as he got in the last word.

  *****

  In a field near the bison ranch in Lolo, MT, Cody and Joan awoke to sound of gunfire. Cody saw a young man at his 9:30 position with a rifle, running toward the firefight.

  “Hey, where you headed?” Cody called out.

  The boy yelled, “My dad needs me!”

  Cody ran after the boy. “Hold up, kid, I’ll help!”

  From an irrigation ditch, the two paused to assess the situation. The boy explained. “Must be poachers after our bison. Dad had the last watch.
They’ve got him pinned down.”

  Cody tapped the boy’s shoulder. “I know you’ve got this, but let me try first. I’m a crack shot. Trust me. Stay here with your rifle to back me up. I don’t want you to get hurt. It’ll be okay.”

  Reluctantly, the boy agreed. He recognized the stranger’s face from the newspaper: a famous singer.

  Cody maneuvered to the flank of the poachers, hidden by trees along the irrigation ditch. He shot one. When the remaining rustler stuck his head up to check on his partner, the rancher took him out.

  The rancher was grateful. He left the boy in charge of the herd, and took Cody and Joan to his house. “I wish I could feed everybody. I can’t,” Ted said wistfully.

  Cody answered, “I’m with you, man. Coming through the pass from Idaho, we kept our distance from strangers. But from afar, we could see the hungry, the homeless, and the discouraged. I couldn’t help but wonder whether we were seeing our future selves. It’s soul-crushing. But you’ve got to protect your family.”

  *****

  At the bison ranch house, the wife was quick to recognize the face behind the stubble. “Cody! I should have known. You’re a legend in the Bitterroot Valley, not to mention the whole country. We love your music! I’m June. You’ve met my husband Ted. Our older son, Colter, is out back building a windmill to generate electricity. Now that Andy is joining us for breakfast, Colter will be out watching the herd.”

  After further introductions, everyone sat down at the kitchen table for the breakfast June cooked. Cody went on, “And thank you for recognizing this bearded country singer. Now I’m a man without a band. This whole disaster after New Year’s Eve is like a country song, isn’t it? ‘Lost my job, lost my house, lost my country!’”

  Ted: “Looks like you kept your woman.” June smiled at Ted.

  “Indeed, Joan has been a great partner. We made it here all the way from a New Year's gig in Moscow, Idaho. Had two horses for a while. A mountain lion took care of the other one.” He didn’t tell Ted he had taken this slight excursion from his intended path to barter for meat at the well-known bison ranch.