by N. C. Reed
The common house was finally finished as November approached, and school was moved there. For now the children walked to school, escorted by the older children, including Danny and Trey. Toby usually walked along with them, just for good measure. The children that were armed kept their weapons with them, even in school.
Billy had gotten Trey to the range, but the boy was still hesitant with the shotgun they had selected for him, so he didn’t go armed, usually. As he grew more comfortable, that would change, but for now only Mary and Danny carried weapons.
With work slowing, Billy started working on his new barn. He cut the logs, and began to learn how to notch them from Ben. Almost everyday, others would join them, assisting with the work. Billy took the small track hoe they had brought to the farm and added a root cellar to the new barn at Rhonda’s request. That added to the time needed to finish the barn, but Billy figured it would be worth it to have the root cellar.
It helped that Billy didn’t need or want a floor inside. It was a barn, he reasoned, not a house. A dirt floor would be more than adequate.
A week before Thanksgiving, Ben put the finishing touches on the roof. Billy was very pleased with the new structure.
“Ben, whatever you need or want from me, you got it,” he told the older man. “This is great!”
“Well, you did a lot of the work yourself, Billy,” Ben pointed out.
“Couldn’t o’ done it without you,” Billy shook his head. “What can I do for you?” Ben looked down at the ground for a minute, then sighed.
“Regina needs some. . .well, some woman stuff,” he shrugged finally. “I got no idea where to come by it.”
“No problem,” Billy assured him. He went straight to his small shop building and returned in just a moment with a large box of the ‘stuff’ that Regina needed.
“I took this when I was still in town,” Billy explained at Ben’s look. “I figured someone would need it or want it down the road. Already gave the most of it away, but I still got this here. That work?”
“Billy, you’re a miracle,” Ben shook his head with a chuckle. “Man, this’ll make me her knight in shining armor, sure enough!” Ben’s face was lit up like a Christmas tree. Remembering that Ben had lost his first wife to the plague, Billy wondered how long it had been since the man had been truly happy.
“Take it with my thanks,” Billy told him. “And anything else you might need and I got some of you just name it.”
“Billy, I don’t know of a thing I really need, and this will really put me in good with Regina,” he grinned. “And it ain’t like I don’t owe you, ya know.”
“Don’t owe me nothin’,” Billy insisted. “If you think you did, stop thinkin’ it. If we ain’t even now, it’s cause I owe you. Hear?”
“I hear,” Ben nodded. “If I think of something I’ll holler. Fair enough?”
“More than,” Billy agreed. “Thanks again, Ben. And take care.”
*****
With the weather growing colder, it was decided to have their Thanksgiving dinner in the new ‘blockhouse’. The building was finished now, and had amenities, so all that was required was to move the tables and chairs that were normally kept at Billy and Rhonda’s down there.
The building had turned out very nice, Billy thought. It was sturdy, and could probably hold off an attack from anything up to a tank or artillery. He hoped they never saw an attack, but the building’s presence was a comfort.
Everyone brought favorite foods, music, and games, and the community made a day of it. Everyone finished their chores that morning, so that all that was left to do was enjoy. The weather was pleasant, with the temperature climbing into the low sixties by noon. There was a slight wind blowing wisps of clouds around, and it was just overall a nice day.
Pete and Shelly left after two hours to relieve Howie and Elizabeth at the security station. This let both newlywed couples enjoy both the dinner, and some privacy on their first Thanksgiving as man and wife.
Billy danced with Rhonda, and then with Mary, but then walked outside, as the noise and the press of people started to get to him. Rhonda understood, and smiled when he told her he needed air. She took Billy as he was, flaws and all, just as he did her.
Sitting outside, Billy paused to reflect on the last six months or so. It had been a wild and hectic year, but a productive one all the same. They had added people to their community, stymied a possible threat, at least for the time being, and had a good harvest. They would survive another winter, if nothing bad happened. All of the houses were equipped to deal with the winter weather, since they now had a good idea of what to expect. Roofs had been strengthened on every building, and the new structures built with the weight of deep, heavy snow in mind.
There was hay and to spare, safely tucked away in a total of five barns, and plenty of feed too. All in all, Billy had to believe that this year had been a good one, and they had much to be thankful for.
He was still feeling good about things when Terry found him.
“We got some news, Billy.”
*****
“Train hit again,” Pete said without preamble. “Paid a visit to our friends in Centerville, it seems. We heard radio traffic from both sides this time. Train finally pulled out. Their bosses decided there wasn’t enough reward for the risk involved.”
“They’re headed south,” he finished, looking at Billy, who suddenly leaned forward.
“Are they now?” Terry looked between the two of them for a moment.
“What?” he demanded finally.
“Well,” Billy said slowly, “I got me a plan. . . .”
*****
“There is absolutely no reason at all to do this,” Terry shook his head. “They aren’t coming near us. No tracks near us. Nothing. Let them go.”
“Sooner or later, they’ll come to call,” Billy shrugged. “And this here is a good chance to stop’em for good. Might not get another.”
“I’m in,” Dillon Branch said at once. “Hell, I like this idea!”
“I’ll go,” Toby nodded.
“Me too, I guess,” George nodded.
“No,” Billy shook his head. “Just me, Pete and Dillon. No more. Just in case.” He didn’t add just in case ‘we don’t come back’, but he didn’t have to, either. They were all thinking it.
“Billy, I admit it’s a good idea,” Terry tried again, “but it’s risky, and there’s no reason to do it. None.”
“I disagree,” Jerry surprised them all. “Billy’s right. That bunch has been a thorn in our side since the beginning. And sooner or later, we’ll see’em come sweepin’ though here. If there’s a chance to get rid of’em, I say it’s worth taking.”
“We’re goin’,” Billy said flatly. “And the sooner the better. We ain’t got long. May already be too late. I’m headed home to get my stuff. Ya’ll comin’ best do the same. We got thirty minutes.” With that he was up and gone. He called Rhonda, and spoke to her. She immediately followed him home. Pete stood and went to find Shelly, and soon they, too, were on their way.
Dillon spoke quietly to his sister for just a minute, then kissed her on top of the head, and went home to gear up. Barbara didn’t object, but was visibly upset.
The other men watched, saying nothing.
*****
“I don’t understand,” Rhonda argued. “Why now?”
“Best chance we’ll ever have to stop’em,” Billy told her, hurriedly gathering his things. “They’re on the right track, headin’ the right way, for this to work. Might never get this good a shot at’em again.”
“Billy, there’s too many of them!” she protested.
“We ain’t gonna fight’em straight up,” Billy assured her. “Gonna trap’em nice and neat, and let nature do the work for us, as far as she will. Timin’ couldn’t really be no better, considerin’.”
“Please be careful,” Rhonda’s voice was soft.
“I promise,” Billy nodded. “And I’ll be back, and we’ll have us a wedd
in’. I mean it. We ain’t goin’ to start a war, just ta finish one. We do this right, won’t be nothin’ left to worry about. Okay?”
Rhonda nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Instead, she hugged him desperately, fighting her tears.
“I gotta go,” he said finally. “Ain’t got much time.”
“I love you, Billy,” she said tearfully.
“Love you too, woman,” he grinned.
And then he was gone.
*****
Pete looked at the gear, and nodded. Dillon looked at the gear and got a hungry gleam in his eye.
“Oh, this will be fun!” he enthused.
“Let’s just make sure it’s done,” Billy shrugged. “We got ever thing?”
“We do,” Pete nodded. “Let’s get moving. Clock’s against us already.”
With everything loaded and ready, the three piled into the Hummer and took off, all three silent, drawn into their own thoughts.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
The track that the Train was using was an old one. Reworked many times since it’s original construction, it was still in use because it had never been cost effective to replace. There was one weakness, however, along this track, that Billy felt could be exploited.
A long trestle, crossing the Duck River and it’s surrounding flood plain, was rather aged. Recent rains should have left the flooded river high, and the trestle had three weight bearing spans that crossed the river and it’s flood plain. The plain was empty save for a few trees, with no one living closer than three miles. The area was desolate, far from anything but back roads, and absent of any immediate assistance for someone who found themselves in a bind.
And that was before the fall of the world.
It was perfect for what Billy had in mind.
*****
“Assumin’ the Train don’t stop nowhere ‘fore it gets here, I figure we’ll have about a hour, once we get there,” Billy explained, indicating the map as Pete pushed the Hummer faster and faster.
“So what’s the plan?” Dillon asked, leaning forward from the back seat.
“I got eight pounds o’ C-4, and some det cord, and a radio detonator.”
“Where in the hell did you get that?” Pete asked.
“Found it,” Billy shrugged. “I also got three gallons o’ homemade napalm,” he added. “What I’m thinkin’, we string the ‘explosives on the bridge supports on either side o’ the river. They're old, and prob’ly not in the best o’ shape. We can hang the napalm jars, all in quarts, and once the fireball goes, I think they’ll go with it. If not, we can shoot’em, and the napalm’ll just shower down on’em.”
“You know it won’t work that easy, right?” Dillon asked. “I mean, it sounds like you thought it out okay, but I’m just sayin’.”
“I know,” Billy nodded. “But if any of it works, then we’ll hurt’em, at least. Right?”
“Yeah,” Dillon nodded. “It’ll hurt, no matter what.”
“And I think I got something that’ll take the engine down, no matter what. Leave’em stranded if nothin’ else, on the trestle.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out five fifty caliber rounds.
“Is that. . . .”
“Yep,” Billy nodded. “Three 211's, and two SLAP’s. I think that should hurt the lead engine, and the second one, too, if I can hit’em.”
“The Raufoss will do more damage, for sure,” Pete commented. “The AP’s will likely penetrate the skin, and the bullet will do some damage. No way of knowing how much, though. Depends on where you hit it.”
“I thought I’d try to hit the engineer’s compartment with them,” Billy admitted. “I was hopin’ it would do some damage to the instruments and controls.”
“Sounds like your best bet,” Pete nodded.
“How far away are we?” Dillon asked as Billy loaded the magazine for his rifle.
“Another twenty minutes, I figure.”
*****
The water was high all right.
“Well, shit,” Dillon muttered. “What now?”
“We’ll have to get on the track back there,” Pete pointed the way they came. “We’ll get as close as we can, and hump the rest of the way.”
“This is gonna be tight,” Dillon pointed out.
“We can make it,” Billy promised. “Let’s go.”
Pete maneuvered the Hummer as close as possible to the tracks, finding a flat spot along the tracks.
“Ya know,” Dillon mused thoughtfully, “this thing could probably make it down the tracks.”
“Think so?” Pete asked, judging the track.
“Well, this thing ain’t nothin’ like as wide as a train engine,” Billy shrugged. “We’d have to go all the way on down to get off, or come back this way, in reverse. Ain’t no place to turn around. And we sure don’t wanna be on that trestle when the train gets here.”
“Give us a lot more time, we ain’t got to hump all this stuff down there,” Dillon said.
“All right, we’ll try it,” Pete nodded, conscious of the time factor.
He eased up onto the track bed, working to keep the tires on the ties, and off the rails. Soon they were bumping along at the blinding speed of five miles per hour. It was a rugged ride, but in mere minutes they were on the trestle.
“You guys get the C-4?” Billy asked.
“I can,” Dillon nodded. “Used it more’n once. Or twice, for that matter,” he grinned.
“Then I’m gonna set the napalm. I just got an idea that’ll make it more workable, I think. There’s twelve jars, and I got some of them cannon fuses. I can use them, hook’em to a treble hook, and let the train set’em off for us.”
“Damn, that’s a good idea,” Pete said approvingly. “Need help?”
“Get the C-4 first,” Billy shook his head. “Then you guys can help me finish.”
*****
The three of them worked fast, but very carefully. Pete and Dillon worked on the two center supports, packing the weakest points around them with the explosives. After looking at the trestle for a few minutes, Dillon had decreed that there was enough to sabotage two supports, instead of one, and still bring them down.
“Trick is to weaken’em with the blast,” he told Pete. “Ain’t got to bring’em down. Weight of the train’ll do that just fine, I’d say.”
“You sure?” Pete asked, worried.
“Did it before,” Dillon shrugged. “Three or four times, maybe,” he added vaguely. “And at least twice on trestles in better shape than this one.”
“Where?” Pete asked, curious.
“Here and there,” Dillon shrugged. “Don’t matter none, now, I reckon.” With that he concentrated on what he was doing. Pete decided he wouldn’t ask again.
Billy meanwhile was strapping the jars of napalm to the supports along the bridge. Each one had a hole hastily punched into the lid, and one of his brass cannon fuses taped in place in the hole, pointing straight down into the volatile substance. He staggered the jars from side to side, working his way toward the far end. There wasn’t enough to cover everything, so he tried to guess where things would be when the train reached this point, and place the jars accordingly.
To each fuse was tied a piece of green cotton twine. It was the best color that Billy could come up with not to show up enough to give any warning. He pulled the twine from each fuse to the end of the bridge, where a treble hook was attached. Once he was finished, all the treble hooks would be left to drag a few inches above the track, where the engine would catch them, pulling the fuses.
“That’s pretty damn ingenious,” Dillon observed, and he climbed back onto the tracks. Pete nodded.
“It’s just a back up, but it might hurt’em some,” Billy shrugged, checking the lines one more time.
“Reckon we better git,” Billy said, rising to his feet. “I can feel the tracks vibratin’.”
All three men scurried to the truck. Pete hit reverse and started backing the way they had come, not nearly as slow or caref
ul as he had been on the trip down.
“Be careful, buddy, or we’ll be stuck here!” Dillon shouted, bouncing in the rear seat as he tried to watch out the back and stay out of Pete’s vision at the same time.
“We don’t get off this trestle, we go swimming!” Pete shouted back. “Or worse!”
“True,” Dillon murmured.
“And we can’t go forward, count o’ the hooks!” Billy added. “This is our only way out.”
It seemed like forever before the track started to level out, or rather that the sharp drop off from the rail bed started to rise. As soon as there was room, Pete slid to a halt, and started looking for a place to get off the tracks. With the engine idling, Billy leaned out of the window.
“I can hear it,” he said calmly. “Gettin’ close.”
“I’m working on it!” Pete replied. He aimed the truck for a low spot, and eased it downward. Suddenly the water drenched bank gave, and the Hummer lurched down and to the left.
The Hummer hung in mid-air on two wheels. Everyone froze, waiting to see what happened.
In the distance, the noise of the train became louder. The vibrations of the approaching locomotive, and it’s cars, could be felt through the left rear tire, still hung on the tracks. There was no time to panic, or else all three would have. Instead, they simply waited. Billy clung to the grab bar on his side for all he was worth, knowing if he let go, his shifting weight would send the truck over onto it’s side.
Dillon was still in the middle of the rear seat, his eyes wide as he tried to hold his place. One hand on the gun mount above him, another wrapped around the safety harness, locked into a painful fist. He, too, knew that if his grip failed, they would overturn.
Pete took a deep, careful breath, afraid to move more than that. He could hear the train coming just as well as the others, but there was nothing he could do but wait. He strained to hold the wheel against the front left tire that wanted to turn, and follow the impetus of the vehicle that wanted to turn over. His mind went through a dozen calculations in a split second, and all of them ended in failure. No matter what he chose to do, it wouldn’t help.