by Victor Zugg
The driver’s door of the truck swung open and Toby Thomas stepped out. He stood behind the door. “You guys lost?”
Sam stepped a few feet closer. “It’s Sam from Townsend. We met a few days ago.”
“I remember you, Sam,” Toby said. “And Tiff. And Chet. What can I do for you, Sam?”
“Is there a place we can talk?” Sam asked.
Toby looked around the field and then back at Sam. “We can talk here.”
“Can we approach the truck so I don’t have to yell?”
Toby hesitated a few moments and then nodded. “Sure, approach the truck.”
Sam, Tiff, and Chet continued forward until they were within normal talking distance.
“I presume you didn’t walk all the way here,” Toby said. “You hid your Hummer back there in the brush.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, it seemed like the best approach. We didn’t want to just drive up on you.”
Toby nodded. “Okay, what can I do for you?”
Sam glanced at Chet and Tiff. “We’re here to propose a mutual defense pact, of sorts.”
Toby lifted his chin slightly and raised an eyebrow.
“We expect a mad rush of people from Marysville to wash over Townsend in the next day or two,” Sam said. “We’ve formed a militia and built a barricade to protect the town.”
“You can’t protect the town,” Toby said. “You’re fighting a lost cause.”
“We’re really trying to protect ourselves,” Tiff said. “Helping the town fight is better than waiting until the onslaught rings our doorbell.”
“You have something to protect here,” Sam said.
Toby glanced around the field. “Like I said, you’re fighting a lost cause. You can’t hold back what’s coming.”
“What about you?” Sam asked. “Your fields, your operation.”
“Not particularly worried about the fields,” Toby said. “I’m prepared to bug out if I have to. I can set up a new operation at a better time and place. A place with less traffic.”
Sam raised his chin and then looked around at Chet and Tiff hoping they might have a better argument. Neither said anything.
“How about your uncle?” Sam asked. “He would expect you to help.”
“My uncle is dead. I don’t owe the town anything.”
Sam let out a slow exhale and then clinched his jaw. “None of us can survive long on the run. Seems like we need to make a stand, to protect what little we have.”
“You can do that,” Toby said. “I prefer to move on if it comes to it.”
“I’m not being all that convincing, am I?”
“Not really,” Toby said. “But really, there’s nothing you could say that would change my mind. I won’t risk my life for an exercise in futility, not anymore.”
“Rumor has it you and your men are former special forces,” Sam said.
Toby nodded. “Your point?”
Sam pursed his lips. “No point, just making a comment.”
“If there’s nothing else,” Toby said, as he made a move to get back in the truck.
“You know where to find us if you change your mind,” Sam said.
“I know where to find you,” Toby said. He slid back into the seat, started the engine, and made a u-turn in the adjacent field, dodging tree stumps. He returned to the trail and accelerated back the way he came.
“So much for that idea,” Chet said, as he turned and started walking back.
Sam and Tiff followed.
“He has a point,” Tiff said. “What we’re trying to do is a losing proposition.”
“What do you suggest?” Sam asked.
“Forget trying to make a stand with the town,” Tiff said. “Hole up in the cabin as long as possible. Be prepared to bug out, and do so if things get dicey.”
Sam saw Chet glance back. “What do you think?” Sam asked.
“I’ll go along with whatever you want,” Chet said. “But she makes a lot of sense.”
“We can always move farther up into the mountains,” Tiff said.
Sam massaged the back of his neck and then wiped sweat from his face with a sleeve. “Maybe.”
***
Franklin, Tommy, and Jess met Toby when he stepped from the flat bed truck in front of the motorhome.
“Who was it?” Franklin asked.
Toby glanced at Jess. “The boy scouts from town.”
“The blond?” Jess asked. “Tiff?”
“Yes, the blond was with them. Sam and Chet are their names.”
Jess glared at Toby and opened her mouth to speak.
Toby put his finger up. “Don’t start.”
Jess let out a long exhale. “Asshole,” she mumbled, as she turned and walked off.
“What did they want?” Franklin asked.
“They want us to help protect the town.”
“What’d you tell ‘em?” Tommy asked.
“I told them we won’t be joining their party,” Toby said. “Not now, not ever.”
Franklin nodded. “They know the location of the camp.”
“Should we do something about that?” Tommy asked.
Toby scratched his beard a few beats. “No.” He then turned and marched into the motorhome.
***
Chet pulled to a stop in front of the Townsend police department.
Sam hopped out and caught Hank on his way into the building.
“How did it go with Toby?” Hank asked.
“Don’t expect any help from him,” Sam said.
Chet and Tiff caught up to Sam and Hank inside the doors and they all walked to the chief’s office.
“Too bad,” Hank said. “But Bill told me not to get my hopes up.”
“What did you end up doing with the surviving invaders,” Sam asked.
“One died of his wounds,” Hank said. “The other was just grazed. We sent the four of them walking back toward Marysville, minus their weapons.”
“That’s the only thing you could do,” Chet said. “You can’t start housing prisoners.”
Hank nodded.
“Where’s Pete,” Tiff asked.
“On the barricade,” Hank said. “He slept at the lodge last night, and probably for the foreseeable future, as long as he’s willing.”
“So the militia is shaping up?” Tiff asked.
“It is. We have Bill and eighteen men on the line. Six each, in twelve-hour shifts. Plus we have a rapid deployment force of six more, all housed at the lodge. The three six-man groups rotate through the barricade and the RDF.”
“Toby thinks this is all for nothing,” Sam said.
“He’s probably right,” Hank said. “But what are we supposed to do? Where would we go? And besides, so far we haven’t seen the influx of people we were expecting.”
“It’ll be dribs and drabs,” Chet said. “At least initially.”
Hank nodded. “Probably.”
“How’s it going at the school?” Sam asked.
“We’ve had a good turnout of volunteers,” Hank said. “I just came from there. People are starting to donate, at least some of what they have at home. We have people out hunting and fishing. So far it’s coming together. The kitchen should be fully up and running by tonight. We keep one pickup at the lodge for the RDF and emergencies; I keep the other here to ferry meals to the lodge and for whatever else we need. My biggest worry is keeping enough propane for the stove.”
“What you need is a tanker,” Chet said.
“Where is the nearest propane distributor?” Tiff asked.
“Marysville,” Hank said. “Even if the place wasn’t in turmoil, the trucks won’t run. There’s no way to get a tanker from there to here. Can’t pull it with a pickup. Not even the Hummer. And like I said, the place is total chaos by now.”
“A crappy situation, that’s for sure,” Chet said.
“We’re going to head back to the cabin,” Sam said. “We’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
Hank stood up and extended his h
and. “I really appreciate everything you guys are trying to do.”
Sam shook, followed by Chet and Tiff.
“But Toby may be right,” Hank said. “This could all be an exercise in futility.”
“It doesn’t hurt to have a fallback plan, just in case,” Sam said.
Hank nodded.
CHAPTER 14
Sam helped Chet lift a twin box spring and mattress onto the metal bed frame, and then stood back to survey the living space Charlie, Juan, and Diego built within the garage. The three beds salvaged from Dave and Tina’s house fit, with a little room to spare.
“What about sheets and blankets?” Tiff asked, as she slid one of the beds against a wall.
“Your neighbors had plenty,” Charlie said. “They even had a rug that will cover the open area of the concrete floor. The blankets will come in handy. I don’t think you can heat this place for long periods with a kerosene heater, especially at night when everyone is asleep. You’d die of carbon monoxide.”
“There’s one window that could be opened slightly,” Sam said. “But I don’t think it would be enough. Open it all the way and you defeat the purpose of having a heater.”
“Short periods of use should be okay,” Charlie said.
Sam looked around the room. “Where’s Diego?”
“Kitchen,” Charlie said. “He actually caught some fish this afternoon. He’s helping Emma.”
Sam motioned to Chet. “Let’s see what he caught.”
They strolled out of the garage, into the cabin, and into the kitchen. Emma was bent over a pot on the stove.
“I heard we’re having fish for dinner,” Chet said.
“With rice and tomatoes,” Emma said. “We have numerous cans of diced tomatoes.”
Diego entered the back door holding a pan full of fish. He sat the pan on the counter and looked at Emma. “How do you want to cook these?”
“How about roasted over the barbecue,” Sam offered, as he stepped closer to the counter. The pan contained several fairly large trout and two medium bass. “This is amazing, Diego, you caught all these?”
“Yep, Charlie and I found a pretty good fishing hole. And Charlie’s been showing me how to shoot his bow. I almost hit a rabbit yesterday.”
Sam squeezed both of Diego’s shoulders and smiled. “Let’s get that fire started.”
***
Sam took a bite of the fish on his plate and munched as he looked around the table at everyone eating. They seemed relatively happy and joked back and forth while they compared notes on the day’s activities. The group was coming together. A cohesive force. Everyone worked hard each day to make the cabin more into a home. In just a few days they had added significantly to their food stores, had developed a system for baths, toilet, washing clothes, and bringing water to the cabin. They expanded the living quarters to accommodate the additional three people. Sam and Chet still slept in the living room on a sofa, chair, or the floor, but Sam didn’t mind and he was sure Chet didn’t either. They were isolated. Only a handful of people knew the location of the cabin, Bill and Hank being two of them. They had plenty of forest around them for fishing and hunting. They could convert the yard to crops next spring. They had seeds. And they had two working vehicles; although, they wouldn’t have the vehicles for long. There was plenty of gas and diesel to be had from stalled vehicles, especially out on the interstate, but gas and diesel would only be good for six months, maybe a year. After that the fuels would be too gummed up with deposits to fire the engine’s cylinders correctly. So in as little as six more months they would not have the benefit of the vehicles. That would be a problem. The other problem was security. Hungry masses of people were coming. Should they defend the cabin, or devise a fall back plan? A new location. If the latter, it would need to be prepped soon. This was not a decision Sam could make alone. Stay or go, they both had significant risks.
Sam placed his fork on the empty plate before him and cleared his voice.
The chatter died off as each person realized Sam had something to say.
“We need to discuss some things.”
Sam explained that Townsend would not be able to hold back the flood of people, hungry people, which were already heading for the mountains. Probably within a matter of days the town would be overrun. And those people would be pressing on toward the cabin. He explained the two options: defend or fall back. And he explained that they would be without vehicles in as little as six months. So if the decision was made to fall back, they would need to pick a location and get it prepped before winter.
“Is defending the cabin really an option?” Charlie asked. “If four hundred people in town can’t hold back the onslaught, how are we supposed to do it?”
“We’re more isolated,” Tiff said. “We probably would not have to defend against a large mass at once. Probably just smaller groups, a few people at a time. We would need to set up defenses. I think it’s doable.”
“What would falling back involve?” Juan asked.
“It would mean finding a place more isolated,” Sam said. “There would need to be a source of water. We would either need to build some shelter, or use what nature provides. There are caves. I know of a couple of good possibilities.”
“Either option carries significant risks,” Chet said. “Defending means gun battles. It also means having to turn away hungry people. Families. Children. A new place would mean a lot of work, and less shelter from the elements. And there still might be gun battles.”
“Why don’t we do both,” Emma said. “Stay here as long as possible. Move only if we have to.”
Everyone stopped talking and looked at Emma.
“At some point we won’t have vehicles,” Chet said. “Falling back without vehicles would be tough.”
“And falling back under fire would mean certain casualties,” Tiff said.
“For now, why don’t we just scout some locations,” Sam said. “We can decide on when and how to prep based on which location we pick.”
“Tomorrow morning?” Chet asked.
“Yeah,” Sam said, as he looked around the table. “How about if I take Charlie and Juan tomorrow? Chet, you and Tiff can work on setting up some firing positions.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Chet said, as he stood up.
Everyone began clearing dishes.
***
Chet and Tiff waved as Sam backed the Hummer out, turned, and accelerated down the drive.
Tiff turned to Chet. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, since you’re wearing your work clothes, I was thinking of basic defensive fighting positions,” Chet said, “also known as holes in the ground.”
Tiff looked down at her tight jean shorts and hiking boots and then back up to Chet. She smiled and nodded. “Where?”
Chet turned to the open field and the tree line north of the cabin. “Anybody coming up here for the first time will be coming up the road,” Chet said, as he began walking down the drive. He stopped in the middle of Tremont Road and looked both ways. “That way.” He pointed north. “Chances are they won’t even know there’s a cabin until they get to about there.” He pointed to a spot fifty yards up.
“Okay,” Tiff said. “I don’t want to be pinned down in a foxhole, with no avenue of retreat.”
“I don’t either,” Chet said. “If we have a chance, we engage from out here in the trees. Fall back as necessary. We construct three DFPs a little forward of the cabin, one in front, one in the middle, and one back closer to the stream, all facing the north tree line.”
“We trench the three holes together,” Tiff said.
Chet nodded.
“That’s one hell of a lot of digging,” Tiff said.
“We don’t need to do it all today,” Chet said. “Lay out the positions and establish fields of fire. We may need to clear some brush from the tree line, so we have clear lines of fire out to at least a hundred yards. And then we dig.”
Tiff nodded. From the front of the cabin she
began stepping off distances to the tree line and beyond.
Chet retrieved an ax from the garage and followed Tiff.
***
Sam pointed out the windshield. “Tremont Road dead ends right up here,” Sam said.
“That’s only about three miles from the cabin,” Charlie said.
“Right,” Sam said. “The place I have in mind is about three more miles down the middle prong trail, which pretty much follows the Lynn Camp prong of the Little River. Unfortunately, there’s a foot bridge right at the trailhead, so we can’t take the Hummer that way. But there’s an old logging road that will get us back there.”
Sam slowed to a crawl two-hundred yards short of the end of the road and began scanning the tree line to his left. Fifty yards closer to the end he came to a stop, swiped the gear shift, and stepped out. He walked along the edge of the road a few yards, examining the thick foliage. He stopped in front of a slight break in the brush and pushed at some limbs. What he saw was little more than an overgrown path, but the brush on both sides was thin enough for the Hummer to push through. He would have to mow down some bushes, but that would be no problem for the Hummer. He took a few steps farther in until he was satisfied. He was fairly sure this was the logging road he remembered from hiking this area when he was young.
Sam returned to the truck and slid behind the wheel.
“This it?” Charlie asked.
“Fairly sure,” Sam said. “It’s been a long time since anyone drove down this road, but I think it’s still passable.”
“There’s bound to be some downed trees over the road, if you can call it a road,” Charlie said.
“Should I walk ahead, just in case?” Juan asked.
“Wouldn’t want to lose you to a timber rattler,” Sam said. “Better if we stay in the truck.”
Sam shifted into gear, eased forward, and then made the sharp left into the brush. Bushes raked both sides of the metal skin, but the Hummer pushed through with little resistance. After thirty or forty yards, the road opened up a bit, and Sam was better able to manage the overgrowth, avoid trees, and stay on the old road.
The truck bounced over rocks and debris that had built up over years of non-use, and they passed through tight squeezes between new trees. They were making good progress down the road until they came to a large pine trunk over the road, too large for the Hummer to drive over.