by Dave Conifer
Sanitation had the unglamorous but crucial task of designing and building clean bathroom facilities. There’d been sharp disagreement on the subcommittee about basic strategy. Some favored building multiple, smaller facilities around the camp. Others preferred a single, monstrous Outhouse at a central location that everybody would use. Arguments became so heated that members of the Committee had to be brought in to supervise and arbitrate the discussion. In the end, the single-facility proponents won out, not necessarily because it was a better idea, but because it would be less of a distraction to Construction to build a single facility, regardless of its size, than to roam the camp erecting smaller ones.
Like every other project, building the Outhouse sapped Construction of labor and resources. The same team that dug out the foundation for the Water Plant moved to the Outhouse site, where large pits would be needed beneath the building. Del designed and supervised construction of a rudimentary plumbing system by which waste was channeled away into a sealed chamber, the contents of which would be routinely carted away and buried. To alleviate odor, ash from the Smokehouse fires would be dumped regularly into the pits. Del’s system wasn’t fancy, and would still require some gravity-based flushing from time to time, but it would alleviate the strain of running the Outhouse, a facility that would serve at least one hundred and fifty campers.
Linda Brown supervised construction of all three buildings for Food Production, while Nick took charge of the Outhouse and the Water Plant. Mark complained to everybody who’d listen about the lack of progress on the village cabins, but the Committee gave him no choice. Despite his concerns about completing the village before cold weather came, he grudgingly supplied teams of builders for all Tabernacle building projects.
By the time the digging for the Water Plant and outhouse were done, all of the refugees had declared themselves to be recovered. Their kids, the ones that had survived, were shipped back to the school, along with any others who weren’t fit for hard labor. The rest went to work on fortifications. Initially Mark planned on assigning a supervisor. After watching how well they worked on earlier projects, he decided that instead of using one of his own managers, he’d allow Jesse to supervise them. As expected, the fortifications began to appear almost immediately, with little need for intervention by Mark.
There was consternation among a few when Jesse was one of the managers that Mark handed a gun to one morning. As could be expected, Del was the loudest among those who objected. “He’s takin’ care of a bunch of Mexicans!” he argued. “Why do you gotta’ give him a gun?”
Mark didn’t flinch when Del ranted. As far as he was concerned, Jesse and his crew were no different than any other of his work gangs. They needed protection. That was even more true for the refugees, who were out on the fringes of the camp building the walls. If anybody had a problem with arming them, they’d have to take it up with the Committee, who had of course approved Mark’s actions.
The first phase of erecting the fortress was less about walls and more about empty space. A band twenty feet wide was to be completely cleared of trees and brush. This ring would surround the entire camp. The idea behind the design was that if anybody crossed this no-man’s land they’d be easily visible from two directions. Every fifty yards or so a guard stand would be built. From these stands the cleared strip of land would be monitored at all times. The plan would be less effective at night, of course, when darkness would make observation difficult or impossible. On the other hand, the same darkness would make invasion of the camp that much harder.
The Transportation subcommittee, which Nick thought was an awfully fancy name for a couple of mechanics, had been busy too. There were actually only two members of the subcommittee: Carly Loder and her father, Hal. They needed a garage, of course. Mark and his builders were largely off the hook for this one, because the boathouse down by the lake, with its high ceilings and wide doors, were perfect for their needs. Only a few hours worth of enhancements were needed, all taken care of by Linda Brown.
The scavengers were used heavily by Transportation, however. Carly and her father had created the fleet of cars and trucks by salvaging vehicles, parts and materials from automotive junkyards. In order to continue their work, they would need more of the same. Day by day, their new, on-site storage depot grew as hulks of cars and trucks, the older the better, were pulled from scrap heaps all across Central Jersey and transported to Tabernacle. “You’re no Sanford and Son yet,” Nick joked to Carly, “but you’re getting there.”
The scavengers helped build the fuel supplies as well. Whenever they came across a service station that didn’t look looted, they checked the underground storage tanks. When they found gasoline or diesel fuel they jotted down the location and arranged for the tankers to be dispatched to pick it up. The only problem was turning out to be where to store it. The three tanker trucks, already based in the woods at Tabernacle, were nearly full already.
Finally, after all the ancillary needs for builders were met, Mark was able to throw his entire subcommittee back into building cabins. By then, enough kits had been assembled and trucked over to the village that units could be built as soon as there were carpenters to build them. From that point, construction went quickly. With different workers specializing on specific tasks, the cabins went up at the astounding rate of five or six per day.
The cabins were basic, but they were soundly built and would last through many winters. There were no windows, bathrooms or kitchens. In the corner was a simple wood stove, with a basic chimney made of metal ductwork. Each boasted only a single door in the front. They weren’t built to pass modern building codes, but they’d definitely be adequate for their purpose. Their occupants would be warm, too, all walls having been equipped with heavy strips of insulation that had been part of the bounty of the Home Depot runs.
They had no choice but to build at this frenetic pace. The bite of the oncoming winter was already being felt at the beginning and end of every work day. It wouldn’t be long before everybody would be moving out permanently to Tabernacle. They simply had no choice but to get it done. It was the same for every subcommittee. Everybody was running out of time.
~~~
One night at the camp, after the overnighters had their standard meal of venison, cranberries and water in the Food Distribution Center, Nick was ambling back to the village when Linda popped up out of nowhere. “Hey,” she said. “Are you getting as tired of that dinner as I am? Reminds me of those TV dinners I ate when I was a kid. Those aluminum trays with the different compartments.”
“Yeah,” Nick said. “Except here they always have the same stuff in them. No more Salisbury steak or apple cobbler, huh?”
“I remember that one,” Linda said as she walked alongside. “So I guess it’s back to the girl’s cabin for me. Gossip time, coming right up.”
“Can’t beat having some friends to talk to, right?” Nick asked. He knew there were still some empty cabins, and he knew that Linda knew there were. She was up to something.
“Eh. I’m not much of a gossiper,” she said. “How about you? You got any roommates? You’re alone in your place, right?”
“Yup,” Nick said. “I’m all by myself, for some reason. No roommates.”
She stopped and grabbed his arm. “You looking for one? I mean, I wouldn’t mind a night away from the slumber party.”
Nick was taken aback. He hadn’t seen this coming from Linda. Nobody covered this at the subcommittee meetings. “Um,” he said. “Well, you know, I’m kind of used to being alone right now. It’s been a while since my divorce.”
She let go and started walking again. “Yeah, sure, I get it.”
Nick caught up to her. “Look, I’m sorry, Linda. I hope you’re not mad or anything. It’s not that you’re—“
“Of course not,” she said. Why would I be? It’s just camp talk, right?”
“Yeah, right,” he said, although he had no idea what that meant. They walked the rest of the way to the village in an
awkward silence. When their paths were about to diverge, Linda turned and fist-bumped him without a word before heading back to her cabin.
Nineteen
“I’m not sure what you’re thinking, Dewey,” Sarah said. “But this is my home. I didn’t find my husband, but this is a way for me not to leave empty-handed. I’m planning on bringing my neighbors out with me. As many as I can.”
“You are?” Dewey asked. “I mean, like, me too, I guess.”
“Thank you,” Kelly said, looking like she was on the verge of tears. “You’re the only chance we have. Do you really think you can do it?”
Sarah pulled out the pistol and showed it to Kelly. “How sure are you that they’ve shot out all their ammo?”
Kelly considered this. “Very,” she finally said. “It was like a shooting gallery at first. I haven’t heard a shot in almost a month. I know these guys by now. If they had it, they’d be shooting it.”
“Then yes, I think we can get this done,” Sarah answered. “How about vehicles? Do they have any?”
“Uh, at first it seemed like they did,” Kelly said. “There were a bunch of motorcycles, and they had a big truck. The kind of truck that can carry a car on the back.”
“Like, a flatbed?” Dewey asked.
“I don’t know what you call it,” Kelly answered.
“Dewey, you don’t have to get involved in this,” Sarah said. “It’s not your neighborhood. You know the way back.” She knew what his response would be even as she said it.
“No way. I’ll help,” Dewey said.
“Good. But we need to come up with a plan,” Sarah said. “And before we have a plan, we need information. Everything you can tell us about where the little ones are being held, Kelly. Do you stay in the same place they are?”
“In the Jailhouse? No, we live next door. Some of The Men live downstairs in our house, and some live in the Jailhouse,” Kelly explained. She glanced back at the lake. “Sorry, but I better go now,” she said. “I’ve been out way too long already. It doesn’t feel right.”
“Okay,” Sarah said. “Can you make it back later to talk this through?”
“We should be able to,” Kelly said. “They don’t watch us like they watch the kids. Especially at night. Can we meet up really late? Like, maybe, one in the morning? Sometimes they stay up and party, but never past midnight.”
“If you’re upstairs, and they’re downstairs in the same house, like, how will you get out tonight?” Dewey asked.
“Out the window onto the porch roof, then we jump down onto the hill behind the house,” Kelly answered. “We’ve done it a lot.”
“How about we meet even later than one o’clock?” Sarah asked. “Maybe two? Then Dewey and I can pick a house to stay in between now and then. It’ll give us some time to get some sleep.”
“Okay,” Kelly said. “We’ll be there. All of us, if we can get out. Where at?”
“What’s easy for you?” Sarah asked. Dewey suggested Sarah’s house, but Sarah vetoed it. It wasn’t home to her anymore, and there was somebody there she didn’t want to see again. Kelly suggested that they meet right where they were, at the bridge, which would work well since they’d likely be arriving by water. They all nodded their agreement, and Kelly shoved off in the boat to return to the cove.
~~~
They watched Kelly row away without a word, but didn’t waste any more time. There was a lot of planning to do. They broke into the nearest house, searched futilely for food and water, and then settled in. Even without knowing what Kelly would tell them about the hostages, they were able to make some plans for the rescue. When that was done, they napped until dark and then went outside and moved secretly around the neighborhood, taking mental notes and making preparations.
Along the way they came across a truck very much like the one Kelly described. After checking for keys, Sarah considered disabling it, but decided not to. Maybe they could find a way to use it themselves. She came to a different decision about the two motorcycles parked behind the truck, a Kawasaki and a Yamaha. She hadn’t met Kelly’s friends yet, but she had no reason to think any of them knew how to ride one. She and Dewey spent a few minutes slashing tires and yanking wires before moving on.
As planned, Kelly met them back at the bridge in the middle of the night. She’d brought two other boys, who were introduced as Albert and Robert Jackson. Sarah remembered their parents; they were the only black family she knew of on the lake. Once the introductions were complete, they all returned to Sarah and Dewey’s temporary headquarters to talk about the rescue.
“I thought you were bringing the entire crew,” Sarah said. “Where’s the rest of them?”
“The men were still awake,” Kelly said. “They might need something, so somebody’s got to be around. Sorry, we can’t do anything about it.”
Robert looked to be about seventeen years old. The expression on his face made it clear that he was seething about the predicament they were in. If he had it his way, the raid would begin immediately. Sarah was sure that whoever these men were, Robert wanted nothing more than the chance to take at least one of them out, and he didn’t want to wait another minute. His brother Albert, thoughtful and soft-spoken, seemed somehow older than Robert but was only thirteen. He spent most of the meeting talking his brother’s hostility down and redirecting his anger where it belonged.
It was agreed that, like most raids, darkness and surprise would greatly enhance the chance of success, especially if The Men were in a deep sleep. So the attack was planned for the next night, at two hours past midnight. That gave everybody, especially Sarah and Dewey, twenty-four hours to complete their preparations. Most of them had to be done before sunup in order to stay out of view of The Men.
Later, when all the work was done and plans were firm, Sarah allowed herself to think about Eli’s ring, still on her index finger. It put hope in her heart, but now she used her mind to dampen that hope. Yes, he wore that ring a lot, but no, he didn’t wear it all the time. It’s presence in the house didn’t mean he’d returned from Boston at all. There was no point in believing it did, no matter how badly she wanted to. He hadn’t been there. There was no reason to believe otherwise.
~~~
Kelly and the teens arrived quietly by boat at the bridge at one o’clock that night, where they were met by Sarah and Dewey. All of them crept in the dark to the house and went inside. “They look like a couple of surfer dudes,” Dewey whispered to Sarah about the two boys they’d never met before. “I don’t know about this.”
“I’m sure they’re saying something like that about you, too,” she whispered back.
After retreating to an interior room, where nobody would see the light from outside, Dewey lit some candles. They all took seats around the long table to begin planning the attack. There was no shortage of ideas.
Kelly, Robert and Albert, whom they’d already met, were there of course. The two other kids, introduced as Ethan and Chris, behaved as if they were close friends. Based on her observations of the boys her daughters hung around with, Sarah guessed that both of them spend a lot of time on skateboards. Both appeared to be the same age as Kelly, but of course it was hard to tell with teens.
Ethan and Chris seemed so similar, both in appearance and their mannerisms, that it was hard not to think of them as brothers. Both had long stringy hair, Ethan’s was so dark that it looked Goth-like, while Chris’s was blond. Both were lighthearted and witty, so much so that Sarah secretly worried about how they’d handle their very serious roles in the raid. But these five kids were all they had. They would have to make it work.
~~~
The attack began at the Jailhouse, after the entire raiding party had returned in stealth by boat, docking it before they reached the cove and covering the rest of the way on foot. All five of the teens carefully slipped into position outside the Jailhouse. Each knew their job. Ethan, Albert and Kelly were spread across the front of the house. Robert and Chris, who Sarah and Dewey were warne
d only answered to his last name, Gygax, were at the front door with Dewey and Sarah. In Dewey’s arms was part of a concrete barrier from the clubhouse parking lot, a makeshift battering ram that he’d practice with on a dozen front doors during the day.
Sarah had the pistol and all the ammunition she had left, with the heaviest magazine already loaded. She wasn’t entirely sure how many rounds were left among the three magazines, but based on everything she’d learned, there’d be enough to go around so long as she was careful.
They’d decided to expend as much effort and ammunition as needed at the Jailhouse, before The Men had a chance to wake up and get organized. After that they’d improvise. Everybody carried a homemade spear, the ends whittled to sharp points. Other spears had been carefully placed at strategic points in the yard, to be picked up and used if needed. Robert had a club, but nobody else did; except for Dewey, he was the only one with the size and strength to get in a good swing that could make a difference. Robert and Gygax each carried homemade torches, made of broom handles with the ends wrapped in rags soaked in outboard motor fuel.
Sarah checked the magazine in her Glock a final time and then nodded to the rest of them. While Robert and Gygax lit their torches, Dewey bashed at the door with the ram. The entire frame splintered at the lock, and the door fell away in one swing. The torch-carriers rushed passed him into the small house. Sarah followed closely, the pistol raised and ready to shoot.
The room was bathed in an orange glow, thanks to the torches. It was bright enough for Sarah to see multiple targets, some of whom were already stirring after the noisy break-in. She went to work with the gun. Ten seconds later, seven of them were down, and they’d stay down. Dewey and Robert had already charged up the stairs. Sarah and Gygax quickly followed after confirming that there were no survivors on the first floor.