“You’re welcome,” I said. We climbed back down into the Underground and cleaned the weapons in the shop. We put everything away afterwards and sat in the den with a tumbler of scotch for me and he had bourbon with ice. We sat quietly looking out the big window at the valley below, enjoying the view and the liquor.
I heard Ruth come into the Underground and when she came in the den she said, “I figured you two were in here when the noise stopped. Hit anything?”
“The tree’s gone,” I answered.
“Gone?” she said.
“Yep, he got it with the fifty,” I told her.
“Good shooter, then,” she observed.
“Yep, pretty dang good shooter. Said his Dad taught him.”
“Your Dad?” she asked him.
“Dad was a Marine and knew how to shoot and he used his Marine Corps training to teach us,” Chet told her.
Ruth had popped the cork on a bottle of Bordeaux, poured herself another glass and sat with us. She looked at Chet and asked, “You think your Dad is still alive?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he answered. I don’t think my brother or sister are still alive either.”
“Where did they live,” I asked.
“Up in Wheatland; my Dad and sister that is. My brother – he’s older than I am - moved up to Casper and was working in the oil fields somewhere. I haven’t heard from him in…well, for over four years now. Dad and sis lived up on the northeast side of town and with all the dead folks walking around up there; I wasn’t able to go see if they were okay.” He hung his head and I could tell he was saddened.
“Sorry to have brought back bad memories,” I told him.
“It’s okay. I guess we all have bad memories to face these days, huh?”
“Yes, we do,” Ruth assured him. “Come on, you two, pour yourselves another toddy and let’s go down for some dinner, how ‘bout soup and crackers tonight.”
“Sounds perfect,” Chet, said with a smile.
We had some of Ruth’s vegetable and chicken noodle soup with crackers and carrot spears. A steaming bowl of that with fresh, cold milk was always a hit. After dinner, the three of us spent some time with Sam and the kids. One of the female pups took to Chet and rough housed with him in front of the fireplace.
I soon fell asleep in my recliner. The warmth of the fire and the quiet after Chet and the pups settled down got to me and I took what Ruth calls a ‘pre-sleep’ nap, or a nap before going to bed. I was tired as Chet and I had moved dirt and boulders most of the day. Tomorrow we would do the same until about mid-afternoon, when we would break to clean up prior to leaving for the Malone’s place.
Ruth, curled up in the other recliner, was making some notes for tomorrow night’s roundtable meeting. Chet had sprawled out on the couch and was soon asleep himself. The puppies were snuggled up against Sam in the library. All was well in Paradise Valley.
Next morning found me making coffee and breakfast. I’d already started the fire and the big room was beginning to warm up. I looked outside and the sky was clear but there was a cool wind out of the northwest. I looked at the thermometer on the porch and it said it was forty-three degrees. That meant with the wind, the wind chill took it down in the thirties. I’d be putting extra layers on this morning and the temp and wind made me wonder if a snow might be coming.
Chet stepped out and said, “A little brisk this morning, huh?”
“Yeah, I’ve already decided to add some layers before we go out. I’m wondering if we’re about to get a storm. Smell the humidity in the air?”
“Sure do, feels almost heavy. Does that usually mean a storm around here?”
“Yeah. Maybe it’ll pass to the north though. That would be nice and give us more time to beef this place up. I’m going to work along the south side of the creek today, adding some more boulders. Would you take the ATV with the wood trailer up the road near Centennial and cut us some more bracing logs for the fence?”
“That’d be fun, sure. How many we need?”
“I figure twenty, eight-footers should do. Might stop down there and look how we cut them.”
“Okay. The biscuits were just about done when I came out…I checked. Coffee should be ready too.”
I smiled at him, turned for the door and said, “Come on, then, let’s eat and get busy.”
Breakfast was cold cereal, hot biscuits with peach jam and coffee. Good stuff. I was about to go upstairs when Chet opened the refrigerator and got out a few pieces of leftover ham slices. He took two biscuits, sliced them in two and put the ham in between the halves, then wrapped the two in a paper towel and put them in his farm jacket pocket. He looked at me and smiling, said, “A snack for later,” and left for the garage.
I quietly got my extra layers, threw two more logs on the fire and with Sam on my heels, left the house for the garage. I started the tractor and let it warm up some. The garage door opened, and Chet pulled out in an ATV. I saw the chain saws and other wood cutting tools in the back and he swung it around to the wood trailer. I jumped out of the tractor to help him hook up the trailer and with a wave, he was off down the lane.
I heard him stop down below and knew he was looking at the logs we already had in place to brace the fence. It was just a few minutes and I heard the ATV heading east to the main road. I drove the tractor down the lane, turned into the meadow on the south side and began moving dirt and rock.
I decided to make it as difficult as I could for a person walking. I dug trenches about twelve to fifteen inches deep, and as wide as the bucket was, five feet, moving that dirt and material to the embankment I was forming along the creek. This meant if anyone approached the house from the meadow, an enemy would have to maneuver through the trenches, slowing them considerably. That would give us more time to target them and fire. If the trenches got wet, muddy, and slippery from rain or snow, so much the better; and they were not deep enough to use as cover.
That was my mission for the day, to make the north and south sides of the lane difficult to maneuver through. I’d use shallow trenches, additional boulders, piles of thorn bushes I cut, and strands of barbed wire I ‘borrowed’ from fence lines around the valley.
It was about noon when Chet pulled up with his load of bracing timbers. He saw what I was doing with the front-end loader. I saw him get up on the back of the bed of the ATV and survey what I’d already done. He jumped down and got a machete out of the back and going over to the scrub-oak, he cut a limb about an inch in diameter into a six-inch piece. He sharpened both ends and going over to one of the trenches, stuck the stake in at a slant, with the upper pointed end leaning to the east. Punji stakes! Yes, I remember from my Vietnam War history information.
He looked at me and I gave him a thumb up, understanding that even a three-inch stake may not kill, but would inflict an irritating and possibly serious wound if someone fell on it. I knew then I would make punji pits, similar to what the Viet Cong did. It was a pit about a twelve to eighteen inches square and about eighteen to twenty-four inches deep. In the bottom, sharpened punji stakes were set in the ground, sticking up. Along the sides, other sharpened stakes lined the sides, both in an upward and downward angle. This would hinder pulling a leg out once caught in the pit thus slowing an advancing enemy.
Chet climbed back up to the ATV. I’d finished the northern side of the lane and drove the tractor back up onto the lane and parked behind the trailer with the lumber. “I’m thinking punji stake pits like in the Vietnam War,” I said as I hopped down.
“You’re reading my mind then,” Chet said with a smile. “I think putting in a bunch of those would be ideal, along with a bunch of stakes like the one I just stuck in.”
“I think they would do nicely,” I said. “Not too many animals get into those meadows in the front, so I’m not worried about one getting stuck. We can use the posthole digger with the tractor here, and square off the holes, set the stakes and camo the pits with something.”
“We can draw up a plan tomorrow
and start then,” Chet said. “I was thinking, too, about your front yard. Other than it making snow removal harder, it might be beneficial to put in a dirt wall, sort of like a battlement or a rampart. We could use it as cover and fallback to the house if necessary, then up to the Underground for a final stand.”
“How high would it need to be?” I asked him.
“Maybe three feet or so,” he said. “I think we could approach the wall at a run, bent over. From down there,” he said pointing to the flats, “they wouldn’t be able to see us over the parapet lip. We could lay behind it and fire down into them.”
“We could certainly do that from the north side of the lane around the garage to the lip of the mountain,” I said looking that way. “It would be difficult for snow removal on the south side, like you said. However, I think we could make a couple of small ones between the lane and the barn…maybe three of ‘em about four feet wide, kind of like the teeth or crenellations on a castle wall.”
“Oh, I get it, an interspaced approach leaving lanes to move snow through in winter. That’s a good idea.”
“You say about three feet high?”
“I think that would do, looking at the angle from here to the lip of the drive up there,” he said pointing to the lip of the front yard to the west. “We can look and use the best spots that would give cover from the front door of the house to the lip of one of the things.”
“I can move the dirt from the pits we dig up there and drop it. We can form the things afterwards using the blade on the truck to push the dirt.”
“Looks like more planning for tonight,” Chet said with a smile.
We began hauling the lumber to the fence and set up the bracings in areas we thought were weak. We had a few of the logs left over when we finished, and suddenly Chet stood up and turned to look up the hill to the house.
“What?” I said.
“Hang on a second and let me think,” he answered.
I could really see the wheels turning in his mind and slowly a smile came to his face. He turned to me and said, “We need more logs, six to twelve feet and ten inches in diameter and larger - probably fifty or sixty of them.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’m thinking log battlements…vertical log battlements. Almost like the…I think they called them Hesco bastions…but with logs.”
“Hesco bastions? I’m not familiar with that.”
“It was like a big cardboard box surrounded with heavy-duty wire then filled with dirt and rock. They use them in Afghanistan and Iraq at the U.S. posts.”
“Oh yeah, I remember seeing those. I get it; we’ll use the logs and put the dirt and rock in the middle. That’ll make those things stronger and almost bullet-proof.”
“We’ll countersink the logs, vertically, and place them in a wedge shape with a narrow firing port on the outside. That’ll give us a shooting lane nearly one-hundred eighty degrees in width. They, on the other hand, will only have a narrow slit to shoot at.”
“We’ll put in more punji stakes on the hill below the bastions. At least that’ll hinder someone approaching from the east.”
“We have a lot to discuss and think about tonight at the roundtable.”
Dinner was finished and the ladies had poured themselves some wine and the gentlemen were having a tumbler of scotch. Julia had provided everyone with pen or pencil and pads of paper. They started by discussing the spring planting and construction of the underground greenhouses. They wrote supply listings for both projects and where in Laramie the majority of the supplies were located. Mapping the route would save fuel.
We decided to make one more run to the National Guard base in Colorado, taking five vehicles with trailers and bringing back everything we could use. Three trailers would have fuel tanks and all the empty fuel cans we felt safe carrying. All would be full prior to returning to the valley. They would be heavy loads, but we needed the fuel.
Next, we discussed defensive areas that needed improvement. Chet and I told what we had already done and were planning to do with the punji stakes and bastions. We discussed the north and west sides of my property to see if anyone could come up with a viable plan to add to the defense of those areas. Nothing came to mind, just like Chet and me.
Dave and Julia’s place would be just as difficult. Their land’s best defense was the river behind it. To the front was a gentle slope to the west that rose several hundred yards and over a hundred feet in elevation. To the south were the ponds and to the north another large pond, actually a small lake. I had printed a copy of the satellite photo showing their place and we decided it could be surrounded quickly, so we would focus our efforts on the protective features of the home itself.
I looked at Dave and catching his eye, gave a quick flick of my eyes to Chet. Dave read the clandestine message and said, “Doug, can I speak to you for a minute in the front room?”
“Sure, brother, what’s up?” I answered, sliding my chair out.
We went into the front room and hoping we were out of earshot, discussed Chet. I told Dave, that Ruth and I both had misgivings about the young man, that we didn’t fully trust him yet. Since Doug had not shown nor mentioned his underground facility, Ruth, and I both felt it better to keep that quiet and I told Dave as much, saying it would be his and Julia’s decision to tell him about it.
Dave hung his head thinking. I knew he would be concerned if Ruth and I were. He asked if we had seen anything that would directly implicate Chet’s untrustworthiness. I told him no and said all we’d seen so far was just the opposite, it was just a feeling both of us had. I told him about Chet’s interest in everything. I told him the guy was a strategist and tactician and how I’d found that out. I told him how he’d looked over my property and given good, actually great ideas on defense, but that I felt if we put the things in, then he would know. I told him that all the numbers revolving around the guy just weren’t adding up, nothing concrete, just an uncomfortable feeling.
“We better get back in there,” Dave said. “You keep a careful eye on him.” I assured him I would while we went back to the kitchen.
The roundtable lasted until late in the evening. We said our goodbyes and left for home. It was an overcast night, with very few stars showing through the cloud cover. We just may be in for an early snow. At the house, I restarted the fire, primed the coffee pot, and went to bed. Chet had already gone up to the guest room and Ruth had gone up to bed.
When I crawled into bed, Ruth rolled over and almost whispering said, “You and Dave talk about Chet?”
Just as quietly, I answered, “Yes. Dave isn’t going to let on about their underground and I agree so keep it quiet.”
“Does Dave have the same feeling we do?” she asked.
“If he didn’t, he does now,” I said. “I think we need to use him as long as we can, especially to make that last run to Colorado. The fifth vehicle would be a welcomed addition to the convoy.”
“Okay. When do you think we should go?”
“I’m hoping it doesn’t snow. If it doesn’t, I think right away, before winter sets in. We could use the fuel and supplies so you and Julia need to get together and discuss what to get from a clothing, food, and seeds standpoint…you know that kind of stuff. Dave and I already have lists going for things we need to get.”
“What do you have on your list?”
“Ammo, grenades if there are anymore; we really need to find more fifty caliber ammunition. We need a few things for the farming. The underground greenhouse stuff we can get in Laramie after we plant next year. I think that is a good thing for us to do, build the greenhouses.” I was talking to myself as Ruth had fallen to sleep. I gave her a peck on the cheek, rolled over and turned out the light.
Chapter 5: Colorado Supply Run
The five trucks and trailers had just pulled off I-25, turning east to the Army National Guard (NG) base. We had kept in radio contact on the way down and had made it without incident. We were thankful for that. We had planne
d a four-day trip, similar to the one we’d done over a year ago. After the NG base, we would go into northern Fort Collins and hit the ranch and farm stores.
As usual, I had Sam with me in my truck and she was ever attentive, watching all the time, not once alerting on the way down. Dave had Boxer with him in his truck and I’m sure the dog was as charged as Sam was. Dave and Boxer had become inseparable like Sam and me. They went everywhere together forming an unbreakable bond like Sam and I had.
The main gate at the NG base was as we’d left it. Once inside, we drove directly to the bunkers and had just opened the first bunker when a cold drizzle began. This would make the day miserable. We had planned to stay the first night here and once the heavy mist began, Julia and Ruth set up our cooking and sleeping areas in the bunker. This time we would leave the trucks outside.
Chet had gone to the top of the bunkers to look around after putting on his rain gear. He’d taken my binoculars, climbed the embankment to the top of the first bunker and was scanning the area. Dave and I opened the other three bunkers and began looking through the materials, specifically looking for items we would need in a combat situation.
I stepped out to take a leak when I saw Chet come sliding down the embankment. The grass being wet was slippery, and he was on his backside and feet, sliding down the grass. Once at the bottom, he came running over and practically out of breath whispered, “Black hummers to the northwest; three of ‘em and it looks like they’re headed our way.”
“Dave!” I shouted. He came running out of the bunker, as did the girls. “Chet was on top and said three black hummers are heading this way. They’re to the northwest. Did you bring your fifty?”
His eyes brightened, and I knew what he was thinking, time to get even, “Yeah,” and without another word, he ran to his truck. I ran to mine and got my fifty out. Ruth, Julia and Chet collected their M4s, .308 rifles, Ruth with her AR-10 and seven magazines, and ammunition. We all met at my truck.
“Dave, you and Julia set up on the top of bunker four. Ruth and I will set up on the downward side to the north. Chet, get on top of bunker one and cover the road and the buildings to the west. If anyone shows himself, shoot first. Okay, people, clear on what you’re to do?”
I'm Tired of Zombies | Book 2 | Full Scale War Page 13