Switched On: Book Six in The Borrowed World Series

by Franklin Horton

  “That gave me an idea. What I'd like to do is see if I can put that dam in place right now and flood the power plant. The Clinch is a big, fast-moving river in a narrow gorge. If I can block the gorge that water will shoot up overnight and they won't have a chance. We have to make sure they don't have any roads available to them for evacuating. We have to block those or take them out. We’ll also have to take out their choppers with sniper fire so the head guy, a man named Boss, can’t escape. He’s the head of the snake."

  "Building a dam is a big project," Weatherman said. "How do you possibly think you can complete that before they notice the water rising and just come shoot your ass off whatever piece of equipment you're operating?"

  Jim shook his head. “Not building it like that. My plan is to blast the gorge shut. If I can shoot off one big explosion in one of those narrow gorges, I think we can make a lake and drown an invading army."

  "What kind of explosives are we talking?" Hugh asked. “Blasting isn’t as easy as it looks in the movies.”

  "I was considering a truck bomb," Jim said. “We go back for another one or two of those freezer trucks that run on propane, then pack them with barrels of diesel and fertilizer. We've got both of those here in the valley. I could use the old diesel that has some water contamination. It should be fine for these purposes."

  Jim noticed Hugh shaking his head. He’d known Jim a long time and had no problem being blunt with him. Jim also understood that Hugh had a lot more experience with explosives than he did, even though he’d never admit where that experience came from.

  "Something wrong with that plan?" Jim asked.

  “Everything," Hugh said. "First off, there aren’t a lot of paved roads in that area. It’s mostly farm roads—two tracks of mud and cowshit. The volume of explosive material you’ll require will make that truck so heavy I don't think you’d be able to get it where you need it. I think you need a much better plan of how to direct your charge to put the debris where you want to put it. Think of the difference between putting a firecracker on an apple versus sticking a firecracker inside an apple. You just park a truck bomb at the base of a cliff and you might not accomplish anything but knocking over a few trees. You’re needing to move thousands of tons of rocks and dirt."

  "Sounds like you might have a little experience in that arena," Bird remarked.

  Hugh winked. "I can neither confirm nor deny."

  "I think your choice of explosive is fine,” Bird said. “I used to work in the mines and I saw a lot of blasting done with ANFO, which is the commercially-packaged version of a fertilizer bomb. But like Hugh said, it needs to be placed for effectiveness. You’ll also need a primer charge. Blasting caps alone aren’t usually enough for an ANFO mixture.”

  "Where would I find a primer charge?" Jim asked.

  "A mine," Byrd said. "Or a quarry. You’d need a little Tovex or pentolite."

  "There's a quarry down that way," Jim said. "It’s right by the road. They run gravel trucks out of there all day long."

  "They’d probably have everything you need if it hasn’t been looted already,” Hugh said. “Of course, you have to find the blasting shack and get inside it. That might take a cutting torch. You may even find some commercial ANFO in bags you can add to the mix.”

  “Excellent,” Jim said. “I’ll be heading out tomorrow morning to see if I can get those trucks running. We’ll get them back here and get them outfitted.”

  “I want in on that,” Kyle said. “I know what my buddy Orfield did to get them started. I might be able to help.”

  “You need to be taking it easy,” Jim said.

  “You need to kiss my ass,” Kyle replied.

  “If you’re strong enough to talk shit, then I guess you’re strong enough to help out,” Jim said. “I’d be glad to have you.”

  "There’s still more to this operation, Jim. You can't just lay explosives on the surface of the ground and cross your fingers. You only have one shot at this. You need to go about it a little more scientifically," Hugh said.

  "I don't have any way to drill for charges if that’s what you’re suggesting."

  "Then you need to take advantage of some natural passage or a cave."

  Jim paced the room, rubbing his chin and racking his brain. He’d used the map to locate the narrowest point along the river but that would not be the ideal spot if he couldn’t get his explosives there or if he couldn’t get them into a position where the blast would be most effective. He paused and smiled.

  “I took Pete on a canoeing and fishing trip down that way once. He was probably seven or eight years old. We took a bathroom break in that area. Pete pointed out this cave halfway up the cliff face on the opposite side of the river. It was a big round hole in the rock face, like an Anasazi cliff dwelling or something. There were some ledges beneath it and someone had made homemade ladders out of branches for getting up in the cave.”

  “Did you guys go in?” Gary asked.

  “No. We paddled across the river and looked at the ladders but they were rotted. They must have been forty years old. It looked cool. Pete was convinced there had to be treasure in it, or at least a skeleton.”

  “You can’t carry the volume of explosive you need up a ladder,” Hugh said. “I don’t think all of us in this room could even if we combined our efforts.”

  “We wouldn’t have to,” Jim said. “I ran into a rock climber once when I was hiking near there. I asked him if he’d ever seen the cave and he said it was a common rappelling site. He said there was a road near the top and people parked there, then rappelled off.”

  Hugh stood. “Let’s see it on the map.”

  It took them a few minutes to find the spot. Since Jim had only seen it from the river, there weren’t a lot of identifiable landmarks he could recall. They eventually narrowed it down to what he was certain must have been the spot.

  “The rock climber was right,” Hugh said. “There’s a road near the top.”

  Jim looked around the room. “Before we go any further, I need to find out who wants to be a part of this. If you don’t, this is your opportunity to leave with no hard feelings. If you stay, you’ll be given an assignment.”

  No one left.

  “Any concerns?”

  Gary raised his hand.

  “What?” Jim asked.

  “I agree with everything you’ve said but I don’t like the idea of drowning innocent people who are struggling to survive just like we are. I’d like to warn the people who are in the path of the flooding.”

  Jim considered this. “I don’t have a problem with that but we can’t do it too early or someone might take it upon themselves to warn the people at the plants.”

  “That’s true,” Gary agreed.

  “Pete, Charlie, and I could get a couple of those canned air horns and ride around spreading the word,” Randi suggested. “If we used the horns, people might come outside to us and we wouldn’t have to risk knocking on any doors.”

  “What would you tell them happened?” Bird asked.

  Jim shrugged. “A landslide. Act of God. Blocked part of the river and causing flooding.”

  “I’m good with that,” Gary said. “I’m in.”

  “Kyle?” Jim asked.

  Kyle nodded somberly. “After what I saw today? You better believe it.”

  “How about we get you home now?” Kyle shook his head. “There’s no point. My family knew I might have to spend the night on the jobsite. There’s no point going home this late at night and disturbing everyone.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Kyle nodded.

  “Scott, what about you?” said Jim. “You want to get out of here before we go into detail?”

  “If I was to call in, my people would tell us to stand down and get out of here. They may even give Boss a warning just to avoid this escalating. We’ll support you in any way we can but I think I’m going to have to sit this one out. If it helps, we can assist with security here in your community until you get b
ack.”

  “We’ll accept that offer,” Jim said. “Coordinate with Gary’s son-in-law, Will.”

  “Got it,” Scott said. He stood and gathered his gear. “I’ll see you guys when you get back. Good luck.”

  Ford, unusually quiet up to that point, spoke up. “Have you told the sheriff about your plan?”

  Jim shook his head. “I haven’t seen or talked to him in some time. I think he’s lost in his own head right now. He’s cracking up. So no, I haven’t told him.”

  Ford nodded. “Then I won’t either.”

  For the next two hours, the group hashed out the details of their plan. Assignments were laid out until everyone knew exactly what they needed to do and when it needed to be done. Work would start at first light and the operation would be launched the following day. No need to waste time.

  26

  At first light the next day, Jim and Kyle rode out of the valley for the frozen food distributorship. Doing exactly what Orfield had done days earlier, Kyle got both trucks running. In a move that had not occurred to Kyle and Orfield, Jim drove one of the trucks three miles to a local farm supply store and borrowed a cattle trailer, which he hooked to the hitch on the freezer truck. While he was at the farm store, Jim could not help but notice several pallets of fertilizer shrink-wrapped on pallets beneath an open shed. He would be returning for those.

  He drove back to the industrial park and they loaded their horses onto the trailer. Since the industrial park was home to several other businesses, the two men went to a gas pipeline company and a tool and die shop to look for cutting torches, gases, and rigging equipment. After using the bumper of one of the trucks to push open several garage doors, they came away with two sets of torches and hoses, two masks, two acetylene tanks, and three oxygen tanks.

  The tool and die shop had a small overhead crane system for lifting heavy items. They had several crates of gear for rigging items to be lifted. Jim and Kyle took it all, coming away with several slings made of yellow webbing, a bucket of hooks and shackles, and a few odd lengths of chain.

  When they left the industrial park, Kyle went home to spend some time with his family. He was going to explain to them that things at the substation had not gone as expected but he would not go into detail. He preferred not to worry his family. Once this was all over, they could sort it out. Over a jar of liquor, he would share the details he didn’t want to get into today. Once he’d had a nap and said his good-byes, Kyle was going to return to the valley so that his truck could be outfitted for the next day.

  Jim drove the freezer truck with the livestock trailer back to the farm supply store. He felt very exposed being in a vehicle. Once he parked, he did not set down his rifle even when loading fertilizer. He did not want to take any chances at this late stage in the game. The mission ahead was too important. If he ran into any trouble, his first response would be to shoot.

  In full gear, including body armor and carrying a rifle, Jim loaded two pallets of fertilizer. Most went in the forward compartment of the livestock trailer, which was the lowest and therefore easiest place to put it. Some went into the freezer compartments of the truck, which were high and strained his muscles after thirty or so bags. He knew he’d be sore tomorrow. He only hoped he was so busy he didn’t have much time to think about it.

  WHEN HE MADE it back to the valley, Jim was tired, sore, and sweating through his clothes. He drove the freezer truck to Mack Bird’s house, which was not as easy as it sounded. With all of the bridges into the valley destroyed as a safety precaution, they had to take the trucks overland on a slippery farm road. It required putting the tire chains on and took a lot longer than driving through the river near the superstore.

  Mack had a shop behind his house and was responsible for the next stage of readying the truck. Jim unloaded the horses and headed back to his house while Bird and Weatherman worked together on the truck.

  Using the cutting torches, they modified the bumper to accept a heavy-duty winch that Bird pulled from a rock crawler he’d built several years ago. Extensive redneck engineering went into making sure the winch was tied into the frame sufficiently that it could lower heavy loads without breaking loose.

  When that task was completed and tested, Bird set about using old pipe and round tubing from his scrap pile to build a protective bumper for the front of the truck. He would have liked to build armor for the truck too, but knew from his own shooting experience that bullets would penetrate any of the plate steel he had laying around his shop.

  While Bird was welding like a fiend, Weatherman was dealing with the freezer compartments. The truck bed wasn’t a single box but chopped up into over a dozen smaller compartments that made it easier to organize the contents, though all those compartments made the truck less efficient for nearly everything else. A reciprocating saw with a long blade would have been the ideal tool for dealing with the sheet aluminum and foam insulation but there was no power to run one and every generator in the valley was empty.

  Weatherman climbed onto the top of the freezer box and attacked it with an ax. The sandwich of aluminum and foam was around five inches thick but yielded easily to a powerful chop.

  “Don’t hack your fucking foot off,” Bird warned.

  Weatherman wiped the sweat from his face with the back of a sleeve and gave Bird the finger. He was breathing too hard from playing Viking to verbalize a response. When he had a line hacked around the entire roof, he waved the ax over his head and roared in victory.

  Bird turned off his torch and helped him pry the top off. It took Weatherman another two hours to hack out the interior dividers and to hammer over the edges. They were so sharp that just leaning over one had the potential to open a catastrophic gaping wound. With that done, he stretched a blue plastic tarp over the roof and stretched it tight with bungee cords. The plan was that folks would be riding in the back of this vehicle and that top would give them a little protection from the wind and any precipitation.

  Bird and Weatherman were worn out when they were done. Bird’s face was smudged from cutting with the torch and doing his best to gas weld, something he’d never been good at. Weatherman was soaked in sweat and covered in dozens of cuts and scratches from the sheet metal. They were relaxing and drinking cups of water in an old van seat that served as a couch when they heard the rumble of an approaching engine. Moving to the garage door, they saw an identical truck come to a stop behind the first.

  Kyle eased stiffly out the door and smiled, looking over the truck they’d just completed. “You guys ready to do mine?”

  Weatherman and Bird looked at each and sighed.

  GARY WAS PACKING GEAR. He carried gear around the valley every day, both as he moved around and as he performed sentry duty, but this was different. He was actually going on an operation tomorrow and he was a little antsy over it. He packed a larger Go Bag, one that would sustain him for a few days if he got separated from the group and had to walk back to the valley.

  He cleaned his pistol and, with Will’s help, loaded every magazine he had. He had to take the heavy .338 Lapua because Jim was counting on him to use it to disable the chopper. There was only a single Blackhawk according to Jim and Hugh. Hugh had already coached Gary on the specific location he should place rounds to disable the chopper. The plan was that he would not fire unless they tried to use the chopper. Otherwise, he would just maintain surveillance on it.

  Not wanting to be limited to the .338 bolt-action and a handgun, Gary had an AR pistol he’d built himself. As part of preparing his gear, he switched the pistol brace over for an actual stock and converted the rifle to what was legally considered a Short Barreled Rifle. It was a minor change that carried serious legal implication in normal times since an SBR required extensive paperwork and approval. What it meant for Gary was that he now had an AR with a 10.5 inch barrel that would be a little easier to carry but effective to shoulder and shoot.

  “I want to go with you,” Will said.

  Gary shook his head.

/>   “Why not?”

  Gary waited a long time before answering. He popped a takedown pin on his rifle and examined the mechanism, closed it back up, and slid the pin back in place. He confirmed the optic was functional then laid the weapon back on the table and began pushing rounds into a magazine.

  “I’ve come too far with these folks to not participate,” Gary said. “I could never look Jim in the eye again if I didn’t go with him. Even if I didn’t believe in the mission, I’d go because he’d do that for me. But the only way I can go away and do that is if I’m comfortable that my family is in good hands. I need to know there’s someone here who can protect them and hold them together if I don’t come back.”

  Will nodded. “I understand that, but I’d like to be a part of this.”

  “Not happening. We need you on sentry watching the valley tonight with the Wimmers and Lloyd. End of discussion.”

  Gary was never that firm. He was an easygoing guy and never shut down conversations like that. That he did was an indication of just how concerned he was about this operation.

  “I need to check the .338,” Gary said.

  He picked up a walkie-talkie from the table and keyed the mic. “This is Gary. I’m going to check zero on my .338. I may have to fire a couple of shots if I need to adjust the scope. Just wanted to warn everyone not to be concerned by the shooting.”

  There was a chorus of acknowledgements. Satisfied, Gary picked up the rifle and went outside. A distance from the house, the valley road crossed over a bridge. A sign there read Narrow Bridge. Gary’s rangefinder gave him a distance of 653 yards from the back porch of the house.

  He laid prone on the carport, dropped the Atlas bipod, and flipped up his lens caps. He adjusted the turrets for the distance and returned to the scope. He placed the crosshairs on the letter “O” in the word “Narrow.” He chambered a round, flipped off the safety, and returned to position. He exhaled, and between breaths he squeezed the trigger.