Chapter 12
Sarah looked as though the air had gone from her sails. The elation she’d felt when her husband rescued her from Swain’s grasp was gone. She’d waited a year to reunite with Dave, and now he’d be gone again within hours.
But she understood completely. Little Beth needed him more than she did. She survived without him for a year. She’d survive for a few more months.
Mark asked him, “What can we do to help you? Do you have enough ammunition?”
“Yes. I think so. I could use some spare batteries for my night vision goggles if you have some.”
“Sure. No problem. When do you need to set out for the farm?”
Dave looked at a clock on the wall.
“In about an hour. Two at the most.”
Mark looked at Jacob, who looked at Kara. Without a word they stood to leave. It was as though they’d read his thoughts.
“We’re going to leave you alone with your family,” Mark said. “Since time is so precious, you need to spend it with them. Not us.”
Dave sat in the middle of an overstuffed couch, his arms wrapped around his wife and daughter. They made small talk. Nonsensical talk. Talk about things that didn’t matter a diddly damn in the grand scheme of things. But it didn’t matter. After a year apart, they merely wanted to enjoy each other’s company.
Dave said to Lindsey, “I had the most bizarre dream about you. Several times. Over and over again.”
“Seriously, Dad? What kind of dream?”
“I dreamed you came to me in a flowing white gown. Barefoot. With a brilliant white glow behind you. Almost like you were visiting me from heaven. And it terrified me, because I thought you might not have made it. I said, ‘Lindsey, where are you?’ but you never answered me. All you would say was to take care of the rabbits. That it was critically important that I take care of the rabbits.
“And then it got even more weird. There were two bunnies in particular who seemed to take a special interest in me. They came to me when none of the others would. They looked me directly in the eyes when I talked to them. They cocked their heads to one side and seemed to hang on every word I said. For some reason I thought they possessed the souls of you and your sister. That the two of you were sent to help me survive. How bizarre is that?”
Lindsey half-smiled.
“What?”
“I had my own dream, Dad. And it was equally troubling. You had your head in your hands and you were thinking about giving up, of taking your own life. I got down on my knees and prayed to God that you wouldn’t end it all. We needed you so much. The only thing that kept me going, and I know I speak for Mom and Beth too, was knowing you’d find a way to get to us.
“I asked God in my prayers to keep you going. I somehow knew you were helping others. You’re too good a person not to. I also knew that the rabbits were multiplying so fast that you couldn’t eat all the meat they produced. I asked God to somehow get word to you to take care of those rabbits. That the meat you were giving to others was saving lives. And it was restoring hope.
“I knew that even after you’d stopped caring about your own life you’d care about the others you were saving. If you had killed yourself, the rabbits would have died. And people would have died as well. And many others would have lost hope and given up. They’d figure that if someone as strong and kind as you were to give up and end it all, then what right did they have to go on living?
“That’s why I asked God to get word to you to take care of those rabbits. I knew it would give you a mission, something to go on for, even if you’d lost the will to live yourself. And I knew that as long as you kept on living, you’d someday find the strength and desire to go on. And that you’d come for us.
“As for what the two little rabbits had to do with it, I don’t have a clue. It’s possible that you were outsmarted by two little bunnies. Maybe they just wanted special attention that you weren’t giving the others.”
Dave flushed red, then laughed. “Well I’ll be darned. I’ve been played. By a couple of fur balls. How embarrassing is that? I’ll have to turn them both into rabbit stew when I get back.”
“You better not, Dad. Let them live, they deserve it. After all, they gave you a mission and helped keep you from giving up.”
He held his daughter close and winked at Sarah over Lindsey’s shoulder.
“Okay. I’ll give them a stay of execution. As long as they don’t tell anybody they played me.”
“Dad, played is so 1990s. The word you want is punked.”
Sarah wanted a few minutes alone with the husband she hadn’t seen in a year.
“Lindsey honey, would you do me a favor? Would you give us a few minutes of privacy so I can say goodbye to your father?”
Lindsey stood and started to walk away. Then she has second thoughts. She turned and fairly ran back to him, hugging him around the neck and squeezing him hard.
“I’m not gonna say goodbye, Dad. Goodbye sounds so final. Be careful. The only thing that could possibly be worse than losing Beth would be losing you too.”
“I’ll be careful, sweetie. I promise. Now that I’ve found you guys again I’ve got too much to live for not to be. I love you.”
Lindsey choked back a tear as she responded.
“I love you too, Daddy.”
Then she wheeled around and rushed out of the room.
Sarah took Dave’s hands in hers and looked into his eyes.
“You know I’m not much for long goodbyes,” she said.
“I know. So let’s learn from our daughter. Let’s just not.”
“You don’t know how long you’ll be, do you?”
“Not a clue.”
She pulled a small piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him.
“Kara gave me this while you were unloading the Explorer. It’s their ham radio frequency. Please, if you come across anyone else with a working radio, call me. Tell me where you are. Tell me how you’re doing. Tell me you love me. But…”
She looked down at her hands. He lifted her chin and looked at her.
“But what?”
“If you find out that Beth didn’t make it, don’t you dare tell me over the radio. That’s not the proper way for a mother to find out she’s lost her baby. If you find out she’s gone, you come back here and tell me in person, you hear me?”
Dave started to tell her not to worry. That Beth would outlive both of them.
He started to tell her that he’d find her alive and well and anxious to come home again.
But one thing Dave had learned since the world went cold was that nothing was guaranteed. Not anymore.
The truth was, Beth might already be dead. The truth was, even if she was alive, the odds against him finding her were steep.
The truth was he would more than likely return empty handed.
But he couldn’t bring himself to say any of that.
Instead he merely said, “Honey, I’ll do my very best.”
“I know that, honey. I know you will. God be with you.”
She released his hands. There was nothing left to be said.
It was time to go.
Chapter 13
Dave made his way through the mine field by following the footprints he and Mark had made while unloading provisions. In his left hand he carried a bag of hand grenades Mark had given him. In his right he carried a portable battery jumper.
Dave had asked, incredulously, “Where in hell did you get hand grenades?”
Mark answered in a conspiratorial tone, “Same place we got the land mines. Don’t ask.”
He went on, “The jump starter is just in case your battery goes dead, since you can’t exactly call Triple A for roadside service any more. Take good care of it. We want it back when you’re done.”
“I will, I promise. And thank you.”
He was back at Karen’s farm house right on schedule, an hour before dark.
The first thing he did was start the generator. He had enough dayli
ght left to finish the project on the house side. But he also had to do some work from inside the basement, then make his way through the secret tunnel to the woods. And he’d need the light only the generator could provide.
He looked around the den and found what he thought was perfect for his project: a heavy oak bookcase with a hardwood backing.
Only trouble was, it was too damn heavy for him to move because it was full of books.
But that was actually a good thing. Because if he couldn’t move it, chances were a curious nomad wouldn’t be able to either.
Dave knew Tommy stocked a pretty decent workshop in his basement before the blackout. Down the stairs he went, to survey Tommy’s hardware and tools, to make sure he had everything he needed.
He returned to the den a few minutes later with a handful of tools and a pocket full of lag screws.
The first step was to measure the bookcase. It was exactly forty two inches wide. The door to the basement was thirty inches, the frame another three inches on each side. It would be perfect.
Dave went to his knees and marked a line on the baseboard three inches from the door frame. Then he took a wood chisel and hammer and used the chisel to make a cut on the soft wood of the baseboard. It wasn’t a perfectly straight line. But it was good enough.
He went to the other side of the basement door and did an identical cut, also three inches from the door frame.
Then he used the same hammer and chisel to remove the two small pieces of baseboard he’d cut free. He tossed them nonchalantly into the dark basement.
Next came the doorframe itself. He removed the two side pieces and the piece across the top, and tossed them unceremoniously into the basement as well.
He used a small Phillips screwdriver to tap out the door hinges and removed the door, deciding not to toss it down the stair as he’d done the frame pieces. He carried the door down and propped it against a basement wall, then climbed the steps to admire his handiwork.
The bookcase would now rest perfectly flat against the wall where the basement door once stood. From inside the den, it would appear to be permanently mounted to the wall.
At least he hoped it would.
For it was his intent was to hide the doorway. And hopefully it would never occur to any intruders that the house even had a basement.
The next part was a little tougher, for it involved the three hundred pounds of books that occupied space on the piece’s shelves.
There was no good way to do it.
But at least he was organized about it. He took the books off a few at a time and piled them in stacks on the floor. Then he manhandled the shelf fifteen feet across the room, trying his best not to leave any scratches on the hardwood floor.
He was amazed at how heavy the unit was even without the books. But that was okay. The heavier it was, the less chance someone would try to move it.
It took five minutes to move the thing and to put it into place and another five minutes to catch his breath. But it took a full twenty minutes to carry all the books across the room and put them back on the shelves.
Lastly, he took his tape measure and measured the distance from the floor to the center of the third and fourth rows of books. Then committed the measurements to his memory.
He stood back and admired his handiwork.
It did indeed look as though the unit, which was flush against the wall now, was built into the room.
But Dave was once a United States Marine. The Corps instilled a lot of good habits in him. And it taught him a lot of things.
One of the things it taught him, and one of his credos, was “good enough is never good enough.”
He was only half finished.
Chapter 14
The forest was starting to darken when Dave made his way to the box. But he’d have been able to find it even in the dark. It was his base of operations during his assault on the farm. His shelter from the rain. His temporary home for the previous week.
The box stood a lonely sentry in the dense woods surrounding the farm. Made of fiberglass and painted olive drab green, it was decorated with a series of lightning bolts and high voltage warning signs.
To the hunters and fishermen traversing the forest it was nothing more than a utility box, placed there to service buried power lines in the area.
But Dave knew otherwise. Dave had discovered his brother in law Tommy’s secret tunnel entrance. For although it looked like other electrical service boxes scattered throughout the area, it was anything but.
It was Dave’s access to the tunnel which ran from the woods to Tommy’s basement.
He made sure there was no one around, then turned the thumbscrews which held the access panel into place. He climbed inside, securing the panel and locking it from the inside with two slide bolts.
There was a standard light switch on the wall at the bottom of a set of wooden steps. He would have had to search for it in the dark, except he knew exactly where it was. He flipped it up, and the tunnel was bathed in a soft white glow.
Less than two minutes later, Dave emerged from the tunnel and into the same basement he’d thrown pieces of door trim minutes before.
So far so good.
He looked around Tommy’s workbench and found two pieces of heavy slotted angle iron that would be perfect for the next phase of his project. It would withstand the full weight of two grown men tugging on it without bending, and was bored with angled holes from one end to the other.
He found an electric drill and plugged it into Tommy’s workbench, then carried it and the angle iron to the door at the top of the stairs. From this vantage point, he could see the now-doorless doorway and the back of the oak bookshelf which rested just on the other side.
He laid the first piece of iron across the doorway, centered on the books on the other side of the bookcase. Then he took a six inch lag screw from his pocket, inserted it into one of the slotted holes, and screwed it into the bookcase.
He knew it would protrude through the other side. But it would be hidden behind the books and couldn’t be seen unless the books were removed from the shelf.
And even if it was found, it couldn’t be unscrewed from the den side.
Even if they discovered his ruse, the bookcase could only be moved with a wrecking crew. He doubted that any nomad would be curious enough to find out what was behind the piece to go through such effort.
And if they were, they’d damn sure have to work to find out.
Dave finished up and turned to walk back down the steps into the basement. Everything had gone swimmingly until that point. He was satisfied with the way the project had come out and he’d made good time. But then the most curious thing happened.
The lights suddenly went out.
“Shit.”
It was a word he almost never used until he’d found himself alone after the blackout. Now he used it far too often, and several other words to boot. He made a mental note to clean up his language before he found Beth. To go back to being the clean cut father she remembered.
For now though, it seemed the only word that was appropriate.
He paused for a minute at the top of the steps, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark.
Then he realized his folly. His pupils would only adjust to the darker room if there was some sort of light source to adjust to. He was in a room where there was no light at all. It was pitch black. The type of darkness where a man couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, even with his pupils completely dilated.
Dave was not one to panic. He’d have to find out why the lights went out. And hope it wasn’t because the farm house had been invaded.
But he’d do it carefully and methodically. Time was a friend who was always ready to help. If he used it properly.
Luckily he was finished with his task. He wouldn’t have to finish up in the dark.
And there was no real need to clean up after himself, to clean up and reorganize the basement now that his work was done.
He ce
rtainly would have, if the lights hadn’t failed. It was just his way. But under the circumstances, it wouldn’t really matter much if the basement was in disarray. No one would be using it for the foreseeable future anyway.
So no, he’d waste no time trying to return things to their rightful places. Instead, he bent down and lay the drill at his feet. He took the leftover lag screws from his pocket and laid them beside the drill. Then he very carefully walked down the steps and moved across the darkened basement, toward the wall where he remembered the phony circuit panel was mounted.
On the west wall of the basement was a huge electrical panel box with over two hundred breaker switches. Each breaker was marked with a label which indicated which part of the large farm’s operation that particular switch powered, such as:
Primary: Barn Lights, West Bank
All the equipment and outbuildings in the compound were wired through this box and every switch was real.
What wasn’t real was an exact replica of the box mounted on the same wall, immediately adjacent to the first one. The switches on the phony box were labeled identically except for one word: the word “primary” was replaced with the word “backup.”
Above the first panel were the words: CO-OP POWER.
Above the second panel were the words: GENERATOR POWER.
To anyone who wasn’t an experienced electrician, the setup would seem plausible. A primary power source and a backup. An electrician would immediately know that two sets of switches were overkill for two power sources using the same lines. But a layman would never make the connection.
Her Name is Beth: Alone: Book 5 Page 5