Her Name is Beth: Alone: Book 5

by Darrell Maloney

  She smiled, trying to put on a brave face. Even though he couldn’t see it, she knew he could hear the fear in her voice. So she tried to sound tough.

  “Nice to know. Thanks for the warning.”

  “Also, until you’re a trained shooter, if you see anything, call out immediately. We’ll change windows. I’ll take your window and see if I can see what you saw. Then I’ll make the decision whether to take a shot or to wait and see what happens.”

  “What do I do?”

  “You take my window, and sound the alarm.”

  “Alarm? How?”

  “That red button on the wall. We push it any time we identify a threat. Or even if we think there’s a threat. A horn will go off in the bunker loud enough to wake everybody up. Have you ever watched an old Navy war movie where they sound the alarm for ‘all hands on deck’?”

  “Sure.”

  “The red button does the same thing. It tells everybody we might be under attack. The shooters all scramble to come up here. Everybody else does what they can to assist us. Passes ammunition to us. Spots for us from the control center. Whatever they can do to help.”

  Chapter 22

  “Control center? What control center? I didn’t know you had one.”

  “It’s the closet next to the water pump room. We don’t use it much because until now we’ve never had enough people to man it. We were expecting to have a lot more people come down here with us, remember. So the original idea was we’d man the control center twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, just like we do the tower. We had to abandon that plan early on because we just didn’t have enough people to cover the shifts.

  “So we’ve used it during actual firefights only. Every time we sent out an alarm, all the brothers came running up here to find out what we were dealing with. I’d take one corner and Jonas would take the other. We’re the best shots, so it makes sense to put your best men in the game first.

  “Mason is the next best shot. He’d stay in the tower with us, just in case one of us took a hit. If one of us got shot, he’d step in to replace us.

  “Jacob would go to the control center, which is basically just a desk and a microphone beneath a bank of eight CCTV monitors. You see, we’ve got wireless cameras mounted in the trees outside that give us a wide variety of angles. And because they’re so high up, the bad guys never notice them. And they have a much better view of the area than we do so close to the ground.

  “From the control center, Jacob could give us a play by play and spot us. He could say, for example, that there’s a group of five men ten yards inside the tree line on our east side at about thirteen degrees. Even if we couldn’t see the men behind the bushes, we could just spray a few shots into that location. If we were lucky we’d hit some of them. If not, we might at least scare them off. If we missed them, but if Jacob could tell where our bullets hit, he could redirect us. He could say, “Aim about four feet to the right and a little lower.

  “It’s not unlike the way military spotters with binoculars watch where a shell lands and tells the crew to make corrections.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Yep. Like I said, the original plan was to use it all the time, instead of just during firefights. That way we could get some advance warning of where they were even before the shooting started. If we saw them while they were sneaking up on us, we could get the drop on them and open fire on them first. Instead of the other way around.

  “I was talking to the brothers last night and we think we might be able to man it now. With the kids who are old enough to accept the responsibility. Your Lindsey, for example. We wouldn’t want to put her up here where she might have to kill a man, or where she was being shot at. But we think she’s mature enough to man the security monitors on a regular basis. All she’d have to do is watch them for an eight hour shift every couple of days and raise the alarm if she sees anything suspicious.

  “Before we ask her we’ll need your permission, of course.”

  “Sure. She’s been saying she wished there was more she could do around here to help.”

  “Good. She’s the oldest of the four kids we wanted to assign to monitor duty. Do you think she’d mind supervising them?”

  “I’ll ask her. But I can’t imagine her not wanting to help.”

  “Good. It’s settled then.”

  “Anything else I need to know?”

  Mark thought for a moment, then blurted out, “Bees and skeeters.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Bees tend to fly through the gun ports a couple of times a week. We think they’re checking us out because it’s cool and dark in here and they’re looking for a place to build a hive. If you’re allergic to bees we’ll have to change some things up and put you somewhere else.”

  “No. I’ve been stung a couple of times. I don’t particularly like them. But I’m not allergic to them.”

  “Good. Now, the mosquitoes are pretty bad up here sometimes. Especially in late spring and early summer. We keep coils lit to repel them, but some of them don’t seem to mind the smell. When you pull guard duty at night wear dark clothing. Long sleeves if you can stand them in the heat. And use some liquid repellant on your face and hands.”

  Without taking her eyes off of the clearing on her side of the pill box, Sarah deftly changed the subject.

  “Mark, what are those little orange things out there in the grass? I didn’t see them before.”

  “Those are mine markers.”

  “You weren’t kidding? There really are mines out there? I thought you were joking.”

  “Hardly. One of the less scrupulous preppers in the area raided the National Guard Armory right after the blackout. Believe it or not, it was completely unattended. All the soldiers bugged out to be with their families, I guess.

  “Anyway, he was surprised to find a pallet of hand grenades and two pallets of land mines there. Normally the National Guard Armory wouldn’t have such things. But they were shipped into there by mistake. They were supposed to go to the Red River Arsenal for disposition. So the Armory was courtesy storing them until they could get new shipping paperwork in order. Apparently the blackout happened before the paperwork did.”

  “Okay. But what about the markers? I didn’t see them from the outside. But from this angle they stick out like sore thumbs.”

  “They’re designed that way. The markers are triangle shaped with a square end and a sloped body. The square end is what you’re looking at now. It’s painted fluorescent orange. The sloped end is painted a brownish green. Since it’s sloped instead of square, it’s harder to see from the forest. Also because of its color it blends in quite well with the grass any time of year. Even in the dead of winter when the grass is dead.

  “Of course, we know pretty much where they are by heart now. But we still have procedures we follow in the interest of safety. Any of our people who leave the clearing must be guided back through the mine field by one of our guys here in the tower. We’re in radio contact and tell them where to walk, when to change directions, etcetera.”

  “Have any bad guys ever been blown up by the mines?”

  “Yes. They’ve tried to sneak up on us a couple of times in the heavy rain, when our cameras and night vision goggles had a hard time picking them up.”

  “What happened?”

  “Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.”

  Chapter 23

  Hi, Honey.

  I found my journal in the back of the Explorer. I know I didn’t put it there, so I’m guessing you did. I can’t imagine why, unless you somehow knew it was therapeutic for me all those months we were apart. Somehow it made me feel closer to you when I could sit down occasionally and write to you.

  I suppose it helped relieve my stress too in a way, as though sharing my problems with you would make them easier to bear.

  And I guess the main reason I even started the journal still applies. In case I don’t make it back to you alive, and you somehow stumble across the journal in
the future, you’ll at least know what happened to me.

  I’m two weeks out now and thus far the trip has been uneventful.

  I’m still traveling at night, and in southern Oklahoma. It’s almost dusk. I’ll be setting out around ten p.m. and should be in Amarillo by morning.

  Hey, that’s a song, isn’t it? Amarillo by Morning. I can’t remember who sung it, but I remember I liked the song. I hope whoever sang it has survived. We need more music in the world and less misery.

  I’ve developed a routine, of sorts. I leave around ten p.m. each night and night-drive, dodging stalled vehicles in the roadway at about twenty miles an hour or so.

  I try not to stop unless my bladder’s getting ready to burst, and then I just step out of the running car and relieve myself on the highway so I don’t waste a lot of time. I eat and drink on the run, and don’t stop until about an hour and a half before sunrise.

  I sleep in the sleeper cabs of big rigs, but I don’t crash until mid-morning.

  When the sun comes up I typically walk at least a mile, maybe two. It’s partially to help me relax from driving and having to dodge all those shadows all night long (the abandoned vehicles).

  But it serves another purpose as well. It allows me to meet and talk to the highway nomads I come across. I ask each of them if they’ve seen a red pickup truck pulled by two horses.

  So far I’ve talked to at least fifty people and they’ve all pretty much given me the same answer: if they’d seen something like that they definitely would have remembered it. And they haven’t seen it.

  I’m not disheartened, though. They’ve got a six-month head start on me so it’s a bit much to expect these nomads are the same ones who were around six months ago.

  Once I get to Amarillo I’m turning west on Interstate 40. It’s the most direct route to Albuquerque without going through the Rocky Mountains, and I’m betting that’s the route they took.

  Please don’t lose hope, honey. I’m not. She’s alive. I just know it.

  I don’t know what dastardly things they’re doing to her, but we can undo the damage when we get her back with lots of love. I want to wrap my arms around her and never let her out of my sight again.

  Please continue to take good care of Lindsey. And tell her to take good care of you. We’ll be back someday, Beth and I. With God as my witness I promise you that.

  I love you so very much.

  -Dave-

  He read over his words and felt a bit foolish for signing his name to the bottom of the entry. He imagined Sarah laughing at his doing so.

  “Of course it’s Dave. Who else would be writing to me in Dave’s journal? Especially with such atrocious handwriting?”

  The thought made him smile as he put the journal aside. He had just enough time to build a small campfire and cook the rabbit he’d shot an hour before.

  He was a good sized one. He’d make a good meal that would last Dave through the night. If he had any leftovers he’d wrap them in aluminum foil and eat them for breakfast.

  By morning. In Amarillo.

  Chapter 24

  At just before ten p.m. Dave opened the door of a dark blue Kenworth and stepped to the ground. He looked around to make sure he was alone. The night vision goggles on his face picked up the shadows of trees and surrounding vehicles, but nothing which appeared to be human.

  He’d parked his Explorer fifty yards in front of the Kenworth on purpose. So he could keep an eye on it as the skies darkened for the night to see if anyone was around it. If someone had seen him park it, they may have hung around to ambush him when he came back for it, steal his keys and then his vehicle.

  Dave couldn’t afford to lose his vehicle. If he did, he’d have a hell of a time catching up to the animals who’d stolen his daughter.

  He reached inside the rig, pulled out his backpack, and placed it on his back. Then the AR-15. He stretched, checked the highway again, and made his way back to the shiny new Camaro a quarter mile up the highway.

  There he left the highway and disappeared into the heavy woods.

  Twenty minutes later he reemerged carrying his weapons bag. It was heavy, and he had to change hands occasionally.

  But then, it held a lot of stuff. His sniper rifle and fishing rod. His crossbow and extra bolts. Ammunition for all three of his guns and the bag of hand grenades he’d gotten from Mark.

  He would have preferred to leave it all in the Explorer during the days when he abandoned the vehicle, but he couldn’t trust someone not to break into it and rummage through it.

  In his mind that would be pointless. There were plenty of heavily laden big rigs scattered along the highway. Everybody knew that they were the go-to source for water and food and clothing. And a myriad of other things the nomads needed to survive.

  But still, he saw car after car after car along the same highways that had their windows smashed. Hatchbacks and doors left open. Infant car seats and all manner of other items tossed unceremoniously on the highway.

  Perhaps the looters were looking for something they couldn’t find on the trucks. Drugs, maybe. Or guns and ammunition.

  Dragging the heavy weapons back and forth was a pain in the ass. But it was necessary. He couldn’t afford to lose his weapons, for he expected to have to go to war once again to get Beth back. He needed the weapons to do so. The weapons were as important as his transportation in accomplishing his mission.

  No, if someone were to break into his Explorer while he slept, they’d find nothing of value. They might find it rather odd looking, what with the extra wiring all over the dashboard and the tractor ignition mounted on the dashboard itself. But even if they suspected it might be a working vehicle, they wouldn’t have been able to start it without the key.

  No. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t leave his weapons behind when he moved over to his big rig every day. It was just too risky.

  He walked the fifty yards down the highway to the Explorer and lifted the hatch. He put everything in it, then unzipped the weapons bag and pulled out his AR. It would ride in the front passenger seat with him.

  The new world was full of surprises.

  On his drive through central Texas, he’d come across a roadblock set up by the National Guard just south of Austin. Set up to limit travel along the interstate highways. Or maybe to keep angry Texans from going after the governor and lynching him. That particular roadblock had been lit up like a Christmas tree with portable halogen lights and torches and was visible from quite some distance. Dave was able to see it in time to avoid it, and simply took a detour and went around it.

  But even National Guard troops have brains, and probably use them occasionally.

  At some point since then, it might have occurred to them that if they killed their lights and blacked themselves out, they might be better able to catch those trying to sneak past them.

  The AR-15 on the seat beside him was an insurance policy. If the National Guard saw him driving down the darkened highway and boxed him in, he’d be able to scamper into the woods with at least one good weapon.

  He hoped it didn’t happen, and he’d be especially cautious. Especially when getting close to big cities, where the roadblocks were most likely to be set up.

  He was a Marine, and had the utmost respect for the military.

  He was a little pissed off that the Guard had foreseen the coming of the EMPs and had taken steps to protect some of their equipment. And that weren’t in the cities trying to help people instead of setting up senseless roadblocks.

  But he didn’t fault the men for that. That surely was a decision made a lot higher on their food chain.

  He didn’t want to go to war with the National Guard, and having to shoot soldiers who were merely doing their jobs and following orders.

  Of course, if they came close to ending his mission to rescue his daughter, he’d do what he had to do.

  Chapter 25

  Dave was making good progress. His fifteenth night of driving was nearing an end as he pas
sed a sign that said

  WELCOME TO NEW MEXICO

  Land of Enchantment

  He’d made it through Texas without being hindered by the National Guard or anybody else.

  It occurred to him that he’d been lucky thus far and hoped his luck held.

  Or then again, maybe it wasn’t luck at all. Maybe it was something else.

  He prayed out loud. Something he’d been doing quite frequently of late.

  “Thank you, God, for watching over me and keeping me safe on my journey. If it be your will, please continue to do so until I find my baby and bring her home safely.”

  He looked at his watch. Through the night vision goggles the black face was impossible to see. But the fluorescent paint on the watch’s tiny hands glowed like a beacon. So even though he couldn’t see the numbers in the background, he could easily tell the time by the position of the hands.

  Or not.

  “Uh oh.”

  The large hand was pointing at about thirty degrees. Five after the hour.

  The smaller hand was pointing at one hundred twenty degrees. Four o’clock.

  The problem was, the time hadn’t changed since the last time he’d bothered to check at least half an hour before.

  He’d forgotten to wind it.

  “Damn it!”

  He came to a dead stop on the highway, removed his goggles, and peered up at the sky.

  When he was in San Antonio in the weeks and months following the blackout, he had a habit of sleeping during the day and staying up at night. It was just safer that way, since most of the marauders and looters came out in the hours of darkness. Like the rats.

  He got pretty good at judging the time by looking at the stars and the tint of the sky.

  He judged it to be close to five o’clock.

  Which meant he needed to find a place to pull over soon.