“So, anyway, I bought two dry batteries and some acid to put in them when the time comes. I also got a replacement starter and solenoid for each of my vehicles, two tractor ignition switches that I could mount on the dashboard, a couple of relays and some wire with in-line fuses.
“Theoretically, I can replace the starter and solenoid, mount a second ignition and run it through the relay and battery and to the solenoid directly, install a new electronic fuel injection package, and bypass all the other electronic mumbo jumbo
“I figure if you can start a tractor that way, you should be able to do the same with a car. They both operate in the same basic way, once you get all the electronic crap out of the way.”
Frank smiled and rubbed his chin.
“That does sound like it might work. You said, ‘in theory.’ Does that mean you haven’t actually tried it yet?”
“No. I’ll wait until it gets closer to spring. I don’t want to add acid and water to the battery until the last minute, because it’s only supposed to have a five year lifespan and I want to stretch that as long as possible. But I fancy myself a fairly decent backyard mechanic. So unless I’m totally missing something, I think I can get it going.”
Dave looked at his wind up watch. It said 3:05.
“Oh, heck, Frank. I’m sorry. I’m keeping you up all night. I’m up every night so I can sleep in the daytime. But this is your sleep time and I’m keeping you from it. I’ll head out so you can get some rest.”
“Oh, nonsense. I can take a nap any time I want tomorrow. There’s really not a lot to do around here. Especially when it’s too cold to go outside. And I’m enjoying our conversation. Have another cup of coffee and stay all night long if you want.”
-33-
And Dave did just that. The conversation went on, and with each passing minute the two became better friends. Dave was starved for interaction with a human that could actually answer him back. At one point he almost told Frank about Mikey, sitting like a popsicle in his kitchen two blocks away.
But he thought better of it, and kept the information to himself. He was still ashamed that he’d killed an unarmed man, and didn’t want Frank to judge him harshly because of it.
So instead, he asked Frank something else he was curious about.
“Frank, a little while ago, when Mark mentioned an old deuce and a half he was restoring, you smiled. But you didn’t say anything. I was just wondering what that was all about.”
“Oh, nothing. I was just reliving a pleasant memory from my own past.”
“I’d love to hear it, if you’d like to share. I’ve been dominating the conversation for too long, and my voice needs a break anyway.”
Frank smiled.
“There’s not much to tell, actually. In 1990, when Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait, he kicked off the Persian Gulf War. I was in the Army Reserve at the time, and took a few months off from the Sheriff’s Department to go do my duty the following summer.
“Toward the end of 1991, probably late October or so, the fighting was long over. We were drawing down our forces, and closing down one camp at a time.
“As part of the drawdown, my unit was given a square mile of sand and told to clean it up. We were told to ship what we could back to the states, burn what we could, or demilitarize it and give it to the locals. They said they didn’t want anything in that square mile that even hinted the U.S. military was ever there.
“So we set about the task, and one of the things we came across was an old deuce and a half truck that had belonged to the Air Force. They’d bugged out a few weeks before and the bastards left it behind for us to use.
“And even though it still ran great, there just wasn’t enough space on the outgoing ships for our own vehicles, much less the Air Force’s.
“So we were at a loss on what to do with it. I can still picture it in my mind like it was yesterday. I even remember the registration number that was painted on each of the doors: 75B6969. I always chuckled every time I saw that number. Maybe that’s why I still remember it.
“Anyway, we couldn’t demil it and give it to the locals because of its very nature. Demilitarizing something means you break it or modify it so that it can never be used for a military purpose again. Obviously, a deuce and a half was a vehicle specifically designed for military use, so no matter what we did to it, it would still be a military vehicle.
“So we couldn’t demil it and give it to the locals. None of the transportation convoys heading for the port would take it because they were already loaded down and the ships were running out of space. So we were at a loss on what to do with the damn thing.”
“I assume you figured it out, though. What exactly did you do with it?”
“Those things were specially made to run on damn near any kind of fuel. Gasoline, diesel, kerosene, even JP-4 jet fuel. And it just so happened the Air Force left six drums of jet fuel behind that we had to get rid of also.”
“Okay. So…”
Dave was a lot less patient when listening to stories than he was when telling them.
“So, we used one of the drums to fill up the primary and auxiliary fuel tanks. Then we put the rest of the fuel on the back of the truck, laying down, so that the bung holes were on the bottom of each drum. We hammered two by fours onto the truck bed to act as blocking to keep the drums from changing position. Then one of our engineers rigged up a hose assembly. He fed a line coming from each drum into the assembly, which then emptied into the driver’s side fuel tank. He vented the tank, and we essentially had created a vehicle with a three hundred and thirty gallon fuel tank.”
Dave smiled. He knew where the story was heading.
Frank went on.
“I don’t know if you’ve ever been off-road in a deuce and a half, but those suckers will go anywhere. We once chained two of them to a stuck Abrams tank and pulled it out of the sand. A frickin’ tank!
“Anyway, we wanted to get rid of this damn truck once and for all. So we tied the steering wheel into place so it would travel in a straight line. Then we cranked her up, shoved her into second gear, and jumped out of the cab.
“Last we saw that thing, it was headed across the desert in the general direction of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. That was several hundred miles away. I doubt if it made it, but it could have. One thing I’m sure of, it didn’t get stuck along the way.
“For a long time we joked about two Bedouin brothers, named Achmed and Zayed, on their camels in the middle of the desert, watching this unmanned American truck drive by. We figured they’d think it was haunted, and would immediately pray to Allah to forgive them for whatever they did to bring Satan into their neighborhood. Even now, more than twenty years later, I still remember laughing so hard it hurt.”
“Are you telling that truck story again?”
The men turned to see Eva walking into the room.
“Hello, Dave. It’s good to see you again.”
“Hi, Eva. And you as well. Have you heard Frank’s story about the truck before?”
“Only about ten thousand times. He laughs so hard every time he tells it he gets tears in his eyes. I think it’s a great story, but not great enough to cry over. I supposed if I was there I might feel differently about it.”
“I hope we didn’t wake you.”
“Oh, no. I always get up this time of day. I just love to see the sun come up. Even in a cold and miserable world, it’s still a bright spot of my day.”
Dave, in a mild panic, looked at his watch. He’d lost track of time, and didn’t realized that he and Frank had talked the night away. He only had half an hour, tops, to make it home before the sun broke over the horizon.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality. But I have to go. My darkness is about gone.”
Frank apologized.
“I lost track too. I should have been paying attention. You can stay the day if you want, and go back tonight.”
“Thanks, but I’d better not. I’d like to come back again sometime, though, a
nd talk some more.”
“You, my friend, are welcome to come and visit anytime.”
-34-
Hi, honey.
I just got home from Frank and Eva’s house. I spent all night over there talking and learning things.
They’re really good people. I want to take you there to meet them after I get you back here. We’ll have to go at night. I doubt the world will have tamed much by then. But it’ll be worth the hassle, I promise you that.
I also found out a couple of things that concern me. I used Frank’s ham radio and talked to a man familiar with Kansas City. He told me you’re buried under several feet of snow. I’m sure that’s a major pain in the butt for you.
But I think it’s also a good thing. As long as that much snow is on the ground, you won’t have looters coming around.
I know, I can see you rolling your eyes and hear you say, “That’s easy for you to say, Bucko. You’re not here to deal with it.”
Did I guess right? That’s exactly what you did, didn’t you? I guess I know you pretty well, huh?
I also found out about the prison break not far from you. I don’t know if you guys have any way of knowing about it. One thing we never discussed was whether or not Tommy and Susan had any means of communicating with outsiders, or of getting news from the outside.
I do remember they had several weapons, and Tommy was training Susan and the kids on how to use them. I hope they have enough weapons to arm you and the girls too. Or at least Lindsey. Maybe he can continue to work with Beth until she’s not so afraid of the weapon.
In any event, be careful. I hope you have sentries posted to watch out for marauders. I’ve been trying to rack my brain, trying to remember if Tommy and Susan put security cameras and monitors in their Faraday room. That would help greatly. But I guess at this point it’s too late to go back and make plans. If you have a surveillance system, that’s great. If not, I’m sure you’re doing the best you can without one.
I miss you so much, sweetheart. I never knew it was possible to actually hurt from missing someone. But my heart aches… literally. I feel a tightness in my chest whenever I see your face.
Oh, that reminds me. I forgot to tell you I gathered up every photo in the house of you and the girls. I took them all out of the frames and tacked them up on the walls in the safe room. There are eighteen of them in all.
I know, if you were here you’d yell at me. You’d say it’s uncivilized to hang portraits on the wall without frames. And then you’d yell at me a second time for putting little holes in them.
Well, okay, maybe you wouldn’t yell at me… but you’d give me that look to show you weren’t happy. And you know what look I’m talking about.
Don’t worry, I saved the frames. When you get back I’ll put them back in the frames and rehang them where I found them.
And when I tacked them up, I was careful to put the tacks on the very outer edges, so the frames will hide the little holes.
I actually had to hammer the tacks into place. I didn’t realize how hard it is to push a tack into plywood. No wonder it stops bullets so well.
Anyway, I’m rambling again. Sorry. I even put a couple of the pictures on the wall with the fireplace. I had to tape them to the brick. But I’m satisfied with the result. There are pics on all four walls in the safe room, so I see you guys no matter where I’m at or where I’m looking.
This may sound weird but I’m going to say it anyway. The pictures make me feel that you’re almost here with me. Like a big group hug.
Remember when you went to Glamour Shots and got those professional portraits made? Remember the one where you put on a black leather jacket and they took your photo sitting on a Harley? I told you it was somehow the sexiest one of the bunch, and it’s always been my favorite. I have it hanging at the head of the bed, on the side wall. The nice thing about sleeping in the daytime, is there’s just enough daylight coming into the safe room to see that photo. I look at you and think about the way things used to be until my eyes get heavy.
Then I dream about you in my sleep.
It started snowing right after I got back from Frank and Eva’s house this morning. It kind of put a damper on my plans for the next few days. I had planned to try to get the Explorer from up the street and into the garage so I could start working on it.
But now with snow on the ground I won’t be able to do it. I know that when it magically disappears from the middle of the street, some of the residents who were used to seeing it will wonder where it went. In fact, it’ll probably drive them crazy, wondering if somebody got it to run and drove away in it.
We didn’t know any of the people who live around it (it’s a couple of blocks away), so I don’t think they’ll know where to go looking for it. But if I try to move it while there’s snow on the ground, they’ll be able to easily follow the tracks. So that project is on hold until the temperatures warm up enough to melt all the snow.
I’ll have to work my other project to help kill time… organizing all the Armageddon stuff you printed out. I still haven’t been able to find out whether rabbits hibernate.
I love you honey. Stay safe. And please don’t forget me.
-35-
Dave awoke in the late afternoon, with little more than an hour of daylight left. But it was enough to do a few things around the house. Like sweep the kitchen floor that he’d been dragging dirt and mud across for several weeks.
“Hello, Mikey. Sorry I couldn’t take you along with me yesterday. To be honest, you’ve been rather cold and aloof lately. I didn’t want you to put a damper on the party. Maybe I’ll let you go along next time, but first you have to lighten up a little bit. Learn to relax. Tell some jokes. Compliment the ladies. Learn to put yourself out there and take risks. You’ll never get a girlfriend if you don’t learn to party a little.”
He swept around the dead man, wondering how long it would take him to thaw, and how hard it would be to lay Mikey out flat enough to bury him.
“I hope you’re not stuck in that position forever, my friend. It would make burying you a lot harder.”
Burying Mikey was obviously something he’d have to take care of before he set out on his journey to find his family. But he also knew it would delay him. He’d either have to wait until the ground thawed enough to dig a grave before he left, or find another means of disposing of the body.
For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, he just couldn’t drag the body to the street or to another house to rot when warm weather returned. He didn’t know if his refusal was because of the good Christian values instilled in him as a boy. Or more probably the guilt he still felt for shooting the young man. Perhaps it was because he himself wouldn’t have wanted to be abandoned if the situation was reversed.
“Of course,” he scolded Mikey as he finished his sweeping, “I wouldn’t have been shot while breaking into somebody else’s house.”
Then he thought about his words and saw the folly in them. The truth was, if he and Sarah had been like most of the rest of the world and not prepared for a disaster, they’d have been in the same desperate situation all the others shared. And under those circumstances, he damn sure would be out there foraging for food and water to provide for his family.
What puzzled Dave was that Mikey wasn’t stealing food. He was stealing valuables. Dave couldn’t understand why, in such a desperate world, anyone would place more value on gold and silver than on life-sustaining food.
The only reason he could imagine was plausible, but way off the mark. Dave decided that he was bartering the gold and silver for food for himself and his family. Perhaps with a gang of thugs who had taken over a Sam’s Club or a Walmart.
In the end, Dave decided, he didn’t blame Mikey for breaking in and stealing their things. Under different circumstances, he might well have resorted to the same desperate measures.
No, the only thing he blamed Mikey for was his carelessness.
“You should have made sure the house was empty before yo
u started rifling through it, Mikey. There are probably thousands of houses out there with dead bodies inside of them, where the owners no longer cared what you took from them. You should have found those houses.
“Instead, despite all the effort I went through to keep people out of here, you chose mine. You paid a heavy price for your carelessness, my friend.”
Thinking of Mikey’s mission the night he was killed reminded him that he’d never removed his and Sarah’s belongings from Mikey’s backpack. He’d rifled through the pack the morning after he shot the man, and seen Sarah’s jewelry inside it. But he was so distraught at the time that he’d left it there.
He took the backpack from where it lay beside Mikey’s body and dumped its contents on the dining room table.
Some items he recognized as Sarah’s. Some he didn’t. There was a man’s watch he knew never belonged to him, so Dave knew Mikey had visited at least one other house on the night he was shot.
It would have been easy to keep everything, but that would be somehow wrong. He’d remove the items he knew had belonged to him and his wife. And he’d bury the rest with Mikey. He died collecting the items. He might as well have something to show for it. Not that they’d do him much good where he was going.
-36-
Dave was puzzled, and at the same time intrigued.
Was his wife a secret drug dealer, who led a second life he never knew about?
Here before him, still sealed because he was afraid to open it, was a packet that looked just like the ones they used to show on the evening news, every time they had a major drug bust at the Texas border with Mexico.
Wrapped tightly in several layers of translucent plastic, it was roughly the size and shape of a brick. He seemed to recall that’s what they always called the bundles of drugs they confiscated from the drug dealers.
An Unkind Winter (Alone Book 2) Page 13