“We can easily sear the meat, but smoke curing will take hours,” replied Mac.
“I’ll cut chips to feed the Weber while you all sip brandy,” added Tony, smirking.
“Even better!” replied Judy.
When the others retired, Pappy and Mac volunteered to remain tending the smoker, finishing the last batch. Stoking the Weber, Mac added handfuls of chips to the embers. Inexperienced, he added too many and the fire flared up, sending showers of sparks high into the night sky. Realizing his mistake too late, Pappy jammed on the cover to prevent any more sparks from settling on the tent fabric and fall vegetation.
Pappy and Mac settled back in their chairs, looking up at the stars, so prominent in the dark night. The brilliant Milky Way seemed to descend around their little hill.
“Montana has nothing on Alaska for big sky country,” said Mac.
“Yup. Kind of night to snuggle in a warm bag taking in the sky,” replied Pappy.
The men heard the distinct sound of motorcycle engines revving to life.
“Those bikes we’re hearing?” asked Pappy
“Gotta be Harleys, nothing else sounds like that,” Mac replied.
“There’s headlights, way off… but comin’ this way. They’re on the Parkway across the lake,” said Pappy.
“Looks like three of ‘em.”
They watched as lights twisted and turned, motorcycles accelerating rapidly and then braking, headlights shining here then there, widely apart.
“Think they’re looking for something?” asked Mac.
“Think I’ll raise the others,” said Pappy, but the miners and the Captain were already standing behind them tracking the lights.
They seemed to be retracing their steps, thought Mac, or perhaps just some sort of nighttime game. Headlight reflections swept across the lake back and forth.
“There’s no road across the lake to this side; you have to go all the way around,” said Pappy.
“Think they’re looking for us? We had quite a flaming fire awhile ago.”
Without answering, Jack and Pappy climbed to the high perch of the cat and followed the bikes with binoculars. Several times the bikers stopped together as if conferring, and then expanded their maneuvering. Finally, they raced off around the lake and disappeared.
When Jack and Pappy returned, Mac asked, “See much?”
Pappy replied, “Just glimpses in the headlights. Doesn’t look good. They’ve got heavy weapons, I think. I suppose we’d better post a watch again… but I don’t know what we’d do if they were actually lookin’ for us.”
Jack faced Tony and said, “Maybe we should pull outta here right now.”
“I can’t drive at night with no moon,” Tony replied. “We’d be lit up like a Christmas tree and that machine ain’t quiet, either. They could hear us comin’ way off. Besides, if they went back to the highway, they could just lie in wait and we’d never see ‘em until too late.”
Jack asked, “Any idea how far away they come from?”
“A ways,” Mac answered, “but I’m sure I heard ‘em fire up, so they couldn’t have been that far.”
“And you think they might be looking for our fire?”
“Well… we flared up the Weber with lots of sparks… and we’re on top of this hill… and we weren’t trying to hide...”
The Captain called the alarm, “Then they saw the fire and they are looking for us. Bikers carrying rifles on a dark night can’t be out for a cruise.”
“Wish I had a good rifle myself,” said Jack. “Listen… if they’re still looking for our campfire, anyone in that tent tonight would be a sittin’ duck.”
Tony said, “What if we were to give ‘em a little come-on, just in case?”
“Time to pick our brute?” asked Jack.
“Yup… but we need a plan,” answered Tony.
“They come into camp with guns blazing, someone’s gonna get hurt… no way around that I can see,” replied Jack.
“This ain’t a bad place for an ambush of our own… lake on one side, tracks on the other, good cover. What if we blaze up that fire, put a coupla dummies sittin’ in chairs and play the chump.”
“Why not add a simmering roast, a bottle of fine wine, and a table set for dinner,” Mac said acidly. “We can always make new friends.” Combat talk spooked him.
“They’re not going to just walk right in and say howdy,” added the Captain ignoring the cynicism.
“Sure enough, but all we need is close,” said Jack. “Think about it. If they don’t come, it’s no loss except maybe a little sleep. But if they do… what choice do we have?”
“There’s a good chance some of us may die with that scheme!” said the Captain.
“And if we don’t defend ourselves, dead will be a sure thing,” said Tony. “These guys ain’t cruisin’ to pay their respects.”
Jack didn’t wait for more debate. “Mac, take Judy and your sleeping bags to those trees down near the lake. Dig yourselves in, get warm and keep quiet. Keep your heads down and don’t move no matter what happens. They won’t know how many we are. We’ll take up positions for crossfire and avoid your hiding place. Take the pistol and don’t say a word until we give the all clear. If we don’t make it and they come for you, don’t move a hair until the last possible moment, then take ‘em out. If someone comes near you without warnin’, it won’t be one of us. Rely on that with your life and don’t hesitate to shoot!”
Jack was taking charge of the plan, accepting no more protest. Judy, overhearing the conversation and by way of consent, emerged from the tent carrying two sleeping bags. Mac accepted his limited role and grabbed the latrine shovel.
He selected a grove of spruce trees near the lakeshore, perfect to slither under and remain unseen. He excavated two furrows in the needle compost and covered the bags deep under the sweeping branches. Disturbing nothing beyond the branches, he felt secure in the hideaway. Quietly, he asked Judy if she was okay and she whispered, “Calm as can be!” Mac didn’t feel nearly as confident.
Later with only a cloudy moon, Mac could see little beyond the spruce branches except for the top of the hill where the Weber fire blazed away. Two figures with brimmed hats, slumped in chairs, wrapped in sleeping bags, were fast ‘asleep.’
An hour passed while Mac listened to critter sounds and the rhythmic lap of lake water, wondering if everyone was overreacting.
Mac snapped awake hearing the frightening sound of Harleys rumbling along the highway. When the engines shut down nearby, there could be only one explanation. Someone among them added wood to the Weber and the fire flared up modestly.
Mac lay motionless, trying to breathe calmly lest he miss a revealing sound. Lapping rhythmic waves morphed into labored breathing from somewhere along the shoreline.
The heavy breather was approaching camp from lakeside. Did his companions realize the surprise approach? Mac now had no doubt they were the intended prey. Jack’s earlier warning to stay put and unmoving was unnecessary. Paralyzed with fear, Mac heard the breather move behind his copse of trees where he couldn’t be seen from camp. Mac quelled his shaking and heard only one breather nearby. Then the breather walked around the copse of trees near Mac to view camp.
Beneath branches, Mac could see a man’s booted feet and hear his raspy breathing. Mac was so close, he could have reached out and touched a boot, so he pulled out his pistol and aimed at an indistinct foot, but remained undecided.
Disadvantaged by his blind position under the trees, he held off. Once the foot moved, he wouldn’t have a target, but if he only wounded the man, he would surely fire his automatic rifle into the trees condemning Judy as well. He decided to wait for a better moment.
The boot man moved back out of sight, but seconds later, howled and fell down thrashing about moaning and cursing. Gunfire er
upted on the hill, then booming shotguns. Thrusting branches above him aside, Mac moved forward to clearly see his adversary. He saw a sleeveless muscular man writhing on the ground with a wicked metal tip protruding from his shoulder blade, bleeding profusely, contortions of pain causing more howling. The instant the injured man saw Mac, he reached for Mac’s neck and squeezed fiercely. Mac pushed the barrel of the pistol hard against his adversary’s ribs and pulled the trigger three times. Releasing Mac’s neck, the man slumped motionless facing him.
Mac would never forget the blood-lust stare as the brute tried to strangle him. He crept back under his cover of branches, trying to remain calm. Back near Judy, Mac grabbed her trembling hand and held up a fingered V assuring her that he wasn’t hurt. Shaking with fright and silence, he waited for the all clear signal from Jack, which didn’t come.
Mac spotted the brute’s military rifle just beyond the branches. He stretched out, grabbed the strap and pushed back under cover. The weapon was unfamiliar and in the darkness, he doubted he could use it, but was glad it couldn’t be used against either of them. He handed the target pistol to Judy.
Mac couldn’t see his companions. At the top of the hill, the overturned Weber smoldered on the ground. Following instructions, Mac and Judy remained unmoving and quiet. The eastern sky began its pre dawn glow and still Mac heard nothing. More time passed while his bladder protested with insistence. Mac rolled quietly away from Judy. Relieving himself in the frigid morning air sent his urine rising as vapor. If someone was watching, he was surely giving himself away.
Chuckling, Jack and Tony emerged from opposite sides of camp.
“Fine ranger you’d make sending up signals for everybody to see,” hollered Jack.
Mac crawled out from his hideaway holding the military rifle for Jack’s inspection. “Naw, that’s yours. You earned it… and don’t forget the bandoliers. But next time… stay put. If that third fuck had been hiding as we thought, you’d have been dead meat when you reached out for that gun.”
Still trembling, Judy emerged from the trees and embraced Mac long and warmly. Addressing the men, she said, “Where did you all go? I thought you died in that gunfire.”
“We had to be sure that third dude wasn’t lying in wait somewhere. He must have abandoned his buddies,” said Tony, “Everyone’s fine.”
Mac was glad to see the pilots standing high on the cat perch guarding camp. Pappy was armed with his bow and a new military style rifle, no doubt just acquired.
“You said third dude. Where’s the second?” Mac asked anxiously. He could hardly squeak out the words.
“Just over that hill. While he was shootin’ dummies, we shot the real one. Damn good idea those dummies, Tony!” Jack was ebullient.
“Who shot the arrow?” Mac whispered. Jack simply pointed at Pappy.
“Thank God!”
“He was reluctant to shoot with both of you so close… that’s why he waited so long. When that brute stepped out of the shadows, Pappy let fly but he held his bow drawn full back so long, I thought he would miss. The screams and thrashing turned out to be the perfect diversion.”
“You planned it that way?” Mac asked, astonished.
“Sure! You had a better idea, maybe?”
“No… but wait a minute… back to your third guy. I didn’t hear a motorcycle drive away. Has he really left or is he still hiding under some tree like we were?”
“We don’t know what happened to the third guy,” replied Jack. “When there was light enough to see, only two cycles were parked on the tracks. The third guy must have pushed his away. Anyway, they came from behind us… not where we’re headed.”
Jack removed the bandoliers from the second brute and was dragging his body when he suddenly let go and exclaimed, “Shit… look at this!” A pant leg pouch had come open and dozens of finger rings spilled in a bright streak along the ground. Most were diamond wedding rings.
“This brute’s been robbing corpses and I’ve just touched the son of a bitch.” Mac’s hand went involuntarily to his throat remembering the strangling grip.
“And Pappy’s handled his rifle!”
Judy responded, “Jack, unless all of them were immune, they didn’t get sick from touching the dead, and we probably won’t either. Washing up might make us feel better.”
They all washed, but risked bringing along the untreated rifles and bandoliers anyway. Everyone now feared violent predators more than plague bodies.
The night’s experience was a watershed event for Mac’s attitude. Having just killed a man, he was surprised he felt no remorse at all. Perhaps the adrenalin was still talking. He came so close to losing his own life. Chaos and terror altered his thinking… and so had yet another kick of fate.
Back on the highway, Jack insisted on more vigilant travel arrangements. Each hour the four men on the bridge were to rotate the position of ‘shotgun’ so that everyone stayed alert. Still tense, Mac remained attentive even while off duty.
They reached the town of Houston uneventfully, where little damage was visible. Few buildings appeared looted despite the warning from the Talkeetna bandits. Police cars and military vehicles parked prominently at each intersection had apparently thwarted trouble and preserved an orderly town.
Civil order ended abruptly at the Gorilla Fireworks sign near Big Lake Road. A massive earthen barricade lay northwest of the intersection protecting Wasilla. Standing on the cat perch looking southeast with binoculars, Mac could see a procession of chaos. Unmolested vehicles rested interspersed with burned out, rusted wrecks. Three fireworks stands had burned to their foundations leaving only their highway signs intact. Mayhem appeared everywhere without a hint of civil defense. Concerned with pushing through, Tony asked Pappy to have a closer look.
Pappy climbed the earthen barricade surveying the familiar district and soon returned. Alarmed by a dozen untended, desiccated corpses of children, Pappy declared, “Corpses are lying about everywhere. Looks like someone killed families trying to flee over that barrier. Heads up for trouble! This was a decent town, but a damn spooky crossroad, now.”
“Then let’s avoid the place,” said Judy. “Turn back to Houston and go around.”
“That makes sense,” said Jack. “The tracks took another route leaving Houston.”
“I’m for that,” replied Tony. “The rails have gotta be better than this chaos.”
A mile up the highway, Tony found a city road crossing the railroad line and turned east on the rail bed. Shortly, more trouble appeared. The rails had become a short cut for pedestrians. Numerous desiccated corpses sprawled directly on the tracks. Through Wasilla skeletal remains so littered the tracks they couldn’t avoid crunching over them. Everyone feared descending to pull plague victims out of their path.
Coffin cars and burned wrecks marred every block. Roadside shops still stood interspersed with the ashes of others. Fires had raged unchecked. Troubled, Tony slowed at each road crossing watching for hazards and potential trouble.
Near Wasilla Lake Park, Judy hailed Tony to stop, pointing with alarm. Within the park was an encampment of hundreds of tents. Countless mattresses had been spread about in the open and every one held a wrapped corpse. The park had been converted to a death camp surrounded by an improvised chain link fence. Even Jack was spooked.
“Never seen the like, even in Vietnam; let’s bug outta here.”
Tony worked quickly to pass through a berm extending beyond the lake, across the highway and over the rail tracks topped with block guard houses. Once free, his path provided an uncluttered view down the highway to a distant barrel lined police barricade.
Tony steered cautiously through orange barrels beside a phalanx of police and military vehicles surrounding a large revetment of concrete K-blocks. Riding as outside watch on the bridge, Jack saw dozens of military weapons inside the
revetment. At Jack’s insistence, Tony halted.
Jack jumped into the compound and grabbed a long barreled rifle with a large optical scope - a classic sniper’s weapon. He was fearless of corpses as he swept through the post seeking needed gear. He gathered and handed up binoculars, shotguns and rifles, boxes of suitable ammunition, hand radios, six folded military cots, plastic-wrapped winter parkas, and crates of MRE’s. All were pitched into the folds of the platform tent.
Back on the bridge, Jack announced, “This special rifle is my personal possession. I’m the only one who knows how to adjust the optics… otherwise our best gun is useless.”
“Well, here’s hoping that we all don’t pay the price for you jumping among those mortal remains,” said the Captain.
“That any worse than driving over those skeletons on the tracks?” replied Jack. “Cap, I didn’t see you jumping down to move the mortal remains outta our way.”
Thereafter, the highway improved, merging to its original unobstructed freeway. Miles later, Tony viewed an interchange ahead in the midst of the largest barricade he’d seen. He halted and hailed Pappy to join him in the cab.
“Looks like more trouble ahead. Any way around that thing, you ‘spose?”
“This is the major interchange from Anchorage to everywhere north and the perfect place to pinch off traffic. There’s an easy way around heading north or east, but not to Anchorage. South, there’s just the double bridge across the Knick River.”
“Then let’s eyeball the far side we can’t see and have a confab,” replied Tony.
As they drew close, the formidable barricade loomed high over the cat. The concrete interchange was incorporated as a rampart in a steep sided earthen dike topped with massive boulders spanning all highway lanes. Pappy and Tony climbed atop a flat boulder and glassed beyond. Cars, trucks, busses, and big rigs were queued five rows wide without a break as far as they could see.
“Musta been an early quarantine line,” said Tony. “Everything looks so orderly.”
Flight To Pandemonium Page 31