Fortunately, most of the militiamen had aimed for the miners crouched behind the tires. Only the top third of the tanker had bullet holes from those aiming at the bridge. Had the tank held gasoline, there would have been a fire, but the stable diesel fuel just leaked out until it reached the level of the lowest hole. Jack worked plugging the punctures with custom tapered wooden dowels.
Tony changed two tires on the tanker and one on the cat. Jack and Tony worked repairing damaged pneumatic lines along the length of the cat. The tedious work required fitting, crimping and binding brass sleeves custom shaped from ammunition casings.
Reflecting on the violence, Mac thought the Captain would ultimately calm the hostility. Apparently, sergeant fuzz face was relying on his flankers in the woods to achieve surprise and annihilate their little band.
Mac felt no remorse for killing the anarchists. He justified his cynical sense of self-preservation as a consequence of terror. Had a similar impulse for violence dominated all survivors, he wondered… even including that nun? Somehow a consequence of that disease harbored in his mind. They desperately needed a peaceful refuge to emotionally recover.
The following day, Mac no longer felt light headed and could touch his face without wincing. Judy’s prediction of a quick recovery was true. Even so, his hearing had not returned and she couldn’t say with confidence that it ever would.
While Mac’s face was healing, the Captain’s hand was not. A slug had ricocheted off the pavement, spinning through his left hand. Two middle fingers were severed causing a very ‘untidy’ wound. Despite Judy’s best efforts, the hand was now swollen and suppurating.
With repairs finished, Jack was a caged tiger, pacing and anxious to move on. Until then, Jack announced he and Tony were going to create a ‘cover their ass’ barricade. Jack had a spot in mind for a special challenge. When asked to explain, he said, “Those punkers might need to learn to fly.”
The miners detached the tanker and drove out of sight. When they returned hours later, they beamed with prankster’s glee. When pressed, Jack explained, “Used that cyckle they wanted so bad as bait, parked on the bridge. They try to move it, it’s gonna trip fireworks on the beam under their feet, and fly, fly away they’ll go.”
After a moment, Judy said, “But anyone might set it off. That’s not right!”
“Not likely with the corpse of that punker Mac shot tied on the seat.”
Mac silently appraised Jack. What strange behavior, he thought. And here was another bizarre outcome of the calamity: otherwise rational people acting out aggression. Where was the balance between necessary defense and mindless provocation?
The miners worked all evening repacking everything. Jack gave Onita the center seat on the bridge and arranged a reclining canvas chair on the top platform for himself.
He discouraged anyone else from using the chair due to ‘sweepers’ of riverboat fame because the cat was the first tall vehicle to pass on the highway in a long while. Sagging branches could topple anyone who remained unwary.
With the cat and tanker best repaired, and everything loaded, they returned to the highway heading east.
Judy began weaning Mac off the powerful pain killer she had provided. He had been blissfully ignorant of its efficacy until the medication wore off. The jolting ride became increasingly painful as Tony unavoidably drove over cobbles and downed branches.
While they encountered fewer abandoned vehicles, nature was reclaiming the highway. Tony drove cautiously to avoid further damage to his tires since he had used all of his spares. He halted frequently blading aside fallen trees and large rocks. Some boulders were so heavy that all five men together couldn’t have budged them. Tony’s insight for how beneficial the cat would be had been prophetic.
Feeling comfortably distant from Palmer, Onita tried teasing the men into talking. Getting little response, she asked, “Boys, has the cat got your tongue?” The men looked around in puzzled silence. “Aaah, come on… that was easy. Lighten up and have fun.” Her positive, outgoing personality warmed everyone with her enthusiasm.
At lunchtime, Tony always selected an open turnout with minimal obstruction allowing an uninhibited mealtime watch. Lunch on the road was usually MRE’s which heated from within. The aroma of any food attracted hungry feral dogs which darted along the roadside. They were forsaken household pets, some still with collar tags, but now lost and emaciated. Larger dogs emerged from the brush snarling to intimidate competition. Drawing near, the boldest changed behavior, whining and wagging, begging for food. With little to spare, Judy and Onita threw unappetizing scraps of an MRE or jerky, creating a melee of snarling. Despite that sad experience, forsaken pets always brought sympathy.
While passing through a tiny hamlet, a small dog jumped off a cabin porch and followed alongside, never barking, devoting its energy to keeping pace. The pooch ran and on beside the cat. Remembering earlier experiences, Tony sped up hoping the dog would turn back. Although the dog put on a burst of speed, he began to fall behind.
Judy shouted, “Will you just stop, dammit!” She clambered down calling the dog. Meeting Judy, its entire body shook from neck to bobbed tail, panting and prancing with enthusiasm. Judy gathered him up. The fortunate pooch had new companions. Back on board, she asked Jack for water and ‘one of those military meals you all don’t like.’
The pooch, a tricolor Australian Shepherd, outrageously cute and little more than a puppy, was thin and bony. Examining his tags, they discovered he was authoritatively called an “Aussie,” named “Darwin.” Making the rounds, he happy greeted his newly adopted family, then ravenously ate his MRE supper.
As the cat traveled through the afternoon, Darwin quickly adjusted to the risks and comforts high on the perch. He adopted a spot on the canvas directly in front of Judy and Onita, ever alert. When he tangled with his first sweeper, he learned his lesson and kept watch. Soon, those on the bridge depended on Darwin’s scamper into the foot well as a warning of an imminent hazard.
Any movement among the trees brought him instantly to his feet. Despite the bouncing motion of the cat, he was always first to perceive furtive movement. By afternoon, Darwin had everyone following his eyes whenever he rose to stare at the forest. His attentiveness allowed the lookouts to enjoy the scenery and relax.
Even Jack recognized Darwin’s keen senses. The following day he relocated his canvas chair to the catwalk adjacent to Tony’s cab. The dog’s shrill baying bark, reserved for any perceived threat, was his only fault since most were false alarms.
The ladies and Darwin became inseparable, even going into the bush together to relieve themselves. Darwin provided guard duty for any adventure away from the cat. Within a single day, he had become family.
That afternoon, Tony was forced onto a narrow construction detour, encountering a long line of abandoned vehicles blocking the way. He maneuvered the cat onto newly graded construction but halted before a formidable blockade of earth moving equipment parked end to end across the newly graded road.
One side of the barrier abutted a vertical rock wall looming fifty feet high, the other, a fill bank steeply descending to the river, well beyond the capability of four wheelers. Tony might have bladed his way around for the cat, but not pulling the tanker as well. Ensuring an impregnable barrier, bulldozers, heavy excavators and graders were parked in double rows. The cat was incapable of shoving such heavy equipment out of the way.
Tony and Jack descended to investigate. All machines had been disabled.
Jack observed, “I think the weak link might be the two bulldozers at the edge.”
“What if I undermine ‘em and push ‘em down the slope one at a time?”said Tony.
“Might work – slow and easy. There’s no one to call for chain if you go too far.”
“When have you heard me call for chain?”
“You’re the man!
So let’s getter done!”
Everyone bailed off the cat as Jack detached the tanker. Jack was anxious for Tony because the cat wasn’t designed for excavating. But Tony was its master. Blading forward carefully, undermining the edges, he progressively tilted the bulldozers until he could tip each over the embankment. As everyone cheered, he graded a detour. The detour looked perilously loose and unstable to Mac’s engineering eye.
Tony unbolted the spare tire from the blockade grader and secured the tire as he climbed to the cab of the cat.
Jack hailed, “I’ll watch your outside edge.”
“Won’t matter; just stay clear,” answered Tony, “Better I go for broke.”
With confidence in Tony, Jack reconnected the tanker. Tony charged through the blockade without hesitating while his detour rapidly sloughed away as the tanker wheels treaded perilously along the edge. Mac followed the inside wheel path walking behind everyone else, marveling that without mishap, so much of the newly constructed road had tumbled hundreds of feet into the river. The detour would look intimidating and perhaps impassible for anyone following later, he thought… except for bikers.
Concerned with dark incoming weather, Tony spotted a commercial campground hoping to pitch a tent before snow fell. The camp offered a small restaurant and bathhouse and a spectacular view of the precipitous slopes of the Talkeetna Mountains. Tony parked near the forest edge, avoiding a few hapless looking motor homes now resting for eternity.
While Tony and Jack raised the large army tent with the boom and prepared for the night, the ladies washed their hair in the bathhouse. The miners could sleep nearly anywhere and chose the ground under a doubled tarp outside, guarding the tent. Darwin slept inside the tent snuggled with the ladies. He wasn’t a stupid dog.
The men suffered two hour watches on a moonless night huddled in a sleeping bag on the bridge trying to keep warm. Always an early riser anyway, Tony accepted the dreary last watch before dawn. At first light, Darwin unleashed his baying warning. Tired, cold, and groggy, Tony could see nothing amiss and dismissed the warning as another false alarm.
Darwin persisted. Still seeing nothing, Tony removed his wool cap and listened. He heard faint sniffing which he attributed to Darwin until the dog emitted another long wavering bay. Realizing that the pooch couldn’t be doing both, Tony threw off his bag and stood up looking beyond the tent.
A grizzly bear was following scent around camp. Hearing Tony’s movement, the bear reared up and chuffed a warning. Tony shouted for Jack.
“Grizz comin’ round the tent!”
Jack roused and struggled to free his legs from his sleeping bag under the tarp. He took a step to reach for his rifle but wasn’t yet free of entanglement. He fell hard on his elbows without his rifle, a dozen feet from the approaching bear. Jack ducked back into his sleeping bag, hands covering his neck, expecting to be attacked.
Meanwhile, Darwin struggled free of the ladies tent and with a tirade of snarling, intercepted the bear, startling and deflecting him.
As the grizz retreated, Darwin leaped forward and tapped a blow with his forepaws on the bear’s rump. With lightning reaction, the grizz wheeled around and swiped at the pooch. With even faster reflexes, Darwin evaded the swipe and confronted the bear again, growling, staring into his eyes. Whenever the bear looked away, the pooch barked furiously to regain its attention. Now alarmed, the bear alternated between sniffing the dog and chuffing warnings.
With the grizzly occupied, Jack scrambled barefoot up the ladder out of harm’s way. He called for Darwin to break off, certain the pooch was destined for harm.
Repeatedly, the grizz chuffed or charged, but on each occasion, Darwin occupied new ground, retreating, evading or dodging, seemingly at random. The Aussie with his inbred herding sense anticipated every move. Neither fangs nor claws came near him. Darwin remained out of reach, his eyes always trained on the bear. Within the tent, the ladies joined in calling Darwin but he ignored everyone focusing only on the bear.
In a rather humorous tactic, the bear shifted from side to side rather like a football carrier trying to persuade his tackler to commit one way or the other. Darwin stayed with each move, never fooled, his intense stare locked on the grizz. The bear could neither get hold of his tormentor nor avoid him. Everyone ceased calling, watching and waiting.
Unable to outmaneuver the agile shepherd, the grizzly ambled a few paces away from camp. But ambling didn’t satisfy the dog. As the bear presented its rump, Darwin charged and with all four paws bounded off its backside, then withdrew. The bear hastened its retreat, but apparently still not fast enough. Darwin repeated his herding bump, and stood new ground, barking furiously. The grizzly finally vaulted away among the trees out of sight. Darwin stood his ground, still watching.
Everyone was astonished, especially Jack who had been rescued unharmed from a likely bear attack. The ladies, who had been peering through the tent flap, emerged and gathered Darwin up giving him loving hugs. Leaving the ladies, he excitedly sought the others, bum wagging for attention.
Everyone chattered, recalling Darwin’s remarkable maneuvers and fearless confrontation. Tony wasn’t impressed. “That was an inexperienced bear, pro’bly just a yearling. That pooch messes with a seasoned male… those moves are going to be the end of ‘im. Truth be told, I was half asleep and let you all down. Won’t happen again.”
Gusting wind bringing sleet made breakfast and morning preparations unpleasant. Finally ready to travel, Tony said, “Think I’ll hold off for a few. We’re pro’bly gonna need to chain up unless this damned sleet stops.”
Jack scoffed at lingering, “This storm is just beginning and gonna get worse while we sit on our ass between these high peaks.”
No one wanted to travel in such weather, but Jack began chaining up in the bitter cold. Tony joined him carrying the hot kettle for hand warming. The rest reluctantly lent a hand packing personal gear on the cat. The ladies boarded first carrying all of the sleeping bags and settled muffled in the foot well with only their eyes exposed. The bimini top for the bridge was frozen furled and open to the weather. Everyone huddled low, arranging tarps to capture Tony’s bridge heat. Jack took the watch on top wearing only a coat.
The day turned terrible for driving. The road quickly glazed over with ice and a layer of crystals, swirling in eddies. Emerging white clouds added a dusting of snow which obscured road hazards otherwise easily avoided on a clear day.
Tony proceeded slowly. But as he traversed a curve on a stretch of banked highway, the slick tanker tires side slipped well off track. Tony eventually recovered but his passengers realized their taxi was only marginally under control. Thick tire chains traveling on hard ice created bone jarring vibrations.
Jack rode all morning on the platform canvas chair enduring the sleet, protected with only a coat. Not even Darwin would ride up there. By noon, his wool cap, collar length hair and beard were coated with ice. Icicles streamed from the corners of his mouth and nostrils. Hunched over, still scowling, no one volunteered to relieve him.
Eureka Summit with its wide turnout among tall light standards and its sweeping panoramic view of the Chugatch Mountains was the perfect spot for a break. Waiting for lunch MRE’s to heat, the ladies gathered around Tony’s towering white man’s fire. With nowhere to sit but on the snow, four ravenous men stood leaning forward, wolfing cold canned meat with their fingers while juice streamed down their beards. The Captain stood apart sparing his bandaged hand, telling them they all looked like boxcar tramps, which wasn’t far from the truth.
A lifeless blanket of snow and hoar frost covered the landscape. The few ice rimmed lakes nearby reflected dreary skies on stormy waters without the least appeal. Looking for game, Mac’s long sweep of the pass found nothing.
Mac wondered what fate awaited them come winter. His lonely little band continued traveling in late fall with
out a clear destination in mind. He thought of the Donner Party long ago in California whose best-laid plans had been sadly defeated time after time by travel too late in the season. He and his companions seemed every bit as isolated and diminished as those Sierra immigrants. His little band even looked rather like the legendary settlers traveling across the plains in weary covered wagons.
Interrupting Mac’s dark thoughts, Judy and Onita cheerfully called from below for buckets to pick low bush cranberries which hungry critters had overlooked among the rocks. Expecting objections over the delay from their ill-tempered companion, they pleaded for help picking. While Jack remained high on watch with folded arms, the rest picked nearly five gallons of the ripe, delectable red berries. Judy promised to cook them with honey into sweetened syrup.
Finding the surprise bounty lifted Mac’s spirits. Taking account of their luck seemed to have turned it around, but he kept such superstitions to himself.
Tony gently descended the slopes heading east and slowed to a crawl at famed Eureka Lodge. Desperately looking for any refuge, they saw dozens of snow covered vehicles without a trace of activity. No one was willing to investigate.
Near dusk, Pappy called for a halt to consider forlorn looking Lake Louise Road. Tony shut off the engine and all seven companions crowded together on the bridge for a chat. Jack opened the conversation impatiently, “So why are we stopping here?”
Pappy replied, “I know this lake area like the back of my hand. Up this road about twenty miles are four lodges around two nice lakes. Every fall for ten years I’ve spent two weeks in the best of them out on a point surrounded by Lake Louise that’s even better than Talkeetna Lodge. Great hunting and fishing… lots of winter hunting trails… good winter fishing. This place has everything for wintering over. I think we ought to go there.”
Flight To Pandemonium Page 38