“And Laz… make it strong enough to withstand the next storm.”
Outside, Pug stood pondering on the porch, then suggested constructing the privy using bridge decking. Attached to a corner of the cabin under the broad porch roof, it couldn’t blow away. He also proposed a floor flush with the porch with a capacity underneath suitable for the duration of winter without needing further attention. It all made sense. Lazlo admired a man of action.
Once underway, Lazlo and Ernie were surprised by Pug’s adept and practiced use of the tools. The man never paused, moving smoothly from one step to the next. The two volunteered all the grunt labor he needed and allowed Pug free reign. By dusk, the task almost complete, they left the privy serviceable for the night fitted with a modern seat borrowed from the frozen commode at the command post.
“Got a question for ya, Pug,” said Lazlo. “What’s the big shelf for with that hole in the wall?”
“That’s to warm your backside with a portable propane heater from the command post. Must be a dozen of ‘em over there.”
“No kiddin’. Why didn’t we think of that before now? Man… this may even get me out of the doghouse with Christie.”
That evening, the ladies were pleased with the progress. By the following day, they were ecstatic with the final product, warm, and nearly comfortable. Next, Pug swiftly constructed a new cabin dining table sized to seat everyone. Lazlo got a provocative kiss from Christie.
But Lazlo was saddened that conveniences so commonplace before the calamity, crude as the privy was to be sure, could now bring such joy. They had regressed a long way in Yukon Camp. Contemplating a future life gave him strong incentive to leave.
Before morning, another arctic storm blew in, returning severe cold. Outside on the porch, Lazlo’s breath froze his mustache and beard within minutes. The day wasn’t meant for experimenting with heavy trucks. Instead, they rotated quick shifts outside cutting deck firewood.
After two days of inactivity, Ernie and Lazlo fidgeted restlessly with cabin fever, endlessly churning travel alternatives between them. Pug seemed to be pondering another world.
Ernie grew tense with the ongoing delay. After the ladies retired, and by the light of a single candle, they gathered for another discussion. Ernie described his simple solution of preparing two trucks without the humvee, eliminating virtually every item not essential for travel including Christie’s store of medical supplies.
“Then I’ll let you sell Christie on that. I’ve been in enough trouble recently.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Pug. “I’ve been thinkin’ about a better plan - taking four vehicles.”
“What?” replied Ernie instantly. “What have you been smoking?”
“You’re the one smoking his brain runnin’ at the mouth for days,” said Pug, angrily. “Yea, four of ‘em, two trucks and two humvees. Two of ‘em will tow trailers full of spare tanks of fuel…”
“Spare tanks?” interrupted Ernie again. “Where we gonna find those?”
“Are you slow witted or what?” snapped Pug. “We’ve got lots of ‘em.”
“Man… let him finish,” said Lazlo. “I gotta hear this!” But Ernie didn’t need to be silenced. Pug must be on to something he hadn’t thought of.
“Must be a dozen other trucks out there with their own tanks… nice rectangular ones that’ll nest together tight. We just have to remove ‘em, and take ‘em with us, maybe with just a few jerry cans to spare. Simple as that. Got any more smart questions?”
“Okay, okay… you’ve got my undivided attention,” said Ernie.
“With the second humvee, we won’t need the snowmobile as backup. Without that and so damn many jerry cans, the rest should fit just fine and then some… Christie’s medical supplies and maybe even a few luxuries such as propane heaters.
“So… taking four of ‘em, we look to the landings along the river for more fuel, like Fort Yukon, Circle, maybe that Park, and then Eagle. If we find some… great; we top off. If we don’t, we pick the best humvee and leave the other at Eagle with its trailer. Refuel the others with that… full tanks and backup… and then move on when the time is right. We still have one humvee as a spare in case of trouble… three rigs together to take on the passes.
“Then there’s driving arrangements. On the river, Christie should drive one of the humvees in the lead along with Piquk guiding, ‘cause she’s the only one knows the way. We saw lots of dead ends on that river. Then me driving one of the trucks with a trailer, then Cindy driving the other humvee with a trailer, and last, you two drive the other deuce with the best working gun. From Eagle, we can work out whatever seems best with what’s left running.
“Lots of other details to work out, I’m thinkin’ but that’s the gist. Shouldn’t have any problem with fuel if there’s enough left around here, or with our gear unless somethin’ breaks down. So, shoot me down if you see a hole, and better time to bitch now than later.”
“Why Ernie and me driving together and Cindy alone?” asked Lazlo.
“Because you need one to drive and t’other to shoot. You ain’t the Terminator and you can’t do both. Ernie’s the only one experienced with that gun and he should always be ready. You can watch out for Cindy in front of you. You go last ‘cause you can see trouble coming and meet it… but more likely it’ll come from behind us straight into your gun.”
“That reminds me of what Christie said. What if we find bad guys in Eagle?”
“I’d rather all the vehicles carry those guns,” said Ernie. “We need to look real hairy if we come on any of those brutes.”
“Suit yourself,” said Pug. “Never shot such a gun in my life.”
“Damn fine plan, all in all,” said Lazlo. “Lot better than mine.”
“Don’t see any holes… sounds good to me,” said Ernie.
“Oh… there’ll be holes, you can bet, but we’ll plug ‘em as we go.”
“So… when do we talk to the women?” asked Ernie.
“Damned if I know,” said Lazlo.
No one suffered cabin fever worse than Pug. For more than a decade, he had lived alone. Over the years, he learned to sleep light, alert for any trouble at the powerhouse. Whenever Piquk’s baby whimpered, Pug awoke. For several nights running, the colicky baby frequently awakened Pug. By morning, he was tired, restless, and needed exercise and solitude.
Following breakfast with only light wind and despite the cold, he announced he was going to cut firewood until he worked off his bad attitude. He dressed warmly and left. Soon the others could hear his chain saw at work. Ernie and Lazlo, shamed into action, joined him.
Pug built a smoky hand warming fire using the frozen wooden revetment. Once into the task, all three men enjoyed the release of labor. They worked with enthusiasm, especially as the day brightened and warmed. The warming fire settled to coals and they paused over coffee, turning to the inevitable topic of leaving.
Lazlo asked, “Remember our plan about testing the ice? That might be a problem, I’m thinking. Would the ice hold four trucks in a row, ya think?”
“We should spread apart some to avoid pushing our luck.”
“What about weak spots? Is the ice always thick?” Lazlo asked.
“Worse than weak spots,” Pug replied. “I saw a stretch of open water just east of here on the way over with Cindy.”
“Good God! I sure hope Piquk knows her way around…”
Ernie ceased talking, gazing off toward the horizon. Lazlo and Pug turned around to look. A thick column of dense black smoke towered high into the sky beyond the trees south of the river.
“What the hell can that be?” asked Ernie.
“Looks like an oil fire… and a big one,” answered Lazlo.
“Looks like it might be coming from the Alyeska Pump Station,” said Ernie.
>
“But what could have set off the fire? There’s no power, been no lightning… and don’t tell me it’s from natural combustion,” said Lazlo. “It’d take a blow torch to light off that thick petroleum in this weather.”
“Good thing we let our own fire go to coals,” said Ernie.
“Yea… well, take a look at our chimney flue,” said Pug. Banked back, the stove was producing a lazy column of white smoke rising high into the sky on the cold still air.
“I’m going to alert the women,” said Lazlo. “They should see this.” Before the ladies arrived, the distant fire increased, topping off into a spreading horizontal cloud. All stood silently watching.
Christie asked, “You think all that’s coming from the pump station? What might’ve started it?”
“Only one likely explanation,” said Lazlo. “Someone torched it.”
“Laz, can they be way up here?” asked Christie, more than concerned.
Cindy said distinctly and slowly, with fear in her voice, “Oh… my… God.”
Christy said, “You haven’t answered my question, Laz. Have some of those brutes found their way this far north?”
“How can I answer that, Christie? Sure looks like someone has… and brainless to light off such a huge fire. Unless…” Lazlo trailed off with his answer.
“Unless someone doesn’t give a damn about anything. Is that what you were thinking?”
“Christie, I’m just trying to keep my thinking under control. That’s what you always want me to do and not get impulsive, right? That’s one explanation… no doubt.”
“Then, Lazlo, I’ve made up my mind… it’s time to leave. This place isn’t safe any longer!”
The little band stood watching the smoke, all quietly pondering the situation. “Damn!” said Ernie. “We’ve finally made up our minds, but we’re not prepared at all.”
Pug said, “Let’s just have lunch as always and talk about this calmly. There’s so much to get organized. But first, let’s shut down that woodstove cold ‘til after dark.”
At lunch, everyone agreed to depart and assigned themselves tasks, planning to leave within two days if possible. Faced with a formidable effort of sorting, lifting and loading gear and fueling and servicing the vehicles, Christie began making a list allocated between the men and the women. The men’s list was long and challenging.
Suddenly Piquk hailed over the conversation, “Listen! Out there!” They could just make out the sound of an engine, wafting in and out somewhere in the distance, winding, then fading. Cindy and Ernie immediately headed for the door.
“Wait!” bellowed Pug. “Don’t show yourselves. Look through the window. Where are the binoculars?” Even with glasses, Ernie saw nothing moving. Nevertheless, cracking open the door left no doubt. The sound of an engine ceased abruptly somewhere nearby.
Ernie spotted the rider. A man climbed on top of the cage to the pipeline on the far side the bridge. He remained there peering across the river scoping the military encampment with binoculars.
“Bad lookin’ dude,” said Ernie, “all leather and chains. Can’t see him anymore.”
Soon the engine started and climbed up the grade winding through abandoned cars, then faded away.
“Sounded like a snowmobile to me,” said Ernie.
Cindy was shaken. “Way wrong!” she shouted. “I know that sound… a bike!”
“How can that be… on the ice in the middle of winter?” asked Pug gently.
“Studded racing tires. Those bikers must know the dare! Ice is way easy.”
“Makes sense,” said Lazlo. “No snowmobile could get through that crush of cars on the far side anyway, but with a motorcycle…”
Dread penetrated the room. Christie asked, “Any possible way we could leave in the morning, guys?”
“Maybe,” said Pug, always positive about any task, “but it’ll mean working straight through the night. So damn much to be done.”
Ernie nodded, “But I’m for it and we should try.”
“If we’re calm and get our act together…”
“Then let’s start right now!” said Cindy. “I won’t be a slave!”
“Cindy, question for ya,” said Pug, “If you know about bikers on ice, what is the worst threat, where anyone with experience would be wary?”
“Oil! No… water and oil mixed together!”
Impressed, but to be certain, Pug asked, “Where did you learn all this?”
“From my brother. He ran a motorcycle racing shop, but he died,” she said sadly.
“From the bat plague?” Pug asked thoughtlessly.
“No! Bikers killed him! Bikers just like those slavers!” replied Cindy with fists clenched.
“Alright Pug, enough of that. We’ve all got so much to do,” said Christie. She had misgivings about Cindy’s explanation and worried that mounting trauma from the passing of her father, the Fairbanks flight, the destruction of her airplane and now the dreaded biker was overtaking a sweet young girl.
“We do for sure; so let’s get ‘er done,” said Pug. “Gonna be a ball buster.”
54
The Military Encampment, January 19, 2019. Pug led them inside the military dining hall. “I got somethin’ to say outta their hearing. If that biker worked his way through all those wrecks, there had to be a reason. I think that guy heard our chainsaw this morning. That sound carries for miles. Came down to check us out, and saw all those guns. Might’ve seen our smoke, too, and went back for his buddies. I didn’t wantta say so in there, but I think trouble is comin’ soon… for those guns, and maybe even for us. I didn’t realize until today that bikers can drive on river ice.
“So… we need to roll by dawn. We’ve got eighteen hours to do what we thought would take a week. If somethin’ goes wrong, and it will, we need to say fuck it and move on without whining even a minute. Ya with me?”
Ernie and Lazlo nodded grimly.
“Okay, first things first. We need to pitch these mess tables out and take back this garage… and heat this place to work… get those trucks you picked started and runnin’. Then the humvees.
“Ernie… you’re the military man, so you should pick whatever big guns we need and disable the rest. Get ‘em tested and working right away in case the boys come back early. Firing ‘em off might be a good idea. Little target practice directly across the river might keep heads down, if someone is watching us. A lot of activity around this military stuff might even make the ‘em a little nervous. Lots of noise and movement won’t matter. They already know what they want. Might even think we’re military if we act like it.
“Lazlo and I’ll work on our fuel troubles… gonna be a bitch in such short order. We’re gonna cut off those tanks without draining ‘em first. No time for it. We’ll need your help loading from time to time. Find two or three of the best trailers and whatever else you want… and generator lights for tonight. You’re the man, Ernie…but hustle and choose…we’ll just do it your way.
“It’ll take hours to load with only three of us. Just pitch in our gear; we can sort later. I gotta little surprise in mind, in case those gangstas decide to chase us down. We’ll need lots of antifreeze, so that’ll load last. And before we leave, we’re gonna have a little fire of our own, so find flares and gasoline… lots.
“I’m not tryin’ to be dictator, just get things movin’, okay?”
Ernie and Lazlo agreed enthusiastically. The man was a marvel.
“Then let’s open those big doors and get ‘er done!”
The women had developed the habit of working closely together, loosely organized. Unknown to the men, they had also developed a plan of action and moved swiftly… and they were far better prepared.
Christie well remembered their desperate trials months earlier and decided to organize bundles
of clothing, gear, and MRE’s to last a week. She bundled medical supplies and revisited the stacks of military camping gear gathering winter clothing, spare parkas and duplicates of everything.
By nightfall, they broke off packing to feed the baby and Puppy, and to prepare a thick pot of stew. Tackling the frozen outdoor food locker would be next, their most difficult task.
Using winches and Lazlo’s rigging, they loaded the last of the heavy fuel tanks onto a deuce and a trailer. Lazlo called a halt. At first, he marveled that Pug, so much older than himself, could work continually at such a furious pace. He had been determined to match Pug step for step. But now he was exhausted, needed dinner and a break, and finally said so.
Without comment, Pug dropped his tools where he stood, joined the others and headed for the cabin, leaving the lights blazing. Surprised by the ladies’ stockpile of roped bundles ready to be loaded, they judiciously said nothing, except to acknowledge their good work. Everyone welcomed the stew, too weary for talk.
By morning’s first light, they were ready. All came together during the wee hours of the morning while they numbed themselves to the nonstop work of loading and roping, their bodies longing for rest. Cindy’s youth and anxiety enabled her to work at a frenetic pace hauling and loading most of the gear and food assembled on the cabin porch.
Four loaded vehicles were lined up in order of travel beside the cabin, two humvees and two deuces as planned. Each stood idling and warm with a handheld radio tuned to the same frequency. One truck and one humvee each towed a military trailer with a tarp covered load of canned military food, split firewood, and fuel tanks.
After so many months of corrosion, Ernie chose two deuces having weather covered guns, and armored command humvees for the ladies. While the humvees were unarmed, the armor would keep the ladies secure and better protected from the light weapons they expected the bikers to carry.
Flight To Pandemonium Page 55