***
This was the coldest time of year for this part of the country. The mechanics, however, wanted to be in the shop and working. They had gathered the materials and built a version of Jack's rocket stove. Jack had finally got past his old fireman paranoia and approved. The rocket stove theory was that it burned clean and took very little fuel to make a hot fire. They placed it in the corner of auto shop. It helped take the edge off of the winter temps. All the mechanics layered up their clothes and worked away in the Casa Dos double garage.
They wanted to get the bus project done and move on to the big bad machine. They located a small bus that had been a transport for a big nursing home. The find was in a huge salvage yard, surrounded as the law required by a tall fence. The men knew when they got inside the acres of auto skeletons and parts and pieces that they had struck it rich. Not only would they find their bus, there was a wealth of cars from nearly new to antique old. They would eventually plunder this treasure trove for their pet project. For now, they had settled on the mini bus from the Peaceful Valley Senior Citizens Home.
It would take the newly in-service water tanker, to pull the bus to the auto shop. Getting the tanker running had been good experience for the mechanics. It still took about a month of working most days, to get the bus back in running order. There was a damage on the back and side of the bus. They bolted metal armor plates onto the sides. The men agreed, the name of the senior citizen home had to disappear. The inside was in good clean condition and there were seats for about 30 people. New tires were put on. By the end of the month, Unity had an armored bus in it's fleet. It was stored at the Fire Station, where the water tanker was kept. The station was a good place to store spare tires and extra automotive maintenance supplies.
They thought they were nearly to the day when they could work on their mean machine project. It was still about a month away, to their disappointment. The lake group had no transportation and neither did Joel. Joel had actually owned a small electric hybrid, before the event. It was deep fried. At the wrecking wonderland they had recently discovered, these needs were filled. Gilley's lake group became the proud new owners of a vintage van. It was old enough that the mechanics had it running quickly. The rusted out side didn't matter, as it was fitted with bolted on metal plates like the other vehicles. A Volkswagen bug, suited Joel just fine. This Unity armored vehicle fleet was certainly not sharp looking. They roared around the three square miles of Unity and sometimes outside on scavenging trips and water hauls. Beauties or not, they darn sure did the jobs that were necessary for the survival of these unified groups. Mufflers and emission controls, air conditioners, high tech sound systems and shiny fiberglass bodies, were not the traits of these rumbling relics. The mechanics secretly talked, however, about how their bad ass machine was going to be a looker.
They found an old tractor in a field. A little tinkering, got it chug, chugging along. They moved it out to the five acres. They would soon look for that stock and start the garden there. The offer was made to the hermit, Herm, of a vehicle. Herm said, “No thanks, my mule is just fine.” And that was the end of that.
So, March was right there and the worst of the cold was behind them. There would be some odd cold days here and there, and some wind. Around here, green started peeking out and some days could be very warm in March and April. It was a relief to not have to worry so much about the fuel for heating fires. The Unity Motor Company had worked hard through the winter. They had finally earned the time to start the job that they wanted to be working on.
The mechanics got their pet project off the ground. They had to keep the other vehicles in the fleet in good running order and they had to do their share of the other duties, such as water runs. Then, they could immerse themselves in the mean machine creation. Tate was the driving force. Jack enjoyed being involved when he was able. For now, he and other members of the groups were very deep into strategies for the fortifying of their borders.
Chapter Seven
BARRICADES, BAND-AIDS, and BEANS
There had still been no warning messages from their lone spy. Jack had become very concerned, however. Months earlier, the fires that burned for months had gone away, you rarely saw any whiffs of smoke rising from the horizon above the city. Lately, he had noticed gray spirals above the trees and housetops. It appeared to be in the southern part of the town. It was probably three or four miles away. Definitely something new. He passed his observations along. They needed to start implementing some of their plans for better protecting their borders. The warming weather made the vipers start slithering. The threat that they had avoided for the past months was growing closer. He hoped that their spy was still surviving and they could get some information from him, soon.
Jack did not like the fact that the fires of Unity burned everyday. The smoke clouds and aromas of their cooking, drifted out. Their small fleet of vehicles, the everyday routines of their newly established lives, were evident. It wasn't exactly bustling but it was busy. He finally reached a peace with himself. This was their struggle to live, they could not secret it away. You could not hide from trouble, sometimes you had to face it head-on.
It was agreed that there had been very little signs of trouble from the southern border. The area around and beyond the church compound was much more rural. For the time being, they were cautious and did not feel threatened at that southern boundary.
The northern border was where they felt the greatest vulnerability. The groups considered the large grocery market to be their northern border. In front of that market ran the four lane main highway. It was, of course, still clogged with deteriorating cars. They felt certain that the gang would slowly move through the city and would enter Unity at that boundary. This border must be made stronger.
Everyday, several of the men from all of the groups worked together. The mechanics were in the auto shop most days. The women were competent, Jack's compound had security. Matt, Dane, Cody and David all joined with the members of the church and lake groups. They slowly, began to pull the dead cars into a barrier. They formed three rows of cars across the wide highway. On one side, was the street that led to the market. The parking lot of the market was already thick with cars. They continued the barrier down that side street for about a block. The business development behind the market had been young and most of the streets dead-ended. Across the highway a gated housing development stood. All of it's streets were dead ends. They placed cars in front of the gates.
This would only keep the gangs from driving into their small town. It wouldn't, of course, be protection from the gang moving in on foot. The loner had said, they did have some vehicles. On the western wooded boundary, Joel lived and the hermit. No one knew the exact location of Herm's shack, but he was in the dense trees. They had tested. The clanging of his bell, could be heard echoing, all the way to Jack's. Jack's compound was barely a half mile from Joel, inside that western border. On the eastern border, near the main highway, was Gilley's lake group compound. Their neighborhood was not accessible to the inner city by streets.
This job was back breaking work. It took planning. You couldn't just pick up a vehicle and drop it into line. Some had flat tires. They had to start with the ones closest to the border, opening up a path. They used their heaviest vehicles, they pulled and they pushed. The young men of the town and their strong backs were indispensable. The theory was, with three rows of vehicles, even ramming into the barrier would not quickly breach it. March was nearly gone when they were finishing the northern barriers.
One morning, when they arrived to work on the car walls, Matt checked the planter for a message. He walked across the parking lot and handed a piece of paper to his grandfather. The loner's message spelled out a warning. Gang on the move. Nearing your borders. Be on alert.
Jack pushed his cap up and scanned the area. He just knew the man was staying close. He wanted to talk to him. He went to the War Wagon and dug around for a pen and pad. He wrote a note out and put it in the planter. Pl
ease meet with me, here at the planter, tomorrow morning. I will bring hot coffee.
Jack shared the loner's message with the men at the work site. Gilley was there that day. He said, “We have this barrier looking pretty strong. I think we should work our way back down the highway towards the church compound. Any road that comes all the way through from the city, we could block off. There are really only about three. There is one that comes from a western highway. That would be a long way around, not a logical point of attack. We could block it also. It wouldn't be one hundred percent but it would be a big deterrent for drive ins.
Michael said, “Isn't that going to make it hard for us to get out of the township?”
Joel was leaning on his VW bug. He said, “Most of us that have lived around here for a while, know of some ways to get out. There is an old utility trail behind me, through the woods. We can develop our own ways to get in and out.” That sounded good to all. They took one last look at their northern fortifications. They loaded up and moved to the first in road and started barricading.
Gilley, one of his son-in-laws, Joel and Jason were moving cars from the highway to block the toll road exit. This was one of three roads that came in from the city. Jason drug the heavy chain, to hook it around the bumper of a truck. He was intent on securing the hook into a chain link, when he heard a deep growl. Something was very near. He stood, as slowly as he could, reaching for his .45. Just as he was straightened up, a snarling slobbering blur lunged. The large dog bit down on his ankle. Jason shot down into the dogs head and it dropped away. Two more mangy wild animals were right behind the dog. The frightening thing was, the shot had not scared them away. Jason shot both of them and yelled for Gilley. He heard another three rapid shots. Gilley, the son-in-law and Joel came running to Jason. Strung out for about 100 feet, six dogs lay dead. Two turned tail and were running away into the woods.
Gilley looked down at Jason's shredded jeans. “Did he bite through, Jason?”
“I am not sure. I have on my boots. I feel something wet inside.”
Gilley said, “Get in the van., now.”
They all loaded in the van and sped towards the hospital, at the church compound. Honking as they approached the gates. Shouting, “Open up...hospital!” Michael came running up just as they pulled up to the newly created medical building. Gilley shouted, “Michael, get the vet. Jason has been bit.” They got Jason inside and into a room that had been created for exams. The nurse and the vet, came hurriedly into the building and down the long aisle to the small room.
Everyone's greatest fear was not of the wild dog packs, but of rabies. In their scavenging of rural clinics they had found some snake bite anti-venom and a small amount of rabies vaccine. The vet had even taken them to some veterinarian clinics and they had secured some more useful meds. It was well known, however, rabies is terminal if it is not immediately treated. And you would not want that treatment, unless you were exposed.
Jason sat on the table and stretched the leg out. The other three men and Michael stood around the edge of the room. The vet cut the bottom of the jeans away. The leather boot had some pretty deep gashes, but he could not tell if any went all the way through. The nurse pulled the boot off and a large hunting knife clanged to the tile floor. Near Jason's ankle bone, a half inch gouge oozed blood down his foot. There was a slight inhale from the observers. Gilley ruffled his hand through his light wavy hair and looked at the floor. The nurse started cleaning up the cut. The vet picked up the boot and ran his hand all along the inside rough leather, he didn't find a single bite or slice going through.
He reached down and picked up the knife. The serrated tip had blood on it. The vet held up the knife and was smiling from ear to ear. It took a minute for it to sink in on everyone. Everybody was laughing and slapping Jason on the back. “It was your own knife...no bites.”
It had been a very un-nerving experience. The dogs were a real danger and they all would have to be much more watchful of them. The two that ran away would be sick, soon. You just could not get complacent in this new After world.
***
It was early morning, Jack leaned up against the outer grocery market wall, watching for the lone man. He had an old thermos of hot coffee under his arm. Beth had dug around and found the thermos and filled it. She said, “If the guy wants to keep it, just give it to him.” There was a slight coolness in the air but it was not cold. He sipped on a plastic cup of the coffee. He didn't hear a sound, then he saw a faint shadow. He moved his hand to his .380. A camo clad man stepped out from the corner of the building. He and Jack sized each other up for a moment. Jack extended his hand, “Jack,” he said.
The man stepped forward and shook his hand, “Mac,” he said.
“Want a cup of coffee, Mac?” said Jack.
The man nodded yes.
They sat down at one of the weather beaten tables. Jack said, “Can you tell me about the gang? Where are they? How many?”
The man sipped the hot coffee and he closed his eyes a bit, “That's really good, thanks.” He said, “The group is over around that Cinema movie theater. I guess it is about two miles from your border, maybe a little farther. As I told your guys, I think there are maybe 75 men in the gang. Could be a few more or less. There are several women but I have seen no children. That's odd, isn't it?”
Jack said, “No children at all?”
“Not a one that I have spotted. I really don't want to contemplate the reason for that. Obviously, they don't want the trouble or want them to slow down their movements. I believe they keep just enough women to serve their needs, probably kill them when they are worn out. It is mostly men and they are vicious. They still have about four vehicles that are running, old trucks and one van.”
“What about their arms?” said Jack.
“They are very well armed. You need to know that. They just move along like an oily slime, they plunder and strip everything as they go. They have amassed more and more guns and ammunition, as they have moved through the city. If there are things of use, in houses or in stores, they absorb it. Of course, that means they have to keep moving and finding fresh supplies. Especially, since the military came through and cleaned out even more.”
The man looked out, at the barrier of cars. “Not a bad idea. It won't stop them but it will give you a place to make a stand.” He pushed the cup out, asking for more. “How many men do you have, Jack?”
Jack was a bit suspicious, would the guy play both ends against the middle? “We don't have 75, we've got a respectable number. And we've got some good skills with the weapons. I would like to have some more ammo.”
“Have you thought about creating some other types of weapons, like molotov cocktails? There are plenty of glass bottles in this store. I also know of a place that no one got into, there's some ammunition stores there.” said the man.
Relaxing a little, Jack smiled, “That's an idea.” He looked at the doors to the grocery market, “Mac, are you staying around here, close?”
The loner sipped his coffee and took a moment before he said, “It's pretty good shelter here. Big ole damn place. I even find a stray can of food, here and there.” He actually gave a slight grin, “Besides, you folks are building a pretty good stronghold.”
Jack got up and said, “Thanks, that is info that we really needed. Mac, when this comes, will you stand with us?”
The man stood and put out his hand, “Yeah, I am tired of skulking around and hiding from these scum bags. I will be here.”
Jack shook his hand, pushed the thermos towards him, “Keep it. We will be in touch.”
The information that Jack gathered from the loner, Mac, was passed along. All agreed that they needed to amass as much ammunition as possible. They would store the ammo and any extra guns they scavenged at the fire station. When it came time, they would load up the mini bus with the arms and ammo. Mac was still doing his re-con on the gang so they could track them. It was easy now to contact him. If you went to the market and stood for a
bit, he materialized.
The loner roamed around Unity, freely now. He was trusted. On occasion he would drop by the auto shop and hang around for a while. Jack had noticed him checking out the motorcycle that stood in the corner of the shop. They had never replaced the tire, other things had become more important. One day, when Mac was in the shop, Jack saw him once again looking at the motorcycle. He said, “Mac, did you ever ride a motorcycle?”
“Oh yeah, I used to ride a lot. My dad rode. I was on some kind of motorcycle from the time I was a boy.”
“Why don't you get that one running? You could do whatever you need, here in the shop,” said Jack.
The loner went over to the cycle. He squatted down and kept checking it over. Finally, he said, “Yeah, thanks.” A day later, he came in with a tire for the bike. Shortly, it was pop-pop-popping. He climbed on. With a backward wave he was moving away from the auto shop. Drifting out a bit at the corner exit of the neighborhood, he lowered his head and picked up speed for a brief sprint.
The rider and cycle rolled up the loading ramp behind the grocery market. He pushed up the wide door, entered and lowered it back down. Slinging his leg over the seat, he idled through the cluttered aisles of the store. Eventually, he eased up to the area of the store where he had homesteaded. He put down the stand, stood straddling the motorcycle and smiled.
There was a gas station right in front of the market. It was not far from their barricade of cars. Mac began to empty glass bottles, load them in a grocery basket and leave them outside of the doors of the store. Some of the women from the groups were making the molotov cocktails and storing them in the pay booth, at the station. They used the glass bottles from the store, any combustible fuel that they had. The women decided that a tampon with the string hanging out from the cork that sealed the bottle would be an excellent wick. This brought plenty of ribbing and laughter from the men. However, a test “cocktail” was lit and thrown out onto the open four lane. It exploded into a ball of fire. The laughter turned to slaps on the back. The molotov assembly line carried on and the booth was stocked with fiery bombs.
No Normal Day II (Unity) Page 8