Hidden (Final Dawn)

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Hidden (Final Dawn) Page 9

by Maloney, Darrell


  Hannah, of course, focused mainly on her husband. And his brother, but only out of curiosity. Sarah, conversely, admired her boyfriend Bryan’s glistening body. And also his brother Mark.

  Brad started out with his back to the girls. When he turned around, Hannah said to no one in particular, “Oh, my gosh! How is he even able to walk?”

  Sarah’s jaw simply dropped.

  Sami smiled and said, “Ladies, I think I’ve found the man of my dreams.”

  The men finished quickly, redressed, and hung around talking of football and the tunnel, and a dozen other things, while they waited for their hair to dry. Then they disappeared, headed back to the main part of the mine.

  The girls followed not far behind them. They giggled like little school girls caught up in a silly schoolyard conspiracy, swearing each other to secrecy.

  Hannah whispered, “We must never tell anyone of this.”

  Her friends agreed, almost as if they were ashamed of what they’d done.

  But they weren’t. After a few seconds all three of them erupted in laughter and gave each other a round of high fives.

  Chapter 17

  When dinner was served that night, Sarah and Hannah sat at their usual table, with Mark and Bryan at their sides. Normally Sami sat at the table next to theirs and joined in the conversation of the day.

  Tonight, though, Sami had asked Brad if she could join him at a table at the edge of the dining room. She caught the eyes of the other girls and winked, causing Sarah and Hannah to erupt in laughter.

  Bryan asked, “What’s so funny?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just an inside joke.”

  Sarah asked, “So, what’s new with you guys?”

  Bryan said, “Nothing new with me. Just another day in the salt mines.”

  Mark groaned at the bad joke.

  “I’m putting the finishing touches on Channel 22. I’m going to roll it out tomorrow.”

  “What’s gonna be on it?”

  “Can’t tell you. It’s a big surprise. I’ll announce it at the meeting in a little bit.”

  Hannah looked at Sarah and rolled her eyes.

  “That’s my husband. An international man of mystery.”

  Sarah giggled, and resisted the urge to remind Hannah that Mark no longer had any secrets.

  Twenty minutes later Mark stepped to the front of the dining room and cleared his throat.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention, please? I think everyone who hasn’t already finished eating is close to it, so I’d like to get our Tuesday meeting underway. As usual, those of you who are not eighteen and are therefore unable to debate or vote are free to go if you wish. But you’re also free to stay if you want.”

  “Old business first. Last week we announced that we were doing our annual food inventory. It’s completed, thanks to a lot of hard work by Sami and Sarah. Would one of you girls care to come up and tell everyone what the results were?”

  Sarah looked at Sami, who gave her a “go ahead” sign.

  Sarah stepped to the front beside Mark and began.

  “As Mark said, this inventory is performed once a year and is done just to keep an accurate track of what our food stores are and to make sure we’ll have enough to last until the breakout.

  “We decided to do something different this year and factor in the calorie counts of our Meals Ready to Eat, or MRE stocks. You might recall that was never done before, because we considered them a last ditch emergency type of provisions. This year, though, we went ahead and counted them, using the logic that they are food, whether they’re considered last ditch or not. And that therefore they should be counted.

  “We also included sixteen pallets of pasta, Ramen noodles and soups that David recently found in the back of Bay 21. It’s not lighted back there, and somehow these sixteen pallets got mixed in with all of the truck and vehicle parts that are stored there. David was back there poking around with a flashlight, stumbling around for a specific type of fuel filter, when he came across them.

  “After we’ve done all the math and crunched all the numbers, we have determined that we have enough additional food to last eight years and seven months.”

  Smiles went up around the room. Everyone knew where this was heading.

  Someone stood up and asked, “And according to our latest estimates, how long before we get out of here?”

  Hannah, who had been tracking outside temperature trends since the beginning, stood up and said, “Between three and five years.”

  The smiles went around again.

  Mark took back the floor.

  “I can tell by everyone’s faces that we’re all thinking the same thing. To keep things orderly, I’d like to do this in two different steps. If someone will make a motion to increase our daily calorie intake, we can discuss and vote. If that motion passes, we can start debating how much.”

  Someone in the back of the room stood up and said, “I’d like to make a motion to increase our daily calories.”

  No less than five other people shouted almost simultaneously, “Second!”

  “Very well. All in favor of increasing our daily calorie intake, raise your hands.”

  Every adult’s hand in the room went up.

  Mark chuckled and said, “Well, that was easy. The motion carries. We will increase the calorie count. Who would like to suggest an amount for the increase?”

  Mark’s Uncle Marty said, “How about two hundred calories a day?”

  Joe Kenny was a bit more conservative. “How about a hundred? I mean, we’re already used to what we’re getting now. If we increase it too much, we might have to cut back again next year. I think it would be smarter to do it in incremental steps.”

  Several heads around the room nodded in agreement.

  Mark said, “Okay, we have a suggestion of two hundred additional calories per day and another suggestion of one hundred per day. Are there any other numbers anyone wants us to consider?”

  There were none.

  “Very well, we’ll put it to a vote. All in favor of two hundred additional calories per day, please raise your hands.”

  Mark’s mother Phyllis was the official vote counter.

  She announced “Twelve.”

  “Very well. All those in favor of one hundred additional calories per day?”

  Again, hands went up. Phyllis’ head bobbed slightly as she looked around and tallied the hands.

  “Seventeen.”

  “Very well, the motion carries. Effective tomorrow, the kitchen will start giving us an additional one hundred calories a day.”

  Phyllis, who was also in charge of the kitchen, said, “Looks like we’ll be baking a couple of trays of cookies tomorrow,” generating cheers across the room.

  Mark went on.

  “Okay, back to old business. Last week we discussed our plans for the tunnel we’re digging in the back of the mine, to connect with our compound next door. We just wanted to give you a status update. Bryan, would you do the honors?”

  “Sure,” Bryan said and walked up to the front.

  “We hit the two hundred yard mark this afternoon. That means we have a little over a hundred yards to go. It should take another five months or so, and then we will seal it until the breakout. Before we seal it, though, we will give a tour to anyone who wants to see it. In fact, we’ll have the capability to actually go through the tunnel and into the compound for those who are interested in checking the compound out. Right now it’s covered in three feet of snow, so there’s not much to see. But at least anyone who is interested can get some fresh air and play in the snow for a bit.”

  Bryan returned to his seat next to Sarah and Mark continued.

  “Last week I told all of you that we’d be adding a new channel to our closed circuit TV station. I didn’t tell anybody what it was last week because I wanted to wait until I finished transferring all the Dallas Cowboys games onto digital files.

  “For those of you who didn’t know, I was able to purchase copies of eve
ry single Cowboys game ever played, dating back to their first game in 1960. Most of them were on reel to reel tape or on sixteen millimeter film, and transferring them to digital took a lot of time.

  “But now it’s done, so tomorrow we’re rolling out Channel 22, the Cowboy Channel.

  “Weekdays it’ll be everything cowboy. Old television shows like Gunsmoke and Rawhide during the day. Every evening there will be either a John Wayne or Clint Eastwood movie. All day Saturday it’ll be shows from the old days. Roy Rogers and Hopalong Cassidy and such.

  “And on Sundays,” he beamed, “we will broadcast every Dallas Cowboys game ever played, in order. Four games every Sunday, back to back, with a brief intermission between each game. You’ll get to see Tom Landry pacing the sidelines in his fedora. Roger Staubach, Bullet Bob Hayes, Dandy Don Meredith, and every other Cowboy who ever played the game.

  “And it’ll be that way every Sunday until we break out of here.”

  Every one of the men in the crowd smiled broadly. Except for David, who grew up a yankee. He’d take a lot of crap every time Dallas played the Giants. But he’d take it in stride.

  “Okay, that’s all the old business, unless I forgot something and someone can refresh my memory.”

  Mark looked around the room. Nothing.

  “Good. Does anyone have any new business?”

  Again, silence.

  “Very well, then. I guess the meeting is adjourned. Thanks for staying behind and participating.”

  Mark went back to his table to find Hannah and Sarah watching intently as Sami and Brad left together.

  Sarah said to Hannah, “I’ll bet you a nickel she walks funny tomorrow and has a big smile on her face.”

  Mark was lost. He asked, “Who? Why?”

  Hannah giggled.

  “Never you mind.”

  Chapter 18

  Joe Smith and Jesse Martinez knocked on Frank Woodard’s front door just before sunset. Frank welcomed them into his home, lifting up a heavy plastic tarp separating the entryway from the living room to let them through.

  Most of the other rooms, the ones not being used, had been sealed off. Frank and Eva pretty much lived in the living room now. That’s where their fireplace was, and it was the only warm room in the house.

  Frank had dragged a queen sized mattress in from the guest room months before. During the day, it was lifted up and leaned against the east wall of the room. At night, Frank moved the two recliners out of the way and laid it in the middle of the floor.

  The couple went to bed each night snuggling under six blankets and comforters, watching the fire crack and pop in the fireplace in front of them.

  Under other circumstances, such a cozy sleeping arrangement might be romantic. Here, though, in the midst of the great freeze, it was just a necessity for continued survival.

  “Hello, Eva. How have you been?”

  “I’ve been fine, Jesse. Joe. How are the families?”

  “Fine. Tired. Tired of being cold, tired of being hungry. You know how it is.”

  “Yes.”

  “Julie wants to get the wives together. She wants to see if anybody would be interested in moving in together. Putting everyone together in a couple of houses, and then knocking holes in the walls and building a plywood walkway between the houses. She wanted to see if the other wives thought it might help the weaker ones of the group.”

  Eva looked at Frank, and her eyebrows went up.

  “I never thought of doing that, but I’d be willing to consider it. Tell Julie to let me know when she wants to get together, and I’ll be there.”

  Frank changed the subject to the purpose for the night’s meeting.

  “Any activity over at Symco?”

  “No, Frank. None at all. We’ve been watching it day and night now for over a month. There are never any lights during the night time. Never any smoke during the day. No vehicle activity day or night.

  “The blanket of snow in the parking lots is undisturbed. Same for the snow on the access road. There hasn’t been any vehicle traffic there in months.”

  Frank scratched his head.

  “Okay. I’m convinced. If there was somebody there, we’d have had a sign by now. Now the only question is, do they have anything we can use?”

  Symco Food Service was a commercial food distribution center. When the earth was warm and active, it delivered wholesale foods of every type and brand to restaurants, gas stations and mom and pop grocers. It didn’t sell food by the case. It sold food by the pallet, or by the truckload. And by Frank’s reasoning, the big Symco warehouse, standing apparently unoccupied, probably still had food on its shelves. At least everyone assembled in this room, and their families, hoped so.

  Frank said, “I’ve got two old military duffle bags. They have straps on the back so they can be carried like a backpack. And they’ll hold a hell of a lot of stuff. I’ll carry one if one of you can carry the other.”

  Joe added, “I’ll carry it.”

  Jesse said, “I’ve got a black backpack I used to travel with, back in the days when I had a job and airplanes flew. It’s good sized. I’ll bring it.”

  “The hardest part of getting there is going to be clearing a path in that damn snow.”

  “Yes, but if we find food and supplies, we can go back several times. And the path we make will get a little easier to travel each time.”

  “When do you want to go?”

  “How about first thing in the morning,” Jesse suggested. “My boys know how to shoot, and they’ve got good heads on their shoulders. They’ll keep an eye on things while we’re gone.”

  “Joe, your house is closest to Symco. How about we meet up at your house at daybreak and leave out your back gate?”

  “Sounds like a plan. See you then.”

  Joe and Jesse said good night to Eva and walked toward the door. Eva called behind them, “Have Julie let me know when she gets the wives together. I’d like to be there.”

  Eva turned to Frank.

  “Do you really think there might be food in that building?”

  “I honestly don’t know, honey. There used to be. And a lot of it. Whether or not they emptied it out before the meteorite hit is anybody’s guess. But I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

  “I’ll pray you find some food, Frank. We’re getting desperately low.”

  “I know, dear. You pray, and so will I. If this doesn’t work out, I have no plan B.”

  Frank awoke the next morning long before dawn. With no electricity, and with the muddy brown sky obliterating the stars, it was impossible to tell how many hours before the pitiful sun broke across the horizon. But the light of the fire, burning in the fireplace, provided enough light to enable him to watch his beloved Eva sleep.

  He felt bad for her. When they’d married so long ago he made her a promise. He’d said, “I’m not the richest man in the world, nor the most handsome. I cannot promise you everything. But I will promise you that I will love you until my last breath, and will provide for you and protect you the best I can.”

  He’d always kept that promise. And until the world froze over, he’d never had to worry about her. Now he did.

  If the men were ambushed the next day by others, who’d claimed Symco for themselves, there was a chance Frank might not return. He worried about what might happen to Eva. Would she be strong enough to survive without him?

  Then he shook his head. No. He mustn’t think of such things. He had to return. She needed him. He vowed to be careful. And to back off at the first sign of trouble. As much as he hated the thought of coming back from Symco empty handed, he owed it to Eva, and the other men owed it to their wives, to come back alive.

  He boiled a pot of coffee on the fire and poured himself a cup. He took the pot off the fire and placed it off to the side. Not directly in the heat, but close enough to keep the coffee hot. He knew that Eva would want a hot cup when she woke up.

  While drinking his coffee and listening to Eva breathe, Frank loo
ked out the window to the east. In the distance, through the muddy sky, he saw a small yellow marble rise over the horizon. The sun. It was time to go.

  He picked up the two olive drab duffle bags he’d placed next to the door the night before. Then he took one last look at Eva, softly blew her a kiss she’d never see, and tromped out into the snow.

  At Joe’s house, the trio checked their weapons to make sure they were locked and loaded, and headed out into the white abyss. It was slow going through the heavy snow. They had to stop frequently to rest. Their feet began to freeze, and their bodies began to ache.

  Symco was no more than two hundred yards from Joe’s back door. Before the freeze, it was an easy four minute walk.

  But now, everything was different. They could tell by the time they got to the massive Symco building that it was almost noon. The little yellow marble that was the earth’s sun was high in the sky by then. All of them dreaded the trip back.

  There was no sign of movement at Symco. No signs of life.

  “Let’s walk around the building, and see if we can find any open doors.”

  They had brought a pair of bolt cutters and a crow bar in the event they had to break in. But with frozen fingers and a desire to get inside, and out of the damn snow, none of them wanted to spend another half hour outside if there was an unlocked door to allow them entry.

  But no. They traversed the entire outside of the building, to find that every single door was secured with a shiny new hasp, and a high security padlock.

  Every door was also marked with a sign.

  “WARNING! Armed guards inside. Intruders will be fired upon.”

  Now they knew why none of the doors had been broken into. It made the group pause and think.

  “That’s actually a good thing,” Frank said. “It means that whatever food that was in there when the world went cold is still there.”

  “But what about the armed guards inside protecting it?”

  “Oh, bullshit. There are no armed guards. If there were, there would be smoke coming from the building. With no electric power, they’d have to build a fire to keep warm. And there would be vehicle tracks from when they brought new guards in and out every day. The sign is just a bogus attempt to keep people away.”

 

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