Todd scanned what he had been handed. He let out a loud whoop, and exclaimed, “Mr. Olivera, you’ve just made me the happiest man in the world. Come up to the house for some lunch.”
Without the caution normally shown to strangers, Manny Olivera’s motorcycle was wheeled in the gate. “Aren’t you going to ride up?” Lisa asked.
“No ma’am. Gas is precious stuff. I’d rather walk up. Will my bike be all right here?”
Lisa replied, “Sure it will. We’ve got security you haven’t even seen yet. Those hills have eyes.”
When the four reached the house, Todd called for everyone available to come to the living room. Todd held up the soiled envelope. “I’ve got a letter here that you’ll all be interested in. Its return address reads, ‘The Laytons. Care of Prines’ Farm. 1585 County Road 20. Morgan City, Utah.’” A loud cheer went up and lasted for nearly half a minute. For the assembled group, Todd read the letter aloud. For the benefit of Lon Porter, who was up at the LP/OP, Todd wore his TRC-500 set to the VOX position. He began, “The letter is dated the twentieth of June of this year, pretty speedy, considering it came via pony express. Anyway, it reads:
Dear Todd, Mary, and Whoever Else Arrived;
Terry and I are writing to let you know that we are safe and living temporarily at a farm three miles north of Morgan City, Utah. (25 miles northeast of Salt Lake City, see enclosed strip map.) We walked most of the way here from Chicago. We had planned to stay here only a week to rest up and then press on to the retreat, but Terry took a bad spill off of a ladder, breaking her kneecap. That was nearly two months ago. I’m afraid that the break is not healing properly. I don’t believe that there is any way that we will be able to continue on, at least not on foot.
We hope that all is well with you. This is the third letter that we couriered up your way. If you got either of the previous ones, I apologize for the redundancy.
However, we figured that sending multiple letters by different couriers would be the best bet in getting our message through to you.
We are staying in a spare bedroom at the Prines’ farm. They are wonderful people. Like most of their neighbors, they are Mormons, and thus were relatively well prepared for the collapse. To earn our keep I am being employed as a night security guard on the farm. I also help out with the heavy work during the day (mending fences, splitting wood, etc.). Terry is still confined to bed most of the time.
Because of Terry’s injury, the Prines have agreed to let us stay on as long as we’d like, but we don’t want to wear out our welcome and their stock of supplies. (Mrs. Prine’s sister and brother-in-law and their two teenage boys moved in three weeks ago, and the stored food supply will soon be critical.) Is there any way that you could provide transportation to the retreat? I realize that this is asking a lot, and would involve considerable risk, so feel free to say no.
To avoid missing you, we promise that we will stay here until we either hear from you or somebody shows up. Please send word via courier or by radio, if you get a chance. Do you have the night-time CB voice message relay network set up, up there?
Well, that’s all for now. Once again, we hope that all is well with you.
God Bless you all.
Ken and Terry.
Over lunch, Manny Olivera told of conditions in southern Idaho. He reported that some towns, including Caldwell, were left virtually untouched by the chaos. Others, including Idaho Falls and Boise, were devastated. He related,
“Half of Boise burned down in a three-day period, just house after house. There were only two fire trucks available at the time because the money wasn’t worth anything, and nearly all the city employees decided to stay home. The few firemen that did show up to try and fight the fire were kept pinned down by sporadic gunfire. My brother was there and saw it happen, and he told me all about it. It was pathetic.”
Following lunch, Todd offered Manny some silver coins for delivering the letter. He refused the offer. Todd then asked, “Is there anything else that we can do for you aside from just feeding you lunch? It doesn’t seem like much, considering that you came seventy-five miles out of your way to deliver this letter.”
After a pause, Manny said, “I could use some gasoline, sir.”
Without hesitating, Todd said, “Go start up your hog, and ride up to the back end of the garage. It’s the Quonset hut building. We’ll fill up your bike’s tank and top off both jerry cans.”
Olivera cocked his head and asked, “Is it good gas? A lot of people have had problems with their gas going bad in the last year or so.”
“Don’t worry. We added Sta-Bil stabilizer. It should be fine for at least two more years.”
“I hear that they’ve started making ethanol—you know, corn gas—back in Iowa and Kansas. Won’t work in all engines though.”
Olivera soon filled his Harley’s tank and two five-gallon cans. Dan Fong approached Manny and pressed a box of nine-millimeter hollow points into his hands. “Dude, I think that you’re going to need these more than I will,”
Fong said earnestly.
Olivera smiled at Dan and replied, “Muchas gracias.” He stuffed the box of ammunition into one of the pockets of his field jacket and shook hands with everyone and thanked them once again. After T.K. ushered him through the gate and he rode off with a wave, Todd called for another meeting. Della replaced Lon at the LP/OP.
As the meeting progressed, it became clear that some of the members were enthusiastic for an expedition to go get Ken and Terry, while others, including Lon Porter and Lisa Nelson, urged caution. Lon was blunt. “We know pretty well what conditions are like in our immediate area, but anything over twenty miles away could just as well be the Antarctic for all that we know about it.
There could be whole areas controlled by brigands. They could have roadblocks set up. Anyone traveling cross-country could run into people infected with diseases like cholera. I say that the risks outweigh the rewards.”
After debate at length, it was decided that the group owed Ken and Terry enough that they had to make some effort at bringing them back to the retreat. It was T.K. who settled the issue. He said resoundingly, “I recall a quote from a man named Saganelian: ‘Every risk has its compensation.’ I’m willing to take nearly any risk to make us whole again. It’s what we’ve pledged ourselves to from the very beginning. Granted, they’re safe enough where they are, but they are taking advantage of the good graces of the Prines. The letter specifically noted that the family is getting low on food. Further, I don’t believe in saying ‘tough luck,’ and I don’t believe in ‘no-win scenarios.’We’ve simply got to undertake this mission. It should take three individuals, a four-wheel drive rig, and twelve or more cans of gas to do the job. Ideally, I think we should mainly consider the bachelors. That’s why I’m nominating myself first.”
Without a pause, Kevin, Dan, and Doug chimed in, “I’ll go,” almost simultaneously.
A moment later, Jeff Trasel declared, “Well, count me in, too.”
Todd looked toward Carlton quizzically and asked, “What’s your interest, Doug?You’ve never even met the Laytons.”
Carlton replied, “Well, they’re members, aren’t they? We’ve been eating part of their stored food, haven’t we? It was Ken that did the restoration on most of the rigs here. We wouldn’t have reliable transportation if it weren’t for him. It was Terry Layton that ram-rodded all the logistics. And she didn’t overlook much, did she? We wouldn’t have a deep larder if it weren’t for her. The way I see it, I owe them plenty.”
The debate over who should go centered on both the tactical skills of those who had volunteered, and how the militia could get along without them if they did not make it back. Unspoken, but doubtless in the minds of everyone present, was the aspect of marriage. In the end, T.K., Dan, and Kevin were selected from among the volunteers. To Todd, realizing that all three of them were bachelors, the words “they were expendable” came to mind. He knew that the three men didn’t take offense though. Like so many de
cisions at the retreat, it reflected cold, hard logic. Husbands had the Christian duty to care for their wives. Bachelors were the logical choice for the risky mission.
The preparations for the trip took four days. First, T.K.’s Bronco was chosen as the vehicle to use. T.K. swapped batteries with Todd’s Power Wagon. Because Todd’s truck had been run more often, its battery had a better charge.
The Bronco’s gas tanks were drained into cans, and then refilled from the large storage tank behind the garage.
• • •
If Mary had her way, the Grays would have replaced their garage/shop building soon after they bought the retreat. Todd described it as “ugly as sin, but eminently practical.” Mary referred to it as “just plain ugly.” As best as Todd could tell, the building was an original World War II surplus galvanized steel Quonset hut. It sat on a concrete slab foundation, and had a pair of sliding doors at each end. Todd liked it because, like the house, it was essentially fire-proof. The only changes that Todd made to the building initially were welding bars over the side windows and adding lock hasps to the doors.
Because security of the garage was not considered as critical as that of the house, Todd did not overengineer the window bars. He made them out of standard concrete reinforcing bar stock, commonly called “rebar.” Although the bars were made of mild steel, they would suffice in keeping out all but the most determined burglars. After mounting the hasps, Todd ordered a set of twelve “keyed-alike” one-and-three-quarters-inch Master brand padlocks from Grainger Supply. With keyed-alike locks, one key could open any padlock at the retreat, eliminating any confusion about keys. Todd eventually mounted hasps on the inside of the wood chute and each of the outbuildings.
Another one of the keyed-alike locks was mounted on the front gate at the county road.
The garage was the site of what eventually turned out to be the most expensive of the Grays’ “upgrades” before the Crunch—fuel storage. After requesting bids from several contractors, Todd and Mary selected a firm from Lewiston to build their underground fuel storage tanks. They opted for two tanks, each with a thousand-gallon capacity. One was for unleaded premium fuel while the other was for diesel for their tractor.
Luckily, the crew that installed the tanks didn’t ask a lot of questions. The norm in the region was for aboveground tanks between three hundred and five-hundred gallon capacity. Todd mentioned to the work crew that the extra capacity would enable him to wait for fuel prices to drop to reasonable levels rather than having to buy fuel once a year at whatever the price happened to be. He also noted that he wanted underground tanks because he was “scared to death” of forest fires.
Todd and Mary hoped that their fuel tanks would not create suspicion. They felt that if they had bought tanks of any greater capacity, they would indeed set Bovill’s “rumor control” network into motion.
Because the tanks were positioned on the far side of the garage/shop building, they were out of the line of sight from the house. This bothered Todd. He decided that the best way to confront this problem was to mount the ends of the filler pipes and the hand pumps for the tanks inside the garage.
This meant that Todd had to cut a three-foot-long trench through the concrete floor of the garage. Kevin helped him do the work. It took an entire afternoon and damaged one of Todd’s picks, but the job was finally done.
Again with Kevin’s help, Todd built a set of false wall cabinets out of plywood over the hand pumps. It too was fitted with a hasp and padlock. Because the pumps were hidden, there was no outward sign that the Grays even had fuel storage tanks. Kevin really liked the idea of the false cabinet. When Todd first mentioned it, Kevin grinned and said, “Neat trick, Todd.”
• • •
The preparations for the trip continued for several days. Lon gave the Bronco a tune-up and idled the engine for an hour. He then did a complete inspection of the seals, belts, and hoses. Next, the Bronco’s roof was unbolted and removed. Then the windshield was latched down to the hard point on the hood, and it was recovered with burlap secured by duct tape. Kennedy considered removing the doors, but decided that the ballistic protection that they provided, however slight, outweighed the advantage of being able to get out of the rig quickly.
Doug pointed out the fact that folding down the windshield to give them the ability to shoot on the move would also put them at risk. “All it would take is some joker with a roll of thin steel wire, and you might all end up looking like proverbial headless horsemen. I think we ought to install a cable cutter like I’ve seen on some Army jeeps.”
Using Todd’s welding rig, Lon and Dan soon fabricated a cable cutter on the front of the Bronco. It consisted of a vertical piece of steel bolted to the center of the front bumper that extended above the height of the roll cage. It had a notch cut at the spot where the vertical member angled outward near the top. The vertical piece was held by two cross braces that angled up from near the ends of the bumper. Todd didn’t have enough steel stock of the correct dimension available with which to build the cable cutter, so they used steel fence T-posts, as they were about the right weight and length.
Over the next two days, the three men packed and repacked their gear, loaded extra magazines, and pored over road maps, considering every possible route, bivouac point, and rally point. All three were equipped with bulletproof vests to wear under their fatigues. Since there were only five such vests at the retreat (they belonged to the Grays, the Nelsons, and T.K.), they seemed like badges of honor. They also wore three of the six Kevlar “Fritz” helmets at the retreat. Next they test fired and confirmed the zero of their weapons. T.K. planned to carry his heavy barrel AR-15. Kevin opted to bring both his HK91 and his Remington 870. Dan decided to do likewise. All three also carried .45 automatics in Bianchi UM-series hip holsters.
They decided to also bring along Dan’s monstrous McMillan sniper rifle and a hundred rounds of .50 Browning ammunition— a mixture of ball, tracer, incendiary and hand-loaded match-grade rounds. Fong also dug out his precious twenty rounds of special sabot ammunition. The sabot ammo, an exotic type of ammunition that had cost him twenty dollars per cartridge, fired the Winchester Saboted Light Armor Projectile (SLAP). The SLAP cartridges had a .30 caliber bullet encased in a sleeve of plastic. They were designed so that after the bullet exited the rifle’s bore, the plastic sabot would peel back, sending the smaller bullet whizzing ahead with tremendous velocity. With such high velocity, the SLAP bullets were reportedly able to penetrate an inch-and-a-half of plate steel, or two-and-a-half inches of aluminum armor. When asked about the need for the rifle by Mike Nelson, Dan said in a singsong, “It’s just in case we have to ‘reach out, reach out and touch someone.’”
With a laugh, T.K. added, “‘Long Distance, it’s the next best thing to being there.’”
The Bronco was packed with twelve five-gallon gas cans, all freshly filled from the storage tank. Four of them went on the tire and gas can rack that T.K. had mail-ordered from K-Bar-S in Las Vegas before the Crunch. It originally held just two cans, but using some loops of heavy gauge wire they doubled up the cans so the rack would hold four. They also stowed an ax, a shovel, two two-thousand-pound capacity “come along” ratchet cable hoists, two forty-eight-inch Hi-Lift “sheepherder’s” jacks, a set of chains for all four wheels, Todd’s pair of Woodings-Verona thirty-six-inch bolt cutters, a general mechanical and electrical tool kit, a can of ether-based starting fluid, spare hoses and belts, a spare fuel pump, a spare water pump and gasket, a spare thermostat, a spare starter, and a spare alternator. When packing these spares, Todd silently thanked Ken Layton for insisting on everyone buying vehicles with common parts.
The load also included four five-gallon plastic buckets containing wheat, rice, dried beans, and powdered milk, as a gift for the Prine family. On top of the roll cage, they strapped a rolled up Army “hex” camouflage net. Lon and Dan also welded on a mounting bracket for an extra tire on the side of the roll cage, giving them two spares. The extra spare
was “liberated” from the spare carried on the Nelsons’ Bronco. When the three mens’ backpacks were added, it made an impressive load. T.K. asked, “Now where are Ken and Terry going to sit on the return trip?”
Dan replied, “Oh maaan. I hadn’t thought about that. It looks like a Mister Prine of Morgan City, Utah, is going to get the gift of some five-gallon gas cans as well as the food we were planning to give them.”
Tom, Kevin, and Dan spent the next day practicing three-man patrolling techniques, immediate action drills, and the like. Time after time, there were shouts of, “action left!” or “action front!” and the Bronco would either be violently maneuvered into turns, or back up suddenly, or come to a stop with the three men spilling out, guns at the ready. The three also shot up twenty-three rounds of .50 Browning. T.K. proved that the McMillan was an accurate long-range rifle. He scored regular hits on a man-sized target that was paced off at twelve hundred yards.
When T.K., Kevin, and Dan were ready to go, there were many prayers and a sad farewell, as everyone realized that the chances of their safe return were completely unknown. T.K. read the 54th Psalm. Mary and Lisa cried. As they roared out the front gate though, the three men were laughing and joking. To them it seemed a grand adventure. Dan, who was at the wheel, started singing his favorite song, “Bad Moon Rising” by Creedence Clearwater Revival. With his now longish hair blowing in the slipstream, he sang at the top of his lungs,
“Hope you got your things together, Hope you are quite prepared to die, Looks like we’re in for nasty weather, One eye is taken for an eye….”
CHAPTER 18
Chasseurs
“Ride with an idle whip,
Ride with an unused heel.
But once in a way,
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