“Now a special event. Doron and Ashley’s wedding!” David announced.
Karen watched but did not see, or hear, as her mind raced back to her wedding.
120.
David’s mind ran the training film checklist over and over. He could not sleep. He quietly left Karen, and sat against the hangar looking at the DC-3 in the moonlight. Zeke walked up and neither said anything. David remembered that night in the sewer tunnel when he and Zeke talked about going to find Le Shawn and Monique. It seemed so long ago.
“What’s with the binoculars?” Zeke asked.
“We are going to fly more than 5,000 feet above ground level, but we are not bullet proof. If you see someone shooting at us, let me know,” David explained.
“You know I get airsick. Bad.” Zeke continued.
“That’s why you stay out of the cockpit until everything is up and out,” David laughed.
“We will do fine,” David said, resisting the overwhelming impulse to climb onboard the DC3.
“Please God, don’t let me foul up with passengers on board,” he prayed when Zeke left.
Diary of Liu Nguyen
A sleepless night, the sun will soon rise.
Tomorrow I fly with the Nuclear War Club to Alabama in a DC-3, a rebuilt propeller plane from WW2. It will be flown by two self taught 17 year old high school students; David Phelps, and Doron Cohen, who never had a flight lesson, much less a pilot’s license.
A plane too old, flown by pilots too young. But they are very smart and they read all the flight manuals. I watched them survive take off and landings ten times.
We will follow the Interstate to Alabama, so we can crash land on the road if the engines blow up.
It’s dangerous and we may not make it.
Everyone realizes the risk. It’s quiet and somber in the camp. I could hear all night that I am not the only one unable to sleep.
But I embrace the risk knowingly, voluntarily.
We have few other options.
Each firefight brings home the harsh reality death can come at any minute with an ambush. Every day has been a gift, after the attack. A present millions of Americans never received.
We survived, we adapted, we overcame. Not bad for a high school class in detention. I would have been dead long ago without the Nuclear War Club. Looking back, the best thing David Phelps did as our leader was make it clear we could and would survive. Then he recognized, nurtured, and encouraged the best talents and abilities from each of us. He made us a team, and instilled and demanded group moral values. I now realize how easy it would have been for this group to have embraced the darkness.
These are good people, especially my best friend, Mrs. Karen Wilson Phelps, and my nephew, Samuel Phelps.
And Sarah, the child who never had a chance, but who enriched my life.
I am leaving my diary here because I have no husband, no children, no one to notify if we die on the plane. I want us to be remembered.
Here is the list of the Nuclear War Club members who will fly on the plane this morning:
David Phelps, Pilot in Command, Combat Commander
Doron Cohen, Co –pilot. He is an incredible genius, his inventions and adaptations including Doron’s Deathmaster have save our lives repeatedly.
Zeke Brown-Our best combat warfighter
Ashley Kensington Cohen (wife of Doron Cohen, I don’t actually know if she is using his last name. They just got married)
Mike O’Hara and Chloe O’Hara (married, older couple who were rescued by Karen, Zeke, and Doron enroute)
Brad O’Hara, son of Mike and Chloe
Cheryl O’Hara, daughter of Mike and Chloe
Samuel Phelps (adopted son of David and Karen Phelps, and my adopted nephew)
Karen Wilson Phelps (wife of David Phelps) Our best Sniper. Unbelievably skilled.
K-Bar (Karen Phelps’s combat dog, and our beloved group therapy pet)
Liu Nguyen (signed)
121.
The weather was perfect, not a cloud in the sky. A slight steady wind blew straight down the runway. Doron sat in the co-pilot seat while Zeke helped each passenger board. David stowed their duffle bags and backpacks, checking their weight, keeping a running total o his clipboard.
David motioned to Zeke, who climbed up into the plane. Then David removed the wheel chocks, and checked again around the plane for any debris, and scanned the runway with his binoculars. He then climbed onboard, and shut the door.
“Start engines,” David said to Doron. This was the plan to minimize time on the ground. Doron had told him they were most vulnerable when everyone was in the plane before takeoff with no ground security.
Both propellers started to turn, then quickly sped up with a reassuring hum.
As David walked to the cockpit, he could sense absolute terror among the passengers. It was dead quiet. Everyone avoided eye contact. Many had been crying, their eyes were red. Chloe hugged her kids. Mike’s hands shook, as he looked out the window with his binoculars. K-Bar seemed to sense the fear, he crouched low by Samuel, ears up, alert.
Karen alone smiled, facing him. He could tell she was faking it to help him feel better, because her eyes were not smiling.
He tried to act and move confidently, counting the passengers again to confirm that everyone was onboard. Then he marked that on his checklist. Dad always told him a commander makes sure he never leaves anyone behind.
“Engine warm up complete,” David said, with the cockpit door open so the passengers could hear. Maybe that would calm them down, give them confidence, he hoped.
Doron read the preflight checklist, and David confirmed each item.
David moved the throttles forward, released the brakes, and the DC-3 quickly became airborne.
David was stunned by the noise from the cabin. The passengers erupted, crying and clapping with delight and relief at takeoff. He realized they had very low expectations for him. If they did not die in a fireball, they would think he was the greatest pilot ever.
David climbed to 9,000 feet indicated, about 5,000 feet above ground level as the passengers quieted down. He set the trim for level flight following I-25 south.
Soon they passed Pueblo, and were in New Mexico. David wanted to head directly south to I-40 east, instead of tracking out of their way to I-25 west to Albuquerque. But Doron shut the cockpit door and told him, “David the passengers are a little anxious. If they can’t see the Interstate out their window, they will go nuts. Follow the Interstate, that’s the plan.”
Psychologically, David realized that the passengers could more readily adapt to this as just a normal road trip at 5,000 feet in a large SUV, as long as he followed the Interstate.
At Albuquerque they picked up I-40 east and soon entered Texas airspace.
“DC-3 this is the Texas National Guard, state your intentions,” the radio blared.
Doron had tuned the radio to the emergency channel, David could see two intercept jets.
“We are VFR following I-40 east, heading to Alabama,” Doron quickly answered.
“Are you claiming Texas sanctuary as Americans?”
“No, we are going to Alabama,” Doron said.
There was a long pause.
“Did you say you were following I-40 east?”
“Yes, we are student pilots, not good at navigation,” Doron replied.
Another long pause.
Doron could see one pilot waving at the passenger windows behind the cockpit.
“DC-3, this is the Texas National Guard, you will soon be out of Texas airspace. Stay on the north side, that is the left side, of I-40 until you reach Oklahoma. We will monitor and confirm your exit out of Texas airspace.”
“Roger that,” said Doron.
“Do not , repeat do not, try to land in Texas or change your altitude, or heading without advising us first.”
“Understood,” Doron replied.
The jets peeled off to the left and right, then climbed swiftly. They stayed with them
until they reached Oklahoma.
“Good move with the radios,” David said.
“Good old analog emergency radio,” Doron replied.
122.
The steady drone of the two engines quickly lulled Samuel to sleep, and no one talked as they climbed to 8,000 feet, following I-40 East.
They crossed the Mississippi River at Memphis, then the Tennessee River. David elected not to follow I-40 to Nashville, which had been nuked heavily and was identifiable only by the Interstates entering and leaving in five spokes around the city. He cut south and followed the Tennessee River to I-65 South at Decatur. He now had more credibility with the passengers who were not alarmed when they saw the Interstate disappear from view.
“We are close now,” Doron explained to the passengers. “We are going to land in the William Bankhead National Forest. There is no airport, we are going to land on the highway.”
“We will go in low and slow scouting for a landing strip. Look for power or phone poles, or any wires crossing the highway,” Doron explained. “We need binoculars looking for anything in the road.”
David made S turns across Highway 278 and found a straight stretch of about two miles suitable for landing. No power poles or telephone poles were in sight, and no abandoned cars were on the road. David looked at Doron, who signaled thumbs up. He entered the normal left hand traffic pattern, lowered the flaps, and Doron lowered the landing gear on the downwind leg.
The approach seemed much, much, faster than usual because the road was not as wide as the airport , but the airspeed was, in fact, the same.
The landing was David’s best yet. Doron smiled at him and said, “Great landing.”
David silently thanked God he did for foul it all up with passengers on board.
123.
“I am sure this is the creek,” David said.
“This is great!” said Doron excitedly. “These are deep rock springs, far more water than we need. The creek is muddy three hundred yards away. Unless someone knows there is a spring, the creek will not lead them here.”
Everyone took off their backpacks, and set up the tents. Mike started the campfire as the sun set.
“The best plan would be to set the center of the settlement at these springs, with our houses nearby, surrounded by a fence. Each person gets a slice of land projecting out from the center point, like a piece of pie, to grow crops,” Doron explained, drawing a diagram the clay.
“All governments formed initially for the self-defense of the tribe,” he said, lost in thought.
“I wonder if this same thing is happening all over America?” Doron asked.
“Do we really need separate land?” asked Mike. “We have done alright sharing everything as a group until we arrived here.”
“Absolutely, we need separate land,” said Doron. “People will specialize in needed skills, but everyone must grow their own food supply.”
“And the family has tested as the superior social structure for economic, physical, and emotional growth throughout all recorded history,” Doron added.
“Socialism never works, it almost wiped out the Pilgrims until they set aside separate food plots,” Doron said.
“It’s like Moses leading the Israelites,” Liu said. Everyone paused. Liu didn’t talk much, and when she did, everyone listened carefully.
“Last night I read in the hotel Gideon’s Bible, Karen’s marriage Bible” Liu explained.
“God provided manna, a food, to the Israelites until they reached Israel. Then, when they reached Israel, the manna stopped, and they ate what the land produced,” Liu said.
“Good point,” said Doron. “We are in a race to grow and sustain food before current supplies decay. It will be an interesting challenge.”
“What challenges?” David asked.
“No matter how much canned food, rice, and beans we have, it will eventually run out, degrade, or get spoiled. There is no substitute for fresh crops,” Doron said.
“Something else?” David pressed.
“Just conjecture,” said Doron, pausing.
“British sailors got scurvy from a lack of vitamin C, until they stated storing limes, hence the term “limey”. Shackleford and other artic explorers also were at scurvy risk until they noticed fresh seal meat seemed to reduce the problem. It’s easy in retrospect to say lack of vitamin C is the cause, but we have no idea what are the long term effects of not having fresh fruits and vegetables,” Doron said.
“What new vitamin C are we going to be missing, and what will be the effects?” Doron asked.
“A Rumsfeldian unknown, unknown,” Liu said.
Doron wondered if he had told them too much. He always had to remember they just weren’t as bright as he was. In fact, he realized he was very likely he was now the smartest person on earth. And these simple people, functioning at a more primitive intellectual level, tended to panic more easily, he thought. He needed to clarify and reassure.
“Precisely. But realize this is just conjecture, I have read nothing to confirm it,” Doron said, “We should be fine.”
It was quiet as the fire crackled.
Zeke and David grabbed their rifles and set off to set up the guard duty perimeter.
Mike had set up a tarp shower enclosure, about ten yards downstream. Doron had rigged up a pvc pipe that furnished water.
Karen said “Samuel has first shower,” as she reached for the soap. K-Bar perked his ears up, wondering if they were going somewhere. Doron watched Karen pat K-Bar’s head.
“Not going anywhere, K-Bar,” Karen said.
“We are home.”
124.
Within two weeks, David had set up separate farm plots for each person, choosing areas with minimal surface fallout. The fallout dust was still very lethal, and concentrated in certain areas depending upon wind patterns. Doron calculated they were absorbing radiation every day, and would die early.
“ 40 would be the new 80, “ Doron cracked, at dinner.
“40 is pretty old, who wanted to live past 40 anyway?” Zeke replied.
The foothills of the Appalachians were ideal for crops, as fallout dust naturally dissipated in the gently rolling, windswept fields.
Everyone planted their crops. Doron had found a farming book from an agricultural extension office, and they studied it every night.
David searched frantically for bees to pollinate his crops. After the attack, bees were hard to find. Karen started a butterfly garden. David noticed that some of the butterflies would pollinate his crops, if the butterfly plants were located near in the crops so the butterflies didn’t have to flitter too far.
Butterflies and moths were more laid back, slow, and graceful than the busy bees, but the crops did get partially pollinated. Or maybe some bees did come by, who knows? The butterflies or bees were critical to prevent them from losing the crop seed. Apparently humans were not the only ones to adapt, improvise and overcome.
David did finally find one bee hive, and Phelps Honey and Bee Hive Crop Rental became wildly profitable.
Within a month, Doron had adapted a small hydroelectric generator that supplied nonstop power for his invention shop, the entire settlement, and lights to illuminate the defensive barricade. But Doron and Ashley really prospered when they began to manufacture shot gun shells, and Doron's Jailbreaks for cars.
Doron and David modified a Walmart into a hangar by knocking out two walls. They stored the DC-3, test flying it and taking survey flights north and west, carefully following Interstate highways. Mike and Chloe began to distill corn into gasohol, which trucks could run on, and amassed an endless supply of fresh food, and corn bartered by people who needed gas. Doron said it was the same principle as the miller being paid in kind to grind the farmer’s wheat.
But Mike became famous for designing and building ingenious, primitive, city water purification systems and aqueducts which could be built and maintained by untrained people with simple components.
These systems became known
as O’Haras. Travelers would ask if a community had good water.
“Oh yes, we even have an O’Hara aqueduct,” people would brag.
125.
Zeke came by just after dawn to say goodbye to David and Karen. He was restless, he missed the travel, adventure, and the adrenaline fix. When he heard three soldiers who had completed their service and were heading to California and Washington State, he knew it was time to leave.
“Why?” asked David.
“It’s like I have to know what is beyond the next mountain, the next river. I need to ride fast, run free,” Zeke struggled to explain.
“I want to see it all.”
David smiled.
“Take this,” David said, handing Zeke his K-Bar, and a concealed carry revolver that could use the same ammo as his 9, and the famous Bob Seger CD.
“And this,” said Karen, handing Zeke one of her live grenades from her every day carry bag, as the soldiers gasped.
“I told you I hang with a tough posse,” Zeke laughed to the soldiers.
Karen wiped her eyes, and said “Zeke...”
Zeke waited.
“Marriage is important. For you and your kids. Your kids will be our nieces and nephews, we want to know who they are. You need to know who they are. No whoring around, you are better than that,” Karen emphasized.
“Maybe so,” Zeke said, pausing.
“But I am not much better than that,” he finished, smiling.
Karen punched his arm, as everyone laughed.
“Be careful,” David said.
Zeke nodded, turned, cranked up the motorcycle, and left.
These were quality people Zeke thought. A chapter closing, but what a book.
__________
That night, as they watched the logs burn in the fireplace, Karen asked David, “Do you wish you could just leave, see what’s out there, like Zeke?”
“No,” he answered. “It’s good for Zeke to go, and it’s good for me to stay.”
“He doesn’t know it, but he is just looking for what I have already found,” he finished.
Nuclear War Club: Seven high school students are in detention when Nuclear War explodes.Game on, they are on their own. Page 32