He had sent the bullet to the right place, and an unmistakable plume of snow blossomed in front of the lead driver, bringing both machines to a stop, side by side. In the glare Gus couldn't see much beyond the headlights, though he suspected they were either figuring their battle plan, or looking for a white flag.
He wasn't curious for long. One snowmobile suddenly roared ahead, and white muzzle flashes came from near the other machine. Gus cycled the rifle’s bolt, illuminated the reticle, to compensate for the glare from the headlight, and tracked the charging snowmobile's movement. Holding his aim a foot below the headlight, he softly touched the trigger.
A 250-grain Sierra Match King bullet penetrated the snowmobile's thin fiberglass cowling, having virtually no effect on the ballistic projectile. The aluminum motor housing deformed the bullet, but absorbed little of the bullet's terminal energy. The bullet delivered all of its remaining force to the forged-steel crankshaft that was spinning at 4800 rpm—disintegrating it. The snowmobile's track locked up and abruptly stopped the machine.
Gus re-acquired the snowmobile in the scope in time to see the rider crawling toward the headlight of the following machine, leaving dark streaks in the snow. Muzzle flashes in quick succession and the sound of bullets striking the shop made Gus take cover. Moments later the sound of a retreating snowmobile could be heard. Gus got on the rifle again, but could see little more than a bobbing red taillight in the blackness.
"HANK, ELA," he hollered, running for the house until Ela stepped out and waved, slowing him to a walk.
"What happened?" Ela asked, as she and Hank came to meet Gus.
"Looks like I killed the machine and wounded the rider. The other snowmobile gathered him up and headed back from where they came. You're both okay?"
"We're fine." Ela walked up to Gus and gave him a hug. "Thanks for being alert and turning them around."
"Two shots to their thirty, or whatever it was. Good job, Gus," said Hank.
"Thanks. I hope I took that rider out of action, but I don't think this is over yet, especially since it's snowing again. Things have got to be getting worse at the dude ranch and Gateway," Gus said.
"Will they be back tonight?" Ela asked.
"I don't know, but I'm going to hike out and take a look at that snowmobile before they have a chance to come back. Might be something useful out there."
"Standing around all day is getting to me, and I could use some exercise. May I come with you?" Ela asked.
"Sure."
"I'll stay to hold the fort and cover you, if needed," said Hank.
Gus went to the shop and picked up a battery-powered lantern and the two of them made their way to the machine. Gus had asked Ela to count her steps from the shop. At the machine he had counted fewer than two hundred steps, and she was just over, so he figured it had been close to a 200-yard shot. The entrance hole just below the headlight he estimated as about the size of a dime. Shrapnel from the engine had left other jagged, large-diameter holes and effectively destroyed the cowl. Lining up the trajectory of the engine with some of the holes it seemed likely the rider had been hit in the crotch area with multiple pieces of shrapnel. On the front of the seat the lantern's light reflected off a lumpy pool of blood. Neither one of them commented on what those lumps might be, as each quickly looked away.
In the rear storage compartment they found a bag full of cigar-shaped objects wrapped in aluminum foil and an unopened 1.75-liter bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold.
On the walk back to the house Gus said, "It's really good to have Hank here, he livens up the party."
"We've both been through the wringer during the last few days, we needed someone to cheer us up."
"With Hank, and now Jose, coming to the party more cheer should start flowing soon. If I'm not mistaken, that bag is full of tacos de harina. They smell delicious."
"I'm shocked I can talk about food after seeing that bloody mess back there, but I'm hungry. Whether things ever get back to normal or not, I don't think I will. I'm not the same person I was when I landed at GJT a week ago."
"None of us will be the same after our experience with this storm, but tonight the three of us will eat well and toast to our momentary good fortune. Instead of a hurricane party, we'll have a blizzard blast."
Day 9
Tess & Eric - Delaware Bay, DE
Midnight found Robin nearing Chesapeake City, along the C & D Canal, with Tess at the helm. When Eric joined her in the cockpit she said, "The front will be over us before long, till now we've been protected from the wind due to being in the cut of the canal. When we exit into the Delaware River it is very open, and the wind will be stronger. It could get very rough, you ready for that?"
"Of course!"
"Okay. For what's left of tonight you can sleep any place you want below. That'll change if we go to sea."
"How will it change?"
"At sea we'll sleep on the downhill side of the salon, but that changes every time we change tack."
"Probably need to let the sleeping crew know when a tack is about to happen?"
"Of course. A person will know either way, but it's less painful if they're warned, rather than thrown out of bed. At sea being able to sleep in short stretches, and still get enough rest to maintain effectiveness, is a learned skill. It's very important to try to rest when not on watch; we'll both need to work at it."
"Like now? I should be trying to rest instead of being up here in the cockpit visiting with you?"
"Correct. Try to sleep, I'll call you if I need to."
"Good night, Tess, even though it's morning."
~~~
Tess turned to starboard on exiting the C & D Canal into the Delaware River, pointing Robin's bow at the Atlantic Ocean. High tide had just passed. The ebb, giving them a lift in speed over the ground, coupled with the WSW wind, giving them a close-hauled point of sail, suggested a fast passage. The only problem she anticipated came from the nearly opposing wind and tide conditions. That setup tended to make waves pile up and bow spray fly. She expected a rough, wet ride with Robin's bow crashing into the waves, sending spray back to the cockpit, once the southward flow of the ebb tide gained momentum.
Thoughts of a boisterous sail reminded Tess to keep an eye on Eric, if he didn't get seasick today their chances of making a successful passage improved. She would feel even better if he could maintain a course, handle the heavy shipping traffic they were sure to encounter in the confines of the ship lanes, as well as endure rough conditions without suffering seasickness. As soon as he woke up school would start. They needed to go over how to observe the Navigational Rules of The Road; some on-the-job training would be required before she would let Eric steer on his own in a restricted ship channel for more than fifteen minutes at a time.
~~~
For Eric the day had passed quickly, most of it a blur. From being at death's door yesterday morning, to losing his safe haven to hunker down and survive in, to hatching a plan to escape the developing police state across the U.S. by sailing away on a stormy night, these last thirty-eight hours were the most exciting of his life. Interesting times, he thought, history will judge if they prove to be beneficial to mankind as planned, or not.
Below deck, with orders to rest, his mind had refused anything to do with sleep. Instead, he wondered what his best short-term course of action should be, to give him a chance for a long-term future. With the cash, gold coins, and 3 terabytes of data on an external hard drive, he had resources to survive a modern world, but he wished he had more tools to survive a world without technology. He would have packed seeds and a shovel if he could have foreseen how much chaos cyber attacks caused.
Being at sea for a couple of weeks might just be good luck. If they made landfall three weeks after the initial event things might be stabilizing. Once he got to someplace safe, he could use the BGAN terminal to access news from the group and to make a plan based on the situation at that time. Meanwhile, he needed to concentrate on learning everything about this s
ailboat.
So far Tess had proven to be a quiet, introspective woman. When he asked her something she fully listened to his question before answering. He detected no lingering animosity from her. She seemed willing to teach him everything he needed to know to be able to sail the boat by himself; which was his goal, in case something happened to her.
Reminding himself of her orders to sleep, he attempted to rein in his thoughts, by concentrating on relaxing each muscle, starting with his toes and working up.
Andy, Jennifer, Tye & Reb - East Texas
Tye woke to his internal alarm clock that went off every morning just in time for him to greet the sun. He carefully rolled out of bed, trying not to wake Reb; she liked to give the sun a head start before beginning her day.
As Tye walked off the front porch and looked out over the farm, he noticed the low-hanging ground fog looked like pink cotton candy in the first rays of the red-hued sunrise. Feeling slight warmth to the air, from the rising sun on a cloudless morning, he knew the fog would burn off soon.
Bernie came out of his camp trailer and met Tye near the parked vehicles. "What in the hell is that fireball to the east?" Bernie asked by way of a greeting.
"That's the sun, it looked the same back in the heat wave. You forgot already?"
"No, but I've missed it a lot lately."
"It'll warm up this morning, then start raining again this afternoon, I bet. I suspect we'd remember this cold fondly, if it weren't for the trouble that came with it. Right now, I'm trying to figure out how to handle the beef from the two yearlings without any refrigeration and with temperatures climbing, any ideas?" Tye asked.
"In hot humid weather, before electrical power was invented, a kill was cooked and eaten for the next few days until it was gone, or started to go bad. Then it was recycled through the hogs and chickens. There're probably other ways to preserve it, maybe canning, salting, or smoking, if the means and materials are available," Bernie said.
"Butcher-and-cook is the best plan two geniuses like us can come up with?"
"I'm out of practice remembering and figuring things out for myself, I'd Google it for you if I could."
"I'd rather have a heated dehydrator, or my shop, to build one. In the meanwhile, I'll get my shotgun and see if I can scare up some volunteers, so we can get this party going," Tye said.
~~~
Jennifer woke up hearing voices outside, she half-remembered hearing her father leaving the house earlier, so she decided the time had come to get up. As soon as she came fully awake, she remembered the events of the night before and lightly touched her cheek. What had been a red mark last night, now felt like it had scabbed over during her sleep.
In the dimly lit bathroom she could see a long scab marring her cheek and neck, and the red marks on her neck were now black and blue. The full light of day would reveal the whole mess with more detail; she could hardly wait for that. She wondered if she would have a scar when the scab fell off. Of course, she could be looking into the face of her captor, instead of a mirror. She chastised herself for wallowing in vanity and wasting time on what would be a busy day.
~~~
"Now who's the most colorful of all?" Andy asked, when she entered the kitchen to find him and her mother cooking breakfast.
"I'm just taking over where you left off. Your bruises are all fading, not fresh and vibrant like mine."
"Good Morning, Jen. Let me know when you two decide to start comparing scars, so I can leave the room," Reb said.
"Morning Mom, you're just worried I'll distract your sous-chef. Speaking of distractions, here comes Dad walking like there's something important brewing in his belfry."
When Tye came into the kitchen it started all over again with comments on her appearance, which she took in stride. Mercifully, Tye's comments were short-lived, since he had something he wanted to say that he couldn't hold back for long. "The best plan I've heard, so far, this morning is to butcher and then cook all the meat today. We'll divide it up among all the families and try to eat it before it goes bad. I'm looking for volunteers before I organize the press gangs."
"We've already been getting busy in this kitchen," Reb said. "What we can't eat we could use to fill up the canning jars I have on hand."
Bernie knocked and entered the kitchen. "I talked to Ben and he suggested they take one beef and we take the other, as a way to divvy up the meat and the labor."
"That's reasonable, we may be able to process and cook one beef today, if we started an hour ago. I'm standing here ready to cook, so when you boys get done talking, bring me some beef," Reb said.
Gus, Ela & Hank - Unaweep Canyon, CO
Ample evidence of the toll their three-hour watches had taken on each of them showed from the depth of forehead worry-lines and lack of conversation. Ela stood in her spot by the kitchen window watching the falling snow while Gus got the coffee pot filled and heating.
Sitting at the table, covertly watching the pot, Hank broke the silence, "It feels peculiar sitting here in their kitchen, waiting on coffee, without Al and Beth. I didn't know Beth well, but I considered Al a buddy. It's his property that Con's car is parked on."
"I meant to ask you about them. Before she died Beth told us Al's last words to her were something about a decoy. Later, Ela and I figured out what he meant and found the combination to the safe inside a duck decoy. I fully intend on returning the guns we're using to his lawful heirs," Gus said.
"Afraid I can't help you there. They never had children, so I wouldn't know who is in line to inherit. I got hints from Al over the years that he expected this place to take all his money; he had plans to become totally self-sufficient. He paid the property off not long ago and intended the sale of the other parcel to finance upgrading this one."
"Hear that?" Ela asked.
"Sounds like a helicopter to me, I've been dreaming of one coming to rescue me for a week,” Gus said and ran outside.
Hank and Ela followed. All of them tried to find the aircraft through the low hanging snow clouds; their heads swiveled in all directions as the sound bounced off the canyon walls. Ela’s hearing, sharper than the men's, cut through the echoes, and she pointed toward the source of the sound as it passed over them going up the canyon, toward the dude ranch.
"Sounds like the cavalry is arriving for the wealthy. The reception should prove interesting," said Gus. Moments later they heard the first gunshots. Both Gus and Hank expectantly watched as Ela stood with her eyes closed, turning her head slightly, her hands cupped behind her ears.
"The helicopter is coming back toward us," she said. Ela dropped her hands and opened her eyes to find both men looking at her closely, waiting for the roar of the helicopter to pass over them. As soon as it had, she added, "It didn't land, but for maybe an instant, and I doubt even that. It sounded like it was moving the whole time."
"They couldn't have been able to see anything until they got below the cloud cover, which is close to the ground today. So they may have taken a few rounds or seen people shooting at them and aborted the landing," Hank said. "This is not good. Whoever that is will be back, and they know what to expect now; so next time they'll be prepared for a hostile reception. We should be prepared for the same."
"Yeah, it's safer for us to assume they're not friendly until they prove differently. One warning shot is all the warning I'm willing to give 'em," Gus said.
"Mom didn't give even that, or we'd be dead."
"If they get that close we shouldn't either, but I hope to stop them as soon as I can see them," Gus said. "I'm going to the shop to keep watch from there."
"I agree. We can't afford to assume good intentions from people who are desperate. I'll be in the house with Ela," Hank said.
Time passed. Snow fell. At noon the sound of snowmobiles broke the silence. Standing outside the front door of the house Ela pointed toward the highway.
Gus joined her and Hank, saying, "Those snowmobiles are coming from Gateway, so I think they must be someone other than
people from the dude ranch, because they're following the highway instead of taking the shortcut of the cross-country trail."
"I was thinking the same thing. Wonder if these guys will do any better than the helicopter did," Hank said.
"I think I hear the helicopter coming," said Ela. A moment later the men heard the aircraft approaching, its rotor-beats echoing off the canyon walls.
"Let's stay out of sight and see how this shakes out. We may want to try and contact these guys, if we can figure out if they are law enforcement," Gus said. He turned and went back to the shop.
As they walked back to the house Hank added, "It's a good bet local law enforcement as well as the people at the dude ranch would know the short cut to the dude ranch, but those snowmobilers with the helicopter don't. Since they are following the highway, I don't think they are locals."
Ela held Hanks eyes for a moment before answering, "So let's run through what we have. We've just heard a helicopter and snowmobiles, but haven't seen them. Before that we heard gunshots when the helicopter first tried to land, and now it's back with its reinforcements. Both came from Gateway. I don't think there are any law enforcement resources in that one-horse town. If they're not from the dude ranch and not local law enforcement—who are they?"
"Whoever they are they're deadly serious, or they wouldn't be flying in this weather in the first place. Secondly, it didn't take long to return after the first attempt, so they've got resources close by. I agree that it's more than the town of Gateway can afford, so I really doubt it's the local law. Private security, or hired guns, is what all this looks like to me," Hank said.
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