Solar Plexus

by Victor Zugg

  CHAPTER 4

  Sam and Chet, with Tiff, stuffed in the back with all the equipment, some on her lap, cruised down 326 toward the interstate. They were passing a Home Depot on the right when Sam whipped the wheel for a last-second turn into the parking lot.

  “I’ve got an idea,” he said.

  Chet looked over at Sam and then glanced back at Tiff to make sure she and the equipment were still there. Tiff was holding on to the roll bar with one hand and the pack sitting in her lap with the other.

  Sam pulled to a stop at the far end of the parking lot as far from the store entrance as possible. Several people were entering and exiting the door.

  Sam slid from the seat and slammed the door. “I think you two should stay with the buggy, I’ll be right back.”

  “Gotcha,” Chet replied, “we’ll be here.”

  Sam hustled across the parking lot and entered the store. There were fewer people than Sam would have expected, but business was brisk and orderly. He made his way to the rope aisle where he picked up a large spool of parachute cord along with several high-tension bungee cords. He continued to the lumber aisle where he picked up four eight-foot two-by-fours. With all in hand, he headed straight to the checkout and found the shortest line. He noticed that the clerk was accepting cash from the people ahead of him.

  Sam emerged from the store, in and out in only fifteen minutes, and started across the parking lot. He immediately noticed a group of eight or ten people surrounding the buggy. Chet and Tiff were standing in the middle of the group, Tiff being rather animated with her gestures, apparently arguing with someone.

  As Sam got closer, he heard a male raised voice. “Like I said, sir, the Marion County Sheriff’s Office is hereby confiscating this vehicle. It will be used for emergency service.”

  Chet stood his ground. “Don’t think so, we’re just passing through and we’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

  Sam walked up behind the group and heard several people siding with the deputy. The group was becoming agitated as Tiff argued with several people, especially a mouthy overweight woman.

  “I can take this vehicle by force if necessary,” the deputy said.

  “Don’t think so,” Chet replied calmly.

  Sam pushed his way through the crowd using the two-by-fours to clear a path. Everyone stopped talking and stared at Sam as he went to the side of the buggy and placed the two-by-fours length-wise on top, across the roll bars. He then dropped the bungees and cord in the bed, all without saying a word. He then motioned for Chet and Tiff to get in the buggy. The group and the deputy just stood staring, obviously not sure what to do.

  The deputy continued, “Like I said, I’m confiscating this vehicle!”

  Sam held the deputy’s stare, inserted the key in the ignition, started the engine, and looked over at Chet. “Hold on to the two-by-fours.”

  Chet and Tiff grabbed hold of the boards and Sam pulled slowly away from the crowd. All the people just stared without saying a word.

  Sam exited the parking lot and turned back onto 326 heading west. He went about two blocks and then stopped at the back of a closed gas station. No people were in sight.

  “Let’s lash these boards down to the roll bars,” Sam said, as he opened the door and jumped out.

  Chet and Tiff jumped out and then lined the boards up a few inches apart so they stretched across the roll bars covering most of the buggy’s width.

  “Let’s put most of the overhang in the back so Tiff will have some shade,” Chet said. He grabbed the spool of cord, slid the boards more to the rear, and began lashing them tight to the bars.

  Tiff held the board steady. “I like that idea.”

  Sam walked to the rear of the buggy and dropped the tailgate. He hooked the chains so the gate would ride parallel to the road. He then pulled the two five-gallon gas cans from inside the bed and placed them on the tailgate behind the bench seat. He used several bungee cords to affix them tightly to the back of the seat and the side of the bed. Chet and Tiff finished lashing the boards about the same time Sam finished with the gas cans.

  “Let’s put the backpacks up top,” Sam said, as he grabbed his pack and placed it on top of the boards which now formed a solid platform.

  “Another good idea,” Tiff said, as she grabbed her pack and placed it on top.

  They proceeded to tie all three packs to the boards. When finished, they stood back to admired their work. The three packs, which made up the bulk of their gear, were on top of the buggy and the gas cans were behind the bench seat leaving plenty of room for Tiff, the food bags, rifles, and ammo in the bed, either on the floor or on the seat beside where Tiff would sit.

  “I like it,” Chet said. He brushed his hands together removing imaginary dirt.

  Sam stepped forward, rummaged through the food bag from his house, and came out with three granola bars and three bottles of water. He handed out the food and water and everyone piled back into the buggy.

  Sam pulled out from behind the building and turned right on 326 as he took a bite of the granola bar. The interstate was in sight and he headed for the on-ramp that would take them north. Sam had to slow at the ramp because of several stalled cars stopped in the middle of the road. The buggy had no trouble pulling through the soft sand on both shoulders. Once on the interstate, Sam was able to accelerate some despite the numerous stalled vehicles.

  “With all these cars, gas shouldn’t be a problem,” Chet said.

  Sam nodded and remained focused on maneuvering around abandoned vehicles. Tiff was busy in the back topping off 5.56 magazines.

  “Should we stop at night or drive through?” Chet asked.

  Sam glanced over. “I’d love to just drive through, but in the dark we wouldn’t have a lot of heads up on what’s ahead. We could find ourselves up against a roadblock, maybe even an ambush.”

  Chet reached into the glove box and came out with the Florida map. “You’re probably right, better safe than sorry.” Chet unfolded the map and scrutinized the squiggly lines. After a few minutes, he said, “Most of seventy-five runs through open country well into Georgia, we could stop anywhere.” Chet continued looking at the map.

  Sam glanced in the rearview mirror at Tiff. “Tiff, I meant to ask you, military?”

  Tiff looked up. “Marines. Two years of college out of high school and then six years in the corps. That was three years ago. I intended to make it a career, but men are pigs.”

  “I’ll go along with that,” Sam agreed.

  “What about you two?”

  “Retired army airborne for me,” Chet replied, looking up from the map. “Sam here is also retired, from the air force. He went to fancy lad school a few years after he joined—came out an officer.”

  Sam smiled.

  Tiff focused on Sam. “Pilot?”

  “I get that question a lot, no, OSI investigator—like NCIS in the Navy. I started out enlisted as a combat controller which is the nearest thing to a grunt in the air force. That’s why I’m able to communicate with Chet. I went to school at night, then to officers’ training, and then transferred into the investigator field which is what I did for the last fifteen years of my military career.”

  “What do you do now?”

  “Security consulting. Mostly seminars to corporations on how to avoid internal theft and embezzlement. Started right after I retired about ten years ago. Chet joined me after he retired.”

  “We tag team; makes it more fun,” Chet said. “We were supposed to be in Dallas today for a two-day seminar. I guess the sun had other ideas about what we should be doing today.”

  Sam pointed ahead. “Could be trouble.”

  Chet and Tiff looked where Sam pointed.

  Half a mile up, four men were going from vehicle to vehicle, breaking windows, and opening doors.

  “Shitheads are looting already,” Tiff said.

  Tiff handed one of the cheap rifles to Chet. Chet took it and eased the charging handle back a smidge to see if the ch
amber was loaded. It was. Tiff also handed Sam’s Sig rifle to Chet to hold for Sam. Chet checked the Sig’s chamber and then placed the rifle on the floor, barrel down, next to him so it would be easy for Sam to grab.

  Sam came to a stop behind a large van about two hundred yards from the men who were now looking intently in the buggy’s direction. Sam, Chet, and Tiff jumped out, brought their rifles immediately to bear, and spread out. All three started moving forward using stalled vehicles for cover as much as possible.

  The three had gone fifty yards when all four men ahead ran down the embankment to the east, hopped the fence, and ran into the tree line.

  Sam stopped, “Anybody see weapons?”

  “Two had side arms, not sure about the other two,” Chet replied.

  “That’s all I saw,” Tiff said.

  Sam lowered his rifle and turned around. “Let’s go back.”

  All three jogged back to the buggy and got in. Sam glanced at Chet and Tiff. “We’d be sitting ducks driving by those dick heads. I don’t like it.”

  “How about if we cross over to the southbound lanes and punch it,” Chet offered.

  “That I like,” Sam replied, “but keep low until we are well past.”

  “Count on it,” Tiff said.

  Sam started the engine, wrenched the wheel hard left, and shot straight across the lanes, through the wide grass median, onto the southbound lanes, and headed north. He kept to the far left and whipped around cars, pickups, and semis as fast as safely possible. Chet and Tiff kept their eyes in the direction of where they had seen the four men and looked for any movement.

  Eight minutes later and two miles down the road Sam glanced back. “I think we’re good.”

  Tiff motioned with her rifle barrel. “No sign of the dick heads.”

  “I’ll second that,” Chet said.

  Sam slowed, made his way back across the median, and back onto the northbound lanes. He proceeded north at a good pace dodging stalled vehicles where necessary. Sam took the rifle from his lap and handed it back to Tiff. She leaned it against the seat.

  “I’ll hang onto mine,” Chet said, as he pointed the barrel to the floor between his legs.

  ***

  They had driven about an hour when Sam brought Chet and Tiff out of their reveries. He pointed ahead to a heavy bank of dark clouds hanging low over the highway. “We’re about to get wet.”

  “Must be four o’clock in Florida,” Chet said. “Rains the same time every day.”

  Tiff tapped Sam and Chet on the shoulder and pointed up. “You two have a rain resistant roof, I don’t.”

  Chet glanced at Tiff and smiled. “Hey, she’s right.”

  “There’s an exit up ahead,” Sam said, motioning with his hand. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “Sign says highway 234 to Micanopy.” Chet said the name slowly, rolling the syllables off his tongue.

  Sam glanced over. “Most people get that wrong.”

  “I taught Native American history at Yale,” Chet said with a smirk.

  “Uh-huh. Was that before or after you served in the Senate?” Sam countered.

  “I’m not sure I can make it to Tennessee with you two,” Tiff said, shaking her head.

  Sam took the off ramp and came to a full stop at the intersection. The area seemed deserted, but they were not able to see far because of the overpass on the left and trees on the right.

  Chet looked left and then right. “All the people must be in Micanopy.” He rolled the syllables again.

  Sam looked left and then right. “Uh-huh, which way?”

  “Left,” Tiff spoke up.

  “Left it is,” Sam said, as he stepped on the gas and turned the wheel to the left.

  A Shell gas station was on the right just past the overpass. It looked newer than the few other buildings around but like every other place, there was no activity.

  “This must be a really small exit,” Tiff offered.

  On the left stood a much older and smaller building that had fallen into disrepair. The metal roof over the pump island gave it away as what used to be a gas station. The next building down, also on the left, was surrounded by a chain-link fence with a For Sale sign in front. The building also was formerly a gas station. This one was a little bigger and even had two service bays, both with an overhead door closing off the entrances.

  “Looks promising,” Sam mumbled, as he pulled to a stop in front of the chain link gate.

  Everyone hopped out and approached the gate only to find it secured with a chain and padlock.

  “Let’s see if there’s a key around here,” Chet said, as he walked off to the right toward the ditch.

  “I’ll check over here,” Tiff muttered, as she stepped off to the left.

  Twenty seconds later Chet returned with a rock about the size of a softball. He approached the gate and slammed the rock against the padlock. It took several strikes but finally, the lock broke open. He removed the chain and opened the gate wide enough for the buggy to enter. Sam returned to the buggy, started the engine, and drove through the gate as Chet walked toward the service bay doors. He reached down to the metal handle on the left door and lifted. It didn’t budge. He stepped over to the right door and lifted. The door rolled up with almost no effort and, even better, the bay was completely empty.

  Sam drove the buggy into the bay, turned off the engine, and hopped out. Tiff closed the chain link gate and repositioned the chain with the broken lock, making the gate appear secure. She then walked into the bay, turned, and closed the overhead door.

  Sam, Chet, and Tiff explored the rest of the station. The main customer area and the parts room were completely empty. Tiff unlocked the front door from the inside and walked around the building out of sight. She returned a few seconds later.

  “Both bathrooms locked tight,” she said. “No water anyhow. Looks like our only bathroom is in the trees out back, mind if I go first?”

  Sam looked through the window at the dark sky outside. “Looks like you have about three minutes. Chet and I are going to top off the tank and try to refill the cans.”

  Tiff nodded and then exited through the front door and disappeared around the corner of the building.

  Sam unhooked the bungees on one of the gas cans, sat it below the gas cap on the side of the buggy, and then retrieved a funnel from under the front seat. He opened the gas cap and inserted the funnel while Chet lifted the can and poured slowly until the can was empty. Chet set the can on the concrete and grabbed the second can, unscrewed the cap, and poured slowly until it too was empty.

  “Ten gallons should just about fill the tank,” Sam said, as he removed the funnel. He replaced the gas cap and returned the funnel back under the seat.

  “That Shell station had a car in the drive,” Chet said. He picked up both empty cans. “I think we have time before the rain.”

  Sam reached back under the front seat and produced a short plastic hose with an accordion pump toward one end. He took one of the cans from Chet’s hand and they both exited through the station’s front door. At the gate, Sam removed the chain, opened the gate, and followed Chet through the opening. Sam closed the gate, and they both walked the short distance to the Shell station.

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky again,” Sam said, as he pulled on the driver’s side door handle. The door opened and Sam reached in and pulled up on the gas release. The little door popped open. Chet removed the cap. Sam inserted the plastic hose and began squeezing the accordion pump. Gas flowed into the gas can.

  They had just finished filling the second can when suddenly there was a bright flash and a loud clap of thunder. They hustled back down the road, crossed over, went back through the gate, and secured it as before. They had just stepped into the station when fat raindrops began pummeling the area. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped again. They found Tiff sitting in the buggy’s driver’s seat.

  “Lucky we found this station,” Chet said, as he sat his gas can on the buggy’s tailgate. “Everyth
ing would have been soaked through in this downpour.”

  Tiff jumped out of the buggy and helped Chet fasten the bungee cords while Sam did the same with his gas can.

  Sam turned to Chet and Tiff. “Sleeping arrangements?”

  Chet and Tiff looked at each other and then back to Sam. “What did you have in mind?” Chet asked.

  Tiff zeroed in on Sam. Her eyes narrowed. “Yeah, what did you have in mind?”

  Sam shook his head with mild annoyance. “What I meant was, it’s only been one day since the blackout. I think we should keep watch through the night, one up while the other two sleep. And no lights.”

  Chet glanced at Tiff as she visibly exhaled with relief and then back to Sam with a smirk. “I don’t have any lights.”

  Sam turned to the buggy. “And we should also start thinking about dinner.”

  “I can take care of that,” Tiff said, as she joined Sam at the buggy. She jerked her nylon food bag from the bench seat. “Black beans and rice with sardines sound okay.”

  “It does,” Sam said, as he began untying the backpacks on the roof. “I have a stove; we can crack the overhead door and set up over there.”

  ***

  An hour later, with fading light, Tiff was out front using the deluge pouring from the roof to wash the aluminum dishes and pots from dinner. She returned inside with clean dishes to find Sam laying out his sleeping bag on the concrete floor next to the buggy.

  Tiff approached Sam. “Where’s Chet?”

  “Setting up in the parts room,” Sam replied, as he stood up. “He snores.”

  Tiff reached for her sleeping bag from the back of the buggy and pointed to the far wall. “I guess I’ll set up over there.”

  Sam nodded. “I’m going to turn in so I can take the last watch. If you can take the first watch, wake Chet in four hours or so.”

  “Will do,” Tiff said, as she turned toward the far wall, walked over, and rolled out her sleeping bag.

  As the last bit of light disappeared from the overcast sky, Tiff walked into the customer area of the station and took a position on the floor up against the back counter. With no lights of any kind and no moon, she was soon immersed in total blackness. This meant there was nothing she could really do except sit there, thinking and listening.