by Bruno Miller
John smiled and picked the bags up off the ground. He twisted the release valve on the pump and let the air out, making the bags flat once more.
“Here you go. You can do the next one while I get the winch cable unrolled.” John handed the bags and stick to Cy and headed back to his truck. Cy looked over the hood of the oversized SUV and glanced down the line of trucks.
“Which ones should I open?” Cy asked.
“Just work your way down the line. I want to grab at least four or five, maybe more if we can fit ’em.” Vince was already inside the truck and working at getting the rubber boot off the base of the column shifter.
“Got it.” Cy hurried to the next vehicle, leaving Vince to himself. Vince had worked on a few newer Chevys but none this new. On the trucks he’d seen, inside the column there was a release that was normally triggered when you inserted the key and allowed the lever to be shifted into gear. Without the key, he would have to manually push the pin back and out of the way in order to free the shifter up.
Pleased to see that the design hadn’t changed on the newer models, he inserted a flathead screwdriver and pushed. Within seconds, he had the truck in neutral and had to put his foot on the brake to keep it from rolling down the slight incline of the car lot. He checked to make sure Cy was clear and that John was out of the way before he took his foot off the pedal.
The big Suburban inched backward, and he carefully turned the wheel. The truck backed out of its spot in a wide arc. Vince was careful not to turn the wheel too hard and lock it up. He could feel the spring tighten and held it as far to the left as he dared. If he went too far and the steering locked up, they’d be screwed and wouldn’t be able to turn the vehicle without the key.
When he had backed up as far as he could without pushing the truck, he pulled the emergency brake and climbed out. He stepped back and looked at the angle of the truck in relation to the trailer ramp, and he was pleased with it. He was only about fifteen degrees from being lined up with the ramp, and once the winch cable was hooked up, steering onto the carrier should be no problem.
John was up on top of the trailer, fishing the winch cable through the frame and over the top of the rig. He pulled it through until he had enough slack to reach the Suburban.
“Heads up,” John called out and tossed the cable off the end of the trailer to Vince. Once the Suburban was attached, John took his position at the front of the Bronco and prepared the winch by taking the slack out of the cable until it was tightly stretched over the carrier. Vince would have liked to have another radio for this operation and was relieved to see Cy heading over to join them.
“The whole row is unlocked.” Cy looked back at the line of trucks proudly.
“Great, how about giving us a hand? You can relay messages in case I need him to stop winching. I can’t use the windows and there isn’t enough room on the ramp to keep the door open, so watch for my hand signals. Thumbs up: keep winching. Closed fist: stop.” Vince made a fist and held it up so Cy could see.
“No problem.” Cy nodded and took a spot midway along the trailer on the other side so he could keep an eye on his dad and John at the same time. Vince climbed into the truck and did a quick check to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. Satisfied that he had thought of everything, he released the emergency brake. The big SUV rolled back a few inches before being stopped by the cable. Vince closed the door and gave Cy a thumbs up.
Within a few seconds, Vince was moving toward the ramp on the back of the trailer. Careful not to over-steer and lock out the wheel, he lined up the tires with the two sections as best as he could. As the front tires rolled onto the ramp, Vince heard the trailer creak and groan as the weight of the Suburban settled in. He made a few minor adjustments to center the truck on the two narrow metal supports. It felt like the trailer was too narrow to accept the oversized SUV, but he kept rolling forward. Before he knew it, he was up on the top level of steel grates.
It was a lot higher than it looked from the ground, and it made Vince nervous to be perched up there on the thin steel planks that were just wide enough to fit the tires. When he reached the end of the ramp, he held up his fist and felt the truck slow its advance. He stopped it all the way by pressing down hard on the brake.
He set the emergency brake and flung the door open, forgetting about the rail that ran along the outside of the trailer. The door banged into the railing, and as he squeezed out through the slim opening, he eyed the large dent he had put in the new truck.
“Oops,” he mumbled. Then he felt silly when it dawned on him that the dent was probably the nicest thing that would happen to this Suburban in the very near future.
Vince made his way around to the front of the truck and waited while John backed off the tension on the winch. When it was loose enough, he unhooked the cable and walked it back down the ramp to the parking lot.
Normally, after the first vehicle was loaded, the hydraulics would be used to adjust the ramps for the next vehicle, which would have been loaded under the Suburban. But without a proper tow vehicle to hook the trailer’s utilities up, that wasn’t an option. They would have to make do with the space on the top tier of ramps alone.
Once on the ground, Vince stepped back and eyeballed the remaining space. He was disappointed to see how much room the Suburban had taken up and figured they could only squeeze on three more at most. After they delivered this load of vehicles to the motel, he’d talk to John about hooking up the single-car trailer from his garage to the Bronco or maybe one of the other vehicles. It would only add one more vehicle per run to the dealership and back, but every bit counted. Either way, there was no getting around the fact that this was going to be a long, slow process.
Chapter Twenty-One
With the motel courtyard turned into a crude holding pen for the animals, Mary, Reese, and Nugget loaded into the Ford. They made a quick stop and checked in with Sarah, who had taken over watch duties for the afternoon shift and was now manning the radio. She let them know that Vince had cleared a path and that they should be good to go. Vince also suggested that Bill help them round up the animals at Mary’s, as they had things under control at the car lot.
So Fred and Bill followed Mary and Reese in Bill’s Dodge pickup; they figured an extra vehicle to help carry supplies from Mary’s wouldn’t hurt. The animals were the priority, but Mary had a lot of other things that she hoped to bring back to the motel. She wanted to get all she could in this first trip; there was no guarantee they would have the chance to go back again anytime soon, especially if the looters decided to show up.
She had her own shotgun and a few cartons of ammunition for it in her closet upstairs, but the main thing on her mind was her basement full of canned goods. Her stash of preserved items was probably equal to or greater than what they found at the grocery store. All those long hours of canning surplus vegetables were really going to pay off, and she was glad she could contribute in such a big way. At least she hoped she could, provided they had survived and her house was still there.
As they headed out of town, it was obvious where Vince had used the loader to clear a path for them. They still proceeded with caution, though; there was still plenty of smaller debris scattered on the road. Mary thought about the houses that had succumbed to the fires and tumbled onto the streets. The thought of picking up a nail and blowing a tire was reason enough to take their time and be careful.
Not a single house was left standing, and the once quaint community of historic homes reminded her more of a war zone she’d seen on the evening news than of the Cloverdale she knew and loved. She drove this route to her store nearly every day of the week, and now it was barely recognizable. She hated seeing all the piles of burned lumber and trash where houses had once stood. They had gone through slowly in part to be cautious but mainly because they were all mesmerized by the devastation.
Mary was glad to put the congested streets of what used to be a neighborhood behind them. As the landscape opened up to wheat fie
lds and empty pastures, she picked up speed. She glanced in her rearview mirror to confirm that the men were still following. As she neared her house, it dawned on her that the pastures were eerily absent of animals. She really started to worry when she reached the Whittakers’ farm. There were no horses grazing and no cows lounging in the shade at the edge of the trees.
The Whittakers were her closest neighbors. Their forty-plus-acre parcel of land was adjacent to her property, separated only by a small patch of woods. They kept several horses and a few token cows on their land. Mr Whittaker was a doctor in town, and he and his wife had two teenage children. Mary had taken them baked goods on many occasions, and they had reciprocated in kind.
The daughter rode horses and could often be seen riding in the pasture when Mary drove by on her way home from the store. Occasionally, if she happened by at the right time, the girl would race her horse against Mary in her Jeep, along the fence line that paralleled the road, but not today—and probably not ever again.
The Whittakers big two-story home was gone, burned to the ground. Nothing but a pile of charred remains sat at the end of the perfectly straight tree-lined driveway. Thankfully, they had been away on vacation. Mary hoped that wherever they were, they had escaped the fate of so many others. She took some comfort in knowing their bodies weren’t among the ruble. The odds of them still being alive were slim, but she chose not to think about it anymore and turned her attention to the approaching tree line.
Her house would be visible soon, and the moment of truth was at hand. Had her house survived or burned down from an out-of-control grass fire that spread to her property? She’d seen many scorched fields on their journey out here today. She was on the edge of her seat as they cleared the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of her house.
It was still there, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she slowed down and prepared to turn into the gravel drive. The feeling was temporary, however, as she thought about her animals. The fact that the Whittakers’ field had lacked any signs of life gave her good reason to be concerned. Had the smoke killed them? Had they broken through the fence and ran from the flames in a moment of panic? It wouldn’t be the first time the cows had escaped.
Mary was relieved to see her one and only rooster dart out from under her front porch and greet the approaching vehicles. Nugget began to become restless and whine as they neared the end of the driveway. She knew they were home, and it was probably the first thing that made sense to the little dog since they left a week ago.
Mary brought the truck to a stop next to her Jeep. Bill, along with a cloud of dust, pulled in beside her. They all unloaded and watched as Nugget tore after the rooster, chasing him back under the porch. Giving up on the rooster, Nugget launched into a fit of running at full speed and in big circles around the yard.
“You better save your energy, girl. We’ve got work to do,” Mary said. Nugget stopped dead in her tracks and looked at Mary, tongue fully out and panting hard from her sudden burst of energy. Mary walked over to the porch and looked through the lattice underneath.
“One, two…three, four…five, six, seven. Seven chickens under here. The rest must be out back.” A large fenced-in section in her back yard stretched all the way to her small barn The chickens had a coup out there as well, but sometimes they roosted under her porch for reasons she did not understand. She’d tried to discourage them from going under there and even put lattice around the perimeter to stop them, but they had long ago pecked a chicken-sized hole in it. At the moment, she didn’t care and was glad at least half of her flock was safe and sound.
Mary was tempted to go into her house and have a look around, but she knew they needed to get the animals squared away first. She led the others around the side of her house and opened the gate to the fenced-in area.
Normally when she went out in the morning to feed the animals, they would run out from the barn to greet her. There was a hole in one of the large sliding barn doors, and it was big enough for the goats and pigs to use at their leisure so they could come and go as they pleased. On the door was a semitransparent heavy-duty plastic flap that helped keep the weather out, but it hung limp. There was no sign of movement as they approached.
Mary’s heart sank as she began to face the reality that she might only have the seven chickens left. Then, suddenly, the flap lifted, and one after another, the goats came pouring out, followed by two pigs. They must have been hiding in there since this all started. She didn’t blame them and would have done the same in their situation.
“There you are!” Mary wiped away tears of joy as the goats trotted over to greet them, bleating as they came. The pigs weren’t far behind, and before long, a chicken pushed its way past the plastic flap as well.
“Well, they sure are glad to see you. Is this all of them?” Reese knelt as one of the goats approached her, but Mary didn’t answer; she was too busy counting heads. A few were missing, and she hoped the rest were still inside the barn.
“Let’s check in the barn. I’m missing a pig, the ducks, and a few chickens.” Mary started for the big door, but Bill and Fred beat her to it and began pushing it open. She stood and watched as the light spilled in and illuminated the freshly kicked-up dust. In unison, four ducks stood up inside their nesting boxes as their midday nap was interrupted. They all began quacking in protest at the intrusion while Mary entered the barn and searched for the other animals. She found two of the missing chickens roosting in the loft area, but she was still short two birds and a pig.
“So I’m missing three chickens and a pig.” She spun around and counted the animals again. The pigs were all adults and had some size to them. The chances of the other pig hiding somewhere were slim, and if it was here, it would have come running out with the others. No, something was wrong—something had happened to the missing pig and probably the chickens as well.
“There’s one more place to check,” Mary said half aloud. The fenced-in yard extended to one side of the barn where she kept the horse trailer and a few bales of straw. Anxious to figure out where the rest of the animals were, she made her way around as the others followed, but she wasn’t prepared for what she found.
Chapter Twenty-Two
There in the back corner of the yard was the missing sow—or at least what was left of her. Mary froze in her tracks as he tried to process what she was looking at. The pig wasn’t just dead; it was torn apart.
Reese passed her and approached the carcass, then knelt to get a closer look. Mary joined her after a minute, and so did the others, although Mary was the only one to get down on the ground with Reese. What could have killed and butchered this animal like this? She immediately suspected foul play from people like the looters, but why was the body such a mess? If they killed it for meat, why didn’t they take it with them?
“Someone or something sure made a mess of that poor thing.” Fred crouched down near the pig to get a better look. Bill hung back several feet. He didn’t seem too keen on having a closer look. Reese was investigating the carcass with a stick, poking and prodding some of the larger wounds.
“This was done by another animal.” Reese pointed to a couple of different spots. “See there? And there? Teeth marks. Something with a pretty good bite radius. And it didn’t happen that long ago. I’m guessing sometime last night or early this morning.”
“What could have done that?” Bill glanced around at the empty fields surrounding them.
“We have a lot of coyotes around, but I can’t see them taking on an animal this large unless it was a pack of them.” Mary could see bite marks now that Reese had pointed them out. Over the years, she’d lost a chicken or two to coyotes, but never any large animals like this. The sow had to weigh close to three hundred pounds, if not more, and pigs could be aggressive when cornered or irritated. It just didn’t make sense.
“It could have been a black bear, I guess. Look at these here. They could be claw marks.” Reese pointed to another spot on the pig’s back.
“
A black bear? I’ve lived here all my life and never seen one.” Fred stood up and looked around. “What would a bear be doing around here?” he added.
“They’re not common, but I read that they’ve been making a comeback in the last few years,” Mary said. A while back, an article in the paper said that the black bear population was on the rise and that several had been spotted by hikers near the Leiber State recreation area and also over at Cataract Falls, neither of which was very far from here.
“Maybe we should get the animals loaded up and get back,” Bill said. He was right; they needed to get moving. It was almost two o’clock in the afternoon, and there was still plenty to do, but Mary still wanted to grab supplies from her house.
As they stood around the carcass, Nugget came over and joined them. The little dog was curious and began circling the area with her nose to the ground. Mary was surprised to see how reluctant Nugget was to get too close. On the dog’s second pass around the pig, she veered off and followed a scent on the ground, leading away from the carcass. She walked several feet toward the back of the property, sniffing the ground as she went, until she finally stopped and stared off into the field behind them.
“She smells something she doesn’t like,” Mary said.
“We really should get going.” Fred walked over to the horse trailer and inspected it. “What size ball does this take?”
“Two and a quarter inch,” Mary answered. “I’m not sure what the Ford has, but I have the right size hitch on my Jeep.”
“That’s what I have on my truck. I’ll tow it,” Bill offered.
“I’ll help you with the gate.” Fred caught up to Bill, who had already started walking back to the truck.
“While those two do that, let’s look around the barn and figure out what else we need to take with us.” Reese followed Mary back to the barn, and they started gathering supplies that would help keep the animals at the motel. Mary was sure to grab a few hand tools that she used to clean out the barn from time to time. With the animals living that close to them and in such tight quarters, keeping the courtyard as clean as possible would be important. She knew how fast it could get gross, and dirty animal was the last thing she wanted to smell on a regular basis.