Miracles

by Thomas A. Watson

  Turning his head to look at Sutton, “She makes a valid point,” Skannish noted. “I really don’t fancy the idea of languishing in a gulag in my few remaining years.”

  Cocking his head to the side, Sutton nodded in agreement when Sarah spoke again. “Where would we go? My family’s from New York and Boston. I think we need somewhere with mild winters because we’ll have to learn to grow our own food.”

  “There are a few houses I know of that are owned by acquaintances around Memphis, but I don’t like the idea of being near a big city,” Skannish offered.

  “My sister and I own a hundred and fifty acres in North Arkansas,” Sutton told them, and both turned to him. “It’s secluded,” Sutton shrugged. “Has a stream and the house has its own well, but I can guarantee you there isn’t much food in the house. Alicia ate out more than in. My sister even started two greenhouses in the backyard a few years ago.”

  “Sounds intriguing,” Skannish said, sitting up straight. “If Alicia is there would she mind guests, even though I don’t want to listen?”

  Shaking his head, “No, she’d be thrilled,” Sutton sighed, and glanced at Sarah. “She talks all the time. That’s why I avoid calling her or I should say, answering the phone.”

  “And I apologize again for butting into your family affairs, you are very wise for avoiding her,” Skannish nodded, and Sarah cocked her eyebrow. “We need to plan this out, then make our decision,” Skannish said, looking at each of them.

  “Agreed,” Sarah nodded. “We aren’t fighters or farmers, but we can think.”

  “I disagree that you aren’t a fighter,” Skannish winked at Sarah.

  Smiling back, “Only sometimes,” Sarah admitted. “Let’s shoot and then open any of those doors we haven’t been in, just to see what we have to work with.”

  “I love that little gun,” Skannish cackled, getting up.

  They all left together, walking back to their rooms which only contained bunk beds and wall lockers. It had taken them two days to find sheets, and the only blankets they’d found were green military-issue wool blankets. Grabbing their weapons, they headed to the range they had made.

  “I think we need to keep our guns on us from now on,” Sutton told them, holding the door open.

  “Why? We’re underground and for those who can get to us, these guns won’t do much to battle-hardened troops,” Skannish said, walking in.

  “No, we need to learn to keep them on us at all times outside,” Sutton replied as Sarah walked in and he followed. “I think we need to be used to it before we set off.”

  Setting a bag of magazines down, Sarah nodded, “He’s right.”

  “When he states it like that, only a fool would argue,” Skannish chuckled.

  “We need pistols also,” Sutton told them, putting the sling over his head. “The tactical training manual stresses having a pistol for a backup weapon.”

  “What manual?” Sarah asked before Skannish.

  “It’s a training manual for the Secret Service rapid response teams. I found it in the room with the silencers. If we’re going to base our trip on that, we’ll need a lot more gear,” Sutton told them.

  “Let’s shoot, then fix lunch, and start a list before checking the rooms to see what we’re working with,” Sarah more or less commanded.

  Both just grinned at her before the three lifted their P90s up, shooting cans and other items thirty yards away at the other end of the room.

  After each had shot a few hundred rounds, they headed over to the restaurant. “What’s the surprise for our palates today?” Skannish chuckled, setting his weapon on a table and heading back to the kitchen. They had found rooms full of freeze-dried food and boxes of MREs, and had moved some into the kitchen before the others had left.

  Watching Skannish head to the kitchen, Sarah shook her head at the old man and picked up his P90 off the table. “I see a challenge on the horizon,” she mumbled, following Skannish.

  “Here,” she said, walking past him and pushing the PDW, personal defense weapon, into Skannish’s chest. “I’m fixing my own food because you add too much water.”

  Taking the gun, “I most certainly do not,” Skannish protested, slinging the P90.

  After each had fixed their own meal, they sat down at one of the biggest tables and looked over at Sutton studying an atlas. “My boy, where do you find these things?” Skannish chuckled.

  Giving a shrug, “Desk in the security office,” Sutton answered. “We’re looking at traveling just over a thousand miles heading to Arkansas.”

  “We need to take two vehicles,” Skannish told them before he took a bite.

  “There are only three of us,” Sutton replied, opening a bottle of water.

  “First, we can’t get enough supplies in one vehicle, and what happens if our vehicle breaks down? Unless Sarah is a mechanic because I know we aren’t, we would be up the proverbial creek without a paddle.”

  Draining half the bottle, “Old man, there are millions of vehicles out there we could get if our vehicle broke down,” Sutton chuckled, setting his bottle down. “Well over half the population is dead by now with tens of thousands still dying every day.”

  “Well, he’s right on how much we could carry,” Sarah said, blowing on her food to cool it off. “We won’t be able to go to the grocery store to pick up anything because the grocery stores are empty.”

  Pulling out a notebook, Sutton clicked his pen and started writing. “Even those Suburbans won’t hold the amounts you two are talking about.”

  “What about those big, boxy, delivery-looking trucks?” Skannish asked. “There are some in the Secret Service tunnel and the military tunnel. Those look large enough. There are even motorhomes in the Secret Service vehicles.”

  “Those ‘delivery trucks’ are called MRAPs,” Sarah informed him before she took a bite. “And I’ve never driven anything that big.” They both looked at her in shock because she’d known what they were called. “Remember, I worked for the president and sat in on many briefings. I just know what they’re called, not how to operate them.”

  Swallowing a mouthful, “The concept is the same,” Skannish told her. “You turn the steering wheel to go where you want. ‘D’ makes you go forward and ‘R’ makes you go backward.”

  Making notes, Sutton shook his head. “I’m not riding with you driving,” he stated flatly.

  “Says the man who gets speeding tickets every year,” Skannish huffed. “Those M… whatever, look tough, so bumping a few things won’t really matter.”

  Setting his pen down and looking over at Skannish, “Says the man who’s had three fender-benders just this year,” he huffed. “And they are M-RAPs,” Sutton stressed.

  Chuckling at the two, “Well, there won’t be cops handing out tickets, so we’ll be fine,” Sarah told them.

  After eating, Sutton grabbed the crowbar they normally used to pry the doors open because they had no idea where the keys were. Walking over to the golf cart they’d found on a trailer in the Secret Service tunnel with the presidential seal on each side, they climbed in. “Which way?” Sarah asked.

  Both pointed to the Secret Service tunnel and Sarah took off. “See? You two can agree,” she smiled.

  Chapter Five

  A price tag can still cause sticker shock

  Lying prone on a small knoll just outside the ammo holding area at Ft. Leonard Wood, Wendy peered through the thermal scope scanning the area. Jo Ann and Sally were beside her with thermal binoculars, watching the sides and behind her. A hundred yards away, Arthur and the rest of the group were keeping guard while two track steers with loading forks loaded pallets of ammo onto two flatbed semitrailers.

  This was their third trip and she was glad it would be the last. Wendy had been so happy when Arthur had told her they were going to Ft. Leonard Wood at night. Remembering the ants, Wendy wasn’t even going to argue the why. Since the trip to get medicine, they had been balls to the wall. Not to mention they had added more kids and infa
nts but no adults. Wendy and Arthur didn’t like the adults that wanted to join up and had even sent some older teens away.

  After making runs into towns for supplies, they had started work on expanding the house and putting up the chain-link fence. To Wendy’s and Shawn’s regret, the moat wasn’t the first project worked on.

  The garage had been closed in and turned into the dining room, and the kitchen had been expanded by taking over the old dining room. Outside on the east side of the house a large area had been cleared, and Arthur had dug a hole beside the house at the basement wall to make a new walk-in freezer.

  Then, Arthur had marked out a large area on the ground with his surveying tools that’d looked like a big H. Each leg of the H was over a hundred and sixty feet long and thirty feet wide to make rooms for the kids. The bar between the legs connecting the H was only ten feet wide. Between the house and the H at the mid bar, a spur, also ten feet wide, ran to the side of the house.

  After leveling the area over two days, laying pipe and rebar, Arthur had stopped work on the house and fence, and the group had loaded up. Driving to a concrete plant, Arthur had filled three trucks up and everyone had headed back with him, Wendy, and Shawn driving the cement trucks.

  Reaching the house, everyone had gone back to work and Wendy had been shocked when twenty-seven yards of concrete had only done one leg of the H. The next day, another trip was made to lay the next leg. Then to Wendy’s and Shawn’s relief, work had begun again on the moat while the chain-link fence was finished.

  After working hard on the moat and lining the sides with concrete but still not finished, Arthur had told everyone three days ago, they were going to head to Ft. Leonard Wood. Much to Shawn’s enjoyment, Arthur had asked him to go the night before to scout the base with him.

  After scouting the base that night, they’d come home in the morning and the entire group had headed out that evening. Wendy and Arthur had driven semis with flatbed trailers. Shawn had driven the dually with the gooseneck trailer and Andrea had driven the MRAP with the little ones. After packing the trailers with ordnance, Arthur had told Shawn to drive his semi and for Tony to drive the dually. Shawn and Andrea could both drive the semis; ‘drive’ being a loose term.

  Shawn and Andrea were the only ones tall enough to work the clutch and see over the steering wheel. Otherwise, Wendy knew Arthur would’ve taught the other kids. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that wasn’t on the horizon.

  Leaving the group for an hour, Arthur had then returned driving a heavy hauler semi with an Abrams Tank on the trailer. Remembering the ants, Wendy didn’t even ask why, but she’d wanted to. The fact Arthur thought they needed a tank unnerved Wendy on many levels. To be honest, Wendy almost asked him to go and get another tank.

  Returning home Arthur and Shawn had taken off again, to the National Guard Armory sixty miles to the south. That night, the rest of the group had returned to the armory but this time, Shawn had driven his own semi with a flatbed, along with Wendy and Arthur. What had troubled Wendy was Arthur stacking forty crates of ammo on each flatbed semitrailer. She knew each one weighed over a ton because it’d said so on the side, but Arthur had just brushed her off.

  Returning home, they’d unloaded and slept the whole day before loading up and returning to Ft. Leonard Wood again, where they were now. Watching the track steers load the trailers, Wendy just shook her head.

  Feeling the urgency of Arthur’s movements even after getting his Adderall, Wendy never questioned why or what for. “Remember, he saw the ants coming. He has good reasons. Getting him to explain them all will take time we don’t have,” Wendy mumbled. Then she couldn’t help but sigh because it seemed every time they went out, they always seemed to add at least one more kid. To be honest, she couldn’t remember ever going out and not returning with at least one.

  “Huh?” Jo Ann whispered, scanning around.

  Realizing she’d spoken aloud, Wendy took her eye off the scope. “Just wondering why Arthur wants so many bullets,” Wendy offered, not wanting to explain and worry the twins.

  Lowering the thermal binoculars, Jo Ann glanced back at Wendy. “He’s getting more than bullets,” Jo Ann reminded her. “He got grenades, rockets, racks of guns, boots, and lots of other stuff.”

  Putting her eye back on the scope, Wendy grinned. “I know, baby. I was just wondering out loud, but I don’t really want the answer.”

  Lifting her binoculars up and checking on the group, Jo Ann sighed, “I can tell which track steer Pat’s driving. He needs to go faster. Kirk loads two for each one Pat does.”

  Chuckling, “Pat’s going at the speed he’s comfortable with. He’s almost nine, so we’ll cut him some slack,” Wendy replied, swinging her scope over and saw they were on the last trailer.

  “I see a car coming,” Sally blurted out, making Wendy and Jo Ann both startle.

  “Where?” Wendy panted, already swinging her rifle around.

  “On the road, coming toward us slowly,” Sally answered, but Wendy already had her crosshairs on the truck. It was over a mile away.

  Grabbing her radio, “Arthur, a HUMVEE is coming,” Wendy called out.

  “Copy,” he answered, and they heard in seconds, the soft hum of the track steers engines shutting down in the distance. “How far out?” Arthur asked, spreading the armed kids out.

  “A mile, and the Hummer is moving at a walking pace along the storage rows. It’s searching,” Wendy answered. “Want us to come in and load up?”

  “Hell, no. Not for one Hummer,” Arthur huffed, and Wendy sighed, not really wanting to shoot a soldier for doing his job. But she would, and there was no doubt in her mind about Arthur. “Is it running with lights on or off?”

  “Off,” Wendy answered, watching the Hummer creep closer. “There is a gun on the roof, but nobody’s manning it.”

  “We never saw any troops here when Shawn and I roamed the base, so I’m not worried,” Arthur huffed over the radio. “Like I told you, we didn’t see any people on the base but did see some in town.”

  Watching the Hummer drive along the road that ran next to the feeder roads from the earthen bunkers where the ammo had been stored, Wendy became more anxious the closer the Hummer got to the road Arthur and the kids were parked on.

  Down below and crouched next to a bunker, Arthur reached down and patted Donald and Daisy while he watched for the Hummer to drive down the main road a half a mile away. He heard the faint ticking of the diesel engine long before he saw it.

  Creeping along, the Hummer stopped where the aisle road they were parked on ended. Making a sharp turn onto the aisle road, the Hummer crept toward him and Donald let out a low growl. “Easy,” Arthur whispered, pulling his AR to his shoulder.

  He could see the Hummer with the night vision monocular over his left eye very clearly. His right eye could just see a dark shadow coming. A hundred yards away, the Hummer stopped and Arthur tensed up, flipping his safety off but not aiming at the Hummer yet or dropping his finger to the trigger. He knew the kids were watching him and wanted to follow the rules he had taught them.

  Watching the driver’s door open, Arthur raised his AR up and cocked his head to put his right eye on the thermal scope. With the monocular on his left eye this was a challenge, but one he was getting used to.

  A helmeted figure wearing soldier’s gear and armed with an M4 climbed out and Arthur could see the soldier knew how to handle his weapon. Then the figure whipped his head back, looking inside the Hummer and Arthur heard a faint voice reach him. “Stay inside,” the male-sounding figure told someone in the Hummer, and Arthur’s mouth fell open to hear the whine of kids from the Hummer.

  “They had kids last time,” a small voice protested from inside the Hummer. “Nobody with kids has been bad!”

  “Will you wait!?” the soldier snapped, sticking his head back inside and Arthur put the soldier’s voice at a young man in his twenties.

  The passenger door opened, and two small figures got out. “Kyle, Co
dy, I said wait here!” the young man shouted, forgetting he was supposed to be stealthy.

  Across from Arthur, Shawn was shaking his head while watching the spectacle. “Pops would spank our asses if we acted like that,” Shawn declared, and Andrea nodded beside him.

  “When he got finished, Wendy would give us another and we would be doing double chores for a week,” Andrea added.

  “You need us with you, so they know you aren’t a bad guy,” one of the boys snapped back while the other held the passenger door open.

  Andrea and Shawn both gasped, watching Arthur just take off walking toward the Hummer with Donald and Daisy at his side. On the small hill, Wendy was fighting the urge to shoot Arthur in the leg because she couldn’t hear the argument.

  “You kids need to listen to him!” Arthur barked and the two boys both jumped in the air, letting out yelps and dove back inside the Hummer.

  The soldier spun toward the voice while grabbing his weapon, but saw a man aiming an AR15 at his chest with one hand. Seeing the fedora hat the soldier relaxed, letting his M4 go and he breathed a sigh of relief when Arthur lowered his weapon. “Don’t aim at me and I won’t aim at you,” Arthur offered, coming to a stop at the front of the Hummer.

  Turning his gaze from the soldier, Arthur looked through the front windshield and saw three kids inside. “Kids, you need to listen to him and do what he says. If we would’ve been bad, all of you could’ve died,” Arthur informed them, then turned back to the soldier.

  The soldier wasn’t looking at Arthur. He was looking down at Donald and Daisy staring at him intently. “Donald, Daisy, sit,” Arthur ordered and both dogs relaxed and sat down panting, but continued to stare at the soldier.

  “Um, thanks for helping out with the kids,” the soldier said, finally turning away from the dogs. “Saw your group here night before last.”

  “Then you’re good because we didn’t see you,” Arthur nodded toward the soldier.