Timberline

by T J Reeder

  By pushing it harder in the clear stretches of road, we made Spanish Forks in good order and found a small off-the-road rest area with those park type outhouses and some picnic tables.

  The best part was no people anyplace in sight and with this being a strong LDS-controlled area, I wasn’t very worried about problems, so we spent the night in the living area of the trailer with Buck and gang on picket lines to graze. There was also a pitcher pump, so we filled their water buckets and they were good for the night.

  Molly got to spend the night outside being the guard, which she did well because we spent the night sleeping soundly. By the time we got up, took care of our chores, had some breakfast and loaded up it was well into morning, but we were making such good time I wasn’t worried …yet.

  After we were well on the road, I asked Sandy to look on the map and figure out how far it was to the turnoff to Moab. She looked at me then grabbed the map and after a few minutes said it was 200 miles or less, and it was not on I-70 but off on a smaller state highway- highway191. We would hit I-70 and run it for a while, then turn onto 191 again if we wanted to.

  I asked her if she had any thoughts about what was going on with the Idaho folks, and the ones in Texas or why they didn’t just send an armed convoy over the same route. And what was so important that they needed a secure box armed with thermite, if it was in fact Thermite?

  She thought a bit and said, “Well yeah, I did wonder what it was all about and why they didn’t just send a convoy there.”

  “And what was your answer to all this?” I asked. She was quiet again then sighed and said, “Something’s rotten in Denmark?”

  I told her I had no idea what was going on, but I damn sure wasn’t going to just drive along filled with the warm fuzzies and a firm belief that all of humanity is firmly in my corner.

  We drove along in silence a bit and she finally said, “John, you’re an old fart,” and smiled. So I said, “Yep, I am.” She then asked if I ever heard of Gary Powers. Well of course I had, what old fart hasn’t? So I admitted to it and asked why she was asking.

  She said her dad was talking to some of his Army buddies one night and one mentioned Powers because the Reds were dealing to release some other ‘Spy’ in trade for one of theirs. Anyway, in the conversation it was mentioned that the Spooks in dream land had told him if his plane was going down to push a red button or something before he ejected and after 30 seconds or so it would blow up and destroy all the secrets.

  Well, the plane got hit and was going down and Powers hit the silk without pushing the button and thus caused a lot of big dogs to be red-faced. And the general thought around the table was that if he had pushed that button it would have been the fastest 30 seconds ever. Like maybe the 30 seconds would be instantaneous. No plane, no pilot, no red-faced big dogs. They all agreed that Powers was alive only because he did not push the button!

  Well, I knew just about anybody who had ever dealt with the Clowns in Langley would never push their red buttons but what did this have to do with the price of tea in China?

  She smiled and said, “John honey? Do not pull the purty lil’ ring on that box, ok?” Well now, that made me pull over and motion her to get out of the truck. We walked away about 50 yards, and I made a come on motion with my hands.

  She said that the instant the dude said, “Pull the ring and get away fast” she thought of the pilot looking at that red button and thought, “Yeah, right!” and she had decided if I didn’t smell that rat then she would bring it up. She’s a very smart lady. She also asked why the fancy radio if there was nobody but them to talk to? In fact, the whole thing smelled like some kind of scam and that all we had to go on was their word.

  To say I was proud of her is beside the point and a bit lame since she’s proven daily to be worth her weight in candy bars. But I was proud, very proud. Now, what to do about it?

  I turned back and looked at the truck and walked her a bit further away and said, “We are from now on going to talk bullcrap and write out what we wish to keep private until we either search the truck top to bottom, or kill the power to the radio.”

  We got back in the truck, rolled out and made good time and just talked BS until she held up the map showing me the turnoff to I-70 which was coming on pretty quick.

  I-70 was the usual parking lot of stalled vehicles which we had to work around; not a great number but still slowing us down. In no time at all I saw the turnoff to Moab which was also highway 191 again.

  I slowed down again, made the turn and parked under the overpass while we walked a bit away to talk it out. Basically, from here on we were moving away from whatever it was that had us both edgy.

  I knew our new route skirted the high country we had talked about going thru and would be a better way then up and over the snow country. But it would also take us thru the Tribal Lands of the Navaho. I had no idea how that would go, but so far no Indians had been shooting at me which wasn’t something the white trash could say!

  I know I prefer open country as I’m looking at shooting, and this was open yet we would be in the canyonlands country. We headed out on the new route heading to Moab which was a town of about 5,000 folks before the event. I had no idea what to expect, but we either went thru it or around it.

  We stopped a mile or so from town, unloaded Sandy’s motorcycle and she promptly rode off cross country and circled in to get a view of any welcoming committee lurking about.

  To say I was bothered would be a gross understatement! I was frantic waiting for her but in time I saw her dust coming. One thing for sure, the exhaust system the guys put on the bike worked flawlessly! She arrived with just a whisper.

  She hadn’t been gone two hours and yet I felt like it was two days! She reported that there was a roadblock/ checkpoint just outside town and people were moving around, not hiding. She also saw an American flag flying from a pole.

  Well, sitting here wasn’t gonna solve the problem, so we loaded her wheels and headed down the road slowly with her in her little sniper perch on top of the trailer. When the roadblock became visible, I pulled up about 200 yards from it and stepped out, remaining behind the door as if it was any protection.

  A man walked out with a rifle on his shoulder, so I walked out with my shotgun on mine. We met about half way and after looking each other over he said he was Walter Hobbs and we shook hands. He said he had heard radio chatter about us as he looked the truck over real close and finally he smiled and said, “She’s hard to spot, ain’t she?” I smiled and agreed.

  He asked what we had in mind, so I told him our plan was to make it to Texas and family in a roundabout manner while avoiding any larger towns or cities.

  He said we were welcome to pass thru or spend the night either one, and also that their town was fully functional with all services intact which really didn’t surprise me since so far I hadn’t seen a lot of places that weren’t making out ok.

  He said to follow him into town and if we wanted to have dinner that was fine; either silver or ammo was hard currency. I asked about diesel and he said they had plenty but were not really selling any. OK by me as we were good for fuel, but it would have been nice to top off.

  When I returned to the truck Sandy slipped into the cab and said, “He spotted me, didn’t he?” I said, “Yeah, but he smiled and said he knew to look for you since they knew we were coming from radio chatter.” This made me wonder who else was talking about us.

  We stopped in town and decided to have a decent meal that we didn’t have to cook. The Moon Light Café was clean and busy and smelled like home! I was starving for a big breakfast for dinner and that’s what I got!

  Steak and four eggs over easy with crisp hash browns, biscuits with real butter and real cream in my coffee …it don’t get no better than that. Shorty had the same and then asked for pie! So I had pie too.

  When I got the check it was for 75 cents silver coins. I was amazed to say the least! I left a silver quarter for the waitress who was very surprised. So
we were all happy. I figured with all the silver I had gotten from those good folks in Idaho, we could stay here and eat steak and eggs from now on! But such is life in the Apocalypse. We drove to the local fairgrounds and let Buck and clan out of the trailer and into the pasture to whoop it up or whatever it is that mules do.

  We set up camp and built a campfire where we sat and sipped coffee cooked the good old fashion way- over the fire. After enhancing the brew with some fine JW we talked about what we thought was happening and why.

  Neither of us had any real idea of what was going on, but we both had an itch running down our spines that needed scratching. I could not think of a damn thing that Idaho could have that Texas would be interested in, nor why they would think they did.

  Just before dark, Walter drove up to the camp in a golf cart and after accepting some coffee and a shot of JW which raised my eyebrows and got a smile and the explanation that not all folks in Utah were LDS and not all LDS were pure of heart, which got a laugh from all of us, he settled down and we made some idle chit chat until he got down to business.

  He asked if we had picked up any information about INL on our way thru Idaho Falls. I must have looked lost, because he said he was talking about the Idaho National Laboratory which woke my brain up a good bit, but I was still like everybody else that don’t live in the area. INL is a big part of the Atomic Energy Commission and had been around since 1949. It’s hidden out in the high desert on 890 square miles of well-guarded and very secure sand and scrub.

  I felt Sandy looking at me and I knew we both had the same thought running thru our minds. And that thought had a lot to do with Idaho’s interest in Texas and the other states that had seceded with Texas.

  I ask Walter if he could be more specific, and he got kind of uncomfortable looking, took a heavy drink of his coffee extra and finally said, “Well, we keep hearing rumors that there is something going on out there and nobody’s sure what it is. Hell, nobody’s even sure what they do in some of those places out there.” He said the usual rumors about the place covered everything from building bombs to Acme ray guns and disintegrator cannons depending on who was talking and how much hooch they had taken on.

  I asked what he himself knew for a fact- if anything. He said there was a rumor about some kind of something that was going to be used as a weapon against the new government if they got out of control.

  I found that to be a sobering thought and wondered where Sandy and I tied into this mess- if at all. We were very concerned about the way we were drafted into hauling something to Texas with us and that we might be under the eye of somebody we knew nothing about.

  Right about then I heard a chirping sound from the truck, and ran over to it to see the radio red light flashing and the sound was coming from it. I waved Sandy and Hobbs over, and then turned on the power.

  I keyed the mike and said, “Breaker out there in America,” and got an answer right away. It was from the Idaho Falls bunch asking for a progress report, so I said we were stopped for the night.

  They then asked where we were stopped, which was against every rule we had established before leaving. I said we were on course and doing well.

  The voice was quiet for a bit, then came back and asked if we were still heading to GJ which was a silly code for Grand Junction. I paused for a moment and said their transmission was garbled; to repeat.

  While he did I looked at Sandy who nodded yes, then no with a smile. I told him all was well and we were a go, which was kind of a roundabout way to say yes, and why the question? After a moment, he said the radio signal seemed to be coming from a ways from the route we were supposed to be on.

  I said, “Well yeah, that’s true since we blew two tires on the trailer and limped to Moab and we’re getting some tires and will head out ASAP.” Again the pause, then he said to call when we were back on the right route.

  I said we would be happy to, and cleared off. Now I had no doubt that we were not only being monitored but also being played for whatever reason. And I didn’t care for either.

  We went back to the fire and sat quietly for a bit, and then Walter said he thought we might be wise to make other travel plans. I was in complete agreement, but was stumped at the moment as to what to do. I looked at Sandy and said, “Come on Shorty- you’re the smart one here.” She laughed and said, “It’s about time you understood that!”

  We sat quietly some more, then she cleared her throat and quietly said, “We need to ditch the truck. I think the trailer is OK, but the truck is for sure bugged as we thought.”

  I made the come on motion with my hands and she said, “Lets trade the truck for something else that will run and maybe Walter can find us somebody to drive it towards Grand Junction while we slip away to the south from here.”

  Walter smiled and said, “John, I have a brand new Ar-15 and a sharp buck knife I’ll trade for her.” We all laughed at that, but were still aware of the serious moment. Then I said, “You really have a sharp buck knife?” I got punched.

  Well, Sandy had cut to the chase as fast as a cat squatting on a hot tin roof and she was dead right. I asked Walter if he thought his people would help us out of this mess and he said, “Yep- and even better than you’re thinking!”

  Now he got the come on motion and said, “We have a few folks here that can find your bug and put it into something else, which we could then drive toward GJ as they put it.” And that’s what we did.

  Walter left and after an hour was back with a couple of guys who would never be spotted at a geek convention. Not in a million years! One was an obvious stoner and the other was a big cowboy-looking guy with about a two foot ponytail and the look of a happy bar room brawler.

  This unlikely duo lit into the truck with some gadgets that looked like some kid made them with spit and bailing wire, but it took them less than ten minutes to locate the bugs; one in the cab of the truck and one in the trailer, which really pissed Sandy off. She was calling them a bunch of perverted asswipes and then got to the real bad stuff.

  The only issue was making the transfer to another vehicle without alerting them, but we all agreed that they most likely didn’t have a 24/7 watch on the receiver. Next was to get a replacement vehicle to haul them down the road, plus how to account for driving without any conversation. But again Sandy came to the plate loaded with good ideas.

  We would have a conversation in the morning where she would announce that she had very bad cramps and was going to ride in the trailer and sleep. That was simple! So the non-geeks took the mess out, and placed it in an old truck that Walter had and we were ready for morning.

  After a good breakfast and a conversation by the old truck about the cost of the two tires and mounting, Sandy did her part and the truck headed off to the interstate with a chase car following.

  Walter had a plan that was going to be fun. They would fake a fire fight and an explosion with screams etc., and the bugs would be hooked to a battery left in the bed of a stalled pickup out on the road. Hopefully it would fool the listeners.

  It all sounded to me like it would work, so we headed out with them to add some screaming and shooting from me and Sandy. It was just like a movie with lots of yelling and shooting; Sandy calling out my name and more shots… then quiet and some men talking about how they wished they could have taken the bitch alive, but look at all the good shit and look at the mules! All worth a lot of silver, followed by a voice saying burn it!

  After that we quietly headed back to Moab where we stayed the night again and enjoyed Walter and his wife’s company for dinner at the café.

  Come daylight we were ready to roll, when Walter asked what about the steel box? Good question, and one that needed to be answered, so we headed out of town and took the Not Geeks with us along with some of the local lawmen.

  They worked on the lock for a while, and then called for somebody named Sam. One of the cop types drove away and returned shortly with a small older man who looked like a bookkeeper, but who turned out to be the res
ident celebrity burglar and lock pick.

  He looked at the lock with a small pen light and magnifying glass, then rummaged thru a small pouch and in less than thirty seconds the lock clicked open. After everybody cleared away, the local bomb squad cop who looked to be about fifteen years old slowly raised the lid enough to peek inside, then slowly raised the lid a couple of inches and snipped something, then opened the lid all the way.

  He waved us over and showed us the goodies inside which were a DVD and about a pound of C-4 attached to a pull fuse, which the kid said was about a two second fuse and that somebody wanted the puller to die along with the DVD disk.

  Sandy said, “Hello, Mr. Powers! Welcome to the pearly gates,” which had all but me looking at her like she was speaking something nobody understood. Then Walter smiled and said, “Ah! The U2 pilot?” Sandy said, “Bingo! You get the kewpie doll!” The bomb kid asked what a kewpie doll was, which got a laugh.

  Now we really needed to see what was on that disk that was worth killing us for. We retired to the local city hall, where there was a TV with a player. Walter shooed everybody out but the Sheriff and the County Attorney then put the disk in and hit play.