by John Grit
“It’s almost noon.” Nate appraised the bunker. “This is good enough. Let’s eat.”
“One of us should stand guard while the other eats.” Brian went to the corner where his carbine leaned against the wall.
Sighing, Nate said, “No. We will have a meal together and discuss what we should do next.”
“Well, I don’t see any point in starting a garden here.” Brian slung his carbine on his back. “The weather’s so screwy nowadays it will probably be a waste of time, anyway.”
Nate noticed Brian seemed to be reluctant to be even a few feet from a weapon and knew he was feeling insecure after what happened to their friends. “We won’t have time for that.” He put plates on the table. “With just the two of us, security will be more than enough to keep us busy.” He put wood in the stove and piled tender on dying coals.
“What are we going to have for lunch?” Brian sat at the table, using a stool so he would not have the back of a chair banging against the carbine hanging on his back.
“You put a bullet hole in a can of freeze-dried spaghetti. We might as well eat that before it spoils.”
Brian almost smiled. “Finally, a break from wild hog. How do you know it was my bullet?”
“I can tell the difference between a hole made by a .223 and a .308. Besides, it was on the top shelf and I never shot that high.” Nate filled a pot with water from the hand pump. “What do you think we should do, stay here, or join Mrs. MacKay’s group?”
“What?” Brian looked sick. “Stay here. Why would we want to have to put up with strangers? You never know when they will turn on us.”
“Lost faith in your fellow man, huh?”
“Haven’t you? What if that guy you hit dies? They might hang you for killing one of their people. You broke his jaw. How’s he going to eat? There’s high chance he will die.”
“They didn’t seem too upset about it at the time. He didn’t seem to be too popular around there.”
Brian looked down at his plate. “I’m just saying you never know with people.”
“Actually, you have a point. There is no way to predict how people will react to things. I doubt they will hang me if that idiot dies, though. Joining them would have benefits and added dangers both, no doubt about it. I would not even think of joining any large group, but Mrs. MacKay is as good as they come, I’ve known her all of my life. And the others there seemed okay to me. Mr. Ramiro impressed me with his common sense and seemed to respect Mrs. MacKay. In fact, everyone there did.”
“What about the fact you won’t be the boss around there? It will be you taking orders, not giving them.” Brian looked serious. “They will probably tell me to do things you don’t want me to do.”
Now Nate’s face lost all humor. “A father’s right to raise his son will never die, not as long as people love their children. Any sign they don’t defer to my rights as your father, we’re out of there.”
The pot of water on the wood stove was not hot yet, so Nate sat across the table from his son. “You’re right, though. It will be different there, in many ways. It didn’t seem to me they had a dictatorship set up, but a democracy can be just as bad. They may put justice up to a vote. I mean, they may let the people decide on the punishment if someone steals or doesn’t pull their own weight. A democracy can be nothing more than a lynch mob. We will be safer from external threats there, but the internal threats would increase.”
“Yeah, they might shoot you for falling asleep on guard duty.” Brian was not smiling.
“We could have asked a few questions about how their little commune worked, but I was busy with one thing and another, including designing that waterwheel generator for them.”
“It was obvious who was boss: Mrs. MacKay.”
“Which is a good thing,” Nate said. He rested his hand on his pistol. “Still, our reluctance to trust people is based on experience. If people were angels, there would be little need for government, and certainly no need for law enforcement.”
“What’s the point in even thinking about joining them, then? We did okay alone before. What if Caroline and Deni show up and we’re not here?”
“The point is, we’re in here talking and neither of us is watching to be sure no one is out there sneaking up on a loophole to shoot us as we talk.”
A sudden realization came over Brian. “Yeah. It was easier when there were more people to keep watch.”
Nate’s face softened. “I didn’t want to tell you, but more than likely Caroline lost her leg. She may not have survived. I doubt she’ll be coming back if she did survive. And Deni, well, she was hurt inside. Who knows if she lived or not? And if she did come out of it healthy and able-bodied, the Army is not going to let her go when they need all the manpower they can get. If they did, she’s most likely to go looking for her fiancé.”
Brian’s chest deflated. “I guess. But one of them might comeback.”
“Maybe.” Nate noticed the water was nearly boiling. He got up and put some spaghetti in the pot, guessing on how much to use. It was still thin, so he dumped more into the pot and stirred it with a fork. The smell of cooking food made both of them suddenly realize how hungry they were.
“I guess you made up your mind before you asked,” Brian said. “All you’re doing now is pretending I have a choice in the matter.”
Nate grabbed a rag and put the steaming pot on the table. “You’re getting to be quite a thinker lately.” He used a large spoon to load their plates. “Growing up fast. Perceiving things only a man would. But this is a conversation between us that is exactly what it seems to be.” At that moment, he made a decision. “We will stay here. At least for now.”
Brian’s eyes locked with his father’s. “A week?”
“Longer than that. Unless something happens to change things, we might as well stay here all winter. Come planting time, we will need to decide if we’re farming here or joining them to help with their planting.”
Brian’s eyes lit up. “So I guess you do listen to me sometimes.”
Nate drank water from a glass. “I always listen. Sometimes a father has to override his son’s vote. There’s a reason kids have parents. We’re older and more experienced, and kids need guidance.”
“People have kids just so they’ll have someone to boss.” Brian smiled.
“It’s not as fun as you seem to think. The thing is, once a man becomes a father he can’t take it back. He can’t say he changed his mind and just shirk his responsibilities. He can’t say, never mind, I don’t like this. I quit. Fatherhood is forever.” He watched Brian fork spaghetti into his mouth and hoped it would put some pounds on him. “Being a parent does force a man to put his priorities in place and keep them there.”
~~~~
Brian watched his father work. “We’re going to use up all the fishing line on this.”
“It’s worth it.” Nate stretched the line in a large square that ran just inside the woods line that surrounded the small clearing around the bunker. Each side of the square was a separate line that led back to the bunker and through a loophole on the nearest side. “We’ll use traps to catch fish, if we have to.” He kept the line three to four feet above the ground, so anyone approaching the bunker would walk into it.
Brian kept his eyes busy, scanning the woods for danger, his carbine in his hands. “Well, it’s going to be interesting to see how you make your contraption work. Seems to me the wind will be setting it off all the time.”
“You’ll see. The main problem will be deer walking into it. It’s high enough hogs won’t, but deer are a different matter.” Once Nate had the trip line stretched and ran through the nearest loophole, he began work on the alarm system inside the bunker. “Put your sleeping pad in that back corner under the shelf.” He pointed. “I’ll sleep in the front corner over here.”
“What are we going to use to make noise with, empty cans?” Brian talked as he carried his sleeping pad and sleeping bag to the corner. He grabbed a spare pad that had be
en used by one of the women to make his pad thicker.
“No. It will be a silent alarm. I’m going to fill a small can with water. When someone walks into the trip line, the can will be pulled off the edge of that self and spill water on your face, waking you.”
Brian threw an extra blanket in his corner. “Nice. Are you going to set it up so you take a bath too?”
“Of course. It’s the best way to wake someone from deep sleep. We have four independent trip lines, so we can tell which direction they are coming in from by which can is pulled off the shelf. We will paint them with the letters, E, W, N, and S. I’m leaving plenty of slack on this end so wind blowing trees and brush around and pulling on the lines will not make the cans fall, but someone walking into the line and pulling it a couple feet will.”
Brian considered his father’s words. “You probably already thought of this, but we should tie a cord around the bottom of the cans so they will fall only a foot and not hit us in the face along with the water.”
Nate smiled. “That’s right. I already thought of it, and it is a good idea. Get the cord.”
When they finished, Nate grabbed his rifle. “I’ll go outside and trip the west side line. You watch and see how well it works.”
“Okay,” Brian said, “but we should put something in the cans so they’ll be about the same weight they’ll be when full of water.”
“Why not water? We’ll put a five-gallon bucket under the can.” Nate put the bucket on a chair and made sure it would catch the water when it fell.
Brian pumped water into a pot and filled the cans. “I’ve been thinking about those bastards finding this place by chance. I mean the odds are slim that they just happened onto the bunker.”
“I brought that up earlier, if you will remember. And, yes it’s been bothering me. Still, just because the odds of them happening onto this place are slim, does not mean it’s impossible. I’ve seen a lot of things happen that were harder to believe than that.”
“Like what.”
Nate smiled. “Well, I saw a man get struck by lightning once. The thing was…he was not hurt. I thought he was dead, but he just got up and checked himself over and he said he was okay.”
Brian’s jaw dropped. “Wow. Was he a soldier?”
“No. He was a farmer working in the fields. I was a kid then. Your Grandpa hired me out to him. That old man nearly worked me to death. Thunder storms were coming closer, and I had asked him if we could go to his barn for safety, but he said no, there was too much to do before sundown. Fortunately, he got hit and not me. Anyway, the next day his wife told me he was too sore to work, so he paid for it, despite being able to walk away. He also had to see a doctor and could not work for the rest of the week. I wound up having to work even harder because of it.”
“You didn’t work in thunder storms, though, did you?”
“No. I told your Grandpa about it, and he made it clear that I was not to be out in the fields when there is thunder within hearing distance.”
“I wonder what Grandpa would’ve done if you had been hit after you asked that farmer to go inside.”
“Let’s put it this way: Old Man Harrison was lucky he was the one that was hit by lightning and not me.”
Brian looked out the open door. “Your dad was a rough old cob, but he seemed to go easy on Beth and me.”
“Grandparents are that way sometimes, doting on their grandkids after being tough on their own. Besides, you and your sister were not his children, not his responsibility.”
“I miss him. I miss everyone.” Brian turned his back on his father.
Nate sat at the table. “Let’s sit and rest for a few minutes.”
Brian turned around. “We probably should get this done as soon as possible, before more killers show up.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk?” Nate’s chest rose and held as he looked at his son. “You’ve been through a hell of a lot. Sometimes, it’s almost been too much for me, and I would not hold it against you to need a shoulder to lean on. I will always be there for anything you need.”
Brian shook his head, his face stoic. “I’m okay. Let’s get this done.”
Nate stood. “Okay.” He walked out the door, rifle in hand. They tested all four trip lines, and were satisfied with the results. When Nate walked into the lines, he stopped short of breaking them, as that was not necessary for the test, even though a stranger walking into them would keep walking and break the fishing line.
“What now?” Brian refilled the cans from a pot of water.
Nate bolted the door and sat at the table. “We rework our security measures and settle in for a long stay here.” He motioned toward a chair. “Sit down and rest. We need to talk about a few things.”
“What? Are we going to dig a moat around the bunker now?” Brian sat down and drank from a canteen.
“No.” Nate appeared to be deep in thought. “We do need to strengthen our defenses, though.”
“Well, I guess you’ll think of something. More like ten somethings. What about bombs on tripwires?”
Nate ignored the question. “Those bastards showing up here out of the blue still bothers me.”
Brian leaned back in his chair and stared at his father across the table. “I thought you said—”
“I know. I’m thinking maybe one of those raiders running from the Guard and posse found the bunker and told others about it.”
“But even so, they wouldn’t want to tell everyone about the bunker. They would want to keep the food to themselves. We probably got them all.”
Nate unloaded his pistol to clean it. “You’re right. And that’s damn good thinking.” He reached over and slapped Brian on his right shoulder. “You’ve really been adjusting to this survival stuff, learning fast.”
Brian flinched, but said nothing.
Nate noticed the look on his face. “It will get better, I promise. They’re already rebuilding somewhere. We don’t know what all is going on with the government, but I would bet they are moving now, with growing speed. In the meantime, we have to hang on.”
Brian bit his lower lip. “But you’re still worried more killers might come.”
“Well, we have to be ready for anything.”
Brian got up from his chair and looked out a loophole. “I guess that’s one thing we have learned: Anything can happen.”
Chapter 10
Brian woke up before sunup the next morning to the sound of his father’s voice.
“Time for breakfast.” Nate heated canned wild pork in a pan. The meat sizzled and fried in its own grease; just enough to make it taste like it had been fried and not canned. A pot of water steamed on the stove, ready for four cups of freeze-dried scrambled eggs to be dropped in. He worked by the light of a kerosene lantern, turned down so much he could barely see. Light shining through the loopholes could attract trouble, and he wanted to preserve as much night vision as possible.
Brian sat up on his sleeping pad, stretched and yawned. “Why so early? It’s still dark.”
“We need to patrol the area, see if anyone’s been around. Then we’ll go down to the river and come back up the creek on the way back. I want to be back here in time to contact Mrs. MacKay or Ramiro and check on Kendell and the kids.”
Brian stood and grabbed his carbine. “That means we have to be back by nine o’clock. We’ll have to move fast, and moving fast is not the thing to do when men are hunting you in the woods.”
“No. We’ll do it right.” Nate put two plates of steaming scrambled eggs on the table. “We’re just going to patrol a mile-wide perimeter and then go straight down to the river. There’s plenty of time for that.”
Brian pumped water into two cups and set them on the table. “I guess we should leave as soon as it’s light enough to see.” They ate quickly. In fifteen minutes, they had their packs on and were in the woods.
Nate spent a lot of time looking for boot prints, broken brush, or any other sign people had been in the area. He found
none.
After circling the bunker, they went down to the river. They worked their way upstream, eyes and ears on full alert. A deer distracted Nate for a few seconds, until he saw the white tail bouncing away.
Brian stood at a muddy area on river’s edge. He waited for his father to look his way and motioned toward the ground. Nate moved over and saw it. A boat, probably a flat bottom jon boat, had been eased up on the bank. Both of them ratcheted up their alertness.
“Damn,” Nate whispered, “it’s getting crowded around here.” They moved farther upstream, Nate in the lead, where they found no more evidence men had been in the area. Still, they went back to the bunker worried they could be attacked at any moment.
Brian had the only watch between them. “What time is it?” Nate asked.
Brian checked his wristwatch. “We have fifteen minutes.”
Nate turned the radio on and checked several of the most used frequencies. There was no voice traffic, so he switched to the frequency they used to contact Big Pine, Mrs. MacKay’s farm. He took his load-bearing harness off and sat down to rest. “Pump us some fresh water, will you?”
Brian did as asked. He handed his father a cup and sat down across the table. “I wonder why there are so many people on the river now.”
“Like you, I’ve been thinking about that.” Nate took a drink from his cup. “It’s only a guess, but I think maybe it’s because a few people have been staying in fishing and hunting camps upriver. They’ve been raiding those camps and living on what little supplies they found there. Probably, they’ve been working their way downriver, from camp to camp. If they found someone at the camp, they killed them. Well, it’s been just long enough that they have worked their way down to us. They should drift on downriver. There’s nothing to tip them off that we’re up here so far from the river valley. They will check out our farm, though. They can see the barn from the river.”
“And maybe burn it and the house to the ground, just to be assholes,” Brian added.
“That’s possible. I still have no idea why those who killed the women and children went up the creek and stumbled onto this place, but the river traffic might be caused by what I just explained.” He looked across the table at his son. “Who knows? I’m using logic, but it’s still just a guess.”
