She tried the doors and they were, of course, locked. She tried throwing several rocks at the door window, but it was made stronger than it looked. She thought about shooting the door open and walked back to the truck to get a gun, but then thought better of it. The sound of her shotgun would draw anyone within hearing distance. With the sun setting, she didn’t want any attention tonight.
Chopper jumped in and Amanda drove the truck to the front door at an angle. She nosed in gently until the door broke away from its hinges. If the building still had electricity every alarm would have been set off. As it was, Amanda backed out and she and Chopper got out of the truck to inspect the damage.
The door was now open and Chopper ran in first. Amanda followed when the dog ran around the inside of the building and then came back to her like he was saying it was safe for her to come in.
Like the gas-n-go she’d been in earlier that day, she stayed away from the coolers with food in them. She grabbed a Poweraid that was stacked by the counter. She cracked one open and drank it, a little at first, then half the bottle. It tasted very good to her after drinking just water for the past month.
She loaded the Poweraids into the truck.
Looking through the store was getting harder as the sun was down and the lights from the truck only showed so much inside. She found a bunch of instant meals that needed hot water to make edible. She loaded them in the truck too. She saw hotdogs in one of the coolers just as she was leaving.
She reasoned that the hotdogs might have been in the cooler for 45 days or more, but once the electricity went off, the coolers quit working. But also without electricity, there was no heat in the building. It was still early spring so there was a good chance the hotdogs were still safe to eat.
She cracked the cooler door and sniffed. Inside the cooler it was much colder than room temperature. She didn’t smell any spoilage so grabbed all 14 packages of hotdogs, sausages and cheeses that were in that cooler.
She couldn’t live on noodles alone. She wasn’t sure yet how she was going to cook them, but the thought of hotdogs over a fire right now made her mouth water. She also grabbed up cans of vegetables and fruits to fill out her diet. She stayed away from anything that was more than a month past its expiration date, but put enough in the truck to keep her fed for a week.
Now she needed a place to sleep for the night. She drove past the hotels and motels. They would be big and hollow and not someplace she wanted to sleep. She drove along hoping to find a house but instead she saw something that made her feel a lot better and would answer a lot of her problems.
Across from a strip mall was a Ford truck and RV dealership. She pulled in and drove through the lot. There were nice trucks, but the RVs, if they ran, were what she could use tonight.
All the vehicles were locked, so she drove her HUMVEE through the front door of the establishment and again it worked. She went in and found the keys all hanging on a board. They were numbered, but she figured if she took the first 20, one of them would work on one of the RVs in the lot.
Half an hour later she had one open. It was slow to start, but eventually a puff of diesel smoke spat out of the tailpipe. The RV was six feet longer than her HUMVEE, but had a gas stove and a queen-sized bed. The propane tanks were stored under the stove and when she checked the dials. Both registered full.
It would do for the night.
She boiled some water and threw in four hotdogs. She took another one and broke it in half and tossed part to Chopper. The dog caught it in the air and gobbled it down. Amanda figured he could tell if it was bad and if he couldn’t he’d throw it up in a few minutes anyhow.
The RV she chose was stocked with kitchenware, so she started another pot of water to boil for her instant meals. She found a can opener and opened up some creamed corn and peaches.
The RV was warm inside and the diesel engine was like white noise, very smooth and hardly noticeable. She checked and the fuel gauge read less than a quarter full. She used two of her spare cans on the back of her HUMVEE. That brought the gauge up to nearly half. She figured that would be enough if the truck was just idling for the night.
The RV must have been a display model because it had all the amenities. She turned the water on in the sink and it flowed and when she tested the toilet blue water swirled and flushed. She didn’t know anything about the septic system, but for the night she was happy to not have to use out of doors. There was even a roll of soft toilet paper on the roll, neatly folded at the end, like in a hotel room. Towels hung beside the small shower and there were wash cloths in the rack on the wall above the vanity sink.
Her meal was simple and the hotdogs tasted good to her after eating MREs and snack food for the past three weeks. The macaroni and cheese instant meal with the side of corn filled her up. The peaches, while not fresh, were acceptable and washed down with more Poweraid. For tonight, it was a meal fit for a queen.
Chopper sat and watched her as she ate, so she flipped him the other half of the hotdog she’d given him earlier. When she was done, she put the dirty dishes in the sink and filled it with water. If she was leaving this RV in the morning, she saw no reason to do dishes. She’d leave it and a mystery to anyone in the future who might come across the RV.
She went back outside and let Chopper do his business while she brought the guns inside the RV. She then chose a change of clothes and the winter jacket she’d found earlier. It was cooler now and would probably fall below freezing tonight and in the morning Chopper was going to want to go outside, so she wanted to be ready.
Chopper came back to the RV after running around the parking lot while Amanda moved the guns, clothes, food and drinking water for in the morning to the RV. He must have run himself out because he came back with his tongue hanging out and drooling.
Amanda locked the HUMVEE and then made sure the doors to the RV were locked as well. She let the truck run to provide heat and set it so the two blankets on the bed would keep her warm enough.
She climbed into the bed and Chopper climbed up and lay beside her. She knew the dog was dirty and had mats in his short fur, but she thought if something bothered the dog in the middle of the night, he’d be able to wake her in time for her to get to her guns.
It was a race to see who fell asleep first, but Amanda thought she won.
* * *
The Anniston Army Depot was in shambles. Steel buildings were ripped apart, heavy trucks smashed into tracked vehicles, passenger cars and trucks stacked up in corners where the hurricane force winds pushed them and collapsed administrative buildings.
Nature was doing what she could to reclaim the depot as well. Grasses had grown through cracks in the acres of concrete. Trees that had been fallen by the winds covered some buildings, the heavy rains and probable tornadoes rearranged the real estate, and flowers were starting to bloom on roofs that were now nearer the ground, covering the debris that used to be repair shops.
On the first drive through the depot, they had to navigate concertina wire that threatened to shred tires and foul the vehicles and the larger trees that had been felled. Jerry remembered Cleve telling him that the hurricane that had come through was actually two different storm cells that had met up in the gulf and headed northward. The circular storms moved with incredible speed starting with the panhandle of Florida, going north through Alabama and Georgia then headed east to the coasts of the Carolinas and Virginia. Even from space, Cleve had said they saw swaths of destruction left by dozens of tornadoes that were spawned from merged storm cells as well as the storm itself.
The depot had suffered as much as everywhere else in the south, but nature was taking back what man had once built. It might take years or decades, but she’d get it back.
Everyone dismounted when Jerry found a parking area that was large enough to give them room to park next to each other.
“Cleve, Buff, Tia, this is your area of expertise, we’ll watch your back.”
Two hours of walking around the area had gotten the
m nothing they could use for improving their defense of the farm. They avoided entering any buildings at first, zombies being something no one wanted to face after the terror and pure savagery they’d shown the night before. They looked for recent tracks from anything that might be a predator or other humans, but even those were missing. This place appeared to be deserted except for small wildlife and birds.
They found some equipment, HUMVEEs, 2-1/2 ton trucks, tanks and Bradleys, but they had all been parted out, buried in mud, or damaged beyond the party’s ability to repair. They worked systematically through the equipment graveyard. It was depressing for all of them who thought they would find a cornucopia of weaponry when all they were finding was rusting hulks and useless steel.
Jerry was about to call the mission a wash. They’d found nothing of use and wasted a morning. He was walking back to the SUVs with the others and kicked a piece of debris. Underneath was a large sheet of textured paper and Jerry pulled at it thinking it was probably just another piece of paper from the mountains that every military unit spit out. The corner ripped off in his hand and he turned it over. It looked like the corner of a map.
Everyone else was continuing to walk back to the SUVs, but Jerry used a stick to dig out more of the piece. There was clear plastic protecting the paper under the debris and he was able to pry more of the map out.
He stood up after looking at the map for a moment. “Ahh, guys. I think we’re looking in the wrong place.”
It was a map of the installation. They were looking in the wrong place. The map showed bunkers, similar to how Jerry had built his, north of them but hidden by the trees and re-growth of nature. They’d been excited before so they reined in their enthusiasm. For all they knew, the bunkers were empty or flooded or whatever was stored in them was useless for defense. What good would and Abrams tank do without ammunition and no one knowing how to drive it? It would be a mobile bunker at best, but the fuel consumption would be too high to sustain the 60-ton behemoth that it would take 500 gallons of diesel to fill.
It took 20 minutes to weave their way through to the bunker areas. Jerry stopped and was disappointed by what he saw. It was all overgrown with weeds and looked just like the rest of the installation. They all walked up to the first bunker and it took everyone to move the fallen tree out of the way. The steel door was locked with a heavy-duty military-grade lock.
“Not a problem,” Eddie said, going back to his SUV. He pulled out a portable plasma torch and generator and plugged everything in. “I figured this place may be secure so I brought this along just in case. That scrounger Jamal found it.”
Eddie had the lock off in less than a minute and they waited until he shut down the generator to open the doors.
It was an Apache helicopter and it appeared to be in good shape. Jerry looked at Cleve and Buff. Both were pilots but fixed wing, not helicopter pilots. Jerry ran for the radio and called Kayla. “Can you fly a helicopter?” he asked when she answered.
“If you put wings on a washing machine I could fly it,” she told them.
“Ummm, Kayla, dear. It’s a helicopter. It doesn’t have wings,” Jerry said over the radio.
“I have more than 2,000 hours in helicopters. It’ll do.” She told him, shutting him up.
They found six more helicopters, but with only one pilot, the others were just metal paperweights and just as useful. They moved to other bunkers and found the tanks they’d expected to find. While it would have been nice to have one of these on the farm, its use was limited. The 120 mm main gun would likely do more damage than a hoard of vigilantes and no one really knew how to arm, aim and use the tank.
Other bunkers were empty and Jerry looked at his watch. The morning was gone and all they had for their trouble was one possible helicopter. He decided one more set of bunkers and then they’d call it a day.
Eddie cut the lock off the new bunker and Buff opened the door. The military men and Tia all smiled.
A Stryker vehicle was inside and it looked as pristine as everything else in the bunkers.
A Stryker is an eight-wheeled, 16-ton fighting machine that was designed for a fast-moving and mobile force in an urban environment. It was armed with the M-2 machine gun that could be fired from inside or outside the vehicle. It was armored and could drive almost anywhere and best of all, it drove just like a car. It had automatic transmission, a steering wheel and pedals just like the SUVs.
Another bonus was its diesel motor. Jerry had made note of the 5,000 gallon diesel storage tanks. He hoped they were full because if this Stryker started and ran, they’d need fuel to get one of them to the farm.
They found 14 Strykers and were able to get six started. All had been fueled and were topped off. Jerry had the group split up because, while the Strykers were cool, without ammunition, they were nothing but big armored trucks.
Tia found the ammunition bunker. It was filled with every type of ammunition they could hope to use. “We have got to come back tomorrow with a bigger truck and get as much of this as we can before someone else gets here.”
Eddie suggested they spend the night here and have Kayla bring the Ford and a trailer in the morning. Jerry agreed that now that they had the locks off the bunkers, especially the ammo dump, they’d best not let it fall into someone else’s hands, no matter how long the odds of someone finding it.
Jerry called the shelter and told Kellie their plans and asked for three more drivers and Kayla to bring the Ford and a trailer. The group at the Depot spent the evening finding the right ammo to stock in the Strykers and the main gun of the Apache. They had no idea what the rocket pods used for ammunition so left them empty. Buff did find an AVGAS tank and topped off the helicopter with aviation fuel and charged its batteries. He hoped it worked and Kayla could fly it.
They set up a make-shift camp for the night and talked of strategies. They looked through more bunkers. They found one that wasn’t locked and inside were MREs with the skeleton of a soldier nearby. It was clear the soldier had taken his own life. They didn’t disturb the body, but took the MREs and closed the door to the bunker.
That evening, they told stories around a campfire like people had done for hundreds, maybe thousands of years.
They told stories of friends and families in their pasts, of people who had influenced them and famous people they’d met.
“I was six years old when I knew what I wanted to do,” Cleve told them. “I met Colonels Jack Lousma and Gordon Fullerton that year.” The others sitting around the campfire had no idea who those men were.
“I’m not surprised you don’t remember their names, but to me, they were gods.
“My dad was an Army sergeant assigned to White Sands Missile Range back in 1982. He was with the 259th Military Police Company as a platoon sergeant. None of you probably remember, but STS-3, the space shuttle Columbia had to land at White Sands for some reason and my dad’s platoon got to work with the traffic control.
“My mom and I saw the Columbia come down through the mountains and land. I was using my dad’s binoculars and it was the coolest thing that I’d ever seen. I remember the dust it kicked up on the runway and the parachute that came out of the back of it.
“I don’t know what strings were pulled, but dad and his men got to meet the pilot and commander of the shuttle. He took me with him and when I saw the two Air Force men in their flight uniforms, I felt like I’d been given an extra Christmas. Mom and I had to sit apart from the soldiers when the spacemen came in, but I was no less awed.
“I watched as my dad shook their hands and I knew right then I wouldn’t become an Army man like my dad, but an Air Force officer so I could fly in space just like those men did.
“My dad was pleased when I got into MIT and did undergraduate work in electronics before joining the Air Force. I flew more than 400 missions during the first Gulf War before becoming a test pilot at Wright Patterson.
“After six months of that, I was accepted by NASA and they helped pay for my Masters Degree a
t MIT. I had hoped to fly on the shuttle, but it retired before I got the chance.”
Eddie was chuckling at some memory.
“Something about that tickle your funny bone, Eddie?” Cleve asked the young man.
“Sorry, Cleve, but for some reason I pictured you as that guy Walowitz from that show Big Bang Theory. His character designed the Walowitz Waste Disposal System aboard the International Space Station and had a Masters from MIT,” Eddie told them.
“Oh, yea, I heard about that. Well, I didn’t work as a space plumber, I worked mostly in the Harmony Node, completing the cross connecting of the European Columbus and Japanese Kibō laboratories and troubleshooting the electrical issues the station had been suffering because of the poorly constructed solar panel connections.”
The smile Eddie had on his face flattened out as Cleve, who never flaunted his intelligence, made it clear he wasn’t just a fly boy. Eddie’s level of respect for the man went up several notches.
There was a lingering silence as everyone thought about the station that continued to orbit above them and the last man there, Col. Rustov.
“I met someone famous,” Buff said. “I met the former vice-president of the United States.”
“What was he like?” asked Jerry, knowing to whom Buff was referring.
“Vulgar,” Buff said, then smiled. “He was meeting some of us scientists who were going up to the space station at a buffet NASA was throwing for us.
“Now I’m a former Marine and I’ve heard course language all my life, but I thought the vice-president was out of line when the director said the buffet was open.
“Right after the director said that, the vice-president said ‘let’s git it and shit it.’ I knew right then I’d never vote for the guy. After all, there were ladies present.”
Everyone laughed. They’d heard stories like the one Buff relayed about the language politicians used in public and in private and how it was sometimes very different.
“I never met anyone famous,” Jerry said. “But I did know a man who is responsible for all of us being here today.”
Hell happened (Book 2): Hell Revisited Page 15
