by A. American
The only disadvantage he thought they’d encounter later on was ammunition, but that hadn’t come true as of yet. In fact, they hadn’t yet had to use their weapons. He and Carlos had a few altercations, but none ever came to gunplay, and for that, he was grateful.
On his vest he carried one sheath knife, a 5.11 CFK, and three magazine pouches, one for each pistol and one for the M4, a Daniel Defense V3 he would take with him on any excursion. Of course, he owed his entire kit, minus the Sig, to Carlos.
Using the basking light of the morning sun, he finished checking his gear and readying himself for another day trip. Today, he and Carlos would push the furthest they had ever gone and go to the southern tip of Brawly, a town north of them. They didn’t know what they’d find, but the one resource that would be an issue for them soon was water.
Life in the desert was made bearable by electricity. All the major cities that many were familiar with—Las Vegas, Phoenix and others—were now drying up.
Neal and Carlos both knew their days were numbered in El Centro, but the question remained where to go next?
Feeling confident and ready, Neal entered his house to kiss Karen and Beth goodbye. Like many other rituals, this was one of the most important ones.
Embracing Karen, he squeezed her and whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Karen replied softly.
Neal knelt and faced Beth. He gazed into her eyes and with a gentle hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ears. “You and Mommy be good.”
“Okay.”
Neal pulled her close and, like he did with Karen, said, “I love you, never forget that.”
“I love you too.”
He stood and looked at the only thing that mattered to him. He took a mental picture of the two standing there and stored it in his memory. “I’ll be back just before dark.”
“Okay,” Karen said and nodded slightly.
“You know—”
“I know what to do,” Karen said, interrupting him. “Now go, the sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll return to us.”
“Love you guys,” he said and exited the house. Outside, he found Carlos leaning against the car, his arms crossed.
“Were you waiting long?” Neal asked.
“Nope, how’s the fam?”
“Good and yours?”
“Same. Hop in, we’ve got a long ride ahead of us,” Carlos said and slid into the driver’s seat of what he affectionately referred to as his ‘baby’, a black 1966 Lincoln Continental.
Neal got in and took a deep breath. “How is it that this thing always smells so good? Do you have a lifetime supply of air freshener?”
“Something like that,” Carlos replied, turning the key. The engine roared to life.
Carlos pulled away from the cul-de-sac. He weaved around the abandoned cars he and Neal had placed in the street to slow down the traffic going into their cul-de-sac. He pulled up just shy of the stop sign at the end so Neal could get out.
Neal exited the car and pulled away a homemade spike strip. Carlos pulled forward. Neal laid the strip back down and ran to the car.
“You ready for a good day?” Carlos asked as Neal sat down.
“I get so nervous leaving them here,” Neal lamented.
“Me too, but Natalie’s old man is a good shot. He was a jarhead back in the day.”
“I know your father-in- law is a solid guy, but I still hate it.”
Carlos patted Neal on the leg and said, “They’ll be fine.” He put the car back in gear and exited the neighborhood by taking a hard right.
“You know, I think this might be pointless,” Neal said, his gaze scanning the road ahead.
“We need water, it’s that simple,” Carlos said.
“But what about fuel, you said that soon the gas will start to go bad.”
“It will.”
“Then shouldn’t we pack up and go.”
“Go where?” Carlos asked.
“South, maybe Central America,” Neal replied.
“You’ve heard the rumors like I have. If we happen to make it to the Mexican checkpoints, we’ll only be turned around, and that’s a big if when saying we’ll make it. The road bandits or a roving cartel will probably get us before then. Going south is too risky.”
“But those are just rumors,” Neal said.
“Then why don’t we just go see if the feds will help us at one of those camps,” Carlos declared.
“Screw them.”
“So you’d rather take your chances with a cartel than your own government?”
Frustrated, Neal remained quiet, his eyes going back and forth on the road.
Carlos weaved the large Lincoln around the abandoned cars that riddled the roadway. “You good?” Carlos asked.
“You know, we could make a run for my sailboat in San Diego. It’s big enough for all of us. We could set sail for South America or Hawaii.”
“C’mon, Neal, you even said you weren’t the best sailor and that boat was a bit too big for you to handle.”
“Taking that boat seems less risky than our other options.”
“That’s if it’s even there anymore.”
Neal sighed.
“So Ricky got upset with me again this morning. He wants to come with us so badly, but you know Natalie.”
“You can’t win.”
“Nope.”
“I’m getting really nervous. We’ve got to make a plan, commit to it, and then act,” Neal stressed.
“I agree.”
Neal brought his right hand to his mouth and was about to nervously chew his nails but stopped short of doing it. It had been years since he quit that habit, but the circumstances rekindled the urge. He put his hand down and gripped his rifle.
“First thing we need to do before we plan any move is get more water.”
“It’s the stuff of life, they say,” Neal joked.
“That it is.”
Neal caught sight of a road sign that read BRAWLEY 9 MILES. “Let’s just pray we find what we need and get home safe.”
“Hey, my friend, have I ever let you down?” Carlos asked.
“No, but we’ve gone for too long with nothing happening. Our luck has to run out,” Neal worried.
“Luck? I don’t believe in luck.”
“Well, whatever you want to call it, we need more of it.”
Carlos patted Neal’s shoulder, winked and said, “We’ll be fine, brother, we’ll be fine.”
Two Miles South of Brawley, CA
“Carlos, slow down, slow down!” Neal barked.
Carlos did exactly as he asked and more as he brought the car to a gentle roll before stopping in the middle of the road.
“There, up there, you see it?” Neal asked, pointing to a glimmer in the middle of the road just on the horizon.
Carlos leaned over the steering wheel and squinted. “Where?”
“The glimmering straight ahead.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“Are you serious?”
Carlos leaned further as if the extra inch would bring what he couldn’t see into focus.
Neal looked at him and asked, “Are you fucking blind?”
“I, um, well, my long distance vision isn’t the best,” Carlos admitted.
“Christ, man, there’s a roadblock up ahead, I bet my life on it.”
Carlos reached in the backseat and picked up a small set of binoculars. “When in doubt, zoom in,” he joked, placing the optics to his eyes. “Damn, you’ve got eagle eyes, bro.”
“Here, let me see,” Neal said, taking the binoculars from him and looking. “I knew it. I thought I saw something besides an abandoned car sitting up there.”
Carlos didn’t hesitate to act. He turned the car around and headed south.
“Where to?”
Carlos didn’t reply but instead asked, “Did you see that county road? I can’t remember what it’s called, but I swear we just passed it.”
“Yeah, um, Keyston
e.”
“We’ll box around and see if the roads on the west are also blocked,” Carlos said.
“Why wouldn’t they be?” Neal questioned.
“There it is,” Carlos said, turning the car hard right and accelerating.
They drove a mile and were fast approaching another major intersection.
“Looks clear,” Neal said.
The flat and even desert terrain made visibility good, but if they could see, so could anyone else.
Without notice Carlos slammed on the brakes. The huge Lincoln came to a screeching halt just at the intersection.
“You see something?” Neal asked.
“Yeah, I do,” Carlos replied, his head facing left.
“What?” Neal asked as his head and eyes scanned for the possible threat.
Carlos turned the wheel hard left and slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The car lunged left and spun around until it was in the eastbound lane.
“Where are you going?” Neal exclaimed.
“I’ve got an idea,” Carlos answered as he turned right and stopped just outside a chain-link gate.
Neal looked up and said, “Spreckels Sugar?”
“You see that?” Carlos excitedly said.
“So what?”
“You don’t see what I see?” Carlos asked.
“I see a sugar high in my future, but I’m sure someone has raided this place already.”
“You’re right, I’m sure it has been.”
“What’s going through your mind, Carlos?” Neal asked.
“There’s a very special ingredient you need in order to make sugar from beets,” Carlos said, driving through the open gate.
“Ahh, I got it, water,” Neal said, his eyebrows raised.
“Yep, potable water, and there’s a good chance others may not have thought about it. I bet they kept water in holding tanks, big ones. While we’ve been driving around looking for bottled water, we completely overlooked finding it in places like this,” Carlos said as he drove towards the rear of the property, passing the equipment that once hummed with life. The place was a relic of a time gone by, a testament to man’s ingenuity and scalable manufacturing.
While Carlos’ focus was on finding the tanks, Neal’s attention was on ensuring he returned home safe and alive, but mainly alive.
“Right there, I bet you that’s a holding tank,” Carlos said with glee. He pulled the car alongside a massive tank, the first in a row of three. The tanks were huge, standing thirty-five feet tall with a diameter of at least a hundred and twenty feet.
Not concerned with his own safety, Carlos jumped out of the car and began to race around the tank, looking for anything that would identify it as potable water.
Neal got out, but he scanned the area, looking for anything suspicious, but nothing jumped out. It was obvious that others had been to the plant, but their attention had been focused on the warehouses.
“Bingo!” Carlos hollered from the far side.
Neal made his way to Carlos and found him with his arms outstretched, attempting to hug the tank wall. Just above him was a large sign that read POTABLE WATER.
“But is there anything in them?” Neal asked.
Carlos’ face scrunched, as he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He raced to a small valve he had seen earlier. It was nothing more than a simple ball valve that teed off a much larger pipeline coming from the base of the tank. He turned it slowly and instantly water gushed out. Carlos cupped his hands and brought his nose to the water. “Smells fine.”
Neal stepped up behind him with anticipation.
Carlos pressed his eyes closed and sipped it.
“Well?” Neal asked.
Before he opened his eyes, Carlos sang out, “It’s good. Hell, it’s better than good; it’s the best water I’ve ever tasted.”
Neal placed his hands under it and cupped a mouthful of water. Carlos was correct, it was good, straight from the deep aquifers that lay beneath the old desert. “There has to be more places like this. We just gave ourselves months if not years of water.”
Carlos looked at each tank and said, “These have to be forty-thousand-gallon tanks. I’m not sure if they’re full—heck, I bet they’re not—but we have water, my friend.”
“But how do we transport it back? Do we come here daily with water jugs?” Neal asked.
“No, that’s small fry. We need a tanker or a water bull that we can tow,” Carlos answered.
Neal looked at the Lincoln and said, “We could use a truck too.”
“That old girl can tow anything. She has a big ole V8 in her,” Carlos proudly declared.
“That may be, but any significant weight on the rear end will bottom the car out.”
“Shit, you’re right. Well, in the meantime we’ll just come here daily, fill up the biggest jugs we can find, and if we come across a running truck, we’ll take it.”
“We don’t take anything from anyone, maybe we trade,” Neal said, reminding Carlos of the pact they had made early on not to steal from others. They fully believed in salvage rights, but theft was not an option.
Carlos squinted and said, “The code, I remember.”
“We have to maintain our integrity as best we can,” Neal again reminded him.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s fill up some jugs now and get home. We need to celebrate.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“If it were not for hopes, the heart would break.”
– Thomas Fuller
Guatay, CA
The door to her eight-by-eight room creaked open, bringing in the glow of the late afternoon.
Charlotte naturally scurried towards the corner and cradled her knees to her chest in fear of who might step through.
Drew, the man who so far had offered kind words and a gentle touch, walked in and stopped two feet from her. “Hi, Charlotte.”
She looked at him with her wary eyes but didn’t reply to his greeting.
To appear less ominous and frightening, Drew lowered himself and squatted. “I got you something.”
Charlotte looked but saw nothing.
“Do you want to see it?”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Hope told me you’d want it, so I found it,” Drew said as he reached into his jacket and produced Charlotte’s diary. He held it in his hand but didn’t offer it to her.
Charlotte’s eyes grew twice their size at the sight of it.
“I also found a pen and a pencil, not sure which you preferred,” Drew said with a smile.
Charlotte sat up as tears began to flow.
Seeing this, Drew extended his arm with the diary so she could take it.
As swift as a cobra, Charlotte smacked it out of his hand. “Why, why did you take it?”
Drew recoiled from her response. “I don’t understand.”
“I left it at the house for my mom to find. I left it there on purpose so she’d find it and then come find us!”
“But Hope said -”
“I don’t care what she said. She’s a stupid little girl!”
“I was only trying to help.”
Laughter erupted from the hallway beyond.
Drew craned his head and hollered, “Shut up!”
“Fucking moron!” a voice hollered back.
“Take it back, take it back and put it where you found it!” Charlotte screamed.
“I can’t.”
“Why not? You picked it up, now go take it back.”
Drew inched closer to comfort her but was stopped when she kicked him.
“Leave me alone.”
“I was only trying to help, nothing more. Hope told me you’d want it.”
“If you want to help, you’ll take it back and leave it exactly where I left it.”
A man came to the doorway. “Drew, enough of this good-guy bullshit.”
Drew stood up and walked over to the man.
Charlotte couldn’t quite make out the man Drew was talking to, but his voice was familiar.
In fact, it sounded like the man her father was talking with just before being shot. She leaned to one side, but still he was obscured by the shadows.
Both men mumbled and Drew turned to walk back. The other man stood for a moment then walked away as fast as he had appeared.
Drew approached Charlotte and assumed his crouching position a few feet from her. “Charlotte, do you know why we came to your house that day?”
“To kill my dad.”
“No, it wasn’t like that.”
“Then why?”
Drew opened his mouth, but no words came out. He deliberately paused and thought just how he’d phrase what he was about to say. “Your father, he was friends with Tony.”
“Who’s Tony?”
“Oh, Tony, he’s my boss, the man who was just here.”
Charlotte leered at him and snapped, “He was the man who killed him.”
“Yes, yes, he did, but he had good reason.”
“What did my dad do to deserve being killed?”
Drew could see the anger rising in Charlotte, so he tried to stem it with something she’d want. “How about we make a deal, huh? How about you tell me something, and I’ll let you see your sister, heck, I’ll even make sure you two live together.”
The mere mention of Hope brought Charlotte to her knees. “I want to see my sister.”
“I know you do, so let’s make that happen, but I need you to help me first. You help me, I’ll help you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Your dad and my boss were old friends—”
Charlotte cut him off and said, “That’s not true. I never saw your boss but once before that day.”
Drew chuckled and said, “How about you close your mouth so I can speak? There’s a lot about your father you’re not aware of. Maybe he wasn’t the type of friend who came over for Sunday dinners, but I can assure you they both knew each other and had a few drinks now and then together.”
“But—”
This time it was Drew who silenced her. “Ssh, let me finish. Your dad was Tony’s CPA; he helped Tony manage his money before all this happened. He did a good job, your dad, hell, Tony really liked him a lot, but then all this stuff happened, and just as fast as the lights went out, Tony’s cache of gold went missing. Now that made Tony a bit angry, as gold became even more valuable.”
