Breakout (Final Dawn)

by Maloney, Darrell

  “So, in a few years, we’ll regenerate the livestock and may have enough to feed the whole city.”

  “Yes. And they were honest about their motives. They said they wanted livestock to become plentiful again, not only to help out the city of San Antonio, but also to protect their own herd. They realize that having the only cows and chickens in the area would put a big target on their backs if the word ever got out.”

  “Did they give you all the chicken feed too?”

  “No. I stopped at a Feed and Seed store outside of Kerrville. I broke into the place and stole the feed and the hay seed, and the roll of chicken wire. But I doubt they’ll miss it. I doubt the store will ever open again.”

  “Did you say hay seed?”

  “Yes. But that’s a story for tomorrow. Right now let’s figure out what to do with these chickens.”

  Chapter 27

  The chickens spent the night in the abandoned house that once belonged to the Castro family. The Castros had finally had enough and opted to commit suicide, like hundreds of thousands of other San Antonians.

  They’d told Frank of their plans ahead of time, but Frank was unable to talk them out of it. In fact, he understood their logic. When faced with what scientists believed at the time could be a freeze lasting five to ten years, they knew they’d either live a miserable life, or die a slow and agonizing death.

  Frank and Eva chose to tough it out. But they couldn’t fault anyone for taking an easier path.

  Before he died, Castro made a deal with Frank.

  “Bury my family and me in our back yard. And say a prayer over our graves. And then feel free to use the house and whatever is in it to help you and Eva and the others survive.”

  The ground, of course, was frozen solid as a rock. Digging graves was impossible. So instead, Frank laid the family on blankets on the ground, and then buried them under a mountain of bricks he’d gotten by knocking the façade off the front of the house with a sledge hammer.

  He even made little white crosses for each of them, and did indeed pray over their graves.

  The house hadn’t been used much since that day, except to scrounge for whatever supplies the Castros left behind.

  But it did make for an excellent chicken coop, temporarily, until they could build a more permanent one.

  The following morning, Frank, Tony and Jesse were in the driveway of the Castro house making plans.

  “Okay, this house is perfect. It’s in the middle of the block, so no one driving down the side street will ever know we have chickens. We can open the garage door and take the vehicles out, and everything else for that matter. We’ll line the garage door opening with plywood on the bottom, and chicken wire on the top. That’ll give it some ventilation and keep the birds in. And once we’re done, we just spread some chicken feed on the garage floor and attract them out of the house. We can access the coop from inside the house to gather eggs and feed and water them.”

  “Sounds like a good plan, Frank. But you never did explain what you’re going to do with the hay seed.”

  “Okay, I brought a bag each of Timothy hay and alfalfa seeds. I read the bags, and it doesn’t have to be planted every year like corn and wheat. Once it’s planted it’ll come up every year on its own.

  “We’ve already dedicated the front yards for our subsistence crops. Corn on one side of the street and wheat for the other side. And we were going to use the back yards for the other stuff. The tomatoes and potatoes and carrots and such.

  “But I’ve talked to the girls, and they don’t need that much space to grow the miscellaneous stuff. They say that ten back yards is more than enough space. So they’re going to grow their garden in the back yards on the east side of the block. And we’ll plant hay in the back yards on the west side of the block. We’ll take down the fences between the houses so the cattle can wander freely between the yards to graze and such. And with ten yards full of hay, almost an acre and a half, there should be enough hay to feed a handful of cattle all year around.”

  “These people you met up there, Frank. How did they manage to keep animals alive all this time?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought to ask them. And I’m not sure I would have anyway. They asked me to keep their secret to protect them. And I guess it’s the least I can do for their offering to help us.”

  “When are you going back for the cattle?”

  “Not until the hay is knee high. That’s going to be awhile. I figure we’d plant it first, and then while it’s growing we can strengthen the fence line. The privacy fences are high enough to keep people from seeing in, but I don’t think they’re strong enough. If a three hundred pound cow leans up against it, I’m not so sure it wouldn’t topple right over.”

  “Strengthen it how?”

  “I’m going to make some runs to home depot in the pickup. Bring back a bunch of fence posts and bags of Sacrete. And some post hole diggers. When they built the fences they put the posts eight feet apart. I’m going to add an additional post between the original posts, so that they’re only four feet apart. That should double its strength.”

  “That’s a lot of fence posts.”

  “Yes, but I don’t have to do it all at once. It’ll take the hay two months or more to grow that high, so I can do three or four posts a day and get it done in time.”

  “I’ll help. I’ve never been afraid of hard work. What else do we need to do?”

  “Well, I wanted to ask if you’d help me take the ham radio tower out of the Castros’ back yard and reinstall it in mine. My friend John, the ex-cop, gave me a frequency number and a call sign so we can keep in touch. He said we can talk as long as it’s in short bursts and as long as we don’t mention anything about the animals.”

  “What do you mean, short bursts?”

  “Broadcasting for only a few seconds at a time. That prevents anyone who has tracking equipment from getting a fix on their location. I personally think that’s overkill on their part, but that’s the way they want it. And they didn’t have to help us at all, so I don’t mind playing by their rules.”

  “So how do you communicate if you have to keep it short?”

  “John said he’d come across and say something like, ‘Frank Furter, if you’re listening, I need to know when you’re coming for a visit.’”

  Jesse laughed.

  “Frank Furter?”

  “Yes. And he’s Johnny Bravo. We needed names no one else would use.”

  “Well, I think those names are safe.”

  “Anyway, he’ll send a brief message that will only keep him on air for a few seconds. I’ll wait a couple of hours and then respond with something like, ‘Johnny Bravo, if you’re out there, I’m coming to visit you in three days.’ Then he’ll wait a few hours and broadcast ‘Frank Furter, be careful and have a safe journey’”

  “And what will all of that accomplish?”

  “It takes the tracking equipment a little bit of time to pinpoint a broadcast location. By only talking for a few seconds, it doesn’t give them that time.”

  “What if you’re not at the radio when the call comes in?”

  “He said if I don’t respond within a couple of hours they’ll just broadcast the same message a couple of times a day until I do respond. They said to leave the radio on as much as possible, and to listen for the call signal.”

  “Okay. I’ll have the boys start tilling up the back yards and taking down the fences between the houses. You and I can go behind them to plant the seed, and then once it’s planted I’ll help you with the antenna and the fence posts. How are you going to get the cattle here?”

  “I told John I’d find a livestock trailer from a dealer’s yard outside of town. He seemed to think it was a bad idea. That it might attract the wrong kind of attention. He suggested taking a U-Haul truck instead. They have ramps to get the cattle up and down, and nobody would know what was in the truck. We could get them here without anyone knowing.”

  “Is the ramp on a U-Haul truc
k strong enough for a cow?”

  “Funny. I asked John the same thing. He said if you can roll a five hundred refrigerator up the ramp, then it should accommodate a three hundred pound cow.”

  “Good point.”

  “Okay. My boys are good with mechanics. After they finish the tilling, I’ll have them go find such a truck and replace the battery, and whatever else they need to do to get it in good running shape.”

  Tony had walked up on the two and had listened in on the last part of the conversation. He had his own questions.

  “How do you get the cattle on and off the ramp if they don’t want to cooperate?”

  “John said not to worry about that. He said they’d show us how when we got there, and they’d put them on for us. All we’ll have to do is get them back off again.”

  “So, what can I do to help?”

  “Well, if you oversaw everything else, the corn and wheat crops, the security, the Symco supply runs… if you could handle all of that, it would allow Jesse and I to devote most of our time to this project.”

  “You got it, Frank Furter.”

  He said it with a big smile, but Frank wondered if maybe he should have kept that part of the plan to himself.

  Chapter 28

  As it turned out, the hay grew a lot faster than Frank had expected. Several good rainstorms and moderate temperatures helped. In just over a month, the hay was well over his knees and growing like wildfire.

  The other projects were finished as well. Frank had spoken to John several times on the radio. John’s last transmission was, “Ready when you are. Approach slowly.”

  Eva and Jesse were still a little apprehensive.

  Eva said, “What if it’s a trap, Frank? What if these people are just trying to lure you there, to do you harm?”

  “Don’t be silly, dear. If they wanted to do me harm, all they had to do was shoot me when they had a chance. Instead, they befriended me. They gave us food, and chickens. Now we have eggs for breakfast every few days. They don’t sound to me like the dangerous sort. And besides, you know I’ve always had a knack for reading people. And I get the feeling these are good people.”

  “But how can you be sure?”

  Frank kissed her.

  “How can I be sure they’re good people? Because I know good people when I see them. I married you, after all.”

  Jesse said, “I wish I could be as confident as you are, my friend. But I’m not. Why don’t you let me come along, just in case?”

  “No, Jesse. We’ve been over this. I don’t want to betray their trust by letting others know where their place is. I promised them I wouldn’t. If I show up with anyone else, I’ll have broken their trust. And they’ll have no reason to follow through with their part of the deal.”

  And so it was that Frank set out by himself that Thursday morning, in a full-sized U-Haul truck, headed for Salt Mountain. It took considerably longer than in his pickup, because he had to maneuver the large truck around several cars abandoned in the middle of Highway 10. Cars that had run out of gas while on their way to sanctuary in Mexico, Frank supposed, although he’d never know for sure.

  He hoped that whoever had been in those cars seven years before made it to safety and were still among the living. But he’d never know that for sure either.

  As Frank approached the compound, he slowed his speed to a crawl. He wanted them to know it was him, even if they couldn’t see his face clearly. Then he chuckled as he realized the stupidity of it all. As though they were expecting anyone else to show up in a U-Haul truck.

  John didn’t ask him to do it, but as he neared the wall he turned sharply to the left and executed a huge u-turn.

  Then, with the back of the truck facing the security camera, he hopped out of the cab and opened the overhead door to the cargo bay.

  So whoever was watching him could see that there was no one in the back of the truck.

  He waited outside the truck in full view of the camera, unarmed and very vulnerable. But he was also confident that he’d meet no harm.

  It took John about five minutes to get Brad and Bryan posted on the rooftop with rifles ready in case Frank was followed.

  John and Sami went to the drive through gate on the side of the compound, but didn’t open the gate until they were given the all clear by Sarah. Sarah took one last look at all the monitors, didn’t see anything amiss, and told them they were free to open the gate.

  John walked through and Sami quickly relocked the gate behind him.

  John walked up the road that ran along the side of the compound until he rounded the corner and came out at the front.

  Frank greeted him with a warm smile and a handshake.

  “Hello, my friend. How are you?”

  “Doing well, Frank. How about yourself? And how was your trip?”

  “Uneventful. As I’d hoped it would be. There aren’t a lot of drivers out there on the road anymore. A lot of obstacles, but few actual drivers.”

  “Yes, we’ve been seeing the same thing. I hope that just means people are too timid to get out. I’d hate to think that so few people have survived.”

  Frank shook his head. He knew that his part of San Antonio was hit hard. He hoped it wasn’t that way everywhere.

  “Come on, Frank. Let’s get this thing into the yard.”

  John climbed into the passenger seat and Frank restarted the truck.

  “Just follow that road along the side of the compound. They’ll open up the drive-through gate for us.”

  As they slowly approached the gate, Sarah called out from the control desk, “Okay, Sami, it’s all clear. Go ahead and open it.”

  On the rooftop, Brad held his position, aiming his weapon on the roadway outside the compound.

  Bryan shifted his position, keeping Frank Woodard in his sights as the truck drove slowly by the building and over to the barnyard.

  He kept Frank in his sights until both men departed from the truck.

  “I hate to ask this of you, Frank. But we can’t be too careful under the circumstances…”

  “Say no more, John. I would do the same if our roles were reversed.”

  Frank spread his feet shoulder width apart and leaned over to place his hands on the side of the truck.

  John patted him down for weapons, and then went to the driver’s side of the truck to make sure there were no firearms stashed under or behind the seat or under the dash.

  “You know, it’s funny,” Frank said as John returned to his side. “As many times as I’ve patted down suspects over the course of my career, that’s the very first time it’s ever been done to me.”

  John laughed.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “No, not really. It’s much more fun being on the other side.”

  John waved at Bryan, in a hunting blind on the corner of the roof, and Bryan eased up. He never put his rifle up, though, just in case.

  Mark came out of the building and shook Frank’s hand.

  “Hey, it’s good to see you again. How are things in San Antonio?”

  “Not too bad. Most of the violence has gone away. Right after the thaw, when people started coming out of their homes, we were hearing gunshots almost every day. But we haven’t heard any for the last couple of weeks. I’d like to think that the marauders were on the losing end, but we just don’t know. All we know is that it’s peaceful in our neighborhood, and we like it that way.”

  “Well, it’s just about lunch time, and the kitchen staff has just sounded the bell. Come on inside and get a good meal. We refuse to send you away hungry.”

  Frank went inside and met most of the group, and answered a million questions about how he and his neighbors managed to survive the freeze. For his part, he asked no questions at all about the compound or what was in it. He didn’t want to send a message that he was overly curious.

  John and Mark, meanwhile, were purposely vague about the group’s numbers and possessions, and even a little bit misleading. M
ark said, “The dining room is only big enough for a certain amount of people, so we eat in shifts.”

  It wasn’t true, of course. But he wanted Frank to leave the compound with the impression that they had a lot more people than they really did.

  Karen came by the table and dropped off a basket of fresh vegetables from the greenhouses, and asked how Frank’s seed supply was back in the city.

  “Well, we got a lot of seeds from Walmart. Some of them came up, some didn’t. Then we got some more from Home Depot. Again, some came up and some didn’t. I think the only things we haven’t been able to grow are cucumbers and watermelons. Everything else seems to be coming up fine.”

  Karen excused herself and returned as Frank was finishing his dessert. She handed him two small zip lock bags full of seeds.

  “I should have marked them, but the black ones are the watermelons. You said your wife’s a gardener. She’ll know the difference.”

  Frank thanked her.

  “From all of us, I say God bless you for everything you’re doing for us. And I promise, we will spread the goodwill to others as soon as we’re able.”

  Karen said, “Perhaps you can help us too, Frank. I’ve been looking for the bees to return to help pollinate our crops. I’ve only seen a few. I’d like to think that they’re slow to return because we’re at a higher elevation than San Antonio and a little bit cooler, and that the bees are just tired of cool weather. And it’s not a major crisis. We can self pollinate our crops on a small scale. But when we start raising crops on a large scale we could use the bees to help us out.

  “Would you check with your wife, and the others who have been helping her? Would you find out if the bees are out in force down there?”

  “Sure. And I’ll do you one better. I’ve been out and about in our neighborhood and the neighborhoods surrounding it for the past few months. I met a woman not far away who seemed to know a lot about horticulture and agriculture and all that kind of stuff. I’ll find out from her if there’s any advice she has for you.”