Run (End Times Alaska Book 2)

by Craig Martelle

  “It means we’re at war, and we’re losing.”

  A WORLD AT WAR

  A world at war? Or maybe it was just Alaska at war. I still thought that we were in a demilitarized zone. What if the weak politicians had negotiated a stalemate where the territory between the militaries was declared no-man’s land. It had been irradiated from the nuclear explosions, and almost all other survivors had tried getting out. They may have been corralled and not allowed to return. Maybe that’s why no one came back.

  Where did that leave us? If our own people shot at us to make us turn around, and our own people flew out to find us, but the Russians were the ones to put troops on the ground, then there had to be some kind of agreement.

  Our own people had shot at us when they shouldn’t have missed. Not a single round had penetrated the plane. The red flare, a warning. The F16s flying low and fast to make a great deal of noise. And almost six hours for us to run and hide.

  That sounded more like malicious compliance from people whose orders had to be carried out, but whose orders went against the very fiber of a soldier or airman’s being. I could see it. “In order to keep the war from spreading beyond Alaska, we’ve agreed to allow Russia access to all areas northwest of this line. We will help them find any survivors, who will be resettled to locations outside the zone. Thank you for playing.”

  We needed to lay low until the immediate threat passed. Then we needed to keep laying low.

  When we got everyone together, the initial joy at seeing Darren and Becca was muted when everyone realized that our changed lives also meant a changed existence. So we had another what-do-we-do-now meeting.

  I was fresh out of ideas. Maybe we could approach it by looking at what we didn’t want.

  “I’m not surrendering to the Russians. Ever.” I’d rather live in the woods like a caveman. I wouldn’t let the twins or even our dogs get taken by the Russian military. I’d fight. And I’d garden, can vegetables, and do everything we had been doing. What could change?

  But for my family, we sure as hell couldn’t run to the hills and make do. Life in Alaska required one to be far more deliberate.

  Since they flew in, maybe that meant ground troops would not be permanently stationed in the zone. If they saw something, they’d come. So we needed to make sure that they didn’t see anything.

  No more flights in the airplane. No smoky fires during the daytime. No big heat signatures. Nothing to make us stand out. Or we could leave for Canada. We could get there going overland, although it would be far easier and quicker in the winter on snow machines. As always, this was a mutual decision between Madison and me.

  She had already reached her conclusion. Her words made the decision make sense.

  “We’ll be fine right here. We have what we need, and they don’t know about us. We’ll keep doing what we’ve been doing. We’ll just stay out of sight while doing it.”

  “I don’t know why, but I like our new life. I like what we have. If we give up, will we be allowed to go home? Unless I know that answer is yes, I don’t want to take the chance. I want to stay,” Amber said firmly.

  “Me, too,” Lucas committed, standing and giving Amber a hug. Everyone else gave their approval for the plan to lay low. To keep on keeping on.

  Awareness and readiness did not equal fear. If any of us were going to live in fear, then we wouldn’t be living.

  A NEW NORMAL

  And yet another new normal for us all. After two days, the eight people from the Community returned home to Chena Hot Springs. We continued our gardening and were pleased with how everything was going.

  We constantly looked over our shoulders. We would stop and listen. We were always armed.

  We told ourselves that it wasn’t fear, but we were afraid. How could we not be? Maybe the real word is that we were courageous. There was something out there to be afraid of, but we were standing up to it, even if only in a small way.

  I had to build a small shed to house our generator. I double insulated it and put four heater vents on it in the hopes of dispersing the heat enough that it wouldn’t light up an enemy’s infrared goggles.

  We also needed a wood-burning stove. We hadn’t found enough pellets to keep the pellet stove alive for another winter. One thing we hadn’t counted on was the extra manual labor provided by the Community. I had real doubts that Madison and I could move a five-hundred-pound pellet stove out of our house. With the help of our friends, we made quick work of the change out.

  The pellet stove was moved to our shed. We disconnected the wood burner from the house on the corner and moved that, with the help of our friend’s truck and a dolly. Our vent pipe was four inches, leading to an eight-inch roof vent. We needed the wider pipe all the way. I’d take care of that during the rest of the summer.

  We needed to find and stock up on glass jars for canning. We had our book on gardening and it had a section on canning. With the generator, we’d also be able to freeze things. When the winter cold came, the freezer would already be sitting outside. At that point, it would be a big cooler, not needing electricity.

  We needed to stock split firewood. In the immediate neighborhood, there were probably hundreds of cords. With the truck we had “borrowed” from our friends, we could easily move as much as we needed in a very short time. I thought we could put half in our shed and half in the garage. We didn’t want anything out in the open.

  Marines took the war to their enemy. Marines sought to impose their will. In this case, we wouldn’t be doing that. Our only chance to survive against a vastly superior enemy was to not exist, at least as far as they knew. I hoped our note ploy would keep them guessing. They didn’t fly regular reconnaissance flights over our area. We would have seen something. I assumed they were only in a position to react. Without seeing anyone, they would go back to waiting. At least that’s what I hoped.

  As part of my note, I put “the two of us are going to hike to Canada since we crashed our airplane.....” Since they could only confirm that they saw the two of us, we didn’t need to give them a bigger target.

  HOW DOES ONE PUMP

  A SEPTIC TANK?

  After weeks of nothing unusual, we fell back to our old routine.

  We were stocked with firewood to last the entire winter. Our neighbors’ fuel oil tanks had been filled with gasoline. We were able to pump some fuel oil from the tank at the gas station, so we filled our tank. With the bigger generator, we could run our home heating system. We had hot water. We had enough electricity. It was almost like we’d returned to how we’d lived before the attack on Fairbanks.

  To get to this point, I was working almost eighteen hours a day. I was exhausted. I was on my feet all day and working, always lifting or moving something. If anything needed to be tended to, hauled, fixed, or built, then I took care of it. The one thing that remained for us to ensure a comfortable winter was to pump the septic tank.

  I thought we could do it if we had the truck that the septic pumping companies used. Without that, I wouldn’t know where to start.

  I needed to find a truck that could do the pumping. Maybe there was something in Two Rivers. I took our truck in search of a different truck.

  When Chena Hot Springs Road was used by thousands of people daily, it was constantly in need of repairs. It was amazing how well it held up without any traffic. I usually drove down the centerline, but still adhered to the speed limits. The law didn’t matter anymore, but I didn’t want to risk getting into an accident. I wore my seatbelt too, just in case.

  Two Rivers is not a big town. I knew it wouldn’t take long to search it. I drove up and down the roads, checking driveways leading into the trees. I drove slowly on the dirt so I wouldn’t kick up a big dust cloud. I lived in constant fear of being seen. I wanted to think that I was being prudent, but my caution was driven by fear.

  I never found anything that looked like a pump truck. I continued up the road to the next small community. Same thing. Long driveways into the woods and no tru
cks. When I was turning around after driving down one long driveway, a door to the house popped open, and an older gentleman stepped out, waving.

  Wasn’t that a pleasant surprise! First, that he didn’t shoot at me and, second, that he had survived. We had driven past his turn-off dozens of times and never knew he was here.

  Then an elderly lady joined him on their porch.

  Leaving my rifle in the truck, I got out with my hands up.

  “Fellow survivors! It is great to see other people.” They smiled broadly at me, and we shook hands, but the older lady wasn’t into that, she grabbed me in a big grandmotherly hug. There’s no doubt she felt my shoulder holster under my jacket, but that couldn’t be helped, and she didn’t seem to care.

  “We’ve been by a number of times, and I never saw that you were here,” I told them.

  “We usually keep to ourselves. I tried going into town a couple months back, but the city was gone. So I came back home. There wasn’t anything that we really needed, although I would kill for a cup of coffee.” He must have driven by when we were visiting the Community. “Come on in and sit down. Martha makes a great cup of tea.” She beamed at the compliment and went back inside. He leaned close to me and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “You haven’t got any coffee, have you? I don’t have the heart to tell her that I don’t like tea.”

  I laughed long and hard. Of all the things going on in this world....

  SAM AND MARTHA

  Sam and Martha had lived in Alaska their whole lives, nearly seventy years. They’d bought this house exactly thirty-five years ago to set themselves up for retirement, which they had enjoyed for the past six years. Their cabin was without electricity and running water. There was a stream out back where they pulled their water. They had a huge old-growth forest behind them where they managed to cut enough wood for heating and cooking through all the cold months.

  They were the epitome of preppers; they were completely self-sufficient. I was awed in their presence.

  The inside of their cabin was lined with shelves, completely packed with books of all sorts. They had oil lamps for light. A big garden was out back, and there was a door leading to what may have been a fruit cellar. If it was below the permafrost, then it would act as a walk-in, year-round freezer. They didn’t need much from the rest of humanity.

  “This is a good cup of tea, ma’am,” I said, not looking at Sam as I didn’t want to laugh at his expression.

  “Let me guess. You’re a coffee drinker, too.” It wasn’t a guess. I think Sam underestimated her. I smiled uncomfortably, but Martha was so grandmotherly, she made it all seem okay.

  I told them everything we knew, right up to the helicopter full of Russians searching for us.

  “We were here when this was only a territory. Even then, the Russians thought it was theirs. When we found oil, the Russians made noises about getting their cut. Maybe they finally thought they were strong enough to take it back.”

  “Or that we were too weak to fight for it.” My negativity lingered. I had spent a great deal of my life as part of an American military. Peace through superior firepower and all that. It pained me to see us negotiate away a part of our country, giving up on our own citizens.

  “Would you like to take a trip to Chena Hot Springs? All the modern conveniences, including fresh vegetables!” Their garden was in the process of growing. They wouldn’t be able to pick anything for at least another month. Their eyes lit up thinking of fresh food.

  “And you can take a swim in the pool,” I added.

  “Not that into swimming, but a fresh salad would be nice. We’re almost out of gas though. I don’t think we can make it there and back.” There was an old truck parked beside the cabin. It probably didn’t get very good gas mileage.

  “I have ten gallons with me. Take it all. We have plenty more to share.” They looked at each other.

  “How can we say no to that?” Sam leaned over to shake my hand.

  “There were a number of young people working there when we lost Fairbanks. They run the place now. I call them the Community of Chena Hot Springs. When you get there, go to the lodge and find Amber. Tell her that Chuck sent you. They will all enjoy hearing your story.” I thought about it for a minute and then added, “As for payment, since they work for themselves now, we always join the work groups and pick vegetables, or clean the dog kennels, or work in the kitchen. I see that you two aren’t strangers to work. I suspect everything you have here you built yourselves.”

  “Mostly him,” Martha pointed and smiled again. If only all people were as happy as these two, then the world would be a pretty good place.

  We went outside, and I was getting ready to leave when I remembered what I had come for. “You wouldn’t know how we could pump our septic, would you?” Sam shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

  Damn.

  ABIGAIL

  When Amber and the group returned to the resort, they couldn’t find Abigail. They went to the kennel, yelling for her and continued in the direction she had gone. They gave up the search after a couple hours. They grilled Darren and Becca to ensure that the soldiers hadn’t done something to their dog musher. Darren was certain they hadn’t. Soldiers barely made it to the kennel before they were called back and flew off.

  Someone would have to wait in the tree line where Abigail said she would feed the dogs. They would wait for a day before scouring the woods and hillsides.

  Darren volunteered to wait, but Becca waited while Darren headed into the woods. Since he was the designated hunter, he took it as his responsibility to be able to track. He didn’t know what he was doing, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

  With his trusty 300 Win mag hunting rifle, he gave Becca a kiss and headed into the woods. There were a number of trails, so he walked alongside each, looking for footprints in the dirt. He found only dog tracks, and they were everywhere, going in every direction. It didn’t seem like Abigail had come this way, until Darren walked on the trail itself.

  He saw the weeds, but it didn’t immediately register. Something didn’t look right. A brighter green against darker green all around. He leaned in for a closer look. Someone had stepped through the weeds, upsetting one single plant. A small human footprint was underneath, leading up the hill.

  Of course she hadn’t walked on the trail for the same reason Darren hadn’t walked on it. It was demeaning that he thought she had no woodcraft. He stood up and looked around. “Why would I think she’s stupid or even naive?” Darren asked himself. Male arrogance? He needed to get over that. There were three men and five women here. Five and seven if he counted us, the frequent visitors. Everyone had a role to play, and everyone was good at filling his or her role. Otherwise, how could they have come this far?

  Had they learned that much from each other? Maybe Abigail had learned things from Darren and Becca when they didn’t realize she was paying attention. What had they learned from her? Darren needed to listen better. He started to laugh. Isn’t that what wives complain about most, that their husbands don’t listen? How had Darren fallen into that trap? He would have to ponder that lesson later.

  Leaning his face into the weeds, he looked in the direction the footprint pointed. There! More disturbed under growth. Then beyond. Once he had his head on straight, her trail looked as obvious as if there were neon arrows pointing the way.

  He picked up his pace, staying on the dirt, which was starting to get overgrown. No one had tended to any of the trails. There were no visitors to use them. He stepped from weed to weed, leaving few footprints, should the soldiers return, but he didn’t think they had any woodcraft. He had watched them as they took no care in how they searched. Bulls in a china shop, he thought.

  Abigail’s prints departed from the network of trails and headed over the hill. He hadn’t expected that. He thought she would put herself in a position where she could see the resort. She hadn’t. Her job wasn’t to watch, though. It was to return twice a day to feed the dog
s. And to not get caught. They couldn’t find her because she was hiding.

  Once over the hill, Darren started yelling for Abigail. It wasn’t long before the dogs started making noise, and he heard her trying to shush them. Which only made them more excited. Darren kept yelling as he walked straight toward the commotion.

  Abigail had set herself up in a small hollowed-out spot under an overhang. Six or eight dogs were running around.

  “They’re gone, and we are back to business as usual, sort of,” he said with a smile. As Darren and Abigail walked back, Darren showed her the trail she had left. She nodded and looked closely. He could see the wheels turning. If there was a next time, she would be much harder to follow. He was impressed. He also took a good lesson away from it all. Never underestimate people by assuming they don’t know what you know.

  THE COMMUNITY REFRESHED

  Once Abigail was safely back in the fold, they debated whether to return the dogs to the kennel. In the end, they dismissed it. With some natural selection, the number of dogs would be reduced. The stronger and more loyal ones would remain. They would pull out the females and keep them within a fenced area for the time they were in heat. They weren’t ready for full on dog fights over breeding rights or a mass of puppies.

  Unfortunately, the dogs were leaving a healthy mess throughout the compound. Maybe come winter, they would rethink where they would put the dogs. The smaller the space, the more prolific they would appear and the more often the area would need to be cleaned.

  With everyone back and all in one piece, work had piled up. The plants in the greenhouse needed to be picked and weeded, and the next round of vegetables needed to be planted.

  The geothermal power plant needed a little more than routine maintenance, like ensuring that the R134a coolant was filled and that the water pumps were cleaned out. The plant moved vast amounts of water, up to fifteen hundred gallons per minute. Those pumps and their filters were critical. If they weren’t well maintained, there could be a catastrophic failure. The turbine spun at 13,500 rpm. If anything failed, the entire system could go off like a bomb.