Mike clicked the button on his mike a couple of times to acknowledge the message.
It was a clear sunny day with only a slight wind, not enough to move the windsock in this small and sheltered valley. Mike turned on final approach and set the last notch of flaps, pulled back, and reduced power a little more. The plane slowed at eighty and the tires screeched as they came in contact with the runway. As he put the flaps back up to zero degrees, he reached down and opened the cowl flaps and let the momentum of the airplane slow itself down.
When they taxied over to the hangar, they saw the Sheriff pulling into the airport; he stopped in front of the office. Mike taxied over and shut the plane down by pulling the fuel mixture to full lean. The engine sputtered and then jerked to a standstill.
Mike and Sam got out of the cockpit and walked toward the office where the Sheriff was already rummaging around. When they walked in, the Sheriff turned and said,
“They kept their maps here somewhere, but I just can’t remember where that is off the top of my head.”
Mike walked over to a file cabinet and pulled the steel drawer open labeled “Sectional Charts.”
“Well, butter my butt and call me biscuit,” the Sheriff joked in a thick country twang, “how’d you know they’d be in there?”
“In aviation,” Mike said, smiling as he pulled one out and unfolded it, “like the Navy, they aren’t maps… they’re charts.”
After a few more tries, they found a chart showing Fitch and a few other small towns sprinkled here and there; each just a name and a dot. They walked over to a table and the three of them hunched over the aviation chart and studied it.
“This might be a good place to stop and check out,” the Sheriff said, placing his finger on a particular spot. “I know there was a crop dusting outfit there, just outside of this town called Ruston. Over here is a small strip that belonged to the farmer named… named… I can’t remember now, but we could go down to The County Building and look him up.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Mike said. “Sam and I are going to top this bird off with some of the gas stored over there in the tanker that you keep locked up in the hangar, and then we’ll head out that way. Ruston looks to be about a fifteen minute ride from here.”
“You boys ain’t going without me,” the Sheriff said, smiling.
They gassed up the 182 and in a few minutes, they were headed to Ruston.
The short flight lasted seventeen minutes and the strip was about a mile from the main farm house. When the airplane stopped, they taxied as close as they could, shut the bird down, and began to walk. All three men were each armed with an M-16 that Sheriff Waters kept in his trunk.
As they walked, the tall grass came up to their knees in places and they stopped several times to remove burrs from their socks that had lodged in their ankles. The farmhouse was big, and off to the right of it was a very large barn. The house was big too, although it could easily fit inside the barn. It was painted white with dark green trim. The barn was painted a reddish color that was weathered and appeared to be light rust. It was at least three stories tall.
“I don’t know a lot about this guy,” Sheriff Waters talked as they stepped into the last field, “But I understand that he had more money than some countries. I had actually forgotten about him. He owned an airplane that he used to go to the coast and if I’m not mistaken, it was a twin engine job. I’m almost positive that he will have some gas stored away somewhere, probably over there behind the barn.”
They closed the last few hundred yards, arrived at the house, knocked on the door, and waited. There was a small windmill off to one side of the house and, as the wind blew, the tin man with a hatchet moved, chopping incessantly away, up and down and up and down. It made a clacking noise. But no noise came from the house, so the Sheriff reached over and twisted the doorknob and pushed. The big door opened with a squeak.
“This is Sheriff Waters from Fitch,” he said it loud enough to be heard throughout the house. “Is anyone in here?”
Silence…
The house smelled bad; at first it was subtle, but became stronger as they moved toward the center. The Sheriff yelled this time,
“Sheriff Waters from Fitch, is there anybody here!?”
Silence…
They moved to the kitchen where everything was neat and orderly; nothing appeared to be touched. The refrigerator was obviously not running, and when the Sheriff opened the door, a disgusting odor came out. All the food in there was rotten. He immediately closed the door.
“I sure wish I hadn’t of done that!” he said, trying to keep down his lunch.
It made Mike and Sam laugh.
They moved through the house and everything was so neat, so perfect. At the top of the stairs was a large landing and there was a hallway that went left and another that went right. Mike went right and Sam and the Sheriff went left.
There were six rooms down the hall that Mike had chosen. The doors were all white enamel and looked as if they had just been painted. The door hardware was rich and obviously expensive. He tried the door knob and the door opened toward the inside of the room. It was a gigantic bedroom fitted with a large wardrobe, several chairs, a table, and a couch. Off to one side was a door that led into a huge bathroom complete with all the fixtures.
Mike went back out and over to the other door and opened it. It was a large walk-in closet packed full of women’s clothing. Mike left the room and went down the hall toward the next room. In the hall, he saw the Sheriff and Sam beckoning to him, so he turned and walked toward them on the plush carpeted floor.
“What’s up, guys?”
“Take a look at this,” the Sheriff said it in a hushed, almost reverent voice.
Mike went inside and found four bodies lying next to each other on the huge bed. A man was on one side, two younger women were in the middle, and another woman was on the far side… she appeared older, like the man.
On a table located on the other side of the room was a hand written note.
“Read it, son,” the Sheriff urged, nodding toward the note.
“To Whom It May Concern,” Mike cleared his throat, “I Thomas Daltry, I Doris Daltry, I Janet Daltry, and I Margaret Daltry, are hereby committing our souls to God for safekeeping. We understand that taking our own life is a mortal sin, but we hope and we pray the Lord will forgive us. We can no longer bear what is happening in the world and the news of the war leaves us no hope. If anyone finds us, please see to it that we have a Christian burial. May God Bless and keep you if you honor this last request from the Daltry’s. Signed… “
The signatures were neatly applied to the bottom of the letter.
“I suppose we need to honor this request, my friends,” Mike said matter-of-factly. “Let’s wrap them up individually and take them out behind the house.”
They found fresh sheets in a hallway closet and took out four, wrapped each body up in a sheet, took them all outside behind the house and carefully laid them down on the ground. They dug shallow graves for each of the bodies and placed them in the ground, side by side. Then Mike went inside and searched the massive room that was the library and found a Bible. He came back and opened it to Romans, Chapter 6, verses 4 and 5.
“We were buried therefore with Him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with Him in a death like His, we shall certainly be united with Him in a resurrection like His.”
He then flipped over and read the 23rd Psalm and finished with a small benediction.
“Rest in Peace, this family, Thomas, Doris, Janet and Margaret Daltry. May the Lord have mercy on you that you might receive the everlasting light from God. Amen.”
The Sheriff and Sam uttered their ending to the prayer together.
Mike turned and looked at them and said, “What say we look around for some gas?”
They found a huge tanker truck that D
altry used to fill up his plane and not only was it full of aviation gas, but the diesel tank on the truck was full as well. They also found a five thousand gallon tank full of automobile gas and a fifteen hundred gallon tank of diesel.
It would all have to be transported back to Fitch for later use. The twin engine Cessna King Air was in the large barn and looked pristine other than collecting some dust. They made arrangements to bring some people back in the Cessna and drop them off so they could transport all the gas back to Fitch within a few days.
Sam and Mike went back home to Avalon after the ferrying operation was complete and Sheriff Waters coordinated the salvage operation of the fuel. It was a productive trip and they now had plenty of fuel to last awhile, especially Av-gas for the plane.
That little plane sure was coming in handy these days.
When evening came to Avalon, and after a sumptuous dinner, Dan clicked on the radio and a man was talking,
…The President assures us that it is in the process of being implanted as I speak. Last night, we reported on the East Coast of the United States; tonight we will give you pertinent information that will help you see a picture of the West Coast and the remainder of the United States. We are confident that you will have a better understanding when we finish this broadcast.
The President has still had no communications from anyone out west and in particular, the Great State of California. No one seems to have any hard evidence as to the status of the people and the territory. The President has satellite photos of the strike zones, but little else is known.
We are all hoping that someone will get on a radio and enlighten us… and soon. It is a terrible situation not to know. I can share with you here and now what we do know. Satellite images reveal that Seattle, Washington was hit with multiple bombs.
The bombs took out the Boeing plants in Everett and Seattle, which greatly reduced the military capabilities of McCord Air Force Base and Fort Lewis, located south of Seattle near an area known as Puyallup, Washington. The President is in communication with the military installations but no word as to their status is forthcoming so far.
Moving south, Portland, Oregon was nuked by a single bomb and nothing is coming out of that area.
Farther south from there, San Francisco, California was struck with three bombs. The devastation is tremendous and the City by the Bay no longer exists as it once did. Satellite photos show the Bay Bridge is damaged, but still stands. The rest of the city burned for about two weeks and there is no detectable life anywhere.
We know little about Los Angeles because there are no radio transmissions coming out of that area. As I stated earlier, there are rumors about Motorcycle Gangs that have formed mobile armies and are looting and pillaging the area.
An expert in nuclear fallout, Dr. Duane Adams from the University of Chicago, tells us that in all probability, the activity in those areas is reduced due to radiation poisoning, which probably moved from West to East and was blocked by the Sierra Madre Mountain Range, The Great Rocky Mountains, and the Tehachapi’s.
That would explain the lack of any information coming out of there. It could well be that almost, if not all, of the residents from San Francisco and south are dead, but we are still holding out hope for some survivors.
Aircraft from what is left of the Air Force have flown over the area and taken readings. The President released that information a month ago, but it is being updated by additional flights as I speak. As soon as we have that information, we will let you know.
We know the area in and around San Diego was hit multiple times, presumably to take out the Navy, Marines, and other military installations located there.
It is predicted that much of California will remain contaminated for at least a century. The oil wells that are burning out of control near Los Angeles and down in the valley near what was once Bakersfield will probably burn for a number of years. No one can get to them because of the deadly radiation and the resources to bring them under control are non-existent at this time anyway.
Food shortages will be averted from the new food bowl located in the middle of America where food crops are actively being cultivated. The twenty six states encompassing what is left of the United States are beginning to work hard and industry is starting to recover, with little exceptions.
People all over America are experiencing a renewed surge of patriotism and pride in this country. Just outside of Austin, Texas a group began to protest some remote happening by burning an American flag. They were all shot and killed by a Texas mob waving American flags and sporting fully automatic weapons. The President commented about the incident today by saying,
“Although we abhor violence in any form, anyone who would burn a U.S. flag or condemn these United States of America should be well-advised to do so at their own peril. Feelings are running high right now, and the American population has a low threshold toward anyone who would condemn or utter anything derogatory toward this country. I understand how they feel, but I do implore them to not take the law into their own hands. We are a country of laws and we are a land where justice will prevail.”
In other news, the President and his cabinet are re-instituting the gold standard. Gold has risen to ten thousand dollars an ounce, which makes America’s reserves a precious commodity.
Someone turned off the radio and Beth stood up and said to the group.
“Since you all have been so gracious as to allow me and my children to live here at Avalon, I’d like to present a gift to this community and to all the citizens living here.”
She asked Tom Wyatt, David Driscol, and Matt to come forward and they did, carrying small leather pouches. They sat them down on a table near Beth and she said,
“Here in these bags are about twenty one pounds of pure gold. I make that to be a little over three and a quarter million dollars.” The boys were beaming as she spoke, and Beth couldn’t help but smile too.
“And there are lots more where this came from.”
Life was going to be good again… and they all knew it.
Chapter 41 Epilogue
The day following the news broadcast, the radio crackled with a message,
“This is Sheriff Waters calling Avalon, over. Do you read, over?”
Crystal was monitoring the circuits and she responded as soon as she got to the bench.
“This is Avalon; I read you loud and clear Sheriff. Send your traffic, over.”
“Can you ask Mike if he’d fly down here to pick me and one other person up and take us back to Avalon? I’ll stand by and wait for his answer. Tell him it’s important. Out.”
Crystal got on one of the handhelds from the bench.
“Mike, the Sheriff is calling for you; he needs you to fly down and get him plus one; he says it’s important.”
“Tell him I’m on my way,” came the reply.
Mike went out to the plane and did a pre-flight before taking off. Sam noticed and came over midway through, curiosity getting the best of him since it wasn’t one of their normally scheduled times.
“Trouble?”
“I don’t think so,” Mike was wiggling a flap and didn’t bother looking at Sam. “Evidently, I’m going down to get the Sheriff and someone else and bring them back here.”
“Don’t know why, eh?”
“Nope,” he said, “But definitely interesting. Sheriff’s never been up here… he never asked.”
Mike finished the pre-flight while Sam watched. He drained the water from the wing tanks and then climbed in to the cockpit and prepared to start the airplane. He said bye to Sam and then yelled the customary signal, “Prop Clear!” while Sam backed up, giving room. The engine cranked up and started right away.
He taxied down the field, turned the little airplane, did a run-up, recycled his prop, checked the mags, released the brakes, and headed down the runway, gaining speed for lift. It didn’t take long and before he knew it, he was landing at the county airport just outside of Fitch. He saw the Sheriff’s car waiting
for him and taxied up near it.
“What’s up, Sheriff?” He yelled from the cockpit. “Hi Randal! Jump on in. Randal you sit up front,” he said while handing back a pair of headphones, “You weigh a lot more than the Sheriff.”
In a moment, the airplane was speeding down the runway and Mike turned the craft toward Avalon. In less than twenty minutes, they landed and taxied up near the big porch where several people watched. He pulled the mixture control and the engine sputtered to a stop.
They all walked around the grounds and Randal and the Sheriff were nearly speechless at what they saw. As usual, most people were in awe with what they saw at Avalon. They took the royal tour with Dan as their tour guide. They were offered a bowl of beef stew and ate it heartily.
“This is just about the best stew I’ve ever eaten,” the Sheriff commented.
Caroline brought Chad and Linda from the kitchen to meet the Sheriff and Sergeant Randal. When they finished eating, the tour resumed and, after a couple of hours of walking around the retreat, they returned to the main building where Dan invited them to the bar for a drink.
Dumbfounded, the Sheriff stared in disbelief. “A Bar?”
“Go big, or go home, Sheriff. That’s what I always say.” Mike commented as they all laughed, leading the Sergeant and the Sheriff to the main bar.
“What’s your pleasure?” Crystal asked as she tied on an apron.
They stayed in the bar talking until it was time for supper, and they all had a fabulous meal of spare ribs, mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet buttered corn, and for dessert, apple pie and coffee. As seven o’clock approached, the Sheriff kept checking his watch and asked that they retire to the radio room.
Dan turned on the primary shortwave radio set to let it warm up; it was a different set than what they normally used for communications with Fitch. In a few minutes, it came alive with a warm buzz and the new President of the United States was speaking.
“This is the President calling Avalon, over.”
Avalon: The Retreat Page 31
