“Are they still alive?”
“With no communications, I don’t know for sure. But if enemy attacks didn’t kill them, then I’m sure they are.”
Kotchel tried not to sound too fatalistic but he didn’t beat around the bush. “It’s likely they would have run out of food weeks ago. Besides, they can’t be young, and there are many tough young hoodlums out there. An older couple wouldn’t stand much of a chance if they were attacked.”
“My parents would,” Zach argued. “And, they wouldn’t have run out of food; they are survivalists. They have twelve months worth of food and water on hand at all times.”
“The very thing gangs go after,” Kotchel pointed out.
“In this case, at the risk of their own lives. My dad and mom keep weapons on hand at all times, too. I’ve seen my father hit a running coyote at a hundred yards. My mom is just about as good.”
“It’ll be people after their food, not coyotes.”
“He was in the thick of things in Viet Nam. If anyone can protect himself and his loved ones, it’s my dad.”
Kotchel sized Zach up. “And he raised a son who’s just as tough.”
“I wouldn’t say that, but I’m just as determined.”
The Coast Guard officer sighed. “I can’t stop you, but I still advise against it.” He could see that Zach would not be taking his advice, so he asked, “Are you going by yourself?”
Ron spoke up. “I’m going with him.”
“Me, too,” added George.
“Me, three,” said Denise.
“In view of what the captain told us, we may have to rethink your going,” Stacey said to her daughter.
“It’s because of what he said that it’s important that I go,” argued Denise. “I’m the best shot on this boat.”
“I’m a pretty good shot,” Ron said.
Denise put her hands on her hips and stared him down. “I’m better.”
“She probably is, Ron,” Zach told him. “She’d be a terrific back-up for us.”
He turned to Stacey. The two communicated in the silent way couples do after years together, even in a situation as unprecedented as this. Stacey bit her lip but nodded.
“No going off on one of your wild goose chases, Denise,” her mother said to the girl, reluctantly relenting.
“I understand the situation, Mom. I’ll be right by Dad’s side at all times.”
“I don’t know if this is a family of ‘survivalists’,” Kotchel said, “but it’s obvious you’re a group of survivors.”
“We face situations squarely,” said Stacey.
“Okay, at least accept some advice. Forget Santa Barbara. Go up the coast twenty miles or so. You can go ashore at the area between Santa Barbara and where Vandenberg Air Force Base was before it was destroyed. Gaviota State Park. I would normally suggest even farther north, where you would be closer to Santa Maria when you went ashore, but we’ve seen some bad looking characters along the beaches there, so I wouldn’t recommend that. From the sea, it looked like Gaviota was deserted when we passed by last week. There is not much beach there, but there is a spot where we could get you in close and you might go ashore unnoticed. Don’t try it with that little dinghy you have hanging back there, though. We’re heading north, anyway, so we’ll go with you, and I’ll have a man take you to shore on our skiff.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, captain,” Zach said sincerely.
“I’m not just being thoughtful. If you’re willing, I’d like you to do something for the people at The Isthmus.”
“What do they need?”
“Seeds. They planted everything they had, but we keep adding people. They need a lot more vegetables. Large portions of the state are contaminated, so we can’t get seeds in those places. Santa Maria escaped radiation, and I don’t believe any of the rampant diseases have hit there yet.”
“As I recall, there are several nurseries there. If any are still in existence and still have seeds, we’ll find a way to get them.”
“I thought as much.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Advice on how to travel. You will be closer to Santa Maria from where we drop you off than from Santa Barbara, but walking will take too much time. You'll need to drive. I see you have those barrels of diesel back there, so look for a vehicle that uses diesel. Most gasoline tanks blew, and so did a lot of diesel tanks, so there is little fuel available. Having your own is the safest bet.
“How do we get a vehicle?”
“There are cars and trucks abandoned everywhere. For the most part, the owners were killed either in the attacks or by carjackers since. The thugs drive the vehicles until they run out of fuel, and then they just leave them by the side of the road. If you can find a four-wheel drive, so much the better but you’ll probably have to take the first diesel vehicle you find. Do you have small cans to haul fuel?”
“Yes, a two-gallon can.”
“That won’t be enough. We’ll supply you with a couple of five-gallon cans.”
“I really appreciate that, captain. I think one is enough, but these aren't normal circumstances. Based on what we’ve run into so far, and from what you’ve told us, it’s better to have the extra can, just in case.”
“Expect the unexpected is the motto we live by these days.”
Chapter 41
THEY reasoned that most of the people they had to watch out for were probably night owls. The thugs would probably be marauding until the wee hours of the morning and wouldn’t start up again until early afternoon. Therefore, it made sense to hit the beach just before sunrise. That should give Zach and his small crew time to find a vehicle and get to Santa Maria before the bad guys went on the prowl. Not having to fight their way to Zach parents’ house would be a relief after what they’d been through so far.
The cutter sailed north the afternoon before to check activities in the waters there. While they were gone, the La Sirena sailed to a position about a thousand yards offshore at a spot they reckoned was where they could go ashore safely. The place appeared to be easily accessible by sea, but not so easy to get to by land. Even in peacetime, it was unlikely that anyone used the tiny beach much. Now, they hoped, it wasn’t being used at all.
As planned, the cutter came back from its northerly tour and arrived at their location at four-thirty in the morning. Zach, Denise, Ron, and George boarded the skiff the cutter sent over. Each of them wore one of the backpacks the Arthur family used for outings. Each had enough food and water for two days. All four people wore jackets, but they carried no extra clothes. Zach had a few toilet supplies and his mother’s herbs in his pack, George carried medical supplies, and Denise carried the 8 X 35mm binoculars. They all had AK-47s slung over their shoulders and carried fifty rounds of ammunition in their packs. They had filled the two five gallon cans with diesel the night before and loaded those onto the skiff. Ron carried the nozzle they would use to put the diesel into whatever vehicle they found. He also carried a flashlight.
The cutter was going to be back in the area at midnight, and the plan was for them to signal with the flashlight. It wasn’t a strong light but it would almost surely be the only light in the area at night. If they weren’t there, the cutter would return the following night. If they weren’t there the second night – well, in view of the precarious situation they were going into, they figured there was no point in planning beyond the second night.
The skiff moved toward shore with the motor running at low rpms to avoid excess noise, so it took almost ten minutes to get there. The sun was still well hidden behind the eastern landscape, but the before-sunrise light was enough for them to see shapes and forms. The spot they chose was a small beach bordered on either side by low, rocky cliffs. By putting the motor in reverse gear at the lowest possible rpms, the pilot was able to keep the skiff a little behind where the waves were breaking until the four were in position to jump. When they were ready, he put it in neutral and let a wave carry them part way. The second the fou
r went over the bow, the pilot shoved it in reverse and accelerated, backing it away before a breaking wave hit the boat and shoved it ahead, which almost certainly would have beached it.
The four jumped at the same instant. They landed in thigh-deep water. The footing underneath was rocky, but the rocks were small and didn’t hinder their progress. Zach and Ron carried the five-gallon cans as they jumped into the roiling waters, but George lost his balance when he landed in the turbulence. As he struggled against the current, Zach grabbed his arm to keep him upright as they half ran and half carried him to the beach.
“Thanks for…” George started to say, but cut it off when Zach put a finger to his lips. The skiff’s engine got loud, but by then it turned and headed slowly, almost silently, back to the cutter.
The four sloshed out of the water and onto a beach that was mostly dirt and rocks. It sloped up to a rise that was just high enough to hide the activities of the group. Zach looked at Denise and cupped his hands around his eyes, indicating that he wanted the binoculars. He motioned for the others to stay where they were while he crawled up to look around. If there was anyone looking at the little rise, they would probably see four heads pop up, but it would be unlikely that they would see one if he didn’t make any quick movements.
The slightly improving light allowed him to make out a few things in the distance, mostly trees and low hills. Off to the right was the main area of the park, where people would likely be if there were any around. It was still too dark for the binoculars to allow him to see anything in detail, but by steadily training them on a single spot for several seconds, he would be able to determine if there was any movement there.
He concentrated on many spots over a period of five minutes, mostly in that main area. There was no movement while he studied the area but he needed confirmation. He motioned for the others to join him. They crawled to the top of the rise. By pointing, he indicated what area each should scan. After an additional three minutes, they were convinced they were probably alone on this part of the coast. If anyone else was around, they were asleep. For the time being, that served the same purpose.
They stood and walked over the rocky terrain toward the main part of the park. There was now enough light to allow them to skirt around objects. By not kicking rocks and branches, they were able to move almost silently. They crossed under a trestle supporting a railroad bridge and made their way up a slope leading to the park’s center. In twenty minutes, they came to a narrow roadway. There were no vehicles on it, suggesting that it was rarely used. But it angled off in a northeasterly direction, and Zach was sure it would lead to highway 101. If the captain was right, they would likely find many abandoned cars on that highway.
Expecting to hear a disturbing silence, they were instead greeted by a few birds chirping and some small animals scurrying about. They heard the hum of insects and the soft croaking of frogs. Although the park was named for the gaviota, the Spanish word for seagull, there were not many of them around. They assumed that was because the ocean current that passed by offshore was from the north, and San Francisco had been nuked. Radioactivity would have killed off most of the fish the seagulls feasted upon. There was no hum of electric wires and no sounds of traffic in the distance.
They trudged on for half an hour before reaching the main highway. The cutter’s captain was right. There were cars abandoned all along the roadway. They didn't see any people. The tenth car they came to, a twenty-year-old Mercedes Benz sedan, had a diesel engine. The key was in the ignition. The tires were worn, it was dirty, and it wasn’t a four-wheel drive vehicle, but it suited their purposes well enough. They put a little diesel in the tank to make sure the engine was in working condition before putting in more. It took a couple of minutes, but the fuel finally reached the engine, and it started.
“Shall I put it all in?” asked Ron.
“Put all of that one can in. This is probably going to be our transportation all the way to Santa Maria and back, and we don’t want to run out on the way. We will keep the second can in reserve. This old car may guzzle fuel pretty fast, so we may need it for the return trip.”
They loaded the cans in the trunk but kept their backpacks and weapons in hand as they started on their way to Santa Maria. Having driven that road before, Zach took the wheel. When driving his family to Santa Maria in the past, he often took Routes 1 and 135 so they could enjoy the scenery, but this time he stayed on the 101. There were abandoned vehicles all along the way, often in the middle of the highway. At times, they had to pull over to the shoulder to get around and twice had to push cars out of the way in order to get through.
As the morning wore on, they saw several people off to the sides of the road. All looked thin and discouraged. It appeared there was longing in their eyes as they watched the Mercedes pass. A couple of the men started running toward the highway when they saw the car coming but it passed by them before they could get to the road. Those in the car didn’t dare stop.
On the outskirts of Santa Maria, two motorcycles pulled onto the highway from a side street and caught up to the car quickly.
“Pull over,” a large, tattooed man with a patch over one eye ordered as he began to inch closer to the driver’s side door.
“Don’t have time,” Zach called back.
The man took his right hand off the controls and reached into his pocket for a gun. When Zach saw the gun, he hit the gas pedal hard and sped away. The man started shooting as soon as he pointed the gun at the car, but by then the Mercedes had pulled ahead. Bullets hit the back window, but missed the people in the car.
Denise, in the back seat behind the driver, rolled down the window, leaned out, and opened fire with the AK-47 on automatic. She aimed low and her bullets bounced off the highway, but in seconds, the front tires of both bikes blew. One flipped and the other skidded along the highway until it came to a stop. Those in the car had no way of knowing if the drivers survived, but if they did or didn’t, they were no longer a threat.
“Were you trying to hit the tires?” Ron asked.
“I thought it best that they didn’t have anything to chase us with,” she responded matter-of-factly.
“You were right,” he said, impressed.
“About the tires?”
“About being a better shot than me,” he told her. “And, about the tires. Even if I had time to get a shot off, I wouldn’t have thought to incapacitate the vehicles.”
“I’m more than just a pretty face,” she joked, grinning.
They all laughed, although it was a guarded moment of levity. Zach turned off the highway and they drove through a residential neighborhood that had an eerie look to it. Windows were broken and cars were parked at crazy angles, some up on lawns that looked like they had probably been well maintained until recently. Doors were ajar and several roofs were caved in. Fire had gutted some houses.
“It’s around the corner,” Zach said before he turned right onto a street that still had a look of peacefulness to it. It was on the outskirts of town, and the houses on the right side backed up to open fields.
They soon learned that the seemingly peacefulness was a deception. Gunfire echoed down the empty street, emanating from an area ahead of them. Zach slammed on the brakes when he saw two men using an overturned car to rest rifles on. They were shooting at a house on the other side of the street, the right side.
“That’s my parents’ house they’re shooting at,” he yelled as he grabbed his weapon and jumped from the Mercedes.
Chapter 42
THE cutter sailed south as soon as the skiff returned from taking Zach and his team ashore. They planned on checking out the area south to Port Hueneme until time to return to pick up the four they had just dropped off.
Stacey and her crew of two hoisted sails and headed the La Sirena out to sea as soon as the four had boarded the skiff. Their plan was to stay far enough away from shore to avoid prying eyes until it was dark and time to return for the pickup of their boat mates. When they were
fifteen miles out to sea, they dropped the sails and let the boat drift. They sat in the cockpit, resting as the rippling water gently rocked the boat.
“I’ll sure be glad to get to that Isthmus place,” Millie offered as she reclined on one of the cushions that covered the storage bins at the sides of the cockpit. “A month of walking on water is more than enough for me.”
“I like it,” said Glen. He and Stacey sat on the cushion on the other side of the cockpit.
“Oh, I like it, too,” admitted Millie. “Any time you want to take me out for a leisurely sail on a Sunday afternoon, you’ve got a willing crewmember. But, these old bones are better suited to a more stable flooring.”
“Does that mean you aren’t going to ask us to take you back to your hotel?” Stacey asked. She immediately regretted saying it.
Millie’s face fell and she sighed. “I have to face facts. My hotel is gone, and it is unlikely I’ll ever get back to rebuild it.” Then she brightened. “I heard the captain say there’s a small hotel on that place called The Isthmus, so I’ll see what I can do to help build it up. If more people are going to be staying there, they’re going to need an experienced hotel person.”
Stacey studied the eighty-year-old woman with respect. “I get the feeling it takes a lot to keep you down,”
“A lot? So far, nothing has, and I don’t intend to start getting feeble just yet, either.”
“Could you get up a minute, Millie?” Glen asked.
“What? Are you going to test me to see if I can still stand on my own two feet?”
Embarrassed, he stammered, “Ah, er, no, that isn’t it. No, I, ah, you see, I saw something on the water north of us, and I want to get the 8x50mm binoculars so I can see what it is.”
Millie jumped to her feet. “See,” she said, winking at him.
The young man grinned. He decided that she was kidding but wasn’t sure how fitting it was for a teenager to joke around with a woman that much older. He lifted the top of the bin and found the binoculars. He replaced the cushion and straightened it for her.
Seeking Safe Harbor: Suddenly Everything Changed (The Seeking Series) Page 15
