by C A Bird
“Hey, Matthew,” he greeted him. They heard the group down at the campfire start to sing and Matthew recognized We Are the Champions, by Queen. “What are they doing down there?”
“I heard Willy say they had dessert and they’re passing around some kind of a can. Go on down there if you’d like something sweet.”
“Naw, I need to watch my waistline.”
The two men, ten years apart in age, sat astride their horses in companionable silence. They had both lost their families, Einstein losing his wife and two children in a motor vehicle accident before the war, and Matthew losing his beautiful, pregnant wife when a hydrogen bomb had obliterated Albuquerque, New Mexico.
Derek Thorson, or Einstein as the people he lived with in Cimarron had called him, had been a rich, real estate developer in Albuquerque. He survived because he was in a state prison for killing the man that had run over his family.
Matthew was a Ph.D. geologist, just out of graduate school, working at his new job with the New Mexico Bureau of Mines. He’d been at his grandfather’s ranch just South of Taos, when he saw the mushroom cloud over Albuquerque… and he knew she was gone. He lost his parents in the same blast, and his grandfather as well, who died of a heart attack when he saw the blossoming nuclear explosion.
Einstein reined Jasper to the left. “I’ll see ya, I’m gonna go check on Greg.”
Matthew smiled at the scene of his friends enjoying the evening as they were now singing Bohemian Rhapsody, but he’d been thinking more of his family lately and felt a deep loneliness even as he watched their camaraderie. He yearned to allow himself to become closer to these people, but the pain he had experienced in losing his entire family still haunted him.
It had been almost two years since the war, but when he thought of his wife, she still seemed so real to him, like he could pick up a phone and she would answer. Knowing it was him calling, she always said, “Hi baby,” instead of, “hello.” He recalled conversations they’d had about their future. She’d teased him about his choices of names for their son or daughter, and they talked about how Matthew would teach the child how to ride and work at the ranch.
He remembered making love with her, lost in their intimacy.
He whispered her name, Sophie.
12
Although the day was pleasant, the men were sweating from the exertion of digging the foundation for the White House. The setting was in a beautiful meadow, at least twenty acres, at the eastern edge of the college grounds. This White House wouldn’t have a North and South Portico but instead faced west. Architects and engineers swarmed over the site with rolled up plans under their arms. James Hoban’s original plans had been lost, but the plans had been redrawn when the West Wing was added in 1901 and the men were digging the foundation according to those archived plans. There were at least sixty men digging during the daylight hours to finish the two-story basement.
Stacks of granite and marble blocks, and pallets of lumber stood off to one side, ready for use when the foundation was finished.
It was late afternoon and the sun beat down on the exhausted men. They had been digging since 8 o’clock that morning. One of their fellow workers circulated with a pail full of water and a ladle to allow the men to drink water about once an hour. At one o’clock in the afternoon they were each given a peanut butter and honey sandwich. The rest of the time, unless they needed to go to the bathroom, they worked without a break.
Using the crook of his arm, Roger was wiping the sweat from his brow, when he heard a moan, and a tall, elderly man dropped his shovel and collapsed into the deepest part of the hole. Roger noticed that the guards all walked over to the edge of the hole to see what was going on.
Mitchum pointed his baton at two of the workers. “Get his ass out of there and take him back to the dorm. He’d better be ready to work tomorrow. I won’t give him a second chance.” He made a throat cutting gesture as two of the men quickly pulled him from the hole and half-carried him toward the new workers’ quarters.
Roger overheard Mitchum tell a subordinate, “He needs to be back out here tomorrow. If he goes down again, take care of him.” And he gestured toward the woods behind the site. “We can’t waste food on someone that can’t work. This job is a major priority, and I’m not taking the fall if it isn’t finished on time.”
They finally allowed them to finish around six o’clock in the evening. Roger had always been a hard worker, and running his own farm had been back-breaking work, but he had never before shoveled dirt for ten straight hours. He ached from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He glanced over at Ashe, who looked as exhausted as Roger felt. They crawled up out of the deepest hole to the unexcavated portion of the basement, on the back side closest to the woods. Armed guards waved their rifles at them gesturing for them to form up in their platoon.
Their morning had started off with a four mile hike from the National Guard Armory, where they had spent the previous night, to the worksite.
“From now on, you’ll be staying in one of the dormitories here at the college. First we’ll go to the cafeteria for some chow and then you’ll be shown to your rooms, where you’ll bunk with the same person you were with at the armory.”
As they marched toward the cafeteria, Mitchum turned to his aide, “Make sure they double up in the rooms. We don’t want to have to use too many men to guard over them. The dorm rooms can’t be locked from the outside so make sure there are at least two guards in each hallway, and that they stay awake all night.”
Late that night, just as Roger was beginning to fall asleep, he heard a whisper, “Psst, Roger. Come over here.”
“Why? What’s going on?” As he slipped across the room in the dark, he heard Ashe sit up in bed.
“Me and some of the other guys; Cole, McKinney, and Harvand, have been talking the last couple of weeks about getting out of here. This might be our chance. You know the old guy, Smith, that fainted in the hole today? They’re going to make him get back out there tomorrow. There’s no way in hell he’s going to be able to work all day without collapsing again. Keep an eye on him and if he looks like he’s in trouble, you need to be ready.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Start digging closer to the back of the foundation where it isn’t as deep, and as soon as you see him go down, make a break for the woods. Six or eight of the other guys are going to make the break with us. Hang onto your shovel in case you have to use it as a weapon. Hopefully, the guards will be distracted with the old man like they were today. Whatever happens, don’t hesitate to use that shovel if you need to.”
He hesitated, and then added, “You realize this is a point of no return. Once we make a break for it, if we don’t make it, they’ll kill us as an example to the others.”
“They’ll be shooting at us. How are we going to get away?”
“Man, you just have to run as fast as you can, zigzagging to get to the woods. There’ll be a bunch of us and, hopefully, we’ll take them by surprise. Once we get through that wall of Virginia Creeper, everybody’s going to scatter. But you and me, we need to stick together. I have a plan. The rest of the men are all going to try and escape to the east into the Appalachian Mountains. I’m thinking that you and I should peel off and get up to that bridge that crosses the river just north of the campus. We’ll head back west through Charleston and into the hills. I once had some family that lived in Kentucky, and believe me, if we can get into the mountains of Kentucky they will never be able to find us.”
“What about my family?”
“Man, you have to get out of here before you can help them. This may be your only chance.”
“Why are you doing this for me?” Roger asked him. “I just met you yesterday.”
“I never liked doing anything alone, and for better or worse, you’re my roommate. If you have any reservations at all about this then just don’t run when the rest of us do. This is our best chance, we may never get another one. Are you in?”
“
I’m scared. I really want to go with you, and I’m sure I will, but I just need to think about it. I promise though, if I don’t go I won’t tell them a thing.”
“I know you won’t, Roger, you seem like a good guy. We could have been friends in the old days. Now get some sleep. We’re gonna need our energy and I don’t know when we’ll get to sleep again.”
***
The next day dawned cold and dreary. When they walked out of the dorm Ashe looked up at the sky, then over to Roger and just shook his head. Roger didn’t wish the old man ill will, but their escape was contingent upon Smith passing out from the heat.
After breakfast they were marched back to the worksite. They labored all morning until their brief lunch break when the clouds finally began to burn off, and the temperature began to rise. The hole had become so deep they couldn’t throw the dirt out, so a large wooden bucket had been lowered down to them. It filled up quickly, and it took three men hauling on the rope to pull it up and empty it each time.
Roger was nervous, and worried that the guards would notice. He kept his head down as he dug, but glanced up periodically to see how Smith was doing. He tried not to look at his co-conspirators so as not to alert the guards that something was up.
Beginning to think the old man was going to make it through the day, Roger became discouraged and slowed his digging to conserve his strength. He’d been thinking about the escape all day and was now so determined to make it happen he actually considered making a break for it, regardless of whether or not Smith went down. As he dug, he slowly moved toward the back of the foundation. Glancing up he saw Ashe staring at him, and as if Ashe could read his mind, he surreptitiously shook his head at Roger.
Just then the old guy collapsed, tumbling down the slope into the mud in the bottom of the hole.
“Smith! Get up,” one of the workers, Hegstrom, yelled at him. “He’s okay, Mitchum. We’ll get him up. He’ll be able to keep working.” He and another man grabbed Smith under the arms and hoisted him to his feet.
“Get him out of there,” Mitchum said to two of the guards. “I’ve had it with him.”
They laid their weapons on the ground at the feet of a third guard and climbed down into the hole.
Suddenly, several men, who had all moved toward the back of the foundation, were scrambling up the slope toward the shallow end. They each carried a shovel and two of them rushed the guard. The soldier jerked up his AR-15 and was able to get off one shot, hitting one of the men square in the chest and sending him flying backward into the hole. The second escapee swung his shovel with all his strength, nearly decapitating the soldier when the edge sliced into the side of his neck. Bright, arterial blood squirted everywhere, cutting off the soldier’s scream. He dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, grabbing his throat. Tumbling into the hole, he landed on the body of the man he had killed.
“Guys, over here!” The man picked up one of the weapons, and as a guard on the other side of the foundation began to fire in his direction, he returned the fire, directing it in Mitchum’s direction. Cole and McKinney scooped up the other two rifles as they sprinted by, heading for the woods. Mitchum had dived to the ground when the first shots were fired.
He jumped to his feet screaming, “Shoot them! Don’t let them get away.”
A half dozen guards, that had been on the far side of the foundation, began firing after the fleeing prisoners. Three of the escapees had weapons, but didn’t return fire as they, Roger, Ashe and the other men sprinted for the woods. They were now seventy five yards from the guards who were coming around the edges of the hole in hot pursuit. Just before he entered the woods, Roger looked over his shoulder and saw Mitchum with a radio to his lips. One of the pursuing guards stopped and fired off several rounds and Roger saw one of the escapees go down, thrown forward onto his face.
“Roger! Dammit man, come on,” Ashe screamed at him.
Roger plunged through the hanging Virginia Creeper into the deciduous forest beyond, as bullets swished through the vegetation on either side of him. He was almost jerked off his feet when Ashe grabbed his arm, pulling him in a new direction.
“This way,” Ashe said in a low voice. They peeled off to the north running as fast as they could through the tangled undergrowth, jumping moss covered logs, and weaving between the close tree trunks. The canopy was so dense it was almost dark, with rays of light penetrating in only a few places, and Roger could smell the damp soil and thick vegetation.
The gunfire continued and they heard return fire from deeper in the woods. Roger hoped the guards would follow the reports of the rifles and wouldn’t realize that he and Ashe were heading in a different direction.
The sounds of pursuit diminished and they were able to slow their pace slightly, while trying to catch their breath. “Lucky the other guys got those guns,” Ashe told Roger. “They’ll be following the direction of the gunfire and hopefully won’t come after us.” He was panting already and Roger worried the larger man wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace.
The trees began to thin, and they stumbled out of the woods onto an asphalt road. “This is the road that goes over the bridge. If they have the bridge guarded, we’re in serious trouble, because it would be hard to get across the river. Can you swim?”
“If I have to. I don’t know this area at all, so you lead and I’ll follow.” He knew he needed to let Ashe lead the way and set the pace.
The vegetation was thick on either side of the road and as they came around a slight curve they could see the bridge ahead. Hunkering down in the bushes, they checked the area out as far as they could see.
“I don’t see anybody, do you?” Ashe whispered.
“I don’t. They would’ve heard the gunfire and maybe they left to go help. I saw Mitchum radioing for reinforcements.”
“Okay, stay behind me and be as quiet as you can be.” They snuck through the bushes until the vegetation ran out just before the bridge. It didn’t appear to be guarded. Unfortunately, their jumpsuits were very recognizable so they couldn’t just stroll across the bridge, hoping nobody would realize they were escaped prisoners.
Crouching low and praying nobody was around to see them, they scurried over the bridge, breathing a sigh of relief when they reached the other side without being detected.
“In another few minutes there’s going to be hundreds of guys looking for us, so we need to keep moving and get through town as fast as we can.” Ashe pointed west. “The main city is behind us, Civic Center and the airport, but we need to get out of these clothes, and there’re still plenty of stores on this side of the river. I don’t know if it will do us any good, though. Have you seen any civilians that weren’t prisoners in the work camp? I’ve just seen soldiers and prisoners.”
The afternoon sun had drifted lower toward the horizon as they’d made their escape, and now it settled behind the distant hills in the west. Trying to catch their breath, they walked down a deserted sidewalk in West Charleston feeling like they were the only survivors left in the world. Just ahead on the left they came upon a shopping mall. Quickly crossing the parking lot, they pushed open the double doors of a Sears Department Store and entered the dark interior.
“Let’s hurry up and get changed,” Ashe said. “Be sure you get some sturdy boots.” Ashe had a much smaller selection of clothing then Roger due to his size. After changing into civilian clothes, they left the building as the last of the light disappeared into the west.
A fat, orange, full moon had risen and stood above the horizon, allowing their dark-adjusted eyes to see the city before them. Roger felt as though he were walking through the streets of a dying world. Shadowy buildings jutted into the sky, and they heard the rustling of rodents and the plaintive cries of night birds. They walked down the sidewalk, talking in whispers, as if the dead could hear them.
The sweat had dried on their skin and the evening had cooled. Both were dressed in jeans, belts, and flannel, long-sleeved shirts, and had chosen medium-weight jackets, and bas
eball caps. Roger’s longish, brown hair stuck out from his cap and fell beneath his ears.
Across the street, he spotted a sporting goods store and took off running, calling out to Ashe, “Come on, we can get supplies.”
The glass, double doors of the sporting goods store were locked. “Damn, you’d think people would have been in and out of these stores, and would’ve left the door open. Maybe this means the stuff inside is untouched.”
Raising his leg, he slammed his boot into the glass with all the force he could muster, but only succeeded in hurting his foot.
“Here, get out of the way,” Ashe told him. He stepped forward and gave the door a mighty kick, sending spiderweb-like cracks through the pane. Kicking it again, a solid sheet of cracked glass flew from the door into the interior of the building.
“That’s how it’s done my little friend.” They stepped into the dark interior.
“First job is to find some flashlights,” Roger said. “They’re usually in the glass counters at the front of the store.” It took them ten minutes going from case to case until they finally located a counter full of Maglites. “Now we’re in business.” He flicked the switch and although the light didn’t seem to be at full power, it came on, illuminating a treasure trove of camping supplies.
“We each need a backpack. Let’s go.”
They found the backpacks in the far corner of the store, selecting a medium for Roger and an oversized one for Ashe. Going up and down through the aisles they picked supplies they hoped would help get them through the hills and into Kentucky. They each packed an extra flashlight and some batteries, paracord, emergency blankets, and a tube tent. They found a selection of Leatherman tools and a small first aid kit.
