Read Avalon: The Retreat Online

Authors: L. Michael Rusin

Tags: #prepper, #TEOTAWKI, #survivalist

Avalon: The Retreat (11 page)

BOOK: Avalon: The Retreat
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One last and very important item was found in the old main barn… a boiler-fired tractor made by Allison Iron Works in Saint Louis, Missouri. Meticulously, and with a great deal of patience, it was disassembled, cleaned up, and repaired to working order. They fired it up one day after a coal fire was burning fiercely and the water was topped off.
It ran like a charm and could easily be used in the huge meadow out back for all sorts of things. One salient feature was that it had a power takeoff that could, like the large main boiler, be used to run additional machinery. The best advantage was that it was portable and could be moved to wherever it was needed. It sounded like a steam powered locomotive, albeit a little quieter, and it was a very convenient power supply in lieu of anything powered by gas, diesel, or electricity.
Mike and the group came through the trees and stopped to take in the view of Avalon. Each and every time he saw the magnificent structure, it nearly knocked him over. It was like stepping out of those huge trees into an imaginary world… a place where time seemed to stop. He loved this place and had no misgivings about living here permanently. He didn’t care how long it took to get the world back together; as far as he was concerned, this was it for him from now on. He took out his small transceiver and spoke into it,
“Birds coming home to roost.”
The radio crackled and a voice came back at him,
“I had you in my scope… did ya feel it?”
He raised an arm over his head, looked over his shoulder and said to his friends,
“Welcome to home and to heaven.”
Everyone smiled at each other, but Mike was only looking at Caroline.
She was smiling back at him.
Chapter 8
Safe and Sound
Moving forward together, every person in the group was anxious and it was all each of them could do to not roll on the power and make a dash for the huge log building straight ahead. They were loaded down and despite the remoteness of their location, security was still of concern.
They cautiously arrived a few minutes later, following a leisurely pace, and there were people already gathered on the massive porch just behind the covered area where wagons and stage coaches once delivered people years ago. Beyond them was the main entry, the large double oak doors.
Dozens upon dozens of large stone chimneys jutted out of the roof line, their appearance both regal and inviting. They made everyone feel that to cuddle up with a good book in front of one of the matching fireplaces must be a special delight.
Stopping at the entry in a cloud of blue smoke and dust that quickly dissipated, they parked their bikes in a line near obsolete hitching posts, looking much like modern day horses. They would put them away, in a while, over at a place they all referred to as the “Motor Pool”… a recently converted mechanic’s shop on the other side of the large horse barn. For now, they only wanted to sit and chat and let the adrenaline subside.
A bit to their surprise, there were eight more people here; there was only supposed to be four. One of them was Dan, who nonchalantly leaned against one of the four large stone columns that made up part of the massive porch.
Mike was curious and asked, “How did you beat us here? We made good time.”
There was laughter and Silvia chimed in, “We had actually headed up here just to relax for a few extra days; of course that was before the bombs went off.” She adopted a more serious tone when she asked, “Was there any trouble while you were en-route getting here?”
Caroline said, “A little, but the boys got us around it safely.” She looked at Mike and her face filled with respect and admiration for him. The others understood; Mike was that kind of guy.
Just then, Susan Riley came out with a large jumbo pitcher of fresh-squeezed, ice cold orange juice and a dozen or so glasses. She had made the juice using oranges from the trees in the greenhouse. The reefers were working and provided them with ice and the ability to freeze food, in addition to canning.
Off to his right, Mike could see the stack of the old boiler sticking up above the roofline. With the coal fire burning full time now, there was no smoke to be seen, only the haze of heat, which quickly dissipated in the brisk mountain air. Some of the group was concerned that the constant fumes would give away their location, but they quickly discovered that coal fires normally only smoke when they are coming up to normal burning temperature or if there are lots of impurities in the coal, itself.
“Anyone thirsty for fresh squeezed OJ?” Susan asked to no one in particular. The orange trees had been a debate since they took up a fair amount of space in the greenhouse. In the end, however, everyone decided that the benefits outweighed the drawbacks, even if it was simply for the sake of a having a taste of “normalcy” in their out-of-the-way retreat.
Everyone filled their glasses and chugged down the juice. It was so fresh and full of pulp, it was nearly like eating an orange. No one said anything until a second glass was filled and emptied and the pitcher sat with only a few dredges in the bottom. Susan turned on her heels to return the pitcher and see about making some more.
Dan was there, and he asked the question they were all thinking, “Okay Mike, just how bad was it?”
Mike began to recount the things he had seen and once in a while someone else jumped in and added bits and pieces to the story until Dan understood in detail what had happened.
Everyone had a good laugh about the poor deer and the waste of a good Claymore, but Mike wasn’t laughing. He had done a lot of bartering to get the few he had and ended up paying about a thousand dollars for the twenty-four he ultimately bought, which was already down to twenty-three.
When he first started dealing with the man, he mentioned to those in his survival group that he actually thought the guy was an ATF Agent. It forced him to decide early on that, if necessary, he was prepared to kill the guy. He wasn’t going to prison for acquiring and possessing something he knew he was Constitutionally entitled to, especially since Claymores had only recently been banned by a government that existed for its own designs and not the needs of honest citizens.
Later, he bought a case of “old style” Fragmentation Grenades from the guy, referred to as “Pineapples” because of the deep serrations where they would come apart upon exploding. They were loaded with TNT and if exploded in a house, there would be nothing in the place that would still be functional.
To be safe, Mike followed the man around a few days and discovered he worked at an Army Ammo Depot. He was stealing the stuff and selling it; apparently, he had been doing it for months. Mike felt better about the man then, but he still preserved the tape recordings he had made of the transactions in case he needed them later to prove he had not stolen the stuff, himself. He read in an article about six months later that Army Intelligence had busted the man and he had dropped dead from the stress shortly thereafter.
Mike was curious as to how the others had managed to get by the slide areas that had happened weeks before and found out they had done the same thing Mike and his group had done… they removed debris and then put it all back. He admitted that he was impressed, since it didn’t appear to him as if anything had been touched.
He looked around and saw that there were actually others here, as well, and there were still some yet to arrive. They would wait a few more hours, overnight at most, before making a search for the missing members by backtracking to the cave and farther out, if necessary.
They all knew that if there was a problem and any of them were out there trying to make it to the cave or here, someone would be along shortly. Right now, they had to rest up and stow their gear. Mike wanted a shower in the worst way.
Long ago, each of them had selected the cabins they wanted to make into their little homes. Mike excused himself and headed for number seven but instead of wheeling his bike over to the shop, he simply took it with him to his cabin. Caroline walked toward cabin number eight.
The others also began to make way to their cabins, but when Susan came out on the big porch with more orange juice, some of them stayed and had more. Mike was more interested in getting comfortable and taking a shower.
It had taken a bit of doing to discover and repair the water system, but Avalon now had hot and cold running water. The hot water was provided by the large boiler, which was fired by coal. It worked wonderfully and was monitored twenty-four hours a day.
Years ago, one of the priorities for Mike and Dan was to put that boiler in excellent working order to provide Avalon members all the comforts of home. Each cabin was plumbed with hot water radiators as well as hot tap water to bathe; it had been part of the big remodel Slim had undertaken. Mike was grateful because he wanted to shower and change clothes as soon as possible. The hot water would charge up his batteries.
Wheeling his bike through the door, he parked it over in a corner and out of the way, making sure there was a piece of plastic under it to catch any dripping fluids that might fall. He stowed his backpack and other items from the caches in another corner and it was then that he remembered the venison. With a resigned sigh, he hauled the meat out of the cabin and went back to the main lodge.
There were a number of people still talking and Mike rolled his eyes at them and said, “I have to get this in the walk-in and hang it. I was so glad to get here that I almost forgot.” Several of them also had pieces, so they retrieved theirs and followed him to hang their pieces of deer.
Mike went back to his cabin.
“Now for that shower,” he muttered to himself as he closed the door.
His clothes came off in a series of rapid movements, and he opened the shower door and stepped in. The water came on ice cold, but not for long. As he was adjusting the handles, the shower door opened and Mike immediately brought his left arm up with a clenched fist to his upper chest and the right hand, clenched as well, drew back to his side; it was his standard fighting stance.
Caroline, who was standing there with a towel wrapped around her cooed, “Want me to wash your back, Sailor?”
He instantly relaxed his stance as her towel dropped to the floor and she stepped in.
Later, Mike contemplated the incident and decided if he had to rate it, it was up there as just about the best shower he ever had.
Chapter 9
Societal Decay
Mike owned a Grundig Satellite 6001 Transistor radio that he inherited. His uncle had used it years past to get time checks from the Greenwich Mean Time Observatory while he was sailing his Ketch in the South Pacific. An old school sailor, he used the HO 214 Navigation System, which required “to the second” accuracy of time when taking a series of noon sights. He always reset his watches at Greenwich Noon, wherever he was sailing.
Mike liked it because, with the copper wire connected to the antenna jacks and having strung it to a tall pole he had planted for the antenna wire, the reception was fantastic up here in the mountains. He was able to listen to stations all over the world with it.
Dan, on the other hand, boasted a Zenith Transoceanic and the two of them tried at times to brag the other into admitting theirs was the best. It was late evening but the solar panels were charged, so he listened to music as Caroline snuggled close. Her long blond hair kept tickling his nose and he found himself blowing it away from his face only to have it return and tickle again.
The sentimental melody was abruptly interrupted with an urgent news report…
The President just announced that Iran was bombed a few hours ago with several Nuclear Warheads launched by an OHIO class, ballistic missile submarine patrolling south of the Persian Gulf. Satellite imagery tells an alarming story of mass destruction all over that country. Other reports say that another U.S. nuclear submarine launched a separate strike on North Korea. Little more is known at this time. We do know, however, that fires are burning all over the country and can even be seen from space… one moment please.
BOOK: Avalon: The Retreat
12.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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