Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (55 page)

“Can I try a piece of that?” asked Adam.

“Adam!” chided John.

“Oh, it’s OK,” said Terry. “Your boy can have some.” He looked at Adam and said, “Just use your knife and spear one for yourself. Go ahead, son.”

Adam looked at his dad for approval, and when John nodded he rose and approached the makeshift grill. All eyes were on Adam while he speared a piece of sizzling meat with his hunting knife. He returned to his seat and sniffed the meat once. “What is it? It smells better up close,” said Adam.

“Spam,” replied Terry. “Eat up, there’s plenty more where that came from.” Roger shook his head in apparent discontent, and Terry offered an unsolicited explanation, “Roger doesn’t approve of me eating from the cars,” said Terry.

“It’s not eating from the cars that bothers me as much as opening them,” said Roger. “There’ll be hell to pay when we get back.”

“Hell’s already been paid,” replied Pete. “Mind if I have a slice too?”

“By all means,” said Terry. “It’s not like we had a choice, mind you. We had nothing to eat.” Terry peeled open another can of the potted meat and dropped fresh cut slices onto the grill. “It’s not like we’re planning to haul the cars with us anyway,” he finished.

John sighed inwardly and relaxed. They were leaving the freight, and that spelled hope for the neighborhood. But Roger continued to look tense and worried, as if something more was bothering him. “Yeah, but
I’m
responsible for the cars, and what’s in them.
I’m
responsible for all the freight. They’ll fire me for this.”

“We didn’t have a choice. They left us here . . . without any word of what’s going on, or what happened,” replied Terry, as he flipped another slab of Spam over the fire. “I wish you’d relax, Roger. If these guys wanted to hurt us they would have done it already. I’m guessing they also need some food. It’s bad out there, ain’t it?” asked Terry, as he looked sternly at John.

“You’re right on both accounts,” said John. “We’re not going to hurt you, or any one for that matter, and we do need food. I can also see you don’t know what’s going on around us. But before I fill you in, where’d you guys shelter when the ash started to fall . . . in the cattle underpass?”

“Nope,” said Terry with a laugh. “We didn’t find it till later. Besides, the cows were calling it home anyway . . . at least they were when the ash was falling.”

“We had other options,” said Roger. “The first couple ’ah nights we slept on the floor of the lead engine. We stayed there because we thought someone would call for us. We didn’t want to be far from our coms.”
Then finally, since returning to camp with John, Roger seemed willing to relax. He dropped to the ground and sat crossed legged on a piece of cardboard. After reaching over and spearing a piece of Spam, he took a tentative nibble of the hot meat and said, “I figured it was ugly out there because I’ve never seen them stop movement for so long . . . especially on this line.”

“Well, let me tell you what’s going on,” said John, and he spent the next fifteen minutes giving them an abbreviated account of the world around them. He could tell by their expressions when they were surprised, and when John managed to confirm something for them. When he finished, he looked over to Pete and asked, “Did I forget anything?”

“Yeah,” said Pete. “Money’s not worth anything anymore either.”

John watched as concern built up on the faces of the two family men, and added, “I’m sorry if I upset you, but you had to know the world’s not the same anymore. Everything changed. I don’t even know how far you’ll get before the tracks are gone. There was a pretty big earthquake before the eruption.”

Roger and Terry looked at each other and nodded, but it was Roger who took the stand, “That explains why they ordered us to stop. They were probably inspecting the line for earthquake damage when the ash started to fall. I’m guessing they just gave up and just forgot about us.”

“We’re on our own, then,” said Terry.

“Only if you want to be,” said John. “I’d invite you to come stay with us, but I know you want to reach your families.”

“You’re right about that, we do want to reach our families, more than anything, but we really thought they’d send someone to get us. I guess now we don’t have any choice but to stick to our plan,” said Roger, as he stared blankly into the fire. The fat dripping from the Spam hissed when it fell into the fire, and it provided the only sound while the men considered their next move.

“The way I see it,” said Terry, “They can have whatever they want from the freight since we’re not pulling it with us.”

Roger nodded and said, “Let’s eat up, pack a few supplies for ourselves, and leave. I’m done sitting here waiting for something to happen.”

“Amen to that,” whispered John. And in a normal tone of voice he added, “We can help you in whatever way you need . . . to include helping you load up some supplies. And though it may not help you worry less about your families, the food you leave with us will really help feed a lot of hungry families here.”

“I’d take a few cars with us if I could, but the nearest siding is at least twenty miles away. We’d burn too much fuel playing around with shuffling them.” And after a pause he turned to John and asked, “Do you think we can reach Wichita?”

“The roads are still intact, so I think it’s safe to say the tracks are too, but I’d take it slow,” said John

Terry said, “We talked about this trip a lot. About the hazards; how long it will take us, where to stop and inspect the line, and that sort of thing. I’m worried about the bridges, but I think we can sneak the weight of one engine all the way home.”

John nodded and said, “I think your chances are good. Just be sure to take as much food and water that you can carry. I don’t think you’ll find anything along the way.”

The two railroad men nodded, and Pete turned to Roger and asked, “Is that pistol the only firearm you have, Roger?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because I’ll give you something more before you leave . . . a shotgun. I think you’ll need it as much as you’ll need the food and water,” said Pete.

“You don’t say. Well, to that I say thank you kind sir,” replied Roger.

“Well then, what can we do to help speed you gentlemen on your way?” asked John.

“All we have left to do is load the supplies, but otherwise we’re ready to roll,” answered Terry.

“Right!” said Roger. “Then let’s get moving.”

The large diesel-electric engine vibrated the ground beneath John’s feet. It rumbled loudly as it pulled slowly away from the untethered train. Like the head of some gigantic, prehistoric creature, the single engine separated from its long body, seemingly unaware that in its eagerness for freedom it would ultimately kill itself. Strangely, the scene reminded John a little of himself, how he felt when he separated from his physical body. In a twisted continuation of the analogy, the tracks also represented a part of his physical life. Being “on track” no longer held the same meaning for him. The only thing he knew was that his life was very much in motion, and that he was traveling an unfamiliar path.

John waved to Terry, who stood in the doorway of the locomotive as it pulled away, and was rewarded with a salute. John saluted back and watched him duck inside. The big diesel-electric engine billowed exhaust high into the air is it began to build up speed. Boxes of supplies were lashed to the gangway along both sides of the engine cowling. It made it difficult for the railroad men to access the control room, but they insisted on storing food and water in every available open space.

Roger stacked enough food on the engine to feed an infantry platoon for several months, but John knew he was the last person to judge their desires, especially since they were leaving many times that amount of food behind. As crazy as it would have been, they could have taken the entire train with them. And if it wasn’t for fuel economy, they probably would have. They desperately wanted to reach their families, so pulling a load was out of the question.

Along with food, the train included countless other hidden treasures that were locked away in unopened shipping containers and freight cars. Anyone quick and willing to work would probably find survival in a single container, let alone the hundred or more that remained. There were at least sixty containers on the train, but a third of them were double stacked, which meant their doors were more than
twenty feet off the ground. It would be a difficult and tedious process to open and recover the contents of the top stacked containers, but John knew it would be worth the trouble for the survivors. He actually regretted not being around to discover their contents. It was like each container was a potential survivalist’s birthday present waiting to be opened. He could only imagine what they would find.

John knew practically everything moved in shipping containers, but he was very excited to learn that there were several dozen hoppers filled with grain, mostly feed corn, but also sorghum. Lumber haulers and tankers were also lashed to the line, most filled with diesel, but a couple carried industrial grade lubricants. The diesel fuel was a huge and unexpected bonus, and John planned to make a detour to the train before leaving so they could fill up Pete’s truck and fuel cans for their trip.

John heard gravel crunching in the distance and turned to see Pete and Jeff returning from their walk-about around the train. “Did you make it to the end?” asked John.

“Nope,” said Pete, “she’s a long one for the amount of time we had, so we stopped and turned around. Made it about halfway I think. I found the diesel tanker Roger mentioned, but I don’t think we can drive up to it. The first one is sitting over the cattle underpass. We’ll have to use fuel cans. Hey, did Terry tell you how to open the hopper cars? It looks like there’s two types, and I’m not sure which ones are holding the corn.”

“He said a wrench for the top, and a breaker bar for the bottom,” replied John.

“I thought so, but there looks to be some kind of pneumatic process involved. I need bigger tools, but if we open one from the bottom we should put a tarp down or we’ll end up wasting a lot of corn. By the way, I radioed the truck to move up,” said Pete, and nodded to Jeff. “We’re gonna go meet with them now.”

“Good idea,” said John, as he picked up a rock and tossed it casually into the trees on the far side of the trail. “I think I’ll stay here. I need to think for a minute.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” teased Pete. “I told Jeff he should guard the train from here on out. I’ll help him work out a shift schedule. Will you be ready to leave in, say, about fifteen . . . twenty minutes?” asked Pete, as he looked at his watch.

“Yeah,” answered John. “I just want to look at something first. I’ll meet you back at the fence.”

“Good enough,” said Pete, and he and Jeff turned to walk back to the camp.

“Ready?” asked John, when Pete and Jeff were out of ear shot.

“Am I ever,” said Adam. “I’ve always wanted to climb up on one of these.”

“Me too,” smiled John. “Let’s go.”

They reached the cabin and began to study the engine’s various gauges and controls. “It doesn’t look that hard to operate. We should take one and follow them,” said Adam.

“It’s not as easy as it looks. Besides, we’re not going north,” said John.

“Do you think they’ll make it? I sure hope they do,” said Adam.

“I think it depends on what’s sitting on the tracks. But who knows? Maybe they’ll link up with another train crew and keep going. Even if we could, taking an engine would be fun, but not practical . . . not for the company anyway,” said John as he tapped a small keyboard for what looked to be some kind of navigational or communications terminal. “Nope, I think we’ll stick with our original plans.”

Adam left the cabin and walked along the gangway to the front of the engine. John watched him through the small, forward facing window, and turned his attention back to the control panel. There was something appealing about the size and power of such a big machine, but as big as it was, the engine was only as capable as the tracks beneath it. John knew it didn’t take much to derail a train. So as exciting as it was to imagine such an interesting trip, they would stick with their vehicles.

John saw Adam climb up on the front railing, as if he was trying to gain access to the top of the engine compartment, so he tapped on the
window and yelled, “Adam, get down from there before you fall and break your neck!”

Adam jumped down and moved quickly to the control cabin. “Dad, I see two guys walking this way . . . down the tracks!”

John walked around Adam and stopped when he reached the nose of the engine. He leaned against the railing and raised his rifle. “You’re right. We have company. Run and tell Pete, but tell him not to reveal himself early . . . He’ll know what to do. Now go!”

“But, dad. I’m not supposed to leave you . . . we’re battle buddies,” replied Adam. “Besides, can’t you just radio him?”

“Can’t . . . he’s got my radio. Tell him two men with rifles. One rifle looks tactical. Go and deliver the message,” said John.

“Yes, sir,” replied Adam.

John followed his son off the engine, and watched as he disappeared into the woods. After taking another look at the two men through his rifle scope, John sat on the tracks and waited for them to get closer. When they were about half a football field away, he stood to greet them with a wave. They carried their weapons at port arms, as if expecting trouble, but not wanting to heighten their tensions, John kept his rifle slung over his shoulder. They didn’t wave back, so John yelled, “Can I help you, gentlemen?”