Countdown to Armageddon (26 page)

     Once everyone was back in their places, the convoy set out again.

     Scott checked his watch. It was 4:30 a.m.

     They had approximately two hours of darkness left.

     He checked the number on the next tower as they drove underneath it. Tower number 18208. Their camping site was east of Tower 18421.

     By his calculations, at the rate of speed they were going, they’d be at the campsite in an hour and a half.

     Scott cursed himself that they’d get to the site with half an hour of darkness left. That was wasted travel time.

     But it couldn’t be helped. This whole thing wasn’t an exact science, after all.

     And, he supposed, he should just count his lucky stars that they were halfway home without incident.

     But they still had a long way to go.

-49-

     Just as the distant sky showed signs of lightening up just a bit, the convoy drove slowly underneath Tower number 18421.

     Once clear of the tower, Scott made a sharp right turn, and crept out of the short grass and into the scrub brush and mesquite trees that shadowed the power lines to the east.

     Eighty yards away from the towers, the brush got thicker, and the shrubbery got higher. The mesquites were replaced by tall spruces and fir trees.

     Scott made a left turn at a twisted fir he’d remembered from two days before, and drove into a flat meadow, perhaps the size of a football field.

     He kept driving until he came to the pile of tents, sleeping bags, and blankets he’d left there on his way down the mountain.

     He’d found this place on Google Earth several months before. It seemed to have everything they needed. The flat land was perfect for camping. The shrubs and scrub brush provided great cover. It even had a fast running stream running through it where they could wash up if they wanted to.

     They parked the Gators in an arc, with the front of each one pointing more or less to the east. That way the beds on the back of each Gator would be closest to the tents, and the items in the beds would be easily accessible.

     Ever the cautious soul, Scott called all of the others into a tight circle.

     “We’re pretty isolated now. There shouldn’t be anyone else out here besides us, except maybe a hunter or fisherman or two. But just to be safe, keep your voices very low, okay?

     Everyone understood.

     Scott, Joyce, and Linda had set up these tents several times before at the compound, just to familiarize themselves with them.

     They knew where every peg went, every pole was grounded, every flap attached. The others just stood back and watched.

     In fifteen minutes there were three four man tents fully erect, and formed in another arc opposite the truck beds. Seen from above their campsite formed a perfect circle.

     When Scott purchased the tents, he opted for four man tents instead of two. As any camper knows, tent manufacturers take a lot of liberties when it comes to determining how many bodies their tents will accommodate. A typical two man tent will only accommodate two men if they are the size of small women. Or if they like incredibly cramped spaces.

     A four man tent, on the other hand, will provide two average sized adults room to stretch out and get comfortable when they sleep.

     And he figured that after sitting upright in Gators all night long, everyone deserved to sleep a few hours in comfort.

     Once the tents were up, the group massed in the center of the campsite and whispered to each other. They’d split up two to a tent. Scott and Joyce would take one, of course. Linda would be on guard duty, so Sara would have the middle tent to herself.

     Jordan was disappointed that he couldn’t share a tent with Sara.

     Zachary was disappointed that he had to share a tent with
Jordan.

     They dared not build a campfire, for fear that the smoke or the smell might attract any curious people in the area. So instead they had sandwiches and tossed salads for breakfast. It was surprisingly tasty, perhaps because they’d had all night long to work up a hunger.

     This day was cooler than it had been the day before. Or perhaps it just seemed that way because they were halfway up the mountain. And it was always five degrees cooler above the city.

     In either case, Linda felt chilled, and pulled a sweatshirt out of her bag to put on over her other clothes.

     While the others slept, she walked the perimeter of the meadow. It helped her stay awake, and gave her a chance to get some exercise and stretch her legs. When she got tired, she sat in the passenger seat of one of the Gators and watched out over the great expanse of the clearing.

     She’d forgotten to wind her watch the day before, and was disheartened to see that it had stopped.

     Scott was pretty good about looking at the position of the sun in the sky and judging the time of day. He could usually guess within half an hour either way. He told her once it was one of the vestiges of his youth, when a boy scout counselor taught his charges how to tell time from the position of the sun.

     Linda, though, had no such talents.

     She waited until the sun was directly over her head, wound her watch, and set it for twelve noon. She’d ask the first person to awaken what time it was and see how close she came.

     She reflected about all they had gone through already, and everything that lay before them. She worried, too, about how hard the change in their lives would be for all of them.

     She wondered whether she would be up to the task.

     Then she decided she would be. After all, it hadn’t even been a year before when she was nothing but a whipping post for Glen’s anger, and she accepted the beatings she got as normal. She finally mustered the strength to tell him to go to hell, and walked away.

     For a brief moment, she wondered where Glen was at that moment, and what he was doing.

     And for even a briefer moment, she felt pity for him.

     Then nothing.

     She thought of the whole situation with Sara. She knew what it was like to be mistreated at the hands of bad men. Glen wasn’t the first. She, more than anyone else, could relate to what Sara had gone through. Perhaps Sara sensed that, and that’s why they had bonded so quickly.

     She wondered if she should go ahead and tell Scott and Joyce what Sara had told her. So they could empathize with her too.

     But no, it wasn’t her place. She’d give Sara the chance to tell them in her own time, in her own way. That would be the proper way to handle it.

     In the early afternoon, Duke took off like a bolt of lightning after a rabbit he sensed on the far side of the meadow. Back and forth they went, from one side of the meadow to the other. Each time Duke would get close, the rabbit would quickly change directions and bolt again.

     Linda wasn’t sure why the rabbit was toying with him, and wondered why it didn’t just bolt for the brush.

     Then she decided it was probably a mother, with babies in a nearby rabbit hole, who didn’t want to abandon them.

     She suddenly started rooting for the rabbit instead of Duke.

     Then she took a closer look, and noticed that Duke wasn’t running at full gallop. The scoundrel was merely playing with the rabbit, to have something to do. He meant the rabbit no harm.

     And she wondered if the rabbit sensed that too. Perhaps the rabbit was also playing. Perhaps the things that animals do to interact with each other aren’t always life or death. Perhaps they sometimes enjoy each other’s company. Perhaps.

     Finally, Duke got tired of the game and sauntered back over to Linda, his tongue hanging limply from his mouth. She refilled his water dish and watched as he noisily lapped it up. It was the first time she noticed his whiskers were starting to turn gray.

     They’d bought a female black lab a few weeks before, and had taken her directly to the compound. They’d named her Duchess, of course. She looked a lot like Duke, and she’d make a fine bride.

     Duchess was the surprise awaiting Duke when they made it to the compound.

     Neither dog had been fixed. The hope was that they would be fruitful and provide the compound with playful, yet vigilant, guard dogs for generations to come.

     And that thinking, of course, led Linda’s thoughts back to the Jordan and Sara situation. And how to keep them from multiplying as quickly as Duke and Duchess.

     She decided that they’d have to be watched extremely closely. At least until they could be trusted. And, seriously, who can ever really trust teenagers when it came to sex and abstinence?

     When the sun was beginning its downward arc, Scott stumbled out of his tent and jogged over to the shrubs to use the bathroom. It dawned on Linda that she needed a similar respite, so when Scott returned she handed him the AR-15 and had him relieve her for a few minutes.

     She kicked herself for not noticing that this was the first time all day that she’d felt a need to go. She knew that meant she was dehydrated. And she also knew that being dehydrated meant she wasn’t on her best game. Pulling guard duty at anything less than fully alert wasn’t smart and could have been dangerous.

     She made a mental pledge to herself to drink more water from here on out, and to encourage everyone else to do the same.

     After she returned from the shrubbery, she asked Scott what time it was. He looked at his watch and said “4:40.”

     She checked her own watch and was pleased to see she was only twenty minutes off.

     He spoke to her in a voice barely more than a whisper.

     “I’m up for the day. If you want, I’ll take watch so you can grab a nap before we set out.”

     She pondered the idea and said, “I’d like that, but I think I’ll have something to eat first.”

     He chuckled.

     “Me too. I’m famished. That’s what I came out here for.”

     Scott opened a can of ravioli, and ate it cold, out of the can, with a plastic fork.

     Linda ate a ham and cheese sandwich, and a bag of Lay’s chips, and washed her food down with two bottles of water. She expressed her concern about dehydration with Scott, who admitted that he too wasn’t drinking as much as he should and vowed to do better.

     They sat there together, the two of them, speaking in hushed tones about the past, and the future.

     They’d been high school sweethearts so many years before. Had gotten married and had two children, and the usual problems encountered by people who have kids before they’re completely grown themselves.

     They’d had a lot of good times, and some bad times as well. But through it all they’d been able to remain great friends. And it wasn’t just a show for the boys’ sake, either. They still had whatever traits they’d had so many years before, when they first came together.

     And both just took it for granted that the bond would always be there. That whatever happened or didn’t happen in the years ahead, that they’d always be there for each other. To help each other through the rough spots, and to help celebrate the good.

     After all, it had been that way for a very long time.

-50
-

     In the twilight of the day, the rest of the group finally began to emerge. The first night’s drive had taken a lot out of them, and exhaustion had set in. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, since it helped them sleep easier on hard ground that was anything but comfortable. Now, though, as they came out of their tents, they were stiff and sore and needed to walk around a bit to make their muscles and joints stop hurting.

     So one by one, they came out of the tents, like zombies, walking stiffly and silently in awkward steps, absent of grace or finesse. And one by one they loosened up, stretched, and acknowledged the others, with a smile or a wave or another gesture.