Missing (3 page)

     “Will do.”

     Frank knew they would soon run out of daylight. If Sarah was lost, and if they didn’t find her before darkness fell, she’d likely have to spend the night alone, cold and afraid.

     And that wasn’t acceptable.

     A helicopter could spot a signal fire for miles, even in dense forest. If it was moving slowly or hovering over the search area, and Sarah heard it, she could make her way to the nearest clearing and try to get the crew’s attention.

     Frank made another mental note. None of the compound’s residents, to his knowledge, had ever been taught survival techniques.

     He was guessing that Sarah didn’t have a clue how to start a fire, either to signal an aircraft or to stay warm for the night. She also very likely didn’t know how to trap small game or fish without normal gear.

     She probably didn’t know how to find her way back to camp using the sun or stars to guide her.

     Or to treat herself should she become sick or injured.

     Frank wasn’t a worrier by nature.

     But he was worrying now.

     “Sami, have you been able to get ahold of Hannah and John?”

     “No, sir. I’ve tried all of the normal frequencies. Nothing so far.”

Chapter 3

     “Tower, this is Hilo One, finishing final checks and preparing for departure.”

     “Roger, Hilo One. You’ve got one fixed wing light approaching from the north at eleven miles. What’s your heading?”

     “Two Seven Five.”

     “Your choice, Hilo One. If you can clear the airfield within the next two minutes, you are good to go. Otherwise we’ll have to put you on hold for a few.”

     “Ten four. Lifting off.”

     “Pleasant trip, Hilo One.”

     “Roger that.”

     The four people seated in the main cabin of the helicopter didn’t hear the pilot’s departure process. They were chatting away on the chopper’s second channel. John was praising Colonel Montgomery’s operation at the old Kelly Air Force Base.

     “That was pretty damned impressive, colonel. And I’m not a man who is easily impressed.”

     Hannah couldn’t resist adding her two cents.

     “Or giving people praise, for that matter.”

     The colonel beamed.

     “Thank you, John. But all I do is find the right people and turn them loose. They’re all thoroughbreds, every one of them. They know their business and can’t wait to prove it. Finding the right people for the job is the secret to surviving in the Army. Were either of you in the service?”

     “Marine Corps, two tours in ‘Nam. First at Dak To, and then I went back later on to support your guys at Fire Support Base Mary Ann. It was enough to convince me I didn’t want to do it as a career.”

     Montgomery grew somber.

     “I lost friends at Mary Ann. It was a very ugly battle. Thank you for going to their aid.”

     John merely nodded.

     “I deserve no thanks. They were my brothers too.”

     Hannah tried to lighten the subject.

     “Are all of you moving to Oklahoma City together?”

     “No, ma’am. Not all of us. Just my aides and I, and our aircrew. And my agronomists and animal husbandry experts. The brass decided they want most of the worker bees to be local people.”

     “Seems odd that they’d leave so many people behind, after learning so much about your process and how to do everything.”

     “I thought so too, at first. Then they explained their logic.

     “The Army is critically manned. We built this battalion from scratch, from here in the local area, by cruising the neighborhoods and recruiting on the spot. Most of the survivors had nothing to do with their time. And they were hungry and searching for ways to help each other.

     “We told them we had a solution. We gave them a mission. We fed and housed them, and taught them some skills they could use to take back into their neighborhoods.

     “We not only taught them how to march and wear a uniform, you see. We taught them how to defend their neighborhoods, and how to grow crops and care for animals. Now they’re back with their families and no longer have to fear the marauders. And they can feed their families and friends without assistance from anyone else.

     “So they’re getting out of the Army, becoming civilians again?”

     “Some of them are, yes. We gave them each an option. You see, the monetary system still isn’t working, so we couldn’t pay them for their time. We told them that those who no longer wanted to be soldiers would be given an honorable discharge for their service. They would also be given a pay voucher, which they could redeem at some point in the future for the number of months they were soldiers. When the dollar is worth something again.

     “Those who wanted to stay in the Army, however, would shift from a support role to a security role. They would continue to collect pay vouchers at the end of each month, they would continue to live in Army barracks and be fed by the Army. But they would be assigned to help the San Antonio Police Department and Bexar County Sheriff’s Department maintain control over the city and county.”

     John was impressed.

     “I know the local guys are glad for the help. How many of them took you up on it?”

     “About forty percent.”

     “And you’ll do the same thing in Oklahoma City?”

     “Yes. We’ll recruit the majority of our people from the local populace. The thinking is, they’ll work harder if they know their community will reap the benefits instead of people they’ve never met. And, to be honest, the Army is benefiting from the decision as well. After we leave each city, our ranks will have grown in numbers. Should the United States go to war in the foreseeable future, we’ll have a pool of soldiers in cities all over the country who are already trained and on our payroll, so to speak.”

     Hannah smiled.

     “Or at least getting IOUs.”

     “Yes. And in the process, each new community we help will be strengthened not just from a food-growing standpoint, but from a security standpoint as well.”

     “How many teams like yours are out there, colonel?”

     “Well, that’s supposed to be classified, but you’re not in a position to tell anyone. There are twelve traveling battalions currently in work, performing functions similar to mine in the largest metropolitan areas in the country.”

     “What about the rural communities? They don’t benefit from your efforts?”

     “Oh, we spread the word. We don’t actively recruit in the rural communities, but we get word to them that they are more than welcome to join our ranks, if they’re willing to move into the city and wear our uniform. But surprisingly, very few of them do.”

     “Really? How come?”

     “I suspect it’s a combination of a couple of things. First of all, rural people are better equipped to survive in general. Most of them already know the basics of farming, or of raising livestock. Most of them can already hunt and fish as well, and have places to do so. I think they’re of a heartier stock than many of the city dwellers.

     “And I also think they already have a sense of community that perhaps the city dwellers don’t have. Most people in the city know their next door neighbors, but few other people on the block.

     “Rural people, on the other hand, tend to know everyone in their small towns. They grew up together and not only know the people down the street, but all their kids’ names and their dogs’ names too. They just naturally tend to watch out for each other, and don’t particularly want to go off to the city to watch out for others they don’t know.”

     Hannah turned to the crewman sitting beside the colonel, who’d been eyeing her since before they left San Antonio.

     “Are you going to Oklahoma City with the colonel?”

     “Yes, ma’am. The whole helicopter crew is.”

     Colonel Montgomery continued.

     “We’ve been together too long to split up. Plus, each of us has lost everyone in our families. We’re the last in our bloodlines. It wasn’t planned that way. That’s just the way it worked out. So the four of us… Sergeant Roth here, our pilot Major Davis, our co-pilot Captain Julian and I… we’re sort of like orphans. We stick together for mutual support. In essence, we’ve become our own family of sorts.”

     Hannah regretted asking the question.

     “I’m sorry. That’s so sad.”

     “It is what it is. We don’t dwell on it. And actually, we’re a lot better off than many. Many people lost their whole families and their friends too, and therefore have no support system at all.”

     In the front of the helicopter, Major Dalton Davis shifted in the pilot’s seat, trying to get comfortable. Since just before the skids lifted off the ground, he’d been having pains in his middle back. He asked his right-seater to remind him to see a doctor once they returned to the base.

     “I think I inherited my father’s bad back,” he said. “Maybe the doc can give me some pain pills.”

     But now the pain had gotten much worse, gravitating to his left shoulder.

     Davis could have turned over the controls to Captain Julian, but he was Army tough. He’d flown through much worse pain than this.

     So he continued on course, heading three four zero, fifty nautical miles an hour at treetop level.

     Just the way the colonel preferred.

Chapter 4

     Marty Haskins sat at the desk in the manager’s office at the Trucker’s Paradise truck stop on nearby Interstate 10.

     He wasn’t the manager, of course. And the truck stop wasn’t really a truck stop anymore. They still called it that because that’s what the sign out front said. But it hadn’t serviced a truck since before the world went cold eight years before.

     Now it was more a way station, where a sea of abandoned trucks shared their wares with the needy, the hungry, and anyone else who happened by.

     In recent months, it had also become a gathering place for people in the area to socialize, barter goods, and help each other in various ways.

     In a world virtually void of gainful employment or a working monetary system, it seemed as good a place as any to pass one’s time.

     The manager had left years before, just before Saris 7 collided with the earth and turned the skies black. The last thing he’d done was toss Marty the keys and wish him well.

     But that didn’t make Marty the new manager. He had a habit of telling people that yes, he was the one who decided to reopen the facility, not as a moneymaking venture but rather to help the survivors.

     And yes, he was the one who ran it, along with his good friend Lenny Geibel.

     Yes, he and Lenny were the ones who swept the floors and picked up the trash from the parking lots.

     They were the ones who pulled tankers from the yard once or twice a month to keep the underground tanks filled.

     So that travelers could top off their cars with free gasoline.

     But a manager got paid. Had responsibilities. Had to answer to corporate big wigs.

     Marty did none of that.

     “I’m just a caretaker,” he’d tell people. “I’m just watching over the place until the manager comes back for the keys.”

     Many of the locals considered him neither a manager nor a caretaker.

     They considered him an angel.

     “Why do you do all of this? Help so many people when you get nothing in return?”

     He’d always shrug his shoulders and reply with a curt and modest, “Gotta do somethin’. Might as well be this.”

     Marty didn’t hang out in the manager’s office because of its status. He liked to hang out there because it was the only room at Trucker’s Paradise that had a couch.

     A very comfortable couch.

     And Marty liked to take afternoon naps.

     Some of the regulars had gotten together a few weeks before after they learned from Lenny that Saint Marty had a birthday coming up.

     They asked Lenny what would be an appropriate gift.

     Lenny said, “Gee, I don’t know. He’s always been a trucker. Everything he owned fit in the little compartments of his sleeper cab. When you live a life like that for awhile, you learn not to need much.”