The Army Comes Calling (18 page)

     She was surprised when he actually started to blush.

     “Oh, my God, Marty, I’ve embarrassed you. I am so sorry. Forget I asked.”

     “No. No, it’s all right. I guess the question just caught me off guard, that’s all.

     “The truth is, I’ve been married twice, and neither one worked out. I decided after the second one ended that some guys just aren’t meant to be married.

     “After that, relationships were hard because I took to the road full time, as an over the road trucker. I was on the road twenty four days a month. No wife will put up with that unless she’s a trucker too.

     “So my love life became a series of women I’d see on a regular basis in the cities I’d deliver loads to.

     “I was kind of the land version of the old sailor who has a girl in every port.”

     “I see. And when Saris 7 hit, you stopped driving and stopped seeing your girls. Do you ever wonder what happened to them?”

     “Sometimes. I’d like to think they survived. A couple of them were really special. But I know the odds are against it.”

     “Have you ever thought about going and looking for them?”

     “Actually, I have thought about it a couple of times. And this may sound kind of strange, but I decided not to. I’d rather let them live on in my dreams, where I can still hope they made it. If I went for them and found out they didn’t survive… well, that would just ruin it for me.

     “If they died, I think I’d be better just not knowing. Does that make sense?”

     “Yes. Perfect sense. Would you do me a favor, though, Marty?”

     “Sure. What?”

     “Don’t ever give up on love. And don’t ever stop looking. You’re far too good a man to spend the rest of your life single. Any woman out there would be incredibly lucky to have you.”

     “Okay, doll, you got it. I promise I’ll never give up on love. But in case you haven’t noticed lately, the dating scene out there is pretty much nonexistent. The bars are all closed now.”

     “You’re so old school, Marty. Even before the world froze over, nobody went to bars to find dates. That was like, back in the sixties. Back when people wore flowered clothes and called each other dude.”

     “I’ll have you know I still call people dude. And if they didn’t go to bars to find dates, where did they go?”

     “Mostly to the gym, grocery store or church.”

     “Okay. And just how many of those have you seen around lately? I reckon not a lot.”

     “I know that, Marty. But don’t give up hope. When love is meant to be, it’ll find a way.”

     “Maybe. But maybe it’s also true that some people just weren’t meant to fall in love and live happily ever after. Maybe some people were just meant to live out their lives driving trucks and calling people dude.”

     “Nope. You’ll never convince me of that. You’ll find love again. You just wait and see.”

     “Why do I get the distinct impression you’re up to something?”

     Hannah batted her eyes and flashed him her best innocent girl smile. Then she tried to conjure up a southern belle accent.

     “Why, little ole me? Honey, I don’t have a
clue
what you’re talking about.”

Chapter 31

     As it turned out, there was no shortage of volunteers to take a tour of the Army facilities at the former Kelly Air Force Base. Most of them just wanted to get away from the compound for a couple of hours and see what the world looked like again.

     A few of them just wanted the adventure of a helicopter ride.

     But there were only two seats available, and even those who merely wanted a brief adventure had to admit that there were those who had good reason to go.

     After a bit of debate and a few bruised feelings, the group decided it was prudent to send a security expert, to assess any further threats from either the Army or the civilian populace; and someone who might be able to glean some expertise for growing the group’s own plants and livestock.

     For that reason, it was decreed that John, the chief of security, and Karen, the agronomist, would make the trip.

     Then the chief of security, John, had to bow out at the last minute when he ate something that didn’t agree with him, and had to run to the bathroom every few minutes.

     It wasn’t a problem, though. Frank Woodard was second in command when it came to security measures, and was an able backup.

     Mark was able to produce a high quality digital camera from the hundreds of items they’d stocked in the early days of the mine.

     “Take lots of pics,” he implored the pair. “That way we can get a small taste of what your trip was like.”

     “We’ll try,” Frank replied. “But you know how the Army is about security. It’s very likely that whole parts of their operation, or maybe even the base itself, is off limits for photography.”

     Frank could have saved his breath. Colonel Montgomery was intensely proud of his operation, as well as the facilities.

     “Take as many photos as you’d like,” he told Karen and Frank as they prepared to lift off in his helicopter. “The more people know about what we’re doing, the better.”

     It was a crystal clear day, perfect for flying. The cabin in the noisy chopper vibrated with the beat of the propeller overhead and swayed back and forth in the wind, but it wasn’t an unpleasant ride. Frank hadn’t been in such an aircraft since his days in Vietnam. In fact, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ridden in this particular aircraft before.

     It was certainly old enough. From the registration plate on the cabin doorframe he’d noticed it was a 1967 model.

     The pair was offered helmets with mouthpieces, which made it possible to communicate despite the noise the craft presented.

     Frank asked the colonel, “How is it that the Army is still flying such old helicopters? I’d have thought a colonel would have his own Apache or something.”

     Montgomery laughed.

     “I’m old school. I’m not the kind of guy who ever got into fancy sports cars. I drove a pickup truck. Still do, as a matter of fact. This hunk of metal isn’t as finicky as either the Apache or the Blackhawk. The Apache is like the Ferrari of the United States Army. It’s big on flash and very deadly. But it’s not a workhorse like the Huey. The Huey’s much more reliable, and doesn’t break down as often. And it’s like an old Ford truck. A little bit of duct tape and some safety wire and you can get it airborne again. Those other craft… hell, you have to be a technical wizard just to know what the parts are, much less how to fix them.

     “The Huey’s an old bird, and it’s kinda like me. Slow and steady, but eager to get the job done. Heck, this thing will fly forever, as long as it’s maintained properly.

     “This one here, this is my baby. It’s the one I flew into Laos when I was a young man. I kept track of her over the years, always wanting the chance to fly her again someday. I knew it had been mothballed at a military base in Arizona, and when I made colonel and was told I could have my own chopper, I insisted on bringing it back to life.

     “I felt I owed it a debt, you see.”

     Karen asked, “How so?”

     “At the end of my second tour of duty I was flying an evac mission with the 1
st
Cav. We had some boys on a hilltop getting shot up pretty bad. We finally decided to get the survivors the hell out of there before there weren’t any left.

     “The Air Force fly boys flew in and laid down some cover with their F-4s just before we went in. The landing zone was still hotter that hell though, and we got shot up pretty bad. This baby was full of holes and leaking hydraulic fluid something fierce. The engine was screaming like I’d never heard before, but she got us home. Maybe on a wing and a prayer, but she got us home.

     “The jungle was crawling with gooks that day. If we had gone down we’d have been captured, maybe interrogated and shot. I always said this bird saved my life that day. And I always said if I had the chance I’d give her a second chance at life too. I can’t fly her myself now, the Army says I have to have a pilot. I guess I’m too old to fly, and I suppose she is too. But as long as we’re still going, I’m glad we’re together. We make a good team, her and I.”

     Frank gave Karen a glance and she smiled. It turned out the colonel had a softer side after all.

     The chopper flew a course east, southeast, following Interstate 10 until Highway 90 branched off. Then they followed Highway 90 east until they saw what was obviously a huge military industrial complex, with hangers and runways and more barbed wire than Karen had ever seen.

     Montgomery played tour guide.

     “The western half of this area used to be Lackland Air Force Base. The Air Force used it as a basic training base for all of their enlisted folks. As such, it had dozens of huge dormitories that were available for our use. Some of them are being used to house our project personnel. Others are used to house displaced families and others who are being run out of their neighborhoods.”

     “Run out of their neighborhoods? By who?”

     “There are some very bad people out there. Street gangs, mostly, left over from the old days. Right now they rule the streets. The police force is trying to come back on line, but for now they’re outnumbered and outgunned. Eventually they’ll gain control, but right now it’s like Dodge City in some of the suburbs.”

     “Can’t the Army help?”

     “As much as we’d like to, we’re only about ten percent manned. The President has ordered us to stay out of it, and that even as ugly as it is, it’s a civilian matter. We’ve been specifically tasked with replenishing the food and water supplies for the survivors, which is more than we can handle already. So unfortunately, the only security assistance we can provide for the civilian populous is to put them up in abandoned dormitories or base housing units. But at least they’re safe there.

     “The other half of the complex used to be Kelly Air Force Base. At one time, Kelly and Lackland were attached and shared common runways. Kelly closed down years before the freeze, but the buildings are still there and still in great shape. That’s what made it ideal for our operation.”

     The chopper sat down on a very large “H” painted on a concrete apron just outside a series of huge hangars. The pilot shut down the engine and it suddenly became eerily quiet.

     As was Army tradition, the colonel was the first one to disembark the aircraft, followed closely by the crew.

     Montgomery told the pilot, “Nice job, as always, Captain Martin.”

     The captain said, “Thank you, sir,” and rendered a crisp military salute.

     Montgomery returned the gesture and said, “Follow me” to his guests.

     Montgomery climbed behind the wheel of a four seater Cushman golf cart, painted Army green with a white star on each side. Frank and Karen followed suit.

     They drove into the first hangar in a long line of hangars. Each could easily have accommodated a football field with room to spare on all sides.

     “This base was once the maintenance base for all of the Air Force’s big cargo and transport planes. They’d send all their C-5s and C-141s here for overhaul and routine maintenance, so they needed plenty of covered floor space. For that reason, it was ideal for our use.”

     They got off the cart and walked around the hangar. It was much brighter on the inside than Karen had ever imagined. And she was impressed by what she saw.

     “As you can see,” the colonel began,” We’ve turned the hangar into what is, in essence, the world’s largest greenhouse. By cutting away huge sections of the steel roof and wall structure and replacing them with pieces of clear Plexiglas, we’ve been able to let in enough sunshine to grow any crop you can imagine, in very large quantities.”

     Sure enough, row after row of planting boxes stretched as far as the eye could see. Each box was lush with vegetation.

     “This hangar is where we grow our tomatoes and beans. Amy,” the colonel asked of a woman who happened by. “How many varieties are we currently growing?”

     The woman beamed. She was obviously proud of her work and loved the occasional opportunity to brag about it.

     “Right now, sir, we’ve got seven varieties of tomatoes, ranging from cherries to Romas to beefsteaks. Last time I checked, we had twenty seven varieties of beans, from limas to greens to black eyed peas and sweet peas. I can get an exact count for you if you need it.”

     “No, thank you. A ballpark number is fine. You’re doing an outstanding job.”

     “Thank you, colonel.”