A Long Road Back: Final Dawn: Book 8 (21 page)

-42-

     While Brad and Rusty were hooking onto their second load, a fully-loaded Coca Cola trailer, David was gathering volunteers for a mission of his own.

     Frank was having some concerns with one volunteer in particular.

     “Eva, honey, you haven’t driven in years. And you weren’t very good at it even back then.”

     “You’d better watch it, husband of mine. Or I’ll give you a fat lip. And I’m just mean and ornery enough to do it.”

     Frank knew better.

     “You are not. And I’m sorry about my choice of words. The truth is, though, that you’re very much out of practice. I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

     “Frank, everybody’s out of practice. You haven’t driven much in the last ten years either. And you had more accidents than I did. But I’m not giving you a hard time.”

     “Well, good grief. That’s because
I’m
not the one talking about going all the way down to San Antonio and driving back an RV.”

     “A small RV, Frank. He said he only wanted Class C RVs.”

     “What in hell is a Class C RV? Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

     “Watch your language, honey, or I’ll belt you one.”

     She said it with a smile, but he got the message. Eva didn’t like it when he used salty language.

     David stepped in to mediate.

     “A Class C is a small RV, Frank. The ones designed for two to four people. They’re not much longer than a full-sized sedan. And you saw the highways when we went to San Antonio to visit Hannah. There’s almost no traffic at all. I’ll make sure she drives very slow. And if she starts running over little old ladies and jungle animals I’ll take the keys away from her, I promise.”

     “You’re not helping. If that was your intent, you’re failing miserably.”

     “Sorry. But seriously, I don’t expect we’ll be able to drive more than forty or forty five miles an hour as cluttered as the highways are. Even if she hits something it’s doubtful anyone will be hurt.”

     Eva looked at her husband and said, “And I’ll wear my seatbelt and say a prayer before I leave. Now stop being a worry wart, you old fool. I can help out around here just as much as you can.”

     Frank gave up. Eva was adamant. And she had Sami and David on her side.

     And maybe they were right. Eva often fretted that she wasn’t pulling her share of the weight around the compound. Maybe now, when they had a huge project and were short-handed, she’d have a chance to prove her mettle.

     Frank owed it to her to let her try.

     “Kiss me and promise me you’ll be careful.”

     “I’m pretty sure I already did.”

     She reached up and kissed him.

     “But I will again. I promise I’ll be careful.”

     David asked, “Are you all ready to go?”

     The five of them stood up: Sami, Joe, Eva, Steve and Debbie. Like ducklings following their mother, they followed him down the hall and out the door in a single file.

     Parked outside the big house, just inside the gate, was a Ford 250 pickup with a king cab. It seated six comfortably, and would be an enjoyable ride for the two hours it took them to get to the outskirts of San Antonio.

     David’s plan, as he’d relayed it to Frank, was simple.

     “We’re going to Johnson’s RV World. It’s on Interstate 10 just before you get to San Antonio. Before the freeze they used to advertise the biggest selection of motor homes in Texas. I know because one of my old friends from college was their television spokesperson, and I used to see his ugly mug on the TV all the time.

     “Why do we need more RVs? Y’all didn’t have enough last time?”

     “Yes. We did. But our population has grown a bit, and some of the kids aren’t kids any more. If we’re in there another seven years, God forbid, they’ll be adults and in need of their own quarters. Plus, you and I both know that if Marty and Lenny can’t get that prison ready in time, they’ll be knocking on our door looking for shelter. Probably with a lot of their friends.”

     That was a point Frank couldn’t argue.

     “So my plan is simple. I’m taking five people down there with me to drive back five small motor homes. The same size as the ones we already have in the mine. We’ll park them in the back of one of the bays. If we need them, they’ll be available. All we’ll have to do is place them in with the other RVs and dig septic tanks for them in the floor of the mine. If we don’t need them, no harm done. They’ll sit in the back of the mine and rot for all eternity. But it’s extra space we don’t need anyway.”

     “Is that all you’re getting, is five?”

     “No. My game plan is to go back four times within the next few weeks, and to bring back five each time. That’s a total of twenty, in case the math’s too tough for you.”

     “What if they won’t start after all this time? Most car and truck batteries are shot after all these years of sitting unused. I imagine RV batteries are the same.”

     “I already thought of that, Frank. I loaded five dry cell batteries from one of the storage bays in the mine. And some acid to fill them with. They’ll crank right up the first try. Once we get them here, we’ll take our good batteries back off of them and take them back to San Antonio on the next trip. And the two trips after that.

     “And before you mention it, I’m taking several jerry cans full of gasoline too. Just in case their tanks are dry.”

     “Sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into it.”

     “Yeah, well, there are a lot of people around here who want to contribute. This will give them a way to do it.”

     Rachel called in from the gate.

     “Frank, this is Rachel. They’re ready to go.”

     Frank checked his monitors to make sure there was no one lurking outside the gate.

     “You’re all clear. Let them out.”

     Then he said a silent prayer for their safe return.

-43-

     Marty, meanwhile, had his own project to deal with. He put a sign on the front door of the storefront the tiny police department used as an office.

     It said,

At Eden Federal Prison.

Please leave note.

     Short. Sweet. To the point.

     Marty didn’t expect to return to his office to find his office door buried in sticky notes. The prison was only four blocks away. An easy walk, even for the aged or the timid who never ventured far from their homes. If anyone had needed something important, they’d have made the stroll to the prison in not much more time it would have taken to write the note.

     The truth was, more often than not he’d go a whole day at the office without a single visitor.

     There wasn’t a lot of activity going on in and around the tiny berg of Eden, Texas that required police oversight or involvement.

     Until the recent murder, of course. But that would sit on the back burner for a few days.

     When he and Glenna left the compound after learning of Cupid 23, they’d paid Lenny Geibel a visit. Lenny had been running the Trucker’s Paradise truck stop since Marty took the police chief’s job in Eden, and was doing a pretty good job of it.

     Not that it was much of a job.

     The Trucker’s Paradise wasn’t a money-making operation. Not anymore. He and Lenny had reopened it after the thaw as a public service, really. That and because they were bored and needed something to do with their time. The world was starting to get back to normal now, albeit with a much smaller population.

     Lenny’s days were spent helping travelers who were finding ways to get their cars started and who were starting to venture out again.

     He didn’t get paid for doing what he did, but then again he didn’t expect to. The items he stocked on the truck stop’s shelves, and which were given away free to travelers, didn’t cost him a dime. They came from the hundreds of trailers that were abandoned in and around the truck stop, and in the massive field behind it.

     Lenny had been sitting in the manager’s office, his feet propped up on the desk and listening to a Jenni Dale Lord CD. His eyes were closed and his feet rocked back and forth in time to
Lover, Don’t Leave
.

     He was lost in the music, and in his own thoughts, and didn’t even realize he had company until Marty slapped his feet down from the desk.

     “Wake up, you lollygagger. Do some work for a damn change.”

     His eyes opened, a bit embarrassed that he’d been caught loafing.

     “Damn it, Marty. I do plenty of work around here. I work my ass off, and I don’t even know what a lollygagger is.”

     “You don’t know what a lollygagger is? Go look in your restroom. There’s one who hangs around in the window above your sink.”

     “Yeah, yeah. Why are you here? I thought I got rid of you when you went off to be a keystone cop in that little bitty town of yours.”

     “You’ll never get rid of me. Not as long as I have to come by here occasionally and wake you up. Besides, I have something important to talk to you about.”

     “I wasn’t sleeping, by God. I was listening to music. And what’s so important that you had to come all the way over here when you could have called me on the radio?”

     “This is something I can’t discuss over the radio.”

     Lenny’s ears perked up and he suddenly developed an interest in Marty’s words.

     “Why? What is it?”

     Glenna couldn’t stand dust. She picked up a seldom-used cleaning rag from the coffee table and started dusting the office.

     Marty made himself comfortable on the expansive leather couch and started, “Do you remember Saris 7? The meteorite that crashed into the earth ten years ago?”

     Lenny gave him a “duh” face. Like he could forget such a thing.

     “Yeah. So?”

     “So, we just came from Mark and Hannah Snyder’s compound. Hannah thinks it’s gonna happen again.”

     “Whaaat?”

     Marty’s eyes moistened.

     He remembered the days during the freeze. The days when he almost gave up and ended it all, like so many millions of others had done. The days when it was only Marty’s encouragement, and chiding, that made him go on.

     He barely survived the first freeze. He was almost certain he couldn’t do it again.

     Marty saw the distress his words had caused, and wished he could have coached them differently.

     Or maybe not. Lenny had to know the truth, painful as it was. And there was no way to sugarcoat the news.

     “Don’t panic yet, Lenny. She said that Sarah was just as certain it wasn’t going to happen. Unfortunately, Sarah is in a medically-induced coma in San Antonio and can’t argue her side of the case.”

     Lenny was still stunned, but he found a few words. They were weak, almost unintelligible.

     “When is this supposed to happen?”

     “She didn’t know. And apparently NASA couldn’t tell her because NASA has gone out of business for good. She said if Sarah is right, then it’s already sailed right past us or will eventually. But if Hannah’s right instead, it could be tomorrow, or five years from now. Hell, it could happen five minutes from now, for all she knows.”

     “That’s not very specific.”

     “No shit.”

     “So what do we do?”

     “That’s why I’m here. I’m gonna turn the old prison in Eden into a shelter for the citizens of Eden and for you and our friends here. And I need your help to do it.”