Percy's Mission (18 page)

One of the things Buddy had retrieved from the house was a Stoeger double barrel Coach shotgun. “I don’t think so,” he said forcefully, striding up and blocking the man from closing the door of the truck. “Get out!”
Hands in the air, the man slowly slid out of the truck and stepped away. A few steps, and then he turned and ran back to continue loading his car with what looked like to Buddy, totally useless household items.
Buddy took another moment and strapped on the UM-84 holster rigged tanker style for his primary handgun, a Colt 1911A1. He set the shotgun and the rest of his small collection of weapons in the cab, along with a musette bag with ready ammunition for the pistol and rifles. He added four fifty-caliber ammunition boxes full of additional ammunition to the truck.
He tried to reach Charlene on the FRS radio. No response. Buddy put the truck in gear and pulled out of the driveway, headed toward Charlene’s shop. It took only a moment to read the note taped on the front door. “Gone to the house to get Big Bob.”
She done the identical thing that he had done. Her car wasn’t in her regular parking slot so Buddy assumed the EMP hadn’t damaged it. He drove over to her house and found another note. It was simple. “Shelter.”
Wishing she were with him, instead of on her own, at least Buddy knew she was alive and heading for the shelter. He headed that way himself. The survey meter was still clicking, but Buddy took a moment to glance at the meter. Still under 0.5 R/hr. If it didn’t get much worse for a bit he would be okay.
The roads were jammed. Like quite a few others Buddy put his rig in four-wheel-drive and left the pavement. He’d made careful observations on several different routes out of different parts of the city toward the shelter. He knew where he could stay off pavement and get somewhere and where he had to use the regular roads.
Once he had to use the truck to help push three vehicles off the road that were not working. He didn’t ask if it was lack of fuel or EMP damage. He and another man in a pickup just used their front bumpers to get the vehicles out of the way.
Buddy did a double take when he saw Charlene’s car up ahead. Charlene was taking a bike similar to Buddy’s off the rear rack where she carried it when Buddy got up to her. As horns honked, Buddy stopped and jumped out of the truck to help Charlene load the bike into the truck.
It took less than a minute and Charlene was climbing into the passenger side of the truck and Buddy was moving again. Traffic on this section of the interstate was moving well, but Buddy saw what was shaping up to be a major traffic jam ahead.
“Thank you, Buddy!” Charlene finally managed to say. “I wasn’t sure if I would make it on the bike. My car just quit as I was driving. I was having trouble keeping it running since this all started. I thought I was going to just have to take the bike up from the shop, but I finally got it started.”
Buddy reached over and squeezed Charlene’s hand for a moment. “Yeah. I had to bike from the job home. I’m glad I started unhooking the electronics in the truck. If you’ll notice, it’s mostly really old vehicles still running.”
Charlene looked around at the traffic. Buddy was right. There were a few new models, but the majority was older models.
“Time to take route B,” Buddy said and took the next exit. Traffic was backed up almost to the interchange.
“What do you mean?” Charlene asked.
“Road ahead is blocked. We’re taking the railroad right of way past the blockage. If we can we’ll get back on the Interstate. If not, the railroad will take us all the way to the county road. I know we can get off there. Just keep your eyes peeled for an oncoming train.”
Instead of crossing the tracks that paralleled the Interstate and crossed the intersecting road, Buddy turned onto the tracks. It was something of a rough ride as the tires went over the ties supporting the track, but Buddy was afraid to try to run on the tracks themselves. It would be hard on the tires, for one thing. He didn’t think he could keep on the tracks, anyway. At least not at speed.
Apparently someone had seen what he was doing and tried to emulate his actions. Unfortunately they were in a car. The width between the wheels was enough to get the tires on the tracks, but as soon as a little twitch of the wheel bounced them off the track onto the ties the car slid to a stop. The car underside was resting on the tracks. The tires were touching the ties, but there wasn’t enough traction for the car to move.
Buddy kept checking the rearview mirror, to make sure a train didn’t come up on him unexpectedly. He was sure that the car would be moved off the tracks by someone else wanting to use the tracks the same way he was.
Fortunately, the only time they did have to get off the tracks to allow a train past, there was a good place in which to do it. From the looks of the front of the train someone else had been on the tracks and didn’t get off them in time. There were pieces of an automobile hanging from the front coupler of the engine.
The next train was still some distance ahead when they reached the county road and turned off the tracks. The top of the mushroom cloud had broadened significantly. There had been a bit of very fine dust coming down, with the survey needle slowly creeping up from 0.5 R/hr to 0.6 R/hr during the time they’d traveled.
The railroad tracks had been a much more direct path toward the shelter than the roads they normally had to use. It was fortunate because much heavier fallout began and the survey meter jumped up to 200 R/hr. “Hang on,” Buddy said. “I’m going to speed up. It was only another mile to the gate.
Charlene started to get out to get the gate, but Buddy said, “The radiation. Stay inside. I’ll get it.” She didn’t argue, just hopped over and drove through the gate when Buddy opened it. She noted that he took the time to close and relock it. He brushed off as much of the fallout that had accumulated on him as he could, then climbed back into the truck.
Charlene held on tight as they bounced over the rough terrain that was the road to the shelter. Buddy pulled onto the concrete under the roofed area between the barrier wall and the shelter. This time Charlene got out of the truck before Buddy could protest. She ran to the entrance of the shelter and went inside to open the garage doors.
Buddy hopped out as well, and as Charlene struggled to open one half of the sliding doors, he pushed open the other. As soon as there was clearance, he got back into the truck and backed it inside.
When they had the doors closed again Buddy called over to Charlene to get a water hose. He washed down first Charlene, then himself. Then he, with Charlene’s help, washed down the truck and its contents. The contaminated water ran to a floor drain near the garage door and ultimately to the gully.
It was cool in the underground shelter and Charlene and Buddy were both shivering by the time they were finished. Buddy hustled Charlene into the trailer, grabbed a robe from a closet, handed it to Charlene and pointed to the bathroom.
When she’d had a hot shower and had changed clothes, she went out and continued stacking the concrete blocks in front of the windows and doorways that Buddy had started. He hurried inside the trailer and got his shower and changed clothes. He came back out carrying the damp clothes, holding them well away from his body.
“I’m quarantining these till we have a chance to decontaminate them better.”
Charlene nodded. Buddy got the survey meter from the truck and went over to Charlene. “Hold up a minute. Let’s see how we’re doing, radiation wise.”
He ran the survey meter all around Charlene. There was the occasional click and the needle of the meter would wiggle, but it was doing that anyway. There was no appreciably greater intensity of radiation on either of them than the background radiation.
Charlene rested as Buddy checked the rest of the shelter for radiation leaks. Only at the big door and the windows was there any appreciable radiation. Buddy helped Charlene finish stacking the solid concrete blocks to increase the shielding at the big door and the windows. The personnel entryways, with their shielded right angle turns and heavy lead lined steel doors were fine.
When all the additional shielding was in place they took another break. Charlene just looked at Buddy for a moment, and then stepped into his arms. He held her for a long time as she cried. He shed a few tears himself. How was his brother and his brother’s family faring?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Charlie was only able to stay in the stacked concrete pipe for another few days. The ground was excavated and the pipes placed and buried. But that wasn’t such a bad thing, it turned out. Though the piping was installed, it would be some time before the pipe would be in use.
As it was, Charlie had access to one end of the line. He also had access to the freshly poured basement of the building. He was cautioned about being caught in the building, but Clyde didn’t run him off when he started using both places. With the work at the golf course, and the occasional clean up job there at the building site, Charlie was doing okay.
He was able to get a package of disposable razors to replace the single one he’d been using for a couple of weeks. Though he didn’t need it at the moment, he found and purchased a nice woolen overcoat at a thrift store nearby. He used it as extra padding for his bed, which was still primarily discarded newspapers, of which he had a good supply.
The previous winter had been a rough one on him. Something else he stocked up on was some extra food. Like the coat, he didn’t particularly need it at the moment, but one never knew. Ramen noodles were light and didn’t take up all that much space.
He bought another bottle of vitamins and some protein bars, too. All in all, he was feeling pretty good. He always read the newspapers before he added them to his bedroll and the reports he was reading were the only thing bothering him at the moment.
Several of the workers were leaving partial lunches behind, which he scavenged every evening. He was getting more than enough food. He checked the dumpster carefully for things other than food, and found a few more items it contained from the construction site to make his life a bit easier. He’d need to move on before winter, as the building would be mostly complete by then. The dumpster was emptied every morning for the next round of cleanup from the site.
Since the dumpster was outside of the fence, some of the locals had begun using it to get rid of trash after the construction shut down each afternoon. Charlie was able to cull a few useful items from those things that had come from other than the construction site.
When Charlie went down into the basement that evening he noted the tiny trickle of water leaking in at one of the joints of the drainpipe. He’d told Clyde about it and Clyde had asked Charlie to keep an eye on it. If it got worse, Charlie was to let Clyde know.
Clyde wasn’t concerned with the water coming in the drainpipe. He was worried about where it was coming from. There was a twenty-inch main water line running just four feet from the drain tile. If it was leaking, the construction company was going to wind having to pay for the repairs. They’d be blamed for sure, no matter what actually caused the leak.
Charlie shook his head and smiled. The leak wasn’t bothering him. Actually it was to his advantage. It had not been hard to work a soda straw from a discarded fast food cup into the crack where the leak was. It didn’t divert all the water to the container he placed under the end of the straw, but it did catch most of it. He wouldn’t drink it, but he did use it to wash with.
He counted up his money. He had more things now than when he’d first got to this part of town, and even had more money left than when he’d arrived. Charlie was tempted to go back to the thrift shop and get a suit, shirt, tie, and shoes to try to find a job in the area. But it would take all the cash he had at the moment and he was reluctant to do that. Things were just too uncertain.
He might have to leave at any time if those having the building constructed found out he was living here. Charlie sighed. Things were definitely better than he’d had it in a long while, but they were far from perfect. He hadn’t had a drink since he finished the bottle when he first got here.
Charlie went out the following morning, to take a long walk as was his usual practice now that he wasn’t walking most of the day, dumpster diving. He studied the building as he walked back toward it. It was definitely coming along. When finished it would be five stories. They were working on the second floor steelwork now. Upon seeing the group of fancy cars parked at the gate, Charlie changed his path and skirted the construction site. The bigwigs were there to do an inspection.
Charlie stayed out of sight, out of mind, for most of the day. He wound up making a few dollars helping clean out a burned out store. He’d gone past and seen some men working and asked if they needed help. They hired him on the spot. He was soot and ash coated when he got back to the construction site late that afternoon. Clyde was just locking up the gate.
“I was a bit worried about you. That chintzy banker was here today, looking things over. You’d think the building was his. He is going to have a small branch facility on the first floor, but he acted as if the whole thing was his. You doing okay? You’re a mess.”
“Helped clean up where they had that fire last week.”
“Oh. Come on over to the truck. My wife was cleaning closets and was giving stuff to Goodwill. I thought you might want a few of the items. What you don’t want I’ll drop off down there.”
“Clyde, you don’t have to do stuff like this. I still think it was you started leaving those partial lunches behind.” But Charlie went over to the truck. He was a practical man. There were several items of clothing he could use, but that was about it. Charlie thanked Clyde and headed to what he was referring, at least to himself, as his lair.
It was cool, as always, in the drain tile, but Charley stripped, washed himself thoroughly, shaved, and put on some of the clothing he’d received from Clyde. Feeling a new man, he sat down to work on a project. He’d been accumulating pieces and parts to construct a handcart to carry his stuff. He had quite a bit more stuff than would fit in just two buckets. He had several more, now, but there was no good way to carry more than two. Unless he had a cart.