Survival: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival series (Cloverdale Book 2) Read online

  Vince and his small team could keep in touch with the others thanks to John. John had a couple of handheld radios with him, along with the other supplies he had in his Bronco. Fortunately, he was able to clean out his patrol car before it went up in flames. To their arsenal he added his .45-caliber Glock G21 service pistol, a Colt AR-15 chambered in .223, and another 12-gauge Remington shotgun. He had a decent amount of ammo for all of the guns he brought with him, and Vince was beginning to feel better about their situation and their ability to defend themselves.

  As grateful as Vince was to have the additional weapons, he was most thankful for the two-way radios. He would have liked to have a couple more, but it was better than having no communication at all. If something happened in town while Vince and his team were away, they could at least be notified and head back as quickly as they could to help. And if they needed backup, the others were there for them as well, although Vince would need a good reason to call for help and take them away from the relative safety of the motel.

  Vince glanced at his watch and noted that it was almost 6:00 p.m. With the waning sunlight struggling to break through the still-thick air, it seemed much later than that. Darkness would come early, like it had the past few nights, thanks to the dark gray cloud of smoke that hung ominously over the town. They needed to leave soon if they were going to make it back before nightfall, although it might already be too late for that.

  The roads were tough enough to navigate during the daylight hours. With any luck, one of them would be driving the loader back, and it might or might not have working lights. Vince had never driven a piece of equipment that large before, and neither had any of the others. He was confident one of them would figure it out, but the articulated steering would be tricky to get used to and might make it tough to navigate on a road littered with obstacles.

  On top of all that, they had to hotwire the loader. He figured that would fall on his and Cy’s shoulders, and he was glad Cy would be with him to help figure it out. If they couldn’t find the key, they would have to hotwire the thing, and that might take a little time to work out. Vince had never hotwired a car before, but he understood the basic concept. Still, there were no guarantees that a commercial loader would have wiring that even resembled that of a passenger car.

  He planned on grabbing an assortment of tools from the garage. Then it would be up to him and Cy to figure it out together when they got there. Add in the very real possibility of having another run-in with the looters and the odds quickly began to stack up against them. Hotwiring the loader would be a challenge, but doing so under gunfire would be something entirely different.

  With any luck, they’d be able to slip in and grab the loader unnoticed. The quarry was only about six or seven miles past the interstate on the other side of town. Funny how it never seemed as far away as it did right now.

  They decided to take Jim’s Jeep. The old CJ-7 had a soft top that could be put down, giving them a clear shot out of the vehicle in almost any direction. Vince hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but if it did, shooting from the open Jeep would be easier than shooting from a closed-in vehicle. Of course, they would also be more exposed, but it was a risk they were going to have to take.

  They loaded up and headed over to his garage so Vince could grab a few tools. He ran inside and gathered a hammer, pliers, a few screwdrivers, wire-strippers, and some electrical tape. He’d never attempted to hotwire a vehicle, so he paused for a moment to have a look around the garage. He wasn’t sure what else to take and decided to go with what he had. Maybe he’d catch a break, find the key to the loader, and wouldn’t need any of these things. He threw the tools in a bag and hurried back to the others in the Jeep outside.

  “All set?” John asked from the driver’s seat.

  “I think so.” Vince threw the bag of tools on the floor by his feet and looked back at Cy, who was sitting in the back with Tom. Both Cy and Tom carried AR-15s. John had his Glock holstered on his hip and the 12-gauge stuffed between his seat and the center console. Vince was only carrying his .45, figuring he’d have his hands full with the tools and hopefully operating the loader.

  Vince squeezed the button on the handheld radio with his thumb. “Come in, Fred. Do you copy? Over.”

  “Roger that,” Fred replied. “Loud and clear.”

  Vince was glad to hear Fred using proper radio protocol. He had stressed how important it was to communicate correctly with the radios and hoped Fred didn’t think he was being too picky. But he knew that in a high-stress situation, following proper procedure was important to ensure that the lines stayed clear of any unnecessary chatter. It was also important to end with the message “over” so that the other person knew when it was clear to speak and both sides weren’t trying to talk over each other. In Vince’s mind, there was hardly anything more annoying than someone who was button-happy on the radio.

  As they pulled out of the garage parking lot and drove toward the quarry, Vince waved to Fred, who acknowledged him from his watch position in the Ford pickup at the edge of the motel parking lot. They quickly lost sight of him and the motel as they headed out of town and navigated their way through the wrecks and burned-out vehicles that littered the road.

  John slowly picked up speed as they approached the interstate overpass. Vince glanced back at his son, but Cy was preoccupied with the scenery and keeping a lookout for the looters, like they had discussed. Vince was proud of the boy and stopped mid-thought to remind himself that he was no longer a boy. Cy was a man now and had been for some time. The world they now faced would wash away what little innocence remained of his youth.

  Vince focused on the road ahead and helped John navigate. He hoped they weren’t attempting this too soon and began to second-guess the plan as they lost sight of town altogether. Reminding himself that they really had no choice was of little consolation.

  Chapter Six

  As they approached the underpass that led to the other side of I-70, they drove by what remained of a burned-out McDonald’s on the right-hand side of the road and a still-smoldering pile of rubble that had been the Royal Travel Plaza. No one said anything as they gawked at what was left of the familiar landmarks that once greeted people entering Cloverdale from the busy interstate.

  The quarry was only a few miles north of town, and the property itself started just after the exit ramps to I-70 on the left-hand side of the road. Vince didn’t know for sure how big it was, but he guessed it had to be a few thousand acres, including the large blue water-filled quarry pits that lay at the closest point along the road.

  Unfortunately, the quarry entrance was located on the north side of the property and would require them to continue for a few more miles before they reached 800 South and made the left that would lead them to the gravel yard.

  That was where Vince had seen the equipment parked the last time he was out this way. A new section of the quarry had recently been opened, and the workers had just started digging the new pit only a few months ago. Vince was glad the loader was closer to the front of the property and that they wouldn’t have to go too far into the yard to reach it, but a part of him wished it wasn’t so close to the road.

  The plan was simple, really: Vince and Cy would try to start one of the loaders while John and Fred kept an eye out. They’d check out the quarry office first to see if it was still standing and to look for the keys, but based on what Vince had seen, he wasn’t holding out much hope of the building still being there.

  John slowed down as they approached 800 South, and he was forced to cut across the corner of the intersection in order to avoid what was left of an eighteen-wheeler. Its early-morning gravel run unexpectedly interrupted by the EMPs, the truck blocked the small two-lane road leading to the quarry and had long since burned down to the frame. Its fiberglass and plastic sleeper cab was barely recognizable. Melted and still smoking, the truck’s plastic parts had run down the frame and poured across the blacktop like a cooling lava flow. Vince wondered if the driver ha
d escaped or been reduced to ashes and was now part of the melted mess.

  These were the types of things Vince was worried about. How many trucks and other vehicles had fused themselves to the road due to the intense heat of the unchecked fires. As they passed the truck and drove back on the road, he wondered if the loader would even have enough power to clear a mess like that. It looked pretty permanent to him, and wrecks like this wouldn’t get any easier to push off the road as things cooled and solidified in place.

  John made the next left into the quarry entrance and slowed down as the Jeep bounced over the rough gravel road that led past the main office. The chain-link gate was wide open, and Vince was thankful for that as he realized he probably should have brought a pair of bolt-cutters with him.

  “I guess there’s no point in looking for keys,” John said. The quarry office was no longer there; in its place was a pile of charred and smoking debris. It was no surprise, and Vince had expected as much. Nobody paid much attention to it as they drove past and headed deeper into the quarry.

  The road narrowed as they passed a section bordered by an abandoned gravel pit filled with dark blue water to their left and towering piles of aggregate to their right. Vince felt uneasy, knowing that this was the only way in and out of the quarry. It was a definite choke point if someone wanted to block their exit. If the looters came after them, they could easily close the road off, leaving them no choice but to fight their way out.

  Vince looked around nervously in every direction but didn’t see anything he considered suspicions. Although he tried to calm his nerves, he couldn’t deny the feeling that they were being watched. He tried to convince himself he was just being paranoid. It didn’t help put his mind at ease, and he couldn’t shake it. The narrow road and the fact that the sky was darkening by the minute wasn’t helping.

  “What’s wrong?” Cy asked.

  “Nothing. Just keep your eyes peeled.” Vince didn’t want to let on how bothered he was, but he suspected that John felt the same by the way he was scanning their surroundings. The expression on John’s face was tense and he hadn’t said a word since they passed the burned-down office.

  Vince looked at John. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t like it,” John answered. “This is the only way in or out of here.”

  Tom leaned forward between the seats, biting his lip. “You think we should go back? Maybe we should go back.”

  “No, we’re here. Let’s do what we came to do and get out of here as soon as we can,” Vince said.

  “Agreed.” John nodded and sped up. The road took a sharp right turn and then spilled into a wide-open yard with heavy equipment on the far side. There were a handful of machines in the yard, but an old John Deer 544B caught Vince’s eye. He wasn’t very familiar with heavy equipment outside of tractors, but he recognized that it was an older loader by the body styling and the dull yellow paint that was half flaked off the rusty exterior.

  Vince pointed. “Let’s try that one over there.” He and Cy gathered the tools and their weapons as John headed toward the old loader. He swung the Jeep around in a wide turn and slid to a stop in the loose gravel.

  “I’ll head back out toward the entrance and wait there,” John said.

  “Don’t go too far,” Vince said, glancing at the cab of the enclosed loader. “I’m not even sure we can get this thing started. Plus, you’ll have to give one of us a ride back. There’s only room for one in there.”

  “We’ll wait up there, where the yard opens up after the curve. We won’t let you out of our sight.” John nodded as Cy climbed over the back seat and jumped out of the open Jeep. He joined his dad as John began to pull away and head toward the entrance.

  Tools and guns in hand, Vince and Cy started over to the loader. Vince glanced back at the dimming taillights on the Jeep and suddenly felt very alone. The crunch of gravel under their feet was the only sound, and an eerie silence fell over them. He continued to watch as the Jeep almost disappeared halfway around the sharp turn and into the yard before the brake lights lit up and it stopped. He was hoping John would stay a little closer to them, but he probably figured their biggest threat would come from the road. It was the smart thing to do, and Vince tried to put the uneasiness out of his mind and focus his attention on the loader.

  * * *

  Cy was already halfway up the metal stair treads that led to the cab of the loader by the time his dad joined him near the equipment. He had wanted to take the lead on this and prove himself to his father.

  He often wondered if his dad really respected him as a mechanic, mostly due to the fact that he worked on bikes for a living. They teased each other on occasion, but he couldn’t help but think some of the jokes his dad made about him working on motorcycles were genuine.

  If he could figure out how to start this loader on his own, it would put an end to any doubts his dad had about his abilities. And Cy had good reason to believe he could do it. After all, he had an ace up his sleeve. This wasn’t the first time he had attempted to hotwire a piece of construction equipment.

  When Cy was in high school, he used to hang out with a group of friends who rode dirt bikes on the weekends and any chance they could get. One of those friends lived in a new housing development on the outskirts of town. The area was a dirt biker’s dream. The unfinished roads and empty acreage provided miles of riding fun. But being the rowdy teens that they were, it wasn’t enough to keep them out of trouble.

  On one Saturday night in particular, one of his friends proposed the idea of using the developer’s dirt-moving equipment to build some jumps. Of course, this required hotwiring one of the loaders on site and a lack of better judgment on Cy’s part. He was the one to figure out how to start the thing and, unfortunately, the one who got caught driving it when the cops showed up. It turned out that driving a large, yellow, brightly lit machine around in the middle of the night wasn’t something the residents of the development were willing to ignore.

  It was the dumbest thing he’d ever been a part of and he regretted it to this day. Fortunately, his mother knew the developer and was able to smooth things over for him and his friends. No charges were filed, and she agreed not to tell his father about the incident, something he was very thankful for, although he wasn’t sure if keeping the secret was for his sake or hers.

  None of that mattered anymore and seemed like it was a lifetime ago. He briefly thought about sharing the story with his dad but decided not to right now. Instead, he chose to concentrate on the task at hand. There would be time for that later, and it would probably go over better if he was successful.

  As he searched for a key in the obvious places, the reality of the situation set in. It wasn’t going to be that easy. Not that he had any illusions about what they were doing, but he hadn’t ruled out finding a key tucked away under a visor or the seat. That only happened in the movies anyway, right?

  “Any luck finding a key?” Vince asked.

  Cy looked down at his dad on the ground below. “Nothing.”

  “Want me to take a look?” Vince started up the metal treads.

  “I got it.” Cy backed out of the cab, partway blocking Vince’s ascent, and got under the console near the ignition. “Maybe hold a light for me.” He expected an argument from his dad but was surprised when Vince simply turned his flashlight in his direction and remained silent.

  The pressure was on. Not only was everyone counting on them to bring back the loader, but now he had to prove to his dad that he could rise to the challenge and get this done. On top of that, he couldn’t help but wonder if they would have a run-in with the looters again while they were out.

  Chapter Seven

  Cy struggled to make sense of the rat’s nest of multicolored wires under the console as the inadequate light from his dad’s flashlight dimly lit the cab of the loader. All he needed to do was isolate the wires coming off the ignition, but the years of quarry dust had caked onto them, making it difficult to distinguish what was wha
t. The fact that he had contorted himself into a very uncomfortable position in order to see under the console wasn’t helping matters, either.

  “Can you hand me the wire-strippers?” Cy asked. He heard his dad rummaging through the bag of tools before he felt the rubber handle make contact with his outstretched hand.

  “There you go. What do you think?” Vince strained to see what Cy was doing.

  “I think I need to knock some of this dirt off of the wires so I can see what I’m doing under here.”

  Cy used the tool as a small club and clumsily smacked the cluster of wires a few times. Without room to pull his head out from under the console, he closed his eyes and grimaced as fine gravel dust fell from the wires and coated his face.

  “Oh, man. That was nice.” Cy spit out some of the dirt that had landed in his mouth and felt the grit crunch between his teeth. But it was a small price to pay for making out the color-coded wires that ran out of the ignition switch.

  He spit out another mixture of saliva and dirt as he carefully picked out the ignition wire and the starter wire from the cluster. Using the blunt jaws of the wire-stripper, he firmly gripped the first wire and slowly but forcefully pulled it out of the ignition switch. Then he did the same for the second wire.

  Next, he stripped the ends of both wires until he had about an inch or so of exposed frayed wire at the ends. Then he twisted those together individually until they were neat and tight spirals. This was it—the moment of truth.

  “Well, here goes nothing.”

  “You better make sure it’s…” But before Vince could get the words out, Cy touched the two bare ends together and was rewarded with a spark followed by a loud cough from the engine. The large machine lurched from its position and threw Cy into the console, where he hit his head against the unforgiving steel frame of the cab.