Avalon: The Retreat (5 page)

Having set four more that completed the large arch, he strung and attached a trip wire to each of them and began the tedious task of removing the safety pins. He placed the pins in a small pocket on his vest to use again later; he didn’t want to lose those babies.

When his defensive perimeter was complete, he walked over to his bike and pushed it behind the bushes that hid the entry to the cave. As he stepped into the “Roach Hotel,” as they fondly referred to it, he let the guard know not to shoot him.

“Friendly One”

“Pass through, brother,” came the reply.

He was home for the night.

Inside, the light from the new fire was bright and flickering. It burned fiercely from its dry and seasoned wood, and Mike saw there were three more group members added to their numbers. They had arrived earlier and waited, as planned. He noticed the fire was being drawn to the rear of the cave and up the “chimney” as he predicted it would when they first stumbled onto the hideout.

Chad, Linda, and Penny were already here. Not everyone had made it on schedule, however, and there were still members missing. Caroline approached Mike and began to clean a few scratches he had received from chopping the blackberry bushes. They stung but once she put a dab or two of antibiotic ointment on them, the stinging stopped. Mike took some of the food she offered and gobbled it down quickly. He had forgotten how hungry he was. Pemmican, regardless of its sustaining qualities, couldn’t compare with a hot meal.

“The coffee’s boiling,” Caroline mentioned. “Anyone want some?”

“I do, thank you,” Mike said, and he noticed she was smiling at him when she spoke. “Incidentally, everyone, I have Claymores out there,” Mike said, “So if anyone needs to go to the bathroom, don’t go straight or left; go right and no more than five feet.”

A couple of the women grumbled, but everyone relaxed as they ate the simple meal before them. Conversations flowed back and forth, and in a few minutes they drew straws to see who would stand the first watch while the others slept and dried out.

Someone had chopped down a few saplings, limbed them, and put up a drying line for everyone’s wet clothes. They arranged them in a tripod position on each end and tied them together at the top of the three poles with some parachute cord, or paracord for short. It was lightweight and surprisingly strong. Mike was impressed at how far they had advanced from when he had started training them a few years ago. All that training was paying off in a big way because he no longer had to do it all himself.

Once they set the watch, they could strip down to the essentials and dry out. They placed everything away from the fire and near a wall that prevented the dripping from interfering with the sleep area. The cave was large and everything fit nicely without being crowded, including the motorcycles. Mikes was the exception; his was staged outside in case it was needed on short notice.

Greg and Sam drew the first watch, which was planned for four hours. One stood at the entry to the cave, while the other was positioned in a small stand of bushes a little farther out. Both of them were well-hidden but had a good view of all approaches to the cave and away from the Claymores.

The cooking and cleanup was done, all the coffee was consumed, and now it was time to shed some clothes for drying. Mike began to set up the sleeping area. With a stiff branch, he gently swept the floor of the cave.

It would be uneasy sleeping if one of them was lying on a rock or twig all night long. He placed a piece of 20 mil plastic sheeting down on the dirt floor as a moisture barrier to prevent the sleeping bags from getting wet and making it a more comfortable night’s sleep. It also eliminated the need to hang the sleeping bags out to dry the next day, since they were in a hurry and waiting for them to dry wasn’t an option.

Some members preferred a small isolation mat that added a half-inch cushion and provided further insulation. They were similar to a mattress, but not as thick or heavy and often referred to as “trail beds.” They were more comfortable but bulkier to carry.

Regardless, the group was prepared and the constant interaction with one another these past years had adequately readied each of them for almost anything. Everyone stripped the articles of clothing they wanted to dry, hung them up, and crawled into their bags.

It made Mike laugh as he thought about it. Years ago when he first practiced this situation with these people, they were out in the open and a squall came through and soaked everyone. He showed them how to set up a shelter and a drying line for the wet clothes and how to get a fire going in quick succession.

When he started stripping off his clothes, however, they all stood there watching him. He didn’t even take notice that they weren’t doing the same. It suddenly dawned on him what the problem was and he uttered hastily, “Look people, when stripping down to your underwear, you aren’t naked, you still have on clothing. You wear bathing suits don’t ya? Besides, sitting around in wet clothes will get you sick!”

They stripped down as he had done and that was the last time anyone ever hesitated. Now here they were years later with everyone working effectively as a team. They had gotten the necessary things done smoothly and even stood watch without question.

Thinking about it, Mike knew the next watch standers would suffer once awakened from a sound sleep and he was glad it wasn’t going to be him. His mind raced with the events of the day but he used an old trick of relaxation he had learned many years ago, and in thirty seconds he departed into a delicious dream that included Caroline.

Man, Mike’s subconscious focused on her, she had great legs!

An explosion brought everyone awake and Mike was the first out the door, clenching his shooter. Outside and barely visible, Greg was holding his SMG to his chest and pointed away from himself. Mike went out further and there was Sam, looking bewildered. He shrugged his shoulders in an “I don’t know what it was” gesture.

Mike had an idea and he cautiously worked his way toward some bushes that were on fire… right where he had planted a Claymore.

Mike approached the burned area with caution. Something flopped around on the ground and his thumb flipped the selector from semi-automatic to full rock-and-roll. The light of the burning vegetation was fizzling out because of the rain and smell of burnt flesh, and the exploded gunpowder hung thickly in the air. It was still dark, and as Mike closed the distance, he saw a deer lying on the ground.

“Crap!”

What a waste of a good Claymore. He shot the deer once in the head, putting it out of its misery and dragged it back toward the cave. The others waited in anticipation for him to come back and they were all relieved when they saw he was not dragging a person.

Mike busied himself gutting the animal and someone else cut and set in place a couple of sturdy poles with a cross piece tied to the top to hang the carcass until the morning. Truth be told, Mike was anxious to get back into his sleeping bag. He knew tomorrow was going to be a long day.

A quickie clean up with the assistance of Caroline and it was sack time again. The adrenaline still coursed through his system and he knew getting back to sleep wouldn’t be easy. He closed his eyes and counted backward, again using a system he had learned years ago. “Ten, I am relaxing…, nine, I am getting sleepy…” and soon he was fast asleep. It was dawn when he woke up again.

They decided to stash the empty gas cans in the cave once the bikes were topped off; they then gathered and placed the trash toward the back of the cave, as well. Mike applied a little chain lube to his bike chain and did the same to Caroline’s. Breakfast was started.

Mike went to work on the deer and soon had it cut up into nice manageable pieces. It would make great pemmican, but the meat had to age first. Ordinarily, he would not have done the butchering so soon and would have preferred to let it hang, but there was no opportunity at times like these. It would have been difficult to haul the whole carcass on just one bike and he wasn’t about to let the meat go to waste. They carefully wrapped the useable meat in a garbage bag.

Mike knew that in the grand scheme, things had just begun and that wildlife would be heading for the high country just as they were. If anyone expected to live off the land when the balloon went up, they would be in for a hungry surprise. Animals were not as stupid as some people might think; they would also be in survival mode once humans started coming for them. This one had simply stumbled into its death.

Chad and Linda did the cooking, which was a benefit to all since they were both professional chefs. His specialty was meats; hers was pastries. She had graduated from a school just outside of Paris about ten years back and he attended and graduated from a school in Naples Italy around the same time. The cave filled with mouth-watering smells, despite their limited resources. Mike was hungry and so were the rest of them.

In selecting group members, however, simply being a chef wouldn’t have been enough, so it was helpful that Chad was a national Pistol Shot Champion and Linda was an archery shooter of some note. She had competed in the Olympics and did well, and even though she didn’t win any medals, she was selected to be a judge at another Olympic Games a few years later.

The two of them first met at a chili cook off and their quick wit, great looks, and personalities had them dating for a couple of years. When asked what brought them together, Linda always attributed it to their love of and expertise in cooking. Chad always told his close friends it was her smile and perfect legs that did it for him.

They were amazing to watch. When someone knows what they’re doing, they make it look effortless and this time was no different; everyone was eating in short order. Mike suggested the guards stay put until a relief could take their place. These were unpredictable times so they couldn’t let their guard down for one minute.

Chad had actually brought a small cooler loaded with meats and Linda had other foodstuffs in the one she was carrying, along with several normal accoutrements. Chad joked that the apparent end of the world didn’t mean he had to act uncivilized by wasting the filet mignon he had bought earlier that day. He had thrown a few loaded clips of ammo on the top of it, along with his personal set of knives. Linda’s bow, a sixty-pound compound, was always at the ready and Mike was fairly certain she could easily take out a sentry from three hundred feet in near silence.

One of the decisions they had made years ago, when these people met and formed the initial members, was that everyone would have at least two side arms… either 9mm or .45 ACP in order to reduce confusion. Their battle rifles would be the standard .308/7.62 NATO, with a backup of something in a .223 caliber. The decision was based on the billions of rounds available in those calibers worldwide. Other weapons in their stockpile consisted of 12 gauge shotguns. The pistols and rifles they used for practice were .22 rimfire because the ammo was cheaper to shoot than standard center-fire cartridges and easily transported in bricks of 500.

The group agreed that each person would purchase and bring to the retreat 10,000 rounds of each caliber to ensure there was adequate ammo to go around. Some of them opted to bring additional weapons, and that wasn’t discouraged, but by adopting a standard, they were able to buy the reloading components in large lots, which saved them money.

They had several hunting rifles amply fitted with scopes for more accurate shooting. Each rifle had the see-through-type scope mounts installed on them, which meant the shooter had the use of iron sights in addition to the scope. Flip over scope mounts were discouraged because it was hard to keep a scope properly sighted-in every time there was a need to flip the scope over to one side.

The scope made for more accurate shots each and every time. Waste not, want not, or so it went. There were also a couple of .458 Winchesters, which were referred to as the “car stoppers.” One shot in the motor with one of those cannons and a vehicle was not going anywhere ever again.