numerous fuel checks, I would also inquire as to my wingman’s fuel. We were about on par with him being a touch lower.
I called Denver Center as we began our descent. We were handed over to Fort Worth Approach and received vectors and clearance for the approach. I was still constantly looking at the fuel gauge and calculations. We had gained a measure of fuel savings on the descent and, after switching to approach, they gave us short vectors to the airfield. The cloud ceiling was considerably higher here and when we broke out, approach asked us if we had the airfield in sight. I answered in the affirmative and we were given instructions to circle to land runway 17 which basically gives us the freedom to maneuver to and align ourselves with the runway.
We touched down in formation and taxied to base ops. My fuel gauge read zero; I mean absolute zero while taxiing. I was pretty hot and furious and stormed over to base ops to give Mr. Know It All a pretty big piece of my mind after shutting down. As I walked in, the DO walked in behind me. I think he felt the mood and swept his arms wide and said, “My friends, at least we all made it.” That put a pretty good perspective check on me and settled my mood considerably. He was pretty good with stuff like that and it made an impression on me. Always keep things in perspective.
Pulling my mind back to the present, I make a U-turn and retrace our route. We ride back mostly lost in our own thoughts after Robert shares our plans for tomorrow. Michelle seems to take it in stride only mentioning she doesn’t have a sleeping bag with her. “We have some extras,” I tell her. Those being only words I say as we drive through town and back down the highway towards home still thinking about the watch, maybe later.
On the drive back, I am lost in my thoughts about various aspects of the planned flight out; gathering some supplies on the way back and putting another to-do list together. I think about asking Michelle where she thinks her parents might be or what happened to them. I also want to ask Robert what happened that he, Nic, and Bri ended up in the basement but the time doesn’t feel right. I feel they all have to sort things out in their own minds before reliving those experiences.
“We should probably gather up some supplies for tomorrow,” I say as we turn off the highway by the gas station with the white F-150 still in the lot.
I pull into the gas station and park in the same location as before with the Jeep running. I pull out the duct tape sliding the tube onto my left arm like a bracelet.
“That’s just like the .45 I used to have,” I say nodding toward the gun at Robert’s side. We used to go off into the woods periodically to target practice so he knows how to shoot, “Remember, it has a lot of kick so make sure you refocus the sights on your target before squeezing off the next round. It may be a semi-automatic but that doesn’t mean rapid fire.” He merely looks at the gun and nods.
“Let’s take a walk around,” I say grabbing my gun and walk towards the store. Both of them do the same and follow.
The store itself is your standard stop-and-rob gas station store built with cement blocks. The cream-colored building has double entry glass doors with a door-sized window to either side. It also has two additional large glass pane windows, one on the facing corner to the left of the doors and another just around the left corner that looks into the checker stand. Both Robert and I know the interior well from the many, many times we have stopped there for soda or the occasional Subway pizzas or sandwiches.
Just inside the front doors, the double register check stand sits to the left with a counter to the right holding automated coffee and other drink machines. This then opens up into the main store. Refrigeration sections line the walls to the rear and right of the store with the Subway station situated against the front right. The middle of the store is comprised of several food and sundry shelves with the aisles angled toward the front door. To the right, between the Subway station and the refrigeration unit to the right, I remember a door leading to the outside with the kitchen part of Subway just before this exit door. A bathroom is located on the left between the check stand and rear refrigerated section with a hallway extending to the rear of the building. I assume there is an entry into the refrigeration unit, a stock area and such, and a rear door.
Outside, to the rear of the building, I see the beginnings of a chain link fence with wood slats in the links common to dumpster areas. We head in that direction checking the surrounding area out. The warm summer breeze gently stirs against my red Jeep t-shirt and jeans; my shadow extending slightly to my left across the pavement. I see two other shadows behind mine as Robert and Michelle tail behind. We round the corner to the rear of the store remaining alert to anything that might be there. A green dumpster shows through the reddish brown slats in the fence verifying my previous assumption. I want to check out every place to make sure. Minimizing surprises is a good philosophy to live by.
The gate has a lock but is hanging open. The gate itself swings outward and to the left. I see through the slats but can’t see everything inside clearly. I gather Robert and Michelle around me.
“Robert, you take the gate from the right, remove the lock, lift the latch, and swing the gate open stepping back to the right as you open it. This will minimize the possibility that the gate will swing open into you. At no time are you to step in front of the opening unless I tell you. I’ll cover the gate from the front a few feet back. Once the gate is open, you step a few feet back my direction and to the left.”
“Michelle,” I say, “You cover the area around us.”
They nod and Robert moves in a wide circle approaching the gate from the right. I set up in a kneeling stance a few feet in front of the gate. My guess is nothing will present itself due to the lock being on the gate, but you never know. Once at the gate, Robert grasps the lock and looks back at me. I glance back at Michelle. She has her back to me and is looking around the area with her pistol out. I must admit I am quite impressed with Robert’s exceptional choice for a girlfriend.
I give Robert a nod. He removes the lock and drops it to the ground as he lifts the latch. Swinging, the gate open to his left, with the metallic rattling sound common to all chain link fences, he steps back away from the gate bringing his own gun up. I’m greeted by the sight of a dumpster hidden in the shadow of the store. Nothing moves except for the gate slowly swinging closed apparently not being quite level. I approach the gate noticing the left lift door on the dumpster is open to the sky with the right one closed. A couple of smaller cardboard boxes lie open on the ground at the foot of the dumpster.
“Cover me,” I say at the entrance. He moves up behind as I edge toward the open end of the dumpster. A quick move up to my toes bringing my gun to bear toward the dumpster opening reveals nothing immediately apparent other than it being half full of miscellaneous paper wrappings, cans, boxes, and the standard things one would expect in a garbage bin. I feel kind of foolish for tactically assaulting a dumpster. However, if that dumpster were to spring up as some transformer and attack us, we would have had it covered. More so, I wanted to use this to teach tactical operations and this was a safe way to do it.
Proceeding out of the enclosure, I shut the gate behind me. “Michelle,” I call out and she quickly joins us.
We continue around the enclosure along the back of the store. In the middle of the rear wall is a gray, steel door that opens outward. Against the other rear corner is an enclosure similar to the one we just exited. The difference is a small aluminum tube jutting out from the top. I was hoping to see something like this. I guess I never paid very close attention to the surroundings before as I don’t remember seeing this. But then again, I don’t remember not seeing it either. I rather expected something like it though. Out here in the country, there are frequent power failures during storms and winter months with some failures lasting several days. Stores would keep small generators handy in order to keep the refrigeration units going in the event of such failures. This one would likely be attached to those and the emergency lighting. It might even be connected to the gas pumps. Something to think about in the future.
“Same as before?” Robert asks.
I nod and tell Michelle she has the door and the surrounding area. She stations herself in front of the door about twenty feet away and the assault on the generator begins. We go through the same motions and find it is in fact a generator and is clear. Emergency generators are usually set to automatically engage, triggered by the loss of normal electrical power. Some have a manual starter switch for maintenance check purposes. I press the green ‘on’ switch. Nothing happens. The fuel tank with the green ‘diesel only’ placard sits on the front and to the bottom and, as I tap the tank lightly working my way down. A hollow sound follows all of the way down to the bottom. I test the fuel level with a small, square pole sitting to the side of the generator to find the stick reveals only a dark, wet line about a quarter of an inch deep. Empty. I seriously doubt there is enough residual diesel fuel in the hose lines at the pump to power it up. If we want to ever use this generator and the gas pumps, we’ll have to drain diesel fuel from some vehicle at a later point. There’s too much to be done today with the light remaining for us to
