“The only route?”
“Except by air, of course.”
“So this place, the cabin, it’s in the corridor? It’s protected?”
The truck slowed as the Blazer in front came to a complete stop, and then edged forward onto a narrow driveway almost entirely concealed by heavy vegetation. The gravel road became an unmaintained rutted trail leaving the forest road behind. At first the driveway appeared invisible. The soldiers who stayed here covered it with large swaths of pine needles and dry leaves then left a zigzagging stretch of brush piles to conceal the entrance. The truck bounced and the shocks squeaked in protest. Katy let out a giggle as she was rocked up and down on Jacob’s lap.
“Yes,” Rogers said, continuing, “this is still in the defense corridor, but I don’t know the state of it after the attacks. We’re secluded enough; in fact, we are about as far away from things as we can get. That should buy us some time.”
She turned and looked to Jacob with concern, then back to Rogers. “How much time?”
Rogers maneuvered the truck into the yard of the cabin and killed the engine. He let out a loud frustrated sigh. “I don’t know; that depends on what else those pumpkins brought us.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
“Well, it’s not much to look at,” Laura said, holding a bag with Katy next to her. Jacob stood beside them, his rifle slung over his shoulder, and Laura’s rifle in his free hand. James moved up with Duke, the dog running to Katy and pressing against her, begging for more attention. At the top of the grassy hill they were standing on stood the one-room cabin named O.P. Thunder. A tall barn was just behind it.
James pointed at a small trail that ran to the barn then curved off behind it. “What you see is only the main house. Used to be some sort of vacation place up here. This was a reception place, lobby, or something. There are several smaller cabins off that trail. Each is connected to the main house by a sound-powered telephone. Take it far enough, you’ll find a lake and hunting lodge.
“The lodge is surrounded by open prairie; that’s where they keep a couple helicopters and a drunk-ass—” James paused, looked down at Katy, and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, our pilot likes to stay up there. Keep going all the way to the top of the hill, there’s a radio tower, and on the far side is a small town. Same one we saw on our way here.”
Laura followed his hand then looked back at the larger cabin. “Where are we staying?”
Jacob’s head came up and he raised a hand toward the main building. “Best if we all stay up here for now.”
As a group, they proceeded up to the main house, Jacob observing the grounds while the rest gathered. The last time he was here, it was dark and gloomy from a downpour. The constant falling of the rain and the pending mission had given him tunnel vision; he hardly recognized the place in the bright sunlight. They stepped onto the covered front porch and entered the cabin.
The space smelled of hickory and wood smoke even though the fireplace was cold. Cast iron pots and kettles were neatly stacked on a shelf near the mantle. While the others selected the far wall, Rogers pointed to a corner of the cabin where the only bed was located, and told Laura she could occupy that space with Katy. Looking at Jacob, she started to protest. Rogers smiled and said they wouldn’t be getting much sleep anyhow, so it wasn’t worth the discussion. After they all agreed, he showed them where they could keep their weapons and how to access the pantry and fresh water stores.
Jesse stumbled through the open room and sat heavily in a wooden rocking chair, still out of it, while Rogers led Jacob and James outside. They went to work unloading the gear from the trucks and storing it in the barn. The place was larger than Jacob remembered. Having only been inside the front door of the hay barn on his previous visit, he could now see that behind a large set of wooden doors it went back a depth of at least sixty feet, and had high shelving on both sides. The shelves were stocked with cases of MREs and boxes with brand names he recognized from grocery stores. The back wall was completely filled with cases of water.
“The people on base were being rationed. Why is there so much here?” Jacob asked, carrying the last box of goods from the truck. He moved to a shelf and dropped the box on the straw-covered floor.
“This is just the Quartermaster's stash,” Rogers said. “It’s for units going down range. You didn’t complain when we loaded your pack full of it last time.”
“Where did it all come from?”
“We brought most of it with us when we withdrew from the States. The rest, we stocked up on during supply runs. There’s more too; we have a weapons and ordnance cache in a cave at the top of the hill by a radio tower.”
Jacob passed the long rows of shelves then turned, looking at the full rucksacks lined up against a wall—obviously loaded for missions down range. “Why aren’t there more people here?” he asked.
Rogers stopped and stared at the same row of packs. “Been asking myself the same question. They sent two platoons west after the dioxin. Maybe the rest were sent to defend the camp. Or the town over the ridge. Usually aren’t more than a few teams here at a time, but I was still expecting to see a friendly face or two.”
James crossed through the double doors and moved past them
