Granny B and Brenda scowled as they watched Tom and Sam getting ready to leave.
The truck bounced along at twenty-two miles an hour on a dozen back roads between Emigrant Lake and Ashland. Tom knew there were houses on the highway and more up in the trees, but they only saw one lantern in a window, and one flashlight come on as they passed in front of a home on one of the roads. They were north of the Ashland Airport on Dead Indian Road, just about to turn onto Majestic Lane when Sam saw the lights behind them. “Tom, someone’s following us about a quarter mile back.”
Tom looked in the mirror and confirmed the bad news. “We need to hide now. Look for something to hide behind.”
Betty yelled, “Those buildings on the right! Turn into that drive!” Betty pointed between two large metal buildings.
Tom steered onto the drive, sped between the buildings, turned back to the right, and stopped the truck behind a large dumpster. “Get out and prepare to fight!”
Bill and Betty hid behind an overseas shipping container, and Sam and Tom sought cover behind one of the huge dumpsters. A powerful searchlight swept the area. The pickup drove around the corner, and the light shined across the entire area. The occupants must have been satisfied and backed the truck up to go on down Dead Indian Road. Tom used the night vision scope to make sure they hadn’t dropped off any men. He scanned the area twice and didn’t see anything.
Sam hugged Tom and laid her head on Tom’s shoulder. “I was so scared. When will we get back to normal?”
Tom placed an arm around her. “If it helps any, I was also scared. My teeth were chattering. Fear is a good thing. It helps us stay alive by making us take the time to think while we hide from what scared us. You’ll grow stronger once we give you proper training, and you gain experience.”
“What about the other question?”
Tom took his arm away when he heard Bill and Betty approach. “I wish I knew the answer to that one. I’ve been taught for twenty years that if the grid is fried by an EMP blast, it could take a lifetime for the country to recover. The large transformers that reduce the voltage down and send it to the ones that transmit electricity to our homes are hard to replace. Most electric companies only have one in stock. They have plenty of smaller ones.
To make matters worse, the large transformers are only manufactured in China and South Korea. I hope the military has secured a large section of the USA and has kept the area safe from the chaos we’re seeing here. That would greatly help get the country moving toward being somewhat normal.”
Bill walked up. “Looks like they left. Can we head out now?”
“Yes, I checked the area out with the scope, and it’s clear. Load up!”
Tom drove along the east side of Highway 5 on a dozen or more paved and dirt roads to work their way to Talent. He stopped on West Valley View Road and then turned around before killing the engine. “You be careful getting to your homes. Daylight is just a few hours from now, so we need to run. Good luck.”
They shook hands, and Betty hugged them both before they walked off into the night. Tom fired up the old truck and drove away faster than they had driven on the way to Talent. Sam had the scope scanning the road ahead while she chatted away. Tom thought she talked too much, but her voice seemed to soothe his nerves. “We’d better find some gas. The truck says half full, but we’ve driven a lot lately. These old V8s don’t get the best gas mileage. Oh, remind me not to shake hands again.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain what happens when you run out of TP later.”
“Oh. ….Crap.”
“Yep.”
“Disgusting!”
Tom saw some cars parked behind a business and pulled up beside them. “I’ll siphon some gas and let you fill the truck’s tank. It should only take about ten gallons. I’ll only put about three gallons in each of our gas cans, so you can lift them.”
He slid the tube down the car’s filler neck and sucked on the tube to get the gas to start flowing. Tom wasn’t quick enough moving the tube to the can but only got a tiny taste of the gas. He spit and sputtered, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. Sam gave him a water bottle, and he was able to rinse his mouth, but the taste of gasoline was still strong. “Thanks for the water.”
“Glad to help you. That must taste terrible.”
“It does, but it beats walking.”
It only took fifteen minutes to top the tank and fill the two five-gallon cans. They were quickly on their way again. They didn’t see any lights or fires until passing close to a home north of the Ashland airport. They could see a woman in the window looking out at the road. Tom was sure they were heard if not seen. He roared around the turn onto Dead Indian Road when he saw a light behind them in the distance. He sped up and yelled. “We’ve got company behind us. I’m going on up and not turning back toward Emigrant Lake. We don’t want these yahoos to follow us back to our camp. Hang on!”
The vehicle behind them was a mile back, and from time to time, Tom could see the searchlight shining from side to side looking for something. “It must be the same people who tried to find us earlier. We’re only staying ahead of them because they slow down to search for something. Maybe
