They made sure each trap still had fruit and left to see if they’d caught a goat. They were halfway back to the barn when Tom heard the bleating of a captured goat. “That sounds like it’s saying whyyyyy, why, whyyy.”
Jerry said, “That’s because we caught a kid. They often make that sound.”
Tom said, “Let’s go get the critter.”
“No! The mother is around somewhere, and she’ll come to the sound of the kid. Hey! Look! We’ve attracted several goats. Get your ropes ready. Be careful not to choke them. The does are easier to handle, so you take them while I hold that buck. Spread some grain out in front of you, and they’ll let you tie them up. Ignore the two kids. They’ll come to their moms.”
In a matter of minutes, they had the adult goats roped and in the cage with the kids.
Jerry said, “We only need another buck for insurance and a couple of females. Bucks can service ten to twenty does. These aren’t rabbits. The does need to be about a year old before they’re bred. They can get pregnant at about four to six months old.”
A couple of hours later, they had two pairs of New Zealands and a mixed pair of Californian and New Zealand rabbits. Jerry loaded six does and two bucks in the cage and kept three kids in the cab. Tom didn’t like the animals upfront because they were like puppies exploring everything. The tiny goats were under his legs, and one even tried to sit on his head. “Jerry! Please tie them down so you can watch the road.”
Tom looked over at Jerry and saw he’d placed the kids in burlap bags with only their heads sticking out. The sounds of ‘whyyyyy, whyyyy, why’ got on his nerves, but at least they weren’t romping around the inside of the truck, crapping all over the place. Tom thought, Maybe I’d better revisit that dumb idea about raising goats in the bunker. Whewwwww, that crap stinks.
Tom knew he didn’t have time before sunrise to hide the truck and walk to the hardware store, so he stopped by a utility pole on a side road. “Jerry, I’m going to cut one of the phone lines and take the wire back to Jack. We can do that several times, and I think we’ll have enough wire.”
Jerry said, “Won’t work.”
“Huh?”
“Fiber-optic lines have been in widespread use since 2030. Cut the electric lines. Wire is wire.”
They cut over a mile’s worth of electric lines and got back on the road. Tom veered up toward the hills away from Ashland when he saw a glint of light behind him about a quarter-mile. He made the turn onto Dead Indian Road and tromped down on the gas pedal. The engine roared, and Jerry yelled. “What the heck?”
“Someone is following us a ways back. I caught a reflection of the moon in their windshield. He can’t see us right now. I’m putting as much distance between us as possible before he makes the turn. I know where we can turn off the highway and hide,” Tom said.
“You don’t think they’ll shoot at us, do you?”
Tom laughed. “It kinda depends on what they want to do with us. If they want the truck, they won’t shoot. They’ll follow us and steal the truck before shooting … What the hell? Hold on!”
Tom’s quick reflexes made the difference between life and death when a car pulled across the road. He was only a half-mile up the road when he veered off to the left, ran through the fence, passed the front of the vehicle, and steered back on the road, tearing down another section of fence. The wire ripped down the pickup side and caught on the back bumper, yanking posts from the ground before breaking. Over a hundred feet of fence and posts were tagging along for the ride.
Tom kept his foot heavy on the pedal until he had to slow for a series of sharp curves. He felt the truck shudder, and suddenly the sparks from the wire scrapping on the road stopped. “I hope those posts slow them down.”
What Tom didn’t know was the truck chasing them had slammed into the car that had tried to block them from escaping. Neither vehicle was in any condition to chase them up the mountain road.
Tom used the same tricks to avoid capture they’d used when Sam and he’d escaped the thugs before. He parked on the side of the back road where Sam and he’d parked, hiding from the ones chasing them. Tom looked at the goats and listened to the continuous whyyyy, whyyy, why from the kids and thought, Sam was much better company and sure smelled better.
As before, the ride home took several hours longer than planned, due to hiding for a couple of hours. Tom helped unload the critters and then asked Rick to gather Granny and the girls. Tom took a quick bath to remove some of the goat smell and went to the library, where he found the others waiting. Tom looked around the room and then said, “We were followed out of Ashland and then ambushed just after turning on Dead Indian Road. Someone in our group contacted Carlos or the gang and gave them our route home.”
Rick thought for a minute. “Only us plus James, Jack, and Bill knew where we were going and the route home.”
Tom replayed the meeting in the barn and wasn’t happy with what he remembered. He’d now narrowed the list of suspects down to two of his trusted crew. Now, he only had to spring
