Tom frowned. “Why Granny B?”
Rick smiled. “Because she knows where every survival manual, Army Field Manual, and booby trap book is located in the library back at the ranch. You’ll need to be able to shape metal, drill holes, and fasten a gun or bomb rack to the drone. Jerry can handle that part.”
The three watched the video screen as Rick followed the road down to Ashland. Rick flew the drone at a thousand feet to avoid being noticed. They saw the first moving vehicle just northeast of the airport. A large flatbed truck loaded with men traveled south down to Highway 66.
“Rick, follow that truck as long as you can. We need to watch to see if anyone notices the drone.”
Rick replied, “No one can see us at a thousand feet. I can go up another five-hundred feet if it makes you feel good.”
Tom said, “Do it.”
The drone quickly attained a higher altitude. As expected, the view was less sharp until Rick zoomed the camera in tighter. The men and a couple of women could plainly be seen in the back of the truck. The truck crossed Highway 5 and turned left on Tolman Creek Road. A quick right took it to a huge you-store-it storage lot.
Tom could see only a few of the men were armed, and they shoved the men into a storage locker and then moved the women into a separate locker. This piqued Tom’s interest. “I have a few questions for Colt. What we just saw doesn’t fit his story.”
Kate jabbed Tom in the ribs. “Hey, couldn’t we go scavenge hunting or scouting and use the drone to perform an aerial overwatch like the big drones did during the wars.?”
Tom kissed her on the cheek. “That and a hundred other things to keep us safe. I can also see us performing routine surveillance of our area to watch for other survivors and thugs.”
Rick chuckled. “I still want to add bomb racks and a gun.”
Tom laughed. “Just hold your horses. I’ll free Jerry up to make the mounts if you loan him the best drone for the job. Hey! How many drones do we have?”
“We have six large commercial ones. I also found three smaller ones that are commercial but can’t carry much more than a camera, and can’t stay in the air longer than an hour,” Rick reported.
Tom said, “It’ll be dark soon. Bring the drone back, and let’s get ready to raise the antenna.”
Rick and Tom fetched the balloon, antenna reel, and helium tank. Jackie fed the antenna’s coaxial cable from the cave entrance to the anchor point for the antenna. Kate manned the drone’s controls. “Hey! Listen! Here it comes!”
Tom looked up and didn’t hear anything at first, but then heard a faint buzzing noise. He didn’t see the drone until Kate hovered it about a hundred feet above him. Tom exclaimed, “That sucker is very silent! No one would ever hear it at normal surveillance height.”
Kate flipped the switch to auto-land, and the large drone dropped slowly to the rock it had taken off from earlier. Tom watched in amazement. “How the hell does it do that?”
Kate said, “That drone has a more sophisticated computer guidance system than any of the Apollo moon landing craft.”
“So do most kid’s toys, these days.” Tom reflected. “Sorry, most kids' toys used to have more computing power. The EMP blast fried our age of computers.”
Rick filled the balloon with helium, and then they slowly fed the line to allow the balloon the freedom to rise. There was only a hundred feet of cable, which was more than enough for the radio to reach west of the mountains behind them. The breeze was gentle, so the balloon stayed almost directly above them. At the last minute, Kate said, “I know how we can see if the balloon is visible to others.
Tom said, “How can you tell what they can see?”
“I’ll send the drone back up and turn the camera back toward it.”
Tom gave his wife a gentle pat on the back. “That’s why you’re our drone guru.”
Tom went in to help Granny B while the others stayed outside to find out about how visible the balloon was.
Tom walked into the cave’s entrance and could barely hear a voice. He stepped closer to the spot where they’d placed the radio. He listened. “This is Granny B from Portland, and I’m going to be broadcasting a short class called TIPS on Survival during this apocalypse. I’ll give more information during the next broadcast. Who’s on the radio now? I’ll just listen.”
“Pistol Pete here. Great idea!”
“Frisco Joe here. I’ll listen in but don’t make the broadcast too long. They can trace you.”
Another voice said, “Ignore him. He’s paranoid. We all could use the info. Talk as long as you need.”
Granny B asked, “Was that the Ashland Asshole?”
“Yes!”
“You nailed his ass.”
“Don’t listen to those paranoid conspiracy buffs. I’m just a poor soul trying to survive just like the rest of you.”
“This is Joe from the American Survivors group. Don’t listen to Ashland Asshole. They can trace you. Love to hear your tips. Bye.”
Granny B said, “I’ll broadcast one tip a day around 1900 when opsec allows. Keep your powder dry.”
Tom patiently listened in and, when Granny B signed off, he said, “I think that went well. Did you notice the number of clicks where people got on and off the broadcast?”
Granny B frowned. “I’m not sure that was people signing in or out. I did hear the clicks. Maybe I’ll just ask next time.”
Tom stayed a while talking with his grandmother when he heard someone calling his name from the mouth of the cave. He ran to the opening,
