“Not for my nose. We aren’t going to be able to find any new filters, so I’m going to have to make some. Kleenex tissues will work.”
“Alright,” Clay said. “I’ll check the commissary and the PX. If I can’t find any there I’ll run in to town.”
“Better try Enterprise or Dothan. I know there aren’t any in Ozark,” John said. “We looked yesterday.”
Clay started toward his Jeep SUV.
“Deon, go with him,” Jake said. “After what Karin and I ran into on the way out here today, there’s no telling who or what might be waiting for you.”
“All right,” Deon said. He walked over to the wall where their weapons were, picked up two M-16s, then put them both back down. Instead, he picked up an M-240, a machine gun.
“You plan on starting a war?” Julie asked.
“No,” Deon said. “I don’t plan to start one, but if I happen to get into one, I damn sure plan on winning it.”
“I like the way that man thinks,” Clay said.
Although they passed several abandoned vehicles on the way in to Dothan, and even more once they reached the city, they did not run into any trouble. Seeing a Winn-Dixie on Westgate Parkway, Clay pulled into the parking lot, weaving around abandoned cars and trucks. He pulled all the way up onto the wide sidewalk in front of the store.
“Let’s see what we can find in here,” Clay suggested.
The inside of the store was a jumbled mess—overturned shelves and counters, broken glass, empty boxes, shredded paper, and signs that mocked with their cheery false promises.
Winn
Dixie Brings You the
“We aren’t goin’ to find anything in here,” Deon said.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Clay admitted. “But we may as well give it a try. If there is anything, it will more than likely be over here,” he said, pointing toward a sign that said PAPER PRODUCTS.
The two men looked through the residue under the sign. Suddenly Deon raised up and pointed. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.
Clay looked in the direction Deon was pointing. There, on the floor, was a huge pile of currency in denominations from ones to one-hundred-dollar bills.
“How much do you think is there?” Deon asked.
“I don’t know. A couple hundred thousand dollars, probably.”
“It’s just lying here. You know there’ve been hundreds of people that have picked through this store since everything collapsed, but nobody took any of the money.”
“You want to take some of it?” Clay asked.
“No. What good is it?”
“There you go, that’s why nobody has taken any of it,” Clay said. “We better try someplace else. We aren’t going to find anything here.”
The next place they stopped was a Bruno’s store, and there they found several boxes of a house-brand tissue that were water damaged.
“What do you think?” Deon asked.
“I think this will have to do.”
John had only asked for six boxes, but they found ten boxes that looked to be in pretty good shape, figuring that the extra boxes might make up for any that were too damaged to be of use.
On the way back to Fort Rucker, they saw a pickup truck parked across the road in a blocking position. There were four armed men, and three of them were pointing their weapons at them, while the fourth held up his hand in a signal for them to stop.
“Uh-oh,” Clay said.
“Stop here,” Deon said.
“What for? We’re goin’ to have to face them so we may as well see what they want.”
“You know damn well what they want,” Deon said. “They either want this vehicle or the fuel. Stop here; let me get up on top.”
Deon reached in the back and picked up the machine gun; then he got out of the jeep and climbed up on top. He loaded the weapon, chambered a round, lay down on top of the car facing forward, braced his feet on the top railing, then hit his hand on the roof.
“Let’s go!” he called.
Seeing that the Jeep wasn’t going to stop, the three men with weapons—two rifles and a pistol—began firing.
Deon opened fire with the machine gun and the two men with rifles went down. The one with the pistol threw his weapon on the ground and put his hands up.
“Drive on through!” Deon called down to Clay.
Clay accelerated, then left the road to go around the block when he got there.
“You boys have a nice day now, you hear?” Deon shouted as they drove by.
The two who were still on their feet glared back, but said nothing.
“Oh, yeah, this will work just fine,” John said when he saw the tissues they had brought back. “I’ll have these filters better than new. Marcus, how are you coming on the hydro mechanical unit?”
“I’ve about got the HMU up and running. I’ve got the variable geometry actuator, the compressor inlet sensor, and the high-pressure fuel pump installed,” he said.
“Good, good, we’re cookin’ with gas now.”
“Cooking with gas? I thought this helicopter used jet fuel,” Julie said.
“It does. When we say cooking with gas we mean . . .”
Julie started laughing.
“I think Julie is pulling a couple of legs,” Karin said.
For the next several minutes John and Marcus worked on the helicopter engine while the others watched and handed them tools when asked. Deon took a pair of binoculars and an M-16 with him, then went up into the tower where he would have a panoramic view of the entire airfield.
“Phoenix,” he called down a few moments after he left. “There are some people over in the far northeast corner of the field.”
“What are they doing?”
“Looks like they are trying to find a helicopter that still has some fuel.”
“Keep an eye on them, but don’t do anything unless they start something.”
“Roger.”
That night they scheduled a guard detail. John was first on, and he went up into the tower to keep watch while the others spread out their sleeping bags. Willie cranked up one of the radios and after some searching, found a broadcast. The voice they heard was that of Ohmshidi.
“Damn, you mean that son of a bitch is still around?” Clay asked.
