Chapter 4

Mike was not happy with the fact that it was so easy for the looters to gain access to the non-working farmhouse. When he debriefed Tom about the circumstances of the raid on his home, the young man mentioned that the looters seemed to know a lot about them like the fact his father wouldn't have a gun in the house. He told Tom that from his hiding place he didn't recognize any of them but they could have been from the next town over which was only about six miles away. He told Mike that his father was a preacher in one of the local churches and that his sister was real popular because she was a cheerleader on the county high school team that serviced several small towns in this rural part of the county. He figured the "bad guys" were acquainted with either his father or his sister, since his mom never left the house for anything.

He also told Mike about the buried "root" cellar about 100 feet from the barn. Apparently, there was a supply of canned goods and sacks of rice in case of an emergency like a storm or fire. The cellar also had several lanterns and some five gallon cans of kerosene and water. There was also a small generator but he had never seen it used and didn't know if it worked.

He set Wesley to teaching his sister Wendy as well as Tom and Heather how to tear down the rifles and to clean the little pistols if they might be needed. The shotgun stayed with Mike and he checked the perimeter around the cave area to see if anyone was scouting them out.

Ginnie was looking sort of distant and bewildered at the sudden chance in lifestyle. She never was one to set much store by basic needs living and was more of a "let's get someone to do that for us" person. Even now she could not figure out how to handle the stacked piles of dirty clothes without her washer and dryer. Mike remembered seeing a couple of old washboards in the barn and a metal tub that could serve as a holding pan. Since there were no maids around, he figured they could all take turns handling that chore.

Heather was wearing her abbreviated short shorts and Mike knew it was driving poor Wesley to distraction. Right now, though, they had more important things on their minds and it was important to isolate their hideout from the remainder of the survivors. Sharing was all well and good but not at the expense of their own lives.

They all took a "Siesta" in the middle of the day and then Mike headed out with both Wesley and Tom back to the farmhouse and the hidden root cellar. He gathered up the stuff they wanted to take back with them right next to the stream and then they all moved down the dirt road to the old bridge that connected both the farmhouse and the trail leading off to the cave to the gravel road heading back to the paved road. There was no sound of life and no evidence of any activity in either direction.

Mike was not certain if that was a good sign or a bad sign. In any event, it gave them the opportunity to figure out how to cut themselves off from outside contact. A quick look at the support system for the bridge confirmed the fact that it was sturdy but easily undermined and brought down into the deep ravine almost 20 feet below. After it came crashing down in a roar and cloud of dust, it looked to the casual observer that it had fallen from natural causes and old age. It looked to Mike that the only way intruders could move further inland toward the hideout would be by foot. Even an Off Track Vehicle would have a hard time trying to negotiate the steep rocky slopes of the ravine.

Of course, it would be possible to rebuild the bridge but that would take a lot of time and manpower and Mike didn't think any group would be so rich in resources to make that kind of effort.

They all made it back to the stream quickly and headed back to the cave.

The small dog from the farmhouse followed them but Mike figured that was not a problem since he didn't seem inclined to be a noisy dog at all. He was casting about in front of them and to the sides like a good hunting dog so Mike had some hopes for his help in finding small game for the eating table.

At the fork of the stream, Mike stopped for a break and asked Tom,

"Do you see that other fork over there by the rock?"

Tom poured a canteen of water over his head.

"Yes sir that is the way to the Henderson's place. It is about two miles off to the left and through that stand of timber. The Henderson's are good people. There is the old lady who has to be at least 80 years old. Then there is Karl and Karl, Jr. They both went to my dad's church and they helped us to fix the leaks in our roof when we moved in. They had a hired hand called Carlos with a teenaged daughter who did all the cooking and cleaning. They all kind of kept to themselves and that was all right with us."

Mike wondered at the boy's lack of curiosity. He wondered if he was still in some kind of shock from the loss of his entire family.

They were all carrying a lot of stuff and the going was slow once they got to the uphill part of the return trip. Ginnie made a face at the sight of the washboards and seemed less than interested in the large sack of rice which not normally a part of her diet. She thought it to be beneath her dignity to be eating such a common type of grain like some foreigner. Mike knew the day would come when any type of food was good food as long as they had enough to keep from feeling hungry.

After dinner that night, Wesley walked outside to where Mike was standing told him,

"Heather and I want to sleep together over by the back wall by ourselves. I think we are both old enough to make our own minds up on this."

Mike liked the way his son made it a statement and not a question. He was not asking permission and that probably was a good thing. He didn't say a word; he just nodded his head in agreement and told his son,

"I know things have changed a lot, but you need to keep your mind on business. Do you read me, young man?"

Wesley looked off into the distance and they both listened to the sounds of the forest coming alive with the creatures of the night. The symphony of night stirrings was reassuring to Mike because he knew the time to be worried was when the sounds were silent. The small dog with no desire to bark was flat on its belly and even though his eyes were open, it was most likely that he was sound asleep.

The fact that they had cut themselves off from the road with the demolishing of the bridge was not much comfort to Mike. He knew that in similar circumstances, if he were a marauding bandit looking for spoils and females, it would be a sure sign that someone or some group was making it difficult to get to them. It would be a chore, but desperate people make for dangerous enemies. He started thinking about the benefit of creating some little surprises along the trails heading to the cave that might slow down any attackers or even discourage them from continuing into the back country.