Chapter 18

“How far,” a tired female said. “I don’t think I can go very far without eating something.”

“Well there’s all kinds of trucks here. All they need is New batteries, or if you can get the old ones to working, you can ride there in style.”

“Okay,” the woman said and looked in the direction of her husband. “Can you get the batteries to work?”

“I guess I can try.”

We managed to strike a deal. I would let them work on a truck of their choice and they would leave to go hunting for food. I was just glad to be getting rid of them. I didn’t trust them, but they did seem to be telling the truth. Once they were gone with the truck, I could do my work without fear of being shot in the back.

Finding the batteries was not easy. They managed one, and hunting for more proved fruitless. So the man I came to know as Roger, started working on the old batteries that were dead. Possibly from just sitting and running down. While they were engrossed with the batteries, I climbed into the tank and began going through the handful of keys I got out of the desks. I was surprised and relieved when finally the instruments lit up. Then it was just a few minutes and a shot of ether, and the engine was running. That got Rogers attention, and he quickly hooked up some jumper cables from the tank to his batteries. For safety sake, we opened the big double doors and let some air in. We didn’t want to be asphyxiated from exhaust.

The big search light on the tank gave us a break on wearing the night vision goggles. They were life savers, but they also were heavy on the face and vision wasn’t the most detailed. So when I turned on the light, we all breathed a sigh of relief. Taking the goggles off, and looking at my two unwelcome visitors, I could really see just how thin they were. The woman, Rogers wife, Emily might have been a good looking, if not so gaunt and thin. Yes they were hungry, and I didn’t lie, I didn’t have any food.

We charged the batteries for an hour before putting them in a dump truck with a clean cab. Emily insisted on the cleanest one, and it really didn’t matter. They topped off the fuel tanks and took the map I offered them. Roger told me after we’d been working for a while that his family consisted of His Dad, Mom, and two other brothers and their wives. With six children between them. I told them when they were able, to contact us at Waller Ville. They could make a deal with whoever was in charge. I wasn’t planning on being there much longer. Soon as I got this tank there and the threat from Fort Sally was gone, I was leaving.

I was going to head for the high country and into Eastern Oregon. I had hunted there as a kid and still hoped that it was like I remembered it. That was where I wanted to live. I didn’t think there would be as many people to cause trouble as what I’d seen so far in this valley. If no one wanted to come with me, well that was okay too. I didn’t want anyone along that didn’t want to be there.

My dreams of Eastern Oregon was a long way off from where I was sitting now. I had gotten the engine running so far, and with a grease can went around trying to lube all the rollers. I suppose there were thousands of men that could whip this tank into fighting condition in twenty minutes, but I wasn’t one of them. It was taking me a lot longer just to figure out the simple operating controls for the driver. I knew one thing, a tank may look invincible, but from my experience in running some heavy equipment, everything broke down. That was why I was taking so long in going over every grease fitting and lube joint. I didn’t want to end up broke down on the road side.

Where the Tank was parked, I found several items, I had no idea what they were or if they went with the tank. So just to be safe I tossed them on the back of the tank, someone might figure out what they were. There were a few empty shell casings, laying on a pallet, and I took them too. They were spent, but Greg might find some way to reload them.

Out back, I found some 50gallon drums. Taking them over to the fuel storage tanks, I rinsed out four and placed them on the back of the tank. I read in the manual that they stored extra barrels of fuel there. The Tank it’s self was low on fuel. I figured to fill the barrels when I fueled the Tank. When I was finally done with everything I could think of, and I was ready to go, the sun had been up for a while. I felt just a little bit fuzzy kind of tired, but eager to see if I could really get this tank rolling down the road. Moving it out of the shop had been kind of touch and go. The controls were simple, but I didn’t have a soft touch with them. It took me a little while and many tries to get the tank around to the rear of the building and next to the fuel nozzles. I was able to find some attachments in the shop, to help later with refueling from the barrels. There might have been other ways of doing it, but I found a pour spout and funnels and hose. It might be messy, but at least it could be done.

Climbing down into the tank, I closed all the hatches and gripped the controls. I would have preferred to ride in the turret, but I was driving and that meant sitting down in the lowest part of the tank. I had apertures to look where I was driving the tank, but it took a lot of getting use too. The hatch above the drivers seat, could be open and I thought about driving that way, but I wanted to get accustom to using the drivers view scopes. If the trip home was going to be like I figured, there would be some pot shots at the Tank, and if I had my head sticking out the hatch, it might the target.

For safety I drove around the compound a while, just getting used to the machine, and the noise it made. The fact that I was hungry, cut a lot of things short. I needed to get back to the Bunker where I knew a good meal was waiting for me. My hunger pains were giving me a sympathetic leaning for Roger and Emily Caseman. I hadn’t been hungry, not like those two.

It was thrilling to roll out of the compound and turn the multi ton tank towards home. I was going down the road now, fearless. What fool would try to challenge a 50 ton tank? I drove for many miles, looking through the apertures, just to get the hang of it. When I opened the hatch and stuck my head out, I loved it. Even the noise of the treads was enjoyable. I set the throttle control and raised the seat. Now all I had to do was watch the road and steer the tank. I was running in gear one, it was fast enough for starters, but after awhile I shifted it up to second. That was the fast mode and there was a good deal of difference. I took a curve a little too fast, just barely staying on the road. After that, I would kick the throttle control off and slow the machine down on the sharper corners.

From that scare on the curve, I became aware that I had to do something with my turret. I saw that the gun was slowly moving to one side and then depending on the tilt of the road, it would move back the other way. So I ended up stopping in a long open section of road and swinging the turret around so I could lock the gun in a travel brace. Maybe if I had someone in the turret they would keep the gun straight. As it was, it was swinging to the low side and in danger of hanging up on signs, and other road side brush. Again, it took some getting used to, when I tried to position it just right. The turret and gun operated smooth, I just didn’t know the proper position to get it tied down. When I did finally get it right, I had probably made ten trips inside and out the turret, repositioning the barrel. My fuel gauge said over half full, but I took the time to empty one of the extra fuel drums into the main fuel tank. I’d picked a clear open position, so I could see anyone coming for a long ways. I could have been in danger from a sniper, but evidently there were none about.

Back on the road, I was again getting that feeling of strength. Me and my machine could take on anything, kind of feeling. Course I didn’t have a bullet on board for any of the guns. Matter of fact, outside of the main gun, I didn’t have a single weapon except my rifle and revolver. I didn’t care, I was driving a tank, and I was tough. The only time I was a little squeamish was crossing my detour at the river. The bridge I had scouted out, didn’t look so strong now. Now that I was approaching with my Tank.

I had the choice of fording the river downstream, where it widen out across a gravel flat, or taking the bridge. I wasn’t sure about fording the river. It looked like a solid bed of rocks and boulders, but I couldn’t be sure. If I was going to take a chance, I figure to trust the engineering of the men that built the half dam-half bridge. Bogging down in the river was not a choice.

Now I was sticking my head way out of the drivers hatch, and nervously watching the sides of the bridge. I started across in low gear and with just a little pedal pressure. I had plenty of room, but once on the bridge, things seemed to narrow up. I was constantly correcting my steering, keeping my seat in what I thought was the middle of the bridge. It helped. By the time I was across and out of danger, I was soaked with sweat. Life did suddenly get better but I was exhausted. I needed to rest, I was tired even before I started out today and now I was about at the end of my reserve strength.

I thought about the different places I could pull over and spend the day. Even in the tank, I didn’t want someone to come up on me while resting. I recalled how a bottle of gas and a lit rag stuffed in the neck, could light up a tank and everyone one inside. So I was looking for a secure spot to spend the day. That’s about the time I was passing the houses again where I talked with the woman. Impulsively I turned into the drive way and rolled up past the garage and turned in behind the house. I idled the machine down, and after five minutes turned off the engine.

No one had come out of the house, probably because of fear, and not knowing it was me. Well maybe they did know it was me and still didn’t want to come out. Rather than climb out of the Drivers hatch, I opened up the top hatch on the turret. I climbed out, closing the hatch behind me. The house looked the same. So did the others down the line. I thought I saw some movement in the upper windows of the next house, but pretended not to have seen it. I brought my attention back to the house of the woman I talked to before.

“Hello in the house. Could you spare a glass of water?” I had water, but I wanted to ask for something. I was hungry, mighty hungry, but I wasn’t going to ask for something that she had little of. I waited a few minutes and was about to call out again, when she appeared coming out the back door. In her hand she held a large glass of water.

“You’ll have to come down and get it. I’m not climbing up there.” She held out the Glass.

I climbed down off the tank and thanked her for the drink. She began looking the Tank over as I sipped the water. “I could hear you coming, probably since you crossed Copper Creek.”

“It does travel with a lot of noise.”

“Won’t take you long to get home?” it was both a question and a statement.

“Maybe another half hour or so. It does about forty miles an hour.” I could tell that there was more on her mind, but I was going to wait and let her decide when to bring it up.

“How much can you carry on it?”

“What ever can be stacked on the back. I suppose things could be tied down. There’s no room inside for luggage, just three more people. Maybe four if they sit on someone’s lap.” I remembered her asking about how many people we needed at the Bunker, and figured she had someone in mind.

“Are you a decent man?” The question caught me off guard. She was looking me in the eye.

I had to think. “ lot has happened since the day of attack. So I took a deep breath and answered her the best I could. AWell, I’ve had to do some things I’m not proud of. Things, I would never have done before ... The world changed. I take solace in the fact that because I did them, I’m alive and so are my friends. The sad thing is, I probably will have to do more. That’s the reason for the Tank. We have our enemies and they will not leave us in peace. I think that is the way of the world. We will never have the kind of world where men and women can just be ... Well whatever they want. Am I a decent man?” I returned her look. “I damn well try to be.”

“I have a daughter. She’s fifteen. I want her to be around other fifteen year olds. Girls her age. She won’t get that here.”

“There’s many her age at Waller Ville. We even have a few boys.” We were speaking in mellow voices. She was tired, maybe not the same as I was, but tired all the same.

“What do you want? What toll do you have in mind. What will it cost me for you to take us there?” Those eyes were still confronting me.

“Well, to be very honest. A bed, a bed to sleep in. Just sleep. Then come sun down, we can head out for Waller Ville, and there will be no other charge.” I was hoping to sleep soon. My clothes were heavy with dried sweat, and my feet were tired. Even if I didn’t get a bed to sleep in, I would be sleeping very soon, and probably just where I dropped.

“My Names, Helen.” she said and pointed towards the door. “Your beds through there.”

That was how I came to know Helen. Helen Pomeroy. She had a daughter, Kathy. A very pretty girl. They’d been living in the houses alone since before the final attack. The flu had taken their family and neighbors. They had a small farm out behind the trees in back. From that they had been feeding themselves. The winter snows and heavy rains had been a tough go for them. They still had chickens, and a few goats. The horses required more than they could provide, so they let them loose and hadn’t seen them since. They did have five cats, and wanted to bring at least one. I thought a Cat would help, and told them to bring at least two. I remembered what it looked like in the first house I walked in. Mice and rat crap all over the place. Cats had a place in my new world.

Helen made good use of her time while I slept. She gathered the animals she wanted to bring, putting the cats and chickens in two wire cages. Her Daughter Kathy was thrilled to be going. Life had been very boring after each days struggle to find food and keep their house warm. Going to where there were others her own age, was a dream come true. It was still daylight when I woke from my afternoon nap, I found my tank had more luggage strapped on the back.

I could see that more room was needed, and the Gun barrel locked in the travel carrier was taking up a lot of space. So with Helen riding in the turret, I gave her a crash course on how to keep the gun Turret pointed to the front. She was a little apprehensive but willing enough. Kathy would ride in the Tank Commanders seat with the hatch closed. With every extra piece strapped down on the back of the Tank, and maintaining a clear access to the Fuel tank we were ready to leave.

After topping off the main fuel tank again, we set off. There was some jabbering between Kathy and her mom on the intercom system. It was so loud inside that the intercom was the only clear way of communicating. They were viewing things through the periscopes, and calling each others attention to the passing sights. I found it entertaining and refreshing.

We quickly came upon the bridge where I last crossed and saw the sleeping sentry. Now two people jumped up and stared open mouthed at our approach. That only lasted a few moments before both took off running. I was pleased that the Tank was having the proper effect. Crossing the bridge was a delight. Helen commented happily that we were not meeting any resistance. Sightseeing was a little difficult, but the safety of traveling in a Tank, was a great trade off. I was glad that I hadn’t waited for dark to travel, because the girls were enjoying the passing scenery.

If I didn’t think there was still the danger of someone taking a pot shot at us, I would have opened the Commanders Hatch and let more air travel through the Tank. I had my drivers hatch open part way, to keep some air circulating. The vents and fans didn’t seem to be working at full function. That was something I intended for Greg to look into.

When we neared Waller Ville, I got on the radio and called in. Shelly responded immediately. I informed her that we were approaching, and to have a welcoming party as I was arriving with two new people. Waller Ville wasn’t the nice little place it once was. As we moved down the streets, conditions of the buildings worsen. On the out skirts it looked pleasant enough, but as we drove deeper into the town, the ravages of the past fires and winter storm damages really stuck out. I had gotten use to it, but now as we passed it all again, I was aware of what Helen and Kathy were seeing. I told them our works to improve things were concentrating on the rural farms. The town would have to wait. I didn’t add probably forever, but that was what I was thinking.

The security door rose quicker than ever and I learned that Bill had found and repaired the power problem. It made things easier and faster. The chickens were placed in one of the out buildings in the compound, but the cats were brought in side, and the girls just went silly over them. Greg stood looking at the Tank, while Dean and Fred unloaded the back end. The empty shell casings caught his attention. He mentioned that there might be something he could do with them.

Bill showed up toward dusk, with the wheeled APC and a load of our farm workers. The Tank was again given a good looking over. A wiry smile crossed his lips and he said that we had the big hammer now. Fort Sally had just came closer to its End. I stood back as He and Greg went over the Tank commenting on the different aspects of its use. We had a machine gun that could be mounted on the cupola, which would be simple. They pulled out the caps for the Ammo holders and found more empty casings. Greg again said there were things he could do with those and had the boys bring several shopping carts to load it up. I knew that Greg would be spending sometime in the machine shop. We had the artillery shells we brought in on the pallets, but those Greg explained were high explosive type. What we needed was some armor piercing shells, to knock out the fortified defenses of Fort Sally.