Ozark Retreat (6 page)

“Okay. Thank you, Brady. Brady, before you go, could you give me some tips about what to do if this war talk comes true?”

“Gee, Star! I don’t think a few tips will help, but… buy non-perishable food, a lot of it. And get lots of water. And look for a place where you can shelter from fallout. Better yet, get out of town. Kansas City may or may not be a target. There are so many things that should be done. It’s hard to prepare on short notice, even with plenty of money.”

“I understand, Brady. Thanks for the advice. I’ll walk you to the door.”

Brady found himself reluctant to leave. Sure she was a grown woman and able to take care of herself. But still…

Then he was outside, walking to the Suburban. His conscience pricked him a bit as he drove away. He’d gone less than a block when he turned around and went back to the house. The maid let him in when he rang the bell. Star came walking in to see who it was. “Brady!” she exclaimed, obviously quite surprised to see him again.

“Look. I have a retreat in the Ozarks. If you want to go with me until this all blows over… since your father isn’t here…”

“Really?” Star asked softly. “Even after all the trouble I’ve been?”

Brady nodded. It was enough for Star. She became all business. “What do I need to bring? Besides money.” She was headed for the study. Brady followed along.

“I’ve got everything we need,” he told her.

“I pay my way,” she replied, going to the safe and opening it. She went to the credenza behind the desk, leaned down and took out a leather attaché case. She transferred everything in the safe to the case. “What else?”

“Camping gear if you have it.”

“We use the motorhome. You think I should drive it down?”

“No. Be nice to have, but it would slow us down. I really want to get going.”

“What about guns? All right if I bring one? Or two?”

Again Brady was surprised by Star. “One little one and one big one?” She pulled a Walther PPK from somewhere behind her back and showed it to him. “Daddy got it for me.”

A little alarmed now, Brady quickly asked. “Can you shoot it effectively?”

“Oh, sure. I go to the range three or four times a year.”

“Okay. You had that on the trip?”

Star nodded and re-holstered the PPK. Brady had to look hard to see its imprint on her shirt in the small of her back. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t picked up on the fact that she had apparently been carrying the entire time. There was even a spare magazine from the looks of it.

“And the big gun?” Brady asked.

“It’s Daddy’s actually, but it’s the only long gun Daddy has here. It was a gift and he likes to keep it handy and look at it.” Star went to a large wooden armoire and opened one of the tall doors. She took out a very expensive looking case and set it down on the desk. “Take a look. Should I even bring it?”

Brady opened the case. “Nice gift!” he said as he peered down at the beautifully engraved long arm. “A drilling,” Brady said then, picking up the butt-stock and action from its compartment in the case.

“Actually,” Star corrected him, “It’s a Vierling. There are four barrels, not three.”

Brady picked up the barrels and looked in the chamber end. She was right. He checked the ammunition in the case. Apparently it was a double barrel twenty-gauge with a .308 Winchester barrel below, and a .22 Hornet just above the .308.

“It’s a Heym Model 37V Vierling,” Star said. “Daddy looked it up after he got it. Over twenty-grand to have one made. He loves to admire it. Only shot it a couple of times. He let me shoot it once at the range. Several people shot it that day. The consensus was that it was ‘Sweet’. I could see why they said it.”

“Not a good defensive weapon, but a great hunting gun. Bring it if you want. Do you have any more ammunition for it?”

“In the armoire.”

Brady went over to look and found two full boxes of twenty-gauge 7 ½ shot, two twenty-round boxes each of .308 and .22 Hornet hunting ammunition. There was also a partial box of each. Brady set it out. He noticed a wooden case, and on a hunch, checked it. It was a fancy gun cleaning kit. He set it on the desk, too.

Star put the two components back into their individual compartments in the case. A tooled leather sling was in another compartment, with a quick detach scope in another. Eight shotgun rounds and four each .308 and .22 Hornet occupied drilled holes in an upholstered ammunition block.

“This really should be kept in a gun safe,” Brady said.

“Daddy thought about it, he said. But figured if he had one he’d just bring his collection home. He’s trying to shy away from them. Politics and all, you know.”

Brady decided not to get into that debate. “Put the ammo in your case and go get everything you want to take. I’ll take these out to the truck. Will we need to go to your apartment, too?”

“No. I spend so much time here that everything important is kept here. The apartment is more for the show of independence. And to be by myself when I really want to be.”

Brady waited in the entry hall for Star after he put the gun and ammunition in the Suburban. Star came around a corner carrying two large suitcases. The maid was behind her with two more.

Taking the two cases from the maid, despite her protest, he led the way out to the Suburban, Star following along with her two cases. “What do you have in here, bricks?” Brady asked as he hefted the first case into the back of the Suburban.

“Just girly things,” Star replied.

Brady didn’t reply. He just put the other bags in beside the first one.

“Just one more,” Star said, headed back to the house, while Brady waited with the back door of the truck open.

She loaded it herself when she returned. Brady noted that Star was wearing a much heavier coat now, but was still in the blue jeans and blue shirt, and baseball cap. She’d changed shoes, too, from the jogging shoes she’d got at the mall for a comfortable looking pair of walking shoes.

“I’m ready,” she said, shifting the large leather shoulder bag to a more comfortable position, and Brady closed the door.

With both of them in the Suburban, Brady set off. “You need to stop anywhere?”

“Yeah. My bank.” Brady hated to use the time. China was invading and the US carriers were launching aircraft to intervene. They might not have much time. But he drove Star to her bank and waited in the Suburban while she went in. It seemed like forever to Brady, but it was just a few minutes.

Then he got a little annoyed, for when she came out she pointed to a shop next door to the bank, turned and went in. Brady couldn’t make out what kind of shop it was, but if she came out carrying a fancy dress he was going to turn her over his knee. He was still contemplating how bad an idea that actually was when she hurried out of the store. She ran over to the Suburban and got in. She wasn’t carrying anything, but since she said, “That’s it. We’d better go. They had a radio on in the store. I’m getting really scared, Brady.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be safe at my retreat when we get there.”

“Good. But we still have to get there before the world blows up. Thank you so much for bringing me along. You certainly didn’t have to. I hope Daddy is okay.”

Brady didn’t reply. The snow storm had caught up with them. The blizzard would be on them before they reached Springfield, Brady was sure. And after that, if the forecast held true, they’d be out of the blizzard, sure, but had an ice storm to get through before they got to the retreat. He did take the time to top off the fuel tanks with diesel before they left Kansas City behind them.

They continued to listen to the radio as the miles and the hours passed. Brady was an experienced driver and had little trouble with the snow in the heavy, four-wheel-drive Suburban.

Suddenly Star said, “I noticed all the stuff on the Suburban. Can you tell me about it? It all looks so interesting.”

Brady hesitated, but shrugged mentally. Star was going to the retreat. Wouldn’t be many secrets left when they got there. “Sure. Stop me if I bore you.”

“Don’t worry,” Star said with a laugh.

“Well, of course it started out as a standard four-wheel-drive three-quarter ton Chevy Suburban. It was stolen from the original owners by one of the Mexican drug gangs. They had some custom things done to it, like the snorkel and a winch under the front bumper. Larger fuel tanks replaced the original tank. Put a two-inch lift under it. They had a light bar on top for driving lights. And some hidden compartments here and there. It was used as a carrier for cross border drug runs in remote areas.

“They finally got caught by the Border Patrol and the Suburban was impounded and put up for auction. I knew about it, of course, and put in a bid for it. Wasn’t the Suburban’s fault it had been used for illegal activities.

“I used it the way it was until I started prepping. I made a few changes after I learned about such things on the internet. Swapped the gasoline engine for a non-electronic diesel and had the frame reinforced. Instead of an alternator, I got an old fashioned 12-volt generator installed, along with an air pump, and hydraulic pump. I replace the original single battery with a two battery system for the 24-volt starter, using the biggest batteries that would fit. Plus, there is a third deep discharge 12-volt battery to run 12-volt equipment and an inverter.

Compressed air is piped to the front and rear bumpers so I can use air tools for changing tires and such. Ditto for the hydraulic system. Besides using it for tools, it supplies the power for the new hydraulic winch that replaced the 12-volt winch in the front bumper. I’ve got a portable hydraulic winch that slides into the rear receiver hitch.”

Brady looked over at Star. She still looked interested, so Brady continued. “The same shop that replaced the engine installed heavier skid plates, and added a couple more. A welder friend made the heavy-duty custom bumpers. The front bumper, beside the winch, has the light guards I’m sure you saw, along with the additional lights and spare tire carrier. There is also a 2-inch receiver hitch under the bumper.

“The rear bumper has a 2-inch receiver hitch and swing away mounts for another spare tire, Hi-Lift jack, D-handle shovel, axe, pick-mattock, sledge hammer, and three five-gallon jerry cans of water.

“The heavy-duty top rack has more lights mounted around the edges and two remote control spot/flood lamps. The antennas for the communications gear are mounted on it, too. I don’t carry much in it most of the time, because of fuel mileage, but there are a pair of aluminum bridging ramps, an extension ladder, and a third spare tire in it right now.”

“These are custom bucket seats and console. As you can see, the communications and navigation gear are mounted in it, along with the auxiliary switches for the extra lighting.

“I have a couple toolboxes in back with tools, service items, and spare parts.”

“Wow! You know, I almost bought a Hummer, once. Just for kicks. I think I like this better.”

“Maybe you have the prepper gene,” Brady said and Star laughed. Brady liked her laugh.

He kept up a steady pace, going south on Highway 13, occasionally passing a vehicle going slower than he was. Much of the traffic was going around him, but he’d already seen enough vehicles off in the ditch, many of them four-wheel drive, than to drive the same way. And they hadn’t even hit the ice yet.

Brady stopped and helped the first two vehicles they saw off the road, but there were just too many of them if they stopped and helped everyone. Emergency services vehicles, as well as maintenance vehicles were out in force. Brady decided to let them handle the job they were being paid to do. He quit stopping to help, even as the blizzard caught up and passed them.

He slowed down to a crawl in four-wheel-drive but was able to keep going. The state had been plowing the road so the snow wasn’t too deep in the travel lanes yet, but it was building rapidly. They began to see more cars stopped. Not all of them were in the ditch. Some had just stopped in the travel lanes, afraid to go further in the blizzard.

Brady carefully drove around them until finally they saw no one else. They were the only thing still moving. The snow was almost up to the bumper on the front of the Suburban, but it was a light, dry snow and the truck was able to push through it with little trouble on the somewhat aggressive all-weather Toyo tires the Suburban sported.

Brady was about ready to pull to the shoulder and stop. The Suburban was losing traction occasionally now. But he decided to push on just a little bit further. He was glad he did, for in another mile they ran out of the snow fall like driving through a wall. There was only the lightest dusting of snow ahead of them.

Unfortunately, as they hit Springfield, they hit freezing rain and were right back down to a crawling pace. But Brady kept it up. They were on the home stretch. Though he still had plenty of fuel, he topped the tanks again, so they could take a break and get something to eat and warm to drink, before they continued.

“I don’t see how you do it,” Star said, as they left Springfield and picked up Highway 65 going south toward Branson. “I’d be a nervous wreck. I never would have made it through the snow, much less this. Especially in the motorhome.”

“We aren’t there yet.”

“I’ll shut up,” Star said. “I am a jinx.”

No sooner than she had said it than a car on an intersecting road couldn’t stop and slid through the intersection. Brady had to swerve to miss it and the Suburban spun out, going down into the ditch on the right side. It still had a little bit of momentum and Brady floored the accelerator. The diesel engine roared and the Suburban began sliding all over, but Brady was able to get it back up onto the road.