Blinding Fear (22 page)

Chapter 34

“Welcome to beautiful and historic Wendover, Utah,” Herc called out, trying to be heard above the whine of the taxiing G150, “Population 1,705—Gateway to slightly larger, but equally beautiful West Wendover, Nevada. Of course you can gamble in the half-a-dozen casinos in West Wendover but we’ll have to stay out of them.”

“So what’s historic about Wendover,” DeAngelo asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“The airport here is where the Enola Gay was stationed before they sent it to the Pacific during World War II.”

“Enola Gay?” Claire said. “I know I’ve heard that name before. Let me think.....”

“It’s the name of the B-29 bomber that dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima at the end of World War II,” DeAngelo stated. “The pilot’s name was Paul Tibbets. Enola Gay was his mother’s name.”

“And just how did you know that? I’m impressed!” Claire asked.

“Between workouts and games for football and wrestling in high school, it’s the one subject I actually enjoyed. And yeah, I know it’s kind of crazy to think that a super jock like me would study anything. I was the exception to the rule—but only in history.”

“In case you missed it as we flew over,” Herc continued, “Wendover is also just west of the Bonneville Salt Flats International Speedway. It’s where many of the land speed records for motor-driven vehicles are set every year. With my telescope in the front yard of my cabin you can see some of the activity. It’s in the Nevada mountains above West Wendover. When the atmospherics are just right, you can hear some of the engines when they reach full power—especially the rocket-powered ones.”

“To bring us back to the present,” Kay said, breaking in. “Herc and I were talking on the flight here. There are a couple of things we thought we should all understand before we get out. First: nobody uses a credit or debit card. Everything you want to buy must be done with cash.”

“Whoa!” DeAngelo exclaimed. “I can guess why we can’t use plastic but I might have twenty bucks in my wallet. That’s it! I gotta get some new duds. And they ain’t gonna be cheap for a guy my size!”

“Everything we need—including whatever clothes you need—is on me, DeAngelo,” Kay replied.

“That’s fine, and I appreciate it and all, but that could add up to some serious change. I hope you got your own bank somewhere nearby!”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Kay said as he levered himself out of the co-pilot’s seat. He made his way past Claire and DeAngelo toward the rear of the passenger cabin. He opened one of the cabinets revealing a small safe. He spun the dial several times, opened it and drew out several stacks of cash. “It’s one of the many things I’ve learned over the years flying around the world. American dollars that you can hold in your hand are very much appreciated by the locals wherever I go. They may not accept American Express or Visa but they will accept these.” He handed a stack to each of them. “That’s two thousand dollars—nothing larger that a twenty. You can see the bills have been widely circulated. I’ve discovered that when doing business with some—shall we call them sketchy—individuals, it’s better to deal in used bills. Fresh, crisp new notes can make them nervous. Around here—since you can gamble in West Wendover, and gambling is one of the ways criminals launder counterfeit money—you pay for anything with a new bill and they’re going to give you and the money very close scrutiny. That’s something we don’t need. I think you’ve already figured out it wouldn’t be advisable to flash the entire wad around here.”

Just then they all felt the jet come to a gentle stop and the engines begin to spool down. After shutting off the 150’s various systems, Herc clambered out of his seat and stood at the front of the cabin. “Rule Two,” he picked up. “No cell phones as long as we’re in town. I think it’s safe to say that our near-disasters in Colorado Springs were the result of somebody monitoring our calls.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t......” Claire responded.

“Nothing to be sorry for Claire. I’m not about to blame you for anything. You had to call your boss—that’s all there is to it. Anyway, if we need to call someone we use a landline or satellite phone. Of course, this plane’s got a sat phone and I’ve got a landline at my cabin. So let’s be smart.”

“Rule Three,” Herc added. “Whenever we’re in town, be inconspicuous. We’ll melt into the woodwork as best we can. No fancy clothes, no spending sprees, we don’t go into bars and buy a round for the house. You know what I mean.”

“Hey man,” DeAngelo said. “It’s easy for you to say. But when you’re a six foot six, two hundred eighty pound black man in Mormon country, it ain’t gonna be so easy!”

Herc couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, DeAngelo. What can I say? Guess I’m not thinking too clear.”

“No problem.”

“I’ve got a used car I keep parked in one of the hangars,” Herc continued. “I pay one of the local mechanics to keep an eye on it and give it regular maintenance while I’m away. That way, I can fly in whenever I’ve got some time off, pick up the car and drive to my cabin.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a key ring with many keys on it, and handed it to DeAngelo. “That’s the key to the hangar, the car—it’s an older Range Rover SUV—and various locks at my house. It’s easy to tell which one goes to the hangar door and car. Why don’t you get everybody comfortable in the car while I head over to the civil aviation check-in desk. I need to make sure the 150 gets fully serviced and fueled.”

“Got it,” DeAngelo replied as he hoisted his massive frame from the seat. He had to duck while heading toward the cabin door. “Let’s move it folks. Remember the drill: I lead wherever we go. Once things look clean, I signal and you follow. Clear?” He looked at Claire and Kay for confirmation. They simply nodded in return.

Moments later, in the quickly fading light of early evening, they walked across the heavily weathered tarmac of the 80-plus year old airport. It was a 100-yard stroll to the hangar. Within minutes DeAngelo had opened the outer door, found the Range Rover among many other vehicles and got them settled inside with the air conditioning running at full blast.

Fifteen minutes later Herc opened the passenger-side front door and jumped in. “All set.” He pointed to a remote control on the sun visor. “That controls the main hangar door. Give her a push and let’s get out of here before it gets too late. Some of the stores that sell clothes and supplies, close at sundown.” He stopped for a second to think. “Tell you what. There’s a thrift store and drug store next door to each other just up the block. Why don’t we stop there first. DeAngelo, you can probably pick up everything you need between the two of them. Claire, why don’t you help him. While you do that, Kay and I will shop for fresh food and other household items we need.”

An hour and a half later DeAngelo had managed to find some acceptable clothes as well as toiletry items. Herc and Kay picked up emergency food kits and other survival supplies at a camping store. They also bought a substantial amount of fresh fruits, vegetables and frozen foods. Once reunited, and with DeAngelo driving, they headed west out of town on Interstate 80. After about twenty miles they exited onto an unmarked dirt road that headed into the mountains north of the cities. Herc explained it had provided access to a long-since abandoned gravel quarry. As they got away from the I-80 corridor they began a circuitous climb into the rugged peaks that ran north and south on the far-eastern edge of The Silver State.

After only a few minutes on the rough and sometimes very narrow road, DeAngelo said, “Glad you got a four-wheeler, Herc. I’d hate to take this rabbit trail you call a road in the limo!”

“Yeah. I know exactly what you mean,” Herc said. “The first time I drove it was in ’09 with my real estate agent. I was looking for a secluded place to build a retreat of sorts where I could go and just get away from things. We were in her car. It was a Cadillac DeVille and the road was a lot rougher. We got about where we are now and she hit a sharp rock and punctured the oil pan. It cost her about a thousand bucks in tow bills and repairs. She was upset about the whole thing, but eventually felt better when she got a fat commission check when I bought the property. After that I figured it’d be a good idea to re-grade the road.”

“Aren’t you concerned some local crook will discover the place and rip you off?” DeAngelo asked.

“It has occurred to me, so I try to be secretive when I come to town. Some of the local shopkeepers have asked where my place is but I just give them vague answers. I’ve also got an annunciator alarm on the road coming up. If I’m in the place, I set it so a tone sounds inside the house to tell me somebody’s on the way up. If I’m away, the alarm goes to the local sheriff’s office. There’ve been three alarms that a deputy has responded to. All were wildlife tripping the sensors. While we were on our way here I called ahead to let them know I was coming.”

Forty-five minutes later DeAngelo swung the Range Rover around one last corner and pulled onto a large, semi-circular flat area that had obviously been cut and graded into the face of the mountain. The SUVs headlights revealed to Claire that it must have been pounded smooth by years of heavy vehicular traffic. She estimated it to be roughly a hundred feet in diameter. On the side opposite the mountain there was a spectacular, unobstructed, 180-degree view of the Great Salt Lake Basin. In the far distance, through the increasing gloom of evening, she could see a thin ribbon of jeweled lights that she guessed was I-80 cutting across the valley floor, headed toward Salt Lake City. On the mountain side was a large cave opening. She estimated it to be 50 feet wide and 30 feet high at its tallest. Centered in its mouth, and recessed well back from the entrance, was what looked like two double-wide mobile homes that had been connected to form a much-larger one. From the single flood light that bathed the area she could see their 90 foot length stretched deep into the cave. Very wide picture windows spanned the entire front of the house.

“Welcome to my home-away-from-home,” Herc said as the Range Rover came to a stop in a small cloud of dust. “Even though it’s just leveled and flattened dirt and rock, I call the this area we’re on my front yard. The gravel company I bought the property from stumbled across a rich vein of turquoise in this cave in 1966,” Herc said. “Their operations lasted until the mid 80s. They cut the front yard to create turn around space for the heavy equipment they used for the mining operation. They also put in the landline telephone at about the same time. Essentially, all they did was lay the wire on the ground, rocks and bushes. Every few months I have to fix it where some animal has decided it might be a tasty snack. Without it I’d be completely cut off. There’s poor cell coverage here.”

Kay, DeAngelo and Claire got out the Range Rover and walked over to silently admire the view. Herc headed for his home in the cave. “Give me a few minutes while I open the place and get the rest of the lights turned on,” he called over his shoulder.

Five minutes later additional flood lights sprang on, illuminating the front yard as well as the front of the cave and house further inside. To the right of the cave entrance, 30 or 40 feet up on the hillside, they saw a satellite TV dish. Herc came back out. “Why don’t we get unloaded and move our stuff into the house.”

“I’m on it,” DeAngelo said as he walked over and opened the rear lift gate of the Range Rover. He began pulling out luggage, bags and boxes as Claire, Kay and Herc joined in.

“I thought you told us your place was off the grid,” Kay asked looking at the lights.

“Technically it is. Although I’ve obviously got electricity, nothing here is actually connected to the public power grid. There’s an all-season stream nearby where I installed a micro-hydro electric generator. It gives me consistent power 24-7-365. The average house needs about 8,000 kilowatt hours per year. My unit gives me more than 16,000. The stream also supplies me with clean water through diversion pipes. I’ve got a 1,000-gallon storage tank further back in the cave. I put a reverse osmosis filtration system on it.”

“Sure you didn’t know about this comet before all the FBI crap started goin’ down?” DeAngelo asked as they all headed toward the house. “You’re beginning to sound like a doomsday prepper.”

Herc laughed, then paused, suddenly realizing how inappropriate his laugher was. “Yeah, I suppose I am, aren’t I. But no, I hadn’t any idea about the comet until recently. When I started looking for a retreat I never intended building some kind of bunker to escape the coming zombie apocalypse. It’s a little ironic. I just wanted a quiet, off-the-grid place up in the mountains. Since I’m a pilot and like things that go fast, being near Bonneville seemed like a good fit, too. My ideas for the property and house just kind of evolved. I’ve got to admit, though, that later on the evolution involved bringing in emergency food kits and other supplies. It just seemed like a sensible idea given what we see in the news everyday. The truth is I’ve got enough freeze dried and vacuum-sealed food stored further back in the cave, to keep an army alive for months.” He stopped speaking for another moment, then continued. “In my wildest nightmares I couldn’t have foreseen that what I have here is what everybody on the planet might someday be fighting each other to get into.”