Collision Course (3 page)

CHAPTER 3

D
J woke up and looked at his watch. It was just past noon, and the air in his tent was warming up. He pulled his boots on and stepped outside, his rifle in hand. Nothing looked as if it had been disturbed, but he carefully walked around the perimeter just to make sure all was as it should be in this small wooded area. Content that nothing was amiss, DJ looked out beyond the trees. Fields surrounded his camp, except for the creek, the tracks, and one lone farmhouse, which looked to be a mile or more away.

He would wait for dark to continue his trek. That gave him about eight hours to kill. He fixed himself a nice meal, taking his time. Once he'd eaten, he strung up a net hammock between two trees and pulled out a book. As he read, cottonlike clouds began to move in on the breeze. They covered the sun and dropped the temperature a few degrees. The breeze, cloud cover, and large meal were just the right formula for a nap. DJ didn't even notice the book slip from his hand.

A faint rhythmical thumping woke him up. He didn't know what it was, but he knew it wasn't right. He dumped himself out of the hammock and clutched his rifle. At first, he thought that a piece of farm equipment might have been causing the sound, but a quick look around revealed no machinery in any of the fields. When he listened closer, he realized it was coming from down the tracks. It didn't sound like a locomotive, at least not one of the big ones. Maybe it was a small engine used for track maintenance. DJ checked to make sure nothing in his campsite would give him away without a thorough search of the woods. The white pages of the book lying on the ground could be visible through the trees. He quickly picked it up and stuck it under the cover on his ATV. Satisfied that his hide was now as secure as it could be, given the situation, he peered down the tracks to get a better look.

DJ almost laughed when the old Cadillac rounded the bend. One side's tires were inside the tracks and the other's were on the outside, but still on the wooden ties. As the car neared, DJ could see that the whole thing was shaking. The suspension was unable to absorb the bumping the evenly spaced ties caused.

The Detroit dinosaur was only advancing at twenty or twenty-five miles per hour. As it crept toward DJ's woods, he moved behind a tree where he could conceal himself but still see. As the car finally passed, DJ could only make out a driver. The old man appeared to be in his seventies or early eighties. He looked straight ahead as he passed with a grip on the steering wheel that had turned his knuckles white.

When the fins on the old car disappeared around the next bend, DJ glanced at his watch. It was almost four p.m. He returned to his hammock and book and read for about an hour and a half. He fixed another meal and ate. Then he pulled out his maps again and scoured his route for the night. He'd have ten hours of darkness, and he planned to make a good distance tonight. His next hideout was about a hundred and fifty miles away. He'd stay on the tracks for about two-thirds of that distance. A section of gravel county roads was after that, and then he would head down a power line easement. He hadn't been down the easement before, but he'd gone down every road that intersected it and had marked it both on his map and in his GPS. Happy with the plan, he put the maps up and tried to get a little more sleep before he left.

He dozed, fitfully, his previous nap having taken the edge off his tiredness. Finally it started getting dark, so he broke camp and loaded everything up. It wasn't completely dark when he left, but it was close enough.

The first few miles went just as he planned, but the road beside the tracks became gradually rougher the farther he went. This wouldn't normally have been a problem. The quad and trailer were made for much rougher conditions than these, but his night-vision goggles severely hindered his depth perception. Many of the potholes and bumps he was hitting just looked like flat ground, and a few times, he almost got pitched off the big bike. He was still making good time, but it wasn't as fast as he'd planned. He could take off the night-vision goggles and use his headlight, but that would make him more vulnerable if someone was waiting along the tracks. He decided the best thing to do was to continue at a cautious pace.

DJ also found that he had to climb up onto the tracks more often than he'd anticipated, and not just for the creeks. He knew where all of those were. He was also forced to avoid many downed trees, which had fallen over the access road. DJ figured this section of the road must not have been used in quite some time. In many places, the grass had grown up quite tall, and he had to be especially careful of uneven ground in those spots. Between creeping through the grass and navigating around the trees every few miles, he finally decided that riding on the tracks like the old man in the Cadillac would be faster, but would it be safe?

No trains had traveled down this track in the eighteen hours he'd been next to it, but that didn't guarantee there wouldn't be one. DJ wondered if he should risk it. He'd be able to see a train coming toward him, and although he was worried about the possibility of a train sneaking up from behind, he figured he'd probably be able to hear it approaching. He decided it was worth the risk. He wished he had a rearview mirror on his bike, but he never thought he'd need one. Oh well, he couldn't think of everything.

DJ wondered how old the satellite pictures he'd used to plan his route were. He wouldn't have thought the railroad would let their access road get so overgrown, but they obviously had.

The trailer was equipped with taillights, but he'd left them unconnected. He decided to hook them up. They would hopefully be visible to a train if it approached and perhaps the engineer would blow his horn if he got too close.
Besides,
DJ thought,
I really don't have to be that concerned about anything but a train from behind me, so the taillights are okay.

The tracks proved to be a lot better than the road had been, and DJ was able to pick up his speed. He had to deal with the unevenness of the ties and the gravel between them, but that was minor, and the bike easily soaked up the bumps as long as he kept a reasonable pace. He made sure to check behind him every minute or so.

At midnight he began to get hungry. He pulled the four-wheeler off the tracks and found a nice little open spot. Opening the storage box on the back of the Polaris, DJ removed and opened an MRE with the aid of his red LED headlamp. He activated the chemical heater with a little water and slid the main course into the heater pouch. While he waited for his chicken and noodles to warm up, he snacked on the crackers and cheese spread. MREs weren't DJ's favorite food, but they were easy and filling.

When he had finished the meal, he stuck the trash into a large Ziploc bag. He'd burn it when he got somewhere safe enough to build a fire. He started the quad up and put his night-vision goggles on. Back on the tracks, he continued making decent time, happy that things were working out almost as well as he'd expected.

A little while later, DJ was rounding a long, slow bend in the tracks. As he finally got to where the tracks straightened out and he could see for quite a ways, he hit the brakes on the quad. At the moderate speed he was going, the big bike stopped almost instantly. There was something on the tracks about half a mile in front of him. It was hard to judge distance with the goggles, so he removed them, but all he could see with his naked eyes was blackness. He put the goggles back on and slowly pulled the bike down into the tall grass beside the tracks. He was careful to keep the engine rpm as low as possible in order to remain discreet.

He shut the bike off and dismounted, deciding it would be best to go check it out on foot. He removed the black rifle from the scabbard and set it down next to him. Then he draped the camo netting he'd packed over both the quad and the trailer. Picking up his rifle, he checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded and slowly started to make his way toward whatever was on the tracks.

DJ moved carefully through the tall grass. Every fifty steps, he crept up closer to the tracks until he could get a look at the obstruction. He was very cautious to only stick his head up just enough to see. This would present whoever or whatever was down there the smallest target possible if they were watching for someone.

He'd covered almost half the distance when he finally recognized the Cadillac that had passed his camp that afternoon. DJ watched the car for several minutes but could perceive no movement around or in it. He wondered what had happened. Had someone jumped the old man? Maybe he'd broken down or simply run out of gas. Or could this be some kind of trap? He slowed his pace even more, using all of his senses to examine his surroundings.

He got closer and closer to the car, but he didn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary. He moved past the car about a hundred yards to make sure no one was set up on the other side. Once he was satisfied it was safe, he sneaked up to the car. Peering inside, he saw the old man lying on the front seat. DJ wondered if he was asleep or dead. The backseat was full of all kinds of stuff; pots and pans, clothing, tools, canned food, and many other goods were stacked from the floor to the top of the seats.

DJ crept around the car looking for any signs of foul play. He didn't see any, but he did identify the reason the Caddy had stopped. One of the ties had rotted, and the front tire of the big car had fallen through and become wedged between the ties.

DJ caught movement from inside the car out of the corner of his eye. His head swiveled around to see the old man sit up behind the wheel. DJ instinctively ducked down behind the car, gripping his weapon a little tighter. Brake lights washed out DJ's view through the goggles. He pulled them off his face as he heard the hum of an electric window.

“Is anyone out there?” the old man called out.

DJ wondered whether to answer or not.

“Is anyone out there?” the old man repeated, a little louder.

What could the old man do to him? “Yeah,” DJ answered.

“Do you think you could help me get my car unstuck? I can pay you.”

“Do you have any weapons?”

“Just an old shotgun and a revolver,” the old man said, “but I need them. I can pay you cash, though.”

DJ found the man's answer amusing. He had no need for relics. “I don't want them. I just want to make sure you're not going to shoot me.”

“You don't worry about that, sonny. I wouldn't do no one no harm unless they was trying to harm me.”

“That's good to know. Do me a favor. Take your foot off the brake pedal.”

The brake lights went out.

“Now turn on the interior lights,” DJ said. Then he saw the dome light come on. “Please stick your hands out of the window.”

“What for?” the old man said.

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Yes.”

“Then please do as I ask. Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. I just have to make sure it's safe,” DJ said with authority in his voice.

“Okay, my hands are out of the window.”

DJ stepped out from behind the car and activated his weapon-mounted light. He shined it in the old man's eyes as he continued to move clockwise. “Now use the outside door handle and open your door.”

The man did as he was told.

“Step out and put your hands on top of your head and interlace your fingers, please.”

Again the man complied. His back was toward DJ, who shined his light up and down, looking for a weapon. Nothing was visible.

“Now turn around and face me.”

When the man was facing him, DJ again looked for a weapon and sized him up. The old man was average height but very thin. The look on his face said he wasn't dangerous, but DJ knew looks could be deceiving.

“Where are your weapons?”

“The shotgun is in the trunk, and my handgun is in the glove box.”

“Good. We're almost done here,” DJ assured the man. “Turn back around, and I'm just going to pat you down a little.”

The man turned, and thirty seconds later, DJ was convinced he wasn't a threat. He turned off his weapon light.

“Sorry about all of that,” DJ said, “but you can't be too careful, you know?”

“I guess that's right,” the man said thoughtfully. He stuck out his hand. “My name is Jacob Kessler.”

DJ grabbed the hand firmly. “DJ, DJ Frost. Where are you headed, Mr. Kessler?”

“Please call me Jacob. Everybody does. I'm going to my son's place. At least I was until I got stuck. He lives about twenty miles from here, I think.”

“I see. Aren't you afraid a train might come along?”

“No. I live beside the tracks just outside of town. Some days, there are eight or ten trains that go down these tracks. Four's about the fewest there ever is, but there hasn't been a single one since the electricity went out. I guess they need power to track where the trains are and run the switches and stuff.”

DJ hadn't thought of that, but it made sense. He looked at his watch. It was pushing three in the morning. Obviously he wouldn't be making anywhere near the distance he'd planned. He would help the old man out and then try to find a good spot to hole up for the daylight hours. He'd packed plenty of extra food just in case he got delayed a day or two.

“Where did you come from?” Jacob asked.

“I came from town, just like you.”

“Where's your car?”

“I don't have one,” DJ said.

“You're not walking, are you?”

“No, I have a four-wheeler about half a mile down the tracks. I just walked up here to make sure this wasn't a trap.”

“That's a good idea,” Jacob said. “Both the four-wheeler and checking for a trap, that is.”

“Well, let's see if we can't get you unstuck.” DJ pulled a small flashlight out of the cargo pocket of his trousers and shined it on the problem wheel.

“I can't get her to budge frontward or backward.”