Because of Terry’s injury, the Prines have agreed to let us stay on as long as we’d like, but we don’t want to wear out our welcome and their stock of supplies. (Mrs. Prine’s sister and brother-in-law and their two teenage boys moved in three weeks ago, and the stored food supply will soon be critical.) Is there any way that you could provide transportation to the retreat? I realize that this is asking a lot, and would involve considerable risk, so feel free to say no.
To avoid missing you, we promise that we will stay here until we either hear from you or somebody shows up. Please send word via courier or by radio, if you get a chance. Do you have the night-time CB voice message relay network set up, up there?
Well, that’s all for now. Once again, we hope that all is well with you.
God Bless you all.
Over lunch, Manny Olivera told of conditions in southern Idaho. He reported that some towns, including Caldwell, were left virtually untouched by the chaos. Others, including Idaho Falls and Boise, were devastated. He related,
“Half of Boise burned down in a three-day period, just house after house. There were only two fire trucks available at the time because the money wasn’t worth anything, and nearly all the city employees decided to stay home. The few firemen that did show up to try and fight the fire were kept pinned down by sporadic gunfire. My brother was there and saw it happen, and he told me all about it. It was pathetic.”
Following lunch, Todd offered Manny some silver coins for delivering the letter. He refused the offer. Todd then asked, “Is there anything else that we can do for you aside from just feeding you lunch? It doesn’t seem like much, considering that you came seventy-five miles out of your way to deliver this letter.”
After a pause, Manny said, “I could use some gasoline, sir.”
Without hesitating, Todd said, “Go start up your hog, and ride up to the back end of the garage. It’s the Quonset hut building. We’ll fill up your bike’s tank and top off both jerry cans.”
Olivera cocked his head and asked, “Is it good gas? A lot of people have had problems with their gas going bad in the last year or so.”
“Don’t worry. We added Sta-Bil stabilizer. It should be fine for at least two more years.”
“I hear that they’ve started making ethanol—you know, corn gas—back in Iowa and Kansas. Won’t work in all engines though.”
Olivera soon filled his Harley’s tank and two five-gallon cans. Dan Fong approached Manny and pressed a box of nine-millimeter hollow points into his hands. “Dude, I think that you’re going to need these more than I will,”
Fong said earnestly.
Olivera smiled at Dan and replied, “Muchas gracias.” He stuffed the box of ammunition into one of the pockets of his field jacket and shook hands with everyone and thanked them once again. After T.K. ushered him through the gate and he rode off with a wave, Todd called for another meeting. Della replaced Lon at the LP/OP.
As the meeting progressed, it became clear that some of the members were enthusiastic for an expedition to go get Ken and Terry, while others, including Lon Porter and Lisa Nelson, urged caution. Lon was blunt. “We know pretty well what conditions are like in our immediate area, but anything over twenty miles away could just as well be the Antarctic for all that we know about it.
There could be whole areas controlled by brigands. They could have roadblocks set up. Anyone traveling cross-country could run into people infected with diseases like cholera. I say that the risks outweigh the rewards.”
After debate at length, it was decided that the group owed Ken and Terry enough that they had to make some effort at bringing them back to the retreat. It was T.K. who settled the issue. He said resoundingly, “I recall a quote from a man named Saganelian: ‘Every risk has its compensation.’ I’m willing to take nearly any risk to make us whole again. It’s what we’ve pledged ourselves to from the very beginning. Granted, they’re safe enough where they are, but they are taking advantage of the good graces of the Prines. The letter specifically noted that the family is getting low on food. Further, I don’t believe in saying ‘tough luck,’ and I don’t believe in ‘no-win scenarios.’We’ve simply got to undertake this mission. It should take three individuals, a four-wheel drive rig, and twelve or more cans of gas to do the job. Ideally, I think we should mainly consider the bachelors. That’s why I’m nominating myself first.”
Without a pause, Kevin, Dan, and Doug chimed in, “I’ll go,” almost simultaneously.
A moment later, Jeff Trasel declared, “Well, count me in, too.”
Todd looked toward Carlton quizzically and asked, “What’s your interest, Doug?You’ve never even met the Laytons.”
Carlton replied, “Well, they’re members, aren’t they? We’ve been eating part of their stored food, haven’t we? It was Ken that did the restoration on most of the rigs here. We wouldn’t have reliable transportation if it weren’t for him. It was Terry Layton that ram-rodded all the logistics. And she didn’t overlook much, did she? We wouldn’t have a deep larder if it weren’t for her. The way I see it, I owe them plenty.”
The debate over who should go centered on both the tactical skills of those who had volunteered, and how the militia could get along without them if they did not make it back. Unspoken, but doubtless in the minds of everyone present, was the aspect of marriage. In the end, T.K., Dan, and Kevin were selected from among the volunteers. To Todd, realizing that all three of them were bachelors, the words “they were expendable” came to mind. He knew that the three men didn’t take offense though. Like so many decisions at the retreat, it reflected cold, hard logic. Husbands had the Christian duty to care for their wives. Bachelors were the logical choice for the risky mission.
The preparations for the trip took four days. First, T.K.’s Bronco was chosen as the vehicle to use. T.K. swapped batteries with Todd’s Power Wagon. Because Todd’s truck had been run more often, its battery had a better charge.
The Bronco’s gas tanks were drained into cans, and then refilled from the large storage tank behind the garage.
If Mary had her way, the Grays would have replaced their garage/shop building soon after they bought the retreat. Todd described it as “ugly as sin, but eminently practical.” Mary referred to it as “just plain ugly.” As best as Todd could tell, the building was an original World War II surplus galvanized steel Quonset hut. It sat on a concrete slab foundation, and had a pair of sliding doors at each end. Todd liked it because, like the house, it was essentially fire-proof. The only changes that Todd made to the building initially were welding bars over the side windows and adding lock hasps to the doors.
Because security of the garage was not considered as critical as that of the house, Todd did not overengineer the window bars. He made them out of standard concrete reinforcing bar stock, commonly called “rebar.” Although the bars were made of mild steel, they would suffice in keeping out all but the most determined burglars. After mounting the hasps, Todd ordered a set of twelve “keyed-alike” one-and-three-quarters-inch Master brand padlocks from Grainger Supply. With keyed-alike locks, one key could open any padlock at the retreat, eliminating any confusion about keys. Todd eventually mounted hasps on the inside of the wood chute and each of the outbuildings.
Another one of the keyed-alike locks was mounted on the front gate at the county road.
The garage was the site of what eventually turned out to be the most expensive of the Grays’ “upgrades” before the Crunch—fuel storage. After requesting bids from several contractors, Todd and Mary selected a firm from Lewiston to build their underground fuel storage tanks. They opted for two tanks, each with a thousand-gallon capacity. One was for unleaded premium fuel while the other was for diesel for their tractor.