Cooper welcomed the freedom of making highway speed and, despite the cold, rolled down the window so he could feel the wind whipping past him. Angela gave him a wink as they drove, the speed elevating her mood, as well. Calvin’s face softened, though he kept a sharp lookout down the road.
“Keep it at 45. That’s the most efficient speed to save fuel,” Dranko advised once again via the walkie talkie.
“Party pooper,” Cooper bemoaned to those next to him, but complied.
“Still feels like we are doing ninety, compared to what we were doing,” Calvin offered. Cooper nodded, grinning.
Soon after they left Carver, Dranko sped past Cooper to take the lead. Almost exactly five miles east of Carver, he pulled off the road on the left side, next to a distinctive clutch of three white birch trees. He stopped his Jeep, grabbed a shovel from the back and ran do the middle area between all the trees. Before Cooper could even reach him, the dirt was flying in all directions as he dug furiously.
“What are you doing?”
Dranko stopped. When he looked up, he looked like a kid on Christmas morning. “I’m digging up my cache!”
“What?”
“I stored some supplies here. They were meant for walking out of Portland, so no gas though.”
“You mean you have stored some gear out here, buried?”
Beaming, Dranko continued, “Exactly! I knew I might need to walk to Estacada if I’d had to flee my home without proper supplies. Wouldn’t have made it.”
Cooper shook his head in disbelief, “My Lord, you do think of everything!”
Dranko’s shovel clanked metal, “Here, help me.”
Together, they finished dragging out two metal bins that each weighed about thirty pounds. “What’s in here?” Cooper asked as they freed the second one from its hole.
“Some sealed food, water, some first aids supplies, and a Glock 9mm, with three full magazines.”
Cooper stroked his chin, “I guess that’s worth stopping for.”
“It sure was! I’m just happy we’re driving to my cabin instead of having to hoof it. I’m still surprised the roads weren’t hopelessly clogged.”
“Not enough people thought they could flee this thing. They didn’t all get on the road at the exact same time. That’s what saved us.”
Dranko nodded and hefted the first metal bin and began walking back to their vehicles. Cooper grabbed the second and followed him. He was still shaking his head at his friend’s thorough preparations when he deposited the bin marked “food” into the pickup.
In less than an hour, they were approaching Estacada. “There’s a gas station a few miles coming up. Let’s stop there and see if we can fill up,” Dranko informed him.
“Roger that, wilco,” Cooper responded.
As the gas station came into view, Cooper immediately knew it was occupied. Two pickup trucks were parked at either entrance, like watchdogs. At least one man stood up in each pickup bed, rifle in hand. Several men were loitering across the parking lot.
“It’s controlled,” he called to Dranko over the radio.
Cooper decreased his speed, so that he could approach slowly. The men on the ground motioned for him to stop just outside the gas station’s parking lot. A man dressed in a hodgepodge of military clothing approached. He was young, in his twenties, with long, dirty, blond hair that contrasted sharply with his military dress. A sidearm was affixed to his hip, and he carried a large bore shotgun.
“What can I do you for?”
Cooper rolled down his window, “You have gas for sale?”
The man rolled the toothpick in his mouth, “That depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“Are you a registered resident of Estacada?”
Dranko had walked up just then, “Sure. I have a house just outside of town.”
The man eyed them derisively, “I figured as much. You aren’t from around here?”
“We’re fellow Oregonians and I have land up here,” Dranko said, doing his best to sound friendly.
“Well, you gotta register with our Sheriff if you want to buy anything in this town.”
Cooper’s eyebrows knotted, “What does registration mean?”
“You know, the usual. Sign up, keep your nose clean, pay your taxes, and swear loyalty to the Man.”
Cooper’s jaw tightened, “What’s the name of the Man and where can we find him?”
“Sheriff Hodges is the man. He’s gotten us through this mess. Gotten us organized. You can likely find him at the Thriftway, that’s what used to be the supermarket. That’s where most of the trading happens these days.”
“Much obliged. We’ll do that,” Dranko said.
They piled back into their vehicles and drove off.
“Let’s go to your place first. We can figure out what’s going on with Sheriff Hodges tomorrow,” Cooper radioed to Dranko.
Dranko responded by accelerating his Jeep and taking the lead position. In twenty minutes, they were driving up the long driveway to Dranko’s cabin.
The driveway was a skinny affair. Only one vehicle could pass at a time. Gravel crunched under Cooper’s tires as he twisted his steering wheel this way and that making his way up the slight incline. About twenty yards in, out of sight of the road, Cooper spotted something odd. A rusted and graffiti-riddled dumpster sat alongside the driveway. It looked like it belonged on the streets of New York, not in a peaceful, green forest.
He thumbed the walkie talkie, “What’s that?”
He could hear the delight in Dranko’s voice, “My temporary roadblock. It’s filled with rocks, but a man can move it into position to block the driveway. I have a carjack I can use to prop it up and remove the wheels.”
“No one can move it after that, I’d guess.”
“Pretty close. And, if I want to block this driveway semi-permanently, I will fell those two large trees on either side.”
Cooper could tell which ones he meant. He smiled wryly, “Effective, friend.”
“The only way to be, brother,” Dranko’s glee came through loud and clear.
Dranko’s Jeep made it halfway through the next turn before he stopped his vehicle and jumped out. Cooper idled while watching Dranko drop to one knee while examining something very near the ground. He couldn’t make out what he was looking at. After a few seconds, apparently satisfied, Dranko clambered back into the Jeep.
Cooper’s curiosity couldn’t wait, “What was that about?”
Cooper’s radio cackled once again, “I put a lightweight line of fishing line across the road, near tire level. Unless someone is being very careful, I can tell if a person has been through here in a vehicle.”
“Got it. So, I’m guessing we’re clear?”
“Yes, but when we get up there, we should clear the area, just to be safe.”
Cooper smiled once more to himself, “I’d expect nothing less from you.”
They continued driving onward. After two more steep S-turns, they emerged into a large clearing. Off to his left, Cooper saw the cabin. It was truly a cabin, made of logs and gray wattle in the joints. It was small, Cooper guessing twenty by twenty. It was made to appear smaller because the logs themselves were large, thick and out-of-scale to the dwelling’s size. Hmmm, let me guess. Dranko chose logs big enough to stop up to a .50 caliber round? Cooper didn’t have to ask his friend; he was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was right.