An electric gate protected the main entrance to the property. The gate motor was a low voltage motor, which was powered by a pair of RV type batteries. The control panel had a simple solar panel above it to keep the batteries charged. Logan had already confirmed the gate was working except for the keypad. EMP waves had apparently damaged the small controller used to store and confirm keypad entries. Logan figured out how to jump the wires inside the control box to open and close the gate. He found two simple toggle switches in the workshop. He wired them up, and after testing them, he used duct tape to adhere them inside the control box. A padlock on the control box secured it. Logan found four keys that fit the lock. He tagged them all with paracord. He kept one, gave one to Madison, and placed the extra in the kitchen. The last one he placed near the gate under a large lava rock.
Around 4:00 p.m., Logan was partway up the hill above the house when he spotted two old Honda three-wheelers coming up the road toward the property. A single person was on the lead bike, towing an odd-looking trailer behind it. The unwieldly trailer tilted side to side from the large pile of boxes, and bags secured to it rope and straps. The second bike with two riders was trailing back a bit, obviously trying to avoid the dust kicked up by the lead bike. Gear and bags dangled from the handlebars of both bikes. Logan could see what looked like rifle cases tied on top of the gear. Both bikes looked way overloaded with weight.
Logan ran down to the house and yelled for Madison. They both moved to the kitchen window just as the bikes stopped at the gate. The rider on the lead bike climbed off and started punching numbers into the gate keypad. He removed a full-face motorcycle helmet, which allowed Madison and Logan to see it was Lawrence. Logan sprinted down the hill, with Madison trailing behind at a slower pace.
Logan yelled out as he got closer to the gate, “Hey, Lawrence, keypad is out. I have to override it.”
Lawrence replied, “Hey, little brother.”
Logan was close enough to see his brother was wearing a military combat leg holster filled with his 9 mm Barretta 92FS. The FS was a civilian version of the M9 pistol Lawrence had carried as an Army Ranger. Richard and Dena Silva stopped the second three-wheeler behind the trailer and climbed off. Logan arrived at the gate and opened the metal control panel and used the new switch he had installed to open the gate. The motor hummed, and the gate swung open. Logan and Lawrence met as the gate opened and hugged each other. Richard and Dena moved up and hugged Logan. Lawrence and Dena both had on bulky, overstuffed backpacks. Richard was the only one of the three not wearing a backpack. Lawrence assumed this was a need for Dena to ride behind him on the small old ATV. Both of the bikes sat idling as the four chatted a moment before Madison arrived. Madison repeated hugs for each of the newcomers.
“Where did you get these antiquated three-wheelers?” Logan asked.
“Richard’s old neighbor had them since sometime in the eighties. He was the owner of some ATV company back then. I guess he did lots of racing on three-wheelers and buggies. But he is barely able to ride his little electric scooter now days, so he offered them to us. He told us he had no plan of bugging out. He had his 357-revolver strapped to his scooter and was just daring anyone to come take his stuff.”
Richard chimed in, “Yeah, that ornery old bastard will probably go down, but only after he reloads that revolver several times. He helped get these two running. He had two newer Yamaha 4-wheelers, but they would not start. Carburetors had plugged up from stale gas. These old Hondas just needed a shot of starting fluid and some air in the tires.”
Lawrence added, “Frank did not have any premix for these old two-strokes. None of the neighbors did either, so Frank convinced us that power steering fluid would work. We drained gas out of his Lincoln Navigator and mixed in power steering fluid, and here we are. They smoked a bunch but started running better and better as we went. The new gas and steering fluid must have cleaned out the carbs.”
Lawrence pointed at the tires and said, “Look at those tires. They have so many cracks we did not think they would make it here. They were so out of round they about shook our teeth out for the first few miles, but they eventually smoothed out. I just knew we would be walking sooner than later.”
Madison asked about the trailer.
“Frank also had that old garden wagon. It is actually a dump trailer. His ex-wife used it in the garden. But now that she is gone, I think Frank does not care much about trying to survive. We told him we would come back for him in the Mustang, but he said don’t bother. Said he ain’t leaving his house. Been there for forty-plus years. Told us he buried his wife’s ashes in the rose garden and is not leaving.”
“God rest the first people who try to rob or loot from old Frank.”
As the group stood talking, the second three-wheeler engine suddenly started running faster and then coughed and quit, producing a large cloud of white smoke. The group looked at each other and started laughing hysterically
Chapter 13
1710, Day 1, Sandy Valley, Nevada
Lee and Jake rode their borrowed bikes into Sandy Valley in the early evening. The sixteen-mile ride was uneventful although tiring because of numerous hills and valleys. Both men were dead tired after the long walk and two long rides. The rough terrain and the uncomfortable packs were taking their toll. Thankfully, the ride to Sandy Valley was all hard pavement. As they approached the town, Lee spotted the familiar steeple of a Mormon Church ahead, and after telling Jake on the radio, they rode toward it. Like the fire station in Goodsprings, this place also had refugees milling around although fewer because of its isolated location. It appeared the Mormons were the ones setting up the camp here, and again, like the Pioneer Saloon, tents, cots, and chairs abounded. Someone was using a barbecue to cook up what looked like beef, and people were lining up with paper plates for their turn at the food.
Lee pulled up first, followed closely by Jake, and they both got off and parked the bikes against the building. Then they started asking around for Joel, but he walked up and found them first.
“You guys must be Lee and Jake?” a medium-height balding middle-aged man said as he approached.
“We are. Are you Joel?” replied Jake.
“Yep, that’s me. So are you the two nuts from Vegas planning to ride bikes to Irwin?” asked Joel.
“Well, unless a yellow cab pulls up looking for fares, I guess that is our only choice,” Lee chimed in.
All three men laughed at Lee’s comment and shared handshakes.
Joel then said, “It is too bad that Lucy left for Irwin. She couldn’t find anyone to go with her. She was driving one of those four-seat VW power dune buggies. You guys could have ridden with her. I can tell you that sure would have made me feel a whole lot better. Having that stubborn woman heading out on her own has me worried. I did all I could to talk her out of it, but she insisted that Rick would be stuck at Irwin, and she wanted to be with him. She is a Class A gutsy woman.”
“Yeah, our experiences so far have not been great. I hope she stays alert and safe,” Jake said.
To which Lee added, “That’s an understatement.”
“She is tough,” said Joel. “At least she is packing. She took along a 1911 forty-five. She also took along some supplies. I just hope that old buggy gets her there.”
“Well, we are heading the same way, but it sure would be nice to be driving versus riding these motorless mopeds,” Lee said, pointing at the mountain bikes.
“Well, we will be in good shape after riding to Irwin across the mountains,” added Jake. “I just wish they had some kind of rack to hold our bags. Our shoulders will be a blistered mess when we get to Irwin. And Lee’s