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| The New America, Chapter 3 |
He spent the weekend playing with his "babies". He knew he would probably never see them again. Four 1972 Chevy Big Block pick up trucks, each in a different stage of restoration. Realizing the now pointless process, he just randomly wiped, remembered, and thought about each lovingly applied piece of himself that he had invested.
Also in the same barn, were three hollowed out rafters, containing the guns and ammunition he would need for the next stage of his journey through life.
He had parked his Mack across Interstate 75 just south of Toledo just 2 weeks prior, and walked the 65 miles home. Three days of rambling along and watching the world go to hell. No sense in hitching, the traffic was backed up and overflowed onto the back roads, and everyone was suspicious of everyone else.
As he cleaned and oiled the weapons, making sure there were 2 extra magazines full of ammunition with each, he hid them in the pre-built access spots on the runner, a 1985 Chevy 4X4 pickup that appeared stock from the first glance. It had come from the factory as a diesel powered machine, but had been swapped with a 402 Big Block from one of the "babies", and a 4 speed car transmission, since the need for speed would probably be needed more than the off road ability. A divorced transfer case and a pair of 12 bolts with a rear locker made for a total package to be able to get "there" quickly and efficiently. An Auxiliary fuel tank gave it the range, since stopping for gas would be a bad idea of the first order.
He went through his preparations in his mind yet again, a holdover from his Marine training, making sure that everything that could be covered was covered. Mel knew the value of the trucks, and the value of the tools that he was going to be leaving, as well as the camper he had been living in behind the barn. She could sell it all and make a bit of money to hold her over. An extra ATM card from his bank would be arriving next week, and he made sure she had the PIN for that, since by the time she got that, he wouldn't need it, one way or the other, and she could have whatever was left. He made sure that any evidence of the guns or ammo was removed, so she wouldn't get in any trouble in case the government men came in to do a spot search. 6 years of busting his ass on this farm every time he had a day off sure hadn't left him with much, so he got in his truck and headed east.
His intention was to cross over into Pennsylvania, and follow the mountains south until he found the "resistance", or at least a band that seemed to know what they were doing. Probably into Virginia, near the VA/NC/TN area. Lots of wild country there and lots of places to run some operations from. He had thrown a couple of hay bails on the fuel tank in the bed of the truck, so it looked like he was just some farmer John going out to feed the cows. Every time a police car would come into view, he just pulled into a field road or an old farm that he was passing. Wait for it to pass and pull back out. He stayed off of the main highways and interstates, although some of the were pretty clear, to avoid attracting any undue attention.
Things were going smooth, until he crossed into Pennslyvania.
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