The Garden Club - James Gerard (ready to read books .TXT) 📗

was ripped off as soon as the cockpit was secured.  “It’s me.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“We crashed.”

 

“Crashed?”

 

“Don’t you remember?”

 

Hal lifted a hand to a spot on his forehead that was throbbing.  He felt the slick surface.

 

“There’s a big gash there,” said Ron.  “I found a first aid kit and cleaned it up and applied some skin sealer.”

 

“Where are we?”

 

“Somewhere in the desert I suppose.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“A little bit sore.  Nothing major.”

 

“Wow, does my head hurt,” moaned Hal.

 

Ron pulled a water bottle out of a pocket and from another a container of aspirin.  “Here you go.”

 

“What else did you find?”

 

“A bunch of useful stuff.  Did Kenneth tell you he was going to use this to go camping?”

 

“Camping?  No one goes camping anymore—there’s no place to do it.”

 

“Then explain why in storage bins in the back there were packed away ten gallons of water, a tent, sleeping bags, portable propane stove with extra canisters, cooking and eating utensils, water purification tablets and a water purification unit, canteens, backpacks, a bunch of pouches of ready to eat food and dehydrated foods among other stuff.”

 

“Strange,” Hal remarked.”

 

“If you think that’s strange, check this out.  The interior of this thing was designed as a living unit.  The seats fold down to form a bed.  There are blankets and pillows in another storage unit in the back.  Also, there’s electric cooking pots and pans and an electrical water purification unit.  And not only that there’s a bunch of boxes with thermostats, air masks and filters, contamination suits, a supply of glass vials and Petri dishes, there's an analysis device for identifying hazardous material too.”

 

“He heads the Meat Council for god’s sake Ron.”  A hand hit a lever and the back of the seat sprang upright.  “How long have I been out?”

 

“About eight hours.”

 

Hal looked at the lifeless instrument panels and their dark faces.  A finger tapped the touch pads but no system responded.  While he mulled over the procedures that might bring back the jet back to life long enough to see the location where they sat, the fog dampening the reality of the situation lifted from the mind enough to see what was of more importance was the objective ahead.  “We need to find a place of safety.”

 

“We’ll have to walk then.”

 

“We’re not walking Ron.”

 

“Well, if you’re thinking about flying this thing, think again.”  Ron handed him a pair of goggles and mask and motioned Hal to step outside.

 

“Oh wonderful,” whispered Hal as dust and sand whipped up by a hot wind pelted his body.

 

“Apparently we landed in the middle of a big sand storm last night,” shouted Ron.  “It not only buried this side of the jet, but poking around it’s all inside the engine.  That’s not good is it?”

 

“No Ron,” Hal shouted above the howling wind, “that is definitely not good.”

 

“Do you think we can dig out of this?”

 

“Even if we did, it would be no good.  The power’s out.”  Hal walked around the nose to the other wing still visible above the shifting bed of sand.  “I don’t see any other damage.  Did you do any digging yet?”

 

“A little bit, but the wind….”

 

“You didn’t feel any jagged edges, see any discoloration?”

 

“If there is, it’s underneath.  But I don’t think any missile hit us.”

 

“Why do you think that?”

 

“Well, think about it, if we were hit it would’ve blown us to bits.”

 

Hal thought about that.  If the corporate powers had indeed hid away an arsenal of military craft and the advanced weaponry of the time, then such a slow and vulnerable target as Kenneth’s personal jet certainly would have been blown to bits.  “Maybe it just grazed us,” Hal reasoned.

 

“Then why haven’t they pursued us?   They could’ve found us easy by now.”

 

“We’re in the middle of a sand storm.  Maybe they couldn’t track us.  Or maybe they’re searching in some other area.”

 

“They’re not after us,” shouted Ron.  “They never were.”

 

“Then how do you explain the activity at the park?”

 

“Oh come on,” shouted Ron.  “You’re questioning what the Board of Realtors did?  They had to have known of the decision beforehand that they didn’t get the park.  You know how they think.  Once they took possession of the land by force, they knew there would be no one to question them or to stand in their way.

 

“No Ron, you’re wrong.”

 

“Oh for heaven’s sake already.  Can’t you see your moron of a brother was just messing with your head?”

 

“But I heard the sirens.  They were coming for me.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“They’re after us Ron.”

 

“Then where are they?”

 

“Look,” shouted Hal, “I have no doubt we were framed.  I’m not imagining this.  They are after us.”  He ducked under the exposed wing.  “Look at this,” he shouted.

 

Ron came walking up and fell to his knees.

 

“I’m not imagining any of this; bullet holes.  The Board of Realtors just don’t order their security force to start shooting at anybody.”

 

Ron poked a finger through the holes.  “I don’t know.  How can you be so sure we were framed?”

 

“Hello…Kenneth…my evil brother.”

 

“Okay then,” said Ron, “suppose you’re right.  What do we do now?”

 

“We gather all the supplies we can carry and get out of here before they show.”

 

“I suppose you’re right.”

 

Hal looked up to the sky.  He peered over the faint glow of the sun shining through the haze of the cloud of dust being whipped around.  “Hopefully this storm breaks soon.  Let’s get back inside.”

 

“You think we should sit it out till then?” asked Ron as the hood came off.

 

“There should be…” Hal uttered while combing through the contents of one of the backpacks, “Kenneth by no means has the slightest sense of adventure in him, but he tends to be very thorough.  Aha, just what we need.”

 

A compass was pulled out from its sleeve.  Hal looked at the arrow pointing north.   “We were on a southeasterly course when we crashed,” he looked around and pointed to the left, “therefore, I say it’s a safe bet if we walk towards the east.”  Hal groped the pockets in front of the backpack and found what he was looking for.  “Here,” he pointed on the map and glided a finger over to the body of water, “we head east and eventually run into the Persian Gulf.”

 

Ron looked at the map.  “You think we can go to Qatar and get in on some cleanup work?”

 

“Give it up already Ron.  You have to start facing reality.  All of what you have heard are just rumors.  There’s no restoration work going on.  You realize that sand blowing in our faces is probably loaded with every chemical, biological, and radioactive toxin imaginable?  And oh yeah, we’ll be lucky if we make it.  This entire area is loaded with land mines.”

 

Hal listened intently as Ron aggressively attacked the very idea that all the talk of restoration work had been just that—talk.  He believed Ron was still under the old spell of the government rhetoric.  It had begun with a worldwide campaign claiming all the alternative materials and methods used in providing the needs of the world had commenced and was making some progress in eliminating and restricting any pollution deemed to toxic to the population.

 

While most people could have cared less about the assurances that government’s way was the only way, Ron certainly had fallen for the idea that nature was not the barrier to the common good of the earth’s health, but the dangers stemmed from many who demanded the means to eke out a living.  And even though Ron had witnessed the policies and regulations and laws and restrictions falter, he was stubborn in his stance.   He had even heard the accounts of nations bickering at one another as they aggressively sought out the very resources for such new and innovative technologies, yet stubbornness still muted his senses.

 

And how stubborn he is, concluded Hal.  When people cried out over energy, water, and food restrictions which were so-called policies implemented with the intent to alleviate the overall suffering, Ron stood firm.  Hal remembered being stunned when Ron simply refused to acknowledge the further suffering that it created.  As strange as it seemed, Ron saw the benevolent outcome the policy was to bring about.  Ron had even refused, just before the hostilities heightened between the world’s nations, to join the protest calling for the foregoing all the political posturing and return to a time when government actually served for the good of the citizens. 

 

“Hey,” shouted Ron, “I said ‘then lucky for us Kenneth packed some contamination suits.’”

 

“And the mines?”

 

“We just have to risk it.”

 

“We’ll never make it in this heat.”

 

 “We’ll walk at night.”

 

“And use what as a guide?”

 

“We’ll have to rely on the compass.”

 

Hal looked to the hazy sky while listening for sounds rumbling from above or within the cloud of dust and sand.  He preferred to travel under clear conditions to see paths that were less strenuous on the legs and to spy out need be hiding places in the event a search party was seen on approach with the intent of a seek out and destroy mission, but he could not be sure as to when the dust storm would break.

 

“How do we….”

 

“Carry the supplies?  We’ll rig up something to act as a sled and drag everything we need.”

 

“After sunset?”

 

“After sunset.”

 

A Strange New World

 Through gaps cut between foothills and over the hills when Hal felt it necessary to stay true to the easterly course, legs powered the forward momentum while dragging the makeshift sled under the open sky.  And while the contamination suit provided warmth in the frigid desert air, Hal knew the struggle was not about keeping warm, but to keep up with Ron’s steady pace.  Worse, he reasoned, will be running into any sand dunes.

 

The frantic pace had been enough to weaken the strength of the legs with each step sinking into the loose carpet of sand, but the one hundred pounds or so of essential supplies being dragged along on the sled added shooting pain to the back and shoulders.  But knowing Ron, Hal was reluctant to ask for a rest break for fear of a tongue lashing for being out of shape.

 

Hal had long surrendered to a lazy life.  It was not that he had sought it, but it had to do with the restrictions placed by the Governor on foregoing the work to vigorously maintain the park’s miles of trails.  If it were not for such restrictions, he would look like the lean silhouette of his friend just ahead and not the overweight blob he had become.  No, he reasoned, don’t complain.  Come on, just keep plodding along until making it to the next water break.

 

The cool night air that once blew furiously from a northwesterly direction, showering them with a steady stream of dust and sand, now howled with a numbing cold.  If it were not for the airtight contamination suits, it might have been the bitter cold that killed them and not the deadly toxins.  At the same time he was well aware that the suit too created a danger.  It held in the heat so well as to make the body sweat excessively and the muscles, already aching, cramp up.

 

Unable to withstand the unbearable heat and pain and unwilling to take another step, Hal picked up a small pebble and flung in the direction of Ron.  With arms flailing he shouted “stop.”

 

Ron flashed a signal by opening and closing the hands three times to indicate the next break.

 

Hal shouted