“We’d better get to the house,” said Miller. “You can bring the van.”
“How?” said Max.
“Just drive behind me. It doesn’t look like there’s a path. But trust me, there is. It leads right to our driveway.”
“He’s been worried about something like this for years,” said Penny, Miller’s wife. “Everything is set up for the apocalypse. Even the nonexistent trick driveway.”
“I’m impressed,” said Max.
“Wait ‘til you get to the house,” said Miller, who started walking off.
Max and everyone else got back into the van. Georgia drove, taking the van slowly over the soft earth.
Miller walked quickly and purposefully ahead of them, Penny and their son trailing him. Husband and wife kept their shotguns at the ready, and from the passenger seat, Max noticed how they constantly scanned the surrounding area.
Finally, they came to the gravel driveway. By removing the portion that connected to the road, Miller had been able to hide the existence of their house more effectively.
Up ahead was Miller’s house.
At first glance, it looked like a normal house.
But when they parked and got out, it quickly became clear that there was much more to it.
It was a smallish two story house, with a partially exposed concrete basement. It looked like it had been built in the mid 1970s. Maybe it’d been cheaper to build them that way at that time for some reason.
A ditch had been dug around the exposed concrete walls of the basement, creating a deep, waterless moat around the house. It was clearly created for protection and defense. It was similar to what Max had envisioned. He’d wanted to dig a ditch around the property of the farmhouse, but this made more sense, now that he saw it.
The effect of the ditch was to create a greater distance between the ground and the second story. It’d make it almost impossible for someone to try to gain access to the second floor by jumping.
“That,” said Miller, pointing up to a strange-looking contraption. “Is my pride and joy.”
He smiled when he said it. He was proud of it. He’d likely built it himself.
“A drawbridge?” said Max.
“Don’t you know it. Come on, I’ll show you all how it works. It’s the only way into the house. And we’d better not stay out here too long anyway. We’ll get everyone inside, and then you and I can come out and put the van in the garage.”
He pointed to the garage. It was a squat structure, completely covered with all sorts of foliage, meant to function as camouflage. The disguise had worked well enough that Max hadn’t even noticed it. Then again, he was beyond tired.
Miller took them over to the drawbridge, which led to the second floor’s door.
“The only door to the basement’s been completely sealed off,” said Miller. There was true pride showing on his face.
A padlock secured a winch attached to the drawbridge. Miller unlocked it with a key taken from his pocket. This freed the mechanism of the manual winch, and Miller started winding it. The drawbridge slowly lowered.
It was more of a ladder than a real drawbridge. But it served its purpose, preventing easy access to the house.
Miller’s wife and child went first, and Miller gestured for everyone else to climb up. There was a small patio at the top, where the drawbridge was attached.
“Want me to help with that?” said Max, standing by the door, as Miller started winding the top-level winch, raising the drawbridge-ladder again.
“I’m good,” said Miller. “I like doing it, and you need to rest.”
Inside, the house was fairly small. It was only really four rooms, and there was hardly any walking space. Almost every space imaginable had been filled up with canned goods, ammunition, bottles of water, sacks of corn meal, rice, dried beans, all sorts of food stuffs. There were large plastic buckets with labels that held sugar. There was almost everything one could need.
“You’ve got everything!” said James, excitedly looking around.
“Can I lie down?” said Sadie.
Sadie went right to a small patch of blank floor and lay down, curling up. In a moment, she was asleep, snoring lightly, her hands tucked under her head.
With everyone inside the house, there was hardly any room.
While the house could technically fit all of them, Max knew that it wouldn’t work as a long-term solution. Having them all stay there indefinitely, that is. Not that he would ever ask Miller to stay. Miller had done the work to prepare, and Max wasn’t going to try to take that away from him. He recognized his own lack of preparation and he was ready to own it.
What was more, Max already had his doubts about whether Miller’s set up would actually work for them. Sure, it was set up better than the farmhouse. But, long term, there were all sorts of problems that could arise, especially if the area was going to become as overrun with stragglers and mercenary types as Max imagined it would.
And, plus, how strong could a padlock really be? A couple hits from an axe and it’d break right off, no matter how well it was made. Miller did seem like the type to take all that into account, and he probably figured that he’d be able to shoot the attacker from above. Sure, shooting from the second floor would provide a tremendous strategic advantage. But would it be enough, day in and day out?
Then again, Max really must have been tired, because he suddenly realized that the padlock was only for when the Millers were away. When they were at home, the ladder would be raised. And when they were away, what good would the padlock do?
Maybe they didn’t plan on leaving much. Putting up the roadblocks had been an emergency action, a rare necessity punctuating an otherwise home-bound life.
There were rifles on the walls, and as Miller moved, he revealed a revolver in a holster at his side. The Millers certainly weren’t messing around. They were prepared.
As Max should have been. Whatever deficiency possibly existed in Miller’s plan, they sure seemed better off than Max’s farmhouse group.
Everyone stood around somewhat awkwardly.
“Well,” said Miller, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get you all something to eat.”
He seemed to be enjoying the company.
Mrs. Miller headed into the kitchen, taking her young son in tow, to get something ready for the guests.
“I didn’t see a farm on your property,” said Max. “Did you work for someone else, or is it hidden?”
“A farmer?” said Miller, smiling. “You took me for a farmer.” He started laughing, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. “Can’t say I’ve ever farmed much. I’m a lawyer. Or was, I guess. Legal counsel won’t do anyone much good now that there’s no law.”
“Just the law of the strongest,” said Max.
Slowly, everyone was finding a place to sit down, resting their weary bodies. Georgia sat on a bucket, as did James. Chad slumped against a couch, looking like he’d pass out any moment. Mandy’s eyes, too, were slowly closing.
“I’m afraid I can’t offer you all much more than rice and beans, and some water,” said Mrs. Miller, appearing in the doorway to the living room. “Come into the kitchen and serve yourselves.”
That really woke everyone up. They practically scrambled to their feet to head into the kitchen, and Miller himself just laughed.
Even though he hadn’t yet eaten and rested, Max was feeling more relaxed. It felt good to be here, good to be safe.
But as soon as Max became aware that he was feeling that way, he got that edge of anxiety again. He knew well that it was that edge that had kept him on his toes, and had kept him alive. He couldn’t afford to lose it. Not now. Not when there were more and more people coming into the area.
“Come on,” Miller said to Max, slapping him on the back. “Let’s get that minivan into the garage. You can all spend the night here, if you can find space on the floor, that is.” He laughed, taking pleasure in the quantity of his preparations.