Free Dark Coup by David C. Waldron Page B

could do or provide that would help his friends on their journey.
    Joel let out a breath and decided on the latter.  “Do you need anything from me before you go?”
    Eric and Kyle looked at each other with a bit of surprise at Joel’s reaction.
    “I’m serious,” Joel said.  “I’m not going to go running to Mallory, or anyone else for that matter.  If they haven’t figured out that something is up then it’s their loss, and frankly,” Joel looked at Kyle when he said the next bit, “their lack of situational awareness is no skin off my nose.”
    Kyle grinned, but didn’t say anything.
    “Back to my question,” Joel said.  “Do you need anything before you go?”
    “Before we go, maybe some extra MREs but that really isn’t something you can get us,” Eric said.  “I’m going to see what I can do.  Long-term, though, there might be something you can do.”
    “Name it,” Joel said.
    “Sandbags,” Eric said, “empty sandbags.”
    Joel made a questioning face, but said okay.
    “Long-term,” Kyle said, “we aren’t going to live in a tent.  We may build a cabin, ultimately, but we may not.  One of the things we were thinking of trying was building a house that is half underground, half above-ground.  The above-ground portion is made of dirtbags, or sandbags, filled with the dirt from the excavated below-ground portion.”
    “The bags are a great insulator,” Eric continued, “and with enough people, you can literally build one in a day, depending on the type of soil.  It’s a bit like an igloo shape for the upper walls and ceiling.  You have to scout the area and make sure you aren’t in a flood plain, of course, and check the water table–things like that–but they can last for years depending on the type of bag you use.  Our sandbags are UV-resistant, so if this works out we shouldn’t even need to stucco the outside of the first couple.”
    Joel had been all ears once he’d gotten the gist of the design.  “Deal,” Joel said.  “On one condition, you have to stay close enough that in case of a dire emergency, yours or ours, we can contact each other.  I’d also like to know how well the ‘dirtbag house’ works out.”
    Kyle groaned.  “Nice legacy,” he said, “the dirtbag house.”
    “Can it, Ramirez,” Eric and Joel said in unison.
    “Right,” Kyle said.
    …
    June 12, 2013 - I-40 - Approaching the Entrance to Natchez Trace State Park, Tennessee
    Driving down the freeway, Ben’s first reaction was shock, followed by confusion, and then disbelief.
    They were approaching Promised Land, located inside Natchez Trace State Park, from the west on I-40.  In the southbound lanes, lined up and evenly spaced, were about thirty Black Hawk helicopters—at least three full battalions. “Promised Land,” Ben said, “this is the fifth little pig.  What. have. you. done?”
    “Me,” Mallory said, the relief obvious in her voice.  “I didn’t do anything.  In fact, I didn’t even say anything at first; they came in here on their own looking for a place to land.  Said something about illegal orders, fulfilling their Oath, and defending The Constitution.”
    Ben was trying not to smile and failing miserably.  “I assume they were painted the whole time,” he said.
    Mallory laughed.  “Of course, and if they had a problem with that they kept it to themselves,” she said.  “The flight commander just requested that nobody have an itchy trigger finger.  I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
    …
    “That’s quite the convoy you have there,” Mallory said as she looked over the assortment of vehicles Ben had assembled.  Her words were muffled, somewhat, by the disposable surgical mask she was wearing to keep Ben’s people safe.  They had pulled through the park, skirted camp, and were now parked in a relatively flat area they had finished clearing where a forest fire had occurred a couple of years ago.
    “Is this everyone from the final defense of