Duncan still seemed to try to mentally help her carry her pack over. And even after Darlene had tossed her gear into the car, he stood there as if he could get the door for her. It was a gull wing door that he had already opened. He still seemed to insist on closing it for her. Perhaps he was just being polite. He did measure most of his words. He offered a warning to avoid bumping her on the head or side before closing the door. Then he jogged around and hopped in. There was a boyish smile on his face that was priceless.

Duncan had one of those faces that spent far too much time being serious. When he smiled his eyes would fill with energy. They practically blazed. They were doing that now as he looked over and practically leered. Then he paused, stiffened and slowed himself down becoming serious. He had been about to show off. Slowly he forced his body to relax a little.

Then he put the car in gear and started forward. The car went all of about 30 feet, sputtered and died. He looked confused. He shut the car down and tried to restart. Nothing. Again. Nothing. He made a growling noise. He looked over at Darlene. Uhm …” He was clearly embarrassed. He cleared his throat and looked thoughtful. “I can’t be out of fuel. No way. Well … unless something popped loose and there was a leak. Excuse me.”

He got out, clearly looking frustrated. He fiddled with things, but mainly he just inspected for a leak. He was more than a little disappointed to find none. That meant he had no clue what was wrong. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had probably done something when he gunned the engine to get to Darlene faster. He dropped the hood looking grim and got back in.

“Well, it’s a hybrid. Should have enough power to get back to my base - one of them. I sort of have one main base - a place that I am starting to build up. But I will probably move closer to the Rio Grande. That won’t be until Spring though. I got back too late to start up any real crops. The place I have is stocked for getting me - us if you like - through the winter. And there is a garage there with a backup generator - one of those big military ones. I set up at the base motor pool. 

“I actually have more than one ‘base’. I have a spot set up at the University - not the medical center. You don’t want to go anywhere near there. My Mom worked there. Foster Mom. My real mother died before the Plague.” His face hardened, he shook his head slightly as if it would make bad memories go away. “I also have a warehouse I am setting up - good reinforced concrete design, docks, offices, forklifts - propane and electric … and eventually a military generator. The truck stop where I-25 crosses had a backup diesel generator. I got it going and every now and then I run it to keep a walk in freezer cool. I plan to replace that eventually. But I cleaned it out and am keeping a couple deer in there. I am hoping they don’t thaw in between visits. I need to get a small freezer. I know where two are, but I haven’t decided how to move them - and they are filled with spoiled meat and vegetables.

“Really I am too spread out. That is what the ranch by the river will replace next Spring. The downside will be the loss of the base Motor Pool. It will still be there, but again still a drive to get there.” He sighed. Just talking about his plans made him tired.

The McLaren had an electric backup. Its top speed under all pure electric was 78 mph. And had a 50 km range. He was already looking worried by the time they got to the motor pool base. He pulled the car over by a child’s playhouse. He got out and opened the door for Darlene. Then he walk over to the playhouse and reached in, pulling out cables and stretching them to the car. Then he went back and cranked up the generator inside the playhouse. He was using the playhouse to suppress the noise. Then he hooked up the car to recharge.

“I have solar, but haven’t set it up yet.  Well, I suppose I should give you the grand tour.”

For a 16 year old male, Duncan was almost obscenely organized. Oh his place was cluttered, but it was clearly organized. He started with the garage. Power was out - until he cranked up the main generator. But the playhouses he had filled with generators were hooked to LOTS of marine grade car batteries. So he had enough lighting to work with. He had a number of construction solar panels he had collected from the side of the road. They also offered light.

His kitchen and pantry were well stocked. He had multiple cabinets and book shelves filled with food, all organized with an OCD level of order. Canned hams, canned vegetables, canned fruit, fruit in plastic, sugar in tubes, honey, dry cereals, powdered milk, pet milk. He had a whole short truck filled with 20 gallon jugs of drinking water. Some of his supplies were still on pallets. He had Coleman stoves, a propane grill. There was a port-a-potty available - with a whole pallet of toilet paper.

Not merely organized, but industrious. He didn’t think small. He could take care of himself and maybe a dozen or more people through the winter easily.

There were other vehicles.  The ones that seemed to get the most use were a NM state patrol SUV K9 unit and an F350 pickup rigged with racks, extra fuel tank and pump and aluminum storage boxes.  It was probably one used by a small construction crew.   There was also a burnt cinnamon lamborghini veneno, a military mobile command post, a tow truck, military humvees, golf carts.

“I have more cars - diesel.  And I took care of them.  I’ll let you pick one out and set you up with a go bag.  The go bag isn’t a hint.  It is a safety thing.  I cleared out most of the big predators around here.  But now and then I get a mountain lion straying in.  Plus there are packs of wild dogs in the NE Heights area.  I used to live up there.  You can have the Lambo, but I don’t recommend it.  Gas powered means that odds are the fuel lines are a mess.  I can TRY to fix it, but I’m not the greatest mechanic.  Diesel lasts longer - about a year.”

There was also another kennel like pen with another child’s playhouse set up on it.  Bleating at the edge of the pen was a baby goat.  There was a kids soccer ball in the pen with it.  It started pushing the ball around with its head almost as soon as they arrived.

“Oh yeah, we have a kid,” he chuckled at the joke and walked over to pet the goat.  “His name is Pele, world’s greatest soccer playing goat.  He’s a natural.  He made a fist and raised it in the direction of the goat.  The goat reared up and butted the fist with his head.  “He’s probably starving.  Still not weaned.  My guess is his nanny fell victim to a big cat.  I also have a small farm.  That I have got to get to later today.  Not much of a farm, but I am doing my best to keep the animals alive.”

Then he took her into the 5th wheel RV he had parked next to the garage. “This thing was designed for extreme cold weather - far worse than anything we’ll see around here. 5.5 kW LP generator. LP doesn’t go bad. Washer, dryer, stove, oven, full bath - and … the water is heated.” He blushed at that as the bathroom he was indicating was beyond the bedroom - in which there was a king sized bed - unmade. It was the first sign that Duncan didn’t manage perfect upkeep. In fact he had let the RV go a little. There were books here and there, DVD’s, CD’s near the big screen. There were stacks of notebooks and lab books near a few laptops on the dining room table. There was a soccer ball, an electric and an acoustic guitar, and a professional keyboard.  And there was a crate full of ammunition and a few assault rifles, plus a case of grenades and a dozen rocket launchers.

THIS was Duncan’s base. This was where he called home.