We were leaving Ontario, Canada, it was dusk, very warm outside; Seventy-five degrees, low humidity, looking for a place to park for the night.

  “What do you suppose that is?” Jillian asked pointing to a dim light high on the top of a mountain ridge. It blinked out just as I observed it.

  “Faulty wiring from solar?” Winds are probably strong up there.” I said. Jillian got out of her chair and the dogs immediately took her place to stick their noses out the open window. She opened her maps and started leafing through them.

  “Pull over! What time is it?” She asked.

  “8:40” I responded. “We really…” I started to say as she interrupted me with a “Shhh!” Holding up her index finger. Ginger and Pete looked at me as if to say “You better be quiet.” I pulled over and went outside and lit a cigar. Ginger and Pete nosed around and relieved themselves. It was getting darker by the minute.

  “I think I got it! Here, take a look.” Jillian yelled from inside the R/V. Jillian showed me the location, then showed me a topographic map of the mountain ridge.

  “I’m pretty sure that location does not exist on these maps. Let’s see how close we can get!” She said. Her excitement and energy were irresistible. “Ok” I said. I called off the mile markers as she plotted the course on the maps on the table. She told me the exit, when to turn and the percentage of grade on the road. At 9:32 she moved the dogs off the chair.

  “This road should take us there. It’s not on any map!” Jillian said looking out the window intently. It was dark as we ascended a very steep overgrown road with a lot of debris. We reached the top and it was a dead end. A single car was parked. It has been here a while, leaves, branches and dirt covered it. Jillian looked at me and said “Come on, you know you want to investigate!”

  I parked the R/V on a level area of the road and secured it. We geared up; headlamps, 45, AA-12 and Jillian with her favorite purple crossbow. She looked very sexy with her crossbow by the way.

  “Safety’s on.” I said. We double checked. Ginger and Pete were excited but holding steady and waiting for my commands. As we got to the front of the parked car, we noticed it was used to breach a gate. I looked inside the car. It was a late model sedan, driver side window down, passenger side up. Pack of Newport’s on the seat. Nothing in the back seat, keys in the ignition.

  “Hostile intent? He didn’t make it back.” I said.

  “Maybe it was a ‘she.” Jillian added. The driveway seemed long and the house was not visible.

  “High risk.” I said.

  “Shit! You’re right, first thing in the morning?” Jillian asked.

  “Before breakfast.” I said.

  We sat outside and enjoyed the warm breeze drinking some Canadian wine. We were discussing the possible fate of the occupants in the house and the parked car in a macabre game. I outlined my explanation, Jillian outlined hers.

  “The winner gets a car. If I win; a Jaguar.” I said.

  “If I win, I want a Ferrari.” Jillian said rather quickly.

  “Do you know how to drive a stick?” I asked.

  “It’s been a few years, it’s what I learned on to get my driver’s license.” Jillian said.

  “You took your driver’s test in a Ferrari?” I asked, a little taken aback. Jillian said nothing and just smiled.

  I woke up to the smell of coffee, Jillian was packing the dog’s packs with tools; wire cutters, pliers, screwdrivers, extra batteries, headlamps and snacks.

  “Sunrise in thirty minutes!” Jillian said as she was all packed up ready to go.

  “Give me a minute, damn woman!” I said as she handed me a cup of coffee laughing a little and in good spirits. A heavy fog was present and a little cool. Ginger and Pete were geared up and ready to go. Disposition set on ‘exploration’ mode.

  “Radios on and open. Locked and loaded. Safety’s on, Jaguar coming my way.” I said softly.

  “I don’t think so.” Jillian said shaking her head.

  “British Racing green.” I said.

  “No, no, no! I get to pick the color.” Jillian said. I shrugged my shoulders.

  The air was heavy, quiet and still. Only our footsteps could be heard. Ginger and Pete sniffing, from the ground to the air and back again walking right beside us as we passed the car with the broken gate that penetrated the radiator.

  “Fixed surveillance cameras, there and there.” I said quietly and pointing up.

  “Something does not feel right.” I said as a breath without thinking. I stopped for a moment.

  “Stay back. Twenty yards with the dogs.” I said as I walked slowly and did a quick radio check and adjusted the volume.

  “Look for small reflectors, on a post or a tree, ten to twenty feet on either side of the driveway.” I whispered.

  “How are the dog’s doing?” I asked quietly.

  “Poised and focused, ears trying to pick up sounds, noses mostly facing north.” Jillian said quietly.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Honestly, a little damp.” Jillian said in a serious tone.

  “Stay focused please.” I said.

  “Sorry.” Jillian replied.

  I rounded two sweeping corners and the house was in sight. It was like something out of a black and white 1950’s movie set. “Holy Shit.” I whispered.

  “What?” Jillian asked.

  “I think you found our summer home.” I said as Jillian quickly said “Reflector, left side, fifteen feet in.”

  “My safety is now off.” I said. I proceeded slowly toward a small building near the house. I assumed was the light source we saw yesterday.

  “Summer home? Looks more like a hotel.” Jillian said.

  “This is no hotel.” I whispered quietly. I looked in a window on the building.

  “Drop your weapon!” I heard a man say from behind me.

  “Drop your weapon, now!” The muffled voice repeated. I placed the AA-12 against the building and raised my hands.

  “Turn around.” The voice commanded. I turned to face a man in a level 1,000 hazmat suit with a military style weapon I did not recognize.

  “Good morning.” I said cheerfully with a slight smile.

  “Tell the girl to come out or I will kill you right where you stand.” The man said in a dull tone.

  “You’re not going to shoot me.” I said in a similar dull tone.

  “What makes you so sure?” The man asked.

  “Well, I am unarmed and I pose no threat.” I said. He did not respond.

  “What are you protecting?” I asked.

  “None of your fucking business!” The man said in a hostile manner.

  “So, there is another here. Hmmm, tell whoever else is here to come out so we all can talk.” I asked politely.

  “What do you want to talk about?” said another man appearing from the corner of the building wearing a similar hazmat suit with no weapon.

  “Good morning!” I said again with a slight smile.

  “I would feel more comfortable if he stopped pointing that weapon at me.” I said to the man.

  “You are in no position to give orders.” The man responded.

  “Oh, make no mistake, I’m not giving orders, I’m asking politely. Please, stop pointing that weapon at me, you are making us nervous. Nice place you have here.” I said stepping back a little looking at the extensive power supply and cabling.

  “Don’t fucking move.” The man with the weapon said. I looked at him, smiled and kept walking slowly, strategically positioning myself so the cavalry would not be noticed.

  “See, here is how this is going to play out; you are going to lower your weapon, and you are going to tell me why you killed the owner and took up residence here.” I said quietly with authority.

  “I don’t think so.” Said the man coldly without a weapon.

  “Sweetheart?” I said in the radio.

  “Yes?” said Jillian musically.

  “You know you only have to put a hole in their suit, right?” I asked.

  “I’m having a hard time choosing who is going to be first, sweetie.” Jillian said sarcastically.

  “I think we know who is going to be first.” I whispered to the both of them, giving a wink and a smile to the man with the weapon. The man lowered his weapon. Just then Ginger appeared, teeth barred, low thunderous growling and fur standing on end. Then I noticed Pete sitting behind Mr. no weapon. No teeth, no growling, ice cold blank eyes, like a statue. For some reason Pete was way more intimidating than Ginger.

  “Are the dogs in position?” Jillian asked quietly over the radio.

  “Yes. Yes, they are. Sweetheart? Did you forget to feed them this morning?” I asked.

  “I thought you fed them. They must be very hungry.” Jillian said sarcastically again. I gestured to the man with the weapon to hand it over.

  “What are you doing!” Mr. no weapon exclaimed in an increasing tone as I received the weapon and inspected it for a moment.

  “Don’t move.” I said calmly. “Don’t fucking move a muscle.” I said slowly as Pete stood up and his lip starting to curl revealing just a glimpse of his pearly white teeth, thanks to Jillian.

  “Do you know who I am!” The man yelled.

  “No, I do not, and please lower your voice.” I said. “What is your name?” I asked.

  “Brigadier…” I held up my hand and pointed the weapon at him. “First name, only.” I said lowering the weapon.

  “Christopher”. The man said emasculated.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “…and you?” I asked looking at the man I disarmed and not pointing the weapon at him.

  “Thomas, Tom.” He responded.

  “See, now we are getting friendly. Do either of you know what’s out there?” I asked pointing the weapon out over the valley. They looked at each other.

  “You don’t, do you?” I asked but received no response.

  “Tom, please tell me what Chris told you, or promised you.” I asked as Chris gave Tom a piercing look and shook his head with an almost imperceptible; ‘no’ as I gestured with the weapon, they stood with their backs against the building, I said into the radio: “Sweetheart?”

  “Yes, sugar buns?” Jillian responded.

  “Could you…’Sugar buns’… really? Now? Could you please get Tom to talk to us?” I asked. Immediately a bolt appeared right between the men’s heads in a loud thud as it buried into the cement wall. Jillian stood up loading another bolt not more than twenty feet from us.

  “Good morning.” Jillian said musically, smiling and aiming her crossbow at their heads.

  “No substitute for titanium.” Jillian said to no one in particular. Jillian stood next to me and the dogs on either side of us. Ginger growling low and Pete looking straight at them; chest heaving, breathing heavy through his flaring nostrils.

  “Tom?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

  “The virus was supposed to last only two weeks. Infrastructure fell like dominoes, we lost contact after three weeks. We have been here ever since.” Tom said reluctantly.

  “Why do you still wear Hazmat suits?” I asked.

  “Virus levels are not dropping as fast as anticipated.” Tom said, his tone increasing. “Based on my, our calculations, the virus will be active for another six maybe seven years.” Tom said.

  “That’s pure speculation! We have scientists working on the vaccine as we speak.” Chris said with confidence. I looked at Jillian and she looked at me and chortled.

  “You survived! I bet a lot of people survived!” Chris said, trying to be convincing.

  “It has been over a year and I have traveled most of the states and Canada and I have only seen one person, and here she is.” I said not buying any of Chris’ dialog.

  “How much food and fresh water do you have here?” I asked.

  “Plenty!” said Chris arrogantly.

  “Tom?” Jillian asked.

  “About six months.” Tom responded truthfully as Chris’ temper flared up in a series of loud curses, alerting the dogs.

  “You better settle down right now.” I said calmly to Chris.

  “YOU DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” Chris yelled and poked my chest with his finger. Pete launched first at his outstretched arm. All of us heard the crunch. Ginger grabbed his leg. Only about ten seconds expired when I stepped back and told Tom not to move or make eye contact with the dogs.

  “GINGER! PETE! COME!” I said loudly. Chris lay on the ground, hazmat suit compromised in many places.

  “My arm is broke! My…My SUIT!” He said panicking, cradling his arm. I held on to the dogs as they tried to settle down.

  “I have to get inside! I have to get inside!” Chris cried as he got to his feet.

  “I don’t think so.” Tom said pointing a pistol he obviously was concealing to Chris’s head.

  “What are you doing! Shoot them! Shoot them!” Chris pleaded. Tom looked at Jillian then he looked at me, then at the dogs, then back at Chris. Chris’ face obscured by a light haze that formed on the inside of his face mask holding his arm.

  “Hold this, please.” Tom said, handing the pistol to Jillian. Tom closed his eyes and took a final breath. He took off his hood, and then took another breath of fresh cool morning Canadian air.

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” Chris said almost crying.

  “I would rather take a chance and spend my last days with these people than spend another minute with you.” Tom said confidently with his choice. Tom took another deep breath.

  “God, does that smell good!” Tom said closing his eyes and breathing in and out.

  “YOU’RE DEAD! YOU’RE DEAD! Chris said highly agitated in a piercing voice. Tom asked for his pistol back. Jillian looked at me and handed it over to Tom. Tom pointed the pistol at Chris and told him to take off his suit and smell the air. Chris yelled “NO! NO WAY! “

  “You, are already dead.” I said to Chris as I motioned to Jillian to leave this matter to the two of them.

  Jillian, the dogs and I, strolled the perimeter of the complex. Architecture very opulent and sophisticated. After about ten minutes, Tom appeared around the corner on the opposite side of the complex, standing naked as the day he was born. Arms out stretched, feeling the morning sun on his skin and a big beaming smile. Ginger and Pete started wagging their tails looking like they were ready to play. Tom clapped his hands and started running and they took off after him barking and playing tag and having fun.

  They knocked him to the ground and sniffed and kissed him. Ginger or Pete must have stepped on his nuts as he yelled out and doubled over laughing out loud. Jillian and I walked over to him lying in the morning dew covered grass making a snow angel.

  “This feels so good!” Tom said.

  “I could watch this all day.” Jillian said with her crossbow on her shoulder.

  “What fate became of Chris?” I asked Tom.

  “I put him in the bunker with a gun and tossed him one bullet as I locked the door behind me.” Tom said out of breath. “Let’s get some breakfast.” I said as I helped Tom to his feet.

  Tom was a strapping young man. Twenty-four, maybe twenty-five years old. Powerfully built, six-foot-tall, high cheekbones, military haircut. Jillian walked behind us as we walked back to the R/V along the winding driveway as Tom pointed out all the security features.

  “You triggered two alarms as you drove up the hill; pressure pads. We watched you while you were drinking wine and talking last night.” Tom said.

  “You could hear us talking?” I asked.

  “No, not really, mostly just mumbling.” Tom said.

  “That AA-12 is bad-ass, can I shoot it?” Tom asked with a smile.

  “Not naked! That’s just plain wrong!” I said. Tom laughed and said “Affirmative.”

  As we approached the R/V the dogs welcomed our new friend. Tom asked if he could take a quick shower. “Sure, I guess.” I said confused.

  “Between the bolt seven inches from my head and the dogs taking offensive positions, I pissed in my shoes. Especially the one with the big friggin head.” Tom said with a crooked smile.

  “Oh! Pete?” I said as Pete heard his name and looked toward me panting and wagging his tail happy there is someone else to pet him.

  “How did you get him to sit and stare! That is really spooky!” Tom said petting and inspecting Pete’s huge head.

  “That’s just his thing to do, I guess.” I said as I pointed toward the shower. I started breakfast and Jillian pulled out maps of the area for Tom to review. Tom was a wealth of information.

  “I can show you the control room later. The entire time we have spent here the only things we saw by the motion sensors was a small mouse or mole, just one. It records everything and sends it to a satellite. But that link was broken three weeks in.” Tom said.

  “Who’s on the other end of the link?” I asked.

  “Unknown, I was told to ‘follow orders and ask no questions.’ Your family will be safe.” Tom said in a military tone.

  After breakfast, Tom showed us how everything worked. Industrial and military generators, solar power, water filtration, reclaim, the list goes on and on. I took as many notes and pictures as possible.

  “I have never turned on all the power for the risk of being seen; by the way how did you find this place?” Tom asked.

  “We saw a light from the highway, about 8:45 last night.” Jillian said.

  “That was me. I turned on the light for about five minutes to change out a filter.” Tom said. After we toured the control room and I verified all the power requirements, preventive maintenance and the library of procedures, we walked to the main compound.

  “If you plan on staying here, you should be good for about three years. Then you will need fresh diesel, unless you go all green, then it’s just maintenance. These systems were engineered to utilize common household…” Tom was interrupted by Jillian.

  “Who used to live here?” Jillian asked looking at the overgrown landscaping and the Gothic architectural design.

  “A man that was originally involved, then, dispatched prior to our arrival.” Tom said reluctantly.

  “And his family and staff?” Jillian asked.

  “Unknown.” Tom said. “The compound was empty when we arrived. I only went through it initially to perform a sweep of the area. This is the first time I’ve been back. Everything we needed was in the bunker. “I unlocked the doors from the control room.” Tom said opening the huge front door.

  It was like walking into a private museum, each room had its own distinct character of furniture, woodwork and lighting. We took the elevator to the top floor and worked our way down. Each room and floor were absolutely breathtaking, we did not want to touch anything for fear of breaking it.

  Jillian wanted to see the kitchen. It was like a small restaurant. Three or four massive stoves and ovens and two refrigerators. Both were on, we could hear them gently humming. Jillian grabbed the handle and looked at Tom. He shrugged his shoulders. Jillian opened the door and we were consumed by the overwhelming stench of milk, vegetables and fruit gone bad long ago. She quickly closed the door. She walked over to a walk-in freezer and grabbed the large chrome handle and looked at Tom and I.

  “It should be functional.” Tom said smiling.

  As Jillian opened the door, she was consumed by a frozen vapor cloud. We all looked in at the same time. “Holy Shit!” we all said at the same time. Steaks, pork, chicken, hamburger is what was visible from the door. We all celebrated by hugging each other and I immediately walked over to the grill portion of the stove, turned the valve and fired it up.

  “We have Bacon! Prime rib! Pork chops! Salmon! Veggies!” Jillian yelled out excited. Tom came out with three of the biggest steaks he could find. “We will need two more!” I said to Tom. Tom apologized.

  “Won’t they be surprised!” I said looking around for Ginger and Pete. Jillian went to the sink and turned the handle. The faucet sputtered a little and red then brown water flowed eventually giving way to clear. Jillian and Tom started washing dishes and flat wear as I located the wine cellar and a mini fridge with some tonic water, soft drinks and bottles of beer.

  “Beer or Wine?” I yelled out loud enough for both of them to hear. A chorus of two sang “BEER”! As I already selected an assortment of bottles. Ginger appeared at the kitchen entrance with her nose at full alert, as the steaks hit the grill and Jillian started cooking up some hash browns and peas and carrots.

  “Where’s Pete?” Asked Tom.

  “PETE!” I yelled as I heard him tearing across the stone foyer from the front door. Ginger and Pete sat at the kitchen’s entrance salivating to the point they made small puddles on the floor.

  “No sampling Greg!” Jillian said as she watched me cut into a portion of steak.

  “I was checking…” I started to say as Jillian said “right!” laughing a little.

  The table was set and it was time to eat. This was the first real meal we all have had in a very long time. Everything was neatly arranged on the small table as the steam wafted from the serving dishes. Jillian held up her bottle of beer. Tom and I waited for her to make a toast.

  “…I have no words.” Jillian said looking at the feast then to Tom and I then the dogs.

  The flavors exploded on our pallets. Jillian and I cut up small pieces for Ginger and Pete. Only a few at a time and of course they did not bother to chew. They knew this was something special and could barely contain themselves. After a year of basically eating backpacking meals, the exquisite taste overrode our stomach volume and we could not eat anymore. This did not stop Ginger and Pete. They recycled their meals twice and I had to put them outside because the sound of them regurgitating their meals was making us ill.

  “We didn’t plan that very well.” Jillian said looking at all the food still on the table.

  “I’m going to take my leftovers to the R/V, grab a cigar and plant my ass in a hammock.” I said.

  “After we clean up.” Jillian added. We did a half ass job cleaning up as I collected the dogs who were lying outside the front door in the sunshine. Ginger, Pete and I waddled to the R/V now parked outside the complex and unfolded a portable hammock.

  After a three-hour nap I woke to a car engine and transmission painfully trying to cooperate. Jillian sitting in the driver’s seat of a red Ferrari with Tom. Jillian’s face was all smiles as she waved to me and eventually made it around the large circular driveway and red lining the engine near the hammock.

  “What do you think?” Jillian asked me.

  “Beautiful!” I said. “Aww! Thank you! And what about the car?” Jillian asked.

  “You’re going to need plastic surgery to remove that smile from your face.” I said getting up and stretching with the dogs.

  “Follow us.” Jillian said as she put it in first gear and drove around to the other side of the complex with a large building attached. One of the four garage doors was opened. Inside; a black Suburban, a gray Aston Martin Vanquish, and a Jaguar F-Type R; British racing green.

  “That one is yours!” Jillian said running up and giving me a hug.

  “Steak, potatoes, Jaguar. This day keeps getting better.” I said as she opened the door for me. It started right up. The soft purr of the engine felt and sounded wonderful. As I put the window down and adjusted the mirrors I said: “I think I need a new toothbrush.”

  “TOOTHBRUSH SHOPPING! Jillian yelled as she ran to the Ferrari. Tom pulled out the Aston Martin with a head nod as he red-lined the engine. I opened the passenger door for Ginger and Pete as they struggled for the small amount of real estate the passenger seat provided.

  “We have about two and a half hours of sunlight.” Jillian said as she stopped at the R/V to get a map and handing me a radio. Tom and I followed Jillian to the freeway entrance and all lined up. Jillian held up her finger for us to wait.

  “This branches off in about forty miles, stay west, return east to this exit.” Jillian said folding up the map. Tom was off like a shot, the engine of the Aston Martin roared to life in a cloud of smoke from the tires as he blasted through the gears.

  “I’m gonna go slow till I feel comfortable.” Jillian said.

  “Me too.” I said as I took it to one hundred twenty miles per hour. The dogs started to get nervous. I had to dodge a couple of obstacles, but the Jag handled it beautifully. I eventually saw a cloud of smoke and the Aston Martin doing doughnuts in the middle of the highway. I pulled up slowly next to Tom who was parked sideways coughing from the smoke yelling “Fuck Yea! Fuck Yea! WHOOO! You got to drive this!” We both turned our heads as we heard the distinct sound of the Ferrari. Jillian was all smiles.

  “The faster you go the better it drives!” She exclaimed as she pulled alongside of us.

  “It’s getting dark. We better head back.” Jillian said. We all took off in a blaze of European engineering. The dogs were not impressed. As soon as the R/V was in sight I let them out and they were happy trotting along the side of the Jag as I parked it in the garage. I walked over to Tom standing in the garage.

  “What’s that one?” I said as I pointed to a car covered by a gray cloth in the corner.

  “No Idea.” Tom said. We walked over and both of us spotted the stitched logo. “Bentley.” We both said at the same time with grins on our faces. We pulled off the gray cloth and uncovered a ‘Continental GT.’

  “Locked.” I said as I tried the door handle. “We’ll get back to you tomorrow.” I said to the car as Jillian parked the Ferrari.

  “Either of you want to watch a movie?” I asked. During our tour we found a home theater, an actual theater that seated about twenty people, massive screen and sound system. Jillian looked at Tom, then at me. I smiled and said: “I understand.” As I walked out of the garage Tom stopped me.

  “Sir… Greg… Jillian and I wanted to…” Tom started to say as I stopped him from his obvious carefully prepared speech.

  “Tom. I understand. I get it, I really do. The world is very different now. I appreciate and respect your concern. All we can really do is make the most of what time we have.” I said.

  “Greg?” Jillian caught up with me as I walked to the R/V. She looked at me and did not speak. The look of confusion on her face. I spoke to break the awkward silence.

  “Two things, one; next week is probably going to be very emotionally difficult, two; when we meet up with Taylor Swift, you will extend me the same courtesy.” Jillian smiled and gave me a hug.

  “Taylor Swift. Hmm. I just might join in.” She said winking and walking away.

  “Ahhh! to be twenty again.” I said to Ginger and Pete who looked at me like I said ‘steak’.