MacArthur's Freehold

Chapter 59

Chapter 59 -- IOQUNVXEDJZKDZSKIZ

Walter Kittrell parked his truck a considerable distance from the target. He and Bob White were both still fairly young, especially by working-class standards, and could still stand a lengthy hike. They were both fifty-four, classmates who after graduation went to work at the same factory. After losing their jobs in one layoff after another for close to twenty years, they had, like many rural and small-town people, turned to self-employment to have a regular income. Their small auto repair shop had done quite well, and the amount of cash under the table usually exceeded the income they paid taxes on. Nevertheless they were scrupulous about business matters, with all provable cash intake accounted for.

Each had gone through a couple of wives during the early years, and Bob, unlucky enough to have a child, was only a few years past the confiscatory child support. Now they had girlfriends, amiable and undemanding, and were making a good living. In another ten or twelve years they could retire without worrying about having to get by on Social Security. Life should have been good, and for the time being it wasn't bad, from a comfort point of view.

But the ever more oppressive taxes and regulations, with the ever more depressing news of the decaying society they lived in, made them realize that they were not even going to be allowed a comfortable retirement. They were unlikely to be able to afford private insurance after they retired - they could barely afford what they had now, even with enough employees to get a supposedly more affordable group plan. If they were stuck with Medicare they would be killed off at the earliest opportunity through the abysmal care even the insured were getting.

'Gotta stop thinking so much' he thought as he handed Bob the camera case. "I just get mad and it doesn't fix anything'. The small pocket camera was easier to use than a phone, at least for his needs. He locked the truck, double checked them as he walked around to join Bob as they walked toward the railroad.

The railroad was on a high embankment as it ran along Highway 1. When they reached the railroad they were a good twenty feet higher than the road that ran parallel to it for miles across the flood plain. As they walked they constantly watched for trains. Not only could a train approach almost unheard if one was not paying attention, they did not want to be seen, even by a train crew. And the maintenance trucks could stop and ask them what they were doing.

They walked a good mile before the trestle they had selected. The embankment had openings at various places for side roads to the adjacent highway to pass under. Except where it crossed a major highway and used a concrete overpass the bridges were supported on large wooden posts, not much larger than utility poles. In some places the railroad crossed the road in a span supported only at the ends, in others the road was divided into two lanes as it went under the railroad, with supporting posts in between.

Walter and Bob had scouted a couple already, and were now checking out a third. Checking both ways for a train, they descended to the road below. Bob kept a lookout for cars while Walter took pictures. Then he took out a notebook while Bob used a laser distance tool to take some measurements. The data recorded, they climbed back to the railroad track and inspected it. Then they headed back to their vehicle.

Back at the shop, they went into the office and added the new information to the plans. The completed diagram showed a section of the railroad approximately twenty miles long, with the overpasses marked. The three they had selected were virtually guaranteed to collapse if the vertical supports were removed, and with additional damage to the horizontal members holding the roadway the bridge would be out for weeks at least.

"Well, let's get the crew together and look this over" said Walter. He looked out at the shop floor, where the last work of the day was being wrapped up and the workers preparing to leave for the weekend. They were doing well enough to close on Saturday, and the crew was never late in leaving. They would have the place to themselves until Monday morning.