Final Dawn: Escape From Armageddon by Darrell Maloney

the barns.
         And half of the chickens would occupy each chicken coop.
         Their reasoning, of course, was to divide the stock in case there was a disease outbreak. A case of hoof and mouth disease could wipe out a herd of cattle within weeks. But a second herd, which never mingled with the first, might be spared the same fate.
         The same held true for pigs and poultry as well. Separating the herds wouldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t all die from disease, but it greatly improved the odds of at least half their livestock surviving. And since they’d likely have the only such livestock within a thousand miles or more, it was essential that they take extra precautions to keep them alive.
         Once all of the construction was completed within the compound, a twelve foot privacy fence, made of sheet steel, would be erected completely around the compound. For privacy, the contractor was told. Hollywood celebrities wouldn’t want the paparazzi using telephoto lenses to take photos of them pulling weeds from a quarter mile away.
         The fence, it turned out, would be one of the most expensive parts of the project. Sheet steel wasn’t cheap, after all, and a fence that was twelve feet high and four hundred yards square would require a lot of steel. The cost for the fence alone was over two hundred grand.
         But hey, after all, what good is $211 million dollars if you can’t spend it on something useful ?
         There were some other stipulations in the contract as well. In the interest of privacy for their patients, the treatment center wanted to be as self-sufficient as possible. There would be a huge septic system built for the compound, so that there would be no need for sewer tie-ins with the city. Mark had already reviewed the geological survey and knew that there was a hundred year supply of water eighty feet below the site, so the contractor would dig wells to supply the residents and for irrigation.
         And the kicker would be the electrical requirements. A second wind turbine would be constructed in the northwest corner of the compound. It would only be a third of the size as a commercial turbine, but capable of pulling twelve megawatts per hour on a breezy day.
         The power from the turbine would go directly into a large battery bank which would take up 200 square feet of floor space in the dormitory’s basement. Solar panels on the building’s roof would add more power to the battery system. And lastly, when battery capacity fell to forty percent or less, one of two large diesel generators would automatically kick in. All electrical requirements for the compound would be drawn from the batteries, which would never go dead.
         Redundancy. It was the key to survival.
         Of course, the contractors were told that it was all being done in the name of self-sufficiency and privacy. Their patients, the high-society celebrities and political figures, wouldn’t want outsiders like electric company repairmen coming in and maybe snapping their photos to splash across the front pages of the tabloids. So the electrical systems would all be maintained within the treatment center, by treatment center engineers.
         If it all sounded strange to the contractors, they didn’t let on. They were used to building odd things at the whims of others, and as long as they got paid, they didn’t care.
         Mark stayed at the site long enough to verify for himself that everything was on schedule .
         Then he walked to the top of Salt Mountain. It was a mere 300 feet high, not really much of a mountain. But it was fairly steep in some places, and the winding path that avoided the steepest parts was almost half a mile long.
         Once at the top, Mark surveyed the area. As he had hoped, he had a clear view of Interstate Highway 10, the main east-west thoroughfare that cut a path through central Texas.
         He planned to install a video camera on this