Tempest

by Kenny Soward

  Sara had opted to assemble her excursion gear down in the cellar where Zoe couldn’t see. The little girl would no doubt start asking questions or even throw a fit if she knew her mother was leaving the cabin. Sara zipped up the pack and placed her Bowie knife and a utility knife on top so she didn’t forget them when she went out.

  “That’s why I’m not leaving until tomorrow morning,” Sara said. “And I’m only going down to the end of the road. There’s, what, fourteen cabins on Pine Bluff Road? Some of them were occupied when we came up, and it might be good to introduce myself to the neighbors in case things in the cities get even worse. There might be good people down there we can rely on. And it would also be good to know if there were any bad ones, right?”

  “Remember what happened with the fake cop?” Todd reminded her. “You pulled over, thinking you were doing the right thing.”

  “Don’t tell me what I was thinking,” Sara said with an edge of warning, then she took a deep breath and softened her tone. “Yes, I was just trying to be a good citizen, and—”

  “You almost died because of it.”

  Sara looked up at her son, surprised that he wasn’t backing down like he usually did out of respect for her. But she could see why. His eyes were glassy and full of worry, and his hands were clenched tightly to his hips.

  “I can handle myself just fine.” Sara gave him a pointed look. “Remember what happened to the fake cop?”

  “I know,” Todd said. “My mom is a badass, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop worrying. The weather will be getting worse over the next few days. At least let me come with you.”

  “And leave Zoe here alone? I don’t think so.”

  Todd looked slowly around the room as he thought about another angle to argue, even as his expression told her he was running out of talking points. Any other time, his obstinance would have annoyed her, but it was good to see him thinking critically right now and standing up for his belief. The only problem was that he wasn’t going to win this argument.

  “I’m going out, son, and that’s the end of the discussion.” Sara finished with her backpack, stood up, and went past Todd and up the stairs. “You’ve got to hold down the fort here. Come here, I’ve got something for you.”

  Todd followed Sara up the stairs, and she led him to the master bedroom where a tall bureau stood against the wall. Zoe was at the kitchen table engrossed in her Mega Fossil Dig Kit she’d gotten for her birthday two months ago and barely noticed them go by.

  “I needed a stepladder to put it up there,” Sara said, gesturing to the top of the bureau. “You should be able to get it down on your own.”

  Todd stretched up on his toes, reached high, and pulled down a pump action shotgun from the top of the bureau. He pointed the barrel down and checked to make sure the safety was on. Then he checked the chamber to make sure there wasn’t a round inside before he rolled it over and pressed down on the shelf elevator to reveal there were no shells in the magazine tube. Sara was impressed and relieved that Todd knew what he was doing.

  “This will be here when I’m gone,” Sara said, flatly. “There are shells up top. I took the ladder back out to the shed so your sister can’t possibly get up here, load it, and try to use it. We’ll put it back in the gun safe as soon as I get back.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “I think you know why. If someone comes around the house while I’m gone, you may need to scare them off. Or worse.”

  “I doubt anyone would come up here,” Todd said with an incredulous look. “The people in the cabins probably don’t even know we’re here.”

  “All the same,” Sara said, pressing the point. She remembered what Mike had said about lawlessness and terrorism. “If you do see someone snooping around, I want you to load this up and make them aware that you’re here. Go out on the porch and challenge them. And if they don’t back down, you may need to pull the trigger.”

  “Got it.” Todd punctuated his words with a firm nod. It looked like he enjoyed having some real responsibility.

  “I’m serious, kid,” Sara said, gripping her son’s arm. “If someone ignores you and steps one foot onto our porch, you need to take them out. No one would fault you for it.”

  “I understand, Mom,” Todd said, looking at her seriously. “Just like you did to the fake cop.

  “We trained for moments like this.” Sara retained her dead-serious expression. “All those times on the range with your father driving you nuts, repeating every gun safety rule in the book until he was blue in the face.”

  “He drove me crazy with that stuff.” Todd gave a knowing chuckle. “I understand it now. You aren’t going to be here to watch over me and Zoe. That’s going to be my job.”

  “That’s exactly right. And I know I can trust you.”

  “I won’t let you down, Mom.”

  “Good, son. Now let’s go see what we can do about that inventory. Your sister will love having something she can help with, and we need to know how long we can survive up here on the food stores we have.”

  “Five years or more,” Todd shrugged.

  “I’ll take the under on that,” Sara said with mock defiance. “Wanna bet on it?”

  “Sure, Mom. I’ll take the over. Let’s get counting.”

  Chapter 26

  Jake, Boston, Massachusetts | 2:30 p.m., Monday

  Jake placed the rifle on the wet roof and finished climbing the last few iron rungs. It was slippery going, and his foot had already slid off once to accidentally kick out over the empty air. But once up and balanced in the gusting winds, Jake shouldered the rifle and turned to help Marcy. As he looked down past Marcy’s dark, wet head to the ground below, the danger of their precarious position hit home, and he wanted to be away from the edge as soon as possible. He didn’t remember ever being afraid of heights, but his stomach twisted every time the wind gusted, throwing rain in his face and threatening to toss him over the side if he didn’t keep his feet.

  Marcy climbed the last two rungs, reached up to take Jake’s hand, and allowed him to pull her up and away from the dangerous edge. Jake did a quick spin and looked out at the city where the tops of buildings had been sheared away, and many had begun collapsing as the rainwater washed out the sediment from beneath them.

  He could see the bay to the east where the waters had encroached half a mile into the city, and Jake estimated that at some point the waters surrounding the city would surge together and put South Boston completely under water. His heart broke for those they’d left at the Westin, and he could only hope Ashley had gotten them out of there or taken them higher up.

  Jake turned his attention back to the roof. There was an old air conditioning unit, some vents, and the massive cell phone tower that rose above them. The control room for the tower sat off to the side, the lights dark.

  Motioning for Marcy to stay where she was, Jake returned to the edge of the roof and began walking around to find a better way down. He hoped there might be another fire escape, and they could make a quick getaway. After walking three quarters of the way around, nothing obvious appeared. It wasn’t until he reached the back part of the building that he found hope in the form of a roof directly below them, and he motioned Marcy over to have a look.

  “It’s only about a twelve-foot drop to the next roof,” Jake shouted above the wind and rain when Marcy got there.

  “There’s no fire escape,” Marcy shouted back.

  “We don’t need one.” Jake pointed straight down into the corner, and Marcy leaned out so she could see the drainpipe that ran down to the roof below. It was about eight inches in diameter, not easy to grip, though there was enough space between it and the wall to get an arm around it. “We can climb down that. It will be slick, but it looks secure. We can do it.”

  Marcy nodded and started to climb over the edge when Jake took hold of her arm to stop her. He looked back over his shoulder at the cell phone tower and thought about what Marcy said earlier about peopl
e being stuck here as captives. Jake couldn’t break everyone out of this place, but maybe there was something he could do to help.

  Jake sprinted over to the base of the tower and did a quick inspection of the thick cluster of cables that ran from the base of the tower over to the control building. It was all newer wiring, probably done within the last five years or so, and nothing was severed.

  He turned to the control room, grabbed the door handle, and pulled. The rusted metal scraped across the old crumbled tar, giving him more than enough room to squeeze in and plenty of light to see by. The room was ten feet by ten feet and housed a control panel with switches and cables, and the generator.

  “What are you doing?” Marcy asked, and Jake turned to see her standing in the doorway. Her glasses were wet and smeared again, and he had no idea how she could even see him at this point.

  “I think I can get this cell tower powered up.” Jake ran his hand over the dusty control panel and checked some of the gauges. “Yep, there’s gas in the generator.”

  “What good will it do if power is down across the city?”

  “The power might be down across the city,” Jake said as a dash of hope trickled into his mind, “but this connects to several internet service providers who are probably running on backup power.”

  “I don’t see a keyboard where you can type a message to the outside world.”

  Jake took his cell phone out of his pocket and held it up, grinning.

  “All right,” Marcy nodded her head vigorously in agreement. “I’ll keep watch.”

  Jake handed her the rifle and quickly showed her how to hold it. “This thing is loaded and ready to shoot. Keep your finger off the trigger and the barrel pointed down until you’re ready to fire. If anyone comes up that ladder, point it at them and pull the trigger.”

  “Okay,” Marcy said with a big, slow nod, then she turned her back toward the door and stared at the spot where they’d come up the ladder.

  “Oh, and clean your glasses off,” Jake said with a teasing grin. “You’re aren’t going to hit anything if you can’t see it.”

  “On it,” Marcy replied.

  Jake got to work powering up the tower. He saw that this failover system had not been set up for a fully-automatic failover like most. It involved two switches that would have to be manually turned on by a service person during a normal outage, but given the amount of destruction in the area, Jake doubted a service expert would be around for some time.

  He flipped the first switch to route the backup power to the tower, then he went over and primed the generator by pressing the primer button multiple times. He turned a dial on the generator to the “ON” position and then hit the start button.

  The engine sputtered and coughed and belched smoke before it rumbled to life, shaking the entire rooftop. Jake turned to Marcy and grinned wide. Marcy had turned halfway into the control room and flashed him a smile and a thumbs-up before she turned back to guard duty.

  Jake flipped the second switch on the control board, allowing the generator power to surge through the cell tower lines. There was a loud click and then the lights on the control panel came to life in vivid green and blue color. Smacking his hands together, Jake rushed to the control tower door, pushed past Marcy, and looked up. The cell tower lights were on, and the hum of the powerful receivers made his head thrum with vibration.

  He stepped just inside the control room door and pulled out his cell phone, pressing the power button. Marcy leaned in, and together they watched the device power up with a light ringtone. Jake’s heart skipped a beat when he saw there was a strong link, and the phone still had twenty-five percent power.

  “Make a call,” Marcy urged, excitedly.

  “The lines are probably jammed,” Jake said as he dialed 911. It rang one time before he was instantly put on hold, and thirty seconds later he hung up. “I’ll try to text them, but I don’t know if anyone will get it.”

  “Texting 911 is only available in certain cities,” Marcy said with a frown, “but it won’t hurt to try.”

  “Maybe it’ll be directed to a national emergency line,” Jake said with a hopeful shrug. Then he typed in the message complete with their relative location, a brief description of the hostage situation, and a warning that X-Gang was heavily armed. Jake hit “Send” with a sigh, and then he moved down his list of texts threads until he saw ongoing one between himself and Sara. He saw that Sara had been texting him since yesterday, probably sending them from her computer using their Cosmic Link connection.

  “Are those from Sara?” Marcy asked, looking longingly at the screen over Jake’s shoulder.

  “She says they had a little trouble getting to the cabin in Pine Bluff,” Jake said, swallowing hard. “She says she’ll tell me all about it later when I get there, that everyone is safe, and she wants me to come home…” Jake pulled the phone sheepishly away. “The next part is private.”

  “Oh,” Marcy said with a chuckle.

  Jake finished reading and then started typing his reply.

  There was a shuffle out on the rainy roof, and bullets fired past Marcy’s head and into the control room, pinging off the brick. Marcy spun with a cry and fired wildly back in the other direction, drawing a surprised cry from whoever had shot at them.

  Jake grabbed the back of Marcy’s hoodie and pulled her into the control room, then he peeked around the open door. A man lay on the tar roof near the ladder clutching his stomach, but another pair of hands tossed a gun over the edge and started to pull the next gang member up.

  “Let’s go,” Jake said, rushing from the control room and crouch-walking quickly over to the corner of the building with the drainpipe.

  “Give me the gun,” Jake said, trying to keep his voice calm as Marcy handed the weapon over. Jake turned, raised the rifle to his shoulder, and popped off two rounds toward the man coming over the ladder. The man cried out and quickly backed down the ladder out of sight. “Go!” Jake shouted to Marcy. “I’ll cover you.”

  Jake glanced down as Marcy wordlessly sat down on the edge of the roof and leaned down to grab the edge of the pipe with her right hand. She seemed to have a moment of indecision before she let herself fall forward with a gasp, still holding the pipe edge with one hand as she quickly grasped around the pipe with her free arm and feet.

  Marcy slid down the pipe just as a shot rang out and something stung Jake’s leg. He turned back toward the ladder to see the man had come over and was walking sideways across the roof as he fired. Jake leaned in and popped off three more quick rounds, feeling the gun rock in his grip like an earthquake. The man jerked back as a bullet ripped through his chest, toppling him onto his back and sending his gun clattering to the roof.

  Jake heard more shouts from that direction, but he didn’t wait to see if anyone else was coming up. He shouldered the rifle and turned to see if Marcy had made it okay.

  She wasn’t there.

  His eyes searched wildly for her until he finally spotted her at the far end of the lower roof, waving to him through the rain. Every instinct told him to drop the twelve feet. However, he didn’t want to sprain an ankle if he could help it. Jake nodded at Marcy and practically leapt onto the pipe, holding the edge until he had a good grip around the pipe with his left arm and his feet were positioned. Then he lowered himself down until he was four feet from the roof before he dropped.

  Backing up across the low roof, Jake held the rifle pointed upward, and when a man and a woman appeared at the edge of the higher roof, he fired two times to send them flying out of sight.

  “Right here, Jake,” Marcy said, touching his back. “There’s another fire escape.”

  “Is it stable?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think we have a choice.”

  “Go,” Jake said, and he waited until he heard Marcy’s feet land on the metal grating before he turned and dropped the four feet to land next to her.

  They looked into each other’s eyes as the rusty metal groaned under their w
eight, but held. Marcy didn’t need Jake to tell her to descend, and soon they were both making their way carefully down the slick and rusted fire escape. The scent of wet iron and rust penetrated Jake’s nose, and the wind and rain battered them every step of the way. Jake looked up every time they reached a new landing to see if anyone was looking over the edge, before realizing they must not be willing to climb down the roof if their prey was moving to the streets.

  “Gah!” Marcy cried out in pain. It wasn’t the sound of someone who had simply bumped her knee on something. It was a heartfelt, painful cry.

  “Are you okay?” Jake called down, watching as Marcy fussed with something on her leg. The woman gave a long, strained grunt before she slid free of whatever had been holding her.

  “I’m okay,” Marcy shouted up, the words sounding forced between her clenched teeth. “Just be careful. There’s a lot of metal sticking out down here.”

  Jake continued to climb down with no regard for his own safety. When he got to the spot where Marcy had cried out, he noticed a one-inch piece of metal sticking out. His heart sank when he saw it was dripping with rainwater and blood. Marcy waited for Jake to finish the last flight and drop down next to her, and he instantly saw she was favoring her right leg and had a pinched look on her face.

  “I’m sorry,” Marcy said, glancing down.

  Jake knelt next to her and brushed at the top of her thigh where her jeans had been cut open and blood was running out in rivulets. It was hard to tell just how badly she was bleeding because everything was wet, but it didn’t look good.

  “We need to get you out of the rain,” Jake said.

  Shots rang out above them, and bullets pinged off the metal fire escape, causing Jake and Marcy to drop into crouches.

  “Can you run?” Jake asked, searching Marcy’s face for the truth.

  “Yeah, I can,” Marcy said, and the hard look in her eyes told Jake she would do it or die trying.