“I’ve not tested a full-sized, live unit but I expect it’ll be impressive. I’ve only built a few very small ones, like this one, and dare say I’ve detonated only one – nearly burned down the bloody science building.”
Allison suddenly caught Rod’s eye and asked, “Were you aware he was doing this kind of work over there?”
“No, but he’s obviously been putting his time to good use. Godfrey, when can we test one of these out?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Would tomorrow afternoon be soon enough? Barring I don’t blow the laboratory or myself up in the process. It’s a bit sticky getting everything together in just the right concentrations, but it’s a doozy when done properly.”
The group was quite sure they had not heard the last of his explanation and settled in for the balance of his discussion. Cory and Clark continued to hover nearby.
“You see the top portion,” he continued, pointing at the capped end with the pin, “this is the detonator. When you turn the cap it aligns and releases two chemicals, which mix to form thermite. Perhaps you’ve heard of it – very nasty stuff – will melt through almost anything. Anyway, there is a metal plate, just here.” He again pointed to the cylinder below the cap. “There’s a thin sheathing of metal that keeps the thermite from mixing with the explosives in the rest of the canister, but once the thermite burns through it detonates the explosive and KAPOW!” he said excitedly.
“Interesting.” Kirk said, “What’s to keep it from burning through the top before you can throw it?”
“Ah, excellent observation. The thickness of the metal is the answer. It’s thicker around the cap and sides than through the thin sheathing. I’ve calculated it so you have exactly three seconds – no more, no less. The beauty of this little baby is two fold. It not only delivers a devastating explosive punch but it also burns everything around it. The thermite is sticky so if it hits something flammable it will ignite, and if the object is metal, it will melt.”
“Ingenious is right,” Clark quipped, taking the small device and turning it over in his hands.
“I thought you’d like it,” Godfrey said, smiling broadly.
“Well, let’s not get too excited until we see how it works and how safe it is,” the colonel noted. “Let’s meet at the rifle range tomorrow about 5:00 p.m. and we’ll test it out. That work for you?” he asked, pointing at Whitcomb.
“I don’t see why not.”
“Good enough. Listen folks, I’d like to spend a few more minutes but if you don’t mind let’s call it a day. That is unless anyone else has anything of an urgent nature?” Boyd asked, his battle wounds demanding he retire to the comfort of his overstuffed recliner.
Cory raised his hand to draw the old man’s attention and quickly added, “Our stores are suffering, in fact, we’re running low on almost everything. That fire we had in January was a killer – no pun intended.”
“I was afraid of that,” Allison noted. “How long can we last on what we’ve got?”
“Well, we’ve gone through most of the fresh stuff and will have to rely on the freeze-dried supplies. We can probably make it another nine months depending upon how the Growers do.”
“Is that all?” Boyd asked in a hushed tone.
“I know it’s hard to believe…I think we’ve about picked Logan clean, but we have an idea. Boyd, Clayton and I’d like your permission to start looking elsewhere. You know, like Hyrum and Wellsville?”
“I don’t have a problem with that but Rod, what do you think?” Bubley said, passing the buck.
Rod suddenly thought back to a hunting trip many years ago, a little further up Sardine Canyon where he’d lost his brother and Roger. All eyes were on him as he hesitated. “You don’t go alone,” he said firmly. “Under any circumstances. Do I have your word? We coordinate and go as a squad-sized unit or you don’t go at all.”
“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Cory said, understanding exactly where Rod was coming from.
“Fine, work it out between yourselves and keep me apprized. Anything further?” Boyd asked. All heads shook in the negative and he closed the meeting.
After the crowd filtered down the hallway, the sentry popped his roundish head back into the room. “Colonel, let me see you to your quarters.”
“Egan, I’d appreciate that. My hips feel like I’ve given birth a hundred times.”
“Pardon the observation, sir, but you are the oldest member of The Ward. You have every right to a few aches and pains.”
The weary warrior agreed but did not smile. “Egan, how long have you been with us now?” he asked as they worked their way from the room and down the hall.
“Be 18 months this next week.”
“That long? Sometimes it seems like forever since the fallout and at other times like it was yesterday.”
Egan had been discovered by a security team, carved up and badly beaten, but breathing. He’d barely survived; taking a hundred stitches on his torso alone, and countless others to make him whole. He had lived, but bore the scars of his infirmities: a trestle of raised, white tissue traveled his head, body and legs, only sparing his face and buttocks. Boyd had claimed the 28-year-old as his personal assistant. He found comfort in having someone close who loathed the Harvesters more than he.
Chapter 4
A purple sunset blazed across the western sky, drawing a troubling day to a close for Juanita and her inner circle. The woman had spent hours managing the farm’s operation and mulling over the information she’d been given that morning. At 3:00 in the afternoon Smitty had returned with a Bobcat: a small, but effective excavating machine. He’d scooped and carried tons of blackened clay from deep within the primitive cold storage, finishing the job shortly before dusk. However, he and his crew were far from having the project completed. Shelves needed to be built and installed, along with a proper stairway that would provide access to its cavernous depths. To finalize the mammoth chore a cover was already being constructed from the remains of a roof stripped from a nearby home. A framer-turned-Harvester had come up with the idea, knowing the stress and weight requirements would easily be fulfilled by such a structure.
Lady Williams washed her hands at the kitchen sink, peered out the window and over the fields. The cascade of lavender hues, hugging the earth and stretching like a band of woven colors across the horizon, was spectacular. “Beautiful,” she sighed, leaning closer to the glass for a better view.
“What’s that?” Annie asked.
“The sunset – just so beautiful tonight. It’s never been quite the same since the war; less red but just as impressive.”
“I guess,” Annie replied, not taking the time to even look. She’d seen it often enough to know what Juanita was saying, but was more concerned about having supper ready before her ‘mistress’ changed her tune.
“What do you mean, you guess? Are you not capable of appreciating beauty?” Juanita quipped. She quickly moved from the sink and plopped down in one of the four wooden chairs arranged uniformly around an old oak table.
“No. It’s very nice but your dinner…I want to make sure you’re happy with it.”
“Annie, you need to stop and smell the roses sometimes. There’s more to life than cooking and cleaning.” The tone and delivery of the statement almost sounded like an invitation. However, Juanita’s next utterance might have confused a more trusting individual but Annie knew where she stood. “Your list,” Juanita began, taking her assistant’s wrist in a firm grip. “Did it get done?”
“Yes, Ma’am. It surely did, right down to the very last thing.”
“Ah, good,” Lady Williams said, releasing Annie and returning to a more civil tone. “What’s on the menu?”
“Well, I thought you’d like some potatoes – a few from last year are still good and I made the bread you were craving.”
“Excellent. Did Dave bring by some fresh liver?”
“He did,” Annie replied, stepping to the counter where a small, boxy thermos sat.
“Yes, there appears to be a bit more than your usual portion. Would you like me to fry it up with some onions or will you be eating it raw tonight?”
Juanita tipped her chair back on two legs and gave the question a serious moment of consideration before dropping the chair’s front legs back to the floor. “We better take it down raw. There’s no telling how often the Harvesters will be able to keep us supplied, and I know you need the nutrients.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Annie replied, the words sincere and truly thankful. She busied herself about the kitchen for another few minutes before placing a plate of food on the table. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, nothing for now,” Lady Williams replied, as she snapped up a fork and ingested a large mouthful of mashed potato. Annie quietly, and out of Juanita’s view, placed a few small portions on her plate and shuffled toward her room. “Where are you going?” Juanita suddenly asked.
“My room. Is that okay?”
“No, it’s not. Join me. I could use some female interaction. Dealing with some of those arrogant, testosterone-driven morons all day has me bushed. Please Annie, have a seat.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Annie replied, sliding a chair out just enough to accommodate her slender frame. She sat in silence, pacing herself to fully enjoy the savory flavors she’d missed in her quest to survive. The red liver stared at her from the plate, almost sickening in its presentation, and she tried to ignore it. The act did not go unnoticed by her dining companion.
“Is there something wrong with the meat?” Juanita asked, sounding somewhat uptight.
“No, just saving it for last.”
“Oh, I see,” Lady Williams muttered, carving another small piece of quivering, vitamin-A-rich liver, which she sucked down without chewing. “The secret is not leaving it in your mouth very long,” she continued, catching her servant’s eye. “Cut it into tiny pieces and mix it with your potatoes if you have to.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Annie agreed, cutting a very small piece of flesh free from the three-ounce, miniature slab. She held the dripping tissue over her plate, trying desperately not to look at it.”
“What are you waiting for?” Juanita barked.
“Nothing. I’m just not used…” She paused for a second before continuing her thought. “What is it?” she finally asked, bluntly.
“Liver – you stupid woman,” the mistress blurted out, thumping the end of her fork against the table’s top.
“I know that, but what…what kind of liver? Where or…who did it come from?”
“Why? Are you suddenly morally opposed to eating liver? You should be grateful, regardless of where it came from,” Lady Williams snapped, pensively. “It’s a wonder to me you survived all those years on your own.”
“Well, I did and I didn’t have to eat anybody’s liver to do it.” Annie suddenly found herself standing, her fork lying on her plate and her hands clenched in balls of genuine frustration.
“Whoa. Now Annie, that’s what I like to see – some real spirit. I was afraid you’d lost what little you had,” Juanita said, smiling and signaling for Annie to sit back down. “You’ve surprised me. Now, eat your liver.” She pointed across the table at the uneaten portion, and then returned to her own meal.
Annie sat but could not bring herself to partake of the gelatinous mass. She poked and prodded at it for another few minutes before Lady Williams’ frustration boiled over. “My hell, woman. Don’t you want to live? Do you want to hemorrhage to death right here in this kitchen because you’re too stubborn to eat that meat?” The questions were purely rhetorical, each being spewed faster than anyone could possibly have answered. However, her tirade, fueled by her own self-importance, was not over and she continued unabated. “I’ve grown to like you, Annie, but I won’t make you…” She paused only briefly before she rethought her idea and spat out the rest of her notion. “The hell I won’t. You’re eating that if I have to force it down you,” she finished angrily.
“But I…” was all Annie was able to say, before Juanita jumped from her chair and wrestled a firm hold on her servant, pulling her forehead back. She scooped the liver up and dangled it over Annie’s face; red droplets speckled her nose and cheeks, which spread, as she tried to free herself from the stronger woman’s grasp.
“Open your mouth,” Williams yelled, mashing the bloody lump against Annie’s pursed lips. The slender woman held firm, unyielding to the bully’s attack, further infuriating Juanita. “You will eat this. If I have to kill you and stuff it down your dead throat – you will eat it. Do you hear me?” she shrieked, almost completely giving into the rage that had so quickly consumed her. The powerful woman shifted her position, wrapped an arm around her victim’s throat and squeezed, until Annie screamed for air.
At that moment, the out-of-control assailant slammed the liver into Annie’s gasping mouth and forced her to chew, exaggerating a grinding motion by alternately pushing and pulling on the little woman’s lower jaw. “Do you see? Is that so hard?” she asked, almost laughing to release the tension that shook her. “Annie, there’s an easy way and a hard way to everything. Tonight you chose the hard way. I hope you’ve learned a lesson.”
Annie shook her head, trying to acknowledge that she understood but Juanita still held her in a death-like grip. “Swallow it!” she grunted, noting a trickle of red juice running from the corner of Annie’s mouth. “You swallow it now and I’ll let you be.”
Williams eased the hold slightly and watched the look on her captive’s face, as she tried to gulp down the masticated knot of stringy tissue. Power – she loved the way it filled and revitalized her soul. For Juanita, it was almost sexual, and undeniably titillating to hold another’s fate so completely in her hands. She found pleasure in seeing Annie’s eyes roll back in her head, before closing them tightly and forcing the uncooked meat down. As quickly as the leader could see she’d won, she released her charge and returned to her seat, acting as if nothing had happened.
Annie reeled and gasped for breath, certain that death would soon overtake her. Lady Williams ignored her completely; taking the last few bites from her plate and wiping it clean with her bread. She smacked her lips loudly as she partook of the soggy morsel. “Supper was good, Annie. How was yours?” she asked, the question dripping with thick, unrepentant sarcasm.
Still unable to speak and desperately trying not to regurgitate, Annie only nodded.
“I thought as much,” Lady Williams noted. “Get this mess cleaned up. I’m expecting Finn before bedtime and I can’t have you swishing about, getting in the way.”
The distraught older woman did her best to whisper an uncomfortable reply, “Of course.”
“Once you’re done get out of my hair for the night. I won’t be needing you anymore.” Annie expressed her understanding in a simple nod, but Juanita looked on, as if something more should be forthcoming. She stared across the table, her eyes pushing Annie to her feet in an effort to gather up the plates and tidy the kitchen. “Um, excuse me, Annie. Don’t you have something to say to me?” she questioned, her voice raspy but somewhat sweet.
I hope you die in your sleep, Annie thought, momentarily wondering if she’d said it aloud. The look on Juanita’s face confirmed she had not. Her mind raced, trying to remember the day’s events. Is there something I’m forgetting? And then it suddenly occurred to her and she bowed her head, avoided eye contact and said, “Thank you.”
“That’s all I needed to hear. Now, finish up and get yourself off to your room.” Juanita waved her hand, exaggerating the need for Annie to clean up quickly and be gone, her mannerisms and tone not giving way to any indication that the meal had been anything but a delight.
Crazy…led a string of vulgarities that wound their way through Annie’s mind, only to start up again as a repeat performance. She did her chores, still suffering the effects of the attack but alive, nonetheless
. Just as she placed the last of the dishes in the cupboard a gentle knock sounded at the backdoor. Finn waved and entered.
“She’s expecting me,” he said, his broad chest filling the doorway.
“I know. I’ll see if she’s ready.” Annie strolled slowly from the kitchen and found Juanita in the sitting area, her head back and eyes closed. “Finn’s here,” she said, softly.
“Good, send him in and get to your room,” Juanita ordered.
“Yes, Ma’am. If you need me in the night just holler.”
A few minutes later, Annie extinguished the kitchen lantern and walked with heavy footsteps to her room. Once there, she removed her shoes, tiptoed back to the kitchen and leaned up very close to the door separating the parties. Her breath came in short, almost painful spurts, causing her to breathe through her mouth. Can they hear me? she wondered, leaning even closer to hear the muted conversation on the other side.
Annie hung on every word, missing some but gleaning the general gist of the meeting. At times she beat back the urge to fling the door open and give the two a verbal thrashing but she knew it would only lead to her death. Better to remain silent and alive. Listening to the conspirators discuss the final minutes of Gerry’s demise, Annie suddenly realized where her meal had originated and she retched, gliding away from the door until she could control the nausea.
When she returned, Finn and Juanita had shifted their discussion to the children, The Normals, as they called them. She listened, unable to believe what she was hearing but certain Juanita and Finn were perfectly capable of fulfilling every word. Sensing the meeting was drawing to a close, Annie slipped from the kitchen as quietly as she had entered and went to her room. There, she contemplated what needed to be done and summoned the courage to act. She thought of her husband’s final minutes, as conveyed to her through Roger. He had been selfless, thinking only of her in his final desperate lunge to escape and be with her, but Solomon had ended it – ended them. Ethan and Roger were good men whose legacy she could not ignore.
The Lasting Hunger Page 5
