Following another round of quick goodbyes, Rod and crew were on their way back to the campus, pleased they found Rose, made a new ally, and secured enough supplies to keep them going for a few more months.
Chapter 10
Days passed, and then a week, without any sign of Annie or The Normals. They had vanished, crushing Juanita’s macabre plan for possible self-preservation. In the fading light of a brilliant summer day, she and Finn sat on the porch of her ranch-style home, drinking and plotting. They’d washed their troubles away with the better portion of a well-aged bottle of bourbon and were getting down to the details of how they might recapture The Normals and punish the adults.
“I’d of bet my last nickel they were headed south. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The Ward is the only plausible place they could go…everywhere else is either too far away or…”
A somewhat tipsy Finn briskly interrupted William’s thought. “Or…they ran into a group more hungry than us,” he blurted out, bending them both over with laughter.
“Exactly,” Juanita agreed, smiling broadly. “What you hearing from down there anyway? What are them goodie-two-shoes up to?”
“Who…oh, oh yeah – wait a minute, wait a minute – I’ve got to think for a sec. You’re talking about our mouse…right?” Finn asked, the liquor enhancing his accent.
“Mole,” Lady Williams said, bluntly.
“Mole?”
“I think you mean mole, not mouse. Our guy at The Ward, he’s a mole not a mouse,” she explained.
“Oh, a mole,” he repeated, giggling before taking another belt from the open bottle. “You mean the poor fellow Gerry snuck in there?”
Juanita held her tongue, thinking back to the decision to infiltrate The Ward and the manner in which it was done. Gerry had little say in what occurred or how it was done but she let Finn believe what he liked. The plan, the plotting, and the call had been hers, and she reveled in it.
“I don’t think the mouse…er, I mean mole, even knows Gerry’s been served as a main course,” Finn continued. The gruesome duo doubled over again, giddy and unrepentant.
“So…” she said, waiting.
“So…so what? Oh, right. Last we heard they’re running low on supplies – just like you figured. Setting that fire was perfect,” he said, accentuating the ‘p’ and sending spittle over his chest.
“And they don’t suspect?” she asked, reaching for the bottle.
“Nah, they’re a trusting bunch of morons, but it’s getting more and more difficult to get messages back and forth. We need a better system.”
“You mean a note hidden in a random mail box, spirited away by a masked sapper isn’t an ideal system?” she questioned, snickering, before fracturing into a series of rumbling guffaws. No one could amuse her quite the way she could herself. Once she’d regained a semblance of composure she asked, “Is that Marine still calling the shots?”
“Far as I know,” Finn concurred, waving for another drink.
“I thought that old fart would’ve given up by now. Wait a minute…hold up just a second. Why not?”
“You’ve lost me, Lady…um, why not what?”
“Why not help the decrepit old man along? Send a note ASAP – he needs to meet with a tragic accident. Nothing to draw attention, mind you, but let’s shake ’em up.”
“Ooooo, I like the sounds of that,” Finn said, knocking down another quick swallow.
Juanita grinned, fiendishly rolling her lips and knitting her brow. “I’m sure our man will be up to the task.”
The comment brought forth a quick howl from the hulking Harvester. “I forget how well you know him – certainly a true believer – he’ll take care of business.”
“Good, now give me the last swig and listen up. It’s time we made a move.” Finn leaned in, pushing past the alcohol buzz to concentrate on Juanita’s words. “Our numbers are dwindling, food is low, and scavenging liver is near impossible. Word will soon get out that we’re eating our own.”
“But how?” he asked.
Williams waved her hand, as if shooing an annoying fly from her face. “It’ll happen, believe me. The simple folks will soon start to miss friends and family and the excuses won’t hold up. We need to strike while we can.”
“Okay, but where? How?”
“The Ward. They have everything we need: a compound fortress, supplies and Normals. We take them now and we can welcome Annie and company when they show up.”
Finn sat back and rubbed the blond, thick stubble that covered his face. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of ’em and they got plenty of firepower.”
“Rifles but nothing heavy – is that right?” she asked.
He nodded and continued to stroke his chin.
“What’ve we got – 250 that’ll fight?”
“Give or take,” Finn confirmed.
“Okay then, once we’ve received confirmation that Bubley is dead, we move. We open the armory; roll out the big stuff and head south. We’ll make the Idaho National Guard proud.”
“Yes, Mum. I like the way you think.”
Chapter 11
The Aggies tired and weathered football stadium had once been an epicenter of school spirit, drawing huge crowds of roaring fans and alums from all over the region, but no longer. Brutal years of searing sun, freezing cold, and neglect had sidelined, but not retired the aging arena. Days after running into Grant and Rose, things at The Ward had returned to their version of normal. Each person had assignments to fill, chores to perform and life to be lived. Years before, a generalized motto, as taken from the scriptures, had been informally adopted by many and tattooed by some – Men are, that they might have joy. It served as a constant reminder that there was more to living than simply surviving.
Today, as on many days, the stadium was a hive of activity. Security personnel had arrived early to sweep and clear the facility, setting up a roving patrol and two snipers high in the seats overlooking the surroundings. On the field a dozen teenager Normals bent and stretched along uniform rows of four. They faced a single instructor, his hands and actions leading them through a rigorous series of exercises to limber and warm their growing muscles.
“Alright ladies, let’s do it again but this time with gusto,” Niel barked, squatting quickly before shooting his feet behind him and completing a quick push-up. Back in a standing position, he hollered for the trainees to do it again, clapping his hands to time their movements. “Better, better…do it again.” The teens had been at it for 30 minutes without a break but it was a ritual they endured quietly, knowing the balance of their training day would be filled with excitement and life-saving lessons.
“Scotty, get this crew on the track. I want them good and warm this morning,” Niel shouted.
“Okay, you heard the man,” the younger Mickelson exclaimed. “Let’s move. Form up in twos. Give me someone at the lead who can run.”
A black girl with long, sleek legs bounded forward, assuming a position at the front of the pack. Dude, who whispered his intent, quickly joined her, “You’re going down, Martha.”
“In your dreams, numb-nuts,” she replied, playfully kicking the shorter boy.
“Listen up, listen up,” Scotty called, “I don’t want any pussy-footin’ it around the track this morning. Show me what you’ve got. Imagine Niel’s a Harvester and…” Scotty’s voice was suddenly blotted out by the sound of a motorcycle roaring to life and racing across the field toward the clustered youth. Niel had donned a leather skullcap and mounted a bike to put the fear of God into their class.
Shrieks, whether real or pretend, filled the air as the marauder paced the bike to put them in motion. He pushed the bunch for three laps, surging close to their heels until they collapsed in a heap where Scotty stood, waiting. Seconds later, Niel and the motorcycle sped from view.
“Very good! Martha bested you again, Dude. Take some lessons from this experience. How’s it feel to have somebody chasing you down?”
“Tiring
,” a slightly heavyset boy mustered, sucking wind deep into his lungs.
“Yes Jesse, but how do you get away? What tactics do you employ instead of getting run down until your guts are spilling on the ground?” The group was quiet, each panting to recoup. Scotty walked a slow, but deliberate circle around the wheezing band, waiting for his brother’s return.
Several minutes later, with everyone back on their feet and arrayed before him, Scotty delivered the day’s instructions. “We’ll be working in three groups throughout the day – Niel and I have created the teams and they are as follows:
Team 1: Boob, you’ll be team leader, take Ezra, Wayne and Sandi to the archery range. Cory will help hone your skills for the next hour.
Team 2: Martha, I want you to look after Jesse, Russ and Oliver.”
The tall, svelte youngster waved her understanding but muttered, not so quietly, to Ezra and Sandi, “Why do I get all the boys?”
Scotty, without missing a beat, answered the unintended question in a harsh, cutting tone, “Because, Martha, you have skills these young men can draw from that may one day save their lives. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal, Sir. Sorry,” she replied.
“Right – good. I know you are. Meet Clayton at the sand pits for hand-to-hand tactics and knife fighting. I’ll personally reward anyone who can kick Clayton’s butt.”
A noticeable clamor of excitement rolled through the group, bringing a wry smile to the square-chested instructor.
“Okay, last group, I want Dude to snag the rest of you. Let’s see…that’d be Holly, Piper and Luis.”
Dude was keen to see where they’d be assigned, but was surprised when he saw Niel approaching them, pushing a stripped-down motorcycle. The older brother was unrecognizable, having covered himself from head to foot with overstuffed padding and outerwear protection. A Harley emblazoned helmet topped his head; the visor of which was tipped back just enough to see his eyes, confirming it was the older Mickelson.
“What’s he up to?” Dude asked.
“That, my boy, is your challenge for the morning. He’s going to run your little butt into the dirt if you can’t figure out a way to get him off that hog.”
“Say what?” Piper shrieked.
“I know it sounds impossible but there are ways and by the end of the day, you’ll all be pros. However,” Scotty began, “this is dangerous. I’ll need your full attention. I don’t want you or Niel hurt. No, wait, on second thought, hurt Niel just enough for him to remember you, but keep in mind this is only an exercise and don’t get carried away.”
“Perfect, can I go first,” Holly asked, anxious to get a shot at the portly assailant.
“I don’t see why not. Okay, everybody to your stations. We’ll switch it up in an hour or so. Niel, you ready?” Scotty’s question was quickly answered with the sound of the bike’s engine revving to life.
From atop what was once the broadcasters booth, Rod and Clark watched the morning’s lessons. They’d talked for some time, discussing each youth, taking into account their proven strengths and lingering weaknesses.
“Keep in mind they’re just kids, Rod. Hell, when I was their age I was chasing pigs and shoveling horse stalls – killing a man was the furthest thing from my mind. They’re learnin’ fast and that boy of yours is gifted. He’s strong as a mule. I’ve never seen a kid his age hit a baseball that far – sure shocked the crap out of Cory.”
Rod chuckled; remembering the day of the game and the sense of normalcy they’d enjoyed, if only for a few hours. “Yeah, he can sure rocket a ball, can’t he?” he quipped, proudly.
“Yup, that’s a fact, but he’s much more than that and you know it. Better than any of us, you have to know how unique and special he is. He’s got insight beyond his years, a way of bringing people together and making everyone seem important.”
“That’s the Farrell in him,” Rod confirmed. “He always knew what to say and how to take charge.”
“True enough, but genes can only do so much. You and Allison have done a fine job raising Farrell and Elva’s son. They’d be proud…that’s for sure.” Clark paused for a minute, scanning the field for signs of activity, before pointing out Jeff’s actions to the boy’s father. “My case in point – take a look over at the range. You see Boob takin’ that little Sandi under his wing? She could sneak up on a sleeping lion and cut its throat but she lacks strength with a bow. You can see he’s anxious for her to succeed and she likely will, with his help.”
“Thanks, Clark. That boy has blessed our lives more than you can imagine.” The two, very close friends stood quietly for a few minutes, until Rod spoke again. “Clark, I hate to sound prophetic but what we’re doing here is more than just training a group of kids to survive. I don’t know how, or when, but I believe this little band of Normals will swell in numbers, expanding their ranks to sweep the country with justice, and finally, peace.”
Clark pulled the ball cap from his head and scratched at the dense, gray stubble it hid. “I think that’s a vision we all share. Hard to believe such a dream could come true with so few,” he said, waving an outstretched hand toward the field.
“I know and it scares me. It truly does. I just hope we have the time to prepare them before it’s too late.”
“Me too. Oh, and speaking of laying down some justice, you missed out on Godfrey’s little demonstration the other day. That HIT device he’s built is one scary piece of work. We damn near burned down the campus.”
“I guess I can assume it works then,” Rod surmised.
Clark replaced the hat on his head and with his arms swinging in big circles; he reenacted the grenade’s explosive demonstration, including sound effects and frantic attempts to put out the flames. “It was, as Cory would say, ‘frickin’ awesome’,” he said, vigorously.
“It sounds like it. I’m sorry we missed it.”
“Hey Brother, I’ve got you covered,” Clark said, pulling a full-sized, Whitcomb manufactured grenade from his pocket. “Following the very startling, but impressive demo, I had him start making these just as fast as he can. I figured we’d show The Normals how they work. There’s no sense delaying their education.”
“Agreed, but we’ll have a devil of a time topping this lesson,” Rod suggested, nodding at the handheld grenade.
Clark grinned, creasing and accentuating wrinkles around both eyes, and replied, “Yes, my friend, we surely will.”
Chapter 12
Miles away, amid a rocky outcropping that was hiding them from prying eyes, Annie’s refugees rested from the night’s labored march. They had been forced further up the mountain than they wanted to venture, but staying clear of Juanita’s units had deemed it necessary. Pushing south, under the protective cover of darkness, had slowed their progress but kept them safe. Days into their escape, morale was high but with rations dwindling and no end in sight, patience was nearing extinction.
Ben viewed the landscape below their position for any sign of pursuers. He estimated the distance traveled and suspected them to be near the state border, but telling landmarks were nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder, rescuing him from thoughts of despair. He looked up to see Lena’s tired, but assuring smile. The two had melded their lives together years ago in Colorado, where they received the test vaccine allowing Lena to give birth. Time and circumstances had changed dramatically for the pair but not their life’s goal. Initially they had exhausted their meager resources in an attempt to reach the Oregon coast, but Lady Williams had stopped them cold, with an offer to work or die. The choice was simple…survive, raise their girl, and plot for the future. Annie’s timely intrusion had advanced their timetable, but with little warning they were now paying the price of a hasty departure.
“I’ve been hard on you. I’m sorry,” Lena said. She spoke the words, knowing they were true and she cringed. Running a trembling hand through her dirty, brown hair, she paused and waited for her husband’s reply. Tears welled up in th
e corners of her green eyes, eventually spilling down her cheeks. Red, and somewhat scorched by the West’s relentless sun, the moisture made her skin sting as the tears dripped from her chin.
“Don’t worry about it. This has been stressful on all of us.”
“What’s your best guess?” she asked, kneeling at his side.
“We can’t be far from the cut road, but I’m just not sure,” he said, the fatigue resounding in the timbre of his voice.
“Cut road?” she asked.
He turned from scanning the slopes and looked into her questioning stare. “Annie says there’s only one road that bisects this mountain range and it connects the farmland to the west with Logan. We’ve got to run smack dab into it, but we should have…I mean, we should be there by now.”
“You’re tired and perhaps Annie is mistaken. She’s not lookin’ very well, as it is.”
“We’re all tired, but Annie will be okay.”
“You think this place she’s talkin’ about is still there? What’d she call it…The Ward?”
“Yeah. Guess we’ll find out once we get there,” Ben confirmed, quietly.
“I’m feeling more and more that it’s a long shot. Too many years…they could’ve moved on, been killed or any number of different scenarios. Have you thought past that? What do we do if they’re gone?”
“Lena, I’m having a hard time just getting by day to day. I wish I could look beyond that…believe me, but for now, it’s the best I can give ya.”
“You need some rest. Why don’t you take a few hours while I keep watch?” she asked.
He rubbed at his windblown eyes, the action forcing a few salty tears down his face. “I think I’ll take you up on that. Is Brandi asleep?” he asked, his attention now focused on his daughter’s welfare.
“She dropped off as soon as she sat down. I hope we see something positive soon. The kids are really getting discouraged, but…”
The Lasting Hunger Page 10
