by Akart, Bobby
“What did the sheriff want?”
“The old couple at the adjacent farm had their car stolen this afternoon. He wasn’t accusing anyone, but it’s part of his job to check with the surrounding residents to see if they’d seen anything. I think he was also curious and was using the car theft as an excuse to look around. We sent him on his way since he didn’t have a warrant.”
“Jesus,” said Delta as he began to aimlessly walk around the room while rubbing his hands through his hair. “He stole a car. I mean, what the hell?”
Alpha’s radio squawked to life and the room became silent as he spoke to Bravo. “Go ahead.”
“There’s nothing out of the ordinary at HB-1 other than a go-bag missing from one of the lockers. I’m checking with the team to see if anyone pulled it for some reason.”
“Are all the quads there?”
“Affirmative.”
Alpha signed off and returned the radio to his utility belt. “Delta, Ethan has a charger now and can be reached by phone. I suggest you try to call him.”
Delta nodded and pulled his cell phone out. He called several times, but his son didn’t pick up the call. He left messages each time and then added text messaging to his contact attempts.
He shrugged and then collapsed into a chair in front of Ryan’s desk. “What should I do? I mean, I’ve gotta go find him, right?”
Cort spoke up. “Listen, I don’t profess to know anything about teenage boys from a dysfunctional family. Please, I don’t mean to be insulting, just truthful. But you’d never find him out there. Maybe he’s heading back home. Maybe he’s decided to go to Florida for the winter. All I know is this. There’s a frightened little girl out there that needs your help. I have one of those and I understand them. She needs her daddy and doesn’t deserve to be abandoned while you go on a wild-goose chase.”
“That’s pretty blunt, Cort,” said Delta angrily. “He’s my son.”
“Yes, and from what you’ve relayed to us all, he’s also very independent. Listen, I’m just throwing in my two cents’ worth. If you wanna go after him, by all means, go. We’ll take care of Skylar. But if you’re gonna chase after him to Philly, where the power outage is wreaking havoc, and take that young girl with you… Well, to me, as a dad, that’s the height of irresponsibility.”
The men in the room allowed Cort’s words to linger. It was tough talk, but perhaps it was what Delta needed to hear.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Cofer Road
South Richmond, Virginia
Ethan Hightower was dejected and scared. He’d driven a little over half of his five-hundred-mile journey when the Oldsmobile he’d stolen developed a loud ticking sound under the hood. He didn’t know anything about cars. The Olds was hard to drive at times because it was larger than his mom’s Toyota, but he quickly got the hang of it.
It was much faster than his mom’s car. When there was a clear stretch of highway, the opposite of the busy southbound lane of I-95, Ethan opened up the throttle, allowing the gas-guzzling Oldsmobile to reach ninety miles an hour. He cranked up the radio, rolled down the windows, and searched for a functioning radio station to listen to. He was having the ride of his life and he intended to enjoy every moment.
The car’s motor hadn’t been tested like that in two decades, and the oil gaskets were none too happy. Soon, a leak developed, and as Ethan squandered gas, the engine lost its oil.
He’d made it to South Richmond and pulled off at an exit in search of a gas station. With only a few dollars and some loose change he’d found in the glove box, he hoped to pay for some gas and steal the rest. He never got the chance.
He turned west off the interstate and drove around in search of an open gas station. He smiled as he saw the lights of the Emerald Fast Mart near Cofer Road. The Olds limped toward the station; the pinging sound of the engine had now turned into a full-blown clatter.
Just as he entered the parking lot, the motor seized and shut down. All of the lights on his dashboard lit up with various shades of red and yellow, indicating the death of the Oldsmobile. Ethan sat there in disbelief. He turned off the ignition and tried to start the motor. It wouldn’t turn over, prompting him to beat the steering wheel in anger.
“Now what am I supposed to do?” he asked aloud as he studied his surroundings. There were no cars at the fuel pumps of the convenience store, but there were certainly plenty of patrons milling about the entrance. Young men carried on animated conversations amidst clouds of cigarette smoke. Brown paper bags with the necks of beer or liquor bottles were in their hands as they argued about world events or sports or the weather.
Ethan didn’t know or care. He needed help, so he approached the men. Shy and unsure, Ethan finally mustered the courage to speak to the men, who’d given him the once-over but didn’t acknowledge him.
“Hey, um, do you guys know anything about cars? Mine broke down and I think—”
One of the men cut him off before he could finish. “Man, we don’t care nothin’ ’bout you or your busted-up old car. Go ahead on and don’t go bustin’ in on our conversation.”
The rest of the men started laughing and toasted their liquor bottles together, allowing the loud clink of glass to put an exclamation point on the man’s admonition to Ethan.
Ethan—young, naïve, and idealistic—persisted. “Come on, guys. I’m from out of town. My mom is missing, and I could use a break.”
One of the men grinned, his gold teeth glimmering in the fluorescent light shining from the gas station’s canopy. He was the largest of the group and appeared to be the drunkest. He spun the cap onto his bottle of wine and forcefully shoved it into the chest of the first man who’d addressed Ethan. He was flexing the fingers on his right hand as he stood a little taller and approached Ethan.
“Look here, man. You don’t listen too well.”
The man had a swagger, a side-to-side swaying movement, as he walked toward Ethan. Ethan stepped back, but it was too late. A right fist connected with his jaw, spinning him around like a top until he landed facedown on the oil-covered pavement.
Ethan tried to raise his arm to beg the man to stop, but his plea for mercy was ignored. Egged on by his drunk friends, the heavyset man kicked his size fourteen Air Jordans repeatedly into the side of Ethan’s body, knocking the wind out of the boy and likely fracturing several ribs.
Ethan couldn’t breathe. He tried to crawl away, occasionally looking up for someone, anyone, to come to his aid. He was alone except for the pack of attackers, who were driven insane by the blood gushing out of Ethan’s mouth.
Suddenly, the large man stopped kicking him. Instead, he grabbed Ethan by the jacket and stood him upright. He wrapped his arms under Ethan’s armpits and held him tight against his chest.
The rest of the men took turns punching and kicking Ethan, battering the fifteen-year-old’s body beyond recognition. When the attack was over, his shoes and jacket were taken, as were his cell phone and the few dollars from his pockets.
His body was left unconscious on the cold, dark concrete next to a dumpster in South Richmond, Virginia. Ethan Hightower’s day was done.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Front Gate
The Haven
It was dark when Hayden pulled up to the front gate of the Haven. Several guards stood at attention with their weapons slightly raised. The appearance of her truck immediately placed them on alert. To assuage their apprehension, Hayden rolled down her window and yelled to the guards, “Don’t shoot. I’m Hayden Blount.”
Alpha’s baritone voice bellowed back to her, “Foxy! It’s about time!”
“Yeah, well, traffic was bad. How’re ya doin’, Alpha?”
A flashlight lit up her face, and then another appeared at the passenger side of the Range Rover, drawing an angry hiss from an inhospitable Prowler.
“Just fine,” he responded as he stopped just short of sticking his head in her window.
Hayden immediately cautioned him. “I wouldn’t
do that if I were you. Prowler didn’t take too kindly to the last guy who stuck his head through a window. There are still pieces of his face inside here.”
Alpha let out a hearty laugh. “Yeah, sure. From that furball.”
Hayden shrugged and leaned back in her seat. “Okay, big guy. Go ahead. Give it a try. Stick your head in and try to grab me.”
By this point, Prowler was in full defensive mode and was standing on the passenger seat with his back arched. Alpha wisely chose not to test Prowler’s mettle.
He declined. “Nah, it’s too late to wrestle cats. We haven’t gotten much sleep around here.”
“Have you had trouble?” she asked, looking ahead impatiently, as she was ready to find her cabin and curl up under the covers.
“No, not really. We’ve had a few issues, but nothing we couldn’t handle. I hate to have you do this, but we’ve got a protocol to follow, you know. I need you to step out of the truck while we do a quick search.”
“I get it,” said Hayden as she noticed a guard approaching her vehicle with a German shepherd on a leash. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Rex, one of our bomb-sniffing dogs.”
“Seriously? Bomb-sniffing.”
“Not really, although maybe. He was a former law enforcement K-9. One of two trained dogs here at the Haven now. Um, you might want to keep Prowler safe.”
Now it was Hayden’s opportunity to burst out laughing. “From that?” she asked, pointing at the shepherd. “It’s the other way around, trust me.”
She motioned for Prowler to join her, and he quickly made his way across the console and crawled into her arms. As she walked past Alpha, Prowler’s eyes lowered and glared at the large man.
“Jeez, he is a killer, isn’t he?” asked Alpha.
“You bet he is.”
Hayden waited patiently until Alpha’s team gave him the thumbs-up. “Okay, Foxy, you’re good to go. I’ll let Ryan and Blair know you’ve arrived. She said you guys were on a call when something went down.”
“Yeah, and somehow I stomped on my phone during the melee. Let her know I’m here and safe. I assume we still have our regular morning briefings at the barn?”
“Absolutely,” replied Alpha. “Bring your weapons and ammo, and we’ll get them secured for you. Plus, we’ve picked up some new artillery since we saw each other last. We’ll get you checked out on it tomorrow sometime. Obviously, we’ve had to limit our range practice due to circumstances.”
Hayden and Alpha bumped fists. It was a rite of passage that occurred every time she’d come to the Haven. It was the point where she transitioned from being Hayden Blount, the president’s legal counsel, to Foxtrot, one of the defenders of the Haven.
She loaded Prowler back into the truck and made her way down the dark gravel roads. The tires crunched on the melted and then refrozen snow. As she passed the cabins on the main drive, she noticed lights were on inside almost all of them. Her remaining headlight reflected off the license plates from many states east of the Mississippi, from Florida to New York. She rounded a bend, and then the sight of one particular vehicle caused her to slam on the brakes, forcing Prowler to dig his claws into the leather seats to stop from tumbling onto the floorboard of the truck.
“Well, would you look at that?” she asked as she stared at the GMC Yukon with the blood-red-painted hood. “Hello, and Godspeed to you, too.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Front Gate
The Haven
Richmond SWAT eventually showed up at the intersection near the Rankin home, and the enemy combatants who’d squared off for nearly an hour fled in all directions. Even the Guardian Angels, who ordinarily were praised by law enforcement for their nonviolent approach to neighborhood watch, decided not to stick around for the inevitable questioning by police. In anticipation of a dangerous physical confrontation with the various factions brought together to wreak havoc on Richmond, many of the members wielded weapons ranging from stun guns to pepper spray. They did not, however, break out their firearms.
After the uproar subsided, Tyler approached his vehicles, full of apprehension. He’d prepared himself for the worst case, which included his new truck being vandalized and his belongings stolen. When he arrived at the truck-trailer combination, he shook his head in disbelief. Through it all, his trucks hadn’t received so much as a scratch.
The family had packed everything they thought they’d need, and Tyler expertly loaded the vehicles, maximizing every available square foot of space. Tyler and Angela focused on the basics—food, water, medical supplies, and bedding.
They also packed small appliances and things that might come in handy in the event they would be there for an extended stay. The kids brought games, Tyler loaded up tools, and Angela focused on hygiene. As a doctor, she recognized that bacteria, if left unchecked, could be just as deadly as a bullet. Once their things were loaded, the family stood in the foyer and said goodbye to their home.
It was near midnight, forty-eight hours after the attacks, when they pulled up to the front gate of the Haven. Before he addressed the guards, his mind wandered back to Richmond and those final moments in the home they loved.
“Mom, do you think we’ll come back?” asked J.C.
“Of course, honey. I hope this is temporary and I hate that we even have to do it. But nothing is more important than our family.”
“I know, Mom,” said J.C. with a slight whine. “But all of our things are here, and Dad said the trucks are full.”
Tyler placed his arm around J.C.’s shoulder and gave his son a squeeze. “Hey, no worries, buddy. We can replace things and houses. But we can’t replace Rankins.”
Everyone allowed the statement to soak in for a moment, and without another word, they loaded up in the truck for their new adventure.
Remarkably, unlike other travelers on that day, their trip south to Henry River Mill Village was uneventful. The oversized fuel tank gave Tyler plenty of gasoline to make the three-hundred-mile trek. Angela carefully monitored Tyler’s emergency radio and the Bearcat scanner to listen to first responders being dispatched. That enabled them to avoid the bedlam that had overtaken Durham, North Carolina. Taking back roads delayed their travels by about an hour, but at least they arrived alive.
After a brief delay at the gate while the security team checked out their trucks, the Rankins pulled into their cabin located on the bank of the Henry River. All of the lights were off in the nearby cabins except for the one immediately adjacent to them.
“Look, we have a neighbor now,” began Tyler, pointing to their right as they made their way along the wet gravel road. “I never thought they’d sell that cabin to anyone.”
“Why’s that, Dad?” asked Kaycee.
“Supposedly, it’s haunted,” replied Tyler. “Your mom and I thought that would be kinda cool, but it was only a one bedroom, so we took the one next door instead.”
“Yeah,” interjected a now wide-awake J.C., who’d slept the entire trip. “A ghost house would’ve been the best.” J.C. turned in his seat and slid onto his knees so he could crane his neck to look at the allegedly haunted cabin.
“What do you think, Mom?” asked Kaycee.
Angela looked in her side-view mirror at the dimly lit cabin and the black conversion van with trailer parked at its side. “Yeah, Peanut, I bet it’s full of spooks and boogeymen.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Haven House
The Haven
“Just another day in paradise, right?” asked Ryan as he tried to find a place in a bed full of girls. Invariably, he was the last one to make his way to bed at night. Once Blair had her spot and the two sixty-some-pound bulldogs staked their claim on the perfect place to sleep, Ryan had to make do with what was left. It was a game of Twister that he never tired of playing.
“Ryan, I like Delta, I really do. But we don’t need this kind of drama.”
“I understand.”
“I mean, here’s the thing. I’m not a kid person,
don’t get me wrong. And I get that he hasn’t had a lot of practice over the last couple of years. Still, shouldn’t he have made an effort to make sure his two offspring were safely tucked into bed at their cabin? It’s not like he lives twenty miles away, for Pete’s sake.”
“Honey, I can’t disagree. We both suggested that he bring them to the house. Now I’ve got a problem. Ethan has run off, stealing a car in the process. That brings unwanted attention to the Haven from the sheriff.”
Blair sat up in bed and gritted her teeth. “Not to mention that we don’t know where Delta’s head’s at. Cort was shooting straight with him, and I appreciate it. But will Delta follow the advice or resent his bluntness? And will he ask us to babysit Skylar while he gallivants off to Philly?”
“I don’t know,” said a stressed Ryan.
Blair wasn’t finished. “Plus, Ryan, what if he doesn’t come back? You’ve heard the stories from the Cortlands and Sheltons. It’s getting worse, and now it appears that some puppet master, or maybe several, is pulling the strings.”
Ryan propped his head up on a pillow. “Like Leland Gaunt.”
“Yes, for once you’re right, Mr. Smart.”
Ryan fell back on the pillows and began to laugh. The girls both stretched and groaned a little bit. It was their way of politely telling their parents it was time to go to sleep.
Ryan thought for a moment and then he said, “Sometimes, I hate it when I’m right.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
X-Ray’s Cabin
The Haven
The only light in X-Ray’s cabin came from the bluish glow of his computer monitors. He’d sat there, staring mindlessly at the screen, for the better part of an hour. As Ryan had requested, he’d been compiling information from news sources around the country and creating a daily report of conditions on the ground, together with the government’s response. It was a logical task that needed to be performed, and X-ray was the right guy for the job.
