Eli stared at him, wondering if he should cut his throat and bury him or continue listening. McCulver had skills essential to the cause and had been a loyal friend for years. It bought him another minute of oxygen.
“You have a chance to make something big of this, and I’ll do whatever it takes to help. I just think we need to evaluate the possibility that this operation may not be a walk in the park. They might have left some men behind, especially if the guy in the Jeep is a high-value local.”
“Kevin, I feel like I’ve learned more about you in the last three days than the past twenty years. I made the right call bringing you on board after Campbell gave you the boot.”
“Harry doesn’t like explosives,” said McCulver.
“But I do, and I think we’ll need one of your special projects for tomorrow. Just in case we run into more than we bargained for,” Eli said. “I’m thinking the fifty pounder ought to do the job.”
“That’ll definitely do the job.”
Chapter 29
EVENT +66:19
Limerick, Maine
Alex collapsed onto the couch next to Kate, fighting to keep his eyes open. A warm shower and change of clothes had sapped him of any remaining energy. The soft glow of candles combined with the warm evening air threatened to knock him unconscious. All he wanted to do was close his eyes for a few hours, but the day wasn’t finished. His mother held up a coffee mug from the kitchen.
“Alex? Anyone?”
“No, thanks, Mom,” he said, reaching a sore arm out to grab a glass of water. He stopped halfway, not wanting to put the effort into leaning forward.
“Still that bad?” asked Ed, holding Samantha on the love seat across from them.
“I think I pulled my back out at some point, and my body just figured it out,” said Alex.
“You want to borrow my back brace?” Charlie offered.
“Thanks, but I popped a thousand milligrams of ibuprofen. I should be set through tomorrow,” said Alex. “I might need a kidney transplant, but that’s the least of my problems. Why don’t we get this rolling so we can get a few hours of sleep.”
“You guys can sleep in as late as you want. We can handle the security watch,” said Linda.
“I’ll pitch in for that,” said Charlie. “All I did was sleep next to the Jeep while they were getting shot up in Boston.”
“Don’t listen to SEAL Team Six over there. We wouldn’t have made it out of Maine without him,” Ed remarked.
“Exactly, which is why I wanted to have a talk before we shut down for the night,” Alex said. “We might have a more serious problem on our hands than any of us can imagine. I was only aware of one organized militia group based out of southern Maine, the York County Readiness Brigade. There’s a group out of Augusta that has members throughout the state, but they’re mostly focused in central Maine. We ran into something highly organized and heavily armed at Milton Mills. Called themselves the Maine Liberty Militia. I’ve never heard of it, and my contact at the York County group never mentioned it either.”
“What were they doing at the bridge?” Alex’s dad asked from his recliner.
“Blocking traffic, both ways, unless you were willing to pay a toll. Sound familiar?”
The women shook their heads slowly, looks of disgust flashing around the room.
“Not the same kind of toll, though I wouldn’t be surprised if that was involved too. The group guarding the bridge let you across if you gave up your car. We found a church a few miles back from the border. The parking lot contained at least a dozen out-of-state vehicles, mostly SUVs and minivans, which is why I suspect they are connected to the two that stopped you in Waterboro. A luxury SUV with Massachusetts plates?”
“Who in their right mind would give up a working car?” said Samantha.
“It’s nearly impossible to get into Maine unless you can prove that you’re a resident. They promised these people a ride to Sanford, where they could hopefully continue their journey unhampered by law enforcement. Apparently, the prospect of getting into Maine appeals to a lot of people. Based on what we saw spreading north from Boston, I can’t say I blame them.”
“It doesn’t sound like a fair trade, but it’s their choice,” Amy, Alex’s mom said. “How is this a problem for us?”
His parents were the only two that hadn’t received some kind of a debriefing from one of them. Most of their time after arriving had been spent hosting, gleaning a few details here and there from mostly private conversations.
“They didn’t drive anyone to Sanford. They executed the people in the forest behind the church,” said Charlie.
“That’s what we think,” Ed said.
Not this again.
“We found piles of gear in the church. Footwear, camping gear, jackets, electronics. They stripped the people clean and walked them into the forest. We found several child-sized backpacks in one of the piles.”
“I’m just saying,” Ed cut in, “until someone verifies the bodies, we don’t have proof. They might have shaken the people down for the rest of their stuff and sent them walking. Still a shitty deal…”
“You know that’s not what was going on.”
“I agree with Alex,” said Charlie.
Ed sighed. “All I’m trying to say is that we’ve all jumped to conclusions, some more than others, and it has the potential to put us all in danger.”
“Why are you saying this now?” said Alex, finding himself wide awake.
“Because I can finally think! I’m out of the pressure cooker. At least I thought I was. Now I have angry militia stalking the forests around me. What if they weren’t executing women and children in the forest? What if we killed the guys at the bridge for no reason, and now we’re at the top of their shit list?”
“I didn’t kill the guys at the bridge because they were executing civilians. I killed them because they chose to stand in the way of rescuing my son and your daughter,” he said, glaring at Ed.
Ed looked away for several moments while the words hung in the room.
“It was the right thing to do,” admitted Ed, running his hands through his hair. “I’m just exhausted. I didn’t think I’d come back to living in the Alamo. Sorry to get riled up like that. What do we need to do?”
“We’ll all feel a little less punchy after some sleep. Unfortunately, it’s not going to be as much as we all probably expected. I think we need to have at least half of the house up by 4:30 AM. Firing positions manned to cover 360 degrees, minimal lighting, all guns ready. We’ll need to stay like that until at least eight. If they attack, it’ll most likely come between those hours. If they make a move against us, they’ll probably use the early morning darkness to move into position, then spring the attack when the sun comes up.”
“What about the rest of the day?” Ed asked.
Alex knew his words might not go over very well with Ed, but he didn’t want to sugarcoat the truth. If Ed was going to have a problem living at the compound, he needed to know sooner than later, so they could adjust the plan. He hated to think like this, but the threat they faced was organized, lethal and depraved. A bad combination in Alex’s experience. They couldn’t afford to make any assumptions about the commitment level of anyone in the group. He’d never ask his friend to leave, but if Ed’s heart wasn’t in the fight, Alex would craft the plan around him. Nothing personal. Purely pragmatic.
“We’ll have to be extremely cautious. If we want to work outside, we’ll have to carry weapons and post pickets in the tree line, just in case they avoid the sensors. I say we stay close to the house, so we can get inside if the sensors pick up a threat or one of the pickets spots something. We have to work the garden. That’s non-negotiable. We’re in peak harvest time.”
“Sounds like prison. How long will we have to live like this?”
“Until the threat no longer exists. We might be able to get the marines to help us with that, given my new role. If this group represents a threat to the region’s stability,
I could make a strong case for destroying it.”
“What exactly is your new role, Alex?” said his father, eyeing him skeptically.
Alex decided to give them the short version, skipping the part about Homeland’s extensive data files. The information was classified anyway, “eyes only” for three members of Grady’s battalion at this point, so he didn’t feel guilty about concealing it.
“The commanding officer of the reserve Marine battalion down in Boston is an old friend. He served as one of my platoon commanders in Iraq. We were both injured by the same RPG outside of An-Nasiriyah. The situation in Boston required the battalion to withdraw and reform north. He thinks they’ll eventually pull back to Maine. Apparently, Maine has been designated as a priority recovery zone, which explains why we saw an immediate deployment of National Guard units at the major border crossing chokepoints. I guess they’re worried about militia groups starting trouble inside the recovery zone. He asked me to apply my knowledge of the Maine-based groups and provide a threat assessment.”
Kate looked at him sharply. “Does he want you to go out and visit these groups?”
“No. I can sit right here and do the work. They gave me a laptop, satellite communications gear, everything I need. It’s an easy gig.”
“Until it isn’t,” she said, “and the Marine Corps sends you wherever they think you’re needed.”
“It’s a provisional appointment. I’m more like a consultant. Colonel Grady did this as a favor,” said Alex.
“Sounds like you’re the one doing him the favor,” said Samantha.
“He gave us an armed escort back to Maine, and this position comes with benefits. I’m designated as a security/intelligence officer, which is one of the highest tiers,” he said, digging the provisional security card out of his pocket. “It gives me one of these, which I—we— can use to access significant resources. Unrestricted travel, hospital privileges, no more worrying about walking around with firearms. I can authorize any of our families to enter the recovery zone. Probably get them picked up and delivered. From what Grady said, Maine is about to become one of the most sought-after pieces of real estate in New England. This is kind of our golden ticket.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Charlie, followed by a swig of coffee.
“I don’t know,” said Kate. “Sorry to be a downer about this, but the sooner you get that work done and cut yourself off from the marines, the better off we’ll all be, especially if Maine becomes a recovery zone, or whatever it’s called.”
“Grady did this as a favor. It got us a ride back and a little insurance policy if things get wild. I’ll finish up the threat assessment, designate the Maine Liberty Militia as a critical threat to recovery zone stability, and we’ll all be able to sit back and relax while the marines hunt them down. Threat neutralized.”
“I hope you’re right, Alex,” said Kate.
“I’m only right when you say I’m right,” he said, eliciting a few stifled laughs. “Who’s on watch at 4 AM?”
“I’m on from two until six with Alyssa,” said Linda.
“All right. Why don’t you wake Kate, me, Ed and Charlie at 4:15. Have some coffee going and some snacks available.”
“I’ll get up and make sure everything is ready,” said Amy.
“You don’t have to do that,” countered Linda.
“I won’t be able to sleep anyway.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Well, if she’s up, I’m up,” said Tim Fletcher.
“Sounds like that’s all we’ll need. I like the idea of having all of our rifles available during those hours. It might make sense to modify the nighttime watch rotation to keep our rifles off the ten to two in the morning shift. Set it up so that one is in the two to six, and the rest get a reasonable night’s sleep in preparation for the dawn watch.”
Everyone signaled agreement by mumbling or nodding. The group was exhausted and needed to power down. Waking up tomorrow morning was assured to be miserable for the recently returned Boston group.
“Well, if Charlie’s too tired to talk, we should probably break this up and catch some sleep,” he said.
Everyone rose in unison, eager to put the day behind them.
“Prep your tactical gear and weapons before you lay down. Trust me. You don’t want to be fumbling around with that stuff at zero dark thirty. You should sleep in your clothes too. That includes sturdy footwear. I know that sounds crazy, but you’ll be thankful if something happens. Plus I’m pretty sure most of us could fall asleep on a bed of nails tonight. See you in the morning.”
A few minutes later, Kate caught Alex washing his face in the downstairs bathroom and closed the door.
“You again?”
“At least you’re cleaned up this time,” said Kate. “How is your shoulder?” She reached out and gently touched his right arm.
“Which one?”
“The bad one. You’re lucky you didn’t get more than a grazing,” she said, standing behind him and pressing her body into his.
“Ryan bailed me out of that one. He did an amazing job out there. Everyone did.”
“What happened with Chloe? She doesn’t seem herself. She barely looked at Ryan all night.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Alex said, leaning backward into her. “She froze on the bridge. Complete lock down. Ryan was hit carrying her to the other side on his back. She’s a little embarrassed. That’s all.”
“She always seemed really sturdy. Nothing else happened?”
“Not that I’m aware of. She needs a little time and distance. We’ll need to make sure Ryan respects that.”
“And doesn’t feel like he did anything wrong,” she added. “Ed sounded like he might go for round two of the blame game. If he’s doing that right to your face, who knows what he’s saying to his kids behind closed doors?”
“Ed has a bad habit of second-guessing everyone’s decisions and input. It’s his quirk, and I’ve learned to work around it while keeping an ear open. He comes up with some good ideas. Ed functions best when he’s taking orders or making his own decisions. He saved my bacon again.”
“How many times did you need saving?”
“More than I’d care to admit. We’d be dead if it wasn’t for the marines. For Colonel Grady.”
“I didn’t mean to come down hard on you for that. I’m just nervous about the whole arrangement.”
“I’m a little nervous about it too. Ed’s hit the nail on the head,” said Alex.
“About what?”
“Being out of the pressure cooker long enough to think straight. Accepting Grady’s offer sounded pretty damn good with the city falling apart around us and a Boston militia unit chasing me down.”
“You pissed off more than one militia group?”
“Look who’s talking,” he said, drying his face with a towel.
“I guess we need to steer clear of any militia groups from now on,” said Kate, kissing his neck.
Alex turned around and put his hands on Kate’s lower back, pulling her into him while kissing her passionately. They grasped each other tightly, lowering their hands until Kate pulled back.
“There’s a line outside of the door,” she whispered into his ear.
“What?” he hissed. “Are you serious? And here I was thinking this might be the one place we could get some privacy.”
“We kissed privacy goodbye when we invited two families to join us.”
“Maybe they could all stay in the barn. They’d have a wood-burning stove.”
She squeezed his bottom. “Or we’ll just have to make better use of our 22 acres.”
“Not until those crazies are gone,” he said and kissed her. “See you up in our communal bedroom.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“I know.”
Chapter 30
EVENT +71:11
Limerick, Maine
Alex opened his eyes to pitch darkness. He lay on his back next to Kate, which was the extent of his s
ituational awareness. A cool, pine-scented breeze poured over his face, providing the first clue. He gently worked his left hand from under Kate’s head, careful not to wake her up, and checked his watch. 4:11. His alarm had been set for 4:15. It took him a few seconds to figure out why. Shit. He could use about eight more hours of sleep—and some real painkillers. The ibuprofen had clearly worn off overnight.
He pushed his torso up with his left hand, finding himself sore along the left side of his body, extending through his abdomen. He felt like he had done a few hundred atomic sit-ups right before retiring for the night. For a moment, he seriously doubted his ability to get out of bed without help. He lay there, considering his next move, when the back of his right thigh cramped, locking him in position on the bed. He extended his leg and fought the muscle spasm for a few minutes, until he was sure it had passed.
Not a good start to the day.
Kate hadn’t moved throughout the ordeal, presenting Alex’s next challenge. How in the hell was he supposed to wake his wife up at 4:00 in the morning? She was a notoriously deep sleeper, barely functional until two cups of dark roast coursed through her system. He’d wait as long as possible before attempting to stir her.
Alex grabbed his flashlight from the nightstand and illuminated the room. Nobody shifted—of course. They had all inherited their mother’s morning gene. He walked around the bed, careful not to step on Emily, who lay in a sleeping bag between the full-size bed and the elevated air mattress supporting Ryan. The room had been reconfigured to accommodate a sandbag position facing the backyard. The bed, normally under the backyard window, had been pushed across the room against the opposite interior walls. They had done the same in all of the rooms, hastily rearranging couches, beds, end tables and chairs to free up space for sheet metal and sandbags. Ed was right. The house had been transformed into the Alamo.
The door cracked; Charlie Thornton poked his face through the opening.
“I couldn’t sleep either,” he said. “Brought some coffee for your wife. Linda said she’d need it.”
THE ALEX FLETCHER BOXSET: Books 1-5 Page 88
