by Bobby Akart
Cort sighed. “It was based upon a conversation I had with my father-in-law some time back. It was a good idea, especially considering what I know about the nation-states that hate us. However, my wife was going through a period in which she didn’t want her father, quote, meddling, unquote, in our lives.” Cort gestured with both hands to create air quotes.
“Daughters can be like that, I guess,” added Ryan.
Cort shrugged and continued. “One day when I found myself stuck in an airport waiting on a delayed flight, I was bouncing around Facebook, looking at preparedness groups, and I saw someone mention the Haven. They provided a link to another page that discussed the concept in general terms, but never disclosed the location. I liked the idea, and based upon my father-in-law’s suggestion, I followed up with a direct message. I never heard anything again for weeks and had frankly forgotten about it.”
Ryan hesitated and then smiled. He leaned over and lowered his voice. “Well, we didn’t forget about you. Please don’t be offended at this, but, Cort, after your inquiry, Blair began to conduct some research on you and your family. We vet everyone that shows an interest for the reasons I said a minute ago and to make sure you’ll coalesce with the group as a whole. By the time she reached out to you to pursue your inquiry, we’d compiled a pretty extensive file on you guys and determined you’d be a great fit for the Haven.”
Cort leaned against the passenger seat and studied Ryan. “What did you say you did before you started this project? Counterintelligence?”
Ryan laughed. “Yeah, right. I’d never pass their vetting process. No, Blair and I are students of reality television. The best way to learn about your fellow man is to take them out of their comfort zone and place them under the microscope of a camera. Pretty soon, you learn what they’re all about. We kinda do the same thing with our recruits.”
Cort adjusted his seat and nodded. “Yeah, I see.”
“Ryan, our process was intrusive and an invasion of privacy. But lives are at stake, including ours. If we bring the wrong person through those gates for an interview and reject them, they might come back with a larger group and try to take what we have. We’ve only rejected a few families, most recently on New Year’s Eve. It’s the kind of thing that keeps me up at night. Concealment is our friend.”
Ryan wheeled the Ranger down the hill toward the banks of the Henry River. He pointed ahead to X-Ray’s cabin. Seconds later, he pulled up to the front door and X-Ray emerged onto the porch.
“Come on, Cort. I want you to meet our newest addition.”
X-ray waved and motioned for them to come inside. “Hey, guys! It’s a lot warmer in here. I’m working on that barbed-wire phone project I was telling you about.”
“Barbed-wire phone?” asked Cort with a puzzled look on his face.
Ryan laughed and motioned for Cort to lead the way. “Yeah, X-Ray is our resident tech nerd. Is that fair to say?”
X-Ray shrugged and laughed. “Well, I guess if you call an old-school, wild-wild-west telephone system technology, then you’re right.”
Once they were inside, Cort marveled at the extensive spread of electronics, monitors and computer systems that filled the cabin. X-Ray began the introductions by shaking Cort’s hand.
X-Ray was in a jovial mood. “My name is Eugene O’Reilly, but everybody calls me X-Ray, even before I arrived at the Haven.”
“Like the corporal on M*A*S*H?” asked Cort. “I used to watch that show as a kid.”
“That’s right. It’s kind of a long story. It’s a nickname my grandfather gave me, and I guess I grew into it, sorta.”
“X-ray, this is Michael Cortland. He’s from Mobile but works in Washington for a senator.”
Cort towered over X-Ray. “Everyone calls me Cort. It’s a nickname I’ve been stuck with for a long time.”
X-ray’s demeanor suddenly changed. He turned tense and began rubbing his fingers on his palms. Neither Cort nor Ryan noticed his nervousness.
“Nice to meet you, Cort,” said X-ray as he quickly turned his back to his guests. “Um, let me show you what I’ve got going on with the, um, phone design.”
He sat down in a chair at his computer and powered up a screen that contained a schematic of the Haven’s perimeter. It identified the river boundary as well as the existing block walls. Just as X-Ray was about to explain, Ryan’s phone rang.
“Excuse me, guys. I need to take this.”
“Okay,” mumbled X-Ray.
Ryan politely stepped away from the computers and wandered toward the fire. “Go ahead, Bravo.”
He began to pace. “Why?
“How many? Six? That’s overkill, don’t you think?
“Does he have a—?
“No, hell no. Don’t let him in. Tell him… You know what, hang on. I’ll be there in a minute and tell him myself.”
Ryan disconnected the call and turned to a curious Cort. “Cort, we need to head over to the front gate. X-Ray, I’m sorry, but this’ll have to wait.”
X-Ray spun around in his chair and held both hands in the air. “Hey, no problem. You know where to find me. Um, nice to meet you, Cort.”
Cort waved goodbye and darted out the door to catch up with Ryan, who was already getting into the Ranger.
*****
X-Ray followed Cort to the door and quickly closed it behind him. Then he made his way to the edge of the window frame and peered around the corner, watching the Ranger make its way up the hill and under the tree canopy that covered the gravel trail.
He exhaled, breathing normally for the first time in several minutes. He furiously rubbed his hands on his jeans to dry his sweaty palms. After wiping his brow on his sleeve, he began pacing the floor.
After a minute, he took a deep breath and made his way to the fireplace. He stood on the hearth and wiggled the fireplace mantel until it loosened on its brackets. X-Ray glanced once more toward the front window, and satisfied Ryan hadn’t returned, he took the mantel off the stone wall, revealing a missing river rock the size of his fist.
Another deep breath later, he set the mantel aside and retrieved a ZTE flip phone from the small space. The Tracphone was one of several in his possession that he’d purchased from a Walmart on the way to the Haven. The untraceable burner phones, as they were called, allowed him to create an anonymous phone account with a number from anywhere in the world. This particular phone was assigned a 307 area code that was somewhere in Wyoming.
X-Ray ran his thumb across the numbers of the flip phone. He closed his eyes and steadied his nerves. He opened the text message app and began to type. He had to choose his words carefully so they weren’t misconstrued.
The eagle’s mark is in sight.
X-Ray set the phone down on his dining table as if it had shocked him with ten thousand volts. The device spun around in a circle for a moment before stopping.
Now he waited. Will they respond? I’ve done what I was supposed to do, right?
He paced the floor again, waiting for a response. He was hovering nervously near the front window, fearful that Ryan and Cort would return unexpectedly. He contemplated replacing the hearth and simply hiding the burner phone somewhere more accessible. Or perhaps he’d just throw it in the Henry River, never to be seen again. That would be an easy solution.
Except he’d already sent the text. The door was open. You couldn’t delete a sent text.
The eagle’s mark…
Buzzzz.
A response. X-Ray hesitated at first; then he walked to the table. He didn’t touch the phone, as if somehow his fingerprints would implicate him in something sinister. He turned his head sideways in order to look at the display head-on.
Tell no one.
Will advise.
Godspeed, Patriot.
MM
Chapter 44
Front Gate
The Haven
“Do you want me to handle this so you don’t have to get your hands dirty?” asked Cort. “I’d hate to see my Yale law degree go t
o waste just because of the apocalypse.”
Ryan smiled. “Nah, I know this guy. Sheriff Bragg has been pretty nosy from the day we started building the block walls around our perimeter. It seemed the more we closed off our property, the more he felt he had a right to know what’s going on.”
“It’s kinda like driving down a country road and you suddenly come across the iron gate and you wanna know what’s behind it,” added Cort.
“Exactly. Nobody needs to know the extent of our preps, even the local sheriff. What puzzles me is why he felt the need to bring two carloads of deputies with him.”
“Intimidation,” Cort quickly responded. “It’s a classic technique when law enforcement investigators are trying to bull their way into a place they don’t belong. He doesn’t have a warrant, and mere speculation is insufficient to enter your private property. By bringing a show of force, he hopes you’ll be afraid to back down.”
Ryan laughed as they approached the gate. “Wrongo.” He parked the Ranger, and the two men quickly exited to join the standoff between Bravo, Charlie, and Burke County’s finest.
“Good afternoon, Sheriff,” Ryan greeted in a monotone voice.
“Mr. Smart,” the sheriff responded, together with a tip of his hat. “This doesn’t have to turn into a big production. We’re conducting an investigation of a crime in the area, and we’d like to take a look around.”
“My people said you wouldn’t be specific about what it is you expect to find here.”
“Well, it’s an ongoing investigation,” the sheriff replied.
“I understand, but what does that have to do with us?” asked Ryan. “We’ve not reported anything to the sheriff’s office.”
The sheriff pressed on. “We have reason to believe that someone from your—” he hesitated before continuing “—your community, um, might have some knowledge of a reported theft on an adjacent farm.”
Cort detected the sheriff’s hesitancy and the way he spoke the word community. He decided to step in. “Sheriff, I’m an attorney. I understand you don’t have a warrant, am I correct?”
“Yes, for now, but—”
Cort cut him off. “Do you have someone that you’d specifically like to speak with?”
“Well, no.”
“And do you have anyone that is a specific target of your investigation?”
“No, not yet. But we would like to take a look around and speak—”
Cort was unafraid to challenge the sheriff’s authority. He turned and swung his left arm around behind him, prompting the sheriff and his deputies to look past where Cort and Ryan were standing.
“Is there anything visible to you that constitutes evidence or might be associated with the crime you’re investigating.”
“No, of course not,” he replied sheepishly.
The sheriff backed down and his shoulders slumped. Cort inwardly smiled as he recognized the sheriff’s look of defeat.
Ryan tried to pry out the purpose of the sheriff’s intrusion. “Look, Sheriff Bragg, I don’t want to appear unreasonable, but these are trying times, and we’d like to maintain our privacy. If you’ll just let me know what happened, we’d both be glad to look into it and report anything we find.”
The sheriff kicked at some loose gravel and then slowly approached the gate. He lowered his voice, forcing Ryan and Cort to come closer.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” he began. “An old couple who owns the farm immediately adjacent to your property reported a stolen vehicle a little while ago. We wanted to canvass the area quickly in the event we could locate it and the thief before they got away. I, um, understand that you’ve got a lot of new faces around here, and I thought, well, maybe somebody knew something.”
“Sheriff, I can assure you that none of these fine people are car thieves,” said Ryan reassuringly. “In fact, we have more cars than we need. Heck, with the gas shortages being reported, all of our cars may be replaced by the horse and buggy soon.”
Ryan’s folksy approach and humor helped defuse the unnecessarily tense situation. The sheriff saw an opening.
“So you’ll let us come in and take a look around?”
Ryan chuckled. “Um, no. I didn’t say that. But I promise you we’ll conduct our own investigation, and if anything comes of it, we’ll gladly turn over any car thieves to law enforcement.”
“You can’t ask for much more than that, right, Sheriff?” Cort encouraged the sheriff to see it their way.
“I suppose you’re right.” The sheriff tipped his hat and raised his arm in the air, circling his index finger, indicating to his deputies they should load up and leave.
After they pulled away, Ryan gave instructions to Bravo and Charlie before pulling Cort aside. “Do you think there’s any truth to that? I mean, was he just making up a reported theft to get his foot in the door?”
Cort grimaced and shrugged. “I don’t know. I kinda doubt it. I mean, was there a car theft? Probably. But I got the sense he wanted to snoop more than he wanted to investigate a theft.”
Ryan nodded. “Yeah, me too.”
Chapter 45
Sheltons’ Cabin
The Haven
“Tom! Tom!” Donna emerged from the bedroom, still groggy from a fitful two-hour nap. Sleep came easily, initially; then the dreams began. One’s personality and their interaction with the world typically determines the contents of the dreams. For Donna, her dreams were used by her brain to subconsciously organize and compartmentalize her memories, thoughts, and interactions. This time, her dreams were more creative. They took bits and pieces of the day’s events, from the attack in Richmond to the angry mob chasing them through Durham. Only, in her dreams, she and Tom weren’t successful in avoiding the attackers.
When she awoke and found Tom missing from the cabin, she immediately became concerned. It was a small space consisting of a single bedroom filled with two full-size beds and a variety of furniture to hold their belongings. The simple bathroom included a toilet, a pedestal sink, and a stand-up shower. The remainder of the space was open with the kitchen, dining, and living areas part of a single room.
Tom had started a fire as soon as they arrived, and the wood-burning stove generated so much heat that Donna considered slightly opening the windows. Instead, she found her way to the front door to look for her husband.
Tom was returning from the front yard as a vehicle was pulling away. When he saw her standing in the doorway, he hustled up the steps of the porch to join his wife.
“Hey, I thought you’d still be sleeping.”
“No, um. I had a dream. Who was that?”
“That was Echo and his wife. Do you remember—?”
“Of course,” replied Donna. “Very nice people. In fact, they were the only ones that were close to our age, not that it seems to matter to anyone here.”
Tom laughed as he escorted his wife back into their cabin. She’d left the door ajar, allowing some of the cold air in, or the heat to escape, whichever the laws of thermodynamics allowed.
“I remember when I broached the subject of age with Ryan,” began Tom as he backed his fanny to the woodstove and warmed his backside. “By the way, did you know he’s sixty?”
“Really? You can’t tell.”
“Yeah, lucky guy. Anyway, he quoted Mark Twain, of all people. He said age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”
Donna laughed. “Men can think like that. You guys look better with age. Women see it differently. We see our glory years slipping away.”
Tom shook his head and approached his wife. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. “Glory years?”
Donna shyly looked down. “You know, when I was healthy and had smooth skin and, um, all my teeth.”
Tom burst out in laughter. “Good Lord, Mrs. Shelton. You act like you’ve got one foot in the grave. We’ve already cheated death. Let’s not welcome it back in based upon a few wrinkles and a couple of missing molars.”
A
few tears streamed down her cheeks and she held her husband close to hide her angst. He felt like something was wrong inside her, but she didn’t want to unduly concern him. They’d been through a lot since New Year’s Eve. She felt responsible for it all.
She was the one who insisted they take the ill-fated trip to New York at that time of year. She knew better than to put them in such a position considering the times they lived in. And to top it off, she inwardly chastised herself, she’d dragged her husband down to Times Square, ground zero for the terrorist attack on the city.
“Hey, hey. Don’t be sad, dear. Is there something else?”
She wiped her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweater and patted him gently on the chest. “No, not at all. It’s just, um, I’m glad we’re safe. And, Tom, I really do feel safe here.”
“That’s good. These are good people.”
Donna pulled away and yanked a Kleenex out of the box sitting on a side table. “I look forward to seeing Echo and his wife tomorrow. I hope the—”
“Well, let me mention this,” Tom interrupted. “Now, you may not be up for it, but they were on their way over to the main house. Ryan and Blair have been having some casual get-togethers at suppertime. You know, potluck type of stuff. She knows we’re tired and by no means would be expected to bring anything, but we are invited to join them.”
“When?” she asked.
Tom began to take off his jacket as he replied, “Anytime. I suspect Ryan opens up the bar for cocktails beforehand.”
Donna didn’t hesitate. “I’m there. Let me grab my coat.”
Maybe a drink was just what the doctor would order for her melancholy mood.
Chapter 46
Haven House
The Haven
Echo and his wife, Charlotte, were the first to arrive, as always. Charlotte loved to cook and enjoyed playing the role of the grandmother figure at the Haven. She and Blair had a close relationship, often having long conversations about what life would look like after a collapse event. They both agreed the Haven offered them the best chance to have a normal life.
