Lazarus stepped into the dining room and plopped down on a chair at the opposite end of the table from where the others were sitting. With his plate hovering over his lap, he casually tossed his feet on another chair nearby and began eating with his hands.
Lauren’s brows drew together as she scrutinized him. “Make yourself at home.”
Lazarus stuffed two strips of bacon in his mouth, licked his fingertips and started to chew. “Isn’t that what I just did?”
She shook her head at him distastefully and looked away. “You are a piece of work.”
“Look who’s talking,” he said, his eyebrows dancing, chewing his food with his mouth agape. He motioned to Dave. “She gets cuter every time she says something.”
Dave took possession of the percolator. “You should see her operate a battle rifle. It might have an abating effect on your impression.”
“On the contrary,” replied Lazarus. “Being witness to that could result in something more along the lines of…arousal.”
Lauren dropped her fork to the table. “Are you done?”
Lazarus slowly shook his head with a tantalizing grin. “Nope. I’m just getting started.”
The group ate together mostly in silence from that point forward, while only sharing the occasional anecdote. While some enjoyed second helpings, Lauren and Woo Tang cleared off portions of the table, washed and rinsed some of Ruth’s dishes, and returned to their seats amidst a discussion in progress.
“Oh, shit. I almost forgot again, Graham. Something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Lazarus pulled a tattered sheet of lined paper from an interior pocket of his field jacket and glided it across the table in Dave’s direction. “We got a message from your guy the other day…I meant to give it to you yesterday, but it slipped my mind.”
“The other day?” Dave griped.
“Yepper,” Lazarus said. “Picked him up on the AmRRON frequency on forty meters, which surprised the hell out of me, as bad as the bands have been. Damn solar minimum has been murdering them. His signal was weak, but I heard him call out foxtrot-alpha-nineteen plain as day.”
Lauren’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that Neo’s call sign?”
“It’s one of them,” Dave said, unfolding the message while refraining from reading it. “Did the sender authenticate?”
Lazarus nodded nonchalantly and snorted. “Really, Graham? What is this? Amateur hour?”
Dave sighed. “Lazarus, kindly provide a response to my question before I eternally misplace what little tolerance for you I have left,” he thundered. “You have already riled me once today to the crux of utilizing artillery in spite of what could verifiably be the worst hangover I’ve had in decades. And now you’re handing me off a radiogram purportedly received more than twenty-four hours ago from my numero uno RTO.”
“Okay, Graham, back off. Don’t start with me,” Lazarus stated, his finger pointed. “Seems to me after the use of that artillery this morning, despite my objections, that we both have some beef with each other.”
“Shut your yap,” Dave commanded, uprighting in his seat. “I won’t repeat myself, so pin your ears back and listen.” He held the message aloft tightly between his fingers. “If the info contained within turns out to be in any way time sensitive, whatever beef there is between us will cease to be. For I will arrange to have your beloved sweetbreads whittled off, steamed to edibility and served on Mrs. Ruth’s finest china right here on this table, deficient of garnish.”
Santa chortled. “Yummy.”
“Sweetbreads?” Lazarus posed. “Just what are you talking about?”
“Huevos.” Sanchez chuckled. “Por supuesto.”
Lazarus still looked muddled.
“He means balls,” Santa filled in casually, his fork held up, mouth half-full of eggs. “Your balls specifically. Testicles. Gonads. Kangaroo apples. Crotch nugs. Jizz berries. The two amigos—”
“Santa,” Woo Tang cut in, a finger to his temple.
The bearded one gulped down his food. “Go for Santa.”
“Cease and desist.”
Santa awkwardly regarded his company. “Oh…yeah. Roger that, forgot where I was. Sorry…”
Lauren put a hand to her mouth and sent a stare to the table, half-amused, half-disgusted, endeavoring to recuse herself.
Sending Dave a set of jumbled eyes, Lazarus said, “You can’t be serious.”
Woo Tang motioned to Lauren. “You might aspire to cover your ears a moment.” He then regarded Lazarus. “The removal of appendages is a form of intertribal warfare that has been in practice for a millennia. LT has contributed to this custom for most of his career and already possesses a grandiose collection of enemy scrotums. He preserves them and suspends them as accolades, much in the same manner as Pawnee and Sioux warriors…after taking scalps.”
Lauren’s face contorted. “Gross.”
“Okay, look. I’m sorry,” Lazarus said, swallowing hard. “My apologies, okay? I was just…messing around. I didn’t mean to take so long to get you the message. And the authentication was legit.”
Dave cut his eyes at him, awaiting validation deficient of ambiguities.
“Using the methods previously agreed upon,” Lazarus continued, holding two fingers in the air. “Swear on my pop’s grave.” He paused. “Just, eh, back to my point…don’t forget…using your damn artillery despite my warnings is going to cause problems. The Snyders will retaliate, mark my words. So I’m pretty riled about everything right there along with you.”
Dave rolled his eyes. “We’ll deal with it.” He then spent the next few minutes reading through the message.
Lauren leaned forward, anticipation getting the best of her. “Well? What does it say? Is everything okay at home?”
Dave slid his free hand over and gestured for her to relax.
“Don’t do that, Dave,” Lauren snapped. “Don’t placate me. I haven’t been home in a month, and that’s the first message we’ve gotten from them.” She tried to snatch the letter, but the Green Beret’s reflexes won the match.
“Janey, stow it. Take it easy.” Dave slid his chair back to gain some distance while reaching for the percolator for a refill. “Allow me a few more precious sips of this fine emulsion and I’ll divulge everything within.”
Lauren huffed angrily and enfolded her arms. “Fine.”
Dave raised his mug and drank from it. “Oh man. That is some damn fine mud,” he said. “Looks as though everybody’s good and settled in, but they had a little hiccup upon arrival…some sort of invasion.”
Lauren furrowed her brow. She stood, a look of intense worry washing over her. “An invasion? By who? What happened? Is anyone hurt?”
Dave held up a hand. “Two. Both since deceased. An elderly couple—husband and wife,” Dave said, glancing up at her. “George and Elizabeth Brady. I assume you knew them?”
Lauren sighed, hanging her head. “Yeah, I knew them. They were Austin’s grandparents. They lived in the valley a long time, long before any of us.” She hesitated a lengthy moment. “What happened to them?”
“Neo didn’t include specifics. I’m sorry, Janey.”
“I am sorry, too,” Woo Tang echoed.
The others sent along condolences in chorus.
“It’s okay, I barely knew them,” said Lauren. “The whole family kept to themselves, but we had an alliance with them. After what happened to Bo and Austin and now this, I doubt that’ll be the case anymore. Did he mention anything else? Or if anyone else was hurt?”
“Neo would’ve advised,” Dave replied. “Evidently, the invaders were put down not long before the convoy arrived.” He took another sip of his coffee, then continued. “He says the doctors are settled in, staying at a farm adjacent to your family’s place. Food and supplies have been evenly distributed. Also says here that those previously stricken with illness are now symptomless.”
The sadness that had amassed on Lauren’s countenance dissipated. “You’re kidding. All of them? They’re all be
tter?”
Dave nodded again. “It appears that way. Looks like they got there just in time to help. This is good news, Janey, all the way around.”
“It’s fantastic news.” Lauren let out a long breath of relief. Her deepest inner anxieties began to dispel. The plan to leave the valley in search of food and medical assistance had ultimately been a success, despite encountering a handful of dire setbacks. “Thank God.”
“That’s not a bad idea, bearing in mind He probably had a hand in it,” Dave remarked. He sipped his coffee again as his brows knitted. “Janey, there’s a postscript here. Neo’s requested to go direct with you.”
Lauren looked at him sideways. “Meaning what?”
Lazarus spoke with another mouthful of food. “Oh, that means he wants to tell you something himself—directly. Like with your pretty face in front of the radio and your dainty hand holding the mic.” He held up a hand and squeezed his thumb between his fingers, as if holding an imaginary radio microphone.
Lauren looked to him briefly, her curiosity gaining ground.
Dave set the letter down. “Is your comms setup close by, Lazarus?”
Lazarus shrugged indifferently. “Now, just hold on there. What leads you to believe my equipment is available for public use?”
Dave halted before sipping his coffee and set his mug down. After a moment’s hesitation, he stood, made his way over to his long-haired acquaintance and yanked the chair away he’d been using as a footstool. “Don’t make me ask you again.”
Lazarus recoiled, his eyes wide. “Hey, I was just joking with you. Relax. There’s no need for any of that.”
“On the contrary,” Woo Tang began, his fractious stare finding the man with longer-than-usual hair, “from what I recollect, Ruth is not fond of her furniture being misused. Nor is she fond of the use of profanity in her home. I recommend you show some respect and watch your language.”
Lazarus took a quick scan of the room, seeing now that all eyes staring at him had joined forces, and with that, he’d become the minority. “Hey, look. It’s no problem. If you want to use the radios, you’re welcome to them. And the shack’s not far away. I’ll take you there…we can even go right now if you want.”
Dave leaned in. “I want.”
Chapter 6
Mason residence
Trout Run Valley
Saturday, January 1st. Present day
Michelle Russell ascended the staircase, entered the hall, and found her way to the formal dining room, where Kim Mason was folding and arranging a load of laundry. Kim glanced up and smiled upon noticing Michelle’s entry, but her concentration remained adhered to the meticulousness of her efforts.
Michelle, who had entered empty-handed, made her approach and gestured to the table halfway covered in folded garments and bath towels. “I’d offer my help, but my folding skills are considerably lacking compared to yours. I’ve done laundry most of my life, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fold clothes anywhere as well as you can.”
Kim absorbed the praise and proffered thanks with her body language. “It’s nothing special, really.”
“Maybe not from your perspective, but it sure is to mine,” Michelle said, smiling.
“Well, if you think this is something special, you should see my husband’s rendition. His folds and stacks are plumb, level, and square…darn near close to being engineered. It is a sight to see, let me tell you.”
Michelle nodded. “Did he acquire those skills in the Army?”
Kim emitted a barely audible snicker. “Hardly. BCT, AIT and Ranger indoctrination notwithstanding, the only thing the Army taught Fred to arrange or stack was bodies.” She set a perfectly aligned crease in a bath towel and placed it neatly onto a pile of others. “How long have you been here?”
“Not long,” Michelle began. “I was over at the Vincents’, chatting with the good doctor and his wife about their…wishes, up until all hell broke loose. We sheltered in place for a good while, not knowing what was happening, until one of those tan trucks pulled up with two soldiers inside. They came to the door in a hurry, talking about casualties and needing his assistance. He left with them, and I walked over here to nose around in your basement after hearing on the radio it was safe to go back outside.”
“Any word on them?”
“The Bradys?” Michelle prompted, glowering. “It isn’t good, but it wasn’t good to begin with. Ricky…passed away on the scene, right in my front yard, in front of his sons. Junior lost a lot of blood but will most likely pull through. But that family is seriously reeling after this.”
“They were reeling before it,” Kim said. “But a lot of others are, too. I’d offer to help them if they weren’t so damn proud.” She paused. “What about our remaining patients? I assume you’re informed after nosing around in my basement…”
Michelle exhaled. “Clean bills of health. Peter and Liam are preparing to leave, pending arrival of their armed chariot. Amy is downstairs with Jake right this moment, packing their things. Everyone else is out of the woods, it would seem.”
“That’s good. I’m glad they’re all better now. It’s been a long road for them.”
“It’s been a long road for all of us, especially them. It’ll be nice to get everyone back home where they belong…and I’m sure you’ll appreciate having the house back to yourself,” Michelle said, stumbling over her words. “Shit. I’m sorry, Kim. I misspoke. I didn’t realize what I was saying.”
Kim leaned over on the table and hung her head. “It’s all right, Michelle. Sometimes it all doesn’t seem real to me either. Having folks coming in and out of here like they have these past few weeks has been one of the few things keeping my mind off my boys.” Kim sniffled. “Ever since Fred found out they were missing, nothing I’ve been able to say or do has served to keep him home. He hasn’t even given a damn about his own recovery, just been out there every day looking for them. And now he’s got Megan involved. Once everyone goes back home and we stop emulating Grand Central Station, it’ll just be me here in this big old house by myself with my thoughts.”
“The Schmidts will still be around, won’t they?”
Kim sent a narrowed glance. “I get the feeling they don’t much want to be anymore. Once Scott started coming around, Whitney’s been scouring the valley for options, though she hasn’t exactly been forthright about it. Can’t blame them, really. It’s not easy sharing space like we have.”
“I didn’t know that,” Michelle said. “Strange of her not to say anything to you or discuss her plans.”
“It’s her prerogative. This arrangement wasn’t ever meant to be permanent.”
Michelle nodded. “I suppose. So you really will be alone. How long do Fred and Megan stay gone during the day?”
“Better part of it, most times. And ever since the shooter threat began, they’ve been leaving before sunup and barely getting home until after twilight. Fred says it’s safer that way. I don’t even know where they go anymore; he won’t discuss it. He just packs his things, kisses me on the cheek, utters a few words to Megan, and they leave. That’s become our routine.”
“How long do you expect that’ll go on?”
“How long do I expect what to go on?” Kim snapped. “How long would you look for Lauren if she were missing, Michelle? Do you not recall a few months back when she didn’t come home for a couple of nights? Do you not recall your worry? Your demeanor? The vicious looks you were handing everyone? Because I do. She was gone for just a few days and you were ready to tear the world apart to find her. My boys have been gone for a month. No signs of them anywhere, and other than what them two Brady boys have told us, which borders on ludicrous, nobody knows nothing. And my family has been torn apart over it. My husband came home a broken man after that road trip, limping and beaten to bits by some psycho killer son of a bitch…” Kim drifted off and started to cry. Her hand moved to her nose and she wiped her tears. “I’m sorry, Michelle. I’m sorry, for heaven’s sake, I don’t m
ean to be crude.”
“It’s okay. I probably deserve that after what I said,” Michelle said. “For what it’s worth, Lauren’s doing it to me again. She hasn’t been home in a month and I have no idea how she’s doing, what her plans are, or if she even wants to come home. My family isn’t exactly in one piece right now either.”
“I suppose we can find some peculiar way of empathizing with one another over our predicaments,” Kim said with a despairing sigh. “You know what my biggest fear is? That Mark and Chad have gotten themselves captured…and both my boys are now confined in that godforsaken FEMA camp. I tried talking to Fred about it, but he won’t hear of it. Keeps telling me I don’t know what I’m talking about—that something else must’ve happened to them, that there’s some other explanation. He thinks they’re out there helping somebody and got in over their heads. And I think he’s delusional.
“I think he’s looking for a happy ending where none exists. In fact, I’m about ready to take those pain meds he’s been choking down and flush them…if I knew of a working toilet.” Kim paused. “I know he’s only taking them because he needs them, though. And my husband’s no addict. This strength he’s exuding…it’s counterfeited and seems to be having an encouraging effect on Megan, and in some weird way, it’s doing the same for me. I don’t know, I just don’t know anymore. I’m growing exhausted of playing the tough mom…being the leader…running this family. And I’d like to see something good happen for a change.”
Michelle only nodded. She couldn’t agree more with her friend. She just didn’t know what advice she could offer that would provide benefit. Kim had never made a conscious choice to lean on anyone before. It had always been the other way around. She’d remained steadfast during tough times, offering herself to others in need. Now she was the one in need, like so many others.
Indivisible Page 8
