Lazarus wiped his nose and staggered, trying to find his balance. “What happened? I can barely see…feels like my nose is broken.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t break your jaw.” Lauren knelt and hoisted her pack.
Lazarus stared hard at her, then pointed. “Hey! Why’d you hit me?” He directed a related query to Woo Tang. “Why’d you let her hit me? This is great…this is just fucking great. I come clean and tell the truth and try to get us all on an even keel so we can work all this out, and what do I get for my efforts? Attacked! Assaulted! Punched in the face by some…violent, feral, half-breed bitch.” He pointed at Lauren again, his finger shaking. “You…you’re lucky your bodyguard is here to protect you, because if not, I would kick your scrawny ass up and down this mountain.”
Lauren finished adjusting her pack straps, then prompted Woo Tang for input.
The frogman held up both hands. “I will stand aside.”
“There you go. Opportunity knocks. My bodyguard is off duty, and you’re fresh out of excuses.” Lauren’s tone went bitter. She stood solid and ready, legs shoulder-width apart with a menacing glower. “I’m waiting.”
Lazarus sniffled and snorted and continued to manipulate his shattered nose. He looked to Woo Tang, then back to Lauren. She was standing her ground and hadn’t so much as moved an inch. He wanted to call her bluff, but couldn’t tell if she was bluffing, and he wasn’t about to chance it.
A corner of Lauren’s lips curled upward. “Hats off to you, Laz…you’ve proven yourself to be a coward and a fraud.” She then turned her back and started off, never to look upon him again. “Good riddance.”
Lazarus went to respond, but Woo Tang quickly squared off with him. “From this point forward,” he began, sending Lazarus the iciest of stares, “we go our separate ways. You are hereby advised not to follow us. Doing so would be unwise on your part.”
“W-what about them?” he inquired, a rigid finger pointed at the couple huddled together.
Woo Tang regarded them. “Francis? Jean? You are welcome to join us.” He fell in to Lauren’s boot tracks, tossing a small medical kit at the bleeding man’s feet as he made his exit.
A moment later, under Lazarus’s hateful gaze, Francis and Jean gave chase, abandoning him and his injured counterpart in the remote, unforgiving forest somewhere in the vicinity of Lost City, West Virginia.
Lauren had already gone a good length up the trail, but stopped to wait for Woo Tang to catch up. Once reconnected, and noticing that Jean and Francis were with him, she smiled and thanked him.
“Thank me for what?”
“For…backing me up. And doing what I would’ve done.” She gestured to the couple.
“Lazarus is not an honorable man. Whatever negative outcome that is set to befall him is warranted, for he has brought it upon himself.”
“We agree on that,” Lauren said, now sounding anxious. “As soon as we get back, we have to find some way to warn Bernie and Ruth about this. They lost their safety net. And Dave needs to know too.”
Woo Tang nodded his head with a detached gaze. “There is time. Neo will know how best to go about it, and LT can handle himself. I do not expect our friend to make it far from where he is now. There are many searching for him. I estimate fate will befall him long before he learns of a new way to postpone it.”
“I guess.”
“Guessing is immaterial,” Woo Tang said. “For men such as Lazarus, there is no sanctuary, on this earth or beyond it.”
Chapter 19
Loudoun County, Virginia
Wednesday, January 5th. Present day
Alan’s excitement had reached an all-time high, for the day had finally arrived to depart White Rock and restart the search for home once again. He packed and repacked his gear, checked his weapons, twice, and loaded everything he owned into the Marauder APC’s rear compartment, discovering that Butch had stashed some goodie bags in there as well. Alan hadn’t felt the need to ask what was in them. Butch, despite his indelicate disposition, was shaping up to be quite the altruist, and he’d supplemented their inventory for good reason.
Butch had installed a mobile dual-band amateur radio in the APC and had pulled Alan aside and gone over the unit’s controls with him. The rig had been preprogrammed with a specific list of memories, each frequency serving a particular purpose and bearing with it a set of limitations.
The embittered vet had gone on to explain the use of the 3-3-3 Radio Plan, as employed by preppers, survivalists, and SHTF emergency communications groups, where operators powered down most of the time or maintained radio silence to save power. Calling for stations or listening for calls occurred every three hours beginning at twelve o’clock until three minutes after the hour on channel three, whether citizens band, maritime or marine band, Family (FRS), General Mobile (GMRS), Multi-use Radio Service (MURS), or amateur radio simplex channels.
The plan’s purpose was creating a communications rally point of sorts, where operators could meet if standard means of comms was interrupted or became obsolete. It was based on the Survival Rule of Threes, and therefore easily recalled by those savvy: theoretically, human beings can survive three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter, and three minutes without oxygen.
Butch had wittily added to this that Homo sapiens can also survive for three decades deprived of speaking directly to another, three years if doing so by radio, thereby bringing his opinion on the necessity of human interaction to the table.
After he and Alan had finished going over the encyclopedia of radio etiquette and protocol as scripted by Butch, the group gathered in the main bay to finish loading up and to sort out any last remaining details before departure.
With her gear dragging behind, Jade strode Alan’s way, noticing he was in the process of rereading his wife’s letter. She didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt him.
Alan noticed her approaching him and glanced over. Soon after, he folded the letter and slid it into his shirt pocket. “Did I ever mention anything to you about writing a book?”
Jade pushed out her lower lip. “You mean, as in you think I should write one? I don’t know, I don’t think I have the patience for that.”
Alan chuckled. “No. What I meant was, did I ever mention anything about me writing a book. As in being an author.”
“Oh.” Jade blushed. “No, not that I recall. Why? Are you?”
“It would appear. Michelle mentioned something about it in her letter and I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around it. She said my oldest, Grace, was with them on the day and had originally wanted to leave, but her car wasn’t working. I take that to mean she lived elsewhere. At first, she was planning to walk home, but Lauren had her read this book I evidently wrote, and she changed her mind, for some reason.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“No doubt. But it begs the question, if I did in fact write a book…what could it’ve possibly been about?”
Jade dropped her things and took a seat next to him, folding her legs. “I can think of a few things.”
“Care to share them? I’m drawing a blank.”
“That Alan…such a smart guy, yet he knows nothing about nothing sometimes,” Jade mused. “Maybe you could benefit from a little woman’s intuition.”
“Meaning…”
“Meaning, knowing you and who you were then, it was likely about something you obsessed over the most. Like guns, prepping, or the end of the world as we know it.”
Alan’s brows drew in.
“You said it yourself just now,” Jade said. “Whatever your eldest read kept her from walking home. Something got her attention, or maybe even scared the daylights out of her. I’m going with the latter, knowing who her father is.”
“Comforting.”
“As far as subject matter is concerned, there are tons of possibilities. Maybe you wrote a doomsday blueprint or an outline to follow like Johnny Jacks did with Absolute Anarchy.
Or a fictional story about something you believed destined to happen, to the tune of Orwell or Pat Frank, or maybe Motes, Steven Bird, or Horton.”
“Okay, but I don’t know who any of those people are, Jade.”
“Authors—” she chuckled “—of apocalyptic fiction. One of my colleagues in the cavern was obsessed with the genre. She always had a pile of books on her desk, by those authors and a slew of others.”
Alan sent a stare to the distance. “Me. A fiction author…”
“Why not? We could try Googling your name if one of Butch’s computers could access the web, if it even still exists.”
“It doesn’t,” Butch said, emerging from behind them. “Unless you’re adept at packet switching and archaic ARPANET jive that predates the World Wide Web.” He rapped his knuckles on the table while continuing past. “Minor change of plans, turtledoves. When the courting ritual’s through with, kindly approach the bench.”
Alan’s face twisted. “Courting ritual?”
“Turtledoves?”
Alan and Jade stood and followed Butch to his workbench, where Ken was perched beside Walter in his wheelchair. At Butch’s feet were two Pelican-style armored cases.
“Now that we’re all here, there are a few things we need to gab about, so listen up,” Butch began. “First topic is operational and personal security, subjects to which I doubt any one of you subscribes with any level of sobriety. It’s fortuitous, in that regard, that you’ve become acquainted with yours truly.” He lifted one of the cases onto his bench and opened it.
Ken was the first to chance a peek. “NVDs?”
“These are generation three, ultralight, unfilmed image intensifier binoculars with P45 white phosphor screens.”
Ken shrugged. “Isn’t that what I said?”
“This plan you’ve all been devising has you leaving and undergoing most of your…mission throughout the bright of day,” Butch said. “Well, I’m squashing that right here, and I’ll be the first to say that doing so is just fucking stupid. I won’t allow it, no siree, no way in hell, not when my hardware’s on the line. And me putting my fat foot down leaves you with one option—a nighttime departure and nighttime-only operations. As a caveat, the headlamps on that South African APC are underpowered as all get out and have the candlepower equivalent to a Mini Maglite.”
Alan nodded his understanding, recalling his trip down the tunnel in the other Marauder, the one he’d subsequently overturned.
“In recourse, you’ll be running lights out at all times and using these. Harris F5032s are perfect for rapid movement in not-so-ideal light conditions. They can be mounted anywhere, to a helmet or a skull crusher, break them apart and mount them to a weapon, whatever suits you. They use AA rechargeables that last around five to six hours and recharge with USB. And you’ll find plenty of places to charge them in the APC. Run out or lose them, regular batteries work just as well, but don’t last as long. Any questions?”
Ken lifted one of the devices from the case. “Do they come in green? I prefer the lighter shades.”
Butch puckered his lips. “Any other questions?”
“What about thermal?” Jade spoke up.
Butch’s lips transmuted from a pucker into a smile. “Damn, a lady who knows what she wants. I bet when a man takes you out for a steak dinner, you don’t bother ordering ice water, do you, Jade?”
Jade slowly shook her head. “It’s bourbon or bust for me.”
Butch gritted his teeth. “Je-sus Christ. I am seriously starting to believe I’m might miss you a little bit after you’re gone.” He knelt and opened the other case. “Behold, ask and ye shall receive. There’s only two of them, but they’re FLIR, and at one time, they were the best multipurpose thermal scopes money could buy. However, same as all my other prized possessions, I want them back, so please try to take care of them.”
“So we’re not leaving until tonight now?” Alan pondered.
Butch sighed. “The sun ebbs at quarter till five today. It’s only a couple more hours of waiting, Alan, Jesus…”
Alan nodded, his letdown on display, then pointed at the NVDs. “And we can drive with these on?”
“Field of view and depth perception is limited,” said Jade, “so it’s not easy for the untrained eye, or eyes, but it’s doable. And a lot safer than parading around in a black monster truck with a big machine gun on top.”
Ken nodded agreement, turning to the Marauder. “That thing does stick out like a sore thumb.”
“More like a turd in a punch bowl,” added Walter.
“Only now,” Butch said, “sore thumb or…turd, as it were, it’ll be sponsored by the cover of night.”
The next few hours dragged on for Alan and felt more like several days had been added to further postpone departure. Ken had accused him earlier of being stir-crazy, but now, Alan felt ready to come out of his skin. The anticipation of leaving was like murder, having long ago bypassed disappointment. He paced a while, but that didn’t occupy him long. Jade had brought him a plate of food, but Alan had turned it down, too excited to muster an appetite. He’d grown increasingly irritable, so much so that Butch had even kept his distance.
And then, a few minutes after sundown, the time came. Butch rolled in a half-dozen steel cans of diesel fuel on a cart and went to topping off the Marauder’s tank after locking down others in mounts on the exterior chassis.
Alan was chomping at the bit to leave at this point and already had his door propped open awaiting his entry.
Ken and Jade hung out by Walter’s side and waited for Butch to finish. All three had their arms folded and eyes locked on Alan’s fidgeting form.
“What?” he asked, noticing their stares.
The trio deadpanned and impassively pursed their lips in chorus.
“Just a couple more things before you go,” Butch growled, marching up to them, hearing another one of Alan’s sighs. “Come on, reel that shit in. I promise it’ll only take a minute.”
“Sorry,” Alan muttered.
“That’s better. This regards the transceiver I installed in the dash, so you might care to listen in. If you find yourselves in trouble or you need assistance, hop on and make a call,” Butch went on. “All you gotta do is push the button and talk. That’s it. It’s all set up and dummy proof. We’ll be monitoring here, and with Walter on extended stay, he’ll be listening for you if I’m not around. Stick to the comm plan we spoke about. You should hear us come back to you if you’re within range. Just remember, most of the area you’re headed into is valley, as in surrounded by mountains, and that means your signal might not get out.
“The channels I programmed into your rig are all VHF. RF waves in that range travel line of sight, so elevation is your friend. They do tend to bend around environmental obstacles somewhat, but not much. Occasionally, you’ll get some magic, but keep your expectations low. And if you’re parked in a metal or concrete building for whatever reason, all bets are off, so try to stay out of them. The GPS transponder remains operational, so wherever you go, I’ll be looking you up, eventually.”
“That’s reassuring,” Jade quipped.
“I’m sensing the sarcasm. Anyway, I realize time’s a-wastin’, so, Alan, good luck to you. If you make it home, fantastic. Give the wife and kids a kiss for me. But if you don’t, mosey your butts back here and we’ll figure something else out.” Butch finished with a tone more candid than his usual. He sent waves to Ken and tipped his hat to Jade, then strode to his bench, where he went to occupying himself with a soldering iron.
Walter and Ken shook hands and gave each other a one-arm hug.
“Watch yer ass, Kenny,” Walter said.
“Got to. You won’t be there to watch it for me.”
“Y’all realize I’m still ’bout half the notion to hook a tow strap to this wheelie chair and let y’all drag me ’round. Shame they don’t make skis for these contraptions.”
“Walt, this place is built into a mountain,” said Jade. “The hills o
n either side are like double black diamonds, so forget it. We don’t need you going kamikaze on us.”
“Come on. You act like you know me or somethin’.” Walter embraced her. “Jade, girl, I’d tell you to watch yer ass too. But that’d be silly. So instead, I’m jus’ gonna say watch Kenny’s for ’im. Since he sucks at it.”
“That’s a tall order, Walt,” Jade said. “And not high on my list.”
“Are you saying my bum isn’t nice to look at?” Ken asked.
Jade smirked. “I wouldn’t know firsthand. Shall I query Butch for his account?”
Ken sent her a middle finger and turned away.
“Eew, got me a visual on that.” Walter laughed.
Alan moved in to take Walter’s hand. “Take it easy, Marine. And I mean that. Get healed. You’re no good to me like this.”
“Roger that. You jus’ go an’ finish what you started, you hear? When the fiesta begins, don’t forget my invite.”
And with that, Alan, Jade, and Ken boarded the Marauder while Butch worked to open White Rock’s two-ton entry door. Jade slipped on her skull-crusher head harness, then unstowed the night-vision binoculars and adjusted each diopter.
Ken spent a moment playing musical chairs in the APC’s rear compartment, trying to decide which seat offered the most comfort. “All right, let’s do this,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “We’re off, once again, to find Alan a home. Or have him committed to one.”
Jade backed the APC out of the bay and began her turnabout. Once far enough from all sources of artificial light, she unstowed her goggles again, tossed her hair and rotated sideways. “How do I look, fellas?”
“Like a sight for sore eyes,” Ken said.
“Better question is, how do we look?” Alan asked. “How well can you see?”
Jade killed the Marauder’s headlamps and dimmed the dashboard backlighting. “I can see…everything. Trust me, you’ll want to try this.”
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