“Did he tell you his name?”
“Matt,” Grace replied. “Christian said that he’d had a wife and a little girl, but he didn’t know if they were still alive or not.” She paused. “I don’t see how they could’ve survived…but I didn’t tell him that.”
Lauren frowned. She resisted responding as she recollected the grisly scene that she’d come across right before meeting Christian.
“Did he mention the others? The two that I saw?”
Grace nodded. “Casey and Brian. He didn’t give me any last names and I didn’t ask for them. It’s a shame.”
After a moment, Grace flipped her hair over her shoulder and sighed, then stood suddenly and strolled to the door. “I really appreciate the talk, love.”
Lauren smiled. “Me too. We should do it again sometime.”
“I’ll put it on my calendar. There’s a lot of openings in my schedule now, I should be able to fit you in. And, this is just a suggestion, but you might want to clean this room up a bit before Michelle sees it and loses her mind.”
“I’m not scared of her,” Lauren said.
“Well…I am,” Grace said. “Try to get out of here today, okay? I love you.”
Chapter 3
When Lauren noticed that Grace had gone outside and taken a seat on the porch swing beside Christian, she couldn’t help but smile through the pain she was feeling. It was true, the two had become close in the short amount of time since meeting, and it truly didn’t bother her. Grace had always been the sort to fall for someone quickly, and Christian had proven himself to be loyal, honest, and protective. Today, her older sister was as happy as Lauren had seen her in months. This is a good thing for both of them, she thought.
Lauren slipped off the flannel pajama pants that she’d been wearing for days. She pulled out a pair of insulated trekking pants from her closet and pulled them on. As she slipped a canvas belt through the belt loops, she looked down at the Outdoor Research logo on her pants, remembering the day she’d gotten them at the REI store in Tyson’s Corner. It seemed like such a long time ago. She removed the threadbare hoodie she was wearing and replaced it with a long-sleeve heavyweight wool base layer. Lauren walked to her nightstand and slid open the top drawer, where she kept most of her everyday items. She picked up a paddle retention holster and slipped it onto her side and then grasped her Glock 22 and performed a press-check. She snapped the pistol into the holster and then placed a paddle-style double magazine carrier on her right side to compliment it.
Per her sister’s suggestion, Lauren took a few minutes to tidy up her room. After folding her clothes and placing the dirty ones in the hamper, she closed the curtains to her window and proceeded to walk out of her room. On her way out, she instinctively reached for her rifle and slung it over her shoulder.
The arid smell from the fire in the woodstove swiftly engulfed her as she edged into the hallway. The family had been keeping a small fire burning in the mornings ever since the air outside had become cooler in the valley. Lauren walked to the old Timberline and placed her open palms just above it, warming them in an instant. As she peered around, she noticed that the cabin was empty inside, except for John, whom she knew with all certainty was sleeping soundly in his bed after yet another long night on watch. Even with heightened security, constant patrols, and both borders now being guarded twenty-four hours a day, he’d insisted it was still necessary. No one had objected.
Lauren opened the front door and hobbled outside onto the front porch, still careful not to put any unnecessary weight on her ankle. Christian and Grace produced looks of surprise when they saw her step out. Christian set the knife he’d been holding down to his side and began to slow-clap.
“Baby steps, Lauren,” he said sarcastically with a grin. “Baby steps.”
Lauren gestured dismissively and stared out toward the driveway. “You can stop that crap any time, Christian.”
“Hey—it was supposed to be encouraging.”
“I appreciate the sentiment—but I know better than that from you,” Lauren argued.
Grace slapped Christian’s knee. “Stop being an ass. She’s doing good.”
“I realize that, and like I said, I was trying to be encouraging,” he responded.
“Well, it sounds more like you’re just giving her shit,” Grace quipped.
“It’s cool, guys,” Lauren said. “I can handle it. These shoulders are pretty broad.”
“Now that sounds like the sister I know,” Grace said with a broad smile. “Welcome back.”
Christian picked up the unique-bladed knife he’d been using earlier, to continue his work, and it caught Lauren’s eye. “Where’d you get that knife?”
He smiled and held it up proudly. “You like it? It’s a kukri. A Nepalese utility knife. I took it from one of the dead guys in the road the other day. It was in bad shape, but Norman let me use his whetstone to restore it. It’s sharp enough to cut a man’s arm off now.”
“I guess I can see how that could be useful,” Lauren said.
As Christian made the finishing touches to his project, Lee stepped onto the porch with a radio in one hand and his AK-47 in the other. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and displayed a look of surprise at Lauren when she turned to face him.
“Wow. Look who decided to finally come out of her room,” Lee teased.
Lauren rolled her eyes at him. “Yep. You should probably hop on the radio and tell the world now.”
“Hey, calm down. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I was just making an observation,” Lee said indifferently. He then motioned to Christian. “Is that cross about ready, dude?”
Christian held up the two pieces of wood that he’d been whittling on all morning. “I think so. Just gotta tie them together somehow and then we can mount it.”
“Cool,” Lee said. He walked across the porch and took the pieces from Christian. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Thanks, bud,” said Christian. “I’d do it myself, but I’d get in trouble without a doctor’s excuse.”
“Again,” Grace interrupted. “You’d get in trouble—again.”
“Right,” Christian agreed. “So I’m just going to sit here and rest my ailments like a good little boy.”
Lee grinned. “You do that,” he said as he turned away. Lee offered Lauren a genuine smile and patted her on the back before hopping down from the porch and rounding the corner.
“Could you possibly be any more of a smart-ass today?” Grace quizzed Christian jokingly.
Christian put both hands behind his head and rested his head on them. “You just met me. This is nothing.”
“Jesus,” Lauren said. “The two of you need to give it a rest. I’ve only been out here for a few minutes and I’m already nauseous.”
“Imagine if we got married,” Christian tormented. “I’d be your brother-in-law, then, and you could never get rid of me. I bet that would make you really want to vomit.”
Lauren’s eyebrows lowered and she stared at Christian coldly. Grace smacked him again and again and the two began goofing off back and forth. It was Lauren’s cue to distance herself and allow whatever was happening to continue without her as an audience. Lauren moved to the porch steps and took in an unobstructed view of the sky. The clouds had suddenly become much darker, and she could hear small raindrops as they smacked the roof of the cabin.
Autumn rain, she thought. It was cold. Fresh. Rejuvenating. It had a bizarre energy to it, similar to the first thunderstorms that marked approaching warm weather. Lauren took her time and listened to the rain pelt the roof and other objects around her. It was entrancing. Not even ten seconds later, Lee flew back onto the porch in a near panic, breaking her moment of solace.
“It’s getting ready to rain like hell,” he said as he shook off the cold droplets from his shirt and jacket. He dashed inside and closed the door behind him.
It wasn’t long before the rain intensified into a full-on downpour. Grace cursed loudly as the icy
shower began to splash in on her. She got up and assisted Christian to his feet, helped him gather his gear, and the two then made their way to the door.
“Coming inside?” Grace asked her sister.
Lauren waved her off. “No, you guys go ahead.”
“Are you sure? This looks like it’s going to be a hell of a storm,” added Christian. He sounded surprisingly concerned.
“I’m fine, really. I’ve been inside too much lately.”
Lauren held her hands out beyond the porch roof and let the rain smack her palms. She took a quick look around and then pulled off her socks and tossed them onto the porch. Goose bumps covered her skin as she hopped down from the porch into the driveway. After only a few seconds she’d become utterly soaked, but Lauren didn’t care.
She positioned her hands outward and leaned her head back to look at the sky, and soon, her eyes became inundated with rainwater. She giggled like a child as she opened her mouth wide, allowing the rain to shower over her. It was amazing just how good it felt. Lauren had become accustomed to taking cold showers since moving to the cabin, but this was much different than that. This was truly cleansing. She stood motionless for a while, but finally plopped down into a puddle on the ground. She unslung her rifle from her shoulder, leaned it against a tree and then lay flat on her back in the grass and stretched.
The rain was just as cold as it was unwavering, but the downpour was cleansing her spirit. Her mood had changed for the better, and she didn’t know why. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and rolled to her side to get a view toward the rear of the property where the shed was. Her thoughts were starting to become clearer now. The earth had been able to survive for millions of years because it had been designed with the ability to cleanse and therefore heal itself. Rain is just a small part of the healing process, she thought. It was now cleansing the earth around her—washing all the blood away from the areas surrounding the shed. Lauren smiled. It was hard to explain how she was feeling right now, but it was the best that she’d felt in days.
Lauren looked down at the Glock handgun on her belt, which was just as wet and covered in mud as she was. She smiled thoughtfully at it as she considered just how ubiquitous it had become. It didn’t bother her in the least, seeing it in this condition. She’d learned over the years that they were rugged as well as durable.
I don’t buy them because they’re cheap, L. I buy them because you can bet your life on them, he’d said.
That conversation had come when he’d taken her to a swimming hole in the silty waters of Passage Creek just a few summers ago. Alan had jumped right into the water with his Glock still holstered on his side, without a care in the world. It was the same one she now carried on her side.
A familiar voice calling her name cancelled her train of thought.
“Hey, toots. Did you decide to take a shower outside today?”
Lauren turned to see her mother trudging unhurriedly through the pouring rain. She was carrying a set of tools in her hands and was altogether soaked from her head to her boots. And just like Lauren, it didn’t seem to bother her.
“Something like that,” Lauren said.
Michelle gestured at the ground. “Looks more like a mud bath to me.”
Lauren smiled but didn’t respond.
“So what are you really doing out here?” Michelle asked.
“I was about to ask you the same question.”
“I’ve been getting the shed squared away and back to normal,” Michelle replied. “I got the hasp back on, but I can’t find the lock anywhere.”
“I could head to Walmart and get you one if you want,” Lauren jeered.
Michelle played along. “While you’re there, pick up some Cherry Coke and a rotisserie chicken.”
Lauren giggled. “Don’t even start,” she said. “Those words alone are enough to make my stomach scream.” Lauren took a pause to deviate. “Is everything okay inside the shed?
“Surprisingly, yes. They went after some of the food, spilled a few things…but it doesn’t look like anything’s missing. They put a lot of effort on your dad’s stuff for some reason, though. They must’ve thought there was something awfully valuable in there.”
“Dad’s stuff?”
“That gigantic metal coffin that he made me promise not to leave behind,” Michelle said. “The one with the huge lock on it. I have no idea what’s in that thing, but it’s heavy. And God only knows what the combination is.”
Lauren nodded. She didn’t say anything, but she knew what the combination was. She’d known ever since elementary school. Of all her gifts, Lauren’s memory was perhaps the most prominent. She’d always been able to see pictures, as well as numbers, in her mind involuntarily. It was effortless.
“Okay, my old bones have had enough of this. I’m going inside to get warm and dry off,” Michelle said. “You should consider doing the same. The last thing I need is you getting sick.”
“I’ll be in shortly. When I’m done with my mud bath.”
“Have it your way—but I’d appreciate it if you do so before you develop hypothermia,” Michelle said.
“Yes, Mother.”
Michelle smiled and kissed Lauren on her rain-drenched head and then walked back to the cabin. Before going inside, she turned around and announced that they’d made plans that evening to have dinner at the Masons’ house. Lauren nodded and gave her mother a thumbs-up.
Lauren sat motionless for a while and enjoyed the solitude along with the rain, which was now falling at near monsoon strength. The rain always seemed to be more intense in the fall months. The sound of it hitting the trees and smacking the ground was enough to drown out most other sounds around her. After a few minutes of immersing herself in its uneven cadence, Lauren looked back toward the shed again and decided it was time to walk over and check things out for herself.
Once she crossed the bridge, she began examining the ground closely. It was indeed obvious that a disturbance had occurred there, but the remnants of the battle—the sights she’d worried most about—were gone. The divots in the dirt caused by impacting bullets were now either smoothed out or filled with rainwater. Lauren rolled her lips between her teeth and let out a deep breath. Her eyes had seen enough of what had transpired here on the day it had happened. Today, she was glad it was gone.
Lauren approached the shed. She slid open the hasp, pushed the door inward, and followed it inside. Leaving the door open to utilize the daylight, she began looking around the walls at the items stacked on the shelves. It didn’t take long to notice her dad’s large shiny footlocker, the one her mother had lovingly referred to as the ‘coffin’. Lauren pulled down an old moving blanket from a shelf and wrapped herself in it to ease her shivers. She took a seat facing the footlocker and looked closely at the case-hardened six-digit combination lock that secured it. Closing her eyes, she began to remember the first time her father had told her what the combination would always be to any lock he would use to secure his ‘daddy stuff’. He’d used this combination ever since she’d attended public school for the first time. It was her cafeteria lunch number, the one she’d been assigned in first grade—one of the first numbers that she’d ever memorized.
Lauren pulled her hair over her shoulder and wrung out some of the rainwater that had accumulated in it. She lifted the combination lock and moved the numbers slowly into position while saying them quietly to herself.
“Five, one, eight, seven, seven, zero.”
She tugged on the lock and it opened with an audible click. She then removed the lock and opened the cover to expose a surplus of assorted contents.
Lauren brushed her hands through the innards of the container, which was filled with an assortment of resealable, heavy-gauge plastic and Mylar bags of differing sizes. The plastic bags contained mostly cables and connectors. Others held batteries, and some held other components that she didn’t recognize. The Mylar bags weren’t transparent like the plastic bags, but were marked appropriately with w
hat they contained. She pulled open one of the bags that had ‘Yaesu FT-817ND’ written on it in thick black sharpie. Whatever it contained was wrapped up tightly in aluminum foil and placed inside yet another plastic bag.
The joke about the tin-foil hat and the stereotypical survivalist or prepper soon entered her mind—a anecdote regarding people who believed in conspiracy theories—something that her dad had clued her in on years before.
“Now look at us,” she muttered to herself. “A brave new world.”
Lauren studied the contents for a moment before zipping the bag shut. Whatever was inside was something her dad had taken great care to make certain would survive the EMP—a ham radio perhaps. She knew that her father had been an avid amateur radio operator for decades. He’d picked up the hobby long before she’d been born, and Lauren remembered seeing radios lit up colorfully along his desk in his office, which he sometimes referred to as his ‘radio shack’. He’d always taken so much pride in his ability to communicate with anyone anywhere, across town or even around the world.
Lauren wasn’t an expert on EMPs, but she knew with all certainty that the one that’d transformed the world as she knew it had also rendered the equipment in her father’s radio shack permanently inoperable—because it wasn’t protected. The more she examined the contents inside the container and, in particular, the care with which specific items were packaged, the mystery of the container became less obscure.
“This isn’t a coffin at all, Mom,” Lauren said softly to herself, a grin gradually emerging across her face. “It’s a Faraday cage. It’s Dad’s spare radio shack.”
It only made sense. After all she’d learned, it just made sense. Her father was no expert either, but even he’d known what an EMP of a given magnitude would do to electronic devices left unprotected. He’d packed the items inside this container, using a combination of materials that he’d believed would provide both shielding and insulation. He must’ve thought it would be enough—but was it? The only way to know would be to test them, and Lauren didn’t know the first thing about setting them up.
This We Will Defend Page 6
