“Okay,” Madison said as she peered over to Jim Barnett Park, which wasn’t far away from them. “Think we should go through the park?”
“Yeah. Let’s do that. Being this close to all these people is dangerous right now.”
“Dangerous?” Madison questioned, her face contorted.
The two pointed their bikes in the direction of the park and entered the grounds using a connecting sidewalk. They continued through using paved roads at first and then transitioned to the dirt walking paths that led to the ball fields on the other side of the park. As the girls pedaled past the first field, a group of boys appearing in their mid-to-late teens began calling to them. As they pulled closer, the boys began running toward them. Lauren chose to ignore them and pedaled harder to gain distance, but Madison had always been more ingenuous than her friend. She chose differently.
When Lauren noticed that Madison had slowed down, she squeezed hard on the handbrakes and stopped her bike and then hopped off. She started to leave it where it was, but recalled the glares she’d received when they’d ridden by the stranded motorists. An alternate reality was beginning to set in. With the most preferable form of transportation rendered obsolete today, a bicycle had suddenly become a major asset. If she left it alone, she was certain someone would take it. The more Lauren watched the actions of the boys who had now surrounded her best friend, she assumed that was exactly what their plan was. She began running with her bike to Madison and could now hear what the boys were saying to her. They were not being friendly.
“Come on, let us borrow your bike,” a skinny boy wearing athletic shorts and a white tank top said with a smile. “Our car won’t start and we just need a quick ride down the road.”
“I told you I can’t,” Madison explained. “I need it to get home. I’m sorry. I just can’t help you.”
Another boy, a muscular African-American teenager, somewhat larger than the tank-top wearing one, reached for the handlebars and said, “Look, girl, you can either give it to us or we can take it from you.”
As the boys began the struggle to overtake Madison and steal her bike, along with whatever else they intended to do, Lauren dropped her bike to the ground and hastily took off her backpack. She unzipped the rear pocket and felt for the Glock handgun she kept inside. When she found it, she removed it from the IMI polymer retention holster and performed a press-check to verify a round was in the chamber. Lauren went to level the weapon at her friend’s attackers, but quickly realized that there wasn’t a way to stop the attack using the handgun without taking the chance of accidentally shooting her friend.
Never point a loaded weapon at anything you do not intend to destroy.
Her dad’s words rang loud and clear, just like they always did. If you can’t handle a firearm safely, don’t handle a firearm. The other two golden rules of firearm safety—always treat every gun as if it were loaded, and keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot—she’d already considered. Sometimes, the appearance of a firearm alone was enough to cause an attacker to cease and desist. Lauren weighed her options quickly and came to a prompt conclusion. She raised the muzzle of the weapon in the air and fired two quick shots, the blunt percussion causing a sudden lurid ringing in her ears.
The boys, who had already managed to knock Madison from her bike and take the backpack that Lauren had given her not even an hour ago, stopped dead in their tracks upon hearing the pair of concussive blasts. They turned their heads to Lauren and offered her gazes of pure trepidation. From this position and distance, she knew she had the skill to easily acquire all of them as targets and put them each down one at a time, just as she’d been trained.
Lauren stood tall in a ready position. “Put down the backpack and give her back her bike!” she demanded.
Not one of the boys dared to move. They were all frozen in place, their eyes fixated on the black pistol Lauren held in her hands. They appeared not to know what to do. Lauren was sure one of them had peed himself, but she didn’t want to remove her eyes from her sight picture to confirm her guess.
“NOW!” Lauren yelled, feeling that the boys needed a bit more verbal encouragement.
Upon hearing her shout, the retreat was instantaneous. One of the boys, who’d consequently changed his tune, even went to help Madison up from the ground, to which her response was to kick him in the shin and tell him to fuck off. Now grouped together with their hands to their sides, the boys began backing away slowly. They were petrified.
Lauren’s stance didn’t falter. She remained focused—just as she’d been trained to do in the presence of a threat. When the boys had moved to a safe enough distance that Lauren was comfortable with, she reached for the polymer holster on the ground and slid its paddle over the waistband of her pants. She began thinking how glad she was that she didn’t have to shoot anyone over a mountain bike today. Had the boys shown intent to harm her best friend, things would have gone a completely different way. She was certain of it. Madison gathered herself and walked her bike over to where Lauren stood with hers.
“Lauren Russell—where the hell did you get a gun?” Madison queried, uncharacteristically using Lauren’s full name instead of the usual terms of endearment she was fond of. Her tone indicated relief, but also showed how surprised she was by what she’d seen. Madison was a tough girl and had been since she was young, but this was the first time anything like this had ever happened to her.
Lauren’s eyes were still trained on the boys, who at this point had turned around and were retreating quickly in the opposite direction away from her and her friend. She snapped the Glock into the holster on her side and then shouldered her backpack.
“My dad gave it to me a while ago,” Lauren replied.
“He gave it to you,” Madison repeated. “So, what…do you, like, carry it with you wherever you go now?”
“Pretty much,” Lauren hinted. “There are some exceptions, but ever since that day, I keep it close to me.”
“Damn,” Madison said. “You could get in a lot of trouble if they catch you with it at school.”
Lauren smirked but didn’t say anything. She guessed that she wouldn’t have to worry about that anytime soon.
Madison brushed the dirt from her pants and studied the scene around them. She turned to see that her attackers had moved far from sight and let out a whimpering sigh. “I guess I’m glad you had it with you today,” she said. “Thanks, Lo.”
Lauren mounted her bike and said, “Come on. Let’s get home, Maddie—before anything else happens. And do me a favor—this time, don’t stop for anyone—or anything, okay?”
Madison nodded. “You got it.”
The two continued to the park exit and pedaled down Senseny Road, continuously weaving in and around the disabled cars, trucks, and small crowds of confused people that occasionally blocked the way.
When they pulled up in front of Madison’s house, her mother and father ran outside and greeted the girls upon seeing them. After a short conversation and a long goodbye with Madison, Lauren pedaled her bike out of the driveway and down the neighborhood roads, headed for home.
She began thinking about how much things had changed already and, at the same time, wondered what it would be like at home. She wagered that she wouldn’t see her best friend again for a while and it made her sad to think about it. Then, like a slap in the face, the worst thought hit her. She began to worry—really worry—about her dad. She pedaled faster and faster down the road while trying to push the thoughts from her mind. Lauren couldn’t imagine what her dad was seeing right now…or dealing with right now. If it was getting bad in Winchester, it had to be anarchy—perhaps absolute chaos in the city. She didn’t pray often, but with no other way to deal with her feelings at present, under her breath she asked God to keep her father safe. Lauren figured at this point that a prayer, even a small one, definitely couldn’t hurt.
When she pulled into her driveway, Lauren couldn’t help but notice how normal things looked on h
er street. The boys at the end of the road in the cul-de-sac were out playing basketball just like they always did. One of her neighbors was even out mowing his lawn—the lawnmower’s simple design being unaffected by the phenomenon that had occurred today. In Lauren’s neighborhood, it seemed like there was always someone mowing their lawn—and today was no different. She dropped the bike and walked up to the front porch to find her sister, Grace, sitting in an outdoor rocking chair. With a book in her hand, she appeared as though nothing had gone wrong with her day to this point. Grace placed a bookmark in between two pages and looked up at Lauren curiously, her eyes instantly drawn to the gun mounted on her sister’s side.
“Well, hello there, love. You off work already?” Grace said with a hint of surprise in her voice. She took a quick look at her watch. “Seems early.”
Lauren glanced at Grace’s watch too and saw that the timepiece was analog. She wondered if that meant it was working. Lauren dropped her backpack on the porch just outside the front door.
“Um, yeah, you could say that,” said Lauren as her chest responded to her breathing. It had been some time since she’d pedaled a bike as far as she had today. She took a second to wipe off the sweat that had accumulated on her forehead.
Grace stared hard at the sight of Lauren’s sidearm. “The power’s been off for over an hour and I can’t get my fucking cell phone to work. I think the battery is dead or something,” she said. “My charger is such a piece of shit. Do you have one of those USB backup batteries I could borrow? I looked around the house and couldn’t find anything.”
Lauren spent a moment inspecting the homes on her street and then turned to Grace. “There should be a few of them in the junk drawer.”
“Really? Cool,” Grace said, sounding relieved.
“Is Mom home?” Lauren asked.
Grace stood up from the rocking chair and stretched. She was still in her pajamas. She pointed to a house at the end of the cul-de-sac. “She said she’d be back in a little while. I guess your neighbor is on an oxygen machine. She took one of Dad’s small generators and a gas can with her.” Grace shrugged. “I asked her if she needed help, but she told me no and then said to watch the house and keep an eye out for you.” She paused and looked Lauren over. “So do you mind if I ask where the hell your car is? And why the hell you’re wearing a gun?”
Lauren sighed as her breathing started to return to normal. “My car is still at work,” she said, completely ignoring the second question.
“Did it break down or something?” Grace asked.
“Not exactly,” replied Lauren.
“Not exactly?”
Lauren didn’t respond. There were too many items spinning in her mind and she knew this day was about to get way more complicated before long. She picked up her backpack, opened the front door and stepped inside. As she proceeded across the threshold, she was met with a blast of stifling air that wouldn’t normally be felt on a summer day inside a modern climate-controlled home. It was evident to her that the air-conditioning wasn’t working and probably hadn’t been since the event. She left the door open and continued inside while Grace followed not far behind.
“It’s hot as hell in here,” Grace emphasized. “I think it feels better outside. At least there’s a breeze.”
Lauren began looking around the kitchen as her mind raced. What was she supposed to be doing right now? She remembered her dad rehearsing this kind of thing before numerous times with her and her mother, almost every single time the power would go out. He always treated power outages as opportunities to test their premade plans and to even produce new ones, learning what worked and what didn’t.
Today, Lauren’s mind wouldn’t decelerate enough to allow her thoughts to become clear recollections of those events. The normal timeline of her daily life had discontinued and a new one had begun. She had gut feelings combined with basic knowledge of events similar to this occurring in fictional worlds, which she’d either read about or watched in movies. Her instincts were aiding that knowledge, but her dad had also force-fed her an overabundance of end-of-the-world knowledge over the years. Lauren knew what was happening, but didn’t know how to confirm it. She had little doubt, though, that this was definitely the shit hitting the fan.
Behind her, Grace was oblivious, rummaging with purpose through the junk drawer and being particularly vocal in doing so.
“Hell yes!” Grace shouted as she pulled out a small backup battery, pink in color, complete with a cable made for an iPhone. “Dad always has this shit lying around. The man is a certifiable genius. And you guys wonder why I still visit so much.”
Dad. Lauren’s eyes grew large as she heard her sister enunciate the word. Where in the hell was their father?
“Grace, do you remember where Dad was working today?” Lauren asked in a brooding tone, hoping…praying…pleading that the answer she knew to be correct wasn’t.
“I know I had a lot of wine last night…but I’m pretty sure he said he’d be in DC all day,” Grace responded, all the while hastily connecting her phone to the backup battery. Once connected, she pressed the power button to the battery and found it wouldn’t respond. “What the fuck?” she spat. Grace quickly yanked the battery from the cord and went back to rummaging through the junk drawer. She found another battery and connected it. Upon pressing the power button, it lit up, signifying it was in fact operational. She smiled and waited a few seconds and then tried to power up her phone again. Grace slapped her phone a few times and shook her head in frustration. “I don’t get it. What the hell?”
Lauren watched and waited before she finally spoke up. “That battery isn’t going to fix your cell phone.”
Grace looked away from her phone and over to her sister. “What do you mean by that? I mean, I know my phone’s old, but…”
Lauren sighed. “It’s not that,” she breathed. Lauren pulled out her iPhone and handed it to her sister. It was an identical model with an incredibly similar protective case. Grace took it and, after looking at the blank screen and thumbing the power button several times, gave Lauren a disconcerted look.
“What—yours doesn’t work either?” pondered Grace.
Lauren crossed her arms. “How long have you been awake?”
“A couple of hours. Why?”
“Because no one’s cell phone works, Grace,” Lauren said as calmly as she could.
Grace cocked her head and grinned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Lauren uncrossed her arms so that she could animatedly talk with them. “I just left the store and had to pedal a bike all the way here, Grace. Because my car is dead. Everyone’s car is dead. The power is off everywhere. And my phone is dead—just like yours. Nothing that runs on any type of power is working, Grace. Nothing,” Lauren said, now with a bit of an edge to her voice.
After getting a blank stare in return from her sister, Lauren sighed and walked away. She approached the open front door and peered around the neighborhood.
Is everyone you love safe?
Lauren gasped. Her thoughts were starting to slow down and make some sense. She didn’t know the answer to that question, but she needed to know. She looked across the street and spotted her mother, who was walking at a relatively brisk pace toward her. She put her hand on her chest and sighed a breath of relief upon seeing her. Michelle looked up from the street below, and when she saw Lauren, she did the same.
Michelle hugged Lauren tightly when she got to her. “I’m glad you’re home, toots,” Michelle said. “Where’s your car?”
“It’s in the parking lot at work,” Lauren said. “It wouldn’t start.” Lauren pointed to the bike she’d ridden home. “I had to take one of those just to get home.”
Michelle pulled away from her daughter with a distressed look. She motioned for Lauren to follow her as she stepped down from the front porch and walked over to the garage door. She grabbed the handle and lifted the door upward with little effort, indicating she’d already pulled the red emerg
ency cord to disengage the door from the opener mechanism. Michelle pointed to the pearl white Toyota Sequoia that sat idle in the garage in front of them.
“It concerns me that your car won’t start,” said Michelle as she motioned to the SUV. “That thing won’t start either. I tried it a few times. The doors won’t automatically unlock. It’s dead.” She sighed and placed her hands on her hips.
Lauren paused for a second before responding. “Mom, everyone’s car is like that,” she announced. “All Maddie and I saw on the way home were stalled cars everywhere. They were all over the road.”
Michelle looked back at her daughter with marked concern. “So the two of you left work together, then?”
Lauren nodded.
“What made you decide to come home?” Michelle asked.
Lauren turned to see Grace, who was slowly moving up the hall toward the open front door, her hands at her sides, a befuddled look painted on her face. Lauren turned back to look her mother in the eyes.
“A gut feeling.”
“What kind of gut feeling?”
“This is no normal power outage, Mom,” Lauren said.
“How so?”
“Power outages don’t cause everyone’s phone to stop working and cars don’t just stall in the middle of the road during a blackout,” Lauren filled in. “What’s happening today is different. Way different.”
“Wow—it’s almost like I’m talking to your father,” Michelle said flatly with an expansive frown. She pulled out the key fob to her brand-new Toyota and pressed the buttons in random order a few times. Nothing happened.
After hearing some loud cursing from behind her, Michelle turned around and watched as a neighbor lifted his vehicle’s hood upward to examine the engine compartment. Lauren noticed as well, but didn’t say anything. Inside, Michelle knew what was going on—she just didn’t want to admit it. It had been drilled into her mind over the years by her husband, almost in the same fashion as it had been coached into Lauren’s mind. They had prepared over the years for an event like this—and that was the only thing that made her feel slightly better—but only slightly. It didn’t make her feel safe. An event like this would surely welcome panic before long. If the conditions lasted more than a few days, it would bring about desperation. On a widespread scale, it would be nothing short of anarchy. On top of it all, her husband wasn’t home and no doubt was in a much more dangerous location than she and the girls were. At least they were home and, for the moment, relatively safe. And Michelle had him to thank for that.
This We Will Defend Page 36
