Alex guided the bright green beam past her head, placing it on the light fixture attached to the garage behind her. The rifle barked, sending a .223 bullet past her head at 3,000 feet per second. If the crack of the bullet didn’t make an impression, the sudden obliteration of the glass light enclosure should deliver the message.
Jamie lowered her body. Alex fired another round over her head, striking the top of the garage door behind her with a hollow thump. He hoped the Walkers’ garage would channel the sound of his suppressed rifle forward, limiting the directional extent of its detectability. At this point, the repeated sound would draw attention. He waited for her to react.
“I didn’t have a choice! He threatened the girls! He’s a piece of shit!” she screamed.
“Throw the Glock into the street and walk back into the house, Jamie!” yelled Alex.
“Is he dead?” she said, her voice breaking.
“He’s dead. Time’s up, Jamie. Toss the pistol and get inside.”
Jamie reached behind her back, causing him to tense and press into the SUV’s rear tire. He knew she would have to do this to comply with his demand, but it still made him nervous. Alex just hoped that Charlie didn’t get any panicky ideas.
“You okay over there?” he whispered.
“Yep. Finger’s off the trigger,” said Charlie.
“As soon as she turns around, you head out and get the pistol.”
“Got it.”
Jamie raised the pistol over her head and threw it as far as she could. She stood her ground on the driveway, facing the open garage bay.
“He never found it. Can you believe that? I should have put it up to his head while he was dead drunk and pulled the trigger. He had enough reasons to kill himself.”
“You should have warned me,” said Alex. “We would have helped you.”
“I did warn you. Route 26? He was listening to the whole conversation through one of the radios. That was all I could do.”
Alex stepped out of the shadows. “Shit. I’m sorry, Jamie. I just found out about what was going on with you tonight. We didn’t put it together.”
“I got pretty good at hiding it. We’ll be fine now. Completely fine. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get the shotgun back—after you’re gone.”
“We’ll leave it in the garage. Back door will be unlocked—not that you can’t just walk through the sliding door,” he said, causing her to briefly laugh.
“Good luck getting your kids back from Boston. I figured you were splitting up between the bikes and the Jeep,” said Jamie.
“Help yourself to anything you can salvage. There’s a ton of food in our basement if you don’t mind snorkeling. Firearms too. Need to get to those quick, before the bores start to rust. I have a cord of wet firewood in my garage,” he said.
“Thanks, Alex. I’ll take you up on that, and I’ll keep an eye on the houses. Can I take the pistol?”
“Yeah. Clean it really well. There’s a lot of sand mixed into this mess,” said Alex.
“See you around,” she said.
“Good luck, Jamie. Hopefully we’ll see you shortly.”
“Somehow I think this is more of a permanent situation. We’re ready.”
Alex called Ed down to the mudroom, and helped Charlie secure the garage. They locked the bay door in place and barricaded the back door. Ed met them in the garage.
“I’m thinking we should leave right now,” said Ed.
“We can’t ride bikes in the dark,” said Kate, following him.
“The sun will be up in three hours. 5:50. We should at least start rolling out of here at five, before the neighborhood wakes up. By the time we get everyone to Route 1, they should have enough light to travel safely,” said Ed.
Kate nodded and rubbed her eyes.
“All right. We’ll let everyone sleep for another hour and a half, then get out of here. I don’t think she’s a threat, but who knows what she’s capable of with kids to protect?” said Alex.
“Why don’t you and Charlie get some sleep? I’ll take the next shift down here,” said Ed.
Alex handed Ed the muddied shotgun and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s all yours, Ed. I’m going to take a shower, if you don’t mind.”
“Use the bathroom at the top of the stairs, and uh—try not to make a mess,” he joked.
“Funny man for three in the morning,” said Alex.
“More like slap happy.”
“This is just the beginning of our fun. Wait until tomorrow night,” said Alex.
“Can’t wait. Charlie, I got this covered,” said Ed.
“You sure, amigo? I’m kind of amped up right now. I don’t mind holding down the fort,” said Charlie, stepping back into the kitchen.
“All the more reason for you to take a nap. Seriously, we’re all going to need as much rest as possible for tomorrow. Don’t make me wake up Linda to haul your ass upstairs,” said Alex.
***
Kate slipped into the upstairs bathroom after Alex and locked the door. She needed a moment with him alone, and this looked like it might be her last opportunity for a long time. Even when they reunited at the farm, they would be living on top of each other with nine additional people, bringing the total at the 2,200-square-foot contemporary farmhouse to seventeen. Alone time would become a premium, which was important for their relationship. Important on several levels, one of which was Alex’s mental health. The mental and physical rigors of their pandemic experience had worsened his post-traumatic distress symptoms, his nightmares, and had surfaced subtle changes to his behavior.
The changes were barely noticeable, but Alex seemed more prone to bouts of melancholy and a negative outlook. He’d always had the nightmares, pretending to wake up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, when Kate knew he was changing a sweat-soaked shirt and wiping his face. He hadn’t been the only one pretending. She would lay there breathing slowly, faking a deep sleep, grateful that he’d returned. Her deep, undisturbed sleep had become a joke in their family over the years, but it was a twisted façade. She slept so lightly at night, constantly waking up to Alex’s murmurs and sounds, that she could barely lift herself out of bed in the morning.
She’d kept this a secret from him for years, just like he’d tried to keep the nightmares from her. The onset of depression after the pandemic worried her the most, forcing her to suggest he seek PTSD-related counseling. The treatment had been marginally effective at combating his mood swings, and Kate relied on constant, close observation to guide him through tougher spells of darkness. Prior to the tsunami, Alex had been on one of the longest upward swings she could remember. She suspected that he’d started taking the medication he’d been prescribed, which he’d long been against. The current situation had the potential to send him in the opposite direction, and Kate needed to stay on top of it.
“I don’t think this is the right time,” he said, leaning his rifle against the wall next to the toilet.
“You wish. They ran out of hot water this afternoon. A cold shower with a stinky man isn’t at the top of my romantic encounters list. I just wanted to talk with you in private.”
“And I had been led to believe that I was irresistible under any circumstances,” he joked.
“I’m not sure a shower will do you any good.”
“Sadly, I don’t even notice anymore,” Alex said. “I know why you’re here, by the way.”
“That obvious?”
“I’m fine. Pretty clear-cut situation out there.”
He lit one of the candles on the marble bathroom counter and started to undress.
“It won’t always be that clear cut,” she said.
“Anything standing in the way of getting Ryan and Chloe back is a clear-cut threat. We know exactly what’s going to happen out there. What people are capable of. No second guessing on my end.”
“I know you’ll get them back. Tomorrow morning we’ll be together again. I’ll make a huge pancake breakfast for the entire crew. We
’ll swim in the lake, kick back and enjoy the hard work we’ve put into the farm,” she said, barely believing her own words.
Alex didn’t fully believe it either. He never spoke a word of pessimism about their chances of rescuing Ryan and Chloe, but she could see it in his eyes. See him calculating the odds. They had no idea where the asteroid hit, if it had really been an asteroid. Alex didn’t seem convinced. None of them could reconcile the EMP effects with the government’s version of what had transpired this morning. The only data point that gave them all hope that it hadn’t been a hostile nuclear detonation came from Alex’s early-morning observation.
He determined that the fading light from the initial flash had been centered on a true bearing of one hundred and seventy degrees, which was east of Boston—possibly out to sea. The tsunami added credence to this theory.
Asteroid or nuclear weapon, it didn’t change the fact that the explosion had occurred much closer to Boston than Portland, and their son lived on the sixth floor of a fifty-year-old, fourteen-floor dormitory tower overlooking the Charles River. The implications hadn’t escaped either of them. The tsunami would be bigger, sweeping down the Charles River and flooding the campus. The blast and wind effects of the initial strike would be more devastating, causing serious external damage to buildings, and the seismic effect of the impact would be more pronounced, resulting in structural damage.
Alex would never say it, but his body language betrayed the elephant following them from room to room. Their rescue mission stood a good chance of turning into a recovery mission.
“I wish my parents would use the damn satphone. I’d feel better knowing that everything is all right out there. Is there any warm water at all?” he said and stripped down to his underwear.
“None, according to Sam,” said Kate. “I’m sure your parents are fine. We’ll be out there soon enough.”
“They’re not exactly spring chickens, and technology kicks their asses—unless it’s the Internet. They’re all over that.”
Kate laughed. “They have more of a social media presence than I do.”
“More than both of us,” he said and paused. “This may sound strange, but I hope that both of their cars are out of commission.”
“I had the same thought. Driving around isn’t a good idea right now.”
“Especially for those two. The worst would be if one of the cars started on the first try, and they just drove into town, still oblivious. They’d lose the car at their first stop, or worse.”
“Limerick is a tight community. I wouldn’t worry about them,” said Kate.
“What we saw tonight is the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Ed’s Jeep carries more real-world value than the combined bank accounts of everyone in Scarborough. Don’t be surprised if we end up walking back from Boston.”
“Just stay in touch with the phone. Use your portable solar unit to keep it charged.”
“Unless we’re talking all day and all night, the phones should last pretty long,” said Alex.
“Humor me. If you end up walking back, we might not see you for several days.”
“I may have to talk Ed and Charlie into hiking a little further than I suggested. We can’t afford to lose the Jeep.”
“Good luck hauling Charlie and Ed that far,” she said quietly.
Alex leaned in, bringing his smelly body closer to hers. She tried not to react to the strong aroma of stagnant, rotting mud.
“Between you and me, I’m not taking either of them across the Charles—unless the situation requires it,” he whispered. “If I can convince them to guard the Jeep, all the better. Getting in and out of the city with our kids will require mobility and concentration. They’ll slow me down,” he whispered.
“These guys came through for you before. You’re not exactly a trained commando.”
“Compared to Ed and Charlie, I’m Delta Force. I’ll bring them as far as I can without jeopardizing the kids’ safety,” said Alex.
“Yeah, and good luck trying to talk Ed out of rescuing his daughter.”
PART III
“ROADS LESS TRAVELLED”
Chapter 21
EVENT +23:58 Hours
Scarborough, Maine
A thin line of dark blue light pushed gently against the black velvet curtain, barely noticeable through the distant trees. From the second-floor corner window of the Walkers’ house, Alex flipped his night vision goggles (NVG) down and surveyed the green image. The eastern half of the neighborhood was dark. He stared at a fixed point for several seconds, trying to register any movement in the limited field of vision afforded by the goggles. All was still. He moved to one of the front windows and knelt, scanning the houses along their departure route. The green imagery betrayed no signs of artificial light within the homes. He clicked his radio.
“Charlie, you showing anything on thermal?”
“Looks clear,” Charlie replied.
“Same here. First run leaves as soon as you reach the garage. Everyone set?” asked Alex.
Ed’s voice broke into his earpiece. “Loaded and ready.”
“That’s it, then. Drop Charlie at the top of the street, then straight to the fire station and back. No lights,” Alex instructed.
“Got it.”
Alex rested his arms on the rifle attached to his chest by a one-point sling and silently counted the seconds. He heard a deep rumbling by the count of seven and Ed’s voice at nine.
“Door is up. We’re on our way out,” said Ed.
“Route looks clear,” Alex said. “See you in a couple minutes.”
He scooted back from the window and raised his rifle, scanning over the sight through his NVG set. His left finger rested on the toggle switch for the dual-aiming laser. The garage door slid along creaky tracks, breaking the morning silence, followed by a V6 roar. He panned from left to right, focusing on each house momentarily. Even a small flashlight deep inside one of the homes would show up as a bright green flare. The engine idled for a moment; then Ed brought the Jeep down the driveway without headlights. He wouldn’t use them until they reached Harrison Road.
Alex stared over the Jeep, studying each house along the route for light. Clear so far. He checked the Jeep. Charlie stood on the left running board, holding onto the two bicycles bungeed to the roof rack. The Jeep’s tires sucked at the deep mud as the vehicle staggered down the street. Ed was playing it safe. Too safe.
“Come on. Get out of here, Ed,” he mumbled.
He didn’t think the mud was deep enough to trap a 4X4 vehicle, but Ed routinely took the Jeep off-roading, so it was his show. At this rate it would take more than a couple of minutes to make the round trip. When the Jeep disappeared behind one of the lifeless structures along Durham Road, he turned his attention back to the northeast half of the street, drawn to his own house next door. He was too exhausted to process the flood of emotions, so he stared, nearly convincing himself that they would be back to salvage whatever remained. He knew better. They all knew better.
He continued the sweep. The neighborhood represented a mixed bag of memories and emotions. They’d enjoyed a pleasant life on Durham Road, raising two children, tending to the yard, and paying the mortgage on time. Throw in a big vacation each year, and anyone would agree they had a nice thing going. They did—until a microscopic organism changed everything. Changed everyone.
At least three-quarters of the neighborhood had turned over since 2014, which had been a blessing in many cases. Tensions between the two neighborhood factions reached unbearable levels after a brief post-pandemic “honeymoon” period, with kids taunting kids and adults frequently breaking into screaming matches. Most of the “for sale” signs were welcome additions to the landscape. Nearly all of them had been foreclosures. Financial relief measures authorized by the Pandemic Recovery Act hadn’t been designed to help families remain in half-a-million-dollar homes near the beach.
Worsening the crisis, life insurance companies folded en masse during January of 2014. Faced with
an astronomical number of projected claims, most companies quietly faded away into the night, their cash assets liquidated and distributed to surviving executive management. Little remained for the Department of Justice to seize. Millions of insurance policies, designed and sold as the ultimate “safety net,” rarely yielded enough to pay off one of the family’s cars. More “for sale” signs.
Of course, the entire turnover was not finance related. The psychopaths from Massachusetts had murdered two households, using his friend Greg Murray’s home as a base of operations for their reign of terror. Greg’s wife understandably refused to live in the house after learning what had happened. They’d moved closer to Greg’s parents in the Catskills and were never seen again.
Eventually, the neighborhood emerged as one collective group of strangers. Adults avoided eye contact, children were kept close at hand, and doors were locked. The more he thought about it, the less he’d miss the place. His home was with Kate and the kids.
Light bathed the side of Jamie’s house, blinding him. He raised the goggles and searched for the source.
Shit. Come on, Ed.
“Ed’s on his way,” said Charlie.
No shit.
“Ed, turn off your lights,” he said, straining not to yell.
“We almost hit a tree on Harrison Road. I’m not taking any chances.”
“Copy. We’ll be waiting for you in the garage,” Alex said, clipping the radio onto his rifle sling.
He dashed out of the bedroom, still partially blinded from the night vision flare caused by Ed’s headlights. He hit the flashlight toggle switch on the rifle’s hand guard, illuminating the stairs for his descent. Samantha waited in the candlelit kitchen.
“They’re inbound,” he said, blowing out one of the candles on the kitchen island.
Alex flashed his rifle light toward the mudroom to make sure he didn’t collide with anyone lingering in the house. He reached the mudroom door just as Ed’s headlights swept through the garage, spotlighting the group waiting to load up for the last trip.
The Perseid Collapse (The Perseid Collapse Series 1) Page 17
