It wasn’t going to work. He took two of the backpacks out, rearranging contents so he placed all the C4 in the remaining packs and plenty of ammo, then handed the bags with the grenades and heavy ordnance to Kari. She opened her mouth and he fixed her with a flat, “don’t-argue-about-this” expression. Kari’s nostrils flared when she yanked the heavy backpacks from his hand and settled them into her saddlebags, her body language screaming loud and clear this conversation wasn’t over yet. Mike exhaled in relief. Fine. At least it wasn’t happening now.
Mike drove carefully up the Mount Eden bypass, almost certain he could feel Kari’s eyes shooting lasers into the back of his head. The thought brought a smile, and the painful recollection of their quiet, tense blowup in the Muldraugh woods, and the incredible sense of sexual tension and need that filled the silence afterward. He knew she was right; being two bags light on ammo, especially the flame thrower and grenades, would hurt him. It might even screw the mission completely. But the resistance in Norfolk was pinned, and they needed help, fast. A lot of people – possibly hundreds – could die if Mike backtracked around every broken down junker or dead tree in the middle of the road. Mike nodded to himself. It was the right call, and that was the approach he would take for the upcoming fight. And there would be a fight, as sure as there was bourbon in Kentucky.
Kari said nothing when they arrived at the old farm. They pulled into the driveway, and the old white house winked at them sadly. Its gutters were torn down, and one of the shutters was gone, giving it a slightly cockeyed appearance. Mike walked over to the side door and opened it as if he owned the place … which, he probably did now, Kari realized with a start. Mike didn't invite her in, but he didn't tell her to wait, either, so she followed. She walked slowly, respectful of the dead and their belongings. Amazingly, the house had not been ransacked; it seemed it was far enough out in the country no one was bothering with it ... yet.
Mike’s grandmother had collected little doll figurines. An entire showcase of them, lightly coated with dust, was the first thing Kari noticed when her eyes adjusted to the light. Mike paid no attention, moving around the familiar house as quickly and efficiently in the dim light from the windows as he would have with full electric lighting. He gathered a large paint bucket, filling it with assorted hand tools, duct tape, gloves. He scrounged through a basket near the door, frowning at the delay. “Shit. Come on, Pops, where are they?” he muttered to himself.
Not finding what he’d been looking for, Mike stalked back out the door, leaving the bucket of hand tools beside his bike and heading to the neat white garage behind the house. Kari followed more slowly, carefully closing the door behind her. The sharp sound of breaking glass startled her and she whispered a guilty “Sorry” to the strong presence of Mike’s grandparents that lingered on their land. She glanced over to the rose trellis in the back yard, and looked quickly away. Mike had told her what was there, but it wasn’t her right to gawk.
“Excellent!” she heard Mike exclaim as she approached the now-vandalized door of Mike’s grandfather’s garage. It was a neat work space, with each tool laid out or hung exactly where it belonged. It was the kind of workshop Kari’s dad had always wanted, and had even started to create once he’d gone on terminal leave. She pushed thoughts of her father away and concentrated on Mike’s delight.
“Eighteen-inch Craftsman,” Mike said, holding the chainsaw up. “Cross your fingers, Kari.”
Kari stepped back slightly while Mike braced, then choked and pulled the cord. Nothing. He pulled again, and there were a few timid revolutions, as though the chainsaw were trying to decide if it wanted to function. On the third pull, it roared to life, sounding as loud as the Harleys in the small, tidy garage and stinking just as badly. Mike revved it a few times, and then turned it off, satisfied.
He moved over to Poppa’s five gallon gasoline tank, knowing it would be full. He was wrong – it was only half full, but it was more than enough to fill the gas reserve, and there were still the three twenty-gallon fuel containers in the side car. He checked the oil reservoir in the chainsaw and picked up a bottle of 2-cycle engine oil and a funnel. Mike tossed the funnel to Kari, who was quick enough to catch it and glare at him. He grinned back and ransacked his grandfather’s man-cave for several more tools, including a hand axe, tow chains and another heavy tire iron, before heading back out to the bikes. Again, Kari closed the door behind them, wishing there were some way to make the broken window less … jagged.
The sun was high overhead when they returned to the tree. With the proper equipment, Mike cleared the way – at least for motorcycle travel – in fifteen minutes.
“Gonna get you one of them orange vests and a hard hat,” Kari teased as she mounted up. Mike stowed the tools and grinned at her.
“Just at the bottom of this hill, there’s a Walgreens on the left,” he said, wiping the sweat from his face. “If Jesus loves me, there will be some Gatorade in there, and there might also be a razor blade or two for the Old Bear. This has taken a lot longer than I thought it would, Kari. I need to know you’re back on your way to Knox before it starts getting dark.”
Kari said nothing, gazing down at the valley below, the small houses of Shepherdsville visible only through peeps in the trees.
“Agreed?” Mike pushed, his voice hardening automatically into that no-nonsense tone that always intimidated the children into obeying him quickly.
Kari smiled demurely. She didn’t think Mike even realized when the “alpha” came out in his voice … but she also wasn’t one of Iron Mike’s “kids.” She shaded her eyes and looked up at him. “How about we get the Gatorade and razors first, okay? The place may be completely looted. Hell, it may not even be standing.”
Mike wasn’t happy with the answer, but he nodded sharply and mounted his motorcycle, maneuvering it carefully through the passage left between the tree and the ravine. If anyone needed it, there were six-foot long chunks of firewood sitting on the side of the road, not cut to size or stacked, but there for the claiming.
The Walgreens was still standing. Its automatic doors were long since shattered, and the shelves thoroughly looted of anything useful. Mike walked through the store slowly, sadness weighing on his stomach. It wasn’t that the drug store had been looted; he expected that, of course. It was that there was so much destruction involved in the looting, senseless rage directed at standing displays of books, cards, or other items deemed suddenly useless in this new world. He checked the dark coolers, already knowing there would be nothing, and then wandered over to the toy aisle.
Most of the merchandise was strewn onto the floor, but he saw a few toys he thought the children would like. A Monopoly game that was crushed on one side but still intact. A small stuffed panda Jennifer would like. Several sets of Lego’s, though most of them were busted open and the pieces scattered. Mike considered the items and thought about the lack of storage space. He left the Monopoly game and Lego’s, but kept the panda, tucking it into the pocket of his fatigue jacket. He turned, gasping to see Kari right behind him. He’d already been reaching for his gun. Jesus, he was jumpy!
“Sorry,” Kari said, not meaning it. It was good to stay alert, and Mike had done more than his share of sneaking up on her in the past to test her reflexes. She grinned and held up her bounty: three razor blades – two Gillettes and a Venus – and several packages of refill blades. It was a pink Venus. Mike chuckled, nodding at the woman’s product. “You should give that one to the Old Bear first, just to see his reaction.”
“Hell, no!” Kari laughed. “He’d use it on his face, and that’d dull the blade! This baby’s mine!”
Mike grinned, happy their stop was at least partially successful. “Well, one out of two,” he said. “Not only no Gatorade, but nothing liquid at all – not even that pisswater Mountain Dew you used to drink,” he shot over his shoulder as they headed out of the store. Kari grumbled something back, and they stood by their bikes. Mike glanced at the sun, then down at his watch. It
was already 1630.
Wordlessly, Mike hugged Kari. They didn’t say goodbye – they never said goodbye to each other. Something Kari read somewhere, or saw in a movie, about goodbye being its own self-fulfilling prophecy.
“Be careful,” Mike said instead, glancing toward his bike. “You should be able to make it back in less than an hour, since we did so much backtracking.”
Kari nodded, biting her lower lip. “Yeah. Um … about that.”
Mike’s eyes became wary, then hardened to ice. “No,” he said flatly.
Kari shook her head. “It’s already done,” she replied, and hurried on. “I left the report and requisition forms on my cot – it would’ve been all neat and pretty, too, with aims and objectives right on top if it hadn’t gotten Mike-bombed. The gist, though, is that this needs to be a two-man mission for the highest chance of success, not a solo.” She looked into Mike’s cold eyes, and her voice hardened as she finished. “You need backup, Mike, and I’m the best one for it. In fact, we both know I’m the only one available.”
Mike shook his head, frustration giving way to outright anger. “You just can’t do that, Kari!” he snapped. “You can’t just ignore the chain of command like some little princess just because your daddy’s in charge!”
Kari’s brown eyes blazed. “If you’re trying to piss me off, Corporal, then you’d better use loaded ammo, not blanks! No one on Knox works harder than I do, and not one person would accuse me of using my father’s rank. That is pure bullshit, and you know it!”
Mike pushed into Kari’s personal space, his blue eyes icy and his voice hard. “Then follow orders, Private,” he almost snarled, emphasizing each word.
“I am,” Kari said with determination. She stood straighter, and looked directly at him. “'I will exercise initiative by taking appropriate action in the absence of orders. I will not compromise my integrity, nor my moral courage.'”
Mike glared at Kari furiously. This was a fight all right, but not the one he’d been expecting. “You want to talk pure bullshit, Kari, quoting the creed is bullshit! Sneaking out of camp and leaving a note to Daddy on your cot isn’t ‘the absence of orders’ – it’s sneaking around legitimate orders! And it sure as hell isn’t integrity!”
Kari blinked. The words hit home, but they didn’t change her mind. “It is what it is, Mike. Deal with it. I’ve been thinking about this since last night when I heard the mission was a go. My father didn’t assign me as your backup specifically because he’s my father! He doesn’t see that as a lack of integrity, either, he just sees it as being my dad. If Rogers or Kelton had been available, or even Ricochet, one of them would have been assigned to go with you, but they’re in the field so there was ‘no one’ available.” She paused, taking a breath.
“And you’re right,” she continued, her voice judicious. “Sneaking out of camp like a kid trying to score some pot is bullshit, Mike, and I know that. But the bigger picture here isn’t about my daddy issues – it’s about this mission. And all night long, I thought about the different ways it could play out, you know, all the different scenarios you could run into. And I knew my dad made the wrong call. This is not a solo mission. All three of us know that.”
Mike was the one to look away first. He sighed, the sound still angry, and ran his hand over his too-short hair, wiping the sweat from his face. “You know I can handle this, Kari. I’m fast on my feet - I get in, and I get out.”
Kari was careful to keep any impression of victory out of her smile. “I was with you in January, remember? I know you can handle it. You brought me and ni – an entire group of kids safely to Fort Knox, through horrible weather and the worst part of the war. It isn’t a question of competence, just logic. You stand a better chance of getting in and out if we go in together and cover each other’s asses.”
He had noticed the slip. Of course, he had. Kari saw it in his eyes, the moment she almost said “nine kids.” She wanted to kick herself for the raw pain something not-said caused him, but she couldn’t erase the memories from Mike’s mind. She couldn’t even do that for herself.
Mike nodded slowly. “You are such a pain in the ass,” he muttered, turning to his bike again and reaching for his helmet.
Kari gave a quick fist-pump into the air, then settled onto her own bike and strapped her helmet on with a grin. Mike started his engine and looked over at her balefully before lowering his visor. “You know how pissed the old man’s going to be, right? We’ll both be cleaning latrines for the rest of our lives.”
Kari’s grin widened. “Maybe he’ll have time to cool off while we’re gone,” she said, pulling down her visor. Yeah, right. That was about as likely as a squad of leprechauns sending the aliens home on a Lucky Charms rainbow. She shrugged it off. It was the right decision. She knew it in her gut, and Dad would have to live with it. It was a different world now, and she wasn’t just his daughter anymore. She was a soldier in the U.S. Resistance Force, and with that came the adult responsibility she had managed so successfully to evade for four years after high school. She smiled grimly. And she swore she would never join the Army!
March 14.
Mike
The drive from Louisville to Lexington would have taken an hour and change before the invasion. It was close to 1900, and the light was beginning to fade from the sky when Mike gestured to the exit. They approached it cautiously, having learned the hard way that on and off ramps seemed to be the most treacherous parts of the interstate roadways. Unlike Louisville, large parts of Lexington remained standing; there were even a few lights burning in windows of private homes – either candlelight, generators, or crank-operated lanterns supplying the juice. They’d heard gunshots several times on their way down. Mike wasn’t willing to risk running into trouble, so he steered away from areas with too much light and led Kari down a wide suburban street that seemed abandoned.
He rode about halfway down the darkening street, finally turning into a driveway. Kari couldn’t tell why he’d selected this house over any other until he slowly drove the motorcycle to the side of the house and backed it in behind a tall hedgerow. She followed suit, more than happy at the thought of some food and a few hours’ sleep.
“You think they’ll be safe here?” she asked, taking off her helmet.
“We’ll have to stand watch. I didn’t see any population in this subdivision, but the engine sounds travelled, I’m sure. If anyone’s close enough to pinpoint them, two Harleys would make an awfully tempting mark.”
Kari nodded and looked over to the abandoned house. There was little chance of finding food or water inside, but a girl could dream, anyway. She pulled her Maglite from her saddlebag and gestured to the house, switching it on. “I’m gonna go in and, um, use the facilities, and check the place out.”
Mike frowned. “I wish we’d brought handhelds,” he grumbled, then glanced at her archly. “I wasn’t expecting to need them.”
“I’ll be fine, Dad,” she teased, setting her helmet on the bike and heading happily up the walk to the front door of their B&B. Glass shattered, and a few seconds later, she was in.
Mike unrolled his lightweight sleeping bag and dug into the sidecar for two MREs. Of course, the rations were on the floorboard of the sidecar underneath the munitions backpacks, so several minutes passed before he’d unpacked their meal. He was beginning to worry, and then looked up as Kari approached. Even in the dark, he could see her beaming.
“This place is a goldmine!” she said with delight. “Mice got into most of the stuff in their pantry, but look what I found!”
Mike grinned and stepped over to help unload Kari’s arms. She was precariously juggling a jar of peanut butter, a box of Ritz crackers, three bottles of Mountain Dew … and a bottle of White Zinfandel!
“Sorry, no Coke,” she said with a smirk. “These people must’ve liked pisswater.”
“No accounting for taste,” Mike grumbled good-naturedly. “God, it’s been ages since I’ve tasted peanut butter! Forget the MREs – we c
an pig out on PB and crackers!”
Kari handed the goodies over to Mike and pulled the Mag out of her pocket before sitting down on top of his sleeping bag, crossing her legs Indian-style. “My thoughts exactly!”
They picnicked in the dark, listening to the crickets while they stuffed themselves on slightly-stale peanut butter crackers and Mountain Dew. When they were replete, Kari shifted around so she and Mike could both lean against the side of the house. It was getting cooler as the sun went down, and now, it was downright cold. Kari pulled at the sleeves of her leather jacket, burrowing her arms inside like makeshift mittens. Mike smiled and moved closer to her to share body heat.
“It’s so different now,” she said softly. “Everything is so quiet, and the stars are so much brighter. I guess with all the factories blown to hell, the air’s clearing up some.”
“There’s that silver lining I was looking for,” Mike teased grimly.
Kari shot him a look, her eyebrow raised archly, and Mike grinned back impudently. She leaned back against the side of the house, her eyes upturned once more. When she spoke again, there was a heaviness in her tone, and Mike knew instinctively this wouldn’t be the time for flippancy, no matter how good an opening she gave him. Her words hit him in the gut.
“Where were you … on Invasion Day? What were you doing? Who were you with?”
Mike was silent so long Kari didn’t think he would reply. She sighed, preparing to change the subject, when she heard his voice, quiet and raw.
He and Jennifer didn't feel anything when his mother collapsed; they heard and felt the sonic booms several seconds later. He had been fighting with Mom again – this time because he didn’t wanted to take Jenn to the salon to get the haircut she’d been promised before school started back. He actually thought his mother might be listening, receptive to his arguments, when she stopped speaking, and then she looked at him so strangely. And she just fell, crumpling in a graceless heap at the foot of the stairs. Nothing Mike did or said helped – not the CPR he performed for several minutes, not his sobbed pleas or apologies or offers to Mom and God that he would take Jen anywhere she wanted to go for the rest of his life. Nothing
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