by Harley Tate
Did the Smyrna city government survive? Would the Cobb County police force still be patrolling? Would officers show up for work without power or working police cruisers?
She sucked in a breath. Preparing for the worst was the best strategy. They had to assume the police and city government were gone and never coming back. That meant the neighborhood was on its own.
Leah thought about her sister’s town of Hampton and its blockade. No one in and no one out. Isolation and protectionism.
It wasn’t the worst idea now. If the neighborhood banded together and blocked the main entrances, they might be able to hold on to their little patch of the country. The Chattahoochee River flowed around the northwestern corner of the neighborhood. They could stake out the section abutting their community and claim it as their own.
That meant fish and water and enough land to grow a community garden. But it would take work.
Leah’s neighbors would need to see the benefit of banding together. They would need to come to terms with this new reality.
She thought about Dr. Phillips and his neighbors. Fear and disbelief kept them from protecting themselves when faced with a nuclear threat. Surely now that the worst had happened, her neighbors would be willing to try.
“Not the best view anymore, is it?”
Leah jumped at the sound of her husband’s voice.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She smiled. “It’s okay. I was lost in thought.”
He slipped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight. “I need to go to Oliver’s place and see if we can get back online. I’m convinced that hacker he talked to is the girl from the Hack-A-Thon.”
“The one who told you about the threat?”
“The one who confirmed it. If I can reach back out to her, we can find out what’s happening in other cities. If I remember right, she was headed to Chicago.”
Leah twisted in her husband’s grasp. “And she’s alive? How?”
“That’s one of the things I’d like to find out.”
“Is she trustworthy?”
Grant hesitated. “She told me the truth about the bombs. At first, she didn’t even believe it. Another kid she sat beside found it first. It was only after she started digging that she took it seriously.”
“Thank goodness she did.”
Her husband nodded. “Otherwise I’d be dead.”
“We both would be.” Leah eased out of her husband’s embrace and shook out her arms. The stress of the past week stiffened her muscles and lodged in her bones. She nodded toward the door. “Go. If you can reach the hacker, find out all you can.”
“It shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”
Leah walked over to the closet and pulled out a pair of sneakers.
“You don’t have to come with me.”
“I’m not.” She slipped her feet into the shoes and called to the dog. “Faith and I are going on a walk.”
“Do you really think that’s wise? Shouldn’t you rest?”
Leah flashed her husband a smile. “If America is under attack from a bunch of terrorists or at war with some nation that is about to invade, we need to prepare.”
“I’ve already boarded up the house. You’ll be safe inside.”
Leah stepped forward and placed a hand on Grant’s chest. “That’s a good start. But we need friends, too.”
Grant shook his head. “I tried that. Ask Oliver. It was a disaster. No one wanted to listen; everyone started fighting or disappeared.”
“Did you go door-to-door?”
“No. I called a neighborhood meeting.”
Leah nodded. Her husband was a good man, but years of working on his own and keeping an eye out for threats to his company dulled his people skills. “If we’re going to band together as a community to survive this, we need to start small.”
She walked toward the hall. “We have to convince people one at a time.”
Grant stared at his wife. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
Leah wished it were true. “I’m just afraid. It’s a powerful motivator.”
He nodded. “Be careful.”
“You, too.” Leah turned and headed down the stairs with Faith on her heels. She stopped in the kitchen and reassembled the trauma kit into the black backpack she’d put together years ago.
It had everything from Band-Aids to aspirin to QuikClot and emergency sutures. If anyone needed help in the neighborhood, she could deliver. First aid would go a long way to building trust.
At some point, she would have to refill or make more kits. A nasty gash would exhaust most of her bandages. A few burns, and she would need more ointment. But for now, it would do.
She slipped it onto her back and adjusted the straps before grabbing the air rifle. No sense in leaving herself completely defenseless. With the gun in her hand and the pack on her back, Leah was ready to bring the neighborhood together.
“Honey?”
Leah paused at the front door. “Yeah?”
Grant hustled after her. “You don’t need to stop by Stan and Debbie’s place.”
“Why not?”
“They’re dead.”
Leah swallowed. “Do I need to know the details?”
“Half the neighborhood watched Stan die in the street.”
She sucked in a breath. It was worse than she feared. “Did anyone help him?”
“I did.”
Leah rushed up to her husband and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“It was the right thing to do.”
“So is this.” She squeezed his arm. “I’ll be back before dark.”
“I will, too.”
“You better be.” Leah smiled one last time at her husband and tugged open the front door. The afternoon sun hit her face and she glanced down at Faith. “Ready to make some new friends?”
The little dog stared up at her, solemn and unsure.
“I’m scared, too. But we’ve got to take a chance. No one can stay an island forever.”
Chapter Three
LEAH
Rose Valley Lane
Smyrna, Georgia
Sunday, 3:00 p.m.
Leah checked her watch and stared down the street. Three hours until the sun would hug the tops of the houses. She wouldn’t be able to get very far, but at least it would be a start. She glanced down the street in both directions, trying to decide where to go.
Stan and Debbie were out. Harvey next door didn’t like dogs, so not a good first stop. But Becky and her husband Jeff two doors down might be a good choice. Leah headed that way with her shoulders back and a smile on her face.
The couple had moved in two years ago after they got married and had been friendly additions to the neighborhood. Leah walked up their short driveway and stopped at the front door. The shutters on the front of the house were closed.
Leah knocked on the door.
Faith whined at her feet and Leah glanced down. “It’s okay. They like dogs.”
No one answered. She knocked louder. “Becky? Jeff? Is anyone home?”
“They never came back.”
Leah turned around. Jennifer’s husband, Greg, stood in the middle of the street, arms folded across his chest. His barrel of a belly stuck out above his pants and his arms rested on top. He didn’t smile.
She tried to keep her voice light. “How do you know?”
“They always go out Friday nights. Date night or something. Jeff was always gloating about it.” Greg tipped his head toward the garage. “Cars aren’t there, either.”
Leah ran her tongue over her lower lip. There were no windows to a single garage in the neighborhood. If Greg knew it sat empty, either he broke in or found a way to manually lift the garage door to check. Neither option gave Leah the warm fuzzies.
Faith echoed her unease with a low growl and Leah bent down and rubbed her back.
“What’s with the dog?”
“We adopted her.”
Greg snorted. “B
ad timing if you ask me.”
I didn’t. Leah exhaled. “How’s Jennifer?”
“She’s fine.”
“And the boys?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Do you all need anything? First aid? Medicine?”
“Electricity would be damn nice. So would a hot meal or a cold beer. You got any of those?”
Leah’s cheeks heated. “No. All out.”
“Too bad.” He lapsed into silence, but made no move to leave.
Leah hesitated. She never understood why Greg had taken a dislike to her and Grant, but whatever the problem, no matter how nice Leah was to Greg, he always had the same bad attitude.
She tried once more. “Do you know anyone who’s sick? I’ve got a few supplies. I can try and make them comfortable.”
“Doesn’t look like you’re very good at it.”
Leah bit her tongue to keep from saying something mean. She knew her looks would be a problem, but Greg never gave her the benefit of the doubt. He always saw the worst in anything she or her husband did.
In the spring he’d complained about their tree encroaching on the street. In the fall, he complained about their leaf bags taking up too much space. In the winter, it was their fireplace stinking up the neighborhood.
He never gave them a moment’s peace and Leah couldn’t figure it out. She steeled herself and tried one last time to diffuse the hostility. “I know I look rough, but it’s not easy to give yourself stitches without a suture kit. Now that I’m home, I’ve got my supplies. Please, do you know anyone who needs help?”
“Other than Stan? Not a one. But I guess it’s too late for him, isn’t it?”
“I wasn’t here.”
“No, you weren’t.”
Leah exhaled. “Look, Greg, I don’t know what your issue is with me or my husband, but I’m only trying to help.”
“Take it somewhere else. We don’t need it.”
“But some of our neighbors might.”
“Your husband sure would like that, wouldn’t he? After his show the other night, getting up in front of everyone to tell us what to do and how to act.” Greg shook his head and the disgust in his tone was plain. “He’s not in charge around here anymore, no matter how much he wants to be.”
Leah blinked. Was that what this was all about? She swallowed hard as a memory hit her. Way back when they first moved to the neighborhood, the builder held elections for the neighborhood homeowner’s association. Grant ran against Greg and won.
But Grant hadn’t served on the HOA board in years. At least five other neighbors had been elected since then. Leah swallowed. Had Greg let his resentment over losing fester this long?
She sucked in a breath. “I don’t think Grant wants to be in charge of anything. He only wants to help. Just like I do.”
The door to Greg’s house opened and his wife called out. “Babe? Are you done? I need you inside.”
Greg shouted into the street without turning around. “Be there in a minute.”
“It’s an emergency.”
He scowled at Leah. “Stay out of our business.”
Leah didn’t say a word as Greg turned around. His wife, Jennifer, stood in the open doorway of their home, watching.
As they both disappeared inside, Leah finally exhaled. So far, she wasn’t getting the warm welcome she expected. Maybe the next house would be better. She bent down to pet Faith. “How about we go to the Petersons’ house? They’ve got little girls who would love to pet you.”
She headed toward the end of the street with Faith by her side. As she stepped onto the Peterson’s driveway, a slamming door caught her ear. Someone down Canary Avenue shouted.
Faith lowered into a crouch and flattened her ears. Leah walked to the corner, air rifle in her hand and ready.
As she crossed Rose Valley Lane and headed down Canary, another shout rang out and Leah could finally make out the words.
“You can’t take that!”
Laughter echoed down the street. Leah glanced down at Faith. “I’m going to check it out. If you want to stay here, you can.”
The little dog glanced up at her and growled. “I know, it sounds bad, but we can handle it.”
Faith seemed to accept Leah’s answer, tentatively advancing down the sidewalk, ears perked and listening. Leah followed, rifle gripped in both hands. She slowed as a pair of boys came into view.
Tall and lanky, with broad shoulders and spindly legs that grew faster than their muscles could, the pair were unmistakable. Greg’s boys, David and Preston.
Leah ground her teeth together.
The pair had always been troublemakers. First riding their bikes all through the neighborhood when they were younger, right over Leah’s flower bed by the mailbox and Debbie’s day lilies. Then revving the engines of their dirt bikes at all hours and tearing down the middle of the street when little kids were out on the playground and in their yards.
The neighborhood association had fined Greg and his wife more than once, but it never seemed to change the boys’ behavior. Now that Leah understood Greg’s hostility a bit more, it made sense. He was bitter and taking it out on the entire neighborhood through his own actions and those of his boys.
Leah eased down the street, keeping to the edge of the houses to stay unobserved.
A woman Leah didn’t know stood on her front lawn gesticulating at the brothers. “You can’t just walk back there and steal my propane. I need that to cook!”
The older brother, David, held a propane tank with both arms. “So do we.”
“Then find your own.”
Preston laughed. “We did!”
Leah couldn’t believe it. They were stealing a neighbor’s propane tank? What on earth for? It wasn’t like anyone could have any meat to cook at this point. A week without power and anything refrigerated or frozen was rotten.
She stepped forward. “If that isn’t yours, you need to give it back.”
Preston turned toward her voice. With a short spring haircut and a golf shirt on, he looked like the spitting image of his father. He recoiled as he looked her over. “What’s it matter to you?”
“I care about right and wrong.”
He scoffed. “Whatcha gonna do? Call the police?”
His brother joined in. “How you gonna get ’em here? Last time I checked there’s no phones, lady. No cars. There aren’t any rules anymore.”
“Just because there aren’t police doesn’t mean there aren’t laws. Stealing is a crime. You need to give that back.”
“I don’t need to do anything.” David turned toward Leah and waggled the tank in his arms. “You gonna shoot me?”
She exhaled. There was no point in talking to the boys. They wouldn’t change their minds because she asked them to. Her afternoon was going from hopeful to miserable and there was nothing she could do about it. Walking away wasn’t an option.
If she let them take the propane tank, what would be next? Her truck? Someone else’s food? Leah brought the rifle into position. “Wouldn’t be the first time this week.”
Preston’s eyes widened and he eased closer to his brother. “David, come on, man. She’s got a gun.”
“She won’t shoot me.”
“You want to take that chance? One bullet in the center of that propane tank and the whole thing will explode. You’ll be blasted into a million little pieces and so will your brother.” Leah didn’t even know if that was true, but it sounded scary, so she went with it.
David kept the bravado going, but his voice cracked when he spoke. “My dad will kill you for that.”
“Funny, I ran into your dad just now. Does he know what you’re doing?”
Preston shifted on his feet. “Put it down and let’s go.”
“No way. We need it.”
“How about I turn around and go tell your dad what you’re up to?”
“David, come on.”
“Shut up, Preston. She’s bluffing.”
“What if I’m not?�
� Leah stepped closer, keeping her head bent on the sights of the rifle. “What if these are the last few moments of your life?”
Chapter Four
GRANT
2210 Canary Avenue
Smyrna, Georgia
Sunday 5:00 p.m.
Grant pushed up to stand. “It was worth a shot. Maybe we can try again tomorrow.”
Oliver nodded. “I’ll have to set up solar panels to charge the batteries, so maybe in the evening?”
It had been a frustrating few hours trying to access any part of the web with no success. Grant headed toward the door. “If you manage to get online tonight, come find me.”
“Will do.” Oliver remained hunched over his computer, trying in vain to reach out to the invisible world.
Grant let himself out the back door, locking the door handle before pulling it shut. Like all the houses in the neighborhood, Oliver’s backyard sported a concrete patio and a postage stamp bit of grass. No more than ten feet separated the houses, and the strips of land in the middle were full of gravel or mud or some combination of the two.
The perils of new developments. Every neighbor knew everyone else’s business and fights with open windows carried several houses away. If Leah couldn’t bring the neighborhood together, Grant worried what living on top of each other would mean for the future.
When your neighbor a handful of steps away was starving, would you share the last of your food? If someone down the street couldn’t contribute to the community, would everyone still let that person stay?
The more Grant thought about it, the more unease soured his stomach. He ducked through the gate at Oliver’s fence line and shut it behind him, wishing his fears would stay in the backyard.
As he hit the road, two things caught his attention: his wife with her air rifle in the middle of the street and Faith flat on her belly, snarling in his direction.
“You won’t shoot me!”
Grant spun around. Greg’s two good-for-nothing sons stood twenty feet away. One held a propane tank to his chest and the other looked like he was about to bolt.
