by Mike Kraus
“I’ll just hang around and keep watch.” Barbara moved to the three rifles sitting on the counter. The weapons weren’t charged, but they had each had full magazines in their magazine wells, ready to be used at a second’s notice.
Marie turned the pan heat to low and stomped over to her, snatching Barbara’s hand before she could pick up her gun.
“We’ll take an occasional peek outside.” Marie admonished her with a click of her tongue. “I promise. Now get a hot shower while you can and come back so we can eat.”
“Go, Mom!” Linda echoed the older woman’s sentiment.
“Yeah, go,” Jack called as he dashed to grab the paper towels off the counter.
“Okay, okay!” Barbara said, her reluctant tone coming out more genuinely than she intended. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.” Linda gently shoved her away.
She moved across the living room and stepped into the short hall that led to their master bedroom suite. The room was silent, cut off from the kitchen noise and last evening’s violence. With the house cleaned up and the smells of cooking sausages and sauerkraut wafting through the air, the battle and subsequent deaths of four men in her home felt like something from a dream – yet it’d happened.
Stepping into the master bathroom, Barbara sat on the edge of their whirlpool bathtub and untied her shoelaces before removing her boots and placing them in the corner. She peeled off her socks and sighed as the air cooled her feet, still uncomfortable in her clothes that felt painted on, saturated with sweat and blood and tears, her skin tacky beneath the material. She stripped everything off and kicked it to the corner of the bathroom, eyeing it with a sneer. Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at the rat’s nest of hair sprouting from her ponytail, then studied the bruises on her shoulders, upper right arm, and thighs. No matter how much she ran through the events of the previous evening in her mind, she couldn’t recall how she’d gotten some of them – and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, either.
Barbara turned to the shower and started the water, holding her hand beneath the flow, waiting until it got warm. It seemed vaguely wasteful to have the generator running all day, but she’d been too tired to worry about conserving fuel. Her only desire was to wipe away the nightmare and pray for her husband and daughter’s safe return.
Barbara opened the door, testing the heat of the water with her foot, about to hope in when something buzzed from a corner of the room. She ignored it first, getting a leg fully into the shower before the buzzing came again and she realized in a flash that it was her phone. Despite a flutter in her belly, Barbara hesitated to step away from the warm embrace of the shower, thinking about all the times it had buzzed only for it to be some random news item she’d already seen a hundred times. Still, though, even if the chances of it being Tom were small, it was still a chance.
She padded over to the pile of bloody clothes, squatted and fished through her jeans pocket until she found her phone. Flipping it around, she saw not a typical news-related notification icon on the home screen, but a text message notification, instead.
Tom?
Her hands shook as she quickly unlocked her phone and read the message.
We’re safe. Got to shore. Heading north. Almost to VA Beach. Will find a ride home. Don’t worry about us. Stay safe!
Barbara sat stock-still, her body shocked through with numbness. She should be over the moon with emotion, shouting and laughing and crying, but reality wouldn’t register even as she read the words over and over again, taking in the information without truly believing it.
“Don’t worry about us,” she whispered. “Stay safe.” She spoke the words again, a trembling smile on her lips. “Stay safe.”
Falling to her knees in the stained pile of clothes, she held the phone like it was a bar of gold, a slow swell of tears forming in her eyes. She pressed it to her cheek as if she could feel her husband through it. “Easy for you to say, Tom.”
For a moment, it felt like he was standing right next to her, sharing in the dry humor. He wasn’t, but he was alive. And so was Sam. They’d made if off the Navy vessel and were probably somewhere in Virginia Beach. Eventually, her body caught up to her mind, wrapping around the truth of the message.
Tom and Sam are alive.
Heat blossomed from her belly and slowly radiated through her arms and legs, her head beginning to spin as rays of hope pierced her heart. She read the message again and again, the words becoming blurrier as her eyes traced from the first letter to the last.
“He sent it a day and a half ago. That’s not very long.” She whispered, then quickly replied to the message, letting him know she’d gotten his text and that everyone was okay, that the Everetts were helping around the house and boy did she have a story to tell him. A laugh of pure relief escaped her, followed by a hitched breath that caught in her throat as she grinned, the news finally striking her like a ton of bricks. Barbara tried to rise but staggered forward, catching herself against the wall with a shivering arm. Her knees were weak, but she fought it, the urge to let Linda and Jack know too strong to fight against.
She walked carefully from the bathroom in a daze of emotion, and only when she’d gotten halfway down the hall did she realize that she was naked. Laughing, she ran back for her robe, shrugged it on and tied it tight, then she picked up her phone and left the bathroom, gaining speed and strength as her emotions rose through her, burning away her exhaustion.
She rushed into the living room, holding the phone up for everyone to see. Sam and Linda were seated at the table, messing around with a tablet game they played against each other on the Wi-Fi while the Everetts were still cooking, gliding around the kitchen with speed born of efficient practice. Linda was the first to notice her mother in the living room, holding up her phone with her wild mess of hair sticking up everywhere.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” She kicked her chair back, stood, and circled the table. “What is it?”
Darren and Linda both turned to see, curious and a bit wary.
“Your father and Sam are okay,” she said breathlessly. “They’re near Virginia Beach! They got our text, and they’re okay!”
“Are you serious?” Linda eyes went wide.
“Yes!!” Barbara angled the phone toward Jack and then back to her daughter so they could both read it. Linda came over, narrowed her eyes and scanned the words, her face lighting up with joy when she saw it was true while Jack leapt from his chair and started whooping for joy. For her part, Smooch partially raised herself on her one good leg and woofed, more at the boy’s raucous excitement than anything else. Marie and Darren both came out of the kitchen, beaming smiles on their faces, and Marie embraced Barbara, whispering in her ear.
“I’m so happy for you, honey.”
Barbara wiped away a tear of joy and nodded in agreement. After a moment, her phone continued to buzz and beep as more new alerts poured in, and she turned it around to look at the screen.
“Is it more from Dad?” Linda asked, beside herself with excitement, though her face dropped as Barbara scrolled through the headlines, slowly shaking her head sadly.
“No, they’re not from your father. It’s just more phone outages, riots in Raleigh and Richmond, fighting breaking out everywhere. Several cities are locking down and under curfew.” She stared at them all in turn. “Everything is getting worse. Much worse.”
Darren smiled grimly, looking at Marie who gave a nod of agreement. “Well then. What do you say you go get cleaned up, we finish our dinner, and then we all sit down and come up with a game plan?”
Chapter 20
Tom, Virginia Beach, Virginia
A cold chill ruffled the tent’s flap and walls, thick canvas material keeping out the worst of the cold, but some slivers still slipped through, sharp as knives, finding every patch of exposed skin and reminding all in its path of how deadly it could be. The din of voices grew and fell as refugees streamed past nearby, kept under control by FEMA and the mil
itary, disorder and chaos still being kept at bay by the watchful eyes of those in charge.
The trio sat on foldout chairs inside the tent, sipping on bottled water and hot coffee as they waited for a promised “someone” from the Navy to come in. Tom leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, facing the entrance, drinks at his feet, long since ignored and forgotten.
Private Packar had offered Jean and her kids a cot in another tent, which the woman eagerly accepted, telling Tom her family hadn’t slept in more than a day, and they desperately needed to rest before moving on. Tom had encouraged her to get some sleep while they could, and while he wanted to keep the family nearby as potential witnesses in case something went south, they had no responsibility to him, and were likely far safer for leaving sooner rather than later.
“What do you think they want you for?” Jerry asked.
Tom shook his head and gave a knowing sigh. “I bet they flagged us as potential survivors of the research vessel we were on when the anomaly burst open.”
“You were on a research vessel?”
“The Marin,” Sam added.
“I think you might have mentioned that.” Jerry scrunched his eyebrows. “What were you guys doing out there?”
Tom flashed the young man a grim look. “Navy work.”
“They took us from our vacation,” Sam added. “They wanted my dad to check out the anomaly.”
Jerry turned on his stool to face Tom. “So, you’re saying you were out there at the anomaly. Like, studying it?”
“We might have left that part out,” he admitted. “Sorry for keeping you in the dark. It didn’t seem important while we were dealing with the hurricane, plus parts of it were classified so…” Tom shrugged. “It wasn’t intentional, I promise. And it’s not like it would have made any difference in the moment.”
“No, that’s cool. I completely understand. And it makes sense now, that you know so much about what’s going on.”
“We were only out there for a few hours, but we witnessed the anomaly’s power. We measured the pressure spewing out which made it easy to guess the desalination levels of the surrounding ocean. The rest, the part about the cold, was mostly my own theory.” They fell quiet, Tom wondering if anyone else had made it off the Marin. The last time he’d seen his co-worker, Sue Anne, and Lieutenant Colonel Rachel Banks, they were heading for a free fall lifeboat.
After what seemed like an eternity, a sergeant with the name tag of Z. Landry stepped inside and stood with his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes slid to Sam and then Jerry before resting on Tom.
“Sir, can I see your identification, please?” the soldier spoke in a clipped tone.
“Yeah, sure.” Tom retrieved his ratty wallet, removed his driver’s license, and handed it over.
Landry studied the ID while glancing at Tom’s face, obviously thrown off by trying to match the clean-shaven man in the picture with the scruffy-looking, weather-ravaged man sitting before him. Satisfied, the soldier returned his ID with a thin smile.
“Thanks, Mr. McKnight. They’ll be glad we found you. Your name was at the top of my list. You must be pretty important to be that high. We’ve had crews out looking for you the past week when you didn’t show up among the bodies.”
Tom glanced at Sam in confusion before addressing the sergeant. “I appreciate the extra concern, but we just want to get home. My wife and other children are hunkered down at our farm near Bristol. Can you help us get there? I’d take a horse and buggy at this point.”
“You can talk to the lieutenant colonel about that,” the sergeant stated flatly. “Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to see her.”
Tom, Sam, and Jerry all started to rise when Landry turned and blocked the exit.
“Just you, sir.”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Private Packar.” He gestured to Sam and Jerry. “This is my daughter and a close family friend. We’ve been through hell to get here, and I’m not letting them out of my sight.”
Tom expected the sergeant to put up a fight, but he shrugged and gestured for them all to follow him from the tent. As they crossed the bustling camp, he lifted his eyes and spotted a series of mobile structures set up at the far end of a theater parking lot.
“That must be where we’re headed.” Tom muttered. The main portion of the camp spread across the theater lot but extended into an apartment complex and department store. Military personnel patrolled the grounds while medical staff guided injured refugees to white tents with red crosses sewn into the roofs. Humvees and Jeeps escorted tractor trailers that hauled heavy construction equipment along the main highway, heading toward Virginia Beach. Glancing back, Tom watched the refugees flood across the railroad track checkpoint they’d recently come through, the line extending as far as east as he could see.
Samantha shook her head as she followed Tom’s gaze. “There are thousands of them.”
“Looks like a lot of tourists.” Jerry added, Tom nodding but not replying.
Sergeant Landry led them out of the grass and into the theater lot where they strode quickly toward the mobile structures which were set up in an X-shaped configuration with the largest room in the center. Several storage sheds and a mess hall lay off to the side, all of it guarded by armed soldiers, each of whom was dressed in cold weather gear.
“Where are we headed, Sergeant?” Tom asked as he stuck to the man’s hip pocket.
“Right there.” Landry pointed to a section near the crux of the cross. They moved to a set of metal stairs and climbed to a square porch where a guard nodded and opened the door. The sergeant gestured for the trio to go inside and Tom went first, entering a conference room with a long table, several chairs, and a flat-screen monitor resting on the far wall while Samantha and Jerry brought up the rear.
“Have a seat while I set things up.”
Tom circled the table and found a chair close to the screen while Sam and Jerry settled on the opposite side. The sergeant worked with a small video control panel on the table, pressing buttons and adjusting things until the screen filled with a bright blue color and he raised a phone to his lips.
“Lieutenant Colonel Banks, are you there, ma’am?”
At the mention of the colonel’s name, Tom’s heart skipped a beat, and he glanced at Sam, her eyebrows lifted hopefully as well.
Sergeant Landry continued. “Yes, ma’am. We’ve got Tom McKnight here with his daughter and a family friend. We can patch them through now. Yes. One moment.”
The man hit another button and stepped back as Rachel Banks’s face appeared on the screen. She sat in a conference room similar to the one they were in, wearing a beige military shirt, slightly stained and wrinkled, the worry lines at the corners of her eyes deepened since they’d last met, the dark circles above her cheeks speaking volumes about how much she’d slept.
The normally stoic officer smiled and nodded. “It’s good to see you, Mr. McKnight. You too, Samantha.”
“Hello, Lieutenant Colonel Banks.” Sam gave a slight wave.
“This is Jerry,” Tom introduced the young man.
“Hello, ma’am.” Jerry nodded respectfully, his expression awe-struck.
Tom spoke the next words with breathless relief. “I’m glad you made it off the ship.”
“It was a rough ride,” Banks replied. “We got to the lifeboat and launched with eight people aboard. Hit the water hard and motored out of the danger zone. We drifted for twenty-four hours before they picked us up.”
“Sue Anne?”
“She was with us,” Banks nodded confidently. “She’s fine.”
“Thank God,” Tom breathed. “Thanks for getting her out of there.”
“Not only did we get her out, but Sue Anne’s here in Washington with us, working on the project.” The colonel arched an eyebrow. “Frankly, I’m surprised you made it. That little raft of yours didn’t seem like much.”
“It wasn’t, but it was fast. We got out of there in
a hurry, then we watched the Marin go down.”
“That was a good ship.” Banks gave a respectful nod before shifting in her seat. “Look, Mr. McKnight. I need to speak with you alone. If you don’t mind sending Jerry and Samantha with Sergeant Landry.”
Tom gave the pair a nod, and they stood and followed the sergeant through another door at the rear of the room.
Once they’d gone, Tom spread his hands. “I’m all ears,” though on the inside he seriously doubted he wanted to hear what the lieutenant had to say.
“I’ve got a chopper on the way to pick you up. I need you back on the project with Sue Anne and some others.”
“The last time you guys picked me up in a helicopter, it almost got me and my daughter killed.” He poked his index finger on the table. “It almost killed us all.”
“This is just a simple ride to Washington. No boats this time.”
“What for?”
“We want you back on data analysis. Sue Anne is doing a great job, but the woman needs to sleep, and we’ve got some people up here who think you can make a real difference.”
“There's no more I can do.” Exasperation crept into Tom’s voice.
“I doubt that. You’re one of the best engineers the country has.” Her voice took on a more somber tone. “And we lost a lot of good people on the Marin. People with skills that overlap with yours.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Tom’s voice took on a genuine tone. “But I don’t have anything else to contribute. You know the anomaly can’t be stopped. And I read that the president announced the upcoming temperature shift to the public. Hell, it’s already much colder out. I need to get home and prepare my family. Can you have the helicopter take me there instead?”
