“I really hate it that I can't do anything,” said Nathan, “So we just sit and wait. I guess that's what we are doing.”
“Don't be too disheartened, Nathan,” added Abigail, “Remember that it was also foretold that God destroys the people who attack Israel. I used to wonder how that would help, after Israel had already been wiped off the map. Now I think it's because there's us to consider. We will survive. And so will the Jews who are not in Israel right now. We have some here, and I'm sure there are other Jewish survivors out there, too.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a special bulletin on the television which stunned the whole crowd, if not the whole remaining nation into silence. A transmission from Al-Jazzera on Arab television had been received by all the still functioning stations, and it was being translated and delivered live. All networks had interrupted regular programming to release this message.
“We have all but defeated both the Great Satan, America and the Little Satan, Israel on this day, the holiest of days to the Christian world. Go ahead strike us with all you have. We are not there. Not where you think we are. We are in your land. Land we will dominate soon. We outnumber you, we out-smart you, and we have Allah on our side.”
“How did they do it?” remarked Mike Edwards to his son, the ex-military man, “How could they have gotten to eighty-six cities without detection?”
“I can't imagine,” he replied. “Supposedly we had a security system that was capable of detecting nuclear components brought into this country. I don't know how they could have done this. You'd think we would have uncovered a plot this big. Cal will find out how they did it, and we will know whether or not the rest of the country ever gets the information.”
“I wouldn't be surprised if they had been telling us all along what they were doing,” said Brady. “They've been threatening both us and Israel for so long we just stopped taking them seriously.”
“Saber-rattling,” Abby mocked the politicians, “Middle-eastern hyperbole. I, for one, never believed that Saddam Hussein didn't have plans to cause us severe damage. Massive stockpiles or not. His type of weaponry didn't require much storage. It could have been put together quickly in a small amount of space. Look how easily they got nukes onto our soil.”
She stopped to notice a message coming through on her cell phone. It was from Cal.
After reading his text, Abigail asked Brady, “Do you have a map of the United States?” He went into the office area in their den and brought back a large, framed map which she placed on the built-in cabinets surrounding the entertainment center. It rested against the bookcases. Abigail positioned herself like a teacher among them.
The kids were still outside gathering hidden colored eggs with the help of Uma and Jodie. Ruthie had come inside to nurse four-month-old Rayetta. Everyone looked toward Abigail to see what Cal had told her.
“All the cities that were hit are along waterways. Starting with New Orleans up to Baton Rouge, then Memphis, Saint Louis. The rivers branch off toward all directions. Chicago, Little Rock, Des Moines, Minneapolis. These are all cities on major rivers that connect to the Mississippi. It looks like they came up the rivers starting at the Gulf of Mexico. There is only one way they could have done that without being detected—mini submarines. How did they get eighty-six mini-subs? Cal says the Cubans and the North Koreans have them, as well as Russia. This was only accomplished by alliances among all or nearly all the Arab countries, the Communist countries, and Russia.”
“The perpetrators had to have had at least one or two land-based assistants,” said Nathan, but since they're already here by the thousands, that wouldn't have been a problem. They by-passed all kinds of security by not using regular modes of transportation. All they had to do was walk or drive from where the sub landed to their target locations. They seemed to have gone off almost simultaneously. Subs could have dropped off one team, then gone back to get another, and another—all of them waiting and synchronizing their detonations. So they wouldn’t have needed eighty-six, or even half that many.”
“Don't we have sonar guarding our coastlines?” asked Mike. “I thought we had all kinds of ways to protect us from an invasion in the gulf, or at least from drug smugglers. How did we not see dozens of submarines launching into our waters?”
“We stopped the sonar,” complained Nathan, “The President did that by another of his executive orders. It was damaging the eardrums of the whales and dolphins, messing up their internal guidance mechanisms. So they were beaching themselves to death. The animal rights kooks put a stop to all that. Can't have whales die. Oh, of course it's all right that millions of Americans die.”
He added with extreme sarcasm, “Oh, but that won't happen because all we have to do is be really nice to them. Just show them our love, and we'll all live harmoniously together in peace.”
“It's unbelievable,” said Mike, nodding his head. “But since those idiots vote, they have to be bought—oh, I mean have their needs addressed.”
“And yet again,” said Abigail, “we've all been spared. No hits in the west. It’s not like we don't have rivers. What are they planning for us, I wonder?”
“Okay, let's look at this,” said Mike, pointing to the map. “You might as well figure that the entire eastern half of the United States is toast. The enemy plans to live here. This is all that's left of this country now. The only area that can sustain life. We’re going to be invaded, like Cal has been saying all along.”
“Right,” said Nathan, “All the waterways are now poisoned out east. The whole population will be dead in a matter of weeks. This will begin the mass migration we expected months ago. They're going to be heading here in droves. And the terrorists are going to kill us off somehow without harming the environment.
“But we could still stop them,” Nathan continued. “We have military bases in all these states,” he said pointing from the North and South Dakotas down through Texas, but not fortified like ours here. If the terrorists try to block the refuge migration with tanks or even bombs, our military is going to clash with them along the boundaries of these states. But that will be a difficult war to fight with civilians crowding the highways and getting in the way. And of course, they will never receive any orders to fight, just like our guys in the Middle East.”
The kids came bursting through the door, thrilled at filling their baskets with eggs. It wasn't like other Easters had been, for many reasons. No chocolate bunnies, but the women had made cupcakes and Uma's famous fudge which she usually only made at Christmas time. Ruthie, the creative one of the bunch, made fondant from sugar and natural food colorings which she shaped into bunnies, chicks, and carrots. The kids were very pleased, having plenty of sweets. They sensed that they were lucky to have these things in the midst of a crisis they could feel, if not understand.
“Think about it,” said Nathan, unable to stop himself, “We have waterways here in the northwest, too. But they only came from the Gulf. What does that tell you?
“Cuba,” he said as a one-word answer needing no further explanation. “And you know what that means—Russia. Those min-subs had to have been Russian. They can't go that far without re-fueling, so they couldn’t have traveled all the way from Cuba. Larger vessels brought them here. Why were we not aware of this?”
“They could have been manufactured in Cuba,” said Mike. “The Cubans had a mini-sub called the Delfin. I don't know how many they made or how good they were.”
“Either way, they planned this for a long time,” said Brady.
“This is definitely the Biblical Iranian-Russian conspiracy feared and predicted for thousands of years,” said Abigail. “The two of them will divide up Europe and the Muslims will get America.”
“Well, aren't we going to fight them?” announced Stephen Decker, whom they hadn't noticed was listening intently. The boy was much too mature for all of his ten years to care about Easter treats. He had stayed behind hidden in the kitchen to listen to the adults talk about their situation.<
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“We are going to fight them, Stephen,” said Abigail, meaning her words sincerely, “and we are going to win. But we will be safe inside the mountain. It's just like a big city in there. We will go in, and the tanks and planes will come out. They will have a huge battle, and when it's over we'll come out and rebuild everything. We'll make a whole new world and our enemies will be gone.”
“Will Angel and Sarge come with us?” he asked.
“Of course,” said Abigail, “and all the new families, and all of their pets. It's big enough.”
“What about Uncle Brady's animals?” he asked.
“I'm not sure,” said Abigail, “but I wouldn't be surprised if they haven't already made some arrangements for them. After all, they are important food sources. We will need the milk and eggs.”
It was what he wanted to hear. The boy was confident that his world would continue, and some of the adults listening to the conversation felt more confident of that as well; more so than they had an hour earlier. It was unfortunate that her encouraging speech could not have been heard on loudspeakers throughout the camp though.
Morale had been slipping among the Willow Creek Ranch community. Over the past few months numerous families of refugees had been admitted. They had arrived frantic from deprivation of food and water. Some had already suffered the loss of their homes to armed bandits. To the earlier, more established homesteaders it looked like more and more people to be fed and housed with nothing to offer in return. These were the people from Pinedale and other neighboring communities. They had held out in their homes until food ran out. Some scavenged for edible remnants left in neglected trash bins and abandoned stores. But eventually, if they survived long enough, they grabbed what they could carry and headed west.
The first five to ten families came in cars loaded down with all their belongings. They were grateful for their rations and to be in a safe environment. But the later groups arriving at the gates were too desperate to be nice about anything. They had been through hell already, and were not happy to be set up in military-style tent cities with porta-potties at the end of each row. Being angry that the government had failed to protect them, being unable to see anything but misery after a comfortable life in a picturesque little mountain town, they were insane with irrational expectations, and they caused trouble in the more settled parts of the community. Just like all immigrant settlements, the last to arrive had the least resources and adapted more slowly to their unfortunate circumstances.
When Brady McFarland complained about all the work involved with his ever-increasing herds of dairy cattle, goats, and chickens, the army supplied him with workers—and one which became his boss, organizing everything according to mass production standards. These creatures he had loved no longer seemed to be his farm animals at all, but property basically owned by the government. The assigned military personnel handled the operation with adequate efficiency, but Brady missed the days when he had a relationship with them. He liked it better when just he and the kids, with occasional help from the adults, were providing for just themselves, like a big family. He feared that a new world was coming based on military rule, and it would not be the free America under which he had grown up.
“Something's happening on the news,” Stephen shouted, bringing the whole group before the television, which was beginning to look fuzzy. A disheveled looking man held a microphone.
“There are only two of us left here at KRXI Channel 11, Reno. And neither one of us have ever been in front of a camera before. So please excuse us if we don't measure up to our normal professional standards. I'm Matt Cummings, executive engineer here at the station, and operating the camera is Pete Stofer. We are the only ones left here...” he stumbled, holding back tears so that he could talk.
“I have no idea if anyone is out there watching or not. Through the glass window walls here at the station, we can see people running around. They are covered with white dust, much like the dust that fell all over everything at the 9-11 attacks. Only we know that this dust is radioactive. So I'm not going out there. And I don't know why everyone here rushed out into this mess when they should have known better. I suppose they wanted to be with their families… to die with them.
“We will continue to broadcast here for as long as we are able. Of course, there is no national feed, so we can't give you anything from our network...” he cried. “They are all dead out there, and we probably will be, too. Soon. All we can tell you is to stay inside. Go to your basements, if possible. Seal your doors and windows. Do not go outside unless you have a hazmat suit in your closet and a gas mask.
“Our nation is in crisis, ladies and gentlemen. We are at war. We have been attacked in the worst of all possible ways, with nuclear bombs. When all your stations are off the air, I would suggest trying radio or even ham operators in your area for news and information. I have no idea how long the Internet might work. It depends on how long the servers hold out. There will be no IT guys to fix things. We are on our own. There really is no news to report. Who knows if there will be ever again. For whatever it's worth, there are two of us here. We are alone. May God help us.”
The group watched the screen as the man put down the microphone and walked away as the camera continued to show an empty chair behind an empty desk. Then the screen went dark as the camera man obviously left his solitary post. Brady switched through all the channels, but nothing but similar scenes were to be found.
“What happened to the television? Is it broke?” said Claudia, walking in with her basket of colored eggs. She didn't understand them standing there mesmerized by a blank screen.
“There is no more television,” said her cousin Stephen, gently. “But it doesn't matter. It's been nothing but grown-up stuff for ages anyway, right?”
She nodded in agreement. “We've got DVDs to watch,” she said.
“That's a good idea,” said Brady, “You can eat your snacks and watch a movie. We'll all watch. How about a great funny movie?”
“I'll bet Uncle Brady remembers back to what people did before we even had television,” said Uma, joking. She and the rest of the gang followed in right behind Claudia.
“Actually, I do,” he said enthusiastically, “My family was one of the last ones to get a television. So we kids did a lot of things to have fun. We played games. We made things. I don't think you kids will even hardly miss Spongebob that much.”
“Mommy thinks Spongebob is ugly,” laughed Claudia. “I like him though. We have one of his movies. Can we watch it?”
“You bring it here, sweetie pie,” said Brady, “and we'll just cover your mom's eyes so she can't see it.”
“No way,” teased Ruthie, “I want to see Spongebob. Just because he's ugly doesn't mean I don't like him. Right Nathan?” she said to her husband.
“That's right,” he said, “Look at me. All red-headed and freckled. But she fell madly in love with me.”
“Hey,” protested all the red-heads in the room, “There's nothing wrong with red hair.”
Nathan rode alongside Stephen on their bikes to go get the Spongebob movie. It would have been too far for Claudia to go by herself under any circumstances, but now that the newcomers lived in the area ahead of the housing compound, no one felt completely safe anymore. New shelters were being built, and hopefully things would be better for everyone when the living conditions were more equitable. They approached the section where the three RV's were parked.
Near the outermost edge of the area stood a young boy about Stephen's age. He played with a yo-yo then appeared startled to see them coming his way. Turning, he looked toward the RV, started toward it, then spun around the other way, running as fast as he could. Nathan was reminded of the young boys in Iraq who were used as scouts, decoys, and lookouts. This boy had failed at his mission; obviously to provide warning if the residents came home.
“Stephen, listen to me carefully,” he said, bringing them to a stop, and grabbing his handlebars. “You need to turn around and ride as f
ast as you can back to the McFarland cabin. Tell Grandpa and Uncle Jerry that they need to come home—right now.”
“What's the matter, Dad,” he asked, looking alert. “What's wrong? Why can't we go into the house?”
“Just do exactly as I said, Stephen,” he emphasized clearly, speaking slowly. “Somebody is in one of our houses, and you need to go tell the rest of the family. I will be fine, but you need to hurry. Tell them to bring their guns.”
He got it. Stephen sped away as fast as his legs could pedal. Nathan rode slowly and silently to the rear of the first RV and laid his bike on the grass. He snuck up beside the first vehicle and put his ear to the metal siding. Convinced that nothing was moving inside he skipped the middle RV because Sarge was inside. He had been left behind this day since the egg hunting would have been too stressful for him, Mike had decided. Nathan could faintly hear the dog's snoring even from outside. His hearing wasn't so good anymore, or he would have known about the intruders next door.
They had to be in the rear one, he realized. It was the one most hidden from passing traffic. The spot he had picked for his trailer because it offered a view of the scenic hillside beyond. But that was now gone due to the tent city that had been erected. He crept up beside the rear door and opened it silently. Climbing the two steps, he stood against the wall in the semi-darkness of the close quarters between the laundry room and the back bedroom doorway. He heard them in the living room pulling things off the shelves and rustling through drawers. They were probably looking for video games, he thought. They already had a pillow case full of stuff.
The Last Stand (Book 3) (The Repentant Demon Trilogy) Page 12
