It was either that scenario, or the three of them would have to leave.
Jon’s mind raced back and forth trying to come up with alternative scenarios. It wasn’t that he wanted the Foster family to leave. There was always safety in numbers, and it would be easier defending their position with five people versus only two. But they would need to keep themselves replenished by launching repeated scavenging missions into town and the surrounding countryside, which was hardly a reliable way to find food or other necessities, not to mention it was extraordinarily risky to venture out from the walls.
Jon rested his bearded chin in the palms of his Yeti-like hands. Roy was his friend, one of the few he had. Ordering him to leave would be difficult. Roy would naturally be resistant and try to persuade him otherwise, and an open argument that could possibly turn to physical blows wasn’t something Jon was too keen in getting involved in.
Maybe, instead, he could let them stay for a few days more, once they had seen that Ben was recovering. By then, Jon wondered if he could make a more effective case to Roy that his family staying longer was not logistically feasible considering their limited resources. He could offer to protect Ben and help nurse him back to health, and to further sweeten the detail he could even offer to let the three of them visit intermittently.
Jon reclined back in his rocking chair and tried to relax, but the thoughts of the dilemma swirling around in his brain prevented him from feeling any peace at all.
It was either allow Roy’s family to stay for two to three months and use up his stockpile, or force them out and keep everything for himself and Ben for the long term.
Choosing between the two wasn’t a decision Jon wanted to make, but it was one he knew he had to.
Jon stood up from his chair, put both hands in his pockets, and stared outside the window at the abandoned town. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly.
He had made his decision.
Chapter 5
Since the emergency operation had been completed Ben had stayed fast asleep. Alex watched over him from a chair across the room, curious to see when he would wake up again. She had nothing else to do since arriving in Jon’s house, so watching a wounded man sleep on the couch was her only real way to pass the time. She also was already spending an increasingly significant amount of her time at Jon’s house sleeping, due to fatigue from her lack of insulin.
Ben was deathly pale and the pillow and couch were both soaked completely through in his blood, tears, and sweat. If it weren’t for the shallow breaths he was taking, anyone would have thought he was dead.
Meanwhile, Jon, Roy, and Josie were gathered around the table feasting on MRE’s, though ‘feast’ was hardly the appropriate term to use. Nobody who had ever eaten an MRE had exactly looked forward to eating them again. Roy and Jon were more than used to chowing them down from their time in the military, but Josie was consuming her meal much more slowly. As hungry as she was, the MRE was hardly appetizing, and she only ate it out of necessity to refuel her body.
Upon completing his meal Roy got up to go set his plate in the sink and then returned with his Beretta 92FS and one of Jon’s cleaning kits.
“Mind if I use this?” Roy asked.
“Go for it,” Jon’s mouth was filled with food.
Roy removed the 15-shot magazine from the Beretta and ejected the live round from the chamber. Inserting the round back into the magazine, he set it aside and then disassembled the weapon in one swift, fluid motion. He proceeded to spray the cotton swabs with gun oil and began cleaning the dirt and grime from the internals of the gun.
Roy had much experience with the Beretta. It had been his issued sidearm when he was an officer in the military, and upon returning home after active duty in Iraq and Afghanistan, one of his very first acts was to head down to one of the local sporting goods stores and purchase a nearly identical civilian model for himself, along with ten spare magazines and over a thousand rounds of bulk ammunition.
The Beretta was a large and heavy all-steel Italian-made pistol with a manual safety on the slide and a double action/single action trigger, meaning the first trigger pull was long and gritty but all subsequent pulls were short and crisp, at least until the weapon was emptied or decocked. The gun was nearly twice the size of Jon’s favored Glock 19, despite firing the identical caliber and having the same capacity.
Jon watched Roy clean the pistol as he finished up his MRE.
“I gotta ask,” Jon said. “Why do you still carry that big slab of metal these days?”
“It’s a good gun,” Roy was running a cotton swab through the barrel. “Served me well for a long time, as well as our country.”
“It was a good gun for its time, I’ll grant you,” Jon cleaned his mouth and fingers with a napkin. “But it’s indisputably outdated now. With a Glock 19 you get half the size and weight and yet equal the firepower. Not to mention superior reliability.”
Roy chuckled as he turned to cleaning the inside of the slide. “You know, Jon, I think if the Glock truly were the better weapon the military would have chosen it over this so-called ‘slab of metal,’ don’t you think?”
“I’m just saying,” Jon pressed. “I see no reason as to why you would continue to use archaic weaponry when there are far better options available.”
“That’s your opinion,” Roy said, not looking up this time from cleaning the Beretta.
This gun debate may have started off friendly, but he was getting more and more annoyed by it by the second.
“Well, I have plenty of Glocks in the safe,” Jon relaxed back in his chair. “Once you wise up, just let me know and one of them can be yours.”
Roy rolled his eyes. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve chosen my weapons carefully.”
“Suit yourself,” said Jon. “But all I’m saying is if I had a family to take care of I’d want the best weapons and equipment I could possibly get my hands on.”
“What’s your problem, dude?” Roy set the cleaning tools down firmly on the table and looked up confrontationally.
“I don’t have a problem as much as I’m making an observation and speaking my mind.”
“Well, I think you mocking me for not having the same gun you do is about the most immature way of speaking your mind that you can possibly do.”
“Oh come on, this is absolutely ridiculous!” Josie loudly interjected from her position on the table. “Why are we arguing over guns when we have far more important things to discuss?!”
Roy and Jon both shut up. Josie continued: “Ben and I had insulin for Alex, but we were forced to leave it back in town when we were fired upon. So unless if you’ve got a healthy supply of insulin here, Jon, heading back into town to retrieve it needs to be our top priority.”
“Hate to break it to you, but by now, I’m guessing somebody else has taken it,” said Jon.
“You don’t know that,” Josie growled. “None of us do, but the only way to find out is to go back and look for it. Because listen, if she goes long enough without it, Alex…she’s just going to get worse and worse, okay?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll find it,” Roy assured. “We’ll head out as a team tonight under cover of darkness.”
Jon stood up from the table and carried his plate and utensils into the kitchen.
“There isn’t just any way you can manage her complications without it?” Jon asked as he deposited the plate and fork in the sink.
“Jon, we need the insulin,” Roy said firmly. “You can make her more comfortable, yes, but you can’t fix it on your own. She’s already gone too long without her medicine and quite frankly I’m surprised she isn’t doing worse already.”
“I’m feeling fine!” Alex had overheard their conversation from the living room and walked into the kitchen. “Just a little more tired is all.”
“Go back into the living room, hon,” said Roy, admiring his daughter’s spiritedness and tenacity. “We’re talking.”
“I can hear everything you guys are sayin
g anyway,” Alex held her ground.
“You need to watch over Ben,” said Roy flatly. “If he wakes up or moves at all, let us know, okay?”
Alex rolled her eyes and retreated back into the living room with a hefty sigh. In any other scenario Roy wouldn’t have tolerated even the slightest sign of disrespect from his child, but considering the circumstances and the subject matter of the conversation he didn’t feel like delivering a parental lecture right now, so he let it slide.
After a few seconds of silence, Josie spoke up again: “The simple fact of the matter is we need that insulin, Jon, and Roy and I are going to have to go get it. Whatever you want to do is up to you.”
“And don’t forget about the bows,” Roy pointed out the two compound and crossbows that he and Jon had hidden in one of the buildings in Carleton. “It definitely wouldn’t be wise to just leave them behind. We can pick them up while searching for the insulin.”
Jon could see there was no convincing them otherwise.
“Alright, I’ll go,” he decided. “But no matter how small of a unit we may be it’s important to maintain discipline and keep a chain of command. So I’m in charge, alright? That means I say what to do and where to go and the moment I decide it’s too risky out there and say we need to return back here, I expect the two of you to do it without question or delay. Deal?”
“Deal,” agreed Roy. “And one more thing that Josie and I have been wondering. These hostiles we’ve all been encountering, who are they? Any idea?”
Jon shrugged. “How the hell should I know?”
“We think they’re working together,” said Roy. “In addition to the guys we’ve all been fighting, Josie said she and Ben encountered another armed group while working their way here. And like I told you earlier, Alex and I had a run in with three or so guys on our way up as well. These guys are all armed with semi-automatic weaponry and decked out with camouflage, tactical gear, battle rattle, you name it. These aren’t regular dads and husbands defending their families or anything like that. These are militia members working the area as one big organized unit. And from what we’ve seen so far, it appears they’re looking for trouble.”
“It doesn’t mean all these little militia groups are united,” Jon returned to the dining room table and sat down. “They could all be separate and working independently.”
“That’s possible,” said Roy. “But possible does not necessarily equal probable either. They’re all in the same area, and using similar gear and tactics. Because of that we have to assume they’re working together. You know the area, so do you of anyone or any organization in the general vicinity who would have a small private army like that?”
Jon thought for a moment.
“No, I can’t say I do,” he said.
“In that case, the next time we have a run in with them we need to take one alive,” said Roy. “We need to find out if they’re all working together as one force, and if so, who their leader is.”
“He’s waking up!” Alex called from the living room.
The three of them rushed from the kitchen to the living room to see Ben was indeed stirring awake on the couch.
Josie kneeled down next to him. “Hey, tough guy.”
“Hey,” Ben could speak only quietly and with great effort. “Thank you.”
“That’s what friends are for, right?” Josie asked.
Ben looked behind her to see Jon and Roy.
“This is my my daughter Alex and husband Roy, I think you saw them before back at the bunker,” Josie could see the confused look on Ben’s face.
“Yeah, I don’t think Roy was too fond of me then,” said Ben.
“From what Josie tells me, you helped keep her alive,” Roy said. “For that, I’m indebted to you. But it doesn’t make us friends yet.”
“Understood,” said Ben.
He next look over at Jon.
“Jon,” Jon nodded. “This is my place.”
“Do you need anything?” Josie asked.
“Maybe just some water,” Ben said. “That would be good.”
“Okay, one sec.” Josie left to go fetch it, leaving Ben with Roy, Jon, and Alex.
Roy took advantage of the moment to set up to the side of couch, towering over the wounded Ben who lay there helplessly.
“Listen, kid,” Roy spoke with authority in his voice. “I know who you are, and I know who you were with. You took direct part in the attack on our house. Affirm.”
Ben nodded warily.
“Then don’t get too comfortable,” Roy warned. “Because you’re not a part of the family, and you never will be. Right now, you’re our prisoner, and it’s only because you helped my wife stay alive that we didn’t leave you for dead or put you down. And one more thing, I don’t want you to say one small word to my daughter or touch a single weapon in the house, not even a butter knife. Because if you do, it’s life back on the streets for you. And considering your current state of health, that’s equivalent to a death sentence. Do you understand?”
Ben nodded again.
Josie returned with the water, and Ben gulped it down.
Chapter 6
Roy and Jon geared up outside behind the walls for the upcoming expedition into town. They had decided to venture out at night and were using what little remained of daylight to suit up and prepare.
They both reloaded their pistol magazines to full capacity. As before, Jon had two Glock 19s, one in each thigh holster so he could access a gun with either hand, and with a total of four spare magazines secured to his belt. He kept his Glock 26 backup, which he continued to keep a secret from everyone else, wrapped above his ankle and concealed under his khaki cargo pants. Roy just stuck with his trusty Beretta 92FS on a hip holster on his right side, with two spare magazines on his left.
They debated bringing their AR-15s with them for extra firepower, but both decided against it since they would also have to pick up and carry their crossbows and compound bows once they recovered them in town. Pistols would have to suffice for now.
Jon had a small tactical daypack prepared for each of the three of them. Each pack contained a basic first aid kit, tourniquet, LED flashlight, a liter of water, protein bar, tactical knife, compass, paracord, a case of matches, cotton balls with Vaseline, notepad and pen, and a poncho.
“You armed?” Jon approached Josie.
“Yeah,” she replied, presenting her Smith & Wesson Shield that she had recently reloaded.
“Take this instead,” Jon handed her a spare Glock 19 in a nylon belt holster with an extra magazine.
“Thank you, but I’m fine with what I have,” assured Josie.
“Look, it’s not because I’m a Glock fanboy or anything,” said Jon. “But it’s got double the capacity of that little thing you’ve got there. And I have several of these so giving one up is no loss to me, especially if it’s for a comrade. Just take it. You’d rather want it in a gunfight, trust me.”
Josie relented after a moment and accepted the holstered Glock into her hands. After another moment, she strapped it to her belt.
* * *
“How you doing, tough guy?” Josie asked Ben in the living room while Roy and Jon continued gearing up outside.
“Well, I suppose I’m doing as good as anyone else who’s been shot three times,” Ben managed a small smile.
“Glad to hear it,” she said. “I’ll be honest with you, I didn’t think you were going to make it. But you’ve pulled through like a tiger.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m out of this yet,” Ben wiped some sweat from his forehead, wincing from the internal pain that came from moving his body around in the process.
“Still, everything happens for a reason,” said Josie. “So that means you survived for a reason. Have you thought about that?”
“Not really. I’ve never really been sold on the whole fate and ‘fulfill your destiny’ thing, you know?”
“Well, all I can say is if I were as badly injured as you and pulled through I wou
ld be wondering why God spared me. One more thing, I want you to take this. Use it if you have to.”
She set her Shield down on the floor and then scooted it underneath the couch.
“I reloaded it, so you have seven shots plus one in the chamber,” she continued. “I’m counting on you to protect my daughter if anyone besides us comes through that door, okay?”
“I can’t take that,” said Ben. “I’m sorry.”
“Please, do,” Josie insisted.
“I mean your husband won’t allow me having that,” said Ben. “He made that clear before when you weren’t there.”
“Well, he doesn’t have to know,” said Josie. “When we return I’ll take it back. I just need someone who can defend Alex if worst comes to worst.”
“In this state?” Ben asked weakly. “I can barely stay awake or move a muscle without feeling like I’m being tortured in hell itself. You best give it to her instead.”
“Alex doesn’t have much shooting experience so the best she can do to stay alive is hide,” said Josie. “At least I’d rather have her do that than try and fight back. Anyone breaks though and Jon has a hideaway safe room in the walls upstairs she can retreat to. So I’m counting on you to do the fighting, okay?”
“Okay,” Ben relented reluctantly. “I’ll try.”
“ I thought there was no try,” Josie grinned. “Do or do not, right?”
Ben couldn’t help but grin back.
“Well, in that case, I’ll do my best,” he assured her.
* * *
Night had fallen over Carleton, and the moon and stars shined brightly to illuminate the buildings and streets of the little south Idaho town.
The moonlight revealed a dark humanoid figure darting across a trash littered street from one building to another.
The EMP Grid Down Trilogy (Book 2): For Honor Page 4
