by Kate Morris
They all three pull out their binoculars.
“Without these woods being filled in with summer foliage and leaves, we need to be careful,” John advises, although he really doesn’t need to.
“Yes, sir,” Simon answers.
“See anything?” Cory asks them.
“Nothing yet,” John answers. “They could be in one of the other buildings. Maybe the mansion was flooded. If…”
“I see something,” Simon blurts in a fervent whisper.
“What do ya’ got, Professor?” Cory asks.
He pauses before answering. Then he brings his rifle around in front of him and looks through the high-tech scope. “Men. South of the house. Movement. It’s hard to see how many. There are too many trees on the grounds.”
“Oh, yeah, I see them,” Cory says. “A lot of people down there for just some random, small group. Think it’s them?”
As his eyes adjust to looking through the binoculars, he can see dim lighting inside the huge, stone mansion, as well.
“That’s my guess,” John says quietly.
Simon swings his rifle to their north and spies. “Mine, too.”
“That place is huge,” John states.
“Thirty-six rooms according to the book,” Simon announces as he continues to peer through his scope.
“Nerd,” Cory teases.
“Imbecile,” he returns immediately.
“Limestone, huh, Professor? Isn’t that what you said earlier?” John asks.
“Yes, sir,” he answers. “The other buildings are mostly brick. The main structure is limestone.”
“Tough to blow a hole in thick limestones,” John says.
“Do you think this is where the others came? Here?” Cory asks them. “Or do you think it’s just the senator and his part of the group?”
“Maybe,” John answers. “Let’s get a closer lookey-look.”
Cory nods, and they all three stand together.
“Professor, hang back. Cover us,” John dictates, and Simon crouches back down to one knee.
“Yes, sir.”
“Both of you watch for drones, too,” John reminds them.
Cory follows John as he carefully creeps closer to the mansion of impenetrable stone. They zigzag down the hill and come to a long, once green and neatly maintained and mowed back yard, which probably looked like a golf course in its heyday. There is definite movement and sound coming from the home and grounds. It is imperative that they are not seen tonight. This went south once already. They may not get so lucky as to find them again, which will empower them to go on the offensive against the farm, their town, and undoubtedly more innocent people on the roads.
Simon’s voice comes over his headset, “Movement in front of you.”
Cory freezes and slides behind a tree to his right. John does the same to his left.
Simon reiterates, “Stop. Do not move.”
“How close?” John asks.
“Maybe forty yards. Guards on the back terrace of the main house,” Simon tells them as they wait. “Ok, move. They went to the other side of the house.”
They keep going, and when they come closer to the house, they split apart so as not to cluster together and make a bigger shadow. Cory makes it within twenty yards of the house but knows moving closer could get them spotted.
“I’m going high,” he says into his throat mic.
“Roger,” John states.
He climbs a large oak tree and shimmies his way silently toward the top branches that become spindly and weaker.
“I’ve got eyes on some of the interior rooms,” he says.
Cory watches as people move around inside the mansion. For this late hour, he’d think they’d be asleep. Most people don’t burn lamp oil or run generators for late night book reading or whatever they’re doing.
Spotting a man inside carrying a wooden crate, Cory tries to track his movement as he walks into a long room with antique portraits hanging on the walls. He leaves the room again without the crate. Then another man brings in a different box, and still, another carries a plastic tub full of items, some which stick out the top.
“Looks like moving day,” Cory whispers.
“I’ve got the same,” John replies. “I’m coming back toward you. Move out.”
Cory climbs down and meets him behind a small potting shed made of the same limestone as the home. John sends him a signal to split up, so Cory keeps moving to his right, going south. The grounds are definitely unmanicured because he catches his pants leg on a prickly bush growing out of what was probably once a nice hedge row. He’d memorized the map of the place as best as he could before they left, so he should be coming to a reflecting pool area where they used to hold wedding ceremonies. When he hears two men’s voices, he crouches quickly behind the bushes. The sounds are muffled, likely a distance away but still too close in his opinion. When they trail off and become silent again, Cory continues forward. He keeps going until he comes to a building that is also lit, this one more brightly. He thinks it is the botanical garden center.
“I’m at the student arts building and restaurant,” John tells them. “Lot ‘o movement going on over here.”
“Should I move?” Simon asks their commander.
“Hold your position, Professor,” John tells him. “If anyone comes out of that main house and goes into the woods or back yard, let us know.”
“Roger,” Simon answers to the affirmative.
It’s probably bothering his friend that he’s stuck in the back field playing spotter, but they need his eyes for this to work. Neither he nor John have been to this place before, so they could easily screw up, make a mistake, and get caught with their asses hanging out.
Picking up the pace, Cory comes within thirty yards of the botanical building and squats behind a wide stone water fountain that no longer gurgles. Beneath his feet are bricks, although the path has become slightly more one-with-nature than the landscape artist had intended. Behind him, it continues down into a courtyard. He remembers seeing quite a few different gardens for weddings and outdoor venues in the book. He thinks that one might’ve been the Japanese garden, but he hasn’t committed their names to memory yet. They may need to when they plan their invasion just for communication purposes during the fight. If in fact, this group of people is their highwaymen. He’s getting a clearer picture that it is. It’s not just a family trying to survive the apocalypse.
This building is something important. There are guards outside brandishing weapons. He skirts around the building and takes up a position slightly further away on the south side. Then he sees the same stretch of woods behind him and jogs into them to benefit from even better cover. A second later, a white van pulls up in front of the building, and he has that gotcha’ moment he’d been anticipating.
“This is them,” he reports quietly. “I’m south of the botanical garden building, and a Gaylord Resort van is parked out front. They’re unloading multiple vehicles full of supplies.”
John says, “Ditto that on this side. Get a count and double back.”
“Over,” Cory replies.
He tries to get an accurate number of guards and even catches sight of women carrying boxes of goods from the back of a pick-up truck parked in front of the building. Then he double times it back to Simon without incident.
“What have you got?” he asks his friend.
“A lot of people, hundreds. You?”
“Ditto. And women, too.”
When John joins them again, they share intel, split up and find safe positions to spy for a few hours. His friend also saw women. There is another building they haven’t checked out yet, the main guard shack, which is actually a stone building the size of a small home. John is guessing they’ll find the same, and Cory agrees.
They finally leave around four a.m. and drive to a meeting spot and wait for Dave, who shows up right on time. He looks stressed out and pissed off. He lost men to these assholes. His eyes are bloodshot, his body language
stiff, and his funny quips are coming up short tonight. All in all, none of this is a good sign for the highwaymen. Their friend wants his revenge. This has become personal for all of them. These bastards are racking up a body count on people from their towns, their compounds, and their personal friends. Cory wants blood, as well.
John explains what they’ve seen while Cory and Simon hang back and await further orders and instructions.
“How’s it going with Samantha?” he asks as he perches on the hood of the car. It reminds him of the car he was restoring with his dad back in Arkansas before this shit happened. He likes it, has fun driving it, but the car also reminds him of his father, which stings in a hard way. Cory wonders if that ever fades completely, losing someone, or if it just lessens slightly with time. For the most part, not thinking about any of his family has been the best method he’s found. Anytime he finds himself dwelling on his mom or dad or, even worse, Emma, Cory tries to lock that shit down and close the lid. Opening it is like a Pandora’s Box of horrors that he’s forced to face over and over again.
“It’s not. I tried to…flirt the other night and just came off as a jackass,” Simon answers as he leans his right hip against the car and rests his rifle on the other.
“Yeah, I’m not makin’ much progress with Paige, either,” he teases. It’s kind of true also. She’s still pushing him away and has erected that safety wall between them. It’s fine with Cory. He’s good with explosives. He has one such blast planned for Paige’s wall in the near future, too. It should be enough to knock her off her feet, convince her to trust him and bring down that barrier she has erected between them.
“You’re hilarious,” Simon jabs irritably.
“Have you told Sam yet?”
Simon hits him with a look that lets him know he has not and that he finds this line of conversation annoying. So, naturally, Cory continues it.
“I could help you if you want,” Cory says. “I used to do pretty well in that category.”
“Do you really think I need you to remind me of that?”
He chuffs. “Yeah, guess not. Your sister wasn’t part of that, though. I never intended on… well, what happened with her to happen. I’m not a total dickhead. I respect the bro-code.”
“Except when you don’t. And then, of course, you completely forget the bro-code and act like a total asshole.”
“Right,” Cory agrees with shame and looks up at the clear night sky. No cloud cover is making it a lot colder tonight than usual, and he can see his breath coming out in gray plumes. He can also see every star in the dark sky. This would be even better if Paige was with him. They could lay on the hood of the car and stare up the stars together. She could rest her head on his arm. He could caress his fingers through her thick hair. “But I am in love with your sister, bro. I’m not giving up on being with her.”
“Why? You know you’re just going to get bored and jump to someone else.”
Cory flinches. “That’s not true, Simon. I want you to know that my intentions are honorable, even if my method wasn’t.”
This time Simon chuffs through his nose.
“I’m more concerned about you, though,” Cory tells him. “What are you gonna do about Sam? She’s gonna end up with Henry. I mean, did you see the way she reacted when she heard he might’ve been killed?”
“I’m not blind,” Simon answers quietly. “And don’t remind me about that jerk. He’s the reason she’s limping around.”
“It wasn’t really his fault. It was one of those freak accidents. You just want to kick his ass ‘cuz he’s making a play for your girl.”
Simon sighs heavily and doesn’t answer because he can’t argue with this. They both know it’s true.
Cory takes pity and doesn’t razz him about Henry. He does ask, “Whatever happened between you and Sam, you can fix this. Make some big move, some grand gesture.”
His friend doesn’t answer but flicks the ring of his rifle sling back and forth as if he’s nervous to say something.
“What did happen?” Cory asks carefully so as not to seem like he’s just prying for information. Simon is still his friend, and he cares about him and wants him to be happy. At this point, Cory is relatively confident that only Samantha can make that happen.
He doesn’t think Simon is going to answer him because he pauses for so long, but then he finally does. “She…she told me she loved me and I rejected her. More than once.”
This is a colossal confession because Simon usually won’t talk to him about his problems or anything too personal. He is clearly embarrassed about discussing it and disclosing his own mistakes because he says it very quietly.
“Oh, shit,” Cory says softly. “That is… wow. I don’t know what to say. Wait a minute. Why the hell’d you reject her?”
He just shrugs and replies after making sure they are far enough out of earshot from the others, which they are, “Because I felt like I didn’t deserve her. She’s too good for me.”
Cory laughs this time and gets a nasty look from his friend. “Hell, brother, all women are too good for us. We’re lucky any of them even like us enough to be in the same room with us, let alone love us.”
This makes Simon smile crookedly. “That’s probably true.”
“But why would you think like that? You and Sam are perfect together.”
He shrugs and looks up at the horizon on the freeway before them with abandoned cars and trucks. Then he looks back down at his rifle sling’s hardware again.
“How come, Simon?”
“Because of what we went through with my aunt’s people. I felt like I failed her.”
Cory takes a deep breath and holds it, slowly releasing it. He hadn’t known this, and it makes him feel like shit that he didn’t. Maybe he could’ve talked to Simon and explained it to him that nothing he did or didn’t do back then was his fault. He doesn’t know what all happened to either of them when they were with the visitors, but Cory has speculated from their behavior, especially when they first came to the farm and agreed to stay on with them weeks later that it was pretty horrific, the stuff of nightmares. He doesn’t press the issue now, either. That’s their business, not his.
“You’d never fail Samantha, and she’d never accuse you of doing so, either. You guys were just kids anyway,” he says, trying to be comforting. “It’s not like you could’ve done something or you would have.”
Simon nods, but Cory wonders if it is because words are too difficult. Shit. He’s not good with this kind of a discussion. This is Hannah or Sue or Doc’s forte. His efforts would be better put toward discussing how to rebuild the tranny in this car or tactical maneuvers or playing football. Not this. Never this.
“You’re kinda’ screwed now,” Cory tells him, trying to lighten the mood.
Simon immediately picks up on it and gives it right back, “Gee, really? I know that, genius.”
Cory laughs again. “No, seriously. You’re gonna have to woo her back. You’ll have to be the bigger man, bigger than Henry, and that’s gonna be hard because he’s a good person.” At Simon’s glare, he laughs. “He is, bro. You know he’s a good guy. If she eventually does choose him, you’re gonna have to be ok with that and let her go.”
Simon hangs his head as if he is already defeated.
“It doesn’t mean it’s too late, though,” he explains and slides off the hood to stand closer to his friend. “If Samantha loved you once, she can still love you. I’m sure of it. She’s just angry, and I don’t really blame her, either. Telling someone you love them just to be rejected is hard. I’d know. I’ve told Paige that many times, and she doesn’t reciprocate.”
“Then why keep pursuing her?”
Cory shrugs. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I don’t want anyone else. She’s it. She’s the one.”
Simon regards him with a hard frown and looks away as if this truth is too much to process right now.
“You need to talk to Sam. Tell her how you feel.”
“I’ve tried,” Simon admits. “I either get interrupted, or she shuts me down before I can get two sentences out.”
Cory nods with understanding. “Yeah, I get it. Not a whole lot of privacy on the farm, either. Tomorrow, I’ll help you. I’ll tell her that I need to see her in the cabin, and you can be there instead.”
“That’ll just piss her off.”
“She’s already pissed. A little more isn’t gonna make things worse. She needs to hear this from you, Simon.”
His friend bites the inside of his cheek, crosses his arms over his chest, and nods.
“And, hey, sex never hurt a good wooing discussion, either,” Cory jokes and laughs. Simon scowls as if he finds him disgusting. “You better get a book on it from the library first, though.”
Simon rolls his eyes, and Cory laughs loudly.
“Hey, guys!” John calls to them and inclines his head that they should join them, which they do.
“I’m sending a group in tonight. We’ll use your same path. I’m going with them,” Dave tells them.
John says, “Sounds good. We’ll need to keep eyes on them just like before. Watch out for those drones.”
“As far as I’m concerned, we move forward with the date we originally set for next week,” Dave says. “I’ll be over tomorrow to discuss it. Meet in town?”
“You got it,” John says and shakes Dave’s hand before they leave their separate ways.
“He wants to attack next week?” Simon asks, the hesitation in his voice obvious. “Isn’t that a bit soon?”
John doesn’t answer. He stares out the windshield as he drives them home. His silence makes Cory uncomfortable because, for the first time since he’s known John, he wonders if his friend and mentor is finding within himself that place that no man likes to visit called self-doubt.
Chapter Eighteen
Sam
Henry arrives on the farm the next morning with Dave and two other men for a meeting after breakfast during which Simon sends him dark glares full of daggers. It creates an uncomfortable atmosphere in the music room where they are seated since so many people are dining with them and the actual dining room is full. They were supposed to meet in town, but the plans changed after Dave and a few of his men followed a group of the highwaymen out of their new hideout and ended up just north of the farm. They thought the men were scouting for people to rob but ended up looting a few restaurants along the way, which, as Sam knows so well, have been picked clean over the years. She’s not sure what they could’ve possibly found for food, but Dave said they looked like they were carrying pots and pans and dinnerware. They either must not have enough or left everything behind at the Gaylord. Dave showing up so early in the morning unexpectedly had not been an unwelcome sight. Everyone likes him well enough. The fact that they brought a five-pound bag of coffee with them had made them even more welcome. Sam never really liked coffee, not even the fancy, foamy, and ice-laden ones from the popular chain shops. However, the big house soon smelled like coffee and brought with it the comforting scent of home. Her father had been a huge java binger, which used to bother her mother because she thought it wasn’t good for his health. She doesn’t think Grandpa would agree with her mother’s assessment. He’d been especially thankful for the gift, and Sam is sure that’s why Dave brought it. Their mean, hard-core, cussing ally has a soft spot for Grandpa.
