“Do you have the maps and documents?” Pastor Pendell asked Major Logan.
“Yes, of course.” He opened the green tube and pulled out rolled papers. One was a large map, it nearly covered Koby’s entire table.
“Before we get started, can we clear the air please?” said Pastor Pendell.
Major Logan and Collin looked directly at each other for the first time since the fight. Anger brewed in Major Logan’s face, mixed with a little fear and perhaps some respect.
Collin spoke first. “I apologize for fighting you in front of the soldiers, Major Logan. It was unprofessional. Let’s not let our differences divide the town.”
He meant the last bit more than the rest. Right now, the town had to be united.
“I agree and I apologize for my behavior as well.”
They each put out their hands and shook on it.
Koby came over with the drinks on a tray. “Good we’re all copacetic. Now, can we get to the point of this little meeting.”
Everyone sat at the table; Koby handed out drinks and then joined them at the table. He held the largest coffee mug that Collin had ever seen.
“Are you sure that’s big enough,” Collin said, grinning.
“Pretty sweet, right?” Koby grinned. “I made this bad boy at the high school. They have a pottery kiln.”
“Let’s focus, please,” Pastor Pendell said. “Major Logan, please walk us through your proposal.”
Major Logan pointed at the map.
“As you can see, this is the town, here is the dam, the river, and this area is now our farmland,” Major Logan said. He gestured to each location as he spoke. “Our weak points are here, the perimeter of the farmland, and here, the river. Of course, the bridge and the dam can be considered weak points too because they’re vital infrastructure.”
“What I would like to do is build a wall along the bank of the river with sharpened logs, as a way to shore up that weak point and free up some of the Eagles for patrol in other areas.” Major Logan looked at each of them.
“Medieval style defense,” Koby said. “I like it.”
Collin nodded. “It makes sense to me; we use the river as a moat.”
“We need to fortify the entire town,” Major Logan said. “Given the change HAGS has implemented, the Vipers will be more desperate than ever to get their hands on a med drop. With the weather warming up, the water will be safer to cross. We now know they have access to explosives and the knowledge to use them. Combined with their overwhelming number of fighters, I fear they may launch an all-out assault on Goshen. If nothing else, I believe they will attempt to blow up the church.”
“Those heathens wouldn’t dare,” Pastor Pendell said. He scoffed at the thought.
“Wouldn’t they? It’s a symbol for our residents,” Collin said. “It would be a huge psychological win for them.”
“The Vipers will not destroy Goshen,” Pastor Pendell said vehemently. “God won’t allow it.”
“That may be, pastor,” Collin said, glancing at Koby and Major Logan. “But I agree we should prepare fortifications for the town. What kind of time frame are we looking at on the wall?”
Koby leaned back in his chair and said, “You know, the logging mill has dozens, maybe hundreds, of logs already cut and ready to go. Actually, I’m surprised we didn’t do this a long time ago. As far as a time frame, between the logging team, carpenters, and maybe others to help, we can probably get the wall up in four or five days, assuming the weather cooperates, and there are no major setbacks.”
“That’s a good time line,” Collin said. “We should plan some improvements around the farmland and maybe traps in the wood line. They used the forest to great effect during last time. We should take away that advantage.”
“We can worry about that stuff later, after we fortify the town which is more critical,” Major Logan said.
“Fair enough,” Collin said. “What about the bridge? Any plan to improve the security of the bridge?”
“Good point,” Koby said. He took a noisy slurp from his giant mug.
Major Logan glared at Koby. “With the wall up, it will free up Eagles from having to patrol it. We can have more soldiers stationed on and around the bridge.”
“If the Vipers ever take the bridge, we can just blow it,” Koby said.
Pastor Pendell scoffed.
Collin was surprised he’d suggest such a thing. “Then we’d be trapped.”
“The bridge isn’t as vital for us as we may think,” said Kobyashi. “It’d be slower to cross the river, sure. But we wouldn’t be trapped per se. We have more than enough boats for the hunters and trappers and we could ferry across the farmers.”
“How would you do it?” Major Logan said.
“With the boats, I just said that.” Koby rolled his eyes.
“Destroy the bridge, dumbass,” Major Logan said. “How do propose to blow it up?”
“Let’s go upstairs to my office.” Koby stood up and motioned for them to follow.
“I’ll wait here,” Pastor Pendell said.
Collin and Major Logan followed Koby through his living room.
“Good God, man,” Major Logan said, eying a sea of junk strewn about the room.
“Watch your step. Don’t mess up anything,” Koby said over his shoulder.
Collin looked around and instantly understood why Koby told them to go into the kitchen. It was probably the only clean room in his house. The living room? It was like a mad man’s workshop.
The living room was filled with a variety of electronics, cords, old television sets, vacuums, tools, pipes, wires, and something that resembled a work bench, overflowing with small electronics and toys. Some of the items were opened and appeared to be missing pieces. A small trail to the staircase was the only clear space in the entire room. How Koby could possibly notice if they moved something confounded Collin.
Upstairs they turned right and went into the first room. It was an extension of the living room, but there was a rack of firearms, and a shelf that held military-looking crates. In the center of the room was a table, conspicuously free of clutter. Koby went over to the shelf and pulled off a crate. He grunted with the weight, then turned and placed it on the table.
Major Logan excused himself to use the bathroom.
The box was stenciled with “Property of U.S. Army” and “Live Explosives.” Collin was curious what kind of explosives it held.
Koby pulled a crow bar off another shelf. He undid the latches and pried open the lid.
The front door, and then the screen door, slammed shut. Collin looked out the window and saw Major Logan walking away from the house.
“He just left,” Collin said.
“Maybe he likes to shit at home?”
“I don’t know, but he’s full of shit.” Collin smiled.
“Anyway, take a look at these bad boys.” Koby pointed into the box.
Collin looked and saw four cloth bandoleers and somehow knew right away what they were. “Claymores?”
“That’s right,” Koby said, pulling one of the bandoleers out. He took the claymore out and set it on the table.
It lay on the table with “Front Toward Enemy” pointing at the ceiling.
“There are only four. Where are the rest?” Collin asked.
“I have no idea.” Koby shrugged. “I’ve never opened this before. I was waiting until we needed them. Kind of like a bottle of fine wine. You know?”
Collin grunted his agreement. He believed Koby. His mind was racing, and he started to form a theory about why Major Logan had left like he did. Collin thought back to the report about the Eagle’s Bar explosion and how there’d been holes blown in some of the wood in the ceiling and walls. Collin realized that multiple claymores could have been used in the medical crate. Possibly, the four that just happen to be missing from Koby’s Army crate.
Or maybe the Vipers still held a couple of claymores because four in one container would be overkill, he thought.
> “These are great,” Collin said. He didn’t want to mention his theory to Kobyashi just yet.
“They’re perfect. Anyway, we should put them away. I just wanted to show you guys - or you I guess, since Major Dipshit ran off - how we can blow up the bridge,” Koby said. “In any case, there’s no need to rig the bridge up until they get the wall built. We don’t want to accidentally blow our load early.”
“Good stuff, Koby. You’re full of surprises.” Collin helped him secure the lid on the crate.
“Let’s go check on the pastor.”
Collin followed Koby out of the room. Then something on one of the shelves caught his eye.
“Whoa, man.” Collin picked up one of the walkie-talkies. He turned it on and was surprised to find that it had power. “These things work?”
Koby turned to look. “Oh yeah, that one does. I didn’t know the battery still had juice though. The other one got wet and the circuit board rusted.”
“These would be a big help, especially during battles. You should really try to get these working,” Collin said.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Koby said in a faux military voice.
Collin smiled, turned the radio off, and put it back on the shelf.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Collin tapped Koby on the shoulder.
“You have fun with the pastor. I’m going to head home.” Collin started toward the door.
“You’re gonna leave me with him. C’mon, man.”
“See ya later, Koby.”
Koby made a face for a second then gave a quick wave.
Collin walked out and strolled down the gravel road thinking everything over.
The sun was beginning to set and it cast a beautiful glow over the entire valley. Collin stopped on his sidewalk and turned to enjoy the view, the way he had that morning.
“Hell of a day,” he muttered.
Collin turned to go inside. He glanced down at the cracked sidewalk and the flower growing out of it. He started to look away and noticed his friend, the bee, dead on the sidewalk in front of him.
Crouching down to look at the bee, Collin got a sick feeling in his gut. The return of bees suggested that the pollen was safe. New bees and new pollen could mean no fever and no infection. That would take HAGS out of the equation.
What if HAGS wasn’t actually fertilizing the crops? What if they were really spraying insecticide to kill the bees? Collin frowned. But why would they do that? It couldn’t be a profit motive, because there was no evidence of payment for BT76.
Nothing is as it seems, Anna said, Collin thought.
Looking around, he spotted a leaf in the dirt near the bushes. Ever so carefully, not wanting to crush it, or remove any residue from the spray, Collin scooped up the bee with the leaf. He thought he could pass the bee off to Koby or the doctor to test.
He lifted the bee up close to his face but couldn’t spot anything unusual. Collin looked out at the fields.
Then he turned and walked into his house.
Chapter Eighteen
So many things were on Collin’s mind that he was finding it impossible to sleep. He rolled onto his side and stared out his window. A long time ago, before the fever, Collin tended to keep curtains closed. He never liked the idea of people looking inside his house.
Now, with so few people left, and his home’s position on a small rise, his window was above where other houses could see inside. So he looked through the window at the beautiful night sky. Free of light pollution, the heavens glistened with a view of the stars that he never knew was possible.
The Big Sky State, indeed, Collin thought. He sighed. It was a remarkable sight, but his mind kept wandering back to all the drama swirling around Goshen.
Collin smiled and wondered if he led a quieter life before the fever. Although with his vast knowledge of combat techniques, he thought perhaps he never knew what a normal life actually was. Now he was helping to keep a town safe from itself and its enemies, not exactly what he envisioned for himself.
He wondered if the town would be able to construct the wall along the river without any setbacks. Koby seemed quite confident even though nothing was going smooth lately. Would Julie be able to modify his blood cells so they could deliver life-saving antibodies to victims of the fever? What if the Vipers attacked again? Who am I? All of these mysteries swirled in his mind.
Then, he thought about HAGS cutting the supply of BT76 by forty percent. It seemed so random. Collin still had no idea why the company would bother making any BT76 in the first place, or why they would transport it around to small towns like Goshen. It was strange that the company behind the downfall of society was also behind sustaining the last remaining survivors.
Could HAGS have been behind the death of the bee, or was he just being paranoid? Certainly they had no proof the airplane had fertilized the field other than what the flyer said. People saw the airplane spray mist over the fields and until they tested it, there was no telling what the content of the spray was.
Collin rolled onto his back, and thought about the claymores and what four missing explosives could mean. Why had Major Logan really left Kobyashi’s house? For a brief second Collin thought, he might have to worry about Major Logan seeking revenge for the beating, but he dismissed that. He didn’t seem like the vengeful type. If Major Logan was going to get payback, he’d be more likely to do it in front of a crowd of Eagles.
So many questions, he thought. So much uncertainty.
Eventually Collin did drift off to sleep. Exhaustion enveloped him and dragged him down into a deep slumber.
For the first time in almost a week, Collin had dreams. Clear, vivid dreams.
He was back in the same large green lawn as before. This time he saw trees along one edge and a tall black decorative, yet secure, iron fence surrounding the property. It was a beautiful day.
The woman and the boy were there again. Collin was playing catch with the boy, but it wasn’t Frisbee. This time he had on a leather outfielder’s glove. The pop of the ball smacking into the palm of the mitt was unmistakable. The scent of the worn leather and lush, green grass filled his nose. This was baseball. This was America.
The woman wore a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of sunglasses. She was still laughing and even though her face was blurred, she looked beautiful. He still didn’t recognize her by voice, rather his instincts told him who she was. His wife. She sat on the grass to the side of him and the boy. Across from Collin, waving his own baseball mitt was a young boy around eight years old.
Unlike his mother, the boy’s face was as clear as a picture. He smiled wide and laughed. He had a smattering of freckles across his face and the same shaggy, sun-bleached hair Collin remembered. He felt certain, deep down to his core, that the boy was his son. Collin could easily have been looking at a younger version of himself.
Collin concentrated hard, scrunching his face in concentration as he tried to recall his son’s name. Frustrated by the effort of it, Collin instead focused on enjoying the dream. He wanted to soak up as much of the memory as he could.
Collin smiled at his wife and son. He walked over to embrace the boy.
His son ran toward him, arms outstretched. He dropped the baseball mitt.
When it struck the grass, the ground rumbled. A slow ripple welled up like water on a pond and raced away from the impact. Each ripple shook the ground a little harder than the last.
Earthquake, Collin thought. He looked down as his son embraced him and saw fear — no, terror — in his eyes.
Collin looked around for his wife. She was still; trapped in place with her hand reaching for them, as the last wisps of flame went out, leaving behind the charred remains of the woman he loved. Her charred body cracked and crumbled. When the next ripple struck her body, she exploded into a cloud of dust. Collin and his son were coated in the dust. He choked and gagged on it. The burning smell filled his nose.
Flames were everywhere. Collin’s heart raced as he squinted his eyes against the he
at and curled against his son, trying his best to shield him from the heat. Collin looked for an exit. Any kind of escape.
Between the flickers of raging fire, he saw there was nothing.
Where lush green grass had covered the ground just moments ago, there was now charred earth. Where there had been trees there were now smoldering stumps. Waves of scorched earth radiated from where the mitt had dropped. The mitt itself had burned up and blown away long ago, like his wife. The waves crumbled and crashed, tossing up pieces of smoking dirt. Collin looked to the dark sky and saw a lone American flag, on fire, drifting towards the ground.
They were surrounded. Trapped.
Hell, Collin thought.
Horrendous, painful waves of heat beat on them. His son’s knees gave out and his bodyweight pulled down on Collin.
“Hold on,” he yelled. He couldn’t lose his son again. He didn’t even know his name.
When Collin looked down, his son’s body burst into a ball of flame.
A scream tore through his chest, but was drowned by the roar of the wildfire. His son’s body cracked, crumbled, and blew away.
Collin slumped to the ground.
The pain he felt wasn’t physical. It was far worse. His very soul was being wrung between the cruel, thorny hands of fate.
He closed his eyes and let himself be consumed by the fire. Collin willed it to turn him to ash so he could be reunited with his family.
But he didn’t burn up.
When Collin opened his eyes, he looked down to see that he was holding a large piece of foam covered in a cheap looking cloth. It was worn and tattered. Enough of the general shape remained that he thought it looked like a seat cushion of some sort. Everything was still shaking, just not as violently as before.
A surge of hope coursed through Collin. Maybe his son was still alive? He just had to call out to him. No, he couldn’t, he realized. He still didn’t know his own son’s name. Panic twisted Collin’s gut and he sat up, breathing hard, hoping to see the boy. His boy.
He heard something. It was faint but growing louder.
Collin looked around, searching. Everything was dark. His eyes were closed.
When he opened them he saw Pastor Pendell and Kobyashi staring down at him.
Praying for War: The Collin War Chronicles Page 16
