Eli silently took it all in. There were stacks of military MREs, generic antibiotics in travel-safe containers, water purification filters, several trauma capable medic kits, spare batteries, hand crank radios, binoculars, high-end daypacks, and extra headlamps and flashlights.
And guns.
Parker had every range covered, too. For long-distance shooting, he had an FN SCAR Mk-17 outfitted with a scope. Beside that was an M4 with a ten-inch barrel, and a Mossberg pump action 12 gauge next to the seating brackets for his pistols. In the brackets hung a Glock .40 cal., a Ruger .357 revolver, and a compact Bersa Thunder .380.
“Not a Sig Sauer among the bunch,” Eli noted.
“We’ve been stocking food by the orchard, as well,” Parker told him.
“Let’s go back outside,” Eli said, his voice quiet.
“Sure.”
Parker replaced the false paneling and the two old friends made their way back outside, where they resumed their seats on the porch. Eli opened a beer and handed it to Parker before opening another one for himself and drinking from it. They were silent for a moment.
“What’s going on with you, Jim?” Eli’s voice was still quiet, more serious than it had been since they’d gotten together that night.
“I know it’s dangerous, but I’ve got to go get Sara—” Parker began.
Eli made a slashing gesture with the flat of his hand. “That’s exactly what I mean, Parker. You’re not a stupid man, but you’ve been behaving downright stupidly for far too long now.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Parker demanded.
“You think I hadn’t noticed that you’ve been popping pills since long before the Event?”
“Those were prescribed and then there were all my injuries.” Parker could feel himself growing hot as he fought to keep calm.
Eli held up his hand. “I get that, man, I do. What about all that time in between? Living is hard. Under these circumstances, it’s downright dangerous. Who wouldn’t want to escape into a dopamine stasis, if only for a little while, but did you ever stop to think that maybe the reason why those FEMA medical folks are so quick to give you drugs is so you lose sight of exactly how long you’ve been picking apples?”
Parker found himself opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, unable to speak. There was no way that he was intentionally being encouraged to stay on the drugs, was there? He found himself staring at the remains of his pinky. His pain was real. Or, at least, it had been.
“I’m your oldest friend,” Eli said. “Instead of keeping me in the loop with what was going on with you, you formed a Sisterhood of the Apple-Picking Pants with two sorority cheerleaders.”
“That’s not fair,” Parker said. “You weren’t there. I know they have no training, but they got shit done and did it under tough conditions. They deserve respect.”
Eli shrugged. “Maybe so. A woman runs into a burning house to save her baby, and she’s a hero, right? But does that make her a firefighter?”
“Come o—” Parker started.
“No, Jim,” Eli cut him off. “You think a woman calling 911 wants you to send her to the fire, or do they maybe want the real thing?”
Parker had already struggled with this question earlier, and he didn’t answer. He shook his head. “I know, I—”
“Hold on, friend, I’m only getting started. This here is a motherfucking reality intervention. You sit down and listen, really listen, to what I have to say. Don’t listen so you can think up counter-arguments; fucking hear what I’m saying.”
Parker drank his beer.
Eli half turned in his chair so he was facing him. “I saw stacks of MREs in there. Why?”
“You know why. You had them too.”
“Had, being the operative word. Why do you still have yours?”
“In case we need to move out.”
“Exactly,” Eli said. “So, you were prepared. Making preparations and being prepared are reasonable courses of action. Except the penalty for hoarding is death by hanging and I’ve seen folks swing for a helluva lot less than what you have in that bedroom. The whole point of prepping is that you have your shit ready to go the instant something happens. You keep a go-bag with you at all times so that, whenever and wherever you get caught, you have what you need to get to your cache.” Eli jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the house. “If you hadn’t had that cache up and ready for a long, long time, you’d have zero business identifying and calling yourself a prepper in the first place. You had everything you needed to go after Sara ready and waiting when the Event went down. That doesn’t even include your cabin.”
Parker’s beer no longer had any taste, but he took a sip anyway.
“And another thing,” Eli continued. “The whole community is talking about what went down at the checkpoint this morning, and I’m not talking about the fucking hangings. Ava put on quite a show. Given what I saw in your house and what you told me, that show was nothing more than a distraction because you three almost got caught today.”
“I told you we’re storing food—”
“Why?” Eli cut him off.
Parker blinked. “We’ll need to eat—-”
“Bullshit. You have a fucking death sentence hidden in your wall back there. Said subject of death sentence being all the gear you need to go and find your daughter. Yet instead of going to get her, you’ve exposed yourself and those two girls to daily chances of an execution by smuggling it out in that manner. They trust you, Parker, and you’ve deliberately been putting them in danger over and over for six long fucking weeks. You don’t have a plan, man, you have a suicide pact.”
Parker felt his cheeks stinging with awareness as his hand went unconsciously to his pocket to finger a little white pill nestled inside. He realized what he was doing and pulled his hand free, his cheeks heating at the look of awareness on Eli’s face.
Fuck it, what had he done?
He tried to form a response, but couldn’t find the words. He took another long pull of his beer, bad taste or not.
“Parker.” Eli’s voice was gentle. “You’d been prepping for disaster for years, so you already had everything you needed. You finally get a tangible lead on Sara after all these years, and you know that, as part of the Church you’ve told me about, she has enemies in this Council you say is pulling the strings behind the scenes.
“Do you go after her? No. Instead, you wait six fucking weeks. Meanwhile, the Council cleans up the chaos that could have cloaked your movements, consolidates their control of transportation routes, harvests all the supplies that were laying around out there, including my own damn stash, and gives your enemies a month and a half head start on rounding up your daughter if they’re looking to mop up this Dr. Marr’s operation.”
“I don’t think they are,” Parker said. “They would have killed us all outside the television station if that were the case.”
“Fair point. However, before, you had to get to Sara and maybe break into some place. Now, you have to break out of a place, avoid patrols, which, by the way, are filled with some trigger-happy bastards, and then break into and back out of some other place. You’ve made your job that much goddamn harder for zero gain, and you’ve almost gotten two girls killed, and one of them raped.”
Eli leaned over and tapped his finger into Parker’s chest, looking him square in the eye. “You need to stop acting like a sheep and start acting like the wolf you should be, or the sheepdogs are going to rip you apart. If it was my little girl out there? Nothing could stop me.”
Parker’s temper finally flared. “Goddamn it, Eli!” He held up his injured hand, almost shoving it in his friend’s face. “In case you’ve forgotten, I was shot up to shit. I needed time to heal.”
Eli didn’t rise to the bait. He shook his head, his voice even when he spoke again. “Horse shit. You peddle that to someone who doesn’t know better. Two weeks, Parker. Two weeks and the FEMA doctor cleared you for work. Once the fracture in your rib starte
d knitting, everything else was gravy. You’ve been ready to travel for a while and you haven’t. Period.”
Parker sat silently. At times during Eli’s rant, anger and denial had flashed to the surface. He had thought this through; he had reasons for his plan… ones that seemed smart and good. Stripped of ego, with the facts laid out before him, it felt like failure. He sighed, a slow, heavy sound.
“You’re right,” he told Eli. “There is no good reason for my actions. I was stalling. So, okay then, smart man, what do I do now?”
3
Both men turned their heads at the hard slap of shoe leather on the ground as they watched Owen Mackle running up toward them. The boy was twelve, and big for his age, but slimming down under a regime of daily labor and rationed food.
Breathing hard, he cut across the lawn and came right up to the steps of Parker’s place. Eli leaned forward, concern etched into his face.
“Easy, Owen,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
The boy stood straight as if to report, breathing rapidly, and Parker saw that his Avengers T-shirt was damp with sweat. A sense of impending doom seeped into Parker with the sight of it, turning his stomach cold. He lifted his beer and took two quick swallows. Lowering the bottle, he pretended not to notice Eli watching him out of the corner of his eye as they waited for the boy to catch his breath.
“It’s troops,” Owen got out. “They’re doing a sweep of this neighborhood, going house to house. They got to our house first and Mom sent me to warn people.”
“Good job,” Eli told him. He and Parker rose to their feet. “You take care of yourself.”
The kid nodded and took off at a sprint.
Eli turned to Parker. “You dicked around too long and now they’re here. They do a thorough toss of your place, you know they’re going to find your shit.”
Parker nodded. “I know.” His hesitation and indecision had put people in danger. Again. “I’ve got to wake the girls up and we have to go, now.” He put his hand on Eli’s arm. “Come with us,” he urged the other man. He didn’t want to point out that there wasn’t anyone holding him back.
“Sorry, brother, I’ve had my fill of being on the move,” Eli replied. “I intend to ride out my time on the front porch drinking swill until the lights come back on.”
Parker didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t fault the man for not wanting anything to do with his plan but damn, if he could use his help. They could use his help. “If you change your mind, I’ve got a pack ready for your use.” Parker almost reached out to touch his friend but based on the look on his face, he dropped his hand.
“Thanks,” Eli nodded. “But I’m presently liking my retirement idea better. Besides, someone has to keep an eye on these yahoos around here.”
They re-entered the house then, Parker illuminating the way with his Maglite.
“Ava, Finn!” he yelled. “Get up—get up now!”
Ava appeared in the doorway, butcher knife in hand and flashlight on. Sleepy-eyed, Finn appeared behind her. Eli eyed Ava. She was dressed in her sports bra and panties, but her feet were already shoved into her hiking boots. The knife looked like a short sword in her grip.
“Maybe you should let her lead,” he said.
Parker ignored him. “Grab your bug-out bags,” he said. “Soldiers are coming house to house. They get in here, we’re done.”
“Good thing we hung around for a month and a half to give them the chance to chase us out at the last minute,” Ava told him, sarcasm dripping off each word.
“Your feelings are duly noted. Now, go shake your asses; we have to leave,” Parker answered, keeping the anger out of his voice.
Ava nodded in acknowledgement. “Let’s go, Finn.” The two girls hurried back into their rooms to dress.
Parker turned to Eli. “Will you grab my pack and the pistols? There’s a second Maglite on the nightstand. I have some medication and, uh, maps, in another room; I’ll be right back.”
Eli looked at him, his face unreadable, then nodded. “Hurry, Jim.”
The two men went through opposite doorways and Parker entered the bathroom. He dropped to his knees beside the cabinet under the sink and opened the doors. Pushing his way past several rolls of toilet paper and cleaning supplies, he popped out a section of drywall he’d scored with a utility knife.
He reached in and pulled out a quart-sized Ziploc bag filled with various pills. Pills for anxiety, pills for pain, sleeping pills, and even ADD medication. A flashlight reflected off the mirror, nearly blinding him, and he quickly tucked the bag under his shirt and held it in place at his side with his arm.
“Are you ready?” Finn asked.
“Yeah, let’s go.” Parker told her.
When she turned to go, he quickly stuffed his bag down the front of his pants and let his shirt hang over it. Following Finn, they met the others in the living room. Eli handed him the pack and the Ruger .357 semiautomatic.
“I put spare magazines and some loose ammo in your pack,” he said. “I know you carried the Glock as a cop, but I think the Eagle’s too large for the girls’ hands if they’re forced to shoot quickly.”
“Good call.” Parker nodded, jacking a round in the chamber and engaging the safety before putting it in the back of his pants.
Eli turned toward the girls, holding the Glock and Bersa out, butts first. “Here, Wonder Woman,” he told Ava. “This is a step up from your turkey carver.”
Ava grinned. “Good call,” she told him. She copied Parker’s actions and added, “You’re not so dumb for an old man.”
“Eat ass,” he said, but he was grinning.
Parker looked between them. How could they be calm enough to razz each other?
“I hope we don’t have to use these,” Finn said, taking the .380 and prepping it before sliding it into the back of her waistband.
“I put the holsters and carry rigs in Parker’s pack,” Eli told them. “You can figure out how you want to carry for travel once you’re clear of the area.”
“Let’s go to the bikes,” Parker said.
Eli grabbed his arm as he turned to go. “What the fuck you mean, ‘bikes’?”
“Bicycles,” Finn said. “It was my idea. They’re silent, they have few moving parts to break, and they’re plentiful. And unlike cars or ATVs, they’re still legal. We can tow small carriers behind them with food and supplies. It’ll take us time to reach the Vineyard, but Parker said we have time. If we travel forty to fifty miles a day, we’ll make it there in two weeks, and we can camp on the road at night.”
Eli looked at Parker. “You approved this?”
Parker nodded. “It seemed logical. The roads are clogged with cars stopped dead by the Event, some crashed. First looters, then Council forces have been systematically syphoning off the gas. Bikes make sense.”
“Yeah,” Eli said. “Bikes make sense if you’re a group of 1950s kids going to see a dead body because growing up is hard. Newsflash, this isn’t a fucking Stand by Me road trip, Jim. The moment you leave here, you’re outlaws, and the Small Kill Teams and tracker units are going to be on the hunt for your asses. You already know they have helicopters; the very first contact you had with them, they landed right in front of you. You should be fucking beating the bush on foot and off the roads as much as possible. You’re not on a hiking trip, man; you’re a small unit trapped behind enemy lines. What the fuck is wrong with you, Jim?”
Parker could see Eli’s point, but he also knew they’d make better time on bikes than on foot, and getting as far away from New Albany as quickly as possible was at the top of the list of must-dos. “We’ll make better time on the bikes, Eli,” Parker said, reshouldering his pack.
Eli looked at him. “Fair enough, Jim. It’s only advice; you don’t have to take it, but if it were me, I’d stay off the roads until I was well away from here.”
Parker nodded not bothering to answer. His head was already two steps ahead and he wasn’t liking what he was seeing. He began moving to the
front door.
“Uh, he made a lot of sense—” Ava started to say.
“Let’s go,” Parker snapped as he threw open the door, waiting for the girls to shoulder their packs and follow him.
“Dammit! Not alone, you don’t.” Eli grabbed a flashlight and began to follow them. “I’ll go with you as far as the checkpoint and make sure you get through.”
“What? No, you need to stay here.” Parker stepped in front of Eli blocking the other man. “You have a life here. If you go with us, you might not be able to get back.”
“I don’t have a life!” Eli practically growled. “Not without….” He took a breath and Parker could see the grief flash across his friend’s face before he masked it. He knew it’d been hard for Eli without his wife and he’d been adamant about not wanting to talk about what happened when he went to get her at her sister’s. “What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t make sure you got out safe. Don’t worry. I’ve no intentions of doing anything stupid, but I’ll be damned if I let you three go out there alone looking like you’re going on a picnic.”
They made it a block before they ran into trouble.
Piercing whistles split the air, and Parker saw flashlights moving ahead of them and to either side on parallel streets. It was a big sweep. About a half block up ahead, two six-man squads worked each side of the street. As Parker watched, two soldiers stayed outside providing security while four went inside to search homes. The group was slowing down even as the soldiers noticed them.
“Don’t mind us,” Ava subvocalized. “We’re just folks with packs and bikes walking down the middle of the street during a sweep. These are not the droids you’re looking for.”
“Return to your homes to await inspection,” one of the soldiers broadcasted through a bullhorn.
Parker removed his work visa, which allowed travel through checkpoints, and held it up, approaching the soldiers. “I have paperwork,” he called out.
He had the full attention of the security detail now.
Shit! Shit! Shit! Why did I open my mouth like that? It’s not like they’ll simply wave us through with our packs loaded down.
911: The Complete Series Page 28
