Braving The Storms (Strengthen What Remains Book 3)

by Kyle Pratt

The First Sergeant grabbed his radio. “Fifth Squad this is Fletcher. Report.”

  The radio squawked. “We’ve got two guys firing on us from the east side of the electronics store.”

  A young soldier laughed. “We can take on five looters.”

  “No.” Fletcher shook his head. “We can wait. We have food and water. They have televisions and radios.”

  As the medic finished bandaging Fletcher, smoke blew over the position.

  The radio crackled. “First Sergeant, this is Private Spencer at Main and Second. We need to move. The fire is sweeping this way.”

  * * *

  East of Hansen, Thursday, September 24th

  Barely aware of others helping Caden to his feet, Zach stared at the man who tried to wrestle his rifle away. Young, perhaps just out of college, he wore jeans, and a button-down shirt. His neatly cut brown hair matched his polished brown shoes. Why had he attacked them? Why had he tried to wrestle Zach’s rifle from him? Was he sick?

  It didn’t matter. Zach had killed him.

  He didn’t know how long he sat there, but when he stood, he walked aimlessly for an undetermined time. Nelson walked with others in the distance. Zach walked alone. Seeing Sergeant Roy, he nodded and continued moving. Gradually Zach became aware that he strode along the highway toward town. The rifle weighed on his arms, so he flung it over a shoulder and continued his slow plod.

  Vehicles passed.

  The image of the man with neat brown hair dying before him remained fixed in his mind. Again and again he watched the life drain from the man’s eyes.

  Zach walked onward.

  Just a few months ago he had wanted to kill Bo for getting his mother hooked on drugs. In the end Cruz killed Bo, but Zach had wanted to do it. Later, he did kill one of the thugs holding DeLynn. Why did this shooting trouble him?

  He kicked a stone.

  Would he have killed Bo? He hated the man, but would never know if he would have … could have, killed him. Later, when he shot the thug, it was to save himself and DeLynn. This day two men struggled. One lived. One died. He looked to the sky. What cosmic or spiritual forces chose him to live … chose him to kill? It had been a senseless attack, a senseless death. The clouds echoed the darkness and cold that lingered within him.

  A Humvee stopped beside him. Nelson opened the driver’s door and called over the top. “Hey, Zach, I’ve been looking for you. Jump in.”

  “No.” Zach shook his head. “I … I need to think.” He opened the passenger door and set the rifle inside. His school books were on the floor of the vehicle, but they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. “I’ll see you later.”

  “You okay?” Nelson asked.

  “I’ll live.”

  Nelson nodded and then drove on toward town.

  Clouds billowed over the nearby hills. He didn’t know how long he had walked when he felt the first drop of rain. Only as he approached his trailer home did he realize his clothes were soaked through. Recalling a verse from the Bible, he looked into the cloudy sky. He sends the rain on the just and the unjust. As the memory of the man he had killed fluttered back into his mind, Zach knew the guilt rested on him.

  As he opened the door of the trailer the smell of wet carpet and mold assaulted his nose. Droplets formed on the ceiling, fell, and added to the disaster of his home. Tears welled in his eyes. The day began with a riot, then a battle, and ended with … the man. The man he killed. The dying eyes flashed in his mind. Now a wet and smelly home. He shivered. Why, God, why?

  Although drops fell from several places on the ceiling, his mother’s old recliner had been moved and now occupied a dry patch in the far corner of the living room. An old blanket lay across it. He undressed, dropping his wet clothes on the wet carpet. Naked, he collapsed into the chair, pulled the blanket over him and drifted to sleep.

  When Zach’s eyes fluttered open, no light came through the nearby window. A log crackled in the woodstove and cast a yellow glow across the room, but he didn’t recall starting the fire.

  Giggles brought him fully awake.

  Vicki worked at the kitchen sink, but DeLynn stood at the kitchen counter with filleted fish spread before her. However, she wasn’t working. Her head rested on one elbow as she leaned across the counter and stared at Zach with a huge smile.

  He looked down. The blanket had slid off and now barely covered his groin and one leg. He yanked it up to his chest. “How long have you guys been here?”

  DeLynn’s grin grew even larger. “Oh, us gals, we’ve been here for a while.”

  Zach’s face burned with embarrassment.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brennon Trailer Home, Thursday, September 24th

  Zach stood, turned away, and tied the blanket around him like a Roman toga. “I should get dressed.”

  Still grinning, DeLynn nodded.

  Each step went squish as Zach grabbed the wet clothes from the floor and made a hasty retreat to his bedroom.

  The room remained relatively dry, but they couldn’t go on living like this. He had to find a solution. Earlier he had considered getting permission for both of them to move into the armory. Nelson thought it a bad idea for Vicki to live around a hundred young men, but what choice did he have?

  While Zach dressed in a dry shirt that he hoped didn’t smell of mold, a struggle raged in his mind. The armory seemed the only solution, but from the battle earlier in the day, images of the man he had killed pushed into his thoughts.

  The soldiers treated him like a member of the Guard, but he had never enlisted, and now he didn’t want to join. His desire to learn about guns and to fight in battles seemed childish.

  The armory might be bad for him and Vicki, but it remained better than a winter in a cold and damp trailer.

  He pulled on underwear and jeans with a sigh, unable to find a better solution. As he tied his shoes, the memory of walking to see Mr. Hollister at the hotel flashed through his mind. DeLynn’s father had wanted Zach and his sister to run the general store on the first floor. The building needed a lot of work, but if they fixed it up and ran it, perhaps they could live in the back.

  Zach walked to the living room. “I’m going to talk to your dad about business stuff. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He reached for his coat.

  “My dad’s not at the house. He sold it.”

  Zach’s arm stopped in mid reach. “What? When did that happen?”

  “A few days ago. He said we couldn’t pay the mortgage anymore.”

  Zach sighed. “Everyone is getting poorer.”

  “Apparently everyone except the guy who bought our house.”

  “Does your dad still own the hotel?”

  “Yeah. We’re living there now.”

  Zach looked out a nearby window and spotted the Hollister car. “Good, I need to talk with him about hotel business. Can you take me to him?”

  “Sure. Grab your coat.”

  “You guys go ahead,” Vicki said “I’ll stay here.”

  * * *

  Morton, Thursday, September 24th

  Fletcher sat behind the car and wondered how many people remained in Morton. Wind blew smoke and flames across the downtown area, and he heard several vehicles race away. “We need to pull back. Stay together and rendezvous just north of the highway near the hotel.” He repeated the message to Fifth Squad over the radio.

  Fletcher shifted his weight to get a better view of the situation. A stab of pain from the wound in his side caused him to stop. Holding the bloody bandage he inched cautiously up, hoping to shout to the looters across the street.

  Bang! A bullet whizzed past his head and imbedded in the wall behind him.

  He cursed and fell back behind the car. Sitting there, Fletcher tried to shout for the looters to surrender before the fire killed them.

  More shots rang out.

  “I think they’re hoping we’ll leave so they can escape.” The soldier peeked around the car.

  “We are going to leave.” Fletcher gestured for
them to move back, around the corner.

  “Are we letting the looters go free?” another asked.

  Fletcher shook his head. “Either the fire gets them or we will, but I don’t want to be cooked while they’re deciding what to do.”

  The squad jogged north one block, closer to the fire, but away from the gunmen. They joined with Spencer and the other private left to guard the intersection and then move away from the growing flames.

  Fletcher’s side ached. Gently he pressed a hand to his wound, and wondered if he would be able to keep up. He moved cautiously east with the soldiers, at a slower than normal pace and told himself that it was to avoid ambush by looters, but he knew better.

  The soldiers crept east along deserted streets. Finally they turned south, away from the fire, and toward the other squad.

  Shots boomed as they neared the rendezvous point.

  The radio crackled. “Fletcher, this is Fifth Squad. We’ve engaged five shooters.”

  “Roger. We are headed south along the main street.”

  “That should bring you behind them.”

  Fletcher and the men of Second Squad jogged along the side of a large hotel. Flames leaped to the sky from buildings a quarter mile to the north. Smoke choked the air.

  Reaching the parking lot, Fletcher spotted several men behind two pickups shooting at Fifth Squad. The trucks were loaded with food, electronics, clothes, and an assortment of other items. Fletcher turned to his men. “Spread out and move forward. When I signal, stop and find cover, but hold your fire. I’ll give them one chance to surrender.”

  When they were twenty yards from the shooters, Fletcher signaled the soldiers to stop. He waited for them to find cover. “You’re surrounded. Cease fire and lay down your weapons.”

  The looters turned and fired.

  The soldiers shot back.

  In seconds the fight was over. Fletcher stood over the body of a middle-aged man with a bullet hole in his chest. “Why didn’t you just surrender?”

  * * *

  Hollister Hotel, Thursday, September 24th

  As they turned the corner toward the hotel, Zach noticed lights shining from several windows and the portico. DeLynn parked in front and frowned. “Where is the valet? It’s so hard to get good help these days.”

  Zach was confused. “You hired a…?”

  DeLynn laughed. “No, of course not. Let’s go find Dad.”

  Inside they followed the buzz of the circular saw and found Mr. Hollister in what would someday be a bakery. Covered with sawdust, he stood with his back to them, cutting two-by-fours.

  “A year ago my dad wore a business suit to work. Now he wears a T-shirt and jeans.” She sighed. “You guys talk business. I’ll be with Mom.”

  Zach walked into the room. The walls were roughed-in. A used glass and steel-display counter nearly divided the space. A cash register sat on the floor wrapped in clear plastic. Hollister appeared to be cutting boards for the counter. He waited for him to stop and set the saw down.

  “Ah, Mr. Hollister?”

  He spun around. “Oh, hi, Zach. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Could I talk with you? I have a problem.” Zach explained that the trailer needed a new roof. “The carpet is soaked from the recent rains. In half the house water drips from the ceiling.”

  “That’s an electrical hazard.”

  A weight settled on Zach. “I didn’t think of that. I don’t know how to fix a trailer roof and I couldn’t afford it anyway. I don’t know what to do.”

  Hollister rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure I can help with the roof, but I might be able to solve your housing problem.”

  Zach cast him a confused look.

  “I own a hotel.” Hollister spread his arms wide. “Follow me to the freight elevator.”

  A few minutes later Zach stood in a dark room.

  Hollister screwed in a lightbulb. “This is the north penthouse.”

  Zach walked around. The interior walls had a few holes and had been stripped of paneling, trim, and electrical switches, but were otherwise intact. A hint of dust lingered in the air, but he detected no smell of damp or mold. “Do you have a flashlight?”

  Hollister handed him one.

  Using it, Zach inspected the ceiling. No stains. Moving to the bathroom he discovered there was no toilet or faucet.

  “I’ve got a faucet, but I haven’t had time to install it, and I need to find a toilet.”

  “We can use the one from our trailer.”

  “Good thinking. You’d need to do the renovation and installation work, but the roof is good. It was the first thing I checked.”

  Zach nodded. “On the way here, DeLynn said you lived in the penthouse.”

  “There are two apartments on the top floor. We live across the hall, in the south penthouse.”

  The thought of living so close to DeLynn intrigued Zach. He grinned.

  Mr. Hollister gave him a disapproving glare. “Living in the hotel is contingent upon you accepting my offer to run the general store.”

  “I think we have a deal.”

  Kent Hollister held out his hand and the two shook.

  As DeLynn drove Zach home, the weight of worry regarding how he and his sister would live that winter lifted. Sadness and regret seeped into its place. The image of the brown-haired man he had killed returned to his mind. He shook his head. Perhaps they had both made bad decisions earlier today. Zach resolved to make better choices in the future.

  “What’s the problem?” DeLynn asked, turning up the driveway to the trailer.

  “Huh?”

  “You haven’t spoken a word since we left the hotel.”

  “Oh, just a lot to think about, I guess.” Zach kissed her and stepped from the car. She drove off as he entered the trailer. Vicki came from her bedroom.

  “Did you find Mr. Hollister and get your business done?”

  “Yeah.” Zach motioned for his sister to sit at the kitchen table. “We need to talk.”

  Vicki sat in her usual spot, across from Zach. “Is there something wrong?” She looked around the disheveled trailer. “Well, more wrong?”

  “No. Hopefully things have turned for the better. How would you like to move into the penthouse at Mr. Hollister’s hotel?”

  Vicki looked skeptical. “Move into a penthouse? I don’t think we have ten dollars between us. How would we pay him?”

  “I’ll get to that in a minute. The penthouse is nice, but it needs some work, well, a lot of work, but compared to this dump, it’s great. Not like in the movies great. I’ll need to take the toilet from here, but it’s dry and warm.”

  “Is there room service? I’m not moving to a penthouse that doesn’t have room service.”

  “What?” Zach looked at her, confused.

  “I’m kidding, brother.” Vicki grinned. “Move from this place into a dry hotel penthouse. Sure. Can we do it tonight?”

  “There’s more. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this … how would you like to help me run a store?”

  “How would we buy a store?” Her eyes grew wide. “You haven’t done anything stupid have you, like sell drugs, or maybe use them?”

  “No, Sis, this is not a drug-induced hallucination.” Zach explained how they would run the store and share the profits with Mr. Hollister.

  “Why is he doing all of this for us?”

  “I think he’s decided that DeLynn and I are serious, and he wants me away from the military and where he can keep an eye on me.”

  “Good.” Vicki grinned. “I want you away from the military.”

  “I think I do, too.” He sighed deeply and stared at the floor.

  Vicki touched his arm. “What’s wrong?”

  In a voice just above a whisper he said, “I killed a man today.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Brennon Trailer Home, the night of Thursday September 24th

  As they talked into the night, Zach poured out the story of the battle at the bridge to Vicki.
Several hours later, when the siblings gazed at each other in thoughtful silence, there were no more tears for the brown-haired man in the button-down shirt, only resolve. They would move out of the broken-down trailer and into the hotel. Zach would quit at the armory and together they would run the general store. There would be no more killing.

  “Will you be okay?” Vicki rested a hand on his shoulder.

  He nodded.

  Vicki yawned and stumbled off to bed.

  Several more hours passed before Zach managed a fitful sleep.

  As DeLynn pulled to a stop outside the trailer the next morning, Vicki turned to Zach. “You should tell her what you told me last night.”

  “Somethings are easier to say to you.” Zach nodded. “But I will … someday.”

  Zach and Vicki stepped from the trailer and together, the three went on to school.

  * * *

  Morton High School, Friday, September 25th

  Sitting in the lobby of the high school that now served as a barracks, Fletcher stared at a map of Morton. Fires still smoldered, but a combination of firefighter efforts and an overnight drizzle largely put them out. Still, that left a third of the downtown as a charred monument to lawlessness and panic.

  Sergeant Garcia walked into view. “The soldiers are ready.”

  Fletcher nodded and then returned his gaze to the map. Most of the people still in Morton were either sick, barricaded in their homes, or both. The hospital, police, and fire department were the only functioning public services. Only about a dozen individuals still served in those areas. They were heroes in his mind, but he wondered how long they could continue.

  He still felt weak and his side ached, but he had a job to do. Fletcher stood. “Okay, we’ve been ordered to establish a checkpoint at White Pass. Let’s saddle up and head out.”

  “Saddle up? Are we going there on horses?” Garcia smiled and rubbed his chin. “Seriously, First Sergeant, why do they want us to make a checkpoint way out there?”

  “Haven’t a clue.” Fletcher walked toward the door.

  * * *

  Hansen Armory, Friday, September 25th

  Brooks stepped into the office holding several pages in one hand.

  Caden hung up the phone. “General Harwich called a meeting of all the area commanders.”