Braving The Storms (Strengthen What Remains Book 3)

by Kyle Pratt

  * * *

  Westmore Farm, Rural Lewis County, Wednesday, October 14th

  A blue sky and yellow sun gave no warmth. Near an ancient Douglas fir tree on the far side of the Westmore farm, two simple coffins rested on boards above open graves. Caden sat in a lawn chair nearby unable to stand for more than a minute or two. He wanted to grieve for both of the dead, but felt only numbness.

  His mother sat on his right, wiping tears from her face. He leaned over and hugged her. Maria stood on his left, dabbing at her eyes. She had broken the news of his father’s death on the way home yesterday. The pain of that news still twisted inside of him.

  There had been so many tears this year. Telling loved ones about death was a duty he had come to know. Such a thankless job. He gently squeezed her hand.

  A joyless smile crossed Maria’s face as she squeezed back.

  As a young man Caden’s greatest wish had been to escape the rural county of his birth and the farm where he lived. He had never hated, and rarely disliked his father, but he had dismissed him as simply a farmer with only a high school diploma. Since the terror attacks and the collapse of the economy, he had come to respect his father’s farming and carpentry skills. Those talents had fed the family that year. Why had he never said that to his father? He stared at the coffin and prayed for a heaven where he might get the chance.

  His gaze drifted to the coffin beside his father’s. Dr. Scott had treated most of the people he knew in the community. Briefly he wondered if she had delivered him, but decided it unlikely. Dr. Scott had been in family practice, not obstetrics. Being a doctor in the town of Hansen had been her life. There was no family that he knew of, except the community. Caden couldn’t let her be buried in a mass grave, so she would be buried here with his family.

  He looked around, nodded to Zach and a few others from the armory. Most of the town should have been there for his father and Dr. Scott, but few attended. Fear of the flu, he told himself.

  He glanced at the low marble marker of Peter’s grave and then at Sue. Her sad red eyes looked down at little Peter in her arms.

  Lisa stood nearby holding hands with Brooks.

  Across from the new graves stood the old headstones marking the resting places of his grandparents, an uncle and two aunts. These weather worn markers, made from local granite, displayed their age like a badge of honor. It gave the place a sense of dignity.

  Caden looked at Hoover in the dress uniform of a sheriff. Normally the eulogy would have fallen to the pastor, but Kern flu had stricken him, too. Perhaps it then would have fallen to Caden, but his recovery had only begun. Thankfully, Hoover had asked to speak.

  The sheriff stepped up to the edge of the graves and looked to the family.

  Caden nodded.

  Hoover coughed to get everyone’s attention, which in a time of pandemic flu probably wasn’t the best idea, but it worked.

  “I’d like to say a few words about my two friends.” Hoover paused for a moment as he stared at the graves. “I met Trevor Westmore my first year on the force.”

  Caden winced, thinking Hoover was about to tell the story of arresting Caden for underage drinking. He hung his head as he recalled phoning his father to bail him out that night.

  “Trevor had been a volunteer only a few months when twenty-five year old deputy Higgins died in a traffic accident. Trevor met with his wife and family, prayed with them and organized the department donation drive. Over the years, I learned that was his way.”

  Caden relaxed a bit.

  Hoover told other events during Trevor’s years at the department. The sheriff also praised his father’s years in the army and how he rallied the community during the most recent crisis. Several were stories Caden had never heard before.

  “Unlike Trevor, Dr. Scott wasn’t born here. She chose this community after medical school. When she came here forty-two years ago, what we call the hospital stood as nothing more than a large clinic. She led and molded it into the legacy that stands today.

  “Dr. Scott lived her life for others and died treating Kern flu patients. How many people are alive today because of her work?” Hoover shook his head. “We’ll probably never know.

  “Neither of them hid their faith, nor did they see it as a cause for pride. It was part of them and determined how they acted. We all benefited and both were examples for me as I matured. I’m saddened that these two pillars of our community were taken from us during this time of suffering, but I know that they are now in glory.”

  From years of Sunday school, Caden caught the Biblical references. He had never seen this side of Hoover before.

  “Trevor Westmore and Dr. Scott are not ghosts lingering among us. They knew their ultimate destination and I am confident they are now at home with the Lord.”

  Others shared memories. When all had finished, Caden stood on shaky legs, walked to Hoover and shook his hand. “Thank you for being a friend.”

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Westmore Farm, Rural Lewis County, Friday, October 16th

  Caden sat on the front porch two days after the funeral, trying to enjoy the sun of an unusually warm autumn morning. The house had always been so full and active. Now the silence and stillness reminded him of a morgue. His mother sat in the living room and stared from grieving eyes. Caden tried to comfort her, but such gestures felt awkward to him. Maria and Sue did a better job of providing solace. Caden wanted to be of help, both physically around the farm and emotionally for his mother and sister, but he knew his efforts in both areas had been mediocre at best.

  Movement caught Caden’s attention. A lone figure walked along Hopps Road. Unusual, but not cause for alarm. He leaned back and tried to relax. His own walks had grown longer with each day and he did additional chores around the farm. He would be well enough to return to the armory on Monday, but wondered if he should. General Harwich phoned Brooks each day inquiring about Caden’s recovery. Each day Brooks put his progress in the worst terms possible, short of an outright lie. This had brought Caden some down time, which he appreciated, but he knew the time had come to phone the general. He tapped out the number.

  “Are you near a secure terminal?”

  “No, I’m still at home.”

  “Are you well enough to go to the armory?”

  “I think so.” Caden didn’t want to appear overly ready for work in light of the more negative reports Brooks had provided the general.

  “Get to the secure phone this morning and call me.”

  “Yes, sir.” He set down his cell, but remained seated on the porch. He felt well enough to go to the armory, just not well enough to hurry.

  In a time of pandemic and lawlessness unscheduled visits to the farm made Caden nervous. The walker, a male with auburn hair, turned from Hopps Road onto the long driveway. He didn’t know many people with red hair and none had cause to be coming to see him. His heart pounded. He laid his hand on the holster and gun beside him.

  Caden recognized the stress that led to irrational actions and heaved a slow, deep breath. Things were better now. His recovering continued. Hoover had pushed the state crime lab to examine the bullets found at the Wilson and Harper farms. They matched the one that killed his father. He’d never met Bachman, the felon that killed his dad, but the criminal had torn through Caden’s life and those dear to him, like a tornado. That storm had died, but the destruction remained for the living to deal with.

  Caden squinted and though he recognized the hiker, now halfway up the driveway. He stood and leaned on the rail for a better view and relaxed. It was Zach. Feeling his legs wobble, Caden sat and waited.

  * * *

  Hansen Armory, Friday, October 16th

  Brooks had worked to provide time for Caden to recover over the last few days. He told his boss only the most pressing news and kept General Harwich at bay with slanted medical updates.

  The general clearly didn’t want to talk with Brooks about the mission Caden would lead, so he had only learned that the command of
ficers were eager for him to recover.

  While Brooks gained little information regarding Caden’s mission, news from the various fronts dominated television, radio, and military message traffic.

  Kern flu had slowed the civil war in the American heartland to a series of skirmishes. In Hawaii the war waged hot. The Kern flu ravaged the Chinese population, but they had a vastly larger pool available for the war effort. So, after days of conflict the Chinese controlled most of Hawaii. Only scattered American resistance continued. Half of the American Pacific fleet had been destroyed before retreating to safer waters.

  News commentators called for a quick return to liberate Hawaii. That combined with the ongoing civil war and the destruction of the Pacific fleet led military planners to decide on defeating Durant, before taking on the Chinese. Reporters seemed to think the next major push against New America forces would occur in the spring. Brooks heard rumors that something would happen sooner and wondered if Caden would be a part of that.

  * * *

  Westmore Farm, Rural Lewis County, Friday, October 16th

  Caden stood again as Zach approached. “Hi. It’s good to see you.” They exchanged pleasantries, shook hands, and Caden motioned for him to sit beside him on the porch. “Why did you walk all the way out here?”

  Zach sat beside him. “Actually I walked out to the Armory first thing this morning. I thought you’d be there, but Lieutenant Brooks said you hadn’t returned to work.”

  “I’ll be back on Monday.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything at the funeral, but … well I got this on Tuesday and I’ve been wondering what I could do.” Zach handed an envelope to Caden. “I’m not a coward, but I don’t want to fight and kill anymore.”

  Caden knew the contents before he opened the letter. “No sane person wants war, but sometimes evil people bring the fight to us.” He read the document. “You could apply as a conscientious objector but, considering your combat record, I doubt the board would accept that.” He sighed, wanting to say something hopeful and encouraging. “You might be able to serve as a medic, but you’d need to be in before that was determined. I could help you get a deferment, but that would only be a delay.” He locked eyes with Zach. “You’re young, healthy and have military experience. Sometime, somewhere, you’re going to be in the fight.”

  * * *

  “I won’t be long but I have to do this.” Caden picked up the keys from the bedside table.

  Maria crossed her arms. “You’re not well enough and you know it.”

  He frowned. “I’m well enough to talk on the phone. The general needs to tell me something classified. I have to use the secure phone at the armory. I won’t even be in uniform.”

  “Oh?” Maria huffed. “That makes all the difference. I’ll drive.”

  “I can drive.”

  She gave him ‘the look’ and held out her hand for the keys.

  He groaned and dropped them into her hand. “Okay, you drive.”

  Silence reigned during the trip until Maria pulled into Caden’s parking space at the armory.

  He opened the passenger door. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  She nodded. “Should I wait here or do you need help with the stairs?”

  Upstairs. The KY-68 secure phone they had received during Operation Hellhound, sat in a locked cabinet in the conference room, on the second floor. He didn’t have the energy to be climbing steps, but male pride forced him to say, “No. I’ll take them slow. It should be easy.”

  Minutes later Caden stood just inside the stairwell on the second floor breathing deeply and wiping sweat from his forehead. When he felt composed, he continued on to the office.

  Brooks and two enlisted soldiers came to attention and saluted as Caden entered.

  “At ease. I need to make a secure call to General Harwich.”

  “Should I be with you?” Brooks asked.

  “No.” Caden continued across the office toward the conference room. “I think the general wants to talk with me alone.”

  Brooks nodded.

  Caden walked into the room and shut the door behind him. He sat at the large table and caught his breath before dialing the general’s secure number.

  An unrecognized voice came through the phone first. “Washington Military Command Center.”

  “This is Major Westmore. General Harwich is expecting my call.”

  It took less than a minute for the general to come on the line. “I’m glad you made it to the armory so I can share additional details about the operation. The first part of the mission will be recon along a certain portion of the Mississippi. Most of your men will remain in areas we control, providing backup and assisting as needed. When you’ve found a good location, you and a few of your men will infiltrate territory controlled by Durant’s New America forces and retrieve an important package.”

  Caden shook his head. Considering he remained weak and Maria was still upset that he left the house, he wanted more details for his effort. “Is there anymore you can tell me, sir?”

  “No, not now. NSA developed the KY-68 we’re using and they remain under Durant’s control. I’m reluctant to go beyond secret in this briefing.”

  “Many soldiers could lead an op like this. Why am I so critical to this mission, sir?”

  “The answers will have to wait until you’re healthy enough for us to meet in a SCIF. Then, I’ll answer some of your questions.”

  The secrecy surrounding the mission, that General Harwich would be briefing him, and that it would be conducted in a room designed to prevent any form of eavesdropping, piqued his interest. “Yes, sir. I’ll update you on Monday.”

  “Can you be ready by then?” General Harwich growled.

  “Yes, sir.” He stood and his legs wobbled beneath him. “I’ll be ready.”

  * * *

  Hollister Hotel, Saturday, October 17th

  Zach needed to rest at the end of a long day. Vicki had been the first to mention how hard DeLynn’s father had been working. All he did was labor on the hotel since his wife died. How could he work so long? Zach had left him last night at eleven and returned before eight to find him already covered in sawdust. Mr. Hollister took most of his meals while working and rarely talked to anyone. He didn’t seem angry, just brooding.

  He entered the elevator and reached for the penthouse button, then changed his mind and pushed the number five. Exiting, Zach walked toward carved double doors. He had noticed the extended patio on the roof of the fifth floor when working in one of the nearby hotel rooms. A quick search revealed the entrance. Wrought iron railings and tiled floor told him this had once been used for gatherings or parties.

  The rusty hinges protested as he pushed the door open and stepped outside.

  Pleased he could be alone there, he breathed deep the crisp autumn air. Many places in the mostly empty hotel provided privacy, but he preferred to be outside. Looking about, he imagined the deck with tables, chairs and happy people.

  Somewhere nearby an engine backfired.

  The party image dissolved into worry. He would soon be training for war. With a sigh of resignation he leaned against the railing and recalled the first combat he’d experienced. Everyone called it the Battle of Hansen, and thought he fought in it. He had been there, but had cowered behind a tree.

  He had killed people while rescuing DeLynn at the ranger cabin, in the riot on East Bridge, and just days ago during Operation Hellhound. All those faces still haunted his dreams. He didn’t think he was a coward, but he didn’t feel particularly brave either.

  The door creaked behind him.

  Zach glanced over his shoulder.

  “I’ve been looking for you.” Vicki walked to the railing and leaned beside him. “Nice view.”

  He nodded. “Why are you here, Sis?”

  “You’re going to have to tell DeLynn about the draft notice.”

  He certainly didn’t want to go to war, but more than anything else he feared DeLynn’s reaction to his de
parture. She had lost her home, her mother, and perhaps she was losing her father. Would he lose her when he had to leave?

  Vicki placed her hand on his shoulder. “She deserves to hear it from you.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Hollister Hotel, Sunday, October 18th

  Zach looked into the sky and thanked God for a mild, cloudless day. Earlier he had found old Christmas lights, a metal table, two chairs, and a few plastic plants to adorn the fifth floor patio. He wound the lights along the railing and in the plants. Then he took a bedsheet, and with Vicki’s assistance folded it for a table cloth.

  With his sister’s help, he prepared a meal of chicken, potatoes and corn. It wasn’t fancy, but it would have to do. Finally, he added the cutlery and hurried to the penthouses.

  Zach entered the elevator with DeLynn in tow and pressed five on the control panel.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  “You’ve never been on the fifth floor?”

  “No. None of the rooms have been renovated. What’s there?”

  The elevator dinged, stopped, and the doors slid open. “You’ll see.” Zach led her down the hall and held opened the wooden door. When she walked onto the patio, he followed her.

  “Wow!” She put her hands to her face. “What’s this for?”

  “You!” He clasped her hand and continued on to the table. “We haven’t had a regular date this year.”

  “Well … these last few months have been….” She shook her head.

  Zach smiled and pulled out her chair.

  Her eyes were on the table as she sat. “You didn’t cook this, did you?”

  “Don’t worry the food is safe. Vicki cooked most of it.”

  She giggled. “I’m sure she did a great job.”

  Zach worked to keep the chat on light topics as they ate, but war, plague, and chaos had replaced the weather as common subjects of conversation. “When do you think school will reopen?”

  DeLynn swallowed a bite of chicken. “Maybe in the spring. That’s the rumor going around.”