Edge of Collapse Series (Book 2): Edge of Madness

by Stone, Kyla

  Quinn looked slightly terrified, but she didn’t refuse.

  “I want a babysitter too!” Juniper shrieked. “I want to have fun!”

  “I’m not fun,” Quinn said sternly. “I tie up my charges with shoelaces and lock them in dark bathrooms.”

  Chloe’s hand shot up. “Me first! Me first!”

  “No, me!” Juniper squealed.

  “And I make them scrub toilets. With toothbrushes.”

  “Can we use Juniper’s?” Chloe asked with glee.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Quinn said darkly.

  Daphne patted Chloe’s head and smiled at Quinn. “I think you’ll do just fine.”

  “It’s too cold out here!” Juniper declared. “Come on! Let’s plan a babysitting party!” She gestured at Milo and her little sister, who both followed obediently and darted back inside.

  “Another thing. Milo has Addison’s disease. He has to take pills at specific times and can’t miss a dose. It’s very important.”

  “I saw his medical bracelet. I knew it was something.” She frowned at him. “I can handle it.”

  Noah didn’t doubt that she could handle pretty much anything thrown her way. It was a character trait needed now more than ever.

  35

  Noah

  Day Five

  “Thanks for meeting with me,” Rosamond said.

  “Of course,” Noah said.

  Rosamond had asked to speak to Noah outside her office. The dim fluorescent lights flickered overhead, and the building was chilly. Everyone still wore their coats inside.

  They were trying to conserve as much fuel for the generator as they could.

  It was late afternoon, and he’d just come from the courthouse basement after checking on Ray and Octavia in their cell. The four Carter brothers were locked up as well.

  When Julian, Reynoso, and Hayes had approached their compound, Tommy Carter had opened fire on them. The half-drunk brothers weren’t expecting the visit and were quickly subdued.

  Julian had gotten his way, after all. Noah wasn’t sure how he felt it about that, yet.

  “I wanted to commend you for everything you’re doing,” Rosamond said. “Not just for your bravery today, but your commitment to the community and excellent ideas.”

  At the council meeting yesterday morning, Noah had brought in a can of red spray paint and suggested they mark the empty homes so law enforcement and other approved volunteers could carefully and respectfully scavenge their supplies to share with the townsfolk who needed it.

  People had started breaking into the empty homes anyway; it was better to have the supplies distributed fairly.

  At least 20 percent of the houses were unoccupied due to people being trapped elsewhere for the holidays. Nineteen houses had also become empty after their owners succumbed to hypothermia or preexisting conditions.

  When people finally made it home, they would have to understand that Fall Creek did what it had to do to keep their neighbors and friends alive. They would get it.

  Chief Briggs had resisted at first but had eventually come around. Certain council members had seemed a little too thrilled with the idea of breaking into their neighbor’s homes, namely Darryl Wiggins.

  Rosamond rested her manicured fingers on Noah’s forearm. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

  “You’re welcome. We’re all doing the best that we can. We’ll pull together.”

  Abruptly, the careful calm gave way, and a few cracks in her composure appeared. For the first time, he saw the worry in her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  She sniffed. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here, Noah. I love Julian, but he’s not . . . reliable like you are. I know I can always depend on you. Always. At least I have you. My Gavin hasn’t returned yet.”

  Noah would forever be grateful to her for the way she’d always included him as one of the boys. As if he was really one of her sons and not just some stray tagalong.

  He’d tried to like Gavin Pike for her sake. There was just something about him that rubbed Noah the wrong way. He’d never really been able to put a finger on it, or articulate why. Hannah hadn’t cared for him either.

  Gavin was easy to ignore. He was just this quiet guy in the background. He was

  Rosamond’s favorite, which Julian had always resented, but it hadn’t bothered Noah.

  Rosamond’s first husband, a musician, had taken off when Gavin was little. Rosamond had remarried a lawyer and had Julian a few years later. The lawyer had cheated, and Rosamond had booted him and raised both boys by herself.

  Maybe Rosamond had leaned on Gavin more, since he was the oldest. Noah had never really understood their dynamics. He just knew that he had Julian, who was as close as a brother, and Rosamond, a surrogate mother and grandmother rolled into one.

  “He was supposed to come home for Christmas Eve dinner. Five p.m. sharp, like clockwork every single year.” Her eyes took on a distant look, like she was reliving good memories. “He always brings me lilies, did you know that?”

  “Maybe he’s helping corral the inmates at the prison and can’t get word back to you. It’s horrible with the lack of communication. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  “I’m sure he will. Still, it’s a mother’s prerogative to worry, isn’t it?” She smoothed the front of her navy suit jacket, composing herself. When she looked at Noah again, her eyes were clear and filled with purpose. “Speaking of worry. I’m worried about you and Milo in that freezing house of yours.”

  “We’re fine,” he said automatically, even though they weren’t, not by a long shot.

  He was shocked at how quickly they went through firewood. He’d already set aside two end tables, an old bookshelf, and a credenza to be chopped up first for added fuel. Even if he burned all his furniture, he’d still run out sooner rather than later.

  At least he didn’t have to worry about keeping the house warm during the day with Milo at the church with Quinn and the Bishop girls.

  “And food?”

  “We’re getting low, but we’re making do.”

  He fiddled with his wedding ring, embarrassed they didn’t have more. Hannah had always tried to have a month’s worth of food in winter, if not more. Their pantry had always been fully stocked—as much as their budget would allow.

  With work and parenting responsibilities, Noah had let things slip. His face warmed with shame.

  How wrong he had been, about so many things.

  Rosamond shook her head. “It won’t do, Noah. I won’t have Milo freezing cold in that drafty house. Not with his condition. It’s not right.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “I have a surprise. I’ve set aside a house in Winter Haven.”

  Noah balked. “I can’t take someone’s house—”

  “The Garcias are in Aruba. When do you think they’re coming home? Not for a while. If and when they return, we’ll gladly give them their home back, in the same condition that we found it. But I will not stand by and let that boy freeze to death when there is a perfectly good home for him with lights and heat and hot water.”

  Noah shook his head. It still felt wrong, like stealing. Like invading someone else’s personal space. Taking something that belonged to someone else, that wasn’t his, shouldn’t be his.

  “We must utilize unused resources.” Rosamond squeezed his arm. “I know you’re too humble to accept this for yourself. But you do deserve it. After all you’ve been through? That boy needs a hot bath and homemade macaroni and cheese baking in the oven. And electricity to power his PlayStation. Milo deserves it. Do it for him, for my adopted grandson.”

  “But—” Noah sputtered.

  “It’s already done. I’m sending some people by your place around six. Have your bags packed.”

  Everything Rosamond said was true. Milo was medically fragile. His vulnerability was something Noah never forgot, not for one second.

  Noah remembered the terror and helplessness
he’d felt trapped on the chairlift. That sense of powerlessness. He’d do nearly anything to keep from feeling that way again.

  He was Milo’s father. It was his job to keep his son safe. At any cost.

  If that meant accepting a monumental gift that he didn’t deserve or earn, then so be it.

  A tightness released inside his chest. Wetness filled Noah’s eyes against his will. He blinked hard, gratitude filling him. “I can’t repay you—”

  Rosamond waved her hand. “Forget it. You’ve always been a son to me, since that first time you came over, a shy skinny kid who could barely look me in the eye. What I remember is how you nearly ate me out of house and home.”

  Noah blushed.

  “I need you, Noah. I need to know I can depend on you. Tempers are getting short. Reality is starting to sink in. You’ve always been the peacemaker. That’s what we need now more than ever.”

  “Of course. Whatever I can do.”

  A genuine smile spread across her face. “We’re family, Noah. This is what family does.”

  He started to say something else, but she was already turning away as two of her office staff approached, strained expressions on their faces. One of them whispered something urgently in her ear, and she turned on her heel and strode after them without a backward glance.

  Noah was left standing alone in the beige hallway, his mouth hanging open, still not entirely sure what had just happened. That was the way things went with Rosamond Sinclair.

  She got her way, whether you liked it or not.

  She was a brisk, tough, no-nonsense woman. Not everyone liked her. But in Noah’s experience, she had always done right by him.

  And for that, she had his gratitude. And his loyalty.

  36

  Noah

  Day Six

  “What’s the superintendent up to now?” Reynoso murmured.

  Noah shrugged and scratched at the grizzle of new beard growing along his jawline. He liked to keep his face smooth-shaven, but he’d had little time or inclination over the last week.

  More important things had taken precedence—like keeping Fall Creek from falling apart.

  “Who cares?” Hayes shot back. He stuffed another roll of oven-warmed artisan bread smothered with melted cheese into his mouth. Crumbs spilled down his chest. “If all committee meetings are like this from here on out, I’ll die a happy man.”

  Rosamond Sinclair had called another morning council meeting, this one at her house in Winter Haven. There were more important buildings than town hall that needed electricity. In one fell swoop, she’d moved headquarters to her place.

  Her home was a self-sufficient mini-mansion with a log-hewn exterior, the interior boasting Brazilian wood floors, vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and marble counters and bathroom tiles. Everything was oversized, ornate, and lavish. Not Noah’s style at all, but he still admired every elegant detail.

  Everyone else was far more jealous of the lights and heat, the working stove, and the delicious hum of the stainless-steel refrigerator.

  The council members gathered in the elaborate formal living room, sprawling on the velvet sofas and chairs. Stools and brocade dining room chairs had been dragged into the room for additional seating.

  Two of the superintendent’s assistants were passing around platters of finger foods—pigs in a blanket, quiches, and tiny burritos. All hot and steaming. All delicious.

  For a second, you could almost forget the country had just been plunged into chaos. That their small town was cut off from the world, trapped in cold and darkness, utterly alone. That no help from the government had come and might not be coming for weeks or months. Almost.

  Guilt pricked him. Noah and Milo had moved into their own beautiful log cabin in the Winter Haven community last night. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as Rosamond’s, but that didn’t matter.

  The solar panels were working, along with a generator for the days without enough sunlight. The pantry still had a good two weeks’ worth of food.

  After only a few days without electricity, it already felt like a precious luxury. Noah and Milo had wallowed in it. Took hot showers. Baked a frozen pan of gooey mac and cheese, just like Rosamond had suggested, and ate the whole thing between them.

  It was the first night Noah had slept soundly since the EMP.

  Still, it was a solution to only one of the many insurmountable problems facing him. His worry over Milo’s meds was growing every day.

  Rosamond clapped her hands, drawing everyone’s attention. The room grew respectfully silent. Stiff-backed, she sat on a stool beneath the arched entrance between the living room and dining room, the bright shiny kitchen behind her.

  “Thank you all for coming. I hope you enjoyed dinner. There’s more where that came from, I assure you. I promised I would take care of you, and I will. But first, a few important items.

  “As we’ve discussed, we simply do not have enough trained law enforcement professionals to keep the peace. We’ve already recruited as many former military townspeople as we could find as reserve officers. It’s not enough.

  “We need trained, specialized individuals to provide security and ensure that what’s ours remains ours, and that our families—our children—are safe here. No one wants to see a tragedy like what nearly happened yesterday. Thanks to Officer Sheridan’s quick thinking, no one was killed. As optimistic as I am, I don’t believe we will be that lucky again.”

  Low murmurs around the room. The news of the altercation at the Crossway food pantry had spread quickly. People were relieved that the culprits were locked up in the courthouse basement, but they weren’t the town’s only problems.

  “Some of you know my second cousin, Mattias Sutter, commander of the Volunteer Militia Brigade of Southwest Michigan up near Allegan. Dave Farris has successfully contacted him over the ham radio. He is willing to assist us in providing security—”

  “You want to invite the Michigan Militia into Fall Creek?” Chief Briggs interrupted, incredulous.

  “Technically, they broke off from the Michigan Militia last year and formed their own brigade.” Rosamond pressed her lips together. “I’m merely offering some resources for discussion. I do think they could offer significant security benefits.”

  “We can use all the help we can get,” Julian said. “It’s only a matter of time before the chaos in the cities makes its way here. We need to put up barricades with abandoned vehicles and a few guards on Old 31 coming into and going out of town.”

  “We’re already stretched too thin to set up roadblocks,” Reynoso said, glancing at Julian for affirmation. “Not effective ones, anyway. There aren’t enough of us.”

  Dave Farris stood and pushed back his stool. “I’m not against security and safety. But we better think mighty hard before we let a bunch of strangers into our town. Fall Creek isn’t as hard-off as a lot of other places. We have several freshwater sources nearby for drinking and fishing. Fall Creek, not to mention the St. Joe River, Lake Chapin, and of course, Lake Michigan. Once spring and summer hits, we have orchards and farms everywhere. Michigan has almost ten million acres of farmland.”

  Dave had a point. The counties along the southwestern border of Michigan were known as the fruit belt. The softly rolling hills, sandy and fertile soil, and proximity to Lake Michigan created a favorable climate for fruit production. Grapes, peaches, apples, pears, plums, and strawberries all flourished here.

  Michigan farmland also produced corn, soybeans, wheat, potatoes, onions, tomatoes, asparagus, blueberries, and raspberries—the list went on. Not to mention the thousands of acres reserved for dairy cows and egg production. U-pick farms and orchards were scattered across Berrien and neighboring counties.

  “The way I see it, if we can just make it through this winter, we’ll be alright,” Dave said. “We’ve also got Winter Haven—a whole neighborhood with power. Seems these folks might come in and decide they like it enough to just take over and push us out. And what’s to stop them if they�
�re bigger and stronger than we are?”

  Low murmurs of agreement rippled through the living room.

  “We aren’t inviting in an unknown element,” Chief Briggs growled. “The Fall Creek Police Force oversees enforcing law and order in Fall Creek. Period. No discussion.”

  “The militia isn’t the law,” Dave said. “They don’t exactly have the best reputation.”

  “That’s not all of ’em, Dave,” Mike said. “The Michigan Militia numbers in the thousands. Lots of good folks ready to defend themselves and their loved ones from threats foreign and domestic. My brother and nephews are in a brigade up near Holland.”

  “It’s no different than a company hiring private security,” Wiggins said loudly. Deep circles ringed his eyes. He looked exhausted. “It’s the smart thing to do. We need to be safe, period. The world is going to hell out there and we need protection.”

  “Not sure if we want men we don’t know with guns and the run of the town,” Annette King said. “Sounds like a recipe for trouble, you ask me.”

  Several council members nodded adamantly. Most looked confused and unsure.

  Noah fiddled anxiously with his wedding ring. He didn’t want armed strangers in their town any more than anyone else did, but he also knew how shorthanded they were, how vulnerable.

  “If Rosamond is for it, then we should acquiesce to her expertise,” Wiggins said. He glanced around at the council. “Come on.”

  “This isn’t a dictatorship, Rosamond,” Chief Briggs snapped. “You can’t just take over and ram this through—”

  “I would never push my agenda on any of you. It must be a group vote.” Rosamond’s expression was as serene as always, but the corner of her eye twitched. “Let’s have a raise of hands, shall we?”

  The vote was cast quickly. Most were against, but Rosamond, Julian, and Wiggins voted for it.

  Rosamond’s face didn’t change. She removed a nonexistent piece of lint from her skirt and folded her hands in her lap. “If you think Fall Creek is better off on our own, then so be it.”