by RH Fox
They moved slowly into the kitchen where Stubs motioned to Chase, “You. Come here.”
Chase looked at his parents questioningly and Matt inclined his head angrily.
Stubs grabbed the teen as soon as he was within reach and stepped away from Dreia, putting his gun to Chase’s temple.
“Stop! You’re right, I know why . . .” Dreia started.
“Shut up and take this.” He tossed her a roll of duct tape he’d had around his wrist. “Sit down and put your hands behind your back, through the slats in the chair,” he ordered Matt, before addressing Dreia again. “Tape his hands together, then each leg to the legs of the chair.”
“You’re going to regret what you’re doing,” Matt said in a dangerous tone.
“No, your wife will be the one with regrets tonight. Put a piece over his mouth, too. I have no interest in what he has to say.”
Dreia’s hands shook as she followed the directions, praying that Abbie had slipped out to go for help. When she was done securing Matt to the chair Stubs instructed her to sit in another one. He instructed Chase to tape her hands and legs as well.
“It’s okay, baby,” she reassured him as he did what he was told. She appealed to Stubs, “What happened to Tag is my fault. Please let them go. You can punish me.”
“I am punishing you, Dreia. You’re going to beg for your son’s life before the night’s over. But not quite yet. Put a piece of tape over her mouth, too. Good. Now, sit down over there,” he ordered Chase, pointing to a stool near the island. Stubs laid his gun down on the granite, then taped Chase’s legs to the barstool and his hands in front of him. He stood back to survey the room.
“Everyone cozy? Mom, dad, and son. All we’re missing is the . . . daughter, you said?” He looked at Dreia, who nodded slowly. “I think I’ll wait until she gets home before I start your lesson.”
Stubs noticed Matt pulling at the tape on his hands, working it slowly where Dreia had left it loose.
“How neglectful of me not to check Dreia’s handiwork. I should know by now not to underestimate her,” he added harshly.
He wrapped more tape around Matt’s hands several times, covering them all the way down to the fingertips and allowing no movement at all. Then, he did the same to Dreia’s hands as a precaution.
“Now,” he stood back and rubbed his own hands together, “what’s for dinner?”
The intruder walked around to the other side of the island and looked over the food Matt had set out. Bread, peanut butter, jelly and a few bags of potato chips were all open. As Stubs began making himself a sandwich, movement in the living room caught Dreia’s attention. A feeling of panic crept over her at the sight of Abbie sliding along the wall.
Dreia checked to see if the others noticed. Matt was focused solely on Stubs, his body visibly vibrating with rage, and Stubs was intent on the food. Chase, however, was watching the living room too. Suddenly, he started rocking his body back and forth.
Stubs stopped spreading peanut butter. “Knock it off, kid.”
At the same moment that Chase crashed to the ground, Abbie stepped around the doorframe and gunshots exploded into the room. Stubs grabbed his chest, propelled backward by the force and hitting the counter behind him. Abbie kept pulling the trigger until she was out of rounds. Then, she dropped the empty magazine and pulled a second one from her back pocket, slamming it into place without lowering the gun. Releasing the slide to chamber the first round, she held it in front of her and advanced cautiously around the island where Stubs had slid to the floor.
Whatever she saw satisfied her enough to finally put the weapon down. She grabbed a knife from the block on the counter and cut Matt free first. He scooped the gun up off the counter while still ripping the tape off his mouth, and rounded the island to check for himself. Abbie freed Dreia next, giving her the knife to cut Chase loose and walked over to stand next to her dad. Matt crushed her to his side.
Dreia quickly, but carefully, sliced through the tape holding Chase to the chair before rushing around to find Stubs staring at the ceiling, unblinking. When Chase tried to round the island too, Dreia twirled and pulled him against her chest to block his view of the bloody mess on their kitchen floor.
“Uh, Mom,” he said calmly, looking over her shoulder at Stubs, “I’m taller than you now, remember?”
Neither Matt nor Abbie could hold back the shaky laughs that escaped.
“Stop laughing! We have a dead man on our kitchen floor!” Dreia shrieked.
“Pretty sure he wasn’t one of the good guys, Mom, or he wouldn’t have taped you up at gunpoint,” Abbie stated reasonably.
Dreia didn’t know how to feel about Abbie emptying a magazine into someone’s chest and then standing there almost completely unfazed.
“What happened while we were gone?” she finally asked.
Abbie and Chase looked at each other before Abbie answered, “We grew up.”
It was Dreia and Matt’s turn to look at each other.
“I think we all have some stories to share, but first Dad and I need to clean up this mess. You two go upstairs while we take care of it.”
“We can help,” Abbie said. “Chase, go get the big blue tarp in the garage. I’ll get water from the old well.”
Dreia didn’t think she could handle any more surprising behavior from her children. Her face must have shown it.
“What?” Abbie asked. “The faster we take care of him, the sooner we can eat and discus when we’re leaving for Missouri.”
“We haven’t had a chance to talk about what we’re going to do, yet,” Matt told her.
“But what about Grandma and Grandpa?”
“Aunt Brielle and the kids will help them.”
“At the hospital?”
“What are you talking about?” Dreia asked.
“Ava said Aunt Brielle texted you.”
Dreia looked confused at first, then remembered the two texts from her sister that she’d never had the chance to check the morning the power went out.
Abbie continued, “Grandma and Grandpa were in a car accident. A really bad one. Ava said they life-flighted Grandma downtown and Aunt Brielle was rushing to the hospital. She wasn’t sure about Grandpa, though, and I lost service before I heard anything else.”
Dreia looked at Matt, “If Brielle was downtown when the grid failed, what if she didn’t make it back to Grams and the girls?” Her voice hitched, thinking about her ninety-year-old grandmother and teenage nieces trying to survive on their own. “And my dad . . ."
Matt wrapped his arms around her. “We need to really think this through, Dreia. You’re suggesting we cross twelve hundred miles in the middle of a country about to go downhill quickly. Dragging our children through that. Everything you’ve prepared is here.”
“Uh. . .” Abbie cleared her throat to get their attention, “about that. Some of mom’s stuff was taken when we had our problems here. A lot of it actually.” She looked down, feeling tremendous guilt that it happened when she was supposed to be in charge.
“If that’s true, how can we realistically survive here?” Dreia continued. “We’re too close to a major metropolitan area on the most densely populated coast. A large fraction won’t make it through summer, but that’ll leave the ones ruthless enough to survive heading straight toward us when the weather gets colder. We could spend five or six months expanding the garden and building a sustainable life with what’s left, only to have to fight for it every time new people pass by and want what we have.”
“Our new reality will be fighting for what’s ours, Dreia. At least here we have a defendable home-field advantage and neighbors we trust.”
“Neighbors aren’t family. What happens if we have a bad season and run low on food? Is anyone here going to take away from their own family to feed ours? We’re still the outsiders, Matt, even after four years. Our best option at survival is making it back to the people we can trust without question.”
Matt started to look uncertain,
so she pushed forward.
“You said yourself there’s a possibility someone might eventually come looking for you. If there’s even a chance they’re still able to access to this address, we’re in as much danger here as we would be on the road. Plus, have you thought about your own parents? If we don’t go now, it could be years before it’s safe to travel again. Will you be able to make peace with not being there to help them survive and missing the time your dad might have left without his medication?”
Dreia knew she had him. Both kids remained silent, waiting for a decision.
“You’re right. But we have a lot to do. It’ll take time to get everything planned and ready for a trip like this.”
“Unless the supplies in the guest room closet were taken,” Dreia looked at Abbie, who shook her head no, “then we can leave as soon as we want.”
Matt stared at her, “Are you serious?”
“I guess my apocalypse anxiety wasn’t so farfetched after all, huh?” Dreia couldn’t resist the jab before wrapping her arms around her husband. She was too relieved that the three most important people in her world were all safe and under one roof to really give any of them a hard time about the years of teasing they’d dished out. Instead, she focused her attention on forward progress. “Come on. Let’s get this body out of the kitchen so we can make plans.”
Sneak Peak at Matt’s story
Intentional Darkness: Matthew Bennett
“Major Bennett?”
Matthew Bennett looked up from the bag he’d been digging through in the backseat of his truck. Completely absorbed in finding the keycard to his old office, the tinted windows had blocked the MP’s approach. He hadn’t heard that title in more than four years and the stony expression he presented rivaled that of a champion poker player. Calmly shouldering his laptop bag, he shut the crew cab’s back door before turning to face the two men squarely.
“It’s just Matt now.”
“We need you to come with us, sir.”
Matt stared at the young officers, mind racing. He hadn’t done anything to warrant being picked up as a civilian, however, his past experience with military police taught him any argument would fall on deaf ears. There was also no ignoring them. That left him with little choice but to abide, so he rearranged his face into something he hoped resembled cooperation and swept his arm out in front of him.
“Lead the way.” Matt clicked the lock button on his key fob as he followed them to a white SUV prominently marked with the naval police insignia. After fourteen years in the Marine Corps, seeing everything around him branded Navy had taken some getting used to.
Once he settled himself in the backseat, the younger sailor climbed in beside him while the other slid behind the wheel. Matt was silent as they exited Bates Creek Annex, wondering how they’d located him there. His contract position in Hampton Roads had been transferred to another base recently, and he’d only returned to his old office to finish up some last minute paperwork. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble tracking him down in the short window of time he planned to be there.
“Where are we headed?” he inquired curiously.
“Naval Station Norfolk, sir.”
Matt was irritated with the abrupt interruption to his day. He refused to sit back and wait patiently for them to be more forthcoming, and made sure his tone conveyed that when he spoke again. “Because . . .?”
“They’ve got an Osprey waiting to take you to DC.”
“DC?” Matt repeated, his stony facade momentarily slipping.
There were very few situations that would demand a former intelligence officer be placed on an Osprey bound for DC, and none of them were good. Matt immediately reached for his bag in the seat beside him, but froze when the man next to him tensed and put his hand on his weapon.
“Whoa!” Matt quickly held his hands up and spoke calmly, “I’m just getting my phone, so I can call my wife and let her know I’m going to be late for dinner. I was supposed to pick up the pizza tonight.”
The agitated sailor relaxed and nodded slightly, so Matt opened the flap and reached into the pocket where he kept his cell phone. It was empty. He patted down all the other pockets before realizing it must still be sitting in the center console of his RAM.
“Shit! I don’t have my phone. We need to run back to my truck.”
“Sorry, sir, we’re on a tight schedule. There’s no time to turn around,” the driver answered curtly.
Matt ground his teeth together. “Fine, but I still need to call my wife. Can I borrow one of your phones?”
“Sorry, sir. We don’t carry personal phones on duty. New regulation.”
Matt was reminded just how much the phrase ‘sorry, sir’ made his blood boil. Not being able to contact his wife fanned the flames even further. He struggled to hold on to his temper by reasoning that Dreia, a first grade teacher, was already in class anyway. If by some miracle she answered, trying to explain an involuntary trip to DC would only cause her to worry anyway. Still irritated, though, he settled back in the seat and watched buildings race by at a speed just shy of requiring lights and a siren.
Once they reached the naval station, his escorts completely bypassed the line of cars waiting at the gate. After the guards waved them through, their speed increased substantially and the driver did engage the lights and siren for their trek across the huge naval base. Matt gripped the oh shit handle tightly as they rounded corners, only slowing down when a large hanger came into view. The driver stopped next to a row of MV-22 Ospreys, and he saw that one was already powered up and ready for departure. Without another word, he was hurried out of the vehicle and handed off to the crew chief waiting at the aircraft’s steps.
Matt nodded to the staff sergeant, who wordlessly motioned for him to proceed onto the aircraft. The roar of the rotors made it impossible to hear anything without an earpiece and mic. Finding only the pilot and copilot onboard, Matt belted himself into the indicated seat where he thankfully accepted a helmet that would allow him to communicate with the crew. Listening in as they finished the preflight checks, he braced himself for the rolling vertical take-off. It wasn’t as smooth as a helicopter’s ascent, and the anxiety already coiled in his midsection deepened as he fought off a feeling of nausea. No matter how often he’d flown, takeoffs and landings still got to him.
“Doing alright, Major Bennett?”
Matt found the staff sergeant studying him closely as the Osprey lurched forward and picked up speed at an astonishing rate. Probably wondering if he needed to quickly supply a barf bag.
“It’s just Matt. And yes, I’ll be fine. I don’t suppose you’re willing to share any information about why I’m on my way to DC? My previous escorts were less than forthcoming.”
“Sorry, sir. All I know is that we have orders to deliver you to the south lawn of the White House.”
Matt digested that information with a good dose of concern. Their destination narrowed who the orders must have come down from, and he wondered what other surprises were in store. He spent the entire forty-five minute flight running possible scenarios through his mind, becoming more worried by the second. The final few years of his military career had been with an intelligence unit focused on the evolving cyber warfare capabilities of their adversaries. He couldn’t help but conclude there was a connection between his somewhat outdated expertise on Eastern Asia and their recent dominance in the nightly news.
Matt was distracted from the disturbing thoughts looping through his mind as the Osprey began to rapidly slow down. He caught his breath as they flew over the Washington Monument and descended steeply onto the White House lawn. Watching Marine One make the same maneuver on TV was awe-inspiring, and never in a million years had he expected to find himself experiencing it firsthand. Touching down in front of such a restricted and iconic location was surreal, and he almost forgot he wasn’t exactly a willing guest.
A single man was waiting under the covered patio and he hurried out when the Osprey’s steps were lowered.
Matt relinquished his flight helmet and made sure he had his laptop bag, which was the only thing tethering him to normalcy at this point. Holding it tightly to his side, he disembarked hoping to finally get some answers.
The suit was closing in, hand extended. “Major Bennett? Todd Johnson, Chief of Staff.”
Matt shook hands firmly, repeating yet again, “It’s just Matt.”
Todd simply smiled and led him swiftly toward the White House. “If you’ll just follow me, the President’s waiting for you in the Situation Room.”
“Not something I expected to hear today.”
“I can imagine. I’ll admit there’s a lot happening right now that I didn’t expect when I woke up this morning either.”
“Can you tell me anything, sir?”
“I’ll leave that to the President and General Allen. We’ll be there momentarily.”
“I figured as much.” Matt glanced back at the lawn as they entered the White House. The Osprey was lifting off, giving him his first real notion that this wasn’t going to be a brief trip.
Matt followed the other man down several hallways, getting stopped for an unapologetic pat down before being ushered into an elevator. When the doors opened seconds later, it wasn’t hard to recognize where he was based on the busy computer banks and communication stations taking up one side of the room. The giant table and wall of TV screens dominating the other half were surprisingly similar to how they were portrayed in the movies. Despite that, Matt still experienced a small rush of adrenaline when he recognized the President of the United States himself standing to greet him.
“Major Bennett, thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“It’s just Matt, Mr. President. And I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”
Matt’s story will be out on January 15th, 2019! Pre-order here: Intentional Darkness: Matthew Bennet
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