by S. Ison
Janet got up from the table and walked over to a large tallboy, Mike watched as she took a key from her apron and unlocked the long doors. His brows shot up when she opened the door to reveal two AR15s, one black and one pink camouflage. He also saw a Glock 19 and a small Ruger, 9 mm. The smaller guns hung on pegs. Boxes and boxes of ammunition were stacked in there, and several belts that held magazines for the AR15s. Some of the magazines were pink.
He shook his head, amazed. Janet looked at him, a huge grin on her face. Then it cleared. “I’m sorry I didn’t arm you when you left here. I thought you had more than just the one gun.”
He saw the tears in her eyes and held up his hand. “Don’t, Janet. I wanted to put hands on those bastards, and a bullet wouldn’t have done it,” Mike said softly, his eyes narrowing in remembrance. “But I know I can’t afford to just go in and hit and run anymore, because at some point they’re going to figure it out and head back this way.”
“You’re probably right,” Jada said, coming out of the bathroom wearing a flannel shirt and sweatpants. Her head was wrapped in a towel.
Mike looked up and smiled. She looked almost human again. Her face was flushed from the hot water, and she had a fresh scrubbed sheen to her skin. He noted that she had just a hint of olive in her skin, and wondered at her origins.
Sitting at the table, Jada picked up her coffee cup and sipped. Sheer bliss softened her eyes. He saw her look at the left-over gingerbread on his plate, and he shoved it toward her and smiled.
She grinned back at him, and pulled it to her. Mike got up with Zack and walked to the tallboy. Janet reached out and took the baby, then went upstairs to the bedroom.
She came back down, having laid the baby down for a nap. She took out the pink camouflaged AR15 and handed it to Mike.
“My husband bought these weapons some years ago. He said he didn’t like the way our country was going. Said he felt better if we could both defend ourselves. So, he got these, and taught me how to use them. Said the Army taught him, and it wasn’t so hard. He was right,” Janet smiled.
“These are nice,” Mike said. He could smell gun oil. The weapons were in top condition.
As though reading his mind, Janet answered the unasked question. “Yes, I keep them clean and well oiled. I’ve not shot them in years, but my husband always said a dirty weapon is a deadly weapon. So, I keep ’em nice and clean.”
“All I can say is wow. These are really nice,” Mike said.
“Do you know how to use them?” Janet asked.
“No, I’ve never used one. How about you, Jada?” Mike asked, looking over to Jada, whose cheek bulged out with gingerbread.
She couldn’t speak, but shook her head.
“They’re easy to use, and lightweight. They have a little kick, but not much. I think this should help equalize the fight with these people,” Janet said. “Tomorrow, I will show you. We can’t fire them, mind, because that would draw attention. But maybe once you head back, you can find a place and practice before you find them again.”
“That sounds good to me,” Jada said, smiling.
“Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you, Janet. I don’t know what I would do without you. I don’t know what Zack and I would do without you,” Mike said, his eyes large and solemn.
Janet patted his arm, put the AR15 away, and locked the tallboy. Stepping into the bathroom, she reappeared with a large tooth comb in hand.
“Now, let’s straighten out that hair, young lady,” Janet said, and Mike smiled at the militant gleam in the old woman’s eyes. She looked ready to do battle with Jada’s tangled mass.
Topsfield, Maine
Tim was eating fried eggs and fried potatoes. The dogs were outside, and only Chloe kept him company. He wasn’t really hungry, but knew he had to eat. He was worried sick, and hadn’t heard from Kenny in a few days.
He watched the kitten scratch at the door, and got up to let her out. She was house trained, thanks to Schrodinger’s Cat. He was glad, as he had no idea how one would go about training a cat. The large dog trotted over, picked up her charge, and headed for the woods. Tim shook his head in wonder.
The snow was starting to melt faster now, the temps averaging in the low 40s. He knew there could be plenty more snow to come, but at least spring was trying to come. He turned when he heard clicks on the radio, and set his plate on the kitchen counter.
Sitting before the radio, he waited for Kenny to speak.
“Tim, this is SniperOne. Over.”
“SniperOne, go ahead. Over.”
“Roger. Tim, my grandson’s a headin’ your way. He’ll take carra things. You come on here when he arrives. Over.”
Tim’s heart hammered in his chest, and prickles of sweat stung his palms. He keyed the mike. “Roger. See you soon. Out.”
He got up and paced the room, not sure what to do first. Going to the bedroom, he pulled out a backpack and put some clothing in it. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone. He then went to the kitchen, got paper, and began writing out instructions, timetables and so on. Then he went to the basement to get his gear.
He’d built a weapons cabinet there, made from scrap cedar. Inside was his tactical vest, his NVG, clips for his Taurus and his MSG-90 rifle. He pulled out boxes of cartridges and placed them in his bag. Looking around, he chose his Gerber Guardian knife, in case it came to hand to hand. He doubted it, but he didn’t know where or in what situation Kelly was being held.
He felt the flush of rage roil over him, like an oncoming wave. It flowed through his body. He allowed it. He let the feeling sweep through his blood, because once he left here, it would be cold and calculation until he got her back. He couldn’t let emotion or fear overtake him. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to function as efficiently as he needed to.
Going back upstairs, he heard the dogs barking. Going outside, he quieted them and heard the rumble of a truck. He figured it was Kenny’s grandson, but readied his Taurus just in case.
A rusted blue Ford pickup came around the tree line. Tim could see a young man in the driver’s seat. He relaxed.
The young man, Tim guessed early twenties, got out of the truck, his solemn face freckled and blue eyes clear. He stuck out a hand, and Tim took it and shook it firmly.
“Granpa said that I was ta stay hera until you came back. My name is Andrew,” the young man said.
Tim nodded, and took Andrew into the cabin. Walking over to the kitchen, he took the paper and handed it over. He noticed Andrew’s gaze resting on his hand, and realized that he still had bright cherry red fingernail polish on.
A smile tugged at his broad mouth. “It’s not really my color. It’s more Kelly’s,” was all he said.
Kelly liked to paint his nails, her nails, his toenails and her toenails. His toenails were, in fact, five different shades of red, pink, and oranges. His heart squeezed. They’d not been apart for so many months. He missed her dearly.
“This is pretty much everything you need to know. Make sure you keep a low fire going in the greenhouse. Keep a close eye on the temp, as we need to make sure we get some kind of garden grown. These bastards have made it so Kelly and I can’t be here to take care of things.”
Tim tried to keep the anger and emotion out of his voice, but he was struggling to keep it tamped down. His lips thinned, and he went on. “There’s food in the pantry, fridge, and if I’m gone too long, there’s more in the basement. The information for the animals and their feeding schedule is written down.”
“Looks clear enough. My fatha, Paul Summers, wanted to know iffin you’d bring Hope with you. He wanted to get to know her while you and he and my grandpa were together.”
Tim agreed. Gathering up his gear, he went outside and whistled for the young female pup. Hope came loping gracefully from the trees, her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth.
Going over to the truck, he opened the door and motioned her in. Chance came trotting over, an expectant look in his large light brown eyes.
“
Sorry. Boy. You have to stay here with mom and Chloe. Keep this place safe, boy,” Tim said, and stood looking around his home. He didn’t want to be morbid, thinking it might be the last time he’d see it, but he felt a tingle of apprehension. He crushed that down fast. He didn’t need that bullshit swimming in his brain. Stay frosty, he told himself.
⅏
Kelly stood at the window. She was on the second floor of the farmhouse. It was cold, but not as cold as the windowless room she’d been in first. She guessed she was over the kitchen, as warmth radiated up from the floor. She also heard the murmuring of men below.
It was cloudy outside, a completely dreary day. Just like her mood. She saw fallow fields around, and no other buildings in sight. She had no idea where she was; it was an innocuous farm. There was land aplenty to plant, and yet these fools chose to kidnap for easy gains. The only thing they would end up gaining for their efforts was a bullet to the brain, she was certain.
She marveled once more at their arrogance and stupidity. It was like some cheesy B movie with idiot bad guys, and everyone knew they were doomed to fail except themselves. The world had gone to hell, and apparently so had these people’s common sense. It was a deadly game they were playing, and war was its only conclusion.
She went over to the toilet bucket. Beside it was a smaller bucket of wood ash and pine shavings. This was used for the compost toilet. Kelly pulled her jeans down. She kept them unbuttoned now, as they were becoming uncomfortable around her growing belly. At least they were feeding her on a regular basis.
She grabbed the rough toilet paper – it looked like a camp grade tissue – and sat. When she finished, she was startled to see blood on the tissue. Fear prickled through her like ants crawling all over her body. She looked at her panties and saw a little blood there too. It wasn’t a bright red, but it was blood. She didn’t know what that meant, but it wasn’t good.
She wadded up the rough tissue to make a pad, then pulled up her pants. She went over to the bed and sat, pulling her coat around her. Her lip trembled, and tears prickled her eyes. She tried not to let the fear and desperation consume her. Up till now, the worst had been the complete and utter boredom, but now, it seemed, her baby’s life was endangered.
She didn’t know if it was from the stress, or if it didn’t stand a chance because of her age. The walls began to close in around her.
Getting up, she walked to the door and began kicking it hard and shouting for someone to come up. She kept up the kicking until she heard a voice yell from the other side of the door. She stepped back when she heard a click from the ancient lock.
“What’s all this ruckus about?” Chum said, his breath coming in gasps from the climb up the stairs. His face was florid and mottled with color.
“I think my baby’s in trouble. I’m bleeding,” Kelly said, her voice trembling.
“Nice try, missus, but it won’t work,” Chum said, clearly not believing her.
She went to the bucket and pulled out the bloody tissue. Bringing it over, she shoved it in Chum’s face.
He jerked back as though she’d slapped him in the face, his hands coming up to fend her off. “Good God, Christ, woman! Get that outta my face!” Chum nearly screamed, stepping back and nearly tripping over himself.
Kelly would have laughed at his reaction if she hadn’t been so upset and frightened. She also noticed that when Chum was upset, his accent came through clearly.
“I’m telling you that I’m having problems, there is something very wrong. I need to go home, and I need to go home now,” Kelly said through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing into slits of rage. Her breathing was faster, and she could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. A small voice told her, Calm down, this isn’t good for the baby.
“Missus, you aren’t going anywhere. Your husband knows what he has to do. I’m sure you’re fine. If you’d just given me what I asked for in the first place, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?” Chum ask, gathering his composure.
“You fool. Are you really willing to put me and my baby at risk for goddamn supplies? Are you that stupid? You know you’re asking for a bullet to the head?” Kelly said, her voice rising to a higher octave. She took a deep breath to get herself under control. Her uterus contracted, sending a shaft of fear skittering through her.
“This discussion is over, missus. You stay put. Lie down and rest, and quit making a ruckus. Maybe that will keep you fine,” Chum said, and slammed the door in her face. The lock clicked over.
Kelly walked over to the bed, lay down, and began to weep. She was so afraid and angry, and felt so alone and helpless. That bastard didn’t give a shit about her or anyone else except himself. She hoped Tim would put one right between his piggy eyes.
She dragged the old quilt up and over her, and tried not to think about the baby. But it was impossible. She didn’t know what she would do if she lost the baby. She knew now that she really wanted it. She wanted Tim’s baby. She also knew it would devastate Tim if she lost it. Kelly cried harder, taking her shirt tail to wipe her face and blow her nose.
She didn’t know how long she’d been here at the farm now. She’d lost time while in the windowless room. She thought maybe a week, maybe two. She tried to get the crying under control, as she knew it wouldn’t help. She could still feel the small contractions, and once again small tendrils of fear curled around her heart.
“Please hurry, Tim. Please hurry,” she whispered into the pillow.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
San Gabriel Mountains, California
Larry sat before the fire, warming his hands. It was nearing noon; the group had left several hours before. They were expected back before dark. Charmain was adamant about real time intel. Across the fire from him was Jewel.
Charmain had told him that she and Jack were originally from Alaska. Jack had married a young woman from an Ahtna tribe in southern Alaska. They’d had four children. Jack had brought his family to the lower forty-eight six years ago. Life in Alaska was wild, and difficult, but harder yet was Jack finding work.
It had been a difficult decision, but he’d brought them to California. His wife Ana and her sons had found it difficult in Los Angeles, so Jack had moved them into the mountains. There, they’d built their refuge. Unfortunately, it hadn’t stopped the deadly virus from wiping out most of his family.
Jewel had her father’s gray eyes, but the long dark hair of her Alaskan ancestors. Larry found his eyes going back to her time and again. She’d caught him once, and he’d turned bright red. She’d only smiled mysteriously. He couldn’t seem to help himself.
Hubbard Brown was asleep, said he wanted to conserve his energies. The seventy-year-old’s soft snores matched the crickets’ song perfectly. Donny and Woody had left an hour ago, taking their bows to hunt.
“Waiting is the worst,” Jewel said.
“Yeah, it is,” Larry agreed, and blushed.
He had no clue how to talk to her. He’d have agreed if she’d said the sky was green. He’d been smitten with women before, but there was something almost wild about Jewel. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d caught her looking at him as well, but she had a calculating look in her eyes, and didn’t blush.
Jewel’s gray eyes were looking directly into his eyes, and he felt himself begin to heat up. He squirmed. He watched as her wide lips began to shift into a smile. He goofily grinned back at her.
She was reading a book, and he tilted his head trying to read the title.
“The Hunt for Red October,” Jewel said, smiling, “by Tom Clancy.”
“Oh. I’ve never read his books,” Larry said somewhat lamely.
“You should if you get a chance. I think Charmain may have his books. There’s a lot of good tactical info in them. Really good books.”
“I’ll ask her about it when she gets back, I need all the help I can get,” he said, and grinned.
He was about to get up and sit beside her, maybe suggest they go for a walk, when he heard a branch snap
. His and Jewel’s heads came up simultaneously.
“Don’t move or we will shoot you where you sit,” a deep voice called from the woods.
Larry searched the forest, but he couldn’t see anyone. He saw Hubbard stiffen, but the old man didn’t move.
Three men moved out from the trees, their guns aimed at the three by the fire. Their faces were shadowed by their gear and heavy beards.
“You two by the fire, stand and turn away from us. Old man, turn on your stomach. Make any sudden moves and you get a bullet to the head,” a different voice said. It had the clipped midwestern accent.
Larry and Jewel did as they were told. Someone came up behind him and bound his hands with zip ties. His heart thumped with fear and anger. He should have been keeping watch. It was his fault. He heard two more zip ties, and knew Jewel and Hubbard had been restrained too.
“Turn around,” the first voice ordered.
“What do you want? We don’t have much, but you’re welcome to it,” Larry said.
“We want you and the young lady. Simply said, our group needs young people, and you two fit the bill. You won’t be hurt unless you try to escape or call out,” the man with the Midwest accent said.
Larry looked at Jewel, and saw her face go stony, her mouth a thin line of tamped-down rage. He could kick himself.
“Take me, leave her. Please,” Larry begged.
“Sorry, you both go. Now shut your mouth or you’ll be gagged,” the man said.
“What about him?” Jewel asked, nodding her head toward Hubbard, who lay face down.
“He’ll be fine. I imagine your friends should be back in a bit. We saw them go off hunting, so I think they won’t be gone too long,” the third man said.
Larry wondered how long they’d been there. Had they seen Charmain and the others leave? He hoped they’d come back soon and track them. He’d make sure he left a trail for a blindman to follow.
He felt a shove to his shoulder and began walking. Their personal items and weapons were left behind. Clearly, they didn’t need guns, as each man was loaded down with handguns and rifles. All sported knives, and wore webbed vests with clips of ammo attached.
