* * *
2000 HOURS - ZERO DAY +147
After dinner, Frank hobbled along behind a line of children being led into a side entrance to the bunker just south of the house, the one that looked like some untrimmed bushes. They could blow that hidden tunnel if needed, but in the meantime it avoided telling everyone in the Clan where the bunker actually was. Most Clanners knew anyway by now, but it wouldn’t do for outsiders to watch them go into the main entrance. Sometimes it pays not to advertise.
The kids looked a bit scared, but at the head of the line Grandma Mandy was busy reassuring each child as they entered the tunnel. She made it sound like a camp-out, rather than the emergency procedure it really was. They had reasoned that if invaders attacked and the kids stayed “upstairs,” they’d become targets, distract their parents, and generally get in the way. So the kids got stashed in a large extra room in the underground bunker with a sign on the door declaring it the “Kidz Kastle.” Directly across the tunnel in a room marked “Clinic,” was a well-stocked extended medical treatment space.
It took almost half an hour before the last of the kids headed down into the bunker. Ethan and Amber awaited them there, with Ethan probably hoping the little rug rats wouldn’t get loose in his computer room and comms center.
“Your turn, Grandma Mandy,” said Frank, up above at the tunnel entrance. He no longer felt weird calling her that. It had become her name, for all intents and purposes, among the Clan members. She looked old now, and sickly, so Cassy had decided that her mother would be of best use helping with the kids. She had also decided Frank should go down there, which was irritating. He hadn’t lost his aim just because he lost his foot to Peter, dammit.
Mandy put a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Frank, you’re a good man, and brave, but if the Clan needs to bug off or whatever Michael calls it, they can’t slow down for you. They’d try, though, and people would die. Besides, we need an authority figure down there and Ethan, bless him, isn’t one. He doesn’t know how. You do, though, and the kids can see how much the Clan respects you.”
Frank grimaced. “Yeah, I know. I do believe the reasoning, trust me. Plus, if invaders get into the tunnels somehow, Ethan will need another person who’s a good shot and good with a knife.”
“Definitely. Now get that flat mechanic’s butt of yours down there. I’ll close the lid.”
“Hatch, Grandma Mandy.”
“Whatever. Don’t correct your elders, dear, or I’ll have to think mean thoughts about you.”
Frank, smiling, took one last look around, taking in the fading daylight—the last time he might ever see it, at least for a while—and with a deep breath began the climb down into darkness.
* * *
Cassy walked with Joe Ellings around the guard tower, checking for any needed last-minute fixes. The ‘cage’ at the top, where two guards stood watch, had been reinforced with sandbags and the structure reinforced with a lot of two-by-fours. It no longer had a somewhat rickety look, and the lookouts were much better protected now.
They had just finished testing the air siren, which was connected to a battery kept charged by the homestead’s solar panels. The switch for the siren was mounted in the tower. The wires leading to the horn itself and to its battery power supply were in good shape. Cassy thought someone had scavenged the siren from a fire truck, but the Clanners who brought it back had insisted it was in a junk yard. There were no junk yards around the homestead, so Cassy had just smiled and thanked them.
Joe ran his hand through his thick mane of hair, shoving it out of his eyes. “Yes’m, I reckon we’re solid for the tower. You reckon?”
Cassy smiled at Joe, as she always did when the man spoke. He was charming, laid back, easygoing, and had the thickest, most ridiculous cowboy accent ever, but somehow on him it just added to his charm. “I reckon so,” Cassy said, and Joe didn’t seem to notice the good-humored imitation. “You’ve done a good job with this, you and Dean. Traps are set, and mapped so we can get around them when this is over. For now, no one leaves the living areas without a guard escort and they all know where the traps are. I guess that’s as safe as we can make them, all things considered.”
“Yes’m, we’re on top of that. Made sure all our people know about them traps, and told ’em to stay put.”
Cassy walked toward the nearby outdoor kitchen—where the community meals were cooked and served—and she welcomed the warmth that radiated from the ground. Ducts led from the rocket stove exhaust down into branching, turning, buried tubes and then out an exhaust pipe for a chimney. The stoves thus heated the ground, making it the most comfortable outdoor place on the homestead in winter. In warm weather, they could bypass the tubes.
“Care for some cider? I’m parched,” Cassy said with a grin.
“I don’t suppose we got some of that hard cider, eh?”
“Not right now, we don’t. Everyone’s sober.”
“Well dang, Cassy. You make it sound like a fellow can’t hold his liquor. Takes more than a cup o’ fancy wine to get me drunk.” Joe laughed, but reached for the regular cider.
Of course he knew better than to use alcohol while under attack. He was only pulling her chain. Cassy knew it and didn’t think she had ever seen the man drunk, come to think of it. “Is everyone in place, Joe? We can’t have any slip-ups. I know it’s rough, being on lockdown with double shifts on guard, but with the Marines guarding our biggest entry points we didn’t have much choice. At least we’ll have plenty of notice if trouble comes around.”
Joe took a sip of his cider and leaned back on the bench with his back against the table, elbows resting on top. “Trouble’s always coming, Cassy. I reckon we’re as ready as we can be. I’m hopin’ that any of them invaders that sees us decides there’s easier targets. We got local rumor on our side, too, making us out to be some sorta legends, and the woods make us look all dark and mysterious.”
“Ominous, even,” Cassy replied with a hollow voice, then smiled and sipped at her cider. “But on the other hand, we stock up stuff like this cider, attracting them. I’m not counting on them being too afraid to attack us. We only have about seventy people who can fight, and the rest are kids or disabled like Frank.”
“Don’t try to pass that off, Cassy,” Joe said. He wore a smile, but it didn’t show in his eyes. “My brother’s got that bum leg of his when Peter had him hung upside down by it. He’s out here with us anyway, doin’ his duty.”
“Joe, don’t start on that, please. I guess I can tell you this, and you deserve to know. Frank’s not down in the bunker because of his foot. That’s just what I told him to get his stubborn ass down there. The truth is, I wanted a good fighter down there protecting the kids. My kids, and everyone else’s. Your brother could’ve done that, but the kids already know and trust Frank.”
Joe looked up into the sky and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly, then said, “Yes’m, I figure that makes a sort of sense. Sorry about that. Forgive me?”
“Nothing to forgive, my friend.” Cassy put her hand on his shoulder. “We’re all worried about the ones we love. There’s no place safe, not anymore, and we worry. But I promise you that every decision I make is for the good of the Clan, as best I’m able. We’re family now. We have to be, just to survive. Some day, America will rise again. It’s too big and fine an idea to just die out. Until then, we’ll have to make tough choices every day and pray it works out.”
Joe nodded, and Cassy took her hand off his shoulder to reach for her cup of cider again. Then Joe said, “Speaking of tough choices, have we heard from Choony and Jaz? They’ve been out a mite longer than I expected.”
“Actually, yes. They’re disobeying my orders as we speak, heading back to Clanholme from some survivor group we made first contact with. It was unscheduled. The last we heard, they dropped their big portable off at another group we’re negotiating with, for safekeeping, and they’re on their way back. I’m worried about them. Two people on their o
wn with all those soldiers running around… I don’t like it.”
Joe laughed, a real laugh that reached his belly, and Cassy raised her eyebrow at him, questioning. “That there is why I never figured on asking Jaz out. Never mind that she’s into Choony, not that the poor bastard knows it. Heck, she might not know it herself. But the main thing is just that she’s batshit crazy. A damn good woman, sure, but I like company that ain’t so far off-kilter.”
Cassy laughed, and they talked about smaller things for a while, then set out to make the rounds again, checking on their people at the guard posts.
* * *
0400 HOURS - ZERO DAY +148
After leaving through a hidden door and passageway through Lebanon’s rubble wall, Jaz and Choony headed back south in the predawn hours. While the journey to Cornwall was only about five-and-a-half miles as the crow flies, they would have to take a circuitous route to avoid the roads. They also had to sidestep South Hills Park and the forest adjacent to it—they had been advised that it was infested with small groups of invader troops, and Jaz and Choony were lucky to have made it to Lebanon without encountering them. It would be best not to tempt Karma by going through there again on the return trip.
In fact, Choony thought the whole idea was terrible. They had received instructions to hold up in Lebanon, and if Ethan’s intel suggested it was too dangerous to travel, then it probably was. “Last chance to stop, Jaz. We can still go back. I remind you that we do the Clan no good if we die or get captured before we reach home.”
Jaz grunted, and was silent for a moment. Clip-clop, the muffled sound of horse hooves on dirt. Choony was about to repeat his comment, in case she hadn’t heard, when she said, “Choony, I know it’s dangerous, but I didn’t take you for one who was afraid of dying.”
Choony didn’t like the edge in her voice, the clear judgment. In his mind, he knew he must simply let that go. Taking offense only upset his harmony, and replying in anger would only upset Jaz’s further. It was odd that he cared so much about what Jaz thought, but he reconciled it by telling himself he valued her friendship. It was easy enough to believe, even, because it was also true. In a way. He was pretty sure that was all.
“I am not afraid of dying,” he replied, keeping his voice calm and carefully nonchalant. “Death comes to all, and in the great cycle of life I am confident I won’t be reincarnated into a lesser life than this one. But I’m also not eager to die needlessly, nor should you be. One more rifle won’t make the difference if our home is invaded. You would be impossible to replace, and I feel responsible to keep you safe if I can.”
Jaz sighed. “I know, Choony, but I could never live with myself if my Clan-family got killed or conquered while I waited it out in safety. No one has ever treated me like the Clan does, and I won’t pay that back by being totally selfish.”
“Very well, then. I get it, but I hope you know that I come with you because I care less for my own life than for yours or the Clan’s.”
“Maybe you don’t care about your own life less than mine, Choony,” Jaz snapped back, “but you’d put my life ahead of anyone else’s, too. Even the Clan’s.” The words dripped with her harsh judgment and Choony jerked, as if she had slapped him.
Then Choony felt his rising anger flow away. Jaz’s words were based on a misunderstanding. Why would it bother her if he would put her life ahead of the Clan’s? She likely just wanted to hear him confirm it—to allay her fears that he would run, perhaps—but he wouldn’t lie. Not to her or to anyone. No good came of lying.
“That’s not so, Jaz. I’d place Cassy’s life ahead of yours, for example. She is more necessary to the Clan than either of us, despite your very real value to us all, and the Clan keeps us all alive. In that way, helping Cassy would be the same as helping the Clan, and the same as helping myself and you and everyone I care about. Things are what they are, so please don’t be offended that I’d put Cassy before you, but I don’t want you holding a resentment about a false assumption. There’s no need to upset your harmony.”
Jaz growled—literally growled—at him. Choony decided that, since he didn’t understand how he had made it worse, the best course was to simply accept the situation instead of resisting it. He was content to let the silence lay over them as they rode.
They kept to the low points, following the terrain on contour rather than the most direct route possible, in order to minimize their exposure. In this terrain, a sniper would have a field day. Then, in the distance, Choony spotted movement and checked through his binoculars. It was just regular people. Not invaders, at least not this time.
Following natural contours rather than moving in a straight line put them only halfway to the Falconry by the time the horizon began to grow lighter. This was unfortunate—he had hoped they would make it to the settlement by dawn so they could spend some of the daylight hours going through the woods south of Falconry, heading to Brickerville, but they couldn’t make it. Nor did he want to set camp to wait for dusk, not out there in the open. “We’ll have to risk—”
“Yep.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say,” Choony said, bemused. He kept his voice light though, so Jaz wouldn’t think he was snapping at her, or that he found her amusing. It wouldn’t help anything to upset her.
Jaz let out a long, loud breath. Choony could practically see her eyes rolling, even through the back of her head. She finished huffing and said, “You were going to say we have to make the forest before we camp, even if it means moving out here during daylight. I know, Choony.”
At least she didn’t sound angry, but rather, sort of empty—flat and lifeless. “Yes, unless you have a different point of view?” He raised his voice at the end, making it into a clear question.
“No, that’s fine. I don’t want to spend all day out in the open either. Listen, I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’ve been thinking about it, and about us—”
“Shh!” Choony hissed at her. Ahead, as they came around the side of a low hill, there were five riders traveling in a long row, winding northward through the low-lying areas just as he and Jaz were. He whispered, “People ahead.”
Jaz reined her horse to a halt and looked through her binoculars. Hers were smaller than Choony’s field glasses, but at this shorter range she could probably see well enough. “Yeah, there’s like, five of them with AK-style rifles. They’re not in black, though. Woodland cammies. They’re headed our way.”
Choony took a second to calm his mind. Things were what they were. Don’t resist, but adjust. “Have they seen us?”
Jaz paused to look through her binoculars again. “I don’t think so. They’re moving slowly, still all in a row.”
That was good news. He doubted Jaz could fight them off by herself. But if she was going to make it through this alive, they would have to move quickly. “Okay, to the east,” Choony said as he wheeled his horse to the left.
He put spurs to his horse, and they rode as fast as their horses would take them, following the contours between the gently rolling hills, staying in the gap. Their path soon meandered to the northeast. At the next opportunity, they followed a gap into a more direct easterly direction. Soon, Choony was half-mesmerized by the rhythmic thudding of hooves, and he found himself in an almost meditative state.
The next mile went by in a blur, and once the back of his mind decided they were likely far enough east to avoid the five mounted people, he came out of his state—feeling refreshed and alert, marveling once again at how one could be meditating and stay almost hyper-aware of their surroundings.
A copse of trees lay ahead, and they made a beeline for it. Only once past the tree line did he pull out his binoculars again, and in a few seconds he found the other group. Thankfully, they hadn’t apparently noticed him or Jaz, and at the moment they were continuing their path northward. “Seems like we made it. We had best stay here a bit, to make sure they aren’t circling around, but I think we’re clear of them.”
Jaz dismounted and took out
her water bottle. After a long sip, she finally looked at Choony. “I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know why I got so angry.”
Choony smiled and nodded, then got his own water bottle. He sat close to Jaz, but not directly next to her. Best to respect her space until he was sure Jaz was over it. He was content to simply sit with her in a comfortable silence.
After a minute, Jaz turned her head to look at Choony. When he looked back, she said, “I have sort of a question for you.”
“Is it sort of a question? I may have a sort of answer.” Choony grinned and waggled his eyebrows like an Asian Groucho Marx, and Jaz smiled back. Maybe a little awkwardly, but Choony was glad to see her reaction was positive. For some reason he felt nervous.
“You sometimes mention reincarnation, like coming back as a cockroach or something. Or as a rich person. Do you really believe in that stuff? Buddhists, I mean.”
Choony thought about the question for a moment. It was a difficult one to answer, because the answer was only “sort of” yes. And sort of no. “Not exactly. I know that most people think that’s what we believe, so I joke about it, or use it for emphasis. Sometimes I even think it when I’m zoned out, but maybe it’s more of an allegory than a literal truth.”
He looked into her eyes to see if Jaz understood what he had said and she didn’t look confused, just open minded, so he continued. “The reality is that most Buddhists believe we are different people from moment to moment. You are only you in this exact moment—you’ll never be precisely there again. Part of the wonder is that moments are too short of measure. Karma is the totality of your words, thoughts, and actions through all your moments. Good Karma in this moment allows you to be reborn in a more positive energy in the next moment. There are several stages of human development ranging from simple beast to Buddha himself.”
Dark New World (Book 4): EMP Backdraft Page 13
