by M. C. Allen
“Are you friends of Sam’s?”
My expression must have given my thoughts away. “Yes, we are. Are they doing okay? I need to get closer to radio that we are coming with a group of friends.”
“How many people do you have in your group, sir?” Officer Derring glanced back down the two-lane road.
“At last count, we had around fifty souls. We are taking our time, so expect us back here in around a week.”
Officer Derring got on his radio and called back to the checkpoint. “We have friends of the Messner family coming through.” He waited for a response from the radio. The voice sounded calm on the tiny microphone. “Does Sam know they’re coming?”
“No sir. They are moving up to contact them on the radio.”
I didn’t hear the response, but Officer Derring stepped back and waved us on through.
Dale spoke from the rear seat. “What just happened, Mr. M.?”
“I think we are getting close to our friends, and the local authorities know them. That’s good news.”
We rolled down the road until we reached the “town” of Ripley. I pulled over and stepped out with a handheld radio. I set it to the correct frequency and started calling.
“This is David Metcalf calling for Sam Messner.” I repeated the message on the same channel. Sam had told me to use channel nineteen on the citizen band when I was close enough, and someone would be monitoring it. Sam had planned things out years ago, and he only shared those plans with people he trusted. I got a response. It was weak at first, so I asked for the caller to repeat their last transmission.
“Who are you and what do you want?” It didn’t sound like Sam, but he would most likely have several former Marines there helping out.
“Tell Sam that David Metcalf is sitting in Ripley. I would have been here months ago, but traffic was terrible.”
The voice over the radio said, “Wait one, sir.”
It took a while to get Sam on the radio, but his voice was familiar, if strained. I let out an involuntary sigh of relief at hearing from my old friend.
“David, where have you been?”
“Kate didn’t make it Sam. I lost her the first day of the pulse. A plane took out her hospital. I stayed to find her and didn’t follow my plan.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, David. We have had some troubles here as well.”
“I don’t want to impose, but I have some friends, food, weapons, and gifts for our host. I’ve kept OPSEC, so only a few know where you are.”
I heard a laugh over the microphone. “How many strays are with you?”
“They are about a week behind us. The baggage train is going slow with our salvage operations, but so far it has paid off with future beans.” Sam would figure out I meant seed to harvest, but I wanted to keep it off the air.
“Understood, David. Are you coming in today?”
“No sir, I’m going back to lead them in right now. Expect some friendly faces and small hands in about a week.”
“Will do. See you in about a week. Let us know when you get close again.”
“Yes sir. I’ll let the deputies back at the checkpoint know we will be back.”
With nothing else to report, I turned and returned to the driver’s seat. I completed a three-point turn in the middle of the road and headed back out of Ripley. We passed the checkpoint again, and I stopped to let Deputy Derring know we were coming back, and we had indeed made contact with the Messner ranch.
The roads to Ripley would take time. We needed to continue the charade that Ft. Polk was our destination, but as soon as we turned the convoy north, we would turn off all of our radios and go silent. This trip was to ensure that we really had a place to go.
I would like to see Sam Messner again. His family had survived this, and I hoped we would be able to help out. If not, we could just set up nearby and offer support and mutual aid.
We made it back to the convoy and spread the good news to the rest of the herd. We settled down to rest after a long day. I was nervous about how we would fit in with the group at the Messner’s, but if nothing else, the kids could have some type of safety for a while.
EPILOGUE
The town of Ripley was still a mess a week later. The road to this point had been littered with decomposing bodies along the ditches. Once we were past the first checkpoint being operated by the sheriff’s department, I noted that abandoned vehicles had been pushed aside by someone to clear a path. Bodies no longer dotted the road either. That was a sign that someone was trying to take charge. I hoped it was someone good, and not a feudal lord systematically draining the area dry. I had avoided killing anyone since we had that massive ambush set up. That was weeks ago.
We stopped and investigated all vehicles along the sides. When we found fuel still in the tanks, we drained them into cans and refilled our trucks. This process had all of our trucks topped off constantly. Any excess diesel was added to the three tractors on the trailers until they were topped off. We were getting to the point that we didn’t have room for more fuel. That was a good problem to have. The oil refineries would take months of intensive repairs to get back to making gasoline and diesel.
I got out of the Hummer and took over the wheel of my grandfather’s truck. This was something that the Messners might recognize from my past visits to hunt hogs. The paint was different, but I was going to try to make my appearance as friendly as possible. The Hummer with Kofi on the .50 would be overkill for the first time we met since the pulse.
I was going alone. I drew a map for Joseph and explained exactly how to get to the farm. I also described the members of the Messner family in details that were probably off. I told him to just imagine everyone as older and skinnier.
“Kofi, Joseph is in charge for now. If this is bad, then you get to kill everyone on that farm. Deal?” They were not happy with me leaving them yet again to brave the unknown. Alex sulked and Regina looked near tears. Damn, I hated doing this to them. Dale smiled and nodded.
“Are these good people?”
“The last time I saw them, they offered me a place to stay if things in the city ever got bad. I hope I’m not putting them out with bringing a small town with me.”
Lisa came up from her truck to see me off. She was not still upset with me about the secrecy, but like the kids, she didn’t like the plan either.
“Do you need me to come as backup? I’m not that important in case something goes wrong.”
That was sad for her to say. “Hey, just because I’m not sleeping with you doesn’t mean that you’re not important to me. When we get settled, we will definitely talk.” That got a smile from Regina, and Alex patted Lisa in the arm with a rare grin. Dale had to ruin the moment.
“Hey, get a room, you two! Do we need to get one of the trailers unloaded so you two can have some alone time.”
Lisa was blushing at that. I felt my own face start to burn with embarrassment. We had done nothing more than hold hands at dinner last night. That was the extent of our public displays of affection. Tammy was still lurking around, waiting for me to screw it up so she could pounce on me like a cat with a catnip-infused mouse toy.
“Enough, children. I’m heading out. I’ll start broadcasting on the radio when I get closer. You may be able to listen in, but the range will only be a few miles.” Joseph shook my hand and wished me luck. If this was a bust, we could survive. It would just be easier to have friends to lean on.
I switched on the radio and started calling out once I left the convoy, the reliable old Ford humming along. “This is David with his party animals. Anyone got their ears on, good buddy?”
“Now, what kind of proper military radio procedure would you call that, Private Metcalf?” Sam had his best drill sergeant voice booming over the airwaves.
“Well, you see sir, us Army doggies don’t know about no fancy radio talk.” I felt myself relax with the banter. We had done that a lot at shooting matches and social gatherings. We had to keep the Army and Marine service r
ivalries alive in this post-pulse era.
“You close, David?”
“I’ll be at your gate in ten minutes. I’m coming in alone.”
“Good man,” Sam replied.
I still didn’t know what was coming, but my only hope was a place for my children to live and thrive. If I needed to kill, I would do it without reservation or pause. Please let this be safe.
I rolled up to the gate and noticed the battle damage. Yup, trouble had come here too. Sam was casually leaning against the steel gate waiting for me.
I got out and walked over to shake his hand. Sam smiled at me sadly.
“Took you long enough.”
“Yeah, no shit. So what did I miss?”
The End
AFTERWARD
If you liked Firestorm – Walking in the Rain Book 5, leave me a review on Amazon.com. Since this is my first novel, I expect to receive some criticisms and comments, but please be honest. Who am I kidding? I teach teenagers so I’m used to being maligned and denigrated. I have a thick skin.
How did this story get started? I work at a school that is in the “traffic pattern” of the massive Dallas-Ft. Worth International Airport. At any given time, I can walk out and count multiple airliners circling around to land for a southern approach. What if the coronal mass ejection hit with all of those planes overhead? Who would be able to stop the fires and help the injured? Then William Allen mentioned what happened at the OKC airport, and I got a chill. What would happen to my students? Few of them were prepared for what might happen when chaos rules. I said when, not if.
I’m not a conspiracy theorists, but imagine any major national disaster and how our beloved government is always late in providing assistance. Now imagine that the disaster is something that causes a world-wide disruption. Around you are people who will stand up to help others. There is also a group that will lose their freaking minds and start looting and killing within days of losing good order. Don’t believe it? Why do police have to patrol neighborhoods when there is an evacuation? To stop people from stealing from vacant houses.
This story was born from extreme boredom. Teachers are forced to attend “trainings” during the summer. I call them beatings instead of meetings. I attended a required training that offered me nothing to help me be a better educator. In my notebook where I keep copious notes, I started writing Firestorm at the scene where David’s family met Joseph’s group. As soon as I got home, I typed it up and kept going. I sent William the first fifteen chapters to and asked his advice. Thanks brother!
Now let’s get a few things settled about the story. I refer to a civilian M1a as an M14 for most of the story. For the record, Fulton Armory builds a wonderful M-14 variant that even has a non-functional selector switch to full automatic operation. No, I don’t own a fully automatic battle rifle so calm down. The reason David carries it in the first place, is due to the kids using his AR-15’s. Remember that part? Also, before you think, “how can a teacher afford all of these guns with their salary?” It has taken years of careful purchases when prices were low, and taking a second job at an outdoor store to feed my hobby.
Next, I’m not going to give people the recipe to make their own bombs. I purposely left that information out or I was vague enough to thwart any basement chemists. Yes, we discussed using field expedient explosives in the Army back in the day. On our trip to Desert Shield/Desert Storm our unit loaded up a large quantity of fertilizer. I don’t recall us being farmers at the time.
Silencers are not completely silent. We also call them suppressors not silencers. Ammunition that is extra quiet can also be unreliable and underpowered, so to make sure a .22 is really quiet when you shoot it with a suppressor you need to be close to your target. Two to three inches is optimal for the reduction of the sound from the sonic crack. I’ve tested this. Subsonic ammunition will not penetrate the skull even from that distance. Again, I tested it out.
So, what’s next for me? I’m currently working on my second novel, but it will not be about David and Luke. Next summer, when I’m done with graduate school and off from teaching kids, I plan on telling the story of David trying to hold the neighborhood together and the arrival of the kids. I glossed over that part of the story in Firestorm.
My next novel will address my current audience…young adults. I really do teach junior high kids, and I felt that I needed to do something more age appropriate for them. You will notice that Firestorm is relatively free of really profane language. Just insert the F-bomb where you think it belongs. I wanted to try to write an entire novel without using that particular word so if little hands got a copy of my work, they would only be exposed to cannibalism, torture, and the execution of prisoners. See? I’m doing it for the children.
The working title of my next book is The Sacrifice Tree, and I expect several books in this series. The main character is an eleven year old girl who discovers something about herself that her family kept hidden from her. Yes, I’m writing about a young girl for my next novel. Imagine someone as cute as Regina, but without the skills taught to her by a nutjob like David. Crap, why do I do this to myself. Here is a little peek from The Sacrifice Tree.
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Prologue
I wasn’t even a teenager the first time I fell through a dimensional portal. I literally fell through it! Of course at the time, I didn’t realize what happened until the chanting men in black robes rushed me. I made it back through the tree before they could reach me. Yes, through a tree. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
I’m Juliet. It’s my real name, and don’t worry, there is no Romeo involved in this just yet. At least I don’t think so. He may have other things in mind besides just friendship and support.
Anyway, it started in my back yard. Sofi, our yellow lab, was murdering squirrels and placing them at the base of the “Old Man” on our property. “Old Man” was a live oak tree that dad said was over three hundred years old. Why kill those poor squirrels? Sofi told me that they were sacrifices. Yep. She told me.
CHAPTER
ONE
“Supper will be ready in about ten minutes, you need to come get cleaned up!” Mom called out from the kitchen window.
“I’ll be in soon Mom, Sofi is acting like a nut! I’m going to play with her, and see if I can calm her down!” I replied.
“Fine, but get washed up first. You don’t need to bring half the yard in the house.” Mom pulled the window closed to keep the bugs out.
Sofi was agitated, and she chased multiple squirrels all over the property. I hoped she didn’t catch one since the last encounter had led to a visit to the vet to clean up her lip. The sight of the yellow lab twirling in place with a ferocious squirrel latched onto her mouth was horrifying and hilarious at the same time. Sofi may have won that confrontation, but my parents had to pay a hefty vet bill for her stitches and antibiotic. At least her rabies shots were up to date at the time.
I watched her scramble around the base of the ancient live oak that dominated the property and inhibited the growth of any underbrush or grass. It measured over twenty feet around the base, and people came over to check it every year from the university in Baton Rouge. That tree was really old. Some claimed it was older than the United States, but there was no way it could be. Dad said that when his family first bought the land, the tree had been a “mere sapling” according to local lore. Grandmother LaRue, she refused to be called “Grandma,” said that the tree belonged to another time. I think she meant before the Civil War, but she said it in a way that made me think the tree was way older than we expected. I discovered that it was an excellent tree for climbing, but mom and dad made me stop when I got older. They were afraid I was going to hurt the tree. I still snuck in a climb sometimes after school and before they got home from work.
Sofi had one! Oh, that poor squirrel. Why did she do that? That dog had a mean streak when it came to small animals in “her yard.” She shook it until it stopped moving and brought the broke
n body to the tree.
“Girl, why do you always do that? That poor squirrel didn’t do anything to you.” I got my gardening gloves and prepared to bury another corpse. We left a shovel back here just to deal with the rapid decline of the population of fur-bearing creatures. Dad said that he used to be able to hunt rabbits in his own yard, but Sofi had reduced their numbers to the point where they were hard to find. She really wasn’t a bad dog, but she had her own peculiar traits.
She had been our dog for only two years now. A tornado blew through our property one spring day while I was at school, and when I came home Sofi stood in the yard staring at me. Mom and Dad agreed to keep her since she lacked tags or microchips, but if someone claimed her we would have to give her up. Right now, I’m not too sure her real owners had just abandoned her for killing small furry animals. She also made a horrible guard dog. Sofi never barked, and she never responded to commands like “sit, roll over, or speak.” We tried to teach her, but she didn’t follow any commands except for one: “Supper’s ready!”
“Step back girl, I’ve got this one,” I admonished the crazy canine. We need to start a little cemetery before I start digging up partially decomposing carrion. At least put up a small marker with each little funeral.
Sofi nudged the back of my legs with her flank as I reached for the tiny torn body. Sofi jumped up on her hind legs and pushed me with her front paws. I lost my balance and fell against the tree.
“Dang it! Sofi, back off! I’m going to feed you in a second if you will just calm the heck down.” I rubbed the fur around her neck and scratched behind her ears. She normally loved it when we did that, but right now she had an urgent look in her eyes. She was shaking and moving her feet around in agitation.
“What’s wrong girl? Do you see another squirrel?” I looked up into the tree, but that wasn’t what had Sofi’s attention. He was staring at the massive trunk of the tree directly behind me. I whirled around expecting to see a furry creature scurrying for its life, but the bark was just…there. Nothing to see but tree. I sighed and tried to pick up the mangled carcass again. When I picked it up with a gloved hand, I was hit by Sofi again. Hard.
