“Great. Well, your cousins can attest to Nana’s skill with a shotgun, and so can I.”
Emily sighed. “I wish there were more Marines.”
“Nana’s like three Marines combined,” he said, and they laughed.
“Watch where you’re going with that,” said his mom, Amy Fletcher.
“We’ll have more Marines here in a few days,” he said and kissed Emily again. “Love you.”
“Love you, too, Daddy.”
“Love you, guys.”
“Love you, Uncle Alex,” Kevin and Ethan mumbled.
“Things will get back to normal. I promise,” Alex said and stepped away.
Samantha Walker and her three children appeared in the doorway.
“See? The basement’s filling up fast,” he said and walked over to the door to greet her. “We have a bunch of camping mattresses for the kids. Blankets, sleeping bags, non-shot-up pillows—a couple of overprotective grandparents. I think the kids will be fine down here.”
“Perfect. Thank you,” said Samantha, stepping through the door with her family.
“I only charge ten dollars an hour,” said Alex’s mom.
“I brought a nineteen-year-old. Do I get a discount?”
“Can she use a shotgun?”
“Not yet,” said Chloe.
“Seven dollars.”
“Deal,” said Samantha.
“They can take whatever makes them comfortable,” Alex offered. “I don’t think we’ll be spending much time down here tonight.”
“Probably not,” Samantha said, leading her kids into the candlelit room.
“Abby, thanks for hooking up my laptop to the video receivers. From what I understand, you’re running the tech show around here.”
“Pretty much,” said Samantha’s daughter.
“She was the only one that could read your writing,” said Amy.
“Funny, Mom. I’ll see you upstairs in a few.”
Alex walked over to the bulkhead and flashed his light at the metal doors, confirming that they were latched to the ringbolts imbedded in the basement floor. No matter how hard anyone tried, the doors would not swing open unless he detached the thick metal retaining rods from the bolts. Satisfied that the basement was secure, he walked upstairs into the kitchen, which was lit by a combination of candles and green chemlights donated by the Marines. Staff Sergeant Evans sat at the kitchen island, scrolling through the ruggedized tablet he had removed from the Matvee. His face glowed from the soft red screen.
“Are the Marines settled in for the night?”
“Yes, sir. I have the vehicles positioned to give 360-degree coverage, two Marines in each vehicle. We set up an LP/OP at the entrance to Gelder Pond Lane. I had them move into position after dark. They have clear lines of sight down the eastern side of the road in front of your property and the road leading to the western side. Ideally, we’d have another along the pond, but I’m the only one left. I’ll be on the thirty-cal up in the master bedroom. I can cover nearly 270 degrees around the house from that room.”
“Perfect. I’ll come by around zero-two-hundred to give you a break.”
“I should be fine, sir.”
“When’s the last time you caught any meaningful sleep?”
“It’s been a while,” Evans admitted.
“I’ll at least bring you and your Marines some coffee.”
“Sounds like a fair deal.”
“Thank you, Staff Sergeant. This means a lot to me, my family—all of us,” said Alex.
“I’m just glad we can help out while we’re here. I’d want someone doing that for me,” said Evans.
“Anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask. I know you guys are temporarily assigned under my command, but I consider this to be a personal favor that you’re doing—”
Evans started to protest.
“Nope. I don’t want to hear any arguments to the contrary. My house is your house. Seriously.”
“Well, I don’t—”
“Staff Sergeant?” Alex said, shaking his head. “You need something, you ask, or send someone who doesn’t mind asking.”
“Thank you, sir. I was going to say, that between your mother and your wife, we haven’t had to ask. They’ve been really generous. Very much appreciated.”
“Good, then I’ll expect you to catch up on some sleep tonight,” said Alex, patting him on the back.
“I wouldn’t go that far, sir.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’ll get out of your way,” said Evans, grabbing his tablet and rifle.
“Good night, Staff Sergeant.”
“Night, sir.”
Alex walked into the great room, searching for a seat. Unsurprisingly, half of the group appeared to be asleep. Breathing deeply, Ed Walker lay on an air mattress pushed under the windows to the right. He was turned on one side; his bandaged hip off the mattress. Linda and Charlie sat side by side on the leather couch, with their bandaged legs resting on small pillows on the coffee table. The soft, flickering glow of candlelight from one of the end tables exposed Charlie’s gaping mouth, though his buzz-saw-like snoring left little doubt about his status. Linda hit her husband’s shoulder.
“What? What happened?” he said, jolted out of a shallow sleep.
“I just figured out why we got kicked out of the basement,” said Linda.
“What do you mean?” asked Charlie.
“You sound like a foghorn.”
“It’s not that bad,” he countered.
“It’s pretty bad, my friend,” Alex said. “I’m starting to wonder how we still have the Jeep.”
“He probably scared everyone away,” added Ed.
“I used those nose strips,” said Charlie.
“I hope you stocked up, for Linda’s sake,” said Kate.
She sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the bullet-peppered wall to the left. She was partially concealed in the shadow cast by the La-Z-Boy occupied by his father. In the dim light, the room almost looked normal, except for the numerous dark splotches in the drywall and the various rifles leaned against the furniture or walls. Alex unslung his rifle and hung it on the wood-burning stove, taking a seat in one of the folding chairs set up around the coffee table.
“Sam should be right up,” said Alex. “She was getting the kids settled.”
“What about Ryan? He’s been up in his perch long enough,” said Kate.
“I’ll have a talk with him. I don’t think Emily will fall asleep without him in the basement.”
“I’d sleep better knowing he was upstairs,” said Ed. “He saved our skins yesterday.”
“I wonder where he gets that from?” said Linda.
“Runs in the family,” said Kate. “Alex’s dad served two tours in Vietnam as a Marine lieutenant.”
“I didn’t know your dad was in ’Nam. You should have said something, Alex,” said Charlie.
“He’s pretty much read every book and watched every documentary on the Vietnam War—twice,” said Linda.
“More than that,” added Charlie.
“Dad clams up pretty quick when the subject is brought up, except around his Marine Corps buddies,” said Alex.
“That seems to run in the family too,” commented Kate.
“Charlie, we can talk history anytime. Did Alex tell you about this rifle?” said Tim Fletcher, lifting his rifle off the floor and setting it in front of the lounger.
“Now he’s mister talkative,” said Alex.
“That’s not from Vietnam, is it?” asked Charlie.
“Damn right it is. I used this as a military advisor. Tracked it down by serial number when they switched over to those plastic guns.”
“He got a congressman involved,” said Alex.
“He was a TBS classmate,” said Tim.
Charlie twisted on the couch, trying to get a better look at the rifle. He grimaced in pain when his foot shifted on the pillow and slid to the surface of the table.
“I got it,” said
Alex, lifting the bandaged leg high enough to replace the pillow. “How are you feeling?”
“A deep, throbbing pain has replaced the holy shit agony I was feeling most of yesterday. The pain pills help.”
Alex examined Linda’s foot. The hospital had provided a large, easily removable splint, which enclosed the bandages covering her ankle.
“What about you, Mrs. Rambo?” asked Alex.
“I’m still at the holy fuck level most of the time,” she said.
“Me too,” said Ed.
“You guys taking your pain meds?”
“No,” said Linda. “They give me a headache.”
“I’ll take them off your hands,” said Ed.
“Probably not a great idea right now,” said Alex. “Let’s talk it over with Corporal Allen when he makes his rounds. He has some stronger stuff, if necessary. If you can’t sleep, let me know, and we’ll get you something.”
“I won’t have any trouble sleeping,” said Ed, “as long as I’m not in the same room as Foghorn Leghorn.”
“Can I get a separate room?” said Linda.
“Everybody’s ganging up on me again,” Charlie whined.
The basement door slid open, revealing Samantha Walker and Amy Fletcher. Alex’s mom carried the shotgun in the crook of her elbow.
“We good for a few minutes?” asked Alex.
“I think so. I told them we’d be at the top of the stairs,” said Samantha, sitting on the single step leading into the great room.
Alex’s mother joined her, leaning the shotgun against the half wall separating the kitchen from the sunken great room. “First things first. We made it,” said Alex, pausing to let the words sink in. “We’re all here, more or less in one piece. The kids are fine. Given the curveball we were thrown, I’d say we’ve done pretty damn well as a team.”
“I’ll second that,” said Charlie, followed by hushed agreement from everyone.
“With that said, we still have a long way to go.”
“I can’t imagine it getting any worse,” said Ed.
“Jesus. What the hell else could they throw at us? They left twenty-nine bodies behind,” said Samantha.
“I’m more concerned with the bigger picture. I have a few things I want to share with you. Information I’ve gathered over the past forty-eight hours. When you add it to the HAM radio broadcasts, we—”
“The bigger picture doesn’t have everyone hiding in the basement,” Kate cut in. “What’s going on with the group that attacked us?”
“The leader has disappeared for now. I spoke with members of the York County Readiness Brigade and—”
“Another militia group? Screw that. I don’t want to see any of those people around here,” said Samantha.
“I’m not bringing them here. I thought they might be able to shed some light on this Russell character. Apparently, they forgot to mention him during both of my interviews a few years ago.”
“How convenient,” Samantha said. “I wouldn’t trust them.”
“I’m not trusting anybody outside of our group.”
“What about Colonel Grady?” whispered Tim Fletcher.
“I trust his Marines. I’ll let them take care of Mr. Russell and whatever’s left of his crew when we find them. Right now, I feel pretty good about our security situation.”
“Until Grady pulls them away,” said Ed.
“He’s bought off on using our property as a rapid-response, forward operating base. We’ll have double the number of Marines here within a week. They’ll either set up a tent for their headquarters or use the barn. Either way, they’ll have to leave Marines behind to guard the headquarters—and us.”
“That’s good news,” said his dad.
“It is…” Alex said, hesitating.
He wasn’t sure how much of the big-picture doom-and-gloom scenario he should share with the group. Several situations ran through his head, many of which resulted in abandoning the compound before the weather turned. All would require serious planning and consideration.
“What’s the bad news?” Charlie prompted.
“The bad news is that we have to plan for the possibility of leaving this house,” said Alex.
“Because of the militia?” asked his mom.
“That’s one scenario, but not the most likely. I’m more concerned with the refugee situation. I just can’t see how it will work, even with several thousand soldiers in place to guard the borders and patrol the camps. If the broadcasts we’ve been hearing over the HAM radio are true, word will spread, and the rest of the Boston area will empty. Nobody will want to be near a big city with a possible nuclear escalation on the table. There’s no way in hell FEMA can take care of a million-plus people. Winter will make it worse.”
“We’re off the beaten path out here. I would think most of the people would make their way to the 95 corridor. There’s nothing out here.”
“I would tend to agree with that, but if the situation deteriorates, the Recovery Zone border will shift north, taking everything with it.”
“Including you,” stated Kate bitterly.
“It’s a Catch-22. We definitely need the Marines here until the Maine Liberty Militia has been neutralized.”
“Which hopefully won’t be very long,” said Linda.
“Currently, they’re the biggest internal threat to stability within the Recovery Zone. I don’t see an issue convincing Grady to allocate considerable resources to solving the problem.”
“Then we won’t need the Marines forever, though they’re welcome to stay, even if you’re not part of the battalion,” said Kate.
“Yes…and no. If the Recovery Zone border is moved north, everyone south of the border suddenly joins the refugee population,” said Alex.
“What does that mean, exactly?” Ed asked cautiously.
“It means that without this golden ticket,” he said, holding up his ID card, “we might not be allowed to cross the Saco River. That’s the fallback boundary.”
“That’s bullshit!” Ed sputtered.
“That’s the reality of the situation and why we need to put a lot of thought into this. If I give up my status and we stay, we might not be able to flee north if the situation gets out of control here.”
“Then we need to get out of here as soon as possible,” Ed said. “Charlie?”
“We can always head up to Belgrade. It’ll be tight, but everyone’s welcome. That includes all of us,” said Charlie.
“We’d make it work,” affirmed Linda.
“You can’t go anywhere right now, Ed. How are you going to sit in a car for four hours?” said Samantha.
“We have time,” said Alex, “but we need to figure out how to do this logistically and start making preparations. We have two cars and seventeen people, four of whom can’t walk. I don’t anticipate any of you getting around on your own without crutches for at least a month. Linda will probably be longer.”
“If I can even use the foot again,” she said, sounding dismal for the first time Alex could remember.
“I’ll see what I can do about getting you to an orthopedic surgeon. Maybe one at Bridgton Hospital. They won’t be jammed with casualties like Sanford or the coastal hospitals. I remember them having an orthopedic group.”
“You should get on that as soon as possible,” said Kate.
“I will,” he said.
“I guess there isn’t a huge downside to working with the Marines, at least through the winter. If the situation stabilizes, you could part ways in the spring,” said Kate.
“If they’ll let me. Just saying. We need to plan for any contingency, including the sudden revocation of my ID card. I’m not one hundred percent sure what I’m dealing with.”
“What do you mean?” asked Charlie.
“Maybe this isn’t the best time,” Alex whispered.
“I thought you trusted them,” said Samantha.
“I do, but they follow orders, and I’ve seen a few things that make me wonder about Home
land’s plans for the battalion. I opened a large shipping container at the airport, which held enough uniforms to outfit the entire unit.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. I’m sure the Marines could use a change of clothes,” said Samantha.
“It doesn’t sound bad until you find out that the container had been secretly stored for years in a fenced-off warehouse complex near the airport and that the uniforms are a strange pattern, labeled ‘Federal Security.’ I saw that on the manifest.”
“Jesus,” said Tim. “That’s not a good sign.”
“Right. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. The second container held racks of weapons not found at the infantry battalion level. Rifles with integral suppressors. MP-7 submachine guns. Advanced night-vision optics.”
Ed asked, “What does that mean, in layman’s terms?”
“I don’t know, but these are the types of weapons you’d expect to find in a very slick, low-profile special operations unit. It means the battalion may be tasked to do more than Colonel Grady advertised, or knows about. If it turns into a secret police operation, we’re out of here.”
The room fell silent for several moments as the gravity of Alex’s statement settled.
“Either way, we have to prepare this place for winter,” said Tim.
“Right. We’ll have to work on both plans at the same time. If possible, I’d like to take a trip to your place up north, Charlie. Make sure it’s still a viable option. A lake house with solar panels might not remain unoccupied for long after an EMP attack.”
“Anyone thinking they’re getting a bargain with the solar panels will be in for a rude awakening. The whole system is probably fried.”
“That’s something we’ll have to consider. We can disassemble the system in the basement and bring any of the parts we’ll need, but I’m not sure about the solar panels. Were yours disconnected?”
Charlie shook his head.
“Then the panels are probably dead,” said Alex.
“What about borrowing one of the tactical vehicles for a run?” Ed suggested.
“It’s possible, but we’d probably have to do it now, before the battalion arrives. I can’t see commandeering one of their vehicles for a full-day side trip once they’re fully operational.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Kate. “Offloading gear from a military vehicle will draw way too much attention. Guaranteed to be pillaged at that point.”
Point of Crisis (The Perseid Collapse Post Apocalyptic Series) Page 9
