EMP Lodge Series (Book 1): Dark Retreat

by Grace Hamilton

  He instructed their friends, Chase and Albert, to stay at the back while he and Jack went around to the front. He slowly opened the solid wood door, being careful not to trigger the alarm he had set. A stick sharpened to a point was duct taped to the top of the door on the inside. A balloon was taped to the wall. When the door opened wide enough, it would cause the stick to pop the balloon. It was something he and Jack had done as kids all the time. Now, the silly prank served as their front door alarm. He didn’t know why he was being so cautious. The balloon must have deflated months ago and now laid flat against the wall.

  Using hand gestures, he motioned Jack to go upstairs while he searched below. He walked through the house, not making a sound. His Navy SEAL training kicked in and he carefully went about clearing what would be Albert and Chase’s room cringing slightly as he heard his brother shuffling around upstairs. When he walked into his own room, he was stunned by what he found.

  A woman and child were sleeping in his bed.

  Wyatt took a few seconds to evaluate the situation. The child was clearly not well. Her face was unnaturally pale and the area around her eyes was black. A woman was curled around the little girl in a protective gesture, even in sleep. He couldn’t see much of her features, but he judged her to be in her late twenties or so. He imagined she must be the girl’s mother; the resemblance was plain to see. They both had hair as black as night and the same dainty features.

  He heard loud footsteps behind him and spun around. Jack was approaching and he wasn’t exactly stealth.

  “Shhh,” he said turning to his brother.

  It was too late. The woman on the bed was awake. She looked mad, scared and fierce all at the same time. She stared at them with wide, brown eyes. Scratches and bits of dried blood marred what he expected was perfectly smooth skin on her face. Her black hair was a tangled mess with little bits of birch tree seeds and other foliage mixed in.

  Wyatt took in the rest of her appearance. She had clearly had a rough time of it judging by the rips in her cargo pants. Her overly large gray t-shirt was threadbare. Despite her roughshod appearance, she was stunning. Her shapely arms revealed she was muscular, but not overly so. The woman was not a wilting flower; he could see that by the look of defiance on her face.

  Wyatt held up his hands in a universal sign of surrender, “We aren’t going to hurt you,” he stated slowly and calmly.

  She stared at his brother who was still pointing the gun at her. One raised eyebrow was all she needed to do to question his statement.

  “Jack, put the gun away,” Wyatt said in frustration.

  Wyatt turned back to the weary woman watching them. “Look, we aren’t going to hurt you,” he paused, holstering his own weapon. “But, you are in our house, in our bed, so, well, you need to tell us who you are.”

  His natural instinct was to protect a woman, especially a woman who was clearly on her own. The fact she had a young, sick child with her sealed the deal. He wasn’t going to hurt her or kick them out. Call him chivalrous, but he wasn’t about to send a woman and child off to fend for themselves. Not in this new world. His dad would never do something so harsh and he wanted to be like the man who gave his life for his family.

  The woman opened her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut. It took about two seconds for Wyatt to figure out why.

  “Who is she?” came a harsh voice from behind Wyatt.

  Before he could answer Albert, there was another voice, much more serious. “Did you check her for weapons?”

  Wyatt sighed; they weren’t making the best first impression.

  “Chase, Albert, can we give the woman a chance to explain herself before we drag her in front of the firing squad.”

  Wyatt winced when he heard the sharp intake of breath from the woman he had just inadvertently threatened as she shifted her body to protect her child. His mother always lectured him about his heavy use of sarcasm. It was a character flaw. One that he only remembered he was supposed to be working on in times like these.

  He turned back to apologize. She had stood and was now stalking towards him, with no sign of fear.

  She stopped about six inches from him, pulled her perfect, petite shoulders back and ripped into him.

  “My name isn’t important. Clearly, you Neanderthals were never taught common courtesy or human decency. For you to actually threaten a woman and her obviously ill daughter is despicable.”

  Wyatt took an involuntary step back as she pressed forward. He stepped on Jack’s foot, who was also trying to get out of the way of the slight woman bearing down on them. He knew he needed to gain control of the situation and fast but the woman appeared to be breathing fire as she came at them.

  She didn’t give him the chance.

  “Don’t you worry about checking me for a weapon.” She pointed a finger at Chase, “Unlike you, I don’t need to wave a gun about to scare people. Does that make you feel more like a man? Does it make you feel powerful?”

  Wyatt knew there was a domino effect happening. Jack, Albert and Chase had all lined up behind him to get into the room. With every step the woman advanced, he was stepping backwards to avoid hurting her. If he didn’t stop his retreat, they were all going to fall on their butts.

  He started to speak again. He wasn’t going to let her cut him off.

  Squaring his shoulders and speaking with as much confidence as he could gather, “I’m sorry. I, we, aren’t going to hurt you.”

  Her nostrils flared and he realized he offended her again—somehow. “I mean, we aren’t like that. We,” he stammered. “I mean, am not like that. We aren’t,” he said in a pleading tone.

  So much for confidence, he chided himself. He had turned into a blubbering idiot that wasn’t making any sense.

  Her eyes became small slits and he could feel her looking him over. It was unnerving. It was exciting. It was completely brazen, but if he was being honest with himself, he loved it. It had been a few months since he experienced the excitement of meeting an attractive woman who showed any kind of interest in him. This interest may be a little on the negative side, but he could see she was passionate.

  Passionately hating him, but passion was passion. He grinned, which earned him a scowl from her.

  Once she was finished with a very thorough inspection, she looked him straight in the eyes, “We will leave. Tell your little army to back off.” She sneered at Jack, “Stand down, big boy. This big, bad lady means you no harm.”

  Wyatt wanted to laugh at the woman who was probably only a little over five feet tall. He actually had to bend his head down to look at her from his six foot one inches above. His little brother was just a couple inches shorter than he was. And Chase, well Chase had often been referred to as the Green Giant throughout high school after he had shot up their sophomore year and hadn’t stopped growing. Chase had several inches on him.

  He felt the guys stiffen behind him and looked over his shoulder to see his mother push her way past Chase and Albert glaring at the group of them.

  “Boys, go take care of that door,” grumbled a clearly irritated Rosie as she looked pointedly at their friends. “Wyatt, Jack, you know better,” she said stepping into the room. Wyatt flinched when he heard his mother’s tone. He was thirty-four, but it didn’t mean his momma didn’t scare him at times, especially when she used her no-nonsense tone.

  Rosie marched right over to the opposite side of the bed and sat down. She put her hand out to feel the little girl’s head. She wasn’t the least bit bothered by the woman who was staring her down.

  “My name is Rosie Morris. The first two Neanderthals,” she smiled when she said the word. “Those two are my boys. The grumpy old guy in the back is Albert and the one who wants to shoot everyone is Chase.”

  Wyatt watched his mom break down all the walls the woman had erected around her. She seemed to soften right before his very eyes.

  “I’m Megan Wolford,” she said in a much calmer voice than she spoke to him with. He was only a little offend
ed.

  “Ryland and Willow are waiting outside. I imagine Ryland will be thrilled to have another kid to hang out with.” While Rosie talked, she had pulled the blanket from the little girl and was looking her over. Jack took that as his cue to leave and quickly went to find his wife and son.

  Wyatt decided it was best to leave his mom alone to do what she did best—mother, nurture and heal. He turned and used his head to silently gesture to the rest of his group to leave. They did so and he gently closed the door behind him.

  4

  Megan studied the woman carefully examining her daughter. Her natural instinct told her the woman was safe, but the overprotective mother in her wanted the woman to get away from her little girl.

  Rosie looked up at Megan as she carefully tucked the blanket back around Caitlin.

  “What’s her name?” Rosie asked softly.

  “Caitlin.” Her manners were deeply ingrained and despite what the last three months had been like, she couldn’t help but apologize for her rude behavior. “I’m sorry about earlier. Your sons had guns on me. It startled me.”

  Rosie smiled, “Sweetie, I probably would have tossed the lamp at them myself. Don’t you worry about it. How long has Caitlin been sick?”

  Megan took a deep breath, “She only started acting sick about two days ago. She was fine until then.”

  Rosie nodded her head, “How old is she?”

  “Seven.”

  Megan found it hard to believe this gentle woman was the mother of the two very large men that had pushed their way into the room earlier. This woman’s compassion was obvious. Megan imagined she probably was the type of woman who volunteered at children’s hospitals and adopted all the neighborhood kids. She probably regularly baked them cookies and knitted them hats at Christmas.

  “Well, dear,” Rosie spoke, interrupting Megan’s reverie about days gone by. “Let’s go into the kitchen and you can tell me more about her symptoms. How does a cup of coffee sound?” She reached out and put a hand on Megan’s bent knee. “You are safe here. I promise. No one will hurt you.”

  Megan was hesitant, but what choice did she have? Options weren’t plentiful. She had heard of a hospital on the state line between Idaho and Washington, but there was no way she could carry Caitlin out the door let alone that far across the rough terrain. There was also the risk it was simply another rumor. Rumors had been rampant and with no way to communicate to verify the information, relying on those rumors was a serious gamble.

  “I would appreciate anything you can do to help her,” Megan told her appreciatively. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t.”

  Rosie stopped her. “Let’s go get that cup of coffee and we will go over all her symptoms from the beginning. I may have something on hand to treat her. It could be the flu, which means she will get better in a matter of days.”

  Megan instantly felt guilty. She already knew there was no medicine in the house. She looked down at the floor, trying to avert her eyes.

  Rosie had that mother’s instinct and smiled. “Not that kind of medicine. I’ve used herbs to treat the boys and myself for years.”

  Megan was instantly intrigued. She had of course heard of herbal remedies, but to be honest, in a world where modern medicine was five minutes or a phone call away, she had never taken the time to learn about it. Thank God, this woman did.

  Rosie walked to the door, holding it open, waiting for Megan to follow.

  Megan took a second to give Caitlin a kiss on the forehead. “Mommy will be right back, sweetie. I’m going to get you some medicine and we will get you all better soon.”

  She followed Rosie into the kitchen to find the men were in a heated discussion and it was obvious they were talking about her.

  “She isn’t going anywhere,” she heard Wyatt say. She assumed he was the leader of the merry band of misfits judging by the way the others seemed to listen to him.

  The old guy, Albert, she remembered, chimed in, “They all look sweet and innocent. You don’t know her. She could be here to scout out what we have. Best to send her on her way.”

  The younger brother stood there shaking his head, “I don’t know, Wyatt. We don’t have enough food for us let alone two more mouths to feed.”

  Rosie cleared her throat, “Jack, can you have Willow and Ryland come in here.” She paused and looked at each of the men, making eye contact. “Megan and Caitlin are our guests and you will treat them as such.” The look was one that left no room for argument. Megan herself had used a look like that on a number of occasions with her own daughter. Granted, her daughter was seven, these two appeared to be in their thirties. Under different circumstances, she probably would have laughed at how effectively Rosie brought them under her control. Evidently, even as adults, they still listened to mom.

  Chase was the first to look away. Wyatt slapped him on the back, “She always gets you with that look, man.” Wyatt laughed, but stopped the second Rosie put a hand on her hip.

  The older woman looked at the man standing next to Wyatt, “Chase Jackson, I have known you since you were five and I know you are a good man. Act like it,” she said firmly.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Chase glared at Wyatt before stalking out the broken back door.

  “Mom, are you sure about this?” Jack questioned.

  The answer was another stern look that told him she wasn’t going to argue. Jack turned and quietly headed for the stairs. Megan could hear voices coming from up there and hoped it was only his wife and child. She was already uncomfortable being so outnumbered.

  Albert spoke up, “You watch your back, Rosie.” He glared at Megan, “It don’t matter how young and pretty they are. You can’t trust anyone these days.”

  Megan had enough, “Look here, old man, I don’t trust you. Maybe you’re the one people should be worried about. You stay away from me and my daughter and we will stay out of your way. We stopped to rest and look for medicine. So you needn’t worry, we’ll be gone as soon as I can get her out of bed.”

  The tall, obscenely handsome Wyatt grinned, revealing a set of straight white teeth. His gleaming smile against his tanned face with a dark five o’clock shadow would have probably landed him on the cover of a magazine in the old days.

  He was gorgeous. Dark hair cut short with steely blue eyes. He must have some Irish in him, she mused. His mom had a full head of strawberry blonde hair, which meant he got his looks from his dad. The younger brother, Jack, favored his mother with light blonde hair, which was a stark contrast to his older brother.

  He had to be at least six feet tall and had clearly been in excellent physical shape before the collapse. He was hard all over. His shirt stretched over a broad chest and what could only be described as a washboard stomach. Oh, this guy was a lady killer she decided. Megan vowed right then to keep her distance.

  He stepped around the center island in the kitchen, “I’m Wyatt Morris. I am truly sorry for earlier. I’m sure you know what it’s like out there. You can’t be too careful.”

  Megan shook his extended hand, “Megan,” she said flatly. “It’s fine. I don’t particularly care to have guns pointed at me or my child if you could remind your buddies of that, we will get along just fine.”

  He laughed, “Got it. To be fair, you did break into our house. And you were sleeping in my bed.” He quickly added, “I don’t mind, but it was a little alarming. It isn’t like we get a lot of drop-by visitors up here.”

  She glared at him.

  “Wyatt that is enough. Use your manners, young man.” Rosie had opened a cupboard and grabbed the jars of what looked like dried weeds that Megan had found earlier. “Get some coffee made, would you please. Make extra, I think we could all use an extra cup this morning.”

  Megan watched as Wyatt walked out the door she had busted open last night. Before he did his mother’s bidding, he had given her one last look. It was a little unsettling. She hadn’t been looked at with what she could only call interest in a long time. She shook off the sensat
ion and turned her focus back to Rosie.

  In a lowered voice, Rosie asked Megan if she needed to take care of any calls of nature. Megan couldn’t help but blush. The luxury of indoor plumbing was a distant memory. She had become very adept at taking care of things outside. Around here, that could be very awkward with so many people roaming about.

  Rosie grabbed her hand, “Follow me.”

  Megan hesitated. She was long past the need to go to the bathroom in a herd. Those days were long behind her and she didn’t want to make it a habit again; especially with a complete stranger.

  Rosie smiled, “We have the next best thing to indoor plumbing.”

  They walked outside and about fifty feet away from the back corner of the cabin was a miniature version of the cabin, tall peak and all. In the center of the peak there was a half-moon cut from glass. The universal signal for an outhouse. The trees around the outhouse provided some privacy and seclusion.

  “Everything you need is out there. My husband built that when he was building the cabin. He said a man could sleep under the stars, but certain business needed to be taken care of under a roof,” Rosie said with a gentle laugh.

  Megan thought she detected a catch in her voice as Rosie talked but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why someone would be emotional about an outhouse even if it were a mini replica of their home.

  Rosie went on to explain that the outhouse was fine for spring and summer, but once the snow really started to fall, they would have to resort to a composting toilet in the house. Megan hadn’t even realized the toilet in the bathroom on the ground floor wasn’t an actual toilet.

  She listened as Rosie explained how they collected the sawdust and pine shavings when they cut the wood to build the cabin. They had also loaded up on sawdust that her husband had gotten free. When Megan involuntarily grimaced at the idea, Rosie quickly assured her it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was better. She never had to clean the toilet!